Maissen: Shades of Grey [UPDATE 12/12, post 199]
- Thread starter Beale Knight
- Start date
Beale Knight
First Post
01 - 06 Freedom and Dinner
The mayor’s guards cleared a path through the crowd, as Portis led the four to his ferry. They were almost there when Bessie came to an abrupt halt.
“Jimmy!”
Ren slapped his forehead. “And the rest of our gear.”
Madge was exhausted, so Ren and Bessie made their way back to the camp. They returned only a few minutes later, leading the goat and wagon full of supplies. These were slowly loaded onto the mayor’s canopied ferry, and then the other, including Anna and her child, hopped on. There was a last burst of cheers as the ferry pulled away.
“Well they seem to like us,” Bessie said.
“OF course they do,” Portis said. “Heroism is to be admired, and what you did was admirably heroic!”
Madge, now wrapped under a blanket to stave off the chills, said, “We did what any decent people should have done.”
“And THAT,” Portis said with a point of his finger, “is what makes you the heroes. You did it. They didn’t.”
The ferry lurched, sending everyone grabbing for something.
“Choppy river,” the ferryman said, “keep hold ‘till we get across.”
The rest of the ride across the river passed in general quiet, except for the ferryman’s complaints and curses to the river. When they landed, Portis arraigned for a team of servants take Jimmy to a stable, and sent a runner up to tell his cook to ready a dinner for five.
As the boy left on that errand, the mayor pointed toward the center of town. “My house is this way. You can’t see it for the weather, but it isn’t far.”
It wasn’t far but it was up hill most of the way. To his credit, the mayor walked right beside the others, Anne and her child included. Ren had a hard time imagining the mayor of Vaunth-on-the-Lake doing the same. He was growing very fond of the man already, but then Portis said something that nearly reversed his opinion entirely.
He’d been talking the entire way up the hill, but Ren hadn’t paid close attention since the fifth time he reiterated how they were heroes. But then he heard Portis say slave.
“What was that?” he asked the mayor.
“I was telling Madge,” Portis said, “that in gratitude for rescuing my slaves, I’d like to give them to her.”
Instantly Madge said, “I accept.”
Ren glared at her. She narrowed her eyes at him and gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
Ren bit at his lip. He had just seen Madge dive into a cold river to save a child. He’d seen her fight mercilessly against wolves to save a stranger and heard her rail against the most pompous leaders of Vaunth-on-the-Lake. He could at least give a chance to explain herself, that seemed all she was silently asking. Ren softened his glare and nodded back at her.
They were crossing the gate into Portis' home now, a surprisingly simple two story building of stone. The group was met at the door by an aged woman and the boy that had been sent ahead. Anne disappeared with her child, returning a moment later empty handed. “She’s fast asleep,” she said. Anne helped to take the cloaks to dry and the older woman announced that dinner would be served within the hour.
"Thank you, Glatelle," Portis said as he shuffed off his own cloak and handed it to her. He led the others up a set of stairs and into a large room. A fire was already roaring in the hearth, there were thick bedrolls spread out, and pillows everywhere. A low table in the center of the room held bowls of fruit, a small keg and mugs, and a taller one in the corner had a large bowl, real soap, and a large water pitcher. Towels were neatly stacked on a lower shelf.
“Here you will be my guests,” Portis said. He bowed politely to them. “I leave you to freshen up. Glatelle will knock when dinner is served. I will see you then.”
As soon as the door closed, Killian put a hand to his ear. “That sound! I remember it. ‘tis quiet!”
Bessie chuckled. Ren might have but he was far too concerned with hearing what Madge had to say. She knew it. The ranger looked to him and held up a single finger. Then she turned to Anne.
“Anne, what did you do before you were a slave?” Madge asked.
The slave looked a little startled. This seemed to be the last sort of thing she expected to be asked by a new master. She stammered a moment before saying, “I was a herbist, before my husband died.”
“A healer?” Bessie asked, a tone of astonishment in her voice.
Anne shook her head. “Nothing so grand,” she said. “I just grew herbs. Though there were some healers that bought them, a few bakers and cooks too. I did well for awhile, but…” Her face fell and she took a long breath. “…then my crop got tainted. That was the same year Mel died. People got to thinking I was cursed. Then from there it just….”
Madge reached out to take Anne’s hand. “I understand.” She gave Anne a moment and then asked, “Would you like to go back to that?”
Suddenly Ren broke into a wide smile. He saw where Madge was going with this. And he whole heartedly approved.
Anne blinked at the ranger. “I…I…yes, but how?”
“I’ll give you your freedom and you can return to being an herbist.”
Tears began to well up in Anne’s eyes. She threw herself against Madge and embraced her. “Thank you – oh thank you,” she cried. Then she stiffened and sat back. “No. There isn’t a way. Even free I wouldn’t be able to?’
Bessie cocked her head. “Why not?”
“It’d take more money than I’ve been able to save up,” Anne answered. “Much, much more.”
“How much more?” Ren asked.
Anne spread her fingers over her chin as she thought. “I’m not sure. There’s rent payments, supplies, I’d earn nothing as the first crop grew, and….”
“Just a general guess,” Madge said. “Ten gold to get started? Twenty…”
Anne gasped. “Gold? With ten gold I could go a season. More maybe.”
Ren started digging into his money pouch. Bessie and Madge were doing the same. “Here’s five,” he said, putting the gold onto the low table. Popa Thorson had given each of them a starting allowance, and he’d been conservative with his. He could be generous and still have a few gold left over. There’d be no use for them in the wild anyway.
“Seven here,” Bessie said.
“And I’ve five more,” Madge said.
Anne’s eyes were wide as saucers as she gaped at the pile of coins. The others’ eyes were on Killian.
“All right,” he said. “Three more for an even twenty,” he said as he pulled out the gold. “But I’ll want some good flavored bread when we come back around this way.” His voice was gruff, but he couldn’t hide the smile.
Anne broke down in a fit of joyful sobbing then and there.
Dinner was as elegant as Popa Thorson had served them earlier in the week. Portis was indifferent to the news that Madge had freed Anne. He moved straight on to a new topic.
“What brings you to fair Kern?”
Bessie and Madge exchanged glances. Killian continued to eat. Ren let the silence hang for a three count and then spoke up. “Heading to Maissen the city.”
“Ah,” Portis said. “A wonderful place Maissen. Huge. Some of everything a man, or woman, could want. Are you trading?”
Ren shook his head and swallowed a mouthful of chicken. “No, we’re supposed to meet up there before heading out for the quests.” He took another bite.
Portis dropped his knife. “Y-you’re Heroes of Maissen?” Why didn’t you tell me?” His shocked face changed to a broad smile. “No wonder then you were the ones to go and save the girl! How wonderful! Who’s your sponsor, if you don’t mind my inquiry?”
“Popa Thorson is sponsoring us,” Bessie said.
Portis nodded. “Ah I see,” he seemed to be reading something more into Bessie response, but didn’t say what. “A good man Popa Thorson. Well I wish you the best.”
Madge nodded. “Thank you.”
