It had been a pleasant day of chopping and whittling and I was wandering along the main street of Trolls Bane when glancing off toward the ocean I spotted a large ship with red sails. "Exciting!" I whispered to myself for it had been long since I had seen a foreign ship come to port. If only I'd known HOW exciting it would become I might have turned around and gone right back to the peaceful wood. However, often ignorance of the future is a great blessing, for how many adventures would we miss if we knew the outcomes ahead of time.
As it was I hurried my pace and headed to the docks where I found an orc washing his gloves in the river. I enquired of him about the ship and was answered quite rudely that of course he had seen it and leave him alone. Insulted I decided to do just that and was just about to go away when I saw in the distance a small rowboat, rowing toward the shore. I asked, "Do you see that, a rowboat. I wonder who it is?"
The orc, exasperated, responded, "I have no idea. Can't you leave me alone with your silly questions? You have much to much questions for such a puny little baby." With that he stomped off and good riddance at that. Little did he know his leaving may have well saved his life for soon several dwarves appeared and started staring after the row boat as though they felt something important might be happening that involved them.
Soon, the rowboat docked and a man got out, "Greetings. I am Siegbert Altenwald, be greeted." The assembled group asked where he was from and were answered, "I am a knight of the order of the eagle. My ship is the King Ronald, I am here to resuplly with water." It turned out that his ship had been attacked by orcs trying to prevent him from reaching his destination, "My ship's cargo is not very expensive, nevertheless, we were attacked by orc pirates who want to stop us before the cargo reaches its destination. It is a special kind of ore that makes blades harder. It's destination is a city under siege that needs this ore to strengthen its defenses and the only way to reach this city is by ship."
Sensing an excellent opportunity to make a profit and possibly earn the good will of Trolls Bane by opening up a new trade route I said, "Perhaps we could get in on the trade of this ore if we can but get you to your destination." The man replied that he was sure that the dwarves would thank anyone who helped them defend their city.
Suddenly Durin Goldtooth interjected, "Arr its a dwarven city?" only to be echoed by several other dwarves present. "I don' like boats, but I'll save me brothers yar!" The other dwarves shouted agreement. It amazed me how these dwarves could go from cynical and skeptical to immediate enthusiasm, all based on the fact that someone of their race was in trouble. Why was it that other races weren't more like that. We seem to be so absorbed in ourselves that others just don't matter yet dwarves have this amazing brotherhood that we of other races can only hope to achieve one day.
The passage to help was set at 100gp each and 20 buckets of water which we easily mustered up. We boarded the ship amidst much grumbling. For those of you who don't know, dwarves are not overtly fond of water. There were many doomsayers on that trip, certain we would all meet a watery grave when the boat sank to the depths. I took the position of humored onlooker in all this for no matter how I tried to ingratiate myself they did not seem apt to take me in as a friend or comrade. I was more apt to be known as the shorty who had no business sticking his tiny nose into the affairs of his betters. To be perfectly honest I couldn't ague well against this idea. After all, I am a merchant, the most dangerous battle I'd ever been in was with a swarm of mosquitoes or that one tough pig that just wouldn't die. Here I was placing myself in the very real position of dying at the hands of trained murderers. The ornate staff I'd brought seemed a poor weapon compared to the deadly axes of my ship mates. So I bore my journey in silence, wondering how I could have allowed my greed to get me in such a predicament.
Gibble Thibblebum
~Farmers Union~
Dwarven friends.
Moderator: Gamemasters
-
Gibble Thibblebum
- Posts: 75
- Joined: Tue Mar 15, 2005 3:31 pm
Attack!
Several days later the dwarves had not tired of their dire prophesies of doom. However, we were all fortunate that this group of dwarves contained no true, gifted oracle. However, as the sun rose the lookout yelled to us all, "Some logs in the water." Looking over the fore bow I saw that he was indeed correct, large logs were all about in front of us, possibly the remains of a less fortunate vessel, however they still posed a very real danger to us. "Arrr the ship will broken on the logs." was shouted by one crewmate. I called for axes to possibly chop the wood into small pieces we could push about but there was no time. The captain called for the ship to halt to avoid puncturing the hull. In the mean time I tried pushing some of the logs away with my staff but it was really too short to do much good plus I just wasn't strong enough. The ship crashed into the logs and while they did not breach the hull, they did effectively stop our progress, which was actually exactly what someone had intended.
I heard Durin call from the aft of the ship, "Look out! It's the orcs!" Turning around I saw what he referred to, there was a raft of 4 orcs approaching the ship. They fired volleys of arrows at us and the dwarves replied in kind. I tried to launch fireballs at the orcs but my magic backfired on me every time, hardly helping us at all. I ran to the front of the ship to hide from the arrows since I couldn't help, only to find that another raft had circled around to the front and orcs were pouring over the rails there as well.
