My 25 house rules

[Man in the Funny Hat]

In a surprise round, people are flat-footed until they get a chance to attack. Rogues can sneak attack the flat-footed.
...
Let me know if you see any glaring, game-breaking holes.

I'm just wondering what about this is a house rule. Is this not RAW?

Oh, and this is the most important part of my house rules: http://home.earthlink.net/~duanevp/dnd/manifesto.htm

 

[aboyd]

I mostly just don't like the term "Barbarian," because I'm fairly new to D&D (only 8 years) and don't come with any prior edition sense of the word/class. To me, the class always represented a type of warrior and fighting style -- hitting hard, entering a frenzied state, literally "toughing out" blows rather than using heavy armor, living off the land -- than a social group.

I tend to think of barbarians as lawless versions of Gwalchmai, from the book Hawk of May. In other words, the body undergoes some kind of genetic transformation -- there is something actually physically changing in the person's body, not just being tough-minded. Here are a couple of quotes.

Agravain lowered his spear, and began trotting about the circle again. I did the same, waiting for him when he turned his horse nearly backward and came up with a swerving course. This time I reined suddenly as we approached, bringing my horse rearing to a stop. Again everything contracted about us, and I felt even more clearly the wild lightness in my mind. Agravain was almost beside me, and his spear, aimed at my left thigh, was close. I beat it out of line with my shield, turning my horse and allowing his weight to join mine behind the spear as I thrust at Agravain's side. Again, he fell; again his horse ran on, this time into the circle of warriors where it was caught.

Agravain rose to his feet. He was no longer scowling, but staring in total bewilderment, like a man who has seen the sun rising in the west. The madness was still on me, and I did not wish to speak, so I sat silent and unmoving, spear ready, and waited.

Agravain went and got his horse, remounted, leveled his spear. I rode to the opposite end of the circle and nodded.

He came at me immediately this time, at a full gallop. I hurled my spear, blunt end first, as he came, and rode on drawing my sword.

The spear hit his throat and glanced off, though he would surely have a bruise to show for it; had I thrown it tip first he would be dead. He almost fell as it hit him, but recovered in time, keeping his spear straight. His thrust as we drew even would have struck me through the ribs to the right of my shield, had it touched me -- but I hacked at the shaft with my sword, and it snapped. Time froze, and I lifted the sword before Agravain's horse could complete another step. The light was burning in the blade, and I was filled with a strength which seemed hardly to be my own. The world looked as though it had been etched on bright steel.

He was drowned out by a crowd of warriors and servants who thronged about us, shouting congratulations and praise. It was too much for me. I had felt worn and bewildered before, and could only shake my head vaguely.

"I think I must indeed have fought like CuChulainn," I said to Agravain finally. "He went mad in battle. And I... don't remember..." Lugh's blessing, I thought. Yes, this sweet madness was given also to his son, CuChulainn. Again I shook my head to clear it, wishing that all the people would go away. "But I am not a divine hero like CuChulainn, Agravain. I am tired. Can you make them be quiet?"

"You had better go and rest now," said Gruffydd, the surgeon I had first spoken with. "Unless... you did have something you originally came here for?"

"Nothing -- well, a scratch. I only wished to guard it against the rot."

"A wise thought. Let me see it."

He looked at the cut and shook his head. "Indeed. What made you think that this was just a scratch? It goes down past the bone, here and here."

"Does it?" I was surprised. "It didn't look that deep, and it scarcely hurt at all."

"Well, it doesn't seem to have bled much... Cadwallon, get some salve and a bandage." He paused, glanced up at me, "You are not a berserker, are you?"

"A what?"

"A berserker. It is a Saxon word; it means one who goes mad in battle. Their strength is double to triple what it is normally, so they are dangerous men."

"I did go mad in the battle. How could you tell?"

To me, I suppose a barbarian could be made from some divine infusion, but primarily I see it as a state of the body, a physically different being than the rest of us. Thus, it cannot be acquired any more than you or I can "learn" to regenerate limbs like a starfish.

Of course, in the D&D world, people can regenerate limbs like a starfish. So, hmm.