The Tales of Ronie Benthendt
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Ronie walked the long road from Peltarch to Norwick. Glad to be away from the large city, though not preferring Norwick by much. However, he knew there were some rocks he could mine safely without too much fear of disturbance. His pack was weighted down with his new picks, and he was ready to get to work. The Captain had suggested some of the members of the Order learn crafting, to become self-sufficient, and he decided to take action.
He came to the wall around Norwick, scowling a bit, and went through the town, past the glaring guardsmen who seemed eager to for someone to beat on. Out the gate on the other side, He headed a little way into the woods to the west and found a suitable rock, avoiding the area given to the snakes. Looking around, he found a rock that he thought would be suitable, and begin to slowly chip away at it. The returns for his work were meager, but he packed away whatever looked workable.
Exhausting the first vein, he went on to another. While chipping away at it, he heard some movement behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a bloody elf standing and watching. "'ello," Ronie called back, still focused on his mining, but wondering what the elf wanted.
The elf asked him what he was doing, and Ronie told him. Suddenly, he heard an object whistling through the air, and the elf fell to the ground. A quick glance at the elf showed that he was beyond help. Peering through the trees, Ronie could see the shape of the murdering bugbear. Muttering, Ronie dropped his pick and drew his battleaxe and shield, ready for battle.
The weight of his pack made movement slow and difficult, so Ronie called on the strength of the Lord of Battles to help bear the load. Tempus' name on his lips, he charged the bugbear, towershield before him to block the whizzing darts coming toward him. He brought his axe down in a mighty blow, drawing blood, but the creature drew blood as well.
The creature backed away, perhaps rethinking its strategy, allowing Ronie to quickly heal some of his wounds. As Ronie finished the a dart struck his greaves, though not penetrating enough to wound. It seemed the creature was hoping to injure his leg, crippling him to gain an advantage. Not wanting to give it the opportunity to throw more darts, Ronie charged the creature again with his axe, trading more blows before the creature again backed away.
Bleeding badly by this time, as was the bugbear, Ronie called on Tempus to heal his wounds again, and beseeched him for some of his battle prowess. He could feel Tempus strengthening him and guiding his movements, and he moved back in with renewed confidence. In his rush to close, he let his guard down enought that one of the darts struck his leg. He nearly fell, but ignored the pain screaming in his leg and continued his attack.
Having lost a lot of blood, and beginning to weary, Ronie feared the battle, and his own life, would be lost. Letting out a mighty war whoop, Ronie put all of his strength into a last swing. It struck true, splitting the monster's chainmail and cracking its ribs. The beast staggered forward, threating another blow, then stumbled to the ground. Ronie looked it over to make sure it was dead, then begin to remove any items of value.
"Thank ye fer yer strength," he prayed, "and honor me foe, fer 'e fought well." Then he turned to the corpse of the elf, and said another quick prayer as he began to dig his grave. "I ain't sure what god this fella be followin', but take 'im 'ome and give 'im rest if that be what 'e wants." Taking what he could carry, he put the body into the hole and covered it carefully.
Sweaty, tired, covered in blood and dirt, and with a pack he could hardly lift, Ronie headed back toward Norwick. As he came into sight of the walls, he grinned his usual cocky grin. "It be a good day. Aye," he said to himself, as he went to sell his goods and have a good meal before heading back to Peltarch to begin labor at the forge.