Memoirs of a Teifling: The Life and Times of Delphinius Neptunio (excerpt 3.a)
Part III

My Life as an Adventurer


It was a sad day. My very good friend Valeria had passed. I stood by her body near the alter in front of a fairly large crowd in the temple of Helm. Funny, Valeria was the only person who could ever get me in one of these places.
Anyway, there I was in my traveling cloak, the one I wore when I wanted to hide my identity. Beside me there was a priest, a tortle, a snake man, and a goth. I assure you this is not the start of some bad joke. The others (save the priest) each gave a touching eulogy for Valeria. Seems she had affected a great number of lives besides my own.
It was my turn. Feeling a bit choked up, I put on a bit of a show to keep myself from breaking down. The crowd gasped as I threw off my cloak with a puff of smoke and a shower of sparks. Thanks be to Erevan for my acting skills (See Part 1: The Early Years, Chapter 3) or I may not have made it through this.

As the crowd filed out and I prepared to leave, the 4 of us were cornered by Romalia, an Elven member of the Harpers, and a masked woman named Syndra Sylvane. They offered us a room in the temple for the night, which I accepted since it was surprisingly up to my standards of living. But of course, there was a catch. There’s always a catch. Romalia had an insane plan to make a deal with a lich, trying to get information on this death plague going around. This is way beyond my skill set so I waited for a good moment to sneak away.
Damn my sentimental side. Of course they leverage Valeria’s tragic passing. Begrudgingly I accepted. I wouldn’t actually have to deal with this lich, just infiltrate her cellar and retrieve a dusty old book. How hard can that be?

After 3 days on a boat with my new ‘friends’, we arrived at some cliffs with a magic door. Upon entering, we are set upon by a group of skeletons! The tortle, Pogwe was his name, offered his protection as I am a rather frail man, despite how I present myself on stage and to my adoring public. I am no trained combatant, so I use the only skill set I have: Acting!
The role: a dashing magician. Hurling insults and stage effects to distract the enemies proved to be a surprisingly effective tactic. The skeletons were quickly brought down, but they were far from the worst this ‘Cellar of Death’ had to offer.

Searching for the book, we stumbled upon all manner of stench, horror, and filth that man was not meant to experience. Traps and foul living dead attacked us at every turn. As a team, we were able to overcome most of the challenges we faced, save for one: a vicious ghost almost killed the snake man (Ishketh he calls himself) with a ghastly touch. My wit and tricks did not avail me so I leapt into action, and before I knew it, I had used my stage medic training to get Ish back up on his feat while the goth man Revekeus pelted the spectre with magic crossbow bolts found in one of the cellar traps.

Upon defeating the ghost, we recovered the old tomb and were promptly teleported out of this dungeon, thank the gods. Teleported we were, not to the ship, but to a forest grove where Romalia and her troops had all but lost the battle against The Duchess of Rot, Xaldera Cordriss. It was the lich! She wanted her book back. I didn’t need it so I offered it up for information about this death plague. Some artifact or being or… I don’t know what, called the Soul Monger was on the jungle isle of Chult. I thanked the lich, gave her the book, and we were free.

I exhaled a sigh of relief. It was over. “We’ve done what you asked,” I said, “And since I know you have this sort of magic at your disposal, please teleport me back to Baldur’s Gate. I have a curtain call tomorrow eve.” But my errand was not yet complete. Syndra Sylvane removed her mask to show us the horrors of the death curse and pleaded with us to go to Chult to investigate further, offering us riches if we could put an end to this curse.
My companions agreed without a second thought. I hesitated. I had an audience to get back to. Someone had to give them respite from their weary lives, living in fear of this death curse.

However. Something stirred in me that I had not expected. The thrill of surviving such horrors was something I had never experienced. It rivaled, perhaps even exceeded, the thrill of opening night with a packed house. The promise of riches didn’t hurt either. Like this magic gem we found. It had the ability to shine light on command and even blind those who would do us harm.

And if I survived, imagine the audience who would come from all over the realms to see me recount “My Life as an Adventurer.”
Session: Cellar of Death - Friday, Nov 03 2017 from 9:30 PM to 1:30 AM
Viewable by: Public
Epic × 3!


Bravo, brav-O! Love it. I love the narrative style and the weaving of the non-combative skills into the adventure tale.
I love the reference to other chapters of the memoirs!
glad you guys liked it. was fun to write. I considered doing it as a stage play, but felt this was better for a narrative perspective.
The reviews are in: 2 thumbs up!!!