Chapter 1: The First Day (and Welcome!)

Welcome to my blog, where I will be chronicling the story of my adventures alongside a few of my friends in our latest D&D campaign! The current story will be following the 5th Edition "Lost Mines of Phandelver" and will be my own interpretation of the events happening during our session (meaning I will take some creative liberties in my writing). I hope you will enjoy the story and I will try to update this chronicle as often as I could! 

Cast:

Dungeon Master: Hazeeq
Malusflamma: Hazmi
Ryse: Asri
Wingston: Theven

Chapter 1: The First Day

Session 1 (27th April 2018) Part 1

The only sounds resounding over the south-bound stretch of the High Road was the clatter and creaking of a lone heavy ox-driven cart. The traffic was usually light along the Neverwinter-Leilon stretch of the road and is practically empty today.

Two humanoid figures walk alongside the cart with another at the driver’s seat, the ox’s lead in hand. One of the figures on foot wore a long hooded cloak over his leather armour, hiding his visage from his companions. The person underneath the hood was a crimson-skinned Tiefling, his greyish black horns protruding from his forehead backwards over his dark brown hair. He carries a spear on his back, which seemed to be his main weapon.

“We’ve been walking for almost a day with no town in sight. Are you sure we’re on the right path, Dragonborn?” The Tiefling growled, shifting his gaze to the cart driver. The driver, a white-scaled Dragonborn adorned in a set Neverwinterean leather armour , glanced worriedly at the Tiefling, unable to make out the half-demon’s expression from underneath his hood.

 

“It’s not far now, trust me.” The Dragonborn stuttered, his voice too low for the Tiefling to hear.

“Hey, you back there! Human.” The Tiefling hailed the other figure walking on the other side of the oxen cart, ignoring the Dragonborn’s response. “Do you think we’re lost?”

“I don’t know, man.” The spiky-haired human walking near the back of the cart shrugged. He was slightly shorter than the Tiefling, and wore a high-collared robe over his chain mail armour. He carries a mace on his belt as well as a crossbow and a large round steel shield slung across his back. He wore a large golden holy Symbol of some sort of deity. “I trust him, even though I don’t know his name.”

“It’s Ryse.” The Dragonborn answered simply, his eyes still focused on the road ahead.

“Okay then. You guys can call me Wingston.” The human replied.

“I’m Malusflamma of Neverwinter. Call me Malus.” The tiefling introduced himself, tipping his cloak hood to reveal a little bit of his face. His deep purple eyes glowed menacingly from underneath the shade of the hood.

“Hold on, everyone.” Ryse exclaimed, pulling on the ox’s lead. The large furry animal slowed down to a stop, as did the party. “There’s something up ahead.”

Malus stepped forward, slightly ahead of the ox. He squinted, trying to ascertain the object sprawled out across the slightly muddy road. It was a slightly large brown animal, probably a horse of some sort. Clearly dead.

“I’m going to take a closer look.” Ryse set the ox’s lead aside and jumped off from the driver’s seat.

“Hey you, Dragon-kid! Hold on!” Malus called out, though his words fell on deaf ears. The white dragonoid knelt next to the dead horse, trying to find a cause of death of the poor animal.  

A slight rustling in the bushes along the sides of the road jolts Wingston to attention, drawing his mace and shield. “Hey, you two! Watch out!”

Wingston’s warning, however, came too late. Four small, grey skinned creatures jumped out from behind the bushes, flanking the oxen cart from the front and the back. Goblins, a common creature around the areas surrounding the cities of Neverwinter, are especially notorious for ambushing unguarded caravans and lone travellers and would often attack in groups to rob those unlucky enough to be in their crosshairs.

One of the goblins rushed straight towards Ryse, the white Dragonborn still disoriented from the ambush barely able to get to his feet before finding himself face to face with the critter. He reached for the dagger on his belt but before he could draw it the goblin had slashed down across his chest using its chipped, blunt scimitar. The force of the slash and his own imbalance knocked Ryse off his feet, landing face first onto the muddy road.

“Graaahhh!” Wingston roared, charging forward at the goblin that had struck Ryse. Another goblin had shot at him from afar with a makeshift bow, though the arrow had flown off mark hitting the top of the wooden cart. Rushing over to Ryse’s side, Wingston laid a hand on the fallen rogue which glowed white for a second. When the flash of light had faded, Ryse had regained his consciousness and whispered a slight “Thanks” to his saviour.

“Damn it!” Malus, whom ran to cover the back of the cart, cursed out loud as he drew his spear, charging at the two goblins approaching the cart. He jabbed the spear forward with both hands, piercing the side of one of the goblins, injuring it heavily.

The goblin which had first knocked Ryse out of the fight, swung once more at the dragonoid rogue, this time using the weapon’s pommel. The blunt end of the weapon struck hard on the dragon’s snout, 

knocking the wind out of him once again. The bow-wielding goblin nocked another arrow onto its small bow, and tried to fire Wingston and Ryse.This time, however, the string on its bow snapped, putting the weapons out of commission.

Malus kept fighting the two goblins at the back, dodging a few slashes from the goblins’ scimitars, though his own spear seemed to keep on failing to meet its mark. The nimble little creatures circled around the tiefling fighter, as if mocking him. If only I could use my magic here! The tiefling thought, biting his lips as another swing of the goblin's scimitar missed him by mere inches.

“Hey, snap out of it!” Wingston tried to spur the unconscious Ryse while holding off the two goblins that he was forced to face. The bow-wielding goblin too had joined the fray and attacked relentlessly at the young cleric with their curved swords.

“AHHHH!” The human shouted, swinging his mace with all his might. The heavy metal head of the weapon smashed into the side of one of the goblins, whose body instantly went limp and was sent flying into the muddy grounds. Seeing this, however, did little to deter the other goblin, whom uses the moment when the human relaxed to deliver a heavy blow to the back of the chain-mail wearing cleric.

Malus tried again and again, but failed to land a hit on the goblins, whom both were now attacking him from all angles. An arrow hits his shoulder, blurring his vision for a moment as the pain and exhaustion from the long journey sapped his strength. This momentary pause was used by the other goblin to slash him across the abdomen, cutting through the thick leather armour. The blood loss from the freshly opened wound, however, quickly robbed Malus of the last of his control of his body. Unable to steel himself anymore, Malus fell to his knees before landing face-down onto the ground.

Alone against the swarm of tiny critters, the now heavily injured Wingston kept on fighting valiantly. The agile little creatures were clearly much too quick for the cleric’s heavy mace, which in turn kept on taking blows after blows from their scimitars. A solid strike on his sword arm shoulder disarmed him, opening him up to a follow up attack from the goblins, whom delivered a swift kick to his face, blacking him out almost instantly.

To be continued....