Category: Lances Rock

NPC: Ruby Hammerwhacker

February 29th, 2024

Ruby Hammerwhacker, with her ever-present grin and infectious laughter, is a beacon of joy in the often dimly lit and perilous realms of Dungeons and Dragons. Standing stout and proud, this dwarven lass hails from the heart of the Iron Hills, where the clang of hammer on anvil sings a constant chorus. Ruby’s lineage is steeped in the art of blacksmithing, with generations of Hammerwhackers having forged everything from simple horseshoes to legendary weapons imbued with ancient magic.

But Ruby is not your typical dwarf. While she possesses all the skill and craftsmanship expected of her storied family, it’s her boundless optimism and joy that truly sets her apart. Her workshop is a place of warmth and laughter, with the glow of the forge reflecting the light in her eyes. Ruby believes that every strike of her hammer is a note in the symphony of creation, a belief that imbues her work with exceptional quality and spirit.

Her reputation as a master blacksmith is matched only by her renown for throwing the most splendid feasts in the Iron Hills. Ruby’s table is always open, her ale kegs never dry, and her halls echo with stories, songs, and the hearty mirth of her kin and travelers alike. It’s said that to share a meal at Ruby’s forge is to forge an unbreakable bond of friendship.

In her adventures beyond the forge, Ruby carries a hammer that is both a tool and a weapon, a symbol of her craft and her protection. She adventures not for gold or glory but for the joy of discovery and the forging of new relationships. Her courage in the face of darkness, her unyielding spirit against despair, and her laughter amidst danger inspire all who journey with her.

Ruby Hammerwhacker’s tale is one of light in the darkness, joy in the face of adversity, and the enduring strength of camaraderie. In a world brimming with peril and mystery, Ruby reminds us that happiness can be a fortress as strong as any stone, and that sometimes, the most powerful magic of all is a joyful heart.
Leaving the Necromancer’s cave.

February 29th, 2024

As Bara’s Marauders exited the necromancer’s cursed domain, their hearts weighed heavy with the eerie silence that followed their victory. The dimly lit corridor ahead promised an end to the labyrinth of shadows, leading them towards a faint glimmer of hope—or so they thought. The narrow passage unveiled its secret: two iron chests guarded by the solemnity of the stone. A lever, crude in its make, beckoned from the wall. Bara Dume, ever the impulsive soul, reached forth and pulled it without a second thought. A thunderous roar echoed as rocks cascaded down, a deadly avalanche aimed at their spoils. With reflexes honed in countless battles, Bara leaped aside, narrowly evading the crush. Yet, the chests lay buried beneath the rubble.

Undeterred, Bara summoned the arcane energies for an Eldritch Blast, channeling his frustration into the spell. The rocks shattered, clearing the path to their prize, only to reveal an anticlimactic sight: the chests were empty, their contents a mystery forever untold.

Retreating from the corridor, a grotesque melody led them to a chamber where the macabre danced before their eyes—two zombies, lost in an eternal waltz. Lucan, quick to action, launched a rock from his sling, a warning shot that glanced off the undead. Yet, the dance came to an abrupt halt, the zombies turning their ghastly gaze upon the intruders. Bara and Kiertan, in a display of precision and might, struck true, halting the undead’s advance in a final, grim performance.

Their victory was short-lived, as the clatter of bones heralded a new threat. Twelve skeletons, animated by unseen forces, began to arm themselves with the detritus of war. The Marauders, facing overwhelming odds, chose valor’s better part—retreat.

Emerging from the cave, they were greeted not by the warmth of victory, but by the cold kiss of rain. Two days and nights had passed in the blink of an eye, and the world seemed unmoved by their trials within the necromancer’s lair.

As they set their sights on Red Larch, the road ahead promised new encounters. Gulanda Luna, a fighter with the soul of a minstrel, and Ruby Hammerwhacker, a dwarf whose laughter was a beacon in the night, crossed paths with the weary adventurers. Ruby, charmed by the tales of their endeavor, traded gold for gemstones, while Gulanda, sensing kindred spirits, joined their journey, seeking adventure and camaraderie. Ruby, with a wave and a smile, ventured off into her own story, leaving the Marauders to the road ahead.

Thus, with new companions at their side and the mysteries of the necromancer’s lair behind them, Bara’s Marauders continued their journey, their spirits undampened by the rain, their resolve as firm as ever. The road to Red Larch awaited, and with it, the promise of new adventures, for in the world of Dungeons and Dragons, every ending is but a prelude to the next great tale.
NPC: Thora Nobleborn

February 23rd, 2024

In the ancient, whispering woods of the Eldergrove, where the trees tell tales of millennia, there lived a forest dwarf named Thora Nobleborn, a druid of the old ways. Born under the emerald canopy, Thora’s heart was as steadfast as the ancient oaks, and her spirit as wild as the untamed winds. Married to Anrin Battleborn, a warrior of renown among their people, Thora’s life was a harmonious blend of love, adventure, and deep communion with nature.

