Posts From a Long Winded Gamer

(Why are goblins, who are sunlight averse, hunting in daylight? Why are trolls skirting the edge of a village? Perhaps game is scarce. Possibly because a stronger predator has moved in…a young dragon perhaps! Ask Mythic, is the goblin scrawny and underfed…Exceptional No)

There were two things odd about the goblin I searched. First, he seemed unusually well fed for a goblin. One normally doesn’t encounter goblins hunting in the daytime, and with the scarcity of game, I thought for certain these must have been desperately famished. Yet this goblin happened to be rather…plump! Second, the goblin had in his pouch a small hourglass with a lead frame that seemed to be filled with a grey ash. Undoubtedly he picked it up somewhere, but it was on odd thing to find on a goblin.

-Next scene is at the tavern in Tellog. I quickly generate some details of the town and some of its residents on Kassoom, and some futeher details on the tavern using Donjon–

After stabling his mule, Benton and I step inside the Sharp Gait taavern, where the proprietress, Duca, greets me with her lovely smile. “Back so soon Piotr? And I see you’ve brought a friend!” she smiles, ladeling orange brothed carrot stew into two wooden bowls for us. She sets them before our table with a smile, before going to fetch us our tankards of beer, and some bread and roast fowl.

She is soon lost in the bustle of serving other patrons, for many of the men in the village spend their evenings here, perhaps to the chagrin of their wives or less attractive young maidens for Duca is known to have “led” many men astray, though she would say their wives should have done more to keep them happy. I wonder if perhaps she might not be Sir Tellog’s mistress, for why else would such a woman be allowed to remain in the village, given the number of fights and marriages she’s broken?

–-Mythic questions-Is it crowded- Exceptional Yes, Is Duca an adultress? Exceptional Yes. Were many hogs lost before teh culling-Exceptional Yes. Any signs of trolls-No, Have goblins been seen in the area-yes–

I start talking to some of the farmers at the next table, and ask them about the Culling last month. They say that they were only able to round up about a quarter of the hogs they normally do, and that this was before they spotted the troll tracks. The lack of meat for the winter (and all of next year) has them a bit troubled, but it was the troll tracks that caused them to ask the baron for help. Piotr then tells them about being attacked by goblins, and they say that they have grown used to seeing the creatures when they go out to gather wood from the forest. Nobody ever goes to the woods alone anymore, but the goblins vanished when the baron’s men arrived. That they’ve reappeared a couple of days later means they must have been keeping watch this whole time!

With that realization, the table grows a bit quieter, and the farmers look at each other nervously. One of them mutters, “I’d best get back home,” and then the other two men follow shortly thereafter.

Benton gives me a worried look. “What does this mean?” I puzzle things over a bit and then suggest that perhaps, the Goblin Wars are about to resume. He shudders at the thought.

As both of Duca’s rooms have already been rented out, Benton and I have to wait until the rest of the patrons leave before we can roll out our blankets on the floor near the hearth. As I have more than a few times in the past fortnight, I help Duca,her cook, Glogin, and her young barmaid, Isabella, to clean up. The work always goes quickly, for unseen hands also help us, with words of magic scouring stains and cleaning dishes faster than human hands ever could. In a Barony where mages are held suspect, she freely practices her art!

Quiet 9th day,Monday, 28 degrees, windy leaves and small twigs in constant motion, 6 inches of snow on the ground

The next morning, it is bitterly cold outside. Stepping onto the tavern’s porch, I see that icicles that had been dripping last night had frozen solid once more. There is a crust of ice across the snow as well, so that every step one takes makes a loud “crunch”. Aside from people walking to barns to check on livestock, there is very little traffic in the village today. It is too cold and there is not much work to do this time of year! But plumes of smoke are sucked up and away from every cabin as if the bitter wind was trying to steel the breath of those inside!

“Well, are you going to help me?” Benton asks. My shocked look reveals my reply. There will not be anyone in the market today, yet he intends to go door to door trying to entice peopel to buy his goods. I tell him that as long as he stays in the village, he doesn’t need my help.

I pull my cloak tight, and trudge through the snow to Bella’s store, where the old gossip greets me as if I were her own grandson, and eagerly takes my coin as I replace my lost arrows. “So, Piotr,” she asks eagerly,”what brings you back to Tellog so soon? Duca’s warm bed or young Isabella’s cold heart?” Bella’s obsession with the romantic interests of strangers eludes me.

“Ran into some goblins on the way out, and helped a merchant get safely here. I suspect I’ll stay a few more days, in my own company by the hearth rather than trying to crawl into someone’s bed,” I respond curtly. She tsks as if in pity for me, but really it’s for the lack of anything juicy to share with her friends. “So, do you know anything about goblins?” I ask. She smiles and tells me about the time Old Haslet and his boy were out late cutting timbers for a new barn at the edge of Colecook Gorge when they spotted some goblins at the bottom of the gorge carrying baskets and gathering blackberries as dusk started to fall. They abandoned their saw and immediately took off back towards town. When they went back a week later, their saw and hatchets were gone, but they saw several goblin footprints around the trees they had been cutting. I ask a few more questions and learn that Haslet lives in a free farmhouse about three miles north of town.

