Broken Banners

Charlie Oaks' letters to the fire

I am a child of luck and, as luck would have it, I live another day

I never figured out just how many days I was chained up down there. It had to be less than a month because I only had to bite my fingernails down to a manageable level once. I can say with absolute certainty that the acidic, throbbing rack of daylight was the most joyous pain I’ve ever felt.The only thing I’m concerned about is my dearest Amelia. She must still be down in the accursed kobold’s nest.She and I were the last to fall, right after I saw Martren swarming with the yappy little shits. She’s the only reason I intend to go back. Life is so hard without her. My new companions are more fortunate than the last. On more than one occasion I have witnessed Tarin wriggle out of a deathly precarious situation, and nearly everyone seems quite competent with a bow or its equivalent. Once we made it back to the hollow ‘competent’ is not the word I’d use for their navigation of . . . civil inclinations. They were like little white mice, scurrying around with a timid and confused demeanor. A perfect time to shine. We went to the Sitting Duck – and a few other establishments, trying to sell a small imbued crossbow. I’ve never seen steel pulled so quick when the task at hand was so simple. How did they walk from one side of town to the next without me? We’ve gotten into some type of potential barter with some Dwarf folk. Seems that my new friends had previously acquired something of a clan heirloom. One was snog-up, swimming in his teeth and ready to take it by force, but we were assured that in the morning he’d have a better grasp of himself, if not the situation. Those guys work for “Diverlord”, I think it was. Really, I guess my new friends do too. Gotta sleep now, the quill is doing its job. I bet if I read this a few times I’ll hardly have time to shut my eyes before sleep takes me.

It was touch and go for a bit – I was unsure if I could convince my group to go back. We stopped by the fort ruins on the way back in. I found a nifty ancient hand ax and some propaganda regarding the resident Dwarves’ switch to a Dark Dwarven deity. Good thing amateurs had been the only ones to pick through here. When we got down there it was more of the same. Kind of brutal in some parts. I especially hate the large toad mounts that the Kobolds use. Trying not to throw up while you are fending for your life is a unique – and infuriating distraction.
I think I forgot to mention the underdwelling creature that wanted help from us. I think it
matched my vague recollections of a tale that depicted something called a “chokerr”
Anyway, I think I may have been a little too ‘acute’ in some of our combats, the one with the kobold king especially. Being a Bard I should not be so good at resting foes with well-placed attacks from one’s blind sides. We took some heavy hits in that fight. Had Corofzone not blinded the king and given me the golden opportunity to slay him utterly Amelia and I may not have ever left that place… I nearly passed out having bled too long during the brutal exchange.
Speaking of which
Amelia and I are reunited!
The crude beasts were predictably rough with her – I had to re-tune her for ages before her exquisite voice was restored. I smashed the stand-in lute I had purchased in case the worst had happened. That damn lute meant nothing to me, sweetheart.
Now that Amelia and I are back in each others company we can continue our operations, fleecing drunken buffoons when the mood strikes us. Sure there was a good haul from clearing out the kobolds, but our trade is an art, an exotic dance – a marriage of beauty, guile, and deft strokes of both dexterity and cunning.
The show must go on ~



Um yeah,,,, Hero point for Charles; nuff said

Charlie Oaks' letters to the fire

I'm sorry, but we no longer support this web browser. Please upgrade your browser or install Chrome or Firefox to enjoy the full functionality of this site.