The trees were green. Well, mostly green. Greenish. Mainly at the top. Then brown and gray and yellow and a mix of other tree colors but, on the whole, green.
Plod, son of Gorm, cousin of Floog, great uncle of Oibenewhoop, drinking buddy of Bill the Undying, tuned to his good wife Name-Withheld-By-Request and did intone:
?So, what to do about the kids then??
The tiny logging village of Dunny on the Wode had a problem. The staggering fecundity of the villagers had lead inevitably to a point where the residents couldn?t see the forest for the woodsmen. A generation of children with few skills beyond swinging an axe were coming of age at a time when axe-swinging was no longer a viable career path, at least not within the greater Dunny municipal region.
Name-Withheld-By-Request considered her husband?s question carefully. Dunny on the Wode was peaceful enough, but other places were less so. There were places, so she?d heard, where swinging an axe could lead to fame and fortune, as opposed to repetitive stress disorders and an unfortunate shortage of digits as was (in her experience) more common.
?I hear they?re looking for mercenaries in the ten towns. Nice work in the outdoors, killing goblins and such. Good pay. Two, maybe three gold pieces a month. And that?s nothing to sneeze at.?
Plod considered this carefully. Indeed, he wouldn?t find any satisfaction in sneezing at two or three gold pieces. And goblins and orcs were well known to be truly pathetic combatants, their vast armies regularly destroyed by small groups of passing apprentice swineherds or the odd ill-tempered blacksmith. Perhaps it would be a good idea to send a likely group of village lads and lasses to wipe out the goblin-kin and make their fortunes (that is, make the fortunes of the village lads and lasses, not the fortunes of the goblins, who could do for themselves like everyone else). And if the village youngsters failed at their quest, well then, at least there?d be a few less mouths to feed come winter.
?That?ll do Name-Withheld,? said Plod, ?that?ll do.?
CHARACTERS:
Flasheart Persuivant
Male Aasimar Paladin 2 / Fighter X, LG
Str:18 Dex:14 Con:16 Int:6 Wis:6 Cha:20
Starting Feat= Rapid Shot
Skill: Concentration
Party Role: Primary tank, Archer
Identifying Quote: ?Woof!?
Brave and true and sexy as hell (just ask him), Flasheart trained as a woodsman. He was only slightly hampered by his complete lack of woods-lore, being strong as a bull and nearly as bright. The fathers of eligible daughters (and husbands of young wives) breathed sighs of relief when Flasheart ?volunteered? to head for the ten towns.
Notes: Not really an odd multi-class, but I wanted a solid tank, and I?ve always liked Paladin/Fighters.
Edmund Blackadder
Male Human Paladin 1 / Sorcerer X, LG
Str:8 Dex:10 Con:12 Int:18 Wis:10 Cha:18
Starting Feats= SF: Evocation, Snake Blood
Skills: Alchemy, Concentration, Diplomacy, Spell-craft
Party Role: Primary blaster, walking encyclopedia.
Identifying Quote: ?I have a cunning plan.?
Edmund would love to be truly Evil, in the great tradition of his ancestors. Sadly, his raw intelligence and sense of self preservation prevents him from following that path. He knows for a fact that the gods are real, that death is another country, and that it?s a very unpleasant country indeed for those who fail to follow a sadly limiting set of rules. He might not like it, but better to follow those rules than to spend eternity as a demon?s codpiece. Blackadder was apprenticed to the village apothecary and worked in the forest with the village lads, serving his fellow man and hating every minute of it. He accepted his place on the party heading to the ten towns with his customary cynical devotion to duty, and looks forward to taking out his frustrations on any goblin-kin that crosses his path.
Notes: I?ve criticized this character build in a few threads, so I thought I?d finally test it out. I doubt that the save bonus will be worth much to a sorcerer, but it?ll be interesting finding out.
Katherine ?Bob? Tinker
Female Human Rogue 1 / Monk 1 / Druid X, LN
Str:8 Dex:18 Con:8 Int:18 Wis:18 Cha:6
Starting Feats= Rapid Shot, Dash
Skills: Hide (to
, Move Silently (to , Disable Device (to 15), Open Locks (to 15), Search (to 15), Spell-craft (to 10), Concentration, Wilderness Lore (to 15)Party Role: Thief, Scout, Archer, Back-up Blaster-Healer-Tank
Identifying Quote: ?You?re not completely happy are you??
When the family tinkering business fell on hard times, Katherine?s father suggested that she find some way to add to the family coffers. Disguising herself (unconvincingly) as a boy named ?Bob?, she sought work as a hunter and guide. Her lack of social skills forced her to learn to defend herself with her fists against the village lads, and constant conflict forced her to become progressively more introverted. She sees the mission to the ten towns as a chance to make a new start.
