XP awards for sessions 36-39

The following are the XP awards granted for the closure of the fourth campaign arc:

• Delivering news of Corin Redbeard to the Undercity - 2,500
• Duel with Rale Cotchen - 1,000
• Accepting Milter to Dagger's Deep - 500
• Goblins in the forest - 100
• Successfully boarding Moonmaiden - 1,000
• Navigating the ruins of Illusk and breaching the Sea of Swords - 15,000
• Payment received from Dame Azurris - 1,200

This amounts to 21,300 points, with full shares of 7,100 to each of Audric and Zeb, and half-shares of 3,550 to Lom and Selben. Zargon, having fallen in combat, reaps no final reward for his contributions. Updated party totals:

• Audric - 26,789
• Zeb - 3,000/47,972
• Selben (h) - 14,651
• Lom (h) - 6,442

The only level gained belongs to Lom, who advances from 2nd to 3rd. Training can be assumed to be conducted immediately upon reaching port in Fireshear. It can also be assumed that payment of 1,200 gold is issued to the party upon arrival, in the form of platinum coin rolls.

#39: At All Costs

Once aboard Moonmaiden, the crew is allowed a brief period of celebration and introduction, but Captain Azurris quickly returns to business, ordering the crew about.  As the crowd begins to disperse, Bonie steps forward, pointing at a name on the roster, sharing a few sharp words with Captain Azurris.  Looking over the shoulder, I see the name—Tannor Brin of Longsaddle—and recognition sets in.  “A woman doesn’t forget the name of a man that held a dagger to her throat,” she says, eyeing the Captain darkly.

“Go bring me crewman Brin,” Captain Azurris orders, and I step forward.

“Last time we encountered Tannor Brin,” I explain, “he was hanging by his ankles from a beam in a barn.”  Captain Azurris seems intrigued, and we await the man’s arrival.

When the captain’s mate brings the crewman forward, we don’t easily recognize him.  Though his face is now hidden by a thick black beard, we can see that he recognizes us, and the man pales a bit.  “Our Archguard has leveled accusations at your character,” Captain Azurris explains. “Would you care to speak for yourself?”

Tannor Brin replies sheepishly.  “’Twas the night of the new year festival…I think we all had a little too much to drink.”  Bonie stares him down, and he adds incredulously, “You were passed out in a stall!”  Selben steps forward and begins to speak in her defense, but she holds out an arm and confronts the man herself.

“I don’t know ye, but I know what you did,” she hisses.

Captain Azurris acknowledges Tannor Brin’s words as admission and looks him over.  “You’ll be deposited at Post South when we arrive; your service aboard Moonmaiden is over.”  The words affect him greatly, and the man pleads with the Captain to change his mind, petitioning for a chance at a new life aboard Moonmaiden and beyond.

“Very well, then,” Captain Azurris says gravely.   “I’ll leave your fate in the hands of the Archguard.”

I step forward.  “We’ll take you at your word, but if you’re not true to it, I’ll finish the job I started in the barn that night.”  Tannor Brin seems suitably admonished, and as it seems that Zargon and Audric agree with me and Bonie is not outwardly against it, we let the matter rest.  I imagine she will have words for me later that night.

The journey downriver is perhaps 250 miles from Mirabar to the Sea of Swords by way of the River Mirar.  The ship moves rapidly, propelled by both the current and her sales and if all goes as planned, Captain Azurris hopes to make the open sea in two and a half days.  We evaluate the ships planned course, Audric asking after any choke points along the river or places of obvious heightened danger or ambush. 

The ruins of Illusk present the most obvious threat—though the river widens at Illusk, spilling out into a delta which bleeds into the Sea of Swords, the ruined city is thought to be completely overrun by orcs.  Nearly two decades ago, siege was laid to the city by orc hordes and overwhelmed—no ally or party of adventurers, to anyone’s knowledge, has ventured there since or been able to report the current state of the city.  Illusk presents the greatest obstacle in our path, and it is difficult to avoid discussing it, though many miles yet lay ahead before we reach it.

Post South, also known as Orcdoom, lies but a few hours ahead, and Illusk perhaps 200 miles further beyond.  Audric asks more about Illusk, attempting to gleam some knowledge of the city prior to its fall.  It is a historically embattled site, being on the frontier, and is known to be perhaps the size of Mirabar at its height.  Constant siege had ground down the great city, however, before it eventually fell.  None have any knowledge as to what we may encounter there now.

At one time, there were several stone bridges that crossed the river—Illusk itself lies predominately on the southern bank, but these bridges connected the north and south banks, and were known to be of a height to allow ships to pass unobstructed.  We learn that Captain Azurris was originally from Illusk, though at the time he was but a child and remembers little.  It was part of what compelled him to accept this journey from its benefactors.

At the mention of benefactors, I ask about Revenant, and ask if we might be presented to him before reaching Orcdoom.  Revenant is one of two dwarves aboard Moonmaiden, the leader of a conglomerate of merchants that sponsored the cargo that Revenant intends to see personally delivered to Fireshear.  “Should I fall,” Captain Azurris explains, “Revenant would assume charge of the vessel.”  There is something unspoken in his tone, as if Dame is less than pleased with that arrangement.  Captain Azurris points to dwarf nearby.  He wears a suit of armor, bears a heavy axe and carries himself as a tested warrior.

We learn more about the structure of Moonmaiden: where the crew’s mess and bunks are situated, as well as the cargo stored in the lower deck.  I ask how many crewmen must be on deck to keep the ship on course should we come under fire—Captain Azurris explains that at minimum three crew would be needed.  Audric asks if there were oars stowed should we require rowers, and Dame explains that there are none—Moonmaiden relies on her sails and the current, making this a one-way venture with no room for failure.  Satisfied for now, we make ourselves at home aboard Moonmaiden.

After a few hours we see Orcdoom in the distance along the north bank, and we can see a small contingent of Mirabarran Axe hailing us.  Captain Azurris slows the ship so that news can be shouted back and forth, and we recognize Captain Serrus among the guard.  Dame asks one more time our disposition on Tannor Brin—we confirm our decision to keep him aboard, and Captain Azurris seems pleased to not have to leave a man behind with so much uncertainty ahead.

We’re asked to dine with the Captain and the officers in his quarters, and we accept.  We are led below decks in the early evening hours.  While not the most comfortable arrangement, his quarters are large enough to fit a table meant to seat ten.  Captain Azurris, his lieutenant, the icemaster and Revenant are all in attendance.  We are all seated, and Dame offers a brief introduction for everyone.

As we begin to eat, Captain Azurris speaks, indicating that he wants this group—specifically us, his Archguard—to plan for the approach to Illusk, as we are the most specialized in our skills and experienced in combat and tactics.  He wants to be made aware of our plans in advance, so that he can know how to best direct the crew.

I explain that from a magical perspective, at least, our abilities are best geared towards defense and breaking up a crowd.  He should not expect flashy displays of arcane firepower, but rather we will coordinate our efforts to best protect Moonmaiden and her crew. 

We discuss the potential of leaving Moonmaiden to scout ahead with a small party upon conjured mounts, and ultimately Zargon explains it best, putting the issue to rest: as there is no alternate path, knowledge of what lies ahead does not allow us the ability to change course or prepare any more than we already have.  It is more important to keep our full complement of guards aboard Moonmaiden. 

Dame does not want to steer too close to either bank, should we come under attack, for fear of running aground in a shallow area.  He explains that the ship can likely sail within thirty yards of either bank, should we need to approach.  We discuss the ships armament and stores of ammunition—several men aboard have bows or crossbows, and each has an ample store of arrows and bolts, five score or more for each archer.  We are pleased with the level of preparedness.

Captain Azurris explains that at any given time, one crewman mans the crow’s nest with a spyglass—a rare artifact indeed that allows for one to see faraway objects, and one that will hopefully alert us of danger and provide time to prepare a suitable defense.  That gives us some peace of mind, at least, as Audric discusses how boulders and fire can be rained down on the ship as we cross under the stone bridges of Illusk.  We hope to keep a low profile and avoid confrontation if possible.  “Keep the ship moving, keep the crew safe” is our unified goal.

We share our plans to split into three watches and share them with Rann and Kaderron, the Highguard, as well as the men in their employ; this should allow us to have a reasonable complement of guards on deck at any given time.  Captain Azurris and the others seem satisfied with the plans, and once our meal is finished, we depart to disseminate them to the other guards and prepare for the night ahead.

