Issue No. 2, April 1998
"Read it or die!"
* I apologize, but due to unforseen difficulties there will be no April
edition of "Tales of the Broken Sword." April Fool's!
Standard Dungeon Equipment
Retributive Strike (letters, reviews, opinions, and other nonsense)
Dear Bozo (where our resident psychopathic gnomish jester imparts
his "wisdom" on anyone foolish enough to ask for it)
Minstrel's Musings (poetry, riddles, jokes, etc.)
Message Board Rules (for members only. Here you will find the
guidelines for posting to the bulletin board)
Role players' Rules of Thumb (a tongue-in-cheek look at the oddities
of fantasy roleplaying)
Archives (here we post our old issues in a text-only format. For those
masochists who really enjoy pain)
Altered Reality
"The Pendulum," by Rex Henderson
"Betrayal: Part I," by Brian F. Fox
"That's My Story and I'm Sticking to It," by Bill R.
"Cavalier," by Naugrim
Retributive Strike!
*Where the editors, authors, and readers get the opportunity to say hello or express their views
(no matter how ill-conceived).
Letter from the Editor
Well, here we are with our second issue of the new "Broken Sword." I have been pleased with the response from
everyone, and the feedback so far has been very positive. Many great suggestions have been made and you will
see several of them implemented in this issue. The bulletin board is now open to only our active members as well. I
hope all of you enjoy this edition, and I look forward to the submissions you will be sending in soon for the next one!
-Brian F. Fox
*
Review: "These are a few of my favorite links..."
Brian F. Fox
I am taking this opportunity to share with all of you a few of my favorite links that I have come across on the web. I
thought about creating a links page but felt that this approach would be more timely and allow all of us to share
those great web pages which we come across (so hopefully some of you will do this for future issues).
First, for all of you novice web surfers I strongly recommend using Yahoo! as your search engine. I have tried
pretty much all of them out there but find myself returning back to Yahoo! for all of my searches. It is the easiest to
use and pretty exhaustive.
For news, I strongly recommend two pages. First, Excite, another search engine, allows you to create an account
and set up your own personalized news page (My Excite). It includes local television listings, weather, and a variety
of customizable news topics. To set it up, click on "My Channel" at the Excite homepage and it will step you
through it. Second, Yahoo! allows you to set up an account (My Yahoo!) which features many of the same things,
but I do prefer Excite's news page overall. I use both of them regularly, though.
My Yahoo! includes what I believe to be the best online mail service (My Yahoo! mail), however. The address you
use to send to me is a Yahoo! address. An online email service allows you to access your email from any computer
with an internet connection as well as allowing you to retrieve email from your regular address if you choose (which
can keep all of your email in one centralized location). Another benefit is that if you use this address as your
primary address it never has to change, even if you switch service providers.
The last website I want to recommend is WebRPG. It is a roleplaying oriented site, but one of its features is its
bi-monthly e-magazine, "The Oracle." Tracy Hickman, one of the authors of The Dragonlance Chronicles, is a
regular contributor. They also run a regular survey of roleplayers which can be quite amusing. Finally, they may be
accepting reader submitted fiction (I will let you know more as I find out).
Hope you find these sites interesting and useful!
Dear Bozo,
*The views expressed in this column are NOT those of the editors. Any and all threats of death or legal action
should be directed solely to the author.
Dear Bozo,
I am an apprentice wizard who is treated like crap by my master. He constantly belittles me, makes me do menial tasks, and
teaches me almost nothing. In short, he treats me like a slave! I have decided to kill him, but I fear his power. What do you
suggest?
Signed,
Angry Apprentice
Dear Angry,
I believe that you need to take a moment and get in touch with your feelings. Violence never solves anything, and vengeance
will only destroy you eventually. Get in touch with your inner child and learn to enjoy the simple things in life. In no time at all
you and your master will grow to love and cherish one another! Hah! April Fool's! You didn't believe that rubbish did you?
