Wilfred Smith

 Yet another character origin story from the DragonQuest RPG universe.

 

 

Wilfred Smith                                                                                    by Don Taco

 

  Wilfred's mother named him the most innocuous name she could think of, hoping it might temper what she was afraid he might turn out to be like. She was both correct and incorrect in her fears. She remembered the name Wilfred from the books her own mother had read to her, about life in the great courts and palaces of a faraway land. Actually, it was the name of a fop or a dandy, but she didn't realize that.

  She was correct in that Wilfred grew up big, and tall, and strong, very strong, and, well, somewhat brutish to be perfectly honest. But she was delighted to find that he was gentle and kind and in love with life, and never acted the bully, even though he could have pushed around every kid in the village, and probably all of them at once. She shuddered to think how much more he could have looked like his father, but he mostly seemed to have inherited her looks, which made him just average looking, except fot his size and rather obvious strength.

  Wilfred drifted down the path towards becoming a healer early in life. It just seemed to suit him. He would be called upon by the neighbors, and eventually, by most of the villagers, sometimes even to neighboring settlements, whenever any of the livestock were near to giving birth. Listening to and aiding the elder women, he became a competent midwife, and the births seemed to go smoother when he was there, plus there was such an obvious joy deep within him to be present at this miracle time after time.

  When Wilfred was in his later teens, and obviously growing into being a big man, his mother looked at him thoughtfully one day, shook her head ruefully, and began to tear apart a section of the edge of the thatched roof of their cottage, puzzling Wilfred no end. A stick was revealed. No, not a stick, a staff. But no, more than that, a weapon. A glaive. More than that, a giant glaive. Again, even more than that, an obviously well-crafted giant glaive, the haft of a dark wood, inlaid with patterns of bone, and carved with cryptic runes almost from tip to stern. Wilfred had never been so mystified in his life.

  Presenting him with this prize, his mother told him it was the only inheritance he would ever receive from his long-absent father, and that since he was obviously going to grow into the strength and dexterity required to use it, he might as well start learning how. "With your size and a bit of skill," she told him, "you could get hired as a caravan guard and see the world, something I always wished I could do. Be my eyes and ears. Make me proud!"

  An old soldier was found, a few villages away, who could show Wilfred enough of the basics to let him set up a practice routine, and a few short years later he was off to see what adventures, mysteries, companions, laughs, and loves might come his way.

 

A short mechanical diversion for story-telling purposes

 

  In order to do the next part of his tale justice, we're going to have to resort to game mechanics, and so we will require a basic look into the system.

  DragonQuest is skill-based rather than level-based. As you receive experience points, through adventuring, you don't go up in levels, acquiring the same new abilities as any similar character. Instead, you choose how to spend your experience, developing the skills that suit you, or that prudence or the fates dictate that you acquire. Wilfred's two earliest choices were skill in Great Glaive, and the Healer skill, which is the most expensive in the game, but often the most valuable. Having a companion so good at his craft that he can re-grow your hand if it gets chopped off is nothing to turn a blind eye to.

  DragonQuest is a percentage-based system. Skills and abilities have a base chance of occuring, and this is modified by many factors, including skill rank, various bonuses or drawbacks, magical spells and enchantments, and position or state of mind. It's easier to sneak up on a man who is asleep. It's much easier to hit a man by surprise from behind with a sword than it is to face him, alert, and try to swing past his shield. It's hard to burn a witch at the stake who is immune to flames, although you can certainly piss her off trying to.

 

Wilfred makes an unexpected discovery

 

There were a number of times, in those early traveling years, when someone would look quite queerly at Wilfred's weapon. But by then, he'd gotten used to standing out in a crowd, and he never put two and two together. He was still clueless even when, one time, he was asked, by a royal court official they had just performed a task for, how he happened to have the war weapon of an Uruk-Hai chieftain. He had no answer to that. "It was a gift from my father," was all he could say. But one day, someone read his aura, to determine if he had been death-cursed by a recently deceased evil necromancer (yes, that's probably redundant,) and they remarked, "Ah! Half-orc. No wonder you're so tough. Don't really look it, though, They're usually much uglier." "Excuse me. What?" "You're half orc. Father's side, I would wager. That's typical. No one beds a female orc if they have another choice. Not even orcs."

