The Tale of Sir Ly And Father Tobias
Saving Farmer Giles:
25th Day Of The Fading (September)
The Adventure of ‘Saving Farmer Giles’ will bring our young Adventurers together for the first time.
Frimly, still indebted to Thora for saving him from a terrible beating, has decided to stay on in Daggerford and see what fortune awaits him there.
Aside from the small matter of extracting a tax on the swizzlers (see Chapter 1), he has kept his nose clean and his eyes and ears open. Thora further ensures that he attends the chapel of St Cuthbert on a daily basis – Frimly’s cherubic looks and angelic voice make him a shoe-in for the choir. Surely his sinners’ soul can be saved!?
After his two weeks of training are completed, Thora collects him from his boarding house at first light and takes him to see Sherlen Spearslayer, over at the barracks. They are to accompany a wealthy local farmer to a small neighbouring town, some 20 miles away. They will be accompanied by 3 other militia men including a Fighting Priest and a Noble Holy Fighter.
They meet the horse drawn wagon laden with various barrels and sacks of grain, and their new companions, at the main gate, and leave without further ado.
The party march on at a brisk pace, with polite conversation turning to talk of Holy Worship, the merits of various minor deities and much boastful chit-chat of previous encounters with ungodly miscreants. They meet little other traffic on the road.
The Paladin introduces himself as Sir Ly, a minor noble who intends to rid the lands hereabouts of the creeping tide of evil. Thora wonders if this will be achieved by poking his enemies with an overly waxed, sharply pointy moustache.
Frimly has seen his type before, galavanting around Waterdeep – all go and no show – in his garish livery. Troll meat if ever he has seen some.
Sir Ly’s companion is an altogether different proposition. It is the first time that Frimly has been in the close company of an Elf, and he eyes him with curiosity. The finely chiselled features and angular body belie a mesmerising sing-song lilt and graceful, effortless movement.
Father Tobias is thoughtful and considered, as wise as an elf should be, thinks Frimly. The Symbol of St Cuthbert never far from his hand.
Unlike many Dwarves, the clan at Daggerford hold no grudge to Elves.
Derval Ironeater: “The residents of a siege town should know friend from foe.”
Is Derval Ironeater’s oft heard take on the matter.
Furthermore, Thora respects any person who devotes their life to holiness and good deeds. She is polite and respectful, but reserved and business like when dealing with the others. After all she is the representative of Daggerford here and reputation is everything.
Only Frimly is afforded more personal contact in the form of gentle chiding and mild teasing; which he seems to take in good heart, offering cheeky, bawdy ripostes in return.
The Trade Road Southwards is mostly flat, running in parallel to the coast of the Sea of Swords, sitting just high enough to mostly avoid the marshes and flood plains. To the east lie hummocky glacial morrains with the Misty Forest spread out beyond.
The wind is up and bands of seaborne gusting rains persuade the party to hunker deeper into their cloaks, while whorls of yellow leaves are torn from fast balding trees. The fungal Autumnal smell of rotting damp leaves hangs heavy.
Soon the snows shall come and hungry Orcs and Wolves will become emboldened.
Lunch is hearty and welcome. Warm mutton stew and the coarse local dark bread are washed down with a brown stout much loved by dwarves. No meat passes Father Tobias’ lips, only fruit, nuts, honey and a simple flat bread and soft badgers cheese.
The party press on in contented silence, the wind has dropped and only the snuffling of the horses and groaning of cart wheels accompanies them.
Then from the front, Thora raises an arm in cautious signal, both she and Father Tobias have taken point and have spotted movement on a hillocky mound ahead. It might just be a bear, but no chances can be taken. The Dwarf Warrior and Elven Cleric move between their charges and the hillock, whilst the others mind for an attack from the rear.
Suddenly the ambush is sprung. It is a small band of four Orcs, who rush from cover wielding spears which they hurl, while shouting guttural taunts and insults.
But these are no untrained rabble, and their intended target is not, initially, us, but rather the cart horses. Of which one is struck dead and the other is gravely wounded, letting out a shrieking whinny.
Now the party is stuck between a rock and another rock!
Frimly, takes cover behind the cart and draws his Short Bow, urging the ruddy faced Farmer Giles and his hand to take cover. He watches as Thora charges at her foes alongside Father Tobias, wielding her razor sharp Battle Axe in both hands and smiting a foe in one swift movement.
A melee ensues, with Sir Ly now running forward to join in the fray. Tobias strikes another Orc to the ground, while her heavy Dwarven axe sprays more Orc blood upon the soft ground, but not before she takes a heavy blow from a swiftly drawn Scimitar.
Over the brow of the hill emerge four Orcish short bow archers, who fire down a rain of pain upon the party. Our fellow guard, Johan, takes a serious wound and falls beside Frimly, moaning in acute pain. Frimly returns fire, to no avail.
Sir Ly and Father Tobias seriously wound the last spear Orc who flees in terror. Thora wheels to the right behind a tree topped mound to head off the cowardly scum…and runs slap bang into the back of 3 waiting Orcs. One unarmoured and perhaps a shaman, and the other two fighters, one of whom is garbed in chainmail.
She waits not a mote before cleaving the shaman and engaging the fighters.
Unaware of her plight, Father Tobias and Sir Ly, deal with the archers. Taking light wounds they charge the hill. Frimly gives firing cover with some success. Still the arrows rain in.
Thora quickly drops the Orc henchmen and comes eyeball to kneecap with the scimitar wielding leader. He is fast and strong and they trade guttural insults in their native tongues.
But Thora is better trained and more disciplined and lands a juddering blow into her opponent’s midriff, he retaliates and strikes her across the back, forcing the breath from her.
They stand apart, panting and glowering before lurching forward and clattering into each other with sparks, spittle, spumes of blood and sweat, swirling like a dizzy Catherine wheel of primal combat. Then, with a dull thud, it is over.
Thora offers a murmured prayer to Kord.
Atop the hill, Tobias swings left and right with his mace with a head stoving clinical accuracy that is in stark contrast the fumblings of Sir Ly. A badly wounded archer takes his chance and flees.
Sir Ly goes to follow, but Father Tobias offers better counsel and they return to the wagon and begin to attend to the wounded, offering hearty thanks to St Cuthbert for their safe delivery.
Five to the Dwarf and four to the priest….but who’s counting!?
Fimly’s task is to cut off 18 Orcish ears for bounty, break weapons or keep those of quality and burn bodies. He also discovers a bag of ‘Spell Components’, 4 Gold on the chief, a small bag of Silver, and assorted Copper.
The dead horses are detached from the wagon and the Guards horses are hitched in their place.
Farmer Giles and his party arrive well past dusk, much to the relief of his waiting family.
Much drinking, feasting and boasting are undertaken at the local Inn and Farmer Giles will certainly mention Frimly’ stunning accuracy and bravery in the face of enemy fire.