Campaign Log: A Doe Among Wolves

[coronatiger]

Hello everyone! I have done my duties as GM (hopefully to my players' satisfacion) and now the time has come for me to be a full-time player again. I'm looking forward to that.

The previous campaign was set in the world of Feidvang (mainly my creation, but players from both my groups have contributed). This is a TL 3-4 fantasy setting where the main culture bears strong resemblances to norse/viking culture, although Feidvang is more feudal than what was actually the case during Scandinavia's viking age.

Strange phenomena were observed, and the seven goddesses tasked the PCs with investigating them. (Actually, each player chose one goddess to align with, and the chosen goddesses were naturally more central to the campaign.) The PCs discovered that the phenomena were caused by an alien race using dimension portals to research Feidvang and prepare to launch a full-scale invasion. By befriending powerful people from one of the dwarven kingdoms, the PCs got access to the military might and technology required to launch a counter-attack against the aliens. An explosion was set off, destroying the alien portal machine; one of the PCs bravely sacrificed himself so the rest of the PCs and the dwarven commandos could return to Feidvang before the portals vanished.

The new campaign is set in the same world, at approximately the same time. We had our session 0.5 yesterday, where we put the last finishing touches on our characters as well as playing through the introduction of how we met. This campaign began in the city of Rødvik, which the PCs from the last campaign had visited, so naturally, a question was raised of whether our new characters had heard of the old party's exploits there. After consulting the calendar, we discovered that unfortunately, the old party hadn't arrived in Rødvik yet, so there were no exploits to be heard of. We'll have to see if we run into references from the old campaign later. That could be fun, but I expect we'll have a great time playing through the new campaign even without encountering people or stories from the old one.

I intend to log the unfolding campaign here on the forum in my usual fashion, i.e. by describing people and places, events and encounters from my character's point of view. I'll also post a character sheet for my character, as well as short descriptions of the most important NPCs, although I may not update these after each session. I may also make short writeups of some core topics from the Feidvang world; this will often be things my character won't have much knowledge about, so I can't discuss them naturally in the narration, but which may help the reader immerse themselves in the story.

Many names of people and places are in Norwegian. That's the language we speak at our gaming table, and it's close enough to the language spoken by the vikings a thousand years ago that it suits the campaign world (or at least the region where our campaign begins). I'll leave it for the foreign-speaking reader to hit up Google Translate or similar tools if they are curious about a name's meaning, although I may discuss some names if I can weave it into the story.

The character creation requirements given by the GM were that we had to end our backstories in Rødvik as prisoners about to debark on a sea voyage to a penal colony and give reason for why we had been arrested and convicted, i.e. we had to come up with a sufficiently serious crime that our characters had been found guilty of committing. I'll tell you about mine when I present my backstory, and I'll hopefully learn about the others' during the course of our adventures.

Warning: All members of our group are adults, and our games feature topics that some readers may find inappropriate or disturbing. I will use the literary technique called "fading to black" where necessary. Please be respectful in your comments. Explicit descriptions of sex/nudity are not allowed on this forum, and will be deleted.

[coronatiger]

The Party:

• Edel Blinkborg (played by me) - Street urchin. Human, but my purple eyes and almost white hair makes me look like an ice elf, if you don't look too closely at my ears.
• Koldan Antonov (played by MK) - Brawler. Brown-eyed mountain dwarf. His red hair and beard haven't known the gentle touch of a comb in recent times. Used to be very protective towards Karya; they clearly have history. Seems to have transferred those feelings to Grimleif after Karya drowned.
• Grimleif (played by JKS) - Alchemist. Dark dwarf with gray eyes, gray skin and gray-white beard. Looks older than Koldan, and not only because he's bald. Intolerant towards non-dwarves, but I don't mind keeping my distance, because he reeks! A different odor each day.
• Karya (NPC) - Brawler. Possibly an ice elf; looks like a taller version of me, but with pointy ears. Extremely chummy. Deceased. (Drowned when Sindre dragged her into the dark depths during a psychotic episode.)
• Sindre Sild (NPC) - Gangster. Human male. Talkative and companionable, but wants everyone to join the Claw. Deceased. (Suicide by drowning.)
• Torkil (NPC) - Brute. Huge mutant hybrid of orc, human and possibly something else. Has perhaps taken one too many blows to the head. Deceased. (Presumed to have gone down with the Southern Wind and drowned.)
• Rune Mørk (NPC) - Soldier (Jaggard). Human male. Disfigured from burn/acid scars on his head, has a glass eye. Leader of the Jaggard.
• Lulla (NPC) - Soldier (Jaggard). Human female. Short, blond hair, crooked nose.
• Snurre (NPC) - Soldier (Jaggard). Human male. The youngest of the Jaggard, he is blond and has a face that could be mistaken for a girl's.
• Bjørn (NPC) - Soldier (Jaggard). Human male. He only has one arm. Did he lose the other in the battle where he and his friends were taken captive?
• Karl Egil (NPC) - Soldier (Jaggard). Human male. He has a scar on his lip and is missing a few teeth. Despite his youth, he's the Jaggard's second in command, and their weapon master.

