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IS THIS PART OF THE SHOW!?" Enthuses the young elf scholar looking at it all in wide-eyed wonder. "Drat! I knew that I should have picked up one of those toy wooden swords at the concessions. Now which way were those concessions again?" She consults her fair event map.
After a while, Solemnia returns from the concessions with an overpriced pint mug engraved with the words 'Grand Convocation 4715', a greasy, overpriced turkey leg bundled in cloth napkins, an overly-large overpriced tunic with the words 'I was told there would be Dragons' embroidered into it with the text from her tankard (in the same font) writ beneath. With her mug free of mead she uses it to collect some water from a fountain to go back and water the overburdened shrubbery. Unfortunately for her, the curious topiary is not where she thought it was planted, and she spends a while wandering the grounds with a mug full of water asking people if they have seen a shrubbery.
*Bump* "I'm Sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt. Carry on!"
Thornrose wanders from crime scene to weightlifting contest "Ooh, this looks so fun!" Solemnia rushed through the weightlifting competition sees a heavy weight seeming casually set upon a small shrub. She give the bush a spot and helping to move the weight to the ground before heading on her way.
"There. That should help, little fellow."
Hello everyone! I got a little sick and this delayed my first post in all Outpost games (everything is fine now, thanks in advance). A maximum of 24 more hours and I'm with you. I hope for your understanding .) Hola, Alecto! Glad you could come.Go make some skill checks if you can to win some prize skill check bonuses later on!
Letting her nose guide her, Solemnia hurries through the center of the Talking Circle making hurried excuses as she passes through discussion.
And then the young elf scholar blunders into the mausoleum housing the trap mastery competition seemingly unaware of the possible nonlethal danger she is in.
Exiting with a bear trap attached to the back of her robe, she says wonderingly "I should have taken that left turn at the arbalest."
"I feel like I lost ten pounds in there!" proclaims the slender elf scholar upon exiting the port-a-privy. It draws more than a few laughs from the crowd causing her to blush and hurry away. Feeling empty again she decides to give the festival's food another try. With food court on the other end of the grounds she decides that a shortcut is in order and she cuts through some of the intervening acts and demonstrations focused solely upon her goal of getting a big, greasy shank of turkey--and a lot of napkins. It is because of this that she does not notice the obstacle course unfortunately placed in her way.
"That's great!" says a pale-looking elf woman in the robes of a scholar visibly fidgeting during the entirety of Marcos Farabellus's speech and the halfling's introduction. A man exits one of the temporary privies and she dives through the door. There's some noise and a loud sigh. A moment later a voice tinged with exhaustion says through the flimsy, closed door "It's really nice to meet you!" and "It's true what they say. You only really rent fair food and mead."
While the crowd is distracted and she has some cover Solemnia says the command word that affects her transformation from a mild-mannered scholar, at a great metropolitan research university and into the Lady of Laughter, that Costumed Queen of Chaos, the Clown Princess of Anarchy, the Mirthful Maiden of Mayhem--
"Right! Instead we have an un-elected council of twelve oligarchs, led by a 'Primarch' who's held the title for over half a century! YAY! Freedom!" cheers Solemnia waving her greasy turkey leg without a shed of irony. "We present to you all—the Passion of the First Siege of Absalom! A performance great and terrible, reenacting Absalom’s victorious slaughter of Warlord Voradni Voon’s troops upon the city’s rocky shores. As the highlight of this year's performance, directly following the Passion, the Pathfinder Society has generously agreed to a public unveiling of its latest acquisition, a terrifying device dredged from ancient ruins in the Mwangi Expanse. And now, ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. The performance is about to begin." "This is going to be GREAT! It almost reminds me of the time the Grand Lodge built that decorative, time-traveling, flower garden. Remember? It hasn't happened yet, but I remember it like it was tomorrow." Throughout the opening festivities the timid scholar lets her freak flag fly joiing in the cheers for someone named doing the wave, and generally getting greasy turkey fat all over the place.
"Excuse me. Pardon. Excuse me." Solemnia stands up in the middle of Charvion's pitch and makes her way to privy. "Excuse me. Coming through. Pardon me. Excuse me. Pardon." She makes her way to somewhere she can have a little bit of cover, but can still see the stage from.
