Fiction based on my ongoing solo D&D campaign, set loosely in Mystara using Basic Dungeons & Dragons (1983) and Mythic Gamesmaster Emulator (2nd Edition).
The orcs surrounded the four adventurers, crushing them together until they were fighting back-to-back. None of the companions spoke; their drained features and heavy breath said all that needed saying. Huge rents cut deep into Ty's shield as he deflected blow after blow.
‘How many are left?’ he managed to gasp. A quick riposte had downed another orc, giving him chance to catch his breath.
‘Too many,’ came Prism's laboured reply.
Up until now her uncanny ability to dodge and swerve had kept her alive, but as the orcs continued to hem them in, she was finding it more and more difficult to find enough space for that to work. Her leather armour was ripped in several places, and her dagger had been long since lost to the fight. Where he could, Ancelyn protected the thief with his shield, but even when their eyes occasionally met, he still refused to look at her. Prism had no idea why but had no chance to dwell on it either.
‘Lady Lliira, grant me the joy of victory and give me the strength to vanquish my foes.’  Â
Prism marveled at Ayelen's ability to say all of that and still continue fighting. Though to be fair, the cleric was definitely struggling. They all were. It was only a matter of time before...
‘No,’ Prism snarled, thrusting her short sword with the last of her energy. To her right, Ty's knees buckled and his shield dropped, just a fraction. But it was enough to allow an orc blade to pierce his side. The fighter howled - in anger as much as in pain. Another orc struck him. And another. His armour bore the brunt of most of it, but blood was seeping out from between the plates.
‘Ty!’ Prism cried. By the gods, this is it! This is really it.
Her heart began to pound so hard her entire body trembled with each beat. She saw the orc's blade slowly coming towards her, as if it were cutting through thick cloth rather than thin air. The flames from the manor house caused metal to glint and gleam as the sword moved towards its intended target, gradually descending with the inevitability of the grave. Prism twisted to the left, but moved with all the speed and grace of someone caught up in a nightmare. Stumbling left, she ricocheted off Ancelyn's shield; the rebound serendipitously saving her life. The blade whistled past her face, scraping long the leather armour covering her shoulder. Prism lashed out with her foot, kicking wildly and hoping for the best. The ad hoc gambit failed to connect, but the squeal of surprise from her opponent was almost as satisfying.
Somewhere behind the party a horn blew; a thunderous, elongated note that drowned out all other sound. The orc Prism had been fighting paused, startled by the sudden noise. The creature's tusked mouth fell open, saliva falling to the floor like rain drops. Distracted thus, the orc dropped its guard, and Prism was about to take advantage of the situation. Before she could, however, a pike impaled her opponent, embedding itself deep into the creature's sternum.
A roaring shout went up; human war cries. Prism turned to see the barricade had been moved aside, and guards were pouring forth from the manor house. Lord Zariel's men crashed into the orcs like a wave crashing into the rocks, taking the pressure off the four companions. And before they knew it, the orcs had been pushed back; Prism, Ancelyn, Ty and Ayelen stood alone in a circle, as still as if they had reached the eye of a hurricane.
‘Quickly,’ a gruff voice called from the barricade. ‘Get inside while you can.’
Ty looked at Prism, his face one of absolute exhaustion. They nodded to one another.
          ‘What are you waiting for Liam?’ Ayelen shouted, the relief evident in her voice. ‘Come on!’
To be continued...
(on Monday 3rd August - It's been a long week at work and I'm knackered. So, I'm taking the weekend off)
If you enjoyed reading this, PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT and/or FOLLOW for more (and RE-BLOG, if you would be so kind). It really would mean a lot to me and be very much appreciated. Thank you.
Disclaimer: No AI was used (or harmed) in the making of this, or any other, blog post. My background is by Larry Elmore and was used as the box cover for the 1983 version of Dungeons & Dragons: Basic Set 1 (and the 2010 D&D 4e Starter Set). My avatar is my ‘V’ from Cyberpunk 2077.
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The orcs charged, bellowing and snarling as they lunged towards the adventurers. Ty shouted his own war cry and ran straight towards the advancing tide. Ayelen soon joined him and, as earlier, the two fought side by side. They make quite a pair, Prism reflected as she ducked into the foliage. Ancelyn drew back his bow and began to thin out the fighter’s and cleric's opponents. His hand and bowstring blurred as he released one arrow after another in rapid succession.
One of the orcs managed to get through the deadly barrage, and Ancelyn's pupil's dilated as the creature raised its weapon to strike. The elf brought up his bow to ward off the oncoming blow, but it was merely kindling compared to the large double-bladed axe descending towards his neck. Ancelyn stood helplessly, as if resigned to his own execution.
The orc howled in triumph...
...And then came crashing to the ground as Prism leapt on his back and stabbed at his ribs with both of her blades. Ancelyn rolled to one side as the mighty axe embedded itself harmlessly into the ground.
‘Are you, all right,’ Prism said as he got to his feet. The elf said nothing, his skin pale and hand trembling slightly as he passed her his bow. His demeanor killed the quick remark Prism had already been preparing. Startled, she took the weapon in silence.
‘That was too close,’ Ancelyn finally managed. ‘Thank you.’
‘You're welcome,’ Prism replied, still caught off guard by his earnestness. The two looked at each other, and for the first time, she saw the man beneath his usual sardonic facade. The moment might have been over in an instant, or it might have lasted for all eternity.
‘Prism...’ Ancelyn began.
‘...Are you going to give me some arrows, or not?’ Although she tried her best, she could not keep the awkwardness out of her voice. The elf's postured changed immediately, and inside, Prism died a little. He handed her his quiver without another word, and drawing his sword, charged towards the oncoming orcs. Prism watched him go, dumbfounded, the bow hanging loosely from her hand.
‘What the hell are you doing back there, Pris!’ shouted Ty. ‘Shoot something, will you?’
The desperation in her friend's voice brought the thief back to reality. Still a little flustered, she nocked an arrow and fired without aiming. Unsurprisingly, the shot went wide. Cursing her own incompetence, Prism tried again. To her relief, the next arrow hit its target, downing an orc trying to flank Ayelen. The cleric nodded gratefully, unable to spare any more of her attention.
Though the party were showing a good account of themselves, more and more orcs were peeling themselves away from the barricade to concentrate on the new threat. Ty was beginning to falter; his armour and shield filled with an array of new rents and furrows, his sword nicked in several places. Ayelen wasn't faring much better either; the swings of her mace were sluggish and ill-timed, easily parried by her opponents. Her usually friendly, open expression had been shorn away to reveal gritted teeth, determination, and a face streaked with sweat.
Ancelyn was the freshest of the trio, and he still fought with a spring in his step. Prism on the other hand, was nursing an aching shoulder that was getting more painful with every shot. I'm definitely getting a new crossbow when we get out of this, she promised herself. But as she nocked the last arrow in Ancelyn's quiver, her morbid streak kicked in: IF we get out of this, it corrected. Prism took the shot and dropped the bow. Drawing her short sword and dagger, she rushed to where her friends were holding the line and took her place alongside them.
To be continued…
If you enjoyed reading this, PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT and/or FOLLOW for more (and RE-BLOG, if you would be so kind). It really would mean a lot to me and be very much appreciated. Thank you.
Disclaimer: No AI was used (or harmed) in the making of this, or any other, blog post. My background is by Larry Elmore and was used as the box cover for the 1983 version of Dungeons & Dragons: Basic Set 1 (and the 2010 D&D 4e Starter Set). My avatar is my ‘V’ from Cyberpunk 2077.
Once carefully manicured gardens smoldered in the rain, spewing thick, acrid clouds over the grounds of the estate. Prism and Ancelyn slowed, the fog-like smoke obscuring their vision and causing both to cough.
‘This isn't natural,’ Ancelyn said as he tried to breathe properly; the humour normally warming his features cooled into sobriety.
‘Bargle?’
