Chapter Four: The Shadow of the Ironmaster

Session was held at the Cabin of Shadows 16th - 17th of August 

"The summer breeze that still at the continent felt somewhat warm, had now turned into a  much more biting variety. Such was it's bite that a man peering over the edge of the ship shriveled.The wind blowing from the distant shore brought a familiar smell, sweet yet stingy scent of a wild-pepper bush. It was rather surprising that such a plant had spread to such northern latitude. The scent also brought up memories.
It was a sunny summer day of course. He and his little sister Nin were up to go fishing with old bachelor Jaamakki Sammaltakki, although Jaamakki was widely considered as bad influence for the two young ones. And what a splendid day for fishing it was, as the river near the village was abundant of fine catch. As the sun began to descend, the two young ones decided to return to the village, while the old bachelor stayed for little longer. There as the siblings made their way back, a strong scent of wild-pepper bushes that grew near their home, tickled the noses of the two.
As they turned to the small paved road only a lep from their home, they saw mob of people buzzing around their home. Aunt-Berthe ran to the children and weeping and hugging the two who were oblivious for what had happened. None of the five river-perches they had catch was eaten, as the aunt took the two to her place, as there were no one left waiting for the siblings at their home.
The sorrow that followed as the children realized what had happened soon turned into anger, and it was fed by the constant sympathies and condolences that the villager poured on the two orphans. Only two weeks after the grievous incident, they left their aunts house, half-empty backpacks with only some food and stolen silverware of their aunts. And a bag of pepper."

The journey through the northern seas had finally begun. Captain Saltskin  and Enoch Crowgale had calculated that it would take them approximately one and a half week to reach the delta of River Shaengarne at the coast of the Icewind Dale.  The river would then take our fellowship all away up to the port of Targos at lake Maer Dauldon. But neither could the Captain or sage Crowgale foresee if the river was passable all the way up to the lake.

An albatross is always an omen.

Virgin Ingrid was a seaworthy ship mostly due it's skilled crew. When the captain attended other bussinesses, first mate Kolben was in charge. Bosun Hröngvid watched after the benefits of the crew, while old geezer Fisheye was at the lookout. As the crew functioned like a machine, there was little for our expedition members to do than plan for the future moves.
While Posco was gazing the ice-blue sea, Lord Haldurssens personal guard Gorim came to talk to him. It was clear that the only real flaw that this northern warrior really had was his constant urge for nonsense chit-chat. There talking, the pair spotted a bird flying around the mast, and Posco decided to drop it with his crossbow. Bulls-eye! But the triumphant shot took a grim turn as the crew started to curse for their fate, as the bird they shot was indeed a black albatross. It was generally considered as a ill omen, and killing one was a sincere death wish. Captain Saltskin himself was needed to spare the two from a vicious mugging, but the grudge kept living on.

Later that night, Posco was confronted while taking a leak. Brondir, a cautious crew-member had decided to settle the problem with his own knife. Three stabs-to-the-neck later Posco flushed Brondirs corpse down the ships head. Only possible witness for this self-defense turned to murder was Fisheye, but he was fast asleep in his lookout, so Posco decided to keep it all to himself. Brondir was longed the day after, but he was soon considered as drowned by accident.

Days passed by slowly. As they sailed further to the north, the coastline became more and more forlorn. As the climate shifted towards winters grip, Konrad Haldurssen decided to stay below the deck, where he was accompanied by Valkurs priestress Abigail Bousson. The two northerners Onarr and Gorim werein good terms with the crew, meanwhile Thyngall Pedersen stayed mainly by himself. Hornbori  had a long history as a sailor so he took part of daily dues with the crew. Faerhar Bogomoloff  befriended with another sturdy bearded fellow, Bolwyn. Nespil Crowgale hanged out with his old mercenary comradew Artyom, as old man Enoch Crowgale studied his maps and notes. Posco socialized with everyone, as the halflings often do, unlike Thelon whose presence was shunned by most men, except his old mates. But nobody wanted to talk to the half-orc, and the one who wanted the least was the orc himself, Orgots mind had been shattered by the grievous defeat by the Hellmaker and he was still struggling to reason this.

That night a great flock of glowing medusas illuminated the ship that steered trough the dark waters. An eerie sight was destinied to take more lethal turn as an aberration approached from the depths. The beast was known as Uchool by the marines, a slime-condensed crustacean with a paralyzing touch to life. It's corroding slime did terrible burns to few crewmembers, but together the heroes succeeded to fend the aberration off.

