Boris’s Guard

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The fog that had come in from the trees at night was expected. Boris had planned for this and had set up mounted torches at the edge of their camp that ensured that there were no significant shadows between the trees and where they had stopped for the night. Cookie, Luke, had organised enough food for the guard, the party and even the prisoners and was busy ensuring everyone got fed. When he returned from the wagons though he had a concerned look on his face.

“The prisoners won’t eat. They keep looking out beyond the torchlight like a Tarrasque is about to step out of it and eat them. Maybe the adventurers are right, when we saw those tracks the prisoners mentioned that something was after them.” he continued as he handed a bowl of stew to the party – it was good stew.

Boris was the last to eat and as usual as per the last few nights, he was the one who insisted that he walk to each torch mounted on a post and ensure that they were lit and placed correctly. As the guards watched Boris walking about, a large broad headed axe was held ready in his hand but swung by his side. “What do you think they did?” one of the guards, Ron asked. “If they are spooked by something following them, maybe they betrayed a cartel?”

“Nah I reckon they were found to be spies from the fey. You know that they inhabit these woods?” Kat said looking around the woods with a twinkle in her eye.

“You’re all wrong. They are just normal prisoners. Probably thieves.” Dorn said as he chewed on his stew.

“But why are we being paid this much to guard them to Pensevtil. You know that a wizard runs that place? He is only interested in the truly messed up and arcane.” Raff said boldly as he leaned forward.

“Now let’s not go looking into ghost stories now. We have reason to suspect that there may be people that want this group free but the chance of that is low.” Em, Boris’s second in command announced as she watched some of the other guards start talking. “Besides, we’re scarier than whatever is out there.” she added which brought upon a small cheer.

“Enough of that.” Boris said, appearing as if a ghost himself behind the guards. “I want three guards on watch at any time tonight. This fog may be natural but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Tomorrow we will ensure we set up above the fog so we have better visibility.” he said as he grabbed a bowl of stew from Cookie, thanking him as he sat down. 

“Now I spent some time thinking about the bandits that we encountered on the way here – I think they were just being opportunistic. Thinking to make some coin from the prisoners after they disposed of us.” he mused as he ate. “Any other theories?”

“From the ones we dispatched there was nothing to indicate otherwise.” Dorn replied, normally the silent one of the group.

“One did flee, but I got him with my bow” Kat said as she mimed firing an arrow.

“Yeah he won’t last more than a day with that wound” Raff added, the others and Boris nodding.

“But I don’t think he was that wounded. Something was a bit off about that one bandit fleeing. Normally Kat’s shots lay a man flat in the ground. But this one kept running. Something unnatural about that unless,” Em paused for a moment, “Unless Kat – were you off your game?”

Kat mocked looking shocked and insulted “Why I never. I am never off my game.” she replied, shooting a mock-glare at Em.

“Exactly, mark my words. That one that escaped wasn’t natural.” Em added. Boris nodded before adding “Ensure that we keep an eye out until we drop off the prisoners. If you see something odd, shoot first, ask questions later.” he said as he brought out a peculiar medallion and looked knowingly at everyone – the party inclusive.

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The Guard

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Morrowdeep’s Miners and Minors

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The young dwarven lass pushed through the large oaken doors to the Wispy Willow, one of the few drinking establishments that still let her in. She pulled up a stool at the bar and sighed heavily, she had just left this seat not even an hour ago and she was already sitting back down at the table. After a moment she felt the familiar presence of the bartender looming over her.

“What will it be now Hiljor? I wasn’t expecting you at least for another hour or so for lunch.” the older man asked without a hint of malice in his voice.

“That Gregory just riled me up, that’s all Pastor. I’ll just have some bread and cheese – will skip the ale until I can pay you back for the last one you poured me.” she murmured behind her heavyset arms. The man shook his head and disappeared behind the doors behind him. A few moments later a plate of bread, some cheese and some roasted meat was placed in front of her – with a mug of ale.

“If you can look at the lanterns and work out why they aint working that would count us square.” Pastor, the old innkeep, said with a smile as Hiljor looked up. Pastor was one of the last businesses in Morrowdeep that used the old lanterns instead of the Lanternstone. Hiljor appreciated this and was grateful that she could still use her natural affinity for this technical work to good use.

“I’ll have them working by the end of the day. Don’t worry about that, but I will still get the coin to you to pay for your hospitality” she mumbled, she didn’t feel like she could suffer too many blows to her ego today.

“Your dad was a good worker, a credit to the village. I just want to make sure that you have a better life here than he did. You should avoid Gregor, you can’t get in trouble with the guard again.” Pastor said as she tapped her twice on the shoulder and went to serve another customer.

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The forest was bright and noisy in the mid-morning sun and Gwen strolled more carefree than normally. Her older brothers stood nearby and stood watch while her and the other girls gathered mushrooms and other herbs. She knew what to look for most of the time and the order was rather large this time and some of it was harder to find. She thought she knew where to find the riverwort but her brothers refused to let her go into the woods.

