3. (Pavel) journal of a dead man

(Pavel) journal of a dead man

  • V

    30. Good excercise.

    Jiyyd's in deep trouble. Orcs, giants, drow. All teaming up to bring the town to ruins. I was asked to join the fight. I declined. I might still go there, for the excercise, but I won't stay around for the fall. The inevitable fall.

    Good excercise? Actually, that sums up the last few days pretty nicely. Frantic days.

    I arrived late for the spring festival of theirs but just in time for the log carrying contest. While carrying a load that's far, far too heavy isn't that unusually and uphill at that, they also spilt grease all over the steep. That kind of made it interesting. There wasn't anyone there that could have possibly matched my training. I still managed to lose the contest. I didn't slip until the very last round, and then Zoma's wife, a bundle of muscles and muscles just went past me. The weight she can carry without ever slowing down is truly amazing. It's really no surprise she managed to keep up. I gave her a chance, and of course she seized it. And won.

    As with everything, there's no prize for the runner up. In the end, it is not winning that matters. It's getting away with as many mistakes as you can. I did. And judging by her joy on receiving the prize, she can make more use of it than me. She was also something of a main attraction for the men there. Just about everyone seemed to think her blonde hair and well trained body a reason to want her.

    So, she also looked rather strong. And they did end up brawling with her, her winning. Of course, I just had to try my hands on her. Speed against raw strength. Carefully aimed punches to sensitive spots against the weight of a boulder slamming into you. In the past, those ferocious warriors that just can tap their rage and really hit you that you feel like a mountain slammed into you have managed to beat me. Even in a brawl contest. Maybe she held back, maybe she spent all her anger already. She put up a bit of a fight, but wasn't really a match for me. I think she held back. Tried to spare me. She said as much afterwards. That so far nobody had complained to be hit too weakly. She did, though. Didn't use all her strength.

    I'll have to ask her for a rematch. It wasn't all that good excercise.

    But I learnt something else. After that. That strange druid they call wolf challenged someone to fight him as a bear. That went even worse than I had thought. He just bore me down with the weight and then mangled me, not even giving me a chance to strike back. It wasn't good excercise, either, because I didn't have a chance. But at least I learnt my limits. I suppose it's good to know that no matter how much you learn, there's always something that's way better than you. And I suppose he liked to feel superior. Why not let him?

    Gurt seemed genuinely proud that we managed to win the riddle contest, and I guess I could take a little bit of pride, too. Guessing the riddles. We both seemed the only ones still sober enough or willing enough to try our minds on it.

    Pride.

    I have long ago learnt not to take pride in my combat abilities. Not like these folks from Chessenta. They're proud. They live for battle. They thrive on it. The only pride I take is that I've managed to stick to the rule surprisingly well. I haven't suffered a death for a very long time. That I am somewhat proud of. Not my skill at arms, which is far below what it could be.

    And Sabre.

    I'm. I don't know how to write about all this. I just

    It's silly why should I run out of words? If I look back at it, the parts I remember. It seems not difficult to describe. I came from the festival and we went out into the foothills to raid some kobolds. Of course we ended up in each others arms, kissing, tearing off clothes. It's surprising that somehow the clothes haven't been torn apart yet. After that it's just a blur, her soft skin, her sneaky fingers finding sensitive spots, her hot lips leaving burn marks on my skin, my hand caressing her, claiming her.

    Claiming her.

    I didn't. But that's the whole part of it, isn't it? I didn't claim her. Didn't sit down and say I want you to be all mine. Completely. It would be foolish to do something like that. I couldn't bring myself to own someone. I'm still a bit worried about it. And also, all things in life end. Nothing is permanent. It comes with a beginning and an end. But that's just it. We seperate at times, knowing it won't do as any good. Knowing it won't help. Knowing it will make it just so much more difficult to resist when we meet again.

    Maybe that's what got us this rest and relaxation time. That and the desire to do something that's not permitted. Drelan caught us, sadly before we had gotten anywhere. And was furious. At first he wanted to tell us something about the bloodspider mess, but then just gave us deck swabbing duty for the next few weeks. For a moment there I thought he was really angry, then he just started behaving ridiculous and he ruined it.

    Seemed for a moment he cared to share some information, then withheld it in order to punish us perhaps. It certainly makes me feel like I'm just muscle. Just there to protect Sabre. As did his reply to Sabre inquiring about me getting raised in rank. I don't care. I'm happy to be always close to Sabre. I'm happy. Very happy to do that.

    Come on. Write something.

    Words aren't enough. I wonder if we had a crowd, the crates provide little cover. All things have an end. She whispered in my ear then. A second chance. And she didn't wish to waste any time she could spend with me with someone else. I'm still It's like I'm Damn it. I love her love her love her. Scrubbing the deck's quite joyful when I do it with her. Though we strain our voices almost as much as our hands. I love her.

    She lies on the bunk, hugging the sheet more than covering herself with it. Maybe she's cold?

    Scrubbing the decks sure isn't the easiest of things, but it's good excercise. Strenghtening and with her I love her not even painful. I won't mind doing it all and then doing it all over again. I love her.

    Good excercise. Aside from anything else. And damn good excercise with her.

    I better warm her.

  • V

    Trapped.

    It reeked. Stank of trap. And unsurprisingly it was. I hadn't known the foreplay, so I was blind to the extent of the trap. And we stepped right into it. Foolishly.

    I merely wonder if Aarron had been tipped off, or not. Probably didn't need help figuring out there might be gold to make. Ashald. I begin to understand why they're known for having so much gold. He found us cornering the bait. Stuck with us, watched us. Saved us from a mistake? All the while I guess he hoped we'd make a mistake. None of us did make such a mistake, though.

    But we managed to swallow the bait regardless. Later. Luckily with no one able to pinpoint the abduction on us. I wonder where this Stan guy was? Did he watch? Did he chuckle at the thought we'd get his bait and kill it?

    Lorance didn't go to a safe place, if he was a Spider. But wandered about aimlessly. Another point in his favor. It was all in his favor, that is why I stayed my hand. Only hit him once, to show him the pain would come the moment I hear an unsatisfactory answer. He's not that weak, either. A common man might have very likely get knocked out from that slap. A mere traveller? Looking for work? Can he be believed, trusted?

    The bait was well done, dressed up and ready to be swallowed. We did swallow. And we almost chocked.

    Trapped.

    I did some serious questioning. I can but hope the quickness of my questions and his equally fast responses mean he isn't lying. If he is, he's damn good.

    Send him back to Waterdeep. Or anywhere else? Or discard of him for good? I'm sure if the spiders look for him, they'll guess we took care of him. Maybe it'd be smarter not to know what happens to Lorance. It's probably best to be ignorant of that.

    Especially if I find this Stan. He's going to lose more than a few teeth. I just need to figure out a way to trap him.

    I'll need help. Sabre, Taria, the rest of the crew.

  • V

    After a couple of blank pages, the script returns to the larger and cruder letters again.

    Backwards.

    It's all backwards. I shouldn't have left. But I still had to. Not that my presence made much of a difference in his downfall. It still is in a way rewarding to have been there, but in the big picture it was a folly. I got screwed, and from what I read, Sabre got screwed as well.

    Coming back. It's strange to think of going back some place. But it's so. I returned home. Well, I was returned home. Luckily Sabre managed to get me out of jail just in time. I wonder if they recognize whoever was put in there in my place before they take his head off. But that's not my problem.

    I'm back. Back to where I belong. Back to where I want to be. Right in Sabre's arms. And despite everything, despite the pain I put her through, she still welcomed me. It made my heart jump and I had a hard time to keep from crying. I still struggle with tears whenever she turns her happy smile to me.

    The Sails accepted me back as easily, no one asked any questions. I wonder how much of that I have to thank Sabre for. And yet, the whole place is still as messed up as ever.

    Justice.

    It's a word. It's an idea. It's a lie. A huge lie.

    I've not been back a tenday and already witnessed a trial that wasn't a trial. Not what I'd think a trial should be. It was an investigation into what the accusers did wrong. It was a showing of muscles by some thugs and the Order demonstrated that they had the bigger muscles.

    Sywyn claims he didn't hurt Micky. Micky the victim. I found the whole farce amusing. I wonder if Shannon had it figured out as well, that Sywyn's innocent. And yet he had to condemn him for something he hadn't done. He only called it negligent harm. But he was still found guilty despite his innocence.

    Justice.

    It's amazing that Sylvain can think of it as a success for the Order. That anyone can think of it as a success. Aside from those that resent both sides. I think it was like new slaves going at each others throats about who gets to peel potatoes and who gets to carry out the garbage.

    It could have been easily avoided, I think. But Sylvain was more interested in proving that the spiders were liars than he was in proving Sywyn's innocence. He got his reward, though. The spiders got arrested for assault. The fun part is that at least their wizard can claim she acted in defence. Simply because they managed to have found Sywyn guilty.

