There are some nights where you band together, rifle your ever growing stash of weapons and head into danger. There are also nights where set those hazards aside and band together to drink ale and swap stories. Last night we told many stories and drank much ale!

It was a rather impromptu gathering as I collected monies from the sale of goods at the public merchant in Kingsport. Shortly thereafter, Alley Oop strolled into town with some new Epic Cloth gloves she thought I might be interested in. Indeed I am! Following her was Blake Blackstone who, like all good warriors, was checking what mischief might be afoot on such a night. Soon followed Womby, One Zero, Boy Graham and others. As we basked in the cool ocean breeze we soon found ourselves relaxing in the glow of the night and as is prone to happen, we began to regale each other with stories of our adventures throughout the land. Blake and I laughed at the misfortunes we had in the warm embrace of the lava flow. Alley told us of treacherous outings into dungeons wrought with Lich and Ghost. One Zero told us of his many adventures and the lands of peril he had trodden through. Womby told stories of the land’s he’d visited both near and far. I have to say he had a most fetching Elven Archer outfit and I toyed with the idea of shanking him the kidney and trying it on, but that seemed like poor manners and I put the idea aside.

I have to say, it was a grand time. As the night drew on, more adventurers took a seat to share their tales of this strange land we’ve found ourselves in. Some of the tales were of harrowing escapes. Some, meaning mine, were of missteps and misadventures. Others were of riches found and I made careful note of those locations and plan to sneak off under the cover of darkness to see what sort of leftovers I can find.

But the revelry was slightly interrupted by a couple of total witches. Who might these wand toting twins be that had some penchant for being bitten? I must say, no real lady uses that sort of language. And how dare they cast fireballs with such reckless abandon as to nearly singe my favorite hat? I was aghast. I was agog. I was agape.

I believe in the vernacular, they were tipsy harpies looking for trouble. Many times we asked that they join us and tell tales of their adventures as clearly they engaged in battle quite frequently so surely they had some musings to tell. Alas, they didn’t quite take us up on the offer and instead I believe began to chant hexes or some such in our general directions. One of us was slurring their words, so it’s a bit hard to remember what was said. A few offered to take them up on this biting, but as I recall, nothing ever came of it. Pity, could have put quite the capper on the night eh?

As is so often the case after several ales, we decided to go out into the realm and do something rather rash. Not too long ago, Alley and I discovered the literal end of the world. Not to put too fine a point on it, but the world does indeed come to an end. I’m not espousing witchcraft or heresy by saying the world is flat, simply that it comes to an end.

To put an end to the scoffing we strode out into the night and took a trip through the lunar rift. Let me just say that ride can be a little disconcerting after you’ve had a few!

At our destination, we crossed over the rocks and spelunked our way down the side of a couple of cliffs and came to the edge of a heady lava flow. Then, much to the disbelief of the gatherers, we slipped through a couple of passages and found ourselves in the open plains, and at the edge of the world.

To prove the point, Alley ran and leapt over the side. To the amusement and confusion of the crowd, she was gone. She did however reappear a moment or two later in a different location, none the worse for wear. It was then we all took inebriated turns hurling ourselves over the side of the world into the great unknown.

It was quite the grand time I assure you. Nothing says fun like climbing down sheer rock faces and then throwing yourself into the perpetual blackness without spilling a drop of your ale!

To sober ourselves up and to prove that fire can be mastered, we all took a dip in the lava flow. We swam and frolicked like it was a day at the beach.

We reveled into the wee hours and made a grand spectacle!

So, if you see what looks to be a band of brigands down by the docks in Kingsport, no need to run, it’s probably just us swapping stories and telling tales. Have a seat, join us! Share and ale and a story.


We gathered round for story time and compared notes on some of the more grand mistakes we made so far in our adventuring careers.


Told you, these pants aren’t just hot, they’re fire proof!!

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

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