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Sunday, August 19, 2012

SF GURPS... Chance the One Eyed Dog!


Played GURPS in San Francisco this week with a bunch of my long time gaming friends. I play Chance 'The Once Eyed Dog' a character who started out as a Dungeons and Dragons 4e character and transitioned into a GURPS 4th edition character.

Chance grew up in a monastery as the son of the holy leader. As an adolescence Chance rejected the evil ways of the monastery. During a heated debate Chance murdered his father and fled the monastery. Loyal followers from the monastery vowed to avenge Chance. Out matched and over numbered Chance fled to Zargous where he established himself as a vigilante. Fearing to bring the wrath of the montestary and bounty hunters on any he befriended Chance remained a loner for many painful years.

Fate proved to be a fickle bitch and Chance's desire to avenge the wrongs imposed on innocence led him to join with a posse hunting goblin raiders. Chance got on well with the members of the posse for a while; his bad temper surfaced when Chance caught the members of the party trying to steal from a crypt. Tempers flared and swords were drawn. Chance was sent out of the mausoleum that the party had chased the goblins in to protect some rescued prisoners as well as separate him from the rest of the group. It should be noted that the party did refrain from robbing the crypt in the end.

The members of the posse made quite a name for themselves after rescuing the prisoners and a prominent Lord, one Lord Avery Green of Hempfast, invited the core members of the posse to stay on with him as men at arms. With the Hempfast sigil on their shields the group gained numerous benefits not available to common folk.

Chance fully disclosed his dark history to Lord Avery, who promised to lend his garrison’s full support against the evil monks should they return. Chance felt secure for the first time since learning of his father's evil ways. Chance took on the role of law enforcement for Lord Avery and diligently monitored Hempfast night and day from the roof tops. This annoyed the common folk and proved to be a pain to lord Avery so Chance no longer is allowed on the roof tops in Hempfast.

Lord Avery has sent Chance and his new found friends on many grand and dangerous adventures. Indeed twice Chance has taken blows to the head from melee weapons. The first time left Chance with a wicked scare running from the top of his head down the side of his face to the bottom of his jaw. The hair in the scar area has turned white, and since the scar was field dressed it is a rather large and ugly scare. Chance had never been known as a ladies man, but before women just didn't notice him because he was a bit of a loner. After receiving the scar women began to shudder at the sight of him.

The second blow to the head proved to be more deadly. Chance had traveled to Marsum with Sir O, one of Lord Avery's knights who had been part of the original rescue posse. During the course of escorting a young lady friend of Sir O's the city was invaded by foul Minotaur beasts. One such beast entered the Stony Pony tavern, a tavern frequented by Sir O and many other business men. Chance threw a hand axe and struck the beast directly in the throat. The thick hide left the beast with a glimmer of life left. The beast charged Chance and clubbed him in the face with an axe. The blow sent chance to the floor and his world spun. Chance lay bleeding to death on the floor while Sir O and Tim-Tim, another of the original posse, finished the beast. Sir O saved Chance's life on the floor of the Stony Pony by invoking the healing arts of his god.

This critical blow changed Chance's life forever. First off and undying loyalty to Sir O for saving his life bloomed. While Chance has never pledged himself to Sir O, he is pledged to Lord Avery, Chance is always first to defend Sir O's honor and look out for Sir O's squire. Secondly Chance put his fencing steel down as a hobby weapon and picked up a bastard sword, some heavy armor, and a shield. Whereas Chance used to dance around flipping off of tables and throwing axes, now Chance move methodically slow through the field of battle hacking everything to pieces in a rather brutal manner.

Most recently, SF this week, Chance and his band of adventures stumbled on a tribe of barbarians in the Sea of Grass. The barbarian tribe respected Chances battle wounds, even revered them, and was awe struck by his fire eating skills. Chance drank enough for four men, and smoked until his eye stung. Lost in merriment, something he had not known since childhood, Chance blacked out with glee. In the morning chance found himself to be lying with a stunningly beautiful tribal woman. Upon stumbling out into the morning light the chief announced that Chance and Tim-Tim had married into the tribe the night before. Tim-Tim hadn't a clue what was happening. Chance looked to see if his way more beautiful wife than he deserved was happy with the marriage. She revered his scares and broad shoulders. Chance learned she was the envy of the tribe for having married such a seasoned and exotic warrior. Chance would have planted stacks and lived the rest of his life within the community were it not for his current assignment and pledge to Lord Avery.

Indeed, luck stayed with Chance's side yet again for as chance and his new wife began to set up camp one night after five nights of travel, distant war fires signaled the tribe had been besieged. Knowing that the group had multiple parties pursuing them, Lord Avery's banner men and their new wives pressed their horses hard the next day. All for not though as a small scouting party found Chance and the party. A battle ensued, during which a signal horn was sent. Sir Hughes swung his sword right before the gnoll breathed air into the horn, but the blow came up short, and the sound echoed through the sea of grass. Within minutes more gnolls swarmed out of nowhere. The fight proved to be brutal for the group. Sir Hughes nearly got his throat ripped out by a hound, and Tim-Tim lost his riding horse and almost lost his consciousness while being swarmed by gnolls and hounds.

Now the group is on the run. Half the party is already out of breath from the quick bit of divine healing the party did after the skirmish. Out of breath, out of time, and nowhere to hide the group is now rushing through the sea of grass hoping to reach the great elven forest of the northwest (that is seriously what it is called!) before the gnolls can track them down.

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