In the old days of PnP, we had a great DM, and ne’er was there a character more fun to roleplay than a Paladin. Many a night I walked the line between sainthood and damnation. In honor of that tradition, I present my first and perhaps last Paladin build.
Knight of the Quest
Playable 1-40 PvM
Paladin 26 Rogue 4 Champion of Torm 10
Alignment: Lawful/Good Race: Human
Str14 (20) Int10 Wis14 Dex8 Con14 Chr16(26)
1 Paladin1, Power Attack, Weapon Focus: Longsword 2 Paladin2 3 Paladin3, Divine Might 4 Paladin4, Chr17 5 Paladin5 6 Paladin6, Divine Shield 7 Paladin7 8 CoT1, Chr18 9 CoT2, Blindfighting, Improved Critical: Longsword 10 Paladin8 11 Paladin9 12 Rogue1, Toughness, Chr19 13 Paladin10 14 Paladin11 15 Paladin12, Extra Turning 16 Paladin13, Chr20 17 Rogue2 18 Paladin14, Extra Smiting 19 Paladin15 20 CoT3, Chr21 21 CoT4, Epic Weapon Focus: Longsword, Great Chr I 22 CoT5 23 CoT6, Epic Prowess 24 Paladin16, Great Chr II, Chr 24 25 Paladin17 26 CoT7 27 Rogue3, Great Chr III 28 CoT8, Chr26, Great Smiting 29 CoT9 30 CoT10, Armor Skin, Great Str I 31 Paladin18 32 Paladin19, Str16 33 Paladin20, Great Smiting II 34 Paladin21 35 Paladin22 36 Paladin23, Great Smite III, Great Str II, Str18 37 Rogue4 38 Paladin24, 39 Paladin25, Great Str III 40 Paladin26, Great Smiting IV, Str20
Combat Vitals: AB: 38/33/27/22 (17-20/x2) Buffed AB w/+6 Gear: 64/59/54/49 Max AB vs. Evil: 78
AC: 30 (Full Plate/Tower Shield) Buffed AC with +6 Items: 74 Hit Points: 504
Lay on Hands Healing Power: 288 Hit Points, 504 Buffed Against Undead: 288 damage, 504 damage buffed
Other Powers Evasion Uncanny Dodge Use Magic Device High Taunt Skill Immune to Fear Immune to Disease Remove Disease 2d6sneak damage
The King’s Champion
It was the wedding of the century.
The King was about to marry the beautiful Lady Phaye, last daughter from the Noble House of Alberond, and their union was poised to join the divided kingdom of Questilar for the first time since the Age of the Robber Barons, when Questilar's Kings were weak and marginalized by the influence of the landed Noble Houses.
For the House of Alberond was the greatest of the Houses, and Phaye was the Jewel of Questilar, for no creature before was ever more radiant, more elegant, more fair, than was this child of the Noble Houses. Certainly no maiden ever sang sweeter, for she could hold captive entire courts of men with her melody.
And I am certain that no man ever loved her more than I. In this, I am guilty, though only in my heart. I never betrayed my feelings to her, though whenever our eyes met I felt my soul exposed, and I knew she could see my naked heart.
Would that we had never met. Would that Milord had sent me to the South, to the West, to the East, North-- nay, the Nine Hells! Anywhere-- anywhere-- anywhere but here, but now, but this place, but this Hall, but this occasion. Would that I had fallen in battles past. For with every look I steal, every glance, every thought, I fall, again and again, only without dying.
It was the wedding of the century, and as the King's Champion, I was also his best man.
"I love her, Bronson, more than anything," the King said. "Is she not fair?" "She is most fair, milord," I replied. "And is she not witty?" "She is most keen, milord," I said as I looked out upon the Great Hall where the Court was gathered. We stood upon the dais, and before us stretched a long burgundy carpet that was bordered on each side by wooden pews filled with the teeming throngs of Questilar's gentry. To our right was a trio of rigid trumpeters, and a lithe fellow of some Elven descent pulled gently on the strings of a great harp of yew. I glanced behind me to where the Archbishop stood silently in meditation. His ivory robes glistened beneath the many-candled lights of the hanging chandeliers that dangled like fruit from the Great Hall's vaulted ceiling.
