'Critical Fail'

I don’t have a great or grandiose tale to spin for you. Don’t let me offer you an impression that I’m some noble and gleaming knight, or a ‘hero’ in any sense. No, when I speak, I speak mostly for the needy mercenaries or the nameless sell-swords out there. You know the type;  sword-arms with more bravery than wit, with eyes for gold and hearts of fire. The ones with shallow graves and barely mourned for a moment.

I often sit up on those icy, blasted and grisly nights just wondering how any reasonable person can thrust themselves into a profession of such frequent violence and obvious danger. They say that the future successes of our kind lies in our first outing; you either come out running and scared for your life, dead or worse, or scarred. Scarred so deep that normal society just isn’t normal anymore. I think it’s a kind of madness, a fissure that runs in the mind. Though in the defense of the questing and wandering kind, adventurers backgrounds are often as colourful or bleak as the individual themselves; those who act out of necessity and survival often fare the best. Those who act out of pride, greed or tradition generally end up in small boxes. Motives effect the blade in strange ways. Thankfully, I use a hammer, and my blows have generally struck true. Though I originally set out under the monetary banner, I have since deserted. I now know better, though we all get an opportunity to be foolish once. Let me explain.

Read More

Androven Servitus. In a previous time, was the typical human youngster. He was raised by family and friends in the mass of anonymous rooms tied to the heart of the city.  Not only did the family not have enough spare to send Androven to any kind of formal education, it was not in keeping with family tradition. The Serviti were a working family. From the time Androven could work a tool effectively he sold his labour in the city. He often settled down in comfortable tradesman work for several months, then moving on to the next opportunity that presented itself. Skilled enough to maintain a wage but the sense of excitement and pride had all but been lost, and all too soon.

Androven, in his young adult years began to feel disenchanted with his regular work; the mundaneness of routine had almost killed his very humanity. His friends often sought to console him, assuring him the tradition of his ways; unconvinced he turned to the advice of another aide.

Read More

“Aye, so scribe, m’laddie; just as we agreed now - write everything, every word, as I say it. Understood? Good. You’d better write fast lad, your wage started before we even got to the tavern, so pay attention. Ahem; Dear Commander-in-chief, In regards to your decision … Hold on, You there. Yes, you. The one with the big ol’ mouth with nothin’ t’ say. Shut yer noise hole or I’ll feed yer tongue to the dogs. You don’t think I could? Them’s fightin’ words, lad. I’ve had bolder challenges from my own great-grandmother! Yeah, I didn’t think so. Now, where were we lad?

Ah yes. In regards to my dishonorable discharge from the clan’s service; I heartily appeal that you take note of my appeal. I feel that the comments regarding my brief lack of discipline may have been warranted, but your final decision were a tad harsh, sir. It wasn’t entirely my fault - I did nay know his father was a leper and his mother a harlot. In-fact, I were doin’ ye a favor! Showing you his frailty and weakness I were. He shouldn’t have called out my honor in the manner he did. Now, I’m all for a bit of friendly banter, but he was completely beyond the line, and I for one, do not regret my actions. I quite enjoyed it actually, off the record. Not that I’m a sadist or anythin’, that bastard just had it coming - besides, our cleric healed him up in no time. Well, most of him, haha! Anyway, I hereby extend my apology to the ‘soldier’ and his family. Now, I know exile … Hold on.

‘Ello beautiful! Please take a seat, sweetness. Pleasure to see you again! What was that? Drinking games? Right now? You know I love a good drinkin’ game as much as the next dwarf - but I’m on business at the moment, love. Let me know when the next round is on. Am I wrestling later? You just point out the poor soul later on, haha. Yeah, see you later. Lovely girl that. A lot of fun, if you know what I mean.

As I were sayin’ - I know banishment ain’t considered lightly amongst our folk, but I swear on my given names and on my ancestors that I’ll redeem myself. Make it back up to you, our lads and the clan name or my name isn’t Ulfgar Ironfingers and you can swear on that! Be expecting me shortly with treasures, gold and a half-decent story to tell soon. Signed - Ulfgar Ironfingers. There, now read it all back to me lad. …

Oh, I see. Think you’re funny dont’cha? Real hilarious, aren’t ya?

Start writin’ up a new one; and this time, hold off the ale y’cheeky bastard. I could wring your … Hold on. Well laddie, you’d better hand me that parchment, it’ll have to do. Just spent my last coin.

Time to crack some skulls, eh?”

