Alden Minor

4th - BOOK OF DAYS
by Thorn Galanodel

1364 DR (the Year of the Wave), Flamerule (Summertide)

Flamerule, First Ride, Day 1 Thinking over the recent incidents in which Rhynn has shown anger toward me for refusing to empower him with spells at his whim…or when I request he seek to curb his descent into the bottle…or when I have asked him to go easy on Raitalis…In those moments I have seen a flicker of the bullying drunkard that Raitalis claims to have seen. I would rather pass it off as the arrogance of youth, but yet I wonder. The path he is on could easily lead him to the lifestyle that Raitalis described. I find it horrifying that one to whom I have entrusted my life could allow himself to become such a monster. Then again, the Rhynn I know may not become the Rhynn that spawned Raitalis. Perhaps the shouting match last night will serve as a warning, wake him up so he can see the dark path he is on. He has so much potential, but first he must find his way back from the false comforts in which he has become lost.

Day 2 We spent this day on a forced march to Fort Wayne. Greeting us at the gate was a shredded deer corpse, drained of blood. This has set an ominous tone over the evening.

Day 3 The keep looks much better by day. Still, our explorations show us it would need a lot of work if we were to occupy it. Worse still, the spark of the Weave that once flowed through it is now gone. After much discussion, we have decided to pursue selling it. As the day is nearly gone, we will stay one more night then return to Alden Minor.

Day 4 We are all tired after a forced march back to Alden Minor. It looks like everyone has things they want to get done around town on their own. We have agreed to take no further contracts until after the Midsummer festival and focus on our own affairs for a while.

Day 5 Too long I have let other events keep me from achieving and discovering in the laboratory. The next few days I shall devote to the pursuit of Creation. I shall see just how well our Miss Cloverleaf serves as a laboratory assistant. I have set my fellow Hammers to the task of fueling my creative fires with ideas. In return, they get marvelous items crafted to their specification. Rather than favor one over another with the order of construction, I have declared that all the items I construct shall be presented in a ceremony after the coming festival.

Day 6 Worked in the lab. Constructed Bracelet of Mage Hand for Kylverin.

Day 7 Worked in the lab. Constructed Bracelet of Open/Close for Kylverin.

Day 8 Worked in the lab. Constructed Amulet of Prestidigitation for Kylverin.

Day 9 Worked in the lab. Began working on Crest of Cure Light Wounds for Kylverin.

Day 10 Worked in the lab. Finished working on Crest of Cure Light Wounds for Kylverin.

Second Ride, Day 1 All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy. All work and no play makes Thorn a very dull boy.

Day 2 Finished working on enhancing Kalendar’s scimitar. While I have been busy in the laboratory with Miss Cloverleaf, the others have been making preparations for the Midsummer festival. Hearing the excitement in their voices makes me long to play a more active part this time around. Yet it has been decades since I sang or danced or even picked up a harp. These hobbies long ago fell by the wayside as I began to dabble in magic and chemistry. Perhaps Kylverin would be willing to help me recover these long-lost talents.

Day 3 Worked in the lab. Practiced with Kylverin. Began working on adding Silent Moves to Rhynn’s enchanted chain mail.

Day 4 Worked in the lab. Practiced. Continued working on adding Silent Moves to Rhynn’s chain mail.

Day 5 Worked in the lab. Practiced. Continued working on adding Silent Moves to Rhynn’s chain mail.

Day 6 Worked in the lab. Practiced. Continued working on adding Silent Moves to Rhynn’s chain mail.

Day 7 Worked in the lab. Practiced. Continued working on adding Silent Moves to Rhynn’s chain mail.

Day 8 Worked in the lab. Practiced. Finished working on adding Silent Moves to Rhynn’s chain mail.

Day 9 Worked in the lab. Practiced. Began working on Smithy Tools for Calmert.

Day 10 Worked in the lab. Practiced. Continued working on Smithy Tools for Calmert. Rhynn apologizes for being a jerk lately.

Third Ride, Day 1 Work in the lab. Continue working on Smithy Tools for Calmert. After tutoring me this evening, Kylverin presented me with a masterfully constructed Lap-Harp. I have not seen such a work of beauty since I last saw the Galanodel Lap-Harp, a family heirloom that has passed through many generations of my family. I would love to call the Galanodel Lap-Harp my own, yet I hope my father has many decades left with which to play it. In the meantime, I have this marvelous creation to play and enjoy. Perhaps it shall become an heirloom as well, for me to pass down to my children. I don’t know where that last thought came from. It is strange to think of myself with children. Living among humans as I do, I cannot foresee me raising children any time soon. For that matter, my lifestyle precludes the time needed for parenting. The time spent studying, traveling, experimenting, creating…these passions consume my every waking moment of late. Of course, my father was so tied up with his diplomatic obligations it was a rare occasion that he could spend much time with me. For that matter, so was my mother. Perhaps this contributed to my rebellious youth. Still, they did the best they could and provided me with luxuries other children could only dream about. I cherished what time they could give me and struggled through the boredom of being babysat by a seemingly endless array of tutors. One part of me thinks there is plenty of time to worry about such matters later…centuries, in fact. My father was nearing three hundred when my mother ended his days of bachelorhood, and it was decades later when they had me. What is time to an elf? Another part of me sees the potential for a violent and sudden end to my long years. That part would see the family name go on. In the alternate timeline where the assassins brought me down, my line ended. I am (was?) an only child, born to aged parent who had no interest in rearing a large family. Perhaps I can make my mark upon this world in other ways.

Day 2 Worked in the lab. Practiced. Finished working on Smithy Tools for Calmert. He should find it easy to craft armor and weaponry now. I cannot wait to see what masterworks he will produce with these fine tolls to guide his hands.

Day 3 Worked in the lab. Having finished the last of my work for the rest of the Hammers, I can at last allow myself to begin my own projects. There is much I wish to do and only a short time left before the festival. I will have to make as much use of my remaining lab time as possible. Today I constructed a minor Pearl of Power. Practiced.

Day 4 Worked in the lab. Practiced. Began enchanting the elven Longsword we found in Thaztilcha.

Day 5 Worked in the lab. Practiced. Finished enchanting the elven Longsword we found in Thaztilcha.

Day 6 Words defy me to even begin to explain what has happened this day. As I hurriedly write this, we are resting the horses briefly so that we may continue chasing after Kylverin. He has disappeared with Raitalis’ staff and Calmert’s horse, along with a few valuables. We travel with one Ashimar of Sune, a priest who somehow got swept up in the chase as we desperately searched for clues. I am not sure what his connection to Kylverin is, but he seems as affected by the loss as we. It is time to resume the pursuit…

Day 7 Though the chase continued through the night, we would seem to be no closer. At least we have reclaimed Calmert’s horse, left behind at a nondescript farm along the way. This gave us no advantage, for we had to leave our own horses at the same farm. As tired as they were and with the type of terrain we were facing, horses would be of no use to us. After talking with Raitalis, we think that the staff has possessed our comrade. Wherever he is going, he is not the Kylverin we knew, but a shell being used to carry out the mission of an intelligent artifact.

Day 8 A full day of looking for the lost trail convinced us we have no choice but to give up the chase…at least for now. I do not give up easily, but we have exhausted all of our resources. Raitalis remains on the hunt, convinced that he can find Kylverin once we leave him to his own devices. I have instructed him never to return if he harms Kylverin in any way. He balked at my words, but eventually gave in. Once again I find myself needing to trust him, though my every instinct cries out in alarm. He would do well to heed my words, for once he crosses me there can be no turning back. Raitalis constantly spins my feelings for him between sympathy and loathing.

Day 9 The bitter taste of defeat greeted us as we arrived home. It has been hard travel for the last few days, and all we have to show for it is the eviction of Raitalis from our basement. We have lost a friend, and were unable to bring him back from whatever dark fate stole him away. I have not felt so helpless since I found myself incapable of bringing down the troll that slew Findle.

