Sometimes a character is fun to play and just doesn't fit in the group. And rule number 1, is always have fun. But what happens when your fun is at the expense of the other 4, 5, or 6 people at the table's fun? Does that mean yours doesn't count? Does theirs? Who decides where the "fun" line is and when it is ok to cross it or not?
We had a returning player who hasn't been in 1 of my games for 13 years roll up a character and flesh it out, introduce it to the group, and then after a week - realize that although it is a fun character - it's not fun for the group.
So he did the very adult thing, after thinking about it all week, he wrote his new character out and immediate rolled up a different one.
And that's why I like playing with established groups and with mature people. It was better that everyone have a good time that just the shock value of himself.
Write up follows:
Our return to Shakun was a tremendous success and it took us almost no time to glad hand with the welcoming crew, as well as the Baron and his men. We were invited to the Baron’s that evening for dinner which we gladly accepted. Getting paid from the caravan master we headed to the Hall of Heroes and looked to relax for a few hours.
In our time gone (as well as the hot summer), the Hall has been slowly falling apart. There are chinks in the mortar, the shutters sag slightly, the place is musty and smells – the entire place needs a good cleaning. Bullbowl felt very ill at ease – the 9’ plus tall half-ogre did not fit through the front door, and he was unable to stand up inside the place (8’ ceilings). He went outside and leaned against the building instead, cleaning hit feet and toes. Steiner didn’t see the allure and left, heading to the Ogre Door Inn to get a bath. Curufin went to the General Store and Trading Post to purchase a broom. Flimflam went upstairs to look at the “mushroom” room – and it had gotten a bit fecund over the last month or so. Plus, a squirrel or two have clawed their way in through a broken bit of eaves.
Bullbowl was sitting out there, kilt riding up and high, when either one of the Marshall’s men came by or someone had called for the Marshall’s man – wither was in was Zenfirus, the Marshall’s Interrogator, who was questioning Bullbowl as to who he was, what was he doing here, and why was he here. He lured Bullbowl to come with him, leading him to the Marshall’s Office, before trying to get him to get into a cell at the end – promising him a puppy (too eat? Um…sure! If you want).
The barbarian did not fall for it though and instead looked at Zenfirus with quiet malice and said simply, “I rage.” The barbarian then tried to tear the wiry man’s arm off. With a twist and scream, the deputy raced away from the Half-ogre and hid in one of the cells.
Flimflam arrived around the same time now, just as the furious barbarian was exiting the Marshall’s office, with the Marshall right behind him. He seemed to sag and Flimflam sent him back to the Hall to relax. Meanwhile, Bullbowl was getting it in his head that he should kill Zenfirus and maybe the Marshall.
The party spent an inordinate amount of time convincing Bullbowl that it would be VERY bad if he did that and maybe the best that be gotten was some sort of honor duel – but only IF Zenfirus started it. We got ready for dinner and then went to the Town Hall for a delicious meal with almost 40 of the leaders in the town. Already a dozen of the horses have been purchased and the feeling was that the rest of the stock would be sold in the next couple of days.
But what we concerned about did happen as Bullbowl forced a bowl of soup to be dumped on Zenfirus during the meal, which had him stand up and NOT get upset. Until Curufin stood near the deputy and threw his voice to make it sound like the deputy challenged Bullbowl. There was much discussion and denial, but the half-ogre had accepted and it was witnessed and seconded. But Baron Taugis wanted this to end for now and to enjoy dinner. Zenfirus left, followed by the Marshall.
The next morning we ate breakfast and then went to town square to see the duel. The Marshall was very against it, and for those looking, we could tell that this was going to go poorly at some level for the group – especially since Zenfirus kept saying he didn’t want to do this. But before it actually started, he whipped a handful of pepper and glass shards into Bullbowl’s eyes, making the half Ogre stagger around blinded.
