Sandru's Journal: Day Seventeen

     An Adventure to be called "The Legacy of Brinewall"

                         (Title perhaps to change with further information).

 

On the long road to Kalsgard. Four hundred miles from Brinewall. Farther we trek into the cold wild!  Perhaps, even, the uncharted northern wastes.  Which, I must admit, worries even my wanderlusting heart. 

 

Cold is cold. And my belly likes warm is warm.  And food is food.  And women is women.  Might be hard to find three of my favorite things while buried the in the middle of cold is cold. 

 

But it is not for me to decide the destination of our caravan.  My job is to lead the men, drive the carts and chronicle our journey.  With the occasional song, dance and spot of merriment to bring joy to the hearts of the people. One must always do what one can to liven the troops!

 

Speaking of which, in light of our journey, a poem I constructed with the aid of Mr. Hetfield of Magnimar:

 

"Wherever I May Roam"

And the road becomes my bride,
               I am stripped of all but pride,
                               So in her I do confide,
                                        And she keeps me satisfied.

And with dust in throat I crave,
               Only knowledge will I save,
                               To the game you stay a slave,

                                                 Rover / Wanderer / Nomad / Vagabond.

And the earth becomes my throne,
                         I adapt to the unknown,
                                   Under wandering stars I've grown,    
                                                            By myself but not alone.

And my ties are severed clean,
               The less I have the more I gain,
                              Off the beaten path I reign,
                                              Rover / Wanderer / Nomad / Vagabond.

But I'll take my time anywhere,
               I'm free to speak my mind anywhere,
                                   And I'll never mind anywhere,
                                                       Anywhere I may roam.
                                                                 Where I lay my head is home.

Carved upon my stone,
               My body lie, but still I roam.
                                     

 

Day Twenty One on the Legacy of Brinewall

 

Amieko and Satsu have left it to me to choose the best path to Kalsgard. I have decided to steer clear of the coastal marshes and especially the central Grungir Forest, avoiding the rumors of creatures that lair in their woods.  Instead our route will go through Jol, then over the mountain passes at Kopparberget, up the river to Losthome, then over to Ullerskad and finally to Kalsgard.

 

As we head north I am mentally prepared for trolls, giants, goblins or even an occasional giant trap door spider or two. But what I am never prepared for ... and what drives me mad, bloody mad!  Is other caravans trying to steal my crew members! 

 

And so it was that we came across a Varisian troupe led by Yosker. Foul Yosker! And so it was that, on the sly, Black Hearted Yosker offered two of my drivers double what we were paying.  Double!  Thankfully, with some quick words by Amul and Ameiko (and my understanding, some quick coin by Sulk) the disaster was averted. 

 

I also note, much later that evening while doing a full inventory, we had appropriated (entirely unbeknownst to me), a rather spectacular box of spices I had completely  missed in previous cataloging of our goods.

 

Funny how that happens. 

 

Day Twenty Nine on the of Brinewall Legacy

 

Two days from Jol, the caravan is set upon by a pack of trolls. Led by a armed and armored beast of a troll.  The caravan rallied, circled and beat back the horrible creatures while Nisko led a charge against their leader.   The battle was short but furious.   When the troll leader fell the other creatures ran, howling for the wilds.  Thankfully, we suffered no casualties. 

 

The caravan took significant damage. We decided to press on and remove ourselves from the, obvious, near by lair of the trolls. 

 

Repairs would have to wait.

 

Day Twenty Three on the Legacy of Brinewall

 

We arrive at the citadel of Jol, which is an ancient fortress built across the Skirim river. It stands upon the foundations of the ancient Thassilonian city of Torandey. The collapsed Grand Arena is a visible reminder of its history: the old Arena was older than most of the city,and when it fell down one day a swarm of monsters came up out of the ruins. The people of Jol fought back the incursion, but have yet to repair the damage to the arena. Much of the city is tight-packed and cramped, with narrow streets and overhanging buildings. The people are somewhat insular, but still interested in trading with the us. We make a good return on our trade goods (Amul makes out like a bandit), but plunge most of our profits into buying more trade and repairing the wagons.

