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BGEE: Indira Lightfoot and Her Bad Band


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I’ve just started a new playthrough of BG1. Except for trying out the BGEE a few hours at launch, when it was very buggy. it has been several years since I played it. I spent a good two hours or so creating my party for this playthrough, using the core rules, normal difficulty.


I knew I wanted to do a different playthrough, so for the very first time, I’ve made up a party of all ”madmen and maniacs”, in essence, of Chaotic Neutral alignment, according to BGEE, ”the most difficult alignment to play”. I needed a roleplaying challenge. Since I know most companions anyway, I rolled up a full party from the get-go by picking multiplayer.


So, what would fit a CN-party (well one char is actually NE)? What kind of roleplaying? My immediate thought was a party that don’t care much for people or their property. So, I went with a band of sneaky thugs and spell slingers, all interested in stealing pretty much anything and burning gold pieces like it was firewood. So, these guys are crazy, to be sure, but they are still smart and clever when it comes to their own selfish goals, riding roughshod over any law and reasonable decency. There will be blood, and this band of adventurers will hardly notice it. However, with one exception, they are not actually the forebearers of wisdom and charisma. In order to haul all this loot, I’ve made them strong too.


Their leader is obsessed with objects and breaking and entering. She also loves a good sword fight, preferrably with a long sword in each hand: Indira Lightfoot, the human swashbuckler.


She’s accompanied by three dwarves:

-Sparkur, a NE priest of Talos, lover of storms and mayhem. He only heals those in Indira’s gang because he sees them all as a vehicle for his service to Talos. His wisdom and ambition makes him the grey eminence, the real leader behind Indira, pulling strings. He loves the mace and shield setup.

-Anarcon, a charismatic fighter-wizard slayer, a hater of mages and book-readers, including libraries like that in Candlekeep. With his warhammer and crossbow he’s out to eradicate those elements in favour of ale, stonework and piling glittering hoards to defend.

-Poker Swiftshaven, another fighter-wizard slayer, basically just Anarchon’s right-hand man. Poker lacks all charisma and wisdom, but he’s strong as an ox, and can keep on going for hundred miles. He’s obsessed with his onehanded axe. He uses it like a knife, really. He eats with it, and he uses it to do Anarcon’s biddings.


As things would have it, Anarchon, has managed to enroll two Elven sorcerers in his quest to kill all mages and sages. And they both share his passion for bashing in top hat spectacles with a vengeance:

-Tulippa, the sorcerer. She has cold and suave. She’s almost systematic in her unique approach to body language. She slides over floors, like some floating apparition. And she has this thing for herbalism and plants, and sometimes even potions. Her only weapon is a set of darts, which she’s decent at, but no more.

-Furia, the dragon disciple. She says that she has dragon blood coarsing through her veins, but nobody believes her. She’s taken for a weird scorceress with a temper, throwing tantrums now and then, that’s all. Like Tulippa, her only weapon is a bunch of decently aimed darts. She’s eager to prove everyone wrong, that she didn’t pick up fire-breathing at some roadshow.



In the words of Indira Lightfoot:

”Our adventure had already started when we decided that Candlekeep was the foulest place in the entire world. Everything about it was futile, except one or two items, of course. It’s not exactly like they use their things for anyting, anyway. So, I decided to relieve them of a few items. I told my party to remain downstairs in Candlekeep Inn, occupying patrons there, and that stupid innkeeper, while I went upstairs for some well-deserved enrichment.

Two guests were asleep in the first two rooms, so those were easy pickings, even the locked drawer."



"Then I snuck deeper in, but it was far too light for my liking. I failed to hide in shadows, and to make matters worse, in one of the rooms, the lock was jammed. Even with an old lockpick, it was useless. Then I stepped into a room, where a seemingly wealthy, but banal, individual, was pondering over something insignificant. It didn’t say much. In fact, he even had a hard time looking me in the eye. So, once when he looked away, I sneezed in order to misdirect him, and managed to pick the lock to his chest. He didn’t notice, he just stood there."



"Next time his glance wandered off, I opened the lid and helped myself to a ring and a pouch full of gold, but now he did see me, and began howling like a pierced pig. I rushed for the stairs with my new ”findings”, only to meet a watchmen on the landing. He growled ”halt!”, but I swept passed him in my black clothing and hood, unrecognizable. When I came down into the tavern, the rest of my party knew that time was of the essence, so we bid farewell in haste and left the sorry excuse for an inn.”


In the words of Sparkur:

”Our thieving madwoman for a leader was done cleaning out that awful establishment, so I suggested going over to the priest quarters. We had guards passing us, not knowing of our unlawful deeds just a minute ago. Everywhere, there are men in robes that claim to be offering us tuition, but they are nothing but fools, pawns in a power game they’ve already lost. I shouldered one of those fellows so hard, he’ll wake up with a bad bruise on the morrow. One of the cows we passed dropped some dung while we passed it, so I repaid it in kind and flicked a booger onto its beady eye. It mooed in frustration. I ushered everybody inside the priest house, when disaster struck! A lackey stepped out of the shadows."



"Furia told him to leave us be, as we had more pressing concerns, and she meant it. He tried to shock us with his declaration of his intention of killing us, but we already knew that, and began arranging for his swift demise in earnest.

Furia cast sleep, Tulippa a magic missile, and I went for my beloved bolt of lightning. Our magic users both did what they should, and the shankman went down, and Anarcon struck him in the head with is staff. Unofortunately, at the same time my lightning bolt ran him through, and then it was reflected against the opposite wall at a very bad angle, so it came back at us in an instance."



