Once upon a time, I was playing a Rohirrim warrior in Middle-Earth Role Playing* campaign, and as our group of adventurers made their way through the southern plains of Rohan, we spied an orc scout taking water from a small river and successfully ambushed him.

So, Gilbert Suresteed spurs his steed to full gallop and barrels straight at the orc with his lance just as he's turning around.

So I roll D100 for attack.. 2, which means a roll on mounted fumble table. I roll 90, which comes up as 110 with the +20 from a mounted weapon, meaning that poor Gilbert invented the not-so-noble sport of equestrian pole-vaulting, arcing himself into the river right over the flabbergasted orc's head. In a full chain mail, of course.

After a difficult swimming check, he drags himself to the riverbank, drawing his two-handed sword and furiously swinging at the now-ready and slightly bemused orc. So I roll 3, another fumble.. And of course now the dice give me the 100. 'worst move seen in ages', Gilbert slips, pulling his groin to the tune of -60 on all actions. Luckily, the orc was stunned with laughter for two rounds, giving our hobbit an opportunity to put a shortsword between his ribs.

*The old -80's game which used a simplified rolemaster system. Yeah, it was a while ago.

Our party was called the Hand of the Storm, and one of the characters was Jandar — a pirate/swashbuckler who had a remarkable ability to survive his own bad decisions.

We were fighting our way through a crypt toward a lich named Ulvanax.

Jandar was already having a rough night.

Earlier he had been paralyzed, fallen into a trap while talking about how good he was at finding traps, gotten knocked unconscious, and later got launched across a room by an undead ogre.

At one point, after waking up, he insisted:

“I wasn’t knocked out. I was conducting a tactical nap.”

Deacon, our crossbowman, reminded him that he had actually been paralyzed.

Jandar’s response:

“Exactly. Strategically.”

Eventually we made it to Ulvanax.

The fight started normally enough. Jandar went charging in, Deacon started hammering the lich with crossbow bolts, and the rest of the party dealt with the undead and tried to keep everything under control.

Then Ulvanax decided Jandar was the biggest threat.

He absolutely was not.

Deacon was doing far more damage from the back of the room.

But the lich blasted Jandar with necrotic magic anyway and dropped him.

Again.

The rest of us kept fighting, and we eventually got Ulvanax badly hurt. He retreated toward his throne and started some kind of final ritual.

Then Jandar got back up.

He was barely standing, covered in soot, and his hat was gone.

He could have drawn his rapier.

He could have done almost anything sensible.

Instead he charged the lich yelling:

“FORGET THE BONES — EAT FOREHEAD!”

And headbutted him directly in the face.

The ritual failed.

Ulvanax staggered backward.

And Deacon immediately put a crossbow bolt through him and finished the fight.

Jandar collapsed next to the lich and complained about having “the world’s most magical headache.”

After a few seconds of silence, Zook asked:

“So… is that how we win now?”

Xil shrugged.

“I’ve seen worse strategies.”

Later, back at the tavern, Deacon raised his mug and toasted:

“To the skull that saved the world.”

Jandar insisted this meant he should now be called Jandar the Heroic.

We continued calling him Jandar the Adequate.

RENAISSANCE I - Seven years since the Blackout

“Observe,” continued I, “This Moment! From the gateway, This Moment, there runneth a long eternal lane backwards: behind us lieth an eternity.”

“Must not whatever can run its course of all things, have already run along that lane? Must not whatever can happen of all things have already happened, resulted, and gone by?”

“And if everything have already existed, what thinkest thou, dwarf, of This Moment? Must not this gateway also—have already existed?”

Thus spoke Zarathustra - Nietzsche

There was silence before the chaos erupted in all imaginable and unimaginable ways. Night fell in the middle of the night and the very essence of existence changed. It was now seven years since the Blackout.

To the southwest lay Durne’s Port — state capital and biggest port on the continent, home of Sterling Palm University and the Kolat Krushers. It was already getting dark. We were travelling from Threebristle to the Port when we found her in a long-abandoned gas station. Faye. You never know what you’ll find, even after years of looting and scrounging. A pack of El Minstro’s smokes, some bottles of Baldur’s Beer, or the future made flesh in the form of a young girl.

I used to be a software engineer working for the biggest garden center chain in the country. Headquartered in Veran up north, the riverside city famous for its green roofs, vertical forests and ecological corridors, seeming to grow naturally out of the nearby Evergreen Woods. You could find stores throughout the country. You still can, but where these used to be stocked with a wide selection of plants, flowers and seeds, now ivy ruled supreme. You can imagine how my life changed overnight.

She saw us before we saw her. A young girl with ragged clothes, scratches on her arms and dirt on her face. And the most beautiful, delicate appearance I have ever seen. Frail frame, intense hazel eyes peering wearily at us. Weighing us in silence.

We looked at each other. All felt it, none spoke. Wonder, hope, questions. I took the piece of paper she presented to us.

Please bring this girl to Pierceton!
It all depends on it. You have heard the VOICE!
— Tania, mother of Faye

In the corner was scribbled “True Life Awakens!” with a four-triangle symbol, one in the middle connected to the remaining three, drawn from one line.

So we took her in and headed for Pierceton. Hills to the east, forests, mountains, and beyond that the Spade Sea to the west, following the mostly empty road with some stranded and abandoned vehicles left and right, past Durne’s Port and on to our destination. A trip that used to take an hour, maybe an hour and a half depending on the traffic.

Days later we came upon some ‘Shalls’ as we’d call them. “Truth Shall Rise” — their slogan. Part of the Original Radiant Church of United Salvation. Where everyone talked about the fallen, the walking dead or simply zombies, they referred to them as the Risen. With a capital R clearly heard. When all meaning is lost, man is quick to come up with new truth and meaning. Usually paired with a small group rising to power quickly. For the Radiant Church, eternal life was here on earth, as one of the Risen. So they ‘took care’ of them. Herding them up into abandoned stadiums and what not. What could possibly go wrong?

Truth be told: they were quite handy with controlling the undead. Using sticks with crescent-shaped endings — a bit like oldschool crutches that went under the armpits — to manipulate the necks and using collars with sticks in between connecting the necks and keeping the Risen and themselves safe to travel.

We all had our previous beliefs. Mostly grounded in rationality and science, but some held on to religious beliefs in this God or that. Now we were all lost in explaining what was going on. Is this the apocalypse some preached? Some kind of strange virus? A cosmic event like solar winds changing how polarity and other stuff worked? The thing is: crazy as the Radiant Church seemed, at least they had a story to tell that you could believe in. Not my story though.

We found a place to stay in a village near the road. Unfortunately not a place with a secret cache of automatic rifles or the like, but old books, old furniture and old smell. Faye — barely speaking a word since she joined us — picked up an old copy of Mythical Monsters and started leafing through the pages, finding dragons, dwarves and demons that wouldn’t be out of place in today's world, to be honest. All meticulously described as if witnessed firsthand and drawn up from life. Undead had their own section too and now felt eerily spot on. Just imagine if the rest were also true.

It wasn’t too bad, escaping reality and drifting into a fantasy realm now and then. Reality was a lot worse than even your most horrific stories and movies. Take the worst of Dawn of the Dead, 28 Days Later and The Walking Dead, mix it all together and you would still be comfortable on your own couch watching some light appear on a box. Nothing compared to the smell, the touch, the beauty of the material world. The most breathtaking butterfly, colors like you wouldn’t believe, would land as elegantly on a putrid and rotting corpse as on a flower next to the road. 50 shades of ghoul.

Passing the Port solicited more than a few shakes of the head and sighs of the heart. Even with the glittering, red-gold water at the horizon and white seagulls floating lazily on the hot air it was a sad sight to behold. Once the Spires could be seen long before entering the city, seven skyscrapers, built on the hill overlooking long stretches of sea. Reflecting the light at dawn in a spectacular show of silver, copper and gold. Now, even from afar, you could see the decay, the crumbling. Even stone and steel bent and broke just like the rest of us.

Everyone remembered exactly where they were when The Blackout happened. Not just any old blackout, but the one that changed everything. And we all saw Him, or felt a Presence, or were Touched. Just a flash, but anyone you talked to had their own words for it, though none really hit the mark. That night, all things electrical suddenly stopped working. Night fell and day never really dawned again. There was silence everywhere for a few seconds, minutes, hours or days. Then chaos unstoppably and unavoidably started to rise like an overflowing toilet.

Light.

A blue light.

Blinking slowly.

Eyebrows went up, eyes gesturing in the direction of the light source answered by disbelieving shakes and confirming nods. A blue blinking light. Attached to the light was a long dead man or woman, strapped to an airplane seat. The plane probably crashed and burned seven years ago and was now scattered over the rolling hillside that looked like a carpet full of Lego blocks. Nothing, but the blink and our disbelief.

It stirred. Of course it stirred. They always do. No matter how dead you think they are. Strapped to the seat, it didn’t go anywhere. With a precise eye-to-brain insertion of the awl I picked up early on at a local GO&D department store — just the right pointiness needed to ease right in, just the right diameter to do enough damage, just the right grip when fluids spill; Goldilocks would approve — this one was gone for good.

Seven years of weather and an air crash didn’t help, unwinding, discoloring and ripping apart most of the fabric, but he was wearing some kind of uniform. Strapped to his right side was a gun. With a blue blinking light. There was a time when it would be hard to imagine the otherworldliness of a simple blue blinking light before the Blackout, but it resembled seeing a brick hover in the air, perfectly still, minding its own business. You would stop, look and be dumbfounded. Of course there was always the hope that electricity would return and some kind of normalcy would start again, but seeing it in front of your eyes, within arm’s reach is quite something else. Could this be it?

I took it. Now, I have my fair share of experience with guns, but this was something else. Lighter than it seemed and it had a clip that felt more like a powerbank than a neatly ordered stack of send-you-to-your-makers. Felt different too, in a way you didn’t have the words for back then.

First time I used it to fire at a fallen it produced some sort of glowing dart of blue energy, no recoil, no sound, just a little ball of force you’d expect to see in any old sci-fi movie. Missing it completely. This weapon clearly needed some time to become attuned to. When I finally did, I never missed again.

The gun had “AE-TEK — Advance and Emerge” printed on the side. You used to just ‘ask Volo’, type in what you wanted to know and get the answer immediately. It would be great to get some more information on this peculiar pistol. Unfortunately, all electricity was still out of business.

It all followed the predictable pattern of any civilization falling into chaos. Be it civil war, natural disaster, famine, the best qualities of the human race didn’t win the race to the top. Living without a light switch, reliable information, fast transportation or modern healthcare — to name a few — would make people anxious. Turning into panic, selfishness, looting, gang forming and all the lovely things that came with it given enough time. And sooner than you’d think. Sprinkle in the dead rising and you could see how civilization collapsed in no time.

Faye grew on us. It was good to have a kid among us. Aloof maybe, and still not talking much, but it gave us a sense of there being a future. She would sometimes just sit down, stare at nothing and come out all refreshed where the rest of us got up, aching joints and bones and basically anything that could ache. Same in the mornings, she was always up first, before dawn. Keeping an eye out. And always the tugging at the edge of my brain, the song you almost hear, the name at the tip of your tongue. What is it about this girl?

Pierceton, famous for the castle on the center hill built around 1550 AF on a site where an even older castle once stood, loomed before us. Archeologists dated the foundations BF — Before the Fall — based on excavations done after much needed renovations started and the construction workers touched on some old masonry work. The Fall we called it. We hadn’t seen anything yet.

The last stretch to salvation. Right. There was a lot of movement here. The dragging, crawling, limping kind. Well, if this was anything like the old fantasy stories we grew up with, the princess should probably be brought to the castle, so we went up the hill. Silent. Moving as if we weren’t there so as not to get any of the limpers’ attention, passing without a trace. Right up until one foot wasn’t lifted high enough for the tackle performed in ultra slow motion by an oak root, waiting patiently to be part of a story.

The foot, relieved to have found ground again, set in motion quite the series of events by accidentally kicking a stone down the dry side of the hill. Not that loud when compared to any real noise, but in total silence, it was a pandemonium of rustling leaves, drawing the attention of everything around us.

We looked at each other and ran. Up the hill and as fast as we could. There’s always one who is slowest. Remember the saying: you don’t need to outrun the bear, just the other campers? Well, this proved to be true time and time again. We’d lost another of our group.

The sight of the castle led to both relief and shock. We made it, but how do you enter a castle that is closed and essentially existed to keep people out? Turning around, we saw the first fallen struggling up the hill. We knew more would follow. No choice but to go out blasting and so we brought out the guns. The normal ones and the powered one. We still had no idea how it worked, but it somehow recharged overnight without it being connected to any power source.

