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

The Long Walk, a Black Lion's Tale.


  • _Well, I think I have enough. I left when I was fifteen, and I have nineteen of them, so that should do nicely. Half that many bracelets to fasten them to, two each should do the trick. Time to invite the dreaming.

    I have my metal bowls for the fires, and the things to throw in them. Belladonna, the dream-leaf, and the meat offerings for the Lion. I expect dreams, but from many sources now, so I'd best be prepared for any. I don't think Cra-Vagh needs any special way to reach me, so I'll concentrate on cleansing the goblin charms in the purifying dream smoke, ah, purifying, don't forget the forest sage.

    One fire behind me, to cast my shadow forward.

    One fire before me, so cast my shadow behind.

    Me in the middle, that I might be exposed to both past and present, and hide from neither in the light of the fire, and the eyes on my ancestors, and the Lion himself.

    I will light these, and sit vigil throughout the night, and let the dreams come. I've chosen the ridge by the south gate that overlooks the Rawlins as my spot, since most of my destiny has so far involved those forboding woods. I wonder how many spirits sit in those trees, and watch us mortals go about killing each other, and digging up the past._

    The writing that follows looks a little shaky.

    The dreaming seems to have worked, though I … cannot remember a thing yet. I feel like I drank all night. No matter, though. The charms smell of sage and bitter belladonna now, I suppose I can find out if it worked later. For now, I think I'll try to get some real sleep ... I feel really heavy. Next, I'll figure out which item I want to lay the enchantment on. I do have a few rings sitting about...


  • _Today started out like any other day.

    The gate was quiet, nobody was about, and there was nothing out of place. I like it that way. As much as fighting is a way of life, and often a joy to me, I'd rather the gate itself be boring. Most of the time, boring is safe, and I wish the townsfolk of home a very boring life.

    Another day, another patrol. Enough of my patrols have seen improvements in goblin tactics, and gear alike, that I've been going out more often than usual, and ranging deeper into their lands, in search of answers. Thankfully, many more have aided me in my task, as well. This day, though, I searched alone.

    I encountered no more than the usual token resistance going west, only one or two goblins out of each group came to face me, and I checked each one for their little symbols of what I can only assume represent valor, or some sort of status. Little goblin charms, that they seem to hold in high esteem.

    Years ago I had an idea to have somebody enchant my "Horse-Cleaver," as Albryanna used to call it, with the charms as a , whatever mages call it, a focus, I think. Now, however, my needs are different. I have many fine weapons, and plenty of my own strength, but I could do better. I could BE better. An idea came to me, so I went in search of these too, while I worked on the more important mission of keeping the goblinkind in check, and traveling to their hold to see if they had posted guards again, or if anything else was perhaps making an ill-timed delivery of goods.

    For a good long while, I was disappointed. Few offered battle rather than run, until an entire pack of their casters hit me with spells, while their bomb-throwers threw me a very explodey sort of party at the same time. There were no strong fighters to face, but the number of spells that hit me was staggering, and eventually started to weaken me enough that I needed to fall back to drink healing.

    The braver pursued me. I was proud of their determination, and fought them, and gave them warriors deaths. Their caster friends soon joined them in that sense, and soon the area was quiet, save for the sounds that the freshly slain make on their way to whatever gods they expect, or do not expect, to see.

    In the grove on the southern end opposite the hold, I gathered up the blood thew drew from me upon my hands, and marked the grass all around me, drawing a great Lion, to thank Him for the challenge, and my ability to best it, alone and unaided. Glory where it is due. It was his task that set me as a foe to goblin kind so many years ago, and so I remain. Especially in the interests of protecting Norwick as well, I have plenty of work to do.

    Then, blindness.

    No, just a bright light, and a feeling of satisfaction, that I had done well. The Lion is attentive, and today, more so than usual. I thanked him, and briefly lamented (IN my own mind, and not out loud) that I had found no more of the tokens that I sought in my personal quest to create something to strengthen myself, and then suddenly, several were before me.

    He knows my thoughts without me speaking them, it seems. I was surprised, but by now, I shouldn't be. The Lion watches me closely, I dare not fail, or become lax in my duties.

