Chapter #0

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                                +   +
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                            +           +
                          +               +
                        +                   +
                      +                       +
                    +      THE ADVENTURERS      +
                      +                       +
                        +                   +
                          +               +
                            +           +
                              +       +
                                +   +

+    Many of the locations, non-player characters, spells, and      +
+  other terms used in these stories are the property of TSR, Inc.  +
+  However, this does not mean that TSR in any way endorses or      +
+  authorizes their use, and any such items contained within these  +
+  stories should not be considered representative of TSR in any    +
+  way, shape, or form.                                             +
+    The player characters contained in these writings are copy-    +
+  right 1991-7 by Thomas Miller.  Any resemblance to any persons   +
+  or characters either real or fictional is utterly coincidental.  +
+  Copying and/or distribution of these tales is permissible only   +
+  under the sole condition that no part of them will be used or    +
+  sold for profit.  In that case, I hope you enjoy them...         +
+                                                                   +
+                                  Thomas Miller                    +
+                           +
+  Date:        11/4/569 C.Y. (Common Year)                         +
+  Time:        evening                                             +
+  Place:       the city of Fax, in the Wild Coast                  +
+  Climate:     cold                                                +
+  "The end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we         +
+   started, and know the place for the first time."                +
+                           - T. S. Eliot                           +

                           0.  Prologue

  The tall, black-cloaked elf strode through the streets of Fax as
if he owned them.  Perhaps, in his own mind, he did.  The name of
Belphanior would not go unknown for long, that he had vowed since
that years-ago day he had first come to Fax.  He had done well here,
his little supply shop providing an excellent cover for his other
occupation.  The real trick was to hit targets sporadically and
occasionally.  No one would link the burglaries he had committed,
for he'd changed his methods and victims every time.  Belphanior
fancied himself a competent and clever thief - and a successful
one as well.  What would old Nerkon have said?
  Nerkon, the elf mused to himself, would have yelled at him and
tried to cut himself in for a fat share of the profits.  Too bad
that the mean old bastard was six feet under.  Chuckling in a low
tone, Belphanior turned down a dark alley...
  ...and stopped suddenly, his senses alert to the unseen but
present danger nearby.

Belphanior:  Who goes there?
thug#1:  (slips out of the shadows)  Don't worry yourself about
  that, now.
thug#2:  (appears behind Belphanior, a shortsword clutched in his
  scarred hand)
Belphanior:  Who sent you?  Was it Hugh the Hand?  Or maybe Fat
  Freddie?  Damn that obese slug...I knew he'd cut in on my action
thug#1:  You're smarter than you look, elf.  Our...employer has
  gotten tired of your presence in Fax.  Time for you to move on.
thug#2:  Or disappear...
Belphanior:  (shakes his head)  He only sent two of you?
thug#1:  That's the last thing you should be worrying about, elf...
Belphanior:  And the first thing you should be...(suddenly, with
  no warning signs, he releases a blazing missile from the folds
  of his cloak)
thug#1:  (blasted in the face, he screams and falls, twitching)
thug#2:  (charges at Belphanior, slashing)
Belphanior:  (dodges, not quite quickly enough as the blade rips
  a shallow gash along his side)  Argh!  (in the blink of an eye,
  he produces and hurls a dagger, missing the foe's head by mere
  inches)  Damn!
thug#2:  (turns, approaching again, more carefully this time)  For
  that murder, elf, I'll make sure you die slow...
Belphanior:  Don't bother - I have no intention of dying today.
  Come, let's see how you do against someone whose back isn't
thug#2:  (swings his sword as he closes with the opponent)
Belphanior:  (parries the blow, lightning-fast, and delivers a
  swift kick to the other's crotch)
thug#2:  Urk...(he crumples)  You...
Belphanior:  So sorry about that...(he brings his blade around
  and into the man's neck, severing his head)  My apologies.
thug#2:  (his headless corpse falls to the muddy street)
Belphanior:  (discards his ruined black cloak, stashing it amidst
  some gutter trash)  Hmm, maybe a red one next time...yeah, that
  would look cool.

  Within the hour, the elf had returned to one of his safehouses
and bound his wound.  After the incident, he was fairly certain
that his main business-place would be watched.  He berated himself
for not finding out who sent the two would-be assassins before
killing them.  At the same time, though, he was exultant in the
aftermath of the fight.  He always got a rush like that when his
life was on the line.
  Still, it appeared that his welcome had expired here in Fax.
Perhaps it was time to move on; there were enough powerful crime-
lords in Fax to worry him.  Chances were that whichever of them
had sent those men would try again, and it was only a matter of
time before they got lucky, or outnumbered him, or managed to slip
poison into his drink.  No, better to cut his losses and go else-
where, while he was still able.  Shrewdness such as this had made
him successful, and now it would save him, if he acted on it.  He
had enough gold to travel to any number of places, though he wasn't
quite sure which would best suit his needs.
  Belphanior had already been checking around, keeping his eyes
and ears open, ever-alert for opportunities.  One such chance had
stuck in his mind:  some merchant named Cassius was offering a
nice fee for someone to act as his courier.  The elf grinned to
himself as he thought about making the fellow pay his passage as
well.  Best to squeeze every last copper from the man; even the
smallest coins added up after a while.
  In a pleasant mood once more, Belphanior set out for the Green
Dragon Inn...