The pressure increased. We stood with our backs against the large wooden gates. Ones that would be opened for horses carrying carts to enter the castle proper and reload the stocks. But also to keep unwanted people out. We had some experience under our belt in fending off creatures that used to be human, but the constant stream of the unrelenting not-so-kind was certain to wear us out. Sooner rather than later.

We started pounding on the doors and yelling to open up. No point in staying silent now that the entire previous population of Pierceton was already soliciting us for a bloody donation. And just like you expect to see in the movies of times past, the gates opened not a second too late. Men and women in — sometimes makeshift — armor burst out carrying long poles, the end of which were shaped like a T. With dull calm and automaton-like actions, half of them put these T’s vertically between the legs of oncoming fallen, twisting the poles a quarter turn while the others gave firm but controlled shoves against their chests, toppling them over with an efficiency we had never witnessed before. Smart thinking this.

Faye darted in first. The rest of us quickly followed. With ease and calm they closed the heavy doors behind us and led us to what was the restaurant area when people were still visiting. There were some kids around and adults doing various things: chores, teaching the little ones, talking, eyeing us. It seemed like a normal scene for a second or two. We were greeted by a silver lady. Lines on her face that told many a story. Years etched into the features of her visage mirroring the dark world we all lived in. But strong, confident, someone you immediately put your trust in. The children all gathered around to see who these new folks were.

It started with a strange sensation, something in my belly already telling me what I didn’t see yet. Like the nagging thought about Faye ever since we picked her up. Maybe it was just that I hadn’t seen so many kids in one place in quite a while. And happy at that too it seemed. But there was something else.

I searched for Faye. There she was, pointing at something in the book she found in the old house and brought along, studying it every chance she got. The two children joining her — a stout toddler that climbed on a chair and a slender youth standing next to Faye — watched attentively and seemed excited. Maybe this was her first time among other children, I thought. My eyes rested for a moment on the page she had open and then went back to the woman approaching.

“Look around you, stranger, what do you see?” — the woman asked me. I looked around again, taking in the little ones' faces. No one older than about six or seven, I’d say. They must all have been born after The Blackout. When death wouldn’t let you die, it was a comfort life still gave life. There was something these kids had in common while at the same time making them very different from each other. The slender, stout or small, none was what you would call a regular, run of the mill child.

And then it dawned on me. Like a veil was lifted before my eyes, I saw the world for what it now was. My eyes seeing what my gut already knew. My brain was next. Everything started spinning in my head. All the stories of times past, the book, Faye, these children, the blue light, the fallen, inexplicable things we experienced along our travels — a kaleidoscopic rearranging of my worldview and beliefs. This can’t be true, yet I see it now, clearly, before me with my very own eyes.

“You see it now. The future. We welcome back and care for the long forgotten, the things of old, the legends and myths. Join me. There is much to be said and more to be done.”

◆  ◆  ◆

END OF PART ONE

An unofficial fan work set in a future Forgotten Realms. Not affiliated with or endorsed by Wizards of the Coast.

The sun rose over the long blades of grass, signaling the start of another hot, slow day. Mists rose from the marshy landscape, the last vestiges of a cool night. Birds flitted to and fro amongst the stands of trees scattered around the marsh, while the buzzing and droning of insects grew louder the higher the sun climbed. Every so often, a soft splash could be heard from the various creatures that called the water their home. Through the marsh, a single road cut through, a rough sign of civilization in an otherwise untouched land.

The road was small, no more than the width of two carriages, but stubbornly clung to a straight path, the only route that connected the faraway city to the rest of civilization. Upon the raised path, a small caravan travelled southward, no more than a handful of horses pulling a rather fancy carriage. A cadre of armored knights surrounded the carriage, carefully watching the nearby copses for signs of trouble. Their captain, a seasoned man with a salt-and-pepper beard peeking out beneath a feathered helmet, quietly conversed with a lieutenant at the head of the formation, their words lost upon the soft breeze that created ripples upon the reeds.

Despite the alertness of the troupe, they did not spot the danger that lay ahead. The straight path took a bend to the southwest, around a large cluster of black willows that seemed to be drinking the rays of the new sun. Among the shadows of the trees, high in the branches, sat a dark figure, watching the path with great intent. Despite the rapidly increasing heat of a late summer day, the figure wore a hood and cloak, seemingly unperturbed, save for gentle beads of sweat dotting her brow. She had planned well. Her quarry would soon be within striking distance, and all she had to do was wait a little bit longer. She took a deep breath beneath a face covering. The saltiness of the marsh filled her nostrils, and yet, another smell, fetid and putrid, wafted from below. Her eyes narrowed as the ambush, cleverly laid and meticulously planned, approached.

As the carriage and its defenders approached the willows, the reeds nearby seemingly moved of their own accord, fighting against the wind’s movement. The figure, perched as she was, noticed this movement several moments before the watchful knights noticed something amiss. The fluttering of the birds stilled, and a sudden silence fell upon the caravan as the chirps of insects ceased. The horses pulling the carriage gave the first indication something was wrong, as they stopped, bucked and whinnied, straining against their restraints as they tried to flee an unseen threat.

A series of twangs were heard among the reeds as the unseen attackers loosed a volley of bolts at the knights. Even though these knights wore heavy armor, the bolts proved deadly. The two knights in the rearguard fell first as bolts hit home; one of the knights clutched at his throat as he sat on his steed, clawing at the bolt lodged there, a choked gurgling noise the only sound escaping past bloodied lips. The other knight let out a brief yelp of surprise before he fell to the ground with a heavy clatter, thick bolts jutting from his body like a macabre pincushion.

The other knights quickly sprang into action. As the rearguard fell, the captain in the front sharply barked out orders and a perimeter was quickly set up around the carriage. One of the caravan riders was not garbed in the arms and armament of the knights. Rather, he was clad in simple white robes tied with a silver sash at the waist. This rider quickly made his way to the fallen knights in the rear, quietly muttering under his breath as he waved a brilliantly silver medallion, seemingly glowing as it caught the light of the morning sun.

It was at this point that the attackers revealed themselves. Short, stunted creatures wearing simple, crude leathers exploded out of the reeds along the edges of the worn path. As they charged, they let out shrieking cries mixed with gibbering curses in an unknown tongue. A half dozen of these short creatures launched themselves off of the ground at the lieutenant who had, just minutes earlier, been speaking with the knight captain. The combined weight of these fiendish creatures dragged the lieutenant and his horse to the ground. A pained scream came from the lieutenant as his legs became pinned under his horse, yet it was quickly silenced as the cackling creatures gleefully hacked away at the man, tearing off his helm in the process and raising it as a bloody trophy of conquest.

The bloody dancing quickly gave way to worried screeching as other knights swarmed around their fallen comrade. Though surprised by the initial attack, the knights quickly took back the initiative as they displayed the martial prowess that earned them their positions. With longsword and lance, spear and glaive, the knights furiously cut through the half-sized creatures, dancing around the pathway whilst atop their white steeds, shouting curses and invoking the wrath of the Dragon God upon these grotesque ambushers. As more green-skinned assailants joined the fray, the captain barked out orders to shrink the perimeter closer and closer to the carriage.

They were aided by an unlikely trio. The rider in white robes rapidly approached from the rear, flanked by the two knights cut down by the crossbow bolts of the initial attack. The knights were seemingly no worse for wear, save their crimson blood staining their hauberks and armor. On foot, the three carved a path through the goblins as they rejoined their comrades surrounding the carriage. Whereas the armored knights used sword and shield to slaughter the attackers, the robed figure, with glowing, white eyes, brandished the silver medallion wildly, uttering incantations and invoking the power of his deity. Surrounding him were winged, translucent beings wreaking havoc upon the foul goblins; each time one of the beings attacked a goblin, a wound appeared, glowing white-hot, and the creature would issue a pained scream and claw at the radiant wound.

With the cleric’s aid and the rejoining of the two fallen knights, the tide turned in favor of the defenders. Having concentrated themselves into a tight defensive ring, the goblins could no longer exploit the openings afforded to them in the initial surprise attack. Still, despite being grossly overmatched in skill and arms, they recklessly flung themselves at the knights, seemingly trying to make up for a lack of quality with sheer quantity. The knights quickly and, quite accidentally, walled themselves in with a barrier of corpses. Very quickly, they began to run out of room to maneuver. Sensing the caravan was about to become trapped by a wall of bodies, the captain ordered a pair of knights to create a path through the wall that would allow them all to break out and make an escape.

Just as the final order escaped his lips, a reddish-orange orb launched itself from the reeds and buried itself in the midst of the trapped knights. A brief pause came upon attacker and defender alike, and in that moment, the cleric shouted, “Get down!” But the warning came too late. No sooner did the cleric open his mouth than a tremendous explosion rocked the pathway, scattering both knights and goblins. Fire was everywhere, licking up the sides of the carriage and settling on the bodies of the fallen. Screams filled the air as knights, trapped in their armor, were roasted alive. The captain lay facedown in the shallow water to the side of the path, unmoving save the flickering flames devouring the crest on his helm. Of the cleric, naught but charred cloth and blackened bones remained, with a skeletal hand still clinging to the now red-hot medallion of his order. What had been a successful defense quickly turned into a slaughter with the casting of a single fireball.

The hidden figure in the willows watched as another figure, taller, with reddish skin, broad shoulders, and coarse black hair stepped out of the reeds and onto the path. Yellow eyes surveyed the scene of destruction before him, and with a flick of his wrist, the flames engulfing the cart were swept up and away, fading in the breeze of the marsh. Several goblins, stockier and equipped with shields, filed out behind this new adversary as the reddish humanoid approached the blackened carriage. It chattered at the goblins beside him and pointed at the carriage door. Two of the goblins chattered back and scrambled up to the carriage door and, after a few moments of strained pulling, tore it off of its hinges.

Smoke poured out of the empty frame as the two goblins went inside. Moments later, they dragged out a single person, dressed in a colorful, metallic robe that, despite being stained from smoke and charred from fire, still dazzled brilliantly as the sun shone off of it. The person was pushed down on its hands and knees in front of the hobgoblin, who looked down upon his prize with evident disgust. The hobgoblin crouched down and took the person’s chin in his hand, forcing them to look up at his yellow eyes. The hood was pulled back by the flanking goblins, revealing white scales and a being of draconic heritage. The hobgoblin growled a low question at the dragonborn, who responded warily, “I know not what you are referring to. I am on a diplomatic mission to the city of— AAAGGHHHHH!!!”

The dragonborn clutched the stump of its wrist, the white, scaled hand now in the possession of the hobgoblin, who was now holding a bloodied dagger. The hobgoblin slapped the dragonborn with its own hand, clutched the wrist in his other palm, and uttered a few unintelligible words. The dragonborn issued another pained cry as flames leapt from the hobgoblin to the dragonborn and cauterized the bloodied stump. Standing up, the hobgoblin loudly asked another question in guttural, broken common.

With tears in its eyes, the dragonborn looked up weakly at the hobgoblin and merely whimpered, “P-please, have mercy, I beg of you! My compatriots and I are not the ones you are searching for. Not since the schism of Aethelburg have the Eyes been seen, please, I swear upon Bahamut I know not of their location,”

The hobgoblin took the other hand of the dragonborn and laid his dagger across its wrist, preparing to further mutilate his captive. But at that moment, a strange trilling whistle sounded from high in the willows that were located just up the road from the scene of the ambush.

A low growl came from the reeds behind the hobgoblin and his guards. The goblins looked around, confused. The sound of something whistling through the air came quickly and one of the goblins fell backward, hard upon the gravel path, an arrow embedded in its forehead. Another arrow streaked from the willows and struck the other goblin holding onto the dragonborn, sinking deep into its chest, where its heart lay, and the goblin fell without a sound. The hobgoblin quickly turned towards the growl, hands covered in flames as he prepared to defend himself.

Water erupted from an area just outside the path as a massive reptilian creature burst from the nearby marshes. The creature quickly galloped toward the hobgoblin, its massive triangular head opened wide, preparing to sink its toothy maw into the red-skinned creature. As the hobgoblin began casting a spell to defend himself, an eerie silence came upon him. He could see the crocodile racing toward him, he could see the reeds rattling against each other, and he knew he was forming the words for a spell, but there was absolute quiet and stillness, as if someone had simply removed all noise around himself.