This was just the beginning of the all the bad luck that was going to be poured over them. When the ship had been at sea for a week, a fog entwined the vessel. Steering blind, it was only a matter of time that something happened. An small iceberg collided to ships keel, making a breach to the hull. With the aid of our heroes, the hole was mended shut and sailor Frode, who was injured badly, was saved. But there was no end for the mist. Two days already in the freezing curtain had turned the ship into a frosty ghost galleon.

22nd of Flamerule and the mist finally pulled back, only to reveal how bad the situation had actually gone. Virgin Ingrid was stuck between floes. Saltskin pondered the situation and came to a conclusion that the ship could be freed, but it would require a combined effort of everyone aboard. Picks and shovels in their hand, the crew and the expedition descended on to the ice raft and begun chopping the ice. Thyngal Pederesen and a shipmate Geirfast took a leave with captains permission, as a group of seals was spotted nearby. At dusk people realized that the two hunters had not come back and thus our heroes promised to go and take a look for the missing men. They managed to climb on the top of a nearest snowhill only to find  fatally injured Pedersen. Without divine magic, Thyngall would have been dead meat, but now life was restored in his thawed veins. He spoke about a monster that sprung from the ice, ripped Geirfast apart and wounded him with it's terrible claw. Thyngall was obviously struck with fear. But for Geirfasts soul, our band decided to push on. Following Thyngalls blood trail, they soon got to the scene of assault. Nearby, an entrance to a ice-cavern was discovered

Ice Troll

The cavern was vast. In fact, so vast that it hold an age old shipwreck inside. The path was clear to the wreck, as the beast had obviously had no intention of hiding the trail of gore that was left behind from poor Geirfast. Inside the old hull our adventurers finally found what they were searching for, a big troll with a ice-blue hide, enjoying it's human meal. Confronting the powerful creature with an ability to rend a man into pieces, was tricky, but with Bolwyns expertise defense techniques against giants like this, the heroes were able to battle against it with relative ease. It tried to out-maneuver them, but justice was dealt nevertheless. While catching their breath, a opportunity was taken to loot the old shipwreck, and they did indeed find some plunder.

When ascending from the caverns, they realized to be stranded by night and snowfall, that had all the manners of oncoming blizzard. Pushing their luck, the team decided to penetrate the night, even tough captain Saltskin had warned them about the night on a iceraft. Soon they were completely engulfed by the chilling darkness.

Frost Hag - Marzanna

From the snowfall a menace erupted. With a magic hail of ice and snow a creature attacked the party, numbing the men with it's cold magic. After a short moment of confusion, the attacker was identified as some sort of a witch or hag, that manipulated  the elements of winter with it's dread spells. It's mere gaze infused our heroes with terror, and it's horrific claws shred armor padding like a cleaver cuts meat. The Marzanna, as the sailors later identified the hag to be, struck down our mercenary champions one after another. Without the aid of an another search party led by Captain Saltskin himself, the four heroes would have been frozen to death by the winter-hag. As they finally regained their consciousness by the help and aid of Saltskins crew, it seemed that poor Orgot had taken the greatest punishment, once again.

The ship was finally freed from it's icy shackles a day after the battle. the others recovered quite well, even badly mutilated Thyngall Pedersen showed signs of recovery, but Orgot had been struck down once and for all. The half-orc cleric did some serious self-examination somewhere in the cargo-hold, before he finally returned to the deck. He recovered, but the wound would never fully heal.

The ship was finally inbound to it's destination. They sailed north along the Cold Run, steep and icy cliff that separated the Icewind Dale from the Sea of Moving Ice. As the river delta of Shaengarne was seen, crew sighed in relief, as the most perilous phase of their journey was presumable behind. Saltskin himself steered the ship through it, letting the cold breeze from the sea push Virgin Ingrid upriver.

Stranded by ice - Never again!

Cold Run's cliffs rose as high as the ships mast and the relief soon changed back to anxiety. Suspension was increasing exponentially, when like a flash in a night sky, a volley of arrows flew towards the vessel. Many took hits, especially Fisheye at the lookout. Following the sudden volley, fierce barbarian men assaulted the ship, jumping from the cracks and faults of the cliffside. The quiet waiting had turned into high-scale carnage. Men were struck down, impaled by keen arrows, cast overboard. But our heroes were trained to withstand even a attack of two dozen barbarian raiders, so eventually the scale shifted back to the sailors. Also, an unexpected aid arrived as someone smote and rushed the archers from atop the cliff. As the battle ceased, five dwarves , who had slain the archers, descended down to the ships deck.

