Post by Varis/G'Lorth/Sundilar on Feb 7, 2018 19:58:46 GMT
Excerpt from the Journal of Varis Nailo
7th day of Alturiak
Another plea for aid from the mayor of the settlement. An emmisary of the Firbolg village in the southern woods had disappeared. I joined with a group of new arrivals - Kerry, one of the fair folk, my fathers kin, and Thokk, an orkish magic weilder of dubious intent. The dwarf, Doom Bah, joined us after some grumbling about church funds. In spite of my better judgement, I find myself warming to the irascible old god botherer. He is proof that perhaps the path of faith need not be as rigid and joyless as my masters in the Order would have me believe.
We set off south, passing the former location of "Granny's" hut. The old witch seems to have vanished completely, her shack seeming to have been lifted whole from the ground and carried away as if some god or giant had scooped it from the earth. I suspect this will not be the last we see of her - I doubt the crone dies easily, and it seemed from the gardens and greenhouse that she carried much of her stock with her when she vanished.
I led us through the forest without incident, coming at last on the Firbolg village, and finding it utterly deserted. Kerry discovered some writing scrawled on the wall of one of the huts, but none of us could decipher it's meaning. The inhabitants seemed to have left in two groups - the old, young and infirm to the south and a smaller group of adults to the north. Deciding that whatever had prompted their departure was best confronted head on, we followed the tracks to the north.
As we proceded, we began to notice a strange corruption marking the forest, and it was not long before we came upon a creature of the Fey, a pixie named Mop Top, who was weeping over the corpses of his comrades, some slain and others abducted by a shadowy horned creature that cackled as it carried them off. Doom Bah and I burried the dead, and Mop Top accompanied us further into the woods in search of his missing friends.
We camped that night beneath the trees. This land is strange to me, and yet I cannot help feeling a sense of belonging here, far greater than the supposed brotherhood of the Order. When the sun rose, we set off again, soon finding ourselves deep within the Fey-Wilds. Here too the forest was stained with some corruption, though what its source was we could not say. Resting for a moment upon an island, we were snared in a hanging net, and finally found our quary. Fjell, wild and half crazed, seemed poised to attack, though when we made clear our intentions he relaxed a little. He had been wandering the Fey-Wild for months, his friends slowly picked off by an unseen foe who mocked him with shadows and laughter. We agreed to help him find this threat, and set our camp, hoping to lure the creature to us.
Sure enough, an hour or so into first watch, a wizened, green scaled creature appeared, brazenly approaching the camp and stating when questioned that she knew the location of the missing Firbolgs and pixies - in her "Veinyard". Doom Bah lost patience and attacked the hag, but no sooner had I charged in and struck her with my maul than she vanished. We set camp and waited till morning to pursue the vile creature.
After an uneventful night, we easily followed her tracks deeper into the swamp, finding her hut set amongst a macarbe orchard - the missing Firbolg tribesmen strung up and drained of the vital fluids. Thokk, ignoring our pleas for stealth, bellowed a challenge to the old crone, who emerged from her hut and attacked us. After a brief but vicious struggle, I crushed the hags skull, and we managed to pull some gemstones from the clutter of her hovel.
I feel we did some good this day, yet my questions of faith remain. I wish no part of service to a god who allows such evil to exist. The longer I spend here in The Expanse, the more I come to believe that all we can depend upon is our own strength of arms. But enough of that - my dwarven friend calls to me, and there is ale to be had this night.
7th day of Alturiak
Another plea for aid from the mayor of the settlement. An emmisary of the Firbolg village in the southern woods had disappeared. I joined with a group of new arrivals - Kerry, one of the fair folk, my fathers kin, and Thokk, an orkish magic weilder of dubious intent. The dwarf, Doom Bah, joined us after some grumbling about church funds. In spite of my better judgement, I find myself warming to the irascible old god botherer. He is proof that perhaps the path of faith need not be as rigid and joyless as my masters in the Order would have me believe.
We set off south, passing the former location of "Granny's" hut. The old witch seems to have vanished completely, her shack seeming to have been lifted whole from the ground and carried away as if some god or giant had scooped it from the earth. I suspect this will not be the last we see of her - I doubt the crone dies easily, and it seemed from the gardens and greenhouse that she carried much of her stock with her when she vanished.
I led us through the forest without incident, coming at last on the Firbolg village, and finding it utterly deserted. Kerry discovered some writing scrawled on the wall of one of the huts, but none of us could decipher it's meaning. The inhabitants seemed to have left in two groups - the old, young and infirm to the south and a smaller group of adults to the north. Deciding that whatever had prompted their departure was best confronted head on, we followed the tracks to the north.
As we proceded, we began to notice a strange corruption marking the forest, and it was not long before we came upon a creature of the Fey, a pixie named Mop Top, who was weeping over the corpses of his comrades, some slain and others abducted by a shadowy horned creature that cackled as it carried them off. Doom Bah and I burried the dead, and Mop Top accompanied us further into the woods in search of his missing friends.
We camped that night beneath the trees. This land is strange to me, and yet I cannot help feeling a sense of belonging here, far greater than the supposed brotherhood of the Order. When the sun rose, we set off again, soon finding ourselves deep within the Fey-Wilds. Here too the forest was stained with some corruption, though what its source was we could not say. Resting for a moment upon an island, we were snared in a hanging net, and finally found our quary. Fjell, wild and half crazed, seemed poised to attack, though when we made clear our intentions he relaxed a little. He had been wandering the Fey-Wild for months, his friends slowly picked off by an unseen foe who mocked him with shadows and laughter. We agreed to help him find this threat, and set our camp, hoping to lure the creature to us.
Sure enough, an hour or so into first watch, a wizened, green scaled creature appeared, brazenly approaching the camp and stating when questioned that she knew the location of the missing Firbolgs and pixies - in her "Veinyard". Doom Bah lost patience and attacked the hag, but no sooner had I charged in and struck her with my maul than she vanished. We set camp and waited till morning to pursue the vile creature.
After an uneventful night, we easily followed her tracks deeper into the swamp, finding her hut set amongst a macarbe orchard - the missing Firbolg tribesmen strung up and drained of the vital fluids. Thokk, ignoring our pleas for stealth, bellowed a challenge to the old crone, who emerged from her hut and attacked us. After a brief but vicious struggle, I crushed the hags skull, and we managed to pull some gemstones from the clutter of her hovel.
I feel we did some good this day, yet my questions of faith remain. I wish no part of service to a god who allows such evil to exist. The longer I spend here in The Expanse, the more I come to believe that all we can depend upon is our own strength of arms. But enough of that - my dwarven friend calls to me, and there is ale to be had this night.