BG2 Bar 7 - BEERnerations

[Nanobyte]

Why do you think most campaigns only support characters up to level 20?

[Encard]

Well, since I haven't actually played PnP D&D, I didn't actually know that... Hmm. Alright, then, Encard is level... hmm... 15? I don't really know... That sounds pretty good, I guess. 15 or a bit higher. Maybe 17ish. *shrug* Is that fine?

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Bow down to the Weasels of Apocalypse! RaBid Fruit Trees! RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!! Miniature Exploding Demonic Demons of Doom, Death and Desruction!
:1drgat1:

[Nanobyte]

OOC: Why does he have to be so high? Can't you accept a low number? 7 or 9? Maybe 11..?

If you use 3rd Edition, wizzies can make their own wands - they cost gold and xp to make, but you can pretty much infuse them with any spell you know

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In the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is pimp.
Lord Raptor's Site

[Encard]

*grin* Very good... I think the question, though, is not why I have to pick a high number, but why you have to pick a low number... *grin* I just like being higher level is the only reason, I think. Lets me have more interesting spells. Bwahahahaha...

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Bow down to the Weasels of Apocalypse! RaBid Fruit Trees! RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!! Miniature Exploding Demonic Demons of Doom, Death and Desruction!
:1drgat1:

[Nanobyte]

For one, that unbalances the campaign. That is like starting a PnP game with 4 level 1 characters and 1 level 17 character. How much fun will that be? And it's not that I pick a low number, the number I chose is reasonable. I don't enter a campaign at almost the support level (20) because that isn't fair to the other players and the DM. Just think of it like this: How much fun would you have if you started BG2 with a level 23 character? Now howabout this: How much fun would you have if you started BG2 with a level 6 or 7 character? Most would say the second, as you get to take challenges, rather than outmatch everything and fly through the game.

[This message has been edited by Nanobyte (edited 08-24-2001).]

[Tancred]

The door of the bar slams open, and in lurches a very tired, wounded, cold-looking Cavalier; but, unusually for Tancred, he has a fixed grin on his face, and his eyes are wide.
"I... I..."
This is all he manages before he topples to the ground, dropping the sword hw used as a prop in the process. As some of the bar's folks help pick him up, they notice - with some surprise - the sword glows golden, and lights up the bar as it did once of old.
Slowly, the Cavalier slides into sleep. But as he goes, helped to a seat by others, he remembers...

***

The cave was empty. Anyone could see that. There certainly wasn't a dragon in it. The party were getting nervous.
"It isn't here." Falco was a good shot and brave for a halfling, but he had a distressing tendency to state the obvious. The others put it down to basic inexperience.
Siona led the way, her Cleric's Staff bright in the darkness, a frown on her face. Behind her, Tancred and Bran, the young squire and heavy-set dwarf, looked warily from side-to-side, expecting trouble at any minute. Behind them, Gariad the necromancer and Falco tried to look 360 degrees around them. Malvolio, the cocky assassin, kept an eagle eye on their route of retreat.
"So where is it, then?" Karnas the sword was irrepressable as ever. "HELLOOOOOOOOOOO?"
"SHH!" The party didn't often act as a team as well as Siona might want them to, but on this one occasion they shhed with one mind. She smiled, shaking her head slowly at the world in general.

"I don't like this." Bran was getting more and more nervous by the minute. "It's a trap, I can smell it."
The party had walked now for fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes perhaps; deeper and deeper into the cave. Siona's scrying came up with nothing. Gariad's divinations were blank. It was quiet... far too quiet for a dragon's cave.
"What need has a Dragon of a trap?" wondered Falco aloud. "Surely all it has to do is just come out and go raaagh as breathe fire at us and stuff."
Tancred turned to the bemused halfling. "Dragons aren't your usual beast, halfling. They think. Damn clever, they are. We learn sagas about dragons at the Order."
Malvolio snorted his disdain for education from the rear of the party.
"Hold on... I can see something! Glowing in the distance!"
Bran squinted his eyes, trying to make out what he saw. The rest of the party readied weapons, said prayers, and prepared themselves.
"What kind of glow is it?" Siona tried to make out what the canny Dwarf could see. "Dragonfire?"
"No... not fire... it's... GOLD! Jeepers, lads, we've found the Dragon's hoard!"
Bran made to run ahead, but Siona caught him by the arm.
"Hold! We are not here to pillage this place!"
"To the Abyss with that," drawled Malvolio. "Hell, the Dragon's not here, the hoard has got to be far more than the Witches have promised us!"
Gariad and Bran echoed their agreement with greedy cheers, and began to run for the hoard. Siona yelled at them to stop, but greed had overtaken the three malcontents; cursing, she ran after them, Tancred and Falco behind her.
Gariad would never see the gold he craved so much.
With a deafening explosion, part of the cave wall was smashed aside as the party ran by; rocks and stalactites were sent flying in all directions, and rock dust billowed out. Gariad's screams were almost drowned out as the rockfall covered him, burying the wizard and crushing the life out of him in one horrifying instant.
As the dust cleared, a new sound echoed through the cave; the roar of a Dragon...