[coronatiger]

Personal Info
Name: Edelkint Missandra Lorelei Glintburg
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 15
Occupation: Street kid

Point value
Total points: 51
Unspent: 16

Primary Stats
ST: 8
DX: 12
IQ: 10
HT: 10
SM: 0

Secondary Stats
HP: 8
Will: 10
Per: 11
FP: 10
BS: 5.5
BM: 5
BL: 13

Advantages
Ambidexterity
Attractive
Fit
Signature Gear (medallion)

Perks
Fast Undraw

Disadvantages
Charitable (12)
Enemies (Unknown, same power level, Hunter)
Light Sleeper
Pacifism (Reluctant Killer)
Social Stigma (Minor)

Quirks
Doesn't like to break the law, at least not personally
Low Alcohol Tolerance
Timid
Very possessive of medallion
Wants to find Mom's killer and get payback

Culture/Languages
Familiarity with Viking culture
Ardisk (Native/None)
Vulontsisk (Broken/None)

Skills
Acrobatics 12
Area Knowledge (Rødvik) 10
Climbing 11
Gesture 10
Holdout 10
Observation 11
Savoir-Faire (High Society) 10
Scrounging 11
Shadowing 9
Sleight of Hand 10
Soldier 9
Stealth 12
Streetwise 10
Survival (Woodlands) 10
Swimming 10
Throwing Stuff! 12
Tracking 11
Urban Survival 10

Techniques
Juggling Performance 15

[coronatiger]

Backstory

My name is Edelkint Missandra Lorelei, but only my mother called me that, and only when I’d misbehaved. Everyone else knows me simply as Edel. My surname sounds a little like Blinkborg, but my mother has instructed me that a curse lies upon our name and danger would befall me if I ever spoke that name out loud. Nobody I know has more than two names, so I would feel pretentious if I were to claim four, and I’m not the kind of person that wants too much attention.

I’m fifteen years old, and until recently, I lived in Rødvik, the capital of Ardaland and seat of the empress. Some say that Rødvik is the largest city in the whole world, with over two hundred thousand inhabitants. I’ve known no other place, and I can’t imagine what a forest looks like, or mountains, although I have heard stories. I have spent countless hours standing on the docks, looking out over the huge bay after which the city apparently was named. The water is blue, and sometimes green when the weather is right, but never red as the name would suggest. My friends have called me odd for pondering such things; to them, this is how it is, and why it is so is not important.

Despite having had a bed to sleep in, at least most nights, I consider myself a street urchin. During the daylight hours, I used to run with the Grey Cat Crew, providing distractions for their shoplifters and pickpockets. At nightfall, I returned to the Perfumed Halls, waiting to see if my mother had an overnight client or if she was too strung-up on her drugs to be around. If my luck was in, I had a safe night in my mother’s embrace. If not, I went back out to find some Grey Cats to hole up with.

When my mother wasn’t busy or high, she was the best mom in the world. All her attention was on me, then, to make sure I had clothes on my back and food in my belly. And she told the most wonderful stories, usually about our homeland, where we came from.

My mother was an excellent storyteller, but as I grew older, I figured out that most of her tales were made out of whole cloth, and I believed several to be inspired by drug-induced visions. My mother might not always be dependable, but there was nothing wrong with her imagination. With my mother spending most of her earnings on drugs, we didn’t have much, but her stories allowed me to dream myself away to a better place. I never could decide if any of the fantastic places she described was actually where we came from, but if I were to bet, I would put my money on Vulontz. There was a kind of sadness that sometimes came over my mother when she mentioned that land. However, I have never heard anyone else mention the place, so either it is far away from Ardaland, or it existed only in my mother’s stories.

Often, my mother’s stories were spurred on by me asking why something was the way it was. When I asked why our family name was cursed, she could have said simply, “We fled our homeland Vulontz because an evil wizard wants to kill us. If we say our true name, he will find us and call down lightning upon us.” When I asked why our eyes are purple unlike every other human I’ve seen, the short answer would be, “We have ice elf blood running through our veins,” but my mother always dreamed up elaborate answers that took minutes, if not hours, to narrate.

Once, my mother gave me a gift, an intricately carved medallion depicting a stag rearing over a wolf. She threaded a leather cord through the medallion and made a necklace, telling me this medallion was a family heirloom. I doubted the veracity of that statement, for I had never seen it before. More likely, it was a gift from one of her customers, and she wanted me to have it before she sold it for drugs. I thought it looked very fine, but it couldn’t be worth much, or my mother would have taken it back the next time she got the cravings.

I think I was about five or six when my mother decided I was too big to stuff into our closet when she couldn’t find a babysitter among the other working girls. She put me on the street and told me to come back when the sun went down. It was a scary experience, but I quickly found friends among the street kids. A boy named Arn took me under his wing. He was only a few years older than me, but he seemed to know everything about living on the streets.

The Grey Cat Crew stole to survive, which I understood very well. I regularly went to sleep on an empty stomach. My mother had taught me that stealing was wrong, though, so I wasn’t entirely comfortable with it. The crew found a workaround for me, in that I could make a distraction while the others did the actual stealing. I decided that this had to be acceptable. I felt so bad for my friends! I would have preferred if we didn’t have to steal at all, but when the alternative was starvation, I convinced myself I could go along.

At first, my distractions consisted of me running around, screaming and bumping into people, but Arn commented on my habit of tossing a pebble from hand to hand when I was bored and said that I should try to learn to juggle. If I got good at it, I could make a few coins by performing, and whether I got good or not, he thought it should make an excellent distraction. Over the years, I got pretty good, if I say so myself. Perhaps I have a talent for it, or maybe it was just all those hours of persistent practice.

