Ability scores: 12 16 16 15 9 9

Ability scores: 11 11 15 14 14 12

Ability scores: 15 14 13 13 11 14

21

17

14

18

15

20

I will have to redo those when I can for some reason my phone is not letting me drop the lowest at the moment. Sometimes it works and others I get this.

Just manually dropping the lowest, they should be 16 14 13 15 12 17

Just waiting for Ellie to post her ability scores, then we will be on our way! Just some information regarding this game.

I do have a couple of house rules, but these will be brought up when/if they become relevant. I DM two live games a week and have DM'd mostly 3.5 for over 10 years, but playing PbP should give me more time to ensure I'm not getting confused over 3.5! I am still relatively new to PbP, so bear with me sometimes as I get a grasp of it.

I am GMT time, so some of you will experience some gaps in responses, but I will aim to post at least once per day (but probably no posts over the weekend as i'm generally quite busy). When it comes to combat, I will post an initiative order, but you can post what you'd like your character to do in any order, and I will move it all about to comply with the initiative. If something changes, I'll let you know so you don't waste an action/spell.

All in all, lets have some fun. I'm not the type to duck out after a couple of sessions as my IRL groups can vouch for, but real-life comes first for all. If you think you're going to be unable to post for a few days let me know and we can make arrangements. Once Ellie has posted her ability scores and all characters have joined the Campaign using the link provided we will get underway!

Ability scores: 13 15 11 12 14 14

Ellie - You can re-roll the '6', as two that low isn't great. xD

A New World

Today is the 4th day in the holding cells. Although not quite prison standards, they're not much better. Thousands of people are crammed into cells that connect to Rift-Hall, the only legal entrance into New Waterdeep. You are all sharing a holding pen. The beds are straw filled and stacked one above another in 3's. A couple of buckets are chained to the stone in the corner, and a water trough is sat next to the bars for cleaning and washing. You are fed three times a day, and the meals are relatively well-made. You have been allowed to exercise twice a day in the yard outside.

A Dwarf woman named 'Minister Trask' is your appointed sponsor. She has spoken to you all a few times during your stay and has so far only shown you kindness. She visited this morning and informed you that you will be 'assigned' this evening, and handed you your papers. From what you can gather, everybody entering the New World is assigned a role. This ranges from the mundane (cooking, building or cleaning) to the extreme (exploring, charting and purging). Your papers contain everything there is to know about you. Your race, your occupation, eye colour, hair colour, birth date and a few other minor details along with a magical imprint of your face etched into the parchment.

The noise and smell is what you notice most about this place. Although you can still hear each other speak, you do have to raise your voice considerably to get your words to travel. Your journeys were all different, and you did not come across the Rift together, but here you all are, sat in this cramped cell, put together for a reason unknown to you all but will become apparent shortly.

(Take this time to introduce your characters. It will be a few hours until Minister Trask arrives to collect you for assignment. If you have any questions about anything please let me know. Everything written in the campaign page is what is commonly known amongst new-comers to the New World).

Ability scores: 15 12 14 11 5 8

(I wasn’t sure if I should edit my original post for reroll but hopefully I can get better one this time XD)

Vostaria sits primly on the edge of one of the lower bunks. She sweeps a stray piece of straw from her robes and straightens the wrinkle it creates. Her hands return to her lap as she studies each of her cell mates. She seems inordinately pleased to be here, crammed into this tiny space. Her eyes are calculating as she studies the human, gnome, half-elf, war-forged, and dwarf each in turn, as if making mental notes on each one. But she does not speak or otherwise engage any of her cell mates.

Dorstaer lays on is back on one of the top bunks, utterly bored and wondering how on earth he ended up in this cell.  When his patron called for him to head to the new world, days spent in a holding cell was definitely NOT what he had in mind.

Ellayne sits and checks on her longbow. Pulling a string a little bit and practicing the posture while she sits on one of the lower bunks. Her mismatched eyes, blue on the left and purple on the right, gaze firmly at her weapon before she put it down on her side. After receiving a call that she will be assigned to go to the New World, part of her was excited, but she couldn't think of what would happen after visiting. Once she escaped her deep thought, she looks around the cellmates curiously, but it seems a bit harder for her to speak out loud for a moment.

Wander sits quietly on the bed he had been assigned, his inorganic features giving nothing away. If one knew of monastic traditions they would be able to see that he was meditating, his quarterstaff carefully balanced on his lap. Other then a basic pair of pants the warforged wore little else as he did not have the need to worry about being hot or cold unless it was in truly extreme conditions.

