>>17432768
Rowan first met William on a cold winter's evening, where the castle of Karal was hosting a feast in honour of the oldest son having returned from war with the nomadic tribes in the west.
William had been kicked out after asking one too many questions about the men his brother had brought with him, and so decided he'd instead have his meal on the battlements.
As it happened, I was on guard that night, more of a formality than anything else, but still cold as all fuck, and hungry, since the castle staff was too busy serving the nobles to be able to get me anything to eat.
Well, in walks William, sixteen and carrying a plate of food like I'd never seen in one hand, a pitcher of wine in the other, and my mouth started watering.
I guess he didn't see me before he sat down to eat, but I still figured I'd ask if he wanted to share any of that.
He almost leapt off the damn wall, and I practically had to pin him to the ground before he stopped trying to run away, but he finally calmed down after I managed to introduce myself and tell him I was from the guard.
He said he'd let me eat all I could if I could take his mind off the feast, and I figured my father had told me enough stories to last a night back when I was a kid, so I started talking and eating, talking and eating.
Eventually, it gets late, my shift ends and William is about to fall asleep then and there, the wine not helping to keep him awake as the kid wasn't exactly a strong drinker.

>>17432772
So we part ways, and he promises to come visit me when he has the chance.
I shrug it off, of course, figuring he'd either forget about me entirely, at best, or that he was having a laugh at my expense, but I still tell him that I'll look forward to it. And what do you know, he actually shows up a week later, food in one hand and wine in the other, asking for more stories.
Almost a year passes, and William asks his father to have me assigned as his personal bodyguard, which the old man happily agrees to, thinking his son is taking a keen interest in his own safety.
I start teaching him to fight, not the airy nobleman's sort of fighting, gently tapping each other on the shoulder, but real fighting, stick against stick, 'till one of us gives up or lies bleeding on the ground.
And I have to say, he had talent.
Within six months, he's more than a match for me, and I voice my idea that, whether he believes it or not, he's destined for great deeds.
Barely three months later, in the spring of his eighteenth year, rumours circle the castle that Helena, one of the daughters of the neighbouring duke, has her eye on William.
Now, Helena is quite a pick, and when William tells me, I laugh, pat him on the back and drag him down to the inn, telling him about how I'd hate to see him embarrass himself on the wedding night, and that he could do with some practice.

>>17432792
He turns red as you wouldn't believe, but still, I tell him to just take it easy and have some ale while I'd let word slip that he was the duke's son, and the ladies would be throwing themselves at him.
“And besides”, I say, “You're better looking than I am.” Which wasn't a lie, tall, blonde and handsome that he'd become.
We have a blast at the inn, he gets his fill of ale and women, and he even insisted I teach him some of the, ahem, tavern songs that people were occasionally shouting out.
We agree to make this a weekly trip, and when we finally realize that Helena is not only completely uninterested in William, but already married, he's come to know and love the common people, “His people” as I frequently assure him, even more than they've come to know and love HIM.
This doesn't go unnoticed by his father, and the oldest son, who expected to inherit the duchy, grows at first nervous, then downright paranoid that William is trying to steal his inheritance right in front of his eyes.
He manages to convince His Highness that William's good nature could be put to better use serving not just Karal, but the entire kingdom, and reluctantly, his father accepts, ordering William to be sent away to join the paladins at the tender age of twenty.

>>17432807
I accompany him through four gruelling years of training, and, while I didn't possess the “spiritual qualities” necessary to become a paladin with him myself, I still spar with him when time permits, and try my best to keep his spirits up as he transforms from “simply” being a Noble's son with a bit of skill with a stick, to being the finest damn paladin I ever laid my eyes off, becoming a full brother at the age of twenty-four and leaving to go help the world.

It was at the point that we joined the rest of the party, consisting of Drogen the dwarven barbarian, Ava the elven ranger, and Simon the human wizard.

>>17432815
The party meet in an inn in the capital of the kingdom, the city of Arval, where William is attracting a lot of attention by virtue of being a paladin who knows his drinking songs, something that leads Simon to at least trust him somewhat, with the rest of the party being friends of his.
After some introductions, the party agrees to collect the bounty on a local bandit lord's head, and win up staying together afterwards, going on a great many adventures over the years.
I stay by William's side the entire time, following his orders to the letter as he in the past proved to be a good friend, and later, to be an equally good commander.
Drogen and Simon, representing opposite ends of the “brain versus brawn” scale, have several very loud discussions, but slowly form a close friendship as they begin to realize how well the complement each other.
And Ava, over time, seems to grow from merely being impressed with my dedication, to actually becoming close enough that I consider whether we may have a future together, when the party settles down.

