The Long Road of Power

Lessons in writing - Finbar
with the help of Catheshal


Koff is cough.
Bow is bough.
Threw is through.
Ruff is rough.

Ah, I give up…….

Odyssey - Finbar Page Six

Oh Droskar Droskar quite revealed,
see how these bandi’ts fates are sealed.
Sivilisashun riding high,
We clens the land
and offir hand
of frendship
to those who would not die,
but instead work with us to build a grate land.
Is that so hard to understand?

This poim was by Finbar. Nuff sed.

Odyssey - Finbar Page Five

Free at last. That is how I feel. Heavy burden lifted. Dett repayed. And so we travel into the hinterland. Ritt says we have power to deal with bandits. And bandits there bee. We confirm this with the outpost runners. They seem like onnest humans. Boldly do those bandits ride in, and boldly are they dispachd. Wun was kept. We asked him kwestions. We lernned about a wicked woman. He seemed a good man but it was decided no mercy for bandits so I asked him if he wanted to convay any last wurds to Droskar. He was quite rude. I delivverd justice in the name of the Kingdom. Nuff sed by Finbar.

Nothing of consequence and an old 'friend'

Over the next week the Hellknight Spellcaster used earthquakes to collapse all fissures along the road, sealing any remaining goblinoids underground.
Within the week after the fissures collapse, news arrived that the Hellknights had successfully taken the Fortress City of Bori and the Archduke had also been killed in the fighting.

At the end of that same week, Karmic Vain (Kazemiers eyes and ears) arrives, as per his usual, walking past all guards completely unnoticed and talking directly to each individual party member. Giving a letter of thanks from Kazemier and a full clearance of any dept with a chit of credit. You feel a weight lifted from your collected shoulders that you never even realized was there.

The letter also indicated that opportunities were arising from within the nation of Brevoy (a region caravans will pass through) to partake in a taming project of unclaimed lands to the south of Brevoy, known as the Stolen Lands. Although he muses as to why that is, as in his living memory, no-one had ever truly claimed it for themselves. If interested your to let Karmic know and he’ll make the necessary arrangements.

Odyssey - Finbar Page Four

Deep and unsettling, this place of haff light and haff life. Deddly Gostes. Strange gleemings. Moving wolls. Yes. Moving wolls. I wait to be sure, reddying my greatsword. But this is my undoing. Silver screems shatter my ears and make me stagger around like a drunken giant, helpless and vunnerabill. Giant silver wyrm attack!

And then I am hit. Unconshus! But we’ve got a good team hear. They get me out and we leave the place. Back to the fort. They offer us magic whispers and the nome and paladin say no? What kind of kings will they make? No, maybe we need a kween?

Anyway, Owlbears! I fukkin hate owlbears! Nuff sed by Finbar.

Odyssey - Finbar Page Three

Stares! There be plenty in Golushkin, but nun like this. Filled with savage shadow. Goste, yet not goste; and so many two! Bizzier than a dig root to a mithral mine! And at the bottom: More of them two! Hard to tell witch ones are real and witch are not. Droskar give me strength!

Everywhere we go, these gostes appear: Duergar gostes mainly, but a giant wyrm hits me two. Thanks bee to that songstress with the wand of fisical repair. But at last we find a secret room with some decent booty. Hunnied wine will be good for those long nites to cum. Nuff sed by Finbar.

Musings of Pipe Smoking Gnome

Taur_uin_Taur_Avatar.jpg "Well that was inconvenient. Where was I? Oh aye… A chicken, mushrooms, butter, garlic and maybe some thyme. That sounds about right.

Odyssey - Finbar Page Two

By the teechings of Warcleric Ragnor Darkcave, all strands of mistry must konverge. Finding homesteds empty of there owners, we soon track down the truth. Dark savige Duergar with their wiley invisibill ways are no match for us. There Kaptain gave good but ran at the end and disappeared. But I heard something at the window, and Droskar must have gided me because I landed rite on top of him when I jumped out the window. Skwashed! Hurt me two thow…

So we follow the strands. A duergar prisiner and a young lad we found, and took them back to town, stopping only for a swift half, before we hedded on out to the old mine. A lonely guard in a tower is broht down by many arrows – two many if you ask me. Weezilman Taur frees a flok of birds and we enter the cave. Many pathways. Poisonous gas. Lucky for us we have magick on our side. Nuf sed by Finbar for now.

Farms and a Wrecking Ball


Upon leaving the cottage the group continued on their way to the outlying farms. The first two greeted the party fearfully, giving assurances of timely delivery of supply shipments to the Fortress. Catheshal in her element, soothing fears and washing doubt away with smiles and assurances. With Harkon giving the hard line of law for protectorate and protected guarantees. The next two farms unfortunately proved a bust with all evidence of having been abandoned, however the buildings being intact, it was noted, made resettlement an attractive option.

The third farm was also looking to be in a similar state when the group was ambushed while exploring the barn.The mighty Finbar Garess, raised by dwarves, identified the attackers to be Duergar. The darkened and twisted kin of the Dwarves.