The small troupe was known as the Ironwatch, elite soldiers, trained in guerrilla manner. The officer in charge, Burthon Steelshirt saluted the ships crew, but within the same sentence he told the captain that the ship was thus commandeered by the right of Ironwatch of the Ironmaster. Captain had his objections but turning against these five battle-machines would have certainly come with such a cost that it just wasn't worth the risk. So did Burthon Steelshirt steer Virgin Ingrid up the stream, all the way to their dwarven citadel, the Ironmaster. Enoch Crowgale knew some of the legends surrounding the colossal burrow, but he had not foreseen how it had spanned across the river, forming something like a steel barrage where no ship would sail without paying a toll.

Citadel Ironmaster

Such was the gargantuan scale of the fortress, that the ship was steered into a giant hangar, where hundreds of dwarven soldiers were waiting. When the ship was attached into a peer, a delegate marched in. Dwarf known as the First Master invited some of the more prominent individuals to attend a meeting deep within the fortress, and as our fellowship had no intentions to resist, they followed the dwarves. A counsil of six Masters greeted the captain and the expedition. They informed that due certain policies, a toll must be paid before the ship can pass the barrage. And as the ship was carrying cargo of zero value, a favors of some other sort must be made. The council asked, or frankly speaking, ordered the heroes to perform a small task to ensure the ships allowance to pass.

First Master explained that the citadel was led by  Grandmaster Thadaragin. But the Grandmaster had grown old, and after he turned 500 years, he became almost a like a mummy. And the council believes that this is due that he is missing one of the four artifacts, forged by his great-great-grandfather, the original Ironmaster. The item in question was a platinum beard-buckle, that was buried in mistake to Grandmasters fathers tomb. And now the council ask politely for the heroes to retrieve it in most delicate manner, as it is forbidden for the dwarves living in the citadel to enter into the tombs of the old Grandmasters. Our mercenaries thought the plan was ridiculous but agreed to perform it nevertheless. Armed only with crowbars and torches, as the dwarves had confiscated and forbidden their usual weapons

The catacombic dungeons were an unhallowed site at least. Bolwyn had tremendous difficulties perform the task in hand, due his own dwarven lineage, and what they were up to, was certainly an heinous act indeed. After hall after hall of dwarven statues and reliquary, they finally saw mithral doors that opened into the the Chamber of the Grandmasters. A murky hall with tomb entrances on it's sides, had a great iron statue depicting the original Ironmaster. But something else was there too. A bunch of vile subterranean dwellers were chopping pieces of metal off of the statue. As our heroes confronted them, the creatures charged against them. Someone later identified the beings as Derro, a mutated dwarven subrace dwelling deep within the Underdark, tormented by madness. The derro had dug themselves into one of the tombs, where they had spotted the iron statue in the main hall, but whatever were their intentions, everyone was struck down, except for a single individual that was carried for the dwarves for questioning. The platinum buckle was also recovered from the old grandmasters tomb, although it was protected with vicious traps.

The Council of Six Masters was glad for the recovery and they were convinced that this would help them the regain touch with the old grandmaster. But the expedition would not see this happen, as they were quickly escorted back to their ship, that was granted a permit to pass the barrage. The visit at the Ironmaster was probably one of the most efficient ever.

Virgin Ingrid was back in line, and Saltskin calculated that they would reach the port of Targos in two days. Such was the merry mood for the rest of the voyage, that they even picked up two peasant fishermen along the way. Mathias and Ingred were their names and they were first to introduce the northern moonshine called Vyrymborouh to our heroes.

As the journey was almost over, Orgots depression peaked. During a stormy night he climbed into the mast in order to contact his deity Talos. He spoke every single chant he knew, trying to call forth his god to answer him. He was certain that the thundergod would strike him down instantly, and thus release him from the misery, but instead the wicked stormlord sent it's harbinger instead. From the clouds a elemental of pure storm nature descended, raining lighting and terror upon the ship. A bolt struck Orgot, thrusting him down to the deck. As the others joined in to the battle, Orgot knew that his god had not abandoned him. Defeating the storm elemental was quite a task, resulting even in some deaths of the crewmembers. Despite the general state of misery, the ship reached it's destination. Dockworkers at the Targosian harbor were amazed how a ship of such size and condition had managed to come up to the lake Maer Dauldon.

As the sailors prized the firm land under their feet maybe more than ever before, many within the expedition had certain doubts about the upcoming journey. 
If the prequel had already been such a chain of disasters, how would they ever survive the full adventure.  

And the journey continues...