Six Out of Restov - A Kingmaker Journal [SPOILERS]


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Day 1

It feels strange to be keeping a journal again. The events of the day are many and yet I have no idea where to begin in the telling. But the routine helped me put my thoughts in order years ago, and looking back upon my older words has given me some additional perspective on how I have grown. I have a feeling that in the days ahead I will have much to put in order.

I have been visiting my sister Naella and my good friend Bieran at the monastery of my youth this week. It has been quite some time since I had seen them last, and the first since my confirmation as a servant of Our Lady In Steel. It has felt good to be back home, even as I feel a hint of restlessness.

It seems my time here has drawn to a close however. A letter arrived today from an associate, and another good friend, the noble-blooded Leopold Renault Rolovski. He had written to me concerning a task of great import entrusted to our- I hesitate to use the word guild as freely as he does. There are only four of us that I know of, and Leopold has yet to even choose a name from a pool of several. Sometimes I doubt he will ever make a final decision and simply use whatever title strikes his fancy on any given day. This seems a criticism of his character, but in truth I do envy his freer spirits, to a point.

It seems I have digressed.

The job involved travel to the south, possibly into the River Kingdoms. We are to meet and discuss matters and then it is off to Restov. I will be bidding farewell to my family and friends in the morning. Tonight, I will cherish their company while I can.


Day 2

Bieran never seems to change, and I am mostly grateful for it. We walked about the hills this morning before I returned to the monastery and set off to meet Leopold. The woods are the same as when I left the first time. I rather miss those simpler days spent helping him with his work, sometimes.

He asked me how long I would likely be away. I could give no definite answer. He then of course took the opportunity to suggest that I find a nice satyr girl while during my time down south. He still, to this day, purposefully mistakes me and my sister for fey. I begged him to change the subject as he delved into greater detail concerning - I do not know how to put it tastefully - suffice to say, the conversation veered towards the uncomfortable.

I do not even know if there are female satyrs. I do not remember hearing of any. Are there any? I suppose they must, but I was certainly not going to ask for Bieran's expertise lest my depressingly expansive vocabulary of colorful Dwarven words grow that much more.

He assured me that he would check on Naella while I was away and wished me luck on my journey. I take great comfort in knowing he is as true to his word as his language is crass. I wished him farewell, and promised to see him again, before too long a wait.

When I returned to the monastery, Naella had a gift for me. She had intended to give it to me at a more fitting time, but my departure had hurried the matter. She told me she had it made for me when I began my training for my service to Iomedae.

My sister knows me far more than even I had thought. She had commissioned the forging of a back plate of armor, specifically made to fit over the ruined stumps jutting from my shoulders. The outside flared outwards, in the shape of small, steel angel wings, held high and unfolded. Purely ornamental, but it was far more than that to me. She had given me back my wings. I hugged her tightly, taking care as always not to hurt the small, fragile bat-like wings that I once shared with her. I thanked her for her gift and her unspoken forgiveness. She asked me only that I stay safe.

I dallied longer than I probably should, but I was cuaght up in the moment. After we finally shared our farewells, I set off to meet my comrades. I pushed my steed as much as I dared early on, but eased off after I made up for lost time. We should be meeting tomorrow.

I freely admit, my spirits are certainly high at the moment.


Day 3

I will never understand Leopold's grandfather, and perhaps that is for the best. I suppose I should not be shocked at his stinginess, considering what he is, but one would think that someone with as much wealth as he could be bothered to give his grandson enough money to buy a horse.

It simply does not seem right for a nobleman to be forced to walk alongside his donkey.

He did not seem overly bothered by it, at least not outwardly. Marek, his life-long bodyguard, did not seem ill at ease with the walk either, but he has always seemed the picture of cool professionalism to me. The elven man comes across as unflappable, which is likely quite handy as personal trait considering the nature of his charge.

On the other side of the spectrum, Theodore Mist was also present. If Theo showed no sign of being bothered by the lack of transportation I suspect it was simply because he didn't care. There was a certain intensity about the man, and he could seem quite excitable at times, far more than his half-brother, Leo. I would assume the deep differences in their nature to be due primarily to Theodore's illegitimate birth, but I dislike drawing such judgments on the basis of one's blood and birth. The matter hits too close to home for comfort.

I walking alongside my horse with them on our way to Restov as we shared news. Apparently the job ahead of us involves assisting in the suppression of banditry to the south, or so it would seem. Dangerous work, to be sure, but the duty ahead of us is just and needs attending.

Still, I just simply cannot understand why a dragon could not part with enough gold to buy three more horses. He has a literal hoard of wealth. How could he possibly miss three hundred gold pieces?


Day 4

I am never buying trail rations from Piotr Miedev again. I do not wish financial ruin upon the man but I can not in good conscience recommend his wares to anyone else.

The weather, on the other hand, has been quite nice. It still amazes me to see such expansive field of green with so few people and buildings about.

Theodore does not seem particularly distracted by the scenery. I suppose he is used to such vistas.


Day 5

An eventful day, this one.

We arrived at Restov and met with a representative of the Swordlords. We were issued a charter that authorized us to embark on an exploratory mission into the Greenbelt, a stretch of wildland in the Stolen Lands just south of Rostland's border. We would be expected to map the region as thoroughly as possible. We were also tasked with driving out the bandits that had taken root in the area, particularly along an important trade route. We were authorized to execute any who proved unrepentant.

I had initially grown excited at the prospect of exploring the great, wide wilderness to the south before learning of the grim task expected of us during our time there. I understand the need for such actions, and I am, regrettably, no stranger to killing in defense of others, but it is something I have never grown comfortable with, and it something I pray I never do. It is not something I wish to become easy.

However, there is no telling how many have fallen prey to the criminals prowling the Greenbelt, and it is for their sake that we must hunt these bandits down. I trust in the Inheritor to guide our blades and shield our souls in the days ahead.

We were not the only people present however. We were to be accompanied by two other men, of whom we knew little.

Our introduction could only charitably be described as awkward. An old man, incredibly old, I cannot stress that enough, leapt into my face, howling "Demon!" and making strange signs towards me as if to ward off evil. At first I thought he was a madman, hurling insults and assumptions I had mistakenly thought I could no long be bothered by. But then I noticed the weather-worn, leathery skin, the fishing rod on his back and the other trappings that marked him as incredibly out of place within Restov's walls. I think he may be a follower of Erastil.

I and my friends tried to patiently assure the old man that I was merely a tiefling, but he seems an incredibly suspicious sort. I think his name is Jervik, but I am not entirely certain. It took me days to pick through Bieran's thick dwarven accent. I suspect it will take weeks to fully acclimate to this man's. He is apparently well-travelled. He has seen the sea, at least.

The other man was ostensibly with Jervik, but he held himself off to the side, as if not wanting to be associated with the old man. A young fellow, possibly my age. He gave his name as Viktor, a recent graduate of one of Restov's storied fencing schools. He wore two swords of fine make upon his belt. I am told they are both Aldori duelling blades. Whether he can actually weild both of them at once or if one or both are simply for show, I cannot say. If he truly was trained in the Aldori style, that is at least one sword accounted for. I could tell little about the man, except that he seemed to be associated with Jervik in some manner, and reluctantly so at that. He, at the very least, seems sane.

We asked what else we should expect in the Greenbelt. The official gave little in the way of certain answers, but he did suggest that the forests were haunted by fey. He mentioned something in passing, that I could not quite catch. Mice, I think. Surely that could not be what he said, of course.

I had to wonder, were there actually beings like dryads, real satyrs, fairies and nymphs in the Greenbelt? Just like in the stories I and my sister were told so long ago? Might we actually see them? I asked my comrades as much. Marek's affirmation probably brought more visible excitement to my face than I might have liked, and his cooly voiced afterthought of "and we might not have to kill any of them." probably brought more visible distress to my face than I would have liked as well. Why should we need to fight such creatures? Surely no fey would have any reason to harm us.

We were also informed that we should travel to a small trading post owned by a man named Oleg. It seems we are expected to begin our mission there, and possibly use it as a base of operations. It should be three days travel to get there.

Everyone seems eager to start. It is hard to stand still, with such an inviting frontier waiting for us just three days away. We are gathering what little supplies we can afford in addition to what we have already. After that, we will be setting out immediately.

And Leopold has yet to make a final decision concerning the name of this company.


Day 6

I am no longer so certain that Jervik is a follower of Erastil. The man carries some strange accoutrements, particularly a curious, small cauldron. What is inside it, I could not say, except that it is oily and singularly unpleassant to look at. I desperately hope he does not cook with the thing.

Judging from the distance Viktor seems to insist on keeping from it, I suspect I should take care to do the same.

The day's travel was uneventful as far as troubles. The fields of green seem as endless here as before our arrival at Restov. I wonder what the Greenbelt is like. Wilder, obviously. The forest around the monastery was always well tended by the efforts of the monks and woodsmen like Bieran. What would the forests to the south be like?

I wonder what dryads look like. Are they green like leaves? Or maybe they are colored like wood. I do not know. I have never seen one. I wonder if we will see one.

I think I will keep those questions to myself. I suspect they annoy the others.


Day 7

I will make a note not to discuss matters of business with Theodore. He seems rather defensive about his mother's trade. I am certain Leopold meant no offense, of course.

In truth, Theo has seemed on edge lately. He has some unpleasant history involving bandits, and our task is likely bringing forth some very unhappy memories.

