1st Edition AD&D Part II- My character, Relendor Silkenweb

Relendor and his familiar, the black cat, Soot

 

My Character

In the previous installment, I shared the origin of what I still call THE CAMPAIGN. That post covered the broad scope of the game—the 40,000-foot view, so to speak. Before I dive into the rest of the adventuring party, I want to focus on one of the only surviving artifacts from that era: my character sheet.

You’ll find a scan of it below. But before we get to that, a bit of context.

From what I can piece together, this isn’t the original sheet. The first page—the one with the main stats—was typed by Jeff, not me. The second page, which lists equipment and magic items, is definitely mine. I typed it up on my old Atari 800XL, typos and all. I recognize the format and the misspellings immediately.

The version I have is from later in the campaign. Some items had been gained, others lost. But it still brings back a flood of memories, and it’s the most tangible link I have to that incredible game.

 

First Glance at the Character Sheet

Looking at the first page of the character sheet, a few things jump out.

First—why does my character have such low Charisma? Trying to tell me something, Jeff? Ha!
More seriously, you’ll notice the Strength stat and a note about exceptional strength. That’s because I had a magical studded bracer of ogre power—functionally the same as gauntlets—but it only applied to the arm I was wearing it on. Why? Who knows. It never really caused problems in play, especially since my character fought with an unusual weapon for a dark elf: a spetum.

You’ll also see a note about ambidexterity, and under “Abilities,” the line: “You have all of the male drow abilities and penalties.” That said, I don’t recall ever fighting in the classic two-weapon drow style—not once. Why? Because I specialized in the spetum, and by the end of the campaign, I believe I was double-specialized.

Yeah, that was a house rule. But like I mentioned in Part I, we were walking our own path. I think I went through a number of magical spetums during the game, mostly because several of us were failing item saving throws at one point or another. Despite all that magic and specialization, I wasn’t the party’s top fighter—that title probably went to the half-ogre.

Fun aside: I’d just gotten a new set of smoke-colored translucent dice in the mail before we started this campaign. That d20 rolled 19s constantly. I must have used up all my luck in 1987, because now it barely rolls double digits.

The Equipment Sheet (and the Cat I didn't Ask for)

The equipment sheet was typed by me—misspellings, formatting quirks, and all. It is what it is.

Because Identify is so under-powered in 1st Edition—and due to the nature of Jeff’s campaign—we often had no idea what magic items actually did. We’d pick something up, mess around with it, and eventually figure it out... or not

Looking over the list now, it’s nothing earth-shattering. As I mentioned back in Part I, we’d just come off a short high-level campaign, so this time around we were intentionally going lower-powered. The magical bracer of ogre power was the first real item my character acquired. Oddly enough, it survived every item saving throw all the way to the end of the campaign.

One item I distinctly remember but didn’t list was the cloak of the bat. In hindsight, a cloak of the arachnid might’ve made more sense thematically, but the bat cloak served me well—until it was obliterated in a failed fireball saving throw. I still remember the collective sigh of relief from the rest of the party; apparently I’d been a little too enthusiastic about using it.

Then there’s the book of summoning “homucumuls.” Yes, I butchered the spelling. And no, I never actually used it. I think I kept it tucked away in my pouch of holding, waiting for the day my familiar bit the dust. Summoning a homunculus would’ve been cool, and it fit the tone of the character... it just never happened.

Broom? Book of Black Poetry? No idea on those...

The Familiar That Shouldn't Have Been

Here’s where things get weird. I’m not a cat person. I’ve always preferred dogs—still do. So imagine my frustration when I cast Find Familiar and, through random rolls, ended up with... a cat. Of course.

But then something unexpected happened.

Jeff’s family cat, Cogswell, started curling up on my lap every Saturday night during our sessions. He wasn’t a clingy cat otherwise, and I have no idea why he chose me—but there he was, week after week, purring away while I played. That was the only cat I ever genuinely liked.

Strangely, he never seemed interested in anyone else’s lap—or even in leaving mine. Every Saturday, it was like clockwork.

(Quick side note: despite not liking cats, I don’t like seeing them harmed either. My wife calls me “Diego the Animal Rescuer” because injured or stray animals just... find me. More than once we’ve had them show up at our house out of the blue.)

Anyway, somehow my familiar survived the entire campaign. Maybe it was dumb luck. Or maybe the real-life cat curled up on my lap had something to do with it. I’ll never know.

I also suspect Cogswell loved our gaming rituals. We’d usually chip in for pizza, and Mike (the older guy in our group) would drive out and get it. The empty pizza box often got left behind in the basement, and by the next Saturday, we’d find the cat munching on leftover crust—or whatever had hardened to the consistency of a brick.

Relendor Silkenweb, Miniatures and the Shield of Arion

One detail that still stands out from that campaign was Jeff’s use of his extensive Citadel Miniatures collection. He painted them himself—and did a great job by the standards of the time. Dave may have painted his too, though I wasn’t into miniature painting yet back then.

Looking back, the miniatures had a surprising influence on how we envisioned our characters. Mine was one of the 3rd Edition Foot Cavalry—a model named Toruviel Longstride. That mini, painted with dark blue skin and jet-black features to match the drow aesthetic, became the visual foundation for my character. Even the shield he carried would later factor into his personal goals and backstory.

And so there he was—one of my all-time favorite fighter/magic-users: Relendor Silkenweb.

A Name From the Vault

 I remember leafing through D3: Vault of the Drow in search of a name, and on page 14 I found “Captain Relonor.” Somehow that evolved into “Relendor,” and it stuck.

Relendor had one other distinction: he was the only PC in the campaign who never died. Every other party member was slain at least once, but somehow, he dodged that fate. I do recall one close call—he was dropped to -9 HP in a dungeon and stabilized immediately, purely by luck, thanks to a nearby party member. Probably because of Cogswell...