So, I suppose it’s come to this, eh? How’d someone the likes o’ me get to be doing something like this? I’d like to say it’s a long story; one filled with the likes of destiny and importance, but there’s no harm in being a bit humble now, is there?

I’m Jethro Coinflip, pleased to make your acquaintance, reader. Put simply, I’m a cleric of our smiling lady, the Goddess of Tymora and a full time practitioner of our trade. Now, generally, folk don’t just bestow this kind of position upon themselves, so I’ll explain how I were thrust into the midst of this clericdom and adventuring.

Read More

‘There was just this phenomenal sound; made not from man or beast - or anything that I’ve ever encountered before. Yes, this noise, then the passing screams of the fallen and then barren silence. That’s all I know.’

‘How do you know that they’re dead?’

‘I’ve been trapped down here for some time, and I haven’t seen a soul or heard a survivor. I just have this feeling, this sense of looming negative energy, this death. I feel it all around in this place.’

‘We’ve no intention of dying, lady. How’d you escape?’

‘Our foreman set a tight and strict schedule. We advanced through the burial much faster than we ought. We weren’t nearly careful enough. Things are always deeper than first glance, such is the way of the world. We eventually came to our fith or so day of excavation, I was preparing rituals as the rest of the team proceeded. The final worker probably didn’t even see it coming. Poor sods. When I arrived, I was halted by a large dark barrier; and then the noise began. There was nothing I could do to help. I felt so… helpless.’

‘Don’t worry, we’ll try our best to find out what happened. You should stick with us, we might have better luck. How are you with that sword?’

‘What, this?’ She prodded absently at a sheathed curved blade resting at her waist. ‘I haven’t used it recently, it’s mostly for show. I do alright with it though; druidic training.’ Felfdi smirked as she tapped the side of her nose.

A soft metallic sound sang behind them, and the gate eased open with minor objection. About half-way to being true open, the mechanism ceased and groaned to silence and stillness.

‘Well, we’re in, but I didn’t promise any miracles.’ Smiled Shade.

Brave-Axe held out a protective arm. ‘Marching orders. Me and Ox here will go first with the rogues; make sure everything is safe. I know we’re new, but lets try to at-least look a little professional here.’

The team was in agreement. The volunteer front-line men dropped their excess baggage and cautiously dipped into the unknown beyond.

‘Ooh, aren’t dungeons exciting?’ Sparks jiddered, offering small talk amidst the plans.

‘No.’ replied Felfdi. ‘No they are not.’

…

The team faced a corridor which appeared to be almost unnaturally dark and most peculiar. Either the sunrods were beginning to lose their charge, or other forces were at work. The team took a turn and were met by an ancient thick wooden descending gate decorated by heavy stone - thus interrupting their progress. Swine and his fellow roguish companion comforted the team however, assuring that this pesky gate would be open in no time.

‘Hello?’

‘Who goes there?!’

The alien voice startled the team.

Footsteps echoed around the corridor; and a shadowed figure approached the light.

‘Thank the gods, oh, thank the gods you came. I didn’t think I was going to survive down here much longer.’ Another step brought the female into view, her hand protecting her eyes from the piercing light descended. A young elf, so it appeared. Pretty and dainty, but clearly in need of aid, as such would anyone in this situation. A large eagle perched over her shoulder protectively; it seemed like it would be rather heavy, but the assumed druid did not notice.

‘And, who are you?’

‘Please, don’t hurt me, I mean you no harm! My name is Felfdi. I was one of the druids who was sent of oversee the excavation, what a mistake. Something went wrong, I don’t know what. I haven’t seen anyone for days, or whats felt like days. I think they might be all dead! They’ve returned to the earth, almost ironic when you think of it. Can you help me?’

‘Slow down, you’re going a mile a minute! Catch your breath. Here.’ Ox shared his share of provisions with the elf.

‘Looks like we’re taking a break then.’ shrugged Swine, as he rested non-chalantly on the walls of the crypt. As the team gathered round to deal with their new situation.

Panning our attention back to the adventurers seeking forth in the darkness hidden beneath the bustling city of Waterdeep; our war-band had decided to act on their decision to begin the downward spiral. The bottom of the vast underground styled tower rolled out before the adventurers, light seeking and passing on walls that had not found light for quite some time. A blank doorway presented an item most peculiar. (Beyond the unexplainable continual sound of flowing water, that is.)

