Vessas' Journal

These are the journal entries my wife's character is creating for the Iron Kingdom RPG I'm DMing.

Excerpts from Vessas’ Journal

 (April)

                The moon rises high tonight; I stare at her through the flap of my tent. A breeze ruffles my head scarf; I tie it tighter before drawing the cards out of their bag. The cards whisper against one another as I shuffle them, I am waiting. They directed me to this place a fortnight ago, she will be here soon.

                Clop of hooves against the hard earth of the road, she is coming. A bridle jingles in the night and the musky smell of horses wafts through my door. I hear her jump to the ground, stride purposefully towards my tent. The flap is flung further back as a noblewoman enters. She recognized the sign painted on my wall, “Fortunes Read”. She sits before me, I hand her the deck, and no words are spoken. She knows this ritual.

                Quickly, three shuffles of the well-worn cards. A cut, two, she hands them back. The pattern unfolds before us, banishment from her homelands, a youth’s pride and arrogance, fortunes and dark dealings await. It will start with a gala, and her world will take a turn. Our paths will meet again on a muddy city street. With loss will come greater gain, her path will be revealed.

                She grins under the rim of her fur cap, she twists her signet ring around her finger as she thinks. Tossing a few coins on my table, she bows once and leaves. The bridle jingles once more, a yell, and the sounds of hooves growing ever fainter. In the silence of my tent, I blow out the lantern so that the light of my lady may shine down more fully. In her silver glow, I shuffle once again. Whisper, whisper says the cards, sliding back and forth in my hands. I lay out the pattern, frown at its direction. Scooping them back into their pouch, I break down my camp. I am needed, for a darker purpose than my calling normally dictates, but my lady calls, and I must answer.

                My blue skin pebbles in the cool night air. I tie my headscarf more tightly over my quills; make sure the bags are secure on my pack. I hike the pack onto my shoulders; I have a long walk ahead.  The sound of hooves no longer strikes the air, but I am following their path. Jutting my powerful jaw forward, I begin my walk. My path is laid before me and I must follow.

(May)

                 I have been in Midfast for three days. The air is full of the stench of humans and machines. The buildings are tall enough to block the transitory winds that would clear this foul odor, but my Lady leads me and I will not fail her. My tent I set up every evening on the outskirts of town. Each day I break it down and travel the roads, familiarize myself with its layout. I caught the noble woman coming out of a shady looking tavern, The Black Sheep. It is owned by her family, so she keeps the staff on their toes. Under her oversight, the inside has been scrubbed, the windows washed, the tables cleaned. She has too much pride to be known to own a filthy inn.

                Clapping a hand to my arm (she cannot reach my shoulder easily) she asks me to drink with her; there are things she wants to discuss. We enter the inn, take a meal in a private room. Sitting together, I am struck by the variances in our appearance. By all accounts, we are both females of our species, but whereas I am six foot tall, two hundred pounds of muscle and mass, she is a mere five foot and a few inches, more delicate and refined. I feel cramped in this space, but she fits is nicely. Curious.

                Natasha, as she is called, had just attended a gathering at the home of a friend in Five Fingers, down by the coast, and she had an odd experience there. Whilst the music played and dancers spun, a large group of merrymakers had suddenly turned and pulled firearms and explosives from their coats and boots and robbed all the nobles of their jewels. They had escaped, and while the loss of her diamond signet ring had stung, the exhilaration had been more powerful.

                Back home and while discussing her loss with her bartender, a drunken dwarf awakens from his stool. “I can track those bastards down and get your ring back,” he slurs into his ale. She wrinkles her nose in distaste, but offers him a healthy sum if he will follow through with his boast. A glimmering of an idea sparks into life in her skull and she waits for his return.

                Its two days later when she receives a missive from her man at the Inn, he bids her to come at her earliest convenience. Upon her arrival, the dwarf gives her a triumphant grin and hands her the ring that had been so recently taken from her. As promised, she pays the short man, but tells him to stay around, she may have more profitable work for him in the future.

