Hacklab

A Letter from Graxus Thunderseeker to Guntor Thunderseeker

(Received while Guntor is hunting with Myrrdin around Tri-boar)

A Letter from Graxus Thunderseeker to Guntor Thunderseeker

Dearest Son,
Sorry, your mother insists that I start every letter formally now. I mean seriously, I send one letter with a joke at the beginning and suddenly she thinks I’m- I quote – ‘insensitive to the plight of the peoples of the land.’ Ok, maybe I accidentally sent it to a half-orc and maybe the joke discussed the breeding habits of their mothers and maybe he took it the wrong way and tried to kill all of our livestock (he was a big softy). Anyway, you’re probably wondering why and how this falcon is bringing you a letter from your dear-old-dad. Well, strap in for a story.

There was this druid in town the other day, who’s absolutely insane by the way, he talks to animals and plants! Somehow I found myself talking to him and he said he was looking to settle down here. Of course I mentioned that I was a carpenter and told him about a nice plot not too far away. (You know that guy Kresh? The big dumb ugly one that looks like he was a mistake made by a goblin and a bugbear.) Yeah, he walks up and starts beaten’ on the druid, something about him being a Tief-whatever-you-call-it (you now the people with horns and a tail). Us Thunderseeker’s are above all that intolerance. (and he was the first potential customer I’ve had in months.) Also, I was bored and had plenty to drink. (Thanks for that gold by the way!) So naturally, I jump into the brawl, which by now involved half the tavern cause’ they had nothing better to do either.

Ha! You shoulda’ seen the look on Kresh’s ugly face when I made it even uglier with a steel tankard. It was the best pub-brawl all year! Even Carnof wasn’t angry at us for trashing his place. Oh, I’m runnin’ out of room on this sheet and I don’t feel like goin’ to all the effort of finding another one. I’ll just skip to the point. After I scraped that druid off the floor he said he would repay me by hiring me to build his place. That was fine with me, but then he told me that he didn’t have much coin. I was about to walk away when he said he could pay with “magical services.”

I told him I was happily married, but he got all offended and said he didn’t mean it that way. How am I supposed to know what those Tief-things are into? Long-story-short I said he would have to prove he could actually use magic before I built him his shack. He told me about how he could use any animal as a messenger, even if you don’t know where the other person is. This is me testing his fancy magic. He said that the bird will stay with you for a few minutes so you can write down a response and send it back. Whelp… see ya’.

Guntor this is your mother. I couldn’t help but read what your father intends to send you, but he refuses to let me change it. Honestly, the man I married. I think he just wants to relive his adventuring days. All of my friends agree that it’s some kind of midlife crisis. Enough about your father; are you staying safe? Make sure to cover up, first snow has fallen and I simply can’t bear the thoug… (the rest of the sentence is scrunched onto the page and is illegible, but Guntor does make out a few hearts and ‘I love you’s)

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The Morning after
the day after the ambush of assasins

After being ambushed by two elf assasins the group decided to compare the note left by one of the wood elves with letters from Gaylin.

The group then hears a knock on the door by two guards (one tall wiith balding hair and one younger both dressed in half plate mail) asking questions about the night before. As traxle returns from the underworld to investigate he gets stopped by the guards. The group voluntarily goes with the guards to the town hall where we met a dragonborn who asks what our involvement is in the murdering at the Weeping Moth in.

After exchanging words with the Dragonborn commander Gurrlachk, the commander sees that we are men of good faith. The group then strikes a deal to help the commander find out who is behind the disappearing of dragonborn if she can help us with the suspicion of Gaylen and the ambush at the Weeping Moth. The commander states the last kidnapping was on the outskirts of town in the Faye Woods.

ssither grandspickt will be the person who was last kidnapped.

The group decided to go see gaylin men and sell off some of our items to prepare for this journey of the dragonborn.

Tall Grim Island (captain gladstones dissapearing area)

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French Pallet Town
A New Beginning (Day 39 @ Table 1)

Here in the small French Pallet Town there are many houses full of color, character, and common folk. Pallet Town is a small town near the popular Old Port dock where our story begins.

In a small common tavern where travelers and warriors of different alignments drink to their hearts desire we find Yoshi, blanco the crook, traxle, Altair, and Bogard. Yoshi and Altair, traveling partners that walk under the alignment of try and ilmitar who met after Yoshis town had been destroyed by orcs and Altairs hermit dwelling was attacked by the same enemy now face a deceitful group of druids who has scammed Yoshi out of a drinking game.

As the group sat and drank Yoshi began a drinking game with one of the druids to settle their differences. Shortly after a scuffle broke out when the new new aquantance were assaulted over an unsettle past. Fearing for each others safety, the four men joined each other in taking up arms against the intruders.

Bogard and Blanco (an outlander and ex-criminal who have joined each other after clearing a forest of orcs near Bogards hometown near Mexico mountains) help corner a druid as Yoshi gets upset and demands his money back. After seeing the Tyr tattoo on the back of Yoshi’s neck the crew realize they have alot more in common and draw weapons to intimidate the one druid that had been left behind after the team scared off the others in the group.

As the four of them corner this druid thief the druid laughs and says “What are you rightfully jolly good men going to do?”.

Traxle quickly draws a small dagger to the druids neck and says “Lets end this now”.

The Druid gives up the gold that was taken from Yoshi and the rest of the gold he had stolen from that day and darted towards the door and out into Robinia

The new found team watch as the dwarf runs out the door and bumps into an old man who falls to the floor. After helping him up he regains the strength and says “You guys here seem like a good and wholesome team. Would you mind helping me with a task I may be to weak to complete?”

As the group looks at each other and realizes that they were able to work together to stop a druid from scamming anyone else they simultaneously shrugged their shoulders in agreement.

Yoshi then states “Yeah, we can help, what kind of task do you need help with”.

The old man grants them with their first task to delivery a barrel of goods to a merchant in the Old Port Dock. So our adventure begins to Old Port carrying a bushel of goods to a merchant.

