================================================================================
Fingle,
by jrah@space.honeywell.com (Jeff Hildebrand)

The first time I played, the DM had just started running though he had
been playing for quite a while.  He basically had a half dozen
dungeons that were in no campaign.  He used a best 3 of 4d6 stat game,
so I rolled s:  15, I:9, W:10, D:15, Co:15, Ch:  15, L:15.  His
suggestion was to play either a fighter or thief.  He made the comment
that with my luck and charisma, I could be a good Elven Thief, so
that's what I picked.  Thus was born Finagle (yes, I read Niven).
Well, I jumped from one DM's dungeon to another over about a year and
got him up to 3rd level with a magic bracer made of mithril when the
original DM decided to create a "Campaign" world.  He insisted that he
had to see the character rolled up.  When I walked up to the table, he
suggested I bring Finagle in, as that would give him at least one
character above 1st level.  Ok, I'll try this "Campaign" thing, sounds
cool.  Remember, until this time, I had only played "dungeon trashing"
with the idea that the one with the mostest wins.

Well, right away dwarves are trying to steal his mithril from him
(they don't think Elves are worthy of the metal in that world).
Finagle join the thieves guild and spends about a year game time being
your basic thief, skulking in alleys, gathering information, and
picking locks on shops.  Then I meet a player named Lou who was a real
gem and she suggested that we team up my Elven thief and her chaotic
Elven Cleric of Zeus (no, there was nothing between us but good
friendship, she was married and almost twice my age at the time).
With her to play off, I developed his personality and he became a
"fighter for freedom," breaking unjustly convicted people out of jail
and stealing back from the thieves guild things that they shouldn't
have stolen (in his opinion).  He was chaotic to a fault, frequently
trying things that no sane person would try just because it looked
like fun.  He never held onto money, too many sick or hungry people
who needed it more than he did.  He enjoyed things of beauty (jewelry
and magic items), so kept those, but would normally give money away.

When the Thieves guild stole a magic item from the church of Zeus,
Lou's character "Agnes" and my "Finagle" spent a month of adventures
getting it back.  The master thief put a 100,000 (a lot for this
world) gold price on his head, and I spent about a year of playing a
character running from assassins.  Luckily, he had a group of friends
who backed him up strongly.  The price slowly kept raising until it
reached a nice round million, if you added up all the sources (Thieves
Guild, Assassins Guild, the Law).  According to the DM, I managed to
kill off almost 1/5 of the assassins in the guild as the came at me
one-by-one...;-)

By the time he was 6th level, the name of Finagle had become quite
infamous, both the guilds and the law were out for him.  Our group had
turned over by that time, I and Lou were the only original ones still
hanging in the campaign, and we had a whole new group of players.  So,
I started playing him as a "novice fighter".  I kept changing his name
and disguising him for every adventure and the other players started
to have fun trying to figure out what I was.  I kept changing the name
to Fin<something>, Findale, Fingle, Finrod, Finarfin, ...  Being
involved with mostly computer types, I became known as "Fin.*".  He
was a "gem-trader," "herbalist," "fighter," and for a few games "a
paladin of Zeus" (all paladins in this world were Christians, Zeus was
too chaotic, threw lots of players for a real loop).  Eventually he
was granted a wish by Zeus and I decided to play the character as his
low (for that world) Int, and asked for "a life of freedom".  The DM
decided that Zeus was too good a guy to crock me and gave me what I
wanted, he cursed the head of the Thieves Guild that if Finagle died,
so did he.  And every head of the guild after that (as an aside, the
head of the Assassins was directly under the head of the Thieves, so
he could order the contract rescinded).  So, this elf (who would live
for 1000's of years) was free of any assassination or direct threat of
the guild.  The Law was taken care of because, though I didn't know
it, Agnes had a highly placed father and he got me a full pardon
because all the people I had freed from the jails were shown to be
innocent.  This didn't stop evil people from trying to take Finagle
out, but it took a lot of heat off.

By 9th level, he had become so well known, that when a prince of a far
off land was killed by a Lich, he asked for Divine Intervention for
revenge and Zeus made a deal with him:  A worshipper of Zeus got all
his lands if they killed the Lich.  So, one morning my elf wakes up
looking like a human and suddenly "night-blind".  We figured out why
by divinations and paying the Psychics Guild for info.  Finagle
wanders off to this kingdom picking up friends to help, and with the
Kings high mage (a Christian), the high Priest of Satan, the High Mage
of Satan, Agnes of Zeus, Thain of Christians, Mages from the Coven of
Diana, and an assortment of fighters and thieves, we eventually take
out all the undead (from zombies to Vampires) and get to the Lich.  He
casts fear, and guess what, I'm the only one at 9th level or better.
All the rest run away...  What ensued was a classic slug fest, every
time the Lich started a spell, I hit him.  Then I would wait until he
started again.  We went at it until the High mages cleared their heads
and cast a spell that cut off any access to the neg-plane in the area
and he dissipated.  I was a hero, got my body back as an elf, and was
offered the princesses hand in marriage, giving me all the prince's
land.  The fact that the princess was a Druid and had a strong feel
for the elven forest didn't hurt any.

