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👍 - “Yes. Wholeheartedly.” You see the muscles in Brutus’ jaw flex almost imperceptibly as he swallows and nods with an indecipherable expression. After a long pause he tears his eyes away from you, mutters a thank you and continues to sharpen his sword without another word. You gather this is the end of the conversation and take the opportunity to stand and return to your tent for the evening, ready for a long and well-earned night’s sleep. . . . CONGRATULATIONS! You’ve made it to the end of the first chapter of Pocket DnD! It’s been a long journey to get to this point, but I’ve honestly had such a blast sharing this with you! It means the world to me that you guys are happy to come back and check on the next instalment every week and stay invested in the story. If you guys have had half as much fun as I have, then I think I’ve done my job well! Now, as much as I love writing this story, I think it’s time for me to take a bit of a break for myself and maybe spend some time planning out what chapter 2 and beyond is going to bring! I’ve already got some things in mind, but alas, you’ll just have to wait for that big reveal. 😈 I love you more than DnD on Thursdays! Brutus and Clement will be back with your beloved weekly dose of drama in no time! 😘😘 - Elly . . . #pocketdnd #dnd #dungeonsanddragons #roleplaying #interactivestorytelling #chooseyourownadventure #swellpublications

You sit beside Brutus as he continues to sharpen his sword, but you find yourself at a loss for words as you try to broach this subject without landing a punch straight between your eyes. The constant SHING! SHING! of the metal grinding against the whetstone doesn’t exactly help your confidence either. “Sooo--” “I don’t like small talk,” Brutus grunts. “If you’re going to talk, make it worth my time.” He brings the sword closer to his face for further inspection, spits on it, then returns to sharpening it again. Suddenly, the ‘brute’ part of his name doesn’t seem so far-fetched. You clear your throat and look away from him, thinking that perhaps if you don’t focus on the sword, it’ll be easier to have a legitimate conversation. SHING! SHING! ...Theoretically, that is. “I think you know what I want to talk about, Brutus.” “Look, Boss,” he sighs heavily and places the sword down (thank god!) to turn to you. “I got no problem working with you. I can tell you’re good people, and even though we’ve been drunk for most of the time we’ve known each other--” you both pause to have a little chuckle at your past shenanigans. “--I know you and I are going to go far together. But that man...I don’t trust him.” “What makes you say that?” “He’s too quiet sometimes. And I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but he’s literally the most boring person in the world.” “You don’t like him because he’s boring?” “No, I..” His face falls into his hands in frustration. “Look, I’m not good with words or thinking like you two are but I just don’t think he’s good people like you and me.” “So what do you need me to do?” He pauses for a moment, before looking up to meet your gaze for the first time since the conversation began. “I need you to trust me.” You swallow tightly, trying to read his expression despite his stony features. To call him soft would be a flat-out lie, but if there was any hint of treac

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You nod towards Brutus as he takes his position towards the outer circle of the camp, which causes Clement to huff out a sigh of relief. “You know that phrase ‘has more brawn than brains’? I didn’t think I’d actually meet a person that fit that description personally.” “You don’t have to be so hard on him, you know,” you say, turning back to your absentminded fire poking. “I’m sure he’s a good guy deep down.” Clement scoffs and stretches his back out. “I know good guys, Boss. Good guys don’t attack strangers as soon as they meet them.” The image of the two of them grappling in the town square returns to the front of your mind and you can’t find the words to dispute his point. Something inside of you is trying to convince yourself that Brutus is implicitly on your side, but he hasn’t done anything specifically to reassure you of that. Clement watches you carefully as you ponder these points, clearly not wanting to break the silence as his perspective sinks in. Eventually, you let out a heaving sigh and turn back to him, meeting his eye for the first time since you’d made camp. “We can debate his allegiance all we want, but right now, I think we both could use some rest, would you agree?” Clement clenches his jaw tightly, but nods in agreement. Neither of you bother to say anything else other than a few pleasantries before you retire to your tent for the night. It’s been a long day and you’re exhausted after mediating arguments between the two of your companions, but Clement’s words still echo around your head. Is Brutus really to be trusted? Your eyes drift towards the small opening at the front of your tent and you catch a glimpse of Brutus sharpening his sword in the near distance as he keeps an eye on the deep forest. . . . #PocketDnd #InteractiveStorytelling #SwellPublications #Roleplaying #ChooseYourOwnAdventure

