Where we last left off, our titular spies were stranded in a temperate forest, on an island in the the eye of a storm, crawling with pirates, unseen dangers, and an insane immortal sorcerer.
They took their leave of the camp, after burying the talisman that had allowed them to traverse the storm, overturning the dinghy, and covering the whole thing with the dinghy's canvass (and a liberal layer of branches). Their first foray into the forest led them northerly, and after a long damp trek, they set up camp once again.
However, their barrel of salt pork managed to attract one of the handful of bears that hadn't yet gone into hibernation. Looming out of the darkness and grunting and growling to himself, the bear advanced on the camp where the party slept - all save for dwarf, on watch with a brace of pistols. Considering our dwarf's player has had some unfortunate run-ins with bears in games of the past, and lets be fair, a hungry bear is not the most fun thing to encounter in the dark.
Potentially afflicted with flashbacks to a certain 5e game where his poor monk was slain by a starving, emaciated bear, our dwarf's player informs us he's taking aim at the dark shape and firing.
There's a curious (and enjoyable) little bit of rules in LotFP where firearms cause a morale check. It was this, more than any damage that was caused that deterred the bear, and aside from the thunder of flintlocks, the rest of the night was less exciting.
In the morning they set out between some hills, skirting both the mountains to the West and the coast on the East. As afternoon crept upon them, they began to find fields being worked by the smallfolk of Aldentown. By evening, they'd reached the town proper, and had entered Aldentown's single establishment, the Moosefoot Inn.
Continued in Part IV.
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