, I put together an infinitely fun and nerdy Dungeons & Dragons game for the "Battle Party." Since literally half the party had never played before, and some I don't think can even properly roll a die, I wanted to streamline things a bit. This took a lot of planning. First, I thought of the story, which I'll put below. Then I made the characters. This was easier than you'd think. One of the groomsmen is into DnD more than the others, so I made him the cleric. The others, I made two heavy armored "tanks," two crossbow wielding "scouts," and the rest were 2-handed weapon fighters. Using a
found online, it was easy to make the template characters and just fill in the details. With the exception of the cleric, whose spells were already chosen for the day and written out, everyone was a basic level 8 fighter, with different feats based on what they used. I made a spreadsheet with everyone's important stats, like attack and damage, AC (armor class), and the like. Each player had only the dice they needed for their character. Then, when it's time to play, the player just told me what they wanted to do, and I said "Ok, roll the dice and tell me what it says." Then I would check their dice roll against the spreadsheet, and describe what happened. It made for a much faster game with less "learning curve" and allowed their choices and roll-playing to shine through rather than getting bogged down in rules. My example spreadsheet is below.
The 8th bell of the morning tolled, as the group slowly roused
itself from a deep, if a bit loud, slumber. Today was the day, the occasion for
a party last night, and the reason for the collective headache the seven men
felt this morning. Seven hardy dwarfs, in various stages of dress and coherency,
slowly got to their feet, washing faces in basins, eating the leftover food
from the festivities of the previous night, and enjoying a little hair of the
dog to take the edge off; even dwarfs have their limits after all. Today was
the day that Sergeant Snookums would wed the love of his life. He was ready.
Looking around the room, Snookums saw the men he trusted most in
the world. Frank the Tank and Dakken: heavy men with heavy shields, they were
entrusted to guard the life of the groom. The inseparable lovers Ginger
Princess and Chocolate Thunder: brothers to the end, their long hammers could
often be heard pounding the staves of the mining tracks they constructed in the
neighboring tunnels near the town. The scouts, Leviathon and Claytoris: lithe
for dwarfs and masters of the crossbow. He could think of no better men to
escort him down the alter.
Other than muted grumbles at this early hour, Snookums was the
first to speak. "Brothers, the time has arrived. Let us go and fetch my
bride." With grins, nods, and a few uncouth jibes, the group was off.
Moments later, the bride's house was in view, but something was off. The door
to the house was askew, and there could be seen a few articles of clothing
scattered in front. Claytoris, and Leviathon, keen of eye, saw the disturbance
first, and rushed into the house, crossbows out, while the others waited
outside. Returning, Claytoris gave his report, "Snookums, I'm afraid she
is taken. There are signs of a struggle, and I smell the stink of goblin, as
well as orc. I saw no blood, so I believe she was taken unharmed."
Sergeant Snookums fumed with a burning rage. "They will be
lucky if she is unharmed, but it will not spare them their lives for
this." He looked at his friends, "Come, let's get the Captain and
find her. We have a wedding to attend!"
In the center of the town of Wilmingheim lies the great forge.
Here the clerics of Torag, Master Smith of all things, worship and create. It is
here they found Captain Bamba hard at work at the forge. Each beat of the
hammer and quench of the metal a prayer to the Father of the Dwarven race. He
noticed their approach, and wiped his large hands on his leather apron,
"Good morrow, lads. You are earlier than I expected! Anxious to get
to it, eh?" It was then that he noticed their grim expressions.
"What's wrong?" As he was told what they had seen, his normally
gentle expression changed. There is a saying among scholars: There are
three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the
anger of a gentle man. Captain Bamba nodded, "I heard there have been
signs of orcs and goblins in the caves east of here. They are likely that way.
Gather your weapons, men, and meet me at the Bride's home. We begin our search there."
It did not take them long to find the trail. The scouts taking the
lead, they made good time. Dwarfs see perfectly well in the darkness, so there
was no need for torch or lamp to light their way. Goblins are disgusting
wretches, even as far as the evils of the Underdark go, and they all but leave
a trail of filth where they go. After nearly a bell, Leviathan motioned for a
halt, and silence. He and Claytoris climbed a small rise ahead of them and saw
what they had come for: two goblin sentries guarding the mouth of a cave ahead.
