Posts From a Long Winded Gamer

–Vingrow 2nd 91 gp, (88 gp Adwin) (75 gp for Ernard’s next of kin) 16 rations
I was finally sent out as part of a patrol to check the roads and keep the wild at bay. We were trying to figure out what had ravaged a flock of sheep and carried off the shepherd.

The garrison lent me a horse from the stables as is the custom. Very few common soldiers own their own mounts, after all, who wants to risk losing such wealth in service of their Lord.

Our patrol heads south towards the fens, and then starts moving east along the water’s edge. The air is bitter cold, and the horse’s heavy hooves gouge deeply into the snow. Our cloaks are pulled tight against thew wind. The snow glistens, and even the blackened branches of fallen trees shine with the ice dripping where leaves once fell. No frogs, no insects, just the crunch of hooves in the snow, the wicker of horses and the jokes and stories told by the men as we patrol.

We are startled by an unearthly wolflike howl nearby, and turn to see a massive white wolf leading a large pack. As we form up, the wolves start racing towards us with a fury unknown to natural beasts!

The pack rushed at us and our sergeant and lead men were soon fighting for their lives! The great wolf attacked the rear of our formation, and a blast of ice from it’s maw coated my shield and two of the men standing by my side, but it did not kill us! I cut down the first wolf to reach me, while the great wolf ripped the man at my side in half!

Half of the squad stayed back, using their crossbows against the great wolf, while two men tried to hold it off. The rest of the squad, including myself, helped the sergeant deal with the other wolves. The fighting was fierce, and as the great wolf tossed aside another one of our men, I leapt forward against it calling on the rest of the squad to close before it could breath its blizzard breath again. My companions then rushed forward with spears, and our sergeant was finally able to join us after dispatching the last of the “normal” wolves. It took all of us working together to put an end to the beast!

After the fight, the great wolf and the eight of its pack all lie dead in the snow and mush, along with one of our men. Two other men were badly wounded, and all of us were bloody and winded.

The sergeant looks around and says, “If that wasn’t the cause of the trouble, I hate to know what is! Let’s return to the Keep. Bring the pelts.” We all nodded, and gathered our own dead, skinned the wolves, and fell in line back to the keep.

We soon return to the garrison, where the sergeant reports in while I and another man carry the fallen soldier to the chapel. The man’s name was Gruner. I didn’t really know him. He had no next of kin, which isn’t terribly odd for the recruits who serve here at the keep. Dregs and sellswords eager for glory or ill suited to the discipline of a higher lord’s army. The other man with me, Karol, is sullen and tight lipped. I’m sure he wonders why the gods chose Gruner to die, and us to spare. That is always the question.

–Vingrow 9th 91 gp, Leveled up! (88 gp Adwin) (75 gp for Ernard’s next of kin) 16 rations

While on guard duty, Squire Adwin approaches me excited about a business opportunity. “Hey, Berick,” he says, “I know you’ve got a bit of coin, and you are also holding Ernard’s share, right of that bounty, right? I’ve got a deal. A cousin of mine is forming a caravan to trade with the dwarven holds, but he needs some partners, maybe you could chip in with us?”

I agree to meet with Adwin’s friend, Iowand, but I get the impression the man isn’t quite on the up and up. In spite of Adwin’s pleading and the Iowand’s assurances of his plan, and its profitability, I decide to pass on the opportunity. Something just didnt’ feel right.

Instead, I kept working for the garrison and saved another gold crown.

–Vingrow 16th 92 gp, (88 gp Adwin) (75 gp for Ernard’s next of kin) 16 rations

Squire Adwin came to me in the tavern one evening and reported that Iowand lost all their money buying bolts of cloth that turned out to be moth infested and corn whiskey that turned out to have gone sour. I shook my head, warning that he needed to be careful to partner with people with a good head for business.

When I said this Merick the Blacksmith suggested that he was planning to open his own shop as soon as he had money for the anvil and forge. Adwin and I both offer to chip in, and between the three of us, we have the money to buy all the tools he needs from his master so he can set up his own shop in the nearby village of Faedell, about six miles southwest of the Keep. The farmers will be glad not to have to travel to the keep every time they need tools sharpened or horses shod.

–Vingrow 23rd 77 gp, (88 gp Adwin) (100 gp of mine invested in Merrick’s shop) 16 rations

I was summoned to the Captain’s office for a assignment. “Our lordship needs this letter delivered to Lord Kolfren of Southrod immediately. Take one of the horses, good one, and five days of food. Set off immediately, and return with Lord Kolfren’s reply. You’ll make the best time sticking to the road. Be careful!”

I took the letter, marked by our lord’s seal and sealed again by the captain into a bone scroll case, saluted, and left for the quartermaster and the stables. A long ride if I push the horse, a long night in the wilds if I don’t!

About an hour away from the keep, I ride past a caravan of dwarven traders heading towards the keep. I pause to ask the master about the road ahead. The captain warned me that they had barely escaped a group of bandits just an hour before. I can see that he and several of his men are wounded.

Suddenly, an alarm is sounded and I see a group of riders coming towards us. There are at least three times as many raiders as there are guards and merchants. On my own, I might be tempted to help the men, but as I have a mission to perform, I wish the captain luck and ride south trying to get around the bandits.

Unfortunately, some of them see me, and three of the riders give chase!

I easily guide my horse through the scrub and brush, past thick brambles and racing through and over the gullies and frigid creekbeds. My pursuers have a hard time even keeping sight of me, much less catching up. I am soon able to lose them altogether.

