Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Session 8
Freya's Saga

The best thing happened! Spoony was teaching a few of us some of his “bard” songs. Because I’ve been studying in my free time, I was able to understand and follow along. Though, my skills still need a bit of work.

Though, while Spoony was trying to teach us, a woman (I can’t even remember her name) was hanging all over him! Cheap-trash, whore! I was trying to learn! I don’t know how Spoony handles such touchy women.

She really got on my nerves.

Session 7
Freya's Saga

Damn my loose tongue!

They are suspicious of me. I never should have said I came from Greenest! Who comes from Greenest now-a-days! Garghhh!

Session 6
Freya's Saga

The events of the past week have been far reaching. With the three dragon eggs destroyed and a faction of the Cult of the Dragon scattered, I feel that we have prevented some of the destruction that plagued my dreams.

We are now in Elturel and have found the monk, Leosin. Turns out, he is a part of a group of people called The Harpers. Spoony and I have joined their ranks in hopes of quelling the dragon threat. Curie and Healy have joined a group as well. They go by the name, The Order of the Gauntlet. I feel that with our new connections we can really do some good.

Spoony and I have gotten tattoos of The Harpers’ emblem, as they requested. I had the tattooist put it on the front of my right shoulder. It stung worse than a wasp!

The Spirit inside of me is more than just a bear, that much has come to be clear. Though, I feel as if he is hiding himself from me. He feels old, powerful…and unnatural. I wish to know him, since he is now a part of me, and I see no way of removing him. I accept him, together we can prevail and stop those horrible dreams from coming to pass. His rage is my companion and my strength. I wish him to know that this is so. I’ve gotten a second tattoo, a raging bear with spirit markings upon it’s body. It’s placed on the front of my left shoulder so all will know who is on my side.

Session 5
Freya's Saga

It is not the rage that speaks to me. I was wrong…

The Great Bear…how is this possible?

He is old. I hear his whisperers like I hear my own thoughts. He keeps things from me.

When I killed the beast I kept it’s teeth and claws and made my cloak from his hide. Tonight I made a necklace from his claws and his two top fangs. With his bottom fangs I pierced my ears. He is as much a part of me as I am of myself. We are useless apart, but together we are strong.

We leave for the raider camp once again on the ’morrow. But, this time I am bringing an old friend.

Session 4
Freya's Saga

I’m beginning to detest Greenest. The place is filled with the smell of kobolds and heat. And I keep dying, or coming close to dying. After saving the villagers from the Temple of Chauntea, the keep was surrounded. The leader of the raiders, a dragonborne, challenged a warrior from within the ranks to fight him, said he would leave if someone did. If not, he would storm the keep. We all knew the keep could not withstand their numbers.

There is something about those McCureson’s. It’s like bravery is bred into them, or blind stupidity. Either way, Curie volunteered, even after the group said I would stand a better chance. But, I hesitated and Curie did not. She is a true hero. The rage inside me roared, said he would help, told me to stop being a coward. But, a coward I am. I knew I couldn’t win, but the shame of sending a friend to die in my stead was too much. A hero does not let others die for them. “I am the Hero of Spine; I am a Hero of Greenest!” I thought. How could I be if I allowed a friend to do this?

So, I walked out to meet the dragonborne with a shaky axe and knees. I probably looked the fool. I let the rage take me, felt it bubble over and explode. I woke in the keep with the raiders gone. I didn’t beat the dragonborne, but at least my friends are safe.

An Apothecary's Log / 1-2

An apothecary’s log 1

Perhaps someday a bard will find this journal on a skeleton and read the heroic feats within and think, “Wow. She must really have been something. See how she bravely fought to protect her friends! And what fine herbs she collected!”

I honestly don’t really even want to be here. My business was finally starting to do well. But a Mountain McCurseon has a responsibility, papa says. When you get the call, you answer it. I just happened to have gotten mine just as my business was taking off. Rotten timing.

I don’t have a lot of experience in battle. I’ve trained my whole life at my family’s behest, sure. But sending me off to Greenest to locate my cousin the cleric and help him if I could, that was my first duty given by my order. So I’ll find him. I only just hope he’s still alive. Healy is a good sort. We always got on well at reunions.

Ugh, bandits are eyeing my campsite. Apparently they don’t see the giant war hammer and the chainmail. Time to scare them off.

An apothecary’s log 2

Goodness, I haven’t written in this thing since my first night on the road. That is a bit shameful. What would my bard think?

There isn’t much time now. Nursing our wounds after a ruddy awful battle.

But I found Healy. Not dead, fortunately. And now we’re fighting to save this town. Dragons and cults and all manner of nonsense.

Realized something, just now, fresh off battle. Healy and I were in a bad situation. Our enemy bearing down upon us. Both of us had spent nearly all our strength. I’d been scared this whole time, ever since I’d arrived in Greenest and saw what beset it. I’d been scared when I fought my way to the keep. Scared when I helped the clerics and herbalists help the wounded. Scared when I looked under every white sheet.

But then, in that moment, when there was nothing betwixt my kin and his death save for me… this is what they talk about in my family. That duty to protect. To be that last rampart towering over my enemy what seeks harm to my friends.

I still don’t like to fight. But I think I get it now.

