Wine of Ghalons, A Knights Tale

The sound of summer insects cut out abruptly, alerting both Jean and his companion Antoine, moments before they both spied a rider galloping quickly toward them.
“Rologne?” said Jean
His eyes squinting to the far rise.
“Mmm Rologne, you can tell by the jiggling about the waist” said Antoine.

Jean was still suppressing a smile as the bounding rider reigned in his mule.
“M’Lud, I have news!” Rologne said breathlessly.
“A new pursuit?” said Jean.

Rologne bobbed his pot helm,
“And better than the wild boar of the river fields!”

Jean grimaced and Antoine shuffled in his saddle. Rologne knew instantly he had their attention, if not bringing up a touchy subject,
“M’lud, a vintner to the west told me his cellar was raided this past night.”

The young errant-knight immediately started wandering his eyes upward.
“No no m’lud, this is quite serious, the cellar was cleaned out of all manner of things. It sounds like organised raiders”
Antoine and Jean exchanged like glances,
“I’m cursed to slay within the walls of cellars” Jean said.
“Now now m’lord, we should investigate all the same, this is on your father’s lands” said Antoine.

He was right, it was a worthy venture. Keep good terms with the common folk and represent the White Lion. Antoine encouraged with a smile. Rologne already had his mule alongside and aimed for the distant vineyards. Both these men, though posing as chroniclers of Jean’s deeds, were capable fighters and they were certainly bodyguards on charge by his father.
“Alright, for the Lion” Jean said.
“The Lion” they chimed.

Quickly picking up the trot, the trio of riders jingled and rustled through the long grass, aiming for the vines far ahead.

---

“No clearly this is inferior to a Tilean blend!” said the priest.
“Tilean!? How dare you even speak of those vinegar merchants!” said the vintner.
“Well, then you need to show me your best, no?”

The Sigmarite priest leaned forward, his ruddy face leering at the vintner unsteadily, bleary eyes challenging the wine maker to make him drink his words, hopefully.
“Unfortunately, I lost most of my stocks this week past” the vintner’s ire cooled.
It was replaced by a deep anger as he took the sampler from the priest and brought forth a spittoon. The priest ignored it and swallowed, leaning back, he puckered his lips and made a sucking sound,
“So, no Merlot or even a Cabernet?” the priest said.
“No."

Drawing on an unkempt beard, the priest pondered,
“Where did they go?” he asked after an awkward silence.
“Raiders? they went-”
“I meant the wine casks” the priest interrupted.
“Well they were taken”
“By whom?”
“Well, by the raiders”
“Which way?”
“That way” the vintner indicated to the far forests.
“So the Raiders who took the casks went that way?” the priest thumbed east, over his shoulder.
“Yes” the vintner replied, then eyed new arrivals.

Having tied off their mounts across the farmyard, three breton soldiers walked over.
“Vintner, what news?” Jean spoke up.
Blinking as he entered, his eyes adjusting to the shade.
“My lord! I was just explaining the situation to this southern holy man.” said the vintner, recognising Rologne .

The arrivals themselves recognised a priest of Sigmar, beneath worn and stained robes of faded red.
“Son of Sigmar, welcome to my father’s lands” said Jean.
“Parched lands it seems” muttered the priest.

Jean blinked,
“Well, it is nearing high summer and the harvest, one could say-”
“He means my missing wines my lord” interjected the vintner.
His annoyance causing him to forget good graces.
After am awkward pause, Jean indicated Rologne,
“The wines that were stolen I’m told?”
“Yes, by the raiders”
“Who went that way,” the priest thumbed East, “with the wine.”

The three bretons looked on toward the far eastern forests of Ghalons then back at the two before them.
“Looks like we are all of common purpose” said Jean.
“Then you like wine?” the priest stood up and approached Jean with a measure of caution in his eyes, “best not try it here, vinegar it is.”

Behind and well within earshot, the vintner fumed.
“I enjoy wine Son of Sigmar, but today we need to pursue those who would steal from the producers of my father’s land” said Jean.
“A noble cause, so you seek the raiders who took the wine?” the priest said.

