"The Story So Far" is an ongoing
series recapping the details of a Dungeons & Dragons campaign
that I've been running since 2002. Links to the previous entries can be found
here:
Prologue
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13
I've
"fictionalized" the session reports in a likely-vain attempt to make
them more "entertaining."
And now, our story continues...
Earthday,
Earthlife 1st, 1492-supplemental
As the Fellowship made their way through town, they got to know their guide a little bit.
Kirbin Thornn
played by Mark
Race: Human
Class: Ranger
Height: 5'10'
Weight: 185 lbs
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Brown
"So, Kerbin," Lorelei began, her voice leaden with equal parts hangover and suspicion. "What exactly do you do at this camp?"
"Whatever needs doing," the ranger replied, his furtive eyes appraising every passer-by for a hint of threat. "Mostly I'm a chopper, cutting roads to new clearing sites, but lately I've had my hands full defending the camp from orcs...and trying to deal with all of these accidents."
"Has it always been that way?" Pol inquired.
Kerbin stifled a chuckle before responding to the warrior.
"Well, I'd be lying if I said that the boys weren't naturally rough and accident-prone. But lately it's been terrible, with three or four mishaps a day. If it keeps up, we won't have anyone healthy enough to work."
"When did this start?" Roman pursued, nimbly dancing out of the way of a matronly old woman carrying a brace of rabbits.
"A week or two, I suppose." the ranger replied, distracted by their sudden diversion away from the market. "Where are we headed, by the way?"
"The abbey," Roman replied. "I need to check on someone before we leave."
As the group entered the infirmary, they were taken aback to see Elster speaking to another dwarf. At first glance, they thought that Giran Oakenshield had experienced a miraculous overnight recovery and was now up and about. But, upon closer inspection, the adventures saw that the lord of Kiras Toth was still lying in state and this new dwarf had a conspicuously-absent facial feature.
Korrick the Beardless
played by Matt
Race: Hill Dwarf
Class: Paladin
Age: 42
Height: 4'4"
Weight: 210 lbs
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Black
Elster looked surprised and relieved when his allies appeared in the doorway. This was replaced by mild panic as the Fellowship instinctively started to back away, assuming that they'd interrupted something. Seeing this, Elster frantically gestured for them to come in and, when they hesitated for a second, he rushed over and physically ushered them into the room, as if desperate for reinforcements.
"Good day, my dear friends!" he entreated. "Come in, come in...you simply must meet this fascinating young man. I'd like to introduce Ser Korrick of Deepdelve!"
The adventurers slowly coalesced around the wide-eyed stranger, shaking his hand and exchanging names when prompted.
"So, what brings you here, Korrick?" Roman asked.
The dwarf suddenly looked like he'd been caught in a bullseye lantern while trying to a filch an apple. He looked sheepish and stammered for a bit before answering.
"Well, my master, Father Aeolyn, gave me a quest to go away from him and check up on things down south. But, when I got there, I saw that everything was all wrecked. So, after about a day or so, the guards gave me a new quest...to leave where they were and come here to check up on Mister Oakeyshield. So here I am!"
In the resulting gulf of awkward silence that followed, the Fellowship exchanged quizzical looks. Elster chuckled awkwardly.
"Well, that's quite the noble quest," the dwarven cleric said. "Aaaand, now that you've completed it, perhaps you should go back to Kiras Toth and update everyone there on his condition."
"Or," Roman said. "You could come with us. We've got a new quest and you're welcome to come along..."
All too late, Roman noticed that Elster had melted into the background and was desperately miming what appeared to be a stark warning.
"...that is, if you're, um, interested."
Upon hearing this, Korrick's eyes got as big as saucers and he exchanged excited looks with all of his new friends. When the new arrival happened to glance backin Elster's direction, the dwarven cleric's facial expression instantly flipped from vague horror to a nailed-on smile, followed by a spontaneous thumbs-up.
When Korrick looked back to the group, Roman actually felt the flurry of daggers that Elster launched from his eyes.
***
Roman watched intently as Elster puttered about his temporary quarters, preparing himself for departure.
"I'm sorry," the priest lamented. "I just though he could be of help."
The dwarf gave a world-weary sigh as he shoved a tinderbox into his backpack.
"I should be the one apologizing, lad," Elster said. "I only spent a few hours with the boy this morning, so I shouldn't be so quick to judge him."
