D and December 2017: Week 4 - Day 5(Belated)

5- Power of the Divine

Casting consecrate which drops a bunch of orcs, and also a half the party, who were 

not good-aligned

The party was at a military outpost at the edge of the kingdom, when an orc raiding party ambushed the encampment and attempted to kidnap the Commander.
Through the course of the encounter, everything on the board had damage on it, PC's & baddies included.

A squad of the orcs were carrying off the unconscious commander, and were nearing the gate.
The cleric looked around and thought, yes, this is my time.

(Pathfinder rules) he dropped a Holy Smite on the group of orcs carrying their hostage, which also included the rest of the party. All of whom were Neutral aligned, except for the Cavalier, so EVERYTHING(Except the Cavalier and the unconscious Commander) in the 20ft radius had to make saves, and took various amounts of damage.

After a moment of making saves against their own cleric's spell, the rogue(of course) expressed incredulity ("What the Fuck, Pablo!?") to which he plainly replied " maybe if they were better people, they wouldn't have gotten hurt."
The Cavalier did not help either with something along the lines of "see!? Pick a side. Stop with all the neutral crap. Dedicate to a cause, like me!"

D and December 2017: Week 4 - Day 4(Belated)

4- Trinkets and Treasures

one copper piece, given to myself, that I kept in my hat, that was 5 feet tall

The infamous bard, Ran Dansin (the first, the original), had a top hat that was a relic won from the Mad Hatter on another plane, after the Mad Hatter let it slip there was more than one of them in existence, he was able to ask for one as compensation for besting him at tea/chess.
There was a 70% chance to pull out a random mundane item, 20% to pull out a random uncommon item, 5% a rare, and last 5% truly unique item.
Over the course of a campaign this hat provided, smelly cheese, a perfect red rose, a flask of water, shards of glass, a swarm of sturges, an assortment of Jackalopes, and a wee-jeenie.

One time, Ran was pulled into the hat, and plopped into the hand of a giant. This giant looked just like him. The Giant Ran proceeded to jab at him and say, "I wish for greater physical prowess, specifically Strength, Dexterity & Constitution, much as a magical tome might provide".
Ran replied "I can not grant you this, for I am but a traveler, and have not the ability to bestow it."
"What!?" exclaimed the Giant Ran. "You're not a wee-jeenie?"
"No, I'm Ran Dansin, Troubadour Extra-Ordinare"
"So am I, and each time I've reached into this hat, I've pulled out a wee-jeenie"
"Really? All I get is bullshit."
"Oh, that's too bad."
"Hey, as one Ran to another, don't suppose you could spare some money? Gold, gems, that sort of thing?"
"How does a copper sound" asked the Giant Ran, producing an immense copper coin.
"Sounds fine"! Original Ran lashed it with rope, tied on end to his wrist like a surf board, and was placed back in the Hat.
They kept it hooked to the brim of the hat(from the inside) till they were able to find a smithy that broke it into bars and paid them in platinum for it's worth.

D and December 2017: Week 4 - Day 3(Belated)

3- Arcane Casting

Smell the magic

I'm a fan of casters of all flavors. The ability to manipulate -other- forces in the universe is a fascinating thing to embody.

But, one of my favorite "magic" abilities, was that somehow, it became a joke that one of my Bards could detect magic via olfactory senses. It would result in various schools having aromas with a plethora of notes depending on caster, alignment, and resulting spell.
It became such a prevalent house rule, through most of 3.5, across multiple Groups (and into Pathfinder, if I recall) any full or half-human with the last name "Dansin"(or at least this bloodline) had to burn a/take the feat to gain Detect Magic if they didn't have it from the class, to denote this heritage (Arcane Talent for Pathfinder & Mystic Atunment? for 3.5)

Every so often it still comes up, asking if it *sniff sniff* reeks of conjuration, *big inhale - cough * Illusion. *gak*

D and December 2017: Week 4 - Day 2(Belated)

2- Mimic/Trap

“Today I prepared Explosive Runes . . .”

