Valus - A Journal of my Travels

[rickajr]

Dun Beric...

Our approach to Dun Beric was noted by a group of soldiers guarding the gates. As the cry of our arrival rang out, from our viewpoint we could see work was being completed to repair the damage done by the dwarven attack. From the gate approached a mounted contingent of men halting our continuation to the castle’s gates.

The well dressed noble on an obese steed came forward demanding our purpose. I informed him of Sir Eddam’s letter to the Duke and that we were to bring message from the Mayor of Marchford. With a sneer he paused and let it be known that all could pass through the gates except for Motega and Calyx. They would have to pay a toll of a days rations for gaining access to the “safety” of the keep. Biting my tongue I asked Magnus to pay the noble’s toll.

Entrance to the keep allowed a good view of the damage done during the night. Debris littered the yard and repairs were being made in earnest on several sections of the gate – from my viewpoint it looked like the gates held up well with only minor damage.

 

[rickajr]

The Healing...

While the rest of my companions questioned the guards, I also noticed a makeshift ward of cots from which the groans of the injured could be heard. I looked at each man and noted their conditions while calling on Ceria to give a small blessing to provide a bit of healing. It pains me so to see the loyal soldiers discarded by the Duke’s healers. Surely any wounded officers of the Duke’s were taken care of while these men were left to suffer.

In particular was a young lad, no more than a boy really, lying within a shade of death’s grasp. His leather armor pierced, mangled, and caked in dried blood. The wound bandaged, but not with great care as the stench informed all that his time here was short. It was to him that I begged Ceria for her healing love and with a touch of my hands I felt the power of Ceria, not just a small blessing as the others, but a burning passion of strength flowed through my hands and into this boy.

At that the wound on his body closed and the boy’s head and body sprang into my arms. I don’t know what visions he saw or if Ceria spoke to him, but he clasped my frame and wept. My companions say the crowd cheered, I don’t know about that as my view of the boy was interrupted by a shadow and a demand.

 

[rickajr]

Message delivered, message received...

A second and higher ranking noble dispersed the crowd with several armed guards at his service and asking ourselves if we were the ones looking for the Duke. I replied that we were and that we had a message for which we needed an audience with the Duke. After being informed that the Duke was too busy, he introduced himself as Sir Gathil the top advisor to the Duke and to whom we would be given a brief audience.

As diplomatically as possible, I informed Sir Gathil of the mayor’s request for the Duke’s orders and our encounters with the Scorpiot’s and Castle Llyndofare. Sir Gathil’s lack of brains and pompous attitude provided little help as he had no use for Marchford in his plans and dismissed our Scorpiot information as theories.

Furthermore, he informed me that the healing of Ceria was not desired, but that I would be paid for my efforts. With that, a sack of coins was tossed my way with the demands that we remove ourselves from his castle. He yanked the reigns of his horse, barked a few commands to those working on the repairs and left the courtyard.

I did take the coins as they would be useful to our travels and made to take off needing a bit of fresh air to take my mind away from the arrogant ass. As I turned, the boy grabbed my hand and thanked me for Ceria’s work. He announced that his name was Greffan and informed us that his father owned a farm south of the castle and he would be honored if we made a visit. I vowed to the boy that we would and with that the remaining soldiers gave us a rude escort through the gates of Dun Beric.

 

[rickajr]

Road Rage...

Our walk back to Marchford was uneventful other than the fantasies of our young mage Magnus. Does he ever stop yabbering – the boy is a never ending fountain of nonsense about being the greatest mage in history and learning the power of the boom-boom. Ceria will need to forgive me, because at one point I let go a foul and direct curse during one of his lengthy rants. However, my obscenities worked for the result was a few hours of silence, for which I was overjoyed.

During this time of silence, I was able to reflect and found myself disturbed regarding our encounter with the Duke – or at least with the Duke's top advisor – the Sir Gathil. Why is it that a man must elevate himself above those of others through ostentatious acts. Does he not breath the same air as us all, bleed as we all bleed, and will not a swift sword bring death? True nobility should be derived from one's selfless actions, leadership abilities and courage; not from one's ability to humiliate. It's a wonder that they don't believe they're equal to the Risen Gods. Someday the people of Dun Beric will be led by truly noble men.

 

[rickajr]

Left on her own...

Upon reaching Marchford during the setting of the sun, we made for Ford's Keep to see the Mayor and relay the news that Marchford was on her own. While I was passing along Ceria's blessings to the wounded, my comrades found out more about the black skinned dwarves called Dwem and we passed this information along as well. Sir Eddam acknowledged the facts and mentioned that the women and children had already been sent west to Dun Meggan. Our group headed on over to the Boot for the night and with the persuasion of a few coins the half-orc innkeeper Oggut tapped us a keg. During our drinking, Oggut mentioned that he preferred to seek the safe harbor of Dun Meggan and would be out first thing in the morning. As respected guests, he offered that we could stay as long as desired, if we would only lock up prior to leaving. I'm sure someone kept watch that night, but as for me - the drinks replaced all conscious thoughts for the moment.

The following morning hurt, not that it wasn't a bright day with the chirping of birds to bring about the rising of the sun, but the previous night's ale provided for a very rough morning. My prayers to Ceria were brief and I could only hope that She may forgive my indulgences from last night. True to his word, Oggut was gone to head west and left a note reminding us of our vow to lock up the Wet Boot prior to leaving. Scrounging around the inn provided enough food for a hearty breakfast from which a discussion arose regarding our current plans.

While we could stay here and assist in Marchford's defense, the groups decision was to head off to Llyndofare Castle and continue our search for the Scorpiots in an attempt to discover if there was a connection between them and the Dwem. It was not an easy decision that we abandon Marchford to the few grim men in the Keep. However it was pointed out that at times the best defense is an offensive manuever and the confinements of the town puts Calyx and Motega in a fowl mood if there more than a couple days. Once again we left Marchford, but this time the only sounds were from the penants snapping in the wind atop the towers of Ford's Keep.

 

[TheYeti1775]

Shameless...

Shameless plug/bump of my friend's journal.

Magnus the Archmage (in the making)

 

[hobbit_killer]

Good stuff

Title says it all. Keep it up.

Your friendly neighborhood cannibal