Elizabeth Melchett
Female Human Barbarian 1 / Mage X, CG
Str:18 Dex:10 Con:18 Int:18 Wis:6, Cha:6
Starting Feats: Iron Will, Luck of Heroes
Skills: Concentration, Spell-craft, Knowledge Arcana, Alchemy
Party Roll: Blaster, Backup Tank
Identifying Quote: ?Do you think my nose is cute? Think carefully; I have an axe.?
Bigger, stronger and smarter than most of the men in the village, Elizabeth was also gifted with a fabulously bad temper and a staggering arrogance. She?s always seen herself as the defender of the younger children, and has pursued this calling mainly by instilling absolute terror in the older village boys. She agreed to travel to the ten towns in the hope of finding a library with more than one book.
From Mina Scribner?s ?Through Icewind Dale With Staff and Axe?:
I first met the remarkable Dunnykin on route to the quaint (i.e. poor and ill maintained) and scenic (i.e. surrounded by dangerous wildness) little town of Targos. I had overindulged in a Luskan dockside tavern, only to be press ganged into a large group of ?volunteers? headed for the north. Goblins and other humanoids were once again ravening their way through the ten towns, and we were Luskan?s response to the problem.
The apparent leader of one small mercenary company (the company known by the perhaps unfortunate name of Dunnykin) was simply the most beautiful man I?ve ever seen. Huge and blond, he sported a toothy grin that nearly made up for his inability to frame an introduction more subtle than ?Woof! You?re sexy! Let?s shag!?
From Edmund Blackadder?s collected letters, with the kind permission of the Blackadder Foundation:
Dear Master Dibly,
Arrived safely in Targos, joined by strange young elf woman who seems to have attached herself both literally and figuratively to our Flasheart. Found town infested with goblins, killed them. Creatures bore striking resemblance to young Baldric, though perhaps better groomed. Met local lord, who behaved in an insanely rude and ungrateful fashion. Typical aristo. Uncovered evidence that goblins are backed by person or group possessing considerable magical and material resources. Will investigate further. Learned that polite protests that we could not possibly accept rewards are taken literally by local complete bastards. Earned just over one thousand gold pieces through pay and looting. Spent cash on equipment. The five of us are now off to drive small army from bridge area. Tried to explain absurdity of this proposal but was roundly ignored. Will write again soon,
Regards,
Edmund
NOTES ON PARTY PERFORMANCE AND ALTERATIONS:
The party is doing well so far, but they haven?t yet reached the first really challenging areas. Because of the amount of skill overlap between Edmund and Elizabeth (the Sorcerer and the Mage) I decided to drop Edmunds Int to 16, boost his Wisdom back to 8, and hand all of the identification duties over to Elizabeth. I also added a female Drow Bard to the party. Another non-power character, she should bring some much needed buffing and bluffing to the group. Taking a dark elf bard also opens up some fun dialog options, and lowers the effective level of the group without squatting. Her stats are as follows;
Mina Scribner
Drow Bard, NG
Str:10 Dex:14 Con:12 Int:14 Wis:10 Cha:20
Skills: Bluff, Diplomacy, Concentration
Starting Feats= Lingering Song, add Rapid Shot at level 3
Party Role: Buffer, Talker, back up Caster/Archer/Healer
Identifying Quotes: ?What a cute little orc you are, yes you are!? ?Who?s my little snuggle orc??
Born and raised in the city of Ust Natha, the half-Drow who now calls herself Mina was unlucky enough to be born with her father?s pale coloration. Her mother, showing unusual sentimentality for a Drow, took pains to minimize the severity of the treatment her half-breed daughter received, even going so far as to see that the child was educated and given some minor freedoms. This would prove to be a mistake. On her first trip to the surface (she was meant to be arrow fodder on a small raid) Mina ran from the life she?d known and never looked back. She quickly discovered that many surface males would, in exchange for little more than a smile and a pat on the arm, do practically anything for her. She now travels with the Dunnykin for protection, and because they?re among the first really interesting surfacers she?s met. She has no desire whatsoever to return to Ust Natha.
