Game Log: Torg 7-26-08


Finely, we may have found work once more.  After hanging out at the local inn with the Minotaur drinking double hammer dwarven Imperial stout (not the local humans' ale) and talking to the locals we have a lead on a job.  The less said about the local brew the better.  The humans' bitter weak ale could not even get its first hammer that comes at 5% ABV.  Now a good dark double hammer dwarven Imperial stout is a lager with 8% to up to 11% ABV, malty flavour, hints of dark fruits, and is quite rich.  Triple hammer has an ABV of 11% plus and you could get a quad hammer at 14% ABV.  I'm a bit worried about my fellow dwarf in the group, for he does not sit down to a mug of good beer ever and that can be a sign that something is not right.  Time will tell.  

Now, back to our hunt for work.  Riverhaven is reported to be having a problem with goblins and that means they may need some people to take out the goblins.

After some debate we rented some tall manure makers i.e. horses.  Why did we need those things?  At least we did not need to row there in a boat.  Well, we ran into some elves' work, a big tree right in the center of the path.  What a waste, rather then grow it there they should have grown it in the woods so it could be harvested for charcoal.  As we headed around the wayward tree we where attacked by some human desperados.  By the time I got off that lofty manure maker I was riding the bandits had been sent to the Moradin's slagheap for a re-forging.  May the All father burn the impurities from their souls!  We made a camp at the crossroad in the woods at dusk.  I pitched my tent and turned in for the night dreading the thought that we would be climbing back on those tall manure makers in eight hours.  Some how we got in a mêlée with a carter that was out in the middle of the night.  I would have liked to have gotten my armor on…  I grabbed my war hammer and shield as I climbed from my bedroll.  The little fey that had been under the weather for the last day or two must be on the mend for with a clap of thunder my tent was up in a tree flapping in the breeze.  That was not the only thing flapping in the breeze, for I had not even had time to grab my small cloth much less pull them on.  Oh well, as my father clams no dwarf is undressed if he has his beard, his weapon, and a target.  Not that I had a target to put it too.  My new drinking partner and some of the other members of the group had weighed waste to the evil followers of Bane that had been riding in the wagon that the carter was using.  That is the way of battle sometimes.  So I re-pitched my tent and turned in for the rest of the night.  Maybe we can repair the wagon.  It would be nice to stay off that tall flighty manure maker.


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