    Backwards.

    It's not justice. It's politics. And the problem is that the Order does it as well. Damnit. I don't have a problem with paladins fighting demons and devils and whatnot. But when they start trying to run a city, something's wrong. I wonder how long till having a what do they call it? Taint? is a reason to be found guilty and hanged.

    They're kidding themselves, too. About magic.

    They think their divine magic is the way out of everything. Zone of Truth, Discern lies. Jokes. I'm mediocre against spells, but even I can fool the usual cleric. And I bet a lot of people can stand under those spells and lie to their hearts content, making their precious Daisy think whatever they feel like about their truthfulness.

    I wonder if this new branch of justice is better or worse than before.

    I'll just have to keep a low profile. Stick to the laws by the letter and so on. The whole heap stinks though, now that you can get arrested for defending yourself or your friend.

    I should just put this out of my mind. Forget it for now. I don't know whether I want the Order to lose, or the Spiders. I think it couldn't hurt to have Shannon kicked from his post. Maybe that's what Aarron's trying? Get his Nyda the place of magistrate.

    Natanya even claimed that the justice of Tyr might see the greater good. The need to sacrifice one innocent man for a hundred others. She called it rightgeous that they had the lizards cut up that man, and return him as little pieces.

    I'm beginning to really wonder why she wishes to talk to me. And in private. Then again, maybe I shouldn't give away that Sabre is my one big weakness. Guess it's time I follow up on her invitation, if she's not armored to high heavens, I might even be able to beat her in a fight.

    Sabre stirs. A dream awaits…


  • I think I drink too much.

    I drink too much and I cry too much, and I think everyone notices.

    Everyone notices, and I'm too tired to care, too tired to bother hiding my pain anymore. I should try harder, shouldn't show this weakness to everyone, but I can't seem to bring myself to stop.

    I was never strong. You know that about me, you accept me with all my flaws, but others… Taria and Corana have talked to me, tried to advice me. They care, even Corana cares in her own way, but they don't coddle or pity me, thankfully. Instead they push me, trying no doubt to snap me out of my self-pity. I try too, I'm sick of feeling this way but I just can't...

    I feel so naked and vunerable without you by my side, without your strength to lean on, your body to shield me, your sharp mind alerting me to the dangers ahead. Pavel is the strong one, I told Taria as we ventured deep into the Kua Toa caves. She nodded at this, but added: Just because he's strong doesn't mean you're weak.

    Maybe she has a point, and maybe she just thinks too highly of me. I don't feel very strong. A Kua Toa swordsman cut my side open, I dodged too late, my gut instincts telling me you were there, ready to break the blow headed my way, and probably the arm weilding the sword aswell.

    I need to adjust, to get used to what's really the normal state of things. You've only ever yourself to rely on. I've lived by that for so many years, it's shocking to realize how easily and completely I've let myself come to rely on you. So many things you did for me, without my ever having to ask. Blows taken for me, dangers assessed while you scouted ahead. Your soft, calm voice advicing me. A gentle nudge to step back, when the battle became too much.

    Corana took me to the ettin caves, just her and me. I scouted ahead, my heart hammering so loudly in my chest that I was sure the shaman would hear me, would freeze me with fear and pound the life out of me again. He didn't. Corana unleashed the Queen's wrath on him, and now he won't do anything but decompose. The raid was cut short though, I just couldn't... I'm not as strong or as brave as you, I hid behind the door when they charged at Corana, she took the blows alone before I got up the nerve to fight again. We got out alive, but once again I missed you acutely.

    You should have a replacement bodyguard, Corana said. She's offered to let me use Gurt, even joked wryly about whether or not to ask him to perform all the same so called duties you did. I think Gurt would die of embaressement if I invited him into my bed... poor, sweet Gurtie. I couldn't do that to him, not ever, it'd be like seducing a child. Not that I feel very inclined to seduce anyone anymore. In fact, it seems I can't bring myself to do that either...

    I tried. You know how I hate being alone, so I tried to find some sort of comfort, some release from this ache inside me. Most of my old lovers are not the sort I'd care to show even the slightness weakness infront of, but Vagabond is different, safer in that he does what I tell him to, safer in that he won't judge me or try to find a way to use me. So I went to him for once, usually he finds me. I was a little drunk, and very blue, but I tried anyway.

    I put my arms around him, and he wasn't you.

    I kissed him, and he wasn't you.

    His hands caressed me, but they weren't your hands, the scent of him wasn't yours either. He got closer and I just couldn't bear it. He wasn't you, and I couldn't bear it.

    I want you back, no one else will do, no one else can fill the hole you left in my life. My bodyguard, my lover, friend and soulmate. You're all these things and more, you're irreplaceable and I need you back with me. Please come back to me, please come back. Please.


  • The following entries in the journal are written in a very different hand and style than the previous, the pages buckled and stained here and there, as if various liquids have been spilled onto them. The style is mostly small and neat, but in places the quill seems to be stabbed into the paper with great agitation. In other places the letters are large and uneven, trailing crookedly across the pages as if the author was not quite sober at the time of writing.

    I've read your journal now. Twice, no thee times already, soaking up every word as if it was your very soul bared infront of my eyes. Caressing each page as if it was your skin under my fingertips. You never said I couldn't read it when you left it in my care, just to keep it safe - you had to have known I'd never be able to resist.

    Funny, you wrote about this, wrote that I could read your journal once you're dead.. once I'd killed you. I wish I -had- killed you, instead of letting you go. Then you'd not have been able to leave me to this misery, to this unbearable state of longing, wishing, hoping against hope that you're alive and well, that you'll be back. I don't do well at the whole optimism thing, and all this waiting, the not knowing.. it eats at me, nibbles away at my sanity day by day. I think I'm not doing too well at covering it. Everyone notices, the crew especially. Don't be so melodramatic, it's not like he's dead, Drelan said. He regards you as capable, and you are, but that's not enough. Not always. I know he's probably right, but he doesn't -know-! You could be dead, you might have been for days and I'd have no way of knowing, I..

    I don't wish I'd killed you, not really. I want you to live, need to believe you'll return, but I was never one for faith or hope, no matter how I might long for such comforting thoughts now. I'm so alone, and there is no one I trust with my misery, no one I want to confide in but you. So I write this, I scribble my pain across the pages of your journal, stretching out my words like a ghostly hand reaching for yours. It's the closest I can get to you now.

    –-

    Fark!

    I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... you trust me with the very heart of you, the core of who you are, and what do I do? I leave my greasy fingerprints all over the pages, I smudge the ink with my stupid tears and I spill cheap wine all over it. I've messed it up, like I always do, like I warned you I would. How the hells could you be so dumb as to entrust me with this? And how could you believe me when I said you could leave, how could you go? You bastard, how could you leave me alone, when you swore you never would!?

    I hate you.

    You just had to give me a chance, a say in the matter, to stop you or join you. I'd never have forgiven you if you'd just left, I would have been furious and heartbroken. But at least I could have blamed you then, I could have been angry at you, hated you instead of being torn and teary-eyed, filled with conflicting emotions as I am now. You made it my decision, and I agonize over it still, I regret it bitterly one moment, and in the other I don't.

    I persuaded you to stay, I saw your resolve crumble and I just... I couldn't hold you to it, it felt too wrong. Like you yourself phrased it: I want you to be mine and I want you to be free all at once. Neither feels right. I wanted you to stay, desperately, but when you agreed, I saw it. I was asking you to be someone you're not, to break your promise, your pledge to your friend. For me. I just couldn't let you, I couldn't though it broke my heart. I still don't regret that part, I can't. I love you for who you are, and I won't have you change that for anyone. Not even for me.

    But I.. I should have gone with you, I should be with you now. I wanted to go, I could have helped, I'm sure of it. I could have been bait, could have watched your back, or just... I'd have distracted you too, it's true. I am your weak spot, I make you feel and for this task, you need to be strong, cold and without mercy. Perhaps you have to face this alone, or not at all. I'm not sure, I'm not sure of anything at all. I hate the past and all the ways in which it snares and trips us, just when we think we've left it behind for good.

    You wanted me to know, to understand, wanted my blessing. Well, you have it my love. No matter how I weep and curse your name I understand, I do. Some doors to the past need closing, one way or another, or they'll keep haunting us. Some debts need, deserve being repayed, no matter the cost. So go, punch teeth in, rearrange faces and break bones, go but remain who you are. Do what you must, but remember that you are loved. Always.

    In the end, regardless of all else, these words are the ones that echo inside me, that follow me into sleep and remain with me upon waking:

    I love you.

    I miss you.

    Please come back to me, please come back. Please.

