After dulling my blade against an unknown number of Elven heads in Vertas Pass, I felt it time to take respite within the foothills. The idea struck me that perhaps I should take my leave from all the melee and focus on quieter pursuits. Rumor has it there are ore deposits in the foothills, so I wiped away the squishy debris from my armor and took a stroll down the path.

The foothills are indeed striking and they appear to be amidst mining operations. It was of far too grand a scale for me, so I moved past the little ankle biting Fauns and their playful albeit somewhat tiresome game of rooting me to the ground and found a clearing festooned with camping tents.

Clearly I was in the right spot as a Kobold came out to greet me. I had arrived early and interrupted what I can only assume was an archery tournament. It should have been considered a practice as those Kobolds are in dire need of training and bow control. Had I not been adorned in my battle armaments, those wayward arrows could have caused serious undue injury. I know for certain my helm took the brunt of one very wayward arrow.

The archers jumped, bellowed and waved their arms in the air in what I assumed was an apology in their dialect. I found it a might difficult to understand them with their mouths covered and shielded behind those fashionable bandanas they wear.

But nevertheless, no harm done, and I soon chose a comfortable tent near the fire. The accommodations were meager but pleasant. Pleasant except for an odor I couldn’t identify. That is until I scouted the area and found the sauna enclosures. It seems those in charge created several personal relaxation chambers and many guests had idled away a great deal of time within the iron bars.

Alas, either they became so relaxed as to forgo food and water, or the steam bath had been adjusted too high, as these poor chaps were nothing but skin and bone. Mostly bone. The little pens indeed afforded a lovely view of the surroundings and gave ample opportunity for reflection and enjoyment of the wind in the trees, the rustle of the wildlife and the gentle hum of a nearby stream, but I had to chide those Kobolds for not checking on their patrons in a timely manner and felt they would be best served by putting up some sort of warning label. I’m certainly aware of the risks of lounging for too long, but others do not seem as keen as I.

I felt bad for the chaps, but since they weren’t going to use it, I took it upon myself to spend their leftover coins wisely. I stowed my belongings and after I indulge in the fine barbecue that has been laid out, I shall venture into the mines to try my hand at ore exploration. I never leave home without my pickaxe.


Oh, this looks quite lovely. A nice campfire, the rustle of the trees, the call of the wildlife. Now I recall, the Tour Guide was right over there.


Let me see, I think I will take that tent right over there. Oh dear, look at this poor Kobold. He has practiced archery to the point of exhaustion. Either that or the ale got him. No matter, I’m sure he will stumble away to his own tent before morning.


Ah ha! The source of the dubious smell behind the highly fashionable and luxurious tent.


I say, what manner of therapy are these enclosures for? Excellent view of the landscape from up there I would say.


Oh dead, it seems the vacationers have stay out too long in the sun. It appears they’ve relaxed themselves a bit too much. I shall have to speak with the proprietor about some warning labels. Perhaps a bell. Too much ale and sun. Been there, done that.


These Kobolds are certainly a neglectful lot. They’ve placed these relaxation chambers in prime location, but seem to be lax in coming back to check on the occupants. Well, I’m quite sure I can put their coins to good use. Waste not, want not.

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Recent Comments