The mayor continued. “You know, Kern has also sent a team of heroes to Maissen for the quest. They left a few days ago, probably the same day you left Vaunth-on-the-Lake. It is quite something to be a Hero of Maissen.”
Ren could hear the capitol letters in the mayor’s voice. “That’s what we keep hearing. Mostly in long speeches.”
“I was a Hero of Maissen myself, years ago,” Portis said.
Now everyone’s faces turned attentively to their host.
“What was it like?” Bessie asked.
“How’s the land out there?” Ren asked.
Portis chuckled. “Weeeelllll. We aren’t reeaaally supposed to help the new heroes. The whole point is prove yourselves good choices after all.” He grinned. “But there’s no rule against my telling you the tales of what *I* did.”
The rest of the night was filled with Portis telling his adventures. Ren was certain there was plenty of exaggeration, but he didn’t care. He kept asking pointed questions about the landscape, just like Bessie kept asking pointed questions about the animal life and Madge did about the threats. Portis carefully couched all his answers in stories about what he’d experienced. It took a little doing to pick out the gems of useful information from the mound of adventure tale, but it was worth it.
Portis confirmed what Ren had learned about the general geography of the wild. A vast plain full of chakta to the west, a rift valley with giant bees and a red stone stairway north of that. Dangerous swampy land to the north. Ghost dragon mountain, with its dwarves, far to the north. And a valley of perpetual storms a little southwest of there.
Portis finally asked if there were anything more he could do to help. It struck Ren as a little odd that he would do so much for a team of heroes that were essentially rivals of a team from his own town, and he said as much.
“No matter their home town, we all benefit when one of the good teams wins,” was the mayor’s answer.
The group took that at face value, but it seemed to stick in the back of everyone’s mind. He then made his offer again and was taken up on it. Portis volunteered four minor healing potions from his personal stock, and arranged for a horse and wagon to speed the group’s trip to their next stop – Tawgor’s Ferry.
It was a night well spent.
The mayor’s guards cleared a path through the crowd, as Portis led the four to his ferry. They were almost there when Bessie came to an abrupt halt.
“Jimmy!”
Ren slapped his forehead. “And the rest of our gear.”
Madge was exhausted, so Ren and Bessie made their way back to the camp. They returned only a few minutes later, leading the goat and wagon full of supplies. These were slowly loaded onto the mayor’s canopied ferry, and then the other, including Anna and her child, hopped on. There was a last burst of cheers as the ferry pulled away.
“Well they seem to like us,” Bessie said.
“OF course they do,” Portis said. “Heroism is to be admired, and what you did was admirably heroic!”
Madge, now wrapped under a blanket to stave off the chills, said, “We did what any decent people should have done.”
“And THAT,” Portis said with a point of his finger, “is what makes you the heroes. You did it. They didn’t.”
The ferry lurched, sending everyone grabbing for something.
“Choppy river,” the ferryman said, “keep hold ‘till we get across.”
The rest of the ride across the river passed in general quiet, except for the ferryman’s complaints and curses to the river. When they landed, Portis arraigned for a team of servants take Jimmy to a stable, and sent a runner up to tell his cook to ready a dinner for five.
As the boy left on that errand, the mayor pointed toward the center of town. “My house is this way. You can’t see it for the weather, but it isn’t far.”
It wasn’t far but it was up hill most of the way. To his credit, the mayor walked right beside the others, Anne and her child included. Ren had a hard time imagining the mayor of Vaunth-on-the-Lake doing the same. He was growing very fond of the man already, but then Portis said something that nearly reversed his opinion entirely.
He’d been talking the entire way up the hill, but Ren hadn’t paid close attention since the fifth time he reiterated how they were heroes. But then he heard Portis say slave.
“What was that?” he asked the mayor.
“I was telling Madge,” Portis said, “that in gratitude for rescuing my slaves, I’d like to give them to her.”
Instantly Madge said, “I accept.”
Ren glared at her. She narrowed her eyes at him and gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
Ren bit at his lip. He had just seen Madge dive into a cold river to save a child. He’d seen her fight mercilessly against wolves to save a stranger and heard her rail against the most pompous leaders of Vaunth-on-the-Lake. He could at least give a chance to explain herself, that seemed all she was silently asking. Ren softened his glare and nodded back at her.
They were crossing the gate into Portis' home now, a surprisingly simple two story building of stone. The group was met at the door by an aged woman and the boy that had been sent ahead. Anne disappeared with her child, returning a moment later empty handed. “She’s fast asleep,” she said. Anne helped to take the cloaks to dry and the older woman announced that dinner would be served within the hour.
"Thank you, Glatelle," Portis said as he shuffed off his own cloak and handed it to her. He led the others up a set of stairs and into a large room. A fire was already roaring in the hearth, there were thick bedrolls spread out, and pillows everywhere. A low table in the center of the room held bowls of fruit, a small keg and mugs, and a taller one in the corner had a large bowl, real soap, and a large water pitcher. Towels were neatly stacked on a lower shelf.
“Here you will be my guests,” Portis said. He bowed politely to them. “I leave you to freshen up. Glatelle will knock when dinner is served. I will see you then.”
As soon as the door closed, Killian put a hand to his ear. “That sound! I remember it. ‘tis quiet!”
Bessie chuckled. Ren might have but he was far too concerned with hearing what Madge had to say. She knew it. The ranger looked to him and held up a single finger. Then she turned to Anne.
“Anne, what did you do before you were a slave?” Madge asked.
The slave looked a little startled. This seemed to be the last sort of thing she expected to be asked by a new master. She stammered a moment before saying, “I was a herbist, before my husband died.”
“A healer?” Bessie asked, a tone of astonishment in her voice.
Anne shook her head. “Nothing so grand,” she said. “I just grew herbs. Though there were some healers that bought them, a few bakers and cooks too. I did well for awhile, but…” Her face fell and she took a long breath. “…then my crop got tainted. That was the same year Mel died. People got to thinking I was cursed. Then from there it just….”
Madge reached out to take Anne’s hand. “I understand.” She gave Anne a moment and then asked, “Would you like to go back to that?”
Suddenly Ren broke into a wide smile. He saw where Madge was going with this. And he whole heartedly approved.
Anne blinked at the ranger. “I…I…yes, but how?”
“I’ll give you your freedom and you can return to being an herbist.”
Tears began to well up in Anne’s eyes. She threw herself against Madge and embraced her. “Thank you – oh thank you,” she cried. Then she stiffened and sat back. “No. There isn’t a way. Even free I wouldn’t be able to?’
Bessie cocked her head. “Why not?”
“It’d take more money than I’ve been able to save up,” Anne answered. “Much, much more.”
“How much more?” Ren asked.
Anne spread her fingers over her chin as she thought. “I’m not sure. There’s rent payments, supplies, I’d earn nothing as the first crop grew, and….”
“Just a general guess,” Madge said. “Ten gold to get started? Twenty…”
Anne gasped. “Gold? With ten gold I could go a season. More maybe.”
Ren started digging into his money pouch. Bessie and Madge were doing the same. “Here’s five,” he said, putting the gold onto the low table. Popa Thorson had given each of them a starting allowance, and he’d been conservative with his. He could be generous and still have a few gold left over. There’d be no use for them in the wild anyway.
