Tales By The Fire

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  This topic is deleted!
  • Voight

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  Nathelin's Letter (// There are other character spoilers. Only stuff that Nath knows and thinks)
  • Tomian

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  I feel the rain washing away my pain or maybe it’s because Verika told me I was not blamed for the incident, though I had a different impression last time. I should had known better than to stick around when she fumes. I wish she didn’t do that at all. Maybe the rain is also symbol, washing away the stench of failure. Perhaps I can start anew and move on from all that happened. I need to be more courageous like Sam. -Nathelin disciple of The Yellow Rose
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  Observational Art as Performed by Mashal Marshallomin
  • LustJaw

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  Mary Mary dreamed of a fonder time, of a silvered valley long ago. Family and friends, pipeweed and tea, all lost to time's flow. The songs played merrily as she stood high upon the hill, Nestled next to her father close, his presence she feels still. She loved him dearly, a hero to the valley, most certainly to her, But he was sick and their time together grew increasingly shorter. She sought far and wide for a cure to his ravaging illness, But he was calm, graceful in acceptance of the growing stillness. Mary dreamed of a fonder time, of a silvered valley long ago. For reality is cruel, filled with blood and constant tales of woe. The valley is now gone, houses left empty, there are only memories left. So she remained dreaming, never having to remember of her heart's bereft.
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  Lauriella Sithmore
  • Winterhawk99

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  For several weeks Lauriella disappears then She is seen at the docks no longer pregnant and rumor has it bags and baby in her arm at the docks boarding a small merchant ship named the Scandal. A month later there is a post at the docks. A storm on the inner sea brought several merchant ships together lead by the scandal. The ship was lit like a torch with magical lights turned herself to the wind leading the others almost through it. She went down near the end. overwhelmed by high waves. The navigator and captain were last seen lashed to the deck maintaining the wheel while crew abandoned the ship on the tender. to be saved by the other, larger merchant ships. lost at sea Captain Johnathon 'Whiskers' Tagart Navigator Lauriella Sithmore.
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  The Fallen Vanderburg - A Redemption Tale
  • SuspectDuke

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  The accounts of Jade M'he El'hruen: Adventure and romance...
  • ZweianderLord

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  - A kindness The young man squatted beside a crumbling tree trunk and gently placed his pack and bow in the scruffy weeds that encircled its gnarled, snow-covered roots. He suspected the tree had been split by lightning long ago, judging from the lack of bark and blackened, ragged gash that ran its height. It would have to do, he thought, looking about and spotting no other trees in the vicinity. The direction of the icy morning breeze was in his favor, though he cursed the grey sky under his frosty breath as snow began to fall. He shook the tingling from his gloved hands and retrieved a rusted spyglass from his worn pack and leaned against the tree, resting the end of the sight on the nub of a low, leafless branch and peered through the cracked lens. After a few moments of fidgeting with the focus with his numb fingers, he managed to spot his quarry: A young buck that was rooting through some snowy foliage several meters away. Upon the deer's antlers he counted at least eight points and noticed his coat seemed thick and healthy. Quietly and with a smile, he placed the spyglass back into his pack and raised his bow, knocking an arrow he quickly pulled from a quiver slung across his waist. He drew the bowstring and used the tree to steady his shivering elbow before calming his breathing. The buck had his head lowered and the man held his aim, waiting for the moment to strike. There was a sudden, soft "thwang" and the buck cried out while falling to a heap where it stood. For a moment the young man thought he had accidently loosed the arrow, but he quickly regained senses and ducked behind the tree as he released the tension on his bow and tossed it aside. He cursed softly, snatched up the spyglass again and peeked through the sight. Amidst crimson snow and trampled browned grasses, he spotted the narrow shaft and fletching of an arrow, following its length downward to the broadside of the prone deer. It was a deft kill shot, but he could not determine from which direction it had been loosed. He began to slowly scan the hill for signs of the mystery shooter. "Aye there." The young man froze for a moment before lowering the spyglass, fear evident in the shaking of his hand. Crouched next to him was a green cloaked, lithe woman with a raven, braided lock that poured from a deep, fur-lined cowl. The black tip of her hair brushed atop the soft snow at her booted feet. He hadn't heard a sound. "Did I take your kill?" Her voice was low and soft, but he detected no threat in her tone. He cleared his throat. "Uhm, no. Not at all. N-nice shot." She pulled back the cowl to reveal emerald, almond-shaped eyes and sharp elven features. A crooked smile played across her pretty face. "Aye. Where're you from?" He seemed surprised by the presence of an elf, but relaxed a bit more as she took a knee and stared directly into his eyes, awaiting response. He sat back on his boots and tucked the spyglass away as he averted her gaze. "West, through the mountains. My village is there." She looked him over a bit, noticing his rough leathers and padded light traveling armor. "Nars, eh?" He looked around and nodded. She flicked a stray strand of hair from her eyes. "What's your name?" "Eman." "I'm Jade. Been out a few days?" He nodded again. "You need this more than I. Come." She slapped his shoulder and strode to where the deer lay, retrieved a long thin blade from somewhere within the folds of her cloak and began to work the carcass. Eman blinked and stood slowly, retrieving his pack while watching her closely. He spotted a simple bow was strung across her shoulder alongside her quiver. A greatsword strapped to her back gave him pause, but he cautiously approached as she beckoned to him once again. Jade was making quick work of the buck with careful, skilled strokes as she field-butchered the animal. She grunted as she rolled the carcass and started work on the other side, taking care not to damage the hide. "I'll take this hind quarter; you take the rest." "Why?" Jade halted her work and looked up from the corner of her eye. The smirk returned. "It's been a rough winter. You've more mouths to feed." She returned to her butchering. Shaking his head in disbelief, Eman retrieved his hunting knife and helped her finish the job. They worked in silence, save for a request for help here and there. He watched her when he thought she wasn't looking, but she caught his gaze a few times for which she offered a smile. He wrapped the warm venison in a roll of hide and gathered other usable parts of the animal he could carry into his now-overstuffed pack. It was a good haul, which he silently admitted had been difficult to come by this winter. He watched intently as Jade gracefully washed the blood from her hands with a bit of water from her waterskin and dried them in the folds of her cloak. She caught his gaze again and she offered her waterskin. "Drink?" He patted his belt. "I've enough, thanks." "Nice to meet you, Eman. Good luck." She turned and headed down the trail with the single hind quarter of venison slung over her shoulder. "Jade--" He called out suddenly. She paused and turned. He spoke nothing, but nodded to her after a moment. She smirked and waved with her free hand and continued down the trail.
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  The Jasmine Files
  • Robyn

