By the time you site the Broken Tankard it is early evening. You crest a low hill to see the road leading down past it. A light drizzle has begun falling from a sky that has gradually got more leaden as the afternoon has worn on. The inn is surrounded by a high stone wall with an open wooden gate giving entry to its courtyard. Several lamps are lit which illuminate the general area around the building in the growing gloom. Far to the North, storm clouds are gathering and a brief flash of lightning illuminates a towering tor in the distance. What looks like a ruined structure could be glimpsed atop it.
It's not shown on the map. Apart from it being west of Zelkors Ferry, that is all that you know. Zelkors Ferry is situated on the small peninsula about 3 hexes west of the no.5, just below the Dragon Marsh Lowlands.
Indeed you did leave in the morning so yes, its around noon now. And I am going with the 6 miles per hex rule. You do know of an inn that is situated halfway toward Derindin. Called the Broken Tankard, it serves as a way station along the road and is often used as a stopping off point.
With a last glance at your surroundings, you spur your mounts and canter out the courtyard, setting a brisk pace as you head toward the Eastern gates of the city. The citizens are busy going about their daily business and pay little heed to you as you pass. The fact that you head toward a destination that litters the history books and has such a fell reputation seems to have passed them by.
And then you are through the gates and out into open countryside. The road heading east has several merchants on it, some heading toward the city whilst others head off to who knows what destination. The East road is situated on a rise in the land and so gives you an excellent view of your surroundings. The landscape is a verdant sea of green rolling hills, with several small outcroppings of woodland, too small to be classed as forests. The glittering reflection of the midday sun reflects off the still waters of scattered lakes that you can see across the landscape. It looks like it is going to a pleasant day.
After making sure that you are all adequately equipped as well as familiarising yourselves with your mounts, you gather in the small courtyard at the rear of the Church.
Barahil the priest is standing nearby, a solemn look on his face. "I will not go into a speech of departure, or even wish you luck. Luck can be a fickle thing and perhaps on this journey it is best not to tempt it. All I will say is that I hope that I do get to see you again on the successful completion of your quest. May the blessings of Muir and Thyr be with you."
For a moment, a shadow of what looks like doubt, seems to pass across Barahil's face, but then it is gone, replaced by a solemn look that signals the respect that the old priest has for you.
Two guards at the large wooden gate at the far side of the courtyard slowly open them, revealing the bustling lane beyond that leads East out of the city. The people of Bards Gate can be seen all going about their daily business, totally ignorant to the momentous journey that you are about to undertake.
The sky overhead is cloudless and a brilliant blue in colour. A slight breeze carries the smell of the city. A city that will soon be far behind you.
Is anyone else worried that the dm started us at max wealth and is now giving us stuff for free.
Xanther speaks very true words. Believe me when I say that I don't think I am being THAT generous. I have played in this campaign myself as well as DM'd it and believe me, It is deadlier than any out there. In fact, it makes Tomb of Horrors look like a kindergarden!!
"Alas, I cannot procure the weapons that you require. Those you will have to source from another. But your mention of undead perils makes me think that it would be remiss of me if I were indeed to let you depart without providing each of you with a vial of holy water. I will have these added to your supplies." The priest busys himself rummaging through a large chest, before bringing forth several rolled up parchments bound in ivory inlaid wooden scroll cases. " As to your request for scrolls. Would these suffice?" He lays them before you on the table.
Spoiler:
Silence: Negates sound in 20-ft. radius.
Augury: Learns whether an action will be good or bad.
Find Traps: Notice traps as a rogue does.
Aid: +1 on attack rolls and saves against fear, 1d8 temporary hp +1/level (max +10).
Consecrate: Fills area with positive energy, weakening undead.
Delay Poison: Stops poison from harming target for 1 hour/level.
