A Journeyman’s Tale,
Exploring Birch Vale
Part 1 – 5th August 2021
Characters
Bori Ironhelm
Bori respects the strength and wisdom of the forge, channeling the power of his ancestors through his fine metalwork. There is a satisfaction in producing a strong and simple-looking piece of armour or a weapon - something that elves, and sometimes humans, misunderstand. They spend too much time on ornamentation and frippery, forgetting the steel at the heart of the forging. Without the strong foundation, the fancy ornamentation is for nought. Bori has laboured to learn the artistry in forming beautiful arms and armour that are highly functional and have a deceptively simple form. Any ornamentation he adds serves more purpose than just self-indulgent preening.
Bori is strong and wise after spending much time focused at his forge - a form of meditation for him, time when he can forget about events outside the forge and work in quiet contemplation. He seldom talks for long, being used to his own company. When he does speak, his deep tones are more kind than his exterior would imply. He cares deeply for his companions and seeks to protect them at all times.
This is why he left the forge at Khazad Dwemer and headed onto the road with his cousin, Grimnir. Though he had disgraced their clan, Bori couldn't help but feel that he needed to help him reclaim his honour. They agreed that the best option to make their way in the world outside of the clan's hold was to enrol in the Journeyman programme with the Explorer's Guild. The two dwarfs were able to lie about their age to get enrolled - humans aren't even good at guessing a dwarf's gender beneath their beards, so have little idea about their age. Though they are young by dwarf standards, their previous experience with the clan set them apart from their Journeyman peers.
Out in the world, Bori has found that coin can be more easily acquired through fashioning jewellery for wealthy customers. Though it lacks the purity of the proper forge, he is an accomplished jeweller with an eye for geometric patterns that are pleasing to others. He already has contacts in the Guild of Artisans that will offer him employment at the completion of his Journeyman programme.
Grimnir Craghammer
The best response to expect when asking Grimnir about his past is for the gruff dwarf to grunt in annoyance and continue quaffing his ale; at worst, particularly if he's had a few kegs or if you are stopping him from getting to the bar, he might hit you with one of his huge, stone-hard fists.
A safer way to understand something about this strange-looking dwarf with the bright orange hair, stuck up with animal fat, is to talk to his cousin, Bori Ironhelm. Both dwarfs left their home in Khazad Dwemer some years ago and have joined the Journeyman programme of the Explorer's Guild in an attempt to make their way in the world outside of the dwarf hold.
Grimnir himself did something that was considered unacceptable to the rest of the dwarf clan, though neither he nor Bori will say what it was. Needless to say, it was a severe stain to his honour, and so he took an oath to seek his doom to avoid losing his dwarf name entirely. Grimnir is a follower of Clangeddin, and as that dwarven god of battle said, "War is the finest hour of dwarvenkind". By exiling himself from the hold and seeking out the toughest monsters to battle, Grimnir hopes to one day either defeat an enemy so tough that he can return to his clan with his honour intact, or he will die in the attempt and have the bards sing songs of his epic doom.
Accompanied by his cousin Bori, who felt that he deserved a
friendly companion in his doomseeking quest, Grimnir seeks the scariest
monsters and deadliest foes. Bori's plan to enroll them into the Explorer's
Guild turned out to be very sensible as it provided a legitimate way for the
pair to earn coin to pay for the large quantities of ale that Grimnir drinks to
drown his sorrows, plus they often know where the worst beasts are to be found,
giving Girmnir more opportunity to seek his doom in glorious combat.
Merla Goodberry
When Bori Ironhelm and Grimnir Craghammer joined the Explorer's Guild as Journeymen, it was clear that the pair were inseperable. It was also clear that they required someone in their party who was adept at scouting terrain and could provide a more friendly face for their dealings with contacts and potential clients. Cue Merla Goodberry, an affable and friendly halfling with an instinctive talent for scouting and a close affinity with nature. The masters of the Guild decided she would be a good fit for the group and she has turned out to be a great asset to the trio.
