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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Mark" data-source="post: 2823227" data-attributes="member: 5">The tale begins . . .Frederick von Jungingen stretched in the saddle. The Dawn Way was a useful, well-kept road. His rear end had used the last one hundred and fifty miles and the two weeks that took to break in a new steed as his companions and he spanned eastward across the Elsir Vale. He was pleased the journey was nearly over. They’d rest for a bit in Drellin’s Ferry, buy passage over the Elsir River the next day, and then head North a short distance to Vraath Keep in some area called the Witchwood. As the tale goes, there is supposed to be an unclaimed treasure hidden somewhere in the abandoned keep. Naturally the keep is haunted. Frederick had been told that wouldn’t be a problem. He decided to go there anyway.Garret Tosscable glanced up at Fred on his horse. He wished he hadn’t had to walk all the way across the Vale. But he didn’t care much for big clumsy animals and the one riding the horse didn’t like passengers behind his saddle. Being only half the size of Fred didn’t leave Garret the option of bullying his way into getting a ride. Garret had heard there’d be a clan of his own people running an inn at Drellin’s Ferry. He’d wondered if all of it would have been built to accommodate the big folk, business being business and little folk being in the minority. Garret didn’t really mind. That just meant there’d be plenty of extra room in his bed. And when it came to his bed, Garret Tosscable didn’t mind passengers one little bit.Berndeick could tell by Garret’s leer he was having thoughts of licentiousness. Amazing how he could read the little one’s face when they were just walking down the road. When they shared stories of their past near the campfire he could rarely believe the ones from Garret and at those times the face was an unreadable mask. They were good stories, just the same, even if the tactical details were always hazy. Berndeick liked to keep on top of the tactical situation in all things. He always picked the best spot, with the broadest local leaves, before dropping his breaches in the woods. Extra planning made everything better.Arthvael Cadarn glanced at the emblem of Moradin when it peeked out from under the nest that adorned Berndeick’s chin. The group needed a healer and they were lucky to have him. Too long Arthvael had been about the task of gathering a group of adventurers. The vague map to the Keep in the Witchwood might not be the only one of its kind and the sooner they got there the better. Some research had revealed the ruins had been crumbling for a couple of hundred years since the tribal giants of the forest wiped out the erstwhile nobles who had called it home. The stories of a “spirit” now haunting the place apparently kept most folks away. Arthvael would deal with that when he had a better idea what it truly was. Perhaps they were just stories.Ludious Banderback knew that Arthvael and the others would be counting on him soon. Although the North Road that allowed caravans to continue beyond the Vale split the woods, there was no telling how far off of the main route the ruins of Vraath Keep decayed. He planned on digging up a little of the local flavor on the place before assaulting it directly and reaping the harvest of treasure it surely held. Ludious had found smaller needles in bigger, older haystacks. If the group had all been mounted like von Jungingen, they might have been munching that hay last week.Atgur raised one thick finger to the side of his nose, held his right nostril closed and cleared the other on the side of the path. He chuckled as he imagined an enemy, perhaps a goblin, stepping on it and becoming stuck. It’d be even funnier if Ludious missed noticing the snot trap and slid his heel through it. Still, Ludious’s tracking ability came in handy when they hunted together and they rarely missed bagging, and bragging about, some sort of quarry. Atgur enjoyed being out of the towns and off of the roads. He was looking forward to the next couple of days with some dread. His stomach rumbled. He belched. When Atgur belched he usually farted as well. He didn’t plan it that way but this time was no exception.Himo cringed as he took in the cacophony of sounds and plethora of smells that was Atgur. Having Atgur and Berndeick in the party was like having the moon in the sky while the sun was still up. They’d play their part, he had no doubt. They weren’t the kind to avoid being well within the fray when trouble started. Himo would be sure to document every bit of the action, and help out where he could if it wasn’t too dangerous. He didn’t believe it was coincidence that the last one standing at all the great moments in history just happened to be the good storytellers. He believed the good storytellers had an obligation to live to tell the tale, and by extraction his companions had a responsibility to keep him alive at all costs. He planned to butter them up over dinner and make sure they understood that part.The road rose and fell even as it slipped through the odd patch of woods sprinkled across the Elsir Vale. Most, like this last one before