"Next thing I know, I woke up at the temple of Oghma, and I saw the rest of my party get revived, one by one. If it hadn’t been for the unwordly quick Indira - How she managed to escape all that electricity I’ll never know - we’d all been dead for good by now. Almost all our stolen gold went down the drain for paying the stingy priest, though. I suppose I owe Lightfoot for this. Some adventurers we are. So far, we’re just a bunch of unlucky sods.”





I hope you enjoyed it, and this is actually what happened, for real, pretty hilarious. You don't get a worse start than this!

Edited by IndiraLightfoot
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*** "The words of someone who feels ever more the ent among saplings when playing CRPGs" ***


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omg, that font  :x never buying anything from these guys

Let's Play The Temple of Elemental Evil (Complete)
Let's Play Neverwinter Nights and Hordes of the Underdark

Let's Play Baldur's Gate II: Shadows of Amn

I was struggling to understand ths until I noticed you are from Finland. And having been educated solely by mkreku in this respect I am convinced that Finland essentially IS the wh40k universe.

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omg, that font  :x never buying anything from these guys


The font looks the same as original, but they did increase the font size so you don't need a magnifying glass to read it on 1080p+ resolutions.


But it does look massive now on Indira's screenshots, maybe she is playing on lower resolution and the font goes mental as a result?

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2 Mirtul, 1368, in the words of Indira Lightfoot:

”We made sure that the agitated guard was gone, and then we rested at Candlekeep Inn, the very place I had looted. The only resourceful watcher in the keep told me about his cousin’s letter. Iron shortage is striking the south hard, it seems. I was trying to follow up on that, but couldn’t, because those awful seagulls shrieking all the time. The only words I wedged in were: ’Use them filthy birds for moving target practice. You sure could use the archery skill improvement. By the way; we need money. Need any help?’. Then I went inside the barracks, after he muttered something about Fuller having missed so many times that he needed more crossbow bolts.”

”We had an idea where those bolts could be, but no sooner had we left the barracks when I saw some coins glittering in a water barrel. Nice! However, the gatewarden didn’t think that it was a worthy pursuit, and said we’d better pay Gorion a visit instead. He had been asking for us. Gah! We’re not his little helpers. Unfortunately, our three little dwarves think we are Reevor’s servants instead. Anarchon insisted that we should help him kill rats. Poker’s eyes widened just by the prospect of it, so we had no choice.”

”Why didn’t those two spoiled fat-cats in there just eat them? Something’s weird with those felines. And 5 gp for that? I’ll let you meet Moradin’s hammerfall in your sleep, next time, Reevor. And Phlydia and Dreppin really ought to deepen their relationship, instead of keeping hiding books in hay, instead of rolling in it. And, really, his cow is sick again? I tell you what made him sick. It’s them two playing farmer and wife, and speaking of such drab couples. A nobleman treatened me with Candlekeep’s constabulary if I discussed trinkets with his wife yet again. How adorable!”

”For the third time, we went back to that forsaken inn, this time to look in every nook and cranny for some bolts for Fuller. Poker was juggling Anarcons warhammer, forgetting it’s not the same thing as his light one-handed axe, and wouldn’t you know it? It hit that whimsical elf Firebead right in the knee, and he got surprisingly mad for being an elf, almost as raging as Furia. Anarcon managed to smooth things over, thankfully, but Winthrop wasn’t helping with his ’his hit’s clean as an elven arse’.”

”We were to look for them bolts in the bunkhouse, or so we thought, because another shankman assualted us without qualms. Great outlook on life, that. Furia got a huge gash over her hip, and wasn’t happy, upon which Tulippa uttered with the saddest of timings: ”Don’t worry about me.” She is demented. Well, at least her magic missiles made short work of Garbos. What genuine man has his name embroided on his collar? Fishy fellow.”




”After Sparkur healed our over-heated Furia, we went to the sick house, and Tulippa managed to flirt her way to a free potion. That priest of Oghma is like wax in her hands. Oh, and Karan barged in and said that there are people in Candlekeep set on killing me. Yeah? No kidding! Give me new tidings. When Karan left, I took the opportunity to open the priest’s safe drawer and steal another potion.”

”Outside, Imoen, that pesky child that always gets under my skin ran up to me, and I told her to do Winthrop’s beds instead. She called me a ’rumduke,’ though. She’s witty, I’ll give her that. Then the old fool Gorion got hold of me, and said that I should pack immediately and leave. Our lives are out stake. But first he reckoned that it was a good idea to get some equipment from Winthrop. That’s when I realized that I could buy new bolts for Fuller there.”



”Said and done. After using up all our booty for some new weapons, and of course, one expensive piece of armour. Anarcon got his way and had a nice chain mail all by himself, whereas we get to arm our bodies with sack-cloth. At least, Fuller was happy for the bolts. He didn’t notice they were different than the ones he lost, after I’d dipped them into one of those barrels the Gatewarden hate and then scraped them along the garden wall.”

”Gorion ushered us out on the eve, but we didn’t get far into the night. Some frightening armoured man had his eyes set on me. He called me a mere ’ward’ that he wanted handed over, like a commodity. His ogre minions were mean beasts, and a wizard shot a quick spell at me, almost ripping off my shoulder in the process. Gorion screamed at me, while he was keeping this motley crew at bay, telling me that I should flee. At that point, I was already leaving him to his fate.”

