Slain by Elf

I joined a raid group heading in to the Scarlet side of Stratholme, hoping to eliminate the evil in there and liberate some interesting armour and equipment. The raid group worked quite well as a team, and there was cooperation and little bickering, which made the expedition enjoyable, even in the cramped and crowded conditions inside the walls of the fortress. The leader of the group was sensible and even-headed as well, and when we were about to battle someone who would drop a nice piece of equipment that would bind to someone as soon as it was picked up he would assert himself and only allow himself to loot the body, asking for whispers from any interested parties who would then all roll for the item; whoever won the roll would be passed the item by the leader. It was a good system.

Near the end of the expedition the archivist we battled dropped quite a nice cloak, and one that was better than the one I was wearing. The leader again asked for people to say in a whisper to him if they were interested in the cloak, so that he could determine to whom it should go. There were at least three people keen to get this cloak, because apart from myself two others said aloud (in the raid channel) that they wanted the cloak. I was set to take my chances on a die roll to get my hands on it, but the leader announced that only one person, despite his request, had whispered a need to him, which was me, so I got handed the cloak without contest.

I felt the tiniest bit guilty about this, but the ermine-lining on my new cloak quickly convinced me I was its rightful owner.

After what seemed like a long period of contemplation, our Paladin decides that he'd rather face some Ogres than have to retreat through 3' of water, so our party decamps and heads through a narrow path through the rock walls, which opens out in to a fairly large room. Our Rogue has a quick look, with his Darkvision, before the Humans and their light sources give the game away entirely. He sees two Ogres standing around. Easy! The rest of us head down.

When the Ogres see the light coming towards them the Rogue, who understands Giant, hears calls for support. Being quick to react, I head in and attack one of the Ogres who was on guard. My spiked chain hits him for a fair bit of damage, and the Rogue then finishes it off with a well-placed crossbow bolt that hits a vital spot. We have the early advantage! It is then we see eight more Ogres head towards us from behind a rocky column that hid them from view, and we realise that perhaps we still have a little more to do.

A quick regrouping and we are set for combat. A Lightning Bolt shoots from our Mage's fingertips, the Paladin uses a potion to Enlarge himself, and the Rogue and I ready ourselves for more attacks. Another Ogre steps close to me, so I attack him as he gets within range. Again, my spiked chain bites in to its body, and the party is stunned! I hear a call behind me from the Paladin asking why I haven't tried to Trip it. Because, I reply, it is larger than me and looks pretty strong. As much as I enjoy fighting from a prone position, so much so that I am skilled in doing so, I didn't quite fancy it at the moment.

Nevertheless, this clearly affected the Paladin, as he stepped up to combat quickly and even killed some of the Ogres. In fact, between him and the Rogue, they were so efficient at smiting the Ogres that I barely got a full-round attack in. Still, once we had defeated the Ogres and the Paladin took glee in counting all their coins, we attracted some Wights; I felt it was my duty to Trip at least one of them. I managed to react more quickly than the Cleric in the fight and was able to Trip and kill one of the three Wights before our Radiant Servant of Pelor turned the other two in to dust. Order was restored.

An early memory I have of working for the Alliance recalls a time in Westfall, near the lighthouse, where The Aberrant Chapter, as a group of us were known then, were confronted by another small group of adventurers. Well, we were not confronted as much as I myself was confronted. I was accused of meddling with dark powers that I had no right to involve myself with, and that my magic was a blight on the land. I did not quite know how to reply to these shouts, partly because this other band ran off elsewhere without pause, and partly because they were to some extent right about me.

I knew when I first started to learn the path of shadow, leading quickly to the summoning and control of demons, that these were forces outside of nature, dangerous forces that could consume me. I knew that there would be those who would not understand my choice. And I knew there would be some who would resent me, fear what I was doing. In my early times of training this was not really an issue, as I was only really running tasks for my first mentor, who, naturally, encourage me. It was only when I was considered ready to enter the larger world of conflict that I came face-to-face with some hostile reactions. Even then, there weren't many. I was lucky to find some good companions early on who were tolerant of my shadow magic at first, and then happy for my company when they came to understand how I used it.