UPDATE: TO THE BRIDGE
The air was filled with the stench of burning hair. The snow was red with blood, gray with ash, yellow with?never mind. In short, this did not appear to be the sort of place likely to make it on to most family?s lists of top five vacation destinations, and any family that did decide to vacation here would likely be the sort that receives regular visits from concerned local authorities. Corpses of every description (well, not every description obviously, but certainly a surprisingly large number of descriptions) lay half concealed in the snow before a large gray wooden bridge. On the bridge itself sat five figures, warming themselves before a burning barrel. One of the women held a book in a large hard hand (her hand, not someone else?s), and wrote as follows:
Dear Diary,
There?s so much to tell I don?t know where to begin. My hopes for this journey have been fulfilled ten fold. Targos may not be much of a town (so I have been repeatedly told by M., whom I am growing to hate), but the delightful lady Elytharra has the most extraordinary library of magical scrolls. Between what I was able to purchase from her and from that odd druid-mage, I feel I have learned more about magic in the last week than over the last decade in Dunny on the Wode. As soon as we return to town I shall insist on purchasing the rest of her collection. The boys may object, wishing to waste money on useless toys for Flash or such, but I am sure that reason shall prevail.
I should note some of the tactics that our small band has made use of in battle. I have found that a missile barrage is almost always the best choice against an advancing enemy, and that such a barrage is best directed towards spellcasters foolish enough to enter battle unprotected. My own magics have largely been devoted to preparation for combat. Clad in Mage Armor, protected by a simple ward against missiles, and surrounded by shifting illusions, I often feel quite invulnerable in an engagement?s opening stages. In the future I must learn to refrain from calling on my Mirror Images before entering melee. My Protection From Missiles is more than sufficient, and arrows that would otherwise bounce harmlessly from my shields can dispel the images. Once melee begins I find the use of a basic fire spell to be an excellent prelude to the use of my axe, which I have named Mister Sharpie.
Flasheart is a valuable if unimaginative companion in battle. His raw physicality allows him to scatter foes quite effectively. His performance in the field is quite similar to his performance in the bedroom; direct, satisfying in its way, yet ultimately lacking in subtlety. Still, he does have the most extraordinary hindquarters.
Mina, for all of her many faults (which I intend to list as soon as I have access to a full ink well and a spare quill), has proven to be an asset to the group. While her constant magically enhanced cries of ?Oh mister Bugbear, what big muscles you have? and ?Aren?t you the sweetest orc? are irritating in the extreme, they seem to be distressingly effective. Half of our more formidable foes have switched sides at key moments. Her songs of encouragement do add a spring to our steps, and even her archery is adequate. I do however still hate her.
Blackadder is proving to be a massive disappointment. His archery is accurate but slow, his holding power in melee limited, his magic inadequate to the demands of our mission, and he has twice now refused my offer to share his blanket. He has also allowed numerous townsfolk to cheat us of our rightful wages. If he weren?t good looking he?d have no use whatsoever.
I feel a little better about ?Bob?. She is skilled as a scout, and her ability to avoid injury is of some tactical value. Further, her ability to call on plants, snow, sunlight and even rain clouds makes her an effective source of magical support, and her archery is quite good. She?s useless for inflicting damage in melee. And she keeps saying things like ?As a boy I couldn?t possibly discuss how amazing Flash looks in those leggings? and ?We lads aren?t interested in girly things like bathing?, forcing me to throw random heavy objects at her. Gosh she?s quick.
The large woman closed the book and tucked it away in her pack. She then joined her companions in their preparations to break camp and return to Targos.
UPDATE: TO THE HORDE FORTRESS
WARNING: Some Spoilers
First the fiction:
From the Journals of Battle-Guard Denham, with the permission of the Temple of the Red Knight;
It has long been my practice to record for posterity the experiences of those few whom Tempus deigns to return to this field of conflict through my hands. These warriors have crossed the river and returned. They are scouts for the forces of the living, and it is vital we learn from their hard won wisdom.
The wise words spoken by Edmund Blackadder upon his revivification were as follows:
EB: ?Damn! Damn damn damn damn damn! Damn.?
B-GD: ?Welcome back to the battle my soldier. Are you in pain??
EB: ?I was just eviscerated by a bloody great troll you cretin, of course I?m in pain! [A short pause] Wait. I?m not, am I? I was??
B-GD: ?Dead? Yes, my soldier, you were on the march to the great feast halls of the righteous. Yet Tempus has seen fit to write your name once more in the book of those on active duty in this great war called life, and to erase it from the long list of those for whom the catering services of the hereafter must set a daily place, including two free flagons of the nectar of the Gods and a choice between the divine poultry dish or the fish of eternal bliss.?
EB: ?Oh?damn.?
B-GD: ?My soldier, it is the custom of my order to debrief (in a way that has nothing whatsoever to do with undergarments of any kind) those whom we return to these sun blessed shores of life, this glorious land of??
EB: ?Yes yes get on with it, I understand. You?ve dragged me back and now you want some sort of interview.?
