07 March 2021
The party
· Kisandra Starlight – Half-Elf Sorceress (Heather)
· Barendil Dawnwood – Elf Ranger (Robert)
· Guillerme don d’Lyonne – Human Paladin (Martin)
· Friar Buck Norris – Human Cleric (Silas)
Nobby Nobbs – Human (probably) Rogue (Tom)
Previously...
Guillerme searched through his pack, looking for the letter he had written to his father the night before. He eventually found it but felt sure that he hadn’t left it in that pocket… and he was pretty sure that he hadn’t folded it like that. When he joined the rest of the party for lunch, he felt their eyes on him. He knew it. They’d read it. Nobby must have taken it from his pack – no one else had such light fingers.
The paladin did his best to maintain his dignity, but couldn’t
stop his cheeks from reddening as they made ‘subtle’ comments about it. He
sheepishly tried to ignore it and refused to answer any questions. The letter
was his business, to be sent to his father, it wasn’t supposed to be read by
his companions! Though, frankly, he felt more relieved than anything that they
responded with humour far more than outrage. It could have been worse.
In an attempt to change the subject, Guillerme pointed at
Droop, who was sitting attentively by Buck’s side.
“You found the goblin then?” asked Guillerme.
“Yep, all by myself, didn’t need any help from anyone… just
like you and that owlbear!” laughed the Friar.
Guillerme felt his face flushing again, but persevered and
asked when they would be leaving Phandalin. Did they have any more business to
attend to before they headed for Thundertree? Had Droop managed to remember
anything about Cragmaw Castle – how were they going to find that den of evil
and, hopefully, rescue Gundren Rockseeker? Was Thundertree going to help them
in their primary objective of finding Wave Echo Cave and reclaiming the Lost
Mine of Phandelver?
“We need to go to Thundertree,” said Kisandra with
conviction. “We owe it to poor Mirna and her children to find her heirloom. And
I am intending to return it to her,” she said as she glanced meaningfully at
Nobby, “I’m not interested in the profit from it, and she deserves it for all
the pain she has suffered. Who knows where the road may lead us from there, but
I think it is worth the journey.”
Barendil nodded and said, “I agree, Thundertree is the
immediate goal. I must visit Daran Edermath once again before we leave the town
though. I received an important message from him, and I would like you all to
join me if you don’t mind.”
“Ah, that reminds me,” said Kisandra with a finger in the
air. “I, too, have an errand – to see Sister Garaele. I don’t mind if you wish
to join me or not, it’s up to you.”
Barendil decided that he would go with Kisandra as it would
be pleasant to revisit the friendly Sister at the Shrine of Luck. Nobby
declined and said that he would return to the Miners Exchange to see if he
could find anything useful there – papers or documents that may give them
clues. Friar Buck finished his mug of ale and announced he would join Nobby,
perhaps providing a suitable distraction to aid the rogue in his
investigations. Finally, Guillerme decided he would go to visit Sildar
Halwinter to appraise him of the situation and investigate whether there were
any further instructions for them. It was at this point that Guillerme proudly
told them that he had been formally inducted into the ranks of The Lord’s
Alliance by Sildar, so there might be some important business for him to attend
to.
Once their meal was complete, the party stood to visit Daran Edermath and then on to their individual errands around town.
The Order of the Gauntlet
Daran Edermath was at his usual position, leaning against
the fence with a mug of cider in his hand. The old adventurer was clearly enjoying
his retirement. He warmly greeted the adventurers as they approached his
orchard.
Barendil showed his companions the letter from Daran that
invited him to join the Order of the Gauntlet, and explained his intention to
join – on the proviso it did not negatively impact the current quest that the
party was engaged on. Daran assured him that it would not, and that in fact their
current endeavours were all things that the Order would be seeking to achieve
anyway. It was for their very actions that he had invited Barendil to join the
Order. Edermath went on to explain more about the Order itself and asked
whether any other members of the party wanted to sign up along with Barendil.
