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NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
"Second Son of a Second Son" - Bleys' Journal
- Thread starter Rastfar
- Start date
Rastfar
First Post
18, Sek 637 M.Y
Again Laarus has placed me in awkward position. I respect his station as ordained by Ra, but I must also show deference to a fellow Academy mage in his post. Fortunately, I believe that I have remedied the gauche unpleasantries. And I am glad that I did later return, as I have gleaned more specifically on the nature of the Kingstones.
They are the olden tombs of barbarian kings who reigned, in what we now call the Disputed Territories, shortly before the Time of the Six Kingdoms. These caves have been unsealed and ransacked; used by various humanoids as homes, some of which have dug to connect the tomb entrances with deeper lairs. Long ago many orcs lived in the area, but most were wiped out during the Second Humano-Orc War. Now the Kingstones are mostly utilized by a goblin tribe of some vowel-filled mouthful of syllables, and the odd ogre.
It seems that a barbarian tribe called the ‘Ray-Ree’ patrol the area. At one time they guarded the tomb as their duty; but as they either failed or gave it up, they still regard the general area as their hunting and living grounds. I am hopeful that this last bit of information is exactly the benefit we need. My aim is that we should be cunning enough to use this situation to our tactical advantage and make allies of these barbarians. For if indeed I am to believe what I have been told; then it is in the interest of the Ray-Ree to aid us in, or rather in our interest to aid them, in the cleansing of the Kingstones. Of course the trouble shall come in attempting to make them see the merit in our proposition. Especially given my present company. Laarus alone harbors disdainful opinion of the uncivilized ‘greenbacks’. I fear it is indicative of other prejudice which may colour any negotiations with the barbarians, human or otherwise. We shall see.
Young Lord Swann seems to enjoy the ceremony and circumstance accompanying his appointment. He is certainly comfortable with his newly assumed mantle; indeed it his glib talk of politics and the role he shall play in their future which unnerve me. His favor goes to Sir Septimias Benedict Swann and this concerns me more, as the knight is the House vassal assigned such negotiations. The Gold Straw tribe would find diplomacy difficult at best. It is obvious that ‘the Lizardbane’ wouldn’t mind adding a few more trophies to his repute, going so far to ask where there tribe was located. I should have interceded, assured the Lord such trivial matters were best left to those who’d time for these things; not assigned to his prize winning murderer. As it was left, he assured me a place in the Lizardbane’s company. I do not know if I could bear to lead the knight out there, to see the queer expression on Chok’tem’s face as he attempted to discern why, again, these humans thought it alright to lie to him, to hear their screams as a host of warriors descended on them, all the while the lizardman knowing I broke my oath to them.
I do realize that I put the rest of the group in an impossible situation, involuntarily asking them to tarry here while I saw to the end of the task I enlisted myself too. In an effort to be expeditious and realizing that indeed, even after our passage, this is really a concern for the local watch-mage, and as such is his jurisdiction, I consulted with Oroleniel. He offered sound advice. I am to invoke a clause in which precedent exists where the half-elf will stand in my stead as it is a matter of seniority. I am sure that Lord Swann will find this arrangement agreeable.
Laarus has exhibited illness three times now. First on the eve of the 10th, then yesterday during our ride here, and now this evening as we congregated after dinner. Either he has a weak constitution or there is some malady more foul at work. I hope for our sake that it is the former, and not my paranoia of the latter; the fate that befell my mother was an end most unbecoming. Not to mention what it reveals of piety.
Again Laarus has placed me in awkward position. I respect his station as ordained by Ra, but I must also show deference to a fellow Academy mage in his post. Fortunately, I believe that I have remedied the gauche unpleasantries. And I am glad that I did later return, as I have gleaned more specifically on the nature of the Kingstones.
They are the olden tombs of barbarian kings who reigned, in what we now call the Disputed Territories, shortly before the Time of the Six Kingdoms. These caves have been unsealed and ransacked; used by various humanoids as homes, some of which have dug to connect the tomb entrances with deeper lairs. Long ago many orcs lived in the area, but most were wiped out during the Second Humano-Orc War. Now the Kingstones are mostly utilized by a goblin tribe of some vowel-filled mouthful of syllables, and the odd ogre.
