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Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
Enforcer's Wheel of Time Story Hour [Last Update 5-20-02 (finally!)]
Greetings. I started working on this before winter break, and I only picked it up again tonight. This is the journal of Reimon Jaspur, a noble who's seeking his fortune in the Westlands. His recent adventure with three new friends prompted him to buy a leather-bound book and record his experiences. This is the first story I've ever written (adventure notes don't count) outside of school work, so please give me honest, polite feedback/criticism. If there's an interest in future updates, I'll try to have something more soon.
Stats for Reimon and his friends may be found in the Rogues Gallery Character Stats
I didn't want to force you to be familiar with them to (hopefully) enjoy my story. Also, after Reimon meets his friends (2 PCs and the other NPC I run besides Reimon), Wheel of Time players may notice that the adventure they have is remarkably similar to the one found in the Wheel of Time core rulebook. That's because I ran that adventure for my two players.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Adar the 24th, 998 NE [Part 1]
The events of the past two days have prompted me to buy this leather-bound book, so that I can record the events of my travels. I wish to one day read this journal and fondly remember both my triumphs and my failures. Mother once said that a man truly knows himself only by acknowledging his past. Although my most recent adventure has certainly been the most unusual experience of my life, I think it best to start with my departure from home—Mother always told me to do a complete job of things.
As the youngest of three brothers, I never really held my father’s attention. My father, the Lord Marcos, was always far more concerned with my eldest brother Nataniel, as he is heir to the title. Father also pays some attention to my other brother, Jeb, in case Nataniel meets an untimely end. I suppose my existence is pointless—there is no need to train more than one replacement heir. I fear the day that Nataniel will take his place with the other Lords of the Land. He is an intelligent, capable man, but Father has taught him to think only of himself. Because of this, Nataniel is selfish and cruel. He once rode down a young boy on our estates with his stallion; he then fined the boy’s father a month’s wages for allowing the poor lad to get in his way. Jeb has a much kinder heart, but he is unassertive and too quick to trust. If he comes to lead our family, many others will take advantage of his weak resolve.
As for myself, I received more freedom than what is usual for a Lord’s son. I spent my youth learning the rudiments of history and heraldry, and I had a knack for the Old Tongue, which I speak fluently unlike most nobles. Mother taught me. Father deemed it unimportant for me to learn diplomacy, so I learned the ways of court surreptitiously from Mother. She took ill when I was fourteen. A traveling Aes Sedai offered to heal her, even despite the harsh laws forbidding it, but Father said he would not let the unclean touch of a Tar Valon witch disgrace his good name. He showed no concern about his wife, the mother of his three sons, just his reputation.
Soon after Mother’s death, Father stopped paying for my tutors. I ended up spending much of my time on our estates. Life was good out in the country. The olive trees there are beautiful in the summer. A kindly old guard named Andreu taught me the rudiments of combat, and Filip the stablemaster taught me how to ride and care for animals. I would wager that Father would take notice of me if he learned that I know how to brush down a horse and drive a plow! Yes, life was simple and pleasant there, and my body grew strong. Topping two paces and weighing eighteen stone, my added muscles made me even more handsome with my wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and olive Tairen skin. Had I not grown so restless there, I would have become involved with Filip’s pretty daughter to the point where honor dictated I marry her. Thank the Light my curiosity to see the city of my nation’s namesake got the better of me!
When I turned eighteen, I saddled Dovienya—my stout warhorse descended from the best of Tairen stock—and rode from the family estates to the city of Tear with all of my personal belongings. In my letter to Father, I explained my need to make something of myself; that I was not content to rest on the fortunes of my brothers.
The city of Tear is quite a place. The Stone dominates the rest of the city as Daes Dae’mar dominates Cairhien. Certainly any guest of a High Lord would have been invited to stay in the Stone, but the third son of a minor Lord of the Land had to make other arrangements. The inner city is where all the finer houses and High Lord palaces may be found, but unfortunately I had spent most of my allowance in the purchase of Dovienya. I ended up staying at The Dolphin’s Swim, one of the lowest of inns in the Maule, the rough port district of the city. My first night I lost most of my purse learning how to gamble with dice as opposed to playing Chop.
