#29: Home Sweet Home

Despite the turmoil of the last few nights, as we watch the keravela camp come to life in the morning we experience an almost surreal sense of calm.  The village awakens on a chill spring morning, and we gather around our bonfire to share our thoughts on the reading, on our current situation, and on our path for the future.

Now that my course no longer feels compelled by any reading from Kezia, we are presented with a rare choice among several paths, all worthy in one way or the other.  The keravela seem like they could certainly benefit from our aid, given the increased activity of the river creatures, but given our feelings regarding the reading, it doesn’t seem like the best fit.  Audric had expressed a desire at one point to choose a direction, likely south, and abandon the North and all its problems to pursue a new, unknown future.  That too, however, lacks appeal as we have developed relationships in Dagger’s Deep.

For now, it seems like Dagger’s Deep is the most reasonable course of action, and from there we can reassess our options.  Audric seems more serene than ever, having also been freed of the burden of the ring, and is looking forward to pursuing a new legacy.

Odesia and Laerch are content with our decision, especially as no love seems lost between Odesia and the keravela tribes.  Before we can plan any further, however, our camp is approached by Danior.  His manner is gruff and direct, as is his nature, and he asks where Kezia is, explaining that she was not in her tents this morning.  He sniffs the air, an animal gesture, and narrows his eyes, then stalks back to the village.

In a moment of quiet, Audric approaches and inquires about Danior.  Knowing that I have entertained thoughts of giving into the more savage parts of my nature, and also knowing my history with Carcerus, Audric has made assumptions about what kind of creature Danior might be and the appeal that might hold for me.

It is, admittedly, an appealing path and one that I have given more than a little thought to, but the winter at Dagger’s Deep did much to change my perspective, cemented by the recent conversation around the bonfire with Audric, Bonie and Selben.  Giving in to that temptation would almost certainly mean staying in the valley among the tribes longer and would jeopardize the relationships built with Selben and Bonie, and perhaps even my bond with Audric.  It is not a risk that I am willing to take.

Having to pass through the village by necessity to start along our return to Dagger’s Deep, we stumble into the old witch Masilda and Danior, who are sharing words in their native, unintelligible tongue.   “You must follow her,” Masilda commands in the common tongue, looking at us, though before we can react, she turns her head, redirecting the words to Danior.  The hairy man grunts impatiently and stalks off again.

Steadfast in our decision to head back towards Dagger’s Deep, we approach Masilda.  “We’ll keep an eye out for her on the north bank as we return downriver,” I tell her, as Danior disappears towards the bank.  Masilda’s face is unreadable, though before she can pass any judgment on our intention, he returns.

“One of the boats is gone,” he says to Masilda.  “You remember what happened last time.  She almost didn’t return.”  She makes no response, her face expressionless.

“She will return,” Masilda says quietly after a long period of silence, “but they will not.”  Those words, foreboding, are for us.  Having spoken our piece to Masilda and possessed of no meaningful words for anyone else in the keravela camp, we turn our backs on their plight and depart, planning for the journey ahead.

We spend the morning in travel along the south bank of the river, and a light rain sets in, punctuating the general sense of miserableness.  Miserableness with a purpose, but miserable nonetheless.  Odesia seems particularly discomforted, the strain of her late-term pregnancy combined with the rough trails is wearing on her.  Our going is slow.

Our intention is to bypass Odesia’s village, not wanting to force another confrontation with those who clearly have no desire to speak with her.  When Laerch expresses concern over keeping her safe and warm, I share a minor blessing to soothe her discomfort and provide some defense against the chill. 

Knowing that starting a fire will be difficult given the constant rain, Audric, Selben and I decide to make a quick patrol of the woods around the camp in hopes of finding some dry timber.  Though we don’t find a cave or anything that would provide shelter, Selben stumbles upon a small stockpile of dry wood, enough to start a small fire and build it into something more substantial.  The night passes uneventfully, and morning comes.

Odesia knows the land around her village well, and we plan to make a wide circuit around it to avoid any potential encounter.  She seems excited about the prospect of resting in the boat as opposed to walking, and we have a slight bounce to our step as we approach where we left the vessel in cover.

Audric recognizes the markings he made with his axe, and we find the brush patch that hides our overturned boat.  The sun climbing, we approach within 50 feet or so when Jakke begins to growl, fur standing up and teeth bared.  As I’m the best protection for Odesia, Audric and Bonie begin to approach the brush patch.  There are no evident signs of disturbance.  Audric whispers a prayer to Mystra to discern any magical presence and, finding none, steps forward to approach with Bonie providing cover.

Audric begins pulling the brush aside and hoists the boat up to turn it right.  Though heavy, Audric’s might proves sufficient, and it tips over with a heavy crash.  Underneath the boat is a corpse, and we recognize it as Vadoma, the keravela that met with Odesia our first night outside their village.  A dirk is buried in her chest.

