~ ~ ~ Written by Rafe Langston ~ ~ ~ “Gods, it really is you!” Addasha Risea said, as she looked at the haggard man standing before her. “We all thought you were dead, Oryn! Why didn’t you come home?!” They stood in a small clearing far deeper in the Bramblemire Jungle than the halflings of Coral Haven were permitted to travel, but Addasha had never let rules limit her curiosity before and, as usual, it paid off. As for her long-lost brother, he had been bent over a stream trying to catch a frog when she found him. “I… got lost.” he finally said, pausing oddly as if struggling to remember the words. “Fell… hit my… head… couldn’t… find the way back… tried… wanted… to be home…” Tears welled up in his eyes. “Missed you.” Addasha hugged him. He felt frail, like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. She dug into her pack and pulled out some salted meat that she had been saving. Oryn took it and ripped off a bite. “Drueda…” he said with his mouth full. “What?” Addasha didn’t recognize the word. Oryn shook his head. “Sorry… difficult… to speak… since…” and he mimicked a hit to his head. “That’s okay.” Addasha said as she put her hand on his thin bicep. “Let’s get you home.” Oryn chewed at the salted meat, his eyes full of uncertainty. “No… first… need to go… back… drueda! The word… name…” Addasha looked at him, worried. He patted her pack and pointed at himself. “A pack? You have things you want to get before we go?” “No… show… drueda!” The last word was like a curse of frustration. “What’s that mean?” “Na… nothing… come… then we go…” ~ ~ ~ Twenty minutes later, the pair stood in front of a rickety hut built between several large trees. It reminded Addasha of the stories they told little kids back in the village about the Bramblemire Hag who lived in the jungle and ate children who wandered too far. She lived in a scary hut with a conical roof and strange, twisted, gnarled edges – just like this one. “Did you build this?” Addasha asked. “No.” Oryn answered as he opened the door and gestured for her to enter. “Found.” Addasha stepped into the hut, which was lit by a single candle. Strange trinkets lined the shelves, and the hundreds of furs that covered the floor and furniture gave it a thick, musty smell. Sitting in the singular chair next to the table that held the candle was an old woman. She sipped from a steaming mug then turned her head to look at Addasha. Her mouth curled into a malicious smile under her long, crooked nose, and her eyes flashed. “Welcome home, Addasha.” she and Oryn said in unison. Then something heavy hit Addasha on the back of the head. She spun and landed on her back, seeing her brother holding an iron pan and looking down at her with tears streaming down his face, then the blackness took her. ~ ~ ~ “Rise and shine, pretty girl!” The old crone’s voice felt like claws tearing into Addasha’s throbbing skull. She was tied to the chair in the hut, which now glowed with an orange light that seemed to come from everywhere at once. Oryn stood in the corner, his head bowed but his shoulders shaking as he quietly sobbed. “What do you want?” Addasha asked, trying to blink away the pain in her head. “You, deary!” she said, cheerily, as she grabbed Addasha’s face in her cold, bony hands. She turned Addasha’s head as if she were inspecting a piece of meat. “Poor Oryn here has been so lonely. I can’t have my pets sulking around all day. That’s just cruel!” Suddenly, a realization dawned. “Let him go.” Addasha demanded. “And what would be in that for little old me?” the hag asked. “I won’t tell anyone your name.” The woman laughed, her voice tinged with nervousness. “My name?” “Yeah, every kid knows of the Bramblemire Hag, and that the only way to control her is with her name. Release him now, Drueda.” The woman’s eyes grew wide, violent, but she stood as if she were glued to the floor, and screamed in rage. “Good to know the stories are true. Now, Drueda,” Addasha said her name with more force, and the crone sneered at her. Addasha continued, “You will untie me and leave this place forever. Go find yourself a miserable spit of land somewhere in the ocean, far from people, and never leave it again. And be happy I’m merciful, hag.” Drueda seethed as she struggled to resist the commands, but stepped forward and began untying the knots…. ~ ~ ~ The party celebrating Oryn’s return lasted until dawn. There was song and dance, a feast, and wine that flowed endlessly. It was the happiest time that Addasha could remember. Later, while they stood in the cemetery looking down at the smashed bits that had been Oryn’s headstone, across the ocean an old woman sat in a hut on a tiny island, humming cheerily to herself as she finished sewing a tiny halfling doll, sealing a lock of hair inside…. ~ ~ ~ CREDIT ~ ~ ~ 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/

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/

An elf has stolen a magical artifact from under the nose of a powerful lord, but can he escape?

~ ~ ~

A burning sphere plowed through the canopy of the forest, smashing into the ground and exploding into a million burning embers. Small fires burst into existence where the flaming shrapnel landed.

