A Gnome Named Nanni: My D&D Adventure

If you caught my Facebook post over the weekend, you know that I went on a little adventure this weekend. No, that's probably an exaggeration. How about... I tried something new that I've always wanted to do! Yes, that's better. I met up with some friends and we created Dungeons & Dragons characters. Yep! I'm going to try to play D&D and I can't wait!

In junior high, a friend introduced me to romance novels. And during my freshman year, a different friend introduced me to fantasy novels. It was simply stunning. My mind screamed, "HOW DID I NOT KNOW YOU COULD WRITE THINGS LIKE THIS!!" During high school and college I even wrote my first fantasy novels and have always wanted to go back.

This could prove to be the kick in the pants I've been looking for to get back to it.

Anyway....

We only got as far as creating our characters since myself and one other person were completely new to this. If you're curious, I have created a character named Frigga "Nanni" of Ingebjorde. She's a gnome bard who is 34 years old and 3'2" tall. If you've played D&D, you're more interested in knowing that she's got:

Strength = 12

Dexterity = 16 (+1)

Constitution = 12 (+8)

Intelligence = 15

Wisdom = 15

Charisma = 17

and an armor class of -2.

At the moment, I don't know what any of that means, but my husband says it's good. When we actually get playing, I'll report back as to whether the dark elf I married is lying to me.

As soon as I met Nanni, I needed to start telling her story as well as the story of the others she would be traveling with. Being a storyteller, I couldn't help but start to imagine how she would meet the others. I thought I'd share what is running through my mind. (I will admit this isn't how the adventure is going to go because we haven't started playing yet. I just needed to get Nanni's playful and curious personality down in my head if I was going on a quest with her.)

I hope you enjoy meeting Nanni, the gnome.



Another group of large humans shoved their way into the Drunken Dwarf Inn, shouting for ale to celebrate the goddess, even if her holy day didn't start until sunrise. It didn't matter. Tomorrow was a day of rest and celebration for the people of Ravenhold, which meant that it was a day of drinking and eating and general merrymaking without the threat of consequences, or so the revelers told themselves as they laughed and sang among themselves.

The local farmers had started pouring into the main room of the inn shortly after noon, enjoying its lower rates for rooms and food than what would be found in the city. The Drunken Dwarf was located just outside the city walls, allowing the area farmers and country folk to enjoy the festivities in the city that was less than an hour's walk away and return come nightfall to sleep off the alcohol before trudging back to their fields, forges, and workshops the next day. The air stunk of sweat, sour ale, and a thick stew that had hung over the cook fire all day, but no one seemed to care.

Goddess Lorenthine's holiday was the last of the summer, celebrated before the fall harvest was brought in and the first sharp bite of winter. There wouldn't be another time of revelry and drinking with friends until the spring planting was completed.

It was all the more reason to take advantage of a good situation, thought the gnome as she idly plucked at the lute lightly clutched in her slender nimble fingers. Nanni's wide brown eyes danced over the crowd, wondering at how they continued to add more bodies into the already packed room. The large torsos of the humans and even a few western mountain dwarves filled the inn so that there was barely room for air.

The inn keeper had already shouted at the barmaids to steal the tables from the main room and to put them out in courtyard beside the stables while lanterns were hung from the old, gnarled trees that shaded the building. As far as Nanni could tell, too few people were willing to venture to the cooler, more comfortable night air to drink. Maybe it was simply too far from the casks of ale and Morellian rum the inn keeper was doling out as fast as he could stick a tankard under the spigot.

For now, the mood of the room was amiable and lively, but Nanni had been around enough holiday celebrations, coronations, and royal births to know that the mood could change fast enough when men were deep in their cups.

With her lute tuned, Nanni scanned the room again, picking out her first targets for the evening. Most of the occupants were humans -- the majority being males, though there were a few exceptions beyond that barmaids attempting to squeeze between bodies to serve drinks and the occasional bowl of stew with a chunk of hard rye bread. There were two tables of dwarves in one corner, but they were hours away from being drunk enough to pay for a song or story.

Leaning forward under the guise of grabbing her own drink, Nanni checked to see that the half-elf she'd spotted when she walked into the tavern two hours ago was still in the same spot, nursing his drink. His manner was stiff and cautious, as if anxiously watching the crowd before him, but Nanni simply smiled to herself. He wasn't going to be a target for a few coins, though she expected him to get much more intoxicated as the night wore on. There was no missing the symbol of Lorenthine hanging around his neck. Whether a former cleric or still practicing, the half-elf would not pass up this holiday to celebrate his patron goddess, even if he didn't quite care for his company.

No, tonight was going to be songs and extravagant tales of battles and shining conquests for the humans, and maybe one bawdy song for the dwarves to keep them drinking. Strumming her lute in time to a lively and popular tune that had paid her meal on more than one occasion, Nanni started to open her mouth to sing when her voice became trapped in her throat.

A drow had just walked into the tavern. Her fingers froze on the strings and all memory of merry songs fled her mind as she stared at the tall, dark figure casting his long shadow from the doorway. Cold, pale eyes swept over the room that had gone as silent as a church at midnight. A dark elf rarely left his clan nestled deep within the bowels of the earth and when they ventured forth, death and ruin was left in their wake.

Nanni held her breath, willing her heart to start beating again, as she waited for more drow to follow. But it never happened. This one was alone, not that it made him any less dangerous. No, but a single drow was less likely to cause problems in a crowded inn. Well, certainly less likely so long as none of the occupants of the inn started trouble with him.

Clutching her lute tightly to her chest, the gnome jumped up on her stool so that her three-foot-height stood only slightly above any who were still standing within the main room and raised her lilting voice in a bawdy song of man who set to wooing all six daughters of a wealthy landowner and then leaving them the next morn. By the time she reached the chorus, the majority of the inn occupants were singing along to the tune, forgetting the dark shadow that lingered in their midst.

Glancing back to the drow as she started the second verse, she saw him give her an almost imperceptible nod before heading to the bar. Interesting, she thought. Certainly, the drow wouldn't count himself within her debt for simply keeping the crowd from falling into violence, but it definitely didn't hurt that she was in the dark elf's good graces for now.

In truth, she couldn't say that she had acted so quickly because of him. It wasn't as if she could hope to use her charm or even a little magical push to earn some coin off of him, no matter how good she was. No, this was about her purse and her belly. A fight with the drow would definitely destroy the joyous mood and possibly bring the patrol to the inn -- two things that would keep her from earning what she needed to pay her way into Ravenhold for the celebration as well as secure a room at an inn in a nicer part of town.

But all the same, she'd keep an eye on the drow. The dark elves weren't ones to travel far from home and never without their brethren. No, this drow was up to mischief or adventure, and Nanni was confident that either was going to be far more interesting that yet another holy holiday of drinking, eating, and fornicating.