Day 10 Worked in the lab. Constructed a Cloak of Elvenkind. Practiced on my own. How strange it was to work without Kylverin’s patient instruction. Especially on the Lap-Harp he constructed specially for me. I could only seem to muster a few sad ballads. I must clear my head of this grief if I am to perform tomorrow. We exhausted all of our current resources in our search for Kylverin. However, I am brimming with future potential. One day I will have the power to bring him back. I must believe this, for the alternative is unthinkable. Can one person make a difference? Once I may have said, “No.” However, time and experience changes much in the way of opinions and views. Looking at my own reflection, my greatest change has been my perception of my peers and mentors. I remember my amusement at the presumption of sages and philosophers as they sought to instruct me in my wilder years. I barely restrained myself (Ilphukiir would say instead that I rarely restrained myself) when they presented such esoteric concepts as, “the ripples in the air caused by the stirring wings of a butterfly on one side of the continent started forces in motion that brought forth a tornado on the other side of the continent.” Yet, when confronted with a divergence of timelines (the knowledge that assassins had brought me down in a timeline that I played a part in changing), I used what they taught me (yes, Ilphukiir, I was listening – there is little you said that I didn’t ponder, I just couldn’t give you the satisfaction of knowing how many of your words and ideas found a home in my own consciousness) to survive and thrive. I readily grasped to theories I once would have laughed away as folly – because down that path was life. It would seem enlightenment comes readily to those who must quickly grasp it or face a sudden and violent end. Grasp it I did: Now I understand. With every action I take, the gap in the timelines grows ever greater. Where there was once a void of inaction (and thus, no reactions), there is now a butterfly stirring its wings and bringing forth great forces. I am the butterfly. I have shrugged my wings and brought disaster and death upon my foes…foes that may yet have lived in the alternate timeline. Their wings beat no more, and void swallows up all the actions that may have come to be because of the strife they would have wrought upon the world. I grow lightheaded at the thought of all I have affected already. How much can I yet do? There is no turning back now. And I do not stand alone. After being confronted with the vicious stench of the putrid being he became (and beget) in the alternate timeline, Rhynn has dedicated himself to being a better man. He strides toward a personal redemption with all the bullheaded stubbornness with which he faces the rest of his life. I have felt the strength of Rhynn’s will when I have called forth the power of the Weave to flow through him. I have seen his will displayed on the battlefield when he refused to fall even though beaten and nearly broken. I am confident that sheer stubbornness will be enough to keep him from being drawn down that path again. So we live with these changes: Our world becomes a much more scary place for it. I have been forced to confront my own mortality, and Rhynn has been forced to confront a sickness within. Yet, at the same time, the world is a better place for these changes.

If only Isti could have been saved as well. I would have loved the opportunity to discuss these thoughts with him… Bah! Enough of this introspective rambling…

Midsummer Festival The festival was well timed. All of us were able to put aside our grieving for a little while and lose ourselves in the joy of the crowd and the pleasures of the celebration. While I have been so busy in the lab these past couple of Rides, Rhynn had been masterminding a marvelous array of spectacles to entertain and amuse the masses. There were many games, performances, and other forms of revelry – in short, a good time to be had by all but the most jaded of souls.

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3rd - BOOK OF DAYS
by Thorn Galanodel

1364 DR (the Year of the Wave), Kythorn (The Time of Flowers)

First Ride, Day 1 This morning we split off from the road, turning southeast to head for Fort Wayne. Despite the broken terrain we made good time arrived shortly after midday. We found the fort in a state of disarray. The once-cleared area Rhynn quaintly called the “kill zone” was overgrown. The portcullis gate was also overgrown, though this seemed less natural, especially in light of the wooden disk sporting the symbol of Chauntea plainly posted amongst the overgrowth. As Kylverin climbed the gate a trio of gargoyles swooped down upon us. It was fascinating seeing these creatures in motion after reading so much about them. It was a wonder to observe these living creatures that shared many traits with constructed beings. They had the appearance and feel of living stone, yet could fly as easily and swiftly as a bird. The breathed and bled like any other creature, though it took a magical weapon to inflict any real harm. Two of them were brought down, but the third escaped unharmed. I was fortunate enough to bring one down with a crossbow bolt blessed by Calmert. From it, I have collected samples to study once I have returned to my laboratory. Perhaps studying a creature with so many construct-like traits will further my knowledge of constructs. After cutting away the overgrowth, we were able to raise the portcullis and bring the horses in to safety. We then conducted a rudimentary exploration of the perimeter of the fort. It is a sturdy structure, but could benefit greatly from a little upkeep and maintenance. We found the main door chained from the outside and sealed with a symbol of Helm – quite obviously an attempt at keeping something inside from getting out. In light of this, we decided to rest and heal our wounds from the battle before exploring further.

First Ride, Day 2 In the early hours before dawn, ghosts and spirits ruled the keep. Calmert received an insistent request from one to leave, but the rest seemed oblivious to our presence. We spent the day searching through the fort. It is a three-story structure that obviously fell into disuse some years ago. One whole story of the structure is a crypt. In our exploration, we found a grave that had been disturbed. We gathered the remains and Calmert performed basic burial rights. Tomorrow he will prepare a right of divine magic to ensure the spirit rests in peace.

First Ride, Day 3 Once again we found ourselves part of a ghostly pre-dawn drama. We met the shade of Lord Wayne and got to witness his ghastly end at the hand of what appeared to be a pack of vampires. Just as the first rays of dawn sputtered through the arrow slits, the spirit show ended abruptly. Before that, though, Lord Wayne spoke with us. He seemed a bit confused and detached, aware of his surroundings but unaware of his place in them. During the course of the question and answer session that ensued, Rhynn presented him with paper and quill, asking him to pen a note granting us free passage through his lands. When the drama had ended, the only sign that anything had happened was the piece of paper Rhynn had given Lord Wayne. On it was penned the deed to the keep. The document appeared legitimate to me but, disturbingly, the ink with which it was written was not fresh. Apparently the Hammers have become titled landowners. We have decided to stay one more night to see whether the spirits have truly been put to rest by our actions. I can only hope that what needed to be done to allow their rest has been completed. It would be my guess that the unfinished business of tending to the land held the lord of the manor to his home. I believe the human expression is, “The lord is the land.” As the people of the land are bound by the will of their lord, the people of the land were likewise bound to the same transitory state between life and death. With his release, perhaps all their spirits can rest peacefully. <sketch>

First Ride, Day 4 Good tidings. There were no signs of restless spirits through the night. I should say, there were no signs of restless spirits outside the Hammers. Rhynn is torn apart by the need to avert the coming war. Even Calmert is fervently praying for peace. They feel there is a remote chance the war might be averted for a time if a portion of the keep were offered to the Tempurians to consecrate a new shrine. Personally, I do not see this making a difference – things seem to be at the point where wounded egos and complicated politics take precedence over fairness and reason. Yet, if there is a chance, I would regret failing to pursue every avenue. We now find ourselves at a crossroads. Do we go back or do we continue on? <sketch>

First Ride, Day 5 We have continued with our mission for the dwarves. The argument for returning to Alden Minor was weak in the face of logic. We all know an amicable solution between the churches of Helm and Tempus is not to be had, for things have escalated to the point neither side is willing to give in until the other admits defeat. There are many amongst both factions that would choose death before dishonor. It was a lousy day for travel but we set out anyway, eager to put this mission behind us and see what has become of Alden Minor. The light of day was fleeting and sparse as the overcast sky relentlessly drizzled a light rain upon us. Looking back on the tragedy of this day, the weather would seem to be a fitting match for my mood. As the weather was unkind to our spirit, so too was our cart unkind to the road south from Fort Wayne toward the Four Tree Bridge. A blind man could have followed the trail we cut into the road. The drudgery of the road made it difficult to guess how long we traveled without incident. As is wont to happen with adventurers, we eventually found trouble – or at least signs of recent trouble. I would say it was about midday when we came across the wreckage of a cart and several recently dismembered humans. They most likely numbered six, but the bodies were such a haphazard collection of missing or mismatching limbs that it was nigh impossible to be sure. What was left of them and their gear gave the impression of mercenaries. Among the scant few possessions left behind in the cart was a journal of one Melody of Candlekeep. All signs pointed to something large, very strong and extremely vicious attacking the small caravan and making off with Melody as a hostage (or worse, though I hesitate to ponder this any further). There was never any question that we would seek out and hunt down the foul creatures that attacked this caravan. We all felt the call of duty, the need to put some right back into a situation that was clearly wrong. Looking at the bodies of the mercenaries, we all knew the danger. Even if we had it all to do over again, knowing the tragedy that lay before us, I don’t think we would have turned away. While I am certain we would have done some things differently, I am equally certain we would have run straight into the gaping maw of doom nonetheless. I digress. My mind races through so many emotions and to so many places as I chronicle these events; it is difficult to stay focused. Kylverin and Tunnel Rat stayed with the horses and cart as the rest of us set out. The same rain that had given us so much trouble worked in our favor as we tracked the beasts. With our limited woodsman skills, it was probably all that made tracking possible. We caught up with the creatures easily, largely because they were greatly slowed by the burden of a heavy chest carried between them. To our horror, we discovered it was a pair of trolls that had assaulted the caravan, and they had indeed taken a woman hostage. We split into two groups and set about flanking the creatures in an ambush. Rhynn and Calmert circled around and prepared to initiate the attack. Findle and I followed behind the creatures, ready to seize any opportunity to get the woman away from harm. Our hastily laid plan fell apart, with tragic results, as one of the trolls suddenly rushed me and nearly did me in with two strokes of its claws. Findle stepped in to help, allowing me the moment I needed to clear my senses and bring a spell to mind. Melody stabbed the creature in the back with a dagger that actually seemed to cause it real harm. Then the troll ripped Findle apart in a shower of blood and gore that will forever haunt me. At this, Melody chose discretion as the better part of valor and ran away. I did likewise, turning invisible and moving to a new ambush spot. Calmert and Rhynn were holding their own against the other troll, though barely. I used a Lesser Acid Orb to strike out at both of the vile creatures. Confronted with an acidic attack and the strange spreading wound of Melody’s dagger, the troll that had just slaughtered Findle chose to run. The other did not have time to run as it fell before the hail of blows set upon it, Calmert and Rhynn striking it harder and faster than it could heal. Without thinking I took off after the fleeing troll. It had nearly killed me already. It had taken more time for it to think about ripping Findle apart to actually do it. And I foolishly ran after it, thinking to bring retribution. I may have succeeded in bringing it the taste of fear, but I cannot imagine I was ever more than a nuisance to it. I blinded it with Glitterdust and pounded it with quarrels from but a few yards away. It flailed around with futile attacks, but my silenced armor and stealthy training gave it no chance to find me as I moved around it and put quarrel after quarrel into its rancid hide. It was all for naught, though. I cannot describe the horror of seeing my most effective hits healed almost as quickly as I inflicted them. By the time my spell ended, I was forced to see I was impotent against this murdering monster. I had no choice but to let it go before it came to the same conclusion. The remains of the mercenaries have been taken care of in a mass pyre. I have collected Findle’s remains and put upon myself the burden of a proper send-off. We have since returned to Fort Wayne. Melody has accompanied us, with our promise to deliver her to the next settlement we cross in our journey. <sketch>

