Page 8 - Humans, Gnomes and Bears, Oh My!

I soon found the tracks again but this time they were accompanied by human sized boot prints… this confirms the suspicions I have held for a day or so now that the animal, a bear of some not insignificant size, is being directed by some malignant malefactor and is not directly responsible for it’s action. I fear I will have a hard time convincing anyone of that though… it seems to me that the good folk of Tristor have a tendency to hang first and rationalise later!
 

 

We followed the tracks over the fields and through another piece of woodland and came upon another farm. This one seemed to have been skirted and as we approached to check it out just in case a Gnome, who later introduced himself as Zebele Cullen, came charging out brandishing a rusty spear. He asked us why we were on his land in a gruff and unfriendly manner saying also that we were too late, he had slaughtered all of his livestock already. I complimented him on his ferocity and his weapon of choice and we explained to him what we had found at the previous farm. He seemed sad and angry saying that he had told the Boscos to do exactly as he had done and slaughter their livestock but they had refused to listen, a sad fact that had probably cost them their lives.
 

 

Zebele had heard noises outside the previous night and had locked his farm up as tight as a drum so we headed off to where he said he had heard the sounds but lost the trail.

 

 

Time was marching on so we turned and headed back toward Tristor carrying the knowledge we had gained and the sad news we had to impart. We were met on the road by the scarred man in the brown cloak that I’d met in the Inn who had ridden his horse hard from the direction of the town. He pulled up sharply before us, sneering as he said that the constable was waiting for us a little way down the road by a copse of trees, that he might have some information for us but that we should mind our own business… the bounty was all his!

 

 

I thanked him kindly for passing the message on and gave him a cheery wave as he cruelly spurred his animal into a canter. People like him should not be given the chance to have an animal to carry them, it truly saddens ne to see such brutality. We made haste and soon found the constable’s horse exactly where the maimed messenger had said we would, although of the constable there was no sign.

Page 7 - An unfortunate case of butchery

Eventually we arrived at the Salford farm finding it much as the young lad had described, it was a sad sight of waste and desecration of something that to me is a vital part of life. The farm’s animals all lay slaughtered... their throats ripped to pieces and the stench of burned wood and flesh hung heavily in the air. The damage to the barn was obvious at once. The roof had gone and the interior walls were scorched but the fire seemed to have burned super hot but very briefly. My keen ears picked up the sounds of something in distress and on entering the barn we found a young calf pinned beneath a charred beam.

Even Brother James bulging muscles could not shift it alone so Bohun lent a hand and I pulled the calf from beneath the beam. As they dropped the beam the wall behind it waver and the whole damn building came crashing down around us! We scrambled to safety nursing cuts and bruises from the falling debris. Unfortunately the poor calf was not so lucky so our efforts proved to have been in vain. We dusted ourselves off and looked around the rest of the farm and my wolf and I managed to find the tracks of a large bear! We followed them into a field and found ourselves confronted by a large and very angry bull! I managed to calm it sufficiently so that we could make our way away noticing as we did that the bull had fresh blood upon its horns. Following the tracks through a bit of a wood and came upon another farm.

More dead animals littered the grounds and the house looked as though it had been broken into as well as the door was hanging off its hinges. Deep claw marks scarred the doorframe. The house lay in tatters, everything slashed and torn to ribbons. This looked different to the claw marks though, it was as if someone had shredded the furnishings with a blade! On searching upstairs we came across a painting of a man and his wife, an unusual find to be sure but in the next room we found under the bed the lady from the painting, murdered and with a metal claw embedded in her back!

I found another trail outside, it looked as though something had been dragged from the farm. We followed it and came across the man from the painting, half buried in the dirt. The poor man had been mauled and crushed to death and the bear had presumably buried him to come back and feast on later. Poor people, we will have to arrange to have them taken back to Tristor and treated accordingly.

Page 6 - Did I ever teel you the one about the Priest, the Nun and three bottles of Dwarvish sprit...

We walked to the temple and I have to say I was impressed at its size... It was a large building set up on a hill made from stone and whitewashed wood. We entered through large double doors Brother James ringing the bell just to the side of it to announce our arrival. We were ushered inside and I was struck by how austere and severe it was... it seems that Brother James has truly found his vocation just as surely I have found mine. An acolyte pestered him for his robe saying how he would have it cleaned and returned to him the following morning and Brother James explained that we were in a hurry to meet with Abbott Bathro, leader of the Pholtan church here in Tristor. On seeing the map the Abbott confirmed our suspicions regarding its contents and said he would present it to the ruling council. Our brief meeting completed we hurried back to the Inn just in time to avoid the curfew and all that missing the deadline would entail.

