Serg_BlackStrider
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@Alesia_BH : Nice to see you here! The place is cosy and warm, I hope you'll like it as I do 
Baldur's Gate Trilogy No Reloads Run
- Thread starter WiseGrimwald
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Alesia_BH
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It's good to see you here too. And I like it already
Do feel free to cross post your Avatars here, Serg. It may help get some inertia going in this forum. I'll happily share my post on the history of the Avatars, if you do decide to post here.
(No pressure, though. I understand that it's extra work)
Best,
A.
Do feel free to cross post your Avatars here, Serg. It may help get some inertia going in this forum. I'll happily share my post on the history of the Avatars, if you do decide to post here.
(No pressure, though. I understand that it's extra work)
Best,
A.
Serg_BlackStrider
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No problems with extra work since I'm writing my game progress in notepad along the way and it's just a matter of copy/paste from there (and inserting some pics). I'll do it
The slight 'problem' is that I have too many games running at the same time (BGT Trilogy NR with Avatars, Pathfinder: Kingmaker at Challenging/Last Azlanti Mode with Sylvan Sorcerer, Pillars of Eternity Saga at Triple Crown with Cipher and Divinity: Original Sin 2 Definitive Edition at Honour/Tactician Mode with Wizard Beast). All those are huge games and I don't have too much time to play now unfortunately. And considering my general approach to gaming I don't expect to post my updates too often and not sure if those will help much to 'get some inertia going in this forum'. But every bit help, I guess
The slight 'problem' is that I have too many games running at the same time (BGT Trilogy NR with Avatars, Pathfinder: Kingmaker at Challenging/Last Azlanti Mode with Sylvan Sorcerer, Pillars of Eternity Saga at Triple Crown with Cipher and Divinity: Original Sin 2 Definitive Edition at Honour/Tactician Mode with Wizard Beast). All those are huge games and I don't have too much time to play now unfortunately. And considering my general approach to gaming I don't expect to post my updates too often and not sure if those will help much to 'get some inertia going in this forum'. But every bit help, I guess
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Urdnot_Wrex
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Inertia or not, infrequent or not, I would love to read about that!
And welcome Alesia with your Amara here, I hope she doesn't get killed by her inventory
.
Serg_BlackStrider
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Thanks! I am sorry for misleading you - it's 'Divinity: Original Sin 2 Definitive Edition at Honour/Tactician Mode with Wizard Beast' I'm running now and I'm already at the final stages of Chapter 2 (Fort Joy) without taking any notes or screenshots. Maybe I'll be able to recall/reconstruct my progress up to the current state, but since it wasn’t originally intended it could be quite difficult...
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A great background story for Amara, and a nice personal item. Looking forward to her adventure! 
Serg, it's ok if you don't post frequently or regularly, just an occasional post with thoughts on tactics / another aspect of any game / a moment of interest would be cool, no matter the game. It's great y'all find the place cozy.
Serg, it's ok if you don't post frequently or regularly, just an occasional post with thoughts on tactics / another aspect of any game / a moment of interest would be cool, no matter the game. It's great y'all find the place cozy.
Alesia_BH
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And welcome Alesia with your Amara here, I hope she doesn't get killed by her inventory
Thanks! I'll try my best, lol.
(And in case it wasn't clear what happened there, Ayla arrived at Brynnlaw with her inventory completely full. To make room for the wardstone, I left the Shield of Balduran on the bar at the tavern. Ayla then made her way to the asylum, crossing the bridge and opening the door. When the door opened, I heard the key opening sound and the wardstone disappeared. I thought that meant Ayla had no further need for the wardstone, as it typically does. I thought nothing of it when I sent Ayla back to the tavern to pick up her shield. Alas, there is one exception to the general rule: Spellhold. If you cross the bridge without the wardstone, you are pertrified without a save by an undetectable trap. As I now know, that also applies in the reverse direction, after the wardstone has disappeared. C'est la vie, or rather, c'est la morte.)
Urdnot_Wrex
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Done!
Tough luck about that wardstone issue... And yeah inventory management sucks, which is why I listened to advice from a friend and started using a Bag of Holding for minimal or no-reload attempts. Not to abuse it for collecting 200 ankheg shells, but to avoid situations where you have to decide to throw away a unique item or leave armour or weapons behind in case you have to carry someone to be raised at the temple etc...
Swashbuckler is an interesting choice... is the to-hit bonus they get enough to compensate for a thief's lousy Thac0? It looks like one of those classes that start to shine in HLA area only...
@Serg_BlackStrider I fully agree with Antimatter, any post about any game would be welcome, and even if you start right in the middle of it. I first finished Divinity:Original Sin 2 on Tactician last year (with many reloads though) and would be greatly interested to read about a few tactics you used in honour mode or just some snippets. No pressure though.
Alesia_BH
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Thanks for sharing the link, Urdnot Wrex. That's awesome!
And in response to your comments:
On introducing bags of holding. Makes sense! And I respect that approach. I've done the same in the past. In BG1 I used to put a bag of holding in Davaeorn's quarters. I've also tried winter wolf bags as a middle ground. In BG2 I've put them in Chateau Irenicus or Watcher's Keep. It did make life easier, but I ended up moving away from that approach because I felt it was unbalancing, in my case. The size of one's inventory is tactically relevant, as is the weight limit. I appreciate the choices those constraint force me to make, even if they can be a pain in the tuckus.
(As for Ayla, she definitely -definitely- would have preferred to have a bag, given the way things turned out...)
On swashbucklers. I didn't pick the kit on power grounds, more like the lack thereof. Ayla was an unkitted thief and her backstabbing abilities trivialized most of the adventure. Her run was less interesting that it could have been on that account. I chose a swashbuckler because I enjoy rogues, but didn't want to be tempted to just backstab everything. Amara's tactics will be more diverse. I'm looking forward to that.
As for power, low level swashbucklers aren't great, comparatively speaking. There are more powerful characters- including the simple unassuming unkitted thief, among many other. I'm sure Amara is capable of getting through the adventure, though, and that's all I care about. She's fun and she's powerful enough. That's what matters to me.