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Kheg Secret Diary5
Days 39-46

Day 39 – morning
Conyberry

We spent the night in Conyberry floating above all else in one of the many abandoned buildings and found ourselves being greeted by 10 degree temperatures as we awoke. With Iarno in our custody, it dropped an anvil on plans to try and find Vola in Wyvrn Tor today. Instead we took our prisoner to the closest, most secure place we could think of. We took him to the city of Tribore, but it took some convincing to ensure that the city took him off our hands.

Once in the city and with Iarno off our hands, we split up with everyone taking care of personal business. The Hammer’s was to find a watering hole; drink and then put on one of his shows. Myrrdin visited the North Shield House; and Guntor went hunting again. As for Charlatan and Peabody, they invited me for another night of scams as Charlatan had an idea to fix a table for the unsuspecting gamblers. Upon raking in 24 gp in one evening, it makes me think that once my wonderlust has worn off, running scams would be a good way to keep the money sack full. Mizry spent part of the evening trying to determine the magical powers held by Glassstaff’s staff. Finding that it has both offensive and defensive capabilities, Miz’ry spent the rest of the evening becoming attuned to her new glass staff.

Only one evening in Tribore and this city is really having an effect on me. Word had gotten out that the Winterstorm Troopers had removed the merchant threat provided by the Frost Wolves. Suddenly our ale was on the house and well wishers where everywhere. I don’t remember anything like this in Phandalin after we rid that village of the Glasstaff and his Redbrands.

It is now evening of Day 40. We arrived in Wyvrn Tor to meet up with Vola only a short time ago and made camp in the most logical area: near the base of the stone tower. Around us lay undisturbed snow so we are unable to locate any of Thunderfury’s tracks.

On Day 41 as we awoke we found ourselves near a canyon. As we ventured towards the canyon we found some orcs walking around. An even closer look revealed 3 door set into the canyon walls. We tried to get even closer before we started to attack, but we weren’t as stealthy as we had hoped to be.

So there we were at the top of the canyon trading arrows and blows with at least five orcs and one ogre. Some were below on the canyon floor while others were making the 15’ to 20’ climb.
Every once in a while magic users will cast jaw dropping spell with such destruction that it’ll startle both allies and enemies alike. Myrrdin did just that. He cast one that affected a large area below and was so devastating that one orc was killed, one became close to death and 3rd was injured.

As the melee continued and Miz’ry concentrated on the ogre by using Eldritch Blast, 3 more orcs emerged from the caves. Once the ogre was showing signs of weakness, Miz’ry then retreated from the edged of the cliff. I have no idea what spell was cast, but Charlatan conjured up a spell equal to that of Myrrdin’s and killed multiple orcs in one strike. In hind sight I should have done as Miz’ry and Hammer had and retreated because after hitting the ogre with an arrow, I suddenly found myself going over the edge of the cliff after being pushed by an orc. And once again, Guntor saved my ass from sudden impact by casting the Feather Fall spell. The melee ended as Myrrdin finished off the ogre. I gotta hand it to Myrrdin, he once again proved that druids can be scarey awsome in combat.

With the large fight in the canyon complete we searched the three caves where we unexpectely found Vola. She had been taken captive 3 days ago after a melee. The combination of the fight and captivity took it’s toll on her, but she is tough and has probably been in worse shape after some of the battles we have been through.

According to Vola, after spending a good part of a day looking for an opportunity to ambush she decided to try again the next day. It was on this day that she heard voices from orc patrols. Combat with this patrol unit of 3 ensued while she was mounted and her strategy was to run past all 3 combatants and slash at each one. She said that she managed to inflict a very substantial wound on her first strike, but things got hazy from there. She knows her horse was killed and once on the ground prone she started to take on a lot of strikes. She found the strength to get to her feet again, but that is the last thing she can recall until she woke up as a prisoner.

In addition to finding Vola we found a chest with a massive amount of coins: copper, silver and even some electrum. The chest also contained 3 viles that turned out to be perfumes. They smelled great, but the fragrance didn’t out weigh my lust for the gold we could make by selling the viles. I wish I had thought of giving them to Aunt Qelline, because I think she would have liked them, but at this point in her life I think she’d appreciate my share of the gold even more.

Normally after a big battle like this we’d need to take a rest to recouperate, but with the way we mopped up all those orcs and rung out the ogre earlier today, we could have moved onto Tribore city, but after 3 days of captivity by orcs, Vola isn’t in the condition to travel so instead were going to spend the night as squatters in the home of the defeated. It’s just as well though because with the stench created by all those orc heads, finding a room at an inn in Tribore would be problematic.

It is the late afternoon (Day 42) and we have just checked in to a nice inn after dumping a sack of orc heads at the feet of a Tribore city official. We were told that we’d get paied double for the ogre head of which Guntor kindly asked for a tooth of. He was granted the entire set along with the jaw and everthing else. Charlantan on the other hand kindly asked for horses, but the officials made it clear that the only extras we’re being granted are rotting, yellow orc and ogre teeth. We actually took the official up on his offer and removed his burden of having to dispose of the heads. We’re now getting ready to divvy up the the contents of the chest we found in Wyvryn Tor and in the morning we plan to start our journey back to Phandalin. If all goes well it should take only two days to get there.

It’s Day 44 and we were greeted by Gundrin Rockseeker as we arrived in Phandalin . Just as we did in Tribore, we brought our sack of orc heads straight to the town masters office in Phandalin. The town master, Harbin Westin didn’t see us, but he did see that we were given a reward of 100 gp. From there we went to visit with Sister Garail and relay the information that we had learned from the banshee, Agatha. With the information given, Sister Garail suspects that the Brothers of the Northern Sun have the spell book.