>>17432829
Eventually, the party is tasked with slaying a particular necromancer who has been plaguing the kingdom for a long time, and after slaughtering our way through countless undead, we finally find him in his private chambers, apparently mid-audience with someone, as he smashes the enchanted mirror he was sitting in front of as soon as he sees us.
The battle that follows is beyond what I can describe, with Drogen almost dying on at least three occasions, and Simon at one point running out of usable spells, resolving the instead charge the necromancer with his staff.
Shortly after Simon's charge, which earned him a great deal of respect from Drogen, the necromancer is felled, and the dynamic duo decides that it's time to loot the necromancer's residence.
The rest of us follow, mostly because we didn't want to see them hurt in case they ran into something, but also because, hey, loot is good.
Eventually, we find a completely empty room with a single orb resting in a pedestal in the center.
Simon recognizes it as a dark artefact of some sort, and has Drogen smash it before the rest of the part can have a word in the matter.
The entire party falls to the ground, screaming in pain as it feels like an invisible force is tearing at their skulls for several seconds, but none share William's terrible visions, of his home burning to the ground and his people slaughtered at the hands of the nomads his brother fought over a decade ago.
It soon passes, and while the rest of the party quickly recovers, William's mind is filled with the whisper of the necromancer they just killed, claiming to know the only way to prevent what William saw.

>>17432838
William, naturally, is shocked, but retains his calm until we get back to town, at which point he and I leave the party to find a scryer, so as to see if the vision had any ground in reality.
As it turned out, it had.
The nomad tribes are preparing for war, gathering on a piece of land just across the mountains from Karal, and with this new information, we head to the inn where we'd agreed to meet the party.
William tells them he has to leave, of what the scryer showed him, but nothing of what happened in the necromancer's home, and says that he doesn't expect the others to come, nor does he expect to need them.
Simon and Drogen shrug, sad to see him go but not exactly reduced to tears.
Ava, perceptive that she was, can tell right away that William will not be coming back, and that I will be leaving with him, and gives him a long, heartfelt goodbye before letting me speak.
Without having to think about it, I tell him that we've seen it through together so far, and damn it, I wasn't going to let him take all the credit for saving our home.
He gives a faint smile at this, and in the morning we make our way north, to the northernmost duchy in the kingdom, while the rest of the party start on the week-long journey south, to the kingdom of Dourel, which has been troubled by draconic invaders for a while, and which was probably willing to pay handsomely to have said invaders disposed of.

When William and I arrive and present our case to the duke, he almost immediately turns us down, saying he has better things to do than listen to a discarded son rambling about a non-existent invasion.
The next duke gives us a similar speech.
As does the one after that.
Time passes, and as we travel far and wide in search of just a single lord willing to help us, it becomes clear that there are none to be found.
Unable to raise an army in time, and unwilling to give in to the whispers in his mind, William turns to his last hope: The king.

>>17432846
When we are finally permitted an audience, we enter the king's throne room only to see several of the nobles we'd already visited at his side.
We knew how it was going to end before the king opened his mouth.
Desperate but out of options, William takes to wandering the city streets for close to a month, almost falling on several occasions, with myself walking behind all the way, trying to cheer him up and assuring him that, no matter what happens, he did better than anyone could have asked of him.
One morning at the inn, however, he is nowhere to be found.
By luck, and a bit of bribery to loosen a few tongues, I find that William has already left, heading north-west, and I hurriedly make my way after him, determined to at least find out why he's left me behind after all this time.
I catch up soon, as his horse is just trotting along, and demand an explanation, feeling let down and angry that he'd abandon me, perhaps his closest friend, without as much as a note.
He sighs, then tells me everything.
Of the vision, when Drogen shattered the artefact, of the voices that followed, and of how they were now guiding him, promising him the key to saving his home.
I punched him, then and there, and asked him what made him think some damn voices were going to make me leave, especially at a time like this.
He just gave me a sad look as if to suggest that, whatever was coming, it was something he was going to face on his own.
That it'd be best if I turned back now, before things turned ugly.

