Question Of The Day: Is it good that D&D is the go to TTRPG for newcomers to the hobby? Do D&D's flaws make it a bad first choice? Are other systems better suited in your opinion for first timers? Or is it the perfect first timer system? (Making the assumption that they play the standard 2014 edition, not that "one D&D" is even that different)
Why D&D is the closest to the good choice for TTRPGs.
First of all, D&D (5e) is probably the most popular and well known TTRPG to the "general public." So when they think of playing - what's probably generated their interest is seeing something D&D related (whether it's someone on Youtube, some famous person who spoke of it, or the movie, or how there's a whole D&D thing at Universal Studios) - without a doubt, someone brand new to TTRPGs is having their interest generated by something specific to D&D. (Obviously, edge cases like an older brother/sister/family member introducing someone to some other gaming system - but this is why I said the general public).
The plus side, D&D has a ton of books and modules and resources to pull from. So someone looking to play D&D, if they know someone who can run it, there's both a ton of Race and Class options to choose from. So the world feels like it's something that you can play with very little limit to your imagination.
But is it perfect? Probably not. But no gaming system is really. Someone is always going to find something wrong or to complain about.
Been wanting to run the Lord of the Rings 5e (got all the physical books) but all my current games I run are knee deep in normal D&D - so I gathered 4 players on Discord, and we're doing a play by post. So every Monday, I summarize what happened, and create the next post for players to react to.
Here's the first session I wrote - that basically brings the players together.
Session 01: The Summons.
October 29, 2965 of the Third Age …
On a hill, was a former watch tower, long destroyed, leaving behind a circle of rubble, a place known as Weathetop. It frequently rained here, so it was nasty, dirty and wet.
Maethordan, a human Ranger of the North, was posted here, along with several other Rangers, including his Captain, a fellow Ranger of the North named Strider. The people of the land often viewed the Rangers of the North with a mixture of suspicion – and considered them “dangerous” due to their lifestyle and tendency to operate in the shadows. Rangers of the North rarely kept much company, but would often have allies.
One such ally was here at Weathertop now – an unusual man that Maethordan had seen a number of times, especially in the company of Strider. An old man that everyone seemed to know – perhaps more mysterious than the Rangers of the North – a man, a wizard they say, named Gandalf.
His expression was grim as he spoke to Strider in hushed tones. Maethordan, and three other Rangers of the North, patrolled around Weathertop as Strider and Gandalf spoke.
“Well,” Gandalf finally said his demeanor much more different now, his voice cheerful. “I must be going, as always, a pleasure to speak with you, Strider.”
As Gandalf departed from the top of Weathertop, he patted Maethordan on the shoulder and seemed to wink at him. Maethordan watched Gandalf descend down Weathertop – not an easy journey, even for someone who has traversed up and down Weathertop many times – but Gandalf, despite his old age and relying heavily on his wooden staff, seemed to effortlessly descend down Weathertop as if it were a perfectly maintained path.
Strider’s voice broke Maethordan’s thoughts, as he turned to face his Captain. “Halldor, I need you to go to Staddle and keep a watch on the surrounding area. Sigurd, venture to Combe, and do the same. Hergrim, go with Sigurd to Combe, but continue north to Archet.” He paused and Maethordan looked at Strider expectantly. Strider approached Maethordan and placed his hand on his shoulder. “I have a special mission for you, Maethordan. I need you to go to Bree, to the Prancing Pony. There, Gandalf has sent notes for several others to gather there. You are to escort them here.”
Maethordan sighed. He did not care for venturing into Bree. Civilized life was not for him. “How will I know them?”
“Look for a barding and two people of Bree, hopefully seated with one another if Barliman Butterbur remembered what Gandalf told him,” Strider said. Strider and Maethordan watched as Halldor, Sigurd and Hergrim departed, before Strider turned back to Maethordan. “Gandalf warns me that his travel from Rivendell to here was troubling. He mentioned that in the South Downs, a great many howls that made him feel queer, were heard at all hours of the night. These were not wolf howls he heard, he assures me – it was something darker, more sinister. Beware taking the road from Bree to here as well, as it may also be lined with trouble. We have seen ruffians waiting for merchants on these roads of late, looking to ambush the unwary. With the news Gandalf shared with me, I can’t help but wonder if the ruffian’s brazen courage is connected to the dark howls that Gandalf reports in the South Downs. While you may be skilled at moving stealthily, those that you are to bring with you may not be so skilled. You must use caution traveling back here.”
Maethordan nodded, turned and begin to pack his few belongings into his bag, before turning to face Strider. “I will not fail you, or Gandalf,” he said firmly.
“I know you won’t,” Strider said, with a strained smile.
Maethordan descended down Weathertop and decided to move through the Weather Hills, then into the Midgewater Marshes, where he avoided goblins, serpents and spiders, though his movement was drastically slowed due to the terrain and caution. It had taken nearly seven days before he arrived at the gates of Bree. The Gate-Keeper slid open the slot to peer outside.
“Who goes there?” the gate keeper called.
Maethordan could tell, by the voice that it had not been Harry Goatleaf, for which he was thankful. There’d always been something about Harry Goatleaf that bothered Maethordan, but he could never place just what it was.
“My name is Maethordan, and I seek a room at the Prancing Pony on this rainy night, gate-keeper,” he replied.
The gate-keeper opened the door and gasped as Maethordan walked in. “You’re one of them…”
“Yes,” Maethordan said plainly, “and here are three copper coins to keep that quiet, Master Gate-Keeper.”
October 15, 2965 of the Third Age …
Inside the shattered, grey tower of Mith Tirin, Lodin, son of Brodin, sat before the crackling fire. He poked and prodded at the flame, sending small flecks of ash into the air that burned out quickly. The fire did little to warm his bones on this dreary day. Mith Tirin was a tower that once stood between Gramsfoot and Gabilshathûr.
Lodin had traveled North from Lake Town to Dale, where he had rested for several days. From there, he’d spent weeks traveling North East, before reaching Skarháld, where he spent several nights in the company of dwarves. It was there he first heard about news of increased attacks by goblins in the area against the dwarves. In the three nights he’d spent there, the goblins had indeed made one attack against the dwarves, and Lodin had been there to help fend off the attack. From there, he traveled East with several dwarven merchants who were headed for Annâk-khurfu. The dwarves shared stories of their skills at the forge, while Lodin shared some of the story of his past, and his desire to one day find a worthy foe, such as a dragon, to destroy, similar to how Bard had done. From there, he traveled North to Grúmachath, where yet again, he would spend time in the company of Dwarves. From there, the rest of his journey was far lonelier, as he passed through the Iron Pass that cut between the Mountains of Angmar. Had it not been for his trusty mare, Dolly, who was quite old, and had been in the family for many years, Lodin doubted he could have made it through the Iron Pass. Not that it was dangerous and he rode on Dolly to escape – hardly that at all. He never rode Dolly, really. She was more his one, true, faithful companion and friend, than she was a mount. No, it had been his journey through the Iron Pass, and how desolate and lonely it felt. The silence was pressing against him as he journeyed through there, he felt as he was being watched the entire time, and sleep was virtually impossible. He was thankful to have been out of the Iron Pass, and traveled for several days, before finding the abandoned tower of Mith Tirin to take shelter in from the rain that greeted him on the other side of the Iron Pass.
Dolly made a sound, and ran her hoof through the dirt. Lodin immediately leapt to his feet and drew his sword that was sheathed in Dolly’s saddle. The long sword flickered in the camp fire’s light; the tip of the blade was touching the grey hair of a human who had snuck up on him.
“Well,” the old man said, “hardly a kind way to treat an old friend, Lodin, son of Brodin.”
“Gandalf,” Lodin lowered the blade, “I should have known. No one else could have gotten this close to me, except for you. What are you doing here?”
“Me?” Gandalf looked confused for a moment, as if pondering the question. “Well, I suppose I am looking for a warm fire to heat these old bones of mine,” he finally answered, “and to speak with you, of course.”
“Me?” Lodin asked, as he sheathed his blade. “What do you want with me?”
“The very thing you pointed at me,” Gandalf laughed as he sat by the fire, sitting exactly where Lodin had originally been sitting. Gandalf poked at the fire. “Your sword arm is what I need, son of Brodin. As it would turn out, I have some friends who are gathering in Bree, and they could use someone capable with a blade.” Gandalf smiled, “You carry more than your grandfather’s name, Lodin,” he said, more quietly. “The crest you carry close to your heart, speaks to you of the great deeds your own grandfather did.”
“You knew him,” Lordin asked, unconsciously touching his chest, where he had indeed, hid the crest of his family – a small unicorn.
“Everyone knew him,” Gandalf responded with a smile. “He was wild. Adventurous. He did a great many things, he did, with the time he was given. And now, here you are, in Mith Tirin, with the family steed,” he looked over at the mare, “Hello, Dolly, it’s good to see you, too.” The mare seemed to share her head and nod, her beautiful mane falling to one side, as if she were shy of Gandalf’s comment. “She’s like the crest you know,” Gandalf added. “There’s none like her – she is unique, I dare say; loyal and strong beyond most mares her age. It’s no coincidence that she is with you on this journey. I suspect she will be quite important in the days ahead.”
“I haven’t even agreed to this, but you speak as if I have,” Lodin replied.
Gandalf looked at Dolly, who then looked at Lodin. “You can not possibly be on his side,” Lodin sighed deeply, looking at Dolly. She made a sound in response and ran her hoof through the sand. Lodin turned to look at Gandalf, “Fine. You mentioned your friends are in Bree? How will I know them?”
“Go to Bree and seek out the Prancing Pony Inn,” Gandalf replied. “Barliman Butterbur is the owner. Speak with him. He will have rooms ready for all of you. He will ensure you meet with the others.”
“How many in this company?” Lodin asked.
“With you, four,” Gandalf replied. Dolly made a sound. “Sorry, five, including Dolly.” Dolly seemed much happier now. Gandalf laughed.
The following morning, just as both Dolly and Lodin expected, Gandalf was gone.