The elf nodded. ‘That would be my guess. I'd warrant it's a ruse of some sort, perhaps a cover for his orc mercenaries. We should be cautious.’
‘Make sense,’ Prism agreed. ‘But how are we going to find those two idiots?’
‘By my eyesight, I hope,’ Ancelyn replied.
‘What do you mean?’
‘My people are blessed with a different sort of sight to your own. Human scholars call it infravision, I believe.’
‘And what in the nine hells is that?’
Ancelyn sighed. ‘Sometimes milady, I forget that you are a tad less world-wise than I give you credit for.’
Prism felt her face flush. ‘And sometimes I forget just how far up yourself, you are. Remind me again, how did we first meet? What were the circumstances?’
‘Touche.’
‘Now, if we're done playing, what in the nine hells is 'infravision'?’
‘To put it in milady's terms. In some low light conditions, I can see more clearly than you. There is an aura of heat that surrounds all living things, and my people can see it.’
‘Handy,’ Prism replied, although mentally she was making note of how Ancelyn kept saying my people. She might be imagining things, but there seemed to be a hint of bitterness about the way he said it. ‘Hey, wait a moment... Why didn't you tell us that back in the caves?’
The elf shrugged. ‘It wasn't necessary,’ he said. ‘We had a lantern for most of our journey.’
‘Hpmph. I'll let that go for now, but how will you be able to tell if...’
The sounds of fighting drifted through the smoke, interrupting the thief. Ancelyn raised his brow.
‘Follow me,’ he said confidently. ‘I believe our wayward friends are over this way.’
Who needs infravision? Prism thought as she trotted after her companion. If you ever want to find Ty, just follow the sounds of fighting...
‘Hey, slow down, will you!’ she called after Ancelyn.
They finally found Ty and Ayelen battling against a horde of angry orcs.
‘Kill them all!’ the leader of the creatures screamed at the sight of the newcomers. Couldn’t we just talk about it instead? You know, just for a change, Prism thought as she drew her short sword and dropped into a crouch.
Upon seeing his friends, Ty winked and raised his shield. He motioned Ayelen to do the same. She nodded, but gave one last swing of her mace before following the instruction. The two fought well together, their fighting styles complimenting one another. But they were heavily outnumbered and quickly forced to give ground. Their defensive stance held the orcs in check, long enough for Ancelyn to cast his sleep spell. Only a single orc was left standing, and before it could comprehend its situation, Prism's sword flicked across its jugular, leaving a widening line of blood. The orc fell to its knees clutching at its throat before toppling over.
‘What took you so long?’ Ty said, breaking into a grin.
‘We were trying to be a bit more cautious than you,’ Prism told him, cleaning her blade.
‘And it’s lucky we were,’ said Ancelyn.
Dying screams escaped the tule of artificial fog, vying against the distant clash of steel, and the grunting and squealing of orcs calling to one another.
‘We need to get to Lord Zariel now!’ said Ty.
‘And find Bargle,’ Ayelen countered. ‘That manipulating bastard owes me his head!’And the vehemence of her tone was enough to silence any argument.
By the time they reached the manor house a good portion of it was on fire. Prism shuddered, remembering the fate of her own home as the flames hissed angrily at the rain, their fingers reaching up towards the heavens.
Orcs clustered around a hastily barricaded main entrance like ants, clambering over each other in their eagerness to get inside the burning building. Most of the defenders on the other side of the barricade were using pikes to push back the writhing mass, whilst others peppered the orcs with arrows. One after another, the orcs fell, but caught in the midst of a blood frenzy, they refused to retreat.
‘What do we do now?’ Prism asked.
A rather scrawny orc at the back of the pack answered her question.
‘Reinforcements!’ it cried out before Ancelyn put an arrow in its throat. The shot came too late, however, as several orc heads turned towards the adventurers.
To be continued…
If you enjoyed reading this, PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT and/or FOLLOW for more (and RE-BLOG, if you would be so kind). It really would mean a lot to me and be very much appreciated. Thank you.
Disclaimer: No AI was used (or harmed) in the making of this, or any other, blog post. My background is by Larry Elmore and was used as the box cover for the 1983 version of Dungeons & Dragons: Basic Set 1 (and the 2010 D&D 4e Starter Set). My avatar is my ‘V’ from Cyberpunk 2077.
He crouched beside Prism on a hillock not too far from the main gate to Lord Zariel’s estate. They watched as the two guards retreated into their respective sentry boxes, leaning against the wooden walls as the rain continued to cast a grey pallor over the world.
‘Yeah,’ Prism replied. ‘The guard's reaction really pissed me off, that's all. You'd think I'd be used to it by now.’
‘You shouldn’t have to get used to it.’
‘I know, but this is the real world, and the real world doesn't work like that. Unfortunately.'
‘Starting to regret giving me your last apple?’
Prism smiled. ‘No. Well ... Maybe, just a little bit though.’
‘Tough,’ Ty replied, with a smile of his own.
‘Milady will always be the most beautiful of creatures on this, or any other plane of existence.’ Ancelyn said, coming up behind them.
‘Oh, shut up, you elven popinjay,’ she said, scolding him with a wink.
‘As milady commands,' the elf replied, miming sewing his lips together. ‘But before I do, could you at least tell me what happened back there?’
‘It was the statue,’ Prism told him. ‘It started screeching as soon as that guard mentioned Khunda. I had to do something, and what else could I have done? I don't think showing the guard our little friend would have done us any favours, do you?’
‘I thought as much,' the elf said. ‘It definitely seems eager to return home.’
‘Aren't we all,’ Prism replied. ‘But we need to get to this Lord Zariel first. Like Ayelen said, we'll worry about Khunda later.’
As if summoned by the mention of her name, the golden-haired cleric marched up the hill to join the rest of them. ‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ she said, but we were getting a little off track.’
‘It was nothing, ma'am. Please forgive my impudence. After all, the miracle of a living statuette screaming in your ear is a mere triviality that should be ignored,’ Prism replied in a voice laced with sarcasm. She turned back to Ty. ‘Guess we'll just have to wait until dark and climb over the wall.’
‘Easy for you to say, you're not wearing platemail armour,’ he replied, and Ayelen nodded in agreement.
‘What’s the alternative? Kill the guards?’
‘Not kill, just you know, render them unconscious...’
‘I can just see it now. Us standing in front of his worship, weapons drawn: Hi, Lord Zariel, we're here to warn you about an impending attack. By the way, sorry about leaving your gates undefended as we had to knockout the two guards, and...’
‘All right, all right,’ grumbled Ty. ‘You've made your point. We'll wait.’
Fortunately, the wait was over much sooner than anyone expected. The sound of the explosion hit them first; a wave of deafening fury caused the estate gates to spring open and everyone to clutch their skulls and cringe, like hounds caught out in a thunderstorm. A column of black smoke followed from the direction of the manor house, rising into the air like a ladder to the heavens. The two guards scattered in different directions, running haphazardly away from their posts.
‘I think that’s our cue,’ Prism said slightly louder than was necessary, her ears still ringing from the blast. ‘See, no guards, open gates, and we didn’t have to do a thing.’
‘Let’s just hope his lordship is all right,’ Ty retorted at the same volume.
‘Bargle!’ Ayelen shouted, starting to run down the hill towards the gates.
‘Wait up!’ Ty shouted after her, but, if she even heard his words, they had no effect. Ty turned to Prism with a helpless expression on his face.
‘Go!’ she said. He nodded and followed the cleric towards the gates of the estate.
‘After you, milady?' Ancelyn said, as if she had a choice. Of all the many faults she had tried to overcome, loyalty and having a conscience consistently proved to be the hardest habits to break. She sighed. ‘Come on then, my elven popinjay. They’ll only blunder into things without us.’
     ‘As opposed to them blundering into things with us at their side?’
     Together, they made their way down the hill and followed after their comrades.