And even when The Aberrant Chapter broke up, parted by the seemingly never-ending pressures of fighting those who oppose the Alliance, I rarely encountered many reactions like that in Westfall, although there were occasional moments where I would be made to feel less than welcome. This is quite likely to be because I wandered the lands alone for most of the time; working as part of a team was the exception, not the rule. I got used to travelling alone, fighting with only a demon by my side. And maybe that became part of the problem. I tried to keep in control, use the shadow around me, not within me, to fuel my magic. I have tried to avoid the corruption that consumes so many shadow magic users, destroying their bodies and souls. But how can I be sure the corruption hasn't tainted me? Were I corrupted, would I be able to tell?

I am lucky that I have some good friends around me, who I can keep in touch with when I need to. They keep an eye out for me, making sure that I do not let the shadow overwhelm me, that I am not drawn too far down the dark path whence there is no return. I sometimes think that they are too cautious, that my experience has shown I can handle the powers I wield, but that could be a sign of the corruption taking hold, so I still force myself to listen. And my friends, for you know who you are, please do not stop looking out for me like this.

You may be asking why I am relating all this now. There is a reason, for earlier I was invited to explore the dark town of Stratholme. The group that was assembled included some diverse people, and to begin with it looked like we would work well as a team, something that is vital within such a foul place as Stratholme. Things started to go awry, though. There seemed to be tensions building up within the team. The priest within our team seemed to keep away from me, and her nervous glances across to me did not look like she was happy I was there. It seemed at times that she did not trust that I would not join with the foul denizens of Stratholme against the the party.

I didn't try to win her over, as this rarely works, although I tried not to upset her intentionally. I offered healthstones, including one to the priest, and made sure that the priest herself had her soul stored in case of any unfortunate occurrances. Despite this, I clearly had not made a friend. Our party, working through the undead, found a piece of dreadmist armour, and almost before I could attempt to persuade others that I would really like to own it the priest had bound it to herself, claiming that it would come in useful. There were no claims of her being a shadow priest, nor any signs afterwards that this would be the case, yet the dreadmist armour made its way in to her possession. I have to say that despite my first reaction of astonishment this really did not matter to me. I have heard that there were many pieces of this armour crafted, even if they are all kept by powerful adversaries, so it is likely I will have another opportunity to get some, it is more reaction of the priest to me. It had been a while since I had encounted a strong negative reaction, and this was another reminder that I am not always welcome to some people.

Nevertheless, our party continued through the town, trying to wipe out the scourge within, and I still kept the priest's soul stored for emergencies. I could have instead used the soulstone with one of the two paladins in the party, neither of whom seemed to have a problem with my presence, apparently happy with my contribution to their efforts. But that would not have been for the greater good. Or so I thought. As it was, when we were overwhelmed at one point and were all beaten down beyond the point of surrender the priest ignored the soulstone and released her spirit instead. I still do not know why she did this, and it is perhaps as big an affront to my the powers I wield as I could imagine. This act by the priest ended our raid within Stratholme. I wonder if she did this just to avoid using any of my magic, fearing some corruption herself, or to get away from being in a party with me and finding some pure adventurers. I can only conjecture, and it is not always wise to dwell on some other's motives when they are likely never to be known. Still, I am reminded also that of the three times I fell this afternoon I was raised each time by a paladin and not the priest.

I recall these events not because I feel wronged, nor to bring any shame or disrepute to the priest, for I do not think that someone who follows the path of light can be blamed for viewing me with such suspicion. I do it to remind myself that my powers are dangerous and not something to be taken casually. I chose this life for myself, in a way, and it is not something I regret. I do not expect acceptance from everyone for how I manipulate the shadow, or my dealings with demons, as that would be unrealistic to say the least. I fear that as I am looking to enter more of the most dangerous dungeons I shall occasionally confront animosity from within my team, and that it is something I shall have to deal with. But why I am recalling this the most is to remind myself how welcome I have been made by my friends, those who accompany me and let me fight by their side without a sideways glance. I think we all need to remind ourselves of this kind of thing every now and again, so that none of us fall foul of the darkness that awaits.

You have given me another reason for me always to strive to keep true to myself.

When you use Power Attack, you shall marginally miss.

When you don't use Power Attack, nothing would have deflected your blow.

We find ourselves fighting in an awkward room, as it has a smaller room in the middle of it. This gives a large space to fight, but also areas out of sight where enemies could position themselves, and could cause the rest of the party could be separated by sight. Before we had to worry too much about that we needed to get ourselves off the sprial staircase that led us down to this room, even more so because that area just had Silence cast on it. With our Mage to act, he decided to get out of the Silenced zone so that he could cast a spell instead of loading his crossbow.

