Making Friends With Furbolgs
By: Aylune
As the air turned cool and summer began to fade away that this trio of vagabonds made their way to the land of eternal winter. Arkin, Aylune, and Bearch had traveled north in an attempt to negotiate peace with the Timbermaw tribe, a group of filthy furbolgs that were the keepers of some rather valuable knowledge.
Unfortunately furbolgs do not take kindly to strangers, and were openly hostile to the trio. Forced to behave, as dead furbolgs tell no secrets the party tried something new, they tried earning their trust instead of turning to murder. A few brief conversations with a few easily intimidated Timbermaw clan members outside the den led the party to a resolution. The only thing the Timbermaw hathatedrd more than strangers were the winterfall furbolgs inhabiting Winterspring. So in an attempt to solve their problems without murder the trio found themselves murdering again.
It was a truly genocidal experience. Every winterfall furbolg that could be found was met with blades, claws, and poisons; those that tried to flee were run down and executed. Lovely Ruby furbolg blood painting the silent glistening white landscape. With the excellent tracking ability of the two druids, and the rogues uncanny ability to get in close without notice there was no safety for their prey, no hiding place secure enough to protect them.
Finally after almost two hours of bloodbath Bearch shifted back into his elven form, tucking a stolen set of prayer beads into his napsack and wiping the blood from his hands onto his cloak.
"Ok I think I'm just unfriendly now."