Not a cart or wagon had passed safely between the two towns in over a fortnight. Refanij ever desirous of spilling goblin blood was primed for a slaughter, so in an attempt to draw fire, we borrowed a cart from a local cloth merchant, and headed up the road to Crestknoll. Nothing amiss occurred, and we made the one day journey safely. There we met the mayor and owner (same midget) of the Crestknoll vineyard, we arranged to bring a cartload of wine to Pell, with most of our party hidden inside. This would surely draw the goblins out for the attack.

Apparently the Goblins had all the wine they wanted, for we reached Pell unscathed, with our cargo intact. We arranged for another shipment of cloth and empty wine casks to head back to Crestknoll. Once again nothing undue occurred during our journey. It was apparent that either the goblins were being warned of our presence, or the threat no longer existed. We were ready to continue our journey south, being outwitted by goblins was too much for our fragile egos to take.

We packed up our stuff, bid good day to the Mayor, and headed back towards Pell, intent on making Rel Mord in a few days. Around midday, we heard a distant yell, from the road ahead. The party instantly made our best speed towards the direction of the noise. It was just a ways down the road, a wagon carrying lumber was laying askew with a broken wheel, and a man, apparently the driver lay dead some 20 feet or so from the cart. The draft animals were missing, and closer inspection revealed that the man had been recently stabbed to death.

Now we had something to grasp hold of with our puny minds! We searched the area for tracks, and one of  Brand's dogs picked up the scent of our quarry to the west of the road. We followed the trail to a stream, where apparently the attackers had entered it in hopes of eluding pursuers. We chose to follow the stream upriver, which lead us generally north, and back towards Crestknoll. We found small booted tracks along the way, giving us proof that our guess had been the right one. We eventually caught the scent of them again, near a bend in the stream. The little bastards had left the stream to the north when it curved off to the east. Not long after, the trail ended at another stream. We followed it north, and after a good amount of time, we ended up just outside of Crestknoll. At this point we decided that Refanij and Bran would see how far they could follow the tracks, while the rest of us lay low in the woods. There was discussion that since it appeared that the halflings were involved in the raids, we should get out while the getting was good. For some reason those in favor of staying won out.

Refanij and the crusading hypocrite were led right into town by the dogs. They lost the scent in the confusion of the town, but it was plainly obvious that our quarry had entered Crestknoll not long ago in broad daylight. Since I remained back with the rest of the party, I can only report what I was told.  Refanij claims that they soon ran into the sheriff of Crestknoll. Threats were exchanged, and eventually they ended up on the road south of Crestknoll in a meeting with the sheriff and the mayor. They agreed that it was an inside job, and the only chance of successfully catching the criminals would be to spread the word that our party had been thrown out of town, and then wait a day and send a shipment of wine to Pell. Our party would wait in hiding along the road, and then trail the caravan, in hopes of catching the attackers in the act.

We lay in wait, and during the next night, a screaming mass of fur, teeth, and blades attacked our camp. We chopped the gibberlings down like wheat, only to be assaulted by a larger contingent of them a few hours later. Once again, we got out our scythes and harvested their flesh. We woke up fresh and exhilarated the next morning, ready for the grand finale.

The caravan was right on schedule, and we had no problem following it from the cover of the trees. Sure enough, the ambush was sprung. A large group of halflings, painted goblin orange, sprang from cover on the side of the road and attacked the caravan. We immediately joined in the melee. Once again many of the halflings were felled by Kimono Microthin's sleep spell, however, Ruffage, in his ever pompous and self centered fashion erroneously believes that the dagger he threw took out seven halflings. The battle was short but bloody, after the mayhem had subsided, we had captured about a third of the halflings, while the rest lay dead or dying. A few of the caravan's halfling guard had survived, and we had them lead the way back to town, with a wagon full of bound traitors.

