3. Water under the bridge: The Journal of Moon River

Water under the bridge: The Journal of Moon River


  • (OOC Long overdue)

    We left Oscura to make my first attempt at mining. I seemed like a lifetime ago since I last stood in the Kraken forge making blades and armor. I could almost smell the lightly sulfurous smell of burning coal, feel the heat on my face, hear the ringing of the hammer on the anvil and the rushing gasp of the bellows. Much of my skills had atrophied since then. It would be good to use them again, even if I had to relearn a few things.

    I knew the trail down through the Koa-Toa would not cause much trouble for me or him. How familiar it all seemed as we silently made our way down through the chasm, passing the rift. He asked nothing of me, and it made me feel comfortable and relaxed. My judgment, however, told me to watch my back. If he thought I was going to let my guard down for one second, then he was dead wrong and would be sorry for it. There was something about his character that felt too polished for the former mercenary he claims to be. Heavens knows I’ve tested and fought many of them over the years.

    We continued down the trail with ease, searching for the resources we needed, past the weak scaly warriors, through the gut bombs, and over the spell casters of the fish folk. At the end, by the deeper caverns, we found the tin vein we came to exploit. The mining didn’t take long.

    Much to our surprise, on our return, we encountered a heavily armed party under the leadership of Lord du Lorraine. They were searching for a group of insane Cyricists, supposedly hiding in the deeper caves. He offered us a small reward to be rid of them. Non-blooded Cyricists this close to the city are nothing but trouble he said.

    Du Lorraine was in his superfluitious intimidating manner pressing my companion to take on this assignment, and I was caught in the middle of it. What would I do? Leave him alone to carry out this task? From what I had seen so far, he would not last long if surrounded and trapped. Do I stay and risk any repercussions generated by such an endeavor ordered by an Oscuran Noble? Whom do I serve? The simple answer is, I serve no one, but I would certainly never leave a companion alone a task of such uncertainty.

    We entered the chaos of the deeper caves. Slaves and Cyricists kept running towards us, which left us little alternative other than to cut our way through. We cornered a woman back against a wall and tried to get some meaningful hints about what was going on, but all our inquiries and attempts at interrogation were greeted with maniacal laughter, leering grins, or unbridled hostility. Eventually, she threw herself at our blades.

    We crept our way along the damp stone walls of the lower caves, listening to the rhythmic chanting ahead of us. Eventually we came to a large chamber where a high priestess and her guards were preparing for some sort of dark ritual. We approached slowly, once again making the attempt at reasoning. We were met with scorn, arrogance and outright mockery.

    The two guards drew their weapons and came at us. I parried the first thrust and riposted to the guard’s chest. He slumped to the ground. I turned to see how my companion was doing when my vision swam and a voice in my head commanded me. Kill him now! The priestess was inside my head. My mind was her mind. My sword her sword. The desire for blood overwhelmed me. It would be so simple to cut him down. Simple and satisfying. I tried to force the voice from my head, but my blade seemed to have a life of its own. I slashed at his right shoulder, severing the muscle that held his sword arm up. It fell to his side. I laughed as he struggled to raise it, a look of surprise and betrayal etched into his face. I spun, smashing the edge of my shield into his mouth, knocking him back, opening his defense. I stepped in close, driving my sword to the hilt in his belly. I could feel his fading breath on my face as I let him slide off my blade. It felt so good. I could hear the voice in my head ringing with insane laughter.

    The priestess approached, still laughing. She drew a sacrificial dagger from an ornate scabbard at her waist. The voice in my head commanded me again. Lower your sword and shield. She closed the distance between us. Tilt your head… The voice in my mind stopped suddenly, I had somehow regained control of myself. She said something about using my blood to open a channel to the power contained in the Well of Souls as I lashed out at her in fury with my weapon. My first swing cut half her jaw from her face, silencing her voice with a gurgle. The backswing corrected my error and hacked the priestess’s head from her body in a spray of blood and bone chips.

    My companion was still breathing when I regained my composure. I felt ill. I tended to his wounds, and after a few potions he was ready to travel. I told him to return on his own. I did not want to be seen in association with any assignment from an Oscuran noble. I could see nothing good coming from that.

    A few days later I sought him out to question him about the report I knew he had to write. I asked him if he could possibly leave my name out of it. I figured my name had no relevance to it, only that there was a successful conclusion to the assignment. He looked at me confused and frustrated. He told me falsifying the report could be considered treason. Our discussion became somewhat tense and elevated, but I had to back down in the end. I realize now that not only did I show him disrespect, but I also let him know there was no trust between us. I should have known better, and in this case, it’s more then just paperwork.


  • Today I was given a gift and was told two lies.


  • (OOC this is an actual passage from Moons prior IG life that fits well with a brief IG moment she had this week in the gallery of Oscura)

    Dreams of the howl of war - The obelisk

    I am in the gallery in Oscura, The peace keeper stands silent by my side as I am studying the painting. For a brief moment I close my eyes…

    –----------------------------------------------------------

    I am watching a deer walking slowly to a stream, its ears twitch and small tail flick as it bends its neck towards the cool water. It watches the ripples for a moment as its lapping tongue breaks the surface.

    BOOM

    My whole body freezes in terror and the deer seems to shrink in a cowering stance. The vibration of the sound causing ripples to bounce from the edges of the stream. My heart races and the deer backs from the stream, we both finally seem to find our legs to bound away. As we do the ground continues to shake in a steady growing rhythm. My men follow close behind.

