Spela rollspel med en AI?

[Faehrengaust]

Testade också snabbt. Chockerande bra, men presenterar mest klichéer, hittills.

Jag har också bara testat en kort bit. Äventyret började mycket klassiskt med ett uppdrag från ett värdshus. Skulle undersöka en försvunnen karavan. Men rätt snabbt så blev det en twist genom att uppdragsgivaren visade sig vara en slemmig typ (även det kliché visserligen) som lett mig till en organisation av slemmiga typer. Så nu är äventyret mer inriktat på att ta reda på organisationen och försöka lista ut vad de är ute efter än att nita monstret (även om det också behöver göras).

Inget superäventyr, men inte dåligt heller, jag har definitivt spelat (och spelledit) sämre i mina dar. Det finns många riktningar det kan leda åt.

 

[Caligo]

En god vän lät Chat GPT vara spelledare i en politisk solokampanj med brottssyndikat som utspelades i och omkring Waterdeep.inga regler utan bara story. Funkade enligt uppgift jättebra. Blev väl lite samberättande nästan om jag förstod det korrekt. Att blanda in regler känns kontraproduktivt.

 

[Faehrengaust]

En god vän lät Chat GPT vara spelledare i en politisk kampanj med brottssyndikat som utspelade sin i och omkring Waterdeep.inga regler utan bara story. Funkade enligt uppgift jättebra. Blev väl lite samberättande nästan om jag förstod det korrekt.

Ja, jag får känslan av att ChatGPT hakar på det jag säger. Jag har en känsla av att det skulle blivit annorlunda om jag gått på och kört hack-and-slash. Nu har jag valt att spela på ett sätt som pekar på att det är Organisationen som Fienden och ska undersökas och det verkar som att ChatGPT hänger med på det spåret. Jag har medvetet testat att helt undvika strid och bara försöka undersöka, samla information och försöka få andra aktörer att utföra allt farligt (stadsvakten ska fånga skurkarna, inte jag!). Det har funkat än så länge.

Dock är det så att ChatGPT har trasslat in sig lite i intrigerna. Det har uppstått lite logiska missar där vissa NPC vet saker de omöjligtvis skulle kunna veta. Speciellt så verkar alla veta vilka personer jag pratat med. Den verkar inte riktigt kunna sära på vad varje NPC borde känna till eller inte känna till.

Det är intressant att du nämner Waterdeep för jag har haft väldigt mycket Baldurs Gate vibbar av äventyret.

Men om jag skulle ta äventyret och lägga på lite "mänsklig" hand på det hela så skulle det lätt kunna bli ett toppenbra äventyr. Verkligen bra verktyg för att skapa/förbereda äventyr! Man spelar igenom det själv och sedan moddar man det så att det blir lite mer anpassat för gruppen/världen/kampanjen. Hur praktiskt som helst om man har brist på bra idéer! (vilket iof antagligen inte är ett problem för de flesta här, ni är nog som jag och har mer äventyrsidéer än vad ni har möjlighet att spela).

Om jag väljer att inte nämna färdigheter så blir det nästan tärningslöst. Har bara slagit 3 slag under äventyret (och då har jag alltid angett 14 med gissningen att det är typ "take 10" + lite skill ).

En nackdel med prompten är att den inte alls tar hänsyn till min rollperson. Det kanske går att lägga till. Jag har ingen som helst bild av min rollperson, det är bara någon som får 14 på alla slag

 

[Magnus Seter]

Ja, jag får känslan av att ChatGPT hakar på det jag säger.

Samma här. Mitt "äventyr" började vid en grotta, och jag gissade direkt att det var en drake i grottan och det var det ... eller ja, nedan hittar ni mitt korta äventyr.

Spoiler: AI som SL

The scent of damp earth and old stone fills the air as you step forward. You find yourself standing at the mouth of a cavern, its jagged entrance framed by gnarled roots and hanging vines. The sound of dripping water echoes from within, mixing with the distant chirping of unseen creatures. A faint, flickering glow emanates from deeper inside, barely illuminating the rough stone walls lined with strange, glowing fungi.
Beyond the entrance, a narrow passage leads downward, its path uneven and treacherous. The chill in the air suggests that this cavern has been undisturbed for a long time—perhaps too long. Somewhere in the depths, you swear you hear a low, guttural growl.
What do you do?

You said:
Maybe there's a dragon in there?

ChatGPT said:
Perhaps. The growl was deep, resonant—too large for any common beast. The air carries the faint scent of sulfur, mingling with the damp stone. If a dragon does dwell here, it has made this cavern its lair, hidden from the world above.
But is it sleeping? Watching? Waiting?
The passage ahead winds downward, disappearing into the gloom. The flickering light could be firelight—perhaps from the creature itself. Or maybe it's something else entirely.
What do you do?

You said:
I light a torch and proceed into the cave.

ChatGPT said:
As you strike flint to steel, the torch flares to life, casting flickering shadows along the cavern walls. The warm glow reveals more of the passage—a rough, uneven tunnel carved by time and water, leading downward into darkness. The glow of the strange fungi pulses faintly, their eerie blue-green light contrasting with your torch’s warm orange flame.
The growl you heard earlier is gone now, replaced by the distant sound of dripping water and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures scurrying away from your light. The air grows warmer as you descend, and that faint scent of sulfur lingers, stronger now.
After a short walk, the passage opens into a larger chamber. Stalactites hang from the ceiling like jagged teeth, and the ground here is uneven, littered with bones—some old and brittle, others disturbingly fresh. Across the chamber, a tunnel slopes downward, deeper into the unknown. A glint of something metallic catches your eye near a pile of bones.
What do you do?

You said:
I search the pile of bones.

ChatGPT said:
You step cautiously toward the pile, the torchlight casting long shadows over the scattered remains. As you sift through the bones, the scent of charred flesh lingers in the air—some of these were burned.
Among the remains, you find a rusted helmet, half-melted as if exposed to intense heat. A broken sword lies nearby, its blade blackened and warped. But there, partially buried beneath a larger ribcage, you spot something more promising—a small, ornate chest, no larger than a breadbox. The metal bands reinforcing it are tarnished, but the lock remains intact.
Just as your fingers brush the chest, a sudden clatter echoes through the chamber. A loose bone rolls away, disappearing into the tunnel ahead. The sound of shifting movement follows—a low, scraping noise, as though something large is stirring.
What do you do?

You said:
I keep as quite as I can, and try to hide among the bones.

