Tag Archives: writing

The Legend of Vox Machina (2022) – Revisited

The second set of episodes have just been released for The Legend of Vox Machina; I would like to take this time to revise my initial review. I was correct in assuming that it was too early to tell whether or not this show was any good, but I was right in saying that it was heading in the right direction. With this new set of episodes, the writers show important moments of character growth, and I for one am here for it!

This show is casual fantasy. It has enough fantasy elements to satisfy any hardcore fantasy enthusiast, but it doesn’t isolate those who just want something else to watch. As of now, you do not need to know and follow different tribes or houses. You do not need to keep track of different races or their languages. You do need to know who the main characters are and track the subtle nuances of their character development: their backstory, goals, and how they change over the adventure. This show does a great job at creating these moments of character growth without making members of Vox Machina overpowered and boring.

The strongest aspect of this show is its main cast. Vox Machina is crude, imperfect, and they struggle a lot. This struggle is important this early because it is in their failures and what they learn from them that the story happens. Despite Vox Machina’s poor reputation, the show does a great job establishing that they are still above average. There are moments in the show where an enemy easily overpowers guards or heroes, yet somehow Vox Machina holds its own. This helps establish Vox Machina as heroes without making them overpowered. They still struggle to win against these enemies, but just barely. They still have much to learn, which is perfect because it means more story for us!

I still believe that some knowledge of the Critical Role and D&D would help with the experience, although it isn’t necessary. There are a few inside jokes only accessible to fans of the show, and I as a fan enjoyed them thoroughly.

Lastly, this show also does a great job at translating tabletop to animated series. I like the way they handle skill checks and magic., but I can see it going over people’s heads. It helps to understand why a spell doesn’t go off or why a scene ends the way it does.

The Party That Saved Christmas – Part 3

Snow drifts down slowly. Endless white canvas in every direction. Small banks of snow and a few mountains break its monotony. Peace falls against this lifeless tundra. Peace and silence. A bright flass at the center leaves the party at the center of it all. A cold air brushes up against the party, creating involuntary shivers.

The party is awestruck by the sudden change in scenery. Hox drops to his knees and starts handling the snow. His tail wags excitedly. “I never seen so much!” His ears twitch as the snow crunches between his fingers.

Euphemia giggles as she packs a snowball to throw at Hox. It explodes against his hood. He shakes it off, but a bit lingers at the end of his snout. “So cold” he exclaims”

The faintest giggle escapes Belyis’ lips. Hearing this, Euphemia smiles and throws a snowball at the Tiefling. “Heads up Bel!”

Belyis lets out a squeal as her reflexes kick in and her hands move to catch the projectile. The snowball explodes in her hands. She begins to blush from the attention.

Aus is busy searching the horizon. “Focus,” he says as his gaze fixes into the distance. “We have a job to do.”

“Lighten up” Euphemia replies as she packs another snowball “We’re just having a bit of fun. It’s not every day we get to see snow”

“That’s fine. You’ve had your fun, but we need to focus now. Mr. Duke said that Santa’s villiage is due north,” Aus says as he raises his hand and points straight ahead “North is that way.”

“How do you know that?” Euphemia asks as she walks over and looks in the direction he is pointing.

“It’s a weird thing I can do. I can also tell you what time it is”

“Nah” replies Euphemia as she plops to the ground and begins to put on her shoes. “North is fine”

The party moves across the snow. Their boots land with a crunch as Aus takes the lead. Peaceful tranquility falls with the steady snowfall.

Twenty minutes pass. Aus searches for enemies. Euphemia hums quietly to herself. Hox sticks his tongue out as he attempts to catch falling snowflakes. Belyis treks behind the party. Her head is down, but her eyes scan the tundra for enemies.

A loud rumbling nearby stops the party. Weapons are drawn as they each search for its source. The rumbling stops. An even more menacing silence follows suit. Hands clench nervously at hilts and staves. A small bead of sweat starts to form on Euphemia’s brow.

The ground before Belyis explodes. Large chunks of snow fly through the air as the small bits of aftermath begin to settle. A large, almost invisible creature rises from the snow. Ten feet tall and almost just as wide, with fur as white as the snow that falls around it. There are places where the fur is matted and tangled. Other spots are bald, exposing scars from battles past. Its massive hands are hairless, with long black claws at the tip of each finger. On its head, there are two twisting grey horns. Wide nostrils sniff angrily at the air. It roars. Chunks of frozen saliva flies from its mouth. Its ice blues yes are full of blood thirst as it studies the party. It is a yeti.

The yeti’s claws come down on Belyis, ripping into her shoulder. Hot blood runs down her arm. Belyis’ expression changes as her meekness is replaced with anger. The second claw comes down with the same ferocity, but this time Belyis has time to react. Her hands blur through the air, blocking the beast’s attack. Her muscles are tense as she holds back the beast. The yeti grows angry.

Belyis pushes the hand to the side and ducks under the frustrated yeti’s desperate retaliation. She moves in close with her fist clenched tightly. A soft glow comes off her hands as she swings with all her might. The punch digs into the beast’s stomach. The yeti stumbles back as the air gets knocked out of his lunges. It takes a moment for it to regain its balance. It takes a step towards the Tiefling before a soft yellow glow glosses over the beast’s eyes. It stops advancing as his eyes go white. It remains paralyzed, its gaze lost in the distance.

Euphemia begins to charge at the Yeti, rapier in hand. Her stride is broken by another explosion of snow. A small, young yeti lunges at her back. Euphemia doesn’t get a chance to react as the creature’s fangs sink her shoulder. Strong hairy arms wrap around her. The young yeti stands at a similar height.

The pain from the bite is new to her. She screams in agony as a stream of blood falls down her back.

Hox, hearing her yell, grips his staff tightly. His eyes begin to glow purple as he waves his staff above his head. His raspy voice shouts “jennu ir! tluog ve dout vers. nomenoi souls re douta”

Above him, a glowing purple light begins to form. The snow around him glows as it reflects the purple light. He raises his free hand and points at the young yeti. “Loreat!” he shouts as the purple orb of eldritch energy flies towards the young beast. It crashes against its back. The Creature releases his bite and turns to the Kobold who begins reciting his next spell. Frozen foam and blood spill from the corners of the young yeti’s mouth.

Four more identical baby yetis jump from below. They make their way towards the Kobold whose eyes remain fixed on the yeti attacking Euphemia.

Euphemia free from the jaws of her attacker turns. Her free hand moves to cover her fresh wound. Blood pours from the lane of small holes that wrap around her shoulder. “By the light of the stars and the guidance of the moon, cure these wounds and grant me strength”. The wound begins to seal under her touch.

Hox begins to cast another spell. Before he can tap into any of his magic, he finds himself surrounded. Four young yeti circle the kobold. They snarl and growl as they lunge at him. Hox raises his staff in an attempt to fend off his assailants, but the claws rip into his scales. Drops of his blood and shreds of his cloak fall onto the snow around him. The Kobold lets out agonizing yells as he pushes against one of his attackers, keeping him away. An arrow sinks into its head. The body grows heavy against Hox’s staff. With a slight push, the yeti falls lifeless to the ground.

Aus has taken to the air. His wings flap confidently against the frigid air. They almost vanish against the white backdrop. He notches another arrow and takes aim. The arrow whistles through the air as it strikes another yeti. Its last helpless yelp escapes his lungs as it falls to the ground.

One of the young yeti turns to run. Hox tries to strike the fleeing beast but the remaining yeti blocks his line of sight. The yeti stares at Hox. Its eyes are full of bloodthirst. Hox readies grips his staff tightly as the yeti lunges at him. Fangs and claws dig into the Kobold as he tries to push the yeti away.

Belyis stares down the large beast before her. The yeti is dazed; its white eyes lost in the void. Belyis moves in close and unleashes a flurry of punches. The muffled thuds echo over the snow. The faint sound of bones slowly breaking follow suit. The beast coughs up blood as rage begins to gloss over its eyes.