  • V

    18. Decisions.

    It's weird how the strangest things happen to at the most unpredicatable moments. The fairs have been a moderate success, but what happened at the highharvestide fair was really strange. If I believed in silly stuff as fate or gods, I'd think they meant for me to hear it. But it's plain, that it's the very nature of fairs to attract news from a larger region. And that's what I learnt. I heard a name I haven't heard for ages. A name I swore to make extinct. A promise made to Pavel when his blood on my hands was still fresh.

    No fate.

    It's merely a fact that the martial nature of the fairs would attract the a part of the same crowd as before. Now that I think about it, it is a scary thought. I wonder if any of the visitors recognized me for what, and who I was. But that's likely giving myself too much credit. I was just another fighter in their eyes, I guess. And this time, I was just another servant. Dressed still in my commentator gown, I was sitting and staring at a fire, drained, tired. When the wind blew the name to my ear. Whispered it to me, and instantly I was wide awake. Listening to the conversation. Hoping at first that it was not the same man.

    This is not like me.

    Something changed me, I have become accustomed to my life here. The comforts. The respect. The friends. Sabre. The Sails would stand behind me, help me, I like to think. Some of them even out of friendship, rather than duty. Sabre would probably come to the end of the world with me, if I asked her. I know I would follow her to hell or heaven, or wherever. I like to think none of that is bad. Except that I have become lazy. Reluctant to follow through with action.

    A choice.

    It's really that simple. All I have to do is make a choice. Either I go after him, or I don't. Pack most of my things and hire onto a caravan headed for Vaasa. Or don't.

    Something is awfully wrong. I can't decide. I promised Sabre to stay with her. I know that he has plenty of mercenaries in his employ. He needs them. He's probably also a respected person or whatever. If I go, I won't make it quick on him. Not him.

    He's the one responsible for putting Pavel and me against each other. He saw how well we worked together and he paid a lot of gold to watch us fight each other to the death. I'll help him find the Edge. And stay there for days.

    I know I have to go. But I'm putting it off. It has been a week already, and I have not made a move towards preparing anything. I'm lying to myself, telling me that I don't need to pack anyhow.

    I want her to come, and I know it's a bad idea. We'd just get distracted and I would forget.

    But I think that is the problem. I want her to know. To understand. I want her to give me her blessing or whatever. Stupid word. Blessing. Then it is no longer just my decision. If I tell her. To her face.

    I wonder if she persuades me to stay. I think she could, if she really wanted. Should I lie to her? Tell her that I'll be back? It'd make parting easier, and worse. We'd both know it for a lie.

    No. I better be honest.

    Or should I simply leave? Disappear in the night, or in the early morning? Maybe leave a note, telling where I went.

    I will soon have to make a decision. Or give the promise up entirely.

    Is it my decision? Or hers as well?

  • V

    17. Lucky.

    Come to think of it, I'm one lucky bastard. Man.

    Things change, and some don't.

    We're no longer quite as hopelessly, we adjusted, manage to exert some control. It's no longer the unbridled primal force, the hurricane sweeping us away. I suppose she'd say we sailed in stormy waters so long that we learnt how to cope. Little tricks to figure out quickly where the storm took us, for example.

    Where it took us.

    This Edward freak really ticked me off. But I learnt before that messing with some powerful extra-planar spellcaster isn't the smartest thing to do. Not until I figured out how to make spells bounce off me, anyhow.

    Gurt would have probably liked to charge those minions and according to little Aka, Devlin and her were involved in killing one of them already. One dead, only to have themselves be caught and killed by another of the monsters.

    I'm more lucky.

    I faced Edward's minions twice with a group. First we managed to chase it off, by attacking and hurting it quite thoroughly. The second time, mentioning Edward as a name allowed us to get past without being slaughtered. Both times the beast might have been able to kill the whole group. Luckily it didn't.

    What really pissed me off, though, is that the freak had me dragged through some magical hole just to spout some stupid warning at me about not messing with him. I've been spreading that warning since. Just as he told me. But I do it in the hope of getting some goody-two-shoes, wanna-be hero to go after the old fart. Mess with him. If they should succeed it won't be quite as satisfying as personally rearranging his face.

    It's easy to forget. To not care.

    It's enough to merely think of her. Imagine the gentle curves of her body in the dimness of the room. The candles usually go out way too early. The only sound her breathing. Soothing. Reassuring. Even now I can sense the beating of her heart. Slow and relaxed. It's easy to forget everything else. To let the world fade out.

    I shouldn't.

    I trained more. Actually even went and stuck my nose in silly tomes about that weird Ki stuff. What was it Yu said? I only know if you're there already, you're faster than if you have to move there. I never understood that silly need to disguise the powers. Cloud the access. They would call it wisdom. Understanding. Of the world and so on.

    Screw the masters.

    Nothing beats lots and lots of training. And then some more. I watch. Observe. Analyze. And I've started using weights again. None of this listen to the song of life and play the tune of death with your hands crap. A well aimed strike with the side of the hand, the muscles there taut, strained, hard, directed against the obvious way a bear paw moves, simply is bound to hurt. And if lucky breaks a bone. Or two. No big secret. No special strike to that special note that causes a bone to break. No Ki. Maybe knowing, understanding how the body works. How it's shaped. Where muscles are. Where bones are. How they connect. And how those connections are broken.

    I'm skirting the real reason.

    I don't know anymore if I imagined it or if I made it up because it fitted my expectations. I avoided her. Gave her time alone. I knew she'd go and use it the way she did. I wanted her to do it, too, I think. It's weird. I want her to be mine, and I want her to be free at the same time.

    Neither feels right.

    But I'm just so damn lucky she's like me. She understands, I think. Reassures me. And it's easy to believe her anything. I need to remember though, that it's not words that count. Words are hollow. Words are what the masters spout. I'm a man of action.

    Sure, they can talk all day about how someone who understands the secrets of places and planes manages to pass between places at will. Step into the place beyond, the place that is not, and come out wherever they wish on their next step. It's a stupid idea.

    I know where I'd go, if I could do that.

    If I am as lucky as I feel, she'll be there already.

  • V

    16. Trade.

    Give and take.

    I can hear the voices, the bustling crew outside the room. I don't remember if they came in the room, or not. Nor do I really care. Sabre asked them to leave us the quarters for a few hours, and maybe those are over already, or maybe they haven't even started.

    The worth of clothes.

    I can still remember her skin under my hands. Her back was badly in need of some easing. It might have to do with her drinking too much, and so much that Mercy wanted to feed her acid. She fell asleep on the ground, only half on me. Her prize for my clothes, was a massage. A lot of gentle work and the most of her prize was spent on her back alone. She sleeps now in the bunk, one of her slender arms hanging losely down the side. It's high time I collect my thoughts again. So much has been going on recently.

    Parties.

    It's the aftermath of the houseswarming party. Corana showed up, thankfully keeping some kind of control on Mercy. And even Celina appeared, complaining about Mark and hers lack of children. The mood had been really good, the Walk the plank game had eased people up. And the crew was laughing about Drelan saying "I'm a sissy" and then walking up to the parrot. Which the parrot never told him once. Ocean showed up in time to save the mood and provide the background for the musical booze and already people were drunk, Drelan even so drunk he agreed to partake in the strip-dice.

    All of us were having a good time, I think. A good party, Drelan said, and Sabre will receive her bonus soon. What was its price? Sabre got some expensive drinks from the Ferret, of which most are still left, I think. And we spent a couple of hours or days thinking of funny games to play. Is that the price you pay for an evening of fun and joy?

    Gold for fun.

    It's the same with the festivals. We do little more than advertise a place and a date, and then bring together people. Of course, we're also always thinking of things we can have the people do, of little other challenges and of things to give away as prizes. Thanks to Lacey funding the greengrass festival, we almost made a gain. If not for the prizes. I wonder if we play a part in making people happy with this, if it makes a difference. Or if it doesn't.

    I thought it was quite entertaining to see how people struggled with the various difficulties presented to them. Oil, blindfolds, web. It seemed to favor those small halflings. Ginger and Gonnar being the runner-ups. But Keira winning this time. She's become truly amazing. She not only possesses the knowledge and wisdom of a mistress, but now she's also managed to unleash the power of a barbarian rage. I still think the gold spent is a small price to pay, for the knowledge gained.

    A good trade.

    A merchant in Oscura. Mogul'Don Tor. Keira leads us to him. He sells all kinds of interesting things. Not what I really want, but a very useful wand. He shows me pieces of fishbones, carved into some odd forms. Calls it art. Claims they're worth ten-thousand gold. I almost laugh in his face, then think of the little statue we got from Ettins. He offers to trade the wand for the statue, a good deal, I think. Despite the statue being magical itself. I want the original, not some cheap imitation.

    Art.

