Faerun Adventures

 Arian's accounting: After the bodies of the toad followers had been taken care of, things at the Fort settled into a quiet rhythm. The arrival of Thibault’s servants brought with them the ring of hammers and slowly but steadily repairs were being made. They all helped clearing out the rubbish, though Greeba spent much of her time at her makeshift forge. Gorlock’s room was also filled with the sound of snips and infrequent swears as he worked on some jewellery pieces, including a lovely moonstone one for Wisteria. Arian, for her part, spent a part of each day collecting plants to make healing potions and in training Shaggy. He was an apt pupil and had already learned many non-verbal commands—sit, stay, attack, shake paw and her favourite, howl. It was bloodcurdling if you weren’t expecting it. But soon, Eamon returned from his time with the monks and it was time to make their way to Ravensburg and for Thibault to officially align himself with the Duchess in the hopes of making the

An accounting by Arian. Arian took a deep breath and let it out, slowly. She wasn’t sure if this was what Jaroo had sent her for, but she finally felt, for the first time, that some progress had been made. They had set out to do something—and they had done it. Well, at least partly. They had come looking for bandits, not orcs, but certainly they had managed to clean out a nest of proverbial vipers. Fort Skulnar would take some serious cleaning before the stink of its previous inhabitants could be washed away. At least the brutish orcs had left behind a decent amount of supplies: barrels of wine & beer (Greeba had already been eying those, as had Wisteria and Gorlock), boxes of salted meats and fish, even bolts of cloth. They hadn’t even finished exploring yet and there might be more to find.   “Shall we explore the rest?” asked Arian. “Perhaps…together?” Their luck had, until only very recently, been very bad. It seemed prudent to stick together. She had heard too many tales of adv

An Excerpt from Thibault's Diary. We had set our objective.  We had the beginning of an attack plan.  But we had no idea of the forces awaiting us. In the past, such hazardous premises inevitably used to take quite a dramatic turn rather quickly. But not this time. This time, something special happened: With the help of the forces of Good and the newfound bonds between each other, our ragtag group of intrepid adventurers turned into an inexorable evil-slaying phalanx… but I am getting ahead of myself. It all started much earlier, at our favourite watering hole: After some deliberation, we had decided to raid Fort Skulnar. It was actually called the Shadowed Keep by the locals who feared the recent evil emanating from that place. The name itself dates back more than 300 years, to when the men of Raven Rock first built a fort here against demon-following barbarians - the Skull-Nar. Most recently Fort Skulnar was held and rebuilt by the adventurer Valentin Ironwolf and his family, but