First Ride, Day 6 A funeral pyre in the early morning hours put the body of Findle to rest. I would like to say his memory lives on. This would be no truer than to say his death was avenged. His murderer still stalks the coastline and, sad though it is, there is little memory for us to carry on. We knew him for but a scant handful of days; a mere blink of an eye in the scope of my lifetime. By all reckoning, Findle is gone. Of all of the Hammers, I seem to be the only one who truly mourns for Findle. I understand we each mourn in our own way, but I have traveled with these people long enough to recognize indifference. I question whether Kylverin possesses the ability to mourn. Whether this is some facet of his planar genealogy or the remains of some long-ago pain, I know not. Calmert continues to be a rock in the chaotic storm of warfare. Apparently this includes dealing with the passing of those who must fall to attain victory. Rhynn, of all of us, had the greatest reason not to bond with our new traveling companion. After all, he was thrust upon us as Odarn’s watchdog. I realize my feelings are biased by loneliness for the company of my own kind – and in this sense I have lost a cousin – but these feelings run deeper. The others did not see the butchery so close at hand. The others did not feel their own death rushing at them, only to have another step in and take the blow instead. The others did not have to see their rescuer ripped apart in the space of a single heartbeat. A debt remains, which I have no way of repaying. After I finish this entry I shall write letters to his monastic order and his family. At least they can carry on his memory. If nothing else, they deserve to know how he met his end. It is at times like these I have to remind myself the path we have chosen is fraught with danger. We are warriors. We pick sides and we fight. Maybe we die or maybe we live. The important thing is to truly live while we can.

Transcript of letter sent to monastery and family: The Time of Flowers in the Year of the Wave; First Ride, Sixth Day I am Thorn Galanodel of the Forest of the North. I am a member of the Hammers of Justice, based in Alden Minor. It is with deepest sadness that I write to you about the death of Findle. I regret that I have only known him for a few days, but in that time he demonstrated a warrior’s spirit and was a valued comrade in arms. By our side, he bravely faced gargoyles, ghosts, and trolls. Findle was traveling with my company when we came across the wreckage of a small caravan recently assaulted by trolls. He set out with us to rescue the only survivor and bring justice to the vile creatures. Unfortunately, he did not survive the assault. I can only hope that it brings some consolation to know that he died a hero. I was grievously wounded by one of the trolls and would surely have died myself had he not intervened. Because of his efforts, the hostage was unharmed and I live on. In gratitude for his sacrifice, I have seen to it that Findle has received a proper funeral pyre. I have prayed to Corellan Larethian, and our company priest conducted funeral rights. His ashes were spread on the grounds of Fort Wayne, a place where he had helped us liberate ghosts too long bound to this earth. It is my hope that his spirit can join those he has helped find peace. Respectfully, Thorn Galanodel of the Forest of the North Hammers of Justice, Alden Minor

addendum Since the ‘exorcism’ the keep would seem to be a place of magical power. I do not understand it. It is almost as if the Weave were somehow more concentrated in this area. This begs further study, but later. There is so much to do already. Melody is a relentless flirt. There seems to be nothing behind it but the joy of manipulating men, but I do not think she realizes the danger of arousing men who have been on the road for some time and are far from home. Yet, as I think about it, there does seem to be a method to her manipulations. She is a seeker of knowledge, using her feminine wiles to loosen the tongues of my companions. They are all to ready to speak to her on all but the most confidential matters. With time, she may yet wear down these barriers. Kylverin woos her relentlessly, but in such a way that promises a sordid and short-lived affair. Calmert tries to impress her with boasts of strength and deed (If she stays with us much longer I think he shall severely strain himself from the constant sucking in of his gut!). Rhynn’s lingering stares make it obviously he is mentally peeling off her garments. Even I occasionally find myself succumbing to her guile. Then she asks a question that is just a little too personal and brings me back to alertness. She wishes to travel with us and chronicle our travels. I have mixed emotions about this. There is no doubt she is a dangerous distraction to the company. As things are going, she may lead them to infighting as they vie to be the dominant consort. Further, she is not a warrior, spreading our already belabored resources thinner whenever we must defend her. Yet, she is knowledgeable and well educated, versed in many areas where I am but a quick study. There is no doubt she could contribute to our quest. The question is whether the benefits outweigh the potential for disaster. <sketch>

We have gained another traveling companion. The remains of Findle’s pyre drew the attention of a protector of the forest, a green elf by the name of Kalander. At first he was disturbed that we were treading on ground barred by the church of Chauntea. However, he quickly relaxed when we told him of the liberation of the spirits haunting the keep. Rhynn was rather insistent of our ownership of the keep, pointedly driving in his feeling that Kalander was trespassing on our land. I quickly moved to keep things from getting out of hand, apologizing for our abruptness and telling Kalander he was welcome to join us for a meal and spend the night at the keep. Rhynn has been very edgy since we returned to the keep. Perhaps this is related to his theory of his sorcery being powered by his emotion. Whereas I can sense the power flowing in this area, perhaps all he feels is wild mood swings. Or perhaps Findle’s death stirred up his feelings over losing Teeny. I must conclude it is one of these, else I start to wonder whether he bears some ill will to my green-skinned cousins. As we ate, I told Kalander more about Findle and his tragic end. He graciously offered to help us track the troll that escaped our ill-fated ambush. I readily agreed, though I do not think the others shared my sentiment. Be that as it may, they would not deny me the right of vengeance. Tomorrow the hunt begins. <sketch>

First Ride, Day 7 We spent most of the day tracking the troll, to no avail. Though Kalendar did his best, the trail eventually became too poor to follow. At least I can rest knowing we have done all we can. He has thus proven himself a worthwhile traveling companion, so the group readily accepted his request to travel with us for a time. Rhynn’s emotions still run high – he was all too quick to make it clear Kalendar was not considered a member of the Hammers. Though we all agreed, it did not need to be stated so bluntly. I then made it clear that if he were to share an equal part of whatever danger we faced he could expect an equal share of whatever reward we gained. Later in the day I found consequence for our ‘dragon slaying’ expedition, in the form of Dar Dragonspear, son of Crayton Dragonspear of the Draconic Library in Alden Minor. When we accepted the mission to help the town be rid of the dragon, we had been told messengers had been sent out in every direction to seek help. It seems Dar’s company answered the call as well. He and his men put together a fairly accurate picture of events as they actually occurred. Too accurate; I suspect divination was involved. I is hard to guess what he told the village, but it is unlikely we will find refuge there. Yet we must pass through on the way to Ivory Hold. Gogliestaff should count himself lucky we arrived first. He would be naught more than a stuffed hide or a suit of armor had Dar reached him first. He may yet be in danger if their divinations allow them to track him. I wish I had the power necessary to send him a missive of warning, but alas that is currently beyond my reach. In our brief meeting, I could tell that Dar cares only for the death of all dragons. There is no such thing as a good dragon in his view. This is a vile and repugnant view. I let my emotions get the better or me and we had words. Among them he labeled me a ‘dragon sympathizer,’ seeming to think this was actually a vicious barb. The man is a fool. A powerful and dangerous fool, but a fool nonetheless. Put a cap with bells on his head and he would be at home in the halls of any royal court, spouting his madness to the amusement of all.

First Ride, Day 8 Passing through Oodalstave confirmed my suspicions. I did not have to ask anyone – the ill looks and slamming doors told the tale all too clearly. There was no need to stop, so we turned east and headed for River Cut Pass. We made good time and decided to camp early. We will set off through the pass come the morning when we have better light. We spent the evening seeing to the horses and setting up a hidden shelter. Rhynn placed his Arcane Mark upon all but Calmert’s horse, who was already branded with the symbol of Helm. I must admit I am beginning to find humor in Rhynn’s recent obsession with property. I would have been content to return the horses and cart to the village – they have served us well and we do not need them for the journey ahead. Besides, it may have done something to repair the ill will they now bear us.

