Now that's just totally unfair. I get misquoted using the word "silly", when I actually said surreal, and suddenly I'm public enemy number one with the faithful of Istus. Mort calls the entire exchange silly and he gets thanks. It's because I'm small isn't it. Well, I've had just enough of this. I've been threatened with Paladins; been told that I need an Atonement, and mentioned in the same sentence as, gasp, Eberron. Why don't you just go the whole hog and tell me that I was born in the Forgotten Realms. I've never been so insulted since the time I was asked (told) to join that annoying guild in The Free City.
Well, I'm going to break into that tower. And I'm going to steal all their secrets and, what's more, I'm not going to tell any of youse lot what I find.
Unless I'm threatened with something really painful.
Now....Now....Ragr, it isn't that bad. I apologized for misunderstanding you...see my daddy's money didn't buy that great of an education. I'd hardly call you public enemy #1, you and I both know who that really is. By the way, I'm am glad to hear that you have accepted this quest. Will you be doing it alone or will you be in need of 7 other companions? Please be careful upon entering the infamous tower however, I hear that they have 4.5 edition robotic guards patrolling the hallways. Now I understand your upset...but really withholding information from your fellow Greyhawkers....that's just not right. What if you discover that Greyhawk City is next to vanish...you wouldn't tell us?
I'm sorry to hear that you feel inadequate over your size. I'm sure with therapy you can overcome your shortcomings. Would you like me to schedule an appointment with the Guild of Adventure Inadequacies, I believe they have an office in Clerkburg, on University Street in Greyhawk City.
I don't think it is really accurate to say that you were threatened by paladins, it was after all just one, and it wasn't really a threat at all. Maybe she just wanted to get her hands all over you. As far as that Atonement thing, well there must be something your feeling guilty about. Perhaps that "size issue" is manifesting because of some deeply buried guilt your holding inside.
You weren't really born in the Forgotten Realms were you? Gosh, I had no idea, I'm sorry....more therapy? I thought you'd appreciate the Ebberon comment. After all, throw some headphones on, listen to your theme song on their lightning commuter train thingy and nobody would suspect that your actually a master rogue from Greyhawk. I noticed you dropped a name....thieve's guild...hmmm.... your not thinking about shaking down my temple now are you?
I thanked Mort because he sent me that wonderful map a while back. By the way Mort, I followed your map and I couldn't find a single 5 star inn along the way. Some travel agent you turned out to be. I didn't realize I was getting the economy travel package deal. Next time let's upgrade to 1st class ok?
You guys are to funny! _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Work with a group of adventurers? Normally I'd have no qualms about working with others but lately I've noticed an alarming trend amongst adventurers; absolutely no sense of humour. The last mob I worked with tried to lynch me. My crime? Taking treasure on a "the amount of work done" basis. Without me they would still be outside. How do you halt a company of adventurers dead in their tracks? Put a mysterious door in front of them. Or, any door. So, thanks for the offer, Eileen, but I like my collar size as it is.
4.5 robots? Bring it on. Bring on 10e for all I care. I've made it all the way from 1st and have the yellow character sheet to prove it. With lots of holes in from all the rubbing out I've had to do.
You don't really think I'd hold out on you, do you? Greyhawkers, fear not.
The secrets of the Tower of Self Importance shall be broadcast from the top of the Wizard's Guild as soon as I've pilfered them. And managed to find a way to the top of the Guildhall. Without being toasted by that Jalfrezi woman. Hmnn! Starting to get hungry.
Your Paladin wants to get her grubby mitts on me? You know, once she's been turned to the dark side there's no way back into Heironeous' good books. Me like!
Eberron sounds horrible. Hell on Oerth. Or Forgotten Realms as it's called around here.
Must eat.......Fading away........Bring curry now.....
You know, there is 6 hour time differance between us and I'm am still up posting here. I think I have a compulsive disorder. If you've really been around since 1st edition you should go back to Web Comic and check out my dragon analysis.
Again, I'm suppose to be impressed?
We know you wouldn't hold out on fellow Greyhawkers. You just like to talk tough.
Since your uncertain how to find your way to the top of the Wizard's Guildhall, let me help you.
Get a copy of the Expedition to the Ruins of Greyhawk, turn to page 89 and start reading. It will tell you exactly how to do it. Jeez....and I'm not even a rogue and I figured that out.
So do you want to find out what the paladin looks like? If you do I can try and set it up for you. really I can. She's attractive, I think you'd like her. _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
I've got that supplement on my shelf gathering dust waiting to be read. Page 89 eh! Suckers.
Your Paladin is beginning to sound a little scary. I think I'll pass.
What do you mean by web comic? I'm obviously getting a little slow in my dotage.
It's done, then. When page 89 is read, Ragr is going in. Beware, pen-pushing game designing types, the 'hawkers have a fearsome champion, and he brings upon you the fury that is stinging criticism. And what's more, he brings it direct to your lair, in the guise of a Halfling. 37lbs of pure vitriol and venomous contempt for your game tinkering ways.
So you getting old are you? Webcomic 3.0, the other thread we have beeen bantering on. Actually the paladin is pretty nice, I wasn't even being sarcastic when I offered to introduce you or when I said she was attractive, although she is quite a bit taller than you.
So what kind of sandwich are you eating?
In celebration of your finally getting off the tree and doing something, I came up with a little cheer for you.
Who's the halfling with all the stealth....
Ragr...Ragr....
Who's the rogue with all your wealth?
Ragr....Ragr....
Who's the thief who will rob you blind....
Ragr...Ragr....
Who's the cutpurse you will never find....
Ragr....Ragr...
Who's that sneak who will always walk?
Ragr....Ragr...
Who's that burglar who will save the hawk?