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  Home The Li estate sprawled with acres of field and woodland at the edge of Telflamm. Jasmine and her father Bakkar meandered lazily beside a small stream, occasionally stopping to gaze at the shoreline or throw a stone into the water. Bakkar was tall and heavy set, his dark skin reflected his Turami heritage. His advanced years had begun to tell their tale. His hair was salted with gray, and his posture somewhat stooped. Sedentary life had made him a bit thicker around the middle. Jasmine hadn’t been this relaxed in months. There was something about home which allowed her to let her guard down. Thoughts of knighthood, duty and adventure in the city of Peltarch seemed so far away. Bakkar smiled softly. “It was nice to spend these few weeks with you Jasmine. The letters are nice, but conversation is much better. You could always move back here”, he said, his voice tinged with a bit of sadness. “Mother prefers that I stay away. I know she cares, but she has you all to herself now. She and I …. “, Jasmine trailed off. It was true. Jasmine and her mother Wen were always oil and water. Wen never had the patience to deal with Jasmine when she was younger, and while Bakkar knew Wen loved her, “like” was never part of the relationship. The household was much more peaceful when they were separated. It always baffled him why even the most innocent of conversations always resulted in argument. With silence, he let the subject drop. They continued walking along the river’s edge until they came to a small footbridge. The road led back to the estate, and Bakkar knew that once they returned, it would mark the end of his daughter’s visit. “Jasmine, do you have anyone special back in Peltarch?”, Bakkar asked with some hesitation. Jasmine stopped on the footbridge and leaned on the railing. She turned and looked up at him, squinting in the sun that shone over his shoulder. “It’s complicated”, she said. Bakkar leaned on the railing with her, and searched her face for more answers. “In the letters you mentioned the older man, the inn owner” “Jonni”, she added. Bakkar looked puzzled, “I thought that … ended”. Jasmine sighed, “I did. Then it did not. I have heard the term ‘Friends with Benefits’. I think that applies” Bakkar furrowed his brow and searched his daughter’s face again. Even though her face was a mask, she had gradually let her guard down while staying at home. He could see she was troubled. He put his hand on her shoulder. “There’s no future in it”, she added tersely, and turned to walk off. But Bakkar kept his hand on her shoulder just briefly enough to stop her. She turned around and looked up at him. In her eyes, Bakkar could see the ever present turmoil behind them. The tears were there, but held back by courage and discipline. He took her in his arms and held her there for as long as she needed. That’s what good fathers did.
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  Looking at the world sideways: Vick Blake
  • Darkspyr