Many years of playing & Gming, you create, steal & encounter numerous traps, some even become punch lines (as above).
That exact joke ran for years in a game, and never happened.
So, I decided it must be executed.
An Admantine Spellbook, with false "pages", that contained an actual spellbook (like a book safe), but the first "page" had Explosive Runes cast on it, so it could blow up in the holder's face and not damage the actual spellbook locked inside.

Similarly, having a delayed fireball as part of a treasure chest or secure room is a ton of fun as the group thinks they got past the trap, only to realize it had been sprung.

Another favorite is the "invisible wall".
It bisects a room or hallway, it's dimensions are 2 feet off the ground to 8 feet off the ground.
The trick is to describe it so that the party has to think about it/try different ways to "see"/work with the wall, to get over or under it.
This can be expanded as desired for more insidious uses (making the wall "deeper" so they have to crawl under for a distance, or across the top of it, place items or creatures in it/around it, etc)

Divining Game: Part One

A recount & impressions of my introduction to, and then first game of, Monocle Society's pseudo Card-Based/Digital RPG: Weave.

For those who may not know, I am a voracious fan & supporter of Penny Arcade and most of it's projects. Including Acquisitions Incorporated, as I've been following the main game since the first podcast and anticipating episode 3 of season 2 of the C-Team. As well as PATV in general, as I long to attend a PAX(I watch the above mentioned games, Jackbox, Q&A's & the vignettes) and the wife & I were glued weekly to our screens for the entire season of Strip Search.
With that in mind, I don't usually watch the live-streams of board games or video games, as I lean towards curated content.
However, I saw the tag line "Storytelling Redefined" and the very schmexy artwork for Weave, so moused over the vid.



Tycho & Eric as players were a good indicator, it was likely to be an RPG, and then Tycho said "Tarot" and the young, stifled, darkling portion of my tired, jaded heart skipped. I saw phones were involved to scan the cards, with a visually engaging app interface, and was hooked.
I watched the entire episode in one go, and the next day, when hanging out with my friend, fellow GM and "weekend co-warrior", LoL(Nickname) I blathered on about the cool RPG using phones, dice & a Tarot deck.
Next I knew, LoL was hosting a New Years Eve party, and had ordered Weave for us to play that night. She'd also watched the PA Stream, to my surprise, so was also hooked. (Shout out to Kyle, the man with the Weave tattoo, for helping get us the game on time for the new-years shindig!).
And so, we played . . . .

D and December 2017: Week 4 - Day 1(Belated)

Week 4 - Magic, Items, and Enchantment

1- A Magic Weapon

Bob, Ned, Ziggy

House Rule, as of our 3.0e days -

Should any item be of +3 power or higher (such as armor, weapons or items of equal 

cost/power to create) it was to be named, either when purchased/created by a PC, or 

by the GM before granting it to the players/NPC’s.

Some Favorites Include -

“The Ziggler” - a +1, keen, quicksilvered Elven Court Blade, which was a 2 hander with base 

18-20 crit, wielded by a Duelist with Improved Crit. As our group understood it on 3.0(later 

fixed in 3.5) the crit bonuses stacked, so a roll of 11 or higher threatened a crit (Keen 

doubled a weapons threat, as did Improved Crit, so we added those, and quicksilvered gave 

1 more to the range, 20-3-3-3-1=11)

“ Jackamo’s Last Laugh “ - was a paired brace of rapiers with Dueling, Greyflame & “impact” 

which was a homebrew to give the equivalent of fiery/frost, but as force damage(such as a 

Magic Missile). The two swords sat in the same scabbard as they seemed to be just one, 

unless unhooked, which took a move action, or a slight of hand check.

“Ned” - Colossal sized, +3 sap. This was the weapon of a Barbarian in our “Shenanigans 

Campaign” that was his punching bag with a smiley face painted on it.

