Hey everyone! I started DMing a D&D campaign, and I thought that it’d make for good blog material. For those who are D&D versed, we started with a Wizards published campaign, The Slaying Stone. So far, it’s pretty fun looking, and everyone’s enjoying it. Here’s hoping you enjoy it too.
The cold wind blew sleet hard into the faces of our four adventurers, the dark evening sky barely visible through the horrible weather. A tall dragonborn lead the way, his head bowed down to avoid the sleet from hitting his eyes. A human followed him, his arms folded into his sleeves, his face hidden under the loose hood he wore on his cloak. Immediately to the human’s right was an elf, who was talking excitedly to the human. The weather seemed to make him only more obnoxious. And behind them all was a young half elf, her gigantic lute hanging off her back. Though it must have weighed a tonne, she didn’t seem to really care much.
The dragonborn raised his head, and grunted. “There’s a light in the distance.” He then proceeded to drink a whole skin of booze like it was water, find a new skin from his pack, and then started drinking it too.
The elf sighed. “Any idiot can see that. Or are you blind?”
The dragonborn shrugged. “So long as you pay me, I’m good either way.” Another skin bit the dust. The human laughed a little before he said “That’s what your mom said.” Both he and the elf started laughing.
The dragonborn chuckled, and continued to lead the way to the dim light. In the distance, one could make out a wide river with a stone bridge to cross it. On the other side, the dim light form before illuminated a short tower, and the entire clearing there was surrounded by forest on all sides. It wasn’t any further than 100 feet away, which warmed the bones of the soggy adventurers.
As they began to make their way over to the building, the elf pricked an ear. Howls, in the distance, no further than 40 feet away and on either side. “Hey guys, there are wolves.”
“Wolves?” Asked the human quizzically. “Oh noes, looks like we’re going to have to fight them or something.”
The dragonborn shrugged. “Okay, so I’ll go in front.”
A half elf skipped out from behind the human. “Okay! I’ll just sing them to death about how miserably I am.”
The human sighed. “Sure, whatever. It’s not like these things are particularly dangerous anyways.”
“Ha, like, not even. Have you SEEN these daggers? I can sneak attack the SHIT outta those things.” Just as the elf finished speaking, the wolves ran towards the group, fangs bared.
“ohshit-“The elf didn’t finish as the first wolf bit into the elf’s leg, dragging him away from the group.
The half -elf sprang into action. “Hold on, I’ll save yOOOOOW!” A second wolf bit into her thigh, dragging her towards a much bigger wolf, probably with the intent of making a meal of her.
“Well shit, this is going well.” The human noticed some wolves to the north of them, opposite the wolves dragging his friends away. “They’re screwed, let’s kill THESE guys instead!!” He reached out to the wolf’s mind, trying to crush it with his own. He settled on making the wolf do a jig.
The dragonborn saw a wolf run around to the other side of a rock close to where the human was. He calculated that, because of the muddy ground, unless he froze it, there would be no way to close the gap with the wolf before it began to flank the group. Taking a running start, he used his ice breath to freeze the mud in front of him, and then did a powerslide. Which would have been awesome, had he not slipped on his scaly hide and crashed into a nearby tree instead.
“Well screw you two too then! I can get myself out of this mess JUST FINE!” Screamed the elf. He unsheathed his daggers and swiped at a wolf’s face, gouging the wolf’s left eye. It yelped in pain, letting go of his captive and backed off 10 feet to get ready for another attack.
Not too far away, the half elf was beating the wolf biting her over the head with… a lute? It wasn’t very effective at first, but a lucky swing to the side of the wolf’s head crushed its cranium, and sent the wolf’s body flying to the side. The large wolf, the alpha, recalculated his plan and went after the dagger wielding danger to its right.
The human realized he couldn’t keep control of his target’s mind for much longer. Just as the wolf broke the mind control, the human focused all of his mystical might into one, all out mental assault, meant to liquify the brain of any foolish enough to be on his bad side. All the feelings of crushing despair, malice, greed, hate, suffering, and of his mother-in-law came out in one all encompassing attack, lighting the battlefield with psychic energy.
The wolf stood still for a moment, shook its head, then looked at the human as if wondering what he was.
“… meow.” And the wolf slunk off into the night as if nothing was the matter. With that threat effectively dealt with, the human patted himself on the back. What could possibly go wrooOOOOOOOOW!
The dragonborn got up, and turned around to see his prey had bitten down hard into the human’s rear, exposing his undergarments. The dragonborn swore that this time… THIS TIME… that wolf was going down. The dragonborn took a run, jumped onto the ice. His perfect form, his grace, and his skill slid him across the ice like a professional skater at the Olympics. He hopped off, readied his mace, and made a running charge…
Which cause him to trip on a root, go flying through the air, and land squarely on top of the wolf, causing it to yelp, and begin to run away. The dragonborn slowly got up, looked towards the wolf, and immediately began to curse and swear, eventually throwing his mace at the darkness where the wolf once was.
Which, largely due to a coincidence, sheer luck, or the fact that it was a million-in-one chance, hit the wolf square in the head so hard that, even in the darkness, the explosion of gore was impossible to miss. Go figure.
While the dragonborn contemplated why his dice gods hated him and loved him at the same time, the dagger wielding elf had problems of his own. His leg was bleeding profusely, and was completely unusable. To top it all off, those wolves dragged his perfect hair through the MUD. Someone was going to have to pay.
To be fair, it was a really expensive haircut.
He found the target of his wrath to be the large wolf right in front of him. Readying his crossbow, he took aim and fired a single, amazing shot; coincidentally, the shot was so perfect that, thanks to the rules of fiction, the wolf was somehow able to dodge the shot at the last possible second, causing the bolt to hit a nearby squirrel.
The squirrel’s last thoughts went as such, as far as we know: why me?
The wolf, happy that his freakishly good luck had paid off, decided that it was a good time to make a meal of this elf. And he might have succeeded had it not been for the half-elf coming out of nowhere and clobbering him over the back of his neck with a lute far more suited for clubbing small mammals than any actual music.
The last wolf looked out over the battlefield. These morons had somehow overcome his pack of highly trained, highly organized brothers who had hunted many people before. Then he remembered: oh, right. Player characters. Overpowered. Why didn’t I think of that?
At this point, he ran off, and became a major character that would haunt the adventurers for the rest of this adventure, and vowed revenge, which increased his chances of an epic show down, but probably means he was going to die anyway.
With the battle over, the group bandaged their wounds and made their way to the building they saw in the distance earlier. Whoever lived in there better have had a damn good reason for not coming to help them kill those wolves.
As they opened the door to the tower, an older woman greated them. Runes in various languages covered her wrinkled face, creating the weird impression that light just didn’t interact with her face properly. Behind her stood an older man, his white hair and short beard in perfect condition and maintenance. Rich.
When the adventurer’s asked why they didn’t help, the old lady answered. “Well, we’re old and infirm. We were shouting for you to come to us, but it seems like you handled the whole thing well enough. Come in! We have food and shelter and-”
Before she could finish, the dragonborn had not only finished at least 5 bottles of expensive wine from his sack, but he barged into the room.
“Oh yeah?!” he began. “Well, how’s about I show YOU what… like… *hic* what YOU like… FUCK IT.”
Whether through sheer force or sheer stupidity, the dragonborn tore off his chainmail pants, revealing his naked underside. He then shook his hips too and fro, scarring the entire group and rendering them all potentially mad.
The old lady, suitably unimpressed with anything the dragonborn was showing, cast a quick spell. As quickly as the chainmail pants had come off, they were on the dragonborn once more, but this time with a belt.
“And those,” she said with a hint of smug satisfaction, “are NEVER coming off.”
“Not even to poop?” He asked.
She thought for a minute. “Nope.”