My character: Abaris E’Thanatodees – A chaotic good Half-Elven (Drow) Fighter-Cleric-Mage
Stats : 18/60 / 18 / 18 / 18 / 18 / 5
These figures are genuinely achievable by adjusting that rolls at the start of the game. I choose to lose the points off Charisma, playing as a half-drow. If they are impossibly high for pen & paper addicts, well, the character is a demi-god!
Incidentally, I did play a few time with lesser mortals.
I have recently played a tabletop game where someone rolled a Paladin with 3 natural 18’s and high secondaries – scary
(4d6 drop lowest)
Outcast at birth of a forbidden trist, I and my twin sister – Aradia – were found by a Harper who, through circuitous routes, took us from the frozen wastes of the Icewind Dales to the tower of Khelben Blackstaff. It is not recorded where my sister was taken, but I was given over to the care of Gorian, to be raised at Candlekeep, on the Swordcoast.
Delicate probes and discrete questions revealed that our mother is Drow High-Priestess of Eilistraee who, apparently, was seduced by a powerful human mage.
(I since found out that our father, a renegade of Thay, died before our birth, battling a DragonLich.)
In my studies I have excelled in alchemy and chemistry and, with no false modesty, rivalled the best monks at the abbey at scrivening and bookbinding. From a very early age I showed at ability for magic, scaring Gorian as I pulled at this item and that, marvelling at the blue glow only I seemed to see.
A perfectionist, I am given to mood swings and compulsions, usually taken the form of single-minded obsessions to find or do something. Painfully honest, I tend to be reserved, seeming aloof at all times, though this is my armour against the bigotry of others. Truth seems to hurt and it has caused me a number of beatings, perhaps even more than those caused by my racial features. It can work both ways though; given a mischievous streak, I have, at times taken advantage of my dark heritage to help me in the many fights I got into as a child. Perhaps that prompted my initiation into the priesthood – to help heal the bruises I received – and the cuts I returned…
Going about my duties, dawdling as usual, when some lunatic lunges at me with a knife, something about a price on my head. I fear I hit him rather harder than I expected, but my tutor was most understanding and took a Watcher to clear up the matter, sending me to Gorion, as he felt this was important. I’m going for a lie down first!
Got the usual abuses and stares at the Inn, then went looking for some honest work. Dancing at my luck of finding a few gold coins just lying in an open barrel I entered the bunks instead of the guardroom and another madman lunged at me with a bloody sword. Fortunately, I can my staff to hand. Twice in as many days I’ve had to wipe blood and brain tissue off it’s iron shod tip. I’d better mention this to Gorion today.
I don’t know, here’s Imoen full of gossip about me going away, then Gorion says, pack up, we’re leaving! I think I had better buy a more stout weapon and some body armour, even at the extortionate prices I’m expected to pay. Whatever gold is left I shall give to my Order of Oghma – it may help.
Awoke to a cold, misty morning. Gorion dead! I wanted to help so very much, but what could I do? Should I have stayed, died beside him? No, he gave his life for me, battling the steeled suited lunatic; I’ll head to the Friendly Arm, look for his friends and ask their advice.
What a horrid day. Imoen come running up to me and offered to be my companion. How could I refuse with that infectious half grin, half-smile of hers.
We teamed up later that day with a dubious Halfing and a manic mage. What a pair they are! Quite fortunate too, really, as soon after we were set upon by some filthy Gibberlings – Imoen and Montaron took care of these at a distance, not liking their palor at all – even for these mindless things. Even got attacked twice by wolves as we tried to find a suitable camp for the night (Montaron was NOT happy about have to quoff his Oil of Speed to deal with the beasts).
Xzar has kindly let me scribe Chill Touch and Larloch’s Minor Drain. I was hesitant of learning Necromantic spells at first, but they could make the difference in a heated battle.
This morning we turned south for High Hedge as I recalled mention of a mage dwelling there who is reputed to sell scrolls, potions and enchanted weapons. We can use or barter the items we got from those crazy Xvarts who attacked last night as I searched for kindling for the fire.
Much to Xzar’s amusement, the damned place is crawling with Skeletons – of the walking, knife wielding variety. Still, we amassed a goodly selection of weapons and armour.
We met Kivan today; I say met, the damned Elf took one look at my skin and, well, Imoen intervened and explained the situation. He wasn’t happy, but agreed to stay with us a while provided we help track some bandits.
It must be some kind of poetic justice I suppose. After successfully fighting off all manner of Gnolls, animals gone berserk and the biggest damned spider I ever did see, a Ghoul paralysed Xzar and killed him before I could Turn the undead creature. Montaron went berserk and was still hacking pieces off it long after it ceased moving.