I was sent to protect my cousin. By Moradin’s beard, I will. And everyone else who I align myself with. I will be that rampart. And even if I don’t like it, I have a duty to bring down Moradin’s mighty hammer in the face of evil.

I suppose that is what it means to be a paladin, a Mountain McCureson.

Sessions 2-3: Greenest in Flames
Freya's Saga

Greenest, this place, is not what I expected. Not that I expected much to begin with. I wanted answers, and with each answer is a new question. I feel like I stumbled upon something big, bigger than Greenest. It’s an echo in my mind and it gnaws at me. The cultists talk of a Dragon Queen, and they are her cult. None of it makes much sense.

Since I killed the Great Bear, I’ve changed. And it’s not just the voice and the dreams anymore. There is something here, inside me. I feel it now. The rage inside is taking shape, forming into something. I know what the voice belongs to now. It’s the rage. With every creature I kill it becomes stronger; the voice becomes more substantial. The rage came out during the fighting. It blinded me, pushed me aside. It feels animal, primal, and feral. What has happened to me…

We lost the little girl and the elf. I didn’t even get to know their names. Though, I know with who I fight now. The brave dwarf is Healy and we were joined by his cousin Curie just earlier today. The bard is Spoony. Odd names, but good people. They are a talented bunch, I feel as if I can learn much from them. I’ve copied some of the bard’s words here. Maybe I can learn how to kill with them as well. I’ll practice when I have more time.

_Adult blue dragon?
_More like tiny lizard.

_I’m a bear, scary.
_Dragons might be scared of bear.
_I really hope so.

_Lennithon, you punk,
_You’re not as cool as you think.
_You’re just too common.

_Rats, disgusting rats…
_Packed with venom vitriol
_Flipping GROSS AS HECK!

_Kobold you stink, yo!
_I’m not impressed with you.

Governor Nighthill and the keymaster, Escobear, have asked us to help. We drove Lennithon away from the keep, saved the mill, and now they call us the Hero’s of Greenest. Why do people keep calling me a hero? I’m not heroic in the slightest. I’m just a big, blundering barbarian.

We think the mill was a trap. Orders were found on one of the cultists from Frulam Mondath. We were called “troublesome adventurers”. The cultists and bandits were supposed to ambush and kill us. We must be rattling some feathers somewhere. (is that the right expression?)

Nighthill is sending us back out into the village soon. There’s a temple with villagers stuck inside. He wants us to go and see what we can uncover. I fear the rage will come again…

Session 1-Greenest in Flames
Freya's Saga

I have been on the road now for almost half a year, and after joining up with a merchant caravan at Bauldur’s Gate, I’m finally close to Greenest. The dreams haven’t stopped, but have grown more frequent and intense. And there is a frightening rage within me. I feel it burning and bubbling beneath the surface, waiting, like it is alive. It’s unnerving.

The people in the caravan are a nice, but quiet bunch. There is a child, no more than ten years of age, who is traveling alone. I can only wonder where her parents are, or if she has any. I’m too afraid to ask.

Greenest came into sight as we approached the end of a long day. Burning. Like my dreams. A dragon had attacked. A…dragon.

A young dwarf, who had been traveling with us, charged ahead. No fear. Just action. I admired his bravery, it’s what I need if I’m ever going to earn the praise my people had given me. So, I charged after him. But, dwarves are not the fastest race and I quickly overcame him. I want to be brave. That doesn’t mean that I am. So, I waited for him and matched his pace.

At Greenest we came upon raiders bursting from a home, kobolds. Disgusting little creatures. They attacked immediately. It was frightening. The powerful voice in my head came alive, “FIGHT!” he commanded. So, I tried. I missed, the little buggers are so small, my greataxe went right over it’s head.

It’s humiliating to miss with such a big weapon. The bard killed a kobold with just words. WORDS! My axe was shown up by words!

I tried again, thinking this time I would aim a little lower…I really need to practice.

The ten year old was fighting with us. I thought she had stayed behind with the merchants on the road, but I underestimated her. She even killed a kobold with her ice magic. Ten…years…old.

A drake attacked just as I leaned down to dislodge my axe from the ground. Providence? Yes. It missed.

The bard hurled insults at the drake, something about his scales. It was odd, I didn’t know drake’s cared so much about their scales. I landed the killing blow. The sound…

The voice in my head approved. He said, “Good.” I followed the dwarf’s lead. He seemed to know what he was doing. Though, he was handing out lollipops…I’ve never seen a lollipop before. The ten year old asked for one, I almost did too. But, a family appeared. A father with three children. A woman with a broken spear stepped in to defend them. She fell quickly, but she bought them time to flee. It was heroic…

We ran to help. The dwarf helped the woman, brought her back to life. The bard killed five in one go. Amazing! The little girl even killed one, and the wood elf. I can’t even seem to hit the little buggers. The voice in my head growls, he’s impatient, frustrated…embarrassed. So am I.

The woman, turns out, was the mother of the family. They come back to get her. They were all in bad shape. They were heading for the keep, and I wanted to make sure they got there safely. The dwarf came with me while the others headed Northeast to figure out what’s going on. But, we were attacked. Cultists and kobolds. The voice spoke to me again. He was angry and drowned out all the noise. “Fight! Save them!” The rage beneath began to boil, but there were too many too fast. I didn’t stand a chance.

I’m writing this from my bed in the keep. I don’t even know how I got here.

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