The Adventurer's Journal of Resu Cigam

The Border Kingdoms, A west march style adventure based in the lands of Faerûn. Part of
the Forgotten Realms campaign setting.

Adventurers League Journal | 03-05-901 DR

 Project Status Report: Day 2
A
man in his fifties should not be trekking around
the countryside like some damn fool adventurer.
That was a job for much younger men. Resu
longed for his personal study with his only
friends, leather-bound tomes. A spot of herbal
tea piping hot and his pipe freshly packed and
coal glowing. A blazing hearth to warm his
aching bones. Drawing him from his reveries, his abduction
and the final battle with the mysterious EYE haunted him.
Dismissing it with a shudder, Resu bent to the task at hand.
Today was the fifth day of the first tenday of Ches, the year
of 1494? Something nagged in the back of Resu's mind, thing
or things out of place, the garb and speech of the townsfolk of
Manywaters, his companions. It did not precisely fit.
The current year of 901 DR floated around the nether, ever
the taunting, yet elusive specter.
Field Status: At Risk
Rudely awakened with the jab of a boot-clad toe,
Resu stirred. Opening one eye, he glared at the
grinning rogue. Nasalt winked at him, "Tea and
crumpets sire?", in a girlish voice, role-playing a
maid or personal servant. Good natured laughter
mocked his slumber laden form. "Fools..."
grumbled Resu and painstakingly rose from the
warm bedroll. "Did you prank me? The rocks under
my pallet bruised and jabbed me all night..."
Belelor's deep voice teased, "Scholar, shall we keep
this fine traveling spellbook for you? I'm sure there
are additional arcane treasures to be had in the
basement. Sleep on, sweet prince!" [More
laughter...]
"Nasalt..." Resu warned, "I shall turn you into a
small rodent and the rest of them into housecats
if..." Unhindered by the wizard's threat, Nasalt's
smile grew ever the wider, eerily reminded Resu of
the Beholder's toothy maw. Resu trailed off and
grumbled. "Daylight is wasting!" urged the fighter.
The half-orc, Janus, was just finishing the long
process of donning his armor, strapping on his
remaining greave. Breaking their fast and carefully
rationing waterskins, each member of the party
completed their individual morning rituals in
preparation of the basement delve of the ominous
ancient keep.
Janus lead the way back in, through the foyer and
down the crumbling stone steps of the circular
stairwell. Every darker with each step, daylight
receded from human eyes to pitch black. Dim
shades of inkiness with gray highlights outlined
structures for the others with Darkvision.
Reaching the bowels of the keep, "Shirak"
intoned Resu and the orb grasped in his bony hand
gleamed arcanely with an eerie white light.
Illuminated shadows receded as the twenty-foot
beacon held them at bay. The basement branched
off in a tee, cautiously the heroes methodically
cleared the seemingly vacant dusty, mold clad
room off always to the west.
1 Aventurers League Journal | 03-05-901 DR
Heading back down the corridor east a series of
doors came into view, each paced a ways apart,
along the southern wall.
The first door creaked on its decrepit rust-scaled
hinges, as a party member peered within. Rasping
claws on stone and the shrill squeal of vermin
denote the unwelcomed assault of giant rats. "Rats,
why does it always have to be rats?!" complained
Torin. Grim nods in agreeance, the party leaped
into the melee. Resu incanted firebolt but the first
spell he ever learned, a cantrip really, faltered as the
foes were quickly dispatched.
Nasalt professionally checked each door for
traps. Several rooms and vermin later, Resu felt his
blood stir with Mystera's calling. "I'm actually
almost beginning to enjoy this!" he exclaimed to
himself. Now if the veterans would only give him
the opportunity to blast something! The party
cautiously explored the dank basement abode and
the drab, boringly vacant apartments. Rat
excrement and gnawed leavings are poor
recompenses. A final doorway down eastward
corridor presents its barrier to our brave lads.
Eagerness for plunder pushes aside caution, as the
preliminary search of the door, walls, and floor yield
no threats. The last thing the party recalls is
Nasalt's outstretched hand opening the door. A
rumbling of stones, nothingness, blackness, and
pain...
Pain. Choking. The struggle of breath. These
actions denote the awareness of self. As the dust
