Session 27 - Chapter 4 - New Skin and Old Acquaintances

Hello & Welcome!

Chard looked at his new reflection in the river. It was unfamiliar, yet, he felt himself. 

He took the clothing that Zima offered him, a wry smile crossing her lips. She was dressed in the form fitting attire of someone well to do. She watched while Chard dressed.

When he finished, she asked, "So, Chard Morthos, what do you make of this new form Bel has gifted you with?" She spoke common, but her accent was not of the region. Or any region for that matter. Chard thought her accent must not even be from this Plane. He couldn't quite describe it really, her accent was almost, ashen.

Before answering, he inspected his arms and legs, wearing his new armour.  He gave a few test twists and bends and jumps to try out this new body of his. He thought back to the wagon masters who tested the wagons by kicking the wheels to make sure they were sturdy. He supposed he was doing the same.

After a moment, he replied to Zima, "Yes, thank you Mistress Zima, this form will work well. Please tell my Lord Patron Bel that I am pleased." 

"Good. You can show Lord Bel how pleased you are by sending him Souls as he has commanded you, yes?" 

"Yes, I shall do as per the the conditions of the Pact." 

"Good, good, yes. Your friends are preparing to leave. You will reconnect with them, yes?" She pointed towards where the wagons were parked.

"Yes, of course, but I need to work out a plan. I can't just go up to them and say 'hello, sorry for being late.' And besides, I need to somehow use this gift from Lord Bel to my advantage because the Cultists won't recognise me in this. Will you be joining us on the road as well? Or how will we communicate?"

"No, Chard Morthos. I couldn't imagine anything worse than travelling by foot together with all of those smelly beasts you call horses." She laughed to herself. She must have imagined what that must be like Chard thought. "I will contact you when necessary. You just focus on the conditions of your Pact, yes?"

Smelly beasts Chard thought. Well, yes, horses could have a certain, aroma about them. He breathed deeply, inhaling every scent he could with his new nose. The air was fresh, clean, a dampness in the morning air. He could get the sense of various flowers blooming. He was glad to fill his nostrils with something other than the burnt, acrid, sulphuric scent of where he was. How had not appreciated these smells before? How much time had he spent there?

Chard looked around himself to see if he had any other items or a pack. No, nothing - just his clothing and his armour. It was a fine half-plate. It certainly helped him stand out and it felt strong, sturdy. He would need to rely on it soon he was sure.

He felt his Glaive through the bond. He reached out to get the sense of it, just on the verge of summoning it. He was satisfied that would work when needed. He would keep it hidden for now.

He then turned and headed towards the camp. "Thank you Zima, I will see you soon."

"Not before I see you, Chard Morthos. Remember, we are always watching." She had the wry smile on her lips again and started to laugh slightly. She watched as Chard headed off.

He would need to blend in with the travellers. He saw that there was several more new wagons attached so it would not be unusual for another new traveller to join up with the Caravan. Then he would try to learn what he could.

He was able to spy his old friends still with the wagons they set off with. He was relieved, they were all still safe.

As he entered the area, moving in between the wagon just starting roll forward, he suddenly felt hungry. Quite hungry in fact. He hadn't needed to eat anything while in the Nine Hells. He'll need to work for his food. Chard joined the queue with the last wagon and resumed the journey to Waterdeep.

---

The morning was fresh & crisp, carrying a slight bite that speaks of the coming northern climes. Dafnae, Pipp, and Torsion made the preparations as they did every day. It was routine now. But the routine was updated as of late as they now had to keep a watchful eye on the wagons lets they get into trouble. Trouble was brewing, they could feel it. 

And so they headed out. The stone walls of Daggerford were steadily shrinking in the distance behind them, replaced by the rolling, grass-covered hills of the Trade Way. The caravan quickly settled into its typical chaotic rhythm—a steady chorus of creaking wooden wheels, plodding hooves, and the occasional shout of a merchant urging their draft animals onward.