                Her eyes are shining in excitement as she tells me her tale and I can see the cards spoke true. She speaks next of a bandit gang who has recently lost their leaders due to misfortune and predictability. There are four of the band left, a drunken Ogren, a disturbed Gobber with an unnatural attachment to goggles, and two Iosan, she isn’t sure of their history. She tells me she wants to meet with these thieves and take over their band. They have been camping in the mountains to the north of Midfast, right on the Khadoran border and she wishes to gather them together. Putting together a missive, she asks if I will travel into the mountains to find them. Even thieves generally leave my kind alone, and as my Goddess has told me to follow this woman, I accept her request with a promise to return as soon as I can. I pick up my pack and squeeze out the door. I look back at the smaller noblewoman, but her eyes gaze into the distance and her rebellion shines through her face in her glee.

               

                The winds are cool in this season and I welcome the fresh breeze as I put my back to the city. As the noise and bustle fades behind me, I feel my spirit grow in my heart. I am not one for large cities and constant noise of machines. Give me the Kriels and villages and I am whole. I will need to spend a long time at my own hearth when this adventure is done; I hope my Goddess gives me the time and leisure when she is done with me.

                Consulting the cards, I find where I am supposed to meet these cutthroats and I set up camp to wait. A day spent in meditation realigns my spirit and I wait for my wards to trip and tell me of my visitor. It is the Gobber who visits my tent, a small green creature, not anywhere as enduring as my whelplings at home. He slinks past my tent flap and sits at my table, glancing nervously about…

                “Do you have any goggles?” he asks quietly in a squeaky and grating voice. I shake my head solemnly and shuffled the cards, whisper, whisper… “Do you wish your fortunes read?” I ask, more out of curiosity than any desire to stay in his twitchy company. He nods and takes the cards gingerly from me. He shuffles quickly, cuts them, hands them back.

                Laying out the pattern I smile, the Lady is full of humor today. “The cards tell you of a summons, and good fortunes ahead, trouble that can avoided, but a new path to follow the old.”

                “A summons?” he squeaks derisively, “who would summon me?”

                I hand him the envelope from Natasha, “A benefactor who wishes to help your band in its time of need.” I rummage in my sack for the box. Pulling the small parcel out, I hand it to the little green man who eyes it and the letter suspiciously. “Take the letter to your elf friends, they will be most interested. The box is for you for doing this.” The gobber gives a hoot as he flings the pried lid out the door. A shiny pair of goggles sits nestled in the shredded paper. Pulling the leather strap around his head, he looks at me with large eyes magnified to ridiculous sizes, grinning a toothy grin. “As you say!” he stuffs the letter into his pack and darts out my door, scampering away into the twilight.

                I take a deep breath and smile, my Lady’s work is started, and as strange as this path may be, it will suit her purposes and that is all I can hope for.

(August)

                The Black Sheep is quiet tonight except for the sound of snoring that emanates from the large drunken ogren. The band sits around a large table, nestled toward the back of the common room. Natasha has been feeling out the strengths and weaknesses of the group over the first few heists. A gala was just interrupted yesterday by our band. It was a good haul, as these types tell it. They are still celebrating the take.

                A gobber runs to the elbow of our smallest party member. A lot of whispering commences, and he runs off again. The curious glances sent his way causes him to squeak out the message. The former leaders of the band are being hung this week. The grunt who was taken is still missing, but not to be hung. It doesn’t forebode well. The gobber wants to attempt a rescue, the elves seem dispassionate, the ogren sleeps. Natasha asks for a simple reading: the cards tell of death, disaster and challenge. We don’t reach a consensus, but Natasha orders the square to be mapped out, just in case it is to our advantage…

                The dwarf has gone to visit his friend who used to, and may still be, warden of the small jail here. He hopes to uncover some information about the missing grunt who is not on the list to be hung. There are two large events this week that Natasha has to prepare for: the hanging and a party. As the dwarf runs off for intelligence, and the elves and gobber scope out the main square where the gallows stand, she has decided that shopping is her best option for preparation. I have no assigned duties, so I make my way out in the hills for meditation and contemplation.

                In the afternoon, I make my way back into the crowded streets, back to the inn. The dwarf has just arrived and we adjourn to the secret basement to conclude our plans. It seems that the warden is the same man who used to drink with the dwarf. After liberating his tongue with liquor, the man tells him that the thieves were unforthcoming with information. Whatever secrets they held will follow them to their graves. Of the grunt, the Warden reveals his fortunes were purchased by a nobleman, a certain Calvin Middlin. After small talk, the dwarf takes his leave.

