3. Philomena Sureshot.

Philomena Sureshot.


  • _Firstly, this is from er six weeks ago, and is a crosspost from the Halfling Defense League forums. I put it here simply to keep all my longish ic postings together for ease of reference.

    Philomena will, on her many visits to the Silver Valley, tell the following tale to all good hin who care to listen;

    "Hail friend! The valley has had a mysterious visitor!

    Just a few days ago, I attended a meeting of the senior hin of the Silver Valley. It was a balmy evening and the dragonflies buzzed contentedly by the lake, as some familiar figures gathered; myself - Philomena, ranger of the Rawlinswood, the warrior monk Scutum Hedges, the good minister of Yondalla, Theaon Thorn, the mage-knight of Peltarch, Kasumi Ungarath, and the renowned scout Ginger B Tealeaf. As we were gathered together for the meeting, discussing one or two points of concern, an elderly halfling approached. Dressed in green and grey, he was sprightly for an old feller, and wore an enigmatic smile.

    Inviting himself into our company, he made himself at home and offered us a tale. Naturally our curiousity was piqued, so we bade the old hin spin us his yarn. And quite a tale it was too, of rituals and enchantments, and a rare artifact, a TRUE Black Book of Shame! We spoke to him in return of our Black Book, that had long been kept by the hin of the Silver Valley, in order that they may record the names of those who wish the halflings ill. On hearing of this, the old stranger asked to see it, and was led to our council chambers. He examined our Book carefully, and declared it to be a plain and mundane item. However there was, he told us, a powerful and complex ritual which could give the book great powers! A ritual, furthermore, with which he was thoroughly familiar! The TRUE Book, he told us, would be empowered with the ablity to wreak very doom upon any whose name disgraced its pages!

    We pondered his words carefully, and considered the implications of such a powerful artifact becoming available. We decided then, if we were to be proven worthy, that we would be custodians of such a Book!

    The group seeking the creation of the Book are judged, he told us, by being set a series of tasks, to obtain the ingredients needed for the enchantment. The old feller, Bryant, he said his name was, then detailed each of these ingredients in turn.

    The first was the hide of a black-hearted creature, to be used to provide binding for the book! We were told, however, that this creature had to be slain by the power of the hin god's themselves! This was to show that we have the blessing of the hin deities in our task! Naturally, we all looked to Theaon Thorn to play a principle role in this. The second was a thimblefull of blood, to be freely given by a hin-hater, convinced to assist those he formerly despised! I must say we scratched our heads on this one, but where there's a will, there's a way! We must complete this task to demonstrate that we can overcome prejudice. Thirdly, the book needed two pages of magical papyrus, taken from the tome of a mage. The gentlehin and scholar Kasumi Ungarath kindly gave of his own eldritch grimoire to help his fellow hin. Fourthly is required a lock of hair from a living, non-hin thief, the proof of the baselessness of bigotry. Well, despite all thats said, most thieves are NOT hin, I declared, and finding a tallie thief, given their venal and quarrelsome nature, should prove child's play! The final task was to find one elf, one human, and one halfbreed willing to help in the ritual, to demonstrate that strong friendships can be forged, despite prejudice, between halflings and the other races. We all agreed, that this would be simple, all of those present having convinced those of other races of our honour and our strength.

    Having described the tasks before us, he asked for our consent. We decided, then and there, for the pride and benefit of the halfling people, that we would undertake these tests, and have our worth determined! The curious old hin, Bryant, then took his leave off us. When asked how he might be contacted, he left with these enigmatic words, " there are those amongst you who know how to contact the uncontactable." Who knows what the crazy feller meant by this, like I told my friends, he is either a charlatan, a lunatic, a genius, or a saint.

    At any rate the tasks lie before us, good hin!. I think some discussion and planning is in order, perhaps over some cakes and ale. Let any who might assist, help where he can. For those who cannot, simply listen to the tale unfold!"_

  • ?

    Xp Given


  • The young militia lieutenant swings open the door of the boarshead and trudges inside. How those blistered feet ached! And after a rare warm, bright day, she was parched. A quick drank was what was required, just as a restorative,of course! Taking a small ale from Misty, the halfling seems to relax.

    Drinking her ale with relish, she looks round, just to make sure things are nice and quiet. In Norwick, she had learned to be ever watchful for signs of trouble. The sight of a brightly clad dwarf, a newcomer to town, she figured, caught her eye. An odd-looking fellow, Philomena eyed him wryly, her eyebrow arching quizzically.

    Becoming aware of her gaze, the dwarf addresses her,

    "Allo lass" he says, in a voice rumbling with laughter, "What's a pretty little thing like you doin' in a barbarian town like this 'un?"

