Session 8

But the gods fell silent, no devils, no envoys of divinity, nothing. The deafening silence persisted till the sun crested the horizon; strangely it seemed to shine brighter through the bandages that hid my eyes that morning, but this minor oddity was nothing. The road was long to the nearest town of Triboaa but uneventful. On our arrival by foot we met a farm hand, I asked him how many horses were for sale, he promptly told me there were some for sale in a building in town. Taking his word for it I walked into the building which he pointed out, and asked if any horses were for sale to the man behind the counter. He said what kind; soup or meat. These people clearly thought I was of a less civilized kind or style of goblin so to clear up the miscommunication I pointed out I was civilized. Quite literally I pointed to myself and said civilized. This usually works as most people with a poor impression of goblins either re-adjust and ask what it is that I was looking for. I would imagine a goblin saying a long word like civilized catches them off guard. This has been my experience so far. I don't know if it works universally. But as it turns out it was me and the farm hand with a miss understanding this town's export good of choice was horse products which meant any horse products. So after a long trek with no warm food I asked for some horse soup so as not to offend the sensibilities and culture of these people. I had never tried horse before and the barkeep said the hoof is the best part. It was ok… rather bland in taste but overall alright. After finishing the warm meal I went back to clear up the misunderstanding with the farm hand who turned out to be a veteran and asked if there were any other draft horses for sale. And he pointed out another stable on the other side of town. Wendigos killed most of the horses there so we ended up with a warhorse, and 2 draft horses as we rode to the next village. The village of Yartar was where we stayed for the remainder of the day and spent our night. The night came and passed and the morning brought memories of home Herbata tea and the unpleasantness of cold blood murder. A table to the head crushing a woman's face shows how quickly life ends on one bad day… The woman was beyond saving I knew it the moment I saw her face, part of me thought to rise her as an undead to try to save the situation but I would rather not meet the fate of a revealed necromancer in this small town, it wouldn't be the fate of the hang mans knot or the guillotine for me, just a mob of guards and slashing of many swords. A fate I thought not to go down the path of. So I used the other method, one of fear. Many such death knights use fear as a tool to dominate the battlefield in times of war, but there were mentions of tyrants using similar magic to rule and sway people to their will. These magics I used to distract the guards while the murderer, the half dwarf, got away. It took many spells cast and words spoken but to outsiders the guards were merely afraid of my appearance so much so they neglected their mission. I wonder what they saw when they looked at me, one said “I[you] would be the death of us all”. I never have had the spell cast on myself before, what primal fear does it display to the recipient… It seems I don't need the spell cast on myself to see things that haunt my mind. I guess that makes the guards the lucky ones. As a reward for saving Frung something woods life from the death sentence I got a slap to my head… All of this caused by him drunkenly agreeing to spend his fortune on some noble’s debt ,yet more proof temperance is virtue. But as it seems the dwarf would be so devoted to his wealth that he would get the attention of a devil. Which after little deliberations he signed his soul away to keep his wealth, greed beyond measure. Devils usually are not to be trusted and their contracts are often bad with many loopholes and clever tricks to get their way without paying for it. I imagine the contract signed by the dwarf had many in it. A shame I would have asked a question or gone for more than just coin… But it seems even the nine hells don't wish for my questions to be answered or perhaps they don't know the answers either. The road to Silverymoon was long but had a surprise of its own waiting. Assassins killed by a wendigo then killed by us the fight was won by the quick and adept fighting of the dwarf on horse back. The assassins however were a mystery, their robes were purplish red in color belonging to no guild I knew of at first glance. However, now I had an opportunity. Human heads or rather the skulls inside them are useful in a wide manner of spells and well it seems one has fallen right on my lap. The owner wouldn't miss it after all… My knife work was a little shoddy but the head came off and the robes I took as well. Damit now that I think about it I left the hands… What a waste. The second assassin's body was nowhere to be found after the fight with the wendigo. I imagine a scavenger animal of some sort took it while we were fighting. Yet another shame… The title of assassin may be hasty but what else would I call the interlopers skulking around at night near our camp.