As you make your way through the streets, a lean-faced man hiding behind a long cowl slips alongside. “A moment of your time,” he says and pulls you aside, into the shadows of a nearby alley. “It seems we have two things in common, an eagerness to participate in good celebration, and this…” He punctuates his sentence by holding out an elaborately carved wayfinder, the type only granted to Pathfinders of great importance. “I assure you, its mine,” he adds quickly, closing the device and tucking it back into the folds of his cloak with a quick, easy motion. Then he continues, “I know a good number of you are already planning to attend the festivities this evening." "Um, we are?" "I need but a casual favor. An old associate of mine, Charvion Eater-of–Bones is set to make an elaborate display of some artifact he claims to have recovered. I’ve not had contact with him in a year or so, and I’ve a curious feeling about the event." "Maybe it's the weather. You see I get this rash; just here, that-" "More I cannot say; however, I’d appreciate you keeping an eye on whatever stunt he’s considering. He’s a natural charlatan that one. Just keep an eye out is all—nothing serious. Don’t let him know that you’re watching, and do not approach the artifact during the showing. Most importantly, tell no one of this conversation.” squeaks Solemnia.
A pale, blonde elf, in scholar's robes wandering through the crowd stops at Egavreis's pronouncement and says "Um, that's a bit T.M.I." She shrugs and continues on "but 'when in Absalom,' I suppose. Ahem, I have this reoccurring rash just here." she points. "It itches like the dickens on days when it's damp out. Uh, I'm Solemnia, and I'm just here on advice from my proctor. He said I should get out more and take in some sun before I scare the rest of the scholars into thinking the school is haunted. You see it's because I'm usually at my studies, and um...." Solemnia laughs nervously. Stops and looks about unsure of what to do or say next.
GM: Oops, last spoiler didn't include a trigger. Solemnia stays outside and as Solemnia (and yes, I have the token right here) until whatever threatening horror she suspects is lurking in the shadows appears to scare the party. At that point, (or rather shortly before that point/when she becomes aware of said lurking horror) she changes and steps inside. If that doesn't happen this turn, then that's it for her until next turn. I suppose if a threat strikes in a way she doesn't/can't see coming that also bypasses her entrance.
Solemnia waits nervously by the door.
GM: She adjusts her circlet/hat of disguise and once everyone has moved inside and past her she transforms into the Marvelous Madcap!
Solemnia and Jurmo for a moment feel the mists whispering dangerous things to them, but they steel themselves against the whispers and move on. "What's that?" Solemnia asks no one in particular. Then realizing that she said it out loud points to her head and says "The voices." as if that explains anything. Clutching her pan and her journal she moves deeper into the room.
"Goodness, what a breathtaking view!" he says with wide-eyed wonder. "Do you think I have time for a quick sketch? Just to capture the image for later?" "W-why, thank you!" The thin elf scholar says blushing. "S-so many compliments. My mother always told me this was my best side. Oh, and I can't do anything in the nude--unless it is 'tasteful'. Mother explained to me all about artists." As the mist clears and Solemnia can at last see Jurmo clearly. The elf looks startled and says "Oh. I thought you were a girl. White hair. Lots of facial tattoos.... W-well, anyhow it is a pleasure to meet you I'm Solemnia Orikrana. I'm as part of a work-study program. This is all really quite exciting isn't it? Though I guess that this Trantos probably just made his way to the museum cafeteria, and just accidentally burned the stew he was making." "The masonry could use a little work. You see there just around that arch. The stones are beginning to crack. They could use replacing. Some pointing around the main gate would not go amiss either." "Jeepers. It looks kind of haunted...."
Merya isn't sure why the scholar seems so nervous, but she smiles at the woman in what she hopes is an encouraging way. "Aye," she agrees, her voice surprisingly deep and somewhat gravelly. "Do you know anything about this place?" "It's foggy." The interaction draws a wry smile from the flamboyant half-elf against the wall. "It is way hotter then I expected here." He is fidgeting with a strange set of interlinked metal rods. "T-thank you." Solemnia says appreciatively. "I-I washed my hair last night. Um, you look nice too! The parts that I can see anyhow.... T-the mist really lends you an air of mystery." Solemnia wanders over to a weaselly-looking Sausage-inna-Bun™ vendor and gets a breakfast she'll later regret while she waits for things to clear up.
'Twas the night before Game Day, when all through the house
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
With a haggard editor, fresh from an all-nighter,
"Now Tim! Now Amber!