It stares down at the Tiefling. Belyis readies herself as she hops against the snow. Hot steam rises from the yetis flaring nostrils. It roars as red frozen foam falls to the ground. The air around Belyis grows colder. Ice begins to gather against her coat and hair. The cold cuts through her skin. She stands there, frozen in place. Its black claws dig into Belyis’ coat, tearing at the fabric. Blow after blow comes down on the defenseless Tiefling. The yeti’s fur turns red with her blood. Belyis falls to the ground. The yeti stands over her lifeless body, its eyes searches for its next victim.

Euphemia’s yeti rushes towards the kobold. She swipes at it with her rapier, but she misses. She drops the sword to the ground. She pulls a small pan flute to her lips and begins to play a sweet melody. The young yeti stops in its tracks. Its eyes are no longer bloodshot. Its mouth no longer foaming. It sits on the ground and it stares onto the snow, peacefully.

Hox looks around and smiles. “feed sia thurirl. nomenoi souls re douta ekess clax!” Behind him, a spark of light flashes. A portal begins to grow. Dark purple lightning spews in every direction as the portal begins grows behind him. A loud wailing spills from the other side. Hox stands proudly as he holds his staff tightly. The portal grows to about 10 feet. Lightning continues to fly from its edges as purple energy swirls around, obscuring the landscape. From it, two large tentacles reach for the young yetis. One tries to run, but it is too slow. The tentacles wrap tightly around the creature. It struggles in vain as it is pulled into the portal. The portal vanishes. Hox stands alone in the middle of the blood-stained snow. His smile is unwavering and his tail waves behind him.

The large yeti finds his target in Hox. He begins to charge at the Kobold. Each step shakes the frozen landscape. The kobold braces himself. His knees shake as his grip on his staff tightens.

On the other side, Belyis lays in the snow motionless. The pool of blood continues to grow around her. The front of her coat is completely torn off. Deep gashes run down her chest as her breathing slows. A teary-eyed Euphemia runs towards her. Her little feet struggle to move her through the snow. “Don’t die.”

The yeti continues its charge. Large chunks of snow fly behind it. It closes in on Hox. Seeing the large creature up close, Hox takes an involuntary step back. An arrow rains from the sky and digs into the yeti’s back. The impact breaks the yeti’s stride. In this moment of confusion, Hox finds his words. A blast of purple eldritch energy strikes at the yeti’s face. It stumbles back as it tries to recover from the shock. A second arrow whistles through the cold air. This one digs into the creature’s skull. The yet stumbles about as the last bit of life bleeds from its wounds. It falls over lifeless.

Hox and Aus stare at the creature for a moment. When it doesn’t move they rush over to Belyis. Euphemia falls to her knees beside the dying Tiefling. Tears fall down her cheeks. She places her hands on Belyis’ chest “Please wake up!”

The Party that Saved Christmas – Part 2

Mr. Duke laughs loudly. This sudden outburst catches the party off guard. He quickly gathers his suitcase and addresses the party “Splendid! We don’t have time to waste. Follow me. I’ll explain more on the way.”

The party follows Mr. Duke into the busy corridor. Phones ring over frantic voices. People seem to run up and down the hall in a hurry. People don’t take notice of the party as they walk by, most busy with their own tasks.

“As you can see, things here are a bit hectic. We have been asking other nations for aid in the matter, but most leaders are more concerned with the safety within their own borders. I don’t blame them. It’s not a threat most take seriously, that is why you have to be enough. This is a very big ask, but you are the only hope we have” He continues to walk as the party walks behind him quickly.

“What happens if we don’t stop this threat? Why is the north pole so important”

Mr. Duke stops and turns to the party. He has a serious look on his face. “There are magical items, artifacts, secrets hidden from the rest of the world for our protection. If they were to get in the wrong hands, it would mean the end of modern civilization. Wars would break out. Millions will die. Empires will burn and from their ashes, evil and chaos will bloom. I hope I don’t have to keep convincing you on the importance of your mission”

Mr. Duke pauses and assesses the party’s reaction. Euphemia scribbles away as quick as her little hand can carry the pen. Hox and Aus look onto him with a mixture of interest and concern. Belyis has raised her hood and stares at the ground nervously.

“There is a bigger plan in motion here but we haven’t been able to figure this out” Mr. Duke continues “All I know…all we know is that you need to save Christmas. Am I being clear?”

“Yes,” the party responds. Hox’s tail twitches behind him. Aus scratches behind his head nervously.

“Good” Mr. Duke continues as he turns and resumes his pace. ” You will be teleported about an hour out of the south of Santa’s Village. That’s the closest we can get. You will be given clothes for the weather and a few items that might help you with the journey. You are going in blind. We can show you the layout of the village but unfortunately, we don’t know who is leading this attack or how they are defending the city”

They stop inside a small elevator. Mr. Duke presses a code into the keypad and the elevator begins its descent. He turns to the party with a serious look on his face. “There is something out there blocking out communications and our mages haven’t been able to scry. You will be alone out there”

“This is getting harder and harder to get motivated for” Aus replies

“It isn’t an ideal situation. You will need to find whatever is jamming our magic and report to us. But your priority is saving Santa”

An awkward silence fills the elevator. The party looks at each other, but no words are exchanged. The elevator comes to a stop after a moment of silence. The doors open revealing a large open space filled with metal tables, shelves, and racks full of different tools and weapons. People move franticly, working diligently making weapons or mixing chemicals. Mr. Duke walks out of the elevator at a hurried pace. The party follows suit, fascinated by the myriad of items scattered throughout the room. There are oddly shaped swords that hang lazily on beaten racks. There are staffs with intricate carvings of animals or runes engraved with shinning gemstones. There are bows made from rare woods strung with a material that shines in the room’s dim light. There are tables where the rolled-up scrolls spill over, almost falling to the floor. There are heavy hammers, menacing maces, and dangerous daggers. The small forge at one end of the room blazes away hammer bang against hot steal.

The party passes sections where beakers are full of odd-colored liquids. Burners push hot flame against rounded glass containers, slowly bringing its contents to a boil. A small woman swirls a mixture between her fingers, it changes from red to purple. The smell of sulfur and something bitter fills the air. There are shelves lined with jars full of odd objects. A troll’s hand floats against one while the jar next to it is filled with dried bat wings.

Passed all these tables, at the far side of the room, there is a large magic circle. It’s made of red paint. There are strange symbols that seem to be randomly integrated into their pattern. There are candles that break up the pain, evenly spaced. Mr. Duke stops in front of the circle. “Before you step into the circle, there are a few items I would like to give you.” An elf man walks up to Mr. Duke carrying with him a basket with vials filled with different color liquids.

“We didn’t have much time so you will have to make due. Each of you will get a healing potion. You only get one, use them wisely. This” he says as he pulls up a green potion “is a potion of haste. It will give you a bit more energy but when it wears off you will feel the worst you have ever felt. And this” he says as he pulls out a vial with light blue liquid with silver specks that move slowly through the liquid “is a potion of invisibility. We are not sure about the side-effects. Use at your own discrection. Thank you Calvin.” The elf nods and walks away.

A dirty female dwarf walks up next. She drags behind her a wagon full of different weapons and winter clothes. “We weren’t sure of your measurements but our tailor is pretty good at guessing. This should keep you warm. There are snow shoes to help with the travel. We also took the liberty of crafting a few items to update your arsenal. We have finely crafter armor you can change into” The party starts grabbing the clothes and armor, searching for their sizes.

“For your Aus, we made a bow made from the a very strong wood. Take this quiver of arrows. Each has a magic ability but unfortunately we don’t quite know what they do. You only get 10. And for the rest of you…”

“Let me stop you right there mister” Euphemia interrupts. She taps at the hilt of her bejeweled rapier “This sword has been in my family for generations. If it was good enough for my grandma during the great Silverfoot clan wars, it is good enough for me”

Hox nods as he squeezes his staff. “Yes Hox don’t need new staff. This staff is best staff!”

