Globlob, quickly stowing the wand in his belt, puts a foot up on the nearest bit of debris to strike a pose! After all, how else will the lizard things know who to really be terrified of as he shouts out a song?
Goblin:
"Big old grumpy scaly mens,
We no care if two or ten!
You think you own broken place?
We gonna come break your FACE!"
Globlob gives a similar but far more high pitched shriek of dismay as the table comes to life. Anyone looking at him can clearly see that this is going to result in some serious paranoia somewhere down the line. Regardless, he wrangles his wavering voice into the best damn song he can manage, given the circumstances.
Goblin:
"Table scary monster goo!
What next; all chairs, too?!
Smash all table legs to bits,
bite and slash, make it take hits!"
I am truly sorry about the horrendous quality of these songs. It just seemed very Goblin to actually be singing something ridiculous.
Afterwards, he snatches up an arrow from his quiver and gets ready to shoot.
A wide variety of shouted insults, oaths, and slurs echoed through the air like a litany of derisive rebukes. The clash of steel on steel was shockingly drowned out by the eerily echoing goblin cacophony. Somehow, the part of the battle that dominated the attention of those locked in brutal combat was not actually the fighting. Exceedingly capable warchanters were hard to come by, but this encampment had more than its fair share.
From within his cage with all his fellow goblin whelps, he stared out at the distant fighting through a small, barred window. While his brothers were busy staring at their elders clinging to longshank arms with their teeth or slashing out at horses with their hollow blades, he had eyes only for the warchanters. Their songs were the things of legend, their lyrics flawless, and their insults unparalleled. Those sick burns could - and sometimes quite literally did - scorch the opponents meant to hear them.
Poor, tiny Globlob was in love and he even found himself mumbling along with some of the better slurs slung to commit them to memory. All the better to use against his peers later on when they attempt to pick fights with one another. And while he may not have won many of the fights he found himself in back then, his dreams find him dining on seared goblin whelp regularly.
Globlob lets out a yelp at just about the same time as everyone else, out of a combination of shock, fear, and generally wanting to be included.
"Ack! Ghosty voice! Longshanks, make burny burny at it!" He demands as he lunges forward to grab at the hem of Palo's robes, tugging on them insistently. Not that he clarifies what he wants her to "make burny burny" at in the first place.
"Because you need be with things like you!" Globlob retorts to Rav with a wide grin before drawing in a deep breath. As usual, his lyrical genius is needed to carry his allies through a tough time.
Goblin:
"Oozy, goopy, gloppy corpse!
It smell worse than any horse!
Shoot it, cut it, burn it good,
Turn back to dead like it should...be."
With a slight frown at how his typically flawless lines get a bit fumbled at the end, he shakes his head and snatches an arrow from his quiver. Better to shoot now and think later, of course!
"Oof!" Globlob grunts as he is abruptly dropped onto his face. He flounders at the water for a moment before managing to right himself and spit out a stream of the vile soup. Treading water, he grumbles profanities under his breath before belting out a quick ditty for mood music.
Goblin:
"Runnin' out of things to sing;
Dat some gross and slimy thing!
Take his arms and icky hands,
Grind them down to piece of sand!"
Globlob grunts in agreement with Rav's assessment and makes to scurry back toward the door, when Biggun suddenly starts muttering about loot. With wide eyes, he whirls back around and is about to yell back to their abnormally large friend, but is too slow. A fairly justified shriek at the sudden appearance of the...thing slips from him.
Knowledge:1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18
"Yeek! Shredskin! Is dead, is dead!" The overwhelming urge to scream and run around in circles nearly overpowers the warchanter, but he remembers his "training." Instead, he settles for taking a deep enough breath that his tummy bulges outward and belting out a song.
Goblin:
"Big and eerie, floaty ghosty!
Get some fire, make it roasty!
Don't let it make meal out of friend,
Turn it into mush again!"
3 rounds of +1 to attack and damage for all. He also draws his bow afterwards.
I'm alive. Just going through a very busy patch of life as I try to juggle a job, school, life in general, and an internship. Hopefully I'll get some more free time to scoot you guys along soon. Sorry for the abrupt disappearance.
Globlob lets out yet another yelp of surprise, the sudden appearance of all manner of amoebas doing very little for his nerves. Fortunately, a few choice words are always on his lips for moments like these. After he belts out a rousing tune, he snatches up his bow and gets ready to fire.