To be continued…
If you enjoyed reading this, PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT and/or FOLLOW for more (and RE-BLOG, if you would be so kind). It really would mean a lot to me and be very much appreciated. Thank you.
Please note: No AI was used (or harmed) in the making of this, or any other, blog post. My background is by Larry Elmore and was used as the box cover for the 1983 version of Dungeons & Dragons: Basic Set 1 (and the 2010 D&D 4e Starter Set). My avatar is my ‘V’ from Cyberpunk 2077.
First of all, a huge thank you - especially to Codexrolisticus. I really was beginning to doubt myself.
The second surprise happened in the game behind the blog: When I set up the starting scene for this adventure, I had no plan to deal with the mystery of the tiny statuette. I was saving that for after this little quest. But this is the essence of Mythic. I asked the question Do the guards let the party past? (Chaos Factor was 5 for the beginning of the adventure, and I set the difficulty as 'likely'). Naturally, I rolled a 33 and so created a random event. I rolled on the focus table and got move towards a thread, and on my adventure list Who is Lady Erisana? And that’s how that little conversation about the ‘Queen of Khunda’ happened (taken from our own saying of ‘If [whatever unlikely event] is true, then I’m the Queen of Sheba’). Does it fit in the scene? I’m not sure it does, but it did give me some titbits to work with in the future – Khunda sank into the sea and it had a Queen – both of these revelations have given me a few ideas! And this is why I love using Mythic alongside D&D.
If you enjoyed reading this, PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT and/or FOLLOW for more (and RE-BLOG, if you would be so kind). It really would mean a lot to me and be very much appreciated. Thank you.
Please note: No AI was used (or harmed) in the making of this, or any other, blog post. My background is by Larry Elmore and was used as the box cover for the 1983 version of Dungeons & Dragons: Basic Set 1 (and the 2010 D&D 4e Starter Set). My avatar is my ‘V’ from Cyberpunk 2077.
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‘You have to believe us,’ Ayelen said. ‘Lord Zariel is in grave danger!’
The rain poured down, soaking the four adventurers as they stood outside the gates to the titular nobleman's estate. Ayelen, acolyte of Lliira, was trying to convince a pair of guardsmen to let them through. Ty's stood with his hand hovering near his sword hilt, his face a picture of end-of-tether restraint. Ancelyn, the elf, had to nudge him in the ribs several times throughout the conversation. For her part, Prism lingered at the back of the party; hood pulled down to conceal her face, as if she was ashamed of being seen with the others.
‘Look,’ Ty said, stepping forward, ‘Are you going to let us through or what?’
‘At the very least send a message to his Lordship,’ Ancelyn added reasonably. ‘Let him test the veracity of our claim. We can wait here for his response, if you like.’
What a marvelous idea, thought Prism, glancing up at the grey clouds mirroring her mood.
‘Why don't you believe us?’ asked Ayelen.
‘Oh, we believe you, all right,’ the first guardsman sighed. ‘Look lady, do you have any idea how many beggars, thieves, and ne'er-do-wells try it on, so they can get through these gates? Hmmm? We wouldn't be doing much of a job if we let them all through, would we?’
The two guards could have been twins in their well-worn black tabards and chainmail armour. Both wore morion helmets, dented in roughly the same place, and both carried pikes that had seen better days. The only real difference between the two was the enormous ginger handlebar mustache concealing most of the first man's face, whereas his companion was clean shaven. Where the two were practically identical, however, was in the same skeptical attitude haunting both of their bored faces.
This is getting us nowhere, Prism thought. She was just about to voice her frustration when the second guardsman opened his mouth.
‘If Lord Zariel really is in danger, I'm the Queen of Khunda.’ The first guard chuckled at his friend’s witticism. The party, however, fell into a shocked silence, as if the man had spoken ill of the recently deceased.
‘What did you s...’ Ty began.
But the fighter was interrupted by a sudden high-pitched screech coming from Prism’s backpack. The guards immediately dropped into a fighting stance, pikes pushing the party back.
‘What in the nine hells was that!?’
A single heart beat stretched into infinity before Prism spoke. ‘Sorry, that was me,’ she said, stepping forward and lowering her hood.
The clean-shaven guard gasped at her pockmarked appearance. Whilst Prism's expression was artfully rueful, her eyes screamed her irritation. ‘I … got excited when you mentioned Kunda,’ she carried on, ‘I'm … an orphan, you see. And... and … well, to cut a long story short, I was told that I might be from Khunda...’
‘I doubt that,’ replied the first guard, visibly relaxing.
‘Oh, and why would that be?’ Ty asked, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
‘Because it doesn't exist, you dolt’ the second guard laughed. ‘Don’t say none of you've heard of the kingdom that sank beneath the sea?’
The four adventures shook their heads. The first guard tried to cover his mouth, but the moustache quivered his amusement. The second guard just rolled his eyes and sighed. ‘Look, whoever told your scarred friend she was from Khunda was just taking the proverbial, mate.’
‘Oh,’ said Prism looking down at the floor. ‘I was hoping you might have known something for a moment.’
‘Do I look like a bleeding scholar?’
‘Enough of this,' Ayelen said to Prism, in a somewhat overly theatrical performance. ‘We can worry about your past later. Right now, Lord Zariel and his family are in great danger!’
‘Sorry ma'am,' Prism said meekly, stepping back and pulling her hood up. ‘You're right, of course.’
‘You would do well to remember your place, girl!’
‘Yes ma'am.’
Ayelen turned back to the guards. ‘Servants,’ she shrugged. ‘Now, are you going to let us through or not?’
‘No,’ the first guard said. ‘Nice try, now bugger off! Go on, the lot of you!’
‘Yeah,’ said the second. ‘Shoo, before I stick this pike somewhere uncomfortable.’
To be continued…
If you enjoyed reading this, PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT and/or FOLLOW for more (and RE-BLOG, if you would be so kind). It really would mean a lot to me and be very much appreciated. Thank you.
Please note: No AI was used (or harmed) in the making of this, or any other, blog post. My background is by Larry Elmore and was used as the box cover for the 1983 version of Dungeons & Dragons: Basic Set 1 (and the 2010 D&D 4e Starter Set). My avatar is my ‘V’ from Cyberpunk 2077.
Author's Note: Trying to sail through the doldrums.
So, I left this blog for a week, hoping I’d get some feedback or at least some comments about where to go next. As of the time of writing, however, there has been nothing – not a like, comment, nor a re-blog.  Nowt, nadda, and zip. What does that actually mean? Is the blog terrible? Is the writing that bad? But if that was the case though, I’d imagine plenty of keyboard warriors falling over themselves to mock it and tell me, in no uncertain terms, just how bad it really is. And that’s not happening. So, on the flip side, maybe, it’s good enough and people are enjoying it, and feel no need to give any feedback - just as long as it stays like it is.
I don’t know. I really don’t.
And because I don’t know, all I can do is keep heading in the same direction and hope the winds of fortune blow the right way.  I’ll arrive at a destination sooner or later – whether it’s the one I intended or not is a completely different matter...
With that in mind, I’ve decided not to work on a different incarnation of Prism (at least for now), and to continue with this campaign – I can’t say what the denizens of Tumblr want (if you want anything at all), but I do know what I want; and what I want is to see where this story leads – Who is Lady Erisana? Where is Khunda? Will the party ever catch up with Bargle? Actually, I do know the answer to that last one – I’ve played it already.
Tomorrow, I’ll start posting scenes from the second adventure and hopefully, if I keep going long enough, I’ll reach the end of this stretch of apathy. Because that’s all I can do: Write and hope – see where it gets me.
Ps. I am getting plenty of attention from people who would like to make money from me by offering their services. To save everyone’s time and efforts, if you are one of these people, don’t bother. Just don’t. If I want an editor, proofreader, artist, tinker, tailor, soldier, or psychic, I will be the first one to ask. On this blog. Until then, just give it a rest, alright?
