If I weren't already in so many, I'd totally be down to play this. Just posting to A) Let you know that this looks like it will be really fun (maybe when one of them end I might be able to jump in?), and B) so I can follow this thread and see where it goes.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Do you have difficulty fitting everything you want into your signature? Then check out the Extended Signature thread!
Rain pounds down on Dhun Crowe hard enough the to make the buildings, sky and streets merge into a murky gray with floating orange windowpanes and doorways scattered seemingly at random. Out in the street it's cold and miserable, but people brave it. There's a bard singing and playing some kind of bowed string instrument, smirking sideways with a pointed goatee. He's been injured, seemingly on the mend, and earning some coin in his downtime. Those stuck out in the rain are waiting for the latest caravan of refugees down from Girts Wall—some to reunite with lost family, others to make an offer to one of the famed adventurers that pass into town with each load of new townfolk, and a stoic few are representatives of the city: a magistrate and a few guards, to guide the new arrivals to their temporary lodgings and inform them of the plague which has forced the sealing of some quarters of the city.
Sat shoulder to shoulder on a hard wooden bench in one of the long, creaky wagons two of the new arrivals have had plenty of time to get to know one another: a dirt-streaked human dressed for travel with weapons over his back and a dejected-looking hill dwarf dressed in a cloak over what sounded like fairly heavy armor. The wagons have been listing and rolling along, over the unpaved trails, like small boats on the ocean. Six days, only the first and last nights in towns, more fortresses really, the rest camped in circled wagons in shifts. There’d already been a lot of fighting—most of it just shouting and thrashing shadows against the fabric of the tents in the distance. Every so often there’d be a service to bury one of the caravan guards—most of whom were adventurers who had hired on for free passage and instead ended up with a shallow pit under rotten leaves in some unknown hostile forest. So when the caravan finally pulls into Dhun Crowe and the big flaps get pulled back for the last time and the two have a chance to finally set foot in their new home—there’s emotion there. There’s been sacrifice made for them to get here.
Amid those waiting in the rain are two, if not locals, at least folk from the other side of the Wall. They know the lands here and how rugged and uncivilized they are, and are familiar with the city of Dhun Crowe and the chaos it represents: like a lone tree washing down an angry river with creatures of every kind clinging to it, not eating each other if only for fear of tumbling into the black water and drowning. Two of them had met already, if briefly. One was an aasimar, glowing white eyes hidden beneath heavy robes to protect him from the rain, robes that seem a bit overstuffed compared with those around him to contain the enormous set of folded wings on his shoulders—but it’s the strange and somewhat unwholesome looking accoutrements of his trade that are really why people give him a bit of extra space: weird skin-crawly glyphs and undeath imagery. Outcast next to him amid the steaming crowd is a tall proud hobgoblin at rigid attention even with streaming water running down her face. Leather armor, spear, serious yet civil and polite and disciplined. Both share a similar intention—to find enough adventurers to team up with that they can face the wilderness out there and begin to advance their agendas.
The wagons roll in. Guards undo the flaps and lay down ramps for those departing, who clomp their way down the boards, those in front holding weak hooded lanterns. In places the crowd rushed forward, family spotting a familiar face and welcoming them in. Lots of lanterns and torches raise in the crowd as well. The magistrate has mounted a little podium and begins fussing with light and papers to begin a welcome speech and direct traffic, but for now the last of the refugees has cleared the last of the wagons and the crowd is minging in a murmur. The dwarf, human, aasimar and hobgoblin find themselves facing one another in the crowd—and it seems an appropriate time for introductions.
Glog & Zynx: People are treating this so far like a typical PbP game, which is fine, but really the intent was to make an open space for gaming within a shared setting. Make characters and post them. Or make an NPC and have him do something nuts and have the PCs fight him, or burst in controlling some monsters. It really is supposed to be a shared setting--with hopefully enough drama and conflict to support this kind of thing. The whole "I DM the game and the players respond" is fun, but the hope is for this place to be a little more egalitarian. I may bring in some characters myself. Maybe some other folks might want to run games in the setting. Really guys. It's all up in the air. I hope people will use this place to play, not just lurk at the punchbowl wishing they could dance.
Ditto with time commitment. I understand juggling a ton of committed games is a burden. Hopefully you can feel free to come in here and blow off some steam, make crazy stuff happen and just enjoy the setting.
Anyway guys, have fun. Hope to see more of you!
For people having difficulties signing up on the Campaign page, the invite code is: ddb.ac/campaigns/join/53911885194157
GlogMorongo : Cherry Firewater looks like a bunch of fun.
