Campaign Chronicles

The adventurers all struggle to reach sitting positions, questions tumbling through groggy, alcohol-impaired minds, those questions being primarily, "Where is Silvanesti," "How did we get here," and "Who is this King Lorac person?" The matron opens her mouth and is about to speak when Grotto swings his feet over the side of his bed and attempts to stand. His stomach rebels, instantly and violently. The only thing that keeps him from emptying its contents onto the polished marble floor is that it is already empty. The dwarf's knees buckle as he dry heaves over and over again, struggling to catch his breath as tears roll down his cheeks. After about a minute, three elves help him back onto the mattress, one pats his back between the shoulders while the others avert their eyes, not facing Grotto’s scarred visage directly.  Romulus, clears his throat, smiles and takes a handful of the offered foods. "I'm so hungry. It feels like i haven't eate

I have started this post a couple of times now. Each attempt has left me feeling, well, "meh", for lack of a better word/sound effect. Capturing the majesty of Odin wasn't working and the thought of another 15 posts worth of conversation literally bored me. So, instead, we skip ahead to the next world so the group can hit the ground running. Enjoy! - - - -  "I think this one is waking up," said an unknown voice from...somewhere above. The gentle tone resounded with the thunderous roar of an erupting volcano. Following his first retirement, Kysek had spent his accumulated fortune on the best clothes, finest foods, and sweetest wines in an unrivaled decade of decadent debauchery. And never, not even once, had he been in such agony after a night of partying. He cast his mind back to the previous evening, drinking in Valhalla alongside his companions and the gods. Through a muddled haze, he dredges a memory to the surface. "Moments before the All-Father's a