Cinerarium
First Post
Nightal 27
We are out of that tomb, thank the gods, but not after spending much of our rest time yesterday bickering over what to do next. I am for returning to the Hills estate and telling the tale of Matrim’s death to his family. Others, Gunn in particular, are opposed. But they have come to reason and have dropped their objections for the time being. I fear, though, that Gunn and I have not been told all there is to know about the group’s contract with Lordling Matrim, and the state of affairs when they left the Hills estate.
We emerged from the tomb this morning and ran into a curious wood elf and his canine companion. This elf, Fineon, claimed he was wandering in this swamp of death when he saw us from a distance. He proceeded to follow us, and when we entered the barrow mound, waited for us on the surface. One wonders how much longer he would have waited.
At any rate, he seems like a decent fellow, and any aid in a time such as this is welcome. I have noticed certain tokens on him that indicate he may be a priest as well as a fighter. I would like to talk with him and find out more about him. For the time being he has offered to guide us swiftly out of the swamp and back to the Hills estate.
Nightal 30, the Road to Purseton
A great deal has passed in the last two days! And I know little of what it portends.
A short way from the Hills estate we were intercepted by a group of several horsemen bearing the Hills arms on their tabards. They treated us well and escorted us to the estate itself, a motte and bailey keep above a small town. Again we were treated very well, and left to bathe in private rooms before an audience with Lord Byron himself. The others showed a great deal of trepidation concerning the audience. I still could not convince myself that Lord Byron would wish us ill for the death of his son, as it was wholly beyond our control. At any rate, the bath was very welcome and I finally felt human and decent again after so long in the field.
On our way to the great hall, Kazir and I decided to let Kazir speak, as he and not I had been involved in the original contract. I had some misgiving about letting the Aradeeti speak, as I am better acquainted with the social graces of courtly life in Luc Valu. He was the best among Matrim’s companions, however, and at any rate Kazir conveyed himself well, considering the surprises we were to face.
First, Lord Byron was completely healthy. From what I had heard, he had been suffering a war wound for the last two decades and distrusted all clerical healing. The Lord Byron confronting us, however, was hale and hearty for his age. He began by pronouncing us the “heroes who saved his son Matrim’s life.” We were shocked, though I held my cool. Matrim was dead and buried according to the reports of my comrades. What game was Hills playing? And over the life of his son, no less?
At this point I noticed the chancellor (later revealed to be named Drummel) at Hills’s elbow, an elderly man who only whispered in Lord Byron’s ear as we approached. Drummel was clothed in black robes, and was more ancient than any man I had seen before. Lord Byron went on to thank us for saving his son, examined our contract, took the enchanted sword of his ancestor’s as Lordling Matrim’s share of the treasure, and bought the shield as well. He invited us to a feast that evening, and sent us to collect our booty in the treasury.
Still unsure of what to make of these events, we proceeded to the treasury in the dungeons of the keep. En route, I heard a woman wailing out Matrim’s name, abruptly silenced. Could it have been Lady Bryntala, wife of Lord Byron, wailing? I had heard rumors that the Lady had lived in seclusion in the keep ever since Lord Byron’s brother died in the same battle that wounded Byron. The common explanation for her seclusion was that she and Byron’s brother had been lovers, and she was in mourning. The cry I heard certainly sounded like the wail of a mourner – but the wail of a mother for her son, not of a lover.
We were not able to investigate further, as we were upon the treasury itself. The guard spoke a password – “Morning Dove” in Valusian – and the door opened. They gave us our reward, and we retired to my chamber to discuss the events.
Our discussions led nowhere, however. Last the group had seen, Lordling Matrim was under a cairn of stones in the swamp, quite dead. Also, Lord Byron was crippled. How did the pieces fit? The only new piece of the puzzle was the appearance of Chancellor Drummel. We agreed to attend the feast, and I left to gather more information if possible. My inquiries got me little but a bottle of Gryphon Hills wine and a lewd advance from the elderly mistress of the kitchens, and so I met up with the party before the feast.
The feast itself was quite boring, and there was little opportunity to gather information. Lord Byron and his chancellor left before I had a chance to speak with them. Attempting to get any more information possible, Fineon and I approached Lordling Lenardo, Lord Byron’s eldest son. Fineon was in possession of a flask of Arn brandy, and we guessed that Lenardo would appreciate the expensive drink. He did indeed, though already deep in his cups, and challenged Fineon to a game of blood dice.
As an aside, should this journal ever be read in lands where blood dice is not popular, I shall endeavor to explain the rules of the game. It is quite simple. Two players roll a single die each. Whoever gets the higher result may throw a dagger at the loser. The game continues usually to first blood, sometimes to unconsciousness or death. I’d heard of the game being played in certain taverns along Cymeria’s wharves, but I’d never thought to find it here, in a house of nobility.