It seems that a barbarian tribe called the ‘Ray-Ree’ patrol the area. At one time they guarded the tomb as their duty; but as they either failed or gave it up, they still regard the general area as their hunting and living grounds. I am hopeful that this last bit of information is exactly the benefit we need. My aim is that we should be cunning enough to use this situation to our tactical advantage and make allies of these barbarians. For if indeed I am to believe what I have been told; then it is in the interest of the Ray-Ree to aid us in, or rather in our interest to aid them, in the cleansing of the Kingstones. Of course the trouble shall come in attempting to make them see the merit in our proposition. Especially given my present company. Laarus alone harbors disdainful opinion of the uncivilized ‘greenbacks’. I fear it is indicative of other prejudice which may colour any negotiations with the barbarians, human or otherwise. We shall see.
Young Lord Swann seems to enjoy the ceremony and circumstance accompanying his appointment. He is certainly comfortable with his newly assumed mantle; indeed it his glib talk of politics and the role he shall play in their future which unnerve me. His favor goes to Sir Septimias Benedict Swann and this concerns me more, as the knight is the House vassal assigned such negotiations. The Gold Straw tribe would find diplomacy difficult at best. It is obvious that ‘the Lizardbane’ wouldn’t mind adding a few more trophies to his repute, going so far to ask where there tribe was located. I should have interceded, assured the Lord such trivial matters were best left to those who’d time for these things; not assigned to his prize winning murderer. As it was left, he assured me a place in the Lizardbane’s company. I do not know if I could bear to lead the knight out there, to see the queer expression on Chok’tem’s face as he attempted to discern why, again, these humans thought it alright to lie to him, to hear their screams as a host of warriors descended on them, all the while the lizardman knowing I broke my oath to them.
I do realize that I put the rest of the group in an impossible situation, involuntarily asking them to tarry here while I saw to the end of the task I enlisted myself too. In an effort to be expeditious and realizing that indeed, even after our passage, this is really a concern for the local watch-mage, and as such is his jurisdiction, I consulted with Oroleniel. He offered sound advice. I am to invoke a clause in which precedent exists where the half-elf will stand in my stead as it is a matter of seniority. I am sure that Lord Swann will find this arrangement agreeable.
Laarus has exhibited illness three times now. First on the eve of the 10th, then yesterday during our ride here, and now this evening as we congregated after dinner. Either he has a weak constitution or there is some malady more foul at work. I hope for our sake that it is the former, and not my paranoia of the latter; the fate that befell my mother was an end most unbecoming. Not to mention what it reveals of piety.
Rastfar
First Post
19 Sek, 637 M.Y.
Again the vote has turned against me. As I ponder on it now, I realize only once did I find myself in the majority, and then only Telemakhos opposed the Beach Road. Obviously there is no accounting for the acumen of others.
If I only had the funds I would be able to scribe Detect Secret Doors from Oroleniel, truly a rare spell in my focus. And one that may prove quite effective if our forays found us near the Kingstones. I will have to return to learn this spell in the future. It would have been nice to have secured some of that Pinesmoke for the road.
For now we wait. Telemakhos tends to some final needs. We have passage on an overnight ferry to Tribunisport. The Winter home. And still the clandestine nature of our operation prevents my announcement. I do long to see it again, as I have forgotten much of my only prior trip there. I was still just a young boy then.
But at the same time my excitement is stymied by the intelligence of this plot against the Wetherwax fleet. Telemakhos postulates that just such an attack will be initiated from Kraken’s Cove, the inference of which leads one to believe it physical. But I am contemplating another outcome. How may this attack be conducted with firm words instead of fire and swords? Here is the advantage, where one can skulk, recoil from their backstabbing, and vanish, none the wiser. I will need consultation to this end. But none of my companions seem apt to the task, save one. I do not trust Telemakhos, but I may need his knowledge of intrigue more than my complicity in ignorance.
There are more than a few Winters in service of the RMN fleet, and any threat is one that jeopardizes them. I find myself in a terrible position. Proud to Serve – this is the motto of House Devenpeck. They are dutiful, as am I. I just don’t know to whom I must pay my allegiance to.
‘When you settle for less than you deserve, you get less than you settled for.’
Again the vote has turned against me. As I ponder on it now, I realize only once did I find myself in the majority, and then only Telemakhos opposed the Beach Road. Obviously there is no accounting for the acumen of others.