ChatGPT said:
You take a slow, steady breath and lower yourself into the pile of bones, trying to blend in with the remains. The scent of old decay fills your nostrils as you press yourself down, careful not to make a sound. Your torch, now snuffed out, leaves you in near darkness, save for the faint glow of the fungi clinging to the cavern walls.
Roll a Stealth check.

You said:
16

ChatGPT said:
You press yourself into the pile, your breath slow and measured. The bones shift slightly beneath you, but you manage to stay silent—just another piece of the grim remains.
The scraping sound grows louder. From the tunnel ahead, something moves into the chamber. You hear the slow, deliberate thud of heavy footsteps, followed by the faint crackle of something smoldering. A low, guttural exhale sends a wave of warm, sulfur-laced air washing over the room.
Through a gap in the bones, you catch a glimpse of a massive, scaled form—a creature moving on all fours, its talons clicking against the stone. A faint glow pulses in its throat, barely visible through the gaps in its plated chest.
A young red dragon.
It sniffs the air once, then again, its slit-pupiled eyes scanning the chamber. It huffs, irritated, but does not seem to have noticed you—yet.
The ornate chest still rests beneath your fingers, tantalizingly close. The dragon shifts, its tail dragging over the stone floor as it prowls closer.
What do you do?


You said:
I try to snatch up the chest

ChatGPT said:
You carefully curl your fingers around the ornate chest, feeling the cool metal beneath your grip. The dragon is close—too close. You wait for the perfect moment, when it turns slightly, its gaze shifting away.
Roll a Sleight of Hand check to see if you can grab the chest without drawing attention.


You said:
12

ChatGPT said:
You slowly lift the chest from the bones, keeping your movements as smooth as possible. The metal clasps creak faintly, but you manage to stifle the noise by gripping it tightly.
For a moment, you think you've gotten away with it.
Then—SNORT.
The dragon's head snaps toward the pile of bones. It sniffs the air, exhaling a small puff of smoke. Its massive golden eyes narrow as it takes a slow step forward.
It knows something is here.
The beast lets out a low growl, shifting its weight as it scans the room. It hasn't seen you yet, but it's suspicious. You can feel the heat rising as its breath intensifies.
What do you do?

You said:
Make a run for towards the entrance.

ChatGPT said:
You tighten your grip on the chest and spring to your feet, bones scattering as you dash toward the passage leading back to the entrance.
ROAR!
The dragon lets out a deafening bellow, its wings flaring wide as it lunges after you. The cavern trembles with its fury, and the temperature spikes as you hear the telltale sound of air being drawn into its lungs.
It’s about to breathe fire.
Roll a Dexterity saving throw to see if you can outrun the flames!

You said:
15

ChatGPT said:
You sprint toward the entrance, your heart pounding as the dragon unleashes a blast of fire behind you. The cavern roars with heat, and for a moment, the walls glow an angry orange. You leap forward just as the flames surge, feeling the searing heat lick at your back—but you manage to avoid the worst of it.
(You take half damage from the fire breath—rolling now.)
The fire singes your cloak and the edges of your armor, but you keep running, pushing through the rising smoke. The dragon roars in frustration, its claws scraping against stone as it gives chase.
The entrance is just ahead—but the beast is fast. If you don’t do something, it may reach you before you escape.
What do you do?

You said:
I try to topple a boulder in its way

ChatGPT said:
You spot a large, precariously balanced boulder near the tunnel’s edge—if you can knock it loose, it might slow the dragon down. Without hesitation, you throw your weight against it, trying to send it crashing into the path behind you.
Roll a Strength (Athletics) check!

You said:
15

ChatGPT said:
You plant your feet, grit your teeth, and shove with all your might. The boulder groans against the stone, teetering for a split second before crashing down into the tunnel behind you with a thunderous boom!
Dust and debris explode into the air, and the dragon skids to a halt just before the collapse. It snarls, slamming its claws against the stone, but the passage is now partially blocked, forcing the beast to take another route—or dig through.
You don’t wait to find out which. You sprint toward the cave entrance, the night air just ahead. The scent of fresh wind replaces the acrid sulfur, and within seconds, you burst out of the cavern, escaping into the darkened wilderness beyond.
The ornate chest is still clutched tightly in your hands.
For now, you’ve escaped the dragon’s wrath. But it knows someone stole from it. It won’t forget.
What do you do next?

You said:
Open the chest

ChatGPT said:
You drop to one knee a safe distance from the cavern entrance, still catching your breath. The ornate chest is cool to the touch, its tarnished metal bands glinting in the moonlight. The lock appears old but sturdy—though after everything you just went through, you’re not about to let that stop you.
How do you want to open it? Do you:

1. Try to pick the lock (if you have thieves' tools)?
2. Smash it open with brute force?
3. Examine it closely for traps before proceeding?
4. Something else?

You said:
3

ChatGPT said:
You take a moment to carefully examine the chest, turning it over in your hands and inspecting every detail. The metal bands are worn but still strong, and the lock—while old—doesn’t seem rusted shut. However, something feels off.
As you run your fingers along the edges, you notice tiny runes etched into the metal, barely visible in the dim light. These aren't just decorative—they pulse faintly with arcane energy. This chest is enchanted, likely trapped in some way.
Roll an Arcana check to determine what kind of magic is protecting it!

You said:
15

ChatGPT said:
You study the faint runes, your mind piecing together their purpose. This isn’t just an ordinary magical lock—it’s a warding spell, designed to trigger upon forced entry. Given the faint glow and the lingering aura of heat, you suspect it’s a fire-based trap—likely set to ignite anyone who opens the chest improperly.
Whoever sealed this chest wanted to make sure only the right person could access it—or that anyone else would pay the price.
You have a few options:

1. Disarm the magical trap (Requires a Thieves’ Tools check or Dispel Magic if you have it).
2. Try to open it carefully, hoping to avoid triggering the trap (high risk).
3. Find someone knowledgeable in magic who can safely unlock it.
4. Leave it closed for now and decide later.

What do you do?

You said:
1

ChatGPT said:
You take out your thieves' tools, carefully selecting the right picks and probes to work around the arcane mechanism. Disarming a magical trap is far trickier than a mundane lock—you need precision and a steady hand. One wrong move, and you could end up engulfed in flames.
Roll a Dexterity (Thieves’ Tools) check!

You said:
20

ChatGPT said:
With expert precision, you work your tools around the arcane lock, carefully disrupting the flow of magic. You press against the hidden trigger and feel a slight click—for a brief second, the runes pulse bright red, and heat flares beneath your fingers.
Then—nothing.
The glow fades, the magic dissipates, and the chest is now safe to open.
You exhale, satisfied with your work, and carefully lift the lid. Inside, nestled among dark velvet lining, you find:

• A small, dragon-shaped amulet, carved from obsidian with glowing red veins pulsing inside it. It hums with energy.
• A pouch of gold coins (about 150gp), old but still valuable.
• A rolled-up parchment, sealed with wax. The emblem pressed into the seal looks draconic in nature.