    BOOM, BOOM

    As we make way - over the trees and above, a ruined city, dark dragons fly ominously. Their great reptilian maws seem to spread wide in hideous grins as the noise becomes more fervent. They push through the air at blinding speeds, keeping their sharp eyes on the horizon and surrounding lands. Below a great black mass writhes within the ciy, a sea of black horned helms and spiked shoulders, a still tide of polished black armor. The moment comes and they erupt in one great roar, stomping a foot and banging shield with the flat of their blades. The Mass seems to elevate each time, and the very ground shakes from their efforts.

    BOOM, BOOM.. BOOM

    I am on the hill, my faithful and the legion by my side watching the never ending army holding their strength, and I know this is the end. In the distance I see a figure wearing a helm that bares a face of impenetrable darkness, a man who speaks to them as a leader, and a brother in her service.

    DEFEAT

    His arms spread wide his motions with the flare of a monarch, his body alive with the enchantment he prepared for this moment, and the moments to come. My wrecked body defeated on the ground, scattered to pieces impossible to mend. He leans over me and whispers.

    Lend me your soul.

    The dark knight raises his hands in prayer as I answer.

    The only sensation my soul now knows is terror, the incomprehensible terror brought on by ages of suffering in the hells for its mortal sins. So great is this fear that it radiates from it, striking the hearts of others nearby. With my soul as his companion, along with a blade in each hand, the dark knight knows no boundaries to cross the land towards the protected city

    END

    My soul is walking by him passing corpses, some fresh and many others not, we reach the Obelisk. The stench of waste and rot permeates the air, thickened by the ashen smoke of the incense. It is then that the dull red glow of the Obelisk begins to intensify, the radiated evil any living creature would feel signalling that the ultimate power is gained and my soul with it.

    gasps and chokes I suddenly sit up, I am struggling with my heaving breathing and pounding heart. It was only a dream I tell myself. It is completely dark around me… I turn to my side my hand franticly searching... but the bedside is empty and cold.. I quickly grab my robe and rush out to the dining room.

    I pray this time the window would be open and the cool air of the night would meet me with a reassuring embrace that I am alive, but there is only the solemn stillness of the night. The window is securely shut and through it I can see that the full moon is about. I turn my head and scan the room, but I see no subtle changes in the shadows - I am alone I had hoped not.


  • Cow Chaos

    All I wanted to do was get on the boat to Peltarch. One of those simple things people do every day. Not this time. It started with a farmer yelling and cursing at his escaped cows. Anyone who has ever spent time around cows knows that while individual animals can be very clever, as a group, they are one of the dumbest creatures that walks on four legs. This was a large group, and none of them thought to buy tickets for the boat they had suddenly decided they needed to board.

    Cows on deck, helping themselves to the stack of grain sacks piled along the rail. Cows on the loading ramp, some boarding, but one fighting its way back against the flow trying to debark. Cows knocking over tables on the docks. Cows rolling rum barrels back to their pasture. Cows rubbing against trees, making apples fall. Cows playing tag with each other. Cows, naturally, playing bingo. And one particularly curious bovine watching my every move. Udder cow chaos.

    Being the good natured person that I am, I set into helping the farmer round up his wayward cattle, or at least get them off the boat so the crew could swab the deck and we could be on our way. Make order out of chaos as it were.

    Enter Loc.

    I can’t help but think the situation has suddenly gotten worse. He walks straight through the beefy mob like they weren’t even there. I try to turn away before he notices me, but my green outfit must have stuck out in the sea of black and white, because he came right to me.

    “Stealing cows are we?””

    Here we go again, I thought, as I turned to face him.

    “No Loc, I…” The tail of the cow next to me went up in the air, and I stepped aside just in time. “I am not stealing cows. I ‘m trying to get them out of the way so folks can get on the boat.”

    “MOO! The curious cow interjects.

    “It’s not what I’m seeing,” bellows Loc, “I’m arresting you for stealing cows.”

    One of the barrels the cows were making off with broke apart, flooding the slip with rum, and washing gods only know what over my shoes.

    “Who would believe you?” I manage to get out in the sudden press of thirsty cattle.

    “They will!”

    The cow with the infatuation for me bounces her head up and down several times emphatically. “MOOOON!” Great, now the idiot has a witness.

    Loc steps closer, sniffing the air. “You’ve been drinking too.”

    I dodge the long pink tongue suddenly thrust in my direction. Curious Bessie seems to have developed an oral fixation. Her breath reeks of corn and rum.

    “For heavens sake, why are you doing this?”

    He grabs me by the arm and drags me through the herd in the direction of the Norwick jail. I can’t help but wonder. Is this the most important thing the Norwick militia has to do? Arrests that are baseless and false? No wonder everything in Norwick is falling apart. The whole thing is embarrassing, and should be for him too, since he has no proof whatsoever of my intentions. It’s all so silly. I am not worried.

    He drags me though Norwick, then the barracks and living quarters of the militia. The smell of sweat, dirt, and whatever else assails me as we enter. We continue down to the cells and the smell gets worse. The place is filthy and nasty. The smell is so overwhelming, I’m having trouble breathing. He stops in front of an open barred cell door. I gasp for air. Now I’m worried.

    “Loc! This is ridiculous! You’re going to leave me in THERE overnight?!? For what?!?”

    “Uhm… well.” He looks around like he’s trying find some way to help me out. His eyes come to rest on a moldy mop sitting in a bucket of grungy water. Much to my surprise, he releases the death grip on my arm, then grabs the mop and bucket and goes into the cell and starts mopping.

    I waste no time in kicking the door shut. The click of the lock is loud enough for us both to hear. At the sound of it, he looks up.

    Time to have a little fun with him.

    “Now I’ve got you exactly where I want you. Safely locked away behind bars.”