First Ride, Day 9 There is little to River Cut Pass that bears mentioning. I encouraged Tunnel Rat to tell us about the various geological formations and listened with rapt attention…as long as I was able. Ye gods, it was like my schooling days all over again. I remember thinking if I leapt into the gorge the lecture might finally end. I assume this is the type of information the Blue Boot clan would be interested in. Therefore, I captured as much as I could in a separate journal that I intend to hand over to them upon our return. Finally, realizing I could take no more thoughts of the intricacies of one bland rock compared to another, I turned the journal over to Tunnel Rat and provided him with ample writing supplies. As twilight approached, we found a campsite carved into the rock. Whatever differences there may be between our peoples, I will say this for the dwarves: They are good planners for practical matters. Resting in this ancient campsite was far better than setting up our own encampment on the edge of a drop-off into a gorge. As we began our rest, we were treated to a spectacular show of bats emerging from a nearby cave to begin their evening’s feast. This is fortunate – we should have little trouble with insects this night. As I write this, though, I find my thoughts wandering back to our home in Alden Minor. I wonder how Margaret and Daemon are doing. Is Raitalis holding true to his word and watching over their safety? Is Rhynn’s family safe? Are Calmert’s brothers in arms even now sacking the city? <sketch>

First Ride, Day 10 We have made it through River Cut Pass to the entrance(s) to the Mines of Ivory Hold. Our only real obstacle was a section of river with a washed out bridge, but this was easily traversed thanks to some ingenious rope work on the part of Rhynn. My only regret is that he did not leave the ropes in place in case we need to beat a hasty retreat. <sketch>

Second Ride, Day 1 Rest at last! We have been quite busy since my last entry. A reconaissance of the three mountain entrances revealed much of interest.

1.The first entrance

Wooden barriers of some strange, puzzle-like construction cleverly kept Rust Monsters confined within this cavern. Of course, our discovery of these creatures led to an initial panic as Calmert’s sacred axe was destroyed by the beasts. However, I quickly rallied the group to face them. Rhynn stripped out of the largest portion of his largest metal gear and took up Findle’s quarterstaff while the rest of us took up positions to support him with cover fire and spells. The creatures poured forth in a terrifying wave, but our initial onslaught of physical and magical might broke any semblance of order in their ranks. We set into them with a fury. Just as the first drops of our enemies’ blood began to soak into the ground, though, Tunnel Rat started calling a retreat and dragging people out of their position. It is one thing to be a coward, but quite another to jeopardize someone else’s life for the sake of cowardice. His actions were unconscionable and nearly cost Rhynn his life. By my reasoning, when I proposed the plan I took responsibility for those following it – particularly for Rhynn, both because he is (in a way) my student and – out of trust – he placed himself in the position of greatest jeopardy. He trusted us with his life. That is not a responsibility I take lightly. Apparently Tunnel Rat does not feel the same. When placed in the light of our actions to save him from the mud pit (in Entrance #3), this is all the more sad. When our own ranks broke, the tactics I had hastily devised began to fail. Rhynn was cut off from the rest of us, lost in a swarm of the beasts. I focused all the energy I could on magically empowering him, hoping this would give him the edge necessary to survive. By the time we got to him, I could swear he was standing by nothing more than force of will. Even as Calmert began chanting his healing prayers, Rhynn began staggering off, insisting he was all right. By the gods, I don’t know how he did it. Yet it strange way it sort of makes sense, considering he spent most of his life living in Teeny’s shadow. All that time ignoring his own limitations, doing whatever it took to keep up with someone stronger and more resilient by virtue of birth…determined to keep up with his powerhouse of a friend at whatever cost to himself. In that light, it is no wonder he was able to push himself so hard even when at death’s door. As I recall, the antennae of the fallen creatures are essential in the construction of rust orbs. Sadly, I was unable to rely on metal to cleanly sever the antennae, so I was forced to find a sharp rock and gather them the hard way. Now I have but to prepare them for later use. I will do this after dinner, for I doubt my companions would find much enjoyment in their meal with the lingering smell of the chemicals I must use.

2.The second entrance

As voices were heard when we approached this mixture of natural and carved cave, I volunteered to scout ahead. I deeply regretted my boldness when I found a blue dragon giving orders to some diminutive, reptilian creatures. I believe they were kobolds. One way or another, they did not seem entirely pleased that the dragon was demanding “more children.” I must wonder whether this was a demand for sacrifice or procreation! One way or another, the group agreed this cave had been sufficiently explored to fulfill our contract.

3.The third entrance

A narrow, natural formation, this tiny cave led to a slope which ended in a mud pit. Tunnel Rat slid in. We tossed him a rope but the mud sucked him down with such force that he could not hold on. I empowered Kylverin to fly and he went to the rescue. I must admit, when Kylverin disappeared as well I became quite worried. Still, I know that he has many tricks of his own and trusted in his ability. Patience was rewarded when he later came back with Tunnel Rat and a sample of some strange metal. Apparently, there is a tunnel in one side of the mud pit that leads to another cavern. Within this cavern was the mineral deposit. Kylverin took advantage of the fly spell long enough to do an aerial reconnaissance, during which he discovered a fourth cave entrance.

4.The fourth entrance

This day ends with our group hiking around the mountain toward the entrance discovered by Kylverin. Judging by his description of the emblem upon the massive doors and the statues flanking them, I believe it may be some sort of shrine or temple dedicated to Shar, a human goddess of evil and darkness. There was some initial trepidation at this discovery, but the group eventually agreed that we should at least see whether it is occupied. Judging by our progress over the difficult terrain so far, it will take us at least three days to get there. It is tempting to use flying magic to aid our travel, but I do not see where it would benefit us in the long run. Firstly, we need the reconaissance that can be gained only by traveling the terrain. Secondly, it would be unwise to be flitting about with a dragon so near. There is also the fact that it would be unwise to split up the group in unknown and hostile territory. Still, it is nice to know that there is such an option should the terrain become too dangerous to pass. <sketch>

It would seem my thoughts about a land-based reconnaissance have been justified. After another hard day of trekking around the mountain, we have discovered a cave that leads to a massive vertical shaft. I have empowered Rhynn to fly so he can explore while the rest of us set up camp.

Kythorn, Second Ride, Day 3 Rhynn spent entirely too long scouting the tunnels last night. The information he gathered was invaluable, but it was foolhardy to spend so much time flitting about the tunnels with a dragon about. At least he made it back safely. However, it was not good for the morale of the group to sit around the camp wondering whether Rhynn had managed to make himself into a draconic equivalent of a late-night snack. This was not the only disturbance during the night. In the early morning hours just a few hours before dawn, Calmert arose and wandered down the mineshaft. Kylverin and Kalendar, who were on watch at the time, thought he was merely shuffling off to relieve himself. If only this were the case. Sleepwalking though another of his waking dreams, Calmert walked all the way to the vertical section of the shaft and fell in. By simple dumb luck or divine intervention he fell into another horizontal cross-shaft. The camp was in an uproar for a good while as a rescue effort was mounted. The group lowered me down to him, where I empowered him with a Spider Climb spell and gave him a Light created by Kylverin. I returned to camp and assured everyone he was all right and would be joining us in a little while. Meanwhile, he climbed further down the shaft to reclaim a boot that went missing in the fall. While down there, he decided to do some exploring of his own. All of the tensions of the night left everyone on edge as we continued our arduous trek around the mountain. Finally the terrain became too difficult to safely pass. Our original estimate of three days no longer feasible, we stopped and spent a good deal of time working out a plan by which we can fly around to the other side. Tomorrow I will empower Rhynn and Calmert with Bull’s Strength and Fly, and they will use a complicated system of netted ropes to carry the rest of us there.

Day 4 Even with our preparations, it was a difficult journey. However, the ability to move in three dimensions rather than two proved the only way to make our chosen route passable. With near an hour of uninterrupted (and unsteady) flight behind us, we arrived at an area of more hospitable terrain where we could make the rest of the trek on foot. By nightfall, we had arrived at the temple entrance. As we were readily able to shelter most of the light and were sorely in need of a morale boost, we decided to treat ourselves to a warm camp. While the others set up camp, Calmert, Tunnel Rat and I investigated the chamber, statues, and doors. I detected an aura of magic about the doors. Calmert said they resonated an aura of evil. There is a gut feeling that one develops when one works with traps – both Tunnel Rat and I had this feeling, though neither of us could pinpoint exactly what kind of trap. I believe this to mean the door is trapped by divine, unholy magic. This would fit with the symbol so boldly and proudly emblazoned upon the door. There are no visible locks or hinges on the doors, but they appear to open by being pushed inward. I fear for the person who boldly strides up to the doors and attempts to open one! Armed with this knowledge, Kylverin quickly hit upon a possible solution. A simple Open cantrip would allow him to open the doors from a distance. Hopefully this will allow us bypass the trap or discharge it safely. We will find out in the morning. <sketch>