Needing a place to stay, I thought I’d ask Aunt Qelline to put the crew up for another night. The visit would also give me chance to speak with her about what I learned of Dak and Reed. Prior to my visit I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle the situation between me and my cousins and wanted Aunt Qelline’s input, but her broken jaw wouldn’t let her speak. Seeing Aunt Qelline’s battered face, and crying eyes as she pointed out the direction that Dak, Reed and three unknow humans accomplices went in said everything I needed to know…it’s just a question of when? I have plenty to allow me to buy a riding horse and get to Tyr Nog rather quickly, but I can’t find my kidnapped 9 y.o. cousin Carp on my own.

While in Phandalin we hear that Halia Thornton left town 4 days ago and hasn’t been seen since. It was two and a half weeks ago that I filed the claim on the mine so I don’t get the two week delay in leaving for the mine. Hopefully she’ll run into Drozz and his giant spiders before she is able to undermine me any more.

On Day 45 we awoke in the barn of the Alderleaf Farm and before heading to the mines, I gave Aunt Qelline 25 gp. The trek to the mines is proving to be difficult in all this snow. With the accumulation making it difficult to find the right path, we are now lost and a day behind schedule.

It is early in the morning Day 46 and we just fought off 6 orcs that attacked our camp as Myrrdin, Miz’ry and Charlatan took their turn on watch. 5 were killed during the attack and Charlatan killed the 6th one has he fled.

Day 46 – Morning
Somewhere in the hills between Phandalin and the mines.

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Guntor's new-found opinion of Dak and Reed

For Kheg’s sake, Guntor didn’t show his anger as they left Aunt Qelline’s House. After about a month of traveling together he still couldn’t decipher the Halfling’s emotions; Kheg kept them under control and didn’t allow them to interfere with the mission, which was something Guntor respected about him. Guntor wasn’t sure if Kheg would disapprove or join in if he displayed his vehement disgust at the two Halfling cousins he had once considered friends.

The look in her eyes is what snapped something in Guntor, they were the same sad eyes of hopelessness that someone has after they lose everything. He had seen that look far too many times in his life. It was the eyes his parents had after they fled Thundertree. It was the eyes of all the other refugee’s. It was the eyes he grew up near in Neverwinter’s slums.

Guntor hated the thought of causing anyone that much suffering. Especially someone who would take them in, feed them, give them a place to sleep. A home away from home. During their trip he thought about the first time he had met Qelline; how Dak and Reed ate at her table and slept in her barn with the rest of the group. His thoughts then wandered to young Carp, and Guntor quickly put the perpetually happy and energetic child out of his mind. He knew if he thought of Carp having to see his mother’s sad eyes he would have begun south that second. Guntor had lived long enough in the Neverwinter slums for him to see what happened to the children who had to go home to those sad eyes. Guntor knew he was lucky to have strong parents who rejected hopelessness and reassured himself with a thought of Qelline’s take-no-shit-from-anyone attitude. He knew Carp would be ok. Guntor was glad to kill something that night when orcs attacked.

That morning the frigid surroundings had done their job and cooled Guntor enough for him to approach Kheg.

“Kheg,” he began, trying to find the right words.

Kheg looked up from a map that had routes to the south already plotted. Kheg, who was never very forth coming with his plans, began rolling up the map while he looked up at Guntor.

“About your cousins… I’ve got your back.” Guntor left it at that and walked away. He still didn’t trust himself to say anymore and knew Kheg would understand.

Even though Qelline wasn’t blood, she had treated them like family, and those eyes were too close to Guntor. They had made it personal.

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Kheg's Secret Diary4
Days 34-38

Day 34 – Morning
Wayshrine, High Road

On Day 34 we awoke to the first snow of the season and personally I was thrilled to see that it melted as it hit the ground. It was already cold enough; we didn’t need the extra burden of walking in the snow for the next couple of days.

Peabody made a big deal about the season’s first snow, so there we all were, an entire caravan all listening to Peabody drone on with ritualistic chants and poetry as we near froze to death.

It is now morning of Day 35 and we’re still traveling with this caravan and expect to for most of today. Upon reaching Tribore Trail, we will split from the caravan and turn east and once we reach the trail leading south to Phandalin, Gundrin Rockseeker will also split as Myrrdin, Guntor, Charlatan, Miz’ry, The Hammer and I continue on east to Wyvryn Tor. It will be a joyless trek and we can only hope that we don’t run into a snow storm.

I write this on Day 36 as we all sit in front of a fire and relish the much needed heat that it brings on this bitter cold night. We have covered a good distance since I last made an entry. Progress has been good, but this cold spell isn’t letting up. We estimate that we are about 25 miles from Wyvryn Tor.

I had been wanting to confess to Gundrin that I had put a legal claim on the mine since before we had left Neverwinter, but just never found the right time. Maybe it was the heart I was lacking? What ever the case, yesteday as he started south towards Phandalin, I pulled him aside and quietly mentioned my deed. Surprisingly Gundrin didn’t swing his fist at me although I think I could have taken him if he did. His main worry was that word on the location of the mine would get out and there would be an army of claim jumpers. I gave the man…scratch that…I gave the gentleman 10 gp to help get him back on his feet and hold him over until we’re able to meet up again.

On Day 37 we woke up to falling snow again, but it hadn’t accumulated. After snowing on and off throught the day, we can now see that it is starting to stick.

We were about 5 or 6 miles into our trek east this morning when some horse tracks were spotted. Since they were farely new we suspected that they were made by Thunderfury. It is now night and we have already eaten another hiddeous meal of rations, but The Hammer just manages to chow it down like a starving wolf and I’m still not sure what he does with the bones.

To the south we see a fire from atop the massive rock; more odd is that it burns blue. …This is one for Myrrdin to solve.

Today (Day 38) we reached Conyberry and our welcome was rather unpleasant. As we were making our way towards Agatha’s we were ambushed by a group of barbarians that called themselves the Frost Wolves. They were rather fearful at first with their ability to climb and jump around the floating chunks of rock that Conyberry has become, but as their ambush became a retreat we found that things aren’t always as they seem. In a battle with 4 of ‘em Myrrdin,the druid proved to be a real ass kicker by killing 3. The Frost Wolves put us on the run early, but Charlatan turned the tables after producing a massive lighting strike. It made the lead F.W. call for a retreat and it was during this retreat that Charlatan took two arrows simultaneously from the same archer. Guntor charged up and wanted to chase the barbarians down and away he went with most of the Winterstorm Troopers following his lead; Charlatan and Miz’ry stayed back. With at least one dead F.W. at this point and done by yours truly, we climbed up the ropes into the village.

