The Journal of Drashak Khea Milari

 Warm and dry.  Those two words must be two of the most beautiful words in
any language. ( I know the elves would debate this, but that's the elves for
you.)  

     Before I go any further, let me introduce myself.  I am called Drashak,
of the Clan Milari, of the Mountain folk.  ( Most others call us Dwarves, but
in the human tongue, that can also be considered an insult directed at a
person who does not measure up to certain standards.  Therefore, if any human
wants to deal with us, Mountain folk is the term they use).

     Now that the two words than began this missive can apply to me, I can
find time to chronicle the history of our little group.  After all, who
better to set down in writing our thoughts, words and deeds than a Mage of
 Runes?

     It is the second day after our arrival in the city of Nvym-Dar.  I find
it hard to believe that almost three years has passed since we last set foot
to this city's streets, and had three more years passed before this day, I
would not have furrowed my brow over it.  This city is too big for my tastes,
to open and full of beings.  The more of our stay here that I can spend
hidden away in a small room carving runes to silver, or puzzling out some
obscure text, the happier I shall be.  And I must admit, the room in which I
find myself is very agreeable indeed.  The desk upon which I write, is an
antique from Bardek unless I miss my guess, and the rug is from far off
Thyatis.  Every morning they bring us our breakfast, and hot water for a bath
if we request it... and we always do.  At one gold shilling a day, it looks
as if I may be able to spend several months in this pleasant inn, known as
The Four Winds, carving runes in preparation for whatever endeavor we decide
to embark upon after we have over wintered here.  Now, I know that it is
against the laws of this land to cast magic within the city walls, and that
the carving of the runes, and their attendant rituals are considered magic;
but it is not like I am wont to throw balls of smoke and fire about, as does
Vasquez.

     I shall purchase a few books in languages I do not know, and tell the
staff here I am a scholar.  Then who shall wonder that I stay in my room all
day, scratching away at this fine desk?  the answer is, no one I hope.  For I
do need to make more runesticks ere we embark on any other journey, for the
last time I had time enough to do so was many months ago, and I am now down
to carrying but a dozen or so sticks, containing runes that are not often
used.  But enough of these musings on what may be, for this is to be a
chronicle of what was and is.

     Now, as to the first day of our stay here, that can be summed up in one
word.  Cleaning.   Upon disembarking from our crude raft, which had carried
us many miles down the river river ( I do know not know the humans name for
this river, but the Mountain folk, as well as the Halflings, have named it
Widowmaker) we were interviewed by the town Guards, most of whom are either
in the service of the Goddess Ishtar, or the God Tyr.  They tallied our
goods, confiscated those that were illegal within the city, and charged us
tax accordingly.  They were completely aghast when we told them that we did
not intend to sell the two handed sword we were carrying, but rather, give it
back to the Church of Ishtar. That sword alone, being as it is, silvered and
having a core of quicksilver, is worth 2000 pieces of gold.  I'll be just as
glad to be rid of it, it moves in the hand in a manner most unnatural,
shifting its weight as you raise or lower it.  A weapon should be solid and
true, not twisting and shifting in your hand like a serpent trying to escape.

       We are told that it is a holy sword, given to warriors who have
distinguished themselves in the service of Ishtar, although Shaliorian Shali
( called Shali by us) who is our party leader, has detected no aura of magic
about it.

     After the customs inspection, we acquired the services of a guide, and
immediately requested the location of the nearest bathhouse.  Our guide
showed us to Skywhite's House of Lavation, whereupon  we stowed our valuables
in sight, and burned our clothing in their trash heap.  After giving our
guide monies to purchase new clothing, we set about to scrubbing the dirt of
several years on the trail out of our skins.

     Mere words cannot express the bliss that comes from hot, perfumed water,
after having had only cold dunkings in raging rivers while fighting off
gnolls with crossbows, so I shall not even try.  Suffice to say that we spent
many hours in the tubs of Skywhites.

