[Written in the late 1980's or early 1990's. It's an incomplete conversion of an uncompleted D&D campaign. You have been warned.]
If Spark had been a lesser man, he would have
grumbled as he stirred the acorn mush.
Living in a hollow log in the deep woods, at least eighteen days’ walk
from the nearest theater, and wearing scratchy, baggy homespun was not the life
to which he had aspired. And the less
said about the current cuisine, the better.
But Spark was cheerful. He was young and full of optimism,
determination, and magic. He knew which
spells he meant to learn and how he would make his way once he had mastered
them. When that unfortunate series of
events back at school had left him certified as an apprentice but unlikely to
be accepted by any academy, sorcerer, wizard, or dwoemercrafter, Spark had
explored the talents of the unallied magickers, disconnected though they
usually were. That the exploration had
been conducted in bars and inn kitchens had been gravy on the goose at the
time.
It had been unfortunate, of course, that his
exploration had revealed only one tutor likely to meet his needs: Fralk the Forester. Spark referred to him, mentally, as Fralk the
Quiet, Fralk the Eccentric, and, occasionally, Fralk the Fool. But Spark spoke no angry or ridiculing word. Spark smiled and did as he was told and
practiced his magic.
He had given Fralk, when he arrived at the log, a
list of the spells he wished to learn in exchange for his service. He was sure
that the wormy old fart would get around to it sooner or later.
In the interim, he would make the best of
things. Aunt Min had discovered his certified
but unapprenticed state two weeks before his departure and had summarily
revoked his allowance. There was some
finicking clause to his mother’s will about continued progress of some sort or
career intention or whatever. The could
sort it all out when he turned twenty-four.
It would sort out more easily if he were a practicing
wizard when he did the sorting. Lawyers
tried to look down their noses at wizards, but not with any real success. Meantime, it was just as well that his living
expenses were low.
Spark gave the mush a final stir. The consistency was perfect. He used a stick to shove the heavy clay pot
off of the coals and onto the cool dirt floor.
He ladled mush into two wooden bowls with a wooden spoon. The he smiled, held one bowl in each palm,
and settled back into himself. He always
enjoyed the first magic of the day.
-----
Fralk was out by the brook, eyes unfocused, when
Spark brought him his mush. Spark plied
his wooden utensil with as much grace as the clumsy thing would allow. He watched out of the corner of his eye as
the old man scooped his mush to his mouth with a casual two-finger hook. After a few bites the old man paused, focused
on his surroundings and scooped another mouthful.
“Nuts,” he said.
“Walnuts,” Spark supplied. “Ground ones to match the texture.” He gestured grandly with his spoon and bowl,
unconsciously lounged back into a properly casual symposium posture, failed
when his back encountered no chair back, smiled wider as he straightened, and
continued.
“It’s impossible to change the texture of food with a
simple cantrip, only the taste. The
trick is choosing added tastes with known textures close enough to the existing
texture of the base food. Then not just
the senses, but the entire mind is fooled.
Admit it, you almost feel the slightly different texture that the taste
of the ground walnuts suggests, don’t you?”
Fralk scooped silently. Birds twittered and darted over the brook,
snatching bugs which, Spark felt sure, tasted nothing like walnuts.
“The base is acorn mush,” said Fralk,
considering. “That’s plain. It’s shifted to taste like oat porridge. And there’s something sweet, but it isn’t
either sugar or honey.”
“Shagbark Syrup.”
Spark was obviously pleased with himself. “Gingered shagbark syrup. Most students can’t get the blend right. Or rather, they’re forced to blend any added
tastes completely. This was a
particularly successful spell. Each
component taste remains distinctly – “
Fralk tapped a forefinger to his lips and made an
open fingered waving motion. Spark took
the hint and faded to silence with just the slightest shrug of the
eyebrows. Both men dug in. It had been, after all, a particularly
successful spell.
When Fralk’s bowl was empty, he stared back at the
brook. Spark crossed his legs and
settled his backbone into comfort. He
had begun joining the old man in his long silences. He did not, however, make the least effort to
still his mind. It jumped from old
memories to future plans. From the feel
of a good oil massage after a sauna to the crisp taste of thick-skinned
Veradney grapes.
He considered what he had learned about the fish in
the brook and how he had determined to fish, even though he knew not the first
thing about fishing. The idea being, at
the moment of decision, that such pottering about would be restful and amusing
even if it was unsuccessful. He
considered his recent success rate, which still surprised him when he thought
about it, then he considered how much water to use to cook chopped fish in
order to make it the same texture as a good ceviche.
That thought captured him. He was deep into consideration of whether to
add cukes of cattail root, cooked, or slivers of wild fennel stalk, raw, and
how best to layer the spell to give the illusion that the lime juice had
permeated the fish without becoming
the fish when Fralk roused and handed him his bowl. Spark took it and stretched before rising.
“You know, they called me the King of Cantrip, back
at school. they meant it as an insult,
too, but they were foolish. The cantrip
is a very versatile spell. And applying
it creatively takes . . . well . . . creativity, I suppose. And subtlety.