(In general, I don't pick classes and kits based on power. I usually build characters by looking at portraits first. When I find one that strikes my fancy, I imagine what their class/kit would be. I build them up from there. I've played all sorts of characters in the challenge over the years. My successes have been with a sorcerer, a jester, a mage/thief, a fighter/mage and a barbarian, which is a good mix. It would be nice to add a single class thief to the list.)
And in response to your comments:
On introducing bags of holding. Makes sense! And I respect that approach. I've done the same in the past. In BG1 I used to put a bag of holding in Davaeorn's quarters. I've also tried winter wolf bags as a middle ground. In BG2 I've put them in Chateau Irenicus or Watcher's Keep. It did make life easier, but I ended up moving away from that approach because I felt it was unbalancing, in my case. The size of one's inventory is tactically relevant, as is the weight limit. I appreciate the choices those constraint force me to make, even if they can be a pain in the tuckus.
(As for Ayla, she definitely -definitely- would have preferred to have a bag, given the way things turned out...)
On swashbucklers. I didn't pick the kit on power grounds, more like the lack thereof. Ayla was an unkitted thief and her backstabbing abilities trivialized most of the adventure. Her run was less interesting that it could have been on that account. I chose a swashbuckler because I enjoy rogues, but didn't want to be tempted to just backstab everything. Amara's tactics will be more diverse. I'm looking forward to that.
As for power, low level swashbucklers aren't great, comparatively speaking. There are more powerful characters- including the simple unassuming unkitted thief, among many other. I'm sure Amara is capable of getting through the adventure, though, and that's all I care about. She's fun and she's powerful enough. That's what matters to me.
(In general, I don't pick classes and kits based on power. I usually build characters by looking at portraits first. When I find one that strikes my fancy, I imagine what their class/kit would be. I build them up from there. I've played all sorts of characters in the challenge over the years. My successes have been with a sorcerer, a jester, a mage/thief, a fighter/mage and a barbarian, which is a good mix. It would be nice to add a single class thief to the list.)
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Alesia_BH
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The Legend of Amara, Swashbuckler of the Sword Coast: Early Adventures, Part 1 (Or A Coin on its Edge)
I’d like to begin by apologizing for the grandiose title. Amara insisted. I guess I’m going to have to get used to that. She’s taken an interest in happenings in our world. None of my characters have done that before. I’m not sure what to make of it.
Amara doesn't entirely understand the connection between her and I. How could she? She lives in Faerun. She doesn't even know what a computer is, let alone a computer game or an online forum. What she does understand is that I live in a different world, and yet somehow influence her fate in hers. She also gets that I'm kind of like her biographer in this world, our world- that I'm recording her adventurers for others to read. Now, that’s not unusual- all of my characters have gotten that, to some extent. What’s unique about Amara is that she seems to care about her legacy here, in our world, almost as much as her fate in hers. Strange. And so for this run, I guess I have a writing assistant? Or an editor? Or a taskmaster? I’m not sure which, to be honest. I guess we’ll just have to see. In any case, she'll make requests from time to time, and I think it best that I oblige her. She is the hero, after all.
So: back to the title. I usually title my posts with my character's name, race and class, ex - Ayla, Halfling Thief: Part 1. You get the idea.
Well, Amara didn’t like that. Amara said her race is irrelevant- that she should be defined by her actions, not her origins. Fair point. She also said my usual style lacks pizzazz, panache- je ne sais quoi. That hit close to home. I’ve been doing this for years, and I like to think of myself as a stylish player. I’ll admit she has a point, though. And so we’ll do it her way. It’s for the best.
Right then: Let’s get to the action, shall we? Oh! But first: Actually, one more request from Amara. She wanted me to share a passage from The History of the Fateful Coin. She's an avid reader, and apparently it conveys how she felt in those early days. Here it is:
For some rare beings, the coin lands edge on, and these luckless few can forge their own fates, for they have more freedom over their destinies than the powers themselves.
I may be over analyzing, but I think that Amara’s way of dealing with how vulnerable she was in those early days- an attempt to find power in powerlessness. After all, she was very small and the world seemed big. A coin on its edge, unsure how she’d land.
Ok! To the adventure! And this time I mean it!
The road from Candlekeep heads in only one direction: east. And so Amara went. East to the Coast Way, then north to the Friendly Arm Inn. She found a diamond, a ring and then another ring along the way. Fortunate was with her. Or was it fate?
Her finds made her rich. Potions proffered from fellow adventurers gave her a workable kit. Two days from Candlekeep and things were looking up. The coin leans true.
South to Beregost, where Marl and Firebead brought level 2. Thief points went to move silently and find traps.
Amara’s next stop was High Hedge: wand of sleep, potion of mirror eyes, protection from undead and fire darts.
The wand of sleep would see immediate use in the grounds south of High Hedge. One wand of sleep charge, twelve darts: one wolf killed, one chicken saved.
Amara hoped rescuing Melicamp would get her to level 3. Alas, her luck had run out.
Intelligence, then. Like fighting slow footed ogrillions with darts…
Racing away from fleet footed xvarts with fast blades…
Finally, a proper score: a speed factor zero dagger, and a tomb ripe for exploration.
Tombs can be dangerous. But Amara came prepared: protection from undead and fire darts won the day. Amara reached level three.
Level four followed soon after. Suddenly the world didn’t seem so big, or at least Amara didn’t feel so small. Thief points went to set traps and move silently, once again. Her proficiency point went to short bows.
Amara was feeling better about herself. And yet she was still at risk, oh so at risk. A bandit ambush proved that. Sometimes you can’t run away quick enough.
Licking her wounds, Amara spoiled herself with a royal room at the Feldepost. She then planned her next move. She needed a shield amulet, a necklace of missiles and a magical bow. More importantly, she needed more experience and a better reputation. She started small, talking to Oublek and recovering Joia’s flamedance ring.
Next, the belt ogre and his much desired girdle of piercing.
Caldo and Krum followed. They went quietly, thanks to Amara’s wand of sleep
Onto Drienne. With Amara’s reputation at fifteen, Drienne gifted Amara a protection from undead scroll, a timely replacement for the one just spent.
Now at level five, Amara was ready for her first big adventure: A basilisk hunt. With a protection from petrification scroll, and her new friend Korax, Amara was unstoppable.
Amara appreciates a helping hand, especially when its paralytic. Good dog, Korax! Good dog!
Mutamin was defeated, Tamah was freed; Amara reached level six. The coin, it seems, has landed. Amara is heads up.
