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Post by Yeti on Dec 15, 2014 22:57:09 GMT -5
Garlu, the last city before the Northern Wastes they say. When one sees Garlu for the first time they will laugh at that statement, at least until they realize it is the last bit of civilization here on the frontier of the Northern Waste. A settlement of a few hundred people with a wooden palisade.
This is where everyone escaped their previous lives to begin anew. And as such it grew to quite the contrary of border towns, they accepted everyone except that of bounty hunters. Everyone was given a second chance in Garlu. It is here many of the Northern tribes would come to trade for things that could not be found on the open tundras where they lived paying with the furs of the great creatures of the North.
This is where Nicolas Chorster grew up. Raised by his mother, he never truly wanted for anything and he never thought of how they supported themselves. But it was upon her deathbed when he was about sixteen years of age that he learned of his father. A fallen paladin of Heironeous, she told him of how she was forced to take him down when he turned on his party falling to the manipulations of some dark evil. She gave him the armor that he still wears to this day.
It was as he fitted the armor he could feel a warmth flowing through him. It would fall to him to redeem his father's name in his travels to come.
Close to his eighteenth birthday a large barbarian woman came into town boasting she could best any man before her. She was traveling South to see the world as a strong woman like her couldn't advance in her own tribe. Her name was Imzel, offering to travel with her to the South she seemed suspicious of him and his ability to call upon magic. But accepting that his was the magic of the gods and not that of the black sorcery her people feared.
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Post by Yeti on Jan 29, 2015 15:52:13 GMT -5
The Journal of Nicolas Chorster
The North is a harsh unforgiving land, yet my companion seems most at home in it. Our travels Southward leaves her apprehensive over beliefs. Only time has gotten her to accept the miracles of the Heironeous that I perform. She has taken me to be a form of a shaman or something. Time will tell as I teach her the ways of the men of the Southlands, though trying to get her to not call them milk drinkers will take some doing. I fear her only wanting men that can best her in combat will earn us our fair share of brawls.
We've been weeks on the trail Southward. She has learned to trust my magic more as she has felt it's healing touch when a snow leopard nearly gored her with a claw swipe before she brought her great sword down upon its neck.
I think she wants to test her strength against me, as she asked why I have never challenged her. At first she was angry when I said I wasn't interested in challenging her to bed her. But she took my explanation of a friend never feels the need to challenge their friends to heart. The question hasn't arisen again between us.
It was Zenbridge that we came across for our first town as we traveled along. As we came into town we could see some were picking on this lumbering ox of a man, it was obvious he wasn't the brightest of individuals and must have been a gentle giant in his own right as he could have probably squashed those picking on him without breaking a sweat.
Imzel took it upon herself to introduce herself to the ox by kissing full on the lips when his 'friends' dared him to make a pass at her.
Our time at the lone tavern in Zenbridge only reinforced my opinion of the town on our first encounter. It was one of despots and mean spirited folks with very few exceptions.
While here a man, named Alaric approached us. He looked to have some of the elven blood in his veins from his distinctive sharper ears. He has hired us to retrieve a gem for him, anything else we find is ours to keep.
We ended up signing the slow man with us, I've learned his name is Toby. He is a ward of the church here, apparently their 'goblin-killer'. I will be happy to leave this cesspool of a town sending men like Toby to their death without a care.
A day out of town we found ourselves at a 'toll-gate' of sorts. To not have trouble with bandits they weren't asking for much in the way of coin, but when they mentioned taking Imzel in trade. Well I couldn't stand for that, I think it shocked even her when I snapped my flail to hand and flattened the man's face in with it before he could utter another word. We were able to make short work of them, freeing their 'slaves' residents of the farmhouses here.
According to our map we still had over a week to get to the location of the hobgoblin lair that contained the gem. So we began the cross country portion of our journey.
It was on our eighth day that we could smell that of a fire cooking a meat of some sort.
Sneaking up we found a Hill Giant beginning cooking his supper. Nodding to the others we quickly moved to attack. It didn't take us long as we caught the beast by surprise. But his bag held its own surprise, that of ancient elven gold coins. There was a city mark on one side and that of an elven female on the other.
Day ten found us running into a hobgoblin patrol, we were able to beat them but it was a hard fought battle. Retreating back some we setup camp, it was than that in the middle of the night that we were besieged by a horde of the hobgoblins.
We awoke to Alaric pouring healing potions into us, mumbling something about having to protect his investments.
We retreated from the area, heading to Falcrest. A small trading hub of a town, with maybe fifteen hundred souls. Here we recruited more to help us assault the hobgoblin lair.
Jacob Marley, a young lad of fourteen winters he was a young acolyte at the local church to Heironeous. I had to buy him some better gear, but he is eager to learn.
Sigfrey, a grizzled older veteran of the town militia. Hoping to make a bit of good coin before he gets too old to work his family's fields.
Otter, this was Imzel's doing. Gods the man stunk, I'd wager he bathes less than Imzel does. But he looks like he could handle himself in a fight.
And the Lady Margos, she seemed to know Alaric already. A mage of some sort, I told her to pretend she was a Priestess of Boccob to appease Imzel's sensibilities.
Well it went over like warm turds on the snow when Alaric learned of Margos joining us.
While we traveled we camped a couple of days out learning more of Margos and Alaric's relationship. The more I learned of the woman the less I liked her.
I awoke one morning to find only Jacob, Sigfrey and myself left in camp. Nothing looked disturbed, just the others missing.
We packed the camp and began our return to Falcrest leaving sign at our campsite that we returned to town that I knew Imzel could spot.
The others found us three days later in town with tales visiting Asgard, the lands of the Norse Gods. Imzel told me of her battle with the Brothers Three and subsequent activities she participated in.
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