4th Ed D&D In London

Interlude - Story From Aran's Past

In Which Aran Has A Drink Or Three

"Oh my Head!" Aran muttered to himself as he woke up. Given the heavy thumping in his head that he recognised as the start of a monster hangover he took a deep breath before opening his eyes.

His vision blurred but he could make out the fact that the ceiling above him was natural stone, from its shape and the detail that light was coming from one side he guessed he was in a cave, he started feeling a bit dizzy and sick so decided to close his eyes and try to gather his scattered memories before choosing his next move.

Instead of sight he chose to work out his situation from what he could feel, he was lying against a fur blanket and was still fully clothed, a lump pressing against his side meant that he had his weapons still.

Slowly he started to piece together the events from the previous night, he had returned to the village triumphant after retrieving a herd of cows that had escaped following a freak storm that had damaged their holding pen and allowed them to run off into the woods.

After lots of tracking and travelling he had rescued all except one unfortunate cow that had been killed by a pack of wolves but the farmers were relieved, as they had been too scared to venture into the woods themselves.
Given that the villagers did not have plentiful bags of money Aran had agreed to try to help them if exchange for a drink, which turned into many as each farmer seemed to bring him a bottle of something they liked themselves.
So after several glasses of ale, whiskey, cider, moonshine and an assortment of colourful cocktails Aran had wished them good night and stumbled out into the woods with a large flagon of honey mead for company.
That would explain the killer hangover he thought as he lay against the warm fur, but how had he ended up here…

He remembered singing badly as he made his way through the trees towards a stream that he had seen earlier, the stream had several side pools of slow moving water which he had noted contained fish just waiting to be caught.

There had been another fisher there Aran realised as he put two and two together, this must be the fishers home, they had got on quite well even if the other fisher didn't talk much.

That's the problem with living out in the wilds, you loose contact with other people. More memories returned, the fisher had seemed upset at being disturbed but Aran had offered him some of the mead and then the pair had started trout hunting.

The thing about hunting trout without a line and bait is to find one resting in a shallow pool then slowly move your hands under it and then scoop it out, not the easiest thing to do but even drunk Aran's reflexes were lightning
fast.

A short while later the mead had been finished and several large fish had been caught, the fisher preferred to eat them raw which was something that the strange Orientals from the Far East had introduced.

Each to their own he had thought as he had followed the fisher back to his cave and then swiftly cooked. The fisher tried some but then went back to eating it raw, then as the fire died out and the cold had set in, he had laid down in the cave to rest.

Aran smiled with the memory as he sifted through his foggy memory, most of the images were blurred and confusing but he thought he had placed it all together although there was a niggling issue that he was sure would be important.

"ARHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" said the fur he was lying on and Aran came to the sudden realisation that the one thing that might be worse then meeting an angry bear would be to meet one that had a hangover.

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