Chapter Thirteen

## **A Long Expected Party Name**

**Sjikraltdag 20th Biriskjur 1770 to Moradag 21st Biriskjur 1770**

As night fell, five companions sat around the fire examining the newspaper headline before them. Plymouth was understandably shaken by the news of his mother’s arrest and as Brandyr attempted to engage in some good-natured but perhaps ill-timed banter about his mother’s attractiveness, the subject was soon dropped. Conversation instead turned to the matter of finalising the Freedom of the Empire documents that they had been granted.

Nixe suggested they name their group “The Pathfinders”, for they came from all directions and always found their way. Fitz recommended something more official sounding, along the lines of “The Rime Restoration/Archaeological Society”, but this idea was rejected by Plymouth as he felt an initialised name might draw unwelcome subconscious association with the Ungermoth Reparation Army.

Plymouth Argyle recommended “The Ungerdogs“, whilst the young Booker Longsparkle elected not to put forward a name. Brandyr, ever the devotee of the Morndinsamman, recommended “The Fellowship of Berronar’s Rings” and whilst the religious connotations weren’t for everyone, they agreed that “The Fellowship” had a ring to it. Having agreed on a name, conversation turned to their roles within the group and their titles were settled on as follows.

Nixe-nona Airendil – Pathfinder

Plymouth Argyle – Fugleman

Ryan Fitzpatrick – Custodian

Brandyr Greybeard – Faenor

Booker Longsparkle – Antiquarian

Their administration done for the evening, The Fellowship retired to bed.

All but Nixe were awoken in the very early hours of the morning by a faint noise, somewhere in the direction of the station, a light rumbling of an engine, no louder than a generator. Moments later, a thopter, a small one-man aircraft, lifted into the air, hovering overhead for a while before taking off at speed towards the south. The post had finally left Rime and along with it the letters the party had sent.

It was Moradag, the day of Moradin. The beginning of a new tenday and traditionally a day of rest, but not for the survivors of Russet who, even at this early hour, were working hard to make this ramshackle camp into a habitable, temporary home. As they worked, The Fellowship gathered their belongings and said their goodbyes. Booker visiting Set Straightpeen and asking after his father’s health and Brandyr making a donation for the camp to Gart Steakhammer, for which Gart gave him a very fine pen in return.

Brandyr then approached Booker. There had been some tension over trust issues between the two, but Brandyr offered the gnome one of the Linked Rings of Berronar Truesilver and Booker gladly accepted. Placing one of the rings on their fingers, Brandyr uttered a prayer to Berronar Truesilver and the rings slipped through one another and parted. As they did so, both Brandyr and Booker heard a calm, female voice saying *“I grant you my power, may you use it wisely”*. Nixe, witnessing Brandyr give away one of the rings that he had found, couldn’t help but feel a little slighted.

Then Brandyr popped into town to buy some beer and got distracted in his Faenorly duties, healing the injured at the House of the Morndinsamman. The others, having met up with Delg and Wilf, were ready to go, so Booker used his ring to send a message to Brandyr, telling him to get his arse back to the taxi wagon and the dwarven priest came running.

A small crowd gathered to say goodbye and as the taxi departed, the party told Delg to take the most direct route to Bezmadanbaor, instead of daisy-chaining the cities. A route that would take them straight past The Agolith. They then set about investigating and divvying up the supplies that Set Straightpeen and the people of Russet had donated. These included;

An assortment of clean clothes and a bar of soap.

Two potions of healing and one potion of Blight cure.

A small leather pouch containing five Brass Buttons of Miner Protection, which the party distributed evenly amongst themselves.

A set of studded-leather armour which was eventually claimed by Plymouth after some friendly dice-rolling.

A worn copy of “Herman Crockwright and the Warriors of the Wild”, which was promptly thrown out of the window by Plymouth, only to be retrieved by Nixe, by way of summoned eagle. Inside the front page were two messages; the first reading *“Dear Mervin, thanks for being a fan. Auntie Alice”.* The second read; *“To my good friends! You kept me company on one long journey, I hope this book keeps you company on yours. Your friend, Melvin!”.*

A mammoth’s tusk, which Booker gleefully went to claim as his own before noticing a sealed letter attached to it addressed to “McQuaffin & Cwench, Bezmadanbaor”.

A fishing rod and net and a sledgehammer, which the party chose to leave in the wagon for when needed.

The first day of the journey passed uneventfully. Brandyr and Fitz slept, Plymouth identified the magical items they had recovered, Booker annoyed everyone with his tinkering, and Nixe switched between the cabin and the roof intermittently. As the party made camp and took it in turns keeping watch, they couldn’t help but feel that the first day had gone well. But would the remainder of the Fellowship’s long, expected journey be quite as free from danger?

Next: Chapter Fourteen. Things Go South