As they walked alongside their assigned wagon, keeping pace with the steady roll of the convoy, they noticed a figure effortlessly weaving through the bustling travellers to fall into step beside them.

It's a female gnome with sharp, inquisitive dark eyes and dark hair pulled back practically. Her clothes are well-made but dusty from the road, blending in perfectly with the caravan's diverse crowd. She is casually tossing a polished apple from one hand to the other. She looks up at Pipp with a bright, entirely too observant smile.

"Brisk morning for a march, isn't it?" she said, her voice clear and conversational over the din of the wagons. "Much better than the humidity we suffered a tenday ago, though. I'm Jamna, by the way. Jamna Gleamsilver."

Pipp introduced herself, "Yes, we ran into each other yesterday. Nice to see you again. You are joining us for the trip to Waterdeep?"

Jamna replied: "Yes, we were coming up and have connected with your Caravan. I always find the first day out of a town to be the worst. Everyone is hungover, adjusting to the saddles, or realizing what they forgot to pack. Have you noticed the merchant in the purple silk tabard three wagons up? Man's been sweating since sunrise. And those dour guards with the heavy, covered wagons... hardly the chatty sort, are they?"

"Yes, well, not everyone is ready to chat, We got used to that being on the road together as long as we have," Pipp said.

"But you lot... you don't exactly look like standard caravan muscle. Nor do you have the panicked look of merchants whose entire fortunes are tied up in a wagon of spices. How long have you been eating the dust of this caravan? Did you just join us back in Daggerford?"

"Oh no, we've been travelling together since Baldur's Gate. Yes, well, you are right, this is the first time we've been Caravanning. But it was a convenient way to make the journey up to Waterdeep so we signed up. We have business in Waterdeep and will be meeting our friends when we get there.

Jamna chuckled and didn't push hard, simply saying, "Ah, mysterious! The Trade Way is full of people running toward something or running away from something. I respect a closely guarded secret."

She continued: "I'll be honest, I'm glad to be clear of Daggerford. It's a beautiful town, sure, but the air there feels... heavy. Suppose it's hard not to be rigid when you live in the shadow of Sir Isteval. The great Purple Dragon Knight, the Wyrmslayer himself." She takes a bite of her apple. "They say he’s a true hero. But sometimes heroes cast too long a shadow for normal folk to breathe comfortably, don't you think? Did you happen to cross paths with the old knight while we were in town?"

"Yes, a modern day living legend. We happened to cross paths in the Tavern. He is a lovely fellow, very charismatic. And I can easily imagine he was the stuff of legend back in his prime. Now it seems the years, and past injuries, have caught up with him.

Tiefling Lost:

(Verse 1)
The tavern fire is burning low, the ale is turning cold,
I’m reaching for a harmony my heart refuses to hold.
I see you in the corner shadows, where you used to stand,
With your hand upon your hilt, and the red dust on your hand.
The horns that swept like crescent moons, the tail that swept the floor,
Are quiet now, my brother, and they’ll dance for us no more.

(Chorus)
Oh, the iron didn’t break you, and the hellfire didn’t burn,
But you’ve marched into a valley from which no one can return.
So I’ll strike a chord of silver, and I’ll sing a song of gray,
For the fighter born of cinders who has let the light slip away.

(Verse 2)
You used to laugh at every curse, and mock the blood you bled,
A crown of jagged obsidian upon your heavy head.
They saw the mark of shadows, they saw the devil’s grin,
But they never saw the steady heart that beat beneath the skin.
You took the blows intended for the weak and for the small,
The first to charge the darkness, and the last of us to fall.

(Chorus)
Oh, the iron didn’t break you, and the hellfire didn’t burn,
But you’ve marched into a valley from which no one can return.
So I’ll strike a chord of silver, and I’ll sing a song of gray,
For the fighter born of cinders who has let the light slip away.