As dry leaves that before the wind elemental fly,
And then, craning my ear to the roof perpendicular
He was dressed all in fake fur, for they are not overfond
His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His character, a multi-class ninja, pirate, half-dinosaur elf,
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his editing work,
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
"Happy Game Day to all, and to all a good game night!"
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The discussion thread. Do avoid getting your tears and broken dreams on the floor. ;P
The shining capital of Andoran, Almas is the center of everything the nation holds dear. Sadly the realities do not hold up to the dream, to the surprise of none. More so these days as word spreads of a killer thought dead and buried, their acts continue and the city suffers. To the delight of parties unknown. Fives years Zatsa had called Almas home. Five years she danced and sang for coin. Five years of living a life of inns and taverns as she collected her meager pay and humble rooms. How much longer would she endure such a life and what was the point of it. Did it matter, did she matter? Such thoughts were common for those that cared to think beyond the simple comforts of life. Fate was often fickle and more then a little cruel. Perhaps that is why fate is so accepted as just another part of life. For what was life if not fate incarnate. So fate granted Zatsa it's favor. Strolling to yet another tavern to dance and sing she cut down one of the many side allies of Portside this young night. Only to stop dead in her tracks at the sight of darkness ahead, something her eyes should have no difficulty peering through. Her puzzlement lasted only as long as it took for a flash of yellow and red to throw her aside. Slammed against the ally wall she recovered in moments to find the darkness gone and a body before her. A yellow handkerchief at her feet and the sound of patrolmen coming. Fate was rarely kind.
Welcome Bring all complaints and pleas here. Thank you. ;P
Okeno is a den of suffering, filth, and evil or so many claim from their far off homes and simple seats. More often then not padded with the same hands that are bought and sold in the fleshfairs. What is the difference between our slaves and theirs, a name or honesty. The yellow city hides much, but never it's character. The song of laughter is heard as much as the chorus of pitiful cries. Still Okeno has her secrets and they are tended well by her children, both the bestial of form or heart. Jawahar is one of those secrets. While those of beastly form grow tame, those of beastly heart grow wild. Such is sweet Okeno's sway on those that crawl into her embrace. Yet what of those rare and unique few of both form and heart, what does she have in store for them. Jawahar will learn his fate, for Okeno is blessed or cursed by all. Their is no compromise among her streets and sweatways. The night is young, cool, and sadly foul as the winds flow over the tanning pits towards the rest of the city. Causing the stench of animal waste to hang over Okeno. Locals wear a sour face but endure it as usual, somehow the gnolls seem nearly immune to the smell. Their endless laughter unchanged from it's usual pitch. As always their was danger and opportunity to be had, even with the fresh smell of s@%% in the air.
Going to tell/write a story, takes place in Golarion. Fair warning I have no experience or advanced education in writing or literature. Feel free to post comments, questions, criticisms, and what not. All I ask is that they are placed in spoilers so anyone reading the story does not have to pass walls of unrelated text. Thanks and hopefully enjoy. :) ________________________________________________________________________
Making the bed, fluffing the single pillow, and picking up discarded clothes. These last three years of common and endless chores were finally coming to an end, yet not today. He would not slip, not now nor would he allow his guard to fall. Many before him did not survive and many after him would suffer that ill fate, he refused to stumble. Taking a moment to look around the single room, a luxury reserved not only for senior students but the exceptional ones at that. Everything was neat, clean, and orderly regardless of it's occupant's best efforts. He felt a tinge of pity for his replacement, it was his skill at cleaning that had granted him the post in the first place and kept him safe. Reserved by a older student enchanter for such services, few would trouble him. Not worth it for those in a position to challenge the enchanter and beyond those that could not, yet that too would end with his role. While his thoughts drifted to his fellow surviving apprentices, a shadow crossed the window. He quickly moved to the window, he saw it's source. The imps were massing on the wall, clearly plotting something for the completion of the third year class and their promotion to real studies and true students. He would have to prepare for that. The door suddenly opened, whirling at the movement one hand was in his pocket, the other crossed the broom handle in his hand across his body. The enchanter ignored him and went to his desk, forcefully opening the drawer. Taking a quick breath to speak the password before it's ward had a chance to trigger. "Where is it?" He doubted the question was for him but he responded all the same. "What do you seek Sir Barlow?" His dark eyes looked through the neatly stacked scrolls, tossing them without regard. His pale hands moving quickly, stopping only to push a lock of brown hair from his shoulder length cut behind an ear. "The oath scroll I got a few months ago. The one from that sickly looking necromancer from the hall of whispers for charming that tiefling guard. I can't remember his name, much less his face." Any other day he would fish for more information, yet it was his last day. Karver Barlow was no longer his problem or guardian, at least not for longer then a few more hours. "Third drawer on the right, fifth scroll in. If I remember correctly." He abandoned his current drawer for the suggested one. Grabbing the scroll rather roughly he opened it, a relieved smile quickly spread over his narrow chelixian features. "Perfect!" He left in a rush, returned a moment later. "Clean this all up, you can take one potion from my desk for the help and your promotion before closing it up. Good luck Bavius." With that he was gone. Karver was many things, grateful or detailed oriented was not among them. That was only his second gift in all his years of service. He had secreted away a number of items from him during his time with the enchanter. He never spent or used these items, in case he needed to find them should they be missed. In three years none had been noticed, then again Karver had a habit of getting his hands on a number of items he clearly could not afford. Certainly he made use of his enchantment spells, if nothing else he was unusually proficient in them. Personally he found it a little disturbing, the gap was far to great even for a specialist. He shook his head, it was not his problem or business. He plucked his final prize, reordered the desk and shut it. After another sweep of the room he would be done once and for all with it.
