Meet 13, Adv 1, 10/6/12

I have always loved Owlbears. As a monster - it is pretty stupid - I mean a bear - but with owl parts. But when you take a big assed bear and throw it at the group and make no pretense that it s a god damned monster and you better be either running of missile firing at it because the bastard is TOUGH. Plus, I use the ubiquitous "HROOO-HAAA" noise for the owlbear's cry (cribbed very much from the Goblins! comic) and in my mind, there are a terrible danger.

The group is still floundering a bit, but this wraps up the bandit piece for now. I need to guide them more on where to go and what to do next. I tried the sandbox - tons of stuff to do and go to idea but the party does not respond well to it. My bad, I tried it out. The only piece left for now (before a long rest/training time) is a short raid into a goblin cave nearby and get some info on the goblin water.

Adventure 2 (electric boogaloo) will have more rails and guide posts along the way to keep them in place and feel like they are getting something done.

Write up follows:

It was 12:15 on Plantmonth the 17^th and the group was trudging their way back through the forest westward to where they had originally crossed as well as to pick up Flimflam’s pony that had been left there. During the walk we talked about our charges (4 camp women and the 6 bandits that we had captured) and what our next course should be.

 

It was agreed upon that since we had momentum, we should direct it at the leader and 2^nd (Marganith and Betelmis the druid). We knew they were headed to Shakun to meet us and attempt to arrange a transfer of funds for the prisoners. We had learned they had horses and did some quick math. If they left shortly after our failed original attempt on the bandit camp, got to Shakun, stayed overnight, and left the next day – they would be back at the bandit camp around midday on the 18^th.

 

We opted to intercept them before they got back and use our overwhelming numbers and surprise to take them down. What we couldn’t do was achieve this while towing 6 tied up bandits and the 4 camp women with us. We would need to go someplace first.

 

The party decided to split up: Fergus and Chase would head to the Roaring Treant where they would rest the night and watch the comings and goings of the people there and try to get a bead on the bandit leaders first. The rest of the party would head to Timberton where they would bring the bandits to the local magistrate for incarceration, drop off the women at the Hospice, and then turn back around immediately. We agreed to meet up at the woodcutters cottage that we had stayed at some days ago assuming it was still not being used.

 

We crossed the ravine and split up, the majority of the party heading east-southeast through the trees, the line of roped together bandits taking up the rearmost position in the group. We were chatting and not paying much mind until we heard, “WHHRRROOO-HAAAA!” in the nearby distance. What the hell? We all looked at Flimflam who assured us that although it sounded like it, it was not a normal animal and we should move with haste. Now.

 

We picked up the pace and ran on as we noticed in the distance to the north shadows moving about. They parted to reveal not one, but two 9’ tall bristling brown feathered monstrous ursine apparitions. “Owlbears!”was the cry and we ran on faster. The owlbears swiftly kept pace and then began to overtake us. The bandits were yelling for help but we did not stop. Eventually they fell upon the bandits and killed 2 of them. The ropes had been split, one bandit was running free, two were tied together still, and the last was still tied to the 2 dead ones.

 

But the owlbears ran on again! Flimflam called out to Demeter and the forest squirmed around the ursines, slowing them both down as it entangled them and eventually stopping one. The 2^nd though was furious, made more so when Marcus and Fist’al sent a few arrows its way. It charged and we ran some more as the ursine tackled the two bound bandits and took them down.

 

The owlbears no longer seemingly following us the lone bandit then jogged to the left and tried to lose himself in the woods! Again arrows flew and he was hit hard and fell before more than 2 dozen paces. We bound him again and angry eventually made the road. We now had 4 terrified women with us, 1 very wounded bandit, Tempi and Enthir both barely alive, and the rest of us winded. We walked long on our dwindling supplies until we reached Timberton before the 9 PM curfew and gate closing.

 

We went to the magistrate and turned over the bandit and were then directed to the Hospice where we tended to some of our hurts and arranged some potions of rejuvenation for Tempi and Enthir. From there we went to the stablery, haggled for a bit on the price of a cart and horse, and then mounted up and road out of Timberton BACK towards the road and eventually the woodcutters cottage some 6 hours away.

 

Meanwhile Chase and Fergus arrived back at the road with no issue and then at the Roaring Treant by 2:30 PM. From there they procured sleeping arrangements at the Common Room and sat down for a good meal. Some walking about the grounds, visited the stabler and farrier, and took a good view of who was there rounded out the rest of the day. The two men took turns sitting outside and watching the road, hoping to catch sight of anyone who might be passing through and not stopping. About the only people of interest were a trio of travelers who came in about 11. The ate swiftly and two went to sleep in the Common Room while one was sitting up and reading.

 

Through conversation it was learned that his name was Glaris and he and his two friends were from Waterdale and looking for hireling work. Hoping to hook up with the Shakun Adventuring group they were dismayed to seem them not there. With little coin in their pouches they decided to head on to Timberton to get on a spring logging crew as it was something they all new well, and then eventually get back to the adventuring group in the fall and try again.

 

As for the other party members, there was a moment of terror on the road when they came up a wild boar but other than that they trundled along until arriving at the woodcutters hut at 3:30 in the morning where the elves took over watch and the rest of the party went to sleep.

 

Fergus and Chase awoke by 6, ate a fast meal of sausage and warm bread and were on the road, eventually finding the woodcutter’s cottage by 7:30 where the party all rejoined and we shared stories with what had occurred to date.

 

By 10:30 we had all rested well and a plan was devised. Chase and Fist’al would brace the 40’ wide road on opposite sides and well hidden. With arrows at the ready they would provide the initial attack which would be followed by a concentrated assault of Marcus and Enthir using Sleep spells, Flimflam and a his druidic powers , and finally Whosea, Tempi, and Fergus providing the needed melee assault should need arise.

 

Fist’al arranged a blind on the roof of the cottage, the thatch more than supportive enough for him. Meanwhile Chase used the cover of logs and vines to arrange a place for himself across the road. And then we waited. Other travelers did pass through now and again, some on horseback, but it wasn’t until sometime closer to 3 PM that we spied our probable targets.

 

Two men, riding swiftly from the west, clad in leather armor and showing some signs of long travel. Their descriptions matched what we had learned of Margarith and Betelmis and it was al some 30 paces or so that Chase fired at them, actually striking one of the riding men. He was pissed and Chase made believe that he was a bandit. The leader was chastising him for his stupidity as they rode closer.

 

Flimflam tried an entangle spell but they were too far from the actual side of the road. It alarmed them and then the two sleep spells went off – dropping the two men, their horses, and even the 45# very terrifying possum that as accompanying the druid. The group them went across and captured the two sleeping men. Gags and fingerlocks and binding ropes were the norm. The possum was slain. We took their gear, bags, belongings, and then marched them towards Timberton.

 

We arrived at 8:30 that evening, turned them over to the magistrate, got paid and some thanks, and then went off to the Flying Pegasus Inn to get some rest.

Meet 12, Adv 1, 9/22/12

Redemption.

The party had been taken down by a variety of circumstances that were within their control. Attitude, disprespect, uncontollability, and lastly shortsightedness. They were broken, demoralized, and needed to take control of the situation.

