text: I walked through the heavy wooden doors of the dimly lit tavern, the cool night air giving way to the warmth and scent of ale and roasting meats. The walls were adorned with familiar faded tapestries that depicted mythical beasts and heroic battles, a fire gently crackled in the centre of the large room, and the rough-hewn planks of the floor creaked loudly underfoot. Arlen, the Elvish barman, nodded to me from behind the bar, and I gave him a small wave. The sound of dice landing on a table filled the room for a moment. Momentarily distracted by the Dragonborn bard on the small stage set up in the corner, I scanned the room for any sign of the others. She continued to strum her lute, the notes of her mournful ballad filling the room with a spellbinding tone that seemed to cast a spell on the place. The crowd was sparse, made up of a few locals nursing their drinks and food. I spotted a group of rough-looking adventurers huddled together in a corner and approached their table, the three figures still huddled, deep in conversation. "Howdy all," I said as I pulled up a chair, "I guess we’re still waiting for our contact?" The others looked up at me and smiled, their faces illuminated by the flickering candlelight on the wall above the table. There was Nia, the elven rogue, her features sharp, and piercing green eyes taking in everything in a glance; Drog, the hulking dwarf barbarian, his beard long, and muscular frame intimidating; and lastly Fiona, the human druid, her flowing brown hair entwined with braids of flowers, her expression serene. “We are waiting on the merchant himself,” Drog explained loudly into his ale, “Wanted to meet us all together.” The Orc server approached us with a friendly smile, and I ordered drinks and food to tide us over until the merchant arrived. And we waited. We discussed our previous adventures and expressed our curiosity for the quest ahead. Nia recounted the time she had infiltrated a heavily guarded castle and stolen the Crown of Shadows. “Where is it now?” I asked, as chicken juices dripped down my chin. She let out a long sigh, but Drog was quick to jump in. “She lost it in a bet! Could you believe? Such a powerful item, and she loses it to the likes of a dwarf! HA!” Nia rolled her eyes, “I’ll get it back, you mark my words.” “Wanna bet on it? Ha!” Drog laughed into his ale as he held up an ornate headpiece, made of a dark, shimmering metal. It was studded with black diamonds, the edges adorned with intricate and delicate carvings. Nia just continued to glare at the dwarf. Drog then regaled us with the tale of how he had single-handedly defeated a small army of goblins. Again, the sound of dice could be heard rattling on a table. After he had waffled for a time, Nia said, “It wasn’t a small army. I heard it was only ten.” Drog nearly choked on what would be his fourth ale, “Whhaaaa?” Nia smirked, “I know when you’re talking trash old friend. Besides, Berrand was with you and he said that you were lucky you tripped as the chieftain overcommitted to swinging his axe. Apparently he made a pretty mess at the bottom of the cliff.” “Alright, you got me this time, but you saw me take out that Bearowl single-handedly! Don’t you forget!” Drog scowled into his ale. Fiona said serenely, “You mean Owlbear, and yes, you always remind us.” Drog shifted his glance to her, “Thank you Fiona, nice to know we are such good friends.” The dice rattled. Fiona absolutely beamed, “We are good friends aren’t we!” The rest of us rolled our eyes, and Fiona, saturated with mind-numbing enthusiasm, went on to tell of her encounters with mystical beasts and the secrets of the natural world. We patiently listened to this secret. “... so fascinated by the pattern and spent several hours studying it, trying to decipher the meaning. I eventually discovered that the pattern is actually caused by lightning hitting the tree! The phenomenon is now called Lichtenberg figures. They’re amazing! So intricate, and it seems the branching patterns are created when high voltage electricity travels through an insulating material, such as wood. That’s what the artificer said when we recreated the effect. He paid me two hundred gold for helping him name it after himself. He was such a nice little Gnome.” We all blinked awkwardly at her words. The last bit of information caught us off guard, but where Fiona was concerned we weren’t surprised that such a random event would work out so favourably for her, even if at her own expense. She was known as the lucky one of the group, although, not always in a useful way. The bard was finished for the night and most other patrons had left, when finally, the tavern door creaked open, and a worried-looking man entered. We immediately recognized him as the merchant we were waiting for. He approached our table, introduced himself, and explained that he had been expecting a caravan with a shipment of beer for some days now. He feared that misfortune had befallen them. He gave us details of where the caravan was travelling and begged us to find out what had happened, and to bring the shipment back to him if possible. The offered reward was quite generous. We listened intently and agreed to take on the job. Everyone was sitting up straighter and eyes keen. The idea of a new adventure, combined