Of Sound Mind the Halfling Way

[the Jester]

Back to the Gathering

The first day of the journey back to the clans, bell in tow, is a triumphant, happy affair. Even Mama Flapjacks shows joy and pride in the group of youngsters. She scratches Federico affectionatelyh behind the ears and gives him the bones to gnaw after she cooks up dinner each day. And mmm-mmm, is she a good cook! That's why she's Mama, or at least one of the reasons. The group is happy, fairly well-rested after their ordeal at the climax of their great adventure, mostly healed (save for a few odd aches and bruises) and well-fed. Not to mention that reward! Why, even Mama's never held such wealth in her hands!

From the afternoon into the night they travel, the garen puffing along with the wagon and the bell. They take many breaks to snack or cook a meal, but they still make decent time, and when they bed down Thelonious remarks that they should only have another day or day and a half til they reach the gathering. "A quick journey," he remarks, "especially if the weather favors us."

The night is chilly but not quite cold, and at least it's dry. With watches set against danger- the memory of the centipedes they fought by the river on the way to Bellhold makes them wary- they settle in to their bedrolls, hoping for an undisturbed journey.

Alas, on Strogass, such gifts are rare.

When it's his watch, Sandy walks around frequently to keep himself awake and alert. As he's settling back in, back to a wagon wheel, after one of his walks, a bit of stealthy movement catches his eye. What was that? he thinks. Slowly the halfling pulls himself back up. A glance around shows no sign of anything. Tense, Sandy pulls out his dagger and prepares himself for action. Unfortunately, he isn't ready for what happens next- suddenly one of the wolves in covered in sticky webbing! Sandy cries out incoherently, then shouts, "Awake! Danger!"

The party starts to struggle awake, but the spider has scampered in. It's big- bigger than a halfling! Fat and bloated, the thing's body has to be 3' around, and its legs give it an overall diameter of about 6'. It's covered in nasty black fur. The great arachnid hisses as it rushes forward. Gaping at its size, Sandy hears Trinia scream as the furry black spider bites the wolf and the animal whines in pain as it becomes suddenly awake. There's a hue and cry of activity as Trinia, Ed and Sandy spring in to attack the monster, striking with their blades. The wolf manages to tear a chunk from the hideous spider's forebody, barking and growling, even as Trinia and Sandy move to flank it. The two clansmates slash and poke at it, cutting it badly. Fighting for its life, the fat spider leans into Airhead Ed and its mandibles take a terrible bite from her stomach, tearing her armor severely!* She cries out as poison courses through her veins, stumbles to one knee and stabs weakly back at the spider but misses. She can hear her heart pounding in her ear; her stomach feels like it's on fire. Venom, she thinks sickly.

Then Trinia's scimitar slashes down, striking the spider soundly in the head. Black ichor spews out and the monster gives a great spasm and falls to the ground, its legs curling under it in death.

Gasping, Ed cries, "Poisoned... help!"

Mama and Thelonious are moving to try to help, but Trinia's already there. She is a druid, after all. Pulling herbs from her pouch, she crushes something and applies it to the wound, giving Ed something to chew as well. Ed grimaces at the medicinal taste, but it helps numb her belly, and the poison seems to have run its course.**

Grimly, our heroes go back to sleep. They hope that was the last of the night's dangers for them, and this time fate is with them. The morning sees another nice day, and they travel well. Again, there are many breaks, especially with Ed needing tending, but the band nonetheless makes good time. Near nightfall they find another wagon of halflings atop a hill, who have stopped for the night, and our heroes join them. According to the other group, who seem to be taking their sweet time getting to the gathering, it's only another two miles- easily done in the morning.

"We could leave after breakfast," remarks Ed as the two wagonloads of halflings mingle around a fire, "and make it to the gathering by elevensies!"

