The Prairie Village Campaign: 4e

Episode 1-2: A Few Errands In Town
Shopping in the rain...

Nuriel’s Journal, 2nd Entry: “But I digress…”

Praise Bahamut! One of the interns was kind enough to give me some parchment from Douven Stahl’s supply closets. It seems that Stahl has purchased far more paper than he and all of his interns could possibly use in five years. The scribe offered me twenty pages of parchment, insisting that the historian was just going to purchase more. I only had need for these two sheets, and so that was all I afforded to take. But I digress…back to the fascinating events of the evening.

While enjoying an evening supper (ironically, noble Cordivae continued to have breakfast) Dauven Stahl told us, in great detail, of the history of the Barony of Harkenwold. It seems that his studies have uncovered some documents involving some kind of fortress (called a Toll Fort) near the White River. I’ve never seen a white river before. I’ll bet it’s fascinating!

In any case, he told us of an old legend, a mythological “bandit king;” a fictionalized villain whose name parents would invoke to terrorize their children into staying out of trouble, doing their chores, eating their vegetables, or whatever other task that their whims required at the moment. I would point out that at times, being spontaneously spawned has distinct advantages, in that I was able to completely avoid this confusing and ridiculous behavioral manipulation. Furthermore, I have to wonder why more children have not challenged this so-called king to actually follow through on their parents’ threats. Given the choice between (for example) cleaning the mud out of my chainmail and doing battle with a bandit king, I believe I’d prefer fisticuffs. I digress again. Apologies…

It seems that this local fearmonger was actually based upon a real historical figure, at least according to the knowledgeable and verbose Dauven Stahl. He has uncovered some nugget that hints this “bandit king” was in fact some kind of nobleman, rumored to have built a vast amount of wealth and prosperity to the people under his charge. To my thinking, any man, regardless of station or birth, who leads people into wealth and prosperity certainly deserves a better title than “the Bandit King.” I would have expected he be called “the prosperity man,” or “lord of the coins“ or perhaps even “baron of entrepreneurs.” Alas, I have digressed again.

For whatever reason, this man’s fortune turned upside-down quickly, as his name was stricken from the history books and all that remains is the aforementioned (and somewhat humiliating) legend. It seems that Dauven Stahl believes the main base of this “Bandit King” may have in fact been the remains of an old Fortress near the present day town of Harken. Men within this fortress once stretched a chain across the river and charged river traffic a toll to proceed. Today, it lies in ruin. Dauven Stahl’s tale, a digression in my view, eventually reached this very important climactic point: Keller, the esteemed elder of the village of Harken, has called Dauven Stahl for help in dealing with present day Bandits, who seem to be operating out of this very same ruined fort. Dauven has requested that we uncover and return anything of historical significance; Keller, justifiably, is seeking aid for the people under his charge. Needless to say, such a request stirred deep emotions within me, and I feel strongly compelled to travel to the aid of these people. However, before we leave, Dauven Stahl requested some minor tasks from each of us.

Galanthal and Gloria were to travel to the local provisioners and purchase a number of items. Kepp was to deliver a letter to Amros Camroth, the wealthiest and meanest spirited man in town.
Galanthal was to visit Grundelmar, the high priest of Pelor.
I was to visit Nimozarin the Green at the Septarch’s tower. Before that, I decided to accompany Cordivae to make sure he didn’t hurt anyone or himself while I was at it.

And so, the following day, our fellowship split up to handle our various tasks. From what I can tell, the visit to the provisioners went basically according to plan: Gloria returned to Stahl’s estate with some extra rope and even more parchment.
Galanthal visited Grundelmar and arranged for several wayward children to enjoy a banquet of food at a local farmer’s home (what a benevolent soul he is!). Kepp apparently did deliver the letter after two attempts (he told me in passing of his experiences with the guards at the Camroth estate. Evidently the hired help is as rude as Camroth himself). I deposited Cordivae at another local brewpub, the Blue Moon Tavern. It was there that we met Kemara Brownbottle, yet another Halfling (they are all over Fallcrest). This fascinating individual actually crafts all different kinds of breakfasts for all different types of palates.

