D&D Horror Chronicles: Tales of Terror

D&D Horror Chronicles: The Bloodied Skeleton

In a dimly lit tavern, the rhythmic clinking of mugs filled the air. The barkeep set a frothy drink before you and swiftly moved on to attend the next patron. Beside you sat an older man with twinkling eyes, who introduced himself as a gatherer of tales, a bard of sorts. He had been nudging you for the past hour, his voice dripping with eagerness, wanting to delve into the depths of your adventures.

"Share your tales with me, stranger. I'm willing to pay good coin for them," he urged.

Raising an eyebrow, you inquired, "How much are we talking?"

"15 per story," he replied confidently.

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "40."

"40?! That's preposterous!"

"40 per. No less."

"20"

"45"

"You can't ju-. Fine, we'll go 40"

"Nope, 45 now."

"I just agr-"

"50"

The old man sighed exasperatedly, "Alright, alright. 50 it is! But your tale better be worth it."

"And a drink on top," you added with a sly smile, reveling in the game of barter.

He groaned but finally nodded in agreement. "Fine, but I expect tales worth the price."

Settling comfortably in your seat, you began. "Well I guess I'll give you the beginning. It all happened so quick. I was just a kid, enjoying the simplicity of life. If it weren't that damn creature then maybe I still could've had that type of life."

10 years ago

In a secluded village named Ravenshroud, nestled deep within the forest, a darkness lingered. The villagers knew of the legends spoken in hushed whispers; tales of a giant creature that prowled the shadows, hungry for flesh and fearful souls.

"Didn't I warn you two about those woods?" Your mother's voice trembled between anger and fear. Mikey, your twin, stood defiantly beside you, seething at his missed chance to prove the local bullies wrong. They'd taunted him, calling him a "cowardly halfling", challenging him to venture into the woods. But, fate intervened. The village blacksmith, on one of his rare strolls, halted Mikey just in time. Rumors of a creature dwelling within the forest's embrace circulated amongst the villagers. Descriptions varied — some spoke of a vast silhouette with piercing red eyes, while others whispered of a malevolent shapeshifter that assumed the likeness of its prey before claiming them. You, however, hoped it was merely a wild animal, perhaps even an owlbear; the idea was oddly thrilling. But even then, those people that didn't return probably ran off or something, it was a rather common thing to happen around here. 

Your mother's voice broke through your thoughts, "Promise me, promise you won't tempt fate in those woods again." Both you and Mikey met your mother's gaze, nodding in silent assurance. She knelt to your height, drawing you into a tender embrace, her voice a delicate whisper, "I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you both." As she pulled back, her fingers produced some coins, pressing them into your hands. "Get yourselves something delightful," she instructed, playfully nudging you towards the door. "And make sure to return before the skies darken."

Outside, the sun held its place high above, casting warm, golden rays that bathed the village. Ravenshroud was of moderate size, teeming with villagers who busily moved about, trading and conversing animatedly in the bustling market.

Mikey grumbled beside you, "This is so unfair."

Puzzled, you asked, "What's bothering you?"

He tugged at his pointed ears, a blend of elf and human heritage. "I was this close, you know? Just this close to proving myself to those jerks." Being a half-elf was unique in its own right, but living in a village predominantly occupied by tieflings posed its own set of challenges. While the adult folk seemed indifferent to your mixed lineage, the same couldn't be said for the children, who never missed an opportunity to remind you of your differences.