Tancred

I happened to watch Episode 4 today, and saw Obi-Wan creeping about the Death Star, distracting guards, hiding in corners and managing to do what he needed to do without killing anyone, in fact. And I began to think - why can't I do this? If this had been KOTOR, Obi-Wan would have no choice but to take the stormtroopers head-on. Even Jedi Academy - a game which is considerably more action-based - has an option for sneaking past people and avoiding battle. I feel KOTOR's force power selection and game structure is very heavily oriented to combat, and the only way, it seems, to use stealth, is to invest heavily in stealth units, or play as a Scoundrel/Jedi and use Mission and Juhani all the time. I don't want to have to slaughter my way through the game.

Does anyone else feel this way?

She ran - there was nothing she could do.
Chauntea help her! The stupid, blunt-minded fools were going to kill it! It and her!
The Dryad collapsed, shuddering. She had FELT that - they were already cutting into the tree. A sick pain, as if someone had stuck a knife into her belly and was twisting it around and around, wouldn't go. She could hear the tree cry out for help, and she could do nothing but echo that cry.
The two humans that had come had too stupid to fall for her charms. Spells that had beguiled the strongest-willed and the cleverest of all simply failed to even pierce the formidable ignorance she saw in their heads.
There was nothing she could do, but cry out for help.
Until, with a sudden surge of hope, she realised she could hear voices...

The six weary travellers' progress was marked by the thrashing of undergrowth - and the occasional cry of pain and irritation as another thorn or stinging nettle found its' way past armour to flesh.
"So how long is it to this... Gnoll fort, anyway?"
Edwin twirled his beard thoughtfully as he walked untouched in the wake of the others. "Another five days, perhaps more. Is it of concern?"
The black-clad man carved down another thorned branch with his sword, imagining it to be the wizard?s head. "If we're to fight our way through briars and twisted undergrowth and die a death of a thousand cuts, then yes, I think it is."
Edwin tutted to himself. The hooded man was sure he could hear the wizard muttering under his breath... but he couldn't quite catch the words.
Damn mages. Ever since that cursed bounty hunter at Nashkel had done for Xzar, the group had been in bad need of a mage. This oddly-accented stranger seemed to offer an answer to their prayers, but his conditions - the death of a certain Witch - were starting to seem less and less of a fair exchange.
Kagain didn't like the idea of some newcomer swanning in and taking a sixth share of the gold. Shar-Teel didn't like him because he was a male - predictably. Viconia didn't like the way he treated her with even more scorn than she treated him - and Montaron didn't like anyone.
"Any progress at the front?"
Shar-Teel yelled back. Her sword - taken from that shmuck Greywolf's hands - smashed through the plants as if they were nothing but brittle glass. No matter what it was she was hacking at - goblins, plants, water - Shar-Teel always managed to look angry about it, he mused.
"Clearing up ahead... about time!"
The thief muttered a small prayer. At last, somewhere to sit down without having some insect or sharp thorn pricking your backside  -
There was rustling in the undergrowth, and footsteps. Within an instant, weapons were readied as the already taut nerves of the party snapped. The young killer twitched one wrist, and the cool reassurance of a throwing knife dropped into his hand. There was a whur-whur-whur and a thunk as Viconia and Montaron readied their sling and crossbow.
What emerged was not what any of them were expecting.
A woman, beautiful and wounded but definitely not human, fell out of the bracken at their feet. Her mossy skin was patchy and dark, and she shivered as if in the grip of some fever. Slowly, paranoia trickled away and the party lowered their guard.
The young... Dryad, they supposed... got to her feet. There was desperation in her eyes.
"Please, kind spirits, you must help me! A tree - a wonderful tree - is under attack in the next clearing by foul beings who would destroy it! You must save it!"
If the Dryad was looking for any reassurance or immediate aid, she was disappointed. The party looked singularly unimpressed, and exchanged sour looks. Finally, the hooded man spoke, obviously puzzled.
"A tree? Like, a wood tree?"
The Dryad battled on, hoping to convey her sense of urgency to these strangers. "Yes! A beautiful, glorious wonder of nature is under assault, and -"
The shadowy man interrupted her. "Sorry, lady - or whatever - a tree's no great loss." He snorted. "I was brought up in a library, after all."
He began to walk away, and the rest of the group turned their backs. The Dryad couldn't believe it. First the two thugs, and now this? How could the world have become so cold-hearted?
"Please!" she implored, stumbling after them. "It is of terrible importance -"
"Look, just go away -"
"You must help me!"
The black-clad man whirled as she grabbed his arm, hand shooting to the scabbard of his sword. The Dryad flinched back, fear in her eyes.
"Please... please... help me. You are my last hope."
The party seemed to think on this.
"Why is this tree so important?"
"I am bonded to it! If it dies, so do I!"
There was a sudden... change in the atmosphere around the party. Kagain nodded sagely. Viconia raised her eyebrows. Montaron sneered.
"Ahhhh... I see," drawled the young man. "It's a tree especially important to you, yes?"
"Yes!" The Dryad felt relief. At last, they'd seen the light.
"Okay... what do we get in exchange for helping you?"
The relief evaporated. "W-what?"
"I don't work for charity. Neither," the hooded man waved a hand, gesturing at the party, "do my friends here." What do we get for saving this tree?"
The Dryad looked into the man's eyes and saw no help there, no pity. Only greed. Another cut to the tree made her wince in pain. There was no other way.
"I have many material treasures I have no use for," she bluffed. "You may take your pick of them if you aid me."
Grins from all present.
"Where is this tree, then?"

