Winter 2022 Narrative

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Drew AGB Co-Owner

Artisan
Gettysburg Staff
By the first frost, we knew this would be the sort of winter that crept into the bones.

When the snow started, guards from the village and the Barony at large did what they could with help from adventurers. They offered thicker, sturdier clothing, had the blacksmith forge weapons and shields, and some healers came around to treat wounds and disease. Foraging in advance of the winter season had been scant and the blight on the land made us hesitant to eat what we could find. As the old marms always said, if the animals won’t eat it, why would you? With the Baron still missing, some of our guards relented and came home to tend to the needs of their families and see them through the winter.

Those who remained were at least well-geared toward the end of the season, but even their hushed talk in the tavern as they came off watch worried the people. The nights were quieter, but so were the roads, kingdom patrols being fewer and further between, even from a distance. Abandoned caravans spelled dark omens on the Southern roads, with the howling of wolves and something else in the distance, the crack of branches and reek of decay carried on the wind. Some even said they spotted twisted, eyeless dryads with the taint of corruption being set upon by wolves and… something like ‘em. If not for the adventurers residing in Knoch’len being flush with gold from their travails, would the merchants have bothered to make their dangerous trek?

We are glad they persisted - though the guard around Knoch’Len and the perimeter that some helped set has brought some scant peace of mind, what if we’re next? Towns and villages to the South were empty. Some seemed deserted, others showing the struggle in blood and tracks in the snow, but not one had bodies remaining.
As the winter dragged on, of all things bugbears have been coming up out of the ground, out of caves or those tunnels, who knows. As if Barran itself has heard our plea to give us a moment of respite, they haven’t bothered attacking any people or livestock.

The granary and cellars are running low, but the frost and snow killed off what remained of the blighted plants. The batty old herbalist gathered what she could before it was unusable, but even she hasn’t been able to say if the corruption will return with the spring.

Nobody knows who did it yet, or they aren’t saying anything, but one night the old Sheriff’s office was burnt down. Few folks talked about some fancy cup, probably worth somethin’, but there was nothing left in the ashes.

A spot of hope after a hard winter, there has been talk of a benefactor coming ‘round to employ the guards properly in the Baron’s absence.
 
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