>>17432856
Despite this, during the almost seven days we rode together, in silence, towards his goal, he didn't try to leave me again.
Eventually, we came to a mountain, and started climbing, soon reaching a gate to what turned out to be a giant necromancers' lair, carved into the mountain.
William slammed the door open and demanded to see their master, and the nearest apprentice just bowed, saying the master had expected to see him sooner, and alone, but that he was welcome regardless.
I was instructed to wait while William was with the master, and was shown a room.
I spent close to a fortnight waiting, the apprentices bringing me food and water, until finally, William emerged, only, changed.
He fetched me, and told me we were riding to Karal right away, saying nothing of what had happened behind the oaken doors I'd seen him vanish through.
We rode at double pace the entire way to Karal, buying new horses when our old ones were nearing death, riding through the night and sleeping in the saddle, a sense of urgency in the air even though no news of invasion had reached our ears.
When we finally arrived, our fears were confirmed.
Karal was burning, the castle crumbling, and the bodies of the dead laying in piles or shallow graves, as nomadic barbarians feasted on stolen food and drink.
William roared and charged into the revelling horde of barbarians, and despite the fact I was certain it would mean our deaths, I followed, my mind filled with hatred for these vermin who had destroyed everything and everyone I'd known and loved for my entire life.
Whether by the grace of the divine, or because of William's new powers, I can't say, but within an hour, we found ourselves surrounded by the dead, with any remaining nomads having retreated to inside the castle, barring the gate.

>>17432867
It was then that I realized the full extent of what had taken place in the necromancer lord's den, as William called out to the dead of the land to rise up and retake what was theirs.
An army of undead gathered within minutes, thousands and thousands of both the recently slain and the long deceased shambling together into a great horde at our backs, arming themselves with whatever weapons they found, whether the nomad's sabres and bows, or farming tools and posts as makeshift clubs.
I was amazed, frightened and confused at the sight of all this, but none of it mattered.
If vengeance meant necromancy, then that was what would be done. Explanations could wait.

The fight lasted less than an hour, as the undead broke in wave upon wave at the gate, and poured into the castle through secret tunnels and passageways, and the last nomads were soon slain and reanimated, their leader dragged before William, who spat in his eyes before driving his sword through the barbarian's throat.
He then turned to me, and made me an offer the likes of which I'd never imagined.
I could take poison, he said, and die a quick, painless death, and summarily be reanimated as a sentient undead, with free will and identical looks, and serve him in death as I'd done in life as he took his vengeance on those who had wronged him, with a share of his new powers.
Or I could leave, go south and find the rest of the party, and take my own path from there.
The choice was mine, he told me, as a reward for my service to him. None other would be given such options.
I told him that there was no doubt in the matter, and swallowed the poison in seconds.

The transition was like blinking. I truly cannot come with a better metaphor.
We had barely taken back Karal before William ordered the attack on the neighbouring duchy.
Payback, he said, for not aiding him in Karal's defence.

>>17432880
Quickly, duchy after duchy fell to our forces, until we were outside the formidable defences of Arval herself, besieging the last city in the kingdom to finalize our revenge.
Messenger pigeons flew off towards every corner of the world as soon as we came within sight, the desperate call for aid from a dying kingdom.
One, we knew, was bound for Dourel.
There would be no rescue for Arval, however. Dourel, then home to the only people who could hope to challenge us, was over a month's journey away by horse, and Arval, formidable though its defences were, and tenacious its defenders, fell after three days of constant assault, its citizens paying the blood price for serving a fool.

It is winter now, and Arval fell two months ago.
Adventuring parties have come, but the original flow has now slowed to barely a trickle, as only the most brave of Dourel's adventurers are still on their way.
William has declared himself king of the dead, moving vast forces to the ruins of Karal, his home once again, in order to finally purge to nomads to the west, and take their lands for his glorious kingdom.
I still serve him, faithfully and vigilantly guarding his castle against any would-be assassins and adventurers.
As the order goes, each was killed on discovery, then raised as another tool of William's will, although there is a single group exempt from this order of on-sight-termination.
Should this group appear, or even a single of its members appear, they are to be brought before William and given an offer, of sentient servitude or peaceful death, for services rendered.
The party consists of a dwarven barbarian, a human wizard and an elven ranger.

That's it.
Came out longer than I'd expected.

Anyway, I'm off for 15-20 minutes.
Enjoy.

>going to nobles for help
>instead of paladins

Both of you suck in terms of forethought.

>Suiciding to serve best friend
>embracing going after the other duchies instead of taking the barbarian lands

This is even worse.

