A Puzzling Find

The navigator puzzled for days over the meaning of this document he had his ranger translate. He found it at a ranger hide, hastily abandoned with a few other minor personal effects of elf manufacture, including a whistle that the navigator kept with him for all his days thereafter.

A month into the journey and I’m the lone survivor. There are not words for the rage that has not diminished in the days since the battle. That rage drives me forward to continue the mission to find what doom comes to these fools, and might threaten the vale. I have failed as the mage guard – the mixed men and dwarf unit wisely took him first, then our priest and our translator who made the blunder that set them off in the first place. I’d like to say it was my skill at arms that won the day but I only killed three of them before they got took me down.

I spent weeks languishing in their prison before they were satisfied that we were operating with permission of the King of Keoland and for their mutual benefit. I think they held me longer fearing the embarrassment, but once I survived my wounds they thought it best to release me on my word not to embarrass their idiot captain by reporting their stupidity to the king. I never said I would not take my revenge though, nor did I promise not to report this to the Exalted One.

I reached the Suss with little trouble after that, traveling alone without the mage and his supplies, the priest and his gimpy leg I was able to run most days resting on rainier ones in hides the Uleki ranger’s think are so secret. If they only knew my people showed them where to put them many of their generations ago. I marveled though at the speed at which the parasitic humans and dwarves can change a landscape – so much of the land I could not recognize from previous trips here as a child. Quarries had been cut and forts erected where beautiful groves and orchards once stood, they were places you could hear the music of the wind through the leaves and the birds above while enjoying a day in reverie.

Not today – these filthy mushroom and pig farmers squat in their own muck and filth they’ve even muddied the beautiful Jewel of the Suss, her River. I trek up to the Handmaiden River that feeds the Jewel to see that my spiteful cousins from Celene are holding that line against the human and orc encroachment. How I despise them too for lording their pure blood line over us, tolerating the orc neighbors and men but not even acknowledging their cousins existence in the vale. I spit in the Handmaiden and relieved myself on its banks before moving south. I’m moving slow with caution now having seen evidence of goblin kind, sensing the orcs are stirring and not finding any friendly rangers I expected to assist me. I dare not venture into a village or town again, I was nearly discovered by that sailor near Havenhill, and I don’t want to risk being discovered again.

War Council

24th Planting, Moonday

After the fog cleared from the heather and my mind I returned to find my companions awaiting my arrival. They were ready to discuss a plan of action and I was eager to discuss with them our possible courses. We laid out the facts as we knew them and hypothesized that the forces of the Orcish Empire of the Pomarj were poisoning the Jewel River, and carrying out an assassination campaign against rangers, druids and other protectors of the land who might detect and oppose their plot. We also agreed that the Emissary Grudi sent by the Prince to Prinzfeld and report to Havenhill was compromised. Graf Twembly-likely also compromised if he was still alive.

We would not have to enter Prinzfeld to know this much. To the extent the enemy controlled the territory and had damaged the river was what we did not know. My companions put it to a vote. We decided we advance by the stealthiest route our ranger guide could devise to the Jewel River to learn how advanced the plot was, to destroy the creatures and facilities involved in the river’s destruction and to harass the enemy before proceeding to Prinzfeld to assess activities there.

Our investigation in the Sodorburgh Hamlet would likely produce no significant findings, serving only to check the readiness of the newly organized watch force and to await possible enemy retaliation for the loss of a platoon of their troops. The sun rose high quickly and burned unseasonably warm finally drying the soil which has been an unpleasant slippery mess since we departed Havenhill.

On a personal note, Perry seemed refreshed and unusually focused and quiet. Even Shayla was of improved mood, cracking more than one smile during discussions with Cade about the finer points of sneaking across the low country. The pair may require another day to plot a course using the maps we have that do not show with any precision the enemy's disposition.

