Narratives from the Cold Waste - Part II

Bolwyn wrapped the furs tighter against the freezing cold of the night and bit on the stem of his pipe. The ice on it's surface stuck to his chapped lips painfully. He couldn't remember when he'd last had a decent pipeful. His pipeweed was frozen and useless. It would be impossible to get it burning in these conditions, but it wouldn't stop him trying. He couldn't even remember when he'd groomed his beard. Not that there was much left after the brief visit to blazing inferno inside the remorhaz. Running his hand through the charred remains Bolwyn wondered: "Maybe I should just cut the rest of it off and start all over again?"

Cursing his blasphemous thought Bolwyn ripped the pipe from his lips a spat mightily. The slightly bloody splatter was frozen solid before it hit the ground. He didn't want to be here. He had never wanted to be here. He should be back home feeling the heat of the forge on his face as he created tools of destruction for their soldiers. He could be of use like Moradin had intended. Instead he was out here chasing idle fantasies, but orders were orders.

"Crumbling stone" Bolwyn muttered to himself , but the dwarven phrase didn't fit the situation. There were no hidden flaws. This expedition hadn't looked promising to begin with, and now it had turned from bad to worse. The message "There is no Thule" was ominous enough, but what frightened him more was the tunnel before them. He didn't know how deep it ran. If it really would take them to the Underdark, they would be in trouble.

 Journeys there were dangerous enough with highly skilled deepwardens. 

With this bunch of surface dwellers it would be fatal.

Narratives from the Cold Waste - Part I

Thelon Celtharion stood a little bit outside the camp staring at the frozen landscape. The tears flowing on Enoch Crowgale's face from seeing his son die had hardly dried and the news of the words ”There is no Thule” had hit the camp.

Eventhough the two recent deaths of their comrades and the personal wounds Thelon had suffered in the battle against the white wyrm darkened his mind, he felt surprised. Surprised that considering the difficulties they had faced so far, these were the first two deaths to happen. And how many more there would be considering that Thelon didn't believe this was the end. Didn't believe that Thule wouldn't exist. There still had to be something and they would find out what, as soon as Crowgale was ready to continue.

Thinking about the strange writings on the sign in the tunnel, another thought once again conquered his thoughts. The magical symbols and Slaadi at Sarhild. The Grey Wanderer. Thelon didn't have any evidence but still those events brought old memories to his mind. Could it be what he thought? It may have been only wishful thinking but it also seemed too convenient to be just a coincidence.

Despite these events or possibly because of them Thelon felt more confident than ever. These were only obstacles that could be passed. In the grand scale of thing his missions had not changed. Neither of them.

Chapter Seven: No River To Take Me Home

 Session was held at Casa De Grandiosa in 15th of March

There is no man who would head north with a light cause. Although the thousand stars shimmer on the night sky, and Aurora Borealis might illuminate the way, the northern darkness won't unbind it's shackles. And still as you go, the ever-gnawing cold reaches your core, despite all the efforts to keep warm.
To this very journey you will lose yourself. There is no fellow to walk that path alongside you, no comrade to comfort you. 
Alone must you stride, like descending into an open grave. Into vast emptiness.

Reghed Glacier

Cold northern winds slashed it's cold whip against the Expeditions men. Morale was plumetting as day's labor consisted of walking trough seemingly endless cold wastes the Reghed Glacier with no sign of destination. As they had journeyed on the glacial ice for three days already, following Enoch Crowgale's vague destination, old-man Crowgale was finally ready to announce their next waypoint. He had studied the rose-red gem pendant that they had taken from it's guardian back in Dol Aurmeth, and according to Crowgale it did indeed show them their next destination. Either or not it was of makings of Valgaerd the Whitefarer, they did not know, but it was the only reasonable clue they had at the moment.

Valgaerds Pendant

Enoch explained that the seven holes of the pendant matched to well-known constellation known as the Crown of the North or Cold Crown. This same seven-star celestial body was known by the northerners as the Eye of Evil and Hole That Leads To Darkness. Phrases of old northern language, sort of a proto-illuskan was ascribed to the center of the pendant. Crowgale had been translating it the last few days and he was ready to announce his findings

See the Cold Crown rise,

fourteen days in a row.

When you stand with

 the Goddess of Magic, 

Alagairtha will

lead your way.