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  The true history of the battle of the Dwarven Hold, a lesson in greed: Vick tilted back in his chair and thought of the recent activity with the dwarves. Was greed truly an evil quality, or just a trait of people in general? Was a certain amount of greed fine and too much, not? If so then how much? Greed seemed to rewrite history, to change perspectives to alter reality itself to justify an outcome or a want. He started thinking of the final days of the Fall of the Dwarven Hold. He then matched it up with the story being currently told by the dwarves and shook his head. He pulled the quill and ink toward him and a fresh piece of parchment. The signs were all in place, heavy duergar movements of troops and goods in the underdark. Confrontations on and near the surface as more and more duergar patrols were spotted. It was really no surprise at all when the attack on the Hold came. What was a surprise, was the response and lack of coordination or battle tactics by the dwarves. I moved quickly toward the Hold when my scouts reported the increased activity and was there when the first probing contacts were made. The Legion was there as well as a number of adventurers to help as needed. The duergar had planned well, especially for the dwarven response. They came from the underdark into near tunnels and engaged the defenders near the Hold then fell back, drawing the defenders further and further away from the Hold. I kept going back up into the Hold and then back down to request more troops as the dwarves rushed below ground to support their leaders. Three times I made requests and three times I was ignored, as the dwarves were drawn further underground into areas prepared by their foes. As I left and rushed back to the Hold it was to be greeted by word that assassins had breached the Hold and killed the Dwarven High Priest. At that time the ground shook and the ceiling of the Hold started collapsing in places. What few dwarves had stayed behind rallied as the duergar and their allies dropped from holes they dug in the roof of the Hold. Other than a few guards it was just humans and elves left to defend what we could. The outside guards had been slaughtered and duergar dropped on ropes, taking the high ground and firing on the defenders below. And then came the Beholders, hovering down through the breaches to the surface and firing attacking everything below. It was at this point I fell, my eyes seeing fire blasting and blazing around the duergar and their allies. When I was finally recovered and brought back, there was nothing but ruin and ashes left of the Hold. Master Z and I spent days, along with others recovering dead and injured from the rubble. Master Z cleared huge amounts of rubble from buildings, often finding nothing but the dead for his troubles. Of the defenders I do not know how many fell in that defense. A duergar spy was caught and I used my skills to question him for the dwarves. I peeled him like and onion for them, for any answers he might provide. All I know is that now the story has changed. Somehow we are now the enemy. Was it greed or shame that rewrote history for the dwarves? I do not gainsay the King’s decision for keeping the peace, someone had to honest and reasonable in that farce of a meeting. I am sure the dwarves needed to place blame on someone they could coerce and not actually on those that destroyed their home. I but wait for their lies to catch up to them, and they will at some point. Greed will rise again, when next they falter in a task and flail at all but those truly to blame.
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  Burning Scrolls - The Writings of Diadne
  • Robyn

