1 Chillwind 508

The party leaves the city of Aldasar behind through the south gate and heads down the road toward Kalimsport, the “hub of the world.” The day is windy and, typical of the month, a bit chill. Alasir has the troops in formation around the wagon and Rilka and Mõrvar ride at the head of the procession.

People come into and out of the city along their path and largely have to go around their entourage as they take up most of the available space on the road. Toliver Yew doesn’t seem to mind. He’s beaming ear to ear as the procession makes its way through the city and down the road and only lets go of his grin when the people start to dwindle and the sun starts to go down.

The party makes a camp on the roadside, with Mahgnus’ efficient guidance, and watches are established by Alasir and Alfhild.

The night passes without incident.

3 Chillwind 508

The past day and night have passed much like the first, though Toliver’s mood is not as bright without the light of public attention to illuminate it. This day is particularly quiet, with little to no traffic on the road. However, one person of interest catches the party’s eye…

Meeting the entourage on the road from the opposite direction is a man on a heavy horse with chain barding. He bears a lance in the crook of one arm and a banner bearing two symbols in the other: a white star and a brass dragon. A heavy steel shield is slung on the side of the horse along with his saddle bags. He wears banded mail on his body and a scimitar at his side. His suit of armor includes a conical helm and a metal veil that is currently hanging off of his face. That face bears a neat beard and Southron features.

Mõrvar knows that the symbol of the brass dragon represents Azumazran, a good Southron deity. He also knows that based on the style of the man’s armor, and the metal veil, that he is probably Acheran. Acherans wear veils when they go into battle to symbolically blind themselves to the violence that they are about to do.

Surm knows that the symbol of the star indicates that he is most likely a cavalier/knight of the Order of the Star, an order whose members devote themselves to various religions.

The man pulls his horse over to the side of the road to allow your troupe to pass. As the entourage pulls up beside him, he calls out in Tradespeak, “May the Light of Wisdom shine upon you!”

Rilka nods at him as they pass and replies in turn, “And may your heart be filled with Courage.”

Mõrvar simply nods his head but keeps an alert presence as they pass.

As the troupe passes, he, too, watches warily as it goes by. Once he has room to traverse again, the knight returns to the road and starts continuing on his way.

5 Chillwind 508

In the middle of an early morning thunderstorm, you arrive at the gates of the city of Pylar-Holton. Pylar-Holton straddles the borders of Leilior and Ornis, with the town of Pylar on the Leilioran side and the town of Holton on the Ornish side.

Toliver Yew informs Surm that he has some business he’d like to attend to in the city.

Mõrvar and Surm discuss the possibility of moving around Pylar-Hollton, but as it fords a river, that makes things tricky—especially with a wagon. There will be gate fees at both Pylar and Hollton. Surm asks if Master Yew will be paying the gate fees for the escort and Yew responds, “We didn’t negotiate my paying of your travel expenses when we discussed our terms."

“Very well, Captain Rilka is not one to quibble over a few coppers," Surm says.

The gate guards inform them of the gate fees and shrugs apologetically. “Everything is high these days. Even taxes. Times are tough these days in the city.”

Once the gate fees are paid, the entourage makes it way into the town of Pylar. It’s a nice town, settled on the River Ornis. They see the pennants of the city depicting a white stag, rampant, on a green field, snapping in the storm winds. It’s raining pretty hard as the storm blows through.

Master Yew directs the procession toward a nice section of town, near the temple district. Once there, he asks for a halt in front of a particularly fine home with a circular drive. Here he disembarks from his wagon and tells them that he is heading inside. He should only be a short time and that the procession should wait. Thunder rolls and the rain falls down in a sheets.

Mõrvar tells Surm, "We are his escort, perhaps you and I should accompany him to this home. Never know were another impression or contact could be made.”

Surm calls out to Master Yew, “Master Yew, do you need escort inside?”

“I don’t anticipate any troubles, but it would be a nice front. Sure, maybe a small show of force would be appropriate,” Yew says.

Mõrvar dismounts as if there really is no question, and positions himself to escort Master Yew as if Mõrvar was his personal bodyguard. Surm dismounts to go, but looks to Rilka to see if she is coming. At Master Yew’s words, Rilka dismounts as well, moving to walk step-in-step with Surm.

Mõrvar, Surm, and Rilka all fall into step to escort Master Yew into the house. The four of them approach the house’s front door at the portico and Master Yew raps on the door. It is answered by a young woman in a maid’s outfit. Master Yew announces himself as “Master Toliver Yew and escort.”

The young woman curtsies and invites them all inside. They are directed to a small parlor off the main entrance where a sideboard with a decanter of brandy sits as well as a small tray of cheese and bread. Yew helps himself to the food and drink and takes a seat.

Soon after that, a tall thin man comes into room dressed in fine clothes. He has a large mole on the end of his nose. “Toliver, you’re soaked to the skin!” the man says, shaking hands with the Ornish merchant. “Have some more brandy to warm you up!” The man pours himself a glass and sits down across from Yew.

“Connall, it’s raining outside, of course I’m soaked,” Yew says with some gravity, but with a smile. He sips his drink. “This brandy is excellent by the way.”

And the two gentlemen begin a conversation as old friends, completely ignoring the three escorts in the room.

As the two catch up and reminisce, Yew manages to secure an exclusive contract to sell Connall’s silks at market in Aldasar. Finally, the two say their goodbyes and Yew, all smiles, heads back out to the horses.