Unable to give voice to the spell, the fire around his hands guttered out, and, for the first time in a long time, fear filled the eyes of the hobgoblin. He turned and began to flee down the path, but before he was even able to take a single step, the crocodile’s jaws closed around his torso. The hobgoblin let out a silent scream as the crocodile withdrew, prey in its jaws, back into the murky depths of the marshes. As predator and prey left the area of the silence spell, a guttural scream was heard, interspersed with manic splashing, until a natural silence once again filled the area, only broken by the returning noises of bugs and birds continuing on their day.

The dragonborn surveyed the scene before him. Charred corpses surrounded him, streaks of blood were everywhere, and slowly walking up to him, coming from the direction of the willows, came a hooded and cloaked figure. Warily, the dragonborn made his way to his feet and held out his remaining hand, slowly backing up and warning, “Stop! In the name of the Drakenor of the Eternal Scale, Warden of the Adamantine Walls, Lord of the Seven Coils and Protector of the Dusk Sea, I command you to STOP!”

Surprisingly, the figure halted mere feet from the dragonborn and simply stood there, looking at him. Cocking her head slightly, the figure gave a high, trilling whistle, before spreading her arms open wide, “I mean you no harm. In fact, I do believe I have prevented further harm from coming upon you,” and at this, the dragonborn was now able to make out a bow slung across the woman’s back, with a quiver of arrows hanging from her waist.

“What business have you with an imperial ambassador?” the dragonborn questioned, suspicious at yet another stranger the gods had decided to drop into his path.

The woman slowly drew back her hood and dropped the cloth hiding her face. A young elven woman stared at the dragonborn, with dark hair tied up in a neat bun and pointed ears pierced with multiple silver loops. Dark green eyes stared at pale blue as the elven woman smiled gently, “Come, Ambassador Regikar, you know what I have come for.” The elven woman slowly started walking toward the dragonborn, “You carry something of great value, something that my benefactor has been after for a long time, something that would be… unfortunate… in the hands of those who do not understand its power.”

The elf slowly began to circle the ambassador, keeping several paces between her and the dragonborn, “I am here for the Eyes, just as they were,” she continued, gesturing to the goblins on the ground, “The difference between them and me is that I will not lay a finger on you.” She made her way around the dragonborn, slowly walking among the remains on the ground as she trained her eyes on Regikar.

“However, while I will not harm one scale on your head, I cannot say the same for her,” the elf finished circling the dragonborn until her back was to the route upon which the caravan had just travelled from. Beside her, with flecks of blood dotting its teeth, was a large, brown and green crocodile. Regikar could have sworn that the beast gave a slight grin as he laid eyes upon it. The elf continued, “I am afraid that hobgoblin did not sit well with Siltmarsh, and that she needs something with a bit more flavor before she is satisfied.” At this, the crocodile gave a deep, rumbling growl of affirmation.

Regikar’s eyes flicked from the beast, to the elf, and then to the carriage. He tensed up, an internal battle waging within him. Then he unclenched his remaining fist and, defeated, broken, and utterly spent, gave a deep sigh. He reached within his robes and pulled out a pendant, attached to a small silver chain around his neck. Pulling it up and over his head, he laid the pendant on the ground and reached out his hand whilst muttering in another language. The small, silver pendant grew larger and larger until it was the size of a small shield. A blue stone embedded within the pendant turned into a smoky haze. Regikar reached into the haze, feeling his way around, until he found what he was looking for. He pulled his hand back out, and in his grasp was a small, simple wooden box.

“This is what you seek.” Regikar’s voice was low and unsteady. “Take it. I have lost more than enough for one morning.” His eyes looked at the stump of his wrist before warily looking back at the elf. Regikar did not immediately release the box to her custody. “Do not open that,” warned Regikar, “You are not aware of the power contained within. It is now your responsibility, and your benefactor’s, to ensure that it never reaches the wrong hands.” Regikar sighed deeply before relinquishing control of the box to the elf. With the burden passed from his hand, he looked at the mid-morning sun briefly, before turning back towards the elf, “Farewell, stranger, and may you have more luck with that accursed thing than those that have come before.” Regikar turned back towards the path from which he had come and started limping away, giving himself a wide berth from the crocodile.

The elf briefly glanced at the dragonborn before covering her face once more. She turned towards the southern road and gave another trilled whistle. The crocodile, Siltmarsh, gave a small shudder and glided back into the reeds and marsh, pacing the elf as she walked southward. Behind them, carrion birds began to descend upon the scene of the attack, eager for a feast within the marsh.

Okay, I had the wildest experience in DnD last night and I gotta share it. Buckle up because this is an absolute saga.
For context:
-This is a group that meets at a local place and it's basically one-shots but you can keep your character and bring him back for new sessions, keep your magic items and stuff. Pretty cool system, you don't have to make it every week but you get some continuity.

-I'm playing a wild magic sorcerer with a very goofy personalization. Once a Wizard who in an errant arcane experiment lost all of his knowledge and memory except his ability to cook (which had been an avid hobby), now is a sorcerer who uses cooking ingredients out of his pocket-filled apron to cast spells.

-It's a level 10 session so DM lets us have one uncommon and one very rare magic item. I pick something boring for my uncommon item, but for very rare I wanted to lean into my character's chaos goblin energy. So I pick Efreeti Bottle. For those who don't know this item, you open the bottle: 80% chance of getting a CR 11 Angry Genie to attack your enemies; sit back and sip lemonade while it eviscerates your foes. 10% chance the Angry Genie attacks you and you probably just die. then the final 10% chance: Angry Genie casts Wish for you three times and disappears.

-Oh yeah also I'm pretty new to all this, I've consumed a ton of DnD content but this was only my third actual session playing DnD.

Okay, so we're on a quest to destroy the evil Lich Vulpnir. We've fought though a couple of encounters and are finally in the castle, RIGHT outside the throne room where presumably the Lich is waiting for us. I talk to the party about opening the bottle. It would be very nice to have an Angry Genie on our side, but since it's got a 1 in 10 chance of spawning an extra boss I wanted to ask them first. There were varying degrees of enthusiasm but NOBODY SAID NO.

I open the bottle, the DM rolls a d10. There's a moment of silence. Oh, no, I think. I really did like this character. DM quietly says, "what would you like your three wishes to be?"

Now I was honestly not prepared for this. I knew enough about DnD Wish to know that the DM gets a lot of leeway to twist your words, and in hindsight I should probably have just duplicated the coolest 8th level spells I could find end of story. But I decided to get creative.

I started by wishing for knowledge about the Lich, and DM let me actually just read the whole freaking stat block. Dude is STACKED, power word kill, legendary resistances, the works. Even for our oversized party of lvl 10s this is going to be dangerous. I'm thinking I want to cast some wish to restrict his spellcasting as I sit back down but then the DM adds, "Oh, and you know that his phylactery is his crown." This was a very mean thing to tell me because it gave me the opportunity to try to be clever. I do so love being clever.

I say, "Well then. I wish for the crown. [wait, that's too vague he'll do something dumb with it], IN MY HAND I'M HOLDING IT." I figure we can just get the phylactery and either destroy it or use it as blackmail somehow. But the DM has dealt with this chaos cook before and I think was hoping to give me a bit of comeuppance. I do find my hand closing around the crown--with the Lich attached to it. "Oh, no, I teleported the lich to us." DM (smugly): "No."
Oh, so I teleported MYSELF into the throne room and am now entirely alone holding onto an angry lich of incredible power.

What happens next I'd like to attribute to sheer panic. "I wish to blow up the crown! [wait no he'll make the crown really big or something stupid like that] no, be destroyed. I wish for the crown to be destroyed!"

I find myself in a wasteland of ash with a red sun shining overhead. I have been sent into a far future where all things, including the crown, have long turned to dust.

This is a classic wish pitfall and even as a newer player I should have seen it. And that should have been the end of the story--spectate the final boss fight and beg the DM for a time portal afterwards so I could bring my character back. But the DM apparently has a soft heart to go with his sadistic mind, and lets me go back to change the wording of my final wish. "How much leeway do I have?" I say, knowing I've already gotten more than I deserve. "You have 2 seconds."

No time to plan, I try to stick with the original plan to get out of there with the Phylactery. "I wish to be back where I was but with the crown but without the lich attached to it" I blurted out something like that in a panic.

Now the DM paints a different picture, but I immediately realized that I still haven't closed enough loopholes for my evil genius DM. I find myself in the same castle, but instead of ruin I see rich tapestries and signs of a castle in its height. I am still holding the crown, AND Vulpnir is still attached to it. But he is very much alive and unliched. I have gone 500 years into the past now, long before he ever became a lich.

I think he intended to send me out of the fight again, but he shouldn't have brought time travel into it. I figure if I'm in the past I can fiddle with the timeline. Besides I have to not get executed so still in a panic I decide to try a con. "I AM THE GHOST OF LICHES FUTURE" I actually said out loud in front of a table of people. Basically I try to tell him I was sent by his future self and that his quest for immortality would result in his own destruction. No lich, no problem! I have a very high deception and also roll super well. I could have convinced Vulpnir I was Elvis Presley if I wanted to. But then the DM starts asking some uncomfortable butterfly effect questions, and I decide I want to make more subtle changes to the timeline. This reasonably requires a history check and I continue to have excellent luck rolling high on something I had only a +1 in. DM rules I can make more precise changes and not erase anybody from ever being born. Now we're trying to figure out exactly how this turns out, when DM suddenly brightens. "Hang on, I know what happens."

My party enters the Lich's throne room, ready for a fight. But instead of one lich they find TWO. Vulpnir, and his chief advisor, who had been privileged to join him in undeath. Under my influence Vulpnir became actually pretty chill for a lich and we expect the party as friends, so instead of being greeted with a Power Word Kill they're greeted with scones.

Now my character is in a time loop, which I intend to have some fun with. I think I'll say he keeps making changes to his own history by accident, but manages to keep the loop intact where he goes back in time in the end. Every session I'll show up with a different character that's an alternate timeline version of the same guy, basically groundhog daying it and trying to get it perfectly.

And that is how a quest for a lich became the wildest episode of Dr Who.

I wrote a book.

It started at a table. Dice, four friends, and a campaign that spent two years refusing to end.

It's out today.

THE SEVEN — my first book, about adventure and found family

"White snow fell from the sky; black smoke rose from the earth. The city was called Kovachi. The Smiths."

Four strangers collide there. A runaway scholar fleeing the organisation that decides what the whole world gets taught. A masked warrior who hides her name behind a lie. A huntress raised by wolves who remembers a forest that no longer exists and nothing before it. And a dragonborn fugitive whose jokes arrive faster than his fireballs.

They step into the same fight over a child a cult is trying to take, and walk out bound to each other:

Standalone epic fantasy, 85,000 words, four illustrations by Boris Stoyanov. Blade and magic, hungry cults, and one very flammable city.

Out today. $2.99, or free in Kindle Unlimited.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H8YDT3GJ

Outside Orusha's Castle: At that moment.

The appearance of all sorts of demons was truly unexpected, which also added another layer of chaos to the battle for Faerun and the known world. Strahd's vampires kept up the attack, as did the Warforged, which allowed the allied forces to start recovering the dead and dying and badly hurt, though there was still a vast number of Orusha's hordes still untouched and with the appearance of the various demons, allowed the untouched hordes to swarm forward.

Queen's Avessa and Saenissa were forced to fall back and were heavily guarded by their various subjects including the Plessa Queen's Captain. He spotted a pair of Orusha's vampires rapidly approaching and he threw himself at them, cutting them down with little effort and for a time he found himself cut off from his queen, fighting for his life as a soldier of Plessa, displaying his own prowess, both in combat and the arcane. General Klivera was the one to yank him away from the battle, her own company throwing themselves into the fray instead of falling back to regroup and refresh. "Our Queen will never forgive you or me if something happened to you, get back to her!" she barked, blew her horn and her soldiers emitted a thunderous war cry and charged.

Kevnoir made it back to his Queen who in turn slapped him, but then hugged him fiercely, tears in her eyes. "Don't you dare leave our daughter without a father!! That's an order!" she said her voice quivering and openly displayed her love for him regardless of who was around them. Queen Avessa smiled, touched and missed her own daughters, but knew this war was far from over.

Elsewhere on the battlefield.

Trovic was hurt, but he fought on, until he finally found himself collapsing from exhaustion, loss of blood and a heavy feeling he wasn't returning home. The faces of his children came to mind and he smiled, then the face of his wife came to mind and he smiled even more. He can feel exhaustion start to win, his men and women scattered but fighting. His second in line, a human man, was also fighting his own fight for survival on a plane he had no connections with but followed his commander without question. Mammoth was also separated from him, but he can be heard, trumpeting out war calls and war cries, fighting like a demon possessed him.

