NOW LIVE! Today's the day you meet your new best friend. You don’t have to leave Wolfy behind... In 'Pets & Sidekicks' your companions level up with you!

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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Raven Crowking" data-source="post: 1517958" data-attributes="member: 18280">First SessionThe North Road Inn was a small inn near the North Gate of Long Archer.  The North Gate was little used, save by woodsmen and lumber cutters, as well as the odd Lakashi or adventurer.  As a result, the patrons of the North Road Inn were of the same type.  The area around the North Gate was fairly poor, but few of the lower class locals patronized the North Road Inn itself.Hrum leaned on the counter of the Inn’s tavern, nursing a small beer.  Although he had been involved in several jobs for the Foresters – mostly guarding woodsman while they worked – he was currently unemployed.  His last copper tick had just gone into a leathern jack, and would soon be nothing more than dregs.  As he tipped the last of the beer from the mug, the inn’s door opened and a well-dressed man entered with a manservant.  They were dressed in livery of blue and green.  “Landlord, a private room,” the man calls.  He casts his eye around the inn.  “And if any here be men of deeds, they would do well to come with me.”Hrum shrugged.  It was good timing.  He stood, drained his cup, and followed the man.  At the same time, a man in a dark hooded robe stood up and followed.  A priest of Badur, perhaps, Hrum thought.  He followed the Church of the Seven Good Gods himself.  The Church had taken care of him since he was very young.No sooner were they in the room than the man began to speak.“For those who do not know me, I am Hubert Oarsman of the Guild of Shippers.  I am a hard man to cross, but a good man to have for a friend.  My family has done well in this village.  But we were not always a family of merchants, and my eldest boy is an impetuous lad.  Two weeks ago, he set out with a score of men-at-arms to seek his fortune in the Dragon’s Lair, and he has not returned.  Go there.  Bring back my Brand, living or dead, and I will pay you well.  More, you will have my gratitude, and the gratitude of my kin.  You may find that my friendship is worth more to you than gold.”“I’ll do it,” the black-robed man said.  “Where are these caves?”Hrum admired the man’s confidence.  “I’ll go, too.”“They are caves, about three days north of here, too small to have ever held a worm, leastwise one of any size.  But local lore would have a dragon there an age ago, its treasure still lost in the darkness.  Make no mistake, there will be dangers.  But a dragon will not be among their number.   May I have your names?”“I am called Locke,” the black-robed man said.“And I am Hrum.  Though orcish blood flows through my veins, I wish you to know that I am a man of honor.”“Save my son, and that will prove your honor well enough.  The moon will be full in six nights, and my heart fears that if Brand is not found before that moon rises, then all hope is in vain.”The black-robed man, Locke, turned to Hrum.  “Shall we leave tomorrow, then?”“Tomorrow,” Hrum agreed.  As they turned to go, Hrum realized that he had just spent his last coin.  He turned back toward Master Oarsman.  “Um…I know we haven’t done anything yet, but I was wondering…it’s just that I don’t have any money, and I need a place to stay…”Master Oarsman turned an appraising eye toward Hrum, and his features turned cold.  “Now I understand what it is that you were seeking, Master Orc.  Hermann, give him something for his trouble.”  As the guildsman swept from the room, his manservant opened his purse and tossed Hrum a silver penny.  It would not be enough for both a room and a meal.“The clerics of Mellador keep places for such as you,” the manservant said.The orcs were probably the worst of the wild humanoids dwelling near to Long Archer.  Hrum was used to the sour looks his orcish parentage brought.  It did not mean that he liked it.  Hrum had guarded woodcutters against orcs in service of the Guild of Mercenaries, and none could say he refused to lay sword to any goblinoid when an honest man’s life was in danger.  Hrum fumed silently, but he took the silver penny and left.Luckily, he was well enough known at the North Road Inn.  After Hrum bought the inn’s thick venison stew – served with huge slabs of brown peasant’s bread – he was able to barter work for a place to sleep by the common room fire.“I couldn’t help but overhear.”  The black-robed man, Locke, had approached the bar where Hrum was speaking to the innkeeper.  “When I go adventuring, I prefer my companions to be well rested.  I will pay for his room.”In the morning, the pair left the North Gate along the trail into Weirwood the Great.  The forest was cut back a good two bowlengths from the village wall, but once it started, it started thick.  