Gathering 5th through Vingrow 4th-Life in Estkap-(54 gp, 59 sp Modest lifestyle 1 gp per day, plus horse
Arriving in Estkap, I stable the horses and find some lodging in the third floor of a tenemant house occupied by low ranking soldiers and journeymen. I soon find work as a bowmaker and fletcher. I could easily live a long, comfortable life in this manner, but after seeing what happened to my home, to Tellog, and to many other places over the yearsI know tht men like me should be on the frontier, tracking down and destroying threats to humanity. Though…that did not work out so well in Tellog.
I do spend one evening playing cards with the other tenants of our home, but after I clean them out, they decide not to invite me back again! It is always nice to double one’s money! The following week, I receive a visit from the head of the baker’s guild, Ida Chelmond. She thanks me for rescuing her cousin, Baily Stanner, from the Crystalian Delve and the sack of Tellog. “It is a rare man who risks his life, when even the Baron of the land and his noble vassals cower in fear. Perhaps this gift will guard your noble heart and allow to save others who might live in fear!” With that, she presents me with studded leather shirt. Each of the steel studs is engraved with magical wards, and I can sense the power within it. I thank her profusely and promise to wear it well.
Week 1-No event, look for work-Find a job as a fletcher/bowmaker earing 3d8 gp per week plus expenses (40 gp, plus 59 sp)
Week 2 No event, save 4 gp, gamble 10 gp, win 40 gp! (84 gp, plus 59 sp)
Week 3 Event (A philanthropist gives me a gift worth 1200 gp, saved 2 gp (86 gp, plus 59 sp plus 1200 gp object
Week 4 No event, save 3 gp (89 gp, plus 59 sp plus 1200 gp object)
Week 5 Given a chance to invest, but I decline, no savings (89 gp, plus 59 sp plus 1200 gp object)
Vingrow 5th, DamesDay-42 degrees, windy with leaves and small twigs in constant motion, flags extended.
I have taken to frequenting the “Lonely Fountain” tavern in the evenings. Robder, the barkeep and owner, is rather gruff and down to business. In fact, most of the staff seem unhappy, but it’s across the street from my lodging so I often eat here. I’ve kind of made friends with a half elven barmaid named Velyn. She is a slightly plump girl, hard working and very shy. Other than taking orders, it took nearly three weeks for me to get another word out of her. She always recoils when unfamiliar patrons try to speak with her, and she cows easily before Robder and the other barmaids. Robdar himself seems to be a bit unpleasant. I’m pretty sure he and Velyn’s sister, Floryn, are sleeping with each other. But Robder also happens to be married, so…who’s to say?
Well, at a tavern, one hears rumors, like that Sir Julian Eskap may be behind the mysterious deaths of rivals for the affection of Dame Laura Mostek. Or the story of the Curse of Dollin’s Bridge that any who try to cross it when the mooons, Fate and Fortune, vanish forever. Or that Mayla Klenik, sentenced to be hanged for murder, was framed for the poisoning death of Squire Addock, or that Trade Captain Helwalk’s caravan is carrying relics from demonic temple that will bring ruin wherever they are taken.
Another thing one hears about is the coming holiday. Muster is a service, where everyone comes out for drills, but of even greater joy is the tournament that always takes place on that day! With the tragic loss of many of Baron Estkaps hired knights, and men at arms, experienced warriors who prove themselves in the tourney might be granted true knighthood as servants of the Baron’s household! And common men of talent may be offered positions in his guard. This is of greater interest to others than me, but several lads from across the fiefdom have come to town to join the celebration and tourney here, rather than simply mustering for drills in their home village.
One such group spills into the tavern, outfitted battle and trying to look as bold and intimidating as they can! “Move over, this table is ours now!” declares the leader of the group. He is an older fellow, wearing a suit of chainmail and carrying a longsword with a wellworn hilt on his belt. His companions, of varying ages but generally seeming like competent, if not drunk, soldiers chime in as well. I shrug my shoulder and move to the bar itself. Velyn starts serving me at the bar, and her sister and the other barmaid tend to the noisy patrons. The sergeant then starts boasting about how he and his boys are going to win the tourney events tomorrow, and that he’ll finally get the knighthood he deserves after his years of glory in the gobln wars and loyal service thereafter. He gets a lot of attention, especially from some of the looser women who frequent the place. Thankfully, I’m allowed to drink in peace.
Vingrow 6th, Gods Day-43 degrees, windy with leaves and small twigs in constant motion, flags extended.