While at the edge of the floating surface, a bold F.W. tackled me and the two us went over the edge. Having already been injured by an arrow, the impact on the ground would have surely been the end of the fight for me, but Guntor’s quick thinking by using a feather fall spell spared me from going splat. Just as the tackling F.W. and I touched down, the he took an arrow from someone..

Although Charlatan was severely injured and against putting the Frost Wolves on the chase, he too climbed the rope, but became incapacitated a moment later (This guy is so prone to incapacitation it’s unreal). Miz’ry, who was in the midst of trying to stabalize her bother also hit the dirt. With Charlatan already stable, Myrrdin does the same for Miz’ry and then follows it up with a bow shot with a kill. With only one Frost Wolf still standing she took 3 arrows within a seven second window. Myrrdin delivered the one that ended it all.

With the melee now over the others searched the village for any more threats while I tended to a a human male that had undergone rat torture and he was still alive. To my surprise and also to my delight, this person turned out to be none other than Ianro Albrect, aka Glasstaff. With his life completely in the hands of the Winterstorm Troopers, getting the full details of my “departure” from the Redbrands 5 years ago was as simple as asking for it and if he wasn’t in the near death shape he was, I wouldn’t have believed his answer. It turns out that my cousins Dak and Reed actually stooped much lower than I did. Much lower than I could have even imagined. What I’m going to do now that I know the truth, I’m not exactly sure at the moment, but what ever I do choose, it can wait.

We plundered what we could in Conyberry. There was a scroll; jewels; gold and silver coins; and with Glasstaff’s staff in Miz’ry’s hands, The Hammer placed a ring on his finger…a ring that turned out to be magical and provide projection.

Myrrdin healed Iarno Albrect and after a one hour break we started on our way to Agatha’s with the jeweled comb while Peabody was left behind to watch our prisoner. A moment after we had repelled down to the surface, we noticed a blue peakwyrm unattended. Guntor’s eyes lite up like one of Miz’ry’s Eldritch Blasts on this site, and although the peakwrym was trained and tied up as someone’s mount, as wide as Guntor’s eyes were, he was still too blind to see he was probably stealing. Guntor insisted on staying behind to “befriend” the dragon like beast while the rest of us continued on to Agatha’s to try and persuade her into divulging the location of Bogendles spell book.

Getting Agatha to divulge the location of the book was much less problematic than the hike in getting to here place. It was in difficult terrain in the center of a dark, dead wooded area. The thick foilage and density of the trees was shredding our new winter clothing as it would catch thus making the trip even colder.

We eventually came upon a cluster of tree that were bent over towards each other. The tops of these tree intertwinded and fromed a dome. It was here that Charlatan the bull shit artisan went to work.

What flowed from Charlie’s mouth was compelling yet supple; it was outright genious. Agatha appeared and upon the sight of her I was thinking that staying with Guntor to help steal a mount would have made things easier on my eyes. That elf was wretched! Her face was withered and here nails were unkept. The jeweled comb we gave her will come in handy because she hasn’t had one run through her hair in years. Who ever said this woman has a high regard for vanity obviously never took a look at Agatha. Even here clothing was tatered, but after what these woods did to my clothing, I guess I should expect no less from Agatha. Anyhow…another mission accomplished.

Upon returning to the village we were treated with Peabody’s narration of Guntor’s follies in trying to evade 3 orcs. Guntor was very lucky to have escaped because the peakwyrm bones are probably being gnawed on by the orcs at this very moment. .

Day 38 – evening
Conyberry

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Kheg's Secret Diary3
Days 25-33

Day 25 – Mid morning
Phandelver Pact Mines

Myrrdin had joined the search party only a couple hours before Hammer found he needed to exit the mines due to a really bad case of food poisoning, but we were fortunate enough to have Hammer at full hammer swinging health as we battered a doppleganger only minutes ago.

After an hour of recouperating at the mine’s entrance, Miz’ry’s search party of 5 headed towards the last place she was seen, the temple of Dumathoin. We knew we were on the right track when we opened the temple doors and heard the sound of metal crashing onto stone for discarded weapons had been placed against the door to serve as a makeshit intrusion alarm.

Guntor’s use of the dancing lights spell revealed spider webs, but no giant spiders. As we conducted a room to room search, we found one door giving off an electric shock as a deterant for unauthorized entry. Charlatan cast Mage Hand and placed the hand against the door to draw the electrical charge. The lock was then picked and the door was opened without further injury.

Within the last 20 days, we’ve found 3 bodies lying on the floor and all had been badly beaten by Black Spider’s minions. There was the human body found in the goblin cave that is believed to possibly be Gundrin Rockseeker’s travel companion, there was Gundrin himself at Cragmaw Castle then there was Gundrin’s brother found dead only yesterday. Today wasn’t any different except for the cause of death perhaps as we find Gundrin’s other brother on the floor. Vola was able to determine that he was killed earlier today.

Charlatan found evidence that Miz’ry had been in this room due to her backpack being left behind. With the trail getting warmer and warmer, Guntor put his owl on another swift scouting mission and as we followed its path we found ourself walking in what appeared to be a 10’ deep dwarven built trench that led us into a large cavern. As we entered the cavern we could hear Miz’ry’s voice, but the depth of the trench made it impossible to see our surroundings. To make matters worse, we could see a flying, flaming skull which Myrrdin told us was a type of undead.