I have been examining the back plate Naella gave me in private when I can. I regret not having the time to modify my meager suit of scale mail in order to use it, both because I wish to put my sister's gift to work and because it very likely was far more comfortable than how my armor currently presses down upon what remains of my wings. I can cope with the discomfort, but it does become distracting at times. I've only myself to blame for that, really.

Perhaps there is a blacksmith at this trading post. They must have a number of services available there. Perhaps then I can have it done. Provided I can earn the money to pay for it.

It is humbling, to have but one gold piece to your name. But then one considers how many go without even that much. I have no right to complain.

The land is getting a bit more rugged, as is the road.

I wonder, are there female satyrs? I wonder if I should ask the others.

Do leprechauns live in the forest?


Day 8

I strongly suspect Jervik is dangerously senile.

I had been riding ahead just a bit and returning to keep an eye on the road ahead, since I was one of the few amongst us with a horse. The old man began complaining about aches in his joints. I am ashamed to admit it, but I had overlooked the man's age and the special needs that entailed during our trip.

I dismounted and helped him up upon my steed. As I did so, I noticed that he seemed a bit more spry and limber than he looked. He didn't seem to be hurting nearly as much as he let on. Still, he is an old man, so of course I could not simply let him walk while I rode. I took the reins and started to lead the horse along, when suddenly something, and I suspect it was the old man, caused her to bolt from my grasp.

I was blessed in that I wasn't trampled, and Jervik in that he did not fall out of the saddle. We chased after him before we found him, asleep in the saddle, the horse nibbling on grass by the roadside.

I quietly took the horse's reins again and we continued on. I made certain to hold tightly this time.

The road was rough now, and the land about us had grown wild. I could see the forests in the distance, carpeting the landscape before us.

Gods, it is beautiful. An ocean of green, laced with the silver-blue of the land's many rivers and streams.

It was around this time that we came upon the trading post, a small wooden fort, alone and looking more vulnerable than fortified out here in the wild. It was smaller than I expected. It was certainly less populated than I had hoped.

We entered the open gate on the southern side of the walled off holding. A middle-aged man was working on the rooftop of the main building. He noticed us, but did not immediately pay us much mind when we were obviously something other than bandits. We would later learn that this fellow was Oleg himself.

The trading post holds a number of buildings: the main store, a storeroom, a bunkroom for visitors, and the stable. Two large tables sit between the store and the bunkroom, and a large firepit between those. A few middens lay behind the storeroom, thankfully removed from sight, but worryingly close to the storeroom.

A woman came out of the store to greet us, and immediately afterwards she was set upon by Theo and Jervik as they launched into a flurry of questions about the bandits in the area and a number of other questions that I could hear but not understand. I know not how the lady we came to know was Svetlana held her grace under such pressure before the rest of us calmed the tone of discourse and allowed for proper introductions. Theodore truly has been on edge of late. The matter of these bandits seems to be affecting him more than I had initially thought.

Svetlana called Oleg down, and we discussed the matter of our mission. The couple, who amazingly live out here in the wild by themselves, assumed that we had been sent to help with their bandit problem, which of course we had in a more general sense. But they thought we were the help they had specifically sent for some time ago. None of us were ever told of any specifics concerning these bandits beyond rumors of some "Stag Lord", for which there was a reward provided we could prove he existed and that he had been taken care of. We had certainly not heard any detail about the trading post itself being in distress.

It is curious that we were told nothing of this. Leopold in particular seemed to be dwelling on this.

Oleg himself seemed conflicted. He was grateful that help had arrived, but it was clear he resented that he needed help. Frankly, it is amazing that he and Svetlana have held on as long as they have on their own. Doubly amazing that Oleg moved out here from the city of his own free will, and even more that Svetlana came with him. One must credit them for their bravery and stubborness. Bieran would approve, I think.

Oleg explained exactly what was happening. Bandits from further south had approached the trading post three months ago, threatening to burn it down around them unless they paid a tax. Apparently there were about a dozen of them at the time, led by a hooded man and a fierce, axe-weilding woman.

Oleg had apparently resisted, and nearly lost his leg for his troubles. Ever since then, once every month the bandits returned, and they were paid what they demanded. They seemed to be growing careless though, as less bandits came with each visit. Apparently, only half a dozen came with the hooded man the last time. And as fortune would have it, they were due to arrive again tomorrow, if they held to their schedule.

All of us agreed that it would be best to set up an ambush. Oleg would leave the gate open, allowing them into the post as they demanded, then we would block their exit and strike them down or apprehend them. Marek arranged for Oleg's wagon to be kept near the gate. He was planning on blocking the gate with it so that the rest of us could focus on subduing the bandits. We stressed to Oleg that he should seek shelter as soon as possible along with his wife. Thankfully, his common sense overcame any desire to join in the fight.

I brought up the matter of finding a place to keep prisoners, should we manage to take any. Oleg simply suggested that they be kept in one of the middens. I balked, but sadly, that would be the most secure place to keep them given the current state of the trading post.

We spent the rest of the day examining the post, detailing our strategy, and we are all turning in early tonight, I think. We need to be up before morning, because everything needs to be ready before the "taxmen" arrive.

As much as it shames me, I am uncomfortable with the idea of fighting and possibly having to kill a woman, as fierce and as brutal as she may be. Rationally, I know this to be a backwards way of thinking, particularly for an Iomedaean. But something puts me ill at ease, and I do not know why. I will pray for guidance this night.

Iomedae guide our blades.


Day 9 - Morning

We saw battle as expected this morning, and we expect more before the end of the day.

We awoke early today and saw to our preparations for the ambush. We asked Oleg if his stores had anything that could be useful in the defense of his post. He had a selection of weaponry, armor, and tools, but little that would be of immediate use to us that we did not already possess. He did have a few beneficial potions for sale, but none of us could afford his wares, nor did we think we might actually need them that morning if all went as planned.

We took our places. Theodore hid in the storeroom, taking the most dangerous position in our trap. Leopold hid behind the bunkhouse, and I waited upon my horse behind the stable. Marek and Jervik hid in the wagon that had been placed next to the gate, with Oleg's horse ready to pull it forth to block the bandit's escape. Viktor lay flat on the walkway above the wagon. Svetlana would take shelter in the store, and Oleg would join her soon afterwards as soon as the fighting started.

The bandits arrived not too long afterwards. There were seven of them, and they were apparently at ease with their monthly visit. They never noticed us, and did not show any suspicion at all as Oleg met them. They entered through the gate and dismounted, some of them making crass jokes and veiled threats about Svetlana. My stomach turned upon hearing them.

As the apparent leader opened the door to the storehouse, those who could see him sprang into action. Theodore slashed at the man from the shadows as soon as the door opened, and Viktor leapt from the walk. Jervik guided the horse to pull the wagon into the entrance. Marek stood upright, readying an arrow and aiming at the closest of the thieves. Leo ran as quickly as he could, his longspear held before him, to take his place alongside the entrance, blocking the remaining gap that could allow a chance of escape. I rode as fast as I could around the stable, suddenly finding myself alongside two of the thugs.

The bandits hardly had any time to react. It is fortunate that they were so surprised; my horse was hardly trained for such things, and she was so spooked that I had to fight to stay in the saddle. Theo did not let up on his attack, and the bandit's leader quickly fell. He was dead before he hit the ground. I am not sure if Marek's arrow struck its target, but I am fairly certain Viktor's swords struck down another of the bandits. Jervik rose to his feet in the wagon, pointing at the remaining bandits, five now, and shouting for them to fall where they stood.

Four of them did just that. It was amazing. They simply fell asleep and collapse. I pointed my sword at the one who still stood and warned him to surrender. After all, they had clearly lost any chance of victory at that point. Instead, he turned and fled around main store. I was fearful for a moment that he might be rushing after Oleg and Svetlana, but I later learned that he was trying to escape by climbing over the wall behind the store. Theodore chased after him, and Marek prepared another arrow for the man in case he came back into view atop the wall on the other side of the post.

Meanwhile, the rest of us quickly set ourselves to securing the sleeping bandits, hurlilng their weapons out of reach. I placed my two pairs of manacles upon those that I could, and we bound the rest in rope. Theodore came back around later, informing us that the other bandit had been cut down.

We dragged the four surviving bandits and placed them against the wall of the stable. If our jostling did not wake all of them up, Oleg's angry kicks certainly did. I cannot blame the man for being angry after all that he and his wife had suffered, but I tried to calm him. Of course, as soon as I started speaking to him, Jervik was upon the prisoners, slapping them, holding a sickle against their necks, threatening to cut off their toes. I know not if the man in truly senile or simply insane, but of this I am now certain: He is not to be trusted alone with any prisoners we take, nor with any situation requiring a delicate touch.

All the fight had gone out of the men, and they were panicked enough with Jervik's abuse before we could stop the old man. We were able to calm them enough to get some questions answered. They did indeed work for a man known as the "Stag Lord", although none of them had ever seen the man. The leader of their small group was a woman named Cressel, and the man Theodore had killed at the start of the fight had been her current lover. The level of detail these men were willing to divulge put me ill at ease, and I struggled to change subjects. We were told the location of their camp, and that they were expected back in six hours.

That left us with a problem. When these men failed to return, the other bandits would likely attack the post outright, bringing oil and fire with them. Or worse, they could gather the rest of their allies and come after the tradepost in full force. We needed to set out immediately and take them on while we knew where they were. But there was the matter of the prisoners. They were too dangerous to leave at the tradepost, as not one of the buildings was secure enough to keep them in. And we could not murder them outright, despite Jervik's suggestions, of which I am still uncertain whether he meant them seriously or as mere attempts to intimidate the bandits.