By this time, the rain has let up and the sun is poking out from behind the clouds. It’s chilly, though, especially for those still wet from the rain.

The procession now heads to the Great Bridge and crosses the River Ornis into Hollton.

The gate into Hollton charges a tax of 3 copper per person, 8 copper per livestock. As they pass through, they are welcomed into Ornis. Master Yew has no business to conduct in Hollton, so they are free to pass through and continue on their way for the rest of the day.

7 Chillwind 508

It’s a windy day as they wend their way down the road and see, perched up on a nearby hill, shining in the noontime sun, [Tower Iosabail], one of the fabled Towers of Wizardry located throughout the continent, where wizards and sorcerers gather to ply their craft and learn new spells.

9 Chillwind 508

This morning on the road, they arrive at the gates of Glofthall. The pennants bearing the green field and golden boar’s head snap in the crisp breeze. The guards announce the gate fees of 2 copper per person and 3 copper for the livestock.

Surm manages to convince the guards that the wolf will be on its best behavior. It is treated as livestock.

Glofthall is a large town, pleasant enough, but they see a lot of its citizens eyeballing them as the procession makes its way through town—not in an unpleasant way, but in a gossipy way. Signs indicate that there is a pass that leads west through the nearby Slayt Mountains that leads to the town of Wycliff in Eacenia. Also, apparently the town is ruled by a Baroness whose hold is in the center of town on Baron’s Hill.

They pass through the town and arrive on the other side without a hitch and continue down the road.

10 Chillwind 508

It’s a moderate day, weather-wise, when they arrive at the gates of Laketon around noon. Laketon is just off of [[King’s Lake]], the second largest freshwater lake in the known world. The road passes through the town and they are asked to pay the tax (2 copper per person, 3 copper per livestock). Once again, Surm convinces the guards that the wolf is not a safety issue. The procession makes its way into Laketon, with the guards assured that the wolf will be well-handled. As they make their way through the winding streets, they can see that Laketon is a prosperous town and proud of its proximity to a natural attraction.

14 Chillwind 508

The morning is windy and a bit warmer than usual as they approach the great port city of Kalimsport. There is a long line of people waiting to get into the city. Laborers, merchants, entertainers, courtiers—people of every type vying to pass through the gates. To the west is the Sea of Jirra; its salty air is carried on the wind.

Eventually, the procession makes its way to the head of the line and to the North Gate. There you are met by City Watch soldiers in Kalimsport livery: A white field with a blue dolphin emblazoned on the front. While some of the Watch deal with Toliver Yew and his declarations concerning imports for sale, another address the party and their gate taxes. “5 copper per person, 1 silver piece each for your livestock. And 1 silver for the wolf as well,” a guard says, eyeing Ghost warily.

After paying their gate fees, the party finds itself in the city of Kalimsport. Kalimsport is a city like no other. It’s huge, its crowded, it’s bustling with life—and it’s a day before market faire—so crank it up a notch or three and you get the idea.

Traffic is thick in the streets with other wagons of merchants trying to get to the market district to set up for the faire. Visitors have come from miles around to see the faire and all the entertainments it provides. Speaking of entertainments, street performers are on every corner, juggling, singing, playing, trying to pry coppers from passersby. The noise is deafening and the stench is blinding. It takes forever to make their way through the streets as Master Yew’s wagon is slow on the best of days and glacial in this situation.

Alasir does a good job of ensuring the soldiery keep close to the wagon and keeps an eye out for any ne’er-do-wells that may have an eye on the merchant’s few goods he has left.

Eventually, the entourage makes its way to the city’s Southern Market District. Once there, Master Yew brings his wagon to a stop at a modest home with a small fountain out in front of it. As he disembarks from the wagon, he calls Surm over to him. “I suppose we need to settle up. That was 19 silver per day, right? Follow me.” And he starts heading toward the house with a large key ring in his hand.

Mõrvar dismounts and follows, checking his belongings to see if anything is missing. Now that he’s able to look, It does appear that in the crowded press of people on the way here that his sack with his soldier’s clothes got torn away from his gear somehow. He announces this fact to the group.

“Do you know where you last left it? I don’t know if I can track with all these people,” Savaric says.

“I’m sure it was ripped off in the crowd. Who ever made off with it is lucky I didn’t see them, or I would have detached another head from it’s shoulders,” Mõrvar says.

Mõrvar and Surm follow Master Yew to the house while the others wait behind. He takes his key and unlocks the large lock on the front door and lets them inside. He bids them to wait a moment while he lights the lamps, as there isn’t much light. He does so and then leads them into a sitting room.

The sitting room is simply furnished—it is nice, but not extravagant. He once again asks them to wait while he fetches their pay. He then brings them back a pouch full of silver coins. “Nineteen silver per day for thirteen days. Our bargain is complete,” he says, smiling. “My trip to Aldasar has been a very profitable enterprise indeed. Should I travel again, may I call upon you?”

Surm says, "Of course, and may we call on you as our guide to Kalimsport, we’ve never been this far South and it’s always good to have a local friend?”

“Certainly,” he says, “What sort of direction do you need?”

“Well, directions to the University of Kalimsport would be helpful. I am seeking a sage by the name of Mandreth Kerendal,” Surm says.

The merchant gives Surm the directions he seeks. The University is near the city center, sitting upon Sage Hill. The two men take their pay and exit the domicile toward their procession.