Good story. Good flair for the dramatic. Traditional deal with the devil type of thing. Good campaign, if this is anything to judge by.

Whole path of the vengeful Necromancer King as well. Dark powers leading to twisted morals and such.

>>17432906
A noble's son looking to nobles for help? Preposterous!

Awesome story OP, THAT is what good roleplaying really is.

>>17432906
An army of paladins wasn't really possible in the setting the GM had come up with, since paladins were relatively rare.

On the other count, fuck if I know, I wasn't roleplaying William.

that is a good story.

Excellent story. Anyone want to save as image form?

>>17432768

Is that a Hyena the size of a horse?

>If any of you have a story of your own you would like to share, by all means do so.

There is the story of my disfigured ex-death squad Paladin on the path of Redemption, but it's nowhere near as detailed or elaborate as your character's backstory.

>>17433149
It's a slaver, (mainly) from the fluff of EVE-online.

More specifically, the picture is the art for the story at:
http://www.eveonline.com/background/potw/default.asp?cid=05-05-08

Being an eve player, I thought it fitting, in a way.
Also I heartily recommend the chronicles as a decent read to pass time.


>>17433154
Do tell.
The thread needs to keep moving, and I enjoy a good story.

>>17433149
It's a space-dog from EvE Online. They're used by the Amarr to keep Minmatar slaves in check on plantation worlds. In the story that picture was a link to, that fucking thing tore three men apart when they threatened the kid.

They're called slavers.

>>17433182
Ah, misremembered that story. It only tore up one of them.

Polite sage for my inattentiveness to detail.

So, wait.
Paladin is the new BBEG?

>>17433258
Pretty much.

>>17433179

The story of Silas Korvan began like too many who'd turn to a path of banditry and foul deeds; born into abject poverty in a small border town, he was horrified of the prospects of living in a town that was increasingly hostile towards him (he began to have the telltale signs of a latent sociopath.)

His opportunity to leave the village came when a mercenary band calling themselves the Red Hands came through, looking for "fresh meat" to aid them in one of the many wars going on in this world. Silas jumped at the opportunity eagerly. The Red Hand had an infamous reputation for taking the jobs other groups would refuse, and the Red Hands at that time were heading out for a terror campaign against a rival kingdom.

Silas proved a natural for this, and before long became something of a champion amongst the Red Hand for his toughness (he has a Con of 18.) Each new scar a new trophy amongst the women, gore and plunder of each village they ravaged.

The penultimate encounter that changed his life however, was when he came upon a village defended by a Paladin in gleaming plate armor. The Paladin demanded a one-on-one duel with the best amongst the Red Hand, and if the Paladin won the village would be spared. It was obvious who the group picked.

The combat was fierce as both opponents seemed their equal, until the Paladin managed to get a vicious slash in on Silas's left side of the face, slicing his entire left cheek in half, grinding down to the bone across his left side before terminating at his temple (his eye was spared however.)

(Pic is supposed to be Silas pre-injury, during his merc days.)

>>17433296

This enraged Silas, who fought all the more aggressively until he had the upper hand. As the Paladin lay there dying, he begged a simple request from Silas as he handed the necklace he was wearing over, "Don't let your legacy be this" he said, coughing up blood, "please, return my armor to my Order in Samaril."

Of course, Silas obliged by stripping the man of his armor and keeping it as a trophy, from then on wearing the necklace (unknowingly it was +2 Wisdom.)

As the war died down, the combination Paladin's words, necklace's aid in giving him wisdom and insight, and life of nonviolence allowed him time to reflect on his life up until that point, and it began to sicken him for the things he did.

He was actually ready to end his life in the way so many before him fell; at the end of his own sword when he caught sight of the Paladin's armor and remembered the final request, "Return my armor to Samaril." Given a new sense of purpose Silas finally set out to do what he promised to do so many years before.

It was to his surprise then, when the Order not only accepted the armor back, but accepted Silas into their ranks, training him as an instrument of terror against the vile instead of the righteous, "using a monster to fight monsters" as Silas would say.

>>17433330

Today, Silas now goes by the name Pretian of Samaril, a champion of Alseta on a personal mission to redeem the man behind his mask.

Before he joined up with the rest of the party, he was on a personal quest to hunt down and systematically wipe out the rest of the Red Hand, which is still very much alive and still as horrible as he remembered it, "Once my comrades are dead" Pretian said once to the party while resting, "My sins will be known just to me and the Divine."

