The Inn

Every small town, village and fort has some kind of place for travelers to stay the night. In some places that we have been through the inns haven't been much more than a barn where we slept in the straw along side our horses. Really it was just as well because such accommodations are cheap and not having much in the way of monies we have been forced to supplement our fare with work. This has been hard on Sir Frederikson. He is not selfish or arrogant but he has always had all the gold to buy anything he has needed or wanted. He is starting to adjust. Last night for the first time he bartered for our lodgings and did a good job. For a two night stay we will muck out the barn and re-straw the stalls. In addition to the two nights we will receive 10 pounds of dried venison and 50 pounds of oats. The oats are a little old but the horses will eat them well and I think if I soak and rinse them before boiling they will be edible for us as well.

Savages! Savages! ...

 

One of the advantages of long trips and of riding horses is that it gives a person plenty of time to contemplate and to think things through. It is also nice to have Sir Frederikson along as he is well read and educated. It is nice to have someone of that caliber to bounce ideas and concepts off of. I posed him a question. I said, “Can we be proud that we are not blood thirsty like the savage? That we are civilized? or if we looked closely, would we find that the reason we are not blood thirsty savages is that we are incapable of such a sanguine nature? That we have really not overcome anything, but are lily livered yellowbellies so far below the savage that we can’t even achieve his thirst for violence and blood?”            

A King To Be

Being at Belfour castle has been good. As I mingled with the inhabitants of the place, I sought information on the road ahead and on our destination. I didn’t find out anything that I didn’t already know or suspect. As one draws closer to the wild, the settlements become further and further apart and often less friendly to strangers. We weren’t much of a caravan when we set out on this mission to claim Sir Frederikson’s lands and we are now considerably diminished. We have a donkey, a three legged dog and enough warrior rations (a mix of dried meat, fruit and fermented grains) to last us until we reach Risoria, Sir Frederikson’s inheritance. Despite the situation, I have a good feeling about the road ahead. Frederikson has an indomitable spirit and seems to have renewed his resolve to give this enterprise all of his might and will. He will become the count of Risoria and restore it to it’s former glory.

In my traveling I have had the privilege of learning from many great individuals- simple farmers and craftsmen to great lords and kings. They all shared a spark, a love of life and adventure. Frederikson isn’t much to look at, a skinny young man in a rumpled mud splattered cloak and riding a skittish horse, but I have seen that spark in him.

It is my duty as his only servant to gather men for our journey. It will be perilous but it is nothing compared to the the task that lays ahead of taming the land that has been left desolate and become infested with goblins and thieves. If we hope to accomplish anything we will need man power, strong allays and true friends.

Marie

Leaving Again

Jord has been teaching me to fight.  We managed to procure some supplies for our journey, and Jord took it upon himself to buy me a sword.  It is a long thin sword called a rapier.  Apparently taken from a pirate some years back found its way inland to a Belfour armory.  I have never had the arm strength to use the broadswords or battle axes of my own people, but this is as light as a feather.  I am already developing callouses on my hands.
We left Belfour castle this morning, and as I write this we are riding still.  Spook makes it hard to write with all his shying.  I am apprehensive about our prospects going forward, but there is no other option for me.  I either claim my inheritance, or I live a beggar for the rest of my life.  To be completely honest the prospect was beginning to look quite inviting until I met Marie.  I have found a new source of motivation for taking my county.  I suppose I shall have to be a very successful count indeed to turn the head of a Dukes's daughter.
More than likely I am a fool going to a fools death.  Jord says it is better to die a fool chasing the clouds than a wise man lying in the dirt.  I have no idea what he means but it does sound quite poetic.

The Tortoise wasn't very fast but Tommy found him to be a very reliable steed. If fed well it could keep up its slow plodding for days going day and night.
Eventually he planned on building a small house on its back. Tommy, being a wanderer by nature liked waking up to new surroundings every morning.

