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Shadows of Malboria (The Chronicle of Kurgish -updtd 11/09/05)
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<blockquote data-quote="Sir Brennen" data-source="post: 2033568" data-attributes="member: 553"><p><strong>April 12th, 998</strong></p><p></p><p><span style="color: wheat"><span style="font-size: 22px">I</span></span> had been travelling by coach to <strong>Stonehearth</strong>, but decided to walk to the next stop on the route, <strong>Daggerhall</strong>, to get some exercise and hunting in. I almost missed the coach as it was about to pull away from the <strong>Dagger's Edge</strong> tavern. When I hoisted myself into the carriage, my nose was assaulted by the smell of dandied humans. Fortunately, there was another dwarf, though his accent pegged him as an Istyrian.</p><p></p><p>Once I settled in, I looked at my coach companions a little more closely. I noticed the girl with us, who called herself <strong>Charlotte</strong>, actually appeared to have a touch of elven blood in her, though it was hard to tell at first due to the enormous hooded cloak she wore. She seemed to be travelling with the young human <strong>Marcus</strong>, who latter informed us that they were half-siblings. They both seemed a bit secretive, but later I learned this might be because she has some magical talent. Apparently Crystalmarch has some rules regarding such things that the siblings may have bent or broken.</p><p></p><p>Also with us was a priest of the new god, who invited everyone to a game of cards. Though he, <strong>Aleator</strong>, seemed pleasant enough, over the last couple of days he has demonstrated a healthy interest in games of chance. It makes me wonder what his church's stance is on such things, as a priest with such a habit might be tempted to dip into the congregation's coffers.</p><p></p><p><strong>Barrick</strong>, the other dwarf with us, tells me he was travelling to work at a relative's smithy in Stonehearth, but as he was obviously trained as a warrior, I don't believe he was truly ready to lay down his axe for such a mundane existence quite yet. He seemed traditional and pragmatic in his ways, reminding me of my father. I haven't decided yet if this is a good thing. In any event, he appeared the most likely person I might convince to throw his lot in with me, if he was not content to become just a smith.</p><p></p><p>Lastly, there was a rail-thin human, <strong>Handel</strong>, who looked as if he would break in half if you flicked a booger at him. He seemed a nervous fop, so I paid little attention to him, though he seemed to be clutching a satchel as if his life depended on it. Apparently, it did.</p><p></p><p>As we journeyed, I mostly watched and listened to the others. A few hours in, there was a bumping on the roof of the coach. Before we could even speculate, there was another sound the humans thought to be a shot from one of those infernal gnomish hand-cannons. I stood up and glanced out in time to see the driver's body fall by the window. Without thinking, I opened the door and climbed up to the driver's seat.</p><p></p><p>At first I thought it was empty, the driver's cloak lying on the footboards. But as I reached for the reins, an <strong>odd, bald, gray-skinned human</strong> whipped back the cloak, though I don't understand how he could have been hiding there, and pointed a hand-cannon at my face. Suspecting he might be bluffing with an spent gun, I spoke loudly and tried to stall until I thought I heard someone climbing up the other side of the carriage. I convinced the highwayman that I was climbing back down into the carriage, but once I stepped around the side, I reached for Giri's pickaxe hung on my back. Behind me, I saw Charlotte was leaning out the door, gesturing and causing a rope to magically snake by and tie to the reins. </p><p></p><p>Climbing back up to the front, I glanced down the road. We were coming to a fork. There were also three men on horses, with shorn heads and clothing like our friend on the coach. </p><p></p><p>Glancing back, I saw Barrick was hauling himself up the other side of the driver’s seat. As I prepared to attack, the horses veered off the main road onto the fork, and the jolt of the rougher terrain bounced me onto the carriage roof. Barrick fell and I thought him lost. Keeping low, I struck at the brigand as he fumbled for his weapon. Out of nowhere, Barrick leaped back into the seat and grabbed the man, then proceeded to pummel him into unconsciousness.</p><p></p><p>The sound of another gunshot drew my attention behind the wagon; the three riders were quickly bearing down on us. I attempted a couple of bowshots to little effect, while crossbow bolts and all sorts of strange magic seemed to spew from the carriage below me. Barrick climbed on the roof next to me, suggesting that we toss our knocked-out friend over in an attempt to trip a horse. Before we could decide, two of the riders went down from the attacks of our fellows below us. The third began to slow down, his attention seeming to be ahead of the coach. Following his gaze, I saw we were headed at full speed to a tight turn just before a bridge! I clambered back to the front, shouting a warning to everyone, and tried to apply the brake.</p><p></p><p>It wasn't enough. Going round the bend, the coach tipped and rode on two wheels, barely supported by the low wall of the bridge. Then I heard the sound of the other rider's horse galloping next to us, a thump, and then we were toppling over. Barrick and I managed to jump clear. The coach crashed into the water below, killing Hansen and battering the rest, though somehow the priest had managed to stay on the bridge. The rider paced his horse and thought about firing his gun at us, then rode off.