Roman scuffed the toe of his boot on the flagstone floor.
"Do you trust him?"
Elster spluttered in reaction to this question.
"Moradin's Beard, Roman!" he said, throwing his hands up in the air. "You were there! You met him! What do you think?"
The dwarf pointed vaguely towards at a multi-pouch belt hanging from a clothing rack in the corner of the room. Getting the signal, Roman retrieved and delivered it to his friend as Elster kicked off his sandals and dug his adventuring boots out from underneath his cot.
"I'd say that he's as transparent as an Unseen Servant."
"Precisely!" Elster replied. "He's just young and green...and he's got a tongue on him like a clapper on a cow-bell. He never shuts up! Told me his entire life story this morning. Apparently he comes from a long line of talented masons in Deepdelve but he failed his apprenticeship and was effectively exiled from the city. Eventually he fell in with some transient human hermit and became a devotee of Heironeous, of all things."
Roman chuckled as he helped Elster into his chainmail tunic.
"He must be confused," the priest said. "No human being has ever traveled that far north. He probably mistook this Aeolyn character for a really tall dwarf."
"I can only tell you what he told me," Elster returned, donning his tabard of silver and earthen hues. "Sounds like his mentor was a bit of an ass to him. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that he sent the boy out here all alone on a quest just to get rid of him."
Roman's whistle was cut short by a grunt as he tried to heft his friend's backpack up and nearly bowled over from the weight.
"Wow, that's pretty cold. What do you have in here, gold bullion?"
"Poor lad didn't fare much better at Kiras Toth. He actually told me that the guards 'liked him so much there that they gave him a nickname'."
"Oh, no," Roman winced. "What was it?"
"Ore-for-brains," Elster said with a sour expression. "Sure, the lad might be a bit dim, but that's just plain cruel."
Roman clucked his disapproval and handed Elster his shield, emblazoned with the sigil of a hammer and anvil.
"So, do you really think you can find this unicorn?" the dwarf quizzed. "And, more importantly, do you think it can actually help Giran?"
Roman scrubbed his jaw with the palm of his hand, alarmed by the amount of stubble on his face. When was the last time he had a moment to himself, let alone to shave?
"Well, if you believe this ranger, the creature might as well be the camp's mascot. And I've seen the healing power of the unicorn first hand."
"Well, that's good enough for me," Elster pronounced, patting his ally's arm as he clinked and clanked towards the door.
As they passed by a familiar cell, Roman was suddenly reminded of something.
"Hold up, I'd better check in with Moira. Something seemed to be bothering her the last time we spoke..."
"Good luck finding her," Elster replied. "I haven't seen hide nor hair of her. For all intents and purposes, Regis seems to be running the show here right now."
Troubled to hear this, Roman made a silent vow to sit down with Moira upon his return and extract the truth from her. Like an abscessed tooth, if need be.
With a shared look of resolve, the pair left the abbey and headed off to the shopping quarter to find their allies.
***
"Wait, how much did you say it was?" Lorelei asked.
"Two thousand crowns!" Bria raged, kicking a rock out of her path. It clipped a fern and disappeared into the lush undergrowth.
"That's pretty steep." Pol observed, looking over Kerbin's shoulder to keep a sharp eye on the trail ahead.
"Right?!?" the thief replied. "What really galls me is that it would be at least half that price in Footholde, but Salim says it's because it costs so much to ship it to Castebridge. Blah...blah...blah...I mean, twelve-hundred, maybe, but double the price? That's highway robbery!"
"Hmmm," Lorelei sneered, taking in a deep lungful of air in an effort to offset her lingering headache. "I would have thought that you, of all people, would appreciate a bit of 'highway robbery'."
Bria glared at before before resuming her rant.
"So, I tells him, how about five-hundred? And then he just freaks out...ranting and raving about how I don't understand, how I'm trying to ruin him financially and make his kids go hungry and blind. I asked him to be reasonable but he just started waving his hands in front of my face and saying 'No! No! I'm done with you...you talk to my wife!' and then he just walked away!"
"And that's when she got the broom out, huh?" Roman asked.
"Yup," Bria said, picking up and throwing another pebble, this time at a nearby tree. "Barely got out of there with my life."
"So what are you going to do now?" Pol quizzed.