“Seven here,” Bessie said.
“And I’ve five more,” Madge said.
Anne’s eyes were wide as saucers as she gaped at the pile of coins. The others’ eyes were on Killian.
“All right,” he said. “Three more for an even twenty,” he said as he pulled out the gold. “But I’ll want some good flavored bread when we come back around this way.” His voice was gruff, but he couldn’t hide the smile.
Anne broke down in a fit of joyful sobbing then and there.
Dinner was as elegant as Popa Thorson had served them earlier in the week. Portis was indifferent to the news that Madge had freed Anne. He moved straight on to a new topic.
“What brings you to fair Kern?”
Bessie and Madge exchanged glances. Killian continued to eat. Ren let the silence hang for a three count and then spoke up. “Heading to Maissen the city.”
“Ah,” Portis said. “A wonderful place Maissen. Huge. Some of everything a man, or woman, could want. Are you trading?”
Ren shook his head and swallowed a mouthful of chicken. “No, we’re supposed to meet up there before heading out for the quests.” He took another bite.
Portis dropped his knife. “Y-you’re Heroes of Maissen?” Why didn’t you tell me?” His shocked face changed to a broad smile. “No wonder then you were the ones to go and save the girl! How wonderful! Who’s your sponsor, if you don’t mind my inquiry?”
“Popa Thorson is sponsoring us,” Bessie said.
Portis nodded. “Ah I see,” he seemed to be reading something more into Bessie response, but didn’t say what. “A good man Popa Thorson. Well I wish you the best.”
Madge nodded. “Thank you.”
The mayor continued. “You know, Kern has also sent a team of heroes to Maissen for the quest. They left a few days ago, probably the same day you left Vaunth-on-the-Lake. It is quite something to be a Hero of Maissen.”
Ren could hear the capitol letters in the mayor’s voice. “That’s what we keep hearing. Mostly in long speeches.”
“I was a Hero of Maissen myself, years ago,” Portis said.
Now everyone’s faces turned attentively to their host.
“What was it like?” Bessie asked.
“How’s the land out there?” Ren asked.
Portis chuckled. “Weeeelllll. We aren’t reeaaally supposed to help the new heroes. The whole point is prove yourselves good choices after all.” He grinned. “But there’s no rule against my telling you the tales of what *I* did.”
The rest of the night was filled with Portis telling his adventures. Ren was certain there was plenty of exaggeration, but he didn’t care. He kept asking pointed questions about the landscape, just like Bessie kept asking pointed questions about the animal life and Madge did about the threats. Portis carefully couched all his answers in stories about what he’d experienced. It took a little doing to pick out the gems of useful information from the mound of adventure tale, but it was worth it.
Portis confirmed what Ren had learned about the general geography of the wild. A vast plain full of chakta to the west, a rift valley with giant bees and a red stone stairway north of that. Dangerous swampy land to the north. Ghost dragon mountain, with its dwarves, far to the north. And a valley of perpetual storms a little southwest of there.
Portis finally asked if there were anything more he could do to help. It struck Ren as a little odd that he would do so much for a team of heroes that were essentially rivals of a team from his own town, and he said as much.
“No matter their home town, we all benefit when one of the good teams wins,” was the mayor’s answer.
The group took that at face value, but it seemed to stick in the back of everyone’s mind. He then made his offer again and was taken up on it. Portis volunteered four minor healing potions from his personal stock, and arranged for a horse and wagon to speed the group’s trip to their next stop – Tawgor’s Ferry.
It was a night well spent.
Beale Knight
First Post
01 - 07 Last step to Maissen
The next morning Ren woke up very late. As he stirred he saw that Madge was already out of the room, but Killian and Bessie were still asleep. Ren jumped to his feet and crossed to the window, pushing the shutters open with a loud bang. The clouds had cleared away, and it was a sunny day.
Too sunny. He should have been awakened hours ago. They were losing time. There were only so many days to get to Maissen!
“Wot’s the noise?” Killian asked.
“We’re late,” Ren said. “We’ve got to get on the road. We…” He stopped. There was something he’d forgotten. What was it?
Bessie stirred. “Hmmmm? What?’
Just then the door opened and Madge entered. “Good,” she said, “You’re awake.” Her voice was hoarser than usual. Ren’s mind flashed back to the ale at dinner last night.
Last night! Portis had promised them…
“Our ride is here,” Madge continued. “A draft horse and wagon with enough room for all of us. Once we and the horse get fed we can be off.”
Killian was on his feet. “Ah! So that’s what you we’re gettin’ to then, Ren.”
Madge looked quizzically at Ren. “How did you know? We just got here.”
Ren winked at her then turned around to gather his gear, hoping no one could tell how red his face felt like it was getting.
After a breakfast that filled everyone enough to eliminate the need for lunch, and possibly dinner, the group loaded into the wagon Portis had arraigned for. Jimmy was hitched to the rear, and then there was nothing left to do but say farewell. Anne, tears in her eyes, hugged each of them tightly and thanked them for setting her on a new life. Portis shook their hands and wished them all the luck they would need, and Glatelle gave them each a bag full of biscuits for the road.
The tale of Madge rescuing Anne’s child had already spread through Kern, and there was a small crowd to cheer them on as they rode out of town. Ren took the opportunity to tell them how they enjoyed their stay – and to announce Anne’s return to the herb business.
Traveling from Kenr to Tawgor’s Ferry was a blissfully uneventful experience. Bob the driver had driven the route countless times and knew just where the rough spots were, and where he could quicken the pace safely. What would have been a three and a half to four day walk was complete in two days. Bob also knew the ideal overnight spot, which meant a comfortable campsite safe from wolves.
Tawgor’s Ferry originated as a military fort, and the influence was never abandoned. The city sat atop a tall mountain crest overlooking the intersection of the river and bay that led to Maissen. Now located centrally north and south, the city was a trader’s paradise. As the group wandered the streets they saw all manner of goods, food, and animals for sale. The slave market was pointedly avoided.
No boat was leaving for Maissen until the next afternoon, which gave them most of a day in the city. Thanks to their wagon ride, they were a full three days ahead of schedule, and could afford the time to enjoy themselves. They found lodging for the night, agreed to meet in the morning and went their separate ways.
Low in coin and long used to being frugal anyway, Ren spent most of his time just wandering the streets and sightseeing. He watched the chicken beat a score of people at simple x/o games, looked over the fancy dresses and imagined Lela in each one, tested a few short bows – but the only one he found that he liked was well beyond his means, sampled some various ales, and wound down his day watching the sunset over the river.
Later at the inn, he called for ink and parchment and began a letter to his family. He told them of the people he was traveling with, what they had seen and done so far, and how everything was going perfectly well. Then he wrote another to Lela, addressing it to Popa Thorson so her father wouldn’t intercept it.
The next morning he paid to have the letters speeded home and caught up with the others. Bessie seemed almost blissfully happy but said little about her day. Killian was talking enough, going on and on about the tavern party he spent the full day, and night, at – drinking everyone else under the table. Madge was complaining. Not about her day. She’d already been up awhile and saw to booking passage across to Maissen.