I spent two months at The Dolphin’s Swim, gambling and fighting. While most Tairen peasants would not dare attack a man with a signet ring, the sailors on shore leave had no such inhibitions. Soon word had spread that I was stronger than all but the strongest oarsman was, and my exercise became infrequent as a result. Despite what any other noble may think, I learned more during my two months spent with the bottom of society than I ever did from my tutors (excepting Mother, of course). Peasants will be honest to even the son of a Lord of the Land if you buy them their drinks. They gave me an appreciation of what the common person thinks.
Unfortunately, my time in Tear was cut short by a riverboat captain named Huyen Derniv. Huyen was a tall, stocky man who controlled his crew with as much brute force as yelling and cursing. He and I had been playing at Crowns for much of the evening, and I was having much better luck with the dice than he. After a toss where he lost his twenty-fourth Tairen mark, he decided it was wiser to brandish his oak cudgel than call it a night. I responded by drawing my plainly adorned longsword and dueling with the man outside. Regrettably, the fight ended with Huyen sliding off my blade into the thick mud of the Maule. I did not want to kill the man, but he had no cause to attack me—my dice are fair, unlike those of some others I have played against. Looking back on it now, I suppose it was lucky that Huyen’s men hated him, or I might have ended up dead in the mud next to him, despite Andreu’s lessons.
That did not erase my need to flee the city, however. While it is true that the son of a Lord has every right to kill a commoner in Tear, it was also true that Huyen owed his twenty-four marks and more to a disreputable man named Thad the Hatchet. Thad was awarded his moniker by using a woodsman’s hatchet to dismember a man who failed to pay back his loan in time. He decided that Huyen had diced with money that did not belong to him, and that I was now responsible for the riverboat captain’s debts.
I packed everything I owned into Dovienya’s saddlebags and left that very night. Fortunately my signet ring—my sign is two crossed silver daggers, pointing up, inside a golden circle—and a few well-chosen words allowed me to exit the city while the Hatchet was delayed by negotiating a bribe with the guards. Carried swiftly on Dovienya’s strong legs, I was well gone by the time any pursuit had made its way outside the city walls.
My journey away from Tear was not easy. My luck apparently ended with taking Huyen’s money. By the time I crossed the Goine Bridge into Far Madding, I only had ten silver marks left, and no gold. When the gate guards “peace bonded” my sword—a process that involves the tying of cord around the hilt and scabbard, making the sword very difficult to unsheathe—I cannot say I was offended. If we obeyed a similar custom in Tear, I might not have had to flee Thad the Hatchet and his ruffians.
I only spent a week in Far Madding, but in that time my luck with the dice returned—I had more than doubled the weight of my purse. Nevertheless, word reached the city that the captured False Dragon, Logain Ablar, would be passing through Caemlyn on his way to Tar Valon to be gentled. This was something that I never could have seen back home, and I had no desire to miss it!
I reached Caemlyn the 22nd of Adar, having lost even more coin on that leg of my journey than I lost from Tear to Far Madding. I swear that if for some reason I end up being a Lord of the Land (may the Light forbid that!), I will tax my peasants less so that they would be willing to gamble for more than a few measly silver pennies. I almost hit an elderly farmer who wanted to dice for copper coins. Copper coins! But I digress. My first night in Caemlyn was when things got interesting.
I had paid for a room at the Golden Stag Inn, a nice establishment situated in a prosperous area outside the walls of the Inner City. So many had come to see the False Dragon that the Innkeeper, one Master Ferrin, had set up tables and benches in the stable yard to accommodate his numerous patrons. The winter air became quite chilly with the setting of the sun, and so Master Ferrin had large fires going among the tables as well, making the atmosphere more than comfortable. A fiddler was playing peasant songs in one corner of the yard, but I paid him no attention. Instead, my eyes were riveted to the creamy complexion and flawless features of a Domani woman named Resara. Ah Resara, your name flitters off the tongue like a beautiful butterfly. She had soft blue eyes like the sea and flowing brown hair so lustrous that it reflected the firelight. And her dress…Domani women certainly deserve their scandalous reputations. Oh, how I want her! Unfortunately, Resara’s attentions were divided between me and two other men.