October 21, 2965 of the Third Age …
Hobart Rushlight slumped into his chair which he’d built with his own hands. Hobart Rushlight lived in a small, unremarkable cabin in the forested area of Chetwood, east of Bree. He had barely returned from delivering notices in Bree to people who had been cordially invited to the birthday of one Bilbo Baggins. Bilbo is a vigorous Hobbit—at seventy-five he is very much the same as he was at fifty, and he was looking forward to another party. Turning seventy five was quite an ordeal, and Hobart had been from Chetwood, to Bree, to the Shire, delivering invites to those who were welcome to Bilbo Baggin’s birthday party.
Hobart Rushlight was beyond exhausted and all he had wanted to do now was go to sleep. Just as his eyes finally began to close, he heard a man’s voice. “Quite an ordeal that Bilbo Baggins with his birthday is it not?”
Hobart Rushlight sat up and reached for his sword. He was surprised to see an old man standing in his doorway – an old man he’d recognized. “Gandalf,” Hobart Rushlight grumbled and collapsed back into his chair. “If you’re looking for your invitation, it’s with Barliman Butterbur at the Prancing Pony. Bilbo figured you stop by there frequently enough, that that would probably be the best place in order for the invitation to find you. Now, if you would be on your way, I am rather exhausted from all of my travels.”
“What if I told you I was in need of your service, Hobart Rushlight?” Gandalf asked.
“I would tell you that any letters or messages you need to be delivered are going to need a wait a day or two or find another messenger to deliver them,” Hobart Rushlight replied, matter-of-factly.
“It’s not your ability to deliver messages I am need of,” Gandalf countered, as he leaned against his staff, then nudged Hobart Rushlight’s foot to awaken him. “It’s your other… more… refined skills.”
Hobart Rushlight opened one eye to look at the grey wizard. “What does that mean?”
Gandalf smiled, “You are quite like Master Baggins,” Gandalf said, frankly. “You are quick on your feet and have a knack for opening locked doors and the like.”
“I am not a thief if that’s what you’re implying,” Hobart Rushlight countered.
“No such thing,” Gandalf pulled himself upright. “Only that, I have some friends gathering at the Prancing Pony, and where they’re going, they may need someone like you who can move quietly around and look around, and perhaps open doors that may not be open to them. All on the up and up, as it were, Master Rushlight.”
“You only ever call me ‘Master Rushlight’ when you want something of me,” Hobart laughed. “If I agree to this meeting at the Prancing Pony with these friends of yours, will you let me get some rest.”
“Indeed,” Gandalf said as if it were obvious.
“Fine, then I agree,” and Hobart Rushlight closed his eyes again, only to be hit by Gandalf’s staff once more. “You said you’d let me rest.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean now,” Gandalf laughed. “I mean when you reaching the Prancing Pony. I’ve already spoken to Barliman Butterbur – thank you for dropping off my invite to Master Baggin’s party there, he’d almost forgotten to give it to me – at any rate, I spoke to Barliman Butterbur – and arranged for you and the others to have rooms at the Prancing Pony. Speak to Barliman Butterbur when you get there, he will get you in contact with the others.”
Hobart Rushlight heaved a deep sigh and stood up and began to prepare his belongings to head for Bree and the Prancing Pony.
October 25, 2965 of the Third Age …
Fay Foxglow was gathering the last bit of supplies from her apothecary that she’d opened a few years ago, in honor of her grandfather. The bell that hung by the front door rang and caught Fay by surprise – she’d locked the front door – how had it opened? In the doorway, she immediately knew her answer. “Gandalf,” she said her heart no longer about to leap from her chest. “What are you doing here?”
“Why, looking for you, of course,” he replied, as if it had been obvious. “That’s why I came inside.”
“The door was locked,” Fay countered.
“Was it?” Gandalf looked over his shoulder at the door. “You should probably get that looked at.”
Fay was about to say something else, knowing that Gandalf himself had somehow “magic’ed” his way through the locking mechanism. She stopped what she was doing and looked up. “What can I do for you?”
“Do for me?” Gandalf smiled. “What can I do for you?” he asked.
“Well, for starters, you could stop coming in through locked doors,” she laughed. She was well aware of who Gandalf was. He was quite well known throughout Bree – he often brought fireworks and livened up any celebration that took place in the town’s center.
“It looks like you’re going somewhere,” he gestured to her bag that she had been putting in some of the plants she had wanted to take with her on the road. “Good, you must have gotten my message already then?”
“Your message?” Fay looked confused. “I have received no message from you.”
“Then why are you packing, daughter of Edwin?” he asked, seemingly confused.
“Because there’s nothing more for me here,” she shrugged, and continued packing her bag. “Mother is gone. Father was slain by an orc. Grandfather passed the same way as mother. My friend has gone missing.” She looked up and shrugged, “There is nothing for me in Bree save for sad memories. I am going to leave, perhaps return south, to where grandfather sometimes spoke of.”
Gandalf smiled and leaned heavily on his staff, as if he had suddenly aged, “Hirluin,” he said, recalling the name of Fay’s grandfather. “I do miss him.”
“You knew him?” Fay asked.
“Oh yes,” Gandalf’s expression lit up. “I definitely knew him. Traveled together we did for a short while. He was quite knowledgeable about plants of all kinds.” He tapped Fay’s bag with his staff, “I see he parted that knowledge upon you. And your mother, dear Hayley, she would be proud of your sewn work. I see it in your clothing. I see her weaves through what you have done to patch your own clothing, and make that cloak you wear. And the blanket, you have there – the one you’re taking with you. Looks to have been started by her, but has your finishing touches on it.”
Fay pulled her blanket close to her. “How could you know that?”
“Child, I knew your mother and father, and your grandfather quite well,” he said, heaving a deep sigh, momentarily lost in the memories. “She sewed more than a torn bit or two in these old, grey robes I wear. Her needlework is quite well known and was sought after when she was still with us.” Gandalf shook his head and cleared his mind of the memories and firmly planted his staff on the ground. “Well, if you didn’t get my message and you’re leaving – where do you plan to go? Just south?”
“For beginners,” Fay shrugged.
“What if I asked you to join my companions? On a little adventure? They could undoubtedly use your knowledge of plants, and probably needlework as well,” he smiled. “Perhaps on this journey, you might discover some answers you didn’t know you were looking for?”
“Who are these companions of yours?” Fay asked.
“One of them, you know – or at least know of him. Hobart Rushlight, born in Bree, lives out in Chetwood,” Gandalf explained. She nodded her head – she had met Hobart a few times when he was passing through Bree and stopped at the Prancing Pony. They’d shared some drinks and laughs together. “Another is a barding who has come a great way named Lodin. Together, you will meet with a Ranger of the North by the name of Maethordan. He will escort all of you to Weathertop.”
“What waits for us at Weather top?” Fay asked, confused. Weathertop was a ruined watch tower that had fallen into disarray.
“Ideally, I will meet you there, after I tend to some other business. If I am not there, you will speak with Strider,” Gandalf explained.
Fay shoved her blanket into her bag and nodded. “I’m interested.”
“Oh, good,” Gandalf said and reached into his pocket. “Ah, there’s the summons! This time I can’t blame Barliman Butterbur, I forgot to give it to Hobart to deliver to you. Here,” he handed the summons to her. She opened the letter and read it, “Meet at the Prancing Pony on November 5, 2965.”
When Fay looked up from the note, Gandalf was gone and the door was once again locked. She folded the note and shook her head.
November 5, 2965…
Maethordan moved through the bustling streets of Bree and arrived at the Prancing Pony. Inside the Prancing Pony, people were moving about, drinking, singing, sharing stories of this and that, and not a single person stopped to look at Maethordan.
Maethordan moved through the crowd and spotted Barliman Butterbur. He placed his hand on Barliman Butterbur to stop the rotund man from moving; despite his size, he moved with a quickness inside the Prancing Pony.
“Oh!” Barliman Butterbur let out a squeal of surprise. “You startled me, sir. What can I do for you?”
“Gandalf told me to speak with you, about meeting some people here,” Maethordan answered.
“Meeting people here?” Barliman Butterbur gave it some thought. Then he thought about it more. Then he thought about how Gandalf might turn him into a newt if he didn’t remember what was asked of him. Then he thought about what his life would be like a newt. Then he wondered if Nob could possibly run the Prancing Pony? His mind screamed in horror and brought him back to the real world. “Oh, yes!” He finally said, “I do remember! I do remember! They’re over there, by the fire place.”
Maethordan turned to see a barding, and two people of Bree – a man and a woman – sitting at a table – looking at one another.
Everyone go ahead and describe what your character looks like, what they might be doing (eating, drinking, etc).
I gathered everyone's replies, and their dialogue with one another, and when one of the players left with an NPC, had everyone roll perception checks, and took all of that to make...
Session Two: Familiar Faces, Troubled Times
November 5, 2965…
As Maethordan moved through the bustling streets of Bree, the people of Bree glanced at him suspiciously – but he kept his focus forward and arrived at the Prancing Pony without more than people whispering and pointing as he strode past them.
Inside the Prancing Pony it was very different; people were moving about, drinking, singing, sharing stories of this and that, and not a single person stopped to look at Maethordan.
Maethordan moved through the crowd and spotted Barliman Butterbur. He placed his hand on Barliman Butterbur to stop the rotund man from moving; despite his size, he moved with a quickness inside the Prancing Pony.
“Oh!” Barliman Butterbur let out a squeal of surprise, though through some uncanny means, spilled neither drink that was in his hands, destined for a nearby table. “You startled me, sir. What can I do for you?”
“Gandalf told me to speak with you, about meeting some people here,” Maethordan answered in hushed tones.
“Meeting people here?” Barliman Butterbur gave it some thought. Then he thought about it more. Then he thought about how Gandalf might turn him into a newt if he didn’t remember what was asked of him. Then he thought about what his life would be like a newt. Then he wondered if Nob could possibly run the Prancing Pony? His mind screamed in horror and brought him back to the real world. “Oh, yes!” He finally said, “I do remember! I do remember! They’re over there, by the fireplace.”
Maethordan turned to see a barding, and two people of Bree – a man and a woman – sitting at a table – looking at one another.