  Elsewhere in Fax, a shorter and much less homicidal elf stood at
the city's public bulletin board.  While passing by, he had noticed
a sign requesting help for a mission.  Some man named Cassius
seemed to need some guards for a caravan or something.  Hmm.  In
truth, it sounded fairly stupid.  Of course, most things sounded
stupid to Ged, for he was not only a grey elf, but an exceptionally
shrewd and intelligent grey elf.
  Ged was proud of his abilities, almost to the point of being ego-
tistical.  And why not?  How many others had ever mastered both the
holy and the magical arts?  Of course, it had never occurred to Ged
that he was no master; still, he had power, and knew how to use it.
Any adventuring party worth its salt would recognize this, and be
glad to have him as its leader.  Indeed, they should be honored.
  Ged hoped he wouldn't have to "work" with any thieves.  Besides
being thoroughly lazy and immoral, such scum never seemed to show
the proper respect for Boccob or his magicks.  Only recently, Ged
had caught some skinny little weasel picking a helpless old lady's
pockets in a nearby town.  Fortunately, he'd acted quickly and
decisively, using a spell to put the fellow to sleep until the
proper authorities arrived.  He'd even gotten a fresh-baked apple
pie out of the incident.  While humans would never approach the
overall gloriousness of elves, they sure could cook.
  The grey elf shook his golden locks, as confused as he would ever
admit to being.  Why would a simple courier mission require a
"capable and multi-talented group of individuals" to carry it out?
Or was there, perhaps, more here than met the eye?  Ged resolved to
find out, and if possible, to further his own hunger for new magic
as a result.  Money would buy him new incantations and the formulae
to use them...or, Boccob willing, maybe even a magical item of some
  More excited than he had any right to be, the young, impudent elf
began actively searching for the Green Dragon Inn on the streets
and alleys of Fax.  He hoped that he wouldn't have to resort to
asking for directions; that was certainly beneath his station, and
theoretically unnecessary given his intelligence.  Surely only a
fool would be unable to find a place called the Green Dragon...

  The short, somewhat chubby priest moved through the crowd, doing
his best to keep from knocking merchants' carts over.  At this
hour, as dusk approached, the marketplace was a flurry of activity
and bustle.  Sellers and buyers rushed to make last-chance deals,
to gain or lose an extra copper before nightfall.  People stayed
out of the fellow's way, not because he was particularly large or
imposing, but because he was a priest of Trithereon, a mighty and
well-respected god.
  For his part, it was all Rob could do to keep moving.  He had
been born with many gifts, but coordination was not one of them.
Where Rob went, accidents and spills were sure to follow; knowing
this, the elders of his temple had sent him forth into the world.
The young priest had no regrets, for already he had saved a small
baby from a potentially-fatal sickness and donated several silvers
to a starving family.  Such noble callings guided him now (it
certainly wasn't fate, at any rate) as he searched for the Green
Dragon Inn.  A desperate plea for help, the posted message had
motivated the priest like nothing else from the last few days.  A
fellow in need, this Cassius - and who better to help one in need
than Rob himself?  Now, if only he knew how to get to the Green
Dragon Inn, wherever that was...
  The way he saw it, he had a duty to the downtrodden, the poor,
the sickly.  The Cassius who left that public note sounded like
someone Rob could help.  It never occurred to him that others
would answer the same call, even if their reasons weren't as noble
as his own.  Preoccupied by thoughts like these, Rob bumped into
a signpost, almost knocking himself out.

Rob:  Ow!  (he backs up, regarding the wrought-iron pole as he
  rubs his forehead)  Wha-  (he trips over someone's tiny dog,
  falling into a puddle)  Oof!
tiny dog:  Arf, arf, arf!

  Yes, at the rate he was going, and with the lack of success he
was having, it would be nightfall before the inept priest found
the inn - if he found it at all.  Indeed, it might take a miracle;
then again, miracles were the basis of legends.  Narrowly avoiding
a steaming pile of dog droppings, Rob stumbled along on his way...

