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The Mad Mage Chronicles: Chapter 7

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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.

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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.

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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”

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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.

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“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”

D&D

Mad Mage Chronicles – CH6

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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.

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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.

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“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”

D&D

Mad Mage Chronicles – CH5

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

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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.

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Mad Mage Chronicles – CH4

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Breakfast With a Plan

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

Krodan Mess Hall by TylerEdlinArt on DeviantArt

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.”

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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.”

Photography, Poems

Bridge Over Water

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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?

D&D

Mad Mage Chronicles – CH3

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Human and a Dwarf walk into a Bar

This Story is based on the published Wizards of the Coast advetnuter The Dungeon of the Mad Mage.

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A young man and a dwarf arrive in Waterdeep as the town begins to close for the night.

The young man is in his 20’s. Tall and slender with dark brown hair that he keeps short and neatly slicked back. He has brown eyes and light brown skin. On his back he carries a quiver full of arrows and a finely made bow. His clothes aren’t new, but they are well kept with a few patches of dirt that have settled from their travel.  His partner is a stout dwarf with grey skin. His black hair is fixed up in a neat pony tail and his beard is neatly braded. He wears plated mail armor and a hammer swings at his side. On his chest, a small silver symbol of Paylor bonces against his chest as they walk.

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They walk through a street where tired looking  vendors carry boxes and crates into shops or load them onto large wooden carts. One vendors smile at the newcomers and tries to make one last sale. The dwarf buys a couple apples and asks for directions to the Yawning Portal.

They continue through the streets of Waterdeep, twisting and turning through alleys as directed. The citizens of Waterdeep sit on their porches and watch the pair as they have loud exchanges of stories, jokes and the town gossip. The pair are hit with the smells of industry mixing with the sweet loving smells of traditional dinners. There is laughter as kids chase each other through the alleys. Lanterns begin to go up as the sky darkens.

Finally they turn the corner see the old face of the Yawning Portal. It is an older building made from ancient stone. It looks out of place here, yet it is the center of it  all. It’s old wooden doors let out loud screeches that echo off the buildings around them. The pair step over a drunkard, careful not to step in his vomit. A group of rowdy adventures stumbles past the pair, singing the incoherent song of inebriation. And as the sun begins to set over the skyline, they can see the light of the flickering hearth that casts the wild dancing shadows of its patrons on the surrounding buildings. They can hear the murmurs of singing chanting and shouting. The bar is alive and the two are unable hide their excitement.The dwarf takes a deep breath, the smell of stale alcohol and cheap tobacco fills his lungs. “Well boy, we made it” the Dwarf says with a giant grin on his face.

“That we did my friend” says the young man as his hand clasps onto the dwarfs shoulder. The pair take in scenery like one would a sunset. A man stumbles to the corner of the bar and throws up against the wall but they don’t seem to notice.

Finally the Drawf taps the young man at his side “Come let’s have a drink!” The Pair take an eager step towards the bar.

Inn Of Heroes by atomiiii on DeviantArt

Without glancing at the sheet the young man responds “Well if you think if it’s a good idea, count me in. I’ll follow you anywhere brother”

The Dwarf nods as he pats the young man on the shoulder “It’s settled then, let’s go find this Dil-Jar-Us or whomever” the Dwarf says as he walks towards the bar. “But first, a drink!”

The young man follows the Dwarf to the bar. The barkeep is busy handing out drinks and doesn’t notice the pair. The Dwarf pulls up a stool and places his hands on the sticky counter and waits patiently. The young man watches the crowd and laughs at the jokes he overhears. Finally the Barkeep comes to the dwarf “What are ya havin?”

“We need food, drink, and information” says the Dwarf as he pulls up a stool to sit at the bar. His feet dangle over the stool. The young man stands besides him, watchful of the room.

“Food and drink we have. As for information? That depends on the kind you need”  The barkeep starts filling mugs.

“We are looking for the person who put this up” the Dwarf places the flyer on the bar and pushes it gently towards the barkeep.

The barkeep reads it. He chuckles and places the mugs on the sheet. “That’s an easy one. They’re sitting over there” he points to the corner to Diljaris and Roakala.

“Do you know anything about them?”

The barkeep shakes his head and shrugs “They just came in today. The dragonborn girl wants to start an adventuring party.  That’s all I know”

The Dwarf nods understandingly and places a silver piece on the bar. He thanks the barkeep and move towards the Diljaris with drink in their hand. “Howd!” Says the Dwarf Loudly, trying to get their attention. “My associate and I are here to inquire upon this here job listing” The Dwarf places the piece of paper on the table. “Might it be alright if we join you for a parlay? We don’t mean to impose of course” The young man watches the Dwarf in clear bewilderment.

