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Paying little heed to the others or their stares, the wild elf moves towards the tower. He is dressed in woodland shades of green and brown, and a leather coat studded with small bits of steel. Though he keeps himself hidden beneath his large cloak of forest green, you notice that his lower...

As Dagart enters the town, he pauses to wipe some of the mud from his boots. He notices the dwarven smith hard at work and head over to exchange pleasantries and examine his craftsmanship.

I'm not all that familiar with Greyhawk - whereabouts would a wild elf hail from? Edit: Google is great. Looks like there's a small community of them in the Phostwood, near the Theocracy of the Pale. http://www.theocracyofthepale.com/background/phostaldaron.html

FENMAREL MESTARINE (the Lone Wolf), Lesser Power, male, CN(G) Attributes: Wildlands Domains: Animal, Chaos, Elf, Plant, Travel Symbol: pair of elven eyes in darkness Typical Worshippers: wild elves, outcasts Favored Weapon: Dagger Fenmarel Mestarine (FEHN-muh-rehl MESS-tuh-reen) is the eternal...

Edit: dropped a few items to get myself back down to a light load. Tallied up purchases and weights. Rolls are under "Meepo2" Stats: 16 12 15 12 15 18 12 becomes 18 18, 18, 16, 15, 15, 12 Aramil Male Wild Elf Cleric (Fenmarel Mestarine) Level 1 Str: 15 Dex: 20 (18 + 2 racial) Con: 16...

That's one badass rat :D

I figured I'd give others a chance to join this once since I'm already playing in your other game, but it looks like you still need another player. I'll start working something up right now, be done in a few. :)

Keep in mind that you don't actually have to drop the chain - you can keep it in your hands to take attacks of opportunity with, and fight unarmed using your feet. Have you considered taking your first level as fighter? I think it would really help this build to have access to the spiked chain...

"I figur I can see in tha dark better than e'eryone else, so's I don't mind takin watch in the night. Hopefully we won't a run into too much trouble."

Nothing like storing your food supply on a disease-infested dire rat :D

From time to time, the patrons in the Tavern see Zumar emerge from the back room, grab a fresh mug of ale in each hand, and head back.

OOC: Sorry, had take my grandma to the hospital today. "Aye, I prefer to be up front too, though I don't much like it when they fight back. If there be any enemy spell-throwers, ye can sure as stone count on me to keep them distracted. I could wressle a bear, if I had ta" OOC again...

As Zumar listens to Milo's speech, a tear wells up in his eye. "Aww...that's touching...really makes ye wonder what's wrong with the world...." As everyone turns around shocked at the dwarf's newfound sympathy for the plight of the common man, you notice that he's staring at his mug. "How...

Zumar hands Sturm one of his mugs. In Dwarven, he chuckles, "Feedin' a pointy to a dragon? That's not a half-elf...that's comedy."

Zumar leans against the wall, a mug of ale in each hand. He begins to drink slowly from the left hand, then faster from the right hand, then runs back out to the bar for a quick refill. "Okay, Tig..what be the situation?"

Zumar stops to grab an ale in each hand and then heads back into the private room.

Zhumar ha-rumphs loudly with a deep throaty cough. "Sure ye aren't fergettin someone there, friend?"

"Well, I'd certainly be up for some undead bashin'....but I suppose I can't complain about a bit o' easy money before we tackle the hard stuff. Ye can count on me t' watch yer back while we handle Tiggle's errands for him. Mebbe when we're done the undead will still be there. Not like they're...

Hmm...so the little group Zumar was gathering up to head to the crypt isn't a good idea, then?

"Aye, and silence be worth its weight in gold, especially when dealing with the living dead. You're welcome to come along, provided yer fool songs don't bring a horde of ghouls breathing down our necks, and provide we don't have to risk our necks to save ye." Zumar thrusts his hand out at...