Tuesday, July 30, 2019

#27: The River

With the snows breaking and conditions improving day by day, and with Greengrass but a fortnight away, our minds and our planning turns to the road ahead, and the pending meeting with Odesia and her husband Laerch.  One pending decision revolves around Zargon, and whether he intends to break his compact with Perhegan and accompany us on our journey.

In order give him better context to make that decision, we recount our initial encounter with Kezia in Shadfeld, our encounter with the witch’s great granddaughter who bore the same name, and the subsequent events that led to her death.  We explain our meeting with Odesia, the pact made to win her assistance in navigating the Khedrun Valley, and what I hope to find there.

Zargon explains the details of his deal with Perhegan, as well as a potential issue with returning to Mirabar.  Zargon got into trouble gambling and in order to avoid being sold into servitude in the undercity of Mirabar, Perhegan bought out Zargon’s debt in exchange for a year of service at Dagger’s Deep.  “How deep into debt were you?” inquires Audric.  We learn that he could owe as much as 100 gold pieces and begin to discuss how we will confront Perhegan with potential solutions to the problem.

When we meet with Perhegan with the question, he replies solemnly, “A set of able hands can be worth more than gold.”  Before we can fear, though, Perhegan continues.  “But if Zargon wishes to leave, can I truly stop him?  I won’t hold a man against his will after his debt has been paid.  If it suits everyone to come to a financial arrangement, I’ll consent for him to depart.”  He offers to close the deal for 75 gold pieces.  We agree, and Perhegan says that he holds no ill will against us, and that he expected such a thing to come to pass.

Perhegan tells us of his plans to take a wagon into Mirabar and says that our departure is a convenient opportunity to attempt such a trip with ample protection.  We agree, settle all our debts, and return to our tents to prepare.

Having spent longer at Dagger’s Deep than we have anywhere for quite some time, we are sad to depart, but excited for the road ahead.  The road ahead, as it turns out, is rough and muddy, and travel proves slow and laborious.  Several times we must force the wagon back onto the path when the wheels smash through soft, muddy ruts, though make the main road at the end of the first day, in the vicinity of Minstrel’s Glade.  The night passes uneventfully, with no signs of Anaithnid, wyverns, soldiers, or bugbears: a welcome relief.

We reach Mirabar the night before Greengrass, having passed several travelers along the road.  We decide to pass the night outside the gates, and in the morning attempt to enter the city.  At the city gates, we encounter a welcome sight—Laerch waves at us from just outside.  We bid Perhegan a final farewell amid many thanks, and he welcomes us back to Dagger’s Deep any time.  We thank him in return, and usher him towards the gates, heading forward to meet Laerch.

Laerch lets us know that preparations have been made for our journey, and as we walk through the city we encounter the sounds and smells and general crush of the Greengrass festival, with merchants hawking foods, music playing, and townsfolk milling about.  The walled fortress of Mirabar makes for a strange setting for a celebration of the spring, but the city seems alive with activity.


Along the way, a man with a huge bundle of white flowers walks towards us, handing one to Bonie and tying it into her hair before moving on to the next maiden.  I watch as she walks through the city streets, and grow concerned as her gait grows heavy, noting the telltale crease of her brow that signifies distress.  She clings to my arm, and I sense that she’s overcome with emotion, coming to grips that we’re in her home city 100 years in the past, as if all the events since Malchor’s tower have suddenly caught up with her, and threaten to overwhelm.   I do what I can to be supportive, not having any words that can relieve her sudden shock.

Laerch leads us through the streets, and Bonie remains quiet, not indicating any desire to traverse a different route.  When asked if we have any business in the city, we respond that we don’t, and we’re led further into a section with several piers, from which extend numerous docks.  At one such dock, we meet Odesia, though it takes us a moment to realize it.  She’s dressed in her traditional Keravelan garb, but we notice that she wears a heavy shawl to conceal the fact that she’s very much pregnant.  She smiles and greets us, and we’re introduced to a man, Daegahr, who will be accompanying us on the trip.