The barding, Maethordan noted, though sitting, he guessed stood five foot ten, which was decently tall for a Barding. The barding’s dark hair and tanned skin indicated that he had seen plenty of time on the road, despite his well-kept leather shirt and some common looking pants. Maethordan’s eyes were drawn to the Barding gaze which seemed focused on a hole near his left knee.
Which meant the other one was the Man of Bree – the messenger – that Gandalf had mentioned in the note. The note mentioned how this Messenger was known for his stealth – but from here, he now wondered if perhaps the wrong person was seated at the table next to the Barding. This man of Bree was anything but quiet, as his jovial voice called out to the woman next to him, “Ah, lady Foxglow! We meet again!” Hobart clinked glasses, beer from his pint spilled and splashed all over himself. “Oopsie-daisy!”
He stood and pulled a rag from his shirt to pat himself dry, then offered it to the strange-haired Bree woman next to him, who Maethordan assumed to be seamstress.
The woman blanched at the offer of the damp rag as Hobart shoved it back into his shirt and sat down again. “It is nice to see you, Master Rushlight,” she muttered over her tea, just loud enough to be heard if he was trying to listen.
Hobart had long blonde hair matched with an equally long blonde mustache, short dirty beard, and slightly unsettling chest hair which is somehow always visible no matter what outfit he was wearing.
The Messenger was a loud man, which Maethordan considered to be a problem on the road, but he was also very cheerful. So long as the man’s loud mouth did not endanger them, his positivity in this darkening world could be much needed.
The Bree-Woman looked like no other Bree-Woman, which made Maethordan suspect that she was not native to Bree. With her hair pulled back and held with a blue ribbon, she held her cup of tea between her hands, pressed to her lips as her equally blue eyes studied the stranger who had just come in - Barliman Butterbur had just pointed the man in this direction, which probably meant that this was the Ranger of the North that would soon be escorting them to Weathertop.
Fay looked at Lodin, “I think that’s him. The one that will take us where we need to go.”
That’s when she took notice that Lodin seemed focused on the tear on his pants on his left knee and she considered if it would be wrong to charge her companions for her work, the amount of which would be extensive by the looks of it. She was glad, as her hand went unconsciously to her handbag at her side, that she’d brought extra thread.
Though she’d been quite forward with Gandalf – there was something about him that always pulled that out of her – she was soft spoken, and she is quite certain that no one other than Teelia, the waitress, had heard her order her tea. Even then, there was a small chance it was more from familiarity that Teelia had known she ordered a tea. Teelia had known of Fay, but did not know her – they had both attended the classes that Anna Wintermoss taught, at the same time, but never spoke. Teelia had made several attempts to speak with Fay, but Fay always withdrew from her. Now Teelia and Fay exchanged pleasant hellos but never spoke more than that when they passed one another in Bree.
Fay wore a black cloak with fine silver work embroidered along the edge, the cloak itself in good condition despite being well used as an advertisement of her handywork, should the apothecary business be running slow.
Maethordan approached the table where three travelers sat. The clothes he wore were simple but made of good quality, dark and sturdy material which was old and had been patched multiple times. The patches on his clothes were of dark leather and are well secured with simple stitching. He carried a sheathed sword with a bow and shield on his back. Hide armor poked out from beneath his flowing cloak.
Despite time on the road, a young, handsome face could barely be made out from underneath the hood. Bright, emerald-green eyes surveyed all around and eventually focused on the group. A few stray unkempt black hairs hung down from beside the face and out of the hood. He stopped by the table and leaned in and whispered just loud enough for you all to hear, "Are you three here at the request of Gandalf the Grey?"
Without further preamble the hooded man pulled up a stool and sat as he leaned in again and whispered, "Will you be ready to move in the morning? We still have a way to go."
Fay looked up at the newcomer to the table, “Greetings,” she said softly as he joined them.
Hobart stood and greeted the Ranger loudly as he firmly shook with both hands. Hobart was 33 years old, but all his days in the sun made him look as if he might be 40, or even older.
Lodin looked at his pants and then back at Maethordan. "I'll need a change of clothes, if we are to leave early.”
Fay looked at Lodin, then back to the Ranger, who had not yet given his name, "Do you know why Gandalf has requested our assistance? It seems you have some knowledge of where we are going."
Leaning in again the young man admitted, "To be honest I do not know. All I know is that I am to take you to Weathertop Sorry, I have been remiss and not given my name, it is Maethordan."
“ I'll go talk to Butterbur,” Lodin said and stood up and walked away with purpose, looking for the proprietor.
As Lodin walked through the Prancing Pony, he could hear a local musician in the corner, singing songs of dragons and flame, and Lodin paused for a moment – the word “dragon” catching his ear. He listened to the musician for a moment, the song seemed to be a variation of the story of the Hobbit, Bilbo Baggin’s encounter with Smaug, the dreaded dragon. Lodin yearned for that – to find a dragon – and face off against it, to be worthy of the name and heritage he bore.
That’s when he saw Barliman Butterbur, as he was speaking to several people seated around a table. He turned to leave that table and gave a small squeal of surprise. "Master Lodin!" He looked around and saw that Lodin needed to seek him out. "Do you need another mead? I can send Teelia over immediately to deliver a drink if that's what you should need!"
Lodin gestured downward with his hands and said, "No, no, my good sir. My new companion seems eager to leave as soon as possible, and my clothes are in an unsightly state of disrepair. As it is past time for the local shops to open, I wonder if you have any travel clothes I could purchase so as not to be a burden on my new companions?"
Barliman Butterbur looked around the busy tavern. The candle lights flickered, casting shadows throughout the room as Barliman Butterbur's eyes strained to see through the smoke and haze of the room.
"Where is that blasted hobbit," he muttered aloud, though he'd clearly not meant for the words to be heard. "Ah, there he is! Nob," he shouted, "Nob, come here for a moment!"
A young hobbit quickly moved with ease through the crowd. His brown eyes were sharp, but his brown, earthly colored hair was disheveled. "Nob," Barliman Butterbur said, with a ton of affection, much different than he'd sounded a moment ago. It was clear that Barliman Butterbur, despite his external appearance, clearly suffered from stress very easily, internally. "Nob," he repeated, "see if you can't find Master Ellwin. He was here not too long ago. Master Lodin is in need of some traveling clothes, and Master Ellwin often had spare clothes he'd made."
Nob, without saying a word - leaving Lodin perhaps wondering if the hobbit was capable of speaking - quickly dashed away into the crowd - and before Lodin realized what was happening, returned with a tall human. "Lodin, I presume," the human extended his hand. "The name is Ellwin Greenland. I understand you're in need of some travel clothes?" He looked Lodin up and down, "You're a big fellow, with those arms, but I do believe I have some spare clothes I could offer you. Barliman Butterbur tells me you are friends of Master Gandalf. I will bill him for the clothes," he smiled. "Come with me to my shop and I can get that for you."
Back at the table, Fay cleared her throat, "My name is Fay Foxglow. I am an apothecary and scholar, at least of sorts." Finishing her introduction, her hand moved to her mouth, and she started to chew on her thumbnail while looking Maethordan over.
"Are you a Ranger? One of the men that live in the wilderness around Bree? You dress as one."
Fay studied Maethordan for another moment then looked back to the man talking with Lodin, "Ellwin is not a foe, he is a good man."
“Well, if we’re leaving soon, I would like my stomach full,” Hobart said and stood. He looked around the crowded tavern for Teelia, who had been their server. Unintentionally, Hobart obscured Fay’s view of what was happening – but Hobart saw it. Though Hobart spent most of his time on the road and little time in Bree, he’d been in town enough times to recognize trouble. As he was looking for Teelia, Fred and Harry Stoneacre , twin boys who grew up in trouble, more often than not. Hobart followed them and noted that the Ranger had already spotted them as well, gesturing that he too believed these two had ill intentions as they seemed to follow Lodin and Ellwin out the door.
As Lodin and Ellwin exited the Prancing Pony, going down the small flight of stairs, Ellwin turned to Lodin, “So where does he have you going, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I don’t mind you asking,” Lodin began, “but I am afraid I can not say.”
“Gandalf,” Ellwin laughed, “always a mystery with that one and his companions.”
Stepping out of the shadows, a human emerged, the moonlight gleaming off the blade of a small dagger. “You’re a stranger here,” the man’s voice slurred the words. “We don’t welcome strangers here in Bree. I saw you sitting with the witch, Fay. She’s not normal either. Not from here. I bet she killed her mother and grandfather, and Anna, her friend, disappeared. Too coincidental if you ask me,” the man’s words were running into one another. “I saw your horse, stranger. You can leave that here. I will take it. But you need to go. And go tonight.”
Ellwin raised his hands. The man, stumbling out of the shadows was none other than Lenny Appleton, a local boy who found himself on the wrong side of the law, and now frequently kept company with questionable ruffians. He would be far more dangerous if he wasn’t usually drunk. Lenny was thin and lanky, his arms almost nothing more than bones, but despite his weaving due to his intoxication, he seemed to move like a serpent. His brown hair was unkempt and his hazel eyes lacked focus. His red shirt was tattered and stained, his grey leather pants riddled with holes and patches.
The door to the Prancing Pony opened, and out stepped Fred and Harry Stoneacre. The twins looked exactly alike and dressed exactly alike – their blond hair was long, both with long beards. The only way to tell them apart was Fred had a scar over his right eye. The story goes that Harry tried to give himself a matching scar, simply because his twin had one, but the scar never kept.
Ellwin shook his head, “Don’t do this, boys.”
“If the man leaves and takes the witch with him, and leaves the horse, everything will end just fine and no one gets hurt tonight,” Lenny managed to get the words out. He leaned against the wall as the world seemed to dip and sway around him.
“Listen to Lenny,” Fred said, brandishing a dagger.
“We don’t want trouble,” Harry added, “we just want the horse.”
If you don’t know where I am, I’m either sleeping or roleplaying. If I’m doing neither of those things, except the worst. (Do not actually expect the worst) If you need to talk then PM me. Head Acolyte of The Tree Cult.
