Jarl!!!! downtime - Merrox's mission

Jarl Downtime - Merrox's mission
by Jarl Skalder of the cursed Skalders

The road from Travar to Trosk was thankfully bandit free though I admit I had occasional pangs of loneliness. Other than a few odd nights, my companions have always been around and I could sleep reassuringly knowing someone is watching my back - this is no longer the case.

Nearing Trosk, the signs of the curse Merrox mentioned where apparent as soon as I reached the outlying farms, with the occasional stretches of lands parched and desolate. Arriving to the centre of Trosk, the farming community seemed quiet enough - for now. My plan was to mingle around as a dwarven geologist and adventurer of sorts - discovering Barsaive - under the assumes named of Skol.

I went around the few landmarks, stopping at the Temple of Jaspree, where I met quite a few questors - including their leader Norge. Norge immediately befriended me as a fellow Elementalist and set forth to find me decent lodging.

As the days passed into weeks, I continued my investigations - it was pretty obvious that there was no direct clue leading to what was making the land so arid. No recent strange happenings, no pattern in what farms are hit and which aren't, no historical references of this having happened before. I was at a loss. In the meantime Norge was kind enough to help me get to Circle 3, in exchange for helping the community recover as best they could from the effects of the curse afflicting the land. While I did not expect to solve the mission quickly, I must admit that my usual rash adventuring style as well as lack of progress on this mission was slowly getting to my nerves. Eventually I decided to try my luck at the Library.

The first few times at the Library where not fruitful either, and to make matters worse I was rather relying on getting a lead the next time a farm goes cursed. This was not happening though, seemed like my presence here had somehow stopped the curse from spreading... Also at one point, the head questor Norge approached me one night with a very strange personal-crisis problem. He admitted exasperation because of not being able to solve the curse, and also that he believed that the world was not ready to re-accept the Namegiver races on its surface. Worryingly he admitted that sometimes he felt it would be better to go back to the time when the lands had no Namegivers in it. I was shocked to hear of this, and would have taken more serious action, had it not been for the fact that he was always nothing but of great help to me, and he worked in such a stressed atmosphere, and because he quickly went back from his argument when I told him it was folly. During these months I had also moved into an abandoned farmstead to settle down for the long run.

More weeks passed, exasperated I decided to head off for a week of proper adventuring and headed towards the misty swamps to meditate and test my newly acquired skills and talents. This seemed to be quite a good idea, as, on my return, I learned that another farm had been cursed. I decided to check the Library records for clues, and a second clue cropped up - someone was definitely taking books from the Library - not such a difficult task considering the Librarian was a rather simple and neurotic dwarf. I decided to get to the bottom of this while the trail was hot, and headed off towards Travar, following the family that had vacated the cursed farmstead. Arriving in disguise, I quickly found Balrur and the farmer's family and he divulged a name - Anderson. With this new info I headed towards the Travar Library, enlisted a young apprentice to help me in my research and scoured the tomes for Trosk land deeds. What came up, knocked me off my feet.

There, in ink on parchment laid out on a large table in the library was the undeniable proof. Three men where buying up the land, in the name of some little known livery - owned by a certain Norge Skalder. Someone of my own flesh and blood was a Jaspree questor bent on nihilistic destruction and aiding The Hand. Looking back I know realise his intentions in recruiting me in his schemes and all the spying on myself. What a fool I was not to have noticed...

I head back - on double time - to Trosk and went straight to the Library. I decided to try and bluff my way into not knowing of Norge's plans - and at the same time prepare for the worst in case he does not buy it. Norge is not around but he was very anxious to meet me, my cover is definitely blown. I headed off to my homestead and prepared for battle. Sure enough Norge knocked at the door. I open and after beating around the bush for a while he reveals what I had discovered. He is my brother, born from some bastard liaison my father had, and was using the Skalder curse to taint the lands once they pass onto his name. Battle commences. It was a long harsh and brutal fight between elementalists - Norge was of a higher level then I, but I was battle worn and cunning. Flamestrikes, fireballs and ice chains where summoned against each others as each tried to take the upper hand. Finally, after I used my wisp in a jar as a diversion, I gained advantage and knocked him out. But villagers where quickly coming to investigate the burning farm so I made a dash for it, carrying Norge's unconscious body. When I finally reached a secluded place I waited till him to come to and gave him one last chance to redemption. He refused. I had no way out but to kill him, my brother, the same day I learned of his existence.

With blood on my hands I buried Norge hastily, took his possessions and headed secretly towards his living quarters to gather more clues. What came up was distinct proof of all I had suspected in Norge's journals, his involvement with the Hand, his targeting of easy victims so as to buy them off and his using the Skalder curse to his advantage. With Norge dead I finally realise that I managed to at least stop the Curse from spreading, though I cant reverse it as it is still in some Skalder's possession - quite possibly my dad's. Before the situation got any hotter I decided to leg it - Norge was a well standing man of society here and my word against his, after I had killed him, would not have went down well with the Troskians. Also in the journals was a little gem that could help me unravel my own families' curse... Norge had done a lot of research on the Skalder curse matter (for his nefarious plans). Seems like while written notes on the curse do not lead anywhere, up North lives a famous Troubadour by the named of Sharma, who has in her repertoire ballads and songs about the Skalder curse. So once again, I hit the road - on foot this time.

