It’s said all adventurers should keep a journal to inform future generations of their exploits. Less optimistic souls say adventurers should keep a journal to help identify their remains.
Mercenaries aren’t adventurers technically, but enough has happened lately that a journal seems the only appropriate response. But… where to start?
My work in the Regal Gnome will now be supplemented by work for the Delvers. It promises to make me a bit more money than I currently do, albeit by gambling with my life. Good thing I like to gamble.
Wait, I should probably back up even further, and explain about the dragon.
Someone found an unexpected lead on a run of missing children. They’d gone missing one at a time for a few weeks now, and when tracks were found the Delvers decided not to wait, rounding up anyone they could find on short notice who could wield a sword or (in my case) shoot a bow.
For something the guard couldn’t solve for weeks, it was surprisingly straight-forward: A cult of Kobolds worshipping dragons without their permission, making sacrifices in front of nothing else but the obelisk of the dragons itself. We rushed in, killed many, captured more, and rescued children, but that latent schoolboy in me couldn’t help but take notice. THE obelisk, here? Kobolds praying to Tetri, of all people? Every Windswallow knows those stories, and on my first job as a Delver, here they were right in front of me.
I had to touch it.
Writing rushed up the stone at my touch- a history of the dragons if I recall, although I couldn’t read it. When my hand left the stone, I blacked out, only to reawaken to find myself facing a solar dragon, in what I must assume was a mindscape. She was just as confused as I was, but she was still very polite. She said she’d ask Nadab (another name I recognize!) about it. Her name was Cera, and I have a standing invitation to visit her at her cave, which I will definitely take her up on. Dangerous? Yes, but again I’m a gambler. I can’t miss the opportunity.
Our next job? Battling Hobgoblins in Greenwood. On the way there we met the Lady Cantor after accidentally stealing her ring (strange turn of events, that) and were provided a house from her. After that, it turned out one of our group knew the Dryad Ngaio, who was in trouble. We destroyed the invaders to her grove, reported numbers back to the guard captain, and are now waiting for the next contract to arrive to flush out the rest of the invaders.
Contacts to maintain: Big and Scratch, some tunnel runners who know their business. The Lady Cantor and her son: old family acquaintances with influence. Ngaio and Soft Paw, the Dryad and her half-elven companion. That one should be easy, since she asked me to return to her grove this evening. It’s a long walk, but she said it was important. I wonder what it’s about?