Session 17. - The Search For The Sword Begins
General Summary
1st of Icegrip, 1440 A.P.
Oorr woke from his slumber with a start. He had a splitting headache and felt as if someone had driven a molten knife through his skull. In the predawn light creeping through the church window, he cautiously checked just to be certain no one had actually inserted said knife while he slept.
Thankfully he found nothing, but the stabbing pain remained and, as he continued to wake up, slowly blossomed into a throbbing headache. Through the pain, he half remembered a dream about a hand (or claw?) reaching out of the darkness towards (him?)... (something?).... it didn't make sense. Was it his hand? Was someone or something trying to save him? Make friends with him? What were they reaching for? He needed more answers and he wouldn't find them in his room.
He stepped into the hall and went looking for one of the priests. Even this early in the morning, he found one of the Rayahn brothers with very little difficulty. He asked to see his sword and was told it was with the Arch-deacon. He then asked to speak to the Arch-deacon but was informed that his eminence was resting after a long evening spent trying to purge the curse from Oorr's sword and he had given instructions to gather Oorr and his companions in the morning as he would like to speak with them.
Oorr's impatience was barely contained and he tried to follow the priest to the Arch-deacon's quarters anyways but was politely rebuffed. Even after dazzling him with an obtuse amount of "Oorr logic", the priest still remained steadfast and so Oorr grudgingly went looking for his friends.
He was quite proud of himself for not getting lost en-route to the inn... this time. When he arrived, the sun had risen and the common room was bustling with early morning activity. He found the others entrenched in an early morning campaign to decimate the local bacon supply. Angrar and Suljurn were clearly winning, but Urith refused to concede and so the battle continued, much to the serving girl's consternation. Deadeye spotted Oorr as he entered and waved him over to join them.
Once he was engaged in his own sortie again the rampaging bacon hordes, he let the others know, between mouthfuls, that the Arch-deacon had requested their presence. They all wondered what news he would have for them and since Oorr couldn't answer any of the questions they had, Arbor suggested they hurry up and finish so as they could get those answers.
Back at the church, they were quickly ushered into a hallway that led away from the main church and also away from the dormitories where Oorr had spent the evening as well as where they'd spoken with the Arch-deacon previously They were eventually led into a well appointed office. Apparently this was to be a much more formal and official meeting than they'd originally thought. A sliver of worry slipped into Angrar's mind as they waited.
Before they had time to really look around the room, another door opened and in strode the Arch-deacon, Argus Fotheringham. Gone was the pale shadow of a man that they’d seen the night before. Instead they were greeted by a large bear of a man, years of hard campaigning for Rayah showing on his face and muscles. The only evidence he had been knocking on The lady most kind's door the night previous was a slight greyness around his eyes. His stern gaze took them in silently and they all shuffled their feet uncomfortably. Angrar's worry didn't lessen one whit.
He sat behind a large desk and the movement broke whatever tension was in the room. He was all business and thanked them again for his rescue. He informed them of his success at ridding the sword of its curse, and told them it was extremely difficult and that it was like there was something evil clinging to the blade. Oorr interrupted and asked if it was him in his dream which seemed to confuse the Arch-deacon. He returned the blade which mollified Oorr. The Arch-deacon then addressed the others seriously. he told them he was disappointed in them, they had told him the night previous that they had rescued, or accounted for, all seven of the missing acolytes but had only saved six. The Arch-deacon went on to say that the Brethren had mounted an expedition into the crypt to ensure it was secure and had found the remains of the last acolyte, shredded as if by some wild animal. Arbor and Angrar apologised, blaming their hectic retreat and the urgency of saving his holiness as their error.
The Arch-deacon seemed to be mollified and accepted the apology as genuine. After a moment he continued and informed them that they had discovered two more of the thieves barricaded in the crypt and out of their minds with fear. They had been handed over to the city watch and were to be tried and likely executed at the end of the week. He also said that the Brethren had found a pack of ghouls in the eastern part of the crypts and after some fierce fighting, had managed to collapse the tunnels. When Arbor inquired if the church wanted them to deal with the ghouls, the Arch-deacon informed them that they'd have to speak to the city watch regarding that and that his (and their) priority was returning the Sword of The Grave.
Arbor asked if the offer of horses was still available and was told that it was. After confirming the stable's location, and realising they had no other questions, the group took their leave of the Arch-deacon, but not before Oorr solemnly vowed to return the Church's Artifact, or die trying.
Once on the steps, the group quickly reconnoitred and decided on their next moves. Urith was keen on visiting the city watch and seeing about questioning the thieves as to the whereabouts of their compatriots. Deadeye mentioned wanting more arrows and before a quick shopping excursion could be planned, Urith offered up one of his many quivers to the kenku. They idly discussed speaking to the watch regarding the ghouls, but everyone was feeling a sense of urgency as they felt that whomever had the sword already had a two day lead on them.
