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

The Long Walk, a Black Lion's Tale.


  • _Strange things.

    In the past three days, I have had the following things happen.

    I was given a Valkurian Captain sword, a greatsword to be exact, by Ardent. She is grateful for me 'saving' her more than words can apparently relay… so she gets me things. Granted, I don't mind this at all, but I still feel kind of guilty accepting gifts, especially for something I would have done anyway. I told her so, but she would have none of it. That's Ardent for ya. Hell of a gal.

    I had something called a Krenshar show up at the south gate... making little Rawring noises. The woodsy folks said don't kill it, so I tries to shoo it off instead, and it Rawred at me. Well, I rawred back, which made it look at me, blink, then roll over on it's back with all four feet in the air.

    Ras said to pet it.

    I did.

    It was soft!

    I don't know what I was expecting. For a creature with an inside-out looking face, and big sharp fangs, and you know, being a monster, it was very cute and friendly. Apparently we bonded, it even nuzzled my face with it's own, before leaving.

    Still not sure how I feel about that bit, it -was- pretty strange looking. At least, I would tell Ras that. I actually loved every minute of it. I wonder if that's what being a woodsman is like?

    The Alchemist returned, and spoke to me about Norwick, wanting to know when we were gonna get Fendon, and seemed upset that we seemed to be flagging.

    Apparently, the bugbears trying to wipe us out and wear us for hats was more along the lines of a "Personal Problem" to him ... until it was pointed out that if they do succeed, POOF. No more allies for the Alchemist.

    He left me saying that we shall have allies against any threat, until the time comes when we actually face Fendon. Ok, that's not too bad, we should probably get someone to make us a plan.

    Ashena also won second place in a tournament! She won some throwing knives and some wine... which was apparently magical.

    We're now taking picnics in full armor.

    I think we were also caught outside the Norwick gate... as we had an audience when I opened my eyes. Well... it's not all bad. I don't mind that much at all, actually. I hope she's not too embarassed.

    We just cleared out the goblin hold, and I think I've written enough for now. Perhaps I'll head to Peltarch, and see if Ashena is about yet._


  • _Now I remember why I don't do Fight Nights. Sore all over!

    Or maybe it was the stabbings Marty gave me… other Marty, that is.

    The past week has been a mess. We almost got Marty, and as I'm about to return to my post at the gates, I'm stuck wondering what I could have done differently to get her for good. Poor Senator Marty was nearly attacked within the gates, and I had to pull some folks away from her, who were eager for a little payback.

    Perhaps she should stay North for a bit.

    Speaking of North... it has been some many moons since I heard from the Lion. There was a time a couple years ago that I had dreams of him, and even fought beside him after waking. Still the little goblin rune glows on my axe, but no others have joined it.

    Is my quest complete?

    I have seen many strange and new things here, and realize that I may not grow in skill if I do not try to, so I shall try to seek new skills and experiences. Perhaps I should prepare myself like I did that first time, at my trials. I will spirit walk to where the Lion may await, and see what task he has for me. I hope to find him.

    I do not want to be done. I feel there is more out there for me. I know it._


  • _Fight night.

    At least it was not "War with Bugbears" night this time… but man am I bad at fight night games. First round disqualification every time. Perhaps I just don't put enough effort into it when my life isn't on the line? Who knows... but things went back to 'normal' afterwards.

    Marty, -other- Marty that is, apparently attacked people near the inn, and we spent a while searching for her, with no luck. She's uncannily fast. All the time. I don't get it... but I nearly did get -her- with some help at the gates. Almost.

    Then the demons. So many demons. Hordes of dretches, quasits, and the like bombarded us, and we killed them all, along with these winged horror things. What a mess.

    The the Vrock.

    Ashena said something about them, but I didn't get to know what it was until -after- I killed it. Ashena would be proud, I think.

    Ashena. I am proud of -her-. She was knighted, and I got to be there in the outfit Ardent helped me make. She loved it, and the cermony itself was quite the thing to behold.

    She had a meeting, afterwards, with the other members of her order, and I waited downstairs for her. Her brother had made comment about needing to speak to me, and needing to remember everything about myself that I could, because he would be interviewing me. An interview, about marrying his sister. Ashena.

    I had not even asked her such!

