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Tuesday, January 8, 2019

Lost Dispatches of Feraso #9 - Hiding in Dolksford

To His Lordship, the Viscount Wilfrick of Verbobonc,

After some crafty maneuvering, and some of the worst rain I have encountered, I made my way into the village of Dolksford.   As a fortified town far off the main trade route, and an inn with a large roaring fire to dry off my soaked bones, I decided to spend some time here incognito.

My penchant for knowledge began to openly conflict with my instinct for self preservation, so I provide you with the report of what I have found.

Dolksford is the capital of the Freiskab, or Free Barony, of Illefarn. To conflict with previous letters, it appears that this dominion, unlike all the jarldoms and warrior enclaves of Wyrmnal, was granted directly by the Jarl of Jarls in Norrvik.  Its status as a Freiskab allows "Baron" Melfarm to avoid the clan-law that is used for resolution throughout the rest of Wyrmnal, including the establishment of debts between other dominions.  Economically, Melfarm is a satellite  of Norrvik, no matter how "free" he claims to be.

Like Ras-Prythax, some of the larger families have been granted an honorary title of Lord, although many of them pretend to exert power they do not effectively have.

Unlike the other towns in Wyrmnal with numerous smaller shrines to the Norse gods, this village has not one, not two, but three operating temples within its walls.  Freya and Thor play prominent parts in the lives of the villagers, although I was comforted to learn of a temple of Akana on the far side of town that is not regularly threatened with pillaging.

Dolksford is situated on the Delimbra River, which empties into a marshy lowland before flowing into the sea.  It is a main trading town along the Mer Nor road that meanders all the way to Markovia.  Not as well-traveled as the Wyrmnal trade route that reaches Verbobonc, upon the discovery that this road has an even worse issue with brigand and illegal toll-takers, I extended my quiet stay.

This has possibly proved my undoing.  After two weeks of residence at the Married Baker Inn, my breakfast of sweet bread was interrupted by the fur-clad, heavily armored Sheren Spearslayer, captain of the freemen's militia.  Apparently, by baronial edict, all able-bodied men staying at least two weeks in the Freiskab must join and train with the Dolksford militia.
Sheren Spearslayer
Realizing this woman was more than capable of violently removing me from town, I swallowed my pride, scanned the common room for inspiration, and formerly introduced myself as Elsderth Greyhawk, retired sellsword and part-time sage.

 After two drills with the militia, I have held my own, although my fortunes seem to be redirected to the local old women for their poultices and other remedies for a beaten and battered body.  Who knew a sharp spear could be used as a bludgeoning and battering weapon, as the bruises on my arms and chest can attest.  Still, I am amazed that my incompetence is glorious compared to some of the long-time local peasants who arrived in the village to train alongside us. 

I was issued  a spear and a leather surcoat with metal studs lining it, as well with the word of warning.  My ability with my largely decorative sword would be tested by the Baron's personal weaponsmaster, Sir Llewellyn Longarm.  Sir Llewellyn is a native of Cymru, and his accent in Trade Prythax is so thick one would think he had had been punched in the head while holding a mouthful of rocks.  If I fail my test, and the ruse is up, I have prepped Mary for a fast getaway, although I know not where I'll go.

But first, I've been alerted to my first official duty as a militiamen.  One of the local lords, Agwain, is late returning from business in Valkurl and some other militia acting as caravan escorts in the opposite direction did not see him either.  By the pleading the Lord's father, and the behest of the Melfarm, we're to wander the road, searching for any traces of this man.

If my limited experience is true, I say we shall either find a body, or the man is still in the arms of a woman, far from the track we search.

Your humble servant,

Elsderth Greyhawk, Sellsword and Sage within Wyrmnalian territory.

DM Notes:  Our retired scribe has developed a bit of a persona, as we ventured down the follow-up to N4 -Treasure Hunt.  It's a bold plan, let's see how this plays out. 

Next: #10 - Thendara Wandsregal

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