Seriously, poison the scum. All the wizardry in the world won't stop cyanide from killing him before he can make a gesture.
Good luck to you!
*
Dear Bozo,
I am a novice assassin and am hoping you might provide me with some advice. What material do you recommend that I use for
my garrotes? I have been told a simple leather cord will do, but others tell me to use a chain. In addition, what are your favorite
methods of terminating your targets? Any advice you can provide will be greatly appreciated.
Signed,
Confused Cutthroat
Dear Cutthroat,
So, looking to get some free advice from the old veteran, eh? Usually I kill free-loaders, but I'm feeling generous today. As for
garrotes, I personally use harp strings because they make such a lovely sound when strangling my victims. As for my favorite
method, well, I suppose I just enjoy my job no matter how I do it. The thing of it is, you must learn to love your work or it's just
a grind. Now me, I love those kills best where I was able to betray the trust of my comrades. I love to wait until we're in the
thick of battle and then backstab the hell out of one of my party. Talk about chaos! You've simply got to do it to truly
appreciate the beauty of it. You know, that reminds me of the time my party and I were headed to a lich's tomb to loot it. We
were on a raft in the middle of a swamp, surrounded by alligators, and I really began to find them annoying. So I killed them!
Great story, huh?
*
Dear Bozo,
I am an elven warrior/mage who has just about come to the end of my rope with dwarves. I am sick to death of all their
stomping around, waving axes and hammers, and generally making a nuisance of themselves, not to mention their drunken ways
and their nasty beards which show you what they have been eating for the past week or so. And that is just their women! What
do you think I should do about these disgusting foul smelling creatures?
Signed,
Disgusted with Dwarves
Dear Disgusted,
You know, the only thing worse than dwarves are elves! You pointy-eared freaks, with your tree-loving ways, really make me
sick. You're always so pompous and proud of your racial abilities it makes me puke. I truly enjoy my collection of elven ears I
have 'obtained' over the years, and I look forward to adding yours to the pile. See you soon...
*
Dear Bozo,
I am a fellow jester who needs advice. I try my best to entertain my audiences, but invariably there is always someone there
who ruins my show with their constant heckling and other disruptions. What can I do to keep these jerks under control and
maybe entertain the audience in the process?
Signed,
Annoyed in Drakmar
Dear Annoyed,
Kill them. Audiences will love it.
Minstrel's Musings
*Poetry, riddles, and various ramblings...
"Weathering"
Some days I love rainbows,
Stately epitaph of a tyrant.
But oft days, the bullion of the stew tastes best;
Dreadful misty calm before the storm.
Sometimes, lamenting in my courtyard,
Kissing the raindrops with my tongue and lips,
Drops of moist air on the tip of a strand of wild flung hair,
Tickles the bridge of my nose.
I gaze through the canopy that surrounds me,
Like an Amazon paradise; leafy coiled vines,
Writhing from their lofty anchors, entangled,
Where swirling mists dodge and chase descending leaves,
Fluttering like a natural graffiti with a susurrus applause,
As each touches chilling hard-packed earth,
Where I lay damp amongst them,
In the grayness of the thunderclouds.
And through the broken foliage above, my thoughts meander;
Bloodhounds for scent of light, my eyes go a-hunting the sun,
Resting under those pillows in the sky,
That nature fluffs to find the cool side. A mirthful thought!
I do a like thing, weary in my bed;
When the sun comes a-hunting me,
Peeking through my shades,
Blasting away at my bloodhounds already bloodied,
By the nights revelry,
I too seek solace under my cool pillow.
--Roan,
bard of the Wild Coasts
*
I lord over my master though I am his servant. A wise master cherishes me and
protects me as I do him or her. My fate is closely linked to my master's:
when I am destroyed so often is my master. What am I?
[Brian F. Fox]
Answer: helmet (or possibly a familiar)
*
Let the discord inside you wail in percussion on strings of discussion.