    He was willing to give me something worth six-thousand gold in exchange for a little slightly magical piece. I think people are crazy. But I also think if people are willing to pay this much, it is time to collect. I just need to find someone who can tell me more about what art is. It's not in Sabre's usual sales.

    A bad trade.

    One of us, a hundred of them. Drelan's trade for a life. It's easy to get lost looking for the blame, but utlimately it was the Ettins fault. It was his hammer that hit Sabre so hard, I was afraid her body could be raised at all. It could, thankfully. And I think with the party she now has forgotten about it as good as possible.

    She asked me never to leave her dead, to always return her to life. And she doesn't want to end up in some paradise with paladins. That made me smile. Because I wouldn't be there.

    Give and take.

    Sometimes I'm scared that I'm not enough for her. And apparently she has the same fears. Maybe it's a bit like the flower Kull tossed far, far beyond the field. You see it lying there, far beyond the reach of your wildest dreams. But we keep trying regardless. Both.

    It's odd, I keep giving more and more to her, and she gives more and more back. If not for the back and forth, we'd be broke now. So it's the best trade I ever made.

    The best deal ever.

  • V

    15. Victims.

    A midsummer night.

    Sixteen. No, fifteen willing victims.

    That's what made the whole thing a success. Money wise it was a ruinous affair. I'm just glad Sabre stood with me. Still stands with me, despite this whole thing going against her very nature.

    I think it all began a few weeks back. The idea.

    Children.

    Usually I hate them. Passionately. They are the victims.

    Not so that boy in Ormpur. The people I was with thought him kidnapped by giants. Impressive fighters, giants. They insisted on going into giant territory to see if they can rescue the kid. Some of us almost die, but we find the kid beating on giants.

    I was impressed. Thoroughly impressed.

    This is no ordinary child, he doesn't want to be a victim and fights giants. Despite people telling him to rather cower and hide in houses. It made me realize that the people just need inspiration to fight. If you show them how fighting is done, they will pick it up themselves, perhaps, and stop being victims.

    Motivation.

    I've first seen it in Norwick. They just ask people to come and beat each other up for the show. Norwick thrives, then. Mercenaries and even the good people come and watch. What they watch for, I don't know. But I learnt a lot. It was an interesting combat.

    You pretend you bring people together for merriment, as Senator Mariston called it. Paladins. They like to think they're helping the people. Well, maybe he is. But the merriment wasn't the main attraction. No. The main event was people beating on each other for little more than material wealth. Or entertainment.

    It was hell.

    I felt my sanity slowly seep out of my body. Collecting like blood on the ground, seeping into it. Disappearing. All these people around me. All of them looking at me, watching me. I was certain I was turning mad. It's a good thing I kept focused enough on the next task. The next item on my list. The next pair to fight. The next target to be shot.

    I pulled through it. Somehow. And only crumbled into the heap I felt when it was all over. The worst thing was the feeling of weakness. Utter helplessness. It's good Sabre was there. It's good Sabre has shown me this state before. I accepted it. I didn't start breaking bones. Without Sabre, I would have surely been lost. Her touch, her arms gathered me up in more than a physical sense.

    Sabre.

    During the fights I heard her voice explaining to Mercy, gesturing to me. Talking with a hint of pride about me. Admiration. I think I have become a bit vain.

    Learning.

    Once more, the rage of the barbarians prove to be quite powerful. Grag was there. Huge. Powerful. His strength is his axe. He can probably kill most people in a few moment, leaving little more than seperated pieces. He won the fights, despite Hedia having first taken him out. The fights greatly favored people of physical strength, but their weakness was magic. It was a bit of a disappointment so little spellcasters turned up.

    But it was interesting to see them fight. Mariston relying on his sword alone, others fighting with two weapons. Even a Zyphlin showing up, trying to dance out of the way of Z's weapons. Keira impressed with her lithe movements and managed to put up a fight against Grag, though in the end she lost.

    What did I learn?

    Even if you catch someone unaware, if they grab a weapon, they might still tear you apart. You have find out their weaknesses and use it against them. Some fall to spells, some to overwhelming strikes.

    In the end, I think it inspired people to fight. Especially the last fight. Keira, small, despite her tatooes almost deceptively fragile against the huge, thickly muscled form of Grag. They didn't use any weapons, just their hands and feet against each other.

    Keira had a chance. A small one, admittedly.

    I hope it inspired some of the spectators that no matter how the odds look, you should still take up the fight. Try. Maybe they'd die.

    But at least they wouldn't be victims.

  • V

    14. Laughter.

    An expression of joy.

    Or fun.

    Meeting new people made me understand more. A lot more. There's Lucretia, she's exactly what I feared the most, at first. She clearly seeks to use her charms for her personal gain. It is quite entertaining to humor her, too. She understands how to present her nice body appealingly. Hinting at what was hidden under the skimpy clothes. Teasing with intimacy.

    But the best thing was when, I don't remember who suggested it, but she went into the abondoned house right at the commons to change there. The rooms where Sabre and I just managed to avoid Terri and her customer. Sometimes Sabre makes it so very hard not to laugh. And when she gave her imitation of a howl, I wished I could. I wished I could leave my past behind completely. End it. Draw a line and become someone new. Someone who laughed.

    Laughter.

    I still fear it. Somehow the shadows of the past are still with me, its claws still dug deep into my flesh. I've seen other people covered in scars, telling me even that they feared for their freedom, were afraid to end up suffering again. I wonder if it wouldn't be far easier to just bear the scars on your body. You can look then, examine them. Hate them.

    Sabre is like me in that aspect. Her scars are not worn on her skin. They are not visible. Unless you know where to look. I know some parts of her history, parts of what made her the woman, the person she is now. Know some of her scars. Know why she can't get pregnant. But some questions were not asked, some mysteries remain.

    It is like this when we are alone. I crave her presence, the warmth of her surprisingly supple form against mine. For some reason I don't tire of watching her, studying her. The way she moves. She admired my walk, the new understanding I found of stretching time to get where I wanted faster. But I admire how her body moves, bends lithely. How her feet find a quiet, silent way to touch the ground. Caress it, really.

    Her feet are good at caressing. And even though she still leaves tiny marks on my skin, bites me here and there. The desire to mark each other so obviously has passed a bit. She's now left a mark on me that I cannot hope to erase, even if I shed my skin.

    A mark, then, like the priests'? Yes and no. Oddly enough it's both about laughter in the end. Rowan's laughter. Dorn's laughter. Sabre's laughter.

    Laugh.

    It's that single command I swore never to obey. It's the one vow, I have kept to in all the painful days, months, years since. I liked Mehmen. I really liked him. We had gone through the training together, survived the first tendays. We had even won a competition as a team and somehow we expected to get rewarded. Had earned a special status. We did. But only I lived.

    A rule: Out of two only one.

    We learnt about the body. How to pin a man. How to use their own weight to break a bone. How to bend an arm to dislocate the shoulder. And we learnt how it made the victim feel. By being a victim, too. In the end came the test. We were supposed to demonstrate what we had learnt, had to break a victim. An unnamed victim. The face covered.

    I think I knew, somehow, I should have known it was Mehmen. Even before Rowan pulled back the cloth. What she saw, read in my face, I don't know. But it was her laughter that made me realize the real test. They didn't want to know if I could find all the weak spots on a body. They were asking if I was a victim, or if I had the will to take control.

    I made a choice, then. And I took a vow. Silently. Of all the wounds I received, of all the sessions of intense pain, they made sure not a single one left a scar. But when I concentrate, I can still hear Rowan's laughter ring in my ears. That's the mark they left on me.

    Laughter.

    Why did I write this? I never wanted to think about it again. I wanted to leave it behind. Behind like all the rest of that life.

    I think Sabre understands it. And it's her laughter that contrasts Rowan's. But the mark she left on me is really her eyes. They're like the sea, I think. One moment they are still, then they can start to move around wildly, uncontrolled. Freely. And sometimes they are closed, and you don't know what the sea will bring. The morning tide can bring new corpses, new stench, or new booty.

    Sabre's laughter is one of being free. One of simply enjoying life. A honest laughter. A rare gift. Sometimes she shares it with me. I treasure those moments. I love her anew, then.

    It's dishonesty that made me turn away from Lucretia. And a promise. But Lucretia used her charms for her own personal gain. It is quite enjoyable, quite fun. But it is not the kind of person I'd like to be around. If we had ended up in a bed, it wouldn't have felt right.

    I wouldn't have been in control.

    Would she have laughed?

  • V

    13. Stupid.

    I'm so stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

    Of course, Sabre wouldn't allow me to call myself a fool, but that's what I am. And not the happy kind I remember from my childhood. Those jesters clad in colorful clothes. No, I'm the stupid kind.

