Hammer and Anvil

Journal of Bryce Weyland 606AR

Gormin 6th Tempen, 606 AR

I learned several things last night. First of all despite my best efforts there are still poisons out there that can overcome my considerable resistance, secondly it’s not the best idea to run off into the woods after an unknown number of assailants immediately after discovering the first fact. I’d blame the intellect draining attributes of the poison, but I’m supposed to be better than that. It turned out ok in the end, our enemy was quickly dispatched although Bronah almost died as in the middle of a duel with Kaelynn the young woman we had picked up earlier in the day(who appears to have been in cahoots with the bandits all along) Morty decided it was a good idea to show off his marksmanship skills and shoot the blade out of her hand! I don’t know where he got the idea from, but I’m going to have to sit him down and have a word with him.
The rest of the journey to Fellig went by without incident, although the last few leagues brought out a curious feeling of homesickness, obviously a side effect of the previous night’s poisoning… Fellig has changed since the last time I laid eyes on it, the defenses are more imposing and there is a grimness to it’s people that wasn’t there before despite it’s checkered history. I bumped into my old friend Weasel (of Mrs Wickham’s sticky chickens fame) upon entering the city, now holding a position of rank in the Cygnaran military! Proof more than anything of how serious the situation has become here. He mentioned that there might be some work available, I’ll check up with him tomorrow. The rest of the day was spent with the group blowing off steam, now that they no longer under the threat of being ambushed at any moment while escorting essentially a giant bomb.
The new recruit Tobias (I shall look forward to getting to know him better in the coming weeks) parted company for a while with the intention of increasing his already impressive arsenal using his contacts in the military and from what I gather ruining some poor saps career/life. From the grin on his face I can only assume it went well.
Meanwhile using my local knowledge I was tasked with keeping Morty entertained/out of trouble and finding ol’ Stump a hand cannon, luckily the Meat Locker was up the job. Amazingly Morty not only didn’t start any fights, he also managed to end the night with more money than he started with!
We are now back in the inn, I’m bunking with Morty as I can’t stand the thought of another night of Stumps snoring. We will collect our payment for the successful delivery of our shipment and hopefully pick up another job. I’ve got a good feeling about tomorrow.

Gormin 7th Tempen 606AR
I was wrong. Today was not a good day. It appears that our apparent wealth and good fortune caught the eye of some of the many disreputable elements that frequents the Meat Locker and from what I can only assume was a group consensus that we would be better off sharing it with those less fortunate than us, at knife point. Now I don’t know if Stump is a bad influence on Tobias or vice versa, all I know is that our would be burglars had the distinct misfortune of entering their room first. It appears that our comrades-in-arms subscribe to the philosophy of ‘Shoot first, ask questions later’ or more accurately ‘Give warning first, wait until the intruder has stopped, possibly rethinking the entire endeavour, then shooting to kill, deal with the moral and legal ramifications later’, but the former rolls off the tongue better. So now half the party is languishing behind bars until a hearing date is set. Sometimes I wonder I would be better off going it alone. A man with my skills would be in high demand with the way the world is at the moment. I must say, I was impressed with Mort’s self control, if I didn’t know any better I would say I was rubbing off on him.

Vendarl 1st Cinten 606AR
We may be in Fellig for longer than was planned. The Khadorans have began their siege, the shelling started in the early hours of the morning and continued throughout the day. The hearing to free our incarcerated fellows has been pushed back indefinitely and any attempts to get them released to help out with the war effort have fallen on deaf ears. Determined not to let the day go to waste, I have began conducting some research in an attempt to create the poison that Kaelynn afflicted us with, partly to create an antidote in-case we run across it again, but also to make us of ourselves. So far I am coming up blank, but I have some interesting theories. I just need to get hold of some Crag Troll cerebral fluid, which may have to wait until the Khadoran’s have been sent scurrying back to their mummyland.

Vendarl 2nd Cinten 606AR
It seem’s our fortunes may be changing, whether to better or worse that remains to be seen. We met with Weasel in the morning, who passed on word that the Duke requested our presence. We made our way to see the Duke accompanied by the fanfare of exploding artillery shells. Once there we were swiftly escorted to the Duke who appeared to have use of our skills. Khadoran soldiers taking advantage of the artillery barrage have penetrated the Cygnaran battle line and are harassing the fleeing Fellig civilians. They appear to have made an abandoned manor in the Thornwood their bases of operations, and we have been tasked with their removal. Sounds simple enough, however that abandoned manor is home, my home. I have done my best to put my past behind me, worse things have happened to better people after all. But it appears I haven’t buried it deep enough and now to find out that some fucking Khadoran’s have holed up in my family’s ancestral home like a nest of rats is almost more than I can bear. Three things helped me make it through that meeting without my facade of calm collectiveness cracking was firstly the thought that soon enough I would be able to take out my frustrations on the perpetrators of such a crime, secondly the payment for the completion of the mission would be the return of my family’s holding’s to my name and finally the look on Morty’s face when he found out that I am technically nobility. We have been forwarded command of a squad of Cygnaran rangers, who will no doubt come in handy when storming a fortified manor filled with who knows how many enemy soldiers. We also secured the release of Tobias and Stump, albeit at the loss of the payment of our last contract. This will not go unaddressed, but for now there are more important things to attend. The rest of the day was spent in preparation, rifles and crossbows getting unassembled, cleaned and reassembled, blades getting sharpened, Mortlock and I requisitioned some ranger armor, the extra stealth it provides seen as a worth trade off for the diminished protectiveness. Tobias, seeming unfazed by his recent accommodations, went to work on his ‘Master Plan’, impressing me with it’s thoroughness. I also brewed a batch of Night’s Black to further increase our ability to go unnoticed until we ‘go loud’ as Tobias so quaintly puts it.

Vendarl 3rd Cinten 606AR
Today was mostly travel. The Weyland estates aren’t too far from Fellig but the effort to evade any detection from the woodsman or (even worse) Widowmakers who may be patrolling the Thornwoods surrounding the Manor meant it took up most of the day. We successfully avoided making our presence known and we are now camped out in the old escape tunnel that I last used to flee this place a lifetime ago. Although a part of me must have always been planning to return at some point, why else would I have kept the key all these years…

Vendarl 4th Cinten 606AR
Sleep came reluctantly last night and the bit I managed to catch was plagued with nightmares replaying over and over again that terrible night I lost my family and started down the path to become the man I am today. How can a place change so much and yet remain exactly the same? Everywhere I look I see something that triggers a memory, perfectly preserved like a fly in amber. We have been laying low, keeping watch on the guards patrolling along the tops of the wall trying to discern when they will be most vulnerable to attack. The opposition is formidable, they seem to have a least five mortars setup along with an equal number of field guns to make any frontal assault suicidal. We are outnumbered, at least five to one, but not a man among us has offered a word of complaint. I could not be more proud. We plan to attack in the early hours of the morning when the Khadoran scum will be at the most off guard with Mortlock and I taking the lead we plan to enter through the entrance to the escape tunnel and quickly and quietly take out as many of the bastards we can before they are aware of us, then the real work will begin.. My anger has cooled, become forged into a blade of hatred soon to be quenched in the blood of my foes.
[[:tobias-flint | Mortlock Graves]]

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