"I am able to provide a pack mule for your journey. I will accept no coin for this beast. And I can supply two wands of cure light wounds. Again, as you will probably have need of these, they are to be considered a parting gift. If you will provide a complete list of the scrolls you require, i will make the necessary arrangements to get them prepared. Again, I will accept no coin. I feel you may have need of your money on the journey."
The priest smiles at Sinoth. "Of course you may procure your own equipment. Rather presumptuous of this old man to think that I could do the job for you"(he winks)
"Excellent! I will take it from your replies that you are all on board, so to speak. Good, good. I will make the necessary arrangements for any equipment or supplies that you may need be brought here. You are free to rest here before you depart as well. Any questions regarding your destination and aid I can give, please feel free to ask me"
Barahil moves over to a large iron bound wooden chest and unlocks it before opening it to reveal several backpacks
"These each contain 15 days’ worth of rations, a small tent and a warm winter blanket for those who need them. The church will supply a full waterskin, and a pouch with 250 gold coins in for each of you, to cover any additional expenses." Barahil also lifts the following items from the chest, explaining that "these may come in useful as well." - 50 feet of hempen rope, a box containing tinder and three tindertwigs, 9 labeled potions of cure light wounds, three torches, a grappling hook, and 2 small bottles of Heart of Aeuly brandy and Stone Heart Reserve Whisky.
"I estimate that the distance to the Coast Road is about 80 to 100 miles over quite easy going terrain; mostly rolling hills as I recall."
Barius says nothing and tries to stay unnoticed as he continues to eat like a pig. During his meal Barius will stuff food that travels well into his pockets and backpack. [dice=Sleight of Hand] 1d20+6
The name seems to recall a tale of an elven noble who was very rich but not terribly clever. From what you remember of the tale, a descendant of hers called Maybeth inherited the castle but she was said to have gone mad - something to do with swords and prince's.Your not aware of texts or items however.
"To be truthful we are not sure. It is more likely that several individuals have resided there over the years. There is a lot of brigand activity in the area- that I do know. As to undead, again, it's possible."
"Perhaps my jest at Bofeds expedition to Tsar was ...ill thought. I just have my doubts at to its chance of success. You however, I have every faith in. As to payment?... Ahh, what is in it for you, besides fame, wealth and renown? Quite possibly death if I am brutaly honest. But I can provide mounts for those without, a small supply of healing potions and a purse of 250 gold to each person who signs on board. What say you?... Oh and to sweeten the pot slightly, I also provide to you the deeds to Castle Calaelen and also the title of 'Lord of The Forest of Hope and its surrounds' that accompanies the deeds. All I can tell you of this is that the castle was built some time before the fall of Tsar and the Righteous March, by an elven noble named Orlinde Calaelen. One thing led to another and over the years the deed has fallen into the hands of the priesthood of Muir."
Barahil continues; "As Bofred mentioned in his sermon, many leagues to the South East lies the Forest of Hope, close to which lies the legendary dungeon of graves, Rappan Athuk. Many years ago, a paldin of our order, Lord Navarre, led an expedition there. Alas, he never returned from that dread place. Not only did our order loose a just and honourable man, we also lost his armour and sword, relics that had been passed down over the ages since before the church of Muir was established here, in Bard's Gate... I wish to sponsor, on behalf of both the church of Muir and Thyr, an expedition to reclaim these relics."
Barahil clasps his hands together. "Excellent, excellent. I am sure you will all come to know each other a lot better in the days to come. Now, as we are all a little more refreshed and, I hope, relaxed, I will divulge my reasons for asking you here."
I've always liked the monk class but I think that's down to the fact that when I first started playing AD&D, my friend was playing a monk called Ralmath. We had some great adventures. Ralmath had character and was a little like a used car salesman. He also had a staff that allowed him to change into an aurumvorax. Ahhh, those were the days.
Mythandyr: A young woman in the garb of a junior priest beckons Mythandyr. "Please, if you wish to follow me, I will direct you to a room where you may refresh." She indicates a small door out of the room on the opposite side to the door you came in from.