    I challenged an ettin to a boxing match. Stepped up to the giant and felt the fear crawl up my neck, a cold grasp, tightening its fist around my neck. What did I expect, really? To walk up to an Ettin frown at it and make it run away shrieking? It's strange, though. I couldn't bring myself to face a dragon when it was only an illusion, and there I am, stepping right up to a two-headed, hammer wielding giant. Stupid.

    I'd like to write it was because I wanted to impress Sabre. Damn it, I'd be happy to claim I did it to save Taria. But no. I did it because of the rule. I should have knocked out Elor and left him to the Ettins, maybe that would have bought us enough time. Fool that I am I had to help him keep to the rule. Stupid, stupid me.

    I lived. But neither the giant, nor I took the challenge serious. I had help from Sabre, Gurt and even Elor. Would be dead if not for their arrows. Gurt even took the last few blows. And the giant used spells, thankfully he seemed to regard it a point of honor not to use damage spells, but he healed his wounds three times or more. I couldn't. I got beaten like a punching bag.

    Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

    That's what you get for challenging a giant. It's not like barbarians can't punch me to the ground already. And they are my size. Then again. I lived. I impressed Sabre. And I'm impressed myself a bit.

    In the end it worked like it always does. I take the punches, and Sabre shoots the offender down. Or stabs them. Or both. The help Elor and Gurt provided was welcome, too.

    Still it was pretty stupid.

    But it's also stupid to fall in love, to believe, to hope it would last forever. And I do that already. And enjoy it very much. I suppose we sound rather stupid, too, when we start singing. But that's what it really is about.

    Enjoying life.

    One of the goals I set for myself. I think I reached it. Found a way there. Even if it meant making some promises along the way that are not easy to keep. Like promising not to die or leave her without giving her a chance to come along. I didn't even hesitate.

    Stupid?

    Maybe. But it's just her. It's great how she works so well in tune with me. It was initially what made us work together even, I think. I would distract the hobgoblins or kobolds or whatever else and she'd seek out their weak spots and strike. And that was just the beginning. There's so much more that works perfect between us. Maybe I think it's a good idea to keep such a good, such a great team working.

    Maybe I gave up a part of my freedom. Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. I spoke with Keira about it, and as always her insight opened my eyes.

    Freedom.

    It's a lie, she said. Then she went on to explain that we build our own walls, and I understood immediately what she meant. I chose to obey the laws of humans, because I do not wish to be locked up. A wall. Of my own chosing? Yes, and no. It is an accepted wall. I chose to accept that wall.

    The wall I build myself with Sabre is entirely my own. Maybe it is a wall I share with Sabre. Argh, as she might say. It's our wall. It is a good wall. It is not a symbol of being locked up, it is a symbol of having made a choice. A good choice.

    Stupid?

    Maybe.

    But I'm not a fool. I chose to be stupid. I choose.

    Every day.

  • V

    12. Weakness.

    It's easy to see other people's weakness. It's easy because I am not them. I can watch them and do not see what they see. I see them. Keira is very good at that, too. She saw things more clearly than me.

    Three children. That's what they looked like. But they were not. Scouts who did not do their job, that's what it was. They got stuck, trapped, captured by three children. They were waiting, for someone, for something in the middle of a forest. They killed huge, deadly animals by just looking at those.

    Danger.

    Everyone should have realized that. But they didn't. They saw children. I almost got in a fight, almost died. But it was a good thing Keira was there. She keeps a clear mind, she sees beyond appearances.

    In the end a man was gone, and the three children had taken a farm house near Jiyyd. Just like that. Great job by the do-gooders. Children, a great disguise. Kara admited as much. She seemed reasonable enough, when a new group went to look for the lost man.

    Helm's Finest.

    Another nice name. Sometimes names are like clothes. If you wear good clothes, people might think you a noble. Call yourself Helm's Finest and people will think you are in league with the temple.

    But Helm is not a good god, as some people seem to think. I wonder if the Celestial really was in the service of Helm, or if it was merely held by him. It doesn't matter now. The celestial is dead.

    The three freaks are dead, too. But the mystery has only begun. Shane knows more about them. They were seen before, in different disguises. Kara took a disliking to me taking my revenge, though. But she has a weakness. She threatens me with her sword, but she did not use it to kill.

    Weakness.

    Many people believe children anything, it seems. It's a major weakness. Provide them with a child and they will go to great lengths to defend it, bring it to safety and so on. They're even afraid of touching them to make their own job easier.

    But that's not my weakness.

    My weakness is different. It's more subtle. And more complete. It's happened three times now. I cannot really understand it, it is there and maybe I just don't want to understand it. Maybe I refuse to look at it myself, or maybe I can't hope to see it because it is part of me.

    It's Sabre. At first, I had thought it would go away, but I can't seem to get over her. I've given up trying that, now, too. It's just too much fun, I've even begun making plans for the future with her in it. And, even worse, I made those plans with her. It's like living in a dream, though. And it's a good dream. I like to fall asleep when I know this waits for me.

    While this is a weakness, I accept it, I know it. I can perhaps handle it. But Sabre has now three times found a weakness I cannot explain. It's like a burning pain that runs through me, then. It's always when she's close, her lips brush against mine and I feel my strength drawn from me.

    I don't know what she does, or how she does it. I don't even know if it's her intention. All I know is that in that moment, in that instant, my legs just give away under me, my arms become limp and I'm little more than a heap of meat. It seems like all my training, all my past doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

    Just burning white pain.

    It's just that moment of weakness that bothers me, though. It feels strangely more satisfying to be touched by Sabre afterwards. Or to touch her. I don't know what it is, but for a moment there, I lose the tight control over my body entirely. The control I have been taught for so long.

    I'm unsure even if I want it to stop. Maybe if I ask her to try again to lead me there, so I can understand my weakness better. Maybe then I can learn to cope with it. To handle it.

    Weakness.

    It's important to learn of a person's weakness. That allows you to beat them. Beat them easily. Sometimes it is enough to deceive them, with the right illusion. Sometimes you have to touch a nerve. Sometimes you can scare them.

    Can you overcome a weakness by accepting it, by looking it straight in the face? Like Candy suggested for Sabre's fear of spiders? I think some can be overcome that way. But not all. Children will always be a weak point of those who seek to protect the world.

    I am not one of those.

  • V

    11. New beginnings.

    She rests now. Fell asleep. And considering she keeps eating like there's no tomorrow, eating as if she was a giant, or a dragon. I like that picture, a sleeping dragon. I don't want to wake the beast and I also cannot walk away, fascinated by the glorious sight. Basking in the heat.

    That's not why I sat down here, though. I have to order my thoughts, they're a mess still. I don't know how she manages but I can't help coming back for more. And there always is more.

    It's a bit, maybe, like finding a note, and looking back. Realizing there were six different towns where you are now. Finding out that all shared some common parts, but you don't really know what's in common, nor do you know or remember much about the past cities. Or their inhabitants.

    The past.

    There's always guardians of the past. Ghosts, coming to haunt you. Rising from the graves to fulfill their dark plans. No matter how deep you bury the past there's always a way. Given time. And the past seems to have an infinite amount of time.

    My past.

    It feels silly to think of me in the past. Of the things I was before. Before what? Before I was freed? Before I was enslaved? Before I was initiated. Before I met Sabre.

    Maybe that's really how I can slice my past into pieces. Seperate it. Organize it. Understand it.

    I don't remember much of before they took the ship, just faint images of a home. Something you could probably call a home. Maybe that's the lesson from those early days. If you take something for granted, you're just fooling yourself. You have to work continously to make it last. But a child doesn't know. And a child is weak.

    That is the next part of my life. A lesson on weakness. A lesson on property. You are only worth as much as someone is willing to give for you. And I was soon worth nothing. Too willful, too strongheaded, too young, too ugly. Whatever. That's how you end up in the cages.

    The cage.

    I spent too much time there. It's a good place to find out if you're strong enough to live, or die. By chance I was paired with people who lived, so I lived, too. One of the things that can be said about it is that you learn to forget. If you don't, you find yourself unable to move. And fight. And then you die. That's maybe the most important lesson, too. Never let fear freeze you.

    Then of course came the time when I showed the will to fight, earned my place. With blood. And finally got the opportunity to train with the initiates. Their fascination with death was mine, still is mine. It was a painful, a slow transition. But in the end I learnt, understood that for them, for me, life is just a long, painful death.

    Death.

    I wouldn't have guessed, then, that it would be that very training that allowed my escape. Their acceptance as pain as just another step in your own transition to death taught me how to endure, how to survive my own death. It wasn't intended, though, but an opportunity well used. Dumped and presumed dead, I used the opportunity and began a new life. As Pavel.

