Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Raiders of Oakhurst - A memoir of Erais Gunterson
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="Colmarr" data-source="post: 4217475" data-attributes="member: 59182"><p>There we finally confronted the raiders, and learned just how horrible a threat the little town faced.</p><p></p><p>The Ubler farmstead was a small livestock property an hour south of Oakhurst. It was only a mile west of the Old North Road, and as the farmhouse came into view I was shocked to remember that we had seen it from the road that morning. I had thought it seemed a pleasant place away from the cares of Kronos Keep. It had struck me as the sort of life I might have found myself living but for luck or fate. Or that I might retire to once my days of adventuring ended. It certainly didn’t occur to me at the time that within hours my feelings would change so drastically.</p><p></p><p>We initially approached the farm from the north, but as we reached the rickety fence around the homestead itself, we pulled up short. I’m not sure who noticed it first, but we were soon all aware of it. Something was wrong. It was Skamos who announced what we were all feeling. “It’s too quiet”. He was right. Occasionally a bird would twitter or call in a nearby tree, but there were none of the other expected sounds of farm life. There were no whinnies from the barn on the western side of the homestead and no livestock visible in the sheep pen. The house itself was shuttered and still, and there was no sound of movement within. </p><p></p><p>We made our way as quietly as possible around the house and approached the farmstead from the other side. A small vegetable patch had been haphazardly uprooted, some of the produce left to wither in the sun. A small stone well stood nearby. The well’s winch had been played out so that the rope hung freely down into the shaft, and the grey stone was streaked and smeared with a stain the colour of rust. A shiver ran up my spine, and I was certain that the Raiders of Oakhurst had been to Ubler’s farm. </p><p></p><p>They launched their ambush when we tried to enter the farmhouse. A small dog-man, 4 feet tall and wielding a spear half again its height, pounced from around the corner of the barn and launched its weapon at Tira. Fortunately the weapon went wide, and the dog-man yipped in aggravation. Others appeared, and more spears flew out toward us. And then one burst from the thatching on the farmhouse’s roof, its shortbow already nocked and drawn. Whatever luck or divine providence had protected Tira was not with Skamos, and the dog-man’s arrow buried itself in the tiefling’s shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain. </p><p></p><p>I’m proud to say that I did not freeze against the dog-men as I had in the tomb. And nor did the others. Despite the element of surprise, we made short work of the raiders at the farm. There were four of them in all, three spear-wielders and the archer on the roof. Corrin burst into the farmhouse and ran through a dog-man cowering inside. Skamos and Tira between them unleashed a mystical barrage against the dog-man archer the likes of which I had never before seen and its lifeless body tumbled from the roof to lie crumpled at our feet. The other two turned to run, but magic is faster than dog-men, and Skamos left them broken in the dirt. </p><p></p><p>My fears about Ubler’s well proved to be justified. After treating Skamos’ wounded shoulder, we searched the farmstead. The horses in the barn were long-dead, their sides torn open and buzzing with flies and maggots. There were sheep in the small pen, but they too had been butchered. And in the well we found the remains of the Ubler family, rammed into the shaft so roughly that Ubler’s corpse had formed a sort of blockage on which the other bodies rested, barely five feet below the winch. Their deaths had obviously been violent, and it was hard to maintain my composure as we retrieved the bodies and buried them behind the house. We placed Ubler and his wife side-by-side. Their teenage son was buried next to them. But when it came to the toddler, a little girl, we paused. It seemed so unfathomable that she had been killed, so pointless. But it had happened, and we were left to clean up. Eventually, I uttered a short prayer to Amaunator and we buried the little girl with her mother. At least she would not be alone in death.</p><p> </p><p>After we laid the Ublers to rest, we rounded up the dog-men and burned the corpses. However, before doing so we searched their possessions. The weapons and armour were of inferior quality, and they joined their owners on the pyre. In the pouch of the dog-men’s leader we found a stone arrowhead, and a wide-bladed dagger of the same material was found under the rag belt of another dog-man.</p><p></p><p>Skamos turned the stone objects over in his hand and scratched absently at his ear while the rest of us stood nearby covering our noses with scraps of cloth taken from the farmhouse. Neither the stench of burning flesh nor the heat of the leaping flames seemed to bother him at all. When he looked up, he jumped to see the blazing pyre nearby. Then he slipped the arrowhead and dagger into his belt pouch. “It’s either some new type of flint, or an off-colour obsidian”, he said.</p><p></p><p>“Is that helpful to us?” Tira asked from behind her smoke-cloth.