-Immersion roll-speach, Mythic-not with a patron! UNE subject-My character–

With the wind as cold and fierce as it is today, and no true sense of urgency, I decide not to go visit the old man today. Instead, I return to the Sharp Gait to spend the rest of my day near a cozy fire. I help keep the fire well stoked, clean the tables, and help with dishes so that Duca and Isabella can serve their customers. While I am in the kitchen, Glogin asks about my travels. My experiences during the Goblin War, and of course, how I got my scar. In exchange, I ask what it’s like being a half-orc, and how he met Duca. We chat for a bit and I learn that he grew up in Tellog and had a fair number of friends as a kid. It’s not like half orcs are particularly uncommon, and his mother was well liked…most everyone in Tellog is kin to each other in some way anyway. As for how he met Duca, she arrived with a group of troubadours when he was just a kid, and she paid him to take her horses to graze while the troupe was performing. When she decided to settle here, she hired him for the occasional odd job or errand, and then when he came of age, she hired him as her full time cook. He’s kind of always known her. She’s like a big sister to him.

So I ask about Isabella, and he rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what is wrong with that girl! She’s so naive! It’s like she doesn’t really believe there is evil in the world, except perhaps in the people who keep us safe from it! Head in her clouds all the time, and she keeps trying to persuade me that she can ‘tame the beast’ within me! Like I’m some sort of savage because I have orc blood in my veins!”

At that moment, she walks into the kitchen to fill four bowls of stew, and she gives us each the iciest stare, “It is not very polite to talk about someone behind their back,” she says firmly. Then she turns abruptly, and taking the tray of bowls with her, storms back out of the kitchen.

Glogin and I give each other horrified looks, and then bust out laughing as we return to our work.

Quiet 10th day,Lordsday, 32 degrees, windy leaves and small twigs in constant motion, 6 inches of snow on the ground

Though it’s still bitterly cold outside, I decide to go and talk to Haslet, and perhaps do some hunting. After all, Duca’s generosity should be repaid! Benton decides to come with me and visit some of the outlying farms with his wares.

With scarfs pulled close over our faces, and our cloaks pulled tight, we make our way out of Tellog and though empty fields. Mitzy is a good sport about it, probably very grateful for her saddleblanket and the boxes and bags of wares she carries. Every breath she takes is a cloud in the frigid air.

We stop at a couple of outlying farms on the way to Haslet’s. I wait patiently while Benton sells a few odds and ends, making trades and bargains with the families we visit. Almost everyone has something to trade. Sitting in the corner while he talks to the adults of the house, I puff on my father’s old pipe and answer the questions of curious children about the scar on my face, the terror of trolls, and of fighting goblins in the war. I wasn’t much older than them when these things happened, but I try to gloss over that bit of horror.

(Mythic scene change to Haslets; something happens elsewhere, an innocent is returned)

At Haslet’s, while Benton talks to the wife about cookware and spices, I ask Haslet about the goblins. His face goes white and he says he’s never gone back to Colecook Gorge. I ask if they’d seen any signs of goblins elsewhere, and he shakes his head. “No!” he insists, “I stay on my farm, and buy firewood and dung from my neighbors. I’ve got a wife and five daughters to look after. My sons and I don’t leave, not with goblins around. The women can’t protect themselves!” I ask why he doesn’t move into the manor then, but he starts yelling about how this is his land. He chose it, tamed it and isn’t going to go trading strips of land each season as some lord’s tenant and have to serve in their muster to fight in wars he doesn’t care about. I quickly regret having asked him.

Fortunately, Benton was done trading by the time Old Man Haslet kicked us out of his house.

“Well, Benton, I’m going to head up to the gorge, and hopefully take some game along the way. Will you be alright returning to town?” I ask. He scratches his beard thoughtfully and suggests that perhaps he should tag along. Mitzy would be a big help if I bag a deer or something. I nod and tell him to simply follow my tracks. I can move quieter on my own but in the snow I’ll be easy enough to follow. He nods, and says that if I pass by a farm, he might linger a bit.

So we head off in the direction of the gorge.

As I approach the edge of the Axblight, I notice a string of smoke being pulled away by the wind, as though someone has a campfire just inside the treeline. I crouch down and begin creeping towards it, hoping to remain unseen and using whatever scrub I can to conceal my approach.

Soon I can see them, four rough looking men huddled close to the fire with some shoddy lean-to’s for shelter. There is very little to the camp other than the fire itself and the hastily constructed shelters. The men don’t look like hunters, but one of them is wearing an old army uniform. I creep close enough to hear them. They aren’t whispering, as they must believe themselves alone, though those familiar with these woods know that it has many ears! They are talking about travelling to Last Rest, and breaking into the manor house their to steal something. The soldier says that he hopes to meet Sir Darby face to face and pay him back for getting his brother killed! Another adds that a bonus was promised if they can kill the noble. From what I’ve heard, nobody will shed many tears for Sir Darby if he is slain, but by thieving cutthroats? Hired murderers? I am tempted to strike them down, but even with surprise, one against four is long odds, and the veteran could be a very skilled warrior. Plus, criminals or not, I am loathe to kill a fellow human in cold blood.