To be continued…
If you enjoyed reading this, PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT and/or FOLLOW for more (and RE-BLOG, if you would be so kind). It really would mean a lot to me and be very much appreciated. Thank you.
Please note: No AI was used (or harmed) in the making of this, or any other, blog post. My background is by Larry Elmore and was used as the box cover for the 1983 version of Dungeons & Dragons: Basic Set 1 (and the 2010 D&D 4e Starter Set). My avatar is my ‘V’ from Cyberpunk 2077.
*SPOILERS* Go read scenes 35 -37 before reading this!
So, with 30927 words written in total, that's the end of the first adventure for this party. What did you think?
Of course, the actual game didn't quite play out in the same way. While Ayelen did get charmed by Bargle, she never struck Ancelyn down - to be honest, she didn't manage to land a blow. But that's always been the challenge of this blog - interpreting dice rolls into a coherent, dramatically satisfying story.
From my perspective, it was the little unexpected moments I enjoyed most. Exploring Prism’s self-centred attitude for example, and looking at Ayelen’s emotional state after being charmed – something overlooked in the game, I think. Hopefully, however, you can still see the game DNA beneath - especially when I was questioning the Mythic oracle. The statuette of Lady Erisana, for example, was my interpretation of a Mythic 'answer'.
Currently, I am playing a third adventure with these characters (which is very much to do with Lady Erisana), that will hopefully lead to X1 The Isle of Dread, as I like the idea of playing that module from a solo POV. I also want to eventually go through X2 Castle Amber. At the moment, however, the characters are, for the most part, still level one (only needing 1200xp, Prism has just reached Level 2 and Ayelen isn’t far behind, needing less than 300xp to progress).
The question is, do you want to read more adventures with these characters? As I said elsewhere recently, the greatest challenge I'm facing with this blog is one of apathy - whilst I have several followers (THANK YOU SO MUCH), I have very few comments on my work, and no idea how it is being received.
rather than dwell on such things, to everyone who has managed to read this far, thank you. I hope you enjoyed my little story, and I hope you'd like to read more. Let me know :)
P.
If you enjoyed reading this, PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT and/or FOLLOW for more (and RE-BLOG, if you would be so kind). It really would mean a lot to me and be very much appreciated. Thank you.
Please note: No AI was used (or harmed) in the making of this, or any other, blog post. My background is by Larry Elmore and was used as the box cover for the 1983 version of Dungeons & Dragons: Basic Set 1 (and the 2010 D&D 4e Starter Set). My avatar is my ‘V’ from Cyberpunk 2077.
‘I'm sorry,’ Ayelen apologised to everyone, wringing her hands. ‘I'm so sorry. I ... don't know what came over me... one moment, we we're fighting the orcs together, the next... I ... I ... just don't know what happened. Please, forgive me!’
Tears rolled down her cheeks, flooding an expression of self-loathing.
‘There's nothing to forgive,’ Ancelyn said, rubbing the side of his head.
‘But I could have killed you...’
‘And it still would not have been your fault. You were under the influence of a charm spell. Bargle was responsible, not you.’
‘But...’ The cleric replied, not really listening. She slumped against the wall and continued to sob her heart out.
‘She needs to let it all out,’ Prism told the elf. ‘Give her time. Right now, I imagine she’s feeling... well let me put it this way, how would you feel if someone manipulated you like that? Controlled your every thought and treated you like nothing more than a puppet? I'll tell you something now, If I ever get my hands on that mage, I'm going to make him suffer over many, many days.’
Ancelyn nodded solemnly. ‘A worthy cause, and one I may join you on, should you wish to pursue such an endeavour.’
‘Good,’ Prism replied. ‘Because I wouldn't wish what she went through on my worst enemy. And if you want to stay on my good side, you’ll never, ever learn that spell.’
Ancelyn put his hand flat against his chest. ‘You have my word, milady.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘Look, I found this a moment ago. I was going to give it to her myself, but I think she would appreciate it more from you.’ Prism handed Ancelyn a small amulet carved into an overflowing chalice surrounded by flowers and fruit. ‘Just... give her a bit of time first, okay?’
‘My medallion!’ exclaimed Ayelen, as she took the sacred amulet from the elf's hand. ‘Thank Lliira! And thank you so much for finding it!’ She grabbed a surprised Ancelyn and pulled him into a bear-hug.
‘Well, it looks like someone's happy,’ Prism said with a slight smile.
On the whole, the thief had found little else of consequence in Bargle's lair - some notes on experiments, a few worthless personal effects, and, an admittedly well made, pair of old boots.
‘Not exactly the treasure hoard I was hoping for,’ she said to the others. ‘I should have known really. An outlawed mage on the run wasn't exactly going to lug around a chest brimming with gold, was he?’
‘Cheer up, Pris.’ Ty told her. ‘There's enough here to keep us going for a few months, maybe even through the winter, if we're careful.’
Prism snorted.
‘May I have a look at those boots, milady?’ Ancelyn asked, holding out his hands.
‘Are you in the market for some new footwear, my elven popinjay? Only one…’ Prism sniffed at the collar of one of the boots ‘surprisingly clean, previous owner.’
She passed the boots to the elf, who gasped as soon as he touched them.
‘Are they worth something?’ Prism asked suspiciously.
‘You could say that,’ Ancelyn replied. ‘And I would definitely say so. Look at the leatherwork, the craftmanship. These boots were made by my own people. Go on, try them on. Not only will they mold themselves to any foot, but those wearing them will make no sound above a whisper - handy, for someone in your particular profession, I should think?’
Prism raised her eyebrows.
‘Trust me.’ If words could radiate light, Ancelyn's two syllables would have burned brighter than the sun.
‘Hmmm,’ she replied. But despite her misgivings, Prism sat on the ground and raised her leg towards the elf, wiggling her foot. ‘Come on then,’ she said. Ty shook his head and turned back to searching the rest of the chamber. Ayelen quickly joined him. Ancelyn merely chuckled.
‘At my lady's command,’ he said, taking hold of her boot and beginning to pull.
‘I could get used to this,’ Prism told him, expecting a witty rejoiner, or something to piss off Ty at least. But the elf simply smiled, and she felt her entire body flush. Distracted, she didn't even notice him slip the 'new' boot on.
‘There you go,’ Ancelyn said, breaking the spell. ‘Give me your other foot, milady.’
Before Prism could move, however, something strange happened. The leather of the elven boot seemed to come alive. She tried to pull her leg away, but Ancelyn kept the limb firmly in place.
‘Wait,’ he said.
She tried to relax as the boot reformed and curled itself around her skin like an affectionate cat. A heartbeat later the sensation stopped. Just as Ancelyn had predicted, the boot had molded itself around her foot and calf. Prism marveled at it, stretching her leg to admire the now gleaming, enchanted leather.
‘Milady approves?’
‘Milady certainly does,’ her voice full of wonder.
‘Good, now pass me your other foot.’
Prism looked up. ‘If no-one objects,’ Prism said, addressing all of her friends, ‘I'm keeping these boots.’
‘As I believe I’ve already said, they're perfect for one of your talents,’ Ancelyn smiled.
‘I have my chalice back, so I'm happy if you lay claim to them,' Ayelen said, proudly wearing the symbol of her goddess around her neck.
Ty just shrugged. ‘They can come out of your share.’
So pleased was Prism with her latest acquisition, she didn't even counter the statement.
‘Look at this,’ Ayelen said, holding up a small leather-bound journal she had just picked up from a table at the back of the chamber. ‘I think it’s Bargle’s private diary.’
‘What does it say?’ Ty asked.
The cleric opened the book, and flipping to the last page, began to read: ‘... I can't believe that Zariel has brought me low enough to cower in a cave filled with damp and mold. I offered him the benefits of my studies, and he rewarded me with a dagger in the back. Well, now he'll pay. My experiments have produced some unexpected results, not least the explosive compound I've created. And soon I'll have enough of it to blow him and his wretched family off the prime material plane altogether.’
