Current Roster
1. Strucking Fuggle - The Bard
2. Otaku Taylor - The Monk-like Swashbuckler
3.
4?
(I refuse to allow more than four players total, as I've tried larger groups and the more people in a group, the slower the flow of the game is. Ideally, I would have three.)

And this is...?
A DnD campaign, entirely homebrew, and meant to truly capture the idea of the commoner to hero story. To help with this, everyone begins as a first level commoner. As the story progresses, you will (quickly) have the option to branch off to other classes, but the majority of your character's life will have been spent being a farmer. It is intended as a look into what makes adventurers (read: PCs) who they are, and allow the PCs to take a look at who their characters are, as people, something the standard campaign often overlooks entirely. It also lets me incorporate a number of ideas I've had recently, streamlining them into one single campaign.

The campaign will begin with a "tutorial"-style prologue, in which each character is still a commoner living in Sigil, a thorp of about 40 people (And about a day's walk from Talfrin, a trade city). They'll be railroaded into learning what being an adventurer is all about, and by the end, they'll be ready to become true adventurers and will have the option to take a level in a PC class. From there, the campaign will proceed from low-key to, eventually, epic-style stories (Doubt it would make it to epic levels, since I'm not a fan of those, to be honest).

Character creation is simple: You're a level 1 commoner. Stats are 3d6, but you may reroll any three individual dice. If your total modifiers average to lower than -1, or if you have nothing above a 10, you may reroll entirely. You have d10 gp that you may spend at your leisure, which represents money you've saved over the years. Commoner HD has been changed to d6, if only for survivability's sake. All core feats are allowed; Non-core feats are allowed on a case-by-case basis only, and will only be approved if it makes sense for the character to be able to learn it. One important note, however, is that you may not take a level in another class until a certain condition has been met, and the condition depends on the difficulty of picking up the gist of the class. A current complete list:

Barbarian - Observe in a fight or conversation about class
Bard - Day's travel
Cleric - Training only
Druid - Training only
Fighter - Conversation about class or observe in a fight
Monk - Training only
Paladin - Training only (Can take paladin levels after meeting, but considered mechanically an ex-paladin until training is complete)
Ranger - Day's travel
Rogue - Day's travel with the rogue not attempting to hide their use of skills. This differs from training only as it is merely the rogue consenting to be learned from, rather than attempting to teach.
Sorceror - Conversation regarding class
Wizard - Training only
Swashbuckler - Observe in a fight or conversation about class
In any case, these are the bare minimums. A barbarian can train someone on the finer parts of barbarianing, and the character will have a better understanding of it, but it's not neccessary to emulate the class. Other classes will be added on a case-by-case basis.

Sign up lasts for 48 hours. You have 72 hours following that to create a character and get it to me.

if you'll have me, im in I call Paladin. character made after work.

I would very much like to butt in and co-DM this, Bander, following your lead of course. I just need the opportunity to flex my proverbial creative muscles.

Mike, what is with you and paladins? Especially since they're so multiple ability dependent, I'd think they'd feel rather gimped with the ability rolling system here. That said, if you want a paladin, go for it.

Kaymeera, PM or IM me with what you had in mind. :o

Here's my character sheet. Hope the link works. Point out any errors please!

Julie Errin
http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheets/view.php?id=28773

Signup is over. The roster is Strucking Fuggle, otakutaylor, and mikehendo.

You've 72 hours to get your character sheets finished.

Bandersnatch wrote:Kaymeera, PM or IM me with what you had in mind.

*Shrug*

I was mostly just hoping I could be brought in on the creative process. Nevermind though

ooc: well, I like monks and rangers mostly.. The monk was already taken and the ranger plan didnt sound so good. But honestly, I want to get a paladin through one of your games..Character tonight. sorry about the delay, in-laws are in town./

Umm... where'd everyone go?

There was a slight delay for lack of finished characters.

We've still got someone lacking the finishing touches of their character, but I'll start at approximately 11 pm EST tomorrow regardless.

Sigil.

It is a powerful word, one that evokes imagery of legendary adventures and godly magic.

One would not, then, expect Sigil to be a tiny little hole in the dirt where about forty people call home. Hardly even the gods know why; It's barely a day's walk from one of the largest cities on the continent, with far more luxuries than the podunk can offer. The land isn't any more desirable than any other land, and trade is awful. But despite the vast drawbacks, it is home.

