My Dwarf Fighter, Berrik Towerfall - About to obliterate a Green Dragon (I used it's skull as a shield) . Art by my friend Josh Power.
I've been playing Dungeons & Dragons for years.
I cannot fully express my love of the game, but it has become a vital part of my life.
If you haven't played, Dungeons & Dragons is a group based Role-Playing Fantasy game designed to bring out each players unique creativity, building incredible stories and adventures along the way. Be you a Storyteller / Writer, Artist, Voice Actor, Comedian, or someone looking to discover your creative side - Dungeons & Dragons is a playground for the imagination.
Dice rolls are used to determine outcomes of situations, along with other rules found in a series of books.
Multiple people play as a party, while another individual takes on the role of...The Dungeon Master!
The players control one character each, where as the The Dungeon Master is in control of everything else, most importantly, crafting the world around you.
These are my Tales From The Table.
Mulk.
The tale of how we killed a man, and destroyed his legacy in record time.
I believe all good stories deserve a small degree of embellishment. I don’t believe falsehood is anything to be held in high regard, but I do believe, as story tellers, tales from life are done the most justice when they can properly immerse the listener, reader, or player within the feeling of the moment, and seeing that the telling of the story would imply the recipient is getting the information second hand, it is the responsibility of the story teller to fill in the gaps, and do their best work to properly ensure the essence of a specific emotion is present, without the direct involvement of the beneficiary, which is of course, no longer possible.
I’m not sure if I phrased that as well as I would like, but hopefully, the basic idea comes through.
The reason I bring this up (I’m sure I will state variations of this belief several times in the future) is because my memory of this story is full of holes, and although I wish to tell it, I want to be forward in expressing that it will, far more than most, be fabricated without intent. This is largely due to the fact that the majority of the tale is simply a serving tray for the small portion that I hold dear in my heart as a cherished memory.
With that out of the way, allow me to try and crudely piece this thing back together!
Our party was tasked with the assassination of a wealthy man in a small town, the first gap in my memory is simply, I cannot remember his name. I will call him Marco McMoneybags. Marco was a real piece of human trash, making the majority of his wealth off the profit of human trafficking. The rough framework of our exact task was to kill Marco, steal his identity, and attend an underground slave trade event, to dismantle it’s web from the inside, or at the very least, retrieve our employers person of interest from being sold as an item.
Something like that.
Marco was held up within an old warehouse, guarded by several bad guys, which we actually recognized to be a rival adventuring party. A fight broke out!…no physical violence, but the verbal back and forth did get pretty heated. This was one of many instances that took place during the days that I played a character named Scanner, a human rogue…that eventually became a devil, with horns, no left nipple, magically reforged hands, and a heterochromatic dragon eye…both very long tales, which I may document at some time, until then, use your imagination. While the argument drew focus between our two groups, I slithered away unnoticed, entered the building through a cellar window, and killed Marco. Very easily. He may have been rich, but he certainly wasn’t the stuff of legend when it came to combat, fairly certain I stabbed him once in the gut, then he stumbled backward and million dollar babied himself over a nearby piece of furniture (tripped and broke his own neck)
I took the documents we needed, including his identification, and the invitation to the slave trade, then I casually walked out the front door, and informed our rivals that they were now out of the job. They returned with threats of exposing us for murder, our elven warrior broke their leaders legs, they apologized, and we were on our merry way.
Before the night of the event, we had to decide which of us would guise as Marco, naturally, Scanner was best suited for the job in terms of skill…but as I mentioned earlier, Scanner went through some rather jarring visual changes over his time, and this was at a point that Scanner appeared to be something that was most often witnessed chained in a dungeon, if inside a city at all, so Kethra, a human paladin played by our friend Steve, was chosen to represent Marco. Reading over the documents, the invitation made mention that each attendant may arrive with no less, or more than three personal staff (bodyguards, consultants, etc.)
One of our party, a halfling named Fern, was able to turn himself invisible, leaving three of us to choose an alter ego, and walk in the front door unquestioned.
Our Dungeon Master, Pete, gave us a minute to sort out names, and roles for these people.