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

“Seriously!?” he shouted back over his shoulder as he jumped to his feet 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 the object he’d stolen and held it in his outstretched arm, over the hundred-foot drop to the raging river below.

The object was almost flat with the slightest of curvature to it, iridescent white, with jagged edges that had been worn smooth with time, hinting that it was once part of something larger.

“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 a large town – residents included.

“What makes you so sure?” Lîf shot back.

The guards on foot finally caught up, panting and aiming 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. Seems like a waste to me.”

Lîf looked at the assorted faces in front of him, then bowed to the man. “You’re right, my Lord. It was a lot of work.” In one smooth movement, he dropped the fragment back into the pouch and cinched it closed as he dove backwards off the bridge. The collected guards gasped, and a few crossbow bolts shot through the air where he had been standing.

Rushing to the edge, the guards peered over the low wall at the rapidly shrinking figure of the elf below, then there was a flash of light and he was gone. No splash or other sign of him – just empty air.

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

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

~ ~ ~

Bright light, weightlessness, and then suddenly Lîf found himself surrounded by trees, flung upwards, arcing as his momentum slowed, then falling back toward the ground. He tumbled, stopping prone at the feet of a robed figure, around whom the ghostly patterns of a spell were still fading away. She had olive skin with wild, shoulder-length black hair, and wore robes that seemed to shift in color to match her surroundings.

“Way to cut it close, Ez.” he said as he climbed to his feet and dusted off his green-dyed studded leather armor.

“Sorry, Lîf.” The robed figure said from under wide brim of her battered, tan leather hat. “But Aperad’s Portal is not the fastest spell to cast, and I wasn’t expecting you to jump off the Thrumm-cursed bridge!” She smacked him on the shoulder.

Lîf shrugged and finished dusting himself off as the shouts of the guards started to get closer.

“Do you have it?” she asked urgently.

“Ezari Vale, are you doubting my skills?” Lîf said, feigning offense as he opened the pouch on his hip so she could see the iridescent fragment.

“Good. And yes, after that idiot move you pulled back there, I am. Let’s get out of here.”

Ezari pulled a scroll from her satchel and held it in front of her with her left hand, then began reciting its incantation and moving her right hand as though she was holding a needle and thread, sewing the paper into the air itself. She continued to speak in the strange tongue, her eyes glowing, and the air around them accelerating into a vortex. She let go of the page just as a handful of guards burst into their little hideout between the trees, and the page stayed in place.

“A sorcerer!” One of the guards shouted in alarm.

“Shoot it!” Ordered another.

A crossbow bolt sailed through the air, but was blown wide by the howling wind.

“She’s a wizard, you plebeian!” Lîf taunted.

Ezari spoke one last bit of the strange, arcane language of the wizards and flung the paper forward with a flick of her wrists and it instantly turned to ash, spiraling into the vortex – and the ground disappeared.

~ ~ ~

An instant later, Ezari and Lîf were a hundred miles away, back in their hometown of Eleanora, and standing on the familiar manicured lawn of the Arcane College. Birds chirped under the clear blue sky while students looked at the pair who had just appeared, whispering to each other.

Lîf waved awkwardly.

“Ah, welcome back, young Ezari!” An elderly man wearing flowing robes and a pointed hat shuffled away from the tallest of the several towers that surrounded them, supporting himself with a staff that looked to be made with wrought iron. He had a long, gray beard that hung to his waist and bushy eyebrows hanging over a deeply-wrinkled face and eyes that seemed to emanate humor and kindness. “I trust you have returned with the fragment?”

“Yes, Headmaster.” Ezari said as Lîf dropped the pouch into her outstretched hand. She pulled out the object and handed it over to the man.

“Beautiful!” He said, turning it over. Light flashed from his eyes, so quickly that Lîf wasn’t sure if he’d actually seen it. “This dragon egg fragment will help us considerably in our studies of the Weave.” With a quick hand movement, the egg fragment vanished with a nearly imperceptible pop. “Now, come with me. We have discovered the location of another that must be retrieved…”

Lîf and Ezari fell into step behind the elder wizard. Lîf leaned over and whispered, “That’s a piece of dragon egg?!”

“Sorry, the headmaster swore me to secrecy.” Ezari whispered back. “But it looks like you’ve earned his trust, and I still promise you that it’s for a good cause.”

“I hope so.” Lîf said. “I’m not keen on getting torched by a dragon. I got plans, y’know?”

“Of course, and you don’t need to do this with me. I would never be upset with you if you chose to go back to your life.”

“Not a chance.” Lîf said as they stepped through the doorway and into the torchlit interior of the tower.

~ ~ ~ CREDITS AND LEGAL STUFF ~ ~ ~

This tale is based in 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 using GIMP.

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

No generative AI 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.

This was rewritten to fit within my existing series based in the world of Theer. Click here if you want to see a PDF of the original version.