Introduction: Off to War is a campagin open to all willing to play(and for as long as you want to play). Your PC is part
of a lord's army off to join other lords in the defense of the Five Kingdoms. This thread (is the IC for Off to War) will
be the main campaign while other threads (missions) will be little offshot adventures for the players to participate in.
Joining is easy and check out the threads posted below. It will work out that once I have enough PC's gathered in this
thread I will start a mission. They will no longer be able to post in-character in this thread until the mission is
complete. PC's not on a mission may still post in this thread and when ready another mission could be called for.
XP: I will not be using the D&D experience rewards guidelines as detailed in the DmG, but will be using my own formula.
This formula will not be posted(sorry number crunchers). Experience will be handed out the 1st and 16th of each month, so
all you need know is play have fun and the points will come.
Note:This world is not only homebrewed but open to all to help fill in. As we get along in the campaign the world will
come alive just like it would for the PC's who are out of familiar territory and in the unknown themselves. As things
unfold will be posting information about the Five Kingdoms in its' thread.
Update
Please use sblocks to hide any out of character talk/questions and rolls you make in this thread please. Also no quoting please as it looks alittle messy and we want a free flowing story here thanks
The estates of Lord Bairan Doovan (Bear-AN DUE-van), lay far on the western edge of the Five Kingdoms,
in the valley of Pesh. So news of the war against the Treylor Empire was slow in reaching the Keep of the Bear.
Lord Bairan was not slow in the moblization of his men, and along the way he had recuriters go to every farmer,
wayhouse,and keep as he headed east. Adding to his regular troops and volunteers what some like to call the
irregulars. Men and women from all over some not even Peshmen, but merchant guards and some merchants
themselves heeding the High King Haspen's call. You have signed on and been regulated to the irregulars and now
stand among a cluster of small tents, lean-tos, and bedrolls laid about. As you look about for a spot to call
your own a cry raises in the camp "The Bear!, The Bear!", cries out in a hundred men's voices. And there he is
Lord Bairan astride a massive horse and trailed by a dozen or more mounted men, and the white banner with a dark
blue bear running in the wind behind him. He raises a guantleted fist to show the men he is ready to fight to die
for the Five Kingdoms. Just short of the inner camp (that houses Lord Bairan, his followers, and bodyguard) he
draws his horse in making a slow circle inspecting the camp. Soilders flock around him instantly to see what he has
to say. After a small conversation with the man beside him, Lord Bairan takes voice. "Heed me! heed me!, Peshmen nay
countrymen one and all. We are all Five Kingsmen who serve the Great King and serve we shall. The Treylor have
finally turned there eyes to the west and are set to come through the Eastgate Mountains and attack all the Five Kingdoms.
We will march to war and I am sorry a long march it will be." The man beside him says something you cannot hear and Lord
Bairan motions him to silence. "We will be marching across the entire length of the Five Kingdoms to join in the defense
of Highsky Pass. In the months to come we will prepare for battle, grow in number and send the Treylor back to their homes
like whipped dogs!" he continues. "But for now, tonight rest and join your comrades-in-arms in fellowship. For on the morrow
we are OFF to WAR!!" Spurring his horse he gallops off to wild cheers from the camp.
Last edited by HolyMan; 1st July 2009 at 06:06 AM..
"Well don't ye stand thar an stare all night!", a voice bellows from behind you. Turning you see the shortest and widest
person you have ever known. He wears a studded jerkin and padded pants all in shades of brown. A nose the size of a
potato dominates his face and a dark beard streaked through with gray lays on his chest down too his stomach. The handle
of a large sword can be seen over one of his shoulders and his metal helm has two long horns on the sides. "Ye best be gettin' sum rest, ye has a long walk on the morrow and the wilds after that." He turns and walks away yelling at anyone who comes
within his sight, before long he has disappeared behind men,tents, and horses. "Don't mind him, he just doesn't like people who are taller than he is," an old thin man says to you. "Which means he hates just about everyone I guess." he laughes and bends near a fire to check something in the pot hanging there. "Please join me I have enough for you and you too. Please," hey gestures to some logs and a camp chair, then bends to grab a bowl to
start
filling with the stew cooking in the pot.
Last edited by HolyMan; 1st July 2009 at 06:09 AM..
A medium height, overweight man with a warm grin greets the stranger. "Greeting sir. Thank you kindly for your hospitality. My name is Trinham Woods but I answer to Trinham. How are you called sir?"