Amara's next stop is the Black Alaric Cave.
Best,
A.
I’d like to begin by apologizing for the grandiose title. Amara insisted. I guess I’m going to have to get used to that. She’s taken an interest in happenings in our world. None of my characters have done that before. I’m not sure what to make of it.
Amara doesn't entirely understand the connection between her and I. How could she? She lives in Faerun. She doesn't even know what a computer is, let alone a computer game or an online forum. What she does understand is that I live in a different world, and yet somehow influence her fate in hers. She also gets that I'm kind of like her biographer in this world, our world- that I'm recording her adventurers for others to read. Now, that’s not unusual- all of my characters have gotten that, to some extent. What’s unique about Amara is that she seems to care about her legacy here, in our world, almost as much as her fate in hers. Strange. And so for this run, I guess I have a writing assistant? Or an editor? Or a taskmaster? I’m not sure which, to be honest. I guess we’ll just have to see. In any case, she'll make requests from time to time, and I think it best that I oblige her. She is the hero, after all.
So: back to the title. I usually title my posts with my character's name, race and class, ex - Ayla, Halfling Thief: Part 1. You get the idea.
Well, Amara didn’t like that. Amara said her race is irrelevant- that she should be defined by her actions, not her origins. Fair point. She also said my usual style lacks pizzazz, panache- je ne sais quoi. That hit close to home. I’ve been doing this for years, and I like to think of myself as a stylish player. I’ll admit she has a point, though. And so we’ll do it her way. It’s for the best.
Right then: Let’s get to the action, shall we? Oh! But first: Actually, one more request from Amara. She wanted me to share a passage from The History of the Fateful Coin. She's an avid reader, and apparently it conveys how she felt in those early days. Here it is:
For some rare beings, the coin lands edge on, and these luckless few can forge their own fates, for they have more freedom over their destinies than the powers themselves.
I may be over analyzing, but I think that Amara’s way of dealing with how vulnerable she was in those early days- an attempt to find power in powerlessness. After all, she was very small and the world seemed big. A coin on its edge, unsure how she’d land.
Ok! To the adventure! And this time I mean it!
The road from Candlekeep heads in only one direction: east. And so Amara went. East to the Coast Way, then north to the Friendly Arm Inn. She found a diamond, a ring and then another ring along the way. Fortunate was with her. Or was it fate?
Her finds made her rich. Potions proffered from fellow adventurers gave her a workable kit. Two days from Candlekeep and things were looking up. The coin leans true.
South to Beregost, where Marl and Firebead brought level 2. Thief points went to move silently and find traps.
Amara’s next stop was High Hedge: wand of sleep, potion of mirror eyes, protection from undead and fire darts.
The wand of sleep would see immediate use in the grounds south of High Hedge. One wand of sleep charge, twelve darts: one wolf killed, one chicken saved.
Amara's next stop is the Black Alaric Cave.
Best,
A.
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The beginning of BG1 with some fedex quests, the Revenant, and basilisk farming to reach higher levels in minutes of playing time probably feels like a drill to you at this stage. Smooth sailing to Amara, and there is hope enemy archers continue to miss, especially considering she can't wear a helmet.
Alesia_BH
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Thanks for your comments, Antimatter!
In the bandit ambush above she had 32hp, oodles of healing potions and an emergency poi. She was pretty safe. I honestly can't remember the last time I lost a character early. The ambushes do still put a charge in me though. I always imagine the worst, even though the worst never seems to happen.
Best,
A.
Yeah. It's pretty straightforward. The tricky part is making it interesting, which is why I'm, like, pretending to have multiple personality disorder.
Thanks. By now she has 48hp, the Cloak of Displacement, the Girdle of Piercing and the Shield Amulet. Archers are a minor concern. And tbh, I wasn't really worried earlier
In the bandit ambush above she had 32hp, oodles of healing potions and an emergency poi. She was pretty safe. I honestly can't remember the last time I lost a character early. The ambushes do still put a charge in me though. I always imagine the worst, even though the worst never seems to happen.
Best,
A.
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Alesia_BH
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The Legend of Amara, Swashbuckler of the Sword Coast: Early Adventurers, Part 2 (Or The History of the Fate Spirit)
Amara has taken to calling me her Fate Spirit. I guess it makes sense from her point of view. I do guide her, and I do know her destiny, in a way.
Credit to her, though: she isn’t intimidated. She stands by her beliefs, and she makes her opinions known. She’s a natural adventurer. Or is it all that reading?
Speaking of reading, funny thing: Amara asked me to share another “quote,” although this time I need to put quote in quotes. I’m pretty sure she made this up. The “quote” comes from a book called The History of the Fate Spirit, or so Amara claims. Here it is:
And so the Fate Spirit learned that she did not know all: no being can or could. The Realms are vast, the Planes vaster still- the possibilities that spiral from them are myriad beyond comprehension. Knowledge can guide, but it is small in the face of infinity.
Calling bs? Yeah. Me too. I’m pretty sure that’s Amara’s way of saying don’t get cocky. It’s good advice, though, so I have no complaints.
Anyways, let’s get back to the adventure.
Amara’s early successes snowballed- one leading to another, and yet another. As that happened, her physical limitations became painfully clear. Amara is a strong woman, but she’s not physically strong. With a strength of 11, carrying her gear quickly became a challenge. Guided by her Fate Spirit, she sought a solution in the Black Alaric Cave.
The cave was defended by flesh golems. That wasn’t a concern: slow footed melee fighters never are- especially not where shadows are found. Amara was however troubled to learn that sirines lived near the cave. Now, I’ll admit that I’ve always just killed the sirines for experience, chugging the potion of clarity from Candlekeep and shooting them down. I haven’t always felt good about it, though, and Amara’s perspective made sense to me. Amara has read much about sirines. She knows they are neutral creatures, not evil. She knows too that they live in harmony with their environment, killing only enough to eat, never taking too much. Further, they are beautiful creatures, who find beauty in the world and create beauty from it, through art. Faerun could use more sirines. Maybe our world could too.
Alas, conflict proved unavoidable, as Amara struggled to find shadows. A potion of clarity and a Shield Amulet charge won the battle with ease, but there was a price to be paid. A world in need of harmony and beauty was made less harmonious and beautiful. Amara vowed to never make that mistake again: principles over prizes, from this day forth.