The first night aboard Moonmaiden passes uneventfully.  The quarters are not particularly comfortable, but better than sleeping outdoors, and before long we become accustomed to the constant rocking and movements of the ship.  The following day, the sun beats down on the deck, and as we travel further west, the banks to either side start to rise—this should continue as we approach Illusk, though our crow’s nest is still at a height to provide us the ability to see ahead and identify potential threats.

Zargon regales us with tales of ambushes from stories he has heard, which does little to diminish the sense that we are utterly alone and completely vulnerable on this journey.  Nevertheless, we execute our rotation of guards and continue as planned.  As the sun begins its descent for the second time, our minds turn to Illusk and what we might find there.  Before we retire, however, we are alerted by calls from the deck of a winged creature that approached from the south before turning west—the men think that it was perhaps a wyvern.  Fortunately, it seems to be distancing itself from the river, so whilst we have guards ready to man the heavy crossbows and position archers on deck, we are otherwise content to let it pass us by.  There’s muttering on deck of it being an ill omen, but aside from that, there seems to be no major cause for concern.  The rest of the night passes without incident.

The next morning, we awaken to dark clouds overhead.  “Another ill omen,” I mutter to myself bitterly, a perspective seemingly shared by many among the crewmen.  From the crow’s nest, we hear a call, alerting us to something on the south bank—a small party of humanoids, possibly orcs, few in number.  Audric calls the other guards to the deck, and we wait for several long minutes before we catch sight of them.

There are three figures lurking on the south bank.  As we approach within a hundred yards, we can discern from their posture and tones of flesh that these are indeed orcs.  There’s a moment of stillness as they regard our ship and mutual recognition sets in, then one of the orcs leaves its group and begins running along the bank to the west.  The others crouch down as if seeking cover or trying for a view better of the ship.

Not wanting to allow the orc to alert others if we can avoid it, Lom, Bonie and Zargon bring their bows to bear, and we direct a pair of guards manning heavy crossbows to loose bolts as well.  A volley of missiles flies from our deck, though we are reasonably certain that all miss.  The orc flees inland and we lose sight of it.  “That makes three now,” I grunt, tallying the ill omens.  Looking back at the pair of orcs left behind, we can see them lying on the ground in heavy cover and decide not to waste ammunition.  Disappointed, we return to our stations and keep watch for what might lie ahead.

The crew seems morose and low in spirits after our failed encounter, and there are mutterings among the crew indicative of low morale.  Our run of ill luck is not done, however, as several hours later, ahead on the south bank we see a fire in the distance.  The man in the crow’s nest calls down that it appears to be a large bonfire, left unattended.  We drift by the fire in silence.

Fear and unrest seem to grip the crew, with many of the men looking as if they regret their decision to join this voyage.  The bank continues to rise as we progress further west, and late into the afternoon, approaching sundown, we witness a large warband of orcs on the south bank—they raise weapons and grunt foul taunts to Moonmaiden, and the intimidation strikes our crew as if it were a physical blow.

I quickly pull Zargon aside, asking him to speak with the men, fearing what might happen if the morale continues to plummet.  Zargon does not disappoint, and delivers a rousing speech about seizing the moment, taking the fight to the orcs, and crashing through any opposition that lies ahead.  “It all comes down to this, men!”  Naming off the crew one by one, Zargon calls upon their bravery.  “Now is the time, we either push through or we die trying—either way, we kill as many orcs as we can along the way!”  Zargon’s talent is undeniable, as I find myself ready to draw steel and taste the iron of orc blood.

The warband nearly matches our crew in size.  Dame turns toward the north bank, away from the gathered orcs, but the warband marches west with us towards Illusk, keeping pace.  Rallied by Zargon, we give call for bows out, and Audric marches along the deck.  “Everyone not steering the ship should have a bow hand and a sword at their belt!” he cries, and the crew responds.  Audric orders stores of ammunition brought from storage, and several bundles of arrows and bolts for the heavy crossbows are piled onto the deck.  We appeal to Captain Azurris to raise speed, and Moonmaiden responds to his deft handling of the wheel.

The tension of the constant jeers, shouts and guttural cries of the orcs is unrelenting.  As the guards put arrow to string and make ready to fire, Audric command the guards.  “Our goal is to breach Illusk, not kill every orc we see.  We will do whatever needs done to push through.”   Dame accelerates Moonmaiden as best he can, spreading every inch of sail, steering into the current and favoring the north bank.  Slowly, the marching orcs are overtaken, needing to jog to keep up.  The men are bolstered as we outpace our foes, and some call out their own taunts to the orcs as we pass them by.

Finally, the ship reaches a spot on the river where the space between banks widens and we’re provided with a few miles of visibility in the dimming light.  On the edge of the darkening horizon, the river broadens into a delta that spills into the sea beyond.  Upon the south bank lies Illusk, and ahead we see the stone bridges we were told about early in the voyage—on either bank can be seen hordes of orcs and larger creatures, likely ogres, a veritable army of foes.

There are but minutes before we clash with our enemy.  Beyond the gathered orcs and ogres, we spy another obstacle, and we can see Captain Azurris wither.  Spanning the River Mirar, lying a mile directly ahead, there is another bridge, this one made from reinforced rope and wooden planks.  The rope bridge spans the entire river, unavoidable, and sags dangerously low with the weight of dozens of orcs upon it.  The rope bridge is too low for Moonmaiden to pass without risking her masts.  The crew is silent as Captain Azurris looks to us for guidance.

We convene for a panicked moment to discuss options.  Dame warns that if the masts are damaged, even if we somehow manage to win through Illusk and the army of orcs, he might not be able to control Moonmaiden and keep us near the coast, fearing that we might drift out to sea.

As running aground is too great a threat should we try to run close to the north bank where the rope bridge is highest, and lacking any way to magically clear a path, we call for Dame to slow Moonmaiden’s approach.  Our hope is that Captain Azurris can minimize damage to the ship and her masts as he pulls close to the bridge at an angle nearly parallel to it, allowing us to launch an assault on the orcs atop the bridge so that we might work to sever the heavy ropes that bar our path.

As if that were not enough, we see yet another threat on the south bank.  Orcs and ogres have constructed a pair of mighty catapults and are even now loading heavy boulders into the cradles of the weapons.  Calculating our approach, we know that it will be several minutes until we reach the rope bridge, so we make preparations and call out archers.  Zargon raises his voice in a familiar tune, his voice laced with a bardic magic that helps calm the adrenaline and focus our efforts as Audric orders the archers to send a volley into the warband that has been harassing us. 

I begin to weave abjurations, using the first to protect Captain Azurris—should he fall to an unlucky arrow, it would spell disaster for all.  I cast another upon myself and then stand near the center of Moonmaiden’s deck, beginning a chant of my own to counter the cries of the army of orcs, calling upon the Beastlord to shelter us from the shafts of our enemy while lending a hunter’s accuracy to our own, and Malar answers as the crew sends volley after volley into the orcs.  The orcs return a feeble volley of javelins and spears that splash into the river as more than a dozen are cut down by the arrows of Moonmaiden’s crew before the warband flees.

As we approach within range of the siege engines, we make ready to unleash hell.  Audric calls that there’s no reason to hold ammunition as the crew releases fire into the enemy.  We call out for the men to aim at the ogres, hoping that, if we can fell them, the orcs might be unable or unwilling to crew the weapons, but their numbers are too many.  The first boulder, a ranging shot, splashes into the water in front of the ship.  A pair of ogres are slain by arrows and crossbows, but more step forward to take their places, sending another boulder that splashes into the river, this one nearer its target.

The rope bridge draws near, and we can see that many orcs atop it bear crossbows.  We brace for the carnage those weapons will cause.  Audric, Zargon and I step forward together, each conjuring forth a caustic missile of arcane energy, hoping to weaken the bridge as we approach.  Zargon’s missile is the only one to strike true, the heavy ropes sizzling as they begin to dissolve.

A hailstorm of deadly projectiles rains from the rope bridge, and both Audric and Zargon are struck as well as several crewmen.  Captain Azurris is struck as well, but protected by my magic, the arrow bounces off him harmlessly.  The ship is rocked by a heavy boulder that strikes her hull, but not before our men loose a retaliatory volley of their own.  Orcs rain from the wooden bridge, more than half a dozen falling dead or dying from arrows, though an endless stream of others takes their place.

