3. The Long Walk, a Black Lion's Tale.

The Long Walk, a Black Lion's Tale.


  • As Cecil hazards his guess, Ashena looks at first surprised, then delighted, chuckling as she toys with a coil of sturdy rope. Grinning, she replies: "Close enough, Northman! It's a B-word at the least, you shall pass!" With that, she lowers the rope, big knots set at even intervals to provide leverage for the climb.

    Before Cecil can even start to try, however, Gralam hoists a heavy basket onto his arm, covered with a red-and-white chequered cloth. Within is a veritable little feast, a wedge of hard, fine cheese, a small container of butter, ripe pears, plums and apples, a large bottle of cider, fragrant fresh bread and a couple of sticky cinnamon buns. Ignoring any possible protests, Gralam re-mounts his horse. "No way am I third-wheeling this reunion, you two deserve some private time. I'll distract mother, but I doubt I'll last more than an hour. Don't make it longer than that, or I can't guarantee staying amicable!" With a grin and a wave, Gralam departs, leaving Cecil standing beneath the tree, his climbing hampered by both armour and a cumbersome basket.

    "Ha! If that wasn't it, it SHOULD have been! Balors ... hah! Well. I suppose if I'm not to take down your Entire tree, I should probably de-armor a little." I told her, shaking my head. This was NOT the reunion I had guessed, not by a long shot. I had imagined guard posts, an estate wall or two, imposing pennants flapping in the breeze to remind me that I myself HAVE no house, no crest, no estates. Just myself, and well, a symbol of sorts despite the lack of banners to put it on. I had expected to be greeted at some point by nobles in finery, slowing down imperious noses at me, if for no other reason than tradition, perhaps, but scowling nobles nonetheless.

    Honestly, this was WAY better, and the only trouble I had at this point, was believing that it was real!

    My armor was, as usual, easy enough to remove. If you put the straps in the right places, a squire isn't necessary, but every second stretched, knowing she was watching, probably wearing the -exact- same amused little smile I remember, the one she wore when I stepped too close to a gelatinous cube in the sewers, and came out looking like I belonged there! I tried to set it down carefully as I removed pieces one at a time, but I wanted nothing more than to leap up that rope and reach out and touch her, convince myself that this was no trick, and -then- let the rest of the details sort themselves out.

    I was patient, after all, and piled my armor neatly against the tree, my sword with it, while I tied the basket to my belt. On a smaller person, it probably would have been cumbersome, but it caused no issue on the way up. Hand over hand, I climbed the rope. Hand over hand, closer to that familiar face looking down at me, her braid longer now than before, making for an impressive rope of its own. I ALMOST grabbed at that near the top, playfully aiming to spook her as I did so, but of course I didn't. Tossing her over the edge of her treehouse would have been a lousy way to see her again!

    I hoisted myself up, was about to stand at my full height, and immediately clipped myself with a branch, raining down leaves and other treestuff upon us, quite ruining my heroic appearance, I think. But hey, it's the thought that counts, right?

    *I took a breath, prepared my speech ... shit. I didn't have one at all, actually. Everything just happened ... SO fast! At least I didn't have bandit blood on me anymore, but here she was, nose to n...chest with me, with me stooped over sheepishly, shiny armor tossed aside and head smarting slightly from the branch. So, what I basically did, was say, lifting the basket, "Uh, hey. Fancy meeting you here. You hungry?"

    Oh yeah. Reeeeeeeeeal smooth, Cecil.


  • [As before but not explained, indented is from Karnivor, as written collaboratively]

    Gralam seemed not the type to rush, easily allowing for any stops along the way that I wished for - though there did seem to be just a hint of hidden amusement behind his affable smile as a bit of my nerves become apparant.
    "Oh, rest assured Ashena would have my head on a silver platter if you had any kind of 'bad' reception upon our own lands. As for alone..."
    *He grinned, whistled sharply and then tilted his head, waiting. A short moment later, a responding call came from the east - then the west, and the south.
    "We're not all that alone - it just seems that way for eyes unaccustomed to it. Our rangers cover quite a bit of land though as you could tell, not all of it. From here on out we should remain unaccosted, however. Still got a fair ways to go, so let's be on our way. We can stop by the treehouse for lunch. That's Ashena and my secret hideaway, back when we were duty-skirting little runts. I think you might like it."
    I couldn't help but to like this fellow, especially since I was already looking forward to meeting him from Ashena's stories, before. He's very much like described, and his reason for amusement became apparent rather quickly.
    The treehouse was set in an enormous oak tree, tucked away in a scenic clearing bathed in the mid-day sunshine. A babbling brook flowed nearby, just out of sight, and a burst of poppies and bluebells covered the ground underneath it. An instantly recognizable silver steed lifts its head as we approached, giving a friendly huff in greeting. Ashena's horse! Surely the paladin steed would not go far without the paladin herself? The treehouse loomed overhead, though there was no visible means to get up into it.
    Gralam simply rolled his eyes and waited, until a female voice called down. "What's the password?" Ashena's smiling face peeked down at us far below, her long braid dangling.

    I had nearly raised my hand to hail her, and was about to shout, but my mouth was dry, and then admittedly hanging open at her demand.

    Okay, first of all ... could that treehouse even support me? At the VERY least I was going to have to de-armor, surely. Sure the tree was big, but I can still hear the screams of furniture that has perished beneath me, betraying my trust, bruising my pride (okay, my hindquarters) and ego alike!

    That, however, was a secondary concern. A password ? How was I supposed to know a password? I'd never seen this treehouse. Was it a secret treehouse password? Was it a secret brother and sister password? Or was she asking ME? Funny, she'd never looked terribly sphinx-like before...

    Recalling a memory from early on, and -almost- not saying it due to the occasional effects it had, I raised my head and said, "Balor" to her. Sure, it could have been any number of things, but ... yikes, just thinking back I remember sunshine and the smell of grass at the south gate, the sound of adventurers mingling, and me staring calf-eyed at the woman staring down at me, both of us basically kids at that point. I blinked, and remembered where I was again, looking up at her while I awaited her answer, with ... well, admittedly... only a SMALL glance over my shoulder to see if saying that word had the VERY OCCASIONAL unintended effect.

    to be continued...


  • I took the next road slowly, and carefully, since I know what lurks just out of sight of gates and guards. As I expected, they didn't really have many scouts out, or any that I saw (Which I guess is the point!), due to the high number of scavengers and bandits out. It's too risky, with things so chaotic around here. Sure enough, I spotted the next town a couple hours into my ride, and immediately dismounted from Tempest III, a stout warhorse with a knack for kicking creatures to death that get too close, and a -serious- hunger for apples. He'd become cranky over the past few days as the apples grew scarce.

    Walking him sedately along, I had just enough time to wonder if my armor, silvery and accented with crimson, was going to attract that same kind of attention as before, and make me look lootable, rather than dangerous ... when an arrow went zinging off of my pauldron. That was all the prompting I needed to don my helm, and I gave Tempest a slap to send him to safety. He paused long enough to give me a sour look, like I was stealing all of his fun, and then he trotted off, seeming in no hurry. How did I end up with a bloody horse like that?

    At any rate, the arrows kept coming, but not as many as they should have used, since I basically just kept my eyes open, and skipped between them, having a little time because they were firing from extreme range. This was what I practiced, after all. Survival isn't JUST about being able to survive wounds, but avoid them. Even since I got good at that, I've seldom ended up poor from buying piles of necessary potions. Speaking of potions ... an invisibility one might just be the trick I needed, so I kept it in hand, skipping as deftly as one can in plate between falling arrows, ignoring the ones that went pinging off of the platinum and steel, and making my way for a clump of trees. I even tried to speed up a little to look like I was fleeing the fight itself. Probably not convincing, but it would get me to the trees. Could the little wooded area ALSO have bandits? Of course. But it would serve, for now. I wanted them to close in, after all.

    I heard no chanting, and was hit with no spells, so this really may have been simple rabble. Perhaps not a -real- force or threat, unless they were trying to bait me, so I went with the cautious plan. I ducked behind some trees, got low, and drank the potion. I watched some arrows fall where I WAS as I slowly walked in the direction of the firing, and once I was close enough, I charged, knowing they would hear me ... but also knowing that it was be too late for them to DO anything about it by then, too.

    I purposely dragged my sword through a bush far to my side just as I burst into their area, and they shot the poor bush several times at the crashing and shaking it did in response, just before I crashed into the first bandit with my entire body (Thanks for helping me slow down!), and hit the one who raised his bow at me with the flat of my sword hard enough to knock him down as I set my feet and prepared for the rest of the fighters to come out.