    An impudent manner to go with the colourful attire! Introducing herself, she announces briskly, "I am Philomena Sureshot, Militia Lieutenant of Norwick, I am charged with the protection of this town. And who may you be?"

    "I'm Malak. Folks call me The Rumbler. Lately, however, I've taken up bein' a bit o' an entertainer."

    Chuckling at the fellow's odd manner, she listens as he goes on to claim his shows were "becomin' the stuff o' legend." Well, the addition of a known brawler in the town might have repercussions for keeping the peace, Philomena muses - such a one might attract challengers. Looking him squarely in the eye, she barks,

    "Well, make sure you dont do any rumbling on my watch!"

    "Nay lass, me rumblin' days'r past. I'll wrestle a lad fer fun, but no more serious rumblin'," he says with an audible sigh, his great bellow-like lungs exhaling mightily. Then, with a twinkle in his eye, and a broad grin on his ruddy face, he adds;

    "Say lass … p'rhaps you'd like 'ta wrestle me sometime?"

    Bristling, the young Militia Lieutenant responds icily, "I hardly think that's likely." In a long-practised look of resolve, here small eyes narrow, and her firm jaw sets.

    "I won't hurt ye none mind. It's be more of an exchange o' techniques," the dwarf adds with audacity! "Now lass... I see the look yer a' givin' me, and I kin tell what yer a' thinkin'. Yer a thinkin' ol' Malak wants ta try 'is hand at one o' the guard in town. I assure ye lass ... tryin' me hand at bestin' ye in combat is the last reason I'd want 'ta wrestle ye. I figure a little roll around is good fer the spirits."

    Now this talk was beyond the pale! Blushing at Malak's forward manner, Philomena responds pertly,

    "I will give you some advice sir, since you are a newcomer to norwick! Keep your distance from well-armed halflings!"

    And with that, her sense of propriety enraged, the little whirlwind sets her shoulders back, turns briskly on her heel, and strides towards the door of the Boarshead.

    Alas, the colourful newcomer had not finished. Philomena sighed, figuring the dwarf was just the type who would always demand the last word,

    "Lass, I'll give ye a bit o' advice as well. Remember ol' Malak."

    And then with a grin he adds,

    "Fer if'n ye ever see me perform, it'll take yer cruel hard attitude n' turn it on its ears."

    As she turns to leave the Inn, the halfling shakes her head, and although her face still looks stern, the smallest of smiles plays around her lips.

  • D

    Reviewed. XP Pending.


  • (Cross-post from "Norwick" Forum, dated Mar 24)

    *A note addressed to Captain Gulir at the Barracks, in that small but resolute hand;

    Report Issue #5

    Incident #01

    Two Haughty Spirits

    The day began peacefully enough, with only a dangerous spurt of wild magic to relieve the monotony of my patrols. Fortunately, no-one was seriously hurt from the random magical effects. I evacuated the townspeople, making sure they were safe in the Boarshead, and then scouted the area to determine if any miscreants were engaging in irresponsible spell-weaving. Finding none, I returned to the Boarshead for a small glass of light ale, hoping to unwind after the excitement.

    As I enjoyed the pleasant warmth of the Inn, i thought i discerned a movement behind me. In an instant i felt the unmistakeable touch of cold steel at my exposed neck! A voice whispered threats in my ear, a voice which for an instant I failed to recognise. I moved away quickly, ducking away from the blade, and peered around the smokey parlour. The eyes of the Sureshot clan are keen, able to discern movement and other tell tale signs of those who would remain hidden. Suddenly, i saw a movement, and peering closer, could just make out a figure wielding two swords, cloaked by some foul dweomer! It was then that i recalled to whom that silky, threatening voice belonged! It was Elendel Baenre, the elf with the blackened heart of a Drow, one whose murderous crimes had been described to me by Rashid and Toshiro Hito, two stout men whose words i trust. Right there, skulking in the Boarshead, was one of the most wanted men in Narfell! A chill ran down my spine, this was a dangerous situation. Moving quickly, he slid out of the Boarshead, as swift as a serpent. Gathering my courage, for I knew I was no match for this one, i followed him outside. Losing track of him amongst the groups of citizens outside, I quickly called for backup, and just for good measure, gave a great swipe at the gong that hangs alongside Frago's bazaar!

    Glancing round, I caught sight of Elendel, once, twice, but eventually I lost track of him. Assuming he had fled, I returned to the Boarshead. There, I told everyone present to be on the watch for this known assassin, and then to my surprise, I saw once more that telltale movement, the flicker of light, and the sound of his stealthy footfalls, padding around the Boarshead. Elendel had returned to the Inn! Once more i alerted the confused and anxious townsfolk. Now, i have never trusted those of orcish blood, but that day i had cause to thank an orcish halfbreed. The one called Bruno quickly cast a spell to remove the cloaking enchantment of Elendel, and moved to bar the door to the Boarshead. Swiftly, I commanded the hulking brute to guard the door vigilantly! Elendel was trapped!

