Creating the Ultimate Fighter Dude
Lyzander's goal- knighthood, wenches, fame, fortune... wenches... more fortune... getting to burn stuff down in the King's name... wenches... free beer... did I mention the wenches?
     A killing machine.
      A Cuisinart with a wicked grin.
      A man whose overall look can scare... blind people.
      These were the ideas that Rich Fleming, my friend of 20 years, had, when he decided to create Lyzander du Lac. He wanted to create the ultimate in hardcore fighter guys.
      Alignment? Chaotic Neutral. Most war gods are chaotic, except for what Rich referred to as "pansy paladin deities," whom another gamer friend, Steven Dashiell, once referred to as "Care Bears in Armor."
      "I want him to swing two bastard swords, too," Rich said, "I want this to be the mythical warrior who never lost a combat, who always survives the fight, and who beats the big nasty in single combat."
      "Okay," I said, "let's roll him up."

     Strength- 18 (+4). Good start. Strong. Good for a fighter.
      Dexterity- 17 (+3). Fast, too. And hard to hit.
      Constitution- 16 (+3). Tough. Lotsa hit points.
      Intelligence- 13 (+1). Smarter than the average bear.
      Wisdom- 13 (+1). Good. He's been around the block a couple times.
      Charisma- 11 (0). Okay, he's about average. "Looks don't win fights anyway," Rich grunts.
      Okay, so now he gets the maximum possible number of hit points, 10 plus his Constitution modifier of +3, for 13 total.
      Alright, next we give him some stats. Height- 6'4". Weight- 235. Built like a linebacker. Eyes- Blue. Hair-Brown.
      Religion- well, uh, ya see... he carries this coin, ok, and whenever he has to make a crucial decision, he flips the coin.
      And then he follows whatever whim strikes him at that particular instant. Like Rich said, he's chaotic neutral. VERY chaotic neutral.

     Rich rolls 6d4 for gold, and multiplies the total by 10. He gets a 21- Lyzander starts with 210 gp. That's pretty good. He'll need it to get two bastard swords and his equipment. (See His Level One page for all that stuff).

      Where's he from? How old is he? What's he all about? What's his sign?
      Ok, the current year is 1302 KR, and he's been retired for some time. So, let's set the campaign in 1265KR. Let's say he's 17 years old at that point- born in 1248 KR. Let's let him be a native of Feltash, a realm in the east, where he grew up thinking that things there were good under Graf Erwin Marcks (maybe an Int of 13 is 5 points too high...). Erwin Marcks is the father of Hans who will succeed him, but more on that later. He grew up as a pretty big boy, and it came in handy later on. He lied about his age at 14 (after running away from home- go figure) and joined the military. At 17 he deserted because he just couldn't remain in the service of someone as evil as that nation's ruler (ok, let him keep the 13 Int after all).
      Sooo, he found his way to southeastern Olmaron, after a harrowing solo journey through Oodmon, where he was imprisoned no less than three times within a week of crossing the border there- simply for wearing the livery of a Feltashian infantry corporal. Understandable, since relations between the elven realm of Oodmon and Marcks' nation have been rather... crappy... for two decades, when he overthrew the parliament in Feltash and took the throen as ruler for himself. But he didn't do anything. He even decided not to cut anybody up - either time - when the friggin' elves kept asking him what he was doing in the Laa Dee Da Land of the Elves.
      So, disgusted with this treatment by the indigenous Pests of Oodmon, he lived up to his alignment again- and after his third incarceration, he removed all his clothing except for his backpack, 50' of rope and two bastard swords (nope, not even a loincloth!) and finished his journey, only hearing the occasional titter from the trees as he passed through Oodmon's vast forests. The elves must have guessed him to be a lunatic (and they'd be close to right).
      Oh, yeah- he kept his boots. But that was it. No need getting sore feet if it can be helped. Oh, and his change purse. He kept that till he got within sight of the Olmarese border, then stopped by a human peasant farmer's hours in the middle of the night. Well, broke in and nearly collapsed the little hovel is more like it.
      The peasants were both home, a couple in their early 50s whose children had grown up and moved away- but Lyzander wasn't out for blood, booty, rapine, or anything like that- he was looking to buy some clothing, amazingly enough.
      It was his timing and method of expressing himself that sucked. For starters, since the peasants had a small lock on their door, and they didn't answer his knock, he had, just HAD, to break the door down, see. And then, go figure, the peasant dude living there is only 5'6" tall- so nothing he has fits Lyzander, except for a hat.
      Sooo, Lyzander offers the wife five gold pieces to sew him a couple of outfits, which she happily agrees to do, oblivious to the fact that she would have to cannibalize her own husband's clothing (about half his wardrobe) to make him two suitable outfits. Outfits, I'll add, that would look more like a jester's costume than clothes, since she had to patch together smaller pieces of clothing to make something that would fit a man built like a 1950 Chevy pickup.
      Well, Mrs. Hendricks (they got on rather well once the first awkward late-night introduction was taken care of) and Lyzander, and eventually Mr. Hendricks (but only after Lyzander stole a couple of sheep from a nearby farm to use for wool to replace his clothing) all got on well for about a month and a half.
      Then, Lyzander got on his way, and crossed the Elareth River into eastern Olmaron near the city of New Gharn. New Gharn got built after Old Gharn was destroyed by a particularly bad fire, which, ironically, was only put out by a rising flood tide in the spring of 1288 KR. The problem with that was that the flood tide brought a slew of diseases with it, and almost half the town died of one of a number of things- eating rotten fish, typhus, influenza, you name it. Old Gharn... good riddance.
      Anyway, Lyzander gets to New Gharn, and he's wearing something that makes him look like he made his clothing while intoxicated and doing pirouettes atop a burning outhouse (no, he doesn't exactly smell like a rose by now, either).
      But he finds himself a nice room in the Prince's Arms Boarding House, get himself some refreshments (and amazingly, doesn't overdo it!), buys a new horse, names the horse Dantil the Dense (after one of his less inspiringly intelligent sergeants in Feltash), a couple more outfits (he keeps the two funky-looking- and smelling- ones out of sentimentality), and gets his collective crap together.
      With a new breastplate, two newly-sharpened and oiled bastard swords, a horse to verbally abuse when he's alone and pissed off - and his usual comfy snarl set firmly upon his mug - he is ready to go looking for truth, fun and good eating.
      And that is where our story begins. Gods help us all...
Level One
Level Two
Level Three
Level Four
Level Five
Level Six
Level Seven
Level Eight
Level Nine
Level Ten
Level Eleven
Level Twelve
Level Thirteen
Level Fourteen
Level Fifteen
Level Sixteen
Level Seventeen
Level Eighteen
Level Nineteen
Level Twenty
Rogues Gallery

The World of Trinith

Templeton's Haven
UPDATED 5 MAY 2005 with his first-level info, equipment and stat block!