Behold, more D66 goodness! This time, the doughty battle axe! Favored by dwarves, barbarians, seafaring raiders, and those folks who just like to chop stuff!
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| Download Me Here |
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Closing in on another dozen lists, so will compile another baker's dozen soon...
Oops, behind on my journaling. I have a few sessions to catch up: my OSE campaign, the Shadowdark campaign, and a Shadowdark one-shot.
Let's get to it, shall we?
Slim attendance at the campaign, with several schedule conflicts. So you run for who shows:
The party headed south, guided by Bogumir, and with two wagons of good hardwoods in tow. Slick occupied his time by pranking Snogriz the assayer.
The journey was generally uneventful as they travelled a rugged wagon-road. After two days, they arrived at a caravanserai surrounded by a stout wall and offering stables, a tower with lodging, and a well to replenish water. Symas, the proprietor, welcomed Bogurmir, and had his crew unhitch and settle the animals. Slick was pleased to see active guards on the wall, and that the various stablehands looked like they could handle themselves in a scrap.
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Symas questioned why the party was attempting to trade late in the season, and shared that the desert elves had not visited much over the last year. They seemed even more uptight than usual...
The stay at the caravanserai was uneventful, the food fair.
Was poking through my blog last night while scuffling with Google regarding my most recent post flagging, and discovered that I had said "Hi" to the blog community eleven years ago.
Time flies.
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| Leicester (RIP) says hi from wherever he is... |
Well, you look in a slightly better mood...
Got the days re-set, I think. Forest seems less uptight. But my student done got blowed up.
Sorry to hear. That happens.
You blew up a student, too?
No, can't say that I have.
Can I have these rations?
Those are dog treats. Whatever, go ahead...
***
We stand there, watching what's left of Milos dissolve in the light. I lose more interns that way (OK, well, just this one).
Whatcha want to do, Dremont? Well, we're in the neighborhood. Might as well go find that relic hammer.
We know it's to the north, past some marshes, so a-slogging we go. At least the marshes may be frozen...
Crossing the marsh, we find a batch of abandoned huts, flooded by the marsh. Dremont notices something in the ice of the march.
Alligator nose.
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Well, at least we won't have to contend with them. Dremont resists the urge to pick a nose.
Near nightfall, and we stumble on an old low stone wall. It looks in good shape, even for its age. It seems to be surrounding something, but we don't see a gate. So we hop over. Nothing could go wrong with a little trespassing. Standing in the middle of the enclosure is a big ol' menhir.
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