<Regarding 21 && 28. Sorry, the same article was published twice. Dispel Confusion.>
 
 

The Adventures of Monty Haul #1
MONTY HAUL AND HIS FRIENDS AT PLAY
by James M. Ward
(Dragon #14)

Author’s Note: Not many people have been exposed to the working
staff of TSR. They are a very unusual bunch of talented people. Not all
of them play Dungeons & Dragons (amazing though it may seem) and a
good percentage of them have worked on or are developing a set of war
game rules. I have the pleasure of often going down to Lake Geneva
and talking with them about war gaming in general. Several concepts
always crop up in the conversation. Many of the TSR guys have
massive numbers of miniatures with which they are able to inundate the
unwary with equally massive amounts of detailed information. Many
of them have a period or periods of history that they are thoroughly
familiar with.

They all have this feeling of “disdain” for any judge, referee, or
starship master they can call a “Monty Haul” type judge. While I can
usually keep my head above water with the first two points, the last one
makes my knees start to shake and my mind seek the inner recess of my
skull. You see, I know myself for a semi-Monty-Haul-type judge and a
plus one dagger twists in my heart everytime they are condemned. In an
attempt to strike back, I created Monty Haul and his friends (all very
clearly members of the TSR staff).

These war gamers are your not too typical players and I have tried hard
to exagerate everything about them, but it wasn’t easy. Some of the
TSR gang do have enough miniatures to fill a bushel basket. Some of
them can quote page for page from war gaming books of all types.
Some of them can paint miniatures at fantastic rates with amazing
detail. So, when you read about them and their war gaming styles,
remember that I tried to blow everything out of proportion and that
wasn’t easy. The stories that follow detailing Monty and his gang are
all things that happened or could have easily happened considering the
TSR group.

Editor’s Note: Now that Jim has assassinated our collective character,
it’s my turn to return the favor. Jim is a junior high teacher and ass’t.
football coach in Prairie du Chien, WI. If not for that minor detail,
Jim would love to, and probably would, be one of us. (Which shows
you just how mentally deranged the poor guy is.) In the months to
come, TA of MH will poke some shots at our personal foibles, but
usually within the framework of a much more serious satirical
statement.

We do not, for example, have any 30th level PC’s, nor do we play
monsters as PC’s, Mike is not hung up on bi-planes alone; if we let him
be a choo-choo, he’d be just as happy. Dave (II) is not really an EPT
freak; it’s just too late now to repair the damage he received while
bashing others/being bashed in SCA. As editors are perfect, all you
read about me is a lie.

It all started when we got together one Saturday for our weekly
game of something. I was really up for a fantasy battle, but Monty had
just painted ninety WW I tanks that morning and wanted to try a little
skirmish against the Polish armies that all the rest of us had. We talked
him out of that idea fast and the discussion began again on what we
should do. I suggested the fantasy miniatures battle, but someone else
wanted to D&D. This immediately ended the discussion because no one
in their right minds could turn down a chance to D&D.

We all got out our best player characters. While I had several
thirtieth level fighters and wizards, I decided to pull out my ancient
gold dragon for the trip. Looking over what the other guys were going
to use, I saw the usual mix of balrogs, demons, monks, paladins, and
iron golems. Freddy even decided to go have his plus eight purpose
sword with its ego of eighteen and intelligence of twenty-eight, or was it
twenty-nine? Well anyway, I saw right away that it wasn’t going to be
anything more than an average game and so I sat back to take it easy.
Then, to everyone’s horror, Monty pulled out his new universe, which
he had just completed last night and we all went wild. Everyone started
talking at once, wanting to use nine or ten wishes to find out about the
universe or wanting to use their favorite artifact or X-15 computer for
the same reason. We then all decided that the day could not be spent
D&Ding.

I again suggested we play some fantasy miniatures and we all
agreed to try that, but Monty was strangely silent. He pointed out that
since all twelve of us had chipped in and gotten a copy of “Swords and
Spells” (I had gotten a coupon) we should go by those rules. Besides,
Monty said, he had just read the rules a half-an-hour before he came.

We then had the same fight we have everytime we want to have a
fantasy miniatures battle. What exactly from our vast hordes of figures
from all ages and universes (some not even known yet) could we use as
fantasy figures. Freddie said he had just that morning painted the entire
“12 o’clock high bomber wing” and wanted to use that saying he could
cite examples from several books dealing with planes flying into
fantasy worlds. We quickly shut him up and made him sit down.
Another one of us said that just last night he had painted all his 300
space marines and wanted to use them and we made him shut up even
quicker. I then said that the figures used should be from a culture or
time where they commonly used swords and that brought some grumbling from the Tractics boys of our group. Monty was all for bringing
out his 200 legions strong Airfix army; the one he had painted last
Sunday during the commercials. That started us off again on how many
figures we should use. Robert wanted to use his 400 French cavalry that
he had just painted Tuesday night and naturally the thought of those
pistols made everyone decide on an added definition of fantasy

It was agreed upon that the figures had to come from a sword
using culture written about by a famous fantasy (not science fiction)
author. This brought us back to the number of figures we should use
and in the interest of getting the game started less than three hours late,
we decided on an arbitrary fifteen figures plus one special being related
to that culture. Almost everyone started reaching for their storm giants
and dragons, but Monty with a wicked smile on his face pulled out
fifteen Viking type men and women and an old dude in a chair. He had
done an unusually fine painting job on them, but they were very
colorful for Vikings. I figured the guy in the chair must have been
someone mighty special with an artifact or something and we all started
making guesses on the weapons the puny Vikings were going to use. It
just wasn’t Monty’s style to bring out a batch of humans that could get
blown away by something small like Ernie’s squad of iron golems or
Jake’s flight wing of red dragons. Then Monty hit us with the
bombshell. Since he was limited to sword using cultures written about
by fantasy authors he had decided to use the fifteen toughest Norse
Gods with Odin leading them. We all started shouting unfair at once,
while we were putting away our dragons, golems, and undead and
bringing out tougher things.

After long debate, in which our first move was to make Monty put
away his Gods, we decided on a new definition. We would use figures
taken from sword using cultures. It had to be written about by a noted
fantasy author. The fifteen figures had to be normal everyday beings of
that culture with normal weapons and armor for that culture. The
special being could have one weapon not above plus three, special
armor not above plus three, or one spell, and they couldn’t be so strong
that a direct hit from a panzerfaust couldn’t kill them with one shot.
That last point was brought up by the Tractics boys, but it still sounded
good to the rest of us.

Mounts and movement factors were discussed when Tom brought
out sixteen knights on sixteen platinum dragons. We thought that
knight types generally were found on chargers (not the cars, he had
those too) and this was how they were to be mounted. Dave pulled out
some really strange Petal Throne things that nobody could make head
nor tails of. I think he called them hooggies or something like that, but
we made him put them away stating that they were never written about
in a fantasy book. After all was said and done we had a pleasant mix of
knights, dwarfs, elves, ogres, winged men from Mongo, nomadic horse
archers, elephant riding Greeks, giants, Swiss pikemen, and Romans.

Monty and I had wisely held back when everyone was digging into their
bushel baskets of miniatures and bringing out things. In fact, while
everyone else was grabbing figures Monty and I were deciding terrain
and who would be on whose side. I said a desert area with a few big
sand dunes and little other terrain would be fun and everyone but Pete
with the wood elves agreed (he was shouted down). Monty decided a
free for all with no one siding with another would be good. The point
was brought up that natural enemies like giants and dwarfs shouldn’t
ever fight together no matter what (which really hurt the two
Diplomacy buffs that had the dwarfs and giants). Finally Monty felt he
couldn’t hold back anymore and brought out sixteen of the prettiest
tyrannosourous Rex you ever saw. He also brought out two comic
books and a novel none of us had ever read to support his use of them.
Over a loud and long protest by the single F.I.T.S. lover in our group
who wanted to argue logically for the fact that such a group would
never realistically come together. All the rest of us surveyed the playing
area; with its assemblage of monsters, magic, men, and his flying men
of Mongo, and laughed him into silence. It was my turn to place my
figures on the board and while I took out by black enamel coffer from
its fishing tackle resting place I started to talk about Edgar Rice
Burroughs. I mentioned the fact that no one could doubt that
Burroughs was one of the greatest of fantasy writers. I saw the beads of
perspiration start to form on eleven foreheads. I also mentioned as I
opened the black coffer shielding its contents from all the others that
his Mars series was certainly a culture using swords. I saw the Tractics
and Diplomacy boys turn pale and Monty tried to pull back his
dinosaurs, but I held his hand.

With a gleam of triumph in my eyes, I pulled out sixteen of the
nicest, best painted set of green martians the world has ever seen. Each
one had a radiation rifle, a radiation pistol, and two swords at hand. I
could see the looks of fear in eleven eyes and the grim determination of
eleven jaws. The battle was brief and when it was over the heaped
bodies were laid around the martians inches deep.

Endit
 

The Adventures of Monty Haul #2
MONTY AND THE
GERMAN HIGH COMMAND
by James M. Ward
(Dragon #15)

It was Tuesday night, our weekly “anything goes” night. We all
went to Robert’s house for the game. Monty was going to run it and
was being very secretive as to what we were going to do. We filtered in
one or two at a time until nine of us were there. The Tractics boys.
Dave (I), Tim, and Brian were all clumped together talking about something called “Cham-bowi” armor (it sounded something like that) and
I was just going over to see if I could incorporate it in my medieval
campaign game when Monty started setting up the ping-pong table and
Robert brought out the soda pop and food. Most everybody went over
to help Monty, I went over to help Robert (which was my first tactical
error of the night).

