Session 1 — Tales from the Bard: The Violent Village

Once upon a time in a faraway land, a group of adventurers awoke on a deserted beach: a monk, an archer, a druid, a warlock, and, of course, The Bard. With nothing on the beach but sand and monsters, the group marched onward in search of honor and glory, guided by the “reliable” voices heard in the monk’s head. The group walked and walked and, as the sun fell, they came across a most friendly fire, its only occupant an aging hermit. While others would be hesitant, Milo Morstrum knew his reputation would carry them into the man’s good graces, and he approached the hermit and introduced his group. The hermit (tentatively named Remi the Second the Lesser, the Second of his Name), bewildered at his good fortune in meeting a celebrity, could scarcely keep his wits about him, but after a while the group was able to surmise that he was fleeing from “bad men” from the northwest.

The night approached as suddenly as a druid would suddenly summon a lady-dog for a guy-dog to “play with”, and the group settled in. The beach was certainly a change from their prior misfortunes. The food was plentiful, the beach was warm, and the sounds of mystic boars could be heard screaming in the woods. All but the last thing was welcomed and the group was suddenly alerted to the magic boar running back to its druidic master, a troupe of undead clawing at its side! As if this was not enough, more of the foul creatures emerged from the woods, and they did not look friendly. Most adventurers would cower before such a sight, but Milo inspired the group to fight on, and with a flurry of fists and swords the creatures were vanquished.

Eager to find their missing firbolg friend and learn more of this mystery island with its capricious inhabitants, the group set out once more to seek out answers. They passed more of the undead, but the group thought it rude to interrupt even vile creatures whilst they were having a meal. Manners must always come first, after all. After trekking for hours, they finally reached their first settlement: a small town encased in an eight foot wall. Though it was midday, instead of a bustling town only a thick silence could be heard. “Shall we sneak in?” questioned the druid. “Perhaps we should peek over the wall,” replied the warlock. “No,” said the monk, “we should walk up to the gate and introduce ourselves loudly, weapons sheathed. There is no need to worry about a town full o’ zombies”.

After receiving no answer at the gate, the group let themselves in. It was only a few steps into the town when the first zombie shockingly emerged. The Bard quickly stepped forward to charm the zombie with his glamour, but the zombie was not star-struck as Milo had hoped but instead rushed forward, likely wanting an autograph! Milo bravely hid behind a nearby barn to plan his next move when the zombie reached the party, changing his focus to the monk. As Milo prepared a cunning strategy, he looked up to notice a town full o’ zombies, many of them crowding around him. “Have no fear Hank, I will not fall this day!” Milo exclaimed, certain he was moments away from being ripped apart, “go play over yonder while I dispatch these villains”.

As Hank bolted, Milo was prepared to make his final stand. But what was this? A puff of smoke followed by a radiant blast? A magical arrow that pierces through dozens? A massive goat plowing through the hordes? A zombie getting his goddamn head punched off?! His companions, empowered by Milo’s plight, rallied their strength and dispatched zombies by what was certainly the hundreds or thousands! As Milo insulted the final zombie so hard its tears left him dehydrated and he crumbled to dust, the group finally was able to catch their breaths and take stock of the town.

Seemingly empty, the silence was broken by an old woman who emerged from the central building. Understanding that her town was safe again and grateful to her heroes, the woman exclaimed, “What the fuck is that turtle thing?”. Understanding that her thanks needed clarification, a half-orc also emerged and ushered the old woman inside. He explained that these zombies were what remained of their loved ones and that the first of them arrived almost a month ago. There were other tales of whirlpools and monsters, cities surrounded by moats, walls, and secrets, but these were no matter to Milo. All that mattered was the day was saved, thanks to the Magnificent Milo Morstrum… (et al.).