Month: May 2025

The String Master

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To say that someone who orchestrates the bounty and manhunt on the party with a cursed coin is the string master is likely not giving them due credit. It’s something that few people can do well and in complete secrecy and it do it to this scale and magnitude – well it must be a work of an artist.

So prepare yourselves, grab a coffee to go as we are not nearly done with tonight’s adventure!

The String Master

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The String Master – created in WordPress.

The party absorbed the unnamed mans words and shifted anxiously, tension thickening in the stagnant air of the courtyard. A setup. A carefully crafted story meant to write them as thieves in a crime that never occurred.

The man’s smirk deepened. He slowly loosened the clasp of his cloak, letting it fall open, revealing a sash lined with delicate silver embroidery—a mark of high station, but worn subtly enough to avoid unwanted attention.

‘You misunderstand,’ he said smoothly, ‘the vault wasn’t robbed, because it never needed to be.’

The words hung in the air for a heartbeat too long. Then, realization struck like the tolling of a bell.

The string master, the person calling the shots and twisting the story – someone within the king’s own court – had no interest in the vault’s treasures. They weren’t after gold, nor jewels, nor the ancient artifacts locked behind enchanted barriers. What they wanted was something already outside those grand doors. Something in the party’s possession.

A relic, A weapon, A key. Something that they needed desperately enough to kill the party and take it from their corpses.

Whatever it was, they had it, and they had never known its value – until now.

The man started to hum as the party asked for more information. ‘If I do, you’ll have few choices: leave this city quietly and live, or stay and become hunted again, or work with me to bring the real villain to justice.’

The party exchanged glances. They had fought for their lives since the moment they’d stepped into this tangled web. Retreat was not an option. ‘You were chosen,’ he continued, circling them like a man used to being in charge. ‘You were the perfect scapegoats – troublemakers with enough skill to disappear if need be, but reckless enough that nobody would question your supposed ambition. The theft was fabricated because they needed a reason to pursue you. If the bounty hunters can’t kill you then hopefully they tire you out just enough to hand over what they need.’

His grin was razor-sharp. ‘Why am I telling you all of this? Because I have something they want, too and I won’t be parting with it.’ The weight of his statement settled. This wasn’t just a revelation – it was an alliance forged in quiet desperation.

The question wasn’t whether they could trust him. It was whether they could afford not to.

Thanks for stopping by tonight as we continue this adventure more. Leaving it at a point with a lot more to add but hopefully enough to keep the appetite high for this adventure. So don’t forget that I will continue to expand this adventure each day we continue here at my tabletop so make sure you don’t forget to come back daily to stay up to date. And lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Unfriendly Ally

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Tonight we have a case of an unfriendly ally coming to help to the aid of the party in an unpredicted way. But will they stay true to their word or is this a clever ruse to get the bounty that’s on the parties head?

So tighten your purse strings, check your pockets as we take a leap of faith in tonight’s adventure!

Unfriendly Ally

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Unfriendly Ally – Created in WordPress.

The streets of the city pulsed with restless energy as the party stepped into the open air, shaken but standing. The bounty hunter who had led the crew that hunted them, Jet, had slipped from their grasp – vanishing into the twisting alleyways before they could land the finishing blow. His presence still lingered like the scent of sweat and iron, an omen of trouble yet to come. He wasn’t gone for good. He would regroup, reassess, and return.

But the party had little time to dwell on the outcome of the fight. Their reputations hung by a thread, rumours creeping through the city like an encroaching fog. The accusation against them – false and malicious even with the evidence stacked against them – had spread fast. Too fast.

As they strode down the cobbled streets, they felt the weight of prying eyes. It felt like the whole city had turned against them, whispering suspicions and uncertainties whether directed at the party or something else remained to be seen. They weren’t fugitives – yet – but the wrong move could seal their fate and prove their guilt – only cementing their doom.

One member of the party scanned the faces in the crowd, searching for hostility, searching for recognition. A vendor tightened his grip on a sack of grain, eyes darting away. A pair of city watchmen lingered near a lamppost, discussing something in hushed tones but neither interactions seemed hostile – more uneasy. The party’s presence did not exactly go unnoticed but it wasn’t outright hostility from the whole city which was a relief.