"Eep!" I squeeked as I backpeddaled away from the foe, sure I would soon die. However, my hearty comrades had heard me, seen the orcs and quickly descended on them. After a moment I realised that I should help out as well but by then they had dispatched every one of the invaders and promptly began dumping their corpses over the railing. I stood back as they finished killing the orcs on the distant raft and clearing our bloody deck. I stood dumbfounded, unable to move. Frozen at the thought of what had just happened and how quickly it was over. I sat off in a corner, out of their way, certain that a small person such as myself could never be of any use to such a mighty band of warriors.
By the end of the day we caught our first sight of land, and were the dwarves happy to see land again. Does a fish miss the water when flopping around a frying pan?
Gibble Thibblebum
~Farmers Union~
I heard Durin call from the aft of the ship, "Look out! It's the orcs!" Turning around I saw what he referred to, there was a raft of 4 orcs approaching the ship. They fired volleys of arrows at us and the dwarves replied in kind. I tried to launch fireballs at the orcs but my magic backfired on me every time, hardly helping us at all. I ran to the front of the ship to hide from the arrows since I couldn't help, only to find that another raft had circled around to the front and orcs were pouring over the rails there as well.
"Eep!" I squeeked as I backpeddaled away from the foe, sure I would soon die. However, my hearty comrades had heard me, seen the orcs and quickly descended on them. After a moment I realised that I should help out as well but by then they had dispatched every one of the invaders and promptly began dumping their corpses over the railing. I stood back as they finished killing the orcs on the distant raft and clearing our bloody deck. I stood dumbfounded, unable to move. Frozen at the thought of what had just happened and how quickly it was over. I sat off in a corner, out of their way, certain that a small person such as myself could never be of any use to such a mighty band of warriors.
By the end of the day we caught our first sight of land, and were the dwarves happy to see land again. Does a fish miss the water when flopping around a frying pan?
Gibble Thibblebum
~Farmers Union~
-
Gibble Thibblebum
- Posts: 75
- Joined: Tue Mar 15, 2005 3:31 pm
Tharak Silverhelm and a homeward jouney
The dwarves tumbled from the ship in an excited heap and immediately began kissing the sandy beach, so thrilled to back on
solid land again. I plucked an apple from a tree, glad to have some fresh fruit ofter the long trip. However, it didn't
take long for us to remember why we were there and start looking for the dwarven city.
Not a mile from the beach we came accross a river...with a bridge...and a Troll...asking for a toll. I almost laughed
remembering a similar little nursery rhyme my mother had read to me as a child however, this was no nursery rhyme. The
creature was HUGE and green and deadly as could be. "Troll wants toll." seemed to be the only thing it could say. We
tried to get it to leave on threats...didn't work. When asked how much of a toll it replied, "Many gold things." Durin
decided that it would be easier to pay the brute than to fight it off so he threw it some coins. "More." it responded, so
he began throwing the coins past the troll. The troll turned to follow the coins and pick them up and so was led away from
the bridge and into the woods where it stayed.
With that behind us we continued on the path that seemed it must lead to the dwarven citadel we searched for. Soon, we
found the stone gates to Facias, the dwarven city. And as we did, a cry was heard from one of the dwarves, "ORCS!" I
turned and sure enough, there they were again, large as life. I was stunned and staggered away from them as the dwarves
swarmed over the foes, anxious to spill the blood of these foes.
I don't know how it happened or when but, as I saw an orc strike one of the dwarves, from somewhere deep inside arose a
strong and abiding anger. With a cry my feet moved of their own accord. I grabed up a sword that was lying by a fallen orc
and charged the last remaining orc, already engaged in battle with a dwarf. My blade sunk deep into the creatures back. I
can only imagine the look on it's face to recieve its last killing blow from an unseen foe but as I pulled my blade from its
back I saw its black blood on my blade and staggered backward, it was the first intelligent creature I had ever slain and I
wasn't sure how I felt about it.
I doubt my companions even noticed but for me it was a moment I can never forget. Time actually seemed to slow to a crawl as the dwarves went about their business, looting the corpses and continuing on the town gate. I watched the leaves as the fell ever so slowly to the ground and I remember the numb feeling that filled me from head to toe. I started following slowly and silently, wondering if what I did was right or not, even the gods didn't seem to hold any answers for me. I prayed as I walked but the inner silence I felt seemed to echo their desire that I find this answer for myself.