Trinham then grabs a bowl, ladles in some stew and sits down on a log.
"Greetings to you my large friend. Hungry? Please help yourself." the old man replies easing himself onto a small stool. His dark brown wool robe looks big on his thin frame. He looks over the small group and nods as if to himself. "Manners, manners everyone. I am Follan cook, cobbler, seer, handyman, and herbalist." He smiles back at Trinham. His grin causes a hundred wrinkles to cover his face but they look in place with his chalk white hair. "A pleasure Trinham, and who are you?" he asks, taking a bite of his stew.
"Haha, my name is Shinn. My apologies for not speaking sooner." He laughs as he pushes back his dark hair. "I have come a river's way and am glad to rest my feet a little. Thank you for the fine company." He speaks with a slant and a small grin. "I am a warrior from Tan Province. Pleasure to meet everyone."
He pauses frequently to stretch and observe the busy campground. His many articles lay behind him and he struggles not to lean on his small spear with anxiety. Of course, his excitement for adventure is surpassed only by his interest in his new companions. Had they all come from as far away as himself?
OOC: As promised Deskjob gets the first roll of the campaign. Roll me a Knowledge(history) check please. And edit the result into your first post.
This is a check to see what you know of Lord Bairan's history.
Knowledge(history)
From stories told to you by your uncles you remember they mentioned the name Bairan Doovan. The subject was gaining wealth and influence through the art of war. Lord Bairan was not born a lord he was a stonecutter's son who left at a young age seeking adventure. Years later he took part in a battle against the earl Bronsk and the High King made him a lord for his courage in battle. He came to the valley of Pesh accompanied by some strange companions, they cleaned out a haunted keep then made it their own. He gained fame later by driving the gnoll tribes who lived in the valley to the north.
EDIT: to Deskjob your roll link said 1d20+1 but I have you at +3 (2 ranks + 1INT) you have it at +2 in RG
Last edited by HolyMan; 5th July 2009 at 07:05 AM..
Lora was making her way trough the crowded streets of Solemnheim, the town now bursting with cheering children, bands of armed men, and the occasional tavern wench giggling at all the handsome newcomers.
Lord Bairan Doovan's camp and the main army encampment lay a bit to the North of the town's borders, just far enough not to disturb the locals, but close enough for the merchants, taverns and brothels to make good coin off the conscripts and soldiers.
Lora's short stature made her sink in the colourful throng of people dominating the streets, all that could be seen was a shiny black ponytail, bouncing around as she made her way trough, and the handle of a long Galvie, sticking high off the slender girl's back like a mast.
Lora's face showed determination and lacked any cheer, her pink lips curdled like a rose bud as she flinched every time a man brushed against her body. "This is disgusting!" - she thought, but pushed on nevertheless.
The girl was smart - some would even dub her a genious, although she would always dismiss that as her mother's overzealous promotion of her daughter's skills. Lora would not willingly throw herself in danger once more - she was no longer fourteen.
Soon, the girl found what she was looking for, a piece of yellow parchment nailed to the side of a butcher's shop. Despite the stench of blood and the chopping sound comming from inside, Lora stayed and studyed the script:
"All ye good folk,
that would join our righteous cause and defend the realm from the incomming invasion, blessed be by our King and Sovereign High King Haspen. Join us at the encampent, north of Greenleaf Glen, and ye shall be rewarded for your service with both honour, riches and adventure!
Signed,
Lord Bairan Doovan"
The girl spent several mintues studying the handwriting and the signature, although it was obvious that an adjutant or some other scribe had written this, and the Lord had but only placed his signature at the bottom. It was to be expected, as these were probably scattered trough the province in great number.
Lora looked around and dove in to a nearby inn, sitting in a secluded table in the corner, away from the other patrons. The girl ordered a cup of mead to the sour looking serving wench that attended her table, and then began her attempts at forging the handwriting, making a document that would ensure her safety in the camp. "I am coming Arthur, you better be there when i arive!"
Spoiler:
Forgery: take 10+4 (int) + 8 (seen document) + 4 (seen signature) = 26 how is that?
__________________ Things to know about Myth:
Myth is always online.
Myth always roleplays.
Myth is from Europe.
Myth likes you.
Last edited by Myth and Legend; 2nd July 2009 at 04:26 AM..
