Farther West Than West

Days Two and Three

The Village of Re Albi

After escorting the prince to Havnor Keep, we were thanked by King Martin, if only breifly, and were then handed off to Colonel Faust. I have only seen Col. Faust on one other occasion, and it was during my training in the Havnor militia, when he spoke at our graduation ceremony. Now able to speak with him personally, I can assure you, he is the right man for the job. His being a tiefling is initially unsettling, but he gets things done, and I can respect a man of action.

Col. Faust asked us what we knew about the night’s events, and we told him our story as best we could. It seems the demon’s presence has caused a panic in the city, and some of the more opportunistic citizens have taken to looting. Also, a fire broke out down at the docks, and if not contained soon, it will definately put a strain on Havnor’s commerce. After hearing our tale and determining we were not involved with the plot, Col. Faust awarded us each 150 gold pieces and a fine weapon as well. I took a long spear; if it fails me in combat, at least it will look nice on my wall.

We spent the remainder of the night in a guest room of the Keep. A man could get used to such luxury! The following morning Col. Faust approached us and asked if we were interested in doing some work for him. I regretfully informed him I had my caravan to escort back to Fallcrest, and we had already delayed our departure to see the end of the festival. I said my goodbyes to the group, then headed out to rendezvous with my waiting caravan. It seemed the eladrin fellow who called himself “The Doctor” also had something to attend to, but Lunesta and Gregg took up Col. Faust’s offer. I wish them all the best of luck.

At the Eastern gate, my caravan was prepped and ready to leave just as we had planned the day before. After a giving the train a once-over, we headed out towards Fallcrest. Hopefully the clear weather will persist; it will likely take us 5 days to get back to Fallcrest with the wagons loaded to bursting as they are. I turned over command of the caravan to Lt. Brownstone, then retreated to my wagon for some additional rest; my body doesn’t recover nearly as well as it once did.

Personal Journals Capt. Daniel Farnsworth 10-27-4315 CY


We had all gathered in the tavern to hear the bard that had arrived in town. We did’t get many traveling acts in Re Albi. Back then our little village had only about 50 people. We used to have more people when the mines were operational, but ever since they had stopped producing, as soon as anyone got any coin in their pocket they left Re Albi without a second thought. There wasn’t much chance of a future in our corner of the kingdom. Some of the boys joined the royal militia, and got to go to Havnor for training. But soon after they would be back, stationed at the old fort up the hill outside of town. There wasn’t much to do at the fort now that the mines didn’t need protecting and no one traveled the roads anymore, but at least being in the King’s service gave them a sense of pride they didn’t have before.

As I was saying, when it happened we had all gathered in the tavern to hear the bard that had come through. He must have been down on his luck to be forced to play our tavern, but I doubted he thought it would get as bad as it did. He had a good singing voice, and he played the mandolin like nobody’s business. Good enough for the King’s court I imagine; couldn’t begin to think what he must have done to be forced to play for pennies out here on the fringes. But I digress; the bard was halfway through his third song when it happened.

They appeared as if from nowhere, crazed men with devilish looks in their eyes. The leader was a half-orc who was covered head to toe with ornate tattoos, as fearsome a visage as one could ever have the misfortune of seeing. They stormed through the tavern, savagely beating anyone who dared to resist them. I was already past my prime at this point, and had no hopes of fighting back. The best we could hope for was for the fellas at the fort to come to our aid. After they had corraled us all up, they marched us to the fort, and I knew no help was coming. We were held in the prison cells below the fort, and I could see that most of the fort’s soldirs were down in the cells with us. Jansen’s boy was killed during the attack of the fort, but I was told he took two of them bastards with him.

Soon after we were captured, the tattoed man came down to the cells and told us the portal was ready, and that all those able to lift a shovel were coming with him. Like I had said, I was already in my early fifties at this time, but they figured I was good enough for manual labor, and lucky for me too. They left the young children and the old folks in the cells then marched us to the top of the watchtower of the fort. On our way up I overheard the tattoed man talking to another nasty looking half-orc about using the blood of the young-ones for some summoning ritual and the prince Rodric. I knew then nothing could be done for them and I said a quick prayer to Pelor to ease their suffering.

At the top of the watchtower was a teleportation circle, and we were taken through it by the tattooed man. We arrived at what looked like a dig-site in what must be the dry-land; the mountains that are South of Re Albi were now to the West. They marched us down to the edge of the site and gave us picks and shovels and told us to start digging. Anyone attempting to flee or resist would be killed on the spot, and I didn’t doubt them for a second. There were already people digging at the site; some Goliaths who had been attacked in Winter’s Bite, some Dwarves who had been trading along the eastern edge of the dry-land, and some Humans and Half-orcs who were native to the area. I was able to learn that they had all been attacked similar to us, the dwarves were captured two weeks before us, and had been there the longest.

It was quickly apparent we weren’t digging some random hole in the desert; we were unearthing a temple! Whatever was in there, the tattooed man wanted it, and he worked us to death. I had been there three or four days and was wondering how much longer I could possibly go, when I noticed a soldier come down from the teleportation circle and alerted the tatooed man that there was a commotion at the old fort. So help had come at last! The soldier didn’t appear worried, he was just reporting events. My heart sunk at this, but then they appeared!

It looked like the bard had gone for help! Out of the teleportation circle walked him, a dragonborn wielding a greatsword, and what could have only been a wizard. I didn’t know what three people could possibly do to save us, but they were the best help we had available.

-As told to Chief Historian Che’Terar by Mr. Darwin Smithwain 4-17-4335 CY

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