A short battle commenced where the lovely Catheshal was struck down by the Captain of these vile beings. Finbar (previously enlarged) bravely, smote deeply into the Captain causing him to flee to a higher level. Finbar first ensured that the good Lady was in no immediate danger before giving persute, issuing oaths of vengeance for the fair maiden. Stating that quicksand nor poor weather would stop his vengeance. He would track him valiantly for a thousand years if need be! Upon reaching the top floor he found it deserted, with a rope hanging from a hook lodged deep in the window sill. Determined to catch this brigand he surveyed his surroundings carefully, sure his prey was near. Sure enough, he felt a rush of air go past him and out the window, giving a mighty swing of his Great Blade but alas catching nothing but air.

A lesser man may have looked out the window and concluded the a 50ft drop was too far a fall. Was he a lesser man? NAY said he as he lept from the window, NAY I am a man raised by dwarves and no bout of newtonian law may hold me smitten with fear! Dropping down in persute of the dastardly villain. As over a ton of Finbar hit the ground the most peculiar sensations ran though his feet. The squeal of a piglet, the feel of stomping on overripe tomatoes and a softer landing than expected was his greeting at the bottom. He looked down in bewilderment, to behold what looked like an explosion of red paint. Dawning hit as he realised that this, was his nemesis, he felt a slight twinge of sadness as he realised his epic persute was never to be.

One scout was still alive and was later to be interrogated by Catheshal in the most brutal ways known to mankind. In searching the area a child was found, who was discovered to be an escaped captive of a Duergar base further to the east. Wisely concluding that a battle was no place for a child, the party travels back to the Fortress before continuing onwards. Finbar wearing a newly acquired chain shirt, thought fondly of the epic chase that could have been.

Merchant Lord

You get bad days in this life, no one can disagree. You broke a unique Caster teacup with your breakfast, fell down the stairs on your way to the morning room, much to the panic of the servants. You know, the just darn right awful starts. Then there are the legendary bad days. The ones that could possibly mean the end of the world bad. Six of nine seals were gone, he knew the other three were safe as long as his life held out and that part he had covered in abundance. But six, six was enough. Still, some small comfort could be taken that the gate wouldn’t reappear for a good number of years yet.

Damned Prophets and their imprecise, illogical nonsense. He’d need to have another look for that book. He’d asked Karmic to get another but they were proving illusive, not surprising considering only ten or so of them were ever made. The next option was finding the author. Zeldin, that’d be an even more hopeless cause how’d that saying go? Never search for a Prophet, because he already knows your coming… He pushed such foolish thoughts aside.

Being 646 years old wasn’t easy, he’d seen dwarven friends grow old and die in his time, he’d even outlived a good number of Elves too watching them wither and fade into their eternal rest. Most of his current servants had blood ties all the way back to his youth. The looks of reverence most had for him was unpleasant, the last thing he needed was the foolish children to look upon him as a god. Such things could prove fatal to a man in his delicate position within the world.

He sat now in what he could now safely say was the most uncomfortable chair he’d ever had the misfortune to place his behind in. But alas it would have been rude to refuse Lord Delgans offer to sit in this Golden monstrosity. He envied the seat his old companion, Lictor, Lord Menori Isenhower, had been offered. Most likely the trussed up turkey’s wife’s with it’s exemplary quality craftsmanship. Second rate gold and silver covered everything, funny how some men thought, this was power it said, here I am, fear my prowess.

They’d be awake by now, the one’s Old Master Nethon had flagged up on his last fateful journey. May he rest well, decrepit old bastard, yet another servant with his time utterly spent. Still 250 years was a long time to be traveling the world, under a contract to never rest, never falter. The old boy had been exausted these last hundred years, wanting nothing more than to enter the eternal rest. Yes he’d done well.

He felt a touch on his shoulder, Isenhower towering above him,
“They’re on the move, so please try to stay with us.” he said with a slight, mocking, smile. Blasted man had ridiculously good senses, they’d literally only just begun to move toward them. Feeling there presences like drops of starlight, cold and harsh, five little pinpricks of light in the darkness.

As they entered the large gaudy greeting room he spressed a groan. Their clothes, not an ounce of refinement about them. As grotesque and vile as the abode itself glittering and stating his lack of Noble graces. Being a noble made the transgression worse, they were ment to be the warriors, fearless and proud. He doubted if the man had ever held a knife, let alone a sword. He’d need to have words with the little man.

Raising this little party hadn’t been cheap and many favours had been called in to keep it quiet. Even more to acquire a suitable testing ground. How could these possibly be the ones of prophecy, however the agents must believe it to be so, or his old friend Gavi Nethon would still be wearily travelling the world now.

A few months would see them suitably tested and give him time to secure a more permanent solution for the western province.
Despite how weak they were, it surprised him to see touches of Divinity within several of the party and something darker as well, that would bear watching.


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