Kent Ax Day

As the town gathered up their dead and tended the wounded, the party recovered in the Temple of Waves tavern. There, Galandra, Jabby, and Dwyer fed them and mourned the fallen with the heroes on the Battle for Orlumbor. Jabby asked about their goddess, this Arumbelle, and what they did in her tradition to honor the dead. They explained they did not know since much was lost since her fall. Falka told Jabby the best tradition of Arumbelle was to go find a notebook, and to write down a delight. Go on, she urged. 

When Jabby returned, Falka explained that if he wanted to honor Arumbelle he should keep a "Book of Delights" in which he would write down something that brought him delight that day. Jabby was not so sure exactly what that meant, so Falka volunteered a delight, explaining that the physical act that was battle, finding prey, stalking it, and killing it, was a delight to the animal side of her. She found joy in letting her body exert itself in the hunt -- in this case for Acklan Ro. Dala'gse shared a delight as well, that despite the sorrow,  there was much heroism on the battlefield. Safad volunteered the delight that the townspeople continued to perform admirably after the battle, tending the wounded, cooking communal suppers, and coming together. 

And in their first Telling of Delights, something wondrous happened. 

In reviving a lost tradition, they felt a surge in their connection to Arumbelle. They nearly lost consciousness as their entire being thrummed with energy, building to a crescendo until they felt pure serenity and focus in their mind's eye. And there they saw a motherly figure looking at them, imploring them, "Come find me." It was Arumbelle, and the closest brush with her they'd had. They felt a wave of perspective wash over them, and with it self knowledge. Their marks of the goddess glowed, they exhaled, and were back in the tavern. 

A renewed vigor welled up within them, and just in time. Lecky, the second-in-command of the temple in Delshara's absence found them and asked them to join her to meet with the surviving leaders of each of Orlumbor's groups. They obliged and followed her down to the docks where the lead Docker, Guilder, Farmer, and Joiner had set up a makeshift crisis command post under a tent. 

A half-elf man, the Guilder, introduced himself as Griseldo and spoke.

"Thank you for coming. We are in deep mourning. So much death and loss. So many of the townspeople, or friends, our families, our companions...just...gone," Giseldo steeled himself. "But thanks to you, we have not lost our livelihoods. The ships and buildings are intact. We would have been destroyed by the TRP brutes, and instead they are our prisoners. We have nothing too offer you that is worthy of what you've done."

Griseldo looked around the group assembled and nodded at the Joiner, who took up the conversation. 

"But we do have ships. The finest in the world. Hobbin Keys is my name and I'm the new master joiner. We would have you take one as a gift. We will provide you with a captain-pilot and a cabin staff. I will show you the styles of ship we have and let you take your pick for what might suit your needs."

The party followed Hobbin Keys down to the drydock where they picked out a twin-masted cat-ketch rig Keys explained was their "Mistwood" design. He said it was the most flexible ship they had, capable of handling all manner of wind while not sacrificing speed. It was a gentle boat as well, and his favorite. He introduced them to the captain, Petra Pistokles, a half-elf femalee with several bangles and rings adorning her tanned arms. She was honored to have been chosen among the many pilots who volunteered for the position. Pistokles in turn said she had a cabin-boy in mind, he was a bit of an oddball but the best in the business. 

With that the party returned to helping the town clean up and heal and rebuild. Dala'gse venture back out on to the battlefield and adjoining farmland. He called upon his connection with Silvanus to bless the land with bountiful growth. As he was walking he also noticed something that lay in the mire where Acklan Ro had fallen. It was the man's journal. He brought it back to the party to read. As they held it by the light of the dying tavern fire, Dala'gse, Ironica, and Falka looked at each other -- an eerie chill passed through them as they recalled a similar journal in the Hark's possessions. Acklan's began in much the same way, coherent, until it descended into madness. 

Acklan's Journal

The early entries describe a man who took over from the venerable leader, Trevon, one of the original  Knights of the Sword Coast, who slew the litch Barethist. He writes about his honor and great responsibility at continuing the great tradition of the Trollbark Reclamation Project. He was eager to promote the values Trevon had established: a free society, making it work across the goblinoid cultures that they welcomed into the TRP. Norms would be difficult with so many different cultures and ways. But he wrote about it being a peaceful endeavor with the desire to carry on the work of reuniting the forest. The ambition and weight of the responsibility Acklan felt was palpable in his writing. 

Woven throughout were more personal entries on a new lover, called Kent Ax. An orc. The first mentions are full of all the infatuated overly romantic sentiments of new love, but they mature quickly into something deeper. Acklan talks about how Kent was everything to him. He also writes that he noticed a useful side effect from the relationship -- an elf and an orc together was encouraging closer ties between the races. 

As Acklan put in motion his plans to expand the TRP, Kent was influential. 

But something happened in the journal's narrative that marked a change in both style and content. He writes about meeting a man called Telloux the Pious, who claimed to have discovered an old text that granted people power to influence and achieve their ends. Telloux said he was traveling around looking for the righteous and the wronged to help them see their worthy ambitions through. He noted this power came with a cost, a sacrifice of "that which is most dear to you." Telloux encouraged Acklan to think about what that might be and to seek him out in the hills by Daggerford, overlooking the Delimbiyr, if he wanted help. 

Acklan's writings turned excited. If what the man was peddling was real it could be huge. It could help him achieve what Trevon never did--order and peace in the Trollbarks. A haven for travelers! He mentions telling Kent about it one night as they lay together, who cautioned that it sounded dangerous. Acklan agreed and thanked Kent for his counsel, grateful to have this man in his life. And as he we was overtaken by emotion for his partner, Acklan knew what was most dear to him.