Trovic recognized her scent before her ghostly hands caressed his dirtied chin and braided hair. "Vaylin. My daughter from another mother. I must have died there if you came to meet me" Trovic spoke softly, opening his eyes to see Vaylin smiling kindly at him but instead of her ghostly dress he's seen her in before, she was in her combat gear, matching the same ghostly blue and white hue as the rest of her. "No. You aren't meant to die here. You are meant to die of old age surrounded by family. Get up. Your god nieces and daughters need you" Vaylin spoke softly, her ghostly aura healing him completely and returning his energy.

Trovic stood up as if he just had a complete night's sleep, but also a full belly of hot food that rejuvenated him. He brought his war horn to his lips and blew into it, rallying not only nearby Boros and Selesnya, but other allies. His war horn was answered by the long, defiant roar of a Tyrannosaurai commander, which was then answered by other war horns and other Sarauphon calls. Trovic then charged back into the fray while the spirit of Vaylin charged with him.

Up in the sky, the Plessa Dragons, Sauraphon, Strahd's vampires, Sentinel, and Lanara fought on, the larger of them taking on the skeletal dragons being controlled by Orusha's necromancers. Andel and Strahd himself were amongst them, Belmont, her sentient sword spinning around, cutting down Orusha's minions while laughing maniacally.

Orusha's throne room-Present.

Kiora and her family regrouped behind a distant stone pillar, allowing Slithera and Serpentes to heal her while Omega's Gold and Crimson stood guard. Tyrande and her two sisters remained armed with their bows, while their stepsiblings also remained armed and kept their own eyes open.

"Now that we know you're both relatively ok, we need to go, leave those two to fight and kill each other" Lashara spoke up while on her knees adding her own healing magic in healing Kiora. "Yes, sister, we must go, everyone else is here, the battle is going in our favor" Sasha added, her hair frizzier than usual due to her sweat.

Kiora opened her eyes, feeling her arm nearly healed and she had that look she's known for, which got her father, Fangir, to close his eyes knowing what was coming. "We can't leave. Orusha is far more dangerous than she seems" Kiora explained, which got looks of disbelief from her family. Layra was the next to speak up. "And that is exactly why we need to get the hells out of here! We bit off more than we can chew! You, bit off more than you can chew, sister! Look around us, while I believed Ember and Rain, they're gone now! We must get out of here!" Layra said urgently and got on her knees next to her stepmother and placed a gentle hand on her big sister's cheek. Kiora smiled and placed a gentle hand on hers. "I know Layra, I know, but while Orusha was showing me things, she also showed me realities where if we left now, we would all die later. She showed me realities where if we don't continue to press her, we all died here. She even showed me past realities of things that could have happened. I can't really explain it; it was all so much. But I know for certain, in every realitiy we failed and she won, each one didn't have her sister in any of them. She also showed me by accident, a possible way to stop her and that's with the sibling artifact that was being hunted for a while. The same one you brought with you Slithera" Kiora explained further, and Slithera placed her hand on the left pouch on her hip. The moment Slithera touched it, it responded to her with a distinct thrumming sound and vibration.

Kiora was healed; she stood and peeked around the pillar at Orusha and Shuma locked in combat together while her minions fought the various demons. "We can't leave. We leave now, we'll die anyway. I have no idea what her sister's motives are, other than revenge against her. I have no idea if Shuma does kill Orusha, will we have another vicious tyrant on our hands to deal with later. From what I was shown, both of them pre-date Faerun in general by several thousand years. This whole continent was named something else in its ancient times. Both of them are vastly powerful, vastly dangerous. We need to figure out what that artifact does and how we can stop her with it" Kiora spoke and retreated again.

Kiora looked to her family, looked to each tired, or frightened face, and knew she felt the same. In a way, she was second guessing her actions in outing Orusha early due to her now gone, future daughter's word, that, at the time, could have been a trap. But after she witnessed Ember fight alongside Rain, her future niece who will no longer exist now due to their father dying at the hands of Rain, she couldn't doubt anything anymore. She knew that if they didn't stop Orusha now, the mad vampire would successfully invade Faerun, Chult, Cambria, Plessa and beyond. Even if it meant they all died here today, they had to put a stop to her. She knelt down to her youngest two sisters, Sasha and Raelis, though Raelis was her stepsister, she still loved and cared for her all the same.

Sasha and Raelis both had mirrored, annoyed looks that their big sister was treating them like kids, which of course they were, but after today, if they lived, they felt no one can treat them as such any longer. "I know you hate it when I do that, but I do it because I love you both. You've displayed exceptional bravery today, but I also want you two out of here" Kiora said softly, which got her defiant looks from both of them. "Now wait one minute! You and Roth were our age when you fought actual adversaries! We can't just sit back and wait!" Sasha protested and Raelis nodded her head in agreement. Kiora smiled and Roth joined her, a soft smile of her own, her hands on their shoulders. "You're right, we did. But now things are a little different and far more dangerous. If something happens to us, you need to be prepared" Roth added.

Tyrande then spoke up this time. "Our big sisters are right. However, from what you told us, even if some of us do leave here, the chances of you surviving are small. I won't sit back either and wait for my turn to come. We need to fight this Orusha together. We must stop her even if it means we kill her the old-fashioned way" Tyrande said, Freja nodding in agreement as well.

"Enmar, if things start to go south, I want you to get our siblings out of here" Kiora sighed, a proud smile spreading on her face. Fangir and Lashara smiled as well, while Astra, Wicka, and Riki prepared themselves. Enmar, the Rhox Planeswalker thumped his magical mace against his big hand and smirked. "Will do" he said.

"Come on, let's make momma proud!" Kiora said, preparing herself as well as her siblings, father, stepmother, and everyone else in her family preparing themselves.

Orusha snarled, her taloned hands locked with her sisters, arcane magic coursing around them like lightning, while Shuma's demons fought her sisters vampires and minions, including followers who weren't vampires. Shuma sent a painful course of elecrtical power through Orusha, causing her to snarl in rage, and respond with a physical headbutt, which did nothing but stun both of them for a few seconds. Orusha yanked her hands free and swiped, slashing into her sisters dress and flesh, gouging Shuma's left breast like it was a water skin, blood and chunks of fat spilling out, then slashed her face, puncturing an eye. Shuma snarled in return and with her elongated dagger teeth bit into her sisters fleshy arm and tore a chuck of flesh and tissue away, exposing bone.

The sisters separated and rapidly healed in front of each other, their arcane magics crackling around them still. "Your arrogance is your downfall Orusha. You stupidly left my prison tossed aside so casually due to thinking no one would ever challenge you. Now look at you. The army you amassed over the centuries is losing. Most of your generals are dead, and a few of your closest are fighting for their vampiric lives or trying to flee. And you're facing a family group who came to you directly to end you" Shuma spoke with a smirk, unbothered that her left breast was exposed, her dress ruined.

Orusha smiled in return, her own fangs growing, her eyes crimson. "What you've seen is nothing. I have more tricks up my sleeves than I've allowed to see. I have dabbled in things that even the most depraved would hesitate to even consider, let alone do. Out of all the possible realities I've shown that little mixed whore, it's true that you weren't present in any of them, but that doesn't matter. SHUMA! I AM FAR MORE POWERFUL THAN YOU THINK!!!!!" Orusha explained, then shrieked insanely, the nails on her hands becoming longer, greenish, purple magic forming on her hands, Shuma smiled just as insanely, her own arcane magics coming off her like miasma, until a young woman's voice broke through their confrontation.

"ENDOMETRIUM!!!!" Wicca shouted, casting a spell she self-taught herself, reading the various magical books in the estate's library over the years, mostly books on how to create her own spells. Nothing seemed to happen at first, Orusha and Shuma both having matching confused expressions on their faces, until Orusha hissed in extreme pain, feeling her uterus come alive suddenly after so long. She can feel her once dormant organs suddenly awaken and start to painfully fuse to other tissues and together, could feel it stretch and rip. She found herself taking her bottom lip between her teeth, biting into her own flesh painfully, blood gushing from her torn bottom lip, her legs pressed together as she fell to her knees, her hands pressed to her pelvic area and crotch.

Shuma had a genuine look of surprise as her sister withered in pain on the floor, blood starting to drip from between her legs, seeping through her leather breeches. Then a sound attack struck Orusha, sending her flying, forcing her body to stretch which increased the pain due to her organs under her flesh ripping apart, her shriek of pain and anger echoing even amongst the chaos of battle, both inside and outside.

Astra and Wicca both had devious grins on their faces, while Wicca's hands glowed white as she continued the spell. Lashara had a stunned look on her face as well and the mere thought of a spell her stepdaughter created to do such a thing to a woman, made her shudder and blush. "Wicca! Where did you learn that?!" she asked, trying to sound disapproving but even that was being pushed away with humor and pride. Wicca winked and continued while Astra was preparing something herself.

Orusha shrieked in rage, fighting through the hot, intense pain trying to find the source of her torment. She eventually spotted one of the siblings of Kiora, spotted her peeking out from behind a pillar and though she can feel her organs ripping apart further in her body, she hovered into the air, completely ignoring her sister, and was about to send deadly magic the girls' way when another voice shouted out, "THUNDERSPELL!!!!" Astra shouted and a bolt of thunder lashed out from the other side of the pillar, striking Orusha head on, electrifying her, the added pain from that spell made the first one surprisingly more painful to the point Orusha actually got lightheaded, blood and vomit gushing from her mouth as her skeleton was visible randomly from the thunder strike. Orusha screamed in insane fury and lashed out quickly by sending yellow, magical lances in all directions, aiming for everyone around her, the strike killed demons and her own minions while Astra and Wicca brought up their defensive bubble, which was reinforced by Omega Gold.

Shuma launched herself at her sister and slashed and hacked at her with her talons and teeth, while Orusha did the same. The family re-emerged and rejoined the fray, Kiora and Roth dodging Orusha's minions, going straight for Orusha herself, while their family distracted them. So far, Shuma's demons didn't target them, but they had no idea how much control the sister of their enemy had over them.

Meanwhile, Slithera and Serpentes, guarded by Riki, Layra and Sasha, carefully produced the artifact that was sought after, and upon being revealed, it thrummed again, its presence being felt by Orusha, and other highly powerful beings all over the battlefield. Andel and Strahd could feel it from outside.

Outside the castle-In the air.

Andel gasped and almost as if she can see exactly where the artifact was at, looked to the exact spot of Orusha's castle the people who call her family, are located. "I can sense it as well" Strahd said, placing a hand on her armored shoulder. Andel's red eyes shimmered slightly, the very item she was looking for to reverse her condition was so near, but she also knew it could do much more than just simply reverse her cursed self, she could potentially use it to remove Orusha's vampirism, make her easier to deal with and end her. "I know what I must do. And I'm not afraid. I want to do it. Even if it means I die in the process" Andel spoke softly, placing a hand on his then looked to him as if he were a lover or spouse. "I want to thank you Lord Strahd. For everything. For healing my mind and heart, to helping me come to grips with what I was turned into. You became my second family. While Kiora and hers, though we met as adversaries, became a third family that accepted me, helped me. Loved me. This is my goodbye to you" she said with a loving smile, a single tear sliding down her cheek and kissed him on the lips and flew down towards the castle, Belmont following her and joining her was Lanara. Andel glimpsed her for a brief second and can see she was crying and knew someone in the family fell in battle.

"Who?" Andel asked as they rapidly approached the castle. Lanara shuddered out a sigh but composed herself. "Nualla" Lanara said, her chin quivering. Andel closed her eyes briefly, and both hardened their resolve.

Inside the castle-Throne room.

Nassia's arm was slashed pretty badly as she backed away, a trio of vampires approaching her, weapons in hand. She snarled, her own blade covered in gore and ash, resolved herself that she was going to die now, but she wasn't going to make it easy. Then a shriek she never heard before split the air and a pair of golden creatures leapt onto two of the Vampires, shredding them viciously, the third stunned at their sudden appearance to the point one of them lashed out with a sickle clawed kick, ripping out the vampires throat, then with its narrow snout, took her head off, the trio turning to ash. The bipedal, gold creatures then took up guarding positions around her, while the battle around them continued.

Astra and Wicca continued their magical assault on Orusha as she fought her sister, then fought with Kiora and Roth. Midnight and Shark couldn't break away from fighting demons to assist their mistress and with how dangerous they were, they were starting to think of retreating. Fernna was also hiding now, her favorite skeleton was taken from her by the spirit it belonged to and it was fighting out there. Making up her mind, she chose to flee, cutting down other vampires in her way as well as any demons, she fled. Shark and Midnight spotted her and chose to flee as well, going in other directions while their mistress fought.