    His silent glare is priceless.

    I fold my arms with a satisfied grin on my face. For a brief moment I can see something in his face that can best be described as the look of an abandoned puppy dog. This was not what he expected.

    “Not to worry Loc, I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

    I’m not a mean person, not like he is, so I open my pack and take out a bottle of wine and some stalish bread and pass it to him through the bars. He slumps down along the wall, his overly eager and energetic composure wanes, and I can see a hint of disappointment enter his eyes. It moves me just enough that I decide to stay awhile. Well… actually, it gives me no small amount of satisfaction seeing this animal locked in, even if his pride is a little hurt.

    “If you promise to behave yourself, and stop coming down on women so hard, I’ll let you out.”

    To be honest, I haven’t the slightest clue how I’m going to do that. I don’t have the keys, and I haven’t seen any around.

    “We aren’t poisonous you know. We aren’t all harlots, or nuns, or controlling mothers. Not all of us are wicked with ulterior motives. We don’t all play games.”

    I sit outside the door thinking to myself I can give him one more chance to change the image I have of him. Loc starts telling me about his experiences with women. We shared the wine and bread and talked, It was safe enough this time with him securely locked away.

    Clearly he has had his heart broken several times, but still, I can’t help but wonder what woman would ever consider marrying him. Perhaps there is some physical attraction, but his mind just isn’t right. He’s reckless, insane, and even mean. I stay and talk for a while, but my eyes are getting tired, and I know it’s really late.

    “It’s getting late, I need to go.” I can’t help but grin. “I’ll let the guards know you’re locked in here. …In the morning.”

    His eyes sparkle with mischief, He stands, stretches casually, and pulls a set of keys from his pocket, dangling them in front of me with a happy grin.

    “Damn it Loc, why do you do this to me?”

    Not only has he made me furious this time, I’m beginning to associate the feeling with him. This time he actually hurt me. He wasted my time and my compassion just to satisfy his silly game.

    I walk out without another word.


  • I met him briefly about a month ago. We had a drink together and talked about the loss of my horses. I don’t recall exactly what happened, but I had to leave suddenly, although I would have liked to speak with him longer.

    When hobgoblins and their smaller kin assaulted the south gate this morning, he was there. There is a quality about a person with modest and natural leadership, an ability that draws my immediate attention. I believed we shared our frustrations this morning, as wave upon wave of goblins and hobgoblins, were cut down by the gate defenders, without any thought to capturing one for interrogation. Some people, it would seem, are only motivated by their lust for blood. It may be, that both he and I were hoping to learn more.

    The attacks last almost an hour, and after we returned through the shattered remains of the gate, he once again asked me to join him for a drink. My desire to know the man a little better piqued my interest, and I could not refuse the offer.

    As we took the long walk up the north road we chatted idly. Our leisurely stroll and casual conversation made me feel relaxed in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.

    After we arrived at the Coppers, we took our drinks over near the fire, letting the warmth and the soft crackling of the fire put us at ease. We swapped stories about the past. He was genuinely interested in my skills with a blade and my experiences over the years. I told him about my beloved Kraken Legion, and our battles with the Dark Alliance and the political intrigues of the Valors. In turn, he told me about his time in Chondath. He claimed that there was nothing besides war and trade there. I wondered aloud how on earth I could have missed such a place, and we both broke into heartfelt laughter.

    As it turned out, he had just recently been recruited into the Oscuran Peacekeepers. Somehow, that lead us to discussing my poorly furnished apartment at the Bottleneck. One thing we agreed one, despite the furniture, owning one’s own place did afford a small measure of privacy that one couldn‘t put a price on.

    He discussed his leader, Ferdinand Locke, and the rumors that suggested he had fallen somewhere and might never be seen again. My companion was disappointed, because he was awaiting an assignment from Locke, and it was starting to look like it would never come to fruition. It seemed like a good opening for me. I suggested he use some of his spare time to make inquires around Oscura about my stolen fortune and horses, or any other helpful information regarding them. I told him we could meet privately to discuss anything he discovered. He said he be more than willing to get regular reports to me. I offered to pay him for his services, but he gentlemanly refused, and no amount of my continued insisting would change his mind.

    After a few more glasses, we decided it was time to quit the Coppers and find something else to do. He suggested he show me around. I accepted and casually asked if he could show me the Keep. I might have mentioned it was the only fort in the region that I hadn’t gotten a look at. I wanted to cross it off of my list. All the talk of my old legion days seemed to be bringing out some forgone habits of mine. I couldn’t resist the chance to see something that maybe I shouldn’t. It’s surprising that such a simple thrill can feel so powerful.

    Much to my surprise, he took me there. I found myself mischievously thinking that it was all way too easy. We entered the first floor training arena, and I found myself disappointed. I’ve seen so many training grounds in my life that they just don’t catch my interest much anymore. He caught on to my mood quickly and suggested we should go upstairs.

    I followed him up the winding stone staircase to the second floor, entering what looked like a war room. It was obviously used for gathering intelligence and planning strategies. A map of the area was spread out across the table, with small markers denoting troop strengths and points of interest. Books and reports were strewn about the table. While he had his back turned to me discussing the artwork on the wall, I took the opportunity to study the map, and then casually flipped open a report or two.

    When his talking stopped suddenly, I knew he realized the mistake he made bringing me here. I could sense him swiftly coming up behind me. He closed the report gently, but I could see the fear and nervousness that had entered his eyes. He was worried. I told him I wouldn’t violate the trust he had so willingly shown me. I told him no one would ever know. An intimate little secret kept between the two of us. The concern was still etched in his face, so I gestured to the chamber and lightheartedly suggested that since he showed me his, I would show him mine… my apartment that is. His expression changed completely. We both laughed.

