This is certainly a work in progress, considering it describes a current D&D game in which me and some of my friends are involved. Chapters will be told from the perspectives of different characters, but I don't know that I'll have any specific order to how they rotate. The campaign is from an adventure book our DM has called "The Sunless Citadel" (hence the title).
I don't own D&D or even most of the characters and places mentioned below. Doran Coll is my own creation, while the other main characters are my friends'. Anything original in the world will be pretty derivative, but I hope you enjoy the story.
Call me Doran. I am proud to claim allegiance to the ideals of justice and protection as a minister of Saint Cuthbert, Lord of the Cudgel. Through his strength I've broken the enemies of my roving, and as long as my devotion continues he will never forsake me.
For several years I've wandered the land, staying mainly in the more populated regions of our world. I enjoy my solitude and love exploring, but I have no special delight for the treacherous wilderness. And how am I to protect the weak if I go where no men dwell? I had recently passed through Springvale to see my former colleague Father Abban, but to my dismay he was no longer among them. His neighbor—though unaware of his true occupation, I am sure—told me the good priest had sold his property in the village and been away for several months. I said a brief prayer to Lord Cuthbert on his behalf, but I knew that my friend was quite skilled and should be faring well.
Thus with an unfulfilled heart I left Springvale, hoping to find dear Abban elsewhere in this world. My purse was very light, so I decided to take the road to Oakhurst in search of a commission. My brothers had supplied me well when I first left, but my trip was stretching much longer than I'd foreseen. I prayed that Saint Cuthbert would smile on me as I began this new piece of my journey. Oakhurst, it seemed, would supply my fortunes, at least in the near future.
The first day passed quietly until afternoon, letting me enjoy the bright sun and moderate exercise. The quietude loosened my disappointed mind. It was late afternoon when I heard a party of four or five on the trail behind me. I watched them draw nearer for a while, and they made no effort at stealth. This led me to two possible conclusions. Either they posed no threat to me, or they were powerful enough that I would pose no threat to them. I carried far too much equipment to outpace them, so I requested a blessing from Saint Cuthbert until I could discover their purpose.
The prayer was timely, for a crossbow bolt sped by and glanced off my divine armor. I hoped the protection would hold true for a little while longer, but no further shots came from the group. A rather slim, blonde man with a flail ran in my direction, shouting a strange mixture of apologies and threats. "Peace to you, sir," I returned loudly, holding my empty palm up toward him.
The adventurer, breathless but wary, stopped a good ten yards away. His weapon dangled menacingly in his hand, but he did not attempt to strike me—not that he could have quite then. "Do you mean it?" he asked between gasps of air.
"My word is my law, and I do not give it lightly." The man accepted my answer and relaxed, so I continued my introduction. "I am a holy cleric of the righteous Saint Cuthbert of the Cudgel, journeying from Springvale to Oakhurst. I rarely stay in one place too long, but I roam throughout this world and alleviate the evils I may, though this current quest may involve more working to feed my body."
"Very wordy, fair priest," the man replied. "But an okay quest to have. Barty T. Bard, poet by trade," he said, offering his right hand. I clasped it firmly with my gauntlet and bowed. "It's good to meet you, I think. We're headed to Oakhurst as well, but you can probably come along if you want. There's safety in numbers, and you might get along with Palanob fairly well." He turned to rejoin his companions before looking back at me. "Wait a second…I didn't happen to catch your name."
"Call me Cole—Doran Coll, if you will," I told him, catching myself. "It's an abbreviation for Doradhan, but you're welcome to use the shorter form in addressing me," I added.
"Well, Mr. Coll, let's go meet the others." Barty led me to the rest of the waiting group, who thankfully took no further shots at me. Three men of various ages and a small woman with a peculiarly mystical appearance watched us approach. One of them had a lute out and was strumming a light-hearted song. The other male travelers twirled their daggers listlessly. The woman remained silent and aloof, face half-hidden beneath her heavy traveling cloak.
"Palanob, Swanky, weapons away," the minstrel called, and his associates complied. "We have a friend among us." The two stood to greet me as Barty introduced us. The heavily armored warrior, sword belted to his waist, extended his hand first. "This is Palanob, our paragon of virtue," Barty quipped. "Y'all might have some things in common, since it's his job to uphold good and be all holy and whatnot." The paladin smiled and gripped my hand firmly.
The rather creepy young man in black kept his distance from me while Barty presented him. "This is Swanky the Cunning, or so he thinks." Swanky grunted and turned his back to us. The bard whispered, "He can't really remember anything about his past, but he's fairly skilled. So eager to kill, though. I keep an eye on him when I can spare it." I noticed a gleam in the hunter's face that unsettled me, and I knew I'd keep Barty's words in mind.
The other musician stopped playing long enough to welcome me. "I'm Gallant Ladiesman 'the Irresistible,' " he boomed with an extravagant sweep. The lump of soap that fell from his pocket simply complemented his image, though I doubt it was with the same intention he'd hoped. "Umm, I may need that later," the bard muttered, but other items tumbled around him as he scrambled to replace his inventory. I left him to his fumbling as Barty brought me to the last of their group.
"Kahlan Amnell." The name chimed suddenly from beneath the hood; she hardly even waited for our arrival. Her enchantingly soft voice surprised me before she revealed her face more clearly.
"A Half-elf!" I exclaimed. The girl's heritage was clear. Underneath her coat she passed for a petite human, being taller than her elven ancestors, but she still bore a trace of that race's remarkable charm. I'd had some contact with Elves during my wanderings and even learned their language from rigorous study, but their compelling beauty continually amazed me. I'd learned that they cared little for human deities—including my own—but Half-elves are a less predictable sort, and I doubted my godly faith would interfere with our relationship.
"Doradhan Coll, honorable cleric of Saint Cuthbert, at your service, lady," I hailed her in the Elven tongue. She seemed surprised but a little pleased and coolly smiled at me.
"Well met, traveler," Kahlan replied. She turned to an intrigued Barty, switching back to Common to engage him. "So he's safe, then?"
"If he's telling the truth. The problem is that good liars seem honest, too, you know?" Barty shrugged. "Either way, he's only one guy. I don't care if he does have the gods on his side; he can't take us all." The minstrel realized I was still standing there and laughed. "I'm sure you won't cause us any trouble, Mr. Coll. It'll be nice to have a cleric along with us if we get hurt. You can heal, right?" I nodded yes, and he continued. "At the very least, you can keep Palanob over there company with your sermons."
"You have my word as a priest that I will help as I can," I affirmed. "Though it seems that you might have more need of my sermons than a holy warrior of righteousness would." Kahlan smirked at Barty's scowl.
"As long as you can keep his ego in check, I'll be glad if you want to come," she informed me. "And if that's settled with everyone else, I think we've waited here long enough. Oakhurst awaits."