Category Archives: Lathander

the plot thickens

Posted on by the scribe

18 Eleasias 1373

Who knew, for all his anxiety over issues of high theology, Ash would face his biggest challenge from Uncle Reggie’s rock?

Its been an odd few days. As he vowed to do, Ashton descended back into the dark caverns to retrieve the regalia of Amaunator–a move that will undoubtedly ruffle the high clerics of Lathander. Hedge and Shen also retrieved the body of Zareth, the Shadowvar agent we found beset by the Shadow Death, hoping that he might provide clues that would help us cure Hedge’s brother Pern of the same evil affliction. Tis a very nasty thing, that–a truly horrible way to go.

Thereafter, we took the fateful decision to divide our party: Tip and I returned to Silverymoon (using Tips impressive magicks to take the journey), while the others were to wait for us at The Fork. Depositing them there, we were all attacked by a pair of nasty earthen sharky beasts–Dirtmaws my Dad used to call them, although around here it seems they’re called Bulettes. Fortunately they were slain easily enough, with me adding a skiprock or five into the fray.

In Silverymoon, our tasks went smoothly enough: I sold the few gems we had acquired to Gorran the gnome, and gathered more supplies, while Tip delivered Zareth to the Temple of Lathandar and purchased some much-needed scrolls. I also had an opportunity to meet Tip’s father, a salt-of-the earth farmer whose fields and milking cows are some of the finest I’ve seen in these parts. When Tip retired early to study his spells, his father and I traded many a tale, including a few of young Tip trying transform toadstools into flying sheep. The well-worn halfling expression “as painful as an furry mushroom in your nethers” certainly has a whole new meaning for me now!

We then magicked back to The Fork, where we expected to find our companions comfortably settled into the Wildlands Rest. Instead we found them camped nearby, Ash and Shen bickering–all of them apparent fugitives from the law.

It seems that they had found a Hin skipper in the inn, going by the name “Stubbin the Great” or something of that sort. Hedge had been rightly suspicious of his skill, and had sought to question him closer. However the Hin had proven very suspicious, and had fled to his second-floor room when Uncle Reggie’s name had been brought up. Hedge followed him, and was promptly attacked as he loitered outside the traveller’s room. When our companion finally got the best of the fight, Stubbin fled… only to encounter Shen and Ash coming up the stairs. As the Hin tumbled past the monk, Ash drew the conclusion of evil intent, and incinerated him with a blast from his new mace.

And herein lies the bickering. Ash claims he was justified by the halfling’s behaviour. Shen claims he couldn’t have been certain of this at the time. Hedge is simply glad to be alive, and doubtless now has more regard for Hin blade. The innkeep ejected them all. And now rumours swirl that Ashton, the Lightbringer, is a murderer. I fear that when news gets out of his embrace of Amaunator, his opponents are sure to use it against him.

I did my best to fix some of this, entering the inn in disguise and pulling the stuffelglug scam on the somewhat baffled staff. With this I succeeded in muddying the waters of Stubbin’s “possible” death, and plan to muddy it still more in the days to come. I also managed to retrieve for inspection most of his kit.

And there it was: the rock. The rock. Uncle Reggie’s prized returning skiprock, not seen since his murder. You could have gagged me with a badger.

Stubbin’s unfortunate complete incineration has made it unlikely that he’ll now answer questions on how he got it, and what his connection might be to the foul deed. From what Hedge tells me, he doesn’t seem the assassin sort–but an accomplice he might well be, sent to spy on Uncle Reggie for the real killer, and to stand on guard while the foul deed was done. When time allows, I’ll ask around and find out what I can of him in Waterdeep and elsewhere–for now, I’ll have to content myself with his fiery demise.

For this I’m truly grateful to Hedge and Ash.
That’s one for you, Uncle Reggie.

Ashton’s schism

Posted on by the scribe

16 Eleasias 1373

We hadn’t been long with the butchered remains of our horses when I saw Ashton staring at the wall, clearly lost in thought. I hadn’t thought him all that attached to the horses, or indeed to livestock of any sort, so I asked him what was troubling him.

There followed a long attempt to explain to me the nature of Lathander, his relationship with Amaunator, and the complex theologies of twin natures, Risen Sun Blasphemies, rebirth, and who was who and how and when. It was, I must say, all a bit of how-many-sun-gods-can-dance-on-the-head-of-a-pin to me (or, as my mother likes to say, “more badgers than I care to untangle”), but clearly it deeply concerned my clerical friend and companion.

I’m not sure I could offer him any insight. I’ve always found the Gods and their meddling and demands for worship a little unsettling, although perhaps that’s coming from a society where the Gods are simply gods, respected for their role in safeguarding we Hin but not slavishly followed by right of birth or power or planar origins. I do know this, however. Ashton is a profoundly good man. He has not an ounce of greed for power or wealth, and indeed shuns and even regrets the fame that his prior exploits have brought him. He’s what we used to call “a regular reggie,” a halfling turn-of-phrase that resonates even more now that I know my own Uncle Reggie was a Harper agent that never sought recognition or reward for the good that he undoubtedly did. (Indeed, I’m quite sure that Uncle Reggie would like Ashton Arn, and would invite him down the brew-hall for a pint or six. Whether Ashton could fully tolerate six halfling ales, or Uncle Reggie’s renowned friendships with a variety of female evening social service providers, is another issue. Lucille’s propensity to dress as a nun might well have caused particular problems. But that’s another tale.)

So Ashton’s good heart is good enough for me. If Lathander is Amaunator, or Amaunator is Lathander, or they’re both second cousins of wee Bradbury Bondledooks who sold sheep down Red Rose Lane, I don’t much care. If Ashton thinks that fighting the evil we all face is best served by recovering the regalia of Amaunator, then that’s what we do. If the Church falls upon itself in bitter conflict over this “schism,” it just all shows they have narrower souls than does our Ash.

And so we take this step, and see what becomes of it.