theworldofdreams.com

If you've read the WOD History you probably think you know the story of the Ophidian war and the slaying of the Ophidian Queen. Well, that story is all true, but there was just a tiny bit more to it (from my point of view, at least).
Just before the war broke out, Dundee was messing around with the laws of the universe. Unable to leave well enough alone for we change-fearing Wodians, he was tinkering with looting (either creating or improving the "yoink"). He must have been anxious to try out his new toy.
Of course, Dundee and Shade were not present when we entered the lair of the Ophidians, but Irish and Spring were (wink, wink). The Wodian Expeditionary Force was a highly disciplined military machine, so the attackers immediately fanned out to their assigned roles, each performing the task for which he was trained and best suited. I was killed instantly.
Chaos reigned for a while, and I either waited patiently to be resurrected or ran back to town (this early Ophidian Lair was located in the caves just North of Britain). Whichever was the case, I returned to life and dodged among the snakefolk until I located my poor lifeless form crumpled in a corner of the cave. I rushed forward and knelt by the corpse, a tear in my eye that such a handsome fellow had met with so untimely a fate. Still... I looted me. Nothing. My "stuff" was gone. Now, I had not had any respectable "stuff" until recently, but I was already quite fond of it. The armor was Ingot Head made with ore I had dug myself. The bow and arrows I had crafted myself from scratch. I had other cool "stuff" as well: magic reagents (my magic training had been coming along nicely)! real bandages! My precious tools. All gone.
The ophidians could not have gotten it all! Perhaps one of my fellow warriors had taken it. But where? How could I find them (no tracking skill then)? How could I get to them? The war had moved elsewhere and the enemy was everywhere.
Several frustrating and fearful minutes later, I found the little army of WoD engaged with the serpentine enemy.
"Where the %$#*? is my stuff!?!," I queried politely.
Irish explained that he was guarding my possessions for me after rescuing them from the Ophidians.
"What were you thinking, you @#$!*&!?!" I said, hoping Irish would not be embarrassed by the sentimental effusion of my gratitude.
"Sorry for any inconvenience," said Irish and he handed me a bag.
Oh well, all's well that ends...
empty.
Empty?
Empty!
The bag was empty.
"This is a very nice bag," I told Irish, "a very nice bag indeed. However, if it is all the same to you, I would prefer to have my 'stuff'."
And so, with the horrors and fury of the Ophidian War raging around us, Irish rummaged around in his bag for my misplaced possessions.
Suddenly, Irish chuckled. Had he adequate dexterity, I'm sure he would have slapped himself on the forehead.
"I know what it is! It's just a little bug. Dundee thought he'd fixed it but I guess not."
Irish noticed I was not chuckling.
"I'm sure he'll fix it tomorrow," reassured Irish.
"My stuff?," I squeeked.
"Dundee's insurance will probably cover it," he said cheerfully. "File the paperwork by the end of the week."
The Army had gone too long without its general. Irish shrugged and hurried back to the front, leaving me standing alone in my death robe.
There I was, the greatest hero in the land (well, anyway, thats what I thought) there in the middle of the most famous and glorious war WoD had ever seen or would ever see, without armor, weapons, or even bandages or reagents. Spring sympathetically handed me bow and some arrows and then rejoined the battle herself.
And what a glorious battle it was! Lord Irish magnificently deadly in his righteous rage- Lady Spring rattling the very fabric of the universe with her wizardry- the mighty blacksmith muscles of Ingot Head pounding unmercifully- while Sy's blade was a blur of deadly speed and the other citizens of the young land lending unbounded courage to the cause. Before them, the Ophidians fell like a ripe crop before the harvest.
And Homer. Homer creeping out of hiding in the shadows to flip wooden sticks at the reptiles, having no more effect than spitwads splatting against the side of a city bus, then scurrying back into his hidy hole.
Then there was one. Of the mighty Ophidian empire, only the invincible queen remained. Yet she brought the raging Wodian onslaught to a standstill. Irish's rage washed ineffectively against the Queen like a frothy wave against an unmoving rocky shore. The powerful blows of Ingot Head bounced off hollowly and harmlessly. Sy's whirling blade accomplished little but the creation of a cooling breeze. The mass of brave citizens were reduced to little more than cheerleaders. For a time, it appeared that Lady Spring's magic would be just as ineffective against the Snake Queen. Then, among the handful of pitifully dainty energy vortexes (vortexi?) sent against the Queen, one produced a tiny trickle of royal Ophidian blood. The Wodians were quick to see the tiny keyhole of opportunity and began to pick at it. They poured healing and buffs at the mutant vortex and the tactic worked- the vortex drained the Queen's life away. Yet that was not all that was drained, and one by one the Wodian magic users announced their magic energy exhausted until the spells ceased flying while the evil Queen clung to life by a thread and the vortex began to fade.
I was standing there watching all of this, my mouth hanging wide open like a tourist bass making his first visit to the big city of the fish. I had long since given up donating used arrows to the Queen's favorite charity. I had become so accustomed by that time to being a helpless bystander, that when Spring handed me her bag of reagents I didn't understand what she expected of me. Then I got it and started pouring my untapped mana into healing the vortex. With the start given by the others, the Queen finished dying quickly.
Ironically, the very same incident that took me out of the early stages of the war dropped me right in the middle of the big climax. Of course, Dundee claimed that he had planned things that way from the start. What nonsense. Well, wasn't it?

Gah, Homer, you make me laugh like that when I had just lit my cigar? (cough-cough)

I particularly liked the "spitballs at the city bus" reference, having been there myself more than few times(haven't we all?). If you have been on more than one or two Quests, that feeling gets to be very familiar. Not comforting--not by a long shot. But familiar...

Thanks Homer--may your memory banks never drain of the tales of WoD past!

What a wonderful story Thank you Homer