Day 5 Kylverin’s plan for bypassing the door trap was sheer genius. I wish I could say the same for my plans. I committed a tactical slip in splitting the group in unknown territory. I too quickly assumed an area was safe after our initial investigations. While separated from the main group, Kylverin and Calmert were set upon by some kind of aquatic-humanoid aberrations. Thought both were grievously wounded, fortunately no one was lost. However, add to this a grumbling amongst the group ever since it was discovered that we have merely circled around to an area that connects to the shaft Calmert fell into a few nights ago… Morale is running mighty low right now. I sulk in introspection because my decisions have not lately been able to deliver the most fortuitous results. When not demanding magical empowerment from me, Rhynn is stirring up trouble with Calmert, who is all too ready to settle things with his fists. Kylverin seems oblivious to the needs of those around him. It seems like it has been days since I have even heard Kalendar speak. Tunnel Rat is still stung from my chastisement over the incident with the Rust Monsters. Only Melody, in her role as observer, seems unaffected by the divide that has sprung up amongst us. It our sense of unity as a group could be viewed as a fire, it is now merely smoking embers. We need to lay down kindling and find some spark so that the fire may rage anew. <sketch>

Day 6 We were hardly into the second watch last night when Calmert awoke from yet another of his divine dreams. This time he dreamed of tentacles rising from the waters of the pool inside the temple to burst through our heads and transform us into aquatic aberrations. He was frantic in his insistence that we leave immediately. There was no placating him – we had to move on. We have been on the move for many hours since, pursuing what was then a distant noise of metal striking stone. This, at least, has been an auspicious turn of events. The noise has led us into an area of titanic columns that bear striking resemblance to those we have seen in that of their brother clan, the Blue Boot. It would seem we have finally come to the dwarven hall that was once Ivory Hold. Eventually our weary journey brought us to the source of the noise – a strange kind of mining device, in the form of a massive pick suspended from the ceiling that perpetually swung back and forth to strike a wall and splinter off rubble. Everyone is tired to the point of exhaustion. Only a short ways past this strange device, we have given in to the needs of the body and struck up camp. <sketch>

Day 7 Our mission was long and demanding, but has met with staggering success! Contact has been made with the Ivory Hold clan – or at least, what remains of the Ivory Hold clan. Their numbers are decimated by a decades-long siege and all of their men have been killed off in the ensuing struggles. Their enemies are two-fold. First, and most dangerous, are the aquatic aberrations and their mysterious creators. Second, very dangerous but not so devastatingly effective, is a Behir (not a blue dragon after all!) and its Shocker Lizard minions. When we return to Alden Minor, Ivory Hold wishes to send with us a trio of emissaries to speak to Blue Boot on their behalf. This is far better than the maps and mineral samples our contract required. I would not be surprised if there is some sort of bonus included in our final payment. Whatever the payment, it was hard earned. It took a staggering group effort to make our way past a series of mechanical traps that loosed quintets of four-headed snakelike creatures. Even then, we would have been stopped if not for Kylverin’s diplomacy and skilled use of Undercommon. This allowed us to pass their guardian, a strange elemental creature that left a trail of acid in its wake. Thanks to cover of Invisibility, I was able to collect a sample of this acid for later alchemical exploration. <sketch>

Day 8 Ivory Hold makes preparations to for their emissaries while treating us to the finest food and drink they have left to offer. Their hospitality is gracious and well received by our weary group. Morale is up and it is my duty to use this opportunity to unite them. To this end, I have put forward a plan to take out the Behir and its lot. At first it was met with mixed reactions, but it was an idea that quickly grew as machismo became involved.

Day 9 While Ivory Hold continues to prepare their emissaries, I find myself growing restless. For days, I have been planning how the group might best face a blue dragon. I estimated a rather small chance of success with a high likelihood of several casualties. However, these same plans applied to a lesser creature change this to almost guaranteed success with only a small likelihood of casualties. I shall present these plans to the group. Perhaps this is the tinder and the spark I have been seeking to relight the fire of unity. <sketches>

Day 10 Justice comes to Ivory Hold. Machismo quickly overcame the initial doubts as I presented my plan for removing the Behir and its minions. Today we finalize our preparations; tomorrow morning we mount the attack!

Third Ride, Day 1 Victory! Days of planning beget hours of preparation, which led to a mere minute of struggle. It was not a route. It was not decisive win. It was an outright slaughter. The Shocker Lizards merely served to whet our destructive appetites. The Behir put up a mighty struggle for the span of a few heartbeats before becoming nothing more than a mutilated corpse. Finally, the group had the opportunity to work together as a well-oiled machine. Finally, we all had the opportunity to appreciate the skills and abilities we all bring to the group as a whole. Spirits were especially high when we found the Behir’s hoard! Our whooping and cheering must have rocked the mountaintop. I have spent most of this afternoon salvaging everything I can of the creature’s body, as well as the antennae of its minions. The Behir head shall make an impressive trophy. The rest will be put to use in my laboratory. In retrospect, perhaps I glaze too easily over a point of discontent that arose in the heat and aftermath of the battle. Rhynn was quite angered that I placed Haste magic upon Calmert and Kalendar rather than himself. Yet it was already agreed that Calmert would bestow his Blessed Berzerk upon one of our warriors while I would Haste the others. After the battle, he threatened some of the group and only by summoning monsters mount ineffectively attacks toward him was I able to keep him letting loose his Berzerk rage upon the party. When all was over none could argue the wisdom of my decision no to Haste the chosen Berzerker. Since I have been mentoring him on the discipline needed to harness his magical talent, Rhynn seems to expect me to be his personal source of magical empowerment. I do not find this attitude acceptable. My power is not a bottle to be grabbed at whim and quaffed at will.

Day 2 We leave for Alden Minor tomorrow. That gives me time to work on identifying some of the unique items we discovered in the Behir’s hoard. After all the trials and tribulations of late, I am almost looking forward to the monotony of losing myself in chanting and meditation upon the Weave.

Day 3 Though the mountain pass is no less difficult to travel than before, our high spirits ease the journey.

Day 4 The pleasant mood that has carried us through the past few days was abruptly shattered this evening. Clad in black plate mail and riding a mighty warhorse, a stranger bearing the crest of Dark Hold delivered an unexpected boon and a cryptic message under mysterious circumstances. By reputation, Dark Hold is a bastion of evil and blight upon the face of the land. Its denizens are said to worship dark gods and pillage the surrounding realm. Why would one of its champions freely offer up a bag of gems? What could he have meant when he said it was to settle a “blood debt?” The camp is astir with wild speculation. At least the horses and cart were unmolested in our absence. This will make the rest of our return expedition a little quicker and easier. Perhaps we can find our answers in Alden Minor…if the city yet stands. I hope that we do not return home to find our fair city a broken ruin, destroyed by the pride and political aspirations of men.

Day 5 We stopped in Oodalstave today and unloaded the mound of copper pieces we found in the Behir’s lair. Part of it went to make restitution for the cart and horses, part to re-supply for the last leg of our journey. In an interesting twist of events, we found that the dragon hunters did not share their information about us liberating Gogliestaff. Apparently the hostility we experienced on our last trip through here was simply the way this little Hamlet treats outsiders.

Day 6 We are but a day out from Alden Minor. Anticipation is taking its toll, on Rhynn and Calmert especially, as we wonder what lies ahead. How fares the war? More importantly, how fare those caught within its grasp? It is my greatest fear that there will be some turn of events that forces some of us to choose a side. Only our neutrality has so far kept us together. Despite the nerves and tension, however, we must find a way to relax. The road tomorrow will be harder still if we find ourselves still tired from the evening before.

Day 7 Fortunately, the war has progressed little past the initial siege. With our connections in both camps and declaration of neutrality, we were permitted to breach the barricades. I now find myself in the middle of so many matters that I have scarce time to document them. I shall write more of current events as I find time.

Day 8 By the gods, these last two days have been a blur. I cannot wait until I have time to bring my chronicles up to date.

Day 9 So much has happened in these last three days that I scarce know where to begin. I guess the war would be a good place to start. It is over. The siege has ended and even now the gathered armies are rapidly dispersing. It would seem clan Blue Boot called a meeting of the council and reversed their initial vote shortly after speaking with the emissaries of Ivory Hold. The Helmites have been ordered to surrender the consecrated alter and holy relics to the followers of Tempus, who have been sanctioned to build a church of their own within the town. With the thanks of some investigation by Kylverin and divinations by Dali of Lathander, the mystery revolving around the gems has been traced back to a founding member of our group…Teeny. It was not “blood money” after all, but soul money. He traded his soul in the afterlife for a boon upon his friends. Words cannot express my disgust that a friend would have entered into a compact with demons. Still, it would seem he had little choice. Apparently he was to be judged by the human god Kelemvor, Lord of the Dead, as one of the Faithless. His fate would have been an eternity of torment. As it is, I fear his bargaining did not place him in any more favorable a position. The enigma surrounding Raitalis has been partially revealed. As was previously learned, he is from a future that may never happen. His harsh demeanor and jaded outlook on life is apparently the birthright left by his terrible, drunken sot of a father…Rhynn. In the alternate timeline, Rhynn’s beloved was slain by the assassins. Already seeking comfort in the bottle after the loss of his friend, Teeny, he fell so far into the bottle he never made his way back. Along the way he took another of the barmaids as his bride and had a son. He bullied the child until it became the twisted soul that is now Raitalis. How can I break this to Rhynn? This knowledge weighs heavily on my shoulders, but I find that I cannot in good conscience Raitalis defers to Melody, who in his timeline was royalty. It would seem she has a bright future if her relation with the Hammers has not already altered the course of her destiny. Peris of Candlekeep has returned with a boon for our loan of the books and a commission personally directed at me. He wishes The Hammers officially have a new member. Kalendar has selflessly fought by our side, sharing our wounds and rewards, contributing to our strength as a whole. I proposed offering him membership and the rest of the Hammers agreed. The offer was graciously accepted. <sketch>

Day 10 Raitalis and Rhynn are having it out even as I put quill to paper. I stayed long enough to ensure that sharp objects and obvious weaponry were removed from the room. Such scenes are a source of great discomfort to me, but I stayed as long as I did out of a sense of obligation to a friend. I wonder if I could have done more. Yet, I have done my duty. Whatever happens from here is…a family matter.

