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Moving House and D&D
Jul. 5th, 2007 05:09 pmSooo. A new house.
A nice house.
A *spacious* house.
An awesome house.
I'm happy.
There is a resurgence of energy in the Theresa land. This is undeniably a good thing. Managed to run a D&D session from scratch with approximately an hour and a half's preparation last night - including world-building and random NPC-gen. Bit of a slow start, but it seemed fun enough - am considering turning this into an ongoing campaign of moderate length. Glad everyone took it at least vaguely seriously - it's quite hard, I think, playing first-level scummy peasants, without falling into the trap of either entirely missing the point or quoting python until at least half the group members have turned homicidal.
So...stuff about the game world:
The PC's come from a quaint little farm village called Meadow Barrow (God that's so lame it hurts). This cute little cluster of houses with obligatory tavern (where the PC's DID NOT START OFF, AND INSTEAD VISITED ON THEIR OWN VOLITION! Ha! Eat it!) and central shrine to Pelor, is approximately the least interesting place in the world. The only vague excitement to be gleaned from this place is the occasional throughfare from canal-boat travellers or road-going merchants.
Running north-south is a branch of the great river - a trade artery between the shining White Citadel to the north, and the Riverguard to the south. Surrounding the Meadow Barrows are several square miles of watermeadows, silt flats and fields, and then to the West is The Forest. It doesn't have a name. It doesn't need a name. It's *The Forest*. There are other forests around, but this one's name has just kinda stuck. When you refer to The Forest, you do so with capital letters. It's rumoured that if you should stray from the path and listen ever-so-carefully in the darkest patches of gloom-infested thicket, you can hear the whispers of the watchers - the ancient guardians and protectors of life and death left behind from the beginning of creation to watch over the world.
To the North the ground rises up into hills and wooded pine plateaus. Beyond the hills is a great plain, and upon that plain stands the White Citadel - an ancient (and insular) bastion of order and the primary force of defense in the region. But this is near a hundred miles away - nobody ever goes there. Well, more correctly, nobody ever goes there and comes back, with the exception of the merchant caravans and canalboats who regularly pass through.
To the south is Riverguard - a fortress of sorts that stands atop a cliff overlooking the meandering great river. Rumoured heavily guarded, it has suffered from internal struggles in recent times. The current head of operations (if you can call them that) at Meadow Barrow is Farmer Duncan Stewart, beholden to Lord Riverguard.
A nice house.
A *spacious* house.
An awesome house.
I'm happy.
There is a resurgence of energy in the Theresa land. This is undeniably a good thing. Managed to run a D&D session from scratch with approximately an hour and a half's preparation last night - including world-building and random NPC-gen. Bit of a slow start, but it seemed fun enough - am considering turning this into an ongoing campaign of moderate length. Glad everyone took it at least vaguely seriously - it's quite hard, I think, playing first-level scummy peasants, without falling into the trap of either entirely missing the point or quoting python until at least half the group members have turned homicidal.
So...stuff about the game world:
The PC's come from a quaint little farm village called Meadow Barrow (God that's so lame it hurts). This cute little cluster of houses with obligatory tavern (where the PC's DID NOT START OFF, AND INSTEAD VISITED ON THEIR OWN VOLITION! Ha! Eat it!) and central shrine to Pelor, is approximately the least interesting place in the world. The only vague excitement to be gleaned from this place is the occasional throughfare from canal-boat travellers or road-going merchants.
Running north-south is a branch of the great river - a trade artery between the shining White Citadel to the north, and the Riverguard to the south. Surrounding the Meadow Barrows are several square miles of watermeadows, silt flats and fields, and then to the West is The Forest. It doesn't have a name. It doesn't need a name. It's *The Forest*. There are other forests around, but this one's name has just kinda stuck. When you refer to The Forest, you do so with capital letters. It's rumoured that if you should stray from the path and listen ever-so-carefully in the darkest patches of gloom-infested thicket, you can hear the whispers of the watchers - the ancient guardians and protectors of life and death left behind from the beginning of creation to watch over the world.
To the North the ground rises up into hills and wooded pine plateaus. Beyond the hills is a great plain, and upon that plain stands the White Citadel - an ancient (and insular) bastion of order and the primary force of defense in the region. But this is near a hundred miles away - nobody ever goes there. Well, more correctly, nobody ever goes there and comes back, with the exception of the merchant caravans and canalboats who regularly pass through.
To the south is Riverguard - a fortress of sorts that stands atop a cliff overlooking the meandering great river. Rumoured heavily guarded, it has suffered from internal struggles in recent times. The current head of operations (if you can call them that) at Meadow Barrow is Farmer Duncan Stewart, beholden to Lord Riverguard.
