Monday, 23 November 2015

Adventurers: Part the Third

“This? This is your master?”

The thugs chuckled as the marksman sneered derisively at Oddleigh from across the half-eaten food and empty beakers on the table, his sharp and piercing eyes seemingly whittling the apprentice down to his constituent parts: cowardice, incompetence and failure.

And a small spark of bravery (or at least indignation).

“Wha? Er, I mean - I am no ‘this’ you cur!” he blustered. “I am apprenticed to the noble Thaddeus Daemoncall!”

The marksman glared for a second, before barking out a laugh.

“Hah! At least my kinsfolk will be led into battle by someone with a little spirit!”

The marksman – Uluk whateverhisnamewas – came from the same tribe as some of the warriors that had accompanied Thaddeus and Oddleigh from their exile on the Steppes. While they were newcomers, he and his band had been hiring themselves out for many months. Consequently they were better armed and armoured than their cousins – and more expensive to retain.

“Moghai tells me this is will be your first expedition to Frostgrave. Well I want my kin to survive, so take heed… There is something stirring… I know not what, but I have heard tales of something at the heart of the city. Something worse than the ice toads, ghouls, werewolves and the like. So you be careful, and, if you make it out alive with enough gold, seek me out, for it has been many a winter since my cousins and I fought side-by-side.”

“Er, perhaps you could fight for us now?” smiled Oddleigh weakly. “We’ve spent most of our gold but, y’know, maybe you could give us friends and family rates?”

The marksman glared, his face turning purple. He leant forward, his hand resting on his crossbow.

“HAH! A sense of humour as well as spirit!”

He doubled over, wheezing with laughter.

“You sir, will go far…"

“Oh, thanks!” Oddleigh grinned.

“Or die…” shrugged Uluk. “The ones with a sense of humour always either do very well, or die…”

Oddleigh could only gape as the kinsmen clunked beakers, and shook the tavern with a tribal shriek. One last night of merriment before they set off on their first expedition...

Some more potential recruits for my warband – a marksman, two crossbowmen and a pair of infantrymen, all knocked together from my Fireforge plastic kits.

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