The amulet pulses warmly in your hand. There’s something powerful about it—perhaps it has magical properties. The parchment might reveal more.
What do you do?

You said:
Read the parchment

ChatGPT said:
You break the wax seal and carefully unroll the parchment. The paper is old but well-preserved, written in Draconic script. If you can read Draconic, you recognize the following:
"By the decree of Vaerithyx, Scourge of the Ashen Peaks, this token is granted to those who prove their worth. Let the bearer of this amulet be known as kin—until they betray the blood."
At the bottom, a clawed signature marks the page, along with a faint trace of magic.
If you don’t read Draconic, the script looks harsh and jagged, like it was scratched into the parchment rather than written normally. You’ll need to find someone to translate it.
The amulet pulses slightly in your hand again. Whatever this is, it’s linked to a dragon, possibly the one you just escaped from.
What do you do next?

You said:
Go back to town

ChatGPT said:
You carefully tuck the amulet, parchment, and gold into your pack and set off toward town, putting as much distance as possible between yourself and the dragon’s lair.
The journey takes a few hours, the cool night air refreshing after the suffocating heat of the cavern. Eventually, the torchlit walls of the town come into view. The gates are still open, with a few guards keeping watch, their armor glinting in the dim light. The streets are quieter at this hour, save for the occasional merchant closing shop or a tavern spilling out laughter and music.
You’ve made it back safely, but the question remains—what now?
Do you:

1. Head to a magic expert (perhaps a wizard or scholar) to identify the amulet and parchment?
2. Sell some of the treasure you found, getting some extra gold?
3. Visit the tavern, relax, and maybe gather rumors about dragons?
4. Report to someone about what you found?
5. Something else?

Det som direkt slår mig är att jag inte valt yrke/klass eller släkte eller nått sånt. Det får växa fram under "spelet" så att säga. Men jag skulle nog först vilja skapa en rollperson, som sedan är den som AI:n använder, istället för att ge mig olika val, det blir väldigt soloäventyrsspel.

Och ja, jag fuskade med tärningsslagen.

 

[Caligo]

Det finns en begränsning på antal tokens/ord vilket gör att ain förr eller senade glömmer av saker. Nog bra att se till att spela med det i åtanke.

 

[Magnus Seter]

Det finns en begränsning på antal tokens/ord vilket gör att ain förr eller senade glömmer av saker. Nog bra att se till att spela med det i åtanke.

Precis som när jag är spelledare! Läskigt!

 

[Badmojo]

Några punkter jag hade velat ha med AI:

• • Genererar kartor
• • Visar kartor
    • Fog of war

Inte kartor, men när vi testspelade ett äventyr (skrivet av mig) i vintras, så ville en spelare testa att scanna av några miljöbeskrivningar, dvs ren text från äventyret, av "större scener" och genererade då snabbt några habila AI-bilder, om än "inspirerade" av högfantasy/D&D:s visuella manér (som jag antar är defaultläget). Typ: en större gillesal med några tuffa typer stående med dragna vapen osv.

Kanske underlättar sådant för spelare som har svårt att visualisera i "sinnenas salong" eller har en liten dipp efter pizzan?

Jag blev ändå lite imponerad av att mina kortare beskrivningstexter begreps så pass bra av AIn att de omedelbart kunde återges som en fungerande bild. Skall be att testa nästa gång om en mer fritt muntligt (jag läser inte innantill) återgiven och beskriven situation uppfattas så bra av AI också att den blir "rätt".

 

[Badmojo]

Precis som när jag är spelledare! Läskigt!

I en inte alltför avlägsen framtid kan nog AIn börja hallucinera och få hitta på fritt när spelarna får feeling och kraschar äventyrets "tänkta" plot helt med något infall... huh.

 

[Badmojo]

Möjligt att det redan avhandlats i tråd eller tidigare, men om spelarna skulle få interagera med en (för äventyret framtagen) AI-styrd npc, som agerar arg, ledsen, desperat eller vad som, ljuger om vad den vet, eller sitter på en ledtråd, osv. Det borde väl`kunna funka och underlätta för SL, även om det närmar sig datorspel? Särskilt för SL:s som tycker det är svårt att gestalta npc, leka teater med röster osv? Ibland känner man ju att vissa spelare verkligen vill rollspela mer med en npc än vad som behövs... då skulle man kunna "lämna över " fortsatt rollspelande till spelaren och AIn och foka på övriga i gruppen...

 

[Faehrengaust]

Samma här. Mitt "äventyr" började vid en grotta, och jag gissade direkt att det var en drake i grottan och det var det ... eller ja, nedan hittar ni mitt korta äventyr.

Ditt äventyr blev mycket mer rakt-på-röbetan än mitt Det beror nog som sagt på hur man själv spelar.

Spoiler: Äventyret, del 1

ChatGPT sade:
The world is dark, save for the flickering glow of lanterns lining the rain-slicked cobblestone streets. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and distant woodsmoke. You stand in the heart of Black Hollow, a frontier town built on the edge of the Veilwood—a vast, ancient forest whispered to be cursed.

The streets are quiet, save for the occasional murmur from shadowed doorways and the distant clang of a blacksmith’s hammer. A notice board near the Rusted Stag tavern is pinned with weathered parchment, some torn by the wind. One in particular catches your eye:

"Seeking able hands for a dangerous task. Coin offered. Discretion required. Inquire within."

A cold wind howls through the alleyways. The night is young. What do you do?

Du sade:
Take the parchment. Enter the tavern. Trying to look imposing.

ChatGPT sade:
You rip the parchment from the board, the damp paper rough between your fingers. Pushing open the heavy wooden door of the Rusted Stag, you're met with the warmth of a roaring hearth and the low murmur of conversation. The scent of ale, roasted meat, and damp wool fills the air.

Heads turn as you step inside. A few drinkers size you up—some with wary glances, others with amusement. At the far end of the room, a hooded figure sits alone, watching you over the rim of a tankard. The bartender, a burly dwarf with a scar across his cheek, raises an eyebrow.

"Newcomer, eh? You look like you've got business. What'll it be?"

Roll an Intimidation or Performance check to see how imposing you appear.

