Ragitsu

I haven't seen you prematurely fire off any nuclear missiles; so far, so good.

Laerlee cannot stay with the PCs; she hopes to gather enough strength to destroy the wraiths before they reach the Dales. If she stands with the PCs and they fall or are by-passed by some wraiths, no warning will come to the Dales before cold death arrives. If the PCs tarry or turn back, the DM should let them see a dark cloud moving over the land. If it is stared at, the viewer can dimly see armored, silent warriors, striding tirelessly forward with drawn swords and cruel eyes of white flame. Each wraith carries with it a sword upon which continual darkness has been cast. The spell effect is very localized (barely covering the attendant wraith), serving to protect the undead things rather than act as a weapon in combat. If these wraiths are exposed to full sunlight, they will recoil for a few rounds, and cannot drain or chill by their attacks. They can still do physical damage with weapons (the swords), but can in turn be struck by all sorts of weapons. There are 32 wraiths, and each has 36 hp.

Cygnia is here and she will make the world better.

Crasigar Mippemerge Milas/Milasil/Milasilas Charthoe Vestacaria Magerolde creft crefth cheft Irredus Wisgrold

Who doesn't enjoy catching a nigh-omnipotent being in a logic trap?

^ It is the price one pays when marketing to the LCD.

One welcome consequence of all this searching: the discovery of new music.

I was wandering through what looked to be an outdoors dirt prison camp that was - among other things - partitioned into sections separated by massive vertical timbers lashed together (actually, those "timbers" may have simply been entire trees chopped down with both bark and branches removed). Eventually, I teamed up with an Asian fellow for a martial arts display being observed by some official-looking men sitting nearby. There were these large rectangular ice blocks themselves stacked (with gaps between each block) in a rectangle and, for whatever reason, I was dual-wielding shortened serving spoons. Suddenly, I hurled both utensils simultaneously and managed to shatter all the blocks. The judges were suitably impressed; this demonstration of skill and strength earned me a release. What's even weirder? There is a good chance I turned out to be an infiltrator.

My present definition of torture: remembering scant details of a song I once enjoyed, making attempts on various lyrics search engines to find the title of said song and receiving a ton of results. I can hear the low and slow, primarily instrumental song with a soft female voice occasionally singing "In the garden." (she stretches out the "ar" portion of "garden"). I am reasonably certain the song originates from either 1995 to 2009 (at the latest) or 2000 to 2009 (again, at the latest).

Obviously, there are limits to scientific/technological progress as it relates to the Average Joe; not all knowledge can be freely promulgated and access to certain resources is either severely restricted or outright banned.

Later editions, yes (e.g., spells that are increasingly limited by numbers, powers refreshing after "short" rests, the blast-happy Sorcerer, the nigh-infinite font of scratch damage known as the Warlock, et cetera); it's a consequence of WOTC consciously competing with video games/MMORPGs. Early editions feature magic that is potent yet limited (Mages receive a wide pool of potential options, but their spellcasting endurance takes time to deepen and spell components are a factor; Clerics must abide by theological strictures and/or Alignment); granted, it's still not as free-form as some would prefer, but at least there wasn't an incessant push for "balance".

Nirifel Meldarin, Travelling Bard AC 2 (elven chain, Dex 17); MV 9; B10; hp 39; THACO 16; #AT 1; Dmg 1d6 + 2 (short sword of quickness); Str 12, Dex 17, Con 10, Int 14, Wis 14, Cha 16; SA heroic inspiration; SD -3 to reactions; AL N (NG). Thief skills: CW 70, DN 80, PP 25, RL 95. Spells (wizard): 3 1st, 3 2nd, 2 3rd, 1 4th (typically: charm person, detect magic, sleep; blur, hypnotic pattern, improved phantasmal force; invisibility 10' radius, protection from evil 10' radius; dimension door). Magical items: ring of protection +1, short sword of quickness, elven cloak, ring of chameleon power. Nirifel is a young half-elf, only 37 years old (looking to be in her late teens in human terms). She is 5' 6" tall, weighs 132 lbs., and has coppery red hair and light brown eyes. Hailing from the Gnarley Forest, as a child of Clan Meldarin, she came to spend time around Gnarley rangers. She lived for three years at Corustaith, where bard friends of the rangers saw her potential talent early. She lives half of her life in the Gnarley now, but she is always curious to travel abroad. She's seen Veluna, Furyondy, Nyrond, Urnst, Ulek and Celene, and she's currently itching to set off for Ket and beyond—or is it the lands of the far-distant Barbarians whose skalds she has heard of? She's currently a little low on resources, though, so she'll sing for her supper a few more times before she sets off. Nirifel is quite naive and has a reputation for being fey, but she is a good and capable planner. Nirifel has inexhaustible good spirits. She's always able to find something good in everything (regardless how severe adversity seems): an unexpected finding of a new friend, or surprising resourcefulness in one she already knows. She's quite steely and determined under pressure; "that's the human in her," a ranger would say (but he's likely to be biased). The elf in her is more to the fore when she travels deep within the Gnarley, visiting swanmays, dryads, or faerie folk, hoping for a new tale or song they might have for her. Nirifel is young and freewheeling, but nobody's fool. She wants fair payment for her skills if she goes adventuring, or a clean room and good food if she sings to entertain. She carries her own lute, but she can pick a good tune on almost anything, and has a fine singing voice in addition. She prefers the company of elves, half-elves, or gnomes, but her prejudices against dwarves were dealt a blow by her visit to Dumadan. There, she heard a recitation of The Forge of Worlds by a dwarven choir, which left her shaking for hours. One day, she wishes to return there, hoping to be allowed to listen and learn for much longer than she was allowed on her first visit. As an adventurer, Nirifel is a classic jack-of-all trades, singing for supper, charming the odd vendor or supplier of equipment, scrounging what she needs when she can, preferring talk to combat. She wanders widely in Greyhawk's lands (though not in the Wild Coast), and might be encountered almost anywhere.