In front of me the dwarves began calling for the owner of the keep to open up, knocking on the stone and making such a ruckus they could not possibly be ignored. Soon, the great stone doors slid aside beckoning us on. We obliged, entering the mountain. It felt rather oppressive one such as I, accustomed to the open fields. But hours spent in an iron mine made the feeling not all together unfamiliar. The dwarves on the otherhand were quite obviously at home and any trepidation they may have felt was immediately lost at the yell of, "BEER!" Indeed there were several huge beer casks. The dwarves, having been denied their favorite drink for so long dispensed with the formality of mugs, placing their mouths over the spigots themselves and draining several pints in a matter of minutes. I myself partook in the revelry drinking from the tap. I must admit, there is a certain bite to dwarven beer that makes it unforgettable and I must also admit to a certain fondness for their brew.
As soon as all were thoroughly drenched we proceeded through the entrance to a wooden gate leading to the city proper. In front of said gate was a magnificent specimen of dwarven kind. "Tharak!" Durin called. Tharak Silverhelm, near as I could tell, ruler of Facias, was a greatful and gracious host. Thankful for the ore we had brought he gave each of us a gift. An unbreakable pickaxe, capable of digging through the hardest stone. While I had never dug a tunnel before and didn't know if I ever would come across the need to do so, I was honored at the gift and continued to marvel at the craftsmanship of the thing. After a hardy meal we were on our way, having deterred a large part of the orcs forces and provided Facia with the mean to squash the remainder of the attacking force.
It was then time for us to leave. Return trip was uneventful and quiet save for the constant prophesies of death and doom in a watery grave. I felt less an outsider on this return trip though certainly not one of the boys as of yet. Since I had helped them out on their trip I was rewarded with a rare peek at the great city of Silverbrand. All the dwarves came along, though mostly so they could get started on a tunnel the new tools they'd aquired made possible.
I was expecting a leasurly stroll and a pleasant tour when someone yelled out, "TROLL!" Indeed a huge, hideous troll was lumbering toward us. I expected my brave companions to dispatch the creature with little trouble when all of a sudden they turned on their heels and started running. This completely unnerved me for I had never seen them afraid of something. I myself began running for my life. Confused, I asked if they wouldn't fight it When two of the dwarves stopped and attacked the beast. As stunned as I was when I killed the orc, nothing will compare to how I felt when Surin, one of the dwarves that had made the village with me and an aquintance of some time earlier as well, stopped moving, a trolls claw emerging from his back. I threw a spell at the troll but was notable to even stun the beast. I did the only thing I could think of...I ran, and I ran and I ran. I've always been fleet of foot but the ground eating strides of the troll easily outpaced me. I ran north toward the castle of the grey rose and then east to where I remembered having seen a mine opening earlier. The troll slashed at my back but by the grace of the gods I was able to stay just one step ahead of him until I reached the ladder and dove head first into the inky blackness below.
I awoke some time later with a rather nasty bump on my head but still very much alive. Apparently the wooden entrance had been purposely made too small for such a large creature to descend. Looking around I found myself in a strange underground room. It was no mine. The closest I could compare it to is possibly a dungeon but much grander than any dungeon I'd ever heard of. I slowly crawled up to the surface, my heart racing, scared to death that the beast was just outside, hiding from me, waiting for me to stick my head out so that it might rip it off and suck my brains out through my neck. Somehow I was able to force myself to look though and to my amazement, all that met me was sunshine. Then I remembered my friend and thought to myself, the least I could do was to go get his belongings for him but on my way I ran into him. He had been miraculously restored to life by the great priest who resides at the cross north of town. Not only he but his brethren as well. All were quite surprised to see me still alive. I explained my escape into the small entrance and they seemed relieved. "Darn Troll, got me trapped in some kinda dungeon." I told them.
"That was no mine ye were in, tha's actually Silverbrand." Durin informed me. I was shocked but thinking back it only made sense. Of course! A dwarven stronghold would have to be underground, just like Facia, I just had never thought of it that way before. Durin grinned, "Come see." I was then led to the gates of the city. What I had previously taken to be merely huge stone slabs were in fact the gates to the city and upon sticking a key in a hole I had not previously noticed, the mythical dwarven miracle of ingenuity became, to me, quite the reality as the stone slabe slid aside to reveal the dwarven city of Silverbrand. I was given a tour and the wonderous majesty of the place is beyond the capabilities of my hand but leave it to be said that it was a great honor to see the halls of the king under the mountain. I left, having a renewed respect for our bearded brotheren. You know I once heard tale that long ago the halflings and the dwarves were related but that one brother chose the sun, orchards, vineyards and fields while the other brother chose gold, stone and metal in the depths of the earth. Probably simply a childs tale, made up to put me to sleep but still, walking through those halls of greatness, I couldn't help but feel...I don't know...at home.