As it’s a holiday, I head over to the mustering fields, to report in as a member of the Estkap militia, though truthfully, I am just passing through. I’m not a new recruit, so I don’t have to go through all of the morning drills. I show my scarf, and fire twenty shots into a target, and that is all they need to see from me. Then I head over to the grand melee grounds to watch the men vying for positions in the guard, or even knighthood!
Suddenly, about a quarter of the men simply leave the field, and I am surprised to see that it is in response to a woman walking out, in full armor, to present herself for the trials. Women don’t normally fight on the front lines, and while it is common to call unmarried women to muster to teach them the basics of archery,explain how to tend to the wounded, and to practice dousing fires, they aren’t expected to fight in close quarters. Yet, some women do, and apparently, this is one of them!
“I am Zofia Pyka, I present myself for knighthood, and challenge any man who thinks I am unworthy to prove themselves my better!” she calls out.
I look her over. She’s a pretty girl, but not any older than me. And she doesn’t carry herself as a seasoned warrior, but she doesn’t look like a novice either. I”m half tempted to challenge her just to test her mettle, but I don’t care if Baron Estkap wants a woman as one of his knights. Who better to guard his wife or daughters? Less likelihood of infidelity than with a male bodyguard.
The woman just stands there, nobody takes up the challenge. Captain Desarant calls out to her, “Go home, woman. You don’t belong here.” She calls back that she’s braver than any man present as none will face her. The captain looks around, and calls out to the men, “If you are all afraid of a woman, how can I expect any of you to stand against an orc or a troll?”
One of the men, reluctantly, takes the field. He’s a few years older than me, and I can tell from his approach that he both knows how to fight, and takes her seriously as a threat. The two square off. In spite of her obvious youth and beauty, and seeming inexperience, she proves to be a skilled combatant. She’s faster with her longblade than I am with my daggers! Thrust and parry in quick succession! Expert use of her shield! And by the end of the fight, I am certain that had she faced any other aspirant present, she would have likely prevailed.
“I yield,” Zofia cries out, down on her knees, her foe’s blade to her neck. The man sheathes his sword, and extends his hand to help her back up.
“Well met, Zofia Pyka. You are a worthy foe, and I for one, would be honored to fight at your side!” the man says loudly enough for everyone else to hear. I can see her smile of appreciation.
“Squire Lennarat,” the Captain calls out, “why don’t you just go home and nurse her children then! You are no longer needed here!”
The squire turns to face the captain, gives an exaggerated bow, and then walks away with his head held high. Zofia follows, angry and defiant.
“Strange days, indeed,” I mutter to myself.
The trials then resume, with the remaining men testing themselves against one another, and I become increasingly certain that the two best fighters present had just been turned away by the Baron’s captain! As evening draws near, and they prepare to announce the names of those being enlisted, and of anyone to be knighted, Baron Estkap himself arrives. With him are his two sons, and an almost ethereal looking young woman in silken robes.
“I am grateful to all of you men present, who have proven yourselves courages in battle and offer your swords in defense of my fief, and its people! I am also pleased to announce that Dame Laura Mostek has accepted my son’s marriage proposal and will soon become his bride!” There is widespread applause, though I am puzzled as to why the announcement is being made before the muster, instead of at a feast in the Baron’s halls. “On Ring Day, House Coravos and House Estkap will be united forever!” And then I understand. Ring Day is less than a fortnight away, and apparently, this woman is somehow part of the royal family. I’m not a political person, but Julian Estkap is not a man I’d wish to be in line for the throne. The people of Estkap are grateful he is the Baron’s second son, and not his eldest!
“Murderer!” a man yells out from the crowd of spectators. A few eyes turn towards the disturbance, but most ignore the outburst as the nobles turn away towards their business and everyone esle goas about theirs. The man continues to cry out, but everyone ignores him. Finally he starts pleading. I watch him as he just sort of collapses. He’s an old man, frail, bald…desperately pleading for help, for someone to help his daughter.
I walk over to him, “Old man, nobody trusts his lordship, but what are you going on about?” The man explains that his daughter is Maylo Klenik, Lord Addock’s physician, but that she is a master of her craft, and yet Lord Estkap has locked her up for murder, claiming she poisoned her patient. That cannot be true! Estkap must have murdered him, and now will murder her to conceal his own guilt!
“That’s enough, you two,” snarls a sergeant. He and his men glower at us. “Move along…or perhaps, you’d best come along.”
They grab the old man and start dragging him away, “Mark my words stranger! Sir Juilan’s a murderer! I know it, you know it, and when I hang for saying it, everyone will know it!” The guards yell at him to shut up and even kick him to the ground a time or two to drive their point home.
Vingrow 7th, Market Day-42 degrees, windy with leaves and small twigs in constant motion, flags extended.
