# A Neverwinter Nights Fantasy



## Lazybones (Jun 13, 2002)

Greetings!

With _Neverwinter Nights_ finally going gold, and the prospect of months of CRPG goodness ahead, I was inspired to scribble a little homage-slash-parody inspired by the prospect of playing 3e (or at least a reasonable facsimile of it ) online.  Unlike my story hour _Travels through the Wild West,_ this short piece is just a little throwaway project that I began on a particularly boring afternoon at work last week.  

This story is intended as part adventure, part comedy, part parody, so please don’t take it too seriously.  It milks some blatant stereotypes about RP gamers and computer gamers, but in what is (hopefully) a benign and light-hearted way.

* * * * * 

A Neverwinter Nights Fantasy


Graf sighed as he tightened the reins in front of the Golden Drake Inn and dismounted.  The inn, located on the southern outskirts of Neverwinter outside of the sheltering walls of the city, looked as tired as he felt, with sagging eaves and weatherbeaten stone walls marked with cracks half-filled with old mortar.  

Scanning the street for any sign of danger—old habits died hard—he adjusted his swordbelt and stepped inside through the smaller side entrance.

The place was about half-full, with perhaps a full score of assorted patrons occupying the inn’s spacious common room.  They looked a diverse lot, a typical mixture from the wild lands along the Sword Coast.  Graf caught old Worgan’s eye and nodded, crossing over to where the gristled old bartender held court along the long bar of polished mahogany.  

“Ale,” Graf said, tossing a beaten gold piece onto the bar.  “The good stuff.”

“Rough trip?” Worgan asked, pouring him a tall one from the cask under the bar.  

“Rough enough.  Lost three this time, in the tunnels under Vorlag’s Ruin.”

The bartender snorted.  “Wouldn’t catch me going within a mile of that place.  ‘Tis haunted, everybody knows it.”

“Well, I didn’t find any restless spirits there,” Graf commented.  “What I did find was another group of bandits—orcs, this time, with a shaman leading them.  For an old ruin, the damned place seems to be a veritable market square for evil monsters.  Seems every time we clear the place out, a week later—sometimes less—it gets filled up again.”

“Maybe they should seal it up,” Worgan suggested.

“Ah, they’d just find another place to go,” Graf noted sagely.  “Besides, it might be a farther ride.”

The warrior took a long draw from his ale.  For a moment he looked vaguely troubled, but then he shook the look from his expression, and glanced up at Worgan.  

“Anyway, what can you do?  I heard you got a new group for me.”

The innkeeper chortled.  “Oh, yes.  You’re going to like this batch.”  He chuckled again, as if remembering a familiar joke, and Graf shot him a suspicious look as he turned on his stool to face the main doors of the inn.  

A gust of wind sounded through the opening below the doors, and then faded into quiet.  As the innkeeper began to speak, the sound of bootsteps on the porch outside because audible.

“The first calls himself ‘Lord Margos the Just,” a paladin of Helm,” Worgan said.  As he spoke the man’s name, the paladin stepped into the room.  He was a tall, well-built, attractive figure of a man, clad in a shirt of scale mail and carrying a large shield emblazoned with the sigil of Helm.  A longsword rested ready at his hip.  The paladin’s eyes traveled around the room, registering and then discarding each occupant in turn.  There was a haughty look in those eyes, a cold distance that fit with the grim seriousness of their owner. 

“Margos seeks to fight evil,” Worgan explained, as the paladin moved into the inn, finally seating himself at a large, round, vacant table not far from the bar.  “I have not spoken with him long, but methinks that his true ambition is power.”

Graf nodded.  Such a goal was not uncommon among the many adventurers that he’d met.  Usually they ended up finding it under several feet of earth.  

“The next is a Damaran, a barbarian who calls himself ‘Vanguarde’.  At least, I believe that is his chosen name.”  As if summoned by his words a second figure entered the inn, a veritable mountain of a man with a wild beard and shaggy hair that seemed to spring out in all directions at once.  He was clad in a coat of dirty hides, and bore a massive two-handed waraxe.  “I believe he has some sort of malady of the mind,” the bartender added, clearly a bit unnerved by the barbarian.