Amara was heavy hearted as she made her way through the cave, cutting down the flesh golems with her magical arrows.
Her Cloak of the Wolf will be worn in service of right and good, in the memory of those fallen sirines. Their sacrifice must be worth it, their memory held true.
I thank Amara for reminding me that not all red circles are foes. Some should be left to live. Others, though, must die, like the bullies, Vax and Zal.
Amara is by now a capable ranged fighter, and an expert trap maker. That’s a dangerous combo, to be sure. Wearing her Cloak of Displacement and Girdle of Piercing, with her Shield Amulet at the ready, Amara is a hard target for arrows to find. And what of the enemies who charge her with melee weapons? They meet the traps. It’s a deadly combination, as the Sword Coast is learning.
Amn is learning that lesson to. Here we see Sendai charging Amara, tripping the traps.
And her ranged fighters cut down by Amara’s arrows, as they launch their projectiles fruitlessly.
Amara now has a battle plan, and that’s what a great warrior needs. Not strength, not power, even: A plan. And what of a hero? What does a hero need? A hero needs a plan, but also a vision. It didn’t take Amara long to show she has both.
South of Nashkel, she found an artist, Prism, at work on a masterpiece, hunted and hounded by a bully named Greywolf. This was not a time for restraint. This was a time to intervene. Amara set her traps, both of them. She then activated her Shield Amulet and awaited the bully’s arrival.
Arrive he did, all seven levels of him, equal in every way to Amara. Step aside, he commanded. It was music to Amara’s ears.
“Step aside? Step aside I shall not! For I have no fear of coming between a puppy and his bones. Run back to your den, little wolfing. Or I shall make you my lap dog.¨
Greywolf was enraged, turning his attention from Prism, he charged Amara, just as Amara had planned. Amara’s traps fired. Greywolf howled, lurching at Amara with his swords. Amara danced away, smiling, sheathing her dagger and reaching for her darts of stunning. Greywolf, for all his strength, was helpless. And once Amara’s dart landed, she showed him who the real wolf is. A fitting end for a would be thug, in memory of the sirines.
When the battle was over, I instinctively reached for the emeralds. Amara stayed my hand. ”No. They stay right where they are,” she said, smiling, the golden light of sunset illuminating her hair. I think I’ve found my hero. And yes: This Fate Spirit still has much to learn.
Best,
A.
Amara has taken to calling me her Fate Spirit. I guess it makes sense from her point of view. I do guide her, and I do know her destiny, in a way.
Credit to her, though: she isn’t intimidated. She stands by her beliefs, and she makes her opinions known. She’s a natural adventurer. Or is it all that reading?
Speaking of reading, funny thing: Amara asked me to share another “quote,” although this time I need to put quote in quotes. I’m pretty sure she made this up. The “quote” comes from a book called The History of the Fate Spirit, or so Amara claims. Here it is:
And so the Fate Spirit learned that she did not know all: no being can or could. The Realms are vast, the Planes vaster still- the possibilities that spiral from them are myriad beyond comprehension. Knowledge can guide, but it is small in the face of infinity.
Calling bs? Yeah. Me too. I’m pretty sure that’s Amara’s way of saying don’t get cocky. It’s good advice, though, so I have no complaints.
Anyways, let’s get back to the adventure.
Amara’s early successes snowballed- one leading to another, and yet another. As that happened, her physical limitations became painfully clear. Amara is a strong woman, but she’s not physically strong. With a strength of 11, carrying her gear quickly became a challenge. Guided by her Fate Spirit, she sought a solution in the Black Alaric Cave.
The cave was defended by flesh golems. That wasn’t a concern: slow footed melee fighters never are- especially not where shadows are found. Amara was however troubled to learn that sirines lived near the cave. Now, I’ll admit that I’ve always just killed the sirines for experience, chugging the potion of clarity from Candlekeep and shooting them down. I haven’t always felt good about it, though, and Amara’s perspective made sense to me. Amara has read much about sirines. She knows they are neutral creatures, not evil. She knows too that they live in harmony with their environment, killing only enough to eat, never taking too much. Further, they are beautiful creatures, who find beauty in the world and create beauty from it, through art. Faerun could use more sirines. Maybe our world could too.
Alas, conflict proved unavoidable, as Amara struggled to find shadows. A potion of clarity and a Shield Amulet charge won the battle with ease, but there was a price to be paid. A world in need of harmony and beauty was made less harmonious and beautiful. Amara vowed to never make that mistake again: principles over prizes, from this day forth.
South of Nashkel, she found an artist, Prism, at work on a masterpiece, hunted and hounded by a bully named Greywolf. This was not a time for restraint. This was a time to intervene. Amara set her traps, both of them. She then activated her Shield Amulet and awaited the bully’s arrival.
“Step aside? Step aside I shall not! For I have no fear of coming between a puppy and his bones. Run back to your den, little wolfing. Or I shall make you my lap dog.¨
Greywolf was enraged, turning his attention from Prism, he charged Amara, just as Amara had planned. Amara’s traps fired. Greywolf howled, lurching at Amara with his swords. Amara danced away, smiling, sheathing her dagger and reaching for her darts of stunning. Greywolf, for all his strength, was helpless. And once Amara’s dart landed, she showed him who the real wolf is. A fitting end for a would be thug, in memory of the sirines.
A.
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Alesia_BH
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The Legend of Amara, Swashbuckler of the Sword Coast: The Nashkel Mines (Or A Fool in a Hole)
Amara has a theory. A defeat of a foe is most artful when that foe is bested in the way they know best. And so a thug who fancied himself a wolf could only be felled by tooth and paw. As for a priest of Cyric, he must fall to trickery.
With a string of successes behind her, Amara was by now well known in the environs of Nashkel. Some called her a hero, a legend, even. And so when Berrun Ghastkill announced that Amara, Swashbuckler of the Sword Coast, would be investigating the mines, a note of optimism swept through the beleaguered and sleepy town. That optimism was not misplaced. Amara was up to the challenge.
In the Naskel Mines stealth was the order of the day. Amara is a hero, fighting kobolds is beneath her. She had but one target: the mind behind those kobolds, Mulahey. Hidden in shadows, wary of traps, Amara made her way through the mines.