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1st - BOOK OF DAYS
by Thorn Galanodel

BOOK OF DAYS, by Thorn Galanodel

1364 DR (the Year of the Wave), Tarsakh (The Claw of the Storms)

First Ride, day 4 Ah, the first entry in a fresh journal. Pen and ink skillfully applied to yielding virgin vellum. It is always a pleasure to begin a new book. I must thank my benefactors for being so kind as to provide a clean slate upon which to capture events for posterity. This chronicle is to mark the humble beginnings of what promises to be a heroic band of epic proportions. Of course, that is easy to say when you are one of the members of said band. We do not yet have a name. I think of names, but none seem to fit. Blooded Band. Restless Knights. Lost Souls. None fit as of yet. There has yet to be that special, defining moment in which a name evolves. For the moment, we are but a collection of talented individuals with great potential. And I foresee our efforts as a group being far greater than the sum of the parts. Our fearless leader, Kylverin, is a human bard from a noble line. There is something about him that commands attention, some quality almost otherworldly. Perhaps it is just good breeding, but he seems a natural leader. Our front-line warrior, Teeny, is a humanoid of some sort. He calls himself a Mule. Surely I can believe some mighty sorcerer combined mule and man to create this brute. Massive and hairless, he presents an intimidating figure. Combining brain with brawn, Rhynn Dohn is also a warrior. He served for years as a bouncer in a particularly rowdy tavern, “Bucky’s Lost Sword.” There is no doubt he has seen his share of the rough and tumble life. Our wizard, Thorn, is a bastion of humility. He is too shy to mention his supreme intellectual abilities. He is too modest to mention his mastery of skills as a scout and artist. Well, maybe he is not so unassuming after all… Though we are currently a group of four, it is my understanding that our benefactors shall be sending us a potential fifth member. Rumor has it this person shall be a member of the clergy.

First Ride, day 5 Today we have accepted our first job. We shall convey merchandise through dangerous territory, perhaps never to return, or perhaps to return with heavier purses. Only time will tell. <sketches> Dramatics aside, we are to deliver a heavy chest to a person who has purchased to contents, carting it through potentially dangerous territory.

First Ride, day 6 We have successfully delivered the merchandise. It was a quiet journey save an attack by a trio of stirges in the middle of the night. Even caught by surprise we dispatched them with ease, so quickly that Kylverin was not even roused from his sleep. Two of the abominable creatures began to feast on Teeny, but with Rhynn Dohn’s help he took them down. I cut down the last one with my dagger even as it latched on to my arm. These creatures have a fascinating ability to drain a large quantity of blood in mere seconds. I was lucky to have exterminated the beast attacking me in such timely fashion. I feel a little woozy now and then, but seem otherwise unaffected. Teeny was not so lucky and seems quite worse for wear.

First Ride, day 7 Our group heads back to town with a few extra coins jingling in our pockets. The success of our first mission, however humble, has us all in good spirits. Though Teeny has yet to completely recover from the Stirge attack, he can hardly talk about anything but the first ale he will buy with his adventuring money! Moments like these are what make the life of adventure worthwhile: The knowledge of a job well done; the satisfaction of brushing evil creatures aside; anticipation of the first purchase to be made with newfound wealth.

First Ride, day 8 We have returned to Alden Minor and collected the rest of our reward from our employer. My companions have already begun their celebration at Bucky’s tavern. I doubt our coin will survive far past this night, but we have earned it. Come the morrow, we assemble before our benefactors and meet the proposed fifth member of our stalwart band.

First Ride, day 9 This day carried with it woeful tidings. Our meeting with the Blades of Grace brought news that our potential fifth member, a human ranger by the name of Davin Farsight, had turned coat at the last, joining a rival band sponsored by the Warlords of the Bloody Axe. Apparently he has even become the leader of this group (which has taken on the name of their benefactors). In case this rivalry leads to future problems, I have begun inquiries to investigate their membership.

The new Warlords of the Bloody Rose Davin Farsight, human ranger, known to be a military strategist, natural leader, and visionary. Lodi Battlecry of Clan Blueboot, dwarven warrior, twin of Raus, a real barbaric powerhouse, wild and resilient. Raus Battlecry of Clan Blueboot, dwarven warrior and priest, twin of Lodi, controlled and pious. Cadiance of the Red Knight, priestess. Shade, half-elven sorceress.

Our group has at last taken a name, one that honors the influence of The Blades of Grace, our patrons. We shall henceforth be called The Hammers of Justice, a worthy suggestion by Rhynn Dohn. <sketch> This day also carried pressure from our benefactors. They are hosting a ball during the Greengrass festival. During this ball, we are to regale their guests with tales of our wild adventures. Somehow, I doubt we can play up the delivery of a chest sufficiently to entertain a crowd of nobles who have led their city through war and strife. Despite this, I look forward to the ball. It should be a wonderful opportunity to find out more about this town. A new mission is in order, one that can load us with wondrous tales and have us back in town quickly. To this end, we have investigated several leads. The temple of Chauntea had advertised a request for help reclaiming a druidic grove, but a group called the Shadows had already accepted this contract. Clan Blueboot offered a reward to exploration of a mine, but the journey alone would cause us to miss the festival. The wizard Ozwinbourne wishes to recover items from a human section of the Ruins of Thaztilcha. So now we find ourselves in the service of Ozwinbourne, accompanying him to explore a derelict Temple of Oghma. The deal we struck was far less than satisfactory to my taste. The best we could haggle from the greedy old man was that he kept 75% of all we found and had the option to buy us out of any items we claim. Still, it is far better than his initial offer and the only mission available that could possibly have us back in time for the Greengrass Ball. An additional revelation – Ozwinbourne seems convinced that Kylverin is not human. Kylverin made no attempt to deny this claim, though he neither seemed interested in further discussion of the matter. Something else keeps nagging at me. Thaztilcha rings a bell somehow. I am sure if I had some time I could remember, but the disappointments and pressures of this day have perplexed me. I hate to go into a situation where I do not know what to expect. I am sure Ozwinbourne knows more than he is willing to tell, though I am unsure as whether he is holding out on us or simply keeping his cards hidden. Once again adventure beckons and only time will tell our fate.

First Ride, day 10 Thaztilcha – an ancient elven city, brought down after they opened their doors to other races. I would have thought that knowing more about where I go would bring me some comfort. I was wrong. This evening finds our group staying in a barn. A friendly farmer was willing a trade a warm meal and shelter for a little labor. Teeny performed in an hour what may have been a day’s work for the man AND his family.

Second Ride, day 1 Another day of travel, highlighted by a chorus of tavern songs. Ozwinbourne’s repertoire of these songs is like unto that of a bard, though the same cannot be said of his talent.

Second Ride, day 2 We have been joined this day by a creature that is strange in deed and action. I would seem to be a badger, by appearance, but either tame and trained, or somehow intelligent. This beast has befriended Teeny, who inadvertently sheltered it from being food for a wild bear. An array of magical missiles from Ozwinbourne sent the bear running, and the badger apparently decided to stay.

Second Ride, day 3 The terrain is subtly changing as we travel. Rolling hills are slowly replacing the flatlands.

Second Ride, day 4 Ozwinbourne has keen eyes, especially for an aging human. We may have inadvertently crossed paths with a two-headed giant – an Ettin, I suspect – had he not spotted it before we were too close. The creature seemed to be constructing a shelter or fort of some kind. I have heard Ettin to brutal, mindless creatures bent on evil and destruction. Though I was curious, there was no reason to test the validity of that particular rumor.

Second Ride, day 5 We have arrived at the ruins and made our way to the section that once was inhabited by humans. This has been a day of strange portents and visions. Rhynn Dohn was the first, seeing the city first as it was when it was in its prime, flourishing and full of life, then as it was during the humanoid attacks that brought it down. Recognizing the terrain where he saw a mighty warrior brought down, he dug up the skeleton and recovered a blade that is likely enchanted. Kylverin succumbed to a similar vision and began digging. Soon he found himself with a rapier that also is likely enchanted. This, however, is quite puzzling to me. How would a rapier, a style of weapon created within my lifetime, appear in a city so ancient? Thaztilcha fell before my grandfather was born, if memory serves me correctly. Most likely some other band fell prey to whatever inhabits these ruins. One of them happened to be carrying an enchanted rapier. Still, my instincts call out that something is wrong. Perhaps my mind has simply had too much time to itself while we have been mindlessly excavating the centuries of dirt accumulated in the ruins of the temple. The sooner find the items and retreat from this mysterious place, the better.

