Bern
The first order of business in Fort Vulgar was to collect the information we had paid for concerning the Pillar of Ambule. The local priest had dutifully collected it for us. According to the records he had found, Ambule is a local God of earth, protection and good fortune. His symbol is a single black hexagonal eye. Ambule is reported to make pacts in return for protection from hags and other creatures, and those pacts apparently involve service for life. If the service is not granted, the soul will be collected. The details of these pacts and what collecting the soul might mean, aside from the obvious, death, was not clear. Most of this information came by way of another priest called Haymen, who had once lived on the northern shores of Lake Longmere. From the age of the records, that was some time ago, and that particular priest was unlikely to still be alive.
The priest at St Dougan suggested we head south and inquire about more details at the capital city Of Dolmenwood, known as Brackenwold. However, his attitude suggested that acquiring more information would be expensive. And my wallet was getting flat. The alternative would be to head north, near Lake Longmere, and make further inquiries there among people who might actually know of Ambule or even be worshippers. If this deity is truly a God of earth and protection and good fortune, performing some small service on a regular basis might be a small price to pay for curing my curse and protection from hags. However, it is usually wise to inquire about the details before entering into such a bargain. I will remember that in the future.
Seeking an easy opportunity to fill our purses, we spoke with the local Lord Osric about problems he had been having with crookhorns raiding his shipping. He was amenable to us taking a trip up river on one of his boats, hoping to draw an attack from the bandits and slaughter them in return. He gave us the name of a boat, the Sleeping Willow, and a letter of introduction to her captain. We stayed the night at the Keep. Leaving poor Ignas out in the wilderness, guarding our more questionable possessions. I did think to send a messenger across the bridge to let her know what our plans were, but I had little confidence it would arrive. The messenger seemed shady.
In the morning we put out a call for local men at arms, hoping to bolster our numbers. We found two. The more prepared of them had chain and shield, and called himself Algash. The other had no armor, and merely a club and dagger for weapons. We hired both at 4gp per day (total), expecting that it would be a short trip, and arranged with the captain to pick up Ignas on the eastern side of the river.
The captain of the Sleeping Willow told us a little bit about what he expected. The bandits normally set up their toll collection on a bridge that crossed the river, making it difficult for boats to pass. A road on the Western bank led up to the bridge, but on the eastern bank, it was only a forest trail, barely worthy of a bridge at all. Perhaps some time ago it had seen more traffic.
We arranged with the captain to be dropped off on the western bank well before the bridge came in sight. Our plan would be to approach from land, and deal with the crookhorns there. u-Heury and I would approach in stealth to scout the situation, then return to coordinate plans with Ignis and the men at arms.
That part of the plan went smoothly, but when we approached the bridge, we saw a dozen crookhorns, led by an especially tall and strong specimen. He must have been at least seven feet tall. Luckily, the smaller ones were poorly armed and armored. u-Heury and I returned to Ignas and discussed our plans. She would call upon her god to hold the leader in place and prevent him interfering while we attacked with missile weapons from cover. A blessing from Ignas would tilt the odds further in our favor.
If their leader managed to resist her magic, however, that could complicate things. There is no telling what he would be capable of. However, should they reach melee range, our two men at arms might provide an unpleasant surprise. With luck, and our 5 blades, we could likely prevail.Unfortunately, Lord Osric had given us no way to positively identify the particular crookhorn’s head he wanted. It’s not like they wear name tags. We resolved to bring him the head of the big one and call it done.
On a positive note, my withered arm has now fully healed. I look forward to fighting at my full strength once more.