  The large, hairy warrior lumbered through the streets of Fax,
and he was not happy.  Preoccupied with simple thoughts, about
simple things, he collided with a leatherworker.

leatherworker:  (whirls, red-faced)  Okay, you clumsy-
Krug:  (hulks over the smaller man)
leatherworker:  Nice weather we're having here, isn't it?
Krug:  No.
leatherworker:  (decides that he has somewhere else to be, and
Krug:  Stupid.  (he continues on his way)
tiny dog:  (sniffing the warrior's booted feet distastefully)
Krug:  (boots the skinny little mutt, sending it flying into an
  old lady)
old lady:  Aieee!  (she recoils, both her and the dog falling
  into the muddy street)  Ech...
Krug:  (ignores all of this, heading into a nearby tavern)

  The warrior carried a scroll tucked away in his belt, and it
was this simple message that had him riled up - for Krug couldn't
read.  Thus, he was infuriated.

Krug:  (slams his fist on the bartop, toppling several empty mugs)
barkeep:  Hold yer horses, fella!  Coming right up!
Krug:  (grunts, and turns his attention to the message)

  The thing had been delivered to Krug while he was training in the
warriors' guildhall.  It must have arrived during his workout at
the chopping pole.  There was no better way to build arm strength
than by chopping on the large, upright log.  Krug had little need
for more arm strength, but it was good exercise, and it let him
work off any anger he might have.
  Anyhow, now he had this message that he couldn't read - and this
warm, watered-down beer that was barely palatable.

Krug:  (guzzles the stuff, slamming his mug down)  Urp!  Warm!
barkeep:  If you don't like it, pal, go somewhere else-
Krug:  (grabs the man by the collar, preparing to make him ride the
  bartop)  Hmm.  (another idea strikes him, and he glares at the
  fellow)  Can you read?
barkeep:  Wh- what?!?
Krug:  Read.  This.  (he shoves the scroll under the man's nose)
barkeep:  (relaxes a bit as the huge warrior lowers him to the
  floor)'s a message to some guy named "Krug."
Krug:  Figured that.
barkeep:  It says that a Cassius seeks veteran warriors for the
  purpose of delivering a package to a nearby city.
Krug:  What package?
barkeep:  Doesn't say.
Krug:  Anything else?
barkeep:  Meet at the Green Dragon Inn...that's it...
Krug:  (lets the man go)  Hnh.  (he grabs his scroll and stuffs it
  back into his belt)
barkeep:  (slowly backing away)
Krug:  (looks around, then leaves)
barkeep:  Hey!  Hey, you!
Krug:  (half-turns)  Huh?
barkeep:  Two coppers!  For the beer!
Krug:  Rip-off.  (he digs in a belt pouch, and tosses the man two
  grimy coins)  Keep change.  (he leaves the tavern)
barkeep:  What change?!?  (he watches the coins bounce off the bartop
  and onto the floor)  Damn dregs...I always get the dregs here...
random young bar patron:  It's that stuff you serve, Mo.  It ain't
  right to call that crap "beer."
barkeep:  Quiet, Elmo, you damned fool drunkard!  If you don't like
  it, why the hell d'you drink so much of the damned stuff?!?  (he
  takes a swig of beer, and almost chokes)  Pfffht!  Ghak...
Elmo:  (laughing like a hyena)
mean-looking ruffian#1:  (at a shadowy corner table, he turns to
  his companion and mutters in a low voice)  It's time.
mean-looking ruffian#2:  Guess it was coming...let's find the others
  and get to that inn.  (they both rise and prepare to leave)

  Out on the street, Krug headed northward.  He knew from long and
drunken experience where the Green Dragon was, and he'd be there in
no time.  Given the current contents of his purse - three coppers,
a ball of lint, and some toecheese - this new job would be profitable
indeed.  He'd see to that, one way or the other...

  About this time, another wanderer was headed in roughly the same
direction (and positively the same destiny) though for different
reasons.  Anyone watching the half-elf saunter along Fax' streets
would surely have thought he was drunk as a skunk.  The truth of it
was, Peyote had been into the mushrooms again.  Unlike beer and wine,
though, the 'shrooms heightened rather than dulled his senses.  The
adventurous druid had recently left his roving band of companions,
opting to remain here in Fax until he found something worthy of his
  He had followed leads and red herrings alike, and one of the more
normal-sounding of these was drawing him now.  Couriers wanted for
a venture to sounded like easy money to Peyote's
pointed ears.  After all, what could possibly complicate such an
easy job?  Plus, they would be traveling through the Suss Forest,
which although dark and gloomy was still a forest.
  Peyote liked the woodlands.  Besides the fact that he felt most
comfortable there, one had to consider the strange mosses and roots
that could often be found, if one knew where to look.  Oh, there
were some such growths that were no fun to eat or cook - that nasty
blackroot stuff came to mind - but overall, it was easy to live,
thrive, and survive in the forest.  The half-elf had been doing it
for decades, and was happy, so why stop now?
  Truth to tell, Peyote didn't care for this city.  He felt trapped,
even smothered by the high stone walls and manmade buildings.  Why
anyone would ever want to live here - really _live_ here - he'd
never fathom.
  His thoughts were interrupted by a passing wine merchant.  Peyote
was thirsty (the 'shrooms always made him thirsty) and he flagged
the man down as he wheeled by.