  What Wilfred had never been told, and never suspected, was that, just about nine months before his birth, there had been an orc raid on his village. A small band, not a lot of devastation, one hut burned, a few wounded, but no abductions or deaths.  Except one. The orc chieftain, thinking his band in control of the situation, and underestimating the tenacity and spirit of the villagers, had caught Wilfred's mother unaware, and had decided a nice little rape was just the thing. Wilfred's uncle burst into the hut, and with just a hayfork and the blessings of the gods, had gotten in a lucky shot and severed the chieftain's spine. But the damage was done. The seed was spent. Orcs are extremely fertile, which is apparently nature's recompense for them being the most despised race on the planet and so often on the wrong end of a weapon.

  

Wilfred makes an even more unexpected discovery, in a most unexpected way

 

   In one of Wilfred's first adventures, he had traveled to a small coastal town, though it seemed enormous to a farm boy. He was swapping yarns at an inn with a few companions he'd been traveling with, when a pair of seasoned looking women, well-armored and quite self-assured, entered, took a quick look around the room, and approached their table. One of them never spoke, but had eyes that said they missed nothing. The other said they had just sailed in, were close to a goal they'd been pursuing, and had need of more men-at-arms. Were they available? Money was. That sounded like the answer to a dream. Playing guard to a caravan is a great way to get around, but it won't fill your coffers any too quick. The woman explained that they were commissioned to retrieve a stolen artifact that they had recently discovered the location of. Decades later, Wilfred and his companions will have discovered that this is what everyone says, even when what they really plan is to liberate an article from its current owner, regardless of its past history, but at this time they were a bit naive, and the women seemed so sincere. They retired to a private back room, and spent a bit of time discussing expectations, pay rates, and inventorying skills. The silent one arched her eyebrows when Wilfred stated he was studying as a Healer, though as yet only rank 4. The vocal companion nodded and remarked, "Four is considerably higher than none. Never would have guessed you as a healer from your looks. Well met." Decisions were arrived at and preparations were begun. They set out the next afternoon.

  After two weks of hard travel into a mountainous region, they arrived at the mouth of a cavern. Peering into the darkness informed them that it was guarded by the statue of some kind of snake woman with six arms. Everyone agreed that it certainly seemed a bad omen, but the unspeaking woman, by now obviously in charge, indicated that their path lay that way.

  And it wasn't long before they discovered the warren of goblins. Now, any individual goblin isn't really any larger or more dangerous than a human 12 year old, but the average human pre-teen isn't usually well-armed, armored, or anywhere near as incredibly vicious and equally stupid. Also, their hygiene is lacking. They stink. The problem is that they run around in packs, and it isn't hard to be overwhelmed. No one like smelly surprises with sharp swords.

  The first encounter came as they entered a smallish cavern in the tunnel complex. The six of them surprised eighteen goblins, who immediately charged. The silent woman captain gestured that they should form an arc and hold their ground, and then began the twisting hand motions that anyone would recognize as a mage preparing a spell.

  Wilfred took point position, and the others spread out in an arc. One of the beauties of the glaive, and similar two-handed weapons, is that it can be used to sweep at up to three targets. Your percentage chance of hitting each one is reduced, but the damage is not. Wilfred took on the first three goblins, hitting all three, two of them hard enough to stun them, which prevented them from attacking until their head cleared. The third swung and connected, but not hard enough to penetrate his armor. At his side, Masaki, ambidextrous and skilled, struck another two goblins with his long and short scimitars, stunning one and getting hit by the other. The woman who speaks traded blows with a third, and Cyber and Sinclair, at the ends of the arc, prepared for the onrush of the remaining goblins.