     After a time, our guide returned with dull but serviceable clothing, and
informed us she had secured lodgings for us at the Four Winds Inn, a place of
good repute and high quality.  After a quick visit to the Adventurer's Guild
to pay our back dues and stow our valuables in a more secure location, we
retired to the Four Winds, for a truly excellent supper and the first real
beds we have seen in months.  This Inn is used to dealing with persons of
distinction, for they even have a falconer and attendant mews, where
gentelmen may keep their falcons while they are in the city.  The falconer
was a bit surprised to see my golden eagle, but he dealt with him surley and
I feel as if he is in good hands.  Perhaps I shall have a few days in which
to cast with him in the upcomming weeks.  Shali's crow, Mischief was not
allowed in the falcon mews, and so must stay in her room on a perch.  Ha!  I
often wonder why she keeps that bird around, when all it does is pick at the
carrion we encounter on the trail and yell "Fresh fish!" at inoppertune
moments.  She should get herself a real bird, a falcon or hawk, as she is not
strong enough to cast an eagle.

     I must confess, that my sleep that first night in this inn was not all
it could have been.  For my mind kept going back to the last time we had
ensconced ourselves in an inn we though comfortable and of good repute, back
in the town of Derlen.  At that inn, no sooner had our heads hit pillow than
some nere-do-wells crept in via a secret door and clongged us over the head
with blackjacks, and all this after poisoning our drinks to make sure we were
asleep.  Thus began the whole sordid escapade at Derlen, from which we have
just extricated ourselves.  So, because the last time we were at a good inn,
were were kidnapped by cultists, and the last time we were in this city of
Nvym-Dar, we were shanghaied by slavers, the reader will perhaps not wonder
so much why my sleep that night was troubled, and my eye kept glancing toward
the door, checking to see if it was still locked.

     The next day, we discovered that Bob, the other woodsman besides myself
in our group, had taken Ill.  Merlaine, our Elven healer, determined that it
was not poison or any such like that was causing his illness.  Rather, it is
the Wasting Sickness, which is uncomfortable, incurable, but hardly ever
fatal.  Not a one of us however, shall forget that it was the wasting
sickness that took William, our newly fledged warrior of Tyr from us.  He had
only just joined our group when it came upon him, and he never recovered.  I
guess Tyr had more important places for him to be.

       So, after telling Bob that he should not have drunk the water here, we
set about our first duty which was to return the sword.  We gathered the
weapon from the Guild, and marched promptly off to the High Church of Ishtar.
 Since we have arrived in Nvym-Dar right in the middle of its Yule
celebration, the streets, as well as the Church were crowded.  And our cadre,
carrying a two handed cleaver through the crowds of festival goers attracted
no small attention, especially from the town guards.  But, when they saw that
the sword was peace bonded, so that it could not be drawn, and that we wore
only daggers and small weapons of the kind that are allowed to city dwellers,
their worries were put somewhat at ease, and we made our way to the High
Church unmolested.

     They were most pleased to have their sword back, let me tell you.  The
High Priestess herself came from her duties, which must be near overwhelming
during these High Holy Days, to receive the weapon from us.   They looked up
the weapon, which is named Foehammer, in their Book of Swords, a huge book
which I would dearly love to peruse... not dearly enough to abandon the gods
of the Mountain folk however.  They then told us who had last wielded the
sword, and his approximate time of death, a scant 30 years ago.  The Church
informed us that the family of the fallen warrior would most assuredly want a
Ritual of Placement to occur, whatever that is, and that we would most
probably be invited.  It sounds interesting, but I hope it is not to long.

      After returning the sword, Shali insisted we perform another duty,
which was the reporting of our abduction from this city three years ago, by
one of the largest and most powerful merchant houses in the city, the house
Dolgenen.  So, we marched our selves up top the Halls of Justice, a big gray
imposing structure that, if it were better built, could almost be of Mountain
folk design.

