3. On the road again: A relatively odd vacation

On the road again: A relatively odd vacation


  • Foreword:
    I, Ting E'leftynen, am about to embark on a small journey to get some things out of my system. What you are about to read is the journal I am going to keep durring this time in weekly installments. It is difficult to tell if anyone will be reading this at any time, but one can always hope to add famous writer to the repetoir.


  • ((I'm a liar))
    @2eda344816:

    _Day: 17
    Hour: About lunctime

    Well we've been tracking the stolen caravan carts for several days now. These bandits must have been really desperate to go so far out of their territory. Funny thing is, this is the direction we were headed, we're just using backroads. Our little group of escapees has increased in number and we have one horse now. It's a warhorse, beautiful thing. I stole it from the caravan in the middle of the night and snuck it back to our group. The only person who can ride it is the mother of suzie and frederick. (I found out her name is Lucretia, she's a paladin of helm)
    Anyways, our group is about half capable fighters, and the other half old people and children. We're about twelve in number. The best fighters of the group are myself, Lucretia, a warrior named Cannix, and three real characters:
    –Lawrence, the brain, he really has a knack for being rediculously stupid. I think it's best that we give him his axe and have him guard us from the rear. He only got away because his friend dragged him off from cleaving the bandits left and right before he was killed.
    --Frederick, the insecure, he's lawrenece's friend. This guy has the ego of a dying fruit-fly. I can't believe he ever made it through the bardic college. He's a peltarchan (ian?) through and through, born and raised there. But boy, he's so unsure of himself!
    --Molly... I don't know what to write about her, she's... pretty full of herself. I mean she's pretty good looking and the guys can't stop drooling over her, but she KNOWS she's good looking. If there's anyone who I really can't stand it's someone who's capable, good-looking, and FULL OF THEMSELF... oh I hate sorcerors... hate them so much.

    Back on topic, our dandy little group is going to be following the caravan while lucretia guides the older people and children to a nearby monestary we can see on a mountain about a days walk (for the children) to our right. She'll then gallop back to us with whatever help she can muster and we'll plan from there.

    Lunch break over, time to go._


  • ((everybody [ if anybody ] that is reading this, should know that finals have been bogging me down, I'll finish on wed and thurs when I'm done))


  • ((sorry for delay I had lost access to my comp for a couple days I'll be catching up over the next couple days))
    @24a7479d4a:

    Day: 13
    Hour: Undiscernable. I'd guess around three in the afternoon.

    Well since I last wrote a lot has happened so I'll start from where I left off.

    Ok, so I had just finished my rapid addition to my journal when I heard two muffled yelps a short distance away from the ring of carts. Those must have been the guards, but how? I knew the two that were on duty that night were no second-rate fighters, or at least didn't look it. What could possibly be approaching the sleeping caravan? Well it wasn't time for me to find out, so I jumped back into the covered wagon of my unknowing patrons and softly removed the lid of my barrel.

    Normally it wouldn't have concerned me if the approaching bandits made off with a lot of the gold in the caravan, but right before I climbed into my hiding place I heard their voices. It wasn't loud, but it wasn't too quiet to mask what they were saying as they must have been in the next cart over:

    The first bandit whispered to the other, "Hey Joe, there's kids in here… this aint no merchant caravan, they're movin off south."

    The second bandit, undoubtedly Joe replied, "Great, they'll have all their possesions with them. These kids'll fetch a high price as slaves, tell the others to kill the parents first so we don't get any trouble, then we can dump the bodies and make off with the carts."

    I couldn't help being frozen in thought of the little girl (nicknamed suzie) and her brother (frederick) whose parents owned the cart I was aboard. They weren't mine, it really wasn't my duty to protect them, but at the same time I couldn't let them just be sold off. And I felt I owed the parents a little bit having stowed away on their cart for a week and I had planned more.

    This was about where my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of one of the bandits crawling aboard my cart. I was still standing outside my barrel but in the darkness I don't think he noticed me. I could see his silhouette in the moonlight as he carefully tried to locate the couple who owned the cart.