Goblin:
"Ugly, goopy, grimy, glop!
Longshanks, go and get a mop!
Goblins mush you down to size,
Shoot you, jab you, rip out eyes!"
You're basically right. Full HD (10) plus Con from first level, then half HD (5.5) rounded down (5) plus Con. It's not until level 3 and every odd level after that, that you get the extra 1 HP from the .5s adding up. That make sense? And what's everyone else doing?
Chester, seeing that everyone else has made a tactical retreat, moves with his doppleganger to join the others inside the ruined building. As he passes Morty and Rick, both Chesters give the undead an appraising look before offering Jacob an approving nod. "You know, my grumpy and oft monosyllabic friend, I quite like your style." Once inside safely, he turns to try to fire at the nearest wolf.
I live! Mostly. Holidays, vacations, family time, and moving all rolled into one makes for a stressful, busy time. Will be getting you all a post up here shortly.
Globlob grumbles and sticks his tongue out at Biggun before he stomps back over toward the ladder to follow the others. Namely, Relas because he is all sorts of stealthy while the others are really not. And it tends to mean that nobody will try to stop him and take his shinies.
Aravashnial frowns back to Abrielle - or rather, where he thinks she is as his blind gaze is a few feet off the mark - when she declines to bring the bodies. He does not protest, but the displeased curl to his lips makes his feelings on the subject quite obvious. Anevia nods in agreement though, as does Horgus for a moment until he belatedly catches the "for once" portion of the aasimar's statement. With an idle, annoyed roll of his eyes, he moves to settle himself down against the opposite wall of the cavern as the rest of the group gets to looting. As far as he can get from the bizarre spore creature and the dead bodies, it seems. The other human and elf do much the same, if only to stay out of the way.
Lann and company look a bit reluctant to stay for much longer, but apparently their debt to you is stronger than their impatience. They wait for the time being and answer what questions they can as Naali shrugs into her new armor and Gwyn doodles. "No offense taken, friend," Lann replies in response to Sadron with a weary smile, "I understood your meaning. The Templars have simply taken up temporary residence within one of the other villages of a tribe of our people, though. And fear not, those of our kin that they reside with are just as vile as you imply, I assure you."
For her part, Gwyn plays the role of the sketch-artist fairly well, considering. Both depictions scarcely need the notes on the back side of the page to tell who they are meant to represent; for someone that would know the faces, at least. Anyone who looks on can easily see the resemblance. All that finished, you set off through the darkened halls of subterranean Kenabras again with the mongrelmen guides in the lead.
The tunnel winds north for upwards of fifteen more minutes before reaching a circular cavern that is twenty feet wide from wall to wall. Four mongrelmen of various bizarre appearances, none of which seem to be quite the same as the last, stand guard before a large stone door. They hail Lann and his companions warmly and turn suspicious looks on the rest of you, but your host's word is good enough for them. For now, in any case. They open the door for you and usher you in, but their curious stares never quite leave you all. It may feel a bit odd for some of you to be on the receiving end of such looks, given the appearance of those giving them.
Within the door, a small dark lake ripples in the center of a two hundred foot wide cavern. The walls and ceiling glow merrily with thick sheets of the same luminescent fungi you saw before near the basidirond, lighting the entire cavern well enough for all to see well enough, for the time being. In the center of the underground lake, over two dozen low stone buildings cluster on a rocky, hundred foot wide island. Lights glow within nearly every window of the buildings, giving the settlement an almost welcoming look. Rafts made of mismatched planks of timber bob along the length of a crooked pier at the lake's closest shore. Shadows of all shapes and sizes flicker to and fro through the cozy little village; likely the denizens going about their daily routines.
"Welcome to Neathholm, friends," Lann says theatrically, a relieved quality in his voice when he sees his home in one piece. You hear the heavy stone gate grind close behind you and realize a bit late that this is where you will be staying for the next short while, whether you like it or not. Regardless of whether or not you mention this to any of your fellows, he sets to guiding you through the village with the ease of long practice. Here and there, he says hello to someone or waves to another person, each as fantastical or grotesque as the last. When he finally stops his tour through the small town, you have arrived at the largest building atop the island's low, central peak.
"This is the home of Chief Sull, our leader. I will need to inform him of what has transpired, but would certainly appreciate if you could lend your words to my account. I imagine you experienced much that we could not have." And with that, he steps into the relatively large building of all manner of stone and half-rotten planks of wood.