Ragr...Ragr...
Yay.....Ragr. _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Sorry, once again I'm afraid I will have to disappoint you. I have no idea where you stole that line from. My bad. Somehow I don't think it was one of the hymns I learned at the church of Istus. Most regretfully, I have other duties to attend to so I shall be back for more witicisms later.
Cheers! _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
The less people know about where I steal lines from the better it is. I've had folks, er, quietened for less. That way I get to sound even more witty and charming than usual.
So Ragr...how did it go. I see your back since you found time to start a new thread. Apparently you finished your sandwich, got off your tree or dead dragon or whatever it really was, infiltrated the Unsurmountable Tower of continous editions and made it back out.
So did you use the official method presented on page 89 or did you improvise. I hope that the wizards don't have a copy of the Exp. book because if they do I'm guessing it was a lot more difficult that you expected.
So what horrible traps, monsters, and spells did you encounter? Did you find the 4th edtion manuscript? Did you steal it, alter it, replace it with your own? Come on, we need to know. Lets here a factual account of your adventure! _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Turbulent Prophet, quit yer yakking. Can't you see I'm trying to lurk quietly? Do you always want things done this quickly. An operation like this takes planning. There are tools to polish, weapons to sharpen, life insurance policies to update (you want raising with that, sir). Some of us can't just see the future, you know, we have to live it and take our chances.
So, farewell my lovely tree, er, Dragon. I'm set fair for the Tower of Inescapable Profit. Pray for me 'hawkers.
Ummm.....you bring up a good point, ....wouldn't it be easier to just ask me how well you will do....before you go....ooops he already left. I was just about to tell him...well guess he'll find out for himself. _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
And, to my utmost shame, I have failed you all. I shall not be broadcasting this from the top of the Guildhall, though I've committed page 89 to memory.
Getting into the Tower of Corporate Fluff was easy; how arrogant I thought, no guards, just a doorman called Ed. Naturally, Ed was easily bypassed.
The tower has 7 levels. The first 6 were full of the minions of the Wizards. Shackled to desks and chewing on pens, no doubt dreaming of the death of our world and how to please their masters with cunning schemes. And the decor; a mind numbing, swirling vista of shades of beige. I barely kept my sanity in these lower levels.
The doors were inscribed with strange glyphs spelling out words that i couldn't understand. Gleemax was one. Another seemed to say "Insider". The irony. I had never felt more like an outsider.
The levels traversed, I came then to the uppermost portion of the tower. I had overhead the minions whisper of this level. The sanctum of the book, they called it. Their only desire seemed to be to "have some input into it's final incarnation".
I crept into the chamber and, behold, upon a pedestal rested a leather bound volume. There were no traps, how careless these mighty Wizards. I perused the mighty tome, expecting great secrets and insight into the fate of my world but, the horror, I must've failed my Decipher Script. The words made no sense. Tiefling; surely they mean Halfling. Dragonborn; surely Gnome. Eladrin; what? Points of light; where? Gods, whose causes seemed horribly confused. And the notation in the margin seemed to consist of; first, take a smidgeon of Gh. Add a spoonful of FR. Then, a dollop of EB. Mix with other stuff, and ta dah! We'll have it. I moved through the book coming to a section called "The Rules". Aha! I thought . Here we have it. The crunch. Empty. Every page. Not a thing.
At this point I felt a draught caress my neck and, turning, beheld the Master Wizard and 6 of his chief underlings. I knew he was the Big Wizard because of the beige epaulettes on his robes.
"Who are you?" he boomed.
"Ragr, of Greyhawk." I boomed back.
"Sorry, where? he replied, meekly.
"Greyhawk, that's right, pal," I triumphantly declared.
He snapped his fingers, and a chair appeared, into which I was coerced by some sorcery. A cup of tea was placed in my hand, as the Wizard and his minions fussed around me, with downcast eyes and muttering "there, there".
Some powerful charm was invoked upon me, because the next thing I know I'm leaving the tower. I glance back to find not only the Wizard, but all his henchman waving goodbye. All seemed to have tears in their eyes. I looked at the floor, overcome with sadness. When I raised my eyes again, they'd all gone. Back to the Tower, no doubt. Back to their world.
A great weight was lifted off my shoulders then. And I returned to Greyhawk with a spring in my step and a smile in my heart, knowing this for sure. They may attack it, but they cannot destroy it. Because they seemed so, well, rubbish really.
That is my tale. To the Tower. Oh! And back again.
Ummm...what I wanted to tell you is that Ed wasn't really all that harmless. If you look down, you'll notice your belt pouch is gone....
I'm concerned, if everything happened the way you said it did....how do we know that you are the real Ragr and not some Simulacrum? Perhaps you sir are some sort of wicked spy sent to garner our secrets...First your masters steal our castle now they want.....?
Is it possible that the real Ragr is dead? Perhaps being held prisoner by Ed? I think the real Ragr would have known where to put the Citadel by the Sea module, (see the Adventures for the Younger Gamer thread) only a farce would be so unfamiliar with the world so as to ask for help. Clearly a rescue mission must be launched....But where could we find adventurers brave enough? _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Ed's just a guy whose name is missing a d and an a, and if he's got my purse I'll happily provide those letters.
Simulacrum? Spy? Have you totally lost it, prophet? I've got "the real thing" tattooed on my soul. With your extraordinary powers of Divination surely you can tell the difference. By Brandobaris' nimble digits, I despair of the deceit and suspicion prevalent in the world today.
As for asking for help; even an uber character like me needs to call on friends from time to time.
Well if you are planning a second assult, I offer my humble services. I'm not sure what I can do to help other than offer divination spells however. The cryptic divinations I receive take about a hour for my party to figure out in the game. I'm sure with your experience going all the way back to 1st edition we could figure them out within a half an hour.
