Rolly-Polly Deathmatch #2: Roll for Initiative

[The Widowed]

Well, I'd had the idea of waiting until one poll was finished (after one week; in retrospect, two weeks was too long for a poll, and one week would have been plenty) before launching the next Rolly-Polly Deathmatch or designating somebody else to whip up the next Deathmatch. But honestly, the passing of Gary Gygax is weighing pretty heavily on my mind right now.

My Aunt Karla gave me my first and only red-boxed D&D Basic Set as my gift for the Christmas of 1981. I remember being too lazy to tear off the shrinkwrap for the first couple of days after I opened my gift, but I finally got curious enough to tear off the shrinkwrap, open the box and start reading. I was instantly hooked. I must have run my fighter through that "Dungeon by Numbers" adventure in the Basic Set's player book that I had everything memorized (..."Yeah, yeah, yeah, Magic Mouth, the riddle's answer is 'E'. Now give up the goods."), and I'd still keep playing it just because the dice made the game different everytime. Would my fighters kill the two goblins in the northernmost room or would he get swamped once they started calling in reinforcements? My entire collection of Choose Your Own Adventure books suddenly paled in comparison to Huxley the Fighter's endless pursuits of Bargle the Infamous. Then I tried my hand at Dungeon Mastery, and soon I convinced my brother Craig and my cousin Johnny to be my players. Craigorus the magic-user and Malok the fighter were born, and they had many Monty-Haul-ish escapades before eventually retiring as demigods at Level 36.

And that was a very good thing. Craig and I had a broken home with an abusive stepfather and a passive-aggressive mother who enabled him. Craig was and still is a very sociable "jock" type, so he had an army of friends for a support group. I was the smart, meek and reserved one, which my stepfather did not like at all; he wanted me to be another rowdy bully-boy like he (supposedly) was in his youth. Naturally, we can't change what we are--and I certainly wasn't going to change for that hateful bastard--so I got the brunt of the abuse. Fortunately, I had my two chief escapes from the miserable reality of my childhood and teen-age-hood: video games and D&D. D&D was easier on my allowance money, of course; aside from the other four boxed sets, the occasional module and some miniatures and dice here and there, all I really needed to buy were pencils and graph paper. So whenever things got too hellish at home, I could usually be found at either Little White Birch park or the Prairie Commons library with one or more Dungeon Master's Guides, rolling dice (to determine treasure and numbers of monsters in a room) and drawing up maps on graph paper. I'd never tell Mom or Stepbastard where I was going, of course. Then a weekend or two later I'd spring my brainchildren on Craig and Johnny. Or Dan and Daven. Or Justin and Susan. Or whoever was in my troupe at the time.

So now I see Gary Gygax as the kindly uncle with a farm out in the country where I could go whenever I just needed to get away from the hairtrigger tempers and the bullying and the yelling and the belittling insults and the unjustified belt-to-butt/thigh lashings and the bruises on my forearms and all the rest of the unpleasantness that made me dread going home after school...when it all got to be too much to bear (which was very often), I'd hike out to the park and pay a visit to Uncle Gary's world. Even though playing through an adventure which you created yourself kind of dilutes the surprises of traps and secret doors and unidentified magic items and whatnot, I always relished such imaginary outings, even if only for the savory prospect of rolling a Natural 20 while trying to ginsu a troll with my fighter's flaming sword. And it ensured that Craig and Johnny always got previously playtested homemade adventures, too.

Then the Enchanted Chasm opened in St. Ann and I found which bus I'd take to get to the Fantasy Shop in Kirkwood. I pretty much lived in those two game shops from then on (until the Enchanted Chasm closed its doors around 1991, anyway). And then I enlisted in the Air Force to get out of Mom and the Ogre's wretched and rancor-steeped apartment once and for all, and I ended up meeting new friends among my fellow enlistees (who just happened to be fellow gamer nerds and who still call me or email me to this day), and we ended up forming the best troupe I've ever run with. I had to leave the Air Force early, but sometimes I still assure Dobie and Screech that we'll all get back together so that Willard the thief and Wolflen the fighter can finally finish off the Shadow King and his ghastly armies of undead for the good of all Etheria.