Our friend Josh told Pete that he would be a merc (short for mercenary) named…and he was stopped! As Pete verified that he heard the word ‘Mulk’ now questioning Josh as to what the hell that is. Josh replied with a chuckle, and clarified what he had actually said, but due to his amusement, changed his mind in the moment, and decided he would indeed be Mulk. After some laughs and discussion as to Mulk’s role, it was decided Mulk was simply there to do whatever Marco needed, mostly used for muscle.
Then it was my turn to choose my false identity. I ignored what I had written, and informed Pete that I would…also like to be Mulk.
Pete sighed, and turned to our friend Nicole, who already had a smile on her face, stating she would also be Mulk.
It really was amazing at how quickly we put together what it meant to be Mulk - Mulk it was decided, was a collective form of identity one would take up, in an almost religious sense. A Mulk would forgo individual thought, speaking only the word ‘Mulk’ regardless of context (This decision was made to avoid the need for us to keep our story straight amongst one another, allowing Kethra to be the only speaker in our group.) The Mulk’s would work as a team at all times, and react to all situations as one. If Kethra was in any perceived danger, we would slowly walk toward the potential threat, and slowly chant ‘mulk…Mulk…MULK!’ Until the situation dissolved…I don’t think I can properly describe everything without it getting too messy, it really was a bizarre thing. Hopefully what you have read up to this point illustrates some form of coherent idea.
Josh having chosen to be Mulk before all others, was designated Mulk Prime, Nicole and I gladly taking on roles of lesser Mulks beside him. Wherever Mulks are, it was decided, there is always a Mulk Prime among the herd.
Having arrived at the event, we had SO MUCH INFORMATION to gather from several attendants…unfortunately all conversations went the exact same.
Kethra: Hello, are you -insert name here-?
Event Goer: Why yes, I am —-, and these are my companions, blah, blah, blah. And who might you lot be?
Kethra: My name is Marco McMoneybags, and these are my personal entourage…Three Mulks. Do you know anything about the-
Event Goer: [Interupting Kethra] Hold on, I’ve changed gears…I beg your pardon?
We didn’t get a drip of information from anyone! Once they were introduced to the Mulks, that is all they were willing to talk about.
We ended up having to kill most of them to rescue the people being traded, but we gave an honest attempt to solve things peacefully. It just didn’t work out.
We of course faked Marco’s death publicly to leave no loose ends.
Marco McMoneybags was a horrible person in life, and in death, his legacy will forever be damaged. The survivors of that night will not tell tales of his affinity for business, or charity work (be it all for show) nor his enormous wealth, or charisma. The name Marco McMoneybags in the world of Nara means only one thing to all that hear it…
“…Isn’t he that dead maniac that had all the Mulks?”
Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Fern.
I don’t know why we thought it needed to be done, but once upon a time, we decided it was best (if only for the sake of knowledge) to roll for our character’s dick sizes. Female character’s rolled for cup size, if I recall correctly.
Our Dungeon Master, Pete, set the dice for each race - Humans would roll a D8 (eight sided die), Large characters would roll larger dice, or smaller dice multiple times.
I, playing a human character, rolled a gentleman’s five. Playing a rogue at the time, I was confident that anything my character lacked in endowment, I could make up for with outstanding finger work.
Our friend Alex, rolled a four, the lowest roll. A feeling of devastation filled the room.
A quick side note - If you are reading this, and fall into the category of ‘They who wield a sword of meager size’ think not for a second that I would imply that is something to feel devastated over. I can say with an honest heart that reviews from the two women I have had sex with are less than glowing (Depending on which year you read this, that number may have gone up to three, I don’t know how lucky I’ll get), and I have a magnum dong! So size isn’t everything. Be confident, and work with what you have kings!
As I was saying…
Alex rolled his four, and although he was less than satisfied, he respected the roll, and wrote the number on his character sheet without complaint.
Two sessions later, in the middle of combat, Alex was eyeing over his papers - following a look of excitement, he burst into laughter!
I neglected to mention Alex’s character specifics earlier on, to best emulate the exact situation, as none of us connected the dots until this moment. Alex was playing a halfling Bard named Fernius…A exceptionally small halfling Bard.
Two and a half feet tall, with a four inch penis. Relative to his size…Fern was swinging a hammer.
Always one step ahead!
This is a fun little story, about a particular instance, in which the group attempted to exploit our Dungeon Master’s decision.
