Meditation's page

You can see that people in dark robes are digging up mass graves and animating the dead. They don't seem to have noticed you. There are about two dozen individuals and several dozen skeletons freshly animated.
Feldgrau is located far from any other cities, it is a ghost town, literally and figuratively.

Moving along quietly you see in the distance individuals in black robes using magic. Their purpose is unclear at this distance.

"In your ignorance you believe you are prepared but soon you will see that your journeys have scant prepared you for joys of pain."

Long you suffer beneath the lash deep in the earth below the cathedral, hidden in chambers unfit for public display. There are times when your resolve weakens and you find yourself on the verge of despair. Yet in those very breaths, when mercy is the sole dream of your heart, brief but inexplicable images flash within your mind's eye. A city begrudgingly welcoming a nobleman and his army. Their resentment thinly veiled and altogether known to the man seated in silk, surrounded by swords. A nights rest filled with dreams of emancipation. But come the morrow, all that the village held dear was taken along with their very lives. Swords rise and fall with the monotonous rhythm of a butcher at his block. As the silk seat departs for battles abroad, mass graves remain and spirits unsatisfied cling to spaces once loved. Empires rise and fall. The wind blows through empty homes and lost opportunities long before the coming of those chased by death. Ever dealing it but seeking to never taste it. A gagged skull and the rattling of bone worn like cloth. A whisper, filled with satisfaction: Feldgrau.

Feldgrau, a ghost town found only on old maps. With this lone bit of information you spring off on a rested black steed. Riding for days you come to the edge of Feldgrau. It is night and the decrepit village is dark save for flashes of light, magical and unnatural.

The bishop sits in silence for a long time with an unblinking stare that seems to pierce your soul. Given your special training in infiltration, I believe that our next step should be for you to find a way within their organization.
We have methods created for divining the location of individuals in the shadows but there is a cost to bear to gain such knowledge. Only through pain can your answers be found. You must perform penance Roland. Are you ready?

Honestly having random people vote on this sounds a little unwieldy.
All the same, I'd love to play modules and I'm not particular about which ones are chosen. I think it would be cool if we put together a team as a group, instead of as a collection individuals. I'm a player in Adam's game currently. And then Cy is playing I assume.
I know this is a open forum so anyone can join but open recruitment can lead to groups with no sense of common purpose. I'd like to make a team together with interrelated back stories. Preferably no odd races since they lend themselves individualistic back stories.
Just an idea though. It's your game. You can look at my posts to determine my role play style.

It's a long trip back to Cryptgate. You get yourself a horse in Lepitstadt and ride continuously for several days, staying and inns and resting your horse as needed.

Returning to the Cryptgate, the massive Gothic cathedral in Kavapesta, you immediately seek an audience with your superior Bishop Bavhulameta Ulametria.

Stooped on her knees, she receives in you her simple domicile. Her ways absurdly humble and she does not look at you as you enter. Robed in all black, a bare bit of flesh is clear, from her daily shaven head to the nape of her neck. This area of flesh gives you a glimpse into the world of pain she regularly visits upon her body. The strongest of men would wince to behold such disfigured flesh, but you have seen this before so you merely lose your appetite.

Her voice is low and soothing as she says,"You have returned? Have you completed the task set before you?"

This is a game intended for a specific player. Lurkers are welcome.

So just for clarity's sake, are we making characters that are high school that find themselves in world of greyhawk? A kind of dual layer of roleplaying?
I'm super interested in this campaign as is a friend of mine. He grew up with Gary's work whereas I started d&d later in life but would love to see the golden age. We'd like to join as a team, maybe brothers like the twins in Dragonlance. We're still thinking about our characters though.

WINTER WARRIORS
I love Hassan's idea of being winter warriors coming out of retirement.
"Damn, we're getting too old for this sh..."
I've a got a character named Malack that I've run in many campaigns and many different game systems. He's fighter, an older mercenary that has drunken away most of his skills and has survived just about everything. A simple fighter with endurance and diehard.
I'd be keen on running whatever though.

1. Well ole Malack will most likely be puking over the side of the boat after a night of revelry. I suppose when he's feeling up to it he'd probably be up for just about any work. Given his unreliable tendencies regarding his work history I'd say on a pirate ship you could count on him most in a scrap. He's not going to swab the deck well, though he'd do it at blade point.
2. I think Malack needs at least one level of rogue to be a proper fit and probably as a pirate archetype.