Another boulder splashes into the water as I use my magic to conjure a rolling wall of fog between Moonmaiden and the catapults.  The rope struck by Zargon’s spell snaps loudly as the acid dissolves it, leaving but seven more to sever the bridge completely.  Arrows are sent from Moonmaiden’s deck and received—many orcs are slain, and crewmen struck, but they fight through their wounds with bravery.

Captain Azurris throws his weight into the rudder, causing Moonmaiden to scream against the strain as he pulls nearly parallel to the rope bridge.  We can see two dozen orcs ready to wreak havoc on Moonmaiden, as Selben and I step forward to disperse the crowd.  My apprentice’s eyes begin to glow as he chants, causing half the group to flee in terror.  Another cluster falls into an enchanted slumber by my own magic, and in the center of the eruption of arcane energy, Audric summons forth a band of orcs atop a pile of dead kin, setting them to work on the ropes with hatchets and crude blades.

The ship is rocked again by a catapult—an unlucky shot.  Both Zargon and Selben are struck by multiple arrows as they dive for cover, and Bonie pulls a bloody shaft from her shoulder.  One of Audric’s orcs severs another rope—six yet remain—with a well-placed strike of its hatchet.  As Moonmaiden sweeps into the bridge, there is a sickening crack as one of the masts breaks, though two remain intact.  “To the bridge!” I cry, knowing that pushing through the rope bridge is our only way ahead, as three orcs leap from it onto the deck.  One lands awkwardly with a shivering crack, slain from the fall, but the others pull themselves to their feet as Lom rushes forward to meet them.

Boulders continue to splash into the water and arrows continue to fly, felling both orc and man.  Selben is struck again while casting a spell, and nearly collapses from his wounds.  Drawing upon my magic, I seize the minds of any orcs nearby, forcing them to abandon their crossbows to attack me—a half dozen orcs crash into one another in a race to get to me, just as Audric completes a conjuration that causes a swarm of bats to block off the bridge from the south bank, buying us precious seconds.  We hear the snap of another rope, severed by one of Audric’s orcs—five left.

Lom is gravely wounded as he faces off against two foes but drives the shorter of his blades up through the neck of one of the orcs.  Audric looks on with concern, but I wave him away, telling him it’s more important to cut the ropes and that I will see to Lom.  I cause the air around Lom’s second foe to solidify, binding it in place, before Lom cuts it down.  Zargon and Bonie scramble nimbly up the ratlines onto the bridge, where they begin to saw at the ropes, and both are struck again by arrows from unseen foes.  Zargon catches himself, holding on with but one hand, as Bonie falls, landing heavily onto the deck.  With Lom’s foes conquered, I leave him to find Bonie.

Audric scrambles up the lines to the rope bridge with an uncanny agility, aided by Selben’s magic.  Only two of Audric’s summoned orcs yet remain, though together with Zargon they sever two more of the ropes that bar our path—leaving only three, which sing with strain as they hold the bridge together.  In the chaos, I find Bonie unconscious on the deck, and call upon the Beastlord to heal her wounds—I offer Malar a silent prayer as her eyes open feebly.

Another boulder pierces the fog and crashes into Moonmaiden, pinning a crewman to the deck as it crashes through the planks.  Nearby, Lom takes an arrow in the back and falls to his knees, spitting blood onto the deck.  Selben, heavily wounded, stands his ground and uses a spell to attempt to weaken one of the remaining ropes, which screams with tension in response, though it does not break. 

Zargon looks up and acknowledges Audric with a smile as the pair set to work on the remaining ropes.  Zargon, already grievously wounded, is peppered by more arrows—light flickers from the bard’s eyes as he shifts between consciousness and darkness, still trying to fight against his injuries to cut through the bridge.  Finally, Audric’s enchanted blade, handled deftly by Mystra’s champion, severs one of the remaining two ropes and, all at once, the bridge collapses.

Orcs rain from the bridge, striking the deck and hull of Moonmaiden before falling to their deaths.  Shattered bits of plank from the bridge and twirls of rope fly through the air.  Audric crashes to the deck amidst a pile of dead orcs.  Zargon—brave Zargon—fighting against waves of unconsciousness from his accumulated wounds, arrows protruding from his back and both sides—loses his grip and, unable to control his descent, plummets into the black water of the River Mirar, disappearing into darkness.

Moonmaiden surges past the bridge, Captain Azurris throwing his weight into the rudder to steer it away from the rapidly approaching south bank.  Looking ahead, the stone bridges are clear of threat, as all the orcs had gathered at the wooden bridge to assault the ship.  I pull Bonie to her feet and we struggle to the stern of Moonmaiden, where I find Audric, Selben and Lom—all standing in silence, wracked by loss, looking back to Illusk, looking back to where Zargon fell.

Raising my hand, I whisper a few words to summon a dim arcane light in the sky, which floats gently towards the water as we leave Illusk and our friend behind.

Audric and I tend to the wounded crewmen, managing to pull two of them from the doors of Myrkul’s realm.  One is the ship’s scribe, the other is one of the Tunterhorn brothers.  Our magical energies expended, the rest of the crew are either too far beyond our ability to save, or their souls have already departed.

As Moonmaiden breaks through the delta into the open sea, Captain Azurris works frantically, calling out orders to the remaining crew, as his ability to steer and control the ship is very much in question due to the damage the ship has taken.  The ship lists heavily, her hull punctured by many boulders.  We put ourselves under Captain Azurris’ command, not sure how to help—he has us looking out over the sides to make sure we don’t strike any rocks as Moonmaiden breaches the sea.

Over the course of the next several minutes, we ensure that Moonmaiden doesn’t crash into rocks as Dame hugs the northern coast, steering away from the delta, having managed to regain control of the vessel and her two remaining masts.  He tasks us with collecting bodies of the deceased crew and disposing of the orc corpses, a duty we accept solemnly, our minds on our fallen friend.

Within a few days, we make our arrival in Fireshear.  As we enter the bay, I stand at the bow of Moonmaiden with Bonie, and mutter softly, “I don’t believe in omens.”  She looks up at me curiously but says nothing.

* * *

In Dagger’s Deep, standing on the pebbled banks of the River Mirar, looking out into the night, a single tear falls unbidden upon Seirsha’s cheek. 

* * *

Elsewhere, Falaeira stares dead-eyed at the ceiling as the large, hairy man climbs atop her and enters her, grunting.  When he finishes and makes ready to leave, he turns and regards her one last time with disgust.  “The money is on the counter.”  Falaeira doesn’t hear the words though, her mind instead focused on a name from the past, a memory of a man—a man named Zargon.

#38: Past Be Damned

I recover quickly in the days after our encounter with Rale Cotchen, and with a clear goal in mind, we devote ourselves to various tasks around Dagger’s Deep.  Selben cloisters himself away somewhere in town, deep in study over a new enchantment.  In a turn of events, I become the student, studying over his fastidious notes to try and master the spell myself.  I find his notes to be thorough and meticulous, and though the type of magic is somewhat foreign to me, I am able to commit his spell to memory, translating it into my own rather haphazard and comparatively sloppy arcane recipe.

My young apprentice devotes another two nights to research of yet another spell, this one beyond my ability to comprehend; his success is evidenced by several strange, spectral sounds which emanate from the river keep throughout the night as he learns to harness and control the new magic.

When not at our studies, we share company with Zargon and Audric, and our conversations inevitably turn toward our plans to rendezvous with Dame and his crew aboard Moonmaiden.  We very much want to avoid confrontation with Rale as well as any encounter with the Axe of Mirabar; given our desperation, there are few scenarios where it doesn’t end with either our incarceration or several dead Mirabarran guards.  Neither result is what we’re looking for, so we focus instead on ways to communicate our situation and our intent with Dame. 

The safest plan seems to be to send a neutral messenger—perhaps Selben, nearly unrecognizable after having been made over by Seirsha, Lom, or even Abram, the acoloyte of Gond—all seem like reasonable options to get into and out of Mirabar without raising too much suspicion.  We decide to approach Abram, as he is the least associated with us directly, and see if he will deliver our message.

