Episode 15:
Vinetread 2nd thru 7th (21 gp expenses, Sylvia loses 30 gp gambling)-Down Time
-Down Time resolution-(generated through Cities book)
-Garrick-No Event-
-Sylvia-Event-Your “friend” offended someone-Potential Friend is a Merchant (shopkeeper, perfumer 10% discount from here on)-Offended an Aristocrat (rolled Lady Agnes of Rabbit’s Fall)-through some imagined slight-Chooses to defend her new friend, gaining a friend, but incurring Lady Agnes’ wrath-Gambling-wagers 30 gp-I lose it all and am accused of cheating, a contract is put out on me and I have to leave town for 6 weeks or be killed!-
-Ronan-Event-Opportunity to Enlist in the Military-
Thinking we could stay out of trouble at the Green Fox Inn, I obtained lodging for our company and we were there when word came that the force that tried to recruit Ronan to lift the siege at Irongate had returned home. As there was a shortage of lodging in the city, some of the men spilled out into the countryside and an officer once more tried to recruit Ronan, who turned them down.
We also saw a great many merchants come and go. One such merchant was a perfumer named Argus. While Sylvia was examining his wares, being flush with money for the first time in her life, none other than Lady Agnes came past the Inn with her retinue. An eager salesman, Argus insisted that she should purchase some of his wares, and she of course, resented the implication that she smelled foul! She sent a man to put him in his place when Sylvia intervened, stating that it wasn’t her aroma that stank but her arrogance self-righteousness! The guard then ran after her instead. Later that evening, Argus gave her a bottle of perfume in thanks. Later in the week, Sylvia got into a card came with some rough looking locals and did a little too well. Once again, she was accused of cheating, but slipped away as the rest of the table came for her. I packed her things for her, and that night, she snuck in through the window to my room. Next morning, I located a caravan heading north while she slipped back outside and met us two miles north of the inn.
Vinetread 8th
-Pleasant, Cloudy, No Rain, Gentle wind-
-immersion-two sidekicks swearing at each other-
Scene #100:
“You did it again! Did you even, for a second, stop and think that playing cards is what nearly got you killed at Tree Stump? That nearly got Edwin killed! Just when I think you are growing up, you do this!,” Ronan lectures Sylvia as she sheepishly cows beneath his cool rage.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t cheat! I was winning, and they couldn’t handle it. Am I supposed to never play a game at all? It…just…whatever!” Sylvia throws up her hands in frustration as Ronan’s eyes bore into her.
I watch Ronan. Though he doesn’t raise his voice, his anger and disappointment in the girl is clear. I glance at Sylvia, and remember, she is still that same kid she was four months ago deep inside. It is easy to forget.
“It’s done. Let’s get on the road,” I suggest.
“You are going to let this go, aren’t you?” Ronan fixes his gaze on me. “She’s not going to learn. She is going to get herself, or us, killed one of these days.”
“I’m willing to take that chance. Are you?” I reply.
Q: Is Ronan? EXCEPTIONAL NO
“No. Safe travels old friend. You’ll find me with the Black Swans if you ever come to your senses,” He gives Sylvia one last look and shakes his head, “Grow up.” Then he walks towards Firth.
“Ronan!” Sylvia pleads, “I’m sorry! Come back!”
Q: Does he relent? NO
I hold Sylvia’s arm as my friend walks away. I take a deep breath, shake my head, and then start walking north, leading our mule after the caravan.
-Morning Encounter-No Encounter-
-Afternoon-No Encounter-
-Evening-No Encounter-
We travel in silence behind a group of four wagons hauling furs, cloth and pickled herring north. The captain of the group keeps yelling at the oxen to keep the pace. Not that they aren’t. It just seems he’s an ill tempered man. Sylvia and I travel in silence, her leading her mule as it nuzzles against her, sensing her sorrow.
Q: Is Tree Stump reopened? NO
“Damnit! Still closed! What the hell, piss poor kingdom is House Free running here!” shouts the caravan captain, Malik, as Tree Stump Inn comes into view. “Open those gates and get the animals inside the walls! I can’t believe this!” he continues to fume.
“Tent by the side of the road?” I suggest to Sylvia as the caravan guards force the gate open and will soon likely force their way into the inn itself.
“Yeah,” Sylvia whispers sullenly. I pull her close for a moment.