Holy hell, this post got a bit long. You guys don't have to follow him in if you want to, but I figured I'd pause here to let you RP whatever you like. If you're not feeling it, go ahead and just say you want to head in to meet the Chief! If I get at least two people wanting to move forward, I'll shuffle you all along.
Just realized I totally forgot to make my Fort save. Sorry about that! I imagine Landon would've taken off his leathers when it started getting good and toasty.
Landon nods in agreement with getting something to eat as his stomach grumbles right on cue. As fun as venturing out into the deep, dark forest in search of something to much on sounds though, he shakes his head. "I'll stay behind. See if I can't get a fire started or something. Maybe gather together some wood so we can get going quick tomorrow. Luck, you two."
He watches the larger viking and the smaller grippli wander off into the jungle together, shaking his head gently. What an odd pair they make. Heck, what an odd group all of them make, really. Those thoughts drift through his mind as he slinks off into the underbrush to collect some wood that is good for burning and for repairing boats.
Chester offers a nod of clear understanding at the temperament of his friends, excusing himself to make himself a drink at the dry bar. That done, he heads off to his room for the evening to offer the appropriate prayers to his deity before bed.
I am ready to keep moving. Also, I love that Jacob has skeletons named Rick and Morty.
While I don't have an alias up for this guy yet as I'm still struggling to figure out exactly what class I want to be (paladin? antipaladin? kineticist? too many choices!), here's what I have so far.
Joshua Martens is a fairly typical early 30-something college graduate who got a job working in a large technology firm. What he had expected to be a great job innovating and contributing to the future shaping the world, turned out to be the exact opposite. Boring, mundane, abysmally tiresome data entry for hours upon end straight up to the brink of madness. He now understands how and why people could be driven to bringing an assault rifle into the office to put everyone out of their misery. Not that he has plans to do any such thing, but he can certainly understand the logic. He spends his free time out at bars with friends and the occasional coworker, at the gym (rarely), and playing sports video games. Though he had certainly heard of Dungeons and Dragons, he has absolutely zero experience with tabletop games.
The Games Begin!:
Waking up in a pitch dark room with a hangover the size of Texas is typically a blessing, but the stark lack of a glass of water is unhelpful. Bleary eyes blink away sleep and peer about into the darkness when the words Choose a Class appear in blindingly bold letters. Joshua winces away from the light and squeezes his eyes tightly closed until his headache reaches a manageable level again. Or at least, a level that does not feel like it is going to crack his skull open and wander away.
A class, he manages to dredge up through the haze of alcohol-fueled dehydration. What am I, in college again? Grumpy musings aside, he cycles through his options without considering exactly how he is doing so and makes some quick choices. Anything to get the blasted light out of his face.
Imagine his surprise when the entire world turns into the surface of the sun upon finishing with the prompts. At least when he wakes up in a completely different world, his headache is not nearly as bad as it had been?
"We're not going to kill you, you moron," Landon shoots back as he lowers his weapons, tucking them back into his belt carefully. He eyes the men warily before gesturing back toward the door. "You just hired guys or do you work with whats-his-face regularly? Any idea where he parks his butt or who he reports to? Specifically, I mean. Not just 'the Consortium,' because that's a given."
He sticks around to hear what the pair have to say. Only once they have either given him something marginally helpful or absolutely nothing at all, does he turn to the rest of his new "friends." He gives them a careful once-over each, before turning his gaze to Bandrift. "Landon. I don't have a boat, but we can get one. I might know a guy who can help us around here. Right now, we need to move."
Knowledge(local):1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14To see if he knows somebody that can help.
If that is true then it carries the worse thing for a GM to do; Favoritism.
@oyzar
if you read the various Golarion books you'd find the Worldwound has a LOT of aasimars and tieflings, So limiting to one who happens to be the GM's girlfriend does not make it right, even if it matches thematically.
Sorry if you're not thrilled about my choices? Not really sure what to say to this. Nobody forced you to apply. If you don't like the way I'm running recruitment, why're you here at all?
I did want to avoid the entire group being part-angel in a campaign of demons and angels, because that would just be silly. That said, if you wanted to express concern about my choices, being sassy to the GM in his recruitment thread is really not the best way to get picked. Or even the best way to politely convey that. Just a bit of food for thought.
