The Rune Stone

River

The three men started again just as the day crept up. Not that most of the Company were eager to hurry northwards: they were content that the meeting and confrontation with the mage, still lay some days ahead; As such their guide let the river bear them on at its own pace, neither him nor the rest having any desire to hasten towards the perils that lay beyond, of which there were many as he made sure to warn them. First, at a certain point in their journey the would have dissembark and carry the boat by hand as the water was too shallow and filled with sharp rocks. Here bandits could lay in way as it was a popular spot to ambush travellers. Next, at the bend in the tributary, where it connects to the Farnfell, which would eventually lead them to the neck, a band of orc river pirates will ask them for a toll, to let them pass onwards, toll which the party convined on paying as long as it got them along faster and easier. Lastly, the ferryman requested that they travel only by day, the night harbouring many ills on the water, and on that he wished to elaborate no further.

Nonetheless they saw no sign of any enemy that day, nor the next. The dull grey hours passed without event, the small boat slowly tugging onwards, barely able to contain and keep the four men, the wolf and their equipment afloat. Unfortunately Torstein's horse had to be left behind and traded by the old barbarian for some extra rations and a cloak made of bear fur as his old one was abandoned at the Ewrorin tavern due to their hasty departure. On the third day of their voyage, the lands changed slowly: the trees thinned and then dissapeared comepletely. On the western bank to their left they saw long hills stretching up and away towards the sky; brown and empty, as if a war had taken place, leaving no living blade of green or yellow upon them. But it was only the first sign of winter coming by. The fields were meerly picked clean of their bounty and now were left barren. Upon the other side, to the east there was a great deal of reeds and swamp land, here the ear still bore green upon its head, but it was still an unpleased, drab shade, ready to may way for winter as well. As they passed this land, just as before, Nicholas gazed from side to side uneasy. Only now, this feeling of danger extended to the rest of the party. The boat-man did not help either, informing the group that soon they will need to disembark and carry the boat upon their shoulders as he warned them the day before their departure. Alas, their only reassurance was they they would stop for the night afterwards, only after they had passed any possible ambush spots. And they did just that, in the next hours the boat was taken out of the water by the men, save for Torstein who only stood back at the insistances of his companions, and carryed forwards. They travelled only briefly afterwards, until the round shape of the sun touched the horizon.

The company had made camp on the barren side of the river, the swamps being far too unsuitable for lodgings, and at the suggestion of the boat-man, they agreed to have a watch posted, just in case an ambush might still be on the way. First was the guide himself who stood up, then in the odd hours of the night he woke Nicholas to take his place. For him the minutes or hours passed slowly,for he couldn't tell which, and nothing happened. The rogue eventually began yielding to the temptation to lie down again when a dark shape, hardly visible, floated close to their docked boat, near the shore. Nicholas could see a long greenish hand as it raised slowly and grabbed on the far side of the boat; two pale lamplike eyes shone coldly as they peered inside, and then they lifted and gazed up at him. They were not more than a few meters away, and Nicholas could hear the soft hisses of intaken breath. He stood up, drawing his bow, and nocking an arrow in its string, before facing the eyes. Immediately their light was shut off. Then there was another, sharper, hiss then a splash, and the dark shape shot away downstream into the night. Varonno stirred in his sleep, turned over, and sitting up. "What is it?" he whispered, deftly creeping towards Nicholas. "Something was skulking by the boat, a weird skinny creature. Or so I think. It fled when I drew my bow." answered the rogue. "Ah." said Varonno "So you know about our little plus one, do you ? He paddled after us ever since we took the boat. He has been lying on a log and paddling with his hands and feet whenever we are not looking. I have tried to catch him once or twice at night; but he is as slippery as a fish. I hoped the voyage would tire him, but he is too clever a sailor for that."  "We will have to try going faster tomorrow. You lie down now, and I will keep watch for what is left of the night. I wish I could lay my hands on the wretch. We might make him useful, have him tell us who he is spying on us for. Probably some band looking for easy pickings I imagine." continued Varonno towards Nicholas.

The rest of the night passed without their visitor showing so much as a shadow again. After that the Company kept a sharp look-out, but they saw no more of him while the rest of the voyage lasted. If he was still following, he was very wary and cunning. And at Varonno’s bidding they paddled now in shifts, now letting the river bear them on its own, and the banks went swiftly by. Soon, into the noon,  the country on either side began to change rapidly. The banks began to rise and grow stony. Soon they were passing through a hilly and rocky land. Behind the ridges stood low crumbling cliffs, and chimneys of grey weathered stone filled with ivy; and beyond these again there rose high ridges crowned pine trees rustling in the wind They were drawing near to the grey hill-country of Zarvost and naturally, their border crossing: The Neck. But before this they had one last hoop to jump through, that of the river pirates.