“Of course you may, we would be delighted. My name is Diljaris Eshbis and this is my friend Roakala”

“We’re not friends” murmurs Roakala

“Oh right, excuse our rudeness, we’ve been on the road for a while now. My names is Drugnar Oathhammer and this is my companion Gorak Truthseeker. The pleasure is all ours of course” the Dwarf nudges at the young man’s side.

“Nice to meet you” Gorak replies, clearing his throat. He seems watchful of the pair and eyes over the Roakala suspiciously.

ArtStation – 2016, CHANZ Z

“Is there a problem?” Roakala asks aggressively, slamming her spoon down on the wooden table.

“Why are you all the way out here? Shouldn’t you be with one of the clans?” Gorak asks.

“I’m a half Orc. I never joined a clan. Is my presence going to be a distraction?” The vein on her temple begins to throb. She grinds her teeth and begins to reach for her sword.

A blue scaled hand reaches over the table. “Now Roakala, there’s no need for that.” Diljaris turns to Gorak who is also reaching for the dagger at this side. “And you need to be more sensible about what you say. That was rude and uncalled for. If you want to join my team you will need to be respectful of your teammates”

With a worried look on his face, Drugnar steps forward. “Please excuse my friend. We’ve been away from civilization for so long, he’s forgotten how to interact with people. You won’t have any problems from us, isn’t that right Gorak?”

Gorak’s hand tensely hovers over the dagger as he continues to watch the Orc. He remains silent as he studies the orc before finally relaxing and responding “Yes, we won’t cause any more trouble” Gorak sounds defeated as he sits down at the end of the table and begins to eat his bowl of stew without speaking

Diljaris smiles and responds “That’s quite alright, we understand” Roakala stares down the Dragonborn who doesn’t seem to notice. Diljaris flips to a new page in her journal and continues “Well down to bussiness. Why do you think you would be a good addition to our team?”

Drugnar brushes his beard as he ponders before finally saying  “We are great warriors and have travelled quite a distance to be here. We have successfully escorted merchants across the country. We saved a small mining village from goblins. If I continue to list our achievements you will find we are quite an impressive pair”

Diljaris diligently takes notes. Gorak peers over at the page of neat yet quickly scribbled draconic symbols. Diljaris turns to him “Do you have anything to add?”

Gorak is stunned for a moment as he ponders “I’ll shoot anything you need me to and this old man right here is the best medicine man you’ll ever need” he turns to look at the Roakala “What do you do?”

Roakala, who was in the midst of drinking her ale, puts down her mug and responds dismissively “I kill things with a sword”. She continues to eat her stew in silence.

“I’m not surprised” Gorak sneers

Roakala stands up, shaking the table almost spilling the bowls and plates that shake violently as they settle. “Are we gunna have a problem?”

“Only if you want to have one orc” Gorak says as he stands up, again reaching for his dagger. A grey heavy hand comes down on his shoulder and pulls him back. He attempts to resist but he wasn’t prepared and the hand pulls him back slightly, breaking his aggressive stance for the moment.

“This isn’t the time for that Gorak!” Drugnar says angrily. “These ladies have done nothing wrong except invite a couple of brutes to join them for dinner. Now apologize and act right.”

Gorak clenches his fists. He stands motionless at the center of the group, staring back at the Orc. Roakala mirroring his aggressing, her nostrils flare as she is ready to attack if given a reason. He takes a deep breath as his eyes meet with Drugnar who looks back angrily and disappointed. Gorak sighs as he moves his hand away from his weapon.  “Sorry” he finally says sullenly and sits back down.

Drugnar turns back to the pair “Please don’t this incident affect your decision, he’s just not used to people”

“You mean Orcs?” Roakala scoffs.

“Look we can do better, let’s start over. We would love to join your party, how much does it pay?”

“Well” Diljaris replies, examining the pair “if I decide on your eligibility, everyone in the party is subject to an equal cut to all treasure and payments we receive during our time together. That is of course if they are able to earn it?

“And how do we go about becoming eligible?” Drugnar continues, looking over the notes she continues to scribble neatly into.

“Through a simple trial. The first step you are already a part of. The next step I, if you move on, will be trial by combat. We will go down into the dungeon and you can properly showcase your skills there. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Why are you here? What do you want to achieve?”

“Well my friend, I need the money and any amount helps. My young excitable friend here wants to make a name for himself. They say those who are able to explore this dungeon in it’s entirety will gain access to unimaginable riches and become legends in the process. Is that reason enough?” Diljaris continues to fill the pages with notes. She mumbles to herself in draconic. A few moments of this pass when the dwarf turns to Roakala and asks “Is your friend ok?”