    I didn't think, it was only afterwards that I could see that I had pierced straight through the man's wind-pipe with my rapier. He let out a short breath and collapsed, much to my dismay, right across the couple. They both jumped up with a start. The mother leaping to where she knew her sword was with an outburst of, "The 'ells?!" The father was apparantly a more tallented singer than I had at first thought, as he chanted out and cast a light spell with a quick motion.

    The next twenty seconds seemed like an eternity. I put my finger to my lips as they both exclaimed at my presence and the dead bandit's presence. The woman crouched instinctively with her sword in hand as did I. The man however did not seem to have quite the reflexes; a hail of crossbow bolts tore through the cart's cover. He dropped like a sack of bricks to the floor of the cart, his light spell instantly vanishing. The remaining survivors of the caravan had awoken at the shouts and many more sounds were heard from carts, mostly far away.

    The woman was in shock, her husband had just been obliterated by crossbow bolts and she was not even awake yet. The way these bandits operated, I knew we didn't have any time. I grabbed my pack from my barrel and lept from the back of the cart.

    A quiet but urgent "Wait" followed me out.

    Moments later, the woman lept out behind me with her sword hastily shoved in her belt and tied around her waist. She also had her children, one in each arm. The children were no small babies, but only a mother can understand the rush of strength in such a situation.

    She blurted out quietly, "I don't know who you are, but you saved my lif-"

    I cut her off by pointing away from the caravan, and with an exchanged nod we sprinted away as fast as we could. I must tell you, I regretted having woken the family for a few moments as we ran. The screams and shouts coming from back at the besieged caravan tore at my heart.

    Well we have to move now. I've taken much to long to write this little account. We are 5 in number (not counting children) that escaped from the caravan and reunited. We're tracking the stolen carts through the hills. I will write more later.


  • @e80d53944a:

    _Day:6
    Hour: Midnight, maybe later
    Well I found a good lantern to read by and pretty much everyone is out cold so It's a good time to write to my hearts content. The two night watchmen are snoozing (a whole new level of safe that makes me feel) and the only things left awake are the two dogs that are chained a small distance up and down the road to bark out a warning. It's a rather smart technique, though it's seen no real use as we've only been passed by a wagon with some crazy gnomes in it one night. Their vehicle wasn't pulled by any horses, but made all manners of noise and confused me to no end. I wasn't too surprised when we found them broken-down on the side of the road the next day. I contemplated hopping caravan to them, except shortly after contemplating this, a large boom and flying gnomes changed my mind.

    The cart I ride in has a rather plesant family as the owners, I didn't see most of them earlier, because the child was in the children's wagon in the middle of the caravan and the mother was busy guarding the caravan from horseback. Her husband, the singing man I wrote about earlier is a scraggly little man and rather timid. An interesting pair he and his wife make. It seems most of the family's wealth is put into the mother's horse and armor, as she looks quite the professional mercenary. I met their child one day when I was taking a breather out of my barrel. She's quite curious and frankly I don't worry about her telling her parents about-

    That's the dogs barking. Something's on it's way, I'd better pack up before the watchmen wake._

    There is a break in her writing then it is continued hastily afterward.

    @e80d53944a:

    This does not bode well. I heard a yelp only seconds after I heard the dog barking. I'm going back to my barrel before anything bad goes down.


  • In horribly bumpy handwriting the first entry is as follows:
    @f925695f4a:

    Day: 1
    Hour: About dusk, hard to tell.
    We're about four hours out of peltarch. I got myself all equiped for a journey with everything I could     scribbles out a word possibly need minus everything I forgot. I crawled out of the barrel that I used to get onto this caravan a little scribbles out another word bit ago and no one seemed to notice. The two sailors I payed to sneak my barrel onto this cart seem to have made the brilliant decision of sticking me on the little dinky and dusty one in the back that bounces a scribbles out yet another word lot. Oh well, the trip will be free as far as I can get without being caught. I've no idea where we're headed but I'm sure that's just going to add to the fun, right? Well at least the driver of my cart has a plesant singing voice and my cart is covered so no one's going to see me climbing in and out of my barrel. That's about all I have to say from four hours.