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Message: <blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 1342874" data-attributes="member: 1210">BromworthBromworth the ogre roars as an arrow sinks deep into his meaty pectoral.  Swiveling his old head from side to side, he struggles to pull a javelin out and starts moving towards the source of his aggravation.  “RRRAGH!” he roars, and hurls.Martini squeaks and ducks, and the ogre’s javelin lances over his head.  Then he draws his bowstring back and lets another arrow go.  It sinks into the ogre’s belly.  He can see Thelonious’ arrows striking true as well.  There’s a burst of green radiance as Captain Cavedwarf’s shillelagh spell goes off, then the dwarf, Ed and Bytor are circling around to flank the monster.Old Bromworth swings his greatclub as the small ones come in on him.  He’s bleeding in several places and his old body can’t take punishment like it used to.  His pot, used to gather water, has fallen on the ground behind him unnoticed; it isn’t important right now.  What’s important right now is survival.  With a huge roar, the faltering ogre swings at the little creatures stinging at him like insects, but his vision’s fading.  Trinia hurls her spear and it sticks deep in the ogre’s chest.  Bromworth staggers back on one leg, shaking his head slowly back and forth.  Blood is dripping from his mouth now; he can feel his lung collapse, pierced by the shaft.  He groans.  This isn’t going so well... and then the final insult: a crossbow bolt from a kobold!  It sinks into Bromworth’s shoulder and the ogre thinks briefly about the irony- after all, as a lad he’d eaten many kobolds- and then closes his eyes.  He’s almost done and he knows it.Thelonious’ next arrow finds the ogre’s closed left eye and pierces it, ripping a hole right in the monster’s not-so-prodigious brain, and Bromworth the Ogre falls dead in the center of a circle of halflings.“We did it!” Thelonious cries ecstatically.“Whoo-hoo!” shouts Ed.  Our heroes celebrate joyously- they didn’t even suffer a scratch!*After whooping it up for a few minutes, the adventurers settle down.  “Well, we can get the weapon from the old druid now,” Trinia says, but Ed stops her.“We should check the ogre’s lair for loot,” the Airhead suggests.  “Maybe it had something cool.”“Good idea,” Federico beams happily, his tail a blur it’s wagging so fast.  The group starts up the trail towards the ogre’s cave.  It looks to be around a half mile away, so the ever-sensible Trinia suggests they stop for a snack.  If they’d looked behind them they might have seen a lone form headed their way.***Behind them comes Mama Flapjacks, humming an old halfling folk song as she comes.  She’s munching on a candied carrot, and boy is it good!  Those Hodiddlys- they might be the newest clan, but they sure have some good recipes for treats!  Why, sometime the Flapjacks and the Hodiddlys might just have to exchange some favored children for a few years.**Well, that old druid’s hut has to be up here somewhere, and by the gods, if he’s hurt the kids he’ll learn all about rocks and sticks, that’s for sure!Marching and munching on, Mama continues her steady pace after our heroes.***Meanwhile, at the gathering, a sly little figure slips from shadow to shadow in the Bakeswell circle of wagons.  The figure disappears under a wagon and enters it through a hidden trap door.  Crawling up a small ladder, the figure emerges in a well-cushioned secret compartment and peers through a peephole.  The wagon holds only members of the Bakeswell clan, so the figure slides the panel up and emerges.“Any luck?” Fandrin Bakeswell asks instantly.“No,” the figure answers, taking her hood down to reveal her face.  It’s Chindra Bakeswell.  She’s ugly by any standard, but she’s a Bakeswell; she knows she’ll have a good husband some day, because she’s learned to make over a hundred types of prize-winning quality pie, cake, biscuit and donut.  Still, this ‘issue’ is depressing.“What are we going to do?” moans Fandrin.“Look, we know our jams are fantastic.  Why, probably a tenth of the clan’s income is from them!  Some upstart Peachtree lad winning a few contests is no threat to us.”  This is from a figure sitting back in the corner, an aged fellow bound to be the next head of the clan names Aymand.  Now he shifts forward.  “And besides, if this kid is making some competition for us, maybe we’ve gotten complacent.  We need to win in a fair contest and show ‘em the Bakeswells are the best.”“But our jams are on the open market.  He knows what they’re like!  And we’ve never even gotten a whiff of his!  How can we concoct the proper culinary countermeasures when we don’t even know what we’re trying to counter?!”“A sample,” the ugly Chindra says, “would be an ideal solution.  But they don’t have it here- I searched quite thoroughly- and so far the only people who’ve gotten to try it are the judges at the contests he’s entered so far.”“Contests,” interjects Fandrin, “that he’s won handily.”Aymand snorts.  “That won’t last forever.  The Peachtree lad hasn’t faced off with a Bakeswell jam yet.  And it seems to me that there’s an obvious solution.”“Nobody’s going to accept a Bakeswell as a judge in a contest that the clan has interest in,” objects Fandrin.“Of course not,” Aymand says.  “That’s why we have friends.”  He smiles.  “You know, contests always seem to get at least one local celebrity as a judge, and we did just make a good friend with one of these new Flapjack heroes...”*Of the group present for this fight, only Thelonious and Cavedwarf were 2nd level- everyone else was 1st!  Taking down an ogre was no mean feat.  Of course, Bromworth had the ‘venerable’ penalties applied to him- which, of course, made the fight easier- but still, I was half-expecting at least one more pc fatality from this fight.  Heck, they didn’t even take a wound!**The halfling clans keep tight alliances by swapping children.  When two clans cross paths they’ll often trade some kids so they can learn the other clan’s trades, recipes and tricks.  Especially since some clans excel at certain crafts or professions, this helps insure no halfling lore will be permanently lost. Sandy from our own group of adventurers is an example of this.  His full name is actually Phenol Sandybanks and he’s technically a member of the Sandybanks clan, but he’s been adopted into the Flapjacks in one of these ‘cultural exchanges.’Next Time: Our heroes investigate the ogre’s lair!</blockquote>

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