Roakala shrugs “She’s not my friend, I just met her today”

“Oh hush Roakala. We’re friends, you just don’t know it yet” She says as she shuts the notebook with an audible thump. “Well after careful review of all of the potential candidates I have come to the decision to move you all to the next phase.

“Aren’t we the only candidates?” Roakala asks.

Diljaris ignores the Remark and continues “You have proven to be the most promising of the lot. Congratulation. Now eat up, get some rest we start tomorrow morning”

“Err what are we doing?” Gorak asks, breaking his brooding silence.

Diljaris perks up and smiles sweetly. Her tail wags back and forth slowly. “Isn’t it obvious? Down into the Dungeon”

Photography, Poems

The Clouds Roll in at Midnight

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And as I watch the clouds roll in, I’m hopeful for the rain. I’m hopeful for the change they will bring and the new day ahead.

It is easy to get hung up on the small inconveniences life brings. Like rain or having a bad day. It’s even easier to waste time trying to control every aspect of life seeking perfection, but life isn’t perfect. Life is as unpredictable as a Summer storm and the truest test of character is having the ability to roll with fates unpredictable flow. Adapting and persevering is part of the human experience.

Be hopeful and keep moving forward.

Shot with an iPhone 12

Photography, Poems

Grass in the Wind

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A single blade of grass.

Watch as it flows with the morning breeze. Watch as it is wisked away by outside forces. It’s future is predetermined. Its expiration date has been set and yet it still stands tall, uncaring or unconcerned.

 Today it waits for the sunrise. It enjoys it’s majesty. Tomorrow it could ffall and disappear under an emerald current. Or be carried away to make a home for a bird. Gone, leaving in it’s place an empty seat for all who remember it.

Soon a new blade of grass will come to replace it. One with new memories, ideas and dreams. And although it might share the same fate, this one will be different. But this one will stand proudly too.

Shot with a Nikon D90

Photography

Architecture in Negative Space

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It is through the perfection of life that we see beauty. I find that it is in the mistakes of the world where true beauty lies. There is an obsession with the standardization of beauty. Rules and guidelines that define a very limited definition of beauty. And when we expect life to be a certain way and follow certain structures we tend to miss the basic elements that make life beautiful. The blemishes of life is what makes the human experience unique. We must learn to celebrate these imperfections and embrace an unorthodox and unregulated definition of what it means to be beautiful.

Shot with a Nikon D90

D&D

D&D Sessions: A Warforged’s Backstory

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This is part of a larger on going story. Click here for the full story!

ALIEN MOTHERSHIP by DorianoArt on DeviantArt

Our story begins on a large bio-mechanical ship. The large circular ship moves through space on a mission to learn everything it can about the universe. It is within its metal walls where it all begins. The mothership is life. From the outside, the ship looks alone and almost abandoned as it journeys through space but inside it is alive. Inside you find the endless rows of pods of dormant warforges. Smaller versions of the mothership, designed and manufactured to carry out the ultimate mission. Each one is meticulously created for the greater purpose. In the darkness, large arms move franticly, checking vitals, making repairs, and birthing those ready to be awaken.

Interior mothership concept. by alexdrummo on DeviantArt

Today is B.U.D.’s birthday. A long arm connects to his pod. Slowly it checks for vitals as it begins the awakening protocols. It begins to upload the history of the mothership and feelings of fondness towards the her. It uploads important objectives and protocols and any pertinent to the mission. He is also imbued with  an unrivaled curiosity. Aside from that, B.U.D. is a blank slate, eager to learn.

The arm detaches from the pod. B.U.D.’s eyes open slowly. He is blinded by the light. He blinks wildly as his eyes become accustomed to the light. The shadows come first, slowly creeping up against the corners. Slowly the colors start to fill in, erasing the white that blinds him. Details are made clearer until he sits in his pod staring at an empty metal corridor. Hot steam blows out from a nearby vent. He is mesmerized by the beauty of the mothership and stands there motionless.

Warforged Cleric by ThatweirdguyJosh on DeviantArt

A voice in his head directs him to his first objective, get to the pod. Prepare for departure.

A strip of light on red light illuminates a path that turns down a corridor, leading him away from his ship. He follows it past the rows of dormant pods. Past arms in a frenzy with pre-programmed instructions. Past the pipes that leak hot steam at almost random intervals. As he walks, he takes it all in. Every curve, pipe, sound that fills his head with wonder and amazement. He commits everything to memory and moves in silence. He follows the lights until he comes to a pair of doors that slide open revealing an area just big enough for him to stand snuggly. He fits himself in and watches as the hatch closes. There is a small window for him to see out of. A large console wraps around him full of monitors, buttons, switches, dials, and blinking light. A moment of silence goes by as he sits in darkness. He feels a rumbling coming from somewhere in his new pod as he is spit out into space. 

