D&D fan fiction – like the game itself – tends to focus on heroes and villains. But what about the less prominent characters, or even the creatures brought magically to life – often for a few fleeting seconds?
The following story explores these questions, inspired by chapter 112 of our Small Embers campaign.
It was written by Lou Lyz – who also wrote a moving tale about Jenny the War Camel. We thank Lou for writing this, and we hope you enjoy it.
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*Pop*
The newcomer loitered anxiously where he’d mysteriously sprung into existence. It was an odd place, both real and not quite, much like himself he supposed. The place and the beings in it were suggestions, possibilities, not quite having realised themselves yet.
“New here, mate?”
Dark, dingy and hazy with smoke, the space seemed oddly restrictive and yet enormous. The edges and shadows within stretched off into eternity; the walls never quite to be found but always somehow there. Around various tables, indistinct forms moved, sometimes leaning over and striking various coloured balls with a satisfying click. The words that sprang to mind were “snooker hall”, but he didn’t know why.
“Aye, it’s a bit weird here first time. Grab yourself a drink and settle in. If you’re lucky, you won’t get called. Some of us haven’t been called in ages. The more you’re called, the more you’ll coalesce but…”
*Pop*
The newcomer winked out of the space like he’d never been.
“Bugger. Poor sod.”
The bartender, wearing the semi-translucent form of a massive hyena, leaned forward: “He gone already? That’s harsh, Keith.”
“You’re telling me.” The sort-of rat-shaped greeter hopped back onto a bar stool and wrapped his dextrous fingers around a half-drunk pint. He lifted it to his snout, deftly navigating his lengthy incisors. “What was your first time, Nora?”
“Oooh, that was a fair time ago. I think it was a demon. Did alright though, all things considered.”
“Killed you though?”
“Of course it fucking killed me, Keith. That’s kind of the point. We die so they don’t have to, and nothing else does either. Could you imagine what’d happen with proper flesh and blood? If something had to actually die.” Nora shuddered, her ghostly mane standing on end, “Doesn’t bear thinking about.”
Keith sipped his pint thoughtfully. “At least you get to have a decent scrap every now and then. I just get thrown down trapped corridors, or have to distract massive beasts or…”
“Aye, your form’s a pisser and no mistake. Thought about starting again?”
“Don’t, Nora. Go back to the beginning, go through all that and more likely than not end up a rat again? Not bloody likely. I’m firm enough. Hopefully I’ll get a position as a familiar soon. See a bit more of the world.”
“You’ll still be a rat, Keith,” said a new voice. “Just it’ll be one sadistic prick chucking you down chimneys and using you as bait rather than the luck of the draw. Shit deal, this. Teaching them that life is cheap, especially if it don’t look like them.”
Nora looked over at the speaker, a large bird-shaped creature smoking a cigarette.
“Give it a rest, Clive. We know the gods haven’t been kind to you, but Keith might be alright. He’s a good guy, is Keith.”
*Pop*
Clive’s perfectly aimed shot went awry, his cue tearing the felt surface, as an animal scream shattered the peace, drowning out the gentle music and murmured conversations. The newcomer appeared right back in the spot he’d so recently vacated. Nora cocked her head at Keith, encouraging him to get back to his welcome as she poured a fresh drink.
“Bad one, was it, pal? What happened?”
The newcomer, his form having gained a slightly more distinct outline, was trembling, what passed for hands raised in front of his face. “D… dragon. They… they threw me straight down its throat!”
A room full of snouts, beaks and maws all drew in a sharp, sympathetic hiss of breath. Nora poured something strong into a small glass and dropped it into the larger one with a satisfying “bloop”.
“Oh mate…” Keith clapped him on his simian shoulder and gently guided him to the bar. “Better luck next time, eh?”
Maurice the baboon stared at Keith with wide-eyed horror. “Next time?”
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Thanks again to Lou Lyz for writing this story. For more fan fiction, to chat about the show and to meet some friendly people, join our Discord community: the DiceCord.
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