    Several had already started moving around to my previous location, and they came running at the ROAR I let out with my charge, and two more that were close by already simply RAN, while the braver of their lot turned to face me. You would think a giant, previously invisible, roaring armored man would prove to be problematic, and maybe worth running from, but I saw the looks on their faces as they closed in, circling. They didn't care. Fanaticism? Bloodlust? Wrong mushroom snack in the woods? Who the hell knows, they simply didn't look RIGHT, and seemingly at random, they charged!

    I hit the first figure square on, a testing strike to see if they were armored under those cloaks, and heard a surprised grunt as he slid wetly to the pine needles littering the forest floor where we fought. I had just enough time to be surprised at the lack of armor, OR defensive motion from him, when three more closed in. They struck ALMOST in tandem, two longswords between two men, and a pair of shortswords with the other, so I blocked what I could, and focused on the fellow with the short-swords, JUST in case he had the same kind of knowledge as Vick and Ras, for where to stick them.

    He blocked my first strike, and ducked the second, and then I was done dodging. I set my feet, and swept the blade toward the ground to the side of him, then up, not even waiting to see if it hit before turning to the one behind me. I didn't NEED to see. I knew it was going to hit. The rhythm was set, the flow of the battle had started, and these men were not demons, or quaggoths, or hooked horrors, or drow. These were but men, and not trained like the Creel or the Crimson Spikes.

    I knew. The blade arcing over my head to strike down at the opposite angle of where I had swung upward, trailed red and pink in the air, sizzling slightly as it crashed down on the second bandit, who to his credit, DID try to block. Poorly. I shifted my weight even before he hit the ground, and kept the momentum going, however, and the third fellow had already missed his strike, not expecting me to have turned so suddenly. The surprise on his face was clear, and familiar as I watched the reddish glow of my sword streak toward him, and he started to snarl a curse as it was clear he wasn't going to be able to block in time. The curse cut off with a gurgle, and I kicked him off the sword where it had made it most of the way through his side, his swordarm on the ground beside him, preparing myself to take on the ones who must have closed in by now.

    A wobbling arrow clattered through the trees to land harmlessly near my feet, and I heard another thud into a tree nearby, but those were clearly retreating shots. Apparently, the others had looked before they leaped, and left their companions to me. Smart, but cowardly. Cowardly like the one I crashed into, who seemed to be coming to, but pretending to be dead near my feet. Or maybe he -was- dying. I DID hit him pretty hard... I leaned down to roll him over, and get a good look at his face, only to feel a knife slide up behind my knee and give me a stab. It was barely a scratch, but annoying, and made me hope that the stupid thing wasn't poisoned.

    I growled at him to drop it, and he did, with a squeak. I then told him to STAY, like a dog, and surprisingly enough, he did, while I turned over the corpses around me, and checked their pockets and the like, shaking my head as I found nearly nothing of value. Some coins, too many knives, and various other obviously looted items. It would be WAY too easy if they'd had orders or information on them, anyway. But this one ...

    I waved as I came near the town, my prize struggling feebly over the back of Tempest, as if he could get free of the crushing ropes that held him bound, and moments later I was giving Thad's name, providing my destination, and asking if they had reason to want any of these bandits for questioning or the like. The "like" was most likely a rope from the terse answer I got about the bandit, but perhaps they'd get a few words out of him first. Either way, I was given a direction, a meal for a fair price, and a well wish on my way to the west, closer to my destination now, close enough that there would be no point to staying the night. There was still afternoon left, after all.

    One early evening, as the sun is just dipping below the treetops, a man on horseback stops him on the road. He has messy chestnut hair and calm, measuring brown eyes, dressed in unassuming earthen-toned leathers - though his horse is fine and strong, obviously bred and trained for battle. "You must be Cecil", states the man factually, obviously having studied him quite closely from afar or perhaps unnoticed from within the forest. "Well come along then. She's waiting." With that, the man gestures and sets his horse to a slow trot. Along the way, he even remembers to introduce himself, momentarily sheepish. "Oh. I'm Gralam. You know, the nice brother." Finally, with that quick grin, the resemblance to his twin Ashena is more apparant and while not overly chatty, he proves quite companionable and open as they travel together for the last mile.

    Well, meeting Gralam was a surprise, though a welcome one. I expected to arrive, looking like a lost deserter or something, unannounced and barely anticipated, with how unreliable sending a letter may have been, but here I am. I'm close, now, and Gralam and I are stopping so I can clean the blood off of my armor and water my horse before we go in. I wonder how much he knows of me.


  • At the Teroldys family estate, Ashena has just returned from a weeks long campaign to clear out a section of forest used by bandits and highwaymen. Her armour is dusty, its tabard slashed and bloodied as her greaves clank against the cool marble stones of the entrance hall, braid swinging behind her. As usual her posture is straight and proud, though Cecil, could he see her at this moment, would note the weariness hidden behind her resolute steps. In the empty hallway, she pauses, sagging slightly and exhales slowly, eyes closing. Hurried footsteps in the distance sees her straightening at once, and a herald comes into view bearing a letter. Upon reading it, a sudden smile lights up Ashena's tired face, like warm sunshine after a grim, grey day. On feet suddenly light as air, she hurries further into the house, shouting for her mother.

    As the household hustles and bustles in preparation for Cecil's arrival, his journey through the Vast soon reveals the truth behind Ashena's prolonged stay. There's civil unrest, both in the form of roaming bandit bands attacking and political tension from a broken off engagement between two great rival houses. While House Teroldys isn't directly involved, they do have long-lasting ties to one of the houses, and a more recent link to the other, making for a delicate balancing act. Cecil passes villages burnt to the ground, others barricaded shut and only reluctantly opening their gates to him. The closer he gets to the Teroldys estate, however, the more easily welcomed he finds himself through mention of Ashena.

    My letter has been sent, and the road has been interesting so far.

    I don't really know what to expect, after what I've encountered so far, but I pray that that Lion sees me safely to her, or more to the point, that she's safe by the time I get there. The trip to the Vast was largely uneventful save a couple encounters with goblins, a stray bugbear or three, and having to go out of my way to get around the Scar.

    As I've gotten closer, however, a few things have caught my attention. Namely, the smoke. Even when you can't see it, the smell of burned wood and -other things- keeps intruding on the otherwise fresh air, and seems to show up more often the closer I get. Three days in, I saw why. An entire village, burned to the ground. Scavengers scattered at my approach. Both the winged kind, and the not-winged kind, so I kept an eye on my back now and again to make sure they couldn't circle around.

    Sure enough, there were others in the ruins of the village. Those who didn't scatter at the dust and ask I kicked up as I clanked my way along, my horse making distressed noises at the smells washing over us. Some spared me no more than a glance, others brandished sticks, knives, and the remains of farm tools at me til they were sure I wasn't there to pick over their homes, or their survivors. This place had seen the worst that other men had to offer, it seems.

    For a day, I helped. I lifted things that others could not, and joy of joys, managed to unearth some survivors huddled in basements, trapped by falling timbers, but breathing through wet rags, and surviving on the remains of their cellars!

    That's not to say that more often than anything else, we recovered bodies. I stayed for a day to help recover what I could, then I stayed another day to help bury the dead. While there, I learned of the chaos. Ashena's family wasn't really involved, but the warring neighbors spread wanton chaos in between their lands, and bandits and looters and worse took advantage, as they always do in times of war. Worse, so little was actually known in these smaller towns. Fear is one thing. Fear and confusion is worse.

    The town has been gracious, but it's been three days. It's time to go on. I learned that the next town over has seen strife too, but is better guarded. They've seen less harm, but probably because of their guard, and habit of not letting people in. Thad the builder in this village told me to let them know he sent me, and to mention that I'm heading to the Teroldys estates, and that I'll probably be able to go through the next town unhindered. I thanked him for him trouble, left them the gold that I took off of the last pack of bandits who thought my gear was for show, and now I set off to make my way there. I'll see you soon, my love. I will probably send a letter at the next town.


  • Things at home are ... frustrating, to say the least. That's not to say I mind the banter, the jokes, I don't even care overmuch about the silly rumors. What's getting me, is stuff like that scene in the gaol. I made every decision I could think to make, and it wasn't enough.

    Today, I walk to the vast. Well, I ride, and walk, and perhaps hop on a wagon or two ... I'm just going to make my way there. I'm sending a letter ahead, though, just to make sure I don't surprise anyone, and cause a fuss. I'm less wary of nobles now, at least, having settled into my new job well enough, and getting used to dealing with them all the time.

