Conquering the Barbarian Altanis: Session 112
Adventurers
| Character | Class | Description |
|---|---|---|
| Gomm | Thief level 5 | Swarthy, good looking, dark-skinned thief. Sweet opium-like aroma is his fragrance of choice. |
| Zhoron Trisrie | Elf level 2 | Always frowning and morose; sporting thick handlebar moustache down to his chest and a black top knot. |
| Ajar of the Plan | Dwarf level 2 | Unbelievably strong and dexterous dwarf. |
| Balarus | Fighter level 1 | An ex-woodsman, quite a crackshot with his bow. |
| Ambros | Cleric level 5 | Follower of Aniu, Lord of Time. |
| Ignaeus | Elf level 2 | A slightly weathered looking elf with dull blonde hair and chiselled features. Seeks wealth and knowledge. |
Thistleburn 1st, Airday
It has been several weeks since Ambros had returned to Hara. Others tried to turn Hagar's demise into a spectacle for the masses. Cleric of Aniu had no such interests and he protected his friend's legacy as much as he could.
The dwarf was set off on a funeral barge fitting his heroic status. The pyre was magnificent and it burnt strong, well into the night. Several acolytes of Poseidon accompanied Ambros through Hara, paying their respects to the passing dwarf as well. Their temple was of course well endowed with gifts, arranged by Ambros as well.
Hara was still in turmoil, now even bigger than before. The rumour has it Tagoler refused to be Imrael's candidate for the new castellan, while Namelin failed to propose anyone new, given their prime candidate, Hagar, had just died. Thirteen merchant families could not agree on any future course of action, so Red Queen ordained they must present three prospects by end of summer or she will pick a new castellan herself.
Little did that matter to Ambros though. A heavy burden was upon him. When Hagar died on one of his dungeon expeditions, Ambros managed to negotiate his resurrection at the Temple of Poseidon. Hight Priestess Mavis demanded a high price. Hagar, as well as all adventurers with him at the time, had to accept three geases.
First, to set a wrongfully imprisoned king free, they accomplished. Second, to erect an impressive statue of Poseidon looking at the sea, was in progress. And third, to travel to Ketche and help Mavis's sister with anything she demands, has not even been started. Ambros was now the sole living survivor of all those adventurers.
Geases were now his to bear alone.
Gomm, a firebrand and rising star the the local thieves' guild, has already been planning his next expedition when he heard of the cleric's woes.
“Ketche, you say?”
Thistleburn 5th, Spiritday
“See? Didn't I promise I'd bring ya here!”
Drunk fishermen they employed at Ahyf had indeed brought the party to Ketche. Even just yesterday such feat seemed unlikely! At Hara Gomm couldn't learn much useful information beyond Ketche being secluded hamlet in the Eyestones Jungle, overlooking the Vigil Sound bay. Rumours of pirates did not make it any more attractive.
Fishermen of Ahyf were more informative, but not more encouraging. They confirmed the stories of pirates, in addition to recent spotting of Skandik longships around the Cape of No-Return. Apparently no one had come from Ketche to Ahyf for several months. But adventurers managed to recruit a drunk fisherman and his two friends to ferry them over.
Price?
Astonishing twenty eight gold pieces.
The sails were lowered and now they were slowly coasting towards the sequestered hamlet. In the center of this small settlement stood a forty-foot tall, bronze-roofed bell tower. That was the Church of the Ever-Shining Sun, undoubtedly a place where Mavis's sister must be.
Given that the day was almost done, the party opted to go to the Goat's Beard Inn first. There they delighted the proprietor, dwarf Rumbough, for booking the whole place for the week. Rumbough promised to throw a feast for the dinner: a dockside dinning with freshly steamed crayfish and jungle ale.
Finally, Ambros and the crew opted to hit the church, seeking its priestess. There they found Jeffar, a short, stocky woman with a great mane of curly gray hair. Her demeanor was cold and derisive. Her contempt of adventurers and mercenaries was palpable. With a little bit of Gomm's silver tongue, Ambros managed to persuade her that they are here to help indeed, on a divine geas from Poseidon.
Finding a win-win-win situation for herself, Jeffar asked the party to dispose of troll that had recently butchered a family of farmers just south of Ketche. If the troll dies, she is happy. If the adventurers die, she is happy. And of both side die while killing each other, she is happy too.
Thistleburn 7th, Waterday
The party decided to sail along the coast southwards and then disembarked into the jungle and went forth. After two days of trawling through the thick, Balarus spotted a trail leading to the farming compound.
The compound was some hundred by seventy yards, surrounded by tall wooden fence acting as palisades. In it was one large wooden building, obviously meant to house at least three families, two barns with pens, and one thirty foot tall wooden tower.
Spending few hours to investigate the farm confirmed that some violence took place here. The gates to the compound were broken open. All windows on the farmhouse had been broken, as well as the furniture inside. Dried blood splatters were in nearly all the rooms. Interestingly enough, both pens still had animals: pigs. They were blissfully rolling in mud.
Following a lively discussion, the party had decided to prepare an ambush and wait for the troll to return. They theorised that he must be coming back for the pigs.
Ignaeus and Zhoron manned the tower. As elves they would not need torchlight to see if someone enters the compound or not. Rest of the party hid in the farmhouse, ready to pour out and beat on anyone who walks into the trap. But primarily to set the troll on fire.
Thistleburn 8th, Earthday
“Do you hear that?”
Elven duo could hear joyful whistling sounds incoming. Laying low, they focused on the gates. Humanoid figure, taller than an elf but shorter than a human, strolled through confidently. It hummed a happy tune and went straight for the closest pig pen.
“Stop! Who goes there!”
The figure jumped, startled. It turned around, axe in hand. Then it barked “Show yourself!” in orcish.
“What are you doing here!”
“I came to check in on the piggies. Where are you?! Show yourself!”
The elves unleashed arrows.
They missed.
Ajar shot his crossbow.
He missed.
Humans lit a torch and ran out of the farmhouse.
The orc farted and ran away.
“Damn! We had a plan...” Gomm lamented.
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