Crowgale thus presumed that Expedition was to continue it's march northwards, taking bearings from the constellation that rose to the northern sky every night. And at the end of fourteenth day they would reach a location that would guide them further. As an waypoint this was somewhat indefinite, but the men continued nevertheless.

Crust of Ice
Days at the glacier came with a steep learning curve. Many near go situations showed them to watch their step as hidden crevasses lurked under the thin crusts of ice and snow. Sunlight made the snow into a bright blinding mirror, and sudden snowstorms came with much too brief notice.

On fifteenth of August,  seventh day of of their fourteen-day quest, a climb onto a snowy steppe drove the expedition face-to-face with a herd of woolly mammoths! As the herd made a defensive circle, young bull mammoth decided to make a show-off and charged towards the men and dog-sleds. Due Orgots abnormally quick wits, that charge was fended off as the half-orc cleric evoked a wall of fire on the front of the mammoth. No animals were harmed nor blood spilled that day.

But luck was not on their side the next day. Days journey was suddenly interrupted as someone spotted something big flying towards them. Quickly a fearful cry was heard aloud "DRAGON"! Our heroes organized everyone to spread out in fear for a devastating breath attack that everyone was familiar with. The white scaled creature landed to their front and started yapping with it's crude dragonic language. It was slightly bigger than the largest war horses, thus making it just an young adult dragon, but a dire threat nevertheless. Thelon who had studied draconian languages back in Evermeet translated it's will to the party.

Nidhogrym was it's name and it wanted "all the furry ones" meaning the dogs that pulled the sleds. Of course this was a no go, and our heroes demanded the drake to back off and fly away. Arrogant young wyrm took that as an insult and launched an attack. It's frozen breath freezed many capes as most of the expedition ran away due it's frightful presence. But our Thelon, Orgot, Bolwyn and Posco stayed, fighting off the dragon. So did Nespil Crowgale and his mercenary friend Artyom. Rest of the men who were not panicked did their best to handle the dogs. Even old man Konrad Haldurssen shot few bolts from his dog sled.

Young white dragon did not posses the power to usurp it's prize, and it retreated cursing and hauling insults. But it's last breath hit Thelon with cold-feet, and the elven warrior was blown down. He suffered partial nerve damage of permanent status, but everyone was happy to still have him.

Unexpected departure..
On the ninth night of their journey, a new struck of bad luck presented itself. The camp was alerted in hearth of the night as Abbie Bousson cried for help. Watchmen at the shift along with Posco rushed to Abbies tent, where her tent-mates Gorim and Enoch were leaning over fourth member of that tent, Konrad Haldurssen. Old man Lord Haldurssen was coughing badly, an it was evident that he was on his death-throes. For days Abbie had tended his health but his time had come.

Few moments later Konrad Haldurssen took his last breath. His last words were "I'm afraid". Enoch Crowgale spoke to the men on that bleak night, announcing Haldurssens death due poor health and old age. Crowgale said that it was Haldurssens dream to reach Ultima Thule, as he was sure that he would regain his health there and see many good years. This was not the case this time, but Enoch did his best to rise the men's morale. Still, many suspicious words were whispered.

On the eleventh day the expedition discovered old remains of a camp that had apparently been build
 by similar expedition. Nothing of value was discovered, but remains of a man were found from old wreck of a tent. Causes of death for this headless corpse were unknown, so no conclusions could been made.

They stayed it the same vale with the ruins for the night, making funeral pyres from the old camp for Konrad Haldurssen and the unidentified body. Memorial words were said.

.. And an unexpected arrival.
Day later the expedition was preparing the camp for the night as a blizzard was arriving from the north with haste. The preparations were put on hold two unidentified men were closing the camp from south. They announced to be friendly men seeking shelter. It quickly became apparent that the man speaking was none-the-less than Windmill Hágo, notorious swashbuckler from Luskan. He had been on a journey with his friend Agnor and two wizards of the Arcane Brotherhood Obiran and Feldolin. But northern harsh climate and rumors of frost giant kingdom Kongrike ov Hvítrfjell had been too much for the spellcasters, who had left with magic, leaving Hágo and Agnor alone to the glacier.
Hágo admitted that they had been following the expedition as a mission granted by the Brotherhood, but now that they were abandoned by it, they had no ill-thoughts about the expedition. Thus they wished to join in order to survive, as travelling alone in a glacier was quite suicidal.