They all leaned forward straining at the paddles: even Torstein took a hand. Every moment they expected to feel the bite of arrow upon their sides or backs, for the steep hills, but none came and the boat-man was quick to explain aswell. "Worry not friends, they will not fire upon us, not yet. They won't risk us falling in the river and losing whatever coin we carry." he said, between the stokes of his paddle. "We are almost there now. Get yer purse ready, the sooner this is over, the better." And not a moment too soon, upon a bend in the river, right before the meeting point with the Farnfell, layed a bridge of rope at the narrowest point below of which two boats filled with orcs waited patiently. Varonno sat tapping the hilt of his sword as if he were counting on his fingers, while looking up at the bridge and the men on it. "Too many to take on our own. Ten on the bridge alone." he decided in the end, right before their boat was flanked by the other two. Onboard there were many ugly looking pirates: green, brown, yellow and every shade inbetween. They brandished long curved spears, scimitars and roped throwing hooks perfect weapons to take upon any would be escapists. Their leader, an older orc with nicely kept armor and many tattoo's upon his arms, stood up in his boat and spoke up. "Who seeks passage towards the great Farnfel river ?" The boat-man spoke up  "A meager ferry man and his customers. They are not traders mind you. Just workers, looking for a better start northwards." "Workers eh ? A bit too well dressed for that, I reckon. That one got a fancy elven bow. And what kind of worker keeps a dire wolf as a pet, eh ? Nah. I think you lot have some coin on you. So cough it up, before things get ugly. Ten gold dragons a head ought to cover it." the old orc rebuted, brandishing a hook in his hands. The company all frowned but as they had agreed before, they pitched together the summ requested into a leather pouch before trying to hand it over. The leader of the pirates however, was watching them closely, noticed the remaining golden jewlery they had taken from the barrow. "I'll also be taking those, they be looking mighty fine. You don't want to get stingy now..." Torstein's frown deepened ever more. "This is fuckin' horse shite. They are bandits, robbin' everyone that takes this river. They should be dealt with." he said towards his company. "We can take on them all... There's too many. And we are not here for that." answered Varonno. "Maybe not you boy. But I won't stand by idly for them to rob them next ones after us. Too much of that about already." continued the barbarian. "Then what ?" said Varonno "You want to put us all in danger because of something you feel is right. What of the ferry man ? He is no fighter." " I can hold my own... I think. The currents pick up soon, once we get on the Farnfell. If we are fast enough we might--" interjected the boat-man. "Have you all got a death wish on you then ? Nicholas ?!" said Varonno growing increasingly angry. "I mean... I could take out the ones on the bridge. They are the most dangerous." responded Nicholas, much to Torstein's delight. Varonno exhaled, frowning deeply, so close to home, yet so likely to be killed due to foolish bravery. He thought long about it, firstly giving the pirate leader the coinage, in order to keep him busy counting it. Then they made a show of pulling together all the rings, neckleages and jewellery they had. During all this time the ranger pondered, coming to the realization that he needed to do this just as much as the rest. He was part of this world, and if his father had told him anything is that he needs to look out for his people and right now, those on this boat  were his people. And they wanted to fight. And so they did. The gold was handed to Torstein, who deftly approached the leader of the pirates who still held the gold pouch. Then and there the barbarian grabbed the man by his collar before headbutting him, and throwing him into the river with a mighy war cry. What followed was a battle for the ages. Nicholas began to fire upon the orcs on the bridge, a few of them indeed falling down into the water below as the rogue's arrows found their mark but for every of his own a dozen more came raining down towards them. Varonno instructed Shadow to stay down while he joined the ferry man, who was now weilding a paddle as a bat, in fighting the left side boat and those upon it. To their advantage, the pirates were forced to come one at a time, unless they wished to take a bath in the river, like their chieftain did. Torstein was in a maniacal frenzy upon the other boat, rocking and tugging at those upon it, tossing them into the swirling waters with punches and head-butts, their weapons rendered useless in such close quarters. And then. It was over. Nicholas had spent all his arrows upon those on the bridge who now lay at the bottom of the river, while the old barbarian sat victoriously upon an empty pirate boat. Varonno and the boat-man were also fine, only minor scratches present upon them. This did not stop the ranger from behind some-what angry and the risk they took, but the feeling of acomplishing something bigger than himself for once in the last few years felt... nice, so he brought it up no longer.

The boat ride only lasted until the early hours of the evening afterwards, upon the southern shore of the great Farnfell, who must have been two miles wide, the company made camp for the night. The boat man thanked the party for ridding the area of the pirates but this was as far as he would take them, for the Neck laid only an hour or two away eastwards, where the river grows the most narrow. The group thanked the man themselves, for taking them all this way, invinting him to spend the night by their fire, and rejoice in song and drink, at Torstein's suggestion, for it was a day to be merry about indeed.