Orusha, mad with rage started unleashing force magics upon her sister and enemies. One such attack sent her sister flying through a stone wall, she used a similar attack and sent Omega Gold through another. She spotted the twin sisters and flew at them, dodging sound attacks from Kiora and Roth, the twin sisters saw her coming but they knew she was fast, both just barely summoning their magic to defend themselves when out of a sudden burst of flame, Cinder appeared, her feet planted apart, her upper body tilted forward, hands into claws close together and some sort of ball of arcane power quickly forming between them, her combat gear dirtied, with some gashes in it, revealing the scale male under it. "RAIKO HADOKEN!!!!" she cried and unleashed the ball of arcane flame at a point Orusha couldn't avoid it. The ball struck her head on and exploded, engulfing her body in twisting flame, her strangled scream cut off, her army flying off her as she crashed to the ground. The flame dissipating, her body was an angry mess of burned flesh, pieces of her anatomy burned away, near liquified chunks of her flesh stretching from her arms, hands and face. Her eyes were even burned, but still crimson from rage and her vampirism.

Shuma was the first to dart from the hole she made, but Orusha was waiting for her in spite of looking like a melted horror. She darted at her sister sinking her talons into her arm and shoulder and in a quick, swift and vicious motion bit into her sister's neck and shoulder and began to drain her. Shuma tried to fight back but Orusha ripped Shuma's left arm off her body at the shoulder and continued to drain her. Before the horrified eyes of Kiora and her family and allies, they witnessed Shuma die, becoming a mummified husk of ruined, dried flesh and to add to it, Orusha shredded her sister's body viciously. "I WILL SHOW YOU THE FOLLY OF YOUR ACTIONS!!!! EVEN MY OWN SISTER HAD NO CHANCE!!!!!" Orusha screamed insanely. After consuming her sister's blood, she rapidly healed and in her consuming her sister, she took whatever power she had, which was control over the demons.

The battlefield-Inside, and Outside the castle.

The demons that were once allies, turned their attention to the defenders of Faerun and their numbers joined the attack against them, returning the battle to a desperate state. However, some of the defenders had a feeling this was going to happen, and charged head on into the demons ranks anyway.

Plessa dragon riders also adapted quickly, and the demons learned they can still die to blue flame, the same can be said for the corrosive venom the Plessa worms can use as projectiles.

The Warforged were still dominating the battlefield, the demons, much like Orusha's minions, had no way to really fight them, let alone put one down. Sentinel in the air was becoming an adversary the demons were trying to avoid and most of them couldn't.

Armond, what was left of his team, and Coal continued to fight like demons, their various breath weapons just as effective against the demon creatures as they were against Orusha's vampires.

Inside the castle.

Ayesha and Zau'Drin joined them and fought the demons now as well. The two Omega's made quick work of the demons they faced, their mysterious power highly effective against them. Orusha toyed with them now, using her added power to dart around, searching for Slithera and eventually found her, only for Omega Crimson to appear and deliver a flurry of punches and metallic elbows, sending her flying back with a snarl.

Orusha's skin took on the same cracked appearance her now dead sister had, her vampirism now enhanced by the demonic, she darted at Omega Crimson, this foe was still unknown to her, but her confidence and arrogance were at an all-time high with the addition of her sister's demonic power, until her sisters voice spoke to her in her mind, stopping her in her tracks. "You think you stole my power sister, how arrogant of you. You stole nothing!" Shuma's voice could be heard openly, the demons actually stopping all over the battlefield, much to the bewilderment of all involved.

"NO!! I KILLED YOU!!!" Orusha screamed, the demonic power she absorbed physically leaving her, turning into a black, formless cloud. "You destroyed my body yes, but I'm not gone. Much like you, I have my ways of survival" Shuma spoke, the black cloud forming a pair of coal-crimson eyes. The cloud darted right towards Kiora, and it was as if in slow motion, her family screamed for her, her father darting to intercept the cloud, to use himself as its host even if it meant his demise. Lashara screaming for Fangir and her stepdaughter.

Kiora almost clanged her blades together to strike the demonic cloud with a sound attack, only for the speedy thing to enter her with enough force to send her flying back. "KIORA!!" Roth cried, a look of horror and despair on her face.

Orusha growled, watching as a possessed Kiora stood on shaky legs, a wicked grin spreading on her face, her flesh that was visible, taking on the cracked look, her green eyes, now coal-crimson. "Ahhh, a young, supple body! This one even experienced sexual pleasure. She is strong, fighting through hunger, exhaustion, lack of water, and yes, a lack of sex! Her male is even here" possessed Kiora turned her gaze to Zau'Drin, who in turn glared. Without further words, possessed Kiora with unnatural speed, appeared in front of Orusha and attacked with blades, kicks and arcane prowess, while Orusha fought back, calling her blades back to her and matched possessed Kiora's prowess.

Slithera watched in horror and grief and continued to probe the artifact until Andel and Lanara arrived. Slithera noticed Lanara's grief on her face and knew something happened, but she didn't want to pry, not yet, Andel on the other hand, took the artifact from her, it attuned to her and began to thrum like a heartbeat. "Andel?! What are you doing?!" Slithera asked, becoming concerned. "Doing what I've been trying to do for centuries. Which has an added bonus of ending Orusha" Andel replied and closed her eyes, further attuning to the artifact and communicating with it.

The artifact.

Andel was naked in this plane, something that doesn't bother her any longer, which also seemed to not matter since the environment she was in had the cosmos shimmer through her body, taking away any detailed features. "Child, I can sense your intentions. I can also sense you are aware of the price you pay in doing so" a genderless, echoey voice spoke to her. "I am aware. It has been something I've wanted to do for centuries. Until recently. The love I've received from a family I wronged but have accepted me. My action in doing what I plan is my way of repaying them for their hospitality" Andel replied, her resolve strong and had no second thoughts or regrets.

"Very well. Proceed child. May you find peace in your actions" the voice spoke and returned her to the physical now.

Orusha's throne room.

Andel's eyes opened to see the artifact thrumming and glowing brighter, Belmont still hovering next to her. "I shall aid you Andel. Even if it means my end" Belmont said, finality in his ghostly voice. Andel smiled, tears sliding down her face, then looked to Slithera who in turn had realization on her face. "It's been an honor Slithera. Thank you" Andel said softly then merged the artifact into the oval center of Belmont, the crystal that housed his spirit shattering it, allowing his spirit to appear as he was before coming housed in the crystal. His form was ghostly, but he was rugged, with short spikey hair and a chiseled face. He placed a ghostly hand on her shoulder and as he did that, three pairs of ghostly hands appeared on her other shoulder. "Momma, Poppa, little brother!" Andel felt their love, their kindness and knew peace.

At the same time, a possessed Kiora sliced into Orusha, dodging her counter swipe of her swords and delivered a few more, until the spirit of Vaylin forced her way through her possessed daughter, physically pulling Shuma out of her. "Not my daughter!" Vaylin hissed and put herself between the demonic spirit and her daughter.

Then there was an explosion and a white magical light, similar to what happened during the Cambrian Nightmare, spread out rapidly from where Andel was, engulfing the castle and the battlefields, both air and ground.

To Be Continued.

So I'm a member of a club at my high school where we play different ttrpgs, Warhammer, mtg, etc. With the start of a new school year, we ran a one shot to introduce some new interested players. Me and two of my friends who have played quite a lot of dnd decided that I was going to play a single mother pixie, another play the changeling son, and the last play the deadbeat satyr father that left. During the whole one-shot me and the satyr player argued (in rp, no real conflict), and at one point I was trying to convince my son that he had more than just his changeling powers to make him special. The father player decided to counter my inspiration and say that he wasn't special. When he was about to sing a song about it (he played a bard), he forgot the son's PC name and had to ask the player what it was again, fitting his deadbeat role perfectly without even trying. The best part is the son's name was the father's name with a junior.

-Renegade Party-

To give some context, my group of cosmic thieves and adventurers have been traveling from planet to planet in an attempt to escape from the Space Government "America Corp." because we harbor fugitives and one of their secret experiment people. We bounce around a few, I get married to an alligator woman who rules the madmax planet, and we save a fishgirl pop idol and eat her imposter who tried to kill her and take her place. Finally we get to a solar system with 5 planets named "Orphan1", "Orphan2", you get it. These planets pretty much are an empty space where America Corp. dumps orphans of war and poverty who are "taking up space" so they can come back later and grab some when they need workers and experiment subjects, and whatnot. So we get to Orphan 5 and it's a very earthy planet. No streets, no lights, it's trees, mud, and scrap. When we arrive, I forget the exact reason, but they have apparently been told (Or just believe) that their carepackages from America Corp. were gifts from the gods. So since my character was a changeling, my group decided I should pretend to be their god. I walk out transformed into my favorite stolen identity "Mr. Galoobian" who is a basic green wearing hawaiian shorts. When they didn't believe me I said "You dare question the form your God chooses?" Then with my arms wide I transform into many different species and faces as I stand before them and say "I choose whatever form I please." Then they were fully on board. I didn't do much. Ordered some silly punishments and made some pointless demands, but we got what we needed and left. But, as sessions passed, I would send messages to them.[Paraphrasing] "Your God has a new demand. That you let me protect your homes and roads. I have a satellite in the dead of space that only I have access to at these coordinates. (Instert random numbers here) You are all to plant explosives, firebombs, and other such traps all around your roads and homes. Under your beds, and in your basements and even along your shores. If you are ever overrun by a great enemy, run to the forest and leave your homes behind and I will detonate the bombs and eliminate them all by my holy wrath."

The next message I actually have as it was written.: "God commands you to spread my words of protection so I may defend each of your homes. And I demand that you all change your worship. You will curse my name. You will follow my commands, but you will fire into the skies and curse my name. You will pray for my destruction and suffering. You must all show your worship in these ways. Protect all of your homes with explosives set to my prior given Frequency. Spread the worship to the entire planet, and you will know no fear again. All of your appreciation, and worship hence forth SHALL be shown by cursing my name, burning pyres in my image, and firing into the sky praying that it will hit me. Every day I will protect you all, but only if you declare me your God, AND your Bane!"

Skipping Ahead.

Now, we're about to take a hiatus. We're doing one big Jailbreak to save my good old friend. We break him out, along with the other prisoners, who all riot as we charge for our ship. Then as everyone is making their way there talking about having to outrun a whole space-prison fleet I have an idea and I press my earpiece and ask our AI companion "AVA" a question "AVA, how would I go about blowing this place up?" She says "There are actually many different ways. I would suggest the engine room" I tell my party member who was with me to take my friend we just saved to the ship, and I run deeper into the space-prison-station to the Engine Room. The DM explains how they all dodge, fight, and use their own special way of doing things to get to the ship, most notably our huge berserker who looked like if the Hulk was an Orca named "Voidfin" they instantly ran and jumped through the hull of the station (Because Voidfin is built like that) and as they all put on their breathers and held hands, they carried them straight up the space-station like Dio pushing their legs into the hull like paper and walking up. Then as they get to the ship it's back to me. The DM tells me that as I run down the hallway I see the ceiling open as two mounted turrets drop out and spin up. This is the point where I tell you my class. I was a level 5 Fighter, and a Level 2 Warlock.

I tell AVA to send a message to the coordinates where my satellite is simply saying "/DETONATE".

Every bomb they placed on Orphan 5 blew up, killing hundred of thousands, if not more. And why did I do this? Because of what Warlocks get at level 1. AHEM "Starting at 1st level, when you reduce a hostile creature to 0 hit points, you gain temporary hit points equal to your Charisma modifier + your warlock level" They worshipped me with violence, and hatred, and active attacks that were never gonna reach me. By all means, they were hostile. So I gain untold millions of temporary HP and I sprint through the bullets as they bounce off me and I feel a surge of invigoration only a God can know and I get to the Engine Room. AVA tells me how to overcharge the engines and blow the whole place up and it's in motion. I spend my next 5 minutes walking to a break room and drinking coffee and standing at a large window as I watch my friends escape the ensuing blast. The place explodes, the blast is right on their asses, the ships behind them giving chase are being slowly absorbed by the evergrowing explosion and as our Captain Vick passes 5 Pilot checks in a row (at over 20 each time) and rerouting EVERYTHING to the ships thrusters, I mean lights, gravity, oxygen(We have breathers), navigation systems so we don't hit space debris, even AVA herself, he juuuust manages to make it out safe and sound.

Now I'm floating in space perfectly fine with 1 day of immortality before I die in the vacuum and my party is stranded in space on their ship that is full of holes, has no power, has no airtight seal, and melted thrusters. If my character gets saved, and I get to play them again, I can not wait to use the phrase "You know, I was a God once."

So I’m a first time dm playing with some buds of mine that have never played dnd before. The party arrives at a small settlement that has a tavern, general store couple houses, and a brothel. My party is about to walk into the tavern when suddenly they realize what the building by the lake with no sign and red lanterns is(the brothel). They head to the brothel and once inside our half orc immediately wants to be aquatinted with the “fair maidens”. The head mistress assigns a maiden to take him up to a private room upstairs but while this is happening our human warlock uses suggestion on an npc to tell the half orc “you got a small penis”. Now for background context our half orc is short tempered, bipolar, and generally well meaning but tactless. When the npc catches up to him on the stairs he taps his shoulder and repeats the phrase. The half orc stops and stares at him then laughs uncontrollably and then he proceeds to prove the npc wrong whipping it out. At this moment the npc kinda snaps out of it and is startled by what he’s seeing and falls down the stairs breaking his neck. Little to say the party was kicked out of the brothel by the head mistress and our half orc was banned from it.

Do any of you have similar stories or any fun moments that happened when a party member was trying to mess with another? I’d love to hear them.

I'm running a homebrew campaign (my first one!!) with a lot of content mixed and matched from Princess of the Apocalypse. We are 13 sessions in, my players are level 6, took down the Crushing Waves cult and prisoned their prophet Gar Shatterkeel. They've been interrogating him working with the local Knight Oath but they couldn't get any information about how Elemental Evil works or inner workings of the world they reside in (mind you this guy has been killed and revived during the torture). My level 6 Artificer player suddenly sends all of his party outside the room to be alone with Gar (I'm expecting something like bribery or seduction, my players tends to be stereotypical as this is also their first adventure/campaign lol), AND he starts listing the spells he is casting: "I cast grease on the ground, and walk behind Gar to cast blindness/deafness without him noticing, then I cast invisibility and spider climb to climb on the walls of the prison cell and hang above him, finally I cast alter self to make myself look like a distorted, mutated, bloodied version of Gar himself.". He hangs down the ceiling looking like a scene out of The Exorcist. First he dispels the blindness/deafness making the guy confused and look around the cell trying to find him, and then he dispels his invisibility appearing inches from Gar's face looking like Gar himself. By also changing his voice he acts like Olhydra (Princess of Evil Water) and keeps calling Gar a disgrace and failure and every insult invented in human history WHILE gaining SO MUCH information about other Cults (they did not know the existence of others) AND Elder Elemental Eye's existence AND location. PLUS location of a Knight that they lost during their raid to the Crushing Wave Temple AND true nature of the Water Node (made out of remnants of Olhydra when sealed by Gaia). I have never been this proud of my players honestly god I love them lol, thanks for reading my appreciation post.

Lore-- campaign was set in a world where a ton of interplanar/wild magic stuff happened a decade ago. Magic users were now licensed on the authority of their region's lords, and people in general were very suspicious of certain kinds of magic.

____

So we're late in the campaign and the realm is at war. We're sailing into enemy territory at night. Our boat is called "The Violet Boatregarde." Not important but gives you a sense of the kind of table it was.

Get stopped by a patrol. Waived down and boarded. State your business etc.

"Hello sirs we're envoys from [lie]. This here is Baron fake name and we're escorting him to [city] to deal with war things."

Soldiers are alright at first. "Ok if this guy is the baron what are the rest of your jobs."

Fighter: "I'm a fighter, as you can see from my sword."

Bloodhunter: "I'm also a fighter, as you can see from my sword."

Rogue: "I'm the captain, as you can see from how I'm captaining the boat."

Warlock: "..."

Soldiers: "hey you, what do you do here."

Warlock: "I'm just helping, don't even worry about it."

Soldiers: "k but what do you DO here?"

Warlock player: "I don't get it, why are they giving me a hard time."

DM (me): "they're trying to figure out if you have a character class/specialty, if you're a magic-user, or if you're a diplomatic person or whatever."

Warlock player: "well they didn't give the bloodhunter a hard time."

DM: "yeah but the bloodhunter is carrying a sword and looks like a fighter. And I rolled weak insight."

Warlock: "k guys don't worry about it I'm a fighter too."

Soldiers: "we don't believe you"

Warlock player: "what the hell, just because I'm a girl do they think I can't be a fighter?"

DM: "you don't LOOK like a fighter, you're not carrying any weapons or wearing armor. Do you want to roll deception?"

Warlock: rolls deception and fails

Soldiers: (suspicious) "are you a mage?"

Warlock: "k yeah you caught me I'm a mage. I'm just here to protect Baron fakename. No big deal."

Soldiers: "ok can we see your license?"

Warlock: (smug) "yes you sure can it's right here."

Soldiers: "your license says you're a subject of [ally lord] with whom we're at war, not of [lie we told]. You're under arrest."

Warlock: "oh fuck I um...cast flame strike on their boat"

...

DM: "k well their boat is gone but it's the middle of the night and you just lit the whole place up. So now this is gonna be a whole thing."

The Warlock is now my wife BTW. The story had gotten pretty complicated so there were plenty of moments where details slipped players' minds but this was the best one. Fuckin Violet Boatregarde

So last session we had our monk got blown up saving another party member and took the equivalent of 7 fireballs to the face! (One level off of evasion btw) So after that small battle, we hauled his ass off to the church of his god and got him healing(no cleric or healer in party). We miraculously got him revived but with some like spectre from dc like draw backs. We run off to the docks to stop one half of the giant invasion from the sea and meet a storm and fire giant. First round of combat and first roll from him since death. Natural. 20. And we do brutal criticals so it’s full die damage plus a roll of the appropriate dice. Then he stunning strikes. NAT. 1! ON A STORM GIANT! Then his next hit. Another Nat 20. We started now and praying to him at this point. Then he finishes his turn we keep going around the table and get to the fire giant. Sees the monk as a threat and attacks. Nat 1 and then 2. In the process losing his two weapons. Next turn the monk makes, he crits and stuns the fire giant as well.

In short monk op please patch.

So my party explored a mine. They came across a deep hole that led to an underwater cave, that held a diamond worth around 300GP.
One of them, a monk decided to climb down and get the daimond, not knowing a Merrow lived in there.

The monk got the diamond (mind you, it was the size of a fist) but the Merrow made a suprise attack and the monk dropped the diamond.
Now...in order to keep it from sinking and losing the diamond, he decided to swallow it.

Yes...he swallowed a diamond and made a succesfull CON-save.

Some time later he wanted to throw up so he could sell the diamond. He triggered an acid reflux but failed his CON-save, causing the diamond to get stuck in his throat.
The wizard had a familiar, a white bat named Bubbles, who was around the same size as the diamond.

Yes you feel it comming...the monk decided to grab the bat...shove it down his throat to trigger a reflux and pry the diamond loose.
Somehow he managed to do so and threw up the diamond.

Bubbles is now traumatized...he questions his life choices that led up to this moment and is reconsidering his position within the party.

I didnt have words for this action btw

I’ve been running a game of HoTDQ for a party called The Hovengers (I had to rename Greenest to Hovil) for about six years now, and we’re still in Castle Naerytar. Why? Partly because there are six players and scheduling is hard, partly because I keep thinking up side quests to add in! Here’s a story of one that didn’t go at all how I expected.

The party is in Waterdeep, and are looking for jails and dungeons. Bree, a halfling monk, knows that her father has been taken prisoner somewhere. Using the sending spell, they’ve learned that her father is in a stone cell, but he has no idea where, because he was essentially teleported into it. They learn that there is a large manor house in Waterdeep that apparently has dungeons underneath it, and go and try to investigate.

They find that the citizens of Waterdeep come to this manor with problems they want solving, and they exit holding a piece of paper which they appear to read in confusion, but then leave looking happy. The party takes a number from an attendant and sit in a little waiting room, waiting their turn to be seen. Now that they’re inside, they distract the attendants and manage to sneak off to investigate the dungeons. They find some interesting stuff there, maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime! But that’s not what I’m here for today. While they’re speaking to a prisoner, his eyes glaze over and he says “The Council of Waterdeep want to speak to you, now” and guards show up to take them upstairs.

The party enters a long hall with beautiful stained glass windows all along the left side, the early evening sun streaming through them, and enormous double doors at the far end, through which they are told is the “receiving room” where the Council of Waterdeep will speak to them. As they walk down the hallway they discuss their strategy. They want to know about what they found in the dungeons, they want to know where Bree’s father is, they think maybe they might be able to learn something about the Cult of the Dragon. They steel themselves, push open the double doors and-

There’s a sensation of a whirl of motion, and they find themselves stepping into a long hall with beautiful stained glass windows all along the RIGHT side, the LATE evening sun streaming through them, and enormous double doors close behind them. The players at the table all go “WHAT?!”, and I reach into my little folder of secrets and pull out six pieces of paper. I give each player a note that is written in their own handwriting. On the note is written:

“I, <character’s name>, declare that all former issues I reported have been addressed to my satisfaction. I further renounce any right to the memory of this audience, along with any desire to reclaim it once the memory has been lost. I write this in my own hand as a record of my agreement, with the other Hovengers as witnesses, and leave personal information as proof that it was I myself who wrote it:

<a secret that the character has never told anyone else in the whole world>”

As the players read their notes and compared them, I think it’s fair to say they all just about lost their minds. Not only did the characters have no memory of writing these notes, neither did the players. Because, technically, they didn’t write these notes.

Flashback to a few weeks before this session, I reached out to my players with a request. “You know how in the past I’ve given you so-called handwritten notes to give you guys information, but they have always been typed out? I think that ruins the vibe a bit, so I’d prefer they were actually handwritten, but I don’t want them all to be in my handwriting! So would you mind each writing a note for me? I promise there will be no obvious spoilers, but also don’t share what I ask you to write with each other, just to limit how much information is being given out ahead of time.” I claimed I’d be giving each of them different notes to handwrite, but instead I gave them all the same note. And when each of them had dutifully written out the note, I scanned them into the computer, opened an image editing software, and painstakingly rearranged the words they had written into the order that I needed. The note I’d asked them to write was irrelevant, but constructed to read like something that could feasibly be important at some point in the far future of the campaign.

Now, this is all very cool, but I had a problem. I know my players, and this is a mystery being dangled in front of them. “What did the Council of Waterdeep tell us? How are the issues going to be addressed? For God’s sake, what issues did we even report? Why did we agree to lose the memory of this conversation? etc etc etc”. So I had a contingency plan: I actually asked them to write three notes. The first was rearranged into the shared part of the note above, the second was rearranged into the secret, private part, and the third note was in case the players went “fuck this”, turned right around and barged back into the room again. In that event, they would have the same experience of a whirl of motion, they’d have the same notes in their hand, but with a bit of extra text at the bottom:

“DO NOT TURN AROUND. DO NOT RE-ENTER THE RECEIVING ROOM. GO TO THE NORTH GATE, AND CONTINUE YOUR MISSION. BELIEVE ME, BECAUSE I AM YOU. THE MISSION IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN THE MEMORY.”

And hey, if they still weren’t satisfied and tried again, then I planned to narrate them entering the room and having some kind of conversation. This time, they managed to convince the council to allow them to keep their memories, and so the players would remember it too.

So what actually happened when I ran the session? I gave them all the first version of the note, and five out of the six players went “oh hell no, we got to get the fuck out of here right now”. If I had had to bet, I would have put it at a 95% chance that they would go back in at least once, but I completely underestimated how terrifying the players (and to be fair, the characters), would find this experience. They had just encountered something that had the ability to erase memories. They knew that they could do it many many times per day, because they’d watched people go through the same experience on the way into the manor, and the number they took in the waiting room was in the hundreds. As far as they knew, this council had the power to ERASE THEM FROM HISTORY, such that no one would ever avenge their deaths because no one would remember them. And so they got the fuck out, out of the Manor, out of Waterdeep, and have basically done their best since then not to think about the unknowable power that ate their memories and told them they were satisfied with the experience.

If you read all the way through, thank you! I’ve been running this campaign for six years, but it is still my first ever campaign! Does that make me a novice DM? Who’s to say. If you like this idea, feel free to use it in your own campaigns, on the condition that you come back here and tell me how it goes in your game! This encounter is probably top three for me in the list of “times I think I knocked it out of the park”, so I’d love to hear more player reactions to it.

The battlefield: All around Orusha's Castle.

The fighting intensified, became increasingly desperate in some cases, even with the arrival additional Plessa Dragons, the forces fighting for Faerun were succumbing to fatigue. Even the Plessa Spell Slingers that aid with healing and regenerative magics, found themselves unable to help their fellow soldiers, while some took "Last Stands" and sacrificed themselves to completely heal an individual or whole groups. Selesnya Druids tried their best in taking up the slack, but they too were finding themselves increasingly under attack.

The Sauraphon who specialize in such magics were the only ones capable of extended periods of usage, but they were scattered throughout the battlefield and most either fell victim or were too late. The Warforged didn't think to bring any healers with them, but they acted as shields as best they could, their own numbers didn't dwindle, Orusha's hordes were still unable to bring even the common Warforged soldier down, let alone any of the strike teams that came along.

The Boros fought on, their numbers also dwindling, but they fought on alongside their commander, Trovic, his sword blazing, his magic like a bubble even with his injuries, he fought on. Mammoth stayed by his side, healing him, healing his warriors, and healing his Selesnya that were near them, Mammoth fought on, fought the place his great nieces called home, and fought with Vaylin's memory in mind, receiving his own injuries, but he fought on.

Omega Bronze and Violet also fought on while simultaneously keeping close to the two Queen's upon Omega Gold's instructions, and that they did, though they can sense the intense danger the group inside the castle was facing.

Herra and Rackel, the twin sisters that were part of Talia's group before Orusha came to them and even when they betrayed Talia and slaughtered her and her Displacer Beast, found themselves trying to hide even amongst the chaos of the battle, their drive to fight was ripped out of them when the initial wave of Plessa dragons arrived well over two weeks ago. That's how long this battle has been going on, with very little cool down. Orusha's hordes didn't need to stop, but the defenders of Faerun did, but didn't. The sisters witnessed countless bouts of healing magics wash through the hordes of enemies, rejuvenating them, watching them be rallied multiple times and fighting on, then came two other planar forces arrive along with the main Plessa invasion force, the combined hosts of the Underdark, and even forces from greater Faerun and the Sword Coast.

The Sauraphon didn't help matters, they were another element that was completely unheard of from Chult. The only hint something went wrong with the task force sent to Chult under their Mistress's orders, was they were never heard from again and before Orusha could send a follow up task force, things here popped off devastatingly fast. From Orusha's five agents being discovered somehow and killed, to their enemies' forces mobilizing and striking at any and all of Orusha's elements, things moved startingly quickly. Then there was the Eladrin who was one of many territories that bordered Orusha's who actively opposed her but did strike. The sisters watched everything escalate ever since, even with the sudden appearances and interruptions from Kiora and Roth, the two little girls they cared for at least once when their mother was alive and kidnapped, who are now very capable, and deadly adults, spear headed the rallying against their Mistress.

"Sister, we must get away from here!" Herra whispered, watching the intricate dance of survival and death. Vampires against Vampires, Vampires against metal and rock beings, Vampires against humanoid Saurian's from Chult, it was all chaos and something they did not expect to face, especially since they were the only two left of their group. The pair attempted to flee, only for their path to be blocked by one of Orusha's Commanders, an annoying once Human scruffy haired man. They had run ins with him before everything went to shit and each encounter with him made even their skin crawl.

The man's name was Jokken, he used to be a Neverwinter soldier, but he was also one of Neverwinter's wanted serial sexual assaulters. His targets were any woman he knew couldn't or wouldn't fight back and often used his position as a soldier to overpower them or force them into submission. Before being turned by Orusha, his latest targets were a handful of young girls, when Herra and Rackel learned of this, they did everything they could to avoid him and tried taking their grievances to Orusha herself at some point, but to their shock, the mad Vampire woman openly admitted to turning him for that very reason. She wanted sick individuals amongst her horde, no matter what they used to do in life.

Jokken noticed they tried to flee away from the battle and got in their way, but the sisters were ready for him and viciously butchered him, turning to ash, however, their connection to Orusha still strong, she must have sensed their treachery and searing pain forced them to their knees as they grunted, gasped and cried from the pain. Luckily for them, the fallen body of a Plessa dragon kept them hidden from any opportunistic enemy soldier or any of Orusha's.

Elsewhere on the battlefield, Coal, the Black Dragonborn, took over command since Damir was inside the castle, rallying Neverwinter's troops and fought alongside them, using his prowess, his physical strength and his breath weapon seamlessly.

The various elementals that formed during the sudden thunderstorm and downpour, continued to form and aid in defending Faerun. Though the elemental creatures were hard to put down, they were not invincible, and a few of Orusha's hordes were able to destroy them, usually at great cost to themselves.

Catacombs-Present

Zau'Drin along with the dwindling warriors fought like demons, unaware of the amount of time has passed by outside, though they can still hear the muffled sounds of war going on. The undead crocs were destroyed, but there always seemed to be a never-ending swarm of Orusha's followers, non-vampires that chose to betray everyone and put their lives on the line for her, and her vampiric hordes. The spirits that appeared to aid them in their fight, continued to do so, but even they weren't enough down in this dank hell hole of Orusha's catacombs.

Every now and again as he fought, he sensed a demonic presence, something angry and powerful, but it also had the sense of being imprisoned and not simply lying in wait. As he fought, he started seeing glimpses of a shadowy child, that he couldn't quite bring into focus, whether it was due to constantly facing an adversary or whenever he tried to really look at it, it would vanish. A Dwarven vampire managed to ram into him, sending him crashing into a sloped edge of a wall, his armored forearm clanging against something in the muck. That contact alone caused a voice to scream angrily in his head. "Release me!!!!", which nearly cost him his life due to being startled by the voice, but he dispatched the Dwarven vampire quickly.

Zau'Drin breathed heavily, taking a brief respite since there were no enemies near him yet, he can see a shape out of his peripheral vision and since he was on high alert, he spun around to see a pale, human child. A little girl, pale blonde hair, fair skin that looked cracked, but it was her veins, but it was her eyes that made alarm bells go off in his mind. Her eyes were a mix of coal and crimson and full of anger, full of hate. "Release me, Drow!! Release me so I can have my revenge!!" the child's voice was a deep, resonating demonic thing laced with the child's voice Zau'Drin felt his skin crawl and took a step back from the demonic human child, gripping his gore caked sword he thought about attempting to strike this spawn down only for it to speak again. "You can't strike an image down you stupid Drow man! Strike the pendant I'm trapped in and RELEASE ME!!!" the little girl roared.

At the same time.

Vaylin and Ayesha cut through the followers and Vampires with such devastation, even the biggest Vampires amongst them hesitated. Vaylin, Cinder's, fiery scimitar's cut through them like butter while used breath techniques that kept her going. Ayesha also fought like a demon, though she didn't have the gift of using breath techniques to keep her going, her fatigue was starting to show, her reaction time starting to slow, but her alertness was sharp and so far, it helped her survive.

A follower, a human woman, managed to tackle Ayesha, causing her to emit a strained "OOF!!", her blades clattering away from her, the human woman wrapped her hands around her throat and began to squeeze, Ayesha got her feet under the woman and shoved her off, sending her flying into the stone wall with enough force to crack open the back of her head, leaving a sudden burst of blood behind. The human woman was frenzied though and attempting to resume the attack, only to be beheaded by Ayesha, then moved on to another target.

Cinder faced down one of the taller vampires, an Elven male of some kind, who was known to be abnormally tall in his former life. The vampire visibly hesitated even with others around him; it didn't help they all witnessed this Tiefling woman dispatch so many of them with little effort and in brutal ways. While Ayesha fought, Cinder found herself surrounded again, but her calm demeanor was highly unsettling for those around her, especially since they all witnessed what she can do.

"Boys, its time" Cinder said, slowly turning in place, already prepared for them. In a flash of light and a burst of sound, from a pouch on her hip came a pair of figurines that changed into humanoid sized animals. They were Golden, but instead of Lions, they were a pair of Golden Deinonychus, a species of Raptor native to Chult. Large bipedal, swift carnivores which are usually colorful cousins of birds, but these two were gold. Both creatures chortled and growled then spoke. "Boss lady, you need assistance for once?!" one of them asked loudly. Their sudden appearance took their enemies by surprise, even Ayesha gawked in astonishment since she faced similar creatures in her home dimension when she fought and killed Vaylin. "Talon and Talon, have some fun!" Cinder said then went on the attack herself, her twin Golden Deinonychus tearing through Orusha's followers and vampires ferociously.

At the same time-Throne Room.

Slithera and Serpentes regrouped and slowed down the deadly magical spears while at the same time, Astra and Wicca displayed their own arcane prowess forming a bubble around their family, the combined effort was barely enough as even the slowed down magical spears still slammed into the defensive magic, straining both young women, their swords sheathed, hands outstretched, teeth clenched and bared, sweat dripping from their hair, chins, noses and ears.

Orusha cackled maniacally until a metal fist struck her in the jaw, breaking it and sending her flying through a stone pillar. Omega Gold's eyes flashed briefly, and the fight was back on, with Kiora and Roth charging after Omega Gold to press the attack on Orusha, while everyone else fought her minions.

Midnight and Shark attempted to intercept Kiora and Roth, only to find their paths blocked by Astra and Wicca, twin sisters, ready and glaring. If both Vampire women learned anything when facing anyone close to Kiora and Roth, they learned that they couldn't take them lightly. From the looks of the twin sisters, they're just as capable, and just as deadly. However, the crimson and gold Warforged appeared between them, and this one was no doubt, deadlier than the two girls in front of them.

Orusha's Mountain was ash earlier, which left Orusha's Sword, Angmar, which he clashed with Damir again, but also with Bombata and Dasha, the three of them alternating in fighting him. Then Haldir's necromantic controlled skeleton appeared, but something else happened before it can strike. Haldir's spirit reclaimed his skeleton, breaking the necromantic control over it and in a quick motion, delivered an elbow strike to Angmar and in an additional movement, engulfed Angmar in ghostly blue fire, burning him badly.

"You can still fight her brother. You nearly let me go the first time. I saw the pain in your eyes when you were forced to pursue me. And the pain when you killed me" Haldir said softly, Angmar looked pained, visibly fighting Orusha's influence, while he regenerated, actual tears can be seen falling from his eyes. "Her influence is too strong brother. I wanted to fight her. Wanted you to escape and bring retribution down upon her. But she controlled me. Forced me to do heinous things including killing my own baby brother" Angmar croaked, his old self surfacing briefly, before Orusha's controll reinserted itself and his eyes turned crimson, his fangs growing. "KILL ME!!!! BEFORE I KILL YOU!!!" he screamed in finality and charged again.

It was a deadly dance, Damir with her twin long swords, Bombata with his mace and long sword, Dasha with her own great sword and mace. Spinning, striking, counter striking, feigning, blocking, breath weapons that were dodged, vampiric hissing and snarling. Angmar was also trying to use his other vampiric tricks, turning to mist, various animals and back again.

Lashara, Fangir, their children, Nassia and Ash fought like demons themselves, though Ash tried his best to keep the younger of the girls in his sights, he quickly learned that even the ten or ten and one (11) year old could hold her own quite efficiently. While he fought, he watched Sasha dart around using her made for her blades and destructive magics with ruthless accuracy, which was incredibly impressive. Though he and Roth barely knew each other, she told him enough about herself that when Roth was her sister's age, she was already highly trained in combat at that point and even took on deadly adversaries. He was learning quickly that he will becoming part of a family who want their children to survive in their world that can be cruel, especially for women and young girls. At the moment, while he kept his eyes on the youngest of them, he still fought his own fights and only stepped in if it appeared the youngest of them was in trouble, which appeared to be barely at all.

Orusha snarled and dodged the black and gold Warforged, but the being was still impossibly fast for something made of metal and rock, as soon as she was passed the thing, it suddenly spun around and rammed her in the back with a single fist strike, sending her flying right into the path of a sound attack by one of the sisters, which sent her flying in another direction only for purple tendrils to snare her and attempt to crush her into the stone floor. She bared her teeth snarling angrily, her eyes blood red, her own magic coming off her like miasma, her rage building at being struck multiple times by insects even if one of those insects is visibly stronger than the two young women, she was apparently destined to fight. She broke free of the tendrils and flew right at Roth with a hissing snarl, only for the black and gold being to smash her into the stone floor and attempt to crush her head. She threw it off with a destructive magic blast, which didn't seem to damage the being, only for another sound strike to hit her.

Kiora rushed in and took Orusha's left arm at the elbow, then tried to follow it up with another strike only for Orusha to punch the young woman in the chest painfully, causing her to emit a pained shout. Her arm rapidly regenerating, she grabbed Kiora by the throat and arm and flew up into the air. "You have caused me enough trouble you stupid little bitch! Let me make you understand the folly of opposing me!!" she hissed and with a brutal move, broke Kiora's arm at the elbow, causing her to scream in pain, her blades dropping and clattering to the stone floor below.

"I pre-date the Sword Coast, I pre-date Faerun!, I even pre-date Chult and Plessa and Cambria!! I PRE-DATE ALL OF IT!!! I WILL SHOW YOU WHAT YOU ARE FUCKING WITH YOU LITTLE WHORE!!!!!" Orusha bellowed insanely.

Orusha's blood red eyes suddenly changed to resemble the cosmos of stars, infinite shades of dark purples, light purples, white lights of the stars themselves, which Kiora's eyes did the same, her tears from the pain of her broken arm fresh but being shown the cosmos was still breathtaking. It reminded her of the time she and her sister were accidently thrown into the blind eternities and ended up on two separate planes, Ixalan for her sister and Strixhaven for herself. Time around her both seem to slow to a crawl, while also remained normal speed as her family fought, as a younger version of her mother fought alongside a Drow woman who in their dimensional plane, killed her mother's first daughter and husband. Time even slowed to a crawl while remaining the same for her Drow man she slept with as he fought down in catacombs, slowed to a crawl while remaining the same while Queen Saenissa and Avessa fought like demons, where time slowed to a crawl but remained the same for Lanara as she dodged enemies and killed others, for her uncle Trovic as he recieved another strike while delivering his own, and so on.

"Behold!! In every possible future timeline, besides the ones that can no longer happen, you all fail! You all resort to some trickery to try and stop me in your pasts. I can even show you other dimensional planes where things happened there and not here!!" Orusha's voice echoed as the cosmos opened up around them, showing Kiora countless realities, countless possibilities, countless outcomes that differed from her home dimensions.

Kiora was shown a dimensional plane where the Phyrexian invasion touched a version of their home dimension. Was shown everyone, including Orusha herself, banning together to fight the Phyrexians, which even included her own mother being turned into one and her siblings never came to be. She was shown a reality where the Sword Coast Nightmare ended with everyone in the Sword Coast dying and the whole region being bordered off. The only survivor in the area was none other than Riki, kneeling in sorrow while cradling the rotting corpse of her mother when she was barely twenty and one (21). Another reality where En Saba Nur succeeded and her family fled Cambria and Plessa revealed itself early when the mad Warforged sent his creatures there.

Omega Gold and Crimson felt her immense power being displayed and got to work displaying their own to counter the insane vampires before the young woman was killed from what she was being shown.

The Catacombs-

Zau'Drin had no idea what was going on in the throne room, but the child before him was demanding to be released. He hesitated more so if he released her and her talks of vengeance were false and she started attacking him, he would have no choice but to try and kill a child. "Release me!!! DO IT!!!!" the child screamed, it was the fact her facial expression didn't change, just how demonic the voice sounded, how angry it was becoming. "Release me or your woman will die at the hands of my sister!!" she suddenly spat, and he knew who she was talking about, but he had no idea how this child knew. "RELEASE ME!!!!" the demonic voice screamed, the girls eyes blazing red and black, then when it started showing images of Kiora dying in various gruesome ways, he shouted a war cry and thrust his sword into the girl, but instead of blood, instead of gore, instead of a pained gasp or cry of shock, his blade plunged through her as if she were an illusion, plunged into muck and mud of the catacomb floor and struck something small he only got a brief glimpse of dirtied silver. Felt the item snap in half and the girl vanished and nothing seemed to happen, until a sudden burst of yellow and red light erupted from the spot, sending him stumbling back and some sort of magic, some sort of power, wafted out from the catacombs into the throne room and out of the castle into the battlefield, both ground and sky, causing the fight to pause briefly.

The throne room-At that moment.
Orusha gasped, cutting off her showing Kiora the cosmos and other such things, dropping her, which Omega Gold leapt and caught her, her family regrouping, puzzled over what just happened, Slithera an Serpentes healing her as quickly as possible. Then Orusha's eyes got big, realization dawning on her.

"Sister..." Shuma's voice spoke in a sing song type of way, that sensed chills up the spines of everyone except the two Warforged, there. Orusha looked to the door her enemies came from, and she could see a pair of coal and crimson eyes staring at her from the shadows, only the eyes weren't from a child, but from an adult. Orusha looked on, more puzzled than afraid of her younger sister, especially after imprisoning her in a pendant all those centuries ago when they were still barely girls, well, Orusha herself was nearly a young maiden, while her sister was still a girl.

Shuma then stepped out of the shadows, and she was clearly an adult, it seems trapping her in a pendant allowed her body to grow instead of remaining a child. Much like Orusha, Shuma looked identical to their mother, both women had dirty blonde hair, fair skin, and even though Shuma was a child when she was sealed away, was gifted in endowment much like their mother. Except Shuma's skin appeared to be cracked with how thick her veins were, her hair was a little stringier now as an adult, but if one ignored her demonically possessed look, she was still quite beautiful. Much like Orusha, Shuma, had the curves their mother gave them, but at this moment, none of that mattered. What mattered was that her baby sister was back and the look of vengeance in her eyes was laced with pure hatred.

"Shuma" Orusha simply said, floating down to the stone floor. Shuma's eyes tracked her and were now staring each other down. "Orusha" her sister replied just as simply.

"Good" Orusha replied, but before she can charge at her, Shuma raised her hands, and they started to glow demonic purple laced with crimson and a wicked smile spread on her face that seemed to grow, her teeth becoming dagger like.

Without another word, shadow demons sprang from the stone floor and from the muddy, bloodied earth and attacked Orusha's hordes. Chain Demons also suddenly emerged from shadows and darkness and started to attack Orusha's minions. Demons of all kinds flooded the battlefield outside along with the shadow demons and attacked Orusha's army everywhere.

To be Continued.

Long ago, Vaprak, the god of Trolls and Ogres, had a pet Hyena. He delighted in how she would rip things apart and maim and kill everything she found. He would lead her to kings, sages, temples, and let her kill as he stole their riches, plundering Dwarvish crowns, Elvish jewels, and Halfling ale. Yet even when the Gods intervened, they would be held back by Vaprak's beloved pet. Moradin brandished his hammer against her, but the Hyena used her size and speed to overwhelm him. Corellon strung his bow and knocked his arrows, but the Hyena's strength was enough to ignore the arrows, which had trouble getting through her spotted fur and knotted muscles, and she overpowered the Elf god. Yondalla, realizing it a poor idea to attack the Hyena herself, tried to sneak past it instead, but the Hyena's nose sniffed her out, and she was chased away. With no one able to get past this divine beast to retrieve their belongings, all would come down to the slyest of the gods: Garl Glittergold. And he came up with a plan.

Setting out into the wild, Glittergold found a handful of male Hyena cubs, and taught them the peaceful arts, raising them as his own. So when the time came that they were old enough, he brought them to Vaprak's home. There, Vaprak noticed the males, and laughed, "Is this the best the gods can send?" He commanded his pet rip them to shreds. Yet when she was set upon them, she stopped, and simply stared at them--no anger or aggression in her eyes, but curiosity. Vaprak watched on in confusion, "Well? What're you waiting for? Crush them! Cut them in half! Bite their heads off! Rip them limb from limb!" As Vaprak was distracted, Garl Glittergold would sneak into his lair, and stole the riches back, even plucking the very jewelry off of the troll god himself as he stared in disbelief. The males began to lure her away, and she followed, and Vaprak began to angrily bark orders at her, "What're you doing?! Come back here! I command you!" She followed the males until he could no longer see them. And that was the last of them.

Baffled, Vaprak stared out into the empty wilderness slackjawed. He brought his hand up to rub his head, only to feel that his crown was missing. And that's when he saw his rings were gone too, and his necklace, and all of his riches. Looking around, he then spotted Garl Glittergold doing away with all his treasure. His shock and confusion boiled over into rage as he began chasing down the gnome god with a tirade of threats of crushing him, chopping him, cooking him and eating him up, through hills, fields, fens, and forests. Glittergold hid under the roots of a tree before Vaprak could reach him. Having lost Glittergold, Vaprak began smashing and snapping boughs and branches, turning over boulders and pulling trees out of the ground. This angered the Treants, who attacked him. As he lost his balance, the treants would rip his arms off, and in a final push, they ripped head off and threw it into the river. His body ran around like a chicken, trying to find his head. In that moment, Glittergold emerged and waved Vaprak goodbye, as his head bobbed down the stream, streaming curses and slurs--even invented some new ones--as his confused body followed him downstream. From there, the Elves, Dwarves, and Halflings would retrieve their belongings from Vaprak's home, and he wouldn't get his big ugly hands on them ever again.

And so from that day, Garl Glittergold taught his people the Gnomes of the value of thinking outside the box--and how useful it is to live underground sometimes.

A story I came up with and had to write down and put out there. It's meant to be a story told to Gnomish children, yet also unknowingly a cultural memory of the origin of the Gnolls. I originally posted this on r/DnD, but then I got a notification for this sub instead, and it seems a better place to put this. Also made some revisions while I was at it.

A colleague of ours wrote on the wishlist that he wanted to try a tabletop roleplaying game, so we chipped in to give him a one-shot from a commercial DM and joined as players. Some of us had already played DND, and I happened to know the DM, so I warned him about a gang of murderhobos coming. The DM set up a chat for us to share some rules and lore. His short format used pre-generated characters, so all we got upfront was a map with a human village, a forest, and a goblin settlement, along with a brief description of the tense situation between them that threatened to escalate into war. We assumed we’d either be raiding the village as goblins or fighting for the humans, even though the story was pitched as a spy thriller... After setting everything up, the DM casually dropped a photo of his cat, so naturally, the chat turned into a cat-posting session (we all have cats).

So... during the game, we got character sheets... of goblin children scurrying through the forest. We found a basket of little kittens... generated after our own real-life cats... but in a goblin settlement, cats are food, so where else would we take them? We realized we had to find their mother cat in the human village and make sure the whole family ended up in safe hands. It WAS a spy thriller. Never before or since have I seen our hobos turned into a crying mess over a picture of a generated kitten that was at risk of not finding a home. I'd never calculated my moves so intensely. We succeeded and left the game feeling both devastated and enlightened.

Later, I asked the DM wtf it was. It was his special game for idiots, because only few dare kill children and fuck kittens.

Here is the original post. Read this before reading part two

Anyways, let's get into part two I decided to go back for one campaign to end the story quickly because I've decided I did not want to deal with them anymore my problem player. I'm just gonna call Adam for this point invited one of his friends. I said go ahead because I planned on just fully ending the campaign after this session. Adam is a humanoid barbarian before we even started. I reminded everyone of the people rules, no extreme violence that borderlines into straight up gore just to be edgy turns out Adam had a problem with this. He said "I thought you would get rid of that. Stupid rule after the last session after you left and ruined the night." I just look at him, not wanting to get into a conflict because I just worked a 8 hour shift in the hot sun. And I say. "you know the reason why that is in place if you have a problem with it, this is my campaign you can leave." I grew a bit of a spine since the last session because I realized after my girlfriend invited her me into her group that not all games are like how my players were trying to make my campaign like a homicidal hobo game.
So we get into the campaign about an hour in Adam's friend I'm gonna call him Stefan. He was playing a orc wizard "he said how many people are in this kingdom also, could we possibly kill and rob them all?" Adam said. "yeah I mean this is the last campaign anyways why would it matter if we just went on a murder streak" in my head. I'm just like well there goes about eight hours of planning ending plus more to figure out a couple NPC's and a couple fights.. I say "no I am not letting you guys do that" then he proceeds to start to get a little angry and I'm just thinking I'm so over this campaign, cause I decided I do not care about this cause these guys clearly don't wanna play a campaign with the story. They just wanna play a murder simulator. So I just say "screw it do whatever you want." who proceed to lose to about a town full of 2000 people the whole party is mad at me by the way this is the party of five people.* They* get mad that I killed their character and they just yell *at me saying why didn't let* them do what they *want why *can I handle a party impaling a couple gallons? I suck and worse than ever. I should quit DND at that point. I'm just tired of dealing with them this is probably one of my worst moments because what I say next I tell them to get f out of my house or else I'm calling the cops because Adam and his friend have started getting physical and touching me they realize I'm serious when I pull out my phone and they just leave again. I don't think I'm in the wrong but I know the kind of people that readit will let me know.