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It takes a lot more groaning, complaining and bickering, but the three of you finally make it to the woods and lay down your supplies. Getting your big boss-man voice on, you clap your hands and startle the other two out of their exhausted stupor. “Alright boys! Camp time! I want both of you to be in charge of your own tent and supplies.” Giving both of them a stern glance, you emphasise your last point. “And if I hear any arguing, you’re sleeping in the cold tonight.” They both grumble in agreement and turn to their tents without making eye contact with each other. Alongside its relative safety, camping in the woods has the unfortunate side effect of turning the world much darker than it should be once the sun begins to set and even the full moon cannot fully penetrate the thick roof of foliage above you. As he begins to squint against the darkness, Brutus turns to make a fire as quickly as he can, illuminating your small campsite in a warm welcoming glow. The chill of the night sets in as the three of you huddle against the gentle roaring flame to work the warmth back into your fingers. None of you wish to break the silence that lingers between you, but you know it has to be done since you’re the designated leader of this company (since when did that happen, anyway?). “One of us has to take the first watch tonight,” you say, poking the fire absentmindedly with a stick. “You never know what could be hiding in the woods.” “Better than bandits jumping us on the road,” Clement mutters, leaning back on his arms and closing his eyes lazily. “Be that as it may, I’d rather be safe than sorry. We can swap over in a few hours so the first watch can get some rest.” Brutus nods, grabbing his sword and strapping it to his waist. “I can do it, Boss. Hopefully some rest will help Vendor’s attitude.” “Clement,” Clement corrects, not even bothering to open his eyes. “That’s what I said.” You roll your eyes at the interaction, but consi

It takes a moment for you to shake out of your stupor after the sudden attack of your memory. “Well then, pray tell, what IS your name?” You ask, looking up at him through glazed eyes. He looks at you with a creased brow, though you cannot tell whether it’s concern or confusion. He makes a step towards you and places his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently. If this is his small act of non-verbal support, it works, and the cold chill of nostalgia gently falls away. “My name is Clement,” he says. “I’d appreciate it if you called me as such from here on out.” You turn to look at him and nod slightly. Surprisingly, he doesn’t acknowledge your response, rather he turns back to Brutus as the barbarian scoffs in disinterest. “I preferred Vendor, actually.” Venom seeps from Clement’s eyes as he snarls at Brutus with a ferocity you hadn’t seen the likes of from him before. “Trust an oaf like you not to care about others, regardless.” Before the tension can escalate any further, you grasp Clement’s shoulder and pull him back towards you. “That’s enough!” You cry out, pushing yourself into the centre between them. “Both of you have agreed to come on this journey with me, so I ask you both to behave yourselves!” The two of them slowly back down from their defensive positions and turn away from each other. “Good boys,” you praise them as if they were children. “Now, we have to get moving before the sun gets down too low, but all this arguing and complaining from you both has caused us to lose a lot of daylight so we don’t have to make camp in the middle of nowhere. Got it?” Both of them nod, chastised at your sudden outburst, and grab their respective packs, no longer complaining about their weight. You know you need to make camp somewhere within the next few hours, it’s just a matter of how much longer you’ll need to walk. Where shall you camp for the night? • • • #SwellPublications #PocketDnD #ChooseYourOwn

You twirl the dagger in your hands and run your fingers across the blade, admiring it from all angles. A fond smile makes itself across your face unconsciously. The memories of your family come running back. Your mother’s proud smile as she hands you this precious heirloom as a gift flashing through your mind as vividly as the day it happened. You swept her into a hug and held her tightly in adoration and gratitude, then— Blood. Fire. Pain. Screams. You wince as the memory is inevitably chased by another. Repressing as much as you can, you shakily grasp the handle of the dagger and slip it back in your pack. “Things will be different this time,” you mutter to yourself. “They have to be.” You retreat back into your memory as the other two bustle about with their own aching muscles and disorganised packs. It takes several minutes before Brutus speaks up to break the silence between the three of you, sarcastically barking at Vendor as he performs an intriguing set of stretches and contortions. “Yo, Vendor! No wonder you can’t carry anything! It looks like you left your bones behind in the last village!” He laughs at his own joke and raises his fist to you for validation, but you’re too lost in your own memory to respond adequately, mustering only a weak smile. Vendor straightens up and sighs wearily. “What a creative insult,” he says. “Make fun of me if you wish, but I’ll have you know that my name is not Vendor, nor is that my occupation now. If we are to continue…tolerating each other, then I humbly request that you call me by my own name.” Brutus grunts at his attempt at comedy falling flat, but you tear yourself out of your memory as much as you can to respond to Ven—err, the sorcerer’s request. How do you refer to him from now on? • • • #SwellPublications #PocketDnD #ChooseYourOwnAdventure

