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Story Hour
Sniktch's Story Hour Prelude - From the Beginning (UPDATED 04/22)
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<blockquote data-quote="Sniktch" data-source="post: 415449" data-attributes="member: 7704"><p><strong>Prelude (cont.)</strong></p><p></p><p>Welby was worried about his companion. The “Royston Crow,” as he referred to himself now, had remembered nothing new on their trek north. Worse yet, the young man’s wounds had begun to fester and he had lapsed into delirium the past two days. If Welby did not find help for him soon, he would certainly perish. Then it would have been all for naught. Still, he could not have left him in that field, where he had found this one living being surrounded by the dead. </p><p></p><p>They had crossed over from the plains into a forest after a day, and Welby loved walking through the wood as it lay in the icy grip of winter. The bare skeletons of the trees standing stark and naked against the background of gray and white had a harsh beauty, and triggered pleasant memories of growing up in the Tangles. If he had had no other worries, Welby would have loved nothing more than to explore these woods and relish the crisp, clean air and slumbering country, but as it was he wished for the woods to end soon. He did not expect to find aid for the Crow out here in the wilds. </p><p></p><p>The trees thinned as night approached, and Welby thought he saw distant lights twinkling in the twilight. Excited, Welby picked up the pace, eliciting a groan and a curse from his barely coherent companion. Cresting a hill, Welby found himself staring down into a valley cleared of trees, a broad, snowy plain. Nestled in the heart of the valley lay a village, no more than two dozen buildings. Welby urged Crow to walk faster again, his hope growing as they approached the small hamlet.</p><p>______________________________________________</p><p></p><p>Stumpwater Jack and Eli Mournsong looked up as the door slammed open, admitting the howling wind. Few were in the inn on this night, just the innkeeper and the few regulars who had braved the cold, in addition to Jack, Eli, and a cloaked figure who stayed in the shadows of the room. Two figures, one short and one tall, both heavily bundled, staggered in. The tall one immediately slumped to the floor as the other, child-sized figure forced the door shut.</p><p></p><p>“We need priest!” The small figure pulled his hood from his face, revealing the most feral halfling anyone present had ever seen. He pointed to the figure slumped next to him. “Man hurt bad. Where find priest?”</p><p></p><p>Jack rose and approached the halfling. “I am Stumpwater Jack, a priest of Clangeddin Silverbeard, Dwarf Lord of Battle. My healing abilities’re limited, but I may be able to help yer friend. What ails him?”</p><p></p><p>“Fever. Found him wounded in snow. Clean wound, but not heal. Wound turn bad, fever set in.” The halfling knelt by the stricken man and began removing the heavy layers of clothing he wore. He continued, “Me Welby. Him say he Royston Crow.”</p><p></p><p>Jack knelt to examine the stricken half-elf. He had a nasty cut on his forehead that was obviously festering. Jack knitted his brow; he could stabilize the man, but he would still need a day or two to recover. He muttered a prayer of healing and saw some of the swelling go down, some of the color return to the Crow’s cheeks. He looked up at Welby and spread his hands. “ I’ve done all I can fer now. He should get recover, but it will take a day or two.”</p><p></p><p>Welby thanked him and procured a room at the inn, using a couple of coins he took from the Crow’s beltpouch, then Jack and Eli helped him carry the unconscious half-elf upstairs and lay him in bed. An ominous growl rumbled through the small room. Jack and Eli looked alarmed, but Welby merely held his stomach and blushed. Chuckling, the tall elf led the way back down to their table. Welby purchased a large bowl of rabbit stew and then joined them at the table. Obviously not recognizing the purpose of his spoon, the halfling fell to devouring the stew with his small, pudgy fingers.</p><p></p><p>Eli tried to hide his distaste for the young halfling uncivilized eating habits. “So, ahh, I don’t believe I have ever met a halfling of such a, ahh, interesting appearance before, Welby. From whence do you hail and what finds you in Travensburg in the dead of winter?”</p><p></p><p>Welby stared at him blankly until Jack cut in, “He means where’re ya from and what’re ya doin here.