You must find a way to give your mind away.
Allow the words you speak to speak essays. Let them speak volumes.
Lest you choke on submission
and give in to what you do not believe in.
--Roan,
bard of the Wild Coasts
*
The Art of War
Sun Tzu
All warfare is based on deception. Therefore, when capable of attacking, feign incapacity; when
active in moving troops, feign inactivity. When near the enemy, make it seem that you are far away;
when far away, make it seem that you are near. Hold out baits to lure the enemy. Strike the enemy
when he is in disorder. Prepare against the enemy when he is secure at all points. Avoid the enemy
for the time being when he is stronger. If your opponent is of choleric temper, try to irritate him. If
he is arrogant, try to encourage his egotism. If the enemy troops are well prepared after
reorganization, try to wear them down. If they are united, try to sow dissension among them. Attack
the enemy where he is unprepared, and appear where you are not expected. These are the keys to
victory for a strategist. It is not possible to formulate them in detail beforehand.
Now, if the estimates made before a battle indicate victory, it is because careful calculations show
that your conditions are more favorable than those of your enemy; if they indicate defeat, it is
because careful calculations show that favorable conditions for a battle are fewer. With more careful
calculations, one can win; with less, one cannot. How much less chance of victory has one who
makes no calculations at all! By this means, one can foresee the outcome of a battle.
*
"The Lovers' Quarrel"
Rape me of my loneliness.
Hang me from an olive branch.
Strike me with your gaze.
Drown me in your laughter.
Assault me with a kiss.
Rather I would die,
Before I made peace with you...
--Roan,
bard of the Wild Coasts
*
My courage is short-lived, my wisdom fleeting. Fools seek my companionship, while the wise
consult me sparingly. What am I?
[Brian F. Fox]
Answer: wine
Role Players' Rules of Thumb
1. Never play hide-and-seek with a halfling.
2. Never ask a red dragon for a light.
3. Don't bother trying to kill off one of Kevin's characters; they will only come back with an attitude problem.
4. The odds of a player rolling that natural 20 are directly proportional to the necessity of making that roll.
5. The worse the situation the more likely some player is to say, "I disbelieve the illusion."
6. The more players annoy the D.M. the greater the likelihood of a dragon or a murderous trap appearing.
7. No win scenario: a situation which harms or threatens any of Kevin's characters.
8. Never trust a gnomish jester who carries more than 10 weapons at a time, is very skilled with poison, and giggles
demonically.
9. If Pallin offers you a helping hand, it's always a good idea to look first and see whose it is.
10. To ensure making those high rolls, always be sure that you are on good terms with Vic and then ask to borrow
his dice.
--Brian F. Fox
"The Pendulum"
by
Rex Henderson
They scourged and branded me murderer, traitor. The trial was quick,
as just as could be expected before a jury of my Noble (sneer) peers, lackeys
to pleasing the throne. The punishment was delivered swift and as stiff as
the corpse it was sure to make of me.
The executioner's axe is now the pendulum of my life's time.
With each swing another convict's head rolls away like the seconds.
It makes the soul shiver, whimper, because it knows. It knows each death
toll brings you one step closer in that line where no man wants to skip ahead.
It knows the fear that lurks within the criminal heart but never truly
surfaces until they know they're caught. It knows the fate of being thrust coldly,
without mercy, into the face buried beneath that black hood, hollow eyes
staring, pronouncing silent curses upon men that squirm when forced before the
block - Death's pillow upon which heads fall asleep forever.
It is a strange transformation to behold of a man in his unwilling
journey to his death. I feel I am but an observer - distanced, removed, unaffected
standing back here watching the ghastly horror of each head severed from its rightful
place with such force that it is borne through the air, stopped short by the thick
wooden post matted with blood and hair. Then toppling into the blood-soaked
wicker basket festooned with flies, the black cloud explodes from the heap buzzing
angrily in the disturbance of its feast to then quickly settle back down.
