Pipin's Travelogue

Written by Pookas Kreations

My name is Pipin Longstrider, and I am from a Halfling tribe that are cousins to The Travelers. They are from a group of families that split from the Travelers decades ago. The main difference between them is the mounts they use in their travels. Instead of traveling with an Oliped, we live with Caravan Snails.
The Tribe that I grew up in has found out over the years that a well-balanced young adult develops better if they leave their family to learn away from them. Hence, the Walkabout was born. Another way is fostering with another Tribe.
The year before my travel year, I was set tasks on how to choose the best items to include in my pack, and how to create the tools I would need. There are many skills that I need to learn, at least the basics of them. Many of the items going into my pack, including the pack itself and the clothes I will wear, I made. My mother taught me these skills, how to repair them and make new ones.
This Travelogue is an account of my travels, things I have learned, and people I have met.

Purpose

This is a record of his travels during the Walkabout.

Historical Details

Background

I left my family's Shellwright name behind until I thought that I had earned it. So for now, I will call myself Longstrider; other names can be chosen or given as I travel.

Currently, my skills include the basics of any young halfing: hunting, foraging, care of young snails, and herd animals, basic cooking, healing, simple crafts, and survival skills.

Read the Document

Pipin's Travelogue

Excerpts from the journal of Pipin, son of South-Road Leaf-Whistles
Day 1: The First Mile I left the family caravan at dawn. My father gave me his best sculpting chisel; my mother gave me a jar of pickling salt. The rest of my family handed me a pack with basic traveling gear that I would need in my travels. I found Barnaby yesterday, a young snail, barely away from his mother's watchful eye, stuck in a dry creek bed. I cleared the debris, and he hasn't stopped following me since. I realized that he was a runt, and his family left him behind.
Day 4: The Salt-Lick Truce Barnaby was sluggish today. I realized the soil here is too acidic for him. I found a salt lick intended for cattle and traded a few copper buttons to the farmer for a chunk of it. Watching Barnaby absorb those minerals was like watching a wilted plant take on water. His shell already feels a fraction sturdier.
Day 12: Under the Willow It rained for three days straight. Unlike most halflings, I'm not miserable, especially since Barnaby was enjoying the deluge. I've rigged a small oilcloth tarp between the ridges of his shell. It's not a Vardo, but its dry and smells like home.
Day 19: The Shell-Shaper's First Cut I started "Spiraling." It's a delicate process--applying a mixture of lime, honey, and crushed bone to the areas where I want the shell to thicken. Barnaby seems to enjoy the attention. If I do this right, in five years, there will be a balcony right where my bedroll currently sits.
Day 26: The Whispering Woods We encountered a pack of coyotes last night. Barnaby didn't panic. He just pulled his head in and let out a low, wet hiss. The coyotes sniffed his shell and were repelled by his bitter vinegar smell and moved on. We are a small fortress, even if we're only six feet tall.
Day 33: The River-Float The bridge at Oakhaven was washed out. A wagon would have been stuck for weeks. I hopped onto the crown of Barnaby's shell, and he simply glided into the water. We floated across like a giant, leathery cork. I fished from his back and caught two large trout. Best dinner we've had in a fortnight.
Day 40: The Orchard Thief Barnaby ate an entire basket of fermented apples left out by a cider-press. He's been moving in zig-zags for three hours, and occasionally retracts his eyes into his head for no reason. I've had to lead him by the eye stalks like a stubborn mule. Note to self: keep him away from the orchards.
Day 47: The First Trade I met a traveling tinker today. He needed his rusted axle lubricated. I traded a jar of Barnaby's filtered slime (it's a better lubricant than pig grease) for a fine iron pot and a bag of peppercorns—my first independent trade. I felt ten feet tall.
Day 54: The Deep Burrow The heat was unbearable today. Barnaby dug himself into a cool pit of mud, leaving only the top of his shell exposed. I sat in the shade of his "roof" and spent the afternoon practicing my scrimshaw. I'm carving a map of our route onto a piece of shed deer antler.
Day 61: The Stunted Ridge I noticed a crack in Barnaby's lower shell. Panic set in. I spent the night boiling pine resin and mixing it with calcium powder to create a biological grout. I applied it by torchlight. He stayed perfectly still, as if he knew I was trying to heal him. The bond grows (at times, I seem to be getting emotions from him).

Close

Walkabout: the learning year (or longer) that a young Halfling goes through to learn what he needs to know to become a man. This is a coming-of-age trial.

Type

Journal, Personal

Medium

Vellum / Skin

Location

Atlantean Continent

Authors

• Pipin Longstrider halfling Traveler

Signatories (Characters)

• Barnaby Softshell caravan snail

Caravan Snail: These behemoths are bred and augmented to serve as living fortresses and merchant vessels. Their shells are not merely armor, but a living substrate; over decades, the halfing Shell-Shapers use mineral-rich pastes and gentle sculpting tools to guide the calcium growth, creating hollowed chambers, stairwells, and reinforced balconies.
They are a lifelong commitment for its nomadic halfling tribe. Unlike a wagon that can be replaced, a snail is a family member. The tribe's culture revolves around the "Great Pace"--the slow, steady rhythm of the trade routes.