Du sade:
14

ChatGPT sade:
The room takes notice, but no one seems truly shaken—just wary. A few patrons glance away, uninterested in trouble, while others smirk, unimpressed but willing to see what you do next. The bartender lets out a short chuckle, shaking his head.

"Seen tougher," he mutters, wiping a mug. "But you've got presence, I'll give you that."

The hooded figure at the far end, however, remains still, eyes shadowed beneath their cowl. A hand rests on the table near an untouched dagger.

The parchment in your hand crinkles slightly. You sense this might be the one who posted the notice. What do you do?

Du sade:
Throw down the parchment on the table in front of the hooded figure and sit down in front of him. Putting up my boots on a nearby bench

ChatGPT sade:
The parchment lands with a soft slap on the rough wooden table. The hooded figure doesn’t flinch, merely tilting their head slightly as you drop into the seat. Your boots thud against the nearby bench, earning a side-eye from a passing barmaid but no immediate protest.

Beneath the hood, you catch a glimpse of sharp features—pale skin, a hint of a scar along the jaw. The figure exhales slowly, then speaks in a low, measured tone.

"So. You think yourself capable." A gloved finger taps the parchment. "This job isn’t for the faint-hearted. There’s a lost caravan deep in the Veilwood, and what took it wasn’t bandits."

They lean forward slightly. "Still interested?"

Du sade:
"Depends on the pay"

ChatGPT sade:
The hooded figure smirks, the flickering firelight catching on the edge of their scar. "Straight to business. I respect that."

They reach into their cloak and slide a small pouch across the table. It clinks softly—coin, though not much. "Half now, half when the job’s done. Ten gold in total."

Leaning back, they add, "But coin’s not the only reward. The Veilwood hides things… things worth more than gold to those who know where to look."

Their gaze sharpens. "So, do we have a deal?"

Du sade:
I stand up and say: "Ten gold might by you a common thug"

ChatGPT sade:
The figure doesn’t react immediately, simply letting the silence stretch between you. Then, with a slow, measured movement, they retrieve the pouch of coins and tuck it away.

"A fair point," they say, voice calm. "Perhaps I misjudged your worth."

They stand as well, now nearly eye level with you. "What price, then, would buy your skills? Name it, and I’ll decide if you’re worth that much."

Du sade:
20 gold

ChatGPT sade:
The hooded figure studies you for a long moment, then gives a small nod. "Twenty it is. Ten now, ten when the job is done."

They pull out the pouch again, this time setting it down with a bit more weight. Another five gold joins the pile, bringing the advance to ten. "The lost caravan belonged to a merchant named Orlan Vess. He was transporting something… unusual. His guards are missing. No bodies were found."

Their voice lowers. "Something took them. Something from the deep woods. Find out what, and bring back anything of value. If Orlan is alive, even better."

They extend a gloved hand. "We have a deal?"

Du sade:
Shake the hand and say: "Deal. Where can I find this Orlan Vess, I would like to ask him a few questions."

ChatGPT sade:
The figure’s grip is firm, their glove rough against your palm. As they release your hand, they shake their head slightly.

"That’s the problem—Orlan is missing, along with the caravan. Last seen heading west along the old trade road into the Veilwood, three days ago. No word since."

They glance toward the tavern door. "If you want information, talk to the scouts at the watchtower on the western edge of town. They saw the caravan pass."

With that, they step back, pulling their hood lower. "Find Orlan, find what he was carrying, and try not to end up like the last poor fool who went looking." They turn toward the door, pausing only briefly. "The woods don’t like strangers."

Then, without another word, they slip into the night.

What do you do?

Du sade:
Walk to the watchtower on the western edge of the town

ChatGPT sade:
You step out of the Rusted Stag into the cold night air. The rain has lessened to a fine mist, clinging to your clothes as you make your way west. The streets are quiet, save for the distant howl of some unseen creature beyond the town’s walls.

The watchtower stands tall at the town’s edge, a wooden structure reinforced with iron bands. A pair of torches burn at its base, casting flickering light on the two scouts stationed there—one leaning against a post, the other perched on a barrel sharpening a dagger.

The first scout, a wiry human with a patchy beard, looks up as you approach. "Late night stroll, or do you have business?" he asks, eyes narrowing.

What do you say?

Du sade:
"Looking for information about Orlan Wess caravan that passed here."

ChatGPT sade:
The bearded scout exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. "Orlan Vess? Yeah, I remember his caravan. Passed through three days ago. Big wagon, couple of mules, and five guards. Seemed in a hurry."

The second scout, a half-orc woman with a scarred lip, looks up from her dagger. "Didn’t like the look of the woods," she adds. "Can’t blame them. Something’s been… off lately. The birds stop singing past the first mile. Feels like the trees are watching."

The bearded scout nods. "They took the old trade road west. We warned them to stick to the path. No one’s seen them since." He squints at you. "You planning to go after them?"

Du sade:
"Yes. Has there been other travellers on the road in the last days"

ChatGPT sade:
The bearded scout shakes his head. "Not since Orlan’s lot. Most folk avoid the Veilwood unless they’ve got no other choice."

The half-orc taps her dagger against the barrel. "A trapper came back two nights ago, though. Said he heard something moving in the trees—big, too heavy to be wolves. Smelled something rotten on the wind. Didn’t stick around to see what it was."

The bearded scout frowns. "If you’re heading in, be careful. Stay on the road, and if you hear whispers in the dark? Don’t answer."

The firelight flickers, casting long shadows. The road west waits. What do you do?

Du sade:
Ask the guards: "Where can I find this trapper"

ChatGPT sade:
The half-orc tilts her head toward the northern part of town. "Old man named Bram. Lives in a shack near the tannery. Doesn’t like visitors, but if you knock loud enough, he might talk."

The bearded scout smirks. "Might cost you a drink, though. Bram’s got a fondness for blackberry brandy."

The mist thickens slightly around the watchtower, the town behind you quiet in the night. If anyone knows more about what’s lurking in the Veilwood, it’s likely Bram.

What do you do?

Du sade:
Go to a nearby tavern to buy a bottle of blackberry brandy

ChatGPT sade:
You make your way back into town, the dim lanterns casting long, flickering shadows across the wet cobblestones. A small, weathered sign ahead reads The Hollow Hearth—a quieter tavern than the Rusted Stag, known more for its drink than its crowd.

Inside, the scent of aged wood and spiced liquor fills the air. A tired-looking barkeep, a middle-aged woman with silver-streaked hair, watches as you step up to the counter. She wipes a glass clean and raises an eyebrow.

"Something strong, or something sweet?" she asks.

Blackberry brandy isn’t exactly common. How do you ask for it?