    It's going to be a good walk, too. The weather is good, I'm in good health, I've got plenty of food, and I'm fully supplied on healing and other necessities. Besides, going OUT of Narfell has GOT to be safer than being IN it, right?

    A letter is folded between pages until it's passed to a fast courier to start making its way to the Vast, ahead of him.

    My dearest Ashena,

    I hope this letter finds you well. I know it's been a little while since I wrote, but I wanted you to know that I am still safe and sound, or at least as much as an adventurer can be with the kinds of things we get up to!

    At any rate, many things have happened over the last days, and weeks, and months. Aside from being an Inquisitor in Peltarch now, I helped avert a war with the orcs, survived several 'adventures' from this Derek Underhill maniac, and managed to survive several run-ins with a great threat, known as the Creel. More concerning still, however, is the would-be ally that has arrived near town, to which half of the ODS defected to when they were banned from town from wanting to take Peltarch's own people for their own justice.

    Despite all that, I know that Peltarch and her adventurers have themselves well in hand. After several events that led me to questioning myself, my approach, even my goals, but not my worth, I've decided something. In living this life of mine, I want to make sure that I live it to the fullest, with those things that bring me the most joy, being foremost in my mind. With that being said, I am on my way to you.

    Regardless of the outcome, whether your family accepts me, or us, or not, I am coming to you. I walk for the Vast, and will go from village to village as I travel, helping as I can, and hoping to hear word of you and your family as I come nearer. If bandits are on the path, I will see them dealt with. If a village needs aid, I will aid them. I will walk, with the Lion beside me, til I am beside YOU once more, for that above all else is what I desire more than anything.

    There is no pressure in my coming. I merely wish to complete what plans we laid so long ago now, it seems. For me to meet your family. For us to be able to speak, and laugh, and live near one another once more, even if it's for a mere few weeks, before life once more sends us on separate paths. I wish your time, and company, if you'll have me, til we must bow to duty once more.

    All explanation and careful words aside, I Love You, my Ashena. I am coming to you, and may anything that wishes to survive to draw another breath move itself from my path!

    Love always,
    Your Lion, Cecil


  • Alright, fine.

    I'll let Underhill live. His promise on the reward being worth it came through, though I don't quite know how he always gets it just right. Clever lil jerk, he is.

    Into another portal we went, into the plane of dreams and nightmares, he said, which had me expecting to meet more Fey. Yay. That did not, however, turn out to be what it was. No, instead, we were challenged, and our greatest fears, or insecurities, or some other random afflictions beset us instead. You'd think mine would have been falling in battle, or being weak, or failing to save the one I love ... But I've been and done all those things. Instead, my fear was confusion. Not just the spell kind, either.

    I know it seems silly, but people look to me as a leader, more often than not. Because of that, I need to be able to know what people are saying, and doing. This is nearly IMPOSSIBLE when they have some kind of ... indecipherable accent, or mumble, or just adopt a bizarre way of speaking that I cannot get through. I find myself pausing, tipping my head to the side like a confused dog, and trying to guess which words sound like a real, actual, word ... and in a fight, that would cost LIVES. What if someone needed me to stop attacking the thing I'm chopping to pieces, because it's an illusion, and it's actually some poor washing well woman that I thought was a demon? Only Autumn seemed to get it, and she was quietly smiling at me, for which I'm grateful. She's a clever one!

    It drives me crazy, and for however long we were stuck down there ... everybody spoke like that. EVERYBODY. Like bloody Chandra and her mumbling, or Thyr'quara with her strange accent that makes me spend half the time just looking at her blankly. She really must think me an idiot at this point.

    I tried to explain, but nobody got it, til later. All I know is that I was losing it, and probably being kind of mean while I was at it. Not just to them, though. We were all affected strangely at some point or another... hells, especially VICK. For a time there, after I felled the GIGANTIC MONSTER that apparently had an aura of DEATH around it ... thank the GODS for my death ward crystal that I used, my last one too... they all fawned over, and praised VICK for saving them. Yes, THAT Vick. Misogynist, "Women are all crazy and trouble" Vick. Vick, the grand offender of women everywhere, and they couldn't get enough of him!

    Don't get me wrong. I don't necessarily NEED praise, or fawning over, but dammit, I unknowingly risked instant death, seriously, I think only that spelled saved me from the roar of magic I heard in my ears, took it down while it was chasing everyone who was fleeing, and it as "Ohh Vick, you were so brave Vick! Vick saved us!"

    AUGH

    Anyway, that wasn't the worst of it. Poor Lady Kathea was like a footnote in my mind. I saw her, but she wasn't ... her. Just some random nobody in the crowd. Steve was an elf ... which was hilarious if you've met the guy, and poor Syltria. I think I feel the worst for her, since I remember just loathing her. It was that "Oh Gods, why are THEY here" kind of feeling, just dripping with spite, and I wanted nothing to do with them, or anything they had to say. She was worse than useless, she was a nuisance, and wholly unnecessary. I said mean things, and often, thinking them wholly and completely true.

    Then the effect dropped. Everybody started talking normally, but we all remembered everything. Which meant I remembered all the horrible things I said ... and everyone else did too.

    Vick was immediately left alone, except by Thyr who thought it would be funny to hug him, and nearly got stabbed for it, I think... people finally understood why I was losing my mind, and poor Syltria, we could see the tear-stains on her face from the abuse we'd flung at her. Now I feel like I giant jerk, but she seems to have forgiven us, at least.

    How does that Derek guy, always seem to have the most horrific tasks for people? I rather think he's some kind of malevolent minor deity or something, sent to our plane to see how many different and interesting ways he could incite us to put OURSELVES through hell.

    Bastard.

    Alright, next on my to-do list ... maybe find myself a new look, write Ashena a better letter, and go make myself useful for the day. I'm feeling restless for some reason. May the Lion watch over me.


  • A letter is written in his journal before being sent out.

    Dearest Ashena,

    I'm not sure if my other more mundane letters have made it your way, but the troubles we've been having here, reminded me of yours. Not that you're a trouble, or it's your fault, but you mentioned bandits in your homeland in your letter. Bandits began showing here too, and like yours, more organized than expected.

    We've seen Crimson Spikes, ragtag types, and worse ... Creel Barbarians. I just got out of a nasty fight with a large group of them that saw me nearly die, and several others too. Luck, rage, and no small amount of skill from everyone saw us through, but it was a close thing. I hope that your bandit troubles are unrelated, and indeed quite over by now, but I am still here fighting, and will remain so, til the Lion takes me home. I have much more to write about, soon, but for now, I need to find this Derek Underhill bastard, and give him a kicking.

    Love,
    Your Lion


  • Blood and ashes!

    I got yet ANOTHER letter! They're speeding up, somehow, as if this idea is either getting more popular with time, or some folks just waited to submit them? I don't know, this is beyond me, as to how exactly this came about! As amusing as it is, I may have to BURN this letter later, though. Bloody bards ...

    Another letter is pressed between pages:

    Inquisitor Cecil!

    I heard you are looking for assistance. In matters concerning the arcane, I of course work for the Ceurleans. However, for other matters, I'd like you to know that I'm available to help. I consider you a good friend, especially after you took me into the Mermaid Inn room to show me your lance and let me work my magic on it. I know, after that night, that you treat your matters with long, hard thought, mindful of the stiff competition and swelling gravity.

    Things got a bit heated, of course, when we both felt the tingle of your lance, capable as it is to throb hearts and race minds. The mere sight of it weakened my knees. I digress, but only because my adoration of your lance and our time together with it informs my motivation to let you know that I, Nate Wingates, am here for you, Cecil Northman.

    Should you ever require any such assistance, or any assistance at all, please remember your good friend Nate and our fun times together in that inn room.

    Your good friend,

    Nate.

    I've of half a mind to find the EXACT person who started this all ... and make it so this stops, if it gets any worse than ... than ... THIS NONSENSE! By the Lion's whiskers, I don't want -this- kind of talk floating about. It's bad enough that some of those women look at me as if they think Ashena a myth. Let Wingates keep up his theatrics, and they'll start a brand new rumor about why I don't chase the skirts of any of these women with their eyes and comments and casual touches and fluttering eyelashes.

    I wonder, though ... with that list of "no-go" people I started on, perhaps I SHOULD consider these letters, and go pay one of the messenger-men with their pigeons, for an "Adventurer Short-List." I KNOW Borodin heard about this, but her usual frosty silence has prevailed, naturally. Therefore, I'm sure the same rule applies as before. Do what I need or want to get the job done, with respect of the law all the while. Got it. I'll have to think on how I want to do this...