But in growing fear and desperation I am compelled to look at
the next of the condemned. Am I the frenzied one wailing and howling,
fighting uselessly against the peasants that wrestle my body forcefully up the ramp,
my legs dragging behind kicking out for a hold, any anchor of resistance.
Am I that other - retired, marching slowly, calmly towards the inevitable
grave. Perhaps the one stricken with shock, my only defense against what is about
to befall, I will have already departed from my body that is being guided by
hands I do not see or feel.
The line shuffles listlessly. Manacles drag and rattle. Wind chimes of
doom. A warm breeze stirs. The sun soaks into the flesh to warm that which is
about to be spilled. Blue skies brim with calm and peace. I think to myself the irony.
I crook my lips into a sardonic frown, the mirth of it all lying stillborn -
Aren't these events to be accompanied with gray weather and dampness to
chill the marrow? But the only gray to be seen is the mound of withered bodies ahead of me.
Limping, I am suddenly pulled forward, another long second fallen victim to the swinging pendulum.
Priestly admonitions rise up over the courtyard with the churning smoke
and embers of a dying pyre nearby. Charred remains loom deathly silent from
their pole chains. Their shadows cut across my body and I think of them trying to
outstretch and embrace me into their ghastly immolation. Some most certainly had it worse than I....
"Betrayal"
by
Brian F. Fox
Part 1
"Greetings, Lord Magus," Raven said and bowed as he entered the archmage's chambers. "I bring good news."
"Indeed? I will be the judge of that," the mage replied coolly. "Have you found our burglar at long last?"
"I have," the half-elf replied. "I believe he will serve your needs quite well."
"We shall see," the wizard replied as he set down his quill. "Take me to him. Time is precious to my plans."
"As you wish," Raven replied coolly.
*
Myloeh casually strolled through the streets of Drakmar, enjoying the coolness in the air which dusk brought as
well as the crowds of people heading out to enjoy an evening stroll or beverage at one of the outdoor cafes. He
loved this time of day, where the afternoon blended gently into night and all the cares of the day faded away. As a
professional thief, he found it natural to combine business with pleasure, and as he sauntered through the crowds
his eye skillfully searched for purses, pouches, and jewelry which presented themselves. He normally enjoyed his
career immensely, but something seemed missing lately. He was unable to put his finger on it, but he found himself
becoming more and more dissatisfied. "No time for daydreaming," he thought to himself. "A careless thief is a
short-lived thief."
The halfling's gaze suddenly locked on a human who appeared to be studying him carefully. The man was dressed
in a simple but elegant tunic and cloak and wore several pieces of jewelry which appeared both expensive and
strange in design. His well-trimmed black hair and short mustache and beard gave him an air of sophistication, but
his eyes revealed a very different side to the man. They were intelligent but also cold and cruel, and they seemed
to stare right through him. Sitting next to him was a half-elf male dressed entirely in black leather armor.
"Greetings, Myloeh. I have been expecting you." Myloeh looked at the two of them and moved toward their table.
"Have a seat," the human said with a smile. "We have much to discuss."
"We do?" Myloeh asked. "You have me at a disadvantage, sir. Have we met?"
"No, but I have a feeling we will become close acquaintances before too long," the mage answered as Myloeh sat
down. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Pallin Barish and this is my servant Raven. I have a proposition for you,
one which will make you a very rich halfling if you are smart enough to accept it."
"What do you have in mind?" the thief asked as he took a seat, his curiosity aroused.
"A relatively simple job, actually. A small matter of little consequence," Pallin smiled. He leaned forward and his
voice dropped to a whisper. "We want you to help us steal a spellbook from a dragon."
"You must be jesting," the halfling laughed. "I thank you, friend, for the joke. You've given me quite a laugh this
evening."
"I make no jokes," the warrior mage replied coolly. "I am offering you the chance of a lifetime."
