Hey everyone. I thought I would post some fiction here. The stuff below is the first part of a projected many. The main character is writing a journal as he explores Elona. The point is not to rehash the Nightfall story, but to tell a new story in the GW world. Comments are certainly welcome.
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Colossus 37, 1275 DR
I arrived in Istan this morning. The journey across the sea bored me, but the salty ocean spray and the crispness of the open wind has refreshed my spirits; it is good to be away from the politics and bickering of the Canthan arenas, and from the guild. That place and those people feel like part of a long-past nightmare, something disturbing yet not worth worrying about.
I still have hope that no one pursued me, although I have no way of knowing if they did or not. For that reason I asked the crew to let me off outside of Kamadan, on a small island to the East: the Island of Shehkah. That way I can approach the city quietly and anonymously, without the fanfare of a ship arriving from across the ocean.
I took my time and explored the island, getting used to solid ground. I met a woman who found it amusing to kill me—I don’t think I understand this Istani humor. She cited a need to demonstrate how a resurrection shrine works. Before I know what had happened, I was laying on the cold stone, looking down at myself. It has been a while since I was last dead. I had nearly forgotten the bizarre, light feeling as you elevate slowly away from your corpse.
The beauty of this land touches me. The architecture is elegant yet solid, the color of the stonework like precious metal. The leaves of bushes look like something that titan servants might use to fan their giant king—perhaps the towering figures I see in the distance. Trees offer generous, wide shade. Distant ruins speak to my soul of time and permanence, foundations and heritage, strength and integrity. Already I feel the desire to explore, to be out in the open and just breathe.
Some Corsairs did give me some minor trouble, especially once I had entered a small village named Chahbek. The problems they caused me are hardly worth mentioning, although the locals probably felt differently. But I easily took care of them. I plan to spend the night here in Chahbek, and then in the morning enter Kamadan.
Journal of a Cartographer
HezekiahKurtz
Aleks
Very good. Very little plot for a fiction, but since this is a journal I guess that can be omitted!
On a lighter note, it was too short >_>
On a lighter note, it was too short >_>
HezekiahKurtz
Thanks for the feedback! Here is the next entry.
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Colossus 38, 1275 DR
The walk to Kamadan was quick and uneventful—one may as well call Chahbek a suburb of Kamadan—but the first time I introduced myself as Hezekiah Kidron, I discovered that within the last week a Tyrian had been looking for a Tyrian with my name. From the description the amor crafter gave me—a tall, dark assassin with a hooked nose and braided hair—I must conclude that it can only be Guel. So much for escaping without being pursued or leaving any trace of my destination. He must have sailed on a ship that was either faster or that made fewer stops than mine; I imagine he had more time to find fast passage.
I do not doubt that he has been sent to exact revenge. I wish they had listened. I made the pact for the sole purpose of helping the guild, and I made it at great personal cost. I suppose that at this point I am simply fortunate to still be alive.
Asking around revealed that he stayed only for a few hours, and then was off. I don’t know if I should stay here, or if I should leave. Am I at greater risk on the move, or in staying somewhere that I know Guel is not? My name is already known here; elsewhere I can use a different name and that will do some of the work of hiding my presence.
Kamadan itself is more fortress than city—for one thing I could not enter without permission from a guard. Sunspears patrol the courtyards as if today were a time of war. Shorewatchers keep a vigilant eye over the Sun Docks. On all sides the walls meld with natural rock, looming overhead like monuments to wars long past. It is sometimes difficult to tell where man’s work ends, and the Gods’ begins.
Despite the need to keep quiet, I could not resist a quick visit to the calling towers of the Consulate. There I met a leader of the people, Elder Suhl.
“You’ve come far,” he said. “Tyrians do not come here without good cause.”
“I was last in Cantha.”
“A traveler, then.”
I shrugged. “I suppose.”
“Ah, a traveler—but not by choice. A runner, then.”
“Kamadan is a fine fortress you have,” I said. “It is, indeed, a jewel among cities. Ascalon herself could learn a thing or two about beauty from your home.”
He laughed. “I have seen drawings of Ascalon, from days before the Searing. I believe you lie—at least, if you consider Ascalon’s glimmering walls before the Searing.”
“I left before the Searing. My memories of home are unscathed.”
He stood silently for a moment. “We have enough trouble here, already. Whatever you are running from—do not let it disturb our land.”
“I intend to not let trouble find even me.”
I think that in the morning I will leave, and find a place where my name and face are not connected.
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Colossus 38, 1275 DR
The walk to Kamadan was quick and uneventful—one may as well call Chahbek a suburb of Kamadan—but the first time I introduced myself as Hezekiah Kidron, I discovered that within the last week a Tyrian had been looking for a Tyrian with my name. From the description the amor crafter gave me—a tall, dark assassin with a hooked nose and braided hair—I must conclude that it can only be Guel. So much for escaping without being pursued or leaving any trace of my destination. He must have sailed on a ship that was either faster or that made fewer stops than mine; I imagine he had more time to find fast passage.
I do not doubt that he has been sent to exact revenge. I wish they had listened. I made the pact for the sole purpose of helping the guild, and I made it at great personal cost. I suppose that at this point I am simply fortunate to still be alive.
Asking around revealed that he stayed only for a few hours, and then was off. I don’t know if I should stay here, or if I should leave. Am I at greater risk on the move, or in staying somewhere that I know Guel is not? My name is already known here; elsewhere I can use a different name and that will do some of the work of hiding my presence.
Kamadan itself is more fortress than city—for one thing I could not enter without permission from a guard. Sunspears patrol the courtyards as if today were a time of war. Shorewatchers keep a vigilant eye over the Sun Docks. On all sides the walls meld with natural rock, looming overhead like monuments to wars long past. It is sometimes difficult to tell where man’s work ends, and the Gods’ begins.
Despite the need to keep quiet, I could not resist a quick visit to the calling towers of the Consulate. There I met a leader of the people, Elder Suhl.
“You’ve come far,” he said. “Tyrians do not come here without good cause.”
“I was last in Cantha.”
“A traveler, then.”
I shrugged. “I suppose.”
“Ah, a traveler—but not by choice. A runner, then.”
“Kamadan is a fine fortress you have,” I said. “It is, indeed, a jewel among cities. Ascalon herself could learn a thing or two about beauty from your home.”
He laughed. “I have seen drawings of Ascalon, from days before the Searing. I believe you lie—at least, if you consider Ascalon’s glimmering walls before the Searing.”
“I left before the Searing. My memories of home are unscathed.”
He stood silently for a moment. “We have enough trouble here, already. Whatever you are running from—do not let it disturb our land.”
“I intend to not let trouble find even me.”
I think that in the morning I will leave, and find a place where my name and face are not connected.
HezekiahKurtz
Colossus 39, 1275 DR
I think I have found a party I can explore and travel with. It’s a small group—only four at the moment—but that seems large enough to brave the dangers of the current area.
I left Kamadan first thing in the morning. Well, first I stopped by the armor crafter to take a look at the gear I saw yesterday. It’s sturdier that what I arrived here with. So, I whipped out my coin purse and got me some—well, once I had purchased some crafting material. I was amazed that it only took a moment, and then smack! I had the new armor. I would have thought that it would take a day or two to make, and that I would have to come back. I destroyed the old stuff; the armor crafter said it could not be used anymore. I don’t get why not, but I guess that’s just the way it is.
As I left—alone—I was warned about the aggressive plants in the Plains of Jarin. I didn’t believe it, and my suspicions were confirmed. I actually ran past a lot of them. Patted a few on the head, although I avoided the floating radishes because they looked like they might sting a little. Maybe my new armor sent a signal to them that they should simply treat me with a little respect. /flex
It took about half a day for me to make it to the Sunspear Great Hall. I could have gotten there in a shorter period, but I found it irresistible to not take my time and simply explore the land. The savannah captivated me. Rolling hills. Big sky. Still air. I find myself wishing to explore this entire continent, to map out every last mile.
It took about five minutes in the Sunspear Great Hall to know I didn’t want to stay long. It was only a courtyard. I could not gain entrance to see what that monolithic structure hid within. Aside from the sculptures of spears and shields, the place held nothing special for me. I gave no one my name, and quickly left.
Not two hundred yards from the walls of the hall I came across a party of four adventurers—well, three adventurers and one recently killed paragon. I could see they needed help, surrounded by a mob of mandragor slithers, bladed termites, and preying lances. It was a nasty little fray; even the monk took hit after hit. I stood outside and away, casting spears and calling out shouts: Aria of Restoration and Anthem of Flame.
From where I stood, I could see the weakest monsters, so called out a prime target. The warrior and ranger heard, and focused their attacks. The monk slowly backed away, healing like a madman. Once he was back and safe, he gave me a quick nod and called the next target. I followed his lead. Really it didn’t take long from there. The beasties fell quickly, and once the last was down, the monk immediately began to cast Rebirth on the fallen Paragon.
With a flashing spike of gold the paragon teleported to the monk, alive and standing. No sooner had the monk finished his spell, than he turned on the grinning paragon and decked him full on in the chin. The paragon spun to the ground and landed on the side of his face.
“What are you thinking!” the monk shouted. “Rushing into that mob like that!”
The paragon leapt up, his eyes wide and his jaw clenched. He stepped forward as if to rush the monk, but fell again as the ranger—coming from behind—kicked his feet out from under him. The warrior sheathed her sword with a decisive clank and laughed.
“We won’t last a day with you around,” the monk said. He stood over the paragon.
“I simply engaged them,” the paragon said. Although he tried, he failed at looking menacing—mostly because of how he rubbed the side of his head where it had hit the dirt.
“Yes, engaged them by rushing in dozens of yards ahead of us, not stopping to consider that another mob was nearby. You have no idea what your role is, and I don’t have time to teach you.” He shook his head and pointed back at the Great Hall. “You’re not part of this group. Go back and find some other fools to travel with.”
The paragon started to object, but the monk moved as if to kick him, and he quickly scrambled away, stopping only to nab his shield out of the grass. The group watched until he was over the nearest hill, and once the last bit of dust had settled, they turned as one to face me.
I didn’t know what to do, so simply smiled and gave a little wave.
The monk held out his hand, and said, “Welcome to our group. I’m Bruck Broadbone, leader.”
I think I have found a party I can explore and travel with. It’s a small group—only four at the moment—but that seems large enough to brave the dangers of the current area.
I left Kamadan first thing in the morning. Well, first I stopped by the armor crafter to take a look at the gear I saw yesterday. It’s sturdier that what I arrived here with. So, I whipped out my coin purse and got me some—well, once I had purchased some crafting material. I was amazed that it only took a moment, and then smack! I had the new armor. I would have thought that it would take a day or two to make, and that I would have to come back. I destroyed the old stuff; the armor crafter said it could not be used anymore. I don’t get why not, but I guess that’s just the way it is.
As I left—alone—I was warned about the aggressive plants in the Plains of Jarin. I didn’t believe it, and my suspicions were confirmed. I actually ran past a lot of them. Patted a few on the head, although I avoided the floating radishes because they looked like they might sting a little. Maybe my new armor sent a signal to them that they should simply treat me with a little respect. /flex
It took about half a day for me to make it to the Sunspear Great Hall. I could have gotten there in a shorter period, but I found it irresistible to not take my time and simply explore the land. The savannah captivated me. Rolling hills. Big sky. Still air. I find myself wishing to explore this entire continent, to map out every last mile.
It took about five minutes in the Sunspear Great Hall to know I didn’t want to stay long. It was only a courtyard. I could not gain entrance to see what that monolithic structure hid within. Aside from the sculptures of spears and shields, the place held nothing special for me. I gave no one my name, and quickly left.
Not two hundred yards from the walls of the hall I came across a party of four adventurers—well, three adventurers and one recently killed paragon. I could see they needed help, surrounded by a mob of mandragor slithers, bladed termites, and preying lances. It was a nasty little fray; even the monk took hit after hit. I stood outside and away, casting spears and calling out shouts: Aria of Restoration and Anthem of Flame.
From where I stood, I could see the weakest monsters, so called out a prime target. The warrior and ranger heard, and focused their attacks. The monk slowly backed away, healing like a madman. Once he was back and safe, he gave me a quick nod and called the next target. I followed his lead. Really it didn’t take long from there. The beasties fell quickly, and once the last was down, the monk immediately began to cast Rebirth on the fallen Paragon.
With a flashing spike of gold the paragon teleported to the monk, alive and standing. No sooner had the monk finished his spell, than he turned on the grinning paragon and decked him full on in the chin. The paragon spun to the ground and landed on the side of his face.
“What are you thinking!” the monk shouted. “Rushing into that mob like that!”
The paragon leapt up, his eyes wide and his jaw clenched. He stepped forward as if to rush the monk, but fell again as the ranger—coming from behind—kicked his feet out from under him. The warrior sheathed her sword with a decisive clank and laughed.
“We won’t last a day with you around,” the monk said. He stood over the paragon.
“I simply engaged them,” the paragon said. Although he tried, he failed at looking menacing—mostly because of how he rubbed the side of his head where it had hit the dirt.
“Yes, engaged them by rushing in dozens of yards ahead of us, not stopping to consider that another mob was nearby. You have no idea what your role is, and I don’t have time to teach you.” He shook his head and pointed back at the Great Hall. “You’re not part of this group. Go back and find some other fools to travel with.”
The paragon started to object, but the monk moved as if to kick him, and he quickly scrambled away, stopping only to nab his shield out of the grass. The group watched until he was over the nearest hill, and once the last bit of dust had settled, they turned as one to face me.
I didn’t know what to do, so simply smiled and gave a little wave.
The monk held out his hand, and said, “Welcome to our group. I’m Bruck Broadbone, leader.”
HezekiahKurtz
Thanks for the input. Here is the next entry.
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I awoke this morning with my ink spilled on the ground next to me, and my journal laying face down on my chest. I did not realize I was so tired as to fall asleep while writing.
After Bruck introduced himself and invited mo to join the party, I asked, “Are our paths headed in the same direction?”
Bruck shrugged. “Well, where are you going.”
I shook my head. “I am just exploring. Going nowhere in particular at the moment.”
“Well then, you’ll fit well with us—at least for now. We’re doing the same. We plan to clear out this area today, and spend the night in the Astralarium. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Very well—at least for now.”
Bruck introduced the warrior—a lithe young woman who only smiled out from under her eyelashes and nodded—as Kandra Westran. She must be twenty-two or twenty-three; younger than me by a year or two. I don’t know if I will ever get used to women such as her: a slim, shapely figure that would make any man stare; a face of innocence and wide eyes; and a way of carrying a sword that left little doubt as to her ability to use it. Multiple colors of blood smattered her dented armor and shield, telling a story of countless unfortunate enemies.
The ranger stood about a foot taller than me. Scars crossed his bearded face. Though I perceived no danger, he kept his bow in hand, an arrow ready. He must be ten or fifteen years my senior, although it’s certainly hard to tell his exact age. The best clue to his personality is in his eyes. They stare hard, cold, tight—surrounded by fine lines. He stepped up to me, and clasped my wrist in his free hand. “Wez Uly. Melandru’s blessings be upon you, so long as you don’t do anything that will get us killed.”
I nodded in greeting. “I am Jehoaz.” That is the name I had previously decided to go by. “Glad to be with you.”
And as the day progressed, I really did become glad to be with them. There was a marked increase in the strength and aggressiveness of the beasts as we explored the wetland. I would not have been able to make it on my own. It did not take long for me to understand Bruck’s pointing, shouting, and motioning. My role as a support figure became clear, and I very quickly settled into a rhythm of using skills in quick sequence. I feel like I have a place among these three. I’m surprised at how much I have missed it.
I quickly realized that Bruck led the party with no help, and would not put up with any degree of mutiny. When we engaged beasties he would motion for Kandra to go in first, and then the location where Wez and I should attack from. Once I decided to position myself in a different place, on slightly higher ground.
“Not there you fool!” Bruck shouted. He pointed vigorously at a spot about fifteen feet to my left. “Get there now!” His tone commanded immediate obedience.
We first spotted the Astralarium from a distance. Its two towers reached high over the land and ocean. We made our way toward it, zig-zagging back-and-forth. About every thirty minutes Bruck would pull out a sizeable piece of parchment and make a few marks with a crude instrument.
“What is he doing?” I said to Wez as we waited at the entrance to the Astralarium. Bruck stood a small ways off, looking East and marking his paper.
He gave me a wide look. “He’s marking a map.”
“A map?”
“He’s been doing it ever since we left Kamadan this morning.”
Other than the impressive warthog we saw that day, very little else of note happened. I am awed with this small astronomic outpost. The ethereal devices draw my mind to the Gods and their matchless power. I wish I could climb to the topmost tower to look out over the land and ocean.
Ah, I almost forgot. There is something I found very odd. Last night I approached a grizzled old merchant and began unloading the loot I had collected throughout the day. We had a strange conversation.
“You are Tyrian,” he said to me. His sunken eyes did not blink as he looked up at me.
I nodded curtly, and offered him a rather ugly sword.
He gave me two gold pieces. “Tyrian . . . Tyrian . . . .” he whispered to himself, as if considering the meaning of the word. I almost didn’t hear it. Louder, he said, “Have you been here long?”
I nodded, and gave him a half-eaten boot.
He handed me four gold. “What is your—.”
“You talk a lot, old man.” He was making me uncomfortable, and I wondered if Guel had been through here. I held out a few bits of copper. It surprised me when he handed me two pieces of gold in return; I always thought gold was worth more than copper.
He narrowed his eyes. “Just being friendly, my boy. Just friendly.” He motioned behind me. “I see you are with Bruck.”
“You know him?”
He either chuckled or coughed—I couldn’t tell. “Oh, yes, yes. Everyone knows Bruck.”
“Why is that?”
“You might say he has . . . been to this place before.”
“How—.”
“You ask a lot of questions, young man.” And with that, he turned to another customer.
I found the entire exchange perplexing, but haven’t had a chance to ask anyone about it. We are off, now, heading into Zehlon Reach.
__________________________________________________ _______________
I awoke this morning with my ink spilled on the ground next to me, and my journal laying face down on my chest. I did not realize I was so tired as to fall asleep while writing.
After Bruck introduced himself and invited mo to join the party, I asked, “Are our paths headed in the same direction?”
Bruck shrugged. “Well, where are you going.”
I shook my head. “I am just exploring. Going nowhere in particular at the moment.”
“Well then, you’ll fit well with us—at least for now. We’re doing the same. We plan to clear out this area today, and spend the night in the Astralarium. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Very well—at least for now.”
Bruck introduced the warrior—a lithe young woman who only smiled out from under her eyelashes and nodded—as Kandra Westran. She must be twenty-two or twenty-three; younger than me by a year or two. I don’t know if I will ever get used to women such as her: a slim, shapely figure that would make any man stare; a face of innocence and wide eyes; and a way of carrying a sword that left little doubt as to her ability to use it. Multiple colors of blood smattered her dented armor and shield, telling a story of countless unfortunate enemies.
The ranger stood about a foot taller than me. Scars crossed his bearded face. Though I perceived no danger, he kept his bow in hand, an arrow ready. He must be ten or fifteen years my senior, although it’s certainly hard to tell his exact age. The best clue to his personality is in his eyes. They stare hard, cold, tight—surrounded by fine lines. He stepped up to me, and clasped my wrist in his free hand. “Wez Uly. Melandru’s blessings be upon you, so long as you don’t do anything that will get us killed.”
I nodded in greeting. “I am Jehoaz.” That is the name I had previously decided to go by. “Glad to be with you.”
And as the day progressed, I really did become glad to be with them. There was a marked increase in the strength and aggressiveness of the beasts as we explored the wetland. I would not have been able to make it on my own. It did not take long for me to understand Bruck’s pointing, shouting, and motioning. My role as a support figure became clear, and I very quickly settled into a rhythm of using skills in quick sequence. I feel like I have a place among these three. I’m surprised at how much I have missed it.
I quickly realized that Bruck led the party with no help, and would not put up with any degree of mutiny. When we engaged beasties he would motion for Kandra to go in first, and then the location where Wez and I should attack from. Once I decided to position myself in a different place, on slightly higher ground.
“Not there you fool!” Bruck shouted. He pointed vigorously at a spot about fifteen feet to my left. “Get there now!” His tone commanded immediate obedience.
We first spotted the Astralarium from a distance. Its two towers reached high over the land and ocean. We made our way toward it, zig-zagging back-and-forth. About every thirty minutes Bruck would pull out a sizeable piece of parchment and make a few marks with a crude instrument.
“What is he doing?” I said to Wez as we waited at the entrance to the Astralarium. Bruck stood a small ways off, looking East and marking his paper.
He gave me a wide look. “He’s marking a map.”
“A map?”
“He’s been doing it ever since we left Kamadan this morning.”
