Post/Author/DateTime	Post
zeppenwolf 08-03-05, 07:36 PM	Hi guys. I wrote a background story for a character I was going to submit to an online game. Well, I didn't mean it to, but the background turned out to be almost a short story. I'm pasting it below, if anyone cares to critique it, give constructive advice, etc, please do. Obviously it might be "too long", but I'm also concerned that it's too cliched, too corny, too... well, that's why I'm asking you. If you want to specifically critique it as it pertains to the character sheet, the actual guy is here (http://www.3eprofiler.net/3ep/view.php?id=29697). His deal is, he's a "man of knowledge", a book nut. Eh. Oh, yeah-- of course, I would be grateful if you find spelling or grammar goofs. "Zophos" is from the Greek "sophos", knowledge, which might make you think of words like philosophy, sophistry, sophisticated. Anyway, here comes the story: ------- Zophos gazed out from his parapet window onto the rooftops of the city far below. It was the dead hours before dawn. No commoners walked the streets, no windows flickered with light. The Southern Look was by far the tallest parapet of Duke Luston's castle, marking the southeastern corner of the Duke's land. From the watchdeck level below, it was ten feet of draw-ladder to the bottom landing, then one hundred sixteen steps of spiralling stair to the small room of the parapet. Zophos' room, as it had come to be. Nobody but Zophos would ever bother to climb these stairs— why would they? To lean out the south window and spit on the city dwellers walking by? No other reason was there to come up here, for no watch was needed, no attack would be coming. The Duchy had ruled this part of the Highlands for a century. Nobody but Zophos had come to this parapet in decades, and that was precisely why he had made it his retreat. On any other day in these past years, Zophos would sit here gathering knowledge, researching lore, reading his books. The castle library had been stocked well to the point of being treasureful, from a time when lords of the castle wiser than the present one had known the value of knowledge. Knowledge was power. And power was freedom. And freedom was what Zophos wanted. That Zophos was a hound for letters all the castle knew. Indeed, the Duke's inner circle mocked him for it. But the Duke's sycophants did not know everything about Zophos, whom they thought themselves so far above. For one thing, Zophos had been reading about magic, a thing most definitely disapproved in the court. He had even dared to practice it, although the Duke's penalty for practicing magic would have been severe, even for Zophos. Sitting here alone high up in his room, he had indeed amassed knowledge. So if knowledge could bring freedom, then tonight he would be a free man, tonight was the night he had spent years studying and preparing for. Freedom! How ludicrous his situation was! From his parapet he looked out over a city of commoners who would surely trade places with him in a heartbeat, if they could. Did he not have his fill of the finest meats, harvests, and ales that the commoners toiled to produce? Did he not live in luxury's lap, taking whatever recreation he wished, at any time he wished, while the commoners slaved under a hot sun? Indeed, to the commoners he was near a god, for he could go among them to cavort and excess as he pleased. He was not just above the law, he was the law, for he was a son of the Duke of Luston. But he was not free. Unlike the other sons of the Duke, if Zophos went out of the castle walls his escorts were there by his side not to protect him, but to protect the Duke from being embarrassed in his rare society. Zophos' special escorts had simple orders— ensure that Zophos returned to the castle, and ensure that the secret of Zophos' heritage did not leave his lips to reach a living ear. Zophos' mother was not the sickly sweet Duchess, his mother was a common servant more comely than her rank. But he did not know her, for she had been sent long ago to another Duchy in exchange for a chase-horse. His own mother, traded for a horse! And by his own father, no less! But two lords could swap riding toys if they wished— who was Zophos to dare question it? Why he was not killed when a newborn he didn't know; perhaps because he was the Duke's first male. But his life had been like that of a favored hunting dog, loved for a time, then put in a cage when not needed. The Duke's inner circle advised him to speak when spoken to, to keep a fair distance from visiting nobles, to make acquaintance among