No Halfling Measures

Riding in the back of Cookie’s wagon, Rifkin watches Liga Bur trailing far behind, atop his, now disturbingly, huger and slobbier hound; Mir Hindur. Although he’s tried repeatedly over the last few months, the Halfling has always resisted Rifkin’s attempts at closeness. They are friends, but friends from time spent together, rather than the type that shares intimate details of each-other’s lives.

Pulling his precious mandolin into place, Rifkin absent-mindedly strums a few cords as he considers what he really knows about his cauliflower-eared travelling companion…

Liga Bur; a Halfling raised by Orcs, forged strong but without any knowledge of his true ancestry or culture.

After a quarter of a century living in the ‘Broken lands’ with the Orcish Darkstar tribe, he found himself driven from his adoptive family and into the Human lands and then, the overrun Halfling strip.

When Liga Bur encountered a band of travelling Halfling acrobats at the Scarborough fair half a year ago, did he seek to find out more?

When (a very pretty) one of those wandering tumblers secretly passed him a note to meet up with him in private, did he agree?

When, months later on their return, it became apparent that Scarborough was previously a Halfling settlement called Scarp Burrow, did he dig deeper?

When exposed, just a day ago, to the Halfling quarter (sixteenth) in the large Human town of Thornflek, did he introduce himself to the Halfling leadership or book himself a room in the Halfling run inn?

And finally, when he just encountered Marvin, the angry Halfling bandit, potentially old enough to have been his Father, did he try to gather any information from him before he was shish-kabobbed by Fortu?

Considering the mystery of his history, the answers are a surprising ‘no’, ‘no’, ‘no’, ‘no’ and ‘no’!

Could it be that Liga Bur’s brutal upbringing has made him a race denier? Is it possible that, after spending his entire life being beaten and judged by Orc standards, the battle-scarred Halfling is afraid? Afraid to admit to himself even, that he is a Halfling after all?!

Rifkin’s delicate digits stop playing before he registers it.

Is Liga Bur’s rejection of his race any different from his own? True, his Quarter-Elf Father was murdered by his Mother’s inbred relatives and she, in turn, drank herself to an early death, but…

Considering the difference in lifespans, his Half-Elven Grandmother could possibly be still alive and his fully Elven Great-Grandmother would certainly still be, yet he’s done nothing to find them.

If he really thinks that Liga Bur should be interested in his own past and true heritage, surely he should be too? Perhaps he’s avoided those travelling, full-blooded Elves in the last town because he was afraid they’d pity him for his diluted blood, or worse?

Perhaps Liga Bur also fears being judged by his Halfling kin as lesser because of his harsh, uncultured Orcish upbringing?

An Eye for a Lie

Twenty mounted soldiers surround the hidden shack, waiting for Lord Urdurel and Captain Aglet to come back out with their prisoner. It’s taken them over a month to track her down to this forest hideaway, but finally the elusive ‘Queen’ Hetzabah has been cornered.

The soldiers smile grimly to each-other. Her assassins have been killed or driven off and she’s finally trapped and defenceless. A single woman alone against two fully armoured and vengeful knights.

A few minutes pass before the wooden door is wrenched open from the inside and Lord Urdurel staggers out, clutching his, now empty, left eye socket, blood gushing through the gaps between his gauntletted fingers!

Two of the soldiers quickly dismount to aid their liege, as Captain Aglet also lurches out of the shack, face ashen..

“She wasn’t as she appeared! She deceived us all!! She’s a monster; a demon from the deepest pits of Hell!!!”

The Sergeant of the group, drops from his saddle, rushes to the open door, long-sword raised and peers in.

“She’s gone! Where did she go? How in the nine hells could she have escaped us?!”

Taking the Long Road

As the last (Cottage of Doom) campaign finished, we all questioned how Nobles, Priests and Wizards gained their positions and power if they didn’t adventure (kill monsters and steal their stuff) to gain experience.

I was thinking about this recently, as you’re going to meet a few of them soonish, and I think I’ve come up with a plausible, game related solution.

If you take the Experience/Level chart and just substitute the ‘000’ after the initial number for the word ‘years’, it could be applied to study, prayer and practice.

There’s the obvious precedent with the path from zero to first level. Characters train up from nought to first level by practice swordplay under a master or long-term study and prayer. Starting age is a demonstration of this. 

One years dedicated, eight-hour, daily practice gets you to level two.

Two more years (Three in total) practice gets you to level three.

Three more years (Six in total) practice gets you to level four.

This means that if a Wizard studies every day, five days a week, in a dusty tower for forty-five years, he would be around Sixty-Seven-years-old and have attained 10th level.

He would also be classified as Old with -3 to his Strength, Dexterity and Constitution and +2 to his Intelligence, Wisdom and Charisma.

(Slightly terrifying to realise Assif, David and I are also, D&D officially, ‘Old’ men now.)