He currently wears a breastplate (he plans on "earning" his full plate, but metagaming wise it's an excuse for me to work into giving him some totally tricked out armor) and iron mask, which is as much for philosophical reasons as it is for security concerns (there are still people out there that would recognize him, and in fact one of the party members is a man he personally tortured while a merc.)

A story of a man. A lonely man. A man raging into the darkness. The darkness of the internet, the uncontrollable anonymity of 4chan's 'Traditional Games' board.
It was on this board that our protagonist vented his frustration. The futility of his life and dullness of his existence were secondary issues. With both hands on his keyboard the man channeled his rage and loneliness into 5 short words, valuing the convenience of brevity more than anything else:

"I don't have a group."

He slumped, exhausted, into his chair, his body empty of all physical sensations save for the slight tickling of the hairs on his neck. The man felt he had emptied his soul and completed the most trying of his journeys since making the morning's breakfast. It was over.

The void of the internet, a silent entity incapable of sympathy, raged on without him.

>>17433391
I pity you, truly and deeply.
I wish I could be of more help.

>>17433370
I liked it, and I'm looking forward to reading what happened next, in a few months.

Anyone else have anything to share?

>Ask for game stories
>Post own story to start off
>Apparently people feel intimidated or something, I don't know
>Only one story posted (And thank you for that)
>DepressedOP.png

I mean, really.
I'm almost worried none of you guys play.

>>17433927
Well you called me out OP.
Now everybody knows my shameful secret.
I hope you are happy.

>>17434011
No.
Just more sad.
I'm afraid I'll reach critical sadness soon.

>>17434016
Will this cheer you up?

>>17434046
It would, but I had to have my cat put down less than a month ago.
Now, I feel nothing.

>>17434061
Hawkward. Don't tell me you had to put your hawk down too?

>>17434077
They used a hawk to put my cat down.


Which is an idiom meaning "No" where I live.

>>17434061
Oh god, Now I feel even worse.
What about this?

>>17434097
Better.
Much, much better.
Now if only more than one person felt like contributing, I'd ride the whooping bus back to happyville.

Cheers. My cute image folder is elsewhere.

>>17434104

I actually have a story I'd like to share, but I'm not sure I've got enough time to type it up.

Just to give an appetizer, it features something akin to this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oASNe0FC8A4

>>17434126

>>17434061
>>17434077
>>17434080
That was easily one of the funniest exchanges of talk I've ever read ever.

>>17434139

So now it's animal time?

>>17434133
(I'm writing this a post at a time, so please, be patient)

So basically, the GM had decided he wanted to run a grimdark low fantasy campaign, and had invited several of his friends to participate.
We show up, look eachother's character sheets over, mostly finding what you'd expect.
Me, the Bard.
Chaotic neutral rogue.
Lawful neutral wizard.
And, to top it all off, there was the chaotic good cavalier.
Now, this guy didn't fit in at all, his backstory essentially being ripped directly from A knight's tale.
Nobody else noticed, and I figured fuck it, we need some good up in this grimdark, so I didn't say anything.

Now, we roam around the countryside for a while, and eventually, we find ourselves in our first town.
The cavalier (whose name was, simply, Tom) immediately asks the GM if there's a tournament in town, for jousting etc.
The GM looks at each of us, and I nod enthusiastically, and he shrugs and goes "Yeah, there's a tournament".
So Tom says he wants to get in.
We sign him up for the jousting tournament, pooling a fair bit of our funds to rent him a horse, and in he goes, lower leveled than most of the other participants, with shitty armour and a rented horse that should've been killed years ago.

>>17434209
I buff him to hell and back, and the wizard and rogue do their best to help out, too, blinding his opponents at just the right time or cutting stirups to within an inch of breaking point.
And by the grace of the dice gods, Tom manages to actually win, which was impressive even in a small tournament amongst shit nobles.
So, as we're going to collect our prize, an official comes over and asks to whom the prize shall be dedicated.
Tom stands around going "uh" for a while, until finally I jump in and, in my most pretentious voice, go "Can't you tell? This is the famous Peter von Lüneburg, survivor of three crusades, the banisher of heathens and the most skilled jouster of his homeland?"
The official, being about as interested as your average teenaged wal-mart employee when it comes to his job, just shrugs and goes "Alright. Just step out on the grounds when I call your name and you'll be handed your winnings."
A couple of minutes pass, and Peter von Lüneburg is called to the jousting grounds, and out he steps, beaming with pride as he is handed his winnings.
The amount of money isn't impressive, but it's enough for him to get a proper horse and a decent set of armour, as well as to keep us fed and housed on the way to the next tournament, some four days' travel away.
Of course, we immediately agree to follow, being interested in seeing where this winds up.