I turned to Leopold. We had been given leave to execute any unrepentant bandits in the area, but how does one truly know who is and who is not unrepentant? And what of those who are repentant? One cannot commit such crimes and walk away with no punishment. But we had no courts here, no jails. Marek mentioned that often on the frontier such criminals were dealt with by hanging. I did not want to execute men who might possibly be redeemable, and countered that I've heard tales of violent thieves in far off Qadira being punished with the loss of a hand. It was harsh, but they would still have their lives. Unfortunately, Jervik caught my words and was all too eager to start the bloody work before any of us had ever agreed to it.

I quickly placed myself between Jervik and the prisoners, my irritation and anger with both the bandits and the old man being turned upon one of the criminals alone. I demanded to know if he would return to the Greenbelt if they were let go. He stammered that they would not. I am not so sure I trusted his answer, but Jervik leaned forward as if to start cutting off their toes. The men were obviously fearing for their lives, and any sense of bravado was long gone. The man I was interrogating begged that he be spared, that he had children.

I fear I may have lost my temper upon hearing his mention of children. I remember lifting the man up and holding him against the wall, snarling at him for having left them, asking him if he wanted them to be orphans. The man promised that he'd return to the city, that he would find honest work. I believed him this time, but I promised him that if he ever returned to threaten any in the Greenbelt again, there would be no escaping punishment.

The men were made to leave, bereft of all their arms and armor. Jervik seemed disappointed that the men were not tied up, made to suffer more on their journey north back to the cities of Brevoy, but the others seemed satisfied at the time. I had no heart for adding further petty vengeance. But still, I have my worries. Should they have been punished more harshly? Would our treatment of them turn any of their lives around for the better, or would they simply fall back to banditry once more? Or would a harsher punishment only have hardened their hearts further?

Jervik suggests that we dealt with them too softly, that they would not have shown us the same mercy.

I suspect that is the very point. During our time here, away from the shield of civilization, we will have to choose whether to sink to the level of our enemies or to hold ourselves to a higher standard. Perhaps it is naive idealism on my part, but it is something I feel I need to hold onto.

We handed all of the bandits equipment over to Oleg, as it was he and his wife who suffered these past three months. We took the six horses, after which I quickly sold Oleg mine. She was a good mare, but these six seemed more acclimated to the wild outside, more rugged. Oleg granted us a boon as well: the three potions he had offered earlier, he granted to us freely. He wishes us to succeed in our task, and seems willing to do all he can to aid us. I pray we can continue to compensate him fully.

We did find one curiosity. The leader of the group we defeated had a silver clasp upon his cloak. An emblem of this Stag Lord we were now certain truly existed. Perhaps we can learn more from this Cressel and her men, should any be captured.

The preparations are done. We are setting out now, into the wild.

Silver Crusade

Pathfinder Adventure Path, Starfinder Adventure Path Subscriber

I'm just letting you know that I'm really enjoying these journals.

Silver Crusade

Danke! I've only got one more entry possible before most of the first session is written up. Can't go any futher than that, since I have to be sure the writer is even alive and able to write! ;)

I've been looking forward to playing in this campaign ever since it was announced! Everyone is digging it thus far.


Mikaze wrote:

Danke! I've only got one more entry possible before most of the first session is written up. Can't go any futher than that, since I have to be sure the writer is even alive and able to write! ;)

I've been looking forward to playing in this campaign ever since it was announced! Everyone is digging it thus far.

If the writer is messily dispatched, have the writer's ghost haunt the party - specifically, Jarvak - through the rest of the campaign. ^_^

Silver Crusade

Good journal, and Liath has a very interesting background.

As for his background:

Spoiler:

I hope that he has a chance to confront his despicable father. Of course, Liath's elevation into the nobility would be the best kind of revenge.

Are you planning on making his sister a cohort at some point? Besides the advantage of a reliable minion to assist with the kingdom, it could bring more of his backstory into play.


Day 9 - Afternoon

This wildland is even stranger than I had thought. The trees seem haunted by laughing fey and the inhabitants we have managed to see are insane.

We travelled south-west from the trading post, seeking out the river that would guide us to the bandit's camp. Theodore led the way, picking our path and keeping us from running afoul of the thicker undergrowth upon the forest floor.

The forests here are amazing. Looking at it from outside, it clearly dwarfs the woodland around the monastery. Seeing it from within is another experience entirely. There are times, whenever we travel underneath a canopy of green, that the land seems like a grand cathedral amidst these towering trees. It is good that Theo was guiding us. I likely would have stumbled over something, so focused was I on everything but the ground in front of us.

After about three hours of travel, we heard something within a clearing ahead of us. It was a faint, yipping sound. We dismounted, and Theo and Marek scouted ahead as the rest of us secured our horses. Theo was at home, picking his way through the undergrowth, and Marek seemed to have no trouble keeping up as he silently picked his steps as well. I suppose it comes easy to elves. I do not know all of what Marek did during his time as Leopold's bodyguard, but perhaps he had experience similar to Theodore's when it came to the wilderness. He would certainly have had the time before being employed by House Rolovski.

The rest of us had just finished tying our horses down when we heard the yipping again. They were words, but of a language I did not know. One of our comrades within the clearing replied in the same language. Then more words from whomever they found within. The meaning was lost on me, but the tone seemed tense.

It was at that moment when Jervik shouted for them to come out and show themselves. Immediately, we heard shrieking within the clearing and the sounds of battle. With many a curse we rushed forth, picking our way through the trees and brambles as best we could.

When I made it to the clearing, Marek was alright and already drawing another arrow. Theo, on the other hand, was being swarmed. He was further ahead of Marek, and all about him were six small kobolds, hopping and thrusting little spears at him. He was already bleeding from a few shallow wounds, but he was skillfully dodging most of their attacks, almost always one step ahead of the next jab coming at him. The kobolds seemed to be in a frothing rage, shouting strange things in their odd tongue.

Leopold, Victor, and I closed upon the kobolds surrounding Theo. They were absolutely focused on him, Theo was struck again and again as we tried to fight through his attackers, but the man still fought on. I truly feared for his life at that moment. He was covered in his own blood.

A few darts flew between us. I was worried for a moment that there were more kobolds hidden amongst the trees, but then I realized that Jervik was out of sight. He was trying to pick them off from a distance, as was Marek. It was a wise decision. The man seems rugged but he is also quite old.

Whatever doubts I had concerning Viktor's skill with two Aldori blades at once have been washed away after today. The man worked in steel the way a poet works in words. One kobold was cut to pieces as his swords wove through the air. The kobolds were struck down, one by one, and still they did not relent. Even to the last. I called for it - I lament the use of the pronoun, but I must admit that I could not tell if the kobold was male or female - to surrender, but even if it understood my words, which I doubt, I suspect it would have continued to attack. It's eyes were feral with rage. Theo was barely standing upright when he managed to cut the kobold's arms off, sending it thrashing to the ground. Goddess, it was a pitiful sight, spitting and cursing even as it bled out. I stabbed it in the heart, as we are taught, to put it out of its misery.

Theodore was in terrible shape. Thankfully, one of the potions Oleg had granted us was able to heal at least some of his wounds. He is still in rough shape, but he is steady on his feet again.

I could finally take stock of the clearing we were in. There were oddly colored plants here and there. Marek mentioned that the kobolds seemed to be protective, or possessive, of them. The others identified them as "moon radishes".

I still cannot believe it. Those kobolds were willing ot kill, and threw their lives away, over radishes? What madness.

I was still trying to rationalize what could drive anyone to be willing to die over a patch of vegetables when Leopold's cursing drew our attention. Our horses and the mule were gone. The ropes binding them had been cut.

For a moment I worried that there were more kobolds(likely insane as well) about, but we quickly realized that it seemed unlikely. A few of the others said it had the marks of fey trickery. I had finally had an encounter with fey, and not only did I not see them, they stole our horses, or so it seemed.

Theodore and Marek set out track down our horses. They noted from the tracks that it did not seem they left in a hurry, so they were likely not stolen but had instead wandered off.

As we waited for them to return, I went to work on burying our fallen enemies. It would not do to simply leave them to rot. Jervik was busy gathering radishes. Apparently they are worth quite a bit, or are potent ingredients in certain mystical concoctions. I know not his interest in them.

As I said a short prayer for the kobolds, Jervik questioned my act, saying that they weren't deserving of such mercy, that they were all wicked, the lot of them. I wonder if he feels the same way about tieflings, considering his ease at throwing the word "demon" at my face. It does not matter. The burial was for our sake as well as the kobolds. What we do defines us, not our blood. And I refuse to let uncaring apathy when something just needs doing shape me, this old man's superstitions and judgment be damned.

Theodore and Marek returned with out mounts and the mule, none the worse for wear. We were delayed an hour, but no real harm had been done. We quickly continued on our way.

Not very long after setting out again, we were ambushed, or so it seemed. A troll, a giant green hulk of a beast, came lumbering out of a copse of trees, growling and charging us. We steeled ourselves for the attack, all except Jervik. He seemed to look past - or through - the troll, and pointed, yelling for "them" to stop playing about.

The rest of us didn't have much time to voice our confusion and worry as the troll quickly closed ranks with us, and suddenly faded away. An illusion, and those responsible were giggling from the treetops around us. The fey were playing games with us it seemed. As much as I wished to meet them, I could not help but call out how inappropriate their prank was.