"Bronson...."
I looked upon the wall and found brief comfort in the luminous window of stained glass. The setting sun streamed through and illuminated the glass to reveal a heroic figure doing battle against a mighty dragon from antiquity. The scene was actually that of Milord who, when he was still the young heir apparent, had conquered a mighty Dragon in its lair, and secured a king's ransom in gold and treasure for the Kingdom. A score of years have passed since.
"Bronson...."
Since then, he was catapulted to a knight of legendary proportions, and helped restore an identity to a people and nation who had lost their way. He became an example for all men, and boys and young squires everywhere flocked to Milord's side to be one of his knights. I had been one of them. I was born a base commoner. My father was a sheepherder and my mother—I never knew her. She died when I was very young. But I rose through the ranks, by deed and exploit, and in all things I endeavored to be like Milord. And he gradually united the Noble Houses, and Questilar became a kingdom once again, and not in a hundred years have her people known such peace and prosperity. And now that Milord was about to join the Royal House with that of the House of Alberond, Questilar stood upon the brink of greatness again.
Nor did this wedding signify importance to Questilar only, but a unified Questilar made her allies stronger and safer. As I gazed upon those in the Hall, I saw ambassadors and nobles from Cenelak, from Galadon, from Zune, from Arandir and Teledir. The King of the Krimesans had sent his two Dwarven sons to witness the occasion, and Ragnor, Chieftain of the Stormlands, had come personally as a sign of peace between our two peoples.
"Bronson!" Milord whispered harshly, "Thou art here in body, but thy mind is elsewhere." "My apologies, Milord," I said. "You are forgiven-- tell me, is my cravat tied correctly?"
As I examined Milord's neck-garment, the shrill sound of trumpets echoed throughout the Hall, and the minstrel began the Wedding Procession of Westranach upon his harp of yew. And as one, the entire assembly rose to their feet, and all looked back to the chestnut-haired beauty who stood at the entrance to the hall. As Lady Phaye slowly marched down the aisle, I had to avert my eyes. I could not look upon her, and my cheeks burned with shame. She stepped lightly onto the dais and Milord took her by the hand. There was a final flourish of trumpets, and then the Hall grew quiet. The assembled guests took their seats while the Archbishop stepped up before the King and Lady Phaye, his hands upraised.
"Friends, family, distinguished guests from distant lands-- we have all come together on this day to witness and celebrate a most special union. For this day marks not only a new age for His Majesty and Lady Phaye, but heralds a new age for everyone in Questilar!" And he paused for effect. "Is there anyone now who can bring objections against this union?" And he paused again to look upon the audience.
And in the silence I objected in my heart, and I cursed myself for being weak, for being baseborn and ignoble, for being wretched and vile, for having feelings for Milord’s soon-to-be wife. I cursed myself for being cursed.
"Then let us begin. Your Majesty, do you take Lady Phaye, Daughter of the House Alberond, to be your wife and Queen, to rule you and be ruled by you, in illness and in health, in darkness and in joy, and through all the pains and pleasures of this world?" "I do take her," he smiled, "to be my wife and Queen." "And do you, Lady Phaye, take His Majesty, King Radius of Questilar, Lord of Protector House Magellan, Warden of the North Marches, and Scourge of Dragons--"
And then we heard a commotion from the front of the Hall, near the great doors. A wave of whispers rippled across the crowd as they turned their heads to look back. "Bronson, what is it?" Milord questioned. "What is this stir?" "I am not sure, Milord," I strained my neck to see, but could not through the crowd. "I'll be right back." I stepped off the dais and walked briskly up the aisle. I could see three members of the Royal Guard, blocking the doors. As I approached I saw the Seneschal engaged in discourse with a lady whose silver robes scintillated in the flickering torchlight. Her cowl was thrown over her face, though her curved and slender figure was unmistakabley that of a woman. "My Lord," the Seneschal turned to me in haste, "I've been trying to explain to the Lady that she may not enter without a proper invitation. She has none. Shall I have her removed?"
