Midnight, not a sound from the pavement...

[Brightshield]

Hi folks.

People who play D&D - or many other roleplaying games - accumulate large funds of stories over time.

So - tell us Tell us about the time you saved the day with some heroic action - or boldly snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.

The time that lucky roll pulled out a victory for you against the odds - or your sure-fire thing turned to dust because of a botched roll.

[~Valourie~]

*Walks on pavement to produce sound*

[Brightshield]

Well, lets set a good example by telling everyone about the last session. We played this yesterday as I write; Sunday night.

The campaign was a restart of one which had ended badly for the PCs, with more than half of us left with no equipment to their name. None at all.

The party, arriving almost destitute in Port Clifford, was struggling with their low level of equipment; the fighters had no weapons, the rogue no thieves tools etc.

Port Clifford is dominated by the temple of Hextor, and it is not a nice place. Prices are high as the temple taxes everything.

One of our number joins the adventurer's guild. He learns of a job. A local lady is offering 50gp for clearing some giant rats out of her basement. Of course it is more complicated than that. Among other things there are also some rats in the loft, and we start with those.

To get into the loft it was found necessary to stand on a chair and then pull yourself up through the trapdoor in the ceiling. Our rogue did this, and was promptly set on by the rats, who bit him.

Then we were allowed to go to initiative. Two more of us got up into the loft, while the rats bit at the first arrival, leaving him in a precarious position; 5 hp I think. He stepped 5' backwards. Straight into the trapdor.

He knew what he was doing. He wanted to get out, so he stepped back and dropped. He was given a tumble check to take no damage, failed and struck his head on the back of the chair. Knocking himself unconscious. Yes, the DM rolled a 6 for falling damage... He landed at teh feet of the party cleric. It could have been worse, I suppose.

So at this point the score was rats 1, adventurers 0. And we were all laughing quite hard.

When the battle resumed, the rats were quickly dispatched, and things returned to normal. At least until we discover what the rogue's failed Fort saves actually mean - next week...

[Julia of Hillsdown]

*sees a Rogue wererat on the horizon...*

Might I suggest dispatching of him now, before he gives you any trouble?

[Brightshield]

To be honest, the rats apeared to be two simple dire rats and a fiendish rat. Dont think there will be any lycanthropic complications.

Not this week. Next week, as we explore the sewers? Who can tell.

[Jingzu Lunaria]

BrightArm said:

At least until we discover what the rogue's failed Fort saves actually mean - next week...

Hm... I imagine that those might be diseases. Rats are rather well known for carrying a ton of those. Fiendish Rat? Hm... I don't know the DM, so I can't say, really, but he may have added a nasty poison or really nasty disease to that particular rat. Something I would have done.

[Catriona]

Ask me if I'm surprised.

[Julia of Hillsdown]

I rarely ask for the obvious these days

And it might be more than just a simple disease

[Mecrinus]

Once upon a time...

Good start for a story, eh?

Back in the mid 1990s we started a campaign with a twist. The DM had just started, and rather than create a whole new world, he dusted off one that other players had designed but which was not running any more. To add a twist, he planned a civil war.

The seeds of this war had been planted some hundreds of years before when a wizard named Cornelius summoned a demon. Summoning was a hazardous business; there was a small chance that what was summoned was free of the summoners control. And a smaller one that it was something else altogether, not bound to return when the summoning ended.

The thing that became know as the Demon of Cornelius terrorised Delaware for many years before a pack of brave adventurers managed to put down the threat, and everyone could live happily ever after.

They thought.

The being had not even been touched, you see. It was not even a demon, but a death knight. It hid, and plotted, and planned. Until what it waited for came.

The king of the Humans had twin sons. They grew to maturity. As they did so, the demon carefully plotted, inflaming the heart of the younger with desire for power - not that that was very hard. There was enough confusion around the time of their birth that only a very little work meant that it was possible to challenge the birth order.

The boys grew, the old King died. The elder brother succeeded to the throne. The younger brother listened to the call of power, and sold his soul for the chance to be King. A civil war erupted between the brothers.

[Mecrinus]

After the civil war had been won by the usurper, and everything had shaken down, the land was ruled by the evil ones. They controlled the cities and the coastal plain, roaming at will.

They did not go in for burning and despoiling everything - they owned it after all. The orcs and worse things (have you ever seen a fatling?) wandered the city streets. The demon Mordelaine (aka the Demon of Cornelius) ruled from the palace in the capital. One oif the leading cities was run by a lich.

Free humans and other peoples lived in caves in the mountains, waiting for the orcs to come and invade, wipe us out and enslave us.

The small village of Hope's End nestled in the mountains, magically obscured by powers beyond our ken. There we gathered, we fledgling heroes, hoping to defend our peoples and perhaps - just perhaps - be the band that freed the land from tyrrany.

[Brightshield]

For those who really want to know, he had some sort of debilitating fever that does temporary ability damage, not lycanthropy.