Caldo swung again. Again, his sword seemed to leave precious little dent in the strange, silvery wood. He frowned in puzzlement. Trees weren't usually this tough. Still, he reasoned, they would make 'em tough if they could... to protect the gold inside.
It made sense to him.
His companion, Krumm, wasn't having much more luck, if the stream of curses was anything to go by. The dull THUNK of steel on wood sounded through the clearing, but somehow the tree resisted.
They were both tired now, and sank down to rest. It was hot, even in the Cloudpeaks, and the two barbarians were sweating and flushed.
They leapt to their feet as a black-clad man entered the clearing.
"Hey! Who are you?"
The two barbarians waved their swords at the newcomer. The man in black stood there, arms folded. He didn't seem impressed.
"Oh, no-one important. I was just passing, and I saw you guys working hard at the tree there. What are you? Lumberjacks?"
"Duh, no... we're barbarians!" Krumm nodded enthusiastically at his comrade's description.
"Dat's right."
"So... why are you cutting down a tree?"
"It's a magic tree! Look, it's silver colour. Probably got gold in it, right Krumm?"
"Dat's right."
The black-clad figure nodded. "I see. Need a hand?"
Caldo looked at him warily. "With what?"
"Well... I was going to suggest I help you with the cutting, but then you are strong, and I'm no barbarian. So I was thinking I could keep a lookout for any more intellectually-challenged muscle like yourselves who might pass by, and ask if they'd aid you. What would you say to that?"
Caldo thought about this. Help would be good... with some more hands, they could bring down the tree easy, and share the  -
A rare thought dawned in Caldo?s head. He didn't like the concept of monetary division. Nor did he didn't like the way this man smiled ? like he was laughing.
"We don't need any help. Right, Krumm?"
"Dat's right."
"We can handle this by ourselves! Strong, we are!"
The man in black sighed. "I suppose I was asking too much of you to begin with. Step away from the tree and hand over your valuables, or you die."
Caldo and Krumm looked at him incredulous for a few seconds... and laughed. They laughed long and loud, their humour and scorn echoing off the cliffs and peaks of the mountains and the forests.
"We - we're gonna die, is we?" chortled Caldo. "And you're gonna kill us, is you?"
His smile grew wider, mocking. "That?s right, you stupid worms. "
The two barbarians stopped laughing, and glared at him in outrage. As one, they charged, anger overtaking all else.
The man in black just smiled.
Caldo had been in the lead, but as one a crossbow bolt and an axe landed squarely in his back even as a slingshot smashed into his skull from somewhere to the left. Caldo fell, his cry of anger dying with him. Krumm faltered in his charge, apprehension overcoming battle-rage. He turned to face the unseen attackers, and could see nothing but trees and bushes. The last thing he felt was the steel across his neck, and words breathed into his ear that he didn't have time to understand.

