Adventures of Dadd episode 2

Dadd drifted in and out of consciousness as sweat formed on his brow and then chilled him to his bones. He had plague. He felt like he was dying and indeed wished he would at times. He rolled from side to side unable to get comfortable and moaned in between coughs and sniffles. He felt like his face was melting.

In the midst of his anguish, his children called to him. They begged him for food, unable to find any. Their calls stirred his spirit and he found some remaining strength to lift his aching body from the bed and stand. The room spun around and he nearly fell to the ground but he managed to remain upright. Stumbling he sought his children. They were gathered together trying to decide how to find something to eat. Dadd stood, head throbbing and looked through squinted eyes.

“I will score something to eat,” Dadd mumbles.

“But father you’re ill!” The children pleaded.

“Bless you my children, you are good. But I am your father and I will find you something to eat.”

“Thank you dear man!” They cried together.

Drawing a cloak round his neck and gripping his bow, Dadd stumbled from their home and into the wild.

The wind chilled his face and sleet stung his flesh but he endured. With all his might he trudged looking for tracks of some beast that could feed his offspring. At last he found some.

The tracks were faint but he was able to follow even in the weather. At last he saw through the swirls of sleet his mark. A box of Lucky Charms pranced in the snow the clean white drifts kicking up around the food.

Dadd pulled an arrow and drew it back in his bow, aiming carefully. He exhaled then loosed his arrow. The missile flew true and struck its mark, downing the meal.

Dadd dragged the box back to his children and there was much rejoicing in the bounty he offered while he climbed back into bed, half wishing the plague would take him and end his agony.

Playing a Barbarian D&D 5E

Sidharth Chaturvedi - Barbarian.png

I finally broke out of my favorite characters and created a barbarian. I usually tend towards the support characters because the role playing aspect of the game is my favorite and I don’t actually care much for how much damage my character can do or treasure items he finds. I love when my bard “Justin Timberlake” woos a hostile cult member into leaving her fanatical faith to travel and adventure with me though. Or playing a cleric and ever greeting characters in game by asking them if they’ve “heard the good news.” These things bring me great joy. So a barbarian is not in my wheel house, but I found a way.

I need to own my character and the quirky nature he has in order to get fully immersed into the game. So I made a barbarian named “Leny” who loves animals, wants to “live off the fat of the land” and calls everyone “George.” It has been an absolute blast. As you may have guessed if you ever had to read “Of Mice and Men,” Leny is not bright but is exceptionally strong and has a bit of an anger management problem when provoked or scared. He also is pretty good at smashing bad guys, but that’s not why I love him.

I love playing Leny because he is so much fun! He literally spends time trying to pet any animal he comes across. This has worked out very well so far. Upon meeting a super hostile Tressym, he rolled a critical on his animal handling and the pet has not left his side since. Leny managed to teach it a couple of commands and the flying cat lead us to an exceptionally dangerous beast in our last session. Very helpful. And when a hostile group landed near us on giant vultures, Leny again rolled a critical for animal handling and pet the carrion eaters baffling the would be adversaries and eventually they left without conflict.

For any who don’t care about how many pets their character can gather let me explain why else he is amazing. When raging the barbarian only suffers half damage on physical attacks. This is extremely worthwhile because the barbarian tends to get hit. I took the path of the “Totem Warrior” and decided that a bear is Leny’s spirit animal so now he takes half damage for any attack that isn’t psychic. This literally saved Leny’s bacon multiple times. Nearly every encounter in fact and as a result he has an every growing necklace of beast incisors.

Overall a solid class to play and it has been refreshing to be able to dive into the middle of the action while also enjoying the fun role playing aspect.

Cheers, may all your rolls be criticals.Tressym.jpg

Bump in the Night

Bump in the night
Bump in the night
What things go bump in the night?
What things fill us with fright?
Go bump in the night?

The zombie shuffles, stumbles, stomps
He hungers for flesh, his jaw chomps
He’ll tear off your warm flesh in clomps
Feast on you till your hear no longer pumps

Bump in the night
Bump in the night
What things go bump in the night?
What things fill us with fright?
Go bump in the night?

The spider spies and crawls, stalking
He’s very patient in darkness waiting
You’re nearing now, eight eyes see you walking
He can nearly taste your blood he’s wanting

Bump in the night
Bump in the night
What things go bump in the night?
What things fill us with fright?
Go bump in the night?