“Well, I suppose that is fine.” He turns to Belyis who stands behind the party and stares at her feet “And my shy Teifling there only uses her hands to fight from what I understand” Belyis turns red and nods shyly. She says something inaudible. Mr. Duke clasps his hands together. “Well when you are ready, step into the circle. The quicker the better”

The party takes the time to change into warm clothes. Each with a thick cloak with a hood lined with fur. They wear heavy black boots and thick padded pants. They make their way to the center of the circle. They are silent as they get to the center.

“Thank you. This is a lot I am asking you. Be safe, strike true, come back come alive” Mr. Duke presses his hands on the ground. The circle begins to glow until it is a solid white glowing circle. The party begins to sink down into the light. Slowly until the last one disappears into the light. The light fades. People have stopped working and stare at the empty circle. “May the gods protect you”

The Party That Saved Christmas – Part 1

It is snowing in the town of Drecshire. It creates a thin layer over freshly shoveled paths. The Conroy Taffy company building sits at the center of this busy town. Today, however, the streets are empty except for the few people who must run out to finish some errands. It is Christmas eve and the town is quiet, except of course for Conroy Taffy Company.

Inside the Conroy Taffy building, people through the halls. The phones are ringing none stop and everything is abuzz with the cacophony of frantic conversations.

On the top floor, inside a small windowless conference room sleeps a young white-feathered Aarakocra. His chair leans against the wall. His bow sits to his left and a small quiver lies to his right. He snores softly as his wings twitch occasionally but they remain snuggling his body. His worn leather armor looks dull against his plumage.

The room has bare walls except for a small black clock on the north side of the room. It ticks away quietly. Aside from the clock, there is a small rounded wooden table with the seven remaining chairs arranged neatly around it.

A small hooded figure walks into the room. A small crimsoned scaled hand carries a simple staff that reaches above the creature’s head. A red pierced tale follows suit. The Aarakocra jolts from his sleep, grabbing at his bow. The hooded figure raises his hands out in defense. “Sorry sorry, I mean no threat,” Says the hooded figure as he removes the cloak revealing a Kobold.” My name is Hox. I am here for mission. You give mission?” The Aarakrocra is stunned by the Kobold’s presence.

The Kobold is a bright crimson color. His eyes are a bright yellow. His ears are pierced and they twitch nervously as they wait for the Aarakocra to answer. On his face, odd symbols run down his cheeks almost like tears. Hox’s chest rises and falls quickly.

The Aarakocra relaxes. He puts his bow on the ground and retakes his seat. “Sorry, bud. It’s a reflex. They call me Aus. I’m here for the quest too”

“Do you know what quest is?” Hox asks, also relaxing as he takes his seat next to Aus.

Aus shakes his head as he closes his eyes and leans back against the wall. His yellow beak shines under the lights. “Not a clue”

Hox calms as he walks towards Aus. “This is strange no? We no have no information”

Aus nods “yeah but” he is cut off midsentence as the door opens once again. The two turn to the small figure at the door. A brown-skinned halfling walks in. Her raven black hair comes to just past her shoulders. She wears clothes made with the finest fabrics. Her ears are pierced with diamond earrings. A small gold necklace hangs from her neck with a tiny pendant at the end. Gold bangles hang from her arms and they jingle as they walk. She walks in with the grandeur and elegance of a noble. On her right, a rapier with a jewel-encrusted hilt bounces against her hip. On her left, nestled in her belt is a small pan flute.

She looks at the two characters who watch her curiously before saying “Good, I am not the smallest one here. My name is Euphemia Hogscallar. It is a pleasure!” She smiles as she makes her way to the two. They shake hands and introduce themselves.

“Do you have quest for us?” Hox asks. His nostrils catch a whiff of her sweet perfume. His tail wags slowly. His mouth begins to water.

“Me?” Euphemia asks curiously “I am here for the quest. I don’t know anything else. I was only told a time and place.”

“That’s odd” Aus adds. Looking at the clock on the wall. “Well I guess we keep waiting”

Not much later, the door opens one more time. This time a purple Tiefling walks in with a bewildered and startled look on her face. She has slightly darker purple ram horns that wrap around on either side of her head. She has a few piercings. Four on each ear. A small stud on the bridge of her nose. Four 4 studs go across her forehead. Her eyes are pitch black. She quickly averts her gaze away from the party.

She wears simple cotton clothes. Her shirt is sleeveless. Tribal tattoos run down both her shoulders into cloth wrappings that go from her knuckles to almost her elbow. Her shoes are worn, thin, and dirty. The number four is tattooed on the right side of her neck. “I’m” she begins softly, barely audible. “I’m he-here for the um quest.” Her voice shakes. Her eyes stare at her shoes. She rubs her right forearm nervously.

Euphemia walks up to the Tiefling. “Well, you are in the right place!” Euphemia’s voice is booming in comparison. She reaches up and grabs the Tiefling’s hand. Her hand is much smaller as it wraps around two of the fingers. She pulls the Tiefling deeper into the conference room. The Tiefling follows reluctantly.

“Well this is Aus and Hox and I,” she says letting go of the hand and turning to the Tiefling “am Euphemia. It is a pleasure to meet you! What’s your name?”

The Tiefling glows red. She averts her gaze and stares at the floor. “My…um..my name is Bel…Belyis. Nice to meet you.” Her voice is a whisper, almost inaudible.

“You’re a shy one aren’t you. Can’t say I’ve ever met a shy Tiefling before” Euphemia replies.

“Well aren’t we a strange collection of heroes. A kobold, an Aarakroca, a halfing and Tiefling. Sounds like there might be a joke in there somewhere. I can’t say I want to find out the punchline.” says Aus as he scratches his head, examining his partners.

“Trust me, as someone who tells jokes for a living. If this is a joke, it’s probably a really good one!” Euphemia says as she turns to Aus.

Before anyone could answer, the door opens. A man with dark glasses and a neatly ironed grey suit walks in. His brown skin is covered in old faded scars. He carries with him a suitcase. He pulls out a gold plane pocket watch from his pocket and checks the time. He sets down the briefcase and opens it.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice. I am sure you have a lot of questions, please save them till the end. I have a lot to go over and we don’t have a lot of time. Please take a seat” The party arranges themselves around the strange man.

“You can call me Mr. Duke. I am what you might call a middle man. I contract people with special skills, such as yourselves, to fix problems and clean up messes. You have been hand-selected because you have a particular set of skills that will prove useful to us.” He pulls out a stack of folders from the briefcase. Folders thick with documents and pictures. He throws them on the table between the party. On the front of the folders is a sticker with a phoenix and the words “The Ministry for Magical Defense”

“At 0600 we received an emergency transmission from the North Pole.” Mr. Duke pulls out a crystal ball from the case and sets it gently on the table in front of the party. He taps it twice. A dim light shines around where his finger taps the glass. The ball begins to fill with thick purple smoke.

When the ball is full, an image of a bloodied dirty halfling appears. “My name is Finmin Goldwood. My team and I were sent here on a rescue mission. Santa is in trouble. Our transport was shot down at the edge of Santa’s Village. We…” Loud banging from away stops him mid-sentence. “My team is dead. The toys are alive. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s as if..”

More banging stops him mid-sentence. There is the sound of wood cracking slightly. “We tried to make our way through the city, but it’s overrun with living toys. They hunted us down” The banging gets more violent. “There might still be people held up in the workshop. Whatever this is, whoever unleashed this evil must be stopped.” More banging. The sound of wood breaking is clear. “If you get this, I am already dead. Please hurry. Save Santa.” The ball goes black and the smoke fades to nothing.

