D&D Campaign Session for November 17th, 2001

Played with 3rd Edition Rules

The Swords of Sunndi Player Characters:

Kespin eth Lunar, Male Human Bard (Josh)
Kobort, Male Half-Orc Cleric/Paladin of Heironeous (Bart)
Mike Steel, Male Human Fighter (Patty)
Westwind, Halfling Male Fighter (Andrew)
Wrye Leagallow, Male Halfling Ranger (Chris)

Swords Crossing

Reaping 4th, 574 CY, Seblingham

We arrived in Seblingham around midday after a remarkably uneventful trip back from Aniel. Of course, we could not make a quiet return, for as soon as we drew close to town Kespin struck up a new tune he's been working on. It immediately caught on with the folk who greeted us:

A warning to evil, both large and small
That hide in the dungeons and creep in the hall.

The Swords of Sunndi will fight you
By our guiding light we will right you
And as our blades will bite you
The Swords of Sunndi will smite you!

And so we have a song, although Kespin has advised me to leave the singing of it to him.

Kobort and I went immediately to the temple to report in. We found, upon arrival, that we had missed our other companions on their way north to Pitchfield, but that on their way through they had left word for us. Tharum even seemed impressed as he presented to us scrolls of commendation from Count Hazendel himself: Kobort, Westwind and I have been declared Heroes of Sunndi for our work in the Caves of Chaos. We have been officially invited to Pitchfield and will each be granted an audience with the Count, which is not a small thing.

Mayor Zacharias joined us at the temple and we told both him and Tharum of our experiences in the Menowood and in Aniel. We noted Tarien's reluctance to associate Aniel with Seblingham for fear of angering the druids, even in time of need; Zacharias told us then that Ramne has left the woods outside of town and has not been seen since. Ithil has gone with him, although I do not know what purpose she may have. Before she left, she gave a great feast to the people of Seblingham. They are still enjoying the leftovers and the hangovers.

However, as we discussed the state of Seblingham it became clear that because of the problems of the past year, the fields were not planted in time or in enough quantity to feed the town for the winter. Between Zacharias' stash and our donations, there is enough to purchase goods for the coming year, but we have decided to find someone to rebuild the temple of Berei to assure a good harvest for next season. The closest temple of Berei is several days' ride in the town of Menoc, so we will stop there on our way to Pawford. When we are finished in Pawford, we plan to return to Aniel and the Menowood to not only pick up Wrye's armor, but also to let Tarien know of Ramne's disappearance and to investigate the ancient ruins he and the pixies spoke of.

We intend to stay in Seblingham for a few days to make sure all is going well. Kespin has been reunited with Jenna Eddings and Sirilli and Westwind has snuck off to a meal with little Gwynn Sprite. Wrye has found the new tavern to be doing rather well, and I again enjoy the hospitality of the Coblers.

Reaping 5th, 574 CY, Seblingham

Wrye Leagallow is an enterprising halfling indeed. This morning he went to speak with Mayor Zacharias: we had all agreed to give the coppers we had found in the Menowood to the town rather than hoard or carry them with us. Wrye gave him the coppers, all right, but he also came out with the deed to the Willow Inn.

As it turns out, the Mayor did not know what to do with the building. Given its history and the tunnels beneath it, I think we are all more comfortable to have it under our control. We are now making preparations to open it as an inn once more, and have decided to call it "Swords' Crossing". There was some debate about what to use for a sign, but Westwind is having one painted for us.

In the afternoon, Wrye and Travor and I were sparring in the courtyard when a very drunk Kespin staggered up and challenged Wrye to an archery contest. Given the fact that Kespin has never shot a bow in his life, we were hard pressed to treat his challenge seriously save for his wager of ten gold coins. With money at stake, it didn't take long to attract Westwind's attention, and soon it became a full-fledged archery tournament between the lot of us. Travor has had some experience in running tournaments, so he set up the targets and set out the rules, and we each put in our ten coins and took our shots.

Kespin borrowed my bow for it, as he has none of his own, and he started off with a reasonable shot for all that he could barely stay on his feet from wine. We each took our shots and Wrye indeed beat Kespin, but it was Kobort with his sling and I with my bow who ended up shooting off for the prize. In the end it took more than divine guidance for a sling to best a longbow, and so I have put the money toward the repairs to our Inn since we estimate that it will take just that much to put the place in order. We had such a good time that we have also decided that we should hold a yearly tournament here to draw business to the town and to the Swords' Crossing.