Upon our arrival, we were greeted by the Sheriff, and soon a crowd of angry looking halflings gathered. We let the halfling guards do most of the talking. During this, Branl nudged me on the shoulder and told me that he had detected an evil halfling moving about behind the crowd. None of the captured halflings had an aura of evil about them. Myself, Ref, and Muffin, er, Brand, um... I mean Bran, excused ourselves, and went in search of the evil halfling.  Bran briefly caught a glimpse of evil aura amongst a small group of halflings, and when they spotted us, they scattered. Not liking the looks that we were receiving from the town' inhabitants, we decided that it would be best if we removed ourselves. We gathered up the rest of the group and high tailed it out of town, setting sun or not.

At last we reached Rel Mord. T'Rojan could barely contain his excitement at returning to his home town. He promised us that his rich daddy's servants would cook us the best meal we'd ever had, and that we'd get to meet his pet cat. The idea of a good meal was definitely intriguing. We made our way through the city, to a section of town that was walled off from the rest.  Tee-Ro-Jan informed us that the wall separated the riff raff from the gentle folk. We were required to sign in after Troj-enz displayed his pass. It seems none of the party was literate, so we all were forced to mark an X for our names. We soon made it to the Orse residence, and entered to an empty home. I do have to admit, that I'd never been invited into a home as fine as this, and I was going to make damn well sure that I'd never be invited again. Ramses seemed a little agitated that no one was home, and went into the basement to see if his father was in his subteranean animal stuffing shop. I made my way to the much touted wine cellar, and liberated two of its inhabitants. Refanij and I were drinking comfortably in front of the fireplace, sitting in expensive chairs and basking in the unnecessary heat of a summer fire, when Tee Rojan, came back upstairs whining about his father's shop being "fucked up".

Such foul language caused me to spit wine uncontrollably from my mouth, ruining an expensive rug. The sight of my shock must have sent Refanij into convulsive laughter, for he soon had wine shooting out of his more than ample nostrils, and all over the fine furniture. Some punk ass servants came home at about the same time, and greeted Trojan with the news that his father had been misplaced. I offered that we look in similar locations that a misplaced key might be hiding, such as under a bed or in between seat cushions. My suggestion helped convince the servants that inviting me back would be highly unlikely. Orion, Barda, Bran, and the dogs came up from below, and reported that not only was Toejam's father's shop "fucked up" but that his cat was the size of a well armed ogre.

It was then that I noticed that the mass of Elven muscle, Taladar, was nowhere to be found, so I began looking for him in the usual places, between seat cushions and under beds. It just so happens, that I found him on the second floor, on top of one of the beds I was searching under. I woke the blockhead up and told him what was going on, he faded back to sleep. I followed his lead and found Trojan's bedroom. I quickly "polished my sword", sending my entire discharge all over his bed, then went and found another location to sleep.

Somewhere between noon and breakfast, we got the notion that a group of animal lovers may have kidnapped Mr. Orse, in protest of his occupation of animal stuffing. While Ref and I went in to the market to liquidate a golden dragon statuette and some other items we had gathered along the way, we discovered that there was an organization of animal lovers called ALGE, Animal Lovers Group Excrement, or something like that. We also discovered that there was to be a meeting of this group the following night. We took this exciting news back with us to Orse manor. The rest of the crew was not to be found, only the solemn Rojan was home. He sat idly drinking wine and complaining of soiled sheets. Our news buoyed his forlorn spirit for several seconds.

Ref and I gathered up several tapestries that the party had collected during one of our adventures and headed to the market to sell them. We estimated their value at nearly 150 gold. Imagine our surprise when we were able to sell them to some dumb schmuck for 850 gold. Since the value of the tapestries was really only 150 gold, Ref and I split the remaining 700, and reported our profitable sale of the tapestries at 150 gold. Every party member was happy to receive their fair share of 25 gold, with the exception of Orion, who for some reason thought our haggling skills were somehow lacking.

At about this time a rock with a note attached to it came smashing through the window. I read the note, after removing my feign illiteracy spell, it was a typical ransom note, I'd written better myself. It said deliver 1,000 gold to some such place at some such time if you want to see your father again. I'd never met my father, so I was more than interested in seeing him. I asked Trojan if I could borrow a grand to see my father. It seems that having one's father misplaced made him a little testy. He offered us 2,000 gold if we found and rescued his father, but that paying the kidnappers would be unacceptable.