Session Three: Drunkards and Ruffians, Horsing Around NOTE: One of my players reminded me, I had the wrong Prancing Pony name in here - so I corrected it with this session.
November 5, 2965…
Inside the Prancing Pony, Maethordan watched as two men, who looked to be twins, stood up and seemed to quickly follow after Lodin and the other man with Lodin – the one Fay called Ellwin. His gaze followed the twins as they went out the front door, clearly following Lodin.
Maethordan turned the table and said in a harsh rasp, "Lodin is on trouble," but even before he had finished, he was already quickly moving through the bustling inn, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Fay watched as the all too familiar twin brothers of Fred and Harry Stoneacre walked behind Maethordan, a look of deep, determination their eyes that burned with darkness. Setting down her cup, Fay made her way to where Butterbur had been standing; taking what seemed to be an order of another few pints. “Begging your pardon, Barnabas,” she said, tapping him on the shoulder, her voice for once louder and more confident, “I believe my – and Gandalf’s – friends may be being ambushed by the stables of the Prancing Pony,” she gestured where Lodin and Ellwin had exited, followed by the twin brothers. “More than likely – between the three of them – they can handle whatever the twin brothers may be up to. We may need to get the Bree Wardens here, though,” she shrugged, “in case things get out of hand. Perhaps you can send someone to go get the Bree Wardens? You could come with me as a witness. After all, we know that the twins have a father of some influence here in Bree. And,” she leaned close, “this may involve the Broken Hand.”
Barnabas nearly dropped his half-empty mug in his hand at the mention of the Broken Hand. The Broken Hand was an organization of Ruffians that most were unaware of in Bree; but more than enough of them had come to the Prancing Pony, much to Barnabas’ dismay, and often spoke of business, boldly discussing their distaste of the Bree Wardens and how “one day they would change things around here.” Barnabas often chased them away, but some of them, like the twins, had – as Fay had mentioned – family of influence here in Bree – and keeping them out was often a difficult task.
Barnabas called out, “Teelia!” He gestured to the young, redheaded waitress. “Be a dear,” he whispered, “and fetch Captain Percy Skyhawk. Let him know that someone has injured their hand at the Prancing Pony. He will know exactly what it means. Now, go girl, and go with a quickness.”
Barnabas looked to Fay and followed her as they headed for the door, his hand firmly gripping the mug in his hand, ready to crash it over someone’s head if he needed to.
While Fay had gone to talk to Barnabas, Hobart walked into the kitchen palming a pint glass in his right hand and reached into a burlap bag of salt with his left as he walked quickly and quietly out the back door, the chef watching as Hobart walked through his kitchen. Hobart descended down the side stairs and quickly walked up toward the scene, staring at what he grabbed – salt. “Assault,” he chuckled inwardly. “A-salt,” he whispered to himself. “Curses, where a hobbit when you need one? They would appreciate such a play on words.”
Hobart seemed to melt into the shadows as he quietly moved to the front of the Prancing Pony where he could hear Lodin speaking to someone – undoubtedly the twin ruffians – and the exchange, while pleasant, was clearly tense…
Outside the Prancing Pony…
Stepping out of the shadows, a human emerged, the moonlight gleaming off the blade of a small dagger. “You’re a stranger here,” the man’s voice slurred the words. “We don’t welcome strangers here in Bree. I saw you sitting with the witch, Fay. She’s not normal either. Not from here. I bet she killed her mother and grandfather, and Anna, her friend, disappeared. Too coincidental if you ask me,” the man’s words were running into one another. “I saw your horse, stranger. You can leave that here. I will take it. But you need to go. And go tonight.”
Ellwin raised his hands. The man, stumbling out of the shadows was none other than Lenny Appleton, a local boy who found himself on the wrong side of the law, and now frequently kept company with questionable ruffians. He would be far more dangerous if he wasn’t usually drunk. Lenny was thin and lanky, his arms almost nothing more than bones, but despite his weaving due to his intoxication, he seemed to move like a serpent. His brown hair was unkempt and his hazel eyes lacked focus. His red shirt was tattered and stained, his grey leather pants riddled with holes and patches.
The door to the Prancing Pony opened, and out stepped Fred and Harry Stoneacre. The twins looked exactly alike and dressed exactly alike – their blond hair was long, both with long beards. The only way to tell them apart was Fred had a scar over his right eye. The story goes that Harry tried to give himself a matching scar, simply because his twin had one, but the scar never kept.
Ellwin shook his head, “Don’t do this, boys.”
“If the man leaves and takes the witch with him, and leaves the horse, everything will end just fine and no one gets hurt tonight,” Lenny managed to get the words out. He leaned against the wall as the world seemed to dip and sway around him.
“Listen to Lenny,” Fred said, brandishing a dagger.
“We don’t want trouble,” Harry added, “we just want the horse.”
Lodin shook his head, and yet still managed to smirk, as he placed himself between the three men and the tailor, Ellwin Greeland. “Now,” he said, raising his hands slight, “let’s suppose, just for a moment, I do as you ask. First, let me tell you, I will be leaving in the morning anyhow, so we’re of one mind there. However, horses are not mere beasts of burden and this one least of all.” Lodin smiled at the thought of these ruffians trying to get Dolly do what they wanted.
"That's just it," Lenny laughed, the odor of alcohol pouring out of his breath. "We need a strong horse like yours to get the wagon of weapons we have hidden."
"Shut up, Lenny," Fred growled. "If your horse doesn't cooperate then we down him and eat him for dinner. Go to the stable master and tell him you've sold your horse to us - then, we go take it - and we're gone. Won't see us again."
"Probably, won't see us," Harry snickered.
“Now you're crossing a line boys, a criminal conspiracy and worse, turning Dolly into a meal? You should learn to pick your marks better. She would be more likely to crush your head in your sleep than play nice with you. She is not dumb. What would be gained then?” Lodin shrugged, “Instead, I propose a better deal that leaves us all uninjured. We all go back inside,” he nodded with his head, “and I buy you a meal and a round of mead. Even with three of you, and me without my sword, I don't think that you could handle me."
“Oh, this one is feisty,” Harry nudged his twin brother, Fred.
With blinding speed, Lodin covered the distance between him and the drunkard Lenny, and with an elbow to Lenny’s chest to knock whatever wind the drunkard had in his lungs, Lodi was able to grab Lenny’s dagger and pull it from him. Lodin saw the door slowly opening behind the twins and caught the glint of steel against the moonlight that peered through the storming clouds.
Maethordan’s pulled himself up to his full height as he set the blade of his sword against the nape of Fred’s neck. “You know this will end very badly for you. My name is Maethordan, and I am a Ranger of the North. Leave now and you leave with your lives.”
Fred pressed himself against the blade enough so that it drew blood, as he glanced over his shoulder, “Ranger of the North. The trash of the land without a home,” he sneered as he raised his hands and still clutching his dagger firmly in his hand. “This is what happens when we don’t employ worthy Gate-Keepers. They let in people like him,” he nodded towards Lodin with his head, “and rubble like you, Ranger of the North. But it seems you have us at a disadvantage.”
Hobart was still in the shadows, watching, ready to spring into action. He was watching Harry, who of the two twin brothers, was perhaps the more maniacal and unpredictable one. Harry’s eyes were dashing between the Ranger behind them and Lodin in front of them, as if playing out multiple scenarios in his head, as to who this might play out. He giggled to himself slightly, perhaps pleased with how one of the bloody scenarios played out in his head.
He took a step forward as if he were about to leap at Lodin, and Hobart’s knees bent, ready to spring into action, like a serpent wound and ready to strike, when another voice, sternly called out, “I wouldn’t do that, Harry.”
Hobart remained in the shadows and peeked around the corner – it was someone he recognized, Captain Percy Skyhawk. Captain Percy Skyhawk was one of the Warden of Bree, and a good man. He had long blond hair, pulled into a pony tail and seemed to have a permanent stubble on his face. His blade was drawn and the rain that fell this night ran down the blade, allowing it to glisten each time the moon broke through the clouds, every so often.
“You wouldn’t be harassing these fine patrons of the Prancing Pony, now would you,” he asked.
“No, Captain,” Fred smirked. “Nothing like that. Just out here whittling some wood.”
“In the rain,” Captain Percy Skyhawk said flatly.
“When doesn’t it rain in Bree,” Fred retorted.
Captain Percy Skyhawk looked between Fred and Harry, “Go on, and take Lenny back home so he can sleep it off. I will have no more trouble from the three of you. I care not who your father is, if I need to, I will find a prison to throw the three of you in, so that you disappear forever.”
Harry and Fred made their way down the stairs, their gaze never leaving Maethordan. When the door opened and Fay and Barnabas stood there, Lenny suddenly shouted, “There she is!” he gestured, the slurred words falling out of his mouth. “The witch. She’s the one who vexes us all. She is the reason Bree has fallen on ill times. People around her die and vanish! Ask her! Ask her,” he shouted.
“You had best take him away quickly,” Captain Percy Skyhawk warned them, “before I made good of my promise.”
The twins dragged Lenny away, all the while, he continued to scream, “She’s a witch!” until his screams faded into the rainy night.
Percy looked, “Ellwin, good to see you. Stirring up trouble again, I see,” he jested.
Ellwin, who had not fled, refused to leave Lodin against three people, though he knew not what he would have done if a fight had erupted, laughed nervously, “Yes, well, you know me, Percy, one for trouble.”
Captain Percy Skyhawk shook his head, “My apologies. Those three of been trouble for quite some time. Barnabas, if they are in need of a room, I will cover it for the night,” Percy offered.
“Taken care of already, by Master Gandalf, sir,” Barnabas replied.
Even as the rain fell, Captain Percy Skyhawk’s eyes widened, “Ah, friends of Master Gandalf. No wonder those three were drawn to you. I love Master Gandalf, but the folks he calls friends, do tend to have the worse luck at staying out of trouble.” He coughed, “I will keep watch tonight around the inn and assure those three don’t return.” The party is free to speak to the Captain, or whatever, they’d like to do right now… Ellwin never fled, refusing to leave Lodin against three people, so he’s still standing there as well.