Second Ride, day 6 After we spent a good deal of the day excavating, I found the door to the catacombs below. After I was certain it was not trapped, I allowed Teeny the honor of opening it. A fortunate move, for the mob of skeletons that poured out would surely have overwhelmed me. As it was, I fared little better. I foolishly grabbed up a prying tool to use as a club and attempted to assist Teeny and block the creatures from getting to Kylverin and Ozwinbourne. It turned out that Teeny needed no help from me, and Kylverin and Ozwinbourne only bickered with each other rather than using the opportunity to provide assistance. For my trouble I received a nasty head wound from a rusty blade and a snide insult from Teeny. Were it not for a handily delivered healing potion from Ozwinbourne, I am sure I would not be writing in this very journal. It is clear that The Hammers of Justice have much to learn about teamwork. I should write this off as growing pains and lessons learned, but I cannot help but wonder whether joining this band was a mistake. One way or another, I must rely on them until we leave these ruins. Perhaps in that time they can redeem my trust in them.

Second Ride, Day 7 My previous entry was written as I lay recovering from my near-deathbed. Poor teamwork and bad judgment on my part nearly led to my early demise. I was left pondering the validity of the Hammers as a group. Fortunately, we finally experienced a crowning moment in which each of us had the opportunity to shine both as individuals AND as a team. As we further explored the defiled temple, more undead inhabitants rose against us. All the teamwork missing in the previous skirmish finally surfaced. Teeny and Rhynn Dohn worked to hold back the horde as the rest of us found cover and began peppering them with missiles and spells. While we did not escape unscathed, our actions to help each other resulted in a formidable route of the enemy…and perhaps a growing bond amongst our group. Perchance there is hope for this group after all. If we can continue to perform in a way that is mutually beneficial and allows each of us to contribute our own strengths, we can only prosper. This morning finds our band heading out and away from the ruins. We travel back to Alden Minor, the object of our respective quests in hand. Ozwinbourne has his book (Quite a prize it is! Out of professional courtesy, I shall not name its powers in this unguarded journal.). We Hammers have a tale of honor and glory…and a little swag to boot. Just as we were about to leave, the elven guardians of Thaztilcha greeted us. It was a surprise to meet them on the way out rather than on the way in, but I am sure they have their hands full covering so much ground with what is sure to be limited resources. They were quite concerned that artifacts that came from the city should stay with the city. Fortunately, after a brief conversation in which we explained our mission concerned only the ruin of a defiled human temple, they granted permission for us to pass. < Sketch of temple layout >

Second Ride, Day 8 Pouring over the books recovered from the temple has brought Oz (he insists I call him Oz) and myself closer. It seems we are now working together as peers. I believe we have found the cause of the corruption of the temples’ dead. Several of the books we discovered were devoted to raising and strengthening the dead as animated servants and guardians. These were vile and twisted tomes that displayed some of the worst aspects of necromancy.

Second Ride, Day 9 The road is hard but our spirits lighter as we head back to town. Though our hearts call for adventure, it seems our bodies call for well-earned rest. I find myself looking forward to a long, relaxing soak in a freshly drawn, steaming bath. Add to that fresh, clean clothes unstained by road and blood, and the company of a good lady, and you have the formulae for happiness. I find my spirit further uplifted by Kylverin’s music. He surprised me this evening by singing an old elven ballad I have not heard for decades. I am sure my reverie this night will be filled with childhood memories of sitting on my mother’s knee as she sang me the very same song. It is strange how even the sweetest of memories must also carry a burden, a toll to be exacted as the price of remembrance. As happy as I felt a moment ago, now I am just as sad. I miss my mother and father dearly. Would that Evermeet had waited a little longer before calling them home.

Second Ride, Day 10 Rhynn Dohn took a fall today. As we were crossing a ravine, the ground gave way beneath him and me. I was close enough to the edge to scramble to safety, but he was not so lucky. He fell and twisted his ankle. Stoic in his pain, he claims he is all right and denies offers of help. He would not allow the group to slow on his account. However, as we traveled on I could not help but notice the limp. Add to this the wounds he received from the defiled priests, which are only just beginning to heal. As we arrived in camp, I removed my boots to massage away some of the pains of this day’s march. Rhynn avoided doing such, possibly for fear that a boot would be unable to be returned to its rightful foot. Teeny also suffered from the skirmish with the priests, taking a nasty blow to the head. From time to time he seems disoriented and dizzy, but he quickly snaps out of it. He and his newfound animal companion chatter away at each other…though I am unsure as to whether this last item should be considered unusual behavior. Rhynn and Teeny are both warriors, and as such project themselves as tough as nails. Despite this, I can see their eagerness to rest whenever the party halts. I worry for them both; though there is little else for me to do, as I am neither healer nor divine spell caster. For their sake, I hope our trip home goes smoothly. < Sketches of the undead priests shambling through darkened hallways >

Third Ride, Day 1 Perhaps Rhynn and Teeny are as tough as the image they try so hard to project. Despite their aches and pains, they keep up their usual banter. While it would be untrue to say there is no complaining, their banter has taken on new proportions. It almost seems to have been elevated to a rivalry – whoever calls for rest first loses the battle of wills. Kylverin seems to have sensed this, and calls for rest with increasing frequency. The excuses are amusing if only for their inanely shallow veneer. Surely he does not expect us to believe so many pebbles could become stuck in his boots. < Sketches of Hammers of Justice coat of arms >

Third Ride, Day 2 Today we came across something that struck fear into our hearts. It is not unusual to find a mauled animal in the wilderness. However, when that animal is a bear… I cannot help but wonder if this is the very same bear we encountered on the way out to Thaztilcha. My curiosity, however, was not strong enough to keep me in the area long enough to investigate. < Sketch of Teeny and badger leaping into bushes as a huge bear looms over Oz >

Third Ride, Day 3 Excitement builds as we draw nearer to Alden Minor. Around the campfire tonight we discussed our adventure and how we would present it at the upcoming ball. As the conversation turned to other matters, Rhynn shared a vision he experienced before he discovered the long sword in the ruins. He later presented the sword to me. It is truly a masterpiece. Though I have determined it is not enchanted, it is certainly of sufficient quality to sustain an enchantment. < Sketch of the sword >

Vision: The sun hangs high in the sky, blazing down upon a city teeming with life. It is a metropolis teeming with activity, if only everyday doings and typical day-to-day routines. A dark cloud rolls in from the north across the city. Darkness comes quickly to the city, cutting off the comforting warmth. The cloud descends upon the city, and it is quickly realized this is not truly a cloud but a vast swarm of locust and grasshoppers. People begin to flee in all directions, seeking escape from the sudden onslaught of pestilence. But escape is quickly cut off as endless multitudes of ants come up out of the sewers and attack the people. Striding through the heart of the city, casually directing the movements of this swarm is a humanoid form, composed entirely of bugs. It casually directs the hordes in their vicious, unrelenting assault. People fall before the wrath of the insects, and slowly everything is destroyed. Nothing is left but the bones of the fallen. In time, even the buildings begin to wear away. Rhynn said he awoke from this vision to find himself staring at a large grasshopper flying toward him. It quickly buzzed past his shoulder.

Third Ride, Day 4 So tired…weariness casts a haze upon me. I find my thoughts slipping away even as my quill touches the page.

Third Ride, Day 5 Rest at last, I thought as we entered the city. Hah! These last two days have been a blur. The rigor of working with Oz to identify our recovered items has taken its toll. Oz has been most generous; so happy he recovered his book that he allowed us far more than the split previously agreed upon. Fortunately, I have found time in between for the bath, the fresh clothes, and the company previously mentioned. I am weary, but all is good. We have returned with time to prepare for the ball.

Third Ride, Day 6 Today the Hammers shall make preparations for the ball. This morning we set out to take care of all the necessary formal arrangements. The first duty of the day is to gather the proper attire. This may yet prove to be a daunting task. I must confess I pity the poor tailor who must gather enough cloth to cover the massive frame of Teeny. Come to think of it, Rhynn Dohn is no small specimen himself. And Kylverin is sure to have particular tastes that may be hard to satisfy on such short notice. This day may prove to be a far more interesting adventure than exploring a corrupted shrine in the time-battered remains of Thaztilcha. Addendum – “This day may prove to be a far more interesting adventure…” When I first penned those words this morning, I had no idea just how truly they would ring…especially for Rhynn Dohn. As I sit down with my journal yet again, I am seated at the Tankard’s Tear listening to a minstrel of great beauty and talent. Her features mark her as a combination of elven and human ancestry. Her powerful voice marks her as gifted. Mere minutes ago, her lilting voice nearly brought tears to my eyes with an excellent rendition of an old elven ballad. I sit here going over the day’s events, trying to sort them out and put them to paper. It seems amazing how much can happen in such a short time.