”My little gang hunkered in the bushes, as if peeing, and we sat silently like that for hours, until birds started to chirp and Imoen snuck up and demanded to join our band. I told her to go back to Winthrop, and be his hotel keeper, while the three dwarves couldn’t stop sniggering, and she was very upset, thinking we’d been friends all this time. I only said that over the years so that I could get her to steal things for me when I didn’t have the time. Sad, really. Friendly Arm Inn, Jaheira and Khaleid. No thanks! If they were Gorion’s friends, I’ll stay miles and miles away from that place.”


Edited by IndiraLightfoot
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*** "The words of someone who feels ever more the ent among saplings when playing CRPGs" ***


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In the words of Sparkur:

”The readers at Candlekeep will never let us in ever again, and good riddance! After one last look at the sea and those dreadful cliffs, we’re heading inland, perhaps to Beregost. Except for a wolf, it’s all been a quiet walk so far. Two darts from our elven sorcerers and a fantastic bolt from Anarcon, straight in between the eyes, made short work of him. Unfortunately, his pelt was tarnished and worthless.”

”When I said it was quite, I spoke too soon. We had been walking in circles and was almost back at the site where Indira and Gorion was ambushed, when a black bear stepped into our grove and growled. I hate them fleabags, so I used my trusted bolt of lightning yet again, and this time to great effect. Furia finished it off with a magic missile. It was still 10 feet away. Still, yet another animal with a ruined fur. By the way, good thing we happened to return to the place where Gorion fell. He had useful items on himself, a pathetic note – even the enemies left behind a few nice things. Finally, Indira has got some armour and a decent bow. It was a good spot to rest at as well. The chances of those enemies returning there so swiftly is nil.”

”We started to head south, when another wolf flashed his teeth, so we fired bolts and darts at him. No real luck this time, as Poker would soon find out. He took his beloved axe and smashed it hard on the thick-headed wolf, and wouldn’t you know it? It broke. He was shocked, so he took to pounding the beast’s head into pulp, while Indira broke its neck with a huge swing from the longsword in her left hand. We tried to settle Poker afterwards, but he was inconsolable. He loved that axe. Damn those hard-skulled wolves, now we have a crying dwarf at our hands. Sweet misery! Furia and I took care of the next wolf before Poker would slaughter the thing with his bare hands.”




”Accidentally, this meant that we saved a messenger in distress. He was to herald the news of caravan raiders northeast of Beregost. A quarter of an hour later, we met with two daft fellows, Xzar and Montaron. They wanted us to accompany them to investigate the iron shortage in the south. We dismissed them, of course. If we are going to do that we wouldn’t want them around. We’re not into sharing. Hot on their heels, a plump man named Kolssed, which I accidentally called ’Kolossal’ instead, said he was helpful. We told him of our ambush last night, but he had only advice to give in return. ’Thanks for nothing,’ we said and left him to his own devices. As if this wasn’t enough, at dusk an old man came walking down the road between us and Friendly Arm Inn, which I insisted on visiting despite Indira protesting wildly. We questioned his intentions when he started to put his nose where it doesn’t belong. All these run-ins seem like anything but co-incidences.”

”In the dead of night, we were passing through the woods north of Lion’s Way when three disgusting beast assaulted us. They were awfully fast. Furia’s sleep spell came in handy, as did Tulippa’s darts. When we investigated them; I saw they were gibberlings, but very hard to recognize as such, since they were disease-ridden. Two hours later, a ranger called Aoln, warned us of more wolves and gibberlings in these parts, and my golly, was he right?!”


Day 3, 4 Mirtul 1368, in the words of Sparkur:

”We travelled north to Friendly Arm Inn, just to replenish our darts and bolts, get some ale and food in our bellies, and most importantly, find a new axe for our dear whimpering Poker. Perhaps this rain will calm him down. I was wrong. The darn rain made us miss the gate and the entire inn. We ended up north of it and ran into a huge hobgoblin, which I fried with a well-aimed bolt. He had some useful things on him, though. Armour and weapons for everyone! Moreover, in this thunderstorm, Poker took the opportunity to bury the remains of his axe in a small bog, singing for it before it was laid to rest like a votive offering placed under water for some sea goddess.”


”The inn guards reminded us of the rules, which we pretended to accept."


"Straight afterwards, Indira snuck into a farmer’s house and swept it clean, right under the nose of the farmer himself. The commoners spoke of an army by Nashkel. Another man, Tarnesh, approached us, addressing us as ”friends”, at which we replied that we were not."



"And then, in front of all the guards he began to attack us. He made illusionary duplicates of himself, and then he made Anarcon and most guards panic. Tulippa resisted that spell, and Indira chopped his head off. It was not a pretty sight, but it had to be done. The guards even thanked us afterwards. So much for their rules. When their lives were at stake, the rules apparently could be broken. We found a bounty notice on his body. Once again, Indira was the target. She said that this is becoming flattering.”

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*** "The words of someone who feels ever more the ent among saplings when playing CRPGs" ***


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In the words of Indira:

”A moping man named Jopi in Friendly Arm Inn said that the roads to Baldur’s gate has been cut off, and that Dorn wanted me to fetch an ale for him, How rude! Another drunkard said that the metal in weapons and tolls are getting so bad that they break. This couldn’t explain why Poker’s axe broke, though. He had dragged that axe around everywhere for three years. It simply couldn’t take it, no more, if I would hazard a guess. Oh, and how’s this for a tall tale? Nessie, the innkeeper, claimed that the old and fortress-like setting of Friendly Arm Inn was once the hold of a powerful, undead priest of Bhaal, the god of murder, and the founders of the inn, had been adventurers like us, and vanquished him (when he got weaker by the death of his god), only to take over the place, which they turned into an establishment. A likely story.”