Then a poisoned knife followed and a deep cut ended up on the half-ogre’s leg. The fight was on – Zenfirus dodging and ducking, trying to hamstring the half-ogre, and Bullbowl windmilling his arms in an effort to grab the elusive deputy.
And in a blind accident, he managed to snag Zenfirus’ shoulder. His free hand grabbed the deputy’s knife hand and crushed the bones there, causing the knife to fall. The fighting was milling all over and then Bullbowl roared out and slammed his ham-like hand into Zenfirus’ groin, grabbed hard and caused the deputy to scream in a high-pitched whine and start to PULL. The crowd roared in anger and Marcus who had been ready for something hurled rose petals at the combatants and cast a sleep spell – dropping Bullbowl who fell with the deputy who was bleeding from his crotch.
In the aftermath of the combat, Zenfirus had lost a testicle and his manhood was ripped but not torn from his body. He would require almost a week of bed rest. Steiner cast cure moderate wounds on the deputy, his efforts allowing the man to heal rapidly and at least keep his…parts – most of them.
This was not going to work out. Flimflam had a heart to heart talk with the half-ogre who also realized that life up here in the civilized lands just was not for him. They parted as friends and Bullbowl left town for the long walk back to the Beastly Hills.
Many hours later the party had joined the town elders and other merchant families and heads at the town hall to discuss the sales as they have gone on – but more importantly, to talk about the number of goblins that have been found in the area as of late. With the upcoming winter, their presence has been on the rise and the group had been tasked with two things – removal of bandits in the environs to allow trade roads to open and to keep the goblin presences down to a minimum.
At this point a tall black haired fighter looking guy stepped up, called himself Kalt and that he was a member of what he called the First Sons of Shakun. Wanted a chance to be an alternative adventuring group in town, our charter was over (6 months), and other items. We held him off and had a copy of a new charter in hand, signing it at the hall and promising to submit it in the next few days. As for a guide to the goblin caves, there would someone called Scarene, a hunter of sorts, who would meet with us to lead up to where we needed to go.
Marcus answered an invitation that Enthir had sent him to come and join him and a few of the other elves for drink and some news. So he joined the elder grey elf at Nadeer Strongriver’s home in Elven quarter – an archer of some renown who had settled here after the war, and Halden Singeflower, a warrior/wizard of low skill who also had left the politics of Woodhelven behind.
The stories shared during the drinking and bantering were disturbing to Marcus. First, Pelis the Rugmerchant had a period of bad luck (something that doesn’t happen to the information broker ever thanks to his numerous luck fetishes) where he broke his ankle yesterday on an unlucky trip down the steps. This had Enthir mention it to some of the other friends in the neighborhood and got them to talking.
Nadeer has a music crystal he’s owned for years, a gift from a relative back in Woodhelven. It plays some elvish music when he is feeling homesick, but something odd is happening to it lately as it has been behaving poorly. Sometimes not starting, other times playing slowly. Almost as if it’s magic was failing but that makes no sense.
Halden, who is a local lothario with the human women in town, did admit to picking up a striking blond woman with grey eyes recently and bringing her back to his place. But in the morning he felt exhausted, drained, and his mind was blank of spells as if he had cast them – but there was no sign that he ever actually did. It was many hours later before he felt well enough to get out of bed.
The conversation then turned to magic and what’s going on. Obviously failing, but that makes no sense. Magic permeates the world in a net called the Weave, and is powered strongest along leylines. The spaces between these leylines normally are filled with magic, but something seems to be draining them here in Shakun’s area, and it seems to be affecting everything.
There are ways to “fill” the boxes back up – usually a birth of something Fey does it (dragons, unicorns, dryads, etc…) – but the feeling is that maybe something is moving the leylines. Right now there isn’t a lot of “real” information to go on, just noticed stuff by Enthir and some of the other elves in town – but they wanted to get Marcus involved early and maybe he and the rest of the party can look into it before it becomes a real issue.