Have you ever been caught in a rainstorm for three days? It was miserable to say the least. The cowardly deserters made off with our rain gear, along with most of the food. I was lucky enough to bring down a deer with my sling. I dried the meat over the fire, it was hard and really not all that good, but it gave us much needed energy. I made a rain coat of sorts out of the skin for Sir Frederikson. He is small and unaccustomed to exposure, and was suffering greatly from the cold. The skin smelled bad and looked worse, but it kept him warm and dry. I was quite impressed with Sir Frederikson despite the miserable circumstances we were in. He didn't complain and was a good sport about the whole thing, even managing to chuckle and laugh at my pathetic attempts at humor.
Since arriving at Belfour Castle, I have done my best to restock our supplies. I traded two days of work at the smithy for a donkey. One of our attackers had been carrying a very nice sword of fine steel with gold inlay in the handle. I sold it and was able to purchase enough provisions to get us to our destination, I hope.


One last note. For being such a small fellow, Sir Frederikson is quite resilient. He took a beating in the attack, though he fought bravely. He has suffered from cold, wet and bad food and yet by the day after our arrival at Belfour Castle, you would never have guessed it.

Belfour Castle

We have finally reached Belfour.  The rains came just after the battle, and a single days journey became three.  Our horses slogged through mud that sometimes came right up to the little mares belly.  Once Jord and I had to drag my horse, I call him Spook, out of the mud when he lost his footing and his composure.  Had it not been for Jord’s great strength he would have drowned or broken a leg. 

We were a sorry sight this morning when we arrived at the castle gate, and I believe it was only my name that got us in.  A hot bath and good food has improved my spririts though I am still saddened by the loss of my men, horses, and hounds.  Lord Belfour had sent out men to search for my lost property, but I have little hope that it will ever be found. 

We had the pleasure of meeting Lord Belfour’s daughter Marie shortly after arrival.  She is a terrible beauty with long blonde hair and blue eyes.  I’m afraid I didn’t make much of a first impression on her in my bedraggled muddy state.  Something about her makes me want to see her again though I cannot say why. 

We will stay here a few days, recover, restock our supplies, and then Jord and I will continue our journey.  Perhaps we will attract less unwanted attention as a group of two.  Jord tells me that when he traveled with the Vikings they often split into small groups to avoid attention.  Sometimes I think that man has been everywhere there is.

A SHOVEL NAMED BILL

Jord.

No one thinks of a shovel when they think of a weapon, there are no famous shovels. There are legendary swords, arrows, knives, whips, but no shovels.

Because of this, I tried my hand at just about every kind of weapon, and found myself to be decent, but they never felt natural to me. I was too slow with the ax and broad sword, under stress my arrows tended to fly wild and my accuracy with a throwing knife was not dependable. Eventually I settled on the sword. I was okay with it and I liked the intimidation factor.

One day I was working on a ditch when a gang of goblins attacked me. All I had was my shovel, so that is what I used. I spun, jumped, smashed, chopped and beat my way through them like a fat boy working on a pinata. As I stood there, gazing at the dust cloud of their retreat, I had an epiphany. I had always been good with a shovel. It was a gift. I could move and shape earth faster and better than anyone I knew. The shovel became my primary tool for close combat. Years later I saved an elfin princess from her would-be kidnappers and her father presented me with a battle shovel, especially commissioned and built for me. The blade is made of fine steel, the handle is elfin hickory, and the whole thing cured in bull oger pee. Yes, I said pee. It is gross, but a weapon soaked in bull oger pee is pretty much indestructable, so I dealt with it.

I named my shovel Bill, after one of my heroes, the biggest Billy Goat Gruff, the legendary troll hunter. People look at me funny when I speak about my battle shovel, but results are results and they learn to respect the shovel.

Disaster

Two days into our journey and disaster has struck.  It was yesterday just after noon the heat of the sun bearing down on us as our horses plodded along.  All except Jord’s horse, he rides a tiny little mare that he picked up while he traveled with a Viking ship, she has seemingly endless amounts of stamina and prances along happily all day.  My own horse is too nervous to plod, an incredibly annoying trait for a horse although it likely saved my life in this case.  I had just stopped for a moment to take care of some business, and was trotting my horse back to the front of our ragged group to pester Jord into telling me another story from his many adventures when suddenly my horse shied to the side.  I am a fair horseman, but caught off guard by his sudden movement I almost came off.  As I clung to the horses’ side (I should really name the beast I’ll have to give it some thought) I heard the distinct whistle of an arrow pass through the air where my chest would have been, and then a solid thunk as it imbedded itself in a tree just behind  me on the side of the road. 