A pack of wolves in the darkness howl
Shivers run your spine as they growl
Razor sharp teeth hidden by snarling jowls
They hunt you in dark, ambitions foul

Bump in the night
Bump in the night
What things go bump in the night?
What things fill us with fright?
Go bump in the night?

The vampire the most frightening of all
Your blood speaks to them, they answer its call
Creep carefully and silently down the hall
Or on your neck their fangs will fall

Bump in the night
Bump in the night
What things go bump in the night?
What things fill us with fright?
Go bump in the night?

See you tonight!


Woods. Not a dwarf’s favorite environment. No, they much more prefer the rock and ore of the caves deep in a mountain to the open air and engulfing darkness of woods. The river runs nearby making it difficult to hear anything else. Even the river does not comfort. Any manner of dangerous creature may emerge from its waters to strike at you. So what will it be? Hug the river and hope there is nothing dangerous, or the tree line where you know there is something dangerous? Already beasts ambushed you from its deceitful shadows. What else lurks in there? Nothing good you imagine.
It is not easy to explain, yet you are confident that indeed something is watching you. You stare intently into the depths of the woods but cannot see the beasts that stare back. You shiver thinking about what may lie so near yet entirely unseen. Another lion? Bears? Trolls? Or worse, something you have yet to encounter.

As you rest a moment and regroup, your party does what it can to try and determine the nature of the imminent threat. No one is especially comfortable in the woods however and information is difficult to come by. The dwarves are especially grumpy about it, kicking dirt and grumbling, unable to determine anything useful from the clues around them. The minotaur however notices some tracks. Multiple actually.

Studying the ground carefully around the river, Ferdinand declares that there are at least two distinguishable tracks. One set looks like they were made by a wolf, possibly multiple. The other set looks like it was made by a man, again there could be more than one. This brings up a whole new set of questions.

Are the tracks related? Was the man hunting the wolf? Or perhaps the wolf was hunting the man. Who lives in the woods? Elves? What kind of wolf was it? Most importantly however is the burning question, are any of these things still nearby and are they tracking the party? The entire group stares at the foreboding and towering trees. None of you know for sure what lies beyond. It makes you wish you were at the orc caves already. Almost.

Game intro: A heroes work is never done

Konigsberg relies on you over and over again to keep it from collapse and every time you managed to come through. You are heroes. You repelled goblin attacks, located druids to help you in your defense, defeated skeletons and recovered weapons designed for a similar foe. You uncovered a traitor in your midst and saved some dwarf slaves. Most recently you saved the captain of the guard from capture and learned that indeed Lord Gareth has been plotting the demise of the dwarves from the beginning. Captain Jared got in his way and was nearly eliminated. The questions remains what to do about Gareth…
The night is well established as guards interrogate the remaining thug that held Jared. Clerics attend the Captain in a room nearby and heal his wounds. The group gathers around the long table in Konigsberg hall with Arsenal ever present at its head. The veteran dwarf scowls with deep lines across his forehead like the lines of ore his people mine deep in the caverns and caves of the mountains. His eyes are dark and penetrating. At last he speaks, his voice a rumble like the mountains that bore him:
“We cannot stand such subversion any longer. Gareth has tried to undermine our efforts from the beginning. It is clear to me now. Something must be done. We cannot continue to resist the enemy at our gates while one stabs at our backs. I worry that there is only one course of action.”
Gnarl growls and slams his fist, “I’m not worried,” the dark warrior shouts. “Gareth brought this upon himself. We are at war! Besieged! We will fall if we have to spend precious energy fighting his thugs while we should be spending it on the bloody goblins! I say we deal with him once and for all!”
“But we do not know what we are up against,” cautions Arsenal, ever calm even in the face of calamity. “How wide his is influence? How deep are his pockets? What if such an action incites open civil war within our city?” 
“Then we’re dead already!” Gnarl shouts. “There is no more time! We must end this tonight! Every day we waste allows him to grow stronger and us to get weaker. Soon it will be too late. We saved the captain and killed some of his men. I say we do it now. Before he can regroup!”
There is a pause as eyes shift between the warrior and the master cleric. They juxtapose strength and anger against wisdom and patience. It seems there could be no resolution between them. Then Jared slowly and proudly walks into the hall. His armor is dented and bloodied. His face is worn and bruised but his eyes shone bright like the moon reflecting off a pool at midnight. All pause and look at the proud captain and trusted ally. He waits a moment before speaking as if to gather strength from the honor the group offers him. 
At last he speaks, loud and strong, “We must attack Gareth tonight. He will not be satisfied until he controls Konigsberg. He will continue to subvert your efforts and he is willing to let the entire city fall in the process. It ends tonight. This has gone too far. I’m heading there now.” He turns and sword in hand begins marching from the hall and into the night.
Who’s with him? 

