The Sky-Pirates of Avaline
Session 1 – 3/1/2026
Session 2 – 3/29/2026
Session 3 – 4/19/2026
The party crowds around a cluttered tavern table, buried in character sheets, dice, and pencils, riding the chaotic high of leveling up. Thunck beams as he proudly marks down his expanded powers, while Kubo quietly points to an impressively high stat like it speaks for itself. Luna, naturally, is reading her sheet upside down with delighted confidence, and Raven—already one step ahead—is in the process of quietly acquiring a sheet that isn’t his. Through the tavern window, a floating duke’s mansion drifts above the city, a reminder that their next adventure is already looming.
In a moment that somehow counts as “business,” Gerald sits upright across a massive desk, every tentacle carefully arranged as he negotiates with intense seriousness over a modest pile of coins. The duke, dressed in elaborate finery, leans back with theatrical arrogance, while Luna sits beside him translating Gerald’s gestures into increasingly strained whispers. Behind them, an assistant dutifully records the exchange with the hollow expression of someone who has seen too much. The whole scene plays like a high-stakes negotiation—if one party weren’t a deeply earnest landsquid.
What began as a simple stop has devolved into total chaos inside a tightly packed potion shop. Thunck has climbed a rolling ladder he absolutely should not be on, reaching for something just out of grasp, while Luna enthusiastically shakes a potion that is seconds away from disaster. Kubo stands near the entrance, somehow holding multiple baskets of items he never meant to pick up, unsure how he got here. Meanwhile, Gerald leaves a trail of ink across the floor as the shopkeeper pinches the bridge of her nose, silently questioning every life decision that led to this moment. Behind her, a single jar labeled DO NOT OPEN sits ominously undisturbed—for now.
On a floating cobblestone street, Thunck plants his feet and delivers a single, undeniable command. With a sharp gesture, the word LEAVE blazes into existence in glowing blue magic, hanging heavy in the air. The large, well-dressed hobgoblin—mid-stride and mid-thought—turns and begins walking away without question, his expression blank and obedient. Behind him, his goblin crew stands frozen in stunned confusion, watching their leader calmly exit the situation as if this were always the plan.
At the edge of a busy sky harbor, Gerald reaches a breaking point—and commits fully to it. Launching himself off the dock with surprising grace, he arcs through the air, tentacles spread wide before crashing into the water below in a massive, explosive splash. Raven watches from a nearby crate with mild, measured concern, while a group of goblin enforcers near a battered airship momentarily lose track of whatever they were doing. It is unclear if this was strategy, escape, or protest—but it was decisive.
On the deck of a small airborne vessel, combat breaks out in the most confusing way possible. Gerald becomes a blur of motion, tentacles wrapping decisively around a single goblin who has no idea what’s happening to him. The remaining goblins freeze, caught between panic and disbelief, unsure whether to intervene. At the helm, the ship’s grizzled captain watches with weary resignation, gripping the wheel like a man who has long since stopped asking questions.
In the quiet glow of a lantern-lit mining camp, a small gnome named Pib crouches down with immediate and unmistakable delight, meeting Gerald eye to eye. Gerald, as always, responds with composed seriousness, blinking slowly as if acknowledging an equal. Nearby, Luna watches with a soft, approving smile. Behind them, the massive form of Driftstone Peak looms against the night sky, its faint glow contrasting with the warm, gentle lights of the camp.
Driftstone Peak dominates the sky—an immense, jagged floating island carved with ancient ruins that pulse faintly with orange light. Beneath it, wooden scaffolding and mining platforms cling precariously to the rock, forming a fragile network of industry and ambition. In the foreground, a smaller floating island hosts a bustling gnome mining camp, its lanterns glowing like a constellation in the dark. A lone airship docks nearby, dwarfed by the scale of the world above it.
Chaos erupts under cold moonlight as giant spiders descend upon the mining camp. Gnomes are carried off in their grasp, while Thunck—fully cocooned in thick webbing—looks more offended than afraid. Raven, partially restrained but still determined, hurls a dart with practiced precision. At the center of it all, Gerald has somehow engaged a spider several times his size, locking onto it with unwavering commitment. Lantern light flickers across the scene, catching moments of panic, bravery, and utter absurdity.
As morning light spills across the camp, relief replaces chaos. Pib moves from one adventurer to the next, gripping their hands with heartfelt gratitude, while a crowd of gnomes gathers behind him, smiling and visibly at ease. Gerald receives gentle pats on the head from an awestruck gnome, accepting the attention with polite tolerance. In the background, the fallen forms of the defeated spiders lie among the mining tools—a quiet reminder of the night before and the unlikely heroes who saw it through.