Barahil raises his hands and rises from behind his desk. "Patience my friends. I will answer all your questions. But please, would you partake in some refreshments." He indicates a side table with several bottles and jugs on it. "There is water for those who do not wish to partake but I can recommend the Evernight Ale - it's brewed by an obscure clan of dwarves you know. It has never been exposed to light until it is tapped. It's surprisingly rich and flavorful too." Barahil moves to sit on the front of his desk, moving two silvered goblin skulls to one side that are acting as paper weights for a map. "Sat on one of these devils the other day - hurt like hell! Now, before I go into why you are here, please, tell me a little of yourselves. I know you are all capable in your own fields, as my associates in the city who have been observing you for the last day or two have told me. But I would know a little of your backgrounds...?"
Barius stands in the back trying to hide behind the others in the small room. Finding a shadow cast by the fire he settles into it and listens the conversation very intently.
[dice=Sense Motive] 1d20+7
** spoiler omitted **
Barius
Spoiler:
Barius just gets a sense of sincerity from the priest. As to his companions, possible unease.
Here is Ishmal my 1/2 orc Monk for review. If he looks good I'll make a profile... Let me know...
Ishmal
** spoiler omitted **...
Ishmal looks ok. Go ahead and write up the profile.
Spoiler:
a little hook you may want to use is that several brothers from your order have never returned, after going on a pilgrimage along the Coast Road. They were last heard of discussing paying a visit to an ancient Cloister in the area. Feel free to use it if you like and adapt it as you want.
In the side office, a fire is burning in the grate, and a rather rotund man in the garb of a priest of Muir sits behind a large ironwood desk. He smiles as you enter, smiling knowingly at Mythandyr .
"Heroes?", he nods toward the direction of the main hall. "I am Barahil of Muir.My esteemed comrade Bofred has put a lot of time and expense into his pet project. A worthwile cause? I think so. A cause with a chance of success? I have my doubts. But who am i to judge. For that is why I have requested your presence here. I too have a quest that I wish to undertake. However, the rigors of age conspire against me and so I must look to younger and more capable individuals. Would you all be interested in hearing me out?"
Sorry...I didn't check the discussion thread, I thought the next contact would be through facebook...guess I missed out.
Hi Steve. Partly my fault as I don't think I will be using the facebook page yet. However, I would still be more than happy to have you on board as a 1st level character. We have two fighters, two clerics, a wizard, and a rogue. Feel free to add to this. (plus I visited Daytona last year and had a great day so that's swung it as well!)
As you go about your business in Bard's Gate, each of you have been approached by a young acolyte of the church of Thyr. A simple message was relayed from the young priest. 'Your presence is requested at Temple Square on the hour of midday, this very day.' Apart from that short message, nothing else could be gleaned from the acolyte.
Later....
The bells atop the The Exalted Temple of Thyr the Lawgiver, toll their midday song, echoing throughout the bustling temple district of Bard's Gate. As the peals begin to fade, the first of the faithful make their way into the square, dressed in black, as if attending a funeral. They slowly fill the square, moving quietly across the worn, paving slabs, their eyes downcast. It is here that you all find yourselves, summoned at the bequest of the temple elders. After a few moments, a murmur passes through the crowd as it slowly parts to let the High Priest, Bofred the Just through. He leads the way inside the temple. Rows of wooden benches face the high alter of Thyr. Tall stained glass windows line the walls behind a regal statue of the deity, a stern warrior armed with a mighty sword.
Bofred walks to the alter, behind which lies a large stone table, laden with backpacks and supplies. Once he reaches the alter, Bofred stops and turns to address the assembled crowd. With deep blue eyes and short cropped blond hair, Bofred seems to radiate a peace and power from within.