We rest tonight in a cabin we found. There’s a Temple of Lathander to the East of Beregest, fortunately we have enough gold to pay the priests there to try to resurrect Xvar.
As well we rested long because Imoen, scouting ahead discovered two fiendish looking creatures hiding it wait near the entrance to the mage’s tower. Kivan identified these as Flinds and warned for extreme cautious. Looking at their demeaner and those huge swords I decided to stay as far back as possible to remain unseen and cast Entangle, snaring them in vines, while we used the skeletons daggers to discharge them at a distance.
Stopped briefly at Beregost today, where a bright young chap offered us a sum to help his mistress. I had a bad feeling about this – so much gold for so little work – and had Imoen hide in the shadows behind this haughty lady.
My instincts proved true as she intended to double deal some men in town. Seeing the right of it we sided with the tolksmen, where-upon she turned on us. Imoen surprised us all by cutting the treacherous creatures throat from behind, causing the sorceress’s prepared spell to go awry.
It was an experience for us all and, besides a sack of coins, I discovered her staff was enchanted. A good find indeed. Our erstwhile guide – Garrick – was practically grovelling his apologies and begged to join our growing party. If nothing else the bard could sing for our supper tonight at one of the towns many Inns.
Next morning before leaving, we were recommended to visit Taerom’s forge. We were in awe of the well crafted weapons and armour he made and stocked. I vowed to have some full plate armour made to fit my frame, Garrick was singing a ditty about a curiously crafted crossbow, while Kiven was mortified trying to keep our two reprobates from getting us all thrown into gaol for pilfering.
Sadly, the priest at the temple were unable to resurrect our friends, to Montaron’s dismay, but he will stay with us a little longer. However, they have offered us 5,000 gold pieces to bring to task a psychotic priest.
Exploring this area we run into some Hobgoblins of the Chill tribe. Suffice to say their weapons and armour raised us further funds after a jaunt back to Beregest. Further exploration of this area met with disaster in the form of a rabid pack of wolves. Two in particular took no damage from our blows, though they shied from my staff. Battered and bleeding, I cast Entangle, allowing us to flee north.
Met a surprisingly friendly wizard at the crossroads who seemed to jog old memories from my childhood. As we rested on some rocks nearby, I noticed a familiar pale aura in a niche and was amazed to discover a Ring of Protection within. Kivan is in a pleasant mood too, despite the fact some of the deeper bites and slashes he received yesterday haven’t fully responded to my healing powers. A group of bandits surrounded us at one point and Kivan thought he recognised one as those he sought. The ensuring response was short and messy and our Elven friend now has their scalps tied to his belt. Less grisly I supposed than the trophies of one mage I met – he was hunting a group of Hobgoblins who raped his sister…
As our ranger friend was best suited to this wooded area we let him scout around. Discovering an Ogre ahead, we agreed the best strategy was surprise. Casting Magic Missile as the others fired arrow after arrow dropped him is his tracks, though we had to draw swords as some blue-veined Xvants jumped us from behind.
Given the number of arrows we put into the brute I decided to investigate further. It appeared to be wearing two belts. The first I identified as being enchanted against arrows and slashing weapons, and Garrick seemed to know some lore about its history. The other item caused us a few raised eyebrows. Cursed thing was a girdle of transformation, altering the gender of its’ wearer. Was the Ogre we just killed an Ogress!?
Heading north once more we come within site of the Friendly Arm Inn. I had expected something from all the talk I’d heard, but this was a veritable fortress. Resting in the shade of a pine tree before we entered the walled refuge, Kivans sharp eyes detected a glint in the ground, something reflecting the light filtering through the leaves above. Cautiously putting my hand into the hole I practically fell backwards in shock. How can anyone be so careless, so reckless. Just lying there, exposed to the elements was a ring of wizardry. This will increase my mana enough to learn twice as many low-level spells.
As we approached the Inn proper, a wizard accosted me of the stairs. Without so much as a ‘by your leave’ he begin chanting a spell. Imoen planted a dagger in his heart as he completed Fear. In took us a while to quell our hearts and remove the remnants of the incantation. A search of his pouches gave us further gold and three welcome scrolls which I have transcribed into my spell book. Garrick and Imoen have expressed a desire to learn magic, and while I am pleased to other help, I have advised them of the time involved and that removing armour to cast a spell isn’t practical in the heat of a battle…
Disheartened, we turned from the welcoming smells of pipe, ale and pork wafting from the beckoning doorway and turned back south.