The Fall of Brinewall Castle

Entry: Shalalu’s Tales on the Trail

It has been years since I have been this far north. The wilderness of northern Varisia has a certain feral calm, dangerous predators stalk the sea driven mists but a sense of self can be found here. And yet, a place that I once found much in common with, is now cold and lonely.

Looking upon the grey silhouette of Brinewall Castle, I realized that it was a representation of what many had called me over the years. Cold, hard, forlorn and distant. I hate this place, it is not what I want to be.

Ameiko, my closest friend, lies unconscious in her wagon. She has fallen to something I cannot fight. That castle houses evil though, and that I can fight. This castle stood alone, thinking it was impenetrable, but it fell to many. Strength is in numbers and as the cold ocean wind whips at my clothes, for the first time, I do not stand alone. This castle will fall again.

The abandoned and destroyed village gave up very few secrets of its destruction as we searched, the only recent sign of life was a recently destroyed Ulfen longship. The cemetery however was truly a surprise. Beautifully kept hedges and graves stood in stark contrast to the ruined village and the meeting of the very strange but excitable follower of the Goddess, Desna. My hope for Ameiko has risen as the sprite like creature called Spivey has agreed to attend her. I pray Desna’s power will flow back to my friend.

The castle wall defenders, Corbies, foul twisted humanoid ravens fell quickly to our stealthy attack. Luthien and Theibar’s speed in scaling the walls was impressive while Athebryn and myself peppered the walls with arrows. Before long, two ogre-kin and several more corbies fell to attack. Though focused, I cannot help but feel proud as I watch my sister and once student down enemy after enemy.

Breaking into the castle, I can honestly say that none of us were expecting to bear witness to a bizarre play. Five corbies jumped and spun through the castle’s long hall. Watching on from the throne sat a red faced man with a prodigious nose. Caring little for our presence, he demanded we sit and watch his masterful play. As with all good theatre I have seen, it ended in violence. However, we were not quick enough to capture the fleeing madman. If that was not a curse enough, Athebryn found a small rapier that seemed to sing and hum through the air. Desna help us.

The tragedy and violence that visited this castle all those years ago is still evident. Dull bloodstains, gouges in the stonework and lastly, the unquiet voices who lost their lives. Rage and loss have seeped into these walls and seems to know little the difference of friend and foe.

Dwelling on the lost would have to wait though as we stumbled on another tragedy. The Seven Swords foolishly followed us here and had come across the mightiest ogre I have seen in my years of wandering. The female ogre had already torn three of the members apart before we got there and only Matsuro, their idiot of a leader, was still standing. For a moment anyway. With him helpfully unconscious, we entered the fray. I wish I had covered my ears that day for as soon as she saw us elves, her rage was solely focused on us. It is hard to roll with a blow when it feels like a tree hitting you. And yet she fell, not to arrow or elf, but to the stabbing tenacity of an angry gnome. A loud, overly-talkative, way too bright gnome who now has my total respect. I just cannot ever tell him that.

With the Matsuro returned to camp, we continued our search. Corbies, corbie priestesses, undead and even a giant mobat fell before us. Our momentum only halted by a strange harpy. Seemingly educated and less bestial then others I have fought, she offered up the red-faced man, one she revealed to be responsible for the slaughter of the village all those years ago. His name is Kikonu and he is a demon. Despite my better judgement, we agreed and the Tengu Lord fell to our might. His last ounce of evil reserved for his onetime lover, he stole the harpy’s voice and sang as he died.

The castle’s rage simmered, a weight of anguish seemingly gone and when we returned the following morning, the place was all but deserted. The dungeons were our only unexplored area and it turned out to be the most important.

I am impressed with my sister’s temperance as I would not have allowed the ogre jailor to walk away. After what we grew up in, if she can feel pity for such a creature then maybe she can help me. Maybe my “younger sister” has grown up and matured more than I have.

The ogre’s prisoner was not what I was expecting. A tall, powerful blond woman with a piercing gaze stood stoically, to proud to ask for freedom. She represents everything I believe of the Linnorm Lands and I believed her whole-heartedly when she said she would lend her strength to ours. I am glad she did.

Following the shimmering appearance of Pharasma, mistress of the dead, we were ambushed by a creature from the very depths of nightmares. A tentacled horror from the far realms, a “child” of Pazazu, the Bird Demon had been hidden away for countless centuries underneath the castle. The last thing I remember of that fight was Kelda, the warrior Ulfen woman screaming a battle challenge and leaping of the ridge above onto the beast. Then only darkness and pain as I was impaled on a stalactite.

