He claims that Father Trantle survived the invasion and still lives, dwelling among those unfortunate slaves, our kinsmen who labor under the lash of the giants.” We have a rumor from Darlon Lea, our exiled ranger lord. Bryn presses her elvish friend with questions about his months in the fading feylands of Dimwood Forest, but he only shakes his head.Īfter the barmaid pours up ciders and collects coins, Parn admits, “Not for cider and Flan-speech did I seek you out tonight, friends, but a quick trot back into those occupied lands from which you only just returned. “We have had a few adventures without you, elf!” Ansgar says as Parn and Gundoriel join the rangers at their table. “I thought we might never see you again,” she gushes in the elvish tongue. “May I present Gundoriel Thingolin, back from fey Dimwood!”īryn leaps up and throws her arms around grey elf priest. “I found this pour lost elf wandering the camp,” the cadofyth announces. Trailing behind the commander, stepping lightly through the door and into the light, comes a grinning elf. The patrons cheer and clap the officer on the back. The captain fixes his stern gaze upon the young ranger, “Best pour me a cider before I report the lot of you to the constables.” A devious smirk spreads across his face. “Alcohol consumption without a writ! Speaking in the Flannish tongue!” he scolds the crowded room. Every patron of the establishment recognizes the stern, scowling face of Cadofyth Parn, a commanding officer of the Army of the Liberation. Customers freeze in fear their laughter and conversation falls silent. Ansgar leaps to his feet, nearly tipping the table. He strikes up a lively reel, but the music stops abruptly when the wooden door of the speakeasy flings open. Squint’s fingers find the strings of his shalm. “You can’t pay for your own cups, cuss, quit saying you’ll pay for us,” chides the gnomish bard. “Another round for the heroes!” he motions to his friends. He quaffs his third cider and pounds the mug on the tabletop to summon the maid for more. “Cause he knows our tongues are making sport of him behind his back,” Ansgar laughs.
Now he says we can no more speak our own tongue?” “Bad enough that I need writ from the governor what to drink a single cider. “Neumann wants a rebellion,” Bryn insists.
THE LIBERATION OF GEOFF The Giant Slayers part 1: Finding Flerd (Campaign Notes by Thomas Kelly) A campaign based on Living Greyhawk Geoff and Against the Giants.
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