Du sade:
"Do you have blackberry brandy"

ChatGPT sade:
The barkeep snorts. "Not many ask for that. Bram send you?"

She reaches under the counter and pulls out a dusty bottle with a deep violet liquid inside. "Last one I got. Ain’t cheap—five silver."

She sets it on the counter, watching you expectantly. "You buying?"

Du sade:
Haggle

ChatGPT sade:
The barkeep crosses her arms, eyeing you with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "You think I don’t know what this is worth?" she says, tapping the bottle. "Bram’s the only one who drinks this stuff, and if you’re after him, you need it more than I need to sell it."

She leans in slightly. "Tell you what—make me a fair offer, and I might consider it."

Roll a Persuasion check.

Du sade:
14

ChatGPT sade:
The barkeep drums her fingers on the counter, considering. Finally, she exhales through her nose and gives a small nod.

"Three silver. That’s as low as I go."

She slides the bottle toward you, waiting for payment. "And if Bram gives you trouble, tell him Marga says he still owes me for the last bottle."

Do you pay and take the brandy?

Du sade:
Yes and thank the barkeep for the tip

ChatGPT sade:
You place three silver on the counter, and Marga sweeps them up with a practiced motion. She gives you a small, knowing smirk.

"Good luck with Bram," she says, tucking the coins away. "And watch yourself in those woods."

With the bottle of blackberry brandy in hand, you step back into the cool night air. The tannery district lies to the north, its scent of cured leather faint even from here.

What do you do?

Du sade:
Walk to Brams house

ChatGPT sade:
You make your way north, where the air grows thick with the pungent scent of tanned hides and woodsmoke. The buildings here are smaller, worn from years of neglect. Eventually, you spot a crooked little shack near the edge of the district, its roof patched with old tarps and wooden planks. A single lantern flickers outside, casting a dim glow on the warped door.

From inside, you hear faint movement—someone shifting, a chair creaking. Bram is home.

What do you do?

Du sade:
Knock hard on the door

ChatGPT sade:
You rap your knuckles hard against the weathered door. The sounds inside go still for a moment. Then, after a long pause, heavy footsteps shuffle toward you.

The door creaks open just a crack, revealing a pair of sharp, bloodshot eyes beneath thick gray brows. A gruff voice mutters, "Unless you’re bringin’ me coin or drink, piss off."

The scent of old pipe smoke and damp fur drifts from inside. Bram watches you suspiciously.

What do you do?

Du sade:
Show him the bottle

ChatGPT sade:
Bram’s eyes flick down to the bottle, and his scowl softens—just a little. He sniffs, then opens the door a bit wider. "Well now… that’s a sight for sore eyes."

He steps back, waving you inside with a gnarled hand. The shack is cramped and cluttered, filled with pelts, half-carved wooden figures, and the unmistakable smell of old whiskey. A rickety table sits near the hearth, where embers smolder faintly.

"Alright then," he grunts, lowering himself into a creaky chair. "You didn’t bring that just to be friendly. What do you want?"

He gestures for the bottle. What do you say?

Du sade:
"I'm planning on going looking for Vess caravan. I want to know what I'm up against"

ChatGPT sade:
Bram takes the bottle with a grunt of approval, popping the cork and taking a deep swig before wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He exhales sharply, then narrows his eyes at you.

"You got guts, I'll give you that," he mutters. "But you ain't gonna like what I got to say."

He leans forward, voice low. "I was out trapping near the old trade road two nights back. Saw something moving in the trees—big, real big. Too heavy for wolves, too quiet for a bear. Smelled… wrong. Like meat left in the sun too long."

He takes another swig. "Didn’t stay to get a better look. But whatever it was, it ain't natural. And it ain't friendly."

He fixes you with a steady gaze. "You still sure you wanna go pokin’ around out there?"

Du sade:
"How have the woods been lately?"

ChatGPT sade:
Bram exhales through his nose, staring into the fire. "Wrong," he mutters. "The Veilwood’s always been eerie, but this past month? Feels off—quieter than it should be. No birds, no chitterin’ critters, just wind through the trees… and sometimes, things movin’ where they shouldn’t be."

He takes another swig of brandy, then sets the bottle down hard. "Tracks show up on the trails, but nothin’ makes ’em. Deep prints, clawed, but no pattern—like somethin’ walkin’ on two legs, then four, then… somethin’ else." He shakes his head. "I know these woods. Whatever’s out there now? It don’t belong."

He looks at you again, eyes sharp despite the drink. "You goin’ in, best keep a fire burnin’ at night. And if you hear whisperin’ in the dark?" He leans back in his chair. "Don’t answer."

What do you do?

Du sade:
"This is the second time somebody mentions whispering. Have you heard whispers?"

ChatGPT sade:
Bram's jaw tightens, and for the first time, he looks uneasy. His fingers drum against the table before he finally nods.

"Aye," he says, voice lower now. "Couple nights back, just before dawn. Thought I was dreamin’ at first—soft voices, right outside my camp. Too many to count, all whisperin’ at once."

He grips the bottle but doesn’t drink. "Couldn’t make out the words, but they were close. I stayed real still, barely breathin’. Then… just like that, they stopped. Sun came up, and there weren’t a damn thing there."

His gaze hardens. "Something’s in them woods, and it don’t mean well."

He leans back, eyes locked on yours. "You still plannin’ on goin’?"

Du sade:
"Yes, but maybe I should scout the woods in daytime first. Interested in following along?"

ChatGPT sade:
Bram snorts, shaking his head. "I may be old, but I ain't stupid." He takes another swig of brandy. "Daylight or not, the Veilwood ain't safe. But if you’re set on goin’, I’ll give you this—"

He reaches over to a nearby shelf and pulls down a small leather pouch. Dropping it on the table, it spills open slightly, revealing dried herbs and a faintly glowing powder. "Burn this in your campfire. Keeps the worst of the forest’s tricks at bay. Won’t stop a beast from tearin’ your throat out, but it might keep the whispers from gettin’ in your head."

He leans back, watching you. "That’s the best you’ll get from me. You want to die in those woods, that’s your business."

What do you do?

Du sade:
Thank Bram and take the pouch.

ChatGPT sade:
Bram grunts as you take the pouch, waving a hand dismissively. "Don’t thank me yet. Just try not to get yourself killed."

As you step outside, the night air feels colder, the mist curling along the ground like grasping fingers. The town is quiet, lanterns flickering dimly against the darkness. The Veilwood looms in the distance, a wall of blackened trees waiting for sunrise.