Malack is a human for sure. I rarely play non-humans. I'm a total specist. Malack is of Taldan descent, no pure bloodline, and he hails from the river kingdoms. He doesn't remember much about his family or he doesn't care to remember. The odds are Malack is not his real name. Like the way Howard wrote Conan I feel like I'm more his chronicler than his creator. He sort of just appeared to me and I started including him in a game where I needed a pc on short notice. He's been in Savage Worlds, 4th ed., a home brew system and when I DM I use his name pretty liberally to ascribe the actions of someone too.
"Hmm those goblins were driven off by a man known as Malack. He was handy with a sword but after he was rewarded he drank himself into a stupor and slept with the mayor's daughter. He was run out of town shortly after. A strange one that Malack, the local priest says he's cursed in the eyes of the gods."

Malack is definitely a melee type. He's your typical frontline badass in terms of his numbers. What defines him as a character is his general lack of character. He's an opportunist and a survivor. As crass as they come. He's pretty much my polar opposite and that's what makes playing him a lot of fun. I haven't drank in over a decade but I find it marvelously fun to play a drunk gambling womanizer. That's what role playing is all about I guess.
I left the class choice a little open so that I can fill any gaps inthe party composition. I'd prefer that he be a fighter with maybe one level of rogue.

I'd like to submit Malack the accursed. He's a man of most certainly ignoble birth that has made his way across Golarion several times as a mercenary and all around low life. He may have once been a great warrior but his love of ale has robbed him of any experience he once had attained. He's quick with a ribald tale that more than often is a true story and one not to be told in the company of ladies. He fights dirty and above all else is a survivor. He's missing his left eye but he's not sure who or what took it anymore. Even though he will start the campaign as a drunk and loud mouth he's the type of low life that just lacks focus. While something holds his attention he's a more than capable warrior and all around thug. He hasn't been a pirate before, or doesn't recall being one, but a pirate's should suit him just fine. He is easily distracted by women.
In terms of the numbers, Malack could be a fighter/rogue, pure fighter, ranger, barbarian or barbarian/rogue. He'll almost certainly take endurance and diehard as feats. Let me know what you think.

I submit for your approval one Isaac Palos:

He had to leave Korvosa in a hurry. It was only a matter of time before the King of Spiders realized he was not a "she" and certainly not his favorite girl's hairdresser. Anyways Korvosa was becoming such a bore anyways, everywhere he went people were up in arms about something. "Hey Isaac, ain't seen you around for awhile, is that cause you haven't paid your tab!", "Hey Isaac, you knew she was my girl didn't you, you slimy..." , "Hey Isaac, you said I was your's and that you couldn't stand to be apart from me...", "You poked me in the eye, you, you bastard!" Well it was official Korvosa just wasn't fun anymore. Now Riddleport, that's a city a with style, and a certain odor, but supposedly you get used to it. At least in a city like Riddleport you could get yourself into all kinds of fun trouble.

In his own words, "I suppose I'm what some folk would call a "cad", a lousy card player and a womanizer (though an excellent one), but that really doesn't say it all. That doesn't catch the little boy wonder, the effortless charm, and the sound understanding of arts of a martial variety. Swords, axes, bows, spears... you name it, Isaac is your man. I'm the every-man, but every man can't be me." Wink.

Posted from a smart phone. I'll reformat my post later. Sorry

Malack the Accursed (A scene for your consideration):

"I understand you are looking for work?" the Sheriff says as he takes in the vagabond sitting on the floor before him. The sheriff has seen some sorry cases in his days but this one takes the cake. The vagrant's hair is long and matted and reeks of wine. There's a muscular, natural athletic frame that hides beneath more than a few years of excessive drinking that has coalesced into a sizable gut. His finger nails look like they've been chewed by different mouths and the patch over his left eye looks old and nearly worn through in the center. Skin is stretched over him like too little leather binding a book and its scratched and marred with a kind of artistic regularity. Still when this bum opens his mouth and reveals a handful of clean white teeth the Sheriff can't help but find him somewhat affable.
With a few white teeth gleaming in the morning sun, the bum let's loose a charismatic belch before says, "I'm a fighter, yes sir-ee. No frills, no fancy pants titles, just a fighter through and through. Came to get my name carved at the Hagfish. Turns out my finances are a bit out of order at the moment. The name's Malack. My friends call me, well... Malack. Can't seem to recall any friends at the moment. There was that bearded lady back in Korvosa though..."
The Sheriff barely listening interrupts Malack, "Let's not get a head of ourselves here. Where exactly are you from? You're no spring chicken and judging by that accent you don't hale from these parts."
Malack thoughtfully digs through his nose with a sharp finger nail and says, "Well I had a mother and father and all that business. I seem to recall being a soldier for a fancy pants or two... or ten. Somewhere in Belkzen, River Kingdoms, Numeria? Yeah Numeria seems like the place I got started. They say I diehard! More than a few jealous folks have tried to run me through, but I've forgotten more about surviving than most ever learn. Hahaha. What was I laughing about? Anyways let me get less drunk and I'll be a guard fer ya."
The sheriff nods and says, "A wonderful proposition, and I'm sure you're more than formidable but I'll thank you to just enjoy the festival and be on your way Mr. Malack."