    I thanked him for the gift, and swore an oath on the blood of my fathers, and their fathers before them that runs through me, that I would pursue to task that it seemed he approved of, and complete it, through any challenges. I rose, and turned my attention to my original task first, the hold, and made to move toward it, when it overtook me.

    There are times, when a man is possessed of a feeling of great power. Letting my rage bubble forth, letting my blood sing the dirge of those who will fall before me to match the lamentations of their women, that was how I felt, but without actually letting go my steadfast control! What better reason to let it sing, now!? I roared a challenge, and charged ahead, grinning like a savage fool, right toward the hold, expecting guards, or ill doings.

    I found nothing there, but still, my thirst for battle was not slaked, so I ran further, to where the goblins usually group on a ledge, expecting battle, but none came… I turned, intending to run INTO the hold, when one of the great, big, fast, nasty bugbears ran toward me, axes in hand, and a grin on it's hideous face.

    I screamed. He screamed. We clashed in a fury, and both struck home immediately. His blood flew as my blade bit down, that giant blade that struck down my beloved in the hands on a monster not terribly long ago. My blood... did not. His weapon struck again, harder ... but nothing happened, causing his eyes to widen in anger.

    "WHY YOU NO DIE!?" it roared in my face, spittle speckling my helm, flecked with blood.

    "I AM THE LION, AND YOUR DEATH!"

    It had the good sense to almost laugh, as it yelled "Lion?"

    Then something clicked. I don't know how or why, but it's expression changed as it said "LION! RUN!"

    And he took off.

    I have no mercy for a fleeing foe when my blood sings.

    I chased him down, as he screamed to nobody else nearby to run, and was glad when he turned to make his last stand. Mercy or no mercy, I prefer to be facing my foe when I slay them. And slain he was, cut down, and then pinned to the earth with my sword, so hard that I had to put a foot on his chest to draw it out, but I was not done.

    No, something still pulled at me. "MORE" I felt. I couldn't stop now, surely there was another for. Another way to strike the fear into those who would rally against us, who would plot to kill and pillage, who would eat of our flesh, and make soup of our bones.

    I re-planted my sword in the earth, and picked up the fallen bugbear's weapon in one hand, and his corpse in the other, despite it's bulk, and placed him against the cliff wall, driving it's instrument of death through it, and into the stone.

    It stuck.

    Blood gushed forth, and served as a writing tool, as I placed the letters of warning near the body in an unmistakable and large fashion.

    THE LION HUNTS.

    It was as I reviewed my work that my blood quit rushing, I could hear clearly again, and my vision returned to a world less red, save for the letters, and clear.

    Thus I heard the approach, and saw the face of my company, a bugbear with a staff, and a bestial helm. A caster, much feared for their nasty spells, and considerable skill.

    I spoke first, unsure if I was still blessed from the battle, but ready to charge forth, and harry him with blows before he could cast, and until he ceased to draw even the most feeble of breaths, to ask:

    "You. Can you read?"

    It replied easily in the common tongue that it could so I bade it read with a gesture of my arm.

    "Then you may live to spread the message. I am the Lion's will, and I protect Norwick with his might. "

    The strange bugbear regarded me for a moment, before speaking calmly.

    "I dreamt of you, man of Norwick, bearer of the Lion."

    "I know well of dreams." I said, for I did. Many of my adventures, including the one that brought me to this land, started with dreams not of my own making. " What did you see, shaman of goblinkind?" I implored.

    It spoke again, just as at ease as he was walking up. "I saw much, some of which is hidden from even me still, some which is not. You have allies to the North, and vipers in your nest. "

    That make me ponder a moment. "That much is true, though vipers are hard to seek out. They hide under rocks, and only strike at the unwary. "

    His furry brow creased. "You have choices to make. Hard choices. They will not be popular, for war never is, nor are decisions made in the dark to stop the darkness. You may also have allies in unexpected places, unseen and uncalled for. But that is up to you. "

    I felt myself Frown deeply, concerned that the bugbear knows the truth of what I myself, have suspected for some time. Even now, I may not write it, for fear of discovery.

    "I stand apart from this." he told me with a wave of his hand, Waves his hand All of this.

    "Then you are not an enemy. Not in the usual sense. "

    "It is my fate to say what is, and what may be. I will not attack you. It is not my fate. " he told me, and I think he smiled. It's hard to tell with all those damned teeth, really.

