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.

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. 

Journal of Obroam Gruduvir (Au 4, 59AD)

4th Day of Autumn, 59 Ad

Our group traveled into the wilderness to find the lair of the loathsome kobolds. In our search, we tracked their trails to a collapsed tower covered in overgrowth, scattered coins leading us to a dug out cellar to the ancient structure. We ventured into the dark to find our quarry, and were not disappointed. The lair was a series of tunnels with cracks in them, through which the vermin attacked. Tossing bottles of flaming oil at us, their attacks were in vain as our mettle stood strong.

After regrouping in their kitchen for lack of better words, we did battle once more, with Golani slaying three of them, but this time Corvin cowed them into retreating by bearing that symbol of his god aloft. After searching a bit more, our group decided that there was more to be gained from tricking the creatures into speaking to us than slaying them all, and so they were right. With Pickles acting as a translator, we spoke with the Kobold leader and learned that these were merely a labor force for Orcs and “Dark Ones” in the castle beyond the hill, and they they were only attacking the caravans because the orcs were leaving them with little to no food.

After a bit of discussion, we struck a deal, we “deal with” the orcs and they stop attacking the Caravans. While I didn’t like dealing with these creatures, they are but a symptom. The cause lies in the castle, and i shall bring Tangadorin’s Light to these “Dark Ones”.

Feeling the Goddess’s Pain – A tale told over the forge

It was around the time that we spent the night at the ‘Lit Lantern’, the 37th of Autumn I think, when the dreams started to get really bad. Heath was having them, too – not a great introduction to the faith for a young acolyte! The image of the goddess – pale, sickly, and slumped over an anvil covered in purple and green goo was too much to bear, and led to sleepless nights, and I’d wake up in a cold sweat.

What was especially strange was the timing of the dreams. We’d just spent days in our last stop constructing a shrine to Artura, the centerpiece of which was constructed of gold – liquefied, purified, and blessed and reforged to transform it from the monstrosity of a statue it had been into a holy symbol of all that is good – and we had adorned it with the most precious jewel that we had, a very large star rose quartz gem. I’d even given up a very finely made smithing hammer to the blacksmith who’d allowed us to upgrade his forge to a shrine – it would serve as both now – and who appeared to be a new follower of Artura. All of this would be a great boon to the goddess, we thought… and so those awful dreams came as a shock.

It was only a day or two later of travelling east when our party heard the sounds of fighting coming from the woods to our right. We headed that way, and come to find out there was a mysterious group that had a hidden tower in there, and it was under attack by orcs. By this time the dreams had grown worse and Heath and I were getting terrible headaches during the day, but we were able to do our part and help the rest of the party drive the orcs off, although Beth sadly lost her canine companion in the fight. We talked to their leader, Jon, and learned that the orcs had been staging attacks from their encampment across the river to the north. An encampment, he said, that had once been a temple for the worship of Old Gods. I was tempted to take the fight up north then and there, but the orcs’ numbers seemed to be insurmountable, and Borean was following a lead that was leading him towards possible mountain tribe allies, so we moved on.

We came to the town of Saludra, which was holding a jousting tourney, the prize for which was an enchanted blade made from a metal with outstanding properties that was being mined near there. Grel and Morgan entered the tourney, and Borean gambled heavily on it, but Heath and I of course cared little about these things and tried to gather more information from the townsfolk. We found out that there indeed was a temple to Artura right where those orcs were gathered, across the river not far from Crennex Falls. Together with the marks on the orcs that were signs of the Dark Ones’ taint, we knew that it was that evil that was causing the horrible dreams and the pain to the goddess. But what to do? Artura is pragmatic, and would want us to return with a force capable of defeating the orcs and cleansing the temple, but the wait to gather allies was maddening. We swore in our dreams and prayers to Artura that we would return to her temple in force and set her free.

Further east we went, and I was happy to learn that the time they’d spent on the tourney had not been a waste, as Grel (with Borean’s help) had gotten the enchanted blade from the winner. The pain of the headaches was becoming less, which confirmed that it was the corrupted lost temple that was the source of our pain and the goddess’s. It was soon after that we had a very strange night – the dead seemed to rise to do battle near the village we were staying, and Borean took on aspects of the wolf to go join them! We managed to get Borean safely away from the ghosts, but this was a new problem we knew we’d have to contend with.