And then the lady turned to me and gracefully removed her cowl, and said, "Why, hello Bronson."
And for a moment I was struck dumb.
I had seen her only once before, when I was but a child, but it was a moment I never forgot. I was eight, and I was shepherding my father's flock home for the evening. I was walking aimlessly behind the herd while I made wide strokes with a stick at the tall grasses. Even then I pretended to be a great knight, and the sheep were the people I protected. But then I saw a group of men crest a hill before me. There were five of them, and to my alarm they began herding the sheep back north away from our farm. "Hey!" I shouted. "Those aren't your sheep! What are you doing?" And without hesitation I ran toward them. They continued to ignore me until I was upon them. "Stop this! These are not your sheep!" "Stop or you'll do what sheep-boy?" said a dark-haired man. And he grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and lifted me off my feet. "Get out of here you little whelp, before we do more than take your stinking little sheep." "I'm not afraid of you!" And he threw me to the ground, and I could hear the cruel laughter of the other men. Blind with anger, I picked up a nearby rock and let it fly. It struck him in the back of the head and he cried in pain. And then there was stillness, and no one moved. He slowly turned around and I saw murder in his eyes. "You shouldn't have done that, boy," he said, and he quickly closed the distance that separated us. A voice in my head screamed, "Run!" but my legs never moved. And in the next second the back of his hand struck me across the face and I sprawled to the earth. I braced myself for further blows, but instead I felt and tasted the warm spray of urine splash across my back and head. "Here's your medicine, you little bleater," and he laughed as the others circled around me.
And then a clear voice called out.
"Bullying and sheep-rustling? Is this what you've been reduced, Sir Korm of Atronus?" And then all was silent, as the men repositioned themselves to confront this new threat. I looked up and saw a silver-clad figure twenty feet away. She was tall and fair, and she stood calmly with her arms folded across her breast. "Mind your business witch!" their leader spat. "These are not your lands." "He is my business," and her eyes flashed and a sudden wind blew from her direction. Dirt and debris was tossed into the air and the men were driven backward. "Let's go, lads!" he shouted above the wind. And they turned and ran back across the hills, but not before he called back. "Prince Radius will learn of thy treachery!"
Then all was calm. And I felt her firm grasp upon my arm as she gently pulled me to my feet. And I remembered the warmth that radiated from her flesh, and how I felt my injuries melt away, but most of all, I remembered her eyes. They were a deep and startling green, and I felt naked before them. And she said to me, "You must go, but you cannot return home. Your father is... no longer there." "What do you mean," I said, and I was starting to shake, and I felt my throat begin to tighten. "What do you mean!"
"Shhh," she said calmly. "All will be well in time. Your father is in a good place, but you must go West—here." And she removed a silver ring from her hand. "Take this ring. Keep it safe. Take the road west until you come to the House of Enlamar and show this to the Earl. Tell him that the Silver Lady sent you. He will know what to do. Do you understand?" I nodded blankly as the tears streamed down my face. "Take courage, Bronson. You will be a great man some day-- an example for all men. But your road will never be easy. Now go!" And I turned and ran and never looked back, and that was last I ever saw her. That was over twenty years ago. And I never learned what became of my father.
"Lord Bronson? Milord?" I blinked and looked to the Seneschal. "Shall I have her removed?" I looked to the Lady. She stared back at me with those startling green eyes. She was every bit as fair as that fateful evening long ago. "No, Seneschal," I said the words without realizing it. "She is my guest." And I hooked my arm in hers and we solemnly marched back down the aisle. And I could feel the weight of a thousand stares upon me. But I looked only ahead, to my King, who stood hand in hand with Lady Phaye.
