With a jolt and a curse, you awaken to find yourself in a large wagon. The wagon is made from a bed of solid timbers with thick iron bars instead of walls. You glance about, seeing that you are not alone, the wagon is full of other prisoners. For that is what you must be, to ride in a wagon such as this. But what was your crime? In fact, what was your name? Who, and/or what, are you?
The following is a 'choose your own adventure' style campaign. Intended to be fun and lighthearted.
Start by creating a level 5 character of any Race/Class you choose. But keep it a secret if you can. Worry not for party balancing and archetypal roles. Make the character that YOU want to play.
If we end up with seven halfling rogues in a wagon... then that's the kind of story we'll play.
As a prisoner you will start with no weapons or equipment, only the clothes or armour your character would normally wear.
Drakiss awoke with a groan, a fierce pain in the back of his head, and tried to sit up. He failed, and as clarity returned to his addled mind, he realized that his wrists were bound together and chained to the floor. With a contemptuous snarl he prepared to blast the chains away. But first he glanced around and saw that he wasn't in a cell at all, he was in some kind of prison wagon. A grate monstrosity of a thing, all heavy timber and dark iron bars, packed full and surrounded by a score of armed guards. He could certainly blast his way free of the wagon, but that would merely see him in unfamiliar territory and surrounded by hostile guards.
No, he would wait and bide his time. Perhaps night would grant a better opportunity for escape, or maybe one of the other prisoners would escape first and he could slip away in the confusion. "What have you gotten me into this time oh great master?" He muttered quietly to himself as he hunched down to watch and wait.
Zonke discovers that the timber of the wagon floor is hard, but not impervious. He could perhaps carve his way through, but it would be neither quick nor subtle.
Eyes blarey and head pounding, I look around at the others in the wagon.They too look dazed and confused. I cannot help but notice an eclectic group from across faerun. One giant cat scratches at the timber floor and another muttering to himself while chenching flexing his fingers, both clearly dangerous.
I Lower my head again, wincing with pain. I note my clothes dirty and bare. No belt, tools... Nothing. How did I end up in this situation, what was the last thing I remember?
I go to reach my hand to my pounding head and check for wounds.
Daisy wakes up, looks around and flashes an unnerving and creepy smile at everyone in the wagon. She tries to twirl her red-haired braid innocently, but misses it completely, swirling a finger in the air by her head, and suddenly curses loudly when she realises. She grabs the braid and spins it forcefully in a very not-cute way.
"What's going on?" She asks, in a voice that sounds like cigars being ground out on sandpaper. "Where are we?"
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With a jolt and a curse, you awaken to find yourself in a large wagon. The wagon is made from a bed of solid timbers with thick iron bars instead of walls. You glance about, seeing that you are not alone, the wagon is full of other prisoners. For that is what you must be, to ride in a wagon such as this. But what was your crime? In fact, what was your name? Who, and/or what, are you?
The following is a 'choose your own adventure' style campaign. Intended to be fun and lighthearted.
Start by creating a level 5 character of any Race/Class you choose. But keep it a secret if you can. Worry not for party balancing and archetypal roles. Make the character that YOU want to play.
If we end up with seven halfling rogues in a wagon... then that's the kind of story we'll play.
I appear to be a Leonin!
I quietly scratch at the timber of the wagon bed wth my claws, testing its strength.
Drakiss awoke with a groan, a fierce pain in the back of his head, and tried to sit up. He failed, and as clarity returned to his addled mind, he realized that his wrists were bound together and chained to the floor. With a contemptuous snarl he prepared to blast the chains away. But first he glanced around and saw that he wasn't in a cell at all, he was in some kind of prison wagon. A grate monstrosity of a thing, all heavy timber and dark iron bars, packed full and surrounded by a score of armed guards. He could certainly blast his way free of the wagon, but that would merely see him in unfamiliar territory and surrounded by hostile guards.
No, he would wait and bide his time. Perhaps night would grant a better opportunity for escape, or maybe one of the other prisoners would escape first and he could slip away in the confusion. "What have you gotten me into this time oh great master?" He muttered quietly to himself as he hunched down to watch and wait.
Zonke discovers that the timber of the wagon floor is hard, but not impervious. He could perhaps carve his way through, but it would be neither quick nor subtle.
Eyes blarey and head pounding, I look around at the others in the wagon.They too look dazed and confused. I cannot help but notice an eclectic group from across faerun. One giant cat scratches at the timber floor and another muttering to himself while chenching flexing his fingers, both clearly dangerous.
I Lower my head again, wincing with pain. I note my clothes dirty and bare. No belt, tools... Nothing. How did I end up in this situation, what was the last thing I remember?
I go to reach my hand to my pounding head and check for wounds.
Daisy wakes up, looks around and flashes an unnerving and creepy smile at everyone in the wagon. She tries to twirl her red-haired braid innocently, but misses it completely, swirling a finger in the air by her head, and suddenly curses loudly when she realises. She grabs the braid and spins it forcefully in a very not-cute way.
"What's going on?" She asks, in a voice that sounds like cigars being ground out on sandpaper. "Where are we?"