NOW LIVE! Today's the day you meet your new best friend. You don’t have to leave Wolfy behind... In 'Pets & Sidekicks' your companions level up with you!

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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Haraash Saan" data-source="post: 5093935" data-attributes="member: 46615">Our journey to Montfort continued along the dusty and barren roads of Guerney. Due to the oppressive heat Burn was never a good month to travel, yet because of the timing of our journey thankfully we met few travellers and experienced no hostilities. We rested in villages and hamlets when we could, but for the most part spent the cold nights camped under the stars.     It was a difficult and dreadfully boring journey but eventually after many days and with only a minor, and fruitless side trip to Thessingcourt (I had intended to present myself to the Baron but he was not holding court during Burn), our party arrived at my beloved Montfort, sans Ship’s Cat, who stayed in Thessingcourt.    By the time we could see Montfort the air was already thick with the sickly aroma of honey from the surrounding apiaries. Montfort was famous for its honey and more importantly the mead that it produced.     The town itself was nestled in the meeting place of the great river Arinas and its tributary Cel. Although the land itself was flat other than the hillock from which the town got its name. Over one hundred years ago, before the Convocation of Gerech had ravished the lands ‘cleansing’ it of heretics, there stood a modest tower that acted as a sentinel for the river traffic. Now not even rubble remained. Stone was a valuable commodity and it had been stolen from the site over the years to help with constructions of the expanding town.     As we approached the first of the timber buildings of the town proper, a nasally voice called out to us, “Hail travellers! Welcome to Montfort.”    A wiry man sat in the shade of a house, his chair leaning back against its wall.     “Thank you.” I said, as I rode up to him striking my most regal pose.    “That is a splendid mount sir.”  Said the man, commenting on the stead I had purchased in a hamlet many miles before. “But unfortunately I’ll have to ask for ten sickles for its entrance to town and another three for you and each of your companions.” He added with a sly smile.    “Really? You Kerik,“ I had recognised my tax collector in the instant I heard his whining voice, “tax me, Sir Gerard d’Montfort?”    So startled was he that he leapt from his comfortable seat, sending his chair tumbling to the dust.    “My lord! Please forgive me, I, er, must be suffering from the intense heat.” He bumbled in apology.    “Ha ha.” I chuckled good naturedly, “Have no fear Kerik I appreciate your vigilance.”    I reached into my coin purse and threw him the appropriate coinage to cover the tax. You may think I am mad for paying my own tax, but my reasoning was simple. Firstly I will get most of it back, and secondly, my companions were also forced to pay tax after following my own example. I can afford none charity, after all, lording over a town sucks significant expenses.    Word spread quickly, I know not how, but before we had travelled half way along the main thoroughfare there were townsfolk peering out of the windows and children laughing and cheering as they ran alongside my party. Before long there was quite a procession following us.    We rounded a corner at the Drunk Duck, a fine establishment where I had enjoyed many a mead, and I saw my mayor, Hallkel, a tall and lanky man, well past his fortieth year, fussing over his coat and studiously brushing at his sleeves.     “My lord.” He said bowing low. “What a great and unexpected pleasure it is to see you back home.” He was not much one for toadying, and he had been a faithful and trusted advisor of the family for many a year, so I graciously accepted his words.    “Thank you Hallkel. It is good to be back.” I said.    Whilst my companions took quarters at the Drunk Duck I spent the rest of the afternoon with Hallkel discussing with the affairs of Montfort, with Kerik discussing the financial state of the town and also with Valgerd the captain of the few guards I kept and the peasant militia.    Hallkel confirmed Isabella’s rumours that barbarians had been sighted in the lands of Treville directly north of Montfort, although none had been seen on this side of the river.    He also spoke of the unusual reports that children had been kidnapped by the denizens of the forest. Some farmers had even been found naked and with no memory of their own abduction by the wicked beings of the forest depths.     Further, the tales mothers told their children to frighten them off venturing into the forest, were still being told. Strange lights and music were often seen and heard on the eaves of the great woods. It was all nonsense of course but as I sat an listened I displayed a face of thought and care.    Montfort was essentially surrounded by forest. North and also east across the rivers, the trees continued for what would be several days walk. Even to the west and south, passed the tilled lands of Montfort lay more forest.    The news that was most disturbing was that of bandits who had raided both the river trade and the merchants’ wagons on the road to and from Thessingcourt. They had caused cessation of trade to and from Montfort due to the fear that merchants’ guild had over their stock and, to a lesser extent, their guild members safety.    My first order of the day was to send out trackers into the woods to see if they could find any sign of either the barbarians or the brigands. My theory being that if they could find the bandits lair then I could resolve that problem and then ease the fear that kept merchants travelling through Monfort and hence be able to once more tax their goods.    Moxadder and Argonne joined the contingent of five trackers that left Montfort the next morning. They each travelled in a separate direction with instructions to travel one and half days into the forest, before returning by a different route.    The next three days passed quickly. I, for the most part, saw townsfolk that requested my audience and dealt with more affairs of the town. Although one evening I did manage to communicate with Isabella by using the scarf she had sent me. Unfortunately she had no news of barbarians, and had only heard rumours of the bandits. They were yet to cause impact to the one inn in Treville.    The trackers found little in regard to the brigands other than older tracks, but Moxadder and Argonne both had interesting stories to tell.    Argonne had found many very recent barbarian tracks on this side of the Arinas. This raised my fears somewhat as it was the first notification that I had had that they were so close to Montfort, if not already past it.    More interesting was an encounter that he only narrowly escaped. On the evening of his return journey he had sighted a flickering flame in the forest. He carefully crept up to a clearing in which the blaze had been lit and saw strange beings from myth and fable.    Three huge brutish men, at least ten feet tall and weighing over eight hundred pounds, sat around the fire and spoke in some strange bestial tongue. They wore crude clothing made of animal hide, and one even wore a horrible necklace of skulls. Argonne’s description very much fit the tales I had heard of a race of Giants that lived in the mountains north of Guerney. Not only was their very existence a shock, but the fact that they were in my lands was possibly even more puzzling.     Quite wisely Argonne decided to avoid any contact with them, and he made camp elsewhere that night.  The next morning he once again surveyed their camp, but had found that they had already gone. Further investigation showed that they had indeed come from the north and were heading roughly south east.     As always Moxadder’s news was somewhat suspect, but it ended up being the only real information that I could use to track the brigands.    Not only did he find fresh barbarian tracks, but also recent tramplings of the sturdy boots of men. Of course I was somewhat sceptical after he revealed that he had found them after he had experienced what I could only call a drug induced fantasy.    On his first night away from Montfort he swore that he was visited by glowing fairies that tried to tempt him with promises of the flesh. Whilst we all thought it a complete fabrication he brought back with him a strange bone spear that was etched with Faerie markings that Zhontel recognised. He had found it the next morning, not far from his camp site, amongst a group of naked and very dead humans. It appeared that not only had they been seduced but the smiles on their faces showed that they had at least enjoyed their last moments. However the most interesting thing was not the confirmation of an old wives tale, but the fact, according to our very dubious source, that two of the corpses bore the same tattoo of a demonic skull that symbolised Orsa Terminus. It seemed that the bandits in the forest very no ordinary roughians and thugs. They were agents of the Dominion.       </blockquote>

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