So with Borean now clearly suffering from the effects of a curse, the fact that we hadn’t found any of his potential allies and our travels taking us further away from the temple, things were looking pretty grim. Two things gave me hope, however. First, we were able to make contact with a group of mercenaries known as the Crossed Sabers, whose commander, Houe Gordan, laid out the rates for a much-needed boost to our numbers we’d need if we were to take on those orcs. Secondly, and most importantly, the warrior Morgan had come to me and said, “Wikton, I want to learn the ways of Artura.”

I was overjoyed. I knew that from at least since the time of the Doom that Priests of Artura had only been wandering priests, spreading the word as they travelled from town to town and at times taking on an acolyte, as my mentor Yereso had done with me. But always only one. Was this a sign that the goddess’s religion was destined to grow, to have a full priesthood as in the stories of days long past? Or perhaps Morgan was destined to become a Champion of Artura, just as Grel was a Tangadorin’s champion? Only time would tell…

Letter to Jorann

Jorann,

If only you could have been here, oh what fun I have had.

We were on our way to Saluda, where we had heard that there could be some of this mysterious metal for sale. I had hopes of purchasing a sword or maybe even a dagger so that I could reveal this unknown lore back in Enonia. Perhaps I could gift the dagger to the Marshal so that many would see it and know of its existence.

We received word that there was a group of barbarians about 10 days ahead of us. We hoped to catch them so that Borean could learn the whereabouts of his people. We also heard that there was to be a Tourney near Saluda. I was quite eager to participate, but we didn’t want to lose the barbarians. We stopped for the evening at the gathering for the Tourney, and we saw the grand prize. It was a sword made of this mysterious metal! But more than that, I could feel that the blade was Magic!!!

I so wanted that blade, I can’t tell you how disappointed I was that we had to leave it behind. But even Borean recognized that this could be important and he agreed that I could try my luck.  I had ever Jousted in a tourney, so I was a bit nervous, but we soon found out that the tourney was only open to the nobles and knights. Again I was disappointed.

But Borean came to the rescue, he proclaimed me a knight, Sir Grel of the Wolf Clan. As he is acknowledged as a King, I was allowed to participate.

I made a fairly good showing for myself, and for Tangadorin. I made it to the final eight, but I was felled by an excellent hit. The winner was a member of a mercenary group called the crossed sabers. Borean had been betting on the outcomes of the matches, and had made a huge profit.

We met with the winner that evening, and Borean offered him all the profits, plus a bit more for the sword. He agreed, more from Borean’s promise that it would be used to fight the Orcs I Think.

Borean gave me the Sword! With it I am sure that I will be able to spread the word and fame of Tangadorin even better than I have in the past.

Journal of Obroam Gruduvir (Au 1 – 2, 59AD)

1st day of Autumn, 59 AD

It is evening now, our party has continued on our way to Gireford in hopes of receiving further treatment for our wounds. As the others busy themselves with camp for, I reflect on the happenings of the day. Shortly after the craven ambush set by those vilesome kobolds, a stranger happened by. A tall woman with an ax going by the name Golani, she seemed interested in our groups predicament and offered to travel with us to town. Whether her concern was genuine, or possibly the meager loot off the kobolds was what caught her eye, I do not know. Time and Tangadorin’s light shall reveal what I need to know. I shall away to sleep now, the campfire grows cold. 

2nd Day of Autumn, 59A AD

Our travel to the village of Gireford was uneventful, praise be to Tangadorin’s Light. Upon our arrival our group split up to see to their own needs. The traders York and Terry offered to use their goodwill in the town to garner us healing at the local chapel of the Church of the Light, but they first had to set about off loading their goods. In the mean while I went to see the local blacksmith about cleaning and sharpening my blade as my whetstone only does so much good in the field. Brandis the smith was a larger man, busy with his work, his wife Nadine saw to my blades cleaning and did splendid work. After some small talk, they were surprised at our groups entry into the town. Apparently we are the only people to come by in two tendays. I told the couple of our travels and the ambush, this seemed to worry them. They suggested i speak with their Sheriff, Strak as hes is know by, about the attacks and the fact that those miserable Kobolds had ORC Weapons! Now it makes sense how the little buggers were able to harm me. 

After my time at the smithy, I went to meet up with York, Terry, and Fascul at the temple. A decent building given the towns small size. Inside we were introduced to Priestess Mylla, a soft spoken young woman. After she used her blessings upon Fascul and myself, I thanked her and used the powers of my of God to finish healing what little damage remained. This seemed to surprise the young lady as she looked at me in wide eyed wonder and called ma a pagan. I took no offence as such statements are correct according to their doctrine. She seemed eager to learn more about me and my god, a joyous thing indeed, but that shall have to wait as a darkness has stretched its arm across the land, and has gripped the local countryside with fear. Fascul seems as eager as I to track down the Kobolds and deal with the vermin ones and for all, I am liking him more and more.


