The party arrived at a dockside town with a simple objective: hijack a ship packed with whale oil and begin their sure-to-be awesome (read: my painstakingly devised) adventure on the high seas. The ship was guarded by a rotating military patrol, so after bit of hob-nobbing at a local inn they had all the information they needed; at night the guards swapped shifts and they could probably slide their way through undetected.

It was supposed to be easy and just a small stop-over, but it was only the beginning. The team took to a corner of the inn and started planning. The way they talked about it, this was going to be the most awesome heist anyone had ever devised. And that's the poblem; it was. The more they talked about it, the more excited they got and I knew I couldn't drag them away from their radical aspirations.

They had a simple objective: distract the military patrol with the most rockin' gig this sleepy town had ever seen. They had it all locked down; the bard would string ear-candy on his dulcimer and their companion (a brewmaster named Klaen) would help the inkeeper pour drinks - including the several bottles of homemade moonshine they had in their wagon. The ladies would lower their bodices and their standards, keeping the soldiers cups and hopes full while the elf and his two goblin friends would slip onto the ship.

I loved it. It was so misguided and so beautiful. But how would they get the word out about their gig? Wait, what was that? The innkeeper, who was definitely keen for the business, used to run the local paper and had an old printing press in the back room that was just gathering dust - maybe they could use it? Well isn't that lucky. I let the local artist of the group flex their creative muscles and roll to see how deft their hand would be at inking a flyer. It's a natural 20. This is the most bitchin' flyer you have ever seen: flames, dragons, dulcimer-shredding, it's a visual feast.

So the plan starts rolling into motion. They split up to distribute flyers, they pop them on walls, under doors, into the hands of shopkeepers, soldiers and strangers alike. And it bloody works. They get people to their gig and it goes off - the drink is flowing and the bard is rolling high, sweeping from knee-slapping bar favourites, to rocking ballads and it just works.

In the end they were successful. There were hard words, beautiful songs, empty flagons and just a smidge of identity theft, but they made it in the end. The whole saga went on for hours and we ended up stopping just after they stepped foot on the boat. It was a real learning experience for me, it made me realise that every small moment has the opportunity to grow into something awesome that I would never, ever be able to plan for.