I'm certainly not much of a combatant. In fact I even have attack penalties due to lack of strength and a flaw from Unearthed Arcana. But none the less, I am no stranger to quests and danger. Just don't be suprised when I am standing behind you the whole time. Oh, and I tend to cry after I am forced to defend myself and slay another, and I also take time to do an After Battle Prayer as well. Did you see any giant bugs or troglodytes there? I am extremely scared of both. So what do you think? Need assistance?
As far as being suspicious, we have not idea what that funny tea you were drinking did to you. _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
It's been a blast. When I said I'm done with The Tower, I meant financially.
If you find anything out with your Divinations and need to me infiltrate that haunt of edition meddlers to confirm anything, Ragr's ready to go. This time it's personal and I won't be partaking of any "peppermint" tea. And that Ed fellow owes me a purse. Full.
Anytime your looking for me I will be standing behind you, so actually I think it's more like watching your back. Besides with you in the front I have time to brush my hair in between encounters. _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
You wanted more banter. Well, the mushrooms ran out so I thought it was time to plot my revenge on that purse filcher, Ed.
So, off I went, back to the Tower Of Inestimable Hype. I moved stealthily, like only a cruelly wronged Halfling can. And came upon Ed, that scurvy dog, sitting at his guardpost reading a copy of The Complete Watchman, a supplement offering multiple character options for doormen of all types. Placing a small knife for peeling fruit against his smooth throat, I ushered him into a small closet and demanded the return of my purse and a full explanation for his filthy thieving ways. To my surprise, he explained that his real name was, in fact, Bob. And that he worked for a guy called Eric; I kid you not. You couldn't make this stuff up. Turns out Bob, you need to pay attention at this point, had been listening intently to conversations throughout the Tower Of Our Presentations Should Be Better Prepared and had secretly made notes and passed them on to his mysterious master. When pressed, well, slapped roughly a few times to be accurate, Bob revealed that all he knew was that the information was passed on to a creature called The Jason, who was compiling a mighty tome that would possibly capture the souls of those formerly in thrall to the Wizards'. I slapped Bob again at this point, I mean dark plans are all very interesting, but what I really wanted was my bleedin' purse back.
"No, No, No," exclaimed Ed/Bob/Whatever. Turns out it was all a fiendish plan to draw me back to the Tower Of Ever Worsening Epithets so that I would be able to reveal the cunning plan to a select few worthies; that's you I guess, Prophet. Anyway, I reclaimed my purse, after checking its contents, slapped Bob a few more times-hey, it's the way of the world-and returned home. I did ask Bob if he wasn't afraid that the Wizards Of The Beige Mantle may exact a terrifying revenge upon him and his mysterious masters but it turns out that they've all signed a life long non-intervention contract or some such. I don't pretend to understand such corporate obfuscations but it sure smells like some-ones' a sucker.
So, here I am, purse retrieved, feet up in front of a nice warm fire, just waiting to see which side looks the strongest. And then? Time to make a plan. Then a contingency. Followed by an escape clause (technical term for a mid-conflict positional adjustment; that's changing sides if you're Italian. No offence meant ).
Hey there, Prophet. You wanted more banter. Well, the mushrooms ran out so I thought it was time to plot my revenge on that purse filcher, Ed.
So basically you came out of your comatose state. I have readily warned you about those mushrooms. Greyhawk City is not a safe place to be purchasing (acquiring) such additives. In all of our travels, have you not learned to pass on getting such things wholesale or occasionally picking these plants in the local dungeon. (Sigh!)
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So, off I went, back to the Tower Of Inestimable Hype. I moved stealthily, like only a cruelly wronged Halfling can. And came upon Ed, that scurvy dog, sitting at his guardpost reading a copy of The Complete Watchman, a supplement offering multiple character options for doormen of all types. Placing a small knife for peeling fruit against his smooth throat, I ushered him into a small closet and demanded the return of my purse and a full explanation for his filthy thieving ways. To my surprise, he explained that his real name was, in fact, Bob. And that he worked for a guy called Eric; I kid you not. You couldn't make this stuff up.
So you returned to the Tower of Complete Splatbook Production, good for you. My only complaint is that you didn't take me with you. You said "It is good to know I have a Prophet at my side". My guess is you took the first hussy you could find from the local tavern. Somehow I doubt Ed was reading the book, but most likely just looking at the pictures. Perhaps he was admiring the wonderful hand crafted drawings of what Greyhawk doesn't look like. Or perhaps the book went into full explanation of how doorman dragonborn have (ahem) large mammary glands. Anyway, excellent work, you found him, aproached with the necessary 3.5 skills you have acquired, and threatened him with your little plastic picnic knife.
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Turns out Bob, you need to pay attention at this point, had been listening intently to conversations throughout the Tower Of Our Presentations Should Be Better Prepared and had secretly made notes and passed them on to his mysterious master.
Now, if I understand you correctly, he clearly gave in to your demands for information after a brutal beating, and then you discovered he is working for the good guys.
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When pressed, well, slapped roughly a few times to be accurate, Bob revealed that all he knew was that the information was passed on to a creature called The Jason, who was compiling a mighty tome that would possibly capture the souls of those formerly in thrall to the Wizards'. I slapped Bob again at this point, I mean dark plans are all very interesting, but what I really wanted was my bleedin' purse back.
"No, No, No," exclaimed Ed/Bob/Whatever. Turns out it was all a fiendish plan to draw me back to the Tower Of Ever Worsening Epithets so that I would be able to reveal the cunning plan to a select few worthies; that's you I guess, Prophet.
