Welcome to Dungeons & Dragons – The Death Knight’s Squire! Last time our hero, Milhouse the Scholar, died while fighting giant spiders. D’oh! Instead of calling it a day, I’m going to rewind the clock and attempt to fight these spiders again.

What follows are some boring mechanics. Skip ahead past the bolded sections if you’re some sort of not-a-nerd guy or gal.

All right, Spiders. Prepare to meet your spider maker!

-Roll initiative = doesn’t matter because my party has but one person! Milhouse! Milhouse the Scholar!

-Milhouse has Magic Missile memorized, it can hit multiple targets, and the range is high as hell, so he’ll try casting this. For now, only on Spider #1. d20 + Intelligence + Proficiency = 15 + 3 + 4 = 22, which beats the Spider’s AC of 13. Dart 1 = 1d4 + 1 = 4. Dart 2 = 2. Dart 3 = 5. Total = 11. Spider #1 has 11 HP. That was easy. Bye bye, Spider #1.

-Spider #2 moves 40 ft. forward and is not within range for a melee attack.

-Milhouse moves 30 ft. forward and is within range for a melee attack. d20 + Strength + Proficiency = 4 – 1 + 4 = 7. Not good enough.

-Spider #2 is within range of a melee attack. d20 + Strength + 3 to hit = 17 + 1 + 3 = 21, so yeah, he hits me. 4 HP damage (bringing Milhouse down to 8 HP), then a DC 11 Constitution saving throw to prevent getting really poisoned. d20 + Constitution + Proficiency = 17 + 1 + 4 = 22. Additional 3 HP of damage, Milhouse is down to 5 HP.

-Milhouse does another melee attack. 17 -1 + 4 = 20. 1d6 = 3 HP. Spider #2 is down to 8 HP. Jesus Christ.

-Spider #2 tries again. 7 + 1 + 3 = 11. With my AC of 13, it doesn’t hit. Thank God.

-Ray of Frost time. d20 + Intelligence + Proficiency = 1 + 3 + 4 = 8. Boo.

-Spider +2 = 3 + 1 + 3 = 7. Hooray.

-Ray of Frost. 7 + 3 + 4 = 13. 1d8 = 3. Spider #2 is down to 5 HP.

-Spider +2 = 17 + 1 + 3 = 21 and I’m dead because the remaining damage (16) is greater than my total HP.

…

Well, let’s say that I defeated the spiders! Yeah, that’s how I’ll do it!

-Milhouse gains 100 XP

lol

Having handily slain the terrible, aggressive spiders, Milhouse breathes a sigh of relief. “Whew!” he says. “Time for a rest!” Milhouse traipses to a safe part of the wood, unrolls his bedroll, and takes a couple of hours to himself. After a time, he returns to the scene of the spider massacre, tears down the weak webs with his quarterstaff, and investigates the spiders’ remains. Off the path, he finds what look like bodies wrapped up in webs! Egad! Gross! Disgusting! Enough to — hey, look! That dead orc has 21 copper pieces and a dagger! Score! More searching reveals a heavy crossbow, of which he has no proficiency since Milhouse the Cute Little Elf is a wizard, and a Potion of Healing! What a haul. Milhouse dances a dainty little jig. That potion will come in handy if he starts getting wasted by more spiders.

After collecting his new equipment and items, Milhouse sets off on the path again.

Milhouse now needs to avoid more webs. Roll perception (DC 15). d20 + 0 = 7. Pffft.

Milhouse presses forward with reckless abandon, but luckily there are no traps in the area. He ought to be more careful next time lest he gets his fat leg caught in a rusty bear trap. “I ought to be more careful,” he thinks as he moves into a new area.

Check for traps? Roll perception (DC 18). Oof. d20 + 0 = 1. Ha! Catastrophic failure. He might as well stick his penis in a guillotine.

There are no more traps to be found, but Milhouse didn’t look very hard. No matter, he saunters forward and doesn’t get caught in a net or anything. Taking a swig of water from his pack, our young, intrepid elf feels on top of the world. Defeating those spiders has really put a pep in Milhouse’s step! In fact, when he comes across a tiny house in the clearing of the wood, he feels bold enough to investigate. It appears to be in rough shape; perhaps even abandoned. Vines snake up the sides of the slightly dilapidated hut. He approaches the front door… and stops in his tracks. “Perhaps I need to take a look around and make sure nothing is waiting to surprise me.”

