When I was young, my best friends were Jader and Thoril BearCharger. Today, our boyhood games of imagined war and high adventure became a reality. I was thrilled to find that the bonds we had forged through games, humor and Jader’s youthful pranks translated excellently to the battlefield. Jader’s headstrong will, however, got him into a bit too much trouble, leading to two losses of consciousness. Thankfully, I had a wand of healing. It would seem my destiny to get him out of trouble. Thoril proved trusty as ever, though, how shall I put this…exceedingly cautious.
More interestingly, our new companions, Xanadu and Hrolf, fit miraculously well into our group. I would never have thought myself one to befriend a barbarian, but Hrolf seems different from the stories I’ve heard. His natural power and ability with an axe (indeed he wielded it such that seemed not to be a weapon, but an extension of his arm) left our Gobilin enemies in crumbled, bloody heaps (those whose bodies remained whole). And Xanadu, a lithe, sarcastic Elf, proved the hero of the day. Her mind is as sharp as her eye. Our foes, including skeletons and a reefclaw (I was no help in either battle), fell, albeit gradually, to her magical proficiency.
The dungeon we explored was a thing of curious beauty. Well, the dungeon was murky and smelled of rot, but the things we found WITHIN the dungeon, now they were sights to see. A gleaming obelisk, a shimmering fountain and even the throne of the Goblin King Fatmouth (until Hrolf’s…enthusiasm reduced it to crumbs) drew my gaze until either Hrolf knocked me into a wall while barreling past me, or a hearty shout from the half-elf brothers shook me to reality. And once, Xanadu smacked me in the back of the head to tear my gaze away from the fountain. But the smile she wore after seemed not harsh, but…well, it’s not for discussion here.
As a humble servant of Shelyn, however, I must be honest. Though we found Banughast, a sword of dragonsbane, and I asked to wield it…I dropped it. While fighting a black dragon. Between eyerolls and poorly-disguised remarks, Xanadu shot Acid Splash after Acid Splash at the beast, singing its wings and burning its skin. While Hrolf alternated between hiding and dropping his own weapon, Jader fought gallantly, but he soon fell unconscious. Thoril loosed a few arrows, but fear seemed to overtake him, as most of his shots fell short (or just fell). I concede the credit to our victory to Xanadu. I must now turn my eyes back to my companions, as the aroma of the brothers’ stew dances in the air around me. I sense more adventures on the horizon. I hope for new and stronger friendships to be found under the reddening sun as well. I like these new friends.
I need to clean my shield.