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh. Lizards come to home so me leave. Me find Crow and he need help, so we come to town.” He raised a thick, bushy eyebrow at Eli, “Why you here?”</p><p></p><p>Jack answered, “We came fer the ruins. Jus two miles outside o town is the ancient dwarf hold o Duernfast. My friend Eli and I reckon to search the ruins, see what we find. Care to join us? We could use another axe if anythin is still livin down there.”</p><p></p><p>“Hmm, ok. Sounds fun, me go.”</p><p>__________________________________________</p><p></p><p>Ichen Gar sat in his corner, sipping a mug of ale and listening to the three new companions’ conversation. He was intrigued – anything would be better than sitting in this bar all winter, waiting for the Crusaders to catch up to him. Besides, it looked like they could use someone of his talents. He rose and approached the table.</p><p></p><p>“Mind if I join you?” His harsh growling voice cut through the discussion they were having.</p><p></p><p>Jack looked up to see a huge figure standing over them, dressed in black leather. He was possibly the ugliest human anyone at the table had ever seen, with a piggish, upturned snout and long fangs protruding over his bottom lip. He reached for his axe, forgetting that he had left it upstairs. “Orc-blood!” he spat.</p><p></p><p>Eli grabbed his arm and restrained him, “Yes, Jack, obviously so. And if I were so quick to judge a man by his appearance, I would have never traveled south with you and you would have died in the wilds. At least hear what the man has to say.” He turned to the newcomer, “Excuse my friend, he has never been the most tolerant soul. Please join us; I would be glad to hear what you have to say.”</p><p></p><p>Ike stared at the dwarf a moment before taking a seat. “I couldn’t help but overhear you speaking about the ruins outside of town. I find myself at a bit of a loose end right now, and I’m sure I could help a lot with my skills.”</p><p></p><p>“Bah, and what’d those be?” Jack rumbled.</p><p></p><p>Ichen opened his cloak and took a leather case from his belt. Laying it open on the table, he revealed rows of small wires, picks, tumblers, and other strange tools. He grinned an uneven, toothy smile over the table as he explained, “I’m a master locksmith. I can find and disable any trap and open any lock you find in those ruins, or my name ain’t Filthy Ike.”</p><p></p><p>Jack snorted, “Ya mean yer a thief. An orc-blood and a thief, why aren’t I surprised?”</p><p></p><p>Eli glanced sharply at Jack before turning back to Ike. “Pay him no mind, his bark is far worse than his bite.” Jack snorted again at this, but Eli cut him off, “You are correct, I believe we could use an expert on this foray. Besides, as Jack just said, an extra swordarm is always good to have. It will be good to have your company, Ike. I am Eli Mournsong, and my companions Stumpwater Jack and Welby. Rest for now; we will not be departing until the storm breaks.”</p><p>__________________________________________</p><p></p><p>The Crow was well enough to join them for breakfast the next day. As they sat around the table, swapping stories and becoming better acquainted with each other, the door opened and an, imperious, well-dressed figure entered. Removing his fine furs, the man came to stand before their table. He was tall and approaching middle age, with gray beginning to enter into his beard and the hair at his temples. He stood over the companions and caught them with a piercing, blue-eyed stare.</p><p></p><p>“Greetings and welcome! I am Lord Alexei Travens, ruler of this village. My men have told me that a band of young adventurers was staying in town, and I have a problem I believe you can help me with. As you know, the winter has been especially harsh. Unfortunately, this came after a poor harvest, and the village larders are nearly empty. We were expecting a shipment of food from Ravensburg to arrive two days ago; in fact, I dispatched several of the young men of the village to meet the supply wagon yesterday. They did not return, and we have received no word of them or the wagon. It is possible they have merely been delayed by the storm, but this is a matter of life and death for many of our people. I ask you, please, travel down the eastern road that runs past the ruins and see if you can discover the cause of the delay. We are not a rich people, but I will reward you if you can bring the foodstuffs safely back to town.”