After brief negotiations, the members of expedition decided to take Hágo and Agnor in, but many doubtful thoughts were shared between the heroes. Posco even did some eavesdropping on following night to learn Hágos motives, but no evidence of bluff or vile play was present, it seemed that their intentions were genuine.

Destination unkown
As the blizzard stormed for a day, the expedition reached their destination on the fifteenth day, instead of the fourteenth. It seemed that they had arrived to the upper parts of huge ice-fjord, a stream of ice that slowly drained over the years into a vast snowy plain that seemed to be an frozen sea. As night descended upon the glacier and the Cold Crown rose once a gain, Crowgale witnessed a distinct change in the pendant. It gleamed in the starlight, and a engraved picture of the same ice-fjord appeared into the pendant. In the middle of the engraving was a arrow, a clue for their next way point.

Valgaerds pendant with some obvious changes

Thus they slept the night at the top of the glacier and begun descending the ice stream in the morning. Icy slopes and ridges that served as their path were treacherous, and many close calls were witnessed. But luckily no one swerved down. Finally they reached the half-way of the fjord. Quickly an anomaly was discovered, as one bright blue icewall had steam coming from it. On a closer inspection it was revealed that finger thick stream of boiling hot water was pouring from a small crack in the ice.

General consensus was that this had to have something to do with pendants clue, and untrustworthy newcomer Hágo was ordered to use pick against the ice wall. Shielded with elemental protection spell, he began his work, hitting the wall few times hard. But that was few time more than enough. Something moved inside the ice, something that seemed to move in quite lively fashion. Suddenly the whole wall exploded, as it seemed that it had been somekind of a pocket of boiling water, washing Hágo almost off the edge of the cliff. As the fog and steam caused by the water had disappeared a bit, many covered in terror as two centipede-like monsters rattled their red fins.

These abominations were known as remorhaz, monsters of the cold north, with a heat so impressive in their insides that it could destroy even steel weapons that hit the creature. Everyone attacked these monsters with fury as it was apparent that it was either them or us. Their carapace was penetrable, but while everyone were smashing the hell out, Bolwyn and Nespil Crowgale were grappled into maws of these centipede beasts and eventually swallowed whole. This resulted into even more desperate fight, and thanks to newcomers Hágo and Angor, both mosters were struck down.


Bolwyn emerged from the gizzards with severe amnesia, bad burns and wounds alike, but Nepil never recovered from his horrendous wounds. Witnessing the horrible death of his one son, Enoch Crowgale fell to weep and cry his sons fate. Whole expedition was struck with grief as something like this was expected but not welcomed.


As grieving the decesed continued, someone explored a long cavernous tunnel that seemed to lead far into the the Underdark, that was now exposed from the wall. Only thirty feet from the entrance, there was a an ancient wooden board struck into the ice floor like a sign. Thelon managed to decipher the old runes used in it, but he did not known the language. But Enoch knew, and despite his sons demise, he came to the tunnel to see the sign. Tears already in his eyes he turned even more pale as he understood the signs meaning:

"það er engin Thule - There is no Thule"

Chapter Three: Wretches Who Stride Towards Their Doom - Part II

Session was held 25th of May at the Skyhouse of Slumber

Fifth of Flamerule. We're once again stationed at the Seven Sails Inn. I do not overstate that is truly a miracle that we're still here. Our operation for saving Captain Agmuind Saltskin from the bowels of Underkeel took a direct hit, as a group of scaly gate-guards assaulted our backs. Never have likes of those creatures walked on the golden sands of Evermeet, my gratitude for the Lords for that! Luckily our companionship proved to be more hard-woven than the scaly hides of those lurking swamp beasts. Nevertheless, we were blown out from fatigue and injuries, and pushing deeper into the rectory of evil seemed like a suicide. So we reverted, a decision that brought us shame.

"Yeah, we're alright!"

