Details of our return to the Guild house in Mid-Plain last night are muddled. Obviously we returned to our bunk room, shed off that of our weapons and armor that would have fatigued us to sleep with, and fallen into a deep slumber. Physical evidence to this is abundant.
All that I recall is waking up first of the group, near what felt like noon. I had finished meditation and felt comfortable once again with a full day’s compliment of spells, when the first of my allies woke from their sleep and realized how wounded they were. I attended each as he sat up and groaned, triaging first according to severity of curses and second to the actual wounds received.
Fixed up, we limped over to the banquet room, crammed in around a table and received food and drink. Servants summoned our host. The Guildmaster shook hands and slapped shoulders and erupted with such enthusiasm and vigor that I expected to expend the other half of my new day’s spells on healing to repair what he had wrought.
What unintentional dislocation he inflicted with his good cheer, he absolved in deeds. A servant brought a small basket; contained within were potions, a gift to take away with us. Six Cure Light Wounds, four Cure Moderate Wounds, and two very handy Potions of Aid. Our host generously offered us the horse and cart that had been captured as spoils last night, but we declined, those not being practical items to us. He then offered us the barge to have, and to use as conveyance home. This we accepted.
Our host noticed the food set before us, grew displeased, and snapped orders at a servant. Brought to us was even more food; a cured ham, bowls of eggs and fruit and breads and cheese, full-strength wine, ales and clean water. He encouraged us to take our fill, and that we would be supplied with provisions for our return to Callia, which would begin after the meal. Welcome the coming, speed the parting, I suppose.
There was nothing left for us to attend in Mid-Plain, and while he appreciated a Guild house enjoying such a capable crew as our own, our host suggested that those we had fought last night were Guildsmen of other houses, and that taking our leave of Mid-Plain would probably help to cool tensions between the Guilds.
One further detail was that we were requested to escort the surviving lizardmen prisoners back to Downmarsh Station. They would be no trouble and it would be done as a favour to our host. BOB thought to inquire about Lunk and Dusty, if there had been word. The Guildmaster confirmed there had been; our absent allies had checked in with him, reporting that they were engaged in a mission for Gavin and would meet us back in Callia.
We gathered our gear, checked under the bunks, made sure we had everything, and left for the wharf district. We had an hour before we set sail, as it were. Pulp had an idea; he left us as we set out for the wharf, and met us half an hour later at the barge. He had gone to seek out some merchants and, being an enterprising sort, Pulp had arranged to transport a small cache of Mid-Plain’s outgoing cargo back to Callia with us. It was a small supply of finished goods, six average-sized crates, whose safe delivery was worth 30 gold pieces.
This new barge of ours was considerably smaller than that which brought us to Mid-Plain. Four barges this size could have fit on the one that had left Callia. Still, I marvelled at the stability of the thing, and at no point did I fear that our collected weight and that of our scant cargo would tip us into the muddy deep.
Guildsmen quickly delivered the lizardmen prisoners, three of them, tightly bound and passive. Immobilized and in the full heat of another scorching summer day, they hardly seemed to be the threat they were just last night. We bundled them to the center of the barge, amid the crates, and agreed ourselves a guard schedule.
They have not talked to us or each other, nor made any sort of trouble. I have ensured that they have been fed and afforded water as we have, which was of no issue to my fellows.
Gear stowed and secured, our numbers complete except for Lunk and Dusty, we shoved off from the Mid-Plain wharf by mid-afternoon. Two polemen guided the barge across the river current to the far shore, making land beside a stable and a well-worn dirt part at the river’s edge. Here, a stable-hand and the polemen connected our barge to a pair of massive oxen by way of heavy rope and sturdy yoke.
Slowly, steadily, these oxen trudged north along the river-side path, dragging our barge against the mild river current. A young fellow minded them, walking beside at a leisurely pace. Our polemen pushed the barge away from shore as needed.
For the rest of the day, six hours or so, we relaxed and kept watch on our prisoners as Mid-Plain disappeared behind us.
After dark, we came upon another stable. Here, the oxen were decoupled and carefully brushed down and led away to feed. Our lines fixed fast to deep-rooted oak trees at the forest’s edge, we will spend the night in the wild. Some of us sleep on the barge, others ashore. I will have a late watch.
Journal of Dr. Marcus Grant
Healing Cleric of Pelor, Order of St-Jude Academy (Silabrek)
15th Day, travelling by river from Mid-Plain to Callia, territory of Ælim.