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Raiders of Oakhurst - A memoir of Erais Gunterson
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<blockquote data-quote="Colmarr" data-source="post: 4166850" data-attributes="member: 59182"><p>A chill wind was blowing in from the east as Oakhurst first came into view. At the time it was a welcome reprieve from miles and miles of deserted, wind-swept countryside. Looking back on that moment, with the benefit of hindsight, I feel as though something more spectacular should have happened as the little town appeared at the bottom of the hill below us.</p><p></p><p>We had been travelling north along the Great North Road for days and Kronos Keep, with its comfortable beds and readily accessible taverns, seemed almost a distant memory. Little did I expect that when I answered Amaunator’s call my first experience of adventure would be chapped lips and chafing blisters in newly-heeled boots.</p><p></p><p>However, He is wise, and I soon had ample demonstration of that. Nearing the outskirts of the little town, we could make out a clamouring mass of people in the town square surrounding a sacred statue of the Sun Lord. My hackles rose to see an aged man climbing onto the statue and I began to stride forward in rebuke, only to falter when I realised he was attempting to clean a red substance from Amaunator’s person.</p><p></p><p>A similarly aged woman, stooped and shrill of voice, stood at the base of the statue, decrying his efforts and condemning him for his devotion when “more pressing” tasks remained to be done. She gesticulated wildly around the square, pointing out broken windows and scattered debris. The old man, whom she referred to as Olvar, ignored her imprecations and continued his work. An amused crowd watched on.</p><p></p><p>I strode to his defence.</p><p></p><p>“Why do you harass this man for serving his Lord?”</p><p></p><p>Seeing my brandished holy symbol, the woman turned and, muttering to herself, scuttled away to the north. Olvar looked down at me and beamed the smile of the besieged. He clambered down from the statue and greeted me warmly, my companions taking in the damage to the small town.</p><p></p><p>Before we could ask what had happened, a member of the crowd stepped forward and introduced himself as Teren Oakhurst, mayor of the village and proprietor of Teren’s Provisions. He welcomed us to Oakhurst, and apologised for its current state. Even as he spoke, I could see his merchant’s eye assessing us, and it was not long before he asked whether we might be able to assist Oakhurst with it’s current troubles.</p><p></p><p>“Of late we have been beset by attacks. The red-eyed devils come in the night and raid the village, breaking windows and taking our livestock, while all we can do is hide behind barred doors. They show little interest in attacking the townfold directly and at first we had hoped that they would grow bored and leave us alone. However, they attacked again last night and this time they painted the town and the statue with chicken’s blood”.</p><p></p><p>I glanced in outrage at Olvar, who nodded sadly,</p><p></p><p>“And to make matters worse, we have not heard from some of the outlying farmers for many days now. I fear they have been the victim of attacks, but we cannot risk sending townsfolk out to check on them”.</p><p></p><p>Teren, perhaps sensing that he had piqued our interest, asked us for assistance. As if on cue, two men rode into the square and announced that they were heading north to check the farms. Teren shook his head sadly.</p><p></p><p>“Young men,” I called to them, “stay a while and discuss the situation with us. Perhaps we can be of assistance.” But they either did not hear or chose to ignore me. They rode north out of town without a backward glance. I cast a blessing at their backs, wishing them the Sun Lord’s protection and guidance, before Teren tempted us into the village’s inn with an offer of breakfast.</p><p></p><p>The Sleeping Dragon consisted of a large common room, filled with tables, connected to a cluttered kitchen. A flight of stairs led to an upper floor. At that time of the morning, the inn was largely deserted. A well-dressed man lounged against the bar, entertaining two striking serving-women. An eladrin male occupied a table against the far wall, keeping to himself. And behind the bar was Mathwyn Freiland, proprietress of the Sleeping Dragon. </p><p></p><p>Mathwyn was a sturdy but not altogether unattractive women, and she called us to the bar with great delight. We accepted her offer of food, and she flapped frantically at one of the serving-women, “Lassie, fetch our guests some breakfast”. Lassie pouted at the young man with whom she was so obviously absorbed, but soon disappeared into the kitchen. While she was gone, the other tavernmaid introduced herself as Laurel. Mathwyn introduced the young man as Korvald, and nodded towards the eladrin in the corner, “That’s Picard, a local hunter”.