B-GD: ?Your words border on the impious Blackadder. Hardly what would be expected from one gifted with Tempus? highest miracle.?
EB: ?Yes. Quite right. Sorry. [Looking upwards, as if addressing the heavens] Sorry.?
B-GD: ?Will you now answer my questions my soldier??
EB: ?Yes Battle-Guard.?
B-GD: ?Good. Now my soldier, what do you recall of the events that lead up to your removal from honorable service in the Legions of the Vital??
EB: ?My what??
B-GD: ?Your death.?
EB: ?Oh. Well?
We had just returned from our triumph at the bridge. We had learned in previous encounters that Shawford felt no obligation to compensate us for our efforts, and so proceeded directly to Ulbrec. Elizabeth was lobbying incessantly for us to sell off the spoils we?d collected from the enemy in order to flesh out her scroll collection, and Flash had his heart set on some very high quality chain mail.
We were in a fine humor as we marched into Ulbrec?s office, and he did greet us politely enough, thanking us for our efforts in Targos? defense. He then revealed the next part of his brilliant battle plan.
Having failed to get us killed with the order to (without backup or support of any kind) retake the Shaengarne, he had decided to send us, just the five of us, to assassinate the leaders of the Horde army. He did not offer to provide us with weapons, equipment, a small troop of seasoned veterans, or any such assistance.
Nonetheless we had sworn to obey his orders, no matter how insane. And I am well aware of the opinion our infinitely merciful gods have of oath-breakers. All the gods are bastards (sorry Battle-Guard). We headed for the Horde fortress.
The battles to reach the fortress gates were straightforward. I had recently learned the trick of producing a shield against missiles. Elizabeth and I warded the group, ?Bob? scouted and called on the grasses of the plain and beasts of the fields, Mina sang and charmed, and we triumphed with surprising ease against the foe. Their archers couldn?t touch us, their strongest fighters fell for Mina?s tricks, Flash cleaved and hacked two foes to the blow, and Elizabeth was a goddess of battle, dancing among their blades like a dancing, spinning, very difficult to hit thing. That was probably what got me killed.
After having cleared out the last of the defenders, our magic nearly exhausted but the group of us uninjured, Flash didn?t want to tramp all the way back to that mad ranger to rest. The others agreed, and we set up camp on the steps of the Horde fortress itself. On reflection, that may have been a mistake.
Our rest was interrupted. Repeatedly. Goblins, Half Goblins, and Ice Trolls, patrol after patrol. We were actually enjoying it. And then, I made one small mistake. I had seen Elizabeth bravely charge into one wave of foes after another, protected by Mage Armor and Mirror Images. The Ice Trolls were coming in on our flank, Liz was out of spells, but I had just enough energy left to throw up Mirror Images of my own. Bravely, selflessly, I charged forward to block the foe. And I made an important discovery.
Mirror Images by themselves are an insufficient defense when facing five maddened Ice Trolls. The next thing I knew, one troll was trying to force my head into his mouth, a second was pulling out loops of my large intestine and hurling them at my companions, and a third was doing something that I?d prefer not to remember to parts of my body I?d prefer not to mention.
On the whole, I suppose throwing up some Mage Armor right after casting the Mirror Image would have been a clever move.?
B-GD: ?And after your death? Do you remember anything? Anything at all??
EB: ?Not really?there was a tunnel. A long tunnel. And at the end of the tunnel, a ? light.?
B-GD: ?And in the light??
EB: ?A?figure. A female figure. A woman. I believe?she may have been my patroness, the Goddess Mystra.?
B-GD: ?And did she speak unto you??
EB: ?I?d rather not say??
B-GD: ?Did she speak to you??
EB: ?Yes.?
B-GD: ?What did she say??
EB: ?I ? ?
B-GD: ?What did she say? You will tell me!?
EB: ?She said ?Hello sunshine, got yourself ate then eh???
B-GD: ?I see...
?
You will speak of this to no one.?
EB: ?Yes Battle-Guard.?
UPDATE: Temple of Ice
Some small spoilers.
From Mina Scribner?s ?Through Icewind Dale With Staff and Bow?:
In a chamber shaped from ice, in a temple shaped from ice, on a mountain shaped from ice, stood two women. Beautiful they were, daughters of flesh in a chamber shaped from ice. Strange they were, daughters of flesh in a chamber shaped from ice. Dark was the elder, obsidian made flesh in a chamber shaped from ice. Pale was the younger, snow made flesh in a chamber shaped from ice.
The younger did speak.
?Chilly, isn?t it??