    Dammit.


  • Since when am I so popular?

    This gets more like people are taking it seriously, and I must admit, Caling does pen a fine application. If only I was actually ... what the hell would the word be? Hiring? Recruiting? Probably that ...

    Another letter is pressed between pages.

    Cecil,

    The word is that you're interested in reliable sidekicks and associates. Since Shannon is apparently too busy to consider me as his Inquisitor right now, I'd tender myself.

    I am reasonably skillful at many things, including mechanition, trapwork, magical investigation and library research. I have travelled widely in the realms, accruing knowledge and occasionally interesting items.
    I have a sharp mind and a sharp tongue if needed. I can be loud, or quiet, and it is rare that I have need of corpse recovery, these days. Whilst I excel at fighting the living, when adequately distracted, I also posssess some limited healing and smiting skills as would be expected of a paladin.

    Most of all, you are competent and stable without being self-important. That is a rare trait, and even if the official sidekick position falls to another - You are worthy of inspiration and accompaniment.

    Safe travels, and you know where to find me, if you want to,

    Caling Rydrion
    c/o Bardic College, Peltarch

    Now how many more of these are going to come out of the woodwork? I'm not sure if I'm pleased or paranoid that my name is in so many mouths lately, while I'm busy burying myself in old caselaw and trying to pursue my own research on the planes, and the travel between them.

    Between the S.T.E.E. and the Lance, I keep getting myself into these planar messes, and then when Filifred's about, the planar messes come to US. I either need to catch up, or give up, and the latter's not an option. So, back to the books. I'll have to find Caling and explain to her later, and then track down Borodin to make sure she knows that if this gets any -more- traction, I'll be buried in letters, and would like an answer from above me for some of these questions. Even IF Borodin did approve an ... assistant of some kind, I'm not sure if Caling, despite her qualifications, would do. What she told me still flickers across my memory every time I look at her. I wonder if she's made any progress ... for good OR ill.

    Argh.


  • This page, did NOT make it into Cecil's journal, but his writings about it did, and he copied it over to keep the record. Even then, there are a few stray specks of glitter on the new page, despite his best efforts to eradicate the menace...

    DAMN the stuff! I've stuffed this letter into it's own bag, which I will burn at a later time, but for my records, and I guess SOME degree of amusement, I've copied down the LATEST letter I've received. Next thing you know I'll be getting fan mail, like some kind of storied bard!

    Application of side kick
    Name: Carol Nightingale!
    Occupation: Entertainer
    Why me?: I'm great at keeping back! I'm really good at healing, both magical and mundane! I can also enhance weapons and cast protections. Oooo and I can turn people invisible!
    Why did I apply?: I thought it'd be fun!
    How often have I died?: Who's counting! Not me!

    There are little drawings in the margins of the page and the page is covered in glitter of course. Because of course there were. I can only hope that the fire looks sparkly too when I put this stuff where it belongs. Diadne and I were discussing these exact letters when I last pulled it out, and she burned the small pile of glitter at my feet, thankfully.

    As much as I love having bards around in a fight, since nothing short of letting loose my rage gets the blood pumping as well as a good bard song ... she dies entirely too much to trust as a proper sidekick, and besides, I think I'd spend just as much time trying to keep her reigned in as I would making use of her sidekick skills. Gonna have to say "no" to this one, shame as it is to say so.

    As I wrote above, I can't help but be curious, and slightly concerned with this thought ... What next?"


  • I got another letter today!

    This one was ... not from Ashena.

    Aparently, there is some talk of me when I am not present, which I suppose is a bit of a compliment, since this letter didn't contain scorpions or anything else unpleasant, nor unpleasant words within. Still ... what the hell? To say I'm confused would be a bit of an understatement, but perhaps I WILL talk to the Magistrate. Heavens know Shannon isn't about to pick an Inquisitor any time soon. What if there becomes more than one inquisitor's worth of work? We may not HAVE two inquisitors, and although I've no lack of skill or reputation to attract and recruit adventurers ... some of them are as smart as I am magical.

    Which is NOT AT ALL

    I'll just put the letter between these pages for now ... then go see if I can find some people to talk to to figure out how this even came UP. At least the person who sent it WOULD make a good sidek-err ... assistant? Squire? Whatever. Time to go bend some ears.

    Dear Cecil,

    I am Diadne of Kossuth, Keeper of the Sacred Flame. We have traveled together on several occasions, and I have offered service and support to your travels and quests. I hope you’ve come to know me as a reliable person of good character.

    I had recently inquired of a position with the Cerulean Knights through Nathan Wingates. I was looking for a way to serve the city in some capacity, and I thought the Ceruleans would be the best fit. However, membership of the Cerulean Knights requires the wearing of a uniform. Because my faith is a symbol of who I am and represent, I will not wear one. I will not make an exception in this regard.

    This morning, I was standing in the commons and I overheard a conversation. Someone lightheartedly mentioned that “Cecil should get a sidekick”. We all laughed, and amusing candidates were mentioned and snide comments bantered about, but when I went back to my room I thought to myself, “Why not?”

    So, Cecil of the Black Lion, with Lady Borodin’s permission I offer myself as an assistant to the inquisitor. Sidekick if it amuses you. I offer a magical weapon to complement your edged. Should quarry become elusive I can set him ablaze. Should your quarry magically protect himself I can strip his defenses. And should your quarry turn invisible and run, I can grant you haste, and the ability to see heat in objects that pierces the veil of invisibility.

    I also offer to relieve you of the drudgery of routine paperwork. Depending on your nature that may very well be the most valuable service I offer.

    Regards,

    Diadne


  • A letter arrived for me today, bearing the telltale seal of House Teroldys. The vellum is cream-coloured and expensive, and the neat and tidy hand instantly recognizable as Ashena's. I quickly broke the seal, and read. I've put it between these pages to keep.

    "My dearly beloved! It has been too long since my last letter, and I wouldst not have your brow furrowed o'er fears of my well-being. Rest assured, I ~am~ well, if weary and frustrated at the troubles in the Vast seeming ne'er quite vanquished. The bandits I told you of were but the tip of the iceberg, t'wouldst seeem - they are more organized than suspected, and I fear have aims greater than mere robbery. While I leave the game of thrones to Aymon to play, the politics of my home is something I cannot ignore as a factor here. Whoever is backing these miscreants - and someone assuredly is - I cannot leave our people unprotected here. No more can you leave our people unprotected there, for truly both the Vast and Narfell, I consider our home."

    "It warms my heart to know you are doing the things I cannot, for Narfell's innocent souls. Ne'er is such work truly done, but sometimes, one must stop and reflect on the good things that have been achieved. Look not always to the next threat, and the next, 'til trouble is all that you see, my Lion! Look at what you have accomplished and allow yourself a moment of pride - the same pride I take in all the things that you do. Ever yours, ~Ashena"

    I've read it perhaps a dozen times. Maybe more. I've kept it in a sealed pouch, safe from water, weather, and blood, whether mine or another's, so that I can continue to read it, and once more feel how I do now, especially when I need it most. I will continue m work, and whether I win or lose, press on or fall back, I WILL know these words, at least, through it all.

    I rather suspect Narfell's letter delivery to be about as reliable as everything else, so I wonder how many of our letters back and forth never made it to one another? Thankfully, it matters not. We know where each other are, we still clearly stand where we did the last time we were close enough to touch one another, and as ever, she says the things that banish the darkness and fear from my heart without even trying. Ashena, you do not know, nor might you ever, how much I needed this, just now. Thank you. Always. Now, it's time to gather some worthy folks, and quit my whimpering. There's glory, honor, and strength to be had out there, and damnit, I intend to GET IT.

    I will always keep your name on my lips, Ashena. Right beside the Lion's.

    Always.


  • The blood fountained to the side, as the shoulder was severed completely, with not a string of solid tissue holding the former limb to it's previous possessor. It was now a piece of meat, falling to the floor as if dropped by a careless child. A crimson spray arced toward the ceiling of the cavern like a redheaded bard tossing her hair mid-dance, and I continued my own dance. The limb was still cartwheeling through the air like a thrown axe when my formerly upward swinging sword came down on the other side of me, which WAS behind me but a moment ago, until that swing carried through the prior creature's arm, and was now crashing down upon the head of a smaller creature, who was still screaming in dismay that his sword had been turned aside on my seemingly unprotected back. His halves fell quietly to the sides of where he had been standing with a stomach-unsettling wet splat, not unlike tossing soggy clothing to the floor with some force.

