D&D6: Trading a Half orc for a Half elf?

The jury has returned a verdict on the Arcane Knight and finds the class “sucktastic”. It doesn’t seem to do anything well… Your spells don’t offer you any buffs to enhance your lousy melee abilities so you wind up being mediocre at fighting and spell casting. I liked old Glaber as a character, but he’s found a new job and we’re saddled with a half elf paladin of all things! I’ll let Black Jack explain it…

Dear Friar Ignatius,

It had not been me intent t’ write ye again so soon, but thar be developments o’ which I wish t’ apprise ye.

We be discussin’ our next move when Glaber sets t’ rantin’: “T’ rest o’ you can do what you want; I’m headin’ back t’ t’ nomad camp. They lost their previous half-orc guardians and need someone t’ protect them. I talked with t’ old woman before we left and she said t’ job be mine if I want it.” Poor sod musta been out in t’ sun too long. Ah well, don’t let t’ door hit ye in t’ arse on t’ way out, says I. Should come as no surprise. Our band be crawlin’ with hobbits, you can’t find a decent mug a grog in a thousand miles and now some elf lass has attached herself t’ t’ group. I’ve half a mind t’ be lookin’ for a job in this camp meself!”

Well, we charted a course t’ t’ nomad camp. We’d not taken five steps when this bloody half-elf steps out o’ yon bushes, blatherin’ about some vision his god done bestowed on him. Somethin’ along t’ lines o’ us needin’ “his help against these fiends”. Nearly punched him in t’ nose did I. What use be this god what can’t send him a vision in time t’ actually take part in t’ fightin’? And here be t’ salt in t’ wound Ignatius; he’s a paladin o’ all thin’s! By Shub Niggurath’s hairy teat, rather I be puttin’ up with another druid than one o’ them cleric wannabes! Eryrmai be his moniker. Send word if ye has heard tell o’ him.

Me mind finds itself considerin’ t’ fates o’ poor Lefty and Stumps what we abandoned on some puma-infested isle nigh on a week ago now. Closure, I’d find, in buryin’ their remains and commendin’ their souls t’ t’ Tentacled Whisperer o’ Impossible Secrets. Like as not, we can find out where them other magic gates lead too.

Raise a mug o’ grog for me Ignatius,

Black Jack Barcelona


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