Other than the impressive warthog we saw that day, very little else of note happened. I am awed with this small astronomic outpost. The ethereal devices draw my mind to the Gods and their matchless power. I wish I could climb to the topmost tower to look out over the land and ocean.
Ah, I almost forgot. There is something I found very odd. Last night I approached a grizzled old merchant and began unloading the loot I had collected throughout the day. We had a strange conversation.
“You are Tyrian,” he said to me. His sunken eyes did not blink as he looked up at me.
I nodded curtly, and offered him a rather ugly sword.
He gave me two gold pieces. “Tyrian . . . Tyrian . . . .” he whispered to himself, as if considering the meaning of the word. I almost didn’t hear it. Louder, he said, “Have you been here long?”
I nodded, and gave him a half-eaten boot.
He handed me four gold. “What is your—.”
“You talk a lot, old man.” He was making me uncomfortable, and I wondered if Guel had been through here. I held out a few bits of copper. It surprised me when he handed me two pieces of gold in return; I always thought gold was worth more than copper.
He narrowed his eyes. “Just being friendly, my boy. Just friendly.” He motioned behind me. “I see you are with Bruck.”
“You know him?”
He either chuckled or coughed—I couldn’t tell. “Oh, yes, yes. Everyone knows Bruck.”
“Why is that?”
“You might say he has . . . been to this place before.”
“How—.”
“You ask a lot of questions, young man.” And with that, he turned to another customer.
I found the entire exchange perplexing, but haven’t had a chance to ask anyone about it. We are off, now, heading into Zehlon Reach.
Perynne
Very nice. Easy and pleasant to read, and interesting enough to keep me waiting for the next part. 
HezekiahKurtz
Thanks for the input. Just in case anyone cares, I plan on this taking as many as 100 journal entries.
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Colossus 41, 1275 DR, Evening
I died rather unexpectedly today.
We had recently cleared a mob near a fisherman named Lendu, and were talking with him about a giant sea monster when a mandragor slither popped up. I only had time to wonder if we had inadvertently agreed to help Lendu before I felt some rather extraordinary pain in my back. The next moment I lay dead, and my spirit rose slowly up and way from my corpse. It embarrassed me how I lay there—face up with my mouth and eyes wide in shock. Fortunately Bruck rezzed me in half a whip of a Charr’s tail, and I could help kill the offending beastie.
We turned back to Lendu, agreed to help him if we could. As we started to walk away, Wez stepped up to my side.
“Thank him.”
“Huh?”
“Thank him. He brought you back to life. Thank him.”
“That’s his job. He’s the monk. He rezzes us when we die.”
“He didn’t have to bring you back.”
“It’s his job. It’s your job to shoot arrows and pin down enemies. I don’t thank you when you do that. He doesn’t thank me when I throw my spear.”
“This is different. He brought you back to life, for Melandru’s sake.”
“It’s his job.”
“Thank him.”
“That’s silly.”
“You know, little boy—”
“Don’t call me that.”
He yanked on my sleeve and stopped walking. I halted with him. I could not pull my eyes from his.
“I’m old enough to be your father. When you’re acting like a child, I’ll call you that. Listen to me. Not only is he the party leader, he is the monk. The monk is not like other members of the party. If you don’t treat them right, you’ll pay. It’ll be subtle, but it’ll happen. Especially with this one.”
“You two have a problem?” We looked up at Bruck, who stood thirty paces on, knee deep in water. No sea monsters were in sight.
“I don’t,” Wez said, and started walking again—but not without raising his eyebrows at me first.
The rest of the day continued . . . I would like to say uneventfully, but that certainly isn’t the case. No one died, and nothing earth-searing happened; I found very little about Zehlon Reach worth mentioning, although the docks in the middle of nowhere took me by surprise. We traveled through the northern half of the land. Bruck continued to mark up his map. Ridgeback scales and scale lashers teemed over the land and water, but we rarely found ourselves in any true danger, even against larger mobs.
It many respects it was uneventful, but I also found it fun to simply plow through mindless beasts and weakling pirates. We found little need to speak as we fell into a rhythm, sensing without words when other party members were ready to engage, understanding the commands of the party leader without ever hearing his voice, and knowing when to provide what support to our comrades. We flowed from skirmish to skirmish, our health and energy ebbing and flowing with the usage and recharge of skills, our adrenaline carrying us throughout the day and killing any need for rest or food. Monsters fell before us like practice dummies.
It surprises me how easily the four of us work together. It is good to be in a strong group, again.
We decided to stay tonight in a small village in the northwest corner of Zehlon Reach. I have no idea what its name is.
__________________________________________________ _______________
Colossus 41, 1275 DR, Evening
I died rather unexpectedly today.
We had recently cleared a mob near a fisherman named Lendu, and were talking with him about a giant sea monster when a mandragor slither popped up. I only had time to wonder if we had inadvertently agreed to help Lendu before I felt some rather extraordinary pain in my back. The next moment I lay dead, and my spirit rose slowly up and way from my corpse. It embarrassed me how I lay there—face up with my mouth and eyes wide in shock. Fortunately Bruck rezzed me in half a whip of a Charr’s tail, and I could help kill the offending beastie.
We turned back to Lendu, agreed to help him if we could. As we started to walk away, Wez stepped up to my side.
“Thank him.”
“Huh?”
“Thank him. He brought you back to life. Thank him.”
“That’s his job. He’s the monk. He rezzes us when we die.”
“He didn’t have to bring you back.”
“It’s his job. It’s your job to shoot arrows and pin down enemies. I don’t thank you when you do that. He doesn’t thank me when I throw my spear.”
“This is different. He brought you back to life, for Melandru’s sake.”
“It’s his job.”
“Thank him.”
“That’s silly.”
“You know, little boy—”
“Don’t call me that.”
He yanked on my sleeve and stopped walking. I halted with him. I could not pull my eyes from his.
“I’m old enough to be your father. When you’re acting like a child, I’ll call you that. Listen to me. Not only is he the party leader, he is the monk. The monk is not like other members of the party. If you don’t treat them right, you’ll pay. It’ll be subtle, but it’ll happen. Especially with this one.”
“You two have a problem?” We looked up at Bruck, who stood thirty paces on, knee deep in water. No sea monsters were in sight.
“I don’t,” Wez said, and started walking again—but not without raising his eyebrows at me first.
The rest of the day continued . . . I would like to say uneventfully, but that certainly isn’t the case. No one died, and nothing earth-searing happened; I found very little about Zehlon Reach worth mentioning, although the docks in the middle of nowhere took me by surprise. We traveled through the northern half of the land. Bruck continued to mark up his map. Ridgeback scales and scale lashers teemed over the land and water, but we rarely found ourselves in any true danger, even against larger mobs.
It many respects it was uneventful, but I also found it fun to simply plow through mindless beasts and weakling pirates. We found little need to speak as we fell into a rhythm, sensing without words when other party members were ready to engage, understanding the commands of the party leader without ever hearing his voice, and knowing when to provide what support to our comrades. We flowed from skirmish to skirmish, our health and energy ebbing and flowing with the usage and recharge of skills, our adrenaline carrying us throughout the day and killing any need for rest or food. Monsters fell before us like practice dummies.
It surprises me how easily the four of us work together. It is good to be in a strong group, again.
We decided to stay tonight in a small village in the northwest corner of Zehlon Reach. I have no idea what its name is.
TomD22
Quote:
Originally Posted by HezekiahKurtz
I died rather unexpectedly today.
As an opening line, that's just great 
HezekiahKurtz
Colossus 42, 1275 DR
I am not sure what to make of Kandra. Well, I am not sure what to make of any of them other than I know we work well together—but Kandra is different than any person I have ever met. Today she initiated a conversation with me—if you could call it that. It’s the first time I remember her starting a conversation with anyone.
We finished exploring Kehlon Reach today. In general it remained as non-descript as the rest of the area. The one exception was the ancient ruins that stood on one shore near the western edge. We had heard from the locals of a djinn known as the Lady of the Dead, whom they spoke of with fear. While she had always guarded the ruins, as of late she had terrorized the land, slaughtering animals and killing villagers at will. The few that had dared to oppose her had either returned brutally maimed or had not come back at all.
From a distance we spotted her hovering near the columns. She floated several feet off the ground, guarding the area with a menacing eye. Upon seeing us she immediately raised her bardiche—the only thing about her that did not appear ghostly. Unusually, rather barreling straight in, Kandra motioned that she would circle the ruins and attack from behind.
“When I see that you are ready, I will distract it,” Wez said as she waded off.
We backed up a bit, fanning out. The Lady swung her weapon as if testing its weight, and watched us for a moment, then turned to look back into the grove of pillars.
Wez let an arrow fly, striking the djinn in the shoulder. With a roar it reached back and yanked the arrow out. Turning around and taking a few steps into the water, she threw the arrow toward us. It fell well short. I can only imagine what vulgar words the Lady called out in her metallic language as she swatted the water with her blade; the spray sparkled in the evening sunlight.
For a moment I saw Kandra between the pillars, and then she disappeared again.
Wez drew another arrow and held it. The Lady floated still, watching with her glowing blue eyes. Wez took a deep breath, and did not let it out. An instant before he released, Kandra started to dart from among the pillars. With a twang the arrow whizzed through the air, but this time the djinn was ready. It dodged to the side and gnashed its teeth. Fifteen feet beyond the Lady, the arrow struck a column not three feet above Kandra’s head and shattered.
She closed the gap, and with water splashing before her, she struck at the Lady’s back. I shouted out Anthem of Flame as Bruck cast Healing Hands on Kandra and as Wez shot a Concussion Shot. For nearly a minute it appeared that the fight would go as usual—Kandra blocking with her shield and counter-striking, and the rest of us supporting as best we could. She moved quickly, shouting and grunting as she dodged and parried; she made it look easy to take blow after blow on the shield, or to stop one with her blade. Occasionally, a shrill challenge or war cry left her lips.
Above the din I heard a deep growl—which was all the warning we had before a tall, slender, rinkhal monitor darted out from among the pillars and struck at Kandra’s legs with its long, whip-like arms. Unprepared, she fell sideways, and her head disappeared beneath the shallow water. The light from Bruck’s healing spells, coupled with the Lady’s eerie glow, illuminated the water with dancing blue.
I darted forward, casting spears as fast as I could.
“Get back here!” Bruch shouted.
I ignored him. Although the arrows and spears rained on the back of the Lady, her attention—and weapon—focused on the water beneath her. The reptilian beast lashed and bit. It took only a few seconds for me to reach the group, and by then I could hear Bruck healing frantically. Occasionally I saw Kandra’s hand or face breach the water’s surface between the creatures.
I leapt into the midst of the fray. Squatting and raising my shield over my head, I reached down into the water to grab any part of her that I could. I heard and felt the beating of the Lady’s weapon on my shield, and felt a sharp lashing at my legs. Everything was a mess of splashing water. Twice I felt something brush my hand, and then the third time my hand closed around her arm. With a grunt I pulled back and up. Vaguely I saw Wez directly opposite me, gaining the attention of the reptile and Lady. Water spilled down around Kandra’s head and face as I brought her up. As she stumbled to her feet she yanked her arm out of my grasp and gasped for air. Not waiting, but coughing once, she cursed and gripped her sword with both hands and charged the Lady.
The fierceness of her attack—one would not think that she had just spent fifteen seconds taking a beating under water—quickly ended the battle. The Lady, already weakened, fell first. The lizard shortly followed.
As the water settled around us, illuminated on one side by the fading Lady’s body, and colored red on the other with reptile blood, I struggled to catch my breath and looked at Kandra. She stood panting hard, her teeth clamped and her angry eyes glaring down at her fallen foes. She still held her sword as if ready to strike. I could hear Bruck approaching from behind.
“Blighted char dung!” Kandra said. Then she did strike—one last time at the lizard’s head.
“You idiot!” Bruck shouted. “Never ever go in like that!”
I turned to face him, remembering how the other Paragon had been booted from the party just two days before. Although I did not like it, I found myself taking a defensive stance. “She never would have survived. I did what I had to.”
He shook his head and frowned. His eyes smoldered with the clear effort of containing his anger. “Listen, you’re no idiot—most of the time. But you‘ve got to use your head all the time. Yes, her life was in danger in the short term, but you’ve got to remember that I can bring her back. It’s okay if she dies. But if you had died, too—and Wez . . . .” He shot a reproving glance at the ranger. “The more of us that are dead, the harder it is for me to bring you all back safely.”
He was right. I had no argument against his statement, so simply nodded and looked down.
“You’ve got to keep your head,” Bruck said. “No panicking!”
I nodded again.
“Never again!”
“I get it!”
He stared at me for a few moments, weighing my sincerity, then turned and started south.
A few hours later, in the darkness of evening as we camped in the Jokanur Diggings, I sat looking away from the fire, into the dark surrounding courtyard. From behind I heard someone approached me.
“Thank you.” It was Kandra.
Somewhat surprised, I turned to look at her; in the few days I’d been in the group, she hadn’t said two words to me without me speaking to her first. She stood in front of the fire. Orange light outlined her form, made her face and body a black shadow.
“Bruck was right. I put us all in danger.”
“I appreciate it nonetheless.” She bent ever so slightly, her hand twitching, but then turned away. She took a place opposite the fire, and started to hum quietly to herself.
I am not sure what to make of Kandra. Well, I am not sure what to make of any of them other than I know we work well together—but Kandra is different than any person I have ever met. Today she initiated a conversation with me—if you could call it that. It’s the first time I remember her starting a conversation with anyone.
We finished exploring Kehlon Reach today. In general it remained as non-descript as the rest of the area. The one exception was the ancient ruins that stood on one shore near the western edge. We had heard from the locals of a djinn known as the Lady of the Dead, whom they spoke of with fear. While she had always guarded the ruins, as of late she had terrorized the land, slaughtering animals and killing villagers at will. The few that had dared to oppose her had either returned brutally maimed or had not come back at all.
From a distance we spotted her hovering near the columns. She floated several feet off the ground, guarding the area with a menacing eye. Upon seeing us she immediately raised her bardiche—the only thing about her that did not appear ghostly. Unusually, rather barreling straight in, Kandra motioned that she would circle the ruins and attack from behind.
“When I see that you are ready, I will distract it,” Wez said as she waded off.
We backed up a bit, fanning out. The Lady swung her weapon as if testing its weight, and watched us for a moment, then turned to look back into the grove of pillars.
Wez let an arrow fly, striking the djinn in the shoulder. With a roar it reached back and yanked the arrow out. Turning around and taking a few steps into the water, she threw the arrow toward us. It fell well short. I can only imagine what vulgar words the Lady called out in her metallic language as she swatted the water with her blade; the spray sparkled in the evening sunlight.
For a moment I saw Kandra between the pillars, and then she disappeared again.
Wez drew another arrow and held it. The Lady floated still, watching with her glowing blue eyes. Wez took a deep breath, and did not let it out. An instant before he released, Kandra started to dart from among the pillars. With a twang the arrow whizzed through the air, but this time the djinn was ready. It dodged to the side and gnashed its teeth. Fifteen feet beyond the Lady, the arrow struck a column not three feet above Kandra’s head and shattered.
She closed the gap, and with water splashing before her, she struck at the Lady’s back. I shouted out Anthem of Flame as Bruck cast Healing Hands on Kandra and as Wez shot a Concussion Shot. For nearly a minute it appeared that the fight would go as usual—Kandra blocking with her shield and counter-striking, and the rest of us supporting as best we could. She moved quickly, shouting and grunting as she dodged and parried; she made it look easy to take blow after blow on the shield, or to stop one with her blade. Occasionally, a shrill challenge or war cry left her lips.
Above the din I heard a deep growl—which was all the warning we had before a tall, slender, rinkhal monitor darted out from among the pillars and struck at Kandra’s legs with its long, whip-like arms. Unprepared, she fell sideways, and her head disappeared beneath the shallow water. The light from Bruck’s healing spells, coupled with the Lady’s eerie glow, illuminated the water with dancing blue.
I darted forward, casting spears as fast as I could.
“Get back here!” Bruch shouted.
I ignored him. Although the arrows and spears rained on the back of the Lady, her attention—and weapon—focused on the water beneath her. The reptilian beast lashed and bit. It took only a few seconds for me to reach the group, and by then I could hear Bruck healing frantically. Occasionally I saw Kandra’s hand or face breach the water’s surface between the creatures.
I leapt into the midst of the fray. Squatting and raising my shield over my head, I reached down into the water to grab any part of her that I could. I heard and felt the beating of the Lady’s weapon on my shield, and felt a sharp lashing at my legs. Everything was a mess of splashing water. Twice I felt something brush my hand, and then the third time my hand closed around her arm. With a grunt I pulled back and up. Vaguely I saw Wez directly opposite me, gaining the attention of the reptile and Lady. Water spilled down around Kandra’s head and face as I brought her up. As she stumbled to her feet she yanked her arm out of my grasp and gasped for air. Not waiting, but coughing once, she cursed and gripped her sword with both hands and charged the Lady.
The fierceness of her attack—one would not think that she had just spent fifteen seconds taking a beating under water—quickly ended the battle. The Lady, already weakened, fell first. The lizard shortly followed.
As the water settled around us, illuminated on one side by the fading Lady’s body, and colored red on the other with reptile blood, I struggled to catch my breath and looked at Kandra. She stood panting hard, her teeth clamped and her angry eyes glaring down at her fallen foes. She still held her sword as if ready to strike. I could hear Bruck approaching from behind.
“Blighted char dung!” Kandra said. Then she did strike—one last time at the lizard’s head.
“You idiot!” Bruck shouted. “Never ever go in like that!”
I turned to face him, remembering how the other Paragon had been booted from the party just two days before. Although I did not like it, I found myself taking a defensive stance. “She never would have survived. I did what I had to.”
He shook his head and frowned. His eyes smoldered with the clear effort of containing his anger. “Listen, you’re no idiot—most of the time. But you‘ve got to use your head all the time. Yes, her life was in danger in the short term, but you’ve got to remember that I can bring her back. It’s okay if she dies. But if you had died, too—and Wez . . . .” He shot a reproving glance at the ranger. “The more of us that are dead, the harder it is for me to bring you all back safely.”
He was right. I had no argument against his statement, so simply nodded and looked down.
“You’ve got to keep your head,” Bruck said. “No panicking!”
I nodded again.
“Never again!”
“I get it!”
He stared at me for a few moments, weighing my sincerity, then turned and started south.
A few hours later, in the darkness of evening as we camped in the Jokanur Diggings, I sat looking away from the fire, into the dark surrounding courtyard. From behind I heard someone approached me.
“Thank you.” It was Kandra.
Somewhat surprised, I turned to look at her; in the few days I’d been in the group, she hadn’t said two words to me without me speaking to her first. She stood in front of the fire. Orange light outlined her form, made her face and body a black shadow.
“Bruck was right. I put us all in danger.”
“I appreciate it nonetheless.” She bent ever so slightly, her hand twitching, but then turned away. She took a place opposite the fire, and started to hum quietly to herself.
HezekiahKurtz
Colossus 43, 1275 DR
This morning the first words out of Bruck’s mouth were: “We’ve got to go back. We need to go back to Champion’s Dawn through the Cliffs of Dohjok.”
He and I stood in Jokanur Diggings, at the door of the tent our party had rented for the night. The early morning sunlight danced and glistened off of the tools of the men who clanked and tapped and brushed away on the rickety scaffolding. They worked to unearth a gigantic stone head. Something like an upright canoe framed the rear of the bald head. Two eyes, and half of a nose poked up out of the ground.
Wez stepped between us, out of the tent and walked off.
“What’s there?” I asked.
“Probably nothing.”
“So why are we going there?”
“I always go there.”
“Always?”
He turned his head slightly toward me and grunted; I guess it was a laugh. “You don’t know about me, do you?”
Such a direct question surprised me. “There’s something I should have heard about you?”
Kandra stepped past us, into the sunlight. We both watched her walk away for a moment; it’s really something we couldn’t help.
“I’ve been around this place a time or two. Grew up in Kamadan. The land we’ve been through since Kamadan is practically my backyard. I remember when these ruins were first discovered. People were excited.”
“So you travel through here often?”
“I travel through everywhere often.”
“Everywhere?”
He turned to give me a long, solid look. “I’ve seen it all. Seen all of Elona. Every bit of this island. Every mile of Kourna. All of Vabbi.”
“You’re a cartographer? That’s why you mark that map?”
This time he let out a real, full laugh; it was the only noise in the area aside from the workers tapping away with their tools. A bird in a nearby tree took flight. “No that’s not why I mark up the map. I sure don’t have to; I know the land. I’ve been through it eight times.”
“Eight times!”
“In eight years.”
“That’s—.”
“Crazy, yes. Let’s go.”