I simply felt it was in very poor taste.

We didn't have time to search around for them, but as we have continued on our way they have not harrassed us any further. Not that I have noticed, at least.

We have found the river, a narrow flow of cool, clear water, as refreshing to look at as it is to the tongue. Theodore is following it further ahead, to scout out the camp we intend to attack. I pray for his quick and safe return. I've a feeling that however many bandits there are, they will be more dangerous than little, insane kobolds.

Silver Crusade

Turin the Mad wrote:


If the writer is messily dispatched, have the writer's ghost haunt the party - specifically, Jarvak - through the rest of the campaign. ^_^

If I can convince the GM to use Ghostwalk, let's hope Liath gets a particularly gruesome death then, for maximum effect!

Eric Zylstra wrote:


** spoiler omitted **

Spoiler:
That's actually part of why I had her go into the priesthood! :D I know Leopold and Liath will be taking Leadership in order to help with stability, and we also have those other positions in the player's guide to fill. As a paladin I could go High Priest, technically, but I'm a better fit for something else and we could use an actual cleric amongst us anyway.

I'm not certain she'll be coming over though. Just gonna let things happen organically, and if something more fitting doesn't come along, Liath is definitely sending a letter to his sister saying that he has an idea for something ambitious, and he needs her help.


Mikaze wrote:
Turin the Mad wrote:


If the writer is messily dispatched, have the writer's ghost haunt the party - specifically, Jarvak - through the rest of the campaign. ^_^

If I can convince the GM to use Ghostwalk, let's hope Liath gets a particularly gruesome death then, for maximum effect!

Eric Zylstra wrote:


** spoiler omitted **
** spoiler omitted **

Well ... the haunting spirit does not have to be able to do anything to write a journal entry. ^_^


Really enjoying this read, very nicely done.

Can't wait to see if Jarvick gets the party into the inevitable trouble I think he's going to get them into.


Yes. Yes he will. We've already come to this conclusion. He's quite known for trouble causing.

Also, Liath, you got my last name wrong.

Sovereign Court

This is beautifully written, good job!
Would it be possible to get a list of the characters, with race, class and alignment?


Leopold Orlavsky wrote:

Yes. Yes he will. We've already come to this conclusion. He's quite known for trouble causing.

Also, Liath, you got my last name wrong.

Apologies, friend.

I blame the draconic accent.

}:D

Silver Crusade

Thanks folks! I'll try to keep this up to date!

Moonbeam wrote:


Would it be possible to get a list of the characters, with race, class and alignment?

I'd give the full details if I had them(I'm basically learning as I go, in character), but here's what I know for certain!

Leopold Orlavsky - ? Good Human Sorcerer(draconic bloodline)
Marek - ? Neutral Elf Fighter(archer) (heading towards arcane archer)
Theodore - ?? Human Ranger (Erastil adherent)
Jervik - ?? Human Witch
Viktor - ?? Human Fighter(dual Aldori blades) (heading towards duelist)
Liath Samathran - LG Tiefling(demonspawn) Paladin(Iomedae)

Sovereign Court

Oh, you guys keep the alignments secret? Interesting. ;)

I think there will be a lot of conflict between Jervik and Liath.


Leopold's Neutral Good, I think Marek's True Neutral (I think), Theo is Chaotic Good I believe. Not sure about Jervik or Viktor.


Leopold Orlavsky wrote:
Leopold's Neutral Good, I think Marek's True Neutral (I think), Theo is Chaotic Good I believe. Not sure about Jervik or Viktor.

Viktor is Jerky McJerkface. And Jervik is Old Man Crazy.

Silver Crusade

Moonbeam wrote:

Oh, you guys keep the alignments secret? Interesting. ;)

I think there will be a lot of conflict between Jervik and Liath.

It's not so much that they were secret as it is that we tend to hit the ground running and take time to sort out everything we probably should. ;)

But Leo and Talbane's summations are mostly correct, I think, though I believe Jervik has been stated as Chaotic Crazy Old Man Good. Not sure about Vik, seems somewhat neutralish. Not really that much of a jerk.

I think... Nah, he's okay. He probably just has his image he needs to keep up. ;)

Will update as quickly as possible. It's going to take some time to sort this one out. Things got wild and complicated and not in the way you probably expect.

Fellow players! A minor surprise at the begining of the next session might be spoiled for ya if you read through this beforehand. Eh, it might be spoiled for you anyway! Check with the GM!


Day 9 - Evening

It has been a very strange, trying day, but we are victorious. Wounded, but victorious.

Theodore returned from his scouting venture safely. He still looked to be in poor condition for a fight. Even with the healing potion he was still ailing from the numerous wounds the kobolds inflicted upon him.

He was able to get a general ideal about the lay of the land around and within the bandits' camp. They were staying within the fork of the river, right upon the road crossing through it. He was not able to see exactly how many bandits there were, but he did confirm that they were there and where most of them seemed to be congregating. He also noted two stands in the trees around the river, overlooking the road. No doubt there would be bowmen watching for victims or intruders from those.

We then set ourselves to planning our attack. We hoped to capture their leader, in the hopes that she could provide more information about the Stag Lord than those we captured at the trading post. We knew it to be an unlikely outcome of our attack however, especially as we could not be exactly sure how many enemies we would be facing. As we spoke, we noticed that Jervik had dozed off where he sat. I am ashamed, especially now, at how relieved I was.

Theodore had the idea of sending one of the horses running alongside the camp, to distract at least some of the bandits as we attacked from another direction. It was certainly safer than my original idea of having Theodore and Marek attack from one side of the camp from afar to draw some of the bandits away while the rest of us attacked from the other direction. That plan was too dangerous, considering Theodore's injuries. I fear my eagerness to see the bandit's leader captured and not killed blinded me to that at the time.

It was at that time that Leopold noted that we would be leaving our horses behind once more, and that they could possibly be set loose by the mischievous fairies again. Theo mentioned that many of the fey he had heard of were often amenable to certain forms of bribery, particularly offerings of food and shiny objects. I thought to simply leave a note with our horses asking them to please leave them be, but Marek, perhaps correctly, said that would only make the fey more likely to do something with them again.

Theodore walked back a bit, laying out a number of particularly lustrous silver coins and the choicer portions of his rations. He called out to the treetops in Sylvan for the fey to simply speak with us. We watched from a distance and waited. After a moment, the offering simply vanished, with the sound of faint giggling resounding shortly after. Theo shrugged, not overly surprised, I think. I was disappointed. Even with such a grim task ahead of us, I still wished to see these fey. I could not help but step forward and call out, asking them to please talk to us, and that we meant them no harm.

Just a moment later, I felt something gently land atop my head, and heard a high, ,cheerful, squeaky voice from above saying "I like your horns." I went rigid with surprise, stiffly turning to the others and asking what had latched onto my head. They could hear it, but they could not see it. I fought the urge to reach up an feel about. The voice thanked us for the gift. It seemed benign enough. It was certainly the first time I had been complimented on any mark of my heritage.

It asked who we were, in a rather friendly tone. Leopold answered - and much to my relief if this is his final decision on our group's name - "We are the Red Company, from Brevoy." I stammered that we meant them no harm, that we were simply here on an exploratory mission as well as to drive the bandits out of the area. I fear I stumbled over my words several times in my excitement. The voice seemed delighted that we were here to fight the "biggens" and finally showed himself, calling for his friend to come out at the same time.

Goddess, what a sight they are. The voice belonged to what could only be described as a dragon, but far too tiny to truly be one. His wings are certainly not those of a dragon. I wondered how such seemingly fragile butterfly wings could hold him aloft, even with his light weight. His friend came out of the tall grass, a strange woman, as tiny as the dragon, with the body of a large cricket from the waist down as if she were some sort of insect-like centaur. Her manner is hard to describe. She is at once alien and innocent. I am not certian if she is clothed or not. It seems a strange thing to say but she has something about her torso, but I could not make myself examine her closely enough to tell. I could feel my face redden at the very thought.

The dragon introduced himself as Perlivash and the cricket girl as Tigtittertug. They were apparently no friends of the bandits and had been harrassing them, likely in a manner similar to how they had treated us earlier, before our arrival. They were certainly glad that we had come to drive them out. I do not think I could hide my elation very well upon realizing we had just made peaceful contact with real fey.

We asked what they knew of the bandit camp, and they were all too happy to tell us. As Perlivash spoke with us, I noticed Tigtittertug sidling up to Viktor. Most of us had been happy enough to treat with the fey, save for Jervik, who was still asleep, and Viktor, who held himself away from the rest of us, his arms crossed and a bored expression on his face. The cricket girl tugged upon his pants, looking up at him with a curious grin and asking him if he could sing. I could not help but be amused by his response; the man who seemed so cooly confident and proud of his swordsmanship stumbled for a moment over the unusual question, and quickly righted himself with a boast that he was as competent with song as he was in the art of the blade. Tigtittertug pressed him to demonstrate, and perhaps thankfully Jervik awoke with a snort.

The old man was confused at the sight that greeted him. I wonder if he thought for a moment that he might still be dreaming. He rambled about the trouble the fey had given us earlier, but we quickly smoothed things over, especially once he knew the fey seemed willing to help with our attack.

I feared for the little creatures, and in truth wished that they would not place themselves in harm's way, but Theodore was wise to ask for their help in distracting any bandits watching from the platforms among the trees. We debated over strategy a bit more, finally deciding that a unified charge into the bandit camp from the north with Marek picking off anyone on the platforms with his bow. When we were done we realized both Perlivash and Tigtittertug had vanished. Thinking we had been abandoned by the capricious pair, we resigned ourselves to carry through with our latest plan of attack.