“Communications have gone dark since. Your mission is to infiltrate Santa’s village and figure out what the hell is going on. Now, this isn’t going to be easy. You are going in blind and alone. If anything goes wrong, you are on your own.”

“Um,” Aus asks as he raises his hand “what exactly are we doing?”

“It’s a rescue mission. You are there to save Santa”

The party looks at each other in confusion.

Seeing the confusion on everyone’s faces, Mr. Duke adds “Yes. Santa is rea. Set whatever you beliefs aside and focus. This is your mission. Everything you need to know… Everything we know is in those folders.” He leans up against the table and looks at the party. “So what do you say? Will you help us?”

Hox grins as his tale wages wildly behind him. “Think of all new things out there. I’ll help. Hox will help!”

Euphemia and Aus flip through the documents. Studying them carefully. Euphemia is the first to speak. “Can I have the book rights to this little venture?”

“You’ll have to change a few things and submit it for approval but as long as you don’t mention me or the Ministry of Magical Defense, there shouldn’t be an issue.” Mr. Duke replies.

Aus puts down the stacks of papers. “I don’t like this. What is the Ministry of Magical Defense? Why don’t we have more back up?”

“The Ministry of Magical Defense is a secret organization that was created to deal with world-ending threats” Mr. Duke explains.

“You’re sending us to deal with a world-ending threat?” Aus asks.

“Yes”

Aus leans back on his chair and takes a deep breath. “You’re asking for a lot. We just met you. You expect us to just drop everything and go on some suicide mission?”

Mr. Duke clears his throat. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in. I wish we had more time. I wish we could ease you in better. I wish we could send a bigger team but this is the best we can do with the time we have. It’s not going to be easy, but it needs to be done. If you want to leave, there’s the door. Just know this. This isn’t just some isolated incident. If those toys finish their business, they will spread to the rest of the world. We need to get a handle on this before it gets out of control. We did the math, you guys are the best shot we have at nipping this in the bud”

Aus’s Talons scratch at the floor. He shakes his head. “I don’t like it.” He goes silent as he thumbs through the pages “If there’s no other way. I guess you can count me in.”

“There isn’t” Mr. Duke replies. He turns to Belyis who is watching from her corner of the table. “That just leaves you”

The party turns to her too. Belyis who had returned to her natural purple color turns red again. She averts her eyes. “Um,” she says, her voice a squeak. “I don’t know. I don’t um…”

Euphemia walks up to Belyis. She looks up at her with a sweet smile. “What do you say Bel? Do you want to be part of the team?”

Belyis’s face burns with embarrassment. “Sure,” says her whisper.

Euphemia claps and giggles with glee. “Yay! We’re going to be such good friends!” She wraps her arms as much around Belyis as she can and squeezes her. Belyis’s face is frozen with fear and confusion. Her face glows red from the embarrassment.

“A strange Kobold, a loud Halfling, a shy Tiefling, and an Aarakroca walk into Santa’s Village. You’re right. This is a pretty good joke”

Mad Mage Chronicles:Chapter 8

This story is based on the wizards of the coast adventure The Dungeon of the mad mage. There are spoilers

Source

The cave becomes familiar to the party. The dank smell of rot and decay fades away into familiarity, almost like a memory. The cracks on the wall, the deep scrapes from combats past, and the decomposing bodies that litter the ground slowly begin to morph into the landmarks of their adventure. The party continues to move in silence, but this time it feels different. It is a comfortable silence that is shared amongst comrades. The trust might not yet be there, but its threads begin to weave between each member with each step.

Roakala takes the lead with her cursed sword which emits a soft light that washes over the ancient stone. It creates soft shadows against the walls of the caverns, this time they are less menacing. This time they stroll with a more relaxed ease as they finally make it to the forest of pillars. The party stands at a familiar crosswords. To the north, a path already travelled. To the south, a clear warning of certain death. To the East, an unknown variable. The party stands in contemplation.

“Where to now princess?” Roakala asks, unable to resist the smirk that appears on her face.

Diljaris’ tail twitches in playful frustration as she instantly retorts with “I am not a princess!” She doesn’t sound annoyed. There is a certain friendliness in her tone. Diljaris looks around at her options for a moment before continuing “Well if we are looking to make money” she reviews her options one more time “I think the best chance of finding magic items might be due south” she says as she points at her option. Above the door way in freshly painted letters the warning reads “Certain death this way”

“You want us to go towards death?” Gorak chimes in

“Yes, we need money and towards death would more than likely have magic items we can sell”

“You barely made it out of the last bout with monsters, shouldn’t we prepare more before we go running towards our deaths?”

“Well my friend” Diljaris replies as she places her scaled blue hand gently on Gorak’s shounder, giving him a warm and friendly smile, “We can’t know for certain that any of the other paths will yield a less dangerous path. I would argue that we will never be ready for what we don’t know. But I don’t want you to feel pressured, no one is forcing you to go. You can leave when you like. I am here to conquer this dungeon and my gut says that that way” she says as she points south “is the first step in doing so.” She pats him gently on his shoulder and begins to step due south. “Whose with me?”

Roakala is the first to react. Her head swivels between the two members of the group before letting out a frustrated grunt “Dammit! Wait up princess.”. Roakala walks after Diljaris. She drags her feet lazily.

A heavy dwarven hand falls onto Goraks shoulder. The old worn glove smells of fresh oil. “Well boyo?” Drugnar says “You did ask for more adventure.” Drugnar chuckles as he continues after the pair. Gorak stands in place, the room growing dark as the cursed light’s reach no longer engulfs him. He sighs in frustration and begins to take steps towards the party. They pass through the door warning them of certain death.

The doorway empties into a long dark hallway. A hallway that is well travelled. The ground is littered with tracks, both young and old. There are deep overlapping footprints belonging to humanoids of varying sizes. There are animal tracks and long deep wheel imprints. There are bits of ash and burnt out torches. It is clear that despite it being marked for certain death, this path down here is a busy avenue.

The party moves cautiously over the tracks. They look eagerly towards the end of the hall, expecting a dangerous surprise. Perhaps death would be the answer to the strange nature of this corridor. Finally they arrive in a room. There are neat piles of ancient stone, earth, and ruble throughout the room. Around those, digging supplies of varying condition. There is also a small body in the room. It is slumped over against the wall. It’s leathered green skin has begun to rot. There are signs that rats have begun to nibble on it’s body. An ear is missing and the body sits on what is left of a pool of blood that seems to have dried long ago. There is no way of knowing when the body died except that the belly has bloated.

Rakala examines the body carefully.  “Well” she says as she ponders the goblins visage “whatever killed the goblin took anything valuable.” The party searches the room for valuables and clues as to what might be in the next room; but all they find are the discarded tools and deep footprints leading in and out of this room.  There is another exit to this room. One that has been freshly and hastily made. This doesn’t share the workmanship of the caverns they have already travelled. This was made by new hands. Hands that don’t hold the same attention to detail as the original carvers of this earth, but somehow still talented enough to create a new passage way.

Roakala looks into this fresh wound. The cursed light washes over the freshly dug rock. The light reveals the madness of the new architect. It bends and turns with lack of reason, although the function stands up right with the support of new shabbily cut wood. The new path is ugly and it sews distrust in the party. Diljaris steps up and touches the wall. Examines it for a moment.

Gorak comes forth and gets close to the ground, touching one of the deep wheel wells. “Well if there is any treasure, it seems to be moving through here.”

“Agreed” Diljaris replies finally looking away from the stone “Whoever made this is using it to transfer something pretty important.”

Gorak nods “But the question is who’s using this tunnel and what are they carrying?”

“The real question is do we want to deal with whatever made this thing?” Roakala chimes in, pointing at the corpse of the dead goblin.

“I mean” Diljaris answers with her bright warm smile “We did come down here for some adventure”

The Mad Mage Chronicles: Chapter 7

A new party and a task at hand

This story is part of a larger series based on the published adventure The Dungeon of the Mad Mage. There are spoilers.