 Now as I am writing this from the warmth of my bed, I am confident that next morning will be ours, and Captain Saltskin will be freed. On the wider scale, I suspect that our leave for the Expedition will be near. Enoch Crowgale has pushed his preparations and he's almost done. As long as we have a proven captain to sail us to the shores of the Icewind Dale. I believe that the journey will be unforgettable. I also believe in Posco, but I must question Bolwyns motives, as I do question the orc, whose name I refuse to utter. My dear brother would never endorsed such a company. And what comes to my search.. I am still alone.
-Thelon

Return to the Source

As the dawn broke from the shackles of mother night, our adventurers ate a quick fix of nourishing breakfast, and headed back to the forgotten sewers of Luskan. As the chance to save Saltskins life grew weaker by every passing hour, the fellows proceeded with haste. Quick descend through the reeking tunnels of decay brought them back to the gates of Underkeel. The door that  was guarded by vicious lizardmen a day before, now supported new guardsmen. Three human scoundrels now manned the post and while doing so they were cleaning up the deceased scalykind, throwing the corpses to the same filthy current from where they launched their surprise assault on our braves. A goblin named Shadlarg was giving them orders, a queer choice to be a lieutenant in Hellmakers private army.

Shadlarg - Barghest

Our rescuers proceeded to storm the gate, again. This time Posco opened the fire with his keen crossbow, wounding the scoundrels with several volleys of sharp halfling-sized toothpicks that they call crossbow bolts. In the mean time, the rest charged on the gateguards, swords blazing. As suspected, the goblin had a reason to hold the rank of a lieutenant, as it shapeshifted into the form a giant wolf. It was a creature called Barghest. And it was quickly killed.

With Shadlargs key, the sturdy iron door into Hellmakers underground lair was easily opened. Our heroes raided few chambers, beating down Hellmakers bouncers and his another officer, Regortass Blackscale, a huge black scaled man-lizard. Finally they stroke down a door that lead into inner chambers. There, at the edge of a great chasm, a group of prisoners was held. To free them, our saviors had to battle with two entities of malevolent, god-hating evil. These gargoyle-like creatures are known as Kir-Lanan originating from some outer plane of existence, brought to the face of Toril by the Time of Troubles. Their powerful connection to negative energy proved challenging, but the steel of the blades didn't mind, it ate their flesh just as eagerly. With the monsters smit down, the heroes checked the condition of the prisoners. Most of them were dead or dying, but one persistent prick of a captain was still breathing. Although he was alive, he was clinging at the end. Happy to see familiar faces, Captain Saltskin thanked our heroes and swore that he would keep the fees for the upcoming voyage at minimum.

 - Hellmaker -
Artists impression from
Poscos vague remembrance

Saltskin was left to regain some of his vitality for the return through the tunnels as our braves decided to open the last and the most menacing door at the Underkeel. As the heavy iron door swung open, they saw a powerful looking "man" sitting by a table, back towards them. The man was painting some dark and devious painting on a canvas that might as well be one made of human skin. With a deep voice from the Abyss, the thing spoke:

”Do you, or do you not, wish to slay me? Well, will you, or will you not force me to lift my flail? Do you even know, WHO exactly calls me the Hellmaker? The Sinners, the sinners call me Hellmaker. And that is for I am an Angel of Retribution. And by the Right of my lord, Asmodeus, I will smite you down!

And after a ponderous monologue, the demon-spawn launched a devastating attack upon our braves. It swung its heavy flail, crushing the bone and sinew of everything that tried to make a stand against it. The Hellmaker proved to be worth of its name. Crushing Thelon, mangling Bolwyn and decimating Orgot, only Posco managed to escape from sure doom. Wounded captain Saltskin by his side, they ascended back to Luskans streets, grieving for the terrible outcome of the supposed-to-be triumph.

At the Seven Sails Inn, Posco wept for his fallen comrades, as did Agmuind Saltskin, although he was still glad to be among the living. The small halfling drowned his sorrow into a jug of beer, as fell into nightmare infested slumber. Hours later, Posco woke up as he heard screams from the streets. He followed the innkeeper and several patrons to the streets to investigate the source of this cry that was filled with terror. There, hanging head down from a top beams of a nearby house, was the rest of the adventurers. As they

were lowered, the rescuers saw that Bolwyn and Thelon were both grievously injured , but Orgot had sustained an injury with far more serious consequences. His will had been shattered. As the rest regained their strength and vigor back in a week or two, Orgot never became the same wretch of an orc again. To top this, they all had a text "Hellmaker" carved to their chests.