    At first, I just wanted to leave the region, leave it far behind. But I found people who actually cared for me. And then I met Sabre. I slowly learnt about the business part of the world. A world of lies and deceptions. And I was officially freed. I learnt about the power of groups, learnt that you're better off with a group of people who back you up. No matter what.

    And then Sabre showed me a place where I could belong to. A place that I could call home. And I accepted it as my home. I hadn't thought it wise to bind myself but now I even welcomed it. I promised her that I won't leave her and I meant it. And she promised that it is not an end. But a beginning.

    A new beginning.

    I don't know what the future holds. And I barely know the past. I wonder if Oscura is looking forward to the future that awaits her. Or if she is scared. I wonder about my own future, but I think I'm going to like it. I think we are going to like it. A lot.

    It doesn't have quite that many ghosts from the past left. Unlike Oscura.

  • V

    10. Power.

    That's what I crave. That's what life truly is about. It's all about who has the power to make things come true. Those are the ones who make the decisions. Or maybe they don't. Maybe power is making a decision and then make it come true?

    I don't really care.

    The power I crave is the power to get just a few things done. Some of them are only now visible to me. I've heard about it, of course. The abudant step. I thought it was only possible through magic. But it seems I managed to do it by chance once already. I stepped through the place, the here and now into the place beyond.

    It's a weird experience, I just wanted to sidestep an oncoming wolf. A rather big one at that. But instead of standing next to the place where I should be I found myself stuck in a glimmering void. It's a strange thing. I didn't understand how it was possible until a while later.

    I guess I was lucky that I somehow managed to return to the place I came from in time. My group might have been worried otherwise. Rightfully so, perhaps. If not for them, I would have thought it a dream. But in the end, it was a hint of power yet to be achieved.

    Motivation.

    People have goals. I understand slowly that there are reasons for them to do things. To attempt things. To risk their own life. Like the paladins. They thought to bargain for some components. Thought to steal our prize. Had they fought us, we would have lost. I have no doubts about that. Their combat prowess is way above ours. That's why we wanted them along to begin with.

    What is true power?

    To be able to defeat your opponents? That is just a display of power. There's a lot more to power than just that. They had the strength to beat us, yet Sabre and me made our goal come true. Managed to beat them. Maybe because we didn't hesitate. They were slowed down because one of theirs had a headache. And I think ultimately they are slowed down because they aren't willing to give everything to achieve their goals. They hold some ideas above their goals.

    It makes me wonder if there's something I wouldn't give up to achieve my goals. To achieve more power. Sabre. Would I give her up for power? I wouldn't. On the other hand I think I would. But like I told Darey. Those do-gooders aren't going to hire us for jobs in the future. That's even when they would have offered to pay us five or ten times the gold he was offering, it wouldn't have been enough. Maybe twenty times his rate would have been enough. Twenty jobs is a long, long way into the future. But it's still just twenty times. The future is infinitely longer.

    It's the same with Sabre. I need her to handle an aspect of life I can't handle. And I trust her to do it right. That's rare. She's a great companion, in fights and in beds and, just anywhere. That's not common. But most importantly she's a true and close friend. A soulmate. That's unique. So, yes, I would abondon her if all those things were met and improved upon. I just don't think that'll happen ever.

    Maybe that's the true reason I was so utterly shocked.

    I always thought that those stories they tell you in whispers about names and their powers are just fairy tales. Some fool wizard can try to trick you with spells and take your will, but if someone learns your name they can't suddenly control you. Can they? I'm no longer sure. I've been entrusted a name and just knowing the name makes me feel strange, important, powerful, and even a bit responsible.

    It's of course Sabre's name. It scared me, that power. It really did. I tried to run. Run far, far away. But I couldn't I kept turning back, and yes, I even longed for her presence. I think I can't escape. Not anymore. And I'm even enjoying myself. I feel a bit guilty for not being there when things turned ugly. But when even others fell, I don't think I could have made a difference. But in the hobgoblin caves I made a difference, I think.

    Well, scared.

    I'm scared. Still. But it's really her who had a lot of trouble just saying it. When I think about it, I'm the one who has it easy. It's her name, after all. She gave me her name. For better or for worse she gave herself entirely to me. I'm stunned. I'm out of words.

    I don't even remember how long ago it was. Don't remember if it was day or night. Well maybe that's because it was in Oscura. But time also has little meaning when she's around. But it is one thing to look at someone without clothes on. And another to see them naked. To see them strip entirely and seat themselves in your lap.

    I love her.

    That's the simple truth. And as she just earlier said, it isn't hard to believe anymore that she loves me just as much. A diamond. That's what she called me. She used her power to claim me, more or less. Come to think of it, if anyone but her had such control over me, I'd be gone. But not so with her. She gives as much as she takes. I have power over her as well. But I don't really use it.

    Unused power.

    I wonder what the sense is behind having power and not making use of it. Being afraid of using it, even. Regardless there's no need to use it. However it gives me a feeling of responsibility. And I even like it a bit. It serves as a purpose for now. A welcome purpose.

    Can power be a purpose? My purpose for life? Achieve perfection, that's what they tried to teach me. Power does not come from being perfect. Being perfect, though, grants you some powers. And already I taste some of those. I like it.

    Power. Not combat prowess. That's what I crave.

    Too often I have learnt that combat prowess comes from the tools you bring to the fight. Even in a contest, it is very rarely a contest of pure skill, always the combatants will insist on bringing armor or swords. They claim it is how they fight. I have rarely seen a true test of pure skill since I've been dumped for dead. But that comes with the eternal truth you learn first:

    No fight is ever fair.

    Those with the power decide the rules. I want to decide the rules. I'd be happy if I can arrange for me to see the world with the best guide I can imagine. With Sabre. But that requires to get back her ship.

    No fight is ever fair.

    I wonder what the paladins will think of next. Do they desire revenge? Do they blame us? Sabre seemed to think the paladins themselves hold no grudge, but their cleric might. I best keep my eyes open. His spells and his sword hurt.

  • V

    9. Envy.

    It's envy that originally made me able to enter the training. That made me last through the initiation. Now, I am the cause of envy to some. Has my training paid off?

    Not fully, not yet.

    I learnt that the hard way. A well prepared wizard is yet above my level. I am not able to penetrate their defenses. I have to train harder yet until I figure out how to keep magic from affecting me. Then I will have a chance. I will also need some items that help me fight wizards.

    I fought twice and I lost twice. I must also be wary of barbarians and their rages. Under the influence of their fury they are frightful opponents. They don't understand the delicacies of attacks, but their unchecked strength allows them to hit extraordinarily hard and also grants them additional endurance.

    Alba. Kull. They taught me a lesson. A hard learnt one. An important one. You are not unbeatable. No matter how hard you train, no matter how many successes you have, your foes do not remain as weak as they were before. Or as strong. In a fight, it is not about who has trained more, it is about who can hurt the other more.

    Still there are some things I could maybe truly be proud of. There are those that admire, envy Sabre and me. Some elven senator wishing for a bodyguard like me. Or Taria offering to take care of me, when Sabre is not around. I didn't directly tell her I'd much rather go with Sabre, then stay behind, but I think Taria understands. Or Rilia. I don't understand her, she seems like some snobby elf at times, and then she blows me kisses.

    Elves. Women. Men.

    I fail to even understand Sabre, and yes, I'm somewhat afraid to ask what she sees in me. What anyone sees in me. Not of the question. Of the answer. We both know that sooner or later, we'll end up killing each other. We're a danger to each other. I know it. She knows it. But I don't want it to end.

    I told her that once I'm dead, she may read this. Once she'S killed me. It's strange to think of it like that. She's saved my life before and yet the only one I can think of who could possibly kill me is her. Still while it's fun there's no reason to be hasty.

    It's extremely silly to hope for a dream to come true.

    Isn't that what envy is all about? You look at something and imagine yourself to have it. Dream of yourself as someone you are not. That's something that kept me low, kept me a slave for a long while. I think the moment I understood envy I grew up. Wasn't a child any longer.

    Understood is giving me too much credit. At first, I fell for it. I had seen them fight. The disciples of the long death. It was amazing. I doubt everyone would have noticed the way they reached for their opponents' weak spots. They didn't punch or kick. They touched, grabbed, tore. What made them worth a show was the pain they inflicted.

    Their goal has always been pain. A whole lot of pain. That's not what attracted me though. I envied the way they survived without even armor or weapons. A gladiator didn't get to pick weapons. Not like some of the people I see these days. I envy their equipment. It makes them extraordinarily strong. It supplements them. But it also binds them. Limits them.

    Even then I think I saw the choice. Rely on your inner fury, let it flow freely and just hand out pain blindly. Or do it the studied, the cold, calculated way the disciples did it. I know I lack strength to just punch myself through life. So I envied the disciples the way they used their cunning, their perception and their knowledge to even make the fact they didn't use armor an advantage.