I left that place a changed hobbit. While I had left on this trip caring only for myself, the profit of a good sale, the taste of my cakes, the quality of my smithing and the coins in my purse. I returned having seen brotherhood in arms, bravery and valor unequalled, self-sacrifice in the name of a nameless brother in need and what can be accomplished when a group of determined individuals put their combined might into a dream. I will never be a great warrior...it just isn't in me. I will never be recieved in brotherhood as dwarves so instinctually do to each other. And I may never go down in the annals of history as a great hero. But, in my heart was planted the seed of all those things and a desire to be more than I have been. As I reverently folded my chainmail and placed my weapons of war in my locked chest, in exchange for the finely sewn clothes and hat I have been accustomed to I couldn't help thinking of the weeks adventures.
I've helped slay an orc.
I've befriended the dwarves and seen their grand city.
Can I ever go back to a simple life of farming after that?
I place the masterly smithed pickaxe atop it all close the chest with a grin on my face.
Somehow...I think not.
Gibble Thibblebum
~Farmers Union~
And friend...of dwarves.
solid land again. I plucked an apple from a tree, glad to have some fresh fruit ofter the long trip. However, it didn't
take long for us to remember why we were there and start looking for the dwarven city.
Not a mile from the beach we came accross a river...with a bridge...and a Troll...asking for a toll. I almost laughed
remembering a similar little nursery rhyme my mother had read to me as a child however, this was no nursery rhyme. The
creature was HUGE and green and deadly as could be. "Troll wants toll." seemed to be the only thing it could say. We
tried to get it to leave on threats...didn't work. When asked how much of a toll it replied, "Many gold things." Durin
decided that it would be easier to pay the brute than to fight it off so he threw it some coins. "More." it responded, so
he began throwing the coins past the troll. The troll turned to follow the coins and pick them up and so was led away from
the bridge and into the woods where it stayed.
With that behind us we continued on the path that seemed it must lead to the dwarven citadel we searched for. Soon, we
found the stone gates to Facias, the dwarven city. And as we did, a cry was heard from one of the dwarves, "ORCS!" I
turned and sure enough, there they were again, large as life. I was stunned and staggered away from them as the dwarves
swarmed over the foes, anxious to spill the blood of these foes.
I don't know how it happened or when but, as I saw an orc strike one of the dwarves, from somewhere deep inside arose a
strong and abiding anger. With a cry my feet moved of their own accord. I grabed up a sword that was lying by a fallen orc
and charged the last remaining orc, already engaged in battle with a dwarf. My blade sunk deep into the creatures back. I
can only imagine the look on it's face to recieve its last killing blow from an unseen foe but as I pulled my blade from its
back I saw its black blood on my blade and staggered backward, it was the first intelligent creature I had ever slain and I
wasn't sure how I felt about it.
I doubt my companions even noticed but for me it was a moment I can never forget. Time actually seemed to slow to a crawl as the dwarves went about their business, looting the corpses and continuing on the town gate. I watched the leaves as the fell ever so slowly to the ground and I remember the numb feeling that filled me from head to toe. I started following slowly and silently, wondering if what I did was right or not, even the gods didn't seem to hold any answers for me. I prayed as I walked but the inner silence I felt seemed to echo their desire that I find this answer for myself.
In front of me the dwarves began calling for the owner of the keep to open up, knocking on the stone and making such a ruckus they could not possibly be ignored. Soon, the great stone doors slid aside beckoning us on. We obliged, entering the mountain. It felt rather oppressive one such as I, accustomed to the open fields. But hours spent in an iron mine made the feeling not all together unfamiliar. The dwarves on the otherhand were quite obviously at home and any trepidation they may have felt was immediately lost at the yell of, "BEER!" Indeed there were several huge beer casks. The dwarves, having been denied their favorite drink for so long dispensed with the formality of mugs, placing their mouths over the spigots themselves and draining several pints in a matter of minutes. I myself partook in the revelry drinking from the tap. I must admit, there is a certain bite to dwarven beer that makes it unforgettable and I must also admit to a certain fondness for their brew.
As soon as all were thoroughly drenched we proceeded through the entrance to a wooden gate leading to the city proper. In front of said gate was a magnificent specimen of dwarven kind. "Tharak!" Durin called. Tharak Silverhelm, near as I could tell, ruler of Facias, was a greatful and gracious host. Thankful for the ore we had brought he gave each of us a gift. An unbreakable pickaxe, capable of digging through the hardest stone. While I had never dug a tunnel before and didn't know if I ever would come across the need to do so, I was honored at the gift and continued to marvel at the craftsmanship of the thing. After a hardy meal we were on our way, having deterred a large part of the orcs forces and provided Facia with the mean to squash the remainder of the attacking force.
