View Full Version : Gamer Tales Dr. Randall E Wainwright: A Peculiar Man with an Unslakable Thirst for Knowledge

2015-09-21, 10:12 AM
Hello all! I think that Kingmaker is an exciting adventure path that truly captures everything great that table-top gaming once was and again could be.

To that end, and as a bit of an experiment in role palying in general, I am running this adventure path using a different rpg system to remain nameless for now, with my younger brother as my only player, trying to make the Kingmaker game a sort of dark/comical/surrealist experience with the aim of making a particularly unique and unforgettable story.

We played the first session last night and my brother is compiling a journal of the main character's first adventure. In the meanwhile I will provide you with his backstory in the next post. My intent for this thread is to provide Dr. Wainwright's (the PC's) journals inter-spaced with my own commentary and responses to any questions my audience may have. I hope you all enjoy the adventure. I am already.

2015-09-21, 10:13 AM
Dr. Randall Eugene Wainright - The Backstory of Our Star:

Thomas and Claire Wainwright were a middle-class couple living in the urban section of the town of Silverhall. The couple worked as craftsmen and carpenters, but mainly as carriage-makers. After an especially lucrative military contract, the two decided to raise a child. Thus was born, our hero, Randall Wainwright. From a young age it became apparent that Randall possessed a towering intellect. To his parents’ amazement, Randall was speaking in full sentences before his first birthday. Before he even went to school, he was able to read signs of important places and stores around the city. He loved to play with the components of the carriages while his father worked. Thomas used to joke to his wife that maybe 4 year old Randall knew how to put together a carriage. He was probably right.

Randall was the pride and joy of his family for the early part of his life. When he went to school, however, things started to change. At first, Randall loved school and loved telling his parents what he learned each day. He showed enthusiasm and a great willingness to learn. By the time he was 8, it became clear that school bored Randall. Instead, he would spend a great deal of time in the town’s library. Not long after, he dropped out of school. This upset his parents greatly since they tried incredibly hard to scrap together the cash to pay for schooling, which is not a luxury most middle-class people have.

At this point, Randall became somewhat of a recluse – basically living in the library. He would sneak in after closing time with a bag full of candles and read for hours on end. It is quite possible that he read every book in Silverhall’s library, but the books that intrigued him most were the ones dealing with various schools of magic. That there existed such power in this world just waiting to be tapped simply astonished and captivated Randall. However, Silverhall’s library was not very big, and did not have many books on magic.

Perhaps this is why, at 13, he tried to convince his parents take him to Brevoy’s capital to marvel at its library. When they explained that they simply could not afford to leave their shop, he ran away from home to the capital. Armed only with the clothes on his back, some food he took from his house, and a small kitchen knife, Randall set off for the capital. On the way he was attacked by a wolf and nearly died. He managed to save himself by fashioning a bandage from the food sack he was carrying, but was left with a gruesome scar running from the back of his right ear down to the bottom of his neck. Injured but alive, Randall made it to the capital, which was considerably richer and more urban than Silverhall. He lived there as a beggar for some years, nearly starving many times. But somehow we would use his wits to get by. Anyway, for Randall, he did not care about living comfortably or luxuriously. He needed more knowledge.

By 16, somehow, without being trained by a mage, Randall spent enough time reading and thinking about magic that he was able to cast a few rudimentary spells. He figured the fact that he was able to do this might allow him entrance to the nearby College of Mages. Usually such a place is reserved for noblemen or a select few. However, upon proving that he was in touch with magic, The Archmage actually decided to let him in to the College. Randall agreed to a rather interesting entrance exam, one where he had to kill an apprentice’s conjured frost troll. He used the only real spell he knew, a magic missile, to melt its face and skull into oblivion.

The next few years were the best years of Randall’s life thus far. Although he was not very popular or well-liked by his professors or peers, they could not deny Randall’s natural gift for magic and his remarkable intelligence. Randall did not spend much time socializing – for him, talking bags of flesh were not nearly as interesting as, for example, learning how to make a column of ice appear from thin air. All schools of magic interested Randall – conjuration, divination, enchantment, illusion, and even necromancy. Necromancy was actually forbidden in the college but there was one professor, a quirky fellow, perhaps more even eccentric than Randall that would secretly practice all sorts of forbidden magic in the Academy’s basement at night. This professor, Dexter Kristoff, became a great friend and mentor to Randall. Kristoff was extremely powerful, probably more powerful than the Archmage. He told stories of his younger days as an adventurer/mercenary, where he killed many men. He said teaching magic at the College is his way of repenting for the lives he took – for not all were evil. Some of Professor Kristoff’s cold sense of humor stays with Randall to this day.