Reaping 7th, 574 CY, Seblingham

We have none of us ever owned or run an Inn, so it is at the very least a challenge for us. Much of our time has been devoted to putting the place to rights and planning the practicalities of the day-to-day operations. Wilham, the Miller's father, approached us this morning with an offer to run our inn along with his tavern as proprietor and we have accepted. He has been a good bit of help to us in figuring out who else to hire and all the other details.

Wrye has sent a letter to Paprika's brother Mustard Spice with an offer for a job here at the Swords' Crossing. He has been in the hostelry profession under his father for much of his life, and could be a great asset to us here. Gwynn Sprite is considering a job here as cook or serving maid, and the Cobler boys are very excited to help.

Between training with Travor and helping with the training of the temple recruits, my skills have been tested and I feel I am learning much more of the tactics of battle as well as the raw force of it. Travor has shown me tricks with the sword that I would not have thought to even look for -- and would consequently have meant my death. I do not think I will have enough time here to perfect his moves and counters, but I am none the less glad to have him as an ally rather than an enemy and I am certain his training will be put to good use.

Wrye too has been improving in his skills. Each morning I see him at the archery targets we have set up, practicing the art of the shortbow. I believe he has nearly got the technique of shooting twice in rapid succession, and although I have called to him that it is better to shoot true once than awry twice, he has not let my heckling deter him.

Reaping 11th, 574 CY, Out of Seblingham

A caravan stopped in Seblingham yesterday afternoon and we have lightened their load considerably in order to stock the Crossing Inn. Wilham handled the purchasing and unloading with great enjoyment, and in a few hours had not only hired most of the town for temporary help but also had the Inn well enough stocked to begin serving dinner to the very same caravan that had just sold it to us. I believe this venture could turn out very well indeed.

Knight Tharum has been spending some time researching the sword Kobort took from the swamp. It is called "Valor", and was forged some 300 years ago in the Great Kingdom. It was carried by Heynar Barengard, also a Paladin and a Knight Protector; at the time when the last of the Rax dynasty fell, he too fell in battle. We still do not know the full measure of its enchantment or how it came to be in the Great Swamp for Kobort to find, but we will perhaps be able to discover more as we continue our travels.

As a group, we have decided to purchase horses to speed our travels to Menoc and Pawford. Although both Kespin and I would prefer to use our own two feet, we have been outvoted and just this morning we arranged to purchase spare beasts from the caravan before they traveled onward.

Kobort, however, did not wish to buy an ordinary riding horse. Instead, he found a warhorse that had been left in the town's livery stable by an unfortunate victim of the Naga. Its owner had not been back to collect it, so now it belongs to Kobort and although he had a rough first ride, I think the two of them are starting to get along. Myself, I prefer the sturdy mare I ended up with for she is not likely to exhibit much spirit if I do not ask for it. We may travel slower for it, but I do not think Kespin will mind it either.

The lads have said their goodbyes to their ladies each in their own fashion. Kespin and Westwind held theirs in private and each emerged this morning in pleasant moods, but Kobort enlisted our bard's help as he ambushed Fiona on the temple steps. As Kespin tells it, he played a romantic air -- I would more likely term it a sappy tune, probably elvish at that -- while Kobort professed his love for her; after a tense, stunned moment of silence, Fiona returned his declaration with her own. Certainly, Kobort has a bounce in his step this morning, and Fiona was there to say farewell as we left.

We travel first to Menoc to find the temple of Berei. We hope that they will want to reestablish the temple in Seblingham, for the folk there not only need Heironeous' protection; they also need to eat.

After Menoc we plan to head for Pawford to find and root out the temple of Syrul. Kobort has been charged with the task by his church, but I think none of us would pass up the opportunity after having seen the devastation they have wrought. Wrye's reason is personal, for his betrothed's cousin Nikka was killed by Syrul's assassins; and there are still many, many folk of Seblingham who have not been found since they were taken by the Naga. Although we have little to go on, Kespin knows something of Pawford and should be able to find us a starting point.

Reaping 12th, 574 CY, On the road to Menoc

I have decided that I do not like horseback riding. I knew that already, but now I am quite certain.

We were entertained today by an intense discussion between Wrye and Westwind on halfling family lines and the Halfling Prince; it is a story I have heard him tell before and even though I have heard of it elsewhere, the way he tells it I am never certain whether he has made the whole thing up or not.