Monty had the Tractics boys and me (because my mouth was too
full of food to protest) go into the other room with our written orders.
When the three I was with read the WW II orders with us being the
Germans, they were overjoyed. It seemed we were going to attack a
bunch of snipers that were entrenched in a hilly area. That kind of
game was their kind of thing, but it left me far from pleased. I never enjoyed playing any game using gunpowder (figuring it was too hard to
duck a bullet or cannon ball), but I usually put up with it with as good a
grace as I could manage. We were to be given an armored car, four
halftracks, and two Kubelwagens. The list included enough men and
materials to sink a pocket battleship. I ignored it and waited to be given
what the others didn’t want. They started setting up vast battle plans
with three or four alternate plans if the enemy did this or that. Our attack plan was to be called “Goblin” and it was to be a lightning quick
pincer movement of men and vehicles. I tried to point out that goblins
didn’t have pincers and maybe we should call it operation “Crabby” or
maybe operation “Silverfish”. They ignored me and finished writing
out volumes of orders. We put Dave (I) in charge. Tim and Brian didn’t
like being blamed for things (especially things like losing the game for
us) and Dave was from Chicago and was used to getting blamed for
things. They gave me the armored car with the 20mm cannon and I was
to guard the rear (they probably figured that I couldn’t do much harm
back there). Tim started tooling up the dirt road with his two half
tracks while Dave started up the other side of the board with his two
half tracks into a grove of woods. Brian drove up the middle a little behind both advance groups and I sat back in the woods setting up what they called a wide field of fire but what I called a good place to hide.
Then we saw the Orcs!

They came out in hordes from a group of rocks in the middle of
the board. Monty had tricked us into thinking we were going to fight a
WW II battle and while he didn’t please the Tractics boys, I had a big
grin on my face. I started roaring up the side of the board towards the
Orcs wanting to tangle with the beasties, but that brought loud shouts
from my teammates. They pointed out in typical German fashion that I
had to obey orders and was to get back to where I belonged. I think
that’s where my mind switched from German to the common tongue.
The Orcs were cut to ribbons by a cross fire from the half tracks and
those that survived ran back into the rocks closely followed by Brian
and his Kubelwagens. Brian’s search revealed a secret tunnel. He was
going to enter it and blast anything in his path, but Tim (acting like
typical tricky SS storm trooper) suggested that it be booby trapped to
explode when it was opened again. Dave and Brian thought that was a
good idea and even I agreed (now thinking of it as a delayed blast fire
ball). A fourteenth level EHP jumped up (it was Dave II) and threw an
insect plague at us (he was used to sneaking up on things in a typical
Petal Thrown fashion). The bugs were terrible and Monty rolled two of
the German troopers dead from bites. I then suggested we toss a cloud
kill on the bugs in the form of smoke bombs and that took care of the
problem (they didn’t thank me).

Tim and Brian started saying something about “bore sighting” the
likely hiding places and the castle on the hill and our leader Dave was
talking about something called hedge hopping towards the primary
objective. I then realized that thinking in the common tongue had made
me unable to understand the language they were speaking. I just sat
back in the woods, waiting for more D&D goodies to come crawling
out of the hills. I have a funny feeling that it was the mortar fire that
Dave (I) was directing at the castle that caused the four storm giants to
come running out tossing boulders. Tim and Dave both laughed saying
that rocks couldn’t hurt their armored half tracks (while I was backing
my armor car behind some big trees). The first set of boulders crushed
in the front of one of Tim’s units and pushed over the unit of Dave’s
that had the mortar. Bullets (of all different calibers) didn’t seem to do
much to them. The bazooka took out one and Brian got two others with
his panzerfaust, but the remaining giant ruined one of his Kubelwagens
and its crew. Two hand grenades took care of the wounded giant and
we (or I should say the Tractics boys) started moving towards the castle
at maximum speed to make them a tougher target for rocks. So far we
had seen Orcs from Tom, and Giants from Robert and I figured now
that we were making it hot for the castle Ernie would be raising his
tricky head as a magic user and sure enough he jumped from another
pile of rocks as a warlock, after the German units had passed of course.
His fireball took out the half track that Tim had repaired and three of
the troopers escaped with their lives and a flame thrower. I opened up
on the pile of rocks he had come out of with my 20mm cannon (that 1
was now calling my lightning bolt thrower) and caused Ernie to run towards our little surprise in the other pile of rocks. We were all rewarded
by a very satisfying explosion (related to us by Monty) and Ernie was
supposed bits and pieces over a bunch of rocks.

Mike then told us all that he was taking out his flight wing. It was a
pack of Manticores, but Mike spoke of everything in WW I flight terms
and we all put up with it. He had the monsters go over Brian’s Kubelwagen in a strafing claw run and they ruined the thing. We then were
able to get him into a triple crossfire and were able to ruin him a little
too. Out of his ten uckies he was able to take one back into the castle
walls. Mike was pleased with his kill ratio (numbers of any type impressed him) when Brian told him that kamikaze flyers didn’t come
around until WW II. That got a laugh out of the rest of us, but he
didn’t even grin.

Little did we know that when Dave (II’s) heroes and Robert’s
superheroes were pelting us with arrows, Dave was raising Ernie for
some more magical help. We lost some men to the arrows and they lost
their heroes and superheroes to our return fire. We started mortaring
the castle and a panzerfaust took out the front gate. With the gate gone,
five Trolls rushed out at our Germans. Bullets and grenades didn’t do
much good because they regenerated too fast, it looked bad for us when
Brian thought of the flame thrower and burning Trolls (I guess he had
switched from German to the common tongue too). Then the stupid
Vampire of Tom’s rushed my armored car. My cannon a la lightning
bolt thrower did nothing to the thing and he started charming away my
men. I think it was Dave that suggested the use of phosphorous grenades on the thing. I didn’t even know I had any and according to Monty
it sure did the job on that Vampire. It soon was all over but the shouting. Ernie started plastering us with spells from a tower of the castle;
Dave as the EHP was sending out aerial servants right and left, Mummies and Ghouls from Tom and Robert came out of the ground, and
Mike had a flight reserve of one Roc that really broke the Sopwith
camel’s back as far as we were concerend.

We killed a few other things, but big deal; we were chomped in the
end by a magical barrage that would have turned the tide for the Germans on D-day. While it was a total loss for our side, I considered it a
personal victory for me. Not only had my D&D tactics helped us out
some of the other Tractics boys D&D thinking had aided our cause.
Proving, at least to myself and the few other sensible people reading
this, that things of the D&D nature are the best . . .

The Adventures of Monty Haul #3
THE THURSDAY NIGHT D&D GAME FOR MONTY AND THE BOYS
by James M. Ward
(Dragon #16)

It was Thursday night at Monty’s house and most of our group
had gotten together for our weekly D&D game. That night there was a
feeling among all of us that something really big was going to happen.

The group had decided to take down our low level characters for
the first adventure and we were getting out our booklets, graph paper,
metal figures, character charts, and copies of The Dragon to begin the
game. Then Freddie walked in and we all groaned our displeasure. It
wasn’t that any of us disliked Freddie, it was just his love of strange
things that made him hard to bear. Monty, our best DM, was always
willing to go along with our new ideas, but Freddie’s were really the pits
as far as we were concerned. Once, long ago at an Origins convention,
Freddie had been rummaging in a trash can and found a copy of some
strange D&D magazine nobody had ever heard of. In this thing was a
plan for a sword being that could be a player character. Freddie went
wild over the idea and immediately wanted several. All the rest of us, in
an effort to stop such madness, made Freddie play clerics, but Monty
loved challenges. Freddie got his wish and now had two player
characters that were swords. One was a low level thing and the other
had become a high level creature that no one could figure out
(especially Freddie, the user). With Freddie coming along we started
out with problems before we left the Gold Dragon Inn.

I had decided to take my little thirteenth level wizard. He was kind
of weak, having only sixty-nine hit points and eighteen’s in all his
categories save strength, but I liked him and liked to use my few spells
as opposed to artifacts and tech devices.

Dave wanted to take one of those strange “hoogies” (it sounded
something like that) but we were able to talk him out of it, in favor of
one of his twenty-fifth level clerics. Tom complained that all he had left
were demi-gods and so we made him start out with a new character at
the twelfth level. It served him right, having to start out all over like
that. Mike was going to take his tenth level gargoyle (as long as his
character could fly he never cared what it looked like). Will was the
only other guy there that night and while he had a bunch of good
characters he decided to take his fifteenth level hobbit thief. We all
tried to talk him out of it, but he had made up his mind. Little did we
know that his choice was the best of the lot.

Ernie, the adventure before, had gotten a weird golden chain that
displayed strange magical properties. After legend loring, contacting
higher planes, wishing about it, and communing we had found out that
all we needed to do was all step in an oval made by the chain and we
would be teleported to a land of great treasure and even greater danger.
Monty had really been tricky with this one and wasn’t telling us any
more information than he had already given out. It sounded like just
our cup of tea and we were going to take our little characters down first
because we felt a need to scout the area. So, we all put our figures in an
oval on the table (made out of gold thread) and regretted every second
after.