And

A +2, returning, thundering, boomerang - “Stunbob the Stop Stick”

D and December 2017: Week 3 - Day 7(Belated)

day 7- free space

realms, planes, interstellar, ports, spelljammer, hall of worlds, the tavern between (Honest 

John’s)

The following is a transcript of a brief description of the ‘Planet Wight’ by the 

Arch-Thaumaturge Dov Zulgraque and his subsequent assembling of the Voyagers -

“ The being was massive, and even that is an understatement.

This creature literally consumed worlds through osmosis as it trekked across whichever 

celestial body it drifted into. Pulling up earth and spirit as it made its way across the 

surface.

Only through luck, do I believe I was able to learn of it in time, possess the power to act as 

I did, and amass the rewards I was able to offer the Heroes as compensation for aiding 

me in it’s destruction.

I started at Honest John’s, the tavern between the doors in the Hall of Worlds, as I knew 

this would at least set a bar for any I might interact with to have a certain amount of 

power or wit to have gotten there in the first place. I was also able to consult several 

seers & oracles to scour the planes & realities for the optimal candidates.

Once selected, I invited &/or teleported the team to John’s, and provided them with info 

& offerings. Whatever Gods or Fates there are or were, smiled upon me, as they 

accepted the task.

We were to commit the most fantastic act, a voyage into the ‘Planet Wight’ and destroy 

it from the inside. One of them, Baldric the bard, even suggested we call ourselves 

The Voyagers in honor of the quest, and so it was to be.

We were successful in opening a rift inside it, and went to work.

For laborious detail, I recommend Baldric’s Books, Songs, Poetry or Plays, as they 

document it well, mostly.

We; Baldric the bard, Fastidious the warlock, Grock the barbarian, Tod the paladin, 

Robin of Locksley, and Faeodwyn the druid, managed to complete the following tasks:

- Befoul the Ever Hungry Belly of the Beast

- Break the Heart that was Hard as Stone

- Shatter the Mind that had Known Lifetimes

Truly harrowing, indeed. But, as the insatiable behemoth crumbled into dust to be 

spread across the cosmos, we had each survived. I paid them gladly what I had 

offered, and more. Returned those who wished to be sent to their homes, and brought 

those who wished to stay on this grateful planet to our capitol.

And so here we are, decades later, in pithy war once more over territorial squabbles, as 

if our greatest doom had not presented itself in the lifetime of those who sit in power.

And let me also add . . . . “

The following can be read in the index of ‘Zulrague’s Treatise on the State of the State’ 

which was the inspiration for that paper.

D and December 2017: Week 3 - Day 6(Belated)

day 6- Sigil/planar

Divine. Inevitables?

The following . . . script . .  was translated from a collection of crystal sheets donated to the
local temple upon the return of the home-town hero, a Paladin of some renown. Although
many of the sheets now serve as windows/scripture to said temple, this one, among a few
others, remains in the cellar, among other such oddities, as they are not considered, useful
or appropriate for ritual on a regular basis -

" Being a being of pure light isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Being a being of pure light bound to 

an even bigger being of pure light definitely has its challenges.

My name in the common tongue is “ the first caress of light that signals the ingress of 

divine radiance” but the shorthand of all that in Celestial I usually use is "Carl”.

I, Carl, am an Inevitable, bound by cosmic law to commit one act with unwavering duty. I 

am bound to the Inevitable “Thrimka” again, a short hand name. It’s full name in the 

Common tongue is a whole pile of divine verse, so I’ll save us both some time & not repeat 

it here.

I am Thrimka’s herald, or as I like to call myself, the Inevitable’s inevitable.

Over the aeons the two of us have worked out a system based on our strengths. I track 

down the entity whom is the subject of Thrimka’s latest appointment, herald their impending

interaction, and try to strike a deal to prevent the subject from a short, sticky, white-fiery 

ending, and from me having to scour mortal remnant char from Thrimka’s eight foot sword. 