Well, I did say that it would be open for a week. Which puts the deadline at about 5pm EST tomorrow, Friday the 2nd. Everyone has a little less than 24 hours to get their characters done, at which point recruitment will be closed. I plan to reveal who I'm choosing later that evening and get rolling over the weekend.
This may throw off the way that some of you are building your characters at the moment, and for that I apologize. That said, it should make some lives significantly easier for the feat-starved classes. So hopefully nobody will hate me for it. I've put a lot of thought into it, and I really prefer this style of play. Maybe you all will, too.
We will be using the feat fixes in this campaign that can be found here.
I'd prefer all of the stuff be in the alias, but as long as you have the link to the mythweavers sheet in the alias and the background stuff there, that should be fine. I know making stat blocks can be a headache sometimes.
Henceforth, I'd actually really prefer it if everyone shortened their backstories down to the aforementioned length of two paragraphs. You can keep the longer ones, of course, but give me a synopsis of what it entails. One of the hallmarks of being a good writer is the ability to write shorter as well as longer entries.
Gwyneth Koschei wrote:
Hope that solves that.
It does! Thanks for clearing that up for me. Looks great, otherwise. Thanks for the well wishes.
Ileona the Chosen wrote:
I admit though I am not a veteran online game player but I am quick learner
That is just fine! Not so long ago, I too was a novice to the ways of tabletop gaming. As long as you put forth the effort, I'm pretty content.
Velkaria wrote:
can I take the squire feat?
Under other circumstances, such as if you were playing a character that was better suited to diplomatic actions or something aside from combat, I might say yes. But as you're a paladin and they have (justified) reputations for being extremely powerful, I'm gonna have to veto the idea. Which is not to say you can't have a non-combat little buddy you pick up along the way to be your squire for RP purposes. That, I would gladly accept.
"Heed these rules, you lot. Don't eat anything you didn't bring in with you. Don't drink any water you haven't boiled. Don't touch anything that's growing. Hell, don't touch anything that's dead, either! You know what I touch here in the Worldwound? Only things that came in with me and haven't left my sight, that's what. That's why I'm still alive after five years on the line, and that's why half of you will be dead by the end of one. If you don't want to be included in the dead half, follow orders, watch your fellows, and keep your eyes sharp. And don't. Touch. Anything."
-Cedric Mercadian, Crusader of the Order of the Rising Sun
The light shines brightest in the dark...
For more than a hundred years the demon-infested Worldwound has warred against humanity, its Abyssal armies clashing with crusaders and heroes along the border of lost Sarkoris. But when one of the magical wardstones that helps hedge the demons into their savage realm is sabotaged, the crusader city of Kenabres is attacked and devastated by the demonic hordes.
The Wrath of the Righteous Adventure Path begins with the launch of the Fifth Mendevian Crusade soon after a devastating attack on the Worldwound border by the demon armies. From this explosive beginning, a new group of heroes rises—heroes who are destined for legendary achievements.
Pit yourself against the forces of evil and chaos.
We are currently looking for a few good players to join us for a play through of the Wrath of the Righteous AP. Applicants should have a solid grasp of Pathfinder mechanics as well as exceptional writing talent as roleplay will be the focus here. Party composition will be considered to some extent, although it is not top priority. Be prepared to be in this for the long haul; I'm running the campaign for my girlfriend so I have no way out!
Character Creation Guidelines:
Ability Scores 25 point buy. Epic stats for an epic game.
Races Most races under 19RP are acceptable with the notable exception of androids and aasimar.
Classes Any class with the exception of Antipaladin. All rogues, summoners, and barbarians should be using their unchained variants, however monks can choose either.
Mythic Paths Please indicate your preferred Mythic Path.
Alignments No evil characters for obvious reasons.
HP Full HP at first level, half and a half every level after. For example, a class with a d8 would gain 4.5 HP each level.
Skills No background skills. Sorry.
Traits Two traits, one which must be from the WotR Player's Guide. The one from the players guide must accurately reflect your chosen Mythic path.
Starting Gold Average starting gold for your class.
Guns and Tech There are no real allowances for it in the campaign, and I won't be adding any. Even if there are gunslingers. Yes, you'll be stuck making your own guns.
3PP Third party materials will be looked at on a case by cases basis. Your entire character should not be made of third party things. No psionics or godlings. Anything you use for your character that is third party should be clearly marked and sourced with a link somewhere on your character sheet.