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  Diadne approached the tavern in Blackridge. She had foolishly sold her amulet that protected her from the cold and had to rely on elemental protection spells. Ibli rode in her hood, and she could feel him shiver through the several layers of cloth. “Please mistress, tell me we are not going to settle here! This is intolerable! I shall die stiff and cold, Kossuth forsaking me to the clutches of this awful land!” Diadne sighed, “Stop whining Ibli. It’s not that bad. The fires of our lord are most needed in places like this, it’s…” “It is that bad mistress!”, Ibli interrupted. “I … I can see my breath!” Diadne made it to the door. Soft music was playing inside. She brushed the snow from her shoulders, wiped her feet and stepped in. The warm scent of mulled cider wrapped around her as she entered. People milled about. Many of High Hold’s soldiers sat still in uniform laughed and carried on at various tables. Diadne pulled back her hood and Ibli scrambled deeper into the recesses of her cloak. “Well, well, well! If it isn’t Diadne the Deluded!”. The unmistakable shrill voice came from the knot of Red Wizards conversing near the center. Diadne’s shoulders slumped as she turned to face the small pinch faced woman who returned her gaze with a haughty smile. Her red robes were festooned with jewelry. Her hair was short and brown, barely covering her cheeks. Her name was Azhia. Azhia and Diadne seemed destined to run into each other in Thay. Their meetings never came to violence, but Azhia carried the Red Wizards prejudices against the naturally gifted like a badge of honor. Azhia had railed against her presence at numerous occasions, and Diadne was growing tired of it. Diadne turned and forced a smile. “I see you finally crawled out of your basement Azhia. Did you tire of playing with rats and dead bodies?” “Spoken like a jealous arcanist who still has to take caravans or rely on others to do real magic. How long did it take you to get here from Thay? Three weeks? A month? Perhaps you paid good coin to have someone teleport you?” At this point, a couple of High Hold soldiers started taking interest in the conversation, looking up from their meal. Diadne smiled at one past Azhia, and was rewarded with an admiring glance in return. It was then Diadne realized what she had to say. Diadne had spent several years in the Courtesans Guild in Surthay. Contrary to public opinion, a courtesan, a well trained one was a companion. It wasn’t just about the sex. The courtesan’s job was to make the client feel important. The center of attention. Diadne had learned to read people, sometimes altogether too well. She looked Azhia over, noticed the jewelry, the makeup, and the perfume. Azhia wasn’t only an accomplished wizard, she was vain. Her vanity was as apparent to Diadne as her red robes. Diadne walked up to her with a belittling smile, and made a point to violate her personal space. She leaned down just a hair, enough to let Azhia know she was taller and had greater presence. “It’s true Azhia, that sadly, I will never learn to teleport. But no matter how many spells you learn, and how accomplished you get, you will always be ugly. And if you succeed in whatever, strange ritual you are conducting in that dark basement of yours to ward of the impending march of time, you’ll be uglier still.” Diadne then patted her condescendingly on the cheek and turned to walk away. The High Hold soldier who had admired Diadne spit his ale in laughter at the cattiness and base nature of Diadne’s words. His friend shook his head and chuckled. There were murmurs of laughter at the nearby tables. Azhia’s complexion darkened. Diadne could practically feel the heat rise in Azhia’s face from behind her. Azhia turned to face the soldiers that were laughing. Some of stopped in fear, but several continued. Azhia turned to Diadne who was walking away and sputtered angrily, “Go ahead! Walk away! Just know bitch that you will never, never know true power!” Diadne stopped and cocked her head and thought for a moment before turning back to face her. Azhia’s mouth was pursed. Her face pinched even more so in anger. Diadne walked back to her, using her height to intimidate, and looked down. “No dear Azhia, it is you who will never know true power. Last year, three monks from the Sword Coast traveled all the way to Eltabbar by ship and caravan just for a lock of my hair. A dwarf by the name of Ash traveled all the way from Thay to Peltarch just to be in my presence. A priest paid a king’s ransom to the temple of Kossuth just to have an afternoon conversation with me. And…”, Diadne said leaning down and looking her in the eye, “…a man immolated himself, just because I asked him to.” Diadne stood up again, making sure to look down at her. “That dear Azhia, is true power. Please … Continue to play in your basement with dead bodies and scrolls. Let the grown ups upstairs run the world” Diadne could feel the weave twist under Azhia’s will. For a moment, Diadne thought things were going to get messy. But a large hand from one of the other Red Wizards rested gently on Azhia’s shoulder. Azhia looked up and the man just shook his head. The bearded face turned, and Diadne looked up into friendly eyes. Not all Red Wizards were against her. Some respected Kossuth’s might.
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  The Mor'Salen
  • Karnivor

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  ((Someone asked around in game about information about the Nexus war, the other day - so I thought I'd bump this thread for those interested. It contains the collected posts from the Defender and the Order of the Divine Shield's forums about the plot, though nothing that describes the many dramatic fights taking place in Peltarch itself during the siege. Apologies in advance for the length of the entries, it was somewhat easier to read on the old forums! I view this mostly as an ooc gathering of otherwise scattered posts, but one might also imagine it as an unpublished folder of copies in my character Nica's possession.))
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  The Ethically Questionable Talents of a Purple Hooded Bard
  • UnholyCalls

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  Gather round for the tale of Jonni the Brave Fought by himself, put undead in the grave. Sought out mithral and platinum ore. Now his legend begins to soar. Jonni the Mithral Miner He's handsome and strong and sweet Jonni the Mithral Miner Beat them all, by himself, ain't that neat
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  A Letter Home
  • Delinquency

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  Adalum The Wanderer
  • Tomian