A Rare Error

An error in log keeping, uncharacteristic of the navigator, raises questions about his chronology. According to some of his notes, brewfest is fast approaching, which is the fall festival but this volume of his journals begin in planting, or early spring. In this entry he reverts back to a fall date. It is speculated that he was using pseudo-chronology to disguise the timing of events should his logs fall into enemy hands much the same way we know now that Sodorburgh Grove (fictitious name) is in fact the Kaska’s Penn Orchard, currently the site of the Karl Steelborne library and youth gymnasium.

Moonday, 24th Harvester

The morning crept up on me; I awoke to a calm silence refreshed and at peace, a world away from any worldly concerns. I looked out the window to see the land wrapped in a soft blanket of wispy fog. The sky was clear and bright, a soft muted blue that portended the Storm Lords eye upon me, the fog he sent to conceal me from danger. I unpacked my blue cloak as my coat was in shambles and began to carefully transfer my few magic ingredients remaining to my shirt pockets. I fastened the cloak with extra care using the scrimshawed trident cloak pin he made for me, I prayed for his soul in the care of the sea now and gave thanks to the Storm Lord for his blessings and guidance before unpacking my books to study this morning.

I decided to take a short constitutional and find something to eat first. I was becoming aware of the smell of sausages and bread baking. I fastened the captured sword to my waist and cut a line through the fog, to the far end of the farm and there I sat to enjoy my pipe. The smoke mingled with the fog, and the two became one as lovers embraced on the eve of battle.

The fog began to recede and to the north the vision returned.

I stood at the helm, listening to the calls from the bowsprit, 6 fathoms the boys called, then 5 and 4. We limped through the fog badly damaged by a storm the night before. He came up beside me wished me a happy birthday casually and began to scan the horizon with his glass. Three fathoms was sounded and it was time then to stop and weigh anchor the sailing master advised. He would not hear of it. He quipped “Mr. Greely, there are two kinds of sailors I know, those who have run aground and those who have lied” everyone chuckled. He had a way of breaking the tension no matter the circumstances; you could see how he had risen to the rank of captain in Keoland’s Navy so quickly with no family title or land.

The fog suddenly fell away, cut by his wit along with the tension. And then we saw her, there on her side and beached the pirate ship Guillotine and the prize she took the sloop Swallow at anchor. The captain put the men to quarters and the marines formed up on deck dazzling in their full dress blood red uniforms with the Lion rampant in black on their chests. The battle Ensign was run up and the long boats were put over the rail; the captain would lead the assault leaving me in command. His lieutenant balked and was ordered to take command of the second boat load of marines.

I ordered more sail – we had to close before they could see us and prepare to repulse our landing. The captain smiled approvingly of my insanely bold move and ducked into his cabin to retrieve his hat and cutlass. He emerged with a tiny wooden box and pressed it into my hand telling me that he would return shortly to see me open it and not to peak until then. The ship surged forward catching more wind "5 fathoms" came the call – we were over the sandbar – into the natural harbor the pirates used as a hide out. Fortune smiled upon us again. I watched them all board their boats, you never would have know that last night, just a few hours ago they were disabled; green with sea sickness in the hold below praying for death to escape the agony of the storm.

I ordered a turn to launch the first boats in our lee and to bleed off speed, the boat was reported away and I brought her back over on herself. I have never known a ship to respond as she did; the Seraphim had come about almost before I could catch her, she tugged at her reigns and charged headlong as if sensing the battle and thirsting for action. The second boat was away in our lee and the captain and his marines were already making good progress to the beach. I made for the Swallow, meaning to board her with the four marines left me and ships company to take her back.

I watched my captain through my own glass from the quarterdeck leaving the wheel in the hands of Bosun Allen who was a better sailor than I and he deftly brought us alongside the sloop. We grappled her and I led the assault – there was no one aboard her save two pirates drunk on rum. They were taken into custody and I found what remained of the ship’s crew and passengers on the mess decks. The captain’s daughter had survived (it not uncommon for captains to bring family with them occasionally) but was in a terrible state. Her testimony would later doom the pirates to the most gruesome means of execution I have ever witnessed…

“Huuzah!” went the call from my men “the ship is ours!” I cried out only then realizing I had made the boarding without a weapon, holding only my spyglass so I raised it and repeated the cheer while my men raised their swords “Huuzah!” That was the proudest moment of my life.