Urith still wanted to question the thieves and Oorr was eager to flex his skills at talking with the Guards (he was THAT type of Rogue) until Angrar reminded him that these were likely just local talent hired by the real thieves and probably wouldn't know anything. Urith argued that they could at least question them and find out a basic direction where they went, until the others reminded him that the guards had already told them they'd chased the thieves out of town to the south already. Finally letting go of the bone in his teeth, Urith agreed with the others and they headed off to the stables.
Arbor spoke to the stablemaster and showed him the letter of marque from the Arch-deacon. Then, between himself and Angrar, secured saddles, bridles and tack for a minimal fee above what the church's letter provided for. As none of them were particularly familiar with horses and they weren't sure how long they'd be searching for, they erred well on the side of caution and bought almost a week's worth of feed. When the stable hands started hauling out the feed, they were marginally shocked at the size of it all. They all glanced at Angrar hopefully but even he was certain he couldn't carry half of it, let alone all of it.
Oorr argued that they could just let the horses graze wild, but the others didn't want to. Arbor then took the stablemaster aside and started speaking quickly. The others couldn't quite hear what was said, though Angrar swore he heard the word "Boc'Tah" at one point, (which he was certain was Elven for a con game or swindle, or was it a medicinal herb?). When the conversation ended, Arbor had swung a deal for himself that ended up being a solution for everyone. He had traded his riding horse in for a solid draft horse and wagon for a marginal fee and while Oorr fumed at the ridiculousness of goblins and the inconvenience of having to drag a wagon wherever they went now, Angrar and Suljurn simply tucked in and quickly loaded the feed (and their gear) into the wagon.
With the gear loaded, they headed out of Aran Dhabar along the southern road towards Graelin's Cross, ever hopeful that they'd catch sight of the thieves just ahead and would be home in time for lunch.
Unfortunately, lunch came and went and the road went ever on. The road itself was well-maintained and made of an ingenious white stone that crunched as the wagon wheels rode on it. Oorr was shocked that the road was paved, but Suljurn, in an unexpected bout of verbosity, reminded him that this was once the Dhabaran Province. Even after being gone for well over a millennia, the Meradassian Empire's effects could still be felt in the world.
They quietly mulled over the old lizard's words as they continued to travel through farmlands. They saw only a few carts and goods laden wagons, all heading north to the capital. Despite it being the first of the year, they saw many fields already ripe with crops of grains and greenery. Urith mentioned that if they were still in the north, they'd have likely been huddled in a meadhall somewhere waiting for the wind to stop howling and the snow to stop blowing. They all reminisced and were amazed at how far they'd travelled. They quickly grew maudlin and quiet though as their thoughts all turned as one to the frozen villagers they'd unfortunately abandoned.
About mid-morning, the quilted farmlands slipped away and were quickly replaced by wild grasslands and rolling hills. The carts and wagons they'd seen heading into the city also dwindled to nothing and soon they were the only ones on the road. Just past mid-day they guessed they'd come to the point that the City Watch had lost the trail. They also discovered why they'd seen no other wagons. Across the road ahead of them was the remains of a wagon on its side. A quick search of the area showed a blood trail leading deeper into the hills. After a quick search of the wreckage, they discovered very little else beyond the obvious lack of bodies and the blood trail.
Oorr was convinced that this was the work of the thieves and was ready to follow the trail into the hills. The others were a little more circumspect and an argument quickly broke out as to how they would get their wagon up the trail or what they'd do with the horses. Arbor was content to stay with the wagon while the others went off to investigate, which infuriated Oorr to no end. Eventually they agreed to move the wagon a ways off the road while Deadeye and Urith scouted the path. Oorr was definitely overheard muttering "Damn thee goblin!" under his breath as they shifted the wagon out of sight.
The two rangers set off down the trail, easily following the copious amounts of blood and the heavyset tracks. After some time, they came to a hollow in one of the hills, that opened up into a sizeable cave. Guttural voices could be heard inside but neither one of them understood what was being said. After a quick discussion, Urith doubled back down the trail to collect the others while Deadeye kept an eye on the cave.
Once the party reunited, Deadeye gave them a brief rundown of the cave, describing two larger humanoids, bigger (and uglier) than Angrar, roasting a haunch of meat over an open fire. He'd gotten bored waiting and had scouted inside while Urith was collecting them. Deadeye summoned his drake and they devised a quick plan using the drake to lure them out of the cave where the others could ambush them.
Deadeye sent his drake in, but misjudged the distance and the creature faltered at the edge of the ranger's control. Luckily it was still near enough for the Oghrym to notice it and they stupidly came charging after it, running headlong into the killzone the group had set up.
Urith got off a powerful shot as the Oghrym paired off against Suljurn and Angrar respectively. Deadeye scampered back to a similar distance while Oorr danced between the two, stabbing wherever he could. Arbor had hung back and let loose with his spells.
