Ficlets

Urkral, Dwarven Guardian of the Lands of Whurduum, climbs into position on the razor sharp crag. His breathing slows as he waits for his prey. His fingers tighten on the leather grip of his zweihammer. Urkral lunges off the cliff towards the hobgoblin lieutenant.

“Cry havoc and let loose the dogs…”

“Dude, do you have to say that everytime you jump into battle”

“Uh, yeah. Character sheet, page 2, under quirks. It says it right here after Drinks only Dwarven Ale.“

“Whatever, just roll”

With a sound of thunder, Urkral’s hammer crushes the hobgoblin’s skull. Goblins fall as Urkral wades into the horde.

“Crap…double crap. I rolled a 1 followed by a 1”

“Ouch, Critical failure. Roll a d12 to see what happens”

With a resounding CRACK , Urkral crumbles as his hammer breaks his right leg. He reaches into his pouch for the healing potion, only to realize the Halfling thief has gone through his stuff again.

The Halfling yells from the crag above “page 2, quirks… Steals from Dwarf.”