There is, perhaps, one advantage to living in Sigil. It is small enough that the society works as a whole. A successful barter system had been created; Most people are farmers, or raise livestock. They trade their goods to the specialists, who do not have the time to grow their own crops. The village has one baker, who regularly works his culinary magic to convert wheat to bread for the entire town. There is one blacksmith, to replace and maintain tools as they wear out, and these same tools are used to grow the food that he eats. There is one priest, who in exchange for some food, offers eternal salvation for the immortal soul. Most people feel that that's the best bargain of their lives. There is the oligarchy of elders, people old enough to remember half a century ago. In exchange for passing down the ways of Sigil, they are fed regularly.

And there is one tavern, the Blunted Arrow, which is our point of interest. It was originally called the Prancing Gazeebo, but a bet was made years ago, as a young archer had decided that he wanted to own a tavern. The owner made a deal with him: If he could get an arrow to stick into the broad side of the building, it would be his. If he lost, he would lose nothing but his pride, knowing that he couldn't hit the broad side of a bar. The owner gave him a blunted arrow, and through his inexperience with both shooting buildings and using arrows in general (namely, he didn't even notice it was blunted), despite the clear shot the arrow would not stay in. The owner promptly changed the name, as he never liked the Prancing Gazeebo much, anyway.

It's really the main place to deal with currency, although bartering is also known to occur. When Sigil trades, it trades through the Blunted Arrow. Alcohol, metal, clothing, medicinal supplies, and other sundry needs. The owner is an old man, nearly old enough to join the group of elders, in perhaps a few years. He has a few sons, all adults now but all still young. The oldest is next in line to inherit the tavern, and practically runs it as it is. The middle son is a surprisingly smooth talker for a peasant, and provides bits of entertainment for travelling guests. His father thinks the boy is a lackadaisical rascal who needs to get some direction in his life. The youngest child was one of the "lucky" few-- He developed magical abilities at a young age. When a travelling wizard noticed the abilities, he insisted training the boy. The boy left Sigil, and has not spoken with his family since. His father assumes him dead.

There are two barmaids. Originally, there was one. She's a half-elf, which caught the interest of patrons. Some good attention, some bad attention, but overall it meant more tips because she seemed exotic, and tips were always good for business. But an old friend of the owner had a daughter who could just not keep at any one task. He gave her a try, figuring the extra help wouldn't hurt.

Life was slow in Sigil, even at the Blunted Arrow. The days were long and usually uneventful. People would come, stay for a night, and leave. They may come stay another night on their way back, but there was never anyone interested in staying. It would seem, at first glance, this town did not evoke the image of a sigil. In another light, however, the best seals are the kind least noticed...

On this night in particular, there was one patron: A dark-skinned man who introduced himself as Kishore. He was on his way to Talfrin and decided he'd spend a night indoors rather than biouvack. The night was quiet, until about 2 am.

The first noise was a scream from the edge of town. Something like that would put the entire town on alert. As villager after villager awoke, more screams followed. What they saw seemed unreal. The village was surrounded by strange blood-red blobs. They left a blackened trail as they slowly slothed along the ground, ever closer to the buildings. The front of the blobs seemed to be a tormented face, and as people began to focus on them, they felt as though they could hear the screams of the damned.

A few of the villagers were quick to respond; Some were already out there with whatever farm implement or family weapon they could find, trying to fight them. The blobs responded by two whip-like arms, lashing out at the villagers. A few fell after the first wave of lashings.

Julie, Chiyome, Zukka, and Kishore have all just awakened. Chiyome and Julie live with their families, while Zukka and Kishore are both in the Blunted Arrow. Obviously, none of you are currently equipped in anything but your skivvies.

Julie

"Why does Pelor make us wake up so early..." Complains Julie as she leans out of bed, just like every morning. She reaches for her day-clothes, which are supposed to be hanging beside the bed, but as usual are somewhere on the floor where she flung them off before bed. She notices something, however, as she looks around for them. It's still dark and she can't see a thing.

Now she realized what woke her up wasn't her parents usual shout, but something different... something... well she doesn't know what, but it's certainly not normal.