</p><p></p><p>Tira’s head turned slowly to study the brooding eladrin, but he made no sign of acknowledging her, or our, presence. With a shrug, my half-elven companion turned back to the group at the bar.</p><p></p><p>“Are you here to help us with our trouble?” Laurel asked.</p><p></p><p>We nodded, and asked her to outline what had happened. Teren hovered nearby, seemingly anxious that the focus had moved from him. </p><p></p><p>“Oh, those devils have been causing us such trouble!” Laurel sighed, and Skamos’ eyes flashed with interest. My tiefling companion had long had a fascination with devils and demons, no doubt flowing from the curse that taints his blood. He moved closer to Laurel. </p><p></p><p>“What do these devils look like?” he asked.</p><p></p><p>“Oh my, I haven’t seen them!” she gushed. “But I’ve spoken to people who have. They have tails, and nippy teeth! Picard knows about them. He’s seen them before out west. And Korvald,” she paused to rub a hand gently across the young man’s chest, ”says he’s seen them before too.”</p><p></p><p>Tira turned and took two steps across the room towards Picard. “Please, won’t you join us?” she asked, her voice dulcet. Picard glanced up briefly and shook his head, then returned to his meal. Tira studied him a moment longer, then spun to rejoin us with a flick of her auburn hair. As the hunter showed no interest in helping us, we gathered around Korvald instead. He patted Laurel on the backside and she jumped away with a giggle then disappeared into the kitchen.</p><p></p><p>We moved with Korvald to a table, and he produced a pack of well-worn playing cards. “So, you want to know about the little creatures?” he asked as he shuffled. I nodded and he began to deal. I recognised the deck as Three Dragon Ante, a game I had seen in taverns and on the docks, but one that I had never personally played. Korvald threw two silver pieces into the centre of the table and paused, looking at each of us while his hands seemed to shuffle the cards of their own accord.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Colmarr, post: 4166850, member: 59182"] A chill wind was blowing in from the east as Oakhurst first came into view. At the time it was a welcome reprieve from miles and miles of deserted, wind-swept countryside. Looking back on that moment, with the benefit of hindsight, I feel as though something more spectacular should have happened as the little town appeared at the bottom of the hill below us. We had been travelling north along the Great North Road for days and Kronos Keep, with its comfortable beds and readily accessible taverns, seemed almost a distant memory. Little did I expect that when I answered Amaunator’s call my first experience of adventure would be chapped lips and chafing blisters in newly-heeled boots. However, He is wise, and I soon had ample demonstration of that. Nearing the outskirts of the little town, we could make out a clamouring mass of people in the town square surrounding a sacred statue of the Sun Lord. My hackles rose to see an aged man climbing onto the statue and I began to stride forward in rebuke, only to falter when I realised he was attempting to clean a red substance from Amaunator’s person. A similarly aged woman, stooped and shrill of voice, stood at the base of the statue, decrying his efforts and condemning him for his devotion when “more pressing” tasks remained to be done. She gesticulated wildly around the square, pointing out broken windows and scattered debris. The old man, whom she referred to as Olvar, ignored her imprecations and continued his work. An amused crowd watched on. I strode to his defence. “Why do you harass this man for serving his Lord?” Seeing my brandished holy symbol, the woman turned and, muttering to herself, scuttled away to the north. Olvar looked down at me and beamed the smile of the besieged. He clambered down from the statue and greeted me warmly, my companions taking in the damage to the small town. Before we could ask what had happened, a member of the crowd stepped forward and introduced himself as Teren Oakhurst, mayor of