Q: Does she accept? YES
She leans her head against my chest and cries softly for several minutes. I stroke the back of her head until she collects herself. “Let’s get the camp set up.” I suggests, and soon I have the tent up and a fire started whil she tends the animal.
-Survival Roll failed-Encounter-Ogres (likely 1 male, multiple females and children) or Green Dragon wyrmling-Ogres Q: Adult male? EXCEPTIONAL NO (so no adults), 4 children, blow their stealth roll, my shift-Action-Practicing-
I hear the sounds of four men approaching our camp in the dark, I draw and nock an arrow, calling for Sylvia to wake up, “Company!” as I take aim in the dark.
Q: Do they flee? EXCEPTIONAL NO Q: Do they run now? NO
Suddenly, I see a young ogre making a dash for our supply bag, and my arrow sinks deep into its side as I nock another.
There is yelling and screaming from the others, as the one I shot lies still in the dirt and Sylvia emerges from the tent with her bow drawn, firing on one of the shadows in the trees. My second arrow cause that one to collapse to the ground as well.
Q: Now do they flee? NO
A third rushes out, grabs the satchel, and tries to dash back into the woods while the fourth seems to be yelling in encouragement. They are small…not over a dozen years old! And they have our food.
Sylvia’s arrow strikes it square in the back and the kid staggers, then falls as my third arrow strikes it down.
Q: Does the last one flee? NO
The fourth ogre child steps into the light of the fire, fear, tears, anger all at once. Yelling at us, pointing towards its fallen kin. “They’re just kids,” stammers Sylvia in shock.
I put an arrow square in the child’s heart. Then close my eyes in sorrow. “Yes. Starving children. Whose parents probably died in Firth…killing other innocents,” I shudder at the thought.
Checking the fallen, I realize that one is still alive. I carefully open my pouch, and after extracting the arrow, apply Willowmoss to the wound. The ogre’s breathing slowly steadies.
With great effort, Sylvia manages to drag the other three corpses into a pile some distance from the camp. I sit and tend the wounded ogre, Sylvia leans against my side, helping me. We take turns sleeping, sitting there, watching the creature struggle for life.
In the morning, it’s eyes flutter open as I am changing out the bandages. I offer it food and water.
Q: Does it accept? NO
But it knocks it all away and tries to flee, but stumbles at once. I pick up my cup, but leave the food nearby. Then we pack our gear and join the caravan now getting ready to continue its trek north.
Vinetread 9th
-Pleasant-Steady Rain in the evening-gentle wind-
-Immersion, feel something flexible-
Scene #101:
“Is she going to live?” Sylvia looks down at the wounded ogre.
I nod, “Probably. With a nasty scar. And a hatred of me.”
“Terra would kill her,” Sylvia whispers.
I nod in agreement, “Yes. But we won’t. Let Freia be merciful, either in redemption or a quick death in the wild. We can’t take her with us.”
E: Setback to ‘Party travelling north to Oldenfall’: the Attainment of a Rumor
“Gnolls! What do you mean gnolls?” shouts the caravan captain as he and one of his guards are talking to a desperate looking rider whose horse is on the verge of collapse. The three quickly pull the inn gate shut and I hear the crossbeam drop in place.
“Damn it all,” I mutter an immediately start breaking camp. Sylvia hurries to help. “Cross wilds. If they are following the road to raid south, we’ll likely miss them.”
-morning Encounter-Elk-
-Afternoon Encounter-None-
-Evening Encounter-Rodents of Unusual Size-
We quickly pass through brush and into the more open footing beneath the Northwood’s lush canopy. I occasionally bend my bow on hearing something odd or noticing a strange shadow, but we encounter nothing worse than a group of elk and some rather large rats. The forest darkens earlier than expected as clouds thicken, and then spatters of rain begin to fall. We have our tent up before it starts to beat down hard. A cold camp, sharing bread, cheese, nuts, jerky and dried fruit.
“We could have shared,” Sylvia suggests.
I nod in agreement, “I would have. Had they asked. Had they approached. Could have shown them some trade fist. Given them some food. But we couldn’t let them take all of our food. I don’t think that caravan master was willing to share, and it’s not like we can just stop by Rabbit’s Fall or supplies right now, is it?”
Sylvia lets out a laugh, then the dam breaks and she starts to guffaw, “Oh wow! We really stepped in it didn’t we? You busted her lip, and I told her she stank to the core of her soul! No! We can’t go to Rabbit’s Fall again ever!”
