Ghostly appearances

[Storm Munin]

When you have puked your guts out traveling on ship down the Sword Coast the visage of Baldur's Gate are arguably and usually a rather depressing one of fog and rain, as useful as those features may seem for the right and wrong kind of beings.
Still the city did have some merits, a grand library, wizards and plenty of layerings beneath its comfortable surface.

The Sword Coast itself has proven true to its name, I tell you.
Barely half a day staying and my trusty sword were drawn to fend of undead at the cemetary, come nightfall it was yet again drawn to straighten out a holdout of highwaymen.
Contracts from the better citizens of the city in truth seem to abound.

As yet I have met a few mysterious priestessess named Auva, Linetheil and Septemi.
A paladiness named Kara became a trusted companion seeking safety of the halls of the Friendly Arms and the township of Beregost.
If there is such a thing as a barbaric knight I believe I found it when encountering Raganhar the Ravager of Icewind Dale at the Friendly Arms. I could stare at his frame for hours, but of course I do not.
Well I admit to a discreet peek now and then. Not that he is innocent either I tell you, to the point of being vocal about his delight at the most innocent movement of my hips.
Pity he favors the grand axe but that undoubtedly will prove useful.


Monsters natural and unnatural seem to grow out of bedrock and ruin alike.
So far the settled parts of the realm seem rather lacking of wicked humanity, but that could be a ruse necessary due to the proliferance of Orders and general do'gooders in the area.

The exception possibly being that I seem to have been noticed in my travels by some creepy lunatic.
As I was exploring the ruins at the Hilltop in my lonesomeness a score of henchmen jumped me at various positions, from a warm body I secured a letter where the creep lauded my many talents and claimed ownership to the signature of M.
The entire experience was almost as bad as when I encountered the first Otyguh monster of the sewers, glad I hadnt eaten onions that day. The sight of tentacles still make my skin crawl.

[Storm Munin]

Dear Pa.

I may have inattentionally done a holy deed today father.

Outside of the Friendly Arms I encountered Raganhar along with a posse of menfolk hellbent on getting drunk.
Feeling curious I decided to join in, with the drinks and a meal graciously provided by a man named Rolan. Raganhar was soon in good spirits and would not relent on making comments over the topic of my beloved posterior until I donated my potatoes to his plate.
As well at the table were a man clad in dark named Dunkan, Styrbjorn who you may recall I met a week or so ago at the Hilltop and a piouslooking man named Sir Anthem joined in after a few rounds.
Apparently the band with the selfgiven moniker of the Skullcrusher had vanquished a nest of vampires in the woods after some initial confusion.

To the point, after much baiting Raganhar managed to entice Sir Anthem the pious into an arm wrestling contest by the sidetable at the fireplace. Some minor betting were involved before the challenge ensued.
Fully expecting what would befall I took a position by the fireplace across Sir Anthem shoulder, thus squarely in Raganhars view. To our surprise Sir Anthem did actually hold out well initially before the obvious occured and Raganhars bulging arms were starting to win the fight.
Rather decisively as it would seem, well that is until I just happened to give my sore buttock a good thorough rub if brief. Raganhar got as distracted as intended and Sir Anthem won the day while he was focused on me.


No harm, all foul and great fun.

Love Kirsti.

[Storm Munin]

Dear father.

I write to you tonight from the inn of a fortress known as Candlekeep, yeah I know.
The Lord work in mysterious ways, and that is what I wanted to write to you about.

A few days back I was stalking the badlands when I came across the corpse of the poet of Lady's End, Styrbjörn as you may recall?
He had fallen to a band of orgillion on the Uldoon trail just shy of a merry township of kneehighs called Greenest.
Naturally I did not let it slide, no fell deed ever go unpunished, so I took to the shadows and stole the corpse from the orgillion as they were discussing dinner arrangements. Soon enough I used a scroll of raise dead to bring him back in a nearby cave.
Some banter later brought us to agree upon traveling north on the tradeway towards Baldur's Gate. Beyond him almost having me soil my knickers when he transformed into a bear as we were attacked by wyvern the trip was uneventful until we reached the Lionway bridge. Apparently he had some creature called the Great Bear in his ancestry, I didnt ask too many question.