And as we drew closer, the King's smile faded, and the colour drained from his face as he looked upon the Lady I escorted. We stopped before the dais, and the Lady in Silver knelt on both knees and bowed her head. And Milord looked at me with a look of abject horror upon his face. "Bronson!" he whispered fiercely. "What is this? Why is she here? Is this some sort of trick?" "Milord, I know not," I said, "But this Lady was my benefactor many years ago. I could not deny her entrance." "Benefactor?" he scoffed. "She is no benefactor. Rise, Witch!" And Milord's eyes blazed with wrath, and his knuckles whitened. And the Lady in Silver stood gracefully, and then she threw her head back and laughed, and the sound of her laughter was like the music of Yuletide bells on a winter's eve, clear and melodic. "Why, King Radius," she said, "surely you are not surprised to see me? Do you not remember our pact? Your oath? Do you not remember the words you swore to me on bended knee? The promise issued from your mouth while your hands were still wet with the blood of my kin? Do you deny your oath?" "That was many years ago." "Do you deny it?" she pressed, and she seemed to rise in height. "That was a different time-- a different place. I've changed. I've done penance, and every night before I sleep I pray to the Gods for forgiveness for what I did! You cannot hold me to that oath!" "Milord," Phaye said, suddenly growing pale. "Who is she? What is this oath? What does she want?" And there was a pause as both the King and the Lady in Silver glared at one another. "Shall you tell her, Radius?" she said raising one eyebrow. "Shall you tell her and the rest of this company of your oath and deeds, or shall I?" And Milord's face grew red with shame and he turned away from us. And the Lady in Silver grew tall and terrible, and a mighty wind blew from everywhere and from nowhere, and the torches and candles were snuffed, and the Hall was cast in darkness. And her body swelled in size, and her robes ripped apart, and she grew into a beast-- nay, a dragon of immense size and deadly beauty, and her scales glistened argent, and her eyes blazed with a green light. She gave her mighty wings a great flap, and the assembled people in the Hall knocked over the pews in their frantic attempt to retreat backward.
"Peace!," the Silver Dragon bellowed. And the Hall became like a graveyard. "Twenty years ago," she began, "I saved a young boy from a group of Robber Knights who were confiscating the property of a certain sheep farmer. They accidentally killed this sheepfarmer, but his son survived. I saw to it. But these Robber Knights were only obeying their master's order, eh Radius? The brave Prince Radius was engaged at the time in a series of land grabs to secure his position for unifying a divided Questilar—a noble ambition however misguided. And these so-called Knights told the Prince of what transpired. They spoke to him of my actions and, to punish me for my insolence, he stormed my home in the mountains. And he came, like a thunderbolt, and slew my mate in fury, and destroyed my brood of eggs in cold blood. And it was then that I came upon him, but he was wounded and exhausted, and he was no match for a Dragon Mother in her wrath. I could have killed him right there—but then he would never know the suffering that I must endure. He would never learn of loss and anguish. No, Death would have been merciful. So I spared his life, and in doing so gave life to his kingdom, but not before he swore to me an oath—an oath that would repay blood with blood. Do you remember the words, Radius? Can you repeat those words, twenty years later?"
I looked to Milord and his face grew dark, and he seethed with a malice I hitherto have never seen.
"Speak your oath, Radius!"
And with gritted teeth he said, "Since I have wrongly taken your mate, I swear, by the blood of my fathers and the Rod of Questilar, I will sacrifice my bride to thee on my wedding day. This I swear."
And then a silence roared in the Hall. People shifted uncomfortably.
And I found myself thinking about my Father, about the words of the Lady Dragon, about the men who came that night, about Milord's successes, his kingdoms, his conquests-- all were founded on a sham. And I was the greatest sham of all. I became a knight because of Milord, because I thought he was an example for other men. I became a knight because I had no family, no home, nothing but bone and blood, and the heart that pumps it. But what am I, if not a fraud? I served a man who, in violent retribution, slays an innocent because a woman-- no, a Dragon-- defends me when I was the victim of brutal men. And everything that I knew or perceived is steeped in falsehood. I was but a poor player in this twisted game of charades.