>>17434269
This goes on for several tournaments, with the combination of our levels rising enough to match "Peter's" opponents, and me, the wizard and the rogue's help tipping the balance enough in Peter's favour that he can reliable win any tournament he enters, with his help from the dice gods.
Seriously, I've never seen a guy roll that well.

So Tom is off living the dream, jousting and playing knight all day erryday, and the rest of the party is allowed to spend all the gold he doesn't need, which usually winds up being drained by our new habit of ordering a healthy serving of ale with a side of whores no matter where we went.
Eventually, after about two seconds and a whole lot of "LÜNEBURG! LÜNEBURG!" later, the GM decides it's time to advance the plot a bit, and tells Tom that he's starting to notice a particular woman taking a keen interest in him, for the past several tournament.

He describes her as fairly good looking, blonde woman of 5'8 with a certain charm about her, and Tom immediately gets the hint.
Before the final joust, he rides right up to her seat and shouts, "Milady, if it is not too much to ask, may I have the honour of accompanying you to the banquet tonight?"

I immediately move near, and begin a song of the glory, the skill and the bedroom flair of the great and mighty Sir Peter von Lüneburg, and the woman laughs, if not outright wooed then at least amused, and agrees to come, with her chaperone, of course.

>>17434356
Tom's actions at the banquet were acted out in private with the GM, with the rest of us getting drunk (as per usual) and spending his winnings on whores (also as per usual).

When Tom came back, he said nothing of what had happened (leaving us completely in the dark), and merely said that the woman, Elizabeth, would be present at the next tournament, as well, and had agreed to grace him with her company on that occasion, too.

And so we continued, the supporting trio living the high life whilst Peter continued his quest for love, until eventually, the GM apparently had enough, and had us all conscripted for some huge war, because the setting is grimdark, damn it, and we were going to respect that!

And so we went off to war.
Tom, or rather, Peter, became known as an expert commander of knights, leading dozens of victorious charges with a skill that won many a battle for our kingdom, and eventually, the enemy defeated, we went back to tournaments, beer and women.

Soon enough, we ran into Elizabeth again, but as it turned out, another man was now wooing her as well, him also a tournament champion.
The two met in private, before the tournament, and agreed, somewhat reluctantly, that the victor of the tournament would be allowed to court Elizabeth, with the other leaving for the tournaments of another realm.

>>17434427
There being no real competition for the two besides each other, they were soon face to face in the tournament finals, each giving a brief nod as an acknowledgement that the deal was still on.
The joust went on, and on, and on, neither able to score a victory, until finally, Tom rolled a 20 like the lucky fucker he was, and hit his opponent square in the face, sending him flying off his horse.
He jumped off his horse, pulled the other man out of the dirt, and on that night, proposed to Elizabeth, claiming he could wait no longer, lest the next war take him.
She agreed, and after the arrangements were complete, the marriage was held.
The party, of course, attended, and managed to make a ton of noble contacts for later jobs, but still, feeling a bit sad that their stint of tournaments were over, and, in all honesty, unhappy to see Tom go, having come to like his view of the world.
Regardless, Tom promised us that we'd always be welcome in his new home (fucker had bought a castle with tournament money he'd saved up in secret), and that he hoped to meet us again in the future some time.

With that, Tom's player rolled up a new character, Tom now retired from adventuring, and the party continued on, loaded with gold but feeling oddly empty.

We're a few years after that now, with the campaign still running.
While we haven't heard from Tom in any real way per se, the GM has hinted that he's had at least a couple of children and is living happily, and we have a feeling his kids will show up in our next campaign.

THE END.

Can love bloom on the lists?
Yes it can.

>>17433121
You asked.

(A bit late, I know)

>MFW none of my campaigns so far have lasted more than ten sessions
>MFW I may never get to participate in stories such as these
I almost wish I wasn't playing at all, rather than this.
Being allowed so close to the tantalizing fruit of a great campaign and an awesome roleplay, so close you can smell it, almost taste it, only to have it RIPPED AWAY BY SOME FAGGOT GM WHO WANTS TO PLAY ANOTHER SYSTEM FUCK YOU WHY WON'T YOU LET US FINISH OUR CAMPAIGN ASYHTFNGCFHC VXG!