Four more arrows had flown simultaneously with the one that missed me.  Two of my men lay in the dirt, and one was slumped lifeless in his saddle.  The fifth arrow had been for Jord, but by some blessing it missed it’s mark by a hair and was lodged firmly in the front of his saddle. 

Momentarily it seemed to me that everything froze in place, and then complete pandemonium.  “Shields!” Jord bellowed in a voice that sounded to me like it should have come from a bull not a man.  Of my six remaining men three brought up their shields, and three wheeled their horses around to flee.  I didn’t have a shield, so I jumped down off of my horse, and attempted to put his body between myself and wherever the arrows were coming from. 

Five more arrows followed Jord’s command, and the three fleeing men fell from their saddles as the fled.  One arrow hit the ground between my feet, and another stuck into Jord’s shield.  I could see our attackers now just ahead of us spread across the road.  I had just located them when Jord smashed into the middle of their line with his little mare.  My other men followed closely on his heels, and the battle commenced on even terms.  I am ashamed to say that at this point I lost control of my horse and he knocked me off my feet and bolted taking my sword with him. 

I jumped to my feet just as one of our attackers, a young man with an incredibly ugly face, leap from his galloping horse directly onto me.  I may not be much of a fighter, but I am a fair wrestler and stronger than I look.   I had managed to turn a little so that when we hit the ground neither of us had the advantage.  What possessed the man to leap from his horse I shall never know.  He could easily have stayed aloft, and lopped off my head at his pleasure as he rode by.  Battle has a way of ckearing some men’s minds, and making others into complete idiots.  It is my fortune that I am one of the former, and my opponent one of the latter. 

I held my own for a time as we wrestled among stamping panicked horses and the bodies of my unfortunate companions.  His superior size was greatly to his advantage however and soon I was on my back and his hands where firmly wrapped around my throat.  I don’t know if you have ever been choked to death, but it is unequivocally a terrible way to go. 

Just as the darkness began to close in on my vision a brown blur struck my killer directly in the chest knocking him off of me.  The three legged pup (I have since named him Beast) had seen my plight and come to my rescue.  I scrambled to my feet, and was about to jump back into the fray when Jord stepped in to save the day.  In his hands he carried the most beautiful shovel I have ever seen (I have since learned from him that it was a gift from an elf king) which he brought down with a thunderous smash on the head of the ugly man.  The battle was over.

Jord and I are unharmed though I am heavily bruised, and quite shaken.   My two remaining men stole away in the night with all but my horse, I assume they could not catch him, Jord’s mare, I assume they were too scared to even try to steal her, and Beast who refuses to leave my side.  We are a day’s journey or so from Balfour castle.  We shall travel there and attempt to win the favor of Duke Balfour a friend of my fathers.

Sir Frederik Frederikson and I as we embark on our journey.

The Choosing

I feel as though I had been played for a fool.  My brothers have the best hounds, men, and horses in the known world at their disposal, and yet what was offered to me for choosing can only be described as the dregs of the earth.  They have slighted me knowing full well that I have no recourse.
The horses are all either lame, old, or flighty, and I doubt if any of them actually came from my brothers' stables.  Of the hounds three appear to be mongrels with no breeding at all.  The fourth is a young boar hound who lost his right front leg on his first hunt.  Al though scarred and a bit crippled the pup took to me instantly, and shows some promise.
Frankly I am frightened of the men.  I have seen murderers, thieves, and gypsies, but I have never seen a more villainous bunch in all my life.  Their captain seems to be a good man although he is a foreigner.  I feel I can trust him, but he has already confided to me that he has not been long with his men, and cannot vouch for their loyalty.
We traveled half a day West and South, and made camp by a small stream beyond which I have never been.  tomorrow we depart at dawn and begin our journey in earnest.