After work I head over to the market square. People are talking about yesterday’s muster, the battles they watched, the engagement of Sir Julian the death of Magistrate Addock, the captured murderess and the scene her father created at Muster. There is plenty of gossip!
As I sit down in the small garden adjacent to the bustling market to eat my dinner, I suddenly notice a young woman is lying across a thick branch in the tree I am leaning against, watching the crowd. Her brown hair has a greenish hue, and her features are decidedly elvish and her clothing is rather…scarce? “Did you see that one?” she asks, with her melodic voice. I ask what she means, “The cutpurse, of course.” she tsks, “they are always taking what does not belong them. Not caring who they take it from. I suppose that is the human way.” she sighs whistfully.
“Maybe he’s poor and has a family to feed,” I suggest, but she laughs, and asks if it isn’t the case that most everyone is poor with family to feed? The nobles don’t go to the market and have their purses filched, they send poor men to shop for them, and then flog them for the theft if they are so unlucky as to get robbed.
“Do you think that is just?” she asks, sitting up now, and regarding me curiously. Seeing her more clearly now, I realize that she is not an elf, but something else. More fey, less bound to this world. I answer that it is the way of this world. The wealthy have power, the poor hunger, and good and ill take their turn flogging everyone in their turn. “It shouldn’t be that way,” she says firmly. Almost angrily. “Good people should prosper. Healers like Maylo should be praised for their kind hearts and their knowledge of secrets that help heal the unwell and mend broken bones. Women like Mostek should marry fair men like Addock, and raise children who look after those in need, punish the lawbreakers and honor the ancient ways and the secrets of the Green.” I tell her that she thinks too much about politics. She laughts like music of gold coins falling into a treasure hoard. “Lest an axe lay me bare, I’ll outlive them all, so you are right, I concern myself too much with mortal affairs, and you think on them too little!” I ask what she means, and she answers, “Eyes in the darkened tomb say Addock’s flesh is sweet as morning rain. No poison in his veins! Not from food or drink. Something darker did that deed!”
“Interesting,” I mutter to myself, and bid her good morrow. I step to my feet, and as I look back where she was seated, she’s there no more. So I find myself walking towards the necropolis rather than my own lodging. I purchase some flowers for Joan’s memorial, she was interred in one of the public crypts. After placing the flowers before her market, I begin strolling around. There are few visitors this late. Rumors of ghosts and other restless spirits keep most people at bay. Patrols keep the riffraff out, but I happen to notice the crypt of the Addock family and start to wonder if there might be an easy way to get inside.
Looking around, I realize there is nobody nearby at the moment, so I slip into the shadows and start checking out the door, the statuary and other features looking for a way to unlock the crypt. Unfortunately, I am unable to find any sort of secret button, and Joan’s lockpicks are nearly useless in my clumsy hands. I do see some rats coming and going from some sort of burrow at the side of the crypt, but there is no way I could crawl through that. And with magic shrinking me to the size of a rat, I certainly wouldn’t want to fight my way through their nest!
After a time, I give up, and return to my lodging. The streets seem oddly deserted though, and when I get to my apartment, there are no other tenants in the halls, no sounds from the other rooms. It seems very strange. I mutter a prayer for warning that the House of Guardians watch over me til dawn. Then I lie down to sleep.
Vingrow 8th, Sun Day-39 degrees, can feel wind on skin, leaves move a bit in the breeze.
On Sunday, I go to work as normal puzzling over the strange woman’s words. Even if Squire Addock was murdered, what good does knowing that do? Suddendly, my work is interrupted by a couple of well armed men with shackles and whips on their belts bursting into our shop. “Where are you hiding it!” they demand do know. The master asks what they are talking about, and they answer, “The goblin! The goblins slave that ran in here!” The Master Conlin protests that there are no goblins here, they take strained looks around the shop as the Master, his apprentices and I push the men outside. “It’s a crime to harbor an escaped slave you know!” the men holler back as they are forced to leave. I shrug my shoulders and get back to work.
A short time later, as I go to tighten a wheel we are shaping, I notice a half naked goblin hiding behind a pile of cut wood in the warehouse.
In goblin I say, “They are gone now. Why don’t you make yourself useful and earn some bread?”
The goblin jumps with a start, and then cowers farther back into the corner, obviously terrified and wringing her hands in her ragged dress. I toss her a piece of bread from what is supposed to be my lunch anyway. “Too bad you aren’t smaller. I’d have use for someone smaller.” I say.
