Meleck

Pigeon Spit: A medieval fantasy story.

Abbot Andrew

Andrew picked himself up and went to the table with the note. [color=00ff00]"What we talk about stays here," he looks at the two of them. Then he continues by showing them the envelope. "I have been summonsed to stand before the One Tooth Guild," discomfort in his voice, "They are my second family, the ones who raised me and took care of me when my mother died." Not knowing what else to do he sits down, "I'm one of them or was one of them." He knew this wasn't news to the harbor master, but Master Brom wasn't from here.

He continues, [color=00ff00]"The guild has a tradition that the oldest living thief is the master, and as thieves go, I'm old. But, I haven't been able to make contact with them to come to an understanding." Waving his arms wide to indicate the building he says,"This was the headquarters when I was a child, and this room is where I stayed."

Looking at the Harbor Master he asks, "So has the captain still been around looking for his sword and dagger?"

He waits for the reply then continues, [contact=00ff00]"So far, I figured people would talk to me and make contact. I forgot that this is a lot more complicated. I figured the boy would tell the message to the thief that was in our rooms and not spread the word around. I should have known better. Brom, am sorry for the rocks being thrown. I figured that building the wall would let me see how well you teach and give me a chance to interact with the guild rats." He taps the table gently. "I have been trying to come up with a plan to fix this," he says, "No matter what I say, they won't believe me. So, I am thinking I am going to need to capture the new head of the Cat's Claw and bring the family back in line. Then we do something to get money and supplies flowing into and out of our port and then people."

He wasn't sure he wanted to be the Guild Leader, but he would do it till they played nice with the bigger plan.

He looks at the two of them, [color=00ff00]"Does that seem right?" he asked the two of them, looking for options.

The Girl From the Forbidden Kingdom

Robert moved to get water for the girl. He grabbed the bag of medical supplies that he picked up for the farm. Things he could use to bandage her wounds. The dirt road was not the best place to dress a wound. He would do his best. He wondered what she was doing out this far towards the boarder. The girl was a mystery.

Coming back he lifted her at the shoulders, and gently poured water into her mouth to drink trying hard not to choke her. He then started to tend her wounds. He gently rolled on her side to take a good look at it. Then poured some water to clean the dirt and dust out of it. With some skill, he went to work bandaging the girl. He had tended to wounds of his friends where dueling less about honor and more of a sport. With gentle but firm touch, he bandaged the wounds. Looking to see if they were a bite or from a weapon. Then he gave her more water to drink. He planned to use some of the magic to stop any serious bleeding or if she were unconscious he would push his magic to heal more of the wounds.

Most people reacted to magic in different ways. For some it seemed like a warm sunshiny day, gentle and calming. Other like a storm of emotions and force. Robert felt it as pure power surging through him. He wasn't sure how those who received the magic felt.

Pigeon Spit

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Pigeon Spit: A medieval fantasy story.

Abbot Andrew

Andrew called out, ”Come in” He still not able to sleep. Still tapping the sword sheath against his head, thinking.

The scribe shook her head as if Andrew needed to get over his pity party and opened the door to his room. She went over and pulled the window shades so the gloom could come in. On the table sat the Abbot’s breakfast, untouched. She shook her head disapprovingly and looked at the guests a look saying “He’s all yours.” Bowed slightly, then left the room.

After the door closed Andrew asked, “Assassins in town yet?” Not getting up from the pile of bedding since his cot was occupied. He asked, half mockingly.

Andrews thinking was much like the weather, gloomy and dreary. At least Suzy was doing better this morning, the man's arm and ribs would heal, and the woman with pneumonia would heal with some strong herbs and tonics. He wasn't a complete failure. The problem with dealing with thieves is they were thick skulled and needed a lot of persuading to come to terms with. What would motivate them - fear, greed, power.. He needed the name of the Guild Master and who started the new faction. He hoped that the Harbor Master would share it.

He wanted to hear what the men wanted to share with him.

Pigeon Spit: A medieval fantasy story.

Turf Wars

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Scribe Drom

Pigeon message to the King:
My Lord, things here are going as you expected. Andrew has caused quite an uproar in the town. I believe that he has been contacted by the thieves guild, but has not moved in that direction at this time. The rumor on the street is that the Abbot has causes some unrest with in the thieves guild. This has spilled over to the population in general. It will be interesting to see if he can negotiate a peace or if they will attempt to kill him.
I am happy to report that he has started acting like a Abbot and healing people. Three people are in his care at this time. If he can keep himself from getting into the middle of things and stirring the pot, he might endear himself to the people.
Andrew appears to have made an Ally in a Master Bork Valding, a bright enough fellow who appears to want to make a name for himself. Along is a copy of his credentials. Please have your spies investigate him.
Always in your service as I have been to your Father and Grandfather,
Abbigale