</p><p></p><p>Skamos shrugged. “I have no idea”.</p><p></p><p>When the fire had burned itself out, we returned to Oakhurst. My companions headed to the Sleeping Dragon, whilst I sought out Olvar in the shrine. I found the old priest sitting in the vestment room, thumbing through an old copy of Amanautor’s rites. He looked up when I entered, and a brief smile lit his weathered face. It did not last long. He was horrified when I told him what we had discovered at the Ubler farm. Then I showed him the locket we had recovered from the tomb, and I thought that I had killed him.</p><p></p><p>His body went rigid, and his breathing stopped for what seemed an impossibly long time, the finally he reached out and gingerly took the locket from me. The tension faded from his body and he sagged slightly in his chair. He cradled the locket in his gnarled hands for almost a minute and then looked up at me sadly.</p><p></p><p>“This was my brother’s. He went adventuring. This was his picture of Sybil. We were all young then, and I encouraged him to go. I wanted Sybil for myself.” </p><p></p><p>“Olvar, I’m sorry. If this locket belonged to your brother then I’m afraid he’s passed away. We found his body in the old tomb to the east. We did not know it’s significance at the time, and we left it there.”</p><p></p><p>I’m not sure what reaction I expected to that, but I certainly didn’t expect him to nod.</p><p></p><p>“I knew he would die, and I still encouraged him to go. I thought with him gone, Sybil would be mine. No wonder she hates me.”</p><p></p><p>I stood there silently. What could I say to such a frank admission? Olvar had clearly been carrying his guilt for a lifetime and nothing I could say could affect his pain. When he looked up again, there was fire in his eyes and something else that I initially did not recognize. He abruptly stood up.</p><p></p><p>“I need to take this to Sybil. Maybe then I can make peace with her. Maybe. Maybe!” </p><p></p><p>He seemed rejuvenated, and as he hastily gathered up his cloak and traveling boots I finally recognized the look that I had seen in his eyes. It was hope. He wished me a rushed farewell and bustled out of the shrine. As I closed the front door behind me, I silently wished him luck and whispered a prayer of thanks to Amaunator. I had been away from the safety of Kronos Keep for less than a week, and already I had made a difference in someone’s life. It was a remarkably rewarding feeling to know that the product of my toil had meant so much to him.</p><p></p><p>When I reached the main room of the Sleeping Dragon, my companions were seated at the table in the corner with Picard. The eladrin was leaning back in his chair, both hands self-indulgently stroking his bulging belly. A small stack of empty plates decorated the table in front of him.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Colmarr, post: 4217475, member: 59182"] There we finally confronted the raiders, and learned just how horrible a threat the little town faced. The Ubler farmstead was a small livestock property an hour south of Oakhurst. It was only a mile west of the Old North Road, and as the farmhouse came into view I was shocked to remember that we had seen it from the road that morning. I had thought it seemed a pleasant place away from the cares of Kronos Keep. It had struck me as the sort of life I might have found myself living but for luck or fate. Or that I might retire to once my days of adventuring ended. It certainly didn’t occur to me at the time that within hours my feelings would change so drastically. We initially approached the farm from the north, but as we reached the rickety fence around the homestead itself, we pulled up short. I’m not sure who noticed it first, but we were soon all aware of it. Something was wrong. It was Skamos who announced what we were all feeling. “It’s too quiet”. He was right. Occasionally a bird would twitter or call in a nearby tree, but there were none of the other expected sounds of farm life. There were no whinnies from the barn on the western side of the homestead and no livestock visible in the sheep pen. The house itself was shuttered and still, and there was no sound of movement within. We made our way as quietly as possible around the house and approached the farmstead from the other side. A small vegetable patch had been haphazardly uprooted, some of the produce left to wither in the sun. A small stone well stood nearby. The well’s winch had been played out so that the rope hung freely down into the shaft, and the grey stone was streaked and smeared with a stain the colour of rust. A shiver ran up my spine, and I was certain that the Raiders of Oakhurst had been to Ubler’s farm. They launched their ambush when we tried to enter the farmhouse. A small dog-man, 4 feet tall and wielding a spear half again its height, pounced from around the corner of the barn and launched its weapon at Tira. Fortunately the weapon went wide, and the dog-man yipped in aggravation. Others appeared, and more spears flew out toward us. And then one burst from the thatching on the farmhouse’s roof, its shortbow already nocked and drawn. Whatever luck or divine providence had protected Tira was not with Skamos, and the dog-man’s arrow buried itself in the tiefling’s shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain. I’m proud