It was a cold morning when I finally arrived at the Wolves' encampment. Colder than some of our coldest winters in Albion, or so I was told.
Dionysus warned me of the weather conditions and I managed to acquire a beautifully woven tunic, called a jumper, which kept me nice and warm. I met up with the Harts representation and announced my presence.
Unfortunately for the Wolves, I was unable to play too much music as all my scrolls got completely soaked when I was pushed in the river. Some people still do not appreciate my fine skills. The lady concerned, I thought, was enjoying every minute of my 'making music'. Her husband, on the other hand, was not.
Still, the weather was cold and so was I, but this was only the beginning Not long after I got settled down there was an attack on the camp by some Trolls. The whole camp swarmed down on top of them and crushed them into small pieces. Blood and guts were everywhere. I walked slowly down the hill to where the Trolls were gathering. I though I would just watch, when out of the undergrowth came the biggest troll I ever saw. All of a sudden it launched at me. I dodged under the powerful blow and followed through with my Mandolin.
"Take that you fiend," I screamed, as it swayed in pain. Again it swung for me with its club. This time I rolled out of the way and into the undergrowth. I turned to face my enemy and saw 10 Wolves swarming like flies over the creature. When they stood back, unharmed, all I saw was the dead troll.
After they burnt the bodies in the ritual circle it was time for a spot of lunch. Nothing like a good fight to warm the blood and give you an appetite.
The Wolves then had a muster. The King spoke and there was some bitter unhappiness at the sound of his words. I think, though, that the King's words were final.
We went back with Benedict to his tent for a warm drink. Unfortunately, a demon turned up. He wanted all magical weapons as a tax. This really did not affect me as I possess none. From what I had picked up from the gossip around me, tax demons are controlled by the self-appointed king, Caneron.
It was amusing to see all the scurrying of people high-tailing it out of camp for the safety of the wood. I use the term 'safety' loosely, as there were an amount of nasties lurking in the woods.However, they were not as terrifying as a magick tax demon. I popped out to see what all the fuss was about, only to be confronted by the Demon Spawn. I froze as he considered me and, being confronted with his dagger-long nail at my throat, I thought it wise not to annoy him. I sang a song to cheer him up instead.
After some strange looks he turned to regard Benedict who wouldn't stand for any nonsense. He offered the Demon Spawn some cake. The Demon Spawn promptly turned it to mould, enraging Benedict. He told the Demon Spawn that he had had quite enough of his company and that he would be leaving now!
Much to my surprise the Demon Spawn fled, tail between his legs and all. As I turned I saw the magic weapon bearers high-tailing it back to the tent, soaked through to the bone and in an unpleasant mood.I did point out to them that it was their choice to get wet, and then I promptly left as I felt like some air.
The sun was falling out of the sky and the redness of the day was quickly leaving while most were busy getting ready for the merriment of the evening.
A small group of warriors gathered around ready to go out on a quest. They were short on men, but not by height so, after a brief audience with Benedict, I went along to keep their spirits high. I was commanded by him to keep alive and told that I was not, under any circumstances, to die. I hoped it would not be too difficult.
It was cold and dark as we left for the transport circle. Keeping to rear guard, I followed the group. The circle was about a five minute walk from camp at the bottom of the hill. There were two problems with the circle:Firstly it was situated just inside the forest, where anything could ambush us. Secondly, there is a lake not far into the forest, which has a beautiful waterfall in the summer when it's not frozen up. It sounds lovely but the lake floods and covers the circle in four-foot deep water as it has no natural barriers.
The atmosphere was dank, none spoke as we walk slowly and carefully. As we followed a small path we ascended a hill. The path was well used but looked extremely small, as if the local folk were not more than four foot tall, and this left me puzzling.
"None shall pass, go back the way you came," said a voice up in front.
A warrior within the group asked: "Who are you?"
"I am a tree guardian, protector of these forests and I say none shall pass," said the tree guardian.
Then she elegantly raised her hand towards us as if pointing us back the way we came. Without any further ado a flash flew out of her arm and hit one of our warriors who was at the front of the party. He was a big warrior and the blast of magic hit him full in the chest. He went down only to get up to stride into position. He carried a two handed bastard sword that he could wield to his will like it was a knife. He wore only a padded leather tunic and leather trousers. I thought this strange for a warrior. Normally they are far better protected. I thought that maybe magic was his protection. He called himself Thurg.
The group fell on top of her but two more Guardians appeared to protect her. They pushed our party back with surprising force. We withdrew slightly and I could feel the tension building within me as I held my rear guard firm and sure.
As I stopped and strained to listen to the low voices and harsh conversation up ahead, I took a moment to remember to breathe. I was almost cresting the hill we were climbing, the path was still thin and the low trees made it impossible for us to be more than one abreast. This was a comfort as when I strained my eyes down the track I could not see more then six foot.
I realised with shear amazement that I had been concentrating so much on watching the path below my feet that I did not notice there was a sheer drop the other side of me. There was only up or back the way we came.
The Guardians were very pleasant and extremely thick. After a few more brief words the group was hacking and slaying.It all happened quickly but I was not about to kill or take any part in killing a protector of a forest. It's hard work and they don't get paid you know! So I stayed to the back and made sure nothing crept behind us.
I must have done a good job as nothing did. I caught glimpses of the Guardians as they struggled to battle with our group. They were human-like and glowed slightly green. Three of our largest front warriors including Thurg were blocking and pushing the guardians back so that more of our group could get up to fight.
There were eight in our party and we proved more than a handful for these guardians. Thurg was battling but I noticed that every time he was hit he shone slightly white around the area of impact with no bleeding or penetration of his flesh.
Swords slashed left and right, in and out, around and swooping.
Lance was to Thrug's left, dressed in light chain mail with padded leather underneath. He was over 6ft tall and slim. His movements were as slick as a cat and was at home fighting under all conditions. He favoured two long swords slashing and blocking completely independently of each other.
To Thurg's right was Calan. He was shorter than both Lance and Thrug, dressed in padded leather and plate mail covering his body. Chain mail covered his arms and legs. He also had a long bow and quiver.
The three pushed forward slash after slash, blocking and parrying with the guardians. After the largest of the three fell, we continued.Slowly I walked on until the rest of the group came to a baby goblin in the middle of the path. As I approached my keen night vision saw a Troll hiding in the undergrowth.
"Incoming!" I bellowed as I struck the beast.
After a thousand more strikes or so the beast fell before me. I had help, but as it fell it made a final lunge to kill me. I stepped back and, at the last minute, I did a backward somersault, landing on my feet ready for the beast to rear up and strike again. Move it did not and I was triumphant.
After my victory, I stayed to the back and did not get involved until some ghouls came out to kill us. Not without style, but without the panache of the troll encounter, I dispatched a few. It appears that I am not too bad at killing, a thought that would not truly please my auntie, I'm sure.
After such a gripping adventure the rest of our stay was mild until the final battle. Without knowing it, I had helped. The quest I had joined went to search for some information into the whereabouts of a magical horn that would help all Trolls dispatch Humans, Elves, Fey and all other allies that I have inadvertently left out.
The Wolves decided that their only course of action was to hunt down the trolls and take full control of the horn.
So within an hour the whole camp was assembled down at the ritual circle, slowly transporting through to the trolls. The rest is history. If you would like to know more about that history, please see me at the next event and I will describe it in all its glory.