MPG
2017-11-28, 11:33 AM
Hello all.
Not sure if anybody is even gonna read this, but I've slowly been turning my gaming group's campaign into a short novella.
After some encouraging words from the group themselves, I decided to try posting it here,
(you know, to check i they were just blowing smoke up their DM's butt so I'd drop in a few more items), and see what you, total strangers, think about it.
Now while the whole story is nowhere near complete, here is the first chapter hope you enjoy:
Adventuring’s a Payne, Log1: In the Niche of Time
Chapter 1: Arrival
Cornerbrook stood like a head of a rusty nail, the brown and grey of its walls contrasting to the green fields and the clear blue waters around it. Standing near the junction of two major rivers had also allowed the city to stand out as a popular hub for traders and travelers. For many this would be the first stop on a long road towards gold, glory, affluence and adventure.
Lok Lucian adjusted his robes and centered the holy symbol of [godname1] he wore around his neck. As he followed the small crowd heading to the city’s east gate, Lok examined each member of the diverse group of travelers, mentally checking if they seemed a good mark or a bleeding heart. The first one worth noting was a fellow elf, a noble-looking female from a different settlement. She wore an unfamiliar symbol consisting of three equal triangles meeting at their points, one of which appeared to be a blue sapphire. “Hmm, she’s either a rich little princess or a naive young priestess. Could be useful.” The thought brought a smile to Lok’s face as he turned to regard the next pair of travelers.
“And what a strange pair indeed.” The larger of duo was a rugged, almost savage, looking dragonkin female with dark copper-to gold scales and a large axe strapped to her back. She had a look of bored indifference as her companion, a female tortoise-fur felikin(catfolk) with a look of a sailor, prattled on about needing a drink and the merits of ale vs. rum. “A drunken island cat and a barbarous dragon-brute? Shouldn’t be too difficult to garner a bit of coin off of them.”
The last figure, just a short ways behind and towering over Lok, was a well-armed and sharp-eyed goliath, tall mountain-folk believed to be descended from giants. They had granite-like skin and a tendency to be competitive, if Lok’s memory was accurate. “You know what? Pass. Not gonna touch that one with a 10-foot pole. I’d need a stepladder just to reach his purse and he’s probably a tight a – ”
“AHHH!”, suddenly there was commotion down the road, Lok picked up his pace.
. . .
The three thugs laughed as the old farmer landed with a cry and a bloodied face. As Zolda Hyreignia ran up to assist she saw the crude roadblock made from two overturned wagons, one of which was on fire. One of the ruffians, a dim-looking human wearing patchmeal leather armour and a bandana over long greasy hair, pointed his rudimentary, oversized club at the gathering crowd, “Now yus get it? Dis ‘ere road belongs ta us. An’ no ones getting’ through. Leas’ naut fer free,“ the thug snorted and laughed as his two companions, a shorter balding man with a pair of rusty worn daggers and a brutish half-orc carrying two axes, walked up to join him. Kneeling down near the old man and offering a quick prayer for the goddesses to ease his pain, Zolda glared at the three miscreants on the road. The look caught the eyes of the short man who took a few steps forward her.
“Well-well well what ‘ave we ‘ere? Looks like we got a pri-ty li’l elfling. You lost sweet’art?” He began circling her like a hungry vulture, Zolda had to hold her breath at the smell of his sour breath as he leaned in close. He eyed the jeweled pendant, a symbol of her devotion to her goddess, hanging from her neck and pointed at it with his meager dirty blade, “Eh, tha’s a nice chain ya gots there. I think tha boss’ud like that. Now, pay the toll or pay the price, get it?” With a silent prayer for forgiveness Zolda reached for the handle of the blade hidden beneath her cloak.
“Pardon me,” The voice startled both her and the mugger, “I didn’t even hear his approach,” she thought as she looked over her shoulder. The short statured elf standing behind her wore crude priest vestments and held out a simple wooden box as he continued. “You gents seem to be collecting a bit of coin. Would you mind sparing some alms for the poor?”