"Stealing from a dragon? Either you are a fool or insane. I am neither," the halfling said as he stood up to leave.
"A pity it has to be like this, but I am prepared for your response." Speaking a word of power and making a quick
gesture at the halfling, Pallin smiled as the thief suddenly became very rigid as if he were a statue. "We can leave
now. We have what we came for," Pallin said to Raven. Touching both Raven and Myloeh he spoke yet another
word of power and the three of them disappeared in a flash of light.
*
"I would not struggle with those manacles if I were you. The result will be most unpleasant," Pallin said
matter-of-factly to Myloeh. "In fact, these enchanted chains will tighten ever so slightly as you strain against them.
With enough struggle I suppose it is possible to completely cut off circulation to your hands, or maybe even cut off
the hands themselves. It might prove interesting to find out."
"A burglar with no hands is rather useless," Myloeh replied. He looked around his cell hoping for a possible
escape route but saw none other than the door Pallin stood before.
"True, but burglars are relatively common in Drakmar," the mage replied with a smile.
"But not this one. There must be some reason why you have gone to all this trouble," the thief said.
Pallin appraised him carefully. "You're clever for a halfling. I usually find your race quite dull and unimaginative.
But you are correct. I need an expert thief, and you came highly recommended by your guildmaster. I am told you
even possess a certain sense of honor, something quite rare in a thief."
Myloeh looked at the man who stood before him. The archmage was a cruel and calculating man, someone who
instilled no trust in others. He was not someone to go with on such a dangerous assignment, if there even was a real
spellbook to be obtained. "Tell me about this spellbook you're after. You're an archmage; why do you need me?"
"I suppose you may know now," the wizard answered. "What I seek is Straken's Grimoire, a legendary spellbook
of great power. Have you heard of it?" Myloeh nodded. Of course he had heard of it! Every child had been told the
tale of the noble Straken, a legendary golden dragon who defeated the ancient evil dragon Felgoth many centuries
ago in an epic battle bards still sang about. "Straken's lair has remained hidden for centuries, until now," the
wizard smiled triumphantly as he continued. "My research uncovered enough clues to allow me to track down its
location in the Eldritch Mountains and a bit more. It seems that our friend Straken has enchanted her lair with a
spell which blocks any magic from being cast, including her own. It is my intention to have you sneak in and poison
the creature and then retrieve the spellbook. I needed someone who could move so silently, so stealthily, that he
could sneak up on even an ancient drake and then disarm any traps which may be guarding the book. And I believe
you are that someone. In fact, I'm betting your life on it."
"Pardon me for saying so, lord mage, but I'm not interested in your little expedition. To be perfectly honest I think
that your idea is crazy. Now, if you would be so kind as to release me? I am willing to forget about this entire affair
and not report you to my guildmaster."
Pallin looked down at the halfling and suddenly laughed. The laughter was harsh and cruel, causing Myloeh's heart
to sink. "Your beloved guildmaster sold your services to me! There is no honor among thieves, you know. Halfling,
I find you very humorous. Let us hope you are as good a thief as you are a jester."
Pallin snapped his fingers and Raven suddenly appeared, pulling Myloeh along with them as they moved through
the archmage's tower and then down a long stone stairwell. When they reached the landing a young man in a simple
grey robe approached and spoke to Pallin. "The preparations are completed, master. Your mounts await you. May
the gods smile on your quest," he said and bowed.
"I will be satisfied if they simply do not interfere. I trust you with the keys to my tower. Do not betray that trust,"
Pallin replied as he handed him a large set of keys. Their eyes locked for several moments until Darik averted his
eyes.
"Your faith is not misplaced, master. I await your return," Darik said and then turned and entered the tower.
