Fullbridge Camping Trip

We're pleased to say that we had a great turnout!

Meeting early in front of The Troll's Tankard tavern (as Fullbridgers often do, being at the entrance to the town) we secured our heavy packs for the long hike north. Canteens filled and kindling passed out, the pleasant walk to the Bree-land faire grounds seemed to practically fly by us. But from this point on civilization would fade away, and our real nature hike was just beginning. Some hadn't witnessed the grounds before, or at least seen them empty, but that would have to wait for another time...for adventure awaited!

Eventually the evening began to set in. Alfhilde pointed out constellations as dusk gave way to their twinkle. Sometimes the wildlife would approach the travelers, which Ainawyn was afraid of letting come to harm, but whittler Kragosi had carved some special bolts for his crossbow: having no tip, the flute-like sticks would whistle loudly as they flew through the night, scaring off the animal before the situation deteriorated. Unfortunately one tenacious boar refused to take heed, and had to be put down through the swift actions of Brookin and Gylvi. A sad state of affairs, but at least the meat would prove useful in short order: their destination was just over the next ridge.

The vacationers arrived to find Damondir awaiting them, having already set up the tents and campfire. They ate well of pork sausage and shire pudding, and warmed themselves from the heat and the frienship both. Gylvi, Alfhilde and Ainawyn each played delightful songs in turn. Kragosi gathered them around the shadow-play with the promise of a scary story, only to lead up to a humorous conclusion. Brookin and Damondir enjoyed fine tobac and attempted wondrous smoke ring shapery.

Soon it was morning -- or rather, that quiet time just before, when the morning hasn't itself quite awoken -- and it seemed an opportune time to fish. While the view of the trees and lake islands were majestic, there proved to be far fewer fish than normal. This could have been due to another boar that decided their fishing hole should be his bath! Surely his splashing and snorting, as he repeatedly went to refresh himself, scared them off. It was all for the best: the best fishing was to be found at home, right on the bridge of the town's namesake.

Ainawyn and Damondir did not fancy casting the lines, however. Botanists of no small standing, they instead decided to forage for rare herbs in the exotic locale. Their leisurely stroll quickly turned into a competition, as each wanted to find the rarest herbs before the other: the lass shot ahead of the lad, coming upon a trove of yarrow plants certain to earn her victory. Imagine her surprise when she also came upon a fearsome creature! Made of twisted wood but with the gait of a man, Damondir marched back to dispatch this beast despite Aina's warnings. He felled the it and brought it back to camp for the discernment of the assembled...and the cleansing power of the campfire.

The others knew nothing of this, however. Hiking out for a better view of the waterfall, poor Alfhilde accidentally slipped on the wet edge, tumbling down twenty feet into the river below! Thankfully all was well, and Brookin and Kragosi agreed that a good swim may has well have been called for! Unfortunately, the strong current from the waterfall pushed them quickly downstream, and they were in for a bit of a soggy hike back when they re-emerged.

The camping trip ended the way such fleeting pleasures oft do: with work and toil and rude awakenings. The strange wooden troll was a topic of much musing and debate. The three plant experts in attendance could find little in the means of comfort or agreement, save the fact that this foretold bad news and grim tidings. While it differed from the corrupted trees of the Old Forest, perhaps the strange man who danced carefree in those woods might at least offer some inkling. The Fullbridgers resolved to seek him out and his opinion.