Peyote:  Ho there, dude!
wine merchant:  Dude?
Peyote:  Exactly.
wine merchant:  (confused)
Peyote:  I'll be needing one of those jugs of grog, my man.
wine merchant:  Huh?
Peyote:  Grog.  You know, the good stuff.
wine merchant:  Uh...right.
Peyote:  (picks up a blue jug)  Hey, man, is this Velunan '51?
  Because if it's Velunan '51, it's good stuff.
wine merchant:  How did you know?
Peyote:  Well, I know my wines, y'know...and '51 was the year they
  got those weird blue grapes.  (he glances at the merchant)  I was
  there, dude.
wine merchant:  Whatever, friend.  Yes, that's '51 Velunan vintage.
Peyote:  Groovy.
wine merchant:  My first, last, and only bottle.  I picked it up when
  a tavern went out of business-
Peyote:  What'll it cost me, man?  I must have it.
wine merchant:  I'm asking ten gold-
Peyote:  Whoa!
wine merchant:  But for you, my inebriated
Peyote:  Seven...say, would you take mushrooms in trade?
wine merchant:  Pardon?
Peyote:  Uh, nevermind.  (he counts out coins in his hand)  I've
  got some silver too...hope it all adds up...
wine merchant:  Me too.
Peyote:  Good, 'cause as I said, that wine must be mine.
wine merchant:  Yeah, I remember.
Peyote:  Six and eighteen...six and nineteen...six and twenty.
  There you go.
wine merchant:  (takes the coins and hands the half-elf the blue jug)
Peyote:  Will do.  Peace, man.  (he wanders away)
wine merchant:  (mumbling to himself)  Where do they come from...
  and why can't we send them back there?

  Peyote ambled on, searching for the Green Dragon Inn.  He'd heard
that it was a decent enough watering-hole, but you just never knew.
With any luck they wouldn't bitch about him carrying the wine-jug
into the place.  Some people were weird about that.  Hopefully it
would all work out, because now he was down to his last silvers -
one of the results of his wandering, carousing lifestyle.  But, as
he'd reasoned before, this had to be a piece of cake.  A courier and
delivery job...what could possibly go wrong?
  Clutching his newfound treasure to his chest, Peyote climbed the
stairs leading into the Green Dragon Inn, just as the rain started

  Mongo cursed as he tromped through the mud.  It'd been raining
on and off for a week now, and it was cold.  Of course, these things
couldn't stop the tough dwarf - it took a lot more than a little
cold and rain - but he didn't have to like them.  He just endured.
Such was the way with dwarves, and Mongo was stronger and hardier
than most.
  He'd planned on leaving town earlier today, but delays had kept
piling up, and one thing led to another, and now here he was, past
dusk and wet and the rain didn't look to be letting up.  Mongo had
only bid farewell to the other two dwarves a few days ago; those
ones wanted to go north, toward the Free City of Greyhawk.  Mongo
had no interest in such a place; civilization was for the weak.
He'd enjoyed the company of his kinsmen, but there was a time for
everything to end, and everyone to move on.
  He figured on finding some new and interesting place to explore.
Maybe there was a general somewhere, looking for good warriors to
join his army's ranks.  Or maybe some big merchant caravan needed
protecting on its way through the wild lands.  No telling, but the
lack of weight in his purse told Mongo that he'd better find some
means of gainful employment, and soon.
  Kicking a rock aside, the dwarf decided to go and have a drink
for the road.  It sure couldn't hurt, not on a night like this, and
besides, Elmo the stable boy wouldn't have his pony saddled and
ready for another half-hour.  That kid meant well, but he must've
been dropped on his head as a baby, because he didn't have much in
the way of sense.  Oh well - better that than a life as a bandit or
something that required even less smarts.  If that'd happened, some-
one like Mongo would someday put an end to the kid's misguided ways.
  Grinning despite the driving rain and his muddy boots, Mongo spun
sharply to the right, heading for the door of the first tavern that
he saw:  some shithole called the "Green Dragon Inn."  One for the