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  Written in crude Ulutiun. I watched over them for the night as they slept after Pimataung told his tale. They always keep one eye open. They must think i will rob them, or worse slit their throat as they sleep. Though as tempting as it might be to do such a thing i need them. They never witnessed the cruel harshness of the frost and the power of the Frost-maiden. Our neighboring Iulutiun village Isalrk buried under huge avalanche of ice crystals. It called itself a chosen. (Then rumors true, had the last Ice-Queen perished?) It looked human like us but haunting beautiful, unforgiving eyes and wrapped in snow white fur. She commanded authority, although she did not need. Not with a group of frost giants and a White Dragon steed big as hill. Pimataung tried to save village but his pleas fell on deaf ears. She wanted one of few Anagakok left in Pelvuria and there is no doubt in my mind that she will find Anagakok. He was one with ice as she kissed with frost-death and wailed a song of charm to all guardians while the rest escaped. I did not stay to watch them get pounded to mush by the giant's tree clubs. I'm thankful that i always brang Jakarek with me to slide down hill where perched like snow owl. I need to find it when i get back. I pray that we do not meet any of Frost-maiden servants for i would not know what I would do. I just hope Angulutiun family clan survives while I'm stuck here. // There are three Ulutian tribes in the Great Glacier from most common to least- Lulutiun, Angulutiun and Nakulutiun Anagakok- A frost-mage revered in all tribes but there are only very few in the Great Glacier. Lulutiuns have most Anagakok. Jakarek- Basically a one person sled reigned by a caribou. The main enemy I chose for the story was A Frostwind Virago found in Monster Manual V 3.5e. Also made up village name. From time to time before Wyvern's quest i might write up more stories based on her village life for fun and do that with the other characters too.
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  Kaern of the Shebali (Arkaiuns)
  • Tomian

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  Lizards-men taste like expected fishy lizards. Their swamp reminds me of the Rethild, boiling and sticky glue. Don't get me started on the insects and leeches. Damn Lizard King of Rethild, we had a deal, but you perferred the Crinti's gold! We will never forgive betrayal. We were lucky to escape the ambush. Lost a lot of warriors that day and also a good friend. Even at this moment we still at war with them. That is why peace never works. Trust is so hard to accept, when you have history of betrayal behind you.
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  Scarred Flesh and Life
  • RedMenace

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  Nothing has changed yet everything is different. I do the same things, go through the same motions, but now do so with an added layer of listlessness. I awaken and find no reason to get out of bed. I stand by my door and see no reason to leave my tower. With Durion avenged there is little reason for me to do anything. Every time I look at her all I can see is my failure. She tells me was is not my fault, she is too kind. It was my crusade that led her there, my hubris that caused that battle and my weakness that let it happen. It was my fault. Previously I wrote that my greatest fear is fire. I have had the epiphany that that is not true, it is people that frighten me the most. When living in the wild there are many things that can harm you. Bears, wolves, monsters even some plants. These things are dealt with simply, you either avoid them, ward them away or kill them. When interacting within a society however the only thing that can harm you is people. People can harm you through their negligence, people can harm you through their incompetence, people can harm you through malevolence. Mugged on the street, tripped while walking, poisoned by a mixing accident, crushed by a construction mishandling, all the actions of people. People can also harm you in ways the wild cannot, through words they do not realize cut deeper than they do, or words said specifically to put down. Then there is the unavoidable fact that I myself am a person and that I sometimes wish myself harm. I do not like scaring myself.
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  Ethuil - path of a pure archer
  • Maverick_tO

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  One wild wolf is one too many. But this one is a relatively short story. Most of the elven outpost was out on an orc hunt, but sufficient enough defenses in case of a full attack. There was a disturbance out in the woods near a small plot of berry bushes. I was sent out as a scout to identify the issue. Turned out to be a wild wolf having a go at one of our encampment's bunnies. The bunny staying out of reach with its fast speed was just getting angrier and angrier. Well.. I grabbed the attention of the the wolf with a well placed arrow just in front of it, an arrow with a spark of lightning. Not enough to hurt it if I accidentally hit it, but certainly enough to get its attention. Quickly followed up with making a lot of noise and running off into the woods. Darting this way and that to keep ahead of the wolf, I started whistling and looking for something the wolf might want to eat, further into the forest than our domesticated bunnies. Spotting a deer that had perked up and was looking to see if we were coming it's way. Drawing my bow on the run and placing a whistle-spot on the head of the deer I loosed a single arrow, dropping it. Keeping on the move from the wolf, I change direction and ran as fast as I could to the dead deer. Grabbing a thick branch and swinging myself up into the tree I was able to catch my breath and watch the wolf prowl around the tree before getting bored of me and feast on the fresh venison. I made a friend that day... Calming it with my whistling music enough to come down when it was full.
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  Dalton's Way
  • Tpickles