 

Day Twenty Five on the Legacy of Brinewall

 

The next stop on the road is the town of Tomgruv, a small town that serves to guard the gateways to the mines from kobold incursions. From time to time they are troubled by twenty-foot-tall mountain trolls. The locals typically hide when mountain trolls show up: the creatures are fully capable of decimating a town.

The mine entrance is heavily fortified, with stone ramparts and thick walls. Tomgruv does not represent a good opportunity for trading. The local economy is

just too shriveled.

 

We move on but discuss how this should stop our goblin pursuers. At the very least, if the goblins have to traverse the mountains in order to avoid the dwarves the journey will set them back a month.  We should be long gone by then, our trail cold. 

 

 

Day Twenty Six on the Legacy of Brinewall

 

Some distance outside Tomgruv we encounter a small encampment of three ogres.  They were not immediately hostile and it seemed as if they were interested in trade of some sort.  This was all to the limited degree in which we could understand them. They spoke not our tongues, we spoke not theirs. 

 

They kept saying two things, over and over, "Hello man creatures." and, "Trade Magic papers". 

 

We surmised they were looking to trade their magic papers for something more useful for the encampment. Both Amul and Sulk assured us the papers were indeed, "magic".  We dug out random bits of armor and weapons from the road.  The ogres lit up when they saw the troll axe.   

 

And so we traded the Axe for the magic papers, an arcane scroll of "Alter Self".

 

A fair trade.

 

Day Twenty Nine on the Legacy of Brinewall

 

Kopparberget is a mining town, located next to a copper mine. It is on the trade route because there is a nearby pass across the mountains, one that can support wagons. Most of the miners are dwarfs, and they generally live in and around the main pit of the copper mine. The characters note that the main pit is quite well defended, probably for the same reasons the mine at Tomgruv is so well defended. The place is ruled by a dwarf, Stengrim Ring-Forger.

 

Though the dwarven portion of the settlement is actually inside the mine proper, there is also a somewhat ramshackle cluster of buildings constructed on the edge of the mine. Most of this area is devoted to taverns and inns serving the caravan trade. The characters find that Kopparberget is at least three times as rowdy as any other place they have seen on this trip.

 

Hot meals, dwarven ales and warm beds!  

 

There was, also, the incident with Ameiko.  Not that I blame her but there seems to be a bit of pressure on her.  What with this whole Empress of a foreign land and all.  And so she seems to have been hitting the bottle to escape the stress.  

 

She may have told a large table of dwarven miners that she was the heir to the throne of Minkai and that she didn't want the responsibility and asked if any of them wanted to take her spot and rule the Tian people?

 

She got plenty of laughs and Satsu was able to get her away before she caused too much of a stir.  

 

Still, we can't have too many incidents like that.  

 

There are ... things hunting her family.   And hunting us.

 

Discretion being the better part of valor and all.

 

The dwarves turn out to be shrewd negotiators and we make very little profit inside their comfortable walls (though, I hear that Amul made "a sale!", it sounds as if he had something very rare within the walls of the dwarven colony and made a tidy profit off of it).  If the goblins weren't stopped by Tomgruv, surely the great walls of Kopparberget will slow them down. 

 

 

Day Thirty Two on the Legacy of Brinewall

 

We travel from Kopparberget through the passes and then north to Delmon’s Glen. This town is almost entirely inhabited by gnomes, albeit gnomes who

have completely adopted the local culture. The effect is very much that of a miniaturized Viking settlement, right down to the sod-and-stone longhouses. They do have one human-scale trading post and an inn called "the Raven’s Best". 