You recieve a letter from a messanger, it comes with a wax sealed scroll tube. The letter itself bares a wax seal but no insignia. Upon opening the letter it instructs you to take the scroll tube home and open it there in private. It clearly states to stop reading until you are home at this point as well. On a whim or with purpose you follow the instructions. Once in your home you begin to read the letter once more, the author states that the Solrath Consortium is interested in you. Is even willing to extend membership should you be found worthy. Should you refuse, burn the letter and scroll tube. Should you accept, unseal the scroll tube and read it's contents. Then head to the Blue Velevet at midnight and order a Orc's Tear for the private second floor table. You have a choice to make. Opening the Scroll Tube (Elvis Birchtree):
Upon opening and reading the contents, you find them to be a set of exercises. A teaching scroll of an unknown martial form. Once complete both the letter and scroll burst into unnatural flames that consume them. Not even ash remains but you find no difficulty in remembering what you have read. As well as a sense of new understanding.
Opening the Scroll Tube (Bastion Le'Stance):
Upon opening and reading the contents, you find an advanced guide to alchemy crafting techniques. Ways to make use of ingredients and tricks of the trade honed from someone with vast experience who did more then learn from their mistakes. Once complete both the letter and scroll burst into unnatural flames that consume them. Not even ash remains but you find no difficulty in remembering what you have read. With this knowledge you gain a sliver of skill from a master, making your crafting skills better then before.
Opening the Scroll Tube (Tynan Kaddren):
Upon opening and reading the contents, you find them to be arcane formula's and mastery tips. A way to make better more efficient use of the arcane energy that one so trained can call upon. Once complete both the letter and scroll burst into unnatural flames that consume them. Not even ash remains but you find no difficulty in remembering what you have read. This advanced knowledge now enhances your spellcasting techniques.
Opening the Scroll Tube (Xaviandrin Salhaziri):
Upon opening and reading the contents, you find them to be extensive and detailed studies of inherent weaknesses in vital points shared by most life forms. A in depth study of the weaknesses with in weak points to cause even more precise damage. Once complete both the letter and scroll burst into unnatural flames that consume them. Not even ash remains but you find no difficulty in remembering what you have read. This detailed knowledge of vital points now makes your strikes more devastating.
Opening the Scroll Tube (Marckus the Lucky): Upon opening and reading the contents, you find them to be a largely forgotten and holy text of your god. One that was once reserved for the most faithful of worshipers but was thought to be lost. For few were thought worthy of reading it, among them few were blessed by them in turn. Once complete both the letter and scroll burst into unnatural flames that consume them. Not even ash remains but you find no difficulty in remembering what you have read. The holy text of Korada has blessed you with empowered healing ability.
