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Our new Indie Games subforum is now open for business in G&T. Go and check it out, you might land a code for a free game. If you're developing an indie game and want to post about it, follow these directions. If you don't, he'll break your legs! Hahaha! Seriously though.
Our rules have been updated and given their own forum. Go and look at them! They are nice, and there may be new ones that you didn't know about! Hooray for rules! Hooray for The System! Hooray for Conforming!
The game: A One Dungeon Adventure in Paragon Tier Eberron: Little Diplomacy, Much Headknocking The Level: 20 The Point Buy: 22 Your Job: Post what role you want to play in this thread. Then, with the people who get in, hash out a short history of your group as Eberrons finest Paramilitary force this side of Darguun(which means "in Sharn"). You can be as wild and outlandish as you want and integrate yourself into the history of the world as much as you want, it isn't likely to matter. Ill need 5 of you. My Job: To make this work and design some interesting encounters. My Real Job: TPK
Supplements Allowed: Racial Supplements from Dragon, Plus any Eberron race in the MM(Dopplegangers, Goblins, Hobgoblins, Orcs, Gnomes, Shifters). Likely any racial supplement released between now and when the game starts.
Things to not worry about: Dragonmarks, you don't have any. Cool Eberron specific items just describe the base PHB items as if they were cool Eberron specific items.
Things to worry about: Next of Kin, ritual components, Magical Beasts and Monsters of all kinds. Aberrations, Hags(well, only 3 of them), Undead, Rakshasa, Lava.
Time and Place: Saturday Morning EST, exact time TBD, exact date TBD on map tools.
The Fluff: Three days ago the Accord that ended the last war was signed. Yesterday, you and your friends returned to Sharn, beaten, but not broken and only survivors of the Day of Mourning. Today, a haggard looking old man collapsed after beating down the front door to your guild and residence at Deathsgate.
Before he died he handed you a piece of paper with only "57 Mulligan Bone Alley" scrawled on it and said "She's taken them. All 12. She has the Accord. Only you can stop her, you haven't much time". This was most unusual. You had known this man since before the war, the tattoo was unmistakable. This was Pharamond De'Cannith. He would have been 31 next month. The dragonmark which had sprawled across his back and down under his arms had been exactingly flayed from his body, clearly recognizable despite his now sagging flesh.