The taller man quickly walks up laughing, “Alms eh? Don’t know ‘bout givin alms. But I can give ya ma foot!” With a sudden hard swing, the thug planted a kick straight on the bottom of the alms container, which caused it to collide with Lok’s jaw. The blow knocked him back and set him sprawled out on the ground. Zolda winced, “Ooo, right in the box.”
. . .
Serena looked over at the scuffle and then down at her “drinking buddy” Hekeeli, “Should we help?” The dragonkin’s hands moved to the massive axe strapped to her back but the felikin didn’t even slow her pace and walked around the other side of the little barricade.
“Nah. Looks like the point-ears ‘ve got it handled lass. Now hurry the ales’re calling me.” It might have been her imagination but Serena swore she heard her friend purr when she said the word ale. Suddenly Hekeeli stopped and her ears twitched, she looked around then up at the guard tower. There was a lot of shouting and movement up there.
. . .
Using the distraction to her advantage Zolda drew her rapier and thrust it through the short lout’s chest, dropping him to the ground. “You little bitch!” In an attempt at retribution the big thug raised his bloodied club and swung it high over his head to try and crush the young elvish lady. “Gunna get yu fer tha-aagh!” The man coughed up blood and collapsed to his knees as he grasped the bolt that had just pierced his throat. Both Zolda and Lok looked back up the road and saw the goliath holding a heavy crossbow and loading another bolt. The remaining half-orc goon went wide-eyed seeing his two allies brought down in seconds. Hastily, he tossed his axes at the gathering adventurers and ran south towards the river. The axes found no target but arrows found their way to the fleeing brute as both elves drew their bows and let shots fly. The arrows bit into the scoundrel’s shoulder and leg causing him to tumble for a moment but the tenacity of his orcish blood allowed him to shrug off the wounds and continue running. The mountain-man stepped up besides the elves and leveled his weapon and took aim, “I got him.” As he squeezed the triggerbar screaming could be heard from the guard tower.
*BOOM*
Well, that's it for now. Let me know what you think or where I could improve.
I will update this as more chapters are complete . . . unless I forget . . . or the players quit.
Not sure if anybody is even gonna read this, but I've slowly been turning my gaming group's campaign into a short novella.
After some encouraging words from the group themselves, I decided to try posting it here,
(you know, to check i they were just blowing smoke up their DM's butt so I'd drop in a few more items), and see what you, total strangers, think about it.
Now while the whole story is nowhere near complete, here is the first chapter hope you enjoy:
Adventuring’s a Payne, Log1: In the Niche of Time
Chapter 1: Arrival
Cornerbrook stood like a head of a rusty nail, the brown and grey of its walls contrasting to the green fields and the clear blue waters around it. Standing near the junction of two major rivers had also allowed the city to stand out as a popular hub for traders and travelers. For many this would be the first stop on a long road towards gold, glory, affluence and adventure.
Lok Lucian adjusted his robes and centered the holy symbol of [godname1] he wore around his neck. As he followed the small crowd heading to the city’s east gate, Lok examined each member of the diverse group of travelers, mentally checking if they seemed a good mark or a bleeding heart. The first one worth noting was a fellow elf, a noble-looking female from a different settlement. She wore an unfamiliar symbol consisting of three equal triangles meeting at their points, one of which appeared to be a blue sapphire. “Hmm, she’s either a rich little princess or a naive young priestess. Could be useful.” The thought brought a smile to Lok’s face as he turned to regard the next pair of travelers.
“And what a strange pair indeed.” The larger of duo was a rugged, almost savage, looking dragonkin female with dark copper-to gold scales and a large axe strapped to her back. She had a look of bored indifference as her companion, a female tortoise-fur felikin(catfolk) with a look of a sailor, prattled on about needing a drink and the merits of ale vs. rum. “A drunken island cat and a barbarous dragon-brute? Shouldn’t be too difficult to garner a bit of coin off of them.”
