I’m posting these so that I can be less afraid to create stuff. And to have fun, of course!!! Blehhgh. It’s inspired by the campaign I’ve been running. It’s my first time playing R&R, and I just love it so so sooo much. But emphasis on INSPIRED. Don’t read this expecting spoilers. Honestly, maybe just wait to read it. I’m looking at you, Naomi. Just cause your character has clairvoyance DOESN’T mean I’ll tell you stuff.
The Characters and Events depicted are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead…or undead, or in the future is partially coincidental across the known universe.
Chapter 1
It was raining, pouring even. The usual pitter-patter against the thick windows of The Modest Oak™ that would comfort the occasional guest was currently more of a BOOMer BAMer. It had been in this harsh condition for about 10 days straight, and not a soul had triggered the makeshift bell by the front door in probably much longer. However, the tavern keeper had perfected a daily routine. One that didn’t care about weather or how many patrons showed up. With a small desk and cot in the loft on the second floor, the only sunlight he ever got came through the windows. Quite sad and pathetic for someone so able-bodied.
“Welcome to The Modest Oak!! We have the most refined ale for a hundred miles!”
A beat of silence.
“Ahem, hem. Too eager…Welcome to The Modest Oak!! Take a seat, have a laugh.” Rolling his eyes, “Have a laugh? And I shouldn’t announce the name. It’s written right on the building.”
He picks up a pristine glass and starts to wipe it down.
“Hey. Want a break from the rain? What can I get you?” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before returning to the unfinished list of tasks for the day. He still had to start fermenting a new batch of Ale. Although the rhythmic drum of the rain kept his mind from wandering, a certain feeling began creeping its way into his tiny little head. Loneliness.
Another few days passed the same way. Ron was supposed to get his shipment of Barley and Wheat the previous day from his much taller, much cooler friend Jon. He stood by the back door, ready for the little social interaction he actually enjoyed, but it never came. This was the first red flag that had actually made him start to worry. Last year, when an eternal winter was set off by some old witch, Jon still came by, almost freezing to death. Ron briefly opened the door, but all he saw was rain. Maybe this time it was an older, evil-er witch.
“Welcome to The Moddy Oaker!! Fresh Ale brewed right below your feet!” A deep sigh. He whispered, “Somebody walk in, somebody walk in, walk in, walk in, walk in…”
Silence.
“Ughhhhhh.” Ron’s head fell to the desk as he let out a deep groan. So deep and guttural that it completely masked the bell. With his head still in his arms, “Welcome to Ron’s Crappy Ale tavern! Stale ale so bitter, it’ll inflict an evil, rotten curse!! You’ll be wishing you never spent your hard-earned coin!!!”
“Maybe a drink best served to an adversary. Such a curse would be quite useful.” A soft voice with an awfully sinister undertone spoke. Ron’s ears perked up as he shot up so quick it cracked his tired back.
Before he could even register who he was looking at, “NO CURSES!! The Ale’s actually quite tasty!! Welcome! I brew it all myself!! It’s the Modest Tavern. Have a laugh from the rain, what can I ale you?” Before him was a tall, pale elf in long, pitch-black robes. So dark they absorbed every ounce of light that touched them, making it hard to read her stance.
After a slight expression of disdain, “No curses, what a shame.” She took a moment to scan the room and look Ron up and down. “Do you live here?”
“Oh. Well, yes! I have a nice loft upstairs. Is there anything I can get for you? I haven’t been receiving any shipments recently, so I don’t really have much food.” Ron had never seen this woman before. There weren’t many elves that lived in this part of the country, but it wasn’t uncommon. After getting used to her strange clothing, it seemed as though she was extremely tense, ready to pounce at the slightest change.
“No. Obviously you live inside of this…shack. What I mean is, do you live down here?” She made a slight gesture out the door.
“What do you mean…down here? We’re a bit up Mount Stolt. If anything, it would be up here.” Ron was very perplexed. His brain formed the only few wrinkles it had. The stoic lady grew more annoyed.
“Are you trying to mess with me? No one messes with me. For I am Saint Crimson of the Night church. Now tell me, why are you living in the Abyssal Dungeon?”
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Ron
HP – 43
Mysterious Lady
HP – 32
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Thanks for reading chapter 1!!! Sorry it was short; school’s kicking my ass, so I don’t have much time for writing, but I wanted to start being more consistent!! Hopefully it wasn’t too serious. I’ll try to write some more jokes if I can, but I’m already so excited! In my mind, this is stuff that happened before the events of my first actual session! Thanks for reading. And if it’s Rika reading this, give me back my pen!! That was literally my favorite pen, and you’re pretending you have no idea. Find it, or apologize. Thanks!