Falco was the first to react; amazingly, the newest and least experienced member of the party was already firing arrows even as the others forced themselves out of their shock. The dragon, vast and threatening, loomed out of the darkness like a demon of old legend, flame licking around its' jaws. It's voice was like thunder.
"PERISH, PATHETIC THIEVES!"
Perhaps it couldn't see them in the dust; but it knew where to aim. Even as Tancred, Malvolio and Bran ran forward and Siona began chanting a spell, the dragon breathed forward a gout of flame in the direction the arrows were coming from. Falco didn't even have time to scream before he became nothing more than a pile of charred bones.
Tancred felt a moment of panic and fear - two members of the party down, and the Dragon wasn't even scratched. But as the vast creature advanced, all of them were swept up in the moment; it was too late to run now.
Siona finished her spell with a flourish, and at her command a great tree began to sprout and grow in the rocky floor of the cave, underneath the dragon. It forced roots down into the Earth seeking moisture, and spiralled upwards looking for light, driven by the holiness of Chauntea. The dragon was caught in it as its' limbs and body were caught in the suddenly enveloping branches, branches that stretched and whipped around it like willow. The dragon struggled, but to no avail.
The fighters reached the creature. Bran was already bezerk, Tancred noticed; his eyes were glazed, there was froth in his mouth and he yelled battlecries to the Dwarf gods as he swung his axe at the Dragon's vulnerable belly. Malvolio worked at the creature's legs, trying to use his twin swords to hobble the beast. Tancred swung Karnas, yelling his family's battlecry, carving deep but small wounds into the Dragon's flank. Siona began chanting again.
Panic began to fill the Dragon. what had started as an ambush had turned horribly - bu it was not a creature without resource. If the strength of its' limbs did not prevail, it knew what would.
Fire engulfed the dragon's form, spreading across its' body from its' vast mouth, burning away the wood and blasting the adventurers backwards, singed and sore. As the tree caught fire, the dragon pulled against it, snapping branches and freeing itself from the prison of wood easily. Of the adventurers, Bran was first on his feet; he seemed not to notice the burns he had taken and was already running forward, axe whirling in a circle of sharp steel. He leapt high towards the dragon's bulk, but underestimated its' speed; the dragon's long head snaked down and caught the Dwarf in mid-air, a single bite cleaving the doomed Bran. The Dwarf's battlecries were cut off abruptly as the Dragon swallowed.
Tancred got to his feet, groggy and hurting. He shook his head to clear it, and as he did so caught sight of a black-clad figure running for the cave exit; Malvolio. Tancred yelled after him, but the assassin did not stop. The cavalier cursed. Damn that coward! If I ever see him again...
"HEY! Holy-boy! The dragon..."
Karnas' yell brought Tancred back to reality. The dragon was on the move, already advancing upon Siona, whose chanting was becoming more and more urgent. Tancred ran forward, screaming atr the top of his lungs, hoping that perhaps he could distract the dragon enough to allow Siona to cast her spell...
The dragon paid Tancred no heed, but Siona was swifter. With a cry of exhultation, her spell was complete, and a huge wave of bees appeared from her outstretched hands, whirling towards the dragon's head. Their buzzing filled the cave, and they began stinging anywhere they could; the dragon's scales were no defence against these tiny pinpricks. But pinpricks they were, and a distraction only; Siona began chanting again, the words of power coming to her mind easily.
Tancred chopped down at the Dragon's shins, giving thanks to his great-grandmother as the enchanted sword cleaved through the dragon's scales like so much paper. Distracted, confused and in pain, the Dragon roared as it thrashed about, clawing at the air and wildly flailing with limbs the size of carriages. Tancred was caught by a buffet from one of its' legs as he swung for another blow, his shield splintering as it absorbed the blow - but he was sent across the cave floor, hitting the rock-pile with a jarring thud and clattering to the floor. He yelled in pain as several large rocks, dislodged by his passage, crashed onto his left leg. He pulled, but the rocks would not give.
The sword, where was his sword? Tancred reached for Karnas, lying a few feet out of his reach, but only clutched air. He snarled in frustration.
"Karnas! Help me!"
"Who do you think you are? Mordenkainen? I'm no dancing sword, holy-boy."
Tancred began a retort, but the sight before him drained him of bravery.
The dragon began breathing fire in its' panic, across the cavern, hoping to burn the insects that swarmed around it. Hundreds of the bees were caught in the maelstrom, charring and withering in the fierce heat. A blast struck Siona; only a glancing flicker of flame, but it was enough to send her reeling to the floor, her concentration broken and her skin burned.
Tancred yelled, and pushed at the rocks holding him fast, but they would not budge. He turned back, only to see the horrifying tableau of the dragon moving to stand towering over the elven cleric. As she looked up and saw the Dragon's mouth, wide open and studded with sword-like teeth, she screamed; a scream that echoed Tancred's own as the woman he had loved for so long was about to disappear down the throat of a dragon. He shut his eyes, and said a frantic, desperate appeal to Helm in his head, tears already streaming from his eyes...

[This message has been edited by Tancred (edited 08-24-2001).]

There was a resounding CLANG! Siona, crouching, heard the smash of metal on bone and her hair stood on end from the crackling - The dragon reared its head in pain, electricity playing around its mouth

The gold-armoured figure with the two shields was now in front of Sions - "I told you to GO!!! And you dare attack a woman in front of the God of Chivalry?"

The dragon roared flame against Shield's 2nd body - Shield angled both shields to form a wedge in front of him and the flames rolled past him. Siona could feel the heat

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In the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is pimp.
Lord Raptor's Site

[Nanobyte]

After polishing his Moonblade, Rhazor opens the sheath, and begins to place the sword inside. Before he is finished the blade falls to the floor. A few turn to see Rhazor standing in disbelief. He stands staring at his hand, or what used to be where his hand was. Rhazor turns his head slightly, and raises his other hand. Both of them, now, were dissipating. In a sudden 'Poof!', Rhazor was gone. His bow and scimitars drop to the ground. Rhazor has been summoned, but he does not have his weapons.. A few of the bar attendants walk over to where Rhazor used to be, and where his weapons now lie. As they bend over to pick up his items, the Moonblade shines brightly. The sword spins in the air, and flies through the window into seemingly nowhere. As some of his fellow adventures tend to Tancred, the remaining watch as the sword disappears into the darkness.

[Tancred]

And now, part 2.

***


There was a shout, and a sound like blades meeting, followed by the sudden roar of the dragon. Tancred opened his eyes, hope suddenly replacing the abjection. A knight stood over Siona, striking sparks from the Dragon's teeth, forcing the creature's mouth back. A helm was upon his head, but Tancred recognised him; it was one of the strange party that they had met in the Aldenwood, a week before. He had said little then, but here he was, wielding a sword with a speed Tancred would not have believed.
Thahklarii'yt roared as the feeling of having one's teeth hit with a sharp piece of metal penetrated his nerves. He drew back as the warrior who had seemed to come out of nowhere circled around him, away from the maimed cleric on the ground. The dragon struck, but the sword whirled around, the combination of a swing and a leap backwards somehow parrying the dragon's claws. From the rock-pile, Tancred yelled encouragement as he battered the rocks that held him trapped his his free foot.
Another strike, this time from the Dragon's mouth as it whipped forward, but the knight was ready for the attack, swinging his notched sword upwards in a vicious arc that split the Dragon's lip. The dragon advanced on the warrior, who gave ground quickly, leading the dragon away from the now-unconscious elven woman.
A sweep with both claws and bloody maw now, but the knight saw it coming; a duck and a dive to the ground avoiding the snapping teeth and claws of one hand, the strike with the sword as the knight surged to his feet cutting deep into the dragon's other claw, between the talons.
Thahklarii'yt moved its' claw to its' face while sweeping at the floor to keep the knight back, but as it looked at the slowly bleeding claw it realised its' mistake. The knight had kept hold of the sword, embedded in the claw, and now he swung himself onto Thahklarii'yt's snout. The dragon shook its' head in surprise and alarm, but not before the sword sliced again and part of the Dragon's world went first red, then black. The knight was sent clattering to the floor of the cave, muffled cries of pain emerging from the helm, but the dragon roared in pain and outrage, clutching both claws to its' ruined eye.
At last, the rocks gave way, and Tancred scrambled to his feet, running towards the dragon, scooping up his sword ready to assist the warrior. The dragon was blinded, surely the two of them could finish it now?
The knight had regained his footing, and seemed to be standing over the charred mess that had been Falco; but as he stood, he could see the Dragon gaze upon him with fury burning from its' good eye. From across the cavern, Tancred could see the knight's helm turn towards him, and heard the frantic cry, muffled by the helm he wore:
"*RUN!*"
As the dragon roared again, the knight took off, running back towards the glow of riches at the back of the cave. Tancred began to pursue, but stopped as the knight yelled back at him; and his gaze flicked between the dragon and the still form of Siona, still crumpled against the cavern floor. Duty and love warred within him for a second; before the clear favourite won.
Scooping the frail, barely-breathing form of Siona into his arms, Tancred looked once more at the receding forms of the knight and the dragon, wondering what on earth he had just witnessed, and who had come to their aid.
"Helm forgive me," he muttered, as he began to run out of the cave, hoping against hope there was still time to save the woman in his arms.

***

Tancred glanced back, catching a fleeting glimpse of his younger self picking Siona up and running for the exit. Despite the dragon on his heels, Tancred mentally breathed a sigh of relief. Well, he thought, that bit went alright. What happens now doesn't matter.
He tried to remember what he did next, and then realised that he hadn't seen himself do this bit of the fight. It was time to make it up as he went along, reflected the Cavalier - with more than a little pathos.
Thahklarii'yt thundered after the young Cavalier, murder on his mind. Tancred had hoped running through the dragon's hoard might slow the dragon a little, but no chance; the maddened beast had smashed its' way through piles of gold, jewels and artifacts like a charging bull in a potter's yard, intent on his life. Now it smashed aside huge stalagmites to keep up with him.
Tancred heard the tell-tale sharp intake of breath amongst the din in the cavern. He dived behind a pillar of rock as blistering heat washed around him, the dragon's breath charring the very rock; then he dived forward as a swung claw demolished the pillar he had been sheltering behind.
It was fast, a lot faster than he remembered. Or was he just slower?
There had been an explosion, he remembered. He had just got to the exit, Siona in his arms, when there had been a huge explosion and the cave had collapsed in on itself, burying the dragon - he assumed. He led the Dragon further and further into the centre of the network, hoping against hope it was stupid enough to follow - and clutched the ring he had taken from Falco's charred skeleton. With any luck, it had the power to do what he hoped it could do.
Folco's magic ring - what had he called it? The Ring of the Sheep? The Goat? The Ram?
Right. About now looks ok.
Tancred turned, darting over to the left as the Dragon screeched along the rocky floor, coming to a stop. Now half-crazy with pain and fury, the Dragon leapt at the knight with abandon, slashing and biting, breaking rocky columns and scoring deep grooves across the floor of the cave as Tancred dodged aside, carving his sword in arcs designed to keep the dragon's attacks from getting to him. Slowly, he lured it onwards, readying himself for -
With a bone-jarring impact, a flailing claw caught him, sending the Cavalier flying, numb. Somehow, miraculously, Tancred kept hold of his sword.
The dragon charged on, smashing a clenched talon-fist into the rock where Tancred had been a moment before; Thahklarii'yt earned another slash in his lip as the Cavalier rolled to his feet, muscles and bones protesting in pain.
Now seemed as good a time as ever, thought Tancred, as he opened his hand ready to use the...
Where was the ring?
He had been using his sword two-handed. Damn it! The ring must have been knocked aside as he had landed! Tancred looked about him in mounting panic, but had no time; the dragon was already preparing to breathe flame, and the paladin could barely dodge the blast as it followed his frantic dive. Tancred forced himself to his feet, but he was nowhere near fast enough now; bruised, battered, he barely had time to raise his sword before a claw again smashed him aside.
Pain - REAL pain - struck him now. The claw had sliced right through the armour, almost slicing right into the stomach; as it was, a wound in Tancred's side bled freely, staining the rock and his armour red.
Damn, he thought, dazed and barely conscious. I'd only just got the armour repaired.
He raised himself up, hand clamped to his side, as the dragon's mouth moved forward, snake-quick. Simple reflex saved him then, as he raised his sword, to see the dragon quite literally impale itself upon the blade even as it sent him spwaling again. Thahklarii'yt squealed and tried to prise the blade out of its' nose, but to no avail; the blade had stuck all the way to the hilt, and the dragon's blunt claws couldn't grip it carefully enough.
Wounded, weaponless, Tancred crawled away, hoping that maybe the dragon would miss him; but no such luck. Stung, bleeding, now with a needle pricked deep into its' nose, the Dragon wanted payback. It saw the wounded Cavalier flounder away, and moved ready to devour the weaponless human in a single gulp.
Tancred could hear the vast thing move up behind him, still strong and with enough strength left in it to crush him ten times over. It was a Dragon after all; powerful, old as time. He only wondered how his great-grandmother had managed to slay one...
Suddenly, as his vision cleared, he saw it, laying on the ground, a few feet before him.
The ring!
He scrambled the last few feet forward, even as the Dragon's jaws champed down at him. Grasping the ring, Tancred rolled onto his back, pointing the ring straight at the Dragon's head. With a silent, desperate thought, he hoped it would fire...
A sudden blast of magic echoed across the cavern, as a charging spectral ram hurtled from the ring Tancred held, moving with incredible speed and force. The dragon saw it coming and barely dodged, but dodge it did; bringing its' head to one side as the magical ram hurtled past. Tancred watched it with a sinking heart, as the Dragon turned to him and laughed.
But the Ram carried on; up and up, until with an audible SMASH it cannoned into the cavern ceiling. Already weak as the dragon had demolished many of the rocky pillars that held the cave open, this massive impct into the roof of the cave caused cracks that quickly spread across the whole roof. Stalactites and huge chunks of rock fell, hammering into the rocky ground with the force of vast hammers. The dragon and the cavalier stared at the rocky sky as, with a sudden and terrible impact, the sky fell in.
A stone glanced off Tancred's helm, and then it all went black...

***

Slowly, consciousness returned, and with it the pain. There was pain in his side, pain in his heads, pain all over his body; from some torn ligament or bruise, everything ached. With groans and muffled hisses, the Cavlier got to his feet, pushing aside the debris and snow that covered him, and tried to remember where he was. It was snowing, the sky was grey and overcast -
Memories flooded in, and with them a contradiction. SKY? Hadn't he been underground?
Tancred looked around him, with mounting wonder and amazement. He HAD been underground - rock lay everywhere, and a cave streched away before him. Rock was all around him; but here, the side of the a mountain had collapsed inwards, letting the sky through the vast hole in the rock.
Tancred gasped as he saw the dragon.
Half-buried, the once-mighty form of Thahklarii'yt had been smashed down by the brutal rockfall. Stalactites and rocks had battered and pierced the powerful, armoured body of the creature, dealing it blows of such strength that even a dragon could not stand against it. The creature's head lay only a scant ten feet away from the Cavalier.
A close thing, this, he thought. Just a few more feet and I'd have been buried too.
He caught sight of the hilt of his sword, still stuck in the dragon's nose, and he limped across the snowy rocks to get it. It was stuck fast - a few tugs were needed - but as the blade slid free Tancred marvelled to see it once again glowed with the holy power of the gods.
Kneeling - because he both was overcome by awe, and because he lacked the strength to stand suddenly - he looked at the sky, and offered a prayer to Helm.
Thank you, he thought. Thank you for this.
If Helm heard, he gave no sign.
Slowly, Tancred got back up, and began to limp away, towards the woods in the distance.