And indeed, the next morning that's exactly what our heroes do. When they arrive and it is known that they have successfully brought back the bell they are greeted with cheers and acclamation. A second set of rewards follows, including another purse of coins and a token identifying each of our heroes as a worthy to all other halflings. Then there's a feast of celebration, where our heroes are feted and enjoy themselves greatly, and finally the comfort of a nice plush bed. Our heroes drift to sleep in the midst of a safe encampment of their kind, sure in the knowledge that no spider will get them here.


*This was the result of my 'colorful critical hit' system, which deals extra effects based on the damage a crit deals vs. your current hp. (In other words, your head only gets cut off if you're reduced to -10 or less by the crit.)

**Successful heal check vs. secondary damage, natch.


Next Time: Readers of my old, original story hour may recognize an npc who pops up in our next update! Attack of the Dire Squirrels!

 

[Lela]

Wha, finally cought up. Got caught up in Finals and then managed to get really, really sick. Been busy going through projects and tissue.

Nicely written, on the parts of both authors. I was really gettting worried there (yes, you did fool me).

Back and here to stay,

 

[Mista Collins]

YAAAH!! There's more..... <claps his hands>

 

[the Jester]

Patronage

Airhead Ed skips happily along, the bottle of wine that was awarded to her clutched in her hand. It’s a fine halfling vintage, bearing the Redgrape label, and Ed just knows that it’s going to be great! A wide grin splits her face as she sings to herself and skips along the path between the wagons and tents.

The gathering is a riot of color, with brightly-painted wagons and dyed tents on every side. The folk largely recognize her, though her face will likely be forgotten by many in a few months; but for now she’s a hero! And thinking of the letter of introduction that she was awarded (like all her friends), she knows that she can count on halfling allies anywhere she goes.

“Oh!” Ed exclaims, catching herself as she nearly bumps into a short old woman with a scent like apples. “I’m sorry, old grandmother!”

“It’s all right, dearie,” the halfling matron sooths. “Say, you’re one of those younguns who got the bell, aren’t you?”

Ed blushes. “Yes,” she says modestly.

Beaming, the old woman says, “Oh, that was so nice of you! Well done, too- from the stories you kids have been telling it was very dangerous!” She opens her handbag and digs around for a moment, finally pulling out a bottle. “Here,” she says. “I don’t need this anymore- my days of adventuring are over! But you may. It’s a potion of healing. Take it as a token of my thanks.”

Speechless, Ed takes the proffered bottle. She watches gratefully as the old lady hobbles away humming to herself.

***

“Well, well,” says Gregory Yellowflower. “You seem to have made a bit of a name for yourself, Phenol.”

Phenol Sandybanks- Sandy to his friends- is relaxing, trying not to look nervous and doing a fairly good job of it. The Yellowflowers are well known as one of the moderately powerful and fairly wealthy clans, and- or so Sandy’s heard rumored- at least some of the money comes from less, well, legal activities. Not that there’s much law these days to worry about, but there are still tax collectors- as Sandy knows all too well!

“So what are your plans now?” Gregory continues. The two of them are in a large tent, full of comfortable but light furnishings. Gregory is seated behind a light writing desk and is opening a small box of polished mahogany. From it he withdraws a pair of cigars, snips them and offers one to Sandy, who accepts gratefully. The sweet aroma of the tobacco is almost as nice as that of Mama’s famous pancakes.

There’s a moment of silence as both cigars are puffed upon, broken only once both are nicely cherried. “I don’t know,” Sandy admits. “Take a little while off, maybe... I don’t really have any plans. Why?”

“Well, it seems that you’re developing some pretty useful skills,” Gregory answers blandly. “Skills that might be useful at times. Now, I don’t have anything in particular in mind, but you just never know.” He grins. “Perhaps I could offer you a retainer? And then you could be available to help me out with various tasks that your skills are suited for?”

Sandy studies the Yellowflower for a moment. It wouldn’t be wise to alienate someone with the kind of connections he might have... and besides, the Yellowflowers are a pretty successful clan. It can’t hurt to hitch one’s fortunes to the successful guys, right?

With a smile, Sandy graciously accepts a 50 gold piece retainer.