We appeared on a frosty plain of ice and snow with four Storm
Giants swinging their weapons and Monty chuckling something about
“minor guards”. We heard the sound of three clubs and a magic sword
going smash, smash, smash, and chop. Mike’s gargoyle was a grease
smear on one of the clubs, Tom’s Monk was down to one hit point,
Dave’s cleric was really hurting, and Jake’s golem had one of its arms
cut off by the vorpal sword. Robert clove one in two with his sword
while Ernie’s and my cold rays took care of two more (and the sword,
we found out a bit later). The last one was missed by the rest of the
group, but it didn’t miss me for thirty-six points of bruises and nicks.
With the next round, we were able to finish the giants off before the last
one did any more damage. They didn’t have a copper coin’s worth of
treasure on them, and we weren’t pleased. After a bunch of cure spells
and a raise dead on the gargoyle, we still hadn’t figured out what to do
about the golem’s arm. We just let it go and traveled on. Tim and Brian
put on some of the dead guard’s clothes (which everyone thought was a
good idea) and we were on our way towards a batch of caves.
 

The caves circled a huge crevasse and so naturally Freddie (the
sword) wanted to go to the bottom (the worst thing we could have
done). We all magically or physically flew down to the bottom by a
series of giant snow drifts which became huge “white puddings” as we
hit the snow covered earth. The things started chewing on everyone but
the stupid hobbit and even Jake the golem was taking damage. After we
blasted every one of the things with spells and five or six artifacts we
had them down to a batch of ice particles. They didn’t have any
treasure either and we had just started to grumble a little bit. We
traveled around and weren’t getting anything but frost bite (according
to Monty), when we came upon a warm cave. I think we entered the
cave more for the thought of warmth than anything else (we always
play our roles very seriously). The sight of the five Remorhaz didn’t
please any of us. I will not go into the gory details, but when all was
said and done we killed all the monsters and had a golem that was a
piece of slag and two giants that were smoking ash. We collected those
guys and threw them into our (or I should say Ernie’s) portable hole.
Naturally the treasure those things had was ruined in our magical
blasts. Our little grumbling was turning into loud mutters. We left the
bottom of the crevasse and explored some caves until we hit frost
giants. We killed them off in batches of four and five and while most
everyone was taking their lumps, none of the giants could hit that
stupid hobbit. We got used to having boulders by the dozen thrown at
us and unfortunately we also got used to finding little or no treasure.
Monty kept chuckling something about lowly guards under his breath
and that didn’t make any of us feel good at all. Finally we struck it big
and were struck several times. We ran into this huge batch of frost
giants. There were males, females, kids (fighting like ogres), and a pack
of white dog things. Well, I should have known better, but the thought
of all of those boulders they had been tossing at me since we hit the first
batch didn't please me. I said I was going to take on the dogs while
everyone else handled the giants (that was my first mistake). The other
guys started taking their chops or tossing spells in Ernie’s case. The
battle was shaping up to be a good one as more giants started streaming
in. The Frost Giant kids seemed to concentrate on Will, as the hobbit,
and while no one said it, everyone was very pleased to see him take
some of the heat off of everyone else in a way that might cause him a
little damage.

I rushed up to the dogs and summoned a seventh level monster
from a spell on a scroll I had, figuring it would take the heat off of me
(my second mistake). Those blasted dogs breathed cold blasts at me and
did all sorts of damage on my poor body. While my beasty was materializing, I sprinkled invisibility dust on myself; figuring that there were
plenty of other enemies for the dogs and they wouldn’t try to search me
out (my third mistake). Those twice blasted things started sniffing me
out and heading towards the corner I had run to. But it was too late for
them, my creature had arrived. I had managed to summon an ancient
red dragon. The dogs clumped together and breathed, but they were not
effective on that old red thing. The dragon killed the dogs with one
breath and while it turned to me for more directions, I was directing it
towards the remaining giants.

Dave was a red smear on a heap of boulders; Mike was a part of
eight or nine giant clubs; Tom and Will were just in the act of giving
their dying chop; Robert was in pretty good shape but five giants were
pressing him hard; that dumb Freddie had been almost unstoppable
and Ernie and his pet demon had accounted for the king and queen of
the giants. I headed the red dragon towards Freddie and his friends
(with a subconscious death wish to Freddie’s sword) and I directed a
hold spell on four of the giants trying to squash Ernie. I got them all in
a real lucky spell and Ernie took care of the batch that all hit Robert
with their clubs and killed him deader than dead. While the dragon had
taken care of the giants with his breath, in Freddie’s area (doing more
damage to Freddie than all the giants together), the giants had taken
care of my dragon with their dying chops. The battle was finished by a
well placed fire ball by me. After taking a few healing potions and collecting our dead in the portable hole, we looked around for treasure.
The giants had a big batch of chests and several groups of things like
skulls, horns, weapons, and rugs. I went for the skulls and grabbed a
beautiful gem encrusted one that immediately started to shout for some
creature called a “Drow”. We got the skull quieted down by smashing
it into a lot of pieces. We checked everything else out and got a horn of
Valhalla, a horn of bubbles, a flying carpet, and several hundred
thousand gold pieces worth of gems. We were thinking of leaving when
two black elves came in.

There was one in the form of a beautiful elven princess with jet
black skin and the other was an elven fighter type. Freddie charged in at
the woman trying to cleave her in half. Monty smiled again for the first
time since we started this latest battle and we knew we were in trouble.
Monty said the Drow princess grabbed Freddie, negating all his
magical abilities, and snapped Freddie in half. We all cheered, we
couldn’t help ourselves! When something great like that happens, even
if it hurts the group, you have to give the deed some credit. We started
throwing spell after spell to no avail, the princess was too tough. She
stood there doing nothing as yet and we started getting very concerned
for our welfare. Her companion simply stood at her side with his sword
drawn, obviously there to guard her. We had made our saving throw
against several death rays and hold spells when we both had the same
thought. Ernie and I shouted out that we were tossing charm spells at
the fighter. Ernie got the thing and he directed it to fight the princess.
She snapped his sword and killed the fighter by turning him into ashes.
She then turned to us and we took that as our cue to teleport out
(without Freddie’s broken sword, of course). After all was said and
done, the loss of Freddie’s sword was the best thing that happened on
the adventure!

The Adventures of Monty Hall
MONTY STRIKES BACK
by James M. Ward
(Dragon #21)

We were on a winter level tonight and were far from
pleased. It was Friday, one of our usual D&D@ nights
and we were going down into a refrigerated level of
Monty’s that we had found weeks before. We had all
made fur coats for our figures and most of the group
was going down. Robert, Jake, and Dave (I) (Tractics
boys through and through) were going down as their
20th level fighters; Brian (a tractics lover too, but a
fanatic on Western Gunfight) was going down as their
20th level fighters; Brian (a tractics lover too, but a
fanatic on Western Gunfight) was going as his 21st
level thief/fighter/cleric dwarf; Ernie, Dave (II), and I
were going down as wizards of the 18th level (just little
guys); Freddie was his stupid high level sword carried
by a flesh golem from Jake’s golem squadron; Tom and
Tim went as druids (probably because they liked all
types of herbs).

The three ancient white dragons guarding the door
were no problem. It was just a matter of running in the
chamber hasted and invisible and throwing three hold
monsters at things. They didn’t have any treasure, they
were just there to slow us down a bit. As we walked
through the door ‘Monty gave his “evil” chuckle
(which always meant we were in big trouble) and we
were told that we were sliding down a sheet of glare ice.
We wound up pinioned against a mass of ice spears and
everybody but Freddie had taken damage. He then
thought it would be a great idea to use his flaming
power to melt the spears away. Ernie and I, knowing
the horrors Monty could think up, tried to stop him but
it was too late. We were hit from above by partially
melted ice stalactites and again Freddie was the only
one unhurt.

None of us were pleased, but we all took it in stride
and started off in a southerly direction hoping for a
warmer climate. That’s when we met the “Wolfoids”.
Monty didn’t call them that, he called them humanoids
with wolf heads and we weren’t worried (but I had a
suspicion this level was turning out to be far from
kosher). Robert and Tim rushed out in the lead (our
Diplomacy experts) and were going to talk but the
“Wolfoids” weren’t in the mood. They started to glow
and came in swinging big pikes while the leader of the
group unlimbered a pistol of some type and burnt off
one arm of the flesh golem, (the one with Freddie in it).
We magic users threw out a horde of magic missiles
that Monty told us bounced off the glowing shields
around the “Wolfoids”. The things hacked at our three
fighters their round and our hacks back didn’t even
touch them. Then our Druids really came through and
warped the wood of the pikes and the wolves sat
stunned for a turn while we made a mud pond for their
feet. Their glowing shields went out in their struggle to
be free and they were easy meat then. We managed to
get the gun away and Ernie and I had a discussion on
who of us two should get it for the adventure since we
were the only ones in Monty’s game (with these
characters) that had used pistols of any type (much to
the disgust of the tractics boys and Brian.) I let Ernie
have it, nice guy that I am; besides, how did I know
Monty didn’t have a self destruct mechanism attached
for the tenth shot or something?

We traveled down an ever widening corridor and
were confronted by three oval robots. All of us had
fought robots in the past and we had a healthy respect
for them (especially Ernie who refused to even come
close to them). Tim and Robert went out again to try to
talk to them and weren’t pleased with the results.
Glowing tentacles went out and tapped them on the
shoulder (before they could duck, of course) and
caused them to fall unconscious to the ground. They
both started yelling about saving throws, magical
armor, and artifacts but Monty just smiled that “go
and kill yourselves will ya” grin of his and told them
they were out of it for awhile. The stupid things started
coming towards us with those tentacles out and
glowing and thoughts of running crossed our minds.
Dave (II) then had a brilliant thought and told
Monty he was telekenesing Freddie over to the robots.
This brought large protests from the ever retreating
Freddie and even larger smiles from the rest of us (it
must have been all that typical Petal Throne sadistic
thinking that gave him that idea). Naturally, when one
of the robots reached out and grabbed Freddie the
swords powers took over and he had control of the
robot (something Freddie would have never thought
of by himself). He used it to get the other two and we
had a new flunky. When we found 17 huge gems in each
robot we had to restrain Ernie from breaking Freddie’s
robot open for its treasure. He kept saying something
about “the treasure jingling in the wrong pockets” or
something like that.

