Dogs on the Isle, Session #4 Report: From the Journal of Ali ibn Qasim
This was written by Mistuh of Black Citadel fame from the POV of his character, the Arab alchemist Ali ibn Qasim. I've started asking players to write these reports (ideally in-character), rewarding them with lore-drops and plot hooks.
10
Late Winter.
5 Years from Andalusia,
5 Years since I have been made a Man.
I spend time with Feather and Fur.
The Pict prowls the wilds as if her home.
The Witch keeps to herself,
I fear she hides something.
The Gotsman spends his time with his Flame,
The Norsemen spend their time in revelry,
The son of Sturla speaks to a man of sea:
He says he does not trust the She-Vizier.
I doubt many of us do.
She calls for us, the She-Vizier.
She asks to aid the with the plague.
I seek to provide my services
The Witch has other plans.
I order the creation of a lab
And ask for River-Water.
As I try a strange vial I am wracked with pain.
I ca only describe it as the same one a mother feels.
13
Late Winter.
5 years from Andalusia,
5 years since I have been made a Man.
The sages here tell me of Donenashoe,
Their great stone city
In the heart of the island:
A place of miracles.
When Rumiyah came they welcomed them,
The Men in the Stone City.
The highest king of the land let them stay,
This, many say, was their doom.
When Rumiyah fell it fell on the stone city like thunder.
Those opposed to Isa tore the king from his throne,
They blamed him for the fall.
The city ate itself.
The city is there, Within the heart of Ruisland.
It is the home of things now, not men.
They scurry and clamber, and deep still it is terrible.
Some say there is treasure there.
16
Late Winter
5 years from Andalusia
5 years since I have been made a man
The river is impure,
Someone uses it for a charnel,
I ask the lord to remove the bodies
And to purify drinking water.
Upon the beasts thrown in the river
Strange marks appear,
Smearings of tree-pitch
And the rot of a leper.
17
Late Winter
5 years from Andalusia
5 years since I have been made a man
Only 4 of us venture out today:
Me, The witch, the Gotsman and a new companion.
We travel to a village, Ogennalloe,
To find the ward for the metal men.
The men of the village have gone missing:
The smith and the headsman,
The headsman’s wife rules in his stead,
Her daughter by her side.
The village here is protected,
A Wolf-Djinn,
Who has made this place safe,
Is what guard from the men of metal.
We return to Dorbagh,
We seek men to cure the river of its plague.
6 take arms and march with us,
Eastward, from where the river flows.
The charnel-river grows fouler still,
Corpses form damns.
The skirmishers tell there are dead things in the water,
Dead things on the banks.
The witch musters an order:
By fire and by oil,
We shall cast flame upon the river as the Greeks do
To cleanse whatever rots this place.