There was no apparent reason why Hellmaker had spared their lives, except to show his power over life and death. And also now he had three walking signs of his victory.

Preparations

Next week was full of errands for the upcoming expedition. Dwarven merchant Jando Karakas was the one to deliver all the items and equipment, rations and supplies for the voyage, and a long hours were spent planning for the delivery lists. By the initiative of Enoch Crowgale, the expedition members also met each other for the first time. And here is the full list of men who boarded Saltskins ship and headed to north to search for glory:

• Enoch Crowgale - The Expedition Leader, scribe and mastermind.
• Konrad Haldurssen - the financer, according to his own words, wishes to experience adventure one more time.
• Nespil Crowgale - Head of Security
• Artyom - Mercenary muscle from the Red Dogs
• Gorim - Haldurssens personal bodyguard
• Onarr - Also Haldurssens man, able smith too.
• Thyngall Pedersen - Tracker/ranger, head of navigation
• Hornbori - Paid muscle
• Faerhar Bogomoloff - Beast of burden and a workman
• Abigail Bousson - Priestess of Valkur that Haldurssen personally requested to take part.

And of course our heroes, Bolwyn, Thelon, Orgot and Posco who were hired by Crowgale to provide muscle, security, dirty jobs and general adventuring. This group of fourteen was to defy the dangers of the uncharted north. 

Few days later our laborers paid a visit to the office of merchant Jando. Final arrangements for the delivery were agreed upon and while they were idle, Karakas offered a small task at the wharves. His warehouse number four had been apparently overrun by "ghosts" or so the dockers and teamsters say. As they had nothing better in their hands, the adventurers promised to investigate this dilemma. Jando hinted that the dockworkers had been spending awful a lot of time at the Cutlass recently.  

Above mentioned group of slackers were at the Cutlass as Karakas had foretold. They were reluctant to come with the heroes but one of them finally gave up and agreed to show them the fourth warehouse. The wharves were a gloomy place even during a day, and the perimeter around the warehouse in question was exceptionally bad. The dockworker refused to go nearer so the lads had to continue alone for the door. But an eerie and ghastly sound interrupted them. This wailing seemed to originate from a nearby crate, and inside this wooden hideout, a small wretch of a man was found. The little thug sobbed that his boss, Mantor had forced him to mimic ghosts and spooks to scare off unwanted visitors.

Encouraged by this earthly explanation for ghostly sounds, they stormed in and found out that gang of

Artists careful demonstration how two bears, uniting their strenght
could easily best a damsel (who now on is in serious distress) 

criminals had turned the building into a animal cage fight center. At the time being, there were two ferocious bears battling against each other, with two dozen men cheering and placing bets outside the cage. Mantor, the organizer and kingpin behind the show tried his best to fend off the intruders, but ended up being eaten alive by his own pet-ursidae, and boy did those two battle bears feast on his meat. The warehouse was quickly purified from gamblers and hostile animals, although those two bears were dangerous to calm.

Jando Karakas was glad that the issue with the warehouse was solved once and for all, and promised a small surprise bonus among the goods he was to deliver for Saltskins ship later during the passing week. And so the time passed and finally the day of departure arrived. Luskan bathed in the light of dawn as last crates, barrels and sacks of supplies were hauled into the cargo hold of the Virgin Ingrid, Captain Saltskins trusty ship.

Few numbered group of family and relatives were waving their goodbyes to the sailors and expedition members, sobbing farewells as everyone knew that death was waiting for some, if not everyone, and the hope for loved ones safe return was thin at best. It was 12th of Flamerule, when Virgin Ingrid departed from the relative safety of Luskans harbor. All the necessary preparations were done, and the men let their lives in the hands of their faith or fate. As the seagulls sung their farewells, the ship float to the open.

Even captain Saltskin doubted on what he had agreed upon
There was not a single soul that didn't have a seed of doubt in it, because from now on, they all would be on a collision course with the unknown, whatever it would be. 

Their destinies were out there, where even the gods wouldn't serve as witnesses. 

Chapter One: Compass to the North-Encounters at the City of Sails - Part I

Session was held 24th - 26th of August at the Hidden Cabin of Shadowlands

"I am the last,

so may the Gods hear my testimony.

It really does exist,

the legends are true.