  
The night passed uneventfully unless of course you count Bohun's prodigious snoring... and after fulfilling my devotions I washed and dressed before making my way downstairs for breakfast. I had hardly finished before Brother James returned from his night within the confines of the temple. We decided between us that we should visit the Constable to find out what he knew. He spoke about the mutilations and when I asked him about the Rhenee curse he said much the same as Istella did, that the Rhenee were hung from the tree outside of town after some of the townsfolk were killed by bad medicine.  But that this had all happened just before he had arrived in town. He suggested that we speak again to the Abbott as he was here when this all occurred.

While he was speaking I happened to hear a growing hubbub outside and decided to investigate what was happening. Using my stature to my advantage I made my way to the front of the crowd that had gathered to find a young lad covered in drying blood. I got the townsfolk to give him some space by invoking the power of Brother James’ fearful countenance... It is lucky for me that they do not yet realise how gentle a soul he really is!

 

 

he lad told us his tale, a sad story about how his father had heard their animals making a rumpus and had gone to investigate. The barn the animals were in exploded just as he arrived and took the brunt of the debris and flame from the eruption. The Boy and his mother managed to get the good fellow back to Tristor and took him straight to the temple... Such a sad story, I truly feel for the family. The crowd started clamouring for us to do something and again Brother James had his desired calming effect on the people.

 
We took the boy back to the temple so that he could be with his family just in case the man took a turn for the worse. The good lady Salford gave us directions to their place and we set off immediately... We would move so much more quickly if Bohun and Brother James would ride I mentioned this to them but they both just gave me funny looks, more so when I suggested they ask to borrow some horses. Strange folk these humans...

Page 5 - Making new friends and under the influence with people

Over in one corner stood a man in a brown cloak with a scar on his face and a jaundiced eye. As I approached him he made some flippant comment about ladies gossiping to which I replied that I had come here to drink… he didn’t appreciate my quick wit and seemed in a foul mood so once again I moved on coming at last to a table occupied by three of the town guards.

 

I of course struck up conversation with the three of them complimenting them on their skills as warriors and trainers of men and saying how surprised I was to find such valuable soldiers still here in town and that they must be invaluable to the local captain as instructors for his new recruits. I think though there must have been some confusion as Istella, a lovely Half Elven lady, seemed to think I may have insulted them unintentionally. I assured her over a second round of drinks that I had done nothing of the sort and I am sure that she had just been attempting to lighten the mood which was, I have to say, somewhat sombre within the common room of the Inn.

We whiled away an hour or so in reasonably good company talking about the guards, the town and of course the malefactor that has caused such trouble for the good townsfolk. Pendrin said that at the Corris attack had been different than the others as the goats had their throats slit instead of being savaged by an animal! Curiouser and curiouser I said to the three of them. Istella then mentioned that she thought it was as a result of a Rhenee curse as some of them were hung from the Oak outside of town twenty years ago after poisoning some locals with their medicines. Three locals died apparently and another was blinded by the medicine... Surely only a fool would sell poisons to a town and then hang around to be caught?? As Istella finished speaking Pendrin and Flent abruptly stopped their conversation with one another after a pointed look, drained their mugs and left leaving me in her sole company.

 

We spoke of my home, the verdant forest, the farms, my parents own Inn that was large enough to cater for tall folk and of course the people and all the happy times we all shared there... Istella said with a sad smile about how nice it must be to come from such a place... maybe I should invite her to come for a visit? She looks the sort who would enjoy herself there and I am sure I detected a mischievous sparkle in her eyes throughout the evening.

As the evening drew to a close Anders rang his bell for last orders and Brother James returned from the temple asking me to go back there with him and to bring the map that we had discovered on the Orcs that had attempted to raid Gaeren’s place. I bid Istella a good evening and as we left Anders told us not to tarry too long as we had to be sure to obey the town curfew.

Page 4 - Just Inn time...

 

As we approached the Inn, a large three story white stucco place with black shutters, we could hear conversation coming from inside… heart warming rich sound that I knew so well from home. A young lad, probably no more than ten years old stood in front of a hitching post Gaeren asked him to take his animals and wagon into the yard and introduced the lad as Tim… he seemed like a pleasant enough youngster.

 

The inside of the inn was just as welcoming with the wonderful sounds and smells that I remember so well from home. Two large fireplaces crackled with warmth and I stood on the threshold a moment and let it soak into me. A giant bear of a man came from behind the bar and greeted us with a fine ‘welcome strangers’ smile and introduced himself as Anders Sogenford, proprietor of the inn which he runs with his wife Briget, Daughters Angrid and Gretchen and young son Ralph. We were shown to a table near to one of the hearths and ale and food were brought for Bohun, Gaeren, Byron and I while Brother James took his leave and made for the temple.