  The man leaned back in his chair, appearing to down a mighty swig
of ale.  In actuality, the stuff in his goblet was weak and watered
down, and he was only sipping.  A woodsman and hunter by occupation,
Halbarad was about as quiet as his profession would allow him to be.
Then again, he had no one to talk to...not yet, anyway.
  This morning, he'd been practicing in the warriors' guildhall when
a messenger brought him a sealed scroll.  An invitation, this - to
join an as-yet-unformed band of wanderers and sellswords.  Whoever
this Cassius character was, he had money - no doubt about that.  To
the ranger, needing to work for money to get away from this cesspool
of a city was ironic.  He liked the outdoors, not tiny messy towns
like Fax; thus, he wished to move on as quickly as possible.
  While he had no pressing need for the gold, neither did he have
an abundance of it.  Thus, here Halbarad was, waiting quietly in the
designated place at the designated time.  Actually, he was somewhat
early, and he had taken a small, nondescript table off to one side.
The way he figured it, whoever else hoped to be in on this mission
would get here and reveal themselves.  He liked to know what kind
of people he might be working - and fighting - with.  When one was
battling for one's life, it helped to know everything there was to
know.  The best time to gather information about people was when
they didn't know the gathering was happening.
  Case in point:  a dark, hooded figure shuffled through the old,
rickety double doors and into the inn's common room.  To Halbarad's
keen and experienced eye, this stranger had "adventurer" written all
over him.  The weary ranger sat back and waited to see what might

  It was a dark and stormy night, and the bundled, hooded fellow was
only too glad to get indoors.  Shaking the rain from his cloak, he
gazed around the interior of the Green Dragon Inn.  The place seemed
well-suited for his purposes, and he indiscreetly slipped into a booth
against one wall.  When a barmaid stopped by, the newcomer politely
ordered himself a glass of fine wine.  When he left the other tavern,
he'd intended to drink more than a single glass, but he needed to do
some thinking, and that meant keeping his head clear.
  This fellow was known by many names, but his true one was Alindyar.
He was not having a particularly pleasant evening; the troublemaking
band of ruffians he had teamed up with a few days ago had lost its
charm.  The bandits had been so besotted with drink that they hadn't
noticed him slip away, leaving that tavern for this one.  Of course,
Alindyar had the power to mask his departure, if he wished.  He was
an illusionist-wizard of no small skill.  Yet, here in this sprawling
city, far from his shadowy native land, he was more than a little
uncomfortable.  He decided, then and there, to seek out some new
companions, preferably some more sensible and capable than the wild
  And here he was, sipping his wine and wondering what the future
would hold.  He seriously doubted that the bandits would care much
about his departure, much less actually try to find him.  Fax seemed
to be a big place; Alindyar could only wonder what it might be like
to actually live here - or even in one of the larger cities, such as
Greyhawk.  These thoughts made his imagination wander along, hoping
that someday, he would make his fortune like any normal surface-
  First things first, however; a group of strange individuals had
begun congregating near his table.  He wasn't sure that they had
noticed him, or that they cared.  No cohesive band, these rascals;
indeed, it seemed as if they didn't all know one another.  Also,
the individuals were of varied racial stock and profession.  They
continued to argue and prattle on as they flocked to his corner of
the tavern.  More than a little intrigued, the dark elf pulled his
hood down a bit, and watched and listened...

  Peldor knew something was going on the moment all the people
started showing up.  A few moments ago, everything had been quiet,
at least for an establishment like this.  Noisy groups of friends
ate, drank, and made merry everywhere - but they were friends, not
a group of new acquaintances hoping to complete an unknown mission.
Peldor knew this, just as instinctively as he knew he was Peldor.
  That was about all he knew, though.  Only a few days past, he had
woken up in a nearby field.  He had no idea who he was or what he
had been doing in that field (he'd attributed the strange burnt
patches of grass to drunken farmers.)  The fact that he'd been stark
naked hadn't really helped either.  Fortunately, he quickly stumbled
across a campsite, and some caravan guards' clean laundry, hung out
to dry; shortly thereafter, it was a well-dressed (if copperless)
Peldor who walked down the dirt road, toward Fax.
  Less than one full day later, it had been a happy (and gold-laden)
Peldor who relaxed in the steaming bath with a pair of beautiful
young ladies.  He couldn't help it - certain things just seemed to
come naturally to him.  Pickpocketing, flirting with women, taking
other people's possessions...those kinds of things.

Peldor:  Get the middle of my back, if you would...
Bubbles:  (grabs the brush)  Tee hee.
Barbie:  (smiling)  Got an itch there, do you?
Peldor:  That's not the only place.
Bubbles:  You needed a bath, that's for sure.  Did you go roll
  around in the mud, or what?
Peldor:  Never.  A Peldor doesn't do those things.
Barbie:  And why not?
Peldor:  Because he's busy doing _these_ things.
Barbie:  (squeaks in surprise)  Aie!