The last figure, just a short ways behind and towering over Lok, was a well-armed and sharp-eyed goliath, tall mountain-folk believed to be descended from giants. They had granite-like skin and a tendency to be competitive, if Lok’s memory was accurate. “You know what? Pass. Not gonna touch that one with a 10-foot pole. I’d need a stepladder just to reach his purse and he’s probably a tight a – ”
“AHHH!”, suddenly there was commotion down the road, Lok picked up his pace.
. . .
The three thugs laughed as the old farmer landed with a cry and a bloodied face. As Zolda Hyreignia ran up to assist she saw the crude roadblock made from two overturned wagons, one of which was on fire. One of the ruffians, a dim-looking human wearing patchmeal leather armour and a bandana over long greasy hair, pointed his rudimentary, oversized club at the gathering crowd, “Now yus get it? Dis ‘ere road belongs ta us. An’ no ones getting’ through. Leas’ naut fer free,“ the thug snorted and laughed as his two companions, a shorter balding man with a pair of rusty worn daggers and a brutish half-orc carrying two axes, walked up to join him. Kneeling down near the old man and offering a quick prayer for the goddesses to ease his pain, Zolda glared at the three miscreants on the road. The look caught the eyes of the short man who took a few steps forward her.
“Well-well well what ‘ave we ‘ere? Looks like we got a pri-ty li’l elfling. You lost sweet’art?” He began circling her like a hungry vulture, Zolda had to hold her breath at the smell of his sour breath as he leaned in close. He eyed the jeweled pendant, a symbol of her devotion to her goddess, hanging from her neck and pointed at it with his meager dirty blade, “Eh, tha’s a nice chain ya gots there. I think tha boss’ud like that. Now, pay the toll or pay the price, get it?” With a silent prayer for forgiveness Zolda reached for the handle of the blade hidden beneath her cloak.
“Pardon me,” The voice startled both her and the mugger, “I didn’t even hear his approach,” she thought as she looked over her shoulder. The short statured elf standing behind her wore crude priest vestments and held out a simple wooden box as he continued. “You gents seem to be collecting a bit of coin. Would you mind sparing some alms for the poor?”
The taller man quickly walks up laughing, “Alms eh? Don’t know ‘bout givin alms. But I can give ya ma foot!” With a sudden hard swing, the thug planted a kick straight on the bottom of the alms container, which caused it to collide with Lok’s jaw. The blow knocked him back and set him sprawled out on the ground. Zolda winced, “Ooo, right in the box.”
. . .
Serena looked over at the scuffle and then down at her “drinking buddy” Hekeeli, “Should we help?” The dragonkin’s hands moved to the massive axe strapped to her back but the felikin didn’t even slow her pace and walked around the other side of the little barricade.
“Nah. Looks like the point-ears ‘ve got it handled lass. Now hurry the ales’re calling me.” It might have been her imagination but Serena swore she heard her friend purr when she said the word ale. Suddenly Hekeeli stopped and her ears twitched, she looked around then up at the guard tower. There was a lot of shouting and movement up there.
. . .
Using the distraction to her advantage Zolda drew her rapier and thrust it through the short lout’s chest, dropping him to the ground. “You little bitch!” In an attempt at retribution the big thug raised his bloodied club and swung it high over his head to try and crush the young elvish lady. “Gunna get yu fer tha-aagh!” The man coughed up blood and collapsed to his knees as he grasped the bolt that had just pierced his throat. Both Zolda and Lok looked back up the road and saw the goliath holding a heavy crossbow and loading another bolt. The remaining half-orc goon went wide-eyed seeing his two allies brought down in seconds. Hastily, he tossed his axes at the gathering adventurers and ran south towards the river. The axes found no target but arrows found their way to the fleeing brute as both elves drew their bows and let shots fly. The arrows bit into the scoundrel’s shoulder and leg causing him to tumble for a moment but the tenacity of his orcish blood allowed him to shrug off the wounds and continue running. The mountain-man stepped up besides the elves and leveled his weapon and took aim, “I got him.” As he squeezed the triggerbar screaming could be heard from the guard tower.
*BOOM*
Well, that's it for now. Let me know what you think or where I could improve.
I will update this as more chapters are complete . . . unless I forget . . . or the players quit.