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It’s a beautiful day in Whiskerford, a small fishing village straddling the Azuremist River. Bright sunlight filters down through the greenery of the surrounding forest. As midday arrives, so do five travelers. All are strangers to each other, having come here each for their own reasons, but fate dictates that their paths now converge in this idyllic locale.
“And by fate, you mean you?” Ed says. “You’re like, basically God, right?”
Al smiles sweetly and adjusts the screen hiding his notes. “The dice are God, Brother. I’m just here to interpret their decisions.” He turns to address the assembled group. Besides Ed, that’s: Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye, Maes Hughes, and Winry Rockbell, in various states of eagerness and nerves. “Why don’t you each describe yourselves?” When nobody volunteers, he prompts, “Winry?”
“Sure.” Winry clears her throat.
The first thing you all notice about Zakka is that she’s a half-orc. She’s probably about six feet tall, green skin, looks like she works out. Her hair’s in a ponytail and she’s wearing loose-fitting clothes. Cute, but practical. Her hands are wrapped with tape, like she’s ready to punch some people. Oh, and she’s barefoot. She looks friendly, but, like, if anyone tried to start shit with her, she’d be ready to GO.
“Cool!” Ed says. “Melee squad is gonna kick ass. Anyone else with us?”
“I am!” Hughes says, perking up. “Shall I go next?”
“Sure,” Al agrees. “We can just go around the table, counterclockwise.”
“All right.” Hughes looks like he’s getting ready for an audition. He closes his eyes, takes a breath, then puts on a deep, dramatic voice.
My name is Tobineros, but you can call me Toby. I’m a half-elf bard hailing from the kingdom of Lyssaria. I have sworn to travel the realms singing tales of the beauty and kindness of its monarch, the lovely Queen Gracia, and of the noble destiny of her adorable daughter, the Princess Elicia. Blessed with celestial blood through her mother’s line, it is prophecised that the princess will one day unite all the lands of the world into a utopia that—
Mustang makes an exasperated noise, and Hughes narrows his eyes.
“Why don’t you tell everyone about the first impression their characters would have of you?” Al hurries to suggest.
Hmph. Fine. You see a swashbuckling scoundrel with a sword on his hip and a twinkle in his eye. A charming rogue at first glance, but on second, you see something deeper in his face, something that speaks of a heart left far away. He notices you looking, and gives you a saucy wink.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Ed says, “but he’d better miss my character with the flirting if he likes not being on fire.”
Toby already burns – with passion, the idle flirting just a smokescreen to hide his love. His love for a regal, wise, gentle woman, a love he dare not admit, for one of his station is unworthy to even think of a woman like her in such a way…
He looks ready to continue, so Al hastily says, “Good, nice, plenty of backstory! All right, let’s move on to our ranger.” He offers an encouraging smile across the table at Hawkeye, who looks uncharacteristically nervous.
All right. Um, my name is Shava Galanodel. I’m a wood elf. I’m level five. That is, we all probably are. Oh! I have a pet wolf, named Hayate. I grew up wandering in the woods, hunting for food with my bow. Let’s see. Oh, I’m ‘driven by wanderlust’ and ‘feel more comfortable around animals than people’. And I’m chaotic neutral.
“Hell yeah, chaotic neutral!” Ed holds out his hand for a fist-bump. Hawkeye smiles and bumps her knuckles against his.
“That’s all,” she tells Mustang, who’s seated to her right. He nods.
The first thing you notice about Ray is that he—
“Hold up,” Ed says. “Ray? Are you serious?”
The first thing you notice about RAY, who has a perfectly reasonable name, is his sculpted abs. Then you see the falcon’s head, fire-colored wings, and ruby scales scattered down his bare back and realize you’re looking on a mortal with traces of the divine.
“What the fuck are you?” Ed says.
“They’re called aarakocra,” Roy says smugly. “But Ray has an ancestor who was a red dragon, which is why he looks like a sun god.”
“All right, so you’re basically spicy chicken wings.”