Spoiler Alert: It didn’t work.
After our usually tom foolery in a small village, we planned to set out once again, and stopped by a local shop for supplies -
Just your average “General Goods” type of place.
Our party was gathering rations, and various things we would need for our journey. We approached the man at the desk, and were asked by the employee for a total of 18 gold. The gold was placed in his hands, and we watched as he stared down at the added weight in his palms, realizing he could just leave this shop, start a new life, and retire - answering to only himself from now on, heck, he could easily start a shop of his own with that amount in a small town.
Needless to say, we didn’t simply sit by, we encouraged the man! He had been working his whole life, surely, and in our eyes, deserved a retirement. I placed another 2 gold on top of the small coin pile to make his decision easier. Then, With a smile on his face, and a pep in his step, the man flew out the door!…and I was eager to turn to my party, with the shop now unattended, and gleefully said “Alright gang, let’s rob this place blind!.”
We started to grab everything that wasn’t nailed down, the door opened, and a man in much more formal attire walked in…and placed and “open” sign in the window. Needless to say he was shocked to see us, but must have forgotten to lock up while out to lunch, so in his eyes there was no harm done.
He gave us the total for the items in our hands. We simply put the items down, and informed him that he had been robbed blind!
We had no time to waste, there was a thief on the loose! We ran outside, spotted the cretin from a distance, and called for the guards.
We were gone before they could stop us for questioning, but left empty handed.
And that’s how our dungeon master prevented us from getting, what would have been, far too much free stuff!
…Another time.
We are really bad at this
A fun little story, that I often look back on, was the time our group found a remote Dwarven Kingdom!
I was playing my Dwarf Fighter at the time, Berrik Towerfall.
This tale takes place shortly after we abandoned an Ooze infested pirate ship, and got lost in a nearby swamp.
We had traveled for ages, we were hungry, tired, and in desperate need of supplies. After taking refuge in a cave, we were located by a native group of Dwarves, and taken to their kingdom.
The Dwarves recognized us as an adventuring party, and saw a great deal of value in us, as they currently had a rather large problem on their hands. We met with the Dwarf King & were tasked with investigating a mysterious mine shaft located near the throne room (Dwarves, they will dig Anywhere) As all who entered the mine shaft, had not returned! For this task, we were to be fed, healed, and properly equipped for our journey.
The offer was generous and we ...killed all of them.
Listen, I could really stretch this story out, it would just upset you, due to the "It was all just a dream" caliber twist.
Basically we went into the mine shaft and slayed a bunch of foul creatures, only to realize that some sort of spores were making us hallucinate. Turns out, in reality, we immediately left the mine shaft. All the monsters we were slaying, were actually the Dwarves that hired us to help them.
...And Boy, were we ever efficient in turning that throne room to a bloody mess.
When we came to our senses, I`m pretty sure I had just decapitated the King, or something.
And that was the day we realized we were not very good at helping people.
...I had to take a leak
Dungeons & Dragons is always fun, but this week was special.
Our Dungeon Master, Pete, Had purchased custom mini figurines for each of our characters, and they had finally arrived in the mail! Pete had the idea of making us earn our figurines one by one, to add even more excitement. We were not given specific tasks, Just told we would earn our figure once we had performed something exceptional ... as per the Dungeon Master of course.
Our session started with our characters having just made camp in the woods as night slowly crept over us. As usual, we decided our order of who would take night watch, First up was our groups signature Beefy elf, Quorthon, An Eldritch Knight played by my friend Josh. Quorthon tended to the fire for some time, and when everyone was sound a sleep...he heard a rustling in the bushes, followed by a voice. The voice told Quorthon not to panic, & that no harm was to come to him. Quorthon questioned the voice, as it seemed without form, and he agreed to speak should the owner of the voice reveal itself. After a short delay, A man appeared before Quorthon as if out of thin air, As he had been using a type of cloaking magic. The mans attire was familiar to Quorthon, Pale robes belonging to a cult (And long time foes of our party) "The Empty Vessel"!