Charlatan managed to scale up the wall towards his sister’s voice. Sure enough Miz’ry Jones had been found, but with the flaming skull; Drozz; a giant spider; the bugbear Gremmel; and 5 zombies all in the same cavern, it was clear that extracting Miz’ry wasn’t going to be an easy operation. Working for us was the fact that the undead were in a battle of their own with Drozz and his crew. Working against us was the fact that the undead were very indiscriminate of their victims. As the rest of us scaled the wall and on towards the melee even Guntor’s owl got in a strike on Gremmel.

Myrrdin was in possession of the wand pulled out of the lake the prior day and although none of us knew what it was for or how to use it, Myrrdin felt that this battle was a good time to do some field testing. The initial test was successful as Myrrdin made what may have been his first kill as a zombie became the target of Magic Missiles.

During the melee Miz’ry is grabbed by Gremmel and only a moment later Gremmel hits the ground as he crackles and fries from a spell cast by Charlatan. With Miz’ry now free and running towards what is actually a dry canal, the rest of us follow as the flaming skull takes pot shots on us. Undetered by the attacks from above, Drozz relentlessly chases Miz’ry with vengence and uses Magic Missiles and poison to try and thwart her escape, but his attempts came to naught. Miz’ry and her rescuers were able to join The Hammer on the precipice where we took another well needed rest. An hour later we decended the cliff face and headed towards the foothill a quarter mile away that Charlatan’s horses were left at. The horses were no longer there, but all the blood left behind made it clear that the horses had their own melee. With a ½ moon starting to show a camp was made.

In the morning of Day 26 Myrrdin believes he saw Drozz climb down from the precipice and do it with amazing swiftness. With the thought of Drozz on the hunt, we felt it best to distance ourselves even more and headed to Phandalin as fast as we could go. We marched into the night and reached our destination around 12:00 am where once again Aunt Qelline was kind enough to allow use of her barn.

With the wind starting to become bitter cold, the whole trek last night was a long, harsh, constant reminder to get winter clothing today (Day 27) and that’s just what we did. Some of us bought tents too.

After the new equipment purchases, I decided to visit that bitch at the miners guild before we moved on to Neverwinter. I’m not quite sure why we’re going to Neverwinter, but I want to speak with Gundrin about mine ownership. Currently there are only a handfull of people that know where the Phandelver Pact Mines are located and if the rediscoverers - the Rockseeker brothers -, or atleast the 1/3rd that is still able to breath isn’t going to put a legal claim to it, then I will do what should have been done more than 27 days ago. The place is too valuble to go legally unrecorded and ownership agreements between myself and Gundrin can be worked out amicably some other time. I just hope my gut feeling about Halia Thornton is wrong, but the vibe I get from that bitch tells me that she’ll fuck Gundrin and I over on this. I so badly didn’t want to divulge the exact location of the mine, but it seems I had no other choice if a legal claim was to be filed.

On Day 28 we wake up to bone chilling tempratures on the High Road just short of the wayshrine and by late afternoon we were in Neverwinter. As cold as it is, I can only question the name “Neverwinter”.

Hoping for a private meeting, on Day 29 I tell the others that I’m going to look for Gundrin. Unexpectedly Vola, Myrrdin and Miz’ry want to come along. We find Gundrin coinless and living at a temple and although he had recovered from his near death experience after two weeks of sadistic captivity he still looked like shit. Before I had a chance to tell him in private that I filed a claim on the mine, he told us that he never filed a claim for fear of claim jumpers. His fear was shared by myself as I told Halia Thornton the exact location of the mine and by hearing this from Gundrin, I now worry even more. I came to Neverwinter to tell him about the claim I made and amicably start a mining operation and why wouldn’t he do that with me? All of his other partners are dead, so who else is there? Besides, he’s homeless. Now that I hear him mention his reason for not making a claim in the first place, I can’t find the dignity to tell him what I’ve done, but since when did I ever care about dignity? All of this would be a bit easier if it wasn’t a follow up to the dreadful news of his 2 brothers’ homicides. My timing couldn’t be worse. With all that on my mind, I left without even thinking to give him some coins so that he could stay at an inn until we left for Phandalin.

On Day 33 after 5 days in Neverwinter, Miz’ry has finally completed all of the research she was doing and was ready to leave. Gundrin says he is anxious to get back to Phandalin and get the mining operation off the ground. As for myself, I’m also anxious that Gundrin get the mining operation off the ground.

To our surprise, Vola was even more anxious than the rest of us to get moving. She left a note explaining that she felt the orc problem was of much greater importance to the people of the Sword Coast than Sister Grarail’s desire for information on a spell book written by Bogendle. Vola said she hoped to meet us in Wyvryn Tor as soon as possible so that we could join her quest to appease the god Tyr. She also went on to say that she had planned to travel to Phandalin with us, but she unexpectedly obtained a horse she calls Thunderfury and wanted to take advantage of the speed it gave her. By our best estimations we should meet Vola in Wyvryn Tor in about 5 days.

While preparing to leave Neverwinter for our trek south, we found a large caravan preparing to do the same. We tought it best to merge with them so after waiting for the caravan to finally get going we had left Neverwinter quite a bit later than we would have liked. Although rather early, due to such a late start, the caravan decided to camp at the wayshrine instead of camping in a less familiar section further south on the High Road. We found that although it is bitter cold outside the circle, inside it is warm, but the inside was taken up by the select few of a caravan we had merged with. The majority of us had to rough it on the frigid outside.

Day 33 – Early evening
Wayshrine, High Road

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Hunting with The Hammer
Don't hunt with the Hammer

Foreword: I love The Hammer so much I just had to include him in this. Also, sorry if i accidentally misrepresent any of your characters.

After the quagmire with the Orcs Guntor felt Tense and jittery. He looked over at Peabody and saw that the poor manservant was practically reduced to a puddle; occasionally muttering things like, I’m going to die here,” and, “mother was right, I never should have left Neverwinter.” With that pathetic example as inspiration, Guntor decided that he needed to go out for a bit. He got up and brushed himself off then walked over to the rest of his companions. He couldn’t see Kheg, which wasn’t uncommon, Charlatan and Mizry were sitting together a few yards away, and The Hammer was putting on a hammer juggling display for Owly.

