I'm right there with you as far as novel length posts go, Yana. Can't wait to see this group in action.

P.S. Pepper's write up had me rolling! lol

Thanks!

Oh serious question, Olan how common is reading and writing? How common are journals and keeping them in this world? Been too long since I was Audalis immersed to know.

I'm going to need some help with the actual character sheet as I'm a 3.5/Pathfinder person primarily. Here's what I have at the moment

Name: Aedan Autumnshand
Race: Human
Class: Rogue (Bard)
Alignment: Neutral Good

Stats: STR 12
DEX 14
CON 13
INT 16
WIS 10
CHA 15

Physical Description Eyes: Blue
Hair: Thick, Black, and short.
Skin: Tan from years of work.
Height: 5' 9"
Weight: 140
Age: 23

Flaw(s): Stammers when intimidated.

Background: A cart rattled out of Wilwarin one day, its load of fresh apples from Lockshir Orchard bound for Ashfall Castle. A watchful crow might have spotted amongst the red fruit a flash of blue. Aedan had, in his estimation, stowed away masterfully and now was headed for adventure. He couldn't quite reach his pen or the fresh journal he had picked up just the day before, but if he could he would have written a song about sweet smells and of hooves on a well-trod road.

That night he slept the best sleep of his life. The clueless merchant had made camp by the banks of the Moss, and the river made a pleasant rumble that carried him off to the dream lands quickly. Of course it wasn't the most comfortable bed in the world, and his dulcimer made a horrible pillow, but at least he didn't have to spend one more night in do-nothing Wilwarin. As he close his eyes, he thought of the backbreaking, thankless work in the orchards, of Laora and Albin. Aedan was only thirteen, but he knew what slave labor was. Even if they were his adoptive parents. The cramps in his legs and back were a small price to pay for freedom.

He awoke hours before dawn, drenched and freezing. His eyes snapped open, and to his surprise the moonlight illuminated not the backsides of apples, but an extremely irate man in his nightclothes.

"You snore like a damned owlbear. Now get outta my apples. Don't want another stowaway eating up my profits," the merchant said, bodily lifting the boy out of his merchandise.

"I can explain," began Aedan. He had managed to suppress his stammer. "I was..."

"Trying to get out of Wilwarin? There's no need to explain that, boy. What you need to do is explain to me why I shouldn't tie you to that tree and take off for Ashfall alone. I assume you don't have any money."

Aedan shook his head vigorously, knowing the man was trying to give him a chance. A thought arose, an exciting prospect. "I, I, I can play! I'll play and sing songs for you, I'll write a song about you, the noble merchant who, who, who saved me from a life n, not worth living!"

The merchant looked unconvinced. He glanced toward the sleeping horses and the remains of the campfire and sighed. He looked to the stars and rubbed his temples.

"That won't do. Can you tend horses?"

Aedan smiled, a gesture whose power he hadn't yet discovered. "I can tend horses, yes sir," Aedan said, finding his tongue again. "I can tend animals, hunt and fish, make fire, heck I can drive if you'll let me. "

White teeth shone from behind the merchant's thick black beard. He chuckled and tossed the bucket he had been holding to the side of the cart. "Don't oversell it, boy. Name's Jon White. Go warm yourself up."

It was the beginning of a long friendship. Aedan spent several years traveling with Jon, earning what he could playing the dulcimer in this town or that tavern, but in truth he always looked to the next journey afield. No boastful knight could tell a tale that would satisfy his longing for a real experience. The lure of gold held no sway over him but if he could write a song, no, if he could write THE song that would be remembered a hundred years hence, he would face any army. Then one day, he got his chance.

Personality: Aedan doesn't consider himself a hero as much as a chronicler. He's seldom the first to draw a blade; although he prefers to inspire his allies with song, he is quite capable in battle as well. He is always making notes, whether in his notebook or mentally. This can lead to him coming off as a rather distracted, but the truth of the matter is he's usually just trying to find the right adjective to describe the bandit's sneer, or figure out the exact shade of that dragon's scales.

When it comes to personal interactions, Aedan is quick with a smile and a joke. Having spent a number of years with the merchant Jon White taught him much about how the mind works, and as a result he can sell anything. Like Jon, he tries to be understanding of everyone he meets. He doesn't hold grudges, and if he meets someone in need, he does his best to help out.

...are we gonna get to see any lute-solo battles around the campfire?

I'll see what I can do about helping you "translate to 2e," Schnozzle. Let me see what can be seen with your base stats and I'll PM you in a bit.