the servants. And knowing he would never be heir, they mocked and humiliated him on any whim. Like many who were bullied and humiliated from an early age, Zophos had reacted by imagining that someday he would turn and avenge himself, and so had spent much time with sport and exercise, to tone his muscles and his constitution. He had practiced with many weapons, especially spending hours on the range with his crossbow. Others believed it was just his pastime, while secretly of course he wished to someday raise that bow against his tormenters... Zophos gazed out from his parapet window onto the rooftops of the city far below, gazing only because he thought he might never gaze out this window again. Carefully he unrolled two spell scrolls he would cast tonight. These spells were beyond his ability to scribe, so he had purchased them from a wizard on the outskirts of town, using a trusted chambermaid as go-between. He had studied them fiercely. He still didn't understand them completely, but it seemed that the first part of each spell specifically granted him the power to read the remainder of the scroll. And he had paid dearly for these! He had a scant X gold sovereigns left, less than he had thrown to beggars in the past. But the scrolls in his hand might be the spell of freedom, and perhaps when the dawn came he would think himself richer than all the Duke's pretty court. First he would cast the rope-ladder. If that didn't work, there was no point in continuing, the plan would fail. Calming himself, he began to read. His senses seemed to clear, his very mind seemed to expand, his power of focus sharpened a hundred-fold. He was in a mental vertigo, at once exhilirating and terrifying, but he wasn't going to falter now-- this was his chance, and he remembered it. An image of a ladder appeared in his mind, then it seemed to increase in substance, then he was the ladder, but the ladder was before him, but he was the ladder... Then his mind was drawn to the sill-posts where the ladder was to be attached, and he had the feeling of falling, of being pulled down like a lead weight in the sea, but his eyes told him he wasn't moving at all, but his mind was falling, faster, faster... was the price of freedom madness? The scroll vanished; a rope-ladder appeared on his window sill, draping down to the city street stories below, outside the castle walls. "Sweet Mother of Boccob, the damn thing worked!!!" Catching his breath, it was time to descend the spiral stairs to the watchdeck level, where he would cast the second spell. But no sooner had he grabbed the remaining scroll than he heard a familiar shout calling to him from the bottom of the stairway. "Bookworm! Bookworm!!" Damnation! It was Spyden, the Duke's lackey, Zophos' lifelong torment, a man who humiliated Zophos for the mere sport of it, a rat of a man who Zophos despised more than any other. "Come down from your pigeon's roost, 'Worm! Your presence is wanted in the garden!" It couldn't be! Would the work of years be foiled by this single stroke of infernal misfortune? By the witless and unwitting hand of the despicable Spyden no less? It was impossible! It was unbearable! It was… It was, perhaps, good fortune disguised, he thought, as a very small change in plans occurred to him. It would require him to do something he had never done before in his life. But tonight seemed to be a night for such things. Zophos took the second scroll and began descending the spiral stair, a thing he had planned years ago. He also had his heavy crossbow slung on his back, a thing he had not planned until this very minute. "Spyden, await me! I bring a gift for the Duke which you shall bear to him!" Zophos snickered silently, imagining the look of puzzlement which must now be on the vile Spyden's face. "Gift? What kind of gift could you bring down from your dusty loft, 'Worm?" Soon enough Zophos was standing on the landing of the first step of the stairway, looking down on Spyden ten feet below. "Where is this strange gift, 'Worm? Throw down the draw-ladder and come already-- my patience wanes!" "Only your own eyes may see this gift, Spyden. Close the door, please." Perplexed but intrigued, Spyden closed the door, and Zophos began to cast. "What now, 'Worm? What is that language you speak? This is no time for ancient language studies! Enough foolery! And where is this gift?" Again Zophos felt the exhiliration of seeming to expand in mind and sharpen in senses, but while it was no less terrifying than the first time, this time he knew he would see it through until its mad