They looked at each other for a brief moment, nodded, and raised their
crossbows. In unison, two bolts streaked through the air. One found purchase in
the throat of the goblin to the left, a slight gurgle the only sound that ever
came from the creature. The second went through the leg of the other, pinning
it solidly to the ground. Before a fully formed word could escape its lips,
Ginger Princess had covered the distance with noteworthy speed and grabbed the
goblin, stifling it's cries and holding it fast.
"You would do well to tell us where they took the
woman," Claytoris said to the creature in its own language. The others
approached cautiously. When it stopped struggling, Claytoris nodded to Ginger
Princess.
Ginger Princess slowly removed the massive mitt covering most of
the goblin's small features. "You are too late, dwarf! Your female is
already a sacrifice to the Blood God!" The goblin hissed his words in the
common tongue, so as to be understood by all. A defiant look on its face, the
goblin squeaked as Ginger Princess snapped its neck and allowed it to
unceremoniously drop to the dirt. The cleric, Captain Bamba, emerged from the
cave, "They definitely went this way. Come, we must make
haste!"
The sight that awaited them was ghastly to behold. A full two
score orcs and goblins milled about a large central cavern. Ramshackle
buildings dotted the clearing, where goblins with short bows patrolled the
roofs. Dominating the open area in the middle was a stage, and this was where
all eyes of friend and foe alike were currently fixed. On the stage was
Snookum's beautiful bride, being roughly tied to a stake by two large
creatures: Cave Giants.
The battle party was outnumbered by nearly four to one. Still
unseen, the group quietly put their heads together and began to work out a
plan. Frank the Tank spoke first "Those archers will be a nuisance. Dakken
and I can move up, using our shields for cover. Claytoris and Leviathon can
follow closely behind and pick them off before we enter the fray." The
scouts nodded. "Chocolate Thunder, you and Ginger go—"
As the others talk strategy, Sergeant Snookums's anger grew to a
burning rage at the sight of his love burnished to a stake, and ignoring the
talk behind him, he charged in, both his longaxe and voice raised in terrible
violence. He crossed the distance to the nearest orc in a half-dozen
heartbeats, and cut down the first orc in the group of onlookers before any of
them had a chance to realize what was happening.
Captain Bamba swore. "The damn fool is going to get himself
killed! No time for strategy! Go! Unto glory!" The cleric marched
forward calmly, and saying a prayer, called upon his god, the master forger of
all things. There was a rush of power, as warm as any forge fire, that came
from seemingly nowhere and smote a dozen of the evil creatures in one fell
swoop of holy magics. The cleric looked over his shoulder, "What are you
waiting for? GO!"
Any other creature laden with as much armor and steel as Frank the
Tank would be slow and cumbersome, but the Dwarfs are a sturdy people, and he
pushed forward in a blur, unencumbered by his burden as he was. Frank rushed
past Sergeant Snookums, bounding over the lifeless body of the bifurcated orc.
Slamming his tower shield onto the ground in front of him, he secured one side
of the front against goblins, orcs, and the 2 Cave Giants. When a shield-bearer
of Wilmingheim settles into position, they are as immovable as the mountain
itself.
Leviathon and Calytoris begin firing at the goblins on the
rooftops, the superior engineering of their repeating crossbows needed to be
reloaded after five shots instead of simply one. They were able to make short
work of the archers on their side of the field. They nodded to Ginger Princess
and Chocolate Thunder, who began to circle around a large boulder, and approach
the fray from the side. At the same time, Dakken moved to finish the wall that
Frank the Tank had started. Halfway to the front, however, he was intercepted
by an orc berserker, who all but threw itself wildly against Dakken's mighty
shield, but still managed to temporarily halt his progress.