Another party member kept their focus on the task at hand. They needed answers. Someone had orchestrated this, set them up to take the fall for the theft of the royal vaults. The bounty hunter was just the blade; they had to find the man or woman who mislead it. Then, a flicker of movement caught their attention.

Near the entrance of a quiet alley, someone stood apart from the crowd. A figure draped in unassuming cloth, blending just well enough to be overlooked – but not well enough to escape the keen eyes of those who had spent years learning when to trust their instincts.

This person wasn’t watching the streets, nor the vendors, nor the city watch. Their gaze was fixed entirely on the party. And when they noticed they’d been seen, they turned sharply and disappeared into the alley.

Without hesitation. The party followed.

They moved quickly, slipping through the narrow passage lined with damp stone and scattered refuse. The sounds of the city dulled, replaced by the echo of hurried footsteps. The figure darted through the maze-like corridors with practiced ease, leading them deeper into the underbelly of the district.

One member of the party signalled to the others. They had to be smart. If this was truly their accuser, there would be dangers ahead – perhaps more than they were ready to face.

The chase pressed on, winding through the city’s veins until the figure finally halted in an empty courtyard surrounded by towering, neglected buildings. The scent of mildew and forgotten things hung thick in the air. The figure turned to face them at last.

A young man. Thin, wiry, yet standing with quiet confidence. His clothing bore signs of wealth – not a noble’s robes, but the sort of attire worn by those accustomed to lingering in the space between legitimate dealings and more questionable pursuits.

‘I didn’t expect you to be this quick,’ he admitted, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. ‘Though I suppose I should have.’

The party spread out slightly, cautious but prepared. One stepped forward, eyes locked on him. ‘You’ve been watching us.’

A slow nod. ‘I’ve been watching the mess you’ve found yourselves in.’ He tilted his head. ‘And the mess I know you didn’t create.’

The party exchanged glances. The person who could potentially prove their innocence and who might know who the true perpetrator is was standing before them, smug, calm, unconcerned. Not a fleeing coward, but someone who had the look of someone with a winning hand.

A knowing smile curled his lips, but he did not speak immediately. Instead, he took a slow step forward, hands clasped behind his back. ‘You’ve not upset anyone in particular – just in the right place at the right wrong time. You provided an opportunity for someone to slip away unnoticed without drawing any attention to them.’ He glanced toward the exit of the courtyard. ‘These people wanted to make sure they control every aspect of this situation. And powerful people don’t like problems they cannot control. So they set you up and like other bounty hunters I get a chance at a big reward for bringing you in.’

The party braced themselves. The tension grew, the silence stretching long enough to be unbearable.

Then, he exhaled and offered a shrug. ‘But, lucky for you, I’m not particularly interested in bringing in the wrong people. But if you can help me get the right people we can help each other out.’

Thanks for dropping by tonight to get a glimpse of what further we have planned for this week. Don’t forget to come back tomorrow for more updates to this adventure and lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Scape Goats

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Alrighty another night has come and this week we have the party being listed as Scape Goats. While not exactly the best job for someone to take up willingly. However being set up as one, even well known and respected adventurers would have difficulty trying to prove they are innocent from something they didn’t do.

So settle your tabs, grab your gear as we have to run from all manners of bounty hunters in tonight’s adventure!

When the party were first approached and questioned about an object they had found amongst their bags they were puzzled. But when blades, sorcery and more were drawn against them they had to choose between proving their accusers right by fighting violence with violence or seeking the higher path and finding out why and how they ended up in this situation.

More sinister plots surround the party this week as they fight and flee for survival and innocence as those that hunt them are innocent themselves.

Scape Goats

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Scape Goats – Created in WordPress.

The party had just sat down at the bar and pulled out a handful of coin to pay for their meal in celebration of their latest adventure. They had sold what they could, kept what they wanted and otherwise were resting after a hectic few days.