The first called himself Tarlan, a strong Andorman slightly taller than my own six feet with green eyes, which I found to be an interesting experience. He had the same corded muscles and an even greater grace of movement than I possess. Belted to his waist was a hand-and-a-half sword that the people of Andor call “Warder’s swords,” though Tarlan was obviously no Warder. On the other side of his waist, the man carried a plain dagger. Strapped to his right thigh he bore a short sword and against the wall nearest him lay a boar spear and the tallest longbow I have ever seen! When I asked him about his need for so many arms, he told me that the wilderness that he spends most of his time in requires preparedness, and that he has a handaxe hanging from the pack in his room as well. Nevertheless, Tarlan was a companionable man, though I found him to be somewhat more focused on Resara than myself, the Light knows I cannot blame him.
The other man went by Ronan; he was a shorter and stockier man from Shienar. Despite what I had learned of Shienarans from my tutors, this man did not wear his hair in a topknot. When I inquired about his hair, he guardedly explained that only Shienaran warriors wear it in such a fashion. Despite his claim of not being a soldier, the man still wore a morningstar and a dagger on his belt. At least if he had any interest in Resara, he kept it to himself.
Suddenly, two men, one wearing red and thus showing support for the Andoran Queen, Morgase, the other wearing white in opposition, interrupted our polite conversation. The one in red called the other a coward; the offended man in white replied angrily and drew his dagger. One of Master Ferrin’s bouncers grabbed the poor sod and tossed him into the door of the stable’s large shed, breaking it open. I gasped, and I was not alone, for inside was a horrible creature with the head of a goat, and goat legs, taller than a man by half! I supposed it to be a trolloc, though before that moment I certainly would have called any man who believed in trollocs a fool. I also noticed two more of the monsters stuffing what looked like a small child into a sack. The sight of that made me angry, I had also never believed in trollocs eating humans…
“Who will help me destroy these Shadowspawn?” I asked, loudly so I could be heard above the panicking crowd. I figured that Tarlan might side with me, and even Ronan, but Resara’s frightened, yet determined nod surprised me; that is until she drew forth a dagger from between her ample breasts and handled it like one who knew its use. Everyone else was too overcome with fear to act.
Tarlan was the first to reach the beast, his Warder’s sword held strongly in two hands. His attack was skillful, yet still it was parried by the trolloc’s cruel curved sword. The counterblow Tarlan received cut right across the man’s broad chest. The blow was surely telling, but Tarlan shrugged it off as if such blows were a common experience for him. I rushed in and cut my longsword deeply into trolloc flesh. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed what must have been Resara’s dagger strike the frame of the shed door with a loud “thunk.” Ronan came up to the trolloc on the other side of Tarlan, and struck the creature hard with his morningstar. The monster looked satisfactorily pained. Tarlan had already attacked again, glancing his sword off the creature’s black mail, by the time I struck the killing blow across its neck. It collapsed in a heavy heap. Tarlan bravely made his way over to a bench, dragging his sword in one hand while clutching his bleeding chest with the other. Resara retrieved her dagger, and I noted with dismay that the other two trollocs had fled through the back wall of the shed with their victim.
At least the other inn patrons had collected themselves again. Master Ferrin led the bravest of these back into the stable yard. Everyone was shocked at seeing the dead trolloc; I myself was quite stunned at seeing the body now that the fight was over. When Bennet, the stablemaster, made his way through the crowd, I saw by his face who the trolloc captive was. Trollocs had taken his daughter Sirene.