GUMMY THE PINE GUM ELF

Gummy the Pine Gum Elf can take care of all of your pine gum needs he has salves, ointments, tinctures and air fresheners. he is also a top notch grappler he is the top fighter in his weight division. do not try to cheat this guy.

How to Catch a Dragon

There have been many songs sung and tales told of mighty dragon slayers, their bravery and heroism is legendary. The name, “Dragon Slayer”, conjures up images of mighty knights in shining armor astride magnificent steeds, banners unfurled and lances at the ready.

As a young man I joined my family and neighbors many times on boar hunts, armed with lances and hunting knives. We would chase the beast with dogs until they got tired and decided to stop and fight. They would back up into a thicket where we would then surround the brush and wait for the hounds to flush the giant swine out.

The boar hunts were always very exciting and more than once I had a close call with those slashing tusks. During these hunts I often thought of dragons and that this must be very much what the heroes must have felt like. The excitement, the adrenaline coursing through their bodies. I wanted to someday stand in that prestigious group known as Dragon Slayers. As I got older, I learned two things. First, dragons were believed to be extinct and second, that if you could catch a wild boar alive, nobles and the like would pay money for them. There was a great market to stock their hunting grounds, private zoos and arena fights.

The process for catching a wild boar is very similar to hunting. You chase the boar and run him with the dogs until he stops, but instead of spearing him to death, you rope and hog tie the sucker. Someone ropes his head, another person ropes his feet and then you stretch him out until he falls over. At this point, you tie all four feet together and pack him out to the highest bidder.

Fast forward a few years. I found myself in the employment of a Sir Frederik Frederikson, the youngest son of a powerful family. We were in a very remote mountain valley, speaking to a dwarven shepherd when we learned that there was local trouble with a medium size dragon, no more than fifty feet in length. The dwarf was actually quite profane and had some very imaginative ways of describing the dragon, it’s family and ancestry, but the short of it was this. The dragon couldn’t speak Common, Dwarvish, Elvish, or anything but dragon. To top it off, this dragon was so lazy and lacking in self-respect, that it would steal and eat domestic sheep. Most dragons feel it below them to eat domestic livestock unless it’s part of a castle siege for treasure and princesses. In that case it’s considered okay. Everyone gets peckish during a siege.

Sir Frederikson volunteered to slay the foul beast, so off we went, up the mountain to find it’s lair. As we climbed, I suggested the possibility of catching the dragon rather than killing it. I had heard that if a dragon swears by it’s name, it is magically bound to perform it’s side of whatever agreement was made. I was also sure that there had to be someone willing to pay very nicely for a dragon. I presented Sir Frederikson with my idea. He mulled it over for a time and agreed that my plan to catch the dragon was monetarily a better plan and that we should give it a try. If we failed, we could always kill it on a second attempt.

By evening, we had located the lair. We made camp not far away, nestled between large boulders. The dwarf had also given us the dragon’s daily routine. It slept most of the time, only leaving it’s den once a week to feed. According to the dwarf, it was very punctual. Tuesday mornings at six o’clock in the morning, it would emerge from the lair, fly around for an hour, eat one of the sheep, then be back inside by nine where it stayed until the next Tuesday. My plan was to catch the dragon as it left it’s lair.

Tuesday morning found me ready and waiting. I was on my little mare, a viking horse, small, stocky, gaited, and the most reliable steed I had ever ridden. I was just above the cave’s entrance with a strong rope I planned to throw over the critter’s head when it emerged from the cave. Sir Frederikson had another rope he would use to get the back feet tied and we would do this the same way I had done before with the wild boars. We had not been waiting at our posts for very long when we heard the dragon moving and working his way to the entrance. He let out some thunderous bellows and shot fire out of the opening. It was all very impressive. Suddenly it was there, standing just outside it’s cave. It wasn’t much of a dragon, but it was the only dragon I had ever seen and even a scrawny, uneducated, hill-billy dragon is an impressive sight. I was so impressed that I almost forgot to throw my rope. He unfurled his wings, I threw the rope, not a moment too soon. The next instant, he flapped and shot into the air, sending his head right through my loop. The moment the rope was over his head, I dallied off on my saddle. Have you ever seen someone get clothes-lined? The poor sucker had no idea what had hit him. He did an arial somersault and landed flat on his back, letting out a blast of flame right in Sir Frederikson’s direction. Sir Frederikson’s horse was not amused and fled the scene, taking his rider and rope with him.