Merla was born at Nettledown Farm in the halfling village of Sweetleaf Hollow where it became quickly apparent to her parents that she wasn't well suited to the occupation of a small-town farmer. All her life, Merla looked away to the future, to the horizon. She was seeking something that she couldn't find in village life. It was agreed that she would leave and join the Explorers Guild, for as long as she successfully completed the Journeyman programme then her prospects of gainful employment were positive.
As with most halflings, Merla has a natural tendency for
stealth and an uncanny ability to hide. Combined with her nimble fingers, this
would make her a natural thief, if her morals would allow it. She does have an
eye for shiny objects, however, and often has to suppress the urge to take
things that don't belong to her. She has turned her stealthy talents towards a
more noble goal under the tutelage of the masters at the Explorer's Guild,
becoming well versed in scouting techniques. Learning from senior rangers at
the guild, she has even dedicated herself to Mielikki, Goddess of Nature,
though she lacks the build and skills to be a fully-fledged ranger. Merla
relies on her wits and good humour to see her through most situations, but when
it is called for she has a sharp eye and won't hesitate to loose off a few
well-aimed arrows at her enemies.
Chapter 1 – Breakfast at the Briar Rose
Three Journeyman members of the Explorer’s Guild have been sent to explore the area around Birch Vale and provide assistance where necessary.
Four foresters have been out in the wilderness, gathering birch sap (which is used to brew some excellent booze in the town), but they are late returning home, so they missed the festivities of the previous night. Cydor, a priest of Chauntea, has tasked the Journeymen with investigating the last known whereabouts of the four foresters and reporting back within 24 hours. Hopefully they are just lost in the woods, but it is unusual for this sort of thing to happen so the town elder, Bjorn, is particularly concerned.
The three Journeymen know one another and have been training
together in the Explorer’s Guild. They are Bori Ironhelm, a dwarf cleric of the
forge; Grimnir Craghammer, Bori’s cousin and a barbarian berserker; and Merla
Goodberry, a halfling rogue specialising in scouting and the wilderness.
Together, they have set out on the road to find out what has happened to the
birch sap and the foresters that were sent to gather it. Their primary goal is
to find out what befell the foresters and return within 24 hours. They’ll be
required to report anything of note to Cydor and, should further investigation
be required, this can be looked at later.
Clear on their objectives, the three companions leave the Briar Rose pub (after a fantastic hangover-busting breakfast) and set out to be heroic.
The journal of Bori Ironhelm,
cleric of Moradin and master of the forge.
Journeyman in the Explorer’s
Guild.
Day one – noon
We received our orders from Cydor and departed Birch Vale as
soon as we had finished eating. My head was pounding like a hammer on an anvil,
and I know for a fact I hadn’t drunk nearly as much as Grimnir – but that old
slab of granite didn’t even look like he had missed any sleep, and he still had
a couple of tankards with his breakfast. Animal!
Cydor informed us that there were no horses, carts, mules or
other transportation available, so the 12-or-so mile journey would be entirely
under our own steam. Not something that we dwarfs are naturally inclined to
(we’re dangerous over short distances), but having had substantial training
with the Guild, my cousin and I were up to the task. We knew that our halfling
companion would keep up with us, despite her short stature. Merla was
surprisingly at home in the wildlands, with an almost ranger-like disposition.
She had proven to be an asset, as well as being good company, in the past and I
was confident she would do so again.
It took us about three hours to reach the last expected
location of the four lost foresters, with nothing of note happening on the
road. Merla kept her keen ears and eyes open and scanning the terrain for
threats, while I found my head clearing from the fog of drink by the time we
arrived at the camp site.
Day one – 15.00
This was certainly the camp where the four foresters had
relaxed after collecting all the birch sap, but the men were nowhere to be
seen. Merla searched the tents, revealing a journal that indicated they had
completed the sap collecting successfully. All of their belongings appeared to
have been abandoned. The sacred waterfall was nearby, but they hadn’t yet filled
the holy flask of Mielikki with its waters. Curious.