This would make a kind of sense and explain why these Clerics and Wizards have chosen scholastic, non-combat useful Skills and Feats like ‘Magic item creation’ or why high status Nobles choose ridiculous levels of ‘Diplomacy’ etc.

You could apply this to Fighters too and this would explain why most of my solders are drilled to Second level but third level and above depend more on having seen actual combat or a long military career.

Does this system seem fair and reasonable?

Three Score and Seven Years Ago

The extremely impressive, Moradin mantled, Dwarven couple enter the much less impressive, blocky Human tower. Behind them, holding onto his Father’s trailing robe, scampers a very shy and very young Dwarven child. They’re led up the stone steps and announced to the waiting Lord Urdurel and his young wife; Lady Dulcetta. The beautiful, flaxen-haired woman smiles up at her husband before he addresses the two Dwarven ambassadors.

“Welcome to Cottis; the capital of Stowan and, soon to be, the greatest city in all the world!”

It’s the bigger-bearded of the two that answers, as his wife squeezes his meaty hand in a subtle warning not to be too facetious in his response.

“It is indeed an honour to be invited to oversee this massive… by Human standards, project. Our team of architects and stonemasons will do our best to create a metropolis that surpasses anything Human eyes have ever seen.

Sensing her husbands rising annoyance at their, barely concealed conceit, Lady Dulcetta stands, revealing her bulging pregnancy.

“We’re sure that our combined efforts will result in an awe inspiring marvel that will last the ages, and I hope our children will become firm friends over the coming decade.”

Slightly taken aback, the lesser-bearded of the two Dwarves, smiles warmly and honestly.

“I’m sure little Banaal here will love acting as guardian to your baby, once he or she arrives.”

Lord Urdurel, though remaining seated, also smiles. He knows that it’s only his gold that’s persuaded the Dwarves to send their artisans and emissaries, but he also understands that it’s only with their help, that he can create the towering wonder he wants to build here. 

“It would indeed be a blessing for our coming child to have such a stout defender as brave Banaal.”

Peeping out from behind his Father, Banaal puffs out his little chest in pride. He’s already determined that he’ll do his upmost to protect this fragile Human baby from whoever, or whatever, seeks to do them harm. 

Hero for Hire

Rifkin can’t quite believe what he’d just saw… Who he’d just seen. That was Quinn… ‘The Mighty Quinn’! Hero of dozens of stories! Lone protagonist of a score of epic songs and stanzas! Still in his early thirties, the man’s a living legend!

He’d been as tall as his reputation had implied and as wide at his white fur clad shoulders. And that smile! The man radiated confidence and joy! When he passed them outside Lord Urdurel’s office, he didn’t just walk, he strutted. That man was so gorgeous and so full of himself, he could’ve probably strutted while sitting down!

The Mighty Quinn; the man who’d single-handedly defeated the Pigeon Queen. The hero who’d beaten the sleeping giants of Cribarth. The lone warrior who rescued an entire town from the evil Wizard; Dizpare!

Despite living his entire adult life travelling. Despite running with dastardly thieves, dashing Elves, brave Human warriors, Halfling druids and, more recently; Dwarven priests, Rifkin had still not seen anything like the Mighty Quinn!

Heavy is the Head

 

Lord Urdurel’s Bounty

Lord Urdurel (High King in all but title) was not only expecting you but had planned for it. He had sent out, well in advance of your arrival, for specific items as a potential reward or bribes for Liga Bur and Rifkin. He’d even had the time to commission a powerful new shield for Fortu AND had it styled and painted to match his octopus themed armour!

Banaal’s gift though was more personal. As the very young son of the Dwarven priest couple, sent to oversee the construction of Cottis over sixty years ago. Childhood friend to his baby daughter and her brave childhood protector. When Banaal learned of her murder, fifty years too late, he still shared in Lord Urdurel’s ongoing grief.

Current character wealth (including recently received ‘wanted’ rewards, gifted personal magical items and equipment and minus the gold paid to the leader of the Rogues guild for information about the Assassin, probably in the employ of the Witch Megarna; Finnegan).

Banaal: 

Gold: 975gp

10 gems (worth 100gp each) 

4 gems (worth 50gp each)

Cloak of Etherealness

Fortu: 

Gold: 1306gp

6 gems (worth 25gp each)

Shield Large/Heavy +3

Heavy Warhorse: Night Fever!

Liga Bur: 

Gold: 130gp (Still owes Rifkin 350gp)

Rabbit skin boots of Striding and Springing 

Rifkin: 

Gold: 691gp

7 gems (worth 25gp each)

Brooch of Shielding

In addition you are all now being paid a whopping 10gp a day while in Lord Urdurel’s employ.

Liga Bur can elect to repay some of his debt to Rifkin if he should choose to do so.