Fellowship Points: 4 (1 per player) + 2 (Gandalf) = 6 Fellowship Bonus: Gandalf You can spend a Fellowship point to roll an additional d20 after a saving throw (but before the outcome is determined), and choose which of the d20s is used.
Fellowship Points being used does require the party’s agreement. So if you feel a Savings Throw you made may fail, you will need to get the party’s agreement on using a Fellowship Point to allow the re-roll.
Eye Awareness: 2
Lodin, son of Brodin: Successful Athletics Check Maethordan: Successful Intimidation Check Hobart: Successful Stealth Check Fay: Successful Strange News From Bree
Anyone still come to this thread? Anyone? taps the mic.
Anyway, sharing my 4th session from the Lord of the Rings 5e...
Session 04: Threat of the Storm, The Traveling Begins
November 5, 2965…
Captain Percy Skyhawk looked between Fred and Harry, “Go on, and take Lenny back home so he can sleep it off. I will have no more trouble from the three of you. I care not who your father is, if I need to, I will find a prison to throw the three of you in, so that you disappear forever.”
Harry and Fred made their way down the stairs, their gaze never leaving Maethordan. When the door opened and Fay and Barnabas stood there, Lenny suddenly shouted, “There she is!” he gestured, the slurred words falling out of his mouth. “The witch. She’s the one who vexes us all. She is the reason Bree has fallen on ill times. People around her die and vanish! Ask her! Ask her,” he shouted.
“You had best take him away quickly,” Captain Percy Skyhawk warned them, “before I made good of my promise.”
The twins dragged Lenny away, all the while, he continued to scream, “She’s a witch!” until his screams faded into the rainy night.
Percy looked, “Ellwin, good to see you. Stirring up trouble again, I see,” he jested.
Ellwin, who had not fled, refused to leave Lodin against three people, though he knew not what he would have done if a fight had erupted, laughed nervously, “Yes, well, you know me, Percy, one for trouble.”
Captain Percy Skyhawk shook his head, “My apologies. Those three of been trouble for quite some time. Barnabas, if they are in need of a room, I will cover it for the night,” Percy offered.
“Taken care of already, by Master Gandalf, sir,” Barnabas replied.
Even as the rain fell, Captain Percy Skyhawk’s eyes widened, “Ah, friends of Master Gandalf. No wonder those three were drawn to you. I love Master Gandalf, but the folks he calls friends, do tend to have the worse luck at staying out of trouble.” He coughed, “I will keep watch tonight around the inn and assure those three don’t return.”
Maethordan observed Captain Percy Skyhawk before speaking, “I got the request from one of our captains who took the request in person from Gandalf himself, my name is Maethordan and I am a Ranger of the North. Your appearance was a timely Captain, thank you otherwise it may have got bloody."
Captain Skyhawk nodded, looking at Maethordan. "It is good to meet you, Ranger of the North. Though many in Bree are suspicious of your kind, I am thankful for your watchful eye. While I am able to keep an eye inside the walls of Bree, I know you and your kind have kept an eye beyond the walls of Bree and beyond."
He smiled and looked behind him, standing timidly in the shadows. "My arrival was thanks to Teelia," he gestured to the waitress who had served them at the Prancing Pony.
He then looked to Barnabas, "Barnabas sent her to fetch me. I am glad I was able to arrive before things got too messy. Those twins are quite a bit of trouble and had things escalated, dealing with their father would have been troublesome for everyone." He shook his head; he was clearly upset that the twin's father had repeatedly assured that his sons would not land in Bree's jails - and if they did - it was for a short time - and much scolding. He smiled again, "I promise you, Bree is normally quite quiet."
Lodin stood up straight with respect. "Well, I apologize for not introducing myself sooner, I tend to be of a one-track mind," as he looked at his pants that had torn a little more from the burst at Lenny.
"I am Lodin, son of Brodin, come from the east to seek trolls and other large evils to slay, at your service. " Lodin bowed. "Sorry to draw such attention. Captain, this is a dagger wielded by the drunk boy, I think his name was Lenny?"
He handed the dagger to the Captain hilt first. "Furthermore, he mentioned a cart of weapons they were trying to move. It sounds like this was more than just a crime of opportunity. From my experience, thieves, even horse thieves, don't pick hard fights, only easy ones. I had hoped we might question them before sending them away. It may even be an insurrection with a cart full of weapons."
Hobart had kept his eye on the three troublemakers, even long after they vanished beneath the darkness within Bree as thunder rolled across the skies, before stepping out of the shadows, his stern gazed transformed back into a wide smile, “Well, blessed by the elves we must be! What a sight that could have been! Thank goodness you arrived when you did.”
Hobart reached his hand out, almost cutting off Lodin. "Captain Skyhawk! As always, nothing gets past you! Sorry for stirring up so much trouble! We'll be out of your hair soon!" Hobart laughed and shook the captain's hand with both hands.
Percy seemed as if though he was about to say something to Lodin, when suddenly Hobart grabbed both of Percy’s hands and shook them. Percy raised an eye brow, recognizing Hobert, and said, "Hobart," Captain Skyhawk laughed, shaking the messenger's hands. "Are you the one who delivered Gandalf's message to these fine people? Or are you a part of this too?"
“In the thick of it,” Hobart smiled, coyly.
“Naturally,” Percy smirked. He took the dagger from Lodin, now that his hands were free from Hobart’s over enthusiastic handshake. “You are not to blame for the trouble,” he said, addressing Lodin’s comment. “The three of them have a history. The twins are sons of someone of some influence here in Bree who manages to keep them out of our jails," Percy growled with some frustration.
"Lenny, on the other hand - his father is useless,” Percy’s voice was less angry and almost sad, “A drunkard like Lenny, that poor boy never had a chance of being anything other than what you saw. As for the weapons," Percy nodded, "the twins have made threats against myself, and other Wardens of Bree. We've kept our eyes on them - as much as we can, while they're in Bree. If there is truly a stock of weapons they're in possession of, it's outside of Bree, I believe. Perhaps in some cave or hillside. I know you're friends of Gandalf, and his friends tend to, as I said, get dragged into trouble. Let me know if you find any evidence of these weapons if you do travel outside of Bree."
Fay and Barnabas, who were still standing in the doorway, exchanged glances. "I am sure you do not get to warm yourself with more than soup and ale while on the road,” Fay whispered, “Tea can help. Where is it you came from? You make it sound as though that is where we will be going." Her voice was low, like a ghostly whisper, nearly drowned out by the sound of the rain tapping the wooden walls of the Prancing Pony.
Barnabas, turned his head, "I can barely hear you above the terrible thunder. What was it you were asking me?" He glanced down, "Ah yes, the tea. Well, knowing you were friends of Master Gandalf I got the special tea for you. That tea, if it is to be believed, comes from Elves - they call it Lasgalen. Nob, who knows Master Baggins of the Shire, was given this tea for me to use. But being from Elves, you can imagine, I only use it for special occasions and special guests! Yourself included!"
Fay smiled lightly at Barnabas but felt a shiver chase down her spine. She quietly returned inside the inn and returned to their table, reaching into a small bag at her wait, and pulled out her embroidery. With the skilled hands passed down from her mother, she continued to work on the pattern of a fox chasing a bird.
Maethordan’s gaze had followed Fay as she returned to the inn, before turning his attention back to Percy. "The Rangers know Bree and trust it as friendly,” he said, “so there is no need to defend your town to me. I think I will take my leave and retire to the inn. Thanks again."
Percy nodded to the Ranger as he turned and left, returning to the Inn. Maethordan quickly spotted Fay, seated back at their designated table, sewing and moved quickly and quietly across the room. In low tones he said, "One of the ruffians called you a 'Witch.' Why would he do that? You must excuse my bluntness, but we Rangers take such issues seriously."
Without glancing away from her embroidery, Fay muttered, “Should we follow a Longshanks into the woods because he happens to show up at a table?” The sarcasm in her softly spoken words were as thick as cool honey.
She cleared her throat and added, “I would think a Ranger would know better. I am what I am, as you are what you are. There is no rhyme or reason to how one views another other than the actions we take and the darkness in others that would perceive it as ill.”
Maethordan considered her words and looked back at her coolly without rancor and said, still in a low voice, “My apologies, I did not say that these opinions were true or just, merely observing that they were said. They are unfounded I do not doubt, but in my line of work, it pays not to assume things. If you were, to say, have advanced knowledge of plants and their uses, this knowledge would be very useful indeed and would explain why some may misconstrue a connection to witchery. You have my apologies.”
“It is, as you said,” she whispered. “I had the misfortune of losing my father to the sword, and my mother and grandfather to the fever. I have spent my youth growing up and studying with my grandfather and his herblore, before the fever took him.”
Watching Fay, followed by Maethordan, going back into the Prancing Pony, and watching Hobart speaking with Percy, Lodin shrugged and turned to Ellwin, "Master Ellwin. If you don't mind I think I'll go get my sword from my room, just to be careful." He left it unsaid that he wondered if there were any more ruffians lying in wait.
Ellwin, who is not wholly unaccustomed to ruffians and drunkards (though Barnabas usually stopped the drinks flowing and gently removed troublemakers - from time to time, they were problematic - but as Captain Percy Skyhawk said, it was - overall, peaceful in Bree... but of late, things seemed to be intensifying. Ellwin cleared his throat, realizing his mind had wandered and with a slightly bleached white face, as the rain grew stronger, said, "Yes, well, that might be a good idea, sir."
Lodin quickly entered the Prancing Pony and a quick scan of the inn revealed that Maethordan and Fay had returned to their table.
Still, inside the inn his senses were still out of sorts from the adrenaline and he barely controlled himself as a sudden hand shot up or a person got up from their seat and turned towards him.
Reaching his room, which Gandalf had kindly paid for, he unlocked it, and took two long, slow breaths to slow his nerves. He saw his long sword and quickly strapped it on. He noticed his shield and hesitated a moment but decided it would make him look paranoid.
Even though at this point he was paranoid, he left it alone. He also noticed his purse of coins and slapped his forehead. What did he intend to pay for the clothes with, not having any money on him? He grabbed several silver coins from the purse and hurried back to the entrance of the Prancing Pony, not wanting to keep Master Ellwin waiting in the rain any longer. As he arrived, descending the stairs, he said, "Shall we?"