</p><p></p><p>It took less than a minute for them to consider the proposal before they accepted. Bundling themselves in their winter gear, the five bold travelers exited the inn and began to trudge across the snowfall covering the eastern road.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Sniktch, post: 415449, member: 7704"] [b]Prelude (cont.)[/b] Welby was worried about his companion. The “Royston Crow,” as he referred to himself now, had remembered nothing new on their trek north. Worse yet, the young man’s wounds had begun to fester and he had lapsed into delirium the past two days. If Welby did not find help for him soon, he would certainly perish. Then it would have been all for naught. Still, he could not have left him in that field, where he had found this one living being surrounded by the dead. They had crossed over from the plains into a forest after a day, and Welby loved walking through the wood as it lay in the icy grip of winter. The bare skeletons of the trees standing stark and naked against the background of gray and white had a harsh beauty, and triggered pleasant memories of growing up in the Tangles. If he had had no other worries, Welby would have loved nothing more than to explore these woods and relish the crisp, clean air and slumbering country, but as it was he wished for the woods to end soon. He did not expect to find aid for the Crow out here in the wilds. The trees thinned as night approached, and Welby thought he saw distant lights twinkling in the twilight. Excited, Welby picked up the pace, eliciting a groan and a curse from his barely coherent companion. Cresting a hill, Welby found himself staring down into a valley cleared of trees, a broad, snowy plain. Nestled in the heart of the valley lay a village, no more than two dozen buildings. Welby urged Crow to walk faster again, his hope growing as they approached the small hamlet. ______________________________________________ Stumpwater Jack and Eli Mournsong looked up as the door slammed open, admitting the howling wind. Few were in the inn on this night, just the innkeeper and the few regulars who had braved the cold, in addition to Jack, Eli, and a cloaked figure who stayed in the shadows of the room. Two figures, one short and one tall, both heavily bundled, staggered in. The tall one immediately slumped to the floor as the other, child-sized figure forced the door shut. “We need priest!” The small figure pulled his hood from his face, revealing the most feral halfling anyone present had ever seen. He pointed to the figure slumped next to him. “Man hurt bad. Where find priest?” Jack rose and approached the halfling. “I am Stumpwater Jack, a priest of Clangeddin Silverbeard, Dwarf Lord of Battle. My healing abilities’re limited, but I may be able to help yer friend. What ails him?” “Fever. Found him wounded in snow. Clean wound, but not heal. Wound turn bad, fever set in.” The halfling knelt by the stricken man and began removing the heavy layers of clothing he wore. He continued, “Me Welby. Him say he Royston Crow.” Jack knelt to examine the stricken half-elf. He had a nasty cut on his forehead that was obviously festering. Jack knitted his brow; he could stabilize the man, but he would still need a day or two to recover. He muttered a prayer of healing and saw some of the swelling go down, some of the color return to the Crow’s cheeks. He looked up at Welby and spread his hands. “ I’ve done all I can fer now. He should get recover, but it will take a day or two.” Welby thanked him and procured a room at the inn, using a couple of coins he took from the Crow’s beltpouch, then Jack and Eli helped him carry the unconscious half-elf upstairs and lay him in bed. An ominous growl rumbled through the small room. Jack and Eli looked alarmed, but Welby merely held his stomach and blushed. Chuckling, the tall elf led the way back down to their table. Welby purchased a large bowl of rabbit stew and then joined them at the table. Obviously not recognizing the purpose of his spoon, the halfling fell to devouring the stew with his small, pudgy fingers. Eli tried to hide his distaste for the young halfling uncivilized eating habits. “So, ahh, I don’t believe I have ever met a halfling of such a, ahh, interesting appearance before, Welby. From whence do you hail and what finds you in Travensburg in the dead of winter?” Welby stared at him blankly until Jack cut in, “He means where’re ya from and what’re ya doin here.” “Oh. Lizards come to home so me leave. Me find Crow and he need help, so we come to town.” He raised a thick, bushy