Fineon refused to play, angering Lenardo, and I stepped in his stead to cool the Lordling’s blood. Pell was chosen as Lenardo’s second, as it would be a crime to throw a dagger at the Lordling himself. I won the first two tosses, and intentionally missed. Lenardo’s anger grew. On the third toss, Lenardo won, and threw a dagger at me, badly missing. In his anger, he stabbed at me, missing repeatedly in his drunkenness before finally wounding me. Though the wound was grievous, I faked unconsciousness, hoping to end the duel and give some honor to the Lordling. Apparently, my bluff was unsuccessful, and Lenardo ordered Fineon and me thrown into the dungeon. Pell was able to distract the Lordling long enough for Sir Gorful, Hills’s master at arms, to break up the commotion.
Lenardo left for his chambers, backing down in the face of Gorful’s calmness, and Sir Gorful convinced us that we should leave as well, or face Lenardo’s wrath in the morning. Sir Gorful also told us of how the chancellor had arrived only a few days before, bearing a wounded Lordling Matrim. Since that time, Matrim had not been seen, nor had the guards who helped Matrim to his room. The chancellor, apparently a priest of Oghma, healed Lord Byron and was accepted as his trusted advisor.
I wrote a quick letter to the chancellor, telling him of our status but not mentioning Matrim’s death. I included the fact that we would be staying in the Sevencity should he wish to contact us.
We departed the Hills estate in the darkness and headed to Purseton, hoping to gain as much distance before dawn as possible. Several hours out of the estate, we were stopped in the road by hobgoblin brigands, who denied our passage. A fight ensued that we handily won, and we captured two of the bandits. Interrogating them later, we found they had been hired by an old, thin woman in brown and black robes, and paid with old coins. They had been hired to stop us from passing, and had been working for some time guarding the road and attacking other caravans along the way. We let the two go, upon which the leader came back to us under a sign of peace. He said that we did better by him than he would have in our place, and was grateful. He introduced himself as Steel Jack, and let us know that we could count on him for information of this area if we ever needed it. He also let us know that the woman was not alone, that she was in fact accompanied by an old man fitting Chancellor Drummel’s description, and a very odiferous young man. They talked about four friends of theirs who were looking for something in the library of Oghma in the Sevencity. The layers of riddles increase! Perhaps I should not have left the letter for the chancellor. Time will punish our mistakes, I am sure.
We are out of that tomb, thank the gods, but not after spending much of our rest time yesterday bickering over what to do next. I am for returning to the Hills estate and telling the tale of Matrim’s death to his family. Others, Gunn in particular, are opposed. But they have come to reason and have dropped their objections for the time being. I fear, though, that Gunn and I have not been told all there is to know about the group’s contract with Lordling Matrim, and the state of affairs when they left the Hills estate.
We emerged from the tomb this morning and ran into a curious wood elf and his canine companion. This elf, Fineon, claimed he was wandering in this swamp of death when he saw us from a distance. He proceeded to follow us, and when we entered the barrow mound, waited for us on the surface. One wonders how much longer he would have waited.
At any rate, he seems like a decent fellow, and any aid in a time such as this is welcome. I have noticed certain tokens on him that indicate he may be a priest as well as a fighter. I would like to talk with him and find out more about him. For the time being he has offered to guide us swiftly out of the swamp and back to the Hills estate.
Nightal 30, the Road to Purseton
A great deal has passed in the last two days! And I know little of what it portends.
A short way from the Hills estate we were intercepted by a group of several horsemen bearing the Hills arms on their tabards. They treated us well and escorted us to the estate itself, a motte and bailey keep above a small town. Again we were treated very well, and left to bathe in private rooms before an audience with Lord Byron himself. The others showed a great deal of trepidation concerning the audience. I still could not convince myself that Lord Byron would wish us ill for the death of his son, as it was wholly beyond our control. At any rate, the bath was very welcome and I finally felt human and decent again after so long in the field.
On our way to the great hall, Kazir and I decided to let Kazir speak, as he and not I had been involved in the original contract. I had some misgiving about letting the Aradeeti speak, as I am better acquainted with the social graces of courtly life in Luc Valu. He was the best among Matrim’s companions, however, and at any rate Kazir conveyed himself well, considering the surprises we were to face.
First, Lord Byron was completely healthy. From what I had heard, he had been suffering a war wound for the last two decades and distrusted all clerical healing. The Lord Byron confronting us, however, was hale and hearty for his age. He began by pronouncing us the “heroes who saved his son Matrim’s life.” We were shocked, though I held my cool. Matrim was dead and buried according to the reports of my comrades. What game was Hills playing? And over the life of his son, no less?