Urith was lining up for his second shot, but never got a chance to take it, as a crashing sound from behind him distracted him. Turning, he saw a larger oghrym with a massive chain wrapped around its torso, charge out of the trees to assist its friends. The brute with the chain paused briefly, glancing between Deadeye and Urith before moving to Urith and bringing the massive chain down on the startled ranger.
Urith was unable to dodge out of the way and the full force of the chain stunned him and took him out of the fight. The others, seeing one of their group fall so easily, shifted to the defensive and worried they might not get out of this alive.
Thankfully, Suljurn and Angrar were both raining significant blows on their respective foes while the oghrym in turn had a hard time landing a hit on either the paladin or the fighter. While the smaller Oghrym were engaged, the brute moved up to Oorr and swung his chain widely, knocking the nimble faun to the ground.
Arbor tried to harness the power within him but his spell misfired and he screamed painfully as branches and leaves sprouted from his skin, changing him into a small, goblin shaped tree. Eventually, the two smaller oghyrm fell and Angrar and Suljurn moved to engage the brute. A few of Deadeye's arrows feathered its hide as the two warriors approached. Thankfully, the brute could only swing his chain wildly to knock his foes down and never regained the grip needed to smash them like he'd smashed Urith.
Eventually, the brute fell and shortly thereafter Urith regained his senses. Thankfully Arbor returned to his goblin form around the same time. After a quick search of the cave, they recovered a small sack of coins and several crates of potatoes and cabbages. They hauled them back to the wagon and added them to the stockpile.
With the day moving on, and the sense of urgency pressing on them, they debated making camp in the oghrym cave before deciding to press on to Graelin's Cross. They travelled well past dusk, tiring themselves and their mounts. Thankfully they came to Graelin's Cross before one of them fell asleep in their saddle.
They stepped in to the common room of the inn, and were greeted with music and song. On the half-raised stage at the back of the inn, was a tall, lithe, saurial female with striking blue and white scales. She was playing a half-harp and singing in a strong, vibrant voice that sent shivers down everyone's spines. The audience of about twenty patrons were just as enthralled with the song as the party was.
Oorr was so enthralled (or tired) that he impulsively started singing a galdani folk song as counterpoint to the bard. Sadly, his enthusiasm far outstripped his skill and vocal range and his singing jarred everyone out of their reverie. The bard stopped mid-song and glared at Oorr who was oblivious to the look.
Quickly gathering her composure, she invited Oorr up on stage to join her and he blindly agreed, while the others all tried to talk him out of it. Sadly, his second attempt was no better than his first and the crowd started to get hostile. The bard managed to regain their attention and loyalty with a joke and as she ushered Oorr off the stage, she quickly berated him in his native galdani tongue and told him never to interrupt her again.
While Oorr made a fool of himself, Arbor arranged for lodging and stabling for the group and their mounts, using most of the money from the oghrym cave. Once they were settled and fed, they inquired with the innkeep about the thieves, describing them as riders. The innkeep said that there had been some sort of commotion on the north road a few nights past but no one had seen anything and the only riders hereabouts were the spectral ones that had terrorised the woods these past few weeks.
When the party enquired further about these spectral riders, the innkeep said that he'd never seen them personally you see, on account that those that do all end up dead, but t'was said that these riders appeared out of the mist, waylaying travellers, burning crops, spoiling milk and the like, and then disappearing like the darkness at dawn. In fact, the barkeep said that someone had come through earlier saying that they'd attacked Riverrun, the village to the south, last night.
Angrar was getting somewhat muddled trying to keep track of all the local towns and asked the innkeeper if he happened to have a map for sale. Sadly, the innkeep said he didn't have one for sale, but he did escort Angrar to one of the private dining rooms where there was an map drawn on the wall in intricate detail. The more Angrar stared at it, the more he was convinced that the map was moving. The barmaids started bringing their food and Angrar convinced Suljurn to make a copy of the map while they ate.
As they were eating, they would occasionally ask the barmaids or innkeeper about various places on the map. Learning about the witch that haunted Morwen's Tower and that the Spectral riders had also been seen to the west Near Merrit's Rest, which was strange as word is no one had come from the town in weeks and it was usually busy supplying stone and ore from the quarries in the hills. One of the barmaids mentioned that the city watch had been snooping around town looking for the thieves but hadn't found anything and had left yesterday morning heading north towards Westwood.
While they ate, they also heard rumours of some sort of catastrophe that had befallen the neighbouring island of Cìrdan. Apparently the city's sewers had flooded on Samhain Eve and several prisoners had rioted and escaped from the prison there. People were pointing fingers but no one knew who to blame. The city was in shambles and would take months to repair.