As part of trying to convince his companions that the Order was
worth their time, Barendil asked Daran if he would submit to allow Kisandra to
read his mind and demonstrate that he was telling the truth. The old adventurer
was quite insulted, totally unused to this sort of behaviour. It was only Kisandra’s
gentle manner, asking him if he wouldn’t mind her practicing her Detect
Thoughts spell (which was newly acquired) on him. He relented and agreed she
could do it once they finished talking, though in the end the party decided it
was unnecessary and so left Daran’s thoughts in private.
 |
| A letter from Daran Edermath to Barendil |
As Daran and Barendil were discussing the merits of the Order,
Guillerme appeared to snort in derision, saying that it was hardly the ‘Premier’
chivalric order in Faerun.
“Shut it, you
religious fruitcake,” snapped Barendil, not happy at the paladin’s attitude.
In an attempt to reduce the tension, Buck stepped forward
and asked Daran what would be the benefits of joining the Order.
“Aside from the knowledge that you are helping people – particularly
some of the people that are occasionally left behind by the Lords and Nobles of
the land?” asked Daran, glancing over at Guillerme. “Look, there is no bad
blood between the Order of the Gauntlet and Lord’s Alliance. We share many of
the same goals and objectives. We just look at things more from the point of
view of the general populace, providing protection and justice to all people –
not just the ones with money and status. In terms of what it offers its
members, well, as you rise in the ranks by proving your abilities, you gain
access to the various resources we have to offer. There is additional training,
vaults of weapons, operatives skilled in various professions that you might
find useful… these sort of things are reserved for those who are trusted and
respected within the Order, so are not available for new recruits. But, from
what I have seen, you are all well on the way to proving your worth to the
cause.”
Buck nodded, looking impressed with what he heard. He said that
he had been directionless since he left his comrades in the forest and being a
member of the Order of the Gauntlet sounded like it would give him the focus
that he so desperately feels he needs. Barendil echoed this sentiment. They
both agreed wholeheartedly to join the Order, much to Daran’s delight.
Kisandra politely declined the invitation. She declined so
politely that Daran didn’t realise at first that she was saying “no”. She
explained that she had other commitments to attend to, but was more than happy
to help her comrades as she was generally supportive of the Order’s goals. She
was just slightly concerned that their methods may be a bit too rigid and
violent for her. Daran took no offence at her position.
 |
| The ring Nobby stole from Hamun Kost |
Finally, Guillerme stated his position. At length. Essentially, he said that The Lord’s Alliance was his primary allegiance, though he accepted what Daran said about the Order and Lord’s Alliance being generally aligned in their objectives. He was willing to go along with any Order of the Gauntlet directions until such time as they differed from any commands from The Lord’s Alliance.
With that, they toasted to the Order with Daran’s cider and
he told them that he would communicate with his comrades in the Order regarding
what they had said, to complete the induction process for those who were to
full join. The party departed the orchard, going their separate ways to their
next errands before the end of the day.
Those Who Harp
Kisandra revealed a letter she had received, similar to the one
sent to Barendil, inviting her to join The Harpers. Sister Garaele was an agent
of that elusive organisation, and she felt Kisandra had the right qualities to
recommend her to join the society historically known as ‘Those Who Harp’.
 |
| A letter from Sister Garaele to Kisandra |
Barendil accompanied his companion to the Shrine of Luck, pleased
to meet Garaele once again. Kisandra gladly accepted Garaele’s invitation, and Barendil
thought sounded like an excellent fit and was more than happy to help. There were
clear links between the Order of the Gauntlet and The Harpers, though he understood
better now why Kisandra had declined Daran Edermath’s invitation.
The two of them remained at the Shrine of Luck for the rest
of the afternoon, socialising with Sister Garaele and enjoying some exquisite
elven wine.
A Distracting Proposition
Nobby and Buck laughed as they walked down the road towards
the Miners Exchange. Nobby wasn’t sure what he might be able to find that would
help the party, but at least it was doing something proactive that might be
useful. Maybe Halia Thornton would have some papers that indicated something of
value about the Black Spider or the Cragmaw Goblins, or something to solve the
mystery of why her business had been unmolested by the Redbrands. It was
unlikely, but worth a shot.
“So, I’ll go in and sweet talk the lady, then you can sneak
in and have a look around. She won’t be able to resist my charm!” said Buck. “But
what’s her name again, I forget?”
“Hagatha,” said Nobby, with the emphasis on the ‘hag’.