I slip away to stop Benton from getting any closer.

I find the old man slowly catching up, and I tell him what I’ve overheard. He pulls out a couple of wanted posters and asks if I recognize any of them. Indeed, the soldier is a man named Tephye, wanted for desertion and the murder of a fellow soldier. I tell Benton to go back to Tellog and wait for me until morning. If I am not back in two days, tell the manorlord what happened. He nods his head, and thrusts the poster into my hand. I give it back to him, saying that if I don’t make it back they need to know what my killer looks like!

I then head back to the camp to wait for an opportunity to strike.

As the moons grow high in the sky, I draw my sight on the man standing watch. Carefully, I loose the arrow just as he drops down to pick up something from the ground. The arrow flies right past where his heaad would have been. He looks up, shocked, “We are udner…” my second arrow cuts his tongue out and he falls to the ground.

But his companions are up and grabbing weapons, unsure of where their assailant might be, for they are in the light of their fire, and I am in the shadows. Another arrow strikes one of the men, and Tephye shouts, “Over there! Follow me!” and starts running my way. Before they are halfway to me, my fourth arrow srikes down the wounded man, leaving Tephye and one of his companions to pursue as I retreat farther into the woods.

“Are you mad, Teph! We can’t chase someone into the dark like that! Let’s get out of here!” says the one man, I see Tephye start to waver, and they begin running back camp to grab their supplies…

Caught in the light of their campfire, I can see them plainly, and take another shot.

“Damn! Leave it!” Tephye yells, and they abandon their camp. I take my time, skirting the edge of the light, and looking for their tracks in the snow on the other side. The frozen crust on the surface of the snow makes the new tracks extra crisp and easy to spot. Even in the dark.

Pursuit: I have advantage due to Forest as favored terrain
Pass Survival: Pursuer gains 12 (17 vs 5)
2nd round, I pass Survival again (fresh snow fresh tracks, moonlight, but advantage) Pursuer gains 3 to (15) 22 vs 19.
3rd round gain 3 (18) 13 vs 10. I can actually see them running
4th round lose 10 (8) 13 vs 23. I have lost sight of them again
Pass survival
5th round lose 4 (4) 12 vs 15
Pass survival Telphye trips trips
vs Bandit 4 vs Telphye 6 23 vs 14, gain 7 vs bandit 11 vs Telphy 13
Pas survival 20 vs 22 Bandit 9, Telphy 11
Pass survival 24 vs 15 Bandit 18, Telphy 20

After more than an hour in pursuit, I catch sight of Telphye, and send an arrow after him. It buries itself deep into the tree by which he was standing!

“Curse you!” he yells, “You won’t give up, hound? Then I’ll put you down like the dog you are!” He shouts “Face me like a man!” He yells, and runs towards me with his shield upraised. Another shot, and I thought I hit him in the thigh, but the arrow flies through…must have just grazed his leg for he doesn’t even falter.

As he rushes onto me, I toss aside my bow and draw my daggers. His long blade gives him the advantage, but I’m tired of rushing back and forth in the woods. I soon realize I should have run!

He is a solid warrior and i narrowly avoid death as his blade slides up my arm when I clumsly try to turn it aside, but this lets me step inside his reach and slash into his gambeson. He backs up and I dodge easily roll out of the way of his backswing, lunge at him, and stab him in the thigh before he can get away. But he spins aside and hurls me to the ground, bringing his sword down towards my head, but seeing the opening, I throw my blade and it catches him in the neck.

It’s easy enought to take his head with his own blade. Where the other bandit ran off to, I no longer care. This man was worth the bounty, and I am tired from the pursuit. I check his belongings, and not surprisingly, he is penniless. Elsewise, he would have found lodging someplace. “You are worth more dead than alive it seems,” I mutter grimly, wrapping his head in his gambeson. I thin start making my way back to the abandoned camp. Cold and tired.

At the camp, I find Telphye’s armor, the men’s bedrolls, and a stash of food they’d had. None of the corpses has money on them. I just leave their bodies where they are. It is hard to dig a grave in the frozen earth, and these men aren’t really worth the effort. They’ll feed the wolves I am sure.

Quiet 11th day,Marketday, 28 degrees, windy leaves and small twigs in constant motion, 6 inches of snow on the ground

A minor cut a couple of bruises notwithstanding, I return to Tellog without incident, and finding Benton, have him help present my gruesome trophy to the Sergeant at Arms, along with the story of the men’s plot against Sir Darby. The sergeant takes us to see Sir Tellog himself.

“So, you fancy yourself the hero? Bringing a villain to justice?” the baby faced nobleman sneers. His looks defy his age, for I know the man fought in the Goblin War and is a good deal older than myself. I hold up my hands while Benton shows the bounty on the poster. “Yes, I see it, but I don’t have it! Does this look like a wealthy village? The baron will pay you what is due. Bring me the bounty.” He gestures for Benton to bring the piece of paper to him. He then jabs his quill into the eye of Telphye’s half frozen head, and writes a warrant out using the man’s blood, and placing his seal upon the poster. “There. Present this to the Baron’s man, and they will pay you. In the meantime, we’ll just stick the scoundrel’s head on a pole outside like the traitor deserves.”