    Scouring the Boarshead common room, I came across Elendel in the corner, hiding like a scolded child. Attempting to squeeze into the corner, he cut a pitiful figure - gone were his sly boasts, his silken tongue spitting vile venomous threats and curses. Whimpering he was, a pitiful sight, knowing his cause was lost. He made one final attempt to escape, but was easily cornered in the upper floors of the Inn. Now, many others there claimed a second criminal was lurking in the Boarshead, one Garen Kross. Kanen Hightower, paladin and friend to the Norwick Militia, quickly told me that this Garen was a follower of Bane, and was also wanted for many crimes. This one too, was cornered upstairs in the Boarshead.

    On account of the many charges levelled against them, both were swiftly incarcerated in the Norwick Jail, and even now await the judgement of the town. I have requested all those with information of the crimes of this Elendel Baenre and Garen Kross to come forward with written statements. I doubt not that evidence will be presented, sufficient to justify a public execution. The townsfolk need to be protected, and a public execution will reassure the good folk of Norwick that Assassins, Demi-demons, Drow, and Disciples of Evil will be met with the swift and final justice of the gallows!

    Philomena Sureshot, Militia Lieutenant.


  • (Cross-post from "Norwick" Forum, dated Mar 14)

    *A note addressed to Captain Gulir at the Barracks, in that small but resolute hand;

    Report Issue #4

    Incident #01

    Imp Impropriety

    I encountered a mage in town, accompanied by an infernal familiar! Accosting the fellow i demanded he release his foul pet, so that it would not taint the fair air of Norwick. In his defense he claimed to fight evil, and that in this respect the Imp was bound to his will, to carry out Good work!

    Never have i encountered a more ludicrous suggestion! The creature would betray its master given half a chance, and to use such a tool corrupts the wielder, no matter his intentions.

    Of course i insisted the fellow dismiss the imp at once, which he reluctantly did. Unfortunately, my notebook was damaged beyond repair in the rain, and i cannot recall the mage's name.

    ps

    Several citizens have addressed to me their desire to be informed of the current militia members. May i suggest that you or Jore post a notice outside the barracks clearly stating the details of the current Norwick militia roster. That way our authority will not be doubted. Perhaps even we could commission an artist to render our likenesses as well, although i trust we could have some flattering representations!

    This would make us more accessible and open to the citizens of Norwick! The people will know who to turn to if there is trouble, or danger threatens our fine town.

    Philomena Sureshot, Militia Lieutenant.


  • ((Wow… good post. I see so many diary entries from people that I say to myself, "If Kara only knew..."))


  • So, Stevan and the painted whore Karli were wed! She had met Karli, briefly, in the Boarshead. She did not approve. And now she heard that Karli was looking for new disciples, new devotees to the Goddess Sune! To Philomena, such worship involved unspeakable debaucheries..

    These tall folk and their strange ways! She shakes her head, es ee ex was for procreation, for the purpose of bringing hale and hearty halfling children into the world, a source of joy and laughter! She smiled at the thought of a homely hearth and loving kin, but, slowly, the smile fades from Philomena's lips. What right had she to entertain such thoughts?! Alone and friendless, justice was all she sought, justice for those that had slaughtered her village, her friends, her family - the vermin goblin-filth!

    How dare these depraved Sunites descend into bestial hedonism! It just was'nt right! Sighing heavily, she thinks of the path her life has taken, a course of vengeance, and self-denial. Who was she to have a right to happiness? Where was she when her family had fallen? Alone, and impotent, she could do nothing to save them.

    These Sunites did not understand the role of… (even in her thoughts she pauses)...physical intimacy. They undertook all sorts of perversions! Between man and wife, these things were understood, but between man and man, or woman and woman!? Philomena shakes her head, but finds her mind wandering...

    In her mind's eye she sees the form of her friend, Drudd, now travelling far from Narfell in lands unknown. The smile of her friend, lopsided but cheeky, fills her mind and she smiles. Drudd was a barbarian, and a warrior-woman halfling, but she was a good friend, and true companion. Despite herself, Philomena remembers the body of Drudd, naked in the Rawlinswood stream, the diamond-sparkling water glinting off her taut, muscular body, the short-cropped hair and strong jawline making her look more like a halfling boy than a woman....

    Wrapping her own arms around her body unconsciously, she recalls the feel of Drudd's muscular torso as the two embraced as friends. A tingle running down her spine, Philomena shivers, but it is not from the cold, nor from fear.