                The gobber and elves have scouted the square, but through conversation amongst them, they have decided to not pursue rescue. Natasha was against this from the start, but it is nice to have a consensus. The dwarf, the noblewoman and I will attend the hanging tomorrow, but only to see the final end of that cycle. It will be fitting to bid farewells, silently, to those who have cleared our paths, whether they know it or not.

                Natasha has decided this grunt, or Gareth as he is named, may be a threat. She wants more information about him, and Calvin who employs him. She doesn’t want any loose ends. Through the grapevine, she learns that Calvin is a rogue, often conducting affairs with married woman or their daughters, if they are available. His family owns sheep farms and weavers by the score, they supply this small kingdom of Ord with more than half the wool and linen they consume. He has never worked in his life, and though a dashing good looking fellow, by human standards, he has no talents. Considering his favorite pastimes of fornication with the spoken for, it’s amazing he still lives… This is explained by the fact that he employs talented duelists as his champions. This, we find, is where our mysterious Gareth Lochlan comes in. He’s a deadly shot with a pistol and once Calvin heard of him, he snatched him from the jaws of death to face his battles instead.

                None of these stories assuage Natasha’s fears. She has decided he must die. I have my doubts, but I have been told to follow, and follow I shall. After many hours of discussion, a scheme is concocted, whereby I will take a missive to Calvin, and tell him that I have done a reading and seen great misfortune in his future. The husband of the Countess Mazine, with whom he is having relations, has found of their affair and wishes him harm. Natasha hopes to instill in him a sense of fear and anger to cause him to call out the husband. Upon reaching the house of the Lord, however, I find he is not at home, or in the area at all. I do not leave a note, I feel that other events will take this out of our hands.

                I do leave a quick note for Natasha, telling her of the absence before heading back outside the walls to find a quiet place to set up my tent and sleep.

                Dawn is bright and clear and I make my way to the town square. Through prearrangement, we do not gather together to watch the hanging, each of us bears witness apart from the others. Nothing interesting happens, the men have no final words. With this chapter closed, we make our ways separately back to the inn. By happenstance we all reach the doorways about the same time. The elves are first, followed by the gobber and ogren, Natasha, the dwarf and I bring up the rear. We bump into the backs of those before us who have frozen in their steps. Looking around the group, I see a lone man sitting at the bar, nursing an ale. The elves point at man, make a sign, it’s the mysterious duelist! The Lady has a plan today, it seems.

                Once Natasha learns of his identity, she is determined to satisfy this once and for all. She marches to the bar, but one of the elves out distances her, sits next to the man, gives him a nod. I move to our favored table toward the back of the bar, the rest of the crew follows me. We sit to watch what happens.

                The duelist jumps with recognition at his bar mate. There proceeds an intense, though whispered conversation. Natasha has sat on the other side of the man, listening to her underling’s conversation. Having decided that the man is not a threat to her business, at least not at the moment, and that he is quick on his feet in a situation, she offers him a chance to join the band when he is not working for his Noble.

                There is a heist at the party we attend; I am shown off as though a dancing bear, it amuses me not, but it is what I am called to do. The readings don’t bother me so much, my Lady does not fail me and I am not called upon to lie to any of the party goers who stop at my table. Loss and misfortune follow the lot and I am regarded as true to my calling by all who attend the party. This will open connections to other nobles, in time, maybe my Lady will give me leave from this strange task. Gareth has proven his value tonight, I think Natasha may let the man live after all.

                The dwarf’s name has been given out as someone who can recover stolen goods, it’s possible that our nefarious partners won’t have to hawk all of the jewels, which is to the good. The band is in good spirits as we sit in the secret basement. It is during this merry making that Gareth lets an interesting fact slip: a relic has been recovered and is traveling to our destination. He doesn’t have a lot of information, but what he does tell us sends excitement through us. I have a faint premonition about this, I’m not sure if it is good or for ill, but I feel like this is related to my Lady’s purpose for me.

(Next Day)

                We have some more information about this strange relic. Lord Arthur Doyle, an accolade of the famed Victor Pindrake, was in some ancient ruins and found, whatever it is that he found. No one has seen it, or if anyone has, no one is talking about it. Everyone seems very interested in whatever it is, it must be very valuable.