You have what you need—information, supplies, and a warning you’d be foolish to ignore. Morning will bring your first steps into the unknown.

What do you do next?

Du sade:
How long is it to the woods?

ChatGPT sade:
The Veilwood lies about an hour’s walk west of town along the old trade road. The path is well-worn near the outskirts but becomes more overgrown the deeper you go. By midday, you’d likely reach the spot where Orlan Vess’s caravan was last seen.

If you leave at first light, you’ll have a full day to scout before nightfall.

What’s your plan?

Du sade:
Go to my room and sleep until two hours before dawn. Eat early breakfast and head out so that I arrive at the woods at dawn.

ChatGPT sade:
You find a quiet room at the Rusted Stag, securing your gear before settling in for a few hours of rest. The tavern is silent at this hour, save for the occasional creak of settling wood. Sleep comes quickly, though the thought of Bram’s whispers lingers in the back of your mind.

A few hours before dawn, you rise, gather your things, and head downstairs. The innkeeper offers a simple meal—hard bread, smoked meat, and a boiled egg. It’s enough to keep you going.

With the last stars still fading from the sky, you step out onto the empty streets and begin your journey west. The road is cold beneath your boots, the distant treetops of the Veilwood barely visible against the first light of dawn.

You reach the forest’s edge just as the sun begins to crest the horizon. The trees stand tall and silent, their dark trunks stretching into the misty gloom. No birds sing. No wind stirs the leaves. The Veilwood is waiting.

What do you do?

Du sade:
Walk along the road until I find the caravan. Keeping alert.

ChatGPT sade:
You step onto the old trade road, boots crunching softly on damp earth. The deeper you go, the quieter it becomes—no birds, no rustling leaves, just the sound of your own footsteps. The morning mist clings to the undergrowth, twisting between gnarled roots like ghostly fingers.

About an hour in, you spot the first sign of trouble: a broken wheel lying half-buried in the mud. A few yards ahead, deep grooves in the dirt mark where something heavy was dragged off the road. Scattered footprints—some human, others… less so—crisscross the area.

Then, just beyond a bend in the path, you see it. Orlan Vess’s caravan lies in ruin. The wagon is overturned, one side splintered as if struck by something massive. The mules are gone, only their broken harnesses left behind. Bloodstains mar the ground, but there are no bodies.

The woods are still. Watching.

What do you do?

.

 

[Faehrengaust]

Spoiler: Äventyret, del 2

Du sade:
Investigate the box. Look for traps
ChatGPT sade:
You crouch beside the lockbox, running your fingers carefully along its edges. The metal is cold, slightly dented from the crash, but there are no visible markings or wires that suggest a trap. The lock itself is sturdy but simple—nothing a skilled hand couldn’t pick.

Lifting it gently, you note that it has some weight to it. Whatever’s inside wasn’t taken in the attack.

The woods remain eerily silent, the mist curling around your ankles.

What do you do?

Du sade:
Pick the lock
ChatGPT sade:
You take out your lockpicking tools and get to work. The mechanism is simple but well-made—nothing too difficult for a practiced hand.

Roll a Dexterity (Sleight of Hand) check.

Du sade:
14
ChatGPT sade:
With a few careful twists of your tools, the lock clicks open. The lid creaks as you lift it, revealing the contents inside:

• A leather-bound ledger, its pages filled with handwritten notes and trade records.
• A small velvet pouch containing 15 gold pieces.
• A sealed letter bearing an unfamiliar wax crest—a coiled serpent around a crescent moon.

The ledger might hold clues about Orlan Vess’s last dealings, and the letter could be important. The woods remain unnervingly still, as if watching your every move.

What do you do?

Du sade:
Take the pouch. Open the sealed letter and read it
ChatGPT sade:
You pocket the pouch of gold and carefully break the wax seal on the letter. The parchment is thick, the handwriting precise and formal.




Orlan Vess,

Your shipment must arrive on time. The client is not patient, nor forgiving. Any delays will be your problem, not mine.

Do not take the main roads. Use the Veilwood path—faster, less attention. Avoid unnecessary stops. If anything goes wrong, do not bring trouble back to me.

Deliver the cargo as agreed, and you’ll be paid in full. Fail, and you’ll wish the forest took you first.

—L
The message is blunt, and the wax seal—a coiled serpent around a crescent moon—might give clues about who sent it. The woods remain silent, thick mist shifting between the trees.

What do you do?

Du sade:
Put the letter in my backpack, careful not to damage the seal. Read the last entry from the ledger.
ChatGPT sade:
You carefully tuck the letter into your pack, keeping the seal as intact as possible. Then, flipping through the ledger, you find the most recent entry. The handwriting is rushed, uneven—different from the earlier, neatly recorded transactions.




"Left Black Hollow at dusk. Avoiding main roads as instructed. Cargo secure, but something feels wrong. The men are uneasy. Wilkes swears he saw shapes moving in the trees. Told him it’s just the mist."

"Second night in the Veilwood. The horses are restless. Something howled far off—didn’t sound like wolves. Found strange markings on a tree this morning. Almost like runes, but not any I recognize."

"Third night. Gods help us. The whispers started after sundown. The men are seeing things in the dark. Wilkes vanished from his watch—no sign of struggle, no tracks. Just gone. We need to leave."

—Entry ends here.

A cold breeze stirs the mist. The wagon lies in ruin, its passengers missing, and the forest remains deathly quiet.

What do you do?

Du sade:
Investigate the supplies. Anything useful?
ChatGPT sade:
You sift through the scattered supplies, searching for anything useful. Most of the cargo is missing, but you manage to find a few intact items:

• 1 Healing Potion (miraculously unbroken in the wreckage)
• A bundle of torches (six in total, still dry despite the damp air)
• A hunting knife (worn but sharp)
• A small wooden idol (carved with strange runes similar to those mentioned in the ledger)

The idol feels oddly warm to the touch, though that could just be your imagination.

As you kneel in the wreckage, the silence of the forest presses in around you. Then—just at the edge of your hearing—a faint whisper.

Not words. Just sound, carried on the wind.

What do you do?

Du sade:
Take the potion, torches and hunting knife. Investigate the idol
ChatGPT sade:
You pocket the potion, torches, and knife before turning your attention to the wooden idol. It's small, roughly the size of your palm, and carved from dark wood. The strange runes etched into it look weathered but deliberate. The craftsmanship is rough, yet something about it feels… purposeful.

As you examine it, a faint warmth lingers in the wood. Then, for the briefest moment, the runes seem to shimmer—like a trick of the light, or maybe something more.