In the meantime, Perhegan arranges an encounter with us to share his own feelings regarding the tension between us and Rale, and how that may grow or may have already grown into a problem between Dagger’s Deep and Mirabar itself.  If Mirabar decides to send soldiers to take over Dagger’s Deep, there is little that he or the residents can do to prevent that, and while on our side, he has legitimate concerns about the situation and what it may mean for Dagger’s Deep, its residents, and his investment in the burgeoning settlement.

We share that our intent is to honor Rale’s ban while still honoring our commitment with Dame.  Should the issue of our association with Dagger’s Deep become an issue, he can claim that he has severed ties with us or even expelled us from the settlement.  It’s not an ideal solution but provides him options to reduce tensions and continue to conduct his business.  We are all sympathetic to his cause and regretful that we’ve provided him this struggle, but we explain again that we intend on a plan that has the least chance of any encounter with Rale or the Axe of Mirabar while still allowing us to honor our commitments.  He seems satisfied with the resolution.

As time passes, we’re able to examine Dagger’s Deep in a more detached fashion.  Slowly, tents are beginning to turn into masonry huts or small houses.  Construction on the river keep continues, the trades continue to develop, and we’re struck by the notion that when we eventually return to Dagger’s Deep, it will likely be a much different place.  Relationships have been built, new lives created, others ended, sometimes by violence.  We have grown to care for and be cared for by the residents of Dagger’s Deep and thinking about leaving it all behind brings a certain remorse.

Our reminiscing, however, is interrupted by the clarion call of horns announcing a visitor.  As such visits are exceedingly rare, we rush to that side of town to investigate.  Along the trail approaches a single individual on foot, trudging up the road carrying a large sack on his shoulders.  Though there doesn’t appear to be any threat, we let Perhegan know that we will greet the traveler, and the town’s leader assents.

As we draw near, we can see that it is a young man; younger than Selben, perhaps in his early teens.  He sees us approach, and we send forth our ambassador, Zargon.  The bard steps forward to represent the town’s interest, and upon greeting the young man, he responds that he’s looking for honest work.  When asked where he’s from, his reply is cryptic.  “I prefer not to say, m’lord.”

The boy explains that he heard of this place on his travels and that he’s looking for a new place to call home.  “Did you break out of jail in Mirabar?” Zargon interjects gruffly, which seems to cause the boy some alarm. 

“No m’lord,” he stutters in response, as Audric interceds to defuse the situation, asking about the boy’s skills or trade.  “I have none, m’lord,” he replies dejectedly.

The decision is made to bring him to Perhegan.  “We’re not the right group to make this decision, but Perhegan is.  Follow us,” Audric instructs, and we turn back towards town.  Perhegan asks a similar line of questions, and the boy answers with equally equivocal responses.

“Dagger’s Deep could be a home for you,” Perhegan states, “as it could be for anyone with honor and honesty.  But in order to join us, you have to be truthful and tell us who you are.”  Sensing that the boy may yet refuse to answer Perhagan’s questions, Zargon takes him aside.

The bard shares a story of his own experiences with the Axe of Mirabar, and while we are all perplexed by the tale and its relevance to the situation, the boy nods and seems to understand that he’s not going to be allowed entry without coming clean.  “My name is Milter.  I hail from Grunwald, m’lord.  I have no family, no wealth to my name.  I took in with a band of highwaymen north of Longsaddle, heard tale of this settlement while in Xantharl’s Keep, and made the journey here, after I escaped.”

Perhegan seems convinced of the boy, and his story.  He will find work for Milter and asks us to find a suitable place for him to camp.  “Welcome to Dagger’s Deep,” Zargon says in introduction, grabbing his arm, “but alright, listen—I don’t buy your story.  Do not mess with Dagger’s Deep or its citizens.”  Though we can’t hear all the words they share, the tone of threat in Zargon’s voice is obvious, and Milter pales as Zargon points to me and Audric, clearly overcome with fear. 

“Yes m’lord, I’ll work hard.  I won’t let you down,” Milter replies, shaken.

Audric breaks up the conversation.  “Zargon here is no lord,” he says flatly, and escorts Milter away.  The boy has little in the way of belongings, so we gather some extra supplies to make him a tent and a small place to call his own.

After settling in the boy, Perhegan approaches us to elaborate on his decision.  Milter came clean about falling in with the wrong crowd, Perhegan explains, and while he can’t necessarily be trusted, neither should his story be outright discounted.  “We’ll have to keep an eye on him,” is his resolution, and we agree.

In the days that follow, Milter keeps to himself but attends his duties well.  His first real connection seems to be a young teenager whom we recruited from Mirabar, one of the stonemason’s apprentice.  He takes Milter under his wing, and we’re glad to see him fit in.  Our initial worries that he might bring harm to Dagger’s Deep seem unfounded.

As our scheduled departure draws nearer, we present Abram with our plan, and the acolyte seems agreeable and glad for the chance to see his family again.  We intend to send Lom and Selben with him on the journey; Selben will conjure mounts for the group, the pair will wait for Abram outside the walls of Mirabar while Abram delivers our message to Dame, and Abram will spend the night with his family before meeting up with Selben and Lom again to make the return trip.  The message for Dame is simple—that we have encountered difficulties that prevent us from entering Mirabar, but that we will send Lom the day of the journey and meet up with Moonmaiden a mile downriver.

When Abram returns, he explains that he was questioned at the gate why he’s traveling alone—he explained that it was to visit his father, though Abram lied and said he was from Xantharl’s Keep, not Dagger’s Deep.  We trust Abram’s intuition on the matter, and it is a clever lie to deflect any attention.  Abram was able to deliver our message to Dame, and the captain does not seem overly concerned about the unforeseen obstacle; our plan is set.  There were no encounters with guards with the exception of those at the gate.  The return trip is completed without incidence, and we count the venture a success.

We decide on our final course of action.  Lom is to be left north of Minstrel’s Glade to complete the rest of the journey to Mirabar himself, while we cut west overland and then north to meet the river while staying out of sight of Mirabar’s walls.  If all goes as planned, we will rendezvous with Dame and board Moonmaiden before it continues downriver through Post South.  Though the Axe has a presence there, we are not worried about any conflict as long as we keep our heads down.

We complete our final preparations a few days before Moonmaiden is set to depart.  We share our goodbyes with Perhegan and the other residents of Dagger’s Deep, and there’s a weight to the departure, as if we might not ever return or see them again.  Bonie takes her farewells with Edine, Seirsha and Odesia especially hard, as they have become close over the months spent in their company.  Perhegan, Tarrsh and Kallevir share their own words of thanks, and their hopes that we’ll someday return.  There’s a gravity throughout the settlement, and the magnitude of our decision begins to set in.  We visit the shrine to share one last blessing with the town and request one of our own from our respective deities, and with heavy hearts, we turn our backs on Dagger’s Deep.

We are not long in our journey, however, before our solemn procession is interrupted by movement in the woods ahead.  Our horses instinctively slow to a trot.  Those with bows draw them as I dismount and head towards the disturbance, unwilling to leave any potential threat this close to Dagger’s Deep uninvestigated.  From the foliage, a trio of small spears is hurled at me while another volley is loosed at those on horseback.  I am struck by one but dodge the others; Zargon is grazed, but the rest of the spears miss their mark as our archers loose arrows.

If these are not goblins, then they are certainly close kin.  Most of the arrows from our group miss due to the heavy cover provided by the foliage, though one of Bonie’s shafts strikes true, eliciting a squeal from the victim, confirming that our attackers are indeed goblins.  Zargon draws a bead on one of the foes and is satisfied by a squelch as he too strikes flesh.  Selben slings a bullet that explodes against a tree as I charge into the brush, finding one of the goblins, and send my maul crashing into its spine.  Nearby, three lean, serpentine creatures appear with beady eyes—conjured by Audric—and they focus on our attackers and attempt to bring them down.  Only one succeeds, but it stands atop the goblin hissing victoriously as it drives its spear repeatedly into the goblin’s head.

“Stop shooting, there’s only a few of them!” I cry out, trying to prevent the waste of arrows, and the others dismount to join the fray, leaving Bonie and Selben to tend the mounts and cover our flanks.  The two remaining goblins turn towards me and charge, and though I fend off one of them, the other shivs me with a small, serrated blade that grinds across a rib.

