Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Into The Harz
Weather: with cool temperatures and an intermittent drizzle, with a gentle breeze
As the party grumbles that this drizzle is never going to end, it has been miserable these last two days since the death of the pig. Yesterday, Monday, it drizzled all day. This morning, the party was awoken by another wet series of small storms, followed by threatening conditions and then more of this accursed drizzle. It grows clearer why there are few if any on the road, and most of the populace has taken to their homes.
The grey outcroppings of rock throughout the Salzgitter Hills, through which you climb to get to the Harz Mountains south of Hildesheim, turn black with the wet, and the ranger is quite aware that any number might serve as splendid cover for an ambushing brigand. The birch and alder trees are stripped of many of their leaves by the storms, but there is still enough to occasionally give a sloppy kiss to the mounted party should they happen to need to step off road for a bit of water or to make camp.
The Harz mountains rise 2,000 feet above you as you slip into the Landgravate of Hesse, and the lands belonging to the House of Cassel. You pass by the town of Cassel Tuesday morning, a big city about half the size of Lubeck - strung along the Fulda river. Throughout the day you follow the Fulda through a pass in the Harz, just beyond Fritzlar.
During the two days you've paid three silvers each in road tolls.
You rest upon the top of the pass, not that high (perhaps 950 feet above sea level), amid oak trees and silver birch. A stone run extends from near the road up the west slope, some of the stones being two feet in diameter. You are struck by the sight of two wolves among the stones; one hidden between the rocks, observed by the Ranger first and pointed out to the other party members - the other moving from rock to rock in an almost energetic dance, as it watches the party from a hundred, hundred and fifty yards away. The one on the rocks, says Janos, is the male.