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(For your reading pleasure, I submit “The Great and Glorious Deeds of Hector, God of Retribution,” an adventure log from a memorable, if ill-fated, adventure played in the fall of 2006.  Forever after, the player who ran Connor was always throwing his sword, hoping to duplicate his success.)

Scroll I

Fizzt-whip… Craaak!  Blackness.  Alone… No… Not alone… Monster!  I cried out to my divine protector.  When I thought all was lost, I perceived his approach.  “No one fear, Hector is here!” he proclaimed, an aura of light framing his majestic face, ancient magic glowing about his chiseled physique.  Effortlessly, he dropped the largest of my attackers, generously leaving the barely living beast to me to finish, before turning to torture the other.  It was to be a magnificent shared kill, until that antisocial degenerate dwarf materialized from nowhere and hogged all the glory.

Who invited her, anyway?

The beneficent Hector fell to distributing the wealth, showering all present and alive with silver and platinum, even his sidekick elven ranger-druid and that dwarf ruffian, permitting me a moment of adoration as his terrifying minotaur minions dragged the felled vermin and remaining spoils into his mystifying pocket in space-time, which he seems to have prudently deemed sufficient for treasure hoarding.

Heedlessly striding ahead, the dwarf pushed through the doorway, and tumbled us into a trigger-happy elf.  I’m inclined to believe the elf had some sense in him, as he did not square off with Hector, and instead fired off a pair of quick shots at the weaker foes before Hector blew him into the next life in one flaming swoop.  I’m not sure if it’s good training or impertinence, but the dwarf looted the body, passing off all items of value to the Great One, who permitted me to acquire his opponent’s humble armor and sword.

For the next three weeks he camped and focussed all his energy and intent on the wondrous crafting of an awe-inspiring suit of animated dragon-bone armor.  I am utterly dumbstruck by his majesty.  One cannot help but be floored at the sight of his beatific countenance: his flesh luminescent and pale, as if at a perpetual fever pitch, a pair of blackly glowing fire-opal-emerald eyes radiating from the roving sockets of the bone-chilling dragon skull to match his own red-caste eyes.

His sidekick spend the time stringing together what turned out to be a bow, which he required the forced aid of both the dwarf and I to complete.  It is not nearly as impressive.

When next we sallied forth, we ventured into the treasure-laden lair of Trogdor, the Burninator.  Trogdor proved impervious to the missile issued from the bow-of-limited-worthiness of Hector’s sidekick, and too swift to fall victim to his attempt at opening a trench below him, while the dwarf futilely pitched pieces of gold in its general direction.  Hector, confident in his abilities, toyed with this formidable opponent by intentionally shooting a bolt of lightening and swinging his stave past him, allowing me time to would the flaming fiend, before utterly destroying (well, exploding) the monster with an effortlessly-cast cone of ice.

When his skeletal minions finished sweeping the body into storage, he strode forward and opened a door that had not been there a moment before, and lead us into a curious nursery.  It was dominated by an eight-foot-tall stuffed Dire Bear (which the dwarf charged) and also housed a six-legged purple cat with glowing red eyes.  When it moved, it seemed blurred, and weapons which should have landed a sound thunking passed harmlessly through its being.  We engaged, and as I rushed past the place it was, all went black.

The next thing I recall is the magnificent sight of Hector, aglow with power, calling me back to the land of the living and filling me with vigor.  I saw nothing of the battle, which was over before I came to, but I’m certain Hector conducted himself admirably and dispatched the feline in record time.

In an adjoining hallway, the dim-witted dwarf met a somewhat surprising end.  She opened a door and… disintegrated.

I am not particularly heartbroken.  Hector took no umbrage at her loss.

To my joy, through the portal stepped a fellow torch-bearer.  I hardly had time to marvel at the fact she had managed to survive the last two months before she fell prone at the feet of the Great One, and became a Sister in the Faith at that moment.

Moments later, our troupe found itself under attack by a levitating goblin with the teeth of a wolf.  It ravaged the sidekick, but Hector riddled it with fireballs.  I was finally able to demonstrate some level of my skill and inflicted enough damage to fell the creature, by the grace of our benefactor.