If I only had the funds I would be able to scribe Detect Secret Doors from Oroleniel, truly a rare spell in my focus. And one that may prove quite effective if our forays found us near the Kingstones. I will have to return to learn this spell in the future. It would have been nice to have secured some of that Pinesmoke for the road.
For now we wait. Telemakhos tends to some final needs. We have passage on an overnight ferry to Tribunisport. The Winter home. And still the clandestine nature of our operation prevents my announcement. I do long to see it again, as I have forgotten much of my only prior trip there. I was still just a young boy then.
But at the same time my excitement is stymied by the intelligence of this plot against the Wetherwax fleet. Telemakhos postulates that just such an attack will be initiated from Kraken’s Cove, the inference of which leads one to believe it physical. But I am contemplating another outcome. How may this attack be conducted with firm words instead of fire and swords? Here is the advantage, where one can skulk, recoil from their backstabbing, and vanish, none the wiser. I will need consultation to this end. But none of my companions seem apt to the task, save one. I do not trust Telemakhos, but I may need his knowledge of intrigue more than my complicity in ignorance.
There are more than a few Winters in service of the RMN fleet, and any threat is one that jeopardizes them. I find myself in a terrible position. Proud to Serve – this is the motto of House Devenpeck. They are dutiful, as am I. I just don’t know to whom I must pay my allegiance to.
‘When you settle for less than you deserve, you get less than you settled for.’
Rastfar
First Post
20 Sek, 637 M.Y.
We have not yet been together a fortnight and yet it feels longer. I imagine that despite the brevity, the time I have spent with these people serves to make the events occurring within that period more significant. In this way it is easier to learn more of an individual than in three seasons of casual interaction. Perhaps this is why Timotheus goads me. I must somehow provoke him unknowingly: such that he seeks to enlist my ire. I would be wont to cross more than words with him, though he is a seasoned soldier and would surely show me my humility. And I concede that he chafes me, but I had not a notion that my derision was so extroverted.
For every time he insists on calling me eggplant, he does no disservice to me, but rather one to those who sought to colour me. He insults my fellow alumni, the naming tradition, and the very Academy of Wizardry itself. For I had no part in becoming in the Aubergine, beyond which my fellow classmates saw it of me; and while he may not be able to change being baseborn, having the poor opinion of a Watch-Mage, or a lack of intellectual scope, I took no part in making him that way. It is my hope that by ignoring his slander and continuing to set a higher example, one of value, merit, and caliber, that he can learn of virtue from me as I can expand on my knowledge of tactics and martial skills as instructed by him. My fear is that he derives his courage from liquor, his strength found in the fathoms of a flagon. He has a fondness for the drink rivaled only by those who bear great burdens of woe. Even as we travel he is sure to press a flask to his lips.
Is it that I volunteered to share a room with Victoria? Did he wish for some other design?
In truth it would have been most appropriate for Laarus to share her accommodations, but I was loathe to share with Timotheus and still a trifle resentful of Laarus for his impertinence with Oroleniel. Victoria does not speak much and we get along well enough. She does not mince words, nor hesitate to speak her mind. She is curt and upstanding, if a bit stiff. I find her to be honorable, forthright, and we are in agreement the majority of the time. I would not have preferred to while away the time with anyone else, awaiting the determination of heir Briareus’ scheming.
My only wish is that Telemakhos is not leading us into a situation proving more than we are equipped to handle. While his intentions may be philanthropic, it is possible that he has been fleeced. As it is his custom to only satisfy the will of those that would gratify his own, I do not expect that his judgment shall prove shrewd. I anticipate we will be in dire peril shortly after our arrival.
We have not yet been together a fortnight and yet it feels longer. I imagine that despite the brevity, the time I have spent with these people serves to make the events occurring within that period more significant. In this way it is easier to learn more of an individual than in three seasons of casual interaction. Perhaps this is why Timotheus goads me. I must somehow provoke him unknowingly: such that he seeks to enlist my ire. I would be wont to cross more than words with him, though he is a seasoned soldier and would surely show me my humility. And I concede that he chafes me, but I had not a notion that my derision was so extroverted.
