Torque Mitabu's page

and a fine OOC thread it will turn out to be, I'm sure

Your adventure begins under the porch of the Iadenveigh town hall, sheltering from one of a irregular rain storms that sweeps over Southern Numeria at this time of year. The rain rustles on the thatch over your heads. The six of you have arrived over the past hour and now wait to be told exactly what it is you've been hired to do.

It doesn't matter if you're a newcomer to Iadenveigh or were born and raised in the rustic town, you can see the town is in a bad way. You look out over a roughly cobbled square hemmed in by low thatched houses of well cut stone. At the centre of the sqaure a cart piled high with barrels and sacks waits. The men that load it move wearily, more wearily than just the rain could account for. They're loading food they should really be eating onto that wagon, ready to be hauled south to the markets of the River Kingdoms. As they work the driver of the wagon counts out gold pieces to a pair of halflings in dark red leather armour, it's metal trim gleaming in the rain. It's the uniform of Huron's Flameslingers – the only thing keeping this town alive.

They're certainly worth their fee. Over the rooftops on the far side of the sqaure you can just about make out through the shroud of rain a large shape rising into the sky. The dozen or so halfling battle-wizards use a magic carpet to patrol the river to the east, blasting down the packs of undead monstrosities that surge out of the ruined farmland to the east every few hours. The work round the clock to hold back the swelling tide of zombies, and for now they're almost succeeding. Almost. You can hear from the other side of town a church bell ringing to mark the end of a funeral. Every week or so the mages aren't quite quick enough and a pack slips though, and then deaths happen. Some die in their doorway of their home with an axe in hand and a prayer to Eristal on their lips, some are dragged down as they run hopelessly for the town's lights, but what matters is those church bells are never silent for more than ten days. Still, if it wasn't for the Flameslingers the streets before you would be crawling with undead. That's why the two halflings are walking away with a pouch of gold and the farmers who loaded the goods are leaving with aching backs.

The rain seems to be letting up slightly when the heavy door behind you opens, showing a well lit room beyond. A rough looking Kellid man – as if there are any other kind – stands in the doorway. He's dressed like he's just come in from the forest and intends to go back as soon as the meeting is done.

"Good, you're all here. Come in, let's make this quick."

As you file into the pleasantly dry hall he nods to two of the assembled mercenaries

"Well met Damrag. I'm glad we've got one lad going out there we can count on. You too, Obadiah. I...guess you know better than I if you're ready for this"

He glances at the bell tower as it falls silent. Then, he closes the hall door. There's a long table set out in the hall, though you're disappointed to see that no food or drink is laid out on it. There are chairs ready for each of you on one side. On the other are two people, a middle aged Varasian woman dress plainly but neatly in the robes of one of Eristal's clerics and an uncharacteristially slight half orc with an unkept black beard and a blacksmith's apron. The kellid man joins them – they're clearly the council, but they've also clearly got work they'd like to be getting on with. The woman speaks first:

"Well met. For those of you who don't know I'm Bordana and this is Kelt and Tarrand"

She gestures to the kellid and the half-orc respectively

"The three of us are the town council. We keep this place running as best we can"

She smiles at Damrag and Obadiah

"Now, to the task we're set to hire you for. It's very simple. Dodge the packs of dead, go to the Choking Tower and drag whatever WRETCH is making these horrors back here to justice."

Rage slips through her calm demeanour slips for a moment. Then she settles down and looks over to Tarrand. The half orc speaks next:

"The village has little to spare for down payment. The rewards stands at twenty thousand gold, but right now we're tied up paying the Flameslingers. If you succeed their work will be done and we'll pay you but we can't afford to let gold walk off into the wilderness never to be seen again"

Kelt grunts in agreement, then takes his turn to speak
"You know and we know this is a risky job. Still, you look like a...mixed bunch. I'm sure you've got plenty of tricks between you. Unless you want to swim over the river you'll be wanting to head for gibbet bridge. We've got it all blocked up – we hold the bridge, the mercs hold the rest of the river. After that, there's half a dozen miles of farmland dotted with houses you can turtle up in. Then it's fourty miles of wasteland until you hit the Ashen Forest. That's all I can give you. You might want to talk to Crux about which ways the dead tend to wander.

Those of you local to Iadenveigh know Gillian Crux is the so-called Tutor-sergeant of the Huron's Flameslinger squad employed by the town. Tarrand has already got up and his heading for the door having muttered something and gotten the ok from Bordana.

"Like I said, we kept it quick. Any of you got any questions?"

The Set-up: Fierce devotion to Erastil and a loathing of the dark practices of the technic league unites the people of Iadenveigh, an isolated town in southern Numeria. They persecute any users of technology who dare to enter their village, and many have found to their cost that Iadenveigh's definition of 'technology' is dangerously vague. Now, however, it seems they have angered something more than an ill-informed gunslinger or alchemist.

Unnaturally fast zombies have begun preying on outlying farmsteads and woodcutter's lodges. Those few that have been slain have had their minds hollowed out and replaced by complex clockwork devices that reek of necromantic magic. A number of brave souls have ventured into the forests many days to the east looking for the source of the blight and a handful have made it back. They bring disturbing news – the mysterious Choking Tower has erupted with activity, and strange machines are tearing apart the forest around it.

Luckily for the people of Iadenveigh they are not defenceless. The river that seperates them from their overun farmlands is guarded by a troop of mercenary wizards who's spells have thus far kept the town itself safe. The town council, however, cannot afford to pay them to go on the attack. The packs are slowly becoming hordes, and so a call has gone out for further soldiers of fortune who are strong, cunning and – most importantly – affordable.

Tone: The aim is to bring the trappings of the old Iron Kingdoms campaign setting to Glorian. The steam-tech will be slowly introduced as the party discovers the mysteries of the Choking Tower, and if all goes well will eventually lead to vehicles and other player-designed machinery. Magic vs technology (or more accurately, magi-tech) will be a key theme.

Character Creation: Characters will begin at level 1, with stats bought with a 20 point buy. They will have maximum starting wealth. All classes and races in the Core rulebook and the APG are permitted. I'm looking for six players able to post at least once a day – on tuesday I'll pick the six pitches that would give a well-balanced party with interesting roleplaying dynamics (though if you all outdo yourselves I may have to roll for it!).

Knowledge (engineering) will be more useful than usual in this storyline. Undead, constructs and humaniods of various kinds will be the main antagonists. Numeria sees mercenaries from all over the inner sea and beyond heading for the worldwound, so almost any backstory is workable. Characters can know each other prior to the game if you wish, or they could be strangers.

I've been told a couple of times at 'ranger is a solid class as long as your DM isn't tight and never lets you face your favoured enemy'. This begs the question - how often SHOULD favoured enemies rear their ugly heads for the ranger to be balanced against the other classes? I ask this from the perspective of a rookie DM, not an embittered ranger player.

there are 32 favoured enemy options. Should, over a sufficiently long period of time, each type feature in one in every 32 encounters? Or should the DM specify the more common types of foe in a given campaign so that rangers can be tailored to said campaign? If so, how common should 'common' be? Does the class becomes overpowered if favoured enemy is applicable in the majority of encounters, or should that be the case?