Dragon Slaying

I awoke with a sharp pain in my chest my head spinning and throbbing like an orcish drum was beating inside. I tried to open my eyes but they were swollen and bloodied. My mouth too tasted of blood and my arms and legs ached as I tried to move them. My body was broken like a clay pot and it burned as if on fire. The pain torched my mind and I struggled to remain conscious. Through the fog I looked around and found myself in a rusty cage, iron bars twisted a tortured. The ground was rocky and rough and cut into my naked flesh. I considered closing my eyes and giving in to the agony.

I searched the dim memories that remained to try and make sense of where I was and how I got there. Only brief images flashed before me. There was joy and singing and drinking. A wedding. Then fire and screaming and running. A fight broke out and there was much damage. A burst of flame hit me. Everything else was black. After that there was nothing but pain.

A tear formed in my eye and slid down my cheek cleaning away the blood and grime that collected there exposing underneath clean flesh—alive and pure. My breath was heavy as despair threatened to choke me. An enormous weight pressed down on me, pinning me to the floor of my cell. I could not imagine a way out. I was a caged beast. Stripped naked and left alone to rot—I despised myself. I saw myself from above my own body. I was beaten and bruised—a smoldering wick about to flicker one last time before floating away in a puff of smoke.

Just as my breath threatened to slip away for ever, a breeze of air hit my nostrils and reminded me for moment how sweet life can be. I remembered joy. I remembered love, even though they seemed like a lifetime away. I was happy once. I was in love once. There was music and dancing and food. If those things existed once, they could exist again. But I had to escape my confines and kill the beast that defeated and bound me.

I sat up in one burning motion hands gripping the dusty ground as I allowed the scene to assault me. Through strained eyes I saw that I was the captive of a dragon. My heart sank. Beyond the cage, rusted and rough, there was a collection of affects which once belonged to now lost souls. Swords, shields, armor, helmets and an assortment of other arms and armaments were scattered about. Mine too were there. Trophies for the beast. Another man bested and beaten. His bones to lick clean. Not yet.

Beyond that I caught a glimpse of the dragon. It was sleeping on its hoard down the hall. Piles of gold and plunder littered the room and on top of it all was the beast. Large and monstrous from the gluttony that consumes its soul it sat. On a monument to its sins. A shock of electricity shot through me energizing my limbs and recharging my heart which beat with new purpose and focus. I saw my sword lying nearby. I knew what I had to do.

The cage was old and rusted—constructed long ago. Still, I knew breaking through would hurt. I looked around my trappings but found nothing useful for breaking free. It would have to be me. I pounded on the bars searching for one that might be weaker or looser than the others. The bars cut and scraped my hands and blood dripped from them like rain from the clouds. The pain shot up my arms and taunted my mind again threatening to overtake me and render me helpless once more.

I leaned back against the far end of the cage and drew breath in deeply. A single thought came to me. Break out. I closed my eyes, sucked in as much strength from the air as I could and heaved myself forward shoulder first legs pumping as hard as they could and blood boiling in my veins while leaking from my hands. I crashed and darkness gripped me once more furious with my efforts it laughed and called me futile and weak. My body screamed but my mind was numb. Only one thing mattered—slay the dragon.

Once again I found myself teetering on the edge of doom but maintained a weak grip on life. I coughed and pulled myself up. I broke my rusty cage! My mind screamed for me to run, but there was something that had to be done. The dragon had won. But I had come to keep it from bringing more ruin.

