The Long Road Ahead: Part III

So. Much. Rain.
I am accustomed to gloom. Winter in Luskan, which was about half of the year, was gloom personified.
Gloomy days that are perpetually overcast. Frozen winds coming down from Icewindale constantly battering at the walls of Luskan, seeping into the city and biting at your back as you walk along the streets. While frozen wind from the north bite your back, an additional bone chilling ache that the sea air imposed on the core of your being made breathing heavy and thick, almost like you swallowed your air instead of simply breathing it.
Gloomy nights where heavy fog obscured everything so fully even the raucous Luskan nightlife was tamed to a dull din. On nights when storms blew in, the snow and ice would bury the sights and sounds altogether. I actually came to enjoy those nights on account of the simple peace they brought. A blessed silence where the only sound you heard was that of the wind and the occasional creaking of ice as it shifted, cracked, or shattered.
I am finding that the upside to the frozen gloom of a city is that there is little worry of muck and mud. We have been slogging through mud for days now. I’ve lost track of how many. The wagons get stuck, our boots get stuck, horse hooves slurp and stutter, cooking fires are nearly impossible to keep going, and due to all of the aforementioned misery, everyone is on edge. I believe this last bit may be the hardest for me. I’m not overfond of the mess so much mud and muck creates, but the whining is the worst. So much whining about the rain.
 
It was during this rain drenched slog that we reached a village called Aenor’s Rest and all of the wagons were unhitched. Enam indicated he intends for us to stay here until the weather has passed. So be it. I am certain my horse, well to be fair all of the horses, need an extended break from traversing such difficult roads.
 
Of course, it could not be a fully restful respite. As various members of the caravan began to attempt to gain entry to the Inn, most were turned away. I overhead someone tell both Conrad and Nuri the Inn was full, and then shut the door in their faces. While I expected to be sleeping outdoors with the wagon I was hired to protect, I decided to do a bit of investigating. An inn that was not allowing travelers to even enter for a drink is a decidedly unnatural thing. Additionally, now that we are nearing Waterdeep I was hoping there might be additional information about strange travelers heading north that may have passed through ahead of us. I still ponder how so much of the Cult’s treasure is being ported so very far without one of their high-ranking members at least close at hand. At this point I am beginning to think they must be behind us instead of ahead. In any event, I managed to garner a bit of rapport with the guard in the guard tower. A pleasantly friendly fellow, even after he took note of my shadowy heritage.
He had not noticed anything or anyone unusual passing through before us unfortunately. He did tell me what little he knew of the four “nobles” that had effectively purchased all empty rooms in the Inn and were even denying entry to those seeking nothing more than a drink. He also noted a rather strange older couple that had arrived a few days before, and gave their names.
 
Meeting back up with my compatriots I was astonished to learn this older couple was Nuri’s grandparents! What in the gods names were they doing this far north? The guard had simply said they were talking to lots of folk and money had changed hands. Whilst a substantial tale could be spun describing what happened next, I shall try to keep it brief. In the end it turned out that the older couple were, in fact, Dopplegangers posing as Nuri’s grandparents. It was their atrocious luck that we happened to be at the Inn at the same time they were. No doubt fearing their secret would be exposed they tried to take off with Nuri. Rhumor’s keen eyes saw them sneaking off to the woods and alerted the rest of us. While perhaps this was not our most shining example of fighting, we did defeat the imposters. Interrogation of the one kept alive revealed no information about Nuri’s kin, and so it died too. Given the look on its face I would guess Nuri made it quite a painful death.
While I still do not understand the attachment so many persons along the Sword Coast develop for their progenitors, and others they call family, I do hope for her sake that the old couple is hale and well. I believe she was able to convince Azbara to send a raven to inquire about them in Bergost – a most impressive feat in and of itself given the wizard’s disposition since his arrival.
 
The next day another merchant arrived in town. I found out he dealt mainly in potions but did claim to have an enchanted item or two. I’ve heard tale of items, such as a Pearl of Power, that allow spellcasters to cast a little more often than they normally have the aptitude for, and I was really hoping this merchant might have such an item. I also recall rumors that abounded in Bregan D’aerthe claiming the lieutenants all possessed rings that stored spells for later use. I might dismiss such tales altogether were it not for the fact that the mercenaries were famous for making liberal use of magical items. As the dangers we face increase, I have become more and more aware of my limitations in spell casting.
Alas, the merchant did not have anything of interest to me, but in talking to him and inspecting the enchanted amulet he was trying to sell I realized Conrad would likely be very interested in speaking to him. The necklace did interest Conrad, as it seemed to give him a small boost to his druidic ability, but I believe of even greater importance was the fact that the man was able to translate a small portion of the abyssal book Conrad had been fruitlessly staring at for weeks now. It’s a shame the amulet did not increase one’s hardiness. I could have used something like that too. Oh well, Waterdeep is near, and perhaps I will be able to locate some additional items there.
 