Ellwin glances at Lodin as he re-emerges from the Prancing Pony, a fine blade strapped to him. He heaved a deep sigh, admittedly more comfortable now. He looked to Captain Percy Skyhawk, "We are headed to my shop for clothing for the young man," he explained, gesturing towards Lodin. "Hopefully the twins and Lenny are of no more trouble this dreary night."
As Lodin and Ellwin walked, there was awkward silence. Ellwin wasn't sure what to say - he certainly had not expected trouble coming out of the Prancing Pony. Thunder rolled ominously across the sky and finally Ellwin said, in an effort to break the silence between them and not think of how dark the thunder had just sounded, "You're not from around here, as the twins and Lenny noted. Master Gandalf summoned you here." He wasn't asking anything, he was speaking just to speak out of nerves. They walked for several hundred feet, passing several homes and stores, before Ellwin gestured to his store front, The Greenway. He walked up and unlocked the door and gestured for Lodin to come in, even as he entered and lit several lanterns positioned around the tables.
Clothes in various states of creation and repair hung on the walls, draped on tables, as he began to rifle through them. Ellwin glanced up at Lodin, looked him up and down one more time, this time with the lantern's light, and finally pulled out some clothing. "This should fit you," he said proudly. The clothing were earth-brown and grey in color. "It's not much to look at, but it should be comfortable."
Lodin looked around for somewhere to change.
Ellwin pointed to a room that has a wooden door ajar. "Sorry," Ellwin shook his head, still rattled by the earlier event. "I have already forgotten my manners, and that you're not from Bree. The changing room is there."
Lodin made sure the front door was locked and then heads to the changing room. After he was done he returned to Ellwin old clothes in one arm and 3 silver coins in the other hand.
His pants were hanging properly, but the shirt was a little scrunched up under his leather armor from hurrying to get redressed. "Maybe you can make something useful from these old rags." He handed the clothes to Ellwin and continued. "I know you said you would collect from Gandalf for the clothes, but knowing him, who knows when the next time he comes to Bree will be? I'll likely see him sooner than you." Lodin left out that he didn't intend to collect from Gandalf and handed Ellwin the 3 silver coins continuing, "For the trouble, both after hours service and the danger my presence brought to you."
Ellwin took the clothing offered to him with a smile. "I can do something with these," he nodded, even as he took the coins. "Thank you. If I see Master Gandalf, and he does pay me, I will use that coin for the orphanage and the school here in Bree, so that that there's hope for those less fortunate to not follow in the steps of Lenny, and the twins." His eyes brimmed with a shimmering tear, before he wiped it away and cleared his throat. "I will go with you back to the Prancing Pony. I left some friends there who are probably wondering where I am," he laughed.
Ellwin locked his shop behind him, greeted by the downpour of rain and the unnerving sound of rolling thunder. Flashes of lightning split the night sky, sending shadows dancing across the wall. People moved quickly through the streets, pulling their hoods and cloaks around them as they each ran for shelter from the rain.
Back at the Prancing Pony, Lodin joined Maethordan, Fay and Hobart; each engaging in some small talk as the night wound on. After several hours, the patrons in the Inn either returned to their homes or returned to their rooms that they had paid for in the Prancing Pony. Lodin, Maethordan, Hobart and Fay were each given their own room and turned in for the night, as some of the last patrons of the Prancing Pony.
The rain had persisted all right, rapping against the wooden walls and the glass windows, followed by the occasional rolling thunder and piercing flash of thunder that would turn the dark night as bright as a morning day for a brief moment.
November 6, 2965…
The following morning, the rain had finally stopped – but dark clouds remained, threatening to release the storm once again.
Everyone gains the benefits of a long rest (if it’s needed). The party can fill in any discussion they had that night, sitting in the inn (before turning in for the night) and discuss any morning activities.
What I will need next is the travel plans as we move and really begin to get the game going!
The members of the Company assume different roles during a journey. A journey role summarizes roughly what a Player-hero is doing for the length of the trip and comes into play when the Company experiences an event.
A travelling Company must cover all four available roles. The same role can be assigned to more than one Player-hero, with the exception of the Company’s Guide.
A Player-hero can take on multiple roles but can only do so with penalties (see further in this chapter) and by doing so cannot provide help to Player-heroes assigned to the same role (see Resolve the Event). Certain features, such as the Warded Lands feature of the Warden, allow Player-heroes to take on multiple roles without penalties (but they still cannot provide help to other companions assigned to the same role).
The Roles:
Guide
- In charge of all decisions concerning route, rest, and supplies.
Hunter
- In charge of finding food in the wild.
Look-out
- In charge of keeping watch.
Scout
- In charge of setting up camp, opening new trails.
Now, as you all determine who is going to take what job (or if some of you will double up) – please don’t discuss numbers. Do not say “I have a +2 in travel.” Instead say, “I am good at travel” or “I know the roads well.”
If we discuss numbers, it takes it out of feeling natural and makes it about stats instead of the role play aspect of it.
Naturally, I can’t stop you all from messaging each other and saying, “I have a +2 on travel, what do you got?” – but ideally, you don’t do that! :)
Fellowship Points:
4 (1 per player) + 2 (Gandalf) = 6
Fellowship Bonus: Gandalf
You can spend a Fellowship point to roll an additional d20 after a saving throw (but before the outcome is determined), and choose which of the d20s is used.
Fellowship Points being used does require the party’s agreement. So if you feel a Savings Throw you made may fail, you will need to get the party’s agreement on using a Fellowship Point to allow the re-roll.
Eye Awareness: 2
The Map - [On Discord]
Each square is 1 day’s travel. 1 = Bree
2 = Midgewater Marshes
3 = South Downs
4 = The Road
5 = Weathertop
Things to note – in Midgewater, Maethordan’s intro (in Session 1) revealed that goblins had taken up residence in Midgewater.
In the South Downs, Strider revealed that Gandalf mentioned some strange howling coming from there.
This is not to discourage going either of those directions, but serving only as a reminder in case it was forgotten. Only Maethordan would know this information about the Midgewater Marshes and the South Downs, so far.
Sorry, I am here, I just dont like campaigns in worlds from novels or movies, (not that there's anything wrong with others doing it) with the exception of Alien, which I haven't played yet. I am on the thread though
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Riders on the storm Riders on the storm Into this house we're born Into this world we're thrown Like a dog without a bone, an actor out on loan Riders on the storm
There's a killer on the road His brain is squirmin' like a toad Take a long holiday Let your children play If you give this man a ride, sweet memory will die Killer on the road, yeah
Sorry, I am here, I just dont like campaigns in worlds from novels or movies, (not that there's anything wrong with others doing it) with the exception of Alien, which I haven't played yet. I am on the thread though
Ironically the Alien RPG is by the makers as the Lord of the Rings game setting (Free League Publishing) - assuming, that's the one you mean by Alien RPG.
I will post when the next session is done. Right now, waiting for them to roll their skill checks for their journey departing the town of Bree.
They have one week to respond to each session (so the above was a few sessions collected that had already happened, so the forum here is all caught up for those following) :)
Session 05: It Can’t Rain All The Time, Except When It Does
November 6, 2965…
The Prancing Pony was already bustling with activity, as people came to the tavern to enjoy their food and drink, for breakfast. Some of them spoke of the storm and the rain and how it had impacted their crops, while others spoke in hushed, murmured tones about the “altercation” that they’d heard about that happened outside the Prancing Pony. Some spoke of a robbery, some spoke of several people getting into a fight, the story varied and changed, each time it was told; but one thing was agreed upon, Bree wasn’t as safe as it used to be and something was in the air – the storm was evidence of that.
In truth, in November, it frequently rained in Bree. As a matter of fact, that was common during this season. But the people of Bree are sometimes superstitious and create possibilities that simply do not exist.
Hobart was awake, seated at the table they had sat at night before, his feet kicked up on another chair, sipping at a drink. Fay came out of her room next, looking more exhausted than rested, the pounding thunder throughout the night, causing her to jump throughout the night. She was thankful to see that both the rain and thunder had stopped in the morning – this should make their travel more bearable.
Fay covered her mouth as she attempted to stifle a yawn. “Good morning. If we’re setting out soon, know I have never traveled far out of Bree, but I will try to help where I can.”
Maethordan stepped inside the Prancing Pony, having come in from the outside. He saw his companions, “Lodin is out in the stable with his horse.”
Lodin was in the stable, running his hands through Dolly’s mane. “Sorry about the rain and thunder last night.” Dolly huffed and stomped her hoof on the ground once. Lodin laughed, he knew that meant that no mere thunderstorm was going to shake the spirit of Dolly. “It’s good to hear,” he laughed, and patted her on the head before returning to the Prancing Pony and joining his comrades at the table for breakfast.
Barnabas Butterbur approached, genuinely concerned. “I know you’re all leaving on that business you have,” he whispered, keeping his voice low. “Do be careful. It can be dreadful out on the road, especially for friends of Master Gandalf. You all have a free room here, whenever you might return. And I am sorry about that business with the twins and Lenny. I should have caught that sooner, I should have!”
Waiting for Barnabas to leave, Lodin looked to Maethordan and the others and whispered, “Speaking of those three - Where do you suppose is the most likely for those scoundrels to have hidden those weapons? Do you think the wilds, or somewhere near the road?"
Maethordan looked grimly at them, "We will have to leave that to the captain of the Wardens, Percy. Gandalf asked me to bring you to Weathertop and I will. We must move quickly as there are Goblins to the north of the road in the marshes due east of here."
Lodin nodded, "I understand your urgency – one should not keep Gandalf waiting, but even he would probably say to not let problems to fester. We may have a much bigger problem on our hands later if we don't deal with it now. Looking for a hidden cache while we travel will not slow us down. If we find it, we can quickly rehide it and deal with it later. If we don't find it, so be it."
Maethordan looked at Lodin, and replied, "We will be following the south side of the road to avoid the goblins in the north. Please do not move too far away from our route."
