Short Stories & Sagas

There is tale on the southern shores, of a ship sunk in jagged reefs that come up through the waves like knives, of a restless evil that has mastered the labyrinthine of submerged rocks, making its home within the sundered shell of its lairs victims.

Where the Storm God himself strikes repeatedly, in an attempt to cut down what mortal man cannot, it sleeps, waiting for the next victim to fall into the daggers of stone it has made its hunting ground.

No man has ever returned from a ship run aground of the reef, but from the cliffs of the shore, many have vowed they have seen it, snaking in between the rocky peaks below the waterline, a mast in its jaws, and the cries of drowning sailors louder than the crash of the waves.

Author: <@139085755891974145>

Gimme a flagon, a barrel, a wagon, Oh gimme a flask or a pot or a pail, Keep on pourin' til I be snorin' And let's drink that Dawi Ale!

We march by day, we drink by night Through sun and snow and gale, So have a round, a pint, or glass And drink that Dawi Ale!

If there be a table, as broad as is able, Then set down a stump, a chair or a pail For while we war for king and hold Let's drink that Dawi Ale!

So bring on the ale and beer without fail, Oh barlass, our stories regale Tomorrow we fight at dawn's first light But tonight it's Dawi Ale!

Author: <@139085755891974145>

Down, down below With death and dark in stow Where creatures with jagged teeth And the bodies of dead beneath And they bite and snag They butcher and maul Before you’re nothing more Than a midnight snack!

Author: <@224338934031712266>

Our precious road, our mission board, our kind and gentle Lord, All these things have one thing in common, one thing that they share - A small and lovely, halfling ville, where all the guards are fair What is this place, that we so speak of? It's our lovely, Birch-tree town! Our merchant's tools, our drunken fools, our wild, neighboring ghouls, All these things have one thing in common, one thing that they share - Come take a seat, or two, a couple, we've got plenty to spare. What is this place, that we so speak of? It's our lovely, Birch-Tree town! Our rat problem, our height seeking, our adventurous souls, All these things have one thing in common, one thing that they share - Join our guild, for adventurers brave, but only if you dare. What is this place, that we so speak of? It's our lovely, Birch-Tree town!

Author: <@308230653810573323>

Hollowwick town was a small town in the middle of nowhere, a rather unremarkable place mainly populated by dragonborn, beastfolk, and other exotic species similar to it. It was rather unknown by other places within the world, though there were a few rumours around this unremarkable town. It was supposedly infested by curses that seep into the residents, and it was supposed to one day trigged a great plague that would spread through the people there and beyond. Due to this, it was kept isolated and distanced when possible, as nobody wanted to interact with an accursed place.

This was the way it went for many, many years, this small place being blissfully unaware of what was said about it due to the repulsion the rumours caused. Nothing much happened, though soon enough deaths began to rise within the place. The residents started to grow uneasy and panicked as natural life spans seem to be reduced significantly by something unknown, previously perfectly healthy older members dropping down to an early demise, and it was too soon before signs started showing on others. Discolouration of flesh, skin, scales, and fur was the first sign. Sickly black lines running through it.

The next sign would be terrible coughing and shortness of lungs, and then mysterious senses of dread which struck through them, unnatural and sometimes getting to such a severity that people ended up starting to become paralysed from it. The entire place was in a state of shock as people quickly started to get infected by this mysterious condition, paranoia in the masses running through the residents.

Soon enough, flesh of the victims started to painfully wither, showing weakened and brittle bone as well as darkened and dehydrated blood. And soon enough, the very life force was drained from these victims until they dropped dead, contorted expressions of horror left on their face. It was easy to see each death was a traumatic and horrible thing to experience.

Amid the hysteria, a few select adventurers were sent out, calling out for mages and powerful people in addition to clerics and priests to bestow blessings over the afflicted. Though due to the horrid reputation it received, very little help came, though those that did were able to ward off the effects. Spells like Remove Curse and Greater Restoration were useful within this situation, but such powers are rare to obtain. The tide of cursed and dying were slowed down, but only temporarily. A few clerics, Paladins, and wizards remained here to try and cleanse the threat, but they weaken over time.

There has been a rise of funeral workers and clean up crews that are there to clean up the streets and try to comfort the dying, consoling them in such times as these. It is important to keep the bodies off of the streets to reduce infected, so many undertakers have come to take on this line of work in a last ditch effort to prevent the spread. But it was only a matter of time until the Hollowwick Curse spreads elsewhere...

Author: <@601221870347616268>