The river Siste

Bernard Black was standing at the keel of a large river boat, his tangled black hair being swept backwards in the strong wind. Ahead of him the city of Carthusal spread out, for what seemed to be miles on end. The city was by far the largest one he had ever seen. He wasn’t an old man, but did consider himself quite widely travelled. Sure, he was only 23 years old and had spent most of his life at the Academy in Silverforge and then a few years at the Temple in the Stormhills, but at least for the last few weeks, he sure had been travelling a lot!

He had not only saved the village of Bassela from a malicious band of bandits, he had also stopped the Black Hand´s lackeys from drying up all the lakes close to Flodby. His heroics didn’t even stop there, as he had nearly saved the life of a Derprus priest, who had been transformed into a monstrous ettin. Had he not been travelling with that human bard Madmardigan it had all worked out perfectly, he thought to himself with a slight grimace on his face. To add on top of all these heroic feats, he had even helped an elven Druid by the name of Nailo to free his family of an ancient curse, all this in the glorious name of Derprus.

Sure, he had not exactly done all these things alone; he did have some help at times. His always radiant caretaker and friend from the temple, Tiddel, had accompanied him from the start of his journey. He had also joined forces with two men he met in a near empty tavern in Bassela. The first of them, who had introduced himself as, William Madmardigan, the Demon Slayer, was an always charming Human Bard who travelled the realm in search of glory, fame and all the perks that came along with such a life.  William had had a fairly reluctant companion with him, an elven druid by the name of Nailo.

Nailo had only recently started to warm to the idea of travelling with his current companions. This mainly showed by him using expressions such as, “Damn Halfbreeds” and “Gah, hasty humans!” less frequently. 

The smell of the harbour bazaar hit Bernard almost like one of Madmardigan´s crossbow bolts hits an innocent farmer in the face. Without him realising it the ship had brought him into the harbour. Seamen were running around, the captain shouting orders and a lonely swallow had placed itself on the mast of the ship. 

The group had travelled on the river Siste for a full week and none of them were unhappy to finally feel steady stones under their feet.