Let me catch you up,
We have a twelve year old kid in our party, Emily Rose (Who is played by my adult friend Nicole...No I don't hang out with twelve year old kids in real life, Get your head out of the gutter) Emily has supernatural abilities, primarily the power to heal herself & others in a way that would impress even the most skilled magic users. The Empty Vessel believes she is a sort of religious figure, and deems her unworthy of her gift, Leaving them with the bright idea to slaughter the child, in hopes her gift will be passed to a "More worthy" Disciple.
Needless to say, Quorthon addressed his concern without hesitation. The cult member introduced himself and assured he wanted no harm to come to Emily, In fact, It was the reason for his appearance.
He had come to warn us that a group of his friends have made camp up ahead, waiting to ambush us.
After some time, and no small amount of questions, Quorthon had come to believe the man was worth trusting, and they had devised a plan for our party to take an alternate route to our destination, as to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.
The man left, and Quorthon finished his watch...And now it was time for me to take his place.
I was playing my rogue, Scanner. Scanner is lawful Evil...I don't believe that Scanner is truly evil at heart, quite the opposite really, but he has a list of very strict rules that are understandably...well, questionable. I asked Quorthon if anything worth note happened during his watch, and he made the horrible, Horrible mistake of telling me the truth.
Scanner has a zero tolerance policy when it comes to those who would dare harm a child, and The Empty Vessel makes him see Red without fail. I waited until Quorthon was sound asleep (Rather, In his elf-like trance) and then I made my way over to Kethra (Our groups Cleric, played by my friend Steve) and I gave her a nudge to wake her. Kethra opened her eyes and I said very simply "Hey, Can you keep watch for a minute, I have to take a leak."
Kethra agreed...But she also had enough sense to keep an eye on me, noticing as I walked behind a nearby tree, only to awkwardly run off into the distance immediately after I was "Out of sight"
And that's when the murders started...
I found the cultists camp not too far ahead of our own, I was in a beautiful clearing, with a fire set, A circle of men sleeping nearby it, and one small tent pitched off to the side. Two men sat guard, both facing the same direction, like idiots. Slowly, I snuck up behind the two of them, with the intent of cutting both their throats with one quick swoop...
...It could have gone better, Despite me using daggers and aiming for their necks, they both somehow got their ribs broken (The dice do as they will) and only one of them died outright, I had to chase the other a few feet, and he made some Horrible gurgling noises along the way.
Fortunately! Only one person woke up...the same guy Quorthon spoke to earlier. He was sleeping in the tent, and opened the flap to see what was going on. His timing could not have been much worse, I had just lit a couple torches using the nearby fire, and had thrown one toward the tent. The torch hit the poor guy in the chest and and gave him a real fright. While he was swiping furiously at his robes in shock, I walked over, booted him inside the tent. I proceeded to light the tent on fire with the second torch, Not to mention circle it like a shark once it was ablaze, to ensure no one escaped.
The raging fire woke the remaining cult members sleeping outside... Some got away, Aside from the two slowest dudes, and the guy who couldn't get out of his sleeping bag in time (I'm fairly certain I broke his ribs also) I simply yelled the word "Run!" at the remaining cultists as they fled into the woods.
(I am aware this all sounds horrible, but hey, I got to protect the kid, right?)
After my brief Midnight Blood Bath, I headed back toward camp.
While this had all been happening, Kethra had woken Quorthon & the others. They spent some time talking, but eventually decided to go after me. Besra (Our groups Monk, played by my friend Julian) Was our groups fastest member, By Far, And he raced ahead of the others, hoping to catch me before and damage was done.
Besra arrived just in time to see my shady silhouette cast by a collapsing tent on fire. I knew that I had been ratted out, But I thought I would try my chances anyway, Simply saying...
"...I had to take a leak."
And That is how I got my character figurine.
Well this is fucking awkward
I was the Dungeon Master for a group of three players.
The party consisted of a Human Bard, Fighter, and Goliath Barbarian. The adventurers were braving an underground dungeon, in search of excitement and treasure! In record time, They had overcome a horrifying shape-shifter, Opened a door which seemed unable to be opened, crossed an over sized spike pit, and eventually found themselves in a hallway with four different colored doors. One of the doors was red, The Barbarian (Formerly known as Root-Smasher) who was played by my friend Alex, Opened the door to reveal a room full of skeletons, And a glowing Orb upon an altar at the far end (About 30 or so feet away) The door was promptly closed due to it's bad vibes.