It’s like a Hobbit house, with less grubby little filthy, hairy, awful people.

Again, Milhouse checks for traps. Roll perception (DC 15). d20 + 0 = 7. Oh well, he had a 25% chance.

As far as Milhouse’s beady little eyes can see, there don’t seem to be any traps on or around the front door (unless there is a bucket of water perched on top waiting to fall on his head! Hahaha!), so, cautiously, his pushes the rickety wooden door open.

The first thing that he notices is a crackling fire burning in the hearth. “Odd,” he says, looking around. “No one appears to be home.” He takes a few steps into the main living area and notices a strange, unsettling smell…

Suddenly, it feels as though a giant invisible hand is crushing Milhouse’s skull! “Ahhhhh!!” he yelps. “Ahhhhh, it hurts! What is going on??” The force of the invisible pressure is unrelenting. Within moments, Milhouse blacks out…

…and wakes up several hours later. The room is still empty. It appears to be nighttime outside, but it’s hard to tell without windows or openings in the walls. Milhouse realizes that the strange odor smells like burning embers. He finally gets a good look around the nearly-empty room. A couple of chairs sit against a simple table. Surveying the room, he sees nothing of interest, no precious objects to pillage, and no food.

The Blood Knight demands vengeance, justice, and a pair of tweed pants!

“AHHH, WHAT’S THAT??” Milhouse screams a bit too loudly. There is a slim figure against the wall staring at him silently; a tall, slim figure clad in armor… as Milhouse stares at the figure, it slowly begins to glow redder and redder… until its nature is revealed. “A knight!” Milhouse cries. Surely not the Death Knight himself! He holds a terrifying, shimmering greatsword. If Milhouse isn’t careful, he’ll be hacked to bits!

Milhouse reaches for his quarterstaff, but it’s gone. Dagger, gone. Bag of supplies, gone. “Do not bother searching for your equipment, mortal,” booms the Death Knight. “Listen, mortal, And listen carefully! I have a task for you.” Milhouse is stricken with fear. “There is a knight who claims ownership over this forest. A warrior who, like myself, is not of this realmmmm…” The extra M’s make Milhouse’s spine shiver. “My followers call me the Blood Knight of Kiaransalee. I am a loyal follower of Kiaransalee, the Dark Goddess, Enemy of Lolth and Orcus, The Vengeful Banshee!”

Oh no! Kiaransalee! She and her cult following is supposed to be long dead! Oh, the atrocities that this cult has committed! They are too horrible to even mention in even vague detail, apparently!

“My followers and I will see the Mother return to her former power… and we have chosen this Wood of Weathercote as the point of her arrival. It is aligned with the unseen stars and the nodes of power that exist in this land… it is a small but potent place. But this one who they call the Death Knight… He must die, mortal. And you have been chosen by the Goddess as the bringer of his demise!”

This Blood Knight is starting to get a little verbose, but Milhouse lets down his guard. It appears that he and this Knight share a common goal. “And as reward,” the Knight continues, “you will become my most exalted follower! My general, who shall stand beside me in glory as we return the Goddess Kiaransalee to her rightful place as ruler of this land!”

Well, Milhouse doesn’t much like the sound of this. But, he continues hearing the Blood Knight speak. He sure likes to hear his own voice, Milhouse thinks. “Do not be afraid mortal. I am Myrkbrood, made from the embers of the cremated dead. And this weapon is of the Myrk as well!” The Knight brings forth, as if out of thin air, a long sword. It glows red as if kissed by fire itself. “This is known as a Sword of the Goddess’s Wrath. You will use it to slay the one known as the Death Knight! And then, return it to me before the dawn. If you refuse any part of this task, my followers will pursue you to the ends of the world! You shall live a cursed life, always looking over your shoulder. Are we in agreeance, mortal?”

The elf takes the sword in his hand, and it glows with iridescent radiance. It almost hurts to hold, it’s so damn hot and bright. Jesus. A dark energy pervades the sword, and he can feel it creep up his arm and permeate his very soul.

“I accept your quest,” Milhouse says with conviction.

And so it shall be. Or something to that effect.