Where Lies Adventure!

OF GODS AND MEN Chapter 42: ...darkness and silence            There was a slight rumble beneath Adulatio’s feet, and in the distance, the old god heard a slight booming: the thunderclap that summons forth the lightning storm.   The colors of the sky, the sea, the wood, and the shore of the island suddenly grew sharper…warmer.   A shimmer took shape, surrounding every rock and tree.   In an instant, Adulatio’s sanctuary had become more beautiful and vibrant than he could have ever imagined it.   Resentment began to well inside of the old god.   This strange visitor was changing what was not his to change.   Perhaps he thought if he could impress Adulatio with this journeyman level control over the power that the elder god would agree to take him on as an apprentice.   Well-intentioned, perhaps, but a poorly executed idea.   And Adulatio had every intention of telling him so. The shimmer grew more dazzling, and the heat intensified.   Facing the sea,

OF GODS AND MEN Chapter 41: Pleasing to the Eye Adulatio sat in his golden throne, looking out in all directions at the isle that extended out from beneath the high hill on which his holy seat rested.   Supple palm and fir trees shone green in the golden sunlight.   As his eyes passed over them, they came to clear, grass-laden fields where lambs, dragons, and everything in between, sat beside each other on perfect harmony.   And further still; the white sands of the coast that gave way to the most opulent blue waters the world of men would never see. “For it is mine,” Adulatio said, in answer to his own thought.   “It is all mine.” The old god closed his eyes, reveling in this land: his land.   The power emanated from him, and the island responded.   The trees bent low, as if in bow, toward the seat on the high hill.   The animals in the fields sent up their voices in what should have been a cacophony, but was instead a beautiful harmony of unifi

LEAVETAKING The Conclusion of a D&D Character's Backstory               The moon hung high as Wigbrand descended from his family den at the top of the dragon’s mount.   He climbed and hiked his way down to the base of the mountain road.   If there was any meat to be found, it would be at there.               It was a desolate scene.   Fifty feet from the road’s end – or beginning, for the few brave souls who had dared climb the mountain – sparse fir trees sat hodgepodge on grassless earth, growing fuller and more numerous the further from the base of the road they dwelt; as if the forest itself feared to get too close to the path that led to the dragons’ den.             Wigbrand moved as stealthily as a seven-foot tall, three hundred pound dragonborn could; which is to say, not stealthily at all.   His leather jerkin scraped loudly against his scales, and each soft step he tried only elongated the sounds of gravel crunching underfoot.