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Thing is, all you need to do is change the appearance a bit, if you want consistency. What a race looks like is entirely arbitary, and altering that is child's play. Shifters? Atavistic cave-dwellers who are bonded with animal spirits in a coming-of-age ritual. Gnomes? Read ye some Arthur...

Not as hard as you might think.... Mongoose is republishing and updating them, PLUS you can get them on-line: Project Aon ...just follow the Books link. Not quite all of them are there yet, but they're coming. Also, over at RPGnet there's been a series of "Let's Play" threads working...

I knew a grad student named "Phuc The Boi", which struck me as the most unfortunate name EVER. Except, perhaps, for the local contractor named "Randy Beaver". My own first PC was named Regnar. Because it was "Ranger" spelled backwards. So creative, I was!

Simon mutters a curse. "Damnable thing!" He fixes his gaze upon the attacker, furrowing his brow as he mutters words in a tongue that somehow manages to be both harsh and sibilant at the same time. "Move now, Floch! I've distrated the bastard, at the least!" Casting Cause Fear. Frightened...

"Never argue with a decisive man," Simon chuckles, as he falls into step behind Floch.

"No time to waste, then. Shall we follow directly behind them?"

Simon was, then, relegated to providing moral support this turn? Or does he act after the hidden menace?

With a hissed curse, Simon darts forward. "Back, damn you! Begone from this place!" The light that's been flickering about his hand grows suddenly more intense as he reaches out to grasp one of Floch's attackers..... 1d20+1=18 Spot check. 5' to P22, make a touch attack on the attacker at...

"Well, then, it seems we have one door that's not about to take a bite from us. Let's take that as an omen, and go that way."

Simon nods to Floch. Silently, he enters the room and steps to the right, pressing his back 'gainst the wall as he watches the orc's progress. He's clearly having a difficult time maintaining his focus, however, as the sounds and the masks keep pulling his gaze away from his companion.

"Don't get too far ahead," Simon calls softly after Baelor. "Hope he's not walking into an ambush," he mutters to the others as he produces a Sunrod. Kindling it, he walks to the entrance and peers down into the darkness. With a grimace, he swings his axe onto his back once more and holds up...

I'm intrigued, to be sure. Magister for me. A human Dalelander, young and arrogant. Treats magic like a toy for his amusement, and likes to think of himself as this age's Elminster. He's got a good heart, but lacks much sense of responsibility at this point in his life. "What the point...

"Aye," Simon agrees grimly. "Time's a'wasting." Shouldering his axe, he strides over to the locksmith and levels his best glare at the man. "You are to watch over this...creature," he says in a low tone. He reaches into his belt pouch, produces a silver coin, and hands it to the gnome...

Simon stands back up and stretches, wincing at the sound his spine makes. "We can't waste time," he groans. "We should turn this creature over to someone we can trust -- our patron, who should (I think) remain nameless for the moment would likely be the best choice. That way, if we don't...

"Well," a nonplussed Simon says, "Sooner begun, sooner done, eh?" He swings his axe from his back and tests the edge against his thumbnail as he strides over to the captive. Kneeling down beside the creature, he looks it over slowly, stroking his beard. "I've never seen the like," he...

"Exactly," Simon chimes in. "It's in everyone's best interests, friend. We will keep you safe, one way or another." Yeah, running 4E has done that to me -- I'd forgotten entirely about 3.5's penalty for shooting into melee. My brain has trouble running on two tracks these days, even if...

"Oh, now this simply shan't stand!" Simon raises one hand and traces a symbol in the air, where it hangs for a moment as a sickly-grey sigil before, with a flick of his wrist, he sends it seething through the air towards the cloaked man. "Take him alive, if we can!" Weekends are always...

With a sigh, Simon raises his hands and flexes his fingers, bluegreen light flickering briefly around them. "Ready enough, friend."

Simon shakes his head, and begins to wander the shop as the gnome speaks, peering into corners and lightly stomping on floorboards, running a finger across the row of hanging keys as if to study the jungling noise this motion produces. He makes no pretense at subtlety. Never does, really...

"A pleasure, good sir," Simon beams, sketching a quick bow. "It seems our numbers are growing by leaps and bounds; the kidnappers, whoever they be, haven't a chance." He turns to the locksmith, bowing again. "Master Ghelve, I do beg your pardon -- emotions are running high, as you surely...