Using Specialists (SNS)

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: "You fool!" shouted Cardax as Martia battled her way through the throng of undead soldiers on her steady path toward the necromancer's throne of bone. It seemed like she'd been slashing her way toward her goal for hours. Gangrenous ichor covered her blade and the magical armor she had found in her grandfather's secret armory.
: With its help, the dead could not touch her directly, although they were definitely hampering her progress toward their unholy master. Martia gritted her teeth and steeled herself as she fought yet another wave of rapidly rotting warriors.
: "How do you think you can stand against me, girl?" the man shrilled, as the madness of his many years shone in his eyes. He cackled as he leapt to his feet and stood atop the seat of his blackened throne, the bones of which looked like they has once served as the fuel in some horrible and arcane ritual.
: "Your grandfather was a fool, Martia. I loved him like a brother, and we both loved your grandmother. And yet he betrayed her memory. He let her die, and he did nothing to bring her back!" The man was actually foaming at the mouth now, and it was all Martia could do to prevent his insane patter from distracting her from the job at hand.
: The Blade of Honesty hummed angrily as it swept through the undead horde. Light glowed along the edge of its blade and gleamed through the long-dead blood that slid along its edges. The blade was fulfilling the purpose for which it had been forged and reforged once again. The light of its truth banished the dark lie that animated these bodies: they were not truly alive.
: Martia saw the necromancer teetering on the edge of his throne and made a last-ditch push toward the dais upon which it stood. "I've learned about the prophecy of your end, Cardax. I've come to fulfill its conditions and halt your reign of terror."
: As the young warrior battled her way nearer and nearer, Cardax's pale eyes grew wide. "So you say, whelp. But if you've read the prophecy, then you ﻿know that I can only be undone by one of my own." He gestured widely to the unliving men that carried out his will. "As you can see, none of mine are in the position to do anything to harm me."
: His wild cackle caught in his throat as he saw the undaunted fire raging in Martia's eyes. "Foul man, you are in for quite a surprise if that's what you think."
: With a final sweep of her sword and a desperate leap, Martia made the dais's outer edge. Standing directly beneath the man who had killed everyone in her family but her, Martia spat out the last words he would ever hear.
: "For I am one of yours, evil beast. When you lay with my grandmother, she gave birth to my father, who was unknowingly yours. And as sure as I am his daughter, I am one of your own!"
: With that, she thrust the Blade of Honesty deep into the ancient man's chest, impaling his long-dead heart upon its razor-sharp shaft. The tip of the blade stood out from Cardax's back as he slid down the length of steel and into Martia's waiting arms.
: "And so I kill you," Martia whispered, her final word to him leaping off her tongue like a curse he would carry with him into whatever afterlife would accept such a twisted creature, "Grandfather."
: * * *
: As Martia staggered out of the keep, the sun's first rays poked through the trees and fell upon her upturned face. The long night of Cardax's reign was finally over.
: Now Martia could return to the capitol and lay claim to her family's throne. There would be pretenders who would seek to steal the birthright that she had fought so hard to reclaim, but she would persevere.
: As she trod toward her hidden steed, she reflected on the fact that so many people had helped her in her quest. They would probably help her again. With that thought, Martia finally smiled.﻿
Specialists can play an intriguing part in any campaign. The preceding chapters detailed a number of NPC classes that are sure to breathe life into any fantasy world.
However, keeping track of every player character's various contacts can become quite tedious. Besides all the work involved with NPC generation, a DM must also figure out how the supporting cast moves up in levels with respect to the hero. While a 1st- level scribe may be useful to a 1st-level fighter, that same fighter at 7th level is going to want to turn to a scribe of a higher level, despite any previous relationship he may have had with that scribe.
The system detailed in this chapter allows Dungeon Masters to place responsibility for NPCs in the hands of their players. It also includes some guidelines by which DMs can determine how quickly specialists rise in level without having to keep track of every experience point.