More curious – there were five log seats around the remains
of their campfire. Who was the extra guest? Merla found heeled boot prints
(unlikely to be of the foresters), accompanied by a mule. These led east, up
past the waterfall and towards a high plateau. The heavy booted tread of the
foresters appeared to go with these tracks. There was no sign of a struggle, so
presumably they went willingly? But why leave everything behind?
A fox appeared to have walked through the camp. We found its
body, partially scavenged, and I determined it had died due to poison.
- Could it have taken some of the men’s food?
- Did this indicate their meals were poisoned?
- If they were poisoned, how did they walk up the mountain?
- Were we going to find them alive?
Their horse was safely tethered and the campsite had
remained undisturbed since they left it, so we put a barrel of birch sap back
onto the wagon and proceeded east, allowing Mirna to follow the tracks while
Grimnir and myself kept a careful watch over her.
Day one – 17.30
We reached the crest of the hill. Merla’s expert eye kept us
on the right trail even where the terrain became more rocky – excellent
instincts that halfling has.
Our trail became somewhat confused with another coming in
from the north. Human prints with a heavily laden mule intersected the trail we
were following. These prints appeared older. We continued following the
foresters, heading east on the plateau.
Day one – 18.00
A 12-foot wall of gorse stood before us. It seemed a little
too neat, and some careful examination revealed that there was a way to open a
secret door through this natural barrier and enter the thicket.
Within, we found an old stone ruin, surrounded on all sides
by high gorse walls. A squat tower loomed over the far side of the ruin,
covered in moss and lichen. Clearly, this place was ancient – at least, by
human standards it was anyway!
We cautiously advanced towards the ruin, with Merla scouting
ahead. As she peeked round the corner of the ruin, a shambling skeletal warrior
moved to intercept her! Suddenly, before he could leap to her assistance,
Grimnir was shot at from the direction of the tower! Three arrows flew towards
him. Two found their mark but they did little more than enrage my younger
cousin… that temper of his only grows more severe with the passing weeks,
though it cannot be denied it makes him a dangerous opponent to face in battle.
As we couldn’t see who was shooting at us, Grimnir rushed to
attack the skeletal warrior threatening Merla. His mighty greataxe swung in a
wide arc, slashing the ancient armour, while I ran up to support them both. I
needn’t have hurried though, as Merla sent a pinpoint arrow flying past Grimnir’s
orange mohawk and straight into the undead monster’s leering skull face,
knocking it clean off its shoulders. Grimnir was already running towards the
tower before the collapsing bones had stopped clattering down onto the
stonework.
Merla and myself followed my barbarian kinsman as quickly as
we could, but he had already discovered an enemy to fight – a six-armed
skeleton stood at the base of the ladder that led up to the rear of the tower.
This creature wielded three weapons and three shields, weaving them in an
intricate pattern as it advanced on him, but Grimnir only bellowed in triumph
as he leapt into battle with it.
Once again, I moved to support my cousin, but needn’t have
worried; he and Merla also despatched this foe with expediency.
Grimnir went roaring up the ladder to find the archers who
had shot at him, but found nothing other than three hunting bows – it appeared
that the six-armed skeleton was the shooter so there were no more foes to
fight, much to his disappointment.
We thoroughly explored the area, finding a mule tethered to
the tower and an old sarcophagus with nothing other than old bones within. We
restored the lid on the tomb so that the occupant could continue his eternal
rest undisturbed.
The skeleton warrior that had attacked Merla appeared to be
an ancient champion, from a time before The Dark Wars. I took his mace; it was
well made and ancient, though did not appear to be particularly special.
- Who had animated these skeletons?
- Where were the foresters?
Under a second sarcophagus, we found a set of stairs leading down into the deep earth. Merla showed a little trepidation at going down there – she wasn’t as used to dark tunnels as myself and Grimnir, so we put her between us to reassure her and descended into the darkness. Though we could see perfectly well, we appreciated the fact that our halfling companion could not and so she lit a torch for herself.
We reached the bottom of the stairs and advanced along a
narrow corridor. Ahead, a broken portcullis was wedged into the ceiling. We
could hear loud thuds coming from up ahead at irregular intervals, so we moved
to investigate.
