The Fairwealde Campaign

Ell's Diary

Theatre D&D

Dear Diary,

Today I fought that wraith thing I made a pact with. Totally fucked it up. Whatev. No big deal. He sent out some wraith minion bitches. Guess what I did? Magic missile. BAM. Dead. That’s what’s up. He tried to overpower me with some of his shadow magic. Guess whose shadow magic was stronger? That’s right. This guy. Also, yeah, I know a bunch of shadow magic now. ‘Cause I’m undead. S’pretty cool. Gorilla or something killed me. Nothing I can’t handle. Raven Queen helped out a bit. She seems pretty chill. Technically Lo-Kag got the kill, but you know, I totally helped out a bunch. Also something with spirits and turtles or some shit. I found out there are more things that go with my stone and eyestalk. Sweet! There’s some dice or something. Sounds pretty boss. Can’t wait to get back to Jorvan. But the killing stuff with magic was the best part. Later.

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Hired Hands
Who Needs to Know Who's Hiring You Anyhow?

Theatre D&D

Almost as if on cue, a man strode into the tavern, nearly slipping on the bleeding entrails the bear had left on the floorboards. He wore a deep blue cloak, held together by a silver brooch bearing the symbol of the city. His eyes were strained, and he had the appearance of a man who would much rather be in a much cleaner den of pleasures.

“Who’s looking for work?” he barked. He casually pulled his cloak from his side, revealing the longsword he wore on his hip.

“What’s it pay?” said the purple cloaked wizard, who by now had introduced himself as Ell. He approached the man in blue alongside Igor and Lo-kag, the Goliath.

“See for yourself,” said the man, and he handed the three of them each a scroll. Each one also bore on it the seal of the city.

“I will offer my services,” said the thin man. “I am Eratium, Invoker of—”

“Have at it Horatio,” said the man, and he chucked a scroll at him.

“Eratium,” he said.

“Whatever,” said Ell.

“Um, excuse me,” said the young woman with breasts and the bear. “My name is Thea, and I’m looking for work.”

“Any specialities?” asked the man with a sneer. Simus the bear growled, and the man shook out of his sleasiness. He handed Thea the last of the scrolls and then strode right back out of the tavern, hopping over pieces of bear refuse.

“What’s yours say? I can’t read that good.” Lo-Kag handed his scroll over to Igor. “Same as mine, big guy,” he said with a smile.

Horatio said, “If that’s true, then I believe all of ours are the same. We are to go to a warehouse on the outskirts of a city and intercept an illegal shipment of some kind of good. If we are all agreeing to work together, I suggest that we all go to the City Hall and learn more about this job while we still have time.”

“Or we could do the better idea and just go there now,” said Ell. He paid for his tab and started walking towards the door.

“The wizard’s got a point, Horatio,” said Igor. “Fortune favors the bold, or so they say. Coming Lo-Kag?” Lo-Kag, who by now was wrestling with Simus the bear, nodded his head, bucked Simus easily off of his shoulders, and walked out with Igor.

“C’mon Simus!” Thea cheered happily. “We’re going to make tons of cool friends, and I bet they’ll respect the two of us as fellow adventurers!”

Outside, Lo-Kag asked, “Do you think boobs and the bear will come?”

“Don’t see why not,” answered Igor. “We’ll probably need all the hands we can get. Although the bear is a little much.”

“I heard that,” said Ell. They walked together into the city of Jorvan, with Simus, Thea, and a whimpering Horatio on their tails.

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Of the Meeting of the First Party
Half-Orc Bartending Sucks

Theatre D&D Campaign

The filthy half-orc bartender slung a filthier pint of mead in Igor’s face.

“Drink up Horner!” he snarled, and turned to his other barflies. A few who heard the name “Horner” turned their eyes to see Igor standing at the bar. His thick traveling robes were coated with a fine dust, but only a fool would have thought him another beggar. One didn’t have to listen hard to hear the clinking chainmail beneath his clothes, or look hard to see the filthy, rusty spear strapped to his back. A shield and battleaxe were also strapped to his body, unhidden from public eye. Igor knew this drew attention, but he didn’t care.

He wanted attention.

He spat into the concotion with disgust.

“What was that?” the bartender said, looking angrily at Igor. But even as he did his anger quailed and his eyes fell on something behind Igor. An enormous shadow covered the tiefling, and he felt his horns grow cool. A stony hand touched his shoulder.

“Excuse me?” said a booming, low voice.

“What?” Igor said harshly, his hand dropping to the axe at his side. His fingers faltered before they reached the handle.

Standing above him was a massive figure with skin like stone. Muscles like boulders rippled out from underneath a thin hide armor, and a massive greataxe swung loosely from it’s hip. The stony man leaned down, and Igor saw his eyes were wide and hungry.

“Excuse me,” he said, “But are you gonna drink that?”

“Uhhh…no,” said Igor, and the minute he did the giant was scarfing down the whole pint.

“I’ll have one,” called a frazzled voice from behind Igor. A small man in purple robes hopped up onto a barstool and dropped a few coins onto the bar. “Two please!” He turned and flashed a crazy smile at Igor. “Are they any good?” he asked.

“What’ll you have?” the bartender asked a strange, weak looking man in a golden brown robe. His face was thin, but he smiled and said, “Nothing for me. I’m starving myself for my belief in a god.”

“Sounds stupid to me,” Igor called out to him, and the giant and crazy eyes chuckled. An instant bond was made between the three of them.

“Please!” The thin man’s eyes grew firm. “Do not insult the heavens!”

“Why? They’re insulting me.” The purple cloaked man was witty.

“You can’t prove that!” the thin man shrilled.

“Don’t need to,” and he buried his beard in his mug.

Just then a roar and a scream came from the entrance. “Oh! Sorry! Bad Simus!” A large bear had torn one of the barflies in half and was drinking his blood. A young woman with an irresistible urge to lift up her arms and expose herself kept apologizing to the screaming customers.

“I’m soooo sorry! He’s not usually like this!” She begged with them, often clumsily bumping her khopesh into them, which for some reason had no scabbard to protect it.

“Hey! No beast companions!” shouted the bartender, but the great bear Simus roared out over his voice.

“This is gonna be good,” said the little man, and a purple light flashed in his eyes. “Think there’ll be blood?”

“Think there’ll be urine?” said the giant.

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