    And then, unbidden, the figure of Rag comes to her mind...dear Rag! Her closest friend in Narfell, she smiled at his hesitancy, his diffidence, and his outrageous claims of giant-slaying! Not that she doubted his courage, or his skill, but dear little Rag, a giant-slayer?! She chuckled. Rag had a good heart, a brave heart. In her daydreams she sees him, surrounded by children and grand-children, spinning tales of his adventurous youth. Behind him, and to one side, stands the shadowy figure of a halfling woman, her face is shrouded, unidentifiable, but what can be seen is the proud smile on the woman's face as she looks affectionately upon her husband and their children..

    Shaking her head free of idle thoughts, Philomena trudges on, through the unforgiving rain. There was work to be done. Evil-doers to be jailed, goblins to be slain. Rith Phoenixfeather had spoken of Lathander, and of hope. But in the driving rain, with enemies without and within the gates of Norwick, there seemed little hope to be had. But there was duty, and there was vengeance. The crimson tide swells and seems to engulf her, so much death, so many fallen comrades.

    Would hope come soon, uninvited, into her heart? Or would she continue to live for others, to live for duty, her heart as hard as the steel blades at her side...

  • ?

    Xp Given


  • Reviewed. XP Pending.


  • Philomena Sureshot Character Profile;

    She is a pretty ordinary halfling really.

    Ok her father and brother were murdered by goblins. She does'nt like them. In fact she has a fierce hatred burning in her heart. Also, the fact that her father locked her in the cellar to save her when the goblins attacked, especially as she is handy with a bow, is a bitter memory.

    She has the gift of the Sureshot family, being a talented marksman. Maybe its a genetic thing.

    Like many of the few survivors of Underbucket, her goblin-sacked halfling village, she is now a rootless wanderer.

    Her father and brother were in a kind of halfling militia, they guarded the borders of the Seven Shires (sorry, don't know Faerun that well, so made up this halfling enclave to the west). Philomena instead took up studentship under her uncle, Arrowroot Gubbins, a local oddball and ranger, something of a wild halfling-of-the-woods. He also, was slain by the goblins.

    Obviously she wants to prevent the same thing happening to norwick, having followed her brother here only to find he had been yes you guessed it slain by goblins.

    She carries a burden of duty. To destroy goblins and other evil scourges of the lands. I did say she was a ranger.

    Well, thats motivation, what about disposition?

    She is quick to judge and somewhat proud.

    She is fairly bright and very dextrous (dex now 19), but obviously small and weak.

    She likes a banter, and does not suffer fools gladly. She dislikes braggarts, and those who think all halflings are thieves.

    She is proud to be a halfling, a race that has NEVER been known to war on other races.

    She most decidedly serves the cause of GOOD!

    I suppose she can be a bit prim and proper.

    But she does enjoy a laugh, and particularly enjoys the company of other halflings, who she feels more at home with.


  • The young halfling woman paces the streets of the barbarian town. Blasted militia duty! And the rain, the relentless, freezing rain! It soaked her to the skin, plastering her mousey hair unflatteringly against her forehead. Trudging stoically on, Philomena scans her surroundings carefully as she patrols, alert and watchful. From beneath the furrowed brow, narrowed eyes peer out, mistrusting and suspicious. A casual observer might discern a halfling with a mission, but to the more astute, who cared to look deeper, they would see a damaged spirit, hardened and resentful. The itinerant population of Norwick made it difficult to really feel at home here, but the newly formed Halfling Defense League had lifted her spirits. To enjoy the company of halflings again like that! The camaraderie, the good cheer - it had reminded her of her home in happier times.

    How long ago was it now? She had been in Norwick for more than a year, and before that had scouted the lands with her brother for months, rootless, without kith or kin. And to arrive in this barbarian town to be greeted with news of his death…..her throat was too dry for more laments.

    She remembered well the day that her life was shattered..

    Sitting cross-legged at Arrowroot's side, the young Philomena listened to the wise old halfling teach her the healing properties of root and leaf. The old fellow sat there, legs crossed and supple as a young sapling, as his bald pate shone in the afternoon sun, and his gentle words of lore taught Philomena of wood and wilds. Around them the dragonflies buzzed in the warm afternoon, and the murmuring brook whispered in their ears.

    The first sign that something was amiss was the arrival of Rufus, her brother. He was training to be one of the "Bounders," the local halfling miltia, and had been patrolling the edges of the halfling lands known as the Seven Shires. Indeed, it was Jude her father who had founded the Bounders, upon his return from his travels as scout to an elven War Band. From his military service, he brought back wealth, the finest bow arm in the Seven Shires, and the worship of Corellon Larethian, the Elven Protector. And now Rufus called upon his name, "May Corellon protect us!" he gasped. "Philomena, Arrowroot!", he panted, pointing eastwards. "A goblin raiding party is on the way!"