“Sounds like someone’s jealous he can’t rain down fire from a hundred feet in the air—”
“Sounds like someone’s a pussy-ass – I mean, weenie-ass, sorry Winry – weenie-ass little baby who’s too scared to come in melee—”
“Sounds like we’ve got a balanced team composition!” Al interjects brightly. “Brother, why don’t you tell us about your character?”
Ed snorts.
Fine. So, I’m like a demon minotaur, but part cyborg. My eyes glow red and I have metal horns—
“What the fuck am I?” Roy demands. “What the fuck are you?”
“I told you,” Ed growls, “a demon minotaur, but part cyborg.”
“Mechanically, he’s a tiefling,” Al offers.
Whatever. Anyway, my name is Crimson Judgement, because I – shut the fuck up, Mustang, stop laughing, your name is RAY – hunt down evil demons and kill them. I’m like eight feet tall, and I wear red and black plate armor with spikes, and I have a red iron axe that has a demon skull on the spike at the top. And it’s always burning, with black fire, because I sold my soul to the dark powers of the Shadowfell in exchange for the power to kill more demons.
“All right!” says Al, clapping his hands together. “Everyone ready to get started? Good. So, you arrive in town just before noon.”
No sooner have the adventurers crossed the threshold of Whiskerford than they notice a commotion. The inhabitants of Whiskerford – short, furred, with feline faces – are hurrying to and fro, making sounds of worry.
“So they’re cat-people?” Shava wonders. “Is that normal? Is that something I’ve seen before?”
“Roll a History check,” Al says.
“That’s the twenty-sided die,” Winry says, leaning across Hughes to point to it. “And then you add your History bonus to it.”
Hawkeye rolls. “Fourteen. And my History bonus is… plus three. So it’s seventeen?”
Al nods. “That’s very good. Yes, you’ve heard of cat people before.”
Shava recalls hearing about a race called the tabaxi. They were taller, from what she heard – around human height. The villagers here are about three feet tall on average. But she’s not surprised to see cat-people. That seems to be normal for Whiskerford.
“Hail, good townspeople!” Tobineros cries. “What troubles you?”
A few of the villagers stop, taking in the new arrivals for the first time. They seem a bit wary of Hayate, but one of them steps forward.
“It’s our mayor,” she says. “He ran up a tree, and he can’t get down again!”
“Are you for real,” says Crimson Justice. “If he climbed up, why can’t he just climb down?”
The villagers stare at him like he’s grown an extra head, and he sighs.
“Why don’t you show us where he is?” Zakka suggests. “Maybe we can help.”
The villagers obligingly lead them through town to the far edge, where the very fluffy, white-furred mayor is clinging to a branch about twenty feet above the ground. Beneath the tree, several villagers are hurrying back and forth, moving pillows around and looking panicked.
“I have fifty feet of hempen rope,” Shava offers. “Maybe Ray could fly up and tie it to the tree?”
“Or I could push him,” Ray suggests. “Aren’t cats supposed to always land on their feet?”
“He probably has like three hit points. That could kill him,” Zakka points out. “I like Shava’s suggestion. I can stand below and try to catch him if he falls off the rope.”
“Fine.” Ray takes the rope in one scaled hand and flies up to tie it to the branch. “There, you can come down now.”
The mayor shakes his head, still clinging to the tree. He’s obviously too scared to move.
“Okay,” Ray says. “I tried it your way. I’m going to push him.”
Crimson Justice points his axe and casts Earthbind on Ray.
“That didn’t take long,” Al mutters. “Ray, make a Strength saving throw.”
“Nineteen,” Roy says smugly. “Plus one. Twenty.”
Yellow bands of energy loop around Ray, trying to pull him out of the air, but he resists them. The spell has no effect.
“That’s bullshit!” Crimson Justice rages. “Okay, asshole, let’s see you dodge this—”
“Let’s all calm down!” Toby urges. “I have another idea. I’m going to inspire the mayor with courage, and try to convince him to come down. I’ll sing him a song about Princess Elicia.”
“All right, roll a Persuasion check.”