    "Yours is a hard path to take, too." I told him. "Have you a name? "

    "I am Cra'vagh, Seer of the Kin. "

    "I am known as Cecil the Northman, to men. I know not what your kind call me, have they a name for me at all. "

    "If you walk the path before you and do not stray, you will be known as Cecil, the Lion of the North. "

    "You have been shown much then, Cra'Vagh, Seer. "

    He inclined his head briefly, and adjusted his stance in parting. "If you wish to speak again, seek me in your dreams, for I can touch those, as I can the dreams of many. Such is my burden. Seek the Lion. "

    "In dreams, then. " I said, bidding him farewell.

    "Go in peace, man of the Lion. I will see you soon enough. "

    "May the Lion watch you." I told him as he turned. I meant that, too. If he is an ally, then may the Lion stalk his shadow, and turn on those who hunt him. If he seeks to deceive, may the Lion also stalk his shadow, and turn it red, by my hand, or his own.

    For now, though … it's time to address this project._


  • Well, that was productive.

    A copy of a report is jotted down here for safekeeping and sharing.

    @b1186e9051:

    _Update on the arming of the goblinkind.

    A young woman near the south gate claimed to be a fortune seller of sorts, and made a comment worth looking into about that afternoon being dangerous to those in the woods.

    Naturally, I went.

    I took a few with me, and ended up with a few uninvited guests as well, though I had to tell the one called Varia to stay behind, since she had claimed to be cursed, rather like the Arthur fellow, who is a supreme mess, and has apparently been bedridden for months. Talk about demons and such solidified that I don't want either on a high risk patrol, as things would be dangerous enough as is. The priest Jason argued with me, toting his years of experience in military and life in general, but I find myself more and more disinclined to listen to him.

    With good reason. His attachment to his pals leaves him open to very poor decision making. While that's his choice, it certainly won't affect me, or those I lead off into danger.

    The goblin lands were quiet. I had gone west two days prior, down a level into the goblin hold too, before we lost Aoth to a fit of clausta, clautro… fear of small spaces. Like caves. She lived, and we found her eventually in fine health having escaped with a bit of difficulty, but found no evidence of well armed goblins, or stashes of gear.

    This recent trip was different.

    We encountered very skilled hobgoblins in heavy brass scale armor, and a few in plate. Unusual, the plate. Masterwork greataxes accounted for several of their armaments, and we ended up fighting some sort of leader of their group, whom I got to face off with, armed with my blade and spells laden upon me, and I beat him thoroughly, slaying him, and taking yet more gear and quality potions from the corpse.

    Inside, there was a great deal more fighting (In the cave deeper in the woods, across from the Ostromines) and a heated, loud, argument could be heard. We broke up the party, slew a demonbinder and more powerful hobs, as well as some bugbears. There was even a sneak who cleverly waited til we had stopped fighting one group to take a stab at us, in the literal sense. It was rather unsuccessful.

    Below is the list of loot we accquired, though none bore any particular hallmarks, save one armor that was colored black and grey, that nobody found any significance in the colors for.

    I'm going to put the whip to our soldiers if I don't get some cooperation, we're not ready for an attack by powerful foes, and adventurers in Norwick are in short supply. D'Cameron and Davos need to make some time to clear things with me, or I'm going to just start taking charge, and let them ask questions later.

    Too many out of shape, too many aren't veterans, and too many don't seem to have a specific functions. Thank the Gods I have my own volunteer scouts.

    The list:

    Two sets of plate. One colored black and grey
    Two heavy brass scale, but standard
    5 masterwork greataxes
    Two towershields

    Gaxwell, owed 165_


  • _Well.

    I never thought I'd see the day.

    In all the time that I've been around sorceries, plots, intrigues, plans, spells, tricksters, persons of ill repute, wild magic, hare-brained adventures, brushes with death, lost cities, dragons, bugbears, and bodaks (Oh my), I never thought I would see this.

    Yesterday, there was two of me.

    Yep. Two. That's what… 500 pounds of Cecil? It's been a long time since somebody put me on a grain scale for amusement, heh. Even the half-giant jokes have slacked off lately. I think folks are finally pretty much just used to me being... me. That was until yesterday.