The Hammer thundered a chuckle and haughtily proclaimed, “HA! The owl is wide eyed in amazement at my hammers!”

“Of course he’s wide eyed, he’s an owl.” interjected Myrrdin with an unamused remark

“Then he’s um… Double wide eyed!… or super wide eyed?… Either way the owl likes The Hammer’s hammers.”

As if to prove that his display was impressive, The Hammer started adding hammers until he was at ten in total. Myrrdin did seem impressed, but he took a large step back- looked down and thought for a second- then took another step. Guntor walked over to Charlatan and Mizry who were talking intently with each other. Before Mizry noticed Guntor and stopped, he overheard a little of what she was saying; something about feeling cold and aching joints. Guntor thought that was a little silly, of course she was cold and achy; ‘it’s winter and when we’re not killing something we’re running from something trying to kill us.’ He dismissed these thoughts with a what-can-ya-do shrug to himself and a mumbled, “Southerners.”

“Yes Guntor?” asked Charlatan as Mizry looked down and seemed to be engrossed her own thoughts

“Well, I just wanted to let you know that I was going to go scout out the surrounding woods… Maybe do some hunting too. It should only take about an hour.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? The Orcs could b…” began Charlatan, but he was cut off by an, “Ow!” from the hammer. It was quickly followed by nine more and the sound of Myrrdin helping the dwarf to his feet.

Guntor quickly stated, “Don’t worry, I’m going in the opposite direction from their rock tower, or whatever it’s called. Besides, I can’t stay cooped up here any longer.”

“Ok,” Charlatan reluctantly agreed, but then quickly added, “One hour, only one then we’ll have to come look for you.”

“That’s fair.” Stated Guntor, already walking to one of the ropes, “Next time when you’re not so busy I’ll take you with me.”

Despite her lost demeanor Mizry chuckled, “Charlie hunting… That I’ll have to see.”

“Hey,” remarked Charlatan, and by then Guntor was already down the rope.

Guntor stood at the bottom of the rope and inhaled. He was already beginning to feel better, there was something about the earth motes that didn’t seem natural; Well, besides the chunks of earth floating forty feet in the air. They just didn’t feel right under his feet. Owly Peered over the side. Wearing, as close as his owlish features would allow, to a quizzical look. Guntor extended his thoughts to his flying friend and told him he could do what he wanted. Guntor knew Owly could find him if he needed to; anyway, he didn’t want tracking wildlife to be too easy, that would take out the sport of it.

He set off at a full sprint, shedding the day’s anxiety with every bound. It took him about five minutes to get to the edge of the woods. He stopped and got control of his breath. Pulling out his Bow he headed into the woods, It felt good in his hands and while he was walking he looked down at the weapon. His father had given him the bow when he decided to join the mercenary group. There, he had met Amon, Jack, Kheg, Reed, Dak, and Dain. He suddenly became a little troubled when he realized that he couldn’t remember most of their faces, but was comforted by the memory of all of them siting around a fire in the mercenary camp and deciding to escape their commitments to the mercenaries.

Guntor still felt a warmth in his chest, reminiscent of when Amon first spoke at that fire about how they could do so much more, adventure around the lands, become somebody, become heroes. Guntor twisted the bow to see the front of the thick flat wooden arms and ran his fingers over the small carvings scratched there with a small pick-like tool he carried around. Going out from the grip in both directions and sometimes two or three abreast was a small catalogue of what he had done so far. There was a tied up goblin; a cape that was painted red; Vola’s shield of Tier; a book Mizry called her “Spell Tome” under one of the many rings Charlatan wore; a nothic; a goblin, rump in the air, digging through a barrel; a dragon worshipers mask; a Green painted dragon head, Venomfang, which didn’t do the beast’s horrific beauty justice; a bugbears club with a crown on it; an owl; a hammer; a spider painted black; and most recently a floating earth mote.

Guntor couldn’t help but smile. This is what he’s accomplished, and there was still much more room left. His smile turned bittersweet when he twisted the bow back to its normal position and spotted the small names on the lower arm: Dain Ironfist, Amon Arkham, and Owly Cartographer I. His eyes were then drawn inexorably to the upper arm where there was a carving that was much bigger than the ones on the front. It was a campfire with a shadowy figure behind it, giving a speech about how he could do so much more.

Guntor hadn’t noticed when he had stopped walking to lean up against a tree, but he was pulled out of his thoughts by a light trotting on the forest floor. He looked up, suddenly alert, and stalked his way toward the sound. There, maybe twenty feet away, stood an elk. Guntor’s mouth fell open, Elk were rare on a good day, but with winter coming on he thought all of them would have made their way further south where the gloomy winter wouldn’t kill most of the plants they preferred. This elk was old, definitely past his mating days, but still young enough to survive the infamously dangerous forests. Guntor slowly pulled out an arrow, careful not to make a sound; He had heard thousands of hunters relate stories of how close they got to achieving a kill as worthy as this animal; only to botch it with a careless movement. The arrow was free of the quiver and immediately perched on the bow’s string. Guntor pulled the bow taught. Hoping that the care he took with his bow would keep it from even the slightest creek. The string was now to his cheek and the elk was still grazing, but it perked up its head by pure instinct and scanned the area. Guntor had seen enough animals do this to know what was going on, He hadn’t been careless and the elk didn’t know he was there, but like every animal- especially older ones- this elk was listening to a kind of sixth sense. He knew from past experience that if he was mostly obscured and kept perfectly still the creature would remain completely unaware of him. Guntor held his breath. He was mostly behind a tree. Perfect. As for staying still, Guntor felt as content as a baby bird asleep in its nest. The elk made an observable decision to not head its sixth sense and turned back to the ground to graze. Guntor allowed himself a half-gin. It’s a fine end to a noble beast he thought as he released the arrow.

He would have hit the elk square in the heart… He really would have, except at the exact moment he let go of the string there came from behind him a thunderously booming, “HELLO!”