    With a speed and grace belying his age, Arrowroot rose and faced the two youngsters. In a commanding voice, strong and sure, without a trace of fear, he spoke; "You two must return to the village, seek your father and help him in raising all able-bodied hands to the defense of Underbucket. I will stay and harry the goblins, seeking to buy enough time for your father to prepare the village's defenses." With a swift gesture of his arm, the old ranger silenced the objections of the younger halflings. "Go now, to Underbucket, with all speed. Go!" Philomena and Rufus looked on Arrowroot for the last time, and turned and ran for home.

    As she ran, the tears began to stream down Philomena's cheeks. She was sure she would not see Arrowroot again.

    Breathless, the two burst in on their father, secure in his study, poring over some old papers written in the elven tongue. Speaking quickly but with clarity, Philomena advised her father of the goblin raiding party, even now on its way to Underbucket. Looking earnestly into her beloved father's eyes, she was surprised to see a look of fear, panic almost, momentarily flit across his face. Taking a moment to compose himself, old Jude looked at his two children, waiting breathless and expectant for their father's commands. "The cellar," he said, "you two, get down there and retrieve the store of arrows. We will need them. Quickly!" he barked. Without stopping to think Philomena and Rufus raced down the cellar steps. As they made their way downwards, they were surprised to hear a sudden sound. The cellar trapdoor being slammed shut and bolted above their heads! With but the dim light illuminating their shocked faces, Philomena stared at Rufus as a slow but awful realisation began to dawn. "Father!" She cried, "let us out!"

    From beyond the trapdoor, came a quiet voice choking with grief. "I am sorry my children. Stay safe and hidden there, I will return when I can. For now I must raise the Bounders." "Father, father! No!" The screams and cries of the two young halflings went ignored, as above their heads they heard their father calling for all able-bodied halflings to rally to the defense of Underbucket.

    Trapped and helpless, brother and sister clung to each other for safety, fearing the worst. But why?! Why had their father locked them below ground? Philomena was the best shot in the village, and Rufus was a lively lad with a stalwart sword arm! Both had been trained in the martial traditions, Philomena as a ranger, and Rufus as a warrior sworn to join the Bounders upon reaching his age of majority. Ironically Rufus was only a few months away from his birthday, and his induction as a full member of the Underbucket militia. Incensed, he banged away with his bare fists on the trapdoor until they bled, screamed until his voice was hoarse. Sitting a on the bottom stair, Philomena stared at the ground, her head in her hands. "Sit down Rufus," she murmured in a voice heavy with the despair of defeat. "The village is preparing its defense, no-one can hear us now."

    The sounds that they heard that night, ears held to the trapdoor, would haunt their sleep, echo through their dreams for the rest of their lives. The screams, the sound of wickedly barbed goblin blades cutting through halfling flesh, the weeping and wailing. Until eventually, silence. Huddled in the corner of the cellar, in a state of bemused trauma, the two youngsters spent three days and three nights in the musty underground.

    On the fourth day, fearing they would surely pass away down there, they were startled to hear a gentle rapping coming from the trapdoor above.

    "Is anyone there?" came a soft voice. Looking up, not daring to believe that help had come, they watched as the trapdoor slowly lifted, the soft lantern light streaming down onto their upturned faces. An old halfling figure crouched above, his bushy sideburns white with age, his lined face a picture of concern. "Palto!" The two halflings shouted as one. It was their dear uncle, Jude's brother-in-law, the scholar and philosopher Palto Gassbag. Scrambling up to meet him, the three hugged as their sobs and cries filled the air, a mix of despair and joy. Slowly, the three limped out of the Sureshot's home, into the harsh and unforgiving light of day.

    The village of Underbucket was unrecognisable. The tiny hamlet was so-called because once, when a travelling human merchant had seen it, he had jested, "Call that a village! The whole thing would fit under a bucket!" And so it became Underbucket, home of the Sureshots for generations. But that was then. All that remained were smouldering ruins, here the bakery of Bill Bagshot, the timbers a blackened mass, there the smithy of old Lowie Hornblower, razed to the ground, the anvil silenced forever.

    In a daze the three halflings wandered the ruins, their silence a memorial to the dead.

    After burying what remains the three could find of their dead kinsman, they drew up a plan. Palto's books and letters indicated that the goblin raiding party must have come from the Rawlinswood, far to the East, from where word had come that evil humanoids were massing. "I will clean up my home here as best I can, and remain. I have but few years left, I shall tend to the graves of our brethren, and study my books. But for you two youngsters, there is nothing left for you here." The old halfling's voice was thick with sorrow.