 

I asked Anders, a northern barbarian by all accounts, how he had come to own this place and he told me that he had inherited it, lock stock and barrel, thirteen years ago during one of the Troll Winters... He seems to have been quite the fighter in his day and obviously still spends some time outdoors as his skin has that ruddy weathered look. Anders warned us about some unsavoury types that have come to Tristor seeking to claim the reward offered for solving the mystery of the mutilations and warned us against letting them find out we were after it too. Of course I told him the truth... that we knew nothing of the reward and he laughed amiably and went back to his bar to serve another patron.

 

It was pretty busy inside in spite of the early hour, a couple of tough looking mercenary types were talking and laughing overly loudly which immediately made me discount them… all bluff and bluster! A couple of locals, farmers by the look of them were talking quietly and I was able to hear them talking about Corris’ place being attacked the previous day. I left them be and moved on to another of the Inn’s patrons… A Halfling in a fine suit of supple leather armour lay drunk as a lord by the fire and would not be roused... It is Halflings like that who give us all a bad name...

Page 3 - Tristor at last!

Just two hours after dawn this morning we had two of Gaeren’s cattle hitched into the traces of his wagon and headed off from the farm towards Tristor, which he assured us was barely two hours ride away. The journey was uneventful and Gaeren, ever the kind gentleman offered to let me ride in the wagon with Byron. We talked a little and she told me more of the family she had lost in the raid... She is a strange creature and I fear is still badly affected by the sad and senseless deaths of her family. I hope that her uncle in Tristor is kind to her...

 

Tristor at last came into view, it had taken longer than we’d anticipated as the cattle, unused to the traces and hauling a wagon, were difficult for poor Gaeren to handle a few times I helped him to coax the beasts onward.  As the road wound down the hill towards the town's palisade and wooden gate house I was struck by a solitary Oak tree that stood just off the way... There was nothing else  of any size as far as trees go nearby so I wandered over to investigate. It was indeed a strange tree, at the foot of it was a small posy of flowers bound with string... the flowers were long past their best but just above them on the trunk of the tree were carved the words ‘Death for Death’ and above on a high overhanging limb was an old scar, a terrible though now healed wound... This tree had been used as a scaffold, a sad abuse of this grandfather of the forest.

 

Returning to the wagons I told Bohun and Brother James about what I had seen and asked our good friend Gaeren about it. He was all set to reply when the town gates opened wide and within stood a posse of guardsmen, all clad in dark mail and a man on a horse dragging two large dead animals behind him. The man was clearly deranged as he was waving a loaded crossbow about like a Morris dancer’s hankie! He was babbling about being the town hunter and that we should stand aside...  In the end we did just that... you just cannot reason with someone who is touched by the malady of madness.

 

After the crazy hunter had gone on his way we made our way into the town through the open gates. Many whitewashed thatched houses, a wooden temple that I assumed was dedicated to Pholtus and a lovely Inn called The Sogenford Inn filled the inside of the wooden wall along with a slow moving, sun dappled stream. Gaeren directed us to the inn in spite of my protest that we should drop Byron off with her family first saying that we should eat and rest after our journey. I suspect the poor fellow was tired from his hours watching over us the night before, he really is not a spring green anymore!

As we approached the Inn we passed a garrison building where a warrior was training a bunch of new recruits. Old Bohun looked interested briefly before his lips curled sourly and he looked away again... such interesting people I am coming to know on my adventure.

Page 2 - A rough night

It was late or perhaps early when I heard the noise… a crunch of a heavy, hobnailed boot on gravel and the jangle of a weapon harness… something completely alien to the normal night time sounds of the farmyard. The fire had burned down to a dull red glow, not really giving us anything to see by but I could hear them speaking in hushed tones… Orcs! I said softly. Rising stealthily I moved and woke Brother James and Bohun whispering to them of what I had heard. Brother James entered the hall from the sitting room where we were sleeping the anger boiling off him in waves and saw a figure coming in through the back door… He charged the door and slammed it shut knocking the Orc from his feet… Another ran from the front door opposite trying to flank Brother James swinging his huge axe at his head and thakfully missing.

 

 

Realising that we needed some light I hurriedly lit a lamp and sent my wolf down the hallway to attack the intruder that had run past the door towards Brother James. Bohun moved up to the front door and was soon attacked by another Orc… all the while they were shouting in their guttural tongue ‘We die for the Watcher!’ The fighting was seemed to last a lifetime but soon the Orcs lay dead. Four Orc’s in total had attacked Gaeren’s farm and we had managed to deal with them all, though again Brother James, Bohun and my wolf had all been injured. Poor Byron was crying histerically and took a long time for us to calm... An understandable thing given that Orcs had murdered her family only a few short days before. I found myself wondering how she felt about Brother James... His Orcish parentage would be difficult for him to hide even with a bag over his head although he is perhaps the cleanest man I have ever known...