Pallin watched him leave and then said to Raven, "Let us depart." After Pallin and Raven mounted their horses
and Myloeh pulled himself onto his pony, the wizard turned to the halfling. "Ah, I forgot to mention one thing. I am
able to track those chains magically from quite a distance, so please don't get any ideas about attempting an
escape or some foolishness like that." Myloeh glared back at him and then immediately began planning an escape.
He was an optimist by nature, but he had to admit to himself that things were beginning to look pretty bad.
After they had ridden for about an hour Pallin suddenly stopped riding and quickly cast a spell. In a flash of light he
disappeared. "Where did he go?" Myloeh asked.
"Unfinished business," Raven said simply as he looked back towards the tower.
*
Pallin appeared in the room of summoning and quickly moved to his study. It was there he found Darik peering into
his crystal ball exactly as he had expected. "Greetings, Darik. I hope I am not disturbing you."
"Lord Pallin!" he exclaimed looking up from his gazing and quickly gesturing to dispel the image summoned within.
"What are you doing here?"
"I might ask you the same question, but it would be merely rhetorical," the mage smiled maliciously.
"I was simply monitoring your progress and nothing more," Darik protested.
"Really? I detected your scrying for only a short part of my travel. May I ask who you were contacting, or do I
already know the answer to that?" Pallin drew his enchanted long sword, a blade fashioned from a single diamond
ages ago, and stepped toward his apprentice.
"My lord! What are you doing? I have not betrayed you! You do not need to threaten me!" he pleaded as his hands
were raised in preparation for the casting of a spell.
"Ah, Darik, you do think me quite the fool. I have been aware of your betrayals for some time now. Unfortunately
for you I have finally decided to put an end to them, and to you." Darik quickly cast a spell of shielding about
himself, but Pallin's sword cut through it with no resistance and stopped only when the blade had severed the
apprentice's spine. Darik crumbled to the ground, twitching as he quickly bled to death. "What a waste. You had
such a promising career ahead of you," Pallin said as he wiped his blade on his apprentice's robes. He then ordered
his servants to dispose of the "rubbish" and clean up the mess. "Leave him to the wolves and vultures," he said to
the goblin attendant who was buys dragging the body outside. Speaking the word of power once more, he instantly
was transported back to where Raven and Myloeh waited.
"The problem has been attended to," Pallin said to Raven as he mounted his horse and led them off in a new
direction. Myloeh almost asked him where he had gone and why they did not simply teleport to the dragon's lair,
but after looking at the archmage's expression he decided to hold off on those questions for now.
*
After several days of monotonous travel with very little conversation, the group stopped for the evening to make
camp. The Eldritch Mountains had grown steadily closer, and as they grew larger so grew Myloeh's anxiety. Pallin
forbade the creation of a campfire; they were too near the dragon's lair now to take such chances. Grumbling over
the uncivilized conditions of the trip Myloeh asked, "Well then, at the very least may I take a break from these
chains and stretch my hands and arms a bit? It has been quite some time now."
"Release him," Pallin gestured to Raven who produced a strange golden key and released the manacles which
bound the thief.
Rubbing his wrists and massaging his arms Myloeh asked, "How much further must we go?"
"We have but one more day of travel by my estimate," the wizard replied. "Are you in such a hurry to meet the
dragon and earn your fortune?"
"Not at all," the thief said with a note of hostility in his voice. "I simply like to know where we are."
Pallin smiled at Raven and then turned to the halfling. "Well, what do you think of our little enterprise so far? Your
thoughts may amuse me."
"In all honesty, Mage Pallin, not very much," the halfling replied boldly.
Pallin laughed and said, "So be it. What do you think of our quiet friend Raven here?"
"He reminds me more of a vulture than a raven if the truth be told," Myloeh said. Raven glared at the thief, his
hand moving to his dagger as a threat.
Pallin smiled. "Interesting. And me? What of me my opinionated little friend?"
"I'd rather not say," Myloeh said cautiously.
"Why so guarded now? You have been very free with your thoughts so far. Tell me what you think of me," Pallin
commanded.