    It was then that Philomena and Rufus had vowed revenge, although Palto disapproved. They quickly decided to travel west, to seek the goblins of the Rawlinswood. That day they both made a promise to Corellon Larethian, the Protector, that they would only cease their hunt when all evil humanoids had been erased from the face of Faerun, or when their own blood stained the lands, and death stayed their hands. And so both had come to Norwick. In another bitter blow, tragedy upon tragedy, Rufus had fallen soon after arriving. Always the firebrand, he had raced into the woods unprepared, unheeding of his sister's advice. Days later, Philomena had recovered his body. She was not surprised he had fallen. Her family was cursed, it would seem, each one would fall to goblins.

    But here in Norwick, perhaps there would be a new beginning. For she was in the militia now, and was quick with her bow. Her inability to help defend her home is the bitterest of memories to her, but perhaps here at last could be found redemption.

    And she, the last of the Sureshots, would remain. Her resolve steadfast, she prayed to Corellon Larethian to keep her alive, until the woods ran crimson with the blood of goblins. With no kin left, she prepares her bow for battle, he face unmoved as the inscrutable moon.


  • (Cross-post from "Norwick" Forum, dated Feb 04)

    Report from Philomena Sureshot, Militia Officer.

    Report Issue #3
    Incident #01 Gruff Goes Berserk

    I decided to check the Boarshead for any trouble, goodness knows that place can get a bit rough from time to time, i myself have slain a murderous half-orc in that bar. Checking out the small group of huddled travellers, i noticed from the corner of my eye that Gruff was carrying his glowing knife. Oh oh, i thought to myself, when he has that out, its trouble! Sure enough, the alcohol-addled letcher was taking drunken swipes at the assorted commoners! Ordering him to cease his attacks, i drew my bow and let fly! However, Barle stepped in and chased Gruff upstairs, no doubt to deal with him in his own way. Order was restored, although a few more will now look at Gruff warily!

    Incident #02 Animal Husbandry

    Ah the excitement of Militia life! As usual the domesticated beasts of Norwick are left to wander blithely out of their pens! But fear not, i have a way with animals and soon coaxed the errant beasts back into their confinement.

    Incident #03 Dressed to Kill

    Whilst overseeing the square, i spotted a stranger approaching. Something about him was strangely familiar, but it took one of the townsfolks prompting to realize why. The man was wearing the distinctive outfit of the Eastland Bandit! Quickly whisking out my trusty shortbow, i confronted the infiltrator, and demanded, "Are you a bandit?" Quickly, he denied it, claiming that he had bought the distinctive suit from the merchant Frago! He also added that it had cost him a pretty penny! Still, it was unclear whether Frago had commited any offense so i simply gave him a warning about selling stolen goods. I would like to point out that allowing the selling of bandit garb in Norwick could have fatal consequences! I am sure many of my militia comrades are perhaps not so patient and discrete as I, and we must be careful a misunderstanding like this does not end in tragedy!

    Incident #04 Halfling (and others) Innocent Until Proven Guilty

    Approaching me in town, a halfling named Buppi Bangelfen reported that a certain Ozymandias had stolen from him. Accompanying Buppi towards the well, i approached the one Buppi pointed out as Ozymandias. Unfortunately things soon descended into an avalanche of accusation and counter accusation, with an elf by the name of Tulith joining in with Ozymandias in accusing Buppi himself of thieving! I took them all to the barracks in an attempt to sort it out. There, however, each stood by their story. It seemed that at any rate none of the accused had actually made off with anything more substantial than a little food. Since the only evidence was conflicting testimony, i decided simply to put Ozymandias and Buppi on remand, with charges to be laid if any further accusations from trusted townsfolk are received.

    Appendix #01 Tall Tales

    In my patrols around Norwick i hear many strange tales. Some may be worthy of further investigation, some are surely fables! Here are a few;

    A townsfolk claimed to have seen an eight foot tall blue skinned woman, proclaiming herself to be a Goddess, and spraying fireballs around the North Gate.
    Another claimed the lands close to Peltarch are infested by giant lizards.
    A third claimed that the former Captain of Militia, my friend Stevan Jille had been afflicted with Lycanthropy, and was being cared for in Spellweaver Keep. The latest news is that he has been cured of this dire affliction.
    There has been talk of ogres at the south gates, and even giants further afield!
    One strange fellow, who bizarrely claimed to live in a crypt, said his home had been invaded by a vampire. My blood ran cold at the mere thought, recalling how several times i had been made aware of vampires walking the town unseen.

    Philomena Sureshot
    Militia Lieutenant of Norwick.


  • (Cross-post from "Norwick" Forum, dated Jan 23)

    Report Issue #2
    Incident #01

    A human male was observed casting spells near the well, with predictable results. He responded to my order to desist but was generally uncooperative. Eventually i managed to get his name - Ashan Nottiam. I warned him against further offenses, but as order was restored to town, took no further action.

