#houseofmaynard

Primogen Raisen mumbles an incantation under his breath, his hands began to glow with a radiant energy. The young princess lay bleeding out on the Sucrosi road, the ambush had taken them by surprise.

Holding fast to his faith, praying that the world not yet take Sugarfina. He rejected death, halting it. The energy envelops the princess, infusing her with false life, breathing vitality back into her fragile form.

The towering ramparts and highwalls of Castle Candy were all Princess Sugarfina knew for her sheltered life. As the bulb sets on the first day of travel, she regards her home from a distance.

The town of Dulcington was barley discernible from this view. Castle Candy looked so small and was to become even smaller still as they continue down the Sucrose Road.

Starting a campaign in the lovely world of A Crown of Candy from @dimension20show, and the mind of @brennanleemulligan.

I'm a super novice DM but the world of #acoc inspired me to try to give it an honest go at it.

Ambassador Hopkins meditates at the cocoa Standing Stones. A freshly cracked chocolate egg stands in the middle, yellow and green runes start to glow within the deep brown stones, a large shadow draws across the field of candy grass.

Skin that shimmers with a velvety, milk chocolate hue, its eyes twinkle with an infectious gaze, its ears are long and expressive, often twitching and rotating, seemingly attuned to every sound and movement in its domain. A magnificent Glowing Golden foil staff and shield act as armaments. As it softly lands, sugar flowers and other candies bloom beneath its feet.

The stakes were high in this tournament, for the prize was a prestigious Seat on the Cornucopian Council. Sir Curran Black, the Lord Commander of Candia, stood awaiting his turn as he observed his fellow contestants. He had trained many recruits in the past, and he couldn’t help but silently assess their form. While they were not terrible, they lacked the finesse and dedication he had come to expect from a true archer.

One by one, the other contestants took their shots, their arrows finding their marks but without the precision and flair that Curran was known for. As his turn approached, he mentally prepared himself, focusing on the fundamentals of archery that he had honed over the years.

“Slow your breath, steady your aim, and release,” he repeated in his head, a mantra that had guided him through countless competitions and battles. With a fluid and practiced motion, Sir Curran Black drew his bowstring and let the arrow fly.

The arrow streaked down the archery range, its flight path so straight and true that it seemed to slice through the very air itself. The high-pitched whine of the arrowhead echoed in the silence, and with a resounding thud, it buried itself deep in the center of the target.