Myloeh hesitated for several moments, feeling very uncomfortable under the mage's stare. "You make me sad.
You are a desperate and lonely man who neither gives nor takes any joy in life. I believe you seek power to give
you some sort of meaning in life because you have nothing else. I pity you."
Raven was obviously shocked by what he had heard, and Pallin's face revealed a fury which he kept barely under
control. Myloeh knew he had gone too far. The mage's hand moved to his sword, but slowly calm crept back into his
face and he smiled malevolently at the halfling. "You, a halfling thief, pity me? You are a fool, as are all your race.
You know nothing of power or wizardry! You lead your pathetic, miserable little lives that amount to nothing and
think yourselves oh-so-wise." Turning to Raven he said, "What did I expect asking a halfling's opinion? Chain him
to the tree." Myloeh knew it would only be a matter of time before he was considered expendable, and he guessed
it would be immediately after they recovered the spellbook.
To be continued...
"That's my story and I'm sticking to it"
or
"Hobar Mallow Dead!!???!!"
or
"The Trouble with Bastard Gnome Illusionists"
By Bill R.
This following is some disjointed recollections of one of my favorite D&D sessions of all time. I can't remember all
of the details and would appreciate any additions, comments, and additional recollections so that this story may be
more complete.
The setting: As DM, Marty had just finished taking the group through Hell - Literally. Etrogande, Ralph, had
decided that Lucifer should be removed from the throne and Satan put in his place. As a group, we should have all
died from our own stupidity. However, we had attained a level of power which surprised even the DM when we
decided to act as a group. During that session, I remember Marty flipping through the book of Demi-Gods to find
us appropriate opponents. The session ended with Marty porting in 30th level Paladins to join the "good fight" so
that our characters might have a chance. Most of us lived.
That wasn't the session I wanted to talk about, merely the session that precipitated one of my favorite sessions.
Following the trip to Hell and back, Hober Mallow and Etrogande in particular had a little falling out. All characters
who attain such power eventually have a falling out when there is a power struggle. Other members of the group
were also asserting that their characters were the strongest and thus deserving of leadership of the group. Of
these, Bandor (Chris's gnome illusionist) had attained enough levels to be able to cast Alter Reality spells which
were incredibly powerful. The way we were currently playing the spell, the illusionist could cast the spell, go
through a series of events, and then eventually return to the original time of casting as though nothing had
happened.
Marty had recently purchased Drakmar and had been getting used to the city. We had finished the "Hell"
adventure ahead of schedule, so Marty was open to suggestions as to where the group might choose to adventure
to next. That is when we had the bright idea that we might use Chris's new spell ability to solve our problem as to
who was the baddest dude of them all. The plan that was hatched was as follows:
The Plan: Bandor would cast the Alter Reality Spell. All characters would then have a free for all to the death to
determine who had the strongest, baddest, smartest, character of them all. It was decided by a gentleman's
agreement that each character would act alone and that no alliances would be formed. When a winner was declared,
the alter reality spell would be broken, and we would be returned to the time of casting, alive with the knowledge of
who had won the contest.
This was a good plan in theory; however, everyone had forgotten that Bandor had a really warped sense of humor.
The time came for Bandor to cast the spell. When it was finished, everyone rolled for initiative. Then an amazing
thing happened. Everyone began to teleport out of the bar where our adventure began. Characters were leaving
simultaneously. John R.'s character, The Man of Steel, upon seeing everyone else teleport out of the building, ran
screaming through the wall of the bar to get out as quickly as possible. The only person left in the bar was Bandor.
It was then that Chris let it slip, that Bandor had actually faked having cast the spell. Now everyone had a knot in
the pit of their stomach, because a contest to see who was the strongest had now turned into a battle to the death
with only one character surviving. Each person had to play their character as if they did not know that Bandor had
not actually cast the spell.