The light cast an orange reflection originating from the centre of the room, upon a modest pedestal. The team moved into the room suspiciously; things had been going a little too smoothly for real comfort given the scenery. ‘Perhaps this is the item that we sought?’ - Towli automatically began to report what information and translation he could decipher and perceive from the vaults decor.

’ “It has taken much blood to place this here upon the stone. It shall require much blood to pry it from its grasp. Be warned.” The item not actually a wand as first thought, but some kind of extravagant magical bronzed rod - I’d have to study it further, hands on, but I think it has something to do with the sound of this water. Call it a hunch.’

‘I’m in agreement. Details of its craft and magical intent elude me; sorry I can’t be of more help.’ uttered Sparks.

‘That’s a pretty bold warning, don’t you think? We’ve got other options. Maybe we should finish exploring and return for the rod, who knows what’s round the corner? This isn’t worth dying for.’

‘The only thing round the corner is more darkness and stone. Oh come now, what’s the worst that could possibly happen? We’re the only living things to walk this path for centuries. We’re probably the most intimidating force down here. Grow a spine, boy.’ grunted Ox.

‘Caution would help you retire one day, Barbarian.’

‘It’s not in our nature.’

‘We should go,’ part of the group was in agreement.

A brief inspection of the coveted item and its hold concluded in the theorycraft that the only way to obtain the treasure would be to give it a firm hard yank from whence it came.

‘Come on Ox, I’m sure there’s something around here for you to maim.’ Offered Swine as they began to ascend.

‘You’d be so lucky.’ he muttered.

(Hello everyone, hope you are enjoying the story unfold so far! I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you for reading and following, I know sometimes it can appear a little TL;DR. If there’s anything you’d like to see on the blog, submissions, reviews, promotions; please feel free to get in touch! Now, back to business…)

As our brave group of young adventurers explore the depths of Waterdeep, our individuals of interest continue their thus-far uneventful journey across the waves to future solace, or so they hope.

Brenna was seated in a deep gaze fixed on the horizon, the gentle sea breeze brushed her long and wild brunette hair. The sun hung in the sky like a-

-‘Are you okay? Not goin’ t’ be seasick, are ya’?’ poked a passerby.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ she coughed. But all was not well in the world of Brenna, heavy thoughts left untold weighed upon her shoulders and darkened her reality. Needing a new view, she decided to explore the decks of the Siren, yet again. Anything to just pass the time.

Luminu, the resident elven druid, observed a corner of the mess hall bustling with the unmistakable sounds and sights of commerce. Piquing her interests, she gracefully made her way across the hall of refuge and through the swathes of punters. A rather loud, middle-aged and dirty looking, leather-clad human took centre stage and charismatically held impromptu auctions and passing compliments and jest to potential customers. His technique appeared well practiced, a true salesman.

Luminu spotted a crate on the far side; a simple wooden box filled with packing straw but laced with the only greenery on show; a number of green leaves and colourful herbs lined the crate.

‘Hail!’ - Luminu vowed for attention. The noise of the excitable crowd dulled her efforts.

‘HAIL!’ she repeated with conviction. The trader turned as the crowd hushed. Few cross a druid.

‘Hoi, Lass. How can I be of service?’ a missing-teeth lined grin followed a unsubtle visual scan of the fine elf maiden before him. Shuddering, she disregarded the visual assault and continued;

‘Could you show me that box over there?’ she pointed.

‘Yes, yes I could.’ Awkward moments passed. ‘Haha, just kidding, I’ll just get that for you.’ The man excitedly gathered the box and presented it proudly in his arms.

‘Ah yes, this! Only the finest quality herbs and green-like available on this forsaken vessel. A cure-all if I do say so myself. I wouldn’t be without them! These, here, are the ingredients to a special and secret salve taught to me long ago, in an age past. It’s what’s been keeping me looking my best, heh. Just mix with water, it’s so simple, anyone can make it. I guarantee! Would you care for a demonstration? No, no. I can tell you’re well versed with nature, there’s no need. This entire crate could belong to you for the give-away price of 30 gold pieces of gold. But today, I’m willing to offer you a special price. For you, Just 20. Well, just because I quite like you, lady. This is a one time offer you simply can’t afford to say no to!’ He concluded, with smiles.

‘Quite the pitch, eh?’

…

Ox promptly resumed being vertical, a wry look passed upon his face revealing a spiked toothy smile as he batted off the dust of many years past. Small, covered chuckles echoed and bounced around the passage descending down into further darkness.

