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*Sits down at the head of the table, checking to see if any nurses are nearby. Seeing none of them, he scratches his beard and takes out his dice bag and a well-noted ancient copy of Tome of Horrors*
Hey! You guys!
Yeah, you. Come on, let's play some D&D! I got the...
*looks carefully at his adventure, then stretches his arms to see better*
...Tomb of... Ummm... Borrors here. Yeah, you can borrow my dice.
*pours out a bunch of miserably useless dice of severely mismatched colours*
Now, you will need a character, or you can't play! Lunch won't be for a while yet, so I think we are safe for a while. C'mon, a bit of age is no obstacle to playing!
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Bludgeoning attacks have no effect on the Gazebo! You need an axe! Or fire!
Guys! We need a balanced party. Will you play the Fighter, Ness? And you, Gas, you play cleric?
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ugh, it smells like gold bond and impending death in here
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*The Gazebo seems confused, then hangs a holy symbol on its light fixture*
Ah, you can play the magic-user, Monty!
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I HUNGER.
AM HEALER heals good.
We will start at level 1, of course. But we need a thief too.
Okay... you need to decide on your backgrounds too. And decide on a group name. Once that is done, it's lunch, the nurses will break this up. Then it is time for my ear cleaning treatment.
(Signing off for a while. Feel free to keep on.)
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ONCE, I SLUMBERED.
NOW, I LIVE.
BEWARE, COWARDS!
I HUNGER!
RUN! RUN!! RUN!!!
ROOOOOOWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRR!!!
IS BACKSTORY.
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Beautiful backstory, Gas.
|
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I never wanted to be a wizard. I wanted to be a soldier, proudly serving my country like my father. I had an aptitude for archery. Finally, they supposedly caved in and sent me to a remote archery dojo. I was excited, adopting the moniker "Monkchinegun". Turned out it was a wizard's tower, but he cast Hold Person before I could run. Regrettably, I learned magic, but the bow never stopped being my love. When i heard an opportunity to use my newfound "powers" for good, I came here and was attacked by this Gazebo.
How about our name is the Silver Beat Alls?
Excellent, Bab and Ness.
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I AM HEALER. I LEARNED TO HEAL AT AN EARLY AGE. NOW I HEAL FOR ADVENTURING PARTY.
Don't forget your tracker.
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I am a wizard too a fire specialist. "Arghh I am now on fire again."
He steals other things.
Okay people. My ears are washed now. I think we have good backstories all around. Alissa needs one too. Clerics need to follow a God, or they only get first- and second-level spells. And we need a name for the group.
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I FOLLOW HEALY GOD OF HEALING.
Okay. One cleric of Healy. Gas needs a God too.
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Too late. Hips are both replaced. They said sitting on my wallet was probably what bunged them up.
Come to think of it, Gas can decide on a god later. Shall we begin?
*puts down an incomprehensible, fifty-years-old homebrew map on the table after peering at it*
You are all sitting in a tavern in Brainton, pulling back ales. This is where you meet,
*points at one faded spot on the map that appears to show nothing of significance*
It is a late evening. The bard for the night is playing and flirting with the buxom barwench. Some commoners are sitting playing dice at a table. A large notice board is beside the door out.
What are you doing?
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Mine is a tragic story of woe. It started the day I was born. My mother was a poor country girl and my father was a lich... When I was 2, my mother... Sorry, I always get emotional when I recount that part of my life. Maybe I will tell you later. Anyway, when I was 10 my best friend was... Lets just skip that part for later. At 16, my father aranged a marriage between me and...
Forget the backstory. I am here to kill things.
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I am getting drunk and picking fights with anyone who looks like they had a better life than me.
Lovely backstory, Alissa. You can fill those things in as we go. Very similar tude.
The bard is playing his...
*rolls dice, checks table*
...rebab. It is an instrument, anyway. He is sitting on his wallet. The buxom barwench doesn't have money, so no wallet. She seems to have had a very sad life. The bard looks pretty happy, though. The commoners couldn't afford wallets, given they only have 2d3 coppers each.
*belch*
Hey you, jester playing the whatchamacallit. How about a tale about adventurers facing impossible odds with zero chance of coming out of it alive.