The Battle: Of the events of the battle, I'm a little sketchy. I remember that Etrogande and Hobar had a one on
one fight with Hobar using his ax to cast a sphere of anti-magic. Inside the sphere, Etrogande was no match for the
dwarf, Hobar. Eventually Etrogande ran to save his hide. Hobar was back stabbed at one point and almost died, but
managed to escape to fight later. Someone's character rang the bell that summoned the Gods of Drakmar. Several
characters died in the aftermath when the Gods of Drakmar actually showed up and trashed the town. Marty had a
lot of fun with that part. We all had a great time and there were many skirmishes during this war. Ultimately, I
believe that Bandor was the only character left alive because he hid till the very end. Chris and Marty conferred
and decided that Bandor had actually cast the proper spell after all. This decision probably saved Bandor's creator
(owner, alter ego, Chris) from getting strung up himself.
AS I SAID BEFORE. I AM MISSING a LOT of DETAILS. I'll start a message on the BB so that Yawl can add
other pieces that you remember. I don't recall who all was in this adventure, but I remember that it was a big crowd.
"Cavalier"
by
Naugrim
Oh�to be a Cavalier. To be a master of military horsemanship. To ride your sweating mount into
battle-his sides heaving, eyes wide, nostrils flaring, and hooves crashing down on the dying enemy. You
can almost feel the excitement, and taste the fear. I remember being a modern-age Cavalier, and I
remember my glorious rides into harm's way. You see, I was a Bike Patrol Officer. Oh sure, there are
some miniscule differences, such as size, speed, a horse, fecal matter, and the incessant buzzing of flies,
but other than that, it's pretty much the same. You try like hell to stay mounted while pursuing the
enemy�or in my case, the bad guys.
Now, I thought I was pretty good at the police bike thing. After all, I had grown up watching ChiPs, seen
several awesome episodes of Pacific Blue, and completed the International Police Mountain Bike
Association's School. I mean, what else was there?
My partner and I (affectionately referred to as Ponch and John, yep, I was Ponch), were stationary on our
highly-polished Mongoose Hilltopper, 21-speed, Rock-Shocked mountain bikes. We were striking a
pose near the Park Theatre after having completed a tour of the down town area. As we gazed out over
the city parking lot, talking about everything and nothing, I reached down to grab my water bottle.
Without a warning, he darted out across the street and shouted a pursuit. I had to wait for two cars before
crossing, but quickly joined the chase. ( No, I didn't have any idea what chase). As we maneuvered
through the lot, I saw the suspect. A tall, lanky male ( obviously a track star) holding what appeared to be
a purse. We crossed over Washington Street and rode into an alley, shifting gears smoothly, feeling
pretty damned good. Yea, this was it. Dun, Dun Du-Dun Dun�.Dun Du-Dun, Dun Dun�Du-Dun,
Dun!!! It was ChiPs all over again. Shoot, we were smokin' and Pacific Blue had nothing on us. As we
bore down on the thief, I pulled my radio from my belt. (Unfortunately, the throat mike's got slashed
from the budget ). Then, just as I keyed the mike and said my number, "156�" I hit the speed bump.
Imagine if you will, chasing somebody on a mountain bike in high gear, with one hand on the handle
bars, and hitting a speed bump. You got it�it was ugly. I believe my last thought before clearing the
handle bars was�Shat!!! The impact must have been similar to having a jousting lance shattered against
your breastplate. When I landed on the asphalt, it was on my back and all of the air in my lungs was
forced out. My horse somehow managed to strike me as it was dashed upon a building, damaging my
new Shimano speed shifters. The radio I had held was lying in three pieces, and my elbow looked like
someone had inserted a large egg under the skin. As I lay there fighting to catch my breath, my partner
pulled up. The fleet-footed thief had gotten away. It was a humiliating defeat that would be hard to live
down.
Man, those guys on Pacific Blue really were good. Oh�to be a Cavalier.