I really like the idea of starting them out together towards an objective to avoid the new player awkwardness of "getting to know you" role playing. Im going to ask them to make a background for themselves, and see if they want to know one another form the outset or not, and then give them their start based on what they want to do with that.
For what it is worth. After DM'ing for 20 years, I have begun starting my campaigns with an encounter, to avoid that weird first session where my players always goof around getting to know each other. I have found it works wonders that we start with some action and then a clearly defined objective.
It requires a bit of prep, but IMO, it's worth it. Below is the introduction to our 4e campaign, which took off in June last year, in case you are interested in an example on how this could be done.
[sblock=A New Beginning; Introduction to the campaign world]
Feron is an advanced empire on the continent of Ghalton. There has been peace for centuries, and trade, art, science and magic has flourished. All the great races live in harmony, working together to improve the realm they inhabit. Or at least that is how it was, up until 31 years ago.
No-one knows quite how things started, but one thing we know for sure is that suddenly, people stopped dieing. Or rather, people stopped passing on to the Shadowfell and the Astral Dominions of the gods. Instead, they were stuck as ghosts, somewhere in between. Then, whenever a body died, a soul would inhabit that corpse, effectively becoming living again. But the souls that came back were changed. Even the most pious cleric of Bahamut would come back as a raving homicidal lunatic. And while they might be happy with their new existence, there were still millions of souls on the other side of the veil, calling at them, begging them to make them come back. So the killings began.
It was a fight that was doomed to be lost from the start. How do you fight an enemy that can't die. How do you fight an enemy that gets stronger every time anyone dies in pain?
After just 30 years, Feron was no more. Actually, you could say that Ghalton was no more. All that was left of man, was 300.000 people, huddled up behind the enormous walls of the ancient city of Tar'Eldar. Outside, the Reborn, as they were called, were pressing on, eager to take over the last of the living.
Desperation grew, but it seemed that the 7 arch-mages of Tar'Eldar had had the solution for a while. They had (in secret) been working furiously on opening a rift to another world. 25 years ago, that day finally arrived. Almost 300.000 men and women stood in line, with all that they could carry and some more, while the immensely powerful 7 worked their magic in a ritual like the world had never seen before. They were assisted by every arcane and divine caster still alive and in the city . The rift opened, and people started to pour through. For more than 6 hours, people kept moving through the shimmering portal, into the other world. Suddenly, as thousands of people were passing through the portal, there was an explosion, and the rift closed, trapping all the arch-mages and many powerful warlocks and clerics on Ghalton, along with more than 250.000 other.
What became of them, no one knows. Not a word has come through since then.
The survivors found themselves in the new world, that they called Draegor, meaning A New Beginning in Old Elvish. It was a fresh and fertile world, with a mildly hot climate (subtropical), and no sign of other civilized humanoid races.
The first thing that was done, was to find an appropriate place to start over. After a few days, such a spot was located and rebuilding began.
The first city of Draegor was called Drahar, meaning A New Hope, also in Old Elvish.
As mentioned, the building of Drahar began almost immediately. Everyone was put to work by the Council, no exceptions. With hills, river and forest with a ½ mile, all resources were at hand. At first, most buildings were made of wood, and at the beginning only the Cathedral of Erathis and the Town Hall, along with the walls surrounding the city, were made of stone. But the dwarves mined like never before, in order to provide enough stone for the city, and priority lists were made, to ensure that eventually everyone would have a home made of stone.
However, things were definitely different than in the old world. While it was a great unknown world out there, it was much less scarier than the reborn from back home.
Soon it became obvious that some races just weren't suited for living amongst others, at least not in great numbers. In the Year of the Sundering (Year 3) an age-old Elven-Eladrin conflict blossomed up again, and before the conflict changed to civil war, it was decided that most of the Elves and of the Eladrin should leave Drahar, and find another place to live. They both went into the Silent Forest, although not in the same direction. Since then, both races have settled in, and created their own communities, out in the wilderness of the new world.
After the Elves and the Eladrin left, there was peace and quiet for a while. The people of Drahar worked on their city, getting things to work. Exploration was almost non-existent, as the Council feared what they would find. After all, they had all they needed to survive and prosper, why risk running into a hostile civilization? This is not to say that there weren't any dangers. The Silent Wood proved to be full of monsters, and several skirmishes with monstrous humanoids (mostly kobolds, goblins and also some hobgoblins and orcs) did also happen. But they were few and far between.
In the Year of the Clans (year 10), the Halflings of Drahar finally grew too restless to remain in Drahar. Embracing their ancient ways, they left on good terms, clan by clan, and struck out to explore the world.
The next year, in the Year of the Rock (year 11), the Dwarves of Drahar decided it was time to leave for the mountains, to regain their independence, and work some for themselves instead for the humans. They found a place in the Maruum, the Golden Peaks, and called their new home Magyth, the Golden Mine.