To my surprise, Golani and Pickles were both at the Sheriffs office, also seeking to inform them about the attack. Stark seemed interested and concerned about the ambush and the orcish weapons we found on the corpses. We spoke on the lack of traders, towns folk or any other travelers short of us, all the more worrying. He told us he needed to send word to the Duke right away, but that we were free to investigate as we see fit. After regrouping in a local tavern, all of my fellows seem eager to track down the Kobolds. Whether its for potential profit, revenge, or to do whats right, each seems motivated. The lady Golani wants to gain glory and renown, a noble venture if used to bring light into the world and cast out the darkness. I think she will prove as stalwart a companion as Fascul. A final note before I offer my final prayers of the day. That vagrant Mort….I cannot get a clear read off of him. IN addition to the fact that he can somehow talk to animals…..or at least claims to be able to do so. He seems to lack any decorum, schooling, training, the ability to speak clearly, or basic hygiene….and yet……and yet there is something about him…..I cannot place it. I shall continue to keep an eye on him.

Travel Journal of Eadwig (Au 37 – 41, 59AD)

37th of fall

               The fog and mist brings worry of bandits. I have joined company with the heroes on the road to White Run Fort. They pursue band of barbarians of which one of the present company, Borain, claims to be a king. Fortune is with me if the claim proves true. Stopped at the hamlet of Bogdale and spoke with locals in the Worthless Cat, the tavern. The barbarians passed through on their search for the wolf and bear. Heard rumor of a tournament hosted by Lord Nucid. Once I have gained the funds I will purchase a horse and lance and participate in such affairs. The locals also mentioned that a mercanry company by the name The Crossed Sabres is but a few days journey from the hamlet: about 3-4 days between Salude and White Run Fort.

38th of fall

               The morning passes with the hero Beth training a dog. The stories told of their deeds painted different pictures in my mind now that I sit and watch them.

We depart the hamlet. A battle identified south of the road on which we travelled found us exploring a small wooded environ. Within the woods, orc were identified laying siege to a tower. The heroes arrayed into two groups, one for each of the orc units, of which I joined the left alongside Borain. We joined the battle and decisively destroyed the enemy.

               Among the allies, all bore wounds from the orc. The only death was a dog. Fortune truly favors the bold as we were each gifted 10 royals. I have never set eyes on orc until this day, but those in present company state that these orc are disfigured.

               The tower defenders were lead by a man named John. All were dressed and armed well. They were a company of merchants and explorers. Their proximity to the river made this reasonable.

Continued east and came upon the tourney.

39th of fall

               The tournament was a spectacle. The king of the heroes accepted another hero named Grell as a retainer. The king the sponsored Grell as a knight who went on to win several rounds of the joust. With such capable knights how can the heroes be stopped? By tourneys end, Lord Collins of the Crossed Sabers emerged the champion and was granted a fine blade. The king then purchased the sword for his champion, Grell. I have never witnessed such largesse.

40th of fall

               We leave the tourney in a misty morning. By late morning, we ride around the crater city of Seluda and continue our journey travelling northeast. The woman, Beth, buried her dog that was slain by the orc at the tower.

               Later we arrived at the hamlet Hillgreen and stayed at a wayfarer’s inn. The locals speak of a battle with orc in the early part of summer. Something strange lingers as the battle is heard at night, and mine own hears heard it. The king of the heroes took ill and bolted from the inn as we slept. We all gave chase and found him battling the spirits of the past. I stood dumbfounded as the king was netted by Morgan. Secured, we left the haunted battle-field and returned to Hillgreen

41st of fall

               Dawn arrives and we awake outside of Hillgreen. By evening, we are five days from the mountains and arrive at the Fort of the Crossed Sabers. Their commander, Hal Gordon, was welcoming.  He confirmed that Borains people travelled through the fort but a couple of days ahead of us. One of the travelers was ill, but a cleric was able to cleanse the ailment.

My eyes were still in shock from the ghosts of Hillgreen as Grell rode his horse into the sky and flew away. Such a feat was unexpected and I remain amazed as I write this.