A brief walk revealed a wider hall, again showing little decorative grandeur considering the occupation and prestige of the crypts occupier. The generous light of the sun rods shone out, showing paths beyond two aged blanketed entrances. A brief moment of solitude was approved by the sound of running water, yet no water was present in the entirety of the hall. 

“Choices!” Luth hissed.

A brief and uneventful check behind the folds of the fetid wall coverings displayed two paths. One, a set of spiralling stairs descending down, further into the depths. The structure was almost reminiscent of an underground tower; the steps formed from carved stone and appearing in good condition, posing no troubles beyond vertigo. The rumbling sounds of Waterdeep now just providing cavern-like atmosphere under the earth.

Secondly, a passageway. The work in the passageway appeared more rushed and rough rather than minimalistic in this instance, evidence of fresh tool-marks also lined the walls.

A brief discussion lead to a quick decision. The adventurers had sought excitement, a test and danger and thus far, that want hadn’t been satisfied.

“Going down!”

…

Another apology. I just wanted to say a little heart-warmed thank you to any continuing follower who has put up with this extended pause, I promise I will return and jump on it and soon. Thank you for reading. May Tymora bless your rolls!

A small darkened room welcomed the adventurers. Glistening spider webs and years of decay decorated the otherwise unremarkable room. The room appeared sealed with no method of further passage. The walls were lined with rough plaster and a broken mosaic. With a light step and keen eyes the pair of rouges declared the area safe, and a degree of peace descended on the wary explorers.

Upon closer inspection; the mosaic displayed many epic battles and the many heroic deeds of the hero of the dwarven fable; the ‘Orc-Slayer’. The mosaic was beyond its best days, but with a touch of care it could have been described as magnificent. On an adjacent wall, the art showed a different story; three separate rooms and three symbols. A gray shield, a purple circle, and an orange staff. A more solemn depiction of the Orc-Slayer, laying eyes-closed, weapons crossing his chest (and surrounded by the many corpses of his enemies), was also on the tiles.

Surrounding the purple symbol, a shadow in the wall the shape of a door appeared in reaction to the proximity of the Sun-rods. Ox resorting to simple deductions immediately utilised his tremendous strength and began to force the stone to move. As for the rest of the team, they had began to look for an alternate method of entry. Amidst their efforts, Sparks the plucky gnomish sorcerer, spotted a peculiar hole amongst the decorations.

With caution he placed a peice of wooden debris into the space and teased the area gently. The team jumped at the shocking sound of rusty gears and crushing timber. The stone door swung open abruptly. Ox fell forward during a heroic push, landing in a heap on the floor of the new passage.

‘Looks like we’re in, lads.’ commented Brave-Axe, as he batted the rising dust.

…

‘… Is he coming with you?’ inquired a highly puzzled Lady Velnor, gesturing to a new figure who appeared in the darkness. The group turned to face the mysterious man. An armored swordsman wielding two delicate blades stood motionless, his face obscured by a humble straw hat. He bowed and muttered a incomprehensible utterance before joining the back of the venturing party.

‘What’s your name friend?’ laughed Brave-Axe.

‘He said it wasn’t important, and he’d be joining us for the rest of the journey.’ replied Towli, the swordsman grunted in approval. ‘Although, I don’t think we have to worry about trusting him, haha!’ Towli laughed, amused by the slightly cryptic nature of his statement. The pair descended down into the darkness and continued to quietly converse in a unfamiliar tongue between themselves, content with their new and unlikely friendship.

The rest of the team shrugged between themselves. “When in Waterdeep.”

After a brief spell on an old, rough and rickety ladder a brief a pitch black wall of darkness greeted some of our heroes. Others saw a plain, empty and long corridor reaching beyond their vision.

‘Might need to use some sun-rods.’ stated Brave-Axe, in a fairly unnecessary comment. With a satisfying crack the sun-rod activated, the effect was quite novel. It appeared that the holder wielded the very sunlight itself. The rod casted daylight across the yellowed stone abyss of the crypt. There didn’t appear to be any immediate danger, but still the hearty warriors led the way cautiously.

Their hands found a natural attraction to the hilts of their blades.

A stone arch greeted them.

…

The waves caressed the large transport ship coined ‘The Siren.’ The vessel had been christened so by the curvaceous maiden figurehead attached to the front of the ship, welcoming the seas with a warm curiosity and armed with her trusted sword to ward off any forces who may seek to change the fortune of all who journey with her.