The Blue Velvet Tavern is a well kept place, naturally on the high end for Underbridge. Pressed against the stone back of the district it's exterior is like much in Underbridge unimpressive and seemingly in poor repair. But those who know anything of the shadow know not to trust their eyes. Like many things in the eternal gloom of Underbridge it is very much more then it seems. Still the meals and drink are fairly priced and among the best in the district by virtue of being fresh, unspoiled, and untainted in anyway. A rare thing in the shadow were fungus and mold thrive with the gloom and spray of the sea. Those that enter under the dark blue fabric that serves as her sign, find a spacious room of polished wood with matching tables and chairs. Simple but clean and taken care of. A burly human bartender at the bar and a whip thin gray skinned elf ever seated at the end of it, those in the know claim him to be the owner of the Blue Velvet. Yet few if any ever approach the elf much less ask. The bar maids ever attentive are made up of a mixture of races and ethnicities. Each alluring in her own way but never to be confused for anything more then a hostess and server. Less the bartender Mutt as he was known involve himself in correcting such assumptions.
Listen well Verdir, we will need to learn much of this land and it's people. We will need pawns and servants, new blood for the Solrath Consortium. The worthy will join us. The rest, well we need not concern ourselves with the rest so long as they do not cross us. This city named Magnimar will be ours to shape in time. Adventure Background
I'm looking for 4-5 players who are able to post at least once a day to keep things moving. About The Solrath Consortium:
The Solrath Consortium is largely unknown to all. A whispered organization that has appeared in Underbridge in fairly recent memory, few believe it is anything more then a rumor despite the persistent tales spoken in corners and alleys. Still their presence hangs in Underbridge like the morning mist, disappearing when any light is drawn to it yet returning time and again. Those few who have had dealings with the group refuse to say much, silence is often their answer. What is clear is their ability to get things done secretly and efficiently. Often without anyone being the wiser concerning their involvement, unless they allow it.
Application
Character Creation Crunch
The over DM has requested character submissions be completed by November 8th. Let me know if you have any questions.
It was said that once the game goes live and public that you wont be able to change any character you create. So lets say tieflings get added at some later date and you want to play one then you have to start all over. While I understand this, I would think that all your hard work should count for something concerning any new characters that are created later. So I was thinking would a family or for the sake of sense clan system be added to help new characters based off older characters accomplishments. Like minor bonuses or certain abilities of the other characters focus. Agreements, disagreements, or any feedback would be welcome.
The drow lost Celwynvian to the elves, the result of a foolish young matron. Yet the elves could not hold the city, their are still danger's lurking. An organization called the Wovirl have come from the darklands to take back the city. Your going to take back the lost city and more. I am looking for 2-3 players maybe more depending. The adventure has already started but is still early so anyone chosen will be coming into an existing group. I am looking for players that will use sound tactical thinking otherwise you will get killed. I am not out to kill you but if you do something in poor judgement expect a reaction by the enemy. The setting is Celwynvian after the drow were driven out, the great houses of Zirnakaynin want the city back in the hands of the drow. Yet none are willing to send their personal forces so they left it to a mercenary organization called the Wovirl which the PC's recently joined. You will be part of a group that is spear heading the mission. Character Creation
When it comes to your backstory do not have any ties with a House. I think that covers everything. If I missed anything or you have questions feel free to ask.
Deep below the surface of Golarion lies the dangerous and wonderous darklands. In the bowels and bones of the earth stand empires of shadow, the greatest of these empires is that of the drow. The seat of their power, the last home of the elves, Zirnakaynin is where a new chapter will begin. Not only for the drow but for the world above. Brang'el:
The drow summoner known as Spider sits in one of countless taverns, this one holding more then just drow patrons. The door opens, eyes dart out of habit not expectation, and a wispy drow with a dark feathered cap strolls in. He spots the Spider in a moment, removing a wax sealed letter bearing a insignia he drops it before him his hands open and empty. Without word and a departing bow he leaves as quickly as he came. The wax seal is the insignia of the Wovirl, a skull over a crossed dagger, wand, on a circle. The only question was what to do?