At the bridge there had apparently occured an incident where a gnoll horde had descended on a caravan leaving little behind but burning wagons, pools of blood and a gathering of more or less good adventurers. Styrbjörn felt too exhausted to pursue the matter so I joined a noble Squire named David with a Radiant Heart and a dusky healer lass named Flidais in working our way through the nearby gnoll lair to hopefully find a not yet cooked survivor of the caravan raid.

Opposition was fierce, but we were fiercer and things went fairly well until we reached the bottom floor of the pit of dogheads. Soon upon descent a beholder had gathered a host of gnoll to ambush our party. Flidais and her trusty summon soon fell hard trying to escape the rays of the eyebeast.
Sir David and I braced through the gnolls while taking the beating of said rays to the point of having to regroup briefly around a cave corner before laying our swords into the beholder itself. There were gnolls bodyparts everywhere, rays were streaming at or past us every few seconds but we persisted in rushing the beholder on the dias it had chosen for its last stand.
Sir David cried out to the heavens several times and his sword cut savagely into the fell being, while my trusty sword did what I could manage. Bloodied and near exhaustion I was near my death when Sir David took an unlucky ray straight in the face and was brought low at my side.
Preparing for my doom I called out to our Lord, tossed my shield aside and drew Duskbringer to make my final stand in this realm.
Maybe our Lord intervened because the beholder did act strangely in the final moments of its life giving me the chance to hew it down properly.

One of the worst moments of my life to be told, nor did I look pretty but I was full of Grace if gravely wounded. Another of my scrolls was spent in returning Sir David to my side with a pulse, he healed some of my wounds and we limped back to Flidais side.
Sir David did a thorough search of her mortal coil and pronounced her dead, I admit to a deep sigh as I pulled forth the last scroll of raise dead I had hidden in my bodice to pull Flidais back to life as well.
We took a breather and decided we should tarry no longer if we wanted to find anyone alive down in that hellhole. Flidais offered me her last scroll of raise dead in recompense.
Life being what it is we soon encountered a monstruos troll in a side passage which Duskbringer cleft in twain in a dreamlike stroke of mine that earned praise from Sir David.

Feeling cocky we pushed through the next door hastily and had a barrage of magicke rain down at us from a host of gnoll shadogs. I managed to close the door and we took a few breaths before Sir David nobly volunteered to charge them ahead of us, which he did gloriously.
The fighting was grim and Flidais soon fell to unknown unnatural forces, next thing I remember is waking up as Flidais knelt above me to administer smelling salts. Neither of us sure what had happened we crouched down low and wary until we realized no further threat was coming. We soon found the corpse of Squire David in a doorway surrounded by a magnificent stack of sundered gnoll. Both the sisters of Chance sure was with us on that day.

After I spent our last scroll to bring him back to life, again, we stumbled through the remaining rooms of the lair unopposed. In a holding cell we found Sara and her worse for wear mother chained, I did not ask what had befallen the women but simply poured a vigor potion onto her lips while deftly unlocking her chains with my trusty lockpicks. You know, the pins hidden in the seam of my left boot? Sara's chains would not budge so I told her to look away before I let the lock have it with the pommel of my longsword.
That did the trick and the five of us shared scant words before rushing towards what proved to be a fortuos exit of the acursed place.

Starlight met us near an old campfire the briefest of distance from Candlekeep. To my amazement the behemoth warrior Raganhar was there in his lonesomeness, he must have felt charitable, or something else towards the revealed flesh through the gaps of my torn armor. It was difficult to tell in the dark. By the grace of the Triad he kindly escorted us up the long passageway to Candlekeep itself where a dame named Diane Evon met us by the gate.