It has, a lot, of small crevices with all those golden crenelations.

I now embody the phrase, “don’t shoot the messenger”, so being able to manifest as pure 

light helps in most cases.

However, please, do yourself a favor. If you ever see me, or anyone like me, addressing you, 

or a loved one, ya done fucked up. The best thing you can do at that time, is help me, help 

you, not become a small, sad blotch on a glowing codpiece. "

D and December 2017: Week 3 - Day 5(Belated)

day 5- Cities, castles & towns

URBAN ADVENTRE

" If an army marches on its stomach, than a Castle sits on it’s ass.

It’s filthy, revolting, and you need to bathe every day for a week before a lass will even come 

near ya again. But there is no surer way to bring down a fortification than through it’s shitter. 

Literally.

In large, posh, foppish estates, those dandies who lead from the back want a cushy place to 

drop their waste cause they don’t want anyone to think it stinks, and then doesn’t give a 

second thought to where it goes, or what might come up that same route.

The number of times me and a crew of dead-men have crawled up a latrine and taken 

enough hostages to bring the entire keep to it’s knees, not to mention the smell, ha! Good 

pay all around.

For larger compounds, like a city, then there’s entire sewers. Usually you can get the local 

riff-raff in on it, as they’re eager to get the battle or siege over with, so they can get back to 

cracking heads & picking pockets. They already live in the filth, they don’t care who’s got run 

up top, usually. And if not, again, just barreling through with enough well trained dog-eaters 

and they give you wide enough berth you can run the entire under-city, like you please.

Even smaller encampments, like a wood fort or a small town with a high ranking figure, 

they’re so used to doing their business outside the border, give em a week to let it pile up. If 

they’re clever, they’ll fling it out at you. Either way, the more clever way is to throw it right 

back, with some of your own. 

Hard to keep everything clean when you don’t know whether to shit or go blind.

The realities of warfare are often cold, gross and stink, and that’s tactical knowledge you 

can count on.

- Gulliver Velmot, Sapper & Saboteur. Special Tasks, 37th Imperial Regiment

D and December 2017: Week 3 - Day 4(Belated)

day 4 - Sword Coast
trade routes/bandits
"Gentleman of Fortune? No. More of a 'Fortunate Gentleman.' "

An excerpt from 'The Journal of Morrick Midland Meadmonger as Life Lessons to His Children Should He Not Be There to Give Them':