Audric and Lom each barrel into one of the enemies, Lom staggering his target while Audric cuts into the goblin that struck me, severing it from mid-torso to clavicle, the head and arm landing on the ground several yards from the rest of its corpse.  Audric turns on the last remaining goblin and cuts it down.  We make a crude spectacle of our encounter by severing heads and placing them upon the goblins’ javelins before continuing our journey.  The rest of our trip to Minstrel’s Glade is uncontested, twilight setting in as we approach Mirabar.

We decide to camp off the road a few miles from the fortress and eschew a fire, hoping to prevent any encounter with the Axe.  We split into three watches, Audric administering healing to our wounds before settling in.  During my watch with Bonie, we hear hooves along the road and see the dim light of torches in the distance; having chosen to camp without fire, however, they pass without stopping or seeming to notice us.

The next morning, Selben conjures a mount for Lom and we dispatch him to Mirabar as we part ways, the rest of us heading west.  We catch occasional views of the fortress city to the north in the distance, though we’re far enough away that we’re confident we can avoid being seen.  Fortunately, our travel across the plains is relatively easy—it’s open ground with few places for enemies or threats to hide.  As the sun begins to set, we make our way north to meet the river and wait, all of us hoping that Lom was able to complete his part of the mission without any problems.

We decide to wait the night out on the south bank of the river, opposite the road, choosing to camp without a fire again in case anyone might pass nearby on road.  Anxiety makes our night restless, and we find it hard to sleep with general unease of being separated from Lom and uncertainty over any potential interference Rale may have had with Moonmaiden.  We rouse with the sun and are rewarded by the sight of the approaching ship.  It’s hard for our spirits not to be raised, and we gather near the bank.  It takes several long, tense minutes as we wait for its approach.

Moonmaiden lumbers downriver; it’s not suited for river travel, being kitted out for the open sea.  A rope ladder is extended down from the side of the ship and a small rowboat is lowered, which paddles to shore allowing us to board.  We can see Dame and Lom aboard the vessel, and share several congratulatory slaps on the back and cheers. 

“I present to you your Archguard,” Dame calls out once we’re finally aboard, and we’re greeted with cheers from the crew.  It is a warm, and very much welcome, reception.

“There is one more order of business,” Dame says solemnly, presenting us with the formal roster of Moonmaiden’s crew for us to sign, consummating our deal with captain.

I share details with Dame of our conflict with Rale Cotchen, the ban imposed upon us, and of a potential encounter with Rale and his men in Post South.  Fortunately, Captain Azurris is not concerned, especially when I assure him it would take a small army to arrest us or attempt to halt our passage.  With Dame’s authority and support, we feel confident that there will not be a problem, and take satisfaction in starting our relationship with the captain and his crew with honesty.

We are shown our quarters and stow our gear, taking a few moments to take in our new home, encouraged by our success and ready to confront what the future holds.

Roster of Moonmaiden

Following is a full crew list of Moonmaiden as of the seventh month (Flamerule), 1255 DR, ordered by rank.

EDIT: Updated 4/24/2020

* * *

We, the undersigned, hereby pledge our Loyalty and Fealty, by Honor of Blood and Penalty of Death, to the vessel Moonmaiden, her Captain, her Officers, and her Crew, as designated by Rank, assigned and documented forthwith:


#. Name (Role, Place of Origin)

1. Dame Azurris (Captain, Mirabar)
2. Revenant (Main Benefactor, Mirabar)
3. Shantor Ilfaen, (Lieutenant, Mirabar)
4. Roldo Feldinstar, (Icemaster, Termalaine)
5. Audric (Archguard, Dagger's Deep)
6. Zargon (Archguard, Dagger's Deep)
7. Bonie (Archguard, Dagger's Deep)
8. Zeb (Archguard, Dagger's Deep)
9. Selben (Archguard, Dagger's Deep)
10. Lom (Archguard, Dagger's Deep)
11. Rann Orcsbane (First Highguard, Neverwinter)
12. Kaderron (Second Highguard, Mirabar)
13. Edlad Woodsong (First Seaman, Port Llast)
14. Harvish Molidain (Second Seaman, Port Llast)
15. Dirk Greenmantle (guard, Mirabar)
16. Callisto Flynd (guard, Mirabar)
17. Arcon Tunterhorn (guard, Grunwald)
18. Raganok Tunterhorn (guard, Grunwald)*
19. Paitchel (bowyer, Mirabar)
20. Farrick Brenstor (surgeon, Xantharl's Keep)
21. Ilwen Riandor (scribe, Mirabar)*
22. Kartesh Ordenvar (tailor, Mirabar)
23. Artemis Jahn (quartermaster, Mirabar)
24. Carwelgan (crew, Mirabar)
25. Jirst Castleborn (crew, Mirabar)
26. Angeline (crew, Mirabar)
27. Delv Windmere (crew, Mirabar)
28. Mundel (crew, Grunwald)
29. Holodan Surepike (crew, Mirabar)
30. Nimbol (crew, Mirabar)
31. Tannor Brin (crew, Longsaddle)
32. Tilidar Bluerock (armsmonger, Mirabar)
33. Angus Brightanvil (oremonger, Mirabar)
34. Wyn Tetherbell (foodmonger, Mirabar)
35. Bruns Sage Lorinth (furmonger, Mirabar)

* = Revived from death's door

Selben: A Clean Slate

While Zeb spends his time arguing with Bonie, making up with Bonie, arguing with Audric, or plotting with Zargon and Audric on how to gain entry into Mirabar despite Rale Cotchen's ban, Selben spends his days in isolation, deep in study.

Now that interest in the river keep has dulled, he appropriates the musty cellar of the keep as a makeshift study, scavenging bits of discarded wax from about Dagger's Deep and stuffing it into the recesses of various bits of bone he has collected.  His trophy is a bit of skull from the assault on Dagger's Deep--though unsure, he thinks it may have actually belonged to one of the masons who was working on the keep before he was slaughtered.  "It fits," he whispers to himself, smiling slightly.

Concluding his studies, Selben closes his tome of spells, into which he has been making nearly an entire page of neatly-organized notes, the recipe for a new enchantment.  He leaves his materials, however--the working men of Dagger's Deep have given Selben a wide berth, always feeling a little uncomfortable around the black-robed apprentice, and Selben has little fear that his study will be disturbed.

When he emerges, the sun has nearly set, and Selben looks towards the tents.  He smiles to himself as he sees Seirsha outside her tent, and as if having settled on some decision, walks that way with purpose.  She has avoided him, for the most part, since their encounter at the beach, but something about being around Seirsha makes his chest hurt in a good way.

Though he approaches with confidence, that confidence quickly fades as she turns to regard him and he sees her look around, as if making sure others are nearby, before smiling at Selben weakly.  He senses her discomfort, and he nearly turns around and runs away before she breaks the silence.  "Good evening Selben," she says.  "Can I help you with something?"  She cranes her neck as if trying to see beyond the hood of his robe to look upon the face that resides within.

Selben pushes a few rocks on the ground with his toe before responding.  "Yes," he says nervously, then pulls back his hood, realizing how weird it is to have it up during a conversation.  Selben looks a mess--his skin is pale from too much time spent in the cellar or underneath the heavy hood of his black robe.  His facial hair grows in thin and patchy, and looks as if it has not been groomed in several days.  His hair, likewise, is an unkempt mess, hanging unevenly to the base of his neck, with bits of bone braided into it as fetishes.

"I need," he begins before correcting, "I mean I want...can you make me look handsome?"  The question, blurted out, is an odd one, and despite many of the strange requests that may have been presented to Seirsha during the more questionable parts of her past, this one is entirely new.  There's a desperation in his voice, however, that catches her off guard.

What follows is a rapid and scattered explanation of Selben's request, an apology for being so awkward about it, and information about why the request is so important to him.  Seirsha listens on, compelled by the young man's vulnerability and honesty, and once finished, she gives Selben a warm smile, inviting him into her tent.

When he finally emerges, he has discarded the worn, heavy black robes.  She has untangled his hair, cut it neatly, and removed his ghastly adornments.  His face is clean-shaven, his nails trimmed--the finished result is almost unrecognizable.  Seirsha hands him his robe, tied into a bundle.  "Thank you, Seirsha," Selben says warmly.

"Any time," she teases, as Selben leaves her tent with a bounce in his step.

The Words That Bind Us

“You are never to set foot in the city of Mirabar again.”