I was twelve when my mother died. I returned one evening to our room, only to find a black-clad man standing over her lifeless body. He must have heard me come in, for the man turned and clobbered me over the head with a heavy fist, knocking me out. When I woke, he was gone. My head hurt, and I couldn’t wake my mother, so I wept silently. The owner of the brothel didn’t take kindly to the disturbance of children crying.

While I had been out cold, my mother’s killer had ransacked the room. I wasn’t sure I was still alive, when I woke up, with the blinding pain radiating from the side of my head. The strike had cracked my head open, but the bleeding had stopped by the time I woke up. The killer hadn’t thought that was enough, for he had stabbed me in the gut too. That wound had also stopped bleeding. How long had I been unconscious? And why hadn’t anyone come by and found me?

I had enough street smarts to figure out that this had not been a business deal gone wrong. That man had come with evil intent. When I thought about it, I concluded that he must have come to kill my mother. Why, I did not know, but there could be no other explanation. We owned nothing of value, so the ransacking of the room had to be for show. He had done a thorough job of it, even turning out my pockets. My medallion was safely tucked away under my shirt, and the killer would probably have taken it, had he found it, for it looks like it could fetch a good price, particularly if the buyer could be convinced the brass was actually gold.

I went out to find the Grey Cat Crew again, and Arn. I dared not stay, not even to see my mother buried. If she had been killed for something she had known, the killer could easily conclude that I knew it too. Some of the ladies at the Perfumed Halls might have taken me in, but they were liabilities now. I couldn’t let them know where I went, let alone ask them for help.

[coronatiger]

Arn convinced me it would be safest for me to stay with the crew. I had considered leaving town, but he pointed out that I knew nothing of the outside world, and since I wouldn’t stoop to stealing, I wouldn’t get far.

For most, membership in the Crew was for life, as short as that may be, but some retired when they found jobs, usually at the docks, where the boys became laborers or sailors, while the girls became prostitutes. Most who survived to adulthood continued a life of crime, though. Some left Rødvik altogether to seek fortune on their own, but most were accepted into the Honorables, who controlled the crime around the harbor district. I know the leaders of the Grey Cat Crew sometimes had dealings with the Honorables, but I’ve not been involved in that.

If someone died, be it from hunger or cold, sickness or drowning, we all found out soon enough, and those who left voluntarily always said their goodbyes before leaving. Thus, it caused much talk and speculation when Arn disappeared without a trace. I was distraught with the sudden loss of my best friend, but life had to go on. I looked for Arn whenever I could, but my other friends needed me, and I couldn’t let them down.

It was only a few months later that my life suddenly took another turn for the worse. A heist went wrong and we had to flee from the city watch. Turhild stubbed her toe against a cartwheel and would be caught if the coppers didn’t slow down, so I turned around and barreled into the pursuers, screaming madly at them. It didn’t take them long to subdue me, but those few precious seconds allowed Turhild to get away and hide.

One of the coppers took me by the scruff of the neck and marched me back to the guardhouse, where I was thrown into a cell with three others. The sleeping man reeked of cheep booze and the other man nursed a broken arm. While they looked big and strong, I wasn’t afraid of them, or at least not too afraid. The drunkard would probably be released when he woke up and if the brawler tried anything, I’d hit him in the arm.

It was the third person who terrified me. I recognized the woman from the Perfumed Halls, and I was scared out of my wit that she would recognize me as well. My worry was unnecessary, for the woman just stared blankly at me. Three years must have altered my features more than I had believed. If there was any emotion behind those glassy eyes, it was pity. A guard came and dragged me away almost before my racing heart had quieted down. The prostitute opened her mouth as if to protest, but she remained quiet.

The guard deposited me in the captain’s office and left us alone. I heard a click behind me as the lock was turned in the door, and while the captain sat behind his desk, it suddenly felt like he was looming over me. “Well, well, what have we here? A thief?” The captain had a slight accent, a seemingly familiar tinge to his voice, but one I couldn’t place. Who was he? Had we met before? “What’s your name, little girl?” I may look younger than I actually am, and if I wasn’t so intimidated I would have taken offense at that moniker.

As a street kid I saw this man as one of our sworn enemies, so I wanted to be as uncooperative as possible, but somehow, my mouth opened on its own and the words “Edel Blinkborg” escaped my lips. The captain sat there, calmly cleaning his nails with a dagger, but my brain was frozen with fear, my eyes fixed on the cold steel.

“You’re quite the pretty one, aren’t you,” the captain said, now twirling the dagger absentmindedly while he scrutinized my face. “Are you just as pretty under your clothes? Take them off and show me.” I hesitated, but I knew there was no way I could escape, so when the dagger stopped twirling and the captain sat up straight, I peeled off my shirt and dropped my pants. “Underwear too, little girl,” the captain said, standing up and crossing the room. I closed my eyes prayed to Jevne for protection. I’ve never been very devout, but if there ever was a time to pray, it was now.

“What’s this, then?” the captain asked, hooking his dagger under the cord around my neck. As he fished out the medallion from my breast band, Jevne answered my prayer. The captain’s dagger slipped, and his thumb was sliced open. The swearwords that poured from the captain’s mouth rivaled some of the best I’d heard on the streets. He hurled the dagger away and rushed back to his desk to find a handkerchief to wrap his wound.

The goddess of justice had truly spooked the captain, and he stared me right in the eyes for a full minute while clutching his thumb. “What did you say your name was again?” he asked. “Edel Blinkborg,” I repeated, this time with a little confidence. “Are you sure about that, girl?” he pressed on. “Um, not entirely,” I replied, my confidence gone once again. The captain swore again, looking down. At his thumb, I imagined. I had once cut my own finger, and I still remembered the pain.

Still staring at his thumb, the captain told me to put my clothes back on, and I happily obliged. I tucked my medallion back into its hiding place. When the captain’s pain faded, he looked up at me and declared, “You have been convicted of theft, and you are sentenced to penal transportation. A ship lies at the docks at this very moment. It will take you to a place where you will work off your debt to society, punishment for your crimes.”

The captain made me stand in the corner while he handed out orders to his men. Then I was taken back to the cell. My former cellmates had been moved elsewhere while I was away. Basking in the luxury of having my own room, I didn’t wonder very much what had happened to them.

In the privacy of my cell, I removed the leather cord from my medallion. Despite being a late bloomer, since receiving the medallion from my mother I have developed a small storage space under by breast band. Unless I am totally reckless, the medallion shouldn’t fall down even without the cord. And as I had just learned, the cord would only indicate that something was hidden. I couldn’t think why the captain hadn’t confiscated my medallion; he clearly thought it was stolen. I could just hope he forgot to mention it to anyone, and if the goddesses smiled on me, I might hold on to this one thing, my only memento of my mother. I wrapped the leather cord around my ankle and tied it off; it could come in handy.

[coronatiger]

1. An Old Galleon

2nd of Høylys

After spending a couple of days mostly undisturbed in my own private cell, something finally happened. Two guards came and told me to go with them. I put on my shoes – the only objects available suitable for juggling – and approached the bars. I was handcuffed and then they opened the door.

We made a brief stop before exiting the building so the guards could sign some papers and talk quietly to the colleague who produced the paperwork. The sky was gray, but the light drizzle that fell from the clouds was hardly enough to get me wet as we walked across town.

We arrived at the Hand of Jevne after a brisk walk. I had never been inside the large complex of buildings, but I knew several who had, and this was not a place I would have sought out on my own volition. This was the central hub for the city guards, but there was also a prison and a court of law where magistrates handed down justice.

I was brought through to a central courtyard. A line of prisoners was chained together, and my handcuffs were attached at the end, right next to a bald dwarf. He exuded a peculiar mix of perfume and old sweat. I decided that what time he didn’t spend on bathing, he spent on his beard instead. The beard was cropped shorter than any other dwarf’s I’d seen – not that there are that many non-humans in Rødvik – and it varied in color from gray to almost white. He scowled at me for staring, so I pretended to focus my attention elsewhere.

An officer wearing another type of uniform than the city guards ordered everyone to shut up, but not many had been talking in the first place, so I thought he just wanted to assert his authority. The officer announced that we were going to march off. Nobody was to open their traps or try any funny business, or there would be punishments.

People stopped to watch while the long snake wound its way through the city and down to the docks. It wasn’t a common sight, but I had witnessed it a few times myself. The bald dwarf tried to hide his face from the crowd as best he could. I assumed he was ashamed for having been caught at whatever crime he had committed.

The largest ship I’d ever seen waited for us. It was a three-masted galleon that definitely had seen better days. The hull was covered with barnacles and the big red letters announcing the ship’s name, Southern Wind, had faded. I couldn’t read it myself, but someone nearby must have had good eyes and the training to discern words from what to me looked like random squiggles. It might be useful to be able to read, but I had never seen the need to learn, nor had I had the opportunity.

We marched up the gangplank. Unlike us prisoners, the crew looked to be all human. The officers stood on the bridge watching as we lined up in front of them, and I noticed that several had rapiers, not at all a common weapon, and what the Southern Wind lacked in its appearance, the officers’ uniforms more than made up for. The ships armaments were nothing to scoff at either. Two large ballistae pointed right over our heads. If I had ever had any ideas about making trouble, those vanished at the thought of having a large spear shot through my frail body, pinning it to the deck while I bled out.

“Silence! The Captain is going to speak!” The Captain was a big, round woman. She didn’t have much to say, only that there were rules aboard the Southern Wind; the rules would be posted, but someone would read them to us now, since most of us low-class scum probably couldn’t. Another officer produced a sheet of paper and read from it.

Food would be served in the evening. If we wanted breakfast too, we had to pay for it with coupons. We would be confined to our cells most of the time, except for a period of four hours each day when we were to work. Doing the job well would earn us coupons that we could use to get breakfast or luxury items like tobacco, beer or spices to season our food. Equipment we used in our work was to be returned before we went back to our cells, and we were never to possess weapons.

The first hour after returning to our cells was to be used to clean ourselves, our cells and our eating utensils. Every fourth day, we should hand in our clothes for washing, and new clothes would be dealt out. We were to always wear our prisoner’s uniform. In case of an alarm, we should lay down on our stomachs, hands behind our head.

In addition, a number of rules were listed concerning common courtesy and abstaining from using violence. Those were rules that I would have followed anyway, but I guess there might be barbarians among us that needed to hear.

After the rules were read out, we were assigned to cells and taken below. I was to share a cell with four others: Sindre Sild, a human whose name I’d heard mentioned but never met personally; Karya, a tall, pale elf with white hair and purple eyes like me, so I assumed she was an ice elf since wood elves typically display a more earthy color palette; Grimleif, the smelly dwarf; and Koldan Antonov, another dwarf, who had red beard and hair that no comb in Feidvang could untangle. It isn’t uncommon not to have a last name, but I found it odd that mine was omitted. Maybe the guard captain had figured out that the name I told him wasn’t my actual name.

Our cell had four two-tiered bunk beds. Grimleif picked the top bunk on the right, closest to the door. I waited to see if the others had any preferences, but when nobody took action, I sat down in the bottom bed, as far from Grimleif as possible. I curled up in the corner, with my chin resting on my arms on my knees where I could watch the others. Karya and Koldan took the bunks across from me, with Karya above and Koldan below. Sindre took the bottom bunk of the last bed.

Sindre and Karya struck me as the most extroverted among us. Grimleif scowled at everyone, and Koldan looked like he’d employ violence against anyone who messed with Karya. Sindre suggested we all made our introductions, which he thought should include something about why we were there.

[coronatiger]

Sindre had been taken for theft. Grimleif said he had done something stupid, but he assured us nobody was killed. Koldan and Karya had been in a bar fight. Karya went on about how she and Koldan had come to Ardaland together on a smuggler’s ship and she recounted the bar fight in gory detail.

I was content sitting still in my corner, having the others forgetting my presence, until Grimleif suddenly pointed at me and asked what my deal was. “My name is Edel, and I killed someone,” I piped unconvincingly. I don’t know why I said that last bit. Maybe I wanted to appear more intimidating? I was pretty sure Koldan had killed someone in that fight, and when Grimleif asked me for details, his emphasis suggested that he too had lives on his conscience. I steeled myself, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill out, and told him it was none of his business.

Blessedly, Sindre drew attention away from me. He wanted to play a game, and Grimleif offered to guess names of herbs. Koldan and Karya were foreigners who only recently had begun learning our language, so Sindre allowed them to give their replies in their own language, which sounded like nothing I’d ever heard before. Karya opted out of the game, claiming not to know much about herbs, but Koldan participated for a while. Sindre won in the end, when Grimleif couldn’t think of more herbs. Sindre explained that he borrowed a book about herbs from a prison guard, and he and Grimleif exchanged stories about kind guards. I listened with disbelief, but both of them sounded sincere.

The discussions seemed friendly enough, but I watched cautiously from my bunk. Koldan wasn’t much of a talker, and eventually, he suggested a contest of arm-wrestling. Grimleif took him up on it, and they lay down on the floor between the bunks, facing each other. Koldan, being younger and stronger, won easily, and he beat Sindre too, in the second bout. I didn’t like them showing off their strength this way even in a companionable contest; it was too much of a reminder of how easily they could manhandle me if they wanted to. From Karya’s description of the bar fight, she could hold her own, but I held no such misconceptions. A fighter, I am not. When I was challenged to join in the arm-wrestling competition, I shook my head. Sindre told the others that I just was a little shy. He thought I would warm up to them soon enough if I was allowed some space.

The others weren’t able to resume their talks, for guards appeared at the door. We had to gather at the back of the cell, standing with our hands behind our heads while the guards opened the door to deliver five mugs, five bowls and five spoons and to take the blankets from the unused bunks. Sindre marked his things with a nail, saying he didn’t want to risk mixing his things with ours. Koldan removed the pillow case from his pillow and used that as a bag to hold his things. I just put mine in the corner of my bed.

After the guards had gone, Sindre asked if anyone knew where we were going and whether anyone had been there before. Koldan said he didn’t know, and nobody else said anything. Filling in the silence, Koldan said he liked our cell. Grimleif finally volunteered that there had been secrecy concerning our destination. I thought his guards must have said something, unlike mine, who had remained silent.

My cellmates launched into another word game, and when they had forgotten that I was there, I picked up my spoon and tossed it up and down absentmindedly while keeping my eyes on the others. Koldan noticed the movement after a while, so I put the spoon away again.

When it was time for supper, we had to approach the hatch in the cell door, one at a time, with our mug and bowl so we could be served. It was water and stew. I guessed that there wouldn’t be many variations because of the offer to use our coupons to buy beer or spices to make the meal more interesting. Koldan asked the guards when we were supposed to work, but he only got the reply that we would learn soon enough.

After the meal, I waited for the others to go to sleep before I used the chamber pot and lay down myself. The sounds from the other bunks reinforced the feeling that I wasn’t safe. Grimleif might feel the same way; he didn’t appear to be able to sleep either.


3rd of Høylys

Being in the same room as a bunch of hardened criminals had my nerves on edge, and I didn’t sleep well. When the guards knocked on our door to wake us, I didn’t feel like I had slept very much. I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. There was a sour smell in the room, like turned milk, and it didn’t take me long to identify that Grimleif was the source of the stench. Karya looked a bit green; I couldn’t tell if it was because of the smell or because of the rolling of the ship.

The guards escorted us up on deck where we lined up with the rest of the prisoners in front of a tent set up near the bow. If the other cells we had passed had the same capacity as ours, the Southern Wind had room for far more than the fifty prisoners that I could see. Likely, the other prisoners were let out at other times.

An officer stood up inside the tent and addressed us. Her name was Molle Måse, and she was in charge of assigning jobs to us. She said if we did well, we’d get a coupon and we’d have the chance to continue with our jobs. I supposed they would starve us if we couldn’t do anything useful. Molle had a large wax tablet where she would write up the assignments.

Six different jobs had been mentioned yesterday, and they were repeated for us today. I got the impression that we could suggest other work, and I wasn’t the only one who thought so. Grimleif told Molle that he was skilled at brewing beer and spirits. The way he scowled at her, I thought he was going to receive a lashing, but Molle only told him to go to the kitchen and peel potatoes. If he did well, he could get more responsibility and more interesting tasks later.

Koldan said that he and Karya would work up in the mast. That wasn’t on the list either, and they too were told that if they did well at cleaning the decks, they might get more interesting work later. Sindre offered to tell stories to the guards and crew, to entertain them, and he managed to charm Molle into letting him try, but she warned him that he might be demoted if he ran out of entertaining tales.

I thought all the given options sounded boring, too physically demanding, or both, but then an idea struck me. If I volunteered to peel potatoes, I would have an infinite supply of things to juggle, if I couldn’t stand the drudgery anymore. A guard brought me to the kitchen, where Grimleif and another prisoner had already started. The cook told me to be careful to cut away only the outer skin of the potatoes so food wouldn’t be wasted. Three more prisoners were escorted into the kitchen after me, one at a time, presumably for security reasons, but I could tell the cook wasn’t too pleased with having to repeat his instructions so many times.

I had never peeled a potato in my life, so I took extra care when I carved into them. For all their precautions, the single guard watching over us had to divide his attention, and I pondered the wisdom of handing out knives to us. The guards clearly didn’t think these counted as weapons, being small and not too sharp, but in an inattentive moment, the guard could find a knife or two blossoming from his throat. Not that I would ever do any such thing, but if it crossed my mind, it surely occurred to the others. I just hoped they didn’t make trouble.

[coronatiger]

When the cook came to inspect our work, he told both Grimleif and me that we ought to do better. Grimleif if he aspired to more – he must have told the cook he wanted to brew – and me if I wanted to keep the job. When the cook had passed us, Grimleif muttered that the only thing potatoes were good for was to make brew. I mumbled that that wasn’t the only thing they were good for, thinking that potatoes were easier to juggle than what I had available in the cell, a mug, a bowl and a spoon.

After four hours, our shift was over, and we were gathered on deck, in front of Molle’s tent. She had received reports of how everyone had done, and coupons were handed out. They were small, oblong pieces of wood with some inscription burned into them, just too large for me to conceal in my hand. I got one coupon while Grimleif got two, but I was allowed to try again tomorrow. I didn’t see how many my other roommates received. Molle said we could use coupons now to buy tobacco or spices, or in the morning when breakfast was offered. Nobody from my cell wanted to buy anything now, so we were taken to our cell.

Now was the time to clean our eating utensils, our cell and ourselves. The guards provided rags and a bucket of water. Sindre suggested hanging up a blanket in the middle of the room so we could wash in private. Koldan volunteered to clean the floor, and I offered to do the dishes while I waited for my turn behind the blanket. Koldan and Karya launched into a song, but I didn’t think they were very good at it, nor did I understand what they were singing about. The guards retrieved the rags and the bucket after an hour.

I sat down on my bunk so I could watch the others while tossing my spoon. Sindre continued where he left off at work and told us stories about Rødvik. After a couple of hours, I thought I would try to get some sleep, but just then, the guards announced that we were going to have another cellmate, Torkil.

Torkil looked like a mutant hybrid of an orc and a human, and possibly something else. A tower of muscles, he was as tall as the two dwarves if Grimleif stood on Koldan’s head, and his head looked all lopsided, larger on one side than the other. His skin was a patchwork of green and blue, the first from his orcish heritage, the second from bruises. Torkil sat down on my bed, his beady eyes staring into nothing. The guards said he was a man of few words, and that he needed a calm environment.

Koldan sensed my discomfort and tried telling Torkil that the bed he had occupied was taken already. Torkil just stared at him, and Sindre whispered that I should move my things to another bed. We all had two blankets, so he was sure someone would share one with me if Torkil never moved. I brought my bowl, mug and spoon and climbed up into the bunk above Sindre’s.

After a few minutes, I realized that I couldn’t easily keep my eyes on Torkil, so I moved to the bunk under Grimleif. I could endure the stench, but Torkil was so scary, even while just sitting there and paying no attention to me, I wanted to cry, but I knew from living on the streets that tears attracted predators.

Koldan tried to engage Torkil in conversation, but he got no response. Eventually, Sindre told him to leave Torkil alone. Koldan apparently had tried to ascertain whether Torkil was dangerous; he couldn’t be very bright.

When the guards knocked and the rest of us lined up at the back of the cell, hands behind our heads, Torkil just sat where he’d first taken root, but the guards didn’t comment on that. They delivered a mug, a bowl, a spoon and two blankets for Torkil, all larger than what the rest of us had received.

First when the guards announced supper, did Torkil move. He grabbed his bowl and mug with an eager smile and rushed to be served through the hatch in the door. I noticed that his portion was twice the size of mine. Torkil sat down on the closest bed, which was Sindre’s, and Grimleif suggested I took the opportunity to retrieve my blankets. I decided to kill two birds with one stone and instead took back my own bunk.

I took one of my blankets and hung it up so Torkil couldn’t see me, but I quickly realized that this way, I couldn’t see him either, so I reached out a foot and pushed the blanket a little to the side, so I could watch what the giant did. After his meal, he resumed his staring match with the void. Recalling that Torkil had made an enormous ruckus as he got up to get his food, I figured that the creaking bed would warn me if he got up in the night. I didn’t feel safe at all, but I couldn’t get through the voyage without sleep. I had to try to get some shut-eye.

Karya and Koldan must have agreed to keep watch during the night, for their guard change woke me. I woke again when Torkil sat up a little later. “What the hell is wrong with you,” came Grimleif’s voice. Torkil kicked out and broke the bottom bunk. “Shut up!” the brute bellowed. Nobody said anything. I stayed as still as the dead, terrified out of my wits that any sound might antagonize Torkil.

Torkil didn’t move for the next couple of hours; he just sat there grumbling. My heart wouldn’t stop racing until he lay down to sleep again, but eventually, I dozed off too.

[coronatiger]

The Goddesses

Feidvang has seven goddesses, who are said to be the daughters of a now absent creator. The seven sisters rule over different aspects of the world, and like any family, they have their friendships and squabbles. In the following list, which should be considered a cycle, the goddesses have most in common with their neighbors and are most antagonistic against those further away. Clerics often mimic the goddesses's rivalries, but they too remember that in the end, the goddesses are sisters, so it seldom goes as far as open conflict.

• Veide, the Queen of the Night, reigns over the wild nature, the darkness and the night. Death, the eternal night, is also within her domain.
• Vite, the Source of Truth, is the ruler of knowledge and magic, and of the element of fire.
• Sinn, the Wise, is the goddess of peace and wisdom, but also of art and all that is beautiful.
• Jevne, the Lawbuilder, takes care of order and justice, and civilization, crafts and commerce.
• Sol, the Mother, is goddess of the sun and all the good its light brings: Crops and fertility, life and health, and the soil where everything grows.
• Fare, the Lady of the Sea, rules over the waters of the world. In her domain are honor and glory, and those who travel, compete or go to war.
• Tur, the Enigmatic, is the goddess of chaos, happenstance and luck. She is also the goddess of love, which cannot be explained, and of the wind that blows where it will.

Mana flows from the goddesses and through Feidvang, where mages and clerics alike can utilize it. Priestly organizations only teach spells that their goddesses approve of.

The Calendar

This campaign began in the summer of year 1089. The years are counted from the fall of Allmark, a powerful empire that ruled over most of Heimsmark for centuries.

The year is divided into 13 months of 4 weeks or 28 days, plus one day that isn't part of any month.

• Solsnu ("sun turn") - The first month of the year, and when the days grow longer and the nights shorter.
• Solglimt ("sun glimmer") - The first spring month.
• Lysvinter ("bright winter") - Despite being in the middle of the spring, northern Heimsmark often sees snowfall well into this month.
• Løvsprett ("budding of leaves") - The month when the world truly begins to turn green.
• Forsommer ("early summer") - The first summer month.
• Blomsterflor ("floral bloom") - When all the flowers are blooming.
• Høylys ("high light") - The brightest month of the year.
• Sensommer ("late summer") - The last summer month.
• Avling ("harvest") - Traditionally the month when most of the yields of the land are harvested.
• Senhøst ("late autumn") - Actually, the middle autumn month.
• Løvfall ("fall of leaves") - The month when most trees shed their leaves.
• Snøfall ("snowfall") - The month when the first snows are expected.
• Mørketid ("dark time") - The second winter month, and the last month of the year.
• Høymørke ("high dark") - The single day at the end of the year that is part of no month or week.

The week has 7 days, each of which is named after a goddess. To maximize harmony in the calendar, each goddess's day is placed between the days of her most favored sisters:

• Soledag ("Sol's day")
• Faredag ("Fare's day")
• Turedag ("Tur's day")
• Veidedag ("Veide's day")
• Vitedag ("Vite's day")
• Sinnedag ("Sinn's day")
• Jevnedag ("Jevne's day")

Since each moth has exactly four weeks (4x7=28) and Høymørke isn't considered a week day, each day of each month falls on the same weekday every year, so for example, the 1st of any month will always be on a Soledag, while the last day of the month will always be on a Jevnedag.

[coronatiger]

2. Trembling into a Routine

4th of Høylys

The guards knocked so softly on the door this morning that it was the stirring of my cellmates that woke me. Grimleif had a new odor today. I didn’t think I’d ever smelled anything quite like it before; it was a sour tang that made me think of metals. It made my nostrils itch most unpleasantly.

Torkil bounced up when breakfast was served, and I noted that he didn’t have to pay for it. The rest of us had to dish out a coupon if we wanted to eat. The guards came back with a second serving fifteen minutes later, but only Grimleif still had a coupon and he was full. I wouldn’t have minded a little more stew, but I could wait until evening. I had gone longer than that without food before.

After the guards were gone again, Karya told us she owned two knives that had been confiscated, and she wanted them back. She described the knives, which sounded unlike any knives I’d ever seen, and the female guard who had taken them. Karya wanted our help to retrieve her knives before we reached our destination. Koldan said we would make it happen, but I thought it would be difficult. It would also be against the rules for Karya to possess weapons. I could help by keeping my eyes peeled for the guard, but I wasn’t going to break the rules.

The guards who came to escort us up for work left Torkil behind. When we got up on deck, the coastline that we had followed on the left side of the ship was nowhere to be seen anymore, but something poked up over the horizon. Mountains? Islands? I didn’t know.

Our group was the last to get in line before Molle’s tent, giving me ample time to look around for the guard Karya had described, but I didn’t see her. When it was our turn to choose jobs, several were filled up already, peeling potatoes among them. Grimleif offered to brew beer again, but he was refused, so he joined me in peeling hemp. Sindre was allowed to keep telling stories, while Koldan would wash the deck and Karya was set to wash clothes. It was a fine day, so we all were directed towards stations on the main deck.

This hemp was some kind of straw that had valuable fibers under a hard, outer shell. We were told to peel away the outer layer to get to the core. The work was boring, but I didn’t notice because of the big, scary woman that sat beside me. She had a scar over her eye that contorted her face. At first, I didn’t think she paid much attention to me, but after a while, I started noticing her throwing glances my way. I was trembling by the time the guards took us back to Molle for payment and then down to our cell. I earned two coupons despite practically doing no work during the latest half of the shift. The guards had allowed some of the prisoners to loiter on deck without doing any work, and this didn’t make me any more comfortable.

I hid in my corner until the guards came with the things we needed for washing, and I had calmed down a little by then. I helped hang up a blanket for privacy, and I offered to do the dishes again.

After the guards had fetched the bucket and rags, Sindre took off his shirt and tied it into a ball. He tossed it to Grimleif, who hurled it at me, probably as hard as he could. I caught the ball without thinking. What had I done to him? I was so distraught I threw the ball back at him without considering the consequences. Grimleif completely fumbled the catch, and subsequently forgot about tormenting me. He threw the shirt ball carefully towards Torkil, who joined in the game, passing the ball to Koldan.

We played for a while, and then I retreated to my corner again, carefully watching the others for threatening moves. After a couple of hours, it appeared that we stopped, having probably reached a harbor. If this was where we were to debark, we weren’t told. Instead, I thought I could hear someone bellowing the same tirade that we were served when we first came on board the Southern Wind. I hoped we wouldn’t have more cellmates.

The guards came with supper only, and I was relieved. I quickly finished my meal and stacked up my bowl, cup and spoon in the corner of my bed, and then I waited for Torkil to go to sleep. It took a while.


5th of Høylys

I was surprised to find that I had slept well. I usually have trouble sleeping in unfamiliar places, and especially when there are scary people around. I ventured a tiny smile at Grimleif before the rank scent of old sweat punched me in the nose. I spent both my coupons at breakfast, buying an extra portion, but nobody else did, and that made me feel self-conscious. Nobody tried to take my food; maybe the fact that nobody had bullied me out of my coupons should have been a sign. I don’t trust easily, but I reckoned I could have been put in a cell with far worse people than those I saw before me.

Today, we were first in line for work, and Molle wasn’t even ready to begin handing out jobs when we got there. Someone further back in the line began to scuffle, but the guards were on them before punches were thrown. I recognized one of the ruffians from Rødvik. He was with the Honorables, and he had acted as bodyguard to one of his superiors when they came to talk to the leaders of the Gray Cat Crew. I only saw him the once, and I didn’t know his name.

After the guards were satisfied that everyone would behave themselves, Molle asked for our preferences. Sindre wanted to tell stories again, but he must have run out of good ones yesterday, for Molle set him to scrub the decks. The rest of us volunteered for kitchen duty.

Four other prisoners drifted in to the kitchen after our group. I knew one to be a cellmate of the Honorable, and he clearly was a member himself. An older man with thinning hair and no longer a full set of teeth, he cozied up to Koldan and tried to recruit him.

Koldan indicated that he might be interested if the Honorables would help him get rid of “Rabota.” Like me, the old-timer had no idea who that was, but Koldan went on to describe Torkil. I found it odd that Koldan would give another name to our huge cellmate, and also that Koldan was threatened by him. To my recollection, Torkil hadn’t done anything to Koldan except staring through him. I know I would find that disconcerting, but Koldan looked like a tough guy. Maybe he found Torkil’s immense size threatening.

The old guy wanted Koldan to swear allegiance to the Honorables, and he wanted him to convince the rest of us too. Our initiation task would be to come up with a plan for getting rid of Torkil and then to execute the plan, which I found ridiculous considering that Koldan’s reason for joining would be to get someone else to deal with Torkil, although the old man intimated that he might contribute with useful resources.

The cook berated Grimleif for his smell and for cutting up all his potatoes into thin slices. Grimleif said he wanted to brew spirits with the potatoes, but that didn’t please the cook one bit. Grimleif was banned from the kitchen. He further antagonized the cook when he tried to take potatoes with him to brew in our cell. Obviously, Molle didn’t present him with any coupons, which Grimleif loudly protested was a scandal. When we returned to our cell, I gave him one, for I had received two. Grimleif thanked me and said it was kind of me to share. Those words seemed quite out of character for the surly dwarf, but I could only hope he was being sincere. I couldn’t see myself becoming friends with any of my cellmates, but this could be the beginning of something. Maybe I could survive my punishment unmaimed and unmolested.