Cinerarium
First Post
Midwinter, the Road to Formyr
I awoke long before dawn this morning, the anticipation of the coming journey overwhelming. Who is this Alandindion? What will we find in Formyr? Does Bugdul indeed await us outside of Harren? Will our enemy pursue us thither?
Steam rose from our mouths as we silently greeted each other in the square outside of the temple. We had procured a wagon and some horses for the journey, in part to blend in and in part to give us a quiet place to rest during the trip. If the weather held, we faced a four day trip to Formyr across the Jann Plains, skirting to the south of the Cotswolds.
Fineon suggested that we leave by the south gate, then circle around and proceed west to Formyr, to hopefully throw off any watchers the enemy had on the gates, and buy us some time. We mingled in with the early morning traffic heading out of Harren for the bridge to Purseton or points further south (Cymeria! How I miss it!). The guards at the gate gave us some bother, taking an inventory of our items so we could avoid tax on them on the return, and also our names.
We spent the majority of the day circling the walls of the Sevencity, and by noon a pale sun broke through the grey skies, giving a white glow to the skies above and the snow-covered fallow fields below. Traffic around the city, primarily merchants on their way from Cymeria to Formyr who wished to avoid paying the gate taxes of Harren, joined our wagon, and our progress was good.
I had some time to consider my dealings concerning the Kitchen. I can only hope the seeds planted will bear fruit in the future. My only concern is that the Lordling should fall into trouble and disclose my name as the source of his drug. At least now I will have a place to retire with a confidante, should I ever find one in the city. Also, I am intrigued to note who else frequents the Kitchen. I understand prying too obsequiously will likely lead me to a quick death, but my curiosity is itching to know!
Alturiak 3, East of Formyr
After noon, Zazu spotted four horsemen rapidly gaining on us from the east. They were wearing armor and looked grim from how the owl described them via Kazir. We found a rock outcropping off the side of the road where we could hide the wagon, and prepared an ambush if they turned off the road as well.
Nervously we waited, shivering in the north wind that blew out of the Cotswolds. Toth’s heavy breathing, and the nervous stamping of the horses echoed the pounding of my own heart. We could not see the road from our position, only the approach from it, and were ready to unleash hell on any that came near.
“They approach where we turned off the road…” Kazir whispered, communicating with his familiar circling over head. “They’re slowing. One has dismounted, and is checking the ground. He’s gotten back onto his horse. They’re riding away, towards Formyr.”
We waited nervously for another hour as Zazu followed them. Eventually he returned. “They’ve continued west,” Kazir said, stroking the mottled white feathers of his owl companion. “We should be cautious for an ambush, ourselves.”
Alturiak 4, Formyr
Kazir sent Zazu aloft in the grey light of another chill dawn on the road. Toth doused the fire in a manner that always makes him laugh and show his broken teeth. Kazir and I got into the wagon, Toth and Fin mounted their horses, and off we went.
Around high sun Kazir reported that Zazu had spotted the riders from the day before. They were about an hour ahead of us, he estimated, and still headed for Formyr. We guessed at their motives for some time. Could they be Bugdul and his minions? If so, how had they known we had left Harren? Perhaps the guard at the southern gate who had taken our names, or one of his associates, had given us up? Perhaps the elders who hired Bugdul and murdered Brother Linden hired others to watch all of the gates of Harren? Perhaps these riders were only couriers of some kind, completely unrelated to us. Unfortunately, we could not know until we caught up with them, and met whatever fate lay ahead of us.
The sun was lowering in the sky but still overhead when Fineon spotted them, a dozen spikes glinting on the far horizon. As we neared, I could see them, the legendary spires of Formyr. Overlooking the Jann Plain, these towers were said to be ancient, from the Age of Heroes, and their kind could no longer be built in Valusia. Extremely slender, they rose to a good forty stories, if the rumors were true, and were still in use to this day. Watchmen there could alert Formyr’s famous cavalry far in advance of an enemy assault.
While I was admiring the distant view, still several miles off, Kazir got my attention. “The riders,” he said in his customary deadpan, “have stopped in the forest ahead. Wait, now they continue.”
We raised our guard as we approached the forest. Zazu returned from scouting and silently joined Kazir and me in the wagon. Fin called out from in front of us, his keen vision scanning the approaching woods, “A man waits in the trees ahead, with… a large dog. He wears a grey cloak over leather armor, and has two scimitars in his sash.”
We readied ourselves. Could this be an agent of the enemy? Or a possible friend? Now I could just make his shadow out, the trees in front of us blocking the low sun. “His eyes are strange… lifeless,” Fin said, ominously.