    This, and a hundred other moments just like it.

    Sensations sometimes joined the images. Blood hitting my face. Weapons bouncing off of my armor, or striking home to hit flesh, but distantly felt ... as if I was not truly there, or simply too involved in the carnage to care.

    A circle formed, corpses piling up to the point where new foes had to clamber over the ring around me, hip high on ME which was head-high on a smaller goblin already. Yes, climb the mountain, to face the other mountain, little savage. Thoughts like that skipped across my mind, stones on a pond, leaving smallish ripples of awareness that they were there, before they sank beneath the surface, and I returned my attention to the task at hand.

    The circle grew. The wall climbed ever upward. Redness surrounded me, broken only by flashes of white bone, or purple organs, sometimes the color of armor or metal peeked though, but even then ... covered in red.

    Light grew dim as the circle grew above my head. Somehow, the foes that fell or leaped or were pushed into the hole were ground into the walls with my constantly moving feet as I swung, seeming to magically grow the wall. I was in a well. It's grisly brickwork was corpses, and I was the welldigger, but without a ladder to see me safely out.

    The flow ... did not stop. I'm sure I was injured, but I couldn't feel it, wouldn't feel it, but I DID feel the air grow thick, and coppery, before it grew stale, as if I was deep into a cave that hadn't seen a fresh breeze in a generation.

    Eventually ... the foes quit coming. They had a fall before them to reach me, I realized. I knew where to strike by the sound of the scream coming nearer. How much time had passed since the battle had shifted in such a fashion? How thick was the "wall" now? Could I climb corpses? The questions started to show up, and the walls seemed closer all of a sudden. More solid. More real. Were they not real before?

    The dull tickle of panic at the back of my mind made it's presence known, just barely, and it was enough to break me fully out of my bloodlust fueled rage, and really SEE, what was around me. It was still, of course, corpses ... but these ones had faces, now. Sure, this one was a goblin, this one a bugbear, that one a Kobold, the other a medusa, snakes hanging limply, staring blankly back at me with reptilian indifference.

    Those faces didn't scare me. The others did. Lady Varya was one, the daughter of Anna, who I had just dueled. Half the face was missing, but recognizable all the same. That flash of bard-red hair? It belonged to Isolde. Was it her I briefly remembered? A dark patch was Vick, his accusing stare wider open than some of the rest, and he was pressed between lizardmen, irony doing nothing to dull the crimson stain that took him from ear to opposite shoulder. Roslyn was here, and also there, the two halves of her recognizable outfit a few feet from each other in the macabre brickwork of the well, and situated just below lady Kathea, whose face was frozen in expression that was somehow ... unsurprised. Disappointed, and unsurprised. I had JUST, to my growing horror, recognized a face near armor of blue and gold, please not Ashena ... anyone but Ashena...

    The other recognizable faces blurred, as I scrubbed at my eyes to make the illusion fade, but it did not. It only got clearer. To get free ... I would have to cut through that wall. COULD I? Did I do that to the people I called friends? Why? Where was I, anyway? I knew none of that, I only knew, that I had to ... had to ... Gods, I didn't even know what that burning NEED that I felt WAS. Only that I was alone, and HAD to reach that goal, no matter the cost, but I couldn't figure it out, it was always on the tip of my paper dry tongue, trapped between torn lips, trapped between clenching teeth mere moments before ... or was it days?

    I felt it, then. That feeling like my teeth were vibrating, and made of granite. Wild Magic. Then all was dark, and I...

    I woke, possibly screaming, sword in hand, and buried in the tree next to me. Thank the Lion I wasn't sleeping at the inn this time ... I haven't had a nightmare like this in a long time. I ... I have to find a way to keep busy. Too busy to dream, once sleep finds me. I don't want to see that again. I can't help but wonder WHY ... but part of doesn't even want to know.

    Not even a little bit.


  • Enough

    Getting my thoughts together has been a pain in the tail, lately. The Lion knows my struggle, currently, and I do too, to a degree. I haven't felt this very much since ... well, since the days of the Bugbear Sack of Norwick. That was one of the last times I fell, and I can barely remember it, save for this pervasive feeling of being "Less".

    So much has happened since then, that I can barely even remember feeling "less" in ANY way. I've grown, gotten better gear, got a better job, and started living someplace that more stuff actually HAPPENS. It's been ... kind of fulfilling, actually. I wonder if Ashena would be proud, impressed even, with who I've become since she went home. I hope she is well, and successful, and that her family is proud of her efforts, there.

    I felt her absence most keenly, on a trip that I've just now felt like I could finally write about. I don't know if her being there would have helped, or not ... but I miss those days, and I miss her strength at my side. Yes, I'm finally going to talk about that damnable trip where I fell.

    It started like so many other adventures. People wanting to go do something, do some good. The talk of demons came up, I explained to Raryldor that he was wrong, and that Jiyyd still had PLENTY of demons, but that you just had to go FIND them, holed up below the town's ruins, and off we went to go see if I was right, despite the fact that I knew very well that I was.

    We brought many people, and as always, I warned people over and over, and many different junctions in the trip, that even though we had "Won" in Jiyyd, THINGS lingered still. The threat is still real, and they needed to be wary. Most took me seriously. Others assured me they'd be fine, or said nothing, despite having NO idea what they were walking in to. My words had no effect on those, big surprise, so away we went.

    Things went crazy almost immediately. Larger demons such a Vrocks assaulted us from the get go, summoning their succubi, and were joined by a Hezrou, if I'm not mistaken. It. Was. Chaos. It was chaos that was ... remarkably short lived, however. Magics flew, swords swung, and I roared the name of the Lion and charged forth, to find squishy spots in demonflesh to exploit, and destroy them as they tried to get past me to more vulnerable people. We slew dozens of various demons, there, on the surface, and feeling confident in our performance ... we moved to the well.

    As we descended, spells were renewed, given out, and spoken about, so that people knew at what strength we were moving forward, but we faced an obstacle that most were unfamiliar with. A magic door, that someone used ray of frost on, once, near me, and I remembered it as the key. Past it, however, were powerful undead, brought about by an image of a demon, who had manifested twice by then (Which I forgot to mention), warning us off, saying that the territory there was his.

    The issue with this door, you see ... is that once the spell is cast, and it opens ... it closes shortly after. You have to get in, get through, and get everyone else through too. We could hear undead and demons behind it though ... so it had to be ME going through first, to try to clear a path, and attract attention away from it ... so I did. And it ... KIND OF worked.

    I charged in, was swarmed, some others fought IN the doorway behind me, and we shoved back into the entryway when the door closed itself. I was along, and surrounded ... and WINNING. I learned better, how to defend myself these past few years, and if I concentrated on WAITING (Damn the waiting to the hells, but it's necessary) for the perfect opening, I could focus on not getting hit until they farked up and left themselves open. I very much improved my own expertise in my fighting style since I first learned to be less of a smasher, and more of a proper swordsman, and it saved my bacon while I awaited my reinforcements.

    They came, of course, eventually, and spells flew in to sizzle demonhides, Raryldor charged in, magicked to the teeth and shouting challenge to the demons, and mockery to their efforts, which I must admit, was kind of well founded. With flashes of summoning magic, I assume, more demons appeared in a steady stream, first retrievers, then Hezrou, and of course, plenty of Vrocks throughout the whole thing. And Each. One. Perished. I found my rhythm, I was spelled up enough to resist the mind-tricks of the succubi, and we were progressing steadily through the cave.

    The demon leader, his tone condescending, appeared again. It mocked Raryldor back, insulting his God and insulting his devotion to the God, whose name was so seldom invoked, and warned us off again. It was met with more insults and provocation from Raryldor, whose spells and sword were still going strong, but I think it was starting to run low, as he urged on on, away from the projection of the demon, and some of us went. Others ... stayed to talk with the projection. I went ahead, to hold the front, and cut down the numbers that I could hear coming, before they could get to the back line while they chatted ... and was surrounded by more than ever before.

    For a few moments ... it was glorious. Vrocks surrounded me. My ring kept their diseases at bay, my blade kept their claws away, and my own roar of defiance scattered them as their companions fell. Some got by me, but I heard them get engaged, and had a much bigger group to be concerned with anyway. Those succubi were flinging their mind-fogging influences my way, nearly a dozen of them, but my mind protection spells were protecting me, allowing me to keep cutting the Vrocks down like goblins ...

    Until they weren't.

