Creative Writing Assignments.   Posted by The Allfather.Group: 0
The Allfather
 GM, 69 posts
Wed 2 Jan 2019
at 14:03
Creative Writing Assignments
This thread will be for your creative writing assignments. Please change the subject of your post to match the dungeon.
 Half-Ogre Thief, 68 posts
 Basic Speed 7
Wed 2 Jan 2019
at 14:11
You All Meet At An Inn
Journal of the Exploits of Drakul,
Half-Ogre “Thief” and Disciple of Loki

Lokean Log
On the Seven and Twentieth Day
Of the Month of Þorri

Having arrived early at the establishment known as “The Black Ox Tavern,” I began to set my plan in motion. First, having acquired sustenance from the kitchen, I procured additional chili powder, allegedly for adding flavor. Furthermore, I obtained the hotplate for the aforementioned sustenance, and, assuring that its temperature would remain extreme even after some time had passed, continued back to my selected seat in the corner. The hot plate was designated “stage two,” and placed beneath the thin seat cushion. The chili powder, being “stage one,” was introduced into the second flagon of ale and carefully positioned in front of the empty chair across from me.

Target one, Brandaelfr Erling, the Eldhuð warrior of Odin, sat at the bar with his divine halberd, claimed a gift from the Allfather himself. Target two, Dagrak Torsten, a Dwarf priest of Thor, soon joined him, his voice a cacophonous thunder to match the arrogance of his god. Target three, Fergurth Skógurdóttir, the Elf archer and ranger, took the bait and immediately downed the chili ale. Somehow, this did not deter her, and she fell for the hotplate as well, albeit without injury. How unfortunate. This actually endeared her to me, a sign from the Netmaker himself that my plan was indeed according to his weave. Target four, Mog, a Half-Orc barbarian came in just in time to see the knots begin to unfurl.

The Great Spider weaves his web tight and yet invisible even to his servants. A stranger took the stage and began pronouncing some mystery about a treasure map. But before he could continue, a great earthquake shook the building at the sound of a horn, coming from the well within the inn’s courtyard. Some minions of Hela arose from their slumber to attack the patrons, but my targets and I savagely destroyed them. With the power of the Allfather, Brandaelfr held the undead at bay while the rest of us sliced them to pieces, rescuing the patrons and owner from certain undeath.

This scheme from Loki united me to the targets faster than anything I could have planned, being now a brother at arms with them against the forces of darkness. Stage three was now set in motion, and ahead of schedule. After assisting the patrons in boarding up the windows and barricading the doors against the army of zombies approaching the tavern, and seeing that a flock of demonic crows was about to descend upon us, the targets and I descended into the well to discover and stop the cause of this catastrophe. Little did the targets know this was all playing into my hand.

At the bottom of the well stood a passageway just above the water level, leading into a circular cavern with torches lining the walls and a brazier in the center. As soon as we stepped foot on the landing, a Flame Lord appeared in the brazier, and a greenish mist hovered in one corner. Somehow we managed to avoid detection, ducking into the shadows on the sides of the small corridor.

The targets kept the focus of the Flame Lord, moving towards it from the front, while I skittered through the shadows and appeared behind it, burying my knife into its back of solidified flame. The greenish mist must have been some sort of demon fog—a Toxifier if memory serves, because it fled at the sight of Brandaelfr’s and Dagrak’s sacred weapons. Fergurth put an arrow in the Flame Lord’s eye socket, which didn’t seem to do as much as expected, and Dagrak tried summoning water above its head. The water was utterly useless, simply evaporating on contact.

Angered by my successive blows, the Flame Lord turned and tried to hit me with fiery fists, but I was too quick, and the deflection by my knives cut into the thing’s arms. Now taking it on from the front, Brandaelfr slashed mercilessly with his halberd of pure sunlight, splashing liquid flames from the creature’s midsection across the cavern floor, and Mog finished it off with a mighty cleave with his axe, the Flame Lord’s coalesced flames beginning to smolder out. Approaching the cowardly Toxifier, and cornering it with their sacred weapons, Dagrak and Brandaelfr finished it off with a combination of rapid slashed and a few Concussion spells, scattering the mist into nothingness.