Oh how I wish they would not be."

Sword Coast North

The day was Fourth of June 1372 after the Dale Reckoning. Summers first breaths were spreading across the north, and the spring drizzle was reviving the flora in this harsh land that is known as the Sword Coast North. There, in the independent port city of Luskan, two companions walked through the muddy streets filled with cutthroats that were ready to loot the last remaining coins from the cold corpse of the unwary. The two found their way into notorious tavern known as the Cutlass. There with fresh pints in their hands,  the weary travelers had the opportunity to witness a curious performance. The whole tavern ceased it's ever-continuing brawl only to hear the story told by man known as Enoch Crowgale. 

That will be me, my dear reader.

"For those who I haven't met before, may I present myself, the name is Enoch Crowgale. I came here tonight to tell you about a myth that I reckon to be the myth of Ultima Thule, but which many know as the Land of Eternal Light. This place of legend has been called since the Dawn of Toril as Thaczil Di Ro Kear by the Great Ancient Wyrms, while the elves who once strolled these northern lands knew it as Myth Cor'Cirith. So did the dwarves in their deep mines beneath the majestic mountains, Ankor A Bryngrom was the name of the myth and Migdhal Wyrdrazh was the great outpost that stood there. Even the foul creatures who lurked in the mountains above the dwarven strongholds had the name Uzg ob Gith-Drautas reappearing time after time in their crude orc sagas.You known that you have heard from it in the disguise of the familiar medley sung by skalds from the campfires to Halls of the Kings:

Enoch Crowgale 

North - From the Kingdoms of Men,
North- From the Great Dwarven Halls.
North - From where the Elves have strode,
North- From the Last Giant Throne.

Beyond - The Gods and their might,
Beyond - The Great  White Glacier.
There lies the Land of Eternal Light,
Now, always and never.

As I have hastily proven, this miraculous land walks with us regardless the race or culture. It's ethereal promises of power and riches untold have aroused many for searches in vain, and thus it has been said that no one has ever seen nor witnessed it's glory. They say it is only a myth. But I am to prove them wrong as I know what they didn't know. I know the man who saw it and returned and I have the compass to guide me there, and few of you may reach it in my company. So those intrigued by my words, join me later this evening at the third booth for wine and chatter, and maybe we are able to negotiate the terms for our journey together!"

And thus the sage ended his short performance and the crowd was left pondering his words. But soon the patrons burst into laughter, trying to outwit each other with mocking rants about Crowgale and his ill-famed journey of regulating  food rations from Luskan to Neverwinter. As the troubadour resumed to his play, the two companions began to peer for the third booth, and soon mister Crowgale appeared there with a full jug of wine. Quickly after he had sat down, four men approached the booth. These four were the men that we would soon learn to known as the Adventurers.

First sat the two companions.
First one was a young shield dwarf fighter Bolwyn Flameblade from the Citadel of Adbarr,
and his companion was a orc cleric Orgot Shatargat-thrak from Clan Ironjaws of eastern Spine of the World mountains. An odd couple indeed.
After them came a small man from the Western Heartlands, Posco Pepper, a halfling.
And after him came his friend, an elf from the distant realms that still possesses the splendor of yesterday, Thelon Celtharion of Evermeet.
These four quite different men were the only ones to show genuine interest for Crowgales speech, and thus they were just a glimpse away from the begin of the greatest adventure of their lifetime.

Bolwyn Flamblade, Thelon Celtharion, Orgot Shatargat-thrak, Posco Pepper

Crowgale explained his plans briefly, not giving away too much information just yet, as he could not be sure about the motives of the four. He had planned recruiting some sort of mercenaries for the solid core of his expedition to the Ultima Thule, and the four men interested about his speech would suite just well, if only they'd be willing. He promised them great adventures and possibly great wealth split in fifth-shares, but only after good night of sleep, as tomorrow he would reveal more.
The four mercenaries were quite enthusiastic about Crowgales expedition plans, and they promised to escort him to his apartment, while he would show them the Seven Sails-inn on the way.

But Luskan showed it's danger just outside the Cutlass, as two thugs were to mug Crowgale and his new companions. Rat-Zim and Spikefist demanded Enoch to hand over his compass that he had shown earlier at the tavern. Crowgale was willing to cope, but the four mercenaries prepared a show-off of their skills. After a split second of high speed action, Spikefist sat crying for his shattered guts, and Rat-Zim lied on the muddy street with his left eye punctured, shaking in a neurological shock. The adventurers had a promising start.