    Long story short, an old temporary ally of ours has the ability to change appearances, and lo and behold, he took my form when he let me know that we've been acquainted before. Right in front of everyone at the temple, too!

    I can't resist writing this down at all though. Despite the grave tone regarding the plan itself, despite the seriousness of what we're about to go do, and despite the hot tempers and suspicion that boiled over while we tried to make plans, only -one- thing stands out above the rest in my mind about yesterday.

    Reader, or whoever happens across this journal... you should have SEEN Ashena's face!

    Yep. That'll be with me forever. Hah! Gods above she's adorable._

    ((If anybody wants to draw that, I'll love you forever! 😛 ))


  • _As usual, so much has happened since I last wrote.

    What I need, however, right now, is a response. Someone to come forth, and let me at least TRY to fix things.

    I've heard it all before, and lately again, though with more dismissal. More finality.

    "Norwick is lost. It's a lost cause. Nobody cares. I hate that place. It's not worth it. "

    Well Gods be damned. I couldn't help being away for those years. The dreams came forward, the memories resurfaced, and the only thing I can think of, was that I was turned to stone, and randomly cured of it by a wandering adventurer, or even the bastards who did it to me, and left to return home, or do what I wished, as if someone's plans for me were up.

    Now I'm home, and I've returned to a place very changed. The Raumviri are not a problem, though they make a lot of folk uncomfortable.

    Davos is still there. D'Cameron is still there. I am here once more… but this time, nobody cares.

    I put up flyers. I spread the word. I want to help. I want to fix things. Still... nothing. I may have to be creative in order to get people to even LOOK at Norwick again. Perhaps re-establishing the games?

    A festival perhaps.

    Would people be wary, their memories reminding them only of the horrific fate that befell so many at the last big event here in my town?

    There's only one way to find out, but as much as I'll happily rush into a group of foes, dive in front of an attack meant for a friend, and even go DRAGON hunting... this has me feeling fear of a sort I'm not used to.

    Am I wasting my time? If I am... what is there left for me elsewhere? Oh Lion, I need your guidance now more than ever._


  • _I almost forgot about this thing again.

    Sitting alone in the jailer's room to collect my thoughts actually seems to have worked, so I had may as well put them to paper while they're still in my thick head. My return has been… well, eventful. It's gone well though!

    Things with Ashena are just as they were when I left, save a little tremor of nervousness I get whenever we part now. Things were odd for the first few days I was back though, but not with her. It was everybody else! It turns out (And I really shouldn't be surprised!) that I was well known to people I had never met, even based solely on my appearance.

    "Hey, you're Cecil!"

    "Oh, I know all about you!"

    "I've heard so much!"

    I fear I blushed a great deal the first week of my return but things are a little bit calmer now, more normal, and well... it feels like home again. It was strange, feeling like a stranger after not being gone that long, or at least... I don't feel like it was that long. And the not remembering is frustrating. Or it was.

    There's a load of nonsense about some puppetmaster freak, and he's put quite a hurt on my friends, both from making them harm one another, even in the process of keeping him out of each other's heads, to making them doubt themselves, and worse, one another.

    Shallyah and Talindra seem to have it the worst at the moment, Shallyah because she was compromised, and Talindra because of the rampant fear and distrust in the group, and it's unfailing ability to make things awkward, if not dangerous, constantly. I hope I've been the help to her that she says I have, though I'm sure she was honest. She -is- very honest, and I find myself feeling very protective of her, and not because she's one of Ashena's squires.

    Allestor killed Fendon while I was away, and is quite the well known hero for it. I for one, am -very- pleased that he stayed around. I enjoyed his company, and fighting beside him, and on top of all that? Nobody teases -me- about bring a hero any more! It suits him, and therefore, me too! That kind of talk always did make me feel a little awkward, like people were putting me into shoes that were far too big.

    Mending the damage done to Norwick's reputation is proving to be slow, but I feel that I -can- make a difference here, just like I did when I first joined the guard, and put a stop to a lot of the senseless dick-swinging brutality that the guard was known for. It's going to be harder now, mostly it seems, due to Davos running his mouth, and doing his best to piss off -everyone-. Sometimes I wonder whose side he's really on. You cannot trust a supposed carpenter who purposely puts cracks into a foundation.