     There, we were led into separate small rooms, and asked to sit in chairs
while we told our story.  The room had a ritual of True Speaking worked into
their very walls, so that the Priests of Tyr and Ishtar, who took our
statement, knew that we spoke what we believed to be the truth.  At least,
that is what they told us, and we have no reason to doubt them.

     After the taking of our statements, they asked if we wished to press
charges, but cautioned us that folks who crossed the House Dolgenen, had an
odd habit of meeting with accidents.  Nothing has ever been proven against
Dolgenen, but appearances are against them.  We decided to think it over for
a while, meanwhile, the report stands.

     After that unpleasant duty, we went shopping.  Although the cloths our
guide purchased us fit reasonably well, and are warm, they are plain.  So, we
set about to buy some much nicer cloths, Shali informs us that black is a
color that must be worn to a Ritual of Placement, so we will do black for
now; I am fond of the color anyway.  We were able to find a great deal of
 well made and pleasing garments, so, by the end of our spree, we were all
set up with new trousers, embroidered  tunics, new leather boots and warm,
fur lined capes that matched our cloths.  I must admit, we look downright
military as we walk through town in our new outfits, and I suspect that Shali
had no small measure to do with that.  It was pleasant to spend almost an
entire day doing nothing but spending money, with any luck, this shall become
a habit with which I am not so unfamiliar.

     Day the next.  After another breakfast, which even had fresh fruit! in
it, we set off into town once again.  Vasquez ( the other Mountain folk in
our party- a skilled warrior, and a fire mage, with a temper to match) went
 straight to her Collage's Hall.  I accompanied her as far as the door.
 After I had waited an hour for her to emerge, I gave the door a couple
knocks, and when the doorman informed me that Vasquez was being interviewed
by the Magisters of her collage and would be indisposed for several hours at
least, I left.

     As I wandered down the street of magic toward my own Collage's Hall, I
took the time to sell the Runewand that I took from the member of my collage
who had been corrupted by the evil snake woman in the Derlen escapade.  With
the money from the sale of that scepter...which I have no doubt that the
merchant intends to turn around and sell as a magic weapon, I purchased the
reagents needed for two attempts at creating my own Rune Wand.  I already
have one, but it is a flimsy wand of copper, and I have learned that a
Runewand that one can bash something over the head with comes in handy
sometimes.  I shall also make it a point to learn the proper way to wield a
mace while I am here in this city.

     Then it was onto my Collage.  Most Collages maintain a small Reading
Room, or Hall as they are called, in order to provide a place for magicians
of that particular Collage to meet and discuss things of mutual interest.
 The actual collage itself is maintained well outside city limits, as the
Triumvirate which rules Nvym-Dar, feels that the risk of an accident, or
altercation is unduly heightened by having the collages inside the city
walls.  I tend to agree with them.

     After being admitted to the Rune Magics Hall, I requested an interview.
 There was a master present who agreed to interview me and review my
qualifications.  Then followed a most grueling five hours as the master asked
me question after question concerning the phonetics of certain races speech
patterns, the similarities between High Elvish and Thaytian languages, the
manifestation of energy and its transmogrifacation by the top arching of the
Rune Hlack, and many other questions of such a nature did he ask me.

     At the end, he said he was impressed, and agreed that I was learned
enough in the ways of the Runes to advance to Adept status, and thus learn
some of the true Mysteries of my collage.  I was overjoyed! elated and most
exuberant, until he told me the fee.  The Collage would want almost 500
pieces of gold for the tutoring!

     Ah well, knowledge does not come cheap, no matter what form the coin is,
be it the gold to a collage, or the coin of pain as a weapons master cracks
your rib, teaching you that your defense is lacking.  Hopefully, we shall be
able to find a buyer for the gryphon eggs, for the collage fee will just
about wipe out the monies I have on hand. Not to mention the runesticks, inks
and whatnot that I must still purchase, and I had been hoping to at least put
money down on a new set of armor.  These thoughts, and others, did occupy my
mind as I wandered homeward, or at least Inn ward, for no Mountain folk could
truly call this flatlander city a home.