Mina Scribner, bard, teller of tales, dark elf soldier of fortune, and owner of a surprisingly large collection of novelty arrows, looked carefully at her young shield-sister. There was no sign that ?Bob? was joking.
?Yes Bob, it is chilly.?
The two women were hunting for loot that might have been overlooked in their first trip through the temple. The priestesses and their minions had been absurdly well armed, some of them carrying magical ammunition worth enough to nearly buy the town of Targos outright. Edmund was convinced that the Temple?s creator had somehow found a way to mass enchant gemstones and crystals. Elizabeth thought that the ammunition might have been part of the price paid by the Legion for the priestess? loyalty. Flasheart believed that the priestesses had wanted him, and that he would have had a ripping good time if the rest of the team hadn?t cramped his style.
Mina was annoyed by the possibility that Flasheart may have been correct. As the two women searched, Mina once again considered ?Bob?.
The girl obviously wanted to talk, to make contact. And she wasn?t precisely shy. She just had a habit of combining chirpy optimism, innocent sincerity, and blindingly obvious un-truths in such a way as to cause even the most patient of listeners to attempt to strike her with something heavy. This was obviously a source of pain (especially if her critics struck a nerve). Mina decided to risk a little kindness.
?Any pain from your wounds, Bob??
?No my lady. Besides,? said the younger woman ?it would be most unmanly for me to gripe or complain or in any way fail to keep a stiff upper lip, shoulders back and chin up for our side.?
?Yes, well??
?Why, were I to complain of the soreness in my shoulder from the impact of that crystal golem?s massive diamond hard fist, or the pain still lingering from the massive blast of flame thrown by dear Elizabeth that I failed to evade, or the irritation on my skin from the clashing effects of my own call on the powers of the earth to clothe me in armor of living bark and Edmunds enchantment that shields us all with air like stone, you?d think me a girly thing indeed and not at all rugged and brave.?
?I see Bob. If you really feel??
?Never will you hear an unkind word pass my lips when describing the tactical decisions of my betters, though those decisions result in my lovely pets slaughter and my own terror as troops of maddened lesser demons chase me in great circles while the rest of you stand back and sing and laugh and release all matter of missile fire and of course actual fire in my direction. Nor would I ever refer to Elizabeth as a great bullying harridan, nor draw attention to Edmund?s utter lack of a tactical sense, nor to the inverse relationship between the size of Flasheart?s brain and the size of??
?YES Bob. Look, you don?t have to...?
?No, never a whisper of discontent, for such would be most shameful.?
?YES BOB?? Mina took a deep breath, and lowered her voice. ?So you?re fine then??
?Yes my lady.?
?Look, I don?t think we?ve opened these chests.?
?Ooh, quite right you are my lady. What cute little locks, such tidy little tumblers. Why, when I was a lad, my dear father would spend hours??
?You were never a lad Bob. You were a lass.?
Bob looked disconcerted, then resumed opening the locks and continued with her story. Bob was not, contrary to the opinions of her friends, her family, and indeed the majority of the people she?d met over the last few years, mad. Nor was she a liar in the traditional sense, nor was she a fool (said opinions notwithstanding). She knew that she hadn?t been able to pass convincingly for a boy since her fifteenth birthday, at least not in a good light, not without several layers of heavy clothing and a most uncomfortable and somewhat restrictive rearrangement of undergarments.
But she had a certain sort of integrity. She had assumed the role of ?Bob? to help support her family, knowing that there were few respectable ways for a young peasant girl to earn money, and that the less respectable ways carried dangers beyond being merely unhygienic. Becoming a boy had been the best option. And now she had been a boy for nearly five years, had practically grown up as a boy. She was, against all odds, comfortable as Bob, far more comfortable than she had been as Kate.
And she was trapped. To ?come out? as Kate would be to declare that she had been, in a way, lying all this time. The fact that no one had believed her hardly mattered. A lie was a lie. So, as best she could, she obeyed the rules as she saw them, trying to be more of a boy than any man. She pretended to dislike bathing, she burped loudly after meals, and she ate enormous amounts of onion, garlic and cabbage in the hopes of capturing that peculiarly male scent that she remembered so well from her childhood. Being Brave and True were mere optional extras.
Her sadly underdeveloped social skills did sometimes interfere with her efforts.
The two women finished their sweep of the treasure chamber, and headed back towards the pass.
?My lady, let me help you with your pack. The path is most treacherous.?
?No need for that Bob. And, Bob, I want you to know that we do appreciate your efforts. Your magics and martial skills have been vital to our success.?
Bob blushed. ?My lady?? she began.
?No Bob. Learn to accept a compliment gracefully.?
?Yes my lady.?
The pair walked down the mountain.
