Some months ago, I along with a great group of Trolls, set out on Ken St Andre's 'Khazan' game over at the Outer Sanctum. It was dark and tense. The players became paranoid and nothing was easy. Then Ken had to pass on the game because of other, weighty commitments and Roy Cram took over. Roy told a great story with players in tow and has just wrapped it all up.
My character, a specialist mage (my first!), the innocent half-elf conjuror, Perry Stroika, survived. The simple forest lad emerged far better equipped to walk in a dangerous, deadly world but far from unscathed by his actions and their impact on events beyond his control. Here are his reflections:
"The formulae spilling out of his lips from the jumble of his brains were something Perry was painfully aware of, sleep notwithstanding. He wanted to talk to Mensa about this but now was not the time. The arithmetical adventure in store for the two strangely-bound Viners would not unfold for a few more moons yet.
He was happy to accept the position in the library for a limited tenure as he had much to learn and wanted to repay the kindness and consideration he had been shown through sweat of brow and mental toil; happy too that this young woman was pleased that he would stay on with her here. He hoped Zhahn would be accepting the librarian posting too because he felt the need to better understand the elf's world view, not so different to that he had inherited from his forest kin but slanted sufficiently to give him pause for reflection.
As for Lumlas, Gronk, Lady Wenn and the others, Perry felt a lesser connection but as members of the Fellowship of the Vine from that first day in Khazan when he had been hit on the head by the uruk watchman, just for being half-elven, they had his undying loyalty and service.
Perry could not believe that Greybat had actually fallen and that he had touched the Death-Goddess. He wanted to return to Khazan one day, to prove to himself - and Mensa - that he could become street-smart. He would be keeping Jeeves close at hand though! Perry tipped his lost cap to that invisible friend, he of the wolf-troll roasting exploits.
A sigh passed Perry's lips again. Edurin, Wolf, Kannish, and Weslynn, Algris too, Madame Zolgah and her shattered crystal ball, the twisted folk of Hunt Center, the captain of the boat, Count Rasulki and his entourage - they all stormed through Perry's mind like dancers at a masquerade ball. Then his father, his poor, lost father, Perry held his head in his hands and wept. When all was said and all was done, he had failed. His attempt to bring close what could never be clasped safely to the heart had cost many lives. The sobbing carried him on in a tide of compassion and he swore that he would never take a life again and that his days upon the earth would be directed only to the shaping of a kinder world."