With our fellow Wegwiur (Wolf Nomads) maintaining the Central Leering Keep we set our eyes on Northern Leering Keep. PsyBorn Yin-Salvalore has decided to spread the heroics of the mighty Sir Fiodar “Fedar” Osmanivič Mikhailcki (PsyBorn took liberty to add the title of Sir) in the taverns and will meet him later at his encampment to listen to the tales of his new adventures!

The winter is hitting particularly hard today. As we trudge through the snow, an old man crosses our path. With his blue eyes peering from underneath his tan, flat brimmed hat, he asks for our help. His village is in need of help as they have no resources and have been pillaged by raiders. When asked where the village is, he points with his cudgel slightly north from the road. Fiodar without hesitation accepts and helps the old man onto his horse.

Once they reach the village, the disheveled villagers approach the strangers. The village has smoldering building that were damaged by a raid and torn down walls. Hesitant to trust the strangers, the old man gets down and explains they are here to help. With their gazes never leaving the strangers they immediately become calm and trusting. We help repair damages and provide food for the villagers.

The raiders, are hulking masses of flesh and muscle. Ogres, much more than simple raiders. These foul smelling simpletons weren’t expecting a resistance force. We charge into battle swiftly taking them out. The brutish Ogres had supplies from a prior raid and we distributed them to the villagers.

The old man offers each of us rewards of the magical kind. Fiodar gives the man an offering for a charm, a thousand gold pieces no less! When he hands him the sack of gold the old man vanishes and the sack thuds to the ground. A villager asks them who they were speaking to? We give them the description of the old man and the villagers starting kneeling and praising Saint Cuthbert. Fiodar states the gold is a donation.

We rest for a few more days helping with more repairs and getting to know the villagers. We find out the village is called Cudgel’s Rest, a fitting name for worshipers of Saint Cuthbert.

Heading out for the Northern Leering Keep in the frigid weather, in which the pack seems very comfortable, we finally make camp about ten miles out of the keep. I still wonder about our friend Fiodar. What is his home like and what exactly does he expect from his fortune and fame. Longing to return back home, I shake off the snow from my fur and bury myself in with the pack dreaming of my family lost and family gained.

Altan – Wolf Sentinel