Background Please include a short background that doesn't exceed much more than two paragraphs. The background should include your reasons for being in Kenabres and preferably tie into your campaign trait. As a side note, please do not send a wall of text; break your paragraphs up!
Player Expectations:
Posting Frequency Once per day, but try to keep up with the flow of the game if it picks up pace.
Spelling and Grammar Please edit your posts for these two things. Nothing is worse than trying to figure out exactly what someone was trying to say on context alone.
Roleplay Roleplay out your actions. If you aren't looking, you aren't perceiving no matter how good your roll is.
Rolls I'll be rolling certain things behind a GM screen, or things like saves just to expedite things along.
Rulings Any rulings I make that may seem questionable to you should be brought to me quietly rather than making a big stink about it. PMs are a good way to do that.
Don't be a Dick Just don't.
Recruitment will be open for approximately one week though may close sooner (or later I suppose) when i find the right people.
Get your apps in sooner rather than later! If you're worried about time, prioritize your backstory along with picking a race and class. Math and numbers can be worked out later if need be, but it is preferred to have that as done as possible as well.
Chester, by comparison, is up with the dawn and enjoying a fairly lackluster breakfast. So much for the boons of beauty sleep; clearly his good looks all come from either good breeding or divine blessings. Either way, he sends his valet out first thing in the morning to fetch a bit more onyx for his master's "collection" before heading on over to the docks. Sliding out of his carriage fluidly, the barrister smooths out the wrinkles that had been beginning to form on his jacket. He flashes a bright smile at the assembled individuals as his valet waits aboard the carriage. "Hello again, my friends. Lovely morning, isn't it? Who are we missing, exactly? I must say that I am rather eager to get moving."
At the mention of contracting someone to take them to their destination by boat, Chester raises his eyebrows and looks in the offered direction. "Oh? Well, perhaps I can persuade him to provide us with an opportunity to exercise frugality. Or have you already tried?"
1. Current head of House Banderfeld, far removed as it is presently from it's home province.
2. Barrister of some minor renown known for unholding the law of the land to an almost ruthless level.
3. Unwed at present, to the dismay of his mother and delight of many an elegible bachelorette, of noble blood or otherwise.
4. Traveled for many years after his graduation from university, having only returned within the last few years.
Rumor:
1. Takes bribes from anyone willing to pay them to change the verdict of his trials in their favor. Some even say he takes bribes from both sides of the trial.
2. Unwed because he uses his bachelor status to hide the fact that he is not in search of a wife, but a husband. Others argue that he carries on an affair with another local noble's wife and is awaiting the opportune moment to see the cuckold husband done away with.
3. Rumors abound about the events that befell the noble barrister during his travels. The most prominent include a great deal of debauchery, forays into the slave trade, and trade agreements with merchants and warlords alike. Some whisper of darker inclinations that struck him during his travels, involving vile rituals concerning the dead and unspeakable deities.
4. Some believe that his return to his family's rightful home heralds a reckoning for those who caused the death of his father. Others think he simply wishes to have a voice in the government again, if only a minor one.
No Knowledge nobility, so I guess Chester would rather get to know everyone far more personally.
A soft, bemused chuckle drifts up from Chester's lips as he listens to the introductions of the others. Grand goals all around, from the looks of things, though it all comes down to whether they are speaking the truth. As Kiara finished her speech, he clears his throat quietly and offers what he hopes to be a disarming smile around the table.
"Chester Marcel Banderfeld, and how lovely it is to meet all of you. Unsurprisingly, I've come to restore my family name to the rightful place within the region. Though, I've half a mind to turn the locale into a place worth speaking highly of, while I'm here. Either way, my inclinations seem to pale before those of all of you."
The door to the tavern opens with the creak of aged hinges to reveal a particularly elegantly dressed man with a far less elegant, though just as attractive, woman on his arm who both promptly step inside. The pair are followed closely by a similarly attired valet wearing a mask of Tragedy, to match his master's mask of Comedy that dangles carelessly off the fingers of one hand. The man in question withdraws his arm from the grip of his companion and murmurs quietly to her with a smile, before delivering a sound swat to her rear as she wanders away.
Looking very much as though he could - and already had - bought this establishment, he seats himself at the large table in the center of the room. It only seemed natural to find himself surrounded by those a step above the local rabble, at least in terms of appearances. His valet naturally moves to seat himself at an empty table near enough that he could be at his master's elbow at an instant, if necessary. "I do so hate to interrupt, but as I am but the second to arrive, I imagine we've yet to start? A shame. I try to make a point to be fashionably late."