“No problem,” Hughes brags. “I have plus nine in Persuasion.” He picks up the die and rolls. Everyone at the table watches it land on 1.
The mayor doesn’t seem to like the song. As a matter of fact, he seems offended by it.
“What? How dare he! I’M offended by his insult to the Princess Elicia. Ray, push him.”
Ray pushes the mayor out of the tree.
Zakka curses and dives to catch him.
“Roll Acrobatics.”
“Ugh, nine. Oh, but my bonus is good! Sixteen.”
Zakka manages to get below the mayor just in time, and he drops into her muscled arms. She falls to her knees, but lands on one of the pillows. She and the mayor are both unhurt.
A cheer goes up among the team, and the townspeople as well.
Shava shoots a very disappointed glare at Ray and Toby, then turns to offer the mayor a hand up.
“Oh, oh thank you,” the mayor says to her. “Oh, goodness, I’m all discombobulated and aflutter. That’s the second time today I thought I was done for!”
“Second?” Shava asks. “Did something else happen?”
The major nods vigorously. “That’s why I was up in the tree in the first place. Chased up it! By a monster! A horrid beast!”
“What kind of beast?” Crimson Justice asks, coming over to join the conversation.
“I didn’t get a good look at it,” the mayor says. “But I know what it was. The Sleeping Horror!”
There are murmurs and fearful nods of assent from the nearby villagers.
“Not far from our village,” the mayor tells them, “lies a magical grove. Catnip is said to grow there year-round. Legends tell of a secret treasure, guarded by a unicorn, waiting for the pure of heart. But lo! The path is fraught with danger, for the grove can only be reached through a dark cave. A cave in which a horror sleeps, waiting to be awoken… the Sleeping Horror!”
“And you think it’s woken up?” Toby asks. He still seems mistrustful of the mayor, but he’s interested in the story.
“Indeed.” The mayor side-eyes him right back, but elaborates, “A week past, a group of adventuerers – much like yourselves – passed through town, determined to seek out the grove and its treasure. We have not heard from them since, but strange sounds have been heard in the forest at night, and our scouts have reported disturbing finds of animal remains in the direction of the cave. The fools must have awoken the Sleeping Horror, and now we are all doomed!”
“Not so fast,” says Crimson Judgement. “We’ll go check out this cave, see what’s going on. Maybe we can find these adventurers, or ask the unicorn in the meadow or something.”
“You would do this?” The mayor’s eyes are enourmous. “Investigate the beast, and confirm the safety of the sacred grove? You would do this for us?”
“Uh, sure, yeah.” Crimson Judgement looks a little awkward. “No big deal, man.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Zakka says. “Is there anything else we should know about this cave?”
The mayor shakes his head. “Nothing, save that none of us in Whiskerford ventures into it, for it is a cursed, dark place.”
“I’m not afraid,” says Ray. “Let’s go.”
The group doesn’t have to travel far to find the cave. The entrance looms up out of a rocky cliff, the way forward disappearing up into the hillside.
Almost as soon as they enter, our heroes find themselves in a deep, gloomy darkness.
“Who has darkvision?” Al asks. Ed, Winry, Hughes, and Hawkeye raise their hands.
Mustang looks around. “Really?”
“Wait, I thought you were, like, sun-themed,” Ed says. “Are you telling me you’re the only one who can’t see in the dark? We have to carry a light just for your weak-ass bird eyes? Say goodbye to stealth, I guess.”
“Oh, like you’d be capable of stealth anyway,” Roy says. “Aren’t you wearing plate armor? You probably sound like a bag of tin cans.”
“I can help with that,” Hawkeye says. “I have a spell called…” She squints at her sheet. “‘Pass Without Trace’. I think it’s for sneaking around?”
“Oh, yeah, that one’s great,” Winry agrees. “Maybe someone can lead Ray so we don’t need a light?”
“I’ll do it,” Toby volunteers.
Ray doesn’t look happy about it, but he reluctantly puts a hand on Toby’s shoulder.
Shava mutters the words of the spell, throwing a pinch of ash into the air and making a hand gesture. The ash appears to spread out into a cloud of shadow, which settles over her and her companions.
