Bree

“Straight to my face, bold as you like… watery indeed!”

Barliman was not best pleased, as Raffles had come to understand, in great detail, over the last hour or so.

Maddoc from the Crossways House had paid a visit, and as usual, following any impromptu encounters with an innkeeper, Barliman was in a dark mood. Inn-keeping seemed to be a very competitive business.

He sensed Barliman was about to loop round the story yet again…

Author’s Note: This piece was shaped with a little help from AI. It provided assistance on things like the structuring, some names, shortening some verbose language/ideas as I'd written, and gave me the odd turn of phrase here and there.

OOC - Author's Notes:

This entry marks the end of the 'Muck and Mystery in the Marshes' chronicle/storyline, but also serves as a bridge to its continuation, 'Where Webs Whisper'. Hope you'll stick with us as the story unfolds...

Author’s Note: This piece was shaped with a little help from AI. It provided assistance on things like the structuring, some names, shortening some verbose language/ideas as I'd written, and gave me the odd turn of phrase here and there.

OOC - Author's Notes:

Status: Complete - This compilation contains 7 entries, 7/7.

OOC - Author's Notes:

The following are recaps of session 3 and 4 of Where Webs Whisper. Originally starting as 'Muck and Mystery in the Marshes' the story campaign grew larger. Enjoy!

“Scrap”

Raffles felt a little deflated.

He had been on a small flight of fancy that this might be a long lost relic or blade of legend…

“It’s useless?” He asked more in hope than expectation.

It had been a long day, and he was tired, but sensing the hobbits’ disappointment, the weapon-smiths mood softened… just a little… “Well not totally, it will clean up and hold an edge… but its pretty low grade metal, and the craftsmanship is a little ‘rustic’ shall we say…“

Raffles shifted from one foot to the other, he was trying to listen politely, but was almost bursting to get on to his next visits…

He’d only popped into the crafting hall to speak with Madge, the resident jeweller, about his haul of gems and the little bags of tools he had ‘found’.

On his way out, he had been accosted by Old Roger Sorrel and Edwin Leafwood, who seemed to be on some sort of crafting guild recruitment drive.

Raffles entered the main bar area of the pony that morning in good spirits...

He was well rested, well fed and hopeful for the day ahead. 

Barliman had tipped him off that Leecher Cartwell, in Combe, might be interested in some of his finds from the marshes... the thought of a positive result from that particular debacle would have been enough to lift his mood by itself ... but at breakfast Aggie had handed him an envelope, the contents of which were a few silver coins and a rather lengthy note of apology from Eldo Swatmidge.