 

 

 

We dragged the bodies outside and I searched them to see what I could find. I turned up some coins, silver and gold and a crudely drawn map on a scrap of parchment. They were particularly ripe… even before they had been despatched! The map Gaeren was able to tell us showed the villages surrounding the Troll Fens so we assumed that these Orc’s must have been a scouting party sent by this mysterious leader of theirs The Watcher! all very melodramtic if you ask me.

 

We decided to settle back down and Gaeren set up watch for the rest of the night which thankfully passed without any further interuptions. As usual I was up before the dawn and said my prayers to the Green Sister and then broke my fast with bacon and honeyed oatcakes, very tasty indeed and all washed down with fresh milk from Gaeren’s cows. Given that Bohun and Brother James still suffered from the injuries inflicted by the Orcs and the fact that Gaeren’s horses were dead we decided to rest another day before heading into Tristor. I managed to spend some time walking around Gaeren’s farm... It looks as though he used to be a very good crop farmer but age has taken its toll and now all he has to keep the wolf from the door is his few cattle, now sadly depleted. I took solace in my pipe, more ale and the same hearty beef stew as the night before sent us, full of belly, to our beds.

Page 1 - The adventure begins...

And so today… finally… the road to our adventure has truly begun.. We have taken our first steps upon it with the stories we had heard of the fantastic lost treasure of an ancient Aerdi King hidden within the Troll Fens. These had soon given way to those of a terrible affliction being suffered by the good folk of Tristor. Some malevolent force was mutilating the townsfolk’s animals and I knew we needed to investigate it as soon as possible. Of course brother James agreed with me, his fervour shining bright enough to be mistaken for the lamps on a carriage and as Bohun said almost nothing pretty much all of the time we changed our course and headed for the town.

Things being what they are it was not long before we had cause to step from the path we had chosen for ourselves. A little way off from the town I heard a scream, a woman’s scream, coming from a farmhouse just a half a mile or so from the road. We, being the heroic types that we are , made for the farm with haste and came across a wagon that had been drawn by a pair of horses… I say had been as they had both been savaged by the Owlbear that was now bearing down upon an old man, presumably the wagoner, who tried valiantly to hold it off with a pitchfork! Protecting as he did so a young woman who clutched a dagger as a child would a toy doll.

 

 

 

Without any thoughts of our own safety we rushed to the man’s aid. We tried valiantly to surround the creature, which was in a pitiful condition, and attacked it. The fight was brief and bloody, with both brother James and Bohun receiving blows from the beast before we were able to put an end to its suffering… The poor creature was near blind and half starved and in the end i think it was a blessing, though I wish we could have finished it in a less painful way. Gaeren, for that was the manr’s name, had suffered a nasty wound from the creature which I treated with my magic. He was still very drained so I asked brother James to carry him inside the farm house where he was watched by the young lady with tear stained cheeks we’d heard crying out… her name was Byron.

 

 

When Gaeren had rested he spoke to us of what had happened to the poor girl… how he had come across Byron a few days before, her family had been slain by Orcs some days before but she had family in Tristor and was trying to make her way there to them. Kind man that he is Gaeren took her in and was preparing to take her into Tristor when the Owlbear struck! Byron felt she needed to help her benefactor and tended his wounds with delicacy and care but sadly her knowledge of the ways of healing had much more in common with a cooks culinary skill with herbs… I tried to advise her that what she was using would be better used in flavouring a dish but she said this was what her mother had taught her. I couldn’t bring myself to take that away from her the poor girl given her so recent bereavement.

 

 

 

 

The skills her mother had lacked as a healing herbalist she had more than made up for with the skills she had passed on in the kitchen. A stew she had cooked, from Gaeren’s prize heifer that had been slain before she'd arrived. Gaeren, not wanting to waste the meat had butchered it there on the farm. Juicy chunks of beef, a rich broth thick with barley, carrots and other root vegetables and all delicately treated with those wonderful herbs... tasty dumplings laced with grated horseraddish and fresh buttered bread rounded it off... It was almost as tasty as food from back home… Ah home, memories of home keep me warm on those long… sometimes very long nights on the road with my dear companions. I took the time to tend to Brother James and Old Bohun’s wounds, dressing them properly and ensuring that they were clean and the correct healing salves applied. Then with a foamy mug of ale and a pipe I settled down for the evening near to the fire to rest...