I knew then that I had but two choices: uphold my fealty to the King, attack the Dragon and save Lady Phaye from death, or break my bond and do nothing, and let her die.
"Milord!" Phaye cried. "Please! This can't be true. You can't let her take me!" "Tis true," he said lowly. "Every word." "Then," she looked around desperately, "then you must renounce your oath!" And the King whirled on her. "I cannot renounce my oath! I have sworn it, Phaye. Do you understand? I have sworn it, and I must abide by my words or my kingship means nothing!" “No!” she cried. “This can’t be happening!” “Guard!” the King barked. “Guard! Give me your sword.” And he roughly grabbed a blade from a nearby guard, abused him in the process, and then whirled back around on the Dragon. “Here! You want blood? You want it? Here! Take it! Take your cursed blood, Wyrm!”
And he grabbed Lady Phaye and threw her to the floor, and he raised his sword high above his head. “Here’s thy damn blood!”
And as the sword fell, I knew I had but one choice.
I leapt across the divide and hurtled the air and fell atop Lady Phaye. And as I landed, I felt something pinch my back, and then my clothes were suddenly warm and wet. I quickly struggled back to my feet, and, stumbling, I carried Phaye to the nearest pew and laid her upon it. She looked on me in wonder. “Are you alright?” I asked. She nodded, bewildered.
My mouth felt suddenly dry, and the room seemed to spin. I looked around the Hall, and everyone stared at me—the King, the Archbishop, the Lords and Ladies and trumpeters and guards, and the Dragon-- where was the Dragon?
And I blinked my eyes and there she was again, the beautiful lady of silver with the startling green eyes. And then suddenly I felt a burning in my chest, and I looked down and saw, to my surprise, the tip of sword protruding from my sternum. I reached my hand behind my back and could feel a blade plunged almost to the hilt. He had run me through.
“What—what have you done?” the Silver Lady said. “In faith, I knew not—“ the King began. “Not you, him. What have you done, Bronson? This was not part of the prophecy.” “What do you mean, witch?” the King asked. “I mean, that his sacrifice, his blood, his act of selflessness, absolves you of your oath. Your wife’s innocence no longer needs to be repaid for your actions. Sir Bronson has paid your debt, in full.”
I tried to speak, but my lips would no longer move, and then I hit the floor with a heavy thud. And as I lay there, I was transfixed by blood, my blood, seeping into the stonework. And then I remembered no more.
I awoke to find myself in a meadow ringed by poplars and aspen trees. I was lying on naught but bare earth, and I heard the gentle neigh of my horse, Winifred, next to me. Above me, wisps of cloud drifted across the azure sky. Was it all a dream? Have I been asleep all along? I looked around the meadow for signs of anyone else, but I was alone.
“What a strange dream, Winifred,” I said out loud. She looked at me quizzically. I noticed that she was saddled. “That’s odd.” And as I grabbed the saddlehorn and slipped my foot into the stirrup, I noticed an envelope tucked into the folds of the saddle’s leather. I opened it and read the following:
Dear Bronson,
I hope this letter finds you in better health than when last we saw each other. It was never my intent to bring harm to you, but to bring justice to a man whose crimes haunt us all. I was foolish in thinking that I could be his judge in this matter. There clearly is a greater power at work here, and it is time for me to step aside.
But you are another matter. You have become what I said so long ago—what I always knew you would become. Your sacrifice did not go unnoticed. But the King, though I convinced him to relinquish you of service, is not done with you yet. His house of cards is about to collapse, and he will seek to scapegoat you, if only because of your association with me. But first he will lay siege to the House of Alberond, for he perceives that they will foment an insurgency against him. And he is right to think so. They are a proud family, and they will not overlook his attempted butchery of their princess. In fact, in them you have a powerful ally, and they have a powerful ally in you. Even as we speak the King is crafting siege weapons and gathering those still loyal to his cause. The people of Alberond are a valiant folk, Bronson, but I doubt that they will stand against the full onslaught of the King.