    I admit, I sat and fretted for a while. What was I supposed to do? Luckily, Ama'Bael (I think I got that right, elven names are tricky!) came by, and talked to me for a bit. Her Goddess, Hanali, has surely blessed her. She spoke to me, let me borrow a necklace, and gave me some advice... which led me to take Ashena dancing after she came down, in the Amethyst Festhall.

    It was perfect. Everything was. I can't even write it all down just yet, since I should get back to the gates, but it was so perfect, the musicians even seemed impressed!

    Now to write my reports, and get back to work._


  • _I wrote my story, now I have to add more. I think.

    My wrist is oddly tired. Would an axe not tire it more? Writing is a chore, but the words of Val and others make me think. Mostly about Ashena, and my friends.

    Many die. Some don't return. Bugbears threaten to overrun my home, and I will leave little behind. Maybe this will count as -something-. One of the Hunters back home carried his father's spear, who got it from his father, and his father before him. They are remembered. I think I would like to be remembered, should I fall and the Black Lion lead me to another place away from here.

    For now, I will think on life instead, I think.

    Walking through Jiyyd made me think. Will Norwick look like that from the battles against the Bugbears? If they are going to win, and take it, will we burn it behind us?

    I think I will die if they take the town. Not by choice. I am much more useful alive. Trying to get my friends, even the strangers I don't know, to follow orders and retreat when the fight is lost though, will probably kill me. I have to try though, right?

    I still remembering hearing human and elf screams louder than the falling bugbears, when we lost all three gates that day. They were louder than my own yelling to retreat apparently, because few if any, heeded me. No, rather than move, they watched the greatest among them fall.

    Maythor fell, and I have no seen him since. I hope he returned, but I haven't been told.

    It took that, for people to realize we were overmatched.

    I'm no genius, but I at least know when to run. Do I need shiny armor and a magic sword to get people to follow me? If so, I'm halfway there. Will it help?

    The sun is going down, and it's getting hard to read what I write. Back to Norwick. If someone finds this on my body, please let those who knew me not to mourn, but to fight harder for me, and bleed less than me. The Black Lion will watch over them in my place._


  • Wind whipped at his hair, and threatened to blow the pages right out of the book he had carried for a few days, already bloodstained and a little battered, and then calmed, letting him lay in the grass between those two great statues looking out over what was left of Jiyyd.

    Albryanna had already went back to Norwick, back "home," he reminded himself, and he had stayed to rest up after the trek through the destroyed city, and the undead-filled lands beyond. It was then that he finally decided to put that coal-pencil to paper, and nodded to himself remembering what someone has said. Something about leaving something behind for others.

    People wanted to hear his story, and he had shared it with but one, his Ashena. Perhaps the telling would make it easier to remember, and not so heavy on his heart? Surely a page was a place to start.

    Was it wise to try to put such a long story to page when he wasn't really that good at writing yet? Hah, leave wise to the Druids and Priests. He was -smart-, and surely the smart thing to do was to record it. Val would approve too, he figured.

    The sound of the coal pencil and the occasional muffled swear joined the sound of the wind, and the silence of the statues atop Heroes Bluff for an afternoon, and the following was written.

    _"The time has come. Follow me Longarrow."

    The young barbarian did as he was told, the freshly inked tattoos still shiny on his flesh. He hardly bled from them, and for that he was proud of himself.
    On each arm, artistically simple designs of several different animals chased one another in a circle about his bicep. Predominant above all other figures, the darkest inked, the most defined lines used, is a Black Lion.

    Black Lion, Black Raven, Blue Bear, Elk, Gray Wolf, Great worm, Griffon, Red Tiger, Sky Pony, Tree Ghost, and Thunderbeast. All in a circle about his bicep.

    "Remember your spirit. Remember it's virtues, and it's vices, it's weaknesses. For they are yours. Feed the virtues, and cull the vices like weaklings from your herd! The time to meet your spirit awaits you. This is your trial young one, go forth, and become a man! "

    The tribe-leader, the chief, had spoken, and as he stepped out of the tent, the village raised a cheer for him, a chanting, foot-stomping cheer that turned rhythmic. He acknowledged them with a savage war-cry, and lifted high his mighty bow and axe, these would be the weapons of his trial, and his Manhood.