Not only was the boat captain an extortionist, but his fellows added to it all by demanding another huge fee to get Jimmy and the wagon down to the docks. With Tawgor’s Ferry built atop a virtual mountain, the docks were three hundred feet below, down a generally sheer cliff face. Plenty of wooden switchback stairways had been built, but none were designed with a goat cart in mind.
Getting across was not an option though; it was a necessity. The four pooled their funds and had enough even to provide for a decent tip for the captain. A precaution against any “incidental” expenses cropping up. Fees paid, goat down, and funds almost depleted, the Heroes of Maissen, Vaunth-on-the-Lake company, were on their way across the rivers to Maissen.
The trip took more than a day, the distance was that great even by boat. Once past the rivers and into the bay the going was easy. Despite cramped quarters, the group slept well enough for a few hours en route. Late the next afternoon they saw it.
Maissen loomed over the bay like a sunrise. A wide dock graced the waterfront like the frill of a wedding dress. Sand colored walls rose to the north and south, winding out of sight to the west. Inner walls, dotted with towers, had the look of a graceful elder age. Between the two razor straight streets checkered the hill sides. Further up the hill, the older district’s narrow, twisting streets spoke of the organic growth when the city had another name.
Atop the hill was the Castle. Immense beyond words, it dominated the skyline and could likely be seen from anywhere in the city. The homes of every wealthy aristocrat in Vaunth-on-the-Lake, and probably Kern too, could easily have fit within the castle’s walls and still there would be room left free.
This was where the first Maisseners had made their home. Where a rough fort had been brought to the grandest castle in the world. This was where the Council of Maissen met. This was the heart of the nation. This was where every Hero of Maissen had passed through.
This was where a druid, sorcerer, ranger, and hunter from Vaunth-on-the-Lake were going to join their number.
The next morning Ren woke up very late. As he stirred he saw that Madge was already out of the room, but Killian and Bessie were still asleep. Ren jumped to his feet and crossed to the window, pushing the shutters open with a loud bang. The clouds had cleared away, and it was a sunny day.
Too sunny. He should have been awakened hours ago. They were losing time. There were only so many days to get to Maissen!
“Wot’s the noise?” Killian asked.
“We’re late,” Ren said. “We’ve got to get on the road. We…” He stopped. There was something he’d forgotten. What was it?
Bessie stirred. “Hmmmm? What?’
Just then the door opened and Madge entered. “Good,” she said, “You’re awake.” Her voice was hoarser than usual. Ren’s mind flashed back to the ale at dinner last night.
Last night! Portis had promised them…
“Our ride is here,” Madge continued. “A draft horse and wagon with enough room for all of us. Once we and the horse get fed we can be off.”
Killian was on his feet. “Ah! So that’s what you we’re gettin’ to then, Ren.”
Madge looked quizzically at Ren. “How did you know? We just got here.”
Ren winked at her then turned around to gather his gear, hoping no one could tell how red his face felt like it was getting.
After a breakfast that filled everyone enough to eliminate the need for lunch, and possibly dinner, the group loaded into the wagon Portis had arraigned for. Jimmy was hitched to the rear, and then there was nothing left to do but say farewell. Anne, tears in her eyes, hugged each of them tightly and thanked them for setting her on a new life. Portis shook their hands and wished them all the luck they would need, and Glatelle gave them each a bag full of biscuits for the road.
The tale of Madge rescuing Anne’s child had already spread through Kern, and there was a small crowd to cheer them on as they rode out of town. Ren took the opportunity to tell them how they enjoyed their stay – and to announce Anne’s return to the herb business.
Traveling from Kenr to Tawgor’s Ferry was a blissfully uneventful experience. Bob the driver had driven the route countless times and knew just where the rough spots were, and where he could quicken the pace safely. What would have been a three and a half to four day walk was complete in two days. Bob also knew the ideal overnight spot, which meant a comfortable campsite safe from wolves.
Tawgor’s Ferry originated as a military fort, and the influence was never abandoned. The city sat atop a tall mountain crest overlooking the intersection of the river and bay that led to Maissen. Now located centrally north and south, the city was a trader’s paradise. As the group wandered the streets they saw all manner of goods, food, and animals for sale. The slave market was pointedly avoided.
No boat was leaving for Maissen until the next afternoon, which gave them most of a day in the city. Thanks to their wagon ride, they were a full three days ahead of schedule, and could afford the time to enjoy themselves. They found lodging for the night, agreed to meet in the morning and went their separate ways.
Low in coin and long used to being frugal anyway, Ren spent most of his time just wandering the streets and sightseeing. He watched the chicken beat a score of people at simple x/o games, looked over the fancy dresses and imagined Lela in each one, tested a few short bows – but the only one he found that he liked was well beyond his means, sampled some various ales, and wound down his day watching the sunset over the river.
Later at the inn, he called for ink and parchment and began a letter to his family. He told them of the people he was traveling with, what they had seen and done so far, and how everything was going perfectly well. Then he wrote another to Lela, addressing it to Popa Thorson so her father wouldn’t intercept it.
The next morning he paid to have the letters speeded home and caught up with the others. Bessie seemed almost blissfully happy but said little about her day. Killian was talking enough, going on and on about the tavern party he spent the full day, and night, at – drinking everyone else under the table. Madge was complaining. Not about her day. She’d already been up awhile and saw to booking passage across to Maissen.
Not only was the boat captain an extortionist, but his fellows added to it all by demanding another huge fee to get Jimmy and the wagon down to the docks. With Tawgor’s Ferry built atop a virtual mountain, the docks were three hundred feet below, down a generally sheer cliff face. Plenty of wooden switchback stairways had been built, but none were designed with a goat cart in mind.
Getting across was not an option though; it was a necessity. The four pooled their funds and had enough even to provide for a decent tip for the captain. A precaution against any “incidental” expenses cropping up. Fees paid, goat down, and funds almost depleted, the Heroes of Maissen, Vaunth-on-the-Lake company, were on their way across the rivers to Maissen.
The trip took more than a day, the distance was that great even by boat. Once past the rivers and into the bay the going was easy. Despite cramped quarters, the group slept well enough for a few hours en route. Late the next afternoon they saw it.
Maissen loomed over the bay like a sunrise. A wide dock graced the waterfront like the frill of a wedding dress. Sand colored walls rose to the north and south, winding out of sight to the west. Inner walls, dotted with towers, had the look of a graceful elder age. Between the two razor straight streets checkered the hill sides. Further up the hill, the older district’s narrow, twisting streets spoke of the organic growth when the city had another name.
Atop the hill was the Castle. Immense beyond words, it dominated the skyline and could likely be seen from anywhere in the city. The homes of every wealthy aristocrat in Vaunth-on-the-Lake, and probably Kern too, could easily have fit within the castle’s walls and still there would be room left free.
This was where the first Maisseners had made their home. Where a rough fort had been brought to the grandest castle in the world. This was where the Council of Maissen met. This was the heart of the nation. This was where every Hero of Maissen had passed through.
This was where a druid, sorcerer, ranger, and hunter from Vaunth-on-the-Lake were going to join their number.