By time I awoke, in the surprisingly soft arms of Kelda, Luthien, Theibar and Athebryn had found a hidden treasure chamber where Ameiko’s decedents had left their legacy. I sensed it when the ancient box was opened and the ensuing vision was nothing I could have ever imagined.

“Insert Vision”

Ameiko, friendly, loud, brash and charming Ameiko is an Empress?? My friends, my sister, now heirs to an Empire. Looking at Kelda, we both nodded. Neither of us had been chosen as a future heir, no, our destiny was much more important. We had been chosen to guard and guide our friends to theirs against an overwhelming and mysterious enemy. I have a focus now, a reason to move on. I will see these legendary lands and I will carve a clear path to the throne for my loved ones. Well, maybe not the gnome, no point getting too far ahead of ourselves.

Now, time to have a chat with Ameiko’s wayward brother………..

Entry: Athebryn’s Tales of Valour

Come sit ye all and hear another fable of the bravery of Athebryn’s troupe, in “Ravenmoore or less”.

Having brought much merryment and joy to Galduria, it were not a surprise to our traveling band to be approached by a young and confused representative of Maginmar. When she deflected her attention from the lavishing Elven and delectable Feyward and solely spoke to Sandru were could on surmise what was said;

“Lord, oh lord, bound by muscle and musk; please save my woeful brother-in-law and bring back the fruits of the government, oh please, please…”

The band shocked at our trader being called Lord, were quick to ask questions, and with a few quick responses, incentives and without much ado, set off to help the damsel by finding her unsoberly relative last seen heading to Ravenmoore.

While there was a stop along the way, it was hardly worth the scratch. The town plagued by weren creatures, was much more heavily affected by a distinct case of insipidity. While were tried to share our talents, unfortunately to any tune requires an ear, and to any dance requires a beat, and the people of this place lacked facilities.

Arriving at Ravenmoore our troupe had to divide sending a small group in. A small, dark and deathly path hugged and rubbed the Quintet as they made their way in; near the end they were met by a simple child and his beloved pet, a grotesque oversized mosquito, which would foreshadow the events to come.

The town folk were simple, and amazed at such magical creatures as “Elves” and “Gnomes”, though we must not laugh, for their dark pathways have left them isolated and their Family hierarchies most likely looked more like the weave of a fabric than a tree. Lucky for the Quintet though, the simple folk were welcoming and celebrating good harvest, pulling in the travelers to participate.

The brave and wisdom filled Koya was very unsettled in the small village, their worship of Desna was questionable, deviated by years of isolation. When having a wrestle with a pig, the rest of the group shared Koya’s concern – the pig burst into a demonic plant and cause quite a the damage to our hero Athebryn, and his companions.

Having saved the town yet again we returned for some well deserved rest. In the dark of night the “not so bashful with the ladies” Theibar set off a call of great distress. Having been lured into the fields by the beauty of the town, he was ambushed by her parents. He defended himself well smiting one of his attackers but was ultimately poisoned by the pretty vixen’s betraying blade.

The heroic group came and saved Theibar from the vixen and remaining parent he had yet to rightly smite. Once healed Theibar jumped into action with the rest of the group as the onslaut of a blood thirsty cult began! You see, while the variation on Desna worshipping was a quirk for most in the city, for many it was a guise to hide their true worship of the evil demi-god [what’s his face].

Having destroyed a hay creation of evil, an old lady weaver who appeared as a weaver of 8 legs, the group entered a decrepit house where the Elves defeated three cultists, and the wayward and Lord grounded some winged bloodsuckers. Inside the house the group found dark paraphernalia, confirming the deviation of the small town. Attacked by some 3 deformed monsters, they were yet again ovecome by our mini-army, opening the pathway ahead.

Leading further into the fields, the fields became thick and dark, filled with insects, cobwebs and evil. After another fight with a glutenous monster, our group came to clearing, filled with 26 or so worshippers wearing clocks of mosquitos, while chanting towards the corrupt major, donning cloaks of dispair.

The agely Koya was quick to provide support as the team took on this great of foes. The mayor, using the hexful blessings of his evil lord, attacked with lightening and froze Lord Sandru. Unfortunate for Official of evil, Athebryn and Luthien got to his sides and gave him the beating his mother should have given him as a child. and with one final action Theibar shot an arrow of true justice, into the neck of the no-longer major.

