SKT 3000

Uninvited Guests
Valandrien Befriends the King of the Fey

Uninvited Guests


Temperance Foundling. A loud half-orc paladin.

Sterrin Blackhand. A human rogue and far traveler.

Valandrien Dezlentyr. A half-elven sorcerer from Waterdeep.


Stuck in the dungheap/town of Parnast, the adventurers found ways to entertain themselves:

  • Sterrin drummed in the square.
  • Valandrien <s>made out with</s> spoke with Chandra, the priestess. She gave him some freshly baked bread.

That evening, they gathered in the only tavern, hight the Golden Tankard, along with Azam and nearly everyone in town. The crowding was unusual. Apparently the tavern’s owner, Ragnar Bentpenus, had asked people to attend so he could explain his brilliant plan for avoiding starvation: hire adventurers to hunt the “never been hunted for no particular reason” Weathercote Wood.

Gundalin Cartwright volunteered his inept, underage, ill-equipped son to accompany said adventurers.

Besides Sterrin and Valandrien, a loud half-orc allegedly named “Temperance” agreed to go on the “Quest for Food.” Everyone agreed it was the bestest quest ever! Ragnar announced that if the adventurers were successful, he would hold a big feast and waste as much food as possible in one single night.

To celebrate, everyone ate mangy squirrel and licked delicious salty rocks for dinner, courtesy of Ragnar. He really went all out.

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Birds sang sweet songs. The scent of fresh bread was on the air. Gundalin’s son Wallace found the adventurers and showed off his fine bow which he had used once before.

The adventurers went to the herbalist’s shop and were kind and generous to the old man who ran it. His wife had been the herbalist, but she died. He desperately needed money to retire, so he gladly and without any coercion whatsoever sold the heroes some potions for slightly less than their normal prices. They really didn’t need all of them, but they were feeling magnanimous and bought extra to help the old man live out his last three or four days in relative luxury. Valandrien felt really good for doing such a good deed. Ahhhh.

Chandra sought out Valandrien to make sure she gave him a <s>big fat kiss</s> blessing before he left. Sigh. It was going to be difficult for Val to let her down, but he was made for bigger things. He knew that his destiny lay beyond this small town (cue impressive music).

The four heroes walked mostly north for half a day until they came to the boundary of the Weathercote Wood. They crossed into the trees and immediately had a difficult time breathing. Soon they saw a delicious-looking stag, just standing there waiting to be killed. Sterrin readied an arrow.

“What are you doing?” A pesky, high voice squeaked. “You can’t do that here!”

The deer fled. The owner of the voice revealed itself: a tiny humanoid with dragonfly wings, a.k.a. a pixie. It shrieked its name, Prince Thornacius, and demanded that the adventurers perform unnatural acts—namely, not hunting or killing anything in the woods.

So they journeyed back to Parnast empty-handed and everyone in the town starved.

But wait! A satyr named Blasyous was appointed to guide the heroes outside of the wood to someplace where there was supposedly good hunting. Prince Thorn-ass-yus gave the group vials of blue gook which, when imbibed, protected them from the mists. He also yammered on “blah blah blah Silas the Herbalist something wife whose name I don’t remember was a friend something profit.”

Finally, the pixie prince charged each with the task of making a friend of a giant, then reporting back to this wayyyyy off the beaten path wood to earn a dirt-flavored lollipop. Yeah. We’ll get right on that. Sure.

The satyr led the heroes to the moor east of the woods. They camped and found bowls of fruit, berries, and tasty leaves. Yum! Then he led them  directly into a trap!

A few savory boars were partying. Wallace stupidly charged them. We fought the boars until the nearby gnolls ambushed us. Wallace was quickly knocked unconscious and eaten. There was fighting and more fighting… and even more fighting! After seven days and nine nights, Valandrien declared the battle over and slew the last hundred gnolls (except for the one that got away).

The heroes built travoiseses and dragged/carried the boars and Wallace all the way back to Parnast. True to his word, Ragnar threw a feast for all the villagers in the town square. Everyone ate delicious pork and nobody died unexpectedly.