Laerch explains that he and Daegahr have been friends for many seasons, that he knows the river and the terrain, and that it’s actually Daegahr’s boat that we will be taking.  “How much of this journey is by river,” I ask, “and how much is overland?”  They explain that the first couple days will be spent on the water, as there’s no great path that leads upriver, passage by vehicle is impossible and horse is difficult, and Odesia’s condition makes travel by horseback across dangerous ground less than ideal.

Trying not to be awkward, I inquire as to what villages or settlements might exist east of Mirabar.  “There’s nothing,” Daegahr replies, “at least nothing within the bounds of fishermen’s territory.”  We learn that Dagger’s Deep lies about two days along the river, and that Odesia’s tribe settles perhaps a day from there.  The settlements that we knew—Shadfeld, Carrock—either don’t yet exist or, if they do, they’re outside the realm of Daegahr’s knowledge.

The boat is smaller than one of Perhegan’s keelboats and will require four rowers at any time to keep pace.  Fortunately, we have enough able bodies.  Odesia and Laerch have made every effort to fulfill their end of the bargain, and all preparations to depart have already been made.  Before we can depart, however, we hear a voice call out.  “Hold!” is the cry and, accompanied by another soldier, we see Rale Cotchen.

Rale glares at Odesia before turning to Laerch.  “Surely you’re not bringing a woman in such a condition on your journey,” he asks derisively.  “Our business is none of yours, cousin,” is Laerch’s reply, and the tension rises as we all wait to see what Rale’s intentions might be.

“You have staunch allies,” Rale says antagonistically, indicating me, Audric and Zargon, but after several long, awkward moments, Rale turns to his comrade and gives an order.  “See that their vessel departs safely,” he says, before walking away with what seems to be disappointment.  A collective sigh of relief washes over us, and we board the vessel and depart.

Having never been aboard any kind of watercraft before, it takes some time for me to gain my bearings, but manning one of the great oars helps and, before long, we get into the rhythm of oaring and propelling the boat upriver. As we do, Daegahr remarks to his friend, “I know he’s your cousin, Laerch, but Rale Cotchen is a shit-eating bastard.”

“I’m going to kill Rale Cotchen one day,” is my reply, and Audric’s stroke falters as he reaches back to elbow me.  Laerch looks grim but does not reply.  The last group of guards we see before departing the city raises their axes in farewell, and soon, we are in the wild.

We pass the day rowing upriver, and the punishment of the oars sets in on those of us unaccustomed to the labor.  It does give us time to talk, however, and I interrogate Odesia as to the Keravela and what to expect when we encounter them.  “We don’t have soldiers,” she replies, “so don’t expect to be greeted by guards.  Nor will you necessarily be greeted with trust and welcome.  There is a word in my language: fuge.”  She explains that it means ‘to shun’ and is often applied to those who leave or marry outside the Keravela, and while she doesn’t expect open opposition, nor will she necessarily be welcomed with open arms.  I realize that her offer to aid us, while it may have seemed superficial, is actually much more complicated.

“Worst come to worst, do we have anything to fear from the Keravela?” I ask.  She replies that they are generally a peaceful folk, and that as long as we aren’t actively hostile or rude, we can expect the same in return.

I question Daegahr about potential dangers this far upriver, and he explains that there are several barbarian tribes that, while not necessarily friendly to outsiders, aren’t openly hostile, and tend to keep the river valley safe from goblins and such.  “We are traveling early in the season, however,” he warns, explaining that the first vessels often carry most risk.

The day wears on and even Daegahr and Laerch look tired, and they explain that we need to find a suitable place to dock and establish camp.  We lean on Daegahr’s experience in the matter, and he pulls us into what looks like a small forest glade with trees bearing the first buds of spring.  A small hill provides a decent vantage point and a dry place to rest, and we begin to gather wood for a large fire.