The day had been fair, a gentle easterly breeze urged the boat and its guests towards their destination. The crew and the voyagers said for a new and distant land, some for gold, others for fame. Some journeys may be for far more humble reason; a simple want of a better life. The continent they had turned their back to was strife with the evils of war, crime, poverty and famine.

This gentle journey had been seen through the eyes of those who occupy the vast, but highly crowded hall of the Siren’s ‘guest’ accommodation area. The ship’s innards had been occupied by the families and individuals who entertained the idea of travel.

Great lines of fresh wood in the form of elongated benches span from one wall of the ship to the other. Families and their children, artisan craftsman and their loyal apprentices and people from all other walks of life discuss and play heartily in the mid-afternoon brightness, all speaking in high spirits. Even the typically morose and dull guards appeared to be in good spirits, finally not taking a sour tone to being the butt of many-a-joke.

Garrosh, a good man, and a good orcish warrior, was welcomed with smiles of many. He returned a good gesture as he gingerly passed by, trying desperately not to irritate any with his uniquely spiked leather armor. He slowly made his way to the great stairs that revealed the deck and the clear blue. With a smiling sigh, he was quite ready to enjoy the peace of his own company, he would never admit to his newly founded friends that he sought solitude and and some solid land.

Luminu, a graceful elvish druid in training, sat to one side and petted her doting wolf cub companion. Her mediation was irritatingly disturbed by a noise gaining in strength. Standing she attempted to observe the interruption.

…

‘Naturally.’ the Noblewoman replied, and gestured towards her magician friend. The mysterious shaded figure produced a small and intricate dark wooden box. A small click of his fingers and a mischievous grin and the box opened to revealed a rolled up scroll.

‘Hmpf,’ spoke Sparks ‘That’s a nice trick. Learn that at the Arcane University, did you? You’re just a glorified scribe, eh?’

The magicians hand spread in reaction. Bright blue lashes of light and electricity flowed and weaved between his fingers, crackling viciously. The orc took the scroll gingerly from the wizard, ignoring the spell-casters brief lapse in judgement.

‘Everything is there, you’ll find. Read it or don’t, matters not to me. Sign at the bottom.’ and indeed the half-orc was correct. All the details were accounted for and in good etiquette.

Ox, bored of the social formalities with nobility and group politics, signed first. The rest of the group also signed, following the footsteps of the brave, or foolish barbarian. Swine pocketed the slip into the pockets of his garb as the magician summoned another copy.

‘One last thing, I think. What’s your name, noblewoman?’

‘Lady Velnor.’ she replied. ‘Good luck.’

The dwarf turned to the rusted iron wheel crank that shuddered the equally aged portcullis into life.

The only way was forward. The only way was down into the darkness and the unknown.

…

‘The worker spoke only briefly and then fled. I have not heard from him since.’ The lady continued. ‘I would like your group to enter this underground system, find out what you can about what happened to my men, and retrieve the key-stone if you are able to. Bring it back to me to receive the payment, and my due thanks. Understood?’
The group nodded.

‘Why don’t you just send your professionals down there? Shouldn’t been much problem for them, surely?’ inquired a curious Swine.
‘And leave myself free from protection?’ she laughed ‘I do not share the same liberties as you, Rogue. I’d prefer to keep my trusted company close, if you don’t mind. See this an opportunity to test yourselves, I presume this is your first venture?’ she commented as she looked at some of the more sheepish adventurers.
‘Yes, I suppose it is. Why?’ replied a confident Emlyn.
‘It’s just your gear, and your age. No matter. I wish you well on your journey to professionalism. Maybe this work could help you find your feet and to become more established in this world. Perhaps not.’ She said with a smile.

‘Could you tell us what we might find inside? How should we prepare?’
‘It’s an ancient dwarven burial of some kind, my leading archaeologist knew more than I do. That is, until he did not return. There is no natural light down in the tunnels; so if you have trouble seeing in the darkness - I would recommend some torches or something similar.  We were the first in, and the last out. Other than that, I do not know.’

The team turned and mingled with one another;
‘Well, you did ask for exciteme-‘
‘Seeing as we’re already here,’
’How about that caravan job, eh?’
‘I can see in the dark no pro-‘
‘Sun-rods? I’ve got some in my pack.’
‘I wonder if there are any symbols of Lloth down there!’
- The group nodded.

‘How about a contract?’ a turning Sparks called out.

…