  Later, as the ladies were asleep (no doubt worn out by his newly-
discovered prowess) Peldor had ventured to the common room of the
Green Dragon, in search of a good hot meal.  At first, he had been
interested in the gathering party around him; indeed, he'd only been
watching the tired-looking ranger watch the strange, black-cloaked
man for the hell of it.  Now that his food was here, he really wanted
to eat supper, not listen to a bunch of fools bicker as they met each
  Then again, someone had just mentioned money for a job to be done.
Money was something that Peldor wanted to get more of; it must have
been in his blood.  It also wouldn't hurt to better his lot; the worn
leather armor he wore was a constant reminder of this.  He had gold,
but not _that_ much gold.  Besides, who knew what sorts of adventures
might lie ahead, as part of a larger group?  With this in mind, the
amnesiac thief sat and listened calmly while he finished his supper;
perhaps there was more here than met the eye...

next:      technically, it was Adventurers #001
ftp: in /pub/access/dpm/rpg/stories/adventurers
  in /pub/users/zac/rpg/adventurers/
mail:       (preferred)
notes:     Written in 1997, this is a special one-time prequel to
  the normal series.  It of course takes place immediately before
  the first Adventurers episode from 1991.
    Here is the _original_ stats file, created right before the
  whole campaign started.  Note that these stats may not match what
  you already know; I just dug this file up from the vaults and am
  including it for posterity.  It should not be considered canon.


Character Name: Alindyar
Player Name: Marc Lindsell

Class: mage                         Alignment: neutral
Race: dark elf                      Hit Points: 5

Str: 11  40wt, 115mp, 6/20 od, 2 % bb/lg            Ht: 5'9"
Int: 18  +7 nwp                                     Wt: 104 lbs
Wis: 15  +1 magic                                   Age: 124 yrs
Dex: 17  +2 react,+2 missile,-3 defensive
Con: 16  +2 hp, 95 %ss, 96 %res                     XP:     0
Chr: 13   5 hnch,+1 reaction                        needs: 2500

Racial Abilities: infravision to 120', drow sign language
                  weakness in direct/bright light

Weapon Proficiencies: 1             Armor Class: 6/9
  Gains: 6th, 12th                    Armor Worn: none
  Penalty: -5                         Shield Used: none

Nonweapon Proficiencies: 11           Weapons Used:
  Gains: 3rd, 6th, 9th                  dagger
  1) reading/writing
  2) ancient history
  3) gem cutting
  4)   ---------
  5) ventriloquism
  6)   -----------
  7) engineering
  8)   ---------
  9) ancient languages
  10) directional sense
  11) spellcraft

Languages Known: common (subt.), common, elf, gnome, goblin

Base THACO: 20
  dex bonus: +2   (for missiles or thrown only)

Spells Known: read magic, write, phantasmal force, wall of fog

Character Name: Belphanior
Player Name: Rick Glotzbach

Class: warrior/mage/thief           Alignment: chaotic neutral
Race: high elf                      Hit Points: 7

Str: 18/09 +1hit,+3dam,135wt,280mp,12od,20%bb/lg    Ht: 6'1"
Int: 17   +6 nwp; 75% learn; max 14/lvl             Wt: 117 lbs
Wis: 10                                             Age: 121 yrs
Dex: 18   +2 react, +2 missile, -4 defensive
Con: 17   +3 hp, 97 %ss, 98 %res                    XP:     0  / 0  / 0
Chr: 10    4 hnch                                   needs: 2000/2500/1250

Class & Racial Abilities: 90% resistance to sleep/charm, infravision 60',
                          chances to find secret/concealed doors, chance
                          to surprise, +1 with bows/swords
                          thief abilities, spells, backstab

Weapon Proficiencies: 4             Armor Class: 3/6/7
  Gains: 3rd, 6th, 9th                Armor Worn: leather
  Penalty: -2                         Shield Used: small round

Nonweapon Proficiencies: 10           Weapons Used:
  Gains: 3rd, 6th, 9th                  longsword
  1) reading/writing                    longbow
  2) swimming                           morningstar
  3) tumbling                           dagger
  4) hunting
  5) rope use
  6) appraisal
  7) set snares
  8) spellcraft
  9) riding, land-based
  10) fire-building

Languages Known: common, thieves' cant, elf, halfling, half-elf

Base THACO: 20
  str bonus: +1   (for melee or thrown only)
  dex bonus: +2   (for missiles or thrown only)

Spells Known: read magic, write, +2 first level

Character Name: Ged
Player Name: Ashley Bone

Class: Mage/Priest                  Alignment:
Race: Grey Elf                      Hit Points:

Str: 10    40 lbs, 115 lb mp, 6/20 od, 2% bb/lg      Ht: 5'8"
Int: 18   +7 nwp                                     Wt: 101 lbs
Wis: 18   +4 vs magic, extra spells 2/2/1/1          Age: 107 yrs
Dex: 17   +2 react, +2 missile, -3 defensive
Con: 16   +2 hp, 95% ss, 96% res                     XP:     0  / 0
Chr: 10    4 hnch                                    needs: 2500/1500

Class & Racial Abilities: 90% vs sleep/charm; 60' infravision; chance
     of finding secret/concealed doors

Weapon Proficiencies: 1             Armor Class: 6/9
  Gains: 7th, 13th                    Armor Worn: none
  Penalty: -5                         Shield Used: none

Nonweapon Proficiencies: 11
  Gains: 3rd, 6th, 9th, etc

Languages Known:

Base THACO: 20
  dex bonus:  +2  (for missiles or thrown only)

Spells Known: 2 mage level 1 plus read magic,write
              3 priest level 1:

Character Name: Mongo
Player Name: James Morse

Class: Warrior                      Alignment: Lawful Good
Race: Dwarf                         Hit Points: 13

Str: 18/71 +2 h,+3d,160wt,305mp,13/20od,25% bb/lg     Ht: 4'0"
Int: 13    +3 nwp                                     Wt: 154 lbs
Wis: 13                                               Age: 68 yrs
Dex: 15    -1 defensive
Con: 18    +4 hp, 99%ss, 100%res                      XP:     0
Chr: 13      5 hnch, +1 reaction                      needs: 2000

Class & Racial Abilities: +5 on saves vs. spells, rod/staff/wand,
  poison; 60' infravision; +1 to hit orcs/goblin types; giants
  get -4 on their attack; mining-type skills; weapon specialization;
  three attacks per two rounds with longsword

Weapon Proficiencies: 4 (2 dsp)     Armor Class: 3/4
  Gains: 3rd, 6th, 9th                Armor Worn: chain
  Penalty: -2                         Shield Used: yes

Nonweapon Proficiencies: 6            Weapons:
  Gains: 3rd, 6th, 9th                  longsword
  1) Mining                             heavy crossbow
  2)  -----
  3) Mountaineering
  4) Cooking
  5) Cooking II
  6) Brewing

Languages Known: Common, Dwarf, Kobold, Goblin +1

Base THACO: 20
  str bonus:  +2  (for melee or thrown only)
  spc bonus:  +3  (for longsword only)

Character Name: Peldor
Player Name: Marc Robert

Class: Thief                        Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Race: Human                         Hit Points:  7

Str: 18  +1hit,+2dam,110wt,255mp,11/20od,16%bblg    Ht: 5'11"
Int: 17  +6 nwp                                     Wt: 161 lbs
Wis:  9                                             Age: 18 yrs
Dex: 18  +2 react,+2 missile,-4 defensive
Con: 17  +2 hp, 97%ss, 98%res                       XP:     0
Chr: 11   max 4 hnch                                needs: 1250

Thief abilities: pick pockets    base 15% +10 dex = 25% +10
                 open locks      base 10% +15 dex = 25% +05
                 find/remove traps    05% +05 dex = 10% +05
                 move silently        10% +10 dex = 20% +20
                 hide in shadows      05% +10 dex = 15% +20
                 detect noise         15%         = 15%
                 climb walls          60%         = 60%
                 read languages        0%         = 00%

Weapon Proficiencies: 2             Armor Class: 3/7
  Gains: 4th, 8th, 12th               Armor Worn: leather
  Penalty: -3                         Shield Used: none

Nonweapon Proficiencies: 9            Weapons Used:
  Gains: 4th, 8th, 12th                 longsword
  1) appraisal                          dagger
  2) blind-fighting
  3)   ------------
  4) disguise
  5) direction sense
  6) tumbling
  7) reading/writing
  8)   -------------
  9) jumping

Languages Known: common, thieves' cant, halfling, half-orc

Base THACO: 20
  str bonus: +1   (for melee or thrown only)
  dex bonus: +2   (for missiles or thrown only)

Character Name: Krug
Player Name: Kurt Miller

Class: warrior                      Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Race: human                         Hit Points: 9

Str: 18/48 +1hit,+3dam,135wt,280mp,12/20od,20%bblg     Ht: 6'4"
Int: 15    +4 lang,nwp                                 Wt: 250 lbs
Wis: 10                                                Age: 17
Dex: 18    +2 react, +2 missile, -4 defensive
Con: 17    +3 hp, 97% ss, 98% res                      XP:     0
Chr: 11     max 4 henchmen                             needs: 2000

Class Abilities: weapon specialization; three attacks per two rounds
                 with two-handed sword