After opening the well-oiled door ahead of us, we found a
trackway where some sort of mining or excavation work was clearly going on. As
we looked on, three zombies started moving towards us, carrying large blocks of
stone from one area across to a spoil heap. These zombies were clad in the
forester garb and could clearly be identified as the men we were sent to find.
They took no heed of us whatsoever, and completely ignored all attempts to stop
them – they had a single-minded purpose and could not be dissuaded from it. It
seemed clear to me that these men were, indeed, dead. They now followed the
orders of whoever had reanimated their corpses, and it was my desire to end
their unnatural existence with my trusty warhammer… Merla didn’t have the
stomach for it, however, and begged me not to. She hoped there was some way
that these men could be saved. I tried to tell her that such magic was well
beyond my ken, and even if it wasn’t these men had been dead for too long, but
in the end, I relented and we left them to their unceasing labours.
We found the fourth forester slumped in a corner – his torso
had been entirely stripped of flesh. It seemed to my eyes to be the work of
some sort of ooze. We had experience of such terrors in the mines back home, so
I remained wary of the narrow fissures in the rock where they could be hiding.
It appeared that these zombies were clearing out a collapsed
tunnel. To what purpose, I could not say, so we proceed onwards to try and
discover some answers.
We found the portcullis controls, damaged beyond repair, so continued on to a large open room which had a large mural depicting Mielikki’s unicorn symbol on one side and a beautiful waterfall on the other. A dead and totally desiccated giant spider lay curled up in one corner of the room. While I examined the spider corpse, Merla was enraptured by the unicorn mural. All of a sudden, another multi-armed skeleton rushed into the room, surprising the halfling and waving its weapons in the air!
The skeleton was quick, but Grimnir was quicker. He moved to
intercept the horror, while Merla retreated and called for my assistance.
Together, we destroyed the undead beast with coordinated attacks, overcoming
its many limbs. This skeleton was also carrying old weapons – clearly
human-made, I thought, as I had forged better pieces when I was but a stripling
of thirteen or fourteen years old. There was little value in them so I left
them where they were, though I considered that we could always return for the
metal later should I have time to fashion something more functional from the
raw material.
- What could have caused the spider to die in such a fashion?
- How many more of these undead abominations are we going to find down here?
- What is this place? What do the murals mean?
We headed into the room where the skeleton had come from.
More rubble littered the floor and, in the corner, a guttering torch
illuminated a large spider web. I used the torch to burn the webbing, revealing
a narrow opening into a rough-hewn tunnel. Steeling ourselves, we began to walk
down the tunnel – Grimnir in front and myself to the rear, again with Merla
safe between us.
Grimnir reached the end of the tunnel, where it opened up
into a larger cavern. Merla was keeping watch behind him while I kept looking
back where we had come from. A loud shout came from behind us and a fire bolt flew
towards me, glancing off my shield and scorching the wall of the tunnel black.
I was incensed.
I didn’t know who had the gall to shout at me like that and
to attack me with magic, but I caught a glimpse of dark robes and a bald head
before the figure ran off. I immediately shouted at my companions to follow me.
This transgression would not stand. We chased our quarry back into the larger
room, where it appeared that he had disappeared through the unopened door to
the east.
We ran in through the door, heedless of what may be on the
other side – I wanted to catch this fiend, whoever he was, and ‘question’ him.
Inside the next room was a large fireplace, full of old leaves and dried
droppings, and another door. Merla decided to investigate the fireplace, in
case our quarry was hiding there, while I moved to kick the next door with my
iron-shod boot.
The door held fast against my kicking, while Merla poked her
head into the fireplace and looked up the chimney. I had thought to suggest she
lit the leaves and smoke out anyone hiding there, but time was against us and I
wanted to get through the door. Unfortunately, for us, Merla’s investigation of
the fireplace stirred up a nest of stirges – evil, vampiric, flapping monsters.
They were more of an annoyance than anything, unless they were found in large
numbers. Twenty of them swarmed from the chimney. This was bad.