I had never heard of the cliffs, and I think now that perhaps it is because they feel like holy ground—so sacred that one does not speak of them out of fear that others will visit them, desecrate their sanctity. They face the ocean in a half-moon of scaffolding, tattered tents, and sheer stone faces. Trees line the top of the rocks, practically melding into each other to form a glowing green halo over the beach. Broken wooden barricades poke from the ground like fingers of dead soldiers never quite buried entirely. No living thing moved there. It was only us four—and we stood still in reverence.
“Many invasions have started and ended here,” Bruck said. He spoke so softly that I almost couldn’t hear him over the swell of the ocean. “There is no need to read books about it—to know the history. Just being here is enough to know it.”
The air moved slowly past my ears; a shiver ran down my spine.
Bruck continued. “I can hear them calling to me. Those that have fallen here, defending and assaulting. I see their ships making the shore; the trebuchets firing burning oil from the cliffs. I see the walls of flame, and the spouts of ocean. I hear the beat of sword on shield; the crush of stone on bone.”
I am not sure how long he kept us there, listening and watching, imagining the things around us. It must have been a long time—we didn’t make it to Champion’s Dawn until well after dark—but it felt like only a few moments.
This morning the first words out of Bruck’s mouth were: “We’ve got to go back. We need to go back to Champion’s Dawn through the Cliffs of Dohjok.”
He and I stood in Jokanur Diggings, at the door of the tent our party had rented for the night. The early morning sunlight danced and glistened off of the tools of the men who clanked and tapped and brushed away on the rickety scaffolding. They worked to unearth a gigantic stone head. Something like an upright canoe framed the rear of the bald head. Two eyes, and half of a nose poked up out of the ground.
Wez stepped between us, out of the tent and walked off.
“What’s there?” I asked.
“Probably nothing.”
“So why are we going there?”
“I always go there.”
“Always?”
He turned his head slightly toward me and grunted; I guess it was a laugh. “You don’t know about me, do you?”
Such a direct question surprised me. “There’s something I should have heard about you?”
Kandra stepped past us, into the sunlight. We both watched her walk away for a moment; it’s really something we couldn’t help.
“I’ve been around this place a time or two. Grew up in Kamadan. The land we’ve been through since Kamadan is practically my backyard. I remember when these ruins were first discovered. People were excited.”
“So you travel through here often?”
“I travel through everywhere often.”
“Everywhere?”
He turned to give me a long, solid look. “I’ve seen it all. Seen all of Elona. Every bit of this island. Every mile of Kourna. All of Vabbi.”
“You’re a cartographer? That’s why you mark that map?”
This time he let out a real, full laugh; it was the only noise in the area aside from the workers tapping away with their tools. A bird in a nearby tree took flight. “No that’s not why I mark up the map. I sure don’t have to; I know the land. I’ve been through it eight times.”
“Eight times!”
“In eight years.”
“That’s—.”
“Crazy, yes. Let’s go.”
I had never heard of the cliffs, and I think now that perhaps it is because they feel like holy ground—so sacred that one does not speak of them out of fear that others will visit them, desecrate their sanctity. They face the ocean in a half-moon of scaffolding, tattered tents, and sheer stone faces. Trees line the top of the rocks, practically melding into each other to form a glowing green halo over the beach. Broken wooden barricades poke from the ground like fingers of dead soldiers never quite buried entirely. No living thing moved there. It was only us four—and we stood still in reverence.
“Many invasions have started and ended here,” Bruck said. He spoke so softly that I almost couldn’t hear him over the swell of the ocean. “There is no need to read books about it—to know the history. Just being here is enough to know it.”
The air moved slowly past my ears; a shiver ran down my spine.
Bruck continued. “I can hear them calling to me. Those that have fallen here, defending and assaulting. I see their ships making the shore; the trebuchets firing burning oil from the cliffs. I see the walls of flame, and the spouts of ocean. I hear the beat of sword on shield; the crush of stone on bone.”
I am not sure how long he kept us there, listening and watching, imagining the things around us. It must have been a long time—we didn’t make it to Champion’s Dawn until well after dark—but it felt like only a few moments.
Hypernecrofear
Need... more...
The Slick Rainbow
Quote:
Originally Posted by Hypernecrofear
Need... more...
I second that...
Dross
Definitely need more. You're a good writer.
Elite Yakuza Yuki
Interesting
HezekiahKurtz
Oops, I forgot to post this last night.
Thank for all of the positive comments. They really do mean a lot. Comments on what you like, specifically, or what you think could use improvement, would be fabulous.
__________________________________________________ _________________
Colossus 44, 1275 DR
I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but after today I cannot imagine I should look forward to it.
We headed back through the cliffs area—skirting well around the beachfront—to the diggings, staying only long enough to replenish a few supplies.
I had expected to enter the city, but did not know if we would—Bruck never discusses his plans with us. I had heard talk of it being a place of shadows and skulking, reek and slime, and looked forward to seeing if it were true. But I never found out.
We just stayed outside the front of the city, moving back-and-forth along the wall and the chasm. We must have covered the same ground three or four times. Bruck could not stand still. Even when we stopped he paced constantly, glancing at the city walls or distant statues, and then looking quickly away. I could not avoid thinking he was nervous to enter the city. That’s unnerving, considering he’s supposedly been all over this continent.
We returned to the diggings long before sunset.
“What’s going on with Bruck?” I asked Wez. We sat on a boulder watching the diggers. It looked like they had unearthed hardly anything in the past two days.
“Acted odd today, didn’t he?”
“What’s in the city?”
He shrugged and looked down. “Dark things. I have been there before. It’s nothing we can’t handle—unless things have changed in the last few years.”
“Are you a cartographer, too?”
“No, no, no. I have never left Istan.”
“But you’ve seen all of Istan.”
“Oh, yes. Many times over.”
Kandra walked up to us, hopped up onto the boulder, and sat next to me. She draped her arms over her knees.
“Have you been in the city?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I am not like our friend, here.” She motioned vaguely at Wez. “In comparison to him, I am something of a n00b.”
“Where is your home?”
“Kamadan.”
“So you have heard of the city?”
She nodded.
“What’s in there?”
She shrugged. “Nothing to be afraid of. I don’t know what’s eating Bruck. I’m beginning to think he’s a lunatic.”
“Not to mention yesterday at the mines,” Wez said.
“The mines?” I asked.
Wez chimed in. “Those cliffs where Bruck stopped for half the day. There’s never been a battle there that I know of, and Bruck talked like there had been many. I’m beginning to doubt his sanity, too.”
“There’s never been a battle there? No invasions by ship?”
“Not one—not in recent memory.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, that’s what we mean when we say he’s not making much sense the last two days.”
We sat in silence for another hour as the daylight faded. Perhaps tomorrow when we enter the city, everything will become clear.
Thank for all of the positive comments. They really do mean a lot. Comments on what you like, specifically, or what you think could use improvement, would be fabulous.
__________________________________________________ _________________
Colossus 44, 1275 DR
I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but after today I cannot imagine I should look forward to it.
We headed back through the cliffs area—skirting well around the beachfront—to the diggings, staying only long enough to replenish a few supplies.
I had expected to enter the city, but did not know if we would—Bruck never discusses his plans with us. I had heard talk of it being a place of shadows and skulking, reek and slime, and looked forward to seeing if it were true. But I never found out.
We just stayed outside the front of the city, moving back-and-forth along the wall and the chasm. We must have covered the same ground three or four times. Bruck could not stand still. Even when we stopped he paced constantly, glancing at the city walls or distant statues, and then looking quickly away. I could not avoid thinking he was nervous to enter the city. That’s unnerving, considering he’s supposedly been all over this continent.
We returned to the diggings long before sunset.
“What’s going on with Bruck?” I asked Wez. We sat on a boulder watching the diggers. It looked like they had unearthed hardly anything in the past two days.
“Acted odd today, didn’t he?”
“What’s in the city?”
He shrugged and looked down. “Dark things. I have been there before. It’s nothing we can’t handle—unless things have changed in the last few years.”
“Are you a cartographer, too?”
“No, no, no. I have never left Istan.”
“But you’ve seen all of Istan.”
“Oh, yes. Many times over.”
Kandra walked up to us, hopped up onto the boulder, and sat next to me. She draped her arms over her knees.
“Have you been in the city?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I am not like our friend, here.” She motioned vaguely at Wez. “In comparison to him, I am something of a n00b.”
“Where is your home?”
“Kamadan.”
“So you have heard of the city?”
She nodded.
“What’s in there?”
She shrugged. “Nothing to be afraid of. I don’t know what’s eating Bruck. I’m beginning to think he’s a lunatic.”
“Not to mention yesterday at the mines,” Wez said.
“The mines?” I asked.
Wez chimed in. “Those cliffs where Bruck stopped for half the day. There’s never been a battle there that I know of, and Bruck talked like there had been many. I’m beginning to doubt his sanity, too.”
“There’s never been a battle there? No invasions by ship?”
“Not one—not in recent memory.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, that’s what we mean when we say he’s not making much sense the last two days.”
We sat in silence for another hour as the daylight faded. Perhaps tomorrow when we enter the city, everything will become clear.
HezekiahKurtz
Colossus 45, 1275 DR
I have not stopped shaking since early this afternoon. My thoughts are shadowed and foreboding. I can hardly grip my pen.
Around sunrise Bruck led us from the diggings on a straight course to the city entrance. Unlike the day before, no creatures stirred around the city; we saw no field animals, birds, or monsters. The air lay still and heavy over the land—muggy and fetid. The city gates waited open. We stood there for only a few moments, looking up at the flaring, ribbed bulwarks. I could not tell whether they were simply that high, or if they had, in fact, been built to lean together. Either way, the walls blocked out the sunlight.
We saw no living thing in those golden halls, but I cannot say the city lay abandoned. Shadows shifted, light flickered, pebbles scraped. Shapes moved on the edge of my vision. Scampering claws echoed almost inaudibly around corners ahead of us. The breeze of fluttering wings brushed our backs, but we saw nothing when we turned. We moved through the city without speaking, grouped tightly, stepping without sound. I felt like a phantom.
From time-to-time a poison dart would break the silence and zip through the air. I still do not know whether they came from a trap, or from an unseen enemy. More than one struck me. Immediately, my vision would cloud green and my knees would knock; my spear would lower and I would begin to slaver. Balthazar bless that monk. He is fast with the Mend Condition.
We haunted up and down the halls—or streets, whatever they were. I am not sure if we walked a city or a single structure; stone roofs covered many streets and most streets were so narrow they felt more like hallways. I lost my sense of direction as we delved deeper—and by deeper I mean further from the city entrance, more distant from any escape. That’s how I felt. I went because Bruck led us, and because there were two others who did not hesitate to follow. Although we faced no imminent danger, no snarling beasts or chanting elementalists, my heartbeat quickened each time we turned a corner. I repeatedly wiped the sweat from my palms. I looked back often, hoping for sunlight or a glimpse that perhaps we had simply missed seeing the city gate.
Bruck is fast, but he cannot be fast enough when enough darts fly in concerted ambush. As we approached a dark, open doorway, a dart zipped past my neck. I heard it thump into Wez. The magical tingle and glow of Mend Condition filled the air. Before the sound faded, I saw a second dart—a blur that that stopped in Kandra’s shoulder. Bruck cast Mending again. More darts followed. I could not count, keep track of, or dodge them. One pinned me in the arm, another in the leg, a third and fourth somewhere below my neck—I was already loosing feeling at that point.
The green glow enveloped me. The world tilted sideways as my head hit the ground. The ground shook. Walls swayed and rumbled. My head bounced against the stone and my ears rang. Exerting myself, I tried to stand, but only ended up rolling and collapsing on my back, facing the doorway.
Bruck stood there, a dark form against a brilliant light. He held his staff high over his head like a shield.
A voice came from the room. Although it sounded dull in my ears—as if they were stuffed with cotton—it made my head vibrate with visions of winged creatures, of fire and crumbling monolithic statues.
“Have you found it?”
“No,” Bruck replied. His voice came to me as if from across the world.
“Then why have you come?”
“I am bound to you—you commanded me to look in all places.”
“You are obedient to a fault, and waste your time.”
“I have only time.”
A deep, rolling laugh. “Indeed, my slave. Indeed.”
The next thing I knew, I was waking, laying in the grass outside of the city, staring up at the clouds. The trembling of my frame and darkness of my mind started then. It has subsided some in the hours since, but I fear to close my eyes and sleep.
I have not stopped shaking since early this afternoon. My thoughts are shadowed and foreboding. I can hardly grip my pen.
Around sunrise Bruck led us from the diggings on a straight course to the city entrance. Unlike the day before, no creatures stirred around the city; we saw no field animals, birds, or monsters. The air lay still and heavy over the land—muggy and fetid. The city gates waited open. We stood there for only a few moments, looking up at the flaring, ribbed bulwarks. I could not tell whether they were simply that high, or if they had, in fact, been built to lean together. Either way, the walls blocked out the sunlight.
We saw no living thing in those golden halls, but I cannot say the city lay abandoned. Shadows shifted, light flickered, pebbles scraped. Shapes moved on the edge of my vision. Scampering claws echoed almost inaudibly around corners ahead of us. The breeze of fluttering wings brushed our backs, but we saw nothing when we turned. We moved through the city without speaking, grouped tightly, stepping without sound. I felt like a phantom.
From time-to-time a poison dart would break the silence and zip through the air. I still do not know whether they came from a trap, or from an unseen enemy. More than one struck me. Immediately, my vision would cloud green and my knees would knock; my spear would lower and I would begin to slaver. Balthazar bless that monk. He is fast with the Mend Condition.
We haunted up and down the halls—or streets, whatever they were. I am not sure if we walked a city or a single structure; stone roofs covered many streets and most streets were so narrow they felt more like hallways. I lost my sense of direction as we delved deeper—and by deeper I mean further from the city entrance, more distant from any escape. That’s how I felt. I went because Bruck led us, and because there were two others who did not hesitate to follow. Although we faced no imminent danger, no snarling beasts or chanting elementalists, my heartbeat quickened each time we turned a corner. I repeatedly wiped the sweat from my palms. I looked back often, hoping for sunlight or a glimpse that perhaps we had simply missed seeing the city gate.
Bruck is fast, but he cannot be fast enough when enough darts fly in concerted ambush. As we approached a dark, open doorway, a dart zipped past my neck. I heard it thump into Wez. The magical tingle and glow of Mend Condition filled the air. Before the sound faded, I saw a second dart—a blur that that stopped in Kandra’s shoulder. Bruck cast Mending again. More darts followed. I could not count, keep track of, or dodge them. One pinned me in the arm, another in the leg, a third and fourth somewhere below my neck—I was already loosing feeling at that point.
The green glow enveloped me. The world tilted sideways as my head hit the ground. The ground shook. Walls swayed and rumbled. My head bounced against the stone and my ears rang. Exerting myself, I tried to stand, but only ended up rolling and collapsing on my back, facing the doorway.
Bruck stood there, a dark form against a brilliant light. He held his staff high over his head like a shield.
A voice came from the room. Although it sounded dull in my ears—as if they were stuffed with cotton—it made my head vibrate with visions of winged creatures, of fire and crumbling monolithic statues.
“Have you found it?”
“No,” Bruck replied. His voice came to me as if from across the world.
“Then why have you come?”
“I am bound to you—you commanded me to look in all places.”
“You are obedient to a fault, and waste your time.”
“I have only time.”
A deep, rolling laugh. “Indeed, my slave. Indeed.”
The next thing I knew, I was waking, laying in the grass outside of the city, staring up at the clouds. The trembling of my frame and darkness of my mind started then. It has subsided some in the hours since, but I fear to close my eyes and sleep.
HezekiahKurtz
Colossus 46, 1275 DR
I spent a restless night, sleeping little. An eerie green glow shrouded my dreams, and that rolling evil voice woke me repeatedly. As the first blush of dawn touched the Eastern horizon, I stepped out of our tent and found Wez and Kandra huddled a few feet away with their heads together against a gigantic, carved stone head. Wez motioned at me to join them. I explained that I couldn’t sleep.
“I could not, either,” Kandra said. “Wings of darkness haunted me.”
“Do you know how we got out of the city?” Wez asked.
I shook my head. “I must have blacked out.”
“So did we,” he said. “In fact, we have no idea what happened after that barrage of darts.”
“You didn’t hear the voice?”
“Voice?”
With trembling words I recounted what I had heard and seen in my remaining moments of consciousness. My storytelling faltered once, when a shadow of foreboding fell over my mind. I asked them if they knew what Bruck was looking for, or whom he was a slave to. Before they could reply, the monk stepped out of the tent.
“I imagine that all of you are better off not knowing those things,” he said. His eyes looked hollow and sunken in the growing light. Deep bags weighed under his eyes.
“I think you need to tell us what’s going on,” Wez said. He stepped in front of Kandra and me, and placed his hands on his hips.
“Perhaps, but I will not be meeting that need anytime soon. You are certainly free to leave at any time. There are others who can join me.”
“We work well together,” Kandra said. “Nobody wants to leave.”
She was right—for my part, anyway. I feel little compulsion to stay behind, to abandon the party. My only care right now is to make sure Guel does not find me. What better way than to explore the continent, always staying on the move and becoming a cartographer myself?
“What was that voice I heard?” I asked. My impulse was to shudder at the thought of that sound.
He brushed my question off with a wave of his hand. “Since you all are up, we can leave early today. We didn’t finish exploring the city.”
Collectively, the three of us exclaimed our surprised objections, and then Wez said, “We can’t go back there.”
“We can—I am, anyway. It will be safer today. Not that any of us were in danger, yesterday.”
“I don’t see why we need to return to the city,” I said. “Your master said that whatever you’re looking for isn’t there.”
“He cannot see it. He does not know where it is.”
“Where do you think it is?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea—that is why I am a cartographer eight times over. I don’t really even know what it looks like, only that I will recognize it when I see it.”
“What is it?” Wez said.
Bruck frowned. “Let’s get a move on.”
He led us along the Eastern wall and then turned west. The entire situation made me uneasy, but the more we pressed on—overcoming mob after mob—the more confidence I gained. It helped to keep my eyes toward the wall at all times, as if by watching it I could keep the voice and the apprehension away. For a time it seemed promising that we would not enter those streets, but on the Western-most edge of the island, near where the lush landscape dropped abruptly off in a cliff, Bruck led us to a well-hidden entrance. He proceeded without hesitation. The rest of us stopped where the stone pavement began, and simply looked at him.
The monk turned to face us. “I told you it will be safer today.”
“Why are we following him?” I asked the other two. “He’s nuts.”
“Is there anyone else to follow?” Kandra said. She and Wez walked on.
“There should be,” I said to myself. “There should be.”
Bruck was right. The city was safer, and it lacked the distinct feeling of danger that permeated its stones the day before. But I still feel we could have done without re-entering the city.
I spent a restless night, sleeping little. An eerie green glow shrouded my dreams, and that rolling evil voice woke me repeatedly. As the first blush of dawn touched the Eastern horizon, I stepped out of our tent and found Wez and Kandra huddled a few feet away with their heads together against a gigantic, carved stone head. Wez motioned at me to join them. I explained that I couldn’t sleep.
“I could not, either,” Kandra said. “Wings of darkness haunted me.”
“Do you know how we got out of the city?” Wez asked.
I shook my head. “I must have blacked out.”
“So did we,” he said. “In fact, we have no idea what happened after that barrage of darts.”
“You didn’t hear the voice?”
“Voice?”
With trembling words I recounted what I had heard and seen in my remaining moments of consciousness. My storytelling faltered once, when a shadow of foreboding fell over my mind. I asked them if they knew what Bruck was looking for, or whom he was a slave to. Before they could reply, the monk stepped out of the tent.
“I imagine that all of you are better off not knowing those things,” he said. His eyes looked hollow and sunken in the growing light. Deep bags weighed under his eyes.
“I think you need to tell us what’s going on,” Wez said. He stepped in front of Kandra and me, and placed his hands on his hips.
“Perhaps, but I will not be meeting that need anytime soon. You are certainly free to leave at any time. There are others who can join me.”
“We work well together,” Kandra said. “Nobody wants to leave.”
She was right—for my part, anyway. I feel little compulsion to stay behind, to abandon the party. My only care right now is to make sure Guel does not find me. What better way than to explore the continent, always staying on the move and becoming a cartographer myself?
“What was that voice I heard?” I asked. My impulse was to shudder at the thought of that sound.
He brushed my question off with a wave of his hand. “Since you all are up, we can leave early today. We didn’t finish exploring the city.”
Collectively, the three of us exclaimed our surprised objections, and then Wez said, “We can’t go back there.”
“We can—I am, anyway. It will be safer today. Not that any of us were in danger, yesterday.”
“I don’t see why we need to return to the city,” I said. “Your master said that whatever you’re looking for isn’t there.”
“He cannot see it. He does not know where it is.”
“Where do you think it is?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea—that is why I am a cartographer eight times over. I don’t really even know what it looks like, only that I will recognize it when I see it.”
