10th of Patchwall (Autumn) 579 CY
I stood, looked briefly at the rough group and yelled "goblins!" I turned, cudgel in hand, hoping that the silent band would understand and keep my back. As the first member of the little group of vermin crested the embankment I could see in my peripheral an arrow fly through the air and plunge into the chest of an unfortunate goblin. It looked as though the entire group of monsters with the exception of the leader and the strange hoofed creature, were coming over the rise. They all appeared to be quite surprised by the impromptu group I had stumbled upon. They foolishly attacked anyway.
A pale mage spewed forth bluish missiles at one of the creatures - killing it. The rest of the travelers drew weapons as the goblins advanced. A knight held his ground and dutifully beheaded another goblin while a white arrayed Pelorian was able to dispatch another with his mace. Plying feathered death at his rank targets, a sure footed elf flitted from one vantage point to another. I, for my part, charged with my holy club and writ destruction upon the fiends. It seemed that more goblins than I had known originally began to pour over the embankment. Nevertheless, my new associates and I were sending enough of the vermin to their abyssal home that those still alive began to hesitate. Others began to turn tail and run. Many more died. Eventually, a majority of the creatures lie expired around us while the three or four who escaped were fortunate to get away with some life left.
As we stood there viewing the slaughter, we looked at one another with some small amount of suspicion. I introduced myself: "Hail and well met," I said, "I am Aelfric of Hardby and I thank you." I proclaimed that I would be willing to provide my healing powers to them for their aid. It was obvious, however, that the Pelorian was quite able to deal with the wounds of his comrades as he was already performing these duties admirably with the power his lord of light granted.
I asked the Pelorian of the group's destination as I also was bound north. He informed me that the evil temple near Nulb, sacked many years ago, was what they sought and the village of Hommlet was a way-station on their expedition. I was delighted to learn of this as my objective was also Hommlet and the church of St. Cuthbert therein. They invited my to join them in their endeavor and I gladly
accepted as the Evil One was said to still have a hand in the current activities of the vile edifice.
So
we were on our way. This gave me the opportunity to size up my newly found
companions. The Pelorian was a gentle appearing man as is the proclivity of the
clergy of Pelor. He seemed a proud fellow as he took a great deal of time to
preen his raiment after the recent battle. He said his name was Sorin. The
priest seemed unusually attached to a cat, a common house cat. During our trip
to Hommlet he spent much time training the little feline. It seemed to me a
great deal of time was wasted on this endeavor, yet the animal appeared
amenable to the regimen. "To each man his own," goes the saying...
The mage appeared to prefer to keep to himself as he made no answer when I asked his name. Some might find this reaction rude, however; the teachings of St. Cuthbert tell us that those with closed lips hold the law dear. He appeared to be talented dweomercrafter, so I felt it best to hold my tongue at any rate. It is not uncommon to see those of Suloise descent evince of curmudgeonly disposition.
The elf seemed a pleasant enough sort. Unlike the Pelorian and most elves, for that matter, he seemed much less interested in his own personal appearance. Peculiarly, he approached me with hat doffed and a jig in his step, introducing himself as Elledan. He seemed to be free of the Olven accent. I deduced that he must have been brought up by human parents. I would place his common speak accent as being from one of the great cities of the Central Flanaess.
The Knight was named Branden and was part of the military arm of St. Cuthbert. His demeanor was easy-going and affable. I was certain that his charisma and presence formed the nucleus of the party.
So it was that I met some of the future members of the Moat House Men. We made our way north through the golden autumn twilight toward a land beset by an ineffable evil.
I stood, looked briefly at the rough group and yelled "goblins!" I turned, cudgel in hand, hoping that the silent band would understand and keep my back. As the first member of the little group of vermin crested the embankment I could see in my peripheral an arrow fly through the air and plunge into the chest of an unfortunate goblin. It looked as though the entire group of monsters with the exception of the leader and the strange hoofed creature, were coming over the rise. They all appeared to be quite surprised by the impromptu group I had stumbled upon. They foolishly attacked anyway.
A pale mage spewed forth bluish missiles at one of the creatures - killing it. The rest of the travelers drew weapons as the goblins advanced. A knight held his ground and dutifully beheaded another goblin while a white arrayed Pelorian was able to dispatch another with his mace. Plying feathered death at his rank targets, a sure footed elf flitted from one vantage point to another. I, for my part, charged with my holy club and writ destruction upon the fiends. It seemed that more goblins than I had known originally began to pour over the embankment. Nevertheless, my new associates and I were sending enough of the vermin to their abyssal home that those still alive began to hesitate. Others began to turn tail and run. Many more died. Eventually, a majority of the creatures lie expired around us while the three or four who escaped were fortunate to get away with some life left.
As we stood there viewing the slaughter, we looked at one another with some small amount of suspicion. I introduced myself: "Hail and well met," I said, "I am Aelfric of Hardby and I thank you." I proclaimed that I would be willing to provide my healing powers to them for their aid. It was obvious, however, that the Pelorian was quite able to deal with the wounds of his comrades as he was already performing these duties admirably with the power his lord of light granted.
I asked the Pelorian of the group's destination as I also was bound north. He informed me that the evil temple near Nulb, sacked many years ago, was what they sought and the village of Hommlet was a way-station on their expedition. I was delighted to learn of this as my objective was also Hommlet and the church of St. Cuthbert therein. They invited my to join them in their endeavor and I gladly
accepted as the Evil One was said to still have a hand in the current activities of the vile edifice.
So
we were on our way. This gave me the opportunity to size up my newly found
companions. The Pelorian was a gentle appearing man as is the proclivity of the
clergy of Pelor. He seemed a proud fellow as he took a great deal of time to
preen his raiment after the recent battle. He said his name was Sorin. The
priest seemed unusually attached to a cat, a common house cat. During our trip
to Hommlet he spent much time training the little feline. It seemed to me a
great deal of time was wasted on this endeavor, yet the animal appeared
amenable to the regimen. "To each man his own," goes the saying...The mage appeared to prefer to keep to himself as he made no answer when I asked his name. Some might find this reaction rude, however; the teachings of St. Cuthbert tell us that those with closed lips hold the law dear. He appeared to be talented dweomercrafter, so I felt it best to hold my tongue at any rate. It is not uncommon to see those of Suloise descent evince of curmudgeonly disposition.
The elf seemed a pleasant enough sort. Unlike the Pelorian and most elves, for that matter, he seemed much less interested in his own personal appearance. Peculiarly, he approached me with hat doffed and a jig in his step, introducing himself as Elledan. He seemed to be free of the Olven accent. I deduced that he must have been brought up by human parents. I would place his common speak accent as being from one of the great cities of the Central Flanaess.
The Knight was named Branden and was part of the military arm of St. Cuthbert. His demeanor was easy-going and affable. I was certain that his charisma and presence formed the nucleus of the party.
So it was that I met some of the future members of the Moat House Men. We made our way north through the golden autumn twilight toward a land beset by an ineffable evil.
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