What's That Got to Do with the Price of Ale in Reikland?
Posted: Mon Dec 03, 2012 1:36 pm
A Wood Elf Adventure — Or, What's That Got to Do with the Price of Ale in Reikland?
Frimbin Grimbirch had been on the road for several days, his horse-drawn carriage filled to capacity with a precious cargo: casks of Bugman's XXXXX, en route to a couple of taverns in Nuln. Precious indeed, he mused to himself, for he could not remember a year in which the price of ale — nay, brews and liquors of every sort — had been so high. Bugman's stood to make a princely fortune this season if they could just get it to market. Aye, that had been the problem…
Frimbin's thoughts were cut short as he rounded a bend in a dark, secluded section of woodland and came across a fallen tree obstructing the road. That's odd, he muttered out loud. There had been no recent storms or heavy winds, so it seemed unlikely that the tree had gotten there on its own. Then he heard some rustling in the underbrush off to the side…
* * *
Glurk Grognoggin and his little misfit band of robbers (the "Grabbits" was the rather uncreative name they had chosen for themselves) eagerly eyed their quarry from the hiding place they had chosen in the bushes. "Get ready, me boys," he hissed with a twisted grin. "Dis dwarf done brought us more ale dan Blork here's mama drinks for breaky-fast!" Blork grinned stupidly. "Now enuff talkin', you know da drill!" Glurk continued. "Git!"
Glurk and his four fellow brigands emerged from the trees. "Up wit' yer hands!" he snarled at the stout dwarf sitting at the front of the carriage with the reins. Glurk waved his rusty, pockmarked sword as menacingly as he could. The others took up posts around the carriage, weapons drawn.
"D-d-don't ye be doing anything rash, good goblins," stammered Frimbin, apparently quite alarmed at the holdup. "If ye and yer lads fancy a few drops of ale, I'm sure something can be arranged…"
"Shut up!" hissed Glurk. "We takes what we wants. Blork!"
"Duh, yes, boss?"
"You and Jinky go do some inspectin' on da cargo! See if we be gettin' enough to spare dis dwarf's paffetic life!"
Blork and Jinky sheathed their swords, hustled to the back of the carriage, clambered up, and proceeded to look over the casks. Blork started to say, "Looks like we gots about…"
Suddenly, the lids went flying off two of the barrels, and out of them sprang two dwarves, chain-mail and steel axes gleaming in the sunlight. "So ye think ye can lay yer grimy gobby paws on Bugman's best?" yelled one as he swung his hefty weapon at an astonished Blork. Simultaneously, Frimbin had pulled out his own axe from under his seat and was turning to face Glurk.
The dwarves had the element of surprise on their side, but the goblins were not giving up their prize without a fight. And so it was, that while Frimbin's two cousins, who had been hiding in the carriage the whole time, were mopping up the remainder of the goblin band, Frimbin was learning the hard way that what his goblin opponent lacked in personal hygiene, he more than made up for in animal strength and tenacity. Around and around the two went, exchanging blows, until at least, to Frimbin's horror, the axe head broke from its shaft, leaving him defenceless against Glurk's blade.
"Dis is for Blork!" Glurk hissed, as he raised his sword for the killing blow—and then grunted, make a curious gurgling sound, and fell over backwards. Glurk was stone dead, with three arrows protruding from his chest.
Frimbin whirled around to see three tall, lanky figures dressed in green and holding bows emerge from the woods on the other side of the road.
"It appeared that you were in need of assistance," said the tallest of the three. "Allow me to introduce myself. Caroth, lord of Anaereth, at your service."
"Pleased…I'm sure," stammered Frimbin, still somewhat dazed at the close call.
To be continued…
Frimbin Grimbirch had been on the road for several days, his horse-drawn carriage filled to capacity with a precious cargo: casks of Bugman's XXXXX, en route to a couple of taverns in Nuln. Precious indeed, he mused to himself, for he could not remember a year in which the price of ale — nay, brews and liquors of every sort — had been so high. Bugman's stood to make a princely fortune this season if they could just get it to market. Aye, that had been the problem…
Frimbin's thoughts were cut short as he rounded a bend in a dark, secluded section of woodland and came across a fallen tree obstructing the road. That's odd, he muttered out loud. There had been no recent storms or heavy winds, so it seemed unlikely that the tree had gotten there on its own. Then he heard some rustling in the underbrush off to the side…
* * *
Glurk Grognoggin and his little misfit band of robbers (the "Grabbits" was the rather uncreative name they had chosen for themselves) eagerly eyed their quarry from the hiding place they had chosen in the bushes. "Get ready, me boys," he hissed with a twisted grin. "Dis dwarf done brought us more ale dan Blork here's mama drinks for breaky-fast!" Blork grinned stupidly. "Now enuff talkin', you know da drill!" Glurk continued. "Git!"
Glurk and his four fellow brigands emerged from the trees. "Up wit' yer hands!" he snarled at the stout dwarf sitting at the front of the carriage with the reins. Glurk waved his rusty, pockmarked sword as menacingly as he could. The others took up posts around the carriage, weapons drawn.
"D-d-don't ye be doing anything rash, good goblins," stammered Frimbin, apparently quite alarmed at the holdup. "If ye and yer lads fancy a few drops of ale, I'm sure something can be arranged…"
"Shut up!" hissed Glurk. "We takes what we wants. Blork!"
"Duh, yes, boss?"
"You and Jinky go do some inspectin' on da cargo! See if we be gettin' enough to spare dis dwarf's paffetic life!"
Blork and Jinky sheathed their swords, hustled to the back of the carriage, clambered up, and proceeded to look over the casks. Blork started to say, "Looks like we gots about…"
Suddenly, the lids went flying off two of the barrels, and out of them sprang two dwarves, chain-mail and steel axes gleaming in the sunlight. "So ye think ye can lay yer grimy gobby paws on Bugman's best?" yelled one as he swung his hefty weapon at an astonished Blork. Simultaneously, Frimbin had pulled out his own axe from under his seat and was turning to face Glurk.
The dwarves had the element of surprise on their side, but the goblins were not giving up their prize without a fight. And so it was, that while Frimbin's two cousins, who had been hiding in the carriage the whole time, were mopping up the remainder of the goblin band, Frimbin was learning the hard way that what his goblin opponent lacked in personal hygiene, he more than made up for in animal strength and tenacity. Around and around the two went, exchanging blows, until at least, to Frimbin's horror, the axe head broke from its shaft, leaving him defenceless against Glurk's blade.
"Dis is for Blork!" Glurk hissed, as he raised his sword for the killing blow—and then grunted, make a curious gurgling sound, and fell over backwards. Glurk was stone dead, with three arrows protruding from his chest.
Frimbin whirled around to see three tall, lanky figures dressed in green and holding bows emerge from the woods on the other side of the road.
"It appeared that you were in need of assistance," said the tallest of the three. "Allow me to introduce myself. Caroth, lord of Anaereth, at your service."
"Pleased…I'm sure," stammered Frimbin, still somewhat dazed at the close call.
To be continued…