For every time he insists on calling me eggplant, he does no disservice to me, but rather one to those who sought to colour me. He insults my fellow alumni, the naming tradition, and the very Academy of Wizardry itself. For I had no part in becoming in the Aubergine, beyond which my fellow classmates saw it of me; and while he may not be able to change being baseborn, having the poor opinion of a Watch-Mage, or a lack of intellectual scope, I took no part in making him that way. It is my hope that by ignoring his slander and continuing to set a higher example, one of value, merit, and caliber, that he can learn of virtue from me as I can expand on my knowledge of tactics and martial skills as instructed by him. My fear is that he derives his courage from liquor, his strength found in the fathoms of a flagon. He has a fondness for the drink rivaled only by those who bear great burdens of woe. Even as we travel he is sure to press a flask to his lips.
Is it that I volunteered to share a room with Victoria? Did he wish for some other design?
In truth it would have been most appropriate for Laarus to share her accommodations, but I was loathe to share with Timotheus and still a trifle resentful of Laarus for his impertinence with Oroleniel. Victoria does not speak much and we get along well enough. She does not mince words, nor hesitate to speak her mind. She is curt and upstanding, if a bit stiff. I find her to be honorable, forthright, and we are in agreement the majority of the time. I would not have preferred to while away the time with anyone else, awaiting the determination of heir Briareus’ scheming.
My only wish is that Telemakhos is not leading us into a situation proving more than we are equipped to handle. While his intentions may be philanthropic, it is possible that he has been fleeced. As it is his custom to only satisfy the will of those that would gratify his own, I do not expect that his judgment shall prove shrewd. I anticipate we will be in dire peril shortly after our arrival.
Rastfar
First Post
21 Sek, 637 M.Y.
This has all been a mistake. Telémahkos was set up. It turns out the real reason his source wanted us to come here was to assassinate someone. He pulled a square of paper from his belt with the name Harliss Javel on it shortly after confessing. Now we are besieged by these smugglers turned bullywug, smugglywugs as Timotheus aptly dubbed them, and we have no idea as to the depth of their number. There could have been five score or more men in those caverns. Though there is a fair amount of evidence to suggest that there was a great deal of in-fighting before our arrival.
At present my dilemma is one of the greatest importance. As of yet, we have no way to determine what is the cause of the transformation in these poor souls. If it is some curse, plague, virus, or disease, should we flee, we could communicate it to the rest of the Thrician populace. And then who knows when it would stop. If my suspicions prove correct, and I pray Isis they do not, then it is best that this nefarious infection die here, with us. Am I prepared to see the others dead to do so? Have I the mettle to set my steel to the task? I know not. I only know that I shall reserve the energies I have until I am able to discern more definitively which course to pursue. May the Mother bless us, as she shone upon my watch tonight, and may the rise of Matet bring more light to our situation.
This has all been a mistake. Telémahkos was set up. It turns out the real reason his source wanted us to come here was to assassinate someone. He pulled a square of paper from his belt with the name Harliss Javel on it shortly after confessing. Now we are besieged by these smugglers turned bullywug, smugglywugs as Timotheus aptly dubbed them, and we have no idea as to the depth of their number. There could have been five score or more men in those caverns. Though there is a fair amount of evidence to suggest that there was a great deal of in-fighting before our arrival.
At present my dilemma is one of the greatest importance. As of yet, we have no way to determine what is the cause of the transformation in these poor souls. If it is some curse, plague, virus, or disease, should we flee, we could communicate it to the rest of the Thrician populace. And then who knows when it would stop. If my suspicions prove correct, and I pray Isis they do not, then it is best that this nefarious infection die here, with us. Am I prepared to see the others dead to do so? Have I the mettle to set my steel to the task? I know not. I only know that I shall reserve the energies I have until I am able to discern more definitively which course to pursue. May the Mother bless us, as she shone upon my watch tonight, and may the rise of Matet bring more light to our situation.
Rastfar
First Post
22 Sek, 637 M.Y.
I have had cause and opportunity to reacquaint myself with Telemakhos. And I am glad for having done so. While he may be a fool for love, perhaps his reputation is a bit undeserving. Beneath his socially affable and whimsical exterior lies a contemplative and caring young man. He has keen insight, if poor decision making processes, and is perceptive in the manners of man’s mischiefs. I have decided to trust him with the secret I now bear, though he did not realize the full implication of its meaning, or perhaps is more coy than I realize. I feel better having confided in him despite my instincts to mistrust his ability to maintain secrecy. I must assume that it is Paulien and the children that give comfort as to his word to me.