At times the path before her was unclear.
But Amara understands that patience is a virtue. Kobolds are fidgety. They move. Needle thread.
And yet again, this time squeezing behind a shaman and his well laid traps. Hurdle cleared.
Passing through the shaman's archway, Amara met a lone kobold. It was time to attack. Cloak of the Wolf.
In her wolf form, Amara could smell yet more kobolds ahead. She approached in shadows and spied them. A commando wielding a bow led the pack. Amara pounced from the shadows, seeking advantage against her bow wielding opponent.
Soon Amara's growl was met by those of kobold guards, wielding their poisoned daggers. Amara, with the caution of a hunter, pulled back. It was time for the bow. And so Amara remained unscathed, with naught but Mulaney's cave ahead.
Amara approached the cave with caution, checking for traps. She then hit the shadows and slipped in, just for a look. The cave had three sections. The entrance opened north to one. To the east there was another, inhabited by kobolds, all at rest and unwary. Mulahey inhabited a nook to the south, surrounded by his accoutrements, but no allies. On his own, Mulahey could be taken- of that Amara was sure. As for reinforcements, they could only come from the northern and eastern cavities. A plan formed. Amara set one of her traps in the eastern section, another in the north.
Next, she found an isolated corner of the mine where she could rest and build more traps, something for the pocket in combat. Amara knew just how she'd use them. Eight hours passed. It was time. Amara approached the cave and made her final preparations: Shield Amulet, potion of strength, potion of regeneration, Greenstone Amulet. Let's begin. Amara left the shadows and approached. Mulahey, mistaking Amara for an envoy of a superior, launched into a preemptive verbal defense. Amara, sensing an advantage, played along.
Yes! Tazok is most displeased. And I can't say I blame him. Your minions are useless. I walked past each and every one of them. And as for you...Why, I've been in this cave for hours, watching. You haven't even noticed.
Amara could tell by the glint in Mulahey's eye that the insinuation of threat had registered. Mulahey now knew the game was afoot. He ventured a gambit, inviting Amara to view documents in a chest to the south. Amara knew it was a trap, but she also knew she could turn it to her advantage. She made her way to the chest, watching Mulahey's eyes along the way. Eventually Mulahey turned his attention to the north, to his allies, as she knew he would. This was the moment Amara had been waiting for. She hit the shadows. Mulahey cried for help. But alas, to no avail. Amara's traps fired, Mulahey's minions were slaughtered. And when Mulahey turned over his shoulder to look for Amara, he saw nothing. The priest of Cyric had been gamed. Mulahey was terrified. And rightly so. He was no match.
Amara, still in the shadows, slipped northward. Mulahey's remaining minions gathered around him. And when they were in a tight formation, Amara, who had been preparing a gambit of her own, revealed herself. Necklace of Missiles. Only Mulahey remained. Amara hit the shadows again, heightening Mulahey's panic. He knew by now that all was lost.
Allowing a moment for drama, Amara revealed herself one last time.
"I have no idea who Tazok is. But surely he is disappointed. How could he not be? Look at you. Mulahey! Priest of Cyric! Terror of the Naskel Mines! Should I tremble? I think not. For all I see is a fool in a hole. Prove me wrong," Amara said, smiling, pointing her dagger at Mulahey's heart.
With naught left to do, Mulahey charged, a fatal mistake. Amara had lain her remaining traps, the ones she had prepared in the night. A last trick for the priest of Cyric. Another fitting end for an unworthy foe.
Soon the bandits of Peldvale will have their turn.
Best,
A.
Amara has a theory. A defeat of a foe is most artful when that foe is bested in the way they know best. And so a thug who fancied himself a wolf could only be felled by tooth and paw. As for a priest of Cyric, he must fall to trickery.
With a string of successes behind her, Amara was by now well known in the environs of Nashkel. Some called her a hero, a legend, even. And so when Berrun Ghastkill announced that Amara, Swashbuckler of the Sword Coast, would be investigating the mines, a note of optimism swept through the beleaguered and sleepy town. That optimism was not misplaced. Amara was up to the challenge.
In the Naskel Mines stealth was the order of the day. Amara is a hero, fighting kobolds is beneath her. She had but one target: the mind behind those kobolds, Mulahey. Hidden in shadows, wary of traps, Amara made her way through the mines.
Yes! Tazok is most displeased. And I can't say I blame him. Your minions are useless. I walked past each and every one of them. And as for you...Why, I've been in this cave for hours, watching. You haven't even noticed.
Amara could tell by the glint in Mulahey's eye that the insinuation of threat had registered. Mulahey now knew the game was afoot. He ventured a gambit, inviting Amara to view documents in a chest to the south. Amara knew it was a trap, but she also knew she could turn it to her advantage. She made her way to the chest, watching Mulahey's eyes along the way. Eventually Mulahey turned his attention to the north, to his allies, as she knew he would. This was the moment Amara had been waiting for. She hit the shadows. Mulahey cried for help. But alas, to no avail. Amara's traps fired, Mulahey's minions were slaughtered. And when Mulahey turned over his shoulder to look for Amara, he saw nothing. The priest of Cyric had been gamed. Mulahey was terrified. And rightly so. He was no match.
"I have no idea who Tazok is. But surely he is disappointed. How could he not be? Look at you. Mulahey! Priest of Cyric! Terror of the Naskel Mines! Should I tremble? I think not. For all I see is a fool in a hole. Prove me wrong," Amara said, smiling, pointing her dagger at Mulahey's heart.
With naught left to do, Mulahey charged, a fatal mistake. Amara had lain her remaining traps, the ones she had prepared in the night. A last trick for the priest of Cyric. Another fitting end for an unworthy foe.
Soon the bandits of Peldvale will have their turn.
Best,
A.
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Serg_BlackStrider
Habitué
- Messages
- 144
@Alesia_BH : Your 'History of the Fate Spirit' is just beautiful! "Principles over prizes", "Not all red circles are foes" - I love those notions and from now on I'll surely add them to my 'completionist' agenda ("Every foe should be dealt with one way or another"). To live is to learn, as they say You thank Amara for reminding you those notions and I, in turn, thank you for that!