Trinham nods as Follan and Shinn introduce themselves but keeps on eating and in almost no time at all his bowl is empty. "This stew is exceptionally tasty, far better than I expected to find in an army camp. You really are a very good cook Follan. Do you think I could trouble you for another bowl."
"As to what I am and where I come from. Well I am a farm boy come failed carpenter. I grew up in the little village of Hazley Bottom, which is about 50 miles west of here, got recruited into the bear's irregulars and trained as a fighter. This stopped once they realised I could cast spells, so I don't really know what I am. A spell casting failed fighter I supposed. This was all said with a huge grin on his face, so you are not sure if he is been completely serious.
Moggins
"At the current time Moggins is trying to stay within a mile of Trinham but outside of the camp. He is enjoying himself chasing rabbits.
Once Lora was finished with her forgery, she sprayed sand over the ink and then blew it off. It was a decent enough attempt, even if the girl knew she could do better. In her small fingers lay a signed and sealed letter, saying
"To any of my subjects and soldiers,
treat the bearer of this letter with utmost respect and aid her by any means necessary, under penalty of severe punishment.
Signed, Lord Bairan Doovan"
One last thing to do before she set out, as night was fast approaching and Lora was reluctant to be caught outside the well light camp. The girl took out a piece of canvas and began drawing her brother's visage with charcoal.
Spoiler:
Craft: Drawing, take 10 + 4 int +4 base = 18. Can you let me know what i have to reflect in my character sheet as lost materials?
Also, i suggest we use this spoiler block for OOC comments in the IC thread (and rolls as well), as it helps preserve the flow and immersion of IC roleplaying. the code is [ than sblock than ] if you want the block to
say something
use [ than sblock=the thng you want then ]
finally, close each section off with [ than /sblock than ]
__________________ Things to know about Myth:
Myth is always online.
Myth always roleplays.
Myth is from Europe.
Myth likes you.
"Haha, well Trinham is looks like nothing can hurt your appetite." Shinn says with a chuckle. "Not to worry either, my friend, I've never met a spellcaster who didn't have a bright future ahead of him. Many have become high ranking officials and even strategists. Its really quite something." Shinn rises slowly "Besides, I hear food conjured from magic is really quite good. Haha."
"Excuse me for one moment brothers. I need to check on my animal." He says before he gathers his gear. It would be gettin' dark soon and Shinn needed to bring the donkey closer to camp. He found it grazing just off the road leading to town. "Come on! I leave ya alone for one second and you wander off. Did you eat the rope again? That one wasn't even mine. Argh, you dumb ox." He sighed to himself. "Just do your business before we head back, ok? Geez..." Of course, knowing this donkey, it would be awhile before he could stroll back to camp.
He leaned against a nearby tree and was thinking about home. He missed it. Shinn paused briefly. "Huh?" Was that a cat watching him? It seemed to disappear as quickly as it came. "Ugh, never mind." He turned and began watching the drifters returning from town.
__________________ "Does it come in black?" -Bruce Wayne
Last edited by Deskjob; 2nd July 2009 at 06:51 PM..
Reason: spelling
Hralfgar straggles in through the darkness into the mass that is the army. He is worn and tired from a long walk, his horse and the larger part of his goods being left behind to help pay his way here. He wears a coat of well cared for scale mail, under it is a dark royal blue tunic trimmed in exquisite gold dragons, fraying from its age. His trousers that are tucked deep into his leather boots are thick black material that hangs loosely. He looks about from inside his metal helmet, its intimidating features drawing attention to him. Slung along his back is a large metal round shield, divided in half by blue and gold with a black dragon flying in circles around the middle. His long golden hair and beard hangs out of the helmet, the silver locks already showing more and more. His longsword, a large and oddly heavy one, is also from a different region, an heirloom with his armor. He wanders about aimlessly, looking for a place to lay his bedroll and heavy blanket. He removes his helmet to see better and cool off under the stars. Afterwards he digs through the remainder of his dried meat, the one sliver, and nuts and washes it down with a swig of hard mead from home. He regrets not bringing his tent, or knives, or dinning ware, or an axe, or tools. Woefully under equipped, he gives up his search to settle down and instead begins to try to barter his mead and gold for an axe, tools, and food.
Fallon says ladling somemore stew in Trinham's empty bowl, "Here my friend." He puts the ladle against the pot and continues, "It is really all in the spices you know, even... the blandest meat can taste like it belongs on the king's table." You believe he was about to say something else but before you can question Fallon a huge bellow erupts from behind the old man.
