Warren's Log 3

Woe’s Log, Day 2 (cont.)

We slept all afternoon after the fight. It was evening, and we stopped in the tavern before packing it in.

In the tavern there was:
Old man Elian
The wood elf huntress again
The town’s sage, accompanied by two young ladies

Warashes has seemed distant since we returned… almost as though his form was possessed by the soul of another. Hopefully his strange disposition won’t last.

Sir Ricaver and Lord Wintersborne entered, in deep discussion.

Warashes noticed the lord’s guards keeping watch from the doorway, likely the only reason our Lord’s pockets survived the night. Well, the elf can’t be feeling too ill then.

Ricaver came to the party’s table, told us that Wintersborne has seen fit to reward us for our job today. (45 xp and 10 gp each.)

Next, Ricaver indicated that he had seen small signs of his companion around town. Nebraxis had the nerve to ask: small signs or small pieces? Further, Ricaver’s companion had a horse, and mightn’t he have needed to stable it? Nebraxis asked whether the knight’s friend might have origins similar to his. Ricaver’s response: he’s not from here, but not from as far away as you.

Meanwhile, Thuradin spoke with Elian, told him of our run in with kobolds on gold road.

Said Elian: he already knows all about it, as does everyone in the bar! Ricaver is sure singing our praises.

News of the day: foresters are worried about going out to hunting for fear of kobolds wandering ‘round… Lord Wintersborne has sent a ranger to find their lair. Elian has seen no kobolds himself, but between the thing that had cut up his sheep…

Warashes approached the elf huntress. She claimed no interest in him, upon which he kept right on bothering her, and was plenty short with her on his way out. Pretty much come to expect it from him, sadly enough. Never managed to catch her name, though I’m sure it was spoken.

As Ricaver made his way out for the night, I took a moment of his time outside for a question: being a servant of order, how did he come to be at ease with agents of magic, given the chaos ‘our’ type were reputed to have caused long ago? His answer: that magic is a tool, and it its the wielder we should hate for evil acts. Should all the larger world be so open minded, the clan at home might benefit from following my example!

I caught up with Nebraxis as he went to the sage. An older man, fine clothes, big old beard, bright eyes, the two girls all a gaggle for his every word. Managed to miss his name too. There were only the same old names at home, not new ones every damned day!

Said the sage: we’re not the first to talk to him about the attacks. Gave us a rundown of some local features and news:
  • A ‘haunted’ keep to the north, now infested by goblins. Once staffed by Sir Keegan, a great knight, now killed. Earthquake ruined the place, and the goblins were let to have it.
  • A strange horse been sighted in recent days, and a suggestion that Elian might know more.
  • A legend that Bahamut, a god of some sort, fell not far to the south. Now, a researcher, was it Davon?, went south to investigate by way of a dig site. Another asked the sage about this dragon burial ground only days ago, who also went south. He had no description to offer us of this wanderer.
  • And a tower, that the sage keeps for himself in town, should we want to find him.

And said the girls: uncle! One mystery explained.

Some of us had set a pattern of imbibing too much, at this point. Wanting to be making our decisions tonight, Nebraxis and I managed to get all the group together to ask Elian about a black horse. He told us of a stranger who asked to stable his mount for some days. Only, after Elian agreed and the man had gone, the big black beast was found wandering out of its pen, and hogs had begun to go missing on the farm. Elian seemed sure the horse was responsible. So did the stranger, who on return paid for the loss and claimed that he’d been the one to let the beast out!

Embersong got off to her cot drunk, leaving the rest of us discuss the next day’s options. I imagined that the stranger who visited Elian, and the wanderer who set out for the dig site, are one and the same: Ricaver’s ally, and shouldn’t we track him down? But the idea of visiting a dragon burial ground didn’t sit well with the rest; I’m outvoted, and we’re to go with Elian to see his farm. Probably for the best anyhow.