That said, I'm actually follow those in my gaming (at least the 'Principles over prizes' one)- i.e., I always try to solve things via diplomacy and avoid bloodshed thus never kill most Dragons (and Llengrath) or guards in the Raedric's Keep (while it could be quite profitable considering the amount of very valuable loot there), etc. in Pillars of Eternity saga so Ultimate run of those (when you just forced to defeat all strong opponents) is a big 'no-no' for me. Not in terms of difficulty but in terms of morality.
You thank Amara for reminding you those notions and I, in turn, thank you for that!That said, I'm actually follow those in my gaming (at least the 'Principles over prizes' one)- i.e., I always try to solve things via diplomacy and avoid bloodshed thus never kill most Dragons (and Llengrath) or guards in the Raedric's Keep (while it could be quite profitable considering the amount of very valuable loot there), etc. in Pillars of Eternity saga so Ultimate run of those (when you just forced to defeat all strong opponents) is a big 'no-no' for me. Not in terms of difficulty but in terms of morality.
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Alesia_BH
Habitué
- Messages
- 912
The Legend of Amara, Swashbuckler of the Sword Coast: Bandit Camp (Or Not With a Dagger in My Hand)
Young warriors know their strengths; old warriors know their weaknesses. This is not a coincidence. For only those who know their limits make it to old age. Amara understands this.
Amara fancies herself a woman of the sword. Some day she will be. But here, now -at this stage of her development- Amara understands that bows, darts and daggers serve her best. With her dexterity of 19, Shield Amulet, Girdle of Piercing, Cloak of Displacement, Claw of the Kazgaroth, Boots of Avoidance and Bracers of Archery, Amara can build a strong comparative advantage at range against all but the most powerful foes. In melee she can have no such edge. Melee assaults should be rare. And if she is to strike in melee, if there is no other choice, she must strike quick- quicker than a desirable sword would allow, quick enough to avoid retaliation. Bows, darts and daggers it is.
And yet still: the sword retains its appeal. And yet still: the sword remains her destiny.
And so at night -at camp or in her room at the Feldepost- Amara trains with a scimitar, much as she did with her wooden sword, Rascal, in her youth. A woman of the sword Amara shall be: the time will come. And while that time is not yet here, Amara now carries a sword, mostly for show, but also as a reminder, a reminder of who she will be.
When Amara learned she would be raiding a camp full of bandits- the bulk of the force that has been plaguing the region- she didn't shirk. All she did was nod and speak a simple vow: "Not with a dagger in my hand."
There were, of course, small matters to attend to first: an assassin to best, a contact to interrogate. But they were in fact small matters, scarcely worthy of note. Our story is best served by moving forward to the bandits.
The camp raid would be Amara's greatest test yet, for only a hero true could take on an entire troop of bandits alone. The plan must be impeccable, no corners cut. And like all good plans, it must be tested first, starting with a smaller bunch.
In Peldvale Amara encountered a band, led by a magical hammer wielder, Raiken. He was supported by young bandits, all novices, but capable of fortunate hits. They must be separated. And the hammer wielder, Raiken, must be taken down quick, with blunt weapon defenses at the ready, just in case.
Amara equipped her Cloak of Displacement, Claw of the Kazgaroth and Boots of Avoidance- more than enough to thwart the bow wielders. For the hammer wielder, Raiken, she wore her Girdle of Bluntness, and kept a potion of absorption at the ready, along with darts of stunning. She also laid her two traps, just behind her, for insurance. Win first, then go to war: that is Amara's way.
It was time to begin. Wand of Sleep.
Amara's Wand of Sleep charge took out the bandits, separating Raiken from his support. Raiken charged with his hammer, only to be stunned by a dart. Amara switched to her wolf form, striking Raiken down first.
His helpless crew soon followed.
A success, and an effective test of key tactics. It was time to put away the dagger, time for the big dance.
Amara arrived at the camp at night and scouted from the shadows. To the east she set a stack of traps -as many as she could muster. She took a deep breath, grasped her scimitar, and began her preparations: protection from fire, potion of fire resistance, potion of regeneration, oil of speed and shield amulet. Amara then hit the shadows and passed through the camp, heading straight for the central structure where the leaders must be.
She then found an isolated corner to apply one last protection: a Greenstone Amulet charge. Time to begin.
There was no need for trickery. By simply being there -boldly in the open- Amara had the element of surprise.
This was not a time for words. It was time to explode.
Amara's opening potion of explosions stunned her foes, but they remained on their feet, and scrambled their defenses. This would be a battle true. Countless arrows flew. And while most missed, some hit. Amara launched a second potion of explosions, thinning the crowd.
But those arrows kept landing, against all odds. Amara sensing a need for a reset, activated her newest acquisition, Sandthief. Once invisible, Amara healed and collected herself. She then focused on the mage, Venkt, seeking her foe, amidst his illusions.
Soon there was but one mage before her. He would be her target: dart of stunning.
With the mage out of the picture, and the herd thinned, the scales now tipped in Amara's favor. Victory was inevitable.
And soon it came.
But this was just stage one of the assault, for outside, there were countless bandits, bandits who surely heard the commotion in their midst, bandits who were on their way. Amara slipped into the shadows to take them on.
Surveying her foes, Amara knew that the hammer wielder, Taurgosz, must be the first to fall. She attracted his attention, and then headed east, straight to the traps, all set for him. There was nothing Taurgosz could do but fall.
The bandit leaders were by now decimated, but the horde remained, and a horde it was.
Amara knew that to stand her ground would be to take an unnecessary risk. And so she struck and faded, struck and faded, again and again- leading the bandits all around the camp, carefully sniping the most powerful among them, the Black Talon elites.
It was a long and arduous process, but eventually the last of the Black Talons fell, leaving only the lesser bandits, the lesser bandits who, as Amara had by now learned, are vulnerable to her Wand of Sleep.
It took a few charges, but soon the last of the bandits were at rest. Cloak of the Wolf.
So ends the Black Talons, so ends the Chill, so ends the bandit threat to the Sword Coast. And so Amara's star rises: Swashbuckler of the Sword Coast, indeed.
And while Amara may not have swung that scimitar, she had it in her hand, just as she promised. So a legend grows.
Best,
A.