And I owe pretty much all of that to Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson.

So this Deathmatch is in your honor, old man. So long, and thanks for all the 20-siders.

*stows the big, deplorable old history lesson and breaks out the DM's screen*


The descending sun seethed in the red skies over Ismir. Another battle had reached its terminus, and another region had fallen beneath the heels of Damodar's unhallowed army. Clenching the Black Orb joyfully in his cruel hand, Damodar surveyed the ruined land before him, her walls battered to rubble and her defenders relentlessly slaughtered like sheep in the lion's den.

"Yewbrook is now mine," Damodar leered with satisfaction, oblivious to the approval of his armored legions and the foul flock of harpies who hovered overhead. "and soon my vengeance shall be realized. Perhaps the next city will learn the value of compliance by the time I arrive. You there! What are you hiding? Bring it here!"

"Nothing, good master, nothing!" pleaded the crooked figure beneath the raggedy brown cloak, stepping slowly away while yet cradling his bundle to his breast. "This is only bread for my family. Please leave me my life, good sir!"

"That was not a request! You thieves, always taking things that don't belong to you...give it here!"

Seizing the linen bundle with his free hand, the warlord cruelly kicked the beggar away. With a resounding "thud" the beggar fell to the cobblestones, and Damodar unfurled the small burden to find...air, and nothing more within the wrappings of the false prize.

A deepening cackle emanated from under the vangrant's cowl as that withered form drew to full height and grew more, the shadows spreading from the split walls and congealing beneath him to form an infernal steed. Gone was the filthy brown cloak then, replaced with an intimidating duet of diabolically tailored black and red. The shifting form rose above Damodar, gesturing to the Black Orb with pallid, claw-nailed fingers as a single horn on the figure's head curled to scratch the heavens.

"Fool!" the figure admonished. "I had hoped to observe you for some time longer, Damodar, but you have forced my hand...."

"Yes, yes, I know," Damodar haughtily sneered, "but I don't believe we've been introduced. You are...?"

"You will know me as Venger!" he howled deeply and thrust a pale hand high, casting a green light over all the surrounding hills. And from those hills emerged scores of Venger's summoned beasts and demons...brutal minotaurs, wailing skeletons, loping bugbears and more.

Eyes burning with a volatile mixture of greed and malice as his monsters descended on the ruined city, Venger made his demand of Damodar. "The Black Orb will be a fitting magic treasure for my collection. Hand over the orb now and I will allow you to leave unharmed."

But Damodar would not hear it. With an assuring glance shared among with warriors, ghouls and cackling harpies, Damodar held the orb close and returned Venger's waiting stare.

"If you want the Black Orb, Venger, then come and take it if you can!"

Combatant One:



Venger
Level Awesome Sorcerer, Chaotic Evil
(from the Dungeons & Dragons cartoons)

Years ago, whether through happenstance or arcane design, six youths and maidens boarded a carnival ride, expecting nothing more than yet another pleasant diversion. But utmost consternation was theirs when the tunnel washed over with a blinding light and the coaster's cars veered through the portal into a parallel world. The benevolent Dungeon Master arrived in time to save them from harm, granting each of the six unwitting wayfarers an enchanted item to see them through the many trials of the world. And the most persistent menace was that of Venger, who ambitiously strove to claim their magical treasures as his own through any means. With such power Venger could finally topple Tiamat--the Queen of All Dragons--and at long last settle the unspoken score between the two. And once Tiamat was removed from the board, none in the land would dare face Venger...save, perhaps, a formerly blue-lipped fighter-wizard with his own axe to grind....