***

Ed is almost back to the wagons that the Flapjacks clan have set in a semicircle when she bumps into a beautiful beautiful man.

“Oh my!” she exclaims.

He’s... he’s...

Old enough to be mature, but young enough to be... well... young. Not a boy, he’s definitely a man. (Well, a halfling man, but you know what I mean.) His hair is a luxurious reddish-brown, set in little ringlets. He wears a proud purple cloak, a bright tunic and hose. A hat set at a jaunty angle almost completes the picture, but it’s the dazzling smile that really tops it off. “My apologies, my lady,” he says smoothly. “I was not watching where I was going!” He sweeps Ed’s hand into his and presses his warm lips to it. Ed’s heart is all aflutter, her head swimmingly light.

“Oh... I... I’m Ed,” she gasps.

“Zenvo Dalais, at your service,” and he bows sweepingly. “If only I had more time to talk with you!” Somehow both of her hands have become lightly clasped in his. She threatens to swoon. “But alas,” and he releases her, and a poignant yearning shoots through her, “I have many things that require my attention.” He takes a step back, his eyes seeming to hold her like a lover. “Perhaps we shall see each other again.” His smile again! -So warm and open, it’s irresistible!

“Oh... I...” Ed doesn’t even know what to say. So she gives up, leans forward, pecks him on the cheek and runs away.

***

A few hours later, on the outskirts of the camp, Ed and Sandy are walking together. She’s caught up in thoughts of Zenvo, and he’s caught up in thoughts of Gregory Yellowflower, so they aren’t talking too much. They’re actually, oddly, good company for each other because of this. But both are knocked clean out of their reveries when they hear a high-pitched scream. The two of them rush towards it and find a female halfling crying in fear. “My baby, my baby!” she shrieks.

Following her gaze, Ed and Sandy spot the child in question. He’s young, probably no older than four. Somehow, he’s gotten up a tree- high up a tree.

“What are you doing up there?” cries Ed. Thinking of climbing makes her think of her dead twin, Coco, and she bursts into tears, as usual.

“Kitty!” the child calls down, and claps his hands.

“Come down, kid!” Sandy shouts.

The child looks down. His eyes grow to the size of saucers. “Nuh-uh! I’m scared!” He sits down, then looks around sniffling. “Kitty?”

Sandy groans. “We’re going to have to climb after the kid,” he tells Ed. And while his face is turned from the tree, something hits him in the head. “Ow!” he cries angrily, turning to look.

“Kitty!” the boy cries gleefully, pointing.

Sitting on the branch, having emerged from a hollow in the tree, are a pair of squirrels.

Four-foot long squirrels, that is.

As Sandy and Ed gape at them, the dire squirrels spit rocks from their cheeks into their hands and start throwing.

“Kitty?” asks the child.


Next Time: A fight with dire squirrels, a party at the Featherheads, and introducing the Bakeswells!

 

[Lela]

Those may be the coolest monsters I've ever seen. Holy cow, what stats did you use?!?

 

[the Jester]

Those may be the coolest monsters I've ever seen. Holy cow, what stats did you use?!?

Homebrewed all the way! I'd post 'em here, but they're actually going in a forthcoming book (working title "Adversity"), so I'm afraid you have to wait.

The book will contain not just the dire squirrel, but also the megalosquirrel.

 

[the Jester]

Attack of the Squirrels!

Sandy cries out, “Those aren’t kitties!!”

Even as he speaks, he’s forced to duck as a volley of stones (held in the dire squirrels’ cheeks) shoots through the air at him and Ed. A number of other distressed halflings have started to gather, but the confusion is too great for any real organized assault on the squirrels, and who knows what they’ll do to the giggling lad up the tree? Even if they just spook him, he could fall and break his neck!