It was briefly interrupted when Wrye spotted a dog watching us from the brush at the side of the road. Just as he called our attention to it, it blinked out -- much like the pixies or the spiders. We were unsure of what to make of it, but we were not harassed as we passed by.

Toward noon we began to see a lone traveler on the road ahead of us. We gained on him steadily through the afternoon and finally, Wrye rode ahead as he scouted and introduced himself. He travels with us for the time being as we are both headed in the same direction; he is a farmer and does not wish to chance his safety on the road if given the choice.

He has introduced himself as Jennar. His village lay in the east of Sunndi and was attacked by humanoids, and now he has tired of trying to hold his land and seeks employment in a larger town as a woodworker. He has spent the last two weeks traveling across the county in an effort to reach civilization -- I do not know why he did not simply head north to Pitchfield along the eastern road, but the fact remains that he has had very little food or sleep on his journey and he was very grateful for the rabbit stew Wrye cooked up this evening.

It seems that he has heard of us -- Kobort especially-- from the songs that have been spreading from the Keep. He seemed impressed, at the least, and has been very helpful in the camp. Kespin had no qualms about accepting his offer to tend to the horses.

Reaping 13th, 574 CY, The Laughing Glass Inn

We received news this morning on the road of a plague in Pawford. The rider was exhausted: he had been riding for a week and a half with little to no rest to make sure to spread the news as far as possible.

All of us were disturbed to hear the news. Jennar was headed there in hopes of finding a living; our quest lies there and our companions are possibly there on their way to Pitchfield. I hope that they have avoided the sickness and are well on their way. Kobort wishes to go into Pawford still, despite the plague, for Heironeous grants him immunity to such diseases. Also, he is half orc, and we have seen orcs living in conditions that would quickly wear down the health of a man. The rest of us do not have such advantages in this case.

Kespin is willing to go to Pawford anyway. I would go if I thought it would do good, but I do not see the point in dying of disease on the off-chance that we might find the cult. The town is quarantined: even if they did let us in, they are not letting anyone out -- including snake cultists. The cult will still be there when the plague has run its course, if there are any survivors of it. We are undecided as a group, and have only determined to sleep on it.

Tonight we spend at a small wayside inn, the Laughing Glass. The proprietor is an unusual half-orc woman who seems quite capable of acting as both bartender and bouncer in one. The place is decorated roughly, in keeping with the clientele: weapons adorn the walls, well-fastened in case someone should try to use one. A group of besotted halflings is laughing merrily in the corner, and the other tables seem to hold a combination of locals and travelers.

Kespin is basking in the applause of a new audience tonight as he sings his "Swords of Sunndi" song. He gave a good rendition of the Hill Giant song too, but a few of the regulars seemed to think that there was another bard in recently who had done it better; while she didn't have a name, Kespin is certain he knows who it was. I swear I heard him muttering something about her and the plague in Pawford. No matter -- he also announced our plans for Brewfest in hopes that news will begin to spread and we will have a full house in Seblingham.

As we rode this morning, Kobort began to have a conversation with his warhorse. I suppose they are getting along, although it is certainly having its way with him and demanding food at every occasion. It very nearly flattened Wrye's head with a hoof to get at his grain. As Wrye tells it, horses will eat themselves to death if given the chance. As I see it, it nearly ate Wrye to death.

This is just one reason why I do not try to speak with horses.

Reaping 14th, 587 CY, On the road to Menoc

The day began innocently enough. The weather was clear, if a bit hot, and we were making good progress on the road. Kobort was talking to his horse again, although thankfully it made no moves toward Wrye today.

Kespin was riding next to me. I was paying little attention to him; he was humming something, as he often does. Then he pulled his horse closer and spoke covertly to me.

"There's magic on Jennar's chest," he told me. I frowned.

"Are you sure?" He nodded, then kicked his horse into a bouncing trot for a few paces to catch up with Kobort. I immediately warned Wrye and Westwind, knowing what Kobort's reaction was likely to be. I was not wrong.

"You wear magic?" Kobort demanded of Jennar. We halted our travel for the moment, circling there on the road until we should get some explanation. If a poor farmer should be wearing magic, it means he is likely not such a poor farmer.

Jennar was startled and defensive. He denied it at first, but grew more and more nervous under Kobort's questioning. I'm sure he saw the growing distrust in us, and quickly came up with a plausible explanation.

