Volo's Interview

[Butterfingers]

This is a slightly older piece of work. Since folks share stories here, I thought I would contribute for your reading enjoyment. This is my namesake Bard, Butterfingers, probably the most enjoyable character I have played. And, with out a doubt, one of the most powerful. Thank you for your time and patience, as I have only recently began to improve my writing skills and tried to become something more then the butcher of the English language. I hope you enjoy.

This is an interview with the famous Volo from Baldur's Gate, depicting the chronicals of Butterfingers the Bard. Butterfingers was first played solo. After his creation, I knew I wanted to to try him in a party. So I exported his character file from the very beginning of his solo adventures so I could do so. Butterfingers, being a solo character, was rolled with power gaming in mind, and, it took me forever to get the rolls I needed to survive.

Str, 18, Dex, 18, Con, 15, Int, 14, Wis, 13, Chr, 18. After all of the various tomes in BG, this brought his stats to 19, 19, 16, 15, 15, 19. Yes, I know. An amazing character who was a lot of fun to play. In solo play, Butterfingers was the Jack of all Trades, and, the Master of Running Away. In a party, he really came into his own, being able to fill nearly any role. Leader, spot warrior, mage, even a cleric in a pinch because of his special abilities, cure light wounds and slow poison.

So... On with the show. Volo's Interview.

Volo: So, Imoen, we shall start with you, as you know him best. You are his sister correct?

Imoen: (Blushing) Yup. We are a brother-sister tag team of thieves, the best on the Sword Coast. Before you ask about how a Half Elf could have a Human sister, we were both foster children to Gorion.

Volo: Indeed. Quite a figure Gorion. Many mourn his passing, as do I. So tell me, Imoen, how did one of the most famous rogues on the Sword Coast end up with a name like Butterfingers?

Imoen: (Giggling) Well, since we were children, Butterfingers and I stole each other's toys and pick pocketed each other for kicks. Wasn't much else to do in that stuffy library. For Butterfingers, it became a real game when he started relieving the Monk's and the Watcher's pocket contents. He stold pens, paper, pennies, lint, what ever his devious little fingers could get ahold of. Gorion had to start checking Butterfingers' pockets on the hour, and, making him return the stolen goods. It was all in good fun and it got a lot of laughs and nobody was really ever that angry. It was impossible to be angry at Butterfingers... He is just so charming. Anyways, one day, a man named Terminsel came to the keep. And Butterfingers stole his pipe. It turns out, it was a magical artifact and Terminsel was not pleased to see it stolen. The entire keep was turned upside down looking for it, and, it was found, right as Gorion predicted, when they found Butterfingers hiding in a cellar room. Terminsel was quite flustered, and, dealt out a terrible punishment. He cast a modified Grease spell on Butterfingers' fingers, that lasted a whole year. Poor Butterfingers. He became a fumble fingered fool. He could barely feed himself. His fingers were so magically greasy, he could not dress himself, but, I will leave those tales to others of how he went streaking around the Keep, naked as the day he was born. It was during this time, he became known as Butterfingers, his real name passing into the mists of time. By the end of the year however, he was back to picking pockets, better then ever, taking his skill to new hights, because he could pick your pockets while his fingers were still under the Grease Curse. While this must of caused Gorion no end of grief, I am sure on some level he was proud. It was afterall, his own son that was becoming the most legendary pick pocket of all time.

Volo: Could you tell me about the "Static Cling Incident" and how Butterfingers started becoming a fearful name in the arts of Magery?