“That eases my mind,” Lodin smiled as he packed the last of his belongings, tightly into his bag. “This time of year I wouldn't want to be caught in open country if the first snowstorm blows in. I do not expect us to roam the wilds or downs, only to keep an active eye out. No harm in being vigilant, but Captain Skyhawk asked us to report to him if we find evidence of the weapons.”
Traveling along the Great Eastern Road leaving Bree, the first night of travel had been easy, if not muddy, from the endless rain. Hobart had managed to find a boar to kill, providing for three days more of meat on the road.
While Lodin had been scouting, he kept an eye out for this wagon of weapons the ruffians had mentioned, but it would seem if there was evidence of it – last night’s rainfall may have washed it away (or it wasn’t along this road that it was hidden).
The second day of travel saw the rain return. The rain had come down gently at first, but it was not long before it had come down so hard, that visibility was hampered, and moving through the well-traveled path that was normally harden dirt, now seemed to be no better than the Midgewater Marshes to the north, as the mud seemed to clasp and hold onto their boots, as if doing everything it could to slow them down. That second night, when they camped, it was unclear if the thunder had rattled Fay, but she swore all night, she could hear things moving through the brush and swore she heard howls to the south.
November 8, 2965…
Event – Look-Out – Mishap – Fatigue DC +2
Fellowship Points:
4 (1 per player) + 2 (Gandalf) = 6
Fellowship Bonus: Gandalf
You can spend a Fellowship point to roll an additional d20 after a saving throw (but before the outcome is determined), and choose which of the d20s is used.
Eye Awareness: 2
Maethordan – Give me another Travel (Guide) roll.
Are we keeping the rest the same? Fay on Look-Out
Lodin on Scout
Hobart on Hunter
Hobart is next alphabetically – roll me a d4 to determine the next leg of the adventure’s weather –
Also threw together a website, so I could host the images (like the maps and such for anyone who cares enough) - as well as notes about NPCs, places, as well as player bios (written by the players) and the letter(s) they got from Gandalf.
The first day’s travel out of Bree, had been pleasant enough. Fay had been thankful that the rain – and especially the thunder – had finally stopped.
The second day of travel, however, would not be so kind. The rain had initially come down gently, but it had not been long before the dark clouds above, that seemed to follow them, opened up and unleashed pouring road, roaring thunder and lightning that split the skies with blinding brilliance.
The rain had slowed them down considerably. The normally hardened, well-travelled path of the Great East Road was now a muddy trail that clutched at their boots, grasping and grabbing, as if given life.
By the time the night had fallen, the moon hidden behind the thickness of the storm clouds, the shadows of night were darker than any Fay had remembered, there was no light to be seen anywhere – the stars and moon were all gone. The roads bore no travelers, save for themselves, so not even lanterns or campfires could be seen.
The second night on the road had proven difficult for Fay, as she swore that she could hear howls to the south, but the others had assured her that it was nothing more than the wind howling, violently, through the trees.
Her mind had gone back to the first night, before the rain had opened up from the skies to fall so relentlessly upon them. There had been warmth and a campfire. She recalled Lodin sitting at the edge of the campfire, stroking the flames with a stick as he’d asked, “Are you an apprentice of Gandalf’s?”
She had thought the question was odd, and had chewed at her thumbnail, before answering, “No,” she shook her head. “In truth I barely know him. He had come to Bree from time to time, for celebrations – or he would visit my grandfather if he was in need of herbs and plants. He and my grandfather seemed to know one another well,” her voice trailed, “when my grandfather was still alive.”
She had stood to approach Lodin’s horse, which she had heard him refer to her as Dolly. She allowed Dolly to sniff at her hand, before running her hand up Dolly’s head. Dolly’s tail had flipped about in approval of the attention she was given. Fay had turned to Lodin, “How is it you know the old man?” she had smiled, before asking, “And where is it you are from?”
Lodin nodded, giving both her response to his question, and her own question back at him, some thought. “Not too different from you, it would seem. He knew my grandfather who fought in the Battle of the Five Armies with his King. Gandalf visits the Court of King Bard from time to time. I certainly wasn’t expecting him to call upon me – least of all while in an abandoned tower on my way here to Eriador. I’ve been asked to ensure everybody’s safety,” he patted his weapons.
Maethordan looked over at Fay as Lodin patted his weapons and asked, “What experience do you have with fighting?”
Fay winced – she had not wanted to be thought a burden. “None,” she finally said after a moment of silence. “Though I have some experience with a bow, when I have done some hunting.” She was silent for a moment longer, “I have not been one to fight. My mother was a peaceful seamstress, my father a Warden of Bree, but he did not teach me to fight. My grandfather, he spoke of some battles, but he too was not one to show me how to fight. He taught me herbalism.” She had looked between Lodin and Maethordan, unsure of how to phrase the next thing, so she simply had spoken the words, “I respect those who protect us, but I find fighting pointless.”
Maethordan had smiled at her – had it been the first time she’d seen the Ranger smile? His voice was gentle, but stern, “Unfortunately, creatures such as Orcs and Trolls do not share your opinion and if you are lucky, they will just try to kill you. I would suggest Lodin,” he gestured with a bow to his head, “run you through a few techniques for close defense.”
Lodin had sighed and poked the figure with the stick again. “That will have to wait for when we’re not traveling. Basics are not easy to learn on the road. But,” he looked up at Fay, who had been standing next to Dolly, “the first thing to be aware of is your surroundings. Knowing where your allies and enemies are even with sword skills can be the difference between life and death, even more so for those trying to stay out of the fight. Sticking to your bow will most likely be the safest thing for all of us.”
“I do have a dagger,” which she had pulled from her belt, “but I did not think I was asked to come to kill things. Dead creatures ill or ally mans more ghosts.” Her voice had trailed off, just in time as Hobart had re-entered the camp, holding the remains of a boar, unaware of the conversation that had been transpiring while he’d been out hunting game.
“Look at this thing,” he threw the boar’s carcass near the campfire, pleased with himself. “This should give us a few days of extra rations, at the very least.” Despite his cheery demeanor, even as he threw the boar carcass down, he was stretching out his shoulder, and a quick wince of pain had shot down his body. It had mostly gone unnoticed by the others, but Fay had seen it.
Thunder cracked and lightning split the sky, bringing Fay back to the present. The rain seemed to give one final burst of rainfall, before the rain finally relented, turning into a lighter rainfall.
Fay had been assigned to be the look-out, and she had been the reason they’d slowed down before during the rain, because she believed they were being pursued by howling creatures – in truth the rain had played a larger part to the party’s decreased speed, but Fay could not help but feel responsible for their pace – she wanted desperately to be the reason to pick up the pace when she heard Lodin’s words in her mind again:
“The first thing to be aware of is your surroundings.”
That’s when she saw it – just off the path – an undiscovered, hidden road, that seemed to move towards the direction of Weathertop. Had the rain not relented, there was a good chance she might have missed this hidden road. She was excited to find a short cut to Weathertop!
Moving off the road ever so slightly, up ahead in some ruins of a tower, she saw black smoke rising upward. She peered ahead and saw it – a man was talking to someone else – someone she could not see from here, because part of the tower’s ruined stones was blocking her view. She then saw three other men, moving around the camp, but she could not see who the man was speaking to.
She gestured for the others to come look. They could see a group of three men, near a campfire, another speaking to someone that they could not see.
“Travelers?” whispered Fay. “Traders, perhaps?”
But then the figure came into sight.
Even on this dark, moonless and starless night, there was no mistaking it.
You can spend a Fellowship point to roll an additional d20 after a saving throw (but before the outcome is determined), and choose which of the d20s is used.
Eye Awareness: 2
Any rolls you’d like to do (such as Perception checks), feel free to do. I assume (but don’t want to force) – but if the player-heroes want to engage in combat, also roll for Initiative.
So i'm a writer, and i need some advice. I'm writing a story where a character gets really serious electrical burns from some sort of electrical weapon. In theory, this leaves the character with bad electrical burns on their face, neck, and shoulders. I want a plotline where the character has to come to terms with being scarred, because they're not shallow by nature, but they perceive themselves as not having many talents or skills. They've always been nothing but a pretty face, so now that they (in their perception) aren't pretty anymore, they don't think they have anything else going for them. Lots of character development and growth etc, but there's a problem. I have no idea how electrical burns work. I don't know how they scar, what they look like determined by how they happened, if they're anything like thermal burns. There's lots of guides to writing burns, but not electrical burns, so if anyone knows anything about this topic, i'd appreciate the help.
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I'm fry, and I make doodles. That's why they call me FRY DOODLES. Also no pressure but check out my YouTube channel (Fry Doodles) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire who's always open to chat. I'm a sensitive little sad bean, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, princess-of-quite-a-lot, and certified silly goose
So i'm a writer, and i need some advice. I'm writing a story where a character gets really serious electrical burns from some sort of electrical weapon. In theory, this leaves the character with bad electrical burns on their face, neck, and shoulders. I want a plotline where the character has to come to terms with being scarred, because they're not shallow by nature, but they perceive themselves as not having many talents or skills. They've always been nothing but a pretty face, so now that they (in their perception) aren't pretty anymore, they don't think they have anything else going for them. Lots of character development and growth etc, but there's a problem. I have no idea how electrical burns work. I don't know how they scar, what they look like determined by how they happened, if they're anything like thermal burns. There's lots of guides to writing burns, but not electrical burns, so if anyone knows anything about this topic, i'd appreciate the help.
One thing to know - what kind of setting is this?
Is it a modern world setting or futuristic setting? If so, that's going to be easier to piece together.
If it's D&D... that might be more difficult, but still entirely possible.
So i'm a writer, and i need some advice. I'm writing a story where a character gets really serious electrical burns from some sort of electrical weapon. In theory, this leaves the character with bad electrical burns on their face, neck, and shoulders. I want a plotline where the character has to come to terms with being scarred, because they're not shallow by nature, but they perceive themselves as not having many talents or skills. They've always been nothing but a pretty face, so now that they (in their perception) aren't pretty anymore, they don't think they have anything else going for them. Lots of character development and growth etc, but there's a problem. I have no idea how electrical burns work. I don't know how they scar, what they look like determined by how they happened, if they're anything like thermal burns. There's lots of guides to writing burns, but not electrical burns, so if anyone knows anything about this topic, i'd appreciate the help.