Anyway, the frosty corridor ended in a metal door
that we had to knock spell open, which really irritated
Robert and Jake who had on girdles of Storm Giant
strength. The door opened out onto a multi-roomed
chamber. Brian was told by Monty that his infravision
picked up some strange emanations in the room with a
clear panel wall blocking it. Dave (1) charged right
through it in typical blitzkrieg fashion and promptly
received ten dice of damage with Monty explaining it
as being strange painful burn welts. I felt I knew what
was happening, but I wasn’t saying anything untill was
sure. Just in case I was right I moved my figure to the
back of the group and took Ernie’s with me. We didn’t
find anything in the rooms but some cheap steel
bracelets with colored rectangles on their tops. I took
one of every color with nobody saying anything about
it because they all thought I was kind of greedy
anyway. Freddie was able to find an ice blocked door
and Dave (II) melted the ice and Monty showed us a
picture of what it looked like. I noted the color band
strip on the side of the door while Dave said he was
opening it with a knock spell. I secretly passed Ernie a
note telling him that we weren’t in our relatively safe
and happy D&D@ land, but in the horrible, insane
world of Metamorphosis Alpha. We all had a copy of
the rules, but didn’t play it because it was too tame for
most of us.

Ernie and I stayed back to watch the fun as Dave (1)
and Tom took our figures through the door. We were
greeted with a winter forest scene and Tim and Tom
wanted everyone to follow them saying that only
druids could truly work best in a forested outdoor. It
was a minute later that the trees started grabbing for
the front members of our party. Tim and Tom both
cast plant control spells and went wild when they saw
Monty rolling three six-sided dice for saving throws
for all the trees.

“What do you mean they get saving throws?" asked
Tim. “I’m a druid, I know all about plants."

Just then we all failed to make our saving throws and
lost six hit points each. Ernie and I ran and all the rest
followed suit. We came to a wall and an open door and
Freddie took the robot in, not worried about any type
of attack hurting him. He and the robot were grabbed
and forced into a pressing machine. The robot was
ruined (so were his gems) but Monty allowed Freddie
to come out of the machine as a long strip of very flat
metal, not useable as a sword, but still having its
magical powers. From out of these machines came a
horde of winged snakes of huge size. The fighters
rushed up swinging with their swords and were greeted
by batches of spat poison. Jake and Robert died (not
making their minus four poison saving throw) and
Dave (I) had his sword split apart by the action of the
snake’s acid poison. That didn’t bother Dave, he just
pulled out his second vorpal blade and went on
swinging. Tim, Tom, and Brian all threw snake
charms at the things and without rolling a saving
throw, Monty said they didn’t work. Those three
started shouting about all snakes getting saving throws
no matter what type. Monty (smiling again) siad
“That’s true if what you were fighting were reptiles.”
Everyone but Ernie and I sat there with their mouths
open wondering what they had gotten themselves into.
We tossed sleep spells and got the whole batch (making
me wish I had taken lots more sleep spells). We found
piles of copper and silver bars and when we tried to
teleport them away they wouldn’t go. This made Dave
(II), Ernie, and I start to sweat, but a wish worked so we
weren’t worried; if we had to get out of there surely one
of us had a wish spell. Robert’s “Rod of Seven Parts”
brought him back to life and Jake’s “Ring of Gax”
woke him up after we promised to sacrifice ten elves to
it and we were on our way again.

As we were traveling in this outdoor section of the
level, we came across a herde of blue cattle with long
horns. It didn’t bother us (except for Ernie and me) and
Monty told us they were clustering around a thing we
couldn’t see. We all went closer and Monty rolled just
one set of three six-siders and told us all we were down
to one hit point. That was just too much for most of us.
We had been spat at, plant grabbed, almost killed, and
radiated and it was time for us to strike back. We
unlimbered stuff we hardly ever used. Tim took out
his “Eldest Worm Orb”; Jake took out his, “Sword and
Eye of Vecna”; Robert took out his “Rod of Seven
Parts”, Brian summoned his “Servant of Leuk-O”;
Dave (II) grabbed his “Horn of Change”; Dave (I)
summoned his flying (“Throne of the Gods”; Tom
took out his “Sabre of Kas”; just to follow suit and not
be shown up by the rest of the boys; Ernie grabbed his
“Orb and Sceptre of Magic”, and I took out my
“Stokes Co’Agulator”. After we were through firing,
spelling, changing, and melting there wasn’t anything
left where the cows had been, but a big hole in the
ground. Unfortunately for us Monty started laughing.

You have to know something about Monty to
appreciate this. When he is fooling us and we are
stumped (which happens often), he is all smiles. When
we do stupid things (which happens not quite as often,
but almost) he smiles and chuckles. When we pull off
great tricks and beat or are beating his prize stuff ( a
rare occasion), he takes it seriously and still has fun
right along side of us. But when he laughs after we just
blew apart one of his pet things, we all knew we were in
“big” trouble. Ernie and I both looked at each other
with that “shall we teleport our of this mess?” look,
then the thought came to both of us that we couldn’t.
We both made a grab for each others spell lists to see if
the 9th level wish spell was on them (they weren’t). We
grabbed for Dave’s and we didn’t find one there either!
Monty told us that out of the hole we had made was

coming a batch of green vines. Tom, Tim, and Brian’s
speak with plants spells worked great on the first batch
and they were ordered away. The second batch that
came out almost immediately was pink and they
ignored Tom, Tim. and Brian’s spells. Robert, Jake,
and Dave (I) chopped them to pieces and that worked
fine. The third batch of plants were pink and scaled and
ignored chops and clerical spells and the magic users
had to lend a hand and that worked fine. I was all for
running (I want that noted for posterity) but Ernie said
“thing of the great treasure this thing must be
guarding” and nine sets of greedy eyes sparkled at the
thought. We all unlimbered our artifacts and again
watched a batch of red and pink, scaly, plant vines
come out of the hole. We let loose with the same type of
blast that took out the cows and then we rushed up to
the hole to go blast at its source. We were greeted by a
growing batch of orange, red, and pink dotted, scaly,
plant vines that seemed to be growing from huge tanks
below us. We all knew that were were in trouble but we
had to try. so we gave this thing a blast to no effect and
we were all grabbed. I thing it was Robert who yelled
“try psionics” and we all used our powers to blast it
once more. Monty said we could see the new yellow,
red, orange, and pink dotted, scaly, plant vines
growing out of the tank. That was too much for us and
we tried to leave by pouring etherial potions over
ourselves. The vines grabbed our etherial bodies and
that was the least we ever saw of our characters.
THE END???
 
 
 

The Adventures of Monty Haul
MONTY HAUL AND THE BEST OF FREDDIE
by James M. Ward
{Dragon #24}

The Bronze Dragon was of tremendous size for its breed,
measuring over 80 hands long and able to rear to a height of more than
half that. The creature had gleaming claws as sharp and damaging as
scimitars; buffed with gold dust. Its fanged jaws were kept sharp by
biting heavy platemail vests that were a part of its horde. Its massive
scaled body rested regally on an altar made of its own gold and silver.
Chalices of platinum and coffers of gems and jewels were all about,
arranged to please the delicate sensibilities of the dragon. Its giant eyes,
that had been but a moment before closed in dragonslumber, opened,
aware of the tread of footsteps down the echoing marble corridor,
designed for just that echoing effect.

A knight, one of the paladin order, led the group into the dragon’s
lair. Normally the fighter would have dealth peaceably with this species
of dragonkind, but he could sense the evil inherent in it and he led the
others with a cry of battle. “Rumple Snits!” He was closely followed by
another warrior of proven powers but less worthy reputation. Behind
them were two age-old wizards, an archdruid bedecked in lincoln
green, and a bard of Canaith. All were in the act of casting spells to
subdue, rend, or otherwise ruin an otherwise perfectly healthy 500
year-old dragon. All of this effort was, of course, to no avail. A greenish
gas, smelling faintly of chlorine, belched forth from the dragon, covering
the entire group of adventurers. The screams from every human could
be heard echoing loudly down the marble corridor.

“Freddie!” said Monty, Brian, and Tim. “Bronze Dragons do not
breathe poison gas and they aren’t evil!”

“And,” interjected the rest of the adventurers, “Do you know the
odds of all of your spells not working? How come we couldn’t see the
dice rolls?"

