Reaching the Surface

Continued from Escape from Mimmarudla

Hexes are 6⅔ miles wide.

Yellow = settled lands; dark green = forest; light green = stony tundra; dark grey = mountain

The DM: Steadily, loaded down, the party wends its way to the surface again. You stagger up the back-and-forth stairwell and you stumble along the ledge that follows the underground river. You finally reach the narrow crevice that you bridge yourselves, uneasily carrying your loads across it. You make your way along the passageway until you come to the stone pits where you fought the ticks; and then upwards through the main lair of the froglings, where everything of value has been stripped away. There are no workmen left and it is quiet. Finally, after a long, steady day of work, you see daylight ahead; you climb out into the sun, half-blinded from it; it has been a week since you've felt its rays upon your flesh.

Fjall is there, watching the things you left on the surface and your donkey (or was it a mule). And there is a party of soldiers there as well, lounging about until you emerge. They rise at once, ordering themselves, while a leader takes a step towards the puffing, weary party; the leader is tall, emotionless and clearly a veteran of some war, as he stands as if his hip is troubling him. He says in a gruff, orderly manner, "You are Pandred, Embla and Engelhart, with associates. Is that correct?"

Marcule: (i look to the party waiting for someone to respond)

Engelhart: "It is so. And glad we are to see you too, by God's grace. Who might you be, o captain, that you'd expect or know of our return here?"

The DM: He appears to be concerned with his officialdom. "I am Fenrik Sven Jorgensen." Fenrik is his rank, the lowest rank there is above a man-at-arms. He holds out a small board, the sort used for scratching contracts into the soft-stone surface. "Will you sign this?" Engelhart can read and it says, "Provides One 23rd Share to [your names] in compensation as finder's fee" or words to that intent.

Engelhart: "Well now," I say as I gently motion for the board "I'd need to mull it over with my confederates if you will", I stare into the contract quizzically "just how much are we talking about here, and who mandated it?"

The DM: "I'm not in the way of knowing," Jorgensen says. "Whatever one 23rd part of whatever was stripped of the underground area here. The actual value is waiting for you in Stavanger."

Engelhart: "I'm sorry, Fenrik;" I motion apologetically "This takes us quite by surprise. Might be you're to head back to Stavanger, much like us? We'd like to meet up with someone who can elucidate us as to the provenance of this figure and what value it would entail."

Engelhart: [I'm done probing, I can't properly proceed with a decision unless someone else weighs in]

Marcule: (I step forward reading the paperwork) "I imagine this is a matter of splitting your wealth, do you have any reason to distrust this? As a matter of deliberation would they have reason to combat you on your share?"

The DM: There seems nothing out of the ordinary. Before anyone can transfer money even in the 17th century, someone has to sign for it.

Pandred: I'll give a grumble. "Sign it and let's get our due. They've stripped the very bricks from the place."

Vafrandir: Just checking in -- I have no input on this because the Fenrick is not addressing me.

Pandred: I can't read. I assume that means I can't write, including my name. Should I just put a big X? I'd have been happy to handle it if I believed it was in my power to do so. So, I slap my big X on the clip and we move on.

The DM: Surely you've seen enough examples of a time when people could not read or write, where they were told, "Make your mark." In any case, you were entitled to ask before I had to scold. Moreover, your father was a thief, I believe, so you would have encountered situations where responsibility was assumed for something illegally. Please do not assume that because your character is a fighter, it only knows how to fight. I give you all this background for a reason.

The DM: Does anyone want to physically stop Pandred from signing? No? Good. Jorgensen bows to Pandred, produces a heavy folded paper enclosed with a wax seal and informs you this is your writ; if you'll present it to a lender in Stavanger, you'll be sure to receive your funds.