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alsih2o
First Post
Below is Portis, the mayor from Kern. This is some of his backstory, can't give away too much yet. 
Portis, Mayor of Kern Brd1/Pal2/Nob5 5 ft., 7 in. tall (lawful good) Well kept. Formal and in-charge but friendly.
hp 59, Init +1, Spd 30 ft.; AC 11
Attack +5 melee, or +6 ranged
SV Fort +7, Ref +6, Will +9
Str 11, Dex 13, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 12, Cha 15.
Languages Spoken: Common, Giant
Skills and feats: Craft (Blacksmithing) +3
Craft (Weaponsmithing) +4
Craft (Woodworking) +6
Heal +2.5
Hide +1
Knowledge (Arcana) +7
Knowledge (Religion) +10
Listen +1
Move Silently +1
Perform (Comedy) +10
Perform (Keyboard Instruments) +8.5
Perform (Percussion Instruments) +6.5
Perform (Sing) +9
Perform (String Instruments) +7
Perform (Storytelling) +10
Spot +5
Feats: Diligent, Point Blank Shot, Toughness, Weapon Focus (longsword).
Bard Spells Known (2): 0th -- Daze, Flare, Mending, Summon Instrument. .
Portis has parlayed a mediocre lot in life into a comfortable existence.
He adventured for a short while and was part of a very succesful team. Under the guidance of a cleric of the Two Sisters he came to be a paladin and discovered his true calling in gov’t when he returned to Maissen. Portis took advantage of his likability and his talent for telling tales of his adventures.
Most see Portis as being very humble when he speaks of past adventures as he rarely emphasizes his role. They would be misguided as he was not a significant part of his parties successes.
Despite his shortcomings as a roving adventurer Portis has all the necessary requirements to ba a fantastic mayor for Kern. He acts mostly as the face of the town council and excels at that role. With his limited powers as mayor he does his best to make decision that benefit the people of Kern with little or no concern for himself. The people of Kern have a strong respect for their mayor and will readily come to his defense if an outsider speaks poorly of him.
Portis, Mayor of Kern Brd1/Pal2/Nob5 5 ft., 7 in. tall (lawful good) Well kept. Formal and in-charge but friendly.
hp 59, Init +1, Spd 30 ft.; AC 11
Attack +5 melee, or +6 ranged
SV Fort +7, Ref +6, Will +9
Str 11, Dex 13, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 12, Cha 15.
Languages Spoken: Common, Giant
Skills and feats: Craft (Blacksmithing) +3
Craft (Weaponsmithing) +4
Craft (Woodworking) +6
Heal +2.5
Hide +1
Knowledge (Arcana) +7
Knowledge (Religion) +10
Listen +1
Move Silently +1
Perform (Comedy) +10
Perform (Keyboard Instruments) +8.5
Perform (Percussion Instruments) +6.5
Perform (Sing) +9
Perform (String Instruments) +7
Perform (Storytelling) +10
Spot +5
Feats: Diligent, Point Blank Shot, Toughness, Weapon Focus (longsword).
Bard Spells Known (2): 0th -- Daze, Flare, Mending, Summon Instrument. .
Portis has parlayed a mediocre lot in life into a comfortable existence.
He adventured for a short while and was part of a very succesful team. Under the guidance of a cleric of the Two Sisters he came to be a paladin and discovered his true calling in gov’t when he returned to Maissen. Portis took advantage of his likability and his talent for telling tales of his adventures.
Most see Portis as being very humble when he speaks of past adventures as he rarely emphasizes his role. They would be misguided as he was not a significant part of his parties successes.
Despite his shortcomings as a roving adventurer Portis has all the necessary requirements to ba a fantastic mayor for Kern. He acts mostly as the face of the town council and excels at that role. With his limited powers as mayor he does his best to make decision that benefit the people of Kern with little or no concern for himself. The people of Kern have a strong respect for their mayor and will readily come to his defense if an outsider speaks poorly of him.
Beale Knight
First Post
01-08/02-01 Maissen the castle
At last the boat made its way into Maissen’s port and docked. As the four gathered their equipment one question was finally taking shape.
“Just what are we supposed to do now that we’re here, anyway?” asked Ren. “Just make our way up to the castle gates, knock and say ‘we’re the heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake?’”
“I don’ see why not!” Killian said. “That’s what we are, that’s what they should expect from us!”
Madge cleared her throat, a sound something like a minor avalanche. “I believe our agenda from this point forward is set,” she said, pointing down the pier.
Striding toward the little boat were two imposing men. Tall and draped in elegant clothing, they wore power and confidence with the graceful comfort of people that had earned it the hard way. Even in rags they would have stood out as leaders. Without even noticing they’d done so, Ren and the others had stopped unloading their gear just to stare at them as they approached.
“You are Popa Thorson’s band from Vaunth-on-the-Lake,” the taller said. It wasn’t a question.
Madge spoke up. “We are. I am Madge Hannibal. This is Bessie Fisherman, Ren d’Hayson, and Killian.”
Both men nodded to each as Madge introduced them. “I am Kord,” the taller man said.
“And I am Kerros the Black,” said the other. “Leave your goods; porters will come for them. We have the honor to escort you to the castle.”
“Y’ are putting us up then?” Killian asked.
Kord and Kerros both raised their eyebrows at the question. “Of course,” Kord answered.
Ren nodded. “Good to hear. Our funds are about to nothing.”
Now their mouths dropped open. “You mean to say you’ve been charged for things?”
The four from Vaunth-on-the-Lake looked at each other and blinked at the odd question.
“Mm – yes,” Ren said finally. “At Towgar’s Ferry anyway, the inn and ride over did a….”
Kerros scowled at the boat pilot. “You charged Heroes of Maissen for transportation to their duty?”
The man stammered for several long moments, throwing out random words from time to time, but never actually managing to piece them together as a real sentence.
“Enough,” Kerros said. He placed his hand heavily on the pilot’s shoulder. “You will return what you charged them and you will apologize.”
The pilot meekly did as instructed, whispering an apology that could barely be heard over the waves lapping at the docks. It was enough to satisfy.
With that business concluded, Kord and Kerros led the four official Heroes up toward the castle. Maissen’s street were crowded with activity, but however thick the crowds, they always parted for the group. Every uniformed soldier they passed came to attention and saluted. Every other person that noticed the six of them, from the rag clad street sweepers to the fat men in their delicate, jewel-encrusted outfits, stopped what they were doing to give a slight bow, nod, wave, or some other polite acknowledgement.
In that way they were soon at the castle itself. It was more imposing up close, but in a different way. When seen from the dock the castle dwarfed everything else in view. Its gargantuan size was obvious but vaguely unreal, like a distant mountain you’ll never climb. However, once there, not only was its existence undeniable, but each part of it was proportionally huge. Doors twice as large as a coach, every inch featuring intricate carvings, draw chains with links the size of a man’s forearm, halls larger than houses, statues and paintings that towered over the people staring at them, braziers that must have demanded a cord of wood each day.
Ren thought it was simply amazing. The place was so large it was almost like being outside! What the others thought was hard to tell. They continued to keep silent as Kord and Kerros guided them through the immense castle. Madge might have had a scowl on her face, but the scars made it difficult to be sure. Bessie and her owl both looked a little nervous. In contrast, Killian wore a large smile and kept turning this way and that trying to see everything he could. The sorcerer seemed perfectly at home.
