Kay's Journal, 10/2, Reaper Errant #012

 Kay’s Journal, 10/2

• 200 XP
• 14 GP

We’ve made it the rest of the way through the mountain pass to a small village. There’s one good-sized building, and everything else is small homes and such. Based on the number of goats around, we’re guessing that sheparding is a big part of the local economy. 

As we get into town, we find the blacksmith and the tavern. We started with the blacksmith, a fellow named Rothfern. We told him about the goblins we ran across on the pass. He said they occasionally had problems with the goblins, sure, but they have bigger problems. He didn’t want to get into the details right then, but agreed to meet us in the tavern that evening. 

He also agreed to exchange all that copper to gold for us, and did that right then.

We headed toward the tavern, and on the way there passed a woman carrying a water bucket. Pujol cast his Unseen Servant to help her carry the bucket. We went on in to the tavern. It’s small, but the bartender is happy to have customers, and asks us if we’ve come from the lakes. We tell him no, we’re from Woefield. He’s super impressed that we’ve travelled all that way.  He also tells us they’re having trouble with orc raiders in the mountains. They don’t know where the orcs are coming from. 

We got meals and rooms for the night, and continued chatting. We learn that there are some wood carvers in the village. They also gather herbs with medicinal properties. They trade these products with the towns by the lakes. They usually send a couple wagons in the fall, but have been putting it off this year because of the orc attacks. There was an attack on the outskirts of the village 2 nights ago at a homestead belonging to Margaret and Sam; some goats and other supplies were stolen. We this that a good tracker would be able to follow the 2-day old tracks.

We agree to escort the caravan down to the lakes. It’ll be 1 or 2 wagons and drivers. They’ll pay us 5-10% of their take on the trade, which he expects will be about 200gp.

Pujol asks about bounties on the orcs, and is told that Jeremy would be the guy to talk to about that. So, we get directions to Jeremy’s house and go to talk about him. Jeremy is an elf, and it turns out he’s about to do his rounds around the village to look for intruders. Abran, Fathom, and I go with him. 

As we travel around the outskirts of the village, I spot a humanoid behind a rocky outcropping. I told the others, and Jeremy signaled for us to split up and flank them. It would have been a great plan, if they hadn’t already seen us. They threw javelins, and one hit Fathom right in the chest. There are four orcs to contend with.

Abran and Jeremy ran up to the rocks and took cover. Fathom and I went to the side, intending to get up on the rocks above them. 

Two orcs jumped over the rocks to attack Jeremy and Abran, but both missed. They traded blows while Fathom and I climbed up on the rocks. I shot at the orcs and Fathom cast a spell at them, but we both missed. OK, fine…I shouted down at the two orcs to surrender if they wanted to live. It was a decent distraction, if nothing else.

Abran and Jeremy killed the two orcs that had attacked them pretty quickly. Fathom and I shot at one of the other orcs again, and killed it. The last one went running, but Abran shot his ensnaring vine thing at him. He fell, but died before we could get to him to question him. We took a handful of coins off the bodies and went back to town. On the way, Jeremy told us that these orcs were from the Bone Chewer tribe.

While we’d been out fighting orcs, Pujol, Gooseneck, and Corncob had stayed in the tavern. While Pujol played for the crowds, Gooseneck and Corncob learned that there were two tribes of orcs that had been harassing the village. The orcs prefer hitting soft targets. There had been a handful of orc raids in years past, but this year there had been quite a few more than usual.

Abran, Fathom and I returned to the tavern as the sound of Pujol’s music was winding down. Gooseneck and Corncob learned that we could expect it to take at least a week for the caravan to get to the village. Wagons go slow. The smith is also concerned that one of the drivers going with us might be hotheaded and foolish enough to lead us on a shorter, but more dangerous, path in hopes of encountering more orcs and having a chance at vengeance.

It was pretty late by then, and things were winding down. The locals went home, and we retired for the night.