Humanitarian Aid.

Events run by players - no GMs necessary!
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Humanitarian Aid.

Post by Taliaferro »

IT WAS well past the witching-hour. The denizens of Tarueka were mostly asleep. A mule-drawn cart approached the gates of that terrible, godsforsaken village. One ancient mariner took note of the noise, and lurched his way towards the fresh meat.

Four Shadgardians -- two men, and two women-- drew near the village. They whispered furiously at each other. Eventually the man nodded. They heaved a great chest from the cart and concealed near the wall, covering it up with some leaves and brush.

The four entered the village, and made their way to the old, dilapidated, but strangely clean inn.

Behind the bar they placed several packages, tied up with string. The man produced a sheet of paper from his coat pocket, and nailed it up against the door. One of the women gave him a look, and tore the paper from the door, and hid it behind the bar.

They all left, their job done.

The letter, if anyone should happen to read it, read:



Be pleas'd to accept of these very small & petty Gifts. There remain some who remember Tarueka's Munifecence to Shadgard, & there remain some who would make common Cause with yr People.

More will be forthcoming. If you have need of anything in particular, do but advise us, and we will do our best to provide it.
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Joined: Tue May 10, 2022 4:06 am

Re: Humanitarian Aid.

Post by Lamia »

In the quiet darkness of the very early morning a small group, guarding a laden cart drawn by an uncomplaining draught horse, headed out of the town of Shadgard towards Tarueka village. Starlight glinted off metal, but did not provide enough light to identify the company.

At the point where the trail split off towards the village, those riding dismounted, tethering their horses to await the return. The workhorse, however, continued on, surrounded and protected by the group.

Carefully, but as swiftly as could be managed, the party passed through the farmlands surrounding the village walls. Occasional meetings with the confusedly aggressive infested wanderers were handled by avoidance and outdistancing of the afflicted persons, with no harm given or taken by any. Speaking in muffled tones from behind the bandanas most were wearing over their lower faces, the group made their way through the gate, still open at this hour in the dead of night, to arrive outside the small inn at the heart of the village.

With a minimum of talk, the cart was unloaded, farm produce and fresh meat being delivered to the lobby. Pumpkins, berries, eggs, fresh bread, a large jar of sweet butter and fresh venison were all deposited, accompanied by a note. Those interested in reading it would find the following:

To Miss Elira of Elira's Inn, Tarueka, Greetings.

Please accept these gifts from a Friend, in the hopes that the fresh produce, eggs, meat and so forth will prove of assistance to you in the day to day business of operating your comfortable establishment. All are products of our own farm, or our own efforts hunting.

We hope to be able to provide similar deliveries periodically in future. With our best wishes for you and your establishment,

Your Wellwishers.
A small female figure, carrying a spear, and a taller man with a long blade, stood watch at the doorway leading out as the offerings were distributed under the direction of an older, slightly portly and bewigged figure. Another small figure, a woman, organized the packages and baskets, while two remaining, rather hulking, forms assisted, one briefly perturbed, but calming as the work proceeded, the other, seeming placid, simply doing as instructed.

With the cargo safely bestowed in Elira's Inn, the party reformed, collected the cart and the patient horse, and departed the mercifully quiet village without incident. They once more made their way at speed through the farmlands, deflecting the occasional inhabitant encountered on the way with, again, no injuries inflicted or taken, until once more they stood upon the main road and, mounts collected, returned in general silence to Shadgard, business concluded for that evening.
You say, "Well, they probably use goblets, but better table manners are still no reason to join a bloodcult."
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