Jeremy Andrews
Bio
An avid gamer, fantasy buff, and disciple of the great J.R.R. Tolkien.
Stories (5/0)
Tales from the Table
Hi, and welcome to the first chapter of Tales from the Table, my little neck of the RPG woods. In these blog type thingies, I will have stories of past games, tips and tricks for both players and GMs alike, as well as little bits of humor and ra nts...mostly rants. I'm going to try to do this weekly, but I'm a lazy sod so I wouldn't count on it. Mostly, this is going to deal with 1st to 3rd edition D&D, because I hate 4th and haven't played 5th, and with a few other games thrown in for color
By Jeremy Andrews4 years ago in Gamers
High Noon
"That kid wasn't nothin' but a greenhorn. Why, I did him and the world a favor by putting a bullet in 'im,” the lanky cowboy said, laughing along with the rest of his gang at their table in the Rusty Spur, a rough saloon on Whisper Street in Heaven's Gate.
By Jeremy Andrews5 years ago in Horror
The Assassin's Guarantee
Trevan spotted the man easily when he stepped foot into the tavern despite the smoke from the many pipes and tallow candles. The man wore expensive black leather armor with sparkling metal studs, two gold hoops in each of his ears, and a ruby the size of a robin's egg set in a ring on one of his fingers. Even though he flaunted his wealth openly, not a single one of the many cutthroats and thieves in the dingy roadside tavern made even the slightest move towards the man.
By Jeremy Andrews6 years ago in Futurism
Kieran's Revenge
Kieran's Revenge The midday sun beat down relentlessly on the body strewn battlefield as soldiers from each side retrieved the bodies of their fallen comrades for burial, burning, or whatever funerary rites their respective gods demanded of them. Flies buzzed over the bloated bodies, their incessant droning filling the ears of the men. The stench from the sun baked field was tremendous, and those that were unlucky enough to pull this horrible duty wore plague masks, the long snouts stuffed with fragrant flowers. This did little to cover the smell of the dead and dying, and many men retched and gagged as they went along their task.
By Jeremy Andrews6 years ago in Futurism