with the possibility of a lifetime stirring our adrenaline. Free beer. Free beer for the rest of our lives. It was an enough to make Drog shed a tear of joy. The merchant left, and we gathered our gear to set out into the night. Not wanting to waste any time, we left immediately through the town gates, the road quiet as we headed for the hills. The path was long and winding, and after an hour, we found ourselves deep in the dark heart of the forest, on the path where the merchant expected the caravan to travel. The trees towered over us, their gnarled branches creaking in the wind, as we trudged up the slightly overgrown road. No tracks had been found. "I have a bad feeling." Fiona whispered, her staff in hand as she guided a soft glowing ball of light slightly ahead of us. "Who knows what is lurking in this part of the woods." I held back my tongue from reminding her that she spends more time here than anyone else. Nia nodded in agreement, her sharp eyes scanning the shadows around us. "I'll take point," she said, unsheathing her blades. "Keep close behind me." Drog mumbled under his breath in a whiney voice, “kEeP CLosE BeHiND MmEe... What?” Nia paused. If looks could kill, even in the darkness of the forest, Drog would be six feet under. We moved deeper into the forest, and not before long found a scene of carnage. No wonder the caravan hadn’t arrived. Bodies were everywhere, the evidence of an ambush obvious from the amount damage done to the caravan with little sign of who had attacked. The sound of dice bouncing filled my head. Looking closely at the road, I noticed large footprints and multiple wagon tracks that led off into the bush. It became clear that we were dealing with something larger than goblins. Unsure of what they were, I called Fiona over. “Ogres,” She says without hesitation, “Definitely ogre tracks. I’d say two or three of them. They went that way! Drog, Nia, stop looting the bodies, we know roughly where the wagons went.” Drog and Nia stopped filling their pockets and came over as Fiona cast a spell. Her eyes glowed briefly as she chanted softly, and suddenly, the leaves and twigs seemed to part before us, allowing us to move through the forest with ease. But our stealthy approach was cut short when we suddenly heard a loud roar in the distance. We froze, our hearts pounding in our chests as we listened intently to the sound. "What was that?" Drog whispered, his grip tightening on his axe. "WhAT wAs tHaT?" Nia mocked, pointing to the east where the tracks led. Drog glowered and made shooing motions. Slowly, we approached the source of the sound, the twigs and leaves crunching silently under our feet with every step. The forest grew darker as we drew closer to the source of the disturbance. Our hearts raced with anticipation and fear as we moved closer. Finally, we stumbled upon the scene of the commotion. Three massive ogres, their eyes glassy and unfocused, were swigging from the barrels of beer around a fire where one of the horses was roasting. They were laughing and grunting, and their voices boomed in the clearing. Clearly inebriated, the ogres were stumbling around, their movements slow and clumsy. They belched loudly and laughed boisterously as they drank, seemingly unaware of our presence. But as we drew our weapons and prepared to attack, they suddenly turned to face us, their eyes glinting with malice and hunger, their inebriation making them no less dangerous. The sound of dice was stronger than ever. Barrel of beer came careening towards us but smashed into a tree nearby. Beer sprayed all over us. "Looks like we found our beer," Drog said, grinning wickedly. Without a further word, Drog let out a bloodcurdling roar as he charged straight at the ogres, his axe raised high. "Let's show these bumbling beasts who's boss!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the forest. "I'll take care of them from behind," Nia whispered to the rest of the group. Someone snickered, which made the rest of us giggle. She quickly darted around to the other side of the clearing behind the ogres, her sharp blades glinting in the moonlight as she silently made her way towards their backs. Meanwhile, Fiona closed her eyes and chanted softly. "Mother Nature, lend us your strength," she murmured, her hands outstretched as she focused her energy on the ground beneath her. Vines and thorns suddenly erupted from the earth, ensnaring two of the ogres and holding them at bay. The beasts roared in fury, struggling against the thorny restraints that held them down. As I realised I hadn’t armed my crossbow and began to crank the handle, a phone rang. Time went still. Now sitting at the game table, we’re all exhausted yet excited. Having been fuelled by beers and half eaten packets of chips, we stare at the map and models covering the table. The Dungeon Master, Brett answers the phone and has a brief discussion before hanging up. “I’ve got to get the door.” Brett says as he gets up and leaves. We continue to sit there wondering who would be interrupting us at eleven pm on a Sunday night. Brett returns and announces that it’s time to wrap up for the night. We all groan and protest, not wanting to leave the game so soon. "Can't we just keep playing for a little longer?" asks Carly, who plays