Watches are set and I deploy a few abjurations to protect the camp, and we settle in to the sounds of a crackling fire, the river current, and the occasional call of a beast from the forest beyond.  The night passes uneventfully.  I do a quick circuit of the camp to check for signs of predators that may be tracking our progress along the river or that may have visited us in the night but find nothing.

During our second day, we see signs of fires and habitation ahead—Dagger’s Deep!  Daegahr and Laerch seem caught off-guard, and we realize that we never told them of the settlement’s presence.  Fortunately, the news is well accepted, as both Daegahr and Laerch seem pleased at the prospect of shelter and safety along the river.

Our vessel is greeted by Pol Rallinoth and others we have come to know during our time at Dagger’s Deep, we explain our journey and ask for news.  Nothing ill has passed and a cask of ale is opened in celebration, and we are glad to be among friends again for a night.  Laerch and Daegahr both seem amazed at the development.  We spend an easy night in town, with Bonie and I sharing a tent once again in familiar surroundings, and in the morning prepare for a hard day’s journey ahead.  Only the best fishers are known to go further upriver as the currents are strong.  The territory yields a bountiful catch, but the currents can be deadly. 

The river passage becomes more difficult and the weather thankfully sustains, overcast but visibility is good and doesn’t hinder our passage at all or make it too uncomfortable.  A few hours into the morning, we see on the north bank an overturned boat, and immediately I recall the pair of vigilantes that escaped into the night.  Audric seems hesitant to investigate, but I am eager to have a look and Daegahr consents to pull to shore.  As we draw closer, we see piles of furs near the water—seeming to confirm our fears that the men didn’t dock safely and escape into the wood.  When close to the bank, I jump out and have a look, and Audric recognizes the crossbow bolt sticking out of the back of the hull.  An arm dangles from beneath the overturned boat, and we right the craft, revealing the corpse of one of the vigilantes.

We investigate for signs that may reveal the cause of death—a slit throat, an arrow, claw marks.  It’s hard to tell given the time that has passed and due to the fact that the corpse is bloodless and bloated, but we discover a crude spear that looks like it has impaled the man.  Zargon asks if it’s the kind of weapon a Keravela or barbarian tribe may use, but she says it’s not an implement she recognizes and that the Uthgardt tend to dwell south of the river.  The weapon itself looks cruder than any used by the Anaithnid, hinting perhaps at the presence of goblinoids.

Remembering that the vigilantes had a stash of weapons beneath the furs, later revealed to be stolen from Mirabar, we search and find a few in good repair, but can’t account for the entire haul.  Searching the riverbank nearby, we find no trace of trail or clear evidence what may have happened.  Zargon finds a serviceable longsword and adds the weapon to his gear, and as for the body, we drag it out of the river a few yards deeper the woods before continuing our journey.

After several more hours the sun begins to set, and we decide to make camp as opposed to pressing on.  We’re all tired and the prospect of rowing into the night doesn’t appeal to anyone.  We find a suitable campsite on the south bank, and watches are split.  Everyone is on edge knowing that barbarians and worse are potentially nearby.

During the first watch, Laerch and Audric hear something in the river breaking up the usual sounds of the rippling current, and on the far shore they notice what appears to be a bipedal humanoid of some sort leave the water, walk along the riverbank, then disappear back into the water.  Audric decides not to provoke the creatures, whatever they may be, and instead chooses to keep careful watch on them.  The northern bank remains silent after the creatures disappear back into the water, but after some time, the sounds are heard again, this time closer to our camp.  Audric instructs Laerch to quietly wake the others.

Once awakened, I work a ritual to determine the presence of hidden creatures and learn that potential enemies lurk to either side of us along the river.  As Audric sends Lume to investigate, I complete another spell to protect the camp, and then all at once we hear creatures scrambling along the bank towards us, perhaps a half-dozen approaching from either side.