She falls to the floor, feeling around in the dark for her heaviest shirt, the one that's padded, and something for her legs as fast as she can.

Zukka snapped awake, consciousness rising quickly through the haze of grogginess.

"Screams... not good," part of him thought, but another part was quick to chime in, "but - it'll be interesting." Most of him felt shame at the idea, but the quiet voice was insisting. He drug himself from bed, to see what was going on, to help if he could. His clothes had been scattered at the foot of his bed and he bounded from it, grabbing up the loose articles and tugging them over and about his body, tying off the rope that served as a belt, with a bag of stones hanging from it.

His fingers raked quickly through his hair, forcing it back, briefly running a finger over the scars the crossed his chest, three rakes down along his right ribs. For some inexplicably reason, they ached. Grabbing his sling, Zukka slid a stone into the fabric's cradle, giving the whole contraption a spin while he walked, making sure it worked and seemed balanced.

The tavern was dark, but he'd lived in this place for so much of his life - not just as a house but a home, dwelling here in most of his waking hours because it seemed the only place worth being that he could actually get to. And so he glid along its floor, weaving between barely-illuminated tables and benches, coming finally to a wall. Pressing against it like he imagined warriors doing, Zukka poked his head around a window and looked out to see if he could see anything yet.

"Well," he whispered to himself, shaking some errant black hair back from his face, concentrating on peering out into the night, idly swinging the loaded sling back and forth as a pendulum, "what's going on?"

Zukka

Inside the tavern, something catches your eye in the dark, just as you push aside the thin pieces of cloth which act as curtains. Nearby, at an adjacent window, you find another man, staring outside the window. He appears to have both his hands widespread against the windowsill with his face brought right up against the glass, his nose bent against it. The curtain lay askew on top of his head. You notice his hard eyes dart here and there, taking in every detail.

Despite his rather bizarre pose, it wasn't much of a surprise that you missed him as you had hurried over from the stairs. The man has clear, though exotically dark skin, with matching beady black eyes. His hair, also black, is tied up in a tight bun. He is wearing a shirt made of miniature circlets(a metal you had not seen the like of, which seem to twinkle in the dim moonlight), with matching arm and leg braces over tanned leather clothing. The scabbards of various blades of different sizes protrude from his clothing. You recognize him as the traveler who requested a room the night before, the one headed for the city.

He was barely breathing, in fact, he seemed to be keeping especially quiet and yet, he doesn't seem to be aware of your presence.

Julie

Without much trouble, you find your clothes. Just in time, too; the far wall is making a cracking sound, and in the moonlight you can just make out the definitive change. A section of the wall is rotting.

Kishore

You've heard of these things before. Lemures, they're called. They're a type of devil, and while they are among the weakest, they're especially potent against plant life. Their touch decays the strongest oaks and they leave a trail of ichor that prevents even the hardiest of crops from growing in the cursed land they touch.

If this attack were of the devil's own accord, the lemures would not be by themselves. There would be a osyluth or a barbazu or even a pit fiend. They had to be summoned, and summoning this many would take a concentrated effort. One would not attack a hamlet like this just because they could.

There had to be something or someone in this town. Whatever it was, it sounded like it could be the beginnings of an epic tale, one that would be an excellent way to get out a certain bard's name.

Zukka and Kishore

Under the dim light of the moon, at least a dozen of these blobs can be seen. Those that aren't actively engaged in fighting shamble forward towards the building, and upon reaching one, attack the wall, breaking through it shortly thereafter.

Two sets of footsteps came down the stairs of the Blunted Arrow. The first was Zukka's brother, Kor. He ran behind the counter, picking up a hefty club, and turned towards the second set. Zukka's father, Courge, came down with a sword in hand, one that Zukka had not seen in his entire life.

"Don't let them near my bar!" Courge shouted out. "I've seen what they do to the walls, and it is not happening here!" Kor and Courge both ran out the door, presumably to engage against the blobs.

From the windows, Zukka and Kishore could see three of them shambling towards the Blunted Arrow. They were about 50 feet away, but had a clear path to the tavern.

(Initiative is as follows:)

Blob 1 (Left)
Blob 3 (Right)
Kishore
Zukka
Blob 2 (Middle)

The two flanking blobs crawl foward, blackening the earth beneath them. There's about five feet of distance between each one.

(Kishore is up!)