She grabs the piece of bread and greedily devours it. “I can be very small,” she says with a gleam in her eyes, “skinny as a snake!” I give her another look, not really believing her. Then I warn her that I’ll be putting her words to the test, and that if she can do as she says, I’ll see her free. I then toss her the rest of my meal. She grins as she eats it.
After work, she squeezes in to a small wine cask, which I carry over my shoulder, and into the necropolis. While there are few people out this late, I am surprised to see someone climbing along a rooftop suddenly try to slip in through the window of a room below. Hope he gets caught, but I don’t!
In the cemetary, I find Addocks’ family crypt and set the casket down so my goblin helper can climb out. “Alright then…hmmm, what’s your name?” I ask. She tells me she is called Spiderbait. I figure I can ask about that later, “Okay, Spiderbait. I need to get inside this crypt. There is a rat warren back here, that somehow leads inside, plus the door. Here are some lockpicks, and a dagger…find a way in, and I’ll find a way to get you safely out of this city.”
She looks over the knife in her hand, and then gives me a puzzled look. “You gave me a weapon? What makes you think I won’t stab you?” I display the two blades in my own belt, and suggest I don’t think she’d be dumb enough to try.
She starts looking around the crypt. Then she tests the door with her lockpicks. Then she looks at the rat warren. “Some big rats have lived here,” she whistles. Then taking the knife in her teeth, gets down on the ground and starts to worm her way forward. First one shoulder pops, then another, as they are dislocated, and she starts to look almost like a snake, worming her way into the dirt.
Several minutes later, I hear a “click’ and the door of the crypt opens slightly. I pray to be warned if anyone else approaches the crypt, then slip through, and in the shadow see Spiderbait grinning from ear to ear. “They should have called you Snake!” I say. Giving her another bite to eat.
“Looking for treasure are you?” she asks, eagerly, her eyes gleaming with excitement. I tell her that I am looking for someone freshly buried to see if I can figure out whether he was poisoned or not. Her face sinks with dissapointment. Lighting a torch and looking around, it only takes us a couple of minutes to find the man. I see where rats have already begun to nibble on him as they have others, and slowly begin to remove his burial shroud. On seeing his corpse, it is obvious Squire Addock wasn’t poisoned. Or if he was, it didn’t matter in the least! His throat was slit from ear to ear so deeply his windpipe was nearly severed.
Spiderbait looks at the body, “Got him good, they did? Snuck up behind!” I nod, covering the corpse back up. I check his hands as well. The fingertips have already been chewed quite a bit, but in his right palm, strangely enough, is a partial glob of wax. A crushed, half melted candle for the wick is still in it! The dead skin is a little more red around it, as it must have been hot when the candle was grabbed, but strangest of all is the partial imprint of a signet ring! The part that is visible is from the mark of the Estkap family!
I break off the piece of wax to take with me. Careful not to destroy it, and even more careful to leave the outer edge on the corpses hand, so it can be proven to have come from his own grip!
I rewrap the hands, and we quietly leave the tomb. Spiderbait gets back into the casket and I carry her home to my lodging. I lay out my cloak and one of my blankets for her to sleep on. Then muttering a prayer that I be warned of any betrayal, lie down to sleep.
A few hours later, as she opens the window to slip outside, I tell her, in goblin, “If they catch you, its back to the farms or mines wherever they were taking you. But at least this way, I don’t have to bother keeping my word to you.”
She slumps back down into the room, closing the window. “You keep promise to let me go?” she asks. I tell her that I have to, otherwise my promises aren’t worth anything to anyone.
Vingrow 9th, Moon Day-39 degrees, windy with leaves and small twigs in constant motion, flags extended.
I wake the next morning to find her snorting by the window, obviously having looked out at the moons and stars all night. “You wait here today. I know the sunlight hurts, but I’ve got food and water here for you sit tight, while I go tell a friend what we found in the crypt. I’ll be back later. Stay out of trouble!”
I take the wax and head to the baker’s guild to find Ida Cholmond, who gave me a suit of armor ane expressed her disdain of the nobility. Arriving at the guild hall, I inform a servant of who I am and that I would like to speak with the guildmaster. A short time later, I am invited inside.
“What can I do for you, Piotr Trollscar, shame of knights?” she asks with a grin on her face. I set the piece o wax down on her desk, and she gives me a confused look.
“Magistrate Addock was murdered, his throat slit ear to ear…not poisoned. I broke into his crypt, examined his body, found this half melted candle in his hand…as you can see, it has a portion of of the Estkap crest imprinted in the wax, as though he smeared it on his attacker’s signet ring as the wax was melting. Did nobody examine his body? No family?” I ask.