“Are you sure?” asked the cleric. “Doesn’t sound right…”
“Yeah, yeah, deff’nitly,” said Nobby with authority.
Buck shrugged his shoulders and decided it might be better
to try and avoid names if at all possible.
When they arrived at the Exchange, Buch headed in, putting
on his most sensational smile and did his best to sweet talk Halia without
inadvertently getting her name wrong. The hard, frosty woman was not warming to
his charms as most people did – Nobby peeked in the window and burst out laughing.
He knew he should be getting in there, but he just couldn’t stop giggling at
Buck’s plight in trying to ask this woman out for a drink.
Eventually, Nobby used his Disguise Kit to alter his
appearance and nonchalantly wandered in through the front door. By this point,
Halia’s attention was fully on Buck, with the prospect of a few ales later that
evening becoming more likely. She ignored Nobby, even when he sidled round the
counter. But, when he started rifling through her papers, he got a small
papercut on his finger and yelped in pain. Suddenly, she stared over and clicked
her fingers for her bodyguards to come out from the back room. Without a
backward glance, Nobby had vaulted the counter and sped out of the door,
completely forgetting about his companion who looked on dumbfounded. Buck
pulled himself together and attempted to maintain the ruse that he wasn’t
anything to do with what just happened – Halia wasn’t buying it. He backed out
of the door, waving apologetically.
“So maybe see you in the tavern later then?” he asked as he
ducked his head back out through the door, just avoiding the paperweight that
Halia had thrown at him.
He caught up with Nobby down the street, looking unimpressed
at the rogue.
“If you want some company mate, you can always buy me a
drink,” Nobby said with a grin. He just managed to duck in time as Buck’s fist
came up to cuff him round the back of the head.
Sildar
Guillerme found Sildar Halwinter in his office at the
Townmaster’s Hall, busily writing on reams of parchment. They greeted each
other warmly before the paladin got straight down to business and started
questioning the more experienced warrior regarding the situation in Phandalin.
Sildar confirmed that everything was quiet – the Redbrands were truly defeated,
things in the town were getting better, and more than that they were getting
supplies more easily thanks to the orc raiders at Wyvern Tor being dealt with
by the party. Things were really looking up for this corner of the Sword Coast.
SIldar asked Guillerme how their adventures had been going
and was suitably impressed by the paladin’s claim that he despatched the
owlbear they encountered, with only a little assistance from Buck.
“I’m just impressed you managed to get through an entire
fight without tripping over your own feet!” laughed Sildar, causing Guillerme
to look down at the floor in embarrassment.
In response to Guillerme’s question regarding what the party
should do next, Sildar reinforced the recommendation that they search around the
town for a goblin patrol that might know the way to Cragmaw Castle. He was
certainly concerned about the fate of Gundren Rockseeker, so the sooner they
could attempt to mount a rescue the better. He also said that there could be
others in the wilderness who knew the way, if they managed to ask the right
person.
Guillerme thanked Sildar for his advice and asked if there
was anything more from The Lord’s Alliance – either guidance or perhaps
assistance, something from their arsenal perhaps…?
“Oh you do make me laugh Guillerme,” Sildar snorted in
response. “Always looking for something. You’re on the right track with what
you’re doing, but you still have a long way to go to get to the top. Let’s go
and get a drink.”
The two of them returned to the Stonehill Tavern for some
ale and a game of Dragonchess. While sitting by the fire, Guillerme decided
that he would share his letter from Sildar with the rest of the group now, though
he would attempt to gloss over the fact he had kept its contents secret since
they had cleared Tresander Manor of Redbrands.
 |
| A letter from Sildar Halwinter to Guillerme |
Heading Back on the Road
Having finished their various errands, the party met for dinner
at the Stonehill Tavern. They discussed what they had each done in the
afternoon, with even the sombre Barendil laughing uncontrollably at Buck and
Nobby’s story. After that, they made plans for the following day. They questioned
Droop on the goblin patrols that might give them a lead to the location of
Cragmaw Castle – what sort of schedule they were on, where they patrolled.
“Gobbos don’t follow times,” the little goblin said, “They
just goes looking for people to rob.”