The fighter in the group was named Bierget, A stocky sailor played by my friend Lisa, who was playing Dungeons & Dragons for the first time. Despite the fact Bierget was practically mute (Due to "Someone" choosing a hilarious yet seemingly embarrassing...dutch? accent) Lisa did a dynamite job for a first time player. After a few trips to different doors, Bierget decided to go back through the red one to get that orb!
I pictured her walking in confidently for the first ten feet or so, before slowing down awkwardly and remembering the room was full of skeletons...Regardless, the orb was nearly withing her grasp. Root-Smasher had walked in after Bierget, with the Bard now alone in the hallway. The fighter bent down to grab the orb, and upon making contact, the door slammed closed behind them! The light left the room, as the Skeletons rose up from the ground, and formed a line in front of the now sealed exit, leaving Bierget and Root-Smasher trapped inside with them.
But let us jump outside the room for a second and join the other player.
The Bard...The Bard was a piece of work.
This guy was played by my friend Josh, and Josh loves to make characters. I can say with absolute certainty, that Josh has a gift for developing unique, rich, intriguing characters...But a solid 90% end up with some "Creepy" characteristics, if not from the start, they will be inherited. I do not recall this particular characters name, but I can still see him clear as crystal. A large man over six feet, who wore his skullet with pride.
The Bard was outside the room when the door slammed...
...And he opened it right back up.
The skeletons had give or take two seconds of being cool and intimidating, before getting beat to a pulp from both sides.
What, you aren't happy to see your dead wife?
A long time ago, I played a Wizard named Malodon. Malodon is old, powerful, and above all else...an idiot.
I'll be clear, Malodon does not lack intelligence, he has a wealth of knowledge! Unfortunately, he's fucking old and his wisdom packed up shop ages ago.
Our Dungeon Master at the time was my friend Ian, Ian has an incredible talent for storytelling. Our adventures were rich with detail, you could almost smell the air around you, as Ian would maneuver his hands in the air to better craft the environment. Back in those days, we spent a lot of time with our characters out of combat, far from dungeons. We rather found joy exploring each new city, meeting the inhabitants, and uncovering their secrets.
One of the coolest things Ian set up, was a scenario in which our group had to infiltrate a party, with a guest list full of rich folks. In all honesty, I can't recall what information we were sent to obtain, All I know, Is that I had one job! and I blew it.
The group split up, hoping to maximize our chances of finding whoever it was we were looking for, and all I had to do was make sure the Captain of the guard stayed occupied for the duration of our stay.
The captain of the guard was good at his job, and if you weren't on the guest list, you were out of there!
So how was I going to keep this guy distracted without him seeing me?
Well, at some point I had seen a painting of this guys wife, and Malodon has the magical ability to disguise his form, so...
I found a spot where no one could see me, and cast the spell, along with another to adorn myself in a gorgeous white dress. The guard captain was outside on the balcony, It was almost perfect. There was one little problem, the spell did not change the users voice, and Malodon didn't exactly sound like a beautiful young woman...Lucky for me, he didn't have to. There was no one else on the balcony, just to two of us. As I approached, he looked at me with wide eyes, and his lip began to quiver as tears began to fall from his face. He simply uttered "I'm so sorry" And off he went! Onto the railing. And over The Edge.
Turns out his wife had been dead for years.
Sweep the not bad
Upon reaching the caverns,
"You see a strange looking goblin dressed in an oddly cobbled together attire of formal ware seemingly pieced together out of random bits of cloth. He is sitting sadly on a rock near the entrance to the tunnels, with a hobos bindle over one shoulder and a deep frown on his face. Upon noticing your approach, he perks up and seems incredibly happy, introducing himself with a grand bow.
He introduces himself as Sweep...Sweep the Not Bad"
This is how we met our temporary goblin companion.
When we first met Sweep, he informed us that he was looking for new friends, his old friends were mean & unsophisticated. He was far too intelligent for a goblin, and lacked the primitive qualities of his kind.
When we inquired as to how this came to be, He told us the story of the Purple Light Rock.