Back on deck we detailed men to crew Swallow, Bosun Allen would handle Seraphim and I would command Swallow, a ship more to my liking in being a smart, small, compliant vessel. We raised her anchor and made for the channel where we would remain on station awaiting the captain’s return. I searched the beach with my glass to find him.

The marines were making quick work of the pirates. Weeks in pursuit having to endure rough winter seas and squalls that punished them in the hold with no outlet for their frustration had made them animals. They tore through the foe and poured onto the decks of the beached Guillotine. I caught a glimpse of him as he went over the rail – as was his way he went first and I watched him fall. He was caught with a harpoon in the neck and fell back over the rail into his marines. I dropped my glass into the sea and suddenly wept with a shudder.

My captain! My friend. I could not see very well thereafter what had happened but I know the pirates must have fought like cornered animals having heard the marines shouting “the killed the skipper!” and the lieutenant’s orders “TAKE NO MORE PRISONERS LADS” before he too fell to an archer in the crow’s nest I was later told. I could watch no more I ordered a signal to Allen in Seraphim “I assume command, take the beach” and pointed Swallow at the shore meaning to make landing and see if he could be saved.

It would not be. Only a handful of prisoners survived the trip home. I kept the logs as midshipman Redding, noting that I was in command but not taking the title of captain, I was midshipman commanding only. When we returned to the pier at home, it was still winter, cold and lonely.

I resigned my post and bartered with the owners of Swallow for passage home to Dyvers to rejoin my father and never wore a uniform again. Father was disappointed I know but happy to see me alive too. When I returned home I found that little box in my bridge coat and the cloak pin inside with the last known writings of my captain, a private note that I kept in my coat until last night when my own blood ruined it.

I remember this today because it is the first time I can recall waking and wearing a sword since then, curiously the last time I can remember wearing a weapon. I can’t recall where it got to in the afternoon – why it wasn’t on me when I went aboard Swallow... My glass remains there near the sea barons in the bay. There too we buried my captain.

Final Entry, 23rd Planting

Safely ensconced back in the village we are able to find wise counsel and a generous host in one fine dwarf and his family. The Kandress family takes us into their home and the mayor of the town adds much to our investigation. Shayla finally has seen fit to share what she learned prior to my arrival in the area, a good sign that I have won the soldiers respect at the least. Take a moment to reflect on the events of the last two days.

I’ve made some friends, and seen much brutality heading inland which dulls my passion for life and haunts me. I can see why the Storm Lord considers travels such as this a sin and hope he will forgive me as I struggle on not only to honor him and my word to a friend, but to protect a mighty river that feeds the sea. This river’s health is in my estimation vital to the livelihood of the Storm Lord’s sons and daughters on his shining coast.

The friends I have made are of stout heart and strong character, though I suspect now that my friend Cade is a professional burglar (hands too soft and he wears shoes on occasion), I believe him to be more of a kindred spirit that one might suspect. I would be lying to say I did not seriously consider joining the Tempest mutiny and becoming a pirate if only for the freedom of that life. But the senseless brutality, the drunkenness and paranoia…it would dishonor now, the dear brave friends Stoppel and Muncy, Karl and others, to become an outright outlaw. I still marvel at the bravery I’ve seen these past two days. For our losses what has been gained?

We have determined now that there is an attempt by the forces of the Pomarj to befoul the regionally vital Jewel River and the ‘disputed areas’ underlying aquifer. To accomplish this they are utilizing a breed of monster similar if not in fact carrion crawlers. They are apparently also taking livestock, game and perhaps citizens to putrefy and pour into the river.

The village wells here were checked and found safe, but that might not last.