Horay for our gang! But, oh, what is this? The cloaked cultusts let our a horrendous scream as the mosquitoes drain the life from them, and start forming a dark creature. The gloomy sky starts to pull down to the deformed figure – Smash! – Theirbar quick witted throws a, un light bomb at the formation – Splash! – Luthien drenches it in oil – Click! – And with a click of Athebryn’s fingers the formation is alight, reeling in agony.

With a few decisive actions, the last of the life was taken from the humanoid mosquito, and it lied defeated at the feet of our hero’s.

Upon further investigation of the dead bodies, and evil worhipping ground, the remains of the Brother-in-law of Magnimar were found. It would seem that his intoxicated ramblings and questionable ways were not the cause of missing taxes, but instead his sacrafice by a cultist group. We gathered sentimental pieces to bring back to the family so they could greive the lost, and collected the taxes to put the small town in good stead.

Having saved Ravenmoore from it’s dark secret, the group put in motion the rebuilding of the village’s religion, the pretty vixen promised to assist in the rebuilding of Desna’s church and we left them to their devices.

So Ravenmoore or less? Well in that one fateful and cleansing night, the town of Ravenmore lost over a quarter of it’s inhabitants, taking it from more to less. With many key heads being a part of the cult in order to bring them good crops, it’s anyone’s guess as to if they had enough people to sustain the town, or if they had enough crops to eat – chances are by now, there’s nothing left but the ghosts of those used to yield good crops quietly pushing around the unkept fields, waiting for a time when Desna’s true blessings will set them free into the clear and starry sky.

Entry: Athebryn’s Tales of Valour

After the recent travels in the soggy, smelly, lands outside Sandpoint, Athebryn and his rag tag team of followers managed to retrieve goods of great importance for the exotic lady, Ameiko.

Ameiko overcome with emotion, ran to Athebryn, and some others, and asked him if he would guide her to lost treasures hidden deep within the dead city of Brinestump. As to his good form, Athebryn declared his allegiance and plans were put forth to form a caravan of great courage, on the roster;

• Koya, aged with wisdom, her hands weave muffins but her vision sees the future
• Sandru, the mysterious trader, who keeps Koya youthful
• Shelalu, the only thing more pointed than her breif use of speech, is her well used sword
• Luthien, her decadent desires balances her deathly dances
• Theibar, his lion like nobility matches his wolf like senses
• Ameiko, the exotic songstress who lusts for more life
• And Athebryn, the Spritely feyward who makes his own good fortune

Around a table filled with food and drink, they put their plan into action, and without much trouble had set the time for their departure from Sandpoint.

There was but one last little task that the Spritely and the Decadent, before departure, had to do, best explained in song;

The seven swords were so engorged,
Their feats of bread and butter
They spread throughout the neighborhood,
neigh deserv’d of the mutter.

With Merryment and grand tales
Three swords stained the Dragon,
A dish of eleven-fey loave pie
to round off their false braggin.

T’was a bright and Spritely morn,
When should three swords awaken,
an image of beauty unattained,
he chases for her bacon…

“Ye-ouch” he swore upon that pie
as he laid alone and stark,
his manly sword, bent and swollen.
The Spritely’s punch is sharp!

Huddled he ran, shamed and crying
“Damn you elf ‘n’ gnome!”
The parting present, and final word,
Of heroes parting home.

After a brisk ride out of Sandpoint, with admirers so desperate to fairwell us they forgot their clothes and shot us a parting arrow of love, we were on our way to Brinestump.

Travelling the roads, many farmer and their spawn were caught like a trance to the beautifully decorated caravan, with colours so broad, that a peasant will always recall the day Athebryn’s “paint in motion” rode past. The elven folk may have caught an eye or two.

We took a short stop with some other caravans, where Luthien and Ameiko partook in some musical tutorage. Unfortunately Athebryn made the other caravans drool over the delectable dinner he made for our courageuos ensemble, so we thought it best to not tease, and continued forth until one night we were ‘ambushed’ by some unsightly human children.

Unfortunate for them, their skin was not made of steel and did not bare well against the elf’s tools, their colours painted the camp’s ground. Mercifully Athebryn suggested they leave their tools of mistrade, and with the help of Luthien and Koya, they were convinced of less cowardly ways.