                Lord Doyle lives in the northwestern quadrant of town on very nice estate. We assume he will have whatever it is there where he can keep it close. There are guards on the walls surrounding the estate, nine in total. A small grate in the eastern wall flows drains the estate down to the street towards the sewers. Our planning was simple for once: the Ogren and I would cause a distraction by the Western walls, draw the attention of the guards away so that our smaller brethren would be able to sneak to the grate unseen. Once there, they would use the acid that one of our elves created to remove the grate and then they would enter the estate and try to find the relic, whatever it is.

                Our side of the plan went smoothly. I piled the Ogren’s arms up with my gear, I think the weight may have surprised him, though I am not sure, and when we were at the appointed place, he tripped spilling my tent and tools into the street. I then spent a large portion of the next hour berating the creature and making him clean up, pack and repack everything until I was certain the others would have had a chance to get in. Taking my gear back from him, I stormed off to the south while he trudged north and west. Circling the blocks, we met to the north east of the complex out of sight of the guards, but to where we could keep an eye on the exit point of our party.

                Our associates had an interesting time inside the walls, as I gathered from our fearless leader after we regrouped:

                The acid ate through the bars easily, giving them easy access to the grounds. The ruckus we created could be heard even from their vantage point and they used the cover it provided to send the gobber scuttling across the short expanse of grass to the stables. The rest followed, elf, noble, the other elf and the dwarf. Crossing the stables floor, the second elf stopped suddenly, cocked his head to the side and motioned everyone to stop. Upon investigation, a trap door is discovered and the gobber sets to pick the locks. It takes a couple tries, but he makes it through and the find stairs disappearing down into the dark. At the bottom of the stairs they discover a trap, a thin wire crosses the threshold and a hallway lies beyond. There are holes spotting the right hand side of the passage, no doubt a dart or arrow mechanism. They step over the wire and move down the corridor. Down the long hallway they find a room. When they step on a rune painted on the floor, torches magically light. Taking one of the torches, they follow the tunnel that leads from the room around a U-turn to where it ends at a large room. There is something large and mechanical in the room. It has the sheen of metal, it is humanoid in form, the noble calls it a robot. Based on rumors Natasha heard while studying, she is sure it was created by the followers of Cyrss, a mech cult. From the stories she heard she thinks it would be something to avoid, if possible.

                The dwarf approaches the robot and it stands, showing proportions that look female in proportions. The thing speaks, a language that none there knows, the aggressive stance makes it look ready to attack. The party is on high alert, wishing there had been a way to sneak the two largest companions down this way, but since they are all they have, they prepare to defend themselves.

                With ease, the gobber dodges around the robot, his smaller stature must make it easier for him avoid detection. He thrusts his knife into the side of the thing, watching it puncture the joint. It doesn’t look like a lot of damage, but it is first blood, so to speak. The dwarf, being right in front of the thing, swings his cutlass at it, hitting another joint and sending sparks flying. One of the elves attempts to swing at it, but he only glances the metal, no damage. Natasha decides to use magic and casts Arcanic Bolt at the thing. Unfortunately, her aim is off in her excitement and misses the robot, hitting the dwarf instead. He looks very poorly at this point… The second elf gets a blow on the robot, but it looks like it has taken less damage overall. Gareth uses his rapier to stab into the creature, and gets backhanded into a wall where he lays stunned. The battle goes piece meal until the thing is finally defeated with Razor Wind.

                Hobbling into the adjoining chamber, they find a simple room. There is a table, on which two objects lay wrapped in leather and the rune of Cyrss painted on the wall. There is no other exit. Moving closer to the table, they examine both objects, one large and one medium in size. The smaller object proves to be a tablet, covered in script that none of them know. The large object a two-handed hammer, also inscribed. Bundling them up, the make a quick scavenge for parts off the Iron Maiden (as they now call it), relock everything and cover their tracks. The escape is clean and we make our ways separately to the Inn and our secret rooms.

Once we are reunited, our injured party members are cleaned up, and everyone falls into a deep and unnatural sleep… Dreams seem to plague everyone tonight, everyone wakes up feeling slightly off.

(The Journey)

We discuss the hammer and the tablet. Gareth points us to the Golden Crucible as a group who might be able to translate it. They seem to be located in Lael, several days ride by train… Our leader decides this is the thing to do, so we gather our gear and head for the station.

