No Rest For The Wicked

Twas the night...


’Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
Not a goblin was stirring or even a dire mouse
The weapons were slung by door without care
In hopes that no enemies would soon be there
The unlikely heroes were sleeping not dead
While hopes of Casual Friday danced through their head
Me in my bedroll, journal in my lap
Jotting down my thoughts before I took a nap
When all of the sudden there was quite a clatter

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year


A small winter flake, white as could be, gently floated down from the heavens towards a young wide eyed girl. It tumbled and weaved through the sky making its way closer and closer to the child awaiting it. And once it came within reach, it landed promptly on the girls’ tongue, its fragile existence melting in a second.

“Arneth!” an older woman called, beckoning the child over. Gleefully the child turned, recognizing the voice and bounced happily towards her.

“What is it Mum?” she asked.

The Broken Recovery


An aging sister walked in silence as she carried a tray with meager proportions to the door at the end of the covered walkway.

Knowing knocking would not present her an answer, she calmly opened the door; expecting to see what was familiar to her for the past six months.

Ranger Log #189 - The Dungeon


Tyranny awoke to a searing pain in darkness, gasping for air, taking in a deep breath as if he had been holding his breath for minutes. His shoulders and back were stiff, his head felt like it had an axe in it, and dried blood stained several locations of his battered clothing. The ground he lay on was cold and hard, someone had thrown him on to the ground of this place he recalled. What he did not recall was how he had been captured and why. He rubbed his bruised muscles and looked around straining his eyes to make out what he could about his location. There was only a few torches scattered throughout what appeared to be a dungeon, the dim light wouldn’t have been enough for most to make out more than the bars of their cell but elves have keener eyes than most.

Valyn - Log 17


The sign over the door was dirty but easy enough to read. Valyn had come to this place to learn more rituals as the ones he already knew were lackluster and seldom useful. Today he wanted to learn the art of enchanting.

The solid oak door complained loudly as he swung it inward and stepped into the small shop. He noticed it had the same general layout as the old woman’s magic shop except the smell here was quite different and instead of scroll and tomes, the shelves housed various vials and herbs. It was empty except for Valyn and the shopkeeper.

>8< Spider Pride
Valyn - Log 16


With much of the keep cleared out, we decided to take a break and rest up. Nixie and I were injured the worst and were thankful for the opportunity to replenish our health.

We made our way through the locked door that the spellcaster tried to get through after he realized I was much superior to him and attempted to flee. There were a few wights here but they were easily dispatched with Casual Friday’s epic Turn Undead spell.

Behind Door Number Two
Boys and Their Toys and the Girls Who Take Them Off Their Dead Bodies


It is One of the Many Injustices of the World that All the Bad Guys Have the Best Toys. And One of the Perks of My Job is that I get to Acquire these Marvelous Trinkets as Spoils of War. Let those with Worldly Cares squabble over gold and gems, but My Claim to Grimizul’s Flaming Maul is Undisputed! This is not a Weapon for those Dainty Elfs. The Platinum Paladin might have vied for it, but she still carries my Uncle’s Resounding Warhammer. (Which reminds me, I should grab it the next time she dies… although we have a tendency to die at the same time!)

On the Path to Broken

Arneth looked down at the bodies of the prisoners before her. She could not save them in time from the monster, which in a desperate attempt to do something, decided to kill the as many people as it could, before the thing itself fell. Praying before the bloodied bodies, she hoped Bahamuts protection would keep them safe during their journey to heaven.

Behind Door Number One
Death is Redundant and Elves are Arrogant


After a Short Break to Bind Up Our Wounds and for the Friar to “Rehydrate,” we were faced with Two Doors. Behind Door Number One, Nature Elf heard some Sinister Force threatening to Take Someone’s Eye Out. From behind the Other, he heard what he thought could Maybe… Possibly… be Someone Speaking Dwarven. What? Like he hadn’t heard me Cursing enough in my Native Tongue that he couldn’t Recognize it? I took a Listen and heard a Dwarf Bad Ass Ranting at Someone. Oh and he said Something about Being in League with Those Mage Guys. Faced with these Choices, surprisingly, and without a Committee Meeting, we chose Door Number Two. Well, not totally Impractical, I suppose. Because, really… whoever was being threatened probably had TWO eyes and didn’t need both of them.


“She’s been like this for a month.” A sister whispered to the other. “We simply don’t know what’s going to happen if she ever comes back.”

The door to Arneths room creaked open as the two sisters came to give her lunch. She didn’t acknowledge them as her blank and empty eyes stared forward at the window before her. Even as a little sparrow landed on her windowsill she didn’t blink, never moved.


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