The barbarian paused in the entry, then raised his hands toward the rafters and shouted an incomprehensible cry that filled the room.  “L33t!  W00t!  Vanguarde ownz NWN!  l33t l33t!”  Then he let out a stupid grin and moved to join the paladin at the nearby table. 

The next figure to enter was a stark contrast, an elven man who seemed frail in contrast to the first two adventurers.  He was clad in the robes of a wizard, and bore an expression of confusion as he looked around the bar.

“Excuse me,” he said.  “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do…”

“Just wait at the table, lad,” Worgan said, gesturing toward the table where the other two waited.  

“What’s your name, wizard?” Graf asked him. 

“Charl—um, Zarath,” the elf said, before hurrying to take his seat.

“N00b!” the barbarian shouted at him, before subsiding into silence.

The next to enter was a serious-looking gentleman armed with a heavy mace and clad, like the paladin, in scale armor.  His true vocation, however, was demonstrated by the holy symbol that hung across his chest, the sign of a sunrise fashioned from iron.  

The cleric immediately noticed the others waiting, and moved to join them.  “Greetings, all,” he said.  “I am Barzoun Mer’Athos, acolyte of the Morninglord, warrior of the Church of the Sunrise, late of Baldur’s Gate, and I am pleased to join this company.  Truly I pray that we may enjoy Lathander’s blessing on this mission, so that we may seek out evil and smite it within the dark holes where it hides.”

The others looked up at him, but did not respond.

Worgan said, “Quite a lot of titles for such a young priest.”

Graf nodded.  The serious ones were always trouble.

The warrior started to rise, but Worgan forestalled him.  “There’s one more,” he said.  

He indicated a short, shadowy figure that detached himself from a group that was gathered near the fireplace, across the room.  He moved across the room with an almost sinuous grace, stepping between and around the other patrons without seeming to make an effort.  He slipped into his chair so smoothly that it took a few moments for the others to realize that he was there.  

“Calls himself ‘Sidon,’” Worgan explained.  “There’s something very dangerous about him, I think.  He would not be one to turn your back on.”

Graf nodded—he’d already come to the same conclusion.

With a slightly exaggerated gesture, the warrior rose and crossed the floor to the round table where the new group had assembled.  As their eyes rose to meet his arrival, he addressed them, “Greetings, adventurers.  I am Graf, journeyman of the Neverwinter Adventurers’ Guild, and I will be your guide today.  You have all expressed a desire for excitement, risks, and rewards, and I can all but guarantee that you will find all in quantity at our destination, the Caves of Abbok-torim.”

“It is a long ride, so we should be departing.  As we journey, please feel free to introduce yourselves and make acquaintance with your new companions.  As always, if you have any questions, please address them to me and I will try to accommodate you.”

“Are you prepared?  Very well then, let us be on our way.”


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## Pillars of Hercules (Jun 13, 2002)

*NOOb!*

Dear lord, I hope it's not quite like that!  

Vanguarde had me laughing from the belly.  Luckily in NWN you can ban Vanguarde and his l33t brethren.  

I'm sure some modules will be like EQ and Diablo.  I hope (and believe) that some will be like some of the excellent story hours on this board.

Man, I'm excited about NWN.


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## Lazybones (Jun 13, 2002)

I don't intend for this to be a long story (certainly not like my novel-length _Travels_ ), but I think 5-6 updates total should do it for a brief dungeon excursion.  More to come!

Do you have your own stereotypes of RPG/CRPG gamers?  Feel free to pitch in with your stories of woe ...

* * * * * 


PART 2

The journey to the caves passed so quickly that it seemed almost instantaneous.  One moment they were leaving the inn in Neverwinter, and the next they were facing the knobby basalt mounds that made up the foothills of the Crags, the rough line of mountains that bisected Neverwinter Wood.  A thick belt of trees ran along the horizon all around them, but directly ahead of them lay a ravine choked with dry weeds and scraggly bushes.  

At their feet lay a strange marking, a green circle bisected by a red arrow that pointed in the direction of the ravine.

“What’s that?” the wizard, Zarath, asked, pointing toward the marker.  The young elf seemed to have some difficulty moving, and he kept drawing and sheathing his dagger, as if unsure whether he wanted to hold the weapon or not.  

