Category: RPG

Hitting Upon Interesting Times

8th day, 2nd ride, March, 1372 DR

So far, so good. I took a bath in the stream, which was freezing, but refreshing (and necesary!) I undressed a little way from camp, I don’t like to explain myself, and definitely not about things I’m not particularly proud of, like scars, burnmarks and tattoos.

An hour and a half into our journey our streak of luck changed; two days with no problems at 2gp a day was too good to be true.

The clearing smelled of ash and burnt meat. Seven or eight humans, all men, foresters loyal to Daggerfalls, were rushed and overwhelmed by Humans and Orcs who wielded magic. Abel purged himself of his breakfast as he saw the mutilated bodies, and decided to dig a grave. Thorim decided to help him because it was “the right thing to do.” We burn our dead because the ground is usually too frozen to bury them, and, well, because during the Great War you were never really sure whether they would stay down.

We decided, after much protest from Abel, to track the group responsible for the massacre. Two hours, due east, we found Centaur tracks (unshodded horse hooves) that hit upon the raider tracks. It was decided to continue and follow the two sets of tracks. After another hour we briefly stopped for a short rest only to continue, double-time.

At dusk we found that the Centaur tracks left the raider tracks. An hour after that, past sundown, we stumbled upon their camp. Roland crept closer and Abel and I moved down towards the river to mask the sound of our approach. Something went wrong with Thorim and Roland, because their approach was quickly discovered.

Our opposition consisted fo four Orc warriors, lead by a Human sergeant and a mage. The Orcs ran into the woods towards Thorim and Roland, while Abel and I were left with the two Humans. With Abel’s arcane powers and Abaddon’s furious might we quickly killed the warrior and sent the mage running…right into the arrows of what I can only assume were Centaur archers.

Thorim made short work of the Orcs; he is truly a formidable soldier. How Roland made himself useful, I do not know, nor car e, about. One Orc was left alive and semi-conscious for interrogation. Roland leaned on the Orc and he revealed the leader of the Flaming Tower to be a man named Gunmar. He also said there were many “shamans” and that they could fly.

Then Roland slit his throat.

We continued on along the river until midnight, and made camp in the woods. I spent some time in communion with Abaddon, cleansing and healing myself, purging myself of my sin, and re-aligning myself with Abaddon’s direction.


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.