The party woke and breakfasted the next day, then headed out
onto the road to begin the journey to Thundertree. Kisandra started to muse
about potentially taking a more dangerous and winding path through the forest,
as they may be more likely to find goblin patrols there. As she was talking,
she suddenly remembered what Droop had said and put her hand to her forehead
while laughing at her blondeness; if the goblins were looking for people to rob,
they would be more likely to be closer to the main roads. They therefore stuck
to the Triboar Trail, heading west towards the intersection with the High Road
to take them north. This route would certainly be easier for most of them than
wandering through the Neverwinter Wood without a clear idea of where they were going.
It was going to take three days of marching to get to
Thundertree. They found a nice spot amongst the trees to make camp on the first
night out of Phandalin.
 |
| The adventurers make camp on their first night out from Phandalin |
Return of the Necromancer
Barendil had just returned from his first patrol of the
evening to the smell of roasting chicken on the spit. All seemed quiet in their
little camp.
 |
| All seems quiet in the camp |
A small noise alerted Barendil first, as the one with the
most sensitive hearing. Grabbing his bow, he moved forwards to investigate what
had made the noise. He spotted Hamun Kost, the necromancer, walking through the
trees towards their camp. How had he found them? Barendil swiftly knocked an
arrow to his bow in preparation.
“Hold, master elf! Where is my ring? I know one of you must
have stolen it – no filthy orc could have snuck in and taken it, so it must
have been you!” shouted the necromancer.
 |
| Hamun Kost has tracked them down! |
“All I want is my ring,” continued Kost. “It is an heirloom,
handed to me from my father, and very valuable. I knew something was wrong when
you never returned to claim any reward for dealing with those orcs at Wyvern
Tor – very suspicious behaviour.”
Barendil dropped his bow to his side and withdrew the arrow.
He couldn’t really argue with the necromancer – Nobby had stolen the ring,
among a few other things, and they hadn’t encountered any overt violence from
this wizard. The elf ranger said nothing and put away his weapons, stepping
backwards but remaining prepared to act should the situation escalate. Nobby
remained silent.
Guillerme strode forwards, trying his best to puff out his chest
and intimidate the necromancer into leaving. Hamun Kost laughed.
“I’ve seen far more frightening things than you, boy, across
the various planes of existence I have explored,” he said through chuckles.
Friar Buck furiously stepped up and thrust his finger into
Kost’s chest.
“He said, LEAVE!” roared the cleric with all the power of a thunderstorm.
The necromancer staggered backwards, taken by surprise at this
holy man’s fury. He rubbed his chest as he stepped backwards towards the trees.
“Fine, I’ll go,” began Kost. “But, if I see you again, I will
not be as charitable. I will have my father’s ring back!”
With that, the red-robed wizard turned on his heel and
stalked away through the undergrowth.
When he was gone, Barendil looked Nobby up and down, shaking
his head.
“I’m not going to defend your actions again,” said the elf, “Don’t
expect me to draw on your behalf if you’re going to do things like that.”
The ranger walked into the trees, to double check that there
was no remaining threat left behind by the necromancer, but the rest of the
night passed uneventfully.
Hobgoblin Attack
On the third morning of their march to Thundertree, the
party encountered a roving band of hobgoblins. The heavily armed and armoured
goblinoids eschewed stealth or subtlety and barred the road in front of the
adventurers. Barendil and Buck were leading the party forward, but it was
Kisandra at the back who acted first and sent a thundering Witch Bolt crackling
forward, completely incinerating one of the hobgoblins. Nothing was left of the
monster save a scorched patch of earth and a small pile of ashes – not even an
ear, much to Nobby’s disappointment.