Theodore led us to the bandit camp, each of us keeping as quiet as possible. All of us went on foot; the horses were simply too skittish to be trusted in the midst of battle. When we finally arrived, Theo, Marek, and Viktor snuck forward just a bit ahead of us. I kept in front of Leopold, determined to protect the scion of House Orlavsky as best I could. Jervik followed closely behind, his strange little cauldron still in hand. I still know not what he keeps in that pot, but the water seems unbearably foul every time I see it.

Sadly, for all of our attempts at stealth, we were spotted before we got too close to the camp's heart. We could see them all now: The leader, a fierce looking woman with an axe by each hand, and four bandits were gathered around a campfire. The two platforms above and to the west each had a lookout atop them, and it was one of them that spotted us and called out the alarm.

Theo charged immediately, closing the distance between himself and the closest of the bandits at the fire, his axe catching the man with a vicious swing. Marek quickly took cover by one of the trees nearby and put an arrow into another bandit. After that, things get confused. I could only see for a moment the rock hurled by one of the men in the platform to the west. It streaked by Marek, landing in our midst with a deafening crack of thunder. I am not certain about the others, but I could not hear a thing for quite some time afterwards. It was eerie. No, nightmarish, seeing the battle raging in silence. We saw a number of the bandits fall upon Theodore, just as the kobolds had earlier. Thank the Inheritor he seemed to be having more luck this time. As one of the bandits charged past to engage Marek, I hurried to fight by Theo's side, with his brother close behind. Viktor closed in on the man attacking Marek, and Jervik ambled forward, preparing to work whatever strange folk magic it is he practices. The woman joined the fray, and we were given ample reason to fear her. Where her men had failed to strike Theodore, her axe found its mark easily. She was fearsome. I could scarcely believe that this was the same woman about whom the bandits we captured this morning made so many lewd comments. I wonder if they would have been so bold with their words in her presence.

Theo still stood, but he was in a bad way. Even so, he managed to slay two of the men surrounding him. Marek anf Viktor quickly dispatched their foe, with Marek joining us and Viktor rushing headlong towards the man on the westernmost platform. If any of the others called out anything in the midst of battle, I could not hear it. I could not even hear my futile demands that the bandits surrender while they still could. The woman was more fierce than I had expected, despite my attempts to steel my expectations. I could not be certain, but she seemed to say something vulgar as she swung at me, gesturing that she would be claiming my horns after she was done with us. I attempted, desperately, to strike her with the flat of my blade, but to no avail. Thankfully Leo had the presence of mind to cast his most reliable spell, summoning that strange orb of light that always finds its target. Even as he threw it, I could see the nails of his fingers growing. His heritage shows itself in strange, and sometimes unsettling, displays such as that. His fingers now bore claws; sharp, cruel things more befitting a dragon than a man.

She cursed us, and cut into both Theo and myself. Theo had already been wounded, and her strike put him down quickly, still alive thankfully. I nearly fell as well. The blow she had dealt me had taken the wind out of me, and the burning gash in my side did not help matters much either. It was obvious then that trying to subdue her gently would likely get all of us killed.

As I mouthed a quick prayer to Iomedae, I caught a glimpse of Jervik throwing a bottle up at the man on the nearby platform. He missed, and the branches of the tree behind him burst into flame. The old man was repaid with an arrow in his shoulder. Goddess, the sight of this frail man's shoulder being puctured by that cruel missile was unsettling. For all of my complaints about the madman he was still throwing himself in harm's way with a body far past its prime. It was enough to drive one to despair, but I also saw something else. There was a flash of light around the other platform, the man atop it suddenly seemed sickened and dizzy. As Viktor continued to rush forward, the man seemed to be struck by something and fell to the ground below. Viktor stopped in his tracks, looking up towards the fey which had backed us up after all. Thank the Goddess for their aid.

I finished my prayer, and swung my sword across the bandit leader's back. The blade seemed to burn her as it did so. There could be no question, she harbored a great wickedness in her heart. And still I was hesitant. That brief pause surely would have been the death of me if not for Leopold and Marek. Before she could turn her full wrath upon me, my friend slashed at her with his claws and his bodyguard brought her low with an arrow to her leg. She fell in a heap alongside Theodore, and still the fight was not yet done. The last bandit on the ground was hot on Marek's heels but the elf, skillfully dancing away just out of the man's reach, managed to fight him off with Leo's help while I went to work trying to save our friends.

I pulled our last healing potion from my belt and poured it into Theo's mouth. He did not awake, but most of his wounds closed and his bleeding stopped. As Marek's attacker fell, Viktor rushed up and demanded that the man on the platform near us surrender. He wisely complied. I saw Marek and Leo rush to help Jervik, and I caught a glimpse of what might have been horror in Marek's eyes as he did so, but whatever it was he saw, I could not tell. Whatever the case, Jervik was safe and in no danger of bleeding out. Thus I turned my attention to the bandit leader. I was able to staunch her wounds easily, even without the aid of a potion. Thank the Inheritor for the teachings of the brothers and sisters of our monastery. She was hurt, but not much worse than what she and her men had dealt Theo and Jervik. I examined the other bandits. All were dead, save for the one that surrendered and their leader

Leo, Marek, and I went to work attending to the wounded as Viktor led the prisoner over to a cart, or perhaps the prisoner was leading Viktor. Whatever the case. the bandit seemed rather disappointed, but not very surprised when Viktor led him back to us. He was quickly shackled along with his leader - we were taking no chances with her. Leo insisted on tying them up further with rope, and after feeling the woman's wrath firsthand, I was inclined to agree.

Thankfully, the flames in the tree nearby failed to take hold, and died out not very long after.

Perlivash and Tigtittertug were ecstatic. They had apparently enjoyed their fight, and were certainly eager to celebrate. Perlivash quickly claimed one of the strange stones from the man they had struck down, gleefully boasting that it was his. No doubt it will see some use on another bandit somewhere.

Viktor showed us what lay within the cart; furs, an ornate music box, jewelry, and a number of bottles of alcohol. All of it was stolen, no doubt. We secured our wounded and placed them, along with the bandit leader in the cart. We would be taking everything back to Oleg's post as soon as we could, but it was far too late to make it before nightfall, and after what we had seen thus far, none of us particularly wanted to travel through the wild in the dark, particularly with Theodore incapacitated.

We continued to attend to the wounded for a time, and I went to work on burying the fallen. After a prayer for them, and thanking Iomedae for letting us capture the bandit leader alive, I returned to find Perlivash and Tigtittertug excitedly drawing out locations in the dirt that Leopold and Marek carefully transcribed to our map. They pointed out a number of places familiar to them, including the curious highlighting of what they called a bath.

I foolishly asked what they meant when I very well should have discerned the meaning. They giggled and explained that it was a fairy bath, that the two of them shared. I tried, with great difficulty, to not visualize any bathing involving the cricket girl. Marek's question of whether or not dryads and nymphs frequented the "bath" did not help matters. I think they said no one else but animals used it, but I am uncertain. I was trying not to pay attention. The fairies cheerfully invited us to join them some time. I must have been blushing, Tigtittertug asked me what was wrong. I could answer only that I would have to decline as it would probably be improper for me to see things. Marek was a bit confused. Evidently his thinking was that she was so small that one probably wouldn't notice. Leopold of course started in with his incessant teasing. Apparently my friends enjoy my discomfort concerning open discussion of such subjects.

Viktor is apparently interested in taking them up on the offer.

I think I heard Marek and Viktor talking quietly about Jervik's cauldron after I excused myself. No doubt wondering just what it is he keeps putting in there to make the water within so befouled.

I am sitting by the cart for now, watching over the wounded. I've had enough teasing for the moment, though I do know that Leo and Marek mean no harm. It likely helps ease the stress. Perlivash has been perching atop my head off and on as I write this. Sometimes I think that he may have fallen asleep and I hesitate to move for fear of waking him. There's an air about these creatures that makes one feel protective towards them, a certain innocence.

Theodore is stirring.

Sovereign Court

Very well written, once again. It seems that things are going to be a bit rough for the first few levels until you start getting healing powers.

Silver Crusade

Moonbeam wrote:
It seems that things are going to be a bit rough for the first few levels until you start getting healing powers.

It's made things hairier, that's for certain. It's been a bit Left 4 Dead so far, with everyone not cut to pieces having to stop and mend those that are. We've certainly been rocking more Heal checks than we usually do.


Day 9 - Night

I am writing carefully at the moment. I think Perlivash has fallen asleep and I've not the heart to move him from atop my head.

Theodore, Jervik, and the woman whose name we have confirmed as Cressel have wandered in and out of consciousness in the past few hours.

Theodore seemed to be in fairly good spirits, all things considered. Jervik however was complaining of a whistling in his chest. I am fairly certain it is nothing serious. It seems to distract him from his actual wounds at least. Marek and I tended to their wounds as well as we could. It will take all of them time to recover completely, but none of them are in any further danger from their injuries.

Neither man was able to stay awake for long though, weakened as they were. They need more care and something better than a cart in which to rest.

Cressel eventually woke as well. Despite her situation she seems unusually confident. There was certainly no fear in her eyes as we spoke. Her flippant attitude was completely at odds with our other, completely uninjured prisoner. Where he was obviously worried about his fate and frequently trying to bargain with us to simply let him go, Cressel seemed certain that she somehow had the upper hand - that she had some way out of her predicament. She remained silent save for some choice insults when we asked her about the Stag Lord. I must admit, she is a bold one.