    We left the keep shortly after to continue out walk in Oscuras. It’s funny how time becomes a non-issue when spent in good company. I don’t really know how long we talked and traveled. He showed me the mines, and we discussed forging arms and armor, cutting gems, fashioning jewelry, and brewing potions. We spoke of slavery. He showed me the cemetery and a gallery filled with fabulous works of art. We spoke about everything and nothing.

    It all had a familiar feel to it. I kept finding myself going back to the Isle ten years ago. How odd was it the comfort I felt from the air of mutual understanding of values, integrity and good character I felt with this man. I’m not one to be fooled. My experience tells me to watch for yet another wolf that dresses in sheep’s clothing.

    Do I miss my homeland, or what is left of it? Is that knot in the pit of my stomach telling me I left something unfinished?

    It is, however, safe to say that this man intrigues me hopefully our paths will cross again soon.


  • Its early morning, I crawl out of my bed and grab the robe left on top of the dresser. I find it unusually chilly so I quickly slip it on. Half awake I stumble towards the common area and dining room, and as I open the door a sudden gust of wind meets me. I quickly see that the window is open. My senses jump to full alert:

    “Damn it” I whisper to myself the blade is by the door with the armor as I left it last night.

    With my back against the wall I slowly begin to work my way towards the kitchen. My eyes are fixed on the window, but something else catches my interest. There on the table is a lonely flower.


  • Madness

    I was sitting in the shade under a tree when Loc passed by. He called out to me and asked if I wanted to accompany him. I said yes and asked where he was going, but he kept on walking. Curiosity got the better of me because I hate being left in the dark, so I followed along behind him.

    I checked my bags and realized I was low on supplies for any sort of serious trip. I asked Loc to let me stop and get more, but he reassured me that he would take good care of me. At least, that’s what I thought he said. His strange dialect is hard for me to understand. I suspected year of inbreeding had lead to the odd dementia that seemed to take him from time to time. I had the slightest twinge then that this trip was going to go badly, but I was sure I could handle almost anything, so I tagged along.

    The sewers were simple enough. The recent heavy rains had washed away most of the effluvium, so the smell wasn’t as bad as. Loc kept a brisk pace through the sewer, dispatching skeletons and cultist as he went. I could see eyes watching us from the cross tunnels, but he just plowed ahead over my objections. He tossed me a few barbs about women lagging behind, and not being up to the task. There is no man I can’t keep up with, so I paced him in his headlong plunge into ruin.

    He kept yelling at me to watch for a hole in the ground. Selune protect me, the nut case was actually planning on going down there. He yelled something I didn’t understand and hopped down the opening. After his little quips, there was no way I was going to give him the chance to call me a coward by not going in with him. We slid through the hole in the sewer, down to the dank mustiness of the barrows, landing in a pool of mud at the bottom of the slope. Seems some of the rain water had made it into the ancient catacombs, leaving a goopy sticky mess that clung to one’s boots in weighty gobs behind.

    We slogged our way down one of the passages encountering some small resistance from wights at an intersection along the way, my blade making short work of them. We turned right afterwards. Loc kept trudging along, take a turn here and a turn there. I was getting curious where he was taking us. He started back in on women again, and how poisonous they were. I bit my lip for a while and let him rant, before I finally had enough and asked him why he brought me down here when he could have picked any able bodied man to accompany him. I was beginning to think he brought me down here and surrounded me with undead just so he could have a captive woman audience to berate. It was making me furious.

    At the next intersection he stopped and looked around. “I wonder what’s down this way?” he said, before picking a side passage to follow. It was at that point, I realized he had no clue where he was going, and I was along for his insane little ride, whether I wanted to be or not. I wished I had paid more attention to where we had gone, not that I wasn’t completely turned around by being underground in this twisted warren of tunnels.

    We traveled a little farther arguing with each other, and then rounded the corner. The cultists knew these tunnels. They had gathered up their forces and gotten ahead of us. We rounded the corner and they were lined up waiting for us. The reek of ghouls assailed my nose. There had to be dozens of them. Wights squeezed in behind them, cultist war priests behind them. A small army. There were just too many.

    Loc and I held firm as the wave of rotting foulness swept over us. I focused on the ghouls at first, I knew what their touch could do. They were hungry for human flesh and I felt like an item on the menu. I begged for Selune to help us, to save us from this roiling mass of undeath. All I could hear in my ears was dark female laughter. Hands clawed at me as I hacked away, my arms and legs going numb where they touched me. I bled profusely, and that only drove them into a frenzy of hunger. My potions disappeared fast. I remember one ghoul crawling across the ground, gnawing on the steel of my grieves. A wight reached out and found a spot of bare skin. I could feel it tearing at my very being, draining the essence of who I am, draining me until I became one of them. I fought with all the desperation I could muster.

    Loc was fighting for his life too. Suddenly he yelled “LEGGIT!” and disappeared down the hall, leaving me alone. I battered a way out of the mob myself, and took off down the tunnel after him, but he was nowhere in sight. I had no idea which way to go. I took the first turn I could find, hoping the spawn of the nine hells would miss me in the darkness. I ran, and ran, not taking the time to look back to see if they were still with me. The blood pounded in my head, my ears were ringing, my legs were exhausted. I pushed myself as hard as I could, until I slipped on the mud and collapsed, unable to raise to my feet again. The warrens were still. I tried to slow down my breathing before the harsh sucking sound of me trying to catch my breath alerted them to my location.