Most partys after awhile tend to think linearly - they see a problem and head towards it, solving the issues along the way. What they need to do is shake up the thinking - not talking about chaos - but just look OUTSIDE the problem and decide if there is another way to address it.

One of my friends, the eponimus Michael Curtis of Stonehell and DCC notoriety, had an on and off again relation to playing over the last 2 years since his life took on a growing ramp of writing and design. Even before that he had lowered his mantle of playing and took up the reins of running his own game for a year or so. So it was with tremendous surprise to me that he asked to roll up a character for the game this night. With 7 around the table playing already, an 8th might seem folly but I was happy to include him. Hence "Chase" the ranger was born (think Aragorn without the weight of history and backstory over his head).

And it was exactly what the party needed because the 3 remaining players not captured or dead at the table were circling the same situation and not having a solution in mind. Chase (and the paladin friend that came with him) took the floundering reins and thought of the problem outside the box.

We approached the bandit camp differently, assaulted it from a position of strength, and had a much easier time redeeming ourselves from the prior encounter with the bandits. No one wants their players to feel lost or ineffective - so whatever it takes, even if some tracks need to be laid down, get them thinking outside the linear progression and everyone will have a better time at the table.

Write up follows:

Flimflam, Marcus, and Fist’al trudged their way to the Roaring Treant Inn. The asked the proprietor for a space in the common room and something quick to eat. With weary steps they sat at a table, ate their stew, and talked about what had befallen them. Their companion’s fate was unknown and the three of them were unsure of what to do next. Return to Shakun? Storm the bandit encampment? Ransom? Were any of their 4 companions even alive? We do know that Ironboar had reported Device was dead and that some sort of rudimentary stabilization had been done for Tempi, but that was many hours ago? Enthir? He appeared to be killed? Ironboar? He too was at the bottom of the chasm. We just did not know.

 

It was then that we were approached by two men who had been sitting nearby. They introduced themselves as Chase and Fergus and were swords for hire. Currently they were waiting for their hairfoot friend, Bill, to show up with some map he was to purchase but seeing as he was not here the two men were willing to talk to the party and discuss their woes.

 

It seems they were both a king’s man and a knight from Gul and had already a disliking for bandits and banditry. Through some conversation we agreed to pool our talents together and that we would strike out for the bandit camp on the morning of tomorrow.

 

We awoke and by 8 AM on the 17^th were ready to head back to the bandit camp. We left the Roaring Treant, following the road for a few hours until after some discussion, left the road, heading east northeast. We traipsed through the densening forest for a while, watching carefully as we walked on. It was after some time walking that we did notice in the trees above us was a giant owl. Not a big owl, but a giant one! 9 ½ feet tall, 34’ wing span. And it was watching us.

 

Flimflam spoke to it in some strange tongue for a while and informed us it was “The Old One”. It was interested in where we were going and why we were here, but did not want us to harm any of the forest denizens. We agreed and it gave us a once over and then flew off. We let out a collective relieved sigh and moved on.

 

Eventually we did get to the chasm. In this area of the forest it was MUCH less deep as well as less wide. Chase informed us that it was an old water cut bed and if we kept going to the west, would come to an area where we could cross without issue. Taking the ranger’s advice we did so and eventually got to a place where we could cross without any problem. Once there, Chase and Fist’al ventured further on to check out the area while the party worked their way over. Finding nothing except a lack of fresh game trails as well as a lack of dead wood led them to believe that we were close to the bandit camp area.

 

All together once again we headed off to the east and kept a ready eye. After half a mile we came upon an area of the forest with punji stakes set in the ground. A black cord was run through them, a pair of brass bits strung along the cord to act as a chime should someone cross it. We cut a section of the cord and carefully wrapped it about the punji sticks as we crept through.

 

Getting closer we stopped some 200’ or less from the bandit camp and sent our sneakiest two up to spy. There were 5 or 6 that we could see. Two very large 4 man tents as well as a crudely build single story structure. There were 2 elevated platforms, one of which had an archer sitting in it. A central firepit was roasting some sort of meat and 3 of the bandits were hanging around it. A 5^th bandit was near the wooden structure and a 6^th bandit was walking south out of the camp in the direction of the ravine.

 

We set upon a plan and put ourselves in position to get the surprise on the bandits. The start was to be Marcus casting a sleep spell on the bandits but he was spotted before he could get into position. From where he was he snarled out the start of the spell while Fist’al and Chase shot the bandit in the elevated position out of the tree and then started peppering the ones around the fire. A moment later Marcus’ sleep spell went off and a few of the bandits dropped, one into the fire.

 

Whosea was sent forward and one of the bandits dodged into the building, slamming the door closed and barring it. A few arrows were shot back and forth while the group closed the gap. Fergus tried to assault the closed building but was having little luck in getting in. Meanwhile we suspected that other bandits from the south would be approaching so Marcus and Chase arranged themselves near the south part of the clearing, arrows drawn and ready.

 

Unknown to the group a side door opened and a bandit began shooting out of the building, trying to hit Chase and Marcus. This caused them to return fire while Fergus finished trying a grapple and rope the wall of the building and slapping the pony on the ass that had the other end of the rope tied to its saddlehorn. The wall ripped free and the melee followed right after wards.

 

Inside the building were a few bandits as well as a couple of camp girls…and Tempi! The half orc was freed, given a shield and a stolen sword and helped to free up the camp girls in the area. Meanwhile bandits were closing from the south and Marcus and Chase were forcing them to keep down with arrows. There was many volleys back and forth until one of them had closed enough to fire off a sleep spell of his own. Chase slept, Marcus didn’t.

 

Another one charged the party. There was an intense melee along the eastern end but Fergus and Whosea were able to put the cruel snarling bandit down. With the battle pretty much over we captured two of the bandits who gave up and dispensed healing to the others strewn about the battlefield, saving them from any further loss of blood and life. We then bound them up and asked questions of the two that had caved. We found Enthir in a tree above and brought him down and learned that the bandit leader and his 2^nd(druid) were on their way to Shakun to discuss ransom for Tempi and Enthir.

 

We salvaged what goods we could from the camp and dragged our trussed up captured towards the log bridge that Chase was watching over. He had discovered a thin metal box with some coinage in it, and a metallic plaque that had a painted symbol of a rainbow on it. From here we decided to head back to the crossing a few miles to the west where we first came over and then head on towards Shakun with our charges in tow.

Meet 11, Adv 1, 9/15/12

Reality vs. Red Herrings.

The party knew they were going to get someone come by today with a map for them and it would have been supplied by the bandits - its veracity was going to be suspect at best.

So I supplied them with two maps. Is one real? Both real? Both fake? Is this a con game where only the dealer wins or is there enough truth behind them both that they are both genuine in their own way?

Only way to find out is to actually GO THERE.

And that led us to the main resolution of the night - where half the party was killed or captured and the rest of us ran for the hills (or the trees as the case might be). It was not a TPK, but could have been. The approached an enemy position through the front door in day light with a force of 7-8 people making some noise and got hung up on crossing a dangerous bridge without rope when it mattered.

