Day 0: Finally, after many weeks on the road we have reached the frontier of the Stolen Lands. Beyond this point there are no more roads, just a rolling expanse of unexplored wilderness. Supposedly, our purpose is to map these unclaimed lands and bring justice to the bandits that prey upon the simple folk that scratch a modest living from the dirt.
In truth, our charter is not my sole reason for joining this expedition. A year ago, my old uncle Barnard Button (the renowned gnomish archeologist) traveled to the Stolen Lands to uncover a forgotten ruin that he believed lay buried beneath the earth. He stopped writing several months ago and his sister (my mother) grew so frantic with worry that I volunteered to go after the old codger and bring him home.
Travel also provides ample opportunities to spread the word of the gnomish trickster gods Shunlock and Leevans, although I suspect my companions grow weary of my pranks.
I should mention my travelling companions, as they are indeed a motley band. The spokesman of the company calls himself Ashok Grimm, a half-orc whose savage appearance and muscular build makes him seem quite menacing - until you hear him speak. He is softly spoken and impeccably well mannered. One night around the campfire, he told us how he had been raised in an orphanage and sends half his share of any treasure to support that worthy institution. He even purchased some colorful buttons from my stock as he thought the children would enjoy playing with them.
Arya Mornmist is a feisty wood elf girl. She's thirty years older than me, yet still considered an adolescent in elvish society - a fact the final member of our party is constantly reminding her of. While Arya is brimming with youthful enthusiasm, B'ran the high elf is crusty with age, his crooked back bent under the weight of the long centuries that he has lived. Despite his advanced years, he remains a powerful sorcerer - or so he claims, when he's not grumbling about the food or the weather or his feet or any number of other things.
Day 1: A few hours after enter the Stolen Lands, Arya returned from her ranging to report having spotted an old hill fort rising over the sweeping plain. We approached warily, wondering if this lonely stronghold could have been claimed by the bandits that we sought. The closer we got, the more apparent the fort's state of disrepair became. A crude sign nailed to the gate announced to weary travelers (such as ourselves) that we had reached 'Oleg's Trading Post' and the alluring scent of home cooking wafted from within.
We entered and introduced ourselves to Oleg and his lovely wife Svetlana. Ashok produced our charter and our hosts expressed great relief that the Sword Lords of Restov had finally acted on their many pleas for aid. Oleg explained how a group of bandits had started visiting the trading post to demand tribute to someone called the Stag Lord, whoever that might be. Some jumped up ruffian, no doubt - we'll soon put him in his place (or rather, Ashok will). Until now, the couple had no choice but to comply with the brigand's demands, but we'll soon turn the tables on these brigands and their self-proclaimed king.
Day 2: The following dawn, Ashok roused us early to prepare an ambush for the bandits.
Oleg had told us of the lecherous stares the ruffians directed towards his beautiful wife and hoping to use this to our advantage, I cast a spell to make myself look exactly like her. Not even Oleg could tell us apart, a fact that the real Svetlana was not impressed by! Oh dear, I hope I haven't caused any marital strife for the poor fellow.
Meanwhile, Arya took position atop the wall to watch out for our guests and Ashok hid behind the gate, where he would not be seen by the bandits as they entered the fort. Nobody seemed to know where B'ran was, he had disappeared right after breakfast, grumbling about having been made to get up so early in the morning.
Arya produced warbling bird call, the pre-determined sign that the bandits had arrived. A half-dozen swarthy men swaggered through the gate, as villainous a band of rogues as any you'd find loitering in the back alleys of Korvosa.
"Your taxes are overdue and the Stag Lord aint' a patient man," the ringleader said, pausing to spit at the ground by Oleg's feet. The grunt beside him was busy picking his teeth with the point of a rusty dagger, "Best cough up before I start looking for something else to take instead of your gold."
I could feel the men behind him undressing me with their eyes and simpered maidenly. A few of them grinned, revealing mouths full of crooked, brown teeth. All I had to do was lure one of the dumb brutes into the stable and cast Charm Person while they were struggling with their britches. So far, everything was going exactly to plan....
And then B'ran woke up.
He rose from where he had napping in the bed of an old wagon, disturbed from his slumber by raised voices in the yard.
"Quit your yammering!" the irritable old elf cried, flapping his wrinkled hands, "Can't you see I'm trying to sleeeeeeeeeep?"
Several of the brigands immediately collapsed, snoring peacefully as the rest struggled to grasp what had just happened. Ashok was already moving, he cut down two men before the others even knew he was there! Arya appeared atop the wall and began sniping down with her bow, forcing the remaining goons into cover. Two men tried to reach her, but she must have scattered ball bearings on the steps for I saw them trip and tumble in a most comedic fashion. B'ran tried to climb down from the wagon and tripped over his own robes, impaling one of the sleeping bandits with his sword as he fell - he could just as easily have killed himself, the clumsy old fool!
"I meant to do that!" he claimed, dusting himself off.
We soon defeated the bandits and secured the survivors in the storeroom while we decided what to do with them. Our charter is pretty clear on that issue: "death by sword or by rope" doesn't leave much room for interpretation, yet Arya and I argued that even men such as these deserved a chance to redeem themselves. Ashok could not be swayed however and B'ran didn't seem to care one way of the other. In exchange for the promise of a clean execution, the prisoners revealed the whereabouts of their camp, which I added to the map we are making.