This is a more technical question that probably just requires more research. Try to find medical writings on electrical burns.
Why D&D is the closest to the good choice for TTRPGs.
First of all, D&D (5e) is probably the most popular and well known TTRPG to the "general public." So when they think of playing - what's probably generated their interest is seeing something D&D related (whether it's someone on Youtube, some famous person who spoke of it, or the movie, or how there's a whole D&D thing at Universal Studios) - without a doubt, someone brand new to TTRPGs is having their interest generated by something specific to D&D. (Obviously, edge cases like an older brother/sister/family member introducing someone to some other gaming system - but this is why I said the general public).
The plus side, D&D has a ton of books and modules and resources to pull from. So someone looking to play D&D, if they know someone who can run it, there's both a ton of Race and Class options to choose from. So the world feels like it's something that you can play with very little limit to your imagination.
But is it perfect? Probably not. But no gaming system is really. Someone is always going to find something wrong or to complain about.
Check out my publication on DMs Guild: https://www.dmsguild.com/browse.php?author=Tawmis%20Logue
Check out my comedy web series - Neverending Nights: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Wr4-u9-zw0&list=PLbRG7dzFI-u3EJd0usasgDrrFO3mZ1lOZ
Need a character story/background written up? I do it for free (but also take donations!) - https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?591882-Need-a-character-background-written-up
Been wanting to run the Lord of the Rings 5e (got all the physical books) but all my current games I run are knee deep in normal D&D - so I gathered 4 players on Discord, and we're doing a play by post. So every Monday, I summarize what happened, and create the next post for players to react to.
Here's the first session I wrote - that basically brings the players together.
Session 01: The Summons.
Check out my publication on DMs Guild: https://www.dmsguild.com/browse.php?author=Tawmis%20Logue
Check out my comedy web series - Neverending Nights: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Wr4-u9-zw0&list=PLbRG7dzFI-u3EJd0usasgDrrFO3mZ1lOZ
Need a character story/background written up? I do it for free (but also take donations!) - https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?591882-Need-a-character-background-written-up
I gathered everyone's replies, and their dialogue with one another, and when one of the players left with an NPC, had everyone roll perception checks, and took all of that to make...
Session Two: Familiar Faces, Troubled Times
Check out my publication on DMs Guild: https://www.dmsguild.com/browse.php?author=Tawmis%20Logue
Check out my comedy web series - Neverending Nights: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Wr4-u9-zw0&list=PLbRG7dzFI-u3EJd0usasgDrrFO3mZ1lOZ
Need a character story/background written up? I do it for free (but also take donations!) - https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?591882-Need-a-character-background-written-up
😂
Lightning flashes, it creates ash. The ash forms a human.
If you don’t know where I am, I’m either sleeping or roleplaying. If I’m doing neither of those things, except the worst. (Do not actually expect the worst) If you need to talk then PM me. Head Acolyte of The Tree Cult.
Check out my publication on DMs Guild: https://www.dmsguild.com/browse.php?author=Tawmis%20Logue
Check out my comedy web series - Neverending Nights: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Wr4-u9-zw0&list=PLbRG7dzFI-u3EJd0usasgDrrFO3mZ1lOZ
Need a character story/background written up? I do it for free (but also take donations!) - https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?591882-Need-a-character-background-written-up
BIG THREAD RELEASE WOOP WOOP!
I'm just a gay lil' Hedgehog
Happy Belated Star Wars Day (May the 4th Be With You)... Last year, I ran a Star Wars 5e One Shot for my D&D folks...
Here's the recording of it...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GdaGjNU1mM8&ab_channel=TawmisGreybeard
Check out my publication on DMs Guild: https://www.dmsguild.com/browse.php?author=Tawmis%20Logue
Check out my comedy web series - Neverending Nights: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Wr4-u9-zw0&list=PLbRG7dzFI-u3EJd0usasgDrrFO3mZ1lOZ
Need a character story/background written up? I do it for free (but also take donations!) - https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?591882-Need-a-character-background-written-up
Anyone still come to this thread? Anyone? taps the mic.
Anyway, sharing my 4th session from the Lord of the Rings 5e...
Check out my publication on DMs Guild: https://www.dmsguild.com/browse.php?author=Tawmis%20Logue
Check out my comedy web series - Neverending Nights: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Wr4-u9-zw0&list=PLbRG7dzFI-u3EJd0usasgDrrFO3mZ1lOZ
Need a character story/background written up? I do it for free (but also take donations!) - https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?591882-Need-a-character-background-written-up
Sorry, I am here, I just dont like campaigns in worlds from novels or movies, (not that there's anything wrong with others doing it) with the exception of Alien, which I haven't played yet.
I am on the thread though
Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Into this house we're born
Into this world we're thrown
Like a dog without a bone, an actor out on loan
Riders on the storm
There's a killer on the road
His brain is squirmin' like a toad
Take a long holiday
Let your children play
If you give this man a ride, sweet memory will die
Killer on the road, yeah
I hear they’re putting less brew in the drinks these days
Continue please =)
"Sooner or later, your Players are going to smash your railroad into a sandbox."
-Vedexent
"real life is a super high CR."
-OboeLauren
"............anybody got any potatoes? We could drop a potato in each hole an' see which ones get viciously mauled by horrible monsters?"
-Ilyara Thundertale
Ironically the Alien RPG is by the makers as the Lord of the Rings game setting (Free League Publishing) - assuming, that's the one you mean by Alien RPG.
Less people can handle their brew.
I will post when the next session is done. Right now, waiting for them to roll their skill checks for their journey departing the town of Bree.
They have one week to respond to each session (so the above was a few sessions collected that had already happened, so the forum here is all caught up for those following) :)
Check out my publication on DMs Guild: https://www.dmsguild.com/browse.php?author=Tawmis%20Logue
Check out my comedy web series - Neverending Nights: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Wr4-u9-zw0&list=PLbRG7dzFI-u3EJd0usasgDrrFO3mZ1lOZ
Need a character story/background written up? I do it for free (but also take donations!) - https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?591882-Need-a-character-background-written-up
Session 05: It Can’t Rain All The Time, Except When It Does
Check out my publication on DMs Guild: https://www.dmsguild.com/browse.php?author=Tawmis%20Logue
Check out my comedy web series - Neverending Nights: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Wr4-u9-zw0&list=PLbRG7dzFI-u3EJd0usasgDrrFO3mZ1lOZ
Need a character story/background written up? I do it for free (but also take donations!) - https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?591882-Need-a-character-background-written-up
Also threw together a website, so I could host the images (like the maps and such for anyone who cares enough) - as well as notes about NPCs, places, as well as player bios (written by the players) and the letter(s) they got from Gandalf.
https://sites.google.com/view/lordoftheringsroleplaying/
Check out my publication on DMs Guild: https://www.dmsguild.com/browse.php?author=Tawmis%20Logue
Check out my comedy web series - Neverending Nights: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Wr4-u9-zw0&list=PLbRG7dzFI-u3EJd0usasgDrrFO3mZ1lOZ
Need a character story/background written up? I do it for free (but also take donations!) - https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?591882-Need-a-character-background-written-up
Session 06: Short Cuts And Deep Cuts
https://sites.google.com/view/lordoftheringsroleplaying/session-06-short-cuts-and-deep-cuts
Check out my publication on DMs Guild: https://www.dmsguild.com/browse.php?author=Tawmis%20Logue
Check out my comedy web series - Neverending Nights: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Wr4-u9-zw0&list=PLbRG7dzFI-u3EJd0usasgDrrFO3mZ1lOZ
Need a character story/background written up? I do it for free (but also take donations!) - https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?591882-Need-a-character-background-written-up
I learned how to throat sing.
Please check out my homebrew, I would appreciate feedback:
Spells, Monsters, Subclasses, Races, Arcknight Class, Occultist Class, World, Enigmatic Esoterica forms
So i'm a writer, and i need some advice. I'm writing a story where a character gets really serious electrical burns from some sort of electrical weapon. In theory, this leaves the character with bad electrical burns on their face, neck, and shoulders. I want a plotline where the character has to come to terms with being scarred, because they're not shallow by nature, but they perceive themselves as not having many talents or skills. They've always been nothing but a pretty face, so now that they (in their perception) aren't pretty anymore, they don't think they have anything else going for them. Lots of character development and growth etc, but there's a problem. I have no idea how electrical burns work. I don't know how they scar, what they look like determined by how they happened, if they're anything like thermal burns. There's lots of guides to writing burns, but not electrical burns, so if anyone knows anything about this topic, i'd appreciate the help.
I'm fry, and I make doodles. That's why they call me FRY DOODLES. Also no pressure but check out my YouTube channel (Fry Doodles)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire who's always open to chat.
I'm a sensitive little sad bean, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world.
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, princess-of-quite-a-lot, and certified silly goose
One thing to know - what kind of setting is this?
Is it a modern world setting or futuristic setting? If so, that's going to be easier to piece together.
If it's D&D... that might be more difficult, but still entirely possible.
Check out my publication on DMs Guild: https://www.dmsguild.com/browse.php?author=Tawmis%20Logue
Check out my comedy web series - Neverending Nights: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Wr4-u9-zw0&list=PLbRG7dzFI-u3EJd0usasgDrrFO3mZ1lOZ
Need a character story/background written up? I do it for free (but also take donations!) - https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?591882-Need-a-character-background-written-up
Congrats! Now time to sing some metal!
Check out my publication on DMs Guild: https://www.dmsguild.com/browse.php?author=Tawmis%20Logue
Check out my comedy web series - Neverending Nights: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Wr4-u9-zw0&list=PLbRG7dzFI-u3EJd0usasgDrrFO3mZ1lOZ
Need a character story/background written up? I do it for free (but also take donations!) - https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?591882-Need-a-character-background-written-up
That's epic!
Metallica played nearby recently but I unfortunately couldn't go.
This is a more technical question that probably just requires more research. Try to find medical writings on electrical burns.