He ventured forwards, closer to the enemy, until he could hear his own footsteps and the ambient noises around him once more. 'Hey, Bert, turn around and tell us you're out of the Silenced area', I ask him, which he then starts to do. He gets about half-way through before realising that, of course, we couldn't hear him say that. The rest of us found that a bit too funny, I think. It was late, what can I say.

Elan the Bard returns in another adventure, again with the Half-orc Barbarian and his dog, the non-healing Cleric, and a new Mage. Travelling from one city to the next, the party decides to visit a famous Dwarf Alchemist who lives near the route. On approaching, it seems that all is not well in the alchemist's tower.

Despite having Improved Initiative and high Dexterity, boosted by some nice new gloves, I was only ever attacked whilst flat-footed. It didn't really help that there was a pesky Imp flying around, turning invisible when it could and aiming for me more often than not. And my keen Elven instincts didn't seem to do much more than get us in to trouble, as I would sense something going on but not quickly enough to prevent any surprise.

It doesn't help if the creature surprising me is both well-hidden and ready to attack. Nevertheless, despite this advantage over me, and my being surprised and flat-footed, my armour did its job and deflected the blow away from my squishy organs. The Mage behind me then voiced out loud that he, the Mage, probably should have readied a True Strike spell. This reminded my assailant that he had cast that spell, to ensure the first blow hit. Just as his blade bounced off my armour it managed to turn and find a chink, piercing me right in the spleen.

Ouch. I would have thanked the Mage for his insight in to the situation, but the exertion would have knocked me unconscious.

It was the concluding week of the introductory Paranoia mission. Before the game started proper there was the usual banter around the table, even though this was shown to be dangerous in the previous session. Talking about football and the recent takeover of Manchester United, the resident Chelsea fan blurted out, 'I trust a Russian more than an American.'

He was lucky not to have his character hauled away to a confession booth, frankly. I blame inexperience of the players.

I ran an introductory Paranoia mission for most of the usual gang, as we are in the middle of the holiday season and missing a member. The mission is written for players new to the game, which is a good way to get the players suitably paranoid, and also helps my newbie GMing skills.

One of the players made an interesting decision during play, in that when presented with some experimental R&D equipment to field test she picked up the largest weapon available and fired it at the ORANGE-clearance R&D man. Sure, he was behind foot-thick plexiglass designed to withstand the sort of accidental mis-firings that inexperienced troubleshooters can cause with untested weapons, but this wasn't an accident.

Somewhat taken aback when the Team Leader shot her, after ensuring the Comms and Recording Officer had the incident on file, she wondered out loud why there was a problem, as she was just testing the strength of the plexiglass and so surely there couldn't be a problem, just because she happened to aim at a higher-level citizen whilst doing so.

The C&R Officer then made the brilliant move of tricking the downed player in to saying something, after the Team Leader specifically told her that if she said anything else he'd shoot her again. The C&R Officer was quietly chuckling to himself as he kept on recording what could have been a snuff film for the black market.

All in all, I think everyone took to the Paranoia world quite well.

Welcome to level 4! We had gone back to town, sold loot, bought new loot, saved a Faery Dragon, or something like that, and headed back to the dungeon, delving deeper than we had before.

After a quick encounter with some Wights we found a secret door that led in to a passageway. This corridor was full of water, though. The water was dark and oily, albeit not dangerous upon investigation, and also three feet deep. This made it tricky for the Gnomes to get through.

The Paladin, however, had a different objection, saying, 'I don't fancy running away in that!'

Brave, brave sir Paladin.

Having dragged all of our newly-found loot out of the dungeon and back to town we sell what we don't want and divide the cash evenly amongst ourselves. We are then left with the arduous task of spending it. One of the items we thought about selling, to increase our cash considerably, was the Ring of Three Limited Wishes. Trying to find out how much it is worth, we ask who was looking after it, and no one can remember. The Rogue says that he doesn't even remember us picking up the ring.

Uh-oh. I think we can work out who has the ring now, even if we can't prove anything.

It's a sad state of affairs when a party decides that the Rogue is a more responsible person to look after a valuable item than the Paladin.