    The spell faded unexpectedly, and before I could drink a clarity potion, or a protection from negative energy, or ANYTHING ... my mind went fuzzy, and I found myself standing there. I barely had the presence of mind to walk away from danger, back to the group, one painstaking step at a time ... and then the next spell hit. I was drained, and that ... weakened me for the next. And the one after. And the one after that. Dammit all, but the Vrocks swarmed past me to the group, seeing me sag under the weight of my own armor, as if I was no longer a concern. Frankly, I wasn't.

    Each drain hit me harder than the last, and finally, everything dimmed, my hearing went dull and fuzzy, I heard a ringing, and could only see the stone floor and clawed feet walking over me, on me, and past.

    The unthinkable had happened. DOZENS of demons slain. Dozens of greater ones, Vrocks and Hezrous and Retrievers and more ... and I fell to succubi. Hundreds of smaller demons were scattered like leaves before a great wind, fallen to the strength of the Lion ... and I was lying on the ground like a puppet with it's strings cut, listening to Raryldor taunt's to the demon, turn to cries of "RUN! RETREAT!" at my fall.

    I failed, and even as I slid into darkness, I tried to call out to the Lion ... and my cries were lost in the dark, Unheard.

    I remember the white sand and pillars. I remember awaiting mocking, and offers, in the "between place", but I don't remember any coming for me. Perhaps they knew better.

    It's been months, since, but I have not been able to recover, retrain, regain my strength. I seek out challenges to push myself to recovery, but there's two issues. One, not many challenges exist where not only can I learn, but others can survive at the same time, and two ... the list of people I can trust to hold themselves, and others, together, grows slim.

    I even gave Filifred another chance. The desert and dragon teleport incident DID end up going better than expected, and we DID get home ... but we took some folks to the Worg Woods, and past, only to find some outsider summons, and their summoner, a hag. She offered to teach Filifred how to summon more things, we couldn't talk him out of it, it OF COURSE went tits up, and someone died. A black hearted new guy, who The High Priest wouldn't raise, and once again he's on "The List."

    As successful as Raryldor was at first, I think that demon threw as much as he did at us, as quickly as he did, due to Raryldor's taunts. His boasts about his power. I'd rather be underestimated, and live, after all ... and as much as "most" of us survived the hag trip, Filifred is almost as bad as Rust-boy, in making fool decisions. All three, onto the list you go!

    I need to get my strength back, I need to hand-pick an adventuring crew, and start enforcing the "if I don't know you, you don't come somewhere deadly" rule, and I need to start putting the fear into fools who would endanger others carelessly. I've had enough.


  • On Dwarves

    Another day, another delve into someplace I probably should not be. It started innocently enough. Kethro, seeming hell bent on going adventuring, was quick to jump upon my arrival into the commons as a sure sign that I would join everyone on an adventure ... somewhere. The plan didn't seem concrete, so my enthusiasm was perhaps a bit lacking, so I kept everyone waiting a minute while I organized my supplies and listened in to see exactly what I might be getting myself into THIS time.

    After a while, it seemed like he truly just wanted to be out, looking for threats, and exploring, widening his knowledge of the area, so ... seeing nothing wrong with that, I signed up, and off we went. I'll have to remember her name, but a Sharran priestess was with us, and was polite enough to ask if anybody was unwilling to have the blessings of her Dark Goddess, which was ... remarkably polite for a follower of the likes of Shar. Credit where credit is due, I suppose.

    A lady I've not met before, Syltria, was there too, and it's her I have to thank for most of the blessings I had in the fights to come. I'll keep an eye out for her in future trips, as she has a good head on her, and seems to be a thoughtful, careful type. Can't have too many of those. Also of note was Bronn, who joined me at the front to great effect. Kethro was up front a lot too, in a half-scout, half-stab-a-lot sort of role, but he ended up getting beat up a bit much several times. I think he could benefit on letting others get the enemy's attention thoroughly before jumping in, in the future.

    Speaking of Kethro, he was leading, which I also said out loud several times, but he asked my opinion a few times, and then basically deferred to me leading for most of the trip, partially because I knew the areas we were in (At first), and partially because ... I don't know why. Because it always happens? I hope that nobody thinks I 'take over' uninvited. It literally just seems to -happen-. Anyway, I'm rambling. Onto the details I want to remember!

    We went to the Windy Plains, where the first unusual thing we encountered was ... me? But not me. Someone asked me if I had a doppelganger, to which I said not to my knowledge, and they pointed up. Sure enough, in armor and coloring JUST like mine, was a large feminine figure atop a ridge, who mimicked my words and then responded to us, before flying away without further incident. Like, leaped into the air and poof, gone.

    We kept an eye out for her later, but saw no other sign, so onward we went, into the ruined tower on the hill that led to the Undercaves beneath Jiyyd. I warned everyone that demon stragglers would still be there, and sure enough, plenty of them came swooping in. They were quickly and easily dispatched, Kethro and Bronn usually taking one of two out before I even got to engage, which was ... refreshing. Things went on like that, nice and normal, even past that silly magic door, til we found something new.

    A Bebilith. Bronn and I saw it, he passed me a potion wordlessly, which I drank gratefully, and we charged in and started chopping! It took special interest in me, but that's how I like it. I didn't even put my guard up especially well, instead I focused on making the most of that potion that Bronn gave me, starting the fight with a ROAR worthy of the Lion, and I felt his power come as it always does, filling me with strength, and courage, and power!

    The claws raked across my armor, glanced off my helm, clanged against my sword, and battered at me as if they could start picking me apart, so many legs flickering in and out of sight that it was hard to keep track of ... so I didn't. I focused on that mandibled face, the crushing jaws, hairy and horrifying, and the too many sets of eyes, all fixed on me. Yeah, this is one snack that isn't going to go down easy, buddy. The smell of singed demon hairs from it's fuzzy, spikey, carapace wafted about the cavern, joined by the acrid stench of its blood as the fight swiftly went south for it, and with a screech, its legs buckled, Bronn and I giving it a final wet and crunchy smack as it stood no more, leaking it's nastiness across the cave floor.

    There was once more no sign of magic detected by Syltria or others, so I'm chalking up as just another straggler, which to me, is great news. Their numbers are finite, and if I have to fight them every day, I will, if it means that they'll soon not be able to put up a fight with their lessened numbers, and be gone from this land all the sooner.

    We pressed on, then, up the well and back to the surface, moving to what I was told was an abandoned Dwarf temple, and headed in. It was a depressing scene, the temple ruined, old skeletons of dwarves out front, and delving deep showed why. Corrupted dwarves, in the far back reaches, maddened and senseless were inside, much to the disappointment of Bronn. We captured one, in hopes of learning more about this duergar thing, but as they were NOT duergar, I turned it loose as we left. It was unresponsive before I knocked it out, anyway. They may be totally mad ...

    The trip was successful, and we had no casualties ... hardly any injuries for that matter. Starla didn't even use all of her fireballs, as she kept a running tally for us the whole time, heh. She sure loves them. Perhaps next time I'll lead a trip, on purpose ... I just can't shake the memory of the last one I led, to the Keep of the Fallen, that almost went SO horribly...

    We'll see. By the Lion, I won't quit just because of that, but I DO need to keep people safe, and myself alive. I still expect the Creel to arrive any day now, and knowing our luck, it'll be at the same time as the Duergar show up in force.

    Time will tell.


  • Progress, and what's next

    It's been a couple weeks since I wrote, but for once, it's because not much has happened to me. Or around me, for that matter. Sure, there's been some adventures, some fighting monsters, and that kind of thing ... but nothing profound. I did explore that gift from the Wanderer though, and dove into research about enchanting lately.

    Scott is way ahead of me in this realm of research, or just has a very clear idea of what he wants, and pays others to do all the research ... but my own findings have been useful, and the journey, fulfilling!

    At first, a conversation was had with Karrick about dragonhide, but after separating texts about materials and how they can be used, I realized that if I wanted to use dragonhide to get the kind of protection that my ring offers, I'd need to have ARMOR of it, not just a belt. Seeing as how that won't really for out for me, I scrapped the idea in favor of protective bracers.

    With all the ogres and giants with their clubs I face, I've been noticing that the slight weakness to blunt attacks on me are a pretty nasty weak point, so the enchantments on the gloves are all meant to help me face such foes. My gauntlets of ogre power have a blessing to aid my strength, so I made sure to focus on that, first. Next, a resistance to being bludgeoned is weaved into them too, which compliments the gloves themselves. They're double-banded, and have a nice high cuff on them, which locks tight to make a bracer-like support. No blow is going to be strong enough to make me drop my weapon easily, now.

