#14: Peryton Pass

We awaken in the morning to find frost on the rooftops of Westtower.  The weather is chill, but not unseasonably so—it punctuates, however, our desire to leave the wildlands and arrive in Mirabar.  Bonie’s revelations are no comfort; several options lie before us, but Falinor somehow discovering our plan seems almost a foregone conclusion.  As such, my prayers to the Beastlord have a tone of urgency.

We share our potential options with Erathmar.  The merchant, to his credit, is on board with Jent’s desire to leave Westtower, and is supportive of what we all think is the just and right course of action.  We determine that smuggling Jent, his wife, and their child is the safest way to proceed; at least in that case, there’s a chance that Jent’s absence goes unnoticed and we depart without conflict, for we are all agreed that Falinor will surely resist if we pursue our plan openly.

We plan to depart the next morning, trying as hard as possible to emulate a normal departure.  Erathmar lets us know that he would usually leave before the sun rises, so we make arrangements for Bonie to meet Jent and his family, and to smuggle them into the wagons while we make preparations, hoping that the general chaos of our departure screens their approach.

On our last day in Westtower, Audric stops to see Shandar to thank him for what help he was able to provide, and the priest of Lathander asks that, if we see the last caravan due to arrive from Mirabar, we share the town’s dire need for supplies.  We consent to do so, and part in peace.  As a last matter of business, we decide to share our plans to depart with Falinor and catch up with him the previous night.

“Twenty-seven.  That is the number of men that have died here since the beast men attacked.  Your aid at the waterfall was certainly very much appreciated.  We could use a few more able bodies like yourselves throughout the winter.  Will you not consider extending your stay?”  Audric responds, saying that he answers Mystra’s calling, and that it renders our desires in the matter moot.  Inside, I applaud Audric’s ability to deceive without overt duplicity.  We offer to deliver a message to Mirabar, but his reply—odd, and somewhat ominous—is that his own manner of communication is sufficient.  We leave the discussion at that, with Falinor seemingly disappointed in our decision.

Bonie shares that she also harbored fears that Falinor may have tried to detain her, as well.  Though her contract with Falinor is over, she still worries that he would try to keep her here, given the town’s dire circumstances.

The night passes restlessly, as anticipation of the morning’s plan weighs heavy on my thoughts.  Jent and his family are smuggled into the wagons successfully, Jent’s wife working to keep her infant quiet.  According to the plan, I draw upon Malar’s blessing to curtain the wagon in silence, and our escape from Westtower—at least so far—is uncontested.

Once we put some distance between us and Westtower, we give Jent consent to rejoin his wife and child.  His wife’s name is Gabrielle, and their child Einin.  They share their thanks, and for the moment at least, there is a lightness and joy to the group that has not been felt for some time.

The trail is hard but not overly so, the weather chill but not punishing.  We travel a hard day, nearly twelve hours, eventually reaching the foothills.  We decide to break for camp, and the conversation turns to Peryton Pass and how we plan to make our passage.  We share what knowledge we know of the Pass’s namesake.  Peryton are intelligent, malicious creatures that are known to attack men and feast upon their hearts.  They operate in the daylight, which seems odd for such a creature, and sometimes in small packs.  The most prudent path, assuming that the moon and weather allow, is to travel as much as we can during the night, in hopes that a confrontation can be avoided.

We prepare our camp, placing defenses both along the path we came—in the case that Falinor sends men after us—as well as further along the road, in the case of some enemy from that direction.  One of the watches is disrupted by a scream in the night—perhaps the cry of an animal or some other beast, but far off, a mile or more—but besides raising the collected hairs on the backs of our necks, nothing else occurs.

We decide to split our second day of travel, half during the day, then resting until sundown and continuing our ascent into the night in the hopes that we avoid peryton and other threats.  The incline is unforgiving, and by the time we break for the morning, we are all exhausted.  As we wait for nightfall, Audric uses the opportunity to get to know Jent.  Jent doesn’t have solid long-term plans, but he doesn’t see himself pursuing the life of a soldier.  Perhaps he’ll find work as a smithy’s apprentice or some such but caring for his family is his primary goal.  Bonie feels sympathy for the man’s decisions and desire to care for his own, and shares that she may have a contact that can help Jent out.

I seize the opportunity to push Bonie on her contact, as we have left the matter untouched until now.  She reveals that he is the Abbé Lira, an abbot who keeps residence in Mirabar.  He is not a political figure or member of any known organization, he’s more an independent operator.  Audric questions his title of abbot and asks what his fealty may be, wondering if he is associated with a church or priesthood but she reveals that she doesn’t actually know.  His intentions, however, seem to lean towards good more than all else, helping those that need helped, so she and Larimo never had need to question his motivations.  Their trust in Abbé Lira is enough for me, and Bonie agrees to arrange a meeting for me and Audric.

We pick up our journey at sundown, preparing for a vigorous ascent.  We wind around mountain trails, blessed by a strong moon to illuminate our path.  It reveals a mangled heap ahead, perhaps twenty feet from the trail.  As we approach, the scent nearly overwhelms us, and we begin to make out horrifying details—a wrecked wagon, slaughtered horses, and what appears to be a mangled corpse.  Almost certainly, this is the caravan bound for Westtower.

The corpse is revealed to be that of a dwarf.  Scattered about are blankets, hides, tools—and to the best of our ability, we determine that the wagon toppled from the path above.  Erathmar and his men spare a few precious minutes to load what can be salvaged onto his wagons, and we continue our ascent.  We get to the ridge where we believe the wagon may have fallen from—there we find mounds of loose dirt, and around them are drawn the symbol of an anvil and hammer.  We assume these to be dwarven graves, which hint at a potential survivor or survivors.

Besides the grave, there is only one area perhaps fifty feet from the trail where a cave or alcove may lie.  We spur the wagons on while Audric and I investigate.  It is indeed a shallow alcove and lying in the back of it are several unmoving forms.  There are two more dwarven corpses, one of which has a recently amputated leg.  The other is mutilated, but both seem to have been cared for, their wounds mended.  We leave the alcove, but before we can rejoin the caravan, we hear screams.  On the rock faces, we can see several attackers—goblinoids with eyes that glow in the moonlight.

With sword, spell, and arrow we seek to drive off the foes, but they approach from several angles, dividing our response.  I am able to buy some time against one of the groups of goblins, but not before Jent is felled by several of the creatures.  Fortunately, Audric brings one of his conjurations to bear, resulting in an opposing pack of hobgoblins—larger, meaner kin to the smaller goblins—that fights on our side.

While Erathmar and his men see that the horses don’t bolt, we rally and manage to drive the foes off into the night.  Bonie shares that goblins are not known to inhabit the pass—given how strategic the placement of this pass is, and that the other caravan was also attacked by goblins, she thinks this could be a bigger strategic move to isolate the Khedrun Valley.  Whether this is pure speculation or if it has some root in truth we know not, but Mirabar needs to know, in any case, as the goblins we’ve encountered so far seem to possess more intelligence than usually evidenced by such creatures.  We travel the rest of the night safely until sunrise, where we break for a rest.

DM's note: The goblins bear the following mark upon their foreheads, drawn in a primitive war paint. The symbol is unfamiliar.