Everyone began searching the stables and other parts of the inn, but my three new companions and I knew she was gone. Soon the crowd turns from searching to speculating at the horrible fate that awaited Sirene.
“The Light knows you’ve done more than any other, and so I’m hesitant to ask this,” Master Ferrin said, “but Sirene is just a child, and she’s all the family poor Bennet has. Everyone at the inn has treated her as if she was their own. Won’t you please help her?”
Bennet, nervously twisting a handkerchief in his hands, followed this by saying, “Please, every moment of delay is another moment that she’s in danger! Hurry!”
None of the four of us seemed to be stepping forward, so I decided to. “Of course we will help you, I shall not let a child be stolen by trollocs. We leave at once.” I dare say I sounded a lot braver than I felt—I knew there were at least two other trollocs, and a good chance for more. Seeing a maid tend to Tarlan’s wound with healer’s balm did not serve to settle my stomach. Fortunately, the woodsman looked a lot better than he did, we would need him in the battles to come.
[Part 2 coming soon!]
In the mean time, please respond to the poll and/or leave any comments/criticisms/death threats in this thread. Thank you!
I really enjoyed your first post and I am anxiously awaiting part 2. Good story telling and you seem to have a nice grasp of the setting. Can't wait for more!
Backgrounds are the hardest to comment upon, because they're more factual and linear then pure adventures are. Thought it was kind of slow at the beginning but really picked up as it went along, and I found the ending interesting. You might want to be careful about giving too much information to the reader, and tighten it up some.
I think a WoT adventure has great promise because I've yet to see a story hour based on that world (could've missed one if there was, but who knows). In any case, it's hard to draw too much of an opinion from an intro (which this essentially was), so I'll keep my eye out for more. Good luck.
I find the adventures which are written "third person" easier to read than the ones which are "first person". Mind you, you've already had four people comment on your storyhour, while I've had none... so what do I know
I like WoT, and I liked the look of the NPCs in the rogues gallery. I'll check up on you and see how the story develops.
I was actually waiting til this morning to give you a good bump. I love the story - well crafted and VERY good use of the setting. I put a link to your story on my website and you obviously know I "outed" you on the WotC boards.
__________________ My Digital World Pencil Pushers - Exploring geekdom one setting at a time. Call of the Horn - Forums for the Wheel of Time RPG, The Last Dominion, and Legends. Meditations on Mortality - Useless lessons learned in the early hours of the morning by an ER nurse.
Good start! A great background for the character - very nicely detailed, along with the journal narrative. In my opinion, it's refreshing to see a first person perspective for a change. I look forward to the next installment, although I hope to see more from the actual PC's! Keep it coming!
I almost responded to RaveN before remembering that he's my suite-mate here at school... I need a brain transplant sometimes...
But, if someone is seriously confused as to what I'm talking about, 'cause they haven't read the novels, I guess I could try to answer any questions you might have. You could always read just the first novel in the series, however, as my little thing takes place in the middle of it. (And you'd be reading some of the best fantasy ever, in my opinion.)
As for 3rd-person vs. 1st-person, I definitely thought about it, but I wanted it to focus on Reimon's perspective. Reimon and Resara are NPCs that I run, while Tarlan and Ronan are PCs. I thought Reimon would have a lot more...er...depth.
By the way, I'm hoping to have the conclusion to Reimon's first adventure up by tonight.
Tarlan had just risen somewhat steadily to his feet and had gathered his weapons when a foul odor wafted through the stable yard. The stench was more terrible than even the stink of the Maule, which itself was one of the few things I was happy to leave behind me in Tear. Soon the source of the aroma was walking towards my cohorts and me, the crowd of travelers and merchants parting to allow him a wide berth. Somewhere within the hunched-over mess of dirty garments, I could make out an oversized hooked nose and a piercing gaze. That iron-hard stare would have parted the crowd without aid from its owner’s scent or disheveled clothing. Father had that same look in his eyes when he refused Aes Sedai help for Mother—it is the look of a man ready to kill to get what he wants. I could tell that Tarlan and Resara were taken aback as well, the stunning woman looked like a Tairen lady ready to faint. Ronan was unperturbed; would nothing agitate this man?
