"I rode out on a bright May morning Like a hero in a song Looking for a place called England Trying to find where I belong Couldn't find the old flood meadow Or the house that I once knew No trace of the little river Or the garden where I grew
I saw town and I saw country Motorway and sink estate Rich man in his rolling acres Poor man still outside the gate Retail park and burger kingdom Prairie field and factory farm Run by men who think that England's Only a place to park their car
But as the train pulled from the station Through the wastelands of despair From the corner of my eye A brightness filled the filthy air Someone's grown a patch of sunflowers Though the soil is sooty black Marigolds and a few tomatoes Right beside the railway track
Down behind the terraced houses In between the concrete towers Compost heaps and scarlet runners Secret gardens full of flowers Meeta grows the scent of roses Right beneath the big jet's path Bid a fortune for her garden Eileen turns away and laughs
So rise up George and wake up Arthur Time to rouse out from your sleep Deck the horse in the sea-green ribbons Drag the old sword from the deep Hold the line for Dave and Daniel As they tunnel through the clay While the oak in all its glory Soaks up sun for one more day
And come all you at home with freedom Whatever the land that gave you birth There's room for you both root and branch As long as you love the English earth Room for vole and room for orchid Room for all to grow and thrive Just less room for the fat landowner On his arse in his four-wheel drive
England is not flag or Empire It is not money it is not blood It's limestone gorge and granite fell It's Wealden clay and Severn mud It's blackbird singing from the may-tree Lark ascending through the scales Robin watching from your spade And English earth beneath your nails
So here's two cheers for a place called England Badly used but not yet dead A Mr. Harding sort of England Hanging in there by a thread Here's two cheers for the crazy Diggers Now their hour shall come around We can plant the seed they saved us Common wealth and common ground"
Benbo, 3rd level Fighter/4th level Thief - he who dares.
Galzor, 4th level cleric - mysteriously disappeared along with the Third and his coffin.
Zanurax, 3rd level thief (recovering from being partly eaten by a lion and has now gone to join Merlin)
Olaf, 4th level dwarven fighter, now returning to his clan halls
Merlin, 3rd level thief (called away on the business of the Thieves' Guild)
Adthar, 4th level fighter - currently both an Ettin and a statue
Elador, nth level magic-user - called away on special assignments but will act as mentor and adviser to the team
Galadeus, 2nd level ranger - drowned and then eaten by a shark.....aaaaaand he's BACK! aaaaaaaaand he's dead again.
What I'm DMing for 6 new junior players
Old School Links to Wisdom
Give your d12...
...some Old School love
Call of Cthulhu - visit our wiki
That's what Old School means to me
"These rules are flexible and open to interpretation - designed not to cover all conceivable situations, but to allow good Referees and Players the freedom to create and play games of their own design."
from the Lulu download page for The White Box S&W from BHP
"This game is unlike chess in that the rules are not cut and dried. In many places, they are guidelines and suggested methods only. This is part of the attraction of Advanced Dungeons and Dragons"
Over halfway to 90, I started playing AD&D when the Police were a cool band and Punk was wild. I am a father to a ten-year-old Junior Grognard and have now managed to establish a five-strong gaming group made up of him and four of his friends, ages ranging from 10 to 11. Solidly Old-School.
High fives and natural 20s to you all!