Freddie, the DM, grinned sheepishly, knowing he had made a
mistake; perhaps more than one, but he had to cover it up with his own
illogic. “This breed of dragon has been mutated by close contact to
awesome magical forces and I say it spews chlorine gas!” Ever since
Monty bought a copy of Metamorphosis Alpha the guys had been
mutating things right and left, ad nauseum. This was really the last straw
for some of us. Brian, as his bard, pulled out his special Harp of Discord,
or was it Datcord?, and initiated its destructive properties; Tim, as his
archdruid, pulled out his oak wand and smashed the dragon with the
force of a forest; Monty (not to be outdone by a druid or a bard)
unpacked his Symbol of the Hammer and threw Lightning of the Gods
at the thing; Ernie unloosed an artifact he hadn’t even told us about; and
I, seeing what was happening to that poor beastie, used a wish from one
of my many wish rings to save what I could of the treasure horde being
subjected to the Gods only knew how much destructive energy. Need I
say it? The thing never had a chance; it’s quite one thing when you use
spells that allow for a saving throw, and quite another when you use
Artifacts of Power

The treasure proved to be little more than the average run of the
mill stuff. The gold, silver, and gems were worth about 1,000,000 and
Ernie picked up a polymorph wand (he didn’t have one in his
collection); Tim would have happily grabbed the evil purpose sword
wrapped in demon skin, not because he could use it, but because he
could sell it, or, at least trade it, for something a druid could use (to better
the forest, of course). Joe, he of the paladin persuasion, naturally
insisted on its destruction and he couldn’t be refused or he’d pack up his
Holy Sword and go home. That’s what is so wrong about paladins, they
are so cursedly honest. Joe liked playing them and no one could dispute
that they didn’t have their place in the cosmic scheme of things. It really
cut down on the type of characters we could use around him. We all had
to take some of our more unusual flunkies or player characters, but
what the heck, it never hurt to rough it once in a while, and Freddie was
a lightweight as far as DM’s went and we should have been able to beat
his best. Ernie used his artifact to teleport each of our shares to each of our holdings, except for the pladin, who took only a small coffer of big
gems (for the Old Fighters Home, of course)

A rough hewn passage led out of the dragon lair that was more
than big enogh to let the dragon pass. We traveled down it and came to
several interconnecting passages that we mapped thoroughly. For
Brian and I, mapping the dungeon was half the fun of playing the game.
We were always quick to correct each others’ errors when one or the
other had his map slightly off when connecting passages or chambers or
rooms. Unfortunately usually Brian doing the correcting.

Normally, we would have allowed the Balrog, three Gorgons, and
the Pyrohydra we ran across in our travels to continue their miserable
existences unmolested. They wouldn’t normally be worth our time and
effort. Joe, the paladin, couldn’t let us get away with that. So, we
snuffed the things and suffered in the process. Joe was turned to stone
by a Gorgon and there was a great deal of debate about unstoning him,
with him looking on in stony horror. Our alignments and the
marvelousness of his holy sword decided the issue. I zapped him back
and we trudged on until we came to the entrance to the “Caverns of the
Artificer.” We knew that because it was written all over the door we
broke down to get in (Freddie was far from subtle). The first thing we ran
into a batch of five Wizards of at least the 16th level because they were
tossing eight level spells at us. That didn’t bother Joe until they started
summoning 6th level monsters. They came up with a gold dragon, an
iron golem, and a vampire; in a series of random? rolls that were very
hard to believe. In the ensuing battle, we used up Brian’s harp, about 8
pounds of oak and mistletoe branches, Ernie’s character, and Joe’s holy
sword, but we killed the 5 wizards. They had some magic items none of
us had ever seen before and we just plopped them in Ernie’s portable
hole along with the pieces of Ernie’s character that even a wish couldn’t
bring back. Our computers could usually figure out anything we gave
them to analyze. They should, after all; we had to use deomon energy to
power the things.

We were hurting as a group, but we didn’t want to call this dungeon
quits until we came across Freddie’s best level encounter. Then we
entered a marble veneered hall and knew we had hit the Freddie
“jackpot.”

Every Dm has his or her own mannerisms that an experienced
player should be able to pick up on and gain clues from. Monty stopped
smiling when any of his groups were doing too well and he started
grinning when we were about to get really crunched. Tim started piling
on the detail in every one of his descriptions as if that would keep us
from grabbing all the goodies to be found in his dungeon. I am even told
that I start to stall and multiply by a factor of ten all the original monsters I
had guarding a particularly fine treasure, but that’s a gross exaggeration
of the facts. [Oh, No! It’s not. Ed.] Anyway, Freddie always started to
talk fast when we came near something he didn’t want us to destroy. He
was talking a mile a minute as we mapped out an area with a huge
section at the center of our maps that was enclosed by corridors. This
was just shouting secret door, so Joe used his belt of Storm Giant
Strength and a stone club, and bashed the walls until we hit the secret
door. Instead of attacking an already worned batch of thingies behind
the door, I wished us into the past a few hours with all the knowledge we
had gained up until the time of the wish. Naturally, Freddie rolled us up
a wandering monster and we had to fight a batch of Specres that hit us
far too often and forced me to use a couple more wishes to get our levels
back.

We crashed through the secret door and saw a group of women
praying in front of an altar made out of what seemed to be weaving
plants. The women were barely dressed in silks and jewelry and they all
turned to face us when we came crashing into the place. It has always
been my experience that D&D® is the one truly liberated women game;
one of the few gamers where a women can be as terrifying and as
powerful as a man and these women were no exception. The paladin
was able to tell these ladies were evil through and through, and we
moved in on them and cast spells. They each had a ring of spell turning
on, and we were innundated with spells of charming and confusing. I
was confused and started wandering away. Their attacks were all high
level clerical spells and a gate spell caused a face to appear in the
vegetable altar. Somehow they made Joe deaf and slowed him down
and those plants were animated and started to move towards us at an
alarming rate.

The plant altar was obviously Tim’s department and he threw a
druidic anti-plant spell on himself and charged the thing. Monty took
care of my wandering with a dispell magic. Joe, the paladin, hadn’t
decided yet whether he could cleave a barely dressed woman, but the
death ray one of them threw at him made up his mind quickly. Their
round didn’t hurt us a bit and Monty used up the last of his Thunder
Symbols and killed two of the seven ladies. Brian started composing
poetry while putting out his (what else?) singing sword. Brian was very
good at D&D®, but like all of us he really threw himself into his character
and his poetry was really strange. It was good that his powers allowed us
to hit the enemy better, but the poetry was like a fire ball in the guts. The
ladies took care of Joe with five death rays. We took care of all save one,
who must have been the high priestess, with area spells. Tim, we were
told, was immersed in a ball of vegetation connected to the altar. That
lasted until he cast his turn wood spell. Those druids are really handy
against wood; unfortunately, the face in the altar gave a nod Tim’s way
and the vegetation only grew the faster, changing to a much darker
shade of green and becoming immune to the waves of druidic force. On
the priestess’ turn, she leapt on two of her dead comrades’ bodies,
touched two others, and the whole group vanished. My plane shifting
artifact recorded the fact that she went to another plane, but we were
soon too busy to worry about grabbing her. The stupid altar was
starging to give the archdruid problems of the lethal kind. Somehow it
was resisting all of his druid spells (much to the vocal irritation of the
character) and he was forced to chop his way out with his scimitar.

The time for simple measures were long over and we were playing
for keeps now. Monty cut loose with his ring of Gax. Brian winded his
Horn of Change. I pulled out my Jacinth of Inestimable Beauty,
covered my eyes (including my astral eye) and activated the “orange
glow.” When Tim pulled out his Rod of Seven Parts, we all knew the
game was really do or die. That thing was more dangerous to the user
and the entire dungeon that it was to the thing it faced. Plus the fact that
Tim told Freddie that he was activating all seven parts at once
(something he had never done and we had always feared he would do).
Our unnamed enemy went poof, the altar and much of that area of the
chamber also went poofunder the effects of the forces that we let loose.

Astoundingly, we were still alive after what we had started. We
sacked the place and put it all in the center of the chamber for
teleportation purposes and it was back! That was it as far as I was
concerned and I soon found out that it was the same with the other
guys. We had taken some heavy duty shots and they hadn’t been
enough. It was time to cut out losses and run. We all magicked ouselves
out of there, back to our separate strongholds. I imagined myself resting
with my master in his hold and telling him of the power of that plant
thing. Freddie ended the adventure by telling us that we were hearing
screams from the tower wall guards describing the creeping of white
power, gold flecked, plant vines all over the walls . . .
 

MONTY STRIKES BACK
James M. Ward
(Dragon #28)

We were on a winter level tonight and were far from pleased. It was
Friday, one of our usual D&D nights and we were going down into a
refrigerated level of Monty’s that we had found weeks before. We had
all made fur coats for our figures and most of the group was going down.
Robert, Jake, and Dave (I) (Tractics boys through and through) were
going down as their 20th level fighters; Brian (a tractics lover too, but a
fanatic on Western Gunfight) was going as his 21st level thief/fighter/
cleric dwarf; Ernie, Dave (II), and I were going down as wizards of the
18th level (just little guys); Freddie was his stupid high level sword carried by a flesh golem from Jake’s golem squadron; Tom and Tim went
as druids (probably because they liked all types of herbs).

The three ancient white dragons guarding the door were no problem. It was just a matter of running in the chamber hasted and invisible
and throwing three hold monsters at the things. They didn’t have any
treasure, they were just there to slow us down a bit. As we walked
through the door Monty gave his “evil” chuckle (which always meant
we were in big trouble) and we were told that we were sliding down a
sheet of glare ice. We wound up pinioned against a mass of ice spears
and everybody but Freddie had taken damage. He then thought it
would be a great idea to use his flaming power to melt the spears away.
Ernie and I, knowing the horrors Monty could think up, tried to stop him
but it was too late. We were hit from above by partially melted ice stalactites and again Freddie was the only one unhurt.

