Rise of the Runelords VA

Razan's Account of Events
Wherein She Encounters A Strange Group And Then A Far Stranger One

Dear Javhed,

I completely understand now why I was sent to these people. They are adrift, they are capricious, and they do not trust one another. How then are they supposed to do anything against the evil that descends? I admit, my training has taught me little about the demi-human cultures, but surely they cannot represent millennia of proud tradition. So far these people have been little more than petty and quarrelsome – although I admit they are all glorious warriors. Brother, I am at a loss as to how to unify them.

Syphacia and Mallisun #1
Syphacia and Mallisun in Turtleback Ferry

The calls of the ferrymen on the lake echoed up from the water and over the rooftops of the small hamlet of Turtleback Ferry. At past midnight, they were nearly the only sound to be heard, apart from the calls of night birds and the high songs of summer insects. From the eave of a silent inn, the elf Syphacia listened to their distant cries, and wondered if they were the source of her disquiet. Surely she had been in worse places before. Surely the world had given her worse things to consider in the dead of night.

Coram's Continuing Adventures

I don't kno whow long I can take this, really. I'm just about done with these people, and my desire to leave them keeps getting stronger. It seems that no matter what I do, nothing is good enogh for them.  If it weren't for my need to get their assistance on a task that a God, of all things, insisted I undertake, I'd be gone by now.

Syphacia seems intent on tracking down the source of what corrupted her friend. Surprisingly, that has dovetailed into my own mission.  So, things actually seemed to start off on as good of a note as possible for our group. But of course, things had to go downhill from there.

And also

Razan seems really hot, but pushy, not that can always be a bad thing in the right circumstances…

Aramil's journal

I don’t think I have ever been so disgusted in my life. These half-ogres or whatever you call them just can’t be contained in the word “vile.” All the things I have seen, all the things I have been taught about the other planees, could have prepared me for those revolting creatures and their eating and living habits.

I am just glad it is over—for the time being at least. I have to be strong for the others. No doubt we will encounter more and they will need me. It’s all just a good reminder why I fight on the side of life and fight to preserve it rather than just snuff it out on a whim or for breakfast.


Regdar seems really withdrawn, even for a dwarf. I wonder what I did. I will have to ask him how he is doing.

From the Journal of Redgar Ironhand #13
Redgar wakes twice at Turtleback Ferry

This morning, I awoke twice. First was on a river boat approaching Turtleback ferry. I was happy to be at the end of my journey and ready to venture on with my companions to face our next adversaries. I was happy to have purpose again, ready to put bad memories behind us, and eager to accept a new hero named Razan into our jolly band. Upon arriving in town, are party went their separate ways to prepare for the journey to come, and I sought out the blacksmith to get some time in at the forge.

Redgar and Syphacia at a Funeral
Redgar and Syphacia follow Emmalyn on the final steps of her journey

During Emmalyn’s ceremony, Redgar and Syphacia stand to one side of the altar. Redgar is in his armor, and Syphacia wears her dappled cloak with her bow and arrows slung across her back. Since Emmalyn’s death, the two have been nearly constantly by her side, keeping vigil over the body until it can be laid to rest. Both have done their best to look presentable for the ceremony, but there is an obvious fatigue in their bearings, like an invisible weight borne across their shoulders.

Coram's Journal continued

The longer I live, the less I understand. 

 A few months ago, I mentioned that I died. Well, Ooops I did it again. This is getting old. Quickly.

Aramil's Words

Aramil waits until Father Zantus has left the podium. There are tears in his eyes which he tries to hide through the hood of his white robe. He can’t even see if the Varisians have left the cathedral by the time he is ready to speak.

A dream of a hero
Remembering the Fallen

The Sandpoint Cathedral looks particularly resplendent today – the sunlight gleams from its rose window, the stained glass in the form of a butterfly in flight. The multicolored light falls on a closed casket at the front.


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