"I was wounded in the raid on my village with a magic arrow," he finally told us. "They never could get the point of it out." He opened his shirt and revealed bare chest -- he wore nothing aside from his clothing, and his garments were not magical.

I think we all believed him then. We certainly wanted to, although we were wary of him. Kobort tried to convince him to stay so that he could remove the arrow, but I admit that despite his talents, Kobort does not have the look of a healer about him. Jennar became agitated and insisted on leaving us and traveling by himself.

"You know, I once knew a fellow back in Nayford who was hit with a magic arrow. The point of it worked its way slowly up through his body for years, inch by inch, until one day it found his heart." Wrye chimed in with a relevant tale. Jennar did not seem reassured or convinced.

Although we did not like it, we had no reason to force him to stay with us. He rode off ahead, and the terrain being open and rolling we were able to keep him in sight for the rest of the morning. He did his best to outpace us without much success on his old nag, but finally he dropped out of sight over a tall rise and when we came down the far side, we saw only his horse. He had abandoned it to graze by the side of the road while he had run off into the fields and brush. The poor beast was nearly done for, so we removed its tack and left it to roam.

Certain now that the man's intentions could not be as innocent as he stated, we were resolved to find him again. Wrye was able to pick up Jennar's trail without much difficulty; the man had moved with remarkable speed away from the road, and we followed for a couple of hours. I took advantage of the slow tracking pace to walk on my own feet for a while, which my horse seemed to appreciate as much as I did. I did not ask it, though. We heard wolves from time to time across the rolling hills, but nothing else out of the ordinary, and we were not catching up to Jennar yet.

A halfling patrol met us as we traversed the open country. Although they were simply out hunting the wolves we had heard, they had happened to spot Jennar running. They could not catch him and did not bid him to stop, but they were able to tell us where he had been to save us the time of tracking him there. They also ascertained by some means that one of them was possibly a cousin of Westwind's. Perhaps it has something to do with the Halfling Prince, too.

They showed us the spot, but it was already approaching dusk by the time Wrye managed to pick out the trail again. Most of an hour later, there was only twilight left as we came upon a sleeping man some distance down in a low ravine.

We thought it was Jennar. From what we could see he was dressed much the same as our farmer. We fanned out along the hillside to surround him as Wrye crept closer for a better look. Kobort cast something that only woke him up, and at that moment Wrye realized that this man was not our quarry. He was chained and manacled, well-bruised and beaten despite a sense of strength. He caught Wrye's eye, and the halfling signaled back to us, but as Kobort started forward an arrow struck beside Wrye and quivered in the dirt.

Wrye ducked, gesturing toward the treeline. He let an arrow of his own fly to point the way, and when it hit home we had enough of a guide to let our arrows follow. The prisoner rolled out of the way, toward us.

At that moment a huge warhorse crested the far hill. Riding him was a well-armored figure, a half-orc by size alone, bearing a horseman's flail and a shield with a mailed fist emblazoned upon it: the symbol of Hextor. He immediately focused on Kobort and charged down the slope.

I had a fleeting glance of Jennar coming in from the side, running very swiftly toward our flank, but the prisoner had reached my side and now he addressed me.

"Free me." I hesitated. Although I was nearly certain this man would be an ally, I did not trust anything to do with Jennar.

"Speak truly: friend or foe?"

"Friend," he replied, "on my word as a Knight Protector."

I struck his chains. Although I made a mark, they were sturdily built and did not immediately give.

The mounted knight of Hextor swung his flail in a broad arc, but Kobort parried it and struck with Valor.

"I will send you back groveling to your evil master," the Paladin promised.

Jennar was a better combatant than we would have guessed, and was pressing Wrye on our flank as Westwind and Kespin shot at the archer in the trees. Kespin kept up a song as he shot, a heartening rhythm although I did not notice the words.

I had not gotten very far on the man's chains when I saw Kobort fall to Hextor's flail. The Knight Protector also watched. He again held out his manacled hands to me.

"I'll take care of him," he offered. With more time to spare, I would have gladly worked on his chains. As it was, I saw the warhorse come around, hooves red from Kobort's blood: nobody else could distract the evil rider from gleefully trampling Heironeous' champion. I pulled my dagger from my belt and dropped it for the man in case he could find use for it, put my sword before me and charged the horse and rider. It could easily have been a mistake.