    I tried.

    It was a lot of pain to bear. It was a lot of pain to give. In the end, they had opened my eyes to a different understanding. To a new path. I've taken the first steps. But it's like a flight of stairs. After the first step, you notice there are two more. You take another and you discover yet two more.

    I'm still chasing a dream.

    It's true. I've long since reached the skills I admired, envied, desired before. Now I'm training harder, hoping to open up new possibilities. But I've not found a goal for myself yet. I feel like wandering along a nightlit Peltarch. The streets curve this way and that, and I randomly walk down an alley maybe because the lamps burn a little bit brighter there.

    I don't have a destination.

    Maybe that is what I envy in some people. Their goal. Senria as the last one. She's one of those women who actually want a child. With a husband, even. Her life has a direction. It's nice to know also that some people can't keep their hands off each other, just like Sabre and me. Though I certainly don't envy Daniel. He desires a future like some others, but he picked the wrong woman.

    What I don't understand is why people want to have children. The world is a very, very harsh and cruel place. You can't protect children from it. You can't teach them to fight for themselves. They are doomed. That alone is reason enough not to. Not in this world. Maybe that's what I should aim for.

    A better world.

    But what would make it better? Slavery should go. But people would also need to eat. It's a dream. Can I dream it? Can I desire it enough? Is it that what people are promised in afterlife? A dream come true? A paradise.

    The heart of envy.

    You imagine a perfect state. Once you reach it, you know it to be imperfect.

    I can but try.

    Every step you take with a direction in mind, gets you closer. If you wander without desire, without envy you get lost.

  • V

    8. Animals.

    A harmless chat?

    I wonder. It reveals much about people's desires, perhaps. People's perceptions. The question seemed simple, without a deeper meaning. It had been caused by Dev mentioning he was a bear due to wild magic. I had been turned into a werewolf. Are you still yourself, then?

    You think like yourself. I remember fearing to be slain for what I appeared to be. I pretended to be just a pet to some strong warrior who had been with me. The original change had happened in a bit of ironic way. I was charging a worg, at the time, when a magic surge took me and transformed my body. Added fur, a snout. The form of a werewolf is very resistant to attacks, very powerful.

    It is different. I was no longer myself. My mind was my own but my body a stronger version. I was able to tear through orcs and hobgoblins without much trouble, but it was lonely. Back then I enjoyed the might the form provided. But there's no point in battle mastery if it turns you into something alien. Something that breaks your ties to other people.

    I didn't understand it then. I understand now.

    I've created a tie. Should I be slain or attacked, someone will be there to avenge me. Sabre. And she'll bring a good part of the Sails, now that she's been promoted. I would do the same for her. She's braved her worst fear for me already.

    Sabre charging back into a group of spiders because I was weakened by poison, not following swift enough. The pure fact is stunning. I was holding them off to buy the others enough time to get away. I didn't want Sabre to risk her life. I wanted to save hers. She says it's not my decision if I'm worth dying for or not. She's right.

    Spiders.

    There's a form of torture I was taught. A style to fight that was called Spider Dance. It is named this way because it requires a lot of poison to use effectively. It copies the spiders, too, in that each finger holds a different poison. Four fingers. Two hands. Eight legs.

    I learnt it anew, then. The idea is to deliver poison to the right places, in the right dose to make someone feel utterly weak. Helpless. At your mercy. It works. I was helpless. I had to be dragged. I shouldn't mention to Sabre I was taught this. Or should I?

    Candy and she herself asked me to help her best her fear of spiders. Maybe in the late stages this will help her become to appreciate the spiders' ways.

    We escaped. Barely alive.

    We ended up in the bath house afterwards. Spending time in the water, Hawk, Dev, Sabre and me. Sabre wore the very small pink clothes. Not much hidden. We ended up chatting about transformations, oddly enough. And Sabre asked what kind of animal we'd like to be.

    A landshark, a lion. Strange wishes if you ask me. Sabre chose a bird. Free as a bird. I would have chosen the same. Time and again my love for her shows as true. I picked a tressym then. A gryffon would be more powerful, but they're good creatures. Not me.

    Freedom.

    It's a powerful desire. Since she charged into spiders for me, I realized a thing that was hinted at before. Sabre said that I shouldn't worry about being locked up, if she's around. Yes, it is true. I think I can brave being locked up. For her.

    For some things, though, you also need knowledge.

    About the samples Sabre was promised. Deacon probably knows more about these things. He traded or trades with similar things? He says he does not trade with slaves. I wonder if I believe that statement still. Pirates were those who boarded the ship. They took me. Sold me. Made me what I am now.

    For now I will bide my time. For Sabre's sake. I promised Deacon I will challenge anyone of the crew to a brawl, should I find out they deal in slavery. And I know how to provide a lot of pain. A whole lot of pain.

    Animals are bought and sold. Humans shouldn't be.

    We're more than animals. There's a huge difference, an animal doesn't use gold to buy food. Nor do they really torment each other for joy. That's humans. Maybe it's not so grand to be a human, after all. I wonder if love is something limited to humans.

    You can tame animals. Wild animals. That's what has happened to Dev? Apparently Meri has him eating out of her hand. Is that a good or a bad thing? Is he bound by magic against his will, or is it his will?

    There's many things that bind a human. Food has to be bought. You have to work for gold. Earn it. People don't create their own food, some are bound by strange laws. Ties. I have one of those now. Does it limit me, take my freedom?

    Not with Sabre. We both love to be free too much to let it get in the way of us.

    Others enslave themselves. I pity them. Animals don't enslave themselves. Maybe they're better off.

    I would love to be a Tressym. It would be great to stalk over rooftops, watch. And fly off. But I suppose I'd miss Sabre. A bit. A lot.

    I don't want to be an animal. Not truly.

  • S

    Very nice 🙂

  • V

    7. Change.

    A slow transformation. That's what it is. What it was. It becomes more apparent when you see someone else. Look at Dev, for example. He's love struck. Love sick since he met his Meri.

    Maybe that's too weak. Bewitched. That's what Tala used. And I think she might have been right. He's been acting very strange, especially when he wears the armor his Meri gave him. Helping cure her of lycantrophy, he got to spend a good while with her and now has some kind of crush on her. She apparently at least humors him. But she's of noble birth, some rich family. He's not much more than a wild, untamed warrior following the barbarian ways of Tempus.

    He changes. Wears a dress, fine robes. All to impress her or her family. Is it Dev she loves? Or is it what Dev's strives to become? Will his change be a good thing, for him? He was a warrior, will he become some noble man? Settle down, calm down? Like Mark's Celina? Is it a gradual change or a sudden transformation, triggered by something, like a full moon's effect on werewolves?

    I love you.

    Do those words trigger and cause such a change? Sabre changed. I changed. Even though we certainly didn't mean to. But it happened. At first the change was terrifying. You can think the words all day long, can think and ponder the meaning of a relationship over in your head, but that's just trying to give a name to the attraction. A quiet, a silent attempt. Something to order your own thoughts. Feelings.

    Once you spoke the words, there's no going back. I wouldn't have thought it possible. Not for me. I promised myself not to create ties. How did I get there? How did we end up like this? Of course, the essence was there. For a long while. As Sabre said, we'd be lying if our shared friendship and lust was just that. It was more. We were just admiting it. As the sages said, affection and attraction. Love.

    Who would have thought the seductive woman I thought a dangerous backstabber and pickpocket, the one I expected to rob me blind and silly, who would have thought her mere presence can bring a smile to me. Can make me feel content? At first, I was not impressed with the company she kept. The crew didn't care for me and I returned the sentiment. I enjoyed her fellowship while it lasted. Well, until one of her crew managed to mess it up for me. Likely because he fancied her himself. We had exchanged little tidbits of our pasts. One of the things that brought us together, perhaps, was the desire to leave the past behind. But that was that. It seemed over. It had been fun. But all good things must come to an end.

    I half expected to not see her again. Probably because I would gather enough gold to leave this bare country and disappear to some far away place, hoping to leave those that knew me as a slave behind. But it came differently. Somehow she convinced the captain I'd make a fine addition to the crew as her bodyguard. And so I was hired. I enjoyed the payment, I thrived. I was freed. It all fell into place. And then, the words. Was it unwise to speak them?

    I was just shocked. Terrified. Uncomfortable. There's a lot of unsaid expectations coming with that word. I know I wasn't going to meet any of those. And when I dared to glance to Sabre again, afraid of seeing her expectant look, she seemed even worse off than me. Scared. Frightened. There it was again, the desire to quench this fear. But I knew I was standing on thin ice. I could hear the cracks forming under me. One false movement and I knew I'd be drowning. Frozen to death even if I were able to float. So I jumped. To some place that seemed halfway safe.