When they looked at the coins that covered the bar one of them stood out – a green and copper coin that showed its age of an unusual shape. It seemed to glisten in the light the lantern and hearth gave off and just watching it caused the party member to lose focus of the room around them.

‘Interesting coin you got there, where’d you get it?’ a voice said to their left that snapped them out of their unknown focus – their food already placed in front of them but the coin remained. The man who asked looked rough but had a charismatic smile about him. A quick trained glance could see that the man had a few accomplices around the room sitting at different tables and keeping a casual eye on the conversation. When the party replied with not knowing where it came from the man grinned.

‘It looks very similar to a coin that apparently the king found on a conquest to the north. One that lives in his vaults.’ the man said as he looked into their faces. Evidently not seeing any indication of guilt he shrugged. ‘But you likely knew that. Like how you knew that the vault was found cleaned out today. The court mage was ordered to find the items and all but one were hidden. And that’s where we come into it. We’re here to ask you to come with us before things get messy. There’s a bounty on the head of those who possess the coin and it looks like we’ve found them.’ he said as his hand rested on the hilt of his blade.

The room went quiet and instantly several more shady characters left the inn muttering something about being home for their wife or husband. The bounty hunters took note of every single one of them. Regardless of how much the party argued that they were innocent the hunters didn’t seem to care and it wasn’t long before the Inn keeper was demanding that they all leave. The party knew that the bounty hunters were innocent – simply following the coin and legally trying to claim a bounty. But to kill a bounty hunter was a criminal offence and their bounty would only increase.

A difficult decision was to be had and as the party carried their possessions, and themselves out of the inn they prepared for a fight that they weren’t sure if they wanted to win it or not.

Thanks for stopping in for tonight’s start to this weeks adventure. A wrongfully accused group where all evidence points towards them being guilty isn’t a new trope but I hope adventure brings something new. Don’t forget that each day this week we expand this adventure further so make sure you don’t forget to come back each day to stay up to date with this adventure. And lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

A Quest for Inspiration

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Now for the next Zine of the year I present, in single page zine format, A Quest for Inspiration. I still believe that these provide DMs a lot more freedom to tinker with it how they want and open up the adventures to be more free formed and flowing than the larger booklet zines.

There is references to the blog nights which are D&D centric (regarding Friday night’s Stat-blocks) but this adventure can be used system agnostic more so than my regular Zines. As always Kobold fight club can be used to quickly balance an encounter for Dungeons and Dragons and Tetra-cube provides the stat-blocks for many of my D&D creatures.

So I hope you enjoy this weeks adventure, A Quest for Inspiration, and that all your rolls are made with advantage.

A Quest for Inspiration

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A Quest for Inspiration – Created in WordPress.

Reginald Tibidius Archer, a famous artist, hired the party to transport his valuable artwork to another city, a seemingly simple task. However, the journey would lead them through bandit-infested roads and dangerously close to a goblinoid hideout known for ambushes. The party gathered supplies, secured the wagon, and set off at dawn. Though the city streets were quiet, they couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. People in alleyways observed them but did nothing suspicious, merely waving as they passed. Still, the eerie sensation of unseen eyes lingered as they left the city behind.

The trip started peacefully, the clear skies and empty roads contradicting the warnings they had received. As they travelled, trees lined with wanted posters hinted at the dangers ahead. When they stopped for lunch to rest their horse, the feeling of being watched returned. This time, they discovered caltrops buried in the dirt ahead, confirming that trouble was near. What had once seemed a simple escort mission was quickly turning into something far more dangerous.

Tensions rose when strange noises echoed from the wagon, prompting the party to investigate. Inside, seated atop crates of supposed artwork, was Reginald himself, scribbling notes with a satisfied grin. He had secretly stowed away, explaining that he had spread rumours of treasure to lure bandits, hoping to witness their fight and regain his lost muse. The party was furious—he had willingly put them in danger just for inspiration. His excitement barely wavered even when reminded of the goblin territory ahead, certain that their battles would make for a brilliant masterpiece.

