Atlas Rules Resources Adventures Stories FAQ Search Links
Campaign journalby Gareth Larter
Folks, for your consumption, I present the first log file from my GURPS Mystara campaign.
"Hello, the camp"
Tereshka looked up sharply at the call, her sword glinting in the firelight as it lifted to a guard position. Her eyes flickered left, seeking some sign of her travelling companions.
In the flickering of the firelight, she could make out the brightly coloured wagon that was home to the first of her companions. Soffia, the young lady in question, was stood on the back of the wagon, a frown furrowing her brow as she looked in the direction of the voice.
A slight movement to her right revealed the short stature of her second companion. The gnome, one Klemwocket by name, had dropped his load of firewood and was unconsciously flexing his fingers as he peered intently into the darkness.
A brief smile creased the warrior woman's lips as she considered the unlikely band of travellers. She had met the mismatched pair in the wagon as she'd overtaken them on the Duke's Road. All three had been travelling north along the main highway that ran from Specularum, passed through Kelvin and Penhaligon before wending through the Altan Tepes mountains to Selenica in Darokin.
Tereshka rose smoothly to her feet and moved to one side, keeping the firelight out of her eyes. The gnome was smiling gently as he stared toward the roadway. He looked sidelong at her, bright eyes dancing behind the magnificent nose that characterised his race.
"One comes, a lone rider. From the road" said.
Tereshka nodded without comment. She knew full well that his eyes were far better than hers or Soffia's in this dim light. For all their travels together over the past few days as they made their way to Penhaligon, she still wasn't sure of her companions' abilities although she suspected that both of them had some small measure of the Art. As the shape of a lone rider formed out of the darkness, she pushed the thoughts away and raised her sword.
The rider halted at the edge of the firelight and smoothly dismounted before leading his horse into the camp. Tereshka's eyes quickly took in the worn but serviceable condition of his leather armour, the battered scabbard of a shortsword that hung from his belt, the paleness of his skin, the slenderness of his frame. Bright green eyes scanned the camp and its occupants as the young man absent-mindedly stroked the mare's neck, causing it to nicker contentedly.
"I saw your fire from the road, and thought to ask to share your company tonight." he said, gently stroking the mare's neck.
To be continued ...