    I mutter another prayer to Selune, for what little good it does me. Where the hell is Loc? The crazy bastard left me to die. I know it wouldn’t take long for them to find me. I swear I can hear a woman laughing in my head. Selune hasn’t found me, but her dark sister has.

    The ghoul creeps in while my emotions are running wild, hunched over, quiet, sniffing at the ground as if following a blood trail. I don’t see it until it’s on top of me. The smell of it’s rancid breath on my face alerts me to turn my head. I’m face to face with it. Its green skin is taunt and moldy, thin patches of hair cover it in odd places, a long black tongue hangs from it’s mouth, its eyes are the color of frozen meat…

    I slam the hilt of my sword into its face then fight to my feet to run again. I’ve stiffened up in the few moments of rest I had. The ghoul reaches out and grabs my left ankle. My whole leg goes numb. I hack desperately at its elbow with my blade, and then stumble down the hall, dragging the arm with me while the rest of the ghoul remains behind.

    I’m too slow to get away from them now. Where is that way out? Where?!? I hobble along as best I can on one good leg, I can hear cultists shouting “find her!” from not far away. In desperation I push myself harder, willing myself down the dark tunnel.

    I can do nothing more than lean on my sword awaiting for the end to come. I don’t have to wait long. The hand grabs the back of my collar and half pulls, half drags me down yet another side passage. My attempt at resistance is feeble and amounts to nothing. I’m slammed up against the wall near a doorway. Everything goes black for a moment. When my senses return, Loc is kneeling down working at the door with a set of picks.

    “We go this way.“ he says smiling. The son of a bitch is actually smiling at me! I think maybe, just maybe I have enough strength to run him through right here and now.

    He gets the door open and pulls me inside, locking it behind us. We’re in a crypt of some sort. By the fancy stonework and chiseled sculptures, I would guess it was the final resting place of some minor noble, if anything down here ever truly rests.

    “I want to have a look around.” Loc casually states. I swear I’m going to kill him.

    I get my blade up enough to point it at his heart. “You do not move one bit.”

    “We need to rest.” He says it like he’s just come up with some great plan. I watch incredulously as he takes off his armor and cloths. Great, just what I need. Stuck under ground with no way out, with hundreds of cultists and legions of undead, and this lunatic suddenly decides to get naked. What did I do to deserve this? I can hear that laughter ringing in my ears again. Exhaustion takes me and my blade clatters to the ground.

    I pray to Selune again, but get no answer. I feel completely forsaken.

    Loc gets up from his brief nap and walks towards me. “Let me help you.”

    “You stay the hell away from me.” I’m out of supplies, energy, and patience.

    “I should look around” He’s inching his way out all ready.

    “Go then.”

    The rest didn’t do me much good. Every inch of my body is in pain. A can barely lift my blade or put one foot in front of the other, but I know if we don’t get moving we’ll never get out. I struggle to my feet with every last ounce of will I have. The world spins, then settles into slow motion fuzziness.

    Loc finds a door to another crypt… We wander empty halls… Another door… Sewers… I hear creatures gathering ahead of us… Loc is quiet, which is good, because he better stay quiet, or else… A door leading into the morgue… The feel of wooden floor against my cheek… Loc dancing… Picking me up to dance with him… Clarity comes back to the moment

    “PUT ME DOWN AND DON’T EVER TOUCH ME AGAIN!” My voice is cold and deadly. He scampers off. I don’t care where to.

    I virtually drag myself to the Inn. Loc is standing there with a smile and a pouch of gold. He gives me 300 coins and tells me to see a cleric. I’ve known for a while now he’s completely insane, but he’s obviously really mean too, tt will take weeks and far more than 300 gold to recover from this. I’d like to throw it back at him, but I’m going to need it.


  • A moan escapes from my lips as I collapse down on my knees. I feel the weight of the helm causing my head to loll. Fumbling with the clasps, I reach up and grab a horn of the helm and slide it off my head. I roll my jaw and spit to the side, “GAH, is more blood than spit! I look down, many of my wounds are still very much open.

    Pain explodes in several places as I lean up. My heart is calming and my body is becoming increasingly aware of its current state. I remove the hand that is favouring one of the deeper gashes and grit my teeth as I force my self up, quickly. I wipe my chin and reach for one of my many packs; this is the one I have prepared.

    I bind the wounds well enough I no longer am spilling blood as bad. I drag myself to bed and crawls on top of it.. and my thoughts wander to the cave:

    “A divine intervention Iathouz said to me, what can I say.”

    Perhaps it was meant to be, his mistress lady of loss is back. He laid there by my feet in the cave; and she had appeared to grant him the favour of life.

    But, when I think of it, maybe this wasnt for him but for me? Maybe it wasn’t Selune that brought me back eight years ago, how could she possibly want me go through this much pain again, and again, and again. To prove what?

    BUT… If the mistress is in fact playing games and using Iathouz as a pawn, she will loose this time. Because, this time I will turn my back and walk away.

    I will not make anymore sacrifices, not for anyone, ever again. The lady of darkness will not be victorious, I will be in the loss of faith.

    I had thought his soul was mine, but it is time to cut him loose and leave before this disease can spread any further.

    I will speak to Nahaska and Pherdur. I will pack my things and leave a note with Kat at the Inn for Mystic, I need her now. Together we can find a new direction and home.

    I close my eyes to embrace the pain, I let it consume me and from that I will grow stronger.


  • (another reunion)

    I entered the Inn after a long and trying day, hoping to get a good hot meal and maybe relax near the fire. I could feel the warmth when I walked through the door of the tavern. The inn was moderately busy, with two couples having a conversation on the couch, a group of hard bitten looking men playing cards, and several diners enjoying food and drink at the tables. I could see there was still a seat left at the bar, right next to… my sister.