“By the way, you didn’t happen to see anything unusual while you were out and about did you?” the noble asks, a little more worried than before, his arrogance starting to fade.” I shake my head and ask why. He tells me that a child stumbled into town last night, telling that his family was killed by giant goblins, but then pointing to a couple half orcs in town. He said an entire army attacked and killed everyone. I sent a few men out to investigate but they haven’t returned yet. Perhaps you could go take a look, and maybe postpone your trip to Estkap a few days.”

“Well…” I answer slowly, “as you say, this is not a wealthy village. if there are orc or hobgoblin raiders about, I certainly don’t want to fight them, and i don’t even want to go looking for them without pay.”

He tells me to find his patrol, and gives me twenty-five crowns for the task. I bow graciously, and giving my captured armor to Benton to sell on my behalf, I then head off in the direction of the ravaged farm. I take some replacement arrows from one of the lord’s guards as I depart, hating to leave with a depleted quiver.

Cold, tired, and sore, I stop at the Sharp Gait for a warm meal before I start my search for the patrol and raiders. The inn is unusually quiet. Duca seems to be in a somber mood, cleaning some plates by hand, rather than with magic. Glogin nods at me, and has Isabella bring me a bowl and some bread. As I sit, I notice the youth sitting in the corner. His tear stained face seems dead to all going on around him. “That’s the boy?” I ask as Isabella brings my soup. She nods and says that he won’t talk to any of them. I nod. “Yeah, it may take awhile.”

I quickly finish my stew and bread, and then stand to go. Duca says, “You were in the snow all night, you should rest by the fire,” when I turn to face her and she sees the look in my eyes, she nods, “I understand. It’s not your burden to take, but do as you will.”

“You say that as though you’ll miss me,” I reply. She answers that people come and go from inns all the time, but some customers she’d rather see again more than others. I chuckle as I walk back into the cold.

The patrol’s trail is easy to follow, horse hooves in the icetopped snow make easy tracks to see! As I leave Tellog though, I hear one of the few remaining guards trying to reassure a woman that the village is safe. “But orcs!” is the last word I hear as I walk past.

It is late in the afternoon when I reach the ruined farmstead. I’ve not seen the patrol, or any sign they had returned the way they had come.

The farmstead itself is barren, and burnt. The livestock has all been stolen, and it looks as though the people were all taken as well. Normally, goblins would leave corpses of their victims stretched out on display as a warning, but these orcs? They must be orcs…but there is no blood anywhere. Did they perhaps take everyone alive? No valuables were left behind, the larder was raided.

Judging from the tracks, there must have been well over a hundred orcs! Not just warriors though, but children as well, and sledges of supplies. They seem to have come from the forest to the south, and returned the way they came. For some reason, the five man patrol has chosen to follow their trail. Perhaps they too realize the family had been taken captive and hope to affect some kind of rescue?

“May the gods give me strenghth,” I mutter as I set off on the trail of orcs and men. Hoping to reach the patrol before the orcs realize they are being pursued.

As the sun sets, I come across the corpse of a bear. The animal was imaciated, as surely it must have been hungry to end its sleep early and come out into the snow! I judge from the tracks that it must have ambushed the patrol, but they made short work of it judging from the lance wound in through it’s neck. Clearly, Sir Anthony is leading the patrol, as he is the only lancer Sir Tellog had in his garrison. Unfortunately, I know little about him or what is driving him.

It is cold, and I am exhausted, but having no firewood, force myself to press on! Driven by the memories of trolls murdering my family and kin. And of the look of shock in a child’s eyes.

I must have gotten lost in thought, for I suddenly see dark shapes and rows of eyes in the gloom ahead, staring at me. My bow is drawn in an instant when I realize, these are cattle! Wild cattle! They are watching me, warily. I slowly step backwards, to give them distance, and peace, less they decide to trample me for good measure. A few snort, and their smoky breath is carried away in the wind.

I cut back to the west towards civilization. Hoping to find some shelter from the cold.

Quiet 12th day,Dames Day, 25 degrees, heavy blizzard, 15″ of snow will fall over the course of the day, leaves and small twigs in constant motion, flags are extended in the wind.

As the temperature plummets through the night, I realized I cannot keep going. I find a ravine to provide a break from the wind, and weave together a mesh of branches for a roof. Lighting a torch will provide some warmth, as the windbreak gives it shelter and making my lean-to as small as possible, double’s its effect as I curl up inside my blankets. Then the snow begins to small and I mutter a prayer that I be warned and awakened to any danger that might approach. The torches I have carried in my pack will keep the fire going throughout the rest of the night if I can just keep from drifting off.

The snow falls.

I awaken, shivering as a clump of snow falls on my head. So much has fallen that my lean-to has caved in on itself and on me! I light a fresh torch and huddle up for greater warmth, holding my blanket overhead until my shivering stops. So much snow is falling now that I cannot see more than a few feet away.

“I’m a damned fool,” I tell myself as I struggle to my feet. With my blanket wrapped around me for extra warm, I start walking, following the streambed. It will lead me west to the Green River, eventually. And likely to a farmstead if I can spot it in though the snow.