Imoen: Well... Butterfingers was still young, in human years, he would have been a teenager, I was still but a girl my self. You see, there was this onery fellow named Obe the Illusionist who lived in the Keep. One day, a fateful day, Butterfingers filched a scroll from the pocket of Obe's robes. He came to me excitedly and told me that somehow, he was able to actually read the scroll's contents. The scroll was a scroll of Shocking Grasp. Somehow, he commited the scroll to memory. The next day, Obe spoke to Gorion about his missing scroll. Gorion spoke to Butterfingers. Butterfingers explained he had tried to read the scroll and it had vanished into a puff of smoke. Gorion made Butterfingers go and apologize to Obe. Butterfingers did so, as charmingly as possible, and, offered to shake Obe's hand. Little did Obe know, Butterfingers had used his arcane knowledge just moments before, and, poor Obe. The smell of burnt woolen robes fill the courtyard of the keep. His screams brought every Watcher and Monk around. Gorion had even hiked up his robes and came running. He found Butterfingers, looking stunned, and, found Obe looking fried. Butterfingers tried to explain he thought it was a simple cantrip, a prank, something harmless. There was much talk in the Keep. Terminsel, Gorion's friend was called in, and Terminsel used a Limited Wish spell I think to wipe Butterfingers' mind clean of the arcane knowledge. Butterfingers was also banned from the magic section of the library. Spellcraft became his favourite forbidden fruit, and, from that day on, he was always trying to get his hands on scrolls.

Volo: One last thing Imoen, tell me about the Gnoll Fortress Incident... I am curious.

Imoen: (Falling into fits of laughter) I'll try, but, it will be so very difficult. We were on our way to rescue Dyna, a friend of Minsc's, who was captured and locked into the Gnoll Fortress. Butterfingers and I had met Minsc in Nashkel, Butterfingers had thought it odd that a man was standing in the middle of town muttering to a hampster. Being attracted to odd things, Butterfingers had talked to the man, and, had offered to help the obviously disturbed man find his friend. Minsc is a giant... A huge hulking muscle bound brute. I had some concerns about invading a fortress full of Gnolls, but, Butterfingers assured me it would be ok, He had a cunning plan. Anytime Butterfingers has a cunning plan, I start to worry. There was another woman, Branwen, also traveling with us. A warrior cleric. So it was four of us, invading a Gnoll fortress, with only Butterfingers' cunning plan to save the day. As we started making our way to the fortress, Butterfingers started singing. He broke into a bawdy song, a terrible song, a sick song of a drunken human man so tanked that he had an orgy with seven Gnoll females. Minsc, who by the way, is a Ranger, who hates Gnolls, was disgusted. His face looked like he had bitten into a rotten sour lemon. As Butterfingers' song went into intimate detail of errotic acts performed on the Gnollish females, Minsc started breaking down, highly disturbed by the contents of the song. The very idea of somebody doing those things with Gnolls, a human man, with the species he hated so much, irked him terribly. Minsc began twitching, convulsing, and bellowing for Butterfingers to stop in the name of all things good and wholesome. Finally, Minsc could take no more, something in his head must of snapped. He cried out, "Make way evil, I am armed to the teeth and packing a hampster!" and he just went berserk. He ran ahead of us, sword drawn, screaming and tearing about. Branwen started to follow, but, Butterfingers held her back and put his finger to his lips, and, tilted his pointy ear upwards, to the fortress. We could hear the screams of Minsc, the yelps and whimpers of Gnolls being slaughtered. It was a horrible sound. Then we heard Minsc shouting "Filthy Gnolls, keep your bitches away from me, I will have nothing to do with any of them no matter how much I drink!" And then more yelps, whimpers, and shrill shrieks of pain. Finally, it was quiet. There was no sound at all. The rest of us quickly made it up the walkway, entering into the ruined fortress, and, found Minsc, standing bloody and battered, surrounded by the bodies of dozens upon dozens of dead Gnolls. Minsc's burning stare fell on Butterfingers, and, the large man came over and grabbed the scrawny half elf by the collar. "I understand why you do what you did... NEVER DO IT AGAIN!" Minsc shouted. We rescued Dyna from the pit the Gnolls kept her in, and the rest, well, the rest is history.

Volo: Yes, I have heard the song. Butterfingers had it scribed and sent to all of the play houses. It is currently in the Baldur's Gate Top Ten, number two on the charts I think. Very popular in seedy alehouses from my understanding. Thank you for your time Imoen.

Volo: So tell me, your name is Xan and they found you trapped in the mines? You became one of the Six after your rescue, falling in to what has to be one of the most famous mercenary bands of all time.

Xan: Yes, I had languished in those vile mines for far to long. How the Dwarves live in those awful holes I will never know. I am a Greycloak, a Noble Elf. I had been sent to investigate the mines and the source of the corrupted iron. An evil Half Orc captured me.