“What is it?” Wez said.
Bruck frowned. “Let’s get a move on.”
He led us along the Eastern wall and then turned west. The entire situation made me uneasy, but the more we pressed on—overcoming mob after mob—the more confidence I gained. It helped to keep my eyes toward the wall at all times, as if by watching it I could keep the voice and the apprehension away. For a time it seemed promising that we would not enter those streets, but on the Western-most edge of the island, near where the lush landscape dropped abruptly off in a cliff, Bruck led us to a well-hidden entrance. He proceeded without hesitation. The rest of us stopped where the stone pavement began, and simply looked at him.
The monk turned to face us. “I told you it will be safer today.”
“Why are we following him?” I asked the other two. “He’s nuts.”
“Is there anyone else to follow?” Kandra said. She and Wez walked on.
“There should be,” I said to myself. “There should be.”
Bruck was right. The city was safer, and it lacked the distinct feeling of danger that permeated its stones the day before. But I still feel we could have done without re-entering the city.
Perynne
Ooh, the storyline is really picking up it's pace. I like how you combine lovely descriptions of the surroundings, while still leaving room for the reader's imagination.
Again, waiting eagerly for the next part.
Again, waiting eagerly for the next part.
HezekiahKurtz
Colossus 47, 1275 DR
We traveled back through the Cliffs of Dokjok to a small town called Beknur Harbor. It surprised me how many harpies had appeared on the hills above the cliffs over the last two days. It’s almost as if a mass migration had started, or as if they had simply popped up out of the ground. They are disgusting things; I found it a pleasure to put a few of them down. In one of their suddenly-constructed nests I found a diamond. On an impulse I gave it to Kandra. She smiled at me from beneath her long eyelashes, and touched on my shoulder.
Beknur Harbor is a little town, with a small dock. It has one inn, many nets, and—to my surprise—a rune trader. It smells of fish and seawater, and the wind blows as softly and steadily as the sound of water lapping on the docks. As in other parts of Istan, the buildings are elevated on stilts; they must experience floods here. In Harbor, the structures surround a small, grassy commons area and generally form the perimeter of the town, although hills and city walls create a barrier to the wilderness. The city has a gate leading out to the West, which we entered in, and another that leads out to the East. We will leave there tomorrow.
I have not noticed one before, so it may exist in other parts of Istan, but in Harbor a slender tower stands at the southeast edge of town. It rests about mid-way up a hill, and is also built on stilts. Several guards watch from a platform covered by a dark red canvas marked with white stripes. I am not sure what the awning is made of, but it looks almost like dyed drakeskin. Two poles reach from the awning’s center a hundred feet into the air, with the canvas wrapped tightly around it. At the spire’s top, the drakeskin gives way to a leather banner stretched between two poles, with what looks like an insect painted on it. I have not had a chance to find out what the bug stands for.
“I think we’ll wait until tomorrow to head out,” Bruck said as we stood at a counter, eating fish we had purchased from a merchant. It was barely past noon. “I’ll find us some companions worth bringing along. Four more, I think.”
“Do we need that many?” I asked. “We’ve done fine until now with only the four of us.”
“I’ve been through here,” Wez said. “We could make it with four, but it would be difficult.”
Bruck shook his head as a fish tail disappeared between his lips.
“Let’s just try it,” I said.
“No, no,” Bruck said. “We’re not out to prove anything. Best to take it safe. And besides, you’re not the one that has to listen to the ‘rez plz or the ‘I have Deep Wound’ on me all day long. It’s so tiring.”
Not long later, I stood outside a small hut with Wez and Kandra, trying to talk a trader down on his Rune of Major Vigor price. He wanted 5500 gold, which is about normal for a rune of that power. But we were aiming for 4500. I’m still not quite sure how it ended up, because when I looked to away for a moment, toward the western entrance of the town, I saw Guel stride through the gates.
I froze for a moment as fear seized me. I could not fathom any other purpose for his being in Istan than to hunt me down and slaughter me, and knew I was no match for him. In my head, I saw him come at me from behind, with a dagger, from the side with a sword, and from front with a killing eye.
Once the visions of my death had played out in my mind—it only took a moment—I ducked five feet to the right, to hide behind a pillar supporting a building. I peeked around to see that Guel had stopped just inside the gate to survey the town. He stood perhaps a hundred and fifty feet from me.
“What’s going on?” Kandra asked. Wez, too, had stopped his haggling with the rune trader, and looked at me with confusion.
I held up a hand, indicating that I would answer in a moment, and watched as Guel started toward the inn—to the place where I had already been and where I was supposed to stay the night. I tried desperately to remember whether I had talked with anyone there, but my mind could not focus an anything but that moving figure; I did not want to believe that it was really him. But there was no mistaking him for someone else. He wore different armor than I had last seen him in, but it was light blue like he always wore. His distinctive gait and his height, dark skin, and general air left no doubt about his identity. In those moments, I weighed many options—what should I tell Wez and Kandra; should I leave the party immediately, and head back West; should I try to take Guel by surprise and finish him off despite the good odds against me?
In a few moments, when he entered the inn, I motioned at my party members to come to me.
“What’s wrong with you?” Wez asked.
I looked at them earnestly, wondering how much they needed to know. How would they react if they found out that they didn’t even know my real name? Would it be better to not tell them, and risk having them find out from someone else, or simply tell them everything? I like these people, feel that a bond has grown between us in the last week days; I don’t want to lose their company.
“A Tyrian man just entered the city,” I said. “He’s after me. He’s very dangerous.” I held my breath as I watched their reactions. Wez furrowed his brow, narrowed his eyes, and looked at me sideways. Kandra pursed her lips in a frown. Several seconds passed in silence between us.
“What should we do?” Wez finally asked.
“Nothing,” I said, relieved that he had not probed deeper. “I’m just going to disappear for the rest of the day and night. I’ll join the party when we leave in the morning.”
“How will we find you?”
“I’ll find you,” I said. Chancing a look around the pillar and seeing no Guel, I turned to scramble up a hill toward the watchtower. It occurred to me that perhaps I could find shelter in the tower for few minutes to think out a plan, so hurried toward its ladder. By the time I reached the top, a guard waited there for me.
“Stop!” he said. He lowered a spear to the level of my throat.
I halted with one hand on the platform, and another in the air. My feet stopped four rungs from the top. “I need to take refuge here for just a moment,” I said. Standing there, high in the air, I felt exposed, like a harpy perched on her nest: a target for any casual passerby to pick off with a well-placed arrow.
“Back off!”
“I need to rest here for a minute!”
“There is an inn.” He nodded to the space behind me. “Rest there. Now back down!”
“Please!”
“Now!”
“I’m afraid of public beds!”
From the confused look on his face, the plea had the intended effect of catching him by surprise. “What?”
“I’m afraid of public beds. You can never tell who’s slept in them, and what they’ve done in them. Who knows what kind of bugs are hiding in those quilts?”
“Get back you fool!” In what I understood as a final warning, he jabbed the spear toward my head.
Knowing I had lost, and cursing myself for such a reckless decision made in haste, I backed down and headed further up the hill, glancing to see if Guel had emerged from the inn. He had not. In only a few moments I reached the top of the hill, a good fifteen feet higher than the platform of the tower, and forty feet above the level of the city. I lay with my feet toward the outside of town, and watched the inn. In those minutes, as I had a little time to consider just what to, my heartbeat slowed a little. Unfortunately, considering did not get me any closer to a decision.
It couldn’t have been two minutes before Guel appeared in the doorway. He headed to the left around Harbor’s buildings, stopping at every opportunity to talk with all manner of people: merchants, children, fishermen, adventurers, and anyone else he saw. My anxiety rose as he approached the rune trader, who stood almost immediately below my position on the crest of the hill. I could see the features of Guel’s calm face clearly. Luckily, Wez and Kandra were still talking with the trader, so Guel stopped a few feet away, as if waiting his turn to do some negotiating. I don’t know if Wez knew that Guel was there, or even that Guel was the man I had talked about, but as the assassin stood there, Wez became agitated. He waved his arms over his head and shouted angrily. Kandra joined him. The trader yelled back. Guel shook his head and walked on.
But after only a few steps he stopped and turned, looked up at the tower. I got ready to run, knowing that if he went up there to talk with the guard I would need all the head start I could get. But after a moment he shrugged and continued on. He headed directly East, toward the city gate. In only a minute he had left the city, and entered the area I will be exploring tomorrow.
I waited for a little while, and then made my way down the hill and across town to the inn. Without a word to anyone, I found my room, where I am now sitting in this public bed, wondering what I should do.
We traveled back through the Cliffs of Dokjok to a small town called Beknur Harbor. It surprised me how many harpies had appeared on the hills above the cliffs over the last two days. It’s almost as if a mass migration had started, or as if they had simply popped up out of the ground. They are disgusting things; I found it a pleasure to put a few of them down. In one of their suddenly-constructed nests I found a diamond. On an impulse I gave it to Kandra. She smiled at me from beneath her long eyelashes, and touched on my shoulder.
Beknur Harbor is a little town, with a small dock. It has one inn, many nets, and—to my surprise—a rune trader. It smells of fish and seawater, and the wind blows as softly and steadily as the sound of water lapping on the docks. As in other parts of Istan, the buildings are elevated on stilts; they must experience floods here. In Harbor, the structures surround a small, grassy commons area and generally form the perimeter of the town, although hills and city walls create a barrier to the wilderness. The city has a gate leading out to the West, which we entered in, and another that leads out to the East. We will leave there tomorrow.
I have not noticed one before, so it may exist in other parts of Istan, but in Harbor a slender tower stands at the southeast edge of town. It rests about mid-way up a hill, and is also built on stilts. Several guards watch from a platform covered by a dark red canvas marked with white stripes. I am not sure what the awning is made of, but it looks almost like dyed drakeskin. Two poles reach from the awning’s center a hundred feet into the air, with the canvas wrapped tightly around it. At the spire’s top, the drakeskin gives way to a leather banner stretched between two poles, with what looks like an insect painted on it. I have not had a chance to find out what the bug stands for.
“I think we’ll wait until tomorrow to head out,” Bruck said as we stood at a counter, eating fish we had purchased from a merchant. It was barely past noon. “I’ll find us some companions worth bringing along. Four more, I think.”
“Do we need that many?” I asked. “We’ve done fine until now with only the four of us.”
“I’ve been through here,” Wez said. “We could make it with four, but it would be difficult.”
Bruck shook his head as a fish tail disappeared between his lips.
“Let’s just try it,” I said.
“No, no,” Bruck said. “We’re not out to prove anything. Best to take it safe. And besides, you’re not the one that has to listen to the ‘rez plz or the ‘I have Deep Wound’ on me all day long. It’s so tiring.”
Not long later, I stood outside a small hut with Wez and Kandra, trying to talk a trader down on his Rune of Major Vigor price. He wanted 5500 gold, which is about normal for a rune of that power. But we were aiming for 4500. I’m still not quite sure how it ended up, because when I looked to away for a moment, toward the western entrance of the town, I saw Guel stride through the gates.
I froze for a moment as fear seized me. I could not fathom any other purpose for his being in Istan than to hunt me down and slaughter me, and knew I was no match for him. In my head, I saw him come at me from behind, with a dagger, from the side with a sword, and from front with a killing eye.
Once the visions of my death had played out in my mind—it only took a moment—I ducked five feet to the right, to hide behind a pillar supporting a building. I peeked around to see that Guel had stopped just inside the gate to survey the town. He stood perhaps a hundred and fifty feet from me.
“What’s going on?” Kandra asked. Wez, too, had stopped his haggling with the rune trader, and looked at me with confusion.
I held up a hand, indicating that I would answer in a moment, and watched as Guel started toward the inn—to the place where I had already been and where I was supposed to stay the night. I tried desperately to remember whether I had talked with anyone there, but my mind could not focus an anything but that moving figure; I did not want to believe that it was really him. But there was no mistaking him for someone else. He wore different armor than I had last seen him in, but it was light blue like he always wore. His distinctive gait and his height, dark skin, and general air left no doubt about his identity. In those moments, I weighed many options—what should I tell Wez and Kandra; should I leave the party immediately, and head back West; should I try to take Guel by surprise and finish him off despite the good odds against me?
In a few moments, when he entered the inn, I motioned at my party members to come to me.
“What’s wrong with you?” Wez asked.
I looked at them earnestly, wondering how much they needed to know. How would they react if they found out that they didn’t even know my real name? Would it be better to not tell them, and risk having them find out from someone else, or simply tell them everything? I like these people, feel that a bond has grown between us in the last week days; I don’t want to lose their company.
“A Tyrian man just entered the city,” I said. “He’s after me. He’s very dangerous.” I held my breath as I watched their reactions. Wez furrowed his brow, narrowed his eyes, and looked at me sideways. Kandra pursed her lips in a frown. Several seconds passed in silence between us.
“What should we do?” Wez finally asked.
“Nothing,” I said, relieved that he had not probed deeper. “I’m just going to disappear for the rest of the day and night. I’ll join the party when we leave in the morning.”
“How will we find you?”
“I’ll find you,” I said. Chancing a look around the pillar and seeing no Guel, I turned to scramble up a hill toward the watchtower. It occurred to me that perhaps I could find shelter in the tower for few minutes to think out a plan, so hurried toward its ladder. By the time I reached the top, a guard waited there for me.
“Stop!” he said. He lowered a spear to the level of my throat.
I halted with one hand on the platform, and another in the air. My feet stopped four rungs from the top. “I need to take refuge here for just a moment,” I said. Standing there, high in the air, I felt exposed, like a harpy perched on her nest: a target for any casual passerby to pick off with a well-placed arrow.
“Back off!”
“I need to rest here for a minute!”
“There is an inn.” He nodded to the space behind me. “Rest there. Now back down!”
“Please!”
“Now!”
“I’m afraid of public beds!”
From the confused look on his face, the plea had the intended effect of catching him by surprise. “What?”
“I’m afraid of public beds. You can never tell who’s slept in them, and what they’ve done in them. Who knows what kind of bugs are hiding in those quilts?”
“Get back you fool!” In what I understood as a final warning, he jabbed the spear toward my head.
Knowing I had lost, and cursing myself for such a reckless decision made in haste, I backed down and headed further up the hill, glancing to see if Guel had emerged from the inn. He had not. In only a few moments I reached the top of the hill, a good fifteen feet higher than the platform of the tower, and forty feet above the level of the city. I lay with my feet toward the outside of town, and watched the inn. In those minutes, as I had a little time to consider just what to, my heartbeat slowed a little. Unfortunately, considering did not get me any closer to a decision.
It couldn’t have been two minutes before Guel appeared in the doorway. He headed to the left around Harbor’s buildings, stopping at every opportunity to talk with all manner of people: merchants, children, fishermen, adventurers, and anyone else he saw. My anxiety rose as he approached the rune trader, who stood almost immediately below my position on the crest of the hill. I could see the features of Guel’s calm face clearly. Luckily, Wez and Kandra were still talking with the trader, so Guel stopped a few feet away, as if waiting his turn to do some negotiating. I don’t know if Wez knew that Guel was there, or even that Guel was the man I had talked about, but as the assassin stood there, Wez became agitated. He waved his arms over his head and shouted angrily. Kandra joined him. The trader yelled back. Guel shook his head and walked on.
But after only a few steps he stopped and turned, looked up at the tower. I got ready to run, knowing that if he went up there to talk with the guard I would need all the head start I could get. But after a moment he shrugged and continued on. He headed directly East, toward the city gate. In only a minute he had left the city, and entered the area I will be exploring tomorrow.
I waited for a little while, and then made my way down the hill and across town to the inn. Without a word to anyone, I found my room, where I am now sitting in this public bed, wondering what I should do.
Shadowfrost
keep going... or else 
Morgoroth
Great job, I've really enjoyed reading this so far. The only thing that imo doesn't fit in is the "n00b", but except this perfect style.
noir0
I hope we get to hear more about how a paragon got in so much trouble to get an assasin after him. This is one of the best reads i've had in quite a while.
broodijzer
yeah your writing style is amazing. keep going on please
LicensedLuny
/signed for more!
Like so many others, my compliments on your story telling talents. I particularly enjoy how well you weave together details from the game, that we can all go see, with details specific to your story. IMO, it's a great trick for pulling us players further into this.
GJ! Please do keep it up!
Luny
Like so many others, my compliments on your story telling talents. I particularly enjoy how well you weave together details from the game, that we can all go see, with details specific to your story. IMO, it's a great trick for pulling us players further into this.
GJ! Please do keep it up!
Luny
HezekiahKurtz
Thanks for the encouragement. I don't remember if I've mentioned, but I am trying to update the journal on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
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Colossus 48, 1275 DR
This morning I greeted our group at the Eastern gate of Beknur Harbor. Bruck, Kandra, and Wez had gathered there with four others. The new folks were quickly introduced to me—their names don’t matter anymore—and we headed out. I went somewhat reluctantly, fearing that we would encounter Guel. Through the night I had toyed with the idea of abandoning the group; it seemed foolish to enter the area I knew my assassin had headed into. But on the other hand, leaving a group I got along well with also seemed foolish—they would certainly serve as protection.
The area we entered, Isnnur Isles, was recently some kind of farmland. At least, that’s the impression I get, from the rows and circles of dirt surrounded by knee-deep water. Perhaps, though, they are some kind of fishery, given the many nets scattered everywhere. The area is a foggy, damp swamp reeking of mold—well, it’s mostly swamp. A hill rises out of the marsh’s middle. An imposing structure is being built on that hill—or was being built. I did not see any workers there; it is either half-constructed or half torn down. Perhaps the aggressive monsters that scared away most of the farmers—fishermen, whatever—also scared away the construction workers.
We skirted around the hill, clearing the swamp of hostiles before we decided to ascend. Then one of the few, courageous remaining farmers hailed us and asked us to get rid of some bothersome flamingos. We obliged, given the pretty little reward he offered. I really enjoyed watching Bruck and Wez run around like little children, shooing those birds.
Once we finished and collected our gold, we turned our attention back to the hill. Several paths lead up to the structure; we took one from the Northern side. When we had almost reached the top, about ten corsairs—two groups—and a mob of undead came into view. Bruck, who led from the back, called out for everyone to stop and fall back a bit. The corsairs had spotted us, and watched us warily as we moved a small ways down the path and stood in a circle facing each other.
“These will require special handling,” Bruck told us. “I don’t think we can take all three groups at once. Let’s just try to pull one group of corsairs down this path. Wez, that’s your job. Everyone else wait about fifty behind him, in the usual formation. When he pulls, and comes back toward us, we should all back down; we want them to come about 150 feet this way, and then we can take the group safely.”
The rest of the group members nodded their understanding, but I thought I had a better idea. “Why don’t we try to pull the other two groups away in other directions at the same time? That way we don’t have to pull the first group so far. It’ll be easier to isolate it.”
“Too dangerous,” Bruck said. “We need as many people as possible to take out the corsair group—whoever pulls the other group would have to do it alone. That’s just too dangerous for them, and for the six of us taking out the other group.”
“All they have to do is kite the groups far enough that the rest of our party can quickly take out the other mob. It’s easy.”
He made a sharp, cutting motion in the air in front of his chest. “No!” And the discussion was over.
It quickly became apparent that Bruck’s plan would not work. Every time Wez tried to pull, all three mobs came, and we had to retreat until the monsters backed away. We tried four times before I decided to take things into my own hands. When the party moved forward a fifth time to draw one of the mobs, I motioned at one of the new guys—a ritualist—to follow me; I knew that he carried a bow and would be able to pull without getting too close. Immediately, Bruck noticed our separation from the party.
“Where are you going?” he called out to me. “Get back here!”
“Just going to try out my idea,” I said.
“Get back here!”
I pretended not to hear. The ritualist simply followed, and we cut across the hill to one of the other paths. I explained to him that he would draw the group of undead, and I would draw one of the groups of corsairs. All we needed to do was kite them a short distance while the rest of the group took out the other corsairs, and we’d be fine.
“Hold their attention as long as possible,” I said. “If they start to head back, fire another arrow at them.”
He raised his eyebrows at me, and said, “I’ve done it before.”
When we reached the top of the path, we were a good hundred feet away from the undead. They noticed us, but seemed more concerned with the bulk of our party. “You wait here, and pull the undead in that direction,” I said, pointing down a path to the west. “I’m going to go around the building and pull some corsairs to the South. The rest of the party will see when we do it, and know to take out the other mob.”
He nodded, and I left him there. Although the building was large, it took only a minute to circle. My heartbeat grew faster with each step as I envisioned what would happen; the adrenaline built in my veins with each breath. By the time I found a spot where I could pull from, the three mobs were returning from yet another failed attempt to separate them. Taking a deep breath, I cast Mending Refrain on myself, and then motioned at the ritualist across the way. He stood straight up from his crouching position behind a stone block and drew an arrow.