The other prisoner was marginally more helpful. He did not know much, but what he did know he was more than willing to tell. The Stag Lord's camp is located further out, an the northeast shore of the Tuskwaters. Unfortunately, he knew little more than that.

Cressel remained unhelpful. I asked her if she fully understood her situation. She said that she thought they would probably be hanged, rather nonchalantly. I asked her why this did not seem to bother her. She simply said she thinks she'll figure a way out of such a fate.

To be honest, I had not even thought of hanging them. I had been wrestling over how we had handled the matter of the surviving bandits earlier in the day. I still thought we had been too light on them, but we had no place to keep prisoners at all. After taking these two bandits prisoner, I am now considering asking Oleg for permission to use his stable or storeroom to hold them until a better solution presents itself. If not, I am seriously thinking about cleaning out one of the middens by myself if need be. It would not be pleasant, but it is better than being dead and we were certainly not going to let them go free.

I promised them their lives, upon my honor and in Iomedae's name. The look in her eyes and the change in her tone spoke volumes; she acted as if she had us right where she wanted us now. Cressel remained as rude as before, but she was now much more forthcoming.

This Stag Lord is at once more mundane and stranger than some of us had been given to believe. Apparently he is indeed human, allegedly a powerful monster of a man capable of crushing another man's fist in his own. He wears a strange, fearsome mask constantly as well. There is apparently much talk amongst the bandits about what lies underneath it. Cressel says that she suspects the mask is his real face. He is apparently a quite a drunkard as well. In fact, the cart she and our friends lay in at the moment contained several bottles of fine drink they had claimed for him.

At the news of what exactly was in the bottles, Jervik and Viktor suddenly seemed rather thirsty. Viktor retrieved a bottle and excused himself after helping Jervik to another. A good idea, in moderation. It helped with the pain quite a bit.

Cressel went on. The Stag Lord also keeps an old man prisoner underneath his fort. Leo and I shared a worried glance, fearing that the bandits were holding a hostage even as we spoke. The matter became a bit murkier as she continued. The old man was described as strange and frightening. Cressel, as fierce as she is, admitted that she was afraid to go near him.

The Stag Lord is also not very well loved by his men. Cressel claims to not care if he lives or dies at least. She even went so far as to give us a pass phrase to get into the fort. "By the bloody bones of Saint Gilmore. Who wants to know?" I am absolutely perplexed by the context of the phrase. Who knows what sort of thinking these bandits get up to?

We finished taking stock of all of the goods in the cart as well. I - and I must admit the foolish optimism of the question now - asked who the victims of their robbery were, so that we could return what goods we could. Cressel smirked and informed me that she did not know, but she could show us where they were buried.

I do not know why I was surprised. I should not have been. I was also disappointed, but I had myself to blame for that. I had hoped, against reason, that while she had engaged in violent robbery she was not a murderess as well. I do not understand why I have such difficulty with the concept, but the truth lay before me.

I informed her that while I had promised her her life, I said nothing about her freedom. She just continued to smirk as I walked away. Thankfully she passed out just a while later. I hope she remains asleep for quite some time.

Marek and Viktor discussed something quietly near the cart, I think with Jervik, as I left. In my temper I failed to hear the subject of the conversation. I only recall that Marek seemed faintly unsettled.

I was checking my right hoof for cracks after foolishly kicking a rock in frustration when Leo informed me that we while we would be staying at the camp tonight, we should make haste to leave as soon as possible. The other bandit had informed the others that there were others of their band out on hunting trips. None were expected to return tonight or tomorrow, but one never knew for certain. It is just as well. The sooner we return to Oleg's and get these prisoners put away the better.

Viktor has excused himself and his just opened bottle and retired to one of the stands overlooking the camp. Tigtittertug hopped right after him. I think I heard her request that he sing again.

Drowsiness obscures the details of the day. The gentle flow of the river nearby, the cool breeze rustling the treetops above, and the odd rythmic breathing of the three souls resting in the cart at my back, including the slight whistle of the old man, all work to lull me to rest. I hope I can sleep sitting up, for the little dragon's sake. I must retire, I've the final watch.

Iomedae watch over us tonight.


Day 10 - Noon

Perlivash and Tigtittertug were gone when I awoke. I was amazed a slept at all, really, considering Viktor's drunken caterwauling and Tigtittertug's delighted cheers.

I was sad that I was unable to say farewell, but I suppose flightiness is part of their nature. Goddess, what a peculiar day it had been! Our first day in the stolen lands and we've crossed swords with bandits, been attacked by insane kobolds, and have actually met and befriended real fey! It would be just like the old tales Naella and I would listen to if not for the grim realities of our injured and the fresh graves we have left behind.

Even so, this has already proven quite the adventure. I feel revitalized even if my side still aches from yesterday's battle. I am confident that whatever challenges this land holds for us, we can overcome them. I am also certain that there are even more wonders here we've yet to see. I for one am eager to finish our business quickly at Oleg's so that we can set out again, but the wellbeing of our friends and prisoners must be seen to first.

The cart has slowed us some, but we should arrive at Oleg's tonight. We've kept to an easy trail, the very one Theodore led us down, so that those in the cart are not jostled too roughly. All three have come to and passed out again during the trip. The sooner we get them into actual beds, the better.

Leo asked what Viktor and Tigtittertug were doing up in the stand. He had some difficulty sleeping as well, it seems, for the same reasons. Viktor told us that he just humored the cricket girl's request, and that they talked for a time afterwards.

I wonder what they talked about. What conversation I could keep up with Perlivash rather wandered back and forth.

I cannot wait to get back to Oleg's.


Day 10 - Night

We've arrived safely at Oleg's trading post. Things have become complicated.

Night had fallen by the time we approached the post. We had no troubles on our way back, praise the Goddess.

The gate was closed, so we called out to Oleg and Svetlana. To our surprise, an unfamiliar voice answered our call, demanding to know who we were and what our business was. We shared confused glances before Leopold answered that we were the Red Company and that we were returning from our hunt victorious and with prisoners.

The gates opened, and we were greeted a few armed and armored men within the walls of the post. Their leader, a dour, serious looking man named Kestern Garrus, informed us that he and his men had been sent to protect Oleg's trading post and that they had arrived after we left. Leo and I looked to each other with realization then. These were the men Oleg had been expecting.

We were also informed that there were three guests currently in the bunkhouse, so there is precious little room for us this night. We decided to put Jervik and Theodore in the storeroom, with some of us staying with them, and our prisoners in the stable, where the rest of us would keep an eye on them.

This was only a temporary solution for dealing with the two captured bandits, of course. I had assumed the new guardsmen could take care of that issue but when I spoke with Kestern on the matter, he informed me, rather bluntly, that if we wanted to keep them, they were our responsibility. He stated in no uncertain terms that if they are handed over to him, he will simply hang them. I protested, telling him that I had given them my word they would not be killed and that they had cooperated with us. The man's patience was clearly wearing thin, and Marek suggested that I let it go for the night.

And so I wait here, watching over one nervous man who overheard all that was said and a woman who remained unconscious for quite some time and knows not what fate looms over them. I will be speaking to Oleg as soon as possible. I gave my word.

Iomedae grant me the wisdom to do what must be done.

The Exchange

Great stuff, I'm really enjoying this journal. I can't wait to run this on my players.

Silver Crusade

Pathfinder Adventure Path, Starfinder Adventure Path Subscriber

I'm loving the Law/Chaos problem the Paladin is dealing with, it's a dichotomy that's rarely explored in Role Playing.


Day 11 - Afternoon

It is difficult to write this.

We awoke to a busy day. Some of the guardsmen were already at work on what looked to be the beginnings of a small guardhouse. Kestern was occupied with that task at the moment. They had apparently also buried the bandits we slew days earlier, outside the walls of the fort. I was grateful that task had been seen to, at least.

As I waited to speak with Kestern, we examined the posting board outside the store. Two scraps of paper had been placed there during our absense. One requested the hunting of something called a tatzylwyrm. I cannot recall at the moment what for, precisely. Possibly just to remove one more dangerous predator from the vicinity of the trade route. The other had information on a tribe of kobolds in the area that had recently become aggressive. A reward was posted for the task of driving them out of the area or making peace with them. I fear whatever insanity befell the kobolds we saw earlier may very well be the cause of that recent problem.

As I read, one of the guests, a middle-aged man approached me, the look of a rural priest about him. He recognized the symbol hanging from my neck, and whatever hesitation he may have held towards speaking with a tiefling seemed to vanish. In fact, he seemed grateful to have found a fellow servant of a god. He introduced himself as Jhod, a priest of Erastil, the favored god of many in these wild lands. He asked if I was a priest and I explained that while I was not, I was still a servant of Iomedae. It was good enough for him. He asked a favor of me, a reasonable and noble one it turns out. A shrine to Erastil lies somewhere in the area, long abandoned and supposedly haunted by the presense of a strange bear of a questionable nature. He asked if we would be willing to help reclaim the site for the faithful. I assured him that we would indeed do so when we could. Theodore would certainly want the deed done when he found out.

The man's presense was fortuitous. I told him of our wounded friends and requested his assistance, offering compensation for his time and the grace of his god. He happily provided healing for all of us. Theo and Jervik awoke with renewed vigor, and the lingering ache in my side vanished completely.