Write up follows:

We hung around the house for a while until sometime after 1 we had a knock at the door. A woman in her early 20’s was there and had an out of town/traveler look about her. Said her name was Martine Dodecius and wanted to know if she can come in and look around the Hall of Heroes. Turns out her father was a member of the 5 Sword Brothers and had died during an adventure many years ago. She had grown up with stories about her dad and wanted an opportunity to see where he had stayed.

It was after a bit that she revealed that she had some legacy items of his that she was going to sell to the town’s Consul (Zarik) that had been in the family since his death so long ago. Things like maps and some backup information. The group looked at one another and took it upon themselves to volunteer to escort Martine to Zarik’s and see about the selling of such maps. Maps that we suspected were part of the bandit’s attempt to lure us from more caravan guarding.

That left just Fist’al at home, and when the elven scout was going to go out there was another knock at the door – this time seeing another traveler looking for Flimflam and the adventuring group. Fist’al spent some time talking the man who had so many holes in his story about a map he won in a card game that he was not surprised to see a map come out. It was to some nebulous place north and west of Shakun to some cave. And someone had even written in 50,000,000 gold crowns as sitting there just waiting for an adventuring group to come and take it.

He dickered with the man on selling it, eventually offering 6 commons and getting the “map” for it. From then the traveler left to go to the Ogre Door Inn while Fist’al went on his way to Pelis the Rug Merchant to talk to him about Sern and ripping off the adventuring group. The conversation didn’t go the way Fist’al wanted it to and he was admonished to not rob from Sern even if he was price gouging the group – just shop somewhere else.

On the 15^th we left early after buying rations to go to the bandit camp. During the travel we decided NOT to stay at the Roaring Treant as we knew the bandits did stay there occasionally, and we should instead sleep out under the stars. After the entire day though we instead went past the Inn and found a little used Hunter’s hut. Fist’al forced the peasant’s lock open and we went in after taking care of the pony Flimflam had been riding.

We ate, lit a fire, and rested comfortably in some strangers home, eventually getting up the next day awake and very ready to find the bandit camp and bring them in and to justice. It was around 11:30 AM that Fist’al showed everyone the elm tree marker. The area was quiet and there were no obvious signs of the bandits here now. He then led us north through the trees – showing us the thin cuts in the bark and how to navigate the path in the trees.

It was some time later that we arrived at a chasm – maybe 20’ across, and 90’ down. It looked like the earth had split here some time ago. A number of logs had been knocked over the chasm, making a crude bridge for the group to cross. Ironboar went first, inching along until he arrived at the other side. Then Enthir was next, the mage tied to Device by a 30’ length of silken rope. The mage also made the trip without issue. It was when Device tried it that things went wrong.

First, the half-orc untied the rope from his waist so to not risk dropping Enthir. Then about 1/3 of the way across, the tree rolled and he slipped off. Scrambling he tried to grip the bark but it shredded and he fell…90’ down to land with a scream and the sound of breaking bones and then nothing. Tempi grew distraught and was screaming that he had to go down and save his brother. Taking a 50’ length of rope he tied it to the tree and slithered down to the end of the rope, still 40’ from the ravine bottom. Then he let go and attempt to climb down the side.

The hard packed dirt broken under his grip and he rolled, bounced, and also plummeted to the bottom with a crunch and the crack of busting bones. He was unmoving and the group was in shock. We were desperately trying to come up with a plan to get down there when Ironboar came back across the log, and went to go down the rope. His father cast “jump” on him and told him when he got to the bottom he had to jump from the bottom of the rope and it should help his landing. It did, the gnome barbarian was able to run to the two of them, able to use his own healing draught to stop Tempi from slipping any further but Device was too far gone.

When it came time to get out and the need to get Flimflam down to tend to the wounded Tempi, Ironboar used a nearby tree branch, propped up near the rope, climbed to the top and used the 2^nd of the 3 “jumps”he had to leap up and grab the rope. He climbed up, there was talk on how to get Flimflam down, and Ironboar went down again to get the rope from Device’s body. But at the bottom of the rope when he was climbing the wall he failed to get a good grip and dropped 20’ to land with a broken skull and internal bleeding.

It was then that we noticed that Enthir was very much missing from the other side, 3 party members dead and dying at the bottom of a ravine, and most of us were frozen with fear and indecision. Flimflam said that we needed the bandit’s help and withdrew his whistle, blowing it loudly.

A moment later 8 bandits came visible from the other side of the ravine, bows out and arrows pointing at us. Enthir was dropped at the feet of one of them, his shirt red, face pale, and throat cut. We were told to leave. We asked for help in getting to our companions at the bottom of the pit. We were told to leave again. And then they counted down from 5.

We turned and started walking away but after a few paces ducked behind trees. One of the bandits cursed and said, “I god damned KNEW it!”Then we heard chanting and the group ran. Luckily too because from where we were hiding a moment earlier the vines, trees, underbrush and everything started wrapping about and trying to tangle about one another, empowered by the bandit’s spell.

We fled as fast as we could; arrows were flying wildly through the trees at us. Fist’al was struck by an errant arrow and actually hit 0 hit points before Flimflam was able to draw it free and bring him back to positives. We stumbled to the road, mounted up on Flimflam’s pony, and ran away from the bandits, the ravine…and our companions – 4 of them either dead or dying. Ironboar, Tempi, Enthir, and Device. Eventually exhausted we arrived at the Roaring Treant Inn, weary and without direction – feeling lost and unsure of our next step.

Meet 10, Adv 1, 9/8/12

The group's big snafu this meeting was accosting a random walking dude gathering sticks in the forest. Convinced he was part of the bandit brigade they hit him and rooted through his belongings until realizing he really WASN'T part of the bad guy network.

What was funny was ANOTHER guy they had passed earlier was - the idea was right, but the target was very wrong.

Write up follows:

We spent the remainder of the 11th resting up around Timberton and getting ready for our return to Shakun tomorrow. The caravan master had been decent and fair to us the entire time, paying for our lodgings (Common Room space) and meals (usually simple peasant fare, but plenty of it and filling). On the morning of the 12th we helped get the wagons and horses at the ready, noted that at least one of the wagons was loaded with hardwoods to import back to Shakun, and trudged off just before 10 AM.

It was a rainy day and the road was a mess of mud and wagon ruts. We walked in the mess, our baladranas and cloaks pulled tight to keep off the worst of the soaking, but our boots, shoes, leggings, and other clothes swiftly became water logged and muddied. The horses were forced through the worse spots, water standing in puddles up to 8 inches deep in some places. By mid-day we were tired but the caravan master informed us that it would cold trail rations as we were going to be hard pressed to reach the Inn of the Roaring Treant by nightfall as it was. Within 20 minutes the party was back at it, walking the caravan of 3 wagons further along the road.

Traffic had been very light given the muddy road, rain, and general distance between Shakun and Timberton (2 days by caravan). Plus we had been passed on the way here by a random travelling trapper and didn’t trust the situation then. Ironboar had been feeling that we were being watched but had no definitive information to give us. We fanned out, encircling the caravan and placing our party members strategically all over the place. Fist’al opted to go into the forest some dozen paces or so from the road and shadow the group that way, hoping to spot the bandit group if there was one, before they saw us.