“Once again the winter winds blow down from the Stonehearts, marking the end of another harvest. There are fell beasts roaming the lowlands, howling at our walls, and serpents in our shadows, waiting to strike. Just as it was one hundred and seventy-four years ago, when Bofred, my namesake himself left these walls on his brave quest, so it is today. But what know ye of the legend behind his great and holy quest. Listen whilst I tell the tale of the Tradgedy of Bofred the Just. But first we must delve back into the distant past.
You are not sure, but the light from the numerous lanterns within the hall seem to grow dimmer and the flames within flicker momentarily, casting vivid shadows across the walls.
"As you all know, the northern walls of our fair city look out over the vast river valley that disappears into the hills in the hazy distance. Our mighty gates fixed into that wall rarely open now. Few now stand atop the North wall and gaze out upon that hazy vista or care to think about what lies beyond those distant highlands. Fewer still are brave or foolish enough to make the journey in that direction. We rely on the commerce from other roads in other directions and pays no mind to the North, for to the North, beyond the village of Taverlan and the distant Purple hills and across many leagues, lies the reminder of one of the most tragic moments in the history of not only our city but of all the civilized kingdoms. To those who even care to remember, the North gate leads only to bad memories or mournful legend. To the rest it leads to where only madmen would dare to go"
(the high priest pauses, as if for effect) — "The ruined city of Tsar and the great Desolation that surrounds it."
(At these words, a great many of the congregation cross themselves with the symbol of Thyr).
Bofred gazes around the congregation "Tsar, the great temple-city to the Demon Prince of the Undead, stood for centuries as a bastion of evil and hate. Foul beings of all kinds flocked to its mighty walls and found succor and purpose within. At its heart stood the great Citadel of Orcus, the black heart of Orcus worship on earth. Countless evils were perpetuated in those corrupt precincts, and equally countless wicked plots were hatched and carried out therein. Finally the goodly kingdoms could stand the presence of this festering boil in their midst no longer. The churches of Thyr and Muir led a delegation of good and neutral faiths to Graeltor, the last overking. Only with the backing of the nations’ secular armies would the holy churches be able to erase such a blight. In his last major pronouncement before the overthrow and fracturing of the kingdoms into the independent nations they are today, Overking Graeltor called for a mighty crusade to tear down the walls of Tsar and forever end the presence of Orcus worship in the world.
This crusader army, raised from all nations and almost every non-evil faith, became known as the Army of Light and marched for Tsar. In command of this army Graeltor placed his most trusted advisor, the archmage Zelkor. Supported by innumerable knight commanders, wizards, church patriarchs and scores of heroes of renown, Zelkor quickly advanced his army from its staging ground of Bard’s Gate, through Tsar’s outermost defensive positions and into the great plain that surrounded the temple-city itself. Flush with their many quick victories, the Army of Light suddenly found arrayed against itself seemingly endless legions of every sort of vile warrior-race and fell outsider imaginable called up from all over the multiverse and lining the battlements and fields before their redoubt—one of the greatest fortresses and citadels ever erected in that time. The beginnings of doubt seeped into the ranks of the Army of Light. However, hope was not lost as the heavens opened up and flight upon flight of angels and celestial beings descended from on high to swell the ranks of the Army of Light."
(At this, a chorus of oohs and aahs can be heard coming from cerain younger members of the crowd)
"With grim determination in both camps, battle was joined on the plain before the gates of Tsar. The war raged for over a year, the Army of Light advancing to the very foot of the walls and then being pushed back by a new surge of demonic power. The disciples of Orcus led by the Grand Cornu, Orcus’s single highest-ranking priest on the mortal planes, threw every vile attack they could at the Army of Light in defense of their city. Rains of horrific fire and acid fell from the skies or belched from fissures in the ground, great constructs crushed their foes before them, terrible clouds of poisonous gas choked entire regiments, and heretofore unknown plagues swept through the troops causing thousands of horrible deaths among the Army of Light.
