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Here is one I wrote a few months ago as a sample.  I guess it can be included here too.  A bit creepy, wonder if we can have dark gloom scenes like that in the game!

The Band of Bards

How the gloom was tended by the will of the fallen angels. Every bit of ash in the campfire had been blown away by the wicked winds heckling through the trees. The fall of the crackling oaken branches was subdued by the angry raindrops pouring down upon the dreary shattered clearing.

The place where the tent had been so neatly sited was now just a memory in the passage of time. The darkened passaged leading to the serrated mountain was all that remained of a place once full of laughing and singing mere hours before. The small band of bards had quickly retreated from the massive droplets of water which suddenly poured on their faces like wave of cold water from a turbulent sea.

Unfortunately, the wind beaten path leading them to the mountain was also littered with broken branches, jagged rocks and pieces of broken glass from their own supplies. The wind made it nearly impossible to tread quickly to the asylum of the mountain. Some had fallen into the mud from disorientation of the water and wind on their faces. The stronger of the bards was unable to see properly to grasp the hands of distraught others, and instead stumbled into the broken path themselves. Shrieking with pain the members of the band were further terrorized by loud bursts of thunder overhead, thrashing sounds echoed in their heads from the painfully shrill cracking of the massive gale.

Suddenly, the wind became calm, and the road became clear. The band of bards struggled to stand on their feet. They staggered painfully to the jagged mountain. The darkness seemed less perilous, and for the first time since the goblets of wine had been torn from their hands, they felt a sense of hope. They all struggled towards the opening, with heavy steps and bloodied limbs, then entered into a narrow opening within the massive mountainside.

The interior of the opening was dank. The only light was dimly lit from the half moon glowing faintly through the thick clouds in the sky. All of their belongings had been lost and broken, and the only pursuit they could hope for was a freezing night mashed together in this small damp cave. With no blankets or fire, they huddled together and chatted tearfully.

One of the bards pulled a small harmonica from his pocket and played softly. The dank air lightened, and the band of bards slowly drifted to sleep.

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4/8/2024 Update:
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Lord Baldrith here with A humorous story written by our own Sir Stile Teckel!  Well, it gives me a chance to mess around with voices…Hopefully it’s not too bad 🙂

Whistling to himself with a pipe lit in one hand and a mug of ale in the other, Islug walks over to a postal center to check on his deliveries. Upon entering the Postal master gives Islug a dirty look and says “Islug, dam ye, yer taking up all my space, will ye get that delivery outta ere?”

Islug looks to where the man is pointing and sees several large bundles. Quickly draining his mug and clipping it to his belt, dumping his pipe and sticking it in a pouch he grabs the packages and runs off in obvious glee. The postal master shakes his head “Wonder what the bloody ell that was about?”

A few moments later Islug is in a crafting hosue ripping open bundles and grinning “Ye outdid yerself Lika, this is fantastic!”

Looking around Islug spots Minstril at work at shouts over at her “Min, ye ave those dyes I asked fer?”. She stops what she is working on and brings over several large bottles and hands them to Islug with a slight smirk. Islug glares at her “What ye grinning bout lass?”.

“Oh nothing Islug, just wondering when you will be able to make that stuff on your own? Also, I mentioned a pay raise?”

Muttering Islug responds “I am not this good yet! An as far as yer raise….” Islug glances at the dyes and continues “Olive? We’ll talk about yer salary increase when ye can get me the blacks, whites, and Royal Purple’s I asked ye fer!” Then ignoring the Alchemist Islug begins dumping the new armor into dye tubs and adding Olive dye.

Once the armor is dry, in his excitement Islug runs over to a mirror and beings stripping his current armor off and putting on the new pieces. Once finished he begins turning and modeling it in the mirror. A moment later all work stops in the hall as Islug begins yelling at the mirror “Y’AH WHOS THE MAN? EH? WHOS THE MAN? LOOK AT YE IZZY LAD, YER THE MAN, THATS RIGHT, YER THE MAN!!! GO OUT AN SHOW EM WHO THER DADDY IS IZZY! TIME TA KICK SOME ARSE AND TAKE NAMES!!” This is punctuated with various Fist pumps and poses.

As he turns away from the mirror the smile quickly drops from his face as he realizes the craft house has gone silent and nearly fifty people are staring at him, work having come to a stand still. Turning very red Islug points to a random direction and yells “DRAGON!!”, then quickly, runs from the house with all eyes following him.

Later that night, in the tavern Islug is heard telling a story with his pipe waving through the ear punctuating each sentence “That’s right I tell ye! Dragon in the crafting house! Must’ve been twenty foot tall and spitting flames all about it! So I was there try’n ta intimidate it by tell’n it I was a superior fight’r an all. Meanwhile everyone in the blasted place is star’n at me like I’d gone nuts! Ye think they’d pay better attention ta a Dragon creep’n bout. So I got it ta chase me with some insults and ran it outta the place!”