Journal of Obroam Gruduvir (Su 54 – Au 1, 59AD)

54th day of Summer, 59 AD

I travel towards a small village, Gireford. Two merchants, Terry and York, have collected and odd assortment of travelers and myself for protection on the road. The merchants seem amiable enough, though me fellow travelers are perhaps a little odd. Firstly there is Mort, a filthy and destitute looking individual who seems to care more for animals than his fellow man, he is to be watched. Next is Fascul, skilled with both bow and blade, i find him the most relatable as his martial training is something we have in common. Corvin is a priest of some god ive not heard of, Yorkai, and speaks of this “White Door” and the sanctity of death. While not a servant of Tangadorin, Bringer of Light, he has been of aid in healing wounds and giving insight. Perhaps our different religions will not cause strife. Karl travels light, but that is typical of elves, his skill with a bow should come in handy, assuming he can keep his arrogance in check. Lastly is Pickles the Littleling, odd name, but he seems harmless enough. His usefulness has yet to be seen. 

1st day of Autumn, 59 AD

We were attacked on the road by loathsome cowardly Kobold’s! Firing upon our caravan from the trees, they slew one horse outright  and continued their attacks as we approached. Pickles hid behind the felled horse while Fascul, Karl and I approached the trees to do battle with the vermin. Mort, the vagrant, spent his time making sure the horses were safe. Terry the merchant fled while, surprisingly, York came to aid our attack, i commended his bravery given his occupation. While many of use were wounded, including myself. Though only due to surprise and numbers did they harm my person, we were able to fend them off, slaying the majority of them. Using my gods grace, I tended to my wounds while Corvin healed Karl. We are regrouping now and well continue on to Gireford shortly, the loss of one horse and personal injuries might slow us down a bit though. 

Ambush of the Caravan! (Autumn 1, 59AD)

by Karlonai

Since the day my parents kicked me out of the tree and told me to go find my fortune, life has been pretty boring, I’ll tell you. I didn’t want to start picking pockets in that big human city. What if I got caught? A life sentence in some stone prison can be pretty grim for an elf, and you’d better believe it. Didn’t want to report in to the Thieves’ Guild, either; they can be even more nasty, at least in the short term.

The most interesting thing that happened to me was meeting up with a bunch of strangers, mostly humans. There was a smelly guy dressed in skins and carrying a stick and calling himself a great warrior and a lover of nature. What do humans know of nature? Another was some dude hiding inside armour and being self-righteously smug about his religion. There was another fighter-type called Fascul Jott in all his polished protection. He was a little more interesting, not so much of a prig. Then there was Corvin, Mr. Religion himself. Touting some artificial god and trying to convert me all the time. Maybe some day he’ll see the light. Lastly there was another elf who calls himself Pickles. Not a real elf name, is it? He says he’s a thief, and he’s serious about it. Well, at least I can talk to him.

The bunch of us ended up doing escort duty for a “caravan.” Not much of a caravan either. Two merchants, York and Terry, and four pack horses. We’re not even getting paid; we “just happen to be going their way.” They told us that merchants attract bandits, and we can have whatever loot the bandits have on their persons, once we dispatch them. I can’t wait. (Yawn!) What loot do you get from bandits that haven’t been successful yet?

So we were almost at our destination and nothing had happened. Just walking and talking. Dull to the eyebrows. Then one of the horses gets himself shot and we’re being peppered by some little dog-men with crude bows. One of them shot me, and that hurt! Not really happy-making. So I shot him back and did him a treat. I shot another couple out of the trees while the big iron-clads set to stomping the rest of them. Even York, the merchant, got involved. I swear I heard the clink of chain-mail from him, that sound when it’s belted up at the waist. Presumably he’s wearing it under his robes.

The rest of the little dog-men just ran off. Piff! I was just starting to enjoy myself, and it was all over.

Letter to Jorann

Jorann, time is short and much is happening, so I will be brief.

A great battle has been won. We found a town that had been controlled by the orcs. Apparently they had kidnapped the whole town’s women and children, and were forcing them to help the orcs with their raids. We uncovered their duplicity and promised to help them free their people.  We crossed back into Irecia while the townsfolk prepared to follow.

We attacked some scouts, but one got away and warned them we were coming. They were prepared and quite numerous. Things looked bleak, but just in the nick of time, the townsfolk caught up with us, and with the reinforcements we defeated the orcs and freed the townsfolk. Much plunder was taken. We took some gold to pay for our expenses and vowed to turn the rest over to the Marshal.

A glorious battle! I will report again soon.

May Tangadorin’s light shine upon you always,

Your servant in His Light,

Grel