Shocked at this display of raw, destructive power, three of
the remaining hobgoblins drew their bows to retaliate against the threat of the
sorceress, while the remaining two charged forwards to engage Buck and Barendil
in close combat. As they traded blows, the three arrows from the hobgoblins
behind flew over their heads, heading straight for Kisandra. Fortunately, she
managed to activate her Staff of Defence which glowed and extended a shimmering
blue Shield that deflected one of the missiles, but the other two thudded home
into her, knocking her backwards with significant force. She felt her dress was
drenched with blood and she scrambled backwards to the relative safety of the
same tree that Droop was cowering behind, un-stoppering a Potion of Healing as
she moved. Drinking the potion helped her wounds magically close, but she knew
that she had come close to death and looked appreciatively at the magical staff
as she leant on it for support.
 |
| A band of hobgoblins bar the road ahead |
After looking back to ensure Kisandra was safe, Barendil drew his magic blade, Talon, and attacked the hobgoblin in front of him but was unable to pierce its defences. To his right, Buck had better luck with his warhammer, landing a ringing blow on his foe but not managing to kill the hobgoblin. Before charging in himself, Guillerme cast a spell of Command to cause the hobgoblin in front of Buck to flee, allowing Buck the freedom to cast his own spell, Shatter, which dispatched two hobgoblins, including the one that was attacking Barendil. The elf immediately took the opportunity to charge in again, alongside Buck and Guillerme, to combine their arms against a single hobgoblin and quickly dispatch it.
Nobby, meanwhile, had been slinking among the trees,
impotently firing potshots at the hobgoblins with his crossbow. He had thought
he was safe as the more imposing members of the party were distracting the
enemy, until he was surprised by a couple of arrows slicing through the leaves
towards him. One of the hobgoblins was pointing towards the trees where Nobby
was hiding, shouting “There he is!” while the other fired at Droop, growling
“Stupid little goblin…”
This was soon followed up by the single remaining hobgoblin,
who charged in through the foliage to hack at Nobby with his enormous sword. As
the snarling face of the goblinoid thrust past the leaves, Nobby quickly drew
his own sword and scrambled backwards away from the monster. He heard a voice
on the wind – “keep it alive!” – and rolled his eyes. Parrying as well as he
could, Nobby tried to throw a net over the hobgoblin, but the powerful creature
threw the net to one side and continued on. The beleaguered rogue decided to
revert to using his words as a weapon, to convince the beast to stop fighting
and surrender.
“’ere, forget about these idiots,” Nobby said, “It ain’t
worth it, if you throw down your sword I’m sure they’ll let you live!”
The hobgoblin made a snarl that sounded like a laugh and
replied with another sword thrust. Nobby saw that his companions were running
towards him so gave the hobgoblin a little sardonic salute and slipped away
through the trees, out of range of the vicious sword.
“Give ‘im a good kicking lads!” yelled the retreating rogue.
Kisandra was leaning against a tree, breathing hard as the
healing potion’s warming effect spread through her limbs. She could sense what
was happening with the battle – a single hobgoblin remained and Kisandra could
feel his furious anger. She focused herself to dig into the creature’s psyche,
reading its mind. There was little resistance as she extended her consciousness
into the hobgoblin’s thoughts, detecting a mixture of rage and fear after
seeing its companions cut down. Before she could delve further into the
monster’s mind, Buck had struck it a punishing blow to the head which was
shortly followed up by Barendil smashing the hilt of his sword into the side of
its head, knocking the creature out cold. As the hobgoblin slumped into
unconsciousness, Kisandra could sense its realisation that it had failed in its
mission and she knew that a powerful individual had hired these hobgoblin
mercenaries.
Nobby kicked the hobgoblin between the legs while they tied
it up, with Droop running in and doing the same with a cackle. Kisandra came
walking up, using her staff as a crutch, and nodded to Barendil in response to
his concerned gaze. Nobby busied himself rifling through the contents of the
corpses’ pockets and performing his regular ear-ectomies while the others
splashed water on the hobgoblin’s face to wake it up so Kisandra could continue
to read its mind.
“It’s the necromancer, it has to be,” said Barendil with
authority when Kisandra told them that someone powerful had hired these
mercenaries to waylay them. “You heard them? They were after Nobby, must be
because of that ring.”
Nobody disputed the elf’s reasoning, and they all turned to
watch Nobby as he went about his grisly business. What a lot of trouble. They
returned their attention to the hobgoblin, who was slowly waking and starting
to strain at his bonds. Friar Buck decided a verbal confrontation might help
Kisandra’s mental efforts, so he slapped the hobgoblin round the face and
demanded to know who had hired it.
“Don’ts know,” came the reply. “Never mets ‘im. Boss says
there’s a job to do, we do it.”
