Third party may be allowed if it’s very small, but classes won’t.Ĩ. Anything else that is Paizo published, ask me. As well, Advanced Class Guide Playtest classes will be allowed upon request. The Core Rulebook, Advanced Players Guide, Ultimate Magic, and Ultimate Combat are all kosher. or do not want? What are your rules on 'prestige' and/or homebrewed classes? Are there any particular character classes, professions, orders, etc. How much gold or other starting funds will the characters begin with?ħ. Level 1, ready to begin the long trek up the experience ladder!Ħ. What is the characters' starting status (i.e. It’ll be done on these forums as Play by Post.ĥ. What's the gaming medium (OOTS, chat, e-mail etc.)?
I’m seeking an absolute maximum of seven characters, but more likely I’ll go with five or six.Ĥ. How many Players are you looking for? Will you be taking alternates, and if so, how many? The Player’s Guide can give you more information on the setting, as can the Pathfinder Wiki (just google “pathfinder wiki” to find it).ģ.
The campaign is set in Golarion, specifically, the Immortal Principalities of Ustalav. historic period, published or homebrewed campaign setting, alternate reality, modern world, etc.)? "Shadow Chasers" or "Agents of Psi" for d20 Modern)? What is the setting for the game (eg. What 'type' or variant of game will it be (i.e. Pathfinder RPG! 3.5e materials will not be allowed, unfortunately for those who are fond of them.Ģ. What game system are you running (D&D, Call of Cthulu, Palladium, GURPS, etc.), and if applicable what edition (Original, Classic, Revised, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 5th, 10th, etc.)?
With a grim silence about him, Lorrimor stands and makes for the door, taking a last glance through his study's window at the looming, empty prison: his destination, and his doom. 'I, Petros Lorrimor, being of sound mind, do hereby commit to this parchment my last will and testament.' He pauses, quill poised over the page.
In the dim, wavering light of his single candle, he writes. It will be tonight, if it is true, he knows.īreaking his gaze away from the distant silhouette of the prison, he draws a sheaf of parchment from a regal oaken desk, seating himself at it. He adjusts his neat silver hair and high-collared black coat. His long face darkens, tightens he barely breathes. Its walls are blackened, pitted, with rusted bars like clutching fingers around what windows there are.įrom the window of his stately country-house, atop a hill lined with black pines, a man watches the wind rush across the land, and up to the walls of Harrowstone. Below it lies a pale village, sparse and sleeping, and beyond that, the great prison of Harrowstone. The moon lingers high in the sky, as if unwilling to draw closer to the earth, nothing more than a sliver of ghostly light behind the banks of clouds. A cold wind blows in from the North, and the darkened moors and fallow fields shiver with its touch.
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