–Heyday 9th-16th 42 gp
The rest of the week is spent working at Ghor’s smithy, for he is always in need of a hand helping with horseshoes, plows and axe blades. The work was steady, and uneventful. I also needed to wait for Welland and Kentai to recover from their injuries. caravans, and to keep my eye out for other fortune hunters who might join me I put some money in the bank as well.
On the 15th, a huntress stops by the smithy to purchase some military style bodkin arrowheads from us. The type used to punch through armor. I ask what she’s hunting and says, “Deer, wild goats, the occasional wolf.” So i ask why she needs armor piercing arrowheads if she isn’t hunting hobgoblins or ankheg. She glares as me with a “shhhh.” “Sometimes, the hunter becomes the hunted, or the hunted must become the hunter. Best to be prepared, lest you end up in someone else’s cooking pot.” I smile and suggest she must be a good shot to survive such threats. “Better than most of the men on this keep’s walls, and I know more about what lies beyond them than a smith’s apprentice would.”
“I’ve not seen you before, do you often trade furs to Khalid, or are you passing through?” I ask, not recognizing her. She tells me she’s just arrived. I ask where she’s from, and she says that’s no more concern of mine than from which goose an arrow’s fletching is made is the concern of the deer it slays. I’m not really sure how to take that.
The following night, I see her in the tavern alone, seemingly lost in her thoughts while a traveling musician entertains an unusually large and jubilant crowd. He regales the people with tales of of a mighty hero who slew a great dragon…the usual tripe. I sit across from her, “The stew’s not to your liking, I take it?” She looks up at me and answers that perhaps it is the music, or most certainly the company. “A newcomer needs friends. Out here on the frontier, they are the difference between life and death. There are worse things than deer in the Whispering Woods.” She chuckles, almost cracking a smile.
“The bard,” she says, “he sings of great legends, great heroes, and the people here, they act as though these are just stories. If they knew how close such beasts were to their homes. I don’t think any of them would sleep at night, or work in their fields the next day. Knowing a dragon could come down and burn all they love to cinders, or an ankheg could grab a child from its crib, where they thought it was safe in their house. He makes light of that which people should dread. Beasts I have seen, beasts i have fought.”
“You’ve fought a dragon?” I ask incredously.
“That’s why I left home.” She stares into her bowl of soup, stirring it slowly. I prompt her to continue, “Chearoth the Foul a great beast whose name none of us had ever heard before, but I learned it afterwards. It lives far away in the woods halfway to Blackmarsh. But like all dragons, it’s greed knows no boundaries. It came upon our village in the night, ripping the roofs from homes, its breath, cloud of death to all who were near. Like my father, my brothers, and all the huntsmen, herdsmen and farmers in our village, I tried to fight it. To drive it away. It went where it wanted. Took what it wanted, and destroyed all else.” She pauses, dropping her spoon to the table, and leaning back in her chair. Her eyes are hollow, stained with tears. “I was orphaned that day. My brothers and sister, my parents, in-laws friends and neighbors slain. The few survivors fled to the keep, to ask our lord to help them rebuild. I just… I just kept walking. And here I am.”
I nod. And slowly extend my hand, “I am Berick. I admire your courage. And I am honored to meet you.” She chuckles and takes my hand, telling me her name is Nadja. We are still talking, she tells me what she’s learned about dragons, and I ask if she knows much about the undead. We speak in hushed tones for it seems she does not wish to frighten those who might overhear. Soon, my companions, including Kentai who is finally well enough to fight, begin arriving at the tavern, for word of a musician travels fast, and good entertainment is hard to find! Through them, she learns of our exploits and our losses. She offers to join our company and I gladly accept. I could use a good archer!
–Weeding 17th 131 gp
–-At this point, I pause and spend a couple of days real-time tinkering with Fantasy Grounds. i work out the wandering monster tables for different areas surrounding the Keep of Farwatch, and then I try yet again to find some way to add a custom calendar. And this time, I find a posting with sample calendar mods. I take one, modify it to match the one I like to sue for my campaigns, and after a couple of attempts, get it loaded into Fantasy Grounds and replace the previous calendar. Now, it auto transfers dates of events, but the calendars don’t quite line up seasonally, so I go back through this document, and change dates to try and get things matched up better. I’m sure I’ve missed a few spots, bet eh, what’s it really matter if I go forward with the calendar I prefer! And then I work out my monthly weather tables, so that was pretty fun. I even put together this website, at least in its initial form. All of this means, Berick will probably die next session, but them’s the breaks! —
Posts From a Long Winded Gamer 
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