Gran March Adventure

[Trollbabe]

"Lets get these beast moving! These supplies are already late!" cries the caravan's taskmaster. "The sooner we reach fort endurance the better!"

Whips crack and the caravan consisting of five wagons slowly rolls forward. The oxen lean ever so slighly into their yokes. You have hired onto one of Lord Farneld's caravans in the village of Buxton's Crossing. The caravan's destination is Orlane on the far side of the Dim Forest. Recent goblin attacks has trading caravan's hiring on more guards to ensure a safe trip.

You each have your own reasons for joining the caravan. As you look about the caravan you note that each wagon is manned by 4 teamsters, totaling 20. The caravan's taskmaster is a man named Karl Hathlyn, he is also the one responsible for hiring you. He is a little gruff but he seems honest enough. Taskmaster Karl rides a horse at an even pace to the wagons. Each wagon also has 3 guardsmen who walk beside it totaling 15. (You are each considered a guardsmen assume that you walk with each other at this point.)

As you leave Buxton's Crossing the townsfolk wave and call things like "Good journey!" or "Be vigilant!". As you watch the town disappear behind you you become focused on the task at hand. It is a three day journey to the Dim Forest and military road you travel on is smooth and even. The skies are clear and the summer winds blow from the south.

-- the day passes --

As the sun begins to sink on the horizon the caravan arrives at the Shield and Boar Inn. Taskmaster Karl shouts out to the caravan. "Lets get these wagons circled in that field!" He points to an open area beside the inn. "Once that's done we can all have a pint or two!"

The wagons follow the taskmaster's orders and the teamsters unburden the oxen and fetch water from the Inn's well. The taskmaster continues to bark orders from his horse-top perch. "It is the task of the guardsmen to raise the tents and start a fire. You five!" He motions to the five of you. (The player characters) "You five go to the inn and tell the barkeep we need a keg of ale and perhaps a few chickens and stew! He is expecting us!"

 

[industrygothica]

Rowan strides up to the doors of the Shield and Boar Inn; her companion Tiki is at her heals. "Stay here girl, we wouldn't wanna cause a ruckus inside now, would we?" The wolf licks Rowan's face and sits obediently, her tongue lolling aimlessly from the side of her mouth.

She struggles to reach the door, but manages and quietly climbs a stool at the bar.

"Good sir," she begins. "I speak for Lord Farneld, of Buxton's Crossing. We've only just arrived, and are in need of drink. And if you could spare a few of your chickens and perhaps a bit of stew, Lord Farneld'll be most appreciative." Rowan finishes with a smile and waits for the barkeep's response.

 

[Cyincal Lurker]

Narayan clambored into the inn after the little man with the funny dog. The half-orc had a decidedly unpleasent look on his face, even for him, bored out of his (very small) wits by the trip so far.

He didn't say anything, but glared about, hoping someone might actualy start a fight.

 

[s@squ@tch]

"Rowan, ye fergit 'bout the keg o' ale." Laravier says looking at the barkeep.

"Lord Farnell would be most pleased if ye would roll out a barrel fer us, so that we could slake our thirst."

After a day on the job of being a caravan guard, Laravier was somewhat pleased with the ease of the work. A couple more of these trips back and forth, and he could finally afford the wood to make himself a fine bow -- he had his eye on a piece of red oak back at the mill that would be perfect.

 

[Arkhandus]

The caravan's peculiar gnomish guard follows the others inside, hauling himself up onto a stool at the bar with some difficulty. His backpack jangles a bit, filled with assorted junk.

"Yep, he wants some ale for the caravan, if ya don't mind, barkeep" the gnome affirms in a slightly deep voice, unusual for such a small man.

Turning to the half-orc, Thrang says "And cheer up, pal! We're on the road, going to new places, seeing new sights! Surely excitement and riches are just around the proverbial corner!" The funny little man grins up at his dour, tusked, musclebound companion.

 

[Trollbabe]

The Shield and Boar is a simple country inn. With a stone foundation and wood walls. Its hearth is cold tonight as the summer nights rarely give a chill. The common room of the inn is empty except for a gentle looking halfling dressed in a fine green surcoat. His hands are cupped around a copper stein which he stares into quietly.

The barkeep is an overweight man and his hair is thinning from age. He leans on the bar and looks at each of you. "I didn't know Lord Farneld hired such folk..." He snorts thinking he is quite a comedian. "The arrangement was for ale and stew though... what's this talk about chickens?"

 

[Arkhandus]

"Ahhh, they're not so bad," the gnome says after the barkeep's first comment, still grinning.

"I imagine the chickens are for later, or to add meat to the stew! Farneld didn't say, really, so I don't know. Just wanted some chickens if ya had any to spare. Maybe he's planning to run a chicken circus to entertain these sour bums? Or one o' them chicken-fights, whateveryoucallem. Or he needs new feather pillows? Honestly I have no idea." He shrugs and continues grinning.

 

[Cyincal Lurker]

Narayan looks down at the talkative little man. From the look on his face, it's pretty clear he's having a hard time with the word 'proverbial'.

Eventualy, the half-orc seems to give up on the concept with a snort.

"Me come to fight goblins. Me can walk all day in town at get plenty fighting."

 

[industrygothica]

"Excellent," Rowan says as she hops down from the barstool. "Looks like you've all got this under control. I'll meet you outside, then." With a thanks to the barkeep, and a friendly nod to the fellow halfling, Rowan makes her way outside to give Tiki a bit of water and a scratch behind the ears.

 

[Trollbabe]

The barkeep listens to the gnome jibber away and grins. "That is alot of words for such a small man." Turning to the kitchen he hollers. "Mallie get the stew pot out to the caravan." Returning his attention to you, he looks Narayan up and down. "I suppose you can carry a barrell of ale? As for the chickens I'll see what I can spare."

As Rowan leaves she passes the halfling with the fine green surcoat. She can not help but notice a tear run down his face and a great deal of sadness in his expression.