It was then time for us to leave. Return trip was uneventful and quiet save for the constant prophesies of death and doom in a watery grave. I felt less an outsider on this return trip though certainly not one of the boys as of yet. Since I had helped them out on their trip I was rewarded with a rare peek at the great city of Silverbrand. All the dwarves came along, though mostly so they could get started on a tunnel the new tools they'd aquired made possible.
I was expecting a leasurly stroll and a pleasant tour when someone yelled out, "TROLL!" Indeed a huge, hideous troll was lumbering toward us. I expected my brave companions to dispatch the creature with little trouble when all of a sudden they turned on their heels and started running. This completely unnerved me for I had never seen them afraid of something. I myself began running for my life. Confused, I asked if they wouldn't fight it When two of the dwarves stopped and attacked the beast. As stunned as I was when I killed the orc, nothing will compare to how I felt when Surin, one of the dwarves that had made the village with me and an aquintance of some time earlier as well, stopped moving, a trolls claw emerging from his back. I threw a spell at the troll but was notable to even stun the beast. I did the only thing I could think of...I ran, and I ran and I ran. I've always been fleet of foot but the ground eating strides of the troll easily outpaced me. I ran north toward the castle of the grey rose and then east to where I remembered having seen a mine opening earlier. The troll slashed at my back but by the grace of the gods I was able to stay just one step ahead of him until I reached the ladder and dove head first into the inky blackness below.
I awoke some time later with a rather nasty bump on my head but still very much alive. Apparently the wooden entrance had been purposely made too small for such a large creature to descend. Looking around I found myself in a strange underground room. It was no mine. The closest I could compare it to is possibly a dungeon but much grander than any dungeon I'd ever heard of. I slowly crawled up to the surface, my heart racing, scared to death that the beast was just outside, hiding from me, waiting for me to stick my head out so that it might rip it off and suck my brains out through my neck. Somehow I was able to force myself to look though and to my amazement, all that met me was sunshine. Then I remembered my friend and thought to myself, the least I could do was to go get his belongings for him but on my way I ran into him. He had been miraculously restored to life by the great priest who resides at the cross north of town. Not only he but his brethren as well. All were quite surprised to see me still alive. I explained my escape into the small entrance and they seemed relieved. "Darn Troll, got me trapped in some kinda dungeon." I told them.
"That was no mine ye were in, tha's actually Silverbrand." Durin informed me. I was shocked but thinking back it only made sense. Of course! A dwarven stronghold would have to be underground, just like Facia, I just had never thought of it that way before. Durin grinned, "Come see." I was then led to the gates of the city. What I had previously taken to be merely huge stone slabs were in fact the gates to the city and upon sticking a key in a hole I had not previously noticed, the mythical dwarven miracle of ingenuity became, to me, quite the reality as the stone slabe slid aside to reveal the dwarven city of Silverbrand. I was given a tour and the wonderous majesty of the place is beyond the capabilities of my hand but leave it to be said that it was a great honor to see the halls of the king under the mountain. I left, having a renewed respect for our bearded brotheren. You know I once heard tale that long ago the halflings and the dwarves were related but that one brother chose the sun, orchards, vineyards and fields while the other brother chose gold, stone and metal in the depths of the earth. Probably simply a childs tale, made up to put me to sleep but still, walking through those halls of greatness, I couldn't help but feel...I don't know...at home.
I left that place a changed hobbit. While I had left on this trip caring only for myself, the profit of a good sale, the taste of my cakes, the quality of my smithing and the coins in my purse. I returned having seen brotherhood in arms, bravery and valor unequalled, self-sacrifice in the name of a nameless brother in need and what can be accomplished when a group of determined individuals put their combined might into a dream. I will never be a great warrior...it just isn't in me. I will never be recieved in brotherhood as dwarves so instinctually do to each other. And I may never go down in the annals of history as a great hero. But, in my heart was planted the seed of all those things and a desire to be more than I have been. As I reverently folded my chainmail and placed my weapons of war in my locked chest, in exchange for the finely sewn clothes and hat I have been accustomed to I couldn't help thinking of the weeks adventures.
I've helped slay an orc.
I've befriended the dwarves and seen their grand city.
Can I ever go back to a simple life of farming after that?
I place the masterly smithed pickaxe atop it all close the chest with a grin on my face.
Somehow...I think not.
Gibble Thibblebum
~Farmers Union~
And friend...of dwarves.