‘Who is this Zariel?’ Ancelyn asked, wandering over to Ayelen.
‘A nobleman,’ Ty replied. ‘I think he's the third or fourth cousin to the Grand Duke. Something like that, anyway. The White Raven's did some work for him a few years back.’
‘A nobleman, eh?’ Prism said. ‘And it sounds like Bargle is looking for some sort of payback. Say we were to warn this third of fourth cousin, do you think there would be some kind of reward?’
‘Even if there isn’t, I’d do it just to put a spoke in that bastard’s plans,’ Ayelen said vehemently.
‘If I remember right, Zariel does have an estate near Threshold,’ Ty told her.
‘Even better,’ said Prism, ‘it's on the way home. How about you, Ancelyn? Are you in?’
          The elf grinned. ‘I’ll follow wherever milady goes.’
           ‘I’ll remember that.’
Prism and friends will return.
If you enjoyed reading this, PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT and/or FOLLOW for more (and RE-BLOG, if you would be so kind). It really would mean a lot to me and be very much appreciated. Thank you.
Please note: No AI was used (or harmed) in the making of this, or any other, blog post. My background is by Larry Elmore and was used as the box cover for the 1983 version of Dungeons & Dragons: Basic Set 1 (and the 2010 D&D 4e Starter Set). My avatar is my ‘V’ from Cyberpunk 2077.
No plan ever survives first contact with the enemy. The old saying kept going around and around in Ty's head; a silent alarm ringing in his mind as they approached the entrance to the sinkhole. He took a deep breath and tightened his grip on his sword. The fighter had more than his fair share of experience of the front line, and several years of campaigning with the White Ravens mercenary company had taught him a thing or two. He just hoped it was enough.
‘I can't see anything out there,’ he said. ‘It looks deserted.’
‘Just be careful,’ Ayelen told him. ‘For all we know, there are orcs waiting either side of the cave mouth.’
‘Well, there's only one way to find out,’ Ty replied, hefting his shield into a better position.
Ayelen muttered a prayer to her goddess before raising her own shield. Oddly (to Prism at least) she wasn't begging Lliira to protect her or grant her victory over Bargle; the cleric was thanking the deity for her life, the friends she had made, the lovers she had taken, and all of the glorious little moments she had spent surrounded by beauty in one form or another. Prism smiled softly, finally understanding.
Ancelyn was the most circumspect of all of them. All humour had dropped away from his face, as if someone had removed his mask at a party, only to reveal his true lugubrious features and an infinity of regret. He notched an arrow to his bowstring with calm precision and purpose, a purely mechanical motion.
How does he remain so calm? Prism thought as her own heart beat so rapidly it was causing her whole body to tremble. He looked up at her.
‘For my friends,’ he said simply. ‘Those from before we met and those from the present moment.’
‘And the future, I hope.’
The elf offered her a sad little smile before bowing his head. Prism drew in a deep breath. Her hands were already clammy with sweat. She closed her eyes in the hopes of calming her body, but it only made things worse; without any visual stimuli to focus on, her mind began to throw up her worst fears and everything that possibly could go wrong.
‘Are we doing this, or what?’ she snapped, eyes springing open.
‘Yeah,’ Ty replied. ‘We're doing it, right now.’
‘Onward to glory!’ Ayelen responded, ‘And to the bounties of the Joybringer.’
Their shields overlapping to form a wall, the cleric and fighter began to slowly move forward, each step a statement of intent.
‘After you, milady,’ Ancelyn said, but there was no humour in his expression. The elf had the eyes of a hunter.
‘Why thank you, kind sir,’ Prism replied, readying her weapon and falling in behind Ty and Ayelen.
No plan ever survives first contact with the enemy, and so it was with the one the companions had concocted. Things went well at first, of course; nothing attacked them as they left the safety of the passageway, nor did the magic mouth put in an appearance. It didn't have to.
As they had discussed, Prism and Ancelyn peeled away from Ty and Ayelen, one heading left, the other, right. The cleric and fighter kept advancing until they reached the stream running through the centre of the sinkhole, and all remained peaceful. Only the sound of the waterfall disturbed the tranquility.
‘I think he's done a runner,’ Ty said, standing up straight and lowering his shield.
          And that seemed to be the cue.
A word of command echoed around the sinkhole. Bright light exploded everywhere, all at once. Ayelen screamed, but Prism couldn't tell where or why; all she could see was a whiteness purer than fresh snow. Her heart was beating even faster now, the war drums of panic pounding in her ears. Though it must have been no more than a heartbeat, Prism felt as though she had been standing in the same spot for all eternity, as vulnerable as a newborn calf. She blinked over and over again, shaking her head to clear her vision.
Slowly sight began to return; blurry at first, but with each blink, the world became a little clearer. An Orc bore down on her; axe raised above its head. She ducked just in time, rolling away from an undoubtedly lethal stroke, as the weapon came down with such force it embedded itself into the rocky ground. Prism quickly notched an arrow and shot the orc at point blank range. It squealed loudly before collapsing.
Temporarily safe, Prism chanced a look around. Ty was holding his own against another couple of orcs, whilst Ayelen and Ancelyn were battling one a piece. The elf had abandoned his bow and was struggling to hold off his opponent using his shield to block as he tried to draw his sword. Ayelen's arm was bleeding: blood running down the limb to coat her hand and mace with the finest claret.
Prism's bow wavered uncertainly between the orcs assaulting her friends. She took a breath and picked a target, hoping it was the right choice. Like a hound loosened from its leash, the arrow sped towards its target: straight into the chest of Ancelyn's opponent, allowing the elf the precious breathing room he needed. He shot her a grin before moving to help Ayelen.
As with everything in life, Prism's aid came at a price. Bargle appeared out of nowhere, not twenty feet from her. Before she could notch another arrow, the mage began to chant. He pointed in her direction and a bolt of pure energy sped towards her. The detonation lifted Prism off the ground and flung her across the stream, her bow and arrows scattering on the ground. She lay on her back, staring unseeingly at the late afternoon sky.
‘Amateurs,’ the mage said before turning his attention to the others. Ty had managed to slay one of his opponents and was pressing his attack on the other. Ancelyn and Ayelen easily had the upper hand against their foe. But Bargle did not seem overly concerned by the sudden turn of events. He began to chant again. At first nothing seemed to happen; Ancelyn finally put an end to the orc he and Ayelen had been fighting - pretty much at the same time Ty managed to deliver his own killing blow. The elf turned and raised his sword towards Bargle.
And that's when the cleric clocked him.
Ayelen’s mace crashed against the side of Ancelyn's helmet, the impact resonating like a dinner gong. The elf spun away from her and collapsed, dropping his sword in the process.
‘Ayelen!?’ shouted Ty. ‘What in the nine hells are you doing?’
But she ignored him and crossed over to where Bargle stood, taking up a defensive position in front of the mage. Bargle laughed and drew a dagger from the folds of his robe.
‘Well done, my dear,’ the mage said to the cleric. ‘But we don't want to hurt anyone else if we don't have to, do we?’
Ayelen shook her head. ‘But he looks so angry,’ she said, her voice strangely monotone, her eyes glassy.
‘Oh, I'm confident you won't let him hurt me,’
‘By the light of the Joybringer, I swear no-one will lay so much as a finger upon you.’
‘Thank you, dear one. I feel much safer with you protecting me.’
Ayelen smiled, but it seemed a purely mechanical gesture with no warmth to see.
Bargle turned to address Ty. ‘I'd suggest you lower your weapon, my young friend.’
To emphasise his point, the mage placed the tip of his dagger at the back of the cleric's neck. Ayelen stared at the fighter with unblinking eyes, unaware of Bargle's actions behind her.
Ty slowly did as he was instructed.