  In the next pulse, three more goblins reach the fray but are behind their compaions, and another four run at the ends of our formation. Cyber and Sinclair each engage one, and blows are traded. Wilfred strikes his three again, stunning them all. The speaking woman steps back from the line and cuts off the lone goblin trying to flank the mage woman, striking him and stopping his rush. He hits her in return and draws blood. Masaki strikes both of his again. The mage finishes casting her spell, and the other flanking goblin bursts into flame.

  In this system you have a Fatigue value and an Endurance value. Damage wears down your fatigue until it is gone, and then affects Endurance. When your Endurance reaches zero you are dead. However, if your dice roll is lower than 15% of your strike chance, your damage goes straight into the target's Endurance. A stunned target increases your strike chance, and if a target is out of fatigue (OOFed) another bonus occurs.

  Having been struck twice by a high damage weapon, all three of Wilfred's tagets are both stunned and out of fatigue. But it is Masaki who gets the lucky roll, and one of those facing him crumples up dead. And that's when it all begins to go south for Wilfred. He feels disoriented and very uncomfortable. And one of his next three swings misses.

  Every character has a primary birth aspect. Almost everyone is aligned with the time of year of their birth, summer, winter, spring, or fall, and has some slight bonuses in that season, especially on the solstice or equinox. A very small percentage, however, end up aligned with the sun or the moon, and have different bonusea altogether, and at different times. An even tinier percentage wind up with the aspect of death, or of life. A death-aspected character will have a 10% bonus to any and every action if a death occurs within a certain distance and time period. (Grey Miller is death-aspected. Wouldn't you guess that?) A life-aspected character will have a great bonus being near a birth, but a negative adjustment if near a death. And, for a life-aspected character, these are cumulative. Wilfred is life-aspected, and never knew it. Everything is suddenly 10% harder to do.

  In the next pulse, silent woman prepares to cast, speaking woman dispatches her goblin with a lucky swing, Cyber and Sinclair trade blows with their targets, more goblins arrive to join the fray, stepping into the place of their fallen comrades where they can, and Masaki kills one of the two in front of him. Wilfred, swinging at only 44% now, misses two of his three, but kills the third. He feels as miserable as he has ever felt in his life, but does realize that he is performing poorly, and decides to stop sweeping and concentrate on single targets.

  In the next pulse, there are no more deaths. Another goblin bursts into flame. Wilfred, swinging at 64%, rolls a 48.

  The following pulse, two more are dispatched. Wilfred, at 44%, rolls a 32.

  Still at 44%, he rolls a 13, not low enough for an endurance shot though it would be under ordinary circumstances. Two more die.

  At 24%, Wilfred rolls a 20. Masaki takes a goblin down to 1 Endurance, and it falls unconcious and is out of the fight, but this doesn't affect Wilfred. Another takes its place.

  Still at 24%, Wilfred rolls an 18, killing that goblin.

  At 14%, He rolls a 12. One of the burning goblins succumbs to the flames.

  At 4%, Wilfred rolls an 01. Under any other conditions, this would be a critical hit and do extra damage, but it's all he can do to keep hold of his weapon. The other burning goblin gives up the ghost, and Wilfred falls to the ground and curls up into a fetal ball, whimpering, distressed, and with no idea what has gone wrong with him.

  After some more time, the goblins are defeated, and after six minutes Wilfred regains his composure. The woman who speaks explains his predicament. The group marvels at the astounding composure he mustered to keep striking successfully down to the lowest possible chance of doing so. Wilfred thinks seriously about walking home.

 

Epilogue

 

  Understanding what had happened made it easier to accept. Wilfred didn't walk home, which would have been quite difficult and dangerous, and settled into the adventuring life, eventually becoming a top-ranked healer, capable of even resurrecting a deceased companion if necessary, though at a great cost. As time went on, Wilfred and his companions marveled at the ridiculously higher than normal percentage of times that their group would knock foes unconcious instead of making them dead. As if the Pantheon had chosen to make fighting easier on him.

  Sometimes, after a few cups at one inn or another, Wilfred would swear that someday he was going to satisfy his wanderlust, and have amassed enough coin to retire. His plan, he stated, was to move to a decent-sized city, take a position in the maternity ward of a large hospital, and just sit back and enjoy life.