Well, he told her he was probably going to take her up on the offer,
but he had acquired a couple of magic items and thought it important
that he do what he could to help the Elves win their war with the
Drow, so he told her to get as many longevity potions as she could,
and off he went to the Elven woods.  He wasn't quite so instrumental
in that battle, as the DM had it set up for MANY battles with many
games of different PC's.  We eventually won, but what Finagle had done
brought my name out again as a great warrior for Zeus.  This drew the
attention of "The Great Whitestone," an illusionist, and the Dragons.

First the Dragons:  A message appeared on an alter at a temple of
Zeus, "Finagle, go East".  Well, word reached me when he was in a port
on the eastern edge of the continent and he never questions directions
from God, so he got on a ship and went east.  He and 4 other PC's
ended up stranded on an island that was the home of the Pseudo
Dragons.  They wanted us to decide where they should place their power
in "the coming battle," which we knew nothing about.  Through a
sequence of weird role-playing tasks, the DM set us up to make choices
between Good, Evil, or Neutrality.  Finagle, of course, came out on
the side of Good and got to meet the Platinum Dragon.  All the rest
were miss-led by promises of riches and power and ended up with a
Neutral Red Dragon.  The Pseudo Dragons threw in with that Red, and
cast him out of their homeland.  That's when the Platinum decided
Finagle should be rescued from whatever plane they had thrown him
into.  He turned out to be a really nice guy and gave Finagle a magic
platinum ring, he could call on his help once.

As for the Illusionist:  After being sent back to the kingdom he met
Whitestone.  This elf and Finagle had very similar personalities.
They became good friends (he was an NPC) and had quite a few
adventures.  Most were the result of the two of them getting drunk
together and betting each other that they could or couldn't accomplish
something and then going off to do it.  Banish a Pit Fiend, wipe out a
Temple to Hecate, sink an Island of Ogre Magi...

Eventually, we managed to get the ultimate group together for the
final big game, as the DM was leaving town because his wife had got
her law degree and a job in New York.  He was going to close up his
world, and offered us the chance to play out the final battle with
Evil.  This was no melee, we had to waltz through alternate realities,
dispel hidden evil spells on the world, find artifacts of evil and
destroy them, all the stuff of great quests.  We succeeded and "The
Great Evil One" showed up and took all magical evil (beasts, gods,
minions, whatever) from the world and left it to us.  He said that
everyone had a right to choose to be evil, and that he wouldn't deny,
but that the world was ours to rule as we wished, good luck.

Well, he was 10th level, and bored as hell.  Anyone want to allow a
10th level Paladinic Thief of Zeus with a +2 long sword (which
believes it is a scimitar, go figure...), +2 ROP, Bracers of AC2
(Dwarven made), a ring of Pixie Invisibility (you don't go visible
when you attack, a great advantage over the 1st edition, before
Improved Invis), a ring of "Ask Platinum Dragon For Help" - one
charge, a potion of polymorph to Giant Eagle, an amulet of
non-detection, a cap of non-telepathy (so my mind couldn't be read)
and a Druid Princess into their world?  10 years he has sat on the
shelf waiting for just the right circumstances to come back to life.

(It should be recognized that the preceding was told from the point of
view of an elf with a very high opinion of himself, there were many
others involved at many points.  I remember Jeff Kessellman, John
Thompson, Tom Kalil, and "a cast of thousands" as the NPC's were
sometimes called in Gregg Schwartzkopf's world.  And Lou, if you are
out there in netland somewhere, drop me a line...)

================================================================================
Bruce the Spruce (by jrah@space.honeywell.com (Jeff Hildebrand)):  An
elven fighter, highest stat was an 11 strength.  He would bind
defeated opponents, have the clerics cure them or use his ever-full
"Coke Bottle of Healing" and talk philosophy of life.  But the player
would do so from the Int of 8, so he was pretty simplistic.  His other
magic item was a never ending spool of rope.  The player figured that
he would think long and hard about any magic the party found and by
the time he got around to saying what he thought, he got the dregs
because the other players decided since he hadn't spoken up, he didn't
mind what they took.