“It marks the beginning of the Caves of Abbok-torim,” Graf explained patiently.  “Great dangers—but also great rewards—await the daring within.”

“Bah, let us be about it, then,” Margos said.  He pushed forward, leading them toward the ravine.  “I should be in the lead, I’ve got the best armor class and both Power Attack and Cleave.  I would have gone with the mounted combat feats, of course, but since horses aren’t implemented in NWN…”

The others followed behind, wary of any sign of danger.

The ravine was free of the thick growth of the surrounding forest, its floor of uneven slate cluttered with particularly aggressive weeds that had managed to take hold in the cracks in the stone.  The steep walls of the ravine rapidly rose up on either side to enfold them, and they hadn’t gone very far when they saw several cave entrances gaping invitingly at the base of the cliffs.  

“Which way, guide?” Sidon asked, his eyes darting over every inch of their surroundings.

“It is for you to choose,” Graf replied after a moment.  “My job is just to get you here.”

“Let’s go toward that larger cave in the back,” Margos pointed.  He drew his sword, the long steel blade almost eager in his hand.  

“Vanguarde ownz NWN an all u n00bs!  Kick a$$ w00t l33t!” the barbarian hooted, his great bulk looming behind the paladin as they approached the cave.  

“Thine speech borders on gibberish, barbarian,” Barzoun observed dryly.  “I hope that thy axe is more articulate than thy tongue.”

The barbarian fixed a hard gaze on the cleric.  “U cant handel the fact that im tuffer than all u n00bs,” he said.  

“Indeed,” the cleric replied with a raised eyebrow.  “We shall see.”

They reached the mouth of the cave and entered the darkness.  Barzoun paused to cast a spell, and a shining light erupted from the head of his mace.  The light illuminated a natural passageway that headed into the hillside in the back of the cave, and with the paladin still in the lead they started in that direction.  

Zarath stumbled and got momentarily caught on some rocks near the entrance, but finally shook himself free.  

“Careful, newbie,” Sidon said, with a grin on his face that didn’t quite make it into his eyes.  The young elf swallowed and followed them.  

The passageway progressed only a short distance before it opened onto a large natural chamber, easily thirty feet across with an uneven ceiling some twenty feet above.  A pair of exits were visible in addition to the one through which they entered.  

“Rogue, check for traps,” Margos said, pointing with his sword toward the two exits.  Sidon’s look showed annoyance for an instant, then he shrugged and started into the chamber, moving with a sinuous grace that seemed to embrace the shadows cast by the cleric’s light.  

He had barely entered the room, however, when a sound became audible from the nearer of the two exits.

“Someone’s coming,” Zarath said.

The others all looked at him dryly, then turned back as a group of eight man-sized skeletons clacked noisily into the chamber, their bony claws outstretched toward the adventurers.


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## Jeremy (Jun 13, 2002)

Please don't give me an Margos's please don't give me any Margos's...

Vanguarde's are easy.  Ban.


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## Leopold (Jun 13, 2002)

the rogue should just slay them all and carry out their 1337 l00t!!! W00t!!


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## Lazybones (Jun 14, 2002)

PART 3

The brave adventurers faced their first adversaries, a group of eight skeletons.

Vanguarde did not hesitate, the barbarian leaping forward with another inarticulate warcry.  With a mighty two-handed swing he slammed his waraxe into the body of the leading skeleton, shattering its body into a thousand pieces.

“W00t!” the barbarian cried as the other skeletons moved to attack him.  

Margos had also moved forward, but before he could reach the melee, the wizard pointed at the combatants and gestured the arcane movements of a magical spell.

“Sleep!” he cried, as a pale sparkling glow burst out over the battlefield.  But the skeletons, as undead, were utterly unaffected by the dweomer. 

Vanguarde, being mortal, on the other hand, was not.  As the barbarian slumped into unconsciousness, several of the skeletons started tearing at his prone form with their bony claws.

Margos rushed to his aid, knocking one of the skeletons off of him.  Barzoun also moved forward, his symbol of Lathander held aloft in one hand.  

“Back, foul abominations!  Be gone, in the name of the Morninglord!”