The first room cleared, we settled down to rest a bit before moving forward. Naturally, I offered to lead the way, since I alone possessed the proficiency sufficient to take on the dreaded “locked door.” Two doors, in fact, easy enough though, and I snuck forward to get a look at the next room. Two stone golem’s guarded a door, and four coffins lay undisturbed in the midst of the room. I returned to inform the targets of the contents of the next room.

Once again, I took to the shadows, blades flashing for a golem’s neck from behind—the one with a huge maul. Mog went for the other creature—the one with an executioner’s sword, charging into a slash with his axe. My foe swung his maul at my chest. I bent backwards, nearly to the ground, to avoid it, and came back up slashing more chunks of rock off its neck. Fergurth watched the graves with arrow nocked and bow drawn, in case any more of Hela’s servants decided to appear. Joining my bout, Dagrak chipped off huge chunks of stone with his own hammer as my own blades hit its neck once again, stepping close to get within the reach of the oversized club. Dropping the weapon, the golem came at me with stony fists.

Brandaelfr took out the other one’s leg, giving Mog an opening. The barbarian deflected the golem’s sword before hefting the greataxe into its side, splintered rocks showering against the wall. The golem fell as its leg was crumbling, failing miserably to hit either its attackers. Brandaelfr removed its arm, and Mog finished it off with two brutal slashes across the chest. The golem’s magic departed, its eyes fading to an lifeless gaze, and the body crumbled into a pile of stones.

Meanwhile, Dagrak continued smashing chunks off our own foe while I slashed at its neck again—why reinvent the wheel after all. A few more precise strikes and it too fell to pieces at our feet.

The golems destroyed, we looked to the coffins, checking for traps and awaiting whatever danger lay within. One indeed contained another minion of Hela, a mighty warrior from ages past, unjustly ripped from Valhalla, clad with mail armor and armed with shield and a sword which erupted in flames when drawn. Fergurth was already prepared with an arrow and stuck it straight into the Draug’s eye socket. I ducked behind it, as usual, and took a chunk out of the unarmored neck—necks are all to easy to slice. Mog swung with such vigor that he not only missed but left himself wide open to the Draug’s attack.

The Draug ignored both its missing eye and the huge gash in the back of its neck and went instead for the easy target—the defenseless barbarian—slicing his chest wide open. Mog saw red, literally and figuratively, losing control of himself and flying into a rage. He continued to slash with reckless abandon, spittle spattering out of his mouth as he roared. I took advantage of being ignored and buried my blade in the Draug’s neck again. It really did work about as well as it could, but knives can only do so much, and this Draug was tough. Dagrak didn’t even bat an eyelash; he used the power of Thor to restore the raging barbarian’s tattered flesh, the gaping wound in Mog’s chest almost instantly stitched itself back together. The archer sent two arrows at the creature as Mog’s second attack landed home. Then Brandaelfr stepped around to the rear of the undead’s blind side and went for its skull with his gleaming halberd, cracking its skull in half even through the pot helm and thick hide. Not surprisingly, that took the thing down.

Mog didn’t seem to be calming down; he looked like he was going to keep attacking whatever was in his reach, but gods all be praised that Brandaelfr managed to talk him down before his rage turned against the rest of us. Two tough enemies down, and the bonds of friendship only grew stronger. All according to plan.

The door formerly guarded by the two stone golems was, as to be expected, neither locked nor trapped. The subsequent room, on the other hand, had a few surprises: First, there was a sort of underground river flowing that blocked the path to the next room. Second, a level say unguarded to the side. As I suspected, the lever was trapped. I almost convinced Mog to grab it with his hand, but he decided to use the haft of his axe instead. How unfortunate. The lever both began draining the river and alerted the creatures within to our presence. The river contained leaping leeches, which we dispatched in short order, and phase snakes, which also died without much trouble.

The real trouble awaited us in the final room, as did the fruition of this stage of my plan. A Peshkali stood at the far end of the room, guarding three clay idols with its six scimitars. I managed to run into the room without immediately attracting the attention of the demon, but one of the idols tried to shoot flames at me from afar. Instead, the flames erupted back on itself, giving me more space to charge across the room and destroy it with a swift slash of my knife. The whole cavern rumbled, like the earthquake that started it all.