That evening things became far stranger and more complicated. Jamna made an appearance for the first time since arrival in this village. She claimed the Cultists had discovered who we were and were trying to kill us (with bones in our stew… or something like that). Conrad cast multiple spells over our food, finding nothing. I am ever suspicious of that one, I don’t think she was telling the truth, and it was simply a ruse to further her aims, whatever they may be. In the short term she did ask us to help her uncover the contents of the wagons, despite my assurance that we already knew what was inside. Likely she was simply hoping we would provide distraction for her. Given her skill set, requesting our help was hardly necessary – so even that did not really provide ample motive in my opinion.
 
While I was not exactly expecting it, I was completely unsurprised to be roused the next morning to sounds of alarm when a cultist guard was found murdered just outside his wagon. No doubt Jamna was sneaking into or out of the wagon and got caught, much to the cultist’s poor luck. Of course she is nowhere to be found now. I haven’t the foggiest idea why, but one of the cultists decided it must be my fault. Investigation of the dead body showed a short sword had dealt the killing strike. Even with this evidence, and the entire rest of the caravan noting how often my compatriots and I had saved everyone’s skin, it was only through Azbara’s insistence of my innocence (Will wonders never cease?!?!), along with the rest of caravan insisting the wagon be searched for signs of robbery, that the cultists stopped their accusations… except for one. In one of life’s beautiful ironies, that dimwit is now dead, and I did not have to lift a finger.
 
Just as the accusations began to die down, Perytons attacked. Apparently they had been following the caravan for some time, waiting for the weather to clear up enough. With the entire caravan distracted by the murder, none of us saw it coming.
This aerial attack was a most fortuitous event for me, in two ways. Firstly, the first Peryton to attack slaughtered my vehement accuser. Secondly, it was in fighting these airborne foes, and observing the ways their bodies moved during the attacks as they dove in and swooped back up so very quickly and fluidly, that I was finally able to solve the martial riddle of how to balance the momentum of my blade to quicken my attacks. It took another evening or two of applying the movements to my blade, which is slimmer than the peryton’s legs and talons, but I’ve mastered it. I’m confident I should be able to get off two attacks before an opponent will have time for reprisal. Now, if I can only master how to maintain my defensive posture while wielding such a large weapon.
The brief battles we fought in this village also gave me cause to mediate on the collective memory of my shadow brethren and ponder new spells that might better serve us as we get closer and closer to our destination, wherever that might be. Hadar’s Arms are proving to be less and less effective of late, despite the fact that I can feel my power growing. I think, for the time being at least, I will focus more on spells that enhance my martial capabilities and provide additional protection. As I continue to enhance my martial training, I will need all the magical help I can get to survive close quarters combat.
 
As we draw nearer and nearer to Waterdeep I find myself thinking more and more about the hidden castle of the Cloud Giants. We are so close to the Sword Mountains, and I am torn. I know I cannot abandon this quest to quell this present darkness that threatens us all, but when might I find myself so close to this region again? Perhaps with luck the cultist’s will be stopping in Waterdeep, and other Harper Agents there can move on the cult. My stomach tightens both in excited anticipation and frustration as I consider how this opportunity may slip through my fingers.
 
It is a marvel that I am here at all… that we are here at all. It was after all less than a year ago that I sat on a wagon headed south with 3 strangers on the way to Greenest. I could never in my wildest imagination have thought that 2 of them would now be close traveling companions and allies in combat for more than a season. Also astonishing is what we have learned together, taught each other, and discovered in that short time. Conrad, the timid and somewhat naïve archeologist, has gained such confidence and begun to demonstrate real druidic authority. Our enigmatic wood elf companion, Rhumor, has displayed impossible skill and accuracy with his long bow – all while remaining virtually invisible to all, even us! Grok has gained unbelievable resilience in combat, almost single-handedly dispatching a half-dragon. I have lost track of how many times I was certain that one was going down and knocked unconscious, only for him to pop back up like a jack-in-the-box and even strike at his foe in doing so! Then there is Nuri. Or is it Kaida? I must inquire about this. Though I am not overconcerned, for she seems to be a most decent person (almost too decent), I am curious as to her motives for hiding her name. If she is the target of yet another dangerous entity, or group, we need to know so we can be prepared for whatever comes. Regardless, this gregarious and humble sorceress has displayed tremendous power through her magic. All of that power, yet she, out of all of us, is the most altruistic. I doubt I would have the information I now possess about these runes were it not for her aid. When I saw the doppelgangers running off with her limp form through the woods I could feel the burning anger deep within. If the general and ignorant populace of the Sword Coast is worth fighting for, how much more is the worth of one of its kindest citizens?
 
As long as our mutual journey lasts I shall continue to protect these compatriots and my wrath will be unleashed on the cult. I will sap them of their very life force and send them to be with their queen in her hellish prison. Let them worship her there.
 
Enam seems to think we are but a few days out from Waterdeep now, and that puts us right around six tendays on the road – a long road indeed.