I’m still finding new wrinkles to it, even out here.”
Fralk snorted to himself. Spark smiled and turned to wash out the bowls. He sat them on rocks to dry and sat back down
by his mentor.
After a bit, Fralk spoke. “Brook says that fish are sniffing it, down
by the sea, but they’re not serious, yet.
Be another month before they run through here, making for the mountain
shallows to spawn.”
“Mmm,” said Spark, with intelligence. He was rather relieved to hear it. The old man had had a store of smoked fish in
his log when Spark had arrived. It had
taken them through the winter. Spark had
been reluctant to ask after it, once it was gone, but had had the remembered
store in mind when he had begun his experiments with fishing. It was good to hear about a seasonal spawning
run.
The behavior sounded like bloodfish, probably, which
were excellent eating, fresh. Spark
licked his lips.
“Go gather sticks today.”
Spark did not see a connection, but smiled amiably
and asked, “Green? Dry? Supple?
Stiff?”
“Bit of each.
It’s for drying the fish. Go
rustle together a good collection of sticks and I’ll pick out the kind we
need. Then I’ll teach you that locator
spell you wanted.”
“Right.
Right.” Spark beamed. He jumped up, straightened, clicked his
heels, and bowed an elaborate coutier’s bow-of-excessive-gratitude. “I’ll just stash the bowls before I go.”
Spark bounced with youth and good humor as he headed
for the log. Behind him, Fralk watched
him go, blank as ever. For a moment,
though, his eyes twinkled.”
“There are many creative and subtle twists to a
finding spell as well,” he said to no one in particular. The brook babbled on and he turned to listen
to it.
Spark ducked his head to fit through the burned and
weathered hole in the side of Fralk’s log.
It was a big log. Though Spark
was tall for his age, he could take a good two steps from side to side and not
need to duck or hit his head.
Lengthwise, well, it was about as long as three of him.
Not that three of him could spread out. There were trunks and boxes and sacks, and a
fire-pit at one end. Spark stacked the bowls by the fire-pit. Then he strode over to renew the flea
repellant cantrip on the furs and the mosquito, gnat, and fly repellant on the
door. There was a branch boll at the top
of the log that let in a few every day, but Spark left that unspelled. The hole acted as a chimney and for some
reason the mosquito spell messed up the smoke.
Spark tried not to scratch at his few bite welts as
he plucked two straps out of a pile.
These, he thought, could tie the sticks for transport. He crouched, crossed the threshold, and all
but danced into the woods.
He returned, later, with two bundles containing a
fine assortment of sticks, to find a visitor at the brook. The visitor was a whiffy collection of rags
and would have looked like a smaller, younger version of Fralk if a few notable
differences hadn’t interfered.
First, the youngster had a dark avidity to him, even
in repose, that contrasted sharply with Fralk’s unconcerned calm. Second, he
somehow gave the appearance of a town bum and layabout rather than a ragged
forest hermit. Spark could tell how, but
the impression was clear. Last, the
stranger had no magic. Not a thing that
most would have noticed, perhaps, but definitive to Spark.
“Ah, guests,” he said, tucking the bundles to the
side of his third favorite brook-sitting rock.
His first favorite was currently under a rag-covered bottom, while his
second favorite was clearly down wind of the same. “And I forbore to collect wild asters I saw
on my meanderings thinking [fragment ends here]
-------------------
This was an attempt at the novelization of a D&D
campaign. Sadly, the campaign was never
played to completion. It started with
Youngest Son. After a session or two,
Eldest Son and Middle Son joined in and Youngest and Middle got into a
distraction.
While Middle Son’s character was unconscious, Youngest
Son’s character removed a ring from his hand.
There was a Long Discussion about how Middle Son’s character couldn’t
take revenge for something that he didn’t know had happened. I’d say that it was a quintessential D&D
moment, if it had only stayed a moment.
Unfortunately, it dragged. It
recurred. It eventually closed down the
campaign.
-------------------
Loot so far –
2, +1 swords
2, +1 daggers
2, locate spelled buckles
neat clothes and boots
6 gold, 7 silver, 4 copper
------------------
donkey basket (right
[note unfinished – page continues as different note]
for underground –
black pudding trap
carrion crawler
centipede
goblins
imp
larva
lich (phylactery?)
hell hounds 4-7 die, 1-10 AC4
fury(?)
--------------------
map
--------------------
The Adventure So Far . . .
Spark, living in the woods, studying magic with the
hermit Fralk, agrees to go to Davidsville to see if David, the Squire, a local
landlord, has been possessed by a spirit.
David’s behavior had changed some months back and Flea, a local bum and
ne’re-do-well, suspect it’s something more than greed causing it.
Fralk gives Spark the sheath to the Dagger of Lore,
along with instructions and a scroll to enable him to use the sheath to
construct the dagger. Flea goes with him
back to town. The journey to town is
supposed to take two days: one day in
the woods then one day by horseback.