Guntor jerked and the arrow that was intended to hit the elk soared into the sky. Fearing the worst he turned around as the elk took this opportunity to bolt from sight. Guntor was relived and slightly peeved but mostly relived to not see an orc, but instead, he saw a red bearded dwarf with a lump on his head stood there on top of the lump were a series of intertwined twigs.

“What are you doing here?” inquired Guntor out of pure curiosity. He wasn’t angry or annoyed because his brain was so confounded that it completely forgot about anger.

“The Hammer came to find you.” Said The Hammer.

“Find me? How did you find me? I’m in the middle of the woods!” he gaped; then he added, “and I’m hunting, being… you know, sneaky.” He admitted meekly.

“Oh, That’s what you were doin’ all serious like. Well, anyway, Owly lead me to you of course.” Claimed The Hammer, as if this were just a normal conversation in any pub. In confirmation Owly swooped down from a tree carrying a twig and alighted on the dwarf’s head. He then began furiously jostling the twig with his beak and a talon, trying to weave it into the nest he was making.

“Why is he making a nest on your head?” asked a mentally anguished Guntor.

“Because I told him to.”

“W…W…Why?” he inquired, now completely defeated and reduced to a stupor.

“Well,” The Hammer began, “he wanted to sit on my head and I told him ‘No!’” he explained, even doing a bad miming of his own voice. “So then, Owly said, ‘Who’ and I told him I didn’t know ‘who’s’ head he could sit on, but then I thought about it.” Which to Guntor seemed very unlikely. “Who has an Owl hat!? NOBODY!!” He proclaimed.

“And the nest?” asked Guntor, cringing in fear of the answer he might receive.

“Owly’s got sharp talons. I didn’t want to scratch my lump.”

Guntor was beginning to regain a little more mental capacity and conversationally stated, “Why not wear a helmet?”

The air around them seemed to explode with sound as The Hammer leaned back and gave the biggest belly laugh that Guntor had ever seen or heard. It lasted for a good two minutes and even required The Hammer to stop and gulp down a few breaths before continuing again. During which time Guntor’s brain once again short circuited as he tried to figure out what was funny; Had something happened? He was in the middle of giving himself a complete pat down to make sure that he hadn’t sprouted horns or other hilarious appendages; when, The Hammer finally stopped due to almost passing out.

He wiped big tears from his eyes and announced, “A HELMET! HA! A HEEELMEEEET! MEEEEEE, WEAR A HELMET! Ugh… You’re funny! A helmet… Why would I wear a helmet…”

Owly ‘whoed’ in annoyance after having to do head acrobatics to keep from falling.

At this point the shattered pieces of Guntor’s brain made a futile attempt at understanding and simply gave up; accepting the jovial dwarf’s logic. “So why exactly did you look for me?”

The dwarf’s facial muscles spasmed with whiplash as he suddenly became deathly serious. “I found out why people don’t wear owl hats…” he said in a macabre tone while gazing into the distance with sad unfocused eyes.

“You found out birds make their nest’s with poop.”

The Hammer gave a disheveled nod of acknowledgement and added, “Now he won’t leave the nest.”

“Owly…” reprimanded Guntor with a stern look.

“Whoooo?” came the faux innocent response, and if owls had shoulders they could shrug, Owly’s would have shrugged. After a few seconds of looking everywhere but at Guntor, Owly ‘whoed’ a sigh and left the lump nest he had fashioned. The Hammer, who seemed to have already resigned himself to a life of owl headedness, opened his eyes as wide Owly’s, as if a miracle had cured him. He casually brushed off the nest, which just a few seconds ago was an impossible action. He began plodding away, but turned around and remembered, “Oh, and everyone’s looking for you. You’ve been gone for about three hours now.” Looking relieved and confident The Hammer swaggered away without a care in the world, even stopping to pick a flower or swing a hammer at something.

Trepidation filled Guntor and fear froze him. ‘Charlatan’s gonna’ be mad…’ he thought, ‘and Mizry will kill me! Then Kheg will take all my stuff as I die…’ a shudder ran through his spine, ‘and worst of all, Myrrdin will keep me alive just to give me an hour long lecture on how to tell time with a stick some sap and a leaf.’ Guntor sprinted toward the earth motes. His only hope was to get there while everyone was looking and pretend to have been napping in some corner the entire time… It didn’t work.

Later that night a carving of an owl on a dwarf’s head was added to the bow.

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Grok's Jurnal Entree 2
Stoopid Fandalin Hoomans

Grok head no hurt and Grok bored so Grok rite in jurnal.

Shim’ra, lady orc from hunt other day get mad Grok forget her name. She hit Grok with club. Grok not hit back cuz he dezerv it and she pregnant. One thing to lose baby in gloreus battle. Another to lose to stoopid angry orc in stoopid fite. Grok not forget Shim’ra name no moor.

Not much happen latly. Grok remembar time a week or so ago when stoopid hoomans from place call “fandelin” come to fite orcs. Was eezy fite cuz hoomans bad at fiting.

Was kwuiet day. Sun shining, stoopid birds woodnt shut up. Grok think about smash birds for bein loud but birds very fast. That change when tower sound horn. Enemy come, gloreus battle come! No bored! Grok pick up big axe n charg out with orc brothurs.

Grok see stoopid hoomans come over hill. Not big groop, eezy pikins for orc. Grok n orcs yell and charge. Hoomans look afrade of mity orc tribe. Hoomans charge too. In feeld orc n hooman clash. Blood spill! Rage take over Grok. Grok see stoopid hooman with sord n sheeld. Sheeld no help hooman. Big axe smash sheeld n gash deep into squishee hooman. Stoopid hooman yell in pain, blood go evrywere! Grok yell in victoree of gloreus kill! Axe get stuck but Grok yank out with much eez.