Instead, I come across a caravan wagon, tipped to one side and blocking the ravine. I climb inside, and am surprised to see that its occupants must have just abandoned it. Locked trunks, shelves spilled open, sacks of food…and bloodstains on the walls. I find an oil lamp and light it. Closing the door, between the lamp and my torch, the abandoned home is soon rather cozy compared to outside. My outer garments begin to dry as I poke around the belongings of my late benefactors.

I can see that at least one man, one adult woman and a couple of children had lived in this wagon when it was on the road. At least one of them was killed, and some goblin used that person’s blood to draw and image of their god, Muglabiyat and the words “Deathbringer” over it on the what was the ceiling of the wagon. The blood is all dried now. There aren’t really a lot of odds and ends left behind, a lute and a couple of flutes, some colorful clothing, and the food. Odd that goblins would leave food behind. They must be eating very well these days!

Quiet 13th day,GodsDay, Feast of Surrender, 27 degrees, 21″ of fresh snow on the ground, small branches sway in the wind, and the fresh powder picks up in the heavy breeze

I wake up refreshed, glad to have plenty of fresh food instead of just the dried meat and fruits I would normally have to eat on a trail like this, but when I try to open the door to get out of the caravan, I notice that it is frozen shut! So much snow must have fallen and drifted up against it, that I cannot get it open!

Instead, I have to force open one of the windows that now opens skyward with the wagon tipped as it is. It seems most of the snowfall that landed on top was blown off before it got too deep. And though it is a very tight squeeze for both my pack and myself, I am able to climb outside into the open air once more. A man free from his tomb!

I fetch a couple of dresses from below, and drape one beneath the window shutter to make it easier to reopen, and use the other as a banner on the end of my shovel, which I plant on top of the wagon so I can more easily spot it should I need to return.

There is no hope of following the orcs or the patrol now…except, that I see a group of horsemen riding my way. They have three people on foot with them. I wave to the men, and they ride towards me.

“Sir Anthony?” I call out, recoginzing Tellog’s insignia on the men. “I was told to find out what happened to you, but got cut off by the blizzard.”

“The blizzard that saved our lives!” the knight boasts, “it allowed us to rescue three of the orc’s captives and escape with our tracks concealed!” he beams. I look over the people on foot, a young woman, teenage girl and another girl of maybe seven years old. Though cloaked in horse blankets and tabards, they are gold and have been through a nightmare.

“Hold there,” I say somberly, “I’ve found some clothing for them.” I dive back down into the wagon and pull out the travelling cloaks that had been abandoned. “Now, let’s go.”

Sir Anthony looks down on me scornfully, “Huntsman, my liege may have sent you, but you don’t command me or my men. Now, let’s go!”

Chastened, I fall in behind his company, walking alongside the girls while the men at arms ride.

The men tell jokes about going home to one of their wives who will likely have a large hot meal waiting for them to celebrate their victory. The girls say nothing, I can see the shock in their eyes, the tear stains and bruises on their faces. They’ve lost their family, except for one another.

“They took all of your kin alive, didn’t they,” I ask the eldest of the girls. She casts he eyes downa and swallows hard. Tears welling up once more.

I put my hand on her shoulder, but she flinches and pulls away. “You’ll be safer in town,” I whisper the empty words, knowing they’ll do no good.

Late that afternoon, we reach Tellog, and are relieved to see some of Baron Estkap’s men now reinforce the handful of soldiers Tellog had held behind. When the watch spots us, there is a shout of joy, and Sir Anthony rides through the gate as though a victorious general bearing the spoils of war. I lead the girls to the Sharp Gait, to see their brother, only to realize on arrival, that they are not his siblings. He is overjoyed to see them, leaping from his chair and crying out in joy, but then looking past, “Where’s mama? Papa? Where’s my family?” The four are soon huddled together in tears consoling one another.

“You’ve done a good thing here,” Duca tells me. I try to explain I didn’t do anything but get lost in the snow, but she gives me a bowl of broth and takes me to one of her two guest rooms. “Eat, get out of your wet clothes, I’ll draw you a warm bath and then you need some sleep! Out there in that blizzard! Lucky you still have fingers and toes!”

I’m a lot hardier than I look, but I don’t know that I’ll ever object to a pretty woman doting over me. It is amazing how a bit of magic can warm a bath so quickly!

Quiet 14th day,MarketDay, Feast of Surrender, 27 degrees, 21″ of fresh snow on the ground, leaves and small twigs in constant motion, flags extended

I don’t remember climbing out of the tub and into bed, but I wake up under warm sheets on a soft pillow. My clothing is laied out nicely, clean and dry. And I have a fine inn-room to myself…truly a rare delight!

I dress myself and go downstairs, and notice the place is still unusually quiet. With nobody coming and going, the dining room is quite warm from the fire, in spite of the cold outside. The few patrons who are present are local farmers, wearing their militia sashes, with their spears, shields or bows leaned up against the wall.