Randall was always prone to showmanship and had a remarkable ego. He frequently proclaimed that he was the greatest mage and that no other student could best him in the arts of magic. This led to many an unfortunate magical duel between Randall and other students. Randall made almost no friends, many enemies, and was often disciplined by the academy staff and professors for his bad behavior and unpermitted spell casting. However, it is worth noting that Randall won almost every duel he was involved in, often by superior magical ability, sometimes by deceit.

After spending quite some time at the college and making it well past the Initiate (errand-boy) rank, Randall ran into some trouble. One day, Professor Kristoff and Randall decided that they were ready to test a new necromancy technique that can magically bring a person back from the dead, and make them stronger than they were in life. They had already tested it on a few toads and they were able to succeed once. This time they wanted to try it on a person. One of the Initiates at the Academy volunteered, likely to gain approval from Professor Kristoff. Hoping to cover his tracks in case anything went awry, Professor Kristoff made the student fill out a consent form. The process involved temporarily killing the subject, only to revive it seconds later. However, for some reason still unbeknownst to Randall, he and the Professor were not able to revive their subject this time. They had effectively murdered someone, which was very hard for Randall do deal with. Still, he tells himself it was for the sake of knowledge.

Professor Kristoff took full responsibility for the incident, but still, Randall’s involvement was not concealable. As such, Professor Kristoff was sent to trial at the High Swordlord’s Court while Randall was luckily simply exiled from the College.

Randall would have been miserable with no college to learn from. Luckily, Professor Kristoff offered Randall an opportunity. The Professor had connections with a local swordlord, and was to picked for a charter expedition into the Stolen Lands. However, with the upcoming trial, he would have been forced to decline. Instead, he offered his charter to Randall, and said he would vouch for his eligibility for the task. Randall knew that there are great secrets to be found in this region – magic beings, fey walkers, all kinds of exciting opportunities to learn. He was more than enthusiastic, with a chance to conduct actual field studies in a region replete with magic and barely tainted by civilization.

Before he left for the High Court, the Professor gave Randall a special item – a musket he found in Numeria, back during his adventuring days, owned by a strange mechanical bandit leader that he killed. With his new weapon, his knowledge of magic, and incredibly ambitious dreams, Randall set off for the Stolen Lands to seize his opportunity to learn, grow, and become the most powerful mage the world has ever seen.

2015-09-21, 10:16 AM
Dr. Randall Eugene Wainwright

The 26th of Calistril, AR 4710

I believe the time is ripe for me to begin an entirely new diary. With this first entry, I commence the tale of an exciting, fresh chapter of my life. This document will likely prove to be the most important artifact of history, assuming I should ever die .

I arrived in the Stolen Lands yesterday, the 25th of Calistril, with little to my name save a backpack with supplies, a dagger, musket, and my familiar Anthony, the squirmy and squishy little toad he is. He is the result of one of my experimental forays into reviving beings from beyond this world. I feel that one day he will be a powerful ally. Immediately, I could sense that I was stepping boldly into the unknown with a purpose that none from Brevoy or even of Golarion have shared. I held a Royal Decree to gather knowledge about these lands, and to help Brevoy settle here. But more importantly, I hold a personal decree to grow closer with the arcane and fey powers that reside in these lands, and bring my knowledge and power to heights I cannot fathom.

By midafternoon I had reached the only settlement known in the Stolen Lands, Oleg’s Trading Post. This ramshackle fort had certainly seen better days. Upon meeting Oleg and his wife, Svetlana, I’m sure they had too. They did not even have a library. Oleg told me of bandit raids that have been plaguing him recently, and have basically bankrupt his already barely-profitable business. As luck would have it, they always come on the same day at around the same time, which happened to be merely 15 hours from our meeting. As not to confuse him with the details of my quest, I humored his notion that I was the reinforcements he requested from Brevoy . Surely, I could outsmart a few bandits that lazily pick scraps from a down-on-his-luck trader.

I could indeed.