Overhanging boughs cut the light down to a green shadow, and areas of thick undergrowth reduced visibility.  The northward trail was used by woodcutters, Hrum knew, so there were liable to be clear-cut areas and glens at least as far as the caverns they sought.The first day passed rather uneventfully.  It was pleasant enough land, rising and falling, alive with shallow streams and narrow rills.  All they saw were birds and small animals – chipmunks and squirrels, the occasional rabbit.  It was not until evening that Hrum realized that he hadn’t brought food.  With the day work he’d done for the Guild of Mercenaries, food was provided when the woodcutters camped outside the village wall.  Of course, the Guild of Mercenaries also took more than half of Hrum’s pay, as he was not a guild member, so the provided food was not as much of a bonus as it might seem.  However, Hrum had not even considered packing food before now, and he thought back to the odd rabbit they had seen with hunger.Luckily, Locke had brought enough food to get them to the cavern at least.  “We are going to have to try hunting, though,” he said.  “Or we won’t have food for the trip back.”“It’ll be good to have something other than dry trail rations anyway.”They ate silently for a while, listening to the crackling of their fire.  Suddenly, they realized that there was a figure standing just at the edge of their firelight.  It seemed tall and craggy in the shadows.  An owl perched on the figure’s shoulder turned its full-moon eyes on them.  The teeth of a badger near the figure’s feet gleamed.They were unsure at first whether the figure they saw was a forest spirit or a man.  “Who are you?” Locke asked.“I am Desu Atram, of the Catfish Tribe,” the figure answered.  As he stepped forward, they could see that he was human, though entwined with the natural world.  A druid.  He was also a Lakashi, one of the tribesmen who dwelled in the Lakelands.  Some called them savages, and relations between city dwellers and Lakashi were not always peaceful.  Still, the man seemed more curious than dangerous, and he had observed them quietly from the shadows without bringing them harm.  “May I share your fire?”Locke spread his hands to include them in the largesse of their camp.  A memory floated up from somewhere.  Sharing a fire and protection was common courtesy among travelers.  Of course, it was not always well rewarded.  Still, some spirits and fey could be bound from harm simply by offering them hospitality, and one never knew.  “Would you like something to eat?”“Yes.”Shortly afterward, they were discussing Hubert Oarsman’s missing son, and the reason Hrum and Locke had entered the Weirwood.  They were uncertain what dangers they might face.  Since Desu seemed willing to aid them in their task, Hrum and Locke were equally willing to share what reward there was with him.All seemed to be going well until the trio encountered a boar the following day.   Boars were certainly not rare in the Weirwood, where they used their tusks to dig up grubs, acorns, and fungi.  Boars were as large as most hounds.  Their nasty tempers were legendary, and many a hunter had ended up treed by his quarry.  Even wounded or dying, a boar can make a fatal attack.  Caution when dealing with these animals is so deeply ingrained that even experienced hunters will use boar spears when hunting them – iron spears with a crossbar far up the shaft to prevent an impaled boar from simply driving the shaft through its body in order to charge the hunter.Hrum, though, had never seen a boar spear.  Perhaps he didn’t realize the danger the creature represented, or that it might not attack if they remained calm.  He was leading when they spotted the boar, some ways ahead of them on the trail.  It was clear that the boar had seen them as well, but it stood tensely, watching them with suspicion.  With thoughts of succulent flesh foremost in his Hrum drew his sword to charge.Instantly, the boar was upon them, tusks flashing.  Desu’s badger companion, and early victim of the boar, was thrown into the air and trampled under its hooves.  Although they fought valiantly, and gave the animal its death-wound, the boar’s fury was unabated until all lay bleeding on the forest floor.  And there they would have died, had it not been for the kind heart of another.Against hope, they awoke at twilight to the smell of roasting boar.  Locke, who had awoken first, reported seeing a woman in shining silver mail.  She had obviously bound their wounds and granted them divine healing.  She was elven-fair, but taller than mortal men, with the face and lithe grace of the fair people.  After rendering aid, she had mounted a great elk and ridden off down the forest path.  They had not been given a proper chance to thank her.“I shall commune with nature,” Desu said, “and see what I can do to heal us further.  We can do no more this night.”</blockquote>

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