With the end of Grimgut the Mad's adventuring career having come to pass, I will be continuing my Character Blog series with my remaining characters that I play in various RPGs. Today I introduce to you Fargrimm Firebeard, a Dwarf with a penchant for Conjuration and a habit of seducing his way around the universe. What follows is his abridged impressions of the first 4 gaming sessions of our Spelljammer campaign, featuring a few former gaming greats.
Life has been... interesting since the encounter with the Mindflayers. There's a large part of my memories that are still missing, but I do know that we did something that will bring about the end of time, and now we're trying to fix it. Or so we've been told, Mordenkainen has been a little less than forthcoming in his information. So I suppose I should start with what I know and we can work back from there.
My name is Fargrimm Firebeard, with my brother Dargrimm we are travelling Wildspace fighting evil, righting wrongs and serving as emissaries of our people. Emissaries is a strong word. A more accurate word you could probably describe us as would be outcasts, having been told to leave our Asteroid home and seek our fortunes elsewhere after an unfortunate incident at the Academy whereby I missed my own graduation due to having to borrow a serving girl and a short range transport, and maybe the serving girl might have been a gnome. Terrible misunderstanding of course, but they wouldn't listen. They just pinned my graduation to me and sent me onwards.
So we met with ol' Mordy, having been pulled from the deck of the Spelljammer itself. Place was in dreadful shape, couldn't even get a decent pint. Took with us a few interesting sorts who apparently we've known for some time now. There's the Pirate mistress, a busty lass with a very talented chest; Mr Vandemar, an enigmatic fellow who doesn't like being touched, not even in a big ol' dwarven hug; and Morgan, a saucy wee lass with fantastic skill with a blade and a holier than thou attitude. Dargrimm and I clearly make up the brains and skill of the group, with each of us being an accomplished craftsman in his own field.
So Mordy was kind enough to put us in contact with the Elven Armada, uptight bunch if ever I saw, but not before he disguised us as a bunch of god damned filthy, beardless drow. We signed on with the Armada to complete a mission: we were to acquire and deliver a Witchlite Marauder from the Skro to the Elves. Sounds easy enough, but first we had to go get the key. Now, typical of Elven craft, as we approached this solar system the bloody Wasp that we were flying in, provided by the damned Elves, hits a bit of turbulence and dies. Right there and then, the damned thing craps out at the first touch of Deadspace, with no other means of control. We got into a bit of a tussle with a couple of shiploads of Lizardfolk Religious Fanatics, and just as the fighting was getting good, a great big dragon rolls in and drives them away! Just as we were preparing to fire on this damnable interloper, the illusion clears to reveal itself to be the rather gaudy ship of a magician named Mandar, crewed by anthropomorphised rabbits of his own design. He graciously gave us a tow and we moved on with our mission.
The key was hidden in a dying solar system, a pocket sphere within a sphere, created by the gods and then abandoned, to be revitalised by another god and abandoned again. Gotta love the gods, if they're not meddling in your lives they're abandoning you to die because of their own overly complex system being poorly made. If there were more Dwarf Gods around, then we'd see some real progress happening. Solar systems so sturdy you can bounce asteroids off them, suns so powerful they never die. None of this wishy, washy, "We need the gods to maintain our complex ecosystem nonsense". But I'm digressing. So we roll up, smash through some deformed flying pegasus, and claim the key. We might have destroyed an entire race's religion, changed the colour of their sky and slightly murdered their constabulatory, but the important thing is that there might be a half dwarf pegasus unicorn there. That's going to get complicated.
Having acquired the key to the heart of the Marauder, we headed for the Skro camp aboard the ship of Mandar, who over the course of the murdering the constabulatory bit exposed himself to be Melf, elven wizard of some renown, apparently he's fairly famous. Morgan became wet between the knees almost instantly, so far as I could tell. So with Melf's assistance, we entered the Skro stronhold and found the place deserted, nothing but a Tertiary Marauder left, who we promptly dispatched and moved on to pick up the Primary. We got her into the air, and good Moradin's Beard did she wallow like a sea barge. I've driven asteroids with better handling. Got the old whale into the air, and were attacked by a few shiploads of Skro. Melf did the elf thing, and flew out into the middle of them, detonating himself and most of the Armada. We got a bit of biff in against the remaining Skro, though unfortunately the War Priest landed a cheap shot on the wee lass Morgan and she popped out of existance. Either there was something about her that we didn't know, or that War Priest had powerful friends. The rest of us piled onto the marauder just in time for some contingency spell of Mordy's to kick in and drag us across the cosmos to his front door. What a jerk.