    Incident #02

    Intervened to protect a citizen being chased by a rat from the storehouse. The rat was subject to summary execution.

    Incident #03

    The halfling Farthes approached me in town, breathless and panicked, with tales of bugbears and fallen comrades in the North Rawlinswood. Arming myself swiftly, i followed the halfling and his companions. The bugbear was subject to summary execution. The fallen comrade, Gregor was restored to health easily, for he had not passed from this life, he was merely incapacitated.

    Incident #04

    An elf, Relm Arrowney, was displaying magical effects in town, no doubt a result of wild magic. Yellow clouds (and an ominous noise!) followed the elf around. However no ill effects could be discerned, and the malady passed after resting.

    Incident #05

    Approaching the well from the east, i saw Rashid and the paladin known as Killthorn Tal by the well. Killthorn was obviously in distress, coughing and unwell. Over him there was a pale skinned elven figure, later identified as Elendel Baenre. This Elendel was making remarks, gloating over Killthorn's distress, and the affliction on the town of Norwick. Such sentiments clearly marked him out as an enemy of Norwick. Approaching him, i demanded to know his name, and what he knew of the evils afflicting the town. Straight away he threatened me with murder, not once, but twice, firstly threatening to slice my head off, and secondly to throw me down the well!

    Sadly i must here report that the militia Eledaar Darkpyre witnessed the above scene, including the explicit threats on my life, and walked away. It would seem Eledaar believes that demanding to know the name of someone who has threatened you with murder is some sort of bully boy tactic. Militia members should provide backup and support to each other at all times, i should have thought. Perhaps Eledaar has since resigned from the militia. Perhaps, like many, he also has loyalties elsewhere.

    Left to face the threat alone, i showed Elendel my militia papers to establish my authority. He refused to divulge any information, even his name. However,Toshiro Hito and Rashid nearby both recognised this Elendel Baenre, allegedly a former drow, now polymorphed into elf form by a wizard! Both attested to the danger he presents.

    After more threats, Elendel put his helmet on, drew his weapons, and vanished into thin air.

    Postscript

    Captain Braeth, in the course of my enquiries about town, i been advised of many complaints against militia members. I have resolved to demonstrate to the citizens of Norwick that the militia are above suspicion, and that we are there to protect the citizenry, and not to threaten or assault them. News has also reached my ear of Kanen's resignation, in connection with allegations against yourself, allegations of a serious nature. I need to speak with you to resolve this matter at your earliest convenience. Again, i assure you that my resolve is set to restore the good name of the Militia in these dangerous and confusing times.

    Signed;
    Philomena Sureshot
    Militia, and Defender of Norwick


  • (Cross-post from "Norwick" Forum, dated Jan 17)

    Report from Philomena Sureshot, Militia Probationer.

    Report Issue #1
    Incident #00001
    Wandering out on my morning routine, i stepped outside the Boarshead only to find spells going off all round, several townspeople stood around as if stunned. Trying to get my bearings and determine the cause, I see an unidentified elf casting magic. The next thing i know, i am struck by an electrical bolt, which nearly kills me! I retreat into the clothing store to heal, and when i come out the elf is gone. Several eyewitnesses were present, but no details of the elf's appearance were forthcoming.

    Incident #00002
    Whilst doing my routine patrols of the town i turned the corner by the well and headed towards the boarshead. Gathered there were three individuals having some sort of heated discussion.
    One Call Sanner approached me and reported a recent thieving incident. I called him and his two friends to the barracks to make statements.
    The three were Call Sanner, Andrio and Vani Undt.
    Call Sanner prompted Andrio, as he was the one they allegedly stole from.

    :there follows an attached statement
    I was standing just south of Frago's, when i noticed two men acting suspiciously, bumping into me. I checked my pack and found some goods missing. I confronted the two men, who said their names were Irik and Blackwind. Blackwind was a heavy-set human clothed with a cream hood, and Irik was a slim, dark-skinned elf with red hair, dressed in black. They admitted they were thieves and Irik went to give the goods back. Then Blackwind was caught in another attempt to steal. The two then fled the scene.
    Signed: Andrio (Paladin of Harlem).

    Call Sanner and Vani Undt also testified to this description of the events.

    Signed: Philomena Sureshot, Militia.


  • Entry #1 Wild Magic

    The town has been cursed with wild magic!

    Garbled rumors have it that a dark figure of evil arose at the well and cursed Norwick! It sounds a fanciful tale, but since the poisoning, the well has come to be regarded suspiciously by many. Now why should the Norwick well be a focus of evil? Such questions are beyond my meagre wit i fear, but perhaps i will seek out the mages of Spellweaver Keep and enquire as to their researches. Although ignorant of wizardry, i know one or two who are quite committed to that discipline. I remember well my meetings with the halfling Ignacious. A funny fellow - known as Iggy - he cuts a strange figure, a halfling with the powers of a mighty wizard! I hope he is safe. I must seek him out.