The statement, spoken by Rale Cotchen but relayed secondhand since he was sprawled out and bleeding upon the ground during its utterance, assails Zeb's mind as Bonie re-dresses his wounds in the confines of their tent in Dagger's Deep.

An idle threat, surely, for all that the guard captain's doomspeak has ever mattered to Zeb and his allies. Yet the terseness in Bonie's hands as she cuts off a final wrap betrays his thoughts, ere she remarks, abruptly:

“I think we should return to the source of all this. Longsaddle. Those were your words. Do you remember? Do you still think that? Now that we're exiled from Mirabar and committed to sailing downriver through orc-infested lands to emerge, if we survive, in the open sea, and then winter over in the Frozenfar? I didn't dare speak my mind against ye when everyone else was decided, but history never told of any ‘Mirabar Run’ that I came to hear of in my life before... before all of this.”

Her gaze, colder than the most frigid winds of Icewind Dale, pierces Zeb to his core.

“I still seek answers,” she says determinedly. “But the longer we go on, I'm fearin' that the only thing you truly seek is death.”

With a huff, she rises and takes leave of the tent, not waiting for any reply. Outside, she makes her way to Audric, newly returned from the Mystran shrine erected at the edge of the encampment. “He'll be ready in a few hours, if ye care to heal him further. Though I'd not begrudge ye if ye didn't.”

The venom in her tone washes over the crusader as he feels its force, though he knows it not intended for him. Since their encounter with Rale Cotchen along the road and subsequent return, the woman has struggled to preserve her normal stoicism. In truth, between them all, interactions have mostly been brief, curt, and matter-of-fact, exchanging details pertinent to their situation but accompanied by few of their usual pleasantries.

Bonie then turns from Audric, heading purposefully in the direction of Seirsha and Edine, who busy themselves tending a pair of young goats whilst Zargon stands idly by, practicing his lute.

In her wake, the tension rests on the edge of a knife.

#37: Kill or Be Killed

Audric resurfaces from the Undercity a few hours later, his face pale, with a wan smile that marks at least a partial success.  He catches us up on the encounter between Corenar and Thrur, and of the tentative peace that was made before Audric withdrew.  While “success” is perhaps too strong a word, we count the task of delivering news of Corin’s demise complete and settle upon a few final arrangements that will take a couple of days before we head back to Dagger’s Deep.

While I cloister myself away in my room with Ethelenda’s tome of arcane recipes, Audric leads the rest of the crew to the other side of Mirabar to revisit Detrius’ Armory and determine the armorer’s disposition on the suit of hide.

On the way, however, the band witnesses the construction of a large vessel, and having heard whispers of what locals are calling “Mirabar Run,” Audric decides to investigate.  The vessel is to be manned by adventurous individuals who intend to push through orc-controlled lands downriver, all the way through the ruins of Illusk and into open waters.  Ultimately, the vessel is bound for a city called Fireshear in the far north, due for arrival before the waters become too dangerous and full of ice to traverse.

Audric and the others are brought to a captain of mercenaries in charge of recruitment for the voyage, and they negotiate rates to determine if it’s a venture worth consideration.  The man introduces himself as Dame Azurris, revealing that he’s more than just a mercenary captain—indeed, he’s to captain the vessel!  “Assuming we make it through Illusk alive, and assuming we reach our destination, most likely we’ll winter over in the Frozenfar.”  He explains how the return voyage becomes more treacherous due to the change in seasons, and discusses some of the options they’ve considered, including sailing south to Neverwinter once the snows pass.

There is a discussion of the skills we offer and how they might benefit such a trip, and the conversation is left open should we wish to return and pursue the venture more seriously.  Audric thanks Dame for his time.  Upon returning to the armory, Detrius greets Audric and shares his assessment of the task, to make a truly quality suit of mail.  The agreement he offers is to produce a single suite of scaled mail in return for the leftover pieces of hide, which he believes can be used for other, smaller items.  Based on his workload, he feels that the task might take several weeks to months, potentially quicker if the project is funded so that he can work on it exclusively.

When we convene later that night, we talk of many things but keep finding the conversation steered back to the Mirabar Run.  Audric catches me up on the details, and the voyage does indeed have an appeal; after some deliberation, we decide to pursue Mirabar Run instead of a journey to Longsaddle and points south, as we had originally planned.  It satisfies our desires to pursue new lands and new opportunities, with the potential to perhaps learn more about the parchment and the strange figure that preceded us on our visit to Thrur.

We return to Dame the next day and explain to the man our intention to appeal to sign onto his Moonmaiden.  Dame looks us over again, asking several details about how we came to know one another, what sorts of deeds we have accomplished together, and what skills we have that would be of benefit to the Run.

Audric, Lom and Zargon introduce themselves, each sharing their various experiences and talents.  Bonie is stoic in her own introduction.  “Born and raised in Mirabar, learned the ways of the sword from my father in…Wes…Mirabar.”  She falters, nearly mentioning Westtower (which does not yet exist), before quickly vouching for the rest of us and our abilities.  I step in when she falters.

“I am Zeb, sworn to Malar.”  At a raised eyebrow, I continue.  “I’ve ripped the tongue from a high priest of Malar and slayed the black beast in his service.  I’ve torn the throat from a priest of Talos with my bare teeth, and together we have slain a 40-foot serpent in the tunnels below Dagger’s Deep.”  I deliver my credentials flatly, without boasting, and bear trophies as proof of my kills that dissuade any doubt.

Finally, Selben steps forward.  “I’m Selben,” the mage introduces himself, a creepy smile visible from within his black cowl. 

Dame asks our price, clearly satisfied with our credentials.  Remembering that the land-based expedition to Icewind Dale commanded rates of 50 to 200 gold and was of comparable danger, Zargon and Audric discuss rates and present an offer to Dame of 250 gold for each of us.

“What cargo do we carry?” I ask, before negotiations get too far.  Dame explains that the ship will be carrying weapons and arms, winter furs and supplies, the types of things that the north needs in abundance.

“This would be my offer to you—1,000 gold to hire you on as archguard of the voyage.  Assuming you fulfill that which you promise, when we reach Fireshear, the entirety of the crew will winter aboard the ship.  There will be suitable accommodations for all.

“We want 1,200 and we each want our own room aboard the ship,” Zargon responds shrewdly.  Dame counters, offering us a private quarter for our company—which is a suitable compromise.

Audric questions the title of “archguard,” and what responsibilities and privileges that title assumes.  Dame explains that there will be additional guard aboard the ship, and all will report to him. We would be considered elevated in terms of rank.

“Any other priests?” I ask flatly.  He replies that there are not, at least not as of this moment.

“1,200 gold is fair,” he replies, “to be paid upon arrival.”  He explains that this term is non-negotiable, and that prior to departure a contract will be signed and pledged to ensure his side of the bargain.  Dame is requiring that everyone return to Moonmaiden on Midsummer’s Day, just over a month away. 

Audric asks if the Axe of Mirabar is to be present, and Dame explains that this is an independent venture, not sponsored or supported by Mirabar.  That, at least, is a relief.  We part on agreeable terms, and vow to return on the appointed day.

Audric enlists the exclusive services of Detrius to expedite production of the armor, passing over a weighty purse of coin to seal the deal.  Our business done for the day, we return to the inn.

Prior to our departure for Dagger’s Deep, I successfully complete my spell research, and Selben learns a new enchantment as well—though my apprentice, he is able to master magics that remain arcane to me, coming from schools in opposition to my own.

The journey between Dagger’s Deep and Mirabar has started to become familiar, and we reflect on our experiences as we lumber back.  Our reflections are disturbed, however, around midday as we hear the approach of hooves behind us.  We pull aside, making way, hoping that they are just travelers that will pass us by.

The men are outfitted as the Axe of Mirabar, and a familiar voice calls out, “Hold!”  The voice belongs to Rale Cotchen and his contingent of guards.  Rale pulls to the front of his group and his men wrap around to the front of the wagon.  He looks down at us maliciously, focusing his glare upon me.

“Mirabar may not hold you accountable to Laerch Strolgam or Corin Redbeard, but the city does not know you as I have.”

I spit on the ground in front of his horse.  “I’ve bled with Laerch, have you?”

Rale dismounts, stepping towards me.  “My cousin and I did not see eye-to-eye on many things, not the least of which his choice of wife…but blood is blood, and I hold you personally responsible for the death of my kinsman.  I intend to settle that debt.”