So then you slapped the good guy up some more? Ragr, this is how villains in Greyhawk are made. You know, they start at the bottom, working for some shmuck. Then some high and mighty adventurer (or in your case short, but higher than you use to be come 4th edition) comes around, slaps them up for the heck of it, and KABOOM instant recipe for iconic Greyhawk villain. Great, now in about 3 generations your grandkids are going to have to undo all your handywork by slaying BOB, the Lich Formerly Known as ED, who lost his head with Ragr's plastic picnic knife. We are suppose to be cleaning up this World of Greyhawk, not insure the slavery of millions in the 8th edition adventure entitled The Return to the Return of What Use to be The Tomb of Horrors.
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No, No, No," exclaimed Ed/Bob/Whatever. Turns out it was all a fiendish plan to draw me back to the Tower Of Ever Worsening Epithets so that I would be able to reveal the cunning plan to a select few worthies; that's you I guess, Prophet.
Well I truly appreciate being considered worthy of such vital information. I do have one significant concern however. I have done my own research, and it seems that the Tower of Doom Grinder Backturning has unhatched an evil plot which will bring about the final destruction of Greyhawk, shortly before the 4th edition release.
Together, we must prepare for the journey for there is much to do. Using my contacts, I think I can get us there with minimal difficulty. Now, you of coarse must keep this highly sensitive information to yourself, for I am about to reveal my travel agent. He is our one and only Mort. He once provided me with a map to Ull. I did request a list of 5 star taverns along the way however, and he had the nerve to tell me to "rough it". Commoners! But, seeing the importance of this quest, I am certain that we can persuade him to provide such a document for us as well as suitable lodging for an upper class person such as myself.
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So, here I am, purse retrieved, feet up in front of a nice warm fire, just waiting to see which side looks the strongest. And then? Time to make a plan. Then a contingency. Followed by an escape clause (technical term for a mid-conflict positional adjustment; that's changing sides if you're Italian. No offence meant ). Mmnnn! Bacon sandwich.
So while I'm preparing this monumental quest of sorts before The Tower of "They Who Lost the OGL/GSL in the Mailbox" can wrought absolute anarchy upon our beloved Greyhawk, you think you have time to put your feet up by a warm fire, eat a bacon sandwich, and lolygag at the girls no doubt. Tomorrow we shall ready the caravan of 20 wagons and carts, 52 beasts of burden, 86 turkeys, 97 guardsmen, 12 pink and purple umbrellas, a random encounter generator stolen from DI so we know when and what the encounters will be, as well as being armed with the most famous Complete Book of Defeating Tharizdun wannabees, along with my favorite halfling, we shall journey to where ever Mort's map leads us. Until, then move over. And put some shoes on, didn't you read the signon the wall it says "No shirt, no shoes, no service."
By the way, are you getting use to boating these days? Oh and look at the cute little shoes Ragr's wearing.
Well now, you know I would have called you to come on the mission but I, er, well I ermm....I heard there were Trogs! That was it!
And it could have got violent (did, actually). And as you know, you being a bastion of morality, there's good violence and then there's yer bad violence. And, if something good comes out of it, y'know like information or treas....er, I mean godly rewards, then it's good violence, right? Damn these moral mazes. Now it wasn't exactly a "brutal beating", more "lively cajoling" with an open palm. You gotta be accurate, Prophet. And I didn't see any evidence to support the idea that he was a "good guy"; after all he was a spy. That sounds a fairly dubious occupation to me.
On a different subject. So the choice is a) Big T destroys the world,
b) Move to Ull.
I'm sorry, I don't see a choice there. Why not just sit in the pub and wait for the devastation to come to you. 45 Days of hardship later the conversation goes something like;
"We're here."
"Where?"
"Ull."
"Oh!"
"Do you like it?"
"Do I like WHAT?"
As we know swearing is not allowed on CF. So I'm not going to fall into the trap of your feeble attempt to goad me, by posting that link to the April Fools come early mock Halfling backstory laugh-athon on Wotc's site.
And I didn't see any evidence to support the idea that he was a "good guy"; after all he was a spy. That sounds a fairly dubious occupation to me.
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It's been a funny week. Having had a couple of conversations with my 2 regular players it seems both are in favour of adopting 4e but adapting it to our needs. I was a little surprised I have to say, but the point was made that this could mean less work overall. This was, of course, prior to Paizo's announcement, which was certainly well received by me.
Uh...huh.....according to the above quote of the day, you and the "spy" are apparently working on the same side. He works for Paizo, you stated that the Paizo news was well received by YOU. Do you deny that you made these statements? Perhaps I misunderstood your statement above. So now your implying that the spy isn't a good guy when clearly you and he are working together. That good sir, makes you guilty by association. Which in turn doesn't make you a very nice guy either. I think you should stop by my temple for a little one on on confession of the soul. Together, we shall open that closet of skeletons and purge you of the evils that lie within. If that doesn't work, we can always beat you half to death like you did to your good buddy BOB.
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Well now, you know I would have called you to come on the mission but I, er, well I ermm....I heard there were Trogs! That was it!
Well, were there troglodytes there or not? Sounds like you just trying to give me the brush off so you could walk away with more of your treas....er! I'll have you know that I dedicated any portions of the gains I would have acquired to the local orphanage. Seems there is this little place down thes street called The Little Homeless Halflings of Hawkville. They are greatly depending upon the trinkets people like you and I bring in in order to keep their doors open. Next week the government says they are going to close the doors if their back taxes aren't paid.
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And it could have got violent (did, actually). And as you know, you being a bastion of morality, there's good violence and then there's yer bad violence. And, if something good comes out of it, y'know like information or treas....er, I mean godly rewards, then it's good violence, right? Damn these moral mazes. Now it wasn't exactly a "brutal beating", more "lively cajoling" with an open palm. You gotta be accurate, Prophet.