After our companions were restored, we met with Oleg and Svetlana and told them of our success. He was also willing to buy the spoils of the battle and resupply and order whatever we needed from Restov. The fairies' first prank upon us convinced me that we needed some hired help to assist us. A porter and a guide familiar with the area would certainly prove useful. The others placed their own orders as well. We certainly needed more of the healing potions that Oleg had just restocked. Svetlana drew old Jervik aside for a moment, speaking with him about the radishes he had harvested. Jervik certainly seemed happy with the offer she made.

As I left the store to speak with Kestern again, I saw that the guardsman was already discussing something with Viktor. The tone of their conversation seemed serious. Viktor shook the man's hand afterward. Business of some sort, I suppose.

The other guests were up and about. An old man missing a leg ambled up to Jervik, conversing with him on some matter or other. Svetlana pulled Marek away for a moment, speaking with him quietly. There was a decent bit of chatter about, unfortunately peppered with talk of a possible civil war looming over Brevoy. It was worrying that such rumors should follow us this far from home.

Theo excused himself to take care of the horses. He seems eager to busy himself now that he is back on his feet.

When Kestern was finally free, I brought up the subject of our prisoners. He had made up his mind last night, and nothing I said could sway him. He suggested that they be hanged as they would be in Brevoy. I informed him that our charter had given us leave to execute unrepentant bandits, it did not contain an order to do so. Theodore quietly suggested that the laws of Brevoy did not apply in these lands. Kestern raised his hands, telling us that if that is the case, the prisoners are still our responsibility, and if placed under his charge he will do what he sees fit. We could not simply stay and watch over them. He told us to do with them as we saw fit, either kill them or let them go, they were not his responsibility.

Letting them go was not an option. Certainly not with Cressel. She was far too dangerous. I tried to convince the man to cooperate with us, but Marek firmly suggested that I let it go, that it was not my problem anymore.

I could not simply walk away from it. I had given my word. But they were also too dangerous to go free.

I went to check on our prisoners, trying to work out a solution as I walked.

Cressel was awake and in much better shape. Her wounds had been seen to and she was well on the mend. She asked what we were going to do with them. I informed them that the guardsman outside would see them dead if we left them in his care. She did not seem surprised. She did not seem fearful either. I asked her why she remained so cavalier about her fate. She said that she would figure something out, that she had not counted on my word anyway, that men always lie. I assured her that I do not. She asked what, precisely, I was going to do then. My option of jailing them was denied to me at the time. She suggested, mockingly, that I let them go. The man seemed eager and desperate to second that. I told her that was absolutely not possible.

It went back and forth, and when I could see I was getting nowhere with them I returned to Oleg. The trading post is his property. I hoped the guardsmen would answer to him at least, and that Oleg would listen to me.

Oleg was eager to speak with me until I got the heart of the matter. As soon as I requested that the prisoners be kept secure in one of his buildings, his cheer faded. He was outraged at the request, that I should be so bold as to ask this of him after what they had done these past three months, especially Cressel. She had nearly taken his leg off and had made threats towards his wife.

In truth, I felt ashamed. After all that he and Svetlana had been through, this was much to ask of them. But I was also growing desperate. I told him that I had sworn them their lives, he told me it was not his problem, that bandits should be hanged. That they were far too dangerous to keep on his property. He was worried for Svetlana's safety. I told him of the legal conclusions Theodore and I had come to, and he exploded again. He said that he came to this land to get away from laws and bureaucracy, and there I was attempting to bring it into his home.

I left, crestfallen and at a loss for what to do. I begged Iomedae to guide me, to give me a sign, anything.

I returned to the prisoners. I tried to make them give me something I could use, anything. I even came out and naively asked if they would repent for what they had done. The man blubbered and begged, saying he would do whatever we asked of him. Cressel simply smirked and said "I repent." , throwing my attempt to spare her life back in my face. I warned her of the danger she was in, I trotted out descriptions of what was done with violent thieves in other lands, told her that I was weighing those unpleasant options and still she remained flippant.

I lost my patience. I shouted at her, asking why she seemed to care so little for her fate, why she felt no remorse for what she had done. She calmly answered that she had always lived such a life.

Something in her answer stopped me cold. This woman had never known any other way of living. Would I have turned out like her if it had not been for the kindness of Iomedae's servants? Would my sister? If it had not been for their gift of a new life, we may have become even worse monsters than this woman, as wicked as people like Jervik see our appearance.

I left, returning to Oleg. He was not happy to see me bring up the subject once more. I begged him to reconsider. I appealed to his better nature, to his compassion. I explained my hopes that they might yet make amends for their deeds. Oleg was steadfast. What of their victims, he asked. What mercy did the bandits show them? I told him our mercy was what set us apart from them. He disagreed. He demanded some measure of justice. A balancing of the scales. I pleaded that they might yet be redeemed, that death would only rob them of any opportunity for it and that their deaths were not needed as long as they were our prisoners.

His eyes softened for a moment, and he placed his hand upon my shoulder. It was only then that I realized that my eyes were stinging. My cheeks were wet. He voice softened as he explained that they had to be punished. It was simply how it had to be.

I was truly desperate. I grasped at straws, and I uttered a question before I realized what road I was walking down.

I asked him if he knew of Qadira. I asked him if he knew what was done to thieves in that land.

He seemed ready to protest once more, but now he gave my words consideration. Cressel had tried to take his leg, so she should lose one of her own. It would make her less of a threat. Oleg thought it over, and I began to place all my hopes on that horrible proposal.

Oleg agreed. It was a suitable punishment. It was vengeance enough for him, but he recommended that she lose one of her arms instead. It would do more to make her less of a threat. Then, and only then, would he feel safe enough and be willing to keep her confined in his storeroom. The other bandit could be dealt with as we had dealt with the others.

I thanked him, again and again, telling him that I was forever in his debt for showing them his mercy. I even suggested that eventually indentured servitude might be a possible way for Cressel to fully repay Oleg for the troubles she had caused him, but he adamantly refused. He would hold her prisoner, but he never wants her working for him in any capacity.

I did not press him further. I owed him for his graciousness as it was. I was ready to leave before he asked when I would be performing the deed.

My blood went cold. I had unconsciously assumed Oleg or one of the guardsmen would take care of the matter. Oleg said it was my idea, and that he did not care to give the woman even more reason to hate him just in case she did manage to escape.

I told him I would see to it. It had to be me. I could not distance myself from the act by having someone else do it.

I think I was shaking as I left his store. I asked Iomedae if I was doing what was right, what she expected of me.

My companions were already preparing to leave later in the day. The healing had revitalized all of them, and they were eager to get back to the task of exploration. I passed by them in silence as I returned to the prisoners.

I informed the man that he would go free, that he was to walk north, unarmed, and never return to the area. He was given the same warnings as those before him. What doubts I had about our previous prisoners' sincerity, I had none about this one.

Cressel asked, nonchalantly and flippant as ever, what was to be done with her. I told her. Goddess, I wanted her to be afraid, to show some fear of punishment for the things she had done, instead of that constant veneer of uncaring! It did not seem to bother her at all! I was doing everything I could to spare her life, to at least give her the opportunity to be redeemed. And through it all she simply behaved as if none of it mattered! No, instead I had to fear, to worry, to dread what was coming on her behalf with her smirking the entire time!

Why do I care? Why does her fate bother me so much? Goddess, do I know myself so little that I cannot see the answers to those questions?

Cressel seemed ready to get on with and over. I left to prepare. I needed help.

I hesitantly approached Leopold. I explained the matter to my friend. He was aghast. I expected as much. Telling him what I needed of him did not help matters. Iomedae bless the man though, he agreed to help me. He was sickened by it. I was too. Butchery of this sort, it is different from the heat of battle. But it had to be done. It was the only way to save her life.

He went to get some wine. He said he needed a drink beforehand. He suggested it would be wise to give some to Cressel. I wished I had the option to do so myself, but my hand had to be steady.

I sought out Jhod, and asked him if he could help. Magical healing would be needed to be certain Cressel survived. He seemed willing to until I explained precisely what I needed help for. His reaction was more visceral than I could have expected. He refused to have anything to do with it, with our laws and our doling out of punishment. I knew it would not be a pleasant matter, but I had not imagined he would be so upset.

I returned to Oleg instead, to buy one of the new healing potions. He asked me if I was certain I did not want to save it for someone more deserving. He implied myself, specifically. I thanked him for his concern, but I had to use it on Cressel to ensure her survival.

I checked my blade once more, sharpening it, ensuring that there were no nicks, no cruel imperfections that could make the cut any less clean. The sword that led me to Iomedae's service was as sharp and clean as ever.

It sickened me to use it like this.

Leo and I led Cressel behind the stables. The woman was still fearless. Leo held her hand and tightly drew her arm over one of the logs the guardsmen would be using in their construction. I gave Cressel a stick, placing it in her mouth and telling her to keep it held tightly over her tongue.

I asked her to steel herself. She nodded, her eyes daring me to just get it over with. I think Leo looked away. I wish I could have.

I raised my sword. I steadied my hand. I aimed just above her elbow. Not enough would be left for her to ever use that arm offensively again. And I swung.

Goddess, the sound. It came away cleanly, and with it, all of the bravado, the confidence, the flippancy, the uncaring attitude, all of it washed away as Cressel thrashed and screamed in Leo's arms. I hurriedly forced her to drink the potion. The wound healed over immediately, skin now covering where her arm was once whole.

Still she screamed. She screamed in disbelief that I had actually done it. She screamed for Leo to take her away from me. All through tears and sobs I had come to never expect from her.

