Forward Into Danger

Missive To Auric II

A subpoena has imprisoned us in this burg for two more days — apparently, these plebeians are only content with murdering their fellow citizens after a thorough series of theatrics. The fact that they’ve given the brigands nothing to aspire to but strong-arms or field hands is lost on them. Even a modicum of real culture here could revolutionize their society. Perhaps I’ll abandon my lot and become Ulundo The Farter, Flatulist To The King. I’ve no doubt they would parade me about the kingdom as cultural touchstone. 

While we we’re waiting, the party was able to take up a task for the Human and Dwarf’s aquaintance, who is colloquially known as “Painter;” though I’ve yet to see any of his artwork. I briefly asked him his opinions of the venerable works of Alceedo, only to be met with a blank stare. There’s a chance that his name is an ironic twist on his lack of artistic prowess, human humor is still lost on me. 

We were to seek out an impromptu burial site for a decorated paladin. Much to my chagrin, we were not retrieving his remains for a proper funeral. Instead we were to loot his corpse and divide the wealth. Hurmph! 

The halfling assisted in plotting our corse, and among the human, halfling and dwarf, I’d be reluctant to trust that they could trace the route betwixt their scrotum and their sphincter. The simple side quest had us waylaid by the undead and trudging through muddy, dense forests. 

To his credit, when the dwarf isn’t inebriated or cursing, he’s a capable fighter and a scourge to the undead. If the hirsute race ever sobers up, we may have a real threat on our hands. 

- U

Missive To Auric I

I’ve found a small adventuring party with whom to explore the Empire. They suspect nothing, as I have deftly assimilated myself to local culture. The humans seem to respect boorish japes and insults over a beautiful soliloquy. I dare say, I saw a group of them lilting and belching like a herd of cattle. As such, I’ve taken to insulting and critiquing their customs whenever possible to endear myself.

Another Elf has joined our fellowship, though it appears he has all of these troglodytes tricked into thinking he’s a human! As if his light gait and subtle supraorbital ridge weren’t a dead give away: Absurd! I believe the Humans can literally only discern an Elf by the ears. It’s no wonder they still view anything non-divine… Well, I digress. Suffice it to say, it’s a wonder they can even read a scroll and balance their humors, forget commanding the elements. I hope to learn much more from this Elf, Tannin — he plays the humans like a bard to a lute. However, the man has been assessing the weight of my purse when he thinks I’m not aware. I’ve taken to stashing my gold in my boot.

As for the Human’s culinary expertise, I suspect that they possess an inferior tongue. The head chef at the local tavern has developed a sour dough recipe that uses flour mixed with rat feces and roach eggs risen with left over brewer’s yeast! As I was the only patron off put by the house recipe, I put on my best face and devoured what I was given, even asking for seconds to seal the ruse. Their local brews tasted of moldy barrels and stagnant water, yet they guzzled the grog like it was an antidote to one of their venereal diseases.

We dispatched of some local brigands, through a lead that Tannin (the Elf) was able produce. Watching him manipulate the conversation was astounding. Did you know that Humans prefer to negotiate while unkempt and filthy? I offered to presidigitate my new friend before beginning his parlay. He denied my offering and the Human seemed to PREFER it. Why, I’m sure I was flush with embarrassment during the entire ordeal, but nary a local noticed — the tips of my ears must have been as scarlet as a tulip!

The brigands were merely paper tigers; two even feel asleep mid battle. No doubt they typified the drunk, lazy human. If we were to conquer this land, I’m beginning to think a couple of initiates with a dire badger could topple their entire regime within a fortnight.


Arrival at Faetan and Clanless

Well The eastern frontier and farming are far behind me now, Liss is in her 30s now and started wondering to much why I still looked like i did when she was a child, it was time. I met an interesting war veteran named Wade in the capitol, he was traveling east with an odd elven wizard and mentioned that roads are safer in groups.

