Lauren Christ
Stories from the Axe and Thistle is a bi-monthly serialization that details the exploits of a D&D 5e campaign as they troll their way through an open-world wilderness. Often outlandish and good for a laugh, these vignettes are told by the Dungeon Master of said campaign, because sometimes humor is the only way to cope with tragedy!
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“There was also the issue with the townspeople that went missing.”
You startle a bit as the bartender speaks. A few peaceful moments have passed since her last story. You have been nursing your drink while she has been polishing bar glasses and serving other patrons. She doesn’t seem to be addressing you. Though she is speaking to you, her eyes are far away.
“Yeah, it was years ago. A lot of people went missing all at once, and no one knew why. Julian the mayor, Shauna the magician, Stefan, Amelia… almost everyone important, really.” She frowns appraisingly into the bottom of the mug, peering at a persistent smudge. “I’m not really in the business of giving quests since I don’t relish the idea of my advice being what gets adventurers maimed or worse. But I was worried about the missing townspeople, so I dropped hints here and there, mentioning which directions people went and what they might’ve been going to do.
The first one found was Shauna, who goes off quite frequently when she’s practicing her magic, experimenting with a new spell, or other things like that. She tends to end up by the river to the west of here because, well, she has a nasty habit of lighting herself on fire. And most of her surroundings. I think it was after the first time she burned down her house that she started disappearing, but she always came back after a day or two. She’d been gone for a week before I mentioned to a group of adventurers that they might benefit from checking out the river.
They found her without much searching, trapped inside a shell of pure magical energy. She’d been trying to replicate the magic of Varna’s bubble, evidently, but forgot to put in the doors. I’m told it went completely wild, flinging off shots of energy, beams of fire and lightning and ice, and it couldn’t be broken from within no matter what Shauna threw at it.
So, the adventurers took their shots from behind tree and rocks, trying to shield themselves from the bubble’s retaliation. You remember the bubblegum witch I mentioned before?”
You feel startled from a moment, your immersion with the story broken. “Uh, I think so. She was the one who was obsessed with pottery, right?”
The bartender nods. “Right, her. She’s there, and she’s throwing off these weird bolts of magic energy. She calls herself a witch, but the spells she’s casting are all bright pink and stink like rot. She’s shown me a little bit of it, and it’s really unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I’d call it necromancy, but it’s just so violently pink. Anyway, so she’s there along with the assassin I told you about before, and the two of them are just going to town on this thing.”
“The assassin who came here to kill Varn?”
“The very same.” The bartender beams, visibly pleased that you remembered. “And he was unloading arrows into this bubble left and right along with the witch and, of all people, a poet and some seventeen year old kid. Honestly, it sounds more like the set-up to an offensive joke, but the witch, the assassin, the punk, and the poet eventually manage to burst the bubble and free Shauna. She’s thrilled, but not as thrilled as I was to have them come stomping back in here, singed and smelling like sulfur, carrying on about that bubble like it was some kind of dragon that almost killed them all.”
You smile as the bartender says this. Then, you slowly start to shake your head and chuckle.
She raises an eyebrow at you. “What’s so funny?”
“You keep saying things like that, like you think the adventurers are a pain to have around, but you wouldn’t let them stay here for free if that were true,” you reason, “You like them, and you’re clearly proud of them. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be telling me all these stories.”
The bartender smiles ruefully, and for a few beats, she does not speak. “Yeah, you’re right,” she eventually agrees, “They’re ridiculous and loud, and they’re always bringing dirt and dead things into my bar.” She tucks her polishing rag into a pocket on her waist apron, smoothing the fabric with her hands as she leans one hip against the bar. “But they’re funny and clever, too, and usually willing to lend a helping hand without needing much of a reason. They make things interesting in an otherwise small, quiet town. And, if I’m being completely honest, they remind me of myself, of a person I was a long time ago.”
You soak up this information quietly for a moment, and then you are startled as she suddenly thrusts her hand out to you. You look questioningly into her sparkling eyes, at her smirking mouth, and the hand she is offering to you in greeting, as if you hadn’t already been listening to her speak for hours. “I’m Luddy,” she announces proudly, “And welcome to Varna.”
To be continued…
Stay tuned as we upload a new chapter of the campaign every other week right here on DorkDaily.com!
