The Epic Sword Of Cyric

Fourth Of Charassa

Our merry band is heading down-river to Urupa, everyone in a significantly better mood thanks not only to the calm weather but also to the general air of bonhomie – not to mention the booze, though I can’t help but notice the fact that they have no Keesris Wine. As the vessel makes its steady way, I decide to join the other buskers on board in order to lay on some serious entertainment for the evening.
But as always, trouble didn’t take too long to find us. We soon heard that there was a certain troll on board who was pumping everyone else for information about us. Why this interest? Our suspicions were definitely aroused so there was only one thing for it: to take the bull by the horns. Or rather, for our Jarl to do so as I myself didn’t particularly cherish the thought having some savage troll wreak havoc on my delicate physique!
When Jarl approaches him, even going so far as to offer him some drinks as a sign of friendship, the troll repulses all overtures and replies with a surly denial. I decide to tour the vessel and ask some of my newly made acquaintances whether they know anything about this mysterious troll. My enquiries yield no result, however, and we kind of resign ourselves to wait until the troll makes another move.
At a loss how to spend time on this vessel, Ahmok decides to spend some time in meditation while Ivor (son of Gunthar) again attempts to strike up an acquaintance with the mysterious troll. Ivor’s attempts, however, are greeted none too politely and the troll actually tries to intimidate him into moving away from him. Of course, this technique doesn’t work on Ivor, but still we manage to learn nothing new. Informing Omaron about this new development, we are instructed to wait and see what happens.
I go back to my fellow Troubadours, intent on giving a good show since there appears to be nothing more for us to do. Then, midst-ballad, disaster strikes as Vistum goes out on deck and we clearly see the troll following him. This can only spell bad news. Two of my companions follows him to be confronted by a very unusual sight: Vistum is being held up by the neck, with the troll clearly having less than friendly intentions in his regard.
Ahmok seizes the moment and attacks, giving Vistum a chance to crawl away. By now all my companions have joined Ahmok in a free-for-all fight against the troll, except for myself. Someone has to stay with Omaron after all! The troll shows every sign of losing until suddenly he hits on an ingenious plan of escape: throwing his hatchet at the port-hole, he jumps out and – we still don’t know exactly how – manages to land right on the river bank.
Still shaking our heads in disbelief at the troll’s luck, we rush off to Vistum in an attempt to gather more information before it’s too late. But Vistum is not as forthcoming as we would wish him to be and denies all knowledge of why this troll would suddenly attack him.
The rest of the night passes without further incident and soon we spied the lighthouse of Urupa Tovar Spike, thus named because of its everlasting flame. Finally. Destination thus attained, Omaron finds some rooms for the whole group while we stay on dock guarding the goods. Later, we do a bit of city exploring of our own. Urupa is divided into nine areas, according to race, and the way the different civilisations interact make for a fascinating visit. While exploring the Visitors’ Quarters, Jarl manages to find a windling who agrees to deliver a letter to his family for a modest sum. Ahmok and myself go in search of more hearty pleasures, our mouths watering at the thought of the hearty dishes that awaited us. While Elisaar visited the school of adepts, Ivor decided to start work on his brass plate, in the process making the acquaintance of Noral the dwarf weaponsmith.
The following day, Elisaar and myself woke up with one purpose in mind: that finding out more about the magic sword we had found in one of our earlier adventures. Turns out that the best library was in the Obsidiman Building but Elisaar soon secured permission to do some research there. Sure enough, after we open some dusty books, we find out that the sword belonged to a certain Duke Cyric Olatie, a Theran duke. Used in the Orichalcum Wars, it had helped ensure victory for Cyric’s entire battalion, who then changed his coat of arms to that of a Rooster. And thus the legend of the Epic Sword of Cyric was born.