</p><p></p><p>After retrieving our gear, we searched for the unconscious highwayman, but did not find him. We also discussed what to do with Handel's body. There were suggestions of leaving him in the woods. I shuddered at the thought. From what the others told me, he had made a showing for himself in the fight, even taking a bullet. I had always been taught that the respect the bodies of warriors were shown was taken into account when Galerra judged their souls. How would it look if we just left him in the woods to the beasts? Thank Darvas they finally decided to take him to a town for proper burial.</p><p></p><p>We also examined the package he had been carrying. The water had ruined the name on the address, but it was to go to <strong>a place in Stonehearth called "The Boar's",</strong> something. Inside was an <strong>ornate clock</strong>, later identified by Marcus as being crafted by a man named <strong>Vittorio Matteo</strong>, some big-wig wizard back in the day. Funny how we just assumed the robbers were after the clock, without really knowing that much about each other, but it turned out it was the right call.</p><p></p><p>We gathered up our wet gear, and after Barrick fashioned a makeshift cart, we headed back to the main road. On the way, we intended to search for the bodies of the fallen riders, as well as our carriage driver.</p><p></p><p>The slain highwaymen were nowhere to be found. As we approached the main road, we could see more riders had appeared. Everyone slipped into the woods, and I stealthily maneuvered up to get a better look. There were three of them, similar to the ones we had seen before, though one of a strikingly different appearance rode up to them - <strong>an elvish looking woman on a large black stallion</strong>. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but she was obviously in charge. She sent one of the riders up the road in the direction of Stonehearth, while she and the others waited at the fork, presumably for us.</p><p></p><p>Our group decided to cut through the woods, and travel parallel to the main road. Unfortunately, that meant we had to leave the cart behind. Barrick volunteered to carry the body. Checking the road once in a while, we soon spied the lone horseman, as he slowly plodded along, searching. We quickly organized a plan to set up an ambush, with Barrick and I moving ahead of the rider, and the rest behind him with their crossbows, should he head back to warn his comrades. We were almost on him when Barrick's scalemail caused him to stumble. Alerted, the brigand turned and galloped back down the road before we could engage him. Someone struck him with a crossbow bolt, and I dashed out onto the road, firing an arrow that slumped him over in his saddle.</p><p></p><p>Seeing he was still alive, we decided to take our strange gray-skinned, white-eyed friend for questioning after he woke. We also liberated his <strong>gun</strong> and I took his jerkin which seemed suited for blending into the forest. Slinging him over his horse, we moved deeper into the woods, and within a couple of hours, made camp for the night.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Sir Brennen, post: 2033568, member: 553"] [b]April 12th, 998[/b] [color=wheat][size=6]I[/size][/color] had been travelling by coach to [b]Stonehearth[/b], but decided to walk to the next stop on the route, [b]Daggerhall[/b], to get some exercise and hunting in. I almost missed the coach as it was about to pull away from the [b]Dagger's Edge[/b] tavern. When I hoisted myself into the carriage, my nose was assaulted by the smell of dandied humans. Fortunately, there was another dwarf, though his accent pegged him as an Istyrian. Once I settled in, I looked at my coach companions a little more closely. I noticed the girl with us, who called herself [b]Charlotte[/b], actually appeared to have a touch of elven blood in her, though it was hard to tell at first due to the enormous hooded cloak she wore. She seemed to be travelling with the young human [b]Marcus[/b], who latter informed us that they were half-siblings. They both seemed a bit secretive, but later I learned this might be because she has some magical talent. Apparently Crystalmarch has some rules regarding such things that the siblings may have bent or broken. Also with us was a priest of the new god, who invited everyone to a game of cards. Though he, [b]Aleator[/b], seemed pleasant enough, over the last couple of days he has demonstrated a healthy interest in games of chance. It makes me wonder what his church's stance is on such things, as a priest with such a habit might be tempted to dip into the congregation's coffers. [b]Barrick[/b], the other dwarf with us, tells me he was travelling to work at a relative's smithy in Stonehearth, but as he was obviously trained as a warrior, I don't believe he was truly ready to lay down his axe for such a mundane existence quite yet. He seemed traditional and pragmatic in his ways, reminding me of my father. I haven't decided yet if this is a good thing. In any event, he appeared the most likely person I might convince to throw his lot in with me, if he was not content to become just a smith. Lastly, there was a rail-thin human, [b]Handel[/b], who looked as if he would break in half if you flicked a booger at him. He seemed a nervous fop, so I paid little attention to him, though he seemed to be clutching a satchel as if his life depended on it. Apparently, it did. As we journeyed, I mostly watched and listened to the others. A few hours in, there was a bumping on the roof of the coach. Before we could even speculate, there was another sound the humans thought to be a shot from one of those infernal gnomish hand-cannons. I stood up and glanced