Frug’s Lonely & Confused Adventures in Dark Sun

Frug was confused. Killjoy the Minotaur fighter, his friend, had thrown him at an oncoming army of Orcs. He bounced around on the stone ground of a tower that had fallen on its side and was rolling down a side of a mountain. He slid further and further away from his allies and the Orcs […]

Frug was confused. Killjoy the Minotaur fighter, his friend, had thrown him at an oncoming army of Orcs. He bounced around on the stone ground of a tower that had fallen on its side and was rolling down a side of a mountain. He slid further and further away from his allies and the Orcs who were doing battle in the rolling stone cylinder.

Frug is small. He is a Gnome. His small chubby hands couldn’t grasp any of the stones to stop his slide. He saw the opening get closer and closer and he got dizzy as he watched the sky and ground topple over each other.

He fell out and bounced on the hard ground and when he bounced to a stop he watched the tower roll over the side of a cliff. He heard the crash as the tower landed at the bottom. He saw some Orcs drag the bodies of some of his allies back towards the castle, which was hazy behind a cloud of dust from the tower toppling over sideways.

He got up and stealthily followed the Orcs and his captured companions towards the wall of the castle. The Orcs were bickering in Giant, an ugly guttural language. He saw that they had captured the Warlock, the Warpriest and the Rogue. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he knew he should try to rescue his friends.

Frug wasn’t a fighting Gnome, but he knew how to spin a tale, play a song and juggle. He knew how to heal those that were sick or wounded and he knew how to make fun of his enemies, so he knew he was going to have to be as venomous with his words as he ever had before.

As he snuck into the castle, he found his bird friends he had made earlier that day when he talked them into fighting for him instead of against him. They were happy to see him again, so they squawked and hopped over to see him. They were terribly upset that their nests were destroyed when the Orc army toppled the castle.

He listened to them tell their tales of woe and were willing to help him rescue his friends from the ugly Orcs. They wanted revenge and they also were willing to follow Frug anywhere.

They came to a door way and a stairwell that led down to a giant door. The door was giant and made of oak with iron designs interlaid over the wood. A giant lock was in the middle, but the door was slightly ajar, and Frug’s curiosity got the best of him. He told his bird friends to wait for him at the top of the stairs while he investigated the door’s mystery.

He found himself at the top of another stairwell and a round door way awaited him at the bottom. He felt a strange energy emit from the door and his curiosity drew him to the round portal. He pushed and the door opened.

He stood on a marble platform surrounded by orange nothingness. An alien breeze blew through what seemed like infinite space and he became scared. He had never seen anything like this before and he couldn’t quite get his arcana knowledge to help him understand this vast nothingness.

He suddenly became aware of a ship flying through the air had approached his platform and he understood he was on a dock. Men were busy getting the ship ready to dock on the platform and one of the men hailed Frug in common and Frug waved back and approached the ship.

The men were green and looked a little like fish men, but more alien. He had never seen men like this before, but they seemed friendly and not threatening and after his own friends had just thrown him at dangerous foes, Frug was ready for new friends.

“Hello, traveller,” the one that looked like their leader said to Frug, “Where can we take you on this beautiful sailing day?”

“I wish to leave this place and find a new home with new friends, friends who dare not throw me at Orcs.”

“Well, for one hundred gold, we can take you to the beautiful city of Tyr, land of mystery, spice and sun.”

“Oh, my.” Said Frug, “I don’t carry gold with me and all I have is song, stories, jokes and my lute to play for your journey.”

The leader gathered the other sailors to conference. He saw them look over at him every once in awhile

“We have decided to let you travel for song and stories, little artist.”

He got on the boat and they shoved off and flew through the orange winds. Frug immediately told his sad tale of betrayal and loneliness and the whole crew began to cry for him. How could anyone hurt little harmless Frug?

He decided to liven the mood up and began telling jokes, singing happy songs and juggling things that he found on the ship. The crew became happy and laughed in merriment at everything Frug did. They all said this was the most entertained they had been ever. Frug had new friends.

They approached a similar dock soon and the sailors and Frug parted company with hugs and laughter. They said that Frug was always welcomed on their ship, for he was good luck.

Frug walked through the portal and found himself in a basement full of ale and wine. The air was warmer and dryer than he was used to. He heard what must be a tavern at the top of a stairwell. He knew tavern people would welcome a bard with a lute and tales to tell for some frothy cold ale or meade.

He was right; he played not even a full song when the flagons of ales began coming his way. It was hot there and the cold refreshing drink was welcomed. The entire tavern was taken by the Gnome and even gave him gold pieces and jewelry. The girls played with his hair and rubbed his short stout thighs.