I awoke long before dawn this morning, the anticipation of the coming journey overwhelming. Who is this Alandindion? What will we find in Formyr? Does Bugdul indeed await us outside of Harren? Will our enemy pursue us thither?
Steam rose from our mouths as we silently greeted each other in the square outside of the temple. We had procured a wagon and some horses for the journey, in part to blend in and in part to give us a quiet place to rest during the trip. If the weather held, we faced a four day trip to Formyr across the Jann Plains, skirting to the south of the Cotswolds.
Fineon suggested that we leave by the south gate, then circle around and proceed west to Formyr, to hopefully throw off any watchers the enemy had on the gates, and buy us some time. We mingled in with the early morning traffic heading out of Harren for the bridge to Purseton or points further south (Cymeria! How I miss it!). The guards at the gate gave us some bother, taking an inventory of our items so we could avoid tax on them on the return, and also our names.
We spent the majority of the day circling the walls of the Sevencity, and by noon a pale sun broke through the grey skies, giving a white glow to the skies above and the snow-covered fallow fields below. Traffic around the city, primarily merchants on their way from Cymeria to Formyr who wished to avoid paying the gate taxes of Harren, joined our wagon, and our progress was good.
I had some time to consider my dealings concerning the Kitchen. I can only hope the seeds planted will bear fruit in the future. My only concern is that the Lordling should fall into trouble and disclose my name as the source of his drug. At least now I will have a place to retire with a confidante, should I ever find one in the city. Also, I am intrigued to note who else frequents the Kitchen. I understand prying too obsequiously will likely lead me to a quick death, but my curiosity is itching to know!
Alturiak 3, East of Formyr
After noon, Zazu spotted four horsemen rapidly gaining on us from the east. They were wearing armor and looked grim from how the owl described them via Kazir. We found a rock outcropping off the side of the road where we could hide the wagon, and prepared an ambush if they turned off the road as well.
Nervously we waited, shivering in the north wind that blew out of the Cotswolds. Toth’s heavy breathing, and the nervous stamping of the horses echoed the pounding of my own heart. We could not see the road from our position, only the approach from it, and were ready to unleash hell on any that came near.
“They approach where we turned off the road…” Kazir whispered, communicating with his familiar circling over head. “They’re slowing. One has dismounted, and is checking the ground. He’s gotten back onto his horse. They’re riding away, towards Formyr.”
We waited nervously for another hour as Zazu followed them. Eventually he returned. “They’ve continued west,” Kazir said, stroking the mottled white feathers of his owl companion. “We should be cautious for an ambush, ourselves.”
Alturiak 4, Formyr
Kazir sent Zazu aloft in the grey light of another chill dawn on the road. Toth doused the fire in a manner that always makes him laugh and show his broken teeth. Kazir and I got into the wagon, Toth and Fin mounted their horses, and off we went.
Around high sun Kazir reported that Zazu had spotted the riders from the day before. They were about an hour ahead of us, he estimated, and still headed for Formyr. We guessed at their motives for some time. Could they be Bugdul and his minions? If so, how had they known we had left Harren? Perhaps the guard at the southern gate who had taken our names, or one of his associates, had given us up? Perhaps the elders who hired Bugdul and murdered Brother Linden hired others to watch all of the gates of Harren? Perhaps these riders were only couriers of some kind, completely unrelated to us. Unfortunately, we could not know until we caught up with them, and met whatever fate lay ahead of us.
The sun was lowering in the sky but still overhead when Fineon spotted them, a dozen spikes glinting on the far horizon. As we neared, I could see them, the legendary spires of Formyr. Overlooking the Jann Plain, these towers were said to be ancient, from the Age of Heroes, and their kind could no longer be built in Valusia. Extremely slender, they rose to a good forty stories, if the rumors were true, and were still in use to this day. Watchmen there could alert Formyr’s famous cavalry far in advance of an enemy assault.
While I was admiring the distant view, still several miles off, Kazir got my attention. “The riders,” he said in his customary deadpan, “have stopped in the forest ahead. Wait, now they continue.”
We raised our guard as we approached the forest. Zazu returned from scouting and silently joined Kazir and me in the wagon. Fin called out from in front of us, his keen vision scanning the approaching woods, “A man waits in the trees ahead, with… a large dog. He wears a grey cloak over leather armor, and has two scimitars in his sash.”
We readied ourselves. Could this be an agent of the enemy? Or a possible friend? Now I could just make his shadow out, the trees in front of us blocking the low sun. “His eyes are strange… lifeless,” Fin said, ominously.