Hoping to avoid the goblins, the party took a safer route and camped for the night, keeping their fire small and hidden. While checking supplies, they discovered their food bags had been cut open and much of their provisions stolen. As the night wore on, Reginald grew unusually quiet, constantly looking back the way they had come. When asked, he sighed, admitting his disappointment in the uneventful day. His attitude tested the party’s patience, especially those still nursing injuries from earlier conflicts.

Late in the night, the wagon driver took the last watch, allowing the others to rest. But when they awoke, the fire had grown into a roaring blaze, its light impossible to miss. Reginald stood alert, watching the road behind them, while the driver snored deeply. Smiling, he revealed that he had left a trail of food and feared it wasn’t enough—now, with the fire drawing attention, he was sure something was coming. As he eagerly climbed atop his wagon, quill in hand, the party spotted a lone goblin approaching, failing miserably at stealth. But as it nervously crept forward, constantly glancing around, the party realized the true danger wasn’t just this one goblin—it was what lurked in the shadows behind it.

PDF adventure – A Quest for Inspiration

A Quest for InspirationDownload

Thanks for joining me today for another adventure. Please feel free to leave comments if you like what you see when you grab a copy of the PDF. Next time you get a party together consider running this adventure and I hope that you enjoy it. Don’t forget to come back daily so you don’t miss a thing in the coming weeks adventures. And as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Nyxara Cinderthorn

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Today I have something a bit different as I introduce Nyxara Cinderthorn – an elven sorceress for a DND campaign that I am lucky enough to be a player at (for the first time in nearly 10 years…). Today is a bit special to me as it marks the One thousandth, two hundred and Thirty Fourth night writing in a row! (1234) and being a sucker for numbers I wanted to change it up a bit.

Nyxara Cinderthorn

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Nyxara is a PC that I have that is part of a post apocalyptic world set hundreds if not thousands of years after a modern world, like ours, came to ruin. Many old monuments to the old world still reside but nature has taken back most of it. She is part of a group of adventurers who investigate these Monuments called ‘Dungeons’ and looks for answers, treasure and fame.

Nyxara is an wild-elven sorcerer who believes that the strange whispers she hears is the gods of nature calling for help. She has left her tribe and her village looking for the source of these voices to try and work out what her connection to them is but also how she can help save the gods – if they exist or not.

Nyxara Cindethorn – Created in Copilot and GIMP

Back Story

Nyxara was born beneath a night sky streaked with emerald auroras – an omen witnessed by the tribe’s elders on the night of her arrival. The celestial display was rare, seen only once in several generations, and the elders believed it to be a portent of something beyond their current understanding. They named her Nyxara, meaning “Starborn” in their wild tongue, believing her path was touched by forces greater than their understanding. As she grew, Nyxara proved to be unlike the others in her tribe. While her kin revered nature with discipline and devotion, she communed with it instinctively, as though she could feel the heartbeat of the wild in ways others could not. She spoke to the winds, played with creations that she formed from mud and twisted flame to entertain the children and adults alike. However they also feared her budding magical prowess as she was caught playing among the creatures born of twisted mutation, and often stared into the distance not seeing the living as she listened to the silent whispers carried by the leaves, dust, mist and embers.

Her magic was raw and chaotic, unpredictable – yet it never turned against her. When she reached adulthood – quite some time for an elf – her naming rite was held within the forest of her home village. She was sent out into the woods where her feet and the whispers of what she believed to be the gods led her deep within the ruins that lay at the heart of the forest. Large square – nearly perfectly formed stone structures housed large rusted relics from a forgotten age and where she once would have stood at the heart of a city she now saw nature taking back what once was its.