Volo: So I understand. You also weild a famed weapon called a Moonblade, and, you are a Mage of considerable power, and, yet you got captured?

Xan: (Whom I might add, looks quite irritated that I brought those things up) Well, I underestimated the odds. I went in alone, foolishly. I ran out of spells. There was hundreds of Kobolds I tell you, maybe thousands! I fell to overwhelming numbers. Rather then face an ignoble death at the hands of filthy Kobolds, I surrendured.

Volo: Indeed. I guess I would have done the same in your position.

Xan: I am glad you finally see some reason.

Volo: Yes, please go on.

Xan: Well, life is a terrible depressing thing really. I am an Elf, meaning I will have a long miserable life. Woe is me. Butterfingers is a balm that relieves the irritating itch of life, one of the few people I call my friend. He is a good leader and his future is promising. Did I mention he is the only man that has ever made me laugh?

Volo: Really? You laughed?

Xan: (Who looks even more dour then usual) Yes. We were in the Friendly Arm Inn after rescuing a dumpy Dwarf named Yeslick from the Cloakwood Mines. We had had a major victory, but, I was feeling under the weather and sitting by my self while the rest of them celebrated. I could tell that nobody wanted me around... For some reason I seem to ruin people's good moods. I have no idea why. Butterfingers excused himself from the rest of the group and came over to sit with me. He gave me a sly look and asked, "Have I ever told you of the cursed Dwarf Throwing Hammer?" I replied to him no, I had never heard of such an artifact. I also asked that shouldn't that be "Dwarven Throwing Hammer?" Butterfingers grinned, that impossibly handsome devilish grin that lights up a room and replied, "No, it's a Dwarf Throwing Hammer. It is cursed in such a manner that when a Dwarf goes to throw it, it throws the Dwarf! Right into his enemies... But tell me Xan, what is the greater curse? The hammer, or, having a squat, smelly, sweaty Dwarf thrown at you?" I laughed so hard that mead shot out of my nose. It was so embarassing... Me, a Noble from the High Court laughing and shooting mead out of my nose like some common barfly. The indignity. I can never show my face at the Friendly Arm again, Oh the agony of it all! This interview is over. I have embarassed my self. I must go!

Volo: Ahem. Ok. Well, that will be an entertaining footnote in the history of Butterfingers. Moving right along, we have my interview with Branwen.

Branwen: What do you wish to know?

Volo: What was your part in the Six?

Branwen: Before I was kicked out?

Volo: Yes. Please tell us all you care to tell.

Branwen: Butterfingers found me as a statue, turned into stone by an evil mage named Tranzig. He restored me, and, I offered my services in return. I offered him so much more later... But he turned me down. Ah, what a fine man he is. His voice is stronger then any Skald in my homeland. His skill in battle is unquestionable. He is a strong leader and an even stronger man. He is a strong warrior, I respect that. He promised that we would hunt down Tranzig and put an end to him, but, first, we had to do a few minor errands. We had to rescue a witch from a fortress filled with Gnolls, and, clear some Kobolds out of a haunted mine. I take it from your smile that you have already heard the Song of the Seven Bitches? Well then. It was after we cleared the mine that we found out Tranzig of all people was involved, and, what great fortune, he was staying close by in an inn in Beregost. We broke into his room and Butterfingers ordered Minsc to grab the ratty little wizard. Tranzig was clearly terrified, but, refused to spill his guts. Butterfingers ordered me to break his legs. I took my hammer and did so proudly, sweet sweet revenge! Tranzig spilled his guts and begged for his life, offering everything he knows if only we would let him live. Butterfingers agreed, and, I got angry. He turned, winking at me, that devilish wink. I am a proud strong warrior, but, something about the half elf's wink made my knees weak. My anger melted away. I was glad to be wearing a helm, so that no one might see me blushing. Tranzig told of everything he knew. He was a beaten bloody mess, Minsc had ecouraged him a few times, none to gently. Tranzig had asked if he could go, Butterfingers had said yes, and, apologized for the brutality, stating he only did so because he had to. Tranzig had nodded, and stated being the sort of man he was himself, he understood. Butterfingers offered his hand to Tranzig, saying he was dreadfully sorry for the rough treatment, that he felt bad, and, Tranzig accepted. Tranzig suddenly lit up, brighter then the sun, electricity arced down Butterfingers' arm, flowing into the mage. A burning smell filled the room. All of us had watched in horror, including my self, as Butterfingers killed under the guise of mercy. We all saw another side of him that day. His face was cold, emotionless, dead. His eyes, which usually burned with a bright and merry twinkle, were cold dead black orbs. "All of you will pay" the Half Elf had hissed, still holding the mages hand, the mage still convulsing "I know you are part of the reason why my father died... All of you will pay!" And with those words spoken, he let go, and, Tranzig's burned, blackened body fell to the floor, smouldering, filling the room with a terrible stench. I should note that Imoen looked especially terrified, which is understandable, she is a spineless common thief. However, for a moment, it looked as though she seemed haunted by something, maybe something from the past. Had Butterfingers done this before? I don't know.