A wave of spears is launched into the camp by the creatures, who are revealed to have slimy, scaly skin.  They drip with water, and have large, bulbous eyes.  Both Daegahr and Laerch are hit by spears and another glances off Audric’s armor.  Zargon fires an arrow at one of the creatures and it collapses immediately, killed by a masterful shot.  Bonie and Daegahr, with his crossbow, also fire, but miss.  Audric cleaves into one of the creatures with his axe, but the enemy does not fall.  Selben’s eyes being to glow red, mimicking the monsters encountered in Shadfeld, and a group of fish-men falls into fits of trembling and shaking; all five drop their crude weapons and begin to withdraw. 

Audric engages in a furious melee supported by bowfire from the group but is surrounded by five creatures who tear at him with claw and fang.  I manage to paralyze one of the foes with magic, but not before Audric falls to a flurry of attacks.  Zargon rushes in to support Audric, and with sword, arrow and magic we try to fight the creatures off, while Laerch stumbles forward and drags Audric’s body from the fray.

The tide of the battle, however, seems to turn against us as more blows are exchanged, with our allies suffering the worst.  In desperation, I step forward, an incantation on my lips, and draw a knife across my chest drawing a thin line of blood, roaring a challenge to a trio of enemies.  The challenge is bolstered by my magic and all three charge towards me, with only one penetrating the magical defenses bestowed upon me by Audric and Malar.  Bonie and Daegahr join in against the tangle of fish-men assaulting me, as Selben sees to the paralyzed creature and Laerch tends to Audric.

Our spells, however, begin to fade and Daegahr is brutalized by one of the creatures and falls.  Laerch is assaulted by another of the creatures as Selben’s magic wears off, eliciting a cry of horror from Odesia.  Bonie nearly succumbs to multiple wounds of her own but manages to decapitate an enemy before eventually falling to the claws of another. 


Our newest companion however, Zargon, fights like a whirling blademaster, skewering one fish-man with his found longsword and decapitating another.  I roar in rage at the creature that struck down Bonie, cursing it with my morning star.  Fearing for our fallen companions and nearly overcome by wounds ourselves, only me, Zargon and Selben are left standing as Selben finishes off one of the creatures, drawing one of his knives across its scaled throat, and Zargon removes the head of the last from its body, its headless corpse slumping onto the wet ground as the head rolls to a stop nearby.

We are victorious…but by a narrow margin, and quickly begin tending to the wounded.  Though none are beyond saving, Bonie, Laerch and Daegahr remain unconscious as I use my only curative spell to revive Audric.  We are alive, but not yet out of danger.

Friday, July 26, 2019

A closer look at small decisions

In the aftermath of last night's session, Sean and I got into a good conversation about how seemingly small decisions by the player characters can have a profound affect on the outcome of the game. A few examples:
  • Audric's decision to charge in at the outset of the encounter felt questionable, and even by Sean's admission (given his intent at the time), it was. But while Audric put himself at substantial personal risk by taking on six of the creatures at once while thwarting the missile attacks of his allies on his side of the battlefield, a key positive result from this was that it kept the creatures from reaching Zeb and Selben, who used the borrowed time to fire off multiple spells at their enemies in the ensuing rounds. If Audric doesn't close this ground and all the fish-creatures converge, the culminating melee begins much earlier, possibly to a disastrous end for the party.
  • Zargon leveraged the grace of Tymora (goddess of luck, for the uninitiated) to roll several natural 20s (not to mention other high attack rolls) throughout the encounter. But, had the party not thought to explore the riverbank where the bandits' boat was overturned and specifically to question me about the presence of weapons left behind from their cargo, Zargon would still have been dealing damage with his dagger (1d4 melee, 4 points on a natural 20) vs. a longsword (1d8 melee, 8 points on a natural 20). In hindsight, this seemingly minor gain (what's a longsword worth, 15 gold?) may actually have saved the life of at least one PC, if not all.
  • Zeb's casting of taunt, while also self-sacrificing, probably saved Audric from death. At the time, Laerch had rushed into melee with several fish-monsters, hoping to drag Audric's body away and stabilize him from bleeding out. As it stood, Laerch would have drawn opportunity attacks from each enemy upon attempting to pull Audric from the fray, very likely falling himself. Whether intentional or not, the taunt spell was timed perfectly, and instead of Laerch exiting the melee, the fish-monsters darted up toward Zeb, drawing their own opportunity attacks from the characters. With the foes out of the way, Laerch was able to tend to Audric's wounds unimpeded.

