Recently a friend started a new campaign. This was his first stint at being a DM, but that is not really the point of this story. Our characters started in a town that was being besieged, and they had to infiltrate the enemy camp to liberate food supplies the bad guys had intercepted. Our path to the enemy camp was through the castle dungeons and sewers (of course).
I happened to be playing a Goliath Paladin (5e) named Gmike the Goliath (the "G" is silent). One of the other players rolled up a Drow Warlock. I am lawful good, while the Drow is lawful evil. Although not entirely pleased with having evil in the party, my character…Read more
Jakk'tril the Elf was an atheist. It wasn't that he didn't believe that gods like Pelor or Corellon didn't exist—just that he didn't care to pray and he didn't think that they cared either way. So it seemed odd when the rest of the party was praying all the time. The Cleric made sense—she was a Cleric, praying is what they do. But one Rogue kept offering sacrifices to Olidammara and later/more frequently to Vecna. The other Rogue kept praying to some chaotic god whose name Jakk'tril never bothered to remember. Our Sorcerer was even whispering prayers to Pelor (though in retrospect, every time he spoke Pelor's name, he coughed in a…Read more
Our party had never had much luck with the adventuring gig. The simplest of encounters would often result in death-by-minions and embarrassing retreats back to town for a spot of resurrection (we had an open tab with the local religious order). Our DM was becoming more and more frustrated that we couldn't navigate the easiest of dungeons. In fairness this was usually due to poor dice rolls, bad decision making, and infighting over the loot. He therefore decided to end our sorry existence and perform the killing stroke—the TPK.
The DM set us off on a quest to rid the local townsfolk of a troublesome coven of blood-sucking vampires.…Read more
After a little over half a year of adventuring in the Demi-Plane of Dread, our party successfully defeated a love-crazed sorceress and escaped the clutches of Ravenloft. Vowing to never return, we found ourselves with some downtime before our next adventure. To celebrate, I offered to step behind the DM screen for the first time in a casual one-shot adventure. The plan was to test the ingenuity of my party members by giving them puzzles to solve with little to no combat (while also playing on character greed through a smattering of illusions and lies to lure characters into traps).
As I prepared the encounter I realized I had a…Read more
While anyone who knows the Dwarf Fargrim Stoneborn are well accustomed to his two-handed hammer Jawbreaker, very few know the story of the paired throwing axes which hang from his belt. This is the story of how he acquired them.
Our story takes place a month before Fargrim Stoneborn’s 74th birthday and a day before Redifest (similar to but legally different from Christmas). Fargrim was passing through the small Halfling town of Evermead while on his way to the capital of Rovnol. Evermead was, funnily enough, renown across Erahlor for its fine pineapple mead and as such, provided Fargrim with a very comfortable rest point. It was…Read more