I smile at her. Then sigh, “It’s not your fault that Ronan left. It was his choice,”
She takes a deep breath, and responds, “Yes. It is my fault. I did it before. I’ll likely do it again. You… He’s right about me. I don’t learn. You should have gone with him. You’re better off without me.”
I shake my head, “That may be true. But you need me. He doesn’t. Well, not as much anyway. And besides, you’re more interesting anyway.”
Sylvia raises an eyebrow, “How so?” I give a wry smile and shake my head. As it dawns on her what I mean, her jaw drops and eyes widen, “No! You’re so bad!”
Q: Is she flattered? YES Q: Norwegian wood? NO
She grins and sneaks occasional glances at me until it is time for her to retire to the tent while I take first watch. “You…stay out there and keep watch! You hear me?” she insists.
“Yes, Sylvia. I hear you,” I laugh. “Don’t sleep too long! It’s quiet out here.”
-Survival-Pass-no night time encounters-
Vinetread 10th
-Pleasant-Light rain in the morning-inconsequential wind-
-Immersion, hear shouting-Q: humans? NO Q: goblins? NO Q: gnoll? NO (Sylvia perception fail, Garrick’s passes)
Scene #102:
I wake to the sound of screaming some distance away. Climbing out of the tent, I see Sylvia’s eyes straining to detect the source of the sound. “Not close…I don’t think. Doesn’t sound human.” I shake my head, “Nope. Ogre.”
“More lost kids,” Sylvia whispers with a shudder.
I shake my head, “No…sounds like a grown female.”
“We…didn’t kill her kids did we?” Sylvia whispers hoarsely.
“Doubt it. Let’s pack,” I reply and start getting our gear together.
-Our stealth rolls are good enough to beat ogre perception, so…-
We quietly slip away to the northwest, continuing our journey, “How do you know where we are going, exactly?” Sylvia asks.
“I don’t,” I shrug, “But I know that Oldenfall is northwest of Tree Stump Inn. If we come out of the Northwoods into farmland, we’ll ask someone where the keep is and follow the roads. If we come out in the Gnoll Highlands, we’ll go north until we meet the road, then follow it west.”
Sylvia nods, “I guess that makes sense. Like not having to know where a particular alleyway goes, just that it will come out to another street, if you don’t get cornered in a dead end.”
“Very few dead ends in a forest, but yes. Like that,” I agree.
-Morning Encounter-Hunters/Foresters-5 hunters-
As we are moving through the woods, a group of five men with bows draw on us and start talking in a foreign tongue.
Holding up my hands, I explain that we are just passing by. Sylvia steps behind her mule for cover.
They stare at me without comprehension, so I sling my bow and sign that I am seeking lodging. Travelling.
-Persuasion 20-
The man makes signs for hides, and I shake my head “no.” Then for meat, and again I repeat. Then he signs me onward and out two companies pass each other by. Studying the men as we pass, I can see they are simply hunters, bows and knives, a couple of belted hatchets. No swords, clubs or battleaxes.
-Afternoon Encounter-inexplicable frost-
Around midday, while we are breaking for lunch, Sylvia asks, “Who were those men?”
“Hunters, I’d guess. If they were bandits, they’d have taken us. Likely from Oldenfall given the language,” I observe.
“I think we could have taken them. If we had to,” Sylvia replies, then looks down, “Well, maybe not without Ronan anymore.”
I nod, “Perhaps. No gain from it.”
“No. No gain from it,” Sylvia agrees, “Just stupid bloodshed.”
Suddenly, there is a chill in the air and a layer of frost forms across the ground, sweeping past us from the north to the south. The frost melts away just as quickly.
“What was that?” Sylvia stammers in disbelief.
I am on my feet with an arrow nocked, “No idea. Let’s move.”
Sylvia is also on her feet and we are quickly continuing our journey and are soon travelling uphill through an increasingly sparse forest. As the canopy breaks, more undergrowth appears, and soon we are following game trails through scrub, and then…we are looking down upon a vast grassland and see a ruined city in the distance before us and the old broken highway running through it.
“We’ve been there before, right?” Sylvia asks.
I nod, “Yes. We’ll be there by nightfall, and if all goes well, in Bleakband tomorrow night.”
Sylvia considers this, “We got lucky in those ruins twice. Maybe we should camp here in the treeline, with cover, and then doubletime tomorrow?”