    Lady Rith loaned me a sword, which I quickly found myself not really being the right bearer for, which I passed on, having misunderstood her directions about -how-, but I hear that got resolved. It was definitely a loan, and I overstepped my bounds by entrusting it to someone, like a silly ass, without remembering her wishes, or consulting her first. Thankfully, she forgave me and seems to have cleared up my mistake. I hope to make it up to her and Andrew both, somehow.

    Val is still here, and still very much Val. It's reassuring to say the least. Shallyah, however, has changed. For the better. She seems to have let go slightly, of the feeling that she is merely a tool, and instrument of her God and beliefs, and despite some of the hardship and confusion that has come with it, seems happier than I've ever seen her, at least until this puppetmaster business reared it's ugly head again. I WILL find a way to help her be free of this ridiculous burden that this puppetmaster fool has brought upon us all. In the meantime, I'll settle for just being there. For now.

    Between Shallyah and Val, I was even able to get something very nice made for Ashena. I cannot WAIT to see her face! More than usual, even, which is saying quite a lot. I have more to make up to her than anyone, though she would never say it, if she has even thought it. Her family is also on my mind a lot. I have a lot of proving to do to them that I'm not going to disappear again... though for weeks I had no idea even HOW or WHY I vanished.

    Last night's dream changed that.

    Now I get to sit here alone in the almost-dark, and calm myself, so that I can think clearly on how to get those bastards back. I will probably have to ask Val to clarify something that I think I saw, and fill me in on the parts I just don't understand... but at least the headaches are gone.

    Walter is still here, and stronger than I've ever seen him, and makes a hell of a compliment to the team, even more than before, especially beside Andrew and Allestor, which is no surprise. Dermin, too. Reynauld is often with them as well, and formidable too. I was lucky enough to duel several of them, and Shallyah in the same day, and managed to win each match, except against Shallyah. Then again, she won the fight without armor against all three of at once, too. No surprise there!

    Before I fall asleep again, as I can already feel the darkness lulling me back into a slumber, I have to write down Ky's vague vision warning. A horde of demons is apparently going to end up in Norwick, and he was told to beware.

    I MUST get this place ready, and more than that, be ready myself. We lost Norwick once when I wasn't available on the front lines (Not that I could have turned that tide, from all accounts), but this time, I MUST do more. First, fix relations with those than can aid us, so that they WANT to again, and next, get evacuation plans prepared, and get the Mostly Raumviri guard (Most of the old guard died or left after the taking of the town) prepared too, and in better standing in town. I've heard disturbing things about bullying and tyrant-like behavior, and I won't stand for it, even if I have to fight them myself.

    May the Lion grant me wisdom, patience, and strength of mind in the times to come.

    I'm going to need it._


  • _Well, all things considered, not a bad start.

    I mean yeah, there's the whole, "Where the hell have I been, and how the hell did I get home." question on my mind, and my poor timing at finding out that I arrived after Ashena had left for a short while, -and- finding out that I missed the entire period that the temporary treaty was in place, AND finding out that Davos somehow royally pissed off… well, everyone ever... but I can get past that.

    I got my head checked by Galin. Or rather, my soul and ... whatever part of you magical stuff sits as far as compulsions or something goes, and I'm in the clear, which is almost completely a good thing.

    I kind want to know who had me, and why, and perhaps why they let me go.

    It's not terribly important, but I do want to know. Til then, I'll focus on trying to get rid of this monster of a headache. Ow. Write more in the morning._


  • 5 years have passed since the journal was touched. Five years, and very few answers have come from it, even for Cecil himself. That, however, is a story for another day. For now, a certain Talindra has agreed to send a letter for him, so once more, quill touches page, and words take their written form, from heart, to hand, to paper.

    _My dearest Ashena,

    First, let me say what I've been feeling this whole time, and that which has never stopped for a moment. "I love you." That, if nothing else, has not wavered an instant this whole time. I have been held, but am returned, and whole still, and eagerly await your return home.

    I miss you terribly, and will explain everything when I see you again, and pray that your family does not think he unfit for you now, as it has been an ordeal up to this point, and circumstances were beyond my control.