I did not watch to see if his dart hit hit—or if the rest of the party did its part—because I immediately threw my spear at the nearest corsair, and shouted “Hey ugly!” He turned just in time to catch the tip in his shoulder. I waited only long enough to see five of the corsairs start toward me, and turned to run. I took only a few steps before a net fell down over my head. Cursing—I had forgotten about that net they use—I fought to untangle myself. By the time I was loose, the corsairs had almost reached me. With a screech of metal on metal, a sword sliced across my back, but did not pierce my armor. An arrow glanced off of my shoulder.
I knew pulling was not supposed to work like this, but I now had a job to do at all costs—as long as there was someone left alive to resurrect me, I would be fine. But that was little comfort. Ignoring the pain of their blows as best I could, I continued to flee. It surprised me how long the corsairs hacked at my back, cursing and grunting as their weapons banged against me. They never tried to trip me or block my path—although I did stumble and nearly fall several times. They just beat away at my armor, gradually wearing down my health. The adrenaline that now filled me came not from anticipation, but from a rising fear; it’s no fun to die, even if you do know you can just be brought back. Sharp pains filled my body. My legs and arms burned. I felt my strength expiring, and my hope fading. Amazingly, right when I knew I was about to expire, when I had kited them a good hundred feet, they gave up, and turned back. Thank Dwayna.
Panting heavily, I turned as I cast Leader’s Comfort on myself. I saw, now, why they had retreated: the rest of the party was there, beating down their healer. In fact, just as I cast Mending Refrain on myself, the corsair healer cried out and crumpled under a gruesome blow from Kandra. Strength poured into me, and I re-engaged the corsairs, hurling spears at the new target that Wez was calling.
The corsairs did not last long. It was a good thing, too, as the undead were returning from their pursuit of the ritualist; he had done a professional job taking them quite a distance down the hill, and was cautiously following them. Before the skeletons made it to us, barreling forward with abandon, I caught a boiling look from Bruck; I knew I had best keep myself out of harm’s way for the next little bit—I doubted he would make me a healing priority. Without much coordination, the undead engaged us. We dispatched them without incident.
As the party members celebrated by looting the bodies and sharing the shiny gold, Bruck confronted me. His eyes bulged in rage; a vein stood out on the right side of his forehead. “How dare you!” he breathed. It surprised me, actually, that he didn’t shout it. Scared me. “How dare you disobey a direct order!” His staff vibrated as his tightly flexed arm trembled in fury.
My instincts told me I should be angry, but I controlled my temper and spoke in an even, calm voice. “It worked, didn’t it? It worked just fine.”
“That’s not the point! We had a plan, and were following the plan. You purposefully went against the plan.”
The other party members had gathered around us. From my left, the ritualist spoke. “That went rather well, I thought. I figure, no harm—no foul.”
Wez and Kandra kept silent, but the other new party members murmured agreement. I tried not to smile at that; it felt good that most of the party was siding with me. Bruck’s eyes simmered as I looked at him without blinking. In them, I could see his thoughts, could see him weighing his options. Once again, I thought of that paragon the monk had kicked out of the party near the Sunspear Great Hall. For several moments I regretted my going against Bruck’s plan.
Without taking his stare from me, he pointed behind himself, to the East. “Let’s move on.” As the party moved to follow his order, he leaned close to me. “If you do something like that again, you’re out. I’m only letting you stay because you’ve proved yourself over the last week. Don’t do it again.”
I nodded, hoping I didn’t look too relieved. The rest of the day was relatively uneventful until we got to Kodlonu Hamlet. Once there, Bruck called the party around him, thanked our four newcomers for their help, and then booted them.
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Colossus 48, 1275 DR
This morning I greeted our group at the Eastern gate of Beknur Harbor. Bruck, Kandra, and Wez had gathered there with four others. The new folks were quickly introduced to me—their names don’t matter anymore—and we headed out. I went somewhat reluctantly, fearing that we would encounter Guel. Through the night I had toyed with the idea of abandoning the group; it seemed foolish to enter the area I knew my assassin had headed into. But on the other hand, leaving a group I got along well with also seemed foolish—they would certainly serve as protection.
The area we entered, Isnnur Isles, was recently some kind of farmland. At least, that’s the impression I get, from the rows and circles of dirt surrounded by knee-deep water. Perhaps, though, they are some kind of fishery, given the many nets scattered everywhere. The area is a foggy, damp swamp reeking of mold—well, it’s mostly swamp. A hill rises out of the marsh’s middle. An imposing structure is being built on that hill—or was being built. I did not see any workers there; it is either half-constructed or half torn down. Perhaps the aggressive monsters that scared away most of the farmers—fishermen, whatever—also scared away the construction workers.
We skirted around the hill, clearing the swamp of hostiles before we decided to ascend. Then one of the few, courageous remaining farmers hailed us and asked us to get rid of some bothersome flamingos. We obliged, given the pretty little reward he offered. I really enjoyed watching Bruck and Wez run around like little children, shooing those birds.
Once we finished and collected our gold, we turned our attention back to the hill. Several paths lead up to the structure; we took one from the Northern side. When we had almost reached the top, about ten corsairs—two groups—and a mob of undead came into view. Bruck, who led from the back, called out for everyone to stop and fall back a bit. The corsairs had spotted us, and watched us warily as we moved a small ways down the path and stood in a circle facing each other.
“These will require special handling,” Bruck told us. “I don’t think we can take all three groups at once. Let’s just try to pull one group of corsairs down this path. Wez, that’s your job. Everyone else wait about fifty behind him, in the usual formation. When he pulls, and comes back toward us, we should all back down; we want them to come about 150 feet this way, and then we can take the group safely.”
The rest of the group members nodded their understanding, but I thought I had a better idea. “Why don’t we try to pull the other two groups away in other directions at the same time? That way we don’t have to pull the first group so far. It’ll be easier to isolate it.”
“Too dangerous,” Bruck said. “We need as many people as possible to take out the corsair group—whoever pulls the other group would have to do it alone. That’s just too dangerous for them, and for the six of us taking out the other group.”
“All they have to do is kite the groups far enough that the rest of our party can quickly take out the other mob. It’s easy.”
He made a sharp, cutting motion in the air in front of his chest. “No!” And the discussion was over.
It quickly became apparent that Bruck’s plan would not work. Every time Wez tried to pull, all three mobs came, and we had to retreat until the monsters backed away. We tried four times before I decided to take things into my own hands. When the party moved forward a fifth time to draw one of the mobs, I motioned at one of the new guys—a ritualist—to follow me; I knew that he carried a bow and would be able to pull without getting too close. Immediately, Bruck noticed our separation from the party.
“Where are you going?” he called out to me. “Get back here!”
“Just going to try out my idea,” I said.
“Get back here!”
I pretended not to hear. The ritualist simply followed, and we cut across the hill to one of the other paths. I explained to him that he would draw the group of undead, and I would draw one of the groups of corsairs. All we needed to do was kite them a short distance while the rest of the group took out the other corsairs, and we’d be fine.
“Hold their attention as long as possible,” I said. “If they start to head back, fire another arrow at them.”
He raised his eyebrows at me, and said, “I’ve done it before.”
When we reached the top of the path, we were a good hundred feet away from the undead. They noticed us, but seemed more concerned with the bulk of our party. “You wait here, and pull the undead in that direction,” I said, pointing down a path to the west. “I’m going to go around the building and pull some corsairs to the South. The rest of the party will see when we do it, and know to take out the other mob.”
He nodded, and I left him there. Although the building was large, it took only a minute to circle. My heartbeat grew faster with each step as I envisioned what would happen; the adrenaline built in my veins with each breath. By the time I found a spot where I could pull from, the three mobs were returning from yet another failed attempt to separate them. Taking a deep breath, I cast Mending Refrain on myself, and then motioned at the ritualist across the way. He stood straight up from his crouching position behind a stone block and drew an arrow.
I did not watch to see if his dart hit hit—or if the rest of the party did its part—because I immediately threw my spear at the nearest corsair, and shouted “Hey ugly!” He turned just in time to catch the tip in his shoulder. I waited only long enough to see five of the corsairs start toward me, and turned to run. I took only a few steps before a net fell down over my head. Cursing—I had forgotten about that net they use—I fought to untangle myself. By the time I was loose, the corsairs had almost reached me. With a screech of metal on metal, a sword sliced across my back, but did not pierce my armor. An arrow glanced off of my shoulder.
I knew pulling was not supposed to work like this, but I now had a job to do at all costs—as long as there was someone left alive to resurrect me, I would be fine. But that was little comfort. Ignoring the pain of their blows as best I could, I continued to flee. It surprised me how long the corsairs hacked at my back, cursing and grunting as their weapons banged against me. They never tried to trip me or block my path—although I did stumble and nearly fall several times. They just beat away at my armor, gradually wearing down my health. The adrenaline that now filled me came not from anticipation, but from a rising fear; it’s no fun to die, even if you do know you can just be brought back. Sharp pains filled my body. My legs and arms burned. I felt my strength expiring, and my hope fading. Amazingly, right when I knew I was about to expire, when I had kited them a good hundred feet, they gave up, and turned back. Thank Dwayna.
Panting heavily, I turned as I cast Leader’s Comfort on myself. I saw, now, why they had retreated: the rest of the party was there, beating down their healer. In fact, just as I cast Mending Refrain on myself, the corsair healer cried out and crumpled under a gruesome blow from Kandra. Strength poured into me, and I re-engaged the corsairs, hurling spears at the new target that Wez was calling.
The corsairs did not last long. It was a good thing, too, as the undead were returning from their pursuit of the ritualist; he had done a professional job taking them quite a distance down the hill, and was cautiously following them. Before the skeletons made it to us, barreling forward with abandon, I caught a boiling look from Bruck; I knew I had best keep myself out of harm’s way for the next little bit—I doubted he would make me a healing priority. Without much coordination, the undead engaged us. We dispatched them without incident.
As the party members celebrated by looting the bodies and sharing the shiny gold, Bruck confronted me. His eyes bulged in rage; a vein stood out on the right side of his forehead. “How dare you!” he breathed. It surprised me, actually, that he didn’t shout it. Scared me. “How dare you disobey a direct order!” His staff vibrated as his tightly flexed arm trembled in fury.
My instincts told me I should be angry, but I controlled my temper and spoke in an even, calm voice. “It worked, didn’t it? It worked just fine.”
“That’s not the point! We had a plan, and were following the plan. You purposefully went against the plan.”
The other party members had gathered around us. From my left, the ritualist spoke. “That went rather well, I thought. I figure, no harm—no foul.”
Wez and Kandra kept silent, but the other new party members murmured agreement. I tried not to smile at that; it felt good that most of the party was siding with me. Bruck’s eyes simmered as I looked at him without blinking. In them, I could see his thoughts, could see him weighing his options. Once again, I thought of that paragon the monk had kicked out of the party near the Sunspear Great Hall. For several moments I regretted my going against Bruck’s plan.
Without taking his stare from me, he pointed behind himself, to the East. “Let’s move on.” As the party moved to follow his order, he leaned close to me. “If you do something like that again, you’re out. I’m only letting you stay because you’ve proved yourself over the last week. Don’t do it again.”
I nodded, hoping I didn’t look too relieved. The rest of the day was relatively uneventful until we got to Kodlonu Hamlet. Once there, Bruck called the party around him, thanked our four newcomers for their help, and then booted them.
LicensedLuny
Yay!!! TY Hezekiah! I've been watching this thread above all others for updates (and I showed a friend that's asked me a few times since if I'd found new updates.)
Quote:
The new folks were quickly introduced to me—their names don’t matter anymore—and we headed out.
That was great! Just funny in general and had me wondering if they were doomed to some awful, pitiful fate that wound up being easily forgettable. Excellent insta-hook!Quote:
I'm looking forward to the answers for the Canthan Paragon, happy to be away from guild nightmares, yet hunted by Guel the A(a)ssassin and the Bruck's secret master from the city mysteries. What suspense! I'm really hoping these are all breadcrumbs for clever unraveling later on.
(I suspect you'll make us wait a while for all the answers, but that's what makes mysteries fun.)And thanks for telling us about the schedule. 2 more days! Woot!
Luny the hooked
Princess Blades
Well I stumbled across this today and am now officially hooked. Great storytelling! I find myself engaged in the story and always wanting more. Keep up the great work.
HezekiahKurtz
Colossus 49, 1275 DR
Today the worst possible thing that could happen to me happened—short of being killed and not resurrected, that is.
Apparently, yesterday Bruck got enough of leading an eight-person party, for he did not even suggest finding a few more people to join us as we entered the Mehtani Keys. He must have also had a pretty good idea for what we would be facing today, so he brought along Life Bond, and kept it on Kandra and me most of the time. We take the most damage, and today we took a lot of it. So many enemies, so few of us.
We headed East along the Southern edge of the area. I thought we had seen a fair number of corsairs during our journey so far, but today we put down almost as many as we have up until now—apparently an entire shipwrecked crew; a ship lay broken and beaten on the beach. Further East than where we met the corsairs, a temple sits on the area’s edge, half on the beach, half in water. Sadly, we could not find a way to enter. We continued around the perimeter of the area, heading North and then West, slaying more corsairs—I am tempted to say we single-handedly stopped an invasion today. But if the corsairs were easy to take care of, the wildlife was not. The Frigid Scales were simply devastating; had I known about them, I might have brought a few different skills. As it was, I died twice because of them, and by the time we reached a little fishing village on the Northern edge of the keys, I felt very weak and ready for the day to end. Healing simply cannot fix some things; only time can erase the more exhausting effects of dying.
The little fishing village sits right on the beach. I immediately went to the local merchant to lighten my load. I stood there in the sand, showing him my wares. It happened so fast, so suddenly.
A nearby shout drew my attention, but I only had time to turn before a light blue shadow fell over me. Sharp pain jolted through my neck; my trinkets scattered on the ground. A heavy weight fell on top of me and I crumbled backwards. Blood filled my vision, burned my gaze. My lungs were full and dark. Sounds, colors, smells, feeling, and taste all blurred. I began the plunge into that familiar grayness. A moment before I died, I perceived the weight lifting off of my body, the struggling above me—the sound of metal on metal, grunting and cries of pain. I remained dead for only a moment.
My spirit snapped back into my body; the blackness sprung away from my eyes, and it felt like a giant hand plucked me from the sand and dropped me onto my feet. My senses cracked back into focus, and I took three seconds to take in what was happening.
Kandra stood before Guel, her sword a blur as she rained her blade down on his body. Three arrows struck him in rapid succession—thunk, thunk, thunk! From his sluggish attempts to block and step away, he clearly suffered from the effects of Pin Down, although Critical Defense visibly aided his self preservation. Even so, neither the warrior nor the ranger seemed to concern him much. He paid them only peripheral attention, and kept his concentration square on me. Our stares locked. His eyes burned with unquenchable hatred.
When my generous three seconds of self-orienting ended, and more healing strengthened me, I bent to pick up my spear. Midway down, Shadowy Burden fell on me. By the time I looked up, there was only a deep blue glow where Guel had shadow stepped from. With the sound of eerie chimes and a flash, he appeared by my side and struck with a brutal barrage of blow after blow. I tried to block and step away, but could hardly move. At best, I deflected a blade or two before falling. The dual daggers continued to come at me. Before I could make any effort to scramble away, I perished again.
A world of gray opened up below me. Guel bent toward my body, stabbing at my face. My body jerked with his blows, but somehow I still held my spear. Blood sprayed up around the assassin, splashing on his chest, hands, and face. Kandra ploughed into him, striking him in the side of the head with her shield. He sprawled away, landing face down in the sand with a muffled cry. From a very close range, Wez put an arrow through Guel’s thigh and into the ground. He struggled to rise, but Kandra dove at him, swinging at his skull and slicing the back half away. It flipped away through the air. I had only a moment to view the gore before she fell on his head, pushing his face into the sand. Wez fired another Pin Down, this time piercing the center of the assassin’s back. The half skull landed brain-down in the sand. The assassin’s feet jerked, digging at the sand for several moments as his hands relaxed their grip on his daggers. Kandra rolled off of him, to her back, and Wez bent to help her up.
Tearing my eyes from the assassin, realized that a group of villagers had gathered around us in the 30 seconds the scuffle had endured. They stood in silence on the sunny beach, or in the shadows of houses. Most grimaced. Several shielded the faces of children. It was a strange thing to think, given my state and Guel’s finding me, but I wondered if they had ever seen such violence before. Certainly, they had witnessed beasts, fish, and other animals slaughtered—and probably some of their own taken down by the animals. But human-against-human violence is nothing like the violence of nature against man.
For the fourth time that day, Bruck summoned my spirit back to my body. I stumbled to the right, gasping at the chilling shock of life. I stayed afoot only by balancing myself with my spearhead. My face felt warm and wet, but wiping my hand across it only made the problem worse. Bruck watched me for several moments, his face stony; I repressed the urge to ask for more healing.
He turned to look at the crowd, and called out, “Does this man have any friends here? Is he a member of a party?” Not a person moved for the full five seconds it took the healer to turn in a slow circle, looking at everyone. “Then I will bring him back! You are all my witnesses of this, and that he will be bound to me!”
Terror gripped me again—not so much at the possibility of dealing with another of Guel’s attacks, but at why Bruck might want to bring my enemy back. “Are you crazy?” I asked, stepping up to him and pointing down at the assassin. “You can’t rez him! He’ll be right back at my throat!”
Wez knelt and rolled the assassin over. Somehow—coincidentally, I am sure—his eyes stared blankly right at me. I would have preferred him face down.
“Get out of sight.” He pointed to the other end of the village.
“You can’t bring him back!”
“Your DP is pretty high right now. Even I could take you down if I wanted. I’m not bringing you back again today—but I am bringing him back. Do you want to be around when I do?”
I shook my head. With a wide mouth, I looked back-and-forth between Guel’s corpse and Bruck’s stern face.
Kandra touched my shoulder, and then closed her hand over my elbow. “Come on, Jehoaz. Come on.” She started to pull me away, and I followed, still not understanding why Bruck would bring Guel back.
“You stay here, Kandra,” Bruck said. “There’s no telling what this maniac will do when he comes back.”
She looked at me with her eyebrows raised, and shrugged. She let go of my arm, but gave me a gentle push in the back. I did not resist—I really didn’t have the strength—and without looking back walked away through the sand.
I stopped at a bridge over a small inlet from the sea, and sat on a rock well out of sight of the other end of the village. Several children huddled a hundred feet away, at the corner of the nearest building. I barely heard their words, but I saw their fingers pointing. My head spun as I considered what might happen next; nothing good would come of the day’s events, I was sure. Panic grew in me with each passing moment, until I could not sit. On a whim, I stripped off my armor and climbed down to dunk myself in the water. The salt stung in several cuts on my face, and one in particular on my neck; the first fatal blow, I imagine. As I squatted there with the water up to my neck, I wondered how healing could fix Guel’s head. By the time I stood, red floated around me. I moved further up the inlet, away from the ocean, and immersed myself again. Despite the stinging, I did feel better.
I had time to dry and re-dress myself before anyone came for me—and then they all came. Bruck, Wez, Kandra—and Guel. I readied my spear as they approached, knowing there would be no hope if I had to fight even one of them. I could not pull my eyes from the assassin, who stared at me with unblinking hatred. A pang of guilt swelled in me, and I swallowed hard as they stopped in front of me.
“Well, Hezekiah,” Bruck said. “Guel here has told us an interesting story. Someday you’ll have to tell us your side of that story.”
“What did he tell you?” I asked.
“We’ll talk later. Perhaps tomorrow. For now, I want to get back to Kodlonu Hamlet. Today. It’s not far, and with the extra help of an expert assassin, I imagine it won’t take long.”
I could not believe what I was hearing. “He’s joining us?” The assassin clenched his jaw and fists, and he trembled ever so slightly.
“For today. We will see about tomorrow. Let’s get moving.”
And so they started on, and were a good fifty paces away before I had recovered from the shock enough to move. Really, the rest of the evening passed without event, although that seems like quite a silly thing to say, given the tension and fear I felt—feel. I dared not turn my back to Guel, and tried to always keep Bruck between us when we engaged a mob. But the assassin never looked at me. Never spoke to me—never spoke to anyone. As if he were a dutiful slave, he fought by Kandra’s side, and obeyed the monk’s every command. Even now, I am not sure how or why I am not dead, or why Guel is not sneaking into my tent to slay me.
Today the worst possible thing that could happen to me happened—short of being killed and not resurrected, that is.
Apparently, yesterday Bruck got enough of leading an eight-person party, for he did not even suggest finding a few more people to join us as we entered the Mehtani Keys. He must have also had a pretty good idea for what we would be facing today, so he brought along Life Bond, and kept it on Kandra and me most of the time. We take the most damage, and today we took a lot of it. So many enemies, so few of us.