The bretons looked at each other,
“Well yes” Jean said.
The priest gathered himself, slapped the tasting counter wood and gathered up his warhammer,
“Then let us bring an end to these thieves and return with the stores!”
The bretons nodded.
“Excellent,” the priest leaned back to the quaint samplers nook, “when I am back, we will settle the Tilean matter”

The vintner didn’t answer, but glared at the holy man. The sigmarite placed several coins down and took two bottles from the shelves,
“I shall test your wares against samples from the casks, to ensure we return with the right stores”
“Yes, well a unique idea," said Jean, "any other information as to where they may have gone?”

Thankful for sensible conversation the vintner walked out from behind the sampler nook and approached his fellow bretons directly.
“Word has it that strange things have been walking the woods about the old winter keep in Ghalons, which lies in the direction those thieves went”
“A good first start m’lud” encouraged Rologne.
“We’ll head on; priest?” Jean locked eyes with the holy man.
"And whom is it I travel with?" the priest said.
“My name is Jean D’Ardain, son of Baron Benoit D’Ardain, the White Lion and protector of the coast of Aquataine."
“Hendle” said the priest after a beat.
“Hendle…?”
“And a Priest of Sigmar, yes. That too.”
“Do you have a mount brother Hendle?” Jean spoke after another swkward pause.
“No.”

The bretons looked to the wine maker,
“I have a donkey that could bear the journey” he suggested.

It took two days of searching, but sure enough, before them sat the overgrown entrance to the long bereft winter keep of eastern Ghalons.
“Well, smells like trouble” muttered Hendle.
“A foul stench rises certainly” grimaced Antoine.
“Pardon me, the roast quail did not agree” interjected the priest.

Raising up his shield and drawing his father’s gifted short sword, Jean steeled his nerves, ignoring the banter.
“Let’s seek out these foul thieves”
“And retrieve the wine” Hendle added smartly.

Carefully picking their way down a stairwell that was in a terrible state of repair, they each noted sign of recent traffic. Jean looked to his companions who all bore the same look of concern’ their first stop may be the right one. Pressing into the gloom, Rologne lit his torch and flashed the light of it into dark shadows. After a time they entered a large chamber, the signs of recent disturbance even more prevalent.

Hendle edged to one side and looked about,
“Nothing here but-”
“The key! the key..portcullis, lock it..” uttered a deathly voice.

The wheezing rattle caused everyone fright; especially Hendle, whom dropped his bottle mid-swig.
“Curses!”
“It’s not witchery Hendle, a Dwarf! Look!” Jean hushed the priest.
“I meant, it was my last bottle from the vineyard.”

Jean ignored the rueful mutterings and leaned in close. The Dwarf was breathing hard, fumbling for something close. Jean saw the rusted key and took it up,
“This key?”

Fading eyes affirmed, then the stout dwarf passed away. His other hand falling aside to release a black arrow shaft with red feathering.
“That doesn’t look good” commented Rologne.

Almost immediately several cackling voices came from the shadows, and with them appeared goblin archers and spearmen, the perpetrators of the Dwarf’s demise no doubt.
“We’re ambushed!” shouted Jean, swinging about fast.

His arc slew two in a single blow; yet so startled at his sudden success, he missed the third. The others set about defending themselves, with Hendle shoving aside his attacker, to barge into the gap created by Jean.
The priest’s hammer came down and killed another goblin as Antoine sent an arrow into the next. Black arrows flitted between the darting fighters, sword and spear clashed.

Very quickly the party finished with the goblins. But before they could make good their situation, the scuffle attracted the attention of several gigantic spiders, the likes of which Jean had never seen.

They hacked at the arachnids, slaying all but one, which quickly ensnared Antoine. They archer yelped in fright, his reaction strong enough to break the bonds about him. Hendle spun about and squished the insect of unusual size with a single blow, then prayed into his ring.
Everyone felt slightly buoyed by the Sigmarites’ sudden faith. The gloom returned and a cold quiet settled about the party.
“Press on?” questioned Rologne.
“Definitely” grinned Jean, his sword tested and his heart beating a tattoo.
“Excellent” agreed the priest.

As one they stepped forward into the corridor ahead..

No sooner had they stepped through into the corridor, when a portcullis slammed down behind them.

“Good thing we met the Dwarf, poor soul”

Jean eyed the priest, wondering if the man meant what he said.
“We press on, at least we can get out” he added.

The group moved forward slowly, wary of another ambush. Proceeding through one, then another corridor, they finally came to a stairwell that went down even deeper. At it’s foot was a gated door, partly ajar.
Rologne leaned on his spear, “Looks like our way in..”
They edged forward only to be met by a swarm of giant bats, escaping through the doorway. The frantic creatures immediately attacked the startled party. They fought back, cutting down the wild creatures in moments.