Sweep got into a scrap with the goblin leader, and left to cool down. Deep within the cave system, Sweep found a glowing purple rock, upon touching it he was filled with new understanding and perception of the world around him (He even showed us the necklace he made for himself, using a fragment of the rock)
Sweep no longer needed the other goblins and left to seek adventure, as he could now make decisions for himself. His character was played by our friend Julian, who is truly blessed with the gift of gab. My favorite Sweep moment was during a combat encounter, Sweep took a serious amount of damage in one blow, and one of our companions rushed to his side asking if he was alright. The little goblin looked up and quietly spoke "Sweep...not bad, but, but he's not good."
We didn't know Sweep for long, After we left the goblin caverns Sweeps necklace broke on a rock or something.
All I remember is that he went feral and killed one of our companions...
...And then we killed him.
It was a sweet ride while it lasted though.
There Is Snow way that worked!
During our most recent adventure, the party found itself lost (Due to a series of incredibly poor dice rolls) in a snow covered mountain forest. The snowfall became hazardous, and we could hear thunderous noise off in the distance as the very earth began to shake under our feet. We wandered for a good long while, when two large shapes appeared in the distance. They approached, slowly at first, then, much quicker. Before we knew it, we were standing in front of two Frost Giants! One boasted a magnificent beard, he lowered to a knee and spoke to us. We were informed as to our apparent trespassing and were presented with the "vague" option of Work or Food. Quarthon (Our Beefy Elven warrior) spoke quietly..."food?"
There was no chance to reason, as the giants hammer raced towards us! But fortune was on our side. Fernius, a Gnome Bard in our company, reacted with haste, Charming our foes with his musical majesty, Leaving them dazed and confused. We knew physical harm would snap the beasts back into reality, and we decided to focus fire on them one at a time. To our surprise, we managed to best the powerful enemies, and left with all of our bones in tact. I did however, learn the hard way that you Do Not want those guys to even hit the ground near you.
Soon after, the storm got much worse, and we needed to find shelter. Upon searching, we noticed a large cave mouth in the distance...With two sleeping giants just outside. We had used too much energy in our previous battle, the best course of action was hoping to sneak passed them. Two members of our party, took to the sky, and reached the cave entrance with ease. Meanwhile, us Non-Magic folk had to make a slow and clumsy descent toward it. The cave was not far, but it was downhill, and it was ever so slippery. Lucky for me, I play a nimble rogue, and the dice were rolling in my favor. I flowed down the hill with grace, almost dancing as my other to party members tumbled down like a couple of idiotic over sized babies trying to walk for the first time.
I made a comment.
And indeed ate my words.
As I finished mocking my friends, My footing slipped.
I rolled so fast, that I became nothing more than a large snowball heading downward. I eventually hit something, and came to a stop, as my unwanted snowy disguise fell to pieces. The giants awoke and headed toward me to investigate the sound that had so rudely woken them. Quarthon (The Musclebound Elf I mentioned earlier) was not prepared to give up....and decided to imitate the noise of a mountain goat.
After a long out of game debate, as to whether or not it sounded convincing,
I waited for my impending doom.
But the giants totally bought it, and went right back to sleep.
What a couple of morons.
Hello, my name is sacrif ishalam
I've played a lot of characters over the years, but one of my favorites was a dwarf fighter named Berrik Towerfall.
Berrik was a burly, bald, ill tempered war veteran, who loved nothing more than a good fight and a flagon on ale.
His brother (Garrick Towerfall) was played by my friend Josh. The Towerfall brothers hail from Geurdom (Ge-urn-dom)
which is exactly what it sounds like, a named we invented on the spot when asked by our Dungeon Master where we came from. The Towerfall brothers went through some serious stuff while they were alive.
But this story is about the character I made after Berrik died...the first time.
Berrik has died twice, both are tales for another time.
The first time I lost Berrik, I was super upset.
The group had decided to retrieve Berrik back, from Hell itself!
And I made a character specifically for the task.
He was a able to heal others, conjure illusions, deal damage, and he was expendable.
I didn't want to get overly attached to a temporary character, seeing as I wanted my Dwarf back, and I named my new Human Cleric, Sacrif Ishalam...which is pronounced the way it is spelled.
And boy did he live up to the name. Shortly after joining the party, we encountered a Beholder!