The whispering sound brushes against your ears again, just barely audible. The mist shifts slightly between the trees.

What do you do?

Du sade:
Pocket the idol. Investigate tracks.
ChatGPT sade:
You tuck the idol into your pack and turn your attention to the tracks around the wreckage.

Most of the footprints belong to humans—likely the caravan guards—but they’re scattered, confused. Some lead toward the trees before vanishing completely. Others show signs of a struggle, deep gouges in the dirt as if someone was dragged away.

Then you spot something else—larger prints, deep and irregular. They start as bipedal but shift midway, as if the creature dropped to all fours. The claw marks are long, unnatural. Whatever made these prints was heavy and not human.

The tracks lead away from the road, disappearing into the misty undergrowth. The whispers are gone now, but the silence is worse.

What do you do?

Du sade:
Could the tracks be made by a werewolf?
ChatGPT sade:
You study the tracks carefully, considering the possibilities. The shifting gait—from two legs to four—is a known trait of lycanthropes, and the deep claw marks suggest something powerful. However, something feels off.

• Werewolf tracks tend to resemble large wolf prints even when shifting, but these have an unnatural, erratic pattern.
• The claw marks are longer than what you'd expect from a werewolf—more like talons than lupine claws.
• The ledger mentioned whispers, and werewolves aren’t known for supernatural mind tricks.

Whatever made these tracks might share some traits with lycanthropes, but it’s likely something else—something stranger.

The trail leads deeper into the Veilwood. Following it might give you answers… or put you face-to-face with whatever tore this caravan apart.

What do you do?

Du sade:
Go back to town
ChatGPT sade:
You turn away from the wreckage and begin the trek back to town, keeping a wary eye on the misty treeline. The silence follows you, heavy and unnatural, as if the forest itself is watching.

The journey feels longer than it should, but eventually, the wooden palisades of Black Hollow come into view. The familiar sounds of distant hammering and muffled conversation replace the eerie stillness of the Veilwood. You step through the gates, the weight of what you found settling in your mind.

The town is waking up, smoke rising from chimneys, merchants setting up their stalls. You have the ledger, the strange letter, and the carved idol. Clues, but no clear answers.

Where do you go next?

Du sade:
I want to find an expert on strange creatures, maybe a wizard
ChatGPT sade:
The best place to find someone knowledgeable in strange creatures would be The Hollow Archive, a modest library near the town’s central square. While Black Hollow isn’t known for its scholars, the archive’s keeper, Master Varlan, is a retired wizard who has spent decades collecting books on folklore, magic, and the unnatural.

Varlan is a sharp-minded, if somewhat eccentric, old man. If anyone in town knows about the thing that left those tracks, it’s him.

Do you head to the archive?

Du sade:
Yes
ChatGPT sade:
You make your way to The Hollow Archive, a squat stone building nestled between the blacksmith and a weaver’s shop. The wooden sign above the door is faded, but the carved eye symbol—a mark of knowledge seekers—remains clear.

Inside, the scent of old parchment and candlewax fills the air. Rows of bookshelves line the walls, stuffed with tomes, scrolls, and loose pages. At a cluttered desk near the back, an elderly man with wild silver hair and half-moon spectacles scribbles furiously in a massive ledger.

Without looking up, he grumbles, "If you're here for love potions or curses, go bother the hedge witches. If you're here for knowledge, state your business."

What do you do?

Du sade:
Tell him about the remains of the caravan, tracks and the whispers and ask what kind of creature it could be
ChatGPT sade:
Varlan stops writing the moment you mention the whispers. Slowly, he sets his quill down and finally looks at you, his sharp gray eyes narrowing.

"Whispers in the Veilwood… and tracks that shift from two legs to four?" He leans back, rubbing his chin. "That rules out simple beasts. Werewolves? No, they don’t whisper. Ghosts don’t leave claw marks. But there are things that do both."

He stands and shuffles toward a shelf, pulling out a thick, dust-covered tome. Flipping through the pages, he stops at an old, faded illustration—a gaunt, elongated creature with twisted limbs and hollow eyes.

"This could be what you're dealing with—'Hollowborn.' Not quite spirits, not quite beasts. They were once people, lost souls claimed by the Veilwood. The forest doesn’t just kill—it keeps things. Changes them. They say those taken never truly die… just become something else."

He taps the page. "They stalk the woods at night, hunting in silence. The whispers? That’s them… calling to you, pulling you in. The moment you answer, you’re as good as theirs."

He closes the book with a thud and looks at you gravely. "If the Veilwood is stirring again, you’re walking a cursed path, my friend."

What do you do?

Du sade:
"What weaknesses does the Hollowborn have?"
ChatGPT sade:
Varlan exhales sharply, rubbing his temples. "That’s the trouble… Hollowborn don’t die easily. They’re not living, not undead—something in between." He flips a few pages in the tome, tracing a gnarled finger over ancient script.

"Fire can drive them back, but it won’t destroy them. Steel can wound them, but not stop them for long." He looks up. "They say their true weakness is the bond that holds them here—whatever curse twisted them in the first place. If you break that, they unravel."

He taps the book again. "Some scholars believe Hollowborn are tied to places of sorrow, old tragedies that linger in the land. Others think they’re bound to objects—totems that keep them tethered to our world." His gaze lingers on you. "Did you find anything unusual at the wreck?"

What do you do?

Du sade:
Show him the idol
ChatGPT sade:
You pull the wooden idol from your pack and set it on the desk. Varlan’s expression darkens the moment he sees it.

"Where did you find this?" he asks, his voice low.

You explain that it was among the wreckage of Orlan Vess’s caravan. Varlan doesn’t touch it. Instead, he grabs a pair of iron tongs from a drawer and carefully lifts the idol, inspecting the runes.

"These markings… they’re not arcane, not druidic either. This is old magic. Binding magic." He sets the idol down, frowning. "If this was at the site of the attack, it might not be a simple trinket. It could be an anchor—something keeping the Hollowborn tied to this place. Or worse, something calling them."

He looks at you seriously. "If this is what I think it is, destroying it might weaken them. Or… it could make things worse. Magic like this rarely unravels cleanly."

What do you do?

Du sade:
"How can it be destroyed?"
ChatGPT sade:
Varlan sighs, adjusting his spectacles. "Destroying a binding like this isn’t as simple as smashing it. If the magic is strong, breaking the object might just release whatever power is trapped inside."

He flips through another tome, scanning for something. "Ah. Here." He turns the book toward you, showing a passage written in tight, faded script.

"To sever a cursed binding, one must unmake it as it was made—through fire, blood, or the will of the bound."