With Telemakhos’ aid I am now able to begin spinning scenarios in which the plot against House Wetherwax may be consummated. Upon our return to the cove, I must remember to uncover the names of the sunken vessels. Perhaps one will lend clues to unraveling such a plot. Perhaps one of the sunken vessels was captured from House Wetherwax, or the RMN, and was to be used to some malevolent end. Would this not lend the evidence needed against House Wetherwax to wrest control of the RMN from them?
I have confided in my brother-in-law that what information I do have implies a list of charges to be brought against the Wetherwax House in the Royal Courts. In an effort to help make the charges more convincing, some maneuvering must be done in proper political circles, in order to lay false accusation and unjust claims at the Tribunisport doorstep. The plan involves secrecy to be sure and a swift indictment so that House Wetherwax should have little to no time to develop a cohesive defense.
My only fear is that those who know of my knowledge shall cease to be comfortable with me as a loose end. Or perhaps, intend to use me as a patsy or pawn in their game. Involving Telemakhos may endanger him the same. Or any others I should confide in. I am hesitant to approach the wrong individual in confidence, as perhaps they may even be a part of the plot. I wish I knew the proper course of action, but I daresay, I am uncertain whether I could even entertain confidence in my father. As Telemakhos has made me peer into the pool of political possibilities, I begin to see the many faces in its facets. Perhaps an audience with the Margrave herself?
‘All truths are easy to understand once discovered; the endeavor is to discover them.’
I have had cause and opportunity to reacquaint myself with Telemakhos. And I am glad for having done so. While he may be a fool for love, perhaps his reputation is a bit undeserving. Beneath his socially affable and whimsical exterior lies a contemplative and caring young man. He has keen insight, if poor decision making processes, and is perceptive in the manners of man’s mischiefs. I have decided to trust him with the secret I now bear, though he did not realize the full implication of its meaning, or perhaps is more coy than I realize. I feel better having confided in him despite my instincts to mistrust his ability to maintain secrecy. I must assume that it is Paulien and the children that give comfort as to his word to me.
With Telemakhos’ aid I am now able to begin spinning scenarios in which the plot against House Wetherwax may be consummated. Upon our return to the cove, I must remember to uncover the names of the sunken vessels. Perhaps one will lend clues to unraveling such a plot. Perhaps one of the sunken vessels was captured from House Wetherwax, or the RMN, and was to be used to some malevolent end. Would this not lend the evidence needed against House Wetherwax to wrest control of the RMN from them?
I have confided in my brother-in-law that what information I do have implies a list of charges to be brought against the Wetherwax House in the Royal Courts. In an effort to help make the charges more convincing, some maneuvering must be done in proper political circles, in order to lay false accusation and unjust claims at the Tribunisport doorstep. The plan involves secrecy to be sure and a swift indictment so that House Wetherwax should have little to no time to develop a cohesive defense.
My only fear is that those who know of my knowledge shall cease to be comfortable with me as a loose end. Or perhaps, intend to use me as a patsy or pawn in their game. Involving Telemakhos may endanger him the same. Or any others I should confide in. I am hesitant to approach the wrong individual in confidence, as perhaps they may even be a part of the plot. I wish I knew the proper course of action, but I daresay, I am uncertain whether I could even entertain confidence in my father. As Telemakhos has made me peer into the pool of political possibilities, I begin to see the many faces in its facets. Perhaps an audience with the Margrave herself?
‘All truths are easy to understand once discovered; the endeavor is to discover them.’
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Rastfar
First Post
23 Sek, 637 M.Y.
We have cleared the cove. Again we wait for the recovery of the fallen. Telemakhos, Markos, and I have recovered what salvageable we can and slowly they load the Sea Wyvern. Still we have no sign of whoever was building that raft. They are either hiding well or were eaten. At least I am fairly certain that we are in no danger of infection.
I am intrigued by these folios. They were warded by a glyph, housed in a glass case, I must assume in an attempt to preserve from these harsher briny elements. The room itself was as a trophy room, bearing large mandibles, skulls, and nameplates of ships, lending some other explanation. They emanate magic from within; perhaps they are only the housing for some greater treasure. While I am anxious to unlock the secrets therein, this is neither the time nor place for such potentially dangerous endeavours.