So when we saw some traveler coming down the road towards us roughly 20 minutes later we were on edge. He was dressed a woodcutter, heavy grey homespun clothing on his body, a large bundle of sticks and branches bundled up on his shoulder. As we grew closer we noticed that for all his being outside and far from any town/inn, he was relatively clean. We asked him what was going on, said he was going on to Timberton and was a good 6 hours hard walk from it. Ironboar didn’t wait; he jumped and tackled the guy.

We rooted through his stuff while he kicked and cursed at us. His sticks were sticks: Oak and walnut. He had no obvious weapons on him and we realized that we once again, made a mistake and accosted a relatively innocent personage. We fixed him up, apologized, and Marcus gave him a gold crown for his trouble and sent him on his way.

Meanwhile Fist’al, who was hiding in the forest, heard a conversation coming from people ABOVE him. There was apparently an archer’s blind in the tree line above and the bandits up there were talking about how hitting this group was not a good idea. We also learned that the trapper from the earlier trip WAS working with the bandits (the woolgatherer now was not). He listened in and stayed hidden as they talked about getting the group to stop escorting the caravans. They were going to get a map, treasure map, from one of the bandit’s brothers and meet up with the group in Shakun, sell them the map, and that would keep them off guard duty for a while, making it easier for the bandits to make their thefts possible.

They climbed down and went back to their camp, wending their way through the trees and following what Fist’al was able to deduce was a clever series of cuts on the trunks that guided the traveler onward. After a score of yards he turned back around and returned to the road, marked the entrance to this part of the forest as a specific looking elm tree, and ran down the road and rain to catch up with the group. He informed us of what he had learned and we took his words carefully to heart as we discussed the matter the rest of the trip to the Inn, during dinner, and again the next day as we returned to Shakun.

We arrived at the end of the day on the 13th, drier but tired from our trek. The stable master was pleased with our job and the caravan master concurred. Our due per person was 12 nobles each but for our efforts we were instead given 15. Coins in hand we thanks the stable master who informed up that another caravan would be leaving on the 21st (8 days) and if we wanted, we could have first spot as guards again. We thanked him and told him that we’d let him know a few days as we wanted to take care of some home issues first.

From there we did a little shopping, wanting to stock our Hall with foodstuffs. We went first to Sern’s General store and trading post but were turned off by the high prices and lack of respect (over 2 crowns a flask of oil! – Marcus was horrified). From there we went instead to the south end of town and paid a visit to the greengrocer. We paid for a number of bags of onions, potatoes, cabbage, and beans and then went on to the butcher and smokehouse. Once here we got a great deal on “assorted pork meats” – not bacon or chops, just assorted pig meat. Very salty as well. Delicious!

While here we asked for the most expensive meat available and learned that it was swan. And being that we were adventurers, if in our travels we should come across any swans, he would gladly buy them from us for 2 crowns each. We paused – this was 4 times the going rate for bringing in the bandits (at 5 nobles a head). What was the catch? Swan’s liked standing water and there wasn’t much around here, what there was was supposedly in the Green Grass Hills to the south and west of Shakun. This was the area that Mahr’s Tower was in, and as we were told, was also somewhat known to be dangerous as crawling with goblins.

Finally we went to Ungoth’s Distillery where we purchased a half cask of 110 proof whiskey (20 pints). We did manage to get a better price but entertaining the wildly inebriated Ungoth with elven singing, as well as gnome tossing between the two half orc brothers. There was a moment when we wanted to knock 2 crowns off the cost of the cask if at the space of 10 feet, one of the elves would shoot a potato off the other elf’s head with a bow and arrow – but the party was not nearly that drunk yet.

We then ended the night back at home, ate and drank, and discussed possible party names – settling on Swords of Shakun. Hooray – we exist! During the night Fist’al went to try and break into Sern’s Store to steal the oil but was daunted by what lights were in the area, then what witnesses might be about, and finally after he managed to get the northern door open – by the 2 (that he could see) guard dogs within.

Closing the door and locking it he turned around at the sound of footsteps closing and came face to face with Baron Ceril Taugis. Very fast talking had him out of the situation and then joining the nobleman at the Ogre Door Inn for some halfway decent ale and some song and story. After the Baron had left, Fist’al returned to the hall and rested.

The next day we knew we were going to have a bandit show up and try to sell us a map (real or not, didn’t matter). So we got our errands done early. Flimflam spoke with the magistrate and we learned that some of the bandits from Mahr’s Tower were given whipping and then indentured to the local Homesteads for a few months. As for Brandone, he was buried in the family plot. Falag and Thagorek were unable to stand trial as just being near them resulted in the prosecutors and guards to grow fatigued. They are now each in the lower sub-basement in Castle Canastal.

Fist’al went to the apothecist to find some sort of powder to add to a dog’s food to get it sleepy – but the cost was very high so he left. Device went to the Temple Grounds with Tempi to do some good will and works. And Enthir was going to go to Tanner’s Way and try to lift the spirits of the vagrants living there. Being as it was most likely not a safe place for the middle aged elf to wander about alone, Ironboar was going to keep him company.

As for Ironboar-isms, we had one. On talking about the assault and capture of the bandits when we did finally go after them, and knowing that we should be taking them alive, Ironboar said with enthusiasm, “Hopefully they won’t surrender” who giving his claymore a hefty shake.

Add on - Final Thirty

During the game I had made numerous references to the "final 30", the last 30 citizens of Shakun that hte goblin's had killed during their occupation - slain during the goblin's rout and attempt to flee from King Argos' forces.

Here is their story:

The Final Thirty

“I’m telling you that if those green skinned bags of horse shit make it out of here they’ll just be back within a week.” Kralt Broman hunched his shoulders, slapping his thigh with the wide part of his palm in an effort to drive his point home.

 

The air was thick with smoke and ash, cloying and heavy in the early afternoon heat. The whistling rain of arrows filled the grey sky as scores of elven archers let fly their cloth yard shafts over the reinforced walls of Shakun. Their horns blew clear and sweet, in direct opposition to the brassine cacophony that made up the goblin trumpeters.

 

For five days the liberating army from Duke Argos, composed of an eclectic mix of elven and human warriors of all types battered their way closer and closer to the long subjugated city of Shakun. The goblins were bereft of the military genius of the now dead demonic commander, The Leech, but his subalterns were still capable of slowing the advances and forcing each yard of ground yielded to cost the approaching army in both blood and lives.

 

Today Duke Argos’ forces finally achieved a close enough holding to allow them harry the wall defenders themselves.  Elven archers hit the goblins early after sunrise, dropping most of the sentries within minutes before turning their attention to the merlons and crenels along the eastern battlements. Twice the goblins opened the gates and attempted to rush the archers but were repelled the first time by thundering knights astride barded destriers; and shattered the second time when they were hit by the addition of leather armored spearmen along their flank.

 

The goblins that escaped the field returned scarred and demoralized. The stink of fear was wroth and angry, and it swept across the barracks and streets until it was obvious the greenskins were going to pull out of Shakun for the first time in over a decade.