I consider this for a bit, then suggest, “It’s just the two of us and a mule. I think we can make the journey keeping our usual pace,” then I start setting camp.
-Afternoon Encounter-(Survival 24)-Cultists 6- (Stealth 6)
While Sylvia is at camp, tending the mule, I start hunting and foraging, and soon have a pair of fat hares, and a small pouch worth of blackberries. Then I spot them, a group of men and women in a campsite less than a mile from ours. As I observe them, I happen to loose my footing, and they turn to see me crashing through a large bush.
Q: Any leaders? NO (140 feet)
“Kill the infidel!” one of the men shouts.
I nock and fire an arrow. It punches through his throat, and he gargles out a strangled cry of agony as he falls to the ground. The rest charge towards me!
(80 ft) My second shot misses, and I clamber back up the slope away from them.
(110 ft-60 ft=50 ft)
Hearing them closing, I turn and fire a third shot, striking a man through the eye. Then I drop my bow and draw steel.
The remaining fanatics charge at me, but I gut the first man to reach me before he can react. Then the remaining three are on me, and I am fighting for my life. A nick here, a bruise here and then…I am catching my breath standing over four corpses in the forest. I clean my weapons and search the men, collecting an assortment of copper and silver coins, serpent pendants, a simple gold ring, a gold bracelet, and a nice looking gold ring with a red and white striped transluscent stone in it. I then check out their camp. Serpent pendants
Q: any livestock? NO Q: any valuables? NO
Other than some mundane supplies, they have nothing of value, so I return to Sylvia and the camp.
“Trouble?” her eyes shift from the hares in my belt to the cut on my arm. “They put up an unusual fight, I guess?”
I shake my head, “Nope. Serpent cultists. Probably fleeing Feldholm given they spoke Kardashan.”
“Great,” Sylvia mutters, “So if they end up causing trouble in Oldenfall, we’ll be blamed. Countrymen and all.”
I yawn, “Yeah, that will save you from having to cause trouble.”
“Hey!” she snaps, then rolls her eyes, “You’re terrible.”
I shrug. “I suppose.”
We start a small cooking fire some distance from our camp under shelter and I prep the hares, then smother the fire and return with a fresh meal for us both.
-Night-Pass Survival check-no encounter-
11th Vinetread
-Pleasant, clear skies, solid breeze-
-Smell Oil-
Scene #103: E: Positive for Gnoll: the Creation of Danger
I wake to an unfamiliar scent. Sticking my head out of the tent, I realize it is from Sylvia, “What’s that?” I ask, seeing her holding a small bottle and dabbing a bit of the liquid from it under her jawline. “Something Argus gave me. Like it?” I nod, “Smells nice. And I could smell it from inside the tent. I hope nothing wants to track us today.” Sylvia’s eyes widen, “Oh, crap. Wasn’t thinking…sorry.” she cringes.
-Morning Encounter-Roll twice, if I get an actual encounter, it will be gnolls due to the stupid perfume stunt and the Scene Event-“Get Lost” mishap—not an actual encounter–
We make our way quickly down from the hillside and towards the gnoll infested ruins, if Tor is to be believed. Approaching from the south, east instead of the northeast, we are soon lost in the maze of ancient dilapidated buildings and the maze o broken alleyways.
-Survival 21-(first lost hourly roll, no encounter)-
We get turned around for a bit, but with the sky overhead giving me a direction, and Sylvia’s familiarity with back streets and alleyways, we make our way through the ruins without too much difficulty, perhaps losing an hour of time. Soon we are back on our way.
-Afternoon-No Encounter-
-Evening-No Encounter-
As the sun sets below the horizon, Sylvia and I urge the mule towards the lights of Bleakband. Soon we are passing through freshly plowed farmland and towards the village’s wooden palisade. I hail the guard on the wall, as the gate is already closed.
Q: Does he know Kardashev? NO Q: Unlock the gate? EXCEPTIONAL NO
He peers down at us, unsure of what we are saying, then he signals that we should go away.
“Wow! Really? The wilds behinds us, and he won’t open up just because it’s after dark?” Sylvia fumes.
I nod, “That’s the way it goes.” I lead the mule around the outside of the village, the guard watches and he calls to another fellow. Soon I see a second guard on the palisade, walking parallel to us, keeping an eye on us. I call up to him, “Mind letting us in? Really don’t want to camp outside tonight.”