Dhun Crowe is hardly festive, a stark thick walled city filled with a maze of ugly drab buildings, but there's a lot of people there...and money. And with all the grimness and tension, the idea of being able to take a break and see a carnival has a lot of appeal. It's a profitable stop. Unfortunately for the first night of the show it's crashing down rain. Not many takers. After the show most of the crew wander off to find dry places to drink. Cherry spots the commotion of the new arrivals while looking for a place to get out of the wet.
The Hobgoblin gives a short, stiff nod of respect and says, "Riila Ammidikaga, formerly of Legion Dhelcil, last of the Lawmind banner, I am here to gather skills and knowledge to allow me to right the wrong I was dealt." Throughout this, she was still standing at attention, and anyone looking carefully would note the very faint corona around her head, while the other thing that everyone noticed was the banner, on it the symbol for knowledge in goblin, before Acheron's symbol. a person examining the contence of her pack more closely would note a broken Hobgoblin blade.
(OOC: blade would be repaired for same price as longsword cost for a new one)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Post under the same name at Giant in the Playground, and rarely here.
Cherry goes off to find a busy tavern, with lots of hustle and bustle. Someplace she's less likely to be noticed rummaging through drunk people's things with all the bumping and revelry afoot. However, Wand ever so watchfully behind her, being very big brotherly as he is. Not graceful in the slightest, half-orcs like Wand don't really require it. Kind of a funny pair we make, a lightfoot and a half-orc, she always feels safe when he's near by.
If I weren't already in so many, I'd totally be down to play this. Just posting to A) Let you know that this looks like it will be really fun (maybe when one of them end I might be able to jump in?), and B) so I can follow this thread and see where it goes.
Do you have difficulty fitting everything you want into your signature? Then check out the Extended Signature thread!
Here's my Extended Signature!
Eldaron Execon, fallen aasimar warlock of atropos, the CR 100000000 super-giant-colossal-titanic zombie planet.
Name: Eldaron Execon
Class: level 1 warlock, patron destroyer
race: fallen aasimar (lore fits waaay better, even if the strength up is practically useless)
Spells:
Cantrips (2): Eldritch blast, create bonfire
1st level (1): inflict wounds, bane, arms of hadar, hellish rebuke
abilities: Necrotic Shroud (fallen aasimar)
quash the dead (prevent killed creature from becoming either undead or ressurected for 2 days per warlock level)
no rest for the restless (1 hour for undead minion after killing enemy, cr 1/8, max 2 undead)
stats
9, 14, 13, 10, 12, 16
skills: Arcana, History
o.O I have more posts then Zynx. I think this happened around the same time Matthias had more posts than me.
Just an average metalhead who plays DnD in his spare time.
PbP Character: Roberta Thalan, Void Beyond the Stars Otherside
PbP Character: Primus Eidolon, Eotha 2
PbP Character: Usmor Illiqai, Tomb of Corrosion
PbP Character: "Templar" Danver, You're the Villains
Homebrew stuff
Rain pounds down on Dhun Crowe hard enough the to make the buildings, sky and streets merge into a murky gray with floating orange windowpanes and doorways scattered seemingly at random. Out in the street it's cold and miserable, but people brave it. There's a bard singing and playing some kind of bowed string instrument, smirking sideways with a pointed goatee. He's been injured, seemingly on the mend, and earning some coin in his downtime. Those stuck out in the rain are waiting for the latest caravan of refugees down from Girts Wall—some to reunite with lost family, others to make an offer to one of the famed adventurers that pass into town with each load of new townfolk, and a stoic few are representatives of the city: a magistrate and a few guards, to guide the new arrivals to their temporary lodgings and inform them of the plague which has forced the sealing of some quarters of the city.
Sat shoulder to shoulder on a hard wooden bench in one of the long, creaky wagons two of the new arrivals have had plenty of time to get to know one another: a dirt-streaked human dressed for travel with weapons over his back and a dejected-looking hill dwarf dressed in a cloak over what sounded like fairly heavy armor. The wagons have been listing and rolling along, over the unpaved trails, like small boats on the ocean. Six days, only the first and last nights in towns, more fortresses really, the rest camped in circled wagons in shifts. There’d already been a lot of fighting—most of it just shouting and thrashing shadows against the fabric of the tents in the distance. Every so often there’d be a service to bury one of the caravan guards—most of whom were adventurers who had hired on for free passage and instead ended up with a shallow pit under rotten leaves in some unknown hostile forest. So when the caravan finally pulls into Dhun Crowe and the big flaps get pulled back for the last time and the two have a chance to finally set foot in their new home—there’s emotion there. There’s been sacrifice made for them to get here.
