As apart of a pitch for a Dungeon & Dragons 5th Edition Curse of Strahd PBP game on Mythweavers, I wrote this little piece of fiction for about my character. Enjoy!
Half-a-dozen recruits, fresh off the bus, stood at attention. They were lined up for their first inspection in the center of the recently repopulated boom-town. Before them stood two gray cloaked figures: one a gnarled, hunched-over old man with sun-weathered brown skin with a long beard, and the other a tall bespectacled white woman, her blond hair held tightly in a bun on the top of her head. Silent looks passed between the recruits as they waited for the Wardens to do or say something.
Day 187 of exile in this shithole:
EVERYTHING WANTS A PIECE OF MEE!!! Not in the “oh Albrecht, you’re soo a hand-some, please plow me vigorously” kind of way but in the “oh Albrecht, you’re so tasty, let us drag you into our cold black den and devour you” kind of way! I’m not sure what I have gotten myself into, but if I live I am going to give that hag at the Bathory & Cage a piece of my not in-considerable mind!
I woke to the ringing of bells (looking back as I write this, I’d say that was probably the least fucked up morning call I could have expected). I was dizzy, disoriented. I had no idea were I was. I tried to sit up and, immediately upon the attempt, was sick into an empty bucket that lay nearby.
Jessica waved and said her good-byes as she descended the stairs outside of Blackthorne’s Books and Sundries. Tonight’s meeting was blessedly different from ones in the previous months: no one lost to the Formor this week, no guest speakers polishing their self-defense skills, and no need to huddle with other ‘netters in what charitably could be called a bunker in fear of her life. It had been a laid-back affair with everyone talking shop over coffee and cakes: a rare moment of normalcy in a world that increasingly seemed to have spun out of control.