 

We hear constant rumors of one of the more interesting threats (that I have ever heard of) on the way to the next town - a cannibal warlock named Szigo. The claim is that he has an artifact-level sword and a gang of troll followers. He also runs a bed-and-breakfast and a little roadside stand. The gnomes encourage us to avoid him, but if we did run into him, we should definitely ask after his award-winning apple butter!

 

Delightful!

 

We have minor opportunities for trade but fill up our supplies. 

 

Day Thirty Five on the Legacy of the Brinewall

 

We continue from Delmon’s Glen to Losthome. Losthome is both a military outpost dedicated to pushing back incursions from the north and a logging

settlement that sends lumber down to the other settlements of Southmoor by floating them down the river

 

After an hour in the town it's obvious the folk have taken an immense disliking to our caravan. We decide it might not be worth out time to find out "the why" and decide to push on immediately, allowing time only for a quick re-shoeing for the horses. 

 

Their hostility was odd. They must have taken a dislike to our clothing or perhaps it was racially motivated.  We do have elves, half elves, halfings and half Variaisians. A fully eclectic bunch. 

 

We never find out where the hostility came from. 

 

Day Thirty Nine on the Legacy of Brinewall

 

A bloody day this has been.  If it wasn't bad enough that Shalelu spotted the raven ...thing.  Well, I asked her to describe it in her words: 

 

"I noticed that while the caravan has been shadowed by ravens through the entire trip there was one raven in particular that has followed us: a very large raven the size of a dog, with a single pinion tipped in red. The creature has consistently remained out of bow range, and as a result is quite hard to spot.

Sulk and I consulted Koya who warned us that creature was probably a bloodfeather raven, and that shooting it would bring extremely bad luck. She has heard stories suggesting that they are the servants of dark powers".

 

There has, apparently, been a third sighting of this beast!  A third!  And this is the first I am hearing of it!  Nobody tells me a bloody thing! 

 

If that wasn't enough we were ambushed at a night by bandits out of Kalsguard. All wearing a chain shirt, a light wooden shield and wielding battle and throwing axes. The bandits came out of the fog rolling off the river.  Thankfully, our sharp eyed scouts spotted them and we had a timely "Too arms!". 

 

A scattering of arcane magic from Sulk as well as the timely summoning of that bloody disgusting (but useful) giant wasp we soon had the bandits down, fled or captured.  

 

All in all, of the twenty that attacked, we killed five, captured six and allowed the other nine to escape.  

 

Kelda informed us that we could ransom them men when we got to Kalsgard and so we secured them behind one of the wagons. 

 

But Ameiko wanted information.  And so Sulk and Amul began to question one, which made the other prisoners uneasy, but that is to be expected.  What was unexpected was the gory result. 

 

After a few probing questions, which the prisoner ignored, an innocuous question was put forth by Sulk.  The prisoner cocked his head to the side as if thinking, "Is this something I can answer?"

 

Apparently he decided yes, and answered. 

 

And then his head exploded.  

 

I offer you this without exaggeration.  That poor man's head exploded in a rain of blood, skull fragments, teeth and brain.  It covered Sulk, Amul and the majority of the prisoners. 

 

As you can imagine, no one answered questions after that. 

 

Koya explained it was some sort of Mark of Justice spell, similar to a curse but much, much worse. Triggered when the cursed breaks an oath. 

 

We were left with only two clues from the attackers: 

 

1) Their river knarr, some 52 foot long.  Kelda tells us it's called, "Errol's Hammer" (whoever Errol is). Perhaps someone it Kalsgard will know Errol. 

2) Each of the viking bandits wore gold lion's head arm rings symbolizing someone. Perhaps this will lead us somewhere.

 

None of it felt to us a random attack.  We had been targeted. Perhaps for the obvious reasons known, supposedly, only to us. 

 

Perhaps this mysterious hunter has passed word to its masters in Kalsgard and they prod our defenses.  

 

I don't know. 

 

Lunch is over. We will take to the road again and arrive in Kalsgard before sun down.

 

I fear what plots and traps we are walking in to.