Name: Irel Mithenye
Race: Silvari
Class: ....Fighter?
Actual Class: Wizard, Militant Wizard Kit

What the party would know by now:
Irel looks and acts first like a guard.
No, really. She gives off a vibe of "Any moment now, she's going to ask me to check my bow, blades at the front gate and warn me not to cause trouble..."
She's a half-way decent fighter, though nothing extraordinary.
Very country by birth and long years. Some references, politics, manners, etiquette, go right over her head.
Vastly smarter then she first appears, judging by her nose stuck in books.
May or may not have some shown some minor magical ability at this point
She makes no serious effort to hide that she's Silvari.
She's in Ertain looking for someone.

Full Monty Background: Irel got her start as a common but loyal child in a small house of farmers and servants in Megilindar Nos, Maelamin. Raised up in the shadow of the greatest warriors the Silvari had to offer, the Bladesingers, she honed her fighting skills everyday to dream of taking her place amongst them. To serve the empire faithfully against any and all foes. Her brother was more lackadaisical, quickly earning a reputation as a troublemaker - chasing the local skirts all around town.

Over the years, each time the opportunity came to apply to serve among the Bladesingers, her skills fell short of their standards. She eventually became part of the local guard. While she served well in those circles and earned a fair rank, it did nothing to sate her deep disappointment. She watched over her kinsman patiently and trained while her brother's wandering ways took him into the caravans far abroad.

Time passed. Her brother dragged himself home at last and was accepted back into the family. The siblings forgave each other their long absence and found a quiet night of drink. In their drunken haze, her brother revealed the true reason for his sudden return. The fool had managed to knock up a human woman in his travels through Ertain, and fled back when the woman and her family had come looking for his caravan to get him married.

An angry bar fight broke out that left a tavern trashed, and the siblings once more no longer speaking. Her brother, because she broke his jaw. Irel took to the road not long after, determined to fix her idiot brother's misdeed. Find the woman, the child, and see them safely back to the family home. With no more information then the name of the country, a vague idea of how old the child might be, and the name of a town she might find help.

The city of magic, Felarin, didn't hold the answers she hoped for. Those mages willing to take pity on her didn't have ability to find a child with no information whatsoever. But where they couldn't help her directly, her long-dormant magical talent might. Savings from a decade upon decade of guard service was enough to pay for basic training at the school. More time passed during her magical learning, even as she became dreadfully impatient to seek out her forsaken kin once more - the promise of the vast, unknown world also lay temptingly before her.

Where a Silvari alone on the road seeking a human woman and her half-breed silvari child might draw a lot of attention and fewer answers. One traveling with a group of adventures with a good reputation and more coin in her pocket might loosen more lips.

Personality: She is harshly self-critical, quick to hold herself responsible for failures, even when she was not responsible. Her weapon skill was earned through hard labor, not natural talent, and laziness irks her. But despite her harshness, she has a kind heart for those in need and a strong personal sense of honor to those she feels responsible for. A new book will devour her time not spent in martial training, sharing a good tale or cracking a terrible joke. She's a bit "country" and ignorant for a Silvari at times, but she tries.

Goals: She's still looking for the lost family somewhere in Ertain, but she needs money and allies to do so. Patience is the name of the game. The world outside of Maelamin has been fascinatingly alien, despite the hostility she sometimes encounters. Her adventures have been scratching an itch she never satisfied when the Bladesingers denied her. At this point, she's not sure she'll stay in Maelamin once she sees to her brothers lady and child.

Appearance: Irel has a short crop of platinum-blonde hair and bright violet eyes, usually under a light helm. Broad in the shoulder for a Silvari, well muscled from decades as a guard, calloused hands from sword, bow and scribe work. Her typical attire very much resembles that of a common guard, fighter or mercenary. Simple unadorned armor and weaponry in plain brown and black colors.

Age: 150ish

Wizard, kit: Militant Wizard. She is locked out of the conjuration/summoning, necromancy, or greater divination magics.

Strength: I will hurt you if I hit you.
Dexterity: I'm a fair hand at dodging people, yes.
Constitution: She can survive the sniffles, but she won't walk away from a rockslide
Intelligence: Vastly smarter then she looks. Luckily.
Wisdom: Are you really a bard, Pepper?
Charisma: Not all Sylvari are naturally pretty, eh?

Concept: Lost family, justice, purpose.
Honors Lysora, Kith-Jora, and Merca.

Actual stats stuff still to come! I haven't had time to finish spells, equipage and THAC0, but making progress.

**Character Name**: Gret "Hammerfoot" Darald
**Character Race**: Khordaldrum (Dwarven)
**Character Alignment**: Lawful Neutral Leaning Evil
**Physical Description**:
*Eyes* Brown
*Hair* Long, gray, and braided
*Beard* Long, gray, and braided
*Skin* Ruddy red
*Height* 4'4"
*Weight* 163 lbs.
*Age* 208
**Flaws**:
Limp
Usually Drunk
**Character Stats**:
*Str* 15
*Dex* 8
*Con* 18
*Int* 14
*Wis* 17
*Cha* 15
**Character Concept**: Cool-headed team dad healer with a slight drinking problem and a weaponized prosthetic foot.
**Character Personality**: Strong-willed, soft-spoken, and charismatic (for a Dwarf). He never assumes the role of leader, but will eagerly accept the role of advisor or second in command. He is open, loving, and calm, even to his enemies, but will not hesitate to commit a warcrime if it means saving a teammate. Torture, brutality, and violence are all part of his repertoire, despite what his calm demeanor belies. He is quiet on the outside, and his mask of paternal love hides the anger, pain, and turmoil that lurks beneath. Even you, his trusted friends, have only seen snippets of his dark side.
**Character History**: Drafted into military service as a combat-medic at a young age, Gret lost his foot in battle. In its place was affixed a hefty-hammer head, which serves as a daily reminder to him of the horrors of war, but also his strength in the face of terrible loss and tragedy.
-----------------------
The pain was unbearable. Gret craddled the stump that was once his foot. Gret looked up, up into the eyes of the brute who had attacked him. A huge beast of an orc wielding a greataxe, the warrior was triumphant and flaunting his victory. In this, Gret saw his opportunity. He drew his backup hammer and drove it into his enemy's kneecap, which shattered under the adrenaline fueled blow. Gret poured all of his anger, hatred, pain, and, yes, fear, into this assault. The orc crumpled, and Gret's allies, a human and three dwarves, descended upon the barbarian. The orc was dead in seconds, flesh rended from bone and bone shattered into a million pieces. Gret grinned, blood soaking his beard. The lust for death had only just been seeded in him, but it would flourish in his broken, twisted soul.
**Worships**: Kharox (Art of Olorfarluk, the World Carvers)
**Languages**: Khord, Apanonese, Sylvari, Chakrandrum
**What You Know**:
He was once married, but his wife died.
He has no children.
He's always up for a beer and a chat.
He will always listen to your problems.
When he does, your problems tend to mysteriously disappear. Violently.
He loves life.
He is celibate.
No one ever seems to cross him twice.
He is not prone to visible anger.
**Gear**:
1 Cassock
1 Holy Symbol
2 Sandals
1 Holy Book
1 Chainmail
1 Heavy Steel Shield
1 Foothammer
1 Warhammer
1 Backpack
4 Light Hammers
50 ft. Silken Rope
1 Journal
1 Quill
1 Inkpot
5 Weeks of Rations
1 Jug of Beer
6 Tankards
1 Bottle of Scotch
4 Flasks of Holy Water
1 Waterskin
2 Shotglasses
2 Cracked Wedding Bands
1 Belt
1 Belt Buckle
1 Belt Pouch
1 Spell Component Pouch
1 Flask of Zhan-vunlgen

**My D&D Experience Level**: I've played plenty of Pathfinder before, but never AD&D. I'd love to learn, though.
**Character Sheet Status**: Not even started yet

Hey guys, I just wanted to know if any of you wanted to set up a skype chat or email convo. If so, just PM me. We'll sort it out.

Okay Gang

I have enjoyed reading the character info from all the other Players, but I am still 'hammering out' the details for Vengador.

Specifically, his appearance and gear, plus his background.

I seemed to have 'hit a creative wall' this afternoon, so I will 'hammer out' the details hopefully sometime Thursday and no later than Friday.

The creative skills of all involved in this Third Incarnation of this particular Olan Adventure certainly has me amped and stoked to get the game underway!

...this is gonna be a fun group!

I'm already itching to get us killed... er... I mean hide in the bushes while the rest of you get killed... NO... Wait... I really mean "get us on the road to adventure"... Yeah... that's it.

...reading Amara's character write up reminded me of something I started working on for Audalis a while back. The Dragons of Saieliel... I may just need to get back to work on that!

Hey Gang

Just got home, so now I am working on Character Description and Background this afternoon.

I will send it to Olan for approval before Posting here.

Got some things worked out with Olan this morning before I left, so I have enough things ironed Out with our illustrious DM for my Creative Juices to finally kick back in to further develop Vengador.

Looking Forward to Adventuring with You All Soon!

Hammer

Okay Gang

I think I have finished the List of Equipment etc but am going to go over it Friday before submitting it to Olan.

Still have to finish writing the Bio Background.

Should be Much Shorter and More Concise than what I usually write for my Characters.

Will have that done sometime Friday to submit to Olan before Posting to the Q&A.

Had too many interruptions Thursday afternoon and especially Thursday night.

My Apologies for the Delay

Hammer

I have a feeling, our group is going to be awesome. Full of awesome. And looking forward to reading about em Hammer!

Well Gang

Almost done writing the Bio Background for Vengador

Seems to have turned into a Novella of sorts

Still writing some important specifics

Then I will double check his Description and Equipment

Finally, I will re-edit the Bio Background, before sending it to Olan for approval.

It should be well worth the wait my friends

Hammer the Word Smith