Elrivor:
Having just finished a mission for the Wovirl, one of the commanders told Elrivor he was to report to one of their bases in the city. He gave him directions and a time. He hinted that it was important and not to be late. It had been some time for Elrivor inside the Wovirl, he learned they were involved in just about everything. At times they even worked both sides of a conflict, with both sides aware no less. He had also learned that their were more of them then anyone knew, most of all they were secretive, careful, and dangerous. Elbennon:
Fresh from the school of fighting and yet to be a full member, none the less Elbennon's skill had gained him some notice in the Wovirl. Never passing up the chance to throw would be recruits into the fires of battle, he was informed to report to one of their bases at a certain time. They made it clear if he was even a moment late that he would not be allowed in. It took more then skill with weapons to become a full member of the Wovirl. Yasaen:
Yasaen showed up to one of the recruiting locations for the Wovirl. After some questions and simple test, he was handed a sealed letter and told to go to one of their bases at a certain time. He was to show up fully prepared for his final test, if he proved himself then he would also recieve his first assignment at that time as well. If not then he would be dead or maimed in which case it would no longer be their concern. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------- A dark fortress like mansion with a 15 ft. tall black iron fence around it stands before you. The gate is flanked by two 20 ft. guard towers inside and a pair of standing guards outside. At the center of the main gate is the symbol of the Wovirl, a skull over crossed dagger and wand atop a circle. This was one of their more "public" bases, where customers and such would come to speak with a representitive of the Wovirl.
Here is the discussion thread for the adventure. Enjoy ;)
You have all been summoned by Genedair the Faithful to the Seventh Church in the Ascendant Court. As you walk down the packed streets the temple comes into view, the site of Iomedae's seventh miracle. You notice a great many young priest moving about outside the temple, along with a impressive 10 foot statue of the goddess at the front of the church. One young priest is unmoving waiting beside the church entrance, a paladin from the near by Tempering Hall standing next to him. Perception DC 15:
You notice that the young priest are on more alert, as if on the look out for something. Perception DC 21:
You notice someone trying to pick your pocket and slap their hand away. In the dense crowd the thief escaped but your coin is safe. Failed Perception DC 21:
You lose 2d8 gold coins.
Welcome I would like everyone who was chosen to post to make sure your in and ready. Also to answer any questions or concerns. :)
I am running an adventure and taking at least four players, maybe more. You start out in Absalom. Starting Lvl- 12
Interesting characters and good backgrounds will be taken into consideration. But well built characters will have the best chance.
-Speaking to the Forgotten Dead, Vekro the Digger
I tend to have alot of ideas and stuff so I figured why not put them up rather then have them remain in the darkness of my hard drive. Enjoy and feel free to post any feedback. Gulaste Pellice, Lesser Priestess of the Forbidden Word
Money: 160 gp Light Blindness (Ex)
Cleric Spells (CL 6th, 1d20+6 to overcome SR): 3rd- cure serious wounds, summon monster III, meld into stone, dispel magic (D)
4/4+1/4+1/3+1 Combat/Tactics: Before combat Gulaste prepares for battle by casting bear's endurance, bull's strength, align weapon, and shield of faith on herself. During combat she attacks the weakest looking enemy and spellcaster's knowing that few can stand up to her. She will heal strong allies and herself but lets weak allies die. A favored tactic is moving near a cluster of enemies and channeling negitive energy as well as using her fury of the abyss power to finish off enemies near death. Gulaste retreats if reduced to 20 hit points or below once she is low on healing spells, she summons a dretch to keep enemies busy while she flees normally by casting meld into stone once out of sight and making her escape after her enemies are gone or have let down their guard. Friends/Allies: While Gulaste commands a number of allies under her, they follow her because of her rank and station alone. The only true ally she has is her personal bodyguard and sometimes lover Ghaunin (Fighter 4). Foes/Enemies: To many to list. Personality: Gulaste demands respect from those below her and plots to overthrow those above her. While she see's the worship of Abraxas as a path to power it is one that she truely believes in. Gulaste is always on the look out for enemies and pawns, a careful observer of anything new she is slow to act without knowledge.
Welcome, now that I have that out of the way this is the OOC thread. I would like the PCs to know each other before hand. Any ideas are welcome, you dont have to be buddies from years ago just know each other enough if you get my meaning. If you rather I come up with something off hand let me know.
I was thinking of running a one shot adventure, sense I have never DMed here. If things go well it may turn into a longer series of adventures. If anyone is interested let me know. Below are some rules for character creation for the interested. Character Stuff:
Starting level 1 25 point buy, no stat over 18 before racial mods and no stat under 8. Core races are good but am willing to allow others. Any class I have access to is allowed, but I reserve the right to disallow them with good reason. One starting trait, I may allow more. You get an extra 100 gp to starting your starting gold. No evil alignments, all others are fine. Let me know if I missed anything or if you have questions.
As the title says I am looking for a pathfinder pbp game. I have never played a pbp game here so I may not know how things work right away. I am interested in the Kingmaker adventure path but am open for any good game. |