Amara fancies herself a woman of the sword. Some day she will be. But here, now -at this stage of her development- Amara understands that bows, darts and daggers serve her best. With her dexterity of 19, Shield Amulet, Girdle of Piercing, Cloak of Displacement, Claw of the Kazgaroth, Boots of Avoidance and Bracers of Archery, Amara can build a strong comparative advantage at range against all but the most powerful foes. In melee she can have no such edge. Melee assaults should be rare. And if she is to strike in melee, if there is no other choice, she must strike quick- quicker than a desirable sword would allow, quick enough to avoid retaliation. Bows, darts and daggers it is.
And yet still: the sword retains its appeal. And yet still: the sword remains her destiny.
And so at night -at camp or in her room at the Feldepost- Amara trains with a scimitar, much as she did with her wooden sword, Rascal, in her youth. A woman of the sword Amara shall be: the time will come. And while that time is not yet here, Amara now carries a sword, mostly for show, but also as a reminder, a reminder of who she will be.
When Amara learned she would be raiding a camp full of bandits- the bulk of the force that has been plaguing the region- she didn't shirk. All she did was nod and speak a simple vow: "Not with a dagger in my hand."
There were, of course, small matters to attend to first: an assassin to best, a contact to interrogate. But they were in fact small matters, scarcely worthy of note. Our story is best served by moving forward to the bandits.
In Peldvale Amara encountered a band, led by a magical hammer wielder, Raiken. He was supported by young bandits, all novices, but capable of fortunate hits. They must be separated. And the hammer wielder, Raiken, must be taken down quick, with blunt weapon defenses at the ready, just in case.
Amara equipped her Cloak of Displacement, Claw of the Kazgaroth and Boots of Avoidance- more than enough to thwart the bow wielders. For the hammer wielder, Raiken, she wore her Girdle of Bluntness, and kept a potion of absorption at the ready, along with darts of stunning. She also laid her two traps, just behind her, for insurance. Win first, then go to war: that is Amara's way.
It was time to begin. Wand of Sleep.
Amara arrived at the camp at night and scouted from the shadows. To the east she set a stack of traps -as many as she could muster. She took a deep breath, grasped her scimitar, and began her preparations: protection from fire, potion of fire resistance, potion of regeneration, oil of speed and shield amulet. Amara then hit the shadows and passed through the camp, heading straight for the central structure where the leaders must be.
This was not a time for words. It was time to explode.
Best,
A.
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OrlonKronsteen
Habitué
- Messages
- 329
Is it okay to ask for no-reloading advice in this thread, or should there be a separate thread for that as there is on the Beamdog forums?
Alesia_BH
Habitué
- Messages
- 912
The Legend of Amara, Swashbuckler of the Sword Coast: The Cloakwood Mines, Part 1 (Or Less Than Amends)
It's hard to be a fate spirit. It's like being a parent. You want to see your charge thrive, you want to gift them all you know. And yet you understand that there are somethings they must learn for themselves. There's a balance to be struck. No one knows where it rests.
And so as I watched Amara painstakingly research the history of the Sword Coast's magical scimitars, aided by her old friend, Firebead Elvenhair, at the Feldepost Inn, I wondered whether I should reveal what I knew. Something told me that I shouldn't. Something told me that the blade would mean more to Amara if she found it herself. I was not mistaken.
Amara's passage through the Cloakwood was silent, contemplative. She sought to observe, to learn- not to disrupt. Amara seeks to make her mark in the world, but not in places like this. The wilds of the Realms have suffered enough from the touch of the races, the so called good included. A hero knows pride; a legend knows humility. This was a place to be humble, a place to be reverent.
It was also a place for caution, for the Cloakwood is rife with danger. The wilds are not a place of peace, or good, or tranquility. They know nothing of the values -the fictions- that the races create. The wild are a place of being, of becoming, of unfolding- a grand equation of action, balanced by opposing forces. Chaos is part of the formula: life thrives on its edge, so too does death.
In the Cloakwood Amara kept two tools at the ready: her Sandthief ring and her potions of freedom. They and they alone were all she needed for safe passage.
Amara passed by the spiders under invisibility. She raced from the ettercaps and wyverns who accosted her in every clearing. She slipped through the rest of the forest in the shadows, observing what she could, absorbing what she could. She only stopped once.
Just a few hours from the mines, Amara encountered a hamadryad, a protector of the forest. Amara was struck by its beauty and dignity, but also its sadness. After hours of watching and pondering, Amara hesitantly chose to reveal herself. It was a risk in more ways than one. Conflict would be a tragedy almost as great as death.
"Begone, halfling: You are not welcome here," The hamadryad cried, burning with anger.
Amara expected this. "I should leave. And I will. But first I wish to speak. I've walked these woods with reverence, through day and night. I have seen much and learned much and I am better for it. What I've seen in you is pain, undeserved pain. Tell me what ails you most, and I will seek to remedy it. A service, offered with respect."
The hamadryad paused for a moment, puzzled. She reached out with her mind, touching Amara's. She probed the surface, then moved deeper. Suddenly the hamadryad understood. It was best to make the halfling say it. "Why do you make this offer, halfling? It is not like your kind. Speak plain and true and I will hear you."
For the first time in her adventure Amara was shaken. For the first time she didn't know what to say. For the first time she laid herself bare. "I...I have made mistakes. I seek amends." The words were brief, but they spoke much. It was all the hamadryad needed to hear.
"Yes. I see in your mind. My watery sisters, the sirines: killed by your hand, laying at your feet. There is a part of me that hates you for it. But just as I can see that you have failed, I see that you have learned. And I have long known that one can't expect right or justice from the races of the Realms. All you can ask is that they grow. Very well. I am most troubled by the mine to the east. It is a festering wound that withers all it touches. I would see it ended and I would see the men who made it punished. Will you do this?"
Amara couldn't have been more pleased. "I will. I planned to anyways, but now my purpose is-"
"Silence, halfling! I have more to say. I see something else in your mind. You seek a sword. A magical scimitar. I know of one, not far from here, along the path you traveled. I will reveal it to you, in exchange for your word that you will do what you claim."
"I thank you, most graciously. You have my word," Amara said, with a bow. The hamadryad nodded. Amara began to walk away, the location of scimitar shinning in her mind. Amara's pace quickened with excitement, but then a thunderous call halted her. The hamadryad had one last thing to say.
"Before you leave, halfling: understand this. What you seek to do is just, and I support you. But it is less than amends. Now find that sword and stick it in the hearts of the men who made that mine."
