Session Report (August 29)
The party of adventurers take their leave from the barrow at Logiheimll and begin the long hike back to Isfjall. Several days later they reach the town after a couple of minor encounters — one with a bear, the other with a wild boar.
In Isfjall, they find Geirolf Tyrthegne and tell them of their progress. They show him the meistaratakn (master token) and how it can be used to locate the final missing tiwstakn, way up in the Frostharrow. At this Geirolf grows excited. “That relic must have been carried by one of the final pilgrimages to the lost Hall,” he says. “It’s probably near the entrance!”
Grend agrees. “An’ we wanna go check it out,” he slobbers. “But dair’s more… In da Ward’n’s tomb we saw a sword.” He and the others describe the blade to Geirolf. “We tink it’s da Law Gibber,” Grend finishes.
“Yes!” Geirolf says. “It must be Lögfræðingur, the Law Giver. As a relic it is very important. Someone,” he eyes the party, “needs to go get it.”
“We can’t,” says Enok. “The Warden says that only a holy warrior of Tyr may wield it. He refused to give it to us.”
They discuss the situation a bit. “We must take this to the Braeðralag of Tyr,” Geirolf says. “But they won’t take my word for it. You all will need to tell them your story. Then maybe the Braeðralag will be able to spare someone to help you recover Lögfræðingur. I will set up a meeting with the Braeðralag.”
Geirolf takes his leave with a promise to send word once the meeting is set up. The adventurers begin the business of selling their loot, purchasing new gear, procuring room and board, and the like.
A few days later they receive word that the meeting with the Brothers of Tyr has been set up. They go to Tyr’s temple and are ushered into a large room outfitted as a study or library. A long table fills the center of the room. At one end sit three stern priests of Tyr. Geirolf is standing in the back of the room behind them.
At the closer end of the table is a single chair; in front of it, on the table, is a weird brass contraption consisting of several tubes curved in cunning ways. The largest brass tube sticks out of the device vertically. This tube has a narrow diagonal cut in it that reminds Findlay of a flute’s or a recorder’s reed.
The elderly, grizzled priest at the opposite end of the table speaks. “I am Harald Prestursson. I, along with Toke Tyrthegne, to my left, and Skarde Ulfson, on my right, are here to listen to your story.” He pauses for a moment. “Choose one of your number to speak, and that person shall sit in the chair before you.” The group confers briefly and decides that Findlay is best equipped to speak for the group. The Halfling climbs into the chair at their end of the table and peers around the brass device back at the priests. “Tell us of your recent discoveries.” Harald says.
Findlay begins to tell the story in his inimical style, his voice rising and falling dramatically. When he gets to the first attack of the skeletons, he exaggerates a bit: “And there we were surrounded on all sides by hundreds of humanoid skeletons, each armed to the teeth…” The brass device emits a tremendously loud whistle, drowning out Findlay’s voice. He stops, frowns, and tries again. “At least fifty of the horrendous monsters…” The whistle blows again. “It was easily a dozen with some old swords,” he says tentatively. When the whistle doesn’t go off again he continues.
Chastised a bit by the lie-detection apparatus, Findlay continues without too much hyperbole to relate the events around their discovery of Logiheimli. (As Findlay starts to get carried away by the dramatic narrative, a few faint whistles from the device helps push him back towards the literal truth.) Once he finishes, Harald speaks again. “Most interesting. You certainly believe that the ruins you found were Logiheimli. And many of the details would seem to fit.” He stands. “Please, step back into the common hall while we discuss.” An acolyte leads the party out of the library.
Thirty minutes go by, and finally they are led back into the chamber. Standing near their side of the table is a human, wearing the colors of Tyr over light chain armor, a sword on his belt. He is tall and rangy with red hair. Although he looks to be in his twenties, his dour expression would be more appropriate on someone twice that age. “It is decided,” Harald says. “A chance to recover Lögfræðingur cannot be ignored. We task Arne Arneson, holy warrior of Tyr,” he nods at the warrior, “with accompanying you to the ruins of Logiheimli. There he will recover the holy sword in the name of the Braeðralag.” His gaze shifts to Arne. “Sir Arneson, I leave it to your judgment: after you have secured Lögfræðingur, you must decide if returning the sword here should be your priority, or if joining this brave party of questors on their investigations into the Frostharrow is warranted.” He then addresses the party again. “I’m sorry that we cannot spare but the one warrior to accompany you on this mission. We are stretched thin on multiple fronts.” Harald dismisses the adventurers. (In the background, Geirolf flashes them a thumbs-up.)
As they leave, Arne grabs Shae by the arm. “I will need a few days to prepare. Shall we meet the morning of Thor’s Day, 3 days hence?” They agree and the party departs.