The druid chose that moment to challenge our Lord’s divinity, and was proven inept, as his most ferocious form was a mere dog, as compared to our Master’s dragon.  Since then, he has been most supportive of the faith, even encouraging tests of faith, some of which Hector has generously permitted.

The temple of doors lead us in circles, most often back to the room of the purple cat, but once back to Trogdor’s lair, before we were set upon by surprise by a pair of basilisk, which turned half our weak-willed team to stone before my god dispatched them both with panache, and whisked me back to the colony of halflings, where I was able to fulfill my dream of building a way-temple to His Glory.  I have high hopes for conversion in this place.

Scroll II

We passed a comfortable week in the halfling town of Cobbler’s Stone, official site of the very first way-temple to His Glory, Hector.  I’m quite satisfied with how it turned out, despite the fact that I am not particularly skilled in construction.  The station is a very recognizable likeness, and I included a halo for good measure.  I am also pleased to report that we’ve converted 26 of the locals to the Noble Faith.

As we were preparing to venture forth again, my benefactor gifted me with the most beautiful headband.  I almost feel… smarter.

Before we could discuss our next direction, the druid dashed headlong through one of the 8 doors surrounding the halfling valley.  Propping the portal open with an unused torch, we followed him into a lovely dimensional island, populated by 60 Votec villagers.  After some discussion , we convinced the leader of Hector’s divinity and lead the entire colony back into Cobbler’s Stone, dancing and rejoicing at the promise of Hector the Glorious leading them home to the Mythic Motherland to rejoin their brethren, not to mention also converting the druid and the wandering fighter!

Oddly, just after the last savage came through the doorway, something that would best be described as a light elemental appeared.  The battle that ensued was dizzying.  The fighter go a few really good shots in before he managed to pitch his great sword out of the fight, and swung ineffectively for the remainder.  The druid did land several “light bruising” hits, whereas my attacks were pleasantly effective.  But Hector was magnificent, as always.  The creature took massive damage every time he smote him with his staff, and darkness seamed its being with each mighty thwack, until it exploded, leaving only a white gem behind.  Hector said it was a stone of light, and one of the sixteen needed to reopen the portal from whence we came.

Of course, as soon as the creature was defeated, the sun leapt below the horizon and, amazingly, another sixty villagers appeared, milling about the settlement.  This crowd was lizardmen, and proved easier to convince to join us.

Today was a good day!

Until the “dark” spirit shard appeared.  We figured it’d show up, but didn’t expect it to be so much tougher than the other. Even the supreme Hector was taken aback, and in one attack it dropped me.

Things are a little fuzzy after that.  I know the sidekick healed me, and we all retreated through the hut-doorway, and Hector formed a great wall of stone to delay the advance of the creature of darkness.  Figuring we had time before it would manage to break through, Hector returned to crafting magical items for his followers.  I focussed my efforts on the newcomers, to draw them into the fold, and our host swelled to 110.

Then I died.  I was later informed that I rose as a vampire, tainted by the negative energy of that dark creature, and under its command.  Apparently, I spider-scaled the stone blockage and attempted to chip through it, so the sidekick opened a passage (which seems stupid, but what else do you expect?)

Of course the creature rushed through, and mayhem ensued.  In this case, “mayhem” involved that half-wit fighter swinging me against the wall a time or two before they beat me into submission and Hector turned me back to The Way.  By that time, the sidekick had shaped stone around the spirit shard and buried it below 16 feet of cave floor so we could take stock of the situation.  We determined the best way to face it down would be b ganging up on it with magical weapons.  My spiritual weapon was a good idea, but not particularly effective.  Actually, the real surprises this time around were in the sneak attack of the newly-arrived ex-torchbearer with the skills of a thief who landed two amazing shots, and Connor the fighter (whom everybody calls “Bob,”) threw his sword as it flew above us — he is always throwing it through combat — and struck the killing blow.



et cetera