Dungeons and Dragons Online Vignette – Two Weeks A Cleric

Estocean was less than mediocre as a human paldin.  That is, he thought it would be great to be a cross between a fighter and a cleric and ended up being horrible at both.  At level 18, he couldn’t tank, he couldn’t do enough damage, and he certainly couldn’t heal.  One day the gods bestowed upon him a second chance: a +20 Heart of Wood with which he could undo all the horrible choices he had made in life.

He didn’t want to deviate too far from his current build.  After all, he already had good armor and a few shields to choose from.  He wanted to make a difference in a group, and most of all, he wanted to be accepted.  The choice, he thought, was obvious — he was going to be a cleric.

A +20 Heart of Wood is a curious thing.  Normally, becoming a cleric took years of devoted training, a bit of book learning, and eventually a certificate of ordination from pastorcertification.edu bought for a few plat and a promise not to get too much into necromancy.  With the +20 Heart of Wood, this all happens within a few minutes.  First you are a poor excuse for a paladin and three minutes with some new and improved horrible choices later, you’re a poor excuse for a cleric.

There he was, Dungeons and Dragons’ latest worst babysitter.  As a cleric, however, he found that people seemed more polite to him.  Even as he floundered through casting healing spells, resurrecting people he couldn’t save, and making numerous rookie cleric mistakes, people didn’t seem to mind.  He apologized a few times for his ineptitude and the other party members deflected blame away every single time!  Inept paladins never get that kind of break.  Maybe it was true — everyone does love a cleric!  Seriously, this sort of treatment is usually reserved only for clerics…and extremly high skilled trapmonkey rogues.

Estocean went from level 18 to level 20 in a couple of weeks with a large part of the XP gained by grouping with adventurers happy to have a cleric.  At the moment he turned 20, as if guided by a malevolent god, he walked towards the hall of heroes in the marketplace.  He was finally accepted, he thought.  People were finally happy to see the good cleric, he thought.  Why am I being led to the hall of heroes, he wondered.  He didn’t notice that his god had placed a True Druidic Heart of Wood in his backpack.

Estocean woke up on the shore of a sandy beach.  He was a level 1 Elf.  He noticed, though, that he was a little bit taller than the elves he remembered seeing.  Given a choice of weapons, he was inclined to pick a rapier but what he really wanted was a bow.

On Being John the Baptist

Years ago, I spoke of a boy in prophecy, a youngling with the skating stride of a three-legged dog on ice. Almost in silent secrecy, we knew and understood what we had in our midst. We assumed the roles of protectors, nurturers, shapers, fearing that unleashing the boy onto an unsuspecting world would be at the very least irresponsible, and at the very worst, destructive. It was foolish to think we had this sort of power.

Two days ago, I came to hear this boy’s message but the boy was nowhere to be found. Instead there was this man who spoke passionately to the crowd. He spoke of the new gods. He spoke of dragons. He told them the story of the necromancer. His was a voice in this revolution, and he made them believe.

To say that we are proud of him is to state the obvious. We know what he is capable of, and if the prophecy is to be believed, there will be many epic adventures ahead. Fortunately for mankind, I may have knowledge of the only way to stop him. Force him to shoot from the point – his slap shot still sucks.