I was sure I could either dissuade, scare, or kill these bandits with relative ease as long as Oleg and his wife submitted to my plans. As soon as I told Oleg the royal charter said I was the greatest mage in Brevoy , he followed my wishes with some degree of enthusiasm, despite his drunken nature. With little time before the bandit’s arrival, I was able to sufficiently repair two of the broken catapults on the southern ramparts and teach my two average-intelligence companions how to fire them. Meanwhile, I instructed Oleg to make wooden decoys of soldiers with Brevoy sigils. His wife and I scrounged the post for something to be used as ammunition for these weapons, finding a few stones and an oil barrel. Those catapults were the last resort of my mutli-pronged and inspired plan of dealing with these bandits. Even though Oleg passed out drunk at some point, he did manage to finish 8 decoys of somewhat surprising quality given his competence and nature. The three of us fashioned these eight decoys on the ramparts and I sallied out some ways down the road, just south of an intersection I had previously aimed the catapults towards. If things were to go awry, I would have simply give the couple a signal – my magical dancing lights – and they would fire.

As I planned, though, it did not come to that. As the bandits drew near, I covered the ramparts in an obscuring fog, so to increase the effectiveness of the decoys. I am sure this worked to some degree, as when I began to talk with the bandits, they were not overly eager to fight. The apparent leader of this raiding party, Happs Bydon, soon fell victim to my wits and the magical charms of my person . I convinced him that riches and prestige await by following me instead of his leader, Kressel. Which is true . He told his men to return to camp and say that Oleg’s place was burned down.
A wise choice, even if it did take some convincing. I welcomed him back to Oleg’s for some wine despite some bad blood between the two men for obvious reasons. This foul-mouthed, and somewhat gullible ranger was perhaps the perfect companion to help me in the beginnings of exploring these Stolen Lands.

I now write from a bed in Oleg’s Post after our “sippage,” of quite a few strong bottles of wine – nay a day in these parts and I already have gained an ally , and saved a couple from impending doom . Knowledge and wonders await, I am sure of it.

And I will find them.

-Dr. Randall Eugene Wainwright

2016-05-02, 11:01 AM
Dr. Randall Eugene Wainwright

The 10th of Pharast, 4710 A.R.,

I write again from Oleg’s humble trading post, after a fortnight of travel and exploration, one that has piqued my curiosity for this land more still. I write in high spirits, excited by the small taste of the peculiar and magickal I have experienced hitherto.

After writing my last entry, Mr. Bydon and I set out to explore more of these Stolen Lands. My new companion mentioned a forest to the southwest, and myself knowing that such areas are often the seat of ancient magicks, I decided to travel in that direction.

Only a few days into our journey, we came across of field of odd, white, radish-like vegetables I have not seen or read about before. More interesting still, we encountered four creatures seated in this patch, surrounded by half-eaten specimens of this new vegetable. The creatures were humanoid in nature, with reptilian features and scaly skin. Upon detecting Mr. Bydon and myself, they rose up to greet us with knives and small swords drawn. Seeing that these creatures must possess some small amount of intelligence by their use and possible production of weaponry, I attempted to speak to them and warn them of interfering with my Royal Charter and my plans for these lands. Despite the several tongues I know, including that of goblins and the hellish Infernal, my warnings fell on deaf ears. This pack of short, foolhardy reptiliohumanoids just signed their lives away by challenging the greatest wizard of Brevoy. A shame, really, because I would have liked to learn more of their culture and origins.

Despite being outnumbered by a factor of two, Mr. Bydon and I dispatched of these creatures with little effort. Like most other beings, these were susceptible to the magickal energies that I am able to discharge as a projectile. Although I managed to thin the majority of their numbers, Mr. Bydon proved that what he lacks in intelligence he makes up for with his skill with a longbow.

I received a small puncture injury during the battle, but I was able to masterfully staunch the bleeding and wrap the wound, impressing even myself with first-aid techniques I have not practiced since my time at the Magick Academy. After some more exploring, Mr. Bydon suggested that we return to Oleg’s to resupply, as we were running low on provisions. I quickly told him otherwise, reminding him that we were here to find magicks, and that man’s greatest discoveries are often made during times of strife. Luckily, I began to sense a magickal presence as we protruded slightly deeper into the woods. On the following two mornings, I awoke near our campfire to find myself the victim of magickal mischief, once with my undergarments set alight, and on another occasion, my hands bound to a tree with bark-like fibers. It was on this morning that I saw the two creatures likely responsible for this mischief, and what wondrous creatures they were. Two faeries, each of different appearance, sat atop a tree branch laughing at their joke. One of the creatures, an imp-like miniature humanoid adorned with wings must have sensed my incredible magickal aptitude and actually approached me to converse. I was able to find a common tongue with it, namely that of the Elves. I found this surprising, and I still wonder where such a creature learned this tongue. A simple creature, who quickly offered insight once I presented him with gold coin, a currency he referred to as “shinies.” I soon learned from this faery-folk that there are even more magickal areas in the forest – an ancient temple to the south and a mystical pond to the south and west. I sought the faeries aid in dealing with the nearby bandit camp, but it appeared the feeble creatures were afraid of the “bad bigguns’” as they called them.

