Month: February 2019

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Journal of Eadwig – 44th day of Autumn, 59AD

44th of fall

I was certain Death put his hand in mine and said “now”. Not so. It was the hero, Wikton, which kept me in this mortal realm. Religion is not a vibrant part of the town from which I hail, but I have no doubt in his proclamations. I was wrong to despair, for Fortune favors the bold and it has been with me.

Continuing with religion, the knight Sir Grell demonstrated a ritual of the faithful to Tangodoran. The performance was complete with light works like my eyes have never seen. What interaction was between him and the heavens is unknown to me. Perhaps he heard a call for aid as not long after the conclusion of his rites we spotted a column of smoke.

Glorfindel, the elven ranger, led us to a farmhouse beset by goblin raiders. Large and burly goblins, small goblins, and malevolent wolves set themselves against us. In the melee, I was unhorsed and the damned creature bolted. Other than looking a fool, we were able to defeat the goblins and rescue a girl named Amelia. I am saddened to write that the goblins murdered her family.

We stopped in the hamlet of Midwell while continuing to Whiterun and delivered Amelia to her aunt, Krissy. The aunt was not discreet in displaying her displeasure in Wikton and Morgan’s paganism. While this occurred a few days past, I can state now with all certainty that the woman is wrong to doubt their pagan faith. Differences in faith are becoming a reason for irritation amongst those we meet. It is only a matter of time before we come to violence over the matters of the gods.

Leaving Midwell we finally entered a valley and could see the Sithasten mountains. Soon, we came upon Whiterun fort and the camps of the Crossed Sabers and Violet Adders. Chaos surrounds us. Major Takenson brought to our attention the orc to the north, giants to the east, goblins to the south, and a sickness has infected this fort. We journeyed to the source through the tunnels under the fort. It was during this time that I almost came to know death. Words do not exist to describe the thing in the halls. Grell, Morgan and Glorfindel destroyed the chaos spawn. My memory is not right for what else occurred as Morgan mapped the tunnels as I was out of sorts.

I was ready to abandon the quest, whatever it is. Reflection has made me think with caution. While I know safety is not guaranteed, more so now than ever, I am ready to take up my sword and continue.

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Journal of Obroam Gruduvir – 9th Day of Autumn, 59 AD

A few days have passed since our encounter and dealings with the Kobolds. Our company is in Gireford once more, replenishing supplies, receiving healing from the temple, and preparing once more to head back out to the hive of villainy.  While in town we spoke again with the Sheriff, who seemed most interested in out dealings and goings. He informed us in what details he could about the castle atop the hill, saying it was an old fort of the realm that had been used by the orcs in the past as a stronghold.

His concern was noted and we decided that we should reconnoiter the outpost while he sent off to the Marshal for actual troops. I also suggested that we attempt to camouflage ourselves using paints and cloaks that looked like the wildlife around ourselves if we wanted to watch and not be seen. This took a couple of days.

In the mean while, the rest of my companions ate, drank, and told stories of their exploits over the kobolds. I on the other hand, spent time with the priestess Mylla. She had been curious about me, my god, and “pagans” in general. She is a bright young girl, and the search to know more is pleasing in Tangadorins sight, so i indulged her. First I told her of our encounters with the kobolds and how they were cowed by our cleirc and even chittered about the dark ones. Mylla suggested that they were referring to worshipers of that True Darkness that brought the Doom to our world before, i pray she is wrong.

After, I spoke of how Tangadorin found me as a wayward sot, penniless and lazy. My gods edicts and tenets. But in turn she also spoke, about how since the old high priest had passed, she was to be the new high priestess, save that she was not powerful enough in the light for said position and an outside priest was brought in to lead this following. She was eager to learn more, be more, see more. I told her all things are possible within the light, to never give up on her hopes and dreams and one day, she would reach what she sought.

The hour grows late now, and i must rest, for in the morning, we march back to that overgrown hillet. May Tangadorin’s light shine our way to the heart of this matter.