Matthew Hunter

Madtoad

After a misspent youth as a seafarer on some, let’s say, less than reputable vessels, I was ready to get my land-legs back under me and spend some time doing some good in the world. I’d traveled about as far inland as I could stand (I still miss the smell of the salty sea-air, and can hardly sleep without the lapping of the waves against the boat) and found myself in a township called Prigswort. A sizable city, bigger than most of the port cities I’d spent time in, though not as big as the occasional coastal capital city. The whole place was buzzing with activity, as I seemed to arrive on some sort of festival day. I was low on funds and food, and hoping to find a way to make some gold appear in my pockets. A couple of nights in an inn where I could play for some locals for some spending cash and maybe a night in a cozy bed would be a good start, but I was thinking I’d need a bigger stake to breathe easy and figure out my next move. One of the things my minstrel instructors did manage to drill into my head was that if you were looking for work you could do worse than to find something like the Gray Company and ask about adventuring jobs, so the first thing I did was figure out where a Gray Company headquarters was in town and head directly there. There was a man there sitting at a table just inside the door. Bald, hair sticking out of his ears, nose like a bulb of garlic, he gave no credence to my existence, despite my saying hello, good morning, and excuse me, in that order. It was like whatever he was looking at on the piece of paper he had in front of him had transfixed him. Or he’d fallen asleep. I took the lute from my back and tried playing a tune. An ascending arpeggio from C-minor up got me nowhere. A quick double-time through a classic sea shanty also brought no attention my way. Finally, practically flummoxed, I pulled my hands together, tightening them on the strings, and let out a sustained discordant note that got him to jerk his head up and snort through his nose. He looked me over, leather jerkin, all-weather poncho, wild brown hair and unshaven face and frowned. “What do you want?” he asked in a voice as gruff as a billy goat’s. “I’m looking for work.” “Isn’t everyone?” I didn’t know whether everyone was or not so I simply stared back at him. After a few seconds he said, “We don’t book musicians, kid.” “I’m not looking for-” “There’s a few inns up and down the main street, there’s, uh-” “I’m looking for something more interesting than that.” He looked me over again. I turned slightly so he could see the sword strapped to my thigh, and the quiver of arrows on my back. He squinted at me and said, “Hm.” A woman came dancing from somewhere in the back, slightly older and said, “Are you bothering this young man?” It took me a moment to realize she wasn’t talking to me, but to the man at the table. “I’ve come looking for work.” I said. “And you’ll have it.” She answered back. “Try the Clashed Antler.” “Is that an Inn?” I asked, crestfallen. “Yes.” She said, in a lilting voice. “I’m not looking for music work.” I said. “Nor should you. But there’s a group of adventurer’s staying there called the Glorious Blades. They may have some work for you. And if not, take this.” She shoved a crumpled piece of parchment into my hand. “It’s not much but it’s a start. Now go. Go on. I’ve got to get this one back to being useful.” She looked into the man’s eyes, he’d fallen asleep again. As I left the Gray Company’s office I heard her shouting, “Coffee! You need coffee!”

Session map

Bern

After Ygnas announced that she had used the stone arch as a portal to the elemental plane of fire and burned down the town, we fled. We stuck to the road for about four hours, eventually meeting up with Kiba well outside of town and spending the night there. In the morning we investigated the signs of a battle between mosslings are some sort of winged creature. The details were unclear, but there was a dead mossling with four blue nuts. I took his nuts; they might be valuable.

Bern

Somehow a bunch of fresh faces from the Glorious Blades joined us out here. How they found us I have no idea. Pretty sure I don’t know where I am at this point. But Rowen must have had something to do with it, since she wandered out of town muttering about ley lines about the same time. I let her go without comment. I don’t need ley lines, I need my arm fixed. I did ask Kiba if she brought my wardogs from camp. This was supposed to be a quick excursion to help u-Heury with his winter princess before a quick trip back to base to figure out a plan for the hag. Somehow we skipped the back to base part. She denied having the dogs. Oh well. They might have come in handy.

Session map

Bern

Ygnas caught up to join us, and we left town to the south after picking up the weatherproof cloak Rowen had ordered for me. About the cloak, the less said the better. It’s waterproof, and highly visible. I think the designer described it as plaid. Or maybe paisley. I don’t know what those words mean, but a blind elephant could see this cloak from miles away. I’m going to have to pack it back up any time I need to hide. As soon as I can afford a new one, I’m cutting this one up and making a ghilley suit.

Bern

The “not that simple” part started when Rowen burst through the door. We explained what was happening with the mossy dwarf, and trekked back to Blackeswell, passing a strange black iron cauldron on the way. Someone had hidden it next to a wolf’s den. When we woke up in the morning, it had moved closer to me, apparently by itself. Creepy.

Back in Blackeswell, we stopped by the Klepp workshop. A number of folk kept a wary eye on the place, and tried to run us off, despite our clear and true explanation that we had a package to deliver. Since it was getting dark, we took rooms at the inn for the night and resolved to try again in the morning.

Session map

Bern

We traveled further south and encountered the town of Blackeswell, which was very fishy. All the food and drink smelled strongly of fish and was quite green. We refused to take more than a single sip or swallow of the stuff, fearing we would turn as green as most of the populace. We spoke to a priest who claimed to serve St Gondyw, but he was completely unwelcoming and would rather be rid of us. He also seemed to have an unholy interest in one Mr. Clep, who (according to other townsfolk) had recently arrived in the city and was buying up property rapidly for unspecified purposes.

Bern

u-Heury finally made his wish: “I wish for my beautiful princess, who remains loyal to me through time, to come to me, riding on her mammoth when it is time to form my kingdom.” The kid spent a mighty long time thinking to come up with that. He seems to think he deserves a kingdom, a beautiful princess, and a mammoth. The loyal bit was an interesting twist, and I’m curious how tall his princess and her mammoth will be seeing as he was about 6 inches tall when he made the wish. That part, at least, wore off eventually.

Feverborne

When the ancient fortuneteller in Cloacina’s congregation told me I had to leave right away to save my friends, I didn’t ask many questions. She said to go to the manse of the lady Ygraine, near Westkeep, and I was familiar with the place. More, I knew Bern had been sniffing around that area – probably literally, he’s as much beast as man – in search of a cure for his withered arm. So I set off immediately on my trusty horse Antipesto.

Nottanis

Shortly before we left the rebel camp, a young man named Gareth asked to join our group. He felt that leaving in our company might give him a better chance of escaping whatever curse held Meagre’s Reach in thrall. We agreed, having no real reason not to allow it, and set off at dawn. Despite the dire warnings and Gareth’s presence, we had no problem departing the area, and made our way to the manse of Ygraine. After a brief discussion, and observing a slow approach of swan boats carrying people we presumed to be guests, we chose to approach and find out what we could.

Nottanis

We didn’t make it back tomorrow, or the next day. We dragged our coin, poorly hidden, past a traveling caravan; we paid extortion money to a gargoyle with two mossy statues; we suffered through blood rain and invisible hail and the worst cold I’ve ever had. We did finally make it to town, where absolutely everyone wanted to know what we had in the urns.

We did notice a few details in town. The road leading east was being repaved with strange new cobblestones that had a dark and glittery quality to them. Rowen commented that they looked almost as if they reflected the night sky. There appeared to be a workshop making the stones in town.