Q: Does this one speak Kardashev? YES
“Sergeant said nobody enters after dusk,” the man replies in a thick Norgardian accent. “How did you cross the highlands alone?”
“Through the Northwoods,” I reply, “Ran into some cultists though,” I throw one of the pendants up to him. He easily catches it and looks it over.
Q: Has he seen the symbol before? YES
“Bastards. Baron Kirn sent a warning about these Children of the Serpent. He tells his lords to be watchful.” the soldier replies.
Q: Advice? YES
“Look, I cannot let you in, but if you go that way,” he points out towards a small marker in the field, “there is a farmstead about a mile beyond our fields. The big hounds outside are Culler and Den. The man who lives there is Borath. Tell him that Ansel sent you and said he might let you stay in the barn overnight. Don’t make me regret sending you.”
“Thank you, Ansel,” I reply and head towards Borath’s farm.
-Immersion-smell-breath-
Scene #104:
Sylvia and I follow Ansel’s directions and soon come to a small cluster of four barns and two story farmhouses surrounded by a thicket of thornberry. Geese begin to cackle at our approach and I hear two large hounds baying loudly. “Den! Culler! Quiet!” I shout in reply.
-Animal handling 6, Sylvia’s 13-
The dogs continue howling at me, but Sylvia pulls out some jerky and draws closer to the hedge, “Sweet boys, it’s alright. We are just here to talk to your master,” she coos and throws a bit of food over the hedge towards the animals. It no doubt vanished in an instant, but now they are more subdued, growling and tracking us as we look for the gate.
Sylvia keeps up the chatter, “It’s alright. We alright. Just a couple of travelers. Not gnolls, not bandits…just a couple of regular people.” Soon we arrive at the gate. The two dogs face us down from the other side, their stale breath, like rotting meat, is close. There is a bell on the gate post. I ring it. Once, then twice.
Lamplight filters through a shuttered, slit window in the house to the left before a door opens and a large main wearing mail and carrying a heavy crossbow steps outside. He comes towards us, “What brings you here at this late hour?” he asks in Kardashev with a Norgardian accent.
“Ansel in Bleakband told us a man called Borath might be willing to let use shelter tonight in his barn, since the village is closed for the night. Said the man’s dogs were called Den and Culler,” I reply. “Are you Borath?”
-Reaction 17-
The man nods and looks between Sylvia and I, then smiles, “She’s got a way with the animals doesn’t she,” then he disappears back into the hamlet. A few minutes later, he appears at the gate in front of us, opens it, and leads us back though a path between two lines of thornberries to a second gate and lets us into the hamlet. The dogs back away for us to enter before crowding up against Sylvia, nearly knocking her over. Closing the gate, he waves towards the other houses, and that’s when I realize that behind those dark, slitted shutters, his neighbors must have had their own crossbows trained on us.
He leads us towards one of the barns, “No open flame. Open the window up in the loft for light before I close the door,” he warns. “Bessie snores…she’s my milking cow.”
I nod, “Thank you for the help. It has been a long road.”
Borath nods, “I suppose so.” He sees us get settled, then closes the door to the barn after we climb up into the loft for the night.
–
12th Vinetread
-warm, cloudy, no rain, slight breeze-
-Immersion-Sound-Screaming- Q: Gnolls? EXCEPTIONAL YES (21 gnoll warpack!)
Scene #105 (Negative Alteration):
As Sylvia and I get dressed to continue our journey and thank our hosts, I see one of the man’s daughters in the loft below milking a cow. As I am about to greet her, there is a scream from outside. The girl looks towards the barn door in a panic, then races away. The geese all start braying as do the dogs. I hear Gorath yell, “Get inside! Everyone!” Racing out, weapons in hand, Sylvia look to see what is happening. The girl that was in the barn a second ago lies on the ground with an arrow in her shoulder, wounded but able to move as she crawls out of sight of…gnolls!
“Get her into Gorath’s house!” I command Sylvia. She springs into action, helping the girl to her feet, and the two disappear inside Gorath’s house as the dogs race inside behind them and the door slams shut.
I hear cross bows firing from the second floor windows, and one strikes a gnoll archer as the pack races towards the hamlet. I shoot another archer, then take shelter inside a nearby house as a kid opens the door to let me in, then bars it behind me as I race up the stairs and join his parents at their shuttered arrow slit shutters, firing on the approaching horde.