Weapon Proficiencies: 4             Armor Class: 3/7
  Gains: 3rd, 6th, 9th                Armor Worn: studded leather
  Penalty: -2                         Shield Used: none

Nonweapon Proficiencies: 8            Weapons used:
  Gains: 3rd, 6th, 9th                  two-handed sword
  1) blind-fighting                     large bow
  2)   ------------
  3) swimming
  4) running
  5) mountaineering
  6) endurance
  7)   -------
  8) hunting

Languages Known: common, tribal, hill giant

  str bonus:      (for melee or thrown only)
  dex bonus: +2   (for missiles or thrown only)
  spc bonus: +3   (with two-handed sword only)

Character Name: Rob
Player Name: Rob Lefevbre

Class: priest                       Alignment: chaotic good
Race: human                         Hit Points:  8

Str: 11   40 wt,115 mp,6/20 od,2% bb/lg             Ht: 5'11"
Int: 17   +6 nwp                                    Wt: 171 lbs
Wis: 18   +4 vs magic, extra spells 2211            Age: 18
Dex: 15   -1 defensive
Con: 15   +1 hp, 90% ss, 94% res                    XP:     0
Chr: 14   6 hnch, +1 lb, +2 reaction                needs: 1500

Priest Abilities: turning undead

Weapon Proficiencies: 2             Armor Class: 4/5
  Gains: 4th, 8th, 12th               Armor Worn: chain mail
  Penalty: -3                         Shield Used: none

Nonweapon Proficiencies: 10           Weapons used:
  Gains: 4th, 8th, 12th                 .
  1) reading/writing                    .
  2) religion
  3) healing
  4)   -----
  5) engineering
  6)   ---------
  7) gaming
  8)   ----
  9) musical instrument
  10) fishing

Languages Known: common, lizard man

Base THACO: 20

Spells Known: three 1st level priest spells

Character Name: Halbarad
Player Name: Andrew Hackett

Class: ranger                       Alignment: neutral good
Race: human                         Hit Points: 15

Str: 16  +1 dam,70wt,195mp,9/20od,10% bb/lg      Ht: 5'10"
Int: 14  +4 nwp                                     Wt: 156 lbs
Wis: 14                                             Age: 19
Dex: 17  +2 react, +2 missile, -3 defensive
Con: 18  +4 hp, 99%ss, 100%res                      XP:    0
Chr: 10   4 hnch                                    needs:2250

Ranger abilities: gets tracking free, hide in shadows 15%, move silently
                    20%, fight with 2 weapons, +4 vs orcs (hated), animal

Weapon Proficiencies: 4             Armor Class: 4/7
  Gains: 3rd, 6th, 9th                Armor Worn: leather
  Penalty: -2                         Shield Used: none

Nonweapon Proficiencies: 7+1          Weapons used:
  Gains: 3rd, 6th, 9th                  hand axe
  1) blind fighting                     dagger
  2)   ------------                     quarterstaff
  3) bowyer/fletcher                    longbow
  4) animal lore
  5) hunting
  6) swimming
  7) reading/writing
  8) Tracking

Languages Known: common, orcish, wood elf, brownie

Base THACO: 20
  dex bonus: +2   (for missiles or thrown only)

Character Name: Peyote
Player Name: Kenneth Lightner

Class: fighter/druid                Alignment: neutral
Race: half-elf                      Hit Points: 7

Str: 18/06 +1hit,+3dam,135wt,280mp,12/20od,20%bb/lg Ht: 5'6"
Int: 10    +2 nwp                                   Wt: 132 lbs
Wis: 17    +3 magic, bonus spells 2,2,1             Age: 21 yrs
Dex: 17    +2 react, +2 missile, -3 defensive
Con: 13    85 %ss, 90 %res                          XP:     0  / 0
Chr: 15     7 hnch, +3 lb, +3 reaction              needs: 2000/2000

Class & Racial Abilities: +2 on saves vs fire, electrical
                          30% vs sleep and charm
                          infravision to 60'
                          chance to find secret/concealed door

Weapon Proficiencies: 4             Armor Class: 2/5/6
  Gains: 3rd, 6th, 9th                 Armor Worn: hide armor
  Penalty: -2                          Shield Used: small wooden

Nonweapon Proficiencies: 6            Weapons used:
  Gains: 3rd, 6th, 9th                  bastard sword
  1) reading/writing                    staff
  2) ancient history                    heavy crossbow
  3) ancient languages                  .
  4) directional sense
  5) swimming
  6) religion

Languages Known: common, druidic cant, dryad

Base THACO: 20
  str bonus: +1   (for melee or thrown only)
  dex bonus: +2   (for missiles or thrown only)

Spells Known: 3 first level druidic


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