    The wild magic is spectacular! Even those not versed in the mystic arts can find themselves summoning forth powerful magics, as i found out! Confused by all the activity, as spells fizzled and popped across the town square, i kneeled to utter a short prayer to my patron deity Corellon Larethian, to calm my mind. As i arose the tingling began in my fingers. Seconds later a beam of cold erupted from my hands and struck a young halfling wandering by! Concerned, i rushed over to find, to my utmost relief, that he was barely hurt. I kindly broke the large icicle that had formed on his nose! Ouch!

    The danger was clear at any rate, so i decided to make no more prayers! Exactly what it is that sets off the wild magic remains a mystery to me. It is best to be very careful around such strangeness!

    The local authorities seem to agree with this. Jore has sent out a letter outlining a move to martial law in town, and requesting that all able warriors report to Stevan of the Militia, or to Vashere of the Legion. I swiftly made up my mind to pledge my bow to the service of the town! Seeking out Jore, i made my intentions clear. However, i am going off barbarians! The big oaf at first pretended not to see me, because i am so small. "Who is there?" he said, quickly looking round after i had quite clearly addressed him! This transparent and frankly insulting jest seems to be thought greatly humorous by all of the lumbering human oafs. A halfling's sense of humor is not so belittling nor patronising. I would like to think well of the tall folk, but they don't make it easy. If they are'nt calling you "little one" all the time, they are accusing you of being a thief! Still, best not to complain. Long ago i resolved to represent the best of the halfling race, and to encourage those of my kin to act similarly. Nothing incenses me more than a halfling thieving from innocent townsfolk! I could not find Stevan that day, no doubt a fellow like him has many commitments.

    The next day i arose late (i find myself keeping strange hours lately, it must be the stress), and set out in search of Stevan. Having no luck i returned to the Boarshead for a spot of lunch. Now the food in the Boarshead, what i can i say? I certainly shan't get fat on their stingy gruel! Really, they must appoint a halfling chef. Of all the races, halflings have the greatest appreciation for the sensual pleasures of life.

    In the afternoon, i become embroiled in an altercation with a half-orc. Gruesome beasts they are, kin to goblins, and for the life of me i don't understand why they are allowed in town! This one went on quite a rampage before being slain, ironically by another of his own kind. I found Stevan soon after and faithfully reported the earlier disturbance. Since the beast had been slain, and in self-defense, the issue was settled.

    Then and there i made my offer of service to Stevan. He accepted. I am now a militia probationer, reporting to Braeth! I have met this fellow just the once, but he seems a goodly type.

    In more ways than one, it seems, Wild Magic has entered my life. Here i am now, sworn to protect this town, officially accepted into the militia, little Philly Sureshot!

    I hope i have done the right thing….


  • Ascending the human-sized stairs with an effort, the young halfling woman sighs wearily. So much had been happening lately, it had all been a little too much for her. The town was under attack, not only from bandits and goblins, and the evil Vinessa and her lieutenants, but also by forces more sinister, subtle - shrouded in mystery.

    Unlocking the door to the Boarshead bedroom she now calls home, she looks round carefully. She had long ago learnt to watch her back in this place. Swiftly entering the room, she locks the door behind her and finally slumps into her chair, hand in hands.

    She was neither spy nor scholar. The events of the last week had made her head spin, a confusing tumult of events which threatened to overwhelm her. How on earth could she make sense of it all?!

    She had been targeted today, that much was clear, targeted by the evil which threatened her adopted home. She had thought she was anonymous, another lone traveller struggling for survival, and no threat to the awesome powers vying for control of norwick.

    So much to think about, and she was finding it so hard to concentrate. Having joined the militia as a probationer, she was surprised at the amount of strain the role was putting her under. She used to enjoy the dramatic incidents which livened up the daily routines in Norwick, but now, even leaving the Boarshead filled her with trepidation.

    There was only one thing for it. She had to collect her thoughts and start a journal. Only by keeping notes could she hope to fathom the depths of the conspiracies threatening Norwick. But what if something were to happen to her, could she let what secrets she knew go to the grave with her? No, she must write them down, keep her speculations safe and secure. Not knowing who to trust, her secrets would be kept safely hidden in her journal. Perhaps one day she would trust another to read it. But for now, she thought, keep it safe, and keep it secret.

    Pulling out a sheaf of paper from her desk drawer, the halfling begins to write, slowly at first, concentrating, then more swiftly, her clever fingers becoming quicker and more assured as her thoughts order themselves…