“Blades or fists?” I ask, still unsure if it will really come to combat.

“Blades,” Rale responds.  He removes his tabard, handing it over to one of his men.  “This is not a Mirabar matter.  This is…personal.  No spells, no magic…no interference,” he commands, twirling his blade.  He wears a suit of chain and carries an iron-banded shield.

Surprisingly, Audric offers his sword to me and Zargon beings to hum a tune, the Ode to Laerch.  After some discussion over the fairness of facing a fully armored soldier, Rale throws his shield to the ground.  “I understand well the defenses you harbor—this is a fair fight,” he says.  With the blessing of my companions, I raise the maul and with a growl, close ranks and attack.

We square off, and in an instant the mood changes from tense preparation and threats to real danger, adrenaline flowing as we engage, looking for openings.  I swing hard and strike, though his armor cushions most of the blow.  His sword snaps back in retaliation and I duck below it, but he lashes out again, cutting a deep wound into my shoulder.  He follows through with a third strike, this one piercing my side, and my lungs begin to fill with blood.

I spit up froth and bright red blood.  “You’re skilled with a blade, Laerch could have used your help while he was being butchered by barbarians and you were sitting in your castle.”  My usual confidence falters, knowing well that I am outmatched, though I pull myself back to my feet.

Rale makes no response.  “That’s what I thought, coward,” I curse.  I swing the maul again, clipping him, but he turns aside and my aggregated wounds prevent me from causing any serious damage.  He counters with a brutal slash that opens my chest and I collapse, immediately unconscious, bleeding out.  He stands over my body and holds his sword to my throat.

“You are never to set foot in the city of Mirabar again,” he says, addressing the group.  With one quick strike he could end my life.

“Once we are aboard the ship for the Mirabar Run, we’ll be gone and never return,” Audric says, briefly explaining our contract with Dame.

“No, you’re never to return...under any terms.  It’s over.”  He remains standing over me, sword poised at my throat, waiting for any response.  When none follows, he retrieves his tabard from his man, mounts his horse, and rides off.

Audric stoops down to staunch the bleeding, and once I recover enough to choke up another gob of blood.  The priest of Mystra delivers me a kick, chastising me for ruining another opportunity and getting us banned from Mirabar.  I’m too bloodied to offer much of a counter.

Bonie’s concern over my wounds is evident; she doesn’t seem happy with my choice of action, but seems relieved that I am alive, at least for the moment.  Selben, his face unreadable, conjures a mount and offers it to me as I’m barely able to stand.  With no pride, I accept his help to mount the beast, and slump heavily over, barely able to hold up my head.

Our procession continues silently, and we eventually break to camp.  I nearly collapse trying to dismount my horse.  Perhegan remains distant and unreadable, making no comments other than brief statements of fact about the trip or our gear, and we split up into watches for the night.  Bonie spends most of the night by my side or helping around camp before she eventually passes out, and I fade in and out of consciousness.  Fortunately, there are no disturbances; my rest is uncomfortable, punctuated by several bouts of hacking where I cough up clotted blood.

We complete the journey under a somber cloud, mostly silent, but we make reasonable time back to Dagger’s Deep where we are greeted by a throng.  “Ran into trouble on the road,” Perhegan explains when my disability becomes apparent, and he leaves with Kallevir to get the wagon unloaded.  Perhegan’s uncharacteristic silence is a worry to me, though in my current state, I’m in no position to have a discussion about it. 

Though a week has passed since our departure, nothing noteworthy has happened in Dagger’s Deep since we left.  Progress on the village’s structures is evident, the masons having been busy at their labor.  Wearily, we retire to our respective tents to contemplate the encounter with Rale and what the implications of his exile might be for our group.

Selben

Standing on the beach, Selben pulls out a handful of items from one of his pouches and lays them in a small pile.  Picking out bits of yellowed finger bones, harvested from some of the dead barbarians that attached Dagger’s Deep, he begins to arrange them into a little family of stick figures, finishing them with other odds and ends—bits of cloth, discarded tangles of hair, and tiny vertebrae he found that may have come from a small fox he found in the woods.

He shapes the bone figures, representing Audric with a tiny bone sword, one for Zargon while quietly humming the Ode to Laerch, then Zeb with a bleached knuckle bone that looks uncannily like his wolf helm. 

Beside them he makes more, one for Bonie next to Zeb, then Lom, then finally one for himself.  Distracted by his work, he jumps to avoid a small wave that washes onto the beach, sent by the passage of an errant river craft.  Selben flashes the boat’s pilot a cold look, but the boat passes without the pilot paying any notice.

When he returns to his bone marionettes, he frowns.  Though he, Bonie and Lom are undisturbed, the wave has ruined the others.  Zeb, Audric and Zargon are in a jumbled mess, missing arms, legs, and Zargon’s head has been displaced, washed away by the receding wave.

Seirsha, passing nearby while about her tasks, stops to examine the young mage.  “Selben?” she asks, having seen the black-robed apprentice jump.  “Everything alright?”  She drops a heavy bundle to the ground at her feet. 

Selben smiles up at at her, unblinking, holding her gaze just beyond the point of comfort.  “All is well,” he says, stirring the bones into the sand with his boot, kicking the last few into the river.  “You look pretty today.  Can I help you carry that?” 

Seirsha stirs uncomfortably, but without waiting for a response, Selben stoops to lift her bundle, giving Seirsha another thin-lipped smile.  As they walk into the village, he resumes humming, his steps in time with the lilting notes of the Ode to Laerch.

Map of the Dessarin Valley

Map of the Dessarin Valley, purchased from a local merchant in the city of Mirabar in the Year of the Raging Flame (1255 DR).

Click to enlarge

Mirabar Run

Over the course of the day and through normal rumormongering at The Rusty Sword, the party becomes aware of a three-masted caravel being constructed by a makeshift shipbuilding company along the north bank of the River Mirar, inside city limits. The endeavor is significant because, in addition to river travel, the vessel is said to be equipped for seafaring, even reinforced to test treacherous waters where seasonal ice floes are abundant.

Hearsay is that, when ready for launch, a bolstered crew will cast off downriver and attempt to press through and beyond the ruins of Illusk, which various orc hordes are known to yet occupy. If successful, the ship’s cargo of furs, armaments, and winter goods will be trafficked to the mining town of Fireshear, north along the coast amid the Frozenfar.

A highly dangerous but potentially highly profitable undertaking, the prospective voyage has been monikered “Mirabar Run”; until recently, it was not believed that the capital to fund such an effort would be achievable, but the combined investments of a conglomerate of local merchants have turned what may once have been little more than a lofty vision much closer to reality.

With the landbound expedition to Icewind Dale nearly stocked and set for imminent departure, tavern-banter has become aglow with talk of Mirabar Run, and the aftereffects that success (or failure) might yield.

#36: A Father Scorned

On the day before our planned departure, a skiff with two men arrives from upstream to the east.  The men were fisherman that had passed through earlier in the week and had moved on past Dagger’s Deep to seek out prime fishing spots upriver.  While fishing at night, with one of the fishermen on watch, they heard a sound like something getting ravaged or torn apart coming from the shore.  Unable to see that far with the light of their small lantern, they rowed slowly away from the disturbance towards the opposite shore.  Not more than 50 yards from the skiff, something splashed into the water and was coming quickly for their boat, so they started rowing frantically downriver.  At least once, they felt something under their boat jarring it, so they rowed in a panic and didn’t stop until they reached Dagger’s Deep. 

Perhegan is concerned over the revelation, but we explain that Dagger’s Deep is no more able to defend itself with him present than not, and that we can’t derail our plans every time there’s a potential threat.  If a town like Dagger’s Deep is to survive, it must weather these kinds of dangers.

The following morning, we set out for Mirabar.  Perhegan has allowed the use of a wagon to cart the scaled hide of the creature we killed beneath Dagger’s Deep and has plans to return with goods for the settlement’s use.  The first leg of our journey is uncontested, and we decide to camp early as opposed to pressing on with no good reason.

As we begin to set up for camp, we hear approaching traffic.  A pair of men on foot are walking next to a cart being pulled by a mule, piled high with hides.  Not feeling threatened, we hail the men and greet them.  The leader of the pair is a tanner, traveling with his brother from Mirabar to Xantharl’s Keep.  They are young, perhaps in their twenties, and don’t appear to be too well off.

