Written by Rafe Langston

The halfling leapt over a log, stumbled, and landed on his face in the black, foul-smelling muck that marked the start of the Darkdown Bog. The sticky mud resisted letting him go, feeling like a hundred tiny hands trying to pull him into the ground as he struggled back to his feet, gagging and spitting the nasty stuff that had made its way into his mouth. His torn and battered clothes were weighed down by pounds of the stuff, and it – with more than a small amount of sweat – held his normally thick, bushy sideburns and wild hair flat against his head.

He looked around warily. Towering trees, their bark as a black as the mud that now squished between his toes, and sickly looking plants obscured what little vision he had in the darkness, but he listened. Had he escaped?

“SCREEAAAAWWWWWWGGHHH!” the horrid screech tore through the forest not far behind, and the exhausted halfling sprung back into a sprint, pushed forward by the fresh hit of adrenaline.

★ ★ ★

…Nevias Brewbelly knelt by the newest headstone in the cemetery, the early morning sunshine reflecting off the shiny gray stone. Placing a small yellow flower on top of it, he smiled sadly and traced his fingers over the simple letters that had just been chiseled there.

SARRA BREWBELLY BELOVED MOTHER

“Well, mum.” he said. “Today’s the day. I’m leavin’ for good now. I wish you could come with me like we always talked about, but this was meant to be yer home forever.” Nevias sniffled. “I got a good chunk of gold for the house and all the furnishings, though. It was so hard to let it all go but I know you want me to move on from this place.” He stood, adjusting his brand new traveling clothes and rucksack that held everything he now owned. “So that’s it. I’ll pass along your best to the family down in Tillakamori when I get there. Goodbye, mum. Love ya.”

With one last gentle pat of the headstone, he turned with tears in his eyes and walked through the gates of the crowded graveyard, striking westward on the dirt path, and leaving Willowrest, the only home he had ever known, behind him….

★ ★ ★

“SCRAWWWWGH! SCRAWWWWGH!” It was getting closer, Nevias was certain, but he didn’t dare look behind him as he scrambled over a mound of knotted roots and tumbled down the other side into thorny brambles and more mud. Rolling back to his feet, he pushed forward. His lungs felt like they were full of razorblades, his skin screamed like a thousand beestings, and his muscles were on fire. Every inch of his body begged to stop and recover.

But if he stopped, he died, and nobody would ever know.

THUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUD “SCREEEEEEEEAAAAAAAGH!!!”

Another burst of adrenaline as Nevias found endurance far beyond what he ever dreamed of having.

Then he saw a tiny pinprick of light.

No, just a trick of his desperate mind.

Wait! There it was again! A campfire!

Nevias briefly weighed his options. He had heard the stories and knew something like a campfire in the Darkdown Bog was likely to be some trick of a Shade to lure in its prey, but it could also mean adventurers. A chance of rescue, however slim, beat the absolute certainty of the death that chased him.

He changed his direction and headed straight for the small flickering fire that seemed so impossibly far away.

★ ★ ★

… “Pleasure doin’ business with ya!” the burly man laughed as he tossed Nevias’ rucksack to his companion. The halfling lifted his head out of the dust of the trail, wiping the blood that dripped from his lip and nose.

“‘Ave a safe journey!” the man’s skinny companion taunted as they mounted their horses. “I hear there be brigands about, ya know?”

Bruised and beaten, Nevias watched as they galloped away, laughing, then he rolled onto his back and stared up at the darkening sky. He had just stopped to make camp for his third night on the road when the two men had appeared on their horses. He had offered to make them some dinner and share in some stories, but the second he turned his back, they struck.

And took everything.

Theer, outside of his peaceful little village of Willowrest, was just as dangerous as the worst stories told. Leaving the village, especially alone, was a stupid mistake. What was he thinking?

Pulling himself painfully to his feet, Nevias stumbled over to a small tree, laid down, and sobbed until he fell asleep….

★ ★ ★

There were two shadowy figures sitting by the campfire. They stood as the commotion reached their ears, one of them drawing a sword and shield while the other stepped back.

“HELP!” Nevias squeaked as he tumbled into their campsite, a tearing sound like cloth and something wet, then white hot pain shot up from his back, and everything went dark.

★ ★ ★

…A strange, unnatural sound woke Nevias from his slumber under the tree. It was dark, the full moon providing scant light through the cloudy sky. He cautiously peeked his head above the grasses and, even though the fields were bathed in inky darkness, something even darker prowled a hundred yards away. Its silhouette was visible but, no matter how hard he squinted, Nevias’ eyes refused to focus on the beast’s exact form.

Suddenly, its head snapped up, its dozen beady red eyes bore into Nevias’ soul.

“SCREEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAWGH!!!” it roared and launched itself in his direction.

The halfling turned and bolted straight for the dark band that was the edge of the Black Woods of Noor, and his only hope of losing the creature that pursued him….

★ ★ ★

The warmth of the fire was the first sensation that Nevias felt as he stirred, blinking the bleariness from his eyes. Then he felt the bandages wrapped tight around his otherwise bare torso.

“Ah, you’re awake!” a robed human woman said, quickly stepping next to him to help him sit up. “Welcome back, my friend. You gave us quite the fright.”