The tour at last brought them to a room so large it might have had its own weather. It was as if someone had cleared out the market square of Vaunth-on-the-Lake and put walls and a roof around it. For its size the room held only one object.
A ship.
“This is the one remaining ship of the three that delivered our ancestors to these shores,” Kord said, solemn respect heavy in his voice.
Just then for some reason, Ren remembered a joke his uncle had once pulled. The hunter was very tempted to adapt it and break the moment by pointing to the very important ship and asking, “why’d they spell the name wrong?” He fought the urge down. Even if his town mates laughed, Ren was pretty sure Kord and Kerros wouldn’t.
From there the two led the way to the chambers the Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake would be using. The goods promised them by Popa Thorson were there waiting on them.
“One group has already arrived,” Kord said. “When the third arrives we will hold the feast.” He went on the explain a few general rules, where they could go, where they couldn’t, who they could ask for what they wanted, and so forth.
What followed was day and a half of unabashed luxury. There was more food and drink than any of the four could consume. There were scented baths with small flowing waterfalls built into them. Elegant clothing so light and airy it felt weightless. Beds as soft as clouds or as firm as stone. Chambers where music was performed at all hours. There was no want for activities or anything else.
The second night was the grand feast. As requested by their hosts, the Heroes wore the outfits they planned to wear in the wild. Once in the feast hall, their clothing made them easy to pick out, and made the other two groups just as easy to notice. The three groups were kept separate from each other, even being led into the hall through different entrances. But each had no shortage of well dressed people coming up to them, shaking their hands, and giving them thanks and blessings for taking on the mantle of Heroes. Only when they finally got to their table did the four have opportunity to speak to each other.
“Those four must be the group from Kern,” Bessie said. She pointed to a group dressed much like themselves, in leathers and with bows and mostly small hand weapons. “Portis said there were four.”
Killian was pointing at the third group. “I’d like to know why that group gets t’ have more folk in it. Doesn’t seem right t’ me.”
“That’s the team from Balos,” Madge said. She was frowning. “Popa Thorson said nothing about a set number per group. And that one obviously has some coin behind it.”
There were six at that third table, all trying very hard to seem above and bored by the whole feasting business. They wore different outfits, some in leathers, some in chain, some in robes – it was plainly a group well balanced in talents - but there was one thing in common. Each one of their outfits was red.
“Hmph,” Ren said. “Redbreasts. Obviously all the better to blend in with the grassland.” He reached across the table to the spice jars and took three of them.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Madge hissed at him.
“We’re going to be in the wild awhile,” Ren answered. “Spices can go a long way to making a poor meal grand. And we might find them useful if we meet someone who wants to make some trades.”
Madge frowned again but didn’t say anything.
The courses then began to arrive. Once Ren began eating, it was to him one of those odd instances when time seemed to flow fast and slow at the same time. The courses never seemed to stop. He would barely, if at all, finish one when the next would be at his elbow. Ren’s glasses of wine, water, and ale, never went empty.
And then all of a sudden it was over. Then it seemed as if only moments had passed. One of the twelve people at the head table then stood up for a speech that was blessedly short. He made a few of the now usual remarks regarding the Heroes, their bravery, the importance of what they were about to do, and the grand traditions of Maissen. The final blessing ceremony, and presentation of the Badges would be tomorrow, he said, and then the Heroes would be on their way.
With that the feast was over. Their escort came up to the table and Ren expected they would be led back to their chambers. “Not just yet,” the escort explained. “First you must meet with the council, as will the other two groups.”
“What’s this all about?” Ren asked.
“Tradition,” the escort said. “I also imagine they’re curious about your plans.” She led them down the same wide hall they’d traveled to the feast, but then turned off into a hall so small it had gone unnoticed when they passed it earlier. From there, the group was led to a room about the size of Popa Thorson’s entry hall, which made it the smallest room they’d yet seen in the castle.
“Wait here,” their escort instructed. “The far door will open when they’re ready for you. They’re meeting with each group separately, so it may be a little while. Make yourselves comfortable.”
She closed the door behind her, leaving the four Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake alone. Each sat in one of the comfortable chairs provided and took a deep breath almost simultaneously.
There was a brief moment of tense silence, which Ren finally broke.
“I suppose we need to decide what we’re going to tell these people, don’t we?”
At last the boat made its way into Maissen’s port and docked. As the four gathered their equipment one question was finally taking shape.
“Just what are we supposed to do now that we’re here, anyway?” asked Ren. “Just make our way up to the castle gates, knock and say ‘we’re the heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake?’”
“I don’ see why not!” Killian said. “That’s what we are, that’s what they should expect from us!”
Madge cleared her throat, a sound something like a minor avalanche. “I believe our agenda from this point forward is set,” she said, pointing down the pier.
Striding toward the little boat were two imposing men. Tall and draped in elegant clothing, they wore power and confidence with the graceful comfort of people that had earned it the hard way. Even in rags they would have stood out as leaders. Without even noticing they’d done so, Ren and the others had stopped unloading their gear just to stare at them as they approached.
“You are Popa Thorson’s band from Vaunth-on-the-Lake,” the taller said. It wasn’t a question.
Madge spoke up. “We are. I am Madge Hannibal. This is Bessie Fisherman, Ren d’Hayson, and Killian.”
Both men nodded to each as Madge introduced them. “I am Kord,” the taller man said.
“And I am Kerros the Black,” said the other. “Leave your goods; porters will come for them. We have the honor to escort you to the castle.”
“Y’ are putting us up then?” Killian asked.
Kord and Kerros both raised their eyebrows at the question. “Of course,” Kord answered.
Ren nodded. “Good to hear. Our funds are about to nothing.”
Now their mouths dropped open. “You mean to say you’ve been charged for things?”
The four from Vaunth-on-the-Lake looked at each other and blinked at the odd question.
“Mm – yes,” Ren said finally. “At Towgar’s Ferry anyway, the inn and ride over did a….”
Kerros scowled at the boat pilot. “You charged Heroes of Maissen for transportation to their duty?”
The man stammered for several long moments, throwing out random words from time to time, but never actually managing to piece them together as a real sentence.
“Enough,” Kerros said. He placed his hand heavily on the pilot’s shoulder. “You will return what you charged them and you will apologize.”
The pilot meekly did as instructed, whispering an apology that could barely be heard over the waves lapping at the docks. It was enough to satisfy.
With that business concluded, Kord and Kerros led the four official Heroes up toward the castle. Maissen’s street were crowded with activity, but however thick the crowds, they always parted for the group. Every uniformed soldier they passed came to attention and saluted. Every other person that noticed the six of them, from the rag clad street sweepers to the fat men in their delicate, jewel-encrusted outfits, stopped what they were doing to give a slight bow, nod, wave, or some other polite acknowledgement.