‘That's right,’ the mage told him, ‘Now, be a good boy and drop it. Good, good. And if you would be so kind to drop your shield as well. Oh, and you might as well take a few steps back, while you’re at it. That's it.
See my dear, our friend can be quite reasonable when properly motivated. Now, what's going to happen is, this delightful young lady and I are going to take our leave of this place, and you are going to stay here. If you try to follow us... well ... let's just say bad things are likely to happen. Do you understand?’
Ty nodded.
‘I'm so glad,’ said Bargle. ‘Come along, my dear, it's time for us to go.’
The mage and the cleric began to walk slowly towards another cave entrance on the far side of the sinkhole. Ty watched them go helplessly. As soon as the mage turned his back, however, an arrow embedded itself in his shoulder, winging him. Ayelen screamed and fell to the ground, clutching her temples.
Prism notched another arrow as Ty scrambled for his sword. Bargle began to chant. Her next shot went wide, but Ty was running now; straight at the mage. His sword was held in both hands, a terrible, bear-like snarl consuming his features. Finishing his spell, Bargle shot into the air, his dark robes billowing out like bat wings. Before Prism could fire another arrow he disappeared beyond the lip of the crater, vanishing into the fading sunlight.
Ty lowered his sword and ran straight to Ayelen, leaving Prism to watch the skies for the mage’s return. Once it became clear Bargle was not coming back, she dropped her bow and stumbled towards Ancelyn, a hand clutching her stomach. She and Ty looked at each other for a moment, relief a shared experience.
‘I should have known everything would go tits up,’ Ty said.
‘We're all still alive,’ Prism pointed out. ‘And Bargle ran away. We might not be able to claim the bounty on his head, but as far as I’m concerned, we won. Besides, a mage like Bargle must have some fancy baubles lying around here somewhere. I can practically smell the treasure close by.’
End of part two.
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Please note: No AI was used (or harmed) in the making of this, or any other, blog post. My background is by Larry Elmore and was used as the box cover for the 1983 version of Dungeons & Dragons: Basic Set 1 (and the 2010 D&D 4e Starter Set). My avatar is my ‘V’ from Cyberpunk 2077.
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‘He's waiting for us,’ Prism said, handing Ancelyn his bow.
‘More than likely,' the elf agreed.
‘I was hoping we could catch him unawares,’ Ty said, frowning. ‘Or at least before he could fire off any of his spells.’
‘That was never going to happen,’ Prism told him. 'Not with a giant mouth announcing us, every time we so much as sneeze.’
‘I'm surprised it hasn't found us down here already.’
Prism paced back and forth, a hand on the back of her neck. ‘I might be wrong but, I think it has to attach itself to a doorway or entrance. Something like that, anyway.’
‘Maybe,’ Ty replied dubiously.
‘Why can't we wait here?’ Ayelen asked. ‘Just set up an ambush? That way, Ancelyn could cast that sleep spell of his as soon as Bargle is in sight.’
Ancelyn sighed. ‘First, I would need to rest and study my spellbook before I could cast any more spells,’ he explained. ‘Second, we don't have that amount of time. Sooner or later, the orcs behind us are going to find a way across the chasm. And when they do, we'll have to fight them as well as Bargle and whatever forces he has with him.’
‘At least we’d be able to bottleneck them, limiting how many could attack us at once,' Ayelen said, a hint of petulance in her tone.
‘It's not a bad plan, princess, but what if Bargle’s magic brings down the roof on top of us? No, Ancelyn's right, I think we're going to have to step into his web, not the other way around.’
The elf bowed at Prism's words. She gave him an exaggerated wink. Ancelyn laughed.
‘Never fight an enemy on their terms,’ Ty said with a shake of his head. ‘First thing they taught us in the 'Ravens. We need a better plan than that. Pris, any chance you could sneak up and shank the bastard?’
‘Not with the mouth there to warn him I'm coming, no.’
‘Then we must present his guardian with an alternate target.’ Ancelyn said, stroking his chin. ‘One so obvious that it cannot be ignored.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Ty.
But Ayelen's eyes were alight. ‘He means, if me, you, and him rush out first, the mouth will focus on us. Then Prism can slip out and...’
‘I like how you're thinking, princess, but I'll go one better,’ Prism said. ‘I’ll take Ty's bow and arrows, and Ancelyn already has his own. So, what if you and Ty rush out as planned, but me and the popinjay here stay back and fill the bugger full of arrows? Even if he has anyone with him, the chances are they'll run away once their master falls.’
‘Seems unlikely to me. What makes you say that?’
Prism shrugged. ‘Instinct mostly. But something about these orcs says mercenaries to me,’ she turned to her oldest friend. ‘And Ty, remind me, what does a mercenary tend to do if he doesn't get paid?’
‘He stops fighting and gets the hell out of there,’ the sandy haired fighter grinned.
‘Exactly.’
Ayelen had a puzzled expression on her face. ‘So, why can't you and Ancelyn shoot arrows from the entranceway? Then Ty and me wouldn't have to rush out anywhere.’
‘If we can, great. That's exactly what we'll do,’ Prism reassured the cleric. ‘But the chances are, Bargle won't give us an easy shot like that, and you're forgetting about the mouth. As soon as we get near the entrance, it'll probably shout a warning to him.’
‘That bloody mouth again!’ Ty exclaimed. He looked directly at Ancelyn. ‘Do you know any way to get rid of it?’
‘Yes, several actually,’ the elf replied. ‘But all of them require more arcane skill than I currently possess.’
‘Well, well, our little popinjay has his limits after all.’
‘Knock it off. Pris,’ Ty commanded. He looked around the circle of companions. ‘Does anyone have any better ideas?’
 Silence brought a slight scowl to the warrior's face. ‘Well, for better or worse, it look's like we have a plan then.’
‘All right,’ said Prism. ‘So, the next question is when do we make our move? Wait until nightfall?’
‘As Ancelyn said, we don’t have time for that,’ Ty reminded her, handing over his bow and quiver. ‘You have anything you want to do before we go?’
Prism strapped the quiver to her belt, letting it dangle against her hip. Then she tested the bowstring with her thumb. ‘Not really. Anyone else?’
Ty waited for a moment, but again nobody said anything. ‘All right, let's go then.’
Without another word, the four began to walk up the rocky path, each resolved to meet their fate.
End of part one.
If you enjoyed reading this, PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT and/or FOLLOW for more (and RE-BLOG, if you would be so kind). It really would mean a lot to me and be very much appreciated. Thank you.
Please note: No AI was used (or harmed) in the making of this, or any other, blog post. My background is by Larry Elmore and was used as the box cover for the 1983 version of Dungeons & Dragons: Basic Set 1 (and the 2010 D&D 4e Starter Set). My avatar is my ‘V’ from Cyberpunk 2077.
Just to let you what's happening. The final scene ended up being just short of 3000 words before editing. So, what I'm going to do is break it up into 3 separate scenes, edit them at the weekend and post them all together when done.
First of all, due to the weather and work, I may not be able to post the concluding part of this first adventure until midweek at the earliest, next weekend at the latest. I will try to post sooner, but no promises.
Second, since we are coming to the end of Prism(& Co)'s first foray into the unknown - very loosely based on 'Your First Game' (pp 4 - 13 Dungeon Masters Rulebook of the Basic Set 1983). I'd like some feedback please on how you feel it's went - what worked and what didn't? Also, with what's happening next - let me explain.
The reason the main character is called Prism is because of the properties of the physical object - As you probably know, a prism splits a single beam of white light into its several constituent bands of colour. In this case, I wanted to do the same with a character: create one and split it into different incarnations, like Michael Moorcock’s Eternal Champion (Elric, Corum, Hawkmoon, Erekose, Jerry Cornelius, etc.), only in this case: Prism the thief in D&D, Prism the Netrunner in Cyberpunk 2020, Prism the Smuggler in Star Wars (WEG version) – I have quite a few vintage (they weren’t when I bought them) RPGs.