Natasha rents out a luxury cabin for us, but with a trollkin and ogren, its going to be a close fit for several days. To pass the time, the dwarf asks me for a reading for a translation of his dream. Natasha also asks for a reading, but I can’t imagine we will spend the entire trip in this fashion…

By the third day of our confinement in these posh surroundings, we are all going stir crazy. Only the dwarf is content because he has been drowning his boredom in all the beer he can find. Oddly enough, the dwarf is the one who notices the train is slowing in its trek. Peering forward, Natasha witnesses the train’s engineer fly from the engine and roll across down the embankment. The elves, Whist and Thale, grab the gobber and move forward to see what is happening. The people who are staying the cabin to the fore of ours know nothing of what is happening, and panic as the brakes are fully thrown. Picking themselves up from where they were tossed, they continue toward the coal car. Over the pile of coal, the elves see three would-be robbers standing at the controls. Whist immediately casts razorwind at the closest target, slicing him in half in his zeal. Thale shoots at the next closest target before they have time to wipe the blood from their faces, but as he crumples to the floor of the car, his companion turns and catches Thale with a bullet as well. Seeing his companion down, the gobber rushes forward and stabs the injured thief, killing him quickly. Whist summons his razorwind again and finishes the final thief, eviscerating him in the process. A quick search of the bodies reveals nothing of importance, so gathering the weapons and ammo, Thale and the gobber grab everything while Whist heads outside. He notices six horses tethered beneath the trees, and as there were only three thieves in the engine car, they can only assume that there are three other thieves somewhere. Gathering the horses, Whist sees the engineer hobbling up the track towards him. Assisting the man, he relays the danger and tells him to wait on resuming their journey until we can neutralize the threat.

                While all this takes place forward, our own adventure was had. While we waited to hear back from the rest of our crew, our door was burst down and three men entered carrying firearms. “This is a robbery!” one of them shouts right before his face explodes in a shower of blood and gore; Gareth sits back to reload his pistol. The sudden death of their friend seems to stun the remaining robbers and Natasha steps forward. Summoning an arcane bolt, she damages the one on the left before he regains his wits. The man on the right takes a shot at the ogren, his size must have drawn his attention, and he sits back, injured. The man on the left fires back at Natasha, catching her in the arm and setting her back. Seeing the carnage wrought already, our sturdy dwarf covers his beer, jumps over the table in the middle of the room and hides behind a box.

                Seeing my companions injured, I step forth ready to protect us all. A sonic blast issues from my powerful throat. The waves of sonic energy batter the men, the drop their weapons, cover their ears. Blood bursts between the uninjured man’s fingers, screaming he falls to the ground. The final assailant has already fallen, the sonic waves have done their duty. As the final thrums of my voice hang in the air, the rest of our companions join us. These bodies tell us no more that the first set and we throw them off the train and tell the engineer that he may resume our journey.  

                After bandaging our battered companions, we are surprised to receive a full and delicious meal prepared on our behalf as thanks for our heroic efforts. I’m pleased with the positive turn our fortunes have taken, a more noble pursuit to help cleanse the stains from my soul. The rest of our journey is spent healing up and it stays calm until we reach Merwynn.

                We have reached Lael, and once we arrive, Gareth tells us it’s still a couple days journey out to where the translators might be. We gather our gear and taking our newly acquired horses we set out for where he points us. After a long and very uncomfortable ride for most of us, we set up camp. I set a warding circle to alert us if anyone passes, but we set up watches anyway. Gareth and the dwarf settle down for first watch, the elves will take second, the ogren and gobber will be third, with Natasha and I taking final watch. Fully exhausted, and sore from the saddle, I gratefully take my leave of the party and settle into sleep.