In that way they were soon at the castle itself. It was more imposing up close, but in a different way. When seen from the dock the castle dwarfed everything else in view. Its gargantuan size was obvious but vaguely unreal, like a distant mountain you’ll never climb. However, once there, not only was its existence undeniable, but each part of it was proportionally huge. Doors twice as large as a coach, every inch featuring intricate carvings, draw chains with links the size of a man’s forearm, halls larger than houses, statues and paintings that towered over the people staring at them, braziers that must have demanded a cord of wood each day.
Ren thought it was simply amazing. The place was so large it was almost like being outside! What the others thought was hard to tell. They continued to keep silent as Kord and Kerros guided them through the immense castle. Madge might have had a scowl on her face, but the scars made it difficult to be sure. Bessie and her owl both looked a little nervous. In contrast, Killian wore a large smile and kept turning this way and that trying to see everything he could. The sorcerer seemed perfectly at home.
The tour at last brought them to a room so large it might have had its own weather. It was as if someone had cleared out the market square of Vaunth-on-the-Lake and put walls and a roof around it. For its size the room held only one object.
A ship.
“This is the one remaining ship of the three that delivered our ancestors to these shores,” Kord said, solemn respect heavy in his voice.
Just then for some reason, Ren remembered a joke his uncle had once pulled. The hunter was very tempted to adapt it and break the moment by pointing to the very important ship and asking, “why’d they spell the name wrong?” He fought the urge down. Even if his town mates laughed, Ren was pretty sure Kord and Kerros wouldn’t.
From there the two led the way to the chambers the Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake would be using. The goods promised them by Popa Thorson were there waiting on them.
“One group has already arrived,” Kord said. “When the third arrives we will hold the feast.” He went on the explain a few general rules, where they could go, where they couldn’t, who they could ask for what they wanted, and so forth.
What followed was day and a half of unabashed luxury. There was more food and drink than any of the four could consume. There were scented baths with small flowing waterfalls built into them. Elegant clothing so light and airy it felt weightless. Beds as soft as clouds or as firm as stone. Chambers where music was performed at all hours. There was no want for activities or anything else.
The second night was the grand feast. As requested by their hosts, the Heroes wore the outfits they planned to wear in the wild. Once in the feast hall, their clothing made them easy to pick out, and made the other two groups just as easy to notice. The three groups were kept separate from each other, even being led into the hall through different entrances. But each had no shortage of well dressed people coming up to them, shaking their hands, and giving them thanks and blessings for taking on the mantle of Heroes. Only when they finally got to their table did the four have opportunity to speak to each other.
“Those four must be the group from Kern,” Bessie said. She pointed to a group dressed much like themselves, in leathers and with bows and mostly small hand weapons. “Portis said there were four.”
Killian was pointing at the third group. “I’d like to know why that group gets t’ have more folk in it. Doesn’t seem right t’ me.”
“That’s the team from Balos,” Madge said. She was frowning. “Popa Thorson said nothing about a set number per group. And that one obviously has some coin behind it.”
There were six at that third table, all trying very hard to seem above and bored by the whole feasting business. They wore different outfits, some in leathers, some in chain, some in robes – it was plainly a group well balanced in talents - but there was one thing in common. Each one of their outfits was red.
“Hmph,” Ren said. “Redbreasts. Obviously all the better to blend in with the grassland.” He reached across the table to the spice jars and took three of them.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Madge hissed at him.
“We’re going to be in the wild awhile,” Ren answered. “Spices can go a long way to making a poor meal grand. And we might find them useful if we meet someone who wants to make some trades.”
Madge frowned again but didn’t say anything.
The courses then began to arrive. Once Ren began eating, it was to him one of those odd instances when time seemed to flow fast and slow at the same time. The courses never seemed to stop. He would barely, if at all, finish one when the next would be at his elbow. Ren’s glasses of wine, water, and ale, never went empty.
And then all of a sudden it was over. Then it seemed as if only moments had passed. One of the twelve people at the head table then stood up for a speech that was blessedly short. He made a few of the now usual remarks regarding the Heroes, their bravery, the importance of what they were about to do, and the grand traditions of Maissen. The final blessing ceremony, and presentation of the Badges would be tomorrow, he said, and then the Heroes would be on their way.
With that the feast was over. Their escort came up to the table and Ren expected they would be led back to their chambers. “Not just yet,” the escort explained. “First you must meet with the council, as will the other two groups.”
“What’s this all about?” Ren asked.
“Tradition,” the escort said. “I also imagine they’re curious about your plans.” She led them down the same wide hall they’d traveled to the feast, but then turned off into a hall so small it had gone unnoticed when they passed it earlier. From there, the group was led to a room about the size of Popa Thorson’s entry hall, which made it the smallest room they’d yet seen in the castle.
“Wait here,” their escort instructed. “The far door will open when they’re ready for you. They’re meeting with each group separately, so it may be a little while. Make yourselves comfortable.”
She closed the door behind her, leaving the four Heroes from Vaunth-on-the-Lake alone. Each sat in one of the comfortable chairs provided and took a deep breath almost simultaneously.
There was a brief moment of tense silence, which Ren finally broke.
“I suppose we need to decide what we’re going to tell these people, don’t we?”
Attachments
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Beale Knight
First Post
For comparison's sake
Everything up to feast covered in the last post happened in the first session of the campaign. As I mentioned in the first post, the notes for that session were sparse. Now that you've (presumably) read the dramatic write up, I thought it might be interesting to see the source notes.
Session 1:
We are independently gathered at Papa Throson’s home. He has been given permission to assemble heroes for an expansion quest, but only three weeks to have one presented to the council in Meiseen proper. Traditionally a year is given so Popa thinks he is being set up for failure. He gives us each a gift for taking on this task, I receive two arrows that will instantly slay any beast born of nature.
He tells us of three others in town who would have business with us since we’re a hero team.
• Corwin the brewer wants to know the ale secrets of dwarves. He’s tasted theirs once before and wants a pint to reverse-engineer. He says the dwarves are in the Ghost Dragon Mountains, beyond the Valley of the Storms, beyond the woods, beyond another valley to the general northwest. He will host us for life if we do this, and pay a handsome gift.
• Shayder the richest fisherman/boat owner/etc wants to make a “coche” biscuit, which requires the honey from giant bees, which can be found in the Rift Valley with the red stones. Follow the red stones to the bottom of the valley, but beware of the guardian “kerbels” and whatever you do, don’t eat the honey! The haughty paladin Youst killed the one whose pelt decorates Shayder’s den.
• Petris the haughty priest wants us to find the valley of Drayne and gather four stones: black, brown, orange, and yellow. They are foci for the Wall of Stone spell. He provided a container with spots for each stone and warns they should never touch. He promises to use the spell to provide quality housing for the poor once the protective walls around Vaunth-on-the-Lake are complete. We also squeeze him for three healing scrolls.
Apparently Valley of the Storms is the same as Valley of Drayne. The tale is that a wizard battle the fey that lived there and the storm he magically called to drive them away is still going. It seems the other valley Corwin mentioned is the rift valley of the giant bees. No clue regarding the forest that’s between them.