A place once controlled by man to store their vehicles and complete their shopping was a city brought down by time and swallowed by nature. Wandering alone into the ruins – sent by incoherent whispers, she found herself standing at the base of corrupted vegetation as its twisted poisoned roots sought to consume her. She should have died, but something awakened within her. The world pulsed around her, and in desperation, she channelled her magic into the earth through the vines. The vines twisted and burned, transforming into Cinderthorns, fiery tendrils alive with elemental power. They did not wither. Instead, they pulsed like veins of molten fire, revealing markings that no one could read – symbols of a lost time. When the elders found her – brought from the pulse of magic and the column of smoke, they declared this the work of the gods, marking her as Cinderthorn, as its new form and life was fuelled by her magic. The Elders, with Nyxara’s help, took a cutting of the vines and brought it back to the village in an ancient vessel that seemed to contain the heat and voracious appetite of the roots.

Yet, as the years passed, Nyxara began to hear and understand the intent of the voices – whispers carried by the Cinderthorns on floating motes of fire called her to something greater. One night, as she meditated with the elders, the Cinderthorn plant within the village ignited with ethereal energy, forming ancient patterns that no one could decipher. The embers spoke to her and as she reached out and touched them, the world shifted, and she saw a vision. A great ruin, the sundering of the world in a violent outburst. The rebirth of plants and animals as life exploded as it fought to take back what was once lost and a presence, calling to be found within the ruins of old. When she came through she knew then that her place was no longer within the tribe. She had been called to something beyond their teachings of history, nature and the gods, beyond their traditions and rituals.

The gods of nature called her to seek them, and she would answer the call. Against the warnings of her elders, she left the safety of her homeland and entered the world beyond, venturing into the ruins of the old world in search of what remains of the forgotten gods. She believes the answers to restoring nature lie within the ancient depths of lost dungeons – buried structures and temples, crumbling towers, and vaults locked by time and consumed by the earth itself. With her staff, her wild, untamed magic, and the will of the unknown gods, she walked the lush vibrant lands, the crumbling ruins and the cursed sands, speaking to the earth, unravelling its secrets, and battling those who would seek to twist its course for their own gain.

Some call her mad.
Some call her chosen.
But she calls herself the voice of nature’s will.

The Quest

Nyxara’s call from what she believes the gods echoes into her dreams. A reoccurring dream that she has stayed with her for years. Of the forests, of fire and of dragons. These dreams started to take on a different meaning when the elders told her of the story of Scorching Wrath.

Long ago, the land was poisoned beyond recognition by reckless civilisations, and nature called upon its greatest re-balancer, dragons. Entire cities were destroyed and its people fled into the forests and the wilds. The wrath of the dragons did not stop there and soon many of the great forests were razed, rivers dried to dust, and the world was cleansed in flame. Though nature eventually restored itself, the scars of dragonfire remained, serving as a constant reminder that should the balance ever falter again, the dragons will return.

The elders then stressed that If one were ever spotted in the ruins, it would mean the world stands at the edge of annihilation. It was her tribes sacred duty to do what they can to ensure that the world does not tempt the dragons re-awakening and so that nature and life itself can remain in balance.

Not wanting to tempt the return of the dragons she set forth to find the gods, learn from them and do what she believes she was fated to do – save the natural world from another cataclysm.

Thanks for joining me today for a different change in pace. I hope to expand the story of Nyx as the adventure continues. Tomorrow it’s back to the normal schedule with the end of week Zine coming here. So don’t forget to come back for that and, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

The Goblin Kin

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Tonight we have the creatures that the actions of Reginald attracted, but its the goblin kin, no the goblins that they need to worry about. Tonight we have the bigger, meaner warrior-kin of the humble goblins taking to the field for their great hunt.

So keep your wits about you as tonight we deal with the sneakiest of goblin kin, and the biggest, in tonight’s encounter!

The Goblin Kin

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Bugbear Warrior – Created in Tetra-cube.

The Bugbear warrior has had a bit of a glow-up in tonight’s stat-block. Now operating as kidnappers and silent thugs in the night. Able to move while grappling targets make them fearsome and quite frightening considering their Darkvision and preference to attack by stealth attacks bugbears are quite terrifying.

Bugbear Stalker – Created in Tetra-cube.

The bugbear stalker is a stronger, hardened veteran when it comes to hunting prey. Smarter, more experienced and better equipped at hunting prey the Bugbear Stalker is perfect for a night time ambush – unless you are the one being ambushed that is.

