Wednesday, 29 June 2011

By Grabpot Picklewinkle aged 17⅝

Dear diary (if that’s what I can call this scrap of paper form my notebook), I sit here huddled for warmth in a dank dripping cave of unknown location. Around me are my companions, two of whom are unconscious from an attack by a terrible insectiod beast. At least we suspect they will recover, the druid seems to have awakened form the original attack or now we would be three members down. Only time will tell when they awaken and I feel the need to leave something for posterity should this prove to be my doom.

My course started with the realisation I would never inherit the family business. Pinwiggle, my elder brother is a stout and sturdy fellow, true follower of Halfling traditions and skilled winkle pickler. Somehow part of my brain must have known this and I have always been keen on the outdoor pursuits. Many a winkle collection would find me climbing the rocks or swimming hard though the crashing surf. “Oi Grabpot, think you’re a Half-elf?” father would chastise, though not meanly.

Chance came while on the weekly vinegar run to the general store. There at the counter was a weather beaten yet lithe and strong looking halfling of about 40 or 50. Curiosity got the better of me and luckily he was a congenial fellow who after making his purchase allowed me to press him with questions. What unfolded were tales of (for me anyway) high adventure, exploration and living off the land.

Wonderful stories were interrupted when my slightly distressed father came looking for the needed vinegar. After introducing my new found friend Leatherscraper, the ranger (as he turned out) suggested to my father that he was willing to train an apprentice. His tale had started in a similar vein to mine when as the younger brother he went into the wilds to collect furs as trim for his parents leather business. Over the years they became quite successful he now needed an extra pair of hands. After careful consideration my father gave me his blessing and 4 silver pieces to get me going.

I will stop my recounting here for the moment, the manipulative human has indicated his watch has finished and its my turn to stand guard in this dingy place…

 image ©2010-2011 ~moorkasaur

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