Varlan taps the page. "Fire is the safest bet. If the magic is weak, it’ll burn like any other wood. If it resists, that means the binding is still strong, and something else is needed." He eyes you. "Blood… that usually means the one who created it, or the one it’s bound to. Either way, risky."

He leans forward. "If you want to be certain, find out where this came from. If Orlan Vess had it, maybe he—or whoever hired him—knew what they were dealing with."

He leans back. "So, what’s your next move?"

Du sade:
"Why did the Hollowborn take the corpses of both humans and mules. Does it eat them?"
ChatGPT sade:
Varlan grimaces. "Eat? No. Not in the way you’re thinking." He drums his fingers on the desk, choosing his words carefully.

"Hollowborn don’t hunger for flesh. They take bodies because they need them. The more they claim, the stronger they become. Some say they hollow out the dead, wear them like shells—others think they use the remains to spread their curse, turning the lost into more of their kind."

He exhales. "If they took both men and beasts, that means they’re growing… or preparing for something." He looks at you seriously. "The longer they go unchecked, the worse this will get."

What do you do?

Du sade:
"Do you know anyone that could help in destroying them?"
ChatGPT sade:
Varlan thinks for a moment, then nods. "You’ll need steel, fire, and someone who doesn’t flinch at things that whisper in the dark."

He counts off on his fingers:

• "Bram, the trapper—you already met him. Knows the woods, knows when to keep quiet. He won’t like it, but if you convince him there’s coin in it, he might help."
• "The Blackhollow Watch. Most are just hired blades, but Captain Edric is a veteran. He’s seen things, fought worse. If you can prove the threat is real, he’ll listen."
• "Then there’s Edda. She’s… odd. Lives on the outskirts, deals in charms and old magic. Some call her a witch, but she knows things about curses that I don’t. If this idol is truly bound to the Hollowborn, she might know how to break it."

He looks at you gravely. "Alone, you’ll be outnumbered. But with the right allies? You might just stand a chance."

Who do you seek out first?

Du sade:
I show Varlan the ledger and letter and ask him what he thinks
ChatGPT sade:
Varlan takes the ledger first, scanning the last few entries. His frown deepens as he reads about the caravan’s final nights—the unease, the strange runes, the whispers.

"They knew something was wrong," he mutters. "But they didn’t turn back. Either they were desperate… or too afraid of their employer to risk it."

Then he takes the letter, carefully unfolding it. His eyes narrow at the coiled serpent and crescent moon seal.

"This symbol… I’ve seen it before." He taps a finger on the wax. "It belongs to a group that deals in rare, often dangerous, goods. Smugglers, relic hunters, sometimes worse. If Orlan Vess was working for them, then whatever he was carrying wasn’t just coin and trade goods."

He looks at you. "The client mentioned in this letter—'L'—is the real question. If they wanted this idol moved, they either knew what it was… or they didn’t, and they made a terrible mistake."

Varlan leans back, thoughtful. "This gives you leverage. Captain Edric won’t ignore a smuggler’s trail in his territory. If you can track down who hired Orlan, you might get answers before the Hollowborn grow too strong."

What do you do?

Du sade:
Ask Varlan: "Are the Hollowborn sensitive to sunlight, holy water or silver?"
ChatGPT sade:
Varlan shakes his head. "Sunlight? No. Unlike true undead, Hollowborn don’t burn in daylight. They prefer the dark, but they can endure the sun if they must."

He taps the desk. "Holy water? That depends. If they were born of a curse or dark magic, consecrated water might weaken them—but it won’t destroy them outright like it would a wraith or vampire."

Then, he hesitates at your last question. "Silver… now that’s interesting. Lycanthropes, undead, fey-born curses—many unnatural things recoil from silver because it represents purity, resistance to corruption." He adjusts his spectacles. "If the Hollowborn are bound to something twisted, silver might disrupt them. A silvered weapon wouldn’t be a wasted investment."

He folds his arms. "If you plan to fight them, take fire, steel, and silver. And if you can, find the source of the curse—because until that’s broken, they’ll keep coming back."

What do you do?

Du sade:
Go to captain Edric
ChatGPT sade:
You make your way to Black Hollow's watch barracks, a sturdy timber building near the western gate. Inside, the scent of oiled leather and metal fills the air as a few off-duty guards sharpen blades and dice for coin.

At the back of the room, Captain Edric leans over a table, studying a map. He’s a broad-shouldered man in his late forties, his face lined with experience. His dark hair is streaked with gray, and a heavy longsword rests at his hip. As you approach, he glances up with sharp, assessing eyes.

"You’re the outsider asking about Vess’s caravan, aren’t you?" He leans back in his chair. "Word travels fast in a small town. What did you find?"

What do you do?

Du sade:
"Who told you I was asking about the caravan?"
ChatGPT sade:
Edric smirks slightly. "You think I don’t keep ears on the town? The bartender at The Hollow Cask mentioned you were sniffing around. Then Bram stopped by this morning, looking uneasy. Said you came to him with questions about the woods."

He folds his arms. "I make it my business to know when trouble’s coming. So, I’ll ask again—what did you find?"

What do you do?

Du sade:
"I found the caravan, it has been attacked by Hollowborn. All humans and mules were killed and dragged away. "
ChatGPT sade:
Edric's expression hardens. "Hollowborn." He exhales sharply, rubbing his jaw. "Damn it. I was hoping the rumors were just that."

He stands, pacing slightly. "I've heard stories—vanishings near the Veilwood, travelers going missing. But a full attack on a caravan? That means they’re getting bolder." He stops and looks at you. "You’re certain? Tracks, signs—everything points to Hollowborn?"

His tone has shifted. He’s not dismissing you—he’s weighing the danger.

What do you do?

Du sade:
"I talked to Varlan, he is sure"
ChatGPT sade:
Edric exhales through his nose, nodding. "If Varlan says it’s Hollowborn, I believe it. The old man knows his monsters."

He turns to the map on the table, tracing a finger along the Veilwood’s edge. "If they’re strong enough to take down a caravan, it won’t stop here. Travelers, hunters… even the town could be next." He looks back at you. "You’re not just telling me this for conversation. What do you want?"

What do you do?

 

[Faehrengaust]

Och så vidare.

Det blev för långt för att posta allt.

 

[Girighet]

Personligen tycker jag att det som skapats i de två exempel som postats är helt ok för spelande. Ifall man kan få den att läsa upp det och att man kan tala in vad man gör skulle jag kunna se att man skulle starta upp dem om man är några kompisar med en timme eller tvås tidsfördriv att spela något enkelt.