When the party emerges from the dark and dank underbelly, the yawning portal is alive with music and drunken singing. There is an overwhelming air of celebration that seems to teeter around the room, floating along with the clouds of cigar smoke. They inch through the crowd slowly as the clusters of drunkards make movement difficult. Eventually they find a table, at the center of the cackling crowded chaos. A bar maid makes her way to the tired group who order food and a round of drinks. 

Food and drink arrives that the table. Roakala rests her head between her arms. Diljaris has settled in her area with books and journals neatly surrounding her. Drugnar and Gorak polish their weapons. “So what do we do now princess?” Gorak asks Diljaris who scribbles furiously in her journal. Food and drink comes. The barmaid places six large bowls of rice and curry at the center of the table. Next to the plates of food, she places two large pitcher of ale. Foam spills over the side, creating a small ring around the base of the pitcher. The barmaid leaves 5 full flagons of ale. Drugnar tips the waitress a silver. The barmaid surprised by the generosity winks and says “Let me know if y’all need anything else. Im closing out this place.” She places the coin gingerly in her pocket as she almost skips with joy away from the party.

Diljaris without looking up from her work “I am not a princess”. She continues to scribble until finally she looks up and replies “We need to find work”

“I thought you had work?” Gorak replies

“No, I was looking for a party to find work with. Now that I have a party, we need to find work. I think we should start with the barkeep, he might have some leads”

Drugnar stands up “Shall we?” he says as he motions towards the bar

“Of course” Diljaris responds.

“I’m good” Gorak responds as he takes a long swig from the flagon. Roakala is too busy eating to respond. The two move towards the crowd, pushing their way through the crowd.

The two make it to the bar. Gorak pushes a pair of patrons aside to make room for them. The barkeep moves around them, quickly haning out filled flagons until finally he stops in front of the two. “What are ya havin?”He puts an old dirty towel over his right shoulder. His beard is freshly trimmed. His apron is also clean and neat.

Drugnar clears his throat and starts “First I would like to commend you on running such a fine establishment. I have been to many taverns in my long Drwarven lifetime but this has to be one of the best. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Drugnar Stormhammer and my scaly associate here is Diljaris Eshbis. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now before we waste any more of your precious time, we would like to inquire on any business opportunities you might have or know about for a group of brave and capable adventurers”

The large burly man sighs “If you want work, go ask Obaya. He’s sitting over there. He’s always looking for adventurers. Now are you gunna buy something or not? I’m kind of busy”

“Yes can I get a flagon of your finest ale?” Drugnar asks smiling widely.

The barkeep pulls out a small barrel from under the bar. He fills a clear glass flagon to the rim with a golden clear ale. He places it on the bar as the foam settles. “Anything else?” the barkeep asks with clear dred in his voice.

“No you have been very helpful. We appreciate the information. Thank you” Drugnar replies as he slides a gold coin towards the bar keep. The barkeep is stunned by the sudden act of generosity. “Come back whenever you need anything you hear”

Obaya is a black human male whose permanent resident is at the nicest booth in the yawning portal. Today he is surrounded by a group of laughing nicely dressed individuals. Obaya himself is adorned with the finest silk robes that have been hand stitched to specifically fit his frame. His finely ordained hat hides his wavy locks that shine when they manage to escape and touch the light. His golden brown eyes search the bar as he weaves together the tales that seem to always have his company in an uproar.

As the two walk towards Obaya. Obaya takes notice but doesn’t break from conversation. When they get within earshot, Obaya grin with genuine warmth, greets the pair “You look like you have a question for old Obaya. What can I do for you my friends?”

Drugnar steps forward “Good evening Mr. Obaya, we only want a moment of your time. My name is Drugnar Stormhamer and my beautiful scaly friend here is Diljaris Eshbish. We are travelling with a group of very capable adventurers and we hear you have a bit of work for dungeon delving folk like us”

“Well my well spoken friend, I am a travelling merchant and I deal in the strange and the magical. If you can bring me any magic items or spell books, I’ll take it off your hands for a bit of coin”

“Hi” Diljaris finally speaks up “how much do you pay for each magic item?”

“10 platinum per magic item. More if depending on how rare it is. How’s that sound?”

The two are taken aback by Obaya’s words.  They are clearly dazed by the reply. They remain silent as time continues.  “Well?” Obaya asks again, still smiling patiently.

“Well Mr. Obaya, it looks like you have yourself a deal. We look forward to doing business with such a generous patron” Drugnar finally responds as he extends his hand out towards Obaya.

Obaya laughs loudly and his guests join in. “You flatter me Drugnar but no need to be so formal. I am just a regular guy. Please, just Obaya is fine.” He stands up and extends both hands out “I look forward to working with you too as well.” They shake hands. Obaya smiles warmly. “Oh but you have to promise me one thing.”

“And that is?” Diljaris asks

“Don’t go dying on my account please”

The two laugh “We can assure you, you there won’t be any dying from us, I’ve brought together a very capable group” Diljaris replies. The two turn and make their way back to the table. Guidy with excitement at the possible prospects they were just promised.

Back at the table, Roakala and Groroak eat and drink in silence. Roakala continues to scarf down a bowl of food. One lies empty in front of her. Gorak drinks in silence, lost in thought. When Diljaris and Drognar come back, they don’t notice, but instead seem lost in food and drink.

“Good news!” Diljaris addresses the table, breaking their concentration “our wise Drugnar was able to find us work”

“What’s the job?” Gorak asks, putting down his flagon of ale.

“There’s a man in here that buys magic items, 10 platinum a piece. This dungeon has to be loaded with magical items” Drugnar adds.

“Yeah but how often do you think we’ll be finding magic items?” Gorak asks, sounding a bit skeptical.

“Well we did find a magic sword on our first trip down” Diljaris reminds Gorak.

Yeah don’t forget about Janice” Roakala adds, breaking her silence. She places the magic sword in the table. It glows faintly even under the candle light. The two empty bowls resonate from the impact.

“Isn’t it cursed?” Gorak reminds the group.

Roakala shrugs her shoulders “It still counts as magic”

“Maybe we should sell the sword” Gorak says as his hand slowly moves towards the blade.

Roakala snatches the blade off the table, almost knocking over bowls of food and the half empty pitchers of ale. “Janice is not for sale, she’s going with us!” She says sternly, her posture tenses as she gets ready to pounce at whoever dares reach for her sword.

“No need for any of that” Diljaris chimes in “No one is selling your sword Roakala. Settle down.” She puts her hand gingerly on the Orc’s shoulder. Roakala glares at Diljaris. Her eyes still filled with some rage but her breathing seems to slow and her posture relaxes as she finally slinks back down into her seat. “Fine” is all she says as she grabs a third bowl and continues to eat, this time slowly as she continues to eye Gorak.

A woman’s voice interrupts Gorak as he seems to move to continue to tease the Orc.  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I hear you are looking for work?”

“Yes of course!” Diljaris says as she turns to face the owner of the voice. The woman is a finely dressed in new and clean robes. Around her neck is a golden necklace of a robin diving into a sea made from a blue sapphire. She is a tall and slender woman and her beauty makes it difficult to decern her age. She appears to be in her twenties. Her dirty golden curls seem to be meticulously placed down to her shoulders. She stares back at the party with eyes as blue as the emerald that hangs around her neck.

“My name is Esvele Rosznar of house Roszar and I am looking for my brother Kressado. He went missing a few weeks ago. I have asked countless adventurers for help but I haven’t heard word of his whereabouts”

“What does your brother look like?”

“He is a slender man. He is 22 years old and has dirty blond curls that go to his shoulders. He wears a platinum ring with our family crest” Esyele pulls her necklace towards the group. “It’s also engraved with our family motto. Fly high and swoop swift”

Diljaris scribbles furiously even leaving and quick but recognizable sketch of the Roszar family crest. “Is he an adventurer too?”