My sword lied nearby in the dust, my shield and armor as well. It seemed like ages since I wielded them. How long had it been? A day? A year? Ten? I couldn’t remember. Dragons are enchanting and it had entrapped me. It didn’t matter at that moment. I pulled my armor on, strapped on my shield, the crest of my family boldly painted on it, and gripped my sword. As my fingers wrapped around it I felt its cold steel on my flesh and knew that it could pierce the dragon’s heart. It felt like cold ice, so strong it could counter the dragon’s fire. My eyes focused and my back straightened. My chest swelled and teeth set. Slay the dragon.

I strode into the hoard. The beast was there unaware of my escape. “I’m free dragon!” I shouted.

The best was startled and scrambled to the top of its treasures and prepared to defend. “How did you escape?” it snarled, “The enchantment should not have worn off!!!”

I smiled, “I don’t know beast, but this ends here. I’m free and I want what you took from me.”

The dragon stretched its proud neck and laughed which sounded like thunder clapping. “You’ll never escape! You’re too weak and pathetic! I defeated you once and I’ll do it again! You’ll die here, my slave!”

I braced myself. I didn’t take long. The dragon unleashed a barrage of flame. It was hot enough to boil water and melt the flesh from my bones but I lifted my shield and crouched down. The flames parted around my shield and flowed around like water around a rock. The shield heated and burned my arm. The armor became an oven and began to cook me inside. I gritted my teeth and waited for the assault to cease.

At last the dragon was out of breath and gasping after such an exertion. I saw my chance and swelled to prepare for my attack. I charged up the dragon’s hoard kicking useless trinkets out of the way collected through the years of pillaging and plundering. The serpent shifted, keeping its snapping jaws in front…protecting its bulbous body. Its teeth were sharp and breath reeked of death and decay which forced me to avert my eyes as they burned.

The lizard snapped at me and I ducked to avoid the attack, slipping in the process. I tumbled down the hoard and rolled onto my back. The beast saw its opportunity and attacked. Scrambling down the mountain it was on me snapping and snarling trying to finish me. I rolled one way and another narrowly avoiding death or worse—recapture. Claws crashed around me and jaws snapped, debris fell all around and created a tornado of chaos. I felt lost in the panic and survived only by divine protection. I neared the bottom of the pile and noticed that I was running out of room. I knew if I was pinned against the wall I would be finished.

Instead I charged toward the dragon. It bit at me and caught my shield which I held high above me to protect my body. I let go of it even while I heard my arm snap and sharp pain shoot through me. My eyes closed as I let the pain pass but without opening them I gripped my sword with both hands; as strongly as I could with the damaged one, and thrust up. I felt the sword resist and my chest compress. There was a crashing sound like a mountain falling. The world went dark.

I couldn’t decide if I was alive or dead. I didn’t care too much in that moment. Either way I knew it was over. Either I was dead, the dragon was dead or both of us. I was free no matter how it played out and I was happy. I felt warm as though the sun shone down on me and soothed my cold body. I soaked it up and let it flow through me and it healed my soul. A light coursed through me and reached to the corners of my being. I smiled.

Finally I opened my eyes. I was alive. I breathed, though it hurt, and my heart beat even so it was labored. I tried to sit and while my body ached I managed to pull myself up. I picked up my head and looked around. I was alone. The dragon’s blood was every where and even on me but she was not there. My sword lied next to me. My armor was dented and damaged so I tossed it off. I stood with my sword in my hand naked, bruised, bloodied but alive and felt stronger than ever. I vanquished the dragon. I saw a heavy purple cloak nearby in the piles of treasures stored up for her enjoyment and wrapped it around my body. Near it was a crown—simple silver but clean and polished. I placed it on my head.

Then I ran down a passageway. With each stride I felt stronger, more alive and healthier. I ran down halls and passed more cages. A light beckoned me though far away and I chased it faster each step. I smelled the sweet scent of freedom and heard the call of liberty. My legs moved with ease and feet floated off the ground as I ran into freedom’s arms. Busting forth from the mouth of the cave I was bathed in warmth and healing. I fell to my knees and kissed the ground, eyes closed and heart racing.

For a long moment I sat back and enjoyed my first breaths of liberty that I could even remember. And a soft voice called to me. I looked up and saw a beautiful maiden with flowing black hair and warm eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you my prince,” she whispered as she tended to my wounds. I fell before her and allowed her loving hands to treat me. I dreamt of my new life, free from dragons and free at last.