The holy symbol erupted into a fiery glow, and the skeletons retreated to the back of the room, turned by the cleric’s divine power.  Margos pressed after them, shattering the creatures one by one with potent swipes of his longsword.  It took a few moments, but the undead creations did not fight back and they were soon dispatched.  

The barbarian was already stirring, and several shallow gashes were visible on his bulky frame as he stood, his face twisted with anger.  He fixed his dark eyes on Zarath, and strode directly toward him, his face grim as he hefted his axe.  

But Graf stepped between them, shaking his head.  “There will be no party-killing here,” he told the barbarian.  For a moment Vanguarde looked like he was going to attack anyway, even if it meant going through the guide, but then he lowered his axe and strode angrily away muttering more of his incomprehensible nonsense.  

“There’s more than one way to PK someone, even on a no-PK server,” Sidon said with that teasing grin as he shot one look back at the wizard and then moved away.  

Margos strode back, his own face betraying his anger.  “What sort of idiocy was that?” he said.  “You cannot cast a sleep spell upon undead!  Don’t you know anything?”

“I… I didn’t know,” the wizard began, haltingly.  “I just bought the game…”

“What spells do you have left?” Margos asked him.

“Umm… I  have _mage armor_…”

“Come on, you should have cast that the minute we entered the dungeon!  Look, just stay in the back and don’t get in the way.  Newbies…”

Zarath looked stricken, but Graf put his hand reassuring on the elf’s shoulder.  “Don’t worry, lad, we were all new at some point.  It’ll get better, trust me.  You might want to cast that _mage armor_ spell, though—it’ll help if we’re attacked by anything else.”

The elf nodded, and cast the spell.  A glowing field of yellow light sprung up around him, shining for a moment before fading into invisibility.  He then followed the guide as he rejoined the others.  The cleric had treated Vanguarde’s injuries, and once they had all formed up again they moved into the passageway from which the skeletons had come.  

The corridor stretched deeper into the hillside, turning once to the right before depositing them in another chamber.  This one was slightly narrower, if somewhat longer, than the first, and had two exits other than the one through which they entered; another passageway to the right and a heavy wooden door in the opposite wall.  

Margos and Vanguarde started immediately toward the door, but Sidon forestalled them.  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, chief,” he told them.  

Margos turned to face the rogue.  “Why not?” 

“There’s a trap here, in the center of the floor.  Looks like a pressure plate—probably connected to a hidden crossbow or two, I’d wager.”

“Well, don’t just stand there, disarm it!”

“Why risk it?” the rogue said.  “You can just go around, you know.”  With a smirk at the paladin, he walked around the edge of the room in the direction of the door.  

“W00t!” the barbarian said.  “Vanguarde wantz to kick some @$$!!!”

“Charming character, isn’t he?” Barzoun said to Graf and Zarath as they followed the others to the door.  

Sidon checked the door briefly, his hands moving lightly over the wooden surface in a near-blur.  “Looks clean,” he said.  

“Locked?” Margos asked.

“Not anymore.”

“Fine then,” the paladin replied, drawing his sword.  He reached out and grabbed the door’s handle, pulling it toward him.  

Their light illuminated a small room beyond the door.  They could see a small hearth in one wall and another door opposite them, but their attention was primarily drawn to the table in the center of the room, where a quartet of small, four-foot tall humanoids with pointed ears and sharp teeth sat gnawing at the remnants of what might have been a deer.  They looked up as the door opened, and snarled as they reached for their weapons. 

“Goblins,” Margos said, immediately identifying the creatures.  “Attack!”


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## Lazybones (Jun 14, 2002)

PART 4

The adventurers, confronted by a quartet of bad-tempered goblins, leapt immediately to the attack. 

Margos was the first to strike, stabbing the first in the side before it could even draw its weapon.  The goblin crumpled with a strangled cry.  The paladin used his momentum to cleave into a second, but that creature had better luck than its comrade, dodging out of the way of the thrust. 

Vanguarde went with brute force, bringing his axe around in a mighty sweep that nearly clove a goblin in two.  Barzoun was only a step behind, crushing a goblin’s skull with a solid blow from his mace. 

The last goblin looked around at the ruin of its friends and, letting out a desperate squeak, turned and ran for the room’s other door.  It made it perhaps three paces before Sidon drew a small throwing dagger out of a hidden sheath, and in a smooth motion planted the weapon squarely in the goblin’s back.  The goblin staggered hard against the door, and then fell to the ground.  