As I am riding close to the river, I see the shadow of a large fish in the shallows, and am grateful I do not need to ford my way across.

As darkness falls and my horse and I grow weary from the day’s journey, I tie the animal down at what looks to be a likely place to rest, and prepare to lie down for a bit of shuteye when suddenly, the horse cries out in agony and I see a huge spear sticking from its side!

I look and see a huge bear skinned man of fearsome appearance running at the animal and swinging a club that looks like a great treebranch over it’s head. An ogre!

I draw my blade and rush at the creature, hoping against all hope that I’ll kill him before he finishes me. We lay into each other, but I am able to deftly avoid his clumsy but powerful blows, while the bearskin he wears does little to protect him from my sharp blade. In and out we dance, as he howls in pain and agony as i slash him twice, thrice and again! Eventually, he realizes he is outmatched and runs towards the woods. I grab my crossbow ans send a single bolt after him, but it misses the mark!

I then turn to search for my terrified horse which I easily find hiding a hundred yards from the road. I tend to its wound and lead it back to the “safety” of my camp.

I get little sleep that night.

–Vingrow 24th 77 gp, (88 gp Adwin) (100 gp of mine invested in Merrick’s shop) 20 rations

As my horse and I ready to resume our trek, I notice a pouch lying in the treeline where I fought the ogre. I pick it up and opening it, find nearly three week’s wages in gold and silver coins! I must have inadvertently cut it from the ogre’s belt during the fight the previous night. I tuck the pouch into my satchel and set off once more to Southrod.

A couple of hours later, I notice an awful lot of bees around, and then spot a strange man in sackcloth by the road with what appears to be a beehive at the end of his walking stick! The strange fellow waves feebly at me, and I return his greeting.

“Who are you?” I ask, puzzled by his appearance.

The man, wearing a crown of dried flowers, cackles a bit and says that he is the beekeeper of these woods…that he tends all of the hives and is eager for spring to soon return. But he worries that winter may grow too long this season, as the northern wolves have come down to stay and the cursed ones rot each in their way.

I ask how well he knows these lands, and he says just like the back of his hands. I show him my grandfather’s map and laughs and says he knows of that. It’s a dead man’s curse and awful fate, of wizards old and warriors late. Entombed they lie where servants died and plundered gold was sealed of old a treasure to their hearts so cold. I ask him why he speaks in rhyme, he says he does it all the time and I should to if I were you for words in rhyme are always true. I bid him well, and hurry away, to tarry no more on this swift day.

About two hours later, I stop my horse. I see in the road a short ways ahead an area where the side of the road seems recently disturbed. Then I notice, in the grass, two antennae sticking up. I’d seen this once before…an ankheg lying in wait!

I readied my crossbow and took careful aim, hoping to cripple it with one good shot. The bolt slams into the ground nearby, and the creature springs out of ambush and sprays a jet of burning vomit at me! I draw my blade and ride towards it, striking it quickly with two solid blows as I slide off my horse. The creature lunges at me, and I hit it once more. Then it clamps onto my leg, and I strike it twice more until it finally releases me and turns back towards its hole. I lunge at it, and pin it through the back just before it can escape.

My leg is sore and many links of my armor are torn where its jaws had gotten hold of me. My skin is burned where the vomit struck flesh and where the juices from its mouth burned through my gambeson. But I was alive, and the ankheg wasn’t!

It took awhile to catch my breath, but we had to press on if we wanted to reach Southrod by nightfall.

Shortly after dusk, we reached Southrod. The road had been long and filled with danger, but we had overcome some terrible threats, and I was eager to deliver the message to Lord Kolfren.
When I tell the guard why I am there, I am immediately escorted to the Lord’s keep, where his Lordship’s household is nearly finished with dinner. I notice that the food looks rather…sparse. Like what we are served in the barracks and not what I would expect a lord to eat with his court.

“A letter from Farwatch? Hand it to me.” He commands, and I present the scroll case. One of his men opens it for him and hands him the opened letter.

“Eat something while I read this,” he commands, and I am seated before a bowl of freshly poured porridge with a loaf of dry bread to sop it with. Famished, I enjoy the simple meal while he starts asking about my journey. “An ankheg? Where? Were there eggs in its tunnel? Signs of any more?” I had little information to share, and my lack of additional information seemed to frustrate him. “Those things are a dangerous scourge. I they infest the roadway, no trade will come through! You’ll lead a company of men to where you fought it so they can investigate further.” He commands. I nod.

He signals for a servant to fetch him parchment and a quill, and he begins to compose his own letter. A reply to the Castellan no doubt. I look around at his court. I see that everyone present appears to be a fighting man of some sort. No wife. No ladies. Just men of war and kitchen servants. I wonder if the ladies dine separately, or if the Lord is unmarried. I dare not ask.

“You are dismissed. Show him to his room.” The Lord commands, and I am escorted to a small rather bleak looking bedroom. The bed is comfortable though, and I am soon fast asleep.

I am awakened in the night to the sound of boisterous laughter outside my window. “Ankhegs? I love hunting Ankhegs! Always a challenge, and farmers are always so grateful…as are their daughters!” the man outside laughs to his drinking companions. I hear some more nervous voices ask about how dangerous these things are, but the man continues how they can’t really spit much unless they’ve just eaten, and if you catch them after moulting their skins are soft as a baby’s. I wonder if the braggart even knows what he’s talking about.