eyebrow at Eli, “Why you here?” Jack answered, “We came fer the ruins. Jus two miles outside o town is the ancient dwarf hold o Duernfast. My friend Eli and I reckon to search the ruins, see what we find. Care to join us? We could use another axe if anythin is still livin down there.” “Hmm, ok. Sounds fun, me go.” __________________________________________ Ichen Gar sat in his corner, sipping a mug of ale and listening to the three new companions’ conversation. He was intrigued – anything would be better than sitting in this bar all winter, waiting for the Crusaders to catch up to him. Besides, it looked like they could use someone of his talents. He rose and approached the table. “Mind if I join you?” His harsh growling voice cut through the discussion they were having. Jack looked up to see a huge figure standing over them, dressed in black leather. He was possibly the ugliest human anyone at the table had ever seen, with a piggish, upturned snout and long fangs protruding over his bottom lip. He reached for his axe, forgetting that he had left it upstairs. “Orc-blood!” he spat. Eli grabbed his arm and restrained him, “Yes, Jack, obviously so. And if I were so quick to judge a man by his appearance, I would have never traveled south with you and you would have died in the wilds. At least hear what the man has to say.” He turned to the newcomer, “Excuse my friend, he has never been the most tolerant soul. Please join us; I would be glad to hear what you have to say.” Ike stared at the dwarf a moment before taking a seat. “I couldn’t help but overhear you speaking about the ruins outside of town. I find myself at a bit of a loose end right now, and I’m sure I could help a lot with my skills.” “Bah, and what’d those be?” Jack rumbled. Ichen opened his cloak and took a leather case from his belt. Laying it open on the table, he revealed rows of small wires, picks, tumblers, and other strange tools. He grinned an uneven, toothy smile over the table as he explained, “I’m a master locksmith. I can find and disable any trap and open any lock you find in those ruins, or my name ain’t Filthy Ike.” Jack snorted, “Ya mean yer a thief. An orc-blood and a thief, why aren’t I surprised?” Eli glanced sharply at Jack before turning back to Ike. “Pay him no mind, his bark is far worse than his bite.” Jack snorted again at this, but Eli cut him off, “You are correct, I believe we could use an expert on this foray. Besides, as Jack just said, an extra swordarm is always good to have. It will be good to have your company, Ike. I am Eli Mournsong, and my companions Stumpwater Jack and Welby. Rest for now; we will not be departing until the storm breaks.” __________________________________________ The Crow was well enough to join them for breakfast the next day. As they sat around the table, swapping stories and becoming better acquainted with each other, the door opened and an, imperious, well-dressed figure entered. Removing his fine furs, the man came to stand before their table. He was tall and approaching middle age, with gray beginning to enter into his beard and the hair at his temples. He stood over the companions and caught them with a piercing, blue-eyed stare. “Greetings and welcome! I am Lord Alexei Travens, ruler of this village. My men have told me that a band of young adventurers was staying in town, and I have a problem I believe you can help me with. As you know, the winter has been especially harsh. Unfortunately, this came after a poor harvest, and the village larders are nearly empty. We were expecting a shipment of food from Ravensburg to arrive two days ago; in fact, I dispatched several of the young men of the village to meet the supply wagon yesterday. They did not return, and we have received no word of them or the wagon. It is possible they have merely been delayed by the storm, but this is a matter of life and death for many of our people. I ask you, please, travel down the eastern road that runs past the ruins and see if you can discover the cause of the delay. We are not a rich people, but I will reward you if you can bring the foodstuffs safely back to town.” It took less than a minute for them to consider the proposal before they accepted. Bundling themselves in their winter gear, the five bold travelers exited the inn and began to trudge across the snowfall covering the eastern road. [/QUOTE]
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Sniktch's Story Hour Prelude - From the Beginning (UPDATED 04/22)
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