Entry 102

We arrived in Bryn Shander. The Shiny one went off to the library to see if he would work out how to use a gun thing he had picked up. He could remember where that was.

Galen and I went off to sell the feathers to the man who had previously requested them. We, knowing this would be a decent payout, would remember where, when and who for sure – anyone would. But for some reason, we can’t go straight to him because, despite the insane motivation, we don’t know where he is. REALLY!???

So, my next entry is going to be a rather boring one, for we will find the guy eventually because I will use the brute force technique and knock on every single door in Bryn Shander if I have to. And if that takes a year, so be it. I will slowly cross off every building on the map until we find him, and that will probably take longer than the time we were stuck in the castle.

So, after knocking on many doors, we eventually went into an apothecary’s establishment and asked the man behind the counter if he knew of anyone who made magical items from feathers and other parts of magical creatures. The man wasn’t happy that we were using his shop as tourist information, but hey, if he treated us nicely, we might return and buy things.

He did actually point us in the direction of the person we originally spoke to, so thankfully, all’s well that ends with getting slightly ripped off.

We found our man, and like all crappy business analysts, he gave us a crap user requirement. Out of the eighty feathers we obtained, he accepted ten of them, then dared to say ‘twelve hundred, as agreed’ for each feather. No, sonny Jim, that was not what was agreed; it was two grand. Not to worry, though, next time I find harpies, I may revisit the guy, cast charm person on him, bind him up and then we will take him with us as bait. That way, the Shiny One isn’t the one who may have to suffer having his face ripped off. Food for thought, going forward, if we get to the point where we don’t need to visit him for any earnings.

We also visited a jeweller who wanted to charge more for an item than I had, so unlike the Shiny One, who put down a deposit that only lasts a week, I declined the ‘kind offer’. The proprietor did say she would pay for fire giant bones – but once again, we have a crap user requirement here. Must they be perfect, or just jaw bones, a femur or something else? Who knows, maybe we might return to Mad Maud’s layer and pick up a ton of bones, then return?

We decided to get some sleep, but couldn’t find anywhere with rooms. Apparently, by saving the one fisherman, we stopped the illegal food shipments from Maud, which has resulted in riots, looting and general mayhem in Easthaven, and that, apparently, is our fault? There is no pleasing some people.

We had to sleep in the temple because all the guest houses were full of people from Easthaven, escaping the effects of our rescue. A situation that became worse when an army of Duergar raided Easthaven and continued their looting of Chardalyn, while also killing people, burning places to the ground, and causing a lot of mayhem. So, basically mimicking groups of young idiots on holiday.

We were rudely awakened early on with more reports of Duergar and also frost giant activities to the east of Bryn Shander. Seeing as we believed we had caused enough damage to Easthaven, we decided to see if we could cause mayhem for the frost giants instead. We went and found Pherios, who, apparently, had booked a nice room and had spent the night well, unlike the rest of us, who had to contend with sweaty feet and farts all night in a cold temple amongst the pews.

Pherios organised dog sledges for us, and we travelled east. The trek in this awful tundra remained as bad as ever, cold and crappy, snowing and crappy, windy and crappy and, the best part, usually all three at the same time. When the delightful conditions reached a point where the only thing happening was that anyone not called Gwindor was turning into a block of ice, we decided to stop and set up camp.

We set up camp and, as ever, Galen said: “There’s something out there.” Of course, there was, getting a decent night’s sleep in Icewind Dale always involves having to suffer idiots like Rinaldo, adverse weather conditions or monsters. If you are lucky, it is all of them, which seems to be a theme here.

On closer inspection, Galen confirmed that a crag cat was stalking us. Where there is one, there are more, and, which is typical, these damned things were spell-resistant. Thankfully, we had done our homework since encountering them before, so area of effect or direct spells that hit or miss. Anything else, and the cat will probably keep coming.

