Outcasts and Refugees

Session 13

Hugs may die, but Trolls may not. a.k.a. "The Open Road"

The party awoke the next morning, with their sights set on Amn. The trouble in Rivyet’s homeland superseded the immediate interest of other missions, and offered a valuable bargaining chip in what may come to pass.
It was upon their gathering in front of the monastery that Darcaryn, the ranger, approached them. She held a heavy head and told them, " Dearest comrades, I thank all of you for the security of our group as we sought our truths from the lady. I have decided to lay down my terror axe of Theradin at the final resting place of my love and tribe. But first I have some searching to do, both of the soul, and for the vile creatures that have destroyed my peace of mind. I may find work on the trade route through the North and seek some solace. Then , it is to be decided by fate. I have truly enjoyed your company."
She looked toward Aedric, admirably. “Warrior! good luck as you find your family legacy and secrets. Bonds were found between us at the greatest of odds. I hope to back you in warfare someday again.”
Aedric nodded, and the tiefling’s gaze met the dwarf’s awkward eyes, “Dvallin, your healing ways helped my survival and for that I thank you. You are a wise dwarf. Your humble and brave spirit will stay with me through the realms.”
Dvallin silently admired the respects payed to him, and finally, the ranger addressed the cold shouldered human in red, “Rivyet, I hope you find a resolve with your warring family and fulfill your destiny with these brave lads aside you.”
The ranger bowed her head, turned, and headed off the road, aimed northward. But there was no time to mourn the loss. Every hour of daylight was precious, as the days grew colder. So, the remaining adventurer’s were off. The plan; the city of Loudwater, where they could reappropriate their wealth and acquire passage, by land or sea, towards Amn.
The group made safe travel for two days, but upon entering the marshland, known as “the Smear”, things took a different turn.
The group spotted a large chest, half buried in a semi-shallow pool, along the path. Irresistible, the group laid a plan, in which the kobold, Skurg, would swim out and attach a rope to the chest, while the rest of them stood watch and attached the rope to Mykat’s saddle, Rivyet’s horse.
While Skurg attached the rope, Dvallin detected a rustling in the nearby brush that did not correspond with the faint wind. He alerted the group, just as a large, hulking figure emerged from the brush. A troll.
Overwhelmed, the group stood in confusion as the beast rushed toward the nearest intruder, Aedric, and slashed at him with it’s mighty claws.
Aedric was too quick though, and held his ground, blocking the attack with his shield.
The fight was on! Rivyet sent distracting blasts of arcane energy at the beast, while Skurg swam back to shore and assaulted the it with javelins. Dvallin uttered dwarven chants to seal the monster with a disadvantage from the gods. Aedric stood in the troll’s face and went sword against claw, until the beast finally reached out and grabbed the warrior, containing his threat.
It was about this time that Dvallin noticed a winged creature circling overhead. He also noticed that this troll was much skinnier and desperate in it’s actions, than those he’d read about, that normally travel in packs.
Then the rushing sound of air took form in their ears, along with a loud “Skreeeeeeeee!”.
A griffon, the winged creature overhead, swooped down and attacked the troll with it’s mighty claws. A third, impartial, party had joined the fray. As hungry as the beast it was attacking, clearly going for the biggest feedbag.
It allowed the party to drop the troll, as the griffon dug it’s beak in to feast on the monster’s flesh. They backed away, only to see the troll rise back to life and wrestle with the griffon. The party attacked again, downing the troll a second time. And the griffon dug in again.
This scenario repeated it’self several times before Dvallin recalled the details of the troll’s nature. Only fire or acid could truly slay the beast.
So with much reluctance, the party ran off the path, in retreat. Aedric even tried to speak to the griffon, to calm him, but the creature showed only temporary signs of obedience. So they all left the scene.
An hour wasted getting back on the road, the group found the next days journey safe and easy. The next day they passed the town of Lhork, which they passed, at Allendi‘s suggestion.
Loudwater was within reach, and the party managed to make it in the early evening. They were questioned by the wall’s guard, but their virtue was let pass and directed to a hot meal and bed.
They arrived at the Green Tankard Tavern and took a seat, after Dvallin convinced the dragonborn door-man that Skurg was not a threat nor vermin. Food and drink were ordered, and soon Dvallin would sit to count the groups earnings and divide it equally.
He did so quickly. So quickly that his hands couldn’t keep up with him, and he spilled a bit of coin, alerting the ladies at the adjacent table. An auburn haired human, with an eye patch, appeared to be the leader of this group. A half-elf, halfling, and another dark haired human made up the rest of her party.
The group rudely dismissed her at first, but after all treasure was collected and divided, a new comradery was developed, as Skurg learned the definition of “drunk”.
The talk of travel led to the inquisition of certain papers. An Amnian Writ of Passage, to which the woman, who introduced herself as “Barda the Bold”, knew much about. She offered the suggestion of a certain shop in Baldur’s Gate. “Vernon’s Press & Ink”, where one could mention their interest in “Bullywugs” and pass a sack of gold, for such papers. They may not pass the high inspection, but “they would keep the guard off yer arse, with the right disposition”.
With that bit of information, Barda and her party dismissed themselves, as they didn’t seem interested in running into the Knights in Silver, that were on their way to the city.
The party retired to their rooms, and awoke the next day. They sold their items of interest, aquired new items from the apothecary, and made many bargains with one another.
One such bargain was over a certain warhammer.
In the smithy of Loudwater, Dvallin wasd searching to finally arm himself. Trusting in Aedric to train his body to wield a weapon, he searched the displays of weapons. He brushed his hands across the hammers and axes on display. One seemed to tingle as he passed it, and on his completion of the inspection, it seemed that this one was meant to be.
It was, however, out of his price range. The smithy spoke highly of his tastes and of the weapon’s power. Dvallin knew it had to be his.
Skurg immediately threw in all his share of the gold from Spellgard, at his master’s disposal, but it still wasn’t enough.
Rivyet and Aedric conversed and decided to loan Dvallin the rest of the money.
The one request the dwarf had from the kind and proud smithy was, “can you cast this symbol upon the hammer’s head?”
“Aye”, the smithy responded. “Come back in two hours. You’ll have your weapon”.



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