The Beginning

Hey folks,
Whaddya think of this?


Princess Aetna swung her mighty bastard sword with deadly accuracy, neatly cleaving the hideous kobold's head from its loathsome shoulders. A familiar crackling sound caused her to duck quickly, but not quickly enough to avoid getting some of her long, blonde hair singed as Motan the Magnificent's lightening bolt spell shot over her head to immolate four of the slavering attackers. She wheeled, and the wind was driven from her lungs as an arrow pierced her armor just below her heart. Enraged, she withdrew a small throwing axe from her belt and hurled it at the archer, neatly burying it between its tiny, pig-like eyes. Aetna gripped the protruding shaft, and with a growl of defiance tore it from her body, and plunged it into the eye of doglike abominations of nature. Suddenly a cool, tingling green light enveloped her, suffusing her with strength and peaceful calm. The sounds of battle faded and for a moment she felt as if she was resting beneath the verdant trees of her native forests. Just as suddenly the healing spell was finished, and the calm was replaced with renewed rage.

"Thanks, Targon!" she shouted to the Elven cleric. Targon merely nodded. He required no gratitude for serving his gods. At least none from mere mortals.

"Aetna! Behind you!!" It was the clear, deep voice of Sir Llewellyn, the Paladin, warning her of a kobold assassin coming up behind her. Aetna shrieked a battle cry as she spun about, sword outstretched to take advantage of the momentum of her spin, but just as she was about to split the beastly foe from nave to chops, her blood-slick fingers slipped on the hilt of her sword and it flew from her grasp to land uselessly against the far wall of the cavern. She gaped in horrified disbelief, then felt the assassin's dagger pierce her heart. With a look of frozen astonishment on her face, Princess Aetna died.

"What?!" Keith shouted. "What do you mean she's dead?"

Jeff just shook his head. "I'm sorry, but you rolled a one. You know that's a fumble, and the assassin rolled a critical hit with a +5 dagger of slaying. Your fighter is dead. Now be a good little corpse and be quiet till the battle's over. If Dave's cleric survives he can resurrect you."

Keith sat down in a huff as the battle concluded. No one else got their character killed, which made him all the more angry. Good to his word, Brother Targon breathed life back into Princess Aetna, and all was well again.

"Ok, guys," Jeff said, "it's getting late, and I have a big test in the morning. Let's call it a night here."

No one argued the point, since it was nearly 11:00, and their parents would be expecting them home soon anyway. Besides, it had been a good night's gaming. They all bagged up their dice, gathered their miniatures and manuals, and headed out. Jeff stopped Keith at the door.
"Hey, you're not still pissed about Aetna, are you?"

"No, not at you. I'm pissed at me for being pissed at you, but I got a shitty roll, that's all."

"Cool. See ya in the library tomorrow?"
"Yeah, after lunch."

Opinions? Interested in where this is going? Oh, and any resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is purely coincidental. I mean, come on. Dave would NEVER play a cleric. ;-)