In this section of the site, our team of experts will attempt to relay the history of the fabled Ekaj. The following paragraphs are from a report written by a first-hand witness. They have been paraphrased to protect the innocent from any possible Ekaj Barbarian rages. They are still written in the first person to maintain the original document's integrity. Please note that this document is of highly historical significance.

At Dragon Con 2001, we had the distinct pleasure of playing the RPGA module “Winds of Blood.” It is a module about 6 monk schools, each sending 1 champion to save the world. The 6 schools are all based on the six ability scores. The school of the dragon (Str) the school of the bear (Con), etc... Each pre-generated PC we were given was a 12th level monk (3rd Edition) who had like a 22 in his school’s primary stat. I’m thinking, how cool is this!

Well, we sit down and wait for our DM and introduce ourselves. Each player is really cool and mature. Everyone looks like they are gonna’ perform really well, and I give my friend sitting next to me a big thumbs up. Then our DM shows up. He is a big and tall guy, about 6ft 6 in. and kinda flabby. I say this because it was showing. He wore a pair of ratty khaki shorts, some sandals (the “flip-flop” kind) a muscle shirt and a camouflage baseball cap. He carried an enormous bag of Animal crackers and a HUUUGE plastic mug with a lid. He had red hair and a big, bushy red beard. He also walked with a bit of a slouch and lope. No problem, he should do character acting very well. He did NOT carry a battle-mat, the first DM I had seen at Dragon Con without one (maybe a good thing?).

He sits down and says (in a very strong southern accent – Dragon Con is in Atlanta, Georgia), “Hai yaw durin.” (How are you all doing?) Contrary to popular belief, not all people in Georgia are hicks, nor do all of us speak with strong accents. So far, I’m still thinking, “he could be good.”

He goes on to explain that he isn’t too familiar with the module or with 3rd edition in general, but to bear with him. Uh... he IS running an official RPGA event. I think, “Do they let just anyone run these?” The answer is a resounding YES. He also explains that he is dyslexic, and that he will have to read slowly. Right... Well, 5 agonizing minutes later he is finished with the introduction, having read things like, “do not read the next part to the players…” or “the players do not know about this…” We are trying to be patient. He does tell us that “the forces of evil are sure to try and stop the s...s...sta...stall...stallwort...stalwart heroes, and will send their dark minions.” We will see more of that later.

The first part of the adventure centers around riddles, and we solve them the best we can. Our Dm just sits looking smug and makes occasional jabs at our intelligence (!) We finish the riddles and get some nifty items for them, like a monk’s belt, a wand of stoneskin, a +4 frost Kama, and other things.

We next get to a bridge guarded by a fire elemental. We are all monks with no weapons (except my friend who has a +4 kama), and he doesn’t want to parley. So when he attacks, we attack back. My guy rocks in combat (he is the Dex man) and I have over 80 hp, so I figure, I’ll take a jab at him and see how many d6’s of fire damage I take to see if it is worth it. Our DM looks down his nose at me, chewing on animal crackers, his bushy beard going up and down with each chomp, and says very calmly, “Remooove an orrrmm.” (Remove an arm).

~insert sound of a record coming to a scratching halt~

“What?”
“Remooove an orrmm!” (Remove an arm)
I look at the other players, they look around... is he serious!?
I say, “ok...why?”
Our DM says, “Yur thuh MORON that deecided ta puunch a moltin beeyin! (You are the moron that decided to punch a molten being)
“Ok. How much...damage is that?”
Our DM is clearly rattled by that profound question. “Uh...tayen” (Uh...ten)
I say, “Damn, guys, don’t let that elemental hit you in the head!” There are a few chuckles in disbelief.

Well, I now have a 1 armed monk. I look at my friend and ask him for his Kama (I want REVENGE). He hands over the kama without hesitation, and I beat the ever living snot out of the elemental.

Next, we are walking up a mountain path, and our DM tells us that we see some dark figures hiding behind some rocks. I look over at the Charisma monk’s player (who, by the way, is doing an outstanding job role-playing a bardic type monk, complete with haikus!). I look over to him and say, “hey man, maybe this is your time to shine. They haven’t attacked us, and the Elders told us that everyone will have their test.” I wiggle my stump. “I had mine! Get up there and try to parley.” We all laugh and he decides to go up and talk to these guys.

Our DM looks at him, chin up. He very beautifully says (in an Eastern accent) that we are here to save humanity, yadda yadda. I can’t possibly do his speech justice. Our DM simply rolls a BUNCH of dice, and tells him. “Yew tahyeek aytee fouwer poeents uh daymage.” (You take 84 points of damage). We all pretty much go “WHAT?!”

“Yur thuh MORON that deecided ta tawk teu DORK MIINYUNS!” (you are the moron that decided to talk to Dark Minions)

We stare at each other in disbelief, and ask what they look like. He tells us that they are “Dork Miinyuns” (Dark minions). We roll initiative, and his monk moves back to our group. Then the Dark Minions go. They charge, THEN each makes 5 (!) attacks with dual-wielded swords coated in a slimy substance. Our DM asks for “fourtitewd” (fortitude) saves all around. Everyone looks worried. I say, “Don’t worry guys, we are all 12th level monks. We have Diamond body, and are immune to all poisons, magical or otherwise.” Our DM (we still don’t know his name) looks furious and says, “Wur yew not towld dat Dork Miinyuns wood be sayent tew try an stawp yeeeww, an thayet they wood hayuv powurs as grait as or more powerfuuul as yorse?!” (Were you not told that Dark Minions would be sent to try and stop you, and that they would have powers as great as or more powerful as yours?) We sighed the sigh of cheesed players, and continued.

Well, the monks are getting their rears beat down by 15th level barbarian/ranger guys with unstoppable poison, and it is everything we can do to keep the stoneskins up. Then we get blasted by a lightning bolt, and our evasion “Don’t wurk” (Doesn’t work). We are getting pissed, and I say that I’m charging the mage 80 ft away. I do so and attempt to flurry on her (blatant rule break). Our DM actually catches this and says I can’t. I look sheepish and say I just thought it was ok, ‘cause the barbarians did it. He says nothing. So I use my monk belt and Haste myself as a free action, then charge and flurry on the mage. DEAD.

The rest of the adventure was pretty bad, and at the end, someone had to sacrifice himself to get the item. We all unanimously volunteered (anything to get this over with).

We insisted on voting, and asked him his name. He just thrust his arm out, showing us the top of his wrist. It said, “Jake.” MAN, what a hoot. We later talked about Jake, pondering what MORON (heh) tattoos his own name on his wrist. We said that maybe he forgets his name, and one of us said, “If he’s dyslexic, wouldn’t his name be Ekaj?”

Thus the legend of Ekaj was born.

The History of Ekaj  |  Ekaj in the Wild!  |   Various Ekaj Pictures  |   Stories About Ekaj  |   Back to Main

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