"Kulg, you bastard!" The Knight, hampered by his leg irons, was several paces back as he shook his fists at the half-orc and challenged him. "I'm still alive! Fight me!"

Kulg snarled at him, but did not take the bait. His flail bit into my armor and my flesh, but I slid Tel Khun deep into his side and left a smoking gash. Then I made a promise of my own:

"You will regret this day," I told him. I knew I would not last long against him, but I also knew he would not last long against me. As it turned out, it was a question of allies. As we dodged each other's blows, it was Kespin's crossbow bolt that struck him solidly. He fell unconscious from the saddle and dangled from one stirrup as his horse pranced nervously.

Wrye still had his hands full with Jennar, although Westwind and Kespin had already dealt with the archer. Westwind then gave a yell and charged right past us, nearly through the warhorse's hooves, to engage the farmer-turned-monk. I have seen Selena fight as Jennar did, rapid punches and whirling kicks with a force equal to a blade, but such a style is no match for a determined halfling. In moments he collapsed, stuck with Wrye's arrows and Westwind's axe.

I called for help with Kobort and was reaching to my belt for one of Tarien's potions, but when I turned to attend to the Paladin I found that the Knight had already done so. Kobort was just coming around, the worst of his injuries already closing. None of us were any the less grateful for help from an unexpected quarter.

I caught hold of Kulg's warhorse and freed his limp body from the stirrup. He bled freely, but was still just barely alive. I raised my sword to finish the follower of Hextor.

Then I saw his face. I stopped my sword mid-swing. It took only a moment to be sure, and then I called to the Knight.

"What is this?" I demanded to know. "What is the meaning of this?"

The man was surprised.

"That is Kulg," he began explaining, until I pointed to the half-orc's features.

"Why does he look like Kobort?" Rougher, yes, and scarred; twisted and evil, but they might as well have been twins. The Knight stared first at one, then the other, and shook his head.

"I do not know."

Much as I would have ended Kulg's evil life then and there, I realized that it was not my place. When Kobort had regained his feet I called him over and left him to do as he would.

Kobort healed him, of course. He sits now in our campsite, firmly bound along with the monk.

I worked again on the Knight's chains. He introduced himself as Sir Lleronon Golant, a Knight Protector of the Great Kingdom and also a Paladin of Heironeous. Before long I had him free, although I do not think an ordinary blade would have survived the punishment.

At that point we realized that Wrye had been wounded more than was obvious. He and Westwind and Kespin had been making a thorough search of our adversaries when he abruptly collapsed, his strength gone. The arrows which had struck him had certainly been poisoned, and even with healing magicks he was still too weak to move. Kobort took advantage of his state to inscribe a small flower upon his face with Kespin's enthusiastic help, although I do not think that Wrye was so upset by it as Kobort was by the pixies. Sir Golant was not certain what to make of it.

We have made camp in the valley for the night and keep a careful watch on our prisoners. Sir Golant has been able to tell us something of them, as he has been their captive for several weeks. He knows only what he could overhear, for they kept him unconscious for much of the time. From that, he speculates that they were looking for us -- the "Heroes of the South". I would wager that our encounter did not go as well for them as they had planned.

The farmer Jennar is actually Brother Voldus, a monk who carried the fanged symbol of Syrul. We found about his neck an amulet, invisible when worn, which must have hidden his evil from Kobort's detection; he was their contact with the slavers on the coast of Idee. Sir Golant believes that he was to be taken there and sold. Perhaps there is no connection, but I find it hard to believe that this is a coincidence: we have heard that many of the Naga's victims were sold into slavery, and now we find a slaver bearing Syrul's mark. If we can pursue this far enough, Westwind may even find a lead on Gwynn Sprite's little brother.

Golant's own quest leads him south into the Vast Swamp. While we settled into camp tonight he described to Kobort a vision he saw from Heironeous; I had not realized that the gods were so talkative. It was interpreted by a sage in Rel Astra as an omen of an uprising of great darkness and chaos. He told of a hexagon of black stone, wet with running fluid; an amulet of pure light and a strange tower across mountains and jungles. Hexagons stacked themselves to form the tower amid the ruins of a once-great city. Only smoking chaos and destruction remained; he was told that it was a prophesy of the destruction of the Great Kingdom and perhaps Oerth itself.