Beholders are a nightmare in physical form, Giant floating sphere shaped creatures, with multiple eye stalks branching off its body, all of which possess a different magical power. The Beholder was out of its element, injured, and by no means one of the more dangerous among its race, and still the battle was only a half victory, we were all near death, and one of our group was turned into solid gold statue (Beholders usual turn you to stone, but we thought gold was a funnier, more fitting alternative due to that characters main trait being how rich he was)
Sacrif Ishalam managed to survive...and was promptly killed moments later while leaving the building, when a nearby wall collapsed to reveal two man sized centipedes.
It was not a pretty death.
Oh, Krud.
Currently, I play Dungeons & Dragons two times a week. On Wednesday, My friend Pete is our Dungeon Master.
Pete has many joys in life, but his passion for the written word can make the rest look dull to the casual observer. On Wednesday, our campaign is decorated with flavorful descriptions of our surroundings, rich detail and backstory attached to any characters we meet, and gruesomely poetic verbal displays of how our enemies (And sometimes companions) are mutilated before our eyes.
On Saturday however, I take up the role of Dungeon Master & attempt to supply the same majesty Pete brings to the table.
Pete plays a character during our Saturday campaign, named Brother Midas. Brother Midas is...questionable, at best. When we first started playing on Saturdays, Pete had another character named Krud.
Krud has an extensive backstory, The character is truly developed, and was the most lovable half orc you could imagine. Krud took it upon himself to place the safety of the party into his own hands, always looking out for the others (Most of all, the two halflings in the group) and trying to lead by example.
We played for ages without a lineup change, the party was strong, well organized, and doing well...until the accident. The party was in a dungeon for WEEKS, Multiple four to five hour sessions in the same dangerous, dimly lit, booby trapped, confusing lair of death. The dungeon was not particularly difficult to complete, but there was a locked door of white gold, and sapphire that required four hidden keys to enter, and there was no way in hell they were leaving without getting that door open. After endless encounters with violent monsters, confusing puzzles, and annoying treasure goblins, the party managed to unlock the door. The players left the dungeon full of gold and treasure, but not of joy. The dungeon exit was blocked by a fearsome Chimera! A three headed monstrosity, hellbent on destroying any creature so daring as to set foot before it. The Chimera was eventually defeated, As well as Krud, who layed there dying, unable to be saved from deaths embrace. After a final goodbye, the party left the dungeon with heavy hearts, and small mementos they had taken from Kruds person to remember him by.
The team decided, they would do whatever it takes to bring Krud back (Which can often be possible in the world of Dungeons & Dragons) And shortly after, the players were fortunate enough to meet someone with the power to grant that exact wish.
At this point, I should remind you that Krud is a Paladin, and has strong beliefs regarding the dead staying dead!
With that in mind, the group decided to bring him back anyway.
Not only that, but they decided to use his tooth (Which one person took as a keepsake) opposed to his body, which was about a fifteen minute walk away. This meant that Kruds soul would be reforged into whatever the universe saw fit, and that was a Hill Dwarf.
The now, Hill Dwarf Krud, was unconscious for about three days in his new body.
When the time came that he finally woke up, after panicking toward the fact he should still be dead, he realized something was different, and found a mirror.
That was the first, and only time he has ever uttered the phrase "Oh, Krud."
Son Of A Lich!
I'm a sucker for a pun, good or bad. No Lich's sons were harmed or involved in this tale...or were they?
I arrived late to the table this Wednesday.
Although it was not TOO late, my party managed to get us locked in mortal combat with a extremely dangerous, terrifying, intimidating, rotting yet immortal sorcerer.
You see, We recently found ourselves in a dungeon that was home to this particular pale nightmarish bitch from hell, and we may have killed a small boatload of her pet Owl bears she was using for experimentation.
We were spared our lives, on the condition we replace the creatures with new ones that still had a pulse. So naturally, we agreed and proceeded to go on our merry way with no intent of every actually holding our end of the bargain. It's not as though she would hunt us down personally over a few insignificant Owl bears right?...
...Boy did we mess that one up.
We were having such a lovely road trip, in our new four horse carriage (Straight from the dealership)
next thing you know, our seven foot tall barbarian is a pile of ash, our halfling bard is out cold, The kid we travel with (Story for another time) looks good as dead, and the two of us still standing had seen better days.
All in all, I'd say things worked out alright.