The Shield of Arion

Relendor’s full backstory is lost to time, but I remember the broad strokes. He had been sent by the Church of Arion (no Lolth in this setting) to recover the Shield of Arion, which had been stolen by a villain named Dragotha. Same name as the iconic undead dragon from D&D lore, but in this campaign, Dragotha was not a dracolich—just a powerful antagonist who ended up tying into all our characters’ backstories. He served as the thread that bound the party together.

I only ever read my own backstory, and sadly I no longer have it. Hopefully Jeff still has those character write-ups tucked away in his gaming archives somewhere.

That’s all for now. Next time, I’ll chronicle the rest of the adventuring party and the players behind them.

Previously, I said there were seven of us—but there may have been eight. I think Jim might have been playing with us at the time, and I seem to recall him running a dwarf fighter. I’ll have to see if I can jog the memory.

Until next time.

1st Edition AD&D Part I- A walk to remember

 

Not exactly accurate, but accurate enough.

Introduction

No, not the book or the movie of the same name—this is the first part of a long-ago campaign from the halcyon days of my youth. It still stands as one of the best gaming experiences I’ve ever had.

Let me get the sentimental stuff out of the way first. Over the years, I’ve been lucky enough to play in some great games, but two stand out as truly exceptional. And in both, I wasn’t the DM—I was a player, running a dark elf character. Now, before you roll your eyes and picture a dual-wielding drow ranger, hear me out. The first of these characters wasn’t anything like that, and the campaign predated 2nd Edition by a few years.

I started gaming in 1982, making me what I call a “late 1st Edition” player—a hybrid player, really. I played with a few local groups before joining up with the crew that would eventually become my high school gaming circle. That’s where I met Dave and Jeff. Looking back, it might’ve seemed like an odd friendship, especially through the lens of high school stereotypes. We were an eclectic bunch: we all played sports (I played football), we were in advanced classes (well, the others more than me—I was a late bloomer), and we didn’t exactly fit into a single crowd.

Even so, I gravitated more toward those guys than the kids I played football with. My wife—who went to a different high school—once called me a “closet nerd,” and she wasn’t wrong. Turns out that choice was a good one. Dave, Jeff, and I became lifelong friends.

A Seat at the Table

I remember the moment clearly. It was the fall of 1987 when I approached them at lunch and started talking AD&D. It was a deliberate move—I knew they were better players than I was, and I wanted to learn from them and game with them. We’d all been in the same school system since kindergarten, and while I wasn’t close with them until then, they’d been friends for years. Not long after that conversation, I was invited to join a Saturday night game at Jeff’s house.

Don’t judge us—we were freshmen. All the girls in our grade were dating older guys who had cars, while we were still zipping around on BMX bikes. I pedaled over to Jeff’s place, headed down into the basement, and that’s where the magic started.

Before that, we’d played in a short-lived high-level game run by an older player named Mike. We were going up against a lich, and while it was fun, it was more of a one-off that only lasted a few sessions. Jeff also ran a proto-campaign as a kind of warm-up, but it didn’t go far. He was already planning something bigger.

We all agreed to the concept and began developing characters. It wasn’t the only memorable campaign I’d ever play in—but it was, and still is, one of the very best.

Part I – The Game

Jeff did a lot of DMing back then, and even early on, his creativity stood out. One of the most unique aspects of this campaign was that we didn’t know our characters’ exact ability scores or hit points. Instead, Jeff used a descriptive range system inspired by the Monster Manual’s intelligence listings. So instead of a number, we might see “Good” or “Exceptional” written on the character sheet. We could make educated guesses, but we were never fully sure.

We used seven stats, with Comeliness renamed to Appearance. Hit points were similarly obscured, which added a level of uncertainty that made the game feel more dangerous. And almost all of our backstories were written by Jeff. We gave him a name and a class—or classes—and he filled in the rest. That decision added depth and cohesion from the start. The group wasn’t just a bunch of strangers who “met in a tavern.” We had shared history, and it made everything feel more real.

After that, the campaign was a sandbox. We had the freedom to go where we wanted, but there were character arcs, interwoven goals, and shared consequences. No railroads—just story.

Jeff’s rules were flexible. My character, for instance, was a multi-classed fighter but still got to specialize in weapons. He pulled material from Dragon Magazine, particularly the issues in the #110–130 range. I still use a lot of content from those today. In fact, my sheet includes a notation for Fighting Styles from Dragon #127, so I know exactly what was being used.

He also ran a few adventures pulled from Dungeon Magazine (issues #1–81), which I’ve since collected. I’ll cover some of those in later posts—they were excellent, and Jeff’s picks were always solid.

What really made the game sing, though, was the energy. We were excited to play and had the time to do it. Every Saturday night for nearly two years, we gathered for that campaign. I remember racing home after football games in the fall, barely taking time to change out of my uniform before hopping on my bike and heading to Jeff’s basement. That’s how much fun we were having.

Rules-wise, we were using 1st Edition AD&D with elements of Unearthed Arcana. That’s what gave me the idea to play a dark elf, though the main reason was just to try something different. In previous groups, I often played fighter/magic-users—or sometimes even triple-classed as a fighter/cleric/magic-user, especially in the L series.

What’s Next

In Part II, I’ll go into more detail about the players and their characters—names where I remember them, motivations where I can piece them together. I didn’t take many notes back then (not like I do now), but Jeff’s digging through his old stuff, and we’ll see what surfaces.

There were seven of us in that group, and we were a force to be reckoned with.

This post is mostly from memory, and all I really have to go on is that—and one worn old character sheet. But it’s a good place to start.

Until next time.