We decided that paying off the kidnappers with 1,000 gold and then receiving a reward for 2,000 gold would net us a 1,000 gold profit. Since Trojan was unwilling to pay the ransom, I asked if I could take an advance on the reward of 1,000 gold, for "disguises and expenses". Trojan readily agreed, so I gathered up the cash, got directions to the drop off location, and headed out into the night. I knew I was a day early, but with kidnappers, you can never be too early.

I found the crate and dumped in the cash, then hid out in another crate down the alley, and not a moment too soon, for two men started heading down the alley in my direction. They were carrying hammer and nails, very confusing, why would kidnappers carry hammer and nails? Oh shit, they started to nail shut the crate I was hiding in. I leapt from the crate, and bound away from the would be longshoremen. Moments later Rentafridge and Brand arrived and began killing the warehouse employees. Little did Refanij know that this would not be the last warehouse employee to fall to his deadly daggers. I went back to the Orse residence in search of sleep. What the hell had I been thinking, running off like that?

The next day, Rekalitch told me that some of the dead "warehouse employees" had some patch with a skull and cross bone on it.  The gibbering idiots, that washed the floors at the Orse joint, were able to inform us, through brown gums and the occasional tooth, that the patch signified the "Black Deaths", an organixation of hired cutthroats.  Legend has it that "noone" who'se seen a black death has lived to tell about it.  Who the hell are they kidding?  These incompetent ass scratchers couldn't kill a kitten with a sledge hammer. 

We went into the common part of the city and gathered a little more information about the ALGE people, including a description of their leader, a woman with a white streak in otherwise black hair. We staked out the drop sight, and soon enough a couple of guys grabbed the coins and ran off down the street, we followed as best we could, and ended up in an alley. I followed a money grabber after he exited, and trailed him back to what appeared to be his home. I entered and forced a confession out of him. He was just a dumb slug who was paid to grab the cash, and put it in a bucket in the alleyway. He said he'd been hired by "some dude", usually a fatal answer, but in this case, I could tell that it was the truth, based on the large wet mark forming on the front of his trousers.   I let him live, for now, and went in search of other fun.

I decided to pick up a skanky looking lady of the night, and ended up hiring a rather young trollop with a cleft palate, who looked like she'd been ridden hard and put away wet. She was much less than I could afford, but embarrassing the Orse family was my prime concern. I had to bribe the guard at the Rich folk gate to let this hag pass. The bribe was more than she'd make in a week's worth of knob hopping.

That night Refanij came back towing in a nearly dead wild elf.  He'd gotten his ass kicked killing some pony tailed girly man. We healed him up and it turns out that this fucked up retarded Elf, named Reiltis, knew a couple of the guys from a previous adventure. Where they bumped into each other, I have no idea.  Also interesting, was that they found a paper with a reward on it in the pony tailed mans pocket, along with the now customary Black Death patch.  The interesting part of the reward was that it offered a 100 gp reward for: a long nosed gnome, who can occasionaly be found humping a badger; an overly muscled elf who never bathes, and wears leather underware; a large human who can often be mistaken for a fountain with a slow leak; and a bald half-elf with a neck the size of an arrow shaft.  I quickly considered making 400 gold, then noticed that a reward of 50 gold was also being offered for any other accomplices.  Now I was pissed, I demand first rate billing!

The unwashed Elf, had attacked a band of Goblins with the other dimwits, prior to meeting me.  Now here he was with a fresh reward on his head, and bringing one down on me as well.  No wonder the "Black Deaths" were all over us like flies on manure.  It would have been nice if the elf with super-calla-fragilistic-expiala-dotious muscles could speak a language that everyone could understand, but he only spoke Elven.  I pretended not to understand him, in hopes that he would go away.