Soon, two of them are on the outer gate, trying to get it open but multiple bolts and arrows from me end them both tumbling back to the ground as the rest of the horde soon crowds around. The howl and cackle, then I hear it, “Trade! Trade! Kill me! Mercy! Please Freia! Mommy! Here in peace! Here in peace!” They seem to be babbling words, many words in Norgardian I don’t even understand, without any meaning between the eerie cackling sounds.
As they pile onto the gate, several more bolts find their marks, but the gate soon bursts open. The pack yowls in delight! “Mercy! Mercy! Kill them all! Trade!” Several race through the gate, confused, and split down both paths to find the second gate. I finish one with an arrow as they pause.
As the gnolls race between the two walls of thorns, my the people I’m with shift to other windows to maintain pressure. The entire second floor of the house is designed for defense. Even if the gnolls had more archers returning fire, the arrow slits provide good cover as we continue to fire on our attackers.
Suddenly, I hear from the other house, “To the gate!”
The farmer with me looks out a northern window and fires, then calls to me, “Come with me!” and bounds downstairs. His wife assumes that northern window as I follow him out into the morning air. One of his kids bolts the door behind use. Outside, I see two other men in the courtyard and Gorath’s dogs bounding towards the gate. All of the men wear mail. They are all a good decade older than me, and handle their crossbows with professional ease. These men are all…veterans! Yeomen land grantees no doubt. Another gnoll falls as he climbs on and starts trying to open the northern gate.
Q: 6 of 21 dead, do the Gnolls break off? NO
Yet another gnoll falls as the men form a line by the well, Gorath calls back his dogs, “Hold! Del, Cullen, hold line!” The dogs glare and bark at the gnolls, but return to their master’s side and bolts continue to fly overhead at the invaders. “Trade! We come in peace!” they cackle and howl. Two more gnolls fall, then the growing horde cracks the gate open and they begin pouring through. “Draw steel!” Gorath commands his neighbors as his dogs pounce on the first one to rush at us just as it comes close.
A couple of crossbow bolts drop the gnoll as the dogs hold the first one in place, and the men and I wade into the fight. I cut down one of the gnolls with my blades while another man brings his axe down on one. “Kill me!” It mocks as though pleading for a merciful death. We quickly oblige as more of the fiends stream through the broken gate. A bit of bladework an another falls.
Q: 11 out of 21 dead, do they break it off? NO
Crazed with a mad bloodlust, the pack continues surging towards us! It is a bloody, brutal fight as the frenzied creatures gnash their teeth and swing at us with stolen weapons, ancient and rusty, but the well disciplined “farmers” put them to task. I weave in and out, cutting down one gnoll after another while Gorath and his neighbors sever arms and crush skulls.
At the end of it, there are dead gnolls everywhere. One of Gorath’s dogs lays grievously wounded, barely drawing breath, and each of us had taken a few cuts or scratches. Gorath looks around, “Good job. Timon, finish the wounded.” Then Gorath kneels down beside his dog.
I start bandaging the animal, “I think it will pull through. I need to go check on the girl from the farm.”
Gorath nods, “My eldest is with her,” and I follow him back inside his home where Sylvia is already checking on her now that the fighting is done.
The wound is well bandaged, so I need do nothing more. “Does this sort of thing happen often?”
Gorath shakes his head, “No. But there is always the danger. Thankfully, it was in the morning when nobody was yet in the fields. It could have been bad.”
I nod in agreement, “And you all know how to fight?”
Gorath nods, “Retirement land grant. Free land on the frontier for a veteran after twenty years service. Then Baron Kirn offered a cash stipend for livestock on top of the Chancellor of Kiddimir’s offer, so we agreed to live here. So far, it’s been a good life. Glad you were here though.”
“You speak Kardashev well,” I observe.
He nods, “The imperial tongue is useful. Especially when a mercenary detachment under your command speaks it.”
“You were an officer then?” I raise an eyebrow.
“A captain. Long time ago,” he replies.
I nod, “Thank you again,” I pull out three gold crowns, “For the lodging.”
Q: Does he accept it? EXCEPTIONAL YES
He laughs, “Thank you. Paying more for a hayloft and a fight than for good, clean inn room. Maybe next time I should let you sleep on the floor by my bed. Might be worth three Imperials instead.”
I laugh, “Don’t count on it!”
—
A short time later, having eaten with his household, Sylvia and I have our mule ready, and we are on the road west with Gorath’s thanks and that of his neighbors.