Thanks for visiting tonight for another set of updates for this weeks adventure. Don’t forget to come back over the weekend for more updates and lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Goblin Way Camp

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Tonight as the party settle down at Goblin Way Camp – a aptly named common place for stopping for the night due to the natural resources and good visibility – for tonight’s addition to the adventure we get ready for combat during my favourite time for an encounter – night (or Dawn… I guess…)

So let’s wake up, get a coffee and get going with tonight’s map!

Goblin Way Camp

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Goblin Way Camp – Created in Inkarnate.

The fire was meant to be dug deep enough that it provided some light, some warmth but not enough to be seen for a long way away. However Reginald too matters into his own hands and decided to build the fire higher to get the climatic fight that he wanted.

The light shines through the trees like a beacon to those hunting for the hardest of game to find, adventurers, and with a trail of supplies leading them to the wagon and its guardians its only a matter of time.

A quick one tonight with a few layers for texture and use of layering items to get a broader sense of depth. It’s no secret that I enjoy Forest and night scenes so this was easy to make with trees, bioluminescent insects and the use of light from the camp fire to build atmosphere.

Thanks for joining for another map night this week. Don’t forget that we have a few more nights left this week so make sure to come back each day to see what I add to this adventure. And lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Chasing the Muse

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Tonight we have our friendly patron for this adventure chasing the muse that will see his art rise to the top once more. However, the game he plays is extremely dangerous and likely will end in problems for the party let alone himself.

So get comfortable, stare into the embers of the fire as we prepare for tonight’s adventure!

Chasing the Muse

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Chasing the Muse – Created in WordPress.

The party had found a different route that should take them out of harms way from the goblins territory. As they set up camp for the night they decided on a small fire to try and keep it smokeless and keeping it hidden by digging a deeper into a fire pit to avoid the light of the flame travelling too far.

Once the fire was set they retrieved their supplies to avoid trying to attract any wild creatures by hunting and cooking for their meal. But when they went to check what they had remaining they were greeted by a large hole cut into their bags – much of their supplies were missing.

As the night went on Reginald was strangely quiet, always staring off the way they had come and appearing to be listening to searching for something. When questioned he sighed and simply said ‘I fear that I will continue chasing the muse as the last day of travel has been uneventful.’ His attitude was wearing thin on the party – some of which were injured because of his previous actions.

As they settled down for the night the wagon driver offered to take the last watch to make sure they had a full nights sleep in case they needed to leave in a hurry. The party woke up to the sound of cracking wood and the dancing light of the fire as wood had been piled high into the pit. Reginald stood, awake, watching the direction they had come as his driver snored deeply – a wine skin of water tipped over in his lap.

‘I worried that the trail of food would not be enough. But I think this has done it. I saw something in the distance moving. Best wake up the rest of them as I believe I will finally have the inspiration I need for my masterpiece!’ he smiled broadly as he climbed to the top of his wagon and sat on the canvas with quill and parchment, waiting.

Thanks for stopping by tonight as we prepare for a potentially large combat which is again thanks to the parties patron as they continue chasing the muse they seek. Don’t forget that I will continue to expand this adventure each day we continue here at my tabletop so make sure you don’t forget to come back daily to stay up to date. And lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Reginald Tibidius Archer

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Tonight we have the party meeting their benefactor again, Reginald Tibidius Archer, in a most unexpected way. But the party find out at the most unideal moment.

So settle in, grab a coffee as we expand tonight’s adventure!

Reginald Tibidius Archer

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Reginald Tibidius Archer – Created in WordPress.

The wagon creaked as the party moved cautiously toward it, weapons still drawn from their earlier battle with the bandits. After the ambush, they couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The noises, rustling, shifting, an occasional noise that couldn’t be explained by the driver had grown more frequent.

With a quick glance at one another, the heroes gave a silent nod. Enough was enough.

The party deftly unlatched the wagon door and swung it open as the other members of the party convinced the wagon driver to stand aside. Inside, among the carefully wrapped crates of supposed artwork, sat Reginald Tibidius Archer, cross-legged atop a bundle of canvas, a quill in hand, scribbling furiously in a leather-bound journal.