"FALLON!!,FALLON!!" cries the strange man you encountered earlier that evening. His helm ascrewed and his face red
from running and yelling, he walks up towards the fire huffing and puffing. "Fallon..(huh) I be..(huh) needin ye..(hoo) help," he wheezes. Looking somewhat worried, Fallon rises from his stool and tries to calm him. "Calm Martomum, please just be calm. And tell me what it is you need." Taking a deep breath and then letting it out as if he were blowing a warhorn,
Martomum shakes is head, further misaligning his helm, and making his beard quiver. "I be missin an Outer!" Martomum
exclaimes in a voice that sounds like the world is ending. "He no be back an' nows be an hour late." he says worry plain on
his face.
Last edited by HolyMan; 3rd July 2009 at 06:32 AM..
Hralfgar is drawn to the situation stirring, as is the whole camp it seems. He makes his way to wear all the frenzy is coming from and sees the exhausted and gasping man. Quickly, he pulls out his flask of water and passes it to the man. "Here, drink my friend."
Trinham is sat on his log eating his second bowl of stew, more slowly this time, when Martomum bursts into the camp. After listening to his tale he says "I know its rude to interrupt other people's conversation but I just have to ask. What exactly is an Outer? Also, is there any way that I can help find it?
Moggins
Hearing a din near him, Moggins goes to see what the commotion is all about. Seeing its only a man trying to lead a reluctant donkey back to the camp, he goes back to the more interesting sport of terrorising rabbits.
Martomum takes the offered flask and tilts back his head to try and empty it in one pull. "Cough!.. ack..," he sputters spitting out the water. "Ye tryin' ta poison me boy. Ain't naught but water." Matomum takes a seat on Fallon's stool still sputtering and grumbling to himself.
"Now, now my friend I'm dure it was nothing." Fallon says taking the flask and handing it back to Hralfgar. "I don't believe any of this men know you Martomum," he continues. "Have you even introduced yourself to any of the irregulars in camp? You know they are in your charge as well as the Outriders." Fallon's tone is that of a parent trying to get a point across to a child.
"BAH!!.., irregulars. Bear just.." he stops suddenly and looks to the group. His face taking on a serious look. "Ye all green an did nay no water be poison to a dwarf." He tells them taking a small flask of his own from a pocket.
Fallon snatches the flask on the way to Martomum's lips.
"No , no. You know you have no time for that with a missing Outrider. To answer your question Trinham, the Outriders are a special group of scouts and patrolmen." Fallon tucks the flask in his beltpouch and looks to the dwarf sitting arms folded on the stool."Well, well if you are not going to introduce yourself allow me," he says with a slight bow to the dwarf. "I have, have the pleasure of introducing to you all Martomum Stonebreaker, son of the Eridor dwarves under the mountain Faslaw. Scout and warrior, but most recently quartermaster of Lord Bairan's encampment. Also just this morning so I learned he was put both in charge of the Outriders and Irregulars, interesting?" A smile wrinks his face.
"And these, these are some of the men you are charged with overseeing Martomum. Trinham Woods, Shinn," Fallon points down towards the warrior and donkey. "And I'm sorry, sorry but I don't know your name sir." He says to the armored, blonde bearded warrior.
Shinn was still approaching the fire when he saw Fallon's gesture toward him. "Uh oh," he whispered. "If we're in trouble, then this is all your fault" Shinn muttered at his stubborn mule. It responded by chewing on his pants. "Hey! Ugh, keep this up and I'll ask Fallon to make a soup out of you." The mule just turned and sneezed.
The taskmaster dwarf looked unappieased upon arrival. Shinn stopped his worried glances when he noticed the bearded warrior stepping out from behind Trinham. In the dimming light his helm made quite the impression.
__________________ "Does it come in black?" -Bruce Wayne
Last edited by Deskjob; 3rd July 2009 at 08:59 PM..
Reason: spelling
"My apologies friend, try this. I have learned of your kind but in tales of my fathers. You may have heard of him, Trotsky Fellhand of Bjorngard, he ventured to the mountains Faslaw many years ago to ask the dwarfs to taste his mead. I believe they liked it, for this is the same my father made." Hralfgard passes him a a bottle of dark honey water, Bjorngard Mead. Turning to Fallon he says, "I am Hralfgar Bjorngard." He goes to offer the dwarf a bite of his dried meat, remembering the last was finished as he reached earshot of the encampment.
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