-Morning Encounter-No Encounter-
Q: Are we welcomed through? EXCEPTIONAL YES Q: Speak Kardashan? NO Q: Is it crowded? YES Q: Friendly people? YES Q: Does anyone tell me? YES Q: Any local rumors of note? YES (Generate a dangerous mission) Q: Near the ruins? EXCEPTIONAL YES
We soon come to another village, but this is surrounded by stone walls with a sturdy tower overlooking the fortified gatehouse. The guard hails us in Norgardian. I greet him in Kardashan. He shrugs, so I sign that we are passing through, looking for a meal. He signals that I should head towards the village square. Soon I find a four story stone and half timber inn with the symbol of a fork stabbed into a great stone. There are stables behind, and entering the place, it seems very crowded. We have to squeeze onto a bench at a crowded table, but the people around us make room, and soon we have bowls of pottage, tankards of ale and half a loaf of bread to split between the two of us. I ask the people around me how to get to Oldenfall and soon get directions from a man who speaks Kardashev well enough for us to converse.
Then the man looks over our arms, then asks me, “You came across the Gnoll Highlands, yes? Passed through those ruins they say gnolls live in? Well, Fallon Hantree, over at the mercantile, he wants to hire someone to build a fort there so travelers can safely rest while bringing goods in from the coast. Maybe you have a company of men for the job?”
I laugh, “No, no…it is just the two of us. I’m Garrick, this is Sylvia.”
(Generate personality)
The man nods, “I am Haylish. As you can see from my grey hair, I am one of the village elders, and people around her tend to listen to me. So perhaps, you should listen? Fallon would be a good friend to have, so you should put a company together and earn his favor.” He smiles expectantly.
Sylvia looks between the two of us in disbelief, then I shake my head, “I appreciate your advice, but Sylvia and I have seen enough gnolls for one day. I will certainly talk to Fallon to learn more about this opportunity, but I would need at least a dozen good men before I would even consider such a thing.
Q: does he persist? NO
The man shrugs his shoulders, “Very well. Perhaps someone else will make their fortune helping him out.”
(Generate personality) Q: Friendly? NO
I smile and nod my head in agreement as Sylvia breathes a sigh of relief. After lunch, we head over to the mercantile. Entering the shop, a slim man looks up from behind the counter as we peruse his wares. “We have some gear to sell if you are interested?” I offer.
The man raises an eyebrow, “Let’s see what you have then. No bloodstains I hope.”
-Persuasion 3-
I shrug, “Used goods, not ruined goods.” I lay out some extra armor, a spare backpack, tent, bedroll, a full case of crossbow bolts, a spare shortsword and some other goods, and after a bit of haggling, he makes an incredibly low offer, but I accept anyway simply to unburden the mule. We also replace our spent arrows and provisions. “You would be Fallon, yes?”
The man nods, “Yes?”
I purse my lips and nod, “From this transaction, I wish you luck finding someone eager to set up that trading post for you.”
Q: Is he insulted? YES
“Stupid foreigners,” he mutters in my own tongue so I clearly understand as I leave.
-Afternoon Encounter-Game Fowl-
We follow the road northwest out of Earthwallow, passing by farmhouses and land being plowed up for the next planting. A group of pheasants cross the road ahead of us at one point, but I didn’t have my bow in hand as there seems no reason to be wary in such civilized lands. Over my right shoulder, I see some rugged looking hill country beyond the farmland, but nothing to worry over.
Q: Welcome? YES
As late afternoon approaches, we arrive at a village called Ravenmond perched on top of a hill. The guards greet us in their tongue as we pass through. The village has no inn nor tavern, but it does have both a gristmill and a sawmill. We stop briefly in the village square and share a meal, refreshing the mule with well water as we relax for a bit.
Q: Does anyone approach us? YES (generate character) Q: Does he speak kardashev? YES E: Ambiguous Significance: a Celebration of Adversities Topic: Enemies
A young lad of perhaps thirteen years old, though maybe older as he seems unusually tall for his age, approaches, eyeing our equipment. “You aren’t soldiers. You aren’t traders. You’re wearing some nice jewelry,” he notes studying Sylvia, “what’s the secret? Treasure hunters?”
“In a manner of speaking, I suppose,” I reply, “You know our language?”
The boy nods, “Yes. My father is from Gieldrith.”
“How did he come to settle here? If he’s a city man?” I ask.