“Where am I?” Nevias asked, his voice raspy.

As if on cue, a full waterskin appeared in front of him, held in the gauntleted hand of an elf. “Drink this, little one.” he said.

“The Darkdown Bog.” the woman answered his question as Nevias drank greedily from the waterskin. “Do you not recall?”

The memories of everything that happened after the bandits attacked him flashed through his mind as he handed the water back to the elf. “No, I do… I do… who are you?” He looked back and forth between the human and the elf.

The human was young with a dark complexion and short cropped black hair that flared out like wings under her wide-brimmed hat. “I’m Ezari, apprentice archaeologist from the University of Eleanora. And this is Lif, my friend and bodyguard.”

The elf was tall, clad in green-died studded leather armor, with fair skin and intricately braided blond hair that reached to his waist. “A pleasure.” he said in a soft, friendly voice as he bowed.

Nevias introduced himself, telling them the story of how his grandfather had been from Tillakamori, how he and his mother had dreamed of returning but she had fallen ill before they could, and how he had sold everything, setting out on his own after she died, but only lasting a few days before being robbed and left for dead, then chased by a Shade.

“Wait… what happened to the monster?” he asked.

“This.” Lif answered, grinning and gesturing at the blade and shield on his back.

“It clearly wasn’t expecting us, having been so focused on you, so we dispatched it quickly, though not quickly enough to save you from harm. Thankfully, the Bog has excellent ingredients for healing poultices if you know where to look. It’s only been a few hours and your wound is mostly healed.”

“Thank you.” Nevias said, bowing. “I hate to ask for more but you don’t happen to be heading to Tillakamori?”

“No.” Ezari answered. “We have business in the Bog, but once that’s done, we’ll be returning to Eleanora City, which is on the way to Tillakamori. You’re welcome to travel with us, but it will be dangerous.”

Nevias gulped as he looked around at the pitch black woods. Something screeched in the distance. “Less dangerous than traveling alone, I think. I doubt I’d last another day alone, especially without any of my gear. I’m happy to help as much as I can, I owe you that, at least.”

“You will need this.” Lif said, handing the halfling a gleaming shortsword that he seemed to have produced from thin air.

“Welcome to the crew, Nevias.” Ezari said, reaching out and shaking his hand.

Suddenly, Nevias felt like he may have escaped the cauldron only to be caught in the fire.

This tale was based on the awesome Dark Age of Theer TTRPG setting created by Todd Stashwick and David Nett.

The character art was created using HeroForge and public domain imagery. The resulting composite image was created with GIMP.

No GenAI was used in the creation of this story, and no part of this story may be used to train or enhance machine learning models of any kind.

Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike license. For more info, visit: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/

Lîf Faewood leapt over one of these fires, his left hand holding his dark green cap in place while is right gripped his longbow as he landed and rolled.

“Seriously!?” he shouted back over his shoulder as he rose and continued running. “This is a bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?”

A half dozen crossbow-wielding guardsmen burst through the underbrush, three of them stopping to loose their bolts in Lîf’s direction. Two went wide, but the third clanged off the shield that the fleeing elf wore on his back, the sound echoing through the trees.

Lîf ducked under a low branch, then clambered onto a narrow dirt road weaving through the trees. He could see several other guards on horseback charging along the road to his right, so he darted to the left and onto a stone bridge that spanned a deep gorge.

The mounted guards caught up to the panting elf just as he reached the mid-point of the bridge and climbed onto the edge of the impressive stone structure.

“Stop!” a commanding voice boomed, and all of the guards halted, their crossbows drawn and aimed squarely at Lîf, who quickly reached into the pouch at his side and withdrew a fist-sized blue gem then held it in his outstretch arm, over the hundred-foot drop to the raging river below.

“You wouldn’t dare.” The voice said, emanating from a human man as he approached upon his horse. He was elderly and rotund, with thin hair and pale skin. His exquisite robes dangled on either side of his white steed, and the considerable amount of opulent jewelry he wore had to be worth more than most towns – residents included.

“Oh, yeah?” Lîf replied. “What makes you so sure?”

It was a this time that the guards on foot finally caught up, raising their own crossbows.

“You worked so hard to get it,” the old man said, “and if you drop it, you’ll be dead before it’s halfway to the river.”

Lîf looked at the assorted faces in front of him, then chuckled at the old man. “You’re right, my Lord.” The honorific dripping with disdain. “It was a lot of work.” He then kissed the gem and dropped it back into the pouch as he leapt off the bridge. The collected guards gasped and rushed to the edge, peering over the low wall at the rapidly shrinking figure of the elf below.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light and the elf was gone. No splash or other sign of the thief, just empty air.

The nobleman scowled and shouted angrily, “Find him!”

“Yes, Lord Kath!” they shouted in unison and moments later he was alone on the bridge, seething as the guards began scouring the nearby forest.

This was a challenge I made to myself, on a whim, to write a short story in a single 30-minute lunch break at work – no plan; just my laptop and one of my D&D characters dropped into a situation, discovering the story as I typed. I’ve since done some minor edits and created the image for this post but don’t plan to clean it up any further. Will it continue? Maybe! Anyway, it was super fun to write and I hope you found it enjoyable.

Image created with HeroForge.