This put me within reach of the Peshkali, but the rest of my targets were too far behind to draw its attention. The demon lunged for me, blades swinging. Somehow, I managed to avoid most of the blades between a couple parries, a lot of dodging and weaving, and Loki’s own luck. But the gods saw fit that I should take at least one severe wound—a massive slice from my left collarbone to my right hip. I nearly collapsed from shock, and this drew the attention of the whole party. Everyone charged forward, Dagrak moved to lend me aid by way of Thor’s healing magic. Fergurth shot the demon in the eye, but it didn’t even flinch. Mog and Brandaelfr came up to face the creature head on.

Before the barbarian could get a hit in, the demon moved toward him and slashed with every weapon. Mog managed to stop one sword. The rest cut deep gashes all over his body, blood fountaining from his bare chest. He collapsed in a bloody heap, unconscious and possibly dying. Fergurth again plugged the Peshkali’s eye, but yet with little effect. Dagrak healed most of my wound in an instant, enough to keep me going. Brandaelfr continued forward toward the demon.

Now the demon turned to Brandaelfr, scimitars spinning like a windmill of steel in the ambient torch light. The Allfather must truly favor this one, because he managed to deter most of the attacks with desperate parries by his halberd, but he too suffered a grievous wound. Dagrak managed to heal him just in time to keep him from collapsing, and the archer put two arrows in the creature’s eyes, finally blinding it. I charged the furthest idol, destroying it in a single slice. Again the ground shook again, with more intensity this time.

I moved toward the center idol while Brandaelfr regained control of his halberd after the terrible injury. Fergurth continued to plug the demon with arrows, and Dagrak healed the warrior of Odin again. The Peshkali somehow managed to target the Dwarf with at least one of his swords, although the cleric managed to evade without much trouble.

While Dagrak kept the demon’s attention, I destroyed the last idol, which brought another even stronger quake. The archer almost fell over as she fired two arrows into the ceiling, which would have been hilarious if it had been related to the quake; she mainly just slipped, and were it not for my plan, I probably wound have burst into laughter. The holy warrior took advantage of the Dwarf’s distraction and crippled two of the Peshkali’s arms.

I moved to behind the demon and cut deep lacerations into its elbow joints, and Brandaelfr severed tendons in the remaining functional arms. With its arms all unusable, the Peshkali’s connection with our world was cut off, and the body collapsed instantly as it was sent back from whence it came. Both the Eldhuð and I continued hacking the body to pieces just to be sure it was finished, severing it’s head and limbs for good measure.

As expected, and by the cunning of the Schemer, having conquered the source of the zombie outbreak and defeated such powerful enemies, the targets had all become “friends” not only with me but also with each other. The bonds of camaraderie forged, the group decided to stay together as we traveled to Norðlond.

Once we returned to the surface, we found that the inn was still safe, and they welcomed us as heroes, showering us with food and drink. One of the survivors was a merchant which was heading north to Krayhold, a fishing village where we would be stopping on the way to find passage to Isfjall. He offered to cover room and board for our stay at the village if we guarded his travel.

I do adore when a scheme unfolds, and this one was so well underway that even the most faithless atheist would be unable to deny the hand of Loki weaving his web before our very eyes. With stage three complete beyond every expectation, stage four was about to commence.

This message was last edited by the GM at 16:23, Wed 02 Jan 2019.

Dagrak Torsten
 Dwarf Cleric, 75 posts
 Basic speed 6.25
Thu 21 Feb 2019
at 01:00
You All Meet At An Inn
Storm watch, entry 357

Three weeks it has been since we last had any decent weather. The Lord of Thunder has been quiet, and so I am once again traveling in search of a good storm. Those chaps that I met in the zombie inn were heading to Krayhold, and I decided to go along with them. While they are very good at killing evil things, they are almost as good at getting themselves killed. I decided that they could use a cleric to keep them alive, and what better cleric than a dwarven cleric of the Storm God! It turned out to be a good thing that I accompanied them, but then again, as we all know, “Lightning never strikes at random!” It was his will that blew me to this little town.

When we got to Krayhold, we were soon stopped by a sobbing mother. Her son, Rory, and two friends had gone in search of treasure in a near by cave, and never returned. The story moved my heart, and I soon convinced my traveling friends to assist me in recovering what was lost. We purchased a few supplies, and then headed for this cave. We heard many rumors, before getting out of town. Some said that there was a pirate queen buried there with her “booty”. That one still makes me laugh. There were also tales of evil cultists that had married sea monsters, and a few tales of mermaids. Eventually we found some kids that could show us the way to the cave.