to say that I did not freeze against the dog-men as I had in the tomb. And nor did the others. Despite the element of surprise, we made short work of the raiders at the farm. There were four of them in all, three spear-wielders and the archer on the roof. Corrin burst into the farmhouse and ran through a dog-man cowering inside. Skamos and Tira between them unleashed a mystical barrage against the dog-man archer the likes of which I had never before seen and its lifeless body tumbled from the roof to lie crumpled at our feet. The other two turned to run, but magic is faster than dog-men, and Skamos left them broken in the dirt. My fears about Ubler’s well proved to be justified. After treating Skamos’ wounded shoulder, we searched the farmstead. The horses in the barn were long-dead, their sides torn open and buzzing with flies and maggots. There were sheep in the small pen, but they too had been butchered. And in the well we found the remains of the Ubler family, rammed into the shaft so roughly that Ubler’s corpse had formed a sort of blockage on which the other bodies rested, barely five feet below the winch. Their deaths had obviously been violent, and it was hard to maintain my composure as we retrieved the bodies and buried them behind the house. We placed Ubler and his wife side-by-side. Their teenage son was buried next to them. But when it came to the toddler, a little girl, we paused. It seemed so unfathomable that she had been killed, so pointless. But it had happened, and we were left to clean up. Eventually, I uttered a short prayer to Amaunator and we buried the little girl with her mother. At least she would not be alone in death. After we laid the Ublers to rest, we rounded up the dog-men and burned the corpses. However, before doing so we searched their possessions. The weapons and armour were of inferior quality, and they joined their owners on the pyre. In the pouch of the dog-men’s leader we found a stone arrowhead, and a wide-bladed dagger of the same material was found under the rag belt of another dog-man. Skamos turned the stone objects over in his hand and scratched absently at his ear while the rest of us stood nearby covering our noses with scraps of cloth taken from the farmhouse. Neither the stench of burning flesh nor the heat of the leaping flames seemed to bother him at all. When he looked up, he jumped to see the blazing pyre nearby. Then he slipped the arrowhead and dagger into his belt pouch. “It’s either some new type of flint, or an off-colour obsidian”, he said. “Is that helpful to us?” Tira asked from behind her smoke-cloth. Skamos shrugged. “I have no idea”. When the fire had burned itself out, we returned to Oakhurst. My companions headed to the Sleeping Dragon, whilst I sought out Olvar in the shrine. I found the old priest sitting in the vestment room, thumbing through an old copy of Amanautor’s rites. He looked up when I entered, and a brief smile lit his weathered face. It did not last long. He was horrified when I told him what we had discovered at the Ubler farm. Then I showed him the locket we had recovered from the tomb, and I thought that I had killed him. His body went rigid, and his breathing stopped for what seemed an impossibly long time, the finally he reached out and gingerly took the locket from me. The tension faded from his body and he sagged slightly in his chair. He cradled the locket in his gnarled hands for almost a minute and then looked up at me sadly. “This was my brother’s. He went adventuring. This was his picture of Sybil. We were all young then, and I encouraged him to go. I wanted Sybil for myself.” “Olvar, I’m sorry. If this locket belonged to your brother then I’m afraid he’s passed away. We found his body in the old tomb to the east. We did not know it’s significance at the time, and we left it there.” I’m not sure what reaction I expected to that, but I certainly didn’t expect him to nod. “I knew he would die, and I still encouraged him to go. I thought with him gone, Sybil would be mine. No wonder she hates me.” I stood there silently. What could I say to such a frank admission? Olvar had clearly been carrying his guilt for a lifetime and nothing I could say could affect his pain. When he looked up again, there was fire in his eyes and something else that I initially did not recognize. He abruptly stood up. “I need to take this to Sybil. Maybe then I can make peace with her. Maybe. Maybe!” He seemed rejuvenated, and as he hastily gathered up his cloak and traveling boots I finally recognized the look that I had seen in his eyes. It was hope. He wished me a rushed farewell and bustled out of the shrine. As I closed the front door behind me, I silently wished him luck and whispered a prayer of thanks to Amaunator. I had been away from the safety of Kronos Keep for less than a week, and already I had made a difference in someone’s life. It was a remarkably rewarding feeling to know that the product of my toil had meant so much to him. When I reached the main room of the Sleeping Dragon, my companions were seated at the table in the corner with Picard. The eladrin was leaning back in his chair, both hands self-indulgently stroking his bulging belly. A small stack of empty plates decorated the table in front of him. [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Raiders of Oakhurst - A memoir of Erais Gunterson
Top