So, as I stated in the first post, the summary is pretty much how this long running group got their name. It’s been, probably, the best D&D campaign I’ve ever run and the first game in general in my years of GMing, to reach a solid conclusion. There were many adventures after this post as this really only covers the first 5-6 sessions. However, given the gap of approx 2 years, my memory is a little rusty as to everything that’s happened. However, I do plan to try and continue with my habit of posting game summaries once the Company resumes its adventuring lifestyle.
As for these little fictionalized bits, honestly, they never happened. At least, not in the manner that I’m writing them. There have been instances though where they’ve found themselves in an inn somewhere and Xephael’s tale has made it into the hands of whatever entertainer is playing there. In writing these bits, I think I’ve captured the collective essence of how these characters may have acted in this kind of situation. Plus it was a good attempt to flex my creative writing muscles. I did go back through and clean up what I could as these were written several years back. But otherwise, I left them as is.
Anyhow, without further ado, the finale of the Introduction of the Company of the Combustable Commode.
“So, the group’s name is all your fault, then?” says the turban-wearing human to his younger companion across the table.
The young monk remained silent, flashing only a mischievous grin in reply.
“Aww, he missed the best part about what happened when Illyana got away!” the wood elf woman sitting at the bar laments. She turns to the dwarf and pokes him in the ribs. “You remember, right? About how all you big, brave men were too afraid to walk into the big cloud of darkness covering the secret door and it took the little lady to dispel it?”
The dwarf levels a gaze at her. “You are far too proud of that rock o’ yours,” he grumbled.
“Of course!” exclaims the gold elf at the bar. “The princess’ light stone would counteract a darkness spell!”
“Don’t call me that, ‘coz,” says the wood elf, brandishing a fist at the gold elf.
The gold elf continues, undaunted, over the wood elf’s objection. “But I am confused. Why would you all be afraid of the darkness?”
“We’d never seen it afore,” the Dwarf explains, “and only an idiot would walk inta something like that if’n they’d never seen it afore.”
“I wasn’t afraid of it,” says the wood elf.
“I see,” says the gold elf, “case in point.”
“So, you were simply standing around staring at it?” the gold elf asks of the Dwarf.
“Course not! We tried a buncha things. Junior even shot a Magic Missile at it.”
“A Magic Missile?”
“At the darkness.”
“Just as we was all standing there.”
A silence hung in the air as the bard took a final pull from his mug of Firewine. He breathed a sigh as the warmth removes the last of the cold that plagued him.
“Well folks. It’s been enjoyable. But the long road has made me weary and my bones do ache for a bit of rest. Perhaps I shall continue this tale in the morn.”
Amidst the groans of a disappointed crowd, the bard makes his way to the stairs and to a nice warm bed to rest his travel-weary soul.
“Oh, thank the Forest Queen!” exclaimed the elven woman at the bar. “He stopped.”
“Of course, that implies there is more to come,” said the gold elf, “and he did say he would continue tomorrow.”
“Stop raining on my parade.”
“As you wish,” replied the gold elf with a mocking flourish of a bow. The elven woman shot him a glare.
“Not what I would have done with the tale,” said the moon elf.
“We know, Points,” said the dwarf, “yer damned lute twiddling keeps us up for hours on end every night.” He took a pull from his mug.
Just then, a young girl came bouncing into the taproom and swept directly over to the table where the two humans were sitting. “There you are, Nicodemis!” she exclaimed, immediately latching on to the younger, taller human’s arm. “I finished getting the supplies I needed, so I’m ready to keep traveling tomorrow. Can we go upstairs to the room, now?”
The young human blinked once… twice… then pushed his plate and mug aside in a hurry, grabbed her by the hand, and disappeared up the stairs of the inn. The other human was rather mystified, but silently continued eating.
“Geeze, what a doormat,” muttered the elven woman.
“Well, not all women are like you, Hadoriel,” said the gold elf, “some actually like the attentions of males.”
“First, I was talking about Junior.”
“And second, Amarthir,” she continued with eyes narrowed at him, “just what, exactly, are you implying?”
And it was then the wizard suddenly noted the flush that had come to the elven woman’s cheeks. A glance at her stein told him why; it had nothing to do with embarrassment. In short, it was a somewhat dangerous combination.
“Perhaps it is time that I retire as well.”
“S’what I thought.”
A thought, it seemed, that the rest of the group shared as they felt the weariness of their travels settling in. With a few coins to the innkeeper, the party retired for the evening as they had a long trek ahead in the morning and they knew not what the new day would bring.
Such is the life of an adventurer.