On RPoL right now I'm playing in a 3rd edition D&D game, took over a deserted character in a 4th edition D&D game, am playing in a Classic Spycraft game, and am working on a backstory for a character in a Star Wars Edge of the Empire game, plus that religious chat.  I liked Va'a Polemi -- was that how I spelled the last name?  It sounds right.  Anyway, I'm just not a fan of AD&D.  It was my first tabletop roleplaying game, but I've since found other tabletop roleplaying games that I like a whole lot better, like pretty much every other game system. ;)

EotE ... I guess I'll see what it's really like in practice here in a bit.

TWYNDYLLYNGS -- wheel of fortune

http://www.archive.org/details/ird059

http://files.filefront.com/kil...77867;/fileinfo.html

Seriously, we'll all be, "Woah" and "Dude" and then you'll be all "Like totally" and then someone will say when did we become turtles and then we'll all be all "Man, we're like totally surfing these posts.  Like, hang 40(k) which is like totally some sort of retirement thing and totally gnarly, but not quite as much as that radically bodacious 50k is going to be."

Cyberknyght -- GM for that Dragonlance game
Initially starting as a Cleric 1, this is the direction that I plan on taking Omar in: Cleric 1/Fighter 2/Paladin 2/Chameleon 1  Chameleon is from Races of Destiny -- an online writeup is found: http://www.wizards.com/default...20041210b&page=1

“Ah, ah,” Darius said, an exasperated grin on his face, guiding his very young son away from the others, “Omar, what did God say about arguing?”
    “He said,” Omar sheepishly replied, “Contention is of the devil.”
     “That’s right,” Darius responded with a proud grin.  “If we let ourselves get all knotted up inside then the devil has a hold on us.  Now what was the problem?”
     “Well,” Omar started, “Pitir said that we kept traveling because nobody wanted us and that’s why people sometimes come out in the middle of the night and burn our wagons.”
     “And what did you say to that?”
     “I told him that he was lying and that people sometimes burned a wagon because they’re jealous of how we’re God’s people.  Then he said that I was a liar and that you are too!”
     “Was what he said the truth?”
     “No, I’m not a liar and I know that you don’t lie, papa.”
     “Did what he say harm your body?”
     “Well, no, but you know that he’s not telling the truth!”
    Darius stopped walking and pointed at the grass nearby.  “Do you see the grass, Omar, how it bends in the wind?”
     “Yeah,” Omar replied, his bottom lip turning almost into a sullen pout.
     “Do you remember what I said to you about how we should bend in the wind like the grass?”
     “Yeah, but, but what,” Omar stammered, “what about the wind storms, Papa, sometimes it just rips the grass out of the ground.”
     “Yes.”  Darius said, looking out at past the horizon, “Sometimes you must be like the rock and be strong and firm.  The spaces between towns are large, Omar and there are monsters out there, that is why we keep our swords sharp.”
    There was a moment of silence before Omar disturbed it by interjecting, “But, Papa, how do I know when to be what?”
     “You will come to learn, Omar,” Darius said, leaning down to swing Omar up onto his shoulders, “You study the situation as best you can, choose the role and play the part.  Experience will teach you when to be what.  Just remember, experience is what you gain when you learn how to pick yourself up after falling down again.  And how should we get back up?”
     “With a smile,” Omar called out to the grassy plains.
     “That’s right.  Now, let’s go help mama get the wagons ready.”


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Omar grew up in a family of traveling stage performers, moralizing thespians.  Every night near a town they’d set up stage and perform a play of one sort or another.  Always, though, Papa’s word was law.  So was Mama’s.  There was plenty of discussion and give and take in Omar’s family, but when Papa or Mama laid down the law, that was it, any ongoing discussion was ongoing no longer.  Whenever they got to a nearby town, Papa and Mama would slip into the town for an evening of wandering and talking.  They’d return early the next morning with a new play in mind.  A play that the local townspeople would eagerly pay to see again and again.  A play that gave overbearing overzealous stick-in-the-muds their comeuppance with a healthy dose of slapstick.  A play that taught a moral about how a life should be lived, about how people should relate to each other.  In places where such plays were outlawed, Omar’s family simply moved on to places where such plays were legal.  Part of Papa and Mama’s authority lay in their teaching that the law needed to be obeyed, that without laws to protect us society would crumble and fall.  People just needed to be reminded of how to be good.

Of course, one needed to keep a sharp sword in the wild lawless spaces between towns or sometimes even right by a town after a local magistrate or baron or what-have-you decided that if the law wouldn’t punish these itinerant performers, then he would hire someone who would.  Omar thought that he had found his calling, worshipping the three tenants of his life, God and the sword and mild trickery.  That didn’t truly make him joyful though, so he tried to devote himself to the sword.  That didn’t make him joyful, so he tried to live the life of an ascetic.  Although he did find a measure of joy there, a measure of happiness, it was not until he remembered his father’s words and strove to be both the rock and the grass that he found his joy.

Omar has learned how to be good at what he devotes himself to.  Word of his unique abilities came to the right ears and Omar found himself the subject of a request to do a particular bit of study.  A bit of study that could take all of Omar's talents...