Last year, about this time, I was approached at work by a group of kids who found out I was a long time Player and Dungeon Master- They asked me to run a game and teach them how to play. The group of four had one experienced player- the others had seen it at a glance.

I considered this for some time and decided to go for it. We got together one night after work and wrote characters- I'm a bit of a stickler for 1st level campaigns and prefer my games start at the bottom.. I spent a week considering how to start the campaign. When we reconvened I decided to start with a bang- used military/mercenary enlistment to put them together and then merc'd the battalion with a red dragon- At this point I am working off the cuff 100% and had not ironed out a single detail about the larger campaign.

What follows is the beginning of a story- written from the viewpoint of a NPC bard I placed in their company in the first few games. The games that inspired it took place of a period of 3 months and it's only about half done (please forgive).

On a road east of Tethyr- I met Bartholomew, the poorly named. In our musings his band told a tale- though words they did not speak. Luckily are we- Rentveil is one to seek. –Oh calm yourself you daft buffoon, it was meant to be dramatic- Fine! You tell it then…

[[[(A calm, awkward manner overtakes Crim. His movements become less graceful, and his lute strikes a constant dissonant chord. The space surrounding him darkens slightly as the shadows stretch out, strangling the light from the room. Crim, himself takes on an aged look, skin drooping, wrinkles and spots appear on his skin.)]]]

On grand endeavor a company did embark- but this movement the brought eyes of a dark heart. Through menacing whit this plot they did uncover- for repose, communion, and providence with forgotten feet found underground, hemming patronage for two palaces of good. This goal would not suit, though sought- to wing went Balagos. Through ink of night, his prey seeking- he soon discovered- and under cover of shadow, razed them rank for rank. Upon that mountain he spoke fire- taking joy in destructions sight. The company- though honorable in fight- fell. And on that mountain were slain- the Dawn found only remains- the victims- of Balagos, the Flying Flame.

[[[(A deep sigh is released, the final chord is struck, and as the shadows retreat Crims’ appearance returns to normal.)]]]

But through fleet of foot these heroes did make haste, seeking shelter lest the dragon had made chase. Into night found solace from fright- and there, on a road east of Tethyr- I met Bartholomew, the poorly named. In battle found- for life and limb, against a terrible foe- carrying a beast within. According whim, I lent my skill to trouble. The battle was hard fought but victory we did wrest- and favoring the fellowship- at camp I took rest. Five they were in all- as different in kind- as in tall. Bartholomew, the poorly named- A Maimed Hand of a Church serving three. Nicklaus, an angel child- even hand of the Judge of The Damned. Ansel, of culinary keen- taking beer over bread to soothe suffering and dread. Sureluck, who’s skilled as sneak- honor bound pledge of The Lord of The Dead. The last I’ll honor with silence- for her an oath I keep- was Balspar, The Thunderlord, whose electric eyes see deep.

At camp and in due course we took libations: celebrating survivals success. An observance mistaken- taken early as plot will now suggest. A bauble of twine braided, red, and deep- a reminder of the friend that this did keep. The favored Eathgud, Son of Eln, of a friend I speak- and presuming the worst- for whom I did weep. Discovered then- as this band befriend- that the survivors sole they had not been. Though a whisper was- a short seven escaped the row, with my friend close in tow.

Seven of stature short – but children were not, for in their stupor stumbled upon deeper plot. Or rather with respect, did stumble hard into waiting trap. Soon found by the brigands tending traps- brigands in a band being led by a dark hand. And as trappings go- the troupe bound and tied, with heads low, over blighted earth the herd was led to go. Reveal at this to these new friends- what little I knew- of Tarn the Slavers City and the druid who blighted seeds grew.

Feeling them ill at ease- for discourse adding troubles does displease. I could sense their common struggle- to assist or abstract. Seeing this was not my quarrel to conflict- I left them, and let Bartholomew, the Poorly Named coax if he could to forge freedom for friend and companion. In the end Sureluck set the bargain: bribe for bribe and friend for friend. To this I listened- though not nearby, and knew at once I must ally.

Upon dawns’ light their course they set- and seeing it required correction, my advice I then present: Resolute be, for this evil- yet to see- has swallowed more than we. Her city is a fortress, resounding and strong, to succeed we must strike fleet and flee- outfitting them then, as light as can be. By dusk of the third day- in a Blight Wood we would lay another day still and spy the city walls, under her cliff face sill. Then into her rabble, as we were traders welcomed from travel.

As the game went on details emerged and aligned and it was by far the best campaign I have ever put together. But then about 6 months ago the group collapsed. Last week two of them came to me and asked to pick it back up. I'm so excited I get to continue the game I can barely wait. A lot has happened since the story above. And I have every intention of completing it and writing more.

Please share your opinions and I welcome any advice about building long term campaigns.