At this point I noticed the chancellor (later revealed to be named Drummel) at Hills’s elbow, an elderly man who only whispered in Lord Byron’s ear as we approached. Drummel was clothed in black robes, and was more ancient than any man I had seen before. Lord Byron went on to thank us for saving his son, examined our contract, took the enchanted sword of his ancestor’s as Lordling Matrim’s share of the treasure, and bought the shield as well. He invited us to a feast that evening, and sent us to collect our booty in the treasury.
Still unsure of what to make of these events, we proceeded to the treasury in the dungeons of the keep. En route, I heard a woman wailing out Matrim’s name, abruptly silenced. Could it have been Lady Bryntala, wife of Lord Byron, wailing? I had heard rumors that the Lady had lived in seclusion in the keep ever since Lord Byron’s brother died in the same battle that wounded Byron. The common explanation for her seclusion was that she and Byron’s brother had been lovers, and she was in mourning. The cry I heard certainly sounded like the wail of a mourner – but the wail of a mother for her son, not of a lover.
We were not able to investigate further, as we were upon the treasury itself. The guard spoke a password – “Morning Dove” in Valusian – and the door opened. They gave us our reward, and we retired to my chamber to discuss the events.
Our discussions led nowhere, however. Last the group had seen, Lordling Matrim was under a cairn of stones in the swamp, quite dead. Also, Lord Byron was crippled. How did the pieces fit? The only new piece of the puzzle was the appearance of Chancellor Drummel. We agreed to attend the feast, and I left to gather more information if possible. My inquiries got me little but a bottle of Gryphon Hills wine and a lewd advance from the elderly mistress of the kitchens, and so I met up with the party before the feast.
The feast itself was quite boring, and there was little opportunity to gather information. Lord Byron and his chancellor left before I had a chance to speak with them. Attempting to get any more information possible, Fineon and I approached Lordling Lenardo, Lord Byron’s eldest son. Fineon was in possession of a flask of Arn brandy, and we guessed that Lenardo would appreciate the expensive drink. He did indeed, though already deep in his cups, and challenged Fineon to a game of blood dice.
As an aside, should this journal ever be read in lands where blood dice is not popular, I shall endeavor to explain the rules of the game. It is quite simple. Two players roll a single die each. Whoever gets the higher result may throw a dagger at the loser. The game continues usually to first blood, sometimes to unconsciousness or death. I’d heard of the game being played in certain taverns along Cymeria’s wharves, but I’d never thought to find it here, in a house of nobility.
Fineon refused to play, angering Lenardo, and I stepped in his stead to cool the Lordling’s blood. Pell was chosen as Lenardo’s second, as it would be a crime to throw a dagger at the Lordling himself. I won the first two tosses, and intentionally missed. Lenardo’s anger grew. On the third toss, Lenardo won, and threw a dagger at me, badly missing. In his anger, he stabbed at me, missing repeatedly in his drunkenness before finally wounding me. Though the wound was grievous, I faked unconsciousness, hoping to end the duel and give some honor to the Lordling. Apparently, my bluff was unsuccessful, and Lenardo ordered Fineon and me thrown into the dungeon. Pell was able to distract the Lordling long enough for Sir Gorful, Hills’s master at arms, to break up the commotion.
Lenardo left for his chambers, backing down in the face of Gorful’s calmness, and Sir Gorful convinced us that we should leave as well, or face Lenardo’s wrath in the morning. Sir Gorful also told us of how the chancellor had arrived only a few days before, bearing a wounded Lordling Matrim. Since that time, Matrim had not been seen, nor had the guards who helped Matrim to his room. The chancellor, apparently a priest of Oghma, healed Lord Byron and was accepted as his trusted advisor.
I wrote a quick letter to the chancellor, telling him of our status but not mentioning Matrim’s death. I included the fact that we would be staying in the Sevencity should he wish to contact us.
We departed the Hills estate in the darkness and headed to Purseton, hoping to gain as much distance before dawn as possible. Several hours out of the estate, we were stopped in the road by hobgoblin brigands, who denied our passage. A fight ensued that we handily won, and we captured two of the bandits. Interrogating them later, we found they had been hired by an old, thin woman in brown and black robes, and paid with old coins. They had been hired to stop us from passing, and had been working for some time guarding the road and attacking other caravans along the way. We let the two go, upon which the leader came back to us under a sign of peace. He said that we did better by him than he would have in our place, and was grateful. He introduced himself as Steel Jack, and let us know that we could count on him for information of this area if we ever needed it. He also let us know that the woman was not alone, that she was in fact accompanied by an old man fitting Chancellor Drummel’s description, and a very odiferous young man. They talked about four friends of theirs who were looking for something in the library of Oghma in the Sevencity. The layers of riddles increase! Perhaps I should not have left the letter for the chancellor. Time will punish our mistakes, I am sure.