Everyone there was exotic with long flowing robes and strangely designed jewelry. He noticed a large man wearing billowing pants and a small vest surrounded by thugs and women. The large man was laughing and loving Frug.

After Frug decided to take a break after juggling knives and telling the adventure tale of Logan the Raging Barbarian and the Raven Queen, a brute of a man approached Frug and asked him to have an ale with his boss. Frug knowing that refusal would mean harm, said he would love to.

“You have made me very happy,” said the large man, “I am Haneth Tsalaxa and I’m a simple merchant who deals with fighters for the pits.”

“And I am Frug, Gnome bard of the Neverwinter Vale.”

“I am so pleased to meet you, young Frug of the Neverwinter Vale. You pluck the Lute like a God who doesn’t grace our world anymore, you spin tales like the two suns that bake our earth and you juggle like the Thri-Keen acrobats. You make me happy and wish you to travel with me across the desert to Raam to bring fighters to entertain.”

“Since I am no longer in my world and don’t wish to find my so called friends again, I accept your generous offer. I would love nothing more than to join you.”

“Then we leave on the morrow!” Haneth bellowed with much joy, “Bring us more drinks and I must have women dance!”

Women in revealing clothing began dancing in circles around Frug and Haneth in seductive ways that made Frug dizzy. The hot air wasn’t getting any cooler as he noticed the suns going down. He also felt like he may have had too much ale and began to sway without moving.

It was morning and Frug was ill. He was in a room full of pillows and two naked women laid besides him. He was hot and sticky with sweat and he felt nauseous. He didn’t remember leaving the tavern or what may have transpired between him and these two naked damsels. He wanted to remember, for it had been a long time since Frug felt the touch of a woman.

A large fellow wearing nothing but a loin cloth and a cross of iron across his chest entered the room and told him he needed to get ready, for they were leaving in an hour. The girls got up grabbed their clothing and left. Frug was sad, but he knew he needed to play it cool, for he knew that these were not men to cross. He put on his clothes, found his armor and crossbow and lute and found the party in the courtyard loading up wagons that were drawn by large lizard like creatures. Frug stayed as far away from the giant lizards as possible because he didn’t want to be a lizard snack.

Haneth was bellowing orders and pointing at things as bosses were prone to do and only when he spied Frug edging along the wall away from the lizards did a smile spread across his face.

“Gnome! Are you ready for adventures that you will sing about later?”

“It is why I made sure my lute was packed, I must be ready at all times to sing the praises and successes of Haneth Tsalaxa!”

Haneth bellowed with great joy and slapped Frug hard on his back making the Gnome stagger against one of the lizards. Frug froze with fear as the lizard look back at him and a tongue flickered in and out, but the lizard mostly looked bored and turned back to look straight ahead.

Frug was told to board the bigger wagon with Haneth and found it to be very comfortable with pillows and ladies fanning the wagon with giant palm leaves. He thought how bad could it be? He lay down on a pillow and immediately began making up travelling songs on his lute.

The wagons made its way through the city. It was mostly made up of sandstone buildings and there were domes and spires everywhere. It was a large city surrounded by a tall wall. The people were everywhere wearing long flowing walls. He saw a lot of Drow and he remembered Ryltar and the creepy hexblade that came and went whenever he chose. He saw some that looked like insects walking on human feet. He saw beardless dwarves and more dragonborn than he had ever seen before. He saw men with tattoos all over their bodies and women who wore just enough to hide their breasts and crotches. He saw merchants selling carpets and spices. Everything was alien including the two suns baking everything.

They went through a gate and were in a desert where the horizon never moved. It was hot and the only breeze came from the girls fanning him and Haneth with the leaves. They never stopped. Haneth kept asking Frug for more songs, more stories and more jokes. Frug was afraid if he stopped, Haneth would dump in the middle of the desert and he would just die, so Frug gave him every song, every story and every joke he knew and then he would tell them again, but just change things a little so Haneth wouldn’t notice.

Behind the wagon, Frug noticed when he went to piss, was a line of twenty or so men stripped down to loincloths chained up and walking behind the wagons. They had their heads down and were covered in desert dust. The suns were burning their backs and some had giant blisters forming on their exposed skins. These weren’t fighters – they were slaves.

Frug was scared and usually let Dara the Half Elf worry about morals, but his morals were being questioned right now. He didn’t dare question Haneth, but he knew if he had a chance he would bolt. He would wait till he was somewhere more hospitable.