None of us were pleased, but we all took it in stride and started off
in a southerly direction hoping for a warmer climate. That’s when we
met the “Wolfoids”. Monty didn’t call them that, he called them
humanoids with wolf heads and we weren’t worried (but I had a suspicion this level was turning out to be far from kosher). Robert and Tim
rushed out in the lead (our Diplomacy experts) and were going to talk
but the “Wolfoids” weren’t in the mood. They started to glow and came
in swinging big pikes while the leader of the group unlimbered a pistol of
some type and burnt off one arm of the flesh golem, (the one with
Freddie in it). We magic users threw out a horde of magic missiles that
Monty told us bounced off the glowing shields around the “Wolfoids”.
The things hacked at our three fighters their round and our hacks back
didn’t even touch them. Then our Druids really came through and
warped the wood of the pikes and the wolves sat stunned for a turn
while we made a mud pond for their feet. Their glowing shields went out
in their struggle to be free and they were easy meat then. We managed
to get the gun away and Ernie and I had a discussion on who of us two
should get it for the adventure since we were the only ones in Monty’s
game (with these characters) that had used pistols of any type (much to
the disgust of the tractics boys and Brian). I let Ernie have it, nice guy
that I am; besides, how did I know Monty didn’t have a self destruct
mechanism attached for the tenth shot or something?

We traveled down an ever widening corridor and were confronted
by three oval robots. All of us had fought robots in the past and we had a
healthy respect for them (especially Ernie who refused to even come
close to them). Tim and Robert went out again to try to talk to them and
weren’t pleased with the results. Glowing tentacles went out and tapped
them on the shoulder (before they could duck, of course) and caused
them to fall unconscious to the ground. They both started yelling about
saving throws, magical armor, and artifacts but Monty just smiled that
“go and kill yourselves will ya” grin of his and told them they were out of
it for awhile. The stupid things started coming towards us with those
tentacles out and glowing and thoughts of running crossed our minds.
Dave (II) then had a brilliant thought and told Monty he was telekenesing Freddie over to the robots. This brought large protests from the ever
retreating Freddie and even larger smiles from the rest of us (it must
have been all that typical Petal Throne sadistic thinking that gave him
that idea). Naturally, when one of the robots reached out and grabbed
Freddie the swords powers took over and he had control of the robot
(something Freddie would have never thought of by himself). He used it
to get the other two and we had a new flunky. When we found 17 huge
gems in each robot we had to restrain Ernie from breaking Freddie’s
robot open for its treasure. He kept saying something about “the treasure jingling in the wrong pockets” or something like that.

Anyway, the frosty corridor ended in a metal door and we had to
knock spell open, which really irritated Robert and Jake who had on
girdles of Storm Giant strength. The door opened out onto a multiroomed chamber. Brian was told by Monty that his infravision picked
up some strange emanations in a room with a clear panel wall blocking
it. Dave (I) charged right through it in typical blitzkrieg fashion and
promptly received ten dice of damage with Monty explaining it as being
strange painful burn welts. I felt I knew what was happening, but I
wasn’t saying anything until I was sure. Just in case I was right I moved
my figure to the back of the group and took Ernie’s with me. We didn’t
find anything in the rooms but some cheap steel bracelets with colored
rectangles on their tops. I took one of every color with nobody saying
anything about it because they all thought I was kind of greedy anyway.
Freddie was able to find an ice blocked door and Dave (II) melted the ice
and Monty showed us a picture of what it looked like. I noted the color
band strip on the side of the door while Dave said he was opening it with
a knock spell. I secretly passed Ernie a note telling him that we weren’t in
our relatively safe and and happy D&D land, but in the horrible, insane
world of Metamorphosis Alpha. We all had a copy of the rules, but
didn’t play it because it was too tame for most of us.

Ernie and I stayed back to watch the fun as Dave (I) and Tom took
our figures through the door. We were greeted with a winter forest
scene and Tim and Tom wanted everyone to follow them saying that
only druids could truly work best in a forested outdoor. It was a minute
later that the trees started grabbing for the front members of our party.
Tim and Tom both cast plant control spells and went wild when they
saw Monty rolling three six-sided dice for saving throws for all the trees.

“What do you mean they get saving throws?” asked Tim. “I’m a
druid, I know all about plants.”

Just then we all failed to make our saving throws and lost six hit
points each. Ernie and I ran and all the rest followed suit. We came to a
wall and an open door and Freddie took the robot in, not worried about
any type of attack hurting him. He and the robot were grabbed and
forced into a pressing machine. The robot was ruined (so were his
gems) but Monty allowed Freddie to come out of the machine as a long
strip of very flat metal, not useable as a sword, but still having its magical
powers. From out of these machines came a horde of winged snakes of
huge size. The fighters rushed up swinging with their swords and were
greeted by batches of spat poison. Jake and Robert died (not making
their minus four poison saving throw) and Dave (I) had his sword split
apart by the action of the snake’s acid poison. That didn’t bother Dave,
he just pulled out his second vorpal blade and went on swinging. Tim,
Tom, and Brian all threw snake charms at the things and without rolling
a saving throw, Monty said they didn’t work. Those three started shouting about all snakes getting saving throws no matter what type. Monty
(smiling again) said “That’s true if what you were fighting were reptiles.” Everyone but Ernie and I sat there with their mouths open wondering what they had gotten themselves into. We tossed sleep spells and
got the whole batch (making me wish I had taken lots more sleep spells.)
We found piles of copper and silver bars and when we tried to teleport
them away they wouldn’t go. This made Dave (II), Ernie, and I start to
sweat, but a wish worked so we weren’t worried; if we had to get out of
there surely one of us had a wish spell. Robert’s “Rod of Seven Parts”
brought him back to life and Jake’s “Ring of Gax” woke him up after we
promised to sacrifice ten elves to it and we were on our way again.

As we were traveling in this outdoor section of the level, we came
across a herd of blue cattle with long horns. It didn’t bother us (except
for Ernie and me) and Monty told us they were clustering around a thing
we couldn’t see. We all went closer and Monty rolled just one set of
three six-siders and told us all we were down to one hit point. That was
just too much for most of us. We had been spat at, plant grabbed, almost killed, and radiated and it was time for us to strike back. We unlimbered stuff we hardly ever used. Tim took out his “Eldest Worm Orb”;
Jake took out his “Sword and Eye of Vecna”; Robert took out his “Rod
of Seven Parts”; Brian summoned his “Servant of Leuk-O”; Dave (II)
grabbed his “Horn of Change”; Dave (I) summoned his flying “Throne
of the Gods”; Tom took out his “Sabre of Kas”; just to follow suit and
not be shown up by the rest of the boys, Ernie grabbed his “Orb and
Sceptre of Magic,” and I took out my “Stokes Co-Agulator.” After we
were through firing, spelling, changing, and melting there wasn’t any
thing left where the cows had been, but a big hole in the ground. Unfortunately for us Monty started laughing.

You have to know something about Monty to appreciate this.
When he is fooling us and we are stumped (which happens often), he is
all smiles. When we do stupid things (which happens not quite as often,
but almost) he smiles and chuckles. When we pull off great tricks and
beat or are beating his prize stuff (a rare occasion, he takes it seriously
and still has fun right along side of us. But when he laughs after we just
blew apart one of his pet things, we all knew we were in “big” trouble.
Ernie and I both looked at each other with that “shall we teleport out of
this mess?” look, then the thought came to both of us that we couldn’t.
We both made a grab for each other’s spell lists to see if the 9th level
wish spell was on them (they weren’t). We grabbed for Dave’s and we
didn’t find one there either! Monty told us that out of the hole we had
made was coming a batch of green vines. Tom, Tim, and Brian’s speak
with plants spells worked great on the first batch and they were ordered
away. The second batch that came out almost immediately was pink
and they ignored Tom, Tim, and Brian’s spells. Robert, Jake, and Dave
(I) chopped them to pieces and that worked fine. The third batch of
plants were pink and scaled and ignored chops and clerical spells and
the magic users had to lend a hand and that worked fine. I was all for
running (I want that noted for posterity) but Ernie said “think of the
great treasure this thing must be guarding” and nine sets of greedy eyes
sparkled at the thought. We all unlimbered our artifacts and again
watched a batch of red and pink, scaly, plant vines come out of the hole.
We let loose with the same type of blast that took out the cows and then
we rushed up to the hole to go blast at its source. We were greeted by a
growing batch of orange, red, and pink dotted, scaly, plant vines that
seemed to be growing from huge tanks below us. We all knew that we
were in trouble but we had to try, so we gave this thing a blast to no
effect and we were all grabbed. I think it was Robert who yelled “try
psionics” and we all used our powers to blast it once more. Monty said
we could see the new yellow, red, orange, and pink dotted, scaly, plant
vines growing out of the tank. That was too much for us and we all tried
to leave by pouring ethereal potions over ourselves. The vines grabbed
our ethereal bodies and that was the last we ever saw of our characters.

OUT ON A LIMB

‘The same article’
Dear Editor,

Strange though they may be, I usually find
myself looking forward to the “Monty Haul”
stories by James Ward. However, I was greatly
annoyed by “Monty Strikes Back” in your August
1979 issue. This is because the same article
appeared in the December 1978 issue of your
magazine. I don’t see how this could have happened
and am interested in hearing an explanation.

Curt Hicks—TX
(The Dragon #32)
 

We used the wrong galley of type at the last
minute. Monty Haul went into that particular issue
at the last minute to replace a piece that didn’t
come thru on time. So sorry . . . .

—ED.
(Tim Kask)
(The Dragon #32)
 

‘Tomfoolery’

Dear Editor:
I should like first of all to express my sympathies
to “Rebellion” in issue #44 (Out on a <link>
Limb). I too know of a campaign in which
85th-level NPC Magic-Users shot 1-mile-radius
fireballs that slew gods; a town of 5,000
population in which you could only survive if
you were greater than 30th level, 75-foot mutant
orcs, rings of infinite wishes, monks of
AC -28, etc. etc.