Audric hails me and I approach, taking in the scene.  “Get the boat into the water,” I tell Audric and Bonie, then I return to Odesia, Laerch and Daegahr, sending Selben over to assist with the vessel.  To answer their confusion, I tell them, “Someone left us a message, we are not welcome here.  We need to go.  Now.”  They ask again, but I make it apparent that my words are an order, not a request, and that everyone’s safety is at stake.

They are obviously curious and concerned but follow my directions.  With some struggle, Selben, Bonie and Audric get the boat into the water, and I redirect Laerch, Odesia and Daegahr towards the water, hoping to avoid having Odesia spot Vadoma.  Everyone piles into the riverboat, and we put as much distance as we can between us and the village before telling Odesia what happened.

As expected, Odesia erupts into hysterics.  Laerch and Daegahr seem to respect my decision, knowing that it was for the best.  My hope is that we can row as well as benefit from the current, so that we may reach Dagger’s Deep as quickly as possible, to the extent that Daegahr thinks it safe.  Odesia spends the day quiet, in a state of shock.  Bonie does what she can to comfort her but to little effect, while we alternate manning the oars and watching the banks of the river for threats. 

We row into the darkness of night before finally seeing the fires of Dagger’s Deep, and we push forward with haste.  Calls acknowledge our approach and we run the boat onto the beach, Audric and Daegahr jumping out to pull the craft aground. 

A party approaches with torches lit, and our hearts sink for a moment as we fear it to be a group of Mirabarran guards led by Rale Cotchen, but it’s only a trick of the torchlight and instead Pol Rallinoth, the captain of Dagger’s Deep’s guard, appears and we are welcomed as friends.

We make immediate arrangements for Odesia’s care, a warm meal and comfortable tent, before seeing to our own needs.  Pol Rallinoth states that he has news but that it can wait until the morning, so I respond that we have stories of our own and that he might want to add an extra guard or two to the watch.

We rise late, having been completely exhausted from the previous day’s exertions.  Dagger’s Deep is already alive with activity, and it appears that not much has changed in the last week.  More than anything, though, I feel a sense of relief at being someplace that feels like home, as opposed to spending nights in the rough mud along the riverbank.

We share an abridged version of our tale, not wanting to divulge too many secrets without good reason, and I warn Pol Rallinoth, “If by some means a large, hairy, angry-looking man shows up looking for us, do not get in his way.” 

He informs us that Perhegan and Renwal have not yet returned, but that he expects their return soon.  He also shares that he has dire news, something that unfolded within the last two days.  One of their men, Naered, was found dead—pinned to a giant oak tree with iron spikes.  His description immediately calls forth memories of the body we found while patrolling outside Xantharl’s Keep of the future.  It sounds similar enough that it might not be coincidence.  Pol Rallinoth has never heard of such a grisly method of torture, but also knows that the Lurkwood is full of creatures—and men—capable of such violence.

A group was dispatched to investigate as far as the ogre’s cave, and they are expected back today.  I ask if we might be able to meet them halfway and speed their return, but Pol explains that the encounter would be unlikely, and that we’re better off adding to the town’s defense.  We assent, and he is thankful for the extra hands.

Asking after Odesia, Bonie explains that she is not doing well—more the betrayal of her family and village, the murder of her friend more than any physical wounds or discomfort, which is completely understandable.  The shock and grief over the death of Vadoma combined with superstition and the physical toll of the journey is a powerful combination.  I ask Laerch of his plans, and if there is anything that we can do—he doesn’t think it’s safe to move her, so it seems as if they may be spending at least a few days in Dagger’s Deep.  I settle his concerns, making sure he understands that they can stay indefinitely, and that I will cover any expense.

We spend the day busying ourselves around the keep, and as the sun sets and light wanes, a call goes up heralding the return of four men from their excursion into the Lurkwood.  We hang about waiting for news, and our eavesdropping reveals that they took a wide patrol, wider than those used by the hunters, to return to the ogre cave.  They did not find ogres, but they did discover a gathering of savage men bearing crude weapons and axes, covered in gruesome scars and tattered hides. 

Barbarians are not uncommon, but what struck the men was that the barbarians were seemingly being led by a man wearing a black robe, with thick, graying beard, who spoke with a booming voice in a foreign tongue.  The man wielded an extremely large hooked maul.

Imaginations run wild

“How many?” I ask.  Though the men didn’t linger and risk discovery, they report at least a dozen, perhaps as many as twenty.  No women or children were among them, at least none that could be seen.  Having spent many winters among the beast cults in Icewind Dale, my heart begins to race, an excitement or bloodlust that I haven’t felt for some time, along with a new sense of purpose.  Such a large band of barbarians is a major threat to a settlement like Dagger’s Deep, a threat to my friends—a threat that must be dealt with. 

As I imagine myself cutting down the barbarian leader, I’m reminded of Korvich, and of the taste of the man’s blood as it sprayed my face while I cut out his tongue.  Savagery must be met with savagery, and I being to ready myself mentally for the coming Hunt.