    Thus far, he had been named Longarrow. He was tall at birth, and standing long before most children of his age. His arms grew long before the rest of him caught up in his pre-teen years, and he could not use the bows the other children used, as the arrows were pulled past the bow itself when he drew. Thus, the name Longarrow was given as a childhood name.

    He sought to become an adult now… to add a first name to his fullname, to find the true name he would grow into. This was the day of his test, and hopefully, his ascent to manhood. The crowd quieted in a hush, and the Elder stepped past Longarrow, walking a number of paces and stopping before him.

    "Of the turns of the seasons have passed, so have you grown among your tribe to be a fine hunter. You will prove your worth as such now, and become more. You must become a warrior, and a protector of your people. A Lion's virtues are strength, cunning, and guarding one's family! Their weakness is their pride, their impatience. They are prone to fighting each other for power and position, like children over a toy. "

    "You must overcome this if you are to become a man. Face your trials, and defeat them... or seek elsewhere outside this tribe to become a man."

    Those words struck Longarrow with a pang of self-doubt. If he did fail... that proclamation was that he would be exiled. If, over the course of his journeys abroad he could gather proof that he had overcome his obstacles, he could return, and be accepted once more. If he could not prove it, the village would choose a guardian, tasked to drive the intruder out. The failure. The child without a home. Only men were allowed to return to the tribe once they leave, else they have nothing to provide, and as such are no good to anyone.

    Shaking his head to clear the thought seemed to work, and he lifted his chin and nodded. "Honored Elder, I will return to you a man."

    With that, he left the circle of tribesmen and women, and headed up the winding path through the hills, to the rock that jutted from the earth like a finger proclaiming that a certain spot of sky belonged to it, and none may lay claim lest they be flicked back to the ground should they try to scale it. The significance was not lost on the young man with the brown hair, and brown eyes to match.

    Illuskan are a hearty people, and unbothered by the cold for the most part, Longarrow being no exception. The winds bit hard, but his heavy leathers and furs kept it from bothering him as he ascended. Night had since fallen, and he had until the moon reached it's highest point to walk. When the moon reached it's Zenith, a full moon as was custom for the rites of adulthood, then he would sleep, and the dreams would come and tell him what he faced.

    Such occurred without incident, much to his relief, and he settled down to sleep among the furs he wore, used as a blanket, one above and one below so the ground did not leech his heat as he slept, nor the winds. Thoughtfully as he should, he pondered his quest as he chewed the plant the elder gave him, the plant the shamans chewed to speak to spirits... and he waited.

    He did not know how long he waited, and in fact did not realize he was asleep, until he looked down from his seated position to see his sleeping form beneath him. "Oh... I did it?" he queried himself, or perhaps the moon as he looked up just after saying it. The moon now was blood red, and had been white when he went to sleep. Surely, he was not in the same place as his body now... He repeated what he had been told to say.

    "Great Spirits, I beseech you. I come seeking the path to manhood, to be tested and found worthy! Come to me, Black Lion spirit! "

    He waited, and waited. The winds whipped about his new ghostly form, and he felt them to his soul, but no sound came. No images appeared. Surely he had been heard? 'Impatience' The elder had spoken of it, to be overcome. "I wait on you, Great Spirit, not the other way around. I shall be here when you are ready. " he announced, and laid down beside his body to wait, finding a surprisingly soft cushion when he laid his head down.

    The black paw his head rested on was connected to a terrible beast, a black lion that dwarfed even his generous size easily. He rose, and bowed before it. "I come to learn, great spirit, and be tested! "

    The creature seemed to examine him, and spoke in a voice that was the thunder of the storm, and the winds across the plains all at once.
    "You have overcome your greed for time. This, was your hardest to learn, was it not?" Longarrow said that it was indeed, and the Lion nodded his great shaggy head. "Now you will face a foe. One that cannot be beaten by an act of Will, but of great strength, and courage alone. Ready yourself!"

    The young man did so, even as a Red Panther moved from behind a stone a merely thirty yards away from him. He moved to engage it... and found himself on his back, laying down. It took him a full moment to realize he was back in his body, and that moment was nearly too much. The panther had leaped already, and was about to bear down on him from the air, claws raking the air in preparation to rend flesh as the tail spun to counterbalance his leap.