”Of course, we were bound to run into Khaleid and Jaheira as well. They had already figured out that Gorion was dead, and they were worried about me, as if I was a child that’s run away from home. In a twisted way, that’s almost true. They wanted to escort me to some mayor, and have me do their bidding. I have my own show to run, so I declined. It felt good seeing them wearing their disappointment on their sleeves. On the top floor of Friendy Arm Inn, Landrin insisted I do a huge favour for her. I was to get her husband’s boots, squash big spiders, and bring a wine bottle from her cellar in Beregost, in a house west of Jovial Juggler in, all for 75 gold. We are heading in that direction, though. Mayhap, we check this out; It’s very good to know that the building may be pretty empty of people, then I can swipe it clean, just like I have done in the rooms here. One foolish nobleman even gave me his golden pantaloons for free, just on the assumption, I was part of the staff. He must have been blind as a bat. In another room, I nicked a ring, which a woman named Joia in the courtyard said was hers, and she could prove it too. However, my best find was a battle axe, with an ashen haft, and treated with the same oil that Poker always insist on caring in his underwear. He didn’t show any thankfulness when I have it to him, but his twirling of his moustache increased in frequency after he had juggled it for a few minutes, so apparently the axe was good enough.”




Day 4, 5 Mirtul, 1368:

”After dealing with bands of hobgoblins outside Friendly Arm Inn, we finally left that wretched place and went south again. One hour into a forest, where we followed a craggy cliff, Sparkur said he could sense something nearby, and he cast protection from evil on himself. A quarter of an hour later, the spell dissipated, and so far, we hadn’t come across anything remotely hostile in our vicinity, at least if we disregard that chipmunk that landed on Tulippa’s shoulder, which immediately began to nibble on her left earlobe. It must have been out of its wits – Tulippa, who still didn’t show any emotion, took it by one of its hind legs and discarded it, clinically, in an old stub that she jammed shut with an incantation.  Bust just as we thought we were out of the woods, a huge ogre lumbered forth and grunted: ’Me smash in your face.’ Good thing that we already were on high alert. I managed to hit it first, with a well placed arrow straight into its side, whereas our elven sorceresses let it taste a dual magic missile assault, both landing nicely, straight into its hairy chest. Sparkur finished it off, two seconds later, with yet another of his lightning bolts. They still give me nightmares, but so far, out in the great outdoors, it has worked wonders. The ogre had two belts around his waist. After Tulippa had identified them as a girdle of protection vs piercing missiles and a gender bender belt. I took the former, and hid the latter. I don’t want to see any cruel pranks during our next rest.”

Day 5, 6 Mirtul, 1368:

”Hours later, when we were all bushed from all xvart and gibberling ambushes, we found a child alone by a fir tree. As we approached it, the little boy threatened us with his mother belting us, and when we told him to get lost all over, he threatened us again, this time with his big brother Albert. Kids – sometimes they are quite crafty.”

”Soon thereafter, we ran into yet another courier. He was on this way to the gov of Beregost, to tell him that reinforcements are on their way to counter the imminent attack from Amn. Unfortunately, we also ran into a dire wolf that nearly killed Sparkur. Good thing he knows how to heal, even in the fray of battle.  All’s well, that end’s well.”

”Finally we reached Beregost, where we were accosted by Golin Vend, who offered us a full tour of the town. We didn’t need any of that. We can help ourselves to the things we need. We went down the west end of Beregost. I left the rest of my band outside a locked house and relieved a farmer’s widow of her drab heirlooms. Then, after a nagging boy upstairs in a house by his sleeping father, where a trap almost got the better of me, I reached what I was certain must be Landrin’s homestead. I didn’t see her husband about, but the door was unlocked. I got a bit suspicious, so I had my entire band enter the premises, and wouldn’t you know it? There were a gang of gigantic spiders that had made Landrin’s place home."



"It was a bitter fight, where my sorceresses dug out scrolls, which they normally loathe to do. Their magic missiles from them certainly helped, but this soon turned into a very physical struggle. Anarcon and Furia died almost on the same blink of an eye, well into the fight. It was horrific to see them succumb to the potent poison. This was a close call, and so far all we got to show for it is a spider corpse (which Landrin weirdly enough wanted to see) and in an open coffer lay those other things she wanted me to fetch: worn boots and a wine bottle. I have a feeling she wanted her husband dead. I just hope there’s more in here. I have two stone cold friends that I have to resurrect somehow, and I have a feeling it will be dire costs and heavy lifting involved.”



”At the Jovial Juggler, a drunk dwarf lamented his loss of a magic cloak in Cloakwood. Funny, but not funny enough to laugh at and then get killed by that mad Gurke. I was selling stuff there. And a fellow named Bjornin had been punished hard by a mean band of half-ogres in the mountains to the south-west, and would be happy if we could avenge him. Not in this sad state, we can. To make matters worse, in a house I had planned robbing, Firebead Elvenhair occupied! And he wanted us to buy a book in a shop around here, and he would reimburse us more if we deliver it to him. As much as we detest books, the hope of profit is certainly alluring.”

”To ponder over his offer, I went for a drink in Feldepost’s Inn, just across the street, and by the weirdest of co-incidences, the bartender had the very book Elvenhair wanted, and for a mere 3 gp at that. I have a feeling Firebead knew about that all along. He’s far too good for his own good. Meanwhile, a tipsy noblewoman flirted with Sparkur, now, that’s a first! Soon, however, a ghastly dwarf by the name of Marl, began pestering us. I said that the bar fit all of us. He kept on going, though. He said he hated adventurers like us. Well, I said we’re making things right too, in between and the looting and the killing. Apparently, he had lost his son, who went out adventuring. I didn’t care. I said that everyone goes their own path. I won’t be held accountable for what fate deals. I added that the lad probably just followed his own calling. Then some sloshed man supported me. I didn’t have more time for this, so I bought the piss-ants something to drink, and that made them all go soft and cheer for his son Kenneth. Too bad Furia and Anarcon are lying dead outside. They missed quite a moment there, instead of just having flies for company.”