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Abbot Andrew

Andrew had heard the voice of his little rat during the night. He knew Susie which meant that he had a chance at redeeming himself with the guild. Scribe Drom, did a nice job of cleaning the girl up. Her hair was clean and combed, a ribbon was in her hair and a leather strap made a nice belt, making the shirt into a dress. He watched Drom in amazement of how maternal she seemed caring for the child. A scowl of a look had made Andrew look away as she washed and changed the girl. He could care less about that, he was surprised by his scribe. She rarely talked to him.
As Andrew came back to his room, He found the note on the table he was using for a desk, rolled and dropped. It was a summons to appear before the guild. He was on trial or at least had some explaining to do. To make matters worse, the Captain came and gave the evening report. Fights had broken out down towards the shore and a couple houses broken into. Andrew had an inkling of what was going on and most of it was his fault. At that moment he felt very alone. He told the captain to have the men spread the word that the port was reaming open and there was no plan for martial law to be imposed. He did not want to say he started that rumor. So he didn't. The captain was smart and knew Andrew was involved some how. He left shaking his head.

Andrew called out, "Drom, please make it so I can sleep for a few hours and that I don't have to have an audience with any citizens till this afternoon." He need to get some dark clothing and make a plan. He had another day to prepare. Maybe Master Bork might help him figure out a plan. He lay on the bet tapping his forhead with the captain's sword. His luck the captain would walk in and see it.

Pigeon Spit: A medieval fantasy story.

You will be missed.

Pigeon Spit: A medieval fantasy story.

Pigeon Spit

The city is in a state of unrest. The new "leader", along with the rumors of martial law and closing the port, and the Gold tooth hideout being confiscated.

Elements of the Gold tooth are plotting to remove the new leaderships and a new thieves guild is being formed. Six members had left the guild to strike out as a new guild - The Cat's Claw.

The night coughs is spreading through the poor part of town - two people have died from it.

It looks like there will be rain for the next few days, stopping progress on construction projects.

Pigeon Spit: A medieval fantasy story.

Sheet 1:

prices

drive.google.com/file/d/1cvJcX0YUtxJn…

Sheet 2:

Kingdom

drive.google.com/file/d/12piF-6lrtuua…

Pigeon Spit: A medieval fantasy story.

Abbot Andrew

Andrew was grateful for Master Bork's strength to pull the arm straight, so that he could set it properly. The dwarf thought he wanted to heal it. He smiled and explained he needed was his strength to straighten it. Re-breaking bones hurt and better to set it well the first time. His healing magic had helped some, but nature could do a better job on somethings. He listened to the Dwarf talking about the herbs and his liked the garden idea. That was something he could do. He listened and nodded to what the master said about his ideas. It was clear that he annoyed the dwarf, and would do so again if the need arrived.

In the darkness, he realized he use the wrong word. Maybe he meant, kiln. No but one of those would be good. Ah, smelter. He would ask about one of those. Some times his dwarvish is a off. He wasn't going to bring up the idea of finding a shipwright and maybe putting dry docks on the other side of the river next spring. He did not know what they would need. Selling copper ingots would make them a better profit than the ore. They would need the money as his uncle had other needs for his resources.

It was after midnight when the Andrew called down the stairs as not to wake the entire house, "Drom, Bring me a pair of pants and some more cold water." he paused, "A new shirt, towels and blanket too." The girl cried a little at his voice as her fever was spiking. He sushed her and kept rocked her, still humming and walking with her. The girl had done what children do when they are sleepy and sick. He wore her urine and vomit. Even her urine smelled sick to him. If it was an infection was bad and if she had eaten something poisonous, they were not past the worst of it. As strange as Drom seemed to him at times, she would help him take care of this, like everything else.

He wished he had a rocking chair, proper beds and linens for the people.

---

Scribe Drom

Down stairs Drom came out of her room in a robe and night dress. Both is a soft blue color, with a sash for a belt. She wore fancy fur lined leather slippers. She held a candle that smelled of honey suckles. She opened two of the chests that were placed in the hall. They had been moved there earlier when people started to arrive in need. She pulled out cotton pants, two shirts, another apron, a blanket. A few towels and wash rags came out another chests and all was stacked be taken up stairs. She grabbed a pail and gave it to a guard to go fetch fresh water.

The sleeping guard would have a very rough day tomorrow when captain got word of his situation. The Captain was lodged in the inn and was working out of the harbor master's office.

She heard the dwarf drawing on the walls and still fiddling with papers and cursing. He does not like elves, she though to herself, He does not know me yet. She thought that he was probably as crazy as the Abbot. The both seemed to have the habit of talking first then thinking about it.

She leaned against the door frame watching the moonlight dance on the water as she waited for the guard to return. A cat ran across the plaza and she smiled.

Pigeon Spit: A medieval fantasy story.

The crunch is coming. Just got excel on my laptop. Source data is downloaded, compiling pricing data...
Working on kingdom building, need to estimate lots... More to come, modifying rules some to

Weather effects coming.

Need to work on the modifiers