RPGLurker

Intermittent flashes of lightning exposed the muddy trail through the pouring night gloom. Ahead a wagon, missing a rear wheel, listed to the right with a pile of pelts dumped into a drainage ditch. A man shifted uncomfortably along the driving bench pulling a second pelt around his shoulders. Gribble approached the wagon cautiously and spoke in an annoying high pitched nasally voice, “Looks like you found some trouble.”
The man darted upright pulling a crossbow from the seat rail. The weapon lodged for a moment and in his exuberance to free it, fired into the darkness off the side of the road. The man scrambled to load another bolt while he addressed Gribble. “Look, I’m armed and you don’t want to mess with me.” The man’s eyes darted from the empty space to the crossbow in his hands, but he could not see anything in either direction.
The locking mechanism would not engage and the man had to set the bolt down to use two hands to secure the bowstring. Once locked in place he felt around unsuccessfully to locate the dropped bolt. Gribble continued, “I could help you, if you want?”
After fumbling around for several more seconds, the frustrated man slammed the crossbow down in the wagon. Ironically, this caused the soaking wet crossbow to dry-fire and snapped the bowstring. He turned and focused his attention on the opaque blackness before him. He resigned himself to his unfortunate circumstance and reluctantly continued. “Thought I could beat the storm. Turns out, it slowed me down enough I didn’t even make the daylight. Stupid ruts pulled the wheel right off my wagon.”
Squinting to peer into the darkness, the man was surprised when the responding voice came from below the edge of the wagon. This stranger must be standing in a hole or was the size of a child. Either way, he would not likely be able to do anything to help with the wagon. Still, it was a bit comforting knowing he was dealing with someone whose stature made them less intimidating. “Not sure what you are going to do to help. Sheared a pin off, can’t keep a torch lit, and in this darkness…,” the man’s voice trailed off, “may as well wait for sunlight. Besides, we’d need two strong men to lift the wagon and a third to replace the wheel. So unless you’ve got a companion, I guess we are done.”
As he leaned back in his angled seat, he reached under his tunic and grasped the hilt of his dagger. He sure hoped this was not the front-man for a group of thugs. Either way, there was no way some highwaymen was making off with his meal ticket. “This rain can’t be good for your pelts,” Gribble stated flatly, “nor the muddy run-off”.
The man let out a heavy sigh. Suddenly the pelts did not seem so important any more. He wished he had just unhitched his horse, left them, and rode into town. “Well, the name is Derby McGill. What did you have in mind?”
“I just need to find a rock, and a lever.” Gribble’s retreating voice sounded as he walked back down the trail. A flash of lightning revealed the silhouetted back of a small cloaked figure half the height of a normal man. He had heard of halflings, though he had never seen one in this territory.
“It’s no use,” replied Derby as he stepped down from the driver’s seat. “You can’t see a thing in this miserable muck.”
Gribble’s voice startled Derby as he returned from the side of the road and was much closer than expected, “I found a rock. Take this to the wagon. We can use it as a fulcrum.”
An object bumped against his leg and Derby instinctively wrapped his hands around the rock. The hands that pulled away from it were tiny, like a five year old. “Now I just have to find us a lever.”
Footfalls faded into the patter of rain as Gribble again retreated into the darkness. “This must be the smallest man alive,” thought Derby. A couple minutes later Gribble returned dragging a tree branch and pushed it against the side of Derby’s leg. “Here. Finish pulling the side branches off our lever.”
Gribble crawled under the wagon and shifted the rock near the rear. “OK. Just hand me the end of the branch and I will position it under the axle support. .. No, to the left… I mean your left.”
Derby poked the branch under the wagon and tried to follow the directions, but in the darkness he could not see what he was doing. After a couple of minutes the branch was finally in place. “Give me a minute to grab the wheel.”
Gribble crawled out from under the wagon and grabbed the fallen wagon wheel dragging it to the side of the wagon. “Okay, push down.”
The wagon lifted and Gribble dragged the wheel in place. With a piece of tree branch lodged into the pin hole, Gribble pronounced the wagon fit for short travel. Derby stood at the edge of the wagon, and one by one Gribble carried the pelts from the ditch and handed them to Derby who in turn stacked them into the wagon. Retrieving the pelts in this darkness was a task Derby dreaded, but stacking them, this was a job he could do with his eyes closed, which was a good thing since having his eyes opened didn’t improve his vision in this darkness.
