Joined: 21 Mar 2006
|Posted: Fri Nov 30, 2007 12:52 am Post subject: Oswald's mini adventures
|This is the story of a man. His name? Oswald Iambdnd. I have always wondered, what do DnD characters do in their off time? Sleep, drink, visit the brothel? My only answer to this is: I rolled a 6.
Oswald sat at the local bar, still celebrating after a well played card game. Slamming the glass mug into the counter, a loud, unquivering belch exploded from his mouth, and the whole saloon froze in time for just a split second to look at our drunken hero before continuing on. The barkeep grabbed Oswald’s mug and filled it up, shrugging his shoulders when Oswald gulped the thing down in seconds. It wasn't his problem that Oswald had to much money to spend, and he was making a nice profit on whatever this guy's problem was.
After twenty more rounds of this the whole bar was now watching Oswald chug down another pint of alcohol and another belch would escape from his thirsty mouth. Tomorrow would be worse then the 9th level of heck, but Oswald didn't care, he was to rich to do that. It was then, that a spark hit the embers in the bar. Another loud noise came from Oswald, but this time from his nether region. It droned on and on, kept a low but constant tone. The seconds dragged on, and still it continued. Finally after nearly a minute the beast suddenly and instantly stopped, and the bar was silent. A middle age man broke this forever silence, throwing up his hands and shouting at Oswald at the top of his lungs, proclaiming he was sick and tired of this.
His hands suddenly flew into a series of gestures, and the path between the man and Oswald cleared as the man muttered under his breath. Oswald had seen a mage before, heck he lived with one and he knew that this was trouble. But he did not care; he was to rich to have trouble. Standing up, Oswald let out a giggle before making some gestures somewhat similar to the mage and copying the movements.
A lesson for those of you who are uneducated with the magic arts, one is that mages require extreme dexterity with their hands to make all the magical gestures. Oswald, while very in tune with his body, is drunk and is lucky to be standing. The second lesson is that mages study for their whole life time for these magical words for a reason so it literally burns into their brain. Oswald has hung around a few mages, but he has only opened a book a handful of times, much less a spell book.
Finally, magic is conjured by the mage from within himself. Not some weak thing like clerics who are basically doing a giant prayer to the gods so they will heal something, this is pure energy. Oswald had some energy like all regular men, maybe even a bit more, but not flowing from his body like mages.
But luckily for Oswald the liquor he was drinking was watered down, the movements were exactly the same as his fighting technique, and the words muttered were actually a saying his mother use to tell him.
He failed spectacularly.
The mage let out a mighty blast of energy, heading straight for Oswald. Oswald only had one chance and he failed, and blast came from him and exploded a few feet from him, diverting the blast in some random direction and sending chicken feathers and tar all over the bar. Within seconds every feathered man, women, and dog were fighting each other. Stumbling out of the bar, Oswald wandered the streets, knocking on houses until he found his way to the guild.
49 hit points