“Well?” Esyele begins. Her face turns red as she looks down at the ground “He isn’t an adventurer. He’s been in some trouble. He is a good guy, he is just a little misguided”

“What does that mean?” Gorak says as he places his flagon on the table.

“He got mixed in with the Xanathar Guild and that has gotten him in a bit of trouble. Last I heard he was going down into the dungeon for some job but he never told me details”

“What’s the Xanathar guild?” Gorak continues to interrogate the woman.
 

Esyele doesn’t raise her eyes. She remains silent for a second before slowly letting out “They are the crime syndicate that runs this town. Larceny, murder, prostitution, drugs, all things illegal run through them. My brother was a thief for them” she pauses for a moment as she studies the reactions of the party and ponders he explanation  “My brother is a thief. Unfortunately he is a great thief and has now been unfortunately bound to the service of the Xanathar guild. I’ve tried my hardest to convince him to leave but he is also a stubborn man who likes to live dangerously. He is a good man non the less. He’s disappeared before, but it’s never been for this long. I just want to know if he is ok. Will you help me?” This time she looks up. Her voice cracks and she is clearly fighting back tears.

“How much?” Roakala asks as she leans forward, picking at her teeth.

“Well?” her voice still cracks and a small tear starts to roll down her cheek. “I will be ever so indebted to you and your group. My family is incredibly influential and having me as an ally will be incredibly beneficial”

Before the party has a chance to react, Diljaris moves towards the woman and places her hand on her shoulder. She looks down at the woman with a wide smile. Her tail wags her golden eyes seem to glow with a spark of excitement. “You can count on us. We’ll find your brother”

Mad Mage Chronicles – CH6

The Fight at the End of the Hall

This story is part of a larger series based on the published adventure “Waterdeep: Dungeon of the Mad Mage”. There will be spoilers.

Source

The party continues through dark desolate passages of ancient dirty stone. Black soot and long deep scratches cover these tunnels. They record the history of the dungeon. The party steps over pools of dried blood and broken decomposing bodies. The further them move in, the mustier and warmer it gets. Drips of water can be heard somewhere in the darkness. Roakala leads the party with the dim glow of her new blade guiding her. She eyes for danger with each cautious step she makes. She steps on a piece of discarded bone, it shatters under her wait but she seems to take little notice. Instead, she moves forward until she enters a small room.

Here is where the tunnel ends. A room etched at the end of the hall. A room full of the remains of failed adventurers. Bodies, both whole or in pieces, are scattered in small piles. Those with flesh intact rot away slowly in the darkness. Those who aren’t have long since become bone and are now lost here forever. Roakala pauses for a moment, her eyes trying to make sense of the scene before her but her eyes begin to water from the foul odor that assaults her nostrils. The party moves in carefully, each scanning the room for dangers or valuables. As the party makes its way around the room, carefully trying to stay close to one another, two piles of discarded flesh begin to move. From them sprout large floating flesh creatures with bodies like brains and beaks for mouths. Attached to each are long tentacles that wave wildly below them. They raise with loud deafening screeches.

Source

“What the fuck is that?” Roakala lets out as she moves her sword and shield into position.

“They’re Grell. Watch out for their tenticles, they’re poisones” Diljaris replies.

Before she can say anymore, the Grell is on top of her. Its skin slimy and full of discolored ridgels. It swipes at her with its long heavy tentacles. The force of the impact knocks the breath out of her. The tentacles wrap around her tightly and begin to carry her off. She coughs and gasps as she struggles to breath. The monster pulls her to its mouth and takes a nip at her with its sharp beak. She screams in agony as the beak tears into her flesh, ripping through her robe. Warm blood begins to seep down her shoulder. The monster turns and begins to take her away.

Roakala takes a step to help her the young dragonborn, but her path is blocked by the other Grell whose tentacles flare angrily and its beak snarls violently. Tentacles snap towards the Orc like whips, but Roakala’s instincts kick in as she doges and blocks the incoming flurry. She quickly closes the gap between her and the Grell who now faces her. Its eyeless face turns to her and takes a large nip at her side but instead of the soft Orcish flesh it excepted, its mouth bangs against the cold metal face of her shied. The force of the impact shakes Roakala to her core. It forces her to step back as her arm shakes under the weight of the monster’s attack but she stands strong. Sweat begins to form on her brow as she attempts to create an opening for her blade.

Diljaris begins to regain her breath as the shock from the blow begins to wear off. She begins to catch her breath. The grip on her body tightens as the slimy grey tentacles squeeze at her side. With the little breath she is able to mumble in an ancient tongue. Her eyes begin to glow blue. Her fingers spark with a bright blue flame. Where her burning hands she shimmies to touch the beast. Its skin begins to sizzle under the heat of the magical flame. A sudden burst of blue fire leaps from her hands, singing the creature. It screeches in pain and drops her to the ground. Diljaris lands in a loud and painful thug, once again knocking the breath from her lands. With the little strength she is able to muster, she stands up slowly. She takes wobbled labored steps away from the beast as the smoke and scent of burning flesh surrounds her.

Drugnar watches the dragonborn get swooped up and dragged away, he takes a step before the monster is able to make it far. He watches as the dragon born drops to the ground and struggles to make her escape. He moves as his legs can take him. Each step landing with heavy metaled determination. His right hand reaches for the pendant around his neck. Another gold coin hidden under his armor. This one houses the image of a beautiful woman carefully carved on its face. Drugnar moves himself between the monster and Diljaris and reaches out to touch his wounded ally.

“Sune lend me your light. Protect this creature as your own. Give her the strength to move forward. To continue to see the beauty of this world.”

There is a moment of silence as the two continue to move slowly. Suddenly, the coin in his hand begins to glow softly. The light spills through the cracks between his fingers. His left hand begins to glow warmly over Diljaris’s blue scales. Her steps begin to quicken as she appears to have newfound strength to move her forward. She no longer clutches at ther ribs, but moves quickly to make distance between her and the Grell. “Thanks” she expresses the two move away from the assailant.

An arrow flies by them from the darkness. It wisps by Drugnar’s head and connects with the floating monstrosity. Gorak stands at the other end, loading a second arrow onto his bow. He squints into the darkness, takes a breath and fires. The second arrow whiles through the air, piercing into the cold grey flesh. Drops of blood spray out, splashing against the filthy dungeon floor. A small river of blood starts to make its way down the shaft of the arrow. The Grell begins a hastened retreat. Blood drips bellow it, creating a trail in it’s wake.

On the other side, the second Grell is still locked in combat with Roakala. It snarls and flails against the orcs shield. The Grell makes quick swipes against the orc who has no choice but to move back and look for an opening. The Grell continues to make careless attacks, landing in loud cold slaps against the floor of the dungeon. Roakala dodges them, using the momentum of her movement to quickly close the gap between her and the monster. Before the Grell has a chance to react, Roakala is near the beast. She takes a strong confident swipe at the monster. The blade slices through the skin, leaving behind a deep gushing would and pain. In its desperation, the Grell takes swipe at the orc, but Roakala proves too fast. Instincts kick in and the blade comes down against the assailing tentacle. The blade swipes through easily. It’s soft glow momentarily obscured by the blood that slowly drips down its face. A large half of tentacle drops on the floor besides her. It flails uselessly without it’s body until finally, the last bit of life it held fades away into the darkness surrounding it. The Grell turns to run. It begins to float away in fear leaving itself open to Roakala’s third attack. The blade swipes quickly towards the retreating beast, slicing into unsuspecting flesh. It screeches in undeniable agony as it hastens it’s retreat.