Ask Chester nicely and he could bring Brogol back. Just...not as he was. Or even remotely close. >:D Get better soon, Bel! Charlie-horses are rough, so I know that feel.
This sounds awesome. I'm in full support and you guys have my vote for doing that, if it matters at all. But then, at the end of the day it's up to the GM.
Thank you! Good luck to you and everybody else as well. There are some really great characters in here. I don't envy having to pick from the lot of them.
Hi there! I'd like to toss my hat into the ring, or rather toss Grun's hat in. His stat block and whatnot is (read: should) be all set up on the profile page, so feel free to take a peek. I've never actually played a fighter, much less one with the potential to wield weapons bigger than himself, so I'm pretty excited. Sadly, I'm fairly new to PbP Pathfinder stuff so there's no real posting habits or post quality for you to look into. Which I realize makes considering me for the campaign a bit of a leap of faith, but hopefully the quality of this post will give you a peek into what to expect? That's my plan, at least. As for my schedule, checking the thread (at least) once a day should be well within my capabilities. I love forum roleplay, so more than once a day is probably much more likely. That said, let's get on to the good stuff!
Grun: Past:
Grun, contrary to what might be expected of a full-blooded orc, was not always the first to wade into the bloody melee. No, he was far more commonly found among those who ventured forth from orcish strongholds to blaze a new trail! Or at least, scout out where to raid or trade with next. Due to his stubborn demeanor and lack of light blindness due to regular staring contests with the sun that he was determined to win, he made for a halfway decent scout. He always had a deep and unbridled love for travel and new experiences, second only to his fondness for an orc woman from his tribe by the name of Krullgiss. He saw what they had as the closest thing to true love that an orc can have, complete with all sorts of affectionate bruises and grisly gifts that had once been living creatures. Together, they enjoyed hunting, trapping, and trading with the local humans of Trunau to their green hearts' content.
Regretfully, all of this was called to a very abrupt halt when the orcs began allying with the giants. Grun had no particular problem with the giants; sure, they were big and ugly and mean and rude, but so was he most mornings. Granted, he was the product of an unwilling union of an orcish ancestor and one of the giants' kin, but his people did much the same to other races. He could hardly fault them for such a temperament, especially when it must be so very hard to make clothes that fit their enormous bellies. No, it was when a handful of orcs were given over to the giants as a show of good faith for whatever ends they wished that his opinion soured. One of the orcs in question was his beloved and, as a lowly member of the scouts, neither of them had a say in the matter. Many tears were shed as she was carted off to never be seen again, fostering within Grun a deep and furious hatred. He committed the face of the giant that took her away to memory so that he might one day exact his vengeance. Though he tried to change the minds of his fellow orcs about allying with the giants, his skills lay far outside the realm of social interaction. Even for an orc, Grun was far from attractive or even remotely charismatic. Efforts went less than swimmingly, needless to say.
Grun: Present:
Unsatisfied to simply swallow his pride and budding rage, Grun left his tribe and sought out the local town for residence. All the better to bide his time and find some competent friends to help him with his half-cocked plans. The town itself was not particularly keen on having an orc take up residence within; trading temporarily was one thing, but orcs as literal neighbors was another entirely! There goes the neighborhood. Initially turned down when he attempted to simply enter the town and join their citizenry, Grun was not to be deterred. He built himself a shack out by the Barterstones and set about offering his "services" to anyone that needed an extra hand or a strong back. Fortunately for the man himself, one of the local villagers he helped was willing to take a chance on a strong, hardworking newcomer and convinced one of the Councilors to let him prove himself. While his wanderlust is rapidly growing to be too large of an itch to ignore, he has quelled the urge for the time being as he works tirelessly for the town anywhere he can in the hope of being accepted if not welcomed. He has since been in the town for about a month and does odd jobs that include anything from chopping wood to tending to farm animals to lifting heavy objects for old ladies.
As for the friends and enemies, I'm looking at his mate/girlfriend/wife as the close friend, the villager that vouched for him as the unknown friend. The known enemy would be the giant that took his sweetheart while the unknown enemy would be the orc that is/was acting as liaison with the giants and made that deal. If necessary, I can pick a pre-existing villager for that NPC or make one up. The same can be said of the orc and the giant, I just had not picked a name for them yet.