The boy shrugs, “He…may have had some difficulties that made moving down here and marrying my mom seem a lot more attractive than staying there, even if he did have to take up life behind a plow. A boring life behind a plow.” The boy rolls his eyes, “But that’s not what you do is it? You see the world and live well too, right?”
“Yes!”, Sylvia’s eyes light up, “We’ve explored ancient ruins, and abandoned wizards tower, fought goblins, ogres and gnolls! Challenged evil cults, and yes, found lots of gold and jewels!” she shows off the gold necklace she is wearing. “And never, never have to worry where our next meal is coming from!”
The boy’s excitement grows, “Can I come with you? You’ll need a translator in these lands if you want to get by.”
I look the boy up and down, “And your parent’s need your help at the farm.”
“Ugh!” the boy groans, “Don’t remind me! I have three sisters though! They have more than enough hands.”
“And who handles the plow when your old man is old and grey?” I press.
“My brother in law. My sisters will each marry some big, dumb oaf who thinks standing behind an ox’s ass is the best he can do in life. I don’t want to live that life!” he insists.
Q: Does Sylvia want to take him? YES E: Ambiguous Significance: the Movement of Jealousy
“We should bring him with us!” Sylvia eagerly agrees with the boy, “If we don’t, he’s just going to run away from home anyway. This way, he’s with us! And he’s right that we need a translator.”
“No,” I insist, throwing a punch that would have crushed his nose had I not pulled it back.
Q: Does he back down? YES
The boy’s eyes widen in shock, as I explain, “Imagine a knife in that hand. You aren’t ready to face what we face. Maybe we’ll meet again in a few years and things will be different. For now, help your family. Drill with the town levy. Learn to keep your guard up. Then…maybe you can join us on the road. If we still breathe.”
“Y..yes,” stammers the boy. He then backs away, before taking off out towards the fields.
“Why did you do that? We could have used him!” Sylvia objects.
I look her in the eyes, “We do need help. But we need actual help. Not someone we will simply watch die because they can’t even defend themselves. We need someone who can help us defend each other. He can’t carry his own weight, much less help a team. Yet.”
Q: Does she concede? YES E: New NPC: a Triumph of Plans (generate character)
“Yes. You are right,” she agrees as another person approaches from across the square.
“Nicely done. The lad won’t listen to me. Head in the clouds, wanting to skip the hard work and go straight to swimming in a pile of coins,” the half orc spits on the ground. He’s a stocky fellow, broader and better muscled than me, but then…orc blood, so no surprise there. “Where are you two heading, anyway?”
“Oldenfall. My name’s Garrick, this is Sylvia,” Sylvia nods towards the man as I extend my hand in greeting. The orc grips it firmly.
“Evers. What’s for you in Oldenfall,” Evers asks releasing my hand and grasping Sylvia’s.
“It’s farther from Firth,” I grin. “The lad is right about us, we are seeking our fortunes, but it won’t come easy.”
-Insight 7-Evers fails to detect accent-
“Why are you running from Feldholm?” Evers raises a suspicious eyebrow.
“Garrick busted some noble woman’s lip so we aren’t welcome there anymore,” Sylvia grins in delight.
“Oh? That’s the story you are going to tell?” I give her a skeptical glance, then facing Evers, “But it’s a true one.”
“I’m guessing there’s more?” the half orc encourages.
“Not for a man we’ve just met,” I answer. Studying his armor and the fact that he carries a longsword on his hip, bow across his back and more than one visible dagger, I inquire, “You aren’t part of the local garrison, and I’m guessing you aren’t a caravan guard. What’s your story?”
“Same as yours, I suppose. Not the bit about popping a noble woman in the face, but the seeking one’s fortune part. And I heard Sylvia say that you needed a translator. Perhaps we might travel to Oldenfall together?” he suggests.
“Sounds fair. But we’d best get moving if we want to be there by nightfall. I’m told if we follow the road northwest from here we should make it before dusk,” I suggest.
Evers nods in agreement, “Let me collect my things from Aligar’s house and we can get on the road.”
I follow him to one of the cottages where we see the boy, looking sullen, on the porch helping one of his sisters with the laundry. The half orc goes inside, then emerges a few minutes later with pack over his shoulders. He gives the boy’s mum a hug, bids farewell to the boy, who he calls Tiko, and his sister, Ala, and then he falls in with us as we resume our journey.
Posts From a Long Winded Gamer 
Leave a comment