A brief telling from Rolan’s perspective:
We set out from New Halagard at the tenth hour, and enjoyed our single day of travel without rain. Nothing much happened that day or night, but apparently the halfling was hearing things in the night.
A cold front swept in the next day, and thus began torrential rain. I prepared everyone as best I could, but nothing could prevent the soaking we received. At least we weren’t cold and miserable. Just miserable. A little.
We passed a column of the Governor’s soldiers flying his banners on the second day, and the group included some members of the Chessenta family. I led the group off the road and out of the way, but they spotted me. At least they didn’t think I was a threat—I wouldn’t be as good as Donarvan at explaining the situation.
On the third day, we reached the farm lands and decided to cut through the fields rather than pass by Fieldwatch and risk undue attention from the army garrisoned there. We encountered only one man out in the fields in this weather. He declined Kildrak’s help, so we moved on and reached the edge of the ridge just as the sun was setting. We could see the Kawwat village below us, but we thought it might be better to arrive in the daytime, even if it meant spending another night getting soaked by the rain.
Some dragonborn came upon us, curious about where Donarvan was from. After convincing them that we wouldn’t hurt them, they brought us back to the village where we spent the night warm and dry.
My brother, Zeek, came and woke me just after I’d fallen asleep, and we had a chance to catch up. Turned out that the Mailed Fist had been raiding the Kawwat a lot, though their raids have dwindled lately as a number of paladins were recalled to the city. I explained the opportunity that the museum had to offer, and he seemed excited and promised to take that information to the Elders on the Council and get us an audience with them.
Finally I fell asleep and slept like a rock until the fellow Farkus asked us to take out of the city woke us all, screaming bloody murder. There were a few tense moments between Kildrak and this former paladin of Torm, but the Council came to speak with us and I deferred to Donarvan’s way with words. Zeek was particularly excited, and we sparked a great deal of conversation amongst the elders.
In the midst of that, I heard one of the scouts give a call. The guards rushed out and eventually returned with word that they had spotted a Hot Blood raiding party on its way toward the farmlands. Bellos—the former paladin—immediately strode out of the hut and readied the horse I had purchased for the halfling. We caught up with him long enough to determine that he intended to warn the farmers that the raid was coming, not to stop the Hot Bloods all by himself. The halfling abruptly became a bobcat and started loping after Bellos and the horse. The rest of us looked at each other for a moment, unsure if we should have known she could do that.
We explained Bellos’ intentions to the Council. They didn’t want us to fight the Hot Bloods—especially with Donarvan with us as the Hot Bloods might suspect the Kawwat’s involvement—but they supported any measure that could reduce the loss of human life in the farm lands. They provided three salamanders for us to follow Bellos on, and we caught up with him just after he convinced the first farmstead to batten down the hatches. We split up, Kildrak and myself heading along the edges that would face the Hot Blood attack first, and the other three rode southwest to the next farm down that might have horses in hopes of getting the word out faster.
We came upon a few farmers in the fields and encouraged them to take cover. Eventually they listened. By now we could see the smoke over our shoulders…the attack must have begun. The halfling rode past us on the horse—without Bellos—shouting something about going north to warn people, so we turned south to regroup with Bellos and Donarvan. They had found a patrol of guards who were now riding hard for the edge of the farm lands. Apparently a few of them had also headed back toward the garrison to call for reinforcements.
We stood for a moment, watching the guards head toward the threat where they were probably outnumbered, and I glanced at the salamanders we rode and our Donarvan. What could we do to help without turning the Hot Bloods on the Kawwat?