Brutus grunts under the weight of the baggage strapped to his back. “Urgh…Boss? Did we…have to bring so many supplies?” He stumbles again as a jar of sardines rolls out of the top of the pack and onto the ground—the latest in a long line of discarded breadcrumbs that couldn’t be spared from toppling. Vendor rolls his eyes at Brutus’ complaint, hefting a considerably smaller back over his shoulder. “What’s the use of having a barbarian like you around if you’re not going to carry your weight?” “I AM carrying my weight, sorcerer,” Brutus growls in response. “In fact, I’m carrying a great deal of yours too!” Vendor doesn’t reply, rather he turns his back and continues walking straight ahead of you both. This tension between them is palpable almost to the point where it’s unbearable, but at this point you’re unsure as to how to break it up between them without choosing a side outright. Brutus grunts again, a book falling out facedown in the mud. “Please Boss, all I need is just a short break.” You nod and slump your own pack off your shoulders, much to the chagrin of Vendor. Still, he turns back and sits across from you, massaging the balls of his feet with a firm thumb. Brutus doesn’t even spare him a glance before tossing his baggage on the ground beside him and letting out a roar of relief. The three of you spend the first few minutes in silence, just letting the sounds of the early autumn breeze and busy critters bustle about. In order to pass the time, you reach into your pack and pull out your weapon to study it carefully. It’s been in your possession for many years, and all that training has certainly paid off. You’re no master, by any means, but you’re certainly more than capable of protecting yourself when push comes to shove. What weapon has been your loyal companion all this time? 👍 - Your father’s longsword. You’ve always considered yourself more of a fighter. 😆 - Your mother’s jewelled dagger. Yo

You wish you could remember what happened next, but even months afterwards when you rack your memory for what happened on that fateful afternoon, you cannot seem to conjure an answer. Rather, the only evidence that remained of your alcohol-fueled escapades with Brutus included MANY emptied pints, a bouquet of red roses and a traffic cone (what the heck even *is* a traffic cone?). That being said, when you finally regain consciousness, Brutus is laughing drunkenly as he slumps against the tavern wall, which is a vast improvement on his mood from before. A fly on the other side of the room buzzes far too loudly for comfort as you sprawl out on the floor, one hand still clutching a half-empty tankard and the other hand pinned underneath your back, which flails around mindlessly as you try to regain some sort of feeling in it again. “Have a nice night, did we?” a stoic voice echoes from above you. Vendor stares down at your prone body, crossing his arms across his chest and displaying an expression that could very nearly be described as annoyed. Brutus continues giggling in the corner which earns an unimpressed roll of the eyes from Vendor and a hefty mug of water dunked over his head. Mood immediately soured, he lashes out at Vendor with his fists but he stumbles over his feet and lands on the floor beside you, back to his giggling again. Vendor sighs and looks back to you. “Alright boss, get up. It’s time to leave.” You shake your head to clear the fog as much as possible. “Whaaaat? Already?” He grabs you by the collar and hauls you up to your feet. He’s surprisingly stronger than he looks! “Yes, already. Now come on, not all of us are content to sit around drunkenly all day.” Brutus rolls over onto his back. “Speak for yourself, tiny.” It takes around half an hour for the two of you to be in a semi-presentable position, but you can finally stand up straight, which is a huge achievement in your eyes. Next is to load up on supplies. Brutus is c

NO #PocketDnD TODAY! Apologies, but due to the lockdown crazies, there's no installement for our adventure today. However! Head over to our Story where Ashley will be playing a small character creation game. Keep an eye out next week to see the next chapter of our adventure! • • • #SwellPublications #ChooseYourOwnAdventure