We headed East along the Southern edge of the area. I thought we had seen a fair number of corsairs during our journey so far, but today we put down almost as many as we have up until now—apparently an entire shipwrecked crew; a ship lay broken and beaten on the beach. Further East than where we met the corsairs, a temple sits on the area’s edge, half on the beach, half in water. Sadly, we could not find a way to enter. We continued around the perimeter of the area, heading North and then West, slaying more corsairs—I am tempted to say we single-handedly stopped an invasion today. But if the corsairs were easy to take care of, the wildlife was not. The Frigid Scales were simply devastating; had I known about them, I might have brought a few different skills. As it was, I died twice because of them, and by the time we reached a little fishing village on the Northern edge of the keys, I felt very weak and ready for the day to end. Healing simply cannot fix some things; only time can erase the more exhausting effects of dying.
The little fishing village sits right on the beach. I immediately went to the local merchant to lighten my load. I stood there in the sand, showing him my wares. It happened so fast, so suddenly.
A nearby shout drew my attention, but I only had time to turn before a light blue shadow fell over me. Sharp pain jolted through my neck; my trinkets scattered on the ground. A heavy weight fell on top of me and I crumbled backwards. Blood filled my vision, burned my gaze. My lungs were full and dark. Sounds, colors, smells, feeling, and taste all blurred. I began the plunge into that familiar grayness. A moment before I died, I perceived the weight lifting off of my body, the struggling above me—the sound of metal on metal, grunting and cries of pain. I remained dead for only a moment.
My spirit snapped back into my body; the blackness sprung away from my eyes, and it felt like a giant hand plucked me from the sand and dropped me onto my feet. My senses cracked back into focus, and I took three seconds to take in what was happening.
Kandra stood before Guel, her sword a blur as she rained her blade down on his body. Three arrows struck him in rapid succession—thunk, thunk, thunk! From his sluggish attempts to block and step away, he clearly suffered from the effects of Pin Down, although Critical Defense visibly aided his self preservation. Even so, neither the warrior nor the ranger seemed to concern him much. He paid them only peripheral attention, and kept his concentration square on me. Our stares locked. His eyes burned with unquenchable hatred.
When my generous three seconds of self-orienting ended, and more healing strengthened me, I bent to pick up my spear. Midway down, Shadowy Burden fell on me. By the time I looked up, there was only a deep blue glow where Guel had shadow stepped from. With the sound of eerie chimes and a flash, he appeared by my side and struck with a brutal barrage of blow after blow. I tried to block and step away, but could hardly move. At best, I deflected a blade or two before falling. The dual daggers continued to come at me. Before I could make any effort to scramble away, I perished again.
A world of gray opened up below me. Guel bent toward my body, stabbing at my face. My body jerked with his blows, but somehow I still held my spear. Blood sprayed up around the assassin, splashing on his chest, hands, and face. Kandra ploughed into him, striking him in the side of the head with her shield. He sprawled away, landing face down in the sand with a muffled cry. From a very close range, Wez put an arrow through Guel’s thigh and into the ground. He struggled to rise, but Kandra dove at him, swinging at his skull and slicing the back half away. It flipped away through the air. I had only a moment to view the gore before she fell on his head, pushing his face into the sand. Wez fired another Pin Down, this time piercing the center of the assassin’s back. The half skull landed brain-down in the sand. The assassin’s feet jerked, digging at the sand for several moments as his hands relaxed their grip on his daggers. Kandra rolled off of him, to her back, and Wez bent to help her up.
Tearing my eyes from the assassin, realized that a group of villagers had gathered around us in the 30 seconds the scuffle had endured. They stood in silence on the sunny beach, or in the shadows of houses. Most grimaced. Several shielded the faces of children. It was a strange thing to think, given my state and Guel’s finding me, but I wondered if they had ever seen such violence before. Certainly, they had witnessed beasts, fish, and other animals slaughtered—and probably some of their own taken down by the animals. But human-against-human violence is nothing like the violence of nature against man.
For the fourth time that day, Bruck summoned my spirit back to my body. I stumbled to the right, gasping at the chilling shock of life. I stayed afoot only by balancing myself with my spearhead. My face felt warm and wet, but wiping my hand across it only made the problem worse. Bruck watched me for several moments, his face stony; I repressed the urge to ask for more healing.
He turned to look at the crowd, and called out, “Does this man have any friends here? Is he a member of a party?” Not a person moved for the full five seconds it took the healer to turn in a slow circle, looking at everyone. “Then I will bring him back! You are all my witnesses of this, and that he will be bound to me!”
Terror gripped me again—not so much at the possibility of dealing with another of Guel’s attacks, but at why Bruck might want to bring my enemy back. “Are you crazy?” I asked, stepping up to him and pointing down at the assassin. “You can’t rez him! He’ll be right back at my throat!”
Wez knelt and rolled the assassin over. Somehow—coincidentally, I am sure—his eyes stared blankly right at me. I would have preferred him face down.
“Get out of sight.” He pointed to the other end of the village.
“You can’t bring him back!”
“Your DP is pretty high right now. Even I could take you down if I wanted. I’m not bringing you back again today—but I am bringing him back. Do you want to be around when I do?”
I shook my head. With a wide mouth, I looked back-and-forth between Guel’s corpse and Bruck’s stern face.
Kandra touched my shoulder, and then closed her hand over my elbow. “Come on, Jehoaz. Come on.” She started to pull me away, and I followed, still not understanding why Bruck would bring Guel back.
“You stay here, Kandra,” Bruck said. “There’s no telling what this maniac will do when he comes back.”
She looked at me with her eyebrows raised, and shrugged. She let go of my arm, but gave me a gentle push in the back. I did not resist—I really didn’t have the strength—and without looking back walked away through the sand.
I stopped at a bridge over a small inlet from the sea, and sat on a rock well out of sight of the other end of the village. Several children huddled a hundred feet away, at the corner of the nearest building. I barely heard their words, but I saw their fingers pointing. My head spun as I considered what might happen next; nothing good would come of the day’s events, I was sure. Panic grew in me with each passing moment, until I could not sit. On a whim, I stripped off my armor and climbed down to dunk myself in the water. The salt stung in several cuts on my face, and one in particular on my neck; the first fatal blow, I imagine. As I squatted there with the water up to my neck, I wondered how healing could fix Guel’s head. By the time I stood, red floated around me. I moved further up the inlet, away from the ocean, and immersed myself again. Despite the stinging, I did feel better.
I had time to dry and re-dress myself before anyone came for me—and then they all came. Bruck, Wez, Kandra—and Guel. I readied my spear as they approached, knowing there would be no hope if I had to fight even one of them. I could not pull my eyes from the assassin, who stared at me with unblinking hatred. A pang of guilt swelled in me, and I swallowed hard as they stopped in front of me.
“Well, Hezekiah,” Bruck said. “Guel here has told us an interesting story. Someday you’ll have to tell us your side of that story.”
“What did he tell you?” I asked.
“We’ll talk later. Perhaps tomorrow. For now, I want to get back to Kodlonu Hamlet. Today. It’s not far, and with the extra help of an expert assassin, I imagine it won’t take long.”
I could not believe what I was hearing. “He’s joining us?” The assassin clenched his jaw and fists, and he trembled ever so slightly.
“For today. We will see about tomorrow. Let’s get moving.”
And so they started on, and were a good fifty paces away before I had recovered from the shock enough to move. Really, the rest of the evening passed without event, although that seems like quite a silly thing to say, given the tension and fear I felt—feel. I dared not turn my back to Guel, and tried to always keep Bruck between us when we engaged a mob. But the assassin never looked at me. Never spoke to me—never spoke to anyone. As if he were a dutiful slave, he fought by Kandra’s side, and obeyed the monk’s every command. Even now, I am not sure how or why I am not dead, or why Guel is not sneaking into my tent to slay me.
Shadowfrost
Why tomorrow... WHY? The suspense is killing me! 
TomD22
These are so well written - it captures pve in gw perfectly Keep 'em coming
Keep 'em coming
broodijzer
so awesome. can't wait till the next part!
HezekiahKurtz
Thanks for your comments. They make writing this stuff much more fun.
__________________________________________________ _______________
Colossus 50, 1275 DR
By the time I awoke in the morning—which is to say by the time I got up; I did not really sleep much due to the fear that the Guel would murder me in the night—the assassin was gone. I found Wez sitting atop the small hill in the town’s center. He sat on the ground, his legs bent and his arms wrapped around his knees. He faced East, watching the pink sky of dawn brighten to yellow. As I approached from behind, I wondered if he would welcome me; I was sure to make enough noise that I would not surprise him. He turned his head only slightly, to glance at me sideways as I sat. His face looked pained, troubled.
“Guel seems to be gone,” I said.
“Uh huh,” he said in an airy, absent tone.
He seemed so preoccupied that I wondered if he’d even realized what I’d said. I wanted to talk about Guel and what he might have told my party about the guild. And why had Guel not tried to kill me once he was resurrected? “That was quite a day, yesterday.”
“Uh huh.”
I paused for a moment. “I think I’m going to try to fly today.”
“Uh huh.”
I stared at him, wondering what had him so worried. After a moment, he blinked several times, shook his head, and looked at me. “Huh—what? You’re going to what?”
“Nothing,” I said. “What’s dazing you? Is it me?” I could not fathom what else might be bothering him. “Is it Guel?”
“No, no.” He reached over and patted my knee. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“No, it’s nothing for you to worry about. You have enough trouble right now, don’t you?”
“What did Guel tell you?”
“He’s an interesting person, isn’t he?”
“What do you mean?”
“Very honorable?”
“You’re confusing me.”
“That was quite a story he told about you and him. I am not sure what to believe.”
“It was the only thing I could do--.”
I was interrupted by a voice behind us. “That’s enough discussion on that topic, I think.” It was Bruck, and he was walking up the hill.
Wez rolled his eyes. “Yes, master.”
“Listen,” the monk said, reaching the top of the hill and standing in front of us, “you don’t have to stay in my party if you don’t want to. But as long as you’re in my party, you do what I say.”
Wez shrugged.
Bruck turned his attention to me. “Guel told us everything—he told us his side of the story, anyway.”
“A fascinating tale, I’m sure,” I said. “Do you want to hear what really happened?”
He nodded, raising his eyebrows. “Oh, yes, very much. But not yet. I want to give it a day or two; I want to watch you and see if what he said makes sense. It already makes some sense, given my experiences with you.”
“He has no reason to say anything that would cause sympathy for me.”
“I don’t doubt that. And I don’t doubt that you have no reason to say anything that would cause sympathy for him. But I don’t want to hear it yet. If you are going to stay with us, you are going to wait a day or two before you tell us your version.”
“Why would I leave you?” I asked. Really, I don’t have much reason to leave. I like them as much as I have liked anyone else, even despite Bruck’s merciless, dictatorial leadership style. It annoys me some, sure, but his skill in healing makes up for it—not to mention he’s a cartographer, and can help me explore this continent. Besides, if anything, I have a reason to stay on for a few days so I can tell them my side of the story and hopefully vindicate myself in their eyes.
“I don’t know why you would, but that option is always available to you. It’s available to all of you.” He looked up, past Wez and I. Turning, I was surprised to see Kandra standing behind us; I had not heard her approach. “But, of course, you are all welcome to stay. I like you all well enough—otherwise I would have booted you a long time ago.” He smiled—I could not decide if it was sarcastic or sincere—and then turned and walked away.
When he was out of earshot, Kandra said, “That man has some control issues.”
“Why do we stay?” Wez asked. “The three of us could leave, and find another monk to join us. I don’t think it would be hard.”
“He’s no that bad,” Kandra said. She sat next to me. “He’s fine ninety-nine percent of the time. There are far worse party leaders. You know, the ‘anyone know which way we need to go’ type.”
Wez and I mumbled our agreement; it really was true.
“So, if I can’t tell you what really happened, can you at least tell me what happened yesterday? Where is Guel today? Why didn’t he kill me after he was brought back? He didn’t even try.”
“He’s an honorable man,” Wez said again, as if expecting that the comment would explain it all to me.
“I don’t get it.”
“Apparently,” Kandra said, “we have a custom here in Elona that you do not have in Cantha or Kryta. When a person’s enemy resurrects him, that person becomes the property of the person who did the resurrecting. It’s only fair, after all, that the giver of life can decide what is done with that life.”
“So, Guel is now Bruck’s slave?”
“We don’t use the word slave,” Wez said. “But really, yes. The property is then bound to the owner, to do whatever the owner wishes. It took some convincing—mostly on the part of the villagers—but eventually Guel believed it. Then again, it may have been the horde of fishermen ready to pounce on him if he didn’t honor the custom. Bruck ordered him not to hunt you anymore, and to not hurt you, and he agreed. For now, anyway. Bruck did indicate the hunting ban might be lifted in the future. And Guel was very sure to verify that it only applies to him.”
“Only to him?”
“Apparently there are others from your guild looking for you.”
This news made my stomach lurch. Would no place be safe for me? “And that’s why you say he’s so honorable. He was feet away from me yesterday, and resisted the urge to kill me. He honored his master.”
“Absolutely,” Wez said. “I cannot imagine the strength of will it took him not to break Bruck’s command. He hates you very badly.”
“So, where is he now?”
Wez frowned and shrugged, shook his head. “We don’t know. He and Bruck spent some time talking quietly last night after you had retired. I got up just in time to see him head West. It would be hard for me to believe that Bruck has not sent him on some personal errand.”
“Did he say where the others were? My other guild members?”
Wez shook his head.
I sat in silence for a time, considering this information. My discomfort—so pronounced and obvious only a few minutes before—returned to the subtle unease that I had felt since the killing back in Cantha. It was a vague fear, an itching in the back of my head that no matter what I did, danger and death would find me. The sun peeked over the horizon. A soft wind rustled my hair. Suddenly, something occurred to me, “So, that would explain the voice we heard back in the first city.”
“How so?” Wez asked.
“The voice called Bruck his slave. Said Bruck was bound to him. So, according to your custom, at one point, they were enemies, and the voice killed him and then brought him back.”
“Can voices do that?” Kandra said. Her completely serious face and tone caught me off guard for a moment.
I smacked her leg with the back of my hand. “You know what I mean.”
She smiled, and then feigned innocence by widening her eyes, lifting her shoulders, and raising her hands, palms up.
Wez said, “You’re right, of course. I think Kandra and I had already put that together—I know I had, anyway. I guess we just took it for granted that you would know about that custom.”
I joked, “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“Oh, I won’t, Jeho—. Uh, Hezekiah.”
“About that . . . .”
“No worries,” Wez said, standing. “As Bruck said, we like you well enough to overlook an understandable little lie.” He smiled at me and walked away, in the direction Bruck had gone.
“I can’t tell if he meant that,” I said.
Kandra rose, too. “He did.” She grinned, tapped my leg with the toe of her boot, and followed the ranger.
I must admit that the rest of today has been very good. I tried not to dwell on Guel and other possible guild-members, but to consider the party I am with, and the ease with which we flow from one skirmish to another. Of course, I was careful to obey Bruck’s every order with exactness, and offered suggestions for tactics with caution. Wez and Kandra were the same as always—he offering up his observations as we traveled, she speaking more with actions and looks than words. They did not treat me any differently than they had in days before—I had half-expected them to, given their knowledge about Korhan and the guild.
We traveled back through the Issnur Isles to the Docks, and then into the Cliffs area.
“I am tired of this place,” I commented, meaning the general area; as always, we stayed far away from the cliffs where Bruck had described battles that hadn’t taken place, though it would have been faster to cut across them.
“This will be our last time through here,” Bruck said.
“Promise?” Wez asked.
Bruck grunted. “It won’t be many days until we will be leaving Istan. Kourna and Vabbi await.”
I glanced at the others, and saw anticipation in their eyes. I, too, am anxious to go and see the other cultures in this land—almost as anxious as I am to tell my friends my side of the story. Tonight we are in Blacktide Den. In the morning we will enter the swampy land to the south.
__________________________________________________ _______________
Colossus 50, 1275 DR
By the time I awoke in the morning—which is to say by the time I got up; I did not really sleep much due to the fear that the Guel would murder me in the night—the assassin was gone. I found Wez sitting atop the small hill in the town’s center. He sat on the ground, his legs bent and his arms wrapped around his knees. He faced East, watching the pink sky of dawn brighten to yellow. As I approached from behind, I wondered if he would welcome me; I was sure to make enough noise that I would not surprise him. He turned his head only slightly, to glance at me sideways as I sat. His face looked pained, troubled.
“Guel seems to be gone,” I said.
“Uh huh,” he said in an airy, absent tone.
He seemed so preoccupied that I wondered if he’d even realized what I’d said. I wanted to talk about Guel and what he might have told my party about the guild. And why had Guel not tried to kill me once he was resurrected? “That was quite a day, yesterday.”
“Uh huh.”
I paused for a moment. “I think I’m going to try to fly today.”
“Uh huh.”
I stared at him, wondering what had him so worried. After a moment, he blinked several times, shook his head, and looked at me. “Huh—what? You’re going to what?”
“Nothing,” I said. “What’s dazing you? Is it me?” I could not fathom what else might be bothering him. “Is it Guel?”
“No, no.” He reached over and patted my knee. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“No, it’s nothing for you to worry about. You have enough trouble right now, don’t you?”
“What did Guel tell you?”
“He’s an interesting person, isn’t he?”
“What do you mean?”
“Very honorable?”
“You’re confusing me.”
“That was quite a story he told about you and him. I am not sure what to believe.”
“It was the only thing I could do--.”
I was interrupted by a voice behind us. “That’s enough discussion on that topic, I think.” It was Bruck, and he was walking up the hill.
Wez rolled his eyes. “Yes, master.”
“Listen,” the monk said, reaching the top of the hill and standing in front of us, “you don’t have to stay in my party if you don’t want to. But as long as you’re in my party, you do what I say.”
Wez shrugged.
Bruck turned his attention to me. “Guel told us everything—he told us his side of the story, anyway.”
“A fascinating tale, I’m sure,” I said. “Do you want to hear what really happened?”
He nodded, raising his eyebrows. “Oh, yes, very much. But not yet. I want to give it a day or two; I want to watch you and see if what he said makes sense. It already makes some sense, given my experiences with you.”
“He has no reason to say anything that would cause sympathy for me.”
“I don’t doubt that. And I don’t doubt that you have no reason to say anything that would cause sympathy for him. But I don’t want to hear it yet. If you are going to stay with us, you are going to wait a day or two before you tell us your version.”
“Why would I leave you?” I asked. Really, I don’t have much reason to leave. I like them as much as I have liked anyone else, even despite Bruck’s merciless, dictatorial leadership style. It annoys me some, sure, but his skill in healing makes up for it—not to mention he’s a cartographer, and can help me explore this continent. Besides, if anything, I have a reason to stay on for a few days so I can tell them my side of the story and hopefully vindicate myself in their eyes.
“I don’t know why you would, but that option is always available to you. It’s available to all of you.” He looked up, past Wez and I. Turning, I was surprised to see Kandra standing behind us; I had not heard her approach. “But, of course, you are all welcome to stay. I like you all well enough—otherwise I would have booted you a long time ago.” He smiled—I could not decide if it was sarcastic or sincere—and then turned and walked away.
When he was out of earshot, Kandra said, “That man has some control issues.”
“Why do we stay?” Wez asked. “The three of us could leave, and find another monk to join us. I don’t think it would be hard.”
“He’s no that bad,” Kandra said. She sat next to me. “He’s fine ninety-nine percent of the time. There are far worse party leaders. You know, the ‘anyone know which way we need to go’ type.”
Wez and I mumbled our agreement; it really was true.
“So, if I can’t tell you what really happened, can you at least tell me what happened yesterday? Where is Guel today? Why didn’t he kill me after he was brought back? He didn’t even try.”
“He’s an honorable man,” Wez said again, as if expecting that the comment would explain it all to me.
“I don’t get it.”
“Apparently,” Kandra said, “we have a custom here in Elona that you do not have in Cantha or Kryta. When a person’s enemy resurrects him, that person becomes the property of the person who did the resurrecting. It’s only fair, after all, that the giver of life can decide what is done with that life.”
“So, Guel is now Bruck’s slave?”
“We don’t use the word slave,” Wez said. “But really, yes. The property is then bound to the owner, to do whatever the owner wishes. It took some convincing—mostly on the part of the villagers—but eventually Guel believed it. Then again, it may have been the horde of fishermen ready to pounce on him if he didn’t honor the custom. Bruck ordered him not to hunt you anymore, and to not hurt you, and he agreed. For now, anyway. Bruck did indicate the hunting ban might be lifted in the future. And Guel was very sure to verify that it only applies to him.”
“Only to him?”
“Apparently there are others from your guild looking for you.”
This news made my stomach lurch. Would no place be safe for me? “And that’s why you say he’s so honorable. He was feet away from me yesterday, and resisted the urge to kill me. He honored his master.”