”In Kagain’s shop, we found a man to our liking. He would pay us a lot of gold for us serving as his mercenaries, protecting his deliveries from bandits, and to find Etan’s son. Unfortunately, we hadn’t the time to get to know him better. We left with regret, and then went to give that dizzy elf his coin tome. He was happy enough. Just the scroll case alone made it all worth it.”

”Then I took care of the awfully arduous journey back to Friendly Arm Inn. It took 10 hours, and the stench from Furia and Anarchon in particular was horrific! Thankfully, the fee at the temple of wisdom were the same as in Candlekeep. They must have a cartel going. It took quite some time, so I returned all the stuff to Landrin, who was suspiciously happy for the things I fetched. No word about her husband, a fine widow maker, that. That rest at the inn was the best so far.”


Day 8, hour 6, Mirtul 9, 1368:

”After half a day, all six of us could return to Beregost to pick up where we left the thread earlier. We hadn’t alked many steps when a cheeky girl named Neera all of the sudden step into our midst and says she’s one of us! One second later, a convoy of deep-browed men demand that we move aside, so that they could take her. When he heard, we couldn’t trade her in for gold, we refused, and then they attacked. The skirmish had barely begun when Anarchon’s warhammer snapped."






"Anarchon simply swapped over to a morning star and yawned: ’Go on then.’ It was an easy fight, Ekandor and those thayan thugs went down without any real struggle. Neera was very sorry afterwards. She had no money to offer us for our expedient service, though. It turned that she was nothing but a wild mage. At least, it’s much better than a wizard. So, we let her off the hook, this time.”


*** "The words of someone who feels ever more the ent among saplings when playing CRPGs" ***


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I don't care what Resolution those old IE games have, there is something about their graphics and visual style that is unique. I miss them so much (ugly warts, tiling and wonky avatar animations included) ;(


Nice story telling so far :)

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“He who joyfully marches to music in rank and file has already earned my contempt. He has been given a large brain by mistake, since for him the spinal cord would surely suffice.” - Albert Einstein

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Thank you, Gorth! Having taken a break for several years from BG1+2, and then returning now, I'm just amazed how full of atmosphere and RPG-passion these games are. Their ambience is pretty magical. Sometimes, over at the PoE backer beta forums, I read about people praising IWD1 or IWD2 more, but those I have replayed pretty recently, and they merely achieve a fraction of that (well, in glimpses here and there, much more, of course). Another thing: This session has taken me 10 hours so far. Two bad (hard) fights have made party members lagging behind xp-wise, and if you look closely, you'll see that my main pc, the swashbuckler, actually levelled up after the fight with those thayan thugs. I love this aspect of the BG series. It takes ages to level up. Another thing: Except for some weird magical pants and two gimmicky belts, I have yet to acquire a magical item. Oh no, hang on, I found a third belt on that ogre, which is the only useful magical item, like I said, in 10 hours! It all strengthens the sense of achievement. It's simply brilliant. :)


EDIT: I'm usually a completionist, so I certainly take my time playing and even re-playing CRPGs. I want to hear what the NPCs say, read all the story bits, listen to the narrator, etc. Other players probably would have done this in three hours, I'm sure.

Edited by IndiraLightfoot
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*** "The words of someone who feels ever more the ent among saplings when playing CRPGs" ***


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I am little sorry that you dont pick forum members as party members as Tigranes done but as long as you having fun I am happy! Looks like its going well for you so far. And good RP as well.

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I'm the enemy, 'cause I like to think, I like to read. I'm into freedom of speech, and freedom of choice. I'm the kinda guy that likes to sit in a greasy spoon and wonder, "Gee, should I have the T-bone steak or the jumbo rack of barbecue ribs with the side-order of gravy fries?" I want high cholesterol! I wanna eat bacon, and butter, and buckets of cheese, okay?! I wanna smoke a Cuban cigar the size of Cincinnati in the non-smoking section! I wanna run naked through the street, with green Jell-O all over my body, reading Playboy magazine. Why? Because I suddenly may feel the need to, okay, pal? I've SEEN the future. Do you know what it is? It's a 47-year-old virgin sitting around in his beige pajamas, drinking a banana-broccoli shake, singing "I'm an Oscar Meyer Wiene"

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In Sparkur’s words:

”We distracted a few more townsfolk, while Indira checked out their containers. No great finds so far in the homes of Beregost – a town of paupers, I gather. Anarcon was thirsty, so we stepped inside Red Sheaf Inn, and, almost on cue, yet another dwarf runs up to us, only to be a big nuisance. Sometimes I lament the existence of my kin almost as much as that of the rest of the humanoids. He presented himself as Karlat, and he was all set on killing us. The stocky fellow was surprisingly powerful. Tulippa got in a magic missile on him, quickly and effectively, and dear Furia lobbed one of those dream darts. I’ve never seen a double lip piercing before. Now, I got to see one. Karlat got in two horrendous swings on Indira, who would have died, hadn’t she gulped a potion of healing. Anarchon didn’t want to be any worse, and took his morning star and crushed the left knee of the poor bugger. I did the honours of finishing him off with a bludgeoning blow to the skull with my mace, which so far hasn’t failed me. Karlat was of course yet another bounty hunter. Indira is apparently worth 350 gp now, which is but one day’s work for her in Beregost, so that’s still far too cheap. Around the corner, we met Garrick, who said that Silke, who just had dismissed us, would pay us 300 gold if we were to serve as her bodyguards. We always need the money, so I said yes. As soon as we returned to Silke Rosena, she lowered the reward to 200 gp, and was aloft with disregard for us. I tricked Indira and my minions into killing her, claiming she was intent on killing Garrick. It was over in mere seconds. She didn’t get a hit in. Heh, her weapon broke. Join the club! That was almost funny. Garrick took the whole thing extraordinarily well. He even wanted to join our party, referring to the fact that we can’t be as evil as Silke. We shooed ’im away. Furtively, I leered. The degree of evil is always underestimated, my friend, always.”


”Over at the smithy, the owner had some really nice bolts, arrows and darts, except for two extra warhammers for Anarcon and one extra mace for me. He claimed, they were magical, and Tulippa confirmed this to be true. So we blew almost 1,000 gp on missiles meant to sting a little extra. I hope it’lll pay off over time. Oh, that Silke dropped a magic staff as well, which Tulippa identified over at the Jovial Juggler as capable enough to deal damages to magically protected beings. Good find, that. Unfortunately, none of us uses it, so we’ll sell it.”


Day 9, hour 4, 10 Mirtul, 1368:

”Indira had us sneak back to the smithy and loot the place. The door even stood open, and no guards. We got a magic spear and loads of weapons."




"The very same night, she broke into the house of that drab elf from Candlekeep and plenty of other homes in Beregost. But finally her luck came to an end. A young lady saw her steal her hard-earned coins from the chest from her bedside. A guard rushed in, yelling that he served the Flaming Fist. Indira refused to pay, and claimed she was going to fight him, took a hit on her bowstring guard, and ran passed him, and disappeared with us into the misty morning streets."



"However, we were outsmarted in that Wizard inn. Someone we learned’s named Zhurlong pickpocketed 35 gold from Indira. It was easy pickings. We can only congratulate him on his audacity. There’s no honour among thieves."



"Upstairs at the inn, a man called Spen said that the Firewine Ruins is a deathrap. Sounds like our kind of place. Two room from him, on the other side of the hallway, a fantastic magic was locked inside one of the drawers. Tulippa could immediately tell it’s the infamous Stupefier! If you’re strong enough to wield it, the chances of it stunning enemies are great, and it would hit the undead and other unnatural beasts too. I am so happy that I cracked a smile straight over me face. I love this mace. Let’s discover skull trauma, ablations and lesions together, unabashedly. Around midday, we sold all our stolen weapons back to the naive smith for a hefty profit, which we used to increase our stash of magical bolts and darts. Naivety at its best. It may be raining, but the sunshine is beaming in me head.”



”A few hours later, it was almost midnight on the road through the woods south of Beregost, I had the chance to try out my new mace on two ogrillons, and it went smashingly! I had to heal Indira for a bit, as she took a punch straight to her face. Afterwards, I felt most enlightened. One of the ogrillons carried a letter by the way, but its courier, a halfling, had instead ended up as dinner for these savages. Tough luck for Mr Roe in Amn. Perhaps I’ll return it to its sender.”

Edited by IndiraLightfoot

*** "The words of someone who feels ever more the ent among saplings when playing CRPGs" ***


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Wow dont even remember that mace in BG1

I'm the enemy, 'cause I like to think, I like to read. I'm into freedom of speech, and freedom of choice. I'm the kinda guy that likes to sit in a greasy spoon and wonder, "Gee, should I have the T-bone steak or the jumbo rack of barbecue ribs with the side-order of gravy fries?" I want high cholesterol! I wanna eat bacon, and butter, and buckets of cheese, okay?! I wanna smoke a Cuban cigar the size of Cincinnati in the non-smoking section! I wanna run naked through the street, with green Jell-O all over my body, reading Playboy magazine. Why? Because I suddenly may feel the need to, okay, pal? I've SEEN the future. Do you know what it is? It's a 47-year-old virgin sitting around in his beige pajamas, drinking a banana-broccoli shake, singing "I'm an Oscar Meyer Wiene"

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Me neither! It's like the first time, I've picked a character that's intent on using maces, and then my main stumbled over it in a drawer. Well, it took two hours of searching through every home in Beregost, which was worth it for the RPGing alone, but this was certainly the icing on the cake. :)

*** "The words of someone who feels ever more the ent among saplings when playing CRPGs" ***


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Its from EE for sure. It was not in original game

I'm the enemy, 'cause I like to think, I like to read. I'm into freedom of speech, and freedom of choice. I'm the kinda guy that likes to sit in a greasy spoon and wonder, "Gee, should I have the T-bone steak or the jumbo rack of barbecue ribs with the side-order of gravy fries?" I want high cholesterol! I wanna eat bacon, and butter, and buckets of cheese, okay?! I wanna smoke a Cuban cigar the size of Cincinnati in the non-smoking section! I wanna run naked through the street, with green Jell-O all over my body, reading Playboy magazine. Why? Because I suddenly may feel the need to, okay, pal? I've SEEN the future. Do you know what it is? It's a 47-year-old virgin sitting around in his beige pajamas, drinking a banana-broccoli shake, singing "I'm an Oscar Meyer Wiene"