Kisandra probed the creature’s mind, confirming the truth of
what it said. There was clearly a powerful individual paying for the hobgoblins’
services, but this one didn’t know who it was. Likewise, it didn’t know where
Cragmaw Castle was – the hobgoblin band had been hired at their encampment, far
to the east, so had no direct connection to the Cragmaws. Besides, by the way
he looked at Droop with disdain, it was clear that there was no love lost
between the hobgoblins and their smaller, greener cousins.
It was, apparently, Nobby who was the one with the bounty on
his head, and this was taken as confirmation that Hamun Kost had paid to have
the rogue assassinated in retribution for his theft. Suddenly, Nobby stood up,
holding a piece of parchment in his hand.
 |
| The hobgoblin bounty notice |
“What the ‘ells is this?!” he exclaimed, running up to the group holding a bounty note with his face on. More importantly, it was signed with the sigil of the Black Spider – something they had become familiar with from the correspondence found in Glasstaff’s chambers under Tresander Manor.
“It all traces back to the Black Spider!” said Barendil,
“But I wonder if we have already met him without realising it…?”
Kisandra shook her head. “I don’t think so my friend,” she
said. “The Black Spider is a drow – you and I would know if we had met a dark
elf.”
Barendil nodded his head sagely and then turned to Nobby and
grabbed the little man by the collar.
“This may not have been caused directly by that necromancer,
but we nearly lost Kisandra there. If it’s your fault, you’ll have me to answer
to,” growled the elf, his angry face inches from Nobby’s.
Nobby was used to this
sort of treatment – in fact, he quite appreciated knowing where he stood in
situations like this. Barendil’s manner reminded him of his old Commander.
“Yes, sorry Mr.
Barendil,” he said, in his most conciliatory tone.
The ranger released
Nobby, thrust his sword through the hobgoblin’s heart and stalked into the
woods.
Barendil – Better by Himself
Barendil later recounted the following events to the
party round the campfire.
After withdrawing his longsword from the hobgoblin's chest
and cleaning the blade on the corpse’s tunic, Barendil strode away from
the party in search of solitude within the peace of the forest. His elven form
soon blended seamlessly into the woodland shade and he vanished from mortal eyes.
After some 30 minutes of purposeful striding Barendil stopped, carefully
checked his surroundings, and then sat down, hidden beneath a fern bank.
Dappled in sunlight, his bow resting on his crossed knees and his hands folded
in his lap, Barendil slowed his breathing and soon entered a trance state
intent on calming his body and focusing his mind.
A short while later, Barendil’s falcon, Perry, alighted on
his bow and looked keenly into the elf’s half-closed eyes. Returning the
intense avian gaze, Barendil reflected that Perry was far more than an extra
set of eyes; she was a true companion and the telepathic link between them was becoming
stronger with time.
“Ah Perry, I welcome you in my time of trouble,” the elf
said as he stroked her head. “I am indeed sorely troubled, for in my battle lust
and with concern for Kisandra’s wounds I was motivated to take the pommel
of my sword to Nobby’s face… I could almost feel his nose and facial bones
snap and hear his screams of terror as I imagined cutting the necromancer’s
ring from his finger, for that was my intention. Elven blood, even half-elven
blood, is a rare commodity in this world and I will not, I cannot, tolerate any
unthinking actions that result in it being spilled. Thankfully, my intentions
toward Nobby were stopped by the killing the last and defenceless hobgoblin.
Its death brought me out of my battle fugue and back to reality, but only
just. I now meditate upon what I should do and the path I should take.”
Barendil sighed, dropping his head to look at the ground.
“The human… Nobby… threatens the party by his reckless
behaviour, stealing from the necromancer, an individual whose allegiance and
powers are unknown. This is not only a danger to the party but threatens the
success of our mission to find the dwarves. Such dangers and such threats aid
evil.”
Shaking his head, the ranger continued, “I sense great power
in the necromancer but until we know of his allegiance, I am bound to treat him
as neutral. His desire for the return of his property was valid and
rational, his request for its return was made without violence or the
threat of violence. If he is not evil, then the honourable thing would be to
ensure that his ring is returned.”