Nevertheless the forces of good persevered and fought on. Finally, though the battle seemed no closer to victory, the fates seemed to smile on the Army of Light. Unexpectedly the city fell. In a single night the entire city virtually emptied of defenders as they all were magically transported to a point several miles outside the city’s walls, complete with baggage train and mounts for many. The magical expenditure necessary to complete this miraculous maneuver cost the Grand Cornu his very life in sacrifice to Orcus, but the legions of the demon prince had broken free from the Army of Light’s cordon. They immediately took flight before the stunned Army of Light, heading south.
Zelkor and his fellow commanders were immediately suspicious of this sudden retreat but could not afford to allow the combined followers of Orcus concentrated in one place to escape and spread their insidious evil again. A cursory sweep of the city by scouts proved that the withdrawal was no ruse, so Zelkor left one of his most powerful knights, the paladin Lord Bishu, with a company of knights to secure the citadel and hold it until the Army of Light could return and properly destroy it. Then, still with a seed of doubt niggling in his mind, Zelkor ordered the Army of Light in pursuit of the fleeing legions.
The tale of that long pursuit is an epic in and of itself, which is best saved for another day. Suffice to say, finally the Army of Light cornered the forces of darkness in a forest near a rugged coastline. In anticipation of a great victory, the forest was prematurely named the Forest of Hope. The naming proved to be a cruel irony, for in the forest the followers of Orcus had been preparing a great trap for years in case just such an occasion ever arose. Both armies disappeared into the forest. Neither ever emerged.
The Army of Light was lost to a man. The shock of the loss of so many heroes, nobles, and leaders of renown reverberated throughout the kingdoms. The overking was overthrown in the unrest that followed. Minor wars erupted as new factions took over old power bases bereft of their leadership. When all was done and a semblance of peace returned, the lands looked much more like they do today. Some said the loss of so many was worth it for the eradication of the foul cult of Orcus. Others said it had been a scheme concocted by the demon prince all along to destroy his most powerful enemies and sow hate and dissension throughout the civilized nations. Years later when a terrible graveyard and thriving dungeon complex devoted to Orcus was discovered in the Forest of Hope, popular opinion agreed with the latter theory. It seemed Orcus had not been eradicated after all, just relocated, and once again his insidious evil began to spread throughout the lands.
For the past century attention has been turned to delving into this so-called Dungeon of Graves and rooting out the evil now entrenched there. However, what remained of the temple-city of Tsar was a vast, abandoned ruin surrounded by miles and miles of poisoned and scarred wasteland left behind by the battling armies. It was all but forgotten as a bad memory of despair with no value save as an eyesore and wilderness home for strange and fearsome beasts that moved into the desolate area. The knights of Lord Bishu, left behind at Tsar, were likewise forgotten as they, too, were never heard from again.
In the wake of the great tragedy at the Forest of Hope, no one thought to check into the ruins themselves, and all who knew about this relatively small group that had been sent to the city had perished in Orcus’s trap. The people of the civilized nations went on with their lives with, perhaps, a little less hope and optimism than before. Tsar was forgotten, and the land around it shunned and remembered only as the Desolation.
While the rest of the world looked southwards for the future, some few remembered the distant exotic markets of the far north. Those brave or foolish enough to try reopened the trade road that passed through the Desolation to once again reach those far lands. The temple-city’s ruins were universally avoided and little thought of.
Why would anyone wish to go to almost certain death?
What could still exist in the unknown holes and broken towers of Orcus’s greatest earthly bastion?
What could lie undisturbed, awaiting some possibly preordained time to awake in the ruins of Tsar?
Where are the heroes?
Where are the brave folk that will venture out to Tsar and return to tell of the fate of the lost heroes of light?"
Bofred leans forward over the alter, casting his eyes over the crowd
"Well, I will tell you all....They are amongst us now!" and with a sweeping motion of his arm, a curtain at the back of the hall is pulled aside and a group of seven individuals march into the temple. All dressed for travel, and obviously well equipped for a long journey, these men and women stand with a grim countenance, as if knowing that the weight of expectation rests upon their shoulders. Bofred turns from them and anounces to the assembled crowd,
"Behold, the Company of the Risen Saint." Cheers go up around the hall as the group of adventurers are surrounded by women and children, whilst men look on admiringly.