    Longarrow did not bother getting up thankfully... it would have wasted time and put him closer to the beast. No, instead he merely rolled across his bow, picking it up as he rose, the panther just touching down and already about to leap again. An arrow sat ready against the string, and at the quick pull back and release, a soft "Thrum" vibrated against the air, followed by a soft thud and a furious scream of rage!

    The bow clattered to the ground a moment later, it's arrow jutting from the breast of the great cat before the Illuskan youth... and it was only then that he realized the markings on the animal. This was a Malar panther... Malar, who was responsible for destroying the Blue Bear Tribe. Malar, who had taken from Uthgar as others had, but in a more heinous fashion, and this was his opponent.

    Another scream picked up where the panther's had died off, a human scream of challenge and rage as his blood boiled. He threw himself headlong at the cat, and it had little time to tense and spring before the man was upon it. It had barely leaped by the time they crashed together, and left it's belly open for the axe that rent it.

    Blood spattered the rocks as two bodies collided with them, and rolled a ways, tumbling, biting, thrashing, screaming, bleeding, dying. It had been a foolish move on the boy's part, but paid off well. The movement slowed, and one figure sprang away from the other. The young man was upright, though stooped, the claws had done a grisly work on him.

    The panther was mortally wounded, and so badly that it could not rise, lest it drag it's entrails. It was prepared for it's death, and it's eyes shone challenge at the young to finish it off. A smart man would have used an arrow. A man willing to put away his pride would have done the efficient thing, and done the cat a service from a safe distance, and lived to fight another day.

    This man-to-be was neither at this moment, bolstered by the Spirit's recognition of his previous victory over himself. His pride was his downfall now.. he stepped in with his axe for the final blow, and took the paw to the legs without warning, and without being able to adjust himself. He fell heavily upon the cat, who did it's best to latch teeth into the fellow, it's entrails glistening as they were pushed out further from the exertion. It didn't care at this point, only the end was real, only taking this foolish boy with it was good enough. And take it with him it did... as they rolled over once... twice... and over the edge of the rock.

    ... some time later ...

    Longarrow awoke to smoke in his face... pungent smoke that stung the eyes, and made them water. He opened them fully and blinked several times, with them finally focusing on the face of his elder. They went past him to see the bloody streak he and his opponent had made on the side of the sharp rocky descent, the gutted cat still partially on the slope while he, was lucky enough to have rolled further, and away from the thrashing creature until it bled itself out trying to reach him.

    "You have slain your foe, and bested your impatience, young one. "

    The elder let the words hang.. and did not follow with the customary congratulations of becoming an adult. No... he instead turned away and pointed. South... southward, black tracks seemed burned into the rock past the scene of the battle, and endlessly into the distance.

    "Your spirit came and led me to you, that you might live through your injuries... and then he walked off. It seems you're not quite donw, Longarrow... you did not pass your test. "

    The world spun, and while unconsciousness threatened to return with haste, the young man bit his lip and fought through it. "I must follow the tracks, then?" he asked hesitantly, gazing over them.

    "You know it to be true. You're luckier than most, and have a direction to go... but you'd best be headed that way. Spirit tracks do not last long..." and sure enough, even as they watched, the ones closest began to vanish.

    "I wish you strength young one. Return a man..."

    Those were the last words of his tribesmen he had heard, as he began walking. He was given a pack with food and water at the beginning, in case he failed, and he had it now, though his bow had broken and his axe been lost somewhere along the fall. He did not stop to search.

    ... A long walk later, many moons worth ...

    A greatsword graced the back of the young fellow who walked into Peltarch that day, from the ship he had boarded. The black tracks had led south into the sea, and he inquired until someone told him what lay directly south. Narfell... There was a single black track on the dock he stepped onto, and then no more to be found as he looked around. It appeared his test would begin here. Guard-work for caravans had got him this far, and a weapon, but would it be enough to become a man, and return to his tribe as such? Only time would tell, and it seemed he had quite a lot of that now while he searched. He had his weapon, his worn out boots, and a first name to suit him while he did so... Cecil.

    Cecil Longarrow, barbarian, wanderer, and child to his tribe, a new citizen of Peltarch, and another pawn in the games played upon the prime that centered on these lands. Would he complete his task? Would he live to see it even? Time would have to tell._