settles in the rubble-strewn hallway, an arm here,
an appendage there listlessly shifts as Resu's
lighted orb peeks through. Groans and gasping
indicate survival as the party slowly extracts
themselves from the ceiling's deadfall trap.
Battered and broken, yet clinging to life, some abet
barely as each struggle to regain their surroundings.
After long moments tick by our battered heroes
press on to the room beyond. A treasure room
beckons, inviting Belelor to cast a divination. No
magical auras present themselves to the warlocks
scrutiny. A small reward although is better I guess
than none at all. The thrifty fellow decides to spend
the rest of the spell duration giving the rest of the
basement a quick once-over. The first room of the
cellar we previously visited betrays a moderate
dweomer. Using the arcane skills taught to me as a
young apprentice, I quickly determine the aura to
be a magical blind of illusion, cloaking the far
corner of the dust-ladened room. The entire party
is mesmerized by the hoard of treasure contained
therein. Our bulging pockets, pouches, and
backpacks can barely contain the vast amount of
platinum, gold and silver coin. Several vials glow
softly as well. Trinkets, baubles, semi-precious
gemstones tease pleasingly. Each shoves as much
as they can hold for safe keeping and for sale back
in Manywaters.
As the ghost of the woman slain in centuries
past does not reappear to our heroes, her vistage
and plight weigh heavily upon more than a few of
the party members.
Reverently, and with great care her remains are
retrieved for burial beneath a pleasantly shaded
tree outside of the keep overlooking the vale.
Wrapping the bones in the portrait found upstairs.
The beautiful human woman depicted puts the
adventurer's hearts at ease as they inter the
murdered victim. The hope that her soul may at last
find rest. Thoughts of the slain adventurer party
slain by the Beholder and the ghouls press deeply.
We almost had joined them. Would someone of
had the decency, if we were found, to recover us?
Doing the right thing, our brave lads collect the
fallen and prepare them for transport to
Manywaters.
As Basecamp is broken down, footlockers
secured and readied for the long haul back to the
lone bastion of civilization in the region of the
Border Kingdom. A soft ray of sunlight pierces the
cloud cover, warming our shoulders. Perhaps all is
not lost.
Torin the monk is as excited as I've ever seen
him. His eager grin, a boon to the spirit, on his
young face. His pace begins to outstrip the rest of
the party as we tread past the town gate, carefully
shouldering our burdens. "Hold Lad!" Janus asserts
firmly, "Duty first, then pleasure." Nodding in
obeyance, Torin relents and follows Janus and the
rest of us to Manywater's Temple. Within
Moonwind greets us pleasantly enough but her
face turns slightly crestfallen as she hears our grim
tale. Grimer yet as respectfully wrapped bundles are
placed on a low but wide table. "Do ye know of
their belonging, their weapons, and armor?"
Moonwind inquires. With some reluctance, some
more than others, the team gathers the fallen
adventurers' items and places them on the table.
"Blessings upon you Adventurers! You have done a
great deed this day. Those lost are now found and
may yet live again, Deities be praised." Bowing
reverently to each, Moonwind blesses and grants a
boon and bids them to depart with her grace.
Karma is a reward in itself, given their recent brush
with death.
With their souls lifted with great deeds done, the
party basks in the rewards of visiting the vendors of
Manywaters, a small but definitive jump in the local
economy. Dreams of new land, a child's tuition
paid for, medieval dentistry creating youthful
smiles fills the thoughts of many a merchants'
mind townwide in light of the spending spree.
Regrouping at the nearest tavern, our parched
fellows celebrate over a cold and foamy tankard.
Janus boasts as they clank beverages together,
"Now THAT was an adventure!" Onlookers gaped
in wonder, and the townsfolk went about their
business as usual in the establishment. "Now that
keep is cleared, we should consider fortifying and
hiring guards!", he exclaimed. While the windfall
was indeed mighty, sadly it was not as grand to
finance such a venture. That would take many an
adventure more, but a plan for the future
nonetheless.

Aventurers League Journal | 03-05-901 DR 2