Enos the Chaotic Druid (by jrah@space.honeywell.com (Jeff
Hildebrand)):  Sure druids are supposed to be true neutral.  He
figured he was helping balance out the lawfulness of our party by
being a Chaotic Neutral when he was with us.  Absolute wacko, we spent
more time laughing when gaming with that group than fighting monsters.

Seelsa the Healer (by jrah@space.honeywell.com (Jeff Hildebrand)):
Likes to wander around and find interesting people to talk to.
Enjoyed finding the castle of Christian Paladins, introducing herself
(worshipper of a "pagan" goddess) and talk philosophy.  Spends lots of
time healing peasants and trying to get the party to stop solving
their problems with combat.  Found a kindred spirit in her horse and
talks to her when she has the chance.  Likes planting trees in areas
where the land has been damaged and trying to "cure the ills" of the
land.

Mandrid the Fire Mage (by jrah@space.honeywell.com (Jeff Hildebrand)):
Usually that would have to be a power player.  This guy doesn't care
if his spells do effective stuff so much as whether they make really
bright and loud fire.  Just lots of fire.  An absolute pyro.  Gets mad
and pouts if the party doesn't let him start the camp fire at night.
He'll put it out during his watch just so he can start it again.  If
he finds a new material, his first reaction is to try to make it burn.
He loves to be out in the wilderness far from any civilization so that
he can do a fireworks spell, it pleases him to know he's the one who
did it there first (even if the party is now pissed because he gave
their position away to every monster within 20 miles).

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KINGRIN,
by reaux@sequoia.cs.vt.edu (Ray A Reaux)

Kingrin is a Red Shirt, a uniform policeman in the sprawling city of
Thurdis.  The street patrolers of Thurdis are called Red Shirts
because of the scarlet red shirt they wear as the uniform of their
office.  Kingrin's beat is the Knifer's District, the seething
cesspool of malcontents, criminals, and destitutes.  It is also the
deadliest and worst assignment for a city guardsman, and the city
police force generally put their screw ups and the career dead-enders
in this precinct.  The mean life expectancy of a Red Shirt in the
Knifer's District is three years.  Kingrin has been there for seven.

Kingrin always wanted to be a cop.  His father had been a cop, and his
grandfather before him had been a cop, so it was only natural that he
enlisted when he reached 16 years old, the earliest legal enlistment
age, even though his mother strongly objected.  It didn't matter to
him that when he was just seven, his father had died in a dark alley,
victim of a thief's blade.  His father had served only eight years as
a Red Shirt.  His grandfather who actually provided Kingrin with a
father role model instilled in him a fierce sense of duty and regard
for family "tradition."  No matter the hazard, he would be a Red
Shirt.

Kingrin was a good cop.  His native intelligence, determination and
drive earned him quick advancement.  His natural aptitude with a blade
and his dedication to training brought him through several dangerous
encounters with the criminal underclass with only minor scars, but
with some noteworthy arrests.  Within four years, he had made
lieutenant and earned a position on the Criminal Investigation Squad
(CIS).  Then he was given the Copper Run Fagian Corpses Case.  It
seemed that a series of particularly gruesome murders were taking
place in the Copper Run District, a poorer section of Thurdis
populated primarily by craftsmen and tradesmen.  Children were winding
up missing, only to reappear several days later floating in the city's
canalways.  Kingrin was brought into the case after the fourth victim,
the seven year old son of a candle maker, was found.  In all cases,
the corpses of the children had swollen and bruised wrists, and fresh
welts and whip marks on their backs.  Kingrin suspected sexual abuse.
He was up against one sick puppy.

Serious detective work eventually led Kingrin to the perpetrator, the
perverted son of a city senator.  Realizing that he needed very strong
evidence, Kingrin shadowed the senator's son for a full week before he
caught him in the act of abducting another child, the eight victim.
However, in the confrontation and ensuing struggle, Kingrin killed the
perpetrator in self-defense.  The senator, furious at the death of his
son, used his considerable political clout to dead-end Kingrin's
career.  The evidence that Kingrin had compiled against his son
disappeared from the precinct vaults and the family of the child he
had saved from kidnapping, only witness that could corroborate his
story also disappeared, and neither Kingrin or the Red Shirts could
find the coachman who had been the son's accomplice.  The senator had
bought their silence.  In fact, charges of misuse of office were
brought up against Kingrin, and although his friends could shield him
from a criminal conviction, they could not shield him from a serious
reprimand, a demotion, and reassignment to the Knifer's District.