Gribble took his hand and helped him into the wagon, turned and sat in the driver’s seat. “You can see well enough to drive in this?” Derby shook his head. He was not used to riding anywhere but the driver’s seat and the thought of someone else driving them into a ditch was a bit disconcerting.
The trail passage was uneventful. By the time the storm broke, Derby had kind of grown used to traveling in the dark. The clatter of hooves ahead, the grinding sounds of the wheels below, the distant sounds of the passing storm, and stories shared by the traveling companion he had still never seen focused his senses. Derby found himself listening with his eyes closed to improve his concentration. Gribble was the smallest of fourteen siblings. His family grew up in an oppressive community where Hackmach had ruled for more than a decade. He endured ridicule for being the smallest and weakest of his family. A day without food was common, and anything he found was often taken away. Eventually he reached a breaking point and headed out on his own, only to find a world that continued to mock him for his diminutive size. The world was no better than his family and Gribble found himself alone.
After an hour on the trail, the lights of Drapewood were clearly visible. “And this is where I leave you friend,” pierced Gribble’s voice from the darkness.
Gribble draped the reins over Derby’s hands and slid over the side of the wagon. “What are you talking about,” argued Derby. “The least I can do is buy you a hot meal and a warm ale. You really saved my bacon out there.”
“I don’t think I would be welcome in your tavern,” replied Gribble.
“Nonsense. I have been doing business in Drapewood for twenty years and they wouldn’t dare scorn anyone I called friend.” With a chuckle and a smile Derby continued, “they can’t afford to really, I am the only rancher within two days ride, and they’re my family.”
The argument continued for several minutes until Derby raised his hand. “Look, I am going to walk straight to the front door. You follow the trail that goes around and across Dorn’s Bridge and I will meet you around back. Don’t worry about me finding my way in the dark, I grew up in this town and I will make sure you are treated well and given the heroes’ welcome you deserve.”
He could not see through the pitch black cloud covered darkness, but Derby could hear the babbling brook that dipped down along his path. He hopped to the other side pleased with himself for negotiating unseen obstacles. The dark trail gave him a new appreciation for sound, and the roasting meat on the fire gave him an improved appreciation for smell. Derby took a deep breath and thought, “Amazing the way your other senses are heightened when you lose your sight.”
Derby burst in the front door and an uproar of greetings assailed him. Two children ran from the opposite side of the fire pit and jumped into his arms shouting “Uncle Derby!… Did you bring us something?… Eww, you’re wet.”
Derby set them on the floor and reached into a shirt pocket. “Well, it may have melted a little bit…” Derby pulled a string from his pocket that was covered in tiny crystals and pocket lint. “Well, looks you got a little more than you wanted, but I promise you will love it anyway.” He passed the rock candy to the children who giggled and ran away to enjoy their new found treasure.
“Look,” Derby projected his voice causing everyone to fall quiet. “I met a man on the trail who brought me through the storm. He spent his whole life feeling like a circus freak due to his small size. Let’s give him a big welcome and a warm meal.”
Everyone nodded in agreement as the back door burst open and two teenagers stumbled through. Mikail, the larger of the two, shouted in a breathless voice, “Uncle Derby, a goblin was stealing your wagon but we chased him off.”
“No. I hit him,” argued Daryl. “You can see there is blood on the bench.”
Derby charged through the door pushing his way past the teenagers. “He is not a goblin, he is just a short man to whom I owe a debt of gratitude.” Derby found the horse and pelt laden wagon sitting under the torch lit verandah. A visible blood trail left the driver’s seat and extended past the torch light.
“He was green,” argued Daryl.
“And with pointed ears and fangs,” added Mikail. “I saw him clearly in the torch light. You’re lucky he didn’t rob you blind.”
“Or try to eat you,” Daryl interjected.
Derby stood staring out over the field shaking his head. “Lucky indeed he thought… Get Constable Rick and the hounds. We’ve got to follow this beast back to his lair before his vile minions come after us. Cowardly goblins never travel alone. If you see one, you can be sure a pack waits in ambush .”
The boys ran from the tavern toward the center of town…