Volo: So why the breakup?

Branwen: (I should note, she looks quite sad at this point, nearly heartbroken) Well many will asume it was because of the bickering and the fighting. I am a warrior, proud and true. I fight for the sake of battle, no more, no less. We stopped being warriors at some point. Politics became involved, and, I wanted no part of it. It sickened me to cheapen our cause to serve anything other then pure battle. We were battling the Iron Throne, and, playing a political game of hide and go seek. I grew disgusted and made my feelings known. Our actions were not those of warrior born! And, there was that witch.

Volo: Witch? You mean Dyna?

Branwen: (Spitting with anger I might add) Yes! That witch. She stole him away from me. He was mine. I nearly had his heart in my fist, to make him mine. My man toy. My plaything. Before we invaded the Cloakwood mines, while we camped in the wilderness, I pulled him aside one night. I had grabbed him in a passionate embrace. He said I was crushing him against my armor. I told him I wanted to crush him in other ways, to make him a man. I asked him if he wanted to place his sword in my sheath. Ah, the Half Elf, he is so very fragile. He has bird bones, but, that makes him no less a man. He was desireable. He started stammering... Mumbling. So innocent while in the arms of a real woman. I think I scared him. He wiggled loose and ran away. He was fine when he flirted with the spineless weak witch, but, when confronted with a real woman, he fled. Such is life. Then he dumped me for a Dwarf! a Dwarf of all things! While in the mines he abandoned me. Oh how I cursed him... Cursed him and desired him all at once... He looked so manly, so commanding, telling me to go.

Volo: And?

Branwen: I have nothing else to say to you.

Volo: Well... Isn't she interesting? Please, Branwen, don't let the door hit you on the way out! Oh my, if looks could kill. Anyways, on with the story.

Volo: Next in the line up, Yeslick. Please, tell us noble Dwarf, how you became part of the six.

Yeslick: Aye... Pansy mage, flattery will get you everywhere.

Volo: As I was sure it would. Please, tell us your story.

Yeslick: Butterfingers is a man of questionable character. He is part pansy Elf. Part human. He is both a thief and a mage. A mere rogue...

Volo: If he is all of these awful things, why did you follow him?

Yeslick: (Whom I should note for future reference, should not be interupted, he looks like he has a high capasity for violence, which is odd because he is meant to be a man of kindness and healing) Well, he rescued me, freed me from my home which had also become my prison. I might not agree with his profession, but, if there might be honour amoung thieves, Butterfingers is the only one I know where I would believe such words. He is not selfish. He offers his wealth to both strangers and his friends. He has a voice, he sings, bringing peace of mind and focus while in battle. After battle, his soothing words can wash away the fatigue and the horrors of the fight, giving us all the strength to carry on. I would follow him into Hell I would. He is a solid rock, something I can place my back against in battle and know it will be well defended. He has a gift of leadership. While he might not be the strongest warrior, or the most powerful wizard, or even the most gifted thief, he leads well. You find your self trusting him. He is a fine man, my friend.