    I stepped off to the side of the door into the shadows. I hadn’t seen her in a long time, and I wanted to get a good look at her before she spotted me. To say she is pretty would be an understatement of the worst sort. Her fair hair practically glowed in the muted light cast by the lamps hanging over the bar, framing her softly sculpted face. She’s always had a figure that turned men’s heads, but now she seemed to have added a level of maturity that I hadn’t seen in her before. I admit, sometimes I’m jealous of how she looks. Being the oldest, I spent my youth working hard to take care of our farm and our family, especially after our mother died. It made me a stronger and more self-reliant woman, but at the price of leaving me hardened and rough around the edges. I didn’t have the time to focus on being pretty. There was too much work to be done.

    She was sitting with her back to the bar, intently watching the men playing cards. She held a half full wine glass in her hand. She seemed calmer then I remembered. Eased and relaxed, without the restlessness and obsessive mannerisms that marked her in her youth, although I could see her hand quivering with strain of controlling the sorcerous talent that she had hidden for a great many years.

    I took a deep breath and let it out slow. There have been times in the past that we haven’t gotten along. I can’t help but wonder if this is going to be another one of them.

    “Mystic! There you are!” I called from across room.

    She looked up a me and smiled, her soft brown eyes twinkled with promised mischief.

    “Moon! You’re alive!”

    She hopped off her stool and bounded over towards me, then tripped, spilling wine all over one of the card players in what looked more like an attempt at drama then a genuine accident. The man flew out of the chair, murder in his eyes. I closed the distance quickly to intercept him, but Mystic disarmed him with a smile that turned him into an apologetic fool, then cut him off, all without saying a word.

    We hugged, then exchanged kisses. We both knew what a charade it really was. I don’t expect her to be thankful for all the things I’ve done for her over the years, but I wouldn’t mind if she’d just show me a little respect. I hugged her dearly though, she is, after all, my sister.

    “Come sit with me.” She practically dragged me over to the bar, then ordered the best wine in the house, like she thought it was going to impress me. I don’t need to see her soft hands or the immaculate white outfit she was wearing to know she’s never worked a day in her life.

    “Where did you find the coin for this?” I ask casually, as I sipped from my glass. It was a vintage I particularly liked. Her tastes had certainly matured.

    She ignored my question. I guess I shouldn’t have expected too much. I watched as she drank from her glass, reveling in her defiance.

    “Have you seen Pherdur, Nahaska, or…” she paused for dramatic effect, “Iathouz.”

    It had been a trying couple of weeks. I was overjoyed to see Pherdur and Nahaska. With them it is like time has never changed. They are what they have always been. Steady, reliable, dependable. With Iathouz… things are… complicated. The lost time weighs heavy on both of us. We never seem to get the chance to be alone, to work out the things we need to work out. I just wasn’t prepared for him to walk back into my life.

    “Yes, I have.” I looked her straight in the eyes. “What are you doing here?”

    She picked up her glass in a mock toast. It was the wrong move. I glared at her briefly, trying to get her to take my questions seriously for a change. Her expression changed from sly levity to wounded pride.

    “The same as you I presume. I’ve been looking for those horses. I was devastated, torn, out of my senses when I thought you and father Jonas were dead. He told me to run… and I did. …and I didn’t look back. I’m so sorry Moon.”

    I found myself touched by the moment. I remember that night. I closed my eyes. I could still see the dark helmed figure with the red glowing eyes standing there. Powerful. In charge. Dominating. His all too familiar voice echoed in my head. “Little Vixen…” I suddenly found myself wondering what she really knew about that night.

    “I’m sure you are. I don’t know if it was the Rose, or the Free fires. You wouldn’t know, would you?”

    I disregarded the label of the very fine wine we were drinking and swallowed the rest in one swift shot to cover the conflicts I was feeling inside myself. I gestured to Kat to refill the glass. Mystic turned away, anger building in her. I saw small blue sparks escape from between the fingers of her clenched right hand. Again, no answer.

    “Well as long as we are both here,” I continue, “lets make the effort to see if we can find anything out about where the horses have been taken, or at least find out who profited from such a valuable treasure. I‘ve rented an apartment down by the docks, you are welcome to stay there with me if you like.”

    “Wonderful!” She replied.

    “Well it isn’t much, but at least I can keep an eye on you.”

    “You don’t need your privacy then?” I didn’t much care for the almost sneering way she said it. She’s gone a little too far this time.

    “No Mystic, I do not. And there is another thing… I want you to promise me one thing. Promise me you wouldn’t trick Pherdur into another one of your childish games. You and I made a deal… Pherdur is like a brother to me, and if you put his life in any danger again…”

    I had to stop when I saw the tears flow down her face from those deep brown eyes of hers. I didn’t expect it. Maybe she did care for him more then she let on. I reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

    “Come Mystic, lets head to the docks and I’ll show you the apartment.”


  • (as a response to Ghost of the Willows Iathouz last insert in his journal)

    I watched the lightning off in the distance rip into the night sky. While the distant thunder made the horses restless, I love a good storm. I held my breath for a while, waiting. I exhaled as a sudden gust of wind hit the stable and the sky opened up, the rain racing across the roof like a stampede. I was tired, and a sudden jolt of pain reminded me how sore and aching my muscles were from the day.