Three days later, spent staying at the illustrious Feathered Prow inn, there is a long ceremony, and we are escorted from Vaunth-on-the-Lake by Vinne, the local paladin of Simus the careless, er uncaring. Outside the city we make for Kern on foot. We meet a Hairshirt procession, discover Killian’s strange compulsion for bonfires, and help an escaped slave against some wolves. At the river beside Kern, we find a child is trapped on a ferry whose line has snapped. She is hung up in the rapids and likely to fall and drown soon.
We tie Madge, the strongest of us, to the ferry line and she makes her way to the ferry – almost drowning as she goes out there. Once we get going, the crowd of folks that had been standing around staring decide to do something to help out, which amounts to little. Anna, the three year old child’s mother, is immensely grateful. As is Portis, the mayor of Kern. Our rescue was witnessed from the far side of the river and we are greeted as heroes.
Anna is the mayor’s slave and he gives her to Madge. We are put up in the mayor’s home and decide to sponsor Anna in her herb business, and give her enough gold to live on for a year while she gets things going. Portis gives us an overview of the wild, confirming what the three dealers in Vaunth-on-the-Lake told us about the general geography. One thing seems important, in the plains to the west, don’t venture far from the river or you may be eternally lost. Mayor Portis also gives us 4 “goodberry” potions from his personal stash.
We travel by wagon to Tawgor’s Ferry, a military fort turned port. I send a letter home and we are soon being transported to the city. There we are met by Kord, a council member, and Kerros the Black. After a tour we are delivered to our rooms. We are told one hero group has already arrived, the other should be here soon.
Everything up to feast covered in the last post happened in the first session of the campaign. As I mentioned in the first post, the notes for that session were sparse. Now that you've (presumably) read the dramatic write up, I thought it might be interesting to see the source notes.
Session 1:
We are independently gathered at Papa Throson’s home. He has been given permission to assemble heroes for an expansion quest, but only three weeks to have one presented to the council in Meiseen proper. Traditionally a year is given so Popa thinks he is being set up for failure. He gives us each a gift for taking on this task, I receive two arrows that will instantly slay any beast born of nature.
He tells us of three others in town who would have business with us since we’re a hero team.
• Corwin the brewer wants to know the ale secrets of dwarves. He’s tasted theirs once before and wants a pint to reverse-engineer. He says the dwarves are in the Ghost Dragon Mountains, beyond the Valley of the Storms, beyond the woods, beyond another valley to the general northwest. He will host us for life if we do this, and pay a handsome gift.
• Shayder the richest fisherman/boat owner/etc wants to make a “coche” biscuit, which requires the honey from giant bees, which can be found in the Rift Valley with the red stones. Follow the red stones to the bottom of the valley, but beware of the guardian “kerbels” and whatever you do, don’t eat the honey! The haughty paladin Youst killed the one whose pelt decorates Shayder’s den.
• Petris the haughty priest wants us to find the valley of Drayne and gather four stones: black, brown, orange, and yellow. They are foci for the Wall of Stone spell. He provided a container with spots for each stone and warns they should never touch. He promises to use the spell to provide quality housing for the poor once the protective walls around Vaunth-on-the-Lake are complete. We also squeeze him for three healing scrolls.
Apparently Valley of the Storms is the same as Valley of Drayne. The tale is that a wizard battle the fey that lived there and the storm he magically called to drive them away is still going. It seems the other valley Corwin mentioned is the rift valley of the giant bees. No clue regarding the forest that’s between them.
Three days later, spent staying at the illustrious Feathered Prow inn, there is a long ceremony, and we are escorted from Vaunth-on-the-Lake by Vinne, the local paladin of Simus the careless, er uncaring. Outside the city we make for Kern on foot. We meet a Hairshirt procession, discover Killian’s strange compulsion for bonfires, and help an escaped slave against some wolves. At the river beside Kern, we find a child is trapped on a ferry whose line has snapped. She is hung up in the rapids and likely to fall and drown soon.
We tie Madge, the strongest of us, to the ferry line and she makes her way to the ferry – almost drowning as she goes out there. Once we get going, the crowd of folks that had been standing around staring decide to do something to help out, which amounts to little. Anna, the three year old child’s mother, is immensely grateful. As is Portis, the mayor of Kern. Our rescue was witnessed from the far side of the river and we are greeted as heroes.
Anna is the mayor’s slave and he gives her to Madge. We are put up in the mayor’s home and decide to sponsor Anna in her herb business, and give her enough gold to live on for a year while she gets things going. Portis gives us an overview of the wild, confirming what the three dealers in Vaunth-on-the-Lake told us about the general geography. One thing seems important, in the plains to the west, don’t venture far from the river or you may be eternally lost. Mayor Portis also gives us 4 “goodberry” potions from his personal stash.
We travel by wagon to Tawgor’s Ferry, a military fort turned port. I send a letter home and we are soon being transported to the city. There we are met by Kord, a council member, and Kerros the Black. After a tour we are delivered to our rooms. We are told one hero group has already arrived, the other should be here soon.
Beale Knight
First Post
Opinions Wanted Please!
I mentioned in the first post there would be a dramatic change of voice once I got past the first session and that’s where I am now. Session 02’s write up include first person comments from Ren, but thereafter the existing session write ups are neutral and passive in voice; they weren’t written as a novel starring Ren the Wilderness Rogue.
I see three ways I can proceed.
1 Upload the write ups as they are.
This will allow for very frequent updates. I’ll double check for errors and plain bad writing, but won’t change anything else. This means they’ll read much more like an adventure log than what you’ve read so far.
2 Continue the complete re-write
This makes for more interesting reading, but it’s a real time-sink. Going this route will mean much (much!) less frequent updates. It will also put me in the position of putting words into the mouths of the other PCs that they may not have said, and that might be in contrast to how they view their character.
3 A weird combination of the two
This will use most of the existing session write ups as they are, but I’ll re-write the most interesting parts to read more dramatically. I’m not sure exactly how I’ll do this, what the criteria for a dramatic re-write will be, or how well it’ll work in practice. IF it works, it will make for irregular updates. My gut tells me I’ll run hot and cold on this method.
I welcome opinions. I’d like to know what all you folks that have read this far think.
I mentioned in the first post there would be a dramatic change of voice once I got past the first session and that’s where I am now. Session 02’s write up include first person comments from Ren, but thereafter the existing session write ups are neutral and passive in voice; they weren’t written as a novel starring Ren the Wilderness Rogue.
I see three ways I can proceed.
1 Upload the write ups as they are.
This will allow for very frequent updates. I’ll double check for errors and plain bad writing, but won’t change anything else. This means they’ll read much more like an adventure log than what you’ve read so far.
2 Continue the complete re-write
This makes for more interesting reading, but it’s a real time-sink. Going this route will mean much (much!) less frequent updates. It will also put me in the position of putting words into the mouths of the other PCs that they may not have said, and that might be in contrast to how they view their character.
3 A weird combination of the two
This will use most of the existing session write ups as they are, but I’ll re-write the most interesting parts to read more dramatically. I’m not sure exactly how I’ll do this, what the criteria for a dramatic re-write will be, or how well it’ll work in practice. IF it works, it will make for irregular updates. My gut tells me I’ll run hot and cold on this method.
I welcome opinions. I’d like to know what all you folks that have read this far think.
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