Kicking aside the corpses Rologne discovered a keen tipped spear, impressed he stowed it smartly then followed the others.

They came out into a cavern system, lit by glowing fungi and earthen scented, cloying air. Quickly encountering giant rats and a few sentries patrolling the cavern tunnels. (We rolled abysmally for monster events, 3 rats, a spearman and an archer).

After quickly silencing the last sentry, Jean was the first to see they had come out onto a ledge, where again they were assaulted by a swarm of spiders. Not easily startled this time, the party dispatched the insects quickly. The group was grim and determined now, quietly moving forward, buoyed by their easy successes, but wary of it all changing in a heart beat.

Another flight of bats swooped and flapped about their heads, and again the party coolly retaliated – killing every one. Looking ahead they realised they had finally uncovered the thieves stores. Quietly taking stock of the items they had so far procured from monsters and the fallen about the caverns, the party hatched a plan.
“..and then we get the casks?”
“Yes, then we get the wine Hendle,” Jean paused, looking about his older companions, “if there is a ring leader in this final section, it’s mine.”

The two men at arms immediately understood, Hendle just raised his brow and took a quick swig of his gourd.
“Lets go”

Stepping through into the lair of the Goblin boss, the bretons and the drunken man of Sigmar confronted a final horde of minions for the final fight..

The tableau only lasted a moment, the young knight leaping into the fray. Hendle was beset upon by a horde of snotlings, the priest fending off the little greenlings with curses and wild waving of his flagon. Antoine loosed off a shot which skewered a goblin spearman and Rologne stabbed the goblin immediately ahead of himself. But deep in the brawl, Jean fought hard for the Goblin leader, his blade quickly killing lesser foes as he sought a duel with the bloated goblin.

Arrows flitted past and spears gouged his shield, but Jean’s single minded determination bore through the goblins until Bretonnian steel met the blades of this vile leader, he issued forth an honourable challenge.
“My name is Jean D’Ardain! Son o-”

An arrow sliced his shoulder as the goblin leader head butted him, then slashed both swords across Jean’s chest. Winded and mortally wounded (All 7 wounds in two hits), the young knight fell backwards as the Goblin leader closed in. Antoine cried out, loosing an arrow which cut down the archer responsible. Rologne finally ran through the spear man before him and rushed to protect the young lord. Desperately he threw the elegant spear, only to miss as the Goblin jinxed aside!

Meanwhile Hendle was engaged in mortal combat with the last snotling in the cavern, crushing the aggressive runt, hopped up on psychedelic mushrooms – with a double attack of holy power.

Tasting grit and foul earth on his lips, numbing pain and the slowness of every action – Jean barely registered the vial of healing potion roll out of his satchel and in front of his hand. Finally realising (like I did) he gripped it quickly, rolling over to down the fluid just as the Goblin Boss drew back to finish him.

Resurging with energy, Jean stood to his feet unaided with preternatural speed, shoved the Goblin leader’s swords wide with his shield – to drive home his shortsword in one single penetrating blow. (Auto-hit talisman then a 6, go Jean!) Displaying little elegance, the young man gutted the creature, twisting out the sword when certain the foul creature had died on his blade.

Moments after, every goblin was dead, their spirit broken they had died quickly to the blades, hammer and arrows of Jean’s companions. It was over.

Hendle wandered toward to the young knight, who was inspecting two crimson tears on his chest piece, where once savage wounds had bled.
“You’ll get used to the healing powers of holy potions and prayer lad”, he smiled through his beard.

Taking a swig from his refreshed gourd he sat atop the crate next to Jean,
“That and the ailment relieving qualities of good alcohol; that vintner was right, his stuff is fantastic”
Looking back at Jean, the priest saw the look which needed little translation, he offered up the gourd.
“Thanks” replied Jean, allowing a small taste to warm his throat and chest, “it is good” he agreed on returning it.
Hendle nodded whilst downing another swig.

The errant knight and the priest watched Rologne and Antoine gather trinkets and other worthy treasures from the corpses; in a short while they would all begin hauling goods out, but for now they enjoyed the calm after the storm.

The Players :

Rologne, Antoine, Jean and Hendle.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed the run. Scared the heck out of myself with Jean going down, nearly forgot about the healing potions! haha.

- Seb