About this time, we realized that no one had seen hyde nor hair of Taladar in over a day.   No one seemed to care, so we went back to taking turns with the harelip. Even Barda took her turn, though I made sure she went last. Later that day, another note was delivered, this time it congratulated us on our ability to follow orders, and informed us that we were to leave 10,000 gold and cart at some location outside the city. I devised several plans so devious that putting them into effect could possibly alter the known world, therefore, I just decided to rig the wheels of the cart, so that they would fall off soon after the cash was picked up.

We set up an ambush near the location of the money drop, the cart was ready, and I was in a tree overlooking the sight, short bow at the ready. At the scheduled time, a young punk hopped up into the cart, and took off down the road. He rounded a bend out of sight, and I heard a great clatter, and soon saw a wheel go wobbling slowly down the road. The rest of the group ran to the sight, while I extracted myself from the tree. When I arrived on the scene, they were gathered around the kid who lay on the ground, so I held back to see if anything else was going on. He was soon on his feet, holding his head, and the rest of the party began discussing some issues. The kid wandered off, in one direction, while the party headed in another. I followed the kid, and ended up in a bar.

I bought the young punk a drink, and soon got him talking, he was the same kind of street trash that I had been not too long ago, except he wasn't too bright. I soon got it out of him, that he'd been hired by someone, who may or may not have had eyes and a head, to take the cart to a nearby warehouse.  I eventually got around to finding out where the warehouse was located.  I bought him another drink and headed out the door.

I figured I'd better go and investigate, as my comrades would no doubt be in sore need of my help. As I approached the warehouse in question, I saw several armed men dressed mostly in black and fitting the description of the "Black Deaths" that I'd been hearing about, entering through a side door. I ducked around the corner of the building and peeked in through another entrance. Inside, I could hear the sounds of combat and yelling, some of the voices seemed vaguely familiar. I saw the backs of a few more Black Death type dudes moving between the piled crates, weapons drawn, and looking intent on destruction. In the off chance that my friends could use some help, I decided that now was a good time to use a scroll of web spell that I'd been holding onto for situations like this.

Soon the entire warehouse was a mass of sticky webs, entangling everyone within. With that taken care of, I peeked back around the corner, where I'd seen the other Black Deaths entering. Unfortunately I saw two guys running right towards me, with a tiger mauling a few more behind them. I'm not sure why, but one of the fearful men, who was running for his life from a tiger, decided that this would be a good place to stop and attack some stranger peeking around a corner. I killed him quickly for his trouble. Just about that time, a flash of light erupted from the inside of the warehouse, and smoke came puffing out the cracks and eaves of the building. Some idiot must have lit the webs on fire.

Not liking the prospect of facing a tiger and several Black Deaths, I decided that I'd follow the fleeing bozo, and try to gather some more information about the black deaths. Again, I ended up in a bar, hobnobbing with a Black Death. I plied him with lies and cheap booze, and soon had the location of the Black Death headquarters. I used a spell of Change Self to alter my appearance, to look like a leader type Black Death that I'd seen at the warehouse. I walked up to the door and knocked. A small panel slid open and someone asked me what the code was.

I of course had no idea, so I just told them to open the damn door, as we'd all been slaughtered at the warehouse, and I was sorely hurt. Black Deaths must be very caring individuals, for they opened the door and two men let loose with crossbow bolts. I dodged the bolts, then one guy drew his sword and continued the assault. Mind you, I was unarmed at the time. I continued telling them it was "me" while dodging their blows, and told them I'd been struck in the head and couldn't remember the password. It was obvious that the DM was totally unprepared for me to enter the headquarters, so they ended their futile assault on me and told me to come back when I'd recovered my senses.

With that they went back inside and shut the door. Well if I wasn't going to be let in, I'd make sure I wouldn't want to go in. Now who wants to enter a burning building? Not me. I pulled out my two flasks of oil, stuffed rags in the mouths of them, and sparked them to life with my flint and steel. I once again knocked on the door, and claimed I'd remembered the code. The slot in the door opened once again, and I immediately slammed a flask through the hole. Fire erupt inside, and I smashed the other jar of oil against the outside of the door. Happy with the little blaze, I took off and headed for home, I mean the Orse home.