Drellin’s Ferry, had signs of previous or current habitation. Shouldn’t be but just a couple more miles on the other side of this tree stand and-“Ambush!” shouted Ludious only a moment before the first arrow whistled by his head. He had absently been fidgeting with his own bow since they first approached this copse. He had also mechanically notched an arrow in unwary anticipation of the worst. Now, he let that arrow fly. It struck home in the shoulder of one of the enemy attackers. A curse in a goblinoid tongue betrayed their origin. They must have come from across the Elsir River out of the Wyrmsmoke Mountains. Many evil tribes festered there but it was surprising to encounter them this side of the waterway. He notched another arrow.Frederick leaned forward in the saddle and swung his shield around just in time to catch one of the missiles with an ominous thud. He looked from side to side and figured about a half a dozen hobgoblins had them at a disadvantage with three to the left and the same to the right. They’d come to regret splitting their numbers even if that seemed the best way to set this trap. He lowered his visor, his lance, and his sights as he spurred Gar up the embankment and toward one of the assailants.Garret dodged to the side of the road. His small frame had to scramble to get up the side and into cover. The road took a dip here and it was no wonder they chose this place to lie in wait. “Two can play at that game,” thought Garret as he panned the trees for the best place to slip through the enemy lines.“Who’s up for hobgob-kebobs?!” shouted Atgur as he leapt up out of the road-trough they found themselves in. Head down, digging in with his lower body, he topped the roadside and dashed toward one of the opponents. Along the way he pulled his great axe out of the straps across his back.Himo edged a little closer behind Ludious. He didn’t have a ranged weapon of his own. Although it might seem cowardly, he figured he could crouch and make himself into a smaller target, taking advantage of the embankments on either side to lessen the chance of an arrow striking him. He opted against it. This was their first real fight as a group and he didn’t want to appear a coward. An arrow grazed his head and as a trickle of blood reached his left eye, he crouched.Hobgoblin missiles pinging off of his finely made armor, Berndeick moved forward and placed his hand on Himo’s forehead. Gauging that the depth of the cut was negligible, he declared, “You’ll live,” and then placed his body between the source of the missiles and the main body of their group. Barking, “Moradin, protect me,” he looked forward and off to the side of the road. A dilapidated farmhouse was being choked by weeds and vines. “If these grunts are led by a better, he’d probably shack up in there,” thought Berndeick. In answer to his conjecture two black hounds with smoke spewing from their snouts sprang over a breach in the old farmhouse wall and toward the fray. They’d be on them soon.“YOU ARE WEARY!” exclaimed Arthvael Cadarn at the nearest hobgoblin who promptly collapsed to snoring. He grimaced as an arrow struck him in the thigh. He got a bead on which one of the remaining archers had fired that particular shot and made a mental note of which tree trunk was its refuge. Annoyed, the half of him tinged with the blood of the fey folk coaxed him to bide his time and make revenge worth taking.Arrows continued to fly toward the adventurers on the road but in less abundance. Berndeick’s taunts attracted the majority of those and they simply weren’t suited to piercing his armor or fell short as if they were purposefully shot into the ground by half-hearted hobgoblins. Gar reared up briefly and took one arrow through his barding into his left pectoral but deflected a second with an iron shod hoof. Arthvael’s immediate foe plunked him with a second arrow, this time a bit higher up the thigh. The half of Arthvael that was human-blooded was not amused.Garret crawled between two hobgoblins that were unaware of his presence. Now, beyond the scope of the battle, he turned to assess his next move.Himo recalled a bit of verse he hoped would uplift his comrades. He launched into a recitation, translating it from elven and into the common tongue on the fly. Realizing after he had begun that a story about two elves in love might not be appropriate, he changed one of the elves to a dwarf, mentally edited the other into some non-descript beast, and replaced the part about the kissing with bloodshed. It would have to do.Two more arrows, this time from Ludious, twisted through the trees to tap both shoulders of a victim who then acknowledged his marksmanship by slumping over to the ground dead. The praise was short but sweet; actions speaking louder and such.Berndeick continued to move forward, noting another half dozen hobgoblins double-timing their way along a path from the other side of the copse beyond the farmhouse remnants. With them was a fiercer looking opponent. “There’s the head of this snake,” muttered the dwarf to himself.Will the adventurers manage to survive the hobgoblin ambush? We’ll find out next time in this RHoD Story Hour . . .</blockquote>

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