So once again you raise your hand in violence. Fight violence with more violence....hmmm....interesting philosophy! Now were trying distinguish good violence from bad violence? Seems to me your just looking for a reason to stab your buddy BOB in the back and take his ill gotten gains. Now I know for a fact that you beat him brutally. You see BOB came to me with a mere 2 hp left out of a maximum of 81, and said that the Great Ragr beat him mercilessly, over and over. He says you even kicked his visiting grandmother in the shin and stole her purse. I cast Detect Lie and discovered that he was telling the truth. So tell me, why did you kick his grandmother in the shin and steal her purse? Don't you think that was a bit excessive?
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On a different subject. So the choice is a) Big T destroys the world,
b) Move to Ull.
I'm sorry, I don't see a choice there. Why not just sit in the pub and wait for the devastation to come to you.
So you would rather sit in the tavern, spend grandma's money, send the orphanage out of business....just for a drink or two? Meanwhile the forces of Tharizdun come crashing down upon the Flanaess in hordes like which the world has never seen before. I can practically hear the cries of pain and death wave across the Flanaess as millions of innocent people die just so you can have one more drink at your favortite watering hole. So all the time and expense I went through to get the caravan of 20 wagons and carts, 52 beasts of burden, 86 turkeys, 97 guardsmen, 12 pink and purple umbrellas, a random encounter generator stolen from DI so we know when and what the encounters will be, as well as being armed with the most famous Complete Book of Defeating Tharizdun wannabees, was for nothing, because you don't want to go?
Shhhhhh.......do you hear that....that was little Johnny screaming "Oh Mr. Cleric of Tharizdun please don't drop me into that black hole of absolute death and suffering....No please...not my little sister....Oh, no, there goes her little puppy Happy Paws, he once saved by feeble grandfather from a terrible orc attack back in 91 while grandpa was travelling uphill both ways in the dead of winter, barefoot, just so he could deliver Solace presents to my deathly ill mother.
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As we know swearing is not allowed on CF. So I'm not going to fall into the trap of your feeble attempt to goad me, by posting that link to the April Fools come early mock Halfling backstory laugh-athon on Wotc's site.
If it didn't bother you, then why were you WEARING SHOES, ON A BOAT? Clearly you have caved under the pressure of 4th edition. I also noticed that the raft was travelling in the opposite direction of the Tharizdun threat. I think you should give your little bath tub toy to the orphanage.
By the way did you know that $&66^RYT$%T%Y%TYERU^U^HYTRUHYRHTRHR%^$^TBTERB%Y^%$(*^&^$£^$^$^%$&^%UJ^J%YJ%YJY%J in Ancient Baklunish means that Eileen, Prophet of Istus is always right and I am her personal servant until the ends of time? It's true, it really does. So I appreciate the loyalty on your part. I do believe your first duty shall be to give me a manicure! _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
My poor, deluded, cloistered Prophet. You really must get out more often. Next time you're passing wherever I've laid my hat, pop in for a lesson from the University of Life. The School of Street. The College Of Reality. Working for a "common cause" is not "being on the same side". Tut, tut.
Of course they were Trogs. Ugly, pale and distinctly ripe. Definitely Trogs. Or gamers, of course.
Now, I'm an equal opportunities Halfling, so if those lazy sods at The Little Homeless Halflings' whatever are too useless to seize, and I mean seize, the moments presented to them by the great inattentive then they deserve all they get. Don't come to me waving that charity box around, 'cause I'll send you home with an empty container for a helmet.
Bob had 81 hp . In the words of the great Doppleganger, "I'm bad, I'm bad. Y'know it."
And that was Bob's grandmother? Heck! I thought it was Iggwilv. No wonder the purse was a little light.
I have no problem with little Johnny's wailing, but all your blathering is depressing the hell out of me. So, if you promise to stop hectoring me I'll come to Ull. But it had better be worth it. I don't want to hear nothing about soul cleansing.
I can do manicures. No problem. You said you wanted those nails short, right?
My poor, deluded, cloistered Prophet. You really must get out more often.
Wow, is that your way of asking me out? Wow, a date, Oh boy! Hmmm.....human and halfling with shoes, interesting. I suppose we could put really big lifts in your shoes or maybe get you some shoes of growth before we stop by my parents mansion outside of Greyhawk City. You know where Zagyg's Bridge is right? There's a small hill which overlooks it with a wonderful little mansion on top, that's where I live. It's been in the family for generations. Anyway, my dad works for the Greyhawk militia as a Commander so please make sure your dressed appropriately, call him sir until he asks you to address him differently and make sure that he knows that you have nothing but the best intentions with his little girl. Mum retired early from wizardry and now works primarly as a painter, so make sure you check out her painting gallery and request that she does a piece of work for you. Now they are going to ask you all sorts of questions, like who your parents are, where you live, what kind of halfling you are, if you wear pink and polka dot pants, you know, all the usual sorts of questions one gets, so make sure your on your best behavior and absolutely no borrowing/selectively taking/stealing/taking without asking/or otherwise acquiring anything in the house. Dad's got access to the keys to the citadel prison and it would really be embarressing if you ended up there. But before we go, we should really go shopping, your going to need some new clothes, those rags you have on simply will not do!
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Next time you're passing wherever I've laid my hat, pop in for a lesson from the University of Life. The School of Street. The College Of Reality.