Woe’s Log, Day 3

After fine supper and lodgings put up by Sir Ricaver, we rose early to a breakfast of eggs, bacon and more by Elian! All that for toasting a few kobolds and a little scar or two. Could get used to the adventuring business.

Said Thuradin as I made my way down the stair: Where’s the warlord and the wiz—-? Bloody stupid dwarf, right in the middle of the packed tavern too. I caused a sound of clattering silverware to drown out his slip, and had a word with him.

Ricaver passed us a note on our way out. It was written:
My friend’s passcode: ‘Valonar shines bright.’
His response: ‘He’ll have to get it through your thick head.’

We traveled eastward, following Elian, to the outlying farm. Birds out chirping this time. Road’s set in a broad open plain, some boulders, no trees. The elves later said they had a feeling of being watched along this path, though I perceived nothing.

There then was a vanishing flash of crimson scale in the distance. Nothing we could identify… set us on edge enough.

At Elian’s farm:

The black horse was no trouble to find, he stared us down from the field as we moved in. He’s no breed known to this kingdom, that’s for sure. No evidence of magical construction either. Couldn’t put my thumb on why this beastie unsettled me so, until Warashes pointed out the obvious: it had no pupils. Said Elian: Said I’d stable this thing for a tenday… can’t just be rid of it.

The hunter’s fears are becoming more well founded in my mind, this is unsettling country!

Finding little to do here, we agreed to head for the dig site, voting to take the road and not wander the woods. Took the road back to town, and stayed on it heading southwest.

We kept our eyes open for kobolds… and found ourselves staring down three dragonshields on the path. Same markings as the first ones, same green scaled shields.

They blocked the path as it lead through some trees, ordered that we stop and turn back where we came from. We obeyed for a start, moved back out of their sight. And then nominated Warashes to sneak into the trees around and scout. Well, there was a kobold’s cry from out in the forest, the elf came full bore back out of the trees, and the fight was on. The dragonshields charged, but the fighters were able to control them. A kobold, face obscured by a bone mask, hopped out from behind a rock, and nearly killed us all with poisonous gas – the breath weapon of a green dragon.

The skirmisher that Warashes had run afoul of began a backstabbing spree, I was able to slow him down some. The masked one seemed to be called Wyrmskull, he lead this band, channeled magic using beads about his neck. Worshipped Alachron, and had curiously powerful magic for a savage. Hard blows dealt and received, I found myself coughing from the poison gas, but managed to avoid any other harm. The dragonshields and the skirmisher were manageable enough, though the dwarf had a close call with death. The caster was almost impossible to hunt once it got into the forest. Finally the dwarf connected the final blow, fittingly enough.

5g, 23s. Divided into 1g, 4s, 6c each.
The skirmisher: spear, hide armour
The three dragonshields (each): leather armour, shortsword, dragonscale shield
The wyrmpriest: spear, crimson hide armour, dragon skull bone mask, bead necklace. The bead necklace deserves better description: had a figure of a dragon, made of obsidian, and with an etched outline on the bottom, a drawing of infernal origin.

The dragonscale shields seemed weak, our simple weapons shouldn’t be strong enough to damage them. Taken from an old dragon? A sick dragon? The dragon skull looks to be from a green wyrmling, with a spike snout and a crest. Possibly from the southern forest, being that it’s infested with green dragons.

Was this crimson armoured fiend the same as what we saw a flash of earlier? The elves didn’t think so.

All this and it was not even noon! We resolved to head back to town for rest and to visit the market, but also to keep moving today.

According to the sage, Ricaver is interested in the possibility of that dragon burial ground nearby. Thuradin wished to keep all of the dragonscale shields based on this finding. No weight on my back!

We found some different merchants than yesterday, and endeavored not to overcharge these ones. Everything was sold, but: the three dragonscale shields, the dragon skull, and the bead necklace. 1g, 3c to each of us.

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Warren's Log 3

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