“Absolutely,” Wez said. “I cannot imagine the strength of will it took him not to break Bruck’s command. He hates you very badly.”
“So, where is he now?”
Wez frowned and shrugged, shook his head. “We don’t know. He and Bruck spent some time talking quietly last night after you had retired. I got up just in time to see him head West. It would be hard for me to believe that Bruck has not sent him on some personal errand.”
“Did he say where the others were? My other guild members?”
Wez shook his head.
I sat in silence for a time, considering this information. My discomfort—so pronounced and obvious only a few minutes before—returned to the subtle unease that I had felt since the killing back in Cantha. It was a vague fear, an itching in the back of my head that no matter what I did, danger and death would find me. The sun peeked over the horizon. A soft wind rustled my hair. Suddenly, something occurred to me, “So, that would explain the voice we heard back in the first city.”
“How so?” Wez asked.
“The voice called Bruck his slave. Said Bruck was bound to him. So, according to your custom, at one point, they were enemies, and the voice killed him and then brought him back.”
“Can voices do that?” Kandra said. Her completely serious face and tone caught me off guard for a moment.
I smacked her leg with the back of my hand. “You know what I mean.”
She smiled, and then feigned innocence by widening her eyes, lifting her shoulders, and raising her hands, palms up.
Wez said, “You’re right, of course. I think Kandra and I had already put that together—I know I had, anyway. I guess we just took it for granted that you would know about that custom.”
I joked, “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“Oh, I won’t, Jeho—. Uh, Hezekiah.”
“About that . . . .”
“No worries,” Wez said, standing. “As Bruck said, we like you well enough to overlook an understandable little lie.” He smiled at me and walked away, in the direction Bruck had gone.
“I can’t tell if he meant that,” I said.
Kandra rose, too. “He did.” She grinned, tapped my leg with the toe of her boot, and followed the ranger.
I must admit that the rest of today has been very good. I tried not to dwell on Guel and other possible guild-members, but to consider the party I am with, and the ease with which we flow from one skirmish to another. Of course, I was careful to obey Bruck’s every order with exactness, and offered suggestions for tactics with caution. Wez and Kandra were the same as always—he offering up his observations as we traveled, she speaking more with actions and looks than words. They did not treat me any differently than they had in days before—I had half-expected them to, given their knowledge about Korhan and the guild.
We traveled back through the Issnur Isles to the Docks, and then into the Cliffs area.
“I am tired of this place,” I commented, meaning the general area; as always, we stayed far away from the cliffs where Bruck had described battles that hadn’t taken place, though it would have been faster to cut across them.
“This will be our last time through here,” Bruck said.
“Promise?” Wez asked.
Bruck grunted. “It won’t be many days until we will be leaving Istan. Kourna and Vabbi await.”
I glanced at the others, and saw anticipation in their eyes. I, too, am anxious to go and see the other cultures in this land—almost as anxious as I am to tell my friends my side of the story. Tonight we are in Blacktide Den. In the morning we will enter the swampy land to the south.
The Missing Monk
Really good stuff, keep 'm coming!
broodijzer
oooh very interesting ending on that part. Keep them coming!
HezekiahKurtz
Uh oops! I need to delete that last section. It's meant for a future entry.
Doh!
Forget you saw it, as I may not end up using it.
Doh!
Forget you saw it, as I may not end up using it.
HezekiahKurtz
Sorry no update yesterday. I had a small problem with an email.
__________________________________________________ _________________
Colossus 51, 1275 DR
We departed first thing in the morning into a dismal swamp called Lahtenda Bog. When we weren’t wading through muck, the plush ground squished under our feet. The reek of long-dead flesh hung in the still, rank air, trapped under the canopy of dense and hanging trees. My eyes watered from the stench. My legs itched from the film left by the greasy, thick water; more than once I found myself cursing the short clothing of a Paragon, and wishing for a ray of sunlight to break through the branches. It did not take long for me to look for an escape from the swamp.
Around noon we came across a ruined pair of covered wagons. They sat shattered and broken in a flickering ray of sunlight, half on mushy ground, half in swampy sludge. The cloth of the cover hung loose and tattered, still and sorrowful. We approached with caution, weapons ready, legs moving through the water so slowly they hardly left a ripple. We tilted our heads this way and that, hoping for a better angle to see enemies that might lurk in the deep, nearby shadows. A subtle, fearful dread rose in me with each foot we grew nearer.
“Stop!” I said, hoping I did so loud enough for Wez and Kandra to hear from their positions fifteen and twenty feet ahead of me. They obeyed, and their heads jerked back-and-forth as they searched for a foe.
“What is it?” Bruck asked from only a few feet behind me.
“Do you feel it?” I said.
“I do,” Kandra said. She half turned her head; her left eye, wide and glinting, looked back at me.
“There is something here—in this swamp,” Wez said.
“What is it?” I asked.
From behind us, a voice sounded. It was faint, yet unmistakable: “Shwshwwweeewshshweeew.” That is the only way I can describe it. I understood it perfectly—I could not tell from how far away it came; could have been a hundred yards or six feet. It was not loud, but also not quiet. It came again, this time from ahead of us. “Shwshwweeeerrewshwwwshwww.” It fed my dread, made the emotion swell in my chest. I gasped for breath in the suddenly thick and suffocating air.
“It sounds like whispering,” Wez said. He started to back away from the wagons. “Kandra! Get away from those!” She stepped backwards, as well.
“It’s not coming from there,” I said. “It came from behind us.”
“Not the second time,” said Bruck. “Let’s wait. Be ready.”
We stood in a tight group for no less than five minutes, watching and listening. The ray of light that had danced on the wagons flickered out. Shadows deepened. But eventually, I realized that the feeling had subsided. “I think it’s gone.”
“I don’t feel it, either,” Kandra said.
“What was it?” Wez asked. “I have never felt like that before—not for no apparent reason, anyway.”
“Let’s keep going,” Bruck said. He started on, toward the wagons.
“Do you know what it is?” I asked him.
He stopped with his back toward us. He stood hunched and breathing heavily. After a moment, he looked over his shoulder, and in a raspy voice said, “I may. But let’s get away from here, head to the coast in the West. I will tell you soon enough.”
“Yes, but will it be soon enough?” asked Wez. “Or will it be too late?”
“I’m not certain!” Bruck said. “I’m not certain what it is. If I am wrong, there is no need to make you fear—yet. When I am certain of the danger, I will tell you.” And he splashed on.
We trudged on at a more deliberate and careful pace. The deeper into the area we traveled, the denser the darkness grew. I am not sure how much time passed before I realized that since hearing the voice, we had not encountered any more monsters or corsairs. It only served to amplify my sensitivity to the surroundings, to heighten the tingling sensation in the back of my head that told me we walked on the precipice of “something about to happen.” I wished I knew that cliff was, and what I needed to do to survive it. The thought came to me that I only needed to keep the monk alive.
Eventually we stopped in the shadow of an abandoned hut, and pulled out some food. For several minutes we stood huddled tightly together, facing out into the swamp and not speaking. The drake jerky and crumbly bread tasted like a fine feast compared to the constant rotten taste of the humid air.
Without warning, Bruck, who stood next to me, inhaled sharply and stiffened. In the next moment I understood why: the foreboding I’d felt earlier started to rise again in my veins.
“Not to state the obvious,” Wez said. “But it’s back.”
I shoved the remainder of my bread into my mouth and lifted my spear. My companions hefted their own weapons and stood ready. For ten or fifteen seconds, the dread intensified, flowing through my veins and pumping in my ears. It took effort to keep my hands from shaking. The air thickened. The bread’s taste transformed to bitter and burnt in my mouth. I spit it out, and scraped my tongue with my fingernails. About the time the fear reached its zenith, the whispering returned.
“Shwshwwweeewshshweeew.”
“What is it saying?” Kandra hissed. “It’s quiet—but clear enough that I should be able to understand it.”
“Shwshwwweeewshshweeew.”
And then the emotion began to subside. As quickly as it had come, it was gone.
“It’s speaking another language,” I said. “That has to be it.”
“I don’t think so,” Bruck said.
“Then what is it?” Wez asked. “You seem to know all about this. I think it’s time you shared a little information with us.”
Bruck looked at each of us in turn, his breathing heavy and measured. “Not now. Not here. There is a spot where we can spend the night. Let’s finish exploring this section of the area, and then we can go there to settle in for the night. Does that sound fair enough?”
“Unless we’re dead before then,” Wez said.
We pressed on. About thirty minutes later we emerged from the canopy of trees, onto a beach. Thick, dark clouds filled the sky from horizon to horizon, and a fresh breeze finally stirred in my hair. I breathed long and deep, glad to be free of the constricting, heavy air of the bog. Relief flooded into me, like a wave of unearthly healing. On a whim I ran into the water. My three companions followed as I dove into the surf, washing my clothes and skin of the slime and filth. Refreshed and reassured, I emerged laughing. Kandra came up next to me, losing her balance as a wave rolled into us. She fell against me. The two of us went under and struggled to regain balance. Our arms and legs bumped and brushed each other, until coughing and sputtering we found our feet. Laughing, we returned to the shore, where we collapsed next to each other.
As suddenly as the relief had filled me only moments before, it was replaced by the return of the dread, which rose sharply, caustic and piercing, stronger than it had been either of the two other times. I jumped to my feet in a panic, wondering where I had dropped my spear. I spotted it twenty feet ashore, and scrambled toward it.
The whispering tickled my ears. “Shwshwwweeewshshweeew.”
I reached the weapon and turned so I could gauge the status of the other party members. Kandra stood in a stance, her blade ready. Wez stood knee-deep in water, his bow drawn. Bruck was casting Mark of Protection on himself. Wanting to be near them, I moved back toward the water. They must have felt the same way, for by the time the second whisper came, we all stood within fifteen feet of each other. I struggle not to shudder at the unintelligible whispering.
And then, just as before, once the second whisper finished, the fear it brought began to subside. In half a minute, only its memory remained. The repeated swell of the ocean filled the silence between us.
After at least a minute, Wez said, “It’s not so bad the third time.”
“Let’s move on,” Bruck said. “It will take us an hour to get where I want to go.”
“We’re not going back in there,” I said.
“It’s safer in there,” Bruck said, “than being out in the open. There is a sacred, ancient spot. You will feel better when we get there.”
And, surprisingly, I do feel better. The place feels like a different world than thirty feet away, in the thick of the bog. It’s a small alcove dominated by three large stone heads facing each other. They are like the ones being unearthed in the Jokanur Diggings. No tree branches cover the area, so the air is not muggy and constricted like in the midst of the swamp. A small breeze even blows. But more than any of that, there is a feeling here. I suppose Bruck was right to use the word sacred; this place feels like a sanctuary, a haven. It feels undisturbed. Its silence is not unnatural, but welcome and peaceful.
As we sat in a circle, feeling safe around a small fire, Bruck told us about the whispering.
“We live in a physical realm, in a place where we see and feel and touch everything around us. There are other realms—you have probably heard talk of them. Heaven. Hell. The Mists. Others. There are beings from these realms that come here, that try to exert influence over us, and to have control. The voice you hear is that of the beings from one of those realms.”
“What, from heaven? Hell?” I asked.
“I vote heaven,” Wez said, giving me a crooked smile.
“I am not sure which realm,” Bruck said. “But given the way it makes me feel, I don’t know this being’s home is one we would want to visit. All I know is that the voices of these beings have power. They influence those that understand their words, push them toward action without their really even understanding why they are doing it. Quite simply, their words have power over our weak minds.”
“Why can’t we understand it? Or see it?” I asked.
Bruck shook his head. “I am not sure what determines who can hear and understand their words. I cannot understand them any better than you—it comes out as whispering gibberish. And we cannot see the being unless it makes itself visible to us. Clearly, it has chosen not to—for which I am thankful. I have seen a being of this type before. It has been many years, but its speech was the same, and caused the same fear.”
“Where did you see one?” I asked.
He shook his head and waved vaguely to the East. “In the plains out in a Vabbi area. For all I know, this being could be the same one.” He paused to swallow hard, and shuddered as he looked into the fire. “That is—one of the same ones. There were actually two, there, warring with each other. They had other beings from their realms fighting for them and with them, and many minions from our own plane. Some human. Some animal. Some ‘intelligent.’ Others not. I do not understand what really happened. I don’t know which faction won or lost. Beings from our realm seem to switch sides repeatedly. One moment they attacked one foe, and the next they were turning and beating on an ally. It went back-and-forth so much that I could not keep track. And always that constant, unending whispering.”
He stared into the fire in silence. Eventually he looked back up at us. “I fear that perhaps we are stuck between another such battle, here in these swamps.”
“What do we do?” Kandra asked.
He spread his hands wide. “We press on, exploring as planned. We could return to the Blacktide Den, I guess. But who is to say we don’t get caught up in it on our way back there. We may as well press on.”
“Can we stay here until it passes?” I asked.
“This place is not invulnerable. We can be caught up in it here as well as at any other place. It could happen at any moment—it could happen in the morning, or never.”
“Then we just keep going,” Wez said. “Just go on our merry-little way and hope we don’t get smashed between two invisible beings from other-worldly realms that want to control us with their whispering gibberish. Sounds perfectly reasonable. Great plan.”
Well, none of us could come up with anything better, and now we wait for morning.
__________________________________________________ _________________
Colossus 51, 1275 DR
We departed first thing in the morning into a dismal swamp called Lahtenda Bog. When we weren’t wading through muck, the plush ground squished under our feet. The reek of long-dead flesh hung in the still, rank air, trapped under the canopy of dense and hanging trees. My eyes watered from the stench. My legs itched from the film left by the greasy, thick water; more than once I found myself cursing the short clothing of a Paragon, and wishing for a ray of sunlight to break through the branches. It did not take long for me to look for an escape from the swamp.
Around noon we came across a ruined pair of covered wagons. They sat shattered and broken in a flickering ray of sunlight, half on mushy ground, half in swampy sludge. The cloth of the cover hung loose and tattered, still and sorrowful. We approached with caution, weapons ready, legs moving through the water so slowly they hardly left a ripple. We tilted our heads this way and that, hoping for a better angle to see enemies that might lurk in the deep, nearby shadows. A subtle, fearful dread rose in me with each foot we grew nearer.
“Stop!” I said, hoping I did so loud enough for Wez and Kandra to hear from their positions fifteen and twenty feet ahead of me. They obeyed, and their heads jerked back-and-forth as they searched for a foe.
“What is it?” Bruck asked from only a few feet behind me.
“Do you feel it?” I said.
“I do,” Kandra said. She half turned her head; her left eye, wide and glinting, looked back at me.
“There is something here—in this swamp,” Wez said.
“What is it?” I asked.
From behind us, a voice sounded. It was faint, yet unmistakable: “Shwshwwweeewshshweeew.” That is the only way I can describe it. I understood it perfectly—I could not tell from how far away it came; could have been a hundred yards or six feet. It was not loud, but also not quiet. It came again, this time from ahead of us. “Shwshwweeeerrewshwwwshwww.” It fed my dread, made the emotion swell in my chest. I gasped for breath in the suddenly thick and suffocating air.
“It sounds like whispering,” Wez said. He started to back away from the wagons. “Kandra! Get away from those!” She stepped backwards, as well.
“It’s not coming from there,” I said. “It came from behind us.”
“Not the second time,” said Bruck. “Let’s wait. Be ready.”
We stood in a tight group for no less than five minutes, watching and listening. The ray of light that had danced on the wagons flickered out. Shadows deepened. But eventually, I realized that the feeling had subsided. “I think it’s gone.”
“I don’t feel it, either,” Kandra said.
“What was it?” Wez asked. “I have never felt like that before—not for no apparent reason, anyway.”
“Let’s keep going,” Bruck said. He started on, toward the wagons.
“Do you know what it is?” I asked him.
He stopped with his back toward us. He stood hunched and breathing heavily. After a moment, he looked over his shoulder, and in a raspy voice said, “I may. But let’s get away from here, head to the coast in the West. I will tell you soon enough.”
“Yes, but will it be soon enough?” asked Wez. “Or will it be too late?”
“I’m not certain!” Bruck said. “I’m not certain what it is. If I am wrong, there is no need to make you fear—yet. When I am certain of the danger, I will tell you.” And he splashed on.
We trudged on at a more deliberate and careful pace. The deeper into the area we traveled, the denser the darkness grew. I am not sure how much time passed before I realized that since hearing the voice, we had not encountered any more monsters or corsairs. It only served to amplify my sensitivity to the surroundings, to heighten the tingling sensation in the back of my head that told me we walked on the precipice of “something about to happen.” I wished I knew that cliff was, and what I needed to do to survive it. The thought came to me that I only needed to keep the monk alive.
Eventually we stopped in the shadow of an abandoned hut, and pulled out some food. For several minutes we stood huddled tightly together, facing out into the swamp and not speaking. The drake jerky and crumbly bread tasted like a fine feast compared to the constant rotten taste of the humid air.
Without warning, Bruck, who stood next to me, inhaled sharply and stiffened. In the next moment I understood why: the foreboding I’d felt earlier started to rise again in my veins.
“Not to state the obvious,” Wez said. “But it’s back.”
I shoved the remainder of my bread into my mouth and lifted my spear. My companions hefted their own weapons and stood ready. For ten or fifteen seconds, the dread intensified, flowing through my veins and pumping in my ears. It took effort to keep my hands from shaking. The air thickened. The bread’s taste transformed to bitter and burnt in my mouth. I spit it out, and scraped my tongue with my fingernails. About the time the fear reached its zenith, the whispering returned.
“Shwshwwweeewshshweeew.”
“What is it saying?” Kandra hissed. “It’s quiet—but clear enough that I should be able to understand it.”
“Shwshwwweeewshshweeew.”
And then the emotion began to subside. As quickly as it had come, it was gone.
“It’s speaking another language,” I said. “That has to be it.”
“I don’t think so,” Bruck said.
“Then what is it?” Wez asked. “You seem to know all about this. I think it’s time you shared a little information with us.”
Bruck looked at each of us in turn, his breathing heavy and measured. “Not now. Not here. There is a spot where we can spend the night. Let’s finish exploring this section of the area, and then we can go there to settle in for the night. Does that sound fair enough?”
“Unless we’re dead before then,” Wez said.
We pressed on. About thirty minutes later we emerged from the canopy of trees, onto a beach. Thick, dark clouds filled the sky from horizon to horizon, and a fresh breeze finally stirred in my hair. I breathed long and deep, glad to be free of the constricting, heavy air of the bog. Relief flooded into me, like a wave of unearthly healing. On a whim I ran into the water. My three companions followed as I dove into the surf, washing my clothes and skin of the slime and filth. Refreshed and reassured, I emerged laughing. Kandra came up next to me, losing her balance as a wave rolled into us. She fell against me. The two of us went under and struggled to regain balance. Our arms and legs bumped and brushed each other, until coughing and sputtering we found our feet. Laughing, we returned to the shore, where we collapsed next to each other.
As suddenly as the relief had filled me only moments before, it was replaced by the return of the dread, which rose sharply, caustic and piercing, stronger than it had been either of the two other times. I jumped to my feet in a panic, wondering where I had dropped my spear. I spotted it twenty feet ashore, and scrambled toward it.
The whispering tickled my ears. “Shwshwwweeewshshweeew.”
I reached the weapon and turned so I could gauge the status of the other party members. Kandra stood in a stance, her blade ready. Wez stood knee-deep in water, his bow drawn. Bruck was casting Mark of Protection on himself. Wanting to be near them, I moved back toward the water. They must have felt the same way, for by the time the second whisper came, we all stood within fifteen feet of each other. I struggle not to shudder at the unintelligible whispering.
And then, just as before, once the second whisper finished, the fear it brought began to subside. In half a minute, only its memory remained. The repeated swell of the ocean filled the silence between us.
After at least a minute, Wez said, “It’s not so bad the third time.”
“Let’s move on,” Bruck said. “It will take us an hour to get where I want to go.”
“We’re not going back in there,” I said.
“It’s safer in there,” Bruck said, “than being out in the open. There is a sacred, ancient spot. You will feel better when we get there.”
And, surprisingly, I do feel better. The place feels like a different world than thirty feet away, in the thick of the bog. It’s a small alcove dominated by three large stone heads facing each other. They are like the ones being unearthed in the Jokanur Diggings. No tree branches cover the area, so the air is not muggy and constricted like in the midst of the swamp. A small breeze even blows. But more than any of that, there is a feeling here. I suppose Bruck was right to use the word sacred; this place feels like a sanctuary, a haven. It feels undisturbed. Its silence is not unnatural, but welcome and peaceful.
As we sat in a circle, feeling safe around a small fire, Bruck told us about the whispering.
