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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Goonalan" data-source="post: 1302767" data-attributes="member: 16069">THE WEDNESDAY KNIGHTSSESSION I- Part 2.Sunday 2nd Jankers 2000Year of the DarkGuard that Potato.The rain comes down and within minutes the party are soaked, hunched and miserable they blow clouds of cold air and stamp their feet- Liandri in the puddles, much to the Mallaria’s annoyance.“STOP THAT.” Each word a solid blow.Liandri mooches away from the petulent Barbarian, “make me”, he whispers under his breath, but only when he is sure that no one is about to hear his challenge.Five minutes later Felix arrives."Where's Xeolus?""Bed. He says he didn't get to sleep till late and he thinks he's got a bit of a snuffle, so it's best he rests up." Endrin states, unconvinced.The group looks elsewhere as Felix shakes his head."Bloody kids." He lets the statement hang in the air.With a damp shrug and a backward wave he leads them out of town- there’s no one around to see them go.“Where are we going?” Endrin pipes up chipper despite the hour and the downpour.“Farmer Brown’s place.” Felix says without breaking stride.“What’s there then?”“Potato’s”“What?” The other members of the party stop and stare at Felix’s receding form. The dwarf walks on until he is certain their footsteps have stopped- at which point he turns to face the group his hands in the air, ready to placate and if possible explain.“Right. Farmer Brown is paying each of us £3 to deliver his Potato’s to town- his farm has been attacked by Kobolds twice in the last week, they stole a chicken and a pig.”[DM’s note- the currency of the age is the Golden Dollar ($’s) ($1 = 1 Gold Piece, $5 = 1 Platinum Piece, 50 cents (c’s) = 1 Electrum Piece, 10 cents = 1 Silver Piece, 1 cent = 1 Copper piece). Except for Dwarves who don’t hold with Dollars- using the above exchange rate change Dollars to Pounds (£’s) and cents to pennies (p’s). Dwarves are just strange like that- they invented money afterall.] Bob shrugs, “fair enough” and walks on- the others briefly look around and then follow suit, Endrin smiles broadly at Mallaria who stands statue in the centre of the road- “Potato’s… Potato’s? Xeolus got it right. Sod that, I’m off back to bed- you can keep your spuds.” With that she turns and trudges off back to Amberdale and the warm mattresses of the Birchwhistle Inn.“She’s a miserable bitch”, remarks Endrin.From six the party is reduced to four, apparently Potato protection is not everyone's cup of tea.A wet and muddy hour later they arrive at Farmer Brown’s, in the yard Old Tom the carthorse is being hitched to the cart that Old Bill “Filthy Hoe” Garvey and Terry “The Spade” McGuire have just finished loading. Farmer Brown sees the group and waves them over while Mrs. Brown fetches them a good strong brew…The tea drunk, Farmer Brown leaps onto the cart and with a courtly gesture invites the group to join him, there are spaces for two other party members. Liandri rides shotgun, while Endrin hitches a ride on the wagon’s tailgate. The rain has almost stopped and bruised cotton wool clouds frame the sun.  Endrin whistles a happy tune as he follows behind the cart, Felix and Bob stride off in front- outriders.Three hours later the first load is done, and in good time, they are back at the farm and ready for the second run- only a half-load left after that.On the second run about two miles from the farm Old Tom (the carthorse) draws to a halt, snorts at the air and begins to toss his head back and forth- his left front leg paws the dirt of the road. Felix, walking ahead of the cart checks the balance of his staff, Endrin notches an arrow and scans either side of the road, Bob half-draws his longsword, and Liandri begins to get a little nervous. The silence folds in upon the party like the clouds around the sun, Farmer Brown mutters something and keeps his eyes on Old Tom- the horse continues to make his mark in the dirt road. There is a palpable charge to the air, a light drizzle begins- the tension is unbearable for some- Liandri is now stood in the wagon his bow drawn, hands shaking- wanting and yet not wanting to let go, waiting for something, anything, to happen…Silence except for the rain, except for pained whinny of Old Tom the horse, except for the slap of Felix’s stave on his open hand, except for low creak of Bob’s leather armour as he twists to stare frantically in all directions, except for Endrin’s piping staccato whistle through his dry lips, except for the strangled cough of Farmer Brown hunched and low.Silence except for the chitter of the arrow hard against Liandri’s bow, the tension in his hands through his wrists holding, holding, holding… the colour draining from him, white fear.  Silence.Suddenly an explosion of sound causing the cart itself to vibrate, followed by a dull wet thud- like a body dropping into a muddy puddle. Coming soon... Liandri and Old Tom make a pile...</blockquote>

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