The entries that followed were full of angst and tension. It was the notebook of a man at odds with himself, wrestling with his ambition and weighing it against his personal life. It was difficult to read, especially knowing the outcome. 

And eventually the rationalizations appeared. Acklan wrote about even if he had to renounce Kent and the culture they had built here, it would be worth it. What was a small grain of sand in world reshaped for the better? One small sacrifice for the good of all. It had to be worth it. What was one man's life worth compared to peace? To order? To tranquility? They needed control over the forest at all costs and if he had to sacrifice one aspect of himself to achieve it, so be it. Acklan had made up him mind. He sought out Telloux and returned to the Trollbarks. 

But Kent must have senses something, for by the time Acklan had returned, Kent had disappeared. Acklan was furious. If he did not have the one thing he needed, this ingredient of a sacrifice in Kent, his whole plan was futile.

Instead, he lashed out at anything Kent stood for. He publicly defined that which had existed among the TRP without binary structure, and outlawed homosexuality. He renounced it himself. And he noticed an incremental change in how people listened to him. The power of Telloux was working. They were flocking to him, listening. Understanding his vision. 

Inevitably his expansion hit a snag. Acklan sought more power. He pushed deeper to expunge Kent's influence and began creating more definitions of types of people, anyone who was like Kent, and rounded them up. At one point he describes exiling or killing anyone who wore a bracer like Kent's. The journal became the ravings of a psychopath. 

And the power flowed to him. It was clear to the reader that it was feeding on his actions. He writes about the people approving (presumably the ones not targeted). He talks about further progress, how the people are more loyal then ever. Everyone united. They were making more and more progress. Expanding protection of the forest. Peace was in sight! 

All that remained was Kent Ax himself. By that time, they had discovered he was hiding in the island-nation of Orlumbor. The entire TRP set sail...

---

After the party finished reading the journal, Falka asked Ironica for the scepter she had taken from Acklan's body. Falka held the volcanic rock in her hand and a shadow passed over her face. Her eyes rolled back and she saw with her Grim Psychometry. 

She was in a cave, by a fire, a hooded figure held the scepter, and read from a book. She watched as she cut her hand, Acklan's hand, and let the blood drip onto the scepter and into the fire. The hooded figure completed the reading and thrust the scepter into the fire and then into her hands. The vision faded.

The party's solemn discovery was abruptly interrupted by a raspy geriatric voice, thick with a goblin accent,

"Hey. I heard you were looking for me. I'm the cabin boy, Grundelle."

What stood before them could hardly be described as a "boy." It was an ancient goblin man, stooped and dirty. After exchanging gruff pleasantries, Grundelle had someone convinced the party to join him for an evening out on Wharf street. 

What followed was a series of escapades that began with Grundelle introducing the party to Wharf Street Delight, a curious drink of some local moonshine with a raw egg and seawater dropped in. After a few of those the party really loosened up and all bets were off. Passersbies noticed them and kept calling them the "Animal Spirits" in reference to the wolf and bear shapeshifting of Falka and Dala'gse as well as the fire-breathing raven, Rook. They swarmed around them. Called them the Heroes of the Battle of Orlumbor. Their purses were cut in the dodgy alley that was wharfstreet. Their monies returned. Dala'gse kissed a crone. He kissed someone whose face he could not remember. The townsfolk let out their pent up grief and spontaneous jubilation spread throughout the town. Chants of Kent Ax erupted. Soon all of Orlumbor was on Wharf street. Mingling, dancing, finding hole-in-the-wall corners for lovemaking. It was orgiastic release. 

Falka and Grundelle thought it was a good time to rob a local shop for petty cash. Grundelle spent a great deal of time sneaking around a shop. They succeeded, and got a minor trinket. But the shopkeep's cat familiar saw them and reported them to the guard. 

The festivities spilled over into the following day as the town processed its grief with song and dance. And it had a healing effect. Tears mixed Wharf Street Special. The town came together. Safad kissed someone. Ironica reveled. The party asked others to tell them their delights. In a solemn moment amid the din of the party, Jabby the gnome explained how he had lost his brother and sister in the battle, and yet still, as he saw the sun rise that morning over the ocean, he felt a kind of delight, an assurance that the world carried on, that fish still swam in the sea, that dolphins still played...that the sun still rose. And he knew he could too.

The celebration came to be known as Kent Ax day and it signaled a new beginning for Orlumbor. 

The next day, the five leaders of the town had gathered everyone to take advantage of the civic spirit and help them move on together. But they faced a problem. They knew they needed the TRP-prisoners to be integrated into the town, to work with them. Dala'gse had convinced them of that. They were so great in number, likely skilled, and it could be the best thing for the rejuvenation of the town. But how would the people accept it? 

The leaders turned to the "Animal Spirits". If the town would listen to anyone about embracing their enemy, it would be the heroes of the battle for Orlumbor. 

Rya took to the stage on a balcony overlooking the working waterfront where the people had gathered. She fumbled through some half-convincing rhetoric, an appeal that fell on deaf ears. Some people booed, some walked away. The leadership was growing nervous, when Rya found the right words. She called on the strength of Orlumbor, their tradition as a people, and challenged them to take on this difficult task of welcoming their assailants in community. She acknowledged it would not be easy, but had the easy path seen a tiny island build thousands of ships that graced the most advanced navies of Faerun? The people accepted her words, and accepted the TRP. 

The party carved an Octopus into their new ship's prow, a Hearthsign into the side, and named it Herman's Regret. 

They set sail for the Chionthar and Dragonspear.