On the road I passed through the village of Lybaden - where a grim vision confronted me. The village was razed to the ground, very recently, literally wiped off the map. In the village centre a pole and attached to the pole the hands of villagers nailed to it. I somehow feel guilt and great anger, this is obviously because they offered us aid in the incident a few months back when we managed to get the 2nd Book of Harrow from the nearby Temple of Twelve. I moved on, North bound. While I was unsure of my next move, my first thought was to go back to my family to confront my father about the origin of Norge and somehow break the curse. The rest of my trip up to Daiche was uneventful, so emboldened I decided to head into Daiche (even though we had been sternly reminded not to), check out the city and meet a female troll questor we had encountered missions ago. During our last adventure, we now had direct proof she was going to be assassinated - better if I told her. The city has descended into even more anarchy and I quickly made my way around, found her and told her everything I knew. She thanked me and bade me farewell. I headed out of Daiche and went towards the Tylons, stopping at small farming communities on the way. It was in one of these stops that my life had to be changed so abruptly.

A year and a few months later...

It was like a small crack in the dam, the water flowing out in a trickle, so the same my memories. The crack widens and the water gushes out with more strength, then the dam breaks.

A year of my life spent with the Sky Raider clan of The Ironmongers.

As the antidote courses through my brain, my memories return, a confused jumble. The door that had been locked was now ajar, and my previous lifetime as Jarl - Elementalist adventurer came back. Slowly and agonizingly the memories overlap and rearrange, as two lifetimes (one long, one just a year's worth) try to fit into a single comprehensible timeline. I am not sure how long I was delirious in this state of duality but once I regained my memories I was now a merger of both, Jarl the Elementalist and Loks the Sky Raider. But let me write this in proper fashion...

As I rested in the stable (payment from of a friendly farmer I had helped with some crops) and an ominous noise made me wake up - a cold shiver running down my spine. No sooner had I stood up and walking slowly towards the door that I heard the first shouts... Without looking I recognize the shadow growing larger and coming swiftly towards the village - the unmistakable print of a huge Sky Raider ship. My body, propelled by the previous experiences with the Raiders, immediately went for the backpack and then out the back door - as soon as I went round a corner I cast Earth Blend, praying the trolls don't see through it. As expected the raiders descending from the Drakkar found little resistance and just took everything they wanted from the village, taking those that could not run fast enough as prisoners. I was expecting a lot more bloodshed, these trolls seemed to be a lot more organized and less blood thirsty than usual. Even more oddly an Elf descends from the ship once the area is secured, followed by a young looking troll, who strangely seemed to be the leader. My knowledge of troll came in handy as I could understand their military-style orders, and the calm discussion the elf and the young Leader where having. The Elf's name - Fadlan and the young troll - Tyrak where definitely the ones in control here. As I stood listening to all this, the trolls where doing final searches and as luck had it the Elf spotted me through my magical shroud...

Stripped of all my valuables and everything else, I find myself hogtied in the bowels of a sky raider ship. A prisoner. When I am dragged back up I am deep in the Tylon mountains in a large sky raider village, there is no mistaking the air and the mountain peaks... how shameful to leave my birth mountains an adventurer and return a prisoner.

To say the truth, I should consider myself lucky. The Ironmongers Sky Raider clan was different from the legends I had heard of Sky Raiders in general. I expected torture and endless toil to the death in some crystal mine. Instead I was treated with relative indifference. There where no barriers around the sky raider village - the biting cold and mountain terrain would take care of any fugitives. I managed to fake my indifference towards the troll language, but Fadlan recognised my elementalist background - this proved to be very unfortunate, as I was now shackled with magical thumb rings that prevented my casting of magic... Distraught my first instinct after not being able to take them off was to chop my thumbs off - luckily I regained my composure as this would have definitely ended my spellcasting days permanently. Broken and distraught my only plan was now to escape.

During the next few weeks I got to learn a lot about the Ironmongers and their hierarchy of power - Tyrak was the son of the chieftain and was being groomed towards leadership. Tyrak's wife - Freyda, and Tyrak's entourage of fierce warriors. After a few weeks (aided by my hidden skill of understanding Troll) I managed to gain some favor and was then given an 'easy' job in the kitchens. Nonetheless my spirit was caged, every time I looked to the horizon, I dreamt of freedom. Within a week working in the kitchens I had planned my first escape. I managed to be on the run for a few days but was recaptured - the sky raiders knew every path out of the mountains, and I had nothing to help me survive, neither proper equipment, nor my magic.