“Well, that was easy enough,” Margos said, cleaning his blade on a goblin’s cloak before replacing it in its scabbard.  “Let’s go find the boss of these goblins—probably a cleric, since he had skeleton guards.  We’ll probably have our best chance of finding magical items and other loot in his possession.”

“Vanguarde ownz puny goblinds,” the barbarian said.  “W00t!”

“You know, all that shouting isn’t going to make it any easier for us to surprise our remaining foes,” Barzoun noted.

“Bring em on!!!  Vanguarde takes on all n00bs and gobins and boss kleric!  Barberians kicks @$$!”

The cleric let out a tired sigh. 

They checked the bodies for loot—out of habit, really, for all the goblins had was a few coins and some assorted trash—and prepared to press on.  No one noticed Sidon walking over to the hearth, or the silver broach that he found hidden under a loose flagstone there.  

The rogue, of course, did not share his discovery with the others.  

Beyond the door lay another corridor, one that only continued a short distance before opening onto another large chamber ahead.  They could see the glow of light up ahead, and eagerly (some more eager than others) crept forward, ready for anything.  

This cavern was roughly rectangular in shape, perhaps twenty paces wide and nearly twice that in length.  A half-dozen torches in wall brackets shed a bright glow over the place, and several exits besides the one they used were visible along the walls.  A roaring firepit stood under a crack in the ceiling near the far wall, over which an animal carcass was roasting.  Gathered around the firepit were a half-dozen goblins, including a garishly clad figure that could only be the cleric that Margos had been expecting.  The creatures immediately spotted the companions as they entered, and the cleric shouted some command in the goblin tongue.

“He said, ‘Seize the intruders,’ in case you were wondering,” Graf noted.  

“Yeah, thanks,” Margos said, drawing his sword.  “That sleep spell would have come in real handy right about now,” he said as a final dart at the mage, before turning toward the goblins.  “For Helm’s glory!” he shouted, rushing into battle.

Vanguarde, of course, was only a step behind, adding his own battle cry of “W00t!”

The two warriors crashed into the line of goblins, their blades flashing.  These goblins were better prepared than their slain compatriots, however, raising their small shields to defend themselves while they moved to flank the onrushing pair.  One fell, its chest torn open by Margos’s blade, but the paladin in turn took a hit that tore through his armored side.  Vanguarde, too, was struck, a goblin stabbing its sword into his hip after he missed with his first attack with his axe.  

The cleric retreated to the far side of the firepit, where he paused to cast a spell.  A bright blue glow settled around Margos, and suddenly his body stiffened, unable to respond to his commands.  

“Damn it,” the paladin said, as the two goblins facing him shared an evil look and moved closer.  “It’s not fair, I’ve got great saving throws, that cleric shouldn’t have 2nd level spells, damn…”  

He trailed off as the goblins raised their swords to attack him.  “Help!” he finally cried, and it was as if the word was torn from him.  

Barzoun rushed in and knocked one of the goblins back with a glancing blow from his mace.  The two turned from the helpless paladin to attack the cleric, and Barzoun soon found himself hard pressed as well.   

Sidon, meanwhile, had faded into the shadows along the wall, and was creeping toward where the cleric was casting spells into the melee.  The goblin shaman completed a spell of _bless_ing, boosting the morale of his troops as they fought against the intruders.  

Zarath was hanging back on the edges of the battle, holding his dagger again but unable to decide how to help.  He heard a noise behind him, however, and saw another trio of goblins appear from one of the side passages, drawn by the sounds of battle.  

“What do I do?” the elf asked Graf, who was standing nearby.  

“Defend yourself!” the guide replied, drawing his sword and moving to stand beside the mage as the goblin reinforcements charged.  

Vanguarde’s luck had apparently turned, as he missed for a second time against the two goblins he was facing.  The goblins, on the other hand, took full advantage of their flanking of the barbarian, and one stabbed him again, its small sword thrusting deep into his side.  

“C|-|33+3r!  I’ll get you!” the barbarian yelled in frustration, suddenly sounding very much like an uncertain fourteen year old.  He lashed out with his axe once more, this time finally striking down a goblin.  As he turned to face the other one, however, he failed to see the fiendish rat that appeared right behind him, and didn’t know his danger until the beast’s teeth dug deeply into his leg.  

