“What the hell am I doing in Winterhaven?!”

In 2010, I created a D&D character known as E’kai Komataree, a 4th Edition Dragonborn Paladin-then Warlord-then Hybrid Warlord/Paladin for a homebrew campaign.
What follows is E’kai’s personal journal which was originally started as a recap of the previous play session (we were only playing once a month), but then transitioned into a way for me to expand her character.

Our group of adventurers find a gate to another world and artifacts that bring forth memories of past lives…Destinies that have yet to be fulfilled.


How or why I came to be on this road with this group of people, this ragtag bunch, I know not.
Clearly, I must have been drugged or bespelled or something of that nature, for I never willingly would have agreed to such unworthy traveling companions, were I in my correct frame of mind.

However, bespelled or not, I find myself in this situation and I’ll leave the whining about it for the prissy Wizard with whom I have the misfortune to be traveling with. Tieflings. Good for absolutely nothing.We have found ourselves wandering a nondescript path, in a nondescript field, towards some nondescript town. We catch glimpses of the town through the trees, and decided to head towards it as much as not, in hopes that we might learn where we are, and find rest. From there perhaps I can find better travel companions as well.Walking along this path appears to be most dangerous – clearly the local Lord has been lax in ensuring the local militia are trained properly, as we have run into several groups of Kobolds as we get closer to town. I will speak with him and offer my training services – clearly he is in need of someone with my abilities. Not that the humans will fully appreciate a Dragonborn Captain’s training, but if they don’t drop dead, maybe they might learn a thing or two.

~-~ ~-~ ~-~ ~-~ ~-~ ~-~ ~-~ ~-~ ~-~ ~-~

The town is apparently known as Winterborn. How…quaint.
Once we finally reached the town’s inn, our party scattered like a company of Tieflings when their demon overlords died (further proof of their ineptitude), leaving me the task of selling what we’d gleaned from the Kobolds and to seek out the local Lord. The Wizard and Cleric immediately retired for the night, slinking off together at the last moment. As if we care about cross species intimacy, both are worthless anyway.

Happily, I didn’t have to waste much time on the second task. As we watched the Rogue repeatedly lose coin to an old Elf (what self respecting Rogue LOOSES coin unintentionally?), the town’s Lord, LORD PADRAIG, entered the inn’s common room, seeking the adventurers who had made safe the road to Winterhaven.

He thanked us (those of us still awake), as was proper, then offered us an additional task, if we were interested. He asked us to clear out the Kobolds from their nearby lair, including five fully equipped war horses, and a single war pony for the Dwarven Warrior. How like a human, permit those who look to them for support to die, and jump at the chance to throw the first stranger into harms way.

After LORD PADRAIG departed, the Rogue and Warlord retired to their rooms, while the Dwarf scuttled off to the stables after a particularly epic failure rejection from the bar wench. Good on her. Before I could find my own rest, I had to satisfy my responsibilities, and so went in search of a merchant. Disposing of the rabble we’d collected from the Kobolds was quickly accomplished and as I turned to make my way back to the inn, a brightly coloured tent caught my eye, the like of the wise traveling sages. Curious why such an Elder would have set up shop in Winterhaven of all places, a podunk little town by even a human’s standards, I pushed the flaps aside to reveal a very old…man.

At least I thought he was a man. All those wrinkles could be hiding almost anything I suppose. He spoke as if he knew me, in a most familial way, yet it did not put me on guard. For the cost of 6 gold I was persuaded to purchase 6 Vials of Bubbling Liquid, which would allow our ‘inner selves’ to be set free.

Now, while I certainly do not claim to have the wisdom of the Dragons, nor do I have any significant alchemy talent, I do know this: the inner self must be honed for years on the fine edge of the blade and experience. It can not be drunk from a bottle.
And yet for all that logic, I was unable to argue and once he had given me a map of the area (“For no additional cost, comes with the purchase of the vials!”) and marked several areas of interest, he quickly ushered me out and closed the tent for the night.

Shaking my head as I returned to the inn, I decided I wasn’t going to be the first to try the vial, so I made my way to the Rogue’s room and woke his ass up. When he didn’t perish on the spot, I made my way to the other rooms, (ignoring the look the Cleric gave me when he opened the door in the Wizard’s room…) and finishing with the Warrior in the stables before I downed my own vial. At least the vial’s contents did not taste vile, though the shudder that passed through my body several minutes later nearly shook a few teeth loose.

In the morrow, I will be begin to look for new traveling companions. These freaks are enough to drive…a blessed…Paladin…mad..