     I arrived home late, and stayed up to have a pint of ale.  It is not
Mountain Ale of course.  There are some higher class taverns here that do
sell the ale of my people, but that brew does not survive the shipping well,
and so what may have started out in Thunderhold as the Mountain Ale, arrives
here as a flat and bitter sludge, bearing little resemblance to the Dark
Nectar of my people.  So, I settle for an amber ale, produced by some local
brewer; it is of passable quality, and the best I am going to find so far
from the mountains.

     It was a good thing I stayed up, because late in the evening, Shali,
Merlaine and Brianna came home from escorting Merlaine to her Collage's Hall.
 It is a good thing that several of them went, for when they came through the
Inn door, I could see that Merlaine was bleeding, and Shali looked a bit
worse for wear as well.  

     Once we had them settled and cleaned up and a hot cup of tea in
Merlain's hands, we were told what happened.

     It seems as if two ruffians thought that three women, unarmed except for
daggers or main gauche, presented too tempting a tempting target to pass up.
 The two men pretended to be drunk and staggering home from an evenings
revelry, and as they passed my three companions, revealed blackjacks that had
been hidden beneath their cloaks.  Naturally, a fight ensued.  I must admit,
I wish I had been there, if only to see the expression on the two men's
faces.  For Shali prepared her daggers, in which she is expert, and Merlaine
drew her main gauche, and with a scream of outrage, attacked their would-be
assailants.  Brianna stood her ground and screamed for the guards..ah well,
we cannot all be blessed with a warrior's spirit.

     It became apparent very quickly to the two ruffians that they were
outmatched, and they tried to flee down a nearby alleyway.  It was then that
I probably would have had to stop pounding their faces into the dirt and
laugh, for Merlaine dashed after her assailant, and slammed him into the wall
of a nearby house in order to prevent him from escaping.  Shali for her part,
threw her dagger at her retreating assailant, hitting him in the thigh and
wounding him greivousley, causing him to limp.  It was then that she realized
she had thrown her best dagger, and it was still embedded in the ruffian's
leg!  Determined not to let such an unworthy creature carry off her only
silvered dagger, Shali took off in hot pursuit, which was not difficult as
the man was limping badly.

     And, miracle of miracles, the town guard did actually show up shortly
thereafter!  I imagine they were amused to come upon the scene of two unarmed
and unarmored women, one of whom was chasing after a bleeding and limping
man, yelling at him to halt and return her dagger, while the other woman, an
elven healer of slight build,who gets sick when combat occurs, was down a
narrow alleyway gleefully bashing an armored man's face into a stone wall
time and time again.

     According to Shali, the guards took one look at the assailants, who had
maintained a death grip on their blackjacks, and had no trouble determining
who was at fault, since blackjacks are an illegal weapon.  The guards then
pounded the ruffians faces into the wall a few more time to subdue them, and
after asking Merlaine if her wound needed attending too, and taking
statements from Shali, Merlaine, Brianna and a few people who had been
peering out their windows, marched the offenders off to the Gray Halls.

     So, now the healer here at the Inn has attended to Merlaine, and we have
given her a calming tea, as she is most upset at the fact that the ruffians
managed to put a large gash in her new clothing.  I think that sleep is what
is needed, and so I shall bring this first entry in my journal to a close and
retire.   Perhaps another pint of ale before I go to bed will help keep the
nightmares at bay this evening.  No matter how comfortable the bed, I think I
shall be having nightmares about Derlen and it's swamps for many nights to
come.  Yes, another pint of ale is definitely in order.


    By My Hand, this twenty ninth day of Dacambre, 
    in the Year of our Lady 539.
     
                                               Drashak Khea Milari