The problem is I grew attached to Prism, Ty, Ayelen and Ancelyn. And at the time of writing, I’m in the middle of my third adventure with them (they are trying to get to Khunda, as per the little statuette’s instructions). So, what would you like to see? The continuing adventures of Prism et al, or a different Prism in a different setting – and if so, which one?
‘I don't suppose I could convince you to let me go?’ Prism asked, already knowing what the answer would be.
‘My Lord Bargle,’ the mouth called out, its deep voice echoing around the sinkhole. ‘The intruders are here! My Lord Bargle...'
Didn’t think so.
Prism put her head down and ran as fast as she could for the tunnel entrance. Behind her, arrows thudded into the ground, followed by the angry grunting of the orcs as they began to chase after her. She plunged into the cool darkness, her sprint aided by the downward slope of the passage.
I really hope Ty is back up on his feet and ready for a fight, she thought, sprinting past the flora of the bioluminescent gallery. Behind her, the tunnel was filled by a cacophony of heavy boots sending pebbles and loose stones skittering, in a race to catch up. Prism was pretty sure she’d almost reached the chamber where the others were waiting (and hopefully well-rested), and since stealth was no longer a possibility, she began to shout as loudly as she could manage.
‘Head's up!’ she called. ‘They're coming. They're right behind me!’
She thought she heard a reply but wasn't sure - too many other sounds were bouncing around, competing for her attention; she would just have to hope they heard. Sprinting was beginning to take its toll, daggers of pain stabbing at her legs and each breath a fight for more air. But Prism couldn’t have stopped for all the gold in the kingdom; she wanted to; at the very least, she wanted to slow down, but momentum and the direction of travel had become terrible taskmasters, preventing anything except an ever increasing acceleration.
Prism had the sudden, horrible image of herself reaching the ledge above the river of lava and not stopping; arms flailing as she plunged down into the depths. Fortunately, nature has a way of managing such things, and her speed came at the detriment of her natural dexterity. She bounced off a sharp corner, pitched forward and stumbled. She tried to right herself, but it was too late. She fell, tumbling her way down the rest of the passage and landing at Ancelyn's feet.
         ‘Now, now, Milady, there's no need to throw yourself at me, our courtship already goes so magnificently,’ the elf grinned before returning his attention back to the task in hand. He drew back his bow, and by the time Prism had caught her breath, had managed to loose two arrows towards the charging orcs. A third came from her left. She turned to see Ty, his own bow in hand. He grinned at her, and she could have wept with joy; Ayelen kept her promises it seemed.
With a florid motion, Ancelyn helped Prism to her feet and passed her his bow. His quiver followed.
‘What are you doing?’ Prism gasped.
The elf winked at her and rolled up his sleeves. ‘Just cover me,’ he said.
With no alternative, Prism notched an arrow and drew back the bow. As she took her shot, Ancelyn raised his hands and began chanting. A heartbeat later four orcs dropped to the ground, snoring.
‘Sleep spell,’ the elf explained with a sly chuckle.
The three remaining orcs looked around and then at each other, confused expressions agitating their porcine faces. They barely managed to get their shields up before Ty barrelled into them, followed by Ayelen shouting ‘for the Joybringer.’
Ancelyn drew his sword. ‘Wait here, milady, I'll be right back,’ he said before joining the other two. Prism took a few potshots here and there, but there was no real need; her friends were more than a match for their adversaries. Three orcs quickly became two, and then one, in short order. The final orc let out a pig-like scream before turning to run. It managed three paces before Prism put one of Ancelyn's arrows in its back.
‘Where's Bargle?’ she shouted, grabbing another arrow.
But the mage was nowhere to be seen.
To be concluded…
If you enjoyed reading this, PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT and/or FOLLOW for more (and RE-BLOG, if you would be so kind). It really would mean a lot to me and be very much appreciated. Thank you.
Please note: No AI was used (or harmed) in the making of this, or any other, blog post. My background is by Larry Elmore and was used as the box cover for the 1983 version of Dungeons & Dragons: Basic Set 1 (and the 2010 D&D 4e Starter Set). My avatar is my ‘V’ from Cyberpunk 2077.
Bioluminescent funghi and plants lit Prism’s way, creating a blue-green haze permeated by the scent of damp rock. But the further the passageway climbed upwards, the more the subterranean flora became sparce, until, all too soon, the last of the funghi disappeared behind her, leaving Prism once more in the dark. A sense of melancholy threatened to replace the light, but Prism refused to heed it. She had already done as much navel-gazing as she ever wanted to do recently, and now she just wanted out of these damn caves. She wanted to go home. The irony that 'home' was a concealed cellar was not lost on the thief, but she didn't care. Home was home - and it wasn't here! She suddenly stopped; her momentum stilled by a pinprick of golden-white light somewhere above.
It can't be, can it?
Prism picked up the pace, allowing base instinct to overrule her good sense. The closer she came, the brighter the light. She could smell the fresh air, hear the distant sound of running water and birds merrily calling to one another. Wafts of a summer breeze mingled with the stale, musty air she had been breathing for the last few days. Despite the promise of being above ground again, however, the thief had not completely lost her wits. Hugging the wall of the tunnel, she advanced slowly, letting her eyes adjust to the abundance of light before peeking outside.
Somewhat disappointingly, Prism found she wasn't quite out of the cave system yet. Beyond the natural archway, there was daylight, that much was true, but even from where she stood, Prism could see she was at the bottom of a massive bowl about a hundred yards across and at least fifteen deep; an irregularly shaped sinkhole, and a recent one, if the surrounding debris was anything to judge by.
It must have been made by the tremors yesterday. Shouldn't be too hard to climb out though, she thought, appraising the mixture of dirt and newly broken rock that formed the walls of the crater. Then I can drop a knotted rope down for the others. The summer sun felt good on her face, the gentle warmth bringing out a smile, as if it had spent the winter sleeping beneath her skin.
A newly created waterfall poured over the rim of the sinkhole, filling a jagged scar stretching across the basin; a fledgling stream that vanished into the various cracks in the ground. Prism licked her lips, saliva welling up in her mouth in anticipation of drinking fresh water instead of the stagnant contents of her waterskin. Drawn on by the glinting waters of the stream, Prism moved quickly across the rock-strewn ground, eager to drink her fill. Halfway there, however, she froze.
There, almost hidden in the shadows of the waterfall stood a short man in his mid-forties, wearing a dark robe. His face was round and clean shaven, skin pasty in a scholarly way. More hair bristled from his brow than from the top of his head, although a couple of tufts of iron-coloured hair rested above his ears, the only survivors of the passage of time. A hooked, beak-like nose gave Prism the distinct impression that a vulture had been involved in his ancestry at some point.
So, this is Bargle ... the Magnificent!? He certainly didn’t look that much from where she was standing. Still, it had to be the renegade mage; half-a-dozen or so orcs were following the commands he barked out impatiently, filling their pails of water and pouring them into barrels. Well, if he's 'Bargle the magnificent' that must make me ‘Prism the Ever Radiant’, she thought, trying to suppress a grin.
Prism shook her head. One shot, that's all it would take. The orcs wouldn't even know where it had come from. But she no longer possessed her crossbow; she needed to go back and tell the others. Maybe Ancelyn will lend me his bow.
Frowning her disappointment, Prism crouched down and turned back the way she came. Only to find the magic mouth had appeared above the tunnel entrance.
‘You didn’t really think you’d get away from me so easily did you?’ it said gleefully.
To be continued…
If you enjoyed reading this, PLEASE LIKE, COMMENT and/or FOLLOW for more (and RE-BLOG, if you would be so kind). It really would mean a lot to me and be very much appreciated. Thank you.
Please note: No AI was used (or harmed) in the making of this, or any other, blog post. My background is by Larry Elmore and is the cover art of the 1983 version of Dungeons & Dragons: Basic Set 1 (and the 2010 D&D starter set). My personal avatar is my version of ‘V’ in Cyberpunk 2077.
