D&D Adventures

Welcome, weary travelers and daring adventurers!

You’ve reached the yonder tavern of my website and therefore you must be wanting a flagon of mead and a rip-roaring good story. Perhaps you’ve come seeking advice? No matter. You’ll find both here.

yawning portal main.jpg

If it’s stories you be after, then you can find the latest in my new D&D short story collection detailing the adventures of my latest campaign here:

Portal Fantasy Campaign



It started small at first.

Little discrepancies that went unnoticed. Then they started to notice the more serious oddities.

Previous calm and peaceful people turned aggressive and violent.

Previously dormant volcanoes erupted for no reason.

Tame animals turned wild and blood thirsty.

And storms raged through previously dry and sunny seasons.

There was no way else to put it.

Something was wrong with the universe.

Nobody could put their finger on exactly what was wrong but it was there.

They tried to tell others around them, but their warnings were disregarded, their premonitions went unheeded.

And then…

Then the world came to a stop.


The calm and composed hunter stalked her way through her forest home of Illathymyr, her hunting band in close support. Bow out, arrow notched, she gauged the wind in the blink of an eye. Beyond her, through brush and foliage, silently grazing unaware of the danger waiting only feet away; the deer stood. For the briefest of moments, the conditions began to align. Then something stirred. The deer raised its head, searching for something in the ether. Eyes wide and bright. It held its position gazing outwards, emotions devoid.

Seconds passed.

Heartbeats stirred within Tal’iel, waiting for the beast to settle.

But it doesn’t.

The realisation dawned upon her. The wind—it stopped.

She turned to her compatriots, there forms huddled and motionless in the branches of the surrounding trees and nestled in the immediate undergrowth. Tal’iel attempted to attract their attention but found no response in return. Head darts between deer and her fellow wood elves. Nothing moves. She prepared to leave, to run back to her home and warn her tribe, but she had no time.

The ground beneath her feet opens up, the world torn in two… and then she is gone.


Rough sea spray splashed across the Captain’s face. Steady she commanded her crew through the storm. It was not their first. It would not be their last. Swaying, “The Adventure” listed and rolled across the waves as lightning flashed across dark, grey skies. Another thunderclap and a flash momentarily held the captain’s attention, taking her away from the ship and it’s heaving to focus in on the sudden phenomena around her. The haze of rain held itself in mid-air, refusing to fall. Refusing to obey the laws of gravity that up until that moment the captain had previously taken as reality. But the rain didn’t fall.

And the ship. The ship—pitched at an angle about to fall over the precipice of its current wave, hung precariously balanced and motionless. Kara moved about the ship. Crew held their positions mid-action, pulling in ropes, holding siderails. There was no sounds. No disturbances.

What in the world was happening?

Before Kara could attempt to search out a source of the temporal disturbance, the boards of her ship began to peel open beneath her feet, cracking and snapping into an abyssal void in the place of previously sea soaked decking. Kara didn’t even have time to scream before she was… gone.


The ports of Alvina were busy, bustling, ferrying good and creatures to and from it’s many distant shores. Toorin was ready to leave. He’d made his peace with the decision and finally at the correct dock, his ship out to new adventures lay before him as crew handled goods necessary for the long voyage aboard. He turned. Taking one final look out at the land of his birth. His home. Turning back to the wharf, the clamour of noise had ceased to a still and disturbing silence. Men and women stood frozen in between their actions, birds hung in the sky and flags sagged caught in a non-existent breeze.

Toorin took a step up the gangplank and onto the ship proper. The officer by the stern held a hand to his dragonborn lips, mid-shout but silent and statuesque. Everybody but Toorin stuck in a singular place.

Before the young Aasimar can try to figure the cause, the boards of the ship snap open and swallow him whole.


He donned his armour. Placed every weapon to his belt. Gathered his trusty Warhammer and clutched his holy symbol. A moment of serene solitude before the oncoming slaughter. The arena overseer entered his chambers. The time had come.

Stepping out into the arena floor, the crowd began to cry and cheer. A rich jubilation of their favourite gladiator. The crowd favourite. The forever underdog. They had thrown all manner of horrors at him in the past and he’d survived them. Slain them. Destroyed them.

Another challenger stood awaiting his turn in the coliseum. Their chance at glory. Their moment of fame. Cragwyn knew it would be regrettably brief.

The horn of bloodshed erupted and Cragwyn burst forward. A trained rage rose up within his abandoned spirit. Footstep by charging footstep drew him close to his foe. The crowd noise grew silent as it often did, his world focussed on his target and nothing else. Only the beat of his heart would sound in his ears. A symphony of controlled chaos for him to dance to…

However, his dance partner seemed reluctant to move. They did not take a defense start even though the trumpet had flared. In fact, they did not move at all.

Cragwyn slowed his heart. Softened his anger. It wasn’t just his opponent. The crowd noise hadn’t faded due to his sharpened senses… the crowd was still and quiet. A usually jubilant and emphatic wave of the sickening creatures that watch him kill for sport, they stood like trees in winter. Trees he’d not seen in many years. Rooted and hollow.

This was his chance.

He could escape.

As his eyes search for a route of freedom, the sound of sand, sucking down beneath his feet began to rise up and take him over. Before his mind could comprehend what was happening, the arena floor had already claimed him.


The heat of the jungle intensified as the young Lizardfolk ran with every fibre of his being. The snakefolk took every opportunity to kill his kind and he refused to die that day. Before the green of the undergrowth presented only the barest amount of sight as behind every leaf, every tree trunk another of those beast may have awaited. He dashed through them like a creature possessed.

The landscape offered little in the way of hiding spots for Sunwalker, so when the old fallen trunk, hollowed out and cavernous, presented itself he took the opportunity with open arms. Crawling into the space, he prayed to the forces of nature and began to think of which spell he could incant should the beasts find him trapped within. There footsteps had always been only a few desperate feet behind him as he’d ran, but now, the sound of pursuers was surprisingly mute.

Why hadn’t they found him yet?

Where had they gone?

The young Sunwalker was left wondering as his world was filled with the sounds of bark snapping and then the tree trunk collapsed, falling inside itself, taking Sunwalker with it.

Chapter 1 – The Fate of Fates


Chapter 2 – Through sickness and in Health


If you come seeking wisdom on some home-crafted Dungeon master maps or dioramas and seek to do the same for your parties, then look no further then:


Dungeon DIY.jpg