I could only stand there in shock, saying that I was sorry, that it was the only way. I know not if I even managed to voice the words as Leo replaced her manacles, placing them differently now along with rope, now that she only had one

It is hard to write.

I was still standing there when Leo returned after securing her in the storeroom. I could still hear her weeping. I'm not sure how long he stood there waiting for me to answer, before realizing he was there.

He asked me what we were going to do with it. I looked down and could not take my eyes away from it. What I had done was laid bare in full, right there. So much like the childish offering I had left before the altar of Iomedae so many years ago. I had not even thought about it. What does one do with such things? Should we bury it? Burn it?

I asked Leo if he knew of any magic that could eventually reattatch it. He thought for a bit, and said that such magic did exist. Perhaps, if Cressel's life can be turned around, she can be restored. But what would we do with it in the meantime? I tried to distance myself, to treat it clinically. I suggested that salting or pickling it might preserve it before realizing again what I was speaking of, the absurdity of it made it all the more horrible. Leo told me that there were magics that could heal her without needing to keep it. He told me to go. That he would handle it. The others were waiting for us outside the post's walls.

Goddess forgive me. Have I done what is right?


There is certainly a lot there in that entry. Very powerful. Good job.

I am very interested in how the prisoner-Kressel is developed over the course of your adventures. If she escapes and wreaks havoc, if she escapes and runs, if she escapes and dies, if she repents (not likely), if she is the first inhabitant of a new jail, etc.

Silver Crusade

Pathfinder Adventure Path, Starfinder Adventure Path Subscriber

Wow Mikaze, that was intense.

The above is THE reason to play a paladin.


Wow, amazing. I have never seen a Paladin played that way. Really good stuff.

Sovereign Court

I also really enjoyed this latest entry. That is some beautiful role-playing. It's nice to read a story about real hero for a change.

Sovereign Court

Liath Samathran wrote:


She cursed us, and cut into both Theo and myself. Theo had already been wounded, and her strike put him down quickly, still alive thankfully. I nearly fell as well. The blow she had dealt me had taken the wind out of me, and the burning gash in my side did not help matters much either. It was obvious then that trying to subdue her gently would likely get all of us killed.

Thank you for trying to spare my pride, Liath. But the truth is I fell to one of her wretched henchmen.

He struck me from behind while I was fully concentrated on fending off her attacks. During my training, I learned much about the cowardly tactics of bandits, and should have done a better job at watching my back.


Theodore Mist wrote:


Thank you for trying to spare my pride, Liath. But the truth is I fell to one of her wretched henchmen.

He struck me from behind while I was fully concentrated on fending off her attacks. During my training, I learned much about the cowardly tactics of bandits, and should have done a better job at watching my back.

Cowardly, but effective, Theo. Remember that part of it, not all of our enemies will attack us head on, one at a time. I guess what I'm saying is you really should be careful about all that running in first stuff that you do.


Theodore Mist wrote:


Thank you for trying to spare my pride, Liath. But the truth is I fell to one of her wretched henchmen.

He struck me from behind while I was fully concentrated on fending off her attacks. During my training, I learned much about the cowardly tactics of bandits, and should have done a better job at watching my back.

My apologies. The details become blurred in the heat of battle, I'm afraid.

And in the days between the game and the writing! ;)

Silver Crusade

Thanks guys.

Never played a paladin before this. Wanted to for a long time, but I never got around to it. I'm not sure if this is setting the tone or if it's just getting a good chunk of Paladin Dilemma out of the way early on, but it's been good fun!


Day 11 - Night

We have finished the day's travels, and are now camping southeast of the trading post. Viktor and I are sharing the watch at this moment.

The rest of the day has been mostly uneventful save for one exception. It is just as well.

After leaving the trading post, we returned to the patch where we encountered the kobolds. Jervik was disappointed to find that someone had seemingly pulled up all of the radishes he left behind. I assume more of the kobolds came through the area. It is troubling to know that they're coming so close to Oleg and Svetlana's home. It is good then that the new guards will be keeping watch over the place.

We continued on, mapping out the area as well as we could and then heading eastward over the grasslands. As we travelled we shared some of what we had learned this morning.

Theodore is eager to see to the reclamation of a temple of Erastil. I hope to aid him as well as I can, but I wonder how such a place will be maintained with no communities to speak of in the area. I suppose some druids may venerate the hunting god, but I know little of their ways.

Viktor had been approached on the matter of a deserter from a mercenary company in Brevoy, one who absconded with much of the group's funds. There is a reward for the man's capture, but I have doubts we will ever find him. If he has indeed fled to these lands, he is likely to be found in a shallow grave or in the leavings of some of the larger predators in the area.

Marek told us that Svetlana had a personal request; her wedding ring had been taken by the bandits we had defeated. I wish we had known earlier, but even so I do not recall finding such a ring on any of the bandits we slew or apprehended. When we return, I will try to speak to Cressel on the matter. If she will even listen.

I cannot keep my thoughts from returning to her. To say that this will be difficult is almost laughable in its obviousness. I've no doubt that she hates us, now more than ever. That is no excuse to give up though. I have to reach out ot her. Someone has to offer her the chance that Naella and I were given.

Goddess, I hope she will listen, but after what I have done I know she will want nothing to do with me. Even now my stomach turns at the memory.

Jervik told us of the man that had spoken with him. The old hunter had told him a tale of a huge, fierce boar in the area named Tuskgutter by the locals. This same boar had taken the old man's leg, and understandably wished to see the animal put down. Jervik was telling us the details with all the expected folksy embellishments that I am never certain whether or not to take at face value when all of a sudden we were set upon by three boars charging out of the brush. The irony was not lost on us.

Before I could even spur my horse forward, the old man threw out his hand and muttered something in that thick, impenetrable accent. Two of the boars fell, skidding to a stop and sleeping where they lay. Not even a second later, Theodore drew an arrow, took aim, and sent it flying right into the remaining boar's eye. I had never seen such a shot.

Theo was all smiles, and with good reason. He thanked Erastil for blessing us with such a generous bounty of food as I dismounted to quickly kill the others before they awoke. One for the heart, both times, as Iomedae teaches. I must admit, Old Deadeye does seem to be favoring us with easy meals and fair weather thus far. I think we should see to finding this temple soon. It could only be good for the area.

We have made camp on that very spot. Cleaning the meat is no quick, or pleasant, task. Even so, it is soothing out here in the wild.

I wish Naella were here to see it. I wish she were here to give me guidance. I cannot help but think that she would know what to do with Cressel, that she would know what to say.

I think I will write to her tonight. I wish to tell of her of what we have seen, of this land's wonders and the people we have met. Besides the bandits and insane kobolds, we have not really run into any real dangers save these angry boars. And I doubt that there is much more here so close to edge of the wild that would pose serio

The page is marked by grass stains and faint spatterings of red.

Silver Crusade

Pathfinder Adventure Path, Starfinder Adventure Path Subscriber

Ruh roh.


DM_aka_Dudemeister wrote:
Ruh roh.

You got that right, Scooby!

Sovereign Court

Will the last sentence fragment in the journal qualify as "famous last words"? ;)

(I hope not)


On the next page, in a different handwriting with more of a flourish to it.

I write this as our dear friend, Liath, was attacked while on watch. While the group was sleeping, he and Viktor were on watch shift. One of the dangers, you see, is the wildlife. A particularly angry, dog-like creature crept from the forest and attacked (Or so I'm told. Much to my shame, I was soundly sleeping and didn't rouse until the damage was done). Liath was struck down, not by sword and deed, but by a simple wild beast looking for easy prey. It found a bit more than it could take, as we felled it, but Liath had dropped into unconciousness. Poor guy, I felt terrible that it happened while I slept, but it cannot be helped as what's done is done.

We got Liath reclined as he'd dropped into a deep slumber, waking only occasionally. It was just before dawn when the foul deed happened, and I ordered a camp break at first light. We've created a litter for him and have started down the path back to the Trading Post to get him some medical attention. We've hours left to finish exploring this particular area, but it would be cruel to let our friend suffer. We'll have to return later to map out the area.

-Leopold Renault Orlavsky

Silver Crusade

Pathfinder Adventure Path, Starfinder Adventure Path Subscriber

Thank goodness!
The suspense was killing me!

Liberty's Edge

Pathfinder Starfinder Roleplaying Game Subscriber

Yikes I was wondering what happened there... Its never easy being a Paladin. Very well done really enjoyed reading all this. :)

Hopefully he recovers alright >.>;;;;

Hoping to start this adventure soon as well but seriously lacking players where I live ^^;

But none the less Good Luck and don't die T.T or else they're may be a riot occurring shortly after.


Scrawl onto paper scavenged from Olegs writing desk, with pilfered ink, and quill while the guards cleaned and swept the tiny room in Olegs house where they keep her locked.

The writing is poor and nearly illegible as if written by a person using an untrained hand.

HATE THE DEMONSPAWN KNIGHT! THINKS HE KNOWS HOW IT IS. THINKS HE'S RIGHTEOUS IN CUTTING MY HAND OFF! IF I CAN'T PRACTICE WITH MY AXE I WILL PRACTICE WITH THIS QUILL PERHAPS IT WILL HELP MY AIM WHEN I STEAL A WEAPON AND BURY IT BETWEEN HIS EYES.

This is Talbane I'm GMing the game and thought I would give Liath some insight into Kressle as I know he can handle a little out of character knowledge by posting some of her efforts at recovery here.

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