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...

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 Three: Wretches Who Stride Towards Their Doom - Part I

Session was held 16th of February at the Skyhouse of Slumber

"This event often recurs in my dreams. We're travelling through the abandoned mining shafts of Karak-Mons, as they are a valuable shortcut on our way. But out of the blue, these vile creatures assaulted our expedition. How did I not smell their hideous stench nor did I hear their stomping feet and the earth below that cried for every filthy step, 

as they progressed towards us with murder in their minds.

They stroke me apart from my comrades, or was it the fury and ecstasy of the battle that made me forget my place among the ranks. I crack a skull or two, when a new band of enemies push against me. Soon I am trapped under half a dozen hostile mongrels that try to tear me apart, one half-breed on top shouting its mongrel speech, perhaps chanting me as a sacrifice for their murderous and imbecile gods. I bend my head to shout for my comrades for aid, but I see how my fellow Bordfol swings his heavy hammer against one of the supporting wooden pillars of the shaft. 

This... This part of the dream is new to me, I haven't seen it before. Have I forgotten it? At the side of my fellows I see my leader, revered captain Gomerus. But I see no burden of sacrifice in his eyes as they're leaving me behind. No. 

All I see is that he wanted to get rid of me!

Bordfols hammer strikes again and the pillar creaks and the ceiling of the shaft collapses."

-Bolwyn Flameblade from the Clan Mithralheart

"Morning lads!" Nespil Crowgale shouts as he kicks the headboards of our mercenaries beds. Weary travelers had just returned from their scouting mission but now Enoch needs them to further plan their soon upcoming expedition to the north. Loaves of bread in their arms, our sleepy adventurers hustled through the city streets. Summer breeze had finally reached Luskan and life there finally seemed somewhat bearable.

Revealing more than a corner from Valgaerds logbook could cause
some to try an ill-fated expedition by themselves, which would be bad.

Old Crowgale stated that study of the log of Valgaerd the Whitefarer was finally complete and he had made out a destination to pursuit. One of the final phrases of the log implied that they should set their course towards the Ice Wind Pass, one of the northernmost parts of Ice Wind Dale. The phrase goes as following:

"The frozen tree of Ice Wind Pass, where men hang like apples in the ice-carved branches. The apple rosy-cheeked, the Captain alas, he guides your way"

So now as the destination is somewhat clear, it is only a question of how and by who's money. As Enoch had explained earlier, old luskanese lord Konrad Haldurssen was interested in becoming a patron for their expedition, and Enoch was to go and discuss the details of their contract further. Meanwhile, he was still confident that the shortest route to Ice Wind Dale would be by a vessel. The Sea of Moving Ice was rumored to be almost ice-free and Crowgale it was a risk worth taking. Thus he ordered our braves to conduct yet again a short trip to the wharves in order to find a suitable ship and a willing captain to take the expedition through the icy perils of north.

A moment later our lads found themselves from the piers of Luskan. They went for several ships in order to find a captain daring enough to take the risk. Captain Huhtamath from the vessel The Ancient was sceptical about the safety and turned the offer down. Old and rugged ship called Calypsos Cunt had no captain at all as the poor devil hanged from the mast with his first mate due a successful mutiny. Fisherman called Gunnar offered to row them to north with his small fishing boat but our heroes had to turn down the generous offer. Finally the stepped on the the deck of Virgin Ingrid, a sturdy three-masted craft. It's captain was Agmuind Saltskin, a seasoned seawolf with a notorious urge to gamble. He promised to consider their request and even gambled few rounds of Six-Eyed-Spider with our heroes. It is a popular game in the north and here are the rules:

SIX-EYED-SPIDER

• Both players take five six-sided dice. 6 is what you go for as it is the spider that scores a round for you. Both players also nominate one number from 1-5 to be the squasher.

• Then they cast the dice. Both of them count their possible spiders. That whom has more spiders scores a bite for that round. Usually the game is played to 1-3-5 or 10 bites, and that who first reaches that amount wins the game. 

• However, you can "kill" your opponents spiders with your squasher. Let us say that your squasher is number three. 

• You throw 1-1-3-4-6, that be one spider and one squasher.

• Your opponent throws 2-2-4-5-6, that be one spider and no squashers (his squasher was number one)

• Now the round would be a draw as both has equal number of spiders, but as your squasher eliminates your opponents only spider, you win a bite.

• So with luck you could defend yourself against opponents spiders with sufficient amount of squashers even though you'd have no spiders yourself. And in all its simplicity that's about it.