    My words made her smile and she hasn't stopped smiling since. And it's infectious. The happiness has caught me as well. Somehow the world seems a lot more bearable. Less hostile. Sometimes it's hard to remember that the world's a harsh place. As harsh as before. What a strange word. Before. Well, especially when she's close. It made me forget, it makes me forget and for a moment I can be happy. Entirely. And judging by Sabre's smiles she's too.

    Did the world change?

    Was it transformed?

    Did something happen to me? Did I change? Was I bewitched?

    Not in the same way as Dev. He is really bewitched. Out of his mind. No longer fully in control of what he does. His ex-werewolf girlfriend did something to him, even if it was just giving him a cursed armor. Of course, I don't think it's possible to seperate him from the armor, though. Not while he has that crush.

    When he wears it, he sometimes starts babbling about some emeralds. Green eyes. Or whatever. And he wanders off aimlessly. Almost got me killed. More than once. Walked into a group of goblins in the woods, uncaring. It's wrong. This is worse than what happened to me. To Sabre. To us. This is truly bewitching.

    I wonder if his Meri does it on purpose, or if she's unaware of what she's caused. None of the crew has met her yet. But apparently that elven cleric was there for the curing. So she can't be evil, can she? Perhaps she's trying to turn him away from Tempus. He dropped his weapon and shield heading off, following that strange impulse to find those eyes.

    Should I be worried?

    Maybe. But I can't worry at the moment.

    There's other things that worry me. A Morgan offering to sell things. Sabre was invited to sample them all. She'll likely do it. At least partially. I will have to be there, too. As her bodyguard. Maybe as her lover. Maybe just watch. Time will tell.

    Devlin changes. Too abruptly. I changed. Sabre changed.

    I like changes. Slow changes. Some changes are good. Some aren't.

    Is the world a better place now? I don't think so. There's no magical transformation that just gets rid of all unpleasant things. That's not possible. But there's small changes, tiny things that make the world ever so much more bearable.

    Maybe I can make a difference. Make it a better place.

    It would be nice. To act for once.

    Promote change.

  • V

    6. Games.

    I remember them faintly.

    They're distant, the hazy memory of a time long gone. Like from a half-forgotten dream, a childhood.

    Yes, that's what it was. An elven cleric convinced of his pantheons superiority. Convinced Umberlants should be killed, challenging the Sails. Not even half the Sails chose Umberlee as their patron. But he wanted the fight. Longed for it. Called it preparation for an afterlife to come.

    There's differences, huge ones, between shouting at each other who's father is better, whose brothers are bigger, a fight between children about whose toy is best and a street brawl, men assaulting you with the intent to take your purse and giving a damn about how you look afterwards. And that's a long way off from a fight with weapons where the sole concern is to slay or be slain.

    Did they know?

    Did they care?

    What frightens me most about the whole farce is that I understand them. I know their reasoning. The Sails fought for what they thought was their honour. The elf did the same. I'm fairly certain all think they were right.

    Pride, like greed, kills people.

    I'm one to talk. I've taken pride in my ability to beat the excellent second in command Drelan. I've become arrogant. Assumed he would accept defeat in brawling. My own arrogance made me fall before him. Now, he's propably still way above my ability to take on armed and armored, but I've spent enough time training to give him a fight unarmored. I should take the brawl crown back from him. For what purpose?

    Pride?

    Pride.

    I've fought some barbarian. Impressive with an axe. He's got a wide collection of weapons. Unarmed he wasn't even a match. In a proper armed contest, it was even. He just left his left side too open. Allowed me to strike more often. A mistake for him. I should study his way a bit. Barbarians are reckless warriors, they know how to hit for real. Hurt like hell. Made the mistake to underestimate them before.

    Taria also demonstrated the power of the gods quite efficiently. Unarmed, unarmored with just Umberlee's blessings to help her she put up a fight. Hurt badly. I definitely need to get me proper equipment before I try to take on those group of Fury worshippers. If they're prepared for me, or an assault in general, I'm dead.

    I don't want to die.

    It's strange. The statement has a new meaning, even now. I don't want to die. Not for fear of death, that was its meaning before. Now I want to live. For better or worse. Cheesy words. Hers. Mine? They fit. I don't care about words, but I know life wouldn't be the same without Sabre. It's scary to have someone who knows your secrets.

    I told her about the initiation. How I got permitted into the order. I don't know anymore why I told her. I shouldn't have. It doesn't make sense. But when I look at her now, watch her peaceful, content sleep, I think it was the right thing to do. I don't know what else would have helped quench the fear in her eyes. And I wanted to that. I still want to do precisely that.

    I think I'm falling from the strictures of the order. Losing myself. And I enjoy it. Revel in it. Or I'm finally understanding what true pain means. Both is possible. Either way I don't regret a thing.

    It helps me prepare other people for the pain of life. Of dying.

    Children again.

    Orcs are messing with Jiyyd. Some elusive female helped orcs enter Jiyyd unnoticed, sneak into a house, kill the adults, claim the children. They're poor, so there's no real profit in helping them. But since there's a group of people going right after orcs, I see no harm in going along. Pick up some loot.

    Orcs have good loot. Some of them are quite strong and capable to defend themselves. They know how to defend their property.

    The group finds a child. They corner it as much as the orc it was taken from. I am able to prepare the child. Motivate it. Teach it the first lesson.

    Pain will be there. It's the only companion that never ceases to follow you. His parents are dead. It's a good wound. A deep wound. It will provide a long hurt. I wonder if he saw how the orcs crushed his father's skull, gutted his mother and cut up his aunt. Maybe the orcs cut deep enough to make him a man.

    He's twelve. Or elven?

    I gave him a staff. His time for games is gone. It's serious now, no more friendly fights. He has learnt the meaning of a blade.

    No more games.

    Pride. Wealth. Age. Sex. All these mean nothing to a sword.

    That's the real life.

    An edge. A cut. The pain.

    Games belong in dreams.

    They should stay there.

  • V

    5. Love.

    Funny thing. If I was paranoid I'd be convinced some goddess of Love is haunting or taunting me.

    A halfling girl in Jiyyd. Originally I had hoped to have her wander into the swamp and die to stirges. Easy loot. Turns out her heart was set on a mystery singer from there. Luckily Sabre was there. She managed to chat the girl up and we end up with at least a paid mission.

    Find my mystery sweetheart.

    It's a silly concept. How could it ever work out between them? A troll singer and a halfling girl. They seem both not grown up. They think they love each other and are afraid they displease their sweetheart.

    They are stuck courting the possiblities. Not acting.

    My own situation is the direct opposite. One could say I am certain of the affection between Sabre and me. There's not much hesitation. But even if it should be love, we won't admit it. We rather enjoy it.

    I, no, we act. Because we know that nothing lasts forever.

    As now, Sabre left to follow up a rumor. Trying to track down a ship. I miss her presence, she always knows how to approach a situation, knows and understands how to make a profit. Now that she's gone, it's like being stuck in a storm.

    Bad weather.

    Wind blows in your face, you want to go one way, but the rain whips you so badly you can't. You try to make things work and it's just no good. Like the storm that hit Peltarch. Drowning the docks, so to speak.

    I realized I don't really like Umberlee. Cowering is not what I do. It doesn't come naturally to me. Maybe I should abondon any hope to travel the seas. If something hits me, like a bad weather, I want to hit back. And hit back harder. It's a long way.

    It's a dangerous course to challenge a goddess.

    Especially if it's not a lone goddess. I'm fairly sure some group of worshippers of the Furies are behind this. Or some wizard experimenting with weather magic. Not all of the sails will like this prospect. I better not talk about it. Just find those responsible and break their necks.

    Dead people don't cause storms. Do they?

    Sometimes those that are gone are missed. I know that, now. I hate politics. I wish it was as simple as finding the wizard and killing them, but no. I will have to know what happens when I kill them. Who'll come after me.

    Politics. Friends.

    A mindless zombie would show more reaction. Gaerielle. Found in Jiyyd. I'm not really sure if I did the right thing, but she seemed a bit worse off yet than even Velvet. The sisterhood were definitely mistreating her, trying to lock her up.

    After all is said and done, maybe my own plan to make people give gold under the pretense to help the girl was not nice, but I'm glad Taria finally fixed her. Now she seems fine.

    Fine as in shy. Worse than the halfling girl.

    That's yet unresolved.

    We got the means to at least make more cash off it. Was just a minor sacrifice, too. Fighting a necromancer to retrieve a chest of magical treasures. Paid off. Two dead, but neither me nor Sabre. Luckily his own creations turned on the necromancer.

    I wonder what'll become of the two sweethearts. A troll and a halfling. A story for bards.

    It's one of the moments where it is hard to keep to the vow.

    I mustn't laugh.

    Love.