Bedrock Brigade Mercenary Corps

In the Bleak Midwinter & Patronage & Pestilence

It has been a rather fortunte and unfortunate turn of events for me these past few days in Suzail. Although, luckily with the two contracts I’ve completed in the Bedrock Brigade, both have had favourable outcomes. Perhaps it’s par for the course, given my history though, that one was good and one was bad…I shall begin with the first contract, the good one.

A tournament held by the local guttersnipes, I mean ‘nobles’, (They pale in comparison to the nobles I left behind in my place fo birth) was taking place in Suzail. I won’t bore myself with the details, but needless to say there was trouble about. Minor perhaps, but the said trouble was thievery. By Selune, can’t these coloured-skins learn their place? Steal from the dead, not the living. I digress though. The aforementioned thievery consisted of the usual minor wares one might associate with these Human-run lands; But it also included the trophies being awarded. Of course the guttersnipes (nobles), seemed slighted about it.

And so the Brigade answered the call. Hmm, I may have to use that as a motto… Where was I? Yes, we were issued to investigate the thefts and find the culprits and the stolen items. Personally I am not one for such matters, because I’d rather read or spellsling, but I have sworn an oath to this company, and I hold it in the same regard as I do my oath to Selune, when her Moon first led me out of the existance I had once endured.

Interestingly enough, our investigation included participating in the events…in order to gleam more information from the colored-skins. Our company, well…mostly outshined the rest. I am not one to gloat, but I must praise my comrades here. From them I have gleamed that a Dragonborn, or scale-skin, are cunning wrestlers, not that I care about physical things. A Dwarf, of beard-skin, may not be the reputable drinkers I have heard about, but their wisdom and depth of understanding these other beings never ceases to amaze me…but I fail to understand why most seem to talk with a dodgy accent. It’s as if they relish being stereo-typed as all the same. Note to self: Study the effects of changing their voices later on, they need it. Besides a card game, which I know nothing of, we succeded in the archery, spellcasting and riddle challenges. I must commend the shape-skin caster as well. She, or He, or It…far exceeded my abilities, and took the spellcasting easily. Luckily for myself, my book-knowledge proved worthy of the riddle. Second note to self: Continue book studies.

The information gleamed from our wins, was…faulty at best. We split and searched our leads. Pointings towards the halflings, or half-skins, were common, but out of place. I am not certain what the others found, but the halflings themselves had arcane scripts pointing towards a fey-skin grotto and a water well for good fortune offerings.

My memory is fuzzy at this moment on, because I was starting to lose my usual patience, after all I do not care for investigations. Needless to say though, our company came to same conclusions and eventually neared the well, ready to enter. Upon arriving we saw Kobolds and Gnomes, or odd-skins, arguing in the language of dragons, which understanding it, was all silly insults. Our group waded into the fray and captured one of the Kobolds and odd-skins. They told of two mighty dragons that were arguing over bragging rights, at least that’s what I saw it as. I must note our archer seemed…skidish at the mention of dragons. Perhaps this is why fey-skins who are not Drow are held in such little regard to my kind. Again I digress though… We delved into the well and found, much to my amusement, two fairy dragons, complete with the missing items and other Kobolds and odd-skins. Although I was mentally laughing at our fey-skin archer, I was more content to watch the events that unnfolded. Our beard-skin cleric was more then able to come to terms with both fey-dragons and their dispute…to settle the qualms and thievery, as well as return the tropies though, we’d have to win the last tournament and the prize of some fey-skin made wine.

Again, here I must commend all the members of our company, even the fey-skin archer. Their efforts in preparing for the joust as it’s called, were…beyond measure. For some reason though, I was chosen to ride atop the horse. Perhaps Selune would have been shining had it been night, but my robe-wearing self, who had never ridden these horses before, won. It was a triumph for all wizard-kind to be sure. The looks on the coloured-skins faces was priceless, and I shall always remember that day. And thus, with our winnings in hand, we solved the problems of the day for all concerned…it was grand day.

That of course leads me to the second commission offered to the Brigade, and one of my worst moments. I will be brief on this event however, because I wish to put it far behind me. Perhaps others will tell the tale better, but I care not to repeat this outside this journal, ever.

We began by escorting needed medicine to a plague outbreak in another part of the region. The details of it, I did not gleam, as I was only concerned about our duty at the time. The others choose a route, although we were approached my a lady who I thought as rather dodgy at the time, with two disgusting coloured-skins in tow. No not coloured skins…scar-skins. She wished to percure a vial of the medicine for her son. We did not believe her at the time and refused. And sohaving concluded that, we picked up our cargo from a ship at port. From there we began our escort down a well-used route. Of course, we were ambushed, although our company did a good job of attemtping to secure the road beforehand. How do I know we were ambushed? Why the two arrows that protuded from my robe of course…this was the start of my bad tidings. The combat was long, and my spells failed me. Nothing but fizzles, save for one time. It was so bad for myself, that I hid under one of our wagons. Again I care not to relive this event, but needless to say the others defeated the ambushers; otherwise I would not be writing this, now would I.

To add insult to injury however, upon delivering the medicines, it was found that a majority of the items had been replaced with stones. From there it was more of the investigating that I loathe, but eventually we ended up at the Lady’s house to look for answers. Inside we found only more questions…after almost poisoining the Lady’s quite real son, with our supposed medicine cure, myself and another managed to tend to the boy and stabalise him. From here we learned that the ‘cure’ for the plague was not a cure at all, but a poison. from here it ws a race to keep the medicine from being distributed further, and perhaps finding the real medicine if possible.

Our efforts led us to a small shop surrounded by a large mob of people wishing for the medicine inside it. Some quick thinking by our company, and a few gohst sounds from myself, and the mob mostly ran towards our ‘new’ sounding source for the cure near the guard gates. Now when I say mostly, I mean to say is that a few ruffians had stayed behind…and combat began again…to my disadvantage. Spell failures…that’s all I remember of the battle. That and behind hit constantly by Selunes own enemies, the evil were beings who have turned from the light of the moon. I recall our party was almost killed to a man, but I gathered the shred of wit I had left, and tended to the warforged, or metal-skin, cleric who saved us all with his own healing of another company member. I feinged more injuries and fizzled more spells. But the others of the company won, and despite grevious wounds, overcame the were-creatures and the other followers. Upon resting, which was quite needed, we entered the shop…inside we found the source of our problems.

A troubled and corpulent looking coloured-skin sat upon a gaudy throne an babbled something about a vision, before releasing a rope that was abot to unleash vermin and more poisoined ‘cures’ to the populace. Again quick thinking reigned, and the others stoped the wagons and vermin from leaving, (Third note to self: These metal-skins are amazing creatures, and I must study more about them.) as I mage-handed the rope back into place, sealing the shop again. The corpulent coloured-skin could do nothing, and we let the city guards ‘clean up.’

Through these two lop-sided adventures, I have gained arcane strength, and perhaps will be promoted in the Company. But I must do some reflecting and studying, if I am ever able to stop these spell-fizzles from happening in such frequency again. With more experience perhaps it will change.

For Selune, and for the redemption of the shadows. —-Graven Silverkin


Ah knw whit ye pure techt abit talkin’ funay. Auld Cash cannae stain when dwarves pit oan airs.


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