Wow, sounds like we are going to have lots of fun after the dinner at my parents house. Do you plan on taking me to all the seedy places I have never been allowed? Keep in mind that a lot of people in Greyhawk City know who I am by name and face and that I need to maintain my wholesome reputation. Wow, this is going to be so cool. I betcha we will even see a real live thief, or maybe a gambling house. Hey do you think we could take a tour of the thieves guild while we are in all the neat areas of Greyhawk City? Oh, and then I could take you around, you know, maybe stop by the homes of the various Olgarchy members, the theater, ummm....maybe a walk in the North Hills Park!
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Of course they were Trogs. Ugly, pale and distinctly ripe. Definitely Trogs. Or gamers, of course.
Yea, I guess your right, I'm standing next to you and now that you mention it I can smell them on you. You want to stand downwind, move a little bit to the left, the sun is in my eyes...oh never mind, your not tall enough!, Just stand downwind. You will visit the bath house right before the big night right?
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Now, I'm an equal opportunities Halfling, so if those lazy sods at The Little Homeless Halflings' whatever are too useless to seize, and I mean seize, the moments presented to them by the great inattentive then they deserve all they get. Don't come to me waving that charity box around, 'cause I'll send you home with an empty container for a helmet.
Ok, I was thinking that eventually we would have, you know a big family, but I can see that your now quite ready for that, so maybe we will just get dog instead. I'm mean really, calling them lazy sods and saying they are useless and don't seize their opportunities....wow, kinda harsh.....you don't kick puppies do you? Oh, I get it, your just trying out your macho, tough guy routine thinking that in these hard times it will impress my dad! Gotcha! he's actually not like that at all. He is really nice. He only condemed 14 people to hanging last week and 2 just lost multiple appendages.
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I have no problem with little Johnny's wailing,
Oh, you want to name our first child Johnny. Ok, that works for me.
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Bob had 81 hp . In the words of the great Doppleganger, "I'm bad, I'm bad. Y'know it. "And that was Bob's grandmother? Heck! I thought it was Iggwilv. No wonder the purse was a little light.
Yes, Bob had 81 hit points! His grandmother had -3. Oh, and the purse may have been light but it was filled with those new forms of 4th edition currency, what are they called, astral diamonds I think. Just one of those is worth like $10,000 gold. I don't know how you figured Bob's Grandmother was Iggwilv, the woman was unconconscious sitting in her rocking chair, with needle point in her lap. I still can't believe you kicked her in the shin as well. Kinda reminds me of that moving illusion I once saw starring Chevy Chase, I think it was called National Lampouns Vacation. Old Aunt died so they sat her on top of their magical carriage and then it started to rain as they travelled down the road.
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all your blathering is depressing the hell out of me. So, if you promise to stop hectoring me I'll come to Ull. But it had better be worth it. I don't want to hear nothing about soul cleansing.
Are you off your meds again? You know the doctor says you won't get better if you don't keep taking your medicine. Depression is a very serious issue in todays World of Greyhawk. Statistics prove that 1 out of every 7 people still suffer from post Greyhawk Wars syndrown. 1 out of 4 halflings suffer from height depresssion and try to compensate by wearing shoes. 1 out of 3 citizens who spend more than 5 hours a week at the tavern suffer from depression related alcoholism. Finally, 1 out of 5 join the Thieve's Guild because they are seeking a sense of belonging.
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I can do manicures. No problem. You said you wanted those nails short, right?
I want them tipped and sharp, a brilliant red color, and while your at it, I think we should do your toes as well. Do you like hot pink? _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
LoL. That is one of the funniest replies I've read all week Eileen. post Greyhawk Wars syndrome! Man can I steal that line?
Your family background and familiarity with GHC also astounds me. I can't wait to see how Ragr responds. *psst Ragr...Bridge of Entwined Hearts*
Mort, I don't know what passes for entertainment in Ull, although I could hazard a guess or two, but if you think I'm going to meet Eileen on The Bridge Of Entwined Things while you and a group of hairy, unclean, horse botherers watch on with popcorn and malice aforethought, think again. Wrong kind of fantasy, brov!
Meet the Eileens? OMG! Are you truly insane? Maybe you're one of those Doomdweebies. And btw, this IS my best behaviour. It doesn't get any cleaner and more respectful than this. The pink polka dot thing was a one off. I needed to sneak into the Temple Of Heironeous unnoticed.
Your family sounds so lovely. The mansion so wonderful. Your mum's a painter, your dad's old bill (eh, cop). How idyllic. Makes me wanna go Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhh! And then heave. And then heave an orphan. Off the same hill. Come the revolution though, sister, I'm afraid it's the wall for your kind.
Now I've told you before, if you're going to bandy around terms like "thief", you better have some cold, hard evidence. And, as a wise colleague of mine once said, "we don't need no stinkin' badges". Or guilds.
So, your father hangs people. Doesn't quite fit with that wholesome image you cultivate, Prophet. But, if they were dumb enough to get caught I guess hangings almost too good for them. That's some dichotomy you've got going there. Your father hangs criminals on behalf of the city. The city is run by Thi......Oh, sorry. For one moment there I forgot how to spell Oligarchs. And you claim to know a few "Oligarchs" personally. Interesting.
Iggwilv/Bob's Grandmother was asleep? Jeez, I thought she was spellcasting. I thought the knitting needles were some kind of new fangled arcane focus jobbywhatsit. And that new 4e currency; A copper conman, a silver smug, a gold greedy, and a platinum pay pay pay and pay some more. That'll never catch on. Will it?
As for your statistics; I don't know whose sadder. The people who are them, or the people who quote them.
Mort, I don't know what passes for entertainment in Ull, although I could hazard a guess or two, but if you think I'm going to meet Eileen on The Bridge Of Entwined Things while you and a group of hairy, unclean, horse botherers watch on with popcorn and malice aforethought, think again. Wrong kind of fantasy, brov!