Diljaris now stands more confidently, although her hands still shake. She closes her eyes, takes a long calming breath as she begins to recite the ancient words that fill the pages of her book. Her tail wages in a circle, her hands flail above her head. Her eyes glow blue as flames erupt from her hands. She goes silent as her eyes glare down the retreating monsters. ‘With this flame, I purge you from this world”. The flames launch from her hands, landing and creating a large explosion that engulfs the two Grell. The room fills with blinding light. When the fire fades and the room dim, the two Grell are left blackened and still burning. They float away weakly, their tentacles no longer flailing but instead left singed and curled against their scared bodies.

Drugnar takes advantage of the situation. With holy coin in hand he begins to say “Sune, mistress of beauty, show these beasts your light!” A flash of light chases down the farthest Grell. Instinct kicks in and the Grell moves out of the way. The soft glow of the spell reveals the battered beast and its desperation. It crashes against the wall. Small bits of it crumble to the floor as the Grell passes by, still in its attempt to escape. An arrow whiles into its back. This time instinct fails the creature. The arrow digs itself deep into the Grell’s body. Large spouts of blood poor from it. It falls from the air and squirms as it’s last ounce of life escapes it.

Gorak turns his head to the last remaining Grell who continues to burn and move through the darkness. His eyes squint as he takes careful aim. The arrow finds its place in burnt flesh. Agony and terror echo inside the last desperate squeals of the retreating Grell. In its desperation, it never noticed Roakala closing the distance until her cold glowing blade sunk deep into its flesh. Blood pours out of the wound and washes over Roakala’s hands as she uses all her strength to continue to cut the beast. The Grell grows heavy on her blade as blood as entrails begin to spill from the new wound. She takes the blade out, the blood drips over the runes making them illegable. The Grell drops heavily on the ground, lifeless.

The party stands in silence, still weary of danger, still searching for hostiles.

“Good news guys” Diljaris finally says, breaking the tense silence “You passed the test. Congratulations”

Mad Mage Chronicles – CH5

This is part of a larger series based on the published Wizard of the Coast Adventure “The Dungeon of the Mad Mage” Spoiler warning.

They exit into a dark silent cavern. Water slowly drips in the distance. The light from Goraks torch begins to spill out, filling the darkness, stretching out in every direction . Their footsteps echo off the cavern walls. Roakala takes the lead, her hand at the hilt as she scans through the darkness diligently. Behind her, Diljaris and Drugnar follow side by side. Both eyeing into the darkness, searching for unknown danger. Gorak follows behind the party, torch in hand. It’s flames licking at his face. There is an awkward silence that they carry between them as they make their first decent into the dungeon.

The cavern opens up and they enter a large room filled with long standing pillars. The pillars are scattered randomly throughout the large cavern, there seems to be little rhyme or reason to their placement. The light from the torch flickers over the pillars revealing distorted faces. On closer inspection, they appear to be horned demons of sorts. Diljaris moves her fingers over one of the pillars, feeling at its features. She turns to Drugnar who slowly steps towards her and asks “any ideas what these could be?”

Drugnar brushes his beard with his hand. He appears to be in deep thought. Roakala and Gorak don’t share this fascination of the pillars and move around carefully, searching for anything of value. Drugnar finally breaks the silence “they look like demons of sorts.” His voice is full of confidence.

” I could have told you that, but which one is it?”Diljaris says as she takes her notebook out and begins taking notes.

Drugnar shrugs “Who knows? I am only familiar with the Dwarven gods” Diljaris makes an imprint on a sheet of parchment that she stows away carefully in her bag. “Well let’s press on shall we?” she says, her eyes moving between the pillars.

Still within the large room, between the pillars they stand together. The light of the flame stretching in each direction revealing four exits. The one they came from due east and the rest stairways heading in the remaining cardinal directions. Roakala begins to search the room closely, her face almost kissing the floor as she stops and searches certain spots on the floor. She stops before the southern stairs, above it sprawled in dark red paint are the words “Certain death this way”. She continues her search.

“What is she doing?” Gorak whispers as the party watches the orc move around the room. They shrug before Roakala replies “I am looking for clues on where to go”

Gorak raises an eyebrow “Um, what did you find?”

“It’s hard to say, it all looks humanoid. No monsters” She finally stops and looks towards the group “But I vote we don’t go towards the warning.

“I can get behind that” Durgnar agrees as he pats his belly.

“Alright then orc, where does your investigation say we should go?” Gorak asks mokingly.

Roakala shrugs and shakes her head. “I was’t investigating for a way to go, I was looking for danger”

“Ok we aren’t doing this” Diljaris interupts “where should we go?”

Drugnar begins to dig through his pocket and pulls out a large silver coin. On it’s face the silhouette of a bearded dwarf. On it’s back, a hammer and anvil. “I have an idea” he says as he begins to show his coin to the party. “Why don’t we flip a coin. This has never steered me wrong before”

Gorak doesn’t flinch and seems accepting of the Dwarfs suggestion. The two remaining think for a moment before Diljaris finally says “Leaving the first trial to chance? There is something quite poetic about that. Flip away friend!”

“I haven’t read too much poetry, but I guess it’ll do” Roakala adds.

“It’s settled then. Heads we go north, heads we go west” and with that he flips the coin in the air. They watch as the coin floats up in the air, turning quickly to it’s own rhythm before crashing down on the floor with a soft bounce. The silhouette stares back at the party. “North it is!”

The party nods in agreement and they move north. Roakala leads the way, slinking expertly through the darkness. She listens for the sounds danger but hears none.  Suddenly, they hear the faint sounds of a distant incoherent echoes. They approach more carefully. Hands grip tightly around weapons as the breathing slows. These echoes lead to a small room. The room is empty except for a swords buried into an wooden armor statue of a faceless man. The statue has begun to rot but the sword looks freshly forged. Etched into its steel face are neatly written runes from some unknown language. Tat it’s hilt, boney rotting fingers cling onto it.  “Any ideas what’s up with this?” Roakala says, her hands moving towards the blade’s hilt. The echoes begin again but there doesn’t seem to be a source.

As Roakala’s dirty gloved hands wrap around the hilt of the blade. The skeletal hand drops to the floor and shatters into pieces. Before anyone has time to react, she grabs it tightly and pulls it from its resting place. Diljaris is startled by the sight and rushes carefully towards the orc. “Wait, it could be trapped!’ she says with her voice full of worry.

Roakala shrugs as she swings the blade around. “Feels fine to me”

“Well” Diljaris responds, a look of worry on her face “Give it here and allow me to examine it for a moment.”

Roakala thinks for a moment and reaches to hand over the blade before retreating it back “Can you do it without holding it?”

“It’ll only be for a moment, I will give it right back.” Diljaris says still worried.

“Ok but I’ll hold it” Roakala continues insistingly.

Diljaris rolls her eyes and gives in. “Fine, if you must” Her eyes start to glow a soft white. She hovers her hands over the blade as they begin to glow in the same shade. Her tail wags back and forth slowly as she whispers in droconic.  The runes on the blade glow as they respond to the ritual. This goes on for some time as the party watches in awe of what is occurring before them.

Finally, Diljarus goes silent. The light in her  eyes and hands fade. She looks at the party, clearly at a loss for words. She struggles to speak but finally is able to let out “This isn’t great but it’s not terrible”

“What is it?” Roakala asks, beginning to sound concerned.

“Well” Diljaris begins, struggling to find the right words “It looks like you have a cursed sword in your hands. For as long as you are cursed, you aren’t able to part with it”

“That’s not so bad. This is better than my old one, and she speaks Orcish”

“It speaks?” Diljaris asks looking concerned.

“Yes, Orkish”

“What does it say?”

“Oh she just wants to come along for the adventure. She will even shine a light for us. Good news for you ey human” Roakala adds, turning towards Gorak with a sly smirk.

“If you say so” Gorak answers eying the orc suspiciously “Does it tell you to do stuff”

Roakala shakes her head “Except for asking if she could come along, Janice isn’t really making any demands.