The delegate from Prinzfeld is no longer missing (less the documents be forgeries) but his assessment of the situation casts doubt on his judgment or capacity to speak freely.

It dawns on me now that he might very well have been sacked by the enemy. Captured or coerced into betraying his prince and his kin. Damn it all I have to bring this to my soldier’s attention immediately…

The Battle of Sodorburgh Grove

I tell this tale not for my glory, but as a small testament to the bravery of the fallen. The long lives that these brave dwarves can live, many times the life of men, make their sacrifice all the greater, and so very tragic.

A long days ride, and a few miles short of the Hyle crossroad is a tiny hamlet. We were tired of being driven so hard by our guide and stopped to water our horses which were showing signs of wear as well. We were greeted by a commotion at the festival hall of the little road side village. A dwarven soldier of Ulek had perished after giving his last to carry a message of approaching danger, and to seek help for his companions still embattled only a mile yonder north. Our soldiers mounted up, joined with a brave dwarf named Muncy of Clan Steelborne and charged off to join the battle I feared already lost.

I implored my companions to let me remain with the villagers to organize a defense should the threat avoid them and raid the town. My pleas fell on deaf ears and I was forced to leave my companion Churchill alone as a trip-wire contingency against surprise. Reluctantly I rode with my companions to an uncertain fate.

We quickly arrived at the scene of the battle, a place our guide said was called the Sodorburgh Grove (though I’m not sure why) and our hopes of finding any living allies were quickly dashed. Broken banners, spears, hammers and ax hafts lay strewn about like so much flotsam. There were more than a dozen hollowed corpses of goblin and orc raiders concentrated along a narrow path leading up a short ridge, and a few fallen Uleki mailed foot were mixed in. We rode through the churned blood soaked dust of the roadway and began to hear the battle continuing just off the road. We crested the ridge and saw surviving dwarves completely surrounded and making a last desperate stand, three of them with their backs to each other snarling and daring their attackers who were cautiously circling them. Their attackers numbered ten.

Before I could propose a plan, Muncy had dismounted his pony and charged halfway to the first foe soaring into battle like a red tail diving onto its prey. My companions charged in behind him and our sapper vanished (as he is prone to do) into the underbrush to flank the foe. This left me the unenviable duty of tethering the disagreeable ponies. They had sensed danger in the Steelborne’s blood curdling battle keen and were bucking, I made a quick flying bolen that kept the animals muzzle to muzzle and gave them nowhere to run and moved to the tree line to conceal my movement and make some contribution with my magic.

The enemy proved stubborn, they were clearly an elite element of Turosh Mak’s forces, and so hardened were they that I suspect they may have been a part of his own house guard or rangers. Even after I had incapacitated near half the enemy with a quick spell in broad view of the captains, they kept fighting! They met our charge and held fast. The three surviving Steelborne seized on the confusion caused by appearance and they launched themselves against the enemy anew. The monsters cut down two of the brave dwarves as I moved forward to assist. As I watched an Uleki fall- run through by the enemies gloating sergeant pumping his fists in the air and baying loudly, something overcame my sensibilities, I became enraged and hungered for revenge. I saw my friend, Cade maneuvering in behind the monster who was taunting me it seemed intentionally. I was afraid that Cade would be detected and so I charged the brute hoping to catch his attention. I stumbled as I leapt over the fallen dwarf and as a result I was forced to make an amateurish thrust which was easily parried by the muscled monster who spun and back handed me – pushing me back on my heels.

He detected and parried Cade’s strike too, swiping at him with his sword as I slashed at his arm cutting away a piece between his wrist and elbow. This seemed only to anger him – he turned his focus to me & lunging, slashed at me! I stumbled again, this time I stupidly righted myself in place catching the sword blow with my chest. Only the brass buttons of my coat saved me, my heart stopped, I was blinded by pain and fell to a knee. I don't remember what happened next, but after a moment of ringing and groping Cade was helping me up.

Taking that chance proved a good bet, that plan hatched with no time for fear or introspection worked! Fortune favors the bold indeed.

