#DnD Character concept: Rogen Thunderkeg

• di. 9 apr. 2019 08:00:00
• Meuk

So. I play Dungeons and Dragons with a group of friends. Every now and then I get all hyped by a character idea/concept/name/whatever. I decided to just write a short story about some of them in the hopes that some day I may actually play them. I write these in English, mainly because most of the Dungeons and Dragons related stuff we do is in English.

"Quick, Rogen!", the commander cried almost panicked as he points to a large beast running away in the distance, "get that fucking Orc messenger"!

A burly dwarf steps forward. Four barrels visible from behind his back. Two pointing to each side of his broad shoulders. He looks at the Orc on the riverbank, running away from them.

"I think he's long gone, searge", he says, while he strikes a match, lighting his cigar. "I mean, he's way off and we do have a very strong western wind".

The guns on his back are of increasing size, a long and slender gun on top, a heavy and broad beast of a barrel at the bottom. Sticking the cigar in his mouth he takes the top gun from his back. It's almost as long as his own dwarfish figure. After looking at it and clicking open some form of lock he takes a tripod from his side, unfolds it, takes a puff from his cigar and places the gun on top.

"Quickly, he's getting away!"

"The thing is. In these parts you can have strong updrafts, long-range downdrafts". The seargent looks annoyed while the dwarf rotates some dials on his gun. He looks at the gun carefully through the large monocle that sits before his left eye. The softest clicking emerges from three copper dials. Click, click, click.

The dwarf takes a small puff from his cigar and looks at the commander.

"Did you know that during springtime, such as now, one has to account for flying insects causing just the tiniest slowing of the projectile?", he takes another puff, looks at his cigar and places it gently on the ground. He kneels on his right knee and looks through a small tube on top of the weapon.

He looks back at the general, who is pacing up and down annoyed by now, a small bead of sweat emerging from above his eyebrow. "Do I have to explain what happens if he makes it back to their camp"! Rogen slowly moves his head from the rifle to the captain, while saying: "Also, I think he has full plate armour". "JUST SHOOT THE FUCKER ALREADY"! Rogen chortles, looks back at his rifle ever so slowly and takes a small breath.

Boom, the rifle rises a few fingers from the ground. Rogen clicks the scope back down and brushes a small patch off cigar ash from his rifle. He stands up, and starts folding the tripod.

"See, the thing with accounting for wind changes. It's experience as much as it is science", Rogen explains calmly.
"WHAT?!", the commander shouts, "he's still walking"!
"Wait for it", the dwarf mumbles while carefully placing the cigar back in his mouth.

In the distance the large beast doubles over, trips and falls down.

The captain sighs in deep, deep, relief. While he is wiping some sweat from his brow Rogen is counting: "1 powderkeg, 2 powderkeg, 3 powderkeg, 4 powderkeg, 5 powde"... "AAAAAH"! Some others in the regiment shiver slightly as the cry from the Orc can be heard, carried far over the water.