“Rol!” Master Ferrin shouted at the bouncer who had inadvertently started this mess, “That wretched beggar is dirtying my inn for the fourth time in half as many days!”
“Should I fetch my dogs Master Ferrin?” Bennet asked. I was more than half hoping the stout innkeeper would let him.
“You need me,” the beggar interrupted even as Ferrin began to nod his head. “The monsters went right by me as I lay in the alley. I can take you.” The man’s voice sounded somewhat like the croak of a man I had diced with once at The Dolphin’s Swim. He was in a knife fight where his opponent had slashed him across the throat—not a killing blow, but enough to make his voice a mockery of its former self.
Ferrin’s nodding took on a different meaning. “He can show the way! Follow him, and quickly!”
“Yes, we have precious little time, let’s be off,” Tarlan said, sounding eager to take revenge for the cruel cut that still showed under his damaged tunic. I could not agree more.
We followed the beggar into the alley, onto a road, and out to the fringe of the outermost buildings of Caemlyn. We each carried a weapon: Tarlan had an arrow the length of my arm nocked in his enormous longbow, Ronan held his morningstar easily at his side, Resara had her dagger ready to throw, and I gripped my longsword the way Andreu had taught me. Looking at our hastily assembled group, I had to admire the strength of character that was being displayed on my companions’ faces. There was fear yes, except for Ronan, but still a righteous determination. Or perhaps I am just remembering us all as looking braver than we actually did. Mother said that men remember things the way they want to remember them, not the way they actually happened.
The beggar stopped and pointed along a hedgerow that led into a copse of trees about 200 paces away. I could only make out the outline in the darkness. “That’s where they took her,” he croaked. The wretch sounded as if he was enjoying all of this.
We had gone perhaps a third of the distance when Tarlan looked over his shoulder. “Good, he’s out of earshot. Ugh, I wish I had gone outside to look for a trail before we agreed to his help. I surely could have tracked two trollocs this far.” He sounded rather defensive about his skill at woodcraft, perhaps because his sword returned to its sheath unbloodied in our first fight.
Resara laid a soft, delicate hand on Tarlan’s shoulder, “I forgot to tell you how astonished I was that you kept fighting after taking such a tremendous blow. Surely you have the fortitude of three men.” The sly smile she flashed him left little doubt as to what she meant. The woodsman could only stammer a few words of thanks in reply as his cheeks flushed a bright crimson. He did square his shoulders and appear more relaxed though—my respect for Resara went up a notch.
In a low voice, Tarlan said, “Their tracks follow along this hedgerow, they may be watching this way for pursuit. It’d be best if we all followed me across the field so we can approach from a safer side. I know it’s hard, but try not to be seen or heard.” It was sound advice that we all agreed to. This Andorman knew what he was about.
We all made it safely to a shallow ravine that lay to the west of the small wood. I was worried that Resara or I would give away our position, given that Tarlan gave us concerned looks every time we made a sound. At least the woodsman and Ronan seemed to be adept at moving noiselessly.
Crouched in the ravine, we looked into the trees. I saw only one trolloc, perhaps five paces away from the squirming sack that undoubtedly held poor Sirene. Fortunately, Tarlan and Ronan spotted the two that I had missed. The woodsman was right; the two trollocs I had overlooked were indeed watching the path along the hedgerow.
When Ronan unwrapped a sling from around his arm, we decided that it would be best if Resara and I crept up to the trolloc nearest Sirene as far as we could (we had no bows or slings), then wait for Tarlan’s arrow and Ronan’s sling bullet to hit it. Resara and I would then rush in to finish it off, if necessary. Then the four of us could deal with the other two, instead of fighting three of them at once. It was also decided that after the one trolloc was down, Resara and I would get in between the sack and the other two Shadowspawn to protect Sirene. And hopefully live long enough for Tarlan and Ronan to come and help us…
Tarlan double-checked his arrow while Ronan readied his sling. Ronan did not look well, his brow shone with sweat and he appeared as if he might sick up. Perfectly understandable, given the circumstances, though I found it interesting that he looked even more resolute than before, if that is possible. Resara and I began to sneak towards our target.