Merla was surrounded and bitten several times, losing blood
to the creatures and falling, unconscious, to the floor. My armour protected
me, but Grimnir suffered minor injuries. Though he was able to swat one or two
out of the air with his axe, there were too many for us to deal with, and Merla
needed medical assistance. I tried battering the door down one more time, but
the heavy wooden door held firm. Having no other choice, we picked up our
fallen comrade and ran back out of room, shutting the door as quickly as we
could – not quickly enough, as well over a dozen of the blighters followed us!
We squashed the ones that were feeding on our blood and
swatted as many of them out of the air as we could. Eventually, there were only
a few of the flying beasts remaining, and without the large swarm they became
fearful and flew away to the dark corners of the room. Now that there was a
reprieve, I was able to get Merla back on her feet and use my healing magic to
restore some strength back to both her and Grimnir. We recalled the healing
potions provided to us by the Guild and Merla knocked one back in a long
draught. Her breathing became less ragged, and some colour returned to her
cheeks. It had been an exceptionally narrow escape for us.
But it wasn’t over.
The thudding of the zombies dropping their stone loads had
stopped, and the three zombies now advanced towards us down the corridor – I
told Merla we should have dealt with them when we had the chance!
She raised her bow and shot one of the zombies but it
continued shuffling forwards without even flinching. I was prepared to block
the doorway with my armoured frame, ready to destroy the undead one at a time
as they came down the corridor. But the real danger came from behind us both.
Yet another multi-armed skeleton came charging from the room
with the stirge nest in the fireplace. It leapt at Grimnir, who roared his
defiance. His rage seemed to hit new heights as flecks of spittle foamed at the
corners of his mouth – a frenzied look was in his eyes. It was both frightening
and inspiring to look at. Not that I had much of a chance to look over, as I was
attacked by a huge, humanoid wolf-like being, which attempted to rake me with
its claws and bite me with it’s slavering maw.
I called to Merla to close and brace the door to hold the
zombies in the corridor whilst we dealt with the new threats. Thankfully, the
stirges remained passive and returned to their roost, meaning we ‘just’ had one
undead abomination and one werewolf to deal with. For now, at least – I still
wanted to find that mage, who I assumed was the necromancer raising the dead in
this tomb.
Grimnir was trading vicious blows with the multi-armed
skeleton, with neither of them really gaining the upper hand (or hands…).
Merla was successfully keeping the zombies out, while helping me by shooting
her bow at the wolf-beast that assailed me. For my part, the armour that I had
forged for myself held strong and deflected the worst of the beast’s incredibly
vicious attacks. I muttered a prayer and imbued my hammer with the heat of the
forge. When I finally managed to get a solid hit on the werewolf, the beast
immediately burst into flames and yelped in pain. It fell backwards from me,
changing appearance as it did so. It was no longer a wolf – it was the bald man
with dark robes, though they were now aflame thanks to my knowledge of forge
magic. He looked panicked. As his eyes darted one way and another, looking for
escape, Merla shot him in the head. A perfect shot under pressure from the
halfling.
The necromancer fell, dead, to the ground. As he did so, his
undead charges all lost the animating will that had been propelling them, so
they fell to the ground as well. There were no more zombies banging on the door
and the multi-armed skeleton collapsed in on itself. The fight was over.
We found that the necromancer must have been living here for
quite some time. He must have been looking for something important – presumably
through the collapsed tunnel that he was trying to excavate with zombie
assistance? This would certainly have to be reported back to Cydor, as it would
certainly warrant further investigation. For now, however, we knew that the
birch sap was safe back at the campsite, and we had discovered the grisly fate
of the unfortunate foresters. If we could return their bodies to the town for
proper funerals, that may provide at least a little comfort to their families.
When searching his belongings, we found numerous magical scrolls and spellbooks in a Fiendish language that we could not read. There was also correspondence with someone, discussing how to open a sarcophagus – with a reminder to light a torch first. Whether this someone was a superior or subordinate was unclear, but there was a letter prepared to send to them via raven – and perhaps it would be sensible to send that letter to delay the news that this mage was dead. Whatever we decided to do, we needed to rest and heal, before our journey back to the camp and on to Birch Vale in the morning.
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