It’s up to us, Sandy realizes grimly. He pulls out and loads his crossbow, aims and fires- and his quarrel zings into the branch the dire squirrels and the boy are on, quivering for a moment. He catches a glimpse of Trinia in the crowd, taking cover behind a nearby wagon, and wonders if the squirrels still have a line of fire on his friend; they are elevated several dozen feet, after all. Yelling curses at the squirrels to try to keep them distracted, Sandy reloads with desperate speed.

Ed, meanwhile, rubs the blood from her head. The stone that pegged her left her a little shaky, but it also left her more than a little irate. Not only that, she’s a hero to her people; if she can’t help defeat a pair of squirrels, how long will her newfound increases status last? Not long. Right, then. She looks around, and spying a nearby spear, she moves swiftly to it and picks it up. Ed takes only a few seconds to test its balance, then throws- a perfect shot, as the spear arcs up and flies true. There’s a sickening thud as the shaft enters one of the squirrels and pins it to the tree. It squeals in terrible pain, its blood pumping from the wound, then, with a last wail, goes silent and limp.

The second squirrel chitters angrily at the people on the ground. Its bushy tail snaps back and forth in rage, but then a quarrel from Sandy’s crossbow takes it in the leg. With a squeal it tumbles forward and falls the deadly distance to the ground. It lands with a crunch, neck broken.

The boy is crying now; it seems that he’s come to realize that the ‘kitties’ were dangerous. Or perhaps he’s mourning them. Or, hell, could even be he realizes what’s on tonight’s menu. In any event, no more squirrels come out and he’s easily retrieved, leaving Ed’s fears of losing status unrealized.

***

Over the next few days our heroes relax, sleep and eat a lot. The gathering bell rings every morning to draw in any surrounding halflings that might not be at the site yet; as if any halflings might be able to miss the rich tapestry of aromas that floats from the cook fires and wagons of the halfling clans gathered in one place! Our heroes are recognized by many in the camp, and are almost universally accorded a certain extra helping of respect and courtesy. Strangers pass their pipes to the group, and even Federico finds himself getting extra good treatment from those outside his clan. Indeed, the Flapjacks youths have proven their worth.

Ed is utterly entranced by the thought of Zenvo Dalais. She tries to find him, and there are many signs of him; he’s very active politically with the tribes (though she neither knows nor especially cares what his political bent or ambitions might be). However, she always seems to just miss him. It’s a frustrating few days while she tries again and again, unsuccessfully, to track down the halfling man. What she wouldn’t give...!

Ed’s lucky break comes not when she finds Zenvo, but rather when she finds out where he’s going to be: the Featherheads are throwing a party, and he’s certain to be there. Excited, Ed wanders through the camp for half an hour, debating how to dress, how to do her hair, whether she should bring her friends, etc. Then she decides she’ll have a cake made.

“The Bakeswells!” she exclaims to herself. “I’ll get them to bake it- everyone knows their granny is the best baker since old Berry Cobbler herself!” And in hurrying off towards the Bakeswells, she comes within a dozen yards of her quarry, who is actually looking for either of two of the heroes of the bell (a title that has, ironically, been given to the party by a lot of the halflings; ironic because, of course, the adventurers that had been looking for the missing children in Bellhold had styled themselves the Heroes of the Bell, which Zenvo, as a halfling well-versed in all manner of tales knows).

Let’s look in on Zenvo’s thoughts a little, shall we? He’s actually more than a little concerned about his prospects here.

These halflings’ customs are... different, he’s thinking. Not like others I’ve met. Yet they seem to be almost better-off than our folk are in most places. And Strogass’ famous taint of evil doesn’t seem to really exist- sure, it’s a harsh place, but the folk here seem largely kind and decent. I guess the humans and dwarves are tilted more strongly to evil, and I’ve heard stories about those elves, but... He sighs. It’s my folk that concern me. Is this the place for me? Dorla held nothing, especially after Tengus started his damned camp. I wonder if anyone there realizes just how fast it’s moving? Heh... it doesn’t matter. I’m here now, not there. Zenvo scowls. And I have no power base, no name here. They don’t know me. I’ll have to do a lot of proving myself here. And it’s a very dangerous place, too. I’m no warrior! But... without putting myself into danger, I won’t be able to make it anywhere here.