When I considered entering this campaign,
after the initial disbelief, I asked if I could have
a half-elven 8th-level Fighter, 5th-level Cleric,
8th-level Magic-User. For magic items I asked
for a +5 plate, +5 shield, gauntlets of ogre
power, girdle of storm giant strength, ring of
regeneration, a ring of elemental command
and a Stormbringer, just to see the reaction of
the DM. I was flabbergasted to hear him tell
me that I could not have such a character, as it
would not be powerful enough to survive in
his campaign,

As a result, I have not played in an AD&D
game for over six months, as this is the only
DM in my area. I miss playing the game, but I
would much rather not play the AD&D game
than play such a corrupted version of what
can be an excellent and very enjoyable game.

I would hope to see this letter printed so
that other players will not think that sort of
thing happens only to them, and also to encourage
them to boycott such "liberties" taken
by the DM until they find an acceptable
campaign.  The only reason that DM's can go
off the deep end like this is because they have
players who will accept it.  If we all refuse to
participate in such tomfoolery, it is just possible
that we can erase such "Monty Haul"
campaigns from the realm of all role-playing
games, not just the AD&D game.
 

Bill de Haan
Oakville, Ontario, Canada
(Dragon #47)

THE FORUM

We hear a lot about overly generous DMs and
Monty Haul campaigns that result in ludicrously
powerful characters who have no further possibili-
ties but a ho-hum tour of the outer planes going
through pantheons like they used to go through
kobold lairs.

It is my belief and contention that this im-
balance is not always the fault of an unwise
referee ? it is built into the game! For example,
a 17th level fighter needs to roll a 4 to hit armor
class 0. What happens if the fighter has a strength
bonus and a magic sword? If he has managed to
survive until 17th level, it?s not altogether un-
likely that he has acquired  gauntlets of ogre
power  (which he may have gotten in the G series
of modules), giving him a strength of 18/00. If he
also has a +5 sword (not totally out of the question
for a 17th level fighter), this makes reduces his
roll to hit AC 0 to a -4! In other words, he  auto-
matically  hits, twice per round, anything with AC
-5 or worse.

Perhaps the fighter is accompanied by an 18th
level magic-user whose favorite spell is  time stop
and a high-level cleric who can cast resurrection
on him just in case. Maybe they also have a  cube
of force  picked up in the D series modules.
Maybe the trusting but unwary DM has had
them through a couple of official modules, such
as  Lost Temple of Tharizdun,  where their ability
scores can get raised beyond 18, and there are a
couple of them with primary characteristics of 20
or more. These guys will toss off huge, red drag-
ons in much the same spirit that you or I kill
cockroaches, and even nycadaemons won?t give
them too hard a time.

If characters like these started at first level and
worked their way up legitimately over a period of
(real-world) years of almost daily play, most
players wouldn?t take kindly to junking the
campaign and starting over. If there is a solution
to this other than placing an arbitrary limit on
level advancement, switching to RuneQuest
(where even rune lords aren?t this powerful), or
beefing up the deities, I?d like to hear about it.

David F. Godwin
Lynn Haven. Fla.

*    *    *    *

In response to Mr. Godwin's letter in issue #87
about "Monty Haul campaigns . . . being built
into the game," I wish to simply point out that
there is a paragraph in virtually every module
that TSR, Inc., puts on the market (usually
under the heading of Dungeon Master's Notes)
that explains to the DM something to the effect of
: If this dungeon doesn't suit your present cam-
paign, feel free to alter it in any way for your
players. Mr. Godwin's disappointment at
Gauntlets of Ogre Power being in the G series
dungeons (something I?m sure any fighter who
read that issue and who had not been in any G
series module would have  loved  to hear about,
and if he didn?t catch it there he?ll get it here)
could have greatly been avoided by simple re-
moval, reduction in force, or replacement of that
magic item.

?Monty Haul? characters aren?t as nasty as so
many Dungeon Masters point out in their various
letters to The Forum. It just requires special
skills, both tactical and imaginative, to DM such
super-powered beings.

Articles like the current series by Katharine
Kerr as well as just plain common sense about
campaign building and planning will, I think,
greatly aid any DM who takes on the responsibil-
ity of playing with higher level characters.

I wish, however, to offer up my own advice.
First of all, when you play with super-high level
characters, such things as charts and tables, dice
rolling, and other picky little numerals must be
de-emphasized, and the character (what he/she
likes, loves, hates, wants, is repulsed by, is in-
spired by) must be emphasized with much greater
detail.

When characters of 10th-25th level open up
themselves and look back on what they have done
throughout their past careers as dungeoneers, I
find that most players are distraught at what they
find ? there is no human being in the humans,
no heart in any of them, and they have advanced
this far and this well and they have yet to have
any personality beyond simple character quirks
and oversimplified, unoriginal stereotypes.

With the advent of the character as a  character,
with a real personality and set goals (other than
killing everything in sight, hoarding magic and
treasure, and surviving, of course), the DM has
his or her work cut out. After setting down pre-
liminarily what their world will be like (hmmm,
let?s see, sea port here, major fortress there, these
people live off of trade coming down the river . .
.) and after determining some of the major NPCs
to be found there, then it is the time and the place
for the World to blossom, change, mature, and to
become infinitely better than the outlines origi-
nally set down for it.

The characters, being realistically ?human?
and having personalities, will, with their travels,
do more for creating your campaign world than
any DM could ever hope to do ? and oh, will it
be worth it!

Sam Chupp
Conyers, Ga.
(Dragon #88)

*    *    *    *

David Godwin's letter in issue #87 points out
several problems with upper level campaigns --
outrageously high levels, attacking deities, and
automatic hits. There are, indeed, alternatives to
trashing characters or switching to other game
systems. These include:

Levels: In addition to avoiding Monty Haul
type adventures, a good DM can slow down
unduly rapid advancement by not allowing full
XP for overly easy activities. My 12th level monk
(a level gained after 6 years of playing) rarely gets
XP for kobolds, goblins, centipedes, etc. Since
it?s too easy, the DM just tosses such things in
when random rolls insist on it. By allowing fewer
XP for easily obtained gold, the characters can
also have slowed advancement. Using reduced
XP for easy conquests and rare XP-producing
encounters, players can play for years between
levels. And a creative DM can make the game
interesting without raising PC levels each game.

Attacks: As to Mr. Godwin?s comments about
automatic hits, I?d like to point out that a roll of 1
is always a miss/failure (DMG p. 79).
<The N.B. on page 79 only refers to saving throws.>

Deities: I keep hearing about groups attacking
deities, and am constantly amazed by DMs who
allow this activity to happen. The DEITIES &
DEMIGODS book lists several ways in which
any mortal party (and even 17th level characters
are mortal) can be stopped. Awe and Horror (p. 7)
would stop the party long enough for the deity
to use  command  (with no saving throw),  quest
(also without a saving throw), or geas  to send
them away; or  gate  to bring in reinforcements; or
teleport  to leave. Of course,  true seeing would
allow the deity to see any attackers. All of these
abilities are standard for all deities (p. 8) <(MANUAL OF THE PLANES, Appendix IV> and seem to be enough to handle any attacks without
calling for use of a deity's specific abilities.

As I stated earlier, I play a 12th level monk in a
campaign in which the PCs are all 10th through
12th level. An interesting thing has happened.
Once a character reaches 10th level, he/she
becomes less fun to play. The fun is getting a
character through danger safely. Once the charac-
ter can take on a dragon single-handed, it?s best
retired. My monk teaches new monks at his own
monastery and comes out only when an excep-
tionally strong foe presents himself. Otherwise I
now play mostly lower level characters (hench-
men of Rykor?s) and love every minute.

If you want an invulnerable character, fine.
But I don?t feel 17th level deity-killers to be
where the AD&D game is at.

Bob Kindel
Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio
(Dragon #89)
 

In issue #87, I was  stunned  (as per the MU
spell) by David Godwin's letter saying that
Monty Haul campaigns are built into the AD&D
game, and not merely the result of careless DMs
or overbearing players. Admittedly, the examples
he gave (possibly characters in his campaign from
the sound of it) are formidable, but a good DM
could probably deal with them with a variety of
solutions.

However, such ?solutions? would only be
temporary. There does come a point (I believe
Mr. Godwin has reached it already) when it
simply is time for the players to give up their
characters and start anew. Of course, the cam-
paign does not need to be scrapped, and whatever
the DM has concocted can and should be kept.
Also, there are ways of letting a character down
gently (mentioned in the rules, I might add). The
most simple answer is for them to settle down and
establish a stronghold, guild, or whatever and
simply sit back and let the money roll in. Another
solution, generally reserved for the ?creme de la
creme,? is godhood. This not only adds original-
ity to the campaign, but also is less of a blow to
the players. Who wouldn?t like to have his char-
acter worshiped?

Another misconception I would like to clear up
is that of the gods. Deities are not meant to be
just more beasties for bored players. When
players are ?going through pantheons,? and
?beefing up the deities? is considered a solution
to mega-powerful characters, I?d say that the DM
does not understand the purpose of the gods.
Deities are merely meant to be worshiped and
called on for help in extreme situations (also,
deities often help flesh out a character, particu-
larly clerics). It should be kept in mind that even
the loss of one deity could seriously unbalance the
game.