Take courage, Bronson. All is not lost, and it is always darkest before the dawn. You will find your strength.
And know this, my child. Your mother lives still. And she thinks of you daily.
Yours truly, The Silver Lady
P.S. This might be of interest to you. The Archbishop stated that, because the wedding ceremony was not consummated, Lady Phaye was still a maiden.
Damn. You rule, Grizz. Nice build too. _________________ Wave upon wave of demented avengers marched cheerfully out of obscurity into the dream...
this is a fantastic charisma build but I thought I would just point out that, despite the advance billing, this is not a dwarf.
is good ya, very good.
Great story Grizz. You had some great little twists in there. Very good reading. Thanks. _________________ Intelligent design is neither. Science over superstition please.
Forget the build!!! I want the conclusion to the story!!!! lol
Well okay, I like the build too!!! Seriously,I would buy your story here if it was a book and this was the preview story on the back of the cover. Great story!! _________________ A Man of War who treads the world's roads alone, as I do, must be quick. Long ago I learned to strike swiftly and without scruple. I trouble no man without cause, but one who attacks me had best resolve himself to die!
A Charisma build in all it's glory that goes well with this great romantic story. Btw. Are you a professional writer?
There's one small RPing detail though: I see the pure build-mechanichal reasons for taking rogue levels (evasion, UD, UMD and Tumble as class skills)making it a great build as such. But when i read your story, I don't see any "roguishness" in the character. _________________ I generally avoid temptation, unless I can't resist it...
Great Story
This Bronson however seems more like a pure paladin. _________________ Character Build Calculator(works with Excel, Open Office) 2.83: updated to NWN 1.69.
A Charisma build in all it's glory that goes well with this great romantic story. Btw. Are you a professional writer?
There's one small RPing detail though: I see the pure build-mechanichal reasons for taking rogue levels (evasion, UD, UMD and Tumble as class skills)making it a great build as such. But when i read your story, I don't see any "roguishness" in the character.
The story is remarkable. And I find the possibility for some rogue:
Quote: I was born a base commoner. My father was a sheepherder and my mother—I never knew her. She died when I was very young. But I rose through the ranks, by deed and exploit, and in all things I endeavored to be like Milord.
So there. Did I miss something, or is the build short some RDD? I maybe read more into the letter than was there.
Quote: And know this, my child. Your mother lives still. And she thinks of you daily.
Cheers.
Edited By Ithacan on 12/05/05 15:17
Thanks for the feedback, lads. I'm beginning to think I might be doing something right.
Professional? You mean people can make money doing this?
Quote: There's one small RPing detail though: I don't see any "roguishness" in the character.
I was wondering when somebody would call me on that. You got me. But Ithacan was clever and spotted some clues I dropped throughout the text. I suppose one could argue that his baseborn common heritage reflects the few Rogue levels in the build, but what I was driving at was the alluded-to Dragon heritage which manifests itself, in Bronson's case, as UMD. I found this to be both subtle and more satisfying than taking the obligatory and literal RDD levels.
Ariel, Ookla, RIDE!
I thought I were the only one doing Smiters these days..... I, in opposition to most others, am disappointed in you. A goody two-shoes? No blackguard? Awww, that had to hurt, Grizz?
I am just yanking your chain, it is a good CHA based Paladin, which is better RP-wise. The Paladin26/CoT10 leaves a vacuum for 4 levels, rogue is as good as any way to spend it.
Story rocks, as usual.
OMG what first caught my eye was the build...I have to say my eyes started to hurt when I looked at the story...however a quick print job later and there was a much more manageable 8 page version...
...and that's about all i can really say! Apart from wow! Great little story, really wanna find out more and what happens...Grizz you really should write a book _________________ Grrr...hear my roar!!!
Great story. The build is quite nice too... a lay hands/smite combo from a character like this will drop a lot of powerful enemies before they even know what hit them. _________________ Experience is the mother of good judgement; bad judgement is the father of experience.