" Life is nothing but making deals.
For instance, that stormy season I was dragging blast powder to the Baron up north, and then turning around and dragging Singleaf to the Duke down south.
Gods blessed me and blessed those boys it was not on my way up north, as who knows what sort of welcome I would have given them, or what sort of trouble they would have gotten into, had I had a baker's dozen barrels of top grade explosive dust that trip.
No, this time I was headed south, and had dried Singleaf piled higher than a half orc, barely held down by my tarp to keep from crushing the goods, but so they wouldn't fly away in a stiff wind either. (See previous entries on "chasing Singleaf in your small-clothes, a lesson in weather & proper packaging of goods.")
I was traveling the Queen's Road as that was the only road, the shortest route, and it was the stormy season as mentioned above, and I didn't need Stubbsworth to get mired in a slurry. (Stubbsworth is my mule. I hope you get to meet him, as he adores children, but who can guess when you will arrive and how long he has, such is the way of the world.)
There had not been one breath of thieves on the road for years, but with the Baron gearing up for war, many of the usual patrols were not being posted. So I wasn't aware I was being robbed until the man in the middle of the road pointed his crossbow at me and said "Your complacency or grievancey, either way we get your GP. What'll it be?"
I was taken aback. Not just because the rhyme was ridiculous "G.P.?" As in Gold Pieces, who says such a thing? But because this lad couldn't even grow a beard, let alone be a brigand. I must have been agape at this half-grown highwayman, as he then said "Alright boys, drag him down." And a small crew of others, armed with kitchen knives & grain sickles, came warily out of the wood.
"wait, wait, wait. Now just wait a second" I bellowed. If you know me at all, I should hope you know I can be heard over a crowded tavern, and I hope you never cause me to shout at you in such a manner. And that stopped em all in their tracks.
" What is all this? A hold-up? Really? On the -Queens- Road!?" I saw a few falter at the mention of Her Highness. Yellow bellied blowhards. But there was still a whole gang of em.
"Yes. And hand over all you've got or we will take it by force" the leader doubled down.
"Oh, Really?" I replied. "Now think about this, lads. You rob me, let me live, I make it back to town & tell the Duke. Half a company is back down this way to weed you out. Or, you kill me, my shipment doesnt show up, and the same thing happens. Sound good?"
"You shut your trap, old man!" Real clever one, the leader was. "Pull him down!"
I looked the closest one in the eye. Still remember him. Chubby little git, looked hungrier than a street-dog 2 days after a festival with dumb blue irises, holding a meat cleaver way too far back on the handle like it would bite him. Quietly and calmly, I said to him, but still loud enough everyone around could hear, " how would you like proper weapons?"
"buh, I uh. Buh, whuh, huh?" Kid was also a charmer. Must have been related to the leader.
I whipped around, side-glancing at the leader who let the tip of the crossbow dip, and addressed another, " Or steady pay?"
They all had stopped by now.
I looked the leader square in the eye.
"And 3 meals a day?"
From behind me I heard "how? There's no jobs and the Duke doesnt care about the poor!"
A few "yeah" 's followed and the leader's bolt was drifting back up towards my face.
"That may be true, currently. But you lads have made it apparent there IS a job market, and are already working for the Duke & Baron, for FREE."
That really had them confused. Good. I had em then. "Obviously, these roads are unsafe, unpatrolled by our brave soldiers who go to fight the tyrant to the north. But you lads, with the assistance of a merchant with some standing in the Duke AND Baron's court," I pointed to myself and winked in the silliest manner I could "could bend an ear or two, to perhaps set up a toll for all who travel this road, to ensure safe, unmolested travel. And, now, who could do such a thing? Travel up & down this stretch of trail from one keep to another, making sure nothing goes awry? Hrrmmm?"
"Sure. Until the war ends, and the regulars come back to do the job, then what?" The leader wasnt as dumb as he looked.
"Hahaha," I stalled for a moment. "No. If 'lowly' peasants," I gestured to myself as well, all about camaraderie "are doing the work already, it would be beneath a noble soldier of the Queen's Army. Also, after a war, might not be as many soldiers left to do the job . . ." I trailed of at a fairly high pitch.
I could see them all thinking now. Looked like it hurt for some of them.
"Great, then." I barked, startling a few who looked like they didn't know whether to find an outhouse or a healer. "Come on. Least I can do is feed & bathe you lot before meeting the Duke's Chancellor to keep you from getting thrown back onto the road before your employed to patrol it."
I tutted at Stubbsworth who had remained stoic through all this. Stubbsworth snorted & began to toddle forwards. This action startled the leader out of whatever reverie he was in and stammered "buh, I uh, uh . . ." Told you, brother of that husky one to my right, no doubt.
And THAT was how the Singleaf Highway Patrol was founded, and why myself, nor any of my direct descendants must pay tolls along that route.
You're welcome. "

D and December 2017: Week 3 - Day 3(Belated)

Day 3 - Forests/Wilds
that tree has a door in it? Elves!

What is in those woods?
Adventure? Death?
We stalked it wearing Hoods
and scarves to hide our breath.

We hunted nobles & merchants,
Our trophies; goods & gold.
We laughed around our fire.
We should not have been so bold.

The kings men came
But the trees continued on.
Deeper we hid among them
And noted fewer faun.

Dirt floor turned to muck.
We knew it was swamp farther back.
We ignored the silly tales of monsters,
Until the night the stars blinked black.