    I left the window and moved to my bed in the hay. The rhythmic sounds of the rain on the roof lulled me to sleep…

    The sharp crack of thunder brought me awake. I was not alone in the room. A bolt of lightning illuminates the stable. I saw a dark figure standing at the foot of the bed, blades drawn. My breath caught in my chest giving me away. He stepped back slightly, putting himself in the only faint light coming in from the window. His light hair stands out against the black. He is not a stranger to me, although I’ve seen him only in my dreams in recent times. He freezes in place when I speak.

    “My Night Shade Whisperer.” I’ve caught him off guard. “I knew it was you.” His reply both is and isn’t what I expect.

    “Where were we when I first told you I loved you?” There was a cold, sharp edge to his voice that I didn’t like, yet something more. I know him well enough to tell he thinks he’s being clever. I also know how sentimental he can be, and it made me laugh at the absurdity of it all.

    “Now you’re being silly”

    I felt the blades move in the darkness. He’d taken to a guard position. I didn’t need to see it, but I knew the big blade was pointed at my chest. He’s a fair fencer. The sudden chill as the cold steel drew the heat from the air not only told me how close it was, but also made me aware my robe wasn’t covering as much as it should. The lightning struck again, and he turned the blade enough for it’s reflection to catch my eyes. Showmanship. Always the drama with him.

    “Answer the question.” His voice had a deadly tone. He was serious. Could he really believe it wasn’t me?

    It was a day of lessons. He was teaching me a few things from his world. We were tracking orcs in some less then pleasant surroundings. We had paused for a moment, and I had confided that his behavior confused me. I still carry part of his response with me: …can’t you understand, that right now, the happiest man in the world is standing in a…

    “Very well. We were in the sewers. You were teaching me how to stalk.” He may be the only man in the world who gets sentimental over storm drains.

    There was a loud bang in the loft as he tossed his blades to the side. The tension left him and he sank to his knees on the edge of the bed.

    My turn.

    I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him closer. I felt him take a deep breath. He had tons of questions no doubt. I wasn’t going to answer any just yet. I placed my finger over his lips and he got the idea.

    “No more questions tonight.”

    I leaned back in bed and he followed, the buckles of his armor poking into my skin. Not acceptable. He kissed me like a man headed to the gallows as I ran my hand down his chest and across the row of complex buckles holding everything in place. My right hand found its way caressingly down his arm to the sheath I knew would be there. The knife came out with a metallic click.

    “You don’t need this,” I said, with mock anger as I put it up to his cheek. I might have misjudged the distance in the dark a little. I think I nicked him. He didn‘t seem to mind. We’d both have marks before the night was over.

    I pulled his arm in and kicked my leg over him, dumping him on his back as I rolled up on top. He didn’t even pretend to resist. I ran the knife down his chest to the straps with the sharp buckles, my robe sliding off my shoulders as I went. One quick cut and the straps were severed. I tossed the knife away casually.

    The storm outside was completely forgotten.

    Sunlight searched its way in over the dusty loft, tickling my face. He was gone when I woke up, almost like he had never been there. Could it all have been a wishful dream on my part? All that remains is my memory of the senses.


  • After the long relaxing soak in the bath, the cool air in the foyer of the Peltarch Spa hit Moon like a cold arctic breeze. It sharpened her mind and her senses even as it made her skin prickle. She braced herself for the even frostier air outside.

    “Oh! Miss Moon!” The voice behind her was Selula the spa’s attendant. “Wait a moment. Someone left this for you.”

    Moon turned to see Selula holding out a sealed envelope. She walked over and gingerly took it from her hand. “Who gave this to you?”

    “One of the local merchants.”

    Moon felt the tension drain from her shoulders. Odd, she thought, she hadn’t realized it was there. Turning back to the door, she opened the envelope as she walked. It contained a piece of quality parchment. She unfolded it, noticing immediately the fine penmanship on the page. Someone had spent a lot of time carefully writing it.

    She started reading what looked like a contractual agreement.

    –-------------------

    I, Alexi Shivarn, do promise to donate mass amounts of coin to Lady Moon River, in the amount of at the minimum, half the cost it will take to start up a horse business. In return we shall be partners in the business of at least equal share even if I donate more coin.

    In the event I do not have the said coin at time of purchase I will continue to make payments to her till said coin allotment is achieved and then we will both drink a bottle of syrup and maybe some sugar too with a glass of tea.

    Oh, and I shall not be asked to shovel animal poop regularly, and if she takes a lover and has children.... umm I get to spoil them.

    Lady Moon can not flash me with said womanly cleavage in order to get revenge on me.

    Should a profit occur in said business Lady Moon may decide to give me part of the income if she chooses, however, it can not exceed her share of the income.

    Also as least once a year Lady Moon should offer a hug to Alexi Shivarn, as well to allow him to sell wares in the vicinity of the business.

    There is a spot at the bottom left for both of their signatures. A brief footnote about amendments pending the approval of both parties followed. At the bottom of the page was a stamp of a crested shield bearing a cow helm with two crossed staves behind it.

    She folded it neatly. A smile spread across her lips as she slipped the agreement into the inside pocket of her jacket…

    "YES!"

    She opened the door and hurried out to the commons…


  • As I stand watching the execution of Vladimir Kursk, I cannot help but think he has become a martyr. I know very little about the charges brought against him, and even less about what passes for fair trial and justice here in the lands of Narfell. I am convinced however, that this will have repercussions among those that stand in witness, for better or worse. I will not, however, interfere in this, just observe and make my own way with caution.

    As the crowd murmurs and presses in to see this poor man’s spectacle of justice, I feel sick. It wasn’t helping that I was trapped between the hard stone wall of the commons and the gathering mob behind me.