Upon hearing this, Bria merrily skipped over to the fighter, as if everything she'd been saying up to that point was an elaborate set up for what she did next. Pol half-watched as the thief started counting off her digits as she unfurled them one at a time from a tight fist.
"Five finger discount," she announced proudly, holding up and waving her open hand.
All of a sudden, Korrick stopped walking, plugged his ears with two chubby fingers and started singing at the top of his cracking voice. Everyone turned and stared at him, wondering if their new foundling was having some sort of mental breakdown. As soon as all eyes were upon him, the beardless dwarf stopped his caterwauling and tentatively spoke up.
"I'm sorry, Miss Bria," Korrick said, his face looking dire. "But it's not very nice to steal from people. If you do that, Mister Salim's kids really would go hungry."
The thief blinked at the dwarf as if he were speaking in some foreign language.
"Um, yeah," she said, dismissing Korrick's intense gaze with the wave of her hand, which she now looked at awkwardly. "I mean, I was, um...I was just kidding."
After sharing a hushed conversation with a clearly-irritated ranger, Roman cleared his throat and gestured for the Fellowship to resume walking.
"Sorry, but can we just pick up the pace a little bit here?" he asked. "Between all of the dawdling and yodeling, it's a minor miracle that we haven't been set upon by orcs...or something worse. Come on, Kerbin tells me that the camp is just around the next bend."
"Thank Khalreshaar," Lorelei proclaimed, casting her eyes skyward to the canopy of trees overhead.
As they resumed their march, Korrick sidled over to Roman and Pol.
"Notwithstanding the obvious impact on the wronged merchant, the concept of theft being a victimless crime is actually a myth since shop-keeps are often forced to increase their mean prices in order to compensate for such attrition."
With this critical footnote now delivered, the young dwarf double-timed his pace in order to catch up to Elster.
"He's a special one," Pol observed.
Roman nodded aggressively as Kerbin led them around the bend. All at once, the group found themselves strolling towards a cluster of six building. As they drew closer, they could see that every structure was constructed from large, stacked timber logs sealed together by some sort of crude mortar. Thick boards made up the roofs and and gable ends.
"Let me give you a quick tour," Kerbin said, pointing to each structure in turn. "That small one in the middle there belongs to Beren, the foreman. He lives there with his wife, Wilhemina. That other small hut is the van, or general store. It's run by Vestine, the camp's medic. She's the one who's partnered up with the unicorn."
The ranger paused before showcasing the larger buildings.
"That long house is the men's camp, where everyone sleeps. And, if you're wondering where all of those tantalizing smells are coming from, that would be the cook camp, over there. Likely that's where everyone is at this late hour."
Pol's stomach growled audibly and Lorelei hoped that her mild nausea might actually be a sign of hunger.
"Finally, over there you'll see the smithy, run by Denn. And, that's the barn, obviously."
The collective eyes of the Fellowship fell upon a large message painted on the latter structure's proverbial broadside. It read:
4 Days Hours Since Our Last Accident
Just seconds after digesting this, a ramshackle cart driven by a lone teamster suddenly whipped into view, blazing towards the cook house.
"Oi!" yelled the driver. "You falking bastiges bedder not 'ave eat all the beans on me!"
Without warning, the hub rivets suddenly popped out of the flange on the right wheel of the cart, sending it skipping off towards the cook house. With the horses still in full gallop, the cart immediately twisted, launching the lumberjack face-first into the dirt as the rogue wheel careened through the front door of the cookhouse like it was made out of paper.
Roman, Elster and Korrick immediately ran over to the teamster laying face down in the dirt and managed to stabilize him, although they could do precious little for his missing orthodontics. As the dust settled, the camp's inhabitants slowly began to filter out of the shattered cookhouse door, brandishing cutlery and faces heavy with resignation.
Instead of looking shocked by either the carnage around them or the presence of strangers in their camp, the lumberjacks just stood around and sighed. Eventually one of them, whom the adventurers recognized as Beren, shuffled warily over to the barn, went inside, emerged with a paint can and brush and then proceeded to make an addendum to the message on the clapboard.
4 Days Hours Minutes Since Our Last Accident
Next up: the adventurers try to solve the mystery of the camp's misfortunes and attempt to find the unicorn before time runs out!
***
IMAGE CREDITS
Korrick: https://fextralife.com/forums/p3266928/attempt-at-a-pretty-dwarf--an-exercise-of-minmaxing-sliders/
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