Zenvo concentrates briefly, calling to mind the stories about the great ogre slaver to the north. That’s got to be it, he thinks glumly. I have to rescue those halflings, slay that ogre, and demonstrate both my prowess and my ability to help my people. And I know I can’t take Durlug on in a fair fight. But I’ve rolled around all my options here, and it’s the best one. And if I can get Hamstring, then I can take Durlug. If I’m lucky, I’ll be acclaimed Sheriff after that, which may not get me to my goal, but it is a good first step.

Breaking into a grin, Zenvo thinks, King of the halflings. I like the sound of that. And he trots over to a face he recognizes from the fete when they brought the bell back. “Hello!” he calls. “You’re one of the people who brought back the bell, aren’t you? One of the druids, right?”

Trinia looks at him and her breath catches. This suave fellow has a certain... presence... that affects her greatly.* He’s handsome, polite (well, at first, anyway), and he recognizes her! And- by the trees, he’s hot. Hot in a mature, confident way- yowza! Trinia sucks in a breath (I didn’t realize I’d stopped breathing, she thinks sardonically to herself) and answers, “Yes, I’m Trinia.”

“Ahh, Zenvo Dalais, at your service.” Smoothly he takes her hand and presses his lips to it. When he lets go of her fingers Trinia can feel the impression of his warm lips tingling. She almost lets out a sigh. He smiles warmly at her. “Perhaps I could have a few moments of your precious time?”

She nods wordlessly. Trinia is honored to think that this fine specimen of halfling maleness wants to spend time with her; really, of course, she’s the hero, and he’s the one who ought to be honored by spending time with her. This won’t occur to her for quite some time, however.

“I was wondering if you could help me with something,” Zenvo says. “I have heard stories of a terrible ogre warrior that has enslaved many of our people. I seek to defeat him, but I know that I cannot beat him in open combat. I need a certain weapon, and I was hoping you could help me acquire it.”

"'Acquire?'" Trinia asks with a hint of amusement.

“Ah, I do not speak of theft- it’s in the possession of an old druid. I would not seek to steal from such a man! However, he’s old- too old to bear arms himself now. In his day, he was a mighty warrior of nature, and he laid low many a giant; but now he can no longer travel, and his mind is almost gone. He’s senile.” Zenvo sighs with regret and his next words are spoken very dramatically. “Were he still capable, I would ask him to accompany me, but I fear that the journey I must undertake would kill him. No, I must needs have that weapon for this battle, but I suspect that he would not listen to my words. You, however, are a fellow druid...”

“And you think he’ll give it to me?”

“I hope he will. It is for the good of our folk, but this will not move him; he’s not a halfling, so we must appeal to his bond of fellowship with you.” And Zenvo smiles again, chasing all shadows from Trinia’s heart (at least for a few minutes). “And I’m sure you can do it. I can give you directions to his place; it may be dangerous, you may wish to bring the rest of your group with you.”

Trinia nods.

"Perhaps we can speak more about this later?" suggests Zenvo. “There’s a party tonight at the Featherheads....”

*It’s that Charisma of 21, that’s what it is.

Next Time: The party at the Featherheads! What happens when we get Ed, Trinia and Zenvo in one place at one time??

 

[Lela]

Homebrewed all the way! I'd post 'em here, but they're actually going in a forthcoming book (working title "Adversity"), so I'm afraid you have to wait.

The book will contain not just the dire squirrel, but also the megalosquirrel.

*Starts saving money now.*


Great, it's a hot halfling huckster. And he's manipulating miniture men (okay, women). The slimeball!

 

[the Jester]

*Starts saving money now.*


Great, it's a hot halfling huckster. And he's manipulating miniture men (okay, women). The slimeball!

Heh... it all depends on how you look at him. If you're interested, check this out: Enter Zenvo!

 

[Lela]

I'll wait until I get a chance to read the old Sory Hour before I comment.