“All right, everybody roll Stealth,” Al says. “Ed, you have disadvantage because of your armor, so roll twice and take the lower one. Ray, you too, because you can’t see. And everyone can add ten to their final roll, because of Shava’s spell.”
“Thirty,” Winry says. “Hell yeah. Shava, you’re the best.”
“Twelve – no, twenty-two,” Hughes says.
Hawkeye’s die lands on 3, and she winces.
“You have a good bonus, though,” Mustang points out.
“Plus six… so nine.”
“Don’t forget your spell,” Al reminds her. “So it’s actually a nineteen.”
“And I’m twenty,” Ed says, sticking his tongue out at Mustang.
Mustang rolls his own and grumbles. “Sixteen.”
“Not bad,” Al says.
Most of the party manages to be discreet, with some help from Shava’s spell. Zakka basically just disappears from existence.
After a few minutes of walking, the adventurers enter a larger cavern. This one has some light spilling in from a crack in the ceiling, though it’s blue-tinged and hazy. The light illuminates rows upon rows of what look like tombs, making the cave into a vast crypt. On the far side, a stone staircase continues upwards.
“Should we keep going?” Shava whispers.
Crimson Judgement shakes his head. “No, what if there’s clues about the monster?”
“Or treasure,” Ray suggests.
“Yeah,” Zakka says in a whisper of her own, “‘cause graverobbing always ends well.”
“I’m inclined to agree with Zakka,” Toby puts in. “So it looks like you’re the deciding vote, Shava.”
Shava considers for a long moment. “If there is something bad here, I don’t like the idea of it sneaking up behind us. I think we should deal with it now.”
“Fair enough,” Hughes agrees. “In that case, I’ll go take a look at one of the sarcophagi.”
“What’s your passive Perception?” Al asks.
Hughes looks concerned. “Fourteen. Why?”
Al smiles sweetly. “No reason. You can roll Investigation to examine the sarcophagus now.”
“…Fifteen.”
Toby is just able to make out an inscription. In Elvish, it says, ‘Blessed are those who forfeit their eternal rest that the Beast’s may be unbroken.’
“Huh,” he says. “Wonder what that means.”
As if in answer to his question, a rune lights up beneath his foot where he’s just placed it down. Lines of magic snake across the floor to the sarcophagi, which all begin to open.
“Shit.” Ray flies up into the air right away.
Shava runs partway up the staircase to get a vantage point with her bow.
One by one, skeletons start climbing out of their stone tombs.
“Roll for initiative,” Al says.
Dice clatter all around the table, and Al carefully records each score on a piece of notepaper. Once he’s done, he pulls out a large, gridded map and spreads it on the table, placing figurines for the players on it and then surrounding them with skeletons.
“All right,” he says. “Ray, you had the highest roll, so you’re up first.”
The next hour of play covers approximately thirty seconds of combat.
Crimson Judgement carves skeleton after skeleton apart with his battleaxe.
Zakka sees a skeleton loose an arrow at her and kicks it out of the air.
Shava sends arrow after arrow of her own into the mob as Hayate crushes decaying bones with his teeth.
Ray flies high above the melee, sending blasts of fire at their undead foes.
And through it all, Toby sings about his queen and princess, not pausing even as he wades into the melee with his sword.
Soon, only our heroes are left in the room, panting and tending to their wounds. Toby in particular was hit several times by the skeletons, and Zakka’s hair is still smoldering.
“Hey Ray,” Crimson Justice calls casually. “Why don’t you fly on down here?”
“There’s no need to blow this out of proportion,” says Ray, still flying near the roof of the cavern. “You both made the saving throw. And you even have your whole demon-y fire resistance. Don’t be a baby.”
“No, seriously. Come on down. I just want to talk to you.”
“I killed eight skeletons with that fireball. Eight. That’s practically half of them. Zakka understands, right?”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Winry says. “It was only, like, a third of my health. With a successful save.”
She meets Ed’s eyes across the table and mouths, chicken nuggets. Ed nods back grimly.
