The Wanderings of Windfeather

A large leather bound book


This book bears the title “The Wanderings Of Windfeather” and a crude drawing of its protagonist surrounded by buxom women and the bodies of dead demons on the cover.


Belongs to: Meliantan Daheriel

Though I came to this place to escape the unjust persecution perpetrated on me by greedy money lenders, I sometimes wonder if I made the correct decision. It might have been better, indeed, to be murdered by one of the strong-arms than to be in this place of austere misery. The plague of refugees has choked Cosolen, filling its streets with rubbish and staining the seaside with their filthy, diseased bodies.

There was a break in the tedious monotony today: an unscheduled assembly was called, disturbing my mid-morning, pre-afternoon, post-breakfast nap.

The Headmaster appeared with several clerics, that prig Welitryn among them, walking with difficulty because of the enormous stick that has been firmly wedged up his backside. Glandal blathered on for a while about the commoners and refugees suffering from, I think, being poor. He then asked for volunteers, which I knew meant that it was time for me to take my leave from the assembly hall. On the way out the door, somebody in the crowd mentioned that it might be profitable, so I paused momentarily in my escape to see if there was any truth to that. The gods know I need the funds.

Glandal went on to mention three challenges, which would help them to choose the team who would be allowed to volunteer. I found the whole thing amusing really.

I was grouped with six other individuals, none of which were terribly impressive. Our group’s patron ended up being Zelaena Onaeriel, who possesses …assets… that are impressive.

We were told to go about the rest of our day, and to return the next day for the first challenge.

I returned to my nap, which im sorry to say ran over, since it had started late.

I was rudely awoken from my well-deserved rest by the creepy little halfling with the hair, who tricked me into getting up much earlier than any civilized person normally would.

When we arrived at the first of these inane challenges, we were presented with a basin, surrounded by tankards and an overly-drawn out tale of murder, which ended up being a drawn-out logic puzzle.

Upon solving the puzzle, mostly due to my exemplary leadership, we are rewarded with a key, with no immediate door to unlock. After our exceptionally unhelpful patron refused to answer our questions concerning the key, we wandered about aimlessly, trying to figure out where the next challenge was.

Eventually we were led to a random door inside a dormitory, where I was suddenly and without warning unfairly petrified by evil, infernal magics. Clearly I am targeted by the masters of these ridiculous challenges because of my immense intellect and fine features. The faculty here are all jealous of me. I have always known it.

After we succeeded in entering the room after no little trouble (likely due to my inability to provide my wisdom to the group while petrified) we find a student within, beaten and tied. He tells us a tale of the abduction of his roommate, leading off to the training yards.

At the training yard, we are led to “The Fort,” A ridiculous edifice built to give the brainless, musclebound idiots who train here a sense of home.

Apparently the next part of this ridiculous charade is a test to rescue a student from within the fortress. Growing irritated with this constant activity and lack of significant reward or nap time, I take this opportunity to travel into the city that surrounds the academy and I report to the city guard that a madman has taken a student captive within the academy. Assured that they will shortly arrive, I return to the academy where I am able to fit in a well-deserved rest.

Sadly, the master of the academy intercepted the guards before they could do their just and noble work. The headmaster’s jealousy of my skills knows no bounds, and he will do anything he can to keep me from success.

After my unfair persecution by the headmaster, I choose to wait until the rest of the group attack. After they have the fort defender’s attention firmly, I steal all of the wands on the nearby weapon table and head towards the fort. I shall direct the battle from the rear, where my tactical genius will surely turn the tides of war.

The captain of the defenders challenges me, his massive form clad in magical armor, and his longsword glowing with vile magicks. It was an epic battle, but my powerful magic skills prevail, and he falls with a howl of demonic fear. His necromantic follower rushed to heal him, drawing on the power of the empty void, calling forth evil blood magic to raise his master, but I silenced him as well with a blast of magical energy, ending his reign of terror.

In a lavish ceremony celebrating my victory, I take center stage, and bask in the glow of admiration from the students and faculty, except the headmaster, who’s eyes burn with envy at my ability to overcome his unfair competition. Afterwards, I am to be introduced to the prince, who will surely be impressed with my power and style.

Sadly, it appears that my victory only means more labors, as the prince has given the group a new commission. I find that I do not regret the job, since many of the taverns here have colluded with each other in denying me credit on my obviously good word. Perhaps a shift to more pleasant surroundings is needed. A career as a royal investigator likely has some kind of reward attached.

Finally we leave the town, only to be forced to travel through some kind of fetid hell-pit filled with the despairing filthy masses of refugees. I was very nearly overcome by the horrific stench of their unwashed peasant bodies.

