For Fraser

I heard earlier this week about the untimely death of a friend and long term fellow D&D player. He always bought a laugh to our table, and I wanted to share a story from our gaming table. This particular tale comes waaaay back from our D&D campaign at the Bun Shop club.

I hope you enjoy the post and excuse the cliches (I'm not a fiction writer!)

-X-

Welcome to my hearth side old friend. Draw yourself an ale, sit yourself down, make yourself comfortable. We should talk of older times; days of our youth, and of fantastic things we have done and seen. After all, now we have spent all the gold and age has spent the strength from our sword arms, these memories are all we have of that summer.

There are so many tales we could share; of the flame-obsessed halfling thief, or the warrior who fell asleep up a tree and fell to his death. Perhaps the story of the fighter who drowned from a potion or the ranger so ashamed of his behaviour in a tavern he renounced the world and took monastic orders.

These are all good stories (and all true, I swear!) but this evening I want to share my recollections of the Dwarf who was and was not Cursed.