    Knowing what I wanted was one thing ... but how to get it done? Well, the Wandering God told us to focus on the item we wanted enchanted, and use the token of thanks he gave us ... so that's exactly what I did. I focused on these traits, laid the gloves over one another, said a prayer to that God for guidance, and pressed the little token to the gloves. With a flash of light, it disappeared, and the gloves took on a stonelike sheen to their leather, now firm and protective.

    Perhaps I'll hire a mage, soon. I have been saving Jasmals to enhance a weapon with, and Black Onyx, to make an item to help absorb negative energy rather than letting it harm me directly. Hopefully someone can design something that absorbs it without KEEPING it, cause I have no use for some kind of wearable well of negative energy. Sounds like a good way to attract the wrong kind of attention.

    Anyhow, I should probably go continue stocking up my potion supply. I'm going to end up in a group with someone like Erurk again, I'm certain, and they're inevitably going to be walking around without supplies. Perhaps I'll happen across some more enchanting materials!


  • The Wandering God

    As we left, battered and weary from what I now know was known as The Astral Link, the figure I now know to be Shaundakul approached me. His robes blew in a nonexistent wind, and his gaze went right through me, and without preamble, he told me a story. It seemed like he'd been holding onto it for some time, and that the time for it to reach the ears of another, had finally come.

    The God spoke. "Friedrich Dela Rosa was a human knight-errant from Cormanthor that caught my attention three centuries ago. He used to make long treks only for the sake of traveling and discovering. Wandering east and west, roaming in plain roads or harsh highways, but always watching for the safety of the caravans. In one of his longest treks through the forest I appeared to him. He was baffled, obviously, and took me for someone else. But it didn’t take me too long to convince him who I really was. I went straight to the point and told him I might had a task for him that would forge his character. Friedrich wasn’t likely to object to such a quest coming from me, so he agreed to undertake it."

    "It was a rather simple task for him and his capabilities. He needed to explore a specific high mountain -- one you are now familiar with -- to find ‘something’ I eventually didn’t tell because, you know, where’s the thrill on telling all the details? As much as I hate riddles, sometimes they are entertaining. You can imagine the thing that was to discover as the request came from me. So then, no time to be wasted, he packed up all his care and woe, took his mount, his knightly lance, and wander off as a truly knight-errant. "

    "He left behind the Rimwood, the Midwood, and the Starwood. He explored the Earthwood and even climbed the Galena Mountains, all of which took their brutal toll on both his courage, and his strength. Despite that, he kept his battered head high, and willed his increasingly beaten body onward, despite the foes before him. You know giants and their ilk are not something you deal with in a friendly manner, and he was no stranger to this by now, either."

    "Overcoming the giants, never giving up in this long trek, he still wandered East, looking for this highest of peaks. Singing low, he closed in gradually to the Giantspire mountains, and entered their range, until the majestic and eldest mountain stood before him. The long road and cruel dangers were something he should overcome. You certainly can make up an idea of what he had to face centuries ago in this land of demon’s demeanor. However, Friedrich was a stubborn... and nothing, absolutely nothing like demons, giants and bandits, would stand in his way to achieve glory. Glory? I ask myself why he thought he would have found glory. Human hearts never cease to amaze me in their endless search to attain futile and illusory goals."

    The God kept to his tale, while I listened, as the others rested and recuperated after our flight from the pit fiend that also slew me, but his twisting, rambling tale started to worry me, as his goals, and Friedrich's goals, didn't seem one and the same, so soon in it.

    "Alone, he reached the peak, and dared to explore this cavern. I appeared to him once more and warned about the dangers inside, about what he was actually to find this time, and no jokes were present any longer. Instead, the truth: A planar gate, a vortex of astral links between hells and heavens. An ongoing battle of the Bateezu and the Celestials to gain dominion of such a place. When he heard this... his will almost abandoned him. He had doubts, many doubts about how a simple human, a knight-errant, could interfere and do something significant in this battle between good and evil. To do something, already without provisions, without equipment, even running low on sheer strength of will. To do something with only his mere lance, that had served him to climb to the top of the mountain after losing even his mount and most of his gear due to the harsh weather and enemies that he faced."

    "I told him not to worry too much about that, but not to case aside all concern...since things could escalate quickly if he wouldn’t take part in the task I had set. I assured him that I would watch over him, and blessed his lance. A lance he used now as one might a greatsword, much to my delight, admittedly. The lance... was to contain all the bliss and woe both planes represent to work as an intermediary. Charged with both different types of energies to be effective, and to never fall in one or another category. And so, with such a tool in hand, he walked forward to battle and seize the place from the Bateezu along with the Celestials."

    "The matter was settled, the task accepted, but there was still work to be done, as the portal was not to be closed... but to be kept. And to be kept by who else but him? I made Friedrich Dela Rosa one of my few Champions. He carried the key, the weapon used to settle the affair. He was to watch over this specific link of antagonistic planes. He’d held the link itself that let him teleport at will. As a mere human, however ... some traits from his past can’t never be changed. As a knight-errant, he started to wander between planes. He became a planeswalker and I allowed it."

    "Perhaps it was loneliness at the end, that pervaded his feelings. As every woeful human, he strove from the road and started to frequent the company of devils more often than their adversaries. The devils, the Erinyes specifically, persuaded him easily, as they are wont to do with their various tactics, skills, and arts ... and in no time he was about to favor more one side than another. That was when I had to step on and destroy the lance that I had once so joyfully granted."

    "Stricken, seeming lost, he stood there for months, with the splinters scattered, at the foot of my Shrine. He thought I abandoned him, but that was never the truth. In fact, a part of those feelings were transferred to the lance during Friedrich’s decay. He chose to believe that, it overcame him, and so he let himself die. "

    "Time elapsed, and as his own self was likely to be two now as a planeswalker in the Material and the Astral plane, where a body once lay, a ghost now stood. The devils, interfering as they are known to do, spirited him back to the place he once watched over, and you have an idea of what happened next. Humans seduced by devils are always to be fools. And I’m glad now I can take care of the soul of this fool, Cecil. "

    The God looked about to say more, but my companions stirred, and some seemed to be speaking to him elsewhere, and I very much felt like perhaps I was not the only person being spoken to at the moment, somehow ... but I suppose it can be like that, when chatting about past mistakes with literal, actual, Gods. Overwhelmed, I nodded, and did my best to remember his words, so I've put them down on paper so that I may not forget, and will be able to share them. I admit, on these pages, that I truly don't know what to think of this God, or his actions. I do know this, though. This story, is not over. The convergence of planes is REAL, it's still present, we kicked up a HELL of a fuss on our way out, and now I walk about with the key to a power that no mortal should have (Clearly!), that still works despite it's shattering ... and I even bear the pieces to repair it, if such a thing is possible. For now, I guess I'm simply happy that I was able to bring the soul out of that place.

    It appears I'm going to have to make a decision soon, one way or another. I suppose I'll share this with my friends for now, though I know what some of them will say already. (Like Nate ... he'll just go on with the lance jokes, for example. Goodness, my reputation...) For some reason, I have a deeply unsettled feeling about what the God may have to say next.

    May the Lion preserve me, and bolster me. The affairs of Gods are above my mortal head.


  • Shattered

    Today was as good a day as any. I sent out a notice for magic users to aid me in finding the other half of the lance. Surely, the best way to find out more about it, was to find the rest of it, so out went the call. Juggs answered, as Lady Kathea had, but he was around next time I showed up, so off to scry we went.

    A component, some blessed water, and my helmet ... and there we were, staring into the surface of the water to see an image, (praise to the Mother of Dwarves, of course), which showed us a windswept area, with four pillars that had holes carved or worn into them, probably producing some kind of noise as the wind blew through them.

    At the foot of the shrine, slumped in death, was a body, or what remains of a body after what looks like 100 years, given the state of the armor. Armor which bore the sigil of Shaundakul, God of the winds. I should tell Willow! The body, slumped against the shrine, had a hole in the armor's remains, from which protruded splinters, and the other end of my Lance. Somebody, it seems, had killed the Shaundakulian Knight with it, and now he was somewhere "Far to the west" atop a mountain, with my answer buried in him, or at least ... the next question.

    As we pondered this, the lance shivered, and started to move. I grabbed on, and then Juggs and I, and Caling too, were -Taken-. We vanished, and ended up on what Juggs identified as another plane ... but not one he knew anything about or recognized. We were stuck, or so it seemed, with nothing in any direction of note, until my hand moved, and some light shone at the edge of the lance. Even with the emotions swirling through me, loss and victory, abandonment and the bliss of belonging, that was enough of a signal, and I went through a series of warmup fighting routines with it, making it glow brighter, until we were falling ...