Cade's sword was lodged in the orc sergeant, so he snatched up another from the ground and motioned with his head and eyes to the orc captain and soldier that were savagely attacking our billet and had sent Muncy to Moradin. Not stopping to check my wound but clutching my weak arm over it I charged behind Cade and we viciously stabbed at the Orc captain giving Perry a chance to withdraw and go to the aid of the last wounded dwarf who had to be pulled away from the fight by our guide.

Shayla then joined us in finishing off the two remaining goblin enemies. All told some thirty five enemy lay at our feet, fully two thirds cut low by less than a dozen brave dwarf footmen of Ulek in a battle that raged most of the day, and over two acres of the Sodorburgh Grove, one I think should be renamed for the Steelborne whose blood will both stain and nourish it forever.

On the Road Again, Sunday 23rd Planting

Though it seemed like an eternity standing there defenseless in the dark, hearing the muffled struggle going on out there between my friends and a an unknown enemy it was only a few moments before we were all reunited and on our way back to camp safely with the prisoners, owing perhaps to a guardian angel that seemed to have joined us that night. It’s invisible hand evident in at least two instances now.

The evening was insufferable; an apparent lack of experience in handling prisoners by the soldier and guide resulted in a needless death. I have found at least one skill developed at sea readily translates to the adventuring life ashore, and I am now in charge of securing prisoners. Only one prisoner survived the night it turns out, owing to a particularly heavy handed method of interrogation employed by the businessman Cade. I should like to know what manner of enterprise he is engaged in so I might take extra precautions before entering negotiations with him or his guild brethren.

I was surprised that my recommendation to leave the last survive be in the hands of the Gods, was heeded. We disarmed him, kept him bound and sent him blindfolded down the highway. He would find his allies and report that this area was not someplace they should tread, or find his way into the nearest village where the locals would not be so kind. It was not up to us.

I prepared Burning Hands this morning, in light of the broken terrain and the distinct possibility of close quarter’s battle but more so at the behest of Church who has expressed an unexpected desire to see that magic in action. I will keep a pinch of sand close as the sleep magic worked better than expected, with a little more practice in actual battle I should have the targeting of that down solid quickly.

The weather is agreeable, a cool breeze today, but the sky is threatening from the east, and there is a good chance of a summer storm blowing through. I hope but have not dared to ask our guide, that there is a place to shelter at the crossroads to Hyle.

How did I get here?

Sit back and let me regale you with a tale of nautical intigue, murder, curses and escapes!

It was early winter when my father asked me if I could use a little extra work before settling in for the season. I laughed saying that I had already greased and packed my instruments, stocked the wine and even found Churchill a companion for the cold nights. He laughed and asked me what I had in mind to keep myself company?

Before I could answer he handed me a letter from the (navigator’s) guild assigning me to the brig Tempest. I’d seen her before; she was an elegant, fast vessel with good accommodations for her size and I was intrigued by the chance to go aboard her. The charter was only passengers and the guild had negotiated an enormous fee for my services which should have told me there was something more to this than a simple last run ahead of the winter storms.

The letter instructed me to report in two days, leaving me little time to make arrangements for my things while I was away or prepare my instruments. Father said he’d see to my things and said that the ship had its own tools aboard; its navigator had passed away with no heir so I could use them. Not knowing the man or the condition of his tools I prepared my own equipment anyway. In hindsight that was a terrible idea.

When I arrived at the vessel, the sailing master told me that I was late and threatened to cancel my contract in favor of another sailor, a fellow I knew to be less than a gentleman, and even less of a sailor. I turned to leave wishing them well on their way to the bottom. Then the captain appeared. He was a classic martinet, a former military sailor who was used to flogging and keelhauling unruly crewmen. He ordered me to stand fast and one of his crew blocked the gangway. He calmed himself and invited me to his cabin and offered twenty crowns apologizing for his mate’s demeanor.