    Every rose I pass reminds me of you. I will be waiting for you, as I hear you have waited for me.

    Yours -always-,

    Cecil Northman
    Your Lion._


  • ~An excerpt~

    Cecil sits seemingly alone in the tower, near Ormpur, collecting his thoughts. The Undead, Worgs, Pack Leaders, and hordes of rabid and diseased animals were a challenge for him one after the other, but his desire to treasure hunt, test himself, and to reach -this- place helped him overcome, and now, he rests.

    The meeting of the Remnant and their allies went well, but the unexpected turn of events … well, he wasn't expecting to be interim Chancellor. It's just as well that someone who wasn't seeking the position has it, he figured, but still. There's enormous potential for failures of all sorts, from a height so lofty.

    The meeting, however, brought him forward in his thoughts when it happened, and he was forced to lay some words down, words that he could not go back on, or forget. That's half the reason to say such things, really. Thinking them is fine and good, but making sure others know that you expect them to hold you accountable? Better. If ... you're up to it. The memory of his speech comes forward, like a vision, for him to remember it.

    _Cecil stands from his place at the parchments, and listens to the various comments, then turns to Shallyah directly when she addresses him.

    I thank you, Shallyah. First, for your honesty, and the honor in your requests. Respect. He makes a fist to his chest, and bows to her. Second, because you've opened up a good time for me to say a couple of things that need to be said.

    Let any scribe, man, woman, warrior, or power unseen that can hear me, take note, and hear me well.

    Since I am indeed responsible for the leadership of the Remnant and this town, now, there are a few things that I wish to make crystal clear.

    Should Ostromog and his forces honor this agreement, which I find to be acceptable in it's current form, then so too, shall I. And with my honor, comes Norwick's. As long as I hold Norwick, breach of the treaty is grounds for making an enemy of Norwick, should the action be purposeful, for the undermining of our peace.

    I am a man bound by self.

    I will not fall, should I treat with 'evil.' I need not run sword first into certain death if it can be avoided, nor will I ask another to. I will, however, consider those whose oaths are more stringent than mine in all things, because I -do- fight on the side of good.

    Norwick has always -had- laws, but I've always found laws to be chafing. Words are easily bent, misinterpreted, and used for purposes that they were not intended. Norwick's laws will stand as they were, and I will have laws drafted regarding the treaty as well. Hear me well, on this.

    Just as before, I will use what power I possess to the best of my ability. I will not abuse it, Norwick's people, or strangers in the night, nor those I care less for than others.

    Until we can get Norwick steady once more, if I am needed to watch over this home of mine, I shall. The same as I always have. When the time comes, however, that Norwick can support itself once more, We WILL hold elections.

    Throughout this, I will need aid. I will need advisors, leaders, and those who are willing to stand beside me during this transition. My goals, for now, are this.

    Cecil takes a brief break, pulling out his journal, and looking like what seem to just just a couple of words. He's not a speech writer, it's clear, but he knows his goals at least, it seems.

    I wish to get Norwick back to independence. We will likely need some time of support, through food and building materials, until the mill is running and the farms are once more healthy and productive.

    I also wish to create pacts. In times of war in the tribes, there were pacts between friendly groups, which included coming to the aid of their allies immediately in case of attack. This proposed one interesting problem. Bear with me a moment.

    Should my Lion tribe be allied with the Raven, we would protect them. The alliance is public, and well known. Most effective ones are. Should the Boar tribe attack the Raven, they will know that they also attack the Lion tribe. Now, what if the Lion is on friendly terms with the Boar already? The Lion will attack anyway, because they agreed on their pact with the Raven. The boar creates a full blown enemy, where an ally once was, and his loss is two-fold.

    The response time from Peltarch and other nations is a problem. There are agreements to be made, numbers to consider, current issues to weigh, all of it. I will entreat them to make a pact with me. Should an issue arise such as this again, to have a group set aside that can respond with haste. Our evacuation was my main concern.

    When I was a guard, and things looked bad, I sent guards back to town to tell people to get ready in case of evacuation. We ended up winning the day each time before, however, a system like this could prevent such a greater loss of life in the future. With the aid of allies, we could get the town evacuated in half the time, or less, than we could alone.