At this point, a side door opens and an acolyte enters the room and moves amongst the crowd, stopping at each of you and asking if you would be so kind as to follow him through into the temple offices. As you follow the young priestess, the words of Bofred can be heard ringing around the temple-
“I present to you these brave heroes who will follow in Zelkors footsteps! Some of them may not return, but I say to you that their sacrifice shall not be forgotten. Go, brave heroes, and do not return until you have news.”
With that, the high priest points to the North, the direction of Tsar. The congregation begin waving goodbye with proud, solemn looks on most of their faces.
I finally got around to reading the volumes of information Grimmy posted for background on the campaign region and Bard's Gate in particular (big props to you Grimmy!) and I was intrigued to see the proprietor of the Felled Ogre shares my family name of Hammerhand. Is he also a Dwarf? If so, he might be a relation of some sort and Xanthar is almost sure to assume some connection even if it isn't there.
Good spot Logan. ** spoiler omitted **
I'm glad I waited. I see you are a very good DM mister Scythemaster.
I hope you didn't mind the info I upload so far, it seems most PbP begin with so much setting familiarity, Golarion is so well known.
Thanks for that Grimmy. Very much appreciated. Hope you enjoy the campaign as much as I'm looking forward to it (Have to admit to getting a bit of the answer for Logans questions curtesy of RA Salvatore!)
Mythander/Grimmy: I just noticed something when reviewing your character sheet that I had missed the first time through....you have made your Human PC 64 years old which would place you in the Old Age category. This would impact your stats to the tune of -3 to STR, DEX and CON and +2 to INT, WIS and CHA. It doesn't look like you accounted for those in your build.
Unless GM Scythe wants to allow you to just "wave" those adjustments away to allow you to play an old character for flavor, you'll either need to make the necessary adjustments to your stats or lower your character's age.
Also, it looks like you still haven't reduced the damage listed for your Quarterstaff.
Huh, I always thought the age category adjustments didn't matter with point buy. Not sure where I got that idea. I guess because we started using point buy the same time we got hero lab, and I remember my brother and I noticed the program didn't make stat adjustments for age, so we just figured it all washed out in the point buy since that system was new to us too. We always rolled before that.
I think we did a couple tests to check our theory and it seemed to confirm what we thought but we must have used middle age and human (or orc or half-elf) because otherwise I can see now it does make a difference.
Anyway, I only made Mythander 64 y/o to match the avatar image, it's a shame paizo doesn't let you upload your own, they only have a few I like. The pregen Mythandyr was quite a bit younger.
I am cool with playing him old for flavor waving the adjustments, changing his age, or rebuilding him with the adjustments.
What does DM think?
As for quarterstaff damage that's weird I'm sure I changed it. Maybe didn't save my changes. I'll fix it now.
I'm cool with you playing him older with no mods. Always like the idea of wizards being older.
I finally got around to reading the volumes of information Grimmy posted for background on the campaign region and Bard's Gate in particular (big props to you Grimmy!) and I was intrigued to see the proprietor of the Felled Ogre shares my family name of Hammerhand. Is he also a Dwarf? If so, he might be a relation of some sort and Xanthar is almost sure to assume some connection even if it isn't there.
Good spot Logan.