(On The Move)

                The night is waning when I am shaken for my turn at watch. As we rub the sleep from our eyes we settle down against a saddlebag, facing the North and South respectively. Without warning, a boom sounds from the northwest and one of the horses across from us explodes in a firework of charred meat and blood. The rest of the horses start making a racket and wake up the rest of the party as we jump to our feet and stare at the hill that the cannonball came from behind. In the pale light of the early morning we could just make out the top half of a steam jack over the hill. The dwarf attempts to duck under cover and sneak around the hill to the left, keeping the hill between him and whoever is behind it controlling the jack.  Whist steps forward and casts Razorwind at the huge machine, ripping a few plates off but not stopping it. We each attempt to damage the thing but with our heads still full of sleep it seems like we have no focus. The Mech fires a cannon at Whist, knocking the wind out of him, he appears badly damaged. At length, the dwarf makes it around the hill and sees a furry hat on the other side of the mech’s knee. Taking careful aim, he hits it where the head should be, killing the owner of the hat instantly. AS we batter at the machine, Whist stands and attempts his spell one more time. Fortunately we have done enough peripheral damage to it that the winds have many edges at which to pull. The final blast of damage brings the hulking mech to a stop and we sit down gratefully to catch our breath. Once we are minimally recovered we inspect the human, noting he is a Khadoran . The note secreted in his pocket is written in the tongue of that land and Natasha translates for us. “The target you seek is at (map coordinates). Once you have finished that task, meet us at (map coordinates).” Written at the bottom of the note in a certain dialect of that tongue are the words “Fire, wind, water, wood” Natasha takes this as being the control key for the mech. Gareth jumps at the first set of coordinates and pulls a map from his bags. He asks for the first set again and furrows his brow in concern. “That’s where we are going…” he tells us. Natasha tries to work on the jack, getting it partially functioning as Whist heals from his close encounter with a cannonball. Once we have everything packed up, we continue our quest to the Northwest. Since our most recent enemies came from that direction also, we are expecting devastation ahead of us and keep a wary eye open for anything suspicious.

               

  (Reunion)

                It is dusk when we finally reach our destination. The camp is just as devastated as we anticipated. Smoking craters tear through the camp, leaving a haze in the air. Through the smoke screen we can make out two large shapes in the distance.  Straining my eyes I just make out that the larger is a bison. That can only mean one thing. Stepping forward I call a traditional greeting, from trollkin to another. It must be one of my people. The figure straightens, looks my direction and approaches cautiously. “Vessas?” he enquires. With a cry I spring forward, this is someone I know! In fact, it is none other than Keblan, we would play together as youth before his kriel left ours for other pastures. He has grown since the last time I set eyes on him. With a hug, I introduce the Rider to my group and then we sit and start catching up as the others explore the camp.

                Gorem and Whist circle the camp, making their observations and then reporting back. It is obvious this was an ambush; most everyone is dead although it looks like a couple may have escaped. This looks more like a political group than a research gathering though. I notice the gobber is off looting goggles from one of his own, predictable. Thale asks Gareth if his friend we were coming to meet is among the dead. He is, but it looks like his assistant is missing, possibly one of the survivors. True to character, Gorem taps the only undamaged keg as Keblan and I rejoin the group. Keblan tells us that he was tracking a Khadoran force when he came across this place. He was following them to keep his kriel out of their way. It looks like anything of value has already been looted from this place, but we set an uneasy watch anyway. Gareth and Gorem take first shift, sharing ale as they settle against the barrel.

                It’s sunlight that waked us from our slumber. With unease we stand and find the dwarf asleep in his cups. Gareth is nowhere to be found, the tablet and hammer are gone also. Waking the dwarf takes a little effort and we realize it is more than just strong ale that has come over him. Thale takes a look around the camp and finds where Gareth went off after the other survivors. Keblan decides to join us for this part of our journey, so we all mount up as best we can with the mounts at hand. Thankfully the bison is strong enough to carry two trollkin so that my horse can be used by another.

                A couple hours down the path we see where Gareth joined up with someone else who apparently had a horse for him. We don’t break for lunch since our quarry has a good lead on us now. By mid-day we see smoke on the horizon. The gobber and Thale sneak ahead to check out the situation. There is good cover in the woods to our right so they circle through that to see a tent standing on the edge of the wood. There are two men outside, neither of which they recognize. As they start back to tell us, we realize Gorem is already running towards the camp. He wishes revenge for the drugging in his ale. With a cry the rest of us start charging, might as well try to protect the party. I can only hope that these are not innocent bystanders. The gobber reaches the camp first but trips and misses both men. Thale hits and kills his target and Gorem catches the other man by surprise killing him as well. Whist razorwinds the tent in the chance that Gareth might be there, but it falls in tatters and is empty. Looking up, we can see a rider in the distance, without stopping to check with the party Keblan and I take off after him.