“We live in a physical realm, in a place where we see and feel and touch everything around us. There are other realms—you have probably heard talk of them. Heaven. Hell. The Mists. Others. There are beings from these realms that come here, that try to exert influence over us, and to have control. The voice you hear is that of the beings from one of those realms.”
“What, from heaven? Hell?” I asked.
“I vote heaven,” Wez said, giving me a crooked smile.
“I am not sure which realm,” Bruck said. “But given the way it makes me feel, I don’t know this being’s home is one we would want to visit. All I know is that the voices of these beings have power. They influence those that understand their words, push them toward action without their really even understanding why they are doing it. Quite simply, their words have power over our weak minds.”
“Why can’t we understand it? Or see it?” I asked.
Bruck shook his head. “I am not sure what determines who can hear and understand their words. I cannot understand them any better than you—it comes out as whispering gibberish. And we cannot see the being unless it makes itself visible to us. Clearly, it has chosen not to—for which I am thankful. I have seen a being of this type before. It has been many years, but its speech was the same, and caused the same fear.”
“Where did you see one?” I asked.
He shook his head and waved vaguely to the East. “In the plains out in a Vabbi area. For all I know, this being could be the same one.” He paused to swallow hard, and shuddered as he looked into the fire. “That is—one of the same ones. There were actually two, there, warring with each other. They had other beings from their realms fighting for them and with them, and many minions from our own plane. Some human. Some animal. Some ‘intelligent.’ Others not. I do not understand what really happened. I don’t know which faction won or lost. Beings from our realm seem to switch sides repeatedly. One moment they attacked one foe, and the next they were turning and beating on an ally. It went back-and-forth so much that I could not keep track. And always that constant, unending whispering.”
He stared into the fire in silence. Eventually he looked back up at us. “I fear that perhaps we are stuck between another such battle, here in these swamps.”
“What do we do?” Kandra asked.
He spread his hands wide. “We press on, exploring as planned. We could return to the Blacktide Den, I guess. But who is to say we don’t get caught up in it on our way back there. We may as well press on.”
“Can we stay here until it passes?” I asked.
“This place is not invulnerable. We can be caught up in it here as well as at any other place. It could happen at any moment—it could happen in the morning, or never.”
“Then we just keep going,” Wez said. “Just go on our merry-little way and hope we don’t get smashed between two invisible beings from other-worldly realms that want to control us with their whispering gibberish. Sounds perfectly reasonable. Great plan.”
Well, none of us could come up with anything better, and now we wait for morning.
broodijzer
excellent piece of work again. keep up the good work!
The Missing Monk
(another) Good piece
The Missing Monk
Can't wait for the next piece!
HezekiahKurtz
Colossus 52, 1275 DR
We really should have just turned and gone back to Blacktide Den. It would have been smarter. But, as they say—eyes in the back of your head see better than the ones on the front.
We headed South from the shrines, moving as quickly as we could. We still encountered no other living animals—no skales or harpies, corsairs or rinkhals. The air hung quiet and still. I swear that even the trees waited in silence; the prickly shrubs and stinging weeds remained motionless and ready, anxious for something. I listened at every step for the invisible being’s whispers, probed my heart for the sudden fear.
We moved with such speed—with such a complete lack of opposition—that before mid-morning Bruck announced that we had almost finished. The only place left to explore were the ruins of a once-great city. I could not see any buildings or man-made structures through the tree branches, but I knew when we started to draw near because the inexplicable fear touched my heart. At first it tingled subtly and weakly, but it grew stronger with each step. Before much longer, the whispering gibberish started.
“We should turn back,” Kandra said. Her voice shook.
“You can,” Bruck said. “I want to see what is there.”
Strangely, so did I. A compelling, deadly fascination overpowered the instinct to turn and run. I foolishly desired to see one of these other-worldly beings. We all continued on. Gradually, as the gibberish grew stronger, and as the fear intensified, a deep, angry rumble—like the sound of a busy marketplace tainted with aggression—rose from the direction we traveled. We continued until cresting a hill and rounding a corner, when the ruins came into view. Ducking off of the path, we hid behind some trees to observe.
A wide, long courtyard spread out before us, toward the West. On the side opposite us the swamp encroached over a broken, defeated wall. At both ends—North and South—stood tan stone buildings of an ancient architecture. They were blocky yet majestic, strong yet crumbling. I suppose I might have found them stunning were it not for the source of that angry rumble.
In the midst of the buildings, on each end of the courtyard, an army—I can think of no other word for them—was assembled. These were not like any other fighting forces I had ever seen. They did not stand in rows and ranks. I saw no apparent leaders or organized battalions. Each army simply consisted of a boiling mass of things—corsairs, drakes, skales, rikhnals, harpies, spiders, locusts, bogas, and even an occasional Sunspear or two. It was hard to tell exactly what was happening in the groups, for there was no organization. Most of the individuals moved constantly, darting this way or that, sitting or standing. The front-most ranks frequently swelled forward, raising weapons or claws in rage toward the opposite force, and shouting or roaring or bellowing. But like a wave sliding back-and-forth on a beach, they would soon retreat back to their original position, only to move forward again in a few seconds.
Strangely, the mish-mash of soldiers even frequently fought amongst themselves. In the few minutes we stood there, I saw no fewer than six creatures simply turn and pounce on a neighbor, only to be mobbed and slaughtered by nearby allies. I was certain that each army balanced on the verge of immediate self destruction.
We waited there, captivated and dumbstruck, watching as these two armies faced each other and fought with themselves. The whispering continued, constant and piercing. Eventually, I discerned two voices—one coming from the South, the other from the North. One voice for each army. The words melded in my head, drowning out my thoughts. I have never known fear like I felt then—and not simply the fear inspired by the voices, but also by the riotous companies before us. It seemed they would break forth at any moment and clash in chaos. I did not know how we would escape such a battle.
A ruckus suddenly rose behind us, like the sound of a hundred horses stampeding through the mush. We turned to see no fewer than forty skales splashing through the swamp, roaring and gnashing their teeth as the headed directly for us.
In retrospect, I find it amazing how my mind analyzes situations so quickly, and yet leaves me unable to act. And that’s how I stood for several moments—frozen in inaction and indecision. Surely, I thought, we could not fight such a horde as that, and we could not escape them by trying to get around or through them. But the other direction held greater danger; stepping out into the open would put us in the middle of the courtyard, between two assumedly hostile armies. Neither option seemed viable—and the dread already in my heart did exactly not inspire action.
“Run!” shouted Bruck, and he bolted out into the open.
“Son of a harpy!” Wez said. “He’s nuts!” But he started to run after the monk. Kandra and I looked at each other, shrugged, and followed.
Immediately a clamor rose around us as the armies erupted in shouting, roaring, and screeching. The force to the left surged forward, teeming between buildings and out of windows and doors, into the clearing. Not a second later, the army on our right leapt into motion. Bruck continued at full speed, straight across the courtyard, as if wanting to make it across to the wall and swamp on the other side. I did not think we could possibly attain the goal—surely the armies would crush us in their midst, like two moving walls decimating four unfortunate insects when they met. Blood and adrenaline pounded in my ears, nearly covering the whispering, almost making me forget the terror racing along my skin. Kandra cast Charge. Magically, my legs churned faster than otherwise possible.
Across the way, a gaggle of harpies emerged from the trees, wings spread wide and weapon pointed forward as they skimmed over the ground, directly at us. Without hesitating, Bruck—thirty feet ahead of me—turned sharply to the right. With only an instant’s hesitation he regained his speed, and ran directly towards the advancing army. Wez and Kandra followed.
My change of course was not so unflinching or tight. In fact, I stopped dead in my tracks, confused and horrified at my three apparently suicidal companions. The ground shook. The air rippled at the sound of the impending clash, at the charging of the armies. Bruck turned his head and saw that I had stopped. Still not slowing, he beckoned for me to follow, and shouted something I could not hear over the din. And then he disappeared into the blur of skales, rinkal, harpies, and corsairs.
It was panic then—only panic—that spurred me on; if he died, the rest of us stood no chance. Ignoring the skales behind me, the harpies before me, and the horde to my left, I turned and barreled straight for the spot where I had last seen Bruck. Wez fired an arrow before he, too, was swallowed up. Kandra met a rinkal with blade singing, and then I saw her no more. The advancing, churning wall of fangs, claws, and scimitars consumed my field of vision. I hurled a spear at the nearest corsair, and he went down. A rigdgeback took his place at the front, trampling the fallen’s body.
I did not have time to throw another spear. Only fifteen feet before we would have collided, the wall parted before me as if some gigantic, invisible and impenetrable wedge protected me. The creatures—every last one of them—passed a few feet to my side, as if they did not see me. In shock I lowered my spear, but somehow continued to run. Mud splashed up around me, onto my clothes and into my face. The whispering continued, and the fear raged as strong as ever—but not a single creature engaged me. None of them raised a weapon or bared teeth in my direction. I could not fathom what was happening.
Ten seconds passed. Fifteen. Twenty. Me, still running, hardly believing I still lived with such a ravenous mess of enemies all around me. Not knowing where I was headed—and not feeling like I had any control over it, anyway—I exited the courtyard via a narrow street with columns and buildings rising up on both sides. My legs burned and my chest ached. The crowd began to thin. I thought I caught a glimpse of Kandra up ahead, and renewed my sprint. In another twenty seconds, as I came to the edge of town, the last of the creatures were behind me.
But that did not mean I was in a better situation.
I skidded to a stop at the edge of a muddy pool of water, next to Kandra and Wez. Although the din of the battle behind us was still loud, the whispering all but smothered it. With one hand I clutched my spear, and with another I grabbed Wez’s shoulder—it was all I could do to keep from fleeing. Bruck stood ten feet ahead of us, knee-deep in muck, his staff—glowing at one end with a blinding white light—raised over his head in a posture of defense.
A beast hovered above and before him, fifteen feet off the ground. I could not tell by what means it levitated. If there were wings, I could not see them. If it was magic, I saw no glow of any enchantment. In fact, darkness seemed to emanate from the creature, to consume all light around it. Because of that, I am not sure how many legs it had, or how many arms. I am sure it stood upright, like a human. The darkness obscured everything immediately surrounding the creature, but somehow I could see its skin, which shifted in color and texture, from light red to deep red to black—I can only compare it to what a person who has had his skin burned off might look like if the muscles and sinews blurred and merged and shifted. Its head was that of a human, but misshapen and ever-changing. One moment it was wider. Another moment it was narrower. A bulge appeared at its hairless crown, and then disappeared. Another on its chin. Only one thing stayed constant—one of the two mouths moved.
In that moment, I knew this being was the source of the whispering.
It opened its other mouth, and spewed forth a voice that cracked like bones breaking. “Your task is not here. Why have you disturbed this aspect of the master’s plan?”
“I did not do it intentionally!” Bruck said. His voice sounded like a pig’s squeal, and his body shook. I can only imagine that the being was doing something unseeable to him. “I was only trying to find the signet our master seeks!”
The being considered this information for several moments. It’s glowing yellow eyes—all four of them; two in the front, and one where ears would have been on a human—smoldered. The lower mouth continued to move, to speak the gibberish. “Do not cause more problems in this nation. The signet is not here. You must leave—go to Vabbi or Kourna. Search there.”
“I will! Please! Let us go!”
With a deafening crack, followed by the rushing sound of a tornado, the being exploded forward, over our heads and toward the sound of battle. I turned to watch him go, but he moved so quickly that I only saw him for a moment as he disappeared into the city.
Bruck collapsed into the bog. Wez jumped to him, pulling him gasping out of the water.
“Get us . . .” Bruck said. He struggled to open his eyes. The staff slipped from his fingers. “Get us . . . out of here. Far as you can . . . .” And then his eyes rolled back, and he went limp.
We carried him northward as fast as we could. He has still not regained consciousness—even now, deep into the night as we rest in a tent in Blacktide Den.
We really should have just turned and gone back to Blacktide Den. It would have been smarter. But, as they say—eyes in the back of your head see better than the ones on the front.
We headed South from the shrines, moving as quickly as we could. We still encountered no other living animals—no skales or harpies, corsairs or rinkhals. The air hung quiet and still. I swear that even the trees waited in silence; the prickly shrubs and stinging weeds remained motionless and ready, anxious for something. I listened at every step for the invisible being’s whispers, probed my heart for the sudden fear.
We moved with such speed—with such a complete lack of opposition—that before mid-morning Bruck announced that we had almost finished. The only place left to explore were the ruins of a once-great city. I could not see any buildings or man-made structures through the tree branches, but I knew when we started to draw near because the inexplicable fear touched my heart. At first it tingled subtly and weakly, but it grew stronger with each step. Before much longer, the whispering gibberish started.
“We should turn back,” Kandra said. Her voice shook.
“You can,” Bruck said. “I want to see what is there.”
Strangely, so did I. A compelling, deadly fascination overpowered the instinct to turn and run. I foolishly desired to see one of these other-worldly beings. We all continued on. Gradually, as the gibberish grew stronger, and as the fear intensified, a deep, angry rumble—like the sound of a busy marketplace tainted with aggression—rose from the direction we traveled. We continued until cresting a hill and rounding a corner, when the ruins came into view. Ducking off of the path, we hid behind some trees to observe.
A wide, long courtyard spread out before us, toward the West. On the side opposite us the swamp encroached over a broken, defeated wall. At both ends—North and South—stood tan stone buildings of an ancient architecture. They were blocky yet majestic, strong yet crumbling. I suppose I might have found them stunning were it not for the source of that angry rumble.
In the midst of the buildings, on each end of the courtyard, an army—I can think of no other word for them—was assembled. These were not like any other fighting forces I had ever seen. They did not stand in rows and ranks. I saw no apparent leaders or organized battalions. Each army simply consisted of a boiling mass of things—corsairs, drakes, skales, rikhnals, harpies, spiders, locusts, bogas, and even an occasional Sunspear or two. It was hard to tell exactly what was happening in the groups, for there was no organization. Most of the individuals moved constantly, darting this way or that, sitting or standing. The front-most ranks frequently swelled forward, raising weapons or claws in rage toward the opposite force, and shouting or roaring or bellowing. But like a wave sliding back-and-forth on a beach, they would soon retreat back to their original position, only to move forward again in a few seconds.
Strangely, the mish-mash of soldiers even frequently fought amongst themselves. In the few minutes we stood there, I saw no fewer than six creatures simply turn and pounce on a neighbor, only to be mobbed and slaughtered by nearby allies. I was certain that each army balanced on the verge of immediate self destruction.
We waited there, captivated and dumbstruck, watching as these two armies faced each other and fought with themselves. The whispering continued, constant and piercing. Eventually, I discerned two voices—one coming from the South, the other from the North. One voice for each army. The words melded in my head, drowning out my thoughts. I have never known fear like I felt then—and not simply the fear inspired by the voices, but also by the riotous companies before us. It seemed they would break forth at any moment and clash in chaos. I did not know how we would escape such a battle.
A ruckus suddenly rose behind us, like the sound of a hundred horses stampeding through the mush. We turned to see no fewer than forty skales splashing through the swamp, roaring and gnashing their teeth as the headed directly for us.
In retrospect, I find it amazing how my mind analyzes situations so quickly, and yet leaves me unable to act. And that’s how I stood for several moments—frozen in inaction and indecision. Surely, I thought, we could not fight such a horde as that, and we could not escape them by trying to get around or through them. But the other direction held greater danger; stepping out into the open would put us in the middle of the courtyard, between two assumedly hostile armies. Neither option seemed viable—and the dread already in my heart did exactly not inspire action.
“Run!” shouted Bruck, and he bolted out into the open.
“Son of a harpy!” Wez said. “He’s nuts!” But he started to run after the monk. Kandra and I looked at each other, shrugged, and followed.
Immediately a clamor rose around us as the armies erupted in shouting, roaring, and screeching. The force to the left surged forward, teeming between buildings and out of windows and doors, into the clearing. Not a second later, the army on our right leapt into motion. Bruck continued at full speed, straight across the courtyard, as if wanting to make it across to the wall and swamp on the other side. I did not think we could possibly attain the goal—surely the armies would crush us in their midst, like two moving walls decimating four unfortunate insects when they met. Blood and adrenaline pounded in my ears, nearly covering the whispering, almost making me forget the terror racing along my skin. Kandra cast Charge. Magically, my legs churned faster than otherwise possible.
Across the way, a gaggle of harpies emerged from the trees, wings spread wide and weapon pointed forward as they skimmed over the ground, directly at us. Without hesitating, Bruck—thirty feet ahead of me—turned sharply to the right. With only an instant’s hesitation he regained his speed, and ran directly towards the advancing army. Wez and Kandra followed.
My change of course was not so unflinching or tight. In fact, I stopped dead in my tracks, confused and horrified at my three apparently suicidal companions. The ground shook. The air rippled at the sound of the impending clash, at the charging of the armies. Bruck turned his head and saw that I had stopped. Still not slowing, he beckoned for me to follow, and shouted something I could not hear over the din. And then he disappeared into the blur of skales, rinkal, harpies, and corsairs.
It was panic then—only panic—that spurred me on; if he died, the rest of us stood no chance. Ignoring the skales behind me, the harpies before me, and the horde to my left, I turned and barreled straight for the spot where I had last seen Bruck. Wez fired an arrow before he, too, was swallowed up. Kandra met a rinkal with blade singing, and then I saw her no more. The advancing, churning wall of fangs, claws, and scimitars consumed my field of vision. I hurled a spear at the nearest corsair, and he went down. A rigdgeback took his place at the front, trampling the fallen’s body.
I did not have time to throw another spear. Only fifteen feet before we would have collided, the wall parted before me as if some gigantic, invisible and impenetrable wedge protected me. The creatures—every last one of them—passed a few feet to my side, as if they did not see me. In shock I lowered my spear, but somehow continued to run. Mud splashed up around me, onto my clothes and into my face. The whispering continued, and the fear raged as strong as ever—but not a single creature engaged me. None of them raised a weapon or bared teeth in my direction. I could not fathom what was happening.
Ten seconds passed. Fifteen. Twenty. Me, still running, hardly believing I still lived with such a ravenous mess of enemies all around me. Not knowing where I was headed—and not feeling like I had any control over it, anyway—I exited the courtyard via a narrow street with columns and buildings rising up on both sides. My legs burned and my chest ached. The crowd began to thin. I thought I caught a glimpse of Kandra up ahead, and renewed my sprint. In another twenty seconds, as I came to the edge of town, the last of the creatures were behind me.
But that did not mean I was in a better situation.
I skidded to a stop at the edge of a muddy pool of water, next to Kandra and Wez. Although the din of the battle behind us was still loud, the whispering all but smothered it. With one hand I clutched my spear, and with another I grabbed Wez’s shoulder—it was all I could do to keep from fleeing. Bruck stood ten feet ahead of us, knee-deep in muck, his staff—glowing at one end with a blinding white light—raised over his head in a posture of defense.
A beast hovered above and before him, fifteen feet off the ground. I could not tell by what means it levitated. If there were wings, I could not see them. If it was magic, I saw no glow of any enchantment. In fact, darkness seemed to emanate from the creature, to consume all light around it. Because of that, I am not sure how many legs it had, or how many arms. I am sure it stood upright, like a human. The darkness obscured everything immediately surrounding the creature, but somehow I could see its skin, which shifted in color and texture, from light red to deep red to black—I can only compare it to what a person who has had his skin burned off might look like if the muscles and sinews blurred and merged and shifted. Its head was that of a human, but misshapen and ever-changing. One moment it was wider. Another moment it was narrower. A bulge appeared at its hairless crown, and then disappeared. Another on its chin. Only one thing stayed constant—one of the two mouths moved.
In that moment, I knew this being was the source of the whispering.
It opened its other mouth, and spewed forth a voice that cracked like bones breaking. “Your task is not here. Why have you disturbed this aspect of the master’s plan?”
“I did not do it intentionally!” Bruck said. His voice sounded like a pig’s squeal, and his body shook. I can only imagine that the being was doing something unseeable to him. “I was only trying to find the signet our master seeks!”
The being considered this information for several moments. It’s glowing yellow eyes—all four of them; two in the front, and one where ears would have been on a human—smoldered. The lower mouth continued to move, to speak the gibberish. “Do not cause more problems in this nation. The signet is not here. You must leave—go to Vabbi or Kourna. Search there.”
“I will! Please! Let us go!”
With a deafening crack, followed by the rushing sound of a tornado, the being exploded forward, over our heads and toward the sound of battle. I turned to watch him go, but he moved so quickly that I only saw him for a moment as he disappeared into the city.
Bruck collapsed into the bog. Wez jumped to him, pulling him gasping out of the water.
“Get us . . .” Bruck said. He struggled to open his eyes. The staff slipped from his fingers. “Get us . . . out of here. Far as you can . . . .” And then his eyes rolled back, and he went limp.
We carried him northward as fast as we could. He has still not regained consciousness—even now, deep into the night as we rest in a tent in Blacktide Den.