This is for the campaign Greed of the Runelords
I passed two traveling groups yesterday. Nothing much to say.
The first was a wealthy couple. The silver inlays in the spokes of their carriage wheels and the gold studs on the bridles of the horses said as much. I saw them through their windows as they rode past. I wonder how long until he begins beating her? She was pretty. I imagine she’d still be very desirable with a bruise or two on her face.
My boots hurt by the end of the day. I should get a horse. I sure carry a lot of crap.
The second was a group of young Varisians. One was playing a harp and alternating between singing and telling jokes. 'A troll a goblin and a dragon are in a tavern. The dragon asks them what do you think it would be like if I ate you? The Goblin said, you’d have the s~#~s for a month! The troll said…'
Wish I’d heard the rest. I could really use a joke right now. But they drew silent as they passed. A large man in so much metal positioned himself between me and his companions as they passed. I smiled. He nodded. I can’t imagine walking far with so much steel strapped to my ass. There was a midget of some sort. Pointed ears made it look inhuman. I caught it eying my ammo pouch. Heh, no coins there you little larcenist. Just your death if you try it.
But there was this woman! Wow! I’ve not seen such a beautiful woman other than the pictures of my mother before. She had raven black hair, curled and she wore make ups. She was slender and toned. There were draftings in her gown and cloak that allowed me to glimpse the pale skin of her hips and thighs and stomach… I wish she was traveling with me now. This would be a far finer trip beside her! I wouldn’t even strike her! No matter what she said. She was so beautiful I cannot imagine bruising that perfect skin. I think I need to get saddled when I reach Sandpoint… I can afford an evening lady. I’ll get one that will let me beat her. Perfect alchemy for my frustrations.
I could have killed that damn Sergeant Holbrith. What a fool. No idea who he had in his office. It would have been orgasmic to pull my father’s old pistol and blow his face off for telling me my father’s vanishing is now a “LOWEST PRIORITY” with that smug smirk. Bastard. I’ll find my father first…then visit him and his family one night…
Daylight is fading fast. I need to find a high spot to sling my hammock. Officer Satinder…I have the clue you need, I’m coming.
-Journal of Jarek Prath, Sunset, Sunday, Rova 23, 4707 AR
”We finally made our way into the city. I’m relieved I found Satinder so quickly and easily. Though I admit I’m somewhat disappointed I didn’t get to break any arms tracking him down.
I came across Satinder and his ‘friends’ recovering a coach for some travelers. I crept upon the exchange and set sight on the larger one. How I hoped he’d take action. Large men bleed more when shot. But they surrendered the coach without a fight. Pity. They were outnumbered, but appeared to be better prepared for battle than Satinder’s band. Though admittedly in their drunken state perhaps surrender was wise.
The remaining miles into the city I had to listen to the banter of their band. Particularly the one Xander. Who appeared to enjoy his own articulations more than the rest of the party combined. There is also a Toban. Large man. Though why the fool wears his swords across his back is beyond me. It will be amusing when he tries to re-sheath them across his back and has to ask for help. Awfully long blades to be worn so. Hez isn’t so bad. Doesn’t talk often and seems to truly know the matters he speaks of. Though with them all carrying along so we’re lucky no goblins or brigands stole upon us in stealth.
When we reached the town I was relieved Satinder’s friends all went their separate ways, and we went to his abode. There I shared the strange writing in my fathers pistol grip. He too felt it was important, and he confirmed some of the writing was in the giants tongue. However there was writing he was also unable to translate. He thought his friend Hez may be able to complete the translation that has thwarted my every attempt. So we went to Hez’s home.
Upon arriving the most blusterous, strange and fat nude brother of his received us. Rather, I imposed us due to his brothers reluctance to be cooperative. Why nude from the belt down? Why bother attempting to conceal his manhood with that banana? Why assault a hapless topless woman in the washroom? If she was to be dealt with in ill spirit, what she had exposed suggested better uses for her flesh than an assault with a vase...
Where the hell is Hez, and why is no one in this city fully dressed?”
-From the journal of Jarek Prath, Monday, Rova 24, 4707 AR