“However, if he is evil,” said Barendil, holding up his left
hand, “or about evil business, then Nobby has weakened him by taking the ring. Nobby,
by such an action has helped to fight evil. What to do, what do indeed…”
Placing his hands back on his knees, Barendil looked
squarely at Perry, who cocked her head to one side.
“My personal philosophy, and my newfound allegiance to the
Order of the Gauntlet, oblige me to uphold the principles of only acting
with the benefit of knowledge. But… inaction could cause the death of a
party member. Kisandra’s near-death during the fight with the hobgoblins is a
case in point, a fight instigated simply by Nobby’s presence. His presence,
but not necessarily his actions against the necromancer… Why did the Black
Spider target Nobby? Who is this Black Spider, what is his motivation?”
Barendil mused to himself.
Time crawled as the dappled shade flickered across the elf’s
impassive face. Suddenly rising in one fluid movement, Barendil shouldered his
bow and strode into the woods to rejoin his companions. As the bird’s perch was
taken from her, she beat her wings and followed, circling Barendil’s head as he
continued to talk to her.
“Perry, I cannot act without knowledge. However, every
action and every passing minute has the potential to bring me the knowledge I
require. I shall be watching Nobby, oh yes, I shall be watching him very
carefully indeed. One more slip, one more unthinking action and we shall see
what we shall see. Now, fly Perry, fly. Guard us against the denizens of the
forest. Be our watchword in the sky.”
Campfire Stories
Sitting around the campfire that night, the adventurers teased
the last remnants of rabbit from the bones and licked the gravy from their
fingertips before a soft noise caused them to look up in surprise and see
Barendil had returned from his nightly patrol.
“All is well my friends, we have a night of peace ahead of
us, the forest is friendly and we are in no danger of being disturbed,” the
ranger announced. He walked into the glow of the firelight, a serious
expression on his face.
“Although we have known one another but little time,” he
began, “I feel I should tell you some more of my background. Perhaps this will
help you better understand my actions – though I say now that my telling will
be brief for it is not a tale of joy.”
Barendil looked at each of his companions in turn. He had
their full attention, either by what he had said or how he had said it. He sat
down, adjusted his cloak, folded his hands in his lap and, in a low clear voice,
began to talk with his eyes seemingly distant and staring at the fire.
“I have told you that I am the last of my tribe. Well, ‘tribe’
is a rather crude word to describe my clan. I am the last of the Dragon Clan. The
Dragon Clan lived far to the east in a land little known to men and dwarves.
Little known to men and dwarves, but well known to the orcs and the filth that
ally with them. For many hundreds of years we and other elf clans warred with
the orcs, finally decimating their armies and sending them back to the northern
mountains and wastelands that they call home. I was born on the eve of their
vanquishment. Births are rare for elves and mine was the first for over 100
years. It was celebrated by all and I was named Barendil Battleborn by my clan.”
He cleared his throat before continuing. “With passing years,
rumours began to grow that the orcs were gaining in strength and cunning and
that their numbers were swelling under the leadership of a powerful shaman. My
clan sent out rangers, and spies.
Patrols were increased while our contact with other elven clans, as well
as human and dwarf settlements, was strengthened. But this was to no avail; the
presence of a new orc force appeared to be based only in rumour and not in fact.”
“My training included that of all elven folk, and I was
steeped in the knowledge of the forest and the sky; how best to live and travel
on the land. But, as a member of the Dragon Clan, I was also trained in the art
of stalking, hunting, and talking to dragons. This art also included the
killing of dragons, although this was rare for our territory was home to
neutral and good dragons whom we called friend; evil dragons only rarely
visited and were hunted and killed as a matter of clan pride. At the age of
200, I was deemed ranger-worthy and assigned watch duty on our eastern
boundary. Shortly afterwards came the night of death.”
There was a pregnant pause, laden with anticipation, before
Barendil continued. “It was a night of the dark moon when our northern rangers
returned with news of an orc host approaching in full battle dress, supported
by trolls, wolves and other fell beasts. Estimates indicated a force of 10,000.