Almost daily, Kingrin wonders why he doesn't quit the Red Shirts, but
his stubborn pride and his sense of duty keeps him going.  He has also
come to realize that the people, particularly the poor and the
destitude in the Knifer's District also need the protection of the law
and justice.  However, his outlook has matured considerably, and he is
more concerned with justice than the letter of the law.  Crime is
rampant in the Knifer's District, and the Red Shirts are over-worked,
although in most cases, they are more concerned about staying alive
than enforcing the law.  Most of them accept bribes, their meager pay
being inadequate to support them.  Although Kingrin also accepts
bribes, he is constantly playing on the razor's edge of his honor.  So
far, he only accepts bribes for overlooking violations of small laws,
such as ale smuggling by guild-independent tavern keepers, but more
serious crimes, he pursues with vigor.  He never accepts bribes such
that his pay plus his bribes total more than what he thinks he should
be earning, the wages of a Red Shirt lieutenant.

Kingrin will normally be encountered walking his beat, usually from
midnight to noon.  However, he has survived for many years by not
being predictable, that is, he does not follow any set patrol path.
He is good with a sword (mid-level warrior specialized with
shortsword), but generally tries to talk his way through conflicts.
If he sees a petty crime, he will ignore it since he reserves his
concerns for major crimes.  He is a fairly good detective and likes
the intellectual challenge of a mystery.  He comes across as an
educated man, although much of his knowledge is self-taught.  He has
an average build and appearance, and his most noticeable feature is
his intelligent blue eyes and a purple burn scar about the size of a
gold coin on his neck, a souvenir from the senator's son who had a
ring of shooting stars.  Kingrin currently has the ring, although he
does not wear it openly because of the possibility of the senator's
retribution.  Kingrin also has an enchanted dagger, a weapon that has
saved his life several times, especially when he had to battle the
tunnel dweller, a particularly nasty wererat ghoul that dwelled in the
city sewers.

I have used Kingrin as an interface with the law, or at least one of
the interfaces with the law, the other being Elcater, a crooked Red
Shirt who is the opposite of Kingrin.  If players leave too many dead
bodies behind, even in the Knifer's District, local constabulary will
get involved.  If the PCs try, they can make an allie, however, they
can also make an enemy if they are less than truthful and Kingrin
senses this.

Kingrin has powerful enemies, for instance the senator, and I have
used them as plot devices.  In one series of games, I had the PCs
uncover a plot by the overly ambitious senator to take over the
Cordbarrel Run, a major section on the edge of the Knifer's District's
that wasn't quite so run-down.  The senator was enlisting the aid of a
gang of thugs to encourage the poor, but still working citizens of the
neighborhood to sell their homes, which the senator, bought the deeds
to using a series of false names.  At the same time, he was
introducing legislation in the senate for a new games arena.  The
senator had ideas of building the arena in Cordbarrel Run.  Since the
PCs were newcomers to the region, Kingrin suspected them.  The PCs had
to convince him that they were not gang members, and eventually defeat
the gang, and try to dig up evidence against the senator.  Using his
political connections and judicious assassination of people who could
embarrass him, such as the gang leader who knew of his involvement and
who had bungled the job, the senator could hide much of his tracks.
He eventually became a serious antagonist for the PCs, until they
eventually acquired enough political clout of their own and enough
evidence to put the senator away.

================================================================================
Stai Silvant,
by dubois@esd.kodak.com (Scooby)

Gray Elf, Thief(13)/Mage(11), CN

Stai is a impatient elf.  Even though he has many years to live, the
power he wants to get, he wants now!  An adventure at trade, he
explores the worlds(spelljammer) attempting to collect things of
power.  His temper is very short which usually gets him in trouble
that his friends needs to usually help him out.  He rarly thinks
things through.  This could be because he was an orphan as a child and
grew up amoung humans.

When he sets his eyes on a goal, he trys his best to get that goal,
using whatever is at his means.  Usually after two (maybe three)
unsuccessful attempts, he will give up and search out a new goal.
Knowing that later he may find a better way to go back and try again.

His worst enemies are witches.  He was once capture by a several
witches, that he eventually escaped from, but had sadly lost all
possesions at the time.  Now whenever he encounters, or hears about a
witch he usually asks questions later.  This is hard because many
times witches are indistinguishable from mages, thus many times they
get away unharmed.

His second worst enemy are effreeti.  When visiting the Brass city on
the plane of fire (he was with a paladin who was a friend of the Grand
Sulton of Effreeti) he insulted (by accident) the Grand Sulton who
quickly conjoured up a bottle, and placed stai in it.  Thus he has
since been a victem like all Gene, in that he lives in a bottle.  He
cannot grant wishes, but who ever is in control of the bottle can make
him enter or leave at their will.  Thus he guards the bottle closely.
He does not kill effreeti on sight, but will not help them either.