“Well, isn’t this interesting?” she muses, “The new magistrate, of course, examined the scene and the corpse. Then they arrested Maylo Klenik saying he was poisoned, quickly burying him in his family’s crypt…the only known member of his bloodline remaining, so no kin could object. And they threw the physician in jail, where nobody has been able to speak with her. You say, the wound is plain as day on the corpse?” I nod and explain in detal how Spiderbait and I entered and investigated the crypt. She asks if she can keep the lump of wax, and I agree to let her have it. I ask what she’s going to do, but she simply shrugs her shoulders. “Go home. It’s best if you avoid the necropolis or any discussion of this topic. Little fish are easily devoured by big fish if they are noticed.” She winks at me with that.
I head in to work, and spend the rest of the day fletching arrows and crafting wagon wheels and tool handles.
That evening, I return to the garden, and the treewoman appears in her branch. “You were right about Lord Addock,” I whisper. “I found proof of what happened and passed it on to someone who can do something about it.” The dryad seems pleased at my efforts, and says that she is looking forward to true justice being served. I nod my assent.
Vingrow 10-13th, Gods Day-38 degrees, windy with leaves and small twigs in constant motion, flags extended.
The next few days pass uneventfully. Spiderbait grows increasingly restless, but I encourage her to wait just a bit longer. I in turn eagerly anticipate the Guilds taking some action to bring the truth to life, but on the 13th, the gallows are opened up and the bells ring to draw people to the spectacle of a public execution. Like everyone else, I go to watch the event, eager to see what the guilds do to prevent it.
I see several people in the crowd who I recognize from around town, Mistress Ida with some of the other guild masters, the High Chaplain, my own colleagues. Almost everyone is here to watch the sentencing and execution. Captain Deserat reads out the charges of murder that have been levied against to common criminals, and then the charges against Maylo Klenik, the charge of treason against her father, who can barely stand and has to be dragged to the gallows, and then a charge of conspiracy to foment rebellion against Ida Chotham! As those words leave the Captain’s mouth, two men near her throw back their cloaks, revealing their guard uniforms, shove her to the ground, and with a nod from the captain, take her head on the spot! Right there in the crowd! There is an audible gasp from the assembled masses! The other guildmasters all back away, with terror in their eyes. Then the gallows drop, and those sentenced to death are left dancing in the air. “The law shall be respected!” Captain Deserat announces, and Baron Estkap, who oversees the proceeedings nods solemnly.
I slipped away from the crowd as the audience dispersed, and went back to my room. “Get in the casket, Spiderbait, it is time to go!” I say. The goblin eagerly climbs inside, and I retrieve my horses to leave town. As we are leaving town, a man carrying some lumber bumps into me, but fortunately, I don’t drop the cask with the goblin in it.
Soon, we are travelling west, towards wilder, less “civilized” lands. On the other side of the Bleak Bog is the Thornwild…part of the Goblin Lands we call the Dire Woods.
We travel most of the day. I am riding Shayla, Karrot is in tow with Spiderbait sitting atop her saddle, with a look of frightened amusement on the little goblin’s face. “So high up!” she says gleefully, holding tightly to the saddlehorn. “Tall as a troll!”
We hear some riders galloping quickly our way. They’ll soon overtake us, but when I see the baron’s livery on them, I realize there is little point in trying to outride them. Not with a goblin in tow. Plus, only a wanted criminal will flee. If they pass by, it is a curiousity. If they stop, we’ll have words, and hopefully nothing more.
Sure enough, they stop, and I see the squadron is led by Captain Deserant himself. “Trollscar!” he says with the haughty confidence of a man used to command, “strange company you keep!” he notes, glancing at the goblin. “Do you know why I am here?” I suggest that he must be on patrol or something, he laughs, and signals his men to fall back a bit while he and I ride together alone. “The Guildmaster Ida Chothom was a traitor… and you were one of the last people to speak with her before her crime was discovered. Some have suggested you conspired with her to overthrow our lordship.” He looks at me, somewhat sympathetically, “Surely that cannot be the case?” I tell him that I was merely thanking her for this gift of armor she gave me for my role in saving her kin at the Battle of Tellog. In a harsh whisper, he warns me, “Never suggest your meeting was anything other than that. Forget everything else you told her, or she told you, what you have seen, heard, discovered or suspect, and I won’t have to hang you for treason. I like you. You are a good soldier. Don’t make yourself my lord’s enemy.” I nod my understanding. “Safe travels friend!” he says cheerily, as he turns and leads his men south at high speed as though on some sort of training exercise.
“Bad man!” Spiderbait says as he rides off. I shake my head and say that he’s just following his orders, and giving me a chance to avoid the hangman’s noose. She scowls.
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