Arriving in Galduria, it was clear the townsfolk swelled with anticipation, while they were yet to know Athebryn, they could sense great things ahead. The caravan split off to make various purchases, and sellings, the spritely sold his stories of both mouth and eye to good value. Theibar’s furs where as well recieved as his curoius silk table, and Ameiko and Luthien’s performance was loved by all the town.

To glaze the first leg of adventure, Ameiko took the travellors to the night defying fish of Galduria, and as tired courageous bunch watched the graceful forms of the salamandor, Koya read of a great future and good health, dressing the next leg of the caravan’s voyage.

Entry: Ameiko’s Amazing Ballads

My plan to convince my friends to return to the Brinestump through copious amounts of alcohol had a fatal flaw, I drank way more than they did. I still have bruises from my candle chandelier bed. How did I even get up there?

Anyway, it was actually a good feeling to strap on the old armour and sword, though the brisk walk to the marsh did little to remove my hangover. It is still entertaining to see Shae get both confused and annoyed as she gets outpaced by the seeming dawdling Koya.

Once Shae and Koya split off to find the northern wreck and do some ingredient collecting, the rest of us made for the Old Fish Trail. Looking back, I am glad my senses were slightly dulled when we entered the swamp, of the all the places to go since my last adventure, this was not one of my best decisions. However, I must admit to feeling strangely safe with my company, good drinking friends don’t always make good traveling companions but these are good people.

The Brinestump is disgusting, for a such a small area, it is thick, fetid and the insects are huge but thankfully much of the marshiest spots were avoided in thanks to Theibar’s scouting skills. Shalelu has trained him well, he never hesitated and his keen eyes picked up every game trail or track.

I wish I had a chance to properly prove myself when we were (poorly) ambushed by some goblins, remnants of the Brinestump Tribe. One of the little wretches even had to gall to try and steal Athebryn’s prized hat. He seemed so upset about and I truly wished to retrieve it for him if not for the unfortunate meeting of riverbank and my face. However, my companions dispatched the little terrors with precision that would have made Shalelu proud.

Finding my family ship was a bit more a shock than I thought it would be and it was with heavy heart that I laid to rest the un-quiet dead of the crew. Little was left of the ship but I am still glad I went, it would have been glorious in its day.

The return trip was only broken up by Shalelu (purposely?) driving the feared and legendary Soggy River Monster towards us. A foul, hairless beast that was quickly dropped by the onslaught of the group.

Seeing the ship has convinced me though, I want to go to Brinewall Castle and discover what almost caused the end of my family. What did my Grandfather know and who are these enemies he speaks off? This trip into the marsh has shown that I am blessed to be surrounded by good and skilled friends and acquittance’s. I hope they will want to travel with me for the trip is more than 500 miles and I do not know what to expect.

Entry: Theibar’s Journal

Day 1

I had been asked to escort master Shandru along the coast to Magnimar. this afforded me the opportunity to sell several of my furs and hides. With such a large community of tanners in Magnimar, I was forced to sell a number of my finer creations at a much reduced rate. Some creatures have no appreciation for the quality of elven crafts.

On our journey back towards Sandpoint, we were met by a Goblin adjacent the Brinestump marsh. I suspected an ambush, but much to madam Ameiko’s disappointment, there was no such event.

The goblin reported a mass of undead attacking their tribal camp. Evidence of a oriental lamp suggests that the goblins may have come across a Kaijitsu shipwreck. I suggested that we withdraw from our goblin company and discuss whather or not to investigate the issue.

Our return to Sandpoint was met by the rudeness of the Seven Swords company. Young Matsuro continues to amaze me with his idiocy and disrespect. There were high hopes for that child, alas he has gone the path of many human males, lined with pointless bravado. Perhaps he should join us as we venture into the Brinestump marsh tomorrow. It would be ever so unfortunate for him to fall folly to one of the many treacheries the marsh has to offer.

My sympathies fall to madam Ameiko for having such detestable kin. Though I am amused by her methods of handling her sibling. She is an admirable human.

I still believe that Luthien holds some contempt for my distant relationship with Shalelu. I wonder if she realises that Shalelu is a methodical in her teachings as a dwarven miner: consistently hitting the point until the indentation is made, with little time for idol chatter. Aside from my observations of Shalelu’s behaviours and idiosyncrasies, I believe Luthien knows more of what is in her heart than I do.

And finally to Athebryn, who can always be counted upon to break the awkward silence with awkward gnome foolishness. I fear that he may end up putting himself on the wrong end of the Sword’s graces.