I ask Duca what is going on, she nods and a silver bearded man in the corner, talking to on of the baron’s men. He wears the garb of a royal battle mage. “Lord Camben is what is happening here. He has commanded Sir Tellog to muster his forces and prepare for battle. He says there is a great evil looming in the Axblight and intends to destroy it.” I ask if this has to do with orcs and goblins kidnapping people during their raids. She shrugs her shoulders.

Isabella pipes in, “That wizard is planning a war! Innocent people are going to die! He’s planning to murder innocent orcs and goblins because some runestones told him too!” I look around and then remind here there are some orphans in town who may disagree with her view of orcs and goblins.

Glogin pipes in, “So, orc raiders who kidnap an entire family for gods knows why are perfectly innocent, but I, who grew up here among men, and whose mother was a victim of innoecent orc radiers am some sort of savage to be tamed?: Flustered, Isabella retreats and runs outside, embarassed at her foolish words. I ask Glogin if he might have been a bit harsh. He sighs and goes out after her.

Duca laughs, “Kids. Do you think they’ll one day end up together?” I tell her the lad has a good head on his shoulders, and the girl is kind of cute…so maybe. If Isabella grows up and has a bit of luck. Duca laughs.

I hear the wizard and one of his men walk up behind me. “You are Trollscar, the scout, are you not?” the bearded man slurs. I nod, gesturing the the lines across my face. He smirks, but only half his face moves, the other half seems to be paralyzed. “You will join my expedition. I understand you know these woods and the ways of goblins.”

I tell him the goblins are acting strange lately. Hunting in the day, not taking food they find, kidnapping people instead of just killing them, and they seem pretty well fed too. The old wizard nods, and says “A great darkness will soon be unleashed unless we can prevent it. Orcs, goblins and trolls have fallen under the sway of a powerful demon, and plan to unleash it from the realms of torment…releasing it into this land. We are meant to stop it!” As I ask about where he’s going to get an army, the door bursts open and several more soldiers file into the tavern, cloaks covered in snow from a long march. The question dies on my lips.

Glogin and Isabella rush inside after the soldiers, Issabella running over to tap another keg while Glogin gets another pot of stew started. Duca starts bringing out tankards. I look at the wizard and say, “I really don’t want to…” but he cuts me off, informing me that Sir Tellog just paid me more than fortnight’s wages, and that now I work for him. I hang my head, then I pull out the warrant for Telphye and say, “With all these men, you must have a paychest from your lord, perhaps you can settle this account?” He laughs, and says that he is glad we understand one another.

With a nice bounty in my hand, I set about preparing for the campaign. His lordship sent more than a hundred men at arms and a dozen knights as well to aid his court wizard in this task. Add to that about two score of Tellog’s own miilia men who have been called away from their homes to fight. And me!

Benton brings me some coin from the sale of Telphye’s armor. He’s also doing a bit of business among the newly arrived soldiers. The tavern is full, and the room I had slept in the night before rented out to one of the knights. A preening sort who does not wish to sleep in a tent, I guess. I give a dozen crowns to Duca in thanks for he hospitality, more than I owed, but what is the point of coin if not to spend it? Of wealth if not to share? I buy a tent from Bella, and then visit Pirithin’s Hourglass.

I’ve not spent much time at Pirthin’s for I rarely have money for medicines, and just as rarely, any need for it. But I’ve seen magical potions that can heal a grievous wound with but a drop, and there are salves and antivenoms as well. Pirthin, his bald head shining in the candlelight of his store, looks up at me with an eager sadness. “Ah, you must be the one who rescued Benton from those goblins?” he asks with a whistful gleam in his eye. “To know the thrill of battle once more. The clash of steel!” The old man loses himself in his reverie. I tell him it was nothing, just cold blooded murder, a couple of arrows in the backs of fleeing goblins. No glory, just putting down vermin. He kind of bristles at that, but then gets down to business. He sells me three magical healing draughts, and a potion that he says will keep me as warm as on a summer day and for just as long. While my cloak has served me well, it seems prudent to buy that as well. I also pick up a pouch of bandages and poultices for treating wounds in the more traditional way. He wishes me luck in the coming days. “Bring glory in your youth! For it fades with time.” I nod and thank the old man.

Returning to the Sharp Gait, I see the battle mage talking with two of the knights, a couple of sergeants, and the leader of a band of tribesmen who have just arrived. They seem to be discussing how best to find the orcs and put a stop to whatever ritual they have planned. I walk over to the table in time to hear the phrase “Crystallian Delve”, but they stop talking. “What do you want?” sneers one of the knights.

“To know where we are going, if we are to stop some demon from entering this world,” I reply, calmly. The battlemage, who’s name I still don’t know, tells me to wait outside with the rest of the men for my orders. I excuse myself and go to sit on the porch where several soldiers wait. Others soldiers are inside the houses of villagers, to keep from the cold, while horses are tended to by servants who are forced to endure the cold.

I notice one of the soldiers looking me over, “What do you think you are going to do with that hunting bow of yours? Bag some goblins? I bet you’ll be running for you life the minute the fighting starts.” I turn to face him so he can see the scars on my face, and I quietly tie my ribbon of valor around my arm. The man falls silent.

