Journal of W. E. Tupper, Day 38-45

Day 38
Milya gave me this journal on the condition that I don't fill it with a 'hokey' cover story. I even had a few codewords worked out, too. Guess this won't be much of a private journal then, might even turn out to be an official record of events. Hah! Well at any rate, let's start this at the beginning.

There is (or was) a herd of Order initiates that left town over a month ago. They were sent out to find a group of paladins that went missing. Both groups were last seen in the vicinity of Izmir. As of yesterday, my duty is to find the second group, deliver a sealed letter to them from the Order, and to join their ranks so as to prevent them from falling off the map themselves.

Should I be unable to track any of them down, I am to report back to Point of Origin immediately; whereas the Order will likely send out another gaggle of initiates after them, I will get a pat on the head, and this journal gets converted into a cookbook. However, should I succeed and aid them in their quest, I would be removed from probationary status and employed by the city as a full-pay investigator upon my return.

The job originally called for just a messenger, but Stuart managed to finagle my participation as a "tactical field advisor" as well as the post-mission promotion. So, I have contacted a traderunner and plan to leave for Izmir tomorrow on the next caravan out.

And I just noticed the mark for an arcane goods consortium on the inside cover. Good night, spellbook.


Day 39
Well now I hate sheep.

The caravan turned out to be the return trip for a group of farmers from Izmir who came to Point of Origin to trade. I was stuck between a loudmouth shepherd with a severe overestimation of the sociocultural value of his livestock and his luggage trunk of a son. This bastard would not stop yammering about all the uses for sheep skins, sheep eyes, sheep guts… I do not care how delicious "haggis" sounds, I'll be damned if I ever eat it now. Fortunately, I managed to trade seats with his wife after dinner. I'm sure all of this is absolutely scintillating to read about.


Day 40
Wheat farmers are more sociable than you would think, or at least the ones based out of Izmir. Before today, I did not know you could make alcohol from wheat. Apparently their trip was very successful, as they were passing around a jug of wheat-hooch and laughing. They let me take a sip now and then, and in return I told them the story about the dead druid and the squirrel. Good times were had by all.


Day 41
Everyone on the wagon has a headache and we're all out of liquor. Now I remember why I dislike drinking. But we made it to Izmir at last, and I checked into an inn called the River Dolphin. I'll make a circuit around town to the major gossip centers tomorrow, see if I can find out where they went. In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy the extravagant luxury of my own private bed.


Day 42
Success! Amongst tales of evil glowing trees, rampaging shrubberies, and invisible alley fights I managed to find a thread of truth; a story of an abandoned and dangerous mine, and the group of people that set out to it three days ago. It's foolhardy, it's needlessly heroic, it's got to be them.

Politely and diligently inebriating an elderly dwarf got me the location of this mine, despite his protests that I shouldn't go. Finished up the day with the purchase of a horse, since there are no caravans going there anytime soon. The plan is to leave tomorrow morning, arrive at the mine one and a half days from now, search for any indication of their presence, and to hoof it if there is evidence that they've been slaughtered.


Day 43
Sweet Saint Cuthbert in a big green grass-skirt, riding alone is dull. Nobody else on the trail, nothing but me, my horse, and nature; and as fascinating as nature is, it is a very poor conversationalist. So I invented a game around watching for brigands on the road.

The rules are thusly:
Five points if you spot a squirrel in a tree, two if it on the ground.
Ten points if you see a deer, six for a fawn, five for either if they are dead.
Fifteen points if you see another traveler, twenty if they talk to you.
Twenty points per head for horse thieves or other such highwaymen, twenty five if you slay or evade them.
Fifty points and game if you see a dragon or other large predator. No points earned if it eats you.

My tally for today is 23.


Day 44
This morning, I woke to the sounds of distant yelling. Nobody was around, as far I could tell. Are ghosts common in these lands? Whatever it was left me alone, which I guess is good.

I was lucky enough to cross paths with three of my quarry as they were heading back to town. I had been told there was a savage traveling with them, but he was certainly friendly enough. The one with the gunny sack full of rotten meat was less so, though. They pointed out the way to the mine and I met up with the rest of them.

Delivered the letter, sealed and intact, to a fellow named Arcadius. The letter requested their attention to the problem of dark and evil trees showing up closer and closer to Point of Origin (guess there was something to those tavern rumors after all) and that I was assigned to them as an Investigator (without mention of my probationary status). They put me to work right away, with a magical chest decoy and an iron maiden rigged for zappy. After frying myself on the traps one too many times, we set out back on the road to Izmir.


Day 45
Last night, second watch heard a cry of help. When they searched for the source, they found a dead horse full of arrows. Guess it's not ghosts out here, then. Tried to rest a bit during all of this, but Arcadius was adamant that I help keep vigil while the second watch were away, to the point of lifting me bodily off the ground and standing me up like a toy soldier. I made a mental note not to anger him, at least not while I am within arm's reach.

Conversation on the road yielded the fact that the bag of rotten meat I saw was actually their former leader Ryan. I got a cold and solid feeling in my gut that I will be downright pining for a sewer to scout out by the end of this.

At least we got back to Izmir without any problems.