Amid those waiting in the rain are two, if not locals, at least folk from the other side of the Wall. They know the lands here and how rugged and uncivilized they are, and are familiar with the city of Dhun Crowe and the chaos it represents: like a lone tree washing down an angry river with creatures of every kind clinging to it, not eating each other if only for fear of tumbling into the black water and drowning. Two of them had met already, if briefly. One was an aasimar, glowing white eyes hidden beneath heavy robes to protect him from the rain, robes that seem a bit overstuffed compared with those around him to contain the enormous set of folded wings on his shoulders—but it’s the strange and somewhat unwholesome looking accoutrements of his trade that are really why people give him a bit of extra space: weird skin-crawly glyphs and undeath imagery. Outcast next to him amid the steaming crowd is a tall proud hobgoblin at rigid attention even with streaming water running down her face. Leather armor, spear, serious yet civil and polite and disciplined. Both share a similar intention—to find enough adventurers to team up with that they can face the wilderness out there and begin to advance their agendas.
The wagons roll in. Guards undo the flaps and lay down ramps for those departing, who clomp their way down the boards, those in front holding weak hooded lanterns. In places the crowd rushed forward, family spotting a familiar face and welcoming them in. Lots of lanterns and torches raise in the crowd as well. The magistrate has mounted a little podium and begins fussing with light and papers to begin a welcome speech and direct traffic, but for now the last of the refugees has cleared the last of the wagons and the crowd is minging in a murmur. The dwarf, human, aasimar and hobgoblin find themselves facing one another in the crowd—and it seems an appropriate time for introductions.
Glog & Zynx: People are treating this so far like a typical PbP game, which is fine, but really the intent was to make an open space for gaming within a shared setting. Make characters and post them. Or make an NPC and have him do something nuts and have the PCs fight him, or burst in controlling some monsters. It really is supposed to be a shared setting--with hopefully enough drama and conflict to support this kind of thing. The whole "I DM the game and the players respond" is fun, but the hope is for this place to be a little more egalitarian. I may bring in some characters myself. Maybe some other folks might want to run games in the setting. Really guys. It's all up in the air. I hope people will use this place to play, not just lurk at the punchbowl wishing they could dance.
Ditto with time commitment. I understand juggling a ton of committed games is a burden. Hopefully you can feel free to come in here and blow off some steam, make crazy stuff happen and just enjoy the setting.
Anyway guys, have fun. Hope to see more of you!
For people having difficulties signing up on the Campaign page, the invite code is: ddb.ac/campaigns/join/53911885194157
GlogMorongo : Cherry Firewater looks like a bunch of fun.
Dhun Crowe is hardly festive, a stark thick walled city filled with a maze of ugly drab buildings, but there's a lot of people there...and money. And with all the grimness and tension, the idea of being able to take a break and see a carnival has a lot of appeal. It's a profitable stop. Unfortunately for the first night of the show it's crashing down rain. Not many takers. After the show most of the crew wander off to find dry places to drink. Cherry spots the commotion of the new arrivals while looking for a place to get out of the wet.
The Hobgoblin gives a short, stiff nod of respect and says, "Riila Ammidikaga, formerly of Legion Dhelcil, last of the Lawmind banner, I am here to gather skills and knowledge to allow me to right the wrong I was dealt." Throughout this, she was still standing at attention, and anyone looking carefully would note the very faint corona around her head, while the other thing that everyone noticed was the banner, on it the symbol for knowledge in goblin, before Acheron's symbol. a person examining the contence of her pack more closely would note a broken Hobgoblin blade.
(OOC: blade would be repaired for same price as longsword cost for a new one)
Post under the same name at Giant in the Playground, and rarely here.
Cherry goes off to find a busy tavern, with lots of hustle and bustle. Someplace she's less likely to be noticed rummaging through drunk people's things with all the bumping and revelry afoot. However, Wand ever so watchfully behind her, being very big brotherly as he is. Not graceful in the slightest, half-orcs like Wand don't really require it. Kind of a funny pair we make, a lightfoot and a half-orc, she always feels safe when he's near by.
Barbarian lvl 1 here. Can i join!?
https://www.dndbeyond.com/profile/kyrk/characters/165717
Hey I'm wondering if you would have any open spots left for a half elf rouge in your campaign of so please contact me
Interested in joining as an NPC who jumps in occasionally
character is fifth level though....
I'm the idiot that decides to make Phil Swift in DnD.
Despair Xilnar, at your service. Dual-pistol high elf (formerly drow) bounty hunter, looking for answers about Asmodeus
I'm the idiot that decides to make Phil Swift in DnD.