Bedrock Brigade Mercenary Corps

Lost Temple of the Fey Gods

Aglarond. Whenever I think of this region, I think to myself: Agro-land. Why? Farms. Truth be told, though I know little of the coloured-skins ways for such things, the vibrancy of such places is astounding. Though I will never admit it openly, I envy the green they live in. Perhaps that is how I was attracted to the followers of Selune? (Note to self: If I encounter a Drow female dancing outdoors, bed her.) Sorry, where was I? Yes, Aglarond. The Brigade received word from a farming community in Halendos of work. Something to do with fairies. After my near dismal failings in Cormyr I lent myself to the tutelage of a more experienced wizard in our employ. Although I did it with the interest in seeing his magic’s (especially his version of my now in-famous magic fizzle), I am surprised by the elemental magic’s he controls. A far more elaborate cry from my shadows and force, but then again such flash is not for my kin. He must have passed on something to me, because I did not fizzle as much as before, but again I was not able to make a better account of myself completely. I must note here though, that I have acquired the services of a book-imp as my familiar now. She should help my studies further and perhaps research more into my magic fizzles. Pardon my digression in this journal again, but I had to bow to the superior mage ahead of time. Now, as to the job at hand, as we arrived in the farm, myself, my mage-tutor, and a fellow scale-skin warrior we met by three adventures who had also taken up the call. An odd coloured-skin monk, who moved with the grace of a shadow upon a wind, another scale-skin who sang surprisingly well, (Second note to self: These scale-skins are the greatest surprise since coming into this realm. I should write a treatise on this species and their amazing prowess in most areas. I would not be surprised if they create the next super-empire.) and a giant-skin warden of the lands who well…what lacking in mental capacity made up for with sheer brute force, of course. I’m a tad fuzzy about how we came upon our employments contract, but some farmers appeared to be arguing over a pot. Our newly greeted scale-skin bard said a phrase that I remember having to do with a certain non-mentionable magic group and one of them immediately buggered off. Perhaps more will come of that action later. After calming that situation the two remaining farmers hired on us to overcome a problem with the local fey-skins. Apparently, they were more…grim than usual. Pranks were not just pranks, but grievous and hazardous tricks to the farms and its people and animals. I over-heard something about cows and fields, but I’m a wizard not a farmer. With a goal in hand (i.e.: to look to the fey-skins), we set out to the woods. As we set out, we heard the voice of a ghostly fey-skin come from a wizened crow of a coloured-skin women; something about a thrice-bound tree and the heart of light defeating the heart of darkness. An obvious bode of things to come. We entered and found upon ourselves some small fairy-skins ‘playing’ about. Attempting to gain their attention, our scale-skin singer pranced and sang, and somehow managed to lose trousers that he was not wearing to begin with, odd indeed these fairies. Myself and my tutor applied appropriate ‘mood’ lighting of course. (Third note to self: I may fizzle in combat, but my cantrips are second to none. If worse comes to worse, consider becoming a tavern entertainer.) Well, we certainly gained the fairy-skins attention. They decided to have us play some sport with a literal ogre of a ‘little boy’, who was quite keen on a game of ‘Smash’. I instantly called upon Gong, the afore-mentioned giant-skin warden. In the ensuing ‘smash’ game, I managed to get off one of my magic fizzles to my credit. I also came upon the arcane realisation that some of the land had ley-lines, and seemed to enhance magic’s slightly. Needless to say I headed straight towards one…a fact that would later turn to almost be my undoing again. To my credit I found a new use for my mage hand for entertainment value during battle. Perhaps ‘Knock-knock’ will become more famous then my magic-fizzle. With our group having defeated the little boy (without his death we should happily note), we learned of a corruption having affected the fairy-skins land. One of their own went to seek it out but never returned. Having learned its location, we set off. Going deeper into the woods we were set upon some corrupted animals and a dodgy as looking Minotaur. Here is where my heading towards a ley-line nearly got myself sent to my name’s sake again. (Fourth note to self: Did my parents know I would be having one foot in the grave so often?) I ran towards a place that would hopefully enhance my spells, only to once again fizzle. As a ‘reward’ I was set upon three hounds and made a rather bloody mess. Calling upon Selune, I crawled out of the immediate danger towards the others who were also engaged. I can’t recall how the others fared at this time, as I was too busy cursing my wounds. Fortunately for me our scale-skin bard encouraged my self-healing and I managed to slay a cat animal with my magic fizzle, for once. I do recall a rather massive cracking sound during the battle…well, more the once, it turns out our scale-skin warrior and the Minotaur were charging each other furiously. I am glad sometimes to stick to the rear and engage foes from afar now.