The party tried to act nonchalant at the news while still listening to hear if they'd been blamed but their names thankfully never came up. The chatter in the common room died down again as the bard started another song and the party used this opportunity to quickly finish their meals and retire for the night. As a group, they were asleep before their heads hit the pillows.
The next morning, they awoke refreshed and revitalised. They broke their fast with some warm bread and honey while they waited for the poor stableboy to saddle their horses. As they waited, they saw the bard from the night before quickly saddling her own horse and making preparations to head out. Oorr made an attempt to approach her, but her glare stopped him dead in his tracks from twenty paces away. She set off quickly, taking the southern route through the forest and by the time all five of their horses were saddled and the wagon hitched up, she was long out of sight.
Based on some of the rumours they had heard last night about spectral riders, they felt that south was also their best direction, or at the very least, it was no worse than any other at this point. Oorr was certain that the rumour of the abandoned village in the mountains was a better lead, but after his performance the night previous, the rest of the party had little goodwill to listen to his theories.
Heading out, the trip south was initially uneventful, but as they got closer to the village of Riverrun, the smell of smoke got increasingly stronger. When they finally arrived at the village proper, the smell of char was so strong it stuck in their throats and caused several coughing fits. The few buildings that remained didn't look like they had been in good repair to begin with and the town itself had seen better days. Scattered among the burned out husks, the party saw several families and people searching through the wreckage for the remains of their lives.
In the village common they came on what looked like a makeshift field hospital and what they saw there shocked them all to the bone. Tending the wounded was a creature they swore didn't exist but they'd all seen before in a dream on the far side of the world. A short, bipedal turtle-like being with a hard carapace was tending the wounded. When it looked up, the group gasped collectively. Not only was this creature similar to one they'd met in a dream half a world away, it bore the exact same face as The Bleak Ranger, that they'd delivered a candygram too so many months ago. It was impossible!
The Tetsudan looked up at them quizzically as they stared back at her, and in heavily accented dhabaran, she asked what they wanted? Angrar, being the only one to understand the question, stammered an answer about passing through and searching for some spectral riders.
The stranger responded that she didn't know anything about spectral riders. She motioned to the devastation around them, and said that the ones that had done this were real enough and that the tracks led off to the west. Angrar managed to recover from his shock and politely asked who the stranger was. She introduced herself as Gris, The Greywarden, tracker and warden to the forests of the Lord and Lady Prestor of Aldergrove.
After introducing himself and the others in turn, Angrar was about to question Gris further, but was stopped by a gesture from the warden. Gris said that she didn't have time to chat and tilted her head towards the injured villagers lining up for the ranger's ministrations. Angrar and the others selflessly asked if they could help and were directed to a stack of clean bandages. They got to work and looked like they'd be spending the next several hours tending to the injured villagers needs.
Oorr got impatient and started to use his spells to heal the villagers, regardless of their injury and was chastised by the warden who explained that now they'd all expect similar treatment. Sure enough, the crowd looked at them expectantly and despite Gris' admonishment, Suljurn and the group used their powers to heal as many as they could and bandaged the rest.
While they worked, Angrar was able to question Gris further. At first he asked if she had a sister? - No. Her clutchmates all died young. He then asked if she knew Yhktakyly or anything about Candygrams? But this just confused her further. Giving up the line of questioning as it was going nowhere he started asking about the riders and asked if she needed help tracking them down. Gris responded that as much she'd like to track down the bastards who did this, she had much bigger priorities. She said she was tracking a bigger threat to the forest, a toxic druid that had moved through and was blighting the land. The description she gave rang a huge bell with Angrar. He was certain that it was Bolkaer, the insane druid they'd met in Círdan's sewers. At Arbor's urging, he also asked if the saurial bard from the night before had passed this way. Gris said that she'd come by earlier on a very lathered horse. Said she'd spent some time tending to the injured while her horse rested, and sang a few songs to lift their spirits and then had continued south across the bridge.
The party finished tending the wounded and donated the produce they'd found in the Oghrym's cave to the refugees in the hopes that it would help them recover faster.
While Gris finished up her ministrations, the party gathered their own gear and prepared to leave. But where would they go? Follow the bard further south? Search for the culprits of Riverrun's destruction? Or assist the Greywarden in hunting down the blighted druid, Bolkaer? Or do they go farther afield and investigate the abandoned village in the mountains, or the haunted witches tower?
They all sat in their saddles in the middle of the ash and soot and contemplated their next move...
Character(s) interacted with
- Argus Fotheringham, The Arch-Deacon of the Rayahn Church.
- Gris, The Greywarden
- Terazmisci, The Bard
Related Reports
Notes
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FNORD!
Deadeye Cliffhanger
Oorr Rosetta del Hilltopple
Rogue 4
Sorcerer 1
10
18
12
8
12
16
Urith Thane
Suljurn sah-Ghad
Arbor Nox