Even though the dwarves and halflings left on good terms, their departure were the catalyst for the greatest crisis so far in the new world. Some people felt that they had abandoned the humans, and eventually, those people started to hate all demi-humans. These people, later named the Purists, were led by John Blackhand, one of the more charismatic members of the Council. Officially, pressure grew on the Council to change the law, so that demi-humans had fewer rights and were punished harder. Especially tieflings and dragonborn seemed to be the target of the Purists, since they believed both races should be relegated to slave status, even though both races had played an instrumental part in holding of the Reborn on Ghalton, and in creating the rift to Draegor. The two races had also payed the highest price, very few were left. Not many had made it. Unofficially, press gang were hunting the streets at night, and woe to any demi-human caught out alone, with no guards around.
Soon enough it became clear that something had to be done, and the Council stripped John Blackhand of his powers, and arrested him, without any hard evidence, other than his rhetorics. His people retaliated by breaking him out, and setting a good part of the city on fire. While the fire raged, John Blackhand and his most trusted allies escaped the city, and went into hiding. He came back, claiming it was the will of the gods that he was not to be imprisoned, and that the fire that had ravaged the city was a sign of their displeasure. He went further, and announced that the city was cursed and tainted by the demi-humans, and that he would set out to find a new, clean place to live, and that any human was more than welcome to come with him. A week later, in the Year of The Black Hand (year 14) more than 3.000 adults left Drahar to follow John Blackhand westward, along the Elra, out to the Sea of Hope.
Over the last 11 years, more people left Drahar, some joining John Blackhand in Blackkeep, while others set out to form their own communities, most notably Laketown, whose inhabitants left because they wished to follow King Azar, and not be subject to some pseudo-democratic council.
Then, slowly, the people of Drahar and Draegor reverted to there fairly peaceful existence. But, as usual, the peace and quiet didn't last. One day, 50.000 other refugees from Ghalton suddenly appeared at the Stones of Arrival. They were amongst those caught in the blast that shattered the ritual. They had no idea what had happened, since for them, no time had passed.
Confused and confounded, the new arrivals parted ways. Most chose to live in Drahar (about 30k), while some left for Blackkeep and Laketown. Some even opted for making it on their own. This has been very hard on Drahar, from what you have heard. Most of the newcomers live together in two new wards, the Furnace and the Oak Ward, which is a ward build on the Elra. Wood on water. From what you hear, things are very heated, with many gangs fighting for the dominance of these two wards, while the old and new Draharians are trying to build lasting homes for their new co-habitants.
Now, 25 years after coming to this world, the first generation born here has grown up, and are ready to take on the world. [/sblock]
[sblock=Prelude to the Campaign]
You all hail from Oakhurst, a large village that fancies itself a small town.
Five days ago, you were about to embark on a new life, the life of an adventurer. Dragons, undead and unimaginable treasures were all you had in mind, when you signed on to deliver a message for Mr. Jacoby. Your job was to take the scroll-case, and head south towards Willowwood and find Gadian Redleaf, an elven friend of Mr. Jacoby, and deliver it to him.
Unfortunately, it seems that your career as adventurer is coming to a short end. Three days ago, during your first night in the wild, one of your fellow guards, and an old acquaintance/friend from Oakhurst, Muffin Pebbles the halfling rogue must have fallen asleep during his night-shift, because you awoke with several spears in your face. Around 20-30 nasty little dog-faced scaly humanoids called kobolds had captured the lot of you. Since then, you have been forced along, tied together with your friends, some of them gagged, deeper into the great forest.
Every night, one of the kobolds called A'kar, a nasty-looking little brute with a scar running from the left ear to his jaw, and ears full of silver earrings, comes over and taunts you in broken Common, while poking you with his barbed spear.
I be A'kar!
"You be nothin'."
"You be eaten zoon!"
"A'kar's god likez fresh flesh."
As you progressed further into the seemingly never-ending forest, you were beginning to lose hope. Then something happened. Just a minute ago, several ferocious-looking wolves the size of small horses leaped out of the trees and attacked the kobolds. Chaos erupted, as the kobolds engaged the creatures on the other side of the ravine you were about to cross. Most of the kobolds ran over the broken tree that was serving as a bridge, in order to help the kobolds fighting for their life against the wolves. Only two stayed behind, guarding you and the mules with your weapons.
As the fight progressed, it was clear that many kobolds were going to die. The two guards who had remained behind, move closer and closer to the action, paying little to no attention to you and your comrades. Muffin, who apparently had stolen a fork of some sort, managed to get out of his manacles, and started to free the rest of you. As soon as the mage was free, he used his magic to transport your weapons back to you, silent and without alerting the two kobolds.
But just as you have your weapons in hand, you hear a shout from the kobolds. Looking up, you see that the wolves are dead, and that your escape has been noticed. Many kobolds are dead, but it still looks like there is around 8-10 left alive, one of them being A'kar. With the fresh blood of the wolves all over him, he looks like he will enjoy fighting you for your freedom.
Initiative![/sblock]