My escape was obviously frowned upon and I was stripped of even the basic privileges of a Newot (what the called the indentured servants like myself are called in the harsh language of this tribe). Undeterred by the beatings, my second escape happened as soon as I regained some strength. This time I was captured even before, and the escape and recapture cycles continued - my bids for freedom where more an anguished flight than a calculated escape. After my third and fourth failed escape and subsequent beatings, I was rendered practically useless and Tyrak would have made a final example of me, had he not seen my hunger for freedom - something the sky raiders valued above all things. Instead, the following night I was forced to drink a concoction Fadlan had made...

That's when Jarl stopped to exist, the memories locked behind an impenetrable door - Jarl only existed in disturbing dreams now. Instead I was now Loks - a recently captured Neuuot who was involved in a horrifying accident in which he lost his memory.

The instinct to escape now gone, I lived a confusing few weeks in the sky raider village, surprising everyone when I could understand them. No longer fettered by my determination to escape and with the useful knowledge of troll, I slowly gained favor with Tyrak. Weeks turned to months, slowly my new life with the sky raiders was the only life I knew... Eventually the day came when Tyrak took me on board his ship, to get a proper taste of Sky Raiding, if I ever was to join his entourage I was to be good on the ship as well obviously. My adventuring instincts soon kicked in, and I made myself useful on the ship - the great ship Karrash-, going on numerous raiding expeditions. Whilst my fighting skills where obviously limited, and my spellcasting skills locked behind the door of my previous life, I still managed somehow to stay alive.

After almost a year of this life, I was still technically a Neuuot but had also became a regular member of Tyrak's household, I was now free to move around and do as I pleased - I even had command over other Newots. I went raiding often and lived through the bad times (like loosing a comrade) and the good times (after some good haul from a raid). My identity as Loks fitted in the rough, honorable and adventurous lifestyle of the raiders. And it would have stayed that way, but the day came when another event would careen me back into my Jarl self. It happened during a usual raid, the weather was unfavorable but the sky raiders laughed as the ship buffeted in the storm, I myself was not feeling too well - some presentment of what was about to happen made my mood foul. Clear of the storm, a dreadful sight before us - a Drakkar of the Bloodlores - the fiercest sky raider tribe in the North - had clearly spotted us and the huge vessels swung round to board us. Their faster and more powerful ship soon reaching the Karrash and we were boarded. Outnumbered, the fight was brutal and deadly. The battle went back and forth as heroic combat changed the ebb and flow of battle. Trolls died bashed or thrown overboard, falling thousands of feet to their death on the craggy mountains. Soon the attackers were pushing us back and I found myself behind the last remaining of the clan - Tyrak and a few of his fiercest warriors, fending off blows as the attackers pressed on. At one point Tyrak, lost in combat frenzy, failed to recognise imminent danger from a side attack - without thinking I threw myself forward and deflected the blow - and was knocked unconscious and almost killed in the process.

When I woke up, my head was bandaged and I was in a bed. I breathed I sigh of relief as i recognised the familiar surroundings of Tyrak's manor. When i managed to fully come to, Tyrak visited me, together with the remaining of the entourage. In brief I was told that my heroic action had somehow been the turning point in the battle, having been spared the deadly blow Tyrak managed to kill the opposing ship chieftain and soon the battle turned to the Ironmongers favor and consequent victory and capture of the Bloodlores ship - the Skagerrak. In a quite touching ceremony, Tyrak spoke of my bravery and he offered me my freedom back. I was now a Sky Raider true and true and with my new found freedom, I was now told the story of how my memory was erased. This obviously tarnished the celebration of my officially becoming a Sky Raider as now I longed to find out what kind of dwarf I was... When I was told of my thirst for freedom, and my past life as elementalist and where I was captured - I asked that my memory be given back to me. Tyrak consented. Fadlan started the complicated process of brewing the dispelling potion - during which time I was asked a few times to rethink my decision and continue with my new life as a free Sky Raider, a life which I had to admit, I had learnt to love and enjoy. But there was no going back in my mind, when the potion was finally brewed, I retired to my room and drank it.

The memories came flooding back and as I said before, it took a few more days for everything to finally make sense. I was immediately assaulted by a huge sense of urgency to return to Black Rock, doubtlessly Merrox had tried in vain to contact Jarl over the months. I packed my bags, and the wonderful gifts I was awarded as loot and as Sky Raider (Circle 1) and hitched my last ride on the ship and bade my final farewells to my new found allies. Encumbered by my Crystal Ringlet mail armor and Crystal raider shield and my Crystal threaded throwing axe as well as all my previous gear - including my precious wisp and Norge's magical staff, spellbook and journal. I traveled as quickly as I could back to Black Rock, so much so I barely remember the journey from the Tylon's to the Desert. I even had to stop my quest to find Sharma the Troubadour, or finish my mission for that matter. When I finally arrived I was in for a huge surprise...

Inside Ivor had definitely gotten to work, the Forge was a hive of activity and Ivor and allies had diligently built a great training and armoring centre. I told them my story...
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