Waydon Cordus, Human, Cavalier: Honor Guard, Strategist, Order of the Shield
Neutral Good: A former guardsmen who prefers a clear interpretation of the law so longs as it doesn't come down to hard on the weak. He'd look the other way if a hungry child stole some food and he might chastise a local for a crime instead of putting them through the courts.

Str 17, Dex 13, Con 12, Int 10, Wis 8, Cha 14
Base Atk +1; CMB +4; CMD 15
Feats Exotic Weapon Proficiency: Sword, Bastard, Power Attack -1/+2, Shake It Off, Shield Focus
Traits Armor Expert, Missing Child (Son or Daughter)
Skills Acrobatics -4, Climb -2, Diplomacy +6, Escape Artist -4, Fly -4, Heal +3, Intimidate +6, Knowledge
(Local) +4, Profession (Soldier) +3, Ride -4, Sense Motive +3, Stealth -4, Swim -2 Modifiers +5 Ride
while riding your bonded mount., Shield's Skills
Languages Common
SQ Animal Companion Link (Ex), Earplugs, Sworn Defense (Ex), Tactician (Shake It Off) 3 rds (1/day)
(Ex), Weapon Cord
Combat Gear Javelin (3), Scale Mail, Shield, Heavy Wooden, Sword, Bastard; Other Gear Backpack (4
@ 11 lbs), Earplugs, Grappling hook, Manacles, Rope, silk (50 ft.), Weapon Cord

He's looking for his missing son.

-Answers to the following questions:
1. What does your character look like?
Tall, well-built with short curly golden hair.
2. What is your character's personality like?
Very honest and likable. He's a mediator and a problem solver. A bit of a boy scout.
3. How bitter is your character toward Lamm?
He suspects Lamm may have his boy, but since he can't confirm that he simply sees him as typical criminal scum. If he could confirm that Lamm has his child he would almost certainly desire the death of Lamm.
4. How would your character react to having Lamm tied up in front of them this instant.
It really depends on the fate of his child. He would not be interested in slowing things down in the courts. That being said, Waydon is not a torturer. He would kill Lamm.
5. How does your character feel about Korvosa as a whole?
Korvosa is his city of birth and a city he once swore to protect. All of the people he has ever known reside within Korvosa.
6. How does your character feel about the King? The Queen?
Waydon is an Arabasti man all the way. He appreciates the good works he's done for the common man. The queen is another creature altogether. The word on the street isn't very favorable for the queen and although Waydon isn't very interested in gossip, he certainly doesn't have any particular fondness for the queen.
7. Does your character have any strange quirks?
He likes milk. He really thinks it does a body good.

"Waydon Cordus, a good man if you ask me. There he goes now, still looking for that little boy of his. Its a real shame what happened to them folks. Oh you never heard of him? Well let me tell you what I heard and also what I saw.
You know me, I've been on these docks my whole life. I remember when I first saw Lucius carrying his little boy Waydon on the docks. The named him after Waydon Endrin of course. That Cordus family has got the looks I tell ya. They're old blood, noble and all that, but somewhere way back someone backed the wrong horse if you catch my drift. Got no money now and no real claim to anything. Still that didn't stop Waydon's father Lucius from being a good man, an upstanding Korvosan Guard, the kind you trust to interrupt the law the way the common man sees it. Well with a father like that you can imagine the man that Waydon grew into. Just like his father he went on to be a guardsman too, and with his smooth voice and his clean looks he netted himself a right pretty wife he did. Unfortunately that's where the story turns sour. Like so many stories round here do. His pretty wife was out with their child Titus. That boy weren't much more than 7 years old then. Well she was haggling for some apples with her child behind her and like something straight from a nightmare her little boy wasn't there when she turned around. She looked everywhere, got Waydon to help and between them and some old guard buddies they couldn't find so much as a trace of their little boy. His wife went crazy with grief, hung herself. Waydon resigned from the Korvosan Guard. And there he goes now, still looking."

Off in the distance a tall man in dented scale mail leads a horse down the street. His hair is short cropped but its golden shine and subtle curls still show. He has an honest face save for sad look in his eyes. His jaw twitches ever so slightly as he approaches a local washerwoman. In clear, well enunciated Common he says, "Heard anything about my boy lately?" The washerwoman keeps her eyes low and nods her head side to side.
Moving on Waydon adjusts the bastard sword in his scabbard and moves the wooden shield on his back into a more favorable position.

Thanks for the great stuff Mortagon, sorry for impatiently sending you an email before reading your later post.