the village and proprietor of Teren’s Provisions. He welcomed us to Oakhurst, and apologised for its current state. Even as he spoke, I could see his merchant’s eye assessing us, and it was not long before he asked whether we might be able to assist Oakhurst with it’s current troubles. “Of late we have been beset by attacks. The red-eyed devils come in the night and raid the village, breaking windows and taking our livestock, while all we can do is hide behind barred doors. They show little interest in attacking the townfold directly and at first we had hoped that they would grow bored and leave us alone. However, they attacked again last night and this time they painted the town and the statue with chicken’s blood”. I glanced in outrage at Olvar, who nodded sadly, “And to make matters worse, we have not heard from some of the outlying farmers for many days now. I fear they have been the victim of attacks, but we cannot risk sending townsfolk out to check on them”. Teren, perhaps sensing that he had piqued our interest, asked us for assistance. As if on cue, two men rode into the square and announced that they were heading north to check the farms. Teren shook his head sadly. “Young men,” I called to them, “stay a while and discuss the situation with us. Perhaps we can be of assistance.” But they either did not hear or chose to ignore me. They rode north out of town without a backward glance. I cast a blessing at their backs, wishing them the Sun Lord’s protection and guidance, before Teren tempted us into the village’s inn with an offer of breakfast. The Sleeping Dragon consisted of a large common room, filled with tables, connected to a cluttered kitchen. A flight of stairs led to an upper floor. At that time of the morning, the inn was largely deserted. A well-dressed man lounged against the bar, entertaining two striking serving-women. An eladrin male occupied a table against the far wall, keeping to himself. And behind the bar was Mathwyn Freiland, proprietress of the Sleeping Dragon. Mathwyn was a sturdy but not altogether unattractive women, and she called us to the bar with great delight. We accepted her offer of food, and she flapped frantically at one of the serving-women, “Lassie, fetch our guests some breakfast”. Lassie pouted at the young man with whom she was so obviously absorbed, but soon disappeared into the kitchen. While she was gone, the other tavernmaid introduced herself as Laurel. Mathwyn introduced the young man as Korvald, and nodded towards the eladrin in the corner, “That’s Picard, a local hunter”. Tira’s head turned slowly to study the brooding eladrin, but he made no sign of acknowledging her, or our, presence. With a shrug, my half-elven companion turned back to the group at the bar. “Are you here to help us with our trouble?” Laurel asked. We nodded, and asked her to outline what had happened. Teren hovered nearby, seemingly anxious that the focus had moved from him. “Oh, those devils have been causing us such trouble!” Laurel sighed, and Skamos’ eyes flashed with interest. My tiefling companion had long had a fascination with devils and demons, no doubt flowing from the curse that taints his blood. He moved closer to Laurel. “What do these devils look like?” he asked. “Oh my, I haven’t seen them!” she gushed. “But I’ve spoken to people who have. They have tails, and nippy teeth! Picard knows about them. He’s seen them before out west. And Korvald,” she paused to rub a hand gently across the young man’s chest, ”says he’s seen them before too.” Tira turned and took two steps across the room towards Picard. “Please, won’t you join us?” she asked, her voice dulcet. Picard glanced up briefly and shook his head, then returned to his meal. Tira studied him a moment longer, then spun to rejoin us with a flick of her auburn hair. As the hunter showed no interest in helping us, we gathered around Korvald instead. He patted Laurel on the backside and she jumped away with a giggle then disappeared into the kitchen. We moved with Korvald to a table, and he produced a pack of well-worn playing cards. “So, you want to know about the little creatures?” he asked as he shuffled. I nodded and he began to deal. I recognised the deck as Three Dragon Ante, a game I had seen in taverns and on the docks, but one that I had never personally played. Korvald threw two silver pieces into the centre of the table and paused, looking at each of us while his hands seemed to shuffle the cards of their own accord. [/QUOTE]
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