But the order required it and if they didn’t bring it back they wouldn’t get paid well. As she watched her brothers keep a watchful eye for danger she slunk off. Being slight and smaller than the other older children it was easy to move about unnoticed and soon she was passing the thick bark of the trees that grew close to the river. As she pushed through the last bushes she spied what she was looking for – a fallen log sitting near a small stream.

She was always a studious student and could memorise the herbs, plants and mushrooms that grew in the woods, hills and caves near Morrowdeep. This made her a credit to her family’s name and she prided herself in her ability to source the rarest ingredients. Carefully looking around the trunk of a large tree she paused and looked about the river for signs of danger. Seeing none she moved forward quickly and drew the small knife that she would need to remove the fungi from the log.

She spotted it, there deep in the log the riverwort. Pushing herself deeper into the log she extended her arm and cut off many of the flat, liver looking fungus before crawling backwards. “Riverwort, useful to stop bleeding and can relieve pain and fevers. But you already knew that didn’t you lass?” a voice said from above her.

Startled, she fell backwards and let out a small shout – her brothers called her name in the distance. “I didn’t see you there. I swear I checked. How… Who…?” she stammered.

A young woman sat there in layers of green and brown cloth. She smiled broadly and produced a flower from a basket she had next to her. “Just a friend, I also was looking for riverwort and other ingredients. Do you know where I can find pink tongue? It’s been a long time since I’ve been in these woods and I can’t remember where they are.”

“You can find them closer to the mountains, they grow attached to the underside of the grew stones.” Gwen said as she took the flower the woman offered her. “Thanks, I haven’t seen a starburst lily outside of books.” she replied, looking at the flower.

“Must be the first of the season. Thanks for your help, miss…?” the woman smiled and waited.

“Gwen. Gwen Thistlewick.” Gwen said as her brothers called again, angrier.

“It sounds like you are in a hurry.” the woman said with a wrinkle in her nose. Gwen smiled, stood and as she dusted herself off she skipped off towards her brothers. She looked back towards the woman but saw that she was already moving off towards the mountains. She ran through the short distance of the forest to her brothers and, upon finding them she saw the worry and anger in their faces.

“Where have you been! I thought we told you not to leave the group?” her older brother, Caden asked.

“I found the riverwort – we needed it for the order and I knew where it would be.” she replied. “Oh and I got this!” she exclaimed as she showed the starburst lily.

“Where did you find that?” her other brother, Tom, asked. He was always more interested in the herbalism business than Caden.

“A woman gave it to me. She was looking for riverwort and pink tongue and I told her where to find it.” she replied with a broader smile. Tom looked to Caden, his face wrought with worry. “Starburst lily hasn’t grown here for years. Riverwort and pink tongue you said?” Tom questioned again, his hand going to an arrow and knocking it in the bow. “A curious mix. I think we best return back. I need to talk to the alchemist.”

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Shepherds of the Dead

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First of his kind

The late Richard Spiritbane was born three centuries ago, nearly to the date of his death. As the first priest of Kelemvor in Oakspire he was responsible for rooting out the undead in the Mystwood forest. His name was granted to him from Kelemvor after the source of undead was discovered to be a conclave of Banshees which himself, and a handful of his brethren dispatched and silenced.

The undead have risen a few times over the centuries as the growing city required more materials which they sources locally, as all good cities do. However the more sources of undead that Richard disposed of the more of his brethren he lost and the more unholy relics they uncovered. Soon the Chamber of Remembrance, a crypt beneath the church of Kelemvor, was built to not only store those who had passed but also encase the unholy relics that the priests had died to rid the world of. The sanctified lands and ever watchful gaze of not only Richard but the other Shepherds of the dead kept the unholy energies from corrupting the bodies encased in stone beneath the hallowed halls.

However this now flowing treasure trove of unholy relics attracted all kinds of foul and tainted beings and as the risk increased something must be done. That is when Kelemvor first extended the life of one of his priests, Richard Spiritbane. Appearing on the birthday of the high priest the deity of death proclaimed that he would grant a measure of temporary immortality to Richard, extending his natural life by another year upon which the god would again determine whether he would extend his blessing. This reoccurred for another two hundred and twenty years and during this time Richard trained a venerable army of the warrior priests to defend the halls beneath and the lands above and beyond the walls of the city of Oakspire.

Guardian of the Chamber of Remembrance

Brother Tobias Weatherborn was a curiosity in the city where death was revered. As a child he was found with a necromancer and used as a living energy buffer. The High priest himself disposed of the necromancer and when he turned his great-blade to the child he simply saw an innocent being used. Taking the boy in he sought to try and give him the life he deserved.

However it wasn’t long until the boy showed promise in hunting out the undead and evil. Being used as a conduit of power for quite some time left him sensitive to dark magics and he thwarted many attempts at stealing the unholy artefacts that were buried in the Chamber of Remembrance. As he came of age his power blossomed and he was indoctrinated into the priesthood of Kelemvor.

Appointed as a brother to the priesthood Brother Tobias guards the crypts to ensure that the faithful and devout to Kelemvor, his greatest warriors lie undisturbed. His secondary duty is to seek truth as evil uses lies as a weapon against the faithful. He was instituted as the Cryptguard and since then not a single emissary of the unholy arts has made it past his watchful gaze, or his blade.

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