Where to even begin?
Following the near disaster of the cove, we sailed as quickly as we could to the nearest port city, hoping to regain the trail of the Egyptian assassins that Amadi 🗡 had been tracking. For my part, I hoped to find some means of finding passage to Egypt so I might continue my search for magical weapons which might help me regain my rightful throne. 1
While berthed in the Roman occupied port of Le Crotoy, each of us took opportunity to seek out that which might help us on our quests. Chensuke 👊 sought word of others from his distant land with whom to join and, when this failed, began giving impromptu meditation and martial arts demonstrations in the streets. Amadi 🗡 sought forgers of documents and dealers of forbidden knowledge. Baird skulked through town, seeking a means of overthrowing the Romans and liberating his fellow Celts. I sought dealers of trade goods that might need shipment to the Mediterranean and knowledge of routes which might take us there most rapidly.
We all found some limited degree of success, with Baird contacting some nature spirits who promised him aid, Amadi 🗡 making a few sales of stolen goods, and me learning that we could make good time traveling up river at Le Havre, if only we could secure the necessary travel documents to pass through Roman territory. Such documents would be difficult for a Norseman such as myself to find by legitimate means, so our most certain course would be to travel across the channel to Britain, where the loosely regulated Roman collaborators would be more likely to grant us travel papers in exchange for a bribe.
All was going well.
Unfortunately, Fristuld 🍺 ‘s plan to get drunk was also going “well.” 3 Worse, some of the locals had started buying him drinks, 4 seeming to think that the prospect of a 6’4″ nordic barbarian raider getting in to a bar fight would provide for an entertaining evening. I succeeded in extricating Fristuld 🍺 from the bar, but made a critical error: I did not force him to surrender the half full mug of mead before departing.
As Chensuke 👊 and I manhandled Fristuld 🍺 down the streets towards the docks, he stopped, downed the last of the mead in his mug, and hurled the heavy earthenware container away into the darkening street. The mug flew with preternatural accuracy, as if guided by the very hand of Loki, and struck a passerby in the head with deadly force. I rushed to the man’s side to lend him aid, but the savage blow had caved the laborer’s skull in like a barrel struck by a blacksmith’s hammer. 5
The situation might have been salvageable, were it not for Fristuld 🍺 ‘s response.
Upon seeing the downed man, Fristult laughed with such delight at his skill that he immediately drew the attention of a dozen or more residents of the town. Before I could reach his side to render him silent and pull him to the ship, Fristuld 🍺 began boasting of his strength, further inciting the growing mob. As it became clear that the common folk were angered as his callous felling of their neighbor, Fristuld 🍺 decided to make his escape.
Unfortunately, his chosen method was to break down the door of the nearest house to try and hide inside. Worse, that house was occupied by a family just settling down to dinner. This resulted in the family grabbing for their knives and cudgels and joining in the mob attempting to bring down Fristuld 🍺 .
It was then that Chensuke 👊 leapt into action. He charged through the mob and employed all of his martial prowess to strike down Fristuld 🍺 . Proclaiming himself a vigilante, seeking justice after Fristuld 🍺 assaulted his brother, Chensuke 👊 pushing his way through the mob, dragging the unconscious Fristuld 🍺 by his hair. The mob was so shocked by these remarkable events that we were all able to make our way back to the ship, where I ordered the crew to cast off immediately, lest we be discovered by the town guard. 6
- It’s not Gundahar 👑 ‘s throne, in case you’ve forgotten.
- While J went to the garage to get more Coronas.
- J was not familiar with the difference between beer and mead and was role playing his character as downing mug after mug of mead as if it were Bud Light. When we explained this to him, he joyfully kept role playing… possibly inspired by the dozen-ish empty cans surrounding him…
- While the players were having long side discussions of the use of early forms of beer as a slave / peasant “liquid bread” as opposed to a recreational beverage.
- Z gave J something like a 10% chance of hitting someone with the thrown mug… he did. Then he rolled a critical hit. Even with an improvised weapon, the poor level 0 commoner had no chance.
- Minimizing shore leave and having a protocol for rapid departure would soon become standard practice…