She promised Sara and her mother a few days of sanctuary before they had to leave and allowed our worn party to restock our supplies within the walls.
Flidais was inspiring in her good graces and gave the pair five of her lionars to start a new life elsewhere. Meanwhile Sara grew a bit weteyed thinking about her dead pa, so I told her to remember there were always friends in the shadows before giving her my mundane book on alchemical tricks.

Oh I almost forgot, I felt nice and asked dame Evon to pass word to the Order of the Radiant Heart concerning Sir David's acts of valor. It could not hurt could it?


I am running out of paper and the innkeeper is frowning at the state of his inkwell so let me just state that I am hale for now, may we met come Gambit.

All my love, Kirsti.


//Thank you all for the roleplay and a special huzzah to DM Wisp.

[Storm Munin]

Dear Pa.


Writing to you from the seedy inn in a place called Sowbar, the beverages taste like it too.
But that could be due to the painkiller herbs I digested to make the trip back from the ruins of Dragonspear Castle.

On the upside of things my recent excursion unto there with Sir Anthem and the healer Linetheil provided our Lord with an excuse to grace me with a grapewine twig braided into my hair for what godly reason I know not.
More of a mixed blessing is the scar that split my left cheek in half, the result of the bite a of demon's kiss.

Perhaps I should elaborate, hearing of evil descending on caravans from a place called Dragonspear Castle four of us set fourth. The Tormtar Sir Anthem, miss Linetheil, the Gondite miss Charlie Defthands and me.
As we neared the place I suppose Charlie's nerves broke, or her digestive track, I am not sure. No matter, point being she decided to stay behind at a nearby lean to by the ruins.
Accosted by orcs who defended the gate area with gusto we broke their ranks and entered the mishappen place. The builder apparently had the balls to have a statue made with a placard beneath in the reception area to commemorate his castle and himself no doubt.

Anyway, shortly after we began exploring the ground floor I got separated from the others while scouting ahead. Much to my surprise a demonic being suddenly slid past me as I was trying to discern tracks on the dusty floor.
I boldly confronted it and it claimed I could not stop it while professing to be after some quarry on the nether floors. In truth it treated me like I was nothing but a flyspeck on the wall. I tried to trick it back to where it belonged to no avail, nor did holy water do anything to improve the situation. Rather it got the demon aggravated and it summoned a shadow being before having at me with its twin curved knives.
Beleagered by demon and shadow alike I could not prevail, nor hold my ground and as I dodged trying to escape one of its knives scored deep into my face putting me to the floor grieviously wounded. The demon took one look at my mortally wounded coil, sneered and walked away believeing me dying.
Did I ever tell you how much I appreciate the cloak you gave me on my naming day?
Thanks Pa!

So there I was near bleed out and still spasming from the pain exploding through my skull I could still hear the bellow and cusses of orckin as guards appeared to walk the corridors. I let myself slide into the shadows as I lay broken on the floor, it took me minutes to gain the strength to scramble into deeper shadows behind an abandoned set of crates.
I offered silenced prayers of thanks to our Lord for breathing still and it was soon after that my eyes set upon something red stuck between the floor tiles beneath me.
Curiosity got the better of me and I reached out to grab whatever it was. After some brief tugging it turned out to be a nice little shiny ruby easily slipped into my bodice.
Naturally I looked around for more but to no avail, seeing it as a sign of favor I swore to seek vengeance upon the fell beings of shadow.
To my surprise I suddenly felt a tug at my hair and as my heart was pounded as I frantically looked for the cause I realized there was a twig of grapewine braided into my ponytail!
I can swear there were no other discernable being in the chamber at the time.
A gift from the Lord himself it must be, a sign, a beacon? I know not, nor should I?

Long story short I took to the shadows and fled the ruins as soon as I had the strength, fighting the orcen only when there was no other alternative. Of my companions there were no sign nor sound, thus I braved the wilderness alone to this lovely hamlet of Sowbar.

Now I intend to get seriously drunk and bathed in my humbleness.
Lets hope the scaring does not take too badly, there are no clergy I trust around to have it gone.

Hope your travels fare better.

Kisses Kirsti.


//Huzzah to DM Soulcatcher.