Mr. Bydon and I finally returned to Oleg’s, armed with more information regarding the surrounding forest. This time, I noticed there were tents outside of the trading post and I approached them. Here was stationed a few men under the command of an exiled lesser noble-turned-mercenary from Brevoy, Kesten Garess. Upon my return, Kesten claimed that I lied to Oleg regarding who was to defend his trading post. I tried convincing Kesten that my Royal Charter actually places him and his men directly under my employ but, a stubborn man he is, he was not swayed. In time, he will see my leadership sought after and required in these lands, but, for now, letting him simply guard Oleg’s will suffice. We discussed the bandit camp nearby but he was unwilling to lend soldiers to help rid the forest of them. It matters not, for Randall Eugene Wainwright will find a way to deal with them.

Another new inhabitant at Oleg’s, a priestly man by the name of Jhod Kaven, sought my aid in lifting a curse at an old temple of Erastil, God of the Hunt. He claimed a vicious cursed bear lived there. Luckily, this was the same temple that the faery mentioned earlier that week, and was my next destination – for temples are often the source of magick and knowledge. Jhod promised his support if I could rid the temple of this curse. Upon my demand, the priest gave me a small token of favor bearing Erastil’s sigil, which I cleverly requested so that the God would know I come in peace.

Mr. Bydon was reluctant to accompany me to dispatch of a magickal bear, however, I quickly convinced him the journey would be worth it, for there may be riches hidden in the temple. He promptly changed his mind and we set off. A few days into our journey we reached a small clearing. Tucked away in the forest, lay a stone structure behind a small pool of dirty, muck-ridden water. Obviously bearing religious significance, I knew this was the temple Jhod spoke of. My suspicions were soon proven true, as out of the stone structure appeared a large bear that let out a ghastly roar.
Mr. Bydon appeared quite shaken by this image but I rallied him, instructing him to fire at the beast as it ran towards us. A skilled bowman he is, he managed to tag the beast with a few arrows, however this did not seem to faze it. Meanwhile, I readied the already-loaded powder rifle given to me by my former mentor, biding my time for the right moment to pull the trigger. I knew that such a weapon could fell this beast. When I could see into the bear’s troubled eyes, and when I could feel the despair wash over Mr. Bydon next to me, I unleashed the projectile from the musket as a puff of smoke ran up to the sky. I heard the beast fall and let out a painful cry. When the smoke cleared, the beast lay merely inches from me, its momentum sliding it to my feet. I retrieved the token of Erastil from my pocket, flashing it at the bear’s head. This seemed to anger it as it let out its last breath. In the next few seconds, I watched in wonder as the bear morphed into the corpse of an elderly man, then into a skeleton, and finally into nothing but bone dust. Mr. Bydon and I looked up in amazement as the forest and flora around us sprang to life, and the nearby pool cleared itself of muck and grime, now radiating a powerful glow. I then knew that my efforts lifted the curse. Unfortunately for Mr. Bydon, the temple held negligible riches, and even more disappointingly, there were no ancient texts for me to decipher. However, our mission was complete

I recovered the bone dust as proof of my deed and I also saved a sample of the pool water, for my instincts tell me it houses magickal properties.

Our journey back to Oleg’s was uneventful. Mr. Bydon remarked that he was impressed by my weapon and appeared quite grateful that I was there to fight the beast with him. Rightfully so.

Back at Oleg’s, Jhod was similarly impressed that we were able to lift this curse so easily, and he promised his services to me if I should ever need them. As I had suspected, this priestly man dabbles in healing magicks, which may be useful should me or my compatriots see ourselves wounded in our journeys.

Although I have not found a concrete way of dealing with the bandits in the nearby forest, I have gained yet another ally in such a short period of time, and I have begun to perceive the magicks that lurk in this land. I know that this is merely the beginning of the wonders I will soon discover. More knowledge awaits deeper in the forest, and I will need its power if I am to continue cleansing these lands and pave the way for civilization.

The Stolen Lands are changing and history is being made.

I, Randall Eugene Wainwright, am the catalyst that will launch these troubled lands into an age of wonder and prosperity!

- R.E.W