I tend to the fallen. Never have I been more glad to have paid attention in the field medicine classes at the Academy, and I would wager, nor have my companions. My bandage supply does run low.
Upon our return to Tribunisport, I must remember to report having found the final fate of the RMN Sea-Tamer. It appears that Misery Tlalok’s Striking Shadow did its work well.
We have cleared the cove. Again we wait for the recovery of the fallen. Telemakhos, Markos, and I have recovered what salvageable we can and slowly they load the Sea Wyvern. Still we have no sign of whoever was building that raft. They are either hiding well or were eaten. At least I am fairly certain that we are in no danger of infection.
I am intrigued by these folios. They were warded by a glyph, housed in a glass case, I must assume in an attempt to preserve from these harsher briny elements. The room itself was as a trophy room, bearing large mandibles, skulls, and nameplates of ships, lending some other explanation. They emanate magic from within; perhaps they are only the housing for some greater treasure. While I am anxious to unlock the secrets therein, this is neither the time nor place for such potentially dangerous endeavours.
I tend to the fallen. Never have I been more glad to have paid attention in the field medicine classes at the Academy, and I would wager, nor have my companions. My bandage supply does run low.
Upon our return to Tribunisport, I must remember to report having found the final fate of the RMN Sea-Tamer. It appears that Misery Tlalok’s Striking Shadow did its work well.
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Rastfar
First Post
23 Sek, 637 M.Y.
Harliss Javel. I have written it down, so she shall not be forgotten. Her story has more holes than her ship, the Fast Facet, which now lies in the silt. As she tells it, the woman is the sole survivor of the savagery committed here.
Harliss was hired to transport a black pearl of some magical power to Kraken’s Cove. By whom remains a mystery to me. I assume this was so Leemo Varand could investigate it. As it turns out Vanthus Vanderboren was privy to this information, happened to stow away on her ship with his lover, and attempted its theft coincidentally with the Fast Facet’s arrival at the cove. Harliss caught and confronted him. They fought. By coming into contact with the pearl, the blood Harliss drew from Vanthus initated a curse causing many of the cove’s inhabitants to mutate into caustic smuggliwug creatures. She, nor Vanthus, of course, did not. Amazingly, he was able to escape with daring feats of leaping and swimming. Harliss now informs us that this pearl is also a rare religious artifact to bullywugs. Whom, of all habitations in Thricia, just so happen to dwell not too far from this cove. Convenient. Enraged Harliss sent her first mate, a half-orc named Drevoraz, who luckily also escaped the magical smuggliwug curse, to convince these bullywugs that Vanthus has stolen their precious pearl. He must be one charismatic half-orc pirate. Fortunately, Drevoraz knows just where to find these bullywug fanatics and happens to have another ship waiting in the wings somewhere, since now the Fast Facet has sunk. Supposedly, they are all now en route to the Vanderboren manse to deliver Harliss’ revenge upon Lady Lavinia and any other poor unfortunates whom they may find there. As it happens, should we leave right away, we may be able to catch them. Circumstantial at best. This is the story that Harliss has convinced Telemakhos and Markos of. These are the words of a confessed criminal, that we throw caution to the wind for. This is the pack of lies that we risk the life of Laarus for. Another eight hours and we would be at our full compliment again. Timotheus sees nothing left to kill, so is ready to flee. But, I am astonished that Victoria does not stand with me in this, even granting Harliss her sworn shield. How can she believe that Harliss is conveniently going to spoon feed us all of this time sensitive information, despite viewing us as a threat to her plans for vengeance? That is hardly worth transport to Quillton proper. Something is amiss.
And still there are many questions. Why does Markos admire Harliss, and seem to revel at the prospect of Lady Lavinia's murder? Was the red ship we spotted possibly her first mate’s ship? Confirmation as such would lend proof to her fable. Who would trust a smuggler and a pirate to transport a rare valuable relic? How would Vanthus happen to stow away on her ship? If I am to believe who Harliss says she is, she would not only know every hand on her own ship, but the mold in every hold. As we anchored in the ocean for near two days, how did we fail to notice Drevoraz or a ship laden with bullywugs pass by? Does Harliss seek to hurry us from the cove, knowing the imminent arrival of those she would rather protect? Are there records of otherwise reputable ships in the recovered ledgers that Markos, and I, believe she holds? Their perusal would also lend more answers. Does she seek to claim this cove or other uncovered booty for herself? Do I trust the hushed tones passed between Markos and this mistress to piracy? I am certain there is more to be learned here.
