1.1 - Hired Help

Harrowfen. A larger village in the northern part of the Flooded Lands, the buildings there stand on short stilts over the marshy ground, and the paths and roads follow the dry land. I had heard the Ward had put out a call with coin on offer for any that could help their community. As I made my way through the gate and into the settlement proper a noticeboard explained the situation more: Missing wagons, attacked farms, reward offered for aid in defense and retaliation. Exactly my kind of assistance.

I approached the main hall and a man clad in heavier armor stopped me, he seemed to be in charge of organizing this band of misfits. He questioned my purpose and if I could make myself useful, I let my appearance speak for itself. There were a few others there as well that had come for the coin. A scarred spearman with a broken nose that never set right, a lean woman sharpening a short blade, and a pair of rough-looking men in one corner, talking to each other in low voices. No one else showed up that day, and in the evening the man in armor came in to explain the situation. There were others too, but by morning these were all that remained.

Three wagons and two patrols had disappeared along the North Road, but the signs were wrong. The tracks of wagon wheels simply ended, with no sign of where they went. No signs of struggle, no lost cargo. In the morning we would set out to patrol the North Road, search again, and break up whoever was behind these attacks. He left after that, but would be back to take command in the morning.

I talked some with the spearman then, and boasted. Brynn was his name. He seemed a stout companion, someone I wouldn't mind having at my back. Everyone else kept to themselves, uneasy about the uncertain task that lay before us. None were impressed by words alone, but soon enough they would all know what the name Fjarrn Blackmane meant. After eating a dinner of thin stew with tough meat and vegetables, I found a corner to rest in before our task in the morning.