Nia, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Yeah, let's see where this goes," Drog, who is played by Josh, chimes in, his voice tired but still keen. But Brett shakes his head. "We'll come back next week," he says, "and pick up where we left off." Suddenly an older man walks into the room from behind Brett. “What the hell is this? Looks like I’ve walked into some medieval fan group convention, or um, what’s it called... a cult.” Brett sighs, “Everyone, this is my uncle Greg, and no, we’re playing Dungeons and Dragons. It’s a role-playing game.” “I thought that was a video game.” Greg asks, “Why you all dressed up?” Alex, who plays Fiona, pipes up, “For fun! It gets us into character. We also went to a D&D convention earlier today.” “D&D?” Greg asks, scratching his beard. Brett clarifies, “It’s short for Dungeons and Dragons. Anyway, now that you’re here we’ll be wrapping up. I’ll take you up to the spare room.” “Wait, so you’re telling me you dressed up and went to this convention today,” Greg says puzzled, “to then come back and play it. How long have you been playing?” I look at my watch before answering, “seven hours now. It was just getting good too.” Greg stands there and looks around at us all, perplexed. “Maybe you should finish the game then. It clearly means a lot to you. No, I’ll watch. I’m curious now. Go on Brett, I’m sure it will only be a few more minutes.” We all smile at Greg. Greg smirks at the rest of us. The sound of dice and vivid descriptions fill the air. The forest clearing came into focus again and Nia, being the fastest of us, managed to hamstring one ogre, dealing critical damage with a sneak attack. It fell to its hands and knees but was it able to lash out a kick that landed right in Nia’s stomach, which caused a rib to crack and wind her badly. One ogre broke free from being ensnared by the vines, only to have Drog stumble into it, causing them both to fall over with the ogre landing on top. From a table in another world, a group of people laughed at the unfortunate turn. Another ogre got its arms free and threw it’s barrel of beer, hitting Fiona and dealing a significant amount of damage. She let go of the entanglement spell and transformed into an owl. She then flew up into the trees out of sight. I got the crossbow loaded and aim at the ogre that kicked Nia. I let it loose and score a hit solidly in the ogre’s chest, only for it to be enraged. It stood up, getting ready to attack while I looked across to see Drog still stuck under the other ogre. With him incapacitated, Nia badly injured and Fiona gone, it was up to me. “Three on one baby. Let’s do this!” I yelled as I dropped my crossbow and drew my sword. I charged towards the nearest ogre when suddenly, bright shimmering orbs of light crackled through the air past me to hit all three ogres with unerring accuracy and an explosion of sparks. The ogre with the crossbow bolt in him fell to the ground dead. The one before me roared in pain as it clutched it’s face, and I impaled it with my sword, dispatching it with a fantastic spray of intestines. The last ogre had got off of Drog, only to burst into flames, but unfortunately they also happened to engulf Drog. An owl screeched and water appeared from above him to douse the flames, leaving him smoking and charred but alive. We all gathered in the middle of the clearing and surveyed the damage. We turned from the direction we came to see an old man with a beard in a grey robe. He waved a staff at us, “Hello adventurers, I am Greg! No? Why can’t I be Greg? Fine. Gandalf. It’s Gand... What do you mean?” We all look at each other from across the table and smile as Brett discusses with Greg the finer details of character development and that although there’s no copyright for using a well known name, it’s not very original. “I can’t believe I did nothing! I just got smooshed by the damn thing.” Drog, or Josh, laughs and throws his hands up in the air. We all jeer and make fun of him as we start to pack up for the evening. It’s past midnight. “We’ll discuss levels and loot next session, just keep tabs on who did what,” says Brett. “Next week, we’ll roll into the actual campaign.” Greg startles at this, “What? That wasn’t the actual campaign? I thought I must have defeated a big boss or something!” “No, that was just a side quest for fun.” Alex says. Josh jumps in saying, “But now that you’ve got a taste, you should join us from the start. We don’t mind helping you as we play. One of us, one of us!” The chant dies quicker than it started. Greg looks around at all the others expectant faces in the room. “You don’t mind? I wouldn’t have to dress up though would I?” “We could use a mage actually. Sounds like a new member has joined the party!” I exclaim. Brett says, “I don’t mind, we can easily work you in. Besides, this might be a good distraction while you figure out your life. I imagine you’ll be living here now for a bit anyway so we can fine tune everything before the next session.” Greg looks around the room and a variety of emotions pass over his bearded face. He smiles and nods. “Alright. I’m in. But no dressing up.” “Yet!” half of us say together laughing. Brett laughs, “We’ll make a hardcore fan of you yet.” Greg rolls his eyes and laughs, “I’ve always wanted to join a cult! Ha!”