He told me of the charter and handed me the chart, it was bloodied, holed and had been singed. It was old, fragile and showed an alien sea full of tiny islands marked in ancient dialects and more recent translations sloppily added to it. He told me that his passengers were professional explorers, nobles of great influence and power from a northern country, Veluna I believe. They were seeking a discarded and forgotten treasure lost during the great migration – washed ashore in the South Seas. He swore me to secrecy and I promised to keep the map secret and safe in my quarters.

I had heard many stories, ghost ships, phantoms and sea monsters and thought there had to be some truth to at least some of them. I weighed that against the potential rewards…I foolishly perhaps, agreed to sail. It would be twenty seven days to the first landfall. The hold was fitted out with enough provisions for many times that duration and extra room had been allotted to the crew and passengers; that promised to make the trip a relatively pleasant one. According to the plan, we would be home near the end of winter, and enjoy tropical temperatures most of the time. Once we cleared the 25th latitude and its famous storms.

I inspected my quarters and settled in. the previous navigators tools were badly damaged which unnerved me a bit. I then inspected the ship, from her ballast on up. She had been recently refitted and was in superb condition, this put me at ease again. Churchill settled in, ah he’s my longtime companion there in the window, and the next morning we set sail. I met one of the noble passengers who were traveling under pseudonyms. I knew him to be a wizard named Imrahil, I had met him at an event in Bar Harbor once. He was a student wizard as I was; only he was much more advanced. We talked at length about the map which was his apparently but he did not seem to remember me.

We hit a terrible storm at the 25th and it sickened even the saltiest of the crew, confining all but myself, the sailing master and Imrahil to quarters. When we got through the storm we came upon a smaller vessel that had not been so lucky. It had been badly damaged and it was drifting lifelessly. We sent out a lifeboat and three men to investigate her. She was in bad shape and sinking it turns out. The three men who went aboard her returned after an hour with as much of her remaining valuables as they could carry.

The crew vociferously lobbied the captain to take her in tow as a prize for the salvage reward, a share of which is easily two years salary for any sailor, but he refused saying that he could not tow it, or spare crew to operate her and Tempest back across the line into safe harbor. Nor could he assure he could save her from sinking even with every hand put to it.

We sailed away and watched her go down. I can’t remember her name now, but her image haunts me sinking over the horizon. I wonder now if she was abandoned or if our men found the crew injured or incapacitated and robbed them.

Well soon enough we had more misfortune, a passenger had gone over in the night. I was on watch then and was alert as always. I have no recollection of how it happened but I.

Days later the captain had decided to put the crew to work to quell rumors of a curse. He pushed them so hard that they finally mutinied. They threw him over board, murdered the 1st mate and sailing master, letting only myself and the quartermaster, a fellow named Gaston live. They killed two of the passengers who were on deck at the time and resisted then roused the two others sleeping below and locked them in the hold.

I resorted to a spell to save me and the other navigator, I convinced the leader of the uprising the carpenter William Bramble to let us live, and he agreed to do so if I could best him in a favorite game of chance, a friendly wager he said. Ordinarily there are only two sides in a mutiny, thanks to the charm person spell, I had found another. And knowing full well how to cheat at cards, I did so to the best of my ability I even won a second hand where I wagered for the longboat to take me towards home.

I offered to play for the prisoners and Gaston’s release but the pirates laughed saying that those passengers were worth more than the ship! Gaston chastised me for abandoning the passengers to the pirates and I assured him he was the fool for worrying about them that he should come with me, the passengers were more than just wealthy explorers…Gaston, a brave and honorable man would not hear of it.

As I sailed in the tiny long boat, almost certainly to my death, I watched a fire erupt aboard the brig. It seemed that the young wizard was beginning his escape. I could not catch the brig to help or learn more owing to the wind…

A few days later I made landfall south of here on the eastern side of the peninsula away from Gyrax. I sold the launch for a pittance and ventured inland with Churchill to contemplate my next adventure happy to have missed the worst of the winter at sea. I’ve been here ever since.