I'm sure others can think of more examples, but these few stood out from our discussion. It's easy to look back after a session and not think about to how much any lone decision may have altered the game, but failing to do so makes it hard to understand the roots of success and failure, the line between which in AD&D is often so thin that every ounce of advantage you can gain for your side is of critical importance.

The onus is on the party to win every time; the bad guys only have to win once.

Thursday, July 25, 2019

Interlude: Tent Talk

The sounds of labor awaken me early in the morning, of hammers pounding and saws tearing at timbers near the water wheel.  Ever since the snows first broke, the men and women of Dagger’s Deep have been busy at work making repairs on structures damaged during the long winter and pursuing new construction projects all around the burgeoning village.  Chief among these projects are repair of the water wheel and reconstruction of the river keep, a building which could very well be the keystone upon which the rest of Dagger’s Deep is situated.

Unable to get back to sleep, both due to the noise and due to an errant ray of sun which has found its way through one of the seams in the tent, I leave Bonie’s side, stepping just outside the tent flap and stretch, taking in both the last remnants of winter’s chill grasp on the air and the refreshing scent of spring growth soon to come.  My arthritic joints complain as I raise my arms to the sun, and the myriad scars stitched along my shoulders and torso strain against the effort.  “I’m getting too old for this,” I complain to no one in particular.  On cue, Jakke pads around the corner of the tent and throws me an expectant look, which he sustains until I dig a strip of dried meat from my pouch and toss it to the hound.

Bonie’s gentle snores stop a few moments later, and I can hear the sounds of her shuffling within the tent, gathering bits of clothing and armor.  Jakke peers into the tent, taking a few hesitant steps back as Bonie emerges, her brow creased and eyes pinched tight against the morning sun.  “That’s quite the look,” I chuckle, helping her arrange a few out of place straps on her armor, taking a few more moments to untangle a string of fetishes that have become entangled in her hair.  She curses at me quietly, though gently, but doesn’t interrupt my work, instead waiting until I have finished before leaning on me slightly, her arms around me.

“Nice weather today,” she says, though the tone in her voice speaks otherwise.  Ever since the snows first broke, something has weighed heavily on Bonie’s mind and I, not one to pry, have left it alone.  Perhaps she fears for the friends we’ve made in Dagger’s Deep, knowing that our intent is to take to the road again before long.  Perhaps she dreads returning to Mirabar, fears who or what she may find where she once lived.  Almost certainly, she’s worried about what lies beyond Mirabar—our pending meeting with Odesia and Laerch, and the fulfillment of her promise to guide us to her people in the Khedrun Valley.  Most likely, however, I think she fears what the coming spring may mean for the relationship which has kindled between us.

Sharing many of those same fears, I find it hard to reply at all, instead just pausing to take it all in, enjoying the moment while I can.  For sure enough, we’ll be on the road again soon, suffering the dangers of travel as predators emerge from months of hibernation to hunt and feed, trying to navigate these familiar surroundings in an unfamiliar time, towards an end that is still largely undetermined.


“I should see to the shrine,” I say reluctantly, pushing away from Bonie gently, unwilling to force the conversation, hoping desperately to hang on to what has been a peaceful and deeply satisfying respite.  Unwilling to confront the future, and what change it may bring.

Tuesday, July 23, 2019

The Claw of the Storms

O’er pastures borne
o’ fields of green
The river I follow,
its waters clean
With the flow, I ride,
‘til my heart doth cling
To pastures borne
o’ fields of green

O’er wildlands borne
o’ skies serene
The rain doth fall,
its waters clean
‘Til Greengrass cometh,
returnéd to me
Old friendships borne
o’ fields of green


—“The Claw of the Storms”
(Northland verse)