 

But they were not just going to leave.

 

They set fire to the temple grounds, dumping the oil stores upon the altars and shrines with fearful abandon. The flames grew and spread, filling the sky with plumes of ash and embers. Then they dragged burning sheaves of reed beds along Fletcher’s Road, and Town Square, setting anything they could ablaze. This cloaked their movements from the assaulting army and gave the greenskins some time to regroup.

 

There was a continuous reverberous thrumming noise from the reinforced timbers of the closed and barred Northgate. The forces of Duke Argos were plying battering rams to the thick oaken portal, attempting to breach the gate and bring their fight directly into the city and upon the goblins’ backs.

 

As for the citizenry of Shakun, to the greenskins there was as usual no concern. The people who still lived under the goblin yoke were nothing to them. A broken herd long gelded. Slaves who had for years been as worrisome to them as fungus. To the goblins they were a non-entity and if any number of them were to be hurt, burned, or killed in the process, it did not matter.

 

To the people of Shakun, their back was now against the proverbial wall. And it was on fire.

 

“It’s no secret they’re massing up near the Tannery,” said Mertok Trader.

 

“Why in Zeus’ boil ridden backside am I not surprised?” Kralt spat. “Fucking place is cursed.”

 

A woman of middling years placed her hand on Kralt’s forearm and squeezed, the corner of her mouth turning down. “Enough with that,” she hissed.

 

He stared at her for a moment, but uttered no apology. There were over fifty of them gathered in the basement of Castle Canastal; the collapsed ruin along the northern wall. Old ash and soot marred most of the visible stonework; the Leech had long ago scoured the interior of Castle Canastal with spell and fire. The citizenry had gathered here at the request of Ceril Taugis, one of the last distantly related members of Shakun’s long slaughtered nobility.

 

Ceril gave Kralt a nod, his long knotty hair heavy and unwashed. “People, Kralt’s right,” he said grimly. “The greenskin can be scattered from here, but they will regroup and smash the forces of Argos in a week’s time.”

 

A voice from the crowd coughed and spat. “Then let’s just do what we’ve come to do and get it done.”

 

Ceril gripped his bicep with his left hand. “I’m not asking for miracles, and no one need feel they have to help.” He swallowed noisily. “But if we can slow their escape by even a few minutes, bottle them within the walls of Shakun, Argos’ forces will smash them.”

 

“Like rotten fruit.” Someone chuckled grimly, the laugh echoed here and there.

 

For a few heartbeats there was only the sound of breathing and shuffling feet before Kralt answered, “Then let’s do it.” He grabbed a spear from the wall and held it aloft. “For Shakun.”

 

Ceril Taugis nodded, lifting his own spear. “For Shakun.”

 

“For Shakun.” “For Shakun.” “For Shakun.”

 

Like a rippling wave longtime beaten men and women felt steel in their spine and added their voice to the pledge. Spears went up and faces were made hard and stern.

 

Ceril waited a moment longer, his eyes finding each pair in the crowd. With a toothy grimace he turned and marched up the broken stairs to the smoke filled street level above, the resolute march of ready men and women behind him.

 

The whistling crack of elven arrows still punctuated the ashen sky, but there were fewer cries of pain filled goblins heard. The ground shook as the besieging forces battered the weakening timbers of North Gate. The solid echoes let them know it was still not giving way. Taugis tightened his grip on his spear shaft and led his followers across the mud choked streets.

 

Back against the hard wood wall. Looking left and right. Nothing visible beyond a dozen paces. Voices strange and warbling in the gloom. A touch to his elbow. Kralt lifted his eyes and pointed his chin left. Ceril nodded in understanding and the group moved.

 

There was a gap between two leaning homes, barely three feet wide. It was choked with ivy and brambles, broken wooden trash barrels and moldering refuse. They moved on to the corner and glanced south. The air was clearer here, the fires much further away. A few larger homes were on both sides of the street and in the distance were the barricades and stone fortifications of Westgate.

 

A few goblins were loitering in the street, bundling up bags of loot and plunder on low carts and travois poles. More were closer to the gate, carefully watching through the closed portal to verify there was still an avenue of escape for the greenskins. Swords and spears were visible, shields as well. A few of the snaggle-toothed goblins even had crossbows nearby but none at the ready.

 

Ceril turned back. “Twelve between here and the gate. Fifteen at the gate I can see. Most likely another ten we can’t.” His men and women pressed their lips together and renewed their grips on their weapons. “Last chance,” he offered. “You don’t have to do this.”

 

After a dozen slow heartbeats the woman to Kralt’s left pulled her shirt sleeve over her elbow and took a closer look at her spear point. Grunting in satisfaction she answered, “Let’s do it.” Her sentiment was picked up by the rest of the crowd.

 

Taugis smiled, turning back he took three deep breaths, and slunk around the corner with a throaty growl, spear point leading the way. He moved faster, worn soles of his boots slamming into the mud. His eyes fixed on the back of the nearest goblin. Six paces, three, one.

 

Contact.

 

The spear point punched through the goblin’s back, forced through its lung, burst out the front of its chest. Taugis’ weight drove the creature forward on rubbery legs. It stumbled and fell, arms weakly slowing its fall as it struck the ground with a squelching thud. Something snapped under the goblin and Taugis stomped his foot on the creature’s back as he tore his ragged spear end out of the ebon stained rent in its body.

 

He looked up. Already the citizens of Shakun were streaming past. Falling on the goblins closest in groups of three and four while others ran further to engage the next ones.

 

Spanir had his arms wrapped around one of the goblin’s heads, lifting the villain up and spinning his wildly about in an effort to break its neck. Lynaria traded blows with a sword wielding goblin, her wild red hair flailing chaotically as she thrust her spear forward repeatedly, driving the goblin back. Even when it snarled and clove its blade into her right side, she folded left and swept the spear shaft sideways, knocking its feet out from under it. Unterik landed on the prone greenskin with his heavy feet and set his own spear into the goblin’s throat.

 

Ceril shoved and pushed his way forward, using the momentum of the furious crowd to bring him to the forefront of the battle line. From behind the barricade the goblins at Westgate finally noticed the wave of swelling humanity charging them. A crossbow fired, ripping into Yanneli’s chest and dropping the mother of two.

 

“Back! Back Slaves!” The goblin lieutenant called, his voice sounding like broken glass falling down a metal slide. He took up his horn and brought the brass instrument to his lips.

 

“Fuck no!” Fanis Broman, Kralt’s eldest son, arced his body back and snapped forward, hurling his spear across the battlefield. It struck the trumpet’s bell dead on, driving the other end through the lieutenant’s open mouth, busting a handful of his pointed teeth, and sending him to fall back against his soldiers.

 

Spears slammed out. Swords rose and fell. Shields flashed and bent. The battle line hit the barricade and flowed over it. Goblins on the other side made to run but had nowhere to go as Westgate was still closed. Cries and yells turned into screams and whimpers as Taugis and his people took their fury and hatred out on the closest goblins they could find.

 

“My lord!” Ceril turned about, his body flush with battle lust, his limbs quivering.