(Bridge)
The Cleric’s hands were shaking, the diamond turned to dust,
The gods are often silent when we give them all our trust.
Now your blade is on the mantle, and your shield is on the wall,
And the silence in the campsite is the loudest sound of all.

(Guitar/Lute Solo - Slow and Melancholic)

(Outro)
Rest your boots, old soldier, let the heavy armour lie,
There are no more monsters waiting underneath a different sky.
I’ll keep the fire burning, I’ll keep the stories true...
But the music’s out of rhythm, friend, without a beat from you.
Yeah, the music’s out of rhythm... without you.

She was pleased with it, even if it was sad. And the song should be sad. They had lost their strong ally, much, much too soon.

Chard gave them the same Dibse introduction. Dafnae and Torsion were a bit disinterested. But Pipp was this other new character was. Much like Jamna, was he friend or foe. She accepted his story at face value but got the feeling that this wasn't the entire story. 

He asked, "Well, that's a lovely melody. But it is full of sadness. What is it about?" He knew from the lyrics it was about him but he was hoping to learn a bit about them from the question.

Pipp replied, "It is about our brave friend who lost his life so that we may live."

"I see, He must have been a very special companion to you all then. Sorry for your loss."

Dafnae and Torsion both looked up from their reading and cooking to get a measure of this new traveller that was being so inquisitive. They didn't sense any immediate threat, but didn't dismiss him either. The too thought there was something mysterious about this new person.

---

Chard continued down the line, selling ale and eventually took his earnings and what remained back. Satisfied with his work, he was given some dry bread and cheese to have as a meal. Though simple, it was satisfying and one of the best meals he remembers having recently. Actually, he mused to himself, it was this new form's only ever meal. How strange he thought - he was experiencing certain things in this new life for the first time ever, again. 

That evening, Chard slept under the stars. It was cool, still, and comfortable. As he drifted off to sleep, the lyrics and melody of Pipp's song filled his mind. 

---

Chard woke the next morning refreshed. The tune was still in his head. He would whistle it all day. He was curious the night before if he would have those dreams again. He was not sure, but at least last night, he was able to sleep properly. The best night's sleep he's had in a while. Smirking, he thought to himself again, actually, its the first night's sleep he's had in this new form ... How strange!

---

Dafnae, PIpp, and Torsion did the same routine, again, but again with the same sort of watching those that are watching them. 

Travel resumed as normal. 

At the midday break, Pipp thought she would have a chat with her usual gambling buddies to see if anyone had any new information on any of the new travellers. Unfortunately, no, no one had any news. But they did have a new game which Pipp enjoyed, even though she was bested 1 game to 2 out of 3.

The Dibse fellow came again, whistling Pipp's tune. And he asked if there was any food available as he wasn't able to get any work. Torsion couldn't resist a soul in need despite his cantankerous nature, so they shared portions of their meal with him.

Travel continued and Dibse stayed near, sometimes moving ahead, sometimes falling behind. The three of them kept a watchful eye on him but he didn't act in any unusual way, idly chatting from time to time.

Evening came around and again they shared their meal with Dibse. After the meal, Dafnae ran some forms and practice for anyone still interested in training. Dibse joined in and after the lesson he asked Dafnae if she would indulge him in a sparring match. 

Dafnae obliged, tossing him a quarterstaff and then they squared off with each other. They danced the dance, neither one yielding to the other. Dafnae was surprised at Dibse's skill. Chard was of course glad to be interacting with his old friends again.

They went a few rounds and when it was over, Dafnae said to Dibse, "You certain know how to use that. It shows you've had to handle yourself once or twice before."

"Thank you for the practice," Chard replied, "And yes, I've had on one or two occasions before to defend myself."

But as they prepared for the evening sleep, Dibse propped up against one of their wagon wheels for sleep, Pipp couldn't help but feel like his fighting style was very familiar. Very peculiar she thought to herself as she went off to sleep.

---

Travel resumed the next day. This was Day 43 on the road. They were getting close to Waterdeep now.