Dungeons and Dragons

The ranger sniffed the air and shot a few furtive looks around.
Then headed into the darkness underground.
The silence of the shaft was only punctuated by the rings of falling water droplets.
"This is not right," she whispered to herself, whiskers standing to attention with unease. Her nostrils flared with the coppery smell of blood.
She notched an arrow into her bow.
Suddenly a shape came into view. An abandoned cart.
It looked empty, but a quick swipe of her paw caught a small metallic pebble.
Maybe this will pay for a bit of trout from that nearby farm...

Most of the villages along their way were not affluent to begin with.
But with the Rad's creeping encroachment, they became almost unlivable.
Most able bodied men gang pressed into service, or dragged off into mines.
The louder of the women shot as an object lesson.
Houses, barns and fields stripped of anything useful.
But some people were devious or better prepared than others.
"That's the last of them," the sorceress dusted off her robes, looking at the pile of flour sacks they stored in a hidden basement.
"Thank you, friends," the miller smiled, rewarding them with a magic wand.

Všechny kostky byly vrženy a draci poklidně spí v jeskyních.
„Co příští pátek?“ zeptá se Druidka.
Kouzelník zavrtí hlavou. „Nemůžu, hlídám děcka. Sobota?“
Oba pozvednou oči k nebesům, a ozve se hromový hlas.
„Sorry, celej víkend budu v Praze.“
Všichni tři si povzdechnou.
„Dobře, fajn, co tohle,“ zamyslí se Druidka. „Já ve čtvrtek vynechám přednášky, ty,“ ukáže k nebi, „máš volno, a Kouzelník zkusí ukecat brzký odchod z práce."
„No dobrý, ale co Paladin? Ten čtvrtky nemůže.“
„Není tady, aby se domluvil, takže buď se přizpůsobí, nebo nehraje.“
„To zní jako plán,“ zahřmělo z nebe. "Jeho postavu kdyžtak sežral drak."

The ground lurched and the paladin slid down an embankment, where the rest of the party crouched for cover.
"Well, that's our answer about this 'three crones' thing, I guess."
He grimaced at the warlock, who just shook his head, popped up and fired off an eldritch blast.
One of the three unfortunately deflected it, and in response the ground shook again, this time sprouting some menacing wines.
"We need our cleric, where is he?"
A snoring was his reply.
"Seriously??? He is still out, with all that ruckus around? How long does that sleep spell last, exactly?"
Everyone shrugged.

She was the force that united them, the thing that held them together when the forces of the world threatened to tear them asunder.
Some said she was a princess of old, the one who led the first inhabitants to the land of milk and honey. Others thought she was the goddess, the creator.
One thing was certain - she was the Savior, the Protector.
To be an Erekari meant to believe in and worship her.
Dcerka, our Lady, do not let us or future ones perish.
"I will not.
I will go with you everywhere, and bring you back home."

One of the camp followers approaches the party, bent over the map, plotting the next course.
"We should stop by this village over here," she says, half pleading.
"Why? It's out of our way, and there's nothing remarkable about it."
She blushes.
"My sweetheart is there. We haven't seen each other in weeks, and I am worried sick, with the Rad's activity..."
"You're afraid they'd kill or convert him?"
"Don't we have enough eligible Erekari men in our ranks?"
She blushes again.
"We do have men, yes. But Grace is the best herbalist I've ever known. She could join us."

Forests were good.
They were a source of wood, food, medicinal herbs and good hiding places.
"Hello forest! Run!" joked the druid of the party.
"You know it doesn't work that way," came an unexpected answer. "We plants prefer to stay put."
The sorceress firebolted the shrub, before anyone could stop him.
The ranger's hound averted catastrophy by peeing on the fire, making it go out.
"Gross," the shrub shook droplets off its leaves.
"I could have used holy water," mumbled the cleric.
That's when a ghost-like figure rose out of the branches.
"Next time, I'll mask as a waterfall!"

"Go east to get west!"
The conflict that changed the whole world is barring us from returning to Erekaria directly.
The caravan needs to make its way across the continent to the sea.
The Mirians, on whose land we find ourselves, were our allies until their land devolved into a civil unrest, that is just flaring up into an outright war.
We don't want to join any of the sides.
Our fearless leaders must do anything that is needed to protect us on this journey.
The ships are waiting to take us home over the sea.
Lion's might, Falcon's flight!

In a way, the Rads were predictable. Press everyone to convert (and give their worldly possessions into service of "the cause"), or murder them in their crusade (and take their possessions anyway).
Travelling through the night, you could see the fires burning - non-compliant, looted villages set alight, or camp bonfires celebrating the latest success?
Sometimes you could tell by the sounds... other times... you could not.
The smart option was to not engage.
It might be easy.
Sneak by, while the garrisons sleep in drunken stupor.
Treat locals with respect, but do not see the pleading tears in their eyes.

Another day, another road.
The caravan plods along, at a pace the slowest of them can keep. Unease grips at every soul. Eyes dart back and forth, left, right... Sometimes one of the rear guard turns in their saddle to face backwards.
Everyone knows danger lurks everywhere around them. The question is, what are they facing today. Monsters from the wilds? Rads? Something worse?
The scouts are coming back, foreheads creased with worry.
The leader raises his arm and the wagons stop.
"Form the wagon fort!"
Five officers peel off.
The prayers of the whole Erekari camp go with them.