Spark is supposed to borrow a horse from Farmer Dale, who owes Fralk for
past favors.
Unfortunately, Spark and Flea encounter giant
centipedes, which attach them, and giant spiders, which attack also. In both cases they win, but are bitten and
poisoned. The spiders at least had
treasure. Our heroes had to take time to
rest and heal.
On the second day in the woods, Spark learned that
it’s pest to leave giant skunks alone.
He was hit hard and hurt bad, while Flea decided to flee. Spark’s clothing disintegrated. He ponged rather badly.
Out in the meadow, finally, Spark caught several
geese and a pheasant. Then they did the
spell to create the dagger. Since the
spell was not done exactly as written, the dagger talked a lot and liked
limericks instead of answering questions yes or no. It was kind of a flake.
They encountered zombie eagles and took a chain from
one. Spark cast detect magic and found
divinity magic on it. He tried to use it
to scry and failed, so he put it away.
The detect magic spell also revealed that one of the copper coins was
ensorcelled.
Farmer Dale was tight and inhospitable. Fortunately, on the way to his farm, the
heroes had met a farmer’s son looking for a cow. They had walked with him and he and found it
and headed for home. Later, testing the
dagger, they had found the cow again. So
they took the cow to Farmer Brown, its owner.
When they discovered that Jack, his cow-finding son,
had not returned, they sought him with the dagger and discovered he had fallen
down a hole. The whole family went into
the night to find him. There was a
tunnel at th bottom of the hole. Out of
it came magic-distorted bats, which became puddles of acid when killed.
Jack was saved, though his leg was hurt. The dagger scanned a magically shielded space
at the end of the tunnel, with an unshielded tunnel beyond it, heading in the
direction of town.
They stayed the night with Farmer Brown and returned
to Farmer Dale’s the next day. They paid
him for the meal they’d eaten and for new clothes. They later discovered where he buried his
money. They returned to Farmer Brown’s
to borrow a donkey. Dale wanted to
charge too much for the horse. They
headed to town.
A prune merchant named Zeke met them on the road and
they discovered a tombstone with the epitaph “Here lies an ungrateful
daughter.” But the dagger could sense to
sign of a body. Later they all camped
with a dried fig merchant named Giles.
Zeke and Giles knew each other well and argued constantly – mostly about
the relative virtues of figs and prunes.
Zombie crows circled the camp in the night, but with
the dagger’s warning, were driven off easily.
During the night the dagger found a wandering, glassy eyed woman. They
tied here up for the night when they couldn’t snap her out of it or keep her
still. They decided to take her to town,
tool
A farmer met on the way could not identify her. The blacksmith in town would not stop work to
talk and his assistant all but threw them out.
A cloth merchant next door recognized the girl amid a plethora of “oh,
my stars!” She was Belinda, the soap
merchant’s daughter.
When taken to her father, Belinda tried to scratch
out his eyes. At her touch, there was a
flash from her fingers and he fell dead, leaving the new guys in town with a
body. They tested the town for magic and
sought David. Two houses beyond [another
abrupt ending]
------------------
map of town – street with shops on each side
soap / banker
/ Squire’s house / City Hall / / / stable
street
--------------------------------------------------------street
blacksmith / cloth / / / / / /
notes:
meets Mrs. Squire – chain for dog – story of wizard
and cursed shoes
meets City Hall – two guards
removes shoes – Squire convulses – guards attack,
chase
fight and flee – killed guard – destroyed shoes* -
that frees Squire
takes Squire – guard yells kidnap and murder –
townspeople gather – killed other guard – tries to get to Mrs. Squire, settles
for servant boy
Squire in house – comes to – been a long time –
appalled at money spent – goes to City Hall to study papers – discovered money
siphoned off – dagger discovers tunnel under City Hall
checks on Belinda – finds love potion and plot –
Blacksmith’s assistant and Belinda will join the adventure
(guards had magic swords, daggers, and belt buckles)
* curse on shoes would be broken if they could be
immersed in water – guards were chasing party too closely to find well, so
Spark waited for them to have a bit of a lead, dropped the shoes, and peed on
them. Hey, it worked.
-----------------
different notes:
40% chance that zombie crows have fireball amulets
spider amulet on tree under main next, find if detect
magic
Fralk’s log spelled to prevent scrying
Falk is missing.
His stuff has been ransacked
Dagger may have noticed skeleton’s or hell hounds
Magic mouth inside of log. Message:
It swims and eats salad at dawn, crawls and eats meat at noon. (Pause)
Tiny barrel, metal hive, is filled with meat and the meat’s alive.
Skeletons wait for all to come back out.
If Belinda sleeps and dreams (5 rounds) hell hounds will destroy skeletons.
----------------
may be from another campaign –
Brackthane’s wand teleports randomly whenever it’s
used, thus losing itself. (Long list of
silly results from casting with the wand.)
The Enspelled Object will hum or sing its owner to
sleep if requested to do so. Requests
for Huey Lewis and the News will cause the item to shatter.