Edgar W. Francis IV
North Truro, Mass.
(Dragon #89)

*    *    *    *

OUT ON A LIMB

Monty Haul I

Dear TSR Periodicals Staff:
The Fell Pass by Karl Merris is an excellent
dungeon. The idea of a dungeon appearing in The
Dragon regularly appeals to me. Hopefully, a dungeon
the size of The Fell Pass can appear at least
three or four times annually. Small dungeons,
which are a couple of pages and one level, should
be a regular feature each issue. These mini dungeons
could be submitted by anyone.

The comic features, Wormy and Finieous, are
one of the best in your magazine. I would like to see
more fantasy stories appearing in The Dragon. I am
principally an AD&D player and would want the
whole magazine to be D&D oriented, but I can
understand that you must include other games.
The Fantasysmith’s Notebook is a very informative
and well done article.

I’d like to see a column appearing regularly that
deals with some of the nebulous areas in AD&D.

People claiming they have characters with +10
swords, -10 armor, and 100 levels are common to
my knowledge. Many people I know, but don’t
game with, don’t distort the game that much. They,
however, have a tendency to work and play the
game to their advantage too often. I don’t think the
total amount of players in D&D take it too seriously.

At our school a D&D club has been founded
and many opportunities to meet new players and
game have resulted. I hope the game continues to
grow and get better.

Andrew Kaspryk
—Park Ridge, IL
(The Dragon #36)
 
 

Monty Haul II

Dear Editor,
I’ve created a monster! No, not that kind; what I
mean is this: A few months ago I DM’d for one of
my friends, and he rose to 3rd level while in my
campaign.

Last week I met him again and I was appalled!
His Magic-User had risen to 11th level, made a
citadel (with a laser turret on top) with a maze of
dungeons under it (including a garage for his starship
and three shuttle craft). Also included in this
“Monty Haul” package was a complete room of
magics, including a rod of rulership, beaker of
many potions, and he has even changed the rules
as much as to, say, a magic-user, after reaching
11th level, can use a sword and carry his tome
around like a scroll!

I am not worried about him, I’m worried about
the people he is teaching! He has taught about 15
people at a private boarding school. He is perverting
D&D, and I can’t get it through his head! What
can I do before the name of D&D runs putrid in the
Ojai Valley?

Dwaine Wright
—Ojai, CA
(The Dragon #36)
 

Monty Haul III

Dear Editor,
One thing (that bothers me) is the number of
Monty Haul dungeons there are in the U.S. I’m not
knocking a Monty Haul dungeon as a training aid
for beginning players. But once a player has gained
experience in using the rules, they should be introduced
to the cold, hard facts. Their characters
developed in the Monty Haul dungeon should be
left there and new characters developed.

Example of what I’m trying to say: A wise DM
used a Monty Haul dungeon to introduce us to the
system of play. Therefore, we were never discouraged
by too little treasure or experience points.
But after a few months of playing he terminated his
Monty Haul dungeon and introduced us to the
World of Greyhawk.

All of a sudden, we could see where our characters
developed in the Monty Haul dungeon were
unrealistic. In the Monty Haul dungeon, we were
going up at least one or two experience levels for
each level of the dungeon. In a matter of only about
a hundred hours of playing time, I had developed a
very powerful <Warlock (MU8)>. Of course, I left
him there!

Since then, I have played over 600 hours of
D&D and I have yet to get a character over 5th
level. I have a couple of <Heroes (F4s)> developed,
but nothing approaching an 8th-level
Wizard.

Of course, each DM is the God of his fantasy
world and can do as he wishes, but my group
prefers to fight a little harder to get promoted than is
obviously required in a Monty Haul dungeon.
Imagine what types of fantasy worlds there are that
let a 100th-level Fighter develop! And in less than a
year’s playing time!

Ben W. Lane
—Fresno, Calif
(The Dragon #36)
 

The Monty Haul dungeon and DM can be a
serious problem in D&D and AD&D, when the
people who enjoy that style of play encounter
others who do not. It all depends on your frame of
reference.

Does anyone out there remember when 5,000
points on a pinball machine was a great score?
Nowdays, if you don’t score half a million, you’re
wasting your money. The game itself hasn’t
changed that much—the goal (winning games or
free balls) is still the same—it's just that the manufacturers
have tacked a couple of zeros onto
everything. Those bigger scores sound more
impressive.

You can look at D&D and AD&D in much the
same manner. As long as the balance of the game
remains constant, it shouldn’t make any difference,
play-wise, if you’re 1st level or 10th level or 100th
level. The problem that arises, though, is that generally
higher level characters are not met with correspondingly
higher level difficulties, and the game
falls apart.

D&D and AD&D, as presented within the rule
books, is generally geared for “lower-level”
characters—say, between 1st level and 20th. The
monsters and creatures are geared towards these
level characters, the treasures (except when piled
up in ridiculous amounts) are geared towards these
levels, the experience point system is geared towards
these levels, and so forth. This is not to say
that one cannot expand the game to higher levels,
if that is the choice. But, played according to the
way the rules are set up, that should actually never
be necessary. Indeed, following the rules, it
shouldn’t even be possible, except in extremely
long-lived campaigns. But, if a DM decides to arbitrarily
start all his players at 15th level (an altera-
tion of the game, in my mind, akin to dealing out all
the properties in Monopoly, and giving everyone a
couple of hotels to boot, before the game even
starts), he must be prepared to have correspondingly
high-level situations for them to encounter. If
he can, fine. And if he continues to present a challenging
campaign to the players, great. But if he
lacks the imagination and ingenuity to continue
what he has started, he is doing both the players
and the game an unfair disservice.

—Jake
(The Dragon #36)
 
 

*    *    *    *    *

‘Fun of the game’

Dear Editor:
While looking through my back issues of
Dragon, I noticed two types of letters recurring
frequently regarding giveaway campaigns
and age disparity in players.

I am running campaigns on both extremes
of the Monty Haul syndrome. Normally, I am
very strict on the allotment of experience
points; my players go up rather slowly, but
when they attain higher levels, they can play
competently because they have worked their
way there. I find that players who are granted
undeserved levels are seldom able to play
their characters efficiently. They don’t know
how to use their abilities because they’ve never
really had to. The players in my campaigns
have more fun and they know their characters
thoroughly. The personalities of the characters
are alive, rather than brushed over in the
search for more and more powerful artifacts.
If their character suffers damage, the player
can almost feel it. The reactions are more
realistic, because the players are thoroughly
into the roles they are playing. And roleplaying
IS what it’s all about. Isn’t it? 

On the other hand, I have one campaign
where the characters have been deified. This
started when my players asked if I could come
up with something akin to the D&D game, but
unique. Since I don’t have that much imagination,
I borrowed from mythology. I decided
that the gods on my world (I have a pantheon
of fifty-two gods and goddesses and three
primal forces) were involved in a struggle for
power. In this political jockeying, the leader of
the gods had fallen under the charm of a
former enemy, and the forces of evil were
gaining the upper hand. My players were told
only that there was a struggle brewing in
which evil seemed to be winning, and that it
involved the gods. Of everything else, they
were ignorant. To make a long story short,
they finally figured out what was going on and
who was causing it and arranged for the
charm to be broken. In gratitude, they were
deified. Running this campaign (which is definitely
no longer a D&D game) is quite a stimulant
to my imagination, for these characters
can move about rapidly and take the average
dungeon in less than an hour. Still this doesn’t
prove to be too great a problem. Such godlike
characters are still quite able to be opposed,
for instance, on a planet inhabited by
Bewitched-style witches.

Since both types of campaigns are enjoyed
by the players, I don’t feel that level is necessarily
a good measure of a campaign. Instead,
try stories. I have a cleric who has painstakingly
worked up to 7th level. I expect it to be
quite a while before I rise another one; this
DM is even stricter than I am. But I’ll bet I
could take any giveaway character, of 30th
level or more, and tell more tales of glory and
fun than he could even dream of. So, all you
people with hard-worked average-level characters,
the next time someone mentions his
27th level thief/fighter/magic-user, offer to
swap stories; I’ll bet he can’t compete.

On the subject of players’ ages, it has been
my experience that age has little to do with
playing skill or with maturity. I am running a
dungeon composed of high-school freshmen,
one with nothing but college graduate
students, and one whose players range from
fourteen to forty-seven. There seems to be
little difference in the way characters are
handled; indeed, in the last case, the fourteenyear-
old is the most imaginative of the players.
By the time the other players are beginning
to comprehend that there might be a
trap, he’s already figured a way out of it. Also,
he’s running a female assassin with courtesan
as a secondary skill, competently.

In the final analysis, I suppose the only factor
that really matters is playability. If a partrench
ticular combination of factors works for you,
then use it. But please, if you are running a
thief/fighter/magic-user/cleric/monk whose
lowest level is above 20 and who runs around
with a ring of unlimited self-resurrection molecurlary
melded to his finger, don’t call it a
D&D game! (For want of a better name, my
giveaway campaign is referred to as Gods and
Galaxies.) Whatever you are playing, it has
passed beyond the D&D realm and has become
something entirely different. Don’t fall
into the trap of doing as an acquaintance of
mine does and take your godlike character
into one of your low-level dungeons just to
show him off. (The man referred to, by the
way, is the one who has the self-resurrecter I
described. He got the ring in one of his own
dungeons.) If you do, don’t be surprised when
your players drop out and go to someone who
offers not prizes, but challenges.

The <FUN> of the game is in the stimulation of
the <IMAGINATION>.

Bobby Kennedy
Lyons, Kan
(Dragon #48)