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In Indira’s words: ”In a gibberling-infested forest to the west of the road south of Beregost we ran into a handsome man, round about midnight. He introduced himself as Bub Snikt, and he said that he knew there are ogres nearby. When I asked him about the iron crisis, he just waved it off. He needn’t any metal when he’s hunting. Then he dove into the foliage again, like a predator ready for his next kill. It felt safe having him around, so we rested well into the next day in a glade full of apples and berries. A squirrel bounced here and there, and it displayed some odd behaviour. Furia thought it was trying to warn us about something. Perhaps it was, as we left our makeshift camp behind, we came upon a submerged house in a boglet. And then suddenly, out of the sepia-coloured water rose an undead horror. It was a ghast, swinging its claws like a windmill. Tulippa and Furia turned into a needle cushion, but it just kept going. However, finally, Anarcon sank his axe into its back, whereas Sparkur thudded his mighty mace into its chest cavity. The two weapons met with a loud clang, and the ghast was no more. It slid slowly back into the bog whence it came.”


”Nearby, we found the entrance to a cave. It was guarded by a gang of well-armed hobgoblins. One of them had some boots, with a name burnt onto the leather inside – ’Zhurlong’. Tulippa examined them and said that they increase the wearer’s stealth and…. I snatched them before she could finish that sentence. Zhurlong! That’s the thief that took 35 gp right out of my pocket. I guess we’re even now, with me walking around in his boots. The cave itself was small. A coffin-like larder sat in the middle of it, with five healing potions inside, plus a few coins, no doubt an emergency stash.”




”Later that day, we ran into trouble with the law again. A number of flaming fist mercenaries stopped us, and accused us of being bandits. Although I knew we’re far worse than that, I said that we too were on the hunt for bandits. When he asked who’d hired us, I needed a lie, quickly. I glanced around, saw a milestone that said ”Nashkel”, and claimed I served a lord Dolced from there. They bought the story and let us go. That was for the best, since they were very well armed.”




”Further south, after plenty of skirmishes with hobgoblins – they just seem to get better and better – we met an undead that hissed his wishes of eating our flesh. Soon enough, we met Lord Foreshadow, seemingly from Neverwinter, but he was from Waterdeep, as it happened. He just did some shopping in Neverwinter twice a year. I was just about to punch him when he bid us farewell and left us with his peculiar, but still strident gait.”




”In a small gorge, at dusk, we encountered a wolf, a single wolf. Furia had been wandering to the west by herself a bit, as she had heard a slithering nest of lizards she wished to acquaint herself with, when she yelled: ’That’s no ordinary wolf. Behold, its speed! Behold, its eyes! Beware!!’ I took out my finest arrows, and Tulippa ripped out her gilded darts. Sparkur, most predictably, let his huge bolt of lightning fly against the beast. It hit home first, and the horrific wolf was badly burnt. Anarcon plunged his axe in between its ears, and it didn’t even crack the skull up or draw blood. Luckily, the wolf’s ferocious attack missed Sparkur, its canine teeth unnaturally elongated. I let go of my arrow, and it was as if the wind itself sped it up, only to wedge it straight into the mouth of the gaping beast. It fell, silently, and no blood seeped out anywhere. Tulippa said that we’re lucky to be alive. This creature was a vampiric wolf – extremely rare and extremely dangerous.”




”Hobgoblins and kobolds co-operated in an ambush against us when darkness had descended over the sandstone cliffs. The kobolds fired their shortbows, while the hobgoblins held the frontline. Furia’s sleep together of the latter, and Anarcon’s fury of the former. Up on a ledge, we saw a half-naked geezer. He was trembling and mumbling in the drizzle, almost as if listening to music in a dance barn. He said he was a hermit called Portalbendarwinden, and he urged us to read a book. Big, big mistake!! I told him to stuff his mumbo-jombo and any books he had up someplace warm and wet. He became threatening, screaming about me aura, and that’s when it all snapped, not my bow string, but his neck.”




Day 12, 13 Mirtul, 1368:

”Eight hours later, we arrived in Nashkel. Now it’s just a matter of finding the mayor. To the west, we saw a farm. I picked the lock and broke into the kitchen, but as luck who’d have it, a wimpering boy squealed to his father that I had entered the premises. I managed to open two chests and take silver necklaces, money and a chainmail, but a darn drawer was squeaky, so old pops called for guards. And very soon, eight Amnian guards stood in the doorway. Good thing, I had practised somersaulting in the garden of Candlekeep. I simply jumped over the jolly bunch and fled. I snuck into a farm not far from it, and things went much better. Outside, on a ploughed field, a woman named Karp was unhappy with life. Crossing the bridge, a bizarre wizard, Edwin, wanted to hire us as assassins to kill a woman: Dynaheir. We asked for a reward lest we consider it, but he refused to give us any, and said that we should know our place. In the manor house, I had the party guard the bottom floor, while I ransacked the upper one. In a bed room, I met Samantha, a lovely noblewoman. She didn’t mind having me there at all. We had a cupper and some scones, and she gave me the tip of clearing out the monsters in Nashkel mines. All the while, Furia helped herself to some fine scrolls in the library downstairs.”