 

“What is it?!” he asked, his eyes taking in the battlefield quickly. The wood and stone barricade had been dumped over, goblin bodies were everywhere. None of them were moving. In addition at least seven…no eight of his own citizens were dead in the street. Lynaria had been wounded worse than it appeared. Salis had his guts laid open. Mertok his head stove in. Opori was actually missing his left arm.

 

“My lord!” He focused, taking in Kralt’s large and steadying form. “My lord, Taugis. A couple of the greenskins were seen running east. Past Exotic Transportation. They’re going to get the main bulk.”

 

Taugis looked at his citizens. Others had come out of their homes, adding their weight to the others who had joined him at Castle Canastal earlier. Their numbers were now closer to eighty and they looked at him with grim determination.

 

“You there,” he called, motioning to a group of four men and women nearest the broken stablery doors of Exotic Transportation, “I want you on the roof as look out. Tell us when the goblins come.” He paused, ears straining to hear something in the distance. “And tell us when Northgate finally falls.”

 

“I need this barricade fixed and fixed now.” He slapped the tumbled stonework abutting from the closest manor house. “It doesn’t need to be fancy, just standing up and functional.” Over a dozen citizens jumped at his request, shoving rocks and braces forward and piling them quickly on top of one another.

 

He bent down and took one of the goblin’s shields, slipping his hand through the rough handle and hefting its weight with a grunt. “For those of you without weapons, take what you can from the greenskins. Swords, hammers, shields, knives. I don’t care if you have to use cobblestones and rubble; if you’re standing here I want you armed. If not, then get yourself hidden.”

 

“What about the bodies?”

 

Ceril frowned. “Stick them once, make sure they’re dead, and then forget about them for now.”

 

His people worked fast and with determined efficiency. Within scant moments they had done as requested and most of them were now situated behind the low wall of the barricade. The crackle of flames echoed through the wide streets as the unchecked fires ate their way along the thatched roofs of Shakun’s northern avenues.

 

In the distance something groaned. And then a moment of silence rang out.

 

“My lord!” one of the lookouts called. “The gate! The gate! Northgate is breached!”

 

Ceril licked his upper lip. “The greenskins? Do they hold? Are they coming?”

 

“They are holding now, my lord. But I can see many of them running southward towards Tanner’s Way!”

 

“What now?” Kralt asked, his jerkin splattered with black goblin blood.

 

Taugis’ brows rose and fell. “We wait. We hold.” He raised his voice. “Do you hear me? We hold!”

 

A scattered reply of “ayes” answered him.

 

“This spot. Right here. The goblins must NOT be allowed to pass through that gate,” his finger stabbed out behind him to the stoic portals of Westgate.

 

More grunts and cheers rung out this time.

 

“If they get past us…if they get out…they WILL return. And when they do, it will not just be to occupy Shakun anymore. But to destroy it. Destroy us, our families, our children!”

 

“No!” “By Hades they shall not!” “Never!”

 

“So what are we going to do?!”

 

“Hold this ground!”

 

“My lord!” the lookouts called. “The goblins! The goblins come!”

 

The chanting cries of the greenskins sounded out; shard and pointed, grating on the ears and felt under the scalp. The wet slap of their feet as they ran away from Argos’ army resounded over the “thwpp”-ing sound of raining arrows. From down the road in the direction of Town Square they came like a roiling carpet.

 

“Steady!” Ceril called out. He brandished his spear upward, point stabbing the sky. To his left and right others followed suit, holding the spears, swords, and hammers aloft.

 

The goblins ran hurriedly, stolen trinkets and bits of treasure slung across their backs or gripped in their talonned grasp. They flowed into Westgate Road, bottlenecking as they pushed and shoved their way onward towards Taugis, his people, and the gate out.

 

“Hold!” He called again. The front rank of his citizens were down on one knee, the butt end of their spears braced against the torn up roadbed around the gate, pointed end held at chest height. Behind them stood others with swords and spears held tight against each other, set to stop the greenskin charge. A few stood behind them, backs against the gate itself, feet balanced on piles of brick and stone. Five of the goblin crossbows that they had taken still worked, quarrels loaded and hands caressing the trigger stocks.

 

The goblins in the front ranks slowed briefly as they beheld the defending forces blocking the gate. However they were borne forward as those behind continued onward, fearful of the invading army of men and elves. “What in blazes?!” one of them cried, his shredded voice raising in disbelief at the show of resistance arraigned against them.

 

One of the crossbowmen fired. The sharpened bolt tore across the intervening space, driving deeply into the surprised greenskin. It clutched its belly with shock before screaming loudly and falling to its knees. Another bolt was shot, puncturing a goblin’s shoulder. Another flew, striking one in the knee. One was struck in the chest. A last hit in the throat.

 

A horn cried out from across the town, followed by a rising roar of warriors. The noise frightened the goblins more and they pushed harder towards Westgate, trampling those in the front.

 

“What’s the problem?!” one of the larger ones called out, pointing ahead to Ceril and the rest of Shakun’s citizens. “That?! That is what’s stopping you?!” It grabbed one of the shaking greenskins by the neck and whirled it around. “They’re sheep! Sheep!” It’s hand swung, knuckles cracked against cheek and lips. Tossing the cowering goblin to the ground it pulled its own sword free. “To the gates! NOW! We will NOT be stopped by sh-URGGGH!”

 

Two crossbow bolts flashed out, one ripping the large goblin’s chin open before tearing into his bicep, the second hit it along the left its chest and knocking it off its wide flapping feet.

 

No one moved for a heartbeat.

 

And then another.

 

From the rear ranks of the goblin horde came a fear filled wail, their glassine voices screaming, “Ahhh! Move! Ye gods, no!” followed by the victorious battle cries of Duke Argos’ forces.

 

Taugis gaped as the goblins surged towards them, eyes wide with terror. “Men and women of Shakun!” he roared out, his voice in danger of being overrun by the broken mass of greenskin cries coming at them. “We will hold this ground!” He felt the quivering of his own limbs as he locked eyes with the closest goblin a scant brace of strides away.

 

“HOLD!”

 

The lead goblins hit the spear wall like an oxen. Their screams were shrill and terrible. Shafts bent and in some places broke. Blood burst in an arcing spray. The second rank thrust forward and pulled back. Some of the greenskins were dragged into the barricade before dislodging from the points. Fatirik was struggling with a goblin, his broken spear shaft clubbing the menace alongside its shoulder. The goblin gripped him by the throat and pulled, tearing his neck open.

 

More crossbow bolts filled the air as the Shakun defenders fired into the living wall of goblin flesh. Kralt swung a length of metal piping like a scythe, smashing the closest goblin’s outstretched limb, shattering its forearm. The stone barricade held briefly but began to crumble as the growing press of goblins on one side forced the bricks to slide away.

 

The first rank of defenders had fallen back, driven away from the terrified assault of goblins striving to make the gate. The second rank hacked and hewed, swords threshing the closest goblins like wheat. Someone yelled from the crowd as their guts were laid open, the stink of blood and gore blossoming over the battlefield.