Vostaria finally breaks the uncomfortably long silence. "No, this won't do at all. I cannot have been placed with the only 5...others that do not speak common. You all must be more interesting than this. I refuse to believe otherwise."

As everyone stares at her in continued silence, she draws a deep breath. "Very well," she says. "I am Vostaria. I am a...naturalist, studying the creatures that have translocated to this new place and how they are adapting. If I might ask, what brings the rest of you here?"

Ellayne gazes at the woman as soon as she hears the words. A small smile appears on her lips as her mismatched eyes fixate on Vostaria. "I am Ellayne Wisefire. Just a ranger... with a longbow and arrows." A pause as her gaze shifts back to the longbow that places right beside of her. "After leaving from my family, I decided to take an adventure that is unusual. I want to explore more in the New World as a challenge... It is a bit rubbish reason." Then she chuckles awkwardly.

Rolling over as Vostaria breaks the silence, Dorstaer looks at the woman. After ellayne finishes her own introduction, Dorstaer, hoping to get a rise out of Vostaria, says to her in gnomish, “And why would anyone want to speak common?  It’s a terribly boring language.”

Metal clangs against metal further toward Rift-Hall, the entrance from the Rift. A group of mostly Elven guards makes it's way down the hallway, dropping off the meal for the day to the holding pens. They are making their way toward your cell pushing a large iron cart along. The stench of the cells is suddenly replaced with the smell of freshly cooked lamb. The Elves seem friendly to those they hand the meals to, smiling and chatting for a few seconds before moving further down toward your cell.

"Good afternoon, friends. Here you are, a fresh meal. I hear you are next to get out of this place? We are very sorry for the conditions."

The Elf, tall and well mannered, places a tray with six plates through a gap in the bars, along with a bottle of wine and six tankards. the vegetables surrounding the lamb are piping hot, with potatoes covered in a creamy butter.

For most of his time spent in the holding pen, the young gnome has been sitting on the bottom bed of his straw bunk, cross-legged, scribbling away in a leatherbound notebook, pausing occasionally only to dip his quill into the inkwell stowed between his legs. He has kept to himself for the most part -- strange behavior for a gnome -- happy to watch the cell's occupants go about their own business. Occasionally he has sidled up next to someone and asked them a few questions, a loose and friendly smile upon his face, only to return to his notebook after he received an answer.

While the gnome's three-foot-two stature fits that of his race, the rest of his appearance does not. Beneath his wide-brimmed tan hat is a cleanly-shaven, ruddy face that accompanies his blue eyes. If it weren't for his slender physique, he could easily be mistaken for a halfling just by the the clothes he wears; there's no gnomish lace, no nature-themed embroideries, no straps-and-buckles that serve a purely aesthetic purpose. He wears a simple off-white button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone and tufts of brown chest hair sticking out of the gap, a thin pair of khaki-colored pants with a row of small pockets sewn down the side of each leg, and plain brown loose-fitting shoes.

When Vostaria and Ellayne speak up, he caps his inkwell and wipes his quill dry on a small cloth he procures from between his criss-crossed legs, then he puts the writing gear on the bed beside him.

"Well, now, this environment is not exactly conducive to social discourse," he says loudly, over the noise of the holding cell room. His friendly voice is rapid, tinkly, and bubbly, like a mountain stream racing down a steep slope. "Myself, I'm simply afraid of opening my mouth on the incidental chance that I might actually taste whatever it is creating this wholly reprehensible smell!"

His smile widens. "Jebben Carmenfolly Knickelwort is my given name, but most of my companions in the past, the recent past -- at the college I mean -- call me Tipplewhiskers." He rubs his bare face with his hand. "It's a bit of subjective humor, I'm afraid, but it does have poetic flair to it, it's most certainly less mundane than simply 'Jebben,' and it's not so stuffy as 'Mister Knickelwort.'"

He jumps down off the bunk, and walks to the middle of the room. There he stops, places his hand to his waist, and bows deeply to both Vostaria and Ellayne. "Nice to meet you ladies!" he says.

"My reasons for this journey seem to share elements with both of yours. I have been one of two selected by Upon the Worldly Stage -- that's my bardic college of archival, you see -- to study The New World and put the subject to parchment. I prefer long-form plays, myself, on account of the fact they are much more apposite for documenting the details of my own area of study and expertise: people. But each bard at the Stage is given the liberty of creative expression they think best befits their own area of study."

Jebben pauses very briefly for what you judge to be his first breath since he began speaking.

"'Because Encyclopedias are Bloody Boring,'" he says with a grin, "that's the college's motto, at least in its unofficial, colloquial version."