They camped at a small oasis that night and Frug was asked to keep the caravan entertained throughout the night. He was worried he was going to run out of songs to sing, but the party didn’t seemed all that concerned when he repeated any stories or songs. They loved the Logan stories, but they also liked the Orrick stories. Orrick was the world famous Halfling thief who was one of the only survivors of the Halfling holocaust.

The slaves were chained up and kept with the lizards that lay around in the hot sand eating insects that flew by. Insects that was large enough to carry Frug away. He felt sorry for the slaves, but knew he didn’t dare revolt.

The next morning they were off again and Frug had to keep entertaining Haneth. The only relief was when Haneth napped all afternoon when the heat was unbearable. Frug kept drinking water but couldn’t stop being thirsty.

While the caravan was stopped to make some repairs, Frug tried to do some magic for some of the girls. He pulled off a slight illusion, but noticed that when he did it, one of the lizards became sick and some dry grass at his feet withered to dust. He asked Haneth about this and Haneth became anxious.

“Don’t do magic! Are you crazy! Anytime you use magics here, you defile the living around you! Don’t ever do magic again, young naïve Frug.”

Frug was at a loss. He has known magic for so long he didn’t know how to fight or live without using it. He needed magic if he was going to escape the caravan of slavers. Frug was smart; he’d find a way to get away.

They were approaching another oasis to camp for the night. The scouts had come back to let them know that all is well. Frug watched the scouts’ horses gallop over the sand dunes. One of the riders fell off his horse and when he landed did not move. The other rider did the same thing seconds later. This time Frug saw the arrow hit the scout in the neck.

A group of bandits were riding horses down a sand dune towards the caravan. The toughs started circling the wagons to make better defenses. Frug got his crossbow out and started laying the bolts in front of him for better loading. Haneth drew a bow and set his quiver in front of him.

The bandits were all Orcs and Half Orcs. Frug shivered remembering that fateful day that Killjoy threw him at some Orcs. He aimed at the lead horse waiting for him to get in range.

Haneth and a couple of his toughs started using their bows with deadly accuracy. Orcs were flying off their horses and spilling blood on the hot sand. Frug shot an Orc who had made it through the archers range and watched the bolt land deep in the Orc’s chest. The bolt began to glow red-hot.

Some other Orcs got to the perimeter and started melee fighting with some of the toughs. Frug aimed at another Orc. While the bolt flew towards its new home, Frug sang a melody of eldritch quality that assaulted the Orc’s senses while wisps of light began to blur the outlines of Haneth’s men. The Orc spun as the bolt drove home and the other Orcs were having trouble seeing Haneth’s defenders.

Frug’s shot made another Orc unaccountably clumsy.

While shooting at another group of Orcs coming over the wagons, Frug unleashed a string of insults weaving them with bardic magic that began to send the Orcs into a blind rage making them make mistakes and missing with their swings.

Frug knew that the next group of Orcs was bigger and meaner and he needed to give it his all. He punctuated a tale of bloody vengeance with each shot while inspiring his allies.

He saw one of the toughs go down with a blow. Frug leapt to action. He started uttering words laden with preternatural inspiration, restoring the tough’s stamina and making his wound seem insignificant. The tough got back up and delivered a killing blow to an Orc.

After a few more jinx shots, the caravan had won the battle and the few remaining Orcs ran off into the desert to recover. The caravan celebrated and clasped each other on the backs and Frug was regarded as a hero and a brave warrior. The warrior bard! They called him.

They set up camp at the oasis and buried the dead and were anxious throughout the night in fear of a reprisal attack. No one slept well and Frug tried to instill hope and bravery with his songs without success. The Orcs were in every shadow, but not.

In the morning a raven landed on Haneth’s wagon. It had a note.

“Frug!” Haneth beckoned after reading the note, “It seems that you have friends looking for you. It is said you were part of a mummery group, were you?”

“Yes.” Frug said uncertainly, “I use to travel with a group of entertainers, but we had separated ways long ago.”

“I thought you were from another world and that you were part of a mercenary group.”

“That is also true, but I at one time traveled with a group of bards like me.”

“I don’t like being lied to, especially one who has Orc friends!” and with that Haneth and his toughs drew swords on Frug. Frug wasn’t sure what to say.

“You were trying to befriend me and then rob me of my slaves! You betrayed me, Gnome! Tie him up, men!”

Frug was tied up in chains and was added to the chain of slaves.

“You won’t survive this journey, Frug of Neverwinter Vale.”

Will Frug die, or will his allies rescue him from certain death? Stay tuned next week for more Dungeons & Dragons tales.