Staggered by his multiple wounds, the barbarian went down.  

Barzoun dropped the goblin he’d injured with another well-placed blow from his mace.  The second one, however, continued to menace him with his sword, and managed a glancing hit that drew blood from the cleric’s shoulder.  The two continued to trade attacks while the paladin watched them, unable to intervene.

“Next time I’ll take a monk, they’ve got the best saving throws,” Margos mumbled.  “Stupid paladins…”

Sidon, meanwhile, had maneuvered into position to threaten the cleric.  Like a dart he slipped out of the shadows and launched a devastating attack with his sword that tore deeply into the cleric’s side.  Crippled by the blow, the goblin leader fell back, but then, as its gaze fixed on the thief’s blade, its eyes widened in a combination of surprise and outrage.

“A +3 sword of wounding?  How did you get that?  This is a level-1 server!” 

The thief smiled darkly.  “I hacked the server reqs file,” he said.  “Go ahead, try to hit me—I’ve got +6 bracers and 22 DEX, too.”  

“So, you want to cheat, do you,” the cleric said, and his voice had grown deeper, more authoritative.  “TRY THIS, THEN!”

And with its words, the cleric began to swell and change, its form morphing until it dwarfed the thief and the other combatants.  Within moments the shaman was gone, replaced by a ten-foot tall monstrosity with red skin, an animal skull for a face, fiery wings, and a huge, flaming sword.  

The combatants around the room had paused as they saw the change, their animosities momentarily forgotten in the drama of what was happening before them.  

“A balor…” Barzoun breathed.

“I’ll still kill you!” the thief screamed, stabbing at the demon with his overly-enchanted sword.  The blade tore into the demon’s flesh, but then the demon reached down, grabbed the thief, and in a smooth motion tore his head from his body.  

“I don’t like cheaters,” the demon said, and as he finished his form shifted and changed, until the goblin shaman stood there again.  

“My apologies,” the goblin said to the companions, as its forces broke off their attack and retreated to its side of the room.  The cleric’s gaze traveled over all of them, over the pieces of Sidon, the _held_ figure of Margos, the unmoving form of Vanguarde.  When he looked at Zarath, he smiled, as if remembering a time long past.  “I’m going to have to start being more selective about who I let on my server, I see that now.  Visit the messageboards at www.enworld.org, where I will be seeking players among the dynamic D&D community there.  For now, I thank you for playing…”

And the goblin waved a hand, and the battlefield, and all of those upon it, vanished.  

TO BE CONTINUED ONLINE…


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## Leopold (Jun 14, 2002)

noooooooooooooooooooo!!!! it's over!!! curses!!


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## Jeremy (Jun 14, 2002)

<grins>

What?  The balor didn't feast upon Vanguard and Margos too?

Who'd have thought Sidon was such a roguish bastich...

Meanwhile poor Graf just fell over dead before disappearing.


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## Horacio (Jun 16, 2002)

Great great story, Lazybones...

And very realistic too


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## Ancalagon (Jun 16, 2002)

Yes, very realistic indeed.

Ancalagon


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## LightPhoenix (Jun 17, 2002)

Hahahahahahaha!!!!

That ending was great!  I especially like how the combat just suddenly ends  

Oh god, wiping tears from face...

Out of all of them though, I'd rather have the wizard...


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## Lazybones (Jun 17, 2002)

Thanks, guys!  It was fun writing it, too--a nice break from my regular, more serious story hour.  

LightPhoenix: I agree, I identify most with the wizard, perhaps because we were all newbies once.  I think the moral of the story is that all of us who intend to run NWN games as DMs need to be careful of those newcomers to D&D, lest we drive away new recruits that can potentially add a lot to our community.  Recently I've been playing some new games online (SoF2, primarily), and at times it can seem very much like a "closed group" to a newcomer.  (Particularly when you're getting your butt handed to you on a regular basis.  Then you learn how to do a double-tap to the head at range with an M4, and it's _sweeeeet_)

So be nice, or the Balor will come to get you... (maybe I'll use that in the intro to my online game )


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