The trolloc had its back turned to us, and so the two of us made it to within ten paces before it whipped around, cruel sword held strongly in its thick hand and howling with hate. The howling abruptly stopped as the trolloc’s chest sprouted the arrow from Tarlan’s enormous bow. A split-second later, its neck exploded. Ronan’s sling bullet must have actually pierced flesh rather than simply strike the beast. A lucky shot. Resara and I were already running towards the other two trollocs as the first fell lifeless to the ground.
I worried for Resara, as she and I were each facing our own nine-feet-tall monstrosity, and she had never received any battle training as I had. Fortunately she seem quick enough to protect herself, though I doubted her tiny dagger would be of much use against her much larger opponent.
The trolloc I faced had the head of a hawk, with a sharp beak protruding where a mouth should be. It tried to rush past my right side, probably meaning to grab the sack, but I made a deep cut across its belly before it could get out of my reach. My blow stopped the trolloc’s charge, as continuing would have only deepened the wound. After my blade was clear of trolloc flesh, I brought my left hand to the bottom of the hilt. Taking the longsword with two hands, I cleaved it into the Shadowspawn’s back. My arms went slightly numb due to the force of my sword severing the trolloc’s spine, but I was just happy that the monster would not be rising to attack me.
Resara, on the other hand, was not doing as well. She showed no injuries, but it was taking her every ounce of concentration to avoid being hit by the trolloc’s curved sword. I reached her a mere moment before Tarlan and Ronan had caught up to the battle. In my haste I thought that I could take advantage of the trolloc’s distraction long enough to strike a killing blow. With animal cunning it managed to deflect my sword enough that my blade glanced uselessly off the black mail that it wore. With the trolloc’s focus on my attack, however, it never saw Ronan bring his morningstar up over his head to crash into its ram-like temple. Yet it did not fall!
By now the trolloc was frantic, its horns were twisting about with its desperate attempt to keep its eyes on all four of us simultaneously. It realized how futile that was when Tarlan’s Warder’s sword was buried hilt-deep in its lungs. It was over.
As Tarlan, Ronan, and I were cleaning our weapons on ragged trolloc garments, Resara went to the sack that held Sirene. She was such as pretty girl, with long blond hair and cute dimples. I was so relieved that we had succeeded—having to return to Bennet empty-handed would have been unbearable.
Sirene did not seem to realize she was out of danger as Resara was asking her if she was hurt, but received no response. It was only when Tarlan went over to her stunned form and lifted her in his arms that her expression changed. She simply clasped her arms around the woodsman’s thick neck and cried softly into his shoulder as he held her. It must have hurt Tarlan greatly to have Sirene in contact with the chest wound he had received at the inn, but one would not know it to look at him. The man simply looked content.
Our reception back at The Golden Stag was enthusiastic, to put it mildly. Bennet and Sirene were reunited, with the girl not touching the ground as Tarlan handed her into the loving arms of her father. Master Ferrin approached the four of us after fighting through the swarm of patrons who wanted to pay their compliments.
“The four of you stay free at this inn for as long as I can afford it. I’ve even asked several people to sleep three to a room, so each of you can have a private bed. They fought to be one of the ones inconvenienced, if you can believe that,” Ferrin held his gaze to the floor, as if he were addressing an assembly of nobles.
I was about to tell him to look us in the face when the stench of the filthy beggar once again assaulted my senses. He even had the nerve to grab Tarlan by the cloak. I dare say that if I possessed the small size of this beggar, I would never think to grab a man as big as Tarlan. Even being of roughly equal strength to the man, I would certainly think twice first.