Epic of Cruhand the Rat Killer

So as a guy interested in fantasy and historical epic I decided to try and write some. It is not really that difficult because epics don’t necessarily rhyme and so I put together a form and tried it out. I decided that my epic form would have 10 syllables per line, 10 lines per stanza and 10 stanzas. Easy enough right? Well, here was my first attempt at it for a friend I game with.

The Epic of Cruhand the Rat King Killer

This is the story of a brave fighter.

He was a warrior from a land afar.

From the dark mysterious mountains.

In a land bathed in ever burning flame.

Where the dragons once ruled for an ion.

A place where only the strongest may live.

Where the weak are devoured by evil.

He was born with the blood of the dragon.

He grew up with a thirst for adventure.

His foes shook when they heard his name; Cruhand.


I, Rick James the Silver Tongue, first knew him,

Escaping from Rheek the Rat King’s sewer.

He and his brave band of adventurers

Were hacking and slashing their way inside.

I thought I was doomed with rats and ogres

Blocking my exit from the wretched place.

But ignoring the danger they attacked.

With much ferocity the foes were felled.

Shortly, before me lay our enemies.

With introductions I joined the party.


Their goal and now mine was to kill the Rat

So returning from whence I came we went.

And pushed through a space made for stinky rats.

Before we emerged on the other side

We were waylaid by a group of green slimes.

Cruhand and the rest went on the attack,

And our draconic hero was swallowed.

The slime began to digest his hard hide.

But succumbed to his fiery breath.

Slimes melted like jello we continued.


We journeyed into a pit for Rheek’s pet.

And nearly snuck by it undetected.

But the beast awoke and quickly attacked.

And Cru just laughed at the challenge at hand.

And pounded the beast with fist, breath and tail.

Bravely we fought the hideous creature.

Its tentacles whipped and smacked us around.

All the while Cru had his mark on the fiend.

Taunting it and teasing it to attack.

In bloody cries fell both hero and beast.


We gathered round to examine the mess

Fearing Cruhand had succumbed to his wounds,

The beast laying slaughtered covered in blood,

Cru faintly mumbled to hand him his hat.

Alive but injured there was one option.

We would bring our friend and cure his wounds.

I used my cunning to bluff by the guards.

Leading the team until Cru could be healed.

We disposed of more guards and fought gargoyles.

Finally resting in the Rat’s own nest.


With aid from me and a grumpy cleric

Cru was recovered and ready to kill.

Down hallways and into a room with ogres,

Cru yelled “plan A” and charged in with no fear.

Surrounded he fought in front and in back.

While I bluffed an ogre so cleverly.

The dragon man roared and spit holding tight.

Swinging and charging no thought for safety.

Cru and the group slaughtered all that challenged.

Countless guards and ogres met their demise.


I intercepted a guard getting help.

Enduring bolts from his deadly crossbow.

Evading him by crawling like a rat,

I quickly made my way to the prison.

With my grand silver tongue I bluffed the guards

Into releasing an ally they held.

But before I could escape with the man,

The archer fired a bolt in my back.

With battle raging, me nearly beaten,

Cruhand and group arrived and crushed them all.


Nearly to our goal I tricked all the guards

To think that Cruhand was heading away.

With madness they chased up to the surface.

Leaving us to find Rheek in his throne room.

But “Plan A” failed us as turning the door,

Dropped us into a pit with rot grub beasts.

The worms tried to eat their way through our skin,

But they could not overcome the dragon!

Cruhand burned the worms with his fire breath.

He crawled from the pit even angrier.


He burst through the door finally at his goal.

Guards and ogres would not stop him this time.

Too many times had Rheek escaped his fate.

The party made quick work of others there.

And Cruhand charged the Rat King on his throne.

His foot in an iron boot he fought on.

His hat looking magnificent as always.

Missing time after time, not losing heart,

He kept fighting, not accepting defeat.

Finally the Rat King died at his feet.


But Cruhand’s rage was still unsatisfied.

Even gold and jewels were still not enough.

He crushed statues and even Rheek’s stone throne,

Showing the way to even more riches.

He collected those and searched the whole room.

But he look around for more things to take,

Crawled in a hole too small for our hero.

There a rat attacked him, gnawing his face.

There he died having come all that way,

Beat the king, but another rat’s dinner.