“We’re just from Dagger’s Deep on our way to Mirabar, have you heard of it?” I ask the men.  They both nod, saying they’ve heard of “some goings-on up that way”, but nothing beyond that general recognition.  They ply their goods along this route three or four times during the season, typically having little to fear from robbers due to the mundane nature of their haul.  We invite them to share our camp and they accept gratefully, the night passing uneventfully.

When we wake up the next morning, we find Perhegan having a few quiet words with the men, likely trying to steer their trade towards Dagger’s Deep, our tanner having perished in the barbarian attack.  We part ways amicably and continue our trip towards Mirabar.  A few hours before sundown, we arrive at the gates of Mirabar, having made good time.  Perhegan announces our purpose, telling the guards that we are from Dagger’s Deep to buy goods, and they let us pass.

As the first order of business, Audric attempts to find a craftsman who would be willing to work the serpent’s hide.  Before long, we wind up at a stall called “Detrius’ Armory.”  It’s not a grand structure, but it contains a smithy, a large courtyard with several anvils worked by men covered in soot and grease, and a small building with a large hearth and fire.  Before they close shop for the day, we win an audience with Detrius himself.

Audric explains our burden and his intentions for the hide, and Detrius hops onto the wagon to inspect it.  He takes a good look at the hide, feeling several of the dried ends, a rather fetid stench emanating from the wagon.  Detrius takes it in stride, however, and seems impressed with the trophy.

“Is it a dragon’s hide?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. Audric explains that the creature was large and serpentine, but wingless so perhaps not a true dragon.  He listens intently.  “The scales are strong,” he remarks, and while he thinks it would take a fair effort, he believes we have enough material to craft a suit of mail.

As long as we level our expectations, he explains, knowing that much of the hide will be unusable or waste, he thinks he can craft a suit of armor, but that it will take all of the hide we have to find enough quality pieces to work into the armor.  He needs a few days to determine the labor cost and how long it might take.  Audric agrees to a modest fee for Detrius to assess the task, and we leave the hide with the craftsman and his apprentices.

We decide to pursue rooms at The Rusty Sword, as it’s an establishment that Zargon is familiar with, and start to realize how expensive this trip could be if we decide to stay too long.  Rooms are procured without much issue, Zargon trading a few performances to cover his own costs; lodging is scarce due to heavy trade traffic in Mirabar at the moment, but we find a set of rooms that suit our purposes well.  In the morning, we decide to head to the Undercity and meet with Arion to tell him of Corin’s fall.  After some discussion, we decide that as it was Selben’s initiative to seek out Arion and contract Corin’s services, he should be the one to deliver the ill news.

The entrance to the Undercity is familiar, but we can’t help but notice how eerily similar the construction of the dwarven tunnels are to those that lie beneath Dagger’s Deep.  When questioned by the guards at the Undercity entrance, Selben speaks up.

“We have business with Arion,” Selben states, his voice shaking a little.

We are granted passage to board the lift, and we are taken down below into the tunnels which lead eventually towards the Hall of All Fires.  One of the dwarven ushers accompanies us, and along the way, asks us why such a large group of outsiders would have business with one such as Arion.

“Our business is grave, and for Arion alone,” Selben responds flatly, putting an end to the line of questions.  The dwarf grunts, unsatisfied, but troubles us no more.  After several twists and turns, he stops again and states that we will have to leave our weapons if we’re to continue.

Zargon reminds us in a whisper that he can’t relinquish the magical pick, and we decide to split the group, not wanting to press the matter of Zargon’s apparent compulsion, and not wanting to start a riot over keeping weapons.  Selben, Audric and Perhegan decide to go forward while the others stay behind.  The dwarf grunts again, apparently satisfied, and we are allowed access to the Hall of All Fires, our escort remaining behind with the rest of our party.

After Selben, Audric and Perhegan depart, the usher turns towards me and the others.  “So you’re the allies of Thrur Dalgin?” he asks suspiciously.  Having not actually met Thrur, we all look at one another, and it’s actually Lom that answers.  “We’ve made his acquaintance,” and another practiced dwarven grunt is earned in response.

* * *

When we enter the Hall of All Fires, we are once again taken aback by the sheer massiveness of the underground structure.  Yet another dwarf asks our business, and upon providing Arion’s name, he leaves to go fetch him.  Arion arrives a short while later with grease in his beard, apparently having been in the middle of a meal when called.  “Pleased to make your acquaintance again,” he says in greeting.  “Have you returned with Corin Redbeard?”

My response is flat, emotionless.  “Our news is grim.  Corin Redbeard perished in the tunnels beneath Dagger’s Deep.”

Arion’s eyes go wide, the dwarf stuttering as if struggling to force out words, and asks, “How?”

I explain our breach of the tunnel entrance, our brief exploration and of Corin bravely leading our group into the dark tunnels beyond, and finally of our encounter with the serpent.  I tell the tale of Corin’s demise, having been struck down by the creature’s electric discharge.

Arion is taken aback, nearly speechless, and asks what proof we have.  Audric steps forward and produces Corin’s pouch, handing over what was taken from the dwarf’s body.

Arion examines the contents briefly, then turns to a dwarven runner.  “Tell Corenar Redbeard that his son is dead.”  The dwarf nods and leaves quickly back down the tunnel from which we entered the Hall of All Fires.  We wait in silence for whatever comes next.

“Wait here,” Arion instructs.  “You’ll have to answer to his father.”

Audric asks who Corenar might be—besides the obvious—and what standing Corenar might have among the dwarves of the Mirabaran Undercity.  Arion answers, “Will ‘stature’ matter when a father learns of his son’s death?”

I cringe a little at the statement, ruthlessly delivered, and an indeterminable amount of time passes as we wait in silence.  We can’t help but feel the scrutiny of other dwarves passing by who are curious at the activity we’ve stirred up.

* * *

A dwarven runner comes down the tunnel, passing us by quickly, and a short while later another party of dwarves returns, this one led by a particularly staunch dwarf with a brilliant crimson beard and hair, his resemblance to Corin obvious.  While anxious, I decide not to intervene on Selben’s behalf and let them pass unimpeded.

The dwarves are in conference as they march through the tunnel, before the lead dwarf, Corin’s father, cries out in pain and anger.  “My son is dead!  I demand to know who is responsible!”  The runner rapidly tries to explain the situation though we are able to overhear little before Corin’s father roars out, “Thrur Dalgin, blasphemer!  I’ll kill him!”  They rush past us, passions stoked to a frenzy.

While worrying, this kind of reaction was not necessarily unanticipated, so we let them pass, trusting Selben and Audric to handle matters within the Hall of All Fires.

* * *

“Dagger’s Deep bears full responsibility for Corin Redbeard,” Perhegan explains to an irate Corenar Redbeard, sharing details about the tunnel, the expedition, and ultimately his son’s death.

“How did you come to know Thrur Dalgin?” Corenar roars at the end of Perhegan’s explanation, the dwarf’s emotions obviously raw.

Audric steps forward, explaining his connection with Thrur through his faith in Mystra.  In response, Audric catches a face full of spit as Corenar rages, drawing up his axe in anger and pounding the head onto the ground.  “This goes deeper than blood and honor!” he calls out, rushing off with his contingent of dwarves deeper into the hall, presumably towards Thrur’s chamber.

Arion turns towards us gravely.  “I would advise that you leave the Undercity while you can,” he says.  “And that’s the last piece of advice I’ll offer you.”

Selben turns to Audric.  “We have accomplished what we came here to do, we should leave.”  Audric doesn’t seem so sure, hesitating, and I add, “If we don’t leave now, I’m going to get Zeb.”  I don’t know what else to do.

* * *

Selben, Audric and Perhegan return, escorted by Arion, and I breathe a sigh of relief.  While trusting Selben and Audric to handle matters, that hasn’t made waiting any less tense.

Audric explains his intention to remain in the Undercity and try and defuse the situation, feeling responsible for all that has occurred.  While I hate leaving a member of our group alone in such a foreign environment, I can tell from the set of Audric’s jaw that he intends to stay whether I agree with his plan or not.  “We will wait for you above,” I tell him, patting him on the shoulder.  Audric withdraws the ring, the bloodstone and his coin purse, passing it off to me, and we part ways.