    Yes, falling. From the sky. Above where we were, just west of the gate ... We landed on the dias where we were performing the ritual, and poor Juggs landed on his face, leaving a massive dwarfcrater, while I was more fortunate to land on my feet and merely leave shattered stone footprints and sore feet behind ... and then there was Caling. Who I caught. Must have been quite the sight, except nobody was there to see it.

    Apparently, when we vanished, our friends rushed off to scry us themselves, and came back at hearing the earthshattering crash of us returning to the Prime. I have NO idea what that was all about, but I'm happy that I have Roderick's Planar Orientation Gear, in case this bloody quest of mine strands me on some other plane.

    Speaking to Jonothan warned me of the same. Shaundakul has always been a "Free spirit" of sorts, and fond of travel, even planar, for he and his followers, so I might be getting myself into more than I was originally bargaining for. Perhaps Roderick and I were put together for a reason, all that time ago. It's like the Gods ... oh! Speaking of Gods ...

    In that plane, the first thing that happened, was that we all felt a pressure on our minds, like something was trying to get IN. I don't know what, or who, and we all appeared to resist the effects, somehow, so it brings to mind ... I wonder what kind of attention I've ended up with due to this. And ... what kind is to come. It reminds me too much of those stories of destinies for me to be comfortable ... so why do I feel kind of excited?

    I guess anything beats playing guard to some of the shenanigans in town lately. People need to go have a drink and quit the bullshit. It's getting far past old, and well into "Petty and childish" realms. Now to get this dent out of my armor ... damned Garagosian.


  • Flayed

    It started out innocent enough. And it started with Aniril. Little baiting comments, low stuff really, with the whole "Seeking of people with grey moral codes" to go to the crypts with him for scrolls. Now, of course it could have just meant beating up the active undead for their stuff, and not active graverobbing ... but people seem to enjoy poking at me lately, to see how far I'll take my 'job' to go out of my way to bother them.

    The elf Tirreth and his damned cat were a good example of that. If he'd just not sassed Yana, it wouldn't have been an issue, either.

    Anyway, as he collected volunteers with very little positive response, he had just enough people that I didn't recognize, or already knew would be in trouble in the sewers, so I said I'd go too, once he 'lowered his standards' to include the likes of me, heh. Personally, I just didn't want to wander down there later and drag out bodies.

    Things went ... well. For a while, no less. We whacked on wights, complete with punnery reminding me of my dear Ashena, smacked down skeletons, and cut down cultists, with a bard singing away at our backs. Sure, I took a big fat ZAP from Aniril when intercepting several of their priests that came charging down on us, but at least it was me and not someone it would have killed outright...

    People took direction well, as I sort of took over Aniril's little trip, and down into the hole, to the crypts, we went. The warning was that I wouldn't be standing back any more, but if I got 'held' by those awful priests ... that they'd have to defend themselves, and get held I did. Several times.

    Juggs, the fat Dwarf, follower of the "mother" Berronar Truesilver, or something like that, may she be praised, artisan of the masterworked sandwich, and a damned treat to be around, saved my bacon several times in that trip, especially after things took a turn ... like when we encountered a small ARMY of zombies, luckily the kind that I can usually take down with a single swing, but I had to keep swinging to take down the fifty to a hundred at a time, to keep them off our back line.

    This led to us finding a mage down there, a woman who called herself "Gray", who said she was also investigating the cause for these little armies of dead popping up, as she said that their particular method of animation was neither arcane, NOR Divine ... but something OTHER. We didn't really trust her much, but with no direct evidence of treachery, I wasn't about to attack a possible citizen or ally. So on we went, deeper into the crypts, despite complaints of being out of spells, or diseased, or drained, which admittedly, Gray helped us with some potions for, and on we went.

    Cue more zombie army action. I think we faced three gigantic groups of them over the course of our trip, which I almost enjoy fighting, since you can find a rhythm with your enemies being destroyed in a strike, especially with a bard like Tom in the background, providing pacing and a beat to ... well, beat down baddies to.

    We wandered into a room, with a seemingly innocent lit brazier, that turned into three, that spawned shadows, that led to a fight, which created doors once the braziers were kicked over, which led to a trap, which turned out to be getting caught by a Mind Flayer, something i've never encoutnered before, that had apparently been sampling our minds, and we were in it's trap ... but Gray was there to shield our minds long enough to cause a distraction, in this case, Aniril's rapier, which gave us a moment.

    I used that moment to pop up, and knock that squidfaced bastard tentacles over teakettle, and we cut it down immediately after that. Thankfully, they're physically weak, or that would have went badly. We collected the belongings of some old victims apparently, and made our way back to the surface, where Juggs gave me a masterwork sandwich, I had the guards help us out with healing and taking the body to the Ceruleans for reporting and research, and I finally got a much needed bath in the lake. What a day.

    Now, I should go talk to Kathea, and some other mages, to make sure that I get some answers about the other half of this lance ... I'm not giving up now. It's just getting more and more interesting!


  • There are a few things that make me feel, well, more alive than anything else. One of them, is being surrounded by foes on all sides, fighting myself into a circle of corpses, and getting to step, or climb out of them, victorious.

    This time, I wandered into a war, small scale, more of a battle, but not to our foes, Im sure. The Dwarf Hold, 'holed' up in Sam's Hole, was apparently under attack. Some adventurers were apparently out and about in various caves, when others ended up stumbling upon them. My own entrance to their group was ... unexpected, to say the least.

    Someone had left a scroll in front of a citizen, and of ALL the people in Peltarch he could bring it to, this inquisitor was the one he did so to ... so I took a look, and by the time I got to the part about "Baleful Teleport" ... well, we got whisked away to underground. The citizen immediately whipped off his robe to reveal sneaking leathers, grabbed a pair of daggers, and went to go scout, saying to wait for him ... but after much waiting, he did not return.

    Awesome.

    We plodded through a very dark cave, where I felt in unfamiliar territory, when a rumble shook the place, and before long, goblins began pouring out of holes. And when I say goblins, I mean that our group of nearly 20 was grossly outnumbered, goblins swarming 10 or more to one, and clambering over us, each other, and the corpses of their fallen to scramble gibbering like madmen to plunge their crude little knives into soft adventurer flesh, and use their clubs to knock some adventurer noggins.

    Little did we know, that we were below the Dwarf Fortress at that point, and that this was an attack. A war. For us, the war was on. There was no time to think, or plan, just enough time to shout that somebody should check ahead for our way out, and the fight was on. I hewed limbs from little green corpses, one after the other, flat out CRUSHED any that charged foolishly too close to me, and cleaved my way through MANY at a time, as their numbers passed the hundred mark, and kept coming.

    There were a couple of brief pauses in the assult, in which we healed up the folks taking more of a beating than others, and I did my best to run back and forth to take the pressure off of others, but sooner or later, we were going to get overwhelmed, especially if more bombers and veterans poured in. The Elite fighters and Veterans were at least a match for some of the newer adventurers, and we were starting to risk losing some ... so I did the only think I could think to do.

    I ROARED.

    May the Lion keep my spirit as his, and my voice as his as well, for the goblins retreated at the sound, the very ground shook, and the adventurers looked on in shock as we gained a brief respite from the chaos. Thank you, Lion. That saved lives.

    We moved onward, only to discover where we really were, having to take out an animated statue, and sneak past a guard, and finally exited their keep to the delight of the dwarves on the wall, who informed us that an army was coming, whose other push we had thwarted already.

    Siege weapons (Cannons!) , debris for blockades, and surprisingly receptive adventurers made for a HELL of a war party, and we took on the waves of goblins handily, exploding the little green bastards whenever the cannon's firing crew had their aim together, and through the bard Talesin the Taleteller nearly bit it from the attentions of a caster or five ... we all made it out alive, much to the delight of the Dwarves we helped, and we were rewarded generously with a pack of potions and spellcrystals, and some gold.

    The citizen also reappeared ... captured by the Dwarves, as he had indeed gone scouting, and found their treasure room. He's fine,
    as they released him to me to send back to town, thankfully ... so I guess all's well that ends well.

    I don't know if the War of Sam's Hole and the Dwarf Fortress is going to end up in the books, but it was memorable for us, and I'm glad for that random citizen and his stupid cursed scroll, or I might not have been there. Now ... to go research what kind of spells I need someone to be able to cast to find the other half of this lance.