 

Ceril struggled to keep his footing, the muddy cobbles growing slick with blood and offal. A short goblin snarled in his face, pulling his shield arm down as it tried to rip his hair out. Feeling the pain in his elbow swell he twisted his spear around. With a curse, he plunged it down. The shaft stabbed deep into the “V” of the goblin’s collarbone. His shield arm free again he smashed the greenskin in the face with the metal bossing on the shield and pulled his spear out. “HOLD!!” he roared again, his fighters taking his call and returning it.

 

The citizens of Shakun could see the pennants and flags of Argos’ army through the smog of smoke and battle haze. They squared their shoulders and drew back closer to Westgate, filling the holes in the defensive lines as their friends, brothers, and sisters fell about them.

 

The goblins redoubled their efforts. Talons tore and teeth gnashed. Swords cut. Spears thrust. Gustavo the miller had his hammer snatched from his weakened grip, the greenskin that took it smashed him across the jaw sending teeth flying. Two goblins had tackled Beld to the ground while a third perched upon his chest, slamming a broken chunk of cobble repeatedly against his head.

 

The citizens of Shakun gave even more ground, leaving their dead and wounded to be trampled under the now frantic goblins before them. Their back was on the gate, the enemy was all about them. The greenskin’s flesh had the combined reek of overripe bananas and soiled hose; cloying and sickening to the remaining men and women still standing.

 

A goblin warrior went down with a quarrel in his eye.

 

A blond woman fell backwards, staring blindly at her severed wrist.

 

Two greenskins grabbed at Ilian and his crossbow, dragging him into the melee.

 

Rohar’s spear ripped a goblin’s inner thigh open, the arterial blood fountaining high.

 

With a final surge, the goblins hit the dwindling knot of Shakun fighters. Taugis felt himself shoved to the left, his feet tangling with the other warriors. He tried to hold his ground but lost sight of Kralt who was on his right, seeing only green tinged goblin flesh. His spear long gone, he used his belt knife with grim purpose, wrapping his arm around the goblin’s face and slicing its neck wide open.

 

Another took its place, fingers scrabbling on the wooden portal, trying to lift the bracing pole free. Ceril hit it with his shoulder, blade flashing against its forearm. It hissed and stepped back. Just in time for Kralt to brain the greenskin with his metal pipe.

 

“HOLD!!” came the cry once more, a bastion yell against the tide of darkness. For a brief moment the Shakun line was renewed with Kralt Broman and Ceril Taugis at its center.

 

And then it ended. Ceril was hit from three different foes: on his chest, his left leg, and the side of his head. He felt his ribs crack from a goblin’s tackle. His breath whistled out of his lungs as vision greyed. As he fell to the side he watched as Kralt Broman was stabbed in the stomach by a goblin spear. He cried out, clutching the shaft with wide eyed horror. Another lanced out, piercing his side. He watched as his friend and supporter fell over before the nearest goblins actually picked up flung him away from the door like garbage.

 

It was an agony to even breath and he heard nothing but the roar of his blood pulsing through his veins. His vision had shrunk down to a tunnel of light. He felt himself fading.

 

But before he passed out, before he fell unconscious, he did hear the cheering roar of the Argos army as they finally reached Westgate and hold the mighty portal closed.

 

Closed to the goblins.

 

Offering them no escape.

 

Ending the long enslavement of Shakun.

 

With a smile on his lips, Ceril Taugis took a shallow breath and let it out, whispering into the blood soaked mud he was lying in simply the word, “Hold.”

Add on-Shakun - Tanner's Way

Going back about 30 years ago now, the first official town I had ever laid out was Shakun. It was crude, simplistic, and missing most of the actual buildings that people lived in - a layout of the major streets and the shops there. The people were either lifted wholesale from other places I had read about or my first awkward attempts at populating a town.

 

As time went on I grew more refined and was able to further flesh out the broad strokes of Shakun. This place holds a special place to me as I have had countless adventuring groups either "start" from here or make it their home after the fact.

 

However with my current group I have not been describing the city as well as I should have, playing it in my mind and glossing it over to the people around the table (plus it is VERY hard to town adventure properly with 7 players!). In an effort to rectify this, I have been penning a few short essays about prominent places in Shakun and forwarding it to the group.

 

Here is the 6th one:

Tannery – Tanner’s Way

Shakun has always been an agricultural town, with a strong secondary foundation of livestock. With denser stands of trees to the south and east, the land here has always been good for grazing and some of the earliest settlers had fairly large herds of sheep, goats, and even some cows.

Although various industries did grow from the various livestock available, it was the tanning that had the most growth. Since the leather industry is typically a filthy and smelly process it was placed far enough outside the heart of Shakun’s town center that the smell of rotting flesh and tanning wouldn’t upset too many of the citizens.

As Shakun grew and eventually the outer wall was added, the smell of the tanning industry grew fairly rank to the citizens. The Tannery’s configuration was changed with all the open doors and window now facing the south east along what had originally been named “Wall Road” but was quickly changed to “Tanner’s Way” by the populace.

The Tannery itself is a large warehouse looking building, close to 25’ tall, and filling in an area 100’ wide by 40’ deep. A large set of double doors provides entrance. At this time the Tannery is not operating and given the recent history of the building, there is little interest in refitting and reopening the place for use in the near future.

Once inside the main door the visitor will notice the entire ground floor is open. Most of the place has been picked over by daring vagrants over the years so there is little remaining. A few drying racks in very poor condition, some of the metallic rail posts are still seen near the western wall where livestock would be brought in, even a few low brick beds where fires for curing would be lit.

The layout of the place can still be seen. Animals would be brought in through the western door where they would be killed, hung, and butchered. The meat would then be carted off to the butcher and the smokehouses while the skin would be brought to large tables where they would be flensed and then washed in big stone tubs. These tubs would have a mixture of water, urine, and wood ash and would require the hides to be soaked for up to a week.

After the leather was cleaned and scraped it would be taken to the stretching and drying racks where it would be placed over warm coal beds and treated with various mixtures that included charred bark, animal brains, and dung that would be painted onto the heated side. Every 12 hours the racks would be turned over and the process continued on the opposite side for 2 days total per skin. Eventually the leather was washed a final time an hung on long rows of beams that stretched across the middle of the Tannery where it would cure slowly over time taking in some cases up to a month.

There is a second floor to the Tannery placed across the middle of the building. Two sets of metal steps climb up 15’ to a wood and metal catwalk. There are 4 doors up here that lead to what was once the manager’s office, the sales office, the records room, and the meeting room. Each room/office is roughly 20’ wide by 15’ deep. Windows look out on the floor on both sides, allowing those above to watch the work that went on below. The only blind spot was directly beneath the 2nd floor locations and Tannery workers learned it was a good place to congregate during the slower times.

At this time the Tannery is home to what few vagrants and homeless souls that dare to stay in the creaking, aged building. Most will stay a few nights, maybe a week or two, but all eventually leave with a feeling of uncomfortability that take a few days to shake off.

During the goblin occupation, the Leech had used the Tannery as not only its original purpose, but also for the torturing and eventual skinning of the people of Shakun. Many dissidents found themselves strapped to racks and hung from hooks above and their skins cut from their bodies. The skins were then treated like any other hide and treated accordingly. The Leech would bestow these fabrics to his upper echelon to have fashioned into clothing and worn proudly around town. There were also times when the Leech would use foul sorceries to trap the souls of those being tortured within the very skins they were removing, and those same skins would wail, yell, and moan piteously many days or even weeks after they had been flayed.

