Up the River

This was an interesting day. We were accosted in the street by a young boy who seemed drawn to our cleric, Geldon. I don't understand why everyone is so drawn to him, but even I sense the attraction. He is nothing like the great Atherton, who spoke of the "endearing wonderment of the ascendant mind."

We met the Lord Mayor of Bywater, who seems a petty figure in a bland drama. But there is coin in his purse, and a willingness to part with it that is commendable to us. It seems his aim went awry in mistaking us for another band of Players who've been making a name for themselves in these parts. "Chewing the suckling tit too harshly," as the great Atherton was wont to say.

We made our way to the edge of town to pick up our wagon of supplies and begin our journey. It nearly ended our quest at its inception. We realized something was amiss, as no one was around to meet us as communicated. We approached the ajar entrance, and were met with a crash, and following oath and silencing command. Our hackles were raised!

What followed may have gone better with hindsight. In the wisdom of Atherton, "tread softly in the darkness, lest the light bite." We boldly crashed another entrance and interrupted a theft in progress. Their nefarious greed gave us the edge on action and we dealt them blows they couldn't return.

There were tense moments as we made our way through crowded stacks of goods and won the day, but win we did. But as Atherton himself always said, "winning dreams see no empty ways." It was a challenging fight, and we moved uncertainly with the test, but victory was ours at day's end.

After reporting what we'd learned regarding the Riflers to the city guard, confirming their ideas somewhat, we continued to Wendell to ensure all was well and trade able to move effectively again. We stayed at the Meeting House, and learned there were more factors in play than just the Riflers. There was a hunter at the inn cleaning a wolf pelt he'd found on a trail into the Wyvern Vale. Tuffy glanced at the carcass and declared the arrows used to slay it were gnoll arrows. We learned of the demonic gnolls at the temple where I studied, demonic beasts of terror and horror.

We made plans with Gareth, the hunter, to travel to the glen where he'd found the body in the morning. There are two other guest here at the inn tonight, Mavis and Terrence. I noticed Terrance speaking with Ildebrun at one point in the evening, but he seemed to keep to himself most of the night. There is something mysterious about him and the way he held himself apart from the festivities of the evening. He reminds me of the temple elders - watching, always watching.

Mavis was a real delight! She is a merchant traveling the river to get behind the mystery of the bandits too. She was everywhere all night, talking with everyone, laughing, buying drinks - the life of the party. She seemed really interested in everything we'd found out about the Riflers and their foiled attempt at robbing the Warehouse. There was palpable shock on her face as we related our tale. She must really feel for the merchants and their losses.

My watch is nearly over, and I'm ready to wake Tehc, our new companion, for his shift. He arrived late in the evening with a message for Attila to return to his order for a special mission, but agreed to travel with us in his place. He's an affable fellow, rakishly decked out with a bugle and flat hat, but sure loves his food! He seems to carry a bag of apples with him. Well, time to pass off the watch and get some much needed rest. As Atherton always says, "there's no sleep like the big sleep."

Tales of the Strange Companions

And it came to pass, that while they the companions were inside the mine, certain orcs had found and stolen their horses. When they emerged once more upon the hillside, they espied the monsters leading their animals away across the moor. They reacted with dismay, and with dispatch set out after the creatures, following then across the moor. The orcs took no special care in their movements, and so the companions remained on their trail without disclosing their presence.

At least they came to a place where the winding track led through the bogs and scrub of the moors, and a small, ruined house rose from the ground. There, they discovered one of their horses, being led about by one of the orcs. The companions, remaining unseen by the orc, did creep forward so to spring upon him unawares, in which they were successful, but they roused the others of his band. One in the ruins let off a blast of a horn; another, brandishing a large staff carved with the foul and cruel face of the orcs abominable god, charged, howling, from the ruins, to attack them. As they closed with these orcs to give them battle, a third monster commenced loosing arrows from another small ruined outbouse. And as the battle was joined, more orcs, including their captain and champion, came charging across the moors, roaring their hatred as they swung their great swords and axes above their heads.

A terrible fight ensued. The orc shaman brought down curses, and flying magical weapons that rained blows upon the companions, but Sister Clair confounded the monster by summoning a magical quarterstaff of her own with which to belabor him. Inky, Bono and Angus came to blows with the monsters, with their captain and champion, and the two sides rained blows upon one another most terribly. But the companions had grown in strength, and their magical powers and martial skills told in the end, and they wore the orcs down, slowly bringing them to defeat. The creatures, bred for war and murder, would never surrender - they fought on with desperate redoubled efforts, but to no avail. The companions did triumph, and held the field.

And so did their mission end. They found and retrieved their horses, with some difficulty, and after resting in a secure place, they set out once more back to Whelker’s Deep in the morning. At the Gypsy Arms they were received with great rejoicing. The regulars at the tavern had taken them as their own, and were bragging about their exploits as thought hey had shared in the companions’ dangers themselves. The next day, they rode on and spoke with the McGuffin family. They brought to them the relics of Black Bart, and the proofs of his identity provided by the mysterious half-elf Quarrel, and the family thanked them most effusively for their service. “We know,” they said, “that our beloved son has been avenged; would that the cruel killers could have come to meet their end at the hands of a judge and hangman, but knowing they have been destroyed is, itself, a small comfort.” Thus they provided the 500 pounds they had promised, and after examining the other relics of the adventure the companions had brought, told them to keep them for themselves. The wand in particular, they said they could not take: “Young Trevor studied the magical arts against our wishes and advice; the trappings of that magical life he led can only cause us pain, for had he not chosen such a disreputable path, he would not have met the terrible end he met. You will find uses for them that we cannot, and so we grant them to you, and ask only that you continue to serve the cause of justice, in your small way, as you have served the cause of Trevor’s justice.”

But when the companions did seek the reward offered by the town for the capture or death of Black Bart, they were rudely rebuffed. They met with the steward Hamish the Gray, who looked over the proofs of Black Bart’s identity and refused to accept them. “This leg could belong to anyone,” he said, and though Bono and Milo (who were the companion’s spokesmen) showed tghe signs the half-elf had revealed to them, the steward refused to be persuaded. “Where is this half-elf?” he asked. “How did he know so much about Black Bertrand? No - this is hardly proof that you have found Black Bart himself - this could be anyone’s leg; you could have gotten these other signs from the man himself. No, I cannot pay you based on this.”

And so they were rebuffed in their attempt to gain the other half of their expected reward, and retreated to the Gypsy Arms, to consider their next actions. And there, they heard most disturbing talk. Their friends there (Young Davy, Joe, Cap’n Will, Shelf the dwarf) told them that there were stories circulating in town, that they had defrauded the McGuffin family with the leg of some unknown unfortunate. There were whispers that they had let associates of Black Bart go in exchange for information. There was even one particularly noisome tale that they had conspired with the outlaw chief himself to pass off the leg of an unfortunate underling as his own, so that he could collect the reward for himself. And as they listened to these tales, the companions grew more and mor
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