Franz Lohner’s Chronicle - Stature

An absent-minded man of mysteries, Franz Lohner relies on his bulging journal to keep track of occurrences, intrigues and arguments around Taal's Horn Keep. Sometimes his notes are even useful, believe it or not. The Franz Lohner Chronicles are extracts from that journal.

Now, I don’t want to seem like a moaner, but I don’t exactly get a lot of respect around here. Sure, I keep the keep supplied and (mostly) secure, I piece together bits and bobs about what’s going on in our embattled locale, and I settle what seems to be an endless parade of squabbles between our ragtag little band, but do I get a word of thanks?

Not hardly.

When I do, it’s almost always Sienna who does the deed. Ain’t exactly surprising - she is the resident grown-up among our little vagabonds, and has a bit more gumption than the rest of the Ubersreik Five – let alone my lads, who just don’t know any better. Being fair, Catrinne apologises too, sometimes, when she remembers that the lower orders might have feelings … but even that’s dropped off of late, as she’s grown ever more reclusive. Hardly paints these days, neither, which I’m thinking can’t be a good sign.

But do you know who folk do listen to? None other than our resident bard and candle-thief, Bardin Goreksson. Though it might not seem it, whenever Bardin talks, others listen.

I ain’t resentful, honestly I’m not. He’s been through the wars has Master Goreksson, and lost more than I ever have … and yet he still keeps smiling. (I think. Hard to tell with the beard.) More than that, he always has a kind word if you’re feeling down. Even for Kerillian who, between you and me, always seems to seek him out when she’s in one of her moods. I guess when you’ve seen everything Bardin has, you get a bit of perspective. Especially when most everything you’ve seen has a tendency to be going on over your head, and that’s no figure of speech.

It’s a tale I’ve heard time and again. A body’s standing a lonely watch, or staring off into the night, pondering on imponderables. And then, Bardin appears at their shoulder - or their lower ribcage, leastways – with an anecdote, a snatch of song, and a mug of something soothing. Only ever stays long enough to see that spirits are lifted, and then he’s gone.

Maybe he’s just taking his mind off his own troubles? Maybe he’s following the teachings of Valaya? But I tell you what, if anything ever happened to me, I reckon he’d be the one to step up and sort things out. Poor bugger. It’s one thing to be the source of morale uplift, and another to be calling the shots. Still, I can’t think of anyone better to get the job done, should it be needed.

Mustn’t tell him, of course. It’ll only go to his head.