You scamper after Brutus, though his strides are far longer and heavier than yours, making yours look quite measly in comparison. The door thuds back on its hinges as the tavern’s patrons welcome him back with a chorus of cheers, though you can’t help but notice he ignores their jests and moseys back over towards the bar. The tavern keeper doesn’t say a word as he pours a hefty dark ale into one of the largest tankards you’ve ever seen and slides it back towards Brutus, who instantly takes a massive swig. Okay, he must be feeling worse than you thought. You take the seat next to him and motion for the keeper to give you a drink too, but he either doesn’t notice or straight up ignores you. “Excuse me, I’d like a drink too, please!” you call out impatiently. He hands you a glass of water. Typical. Still, you welcome having something in your hands so it’s not as awkward around Brutus with his huge tankard, though you imagine the sight of the two of you sitting side by side must be an amusement to the other patrons. Beside you, Brutus glares into his tankard, watching the frothy head pop and bubble as it swishes around. He swallows deeply and sighs before turning back to you. You take the silence to consider how you approach this. Should you ask it outright? Maybe offer him a drink and get him tipsy? Or even— “If you’ve come to comfort me, I don’t welcome your company.” He takes another aggressive gulp of his ale and slams it on the counter so hard, you could have sworn he made a dent. “The only thing I welcome is more ale and a swift punch in that bastard’s face.” He’s still clearly upset about what happened, so you decide to play it carefully. How do you respond to his frustration? 👍 - Leave him alone and go find Vendor 😆 - Ask him what’s got him so disturbed 😡 - Pour him another drink • • • #SwellPublications #ChooseYourOwnAdventure #PocketDnD

You crack your neck, knuckles and any other joints that make you seem more intimidating, though it seems hardly worth it when Brutus, in all of his 6-foot-huge glory, is growling in Vendor’s face. You step up to the two of them and raise a measly fist to seem vaguely threatening. “I’d suggest you pay attention to my abnormally large friend here,” you say, trying to match Brutus’ energy but failing miserably. “His bark’s a lot worse than his bite.” Vendor, for his part, doesn’t spare you a glance as he stares Brutus down, unnaturally unflinching. “Fine, fine! Take the stock! It’s mostly bioluminescent algae and glitter anyway!” he sighs, going almost limp in the large man’s grip. Brutus grunts in response. “It’s not just the stock that smells fishy.” He inhales deeply as if to emphasise his point--or at least, you think it’s to emphasise his point. At this point you’re a little concerned. “You’re hiding something, aren’t you?” Vendor grabs Brutus’ arms to steady himself and leans closer. “I think we’re all hiding something, don’t you think?” Brutus’ face goes blank for a second, his eyes flashing a story that his words could never describe. Vendor barks a laugh in response as he’s slowly lowered to the ground. “Very nice. I’d suggest we keep things civil from now on if you expect me to follow you for the journey.” He straightens his collar and clears his throat as if he hadn’t been pressed against the wall and threatened, rather as if he’d just encountered a particularly strong wind. “Until then, I shall be gathering my things, so you can come and collect me once you’re ready to depart town.” Brutus doesn’t meet your gaze as his expression comes back to reality, and instead shuffles back towards the tavern. He mumbles something about getting something to drink, but to let him know when you’re ready to begin your adventure. You’re left alone in the centre of the town square as your new com

“Wait, you actually want to join me?” He shrugs almost imperceptibly, his face unchanging. “Have to see the world one way or another, right?” You pretend to think about it for a second, letting your eyes roam over the various arcane items on his stand. “Alright, we have a deal, but only if you bring your entire stock with you.” You don’t know how he does it, but now he looks even less impressed with you. “Seriously? Without payment?” “The payment is letting you come with me for an adventure!” He shakes his head at you and sighs dejectedly. “I can’t do that. This stock belongs to my manager. If I go off on some adventure and leave just the stall behind with no stock, he’ll literally hunt me down and kill me.” “So?” You buff your nails on your shirt before examining them nonchalantly. “So…let’s not do that?” You respond with silence, to which he sighs again. “Fine. ONE health potion and that stupid rock you love so much.” You give him a smug smile and turn to continue on your journey, nearly bumping into a solid chest as you go. Brutus doesn’t even look down as he steadies you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. Instead, his gaze is locked on the Vendor (is that just his name now? It feels a little awkward to ask now that you’ve practically indentured him again) as he locks up the stock in the safe box underneath the stall. “Boss?” he grunts. “I don’t like this guy. He smells something fierce.” Wait, can he actually smell that on him? Honestly, you’d be surprised if he can smell anything other than his own putrid scent. As you puzzle this insignificant debate in your head, he moves over to Vendor and grasps his shirt by the collar, getting into his space. “Hey hey! Big guy, what’s the deal?” Vendor cries out, though his reaction is far more subdued than you thought. Brutus grunts again and snarls right up against Vendor’s face as a primal animal would to his prey. How do you diffuse the situation?