Anyway, that's how I met my first ex-wife. But all I could think about was that damn sorceress. The cultists were Chanting, the clouds were getting darker and the villager in the middle of the throng was getting really nervous. As the I was cutting my way through my bonds, and trying to signal to my mates that we need to stop this. Not 20 feet from this sorceress and her gaggle of cultists. Now, how I got out of that situation with only a dirk and a shovel to my name, is a story that there isn't a cup of mead big enough to buy from me. That's the shit creek, now where's me paddle gone? Well as if the situation wasn't bad enough, there's a cave in that separates me from me mates (got Spencer's leg too), and now I'm alone against a dozen pissed off drow. Now, we're alone in the mountains, one weeks travel from any civilization, and ambushed by a crew of drow. But! We were going through this wicked cave, and suddenly drow, the dark bastards, jump out of the shadows and start shouting at us in broken common. I won't tell, because I might actually get back to that pile o' gold one day. Hah! That's nothing! You want to know what 'up shit creek without a paddle' really looks like? Lemme tell you a story: Me and four of me mates (or so I thought) were going through the mountains with a big load from. They hadn't even properly made off with the stuff, they were just sitting there barely off the road. And, sitting on top of a cart, drunk as hell, were the thieves. He said he'd been walking along when he heard a commotion off the path, went to go check it out. But then comes next week, right? He comes by with two kegs of the stuff. He suffered through the juniper mead, but he sure as hell wasn't happy about it. Some damn fool had made off with the barrels, leaving none for the rest of us. That's the thing, he said, they said they was out. My mum (his sister) asked where the mead was. Heh.I remember one year, he came by, strangely empty-handed. Dunno if I entirely agree, but that's what he would bring over. ![]() We'd usually get that mead with the juniper berries mixed in, but my uncle preferred the rose mead. May cause heartburn for those with hearts.) Good stuff, innit? My uncle's favorite it's basically all he'd drink. Want a taste? (If offer is accepted, the mead is described as being pleasantly sweet and smooth, if a bit dry. Like wine, but made of honey there's a bit of rose in this one, I think. Make 'em happy, even if they said our arrows were orange! And if they stole from others, or said unkind things, why we stabbed them with our cold blue spears to let the people know how to behave like proper folk! Thousands! Everywhere we went we'd work to make people proud of their own accomplishments. I was a Red Arrow, didja know that? Travelled all over these lands, usually in small bands but sometimes they were hundreds of us. Things are different these days, they are indeed. The hard part was getting the stink o' frog guts off of the gnome. That's a good story, but I bet you never saw a goliath hurl a gnome into the maw of an angry froghemoth, the hard part wasn't getting the gnome out of the creature, she did that much herself. ![]() Buy me a top-shelf whiskey and I'll tell you how it happened to the high priest. But you throw enough angry chickens at'em, sooner or later they'll go DOWN. Well, let me tell you: you can take the mightiest knight or wizard in the kingdom, and they'll duel a demigod or storm the gates o'hell. My boots filled so fast I had to walk barefoot to the nearest shelter I could find. You think this is bad weather? I’ve seen it rain so hard that you’d swear it was coming from the ground and the sky at the same time. Turns out a Remorhaze egg had been incubating in her gut from some dodgy stew and she quickly became its first meal. I was once treated to the spectacle of what I thought was a Tabaxi coughing up a hairball. Needless to say by the time spring rolled around I was plus a few Bullywug bites and minus a short bearded friend! Hah! That reminds me of a particularly harsh winter when a dwarf I traveled with thought it’d be fun to explore a cave despite us being low on rations. Took 3 days, and that map reeked up my pack something fierce! So we had to hunt down a rabbit, tan the hide, then burn the map into it. ![]() but anyway, old Bark toes had buried all our paper! Said it was only proper respect for Father Tree. Only old Bark toes, well we called him Bark toes on account of being a druid his real name was Faelwyn (Sounds elvish but he was a Dwarf, damnedest thing really). You fellas make sure to bring ink and parchment, you hear! I remember back, oh, 35 summers ago we found a crypt too big to tackle at the time so we decided to make a map. One hundred interesting stories that a retired adventure can relay to the players.
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