“An Orcish speaking sword named Janice? Not bad for a first adventure is it boyo?” Drugnar says as he nudges Gorak.

Gorak with his eyes still fixed on the dimly glowing sword shrugs “Does Janice need to prove herself too?”

“It’s only fair” Diljaris repplies, giggling.

Mad Mage Chronicles – CH4

Breakfast With a Plan

This story is part of a longer series based on the published adventure “The Dungeon of the Mad Mage”

The bar is silent at sunrise. It is a also a mess with tables flipped to their side, a thick layer of sticky smelly mud coats the floor, and a young tired man lazily sweeps up the bits of broken glass scattered throughout.  A few patrons sleep off the night of drinking, slumped over on the floor or over a table. They snore loudly as the few disgruntled looking employees carefully clean around them. It’s quite a sight to see The Yawning Portal in it’s tranquil state.

Diljaris and Roakala are the first to come down. Diljaris in her usual chipper deadener gleefully galops down the steps while Roakala slinks behind her slowly. Her eyes half closed in her exhaustion. Her feet drag over the wooden boards. They sit at a table and Diljaris orders breakfast as Roakala’s slumps over the table and hides her face in her arms. “Why so early? We are the only people up this early” she says in a tone muffled by her current position.

“Well my dear” Diljaris responds as she begins setting up her workplace “We have a lot of dungeon to uncover and we are really behind.” She begis to neatly place before her books and journals and pens. Each placed neatly in their designated location.

Roakala raises her head slightly, her chin still touching the table. “I’m just here for the money, is there a way I can just join up with you later”

Diljaris smiles “So your intention is to join then?”

“That’s not what I meant” Roakala hides her face in her arms again.

“I need to see how well you do in combat before we can properly talk about you joining my group” Diljaris says as she studies her half conscious partner.

There is no response from Roakala except some heavy breathing.

A few minutes pass before Drungar and Gorak come down. “Good morning! I hope we haven’t been keeping you waiting long” Drugnar says extatically, his voice filling the room.

Diljaris who had been busy writing responds “I wouldn’t make tardiness a regular thing but it’s fine. Please join us eat we will depart after breakfast.” Before her, the table has already been set with a small feast of eggs bacon and toast.

The two men sit down at the table, filling their plates with the assortment of food. Gorak points to Roakala “What’s wrong with her?”

Without lifting her head Roakala lets out a muffled response. “It’s too early” is what the party can make out.

They begin to eat breakfast in silence. Diljaris writes in her journal, taking small nibbles here and there. Eventually Roakala lifts her head and eats from a plate Diljaris set aside for her. “So” Roakala begins, her mouth still full of food “you got a plan princess?’ Bits of egg  spray out from her mouth to the table.

Diljaris looks at the bits of discarded egg with disgust. “I am not a princess!” she responds, sounding a bit annoyed. “Of course I have a plan”

“Are you gunna share it with us or is this a you thing?” Gorak chimes in.

“Oh you meant for today. Well we are going to go down into the dungeon and find a few monsters to fight. I want to see how compatible we are as a group.”

“How much are you paying us for that?” Roakala asks.

“Well if we find anything while we are down there, we’ll split it evenly. Remember, I have yet decided on your membership status”

“This is a lot of danger for a test princess. I think it’s fair that we get a bit of compensation. Maybe some collateral in case you don’t make it back.” Roakala adds, reaching to get more eggs.

“Well I did pay for your meals and lodging and I did save you from that mob you incited. I think I’ve compensated you plenty”

Roakala looks at her plate full of eggs, thinking for a moment before letting out “I could have taken ’em”

“Well” Diljaris says smiling “There shouldn’t be much danger for someone of your skill set. If what you say is true that is.”

“Hey” Roakala responds, slightly agitated “You don’t have to worry about me. I ain’t just talk.” There is a moment of silence as the three stare at the half-orc who wears a pugnacious look on her face. The scents of breakfast fill her flared nostrils. She seems to calm and sighs “All I am saying, moving forward, Ima need more than just breakfast.”

There is a small lift that has been built against the old well at the center of the bar. It is made from a small system of pulleys that attach to a wooden platform big enough to hold a small party of adventurers. The party finds itself in front of its sleeping operator. He is a older man with grayed mangled hair and an untrimmed beard and an untidy appearance. He sleeps soundly leaning against tower wall.

“Excuse me sir?” Diljaris says as he pokes the man gently. He jumps suddenly, staring back at the party who now surrounds him. It takes him a moment to regain full consciousness before finally asking “What do you want?!”

“We would like to go down, can you please give us a lift?”

“1 gold each” he grumbles.

“1 gold? You have to be kidding me? What if we take the ladder?” Gorak points to an old dirty ladder that goes down the side of the wall.

“It’s a gold either way. Are you going or not?” the man snaps as he stares down the party.

“Can we give you 2 gold and take the stairs?” Drugnar asks as he starts counting coins in his purse.

“Look I don’t make the rules. I just sit here and charge the fee. If you have an issue, take it up with Durnan. Pay up or leave” The man was clearly in a foul mood.

The party looks at each other with undecided looks in their eyes. Roakala is clearly angered by the man’s disposition. Her first ball up tightly as she takes a step towards the man, but before she could say a word, Diljaris interjects “Alright that’s fair” She pulls out her coin purse “4 gold it is.” Diljaris hands over the four gold and places the purse back in her pocket. “But we would like to use the lift”

“Yeah yeah, hurry up. Hop on” The man says, putting the coins in his pocket.

The party squeezes into the small wooden platform. The wood is worn and dirty. The wood creeks as it bears the weight of the party. Despite it’s rugged appearance, the lift is well built.  The man begins to work the pully and the party begins its slow initial decent into the dungeon bellow. The darkness begins to hug them as the echoes of their decent bounce about the stone creating the a mountainous melody of their first adventure. They watch as the bar moves farther and father away until it is a small skylight. They land on the soft murky sand with a jolting thud. Gorak lights a torch. The light washes over the darkened walls revealing an explosion of colorful graffiti. Here the, names and words written in all the languages come together to form the story of the countless adventurers that have walked over this sand and through the old wooden doors. Confined in this small room, isolated from everything the party stands in admiration and excitement as boots crunch into the dirty sand. Fingers trace against the crumbling colored stone while Roakala digs through the pills of discarded refuse.

Her old glove digs through. Her fingers stop as they touch something hard. She pulls out a dirty clumping ball, perhaps something ceramic? She wipes it on her tunic, spitting on it every so often. The sand and mug begin to fade under her diligence, revealing an ivory colored orb. On closer inspection, she makes out a blackened iris. Staring back at her, a finely made glass eye sits on her hand.

“What did you find?” Drugnar asks as he moves towards the orc.

Roakala turns the iris so that it stares back at the dwarf. “Looks like someone is walking around with half their eyes.” She chuckles as she palms the eye and places it gingerly in her pocket. “What do we do now?”

The party looks at each other as the echoes of the lift returning to the top encapsulates them. They turn to the door. It seems out of place within its place on the wall. Surrounded by old dirty stone sits a freshly stained door on new hinges. A minute goes by before Drugnar finally breaks the silence. “I guess let’s see what’s behind door number 1.”

Bridge Over Water

Shot with an iPhone 12

There is a river that sloshes against the man made bank. There are waves that crash against the pillars. There is a family of ducks that has learned to call this place home. I’ve seen them and watched them grow.

There are lines here that were meticulously crafted. That were designed and left behind and now they sit here overlooked and abandoned. How can something so important be lost and disregarded?

I hear the sounds of the car engine as it passes over me. I hear the echoes of the wheels going over pavement bouncing off the walls. I watch as it disappears down the street and I wonder if they thought of me too.

I listen as the waves crash on the man made bank, as the waves crash against the pillars. I feel the cool morning breeze against my face and watch as the sunrises over the city scape. I wonder if I can call this home yet?