Apparently Mort at least has a romantic side to him.
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Meet the Eileens? OMG! Are you truly insane? Maybe you're one of those Doomdweebies. And btw, this IS my best behaviour. It doesn't get any cleaner and more respectful than this. The pink polka dot thing was a one off. I needed to sneak into the Temple Of Heironeous unnoticed.
Well I have no idea what a Doomdweebies is but it doesn't sound good. I have seen the future my little friend and all I have to say is that for you, yes it does get cleaner, as far as best behavior, well that will be your choice, wondering what I am talking about, read on....
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Your family sounds so lovely. The mansion so wonderful. Your mum's a painter, your dad's old bill (eh, cop). How idyllic. Makes me wanna go Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhh! And then heave. And then heave an orphan. Off the same hill.
Of coarse my family is lovely, what else would they be? Of coarse the mansion is lovely, its been in the family for years. The property was originally handed to the family from Mayor Zagig Yragerne himself. You would know this if you ever bothered to read my character sheet. As you should know by now, I was selected by Istus personally for the entire salvation of the Flanaess. Such a job requires having the right attributes, such as great faith, charisma, and a lovely family, with a lovely home, on a lovely hill, overlooking a lovely bridge which crosses a lovely river, which flows pass a lovely city, which is the heart of a lovely game world, run by a lovely DM.
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Now I've told you before, if you're going to bandy around terms like "thief", you better have some cold, hard evidence. And, as a wise colleague of mine once said, "we don't need no stinkin' badges". Or guilds.
Uh huh....do you see where this is going? Because I do! But then again, that's my job, to see things that you can't see, because they haven't happened yet! Keep reading....
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So, your father hangs people. Doesn't quite fit with that wholesome image you cultivate, Prophet. But, if they were dumb enough to get caught I guess hangings almost too good for them. That's some dichotomy you've got going there. Your father hangs criminals on behalf of the city. The city is run by Thi......Oh, sorry. For one moment there I forgot how to spell Oligarchs. And you claim to know a few "Oligarchs" personally.
I daresay I do not cultivate a wholesome image, I worship the Goddess of Truth, so I don't lie nor exaggerate. It just happens to be that I am lovely, smart, and well mannered. As for my Father, now he is actually more of a soldier who has moved up the ranks and now holds a position of authority. His superior education and experience has granted him a position in which he is allowed to make the necessary decisions in keeping the riff raff out of Greyhawk City...more on this later....As for the specifics of the punishments handed down, well lets just say that he and I are Lawful Neutral (No not undecided like future variations will be), we are absolute in our convictions. We believe that the laws of our good city are fair and worthy of representing the belief system of society. If you are uncomfortable with the laws of the land perhaps you should do something to change that. We have a wonderful legal system in place just for people of discontent like yourself. The Oligarchy will be meeting next week if you would like to arrange a council with them. Perhaps you could bring your list of "new and better laws" with and present them to the council. That is if you can find the time....
And yes I know all of the Oligarchs currently in place within the city of Greyhawk. Mind you, I didn't say it was on any kind of personal level, but yes, I do know them. For the sake of political correctness, I will state that certain opinons of various individuals I am in accordant with while others are should we say less properly guided and motivated in their decisions concerning our fair city. Heck, if you think you can do a better job then go for it. I have it on good authority that one such member will soon be stepping down. No I can't tell you which one either. Yes I know which one as well as why they will be stepping down!
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Interesting
Of coarse, everything I say and do is interesting. Thats because I am a lovely and interesting person, not to mention dedicated, responsible, wealthy, beautiful, intelligent, and loyal.
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And that new 4e currency; A copper conman, a silver smug, a gold greedy, and a platinum pay pay pay and pay some more. That'll never catch on. Will it?
Not not in Greyhawk. It will be even less popular in future editions of D&D as well. 5th edition will be marketed as back to the basics, though this will be a bit of spin, there will be thread of significant truth to it as well, but we need to wait a few years for that one. Although if I were you, I would start collecting some of these coins if you can find them in mint condition. They won't be in circulation all that long.
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Iggwilv/Bob's Grandmother was asleep? Jeez, I thought she was spellcasting. I thought the knitting needles were some kind of new fangled arcane focus jobbywhatsit.
Tsk, tsk, apparently you thought wrong. She was sewing a new sweater for your son little Johnny!
Funeral processions for Bob's Grandmother will take place on Gods Day at 2:00 in the afternoon. Please bring a food or beverage along with your sincere condolences to the family.
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As for your statistics; I don't know whose sadder. The people who are them, or the people who quote them.
Your just upset because I quoted them first.
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3 Hours later, in the Citadel of Greyhawk City, the courtroom of Commander Barius of Greyhawk, Imperial Guardsman Commander, Judge of the City of Greyhawk.....
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG....."ATTENTION, ATTENTION....THE HEARING OF RAGR VERSUS THE CITY OF GREYHAWK WILL NOW COME TO ORDER.....NOW THAT THE ACCUSED HAS BEEN PROPERLY BATHED AND ATTIRED AFTER CONSIDERABLE DIFFICULTY MAY I ADD, NEVER IN ALL MY YEARS HAVE I EVER SEEN A HALFLING PUT UP SUCH A FUSS ABOUT HAVING TO TAKE A BATH.