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  A tin mug sailed just to the right of his head. "Ah, get away from those books. Never going to teach yer arse anythin." Calm and doe-eyed, the missed target raised from his desk and turned, "Yes father" which was more inserted as the assailant took a breath to continue with his verbal portion of the assault, "Need to get up out of this house, go off and do something! I'd been makin' axes by your age" A finger pointed steadily at the target while it's wielder swayed drunkenly, "and...usin' 'em too mind you! You've ever raised yer fists boy?" Scratching his head, "Well no father, I don't rea..." but was cut off by his father "Don't really do anything do ye Dalton!" The boy's face shifted towards a grimace. Glaring now at his father. He may not have done things out of the house but he had in books. He'd learned from those things without wasting all the time getting to and from that the writers had. He'd...a smack interrupted his thoughts "Always in there aren't ye? Come on out here with the rest of us. What's your move?" Dalton's brow lowered, "I'll join the order" which prompted "Ah those ones? Throwing fists and sticks ain't do nothing with an axe coming down on you. Bah, least it'd get your sorry arse out of my sight". His father then walking over to his spent ammo, picked the mug up, dusted it off and walked back towards a keg he kept in the corner of the room to make himself another drink.
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  Morgan's Journal
  • UnholyCalls

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  I saw Smoke. I guess I was expecting something more. For all his reputation, for all the chaos he caused, I suppose in my head the figure appeared larger than life. But the reality is he was just a man… well a man that was made of smoke and had a weird god complex but a man none the less. And while he put up a hell of a fight I couldn’t help but feel empty as he died, I’d never been wronged by Smoke. I’d been wronged by the people he’d wronged, maybe, but I’d never even met the man. And as they surrounded his limp, defeated body and butchered it, I wondered how it had reached that point. How did Smoke do it? Why? Well Isolde certainly rambled on about this and that, mistakes, obsessions. The man himself said it was for research, but I still don’t quite understand it. It still doesn’t make sense to me. By all accounts everything he did was… nonsensical. Why start a coup? Why turn some random person into an enchanted killer? Why anything that happened with the Silver Host? Well I guess it doesn’t matter. He’s dead, and soon enough, he’ll be forgotten. People forget, it seems, no matter how many times their lives are threatened. I can’t blame them for that, sometimes I wish I could forget. Now I don’t know where I stand, though I never particularly do. I don’t like the Autonomists, first I thought they were stupid, then I thought they had a point, then I realized they don’t. But I don’t particularly like the royalty either, the only thing I hear about the King is that he’s nice, which to me is a bland, rather uninspiring trait for a leader… is he at least good at ruling? Nobody ever tells me these things. Herald Fisher, well they say he’s good, but all I see is a man blinded by his own bloodline. I suppose I am overly cynical, or a prick, it depends on how you look at it and how eloquent you speak. At the end of the day I don’t have a place to stand. And I guess I no longer care. Smoke is dead, some mad diviner is out there and he’ll die too. There’s an old demonbinder skulking about and I don’t understand what he wants. There’s dragons, always fun, and a cult of dragon worshipers which is a nice thing to have as well. We’ve got some sort of… war? A war with a place I’ve never heard of before, it seems to be brewing, and a town got slaughtered. Surprisingly none of this bothers me as much as my sarcasm indicates it does, it’s all very normal. And I think that bothers me, that it doesn’t bother me. It feels like the threats never end. Well it’s not like I have much in me. If Helm doesn’t smite me for a sarcastic line gone too far, or some thug doesn’t shiv me in the back of a dock alley, I’ll be lucky if I can keep fighting for much longer. I’m tired, not exactly physically, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep going forward. It’s hard to find the drive to fight when you don’t care. It’s hard to stand for a cause when you start to lose interest in that cause the moment anyone in it speaks. It’s hard to defend a place you hate, and protect people who never wanted you to protect them. I wonder if I was a good guard. Probably not. I think I was an asshole, I think I still am, I will be until I die. I tried my best though, even when they made a mockery of the uniform I loved, even when they put some Defender above me. Even when the man who gave me hope turned out to be a lunatic whose “coy quirks” turned out to be insanity. I still tried, and that counts for something. Or maybe I’m just saying that because I have to hold on to the hope it counts for something. It’s true I probably tried for the wrong reasons, and I tried hard for the wrong thing, but I suppose one could argue it’s better than never trying… well… I don’t know. Maybe it’s not. I find it hard to remember all the people I’ve met in Narfell. There sure are a lot of them. They’re all pretty annoying, honestly, and some of them are downright nonsensical, but I suppose most of them are good people. Garen, he is an interesting fellow, I’ve never seen the place he hails from but if they’re all like him… well shit they probably don’t emote much. But he was willing to die in the place of another, and I respect that, it’s not an easy thing to do. Jonni… I don’t really understand why the Ceruleans hired a man who can’t use the Art but hells, I’ve seen stupider decisions, at least he seems to want to do the right thing. Sometimes I think that’s all you really need, a man who wants to do the right thing. On the surface Nate is a man I want to punch in the face, but he’s got depth to him I think. I think Nate plays a far bigger fool than he actually is and I think he’s far more observant and cunning than I gave him credit for. Or maybe I’m giving him too much credit. Either way I still want to punch him in the face. Who else? Erurk. Erurk is a psychopath, and he’s going to start eating children, mark my words… Erurk’ll be the death of us all. Speaking of psychopaths, Vick Blake is an oddity, I can say with confidence “Vick Blake is a good person” so long as I follow it up with “and also a really bad person.” But Vick, I think he defends the city in his own way. I mean I still wouldn’t let the guy house sit for me but… well. If Isolde gives one more overly dramatic speech I’m going to side with whoever we’ve come to kill, I’ve never seen someone so intent on making everything into a big deal. That’s bards for you I guess. But she’s a good person. Rey’s an idiot. That’s basically it. But again, at least she’s trying to do the right thing… I think. I don’t actually know now that I think about it. And I’m sure there are others I’m forgetting. Other heroes of Narfell and petty adventurers alike I’m forgetting, but whatever. I think they come and go, really. Well all in all I suppose I came to Peltarch because I wanted to do good. Have I done good? I guess it depends on who you ask, I certainly don’t feel like I’ve done anything, I’ve just been around when others have. And in a way I think that’s all Helm wanted me to do, right? To make sure what they wanted to do… is done. And to stop them being killed by some crazy cultist or demonic cube of slime. If I look it at like that I suppose I’m proud, I hope Helm is, because if he isn’t I’ve put a lot of effort into a particularly dead end, eh? Soon I’ll leave, I’m sure. There isn’t much of a place for me in Peltarch anymore, not because others haven’t tried to make a place for me, but because ultimately the place itself is something I cannot accept. And as things change, not often for the better in my eyes, I find myself straying further from the place I swore to protect. But I don’t think it’ll collapse just yet, soon maybe, but not just yet. Without me it’ll continue to exist, and it’ll continue to change. I don’t know how it’ll keep changing, and I fear the end result, but it’ll change no matter what. I hope something good comes from it. Soon I’ll leave… but for now, I suppose I’ll just take it one day at a time.
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  The Days of Autumn
  • Robyn