I begged to join our warriors at the battlefront, but my age and inexperience
were against me, so I was sent to fulfil my watch duty, some twenty-five miles
to the east. No sooner had I reached my destination and climbed into the high
branches of an oak than I was aware of movement in the tree line: orc
skirmishers. I waited until they passed under me and then feathered four of
them with my arrows. Then, the vanguard of the orc host came, a solid wall of
marching orc pikemen followed by big mountain orcs carrying sword, axe, flail,
and mace. These were interspersed by orc archers mounted on hulking beasts with
trolls loping along beside them. The host moved in a manner unusual to their
kind; quietly, quickly and with discipline. Whatever their number was, it was
far greater than the host that my kinsfolk were preparing to face. I ran with
the news, returning in just five hours only to find my clan had been wiped out.
I will not dwell on details other than it was clear that there had not only
been a northerly orc host but a westerly host too. This pincer attack was
clearly designed to wipe out the Dragon Clan, in the most efficient and silent
method as possible. No homes were burnt, nothing destroyed, just the efficient
distribution of death by steel, claw, and fang. The orc hosts had combined and
continued towards the unoccupied hill country to the south. In shock, I
searched the fallen, finding the greatest of our warriors, council members and
my parents amongst the slain. My daze was broken by the sound of the vanguard
of the eastern hoard approaching so I gathered what I could and ran to the
north leaving 20,000 elven dead behind me.”
“Since the night of death, I have travelled in a westerly
direction, mostly living in the forests and periodically venturing into
civilisation. I did return to our village but only to find rot and ruin, of
this I will speak no more. I have given
up any thought of finding my kind and have vowed to slay orcs wherever I find
them. As a consequence, I am grateful to find companionship where I can, and I
see the opportunity of our group and that of the Order of the Gauntlet as a
stepping stone to provide some direction to my life path. That is, some greater
purpose other than simply spilling the blood of greenskins.”
“Thank you for listening,” the elf said as he stood. “On
reflection I shall continue my patrol, just in case.”
Before the adventurers could gather their thoughts, Barendil
had slipped into the night and vanished.
Welcome to
Thundertree
 |
| A welcoming road sign into Thundertree |
Waking early, the adventurers prepared themselves to enter the ruined town of Thundertree. They knew that they were close to the outskirts of the settlement and so it wouldn’t take long to get there. Kisandra stretched, feeling significantly better after her near-fatal experience the previous day, and Barendil woke feeling like a significant weight had been lifted from his shoulders after he had unburdened himself round the campfire. Gathering their things, the party stepped forwards and continued to head along the trail, following the river upstream and towards the forest. Gradually, the trail became an old, overgrown lane winding down towards the town and the adventurers stopped beside an old wooden sign which had a hand scrawled message nailed onto it. The message read “DANGER! Plant monsters AND zombies! Turn back now!” Unperturbed, the party decided to continue forth – Buck waxing lyrical about their duty and bravery thus far, launching into a thunderous sermon before looking up and realising Nobby was already 50 yards down the trail, whistling nonchalantly, with the rest of the party not far behind.
As the lane wound down into the town, the adventurers could
see a number of dilapidated buildings ahead of them. It appeared as though the
forest was gradually reclaiming the town of Thundertree as shrubs and trees
grew out from buildings that were crumbling apart. The centre of the road in
front of them was visible due to the deep ruts caused by cartwheels, but it was
difficult to see where the edge of it was as the vegetation was spread so
thickly.
Taking the warning on the sign to heart, they decided to
pause on the road between the first three buildings they could see so that
Guillerme could attempt to detect any undead nearby. After a moment meditating,
he pointed to the northeast at the least decrepit of the three buildings,
announcing that he could sense an aura of undeath emanating from that building.
He sensed nothing from the other two buildings.
Feeling confident about avoiding the undead creatures, the
party continued along the road. They were keen to follow Mirna’s instructions
to head to the east side of the town and find her hidden heirloom. As the road
began to bend towards the south, the adventurers could see a large, fortified
tower ahead, peeking up above the thick treeline in front of them. The tower
looked like it was sitting on a hill and appeared in fairly good condition save
for the fact that some of the upper floors and roof appeared to be missing. To
the south, the road forked in two and they could see further buildings in
various states of disrepair. The adventurers paused for a moment to consider
their next move.
 |
| The party's exploration of Thundertree ruins so far |
Next - Session 10 ⏩