At 200 years old, Thora was considered young by the standards of her long-lived race, yet her wisdom and understanding of the natural world surpassed many of her elders. Her life was a testament to the druidic path, dedicated to preserving the balance of the natural order and protecting the sacred groves from those who would seek to harm them.

As a 5th level druid, Thora possessed a profound connection to the wilds, a bond that allowed her to channel the very essence of nature itself. Her abilities in shapeshifting were unparalleled among her kin, enabling her to transform into various forms, each serving a purpose guided by her heart’s intent.

Among her favored forms were those of friendly dogs, creatures that embodied the loyalty, joy, and companionship Thora valued deeply. These forms allowed her to interact with the woodland creatures and the inhabitants of nearby villages in a manner that brought comfort and happiness, reinforcing the bonds between the natural world and those who dwelled within it.

However, when the tranquility of her forest home was threatened, Thora’s demeanor would shift like the phases of the moon. In times of danger or when the need to protect her domain arose, she would call upon the form of a dire wolf, a formidable and majestic embodiment of the forest’s wrath. In this guise, she was a fierce protector, her howls echoing through the night as a warning to any who dared threaten the sanctity of her realm.

Thora’s life was a dance with the elements, a song of earth and leaf, wind and wolf. Her marriage to Anrin was a partnership of strength and wisdom, the warrior and the druid, united in their love for each other and their dedication to the land they called home. Together, they stood as guardians of the Eldergrove, a testament to the enduring power of nature and the unbreakable bonds forged in the heart of the forest.

Through her journey, Thora Battleborn remained a beacon of the druidic principles, a reminder of the deep, mystic connection that exists between all living things. Her legacy was one of harmony and resilience, a call to all who walk the druid’s path to remember their roots and stand as stewards of the natural world.
Defeat of the Necromancer

February 23rd, 2024

In the shadowed heart of the Eldergrove, where ancient secrets lay buried beneath roots and stone, a cave loomed like a gaping maw, ready to swallow any who dared enter its depths. Kiertan and Bara Dume, seasoned adventurers though they were, felt an unmistakable chill at the prospect of venturing into the darkness. It was Anrin, the stout-hearted dwarf cleric, who broke the spell of hesitation, pushing past his comrades with a determination that belied his size. “Hey, all of you there!” he bellowed into the abyss, his voice echoing off the cold, damp walls, a challenge to the unseen.

The cave, undeterred by the presence of the living, answered in kind. As they moved deeper, navigating the treacherous underfoot, two zombies, decayed and grotesque, fell from a ledge in the next room, their sudden appearance a stark reminder of the cave’s malevolence. Unfazed, the party pressed on, their torches casting long shadows as they stumbled upon a large workshop nestled within the cave’s bowels. There, a more sinister welcome awaited: a zombie and four animated skeletons, the remnants of some dark ritual, turned towards the intruders with malicious intent.

The zombie, with its back to the adventurers, turned and lunged at Anrin in a display of undead fury. But the dwarf cleric, armed with his great battle hammer, met the creature’s charge with a swift and crushing blow. The zombie’s head shattered under the force, its remnants splattering Kiertan and Bara Dume with blood and gore, a grim baptism into the cave’s horrors.

Amidst the chaos, Lucan Sagespirit, a first-level druid, was outraged by the desecration of life before him. Engaging the skeletal foes with a blend of courage and recklessness, he found himself teetering on the edge of death. Kiertan and Bara, quick to his aid, dispatched the skeleton threatening Lucan, pulling him back from the brink with their timely intervention.

It was then that Oreioth, the necromancer responsible for this unholy assembly, descended from the shadows, his hands weaving the dark threads of a spell. Anrin charged, his faith a blazing shield against the darkness, but it was a great dire wolf that turned the tide. With a ferocious leap, the beast sank its teeth into Oreioth’s side, a blow that spelled the beginning of the end for the dark mage. The adventurers, seizing the moment, landed their blows, each strike a testament to their resolve.

With his final breath, Oreioth uttered a cryptic challenge, “Can you see it?” And there, glowing ominously on the wall, was a strange symbol, its meaning lost to the adventurers. As Oreioth’s body dissolved into black flame and flickered out, he dropped a wand of magic missiles, which Bara Dume swiftly claimed.

In the aftermath, as the dust settled and the echoes of battle faded, the dire wolf transformed before their eyes, revealing Thora Battleborn, Anrin’s wife, a forest dwarf druid who had been the wolf that tipped the scales in their favor. Anrin, with a mixture of pride and affection, introduced her, “Gentlemen, meet my wife, Thora Battleborn.”

Thus, in the depths of a cave that had known only darkness and death, a tale of bravery, sacrifice, and the unbreakable bonds of companionship unfolded, a story that, for the time being, found its conclusion in the warmth of newfound respect and the glow of a mysterious symbol that hinted at adventures yet to come.

Category: Lances Rock

NPC: Ruby Hammerwhacker

Leaving the Necromancer’s cave.

NPC: Thora Nobleborn

Defeat of the Necromancer