================================================================================
Irongrip and Zither,
by smah@csu.murdoch.edu.au (Seng Ann Mah)

Irongrip and Zither are a pair of unlikely travelling companions and
oft times adventurers for hire.  'Grip (as he is more commonly known)
is a half-ogre, though more ogrish than human; and Zither is a sprite,
one of the mysterious fey-folk.

Since his childhood, Irongrip knew that he was different from the
other ogre children on his clan.  Though his mother, a fierce ogre
matriach, swore that his father was a true ogre warrior, the plain
truth was that 'Grip's human heritage came from a particularly
undiscerning human mercenary who had bedded his mother during the
Sassharan Wars 28 years ago.  Because of this, 'Grip had always lived
with the stigma that he wasn't a true ogre, and that he did not belong
with the tribe.  As a pariah, he was reviled and made to do drudge
work as a thrall.  Even his own mother bore true ogre children after
him and disowned him soonafter.  Years of hard, menial labour made him
bitter and strong.  Finally, unable to take the humiliation and
slave-like conditions anymore, he left his tribe.  His escape was
short-lived for he was soon captured by a band of human brigands and
sold to a particularly unscrupulous fight fixer who turned him into a
pit-fighter.  'Grip's great size and strength made a him a natural
fighter and though he hated his master, he believed that he had
finally found a place and position in the world.

One day, 'Grip's cruel owner showed him a remarkable creature in a
gilded cage.  The man called the being a "sprite" and told 'Grip that
he had bought the creature from someone who claimed to have caught it
in the fey forests far to the north-east.  'Grip was drawn to the
marvellous creatures, so frail and yet so beautiful, so much so that
he swore that it should not languish within the gilded confines of the
cage.  While his master slept, 'Grip stole the cage and set the sprite
free.  Thinking that that was that, and that he would face his
punishment the next day as a warrior, 'Grip was surprised when the
sprite spoke to him.  Introducing herself as Zitherinn, the tiny fey
woman persuaded 'Grip to flee with her, promising that she would find
a way to repay his kind deed.

Having escaped, both hulking half-ogre and delicate sprite made their
way south, crossing the treacherous moorlands, until they found
themselves in the Heartland kingdoms where they decided to ply their
trade a freelance adventurers (not mercenaries!)  if the cause (and
sometimes, the price) was right.  They seldom find employment, for not
many good folk are keen to approach the half-ogre and those who do so
usually make arrangements through Zither.  As is often the case, 'Grip
and Zither perform fairly mundane duties:  guarding goods, escorting
personages from point A to B, or recovering stolen or missing items
where the sprite's stealth and innate magic and the half-ogre's
strength and skill with the broadaxe come in most useful.

'Grip can be often found in taverns, dives and other places of
potential employment.  If she is with him, Zither will remain
invisible, but will float nearby in case trouble arises.  She will
also flit about the place, listening for rumours and any information
which could come in useful and report these to 'Grip (whispering,
while invisible, in his ear).

Physically, 'Grip is an imposing figure.  He stands nearly 7.5 feet
tall and weighs over 400 pounds of solid muscle.  He wears a pair of
close-fitting breeches and leather boots, and a bauldric strapped
across his bare chest from which hang (on his back) his large
two-handed broadaxe.  His features are cleary ogrish and a thick mane
of black wiry hair sprouts from his head.  Zither, when she is
visible, appears to be a tiny, elegant elf-woman, with iridiscent
wings and two delicate antennae springing from her forehead.  She
wears no clothing, instead, folding her wings modestly across her body
when she is in polite company.

Use of NPCs
^^^^^^^^^^^
Both 'Grip and Zither make interesting opponents for PCs, combining
both brute strength, stealth and magic in two individuals.  Neither of
them will fight to the death, preferring to retreat.  If it seems that
'Grip is in trouble in a fight, Zither will use her innate magic to
help him out of a fix.  Conversely, both 'Grip and Zither make staunch
allies.  Zither could approach the PCs (particularly if there is a
druid or ranger PC in the group) asking for help in locating her
missing friend, 'Grip, who might have been taken by a gang of slavers.
PCs might get quite a pleasant surprise once they discover who the
sprite's friend actually is!

AD&D information:  I would suggest that DMs treat 'Grip as a half-ogre
warrior using a variation of the rules suggested in the Humanoid's
Handbook.  He would bemid-level (about 5th or 6th) with a _very_ high
Str and Con, low intelligence and Cha, and pretty average scores
elsewhere.  Zither is a typical sprite with all associated abilities.