The noose dangled in the path behind us,
something else lay ahead.
We split up the next day.
Tough to choose how you'll end up dead.

"The Brigand's Ballad" - Unknown

D and December 2017: Week 3 - Day 2(Belated)

day 2- Underdark

drow, deep crow, lolth

Krella Th'Thriv tensed as thousands of disgusting, eight-legged, spindly vermin swarmed 
over her body. 
She tensed not for herself, but for her best friend, whom she sat astride, Le'Kla, her Deep 
Crow companion.
The two were in the midst of a "cleansing" ritual, required of all servants of the city to ensure 
their continued loyalty & blessing of the Goddess Lolth.
Krella shifted her fingers deeper into the feathers around Le'Kla's neck, re-assuring her only 
friend in this temple dedicated to a thing she did not . . .
No, best not to think it here.
Simply stay calm, and pass that calm to Le'kla as they'd done so many times. In battle, and 
here, under this widow & recluse shower.
The two sat, silently, eyes closed, mouths closed, feeling the small tickles of the countless 
legs scurry over them, waiting for the priestess to summon them off once more.
An eternity of repulsive caress and potentially deadly exploration passed, when finally a 
hissing sound came from their left. The countless legs all tensed & moved as one, 
scuttling down & away from mount and rider.
Krella did not breath easy until she say the last abominable beast skitter off of Le'Kla's 
massive talon. Deep Crow & mounted Drow, both craned their heads to face the head 
Priestess.
Lo'Dotha, half Drow woman, half Spider, Head Priestess of Lolth in the city of Molrua, clicked 
the mandibles that jutted from her jaw. The similarity to a "cluck" of disappointment was 
apparent to all. "You are still blessed by Our Mistress, child of Th'Thriv. And so is your servant. 
Very good," Lo'Dotha drolly intoned, dropping her crossed arms, resting the palms on her 
front-most legs. "Complete the blessing. So they may return to the outer caverns and 
continue their," there was a pregnant pause, "vigilant guard of our beloved home."
A small chorus of voices all replied, "Yes, Mother."
"Thank you, Mother" Krella replied with rehearsed reverence as she nudged Le'Kla to also 
bow & lift her feathers in what most would interpret as a show of subservience.
Krella stifled a smile as one of the newest acolytes had to duck or be clocked by Le'Kla's 
massive primary feather.
Lo'Dotha's legs clacked against the black marble of the temple as she slowly turned in 
place. Her only acknowledgment of the deference paid her, one hand held up as she clicked 
her way towards the back of the main hall of the chapel and the doors that lead out.
A whimpering noise as well as the sound of flesh being slid against smooth marble followed 
as Lo'Datha's clicking faded in the distance.
The whimpering was that of a gnome, but not the typical svirfneblin found in farther caverns, 
no. This was from the higher places. It was pinkish, pale & purple. A rare and great 
sacrifice to their Goddess. To have it serve as a host for Lolth's children was obvious, but to 
grant Krella the honor of releasing the children from this offering was no small gesture.
This was a public show of approval, but was it genuine? More likely Lo'Dotha assumed, 
correctly, Krella and Le'Kla would be repulsed by having to bathe in the blood of a foreign 
creature whilst the Lolth-childer scurried about in the dim light for the first time. Making a 
bane from a boon, oh how the clergy love to play little games such as this.
Krella swallowed down the revulsion of so much deceit and politicking. The sooner it was 
done, the sooner her & Le'kla could return to the outer caverns, where the laws of the 
wild reigned. Oh yes, out there was brutality, pain and filth. But it was for survival and 
prosperity, not this gross civility. 
Krella hopped down from Le'Kla, hand still resting on her midnight feathers. She pulled the 
dagger from her boot, sliding her hand along Le'kla's neck, indicating the giant bird should 
stoop down closer to the gnome writhing on the alter before them.
Krella had to look at the gnome for a few moments to see where the parasites were 
currently incubating, as to not cut into those most prized hatchlings.
She placed one hand on the gnomes head, where there did not appear to be anything 
crawling under it's skin. There Le'Kla could bite with her massive four-hinged beak, ending 
the gnome's life swiftly and less likely to damage any of the worshiped vermin.
The gnome made eye contact, and unlike most other hosts at this point, they were not 
glazed over or vacant. They were not simply part of the shell that had been a living creature
with hopes, dreams fears. This gnome whispered, in broken, agonizingly clear Elvish as it 
looked into Krella's soul, "please, quick."
Her survival instincts kicked in, and instead of faltering in any way, as she new any false 
move would be seen as weakness or wavering loyalty to their disgusting deity, she spat 
the verse she had been taught to say from birth, as was her "right" and "privilege" as a Drow 
woman, plunging the knife into the gnome's neck.
The light in it's eyes blinked out so fast Krella almost wondered if it had been there at all. She 
moved the warm fluids over her brow and across the space above Le'Kla's eyes, and it 
wasn't until she heard the soft, low chuckling from the back of the chapel behind her, that she 
was certain of the gnome's words. As, between chuckles, Lo'Dotha, in their own language, 
not the mewling tongue the gnome used, she repeated to Krella, "please, quick."
A small chorus of nervous giggles followed from the others in the room, as Lo'Dotha came 
forth once more. "We jest child. Be grateful. It's pain and spirit are that much more 
delicious gifts to The Mother." Lo'Dotha paused once more. "Now go. The ritual is done. One 
so blessed as you should be doing Her will once more. Let us not delay you further." She 
then clacked backwards, her sickly grey abdomen bobbing as her bulk shifted away from the 
two.
"Thank you, Mother" Krella repeated again. Yet another pause the only stirring were the 
small creatures discovering their new world beyond the body on the alter, and the drip, drip 
of it's water falling to the reflective floor.
"KYAAH!" Krella cried, jumping as Le'Kla dipped its head to meet her rider.
Le'Kla spread her wings wide in the vacuous space of the church, herself jumping to gain 
height as she flapped, clearing the floor, escaping the skittering beasts all about.
Not even brushing the slick black stones of the threshold as she dipped to clear the massive 
doorway. Using the air pressure of the dive to launch herself up and away from that place of 
revolting excess.