”A small boy by a wattle-and-daub wall was afraid of us, but still managed to stutter forth a story about crazy Captain Brage, who went missing a few days ago, and rumour has it he’s roaming the forests around Nashkel like a maniac. And speaking of maniacs. We met a sturdy man called Minsc. He said that his hamster didn’t like our tone. I squeezed it by its fat belly, making it eep, and replied: ’How do you like that tone, then?’ Already in a good mood after those weird incidents, I tricked a beggar into giving me a copper instead of the other way round. At the local inn, the Belching Dragon, when we’re having a well-deserved ale, a disgusting travelling sage by the name of Volo began to cite history for us. We wondered if he at least knew anything recent, and he mentioned the guard that had disappeared. I told him it was just a long version of the same story a child had just told me on the street. He was affronted and told us to leave. The Amnian guards in the barracks were also running us out of their sweaty establishment. The plump bounty officer Oublek, however, was very happy to see us, and gave us 200 gp in return for us having obliterated the bandits. One thing was weird, though. He called me Greywolf. Well, a reward is never just anyway. And mayor Ghastkill was really keen on us clearing out all the trouble in them Nashkel mines. Moreover, the storekeep asked for winterwolf pelts. How grand! And Rasaad, a sun soul monk, serving the Moonmaiden, was a paradox, if I ever saw one. I left him kicking about in that peasant crowd of mockery and misery.”




”No sooner did we step into Nashkel Mines second inn (dust-lung miners are thirsty), when Neira introduced herself as my killer. We had no choice but to fight her, unless we parted with a lot of coins. She must have been a powerful priest. I got held by a spell, the same went for Sparkur and Anarcon. So, Tulippa and Furia perforated that woman with magic missiles, even using scrolls to that end. Poker used his bow and arrow, which he’s reluctant to do – it’s not his forte. Still he managed to get an arrow in between that vizier, and she rattled into a metallic heap of blood and poignant perfume. Another inn-bound bounty hunter. I’m now worth 680 gp. I should kill myself and become rich as a lich. Neira wore a magical helmet – the eyes of truth, making the wearer immune to critical hits, and also it grants the gift of infravision. Sparkur insisted on him having it. When we spent the night at that inn, I had an awful dream. Gorion died over and over, and when I saw his killer in that huge armour, I knew I would get his powers - one day, my strength will surpass his. When I woke up, I mastered a new magical ability, draining my enemies. Sweet, I think. I celebrated this by looting each and every room at the tavern. Nothing but good old gold.”






Bonus pic:

Feargus Urqhart is immortalized in BG1, in the cemetery of Nashkel, on a tomb stone:


Edited by IndiraLightfoot

*** "The words of someone who feels ever more the ent among saplings when playing CRPGs" ***


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Bryy: Small world. :)


Day 14, 15 Mirtul, 1368:

In Sparkur’s words:

 ”From Beregost we ventured east, where the talk of the town lay – a big carnival. We shoved aside clinging and brusque performers by some stands and a stage. Next to sages and readers, we can’t think of anything worse. If I hear another poem about Nosferatu, I’ll flash some teeth! The first tent we saw, we entered. Inside was a merchant from foreign lands."




"He told us about the metal corrosion, and he also let us buy two potions that supposedly respectively enhance your strength and intelligence permanently. For 50 gp a piece, it was worth the risk. If he lied, we could always come back and liquidate him and his store. He wasn’t lying. Rather the potions were extremely potent, Tulippa told us. For instance, the red potion, would make you the smartest person alive for one full day, and with a huge magic resistance, but at the same time weak and unwise. He had more potions in one of his chests, with an emphasis on ’had’. The lock on the other chest, Indira couldn’t pick this time.”


”For such a talked about carnival, there are very few attendants. One visitor, Lestor, said it’s all due to the mines, where people work and die at more or less an industrial level. In another tent, a few customers endulged themselves on the black lotus, not a bad pastime at all. Oh, a mysterious man called Zeke waved us closer. He showed us an old stone statue of a female warrior. He claimed that he had a scroll that would remove the spell that had petrified the woman. He wanted 500 gp for it. I thought it was preposterous, but Indira and the sorceresses thought otherwise. They went ahead and bought the thing. I was furious, but Indira read the scroll, and to my great astonishment, the statue came alive before our very eyes. She clearly spoke her tongue in an ancient way. Her name was Branwen, a war-priest from Norheim Isles. Almost every tent contained a merchant and shelves and chests to rake. Unfortunately, Poker bumped into some weapon table in one of them, and two Amnian guards from the Council of Six lifted their weapons against us, at which I just happened to expunge the rash words: ’Die, scum’. We had no chance and fled out of a flapping canvas. One of the merchant tents in the centre had somebody buying magical elixirs. We made a small fortune on those, thanks to Tulippa’s knowledge. We even sold the powerful potions we just bought and made a nice profit.”


”In yet another tent, we caught Zordral, an evil mage, just about to kill a woman, Bentha. He even declared as much! I told the woeful bozo to stop. The world would be better off with him dead instead, so we can take his precious belongings. There was no time preventing him to kill Bentha. He cast mirror image, and then followed up with a panic spell that made Poker run around like a beheaded chook. After overcoming plenty of illusions and dodging magic missiles and other nefarious spells, we managed to take Zordral down. Indira hit him with both her swords, and that was enough to wipe that smug smile off his face. Bentha seems to have been a wizard as well. They both left behind magical robes that fit Furia and Tulippa perfectly.”




”Our celebration at the gambling tent tavern was dampened by a master pickpocket, Vitiare, who stole 100 gp from Anarcon. We have to get back on him for that, one day or another. In the forest north of the carnival, we heard bear-like grunts. Just as we were thinking about how much a bear-belt could be, an enormous ogre rushed towards us. He’s mouth was foaming, and his movements were twitchy and relentless. We countered this threat with our outdoor routine. A few shots, two magic missiles and my bolt of lightning. When the ogre had been softened up, we all approached it with weapons drawn, and just chopped it to death. That ogre was pretty flush.”



*** "The words of someone who feels ever more the ent among saplings when playing CRPGs" ***


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