Having defeated the aggressors, we came upon a dense pack of forest, which turned out to be our destination. ‘Inside’ if you could call it that, we came upon a pool and a dying fairy-skin woman. As she gave her warnings about what we were to face and how we must cleanse the corruption from her very own tree, she gave of her life-force and imparted upon us a sphere of fairy-power. Sadly, she turned into a tree and will now lend a shadow to the pool, may Selune grace her. Our monk took the sphere with the intention of making haste to the tree and thus ending the peril; it seemed like a logical idea at the time…then we entered the main chamber and my heart raced. Inside were many fey-skins with one in particular around the now-dying corrupted tree, performing some dark ritual. They all blocked the way, but still our monk made for the tree, and got halfway there before being nearly felled. Fortunately for him, our scale-skin bard was quick to his aid, but once again the monk made for the tree…and nearly made it to his goal, before becoming stuck in the wrangling roots of the tree. I must note that prowess of the scale-skin warrior who charges into battle with skill, and my wizard tutor whose fire and ice wrecks havoc to his foes. The brigade is fortunate to have them. As to myself, I only managed to get two of my magic fizzles which are better than my last cowardly acts in Cormyr. But the real credit for fast thinking goes to my mage-tutor who used his own mage hand to collect the fairy-sphere from the monk and place it in the tree. After this event though, my mind is once again fuzzy…I believe I was overcome with the nature-magics that may have infused the area, fighting the corruption. When I ‘came to’, I had found we had defeated the corrupting fey-skins and cleansed the tree. We returned to the fairy-skins and they parted upon us a gift, and the farmers paid us for our efforts. I for once, came out happily knowing we completed a task better than before, and that I am not a total and complete failure as a wizard. As a note I have now gained a magical staff, which will hopefully empower my magic fizzles to perhaps hit more often. I will consult my imp for further study now, and sign this journal off.

For Selune, and the dim-light shadows.

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

CORM1-5 In the Bleak Midwinter
The Power of Friendship and Alcohol

Journal of Cashric, Champion of Moradin

I be enjoying a wee pint in me favorite South Ward tavern when Graven Silverkin and Vulgrim Han’dar (he be of the Warbringer clan) be coming in and saying Delf had a job for us. It was back to Cormyr once again for old Cash, this time to help some Lord Severin be his name) clear up some trouble in his realm. Details be scarce but we soon learned that Severin recently be cleared of treason charge after attacking Izaard, another Lord of that realm. And even more interesting to me (as it always comes down to the lasses) they both be vying for the affections of some Lady Redfren. We joined up with a couple of free-lancers for this mission. Wodewick and Sphinx a couple of cats, one on four legs and one on two. Wodewick seemed like a stout fellow and Sphinx turned out to be a wee lass who was good with a spell.

We arrived to find Lord Severin’s midwinter carnival already abustle with folk from all over. Severin he tells us there’s been thieving afoot…lots of it and he wants to get to the bottom of it. Even the most daft would reason that Lord Izaard be behind it, so our party set out on the toughest battle, the battle for truth…getting such scuttle butt from the high society in attendance was not going to be easy. Only by winning the day of each tournament would we be granted access to each noble.

Vulgrim, he near bent some poor smith’s apprentice in half and took the day on the wrestling field. Wodewick sent his arrows straight and true to win Archery, but his mettle did not extend to cards as he lost his shirt (but not his armor) in 3 Dragon Ante. Sphinx bested other wizards in sorcery (can’t profess to understand too much about that). And Graven beat all oncomers in Riddles. For my part I took to a’drinkin…. a drinking contest that is…I don’t remember much about it but I think I must have won cause they had me do it twice! It all be great sport, but not much information did we gain. Graven went to the Halflings (who half the festival thought were behind the thefts) and learned some things, Vulgrim went to Lord Izaard would wouldn’t even talk to him. And I went to question the house servant boy, but it wasn’t until I brought Vulgrim and Graven with me that the nancy boy finally spilled the beans about some Fey Magic well outside of town. Meanwhile Wodewick and Sphinx tracking a Kobold that we had seen running from the festival grounds also arrived at the same well.

At the well both kobolds and wild-eyed gnomes were fighting. Of course as we arrived they decided to put their differences behind them and turn attentions and weapons on us. I must confess I thought they would be easy sport, but they took down Vulgrim and Wodewick, and almost had old Cash on the ropes before we took them down. Our captives then told us of two dragons, a blue and a green that they each be following these two draconic troublemakers be sending their minions to the festival in a contest to capture the most trophies. Now old Cash isn’t such a fool as to go attacking two Dragons (and Wodewick be in agreement with his recent brush with leaving the Prime Material), but I figure maybe we can talk to them an pit one against the other. But I was wrong on two accounts. One we need not be afeared by these beasts as they only be wee faerie dragons, and two it be obvious to old Cash that these Dragons actually be best of friends. It seems an argument about who drank the last of some elder flower wine be behind the whole feud. And it happen to be that the Eladrin Princess be offering such a prize to whoever wins the jousting tournament the next day. The dragons agreed to return all the stolen loot in exchange for a new cask of wine.

The net day showed a sight I had never seen. You see we needed to win that joust, so we worked as the team we are to forge every advantage. We walked that field, we sized up the competition, we prepared our horse, we mined our competition for information, and planted our own, and then we were ready to present our champion….. the wizard Graven atop his steed bested every man (and with his wizards robes aflowing!). We took the prize, settled peace among the wee dragons, and returned the stolen goods. Vulgrim and I, we also be promoted to Private in the brigade as a result of our work.

Stout hearts, hard iron, and the will of Moradin once again prevailed good over chaos.

CORM1-5 In the Bleak Midwinter There is something rotten in the city of Suzail. While a midwinter festival brings throngs of competitors, merchants, and spectators, it also brings an element of danger. When the host turns to heroes for help, they must uncover what lurks under the city’s snow and ice

CORM07 SWEET AS HONEY You were able to retrieve the stolen honey of Lazlo Gern, the Sembian honey merchant, earning you a friend who has ties to the Sembian community.

CORM09 DRACONIC DIPLOMAT You have resolved the conflict between two faerie dragons through diplomacy. One or both may be of service to you in the future.


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