And the rats - if they mass they can send balls of electricity at you. Ouch.

[Sieg]

Lady's grace, cutters! I've got a story for ya, if ya willin' to listen...

Well, I was playin' ya's truly, Sieg. This game took place in a pre-war sort o city, a fine capital to the chief Power o the world, Selendria. It even had her name. Fine city, rich city. Great city to borrow jink from the drunk populace, too.

I think it was two drunks in the first night, after I was done sellin' the chant for the day. The first berk was fairly drunk, easy to borrow from. The second was out cold on the street. Really easy to borrow from. The third was a fellow thief, so we just had a laugh that we tried to borrow from each other and went our ways after checking our jink.

Next day? That's where things get fun. Got up and went to do me best to borrow some more. Decided to go with somethin' a bit more... risky. Needed a challenge.

As it turns out, it wasn't a challenge at all. The noble berk didn't see it comin'. Even offered to get the store manager for the flower shop for him after picking his pocket. The manager was drunk and on halluci... however ya spell it, drugs that make ya see stuff. Anyways, this berk saw me as a fairy. Told him the noble outside was tryin' to steal his flowers. He went out, sayin' fairies never lie. Arguing started right fast. Well, I decided to take advantage o the situation and emptied his register. Waltzed out through the window and back home. Heard rumors about the fairy the next day.

Well, that's all for today. Watch the Spire, cutters!

[Mecrinus]

Hope's End was a place well hidden in the mountains. Not that we knew it then, but a great power had hidden it from everyone's eyes, and itself as well. Nevertheless, people leaving the protected valley were always a concern. Suppose they were captured by the enemies, and talked, eoither by coerciaon or of free will?

When we were finally allowed to leave, our small group of young adventurers, we were worried over by our elders.

In those days there was nothing physical to mark nme out from others. I appeared fairly typical in every respect. I had had my training in magic from master Malroy, and needed to try out my skills.

Our foirst few forays were strictly controlled - as strictly as they can be when the nature of adventuring demands improvisation. But one went wrong, bigtime.

We had come across a hidden valley, and exploring it we found a stone pillar with a spirit imprisoned. It spoke to us, telling us a tale of jealousy, of how its foul brother had imprisoned it thousands of years ago. It begged us for release and promised us whatever aid lay in its capacity.

Our divine spellcasters attempted to learn what they could about this spirit. The druid among our number communed with the spirits of our land and affirmed that it was telling the truth. So the party decided to free it. The details of the necessary ritual were discovered.

[ooc : I missed the session that was played out in, not that it would have made any difference I suspect.]

We gathered the necessary items, not without incident, and began the ritual. The power built, and then the stone split asunder. The release of those energies knocked us all out.

When we came too, the valley, once so pleasant, was dead and blasted. The grass was sere and brown, and the trees of the nearby forest all dead and petrified.

We left, finding the zone of the dead vegetation extended something over one mile in radius. I was beginning to worry, which only increased when we stopped to eat and found out that our food was rotted.

Eventually we got nback to Hopes End. Having talked through the events on the long, hungry hike home we went to Master Malroy and asked him abiout what might have been the cause of the death of the vegetatoion.

Master Malroy confirmed our worst fears - that such devastation was the result of the release of a demonic spirit. He asked about the size of the blasted area, and about the state of our rations. When we confirmed that our rations had been rotted, he stated that only one demon could have caused such an amount of devastation.

Orcus.

We had released the Prince of the Undead back into the land. The DM completely suckered us.

We never had much worry over him though, as other things - most notably the demon Mordelaine - claimed our attention.

Not to mention my personal troubles...

[Mecrinus]

Yes, my troubles.

[ooc : the game lapsed somewhat for several years, as the changing circumstances of the DM, otherwise known as "children" left him insufficient time to GM for a long while. It was during that time that 3rd Edition came out, and when he did start running games again, he ran a different campaign for a while. When he decided to continue with Delaware, many years had passed...]

Early on in the campaign it became obvious that there was something strange about me. In particular, I seemed to have an affinity for magic.

Around the tiime that I reached 6th level the DM told me privately that I no longer needed material components to cast spells.

I started dreaming - peculiar, vivid dreams. Dreams of a civilization very different from mine, ruled by dragonmen - people with some of the characteristics of dragons. In my dreams I was always a being of great reverence and authority, someone who gave orders, and someone who had command of the most powerful magics.

As my power grew, so did the dreams. Then came the day I collapsed.

Several years had passed since the campaign had started, and my old master had died of a weak heart. I had been left his tower, his magic items and his wealth. The day I reached the dizzy heights of 11th level, I collapsed in my tower, convulsing. I came close to dying (aka, I only just passed the Fort save). My friends had to break in to the tower to nurse me back to health.

As I recovered, I changed my physical form, growing scales, vestigal wings and tail, claws, and the reshaping of my mouth to more closely resemble that of a dragon. A silver one, to be precise.

I live in trepidation about what might happen to me when we next play. Perhaps I will find out one day...