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  Aftermath Smoke is dead I could leave it at that I suppose, but such an important event in the city’s history should be remembered. The task force that went to the demi-plane worked well together. There were two groups. One main forced tasked with ferreting Smoke out and hunting him down, and the other to support them with magic to ensure he didn’t escape. Far Scouts, Defenders, Autonomists, and even former Silver Host were there. We all did our part and had our moments. Mine was making a clutch shot which knocked a deadly wand out of Smoke’s hand. The surprised and furious look on Smoke’s face will be forever in my memory. However, for me it’s not what happened during the mission. It’s what happened after that’s so important. For all the calamity, death, despair and sorrow that Smoke left in his wake, I can’t help but see all the good that’s happening around me. Don’t get me wrong. The lives that Smoke destroyed left a scar forever in Peltarch’s memory, but the healing is bringing the city together. Something that may not have been possible without the inflicted wounds in the first place. As a exited the Mermaid bringing two bottles of wine and enough meats, cheeses, and pastries to feed half a dozen people, I looked around me at the celebration. I saw Erurk talking to Tiller. His contribution and deeds finally making him King’s Guard. Berlinne and a former Silver Host knight named Laswell were regaling stories to a group of city guards. A group of armed Autonomists were celebrating with adventurers and defenders. All around me were the signs of unification, and I can’t help but think that without the tragedy of it all, that this kind of camaraderie would never have taken place. How ironic. I missed meeting the king and spent the remainder of the afternoon with Gom. The food was eaten. Two bottles of wine were drained. In as much detail as I could remember, I used spoons, forks, a half-eaten cheese pastry and two corks to provide an after-action detailed report. I knew that would be Gom’s thing and would help in his healing process too. Although his career will be forever tainted, I hope that someday that will heal too. As I was staggering home, I overheard General Del’Rosa announcing his retirement and that Williams will be taking his place. Rey will be promoted to Captain. I was in such a state that I didn’t want the General to see me, but as I passed by I wondered if I would be promoted in their wake. I’m not sure how much it matters to me in the grand scheme of things. I don’t measure my success in rank, but in the joy of those around me.
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  Fabian, the Reinhard's Legacy
  • Preacher