Battle raged on all sides. For every enemy that was cut down, two
more seemed to take their place. It took only mere heartbeats before the cave
giants roared and entered the fight, flinging the small goblins aside as they
lumbered forward, huge battle axes in hand. The closest one bellowed and put
all his weight behind a swing intended to cripple Frank the Tank, but his
shield arm held, and his low center of gravity and stout armor kept him fast.
Frank was acting as a wall that not even three meters of solid muscle and hate
could dislodge.
The twin hammers of Chocolate Thunder and Ginger Princess crushed
all that stood before them. They fought back-to-back, and they moved as if
using a single mind, blocking blows and countering with powerful strikes of
their own.
The sounds of battle were quite loud, and quickly drew
reinforcements from the orcs and goblins. Now three score enemies stood between
the party and their prize, coming from different directions. Several spotted
Leviathon and Claytoris, lingering on the outskirts of the battle, firing into
the melee. Thinking them an easy target, several orcs and goblins rushed to
attack their position. Leviathon was the closest, and got off another shot
before he dropped his crossbow and turned to face his assailants. The scouts of
Wilmingheim are famed for their marksmanship, and for the throwing axes they
wield, regardless of range. Leviathon drew his axes and let one fly through the
air, landing with a smack in the thick forehead of one charging orc. The other
ax parried an incoming blow, knocking that orc off balance and making it a
perfect target for Claytoris' deadly crossbow. The thrum of the bow’s release
was the last thing the enemy heard.
Inside the press of bodies, Dakken and Frank the Tank held fast. Their
shields locked, arrows, javelins, and blades seemed to bounce harmlessly off
them. Attempting to keep them at bay, Frank the Tank struck out at the cave
giant, still attempting to break his defense. The cave giant, showing
surprising speed, dodged the attack at the last second, leaving Frank's War axe
embedded in the rocky ground. Frank cursed, taking one step back to close a
small gap between himself and Dakken, and drew his short sword, ready to
continue the fight. It was at this moment that the first major milestone
towards victory was gleaned. The cave giant, growing frustrated with the
impregnable defense of Frank and Dakken, attempted to circumvent them. The
giant made its way carefully around their bristling shields, but he was not
careful enough. Seeing an opportunity, Frank the Tank and Sergeant Snookums
both lashed out at the creature, striking killing blows on the beast.
Holding one entire side of the battlefield by themselves, the twin
furies of Chocolate Thunder and Ginger Princess somehow cleared the field.
Chests heaving, sweat and gore dripping, they were very nearly spent, such was
the climax of their battle. They locked eyes for a long moment. For a time, all
was still save the pounding of their hearts. No, not their hearts; the sound of
steel on steel and the din of battle was still in the air. They nodded at each
other and, smiling, charged towards glory.
Several times during the fighting, a dwarf was wounded, and seemed
nearly unable to continue. Fearing the loss of a brother, when the need was
greatest Captain Bamba would call on the healing powers of his, and their, god.
The fighters would feel as if they were hot steel quickly quenched in cold
water. This tempered them as solidly as steel, staunching their wounds, and
bringing them back to fighting strength.
Chocolate Thunder and Ginger had rejoined the battle, though on
opposite sides of the shield wall. Ginger Princess ran to aid Sergeant
Snookums, who was flanked by the large corpse of the giant on one side, and was
quickly getting walled in by foes on the other. Taking them from behind, Ginger
Princess was able to easily finish off his foes, smashing them with his
longhammer. Chocolate Thunder, in a moment of profound bravery, or perhaps a
foolishness beyond all mortal ken, charged the remaining cave giant, still held
at bay by the shield wall. He cut quite an impressive figure in that moment: barely
a quarter of the height of his looming foe, barrel-chested and dripping, he
struck with all his might, and was cast aside by the giant's wicked battle
axe. Ginger Princess cried out, as if he too were wounded.
Splayed open for all to see, wounded beyond belief, Chocolate
Thunder rose to a knee, and then to his feet. For the second time this day,
everything seemed to stop around him. The cave giant eyed him quizzically, as
surely it thought him dead. From deep within himself, Chocolate Thunder lived
up to his name, and bellowed his defiance at the creature. Raising his hammer,
and bringing his full power down on the giant's lower body, it was impossible
to tell if it was his weapon or his voice, but the cavern shook with his
release.