As expected, gnolls attacked the feast. Despite the distractions of Gertrude the Cow and Geriatric Gerald (who died), the heroes proved victorious. The townsfolk were ever so grateful.

Valandrien, out of the kindness of his gentle-yet-brilliant soul, gave Silas the Dead Herbalist’s husband, some extra coin so he could afford a coffin. His burial is in two days.

P.S. Wallace Cartwright lived.

The Black Road
Valandrien's Humble Beginnings


“Chokehold Chuck.” A human pugilist/grappler and drunkard.

Sterrin Blackhand. A human rogue and far traveler.

Valandrien Dezlentyr. A half-elven sorcerer from Waterdeep.


Meeting by chance at the Oasis of Vuerthyl, near the western edge of the mighty Anauroch Desert, the three adventurers met first with Rashemi, an elf with a mustache, and his acquaintance/familiar/boss? Hsing, a gold pseudodragon. Tales were told of goblin raids along the black road, and the need to get a statue of the triune elven goddess to Parnast where it could be admired by the pudding-headed locals.

The heroes enlisted as caravan guards with Azzam. They were desperate to get away from Vuerthyl and getting paid and fed seemed like a good idea.

Or was it???

Yes, actually it was. Let’s move on.

Escorting four wagons, the three naive young murderhobos joined Azzam and three doomed wagon drivers whose names are forever lost to the ages. Valandrien noticed that when he was near the statue, he felt even groovier than he normally did—a feat which he had previously deemed impossible!

Goblins attacked one night and their most important piece of loot was what seemed like a batch of foot-long carved strips of hardened something. These turned out to be toenail clippings from a giant. Chuck fondled them.

Several uneventful days later, the caravan encountered a group of wagons heading east. They stopped to chat and play roshambo. The other group were Zhentarim, led by a blond human man with a badly scarred face named “Fazul Slovis.” He warned Azzam and Company that hobgoblins had erected a wall across the road in a narrow crevasse to the west. Fazul said that he had paid 15 gold pieces to pass.

When they were well away, Azzam complained that the Zhentarim should have destroyed the hobgoblin toll wall; this was ostensibly a Zhent road. Mumble, mumble, and grumble.

In what can only be accurately described as a mass hallucination, everyone allegedly saw a castle on a cloud fly by at a dazzling speed. It was, at the least, a distraction. For the heroes failed to notice something until it was almost (dun dun DUN!) too late!

A terrible sandstorm arose suddenly and terribly. Everyone scrambled to save something from being blown away and lost forever. In the end, only two wagons—one containing the statue, one with water/medication/rare Magic: the Gathering cards and four camels were saved. All of the unnamed wagon drivers were swept off to wherever nameless NPC’s spend their down time.

The heroes had to drive the wagons. Gasp! It was almost beneath them, but not really. They were just rather inept at it.

Further west, the hobgoblins had apparently survived the sandstorm just fine. Their wall was undamaged and formiddable, blocking the entire narrow vale. Careful observation by people other than Chuck determined that most of the “guards” on the wall were in fact straw dummies. The stalwart adventurers attacked and killed all the hobgoblins except one.

That poor excuse for a soldier admitted that a giant named “Bahd Fool” was pushing the goblinoids to attack the Black Road for reasons unknown. They let the hobbo live and watched him run away into the wilderness, certain of the fact that he would never both them again. Ever. Not ever. Never.

Finally, after many days and twice as many nights, the two wagons and four survivors pulled in to the dreary town of Parnast. Chondra, the half-elf/half-babe priestess was so happy to add the statue to her collection, known locally as the “Shrine of Axes,” that she gave <s>Valandrien a huge kiss with tongue and</s> everyone 50 gold pieces.

The locals complained and whined about only getting water, medicine, and rare cards. They reluctantly let the heroes eat crappy food and rent vermin-infested lodgings.

Sterrin scouted around and discovered Azzam was holed up in a mostly-abandoned section of town. Valandrien admired the Shrine of Axes and its other statues while fending off Chondra’s advances.

Chuck got drunk on fermented dirt and shat himself in the middle of the town square.

End Session. 

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