    Those goals, are some of what I hope to accomplish while I am entrusted with the burden of leadership. And yes, I intend to do it from the front.

    With a deliberate nod to Shallyah at his last sentence, he closes his book, has a long drink of water, and watches the rest of those gathered._

    Yes, he will remember. Yes, he will follow through. And yes, this too, shall be a trial that he overcomes. He shakes himself awake, and speaks out loud to the empty room.

    "What if … what if I do well, and help? Maybe all that hero talk wouldn't be so bad after all.

    He falls asleep after a time, with dreams of well-earned glory in his mind, tempered with even grander dreams of fulfilling his duty. Maybe Ardent was right. Maybe he's a little paladin-y after all… in a way.


  • (DM Syied approved)

    I was sitting down to write my reports, catch up if you will, and read over the law books again, especially concerning ranks. It seems I've finally gotten my promotion!

    @5de15d8a36:

    • Guardsman Cecil Northman

    Due to the fierce fervor and devoted loyalty you have shown over the many year in service to the realm. I hereby promote you, Cecil Northman to esteem rank of Senior Guardsman. You will fulfill your duties and serve your realm with the utmost vigilance and honorable respect. Until you withdraw by choice or fall in glorious combat. In the name of all that stands for Norwick and the well being and prosperity of her people. Effective immediately.

    Norwick Prevails.

    • Lieutenant Rain & Captain Locrian Danister

    _I am writing this report, journal, or whatever … from Peltarch. Norwick is, at the moment, no more.

    I guess I should start at the beginning. It goes like this.

    My reports and promotion sheet were put aside for talking to one of the guards, who burst into the room, looking terrified, and nearly screamed at me.

    "SHIT WE GOT GNOLLS FROM THE NORTH AND BUGBEARS FROM THE SOUTH."

    That was enough to send me to my feet, but the color on his face made me pause, and I nodded, sending him running out. He knew his job ... but I worried if I would be able to do mine. My duty is to Norwick, and promotion or not, I am responsible for her people. Hells, especially now with the promotion.

    Trusting to the soldiers to do what they do without question, Ilooked for Belinda in her office, as she was often the only other person in the halls, and nabbed Bub from his perch to his usual one atop my shoulder, and ran out, looking for Belinda on the way. Things needed to be done.

    Belinda was there when I arrived at the boats, and I sent the one guard I was able to find, to the North, while Belinda and I made our way around the lands to the east, to gather up every civilian we could find. She was among the first to arrive, having already been gathered up.

    We ended up with a LOT, and the ferryman, good man that he is, let them on the boat with my word that it was necessary. I don't know how much of the village I packed onto that boat, but it floundered a little before we got some speed, and scared the hell out of us.

    Speaking of US ... I was never supposed to get on that boat. Damnit.

    Belinda started it. I loaded everything up, her included, and turned to go lend my blade to the effort. The evacuation was well under way, but there were others to get out of there! My turn gave her my cloak, then there were two, then four, then more hands on it. Belinda was clever enough to say they boat itself needed protection, but I think what it really needed was not to have MY heavy ass on it.

    Short story shorter, the boatman launched while I was on the boat and arguing, and forbade me come back. He said he'd make trips while he could, for us, but that I shouldn't expect too much.

    He came back a few times that I know of, but I have not attempted to board the ship again. Instead, I'm going to inquire about refugees in and near Peltarch, since it's apparently a fine time to be close to our neighbors.

    I've heard that I was right, that Norwick fell, and is now in Bugbear hands ... which I intend to see righted, and quickly. I cannot, however, do it alone. First things first.

    I must find Ashena. She MUST be ok.

    I must find Val and Shallyah, they'll know what to do.

    I must find shelter for my townsfolk.

    I must seek the Lion.

    But first ... sleep._

    (DM Syied approved)


  • A quick note is jotted down, as a reminder to himself

    Find out what Ardent is talking about regarding promotions. Nobody has said word one to ME about this stuff…


  • _A great many things have occurred in the past couple of days, or maybe it just seems that way. Regardless, it's been an interesting time. The wedding is coming soon, the Solstice bearing down on me more quickly than I dared to hope, and I find myself nervous, but in a