out in time to see the driver's body fall by the window. Without thinking, I opened the door and climbed up to the driver's seat. At first I thought it was empty, the driver's cloak lying on the footboards. But as I reached for the reins, an [b]odd, bald, gray-skinned human[/b] whipped back the cloak, though I don't understand how he could have been hiding there, and pointed a hand-cannon at my face. Suspecting he might be bluffing with an spent gun, I spoke loudly and tried to stall until I thought I heard someone climbing up the other side of the carriage. I convinced the highwayman that I was climbing back down into the carriage, but once I stepped around the side, I reached for Giri's pickaxe hung on my back. Behind me, I saw Charlotte was leaning out the door, gesturing and causing a rope to magically snake by and tie to the reins. Climbing back up to the front, I glanced down the road. We were coming to a fork. There were also three men on horses, with shorn heads and clothing like our friend on the coach. Glancing back, I saw Barrick was hauling himself up the other side of the driver’s seat. As I prepared to attack, the horses veered off the main road onto the fork, and the jolt of the rougher terrain bounced me onto the carriage roof. Barrick fell and I thought him lost. Keeping low, I struck at the brigand as he fumbled for his weapon. Out of nowhere, Barrick leaped back into the seat and grabbed the man, then proceeded to pummel him into unconsciousness. The sound of another gunshot drew my attention behind the wagon; the three riders were quickly bearing down on us. I attempted a couple of bowshots to little effect, while crossbow bolts and all sorts of strange magic seemed to spew from the carriage below me. Barrick climbed on the roof next to me, suggesting that we toss our knocked-out friend over in an attempt to trip a horse. Before we could decide, two of the riders went down from the attacks of our fellows below us. The third began to slow down, his attention seeming to be ahead of the coach. Following his gaze, I saw we were headed at full speed to a tight turn just before a bridge! I clambered back to the front, shouting a warning to everyone, and tried to apply the brake. It wasn't enough. Going round the bend, the coach tipped and rode on two wheels, barely supported by the low wall of the bridge. Then I heard the sound of the other rider's horse galloping next to us, a thump, and then we were toppling over. Barrick and I managed to jump clear. The coach crashed into the water below, killing Hansen and battering the rest, though somehow the priest had managed to stay on the bridge. The rider paced his horse and thought about firing his gun at us, then rode off. After retrieving our gear, we searched for the unconscious highwayman, but did not find him. We also discussed what to do with Handel's body. There were suggestions of leaving him in the woods. I shuddered at the thought. From what the others told me, he had made a showing for himself in the fight, even taking a bullet. I had always been taught that the respect the bodies of warriors were shown was taken into account when Galerra judged their souls. How would it look if we just left him in the woods to the beasts? Thank Darvas they finally decided to take him to a town for proper burial. We also examined the package he had been carrying. The water had ruined the name on the address, but it was to go to [b]a place in Stonehearth called "The Boar's",[/b] something. Inside was an [b]ornate clock[/b], later identified by Marcus as being crafted by a man named [b]Vittorio Matteo[/b], some big-wig wizard back in the day. Funny how we just assumed the robbers were after the clock, without really knowing that much about each other, but it turned out it was the right call. We gathered up our wet gear, and after Barrick fashioned a makeshift cart, we headed back to the main road. On the way, we intended to search for the bodies of the fallen riders, as well as our carriage driver. The slain highwaymen were nowhere to be found. As we approached the main road, we could see more riders had appeared. Everyone slipped into the woods, and I stealthily maneuvered up to get a better look. There were three of them, similar to the ones we had seen before, though one of a strikingly different appearance rode up to them - [b]an elvish looking woman on a large black stallion[/b]. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but she was obviously in charge. She sent one of the riders up the road in the direction of Stonehearth, while she and the others waited at the fork, presumably for us. Our group decided to cut through the woods, and travel parallel to the main road. Unfortunately, that meant we had to leave the cart behind. Barrick volunteered to carry the body. Checking the road once in a while, we soon spied the lone horseman, as he slowly plodded along, searching. We quickly organized a plan to set up an ambush, with Barrick and I moving ahead of the rider, and the rest behind him with their crossbows, should he head back to warn his comrades. We were almost on him when Barrick's scalemail caused him to stumble. Alerted, the brigand turned and galloped back down the road before we could engage him. Someone struck him with a crossbow bolt, and I dashed out onto the road, firing an arrow that slumped him over in his saddle. Seeing he was still alive, we decided to take our strange gray-skinned, white-eyed friend for questioning after he woke. We also liberated his [b]gun[/b] and I took his jerkin which seemed suited for blending into the forest. Slinging him over his horse, we moved deeper into the woods, and within a couple of hours, made camp for the night. [/QUOTE]
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