I left Cordivae to his sampling and visited the Septarch’s tower where I met Tobolar Quickfoot, still another Halfling who introduced himself as the Mage of the Septarch’s tower. Evidently, this esteemed position entails lofty duties such as straightening paperwork, dusting ancient shelves and tomes, and tending to the garden. Tobolar was somewhat upset that I had come to see the Septarch and not him, despite that I don’t know the first thing about dusting or gardening.

The Septarch was most fascinated with my personal history, brief as it was, and in particular with some of my equipment and possessions. He was intrigued with how battleworn some of my items were. I had noticed some wear and tear, but really hadn’t considered it abnormal; after all, I had fallen a fair distance. Nimozarin read much more deeply into this, and felt that my possessions told a deeper story. I am to report back to him from time to time to discuss various developments with him.

During my meeting with the Septarch, Galanthal stopped by, either to learn the secrets of Tobolar’s “barking spider” spell, or to accompany me with my visit. Perhaps both…What a friend! Galanthal also revealed to me a very important fact; “Breakfast” is not the curious healing potion that Cordivae contends it to be, but rather, it is a hearty meal in the morning which provides the body with energy it needs to work throughout the day. One day, I will have to point this mistake out to Cordivae. Surely it’s the translation from Dwarven that caused this simple rhetorical misunderstanding.

So much happened on this exciting day, I probably forgot important details. I could barely stand to rest, so I cleaned my tabard, got the last of yesterday’s mud out of my chainmail, and rested for tomorrow morning, when we would leave Fallcrest for the town of Harken. Be forewarned, evildoers of Harken! Justice is leaving Fallcrest and coming your direction, starting tomorrow!

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Episode 1-1: Falling in With Strangers
If Nuriel had been more than one day old, this would not have qualified as his best.

Entry 1 of Nuriel’s Journal:

Praise Bahamut! It all started with so much promise.

I felt the breeze in my hair, the wind in my face, the feeling of floating on air. It lasted for at least two precious seconds, and I savored them, being my first full two seconds of life. An eternity! Then suddenly, it was as if I had hit a wall of mud, which of course was appropriate, since I had fallen into a pile of mud. I’ve noticed lots of metaphors that work this way.

No longer was wind in my face and hair. No, instead it was a highly moistened mass of dirt (by which combination of liquids I do not know, and would prefer not to surmise). I was suddenly enveloped in a suffocatingly heavy dredge that coated my face, hair, and (I later found) had worked its way into every single link of my chainmail. My tabard was stained brown and yellow.

Wet, cold, and in more than a small amount of pain, I found myself next to another sort, much shorter than myself, covered in this same muck. I immediately assumed that he, too, had just landed. Apparently his fall was not as tall as mine, as he was basically unhurt except for a splitting headache. He offered me a healing potion, called “breakfast"—-a somewhat bitter but not entirely unenjoyable liquid that is probably derived from some kind of fermented wheat. What luck! I thought. I had landed next to a healer! I later discovered that this dwarf, named Cordivae, was not in fact a healer, and as a matter of course was wont to enjoy “breakfast” throughout most of his waking hours. Still, I can never forget his initial kindness to my travails, and by Bahamut’s scales, forever shall he be an ally. In some way, I can understand his disdain of taller folk. It’s surely not his fault that his ancestors stunted their own growth by spending so much time underground.

Another person I met today was named Kep. If Cordivae could have a keeper, it is this Halfling. He always seems to make sure that Cordivae punches the right person, or at the very least, passes out at the least used table. Kep checked on me periodically while I was cleaning the mud out of my armor. Kep strikes me as the type who knows more than he says, or at least, says more than he thinks. Clearly, a valuable ally. Another new meeting is Galanthal, an odd sort of nature worshiper who has spent most of his life in this place called Fallcrest. He seems to know everybody, and has an odd intuition about many folk whom I have not yet met. I don’t know his capabilities yet, but he does not strike me as dishonorable.

I also met a woman named Gloriawho acts as a paige to Douven Stahl. I think she is a student, or maybe some kind of intern, to Stahl’s school of study. She barely speaks to me, and I suspect that is because she had some kind of higher purpose in the span of her study. I should pay attention to this Eladrin in case she becomes important in the future.

Which brings me to Douven Stahl; now this is a man who knows how to talk. And at great length! Just before dinner, he began to explain why I was here. Actually, he explained why many of us were here…but more on that later, as I am running out of parchment. Tomorrow I shall purchase more and continue writing.

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