So there I sat, not knowing what to do next. The dragon didn’t give me much time to wonder. He quickly recovered and launched himself from the mountain side. He was prepared this time and I was the one that was swept off my feet. My horse and I found ourselves airborne. It was a wild ride, to say the least. We flew way out over the valley and that is when things got strange. A second dragon appeared and was very angry, but not at me. She was a blue, scaly lizard, speaking Common. She came out, calling my dragon a bum and apparently had warned him that this was exactly what she had warned him about. He replied something in Dragon that I could only assume was offensive, because at that moment, she attacked him in midair. A result of the two dragons fighting was that they stopped flying and started falling towards the ground. At that moment, I started to wonder whether I had made a wise choice in roping this little gray dragon.

About a hundred feet from the ground, the dragons disengaged. The blue female sailed back into the air, calling over her shoulder, “You are getting what you deserve, Steve.” Yes. I have a name, I thought to myself. But my attention was really on the fact that my dragon was still falling. Not as fast as before, but still headed downwards.

We were gliding in at an angle. I was a little afraid that my horse and I were going to hit a tree and end up tangled in a tree with a dragon. Not a pleasant thought. My horse hit the ground running, so that our landing was actually quite smooth. The dragon on the other hand gave up trying to fly and crashed hard into a tree and hit the ground. I didn’t hesitate. By the time he regained his senses, it was too late. I had him trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

It took two days for Sir Frederikson to catch up to us. In those few minutes in the air, we had crossed a lot of country. By the time Sir Frederikson got to us, I had found a pixy that could translate Dragon. The negotiations took another three days. Everyone was disatissfied with the outcome, we must have done a good job.

New Beginning

I begin my history on this night, the eve of my father’s death, and the eve before my departure form the only home I have ever known.  I do not know that anyone will ever read, or care to read, my history but it eases my mind to put to pen the thoughts and feelings coursing through my mind and soul.  

I was born Frederik Frederikson the fifth, and youngest, son of Sir Frederik Olardson Duke of Roglund and Hollardan called Frederik the Mountain twenty years ago last month.  My father began life as the second son of Olard Count of Risoria a minor holding on the western edge of Northland bordering the wilderness, and through conquest intrigue and the brute force of his will became the most powerful Duke in all of Northland.  His wealth was great, and his sons are many.

Therein lies the reason for my departure so soon after my father’s passing.  Father’s will was read today before the King and all the nobles assembled to our estate for the funeral.  To my eldest brother Willard the Duchy of Roglund, to Adelhard the Duchy of Hollardan, to Leidulf the county of Shaermar by the sea,  to Giles the county of Haganes all of these with all their cattle and men.

 Last of all to me Frederick he left his name, two horses of my choosing from Shaermar, four hounds from the kennels at Haganes, and five men each from the Roglund and Hollardan, I was also given  the county of Risoria, lordless and deserted these fifty years since the death of my grandfather. 

So I am now Sir Frederik Frederikson Count of Risoria a land of bandits and goblins that has likely been absorbed into the wilderness that was always on its doorstep.  My brothers wish me no ill will, but have made it clear that they also wish me gone.  I was born much later than they to my father’s second wife, and they never trusted me.  They are all as ambitious as father, and see me as a threat to that ambition.  At dawn I will choose my horses and my hounds  and my men, and will follow the sun to my new  life and home in an untamed land.

Welcome!

Sir Frederik Frederikson and Jord

We are glad you stopped by. My brother and I are about to relate to you the incredible adventures of two intrepid explorers, the one, as he seeks to claim his inheritance and the other as he follows his dreams and calling in life. So sit back with us and enjoy the ride.