We are set upon by great filthy brutes who attempt to steal our supplies, but I deal with them with a show of my immense magical power.

After making camp tonight, I was disturbed by one of the others on watch, waking us up because he spotted some figures coming towards us on the road. The short one with the riding dog goes to see who they are, and I have faith in his abilities so I go back to sleep.

Sadly, my trust is misplaced, and I am forced to rouse and deal with the brigands who attack us on third watch. My sleep is interrupted, and I am too exhausted to cast spells the next day. I hope we are not attacked again, for without my magic, we are defenseless.

Travel resumes. We have two prisoners and a man who has apparently decided to join us. The loud one mentioned how well my “memory wipe” worked, and I nodded though I have no idea of what he speaks. Perhaps there is another spellcaster within the group. Or perhaps he is crazy. Bards are known to smoke the numbweed.

Today we came across a large force of men on the road, which turns out to be a merchant caravan. They report having been attacked by orcs, so we spend the night in their company. They are grateful for the help of our healer, and offer to pay for his services. Knowing that Maldus wouldn’t accept the money due to his faith, and knowing that the captain of the mercenaries would feel better knowing honor was satisfied, I accept the coin on Maldus’s behalf without telling him. Everyone wins. That’s what I do, I solve problems.

We arrive at Ldamven, and stay at an inn called the “Silver Pony.” The inn is adequate, especially after the nights of sleeping in a tent.

Ahh, finally, I am able to enjoy my sleep. Also, I have missed my post-sleep pre-breakfast nap while on the trail.

Before I am able to rest, however, the others hear of a local ruin and an ogre who is possibly causing disappearances. We manage to take down the beast, mostly due to my impressive leadership and powerful magic spells. The paladin wants to keep the thing alive for some reason. I believe his armor might be cutting off blood flow to his brain, but it is not my concern.

We find a small hole leading down to the basement of these ruins, but only one of us, the halfling, is small enough to enter. Seeing that I can do no good here, I choose to write in this log, and take a nap to recover from the intense writing. I assume somebody will wake me up when its time for dinner.

The others have begun excavating the ruin. I decided my strength would best be conserved and return to the inn.

The others arrive some time in the deep of night and awaken me from a comfortable sleep to inform me they have located a magical object. Specifically its a crystal ball. There appears to be some sort of spirit or spectral entity attached to the orb, and the paladin will not let me examine it closely. Again I am thwarted by the great lummox. Soon I will be forced to take steps if he does not become more reasonable.

Today the fools that I am traveling with finally bring the crystal ball back to me to be identified. As always, so much time would be saved if everyone just listened to me and did what I told them to do in the first place.

I peel back the secrets of the crystal ball like the skin of an exceptionally easy-to-peel onion. Apparently the artifact is intelligent, and projects a personality, this “Dokari.” It has its own goals, which are not incompatible with mine. I agree to assist the ball in its goals if it agrees to assist me with mine.

We reach an understanding.

We continue our travels. The next town on our journey is Ewden, a fishing village by all reports. To say that I am less-than-excited is the understatement of the month. The first thing that greats us is the stench, an odious miasma of rotting fish and what I can only assume is piles of dead bodies left out in the sun.

I hope our stay here will be brief, because I don’t know if I will be able to get this smell out of my silks.

The inn is only a common room, which is entirely unacceptable. My suggestion that we push on though the night to a more civilized town is met with derision.

The next day the paladin goes to speak to the local reeve. He returns some time later, with the sad news that we must remain in this hovel for another day at least, as we discover why the quota of food delivered to the capital is not being met. I go with him as he goes to talk to the people and the bailiff, in the hope that I can assist and thereby get out of here as soon as possible.

As it happens, the reeve and his son appear to be mistreating the peasants and might possibly be corrupt entire. We visit the local lordling and the knight protector, and explain to them about the conditions in the town. Sadly, this takes longer than it should. Once again, everything would be far more efficient if people just did what I told them to. Perhaps I should begin researching a spell of that nature.

Along the road today we came upon an overturned wagon, and some brigands chasing a woman through the nearby forest. I dealt with them, with some help from the others, I suppose.

I pray for an inn.

I am forced to share a room at the inn with Roth. I am not pleased.

I am awoken in the morning by Brendolm. Apparently a farmer has been attacked here at Lnonven by some sort of creature. I express how unfortunate that is for the farmer, but apparently what Brendolm means is that we have to go do something about it.

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The Wanderings of Windfeather

DANgerous Kalamar 4 GTB