D and December 2017: Week 3 - Day 1(Belated)

D and December 2017: Week 3 - Day 1(Belated)

Week 3 - Realms and Planes

Day 1- Feywild/shadowfell

pixies, shadowrealm

"When I was but a lad, not yet half as tall as I am now. I fell in love with a Brownie.

Playing in the woods outside the town, I came across this tiny little girl in a drab rag of a dress, 
too many freckles, and a smile much too wide for her head.
I asked her name, and she asked the same back, so I said 'me first' and she again replied the same.
So I pointed at myself and said 'Jaxon'. She pointed to herself and said the same.
So I pointed to her and said 'you?'
She giggled, a laugh too deep for her frame, and she said 'you', and clapped.
I clapped as well, though who knows what for, as I didn't know if that was her name or if she even
spoke common. But I waved bye as I ran back home.
We met again at the same tree several times over the course of a week, and I would talk & talk at her,
she would only reply by repeating a word back now and then. The best friend a child with too many
words in their head, to have really.
Except for one day, she had the big grin once again, and started talking to me. 
She supplied my young mind with countless brilliant ideas, as well as plans for how to enact them.
We set off for town.
This was going to be great.
Needless to say, after a full day of terrible pranks & near death injuries as a result, I was belted 
into tears and nearly sent to the closest chapel for a proper cleric to exorcise me. 
The Brownie disappeared as soon as I was caught, no honor among thieves, and did not return
until the next day, my eyes still filled with tears and my backside still stinging.
She left again, as a crying boy rubbing his rump is not so much fun, and I never saw her again.
Only years later, did I learn what she was, and was lucky for the small lesson I was taught. "