Hallo and welcome back to the misadventures of our elastic duo. In the ninth part of my solo campaign, we find ourselves back on the Salt Route leaving Moleryn and heading towards Tashal in the Kingdom of Kaldor.
With the addition of Moire as a main protagonist, I have a much easier and relaxed time when it comes to survival and tracking … and on a sidenote: Essryd has never eaten better in the last months since Moire cares for the cooking.
With their bellies full and in good spirit … let’s see what happens next.
Scene #27 – Of slavers and barbarians …
18 Kelén 720 TR
Navigating the wilderness with the aid of caravan camps along the Salt Route, Essryd and Moire reach Taztos, seeking respite and restocked provisions. However, fortune is not on their side as the local inn overflows with travelers, leaving them relegated to less than ideal lodgings in the stables. The subpar meal at the establishment fails to revive their spirits, marking a less refreshing interlude in an otherwise determined journey.
20 Kelén 720 TR
By dusk near the Konik River, the stillness is pierced by suspicious sounds from the brush. Essryd draws her sword, issuing a challenge to whoever lurks nearby. Emerging cautiously are members of the Tulwyn tribe, residents of the nearby village Caharyn, accompanied by their leader. Initial tension ebbs as mutual non-hostile intentions become clear.
Essryd extends an offer of warmth and sustenance from their fire. The tribals, initially wary but driven by dire circumstances—having been ravaged by slavers a day prior—eventually accept the gesture, sharing fears for their missing kin. With measured empathy and a sideways glance at Moire’s reaction, Essryd assures vigilance and promises to report any signs of the slavers’ passage. After a brief but poignant exchange, the tribals vanish back into the shadows, leaving Essryd and Moire in contemplative silence, bound by the shared human struggle against predatory forces.
21 Kelén 720 TR
Upon reaching an encampment along the Salt Route by midday, Essryd’s instincts flare as she discerns multiple voices engaged in conversation near a fireside. Signaling Moire to halt and secure their horses discreetly, both women advance on foot, crouching low to minimize detection.
The men discuss recent catches, revealing a wagon with imprisoned tribal women—likely the abductees from Caharyn that Essryd overheard about previously. The urgency of their plight becomes clear as Essryd deduces that reinforcements will soon join these slavers. Whispering swiftly, she and Moire agree on a prompt intervention to liberate the captives before more enemies arrive.
With resolute determination and silent coordination, they prepare for an imminent rescue attempt, knowing each passing moment could tip the scales of their clandestine operation.
In a heartbeat of strategic contemplation, Essryd weighs their options and opts for direct action over stealth in the daylight. Gesturing silently to Moire, she indicates the critical role of her archery skill: a swift strike with her bow to incapacitate at least one slaver before alerting them.
With a nod of understanding, Moire prepares, focusing on the deadly precision needed to alter this perilous standoff in their favor. The plan set, they ready themselves for an ambush.
In an instant, Moire’s arrow finds its deadly mark through the skull of one slaver, toppling him like a felled tree. Panic sets among his companions as they pivot defensively. Seizing the opportune moment, Moire reloads and aims again; this time, her projectile sears through another man’s neck, sending spurts of blood and ending his resistance in swift agony.
The remaining slaver, now fully alert but disoriented by recent calamity, charges towards Essryd and Moire. Essryd’s sword gleams as she braces for the clash. Her movements are fluid, evading the man’s initial swing with a dancer’s grace, though his weapon’s impact still catches her leg bluntly, forcing her to ground in a flash of pain.
Rising through gritted teeth, Essryd deflects another strike with the strength born from necessity. Their combat is ferocious; her agility and Moire’s timely shot—though narrowly missing her comrade—prove decisive. A well-timed thrust by Essryd finds purchase in the slaver’s abdomen, leaving him vulnerable to a final, mortal arrow from Moire.
With the last adversary felled, silence envelops the scene but for their labored breaths. Essryd, steadying herself with her sword’s hilt and a supporting hand on her injured leg, acknowledges Moire’s crucial intervention. In a moment of shared relief and gratitude, she offers thanks—her voice carrying over the field where justice momentarily prevailed against tyranny.
As adrenaline ebbs, they turn towards their grim task: freeing the caged women, offering them hope reborn from the ashes of terror.
Moire rushes to Essryd’s side, providing support as they make a beeline towards the caged women. With a key recovered from one fallen slaver, Moire unlocks the gate, and freed captives spill out into daylight, their relief palpable yet guarded.
Essryd confirms their identities as part of the Tulwyn tribe sought by the rescuers of yesterday’s encounter. Urging swift action for their safety, she directs them off the Salt Route, deep into the dense forest away from prying eyes. She shares the approximate location where the searching party might be found—just a half-day’s walk northwest.
With heartfelt gratitude and newfound hope, the women follow Essryd’s guidance, disappearing into the sanctuary of woodland shadows.
Moire methodically scours the camp for useful supplies, emerging with their horses in tow. Mindful of imminent danger from the remaining slavers, Essryd hastens them onward. They mount and ride, leaving behind a scene of brief but decisive intervention.
Three hours later, as forewarned, they intercept the remaining tribal warriors. Feigning nonchalance, Essryd and Moire exchange friendly greetings before swiftly pressing onward.
Essryd’s cautious optimism prevails; she trusts that their guise of innocent travelers will obfuscate any direct suspicion regarding the fate of their comrades. Nonetheless, prudence dictates distance from potential pursuit. With this in mind, they urge a brisk pace, establishing a prudent buffer between themselves and possible retribution from the surviving slavers.
Scene #28 – Further along the Salt Route into Kaldor
22 Kelén 720 TR
In the early light of dawn, Essryd emerges from their modest canvas shelter, her leg bearing silent testament to the previous days’s tumultuous encounter. The bruise—a vivid reminder of a slaver’s misguided assault—pulses with a dull throb as she gingerly lowers her pants for inspection. Moire, ever observant and practical, offers immediate aid, her intention clear: to procure healing herbs from the surrounding woodland.
With a purposeful stride, Moire vanishes into the dense foliage, leaving Essryd by the remnants of their nighttime fire. Settling herself on a nearby log, Essryd consumes a frugal but nourishing breakfast, her thoughts swirling like a tempestuous sea. The composure with which Moire had dispatched their adversaries baffled and intrigued her; it was an act devoid of hesitation, underscoring a depth of experience that spoke volumes without words.
As minutes stretch to a span, Moire reappears with a bundle of assorted greens, her expertise in herbal lore evident. Kneeling beside Essryd, she deftly crafts a soothing paste from the collected flora. The application is both gentle and efficient, her touch conveying a blend of care and determination. She secures the concoction with a strip of cloth, offering a reassuring pat on Essryd’s uninjured leg.
With the morning’s tasks completed, Essryd and Moire turn to packing their meager encampment with practiced efficiency. Every item finds its place on their horses’ saddles, each movement synchronizing in an unspoken rhythm forged from countless shared journeys.
The fog, a gentle shroud lifting slowly as the day warms, hints at favorable weather. The air carries a promise of mild temperatures—a serendipitous gift for travelers weary and burdened.
25 Kelén 720 TR
Their recent days have indeed seen them making commendable headway through challenging terrain. The burgeoning warmth signals the approaching embrace of summer, each step forward under an increasingly hospitable sun lifting their spirits. Essryd, ever attuned to the intricacies of their route, informs Moire that Trobridge, now a tantalizing milestone, could be within reach by nightfall.
Rumors whispered along the way—specifically from Terba in Kuseme—paint an inviting picture of Trobridge’s renowned inn. This establishment, reputed for its comfort and hospitality, offers more than just respite; it promises the rare luxury of a proper bed after nights spent in the embrace of nature’s less forgiving accommodations. The mere thought of sinking into soft linens, even if temporarily, elicits a shared sense of longing between them.
As they ride on, the promise of Trobridge’s comfort looms large in their thoughts, transforming each stride into a march towards impending solace and the revitalizing rest that awaits.
As they step into the heart of Trobridge’s esteemed inn, the bustling atmosphere reflects the significance of their arrival in a well-trafficked haven. The ostler promptly attends to their weary steeds, ensuring they receive the care and rest they so richly deserve. Essryd and Moire then proceed towards the taproom, where the promise of human comfort contrasts sharply with the natural world outside.
Approaching Kurson Ondailis, the hospitable yet discerning innkeeper, Essryd’s request for accommodation reveals both her urgency and polite deference to their current predicament. Trobridge’s notable influx—stemming from delegations hailing from Tharda and Kaldor—has strained its usual hospitality.
With a practiced eye, Kurson surveys the room where the tables host representatives of Tharda and Kaldor, segregated by a respectful if subtle divide. He pauses, considering their plea, before offering an unconventional yet available solution: a modest alcove furnished with but one bed, concealed only by a curtain.
Essryd’s initial reaction—a hint of aristocratic propriety—quickly yields to pragmatic acquiescence as she appraises Kurson’s unwavering composure. She swiftly recalibrates her stance, emphasizing the exceptional nature of their current need. Their payment settled, they navigate towards the alcove, a temporary haven within the larger tapestry of Trobridge’s nightly life.
Upon situating their belongings in the alcove, Essryd and Moire return to the taproom, drawing instinctively towards two vacant seats situated centrally between the delegations. Kurson’s introduction—highlighting their noble lineage and distant origin—serves both as a courteous gesture and an icebreaker, creating a ripple of curiosity among the patrons.
As they settle into their chairs, Kurson brings forth an array of culinary delights: tender Roasted Grayling and Sautéed Archerfish, luxuriating in a butter sauce enriched with cinnamon, accompanied by zesty Tart Zucchini, its herbal notes enhanced by a hint of peppermint. They wash this feast down with a crisp ale, savoring each moment as a rare indulgence.
Amid the convivial din, Casana Sosaldas—a diplomat from Tharda—piques their interest with a polite inquiry about their provenance. Recognizing her Hârnic accent, Essryd’s reply is measured and gracious, stating they hail from Rethem en route to partake in Kaldor’s celebrated fair.
From across the taproom’s expanse, Sir Rayneld Ynel and Sir Friedlam Dramel—emblems of Kaldor’s official presence—arise to introduce themselves with a courteous bow. Essryd acknowledges their gesture with poised elegance, while Moire’s nod carries a touch of reserved grace.
The air is indeed charged with an undercurrent of formality bordering on cool reserve as introductions are exchanged. Kurson’s slight nervousness becomes palpable; the stakes of hosting such notable dignitaries in potential negotiation—or perhaps discord—are not lost on him or his discerning patrons.
Essryd, ever observant, quickly perceives the common thread uniting both delegations’ presence: a mission likely steeped in mutual interest or shared imperatives.
As the night deepens, Essryd’s acute hearing captures a clandestine exchange between Sir Rayneld Ynel and Sir Friedlam Dramel. Their hushed urgency reveals an imperative: they must secure Kurson’s allegiance before Tharda’s delegation outmaneuvers them. Whispered allusions to the innkeeper’s recently accumulated wealth hint at the stakes of this unspoken contest.
Casana Sosaldas’ watchful gaze, tinged with suspicion, does not go unnoticed by Essryd, who pieces together the larger tableau unfolding within Trobridge’s walls. Realizing the covert negotiations at play, Essryd employs her discernment to navigate this delicate web with subtlety and intent.
Approaching the bar where Kurson converses anxiously with a companion, Essryd’s presence halts his whispered lamentation about thwarted ambitions of knighthood. With a composed request for another ale—extending an implicit invitation to both delegations—she crafts a moment of camaraderie designed to breach the walls of secrecy and foster openness.
Seizing upon her newfound insight, Essryd’s strategic mind races with possibilities: Kurson’s financial promise to either delegation could indeed fortify a nation’s claim over Trobridge—a potential windfall that might better serve their own endeavors than secure an ephemeral title for the innkeeper.
With practiced poise, she approaches Kurson again, her request this time framed as a matter of mutual benefit. By presenting their substantial funds and emphasizing the security concerns of their shared alcove, Essryd appeals to Kurson’s sense of duty and opportunity. The proposition piques his interest; after a moment’s contemplation, he agrees to safeguard their wealth.
As Kurson exits with the money pouch in tow towards an old, neglected building, Essryd shadows him unnoticed, her instincts guiding her like an unseen thread. Observing from the shadows as Kurson secures the funds and returns, she reenters the inn’s warm glow, her mind buzzing with the implications of this discovery.
Returning to Moire, Essryd divulges her nocturnal intentions, outlining the need for a discreet follow-up—a pursuit driven by the potential advantage lying hidden within Trobridge’s forgotten corners.
Scene #29 – The Trobridge Heist
26 Kelén 720 TR
With the cover of night enveloping Trobridge, Essryd slips away from the inn’s warmth, her departure meeting Moire’s silent disapproval but essential for their evolving strategy. Her stealthy exit is a dance through shadows, guided by purpose rather than fear.
Reaching the aged tollhouse by the river, Essryd confirms Kurson’s earlier actions: a secret stash indeed lies hidden below. The trapdoor reveals a descent into what once served as a cellar, now enshrouded in darkness. Armed with a torch, she prepares to light her way only when wholly concealed beneath the earth.
In the flickering glow, Essryd navigates the subterranean passage, her path leading to a chamber where both her pouch and Kurson’s hard-earned coins rest, unguarded yet significant. Her triumphant smile is short-lived; an eerie presence disrupts the silence—a walking skeleton, a remnant of some arcane trap or forgotten guard.
Avoiding its bony grasp with nimble reflexes, Essryd retreats up the stairs, abandoning the torch to obscure her escape. She bursts into the night air, heart pounding not just from fright but the thrill of survival and discovery. Alongside the river’s edge, she seeks a secure hiding place for their combined wealth, a temporary sanctuary until they reclaim it under safer circumstances.
With her senses sharp and mind racing, Essryd settles on a secluded spot, her plans now weaving through the threads of strategy and secrecy as she vows to return with Moire.
In the fresh light of morning, Essryd approaches Kurson with an air of feigned casualty, requesting her money pouch due to their imminent departure from Trobridge. Engaging Casana in amiable conversation while awaiting Moire’s readiness, she projects a picture of innocence and mild inconvenience.
Kurson’s return, however, is marked by palpable agitation—his face flushed with anger as he declares himself robbed, not just of his own funds but also of Essryd’s entrusted wealth. Essryd, an adept at the art of dramatization, responds with a crescendo of lamentation over her lost travel funds, ensuring both delegations are well within earshot.
Her deliberate outcry casts Kurson into a further predicament; the public humiliation amplifying his distress. With measured sorrow and rising indignation, Essryd implies dire reputational consequences for Trobridge Inn—a place no longer seen as secure under its current stewardship. The insinuation lingers: not only were their lodgings insecure with an unprotected alcove but now, financial trust has been shattered.
Essryd’s poignant narrative hangs in the air like a judgment, compelling all present to weigh the implications of such a scandal on Kurson’s enterprise and, by extension, the town’s reputation.
Kurson’s desperation to placate Essryd underscores his realization: his personal fortune has become a mere collateral in comparison to salvaging Trobridge’s standing. His pleas, however, fall on ears intent on departure.
Declaring their immediate exit from this “den of thieves”, Essryd and Moire’s resolute stance draws the attention of Sir Rayneld Ynel and Sir Friedlam Dramel. The Kaldorian knights approach with expressions mingling regret and concern, expressing their inability to offer prompt safe passage towards Tashal due to their own commitments.
In a poignant moment of feigned gratitude, Essryd dries her tears, offering sincere thanks while subtly casting doubt on the broader safety assurances of Kaldor. Her parting words, laden with understated implication, leave an impression designed to linger—an indirect challenge to uphold the values they represent beyond Trobridge’s confines.
Thus, amidst the turmoil and farewells, Essryd and Moire leave with a narrative crafted not just for immediate escape but as a potential leverage in their broader journey.
With their horses secured from Trobridge’s ostler, Essryd leads them towards the hidden stash of their combined wealth. Moire’s tone, sharp with reproach, breaks the silence as she demands an accounting of the previous night’s clandestine venture.
Essryd senses a stern reprimand beneath Moire’s words—a judgment that cuts deeper than mere disapproval. She elucidates her actions: Kurson’s duplicity in playing both nations against each other for personal gain and knighthood, highlighting his unfaithfulness as deserving of correction through their strategic intervention.
In the ensuing journey, Moire’s reserved demeanor speaks volumes; Essryd perceives it not merely as displeasure but a teacherly silence intended to impart wisdom through experience.
As they settle for camp under the evening sky, Essryd acknowledges her transgressions with genuine remorse, recognizing the necessity of shared trust and mutual respect in their partnership.
To be continued …
This time, i tried a new method described in the Mythic Magazine #50 to play pre-made adventure modules where you roll some dice and stitch together parts of the books to generate a scene. I got the d20 version of the Trobridge Inn as a paperback several years ago on a flea market and thought it would be fun to try it out. In good old Essryd fashion, she did completely unpredictable things and everything escalated.
If you know Trobridge Inn, you might know how much money fleet-footed Essryd carried out of the toll house. Let’s say, I reduced it a bit for better handling. The skeleton attack which is part of the dungeon in the adventure module, was a tough decision: She had no weapon, and I had no interest in losing her. So I made a couple of dodge tests and missed one out of five and decided to count that as an escape.
Thank you for your time and attention! I must go!
Sources used:
– HârnMaster Kèthîra (Keléstia Productions Ltd.)
– Kingdom of Kaldor (Columbia Games Inc.)
– Trobridge Inn (Columbia Games Inc.)
– The Adventure Crafter (Word Mill Games)
– Mythic GME 2nd Edition (Word Mill Games)