Either he performed an amazing feat of strength or he lies to aid his pirate kin, but after Markos’ plunge into the coves waters he resurfaced with the tale of having found this black pearl’s broken pieces. Too bad he did not cleverly think to recover the shards. Their delivery would have gone a long way to convincing any such bullywugs posing a threat to the Vanderboren manse; and me of Harliss’ tall tale.
‘I see it as my duty to show things as they are, not as they should be.’
Harliss Javel. I have written it down, so she shall not be forgotten. Her story has more holes than her ship, the Fast Facet, which now lies in the silt. As she tells it, the woman is the sole survivor of the savagery committed here.
Harliss was hired to transport a black pearl of some magical power to Kraken’s Cove. By whom remains a mystery to me. I assume this was so Leemo Varand could investigate it. As it turns out Vanthus Vanderboren was privy to this information, happened to stow away on her ship with his lover, and attempted its theft coincidentally with the Fast Facet’s arrival at the cove. Harliss caught and confronted him. They fought. By coming into contact with the pearl, the blood Harliss drew from Vanthus initated a curse causing many of the cove’s inhabitants to mutate into caustic smuggliwug creatures. She, nor Vanthus, of course, did not. Amazingly, he was able to escape with daring feats of leaping and swimming. Harliss now informs us that this pearl is also a rare religious artifact to bullywugs. Whom, of all habitations in Thricia, just so happen to dwell not too far from this cove. Convenient. Enraged Harliss sent her first mate, a half-orc named Drevoraz, who luckily also escaped the magical smuggliwug curse, to convince these bullywugs that Vanthus has stolen their precious pearl. He must be one charismatic half-orc pirate. Fortunately, Drevoraz knows just where to find these bullywug fanatics and happens to have another ship waiting in the wings somewhere, since now the Fast Facet has sunk. Supposedly, they are all now en route to the Vanderboren manse to deliver Harliss’ revenge upon Lady Lavinia and any other poor unfortunates whom they may find there. As it happens, should we leave right away, we may be able to catch them. Circumstantial at best. This is the story that Harliss has convinced Telemakhos and Markos of. These are the words of a confessed criminal, that we throw caution to the wind for. This is the pack of lies that we risk the life of Laarus for. Another eight hours and we would be at our full compliment again. Timotheus sees nothing left to kill, so is ready to flee. But, I am astonished that Victoria does not stand with me in this, even granting Harliss her sworn shield. How can she believe that Harliss is conveniently going to spoon feed us all of this time sensitive information, despite viewing us as a threat to her plans for vengeance? That is hardly worth transport to Quillton proper. Something is amiss.
And still there are many questions. Why does Markos admire Harliss, and seem to revel at the prospect of Lady Lavinia's murder? Was the red ship we spotted possibly her first mate’s ship? Confirmation as such would lend proof to her fable. Who would trust a smuggler and a pirate to transport a rare valuable relic? How would Vanthus happen to stow away on her ship? If I am to believe who Harliss says she is, she would not only know every hand on her own ship, but the mold in every hold. As we anchored in the ocean for near two days, how did we fail to notice Drevoraz or a ship laden with bullywugs pass by? Does Harliss seek to hurry us from the cove, knowing the imminent arrival of those she would rather protect? Are there records of otherwise reputable ships in the recovered ledgers that Markos, and I, believe she holds? Their perusal would also lend more answers. Does she seek to claim this cove or other uncovered booty for herself? Do I trust the hushed tones passed between Markos and this mistress to piracy? I am certain there is more to be learned here.
Either he performed an amazing feat of strength or he lies to aid his pirate kin, but after Markos’ plunge into the coves waters he resurfaced with the tale of having found this black pearl’s broken pieces. Too bad he did not cleverly think to recover the shards. Their delivery would have gone a long way to convincing any such bullywugs posing a threat to the Vanderboren manse; and me of Harliss’ tall tale.
‘I see it as my duty to show things as they are, not as they should be.’
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