Okay, so, apparently TRF wants to lose the old thread until such time as Dibs sees fit to return. So, as per his request, I have made a new thread. I, of course, don't see exactly why this is necessary, but I suppose it won't hurt anything to accommodate Turf. So, I guess this will just be a continuation of the prior thread with the old characters and we'll pick up where Dibs left off. I suggested that Noob DM this one, but being that he doesn't have any of the source material beyond what's on the internet, he declined. That being the case, if there are no objections, I guess I will be DMing this one. I won't have access to my books myself for another week or two, so if it's okay, I guess I'll be using a homemade campaign. And as far as the campaign goes, expect to see a lot of stuff that's not exactly D&D canon, because, as I said, I don't have my sourcebooks right now. Unless, of course, someone else wants to DM, in which case, I'd be more than happy to step aside. Unfortunately, I do not think that this game will be accepting any more players. This thread is here for the sole purpose of reducing clutter in the other. It will actually be a lot easier - it was getting to be a pain, navigating that other one with all the pages it had(we were almost at 4,000!). To start off, I'm going to request that we all post our sheets(I'll track mine down later) and if there is anyone who would like to DM or has any requests to that effect or which concern the next campaign, speak now or forever hold your peace. Cheers.
"And how do we know that you're not just cunning Bandits in fancy armor?"
The leader catches the money that Alphonse throws to him deftly, and hands it off to a subordinate soldier, who goes and places it in a chest that can only be assumed is a treasury. "Because we're not," he replies simply to Menara. Then he gestures towards the river. "You are free to continue. We will accompany you for as long as we can." He pauses for a moment, then continues. "I am Namble Swiftleg, Squad Leader of the Amnwater Blues. Have ye a healer in your party?" He says, sudden and harsh, as if the request is painful.
"Oh, is that so? Then can I have some proof that you're really the big bad Protectors of the Road that you supposedly are, or is your disguise so hole-filled that you don't have any?"
Oh, come on guys, just tell the guy you have a healer! Technically you could refuse as per the campaign(although you'd be a bunch of heartless *******s if you did), but I'm sort of relying on this storyline to introduce Dibs' character >.>
"Yep, we have a healer!" Montague says before Alphonse. Ha.
Otto smacks him in the back of the head. OQ: "Dumb ***......."
Montague sticks his tongue out at Otihand and tosses a pebble at him before Namble continues. "I have a bit of a story to tell. I ask ye to listen to it all the way through and then decide if ye will help us. Five years ago my battalion, the Second Battalion of the Amnwater Blues Regiment, was sent on patrol into the hills about fifty miles east of the city. There had been reports of trolls attacking farmers in the region. When we arrived, we found a village that appears on no map, the village of Moonhearth. And we sort of fell in love. Ye wonder at that? Tis not so strange. The troll threat was much smaller than expected, and it took little time to hunt down or drive away the creatures. But what was in abundance were sweet, gentle people. Those folk, they kind of fell in love with us, too. While allowing our wounded to heal before returning to Eshpurta, we made ourselves useful; we fixed their broken things, helped bring in their crops, built barns, whatever needed doing. And along the way, we came to consider the place home. And naturally, we even grew to care for the folk of Moonhearth themselves. Some of us even courted and married their daughters. Things were good. Eventually, we had to return to duty, but whenever we are given leave, Moonhearth is the place we go. Many of us now have families there, but even those who don't can appreciate the quiet, relaxed atmosphere. It is truly our home now, even though we might visit there only four weeks out of the year." At this point, Namble pauses and takes a deep, shaky breath. Desperation is clear in his face.