Day 2

It was a late start, this morning. Luthien and Athebryn did not arrive at the Rusty Dragon until well after sun rise. Lady Koya had heard of our intentions to venture into the Brimestump Marsh and she kindly prepared packed meals and morning tea, though for some, it was breakfast.

It was a pleasant walk towards the Marsh. We passed a number of travellers as the morning traders began to their trek to and through Sandpoint.

We arrived at the Marsh and signalled to our goblin guide known as Scribbleface. The trip into the Marsh was slow. It has been a time since I have travelled in the wilderness with gnome companion. The leisurely stroll through the marsh allowed for peaceful observation of the natural surroundings. I was conscious of Athebryn’s movements, with concern that he may fall victim to one of the Marsh’s hungry inhabitants who may mistake him as a breakfast morsel.

Scribbleface escorted us to the Licktoad fort. He had previously indicated to us that these Licktoad grounds had been attacked by a score of Undead. The main purpose of our visit to the fort was to investigate these claims. Applying our stealth skills, we approached the seemingly deserted fort. There was clear evidence of an Undead presence but it appeared that they had since departed. Luthien and I began to search the grounds as we suspected a number of the goblin inhabitants were concealing themselves. Scribbleface refused to enter the fort.

As we approached the upper walkways, we were alarmed by the launch of a firework that came from Scribbleface’s direction. It seemed that we had been duped into an ambush. It was obvious that the wretched Scribbleface has intended to use the Undead attack on the Licktoads to lure us into the fort where he would force a confrontation between us and the Licktoads.

Alarmed, I hastily moved back towards Scribbleface’s position in order to detain the filthy creature, however at Luthien’s observation, it seemed we were blocked from his position by magical brambles. It baffles me that a creature as seemingly primitive and vile as a Goblin could deceive us into doing his bidding and possessed the higher comprehensions to utilise the magical arts.

A stirring from within the fort produced a number of goblins who began to advance on Luthien and Abethryn’s position. From my vantage point, it seemed Luthien initiated the first strike. I was later informed that her intent was simply to push back the advance, yet poor timing resulted in a forceful blow, as opposed to a gentle shove (rolling a natural 1 to push back the enemy). Thinking quickly, Athebryn applied his bardic skills and performed a tune of slumber, which only partially affected the goblins approaching their position.

Concerned that Scribbleface would draw more than goblin attention to our position, I managed to volt the fort’s outer walls. Surprised by my advancement, he launched magical force into my chest, winding me. I freely admit that by this point I was enraged. A combination of anger and guilt for the dishonour that I had brought upon Master Shalelu’s teachings clouded my apparent judgement and self-control. In an attempt to simply wound the creature, I did not take into consideration the lethality of my Elven blade. In a swift strike, I decapitated Scribbleface (rolled natural 20 with confirmed crit damage).

Meanwhile, Luthien had managed to capture one of the goblins who had initially threatened her position. I re-joined my companions, with Scribbleface’s head in hand. Using her new captive, Luthien persuaded our entry into the chieftain’s chambers. Apparently the price for our entry was the death Luthien’s captive. Goblins truly are one of the lowest forms of life.

Obviously we were unwelcome. The chief of the Licktoad tribe sat atop the most perplexing chair that seemed to defy the laws of physics. This wooden construct moaned and creaked under the enormous weight the goblin chief, whom spat his disjoined words at us. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Luthien managed to remark that she was the sister of their feared “Yellow Haired Demon”, clearly Shalelu, who is likely responsible for the majority of Licktoad death’s outside the creatures of the marsh. They attacked us.

Thinking quickly, Luthien dismounted the Licktoad chief from his throne and sent him crashing to the floor. Those that advanced upon Abethryn may have thought that they stood an even chance with the like-heighted gnome. Surprisingly, our small fey companion not only managed to cleanly knock one of his combatants unconscious, but he proceeded to eliminate two more goblin fiends. Not bad for a half-sized bard. Luthien and I systematically exterminated those who opposed us, while advancing on the chief. Despite managing to arm himself with a bow, he proved completely ineffectual, and Luthien had the satisfaction of ending him.

Once we had claimed evidence of our accomplishment of disposing of the Licktoad threat within the marsh, we searched the chieftain’s chambers. We discovered a number of Tian artefacts including a fan with a crudely drawn map of the Brinestump Marsh. At this point we decided to make our way towards the Halfling warden’s residence. This would hopefully afford us an opportunity to rest and perhaps bargain with warden for healing potions and supplies.

TBC…