He looked up, surprised but not panicked. ‘Ah! You found me.’ He grinned, tapping his quill against the page.

The party moved forward to question why he was there, not back in the city where they last saw him.

The artist cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘Well, my friends, I must admit – I was rather hoping to get a front-row seat to your heroics.’ He gestured grandly. ‘You see, I had lost my muse! My inspiration had run dry. I needed something… dramatic, powerful, full of risk and wonder. So, I made sure word spread that my wagon was filled with rare, priceless treasures, expecting that brigands might come sniffing about.’

‘You lured bandits on purpose?’ was what came out from the party.

Reginald nodded eagerly. ‘And it worked! You handled them magnificently. Every sword swing, every spell – it was art! I needed to witness such bravery firsthand.’ He flipped his journal to show hastily sketched outlines of the battle. ‘Your fight—it’s already taking shape into something incredible.’

when the party expressed their distaste for his risky behaviour the artist chuckled for but a moment.

‘Art! A grand masterpiece! The greatest adventure ever told!’ His enthusiasm faltered as he noticed the party exchanging concerned looks.

As the party expressed their growing concerns with the safety of this trip they reminded Reginald about the goblins that also stalked these roads about half a day from now.

Reginald tilted his head, considering. ‘Ah. Yes. That is a rather pressing concern. But I am sure that you will get us through it. And it will give me the best inspiration I can ask for!’

The wagon creaked again as the party closed the doors, preparing for the next leg of their journey—with one unexpected passenger in tow.

Thanks for dropping by tonight to get a glimpse of what further we have planned for this week. Don’t forget to come back tomorrow for more updates to this adventure and lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

The Inspiration

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An artist without a muse is a terrible thing, but when the muse he requests is to accompany a party of adventurers on a journey through dangerous country in the hope of gaining ‘The inspiration’ things go from wrong to worse. Buckle up as this weeks going to be a big one!

So tighten your boots as we kick off into tonight’s adventure!

While artists gain the inspiration needed for their artwork from nature, a muse or from the coin for their employers some require a bit of extra help. When the party take on a job to transport a wagon of valuable goods through dangerous country they couldn’t have known that their employer was the goods.

An artist without a muse is a dangerous thing – searching for the muse may be even more so as the roads get worse and now with an artist to escort to safety everything could go wrong.

The Inspiration

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The Inspiration – Created in WordPress.

The party had finished signing the contract with Reginald Tibidius Archer, a renown artist, who needed his valuable works of art transported to another city in a hurry. This meant that the party and the wagon driver would need to travel along bandit infested roads and very near to a goblinoid hideout which was known for being ambushed by both the little and larger tribe members.

As they looked over the journey and organised supplies they never thought that they could be so wrong about a straightforward job like this one. The next morning they set off with the reasonably heavy enclosed wagon which had been sealed by the driver earlier that morning. The road out of the City was nearly vacant this time of the morning but the party still had an uneasy feeling that they were being watched.

Sure enough there were a few men and women who watched the wagon from the alleyways but made no move and waved to the party as they passed through. Yet despite the weird-yet-peaceful interaction the feeling of being watched continued until they were out of the city.

The roads were clear and despite the few clouds in the sky it was a clear day overall. The roads were quiet which contradicted the warnings that the guards at the gate gave them as they carried on further along the roads towards Deepport, their destination. It wasn’t long until every few trees had a warning poster of a wanted criminal that was last seen along this road.

After stopping for lunch to ensure that the horse had a break from pulling the wagon the party began to get ready when that feeling of being watched grew again. This time the culprit, likely culprit, was found. A glint of steel could be seen from the road up ahead – caltrops nearly completely buried in the ground – it looked like the road was about to prove the guards warnings right.

Thanks for stopping by for the start of a new week. Tonight just see’s is us getting started with the next few days really building upon the story. So don’t forget to come back each day this week to make sure you stay up to date with this adventure and lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe