Frikugh rubbed his soiled hand against his distended belly as it rumbled deeply. He hadn't had anything to eat since Rarg, the boss had swatted him away from the thigh bone he had been chewing on. The bone had been his, he had hacked it loose from the corpse laying by the farmhouse the band had raided and by rights, it should have been his. Just because Rarg was bigger and a little meaner and better with his scramjac than Frikugh was didn't mean he could hog the fresh meat. He rubbed his belly as it growled again and he looked over toward the tree at the fire in the distance. The pinkies over there were in for a surprise...
My campaign will send the PCs back into a world of medieval fantasy with monsters, peasants, fighters, and magic while to maintain as much realism as possible. this will be seen by the economics of the game with the first task of the players having to pay the past-due taxes on their demesne that they have acquired of Castle Gliston, controlling the towns of Foremark, Osgodbym and Boughton. Truly medieval economies, these towns are populated with peasants, serfs, freemen and merchants, bakers, miners, rope-makers, vintners and fullers. All of them generate income and all of them pay taxes to the Queen. These taxes have to be collected and the taxes have to be paid to the Queen. And so the first campaign...
Grimgar, the Dwarf, turned the skewer with the chunk of meat over so that the other side would be roasted by the fire. The halfling cook leaned over the fire, a pinch of spice between his two fingers and said, "The meat will be tastier with a bit of seasoning," and he made as if to sprinkle the ingredients of the bag he had pinched out onto the deer-meat. Grimgar slapped away his hand absently, mumbling, "Don't need flavoring," in a deep rumbling voice. But his mind was obviously elsewhere because his right hand reached down to slip through the strap of his war-axe that lay by his side, his head cocked slightly, his danger-sense prickling the hair on the back of his neck. He twisted on his short legs slightly, the axe-head tapping on the ground.
On the other side of the fire, red eyes peered into the dark framed by a halo of white hair. The head shook slightly as only the man heard the phantom voice say, "There are strangers in the woods." and the man said back to no one in particular in a quiet voice, "I know. I know. I can feel them. You don't have to tell me that." "I'm just saying," the voice said. "You always say I never warn you."
As the PCs travel the countryside, they will encounter the standard monsters and encounters, bandits, travelers, and watchmen. They will interact with those encounters, sometimes violently, sometimes not, sometimes earning the experience they need to learn a new skill, other times just happy to be alive and in somewhat the same number of pieces. all the players will receive tests of the their skills, Rangers, Fighters, Mages, Druids, Rogues, whatever orientation they may be.
Clarissa paused, a spoon just touching her mouth, ladling a portion of the excellent lentil soup Olo the halfling cook had prepared with a touch of spice and leeks gathered from the trail earlier. "What is it?" she asked and she put down her spoon and bowl and glanced about her at the other members of the group. Grimgar had already slipped away into the darkness and she didn't see Ash anywhere. He had, she thought, the most irritating habit of disappearing at the most inopportune times. Glancing over to where Dayne sat cross-legged by the rocks that ringed the fire, Clarissa saw the Dayne's head was down, his hat brim covering his eyes and nose, his lips moving in an incantation Dayne's hands began to glow with an electric blue as he slipped the thin, black leather gloves onto them and grasping his staff in both hands, he sprang to his feet in a single fluid movement, his boots creating a small cloud of dust as they slammed down and he glanced right then left searching for a foe.
Clarissa paused for just a second, then grabbed the lead for the mule Big Nate and said, "This looks like trouble." Olo began grabbing the pots and pans, pouring the lentil soup onto the fire, dousing the flames. "No point in giving the bad guys fire," as he tossed the pots over onto a blanket and slid his sling from his belt, taking a small, lead bullet inscribed "Take That, You Mook!" in Goblin (Dug' Drud Ouu Suug) and slipped it into its sling. Clarissa patted Big Nate on the neck to calm him and said "Just remember. Kick the green ones. OK?" Nate snorted in agreement because he could understand the Druid...
I'll be trying write each weekend after the game and will also try and fill in the background and history of my world as it develops. As the world grows, I am hoping to use Realm Works to create a record of the game. But I want to see how my players can access information with that program. If it is not up to what I want, then I'll be going with Obsidian Portal to create my world's log.
See you then.