Myzryn and Grunk
A series of novelized game reports!
Welcome to Myzryn and Grunk! This story is produced as a result of a solo game I play. For game mechanics I mainly use my favorite d20 roll-low system, and for oracles I use Recluse and a set of Player Simulator rules to see how our two adventurers react to certain things. With that out of the way, let’s get a brief introduction from our heroes!
Ahem. Greetings, fellow traveler! My name is Myzryn, the Magician. I happen to be a dark elf. Well, only half. My mother was a human… The magical arts come quite easy to me, but I naturally have a proclivity towards spells that most would consider – unethical. Due to this, it is my goal to expand my horizons in the matters of the arcane. When it comes to conflict I prefer to use my speech and diplomatic ability rather than my magics, but as we know there are some forces that you simply cannot reason with.
I am Grunk Mossrock. I am a human, raised among orcs. The stories tell us that my fathers were travelers from far away with no home. When they found their way to Mossrock tribe, the orcs tried to kill them all. The humans were stronger than they thought. Brave, tricky, and cunning, the orcs were surprised. We were allowed safe haven in Mossrock tribe. But, I, Grunk, decided to leave. I wanted to know my own story. With my mighty axe, I will cut down any foe, and make my tribe and my ancestors proud!
And so, we begin!
Myzryn and Grunk leave the forest city of Calesperia, hunting after a rumored “Amulet of Lightning”. An old wizard named Onindor supposedly keeps the amulet with him in his tower, and perhaps upon seeing Myzryn’s heart to sharpen his skills and expand his magics, the wizard will grant it to him.
The two trot through the deep Calesperian forest on their horses, when suddenly the mounts neigh and buckle. They refuse to move much further. As the fighter and mage dismount, Myzryn is struck from behind. Grunk, with his keen savage senses, spots the creature in the dim forest light. It has the shape of a scraggly human, twisted out of a tree. Grunk wastes no time and swings his axe with a roar! The monster slips away, stepping back into the deep brush and disappearing.
“GRAAAAGH!” Grunk bellows, agitated. He calls out into the dark of the woods, “Fight me, coward!”
On the ground, Myzryn can feel his flesh painfully twisting into something stiff. He picks himself up, groaning. “Great stars, what was that?”
Grunk spits. “Some wretched tree creature.” He steels his gaze, looking for the thing. Motion is heard from behind, and Grunk brings his axe down, splitting a rotting log. “Stop playing with me!”
Myzryn and Grunk stand back to back, stepping slowly in a circle on the faint dirt road. The tree thing lunges from the dark, striking Myzryn once more. The mage is knocked to the ground, his robe now shredded. The magician screams in pain, and Grunk can now see the horrid wound Myzyrn’s clothing concealed. Like creeping brown vines, his friend’s ash-gray flesh twists into wood. Not one to run from a battle, but valuing his ally more than his pride, Grunk hefts Myzryn onto his shoulder and leaps onto his horse, fleeing. Grunk curses the monster as he spurs his steed even faster. “Hold on, Myz.” Grunk turns slightly to see his friend gripping to his back, breath ragged.
After hours of riding, Grunk finds that the forest begins to thin. Less and less trees dot the land as he gallops forth. Soon, a fair and green grassland fills his view, shimmering and swaying in the wind. The fighter allows himself to breathe in the free and flowing breeze, and spots some houses and huts a short ways off. Grunk has his horse carry forth towards what he hopes to be a normal village.
Riding up to some women tending a patch of crops, Grunk wastes no words. “My friend is wounded. I will pay for a healer.”
The woman looks Grunk up and down before motioning for him to go. “At the center of the village, ask for Tarem, the shrine-keeper. Pyros be with you.”
Grunk nods, having the horse trot along into the village. Finding a suitable tree, the fighter hops to the ground and picks his friend up off the horse, smacking him lightly in the face. “Wake up, Myz. I found a village. They say there is a healer.”
Myzryn whimpers. “Guhh… I feel ever so stiff.”
“The tree thing was turning you to wood.”
“Ow. Huh, that explains some things.” Myzryn closes his eyes. “Truth be told, dear friend, I am in indescribable anguish.”
Grunk nods, laughing shortly. “Quit whining.” Grunk secures the horse to the nearby tree and carries Myzryn carefully to the center of the village.