Neponde
Active Member
- Joined
- 27/03/2022
- Messages
- 157
Time to give ironman another go. Since screenshots are no longer working, and I need a creative outlet, we are going a different approach for keeping up with the story. So begins the tale of Asherun!
"I woke up at the inn this morning in a strange town called Lannegar. It reminds me of the inn from my own village, though we never were wealthy enough to stay there. At best, every few weeks, maybe once a month, my uncle would take me for a pint of ale. He never told mother, of course, she had enough worries about the farm.
This is just the first stop on my journey. A few months ago, my mother finally told me that I had a sister. She was taken by slavers when I was a small lad, and I had no memory of her. Now, she felt I was old enough to share in the burden of knowledge. Seeing the tears rolling down her cheeks, I swore to her that I would search for her, and bring her home!
I've always been strong for my age, and now its time to use the strength I have been blessed with for more than swinging a scythe. My uncle gave me a small sword, hardly more than a knife. But it has served its purpose well. I had only heard tales of goblins, but was forced to defend myself against them on my way here. It gives me no joy to take their lives, but I saw no other option. And now, the captain of the guard tells me over an ale that one of his men is being held prisoner by the goblins. In return for his kindness to me, I will seek out the prisoner and free him from his chains. Let us hope that I am strong enough for this task!"
"Never before had I experienced such fear. I stood before that broken down mine hole, its mouth a yawning black pit. I could smell that now familiar, stale odor of goblins wafting out, as well as faint traces of smoke. Perhaps they have fires going on in there.
Near the entrance, I found an old, rusted hammer in a broken crate. Not useful for much, perhaps, but a few test swings and I thought it could perhaps give me a slight advantage cracking goblin skulls.
I could barely see in the tunnels. Thankfully, even the goblins must need a little light, for there were occasional torches ensconced. I crept into the tunnel, hoping to go unnoticed, but the alarm was raised immediately. I was forced to fight for my life. Two, three goblins at a time pounced me. Hacking, slashing, stabbing at me with their nasty little bone knives. Swinging my hammer as hard as I could, I managed to hold my own.
As I ventured deeper into the tunnels, I found the imprisoned scout. Seeing him removed any remaining qualms I had about burying these goblins in their own mine. I found some old leather boots and bracers in the mine, and together with the leather vest the town merchant loaned me, the knives of the goblins only stung a little bit. A few of them hurled spears which pierced through the leather.
At last, I found the switch to release the prison door. The man, Teram he introduced himself as, limped back to town with me, so badly injured I had to prop him up as we went. Thankfully, we returned without incident.
I am grateful for this soft bed to sink into. Tomorrow, I will be ready to resume my search. The captain of the guard said that a nearby village called Kingsbridge may be a good place to pick up the trail of slavers. Gossip travels frequently between the people there and the big city of New Garand."
"I woke up at the inn this morning in a strange town called Lannegar. It reminds me of the inn from my own village, though we never were wealthy enough to stay there. At best, every few weeks, maybe once a month, my uncle would take me for a pint of ale. He never told mother, of course, she had enough worries about the farm.
This is just the first stop on my journey. A few months ago, my mother finally told me that I had a sister. She was taken by slavers when I was a small lad, and I had no memory of her. Now, she felt I was old enough to share in the burden of knowledge. Seeing the tears rolling down her cheeks, I swore to her that I would search for her, and bring her home!
I've always been strong for my age, and now its time to use the strength I have been blessed with for more than swinging a scythe. My uncle gave me a small sword, hardly more than a knife. But it has served its purpose well. I had only heard tales of goblins, but was forced to defend myself against them on my way here. It gives me no joy to take their lives, but I saw no other option. And now, the captain of the guard tells me over an ale that one of his men is being held prisoner by the goblins. In return for his kindness to me, I will seek out the prisoner and free him from his chains. Let us hope that I am strong enough for this task!"
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"Never before had I experienced such fear. I stood before that broken down mine hole, its mouth a yawning black pit. I could smell that now familiar, stale odor of goblins wafting out, as well as faint traces of smoke. Perhaps they have fires going on in there.
Near the entrance, I found an old, rusted hammer in a broken crate. Not useful for much, perhaps, but a few test swings and I thought it could perhaps give me a slight advantage cracking goblin skulls.
I could barely see in the tunnels. Thankfully, even the goblins must need a little light, for there were occasional torches ensconced. I crept into the tunnel, hoping to go unnoticed, but the alarm was raised immediately. I was forced to fight for my life. Two, three goblins at a time pounced me. Hacking, slashing, stabbing at me with their nasty little bone knives. Swinging my hammer as hard as I could, I managed to hold my own.
As I ventured deeper into the tunnels, I found the imprisoned scout. Seeing him removed any remaining qualms I had about burying these goblins in their own mine. I found some old leather boots and bracers in the mine, and together with the leather vest the town merchant loaned me, the knives of the goblins only stung a little bit. A few of them hurled spears which pierced through the leather.
At last, I found the switch to release the prison door. The man, Teram he introduced himself as, limped back to town with me, so badly injured I had to prop him up as we went. Thankfully, we returned without incident.
I am grateful for this soft bed to sink into. Tomorrow, I will be ready to resume my search. The captain of the guard said that a nearby village called Kingsbridge may be a good place to pick up the trail of slavers. Gossip travels frequently between the people there and the big city of New Garand."
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