Combatant Two:



Damodar
Level Holy Crap Fighter/Level Über Wizard, Neutral Evil
(from the Dungeons & Dragons movies)

Enslaved by the wicked and conniving (and prone to overacting) wizard Profion, then killed, then returned from death as one of the undead, then resurrected fully through the Black Orb's vile powers...Damodar has been through a lot. But all of the torments he has suffered will make his victory--and his vengeance--all the sweeter when he brings eternal night to Ismir. Freed from Profion's control, Damodar promptly ditched the silly blue lipstick and set out on his own, acquiring the vast powers of the foreboding Black Orb. What can stop him now? Well, aside from a heroic band of six plucky adventurers...or a maleficent and dapper one-horned sorcerer astride a demonic steed....

Roll for initiative!

[The Widowed]

Time to level the playing field a bit....

I know what you're thinking. "The cartoons rocked and the movies sucked! Therefore, Venger crushes Damodar in a landslide!" But let's not be too hasty here....

First off, as old and powerful as Venger may be, consider that he was routinely bested by six kids. Routinely. For two years. Did I mention that the kids had only a passing knowledge of how to properly use their magic items? And the kids were low-level adventurers...no army-crushing, titan-slaying 20th-Level cavaliers or acrobats among them. The thief could climb walls, but that was it for her natural skills. The ranger probably couldn't track a fleeing elephant through desert sand to save the world. The party's wizard didn't even have the slightest idea what to do with his magic hat, and half the time he couldn't get the hat to whip up anything useful. One time, Venger even had Presto at his mercy--and Presto's magic hat securely in his white, evil talons--in the "Night of No Tomorrow" episode. And yet Presto the inept wizard made a comeback, singlehandedly bested Venger and dispelled Venger's marauding horde of dragons in the end. Venger was clearly not wise enough to do away with Presto while he had the chance. How many other critical blunders has Venger made in his career?

Damodar, on the other hand, is as hardcore as they come. Considering that he personally removed the insufferable Marlon Wayans from the Dungeons & Dragons franchise, Damodar could even be seen as a war hero. He was mind-raped and mentally enslaved by Profion, he was ingloriously slain by a mere street-urchin-ish rogue, he was plunged into the cold grip of death, he suffered the even colder torments of undeath...if that doesn't fuel a man with enough bileful rancor and humilation to drive him to drown the entire world in everlasting darkness for the sake of revenge, nothing will. Did I mention that Damodar has actually killed people before? Yeah. And he mind-raped a hottie wizard babe and put her through screaming agony with his cursed earwig thingies, signifying that Damodar doesn't have the slightest scrap of mercy or sympathy for you and your weaknesses. Cross him and you will suffer. Monumentally. So there.

Poll away!

[The Widowed]

<.<

>.>

Yeah, okay, I voted for Venger. It takes a five-headed dragon queen to kick his ass, for Buddha's sake. Even if the kids do monkeywrench his plans a lot, I have yet to see Venger run in curse-bellowing fear from them like he has with Tiamat.

And Damodar did get shanked by a friggin' street-level rogue, after all. Five-headed dragon goddesses > low-level rogues.

Sorry, Damodar. We're still cool, right?

[Nerfed]

No contest.

Damodar talks the talk, but in the end fails to walk the walk.

[suburbanhell]

Venger SO FTW!

[Dr Jack Wolfe]

Yeah, I think you have to Venger. Those kids were getting reroll after reroll and the DM cheated for them.


Now, Elminster of the Forgotten Realms and possibly Greyhawk vs Rastlin of the planes of Dragonlance. There's a mage type throwdown.

[The Widowed]

Speak up, Switch! Damodar could use a good rally.

Originally Posted by Dr Jack Wolfe

Now, Elminster of the Forgotten Realms and possibly Greyhawk vs Rastlin of the planes of Dragonlance. There's a mage type throwdown.

Something tells me that I would bet on Raistlin, slippery little fiend that he is. Could the winner go up against Count Strahd von Zarovich next match?

[Green Tower]

The fact that Venger wants to fight Tiamat gives him the win.

[The Widowed]

Originally Posted by Green Tower

The fact that Venger wants to fight Tiamat gives him the win.

That could simply mean that Venger is frickin' insane.

[Silentkilla866]

Venger Venger Venger!