Picking up after the events of Cockatrice Kazoo, the triumphant party prepared to go on south towards Blemish with the Theurgist’s wagon. We are back in the Shared World around this village east of Minaea, and follow our last “Questgiver“, a term that still goes counter to my gaming sensibilities.
The party – Gilead the fighter, Jim the MU, Mercutio the cleric, Sir Eric the thief and two mute torchbearers – was met by a noble solo fighter called Raven, who travelled the land with her trusty dog Fang, and we chose to travel together. Then an elven trader popped up and sold us a hunting hawk (whom I dubbed “Elfred”) and another trusty dog, going by the name of Galadhrim, as well as some wine that he advertised as massively potent; a claim that made each and every player decide to wait and watch what would happen with whoever dared drink it. Which means, no-one did.
We travelled onwards, and met a post-rider with the quite fateful name “Rhydr”. It seems he was wyrded at birth to become a post-rider! From him we learned to our astonishment that news of our Cockatrice adventure had already travelled far and wide, and also news about our loot. Which explained the quick appearance of the elvish trader, and put us on edge: it does not pay to wander through the wild hills when everyone talks about your sacks full of gold.
Don’t go with Strangers
Shortly thereafter, we met a Vicar on foot: the next who immediately brought up the topic of our wealth, congratulated us on our gold and glory, and without much fanfare invited us to leave the road to go into the lonely wilderness with him.
Small wonder that we party members assumed the stranger to be a highwayman and blackguard who wanted to lead us into an ambush. We were still wondering if we should simply move on and push him out of the way or stop and string this knave up by the neck, when he let slip that he was not a bandit nor a thief, but rather another “Questgiver”.
Woe that all the Questgivers somehow antagonise and put the players on their toes with their weird behaviour…. alas, thanks to this helpful label a majority of the party decided to say yes and go with this “Vicar” to help him. Our previous employer Polyanna and her rude/odd halfling companion kept moving toward Blemish before continuing west to Minaea. Confident that we would catch up with them, we listened to the Vicar and heard that the local creek has been blocked farther upstream and the farms go dry; he was going to take a look at that.
Archers in the brambles
We found the creek blocked with stones and wood, and moved forward to inspect it, while a group of farmers stayed farther back. Suddenly we found ourselves shot at. A small group of archers lay hidden in the brambles and let loose. Again, the two fighters suspected that the Vicar was secretly in league with the villains.
But no time now! The two fighters and their dogs stormed forward at once, followed by the men of god: The Vicar and Mercutio the cleric.
Meanwhile, Sir Eric loosed arrow after arrow at the foes, and Jim the magic user cast Sleep — to no effect! This gave him much distress: how strong were those enemies, if they shrugged off this powerful magic? He chose to follow the proceedings with caution from afar.
The arrows from Eric and the foes both missed outright or pinged off strong armor for several rounds, and the fighters forded the river at two different points, Gilead with Galadhrim up north and Raven with Fang down south.
Trust earned
That was when arrows started to find their mark: The thief hit one of the archers, and an archer hit Gilead hard, laying him low at the river bank. Luckily, the Vicar was right behind him and quickly saved the downed swordsman.
Meanwhile, the dogs and Raven attempted to break through the vegetation to bloody the enemy; which turned out to be quite difficult.
They and Mercutio soon closed with the archers and bloody melee ensued; which wounded and then struck down Raven AND Mercutio, while Eric finally had found his range and feathered the enemies thoroughly. However, most of the praise should go to the faithful hounds Galadhrim and Fang, who ripped out chunks of archer flesh bit by bit, lending the wounded some respite and time for the clergy to lend aid.
The revived fighter Gilead struck down an archer with mighty blows, while the Vicar saved Mercutio with his last spell, and Mercutio in turn saved Raven. The last two archers attempted to flee and were shot at, one ripped to little shreds by the dogs, the other surrounded and slain by the wounded party.
Sharing around a potion of health with a fixed HP amount of effect we brought every wounded one up to half strength – and we had to say thanks and sorry to the Vicar, whom we had gravely wronged with our mistrust, based solely on his rude and fiscal-centric behaviour.
Success!
With the villains slain the farmers cleared the blockage of the stream, and found valuable stones. Raven and the Thief found some garnets of their own. And the evil archers also had loot of their own, surely taken from other adventurers, which we added to our own hoard.
We also found the archers to be, under their helmets, singularly ugly fellows of a sort unknown to us. So we decided to take their heads to let Polyanna have a look at them and tell us what they were, especially in light of their resistance to the Sleep spell. They surely were not ogre-level strong. And so a new rumor was born: maybe an evil witch had warded them?
Thereafter, while the newly rich farms-people went off to celebrate, and in their enthusiasm called us “the greatest heroes who ever lived”, we said our goodbyes to the Vicar and turned around – towards Blemish.
PAPIER UND SPIELE 