Amara understood that those should be the last words. She bowed once again and walked away, at a respectful pace. That is how Amara, Swashbuckler of the Sword Coast, found her sword. It is also how the legendary blade, Rashad's Talon, found a new name: hence forth known as The Dryad's Vengeance.
Days passed, days of walking and reflection. Just when it seemed the forest would go on forever, the trees gave way to a palisade. Amara had arrived at the mine, her new blade in hand.
The entrance to the mine was defended by a fearsome party. Two mages, two warriors, each more experienced than Amara. This would be yet another test, just as challenging as the bandit camp had been, albeit less grand in scope. Amara, guided by her fate spirit, knew just how to proceed.
Amara first task was to lure out the guards. That was done with ease.
Next, she would need to setup a batch of traps -and not just a days worth, as is her custom: a full stack. Amara proceeded carefully, resting to the west, returning, and laying her traps by the bridge, where the guards had been. This plan was not without dangers. Giant spiders inhabited the woods to the west, but Amara was prepared: potion of freedom.
With the last trap set, Amara's made her final preparations: potion of mind focusing, potion of regeneration, oil of speed, Shield Amulet, Greenstone Amulet- potion of absorption at the ready. It was time. The mage, Kysus, was Amara's first target. She approached hidden in shadows, quaffed her potion of firebreath, and let out a mighty roar. Kysus was killed instantly. His brethren, Rezdan, followed soon after.
Drasus, the party's melee warrior, charged Amara with his morningstar. Even with her oil of speed Amara could barely keep ahead of him. Alas, she didn't have far to go. Her destination was the bridge, and her traps. Soon the unwary speedster, Drasus, was no more.
All that remained was the throwing axe wielder, Genthore. Amara was more than happy to settle into a ranged fight with him. A fighter of Genthore's skill couldn't possible best her bow. Amara prevailed, and with ease.
By now nothing stands between Amara and the mine. That is well. Amara has a promise to keep.
Best,
A.
And so as I watched Amara painstakingly research the history of the Sword Coast's magical scimitars, aided by her old friend, Firebead Elvenhair, at the Feldepost Inn, I wondered whether I should reveal what I knew. Something told me that I shouldn't. Something told me that the blade would mean more to Amara if she found it herself. I was not mistaken.
Amara's passage through the Cloakwood was silent, contemplative. She sought to observe, to learn- not to disrupt. Amara seeks to make her mark in the world, but not in places like this. The wilds of the Realms have suffered enough from the touch of the races, the so called good included. A hero knows pride; a legend knows humility. This was a place to be humble, a place to be reverent.
It was also a place for caution, for the Cloakwood is rife with danger. The wilds are not a place of peace, or good, or tranquility. They know nothing of the values -the fictions- that the races create. The wild are a place of being, of becoming, of unfolding- a grand equation of action, balanced by opposing forces. Chaos is part of the formula: life thrives on its edge, so too does death.
In the Cloakwood Amara kept two tools at the ready: her Sandthief ring and her potions of freedom. They and they alone were all she needed for safe passage.
Amara passed by the spiders under invisibility. She raced from the ettercaps and wyverns who accosted her in every clearing. She slipped through the rest of the forest in the shadows, observing what she could, absorbing what she could. She only stopped once.
Just a few hours from the mines, Amara encountered a hamadryad, a protector of the forest. Amara was struck by its beauty and dignity, but also its sadness. After hours of watching and pondering, Amara hesitantly chose to reveal herself. It was a risk in more ways than one. Conflict would be a tragedy almost as great as death.
Amara expected this. "I should leave. And I will. But first I wish to speak. I've walked these woods with reverence, through day and night. I have seen much and learned much and I am better for it. What I've seen in you is pain, undeserved pain. Tell me what ails you most, and I will seek to remedy it. A service, offered with respect."
The hamadryad paused for a moment, puzzled. She reached out with her mind, touching Amara's. She probed the surface, then moved deeper. Suddenly the hamadryad understood. It was best to make the halfling say it. "Why do you make this offer, halfling? It is not like your kind. Speak plain and true and I will hear you."
For the first time in her adventure Amara was shaken. For the first time she didn't know what to say. For the first time she laid herself bare. "I...I have made mistakes. I seek amends." The words were brief, but they spoke much. It was all the hamadryad needed to hear.
"Yes. I see in your mind. My watery sisters, the sirines: killed by your hand, laying at your feet. There is a part of me that hates you for it. But just as I can see that you have failed, I see that you have learned. And I have long known that one can't expect right or justice from the races of the Realms. All you can ask is that they grow. Very well. I am most troubled by the mine to the east. It is a festering wound that withers all it touches. I would see it ended and I would see the men who made it punished. Will you do this?"
Amara couldn't have been more pleased. "I will. I planned to anyways, but now my purpose is-"
"Silence, halfling! I have more to say. I see something else in your mind. You seek a sword. A magical scimitar. I know of one, not far from here, along the path you traveled. I will reveal it to you, in exchange for your word that you will do what you claim."
"I thank you, most graciously. You have my word," Amara said, with a bow. The hamadryad nodded. Amara began to walk away, the location of scimitar shinning in her mind. Amara's pace quickened with excitement, but then a thunderous call halted her. The hamadryad had one last thing to say.
"Before you leave, halfling: understand this. What you seek to do is just, and I support you. But it is less than amends. Now find that sword and stick it in the hearts of the men who made that mine."
Amara understood that those should be the last words. She bowed once again and walked away, at a respectful pace. That is how Amara, Swashbuckler of the Sword Coast, found her sword. It is also how the legendary blade, Rashad's Talon, found a new name: hence forth known as The Dryad's Vengeance.
Days passed, days of walking and reflection. Just when it seemed the forest would go on forever, the trees gave way to a palisade. Amara had arrived at the mine, her new blade in hand.
The entrance to the mine was defended by a fearsome party. Two mages, two warriors, each more experienced than Amara. This would be yet another test, just as challenging as the bandit camp had been, albeit less grand in scope. Amara, guided by her fate spirit, knew just how to proceed.
Amara first task was to lure out the guards. That was done with ease.
By now nothing stands between Amara and the mine. That is well. Amara has a promise to keep.
Best,
A.
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