    A voice from behind me whispers, so close it tickles my ear, sending a sharp chill racing down my spine. It is like someone has stepped over my grave. “Do not turn.” I could feel a folded piece of cloth pressing into my hand. “Open it tonight. When you’re alone.” He vanishes into the crowd.

    I study the folded cloth carefully when I return to the stable. I turn it over and around. There is no clasp, no secret mechanism. I feel no enchantment on it. It’s just a simple swatch of blue cloth folded over what feels like a piece of paper. I can easily open it and read the note inside.

    Only I don’t know that I want to.

    My past wears me down as I am chained to a pair of golden shackles. It is time for me to choose. Time for me to choose which world I should stay in, the present, or the past.

    I pass the folded cloth, unread, to Draheem when I see him, asking him to keep it until I am ready. He seems confused, but accepts it with only a few questions.

    I feel tired, ill, and worn out.

    –- A brief scribble

    Another joy to me! My precious Pherdur Kelm of the Valors stepped down off the boat at Peltarch, much to my surprise. He, like Nahaska before him, has come to talk to me, urging that I return… although I spend so much time showing him around that we don’t get the chance to discuss it.

    It didn’t take him long to ask about my sister Mystic. It was with a heavy heart that I brought him the news that I lost her. If he decides to stay for awhile, perhaps he can help me find the horses, and maybe find her in the process…


  • It’s late in Peltarch and I’m tired. The thought of the long trip back to the stables in Norwick just doesn’t seem like a good idea tonight. One night in the Inn… A real bed, no animals moving about… I can afford one night…

    I can hear voices on the edges of my consciousness, fading as I drift off to sleep…

    Nahaska leads me through a forest to darkened glade. I follow him as he urges me on. So strange to see him in torn robes and unshaven, he is usually so neat and proper. As we walk a transformation takes him, years seem to fall off with every step. Gone is the beard and unkempt hair. He cuts a dashing figure in the new robes of blue and gold, full of youth and vigor. It is the Nahaska of years gone past. The Nahaska of my memories.

    A dull fire burns in the darkened glade. I can hear the coals crackle, smell the smoke. Warmth. Comfort. My old comrades stand about the fire. Pherdur, in his red and silver. Not one of our company, but one of us all the same. Red Lion, stout of body and strong of heart. A thunderer. Naphier, a good man, lost to us during the war. Iathouz is there too, sitting near the fire, apart from the others. He’s saved a space for me next to him.

    I sit down. He looks gaunt, and the color drains from his face as I watch him. His brow holds the troubled look I’ve seen so many times. I long to see his smile again. I see a tear fall from his eye, reflecting the dull red glow of the fire. Has it been so long?

    He whispers to me, sadness in his voice. “You’re dreaming.”

    Am I, I wonder? He seems so real, so near. I reach out to wipe the tear running down his face, but he is gone. I close my eyes. I can feel him there, in the room. In my ears I can hear his voice, gentle, but choked with emotion. “Rest well my love.”


  • I have been running for years, the phoenix carried me away just to experience the tragic of the loss of my family. My thoughts were that this was another of Ar and the Rose’s tricks. For months I searched and reached the furthest North I had ever been… but for what… this region seemed on the verge of war…

    I ended up in the city of Peltarch… and there a man named Aelthas took pity on me and asked me to join the Defenders… my hunger and need for shelter was consuming me, yet I had sworn to myself I’d never be a pawn in politics again… If he only had known, that I myself, had led and ruled a legion of balance between the dark and light, as the protector of men and women, not the protector of ultimate power. If had known, he would never have thrown me the pouch of gold to apply for citizenship and become a recruit.

    I am carrying the color of “valor”, it is simply just another shade. I am weak and I am broken.. It’s for the best, that I will return the helmet and blade that was handed to me by Aelthas. I will let this land rule it’s own destiny, and I mine.

    Little can I do, which is difficult for me. I seek no attention… and the other day… I saw a gate close behind me… but no one was there when I turned. Some times I feel I’m being watched… a shadow on the edge of my vision. How I wished my counselor Nahaska was by my side, the oracle of solution…

    … a brief scribble

    Finally, I met with Aelthas to tell him that I am leaving my position as new recruit. Now, he didn’t think much of it… He told me people come and go. “It’s all right,” he said… “It’s all right.” Then he parted… I guess I wasn’t too much value for him after all, just another pawn in yet another struggle of power…

    … another entry

    My wish came true as a tall, slender figure, Nahaska Wendell, still wearing my region’s legion colors stumbled off the boat today… the royal blue and gold trimmed robe was torn and dirty, as if he had been wearing it for months. His eyes mirrored pain and hard times, but still he kept his, as I am familiar with it, aura of hope and resolution. I was surprised he found me after all these years; he said he heard whisperings of my whereabouts in the chambers of the Arcane Tower.

    It was all very strange… he had come to asked me to return to my people… I didn’t know what to answer… what could I answer… after all these years? Instead I took him to the Inn at Norwick, saw to it that he got cleaned up, and found him a room to rest.

    The next day I told him I had much to show him, and I presented to him the desert man, Draheem, my closest friend, who I like a great deal. Never does Draheem ask anything from me, but he is there by my side if needed. Diplomatic, thoughtful, and a shoulder to lean on… As the day passed we ventured south, and, with Draheem, I showed Nahaska the pretty and friendly Silver Valley and the goblin lands. I saw that the excursion quickly became tiresome and it was obviously a great effort for Nahaska. A journey up north had to wait.

    We returned to the Inn and, at dinner, I told him about the new friends I have made such as Elsbeth, Helena, Arlan, young Zach, Bartho and finally I told him about Ael’Que, at which he looked upon me in silence…

    …I do not know yet if Nahaska will stay, or return to my old land..