 Our mercenary ship-buyers almost managed double the price for Saltskins seafaring services with few bad rounds but luckily Bolwyn had a wrist of steel and due his efforts they managed to get on the dry.

Deaths constant menace over the
expedition preparations

With the initial contract for a ship, our lads returned to Enoch to inform him about their findings. Crowgale himself had just finished his meeting with Lord Haldurssen, the patron of the expedition. He had mixed news. The good were that Haldurssen was ready to invest 10,000gp to the funding of the voyage, but the bad news were that he wanted to attend the expedition too for reasons unknown. With him about half dozen men. Crowgale was powerless to change his head, and our heroes just had to accept that with the money comes this old geezer in bad health.

Enoch assigned a new task for our heroes. They were to devise an inventory for all the equipment needed in the far north, as chances for receiving any supplies up there were close to zero. Specific quantities of specific items would be examined later as the full party size is confirmed. He also wished that during the next few days the boys would confirm Agmuind Saltskins offer as for the fee. And so, rest of the day was spend at the Seven Sails figuring all the little things that could become handy when the expedition gets real.

Morning came and the sweet scents of summer. These odors were soon forgotten as the lads visited the piers once again in order to hear Saltskins offer. Virgin Ingrids first mate Wyllard the Crab had ill news. Captain Agmuind had gone missing during the night. He had gone to the Cutlass for drink and gamble, but was not seen coming back. Disappearing was against his habits and Wyllard had already send men to find him, who had came back empty handed. Frustrated by  this set-back, our mercenaries agreed to take a run for Agmuind, and to the Cutlass they went.

Quick information gathering at the tavern revealed that man called Artono knew something about the captain. Artono was sitting at a table with his two associates, familiar swashbuckler Windmill-Hacó and perhaps Luskans most notorious mercenary Quorthon the Grim. The lads were not intimidated by Artonos company and questioned him. He had indeed witnessed Agmuind Saltskins game of chance. Few bad casts and foul words had led the captain to some serious trouble with underworld entities. Crimelord known as the Hellmaker, had enough with Saltskins drunken clamor and send him to the Underkeel, perilous realm under the Luskan sewers.

Schnektol and arms-full of something precious.

Captains fate seemed as a sealed one but our brave sell-swords decided he was worth a try. The Cutlass provided it's services once again as it happened to be the current lodging for Luskans official sewer-rat, old timer known as Ulluf Utan. Mister Utan was a toothless geezer covered in grime and filth, but he was helpful nevertheless. He warned our heroes that the Underkeel was the most hostile and vile section of the old tunnels and caverns that the luskanese addressed as sewers.

No time was spend to irrelevant queries and our search-party rushed towards the entrance that led to the sewer section that was in question. As Ulluf Utan led them farther to the rotten depths, a voice whispered for help. As they scouted for its source, a severely maimed and crippled man was found, lying next to his dead mate that was already a cadaver. When suddenly a pack of rats burst out of the mans belly. It soon began quite obvious that it was not a mere peck of rats, it was a whole swarm of pests that your heroes had to fend off. Dozens of nasty bites later they were able to push deeper to the sewers, except that their guide, mister Utan, had escaped as he saw the swarm. So now our heroes were all by themselves.

The upper sewers soon came to and end, but a small trapdoor led our explorers into lower levels. They had just descended to the Underkeel when a strange little man told them to beat it. Man was called Schnektol Dungstone, he was a svirfneblin, deep gnome, digging and looting for booty. Schnektol knew Hellmaker and the location of his criminal nest. Little fellow promised to guide our lads there, and soon they reached an old door near a pond of sewage. Schnektol explained that it was the entrance to the Forecourt, Hellmakers stronghold. The deep gnome stayed hidden in the background as our heroes closed in with the entrance. The door was locked fast, and Posco began lockpicking it with his nimble hands.

But the pool possessed a menace. A pack of scaly men known as the lizardfolk that had been assigned to guard the entrance assaulted our heroes. Their clubs and javelins hit fast and hard, but Tymora was on our adventurers side that day, as they managed to slay those wretched back-assaulting geckos. But the battle had taken its toll, none of them was in a condition well enough that they could raid the Forecourt and face Hellmaker in order to free captain Agmuind. If he was even alive anymore.

Thus they had to return to the surface for a rest, 

and hope that Agmuind Saltskin would withstand one more day

 in the forgotten bowels of the City of Seven Sails....