Adrian: Baldur's Gate

They had entered the southern part of the woods leading to the Bandit Camp. As a whole, the woods were known as the Wood of Sharp Teeth; this southern portion was known as Larswood.

Adrian was growing to hate it. It was mucky, and swampy. More than once he lost his footing in the mire. Viconia was even less happy about it, grumbling about the foolishness of the Gods who had designed the surface world. Then a cold rain began to fall, getting gradually heavier. Steam began to rise from Adrian's close-cropped hair, and Viconia's white mane was slicked back against her skull and neck. The wizards had all but vanished under the hoods of their robes, and Safana had likewise retreated under the meager covering of the hood of her leather thief garb. Only Kagain seemed unaffected, trudging along calmly enough.

Then they encountered several small groups of bandits, usually led by a captain who fired ice arrows. Adrian had had half a mind to pretend to want to be recruits, but these fools asked neither for quarter or talk.

But the real problem which got worse towards evening, was Gibberlings. One or two of the pesky little fools was no problem, but there seemed to be veritable hordes of the things in the area. They got thicker and thicker, and began to crowd the party until Adrian began to feel the first faint twinges of panic. Finally he commanded the wizards to do something about it. A fireball from Edwin silenced the hordes. Had they been a little less picky, there would have been plenty of roast gibberling to eat. But they had provisions enough, and even the callous Adrian and iron-stomached Kagain turned up their noses at this foul fare.

At twilight they fought a Bandit captain who was willing to have them surrender to him, but when they tried to negotiate to be recruited Adrian must have spoken a bad phrase, for the captain sneered and put an arrow in his leg. Adrian personally snapped his neck. He sighed; diplomacy was not his forte.

The rain was still falling too heavily for a campfire, so they ate cold meat from their packs and reluctantly huddled together as a group, for warmth. It was uneasy sleep that night, for all save Adrian and Safana. And even they did nothing but sleep, so miserable were conditions. The only good thing about it was the fact that the lack of campfire prevented the Gibberlings from finding them.

The next day they entered the northern half of the woods, Peldvale. The rain had stopped, and this was a drier, more temperate wood; less swamp, but plenty of wooded little lakes. There were also less Gibberlings, which was a mercy.

Counter balancing this, however, was the presence of more bandits. They must be getting close.

And then the next Bandit captain made himself known. "Tis your choice, drop your swords, or drop your heads!"

Adrian was determined not to foul it up this time. "We'll not fight you. In fact, we'll join your group."

The Bandit Captain sneered. "And why should I let you in?"

"We can smell which way the wind is blowing," said Kagain.

"Surely," said Edwin, "A wizard of my power would be useful to you?"

"Not to mention a Drow," said Viconia, taking off her helm, white hair flowing in the wind.

"And a thief of my....talents," said Safana, stretching in her leather.

The Bandit looked thoughtful for a moment.

"All right, keep up and no funny business."

He led them northwards.

Adrian grinned without humor. "This is it."