Times are hard. About fifty years ago the People of the Mountains were driven out by an invasion of giants. The plains were poorly prepared for the influx of new arrivals, and there was strife and bloodshed. Even now the lands are unsettled and often lawless. Worse, the vile creatures of the mountain caverns are grown bold and often plague the lands of men. Some heroes help to hold back the tide here and there; others seek for lost treasure, either to trade to more distant, more settled lands in exchange for necessities, or simply to secure wealth and prestige for themselves in a struggle to survive.
Some are born to greatness; some achieve greatness through their own efforts; some have greatness thrust upon them. And not a few fail to qualify under any of the above headings, and are simply too muttonheaded to give in to despair. Such are the Fighting Ignorants, a loose assembly of underachievers who somehow know that if they only had the chance they could reshape the world in accordance with their expert judgement, and build a fairer, kinder, more just society on the ruins of the old.
Our story begins on the edge of a town named Sullwasser, near to the hostile foothills where the giantkind hold sway and foul creatures are forever abroad. Here a small detachment of the Fighting Ignorants are on the road engaged in the most mundane of errands, escorting a band of travellers to the nearby village of Kullen. The pay is low - enough to cover expenses and keep the wolf from the door for a few more days - but it is all they can manage for now. Before them the dusty trail winds for perhaps eight or nine miles to the questionable safety of the palisaded village, but it is for certain that they will all feel happier to have some stout timbers and seasoned watchmen between them and the terrors of the night. And it won’t hurt to get the stink of animal sweat out of their nostrils or the creak of wagon wheels out of their ears, either, or to cut the trail dust with a jack of sour ale.
Not a problem - you can carry your halberd in one hand but need to sling your shield before going into melee (or drop your halberd to use a one-handed weapon).
I’ll be using the hand ax and planning on most of the damage coming in long range. Of course if it doesn’t I may have to reevaluate my focus on defense.
Say… do you fellow wizards mind if I take a peek into your spellbooks?
Can I try to learn a few of your spells? Perhaps if we are to survive out here amongst the ignorants we must pool our resources and form a brain trust!
That said, Ishtar will try to stay towards the middle of the convoy- he has ranged weapons, and absolutely NO desire for combat.
“Now, that’s how you can tell a dedicated guard; sitting on his ass trying to find a comfortable way to sleep in the wagon he’s guarding. Maybe after we’re dead they’ll steal him with the rest of the goods and he can surprise them in their lair. On second though, is there any more room in that wagon?”
I’ll walk along the front of the caravan, shield in hand, bow strung and slung across my shoulders, and sword in sheath. I’ll also keep my eyes open for tracks on the path! Giant tracks ought to be easy to spot.
I’ll move near the back of the group with Oredigger77. I’m sure they could use the company. Plus it’s easier to pick off a lone sentry from behind than a couple of people.
(Secretly doing a happy dance that I just made it in.)
I’ll be near the middle of the pack. BTW, I took sleep as my spell for the day.
"Oh, and I agree with Ishtar that during the slower moments we wizards should share our spellbooks with each other. The more options we all have, the better.
Excellent- Ishtar will try to see what he can do with Hoopy’s spellbook, allowing **Hoopy **the same privilege with his own.
He eyes Auto’s request and sighs, “There’s a reason you’re the thief and I’m the wizard. And it’s not because of my excellent athletic abilities…”
Back to quickly scouring Hoopy’s Book!