The party was feeling chipper; killing always seemed to brighten the day. Caldo and Krumm hadn't been penniless, and Montaron had stripped them of their armour. Everyone tried not to laugh at the halfling and the oversized horned helm he had balanced on his head.
As Kagain and Edwin scoured the corpses' packs, the Dryad emerged again. She smiled at her saviours. Treacherous and violent they may have been, but they had done well.
"Thank you, thank you, my deliverers! I can never adequately repay you for the life of my tree, indeed I -"
The man cut her off. "You can try. Treasures, you said... one saved tree, pick of treasures. What have you got?"
The Dryad began to speak, but the sudden glares from the party stopped her in mid-word. She gulped as the small halfling?s grip on his crossbow tightened.
"I... I admit I told you an untruth when I told you of treasure," she admitted, seeing the hostility grow. "But you are undoubtedly richer for your work, are you not? The possessions of these men will serve you well..."
Nothing but icy, violent looks still. The halfling twitched. The mage and the drow flexed their fingers.
"and... and... I have brewed these for you. Potions, created from magical ingredients, that will help you on your journey. This one will cure your wounds, restoring strength and speeding recovery, and this shall keep you free from the poisons of nature, be they deadly or otherwise."
The Dryad held out two wooden-stoppered flasks, suddenly more than a little frightened. Suppose they decided to kill her? Suppose they decided she had cheated them - which, in a way, she had? She was weak, she had none of her usual defences. A long, tense silence settled over the clearing, as all eyes focused on the black-clad thief, the man who held the power of life and death over her in this one instant, the man who could hold in check or let loose such hardened killers as these.
"Not quite what we expected..." the man sneered with a sour note, "but I suppose it'll have to do."
The Dryad breathed a sigh of relief, handing over the flasks. "What is your name?"
He took the flasks, a queer smile creeping across his face. "Don't have one. You can call me..." and he whispered something she could only just catch on the wind.
"I thank you for your service, sir. I can only give you my good wishes, and say good luck to you on your journey."
He nodded, seemingly thoughtful, and turned to leave. The Dryad watched them slowly push aside the walls of the clearing, off on their journey once more.
"I promise I shall speak well of you to anyone who I see!" she called after them. She turned back to her tree, smiling.
She never saw the crossbow bolt that killed her. She didn't even have time to scream. Her last feelings were confusion... confusion and sadness as she felt the tree cry out. She died.
He looked through the bushes, face twisted in sudden scorn, and gave silent approval of Montaron?s marksmanship.
"Oh no you damn well won't..." he muttered under his breath.

This is just a minor niggle of mine, but it's been a minor niggle for ages. I can't stand the way that you're just shoehorned into the whole Ust Natha section of the storyline, and I wish the writers had given it a little more thought.

SPOILERS
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As it is you're just 'recognised' as some people the Drow have been waiting for from another city to conduct a rescue mission. That... seems very unlikely, on the face of it, and perhaps needlessly so.

We already have the fighting pit in the tavern, and perhaps a better plot progression might be this: the party can ask around, pretending to be looking for employment by a House. This would naturally lead them to the answer that Phaere's house (I forget the name) is currently pre-eminent in Ust Natha, but that joining them isn't easy if you're an outsider with no credentials. Some might suggest to try fighting in the pits to see if you get noticed.

If you do go to the pits, one of two things can happen; either you see Lasonar (male duellist) fight and accept his mano-e-mano challenge, or you click on Chalinthra (female duellist) and accidentally spill her drink, leading her to demand satisfaction in a duel. Either way, if you beat one - Lasonar is a loyal skilled fighter in Chalinthra's service - the other is furious and is about to call you out when Solaufein and a Matron arrive, looking for Lasonar and Chalinthra to embark on the rescue mission to save Phaere. Upon seeing that half the team's already been killed, Solaufein is also furious, but the Matron reins him in, and opens the possibility of asking your group to help rescue Phaere. Time is short, there's no time to gather more warriors etc. Some judicious questioning on the part of the PC can reveal that the army of Ust Natha is 'out on maneuvers', a little fact that should fill some NPCs with foreboding.

From there, the plot proceeds as normal, with Phaere adopting the PC and his companions into her house and using them to orchestrate her schemes.

Just a little tweak - it wouldn't take much - and I feel the storyline would hang together much less incredulously. Other situations that could use this work in SOA and especially TOB come to mind, but I'll think on them before posting alternative rewrites - anyone got any pet hates in the plots they think deserve to be ironed out?