(ambiguous event-Opening of Love, something positve for Pioter, Arrival of Travel)

“That shut him up, didn’t it?” Looking up, I see a very slender, black hooded woman on a horse, with a second horse trailing behind. She wears a thick leather jacket like my own, and has a squiver slung over her shoulders. A short hunting bow is cased to her mount’s saddle. I reply that I guess she must be a scout or a free sword. She chuckles and replies she’s just another ne’er do-well tagging along behind a brave band of soldiers, hoping to be of use some day. I nod towards her bow, and remind her that one well placed arrow can end a war. She introduces herself as Joan, but smiles and winces when I answer that my name is Trollscar. As she leans down to shake my hand, I notice a long scar across her jaw, and another down her eye brow. I pretend not to notice.

“Do you know much about what exactly is going on?” I ask her. She says no, and explains that when she saw five score men heading out of Estkap armed for war, that she figured she’d best follow. If there is a battle to be won, she’d like to be part of it, and if there are spoils to be had, she’d like a share!

I invite her to sit, and we spend the better part of an hour just chatting. She tells me she is from Caravos. That her father was a soldier and died in the Goblin Wars. That she used to help out in the forge when she was young, but left home two years ago. She wants to recover her father’s blade. He used to tell her that it was the sword of kings, given to his great grandfather and handed down through the family for generations and he was going to give it to her when she came of age, so she could pass it on to her own son. But it was lost in battle when he died. She hopes to find it…some goblin in the north must have taken it, she is certain! She laughs when I tell her she doesn’t look big enough to handle a legendary sword, and admits that no, she wasn’t good with hammer in the forge either. But it is still her birthright! I nod in agreement.

After a time, one of the captains steps out of the Sharp Gait to tell us to pitch camp her in town, wherever we can find shelter, that the company will head out in the morning. I ask where we are going exactly, and he abruptly turns and goes back inside the inn. Joan asks if I know anyplace to stay, and I laugh, replying that I normally sleep in the inn, but I just got kicked out by the commander.

Then I see Benton, he is selling trinkets and good luck charms to the soldiers, promising to buy trophies from their victory when they return. I ask if he has good lodging yet, but the family he is staying with is already overcrowded with him as their guest. I then ask Glogin about lodging when I see him carrying out some garbage, and he tells me to go ask his mother, and tells me how to get to her house.

Essie is a decade or so older than me, and has long blonde hair, and crooked teeth. She enthusiastically shakes my hand when I tell her I am a friend of Glogins. “Oh, Trollscar! You don’t know how much my son admires you! He wishes to travel the world and see the sorts of advntures you’ve been through!” she gushes. Fortunately, her home is a large one, and she is able to to offer Joan and I each our own room. “I, uh, inherited this place from my father. It seems rather empty now. I have thought about renting it to lodgers, but i don’t want to butt heads with Duca. She’s been so good to my boy all these years!” I looka round her small living area, and notice the bowls and jars of dried leaves, husks of dead insects, and other things. And seeing my wandering gaze she says, “You do know that I am Pirithin’s neice, right? I make a lot of his salves and potions. My uncle is getting on in years and his eyesight is slipping. Don’t want to mix the wrong ingredients together, do we?” I nod appreciatively. And make myself comfortable. “Ooh, that is a nasty scar you have there Missy!,” Essie exclaims when Joan lowers her hood.

Joan gasps and nearly draws it back over her face, but I stop her. “It’s alright, she doesn’t mean anything by it.” Essie is fumbling over herself apologizing, and then offering us tea and biscuits, and promises a fine meal to make us feel more at home. Sadly, however, the mood has soured, and Joan says little the rest of the evening. Essie and I talk about the village, the people in it, the Axblight, about Glogin’s childhood and about the niaive Isabella. As the hours draw long, Joan excuses herself, and a short time later, I do as well. Enjoying one last night of peaceful sleep before war comes to the Axblight.

Quiet 15th day,SunDay, 30 degrees, 21″ of snow on the ground, leaves and small twigs in constant motion, flags extended

The next morning, Essie fixes us breakfast, and Joan and I set off to join the rest of the me. i leave a couple of crowns behind in thanks for the hospitality. We quickly join the others, and Joan asks, “You know how to ride, right? Best to take Shayla here…keep your feet out of the snow. She’s a good horse, for riding anyway.” I thank her.

As we set out, the captain calls the two of us over. “You’re Trollscar, right?” I nod, and he smirks, “We are searching for the Crystalian Delve, a cave complex somewhere in the Axblight about twenty-five miles southeast of here. The place should be crawling with orcs, goblins and trolls. We need you to ride ahead and try to find it for us, so you can help lead us to it. Don’t go it, just locate it. We need information not dead scouts!” Before I can speak, Joan pipes in that they can count on us! The captain snorts dismissively, and the girl shares a frustrated glance. I nudge my horse ahead, and we set off towards the forest.

“Have you ever heard of the Crystaline Delve before?”, Joan asks eagerly. I shake my head, and tell her nobody’s mentioned it. The people of Tellog must not go there. it’s a bit far away. I then notice other pairs of scouts being sent off, and Joan asks if they’ve got our same mission. I tell her it’s likely. She answers, “Well, we’ll just have to find it first!” I enjoy her enthusiasm.