In his amazement, he looks onto the Mothership. He analyses every feature he continues to float away slowly from the massive ship. Another strange rumbling from within and he watches as the pod adjusts itself, aiming towards an unknown direction The rockets fire and he watches as the Mothership disappears into the darkness. Time passes. He spends his waking hours looking out the window and listening some of the data that was left for him to learn.

Eventually the ship enters the orbit. B.U.D. watches the bright blue mass grow in front of him. Around him, the air heats up turning red as it falls through the atmosphere towards the continent of Wild Mount. The pod lands in a massive explosion that shakes the whole continent. Large chunks of earth and trees give way as it nestles itself into a giant burning crater. A large cloud of dust and smoke hide him from the rest of the world. The hatch pops off and a mixture of hot and cool air hit B.U.D. instantly. It takes him a moment to get out, mostly because he is distracted by the smoke and the dust and the fire. He takes his first step. His feat lands on soft chard earth. He feels bits of gravel scratch at the souls of his feet. With increasing confidence, he takes more steps until he is out of the massive crater.

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He watches the crater as the smoke and dust continue to do their dance in the north blowing wind. But he also makes out the nature he has disrupted. The green of the trees that sit somewhat skewed away from him. He is overwhelmed by this new influx of color that he stands there motionless for a long lingering moment. He takes more slow steps towards nature as he stops constantly to collect new data. Rocks, sticks, flowers, anything new to send to the mothership. He pops them in his mouth, his body digests it. Analyzing everything in it’s composition and saves as data that he will later send out to the mothership in the form of what he calls prayer.

He is distracted when the army comes. Guards armed in shinning new armor. Weapons are drawn with fingers tightly laced around their hilts. He is distracted by the world so he doesn’t here the archers knot their bows and take cautious aim at this strange creature. He is so distracted that he doesn’t hear them advance slowly behind him. Studying him. Judging him. Trying to decide whether he be friend of foe.

Captain Trainer leads his men silently. His armor freshly polished, his sword sharpened, his heart beating furiously in his chest he moves forward. When he is at earshot he lets out in feigned confidence

“State your business. Are you friend or foe?”

B.U.D. hears the new sound and begins to process it. He turns around and sees for the first time humanoids slowly moving towards him. Data for the mothership he thinks to himself. He opens his mouth and parrots the words that greeted him.

“What the fuck is that?” a guard whispers nervously to his group. They move forward with caution as B.U.D puts another flower in his mouth. When he turns around, he spots a few soldiers inching forward. Unsure at what to do he waves his arms wildly.  The soldiers tense up. The captain of the troop is the first to speak

“Where are you from? What are you doing here? Did you cause that racket?” Bud repeats the words, not quite understanding the common.

“Do you understand me?” no real response. Captain Trainer sighs and in his growing frustration and confusion he asks “Are you a fucking Kenku?”

B.U.D keeps repeating the new sounds, stringing them in random order. Confused by this response, Captain Trainer tightens his grip on his sword. His men tense up as he inches closer and closer to the creature who stands, watches, and spouts nonsense in common. “My name is John Trainer. I am captain of the royal army military guard. We are here investigating a strange explosion. Did you cause that explosion?”

Still no answer, instead B.U.D. takes a flower he holds in his hand and pops it in his mouth.

Captain Trainer sees his and says “I’m going to get close to you and give you this flower, yum” Captain Trainer begins to mime with his hands, hoping the creature understands gestures. B.U.D. sees this and begins to mime as well. Captain Trainer reaches out his hand with the flower. B.U.D. moves to accept making all the soldiers tense up, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. Captain Trainer uses his free hand to motion his men to continue holding. His heart races and a thick dirty beads of sweat run down his temple. He can see the detail etched into B.U.D.’s armor. It isn’t armor he realizes almost instantly, it is his skin. The metal beast moves his hands to accept the flower “Kenku Trainer Army” he spits out as he grabs the flower. Trainer feels the cold metal on his skin. He sees the unnatural mechanics that allow this creature to move. For a moment the world is still as they continue to decide on whether or not this beast is friend of foe.

It takes a bit of a coaxing and a lot of frustration but captain trainer is able to get B.U.D and back to a nearby barracks. For four years he remains the country’s most well-kept secret. For four years he was constantly watched as he learned everything he could learn about the new world he fell into.

Now B.U.D walks freely with a group of adventures he is growing fond of. Now he is free to continue his mission.