(Volo's Note; At this point the Dwarf became to teary eyed to continue. A good man indeed, if he can bring a tear to the eye of a Dwarf. I should make it a point to get to know this man my self.)

Volo: So, should I call you Dyna?

Dyna: Yes, all my friends call me that.

Volo: So I am your friend then?

Dyna: Of course dear Volo. You have treated me with great kindness. Thy decency is refreshing when so many I meet are lacking.

Volo: (Blushing) Why thank you my dear. Would you mind telling us your part of this amazing story?

Dyna: Minsc, who is my bodyguard, and I my self, were ambushed. Minsc tried to follow, I left him a message through magical means that he should not be so foolish and to go seek help. He did so, traveling to Nashkel. Where he found Butterfingers and Imoen. For a while, I doubted his mental capasity and judgement, enlisting two thieves to rescue me, I later realized his mental facilities were quite sound in this choice. Who better to sneak into a fortress full of Gnolls then two canny thieves? Also, Butterfingers inciting Minsc into a berserker's rage was a move of sheer genius. I could hear the song while sitting in the pit, being carried in the breeze, the Gnolls could hear it as well, and while their understanding of human speech was limited, they got the gist of it. They sat around howling and laughing like hyenas. The chief did not feel threatened by what he thought was one wayward bard stumbling into his fortress, indeed, plans were already being made to go out and meet this singer of songs, and, press him into employment. Needless to say, the Gnolls were quite surprised to see Minsc, in a mighty berserker rage, ripping through their ranks like a scythe through wheat. The Gnolls were winded from all the howling and laughter, and, Minsc made short work of his surprised breathless foes. Butterfingers himself ventured down into the pit, bowing grandly, he is really quite the showman you know, and took my hand and led me up the treacherous steps to safety. I thought Minsc would crush me he was so happy to see me. Butterfingers must have been a good man indeed, Minsc was wearing shiny new platemail, something I know he could not have afforded on his own means. Out of his own pack, he whipped out a beautiful robe with a showman's flourish, and, wrapped it around my shoulders to protect me from the chill mountain winds. Oh my, he does play the part of a dashing highwayman so very well. I found my self blushing, for the first time since my training, when I had a crush on my instructor. Minsc pulled me aside and explained the Deal. The rogue would only help, in exchange for assistance in return. Ah, so clearly I saw it then. Butterfingers really was both practical and quite mercenary. I agreed, and told Minsc that it would be ok, as Butterfingers' quest coincided with our own, investigate the troubles plaguing the Sword Coast. There was a mine we had to investigate, reportedly filled with demons. I was hesitant yes, anybody would be going into a mine filled with demons. But something about that rogue... I would follow him into even darker places...

Volo: That's quite a story my dear. I take it you were infatuated with the half elf then?

Dyna: Infatuated? No. I don't know. He is so charismatic. So charming. Who could not feel something for him? While we were in Baldur's Gate, in the Elfsong Inn, Butterfingers invited me to go upstairs with him, "So we could exchange spells and magical information" Minsc, even though his head wound left him rather simple minded, is no fool. He snatched the scandalous half elf, and hoisted him up by his collar. With his feet nearly two feet from the floor, there was no trace of fear. He merely looked at Minsc and smiled.

Volo: And then what happened?

DynaWho is both giggling and blushing) Butterfingers explained his true intent.

Volo: And?

Dyna: "Minsc" he said, a laugh nearly in his voice. "I have no desire to harm your witch. Indeed, I have a different stake in mind, to set her ablaze with a fire of a different sort. A fire of passion... A burning flame of searing love." Minsc of course, looked very angry. I feared he would go berserk. I could see that vein throbbing in his neck. He then dropped the Half Elf into a heap on the floor, laughing. "You are a funny little man, Half Elf!" He had bellowed. "A great prank you play." And for a moment, he turned serious, then whispered, "If you touch her, break every bone in your body I can."

Volo: So... Did he?

Dyna: Hmm? Did he what?

Volo: (Chuckling) Well did he? Did you? I suffer from great curiousity my lady, and, I must know, well, did he, did he um, did he.... Did he burn the witch?

Dyna: (Winking) A lady never tells, and, I fear for his safety should Minsc ever find out.

Volo: (Chuckling) Very well. Thank you so much then for your time. Anything else you should like to mention?

Dyna: The fires he starts are even hotter, and more blazing then the fireballs he is prone to throw when he is angered. I thank you as well Volo, for your time. You are a good man.

Volo: Ahem. Well, I am really getting to the real history of Butterfingers today. Shall we continue the interview or take a breather dear reader? Ok, continue we shall. Next up, the mighty Minsc, destroyer of Gnolls!

Minsc: Who wants some?

Volo: Not I Minsc. I wish to hear your tale? How did you and the Six make such a name for your self?

Minsc: I made a name for my self in full plate, and packing steel!

Volo: Indeed, you are an impressive figure. I thought Rangers were meant to be stealthy?

Minsc: I thought so too. Butterfingers told me after gave me the plate mail, to wear it proudly. I asked him how was I going to sneak up on evil and scare it to death... His reply was smart, so smart. "If they fear you then, think of how much more they would fear you, knowing you are coming, and, there is nothing they could do about it? Think of it Minsc... The sound of Mighty Minsc, clanking in plated mail, coming for you, the dread... the terror... Oh the horror!" And, well, I agreed. He was right. And then he mentioned that plate mail would give Boo so many new nooks and crannies to hide. How could I resist? Even now, Boo runs around in my armor, so many places to go. How it tickles me so!

Volo: Indeed. And what of Boo?

Minsc: Boo is my best friend, well, him and Butterfingers. But Butterfingers can not hide in my armor, nor would I want him to. But he has been known to hide behind me on many occasions.

Volo: Whom? Boo or Butterfingers?

Minsc: Butterfingers of course. I am his bodyguard as well, as was part of our deal. I would take crossbow bolts for him, I would face a hundred arrows, and, I have on many occasions. He is a fine leader. I would battle the Legions of Hell for him, I would die for him I would. Should I die, I know I would live on in his songs, his incredible songs. T'would be such an honour!

Volo: True, I hope that one day I might have a song wrote about me. Any thing else you would like to say?

Minsc. No. Not really, I must get back to the common room where the others are waiting, as I do not trust leaving Dyna alone with Butterfingers any longer then I have to.

Volo: Alrighty then, mighty Berserker. May one day you live among the stars, and all songs of your name prove to be most glorious.

Minsc: Why thank you. Remember, Evil round every corner, must be careful not to step in any.

Volo: Aye my friend.

Volo: And now, our guest of honour. Butterfingers himself, the man on his way to becoming a legend. Some day, bards will sing of him.

Butterfingers: (Sitting down, cracking his knuckles, putting his feet up on the table and lighting a pipe.)

Volo: Hey, that's a nice pipe.

Butterfingers: Why thank you my good sir. I just aquired it... In a game of chance.

Volo: Really? You must be a lucky man.

Butterfingers: Of course. I make my own luck. But you are a mage, dear Volo, a better one then my self no doubt, surely you understand all about making your own luck.

Volo: Of course, you flatter me needlessly. I am already impressed by you taking time out of your busy life just to speak with me.

Butterfingers: Volo, it is I whom is flattered. The famous Volo, wanting to hear my story. Do you remember our first meeting in Nashkel?

Volo: Of course. (Volo's personal note; The Half Elf really is charming, people speak the truth. I find my self for the first time, flustered and unsure of what to do or say. Quite facinating.)

Butterfingers: I am, as you know, a Bhaalspawn. Different Bhaalspawns have different gifts to make them special, mine, no doubt, is my charm. It allows me to slide through life like a greased pig through a gap in the barn. People love me, my enemies adore me, and, I hope I do not sound boastful, but, right now, I am probably the most loved man in Baldur's Gate after disposing of my not so charming brother.

Volo: For sure my good fellow. You recieved a Hero's Welcome upon your return from the Undercity, where, just a week before, the whole town was trying to kill you thinking you were a murderer.

Butterfingers: Much has changed. Duke Belt has even given me an honest job, working for him. As both an entertainer and, well, other rolls as well.

Volo: No doubt those other rolls would include you being a spy and a professional gossip.

Butterfingers: Volo, my good man, you and I are gentlemen, we should not speak of such distasteful things here. But yes, my other "Ahem" skills should have me traveling to Amn soon along with the rest of the Six as an emissary for Belt.

Volo: Anything you would like to tell us?

Butterfingers: Like what?

Volo: Like your real name perhaps?

Butterfingers: (Spilling out of his chair with laughter) You know, Volo, I honestly don't remember. Some day, I shall have to return to Candlekeep and find out wont I? There is much I don't know. I wish to know more of my past, and, my purpose. But for now, I am being paid well for honest work, well, as honest as work can be for one such as me, and, my life is full of many good things. Might as well enjoy the sun shine while it lasts.

Volo: Of course. Anything else?

Butterfingers: Yes, if I paid you a gross amount of gold, think you could distract Minsc for a few hours?

Volo: No my friend... No amount of gold is worth my life. Minsc is a large powerful man who would probably snap me in half.

Butterfingers: (Looking dissapointed I might add) Well that would be dreadful wouldn't it? I guess I shall have to put him under a spell again. His mind is damaged, you see, and I fear for his safety every time I put him under.

Volo: You sir, are a good friend, and I hope to hear more from you again soon.

Butterfingers: I am sure you will. By the way, there is somebody else here that wishes to tell his story. Should I send him in when I depart?

Volo: Sure. Please do, and thank you again good sir.

Volo: (Looking up, is quite surprised) I did not expect to see you here!

Terminsel: I had to tell my part of the story.

Volo: Sure, sit down. Make your self comfortable Elminster.

Terminsel:You have mistaken me for someone else! I am Terminsel, not this Elmister you speak of!

Volo: Elminster...

Terminsel: Yes?

Volo: It's Elminster not Elmister.

Terminsel: Oh of course... Hey wait, I told you, I am not Elminster.

Volo: Of course not old man, but, the resemblance is uncanny.

Terminsel: (Who is, I might add, is giving me a stare that could freeze water, he really needs to trim those poofy white eyebrows) Now where was I? Oh yes. I am his friend from early childhood. Also, on his quest, I spoke with him several times, and, guided him to his glorious destiny.

Volo: Wait, I thought Elminster was the unknown benefactor who guided him?

Terminsel: You ninny! I am El, er um, you twit you made an old man all confused! Curse you. Many people mistake Elminster and I for each other. We look an awful lot alike you know.

Volo: Indeed you do. Please, settle down. Make your self comfortable.

Terminsel: (Who really does have the most frightning glare when he is angry) So yes, where was I? Do you mind if I smoke? (At this point, he begins fumbling around his pockets looking for his pipe)

Volo: Not at all, please, feel free...

Terminsel: (Whom I might add interupted me) That DAMN little scoundrel!

Volo: What? Pray tell, what it wrong?

Terminsel: (Who hears the clattering of chairs out side the door and the clanking of armor, as well as the patter of soft soled leather half elven feet, and, believe me, he looks very angry) That damnable little rapscallion stold my pipe again! The nerve! That rotten sorry little rogue! He never learned his lesson the first time that you do not steal Elminster's personal pipe... Damnation, he is probably already half way to Amn by now... CURSES! Shame on you Half Elf, you discredit Gorion's good name!

Volo: Elminster?

Terminsel: Yes?

Volo: You were pretending to be Terminsel again, you have your personalities mixed up yet again old man, you said Elminster's pipe.

Terminsel: Damn! I told you, I am not this Elminster you speak of! I never said no such thing! I must go and rescue my pipe... Do you have any idea how much trouble he could cause with that pipe?

Volo: Well, my last guest departed in quite a huff, and, understandably so. I guess this interview is over, untill a later time perhaps.

[Raistlin Majere]

LOL! A brilliant story! Long but very entertaining. You really caught the Npcs personalities there. I laughed hard in some parts, and even harder in the rest. Damn i love these stories. Good work Butterfingers. on the side, you have inspired me to start a bard game in BG1. I guess i should thank you too.

[ 01-16-2003, 02:51 PM: Message edited by: Raistlin Majere ]

[Sythe]

These are stunningly amazing a cool Butterfingers!! Keep it UP!

[SixOfSpades]

An abysmal attempt at the English language. You misspelled "capacity," and said "roll" where the correct word would have been "role." Overlooking these glaring savageries to my mother tongue and condescending to read still further into this festering bowel of unpleasantness, I cannot help but see that any hint of continuity, plot, or depth of character is wholly absent from this bleak and dreary excuse for a feeble narrative.

Furthermore, I feel compelled to point out your sheer lack of gaming ethics. Your style seems to be to merely seize everything within your grasp in your maniacal, avaricious dash for what you so foolishly percieve as greatness. You must be the most obscene example of a powergamer it has even been my utter misfortune to happen upon, and no doubt your contemptible imagination suffers most cruelly for it. Roleplay, you idiot, that's where the fun is. Don't you even know how to roleplay?




[ 01-16-2003, 08:27 PM: Message edited by: SixOfSpades ]

[Butterfingers]

Actually Six, the irony in your post is rather biting. Butterfingers WAS roled with nothing but power gaming in mind. But, like the rest of my characters, he needed some sort of story, some sort of filler, some sort of content to bring him to life. Sort of like the sort of cheese you had hoped to achieve with your Half Elf Cleric Mage who went out and did all sorts of unspeakable evil that we all know and love so well.

Once I can figure out what angle I want to tell the story from, I plan to start writing his adventures in SoA. He has been incarnated as a Blade, a Skald, and a Jester. The Blade was a party work, the Skald and the Jester both highly successful solo shots. His character is still developing, and, once I find the direction I want, there is so much more to tell.

[Annatar]

Wejoooooo really liked the story.. (long read but yea was worth it )
like the Minsc and Boo parts

''''''Minsc: I thought so too. Butterfingers told me after gave me the plate mail, to wear it proudly. I asked him how was I going to sneak up on evil and scare it to death... His reply was smart, so smart. "If they fear you then, think of how much more they would fear you, knowing you are coming, and, there is nothing they could do about it? Think of it Minsc... The sound of Mighty Minsc, clanking in plated mail, coming for you, the dread... the terror... Oh the horror!" And, well, I agreed. He was right. And then he mentioned that plate mail would give Boo so many new nooks and crannies to hide. How could I resist? Even now, Boo runs around in my armor, so many places to go. How it tickles me so! ''''''

NICE [img]smile.gif[/img]

[SixOfSpades]

Originally posted by Butterfingers: Actually Six, the irony in your post is rather biting. Butterfingers WAS roled with nothing but power gaming in mind.

Ooops! By the time I'd gotten all the way to the end, I'd forgotten what his stats were. Sorry! [img]smile.gif[/img] One of the things that tickled me the most was how you opened your post with an apology, ("Thank you for your time and patience, as I have only recently began to improve my writing skills and tried to become something more then the butcher of the English language,") and then launched into a highly entertaining story that contained, what....like six typos? "Butcher of the English language," my foot. [img]smile.gif[/img]

I suppose I could have just said that the 1st time around instead of dishing out the vitriolic sarcasm with a two-ton snow shovel, but hey, one likes to keep one's talons sharp. ("Festering bowel of unpleasantness," )

[ 01-17-2003, 07:29 PM: Message edited by: SixOfSpades ]

[Butterfingers]

Well, you see, I was raised in the South. My grammer and English has been tainted by my Southern upbringing. Now, country don't mean dumb, we have names like Faulkner, but, let's face it, I was born grammatically challenged. It haunted me in my college years.

It was not until I went online a long long long long time ago and started hanging around BBSs that I even considered improving my communications skills. It was not until recently that I actually put a whole lot of effort into making sure I looked like the educated sort of folk I am, not the country dumb ignorant hillbilly reckneck I can appear to be.

In college, I was told I could never be a writer. I am trying to prove them wrong [img]smile.gif[/img]

[Pyrenk]

LMAO. Butterfingers Skin Balm™ Coming to an Adventurer's Mart near you.

[Sever]

Excellent writing Butterfingers. You've captured each character's individual traits perfectly. I wonder - have any IW bards penned the lyrics to the Song of Seven Bitches?