Grievous errors… Emotions exploded this evening as Rhynn had quite a misunderstanding with one of the waitresses at Bucky’s Tavern. Apparently she was an ex-lover who had not yet moved on. Enraged by his invitation of another to the Greengrass Ball, she made quite a scene. There is no fury like a woman scorned, and I have long ago learned to keep myself clear of such raucous arguments (though truth be told, the waitress did all the arguing). Apparently Rhynn Don is just learning this valuable lesson. I beat a hasty retreat from the situation. The matter was between Rhynn and the woman: any bystanders served only to further muddy the issue.

Times like this make me feel alien; Elven sensibilities set me apart from the human culture. Though many humans have no problem making their affairs a public spectacle, in my culture these things are usually kept private. There is nothing to gain in grandiose spectacle but the stroking of fragile egos.

A Place To Call Home? As our group gathered for breakfast this morning, none other than Davin Farsight, leader of our esteemed rivals, approached us. The new Warlords of the Bloody Rose had returned from their quest and come to us with a business proposition. It seems the elder Warlords own a property they are willing to sell to our respective groups. As it is located somewhat close to the docks, it would not be considered a prime piece of land. With secret doors and a hidden exit to the sewers beneath the city, it is extremely likely to have been a safe house. However, it is a rather impressive estate with room for both the Hammers and the new Warlords. Our own sponsors, the Blades of Grace, previously spoke of providing us with accommodations. It was unanimous among the Hammers that we owe it to the Blades to check in before accepting the offer from the Warlords. We have made an appointment to do such tomorrow. If we do accept, we will need to consider personnel to provide upkeep. I will need to make some inquiries around town about where to find skilled help. A good butler is essential. A cook and maid would also prove quite useful. Once we have acquired mounts, we will also find need of a hostler and a stable hand. Kylverin suggested that we also employ a page. I will also need to allocate space to set up a rather extensive laboratory. I will need to house equipment for magical research and alchemical work, with room left to conduct experiments with constructs. Perhaps Shade of the new Warlords will need similar accommodations. If so, perhaps something can be worked out between us. If this is to work, there are many plans to be made. However, there is time enough to think things though.

When is a badger not a badger? During my exhausting ordeal of identifying items, Teeny grew closer with his pet badger. He even named the creature Tito. He later had the strange experience of Tito leading him to the local temple of Lathander. To the best of my knowledge, Lathander is a human god of dawn, rebirth, and renewal. Dali, the high priest of the temple, granted the creature access and sanctuary. Dali came to Bucky’s this morning to return Tito to Teeny. At our invitation, Dali joined us for breakfast. He was treated like royalty by the staff. It was almost comical witnessing the extreme measures taken by the barkeep to provide Dali with the best of everything. However, I have rarely met a man who seems more deserving of such fine treatment. I found Dali to be a sincere, soft-spoken man who was honestly interested in the well being of others. It is my impression that this is a very rare quality in humans of high standing. Then we had the opportunity to get to know Tito better. Through limited speech in the common tongue and Dali’s ample translations, we learned a bit of Tito’s past. Yes, Tito can speak, at least as well as his current form will allow. Though much of his past is unclear even to him, Tito remembers that he was once a human priest of Lathander named Alanon. He died or was killed. Somehow his body fell in to the hands of an old enemy who proceeded to reincarnate and torture him. Tito eventually escaped his captor and lived in the wild for a while. Avoiding the grim prospect of becoming bear food, he came across us. In accordance with the tenants of Lathander, Alanon has taken the name Tito and accepted his new lot in life as a rebirth of sorts. Rather than be crushed under the oppressive weight of a strange new existence, he has chooses to accept this twist of fate and move on, building a new life for himself. It is always a pleasure to meet one with such indomitable will. It was a relief to discover the truth about Tito. I must confess that I had been on my guard against the creature, for from the first I knew it to be in some way unnatural. Simply stated, it did not act like a badger. When is a badger not a badger? I suspected some familiar sent to spy upon us or some shape-changer attempting to infiltrate our band. I am glad I was wrong. However, this story does not yet have a happy ending. Somewhere out there is the vile, twisted person who committed such a heinous act. This person is undeniably powerful, perhaps beyond the ability of the Hammers to bring to justice. Yet, by traveling with Tito, we will inevitably have to face Alanon’s past. It would be far better for us if we sought it out rather than letting it come to us.

A fitting end The skilled assistant tailor, Pedro, handled Kylverin and my needs. A lively and easily excitable young man, he has quite a flare for human styles. Rhynn and Kylverin spent much of the time talking about their respective dates for the festival. It made me think about how lonely I am for the company of my own kind. The companionship of by fellow adventurers is stimulating, but there are times when one feels the need to be amongst others with a similar cultural heritage On an impulse, I slipped out of the shop while Pedro was busy with Kylverin. Pushing myself to act quickly, to keep from having a chance to think better of it, I tracked down Shade of the Warlords and invited her to the festival. I could tell she was startled by the abruptness of the invitation; after all, we had met only that morning. If only her grasp of the elven language were a bit stronger…I had to repeat my invitation in the human tongue before she fully understood. However, she accepted. I slipped back into the shop and found little changed since my disappearance. I do not think anyone even noticed my absence. Certainly not Pedro or Kylverin, who were busy arguing over hose. Rhynn Don was too distracted making arrangements for both himself and his date. Teeny was clearly overwhelmed by the whole affair, caught up in the middle of such bustling attention.

Third Ride, Day 7 There is little time for a journal entry this evening. My time must be spent copying some of my sketches for a dwarven craftsman. Therefore, I will be brief. Perhaps I can elaborate later. The meeting with the Blades of Grace went quite well. So well, in fact, they offered to finance the endeavor. Needless to say, we eagerly accepted this wondrous deal. The dwarven craftsman was an odd little fellow named Bubba Bad-Crack. At least, that is what he told us when we visited him within the profoundly deep halls of the Blue Boot clan. Apparently his dwarven name is hard for others to pronounce, and as a joke humans dubbed him Bubba Bad-Crack. It seems the name stuck. Back in Alden Minor I once again threw caution to the wind and erred on the side of bravery. Fortunately, things worked better this time thanks to the teamwork of the Hammers. Acting upon a cry for help, I rushed to an alley only to find it blocked by men posing as Blue Cloaks; the local city guard. Blue Cloaks are rarely in the habit of turning people away from a crime rather than subduing and arresting criminals. Kylverin and myself brushed past the guards as Teeny and Rhynn set into them. Rounding a corner, we came across a woman and a man being accosted by armed and armored brigands. The two of us managed to hold them off – barely – until Teeny and Rhynn were able to rejoin us and finish them off. The pair – a butler and a hostler – had just been let go with a handsome severance from the estate of a woman who had recently passed. The gang had apparently targeted them for this money. Before we had a chance to learn any more, the true Blue Cloaks interrupted us. The squadron was led by none other than the father of Rhynn’s date to the ball. Needless to say, for a while this made a tense matter a little tenser. For our trouble, we received a gift from the woman – the dagger used by the brigands to stab her father. It is obviously an item of magical power. Though I am curious as to its properties, it makes me nervous. Though the owner of the blade died by Teeny’s hand, this was an organized gang with magical resources and accurate reconnaissance. Given this, there may be trouble from the local thieves guild. If so, steps must be taken to prevent repercussions.

Third Ride, Day 8 I presented two problems to the group. Both were answered by “lay low and let it blow over.” The first was the matter with the brigands. The second was the matter with Alanon’s (Tito’s) captor. I fear we have not heard the last of either, though at this time I agree with their assessment. For the moment, I would rather let these issues blow over rather than face them head-on. Rhynn had a most disturbing revelation today. He was “invited” to meet with Sergeant Irongrasp, the father of his date to the ball. Apparently the conversation that ensued was the typical overprotective father type speech. However, the accoutrements behind the father’s desk – the black hood and headsman’s axe of the town executioner – seemed to give the speech a bit more impact.

Third Ride, Day 9 Good news has arrived. The couple we saved from brigands agreed to become the first of our staff at our new home. Perhaps the home needs a name. Hammer Hall? Justice Hall? No, these sound far too much like a human courtroom. Daemon is a butler by trade. Margaret is a hostler. We spent the day showing them around the place, talking about our plans for the future, and letting them know what duties are expected.

Third Ride, Day 10 Nearly the whole day has been spent making final preparations for tomorrow’s ball. The whole town is in full bustle, yet strangely quiet. It is much like the strange sensation before a powerful storm.

Greengrass The ball could not have gone better. We were a hit, and certainly brought glory to our sponsors. Kylverin was certainly in his element, making a lasting impression upon all with an extravagant display of grace on the dance floor and poise with a poem I translated. Teeny and a human bodyguard, perhaps the strongest woman I have ever seen, began their own courtship dance. Rhynn’s actions could best be described as diplomatic. He walked the fine line between date and doomed with expert grace. Shade and I have gotten to know each other a little better. Disturbingly, I discovered her magic is focused mainly upon manipulation of the dead. Necromancy. Though I am a fierce proponent that no spell is intrinsically evil, I do not willfully seek out such spells. If I come across them in my explorations, fine. They are merely tools.

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More to come
adding things soon

This was my groupd first campaign I have TONS of information just have to figure out how and what order to post it.

Thanks for look.

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