I cast light on a rock to illuminate the area Galen was pointing to, but the combination of thick mittens, an inability to throw, and sliding on the ice resulted in the rock landing nowhere near. Serendipity was in play, though, as the light from the rock illuminated another cat, readying itself to pounce.

Gwindor cast a spell at the first cat. I think he hit it, but I couldn’t tell. Galen also attacked the first cat and hit it, but it kept coming. In seconds, it was on Gwindor. I do admire Gwindor being the first line of defence, it shows a certain tenacity, especially if you are a character of the squishy kind. The cat was on him, with savage claws and a face full of knives. If it could just bowl him over, it and its friends would have a nice meal for the evening. Thankfully, Gwindor stayed erect under the weight of pussy.

To give them an advantage, I stepped up and threw Guiding Bolt, A delightfully nasty spell used by all who follow the light. All I had to do was hit it. Sadly, I slipped on the ice and threw it a long way over the head of the second cat instead. This was lucky as I could have hit one of the group. That would be bad.

Gwindor hit the cat once more, and Galen finished it off before it could do more damage. This was indeed fortunate, as the third cat joined the fray (damn it!).

Area of effect, it had to be, so I unloaded a fireball. Old faithful is always a damage dealer (except against fire giants and red dragons), so in it went, frying both cats nicely but not killing them. Galen and Gwindor killed the additional cat and further wounded the third, prompting its hasty retreat. It wasn’t quick enough, though, and this time I caught it with Guiding Bolt, roasting its annoying arse.

Finally happy that we were not going to be disturbed, we finally rested for the night.

The next morning, our trek, led by Pherios, turned into guesswork. We really had no idea where we were going and followed a sort of route that a giant riding a mammoth had left. We avoided him: a big guy with an axe, with access to a ready-made tank, made us think that on this occasion, discretion was the better part of valour.

Eventually, we arrived at a hill with some sort of ring of thrones at the top. Two ice sculptures were looking on at the ring of thrones. We circled the thrones for a while – carefully. After a period of inactivity, and discovering the whole area was magical, we decided to enter the centre of the circle.

This activity prompted the appearance of ghost frost giants, who had probably been sitting there, talking about the good old days before everything sucked, for quite a while. Eventually, they noticed us, and I can’t remember whether we agreed to it or the test was thrust upon us, but we ended up facing a Cold Spirit Giant.

This thing was, well, giant-sized. It had a see-through appearance and a big axe. You know, the kind that could fell an entire wood with, in one swing. I had the drop on it, so I opened up with Guiding Bolt, a hit with this meant an almost certain hit with the next attack, and it was a perfect strike for maximum energy. The glowing effect now in place meant we would have an easier time, for the next few seconds at least. I sent in a spiritual weapon; it might be allergic to force energy. The hit was strong and true, maximum damage! My smugness was short-lived, as the huge ghostly effigy turned, looked at me and fried me with some crazy death ray, which encased me in some heat crap and paralysed my movements. So, that was me out of the fight.

I couldn’t see much, but I did see the ghostly giant take a swing at Pherios. Being a dwarf, Pherios looked much smaller against this Jotun image. The giant swung at Pherios in a manner resembling golf. Perhaps he was going to say “Four!” if he had a good connection, as Pherios would certainly have become airborne golf ball style.

I didn’t see much more after that. Thankfully, I felt some healing going on, and when I came out of the paralysis, the fight was all but over. I think our pirouetting assassin managed to put the ghost down, and the fight was over. PHEW!!!!!!!!!

Apparently, this place is called Jarlmoot, and apart from ghosts talking to each other as if it were a Sunday session at the seaside, some trials take place there. This is where I decided that we had collectively been eating stupid pills, or maybe Rinaldo had been feeding them to us during the time he was with us. The head honcho ghost offered us the next trial, a “Trial of Will.”

Clearly, we all failed the wisdom check on this one as we merely said: “yeah, why not…”

To be continued.