Spoiler:
The felled ogre is indeed run by Durst Hammerhand. Durst is a human barbarian from the far frozen Northern Reaches. Durst lost his tribe and his family in an attack by a marauding band of ogres when he was only twelve years old. He was saved by a passing dwarves expedition, who stumbled onto the stragglers of the ogre raiders. Durst was rescued from certain slavery, or worse, and in his rage slew the ogre who had captured him, after the dwarves had disarmed it. Durst was taken along with the dwarves and over time was adopted by one of them. Durst took the name of this dwarf as his family name when he went out into the world, as a mark of respect and gratitude. So, Durst, upon his retirement named his inn after the event from his childhood. His story of where the name came from has been embellished over the years to the extent that he now tells the tale of decapitating the ogre with a single blow of his fist. He even keeps a pickled ogres head in a large jar behind the bar. So as you see, yes,you could be related if you wish, although not by blood or race, but by family.
As we have had no reply yet from Sinoth, I will begin the campaign thread proper later today. Hopefully he will join later but if not, I will post a request for a new 1st of fighter.
Thanks for the info upload Grimmy. Very much appreciated. I now have the introduction to the campaign pretty much sorted, so once we have everyone registered, I will look at getting the intro posted and then we can take it from there.
(I remember back in the real old school days playing a wizard and having to manage every single spell component. It was a pain but also really made me get into that character.)
I'm beginning to think I might be the only person on earth playing pathfinder who misses that sort of thing :)
Ah well, if we are handwaving our provisions I guess Mythandyr is not impacted much. If my replacement characters come into play I will just redo their equipment lists at that time.
For clarity's sake though, if we are handwaving food, water, etc., what falls under "etc"?
Can I mark dungeon walls without chalk, can I write letters without ink and parchment, do I sleep comfortably at night in freezing rain without a bedroll or a tent? Can I carry away a pile of gold without a sack? Can I jam a door with a piton I never bought and which never weighed me down? Can I impress a group of travelers who let us share their campsite by making a savory stew from a brace of conies if I don't carry any herbs or spices?
This may seem like common sense to you guys but bear with me. I came to pathfinder straight from ad&d after a 15 year hiatus, and every one I play with IRL was introduced to the game under me as a DM. I don't even know if the way we played back in the day was typical, my group may have been a little insular, I never went to cons or anything. So I only really know one style of play. I'm aware from reading the boards that a lot of these aspects of the game are considered tedious by modern game standards, but I'm not sure to what degree.
I'm not making a stink about it, I'm thrilled to be in this campaign. Just curious where the line is. It's actually a distinction that impacted a lot of decisions about my two backup characters considerably, but less so for Mythander, so all is well.
I do believe that you and I would probably have adventured with very similar groups. I never went to Cons and I suppose the style of play we had was pretty unique.
To answer your question though, things like chalk, bedroll, sack backpack, pouches, empty vials, rope, pitons, tent....that sort of thing (basically things that are used to solve a problem or carry something) should be accounted for. Food, spices, water - I would just assume that you have enough to get by on.
I guess I need to ask ScytheMaster (GM) to chime in on his requirements for realism for our characters:
1)I have been pointing out to some players that they only have the bare bones equipment (armor and weapons) because I was ASSuming that playing "old school" meant we had to account for things like food, water, bags to carry stuff, torches, etc. I know that in modern gaming much of that micromanagement has gone by the wayside. If the GM wants to keep things simple and just assume that we "have what we need" then I will stop harping on this issue and probably get rid of much of my "extra" stuff as it is kind of a pain to track.
2) A related issue is: Do we need to buy mounts? Right now I have spent most of my money on the equipment I have posted on my sheet. If we DO need to account for mounts then I will need to change several items on my sheet (armor, most importantly) as a horse and the associated accessories (bit & bridle, saddle, feed, saddlebags) will amount to a pretty substantial sum (100+ gp for a non-combat horse). Again, he may say "Screw it! You just get there" and this will be a non-issue.
Fair point from Logan.
I think we can assume that the characters have food, water etc and as such don't need to micro manage. Things like arrows, bolts etc should still be kept track of though. (I remember back in the real old school days playing a wizard and having to manage every single spell component. It was a pain but also really made me get into that character.)
As for mounts, I think that you will all be supplied with them near the beginning of the campaign.