Once we were inside the cave, we were attacked by a giant crab. It put up a pretty good fight but was soon dead. My friends are very good at killing things. Unfortunately, we found the remains of two people, who we later found out were Rory’s friends. The elf found Rory’s tracks leading deeper into the cave, and we followed them. Further into the cave we found the spawn of the cultists. They were half octopuses! Octopi? Octopis? They had eight arms! That is the important part. Like the crab, they were soon dead. We found a lot of weapons, and a toolkit which we stashed to grab later. We went in deeper, and discovered a merry band of skeletons, sitting around a table. They were eating and drinking, but the food and drink had rotted away years ago. It really was a pity; my flask had gone dry some time ago. They turned to fight us but thought better when they saw Brandaelfr’s halberd. It really is a pretty thing, and it always scares the living daylights out of the undead. They also soon died, and more loot including weapons, clothes, coins and dishes were stashed away for later.

Just past the pile of bones was a door marked Captain’s Quarters. The large hulking Barbarian is getting smarter and refusing to follow Drakul’s suggestions. Loki’s little sneak thief may have overplayed his hand with a few too many tricks. It is all very fun to watch. He tried to get Mog to go into the room first, and the Half-orc flat out refused. Drakul seemed so wounded to be considered untrustworthy. It was hilarious. Once inside we found a ship’s log recounting the final fate of the pirate crew what made this cave their home. We also found a map of the caves and a bottle of Copper Cask Whiskey. The Bottle must have been over 100 years old, that clan has been lost for near that long. I have heard tales of the majesty of this dram, but never in my wildest dreams thought that I might be so close to an actual bottle. But I did not partake, a bottle that rare would be worth a pretty penny.

Using the map, we soon found the rooted remains of the pirate ship, haunted by the Draugr Pirate queen herself. She had spent the years enraged at the betrayal of her quartermaster, Bloody Jack. The trickster jumped at the chance to fool yet another person… thing… former person? Come to think of it, I don’t know if he’s ever fooled an undead before… Either way, he sent the elf to procure a random skull, which he convinced the pirate belonged to her long dead foe. Unfortunately, while my back was turn, the bastard thought it funny to toast his joke by cracking open the Copper Cask, and pouring a dram for both him and the Lass. I could almost weep seeing her try to drink that expensive whiskey. It just poured down and drenched her bones. But then she sank down and her spirit departed, so I suppose it worked, but couldn’t he have done it without wasting the whiskey?

After our encounter with the Draugr, we came across some fish men. They had captured a lovely little mermaid lass and were about to do unspeakable things to her.  They were, like most every other foe in this cave, easily killed and the mermaid was freed. I healed her, and we then carried her to the sea and freedom. Before she swam off, she gave us a magic ring, and the knowledge that the monster which inhabited the cave was a storm demon. At last I understood while the winds had sent me here. These cults are dabbling with powers that do not belong to them. I had been sent to be the Storm God’s Hammer and smash this blight.

Before entering its lair, I prayed for protection against lightning for myself and all of my friends. It was good that I did that, because an evil covered the room, and weakened my prayers. We killed the guards and stormed into the room. Poor Rory was hanging above a pool, probably food for the creature, and there was a fishman who began casting lightning at us. The poor bastard never realized that a Cleric of the Lord of Thunder was protecting this party. Well he might of realized, I was yelling really loudly as I charged at him. Some of his fish friends tried to get in our way, but we killed them and closed around the blasphemer. The storms would be proud of me, for it was my hammer that ended him. It. I don’t really know if it was a him. Either way, he died crawling on the ground, deeply regretting his life choices.

As it died, a demonic giant jellyfish floated out of the water. It attacked all of us with lightning. If I hadn’t been here, most of the party would easily have died. But with the protection of the storms upon us, we set about carving it to pieces. At last, I dropped my shield and grabbed its tentacle. The solid one, not the lightning ones. I need to talk to a priest to see if that is even possible. That would be amazing. But I grabbed its tentacle and yanked it to the ground. As it fell towards me, I crushed it with a mighty blow, and the vengeance of the Storm God was complete.

Brandaelfr cleansed the chamber of it’s evil, and I healed poor Rory. We then spent several days hauling all of the loot out of the cave. The Lord of Thunder well repays those that serve him.

p.s. I have decided to continue traveling with these odd companions that I have found. The storms seem to have chosen them for some task and set me as their protector. I will continue to watch over them.