RAGR, ON THE CHARGES OF MURDER, THEFT, CONSPIRACY TO STEAL, BREAKING AND ENTERING, INDUSTRIAL ESPIONAGE, SLANDER, THROWING AN ORPHAN OFF THE BRIDGE OF ZAGYG, HURLING OFF THE BRIDGE OF ZAGYG AND POLLUTING THE WATERWAYS OF THE SELINTAN RIVER, REPEATED CASES OF ASSAULT (SUCH AS BOB AND JACK THE RHENNEE WHO WAS TRAVELING DOWN THE SELINTAN WHEN YOU HURLED OVER THE BRIDGE), BREAKING A DATE WITH MY LOVELY DAUGHTER EILEEN, ALONG WITH NUMEROUS OTHER CRIMINAL ACTIONS TO LENGTHY TO SPECIFY AT THIS TIME), HOW DO YOU PLEA? _________________ Eileen of Greyhawk, Prophet of Istus, Messenger of the Gods
Poor Ragr, nicked by the rozzers, stripped out of 'is bling an' burberry an' sent up front of old Barnaby.
This merits a play by Liam Willspire, the Bard of Willip. "Never was there a tale of more woe than this of Eileen and her Ragr." No wait, that doesn't rhyme. Tale of more "stager".... "plaiger"... "beiger".... Man, I need a drink.
Hey, Smillan, that had me in stitches. You must related to **** Van Dyke; "Cahm ohrn Mairy Pop'inns". The only British accent worse than that was the bloke who played Daphne's brother in Frasier, I forget his name, fortunately.
Eileen, you know the Doomdweebies; heck we've been talking about "The Temple" enough recently. It's them purple clad losers Mort so brilliantly sends up.
My plea shall be entered by my solicitor from the firm of Shuttlecock & Wing-Tip Curlytoes;
Murder; Not guilty, on the grounds that most of those slain were in self defence, already dead, or, as fate would have it, just got in the way at the wrong time. Blame Istus not my client.
Theft; Not guilty, on the grounds that, because of a religious conviction, my client believes that all property is theft, and to accuse my client thus is tantamount to religious persecution by the state. Prosecution on these counts would cause untold uproar among many churches (Trithereon) opening the city up to discontent from within.
Breaking and entering; Not guilty. My client denies breaking anything, and only entered at the request of the tenant.
Industrial espionage; Not guilty. My client undertook a mission of great interest to the whole of Greyhawk, encouraged, if I might add, by certain Prophets. My client was poisoned, subject to rude taunts about the validity of the world in which he lived and exposed to the colour Beige for prolonged bouts. Yet, despite suffering such degradations, he returned to impart what he had learned to all of this world. My client should be rewarded, not prosecuted, for such selfless conduct.
Slander; Not guilty. A truth is a truth, a fact a fact. Such plain speaking honesty is to be applauded in this day and age. My client belongs to no secret society or brotherhood. If he ever had designs on world domination my client would inform all of his intentions; there is past precedence and supporting evidence to this end, my lovely man, er..Judge.
Throwing of an orphan; Not guilty. See next charge.
Assault; Not guilty. Jack the Rhennee was on the run....I mean float, from the authorities. My client, spying the fleeing miscreant, used the only weapon he had to hand in order to arrest the criminals' flight. My client has accepted no credit for his valorous apprehension of this notorious felon, choosing to allow all the credit to be given to the falling orphan, Brian Grubbyaffairs, who is currently recovering, and doing well, at the Temple of Pelor. As for Bob; in a matter of world shaking import, sometimes one has to defend oneself with reciprocal force, and this my client did in the name of his beloved and beleaguered Greyhawk. It was not my clients' fault that Bob's granny was an absolute ringer for Iggwilv, and that he decided to rid the world of such a fiend. I'm sure (heavy sarcasm), you would all have accepted such a challenge without regard for your own health and prosperity.
Breaking a date? Er..... My lord, I'm not sure this is actually illegal. Now, abuse of authority; there's a perfidious thing for sure.
Other charges; Well, you'll need to be specific in order for me to enter a plea on these. But, as you can see, my client is only too willing to co-operate, and it is surely now apparent that despite the sheer volume of accusations thrown his way he is, in fact, and word and deed, a very good Halfling. Although, perhaps occasionally, a little naughty.
I implore you, my lovely lord, dismiss these charges and restore my clients reputation. Such as it is.
Getting back to the deific discussion, at least Bahamut and Pelor are not having it as bad as Xan Yae, Zuoken, and Zodal. With the monks not making the cut in the first release of 4e, these deities are losing a large percentage of their worshipers.
Hey, Smillan, that had me in stitches. You must related to **** Van Dyke; "Cahm ohrn Mairy Pop'inns". The only British accent worse than that was the bloke who played Daphne's brother in Frasier, I forget his name, fortunately.
One part **** Van Dyke, one part Don Cheadle's character in Ocean's 11 and one part Val's Halal Kebab Emporium from rathergood.com. You should hear me do my "The angriest man in Cork" impersonation sometime.
I'm hoping you're talking about the Australian guy who played one of Daphne's brothers, because I'm pretty sure the other two brothers were played by British actors. That'd be funny if a British actor did the worst British accent ever.
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Canonfire! is a production of the Thursday Group in assocation with GREYtalk and Canonfire! Enterprises
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Somehow I doubt Ed was reading the book, but most likely just looking at the pictures. Perhaps he was admiring the wonderful hand crafted drawings of what Greyhawk doesn't look like. Or perhaps the book went into full explanation of how doorman dragonborn have (ahem) large mammary glands. Anyway, excellent work, you found him, aproached with the necessary 3.5 skills you have acquired, and threatened him with your little plastic picnic knife.
Great, now in about 3 generations your grandkids are going to have to undo all your handywork by slaying BOB, the Lich Formerly Known as ED, who lost his head with Ragr's plastic picnic knife. We are suppose to be cleaning up this World of Greyhawk, not insure the slavery of millions in the 8th edition adventure entitled The Return to the Return of What Use to be The Tomb of Horrors.
Wow, a date, Oh boy! 