“We should take a short rest,” Toby suggets. “I can sing a song of rest to heal everyone.”
“That’s a great idea,” Crimson Justice agrees. “I can cast Earthbind again after a short rest. It has a range of three hundred feet.”
“I don’t need a rest,” Ray says. “I didn’t take any damage. I’ll just go scout ahead.”
“I don’t know if splitting up is a good idea,” Shava says.
“I won’t go far,” Ray promises, flying for the tunnel at the top of the stairs.
“When I’m telling the story of how our whole party died,” Winry notes grimly, “this is the part I’m starting with.”
Five minutes of argument later, the party follows Ray instead of taking a rest.
They catch up to him quickly, at the darkest part of the tunnel. The light from the crypt no longer reaches them, but a faint light from up ahead barely illuminates the stone passageway. It looks like daylight. As they make their way closer, they see an end to the tunnel surrounded by rich, vibrant green.
“The grove with the unicorn!” Toby says. “Do you think that’s it?”
“We never found the other adventurers, or the monster,” Shava says.
As they emerge into the lush clearing and bright sunlight, they find both.
The unrecognizable bodies of what they can only assume are the other adventurers are scattered around, half-eaten and starting to decay. And standing by the edge of a crystal-clear pond, mane glittering in the sunlight, is a beautiful creature with pure white fur. A golden horn gleams on its head. And, as the heroes watch, it opens a delicate mouth to reveal bloodstained, razor-sharp teeth, and takes another bite out of the corpse at its feet, chewing sloppily as soulful, liquid eyes survey five potential new meals.
“Ew, what the fuck,” says Ray.
“Kill it with fire,” says Crimson Judgement.
“Roll initiative,” says Al.
A bloody fight to the death ensues. But when Zakka’s fist finally puts an end to the Sleeping Horror, there is no celebration – for one of their party lies broken and bleeding on the ground.
“Shit, who has a healing spell?” Ray demands.
“He does,” says Zakka, gesturing to their ailing ally with the hand not putting pressure on a gushing wound. “He is literally the only one in the party with healing spells.”
“I’m so sorry.” Shava’s hands are over her mouth.
Hughes puts a hand on Hawkeye’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”
“Alphonse said my attempt to stabilize you was so bad that it counted as two death points.”
Hughes winces. “Everyone rolls natural ones sometimes. Look, if Toby has to go out protecting his friends, that’s what happens.” He looks to Al.
“Roll a death saving throw,” Al says solemnly. “You have two failures, so if you roll below ten…”
Hughes nods. “I die.”
Everyone at the table watches as he picks up his die.
The clack as it hits the table echoes around the room, and everyone leans forward to see it.
Hughes snaps his fingers. “Lucky number thirteen. Still alive!”
“Crimson Justice is up next,” Al says. “You can try to stabilize him.”
“My Medicine skill is plus zero!” Ed panics. “And if we fail this one, we’ll kill him!”
Al looks to Mustang, who just shakes his head, looking grim. “Mine is negative three.”
“You’re up next, right?” Winry asks Hawkeye. “Do you want to try again? Last time was just bad luck.” But Hawkeye is frozen, eyeing her dice like they might bite her.
Winry takes a deep breath.
“I’ll try,” she says. “My Medicine skill is the same as Shava’s. Toby, my two hit points and I are gonna save you if it’s the last thing I do.”
She picks up her die.
There’s another collective indraw of breath.
“Fifteen!” Winry crows. “Plus three! Eighteen!”
“He’s stable!” Al announces as the players leap to their feet, cheering. “He’s out of danger, and he’ll wake up in a few hours. Congratulations! You’ve vanquished the Sleeping Horror and saved Whiskerford!”
“What about the treasure in the grove?” Ed asks him. “The cat-mayor promised us treasure!”
Al looks him in the eyes and smiles innocently.
“You already have it, Brother. The real treasure—”
Ed’s eyes light up in betrayed understanding, and there’s already a pillow flying at Al’s face as he finishes,
“—was the friends you made along the way!”