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Ty felt a cooling shadow fall over him. He opened his eyes to see Prism staring down, a soft expression on her scarred face. He smiled at her, but it quickly turned to a grimace as spikes of pain dug their fingernails into his back like an over-enthusiastic lover.
‘I feel like a human pincushion,’ he replied, swallowing. Even that slight movement was enough to send another wave of white-hot agony along every nerve in his body.
‘I might be able to help with that,’ Prism told him, holding up something round and blurry.
Ty squinted. ‘What is it?’ he asked, reaching out for the object.
‘One of the apples I picked up from Bargle's garden.’
Ty's hand froze in mid-air. ‘I thought they were poisonous to anyone not pure of heart.’
Prism took a large crunchy bite from the fruit and made a show of eating it.
‘Do I look like I'm pure of heart to you?’
‘But... how?’
‘I don't know where Ayelen gets her ideas from, but these aren't the apples of Hesperides,’ she told him. ‘I’m not sure what they are really, but I do know they do have some magic to them. Look at my leg!’
 Prism pointed to her thigh, where her trousers had been sliced clean through. The flesh beneath was unscarred, devoid of even the pockmarks that wracked the rest of her body. The wound she had suffered earlier had completely vanished.
 Ty reached out and touched the smooth flesh. He looked up at her face again; really looking at her this time. The tiny craters left behind by the plague were still there, whitened by age, but they were much fainter now.
He gasped. ‘How is this possible?’
‘I don’t know,’ Prism shrugged, ‘but it’s amazing, isn't it? I wish we could go back and get some more, ‘cos this is my last one.’
‘I can't take the last one from you, Pris,' he said. ‘You keep it. Finally, you can be free of your scars.’
Prism smiled and shook her head. ‘I’m kinda used to them these days,’ she said. ‘And besides, who doesn’t want to look unique.’
‘But...’
‘Hey! What did we swear to when we were little? We promised we’d look out for each other, didn't we?’
‘We did,’ he agreed ‘And we always have...’
‘...And we always will,’ she finished, cutting him off. ‘So, it’s settled then. Come on, eat up your greens. And then get some rest, give the magic a bit of time to work.’
Ty took the apple reluctantly, and Prism folded her arms, waiting. He took a small bite, chewed and swallowed. His next bite was larger, more enthusiastic.
‘There, see? No poison, just a sweet juicy apple – like I said.’
‘Thanks,’ he said in between eating.
‘Don’t mention it,’ she said, getting ready to leave.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Don’t worry, soldier, I'll be back in a bit. Someone has to scout up ahead, see what's what.’
‘Okay, Pris,’ Ty said drowsily. ‘Don't be too long,’
Prism gave him a mock salute, but the fighter didn’t see it. Within the space of a couple of heartbeats, he was snoring softly, the core of the apple falling from his hand. She reached over and gently kissed his brow. ‘Goodnight, sweet prince,’ she said, before walking away and straight into Ayelen, who had been watching the entire exchange.
‘You never cease to surprise me,’ the cleric said.
‘Good,’ Prism said, giving her a wink. ‘I like to keep you on your toes. Look after him, princess, and remember what I said I'd do to you, if you don't.’
‘He’ll have my full attention,’ Ayelen promised, inclining her head.
Prism smiled gratefully before slipping into the shadows and the passageway beyond.
To be continued…
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For the rest of his life, Ty would never work out what hurt him most: The slap to his face or the tone of Prism's voice. He hadn’t heard that level of desperation since their childhood, when he’d been really sick. Her slap or her concern, either way, it had the intended effect of snapping him out of his reverie. He opened his eyes to see Prism holding on to the rung above his, busy pulling the rope down and trying to get the loop over his head and shoulders.
‘You have to help me,’ she was saying, her tone settling into the animal-like snarl of a mother protecting its young. He nodded, too exhausted to speak. It took the last of his energy just to grab the rope with his free hand. With his friend’s help, however, he managed to get the rope under his armpit.
‘It'll have to do,’ Prism said critically. ‘Now start climbing. Don’t worry, those two up there will do the rest.’
The rope became taught as somewhere above, Ayelen and Ancelyn started to pull. And with Prism helping him reach every rung, Ty made his way slowly up towards the ledge. By luck or by fate, no more arrows found their mark, and the pair soon reached the safety of the ledge.
Once Ty and Prism were safe, Ancelyn picked up his bow and began peppering the orcs on the other side of the chasm with his own arrows. Using the barrage to cover their actions, Ayelen and Prism pulled Ty away from the edge. Behind the trio, Ancelyn followed after them, taking a step back after every shot. Soon, the chasm, orcs, and river of lava were left behind, and the friends had a moment to rest and take a look at Ty's wounds.
‘Those arrows are going to have to come out,’ Ayelen said.
‘But we don't know how deep they are,’ Prism protested.
‘Then we're going to have to get his armour off and have a look.’
‘Do I get a say in any of this?' said Ty
‘No,’ Prism and Ayelen replied in unison. Ty sighed and muttered something about strong-minded women under his breath.
‘What was that?’ Ayelen inquired politely.
‘Just don't cut the straps, all right?’ he pleaded. ‘If you do, the armour's fu-, the fit of armour depends on them.’
Ayelen chuckled. ‘Is that all you're worried about?’ she said, shaking her head.
‘It's important!’ Ty protested.
‘Once a soldier, always a soldier,’ Prism observed.
‘Let’s do this,’ said Ayelen, taking charge. They laid Ty on his stomach as gently as they could. Ancelyn and Ayelen held him down as Prism took hold of the first arrow.
‘I'm going to have to snap the shafts or we can’t remove your back plate,’ she explained to her friend. ‘The arrow's going to move and it's gonna tickle a little bit, sorry.’ Her tone was light, but her expression was grim.
‘Here, bite down on this,' Ancelyn said, handing Ty one of his own arrows. The young fighter did as he was instructed. Prism snapped the first arrow. Ty screamed and passed out.
‘Well, at least the second one is going to be easier on him...’
With the arrow shafts out of the way, the three of them began working on the straps holding Ty's armour in place.
‘Why does he have to have them buckled so tightly?’ Ayelen complained.
‘Don't worry, princess. I'll lend you a lock pick for your next romantic evening together.’
‘Better make it two,' Ayelen replied as she struggled with a particularly irksome buckle.
Eventually, however, the back plate came free. Still unconscious, Ty moaned as they lifted the armour and slid it away from his back.
‘It doesn't look too bad,’ said Ayelen examining the wounds. ‘His armour stopped the worst of it. Look there, that one’s point barely entered the flesh.’
‘What about the other one?’
‘Let's deal with the easy one first, shall we, Milady?’ Ancelyn said, resting a hand on Prism’s shoulder. She nodded.
‘See,’ the cleric said, ‘it’s little more than a scratch; cleaning and bandaging the wound should be sufficient. Now, let's have a look at the second one.’
The second arrow had penetrated Ty's back much deeper than the first.
‘Pulling the arrow out won't be much of a problem,’ Ayelen said. ‘He’s fortunate that these particular orcs were firing arrows without barbs. And judging by the one we've already removed, I don't think they were using any poisons...’
‘So, what's the problem? Let’s get it out of him,’ said Prism.
‘We don't really know what damage it's done inside, if any,’ Ayelen sighed and wiped her brow. ‘But I suppose we'll just have to hope for the best for now. Hold him down again, please.’
The cleric took hold of the remaining shaft and placed her knee in the small of Ty’s back. Then she pulled. The arrow came free, a gout of blood following behind it. Ayelen quickly pushed a wad of cloth over the wound and held it there until Prism wrapped a bandage around his lower torso, several times.
Ayelen wiped the blood from her hands. ‘Let him rest,’ she said. ‘There isn’t much else we can do at this point.’
But Prism had other ideas.
To be continued…
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