The giant was knocked to the ground, pelvis shattered by the
impact. Captain Bamba, from across the field, had seen the damage done to
Chocolate Thunder, and began rushing to heal him. However, seeing an opening,
and a chance to end this, the Captain rushed forward with a different purpose.
Reaching the downed, but not dead, creature, Captain Bamba asked for the aid of
his patron deity one last time, and channeled the almighty power of Torag
through his warhammer. As the creature struggled to stand, to fight on, the
Captain raised his hammer. Bringing it down one final time, the sound of a
smith's hammer striking an anvil was heard, and the cave giant went limp with
the blow. The cacophony of battle ebbed in that moment, the only sounds left
were the scrabbling of the handful of remaining goblin archers as they fled
into the darkness.
As the rest of the party began seeing to wounds and dispatching
any enemies still clinging to life, Sergeant Snookums alighted the platform.
His goal, his bride, was unharmed. He cut her bonds, and they embraced. He
kissed her softly. If she was discomfited by the gore in his beard, she made no
sign, so deep was her joy and relief at holding him once more. Snookums, still
clutching his love, turned to his compatriots and let out a triumphant cheer.
The others followed suit. "Captain Bamba," he exclaimed, "the
thought of waiting one more second to wed this lass is unbearable to me. If
she'll allow, I would have you perform the ceremony now!" Those around him
all agreed, and so it was. Captain Bamba performed all the nuptial rights of
his office, and it was official. The others bore witness to their betrothal,
amid many cheers, and tears, and jibes. Once finished, the group made their
tired way back to town.
It was barely midday by the time the group returned to Wilmingheim,
and they were treated as heroes. Long were the celebrations of the townsfolk
and the feasting that day. The group washed and reveled, and when they were
satiated, the couple made their way to their betrothal suite, where they were
barred together with naught but each other’s company. The townsfolk brought
them food and mead, made from the honey of the bees just outside their mountain
home. There the couple would remain for the span of a month. At the end of
their "honey moon" the new couple emerged, and they lived long in
their love.
I have always wanted to go to a big fair. I love the bright lights and terrible food. Fair food has always teetered on the line between genius and insanity, and I gotta respect that. Should we fry everything? Definitely not, but goddammit we're gonna try! I'm also severely distracted by bright lights and I have a tendency to wander away towards whatever is shiniest. In theory, a fair should be amazing for me but I should really be on an adult version of a child leash because of the ADD-fat-kid that I am deep in my soul. 
It was dark by this point, and the teenagers had come out of the woodwork. While in line for the neato-spinning-super-fun-ride whatever, Edd and Madz visibly aged. Edd had time to use the restroom, which was a bit of a hike, and return before the line moved once. Rob and I were able to get food.... twice. This didn't even make a dent in their wait. Literally an hour later, they were at the part of the line that actually had a roped off queue: the home stretch. Edd, being a giant chicken, and now too old to ride the ride, had decided sit it out, even though he'd waited his whole life just to get this far. It was tragic. With Madz in charge, no less than a half-dozen tweens cut in line in front of her. Being Canadian, she was too forgiving. From start to finish, the ride lasted 1 hour, 36 minutes, and 15 seconds. 1:15 of that involved Madz strapped in a chair being spun in the air. You do the math.
We loaded into the bucket, immediately realizing that we are all a big taller than the average rider. We were a bit cramped sharing our space, but the gravity of the situation didn't hit until we began to move. The Ferris wheel creaked and swung as we were lifted in the air, giving us much more of an adrenaline rush than I think the designers had originally intended. During the ride, we all recovered quickly, except for Rob, who was white-knuckled and pale-faced, clinging to the center pole for dear life. Edd laughed at Rob the whole time, while remaining as motionless as possible. Nobody was allowed to move, for fear the motion would pitch us all to our deaths, or so Rob thought. Eventually the ride ended, as most rides do, and Rob fled from the bucket leaving a puff of smoke behind him.