end... "Is this some kind of magic trick? You know how the Duke feels about magic. Are you now a magician, 'Worm?!" The scroll vanishing from his hands, Zophos stood looking down on his lifelong torment. "Very well, then Spyden-- open the door, and we shall leave." Spyden quickly turned in anger to open the door, but it would not budge. "Wha..?!? I don't understand... it seems to be stuck, now... I opened it only a moment ago..." "Excellent!", said Zophos, a smile widening on his face, "Then in answer to your question-- Yes! I do appear to be a wizard of some small ability. So you can stop wasting your effort on the door, Spyden. Nobody is going to pass through that door for the next fortnight. Certainly nobody of your caliber." "You mean you've trapped us here, you worthless bastard?!?" "Actually, no. I mean that you are trapped, Spyden. I also mean that nobody in this miserable castle will know that I have departed. And I also mean that from your spectacularly bad sense of timing, you will forfeit your own life. Sorry, Spyden but you really picked the wrong time to come pester me." Zophos took his crossbow from his back, fed a bolt, and raised to aim. With nowhere to hide, Spyden stood dumbfounded in fear and disbelief, the perfectly cooperative target. "And now, Spyden, here is the gift I have for my father, which you shall bear to him." And with that, a heavy bolt sailed into Spyden's forehead, penetrating his skull, and sinking into the door behind him. Spyden slumped, but did not fall, as dead as the portait of the Duke which hung in the dining hall. "A pity I don't have time to wrap it", Zophos reflected, and he then slung his bow to climb one hundred sixteen steps for what he expected as the last time. Gathering his pack, he made the much longer trip down his magic rope-ladder to the city street below. Standing on the blessed cobblestone, he pulled on the rope of the ladder-- three tugs, two tugs, three tugs, and the ladder disappeared. The man of knowledge began walking.
Rallaster 08-03-05, 10:28 PM	Off topic: How is that you can be neat and use punctuation and capitalization here, but not on your character sheet?
zeppenwolf 08-04-05, 12:04 AM	Off topic: How is that you can be neat and use punctuation and capitalization here, but not on your character sheet? I see no reason to capitalize the word "human" and the word "wizard", etc, on a character sheet. Neither do I think they need much in the way of punctuation. Similarly for being neat-- I honestly haven't the slightest idea where you're coming from. Would you care to be specific?
Morka 08-04-05, 09:37 AM	Well, that's a good story. But I thought that you would leave the city, not the castle. In the city, there's an high chance that you come accross some noble who know you, or some servant who saw you at their master's estate; without talking about guard patrols. Should you be only the missing bast@rd son of the Duke, all those people would only have laugh at the duke and probably helped you. But now that you are a murderer, there should be an high cost for your head. Where did you learned the spells you know? Perhaps did you "find" the spellbook of a former court's wizard. About your character sheet, I remarked that you took the feat Rapid Shot, and that you're using an Heavy Crossbow. Such a Crossbow require a full-round action to reload, and even the Rapid-Reload feat shorten this to a move-action, so you can't shot more than once in a round. Unless you plan to use a Repeating Heavy Crossbow later, you're running into an impass. Edit: I just remarked you had Rapid Reload, not Rapid Shot. Sorry. :surrender
Arden Blackleaf 08-04-05, 11:19 AM	"Frowns" Excellent story. Just a slight critique on the character sheet. Your missing two hitpoints from your CON modifier.
zeppenwolf 08-04-05, 12:10 PM	Well, that's a good story. But I thought that you would leave the city, not the castle. In the city, there's an high chance that you come accross some noble who know you, or some servant who saw you at their master's estate; without talking about guard patrols. Should you be only the missing bast@rd son of the Duke, all those people would only have laugh at the duke and probably helped you. But now that you are a murderer, there should be an high cost for your head. Where did you learned the spells you know? Perhaps did you "find" the spellbook of a former court's wizard. Hmmm well I need to think about this for awhile. So thanks! Thanks to Blackleaf too; I just got up, I need *coffee*, so I need to go to the ATM... Back after I get some fuel for the brain.