Later that evening the heroes arrived to Seven Sails inn, where the innkeeper Vegar Rosolov offered his quality, although ridiculously overpriced, services. After the good night of sleep granted with exclusive right of Arcane Brotherhood, the heroes gathered around a marine breakfast which was plentiful. For the record, that was the first time Bolwyn and Orgot tasted seafood.

Valgaerd Last Poem
(slightly modified
Dream-Land by
Edgar Allan Poe)

As the morning grew to forenoon, four men who had slowly found a common tongue among themselves, gathered at Crowgales apartment. It was filled with books and strange gadgets with geography and measurement importance. He also had a full shelf of compasses, a curious wit of a somewhat possessed mind. Now as everyone was still interested about his great expedition after a night of sleep, he began adding details.

Crowgale explained that he believed that man known as Valgaerd the Whitefarer managed to reach the Ultima Thule and return from it. As a partial evidence he presented the adventurers a short poem penned on the death bed of no one else than the Whitefarer himself. In addition to this he had confirmed from several sources that Valgaerd had kept a journal or log about his adventure beyond the glaciers. None had ever witnessed it so it was merely a legend as the whole Thule adventure itself. But Crowgale had a hunch about the log, as he had managed to dig up information that Valgaerd had been buried with some sorts of documents. And thus, our newly formed adventure team received their first quest for plundering the tomb of Valgaerd.
Crowgale reckoned that the nordman was buried on the island of Icepeak, that was few hundred miles northwest from Luskan. Crowgale administrated the heroes to acquire a vessel of transportation from the piers of Luskan, and he preferred to depart tomorrow morning. And so they left to the Luskan Piers in search for a suitable ship to Icepeak island.

Old man Martinus - the tanner

The harbor of Luskan was known as the Piers and it was located on the Dragon Beach, southern one of the many sand strands of the mouth of River Mirar.   The piers were full of sailors and lowlifes seeking to gain advantage from one's misery, but with determination our four sell-swords tracked down a harbor clerk called Garald Karenin, who was able to pinpoint a suitable ship for their desires. Withering Wench was the name of the ship and Herrod the Herring was its captain. Walking past ships macabre figurehead (mummified old woman in a red dress) sure gave them shrivels but the old caravel seemed otherwise quite seaworthy. Captain Herring (who got his epithet from being successful on fishing the northern Sword Sea herrings into extinction) accepted the travelers into his ship that would depart next morning, but he asked them to perform a small task in favor.

Ships First Mate Jónsi explained that he would need the four braves to help him carry some leathers and hides from a local tannery. The four companions agreed to help although they felt their skills weren't in a good use doing such dull labor. Later that evening after spending the day goofing at the marketplace, our heroes returned to the piers, where Jónsi had just launched a small whaleboat from Wenches stern. Rowing they went towards the sunset and after mile or two of following the coastline to south, when they docked into a old pier that belonged to the tannery of Martinus. Stench was foul as they struggled out of the boat, while Jónsi sneaked closer to the tannery waving a small but fierce club in his hand. At this point the mercenaries understood they were heading towards a brawl. And with a quick move, Jónsi stormed inside the tannery, shouting Captains greetings for the treacherous tanner Martinus.

The scuffle was bloody, leaving Martinus incapacitated, maiming his wife and killing their son. Martinus had positioned a local mercenary on his front door, but the backdoor assault forced the sell-sword to surrender quickly. The hides were quickly carried back to the launch, and our mercenaries rowed into the nightly mist.

Later on, as they returned to Luskan with all the leathery plunder, Jónsi explained that brutal actions were necessary as Martinus had declined to pay up his debts earlier this day. And so our newly weds returned to the Seven Sails Inn and slept few hours only to return to the piers at the dawn with mister Crowgale, who was excited to see his age-old dream finally coming into life. Their success at the icepeak would determine whether or not the expedition would be formed.  And so  the Withering Wench departed towards Aurilsbarg, the "capital" of the Icepeak, and our new heroes began their first real quest together.

The Withering Wench leaving Luskan at dawn.

End of Part One