Well ahead of the main body, we are about two miles into the Axblight, when I hear the sound of crows cawing. I tighten my grip on the horse’s reigns and unsling my bow from its sheath. Joan gives me a puzzled look and draws out her bow as well. I slide off my horse, and signal for her to wait. She slips down as well, and taking my animal’s reins, kneels down to wait.

I begin creeping the the woods towards the cacophonous sound of hungry ravens. Soon, I see the birds. They are tearing at the flesh of men half buried in the snow, getting at remains the wolves left behind. From the looks of them, I’d guess these are EbonSpear tribesmen, like the mercenaries who joined our company the day before. There are some broken goblin arrows, but no signs of any goblin dead. Nine bodies in all though. I’d guess they went down fighting, but wolves and crows have already made a mess of their remains.

I look back at Joan who has followed me, horses in tow, apparently having grown impatient while I investigated the scene. “Who were they?” she asks, regarding the carnage in disgust. I tell her my guess, but then point out that it happened before the blizzard, so there are no tracks to follow. “I guess they died in vain,” she says quietly. We offer up a pray to the gods of warriors, that these men be taken into their house. Then we continue on our way.

Some time later we come across a hunter’s cabin. The door has beens smashed through and then ripped from its hinges. Inside the cabin are the remains of eight men and women, all half eaten, except one, whose corpse is pinned to the cieling with spears through his hands and feet, and his entrails draping down like a curtain. Then I see the words, “Deathbringer” written on the cieling over the man’s head. But it’s written in trollish symbols. Joan sticks her head inside the cabin and the look of revulsion is obvious. “We’ve got to put an end to this,” she says quietly. I nod in agreement.

As the sun begins to wane, we flush a group of deer from their hiding place. I wish i could get a shot at one, but from horseback, that’s no simple matter. “Well, best to set camp, and look for this cave in the morning,” I suggest. Joan looks at me worriedly and asks if that’s wise. We may freeze overnight without a fire, but with a fire, goblins will find us. I smile, “if goblns find us, we can follow their tracks to the cave! That’s the plan1” She looks at me in shock.

With her help, I quickly construct a shelter, and get a fire roaring in front of it, and tether the horses loosely nearby. Then we take shelter some distance away, taking great care to conceal our tracks in the snow. and we climb up into a tree to observe. “We are going to freeze up here!” Joan warns, but then I pull out the vial of warmth Pirithin sold me, drink half and offering her the rest of it. Tasting it, she smiles.

“I’m told we’ll be as warm as a summer’s day, half a dose each should see us through morning!” I smile. Then I mutter a prayer that we should be warned if anything draws near.

Quiet 16th day,MoonDay, 33 degrees, 21″ of snow on the ground, smoke drifts slowly to indicate the wind’s direction. Leaves and weathervanes stationary.

We wake in our tree the next morning. Not seeing any signs of movement other than the two horses, I clamber down from the tree, circle the camp looking for tracks, and then joining Joan inside where she is already getting the horses ready. “See anything?” she asks. I tell her i’d never before wished to find goblin tracks in the dawn’s light.

If the directions given were right, we could easily be within a couple of miles of the Crystaline Delve, but funding a cave entrance of unknown size in a forest is a tricky thing. We start riding though, looking for tracks to follow. We spot some deer, stripping bark from the trees, and i follow their tracks for a bit, hoping to find signs that a goblin might have picked up their trail. Sure enough, I find some goblin tracks in the snow. Or something the size and gait of a goblin anyway. We follow the trail back a bit, and find where they had actually ambushed the herd, killed and butchered an animal. Some goblins went back home while the lone goblin I had been following went after the herd. We follow the group of tracks until we come to an area where many feet have recently passed, going in every direction. There are goblin, orc and troll tracks. “This must be the place,” I warn Joan, and we back away to where we can observe unseen from a distance. I try to conceal our passage as best i can.

With a bit of distance between us and the cave entrance, we built a large fire, which is hard to get started as the snow is melting a bit and everything is wet beneath it. We just have to start it small. Joan keeps watch while I try to get a pyre of smoke to rise. I am very grateful that goblins rarely venture forth during the day, for a patrol of horsemen soon reach our position with word that the rest of the column is following them. I point out the entrance to the cave, and they seem a bit concerned about how small the fissure in the ground is. “Our numbers won’t really help us there,” they observe. I point out that neither will their enemies, and there were at least a hundred orcs in a single band raiding farms near here. “Go in and check things out,” commands the sergeant. I object that I was specifically told not to enter, but he repeats his order. I shake my head, and start towards the cave entrance, unslinging my bow, for all the good it will do me in close quarters. Joan hurries after me.

“Are you going inside? We were told not to go inside! I am coming with you! Maybe one of them has my father’s sword,” she says as she follows close behind me.

On reaching the cave entrance, I peer inside. Darkness…it is a cave after all. Joan lights up a torch, and we step inside. Though the cave dives down into the earth rather sharply, it is not a true drop. We can easily walk it, as long as we keep our footing. Doing so becomes much easier as we get away from the icy slick entrance.