On the road, Wade mentioned a job escorting a halfling noble back to the dwarven homeland, while I was just in that part of the country it may be a worth while journey. It may be time for me to do a life as a caravan guard or other lawful traveler, While the crafts were interesting I feel as my previous sedentary lives did not lend to me experiencing as much as I could, I was to worried about keeping my disguise, perhaps the road can aid that as who thinks about the guard they hired for a month or the traveler who passes through an inn every few weeks. At least for now it will let me be more aware as the last corporal and private from the 4th Company, 6th legion of Dol Dorn I have still not been able to locate.

While we were waiting for the rich short folk Wade ran into an old friend, a dwarven smith named Kamen, who seems to be some form of traveling holy man. I was able to overhear a stable boy’s lament on missing military horses and offered to look into this for a reward upon the horses return (oddly enough I did not get any official reward potions for Wade and spell ink for Ugly, but the sack of silver from the thieves accomplice will suffice) and the three of us and Wade’s dwarven friend dispatched of the clanless effortlessly, mostly thanks to Wade.

Wade’s friend painter also has us going to an old Menhir grave, supposedly a buried paladin in full kit, which was always extravagant, supposedly unmolested from around the time of Bloody Summer. I do not know what deal he struck with the man but he seems somewhat shifty but good to his word for now, and luckily for us, he is the quartermaster for the army and while not indebted to us, owes us for the return of such a large amount of Rathen war horses.


On Wade: He seems to have been an X career Sergent in the Rathen army, he refuses to talk about the war so I can only assume that he did or saw things that he regrets. I don’t think he recognizes me but I believe I worked with his unit during bloody summer for a bit as a scout right before I took care of the Menhirith corporal from the raid, but I don’t think I said a word to him during that time so it is understandable (and good as I have changed my appearance so that seems to be working). His martial ability is staggering, He took down four clanless including a cleric in the time it took me to handle only 1. It is almost art to see his by the numbers use of his kit, if I grace and efficiency where made into a killing art Wade could earn a weight of gold in its execution.

On Ugly Ulundo: I doubt the humans understand his name, but it is apt. With his rather odd face (like a weathered human with an elf frame) he seems to have never dealt with people, I wonder if his master locked him in a library and then shooed him into the human world when he ran out of books on useless topics. While it is odd to see a trained elven wizard I doubt his being in human lands has any ulterior motives, he left because he had to, so i respect that but I will still keep a keen eye on him. His knowledge of useless facts may only be rivaled by his idea that sharing these will impress or ingratiate others to him. He seems to be a summoner, his choice of a dire rat was a bit unnerving as he had it rip the neck open of an ensorcered clanless man.

On Kamen: A stout dwarf, he seems to venerate the god Moredin, but most especially his role as the craftsmen, He is awkward and clumsy even for a dwarf, I doubt he is one of the famed battle clerics I have heard of, but he seems well meaning enough and I believe has decided to return to his homeland with us. From his performance at the clanless camp, it seems that he is much more of a caster, wielding the power of his god directly as opposed to augmenting himself and swinging axe or hammer.

Frontier Justice
Overheard in the Silent Cartographer...

“Arik, did ya’ hear about Ooryg, the fat-faced brick-carrier, aways sittin’ at the small table by himself? Arrested by that ex-army sergeant and his friends, and I hear Konin that dwarf smith was with them too.

What’s that Arik? Oh, you know the crime for stealin’ horseflesh is swinging, ever since Alfred ruled that stealin’ military property is considered high treason, and punishable by death. There’ll be no sailing for that man, if I had to lay a bet. No, I don’t know what happened to his Clanless partner. Hear tell that those outta towners tracked them over rough ground and through water, killed ’em all dead at night, except the one they saved to peg Ooryg for a thief. Smart lot, those boys.

‘Course, the milita would have spent a tenday bumbling through the woods, most likely woulda gotten themselves killed in the process. Honest boys, but not veterans from the Wars of Pacification like me and you. Tough days, those were…beating on the Clanless and burning villages. Let’s have another drink, and talk about that…"


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