Category: RPG


9th day, 2nd ride, March, 1372 DR

We walked. I took point. We were forced to stop after about six hours because Roland wasn’t able to continue any longer. We decided to start sleeping early and travel by night.

Dead Zhents

10th day, 2nd ride, March, 1372 DR

I was woken by Abel around two hours after midnight. We spoke a bit on guerilla warfare and its tactics. After we walked for a few hours we stumbled upon twelve men – Human, Orc and Half-Orc – whose badly mutilated bodies were crucified in the middle of the forest, on display, like grotesque scare-crows. Three of them showed signs of old scars and badly set broken bones, indicating, to me, their martial history. The rest looked like workers and craftsmen. I thought at first that the smell of rotting flesh were the signs of the undead. With Abaddon’s guidance that was quickly disproven as I felt no signs of the Restless.

The bodies were about two days beyond death. Strange how Zhentarim woodsmen seem to have been logging for wood three days from the Flaming Tower. We couldn’t find any signs of attackers, but the wounds didn’t seem clean or precise.


10th day, 1st ride, March, 1372 DR

I finally reached Daggerdale, and I have a room at the Teshford Arms, just outside the city, across the river. It’s run by a woman called Olavia, who charges a ridiculous one gold piece per day. Abaddon give me strength!

I talked to a Sembian called Roland, and a Cormyrian sorceror named Abel, they are new in town as well. The three of us are going to find work at the garisson tomorrow.


9th day, 3rd ride, March, 1372 DR

The other day we had a small discussion about age, while on the road. It became quite obvious to me that both Roland as well as Abel thought me far older than I really am. I was born in the Year of the Boot, 1343 DR, making me almost 29 years old today. They both thought me old, pushing my fourth decade. I lied to them and told them I was thirty-six. The weather in my country isn’t as fair as it is in theirs, nor have they lived in such troubling times, with war and famine and the undead walking the land, at the call of a terrible foe. I must not judge them.

By a Bare Thread

8th day, 3rd ride, March, 1372 DR

Nice, stormy weather rolled in after mid-night. Up until then it was quiet and uneventful. Abel still wasn’t talking much.

After a couple of hours Roland started to lag behind again. Abel was completely unresponsive and I had to act fast. I tried to get Roland to catch up but I saw his strength was spent. I knew then that I was ready. I offered up a prayer, out loud, for help, asking Abaddon to strengthen my companion. Surprisingly enough, Roland straightened his back, quickened his step, regained his composure and even offered thanks to Abaddon.

When the sun came up we moved off the road and both Abel and Roland collapsed. I covered them with their blankets, barely enough strength of my own to manage that, but there was no choice but to take watch. I wasn’t certain that I’d stay awake through all of this, so I took to an old trick I learnt from the Dwarves in Ironspur; stucking a dagger into your thigh.

After a few hours Abel woke me, I think. It’s all vague, I just remember him guiding me for God knows how long to a lovely fire. I think Roland was there, too. I was so damned tired. Abaddon give me strength!

I woke up in the late afternoon to the smell of a nice herbal soup. Not exactly filling, but at least it was warm enough to thaw out my limbs. Roland went to sleep after telling me Abel wanted to take a day of rest. I didn’t agree; every day we spend out here is one where we’ll lose energy and resolve, even if we do spend a day in rest we’ll be more tired by the end of it. At dusk, I woke them both with soup. Ten minutes later we were on the road again. I was very impressed by them. Hell, I was very impressed by myself, too.