“Please sir, it’s so cold out in the alley. Allow a poor beggar the humble reward of your cloak, that I might keep warm,” he croaked, and I thought it a reasonable enough request, despite the man’s greedy and more than half-mad expression. That stabbing gaze still had not changed a bit.
“I’m afraid not friend beggar. This cloak has been an heirloom in my family for as many generations as we can recount. I’ll not part with it, though I’d be happy to buy you one of your own, and new woolen clothes to go with it if you like,” the woodsman replied. It seemed to me that he was ashamed at refusing the beggar his cloak, and was being overly generous to compensate. I learned much about reading a man during my dicing days in the Maule.
Master Ferrin diffused the situation by offering the ragged man some blankets and a place in the loft. Though the beggar seemed far from satisfied, he accepted the innkeeper’s charity graciously enough. As for my companions and I, we were hounded repeatedly to recount the story of our supposedly epic battle. Somehow I was chosen to tell the tale; Tarlan was too busy being fussed over by the maid that had tended to him earlier while Resara was asked to dance by nearly every man in the inn. One look at Ronan’s cold face sent the curious away from him, though he never had to pay for a refill of his mug.
Late in the evening, we were finally permitted to go to our rooms. I cannot recall a time when I slept more soundly. I dreamt of tomorrow, when I would get to see what I came to Caemlyn for. The False Dragon Logain was to be paraded through the streets.
This is great so far! I look forward to part3. I read the stats in the rouges gallery, and I was wondering what a wanderer is? (I've only gotten to book 2 and I have not seen the d20 conversion yet.)
__________________ <center><img src="http://www.artlair.com/icons/tests/cb_ed.jpg"><br>You are <b>Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky the Fourth</b><br>A strange and fun loving kid. You are an expert computer hacker and have all the really important, meaningful dialog in the series .<br><a href="http://www.selectsmart.com/FREE/select.php3?client=cathryn">Which Cowboy Bebop Character Are You?</a></center>
A wanderer, in game terms, is a bit like a rogue... Rand's friend, Mat, is a wanderer. The wanderer has senak attacks, skill focus and a feat that gives a reroll (Dark One's Own).
The story goes great! Have you already prepared/played next adventure? Will it be a home made adventure or and adaptation of something?
I've somewhat prepared the next adventure (it's home made), but I don't know when we'll get to play. Tarlan's player doesn't seem to be free, ever, so it could be a while. Alternatively, I could hand the character over to someone else, or make it 3 NPCs and one PC. I've done it before...
Riekhan, Horacio did a good job describing the wanderer, but if you want more, ask away or check out the rulebook at your game shop.
As for part 3 (the conclusion), I have a quiz on Thursday and some other work as well. Grr...I hate homework!
I also wanted to say that I really enjoyed reading your posts and am looking forward to seeing what else happens. I confess that I'm also looking for a bit of inspiration to help me put together my own WoT campaign (I'm more familiar with FR and GH) so I'll personally be hoping that you knock over your homework ASAP.
I also wanted to say that I really enjoyed reading your posts and am looking forward to seeing what else happens. I confess that I'm also looking for a bit of inspiration to help me put together my own WoT campaign (I'm more familiar with FR and GH) so I'll personally be hoping that you knock over your homework ASAP.
Cheers
NPP
Derulbaskul: After Reimon arrives in Caemlyn, the adventure I ran was the one from the back of the Wheel of Time Rulebook, so you don't need to wait for the conclusion of this adventure to run it on your own.
Be advised, however, that anyone who runs that adventure should be prepared to possibly fudge some dice rolls. Multiple trollocs are not appropriate for a 1st level party, despite what the rulebook says. They've got something like 15 hp on average and a +4 to hit. They also do a noticeable 2d4+2 with those scytheswords. Challenge code 'A' my...er...posterior.
You may have noticed that Tarlan was the only one to get hit so far, that's because I rolled like...er...doody, whereas the players did awesome. Ronan had something like 5 crits with his morningstar (sigh), though I've changed the combat a little to make it flow more quickly, so you haven't seen all 5 (and won't, probably).
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