With Shakun being mostly reclaimed and repaired; only the Tannery and the hovels that line Tanner’s Way stands out in need of work. But there has been a lack of interest in doing so due to the still denuded potential herds that don’t demand a large scale Tanner, the blood soaked walls and sorceries that took place within the confines of the building, and the in general filthy and foul industry that Tanning and Leatherworking is and how even years later those that lived near the Tannery still talk about the noxious odor that came from the site.

Add on-Shakun - Exotic Transportation

Going back about 30 years ago now, the first official town I had ever laid out was Shakun. It was crude, simplistic, and missing most of the actual buildings that people lived in - a layout of the major streets and the shops there. The people were either lifted wholesale from other places I had read about or my first awkward attempts at populating a town.

As time went on I grew more refined and was able to further flesh out the broad strokes of Shakun. This place holds a special place to me as I have had countless adventuring groups either "start" from here or make it their home after the fact.

However with my current group I have not been describing the city as well as I should have, playing it in my mind and glossing it over to the people around the table (plus it is VERY hard to town adventure properly with 7 players!). In an effort to rectify this, I have been penning a few short essays about prominent places in Shakun and forwarding it to the group.

Here is the 5th one:

Exotic Transportation

Of all the places in Shakun that are a far cry from their former glory, none is more obvious than Exotic Transportation. Situated on the western end of town, literally just on the inside of West Gate, it takes up six property lengths and the fenced in yard that is part of its grounds easily covers another five.
 
Originally it was the trading post and launching point for the traders and travelers that were heading westward towards Waterdale, Orland, and the barbaric outlands of Pervia. Caravans would meet there, get organized, and leave from this place often. At that time there was a strong following of Artemis in Shakun and the local matrons and priestesses would often bless the gathering before they headed out.
 
As the number of wagon trains heading west eventually lessened and traders began returning from these distant places with their wares, the building was expanded to house all the horses, wagons, and carts that used Shakun as a waypoint. Business and trade flourished and the location was renamed “Western Points Shakun Stablery and Wheelwright”. The priestesses of Artemis continued their many blessings and the months moved into years.
 
Things would have gone on in this vein without change if Matron Merliss hadn’t gotten terribly ill. The High Priestess to Artemis developed a wracking cough that no healing was able to squelch. She grew weaker and died within 3 days. The Motherhouse in Gul did not have anyone interested in taking over Merliss’ post so they had their small temple closed and the 5 sisters that had been left behind donated most of the heavy pieces (benches, desks, chairs, water basins, etc…) they did not want to bother transporting back to Gul to the Western Points Stablery with their thanks and departed Shakun.
 
It was remarked after this time that the horses and ponies that Western Points tended to kept their shoes longer, were in better health, and had fewer diseases and ailments. Eventually the same was said about the oxen and mules as well. In fact even the stable cats were noticed to be of better disposition and had more full litters of kittens born. This translated into a lesser mouse problem about Shakun and the surrounding fields.
 
Montgomery Wheelwright, the owner of Western Points, had three sons working at the stablery. It was his youngest, Eherego, that showed the most promise. Careful, attentive, eager; he had the easiest time with any of the livestock brought in and even though he was barely into his teens, had the respect of most of the riders and traders that used Western Points.
 
When one of the rangers had dragged in a half dead hippogriff he had captured in the wild, the original expectation was to have the beast slain, the feathers and blood harvested, and the head stuffed and mounted. Eherego instead saw something about the hippogriff and gave the ranger every coin he had plus a promise of bondsmanship to the ranger for 181 days if he would sell him the beast. The ranger agreed and Eherego nursed the badly hurt animal back to health.
 
He had a seemingly natural knack with any kind of animal, even those that would be considered monstrous. Once the hippogriff was healthy he then was able to train it to take a rider and sold it back to the same ranger for 10 times what he had paid for it as well as the lifting of the bondsmanship. Other traders and trappers soon heard of Western Points and all manner of captured and strange beasts soon made their way to Shakun.
 
On Eherego’s 16th birthday, Montgomery Wheelwright had the name of Western Points changed to Exotic Transportation and took his youngest in as a full partner.
 
In its heyday, Exotic Transportation had seen just about any animal that could be ridden on through land and air come to Eherego’s locale. Horses, ponies, mules, lizards, hippogriffs, griffons, elephants, rhinoceroses, hippopotamuses, pegasi, unicorns, gigantic snakes, wyverns, gigantic spiders, war dogs, wolves, great cats, even one time a small green dragon. Stock would rotate swiftly at Exotic Transportation and if you saw something one season you wanted, there was no guarantee it would be there the following one.
 
And then in the blink of an eye, the goblin occupation came and it was all over. The Leech plundered Exotic Transportation of its unique wares and dispensed the riding beasts to his captains and trusted followers. Eherego’s life work was scattered and within a year, he lost track of every one of his special mounts.
 
After the lifting of the occupation, Exotic Transportation was cleaned, refitted, and ready to once again cater to the strange and wondrous needs of those who wanted superior mounts properly trained and treated by an expert. However, sadly, Eherego’s stock consists of horses and oxen at this time, and most of them are in poor health and had been ill-treated. It is a testament though of his staff and himself that the animals that he does take care of often times do overcome their ailments and appear to be of better temperament after a while.
 
If you do stop and see him he will wax long about some of his glory days and the things he had done, and he will promise to pay highest coin to anyone who can find him anything outside the norm for him to train and work with. To date it hasn’t happened, but he is tenacious in his belief that the wheel will turn again one day.
 
Exotic Transportation is a very long building with over 30 stalls large enough to house any horse or oxen, with 5 of them being of gargantuan size. There is a well maintained running yard where he or his sons and apprentices are often times seen training what mounts they do have. Exotic Transportation has saddle broken every horse currently in and around Shakun.
 
The back area of Exotic Transportation is used as a small carpenter’s shed with a number of saws, lathes, braces, and planers. Everything is done manually; there is no wheel to ease any of the processes. The primary purpose of this shop is to keep the aging and poor cache of carts and wagons that the locals of Shakun use in some sort of decent repair. There is a lack of decent hardwood trees in the area and most of what is needed has to be imported from Timberton. This has resulted in Exotic Transportation being forced to salvage what they could from existing wheels and wagons as well as use poorer quality local timbers when there are none available by trade.
 
For a short while Exotic Transportation was doing their own farrier work but it was not effective so instead they have all shoes being currently made by Sutor’s Forge while they do the actual work on the animals.
 
Exotic Transportation is owned and run by Eherego, his 4 children (3 sons, 1 daughter) and their spouses, plus he has another 7 apprentices who work for him part time. Most of the work is mundane in nature but for the people who are employed there, they either remember a time or had heard stories of when Exotic Transportation was the destination that most travelers from even 30 leagues away would talk about and come all the way to see. Perhaps as Eherego is fond of saying, the wheel will turn again, and they will be able to see those times once more.