Grok look for next hooman to make die. Stoopid hoomans not stand chanse to mity orcs. Many dead alredee. Grok see fallen orc tho, Grok get mad and yell. Rage stronk. GROK STRONK! Grok charge thru hoomans. Grok see hooman with bow aim at Grok. Hooman fire but Grok too fast. Hooman bad shot. Grok yell as Grok jump attack hooman with big axe. AXE LAND IN FACE! Stoopid hooman head split and crush! BLOOD! Axe no get stuck this time.

Grok get 2 gloreus kill so far. Grok yell in victoree, but Grok also get coky. Stoopid hooman take Grok by suprize. Grok try to doge but big sword cut Grok across chest! GROK MAD! Stoopid stoopid hooman make Grok bleed bad! Hooman not afrade like othar stoopid hoomans. But Grok stronker than hooman! Grok slash big axe and he cut hooman like hooman cut Grok. Hooman bleed! This please Grok. What not please Grok is hooman still alive! This hooman tuff.

Tuff hooman make anothar slash with big sord at Grok. Grok no surprize this time and doge sord! Now hooman look scare. Grok raise mity axe and with roar that make hooman shit pants he bring down axe HARD! Hooman split open! BLOOD! GUTS! Feeld staind with blood of hoomans! Also orc but not as much.

Hoomans that alive still yell “RETREET!” stoopid hoomans run away. Some cary dead or dyeing. Plenty of dead hoomans to gnaw on for orcs. Orcs yell at coward stoopid hoomans. Taunt them with severd heads and guts of hoomans.

Orcs and Grok return to tribe. We have many dead hoomans to eat and bones to use. Sad tho we have som dead orc brothers. Orcs gather wood n lay dead orc on pire. Orc bow head in respekt n honor fallen brothers in gloreus battle. Grok take honor of lite funural pire. Wood burn. Orc brother body burn. Grok sad to rite this. But Grok nevar forget fallen orcs. Grok use memury to make Grok mad in battle. Mad Grok mean dead enemy!

Grok rite enuff today. Hopfuly Grok rite about not sad time. Gloreus battle not sad tho. Next time Grok will rite more gloreus battle n adventoor!

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An Orc-Load of Trouble

Guntor’s day started off great, almost poetic in fact; the dew of the morning bounced more of the infectious light onto his skin. Even though the ominous tendrils of winter were already starting to creep into everyday life he couldn’t help but be glad for this beautiful, if chilly, morning. As the sun began to awaken, the events of the day also became livelier. He even got to face the villainous Frost Wolves; now, he was sure that people would know his heroic deeds. The day then reached its zenith for Guntor when he found a blue skinned flying beast that was clearly meant for riding. His companions, recognizing the determined and slightly childish glint in his eyes, headed out through dense brush to talk with a banshee that could kill them all by accidentally stubbing a toe or finding a spider. They were almost willing to put up with Guntor and his infatuation with animals just to stay behind and avoid death-by-wail… almost.

It was a few minutes after the sun started heading West that Guntor’s day quickly changed. He had just finished naming the awe-inspiring beast Blue Lightning when Owly The Cartographer II pecked his ear, he isn’t well known for his naming skills.

“Yeah, what is it Owly? I’m trying to get you a flying buddy here pal.” He said as Owly tried to peck a warning into his thick skull.

It was about for pecks in, give or take a peck, when Guntor realized what Owly was trying to warn him about.

“FRESH MEEEEEAT!” shouted the Orc that had spotted the tasty looking, defenseless creature and the pykworm.

Guntor’s eyes opened to about the size of Owly’s and he felt about as small. Owly, the unappreciated hero of the group, immediately flew from Guntor’s increasingly drooping shoulders and knocked him on the head with a flapping wing on the way up. This snapped him out it; Guntor cut Blue Lightning’s rope and began praying to all the gods he had herd Vola mention. He decided to leave out the one’s Mizry talked about because they would probably just laugh and make him trip. Frantically Guntor sprinted for a rope that lead to the top of the center earth mote.

Peabody’s day started off terribly. The intense labors of collecting all those pelts and driving a wagon all the way to these unnatural flying chunks of earth only to have the wagon smashed by a group of uncivilized brutes. Honestly, the barbarism! Things were finally getting better atop the floating island.

“Initiative, that’s it. They’ll be impressed with my initiative.” Peabody said to himself as he looked down at an unconscious Iarno Albrek. He was particularly proud of the new rat-fur-shirt, which somehow made Iarno look even more pathetic. “Or is it ingenuity? Something with an ‘I’.” he was pondering this dilemma when many decidedly unpleasant things happened at once.

From behind him he heard a raucous screech, and when he turned all he could see was a flash of blue fall from the sky. Peabody was most astonished by this sight, but before he could decide whether to run for a building or risk a peak, Guntor screamed up, “Peabody! Come here!”

His butlery duties took over and carried him almost all the way to the edge when he was brought back to what little senses he had. Peabody called out, “Y… Yes, what is it?”

“Wh…What!?” Guntor sputtered back as there was a sound of a large ‘OOF!’, “Just come here!”

Not fully grasping the severity of the situation, Peabody huffed and grabbed a spear that he had been using as a makeshift hoe in a fruitless attempt at the beginnings of a garden. He trudged over mumbling, “Oh, Charlatan’s inept companions. It’s a good thing he had enough sense to put me in charge. They would be positively lost without me.” Then he reached the edge and was greeted with a sight that killed the words in his mouth. Guntor was hanging from a rope he had just cut below him and three Orcs were jumping as high as they could trying to reach him. Peabody stood there absolutely befuddled, his eyes fixed on one Orc in particular. It was a female Orc, a gruesome sight on its own, but this one was very muscular and very pregnant. Something about abs on top of a baby bump made Peabody want to throw up. Guntor began shouting things at him and scared whitless Peabody did what he asked. Peabody pulled up ropes as Guntor shot arrows and pestered the Orcs.

Finally, after what seemed like days of siege, the Orcs picked up their prize meat and stomped away; Guntor sat dejected and muttered something about Blue Lightning and Peabody began making a pair of rat-fur-pants that weren’t for Iarno.

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