The sage was able to determine that this tower lies in the lands beyond Sunndi, and this was interpreted as south. Sir Golant spoke of ancient civilizations; so did Ramne when I spoke with him about the Vast Swamp. Of immediate interest to us is a race of snake-men who are said to live in the jungle south of the sea. He was interested to hear of the snake-man who had tried to pass through Seblingham, though none of us know more.

Kobort in turn told Golant of the vision of the map we took from the Naga's lair. An area within the Vast Swamp glowed to Kobort, and although we still do not know exactly what the glow meant, we are almost certain that it signifies evil. Both Kobort and Golant believe their visions to be related, and I have long since ceased to question where the gods are involved.

Reaping 15th, 574 CY, On the road to Menoc

Thankfully, the night was uneventful. Kobort began the morning by tending to Wrye, and we were all much relieved when he was able to stand once again and handle his bow. It was not long before he had to, for Voldus managed to escape from his bonds, jumping free and sprinting away. He did not get far -- Wrye had laid claim to the archer's poisoned arrows. One struck him solidly. We retrieved him, staunched the flow of blood and fastened his ropes more securely. He surrendered to us, but only because he could not run.

Wrye happily guided us across the open country, the shortest way to the road to Menoc. He has spoken wistfully about being so close to Nayford, but he is nonetheless pleased to be in familiar surroundings. We traveled steadily with the prisoners tied to horses and Golant mounted on Kulg's warhorse -- neither Kespin nor I was particularly anxious to deal with the beast and Westwind's legs wouldn't even reach its sides. Kobort continues to make friends with his horse and seems pleased with the process. I am happy enough that all this riding has not bent me permanently out of shape.

Midmorning brought us up to a pack of bugbears moving ahead of us on the trail. They had not yet realized we were there when Wrye crept back and signaled; we readied our weapons and the sound of the horses alerted them. They turned to attack, but we were quicker: Wrye's arrow sprouted from the shoulder of one and Sir Golant spurred his horse into the fray.

They were tough humanoids and with a shaman to direct them, they were remarkably effective. There was a point during the battle when they looked to have the upper hand, for there were fourteen of them and six of us and they had quickly moved to surround us. Golant and Kobort and I formed a line of battle with Wrye and his bow behind us while Westwind and Kespin were quick to defend our flanks. I have not seen any man run so fast as our bard was moving, although I think I recall Kari casting such a spell at our one encounter with the Hill Giant outside of Seblingham. Thankfully, I do not recall much of the first moments of that particular battle.

This battle was over in only a few minutes, although it did not seem short during the fighting of it. Westwind kept a pair of them busy and Kespin and I worked to keep the bugbear axes from spoiling Wrye's aim; Kobort and Golant between them worked their way through the oncoming bugbears until at last their shaman was unprotected as he tried to cast some kind of evil spell. Golant cut him down.

The tide had turned. The bugbears turned to flee, but they did not have a chance.

"Tally ho!" Golant called out. He raised his sword and spurred his mount forward to cut off their retreat. "Surrender!"

I pulled back to stand guard on the prisoners as the others chased down the stragglers. I saw Westwind run off after the one he had been fighting, brandishing his handaxe. If I had not seen the halfling in battle before, it would have been comical to see him give chase to an opponent more than twice his size.

Two in the bushes made a clean escape, and Golant finished off the last one with a spirited charge to lop the bugbear's head from its shoulders. Westwind got over his disappointment quickly enough as we discovered what the bugbears had been carrying with them, for they must have been returning from a successful raid. As he counted, the halfling kept muttering something about five percent, but I am not sure what he was referring to.

Kobort has been able to learn more of the history of his sword Valor from the Knight. As it was the weapon of a Knight Protector in its time, we have learned something of the history of the Knights as well from him. Although they are now few in number and are even hunted by evil within the Great Kingdom, they were once a proud Order. It is a sign of dire things indeed in the Great Kingdom when they have come to the point where they can no longer travel openly. Golant was a great prize as a captive of a follower of Hextor.

We will travel with Sir Golant as far as Menoc, where I suppose we will turn our prisoners over to the local law unless Kobort has some use for Kulg. The more I look at him, the greater the resemblance becomes -- he has been ritually scarred and disfigured, but looking beyond that to what his features must have been, he should be Kobort's twin.

We will submit our request for assistance in Seblingham to the temple of Berei and then we must decide on our path. Golant travels to the Vast Swamp on his quest; we should hear more news of Pawford once we reach Menoc.

Here endeth the session, as excerpted and translated from the journal of Mike.