Hey Guys, it’s Stephen. I’m working on the story of how my character (Glod Hammerpants the warlord) and my brother Jim’s character (Pippers the warlock) first met, and how they ended up meeting the rest of the party. The story is three pages long so far, and I haven’t actually introduced Glod Hammerpants yet, but he’s coming! Here it is so far:
“Never trust a fairy. That’s all I have to say…” The halfling finally said. He had been sitting in moody silence for twenty minutes and six beers, but it seems that alcohol had loosened his tongue.
“Of course not.” Klog replied, “everyone knows that you can’t trust fairies.” The half-Orc wasn’t particularly interested in what the halfling had to say; when you serve drinks to gods and monsters in the hub of the multiverse, you quickly become jaded to tales of woe. Still, it couldn’t hurt to keep the poor man talking. Chatty patrons tended to drink more if they thought someone was listening.
The halfling looked up at Klog with bleary bloodshot eyes; even after everything Klog had seen he was still surprised at how much alcohol the tiny man could drink. “No no no,” the halfling slurred, “everyone get’s told that they can’t trust fairies, but… but they don’t really know, right? Not me, though. I know. I really know. And lemme tell you-” his rant was cut short by a loud belch. “Do you know,” he began again, “do you know why you can’t trust those sparkly bastards?”
“It’s because they’re all liars.” Klog said, wordlessly refilling the halfling’s mug.
“Ha!” The little guy chuckled bitterly, “is that what you think? You don’t have no idea at all! Lemme tell you a story…”
Pippers placed the last bottle at the base of the altar. It wasn’t much of an altar, just an old crate decorated with as many old bottles, wilted flowers, shards of glass, and scraps of cloth that the young halfling could steal or salvage. If someone had walked into Pippers’ tenement, they probably would have wondered why he had gone to such trouble to pile his garbage in the middle of the room. But the altar was shiny and colorful, and according to the ratty moldering copy of Et Pertingens Velum Vili –the book Pippers had spent his last eight coppers on- bright lights, colors, and flowers were what really mattered to draw the attention of a fairy.
Pippers hadn’t originally set out to summon a fairy; he had first bought the book hoping to make a pact with a demon. But demons are so hard to summon; where could a poor halfling get a goat in a city like Thestleport? And making a pact with the eldritch gods was even less likely; Pippers could barely convince his landlady to not evict him, he probably couldn’t talk anyone into sacrificing themselves to a sleeping squid-god. And even most rituals to summon fairies required wood from still-living trees; Pippers had been forced to flee Thistleport eight years ago after he was caught stealing from the mayor, hiding out in an old barn had been the first and last time he had seen any kind of tree, living or otherwise. But the last spell in the book looked easy enough for Pippers, and it wasn’t like he had anything left to lose.
“Mirabar quid esset amicus,” the halfling began, kneeling in front of the altar. “Donec venenatis et mecum omnia communia.”
“Magnus valebat!” The altar seemed to softly glow, the colors becoming more vivid against the dreary backdrop of the tenement room. “Sortes de ludum!”
“Pulchra corde, fortis et fidelis,” The altar shone like a pile of gems beneath the noonday sun, the rags and bottles shining with the iridescent colors of a rainbow. Above the dazzling display a vague shape was beginning to take form. “Participando bonitatem!”
“Suus ’an securus perpetratae rei,” The phantasmal outline of a woman appeared above the rainbow altar. The smell of sugar and fresh honey filled the air. “ET MAGICAE ARTIS FACIT PERFECTA EST!”
The fairy appeared in a burst of laughter. Pippers could only stare in wonder and awe at the magnificent and giant creature. Her shapely legs went straight through the altar and her kaleidoscopic wings spread through the walls of the room, but she seemed more real then any of it, as if the filthy little apartment was an illusion and she was the only real thing in the world.
“Greetings, young Pippers,” she began, her voice like a choir of angels, “I am Sparklædy, fairy queen of wild dreams. Why have you summoned me?”
Pippers stammered stupidly for a minute before finding his voice. “I, um… I…” He had planned to be forceful to the fairy, to demand power; but now he couldn’t even muster the nerve to stand up, “I just… I just want to be strong!” he suddenly blurted out as the emotions he had repressed for years came flooding back. “My whole life I’ve been small and weak and everyone always picks on me and pushes me around and, and… and I just want to be able to fight back! I want to be the one who pushes people around, I want to be the one in charge! I just don’t want to be a pathetic little wimp anymore!”
Sparklædy watched this breakdown silently, her shimmering face showing a tinge of almost motherly affection. At last, she spoke, “Your words move me, young Pippers. I would grant you your dreams of power, but such a gift cannot be given for free. Those who receive their wildest dreams must in turn help realize the dreams of others. Would you use your power to serve me, young Pippers? Would you swear your soul to my service, and become my champion on this world and those beyond?”
“I do!” Pippers whispered hoarsely, “I swear, I’ll do anything you want. Anything.”
“Then rise, my champion,” Sparklædy intoned, “Rise and receive your power.” She placed one iridescent hand on Pippers forehead. The halfling could feel the power flowing through him like fine wine. His eyes took on a shimmering rainbow glow as he fully absorbed his new powers “With this gift I bind you to my service. From now until the end of days you shall be mine, in body and in soul. But before you can truly take your place as my champion, three tasks you must achieve.
Three dreams I see and three dreams you must help realize. In the ancient windswept castle an old warrior dreams of glory. On a holy pilgrimage a man born of dragons but bound to a raven dreams of slaying his one-eyed foe. And in the land where all lands are joined, a man of iron that does not sleep dreams of ascension to the immortal realms. These three dreams must be realized, and then ultimate power shall be yours.
Go now, my servant. Go north, to the ancient castle of Khulzmft, and begin your quest.” Sparklædy disappeared in a flash of color and sound so dazzling that it left Pippers utterly stupefied.
Eventually the halfling returned to his senses. He pulled himself to his feet while trying to get his bearings. It hadn’t been a dream, Pippers could feel the arcane power within him, but it was just a tiny taste compared to the full power Sparklædy had shown him. He supposed he would have to complete the three tasks before getting the rest of his power. The first two seemed easy enough, some old warrior wanted glory; in Pippers limited experience the word “glory” meant dying in some heroic battle, and that wouldn’t be too hard to arrange. The second task seemed straightforward as well, how hard could it be to hunt down some one-eyed guy? The third task seemed harder; “in the land where all lands are joined, a man of iron that does not sleep dreams of ascension to the immortal realms”. Pippers had no idea what any of that meant. But he knew where to start: Sparklædy said north, to a castle called Khulzmft.
That’s all I have so far. Comments and ideas are always welcome.