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  Chapter 10 "It is easy to love your friend, but sometimes the hardest lesson to learn is to love your enemy." ― Sun Tzu, The Art of War ― A calm night. Gabriel walks around Peltrach’s alleys under a beautiful full moon. Ahead there is a shadowy figure standing still, as if waiting for him to approach. The young man stops. No particular reason. But a strange feeling, a warm and dark at the same time. A familiar one. The figure takes some steps ahead towards Gabriel. When passing under a torch lit spot the face of his big brother appears. Adrenaline rushes fully. He did not expect to meet with him like this. He would have planned it, bring the fight on his terms. A short moment of hesitation, then he bursts. Even like this, it is still a great opportunity to complete his task. Gabriel: Why you! Fabian...! You murderer! Fabian does not move. He feels his pain and that hurts him even more. Gabriel: How could you!? YOU MONSTER! Mom and dad loved you! I loved you! I didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye to them damn you! His vision is blurred, the blonde warrior unsheathes his bastard sword and is about to charge. At that very moment, right before he takes a single step he freezes. He cannot move, something is wrong. He turns his gaze around trying to figure out what’s happening. He realizes he is paralyzed by magic. Fabian approaches him and stands a few steps away. First time since 20 years ago. Only this time instead of playing catch at the garden with Fabian, he has to fight a monster. Fabian: Why don’t you tell them yourself Gabriel? Gabriel gasps at the hearing, trying to understand but then he bursts again. Gabriel: What the hell are you talking about you-you, YOU SHIT!? They’re gone! I saw it with my own eyes. You carving the blade through mother’s chest... Fabian: I don’t expect you to trust me. But the truth is mom and dad are alive and I am going back home to save them. They were always alive. We... no, you were fooled... All this time they have been imprisoned by some people who seek greater power in Impiltur. Our family just happened to be in position of power, a leverage for them if you wish. Gabriel: Why should I believe you? Give me a reason... Fabian: Take a closer look around you Gabriel. If I wanted you dead don’t you think I would have done it by now..? Fabian blinked saddened at this thought. Gabriel noticing this weird reaction from Fabian, looks around to notice his group of mages having surrounded him. But it is not enough reason. No, after what Fabian had done. Gabriel: NO! I know scums like you brother... It’s not possible. You sure have some kind of those genius "master-plans" of yours, huh? What is it this time? Make me go back and fight my Order and then kill me? Huh...? Tell me! Fabian realizes Gabriel won’t reason with the chance of a change of character, of faith alone. At that moment he gets more serious, hoping to shake Gabriel’s mind. Fabian: I will ask you a single question brother. Then it is up to your judging how the future of our parents and our people will change. If there is this little, tiny chance I for once telling the truth and our parents are alive, would you make a leap of faith and help me save them or you would give in to your hate and let them die? Gabriel was surprised by Fabian’s question. A fight inside him takes place. Instinct against justice. /It cannot be right… Something is off… Why do I feel like he is telling the truth? He can’t. He killed them. But still, something is off… What if they are still alive…? / Fabian notices Gabriel’s behavior and signals the mage who has paralyzed him, to end the spell. Gabriel moves instinctively with a blurred vision and draws a vertical scar along Fabian’s left eye. Fabian’s luck states present once again. Even though the slashing was not successful, it was enough to mark his face forever. But it matters not. Not now with how their lives have come to be… Fabian eyes Gabriel and nods. Fabian: Now it is up to you. Here and now you hold our future in your hands. You choose. I die and you earn peace of mind or you take that leap of faith one last time... Gabriel shakes his head disappointed by how their meeting goes and points the tip of his blade at the dark haired monster, still. Gabriel: Very well. I will take this leap of faith /brother/... But rest assured. Either saving our parents or not you will die by my hand in the end... I am not buying this change of yours you claim. I know very well how good of an actor you are... Fabian: A fair deal Gabriel. Thank you for bearing with my presence still. I will make sure to not let this chance go in waste... With that said we have to plan our next moves. And train as well. Both of us must get stronger. We will only have a single shot against them. They are not the type that you can take by surprise that easily. Not to mention they will be waiting for us... Gabriel: Train along with you? Heh, that would sound like a joke for a long time now... Hmm... Actually it is not a bad idea brother... I /apologize/ in advance for any wounds or rough behavior I may demonstrate during our training… Hurting you in training is not my intention... Lead the way Fabian. They exchanged an amused glance as Gabriel said and left to rest. The following day would be a new start, even temporary...