[D&D-3.5e] The 200 Word Adventure

[Raylorne]

Game Name: The 200 Word Adventure
System: 3.5 because hardly anyone runs this system anymore.
Flavour: Standard fantasyMint Chocolate Chip.

Summary: Hell with it. I’m curious about this project. Curious enough to take a swipe at running it. The game takes place in an unnamed town and surrounding area. I’m not using maps for the world or combat. Things are always as far away as they need to be. No more no less. The group is a band of adventurers in search of adventure, and adventure they shall find. Fight off hordes of bandits of various racial backgrounds. Sail the seas in search of pirates or piracy. Overthrow an evil regime. Anything is possible because it’s all made up.

Players will be encouraged to make up details about the game world as we go along. Let’s pick a direction and head in it until something interesting happens.

Characters start at level 5 with wealth by level. Nothing homebrew accepted. I’d worry less about the character sheet and more about making an interesting character at this step, but maybe that’s just me.

Expectations on applications not stated, but hopefully are implied. Think of this first step as a test one must pass.

[Raylorne]

I’ll take four players. I’ll give a two week notice before closing the ad once sufficient interest has been obtained. If you’re not a fan of improv you may wish to look elsewhere because this game is being made up as we go.

[doggius]

Color me interested. Something worth waking my old behind up.

Half Orc Barbarian, but thinks he's a bard.

Name:Khul B'hat
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Barbarian
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral


Description: Khul, with his baby blue eyes, looks as though the elevator doesn't go all the way to the top. His muscular frame is shoehorned into a leather cuirass that is ill-kept. Faded runes that look like small human writing dance along the trim of the armor. Long stringy black hair frames his square head. A small canine at the bottom right of his mouth, protrudes a little, leaving a perpetual stream of saliva sliding down his scarred jaw.

Personality: Bright is not what one would call Khul. Loyal, honest, sure but not bright. He does not let that stop him from joining any conversation, from the spiritual to battle tactics. He has the confidence, yet lacks the intelligence. What he lacks in intelligence, he possesses in strength and ability. When Khul is found in a tavern, which is often, he can be found on stage, doing what he calls, singing. It is not revered by the crowds, as his singing voice sounds of cats being strangled, which, in many cases, cause the crowd to turn violent. Telling him no, or to stop, only gives him more gusto.

That being said, he is a good friend to those that are good friends to him, he is loyal and will defend his friends without question.


Backstory
Get ready for the tragic upbringing of our new hero, Khul!

[triedtherest]

I'm interested too.

Not sure of the initial class, but I would like to play as a Merchant who just wants to earn a semi-honest living but keeps in getting dragged into these crazy situations with the party. Perhaps the Noble Class from the Dragonlance Campaign Setting.

Possibly going into the Merchant Prince Prestige Class if we get to a high enough Level.

[Togot]

interested in playing a wizard necromancer who isn't evil and is trying to improve necromancers' reputation

[triedtherest]

It sounds like all three of us would be good at "making friends!"

[orcbane]

The bread at this inn was acceptable. Perhaps a bit stale. But the butter, O. The butter was divine. Jisk would happily leave votives and prayers at the god of butter's temples if it meant he could pat this on bread wherever he went.

All but the one serving girl had given him a wide berth since he entered. He only half listened as the King's tax collectors entered. That's what tax collectors do, after all. It wasn't their fault.

He continued to enjoy the buttered bread, his mug of cool ale, and ignored the bowl of slimy stew they'd served.

Voices were raised. He heard the serving girl speak up on behalf of the innkeeper. Something, something, taxed twice already this year, something.

He heard a gauntlet striking flesh and a body crumpling to the ground. A drop of blood appeared on the table beside the bowl of disgusting stew.

"Da, no!" the girl exclaimed.

She's brave, Jisk thought.

Silence, his sword, was tucked away behind the bar. The innkeeper didn't allow weapons in the common room.

He stood, catching the eyes of the tax collectors and noticing the knives at their belts.

He hurled the bowl of stew.

[Cristal08Darkmoon]

Color me intrigued. I'll start toying with ideas and hopefully get something up this weekend. Or at least the start of something

[Remorazz]

very up for this!

Skin and bone app, but I'll add to it as we focus more the details of the world together.

Ratt WIP Name: Ratt Race: Jermlaine Class: Rogue 2 / Cleric 3 (Olidamnara's Domains) Looks: Weird rat-like humanoid the size of a cat, looks filty. Personality: Occasionally rude, he’s a greedy little fey, but appreciates laughter. His clan shuns the society that surrounds them, treating it like a different type of natural environment, with many big predators, ready to kill you and ready to have food stolen from you, but Ratt has a negative trait that other Jermlaine don't: Ratt likes shiny stuff, a lot. He recently discovered that magic items exist in large quantity in the world, and he wants a lot of those. He still likes fish and fishbones and he'll make a big person look like a fool whenever he can, but more than anything, he loves gold. Backstory: Ratt is the name he gave himself for the big people to understand, because his real name is a series of little squeals. He lived in one of the rat colonies that afflict the Town with a few other Jermlaine but after a some years he grew tired of it and started roaming solo in the jungle... the urban jungle. Ratt began getting himself into rocambolescque adventures in Town, even visiting the outside of Town. He occasionally still visits his pack, after all, family’s family.

[Togot]

Name: Derek Draven
Race: Variant human
Class: wizard specializing in necromancy
Alignment: lawful Good

Description: Derek is a small, young man standing 5’2 and weighing 120 pounds. He wears a black robe gifted to him by his master. His eyes are a deep green. His hair is a short, straight, and as black as a raven’s feathers.

Personality: Derek has a strong sense of justice due to the wrongs that were done to him and his people. He believes that wicked people must be punished, and the innocent must be protected. He is quick to latch on to those who offer him friendship and is fiercely loyal.


Background: Derek started his life in a small village and lived an uninteresting life until a horde of raiders came which slaughtered everyone. The only survivor, he traveled from one village to the next, finding them all destroyed until he met a man with a large undead creature collecting the corpses of the raiders that had been killed. He revealed himself to be Janfadar, a necromancer who agreed to take Derek in and teach him his craft. He taught Derek his rules for being a good necromancer: never turn an innocent person into undead. Now Derek seeks the raiders and to change the bad reputation of necromancers through good deeds.

[triedtherest]

Midas - WIP Name: Midas Race: Gold Dwarf Class: Cleric Alignment: True Neutral Appearance: Tall, extravagantly dressed Dwarven Male, with an almost constant twinkle in his eyes, which seem to glitter like Gold Sovereigns. Dresses well. Keeps a short, well-maintained beard. Personality: Smiles and gesture a lot. Tends to stroke his beard when thinking, which is usually about money! Haggles to the ends of the World, but is honest in his dealings (nobody likes a cheat!) Desires Money, but not at the expense of reputation. Unsatisfied with what he has, always wants more! Backstory: •Born into a wealthy family, which ran into debt after his father allowed the family business to fail while grieving his wife's death. •Turned to Trading in order to restore his family's fortune, as well as to save his father from indentured servitude with the corrupt and greedy King. •Became the party's "go-to-guy" for selling off loot from Dungeoneering. •Shop burnt down by Orcs that took back a holy item that he bought from the Party. •Joined the Party to get enough gold to rebuild his business. •Realised Adventuring is FAR more lucrative than running a shop! •Adventures while operating his new shop from a wagon.

[Raylorne]

If you must roll in your thread then feel free. 4d6 drop lowest is fine.

*First set of rolls binding.

I’ll be up at my Mom’s place all weekend. May not answer questions till Monday, but I’ll probably still pop by the site.

@Orc I wanted you to find this organically, but I would’ve linked in the GD thread eventually.

[leftyyy88]

I'm going to have to pull this one back, too many irons in the fire right now.

 

Lefty's App Name: Frikelwik Clakertak Race: Gnome Class: Wizard 5 - specializing in transmutation and enchantment Alignment: CN Description: Short. His whole life had been defined by how short he was. "Don't worry about it, we're all short. In fact, the big folk are too big, if you ask me. All that stomping about and stepping on us normal-sized folk." Frikelwik's mother chided him often about his insecurities. But she couldn't dissuade him. He piled his bright blue hair high on his head to appear taller than he actually was. He may or may not have worn platform shoes during his rebellious teen years, and probably doesn't own any of those boots now, please don't check his shoe rack. And he constantly wore a dissatisfied look on his face, especially when surrounded by those 'big folk' his mother spoke of. Personality: Frikelwik was never satisfied. He wanted to be taller, faster, and stronger. But he was short, slow, and occasionally had trouble getting the straw out of the little paper wrapper. As such, his face was constantly twisted into an unhappy sneer. Envy colored all his interactions with anyone taller than him. He learned to keep it under wraps because nobody likes hanging out with a sourpuss, but it lurked under the surface, thinly veiled. Backstory: Frikelwik's childhood was a happy one. Until all his friends kept growing and he didn't. Four feet. Five feet. Grusk the half-orc kept going almost to seven feet tall. Frikelwik was only up to his knee. And that fact rankled. Frikelwik poured himself into his schoolwork in an effort to cover his inadequacies. In time he was accepted into one of the magical colleges in the city and he left home to further his studies. He turned out to be a gifted spellcaster, warping and weaving the threads of magic in new and profound ways, often surprising his instructors and the other wizards in his classes. But underneath it all, the burning passion fueling each research project, each late night, each spell demonstration, was his stature. Or lack thereof. On the day of his graduation, his favorite professor gave him some advice. The students had all gathered for a class picture, and Frikelwik had insisted that he cast Enlarge Person on himself before the picture was magically inscribed. The whole group complained but waited till Frikelwik had found his spell components pouch, cast the spell, and then fixed his hair. Thesseldia, the elven wizard who taught transmutation spells, pulled Frickelwik aside before the main ceremony began. "Frikel. You have to let this go. You are obsessing about your height when it's not an issue. There are plenty of great wizards who are small in stature. In fact, it's safer for them. Many times in combat, I wished I were small. I'm an easy target being this tall." She looked sadly up at her magically enlarged star student. Frikelwik frowned. He always frowned, but this time his corners went down even further than normal. "That's all well and good, but what do you do when an angry bugbear rushes at you? Hmm? Wouldn't you want to be able to fight back? I just want to punch him in the face!" "Magic, Frikelwik. Use magic! You've spent 6 years here learning how to shape the fabric of reality. Make him short! Turn him into a parrot! Cast grease under him so he slips and falls! There are a thousand and one things you could do instead of punching him in the face! Shoot, you could turn your fists into stone and punch him!" The gnome sneered down at his professor, the enlarge spell still in effect. "You don't know what it's like. Do you know I carry a wand of cure light wounds with me at all times? Just to ease my aching neck from staring up at all you tall people all the time. You'll never understand what it's like. So don't preach to me about magic." With a flick of her wrist, Thesseldia dispelled the enlarge spell and watched an enraged Frikelwik return to his normal size. "Six years and you still don't appreciate what magic can do. It's a shame really." Not waiting for his reply, Thesseldia left her pupil in the hallway and calmly walked out to the graduation ceremony. After a moment, he calmed himself and followed, vowing to show her, to show all of them, what he could do. Since that day, Frikelwik has grown. Not vertically, unfortunately, but in discretion and knowledge. He no longer picks fights, but he sure does finish them. Wether he is enhancing his height or his strength, or both, he nearly always comes out on top. And now, as new opportunities present themselves, Frikelwik can be the bigger man. He can rise to the occasion, stand tall, and look down upon his enemies in triumph.

[MundayKnight]

Questions I gotta ask:
Any class/race bans? My idea should work either way but always wanna check.

Steve   Name: Steve Race: Anthropomorphic bat. Class: Shadowcaster 5 (Future levels in Shadow Master prc) Feats: 1: Darkstalker. 3: Shadow Familiar Skills: Need to roll dice to know for sure but K (arcana) 5 and K (planes) 8 for sure. Bonus ability point from level four in charisma. Fundamentals: sight obscured, umbral hand, black candle, mystic reflections. Mysteries: Lvl1: Carpet of Shadows, Quicker than the eye, Bend perspective. Lvl2: Black fire. Lvl 3: Clinging darkness Items: Cloak of Charisma +2 4kgp Everlasting rations (MiC) 350gp Headband of intelligence +2 4kgp Remaining wealth: 300gp in precious gems. 33 platinum pieces, 18gp 10sp 100cp. "What's your name... sir?" "Evard's Ebony Eyes was my name before the git went and died. Now I am Steve." "Is that whole thing the name or just Steve? Look I really just need to know what to put on the guest log." "Steve." "Thank you, beds are on the second floor, bars in the back, breakfast is at sunrise, soups on the fire. You have any special food needs you deal with it yourself." Perhaps it was the wings, perhaps it was his giant ears, perhaps it was the bat face, perhaps it was the shadow behind him that insisted on having a corona of writhing shadow tentacles that his body very clearly lacked, perhaps it was just the stench of the road, but whatever the cause no one seemed willing to approach him as he made his way, painfully slowly, to the bar. The tender tried his best not to look at Steve while taking the order and Steve, spiced mead in hand, was happy to not be gawked at by the consummate professional. He once more slowly trundled across the open floor, this time to a table that became conspicuously absent of people just a moment before he sat down, and drank the speckled amber fluid thoughtfully while looking into the fire. The flight into town has been uneventful on the whole, only one group of wayward adventurers had stumbled upon his daytime camp and Bob had let him know well in advance that they were going to so he simply hid in the rafters till they left. On the road it was all too common for someone to see him and think he was a monster. More than a few city guards had thought the same but usually he could talk them down to just taking him to the Captain of the Guard and a few quick promises not to go into a crowded area and cause a panic or fly in town usually smoothed things over. There had been a few occasions where that didnt work and he had to beat feet but when you are a three foot tall bat-man it comes with the territory. Bob hopped down from his puch under Steve's wing and lapped at the mead a few times before carefully preening his feathers. The raven had been with him since Evard's death and it seemed very likely the dusky familiar was a fragment of his former Master's soul but if so he was certainly one of the friendlier fragments though not so talkative as the powerful wizard had been. Two cups had come and gone before another patron approached his table. The fire had burned low but still its warm light played across the elf's curious expression giving it a sense of kindness that was unlikely true. "Hello friend. If you have questions feel free to sit and ask them, if not I'd rather be left to my thoughts." The elf took a seat in the blink of an eye and just as swiftly quill and parchment were produced. Ohh great, another scholar writing about monsters... "Hello my name is Ikeboll Treesong and I've heard tell of Evard the Black's former familiar traveling this direction. You wouldn't happen to be it would you?" Even better, an Evard fan boy. Gods be merciful and give him a heart attack quickly. Despite his annoyance Steve saw no use in denying the obvious. "I'm a he not an it. You can call me Steve. No I don't know how he came up with his spells or the secrets to how to cast his ebon worm, I burned his spellbooks per his instructions and his..." "You misunderstand me sir. I came to learn about you." Steve stopped short and tilted his head at the Elf, nobody wanted to hear about him unless it was how Evard had warped him into his current form but the Elf's face showed only earnest interest. "Uhh... sure? What do you want to know?" "Let's start at the beginning. Where did you come from before you were bound as a familiar?" The unexpected turn had tripped him up but only for a moment as he thought back to the time before he was him when they were them. "Well Evard was a real nasty piece of work at heart so he didn't just take a minor extraplanar spirit and mold it into a shape. Something that simple was beneath him even in his youngest days. A part of me was just a regular bat. Bat life was great, I mostly just sipped nectar and ate bugs. Every now and then me and one of my cave mates would take down a small bird or a little frog but mostly bugs. Had a couple litters. Had to hide from a dragon one time but I think it didn't much care that we were there in hindsight. The other part of me came from the plane of Shadows. We were a trio of shades, barely more than shadowstuff but faintly conscious of ourselves. We got trapped in a summoning circle Evard had made and were stuck for a week before he brought me to the room we were in. He put me in a cage and put me in with us. The cage kept us from killing me and slowly pulled us into me. After a week we and I had become me again. I realize that is all terribly confusing but it's hard to explain it more clearly." "No, no. That's quiet alright. Please continue." Steve finished his third cup and put it to the side, Bob dained to grace them with a gentle caw as he half-woke af the movement. "Once I was Evard's familiar it was all 'be my eyes in the darkness' and 'eavesdrop on those fools.' Evard was the most paranoid man you've ever met so most nights my only job was to wake him if anyone entered his home. Even servants who were supposed to come and go I still had to wake him and let him know when they left so he could go back to sleep. I will admit he probably had more assassination attempts against him than most but still, it was exhausting. I was with him for around two hundred years or so before finally his magic could no longer sustain him. In his last year of life he began making me into this. I think his plan was to trade bodies with me but the final spell to warp my flesh into this proved too much and his heart finally gave out when he finished it. Since then I've done my best to help out people I run into. I know that's not very exciting for the former familiar to one of the greatest Wizards to ever live but not all stories are so grand." The elf continued his frantic scrawl for a few seconds before dusting the parchment and smiling at the strange little bat-man. "I must disagree, your story is grand beyond measure. What are the chances the former familiar of Evard the Black would become a kind and compassionate soul? Such a thing is truly fascinating. Thank you for your time Sir Steve and I hope you enjoy the article I will be putting in the local newspaper. Fascinating and grand indeed." With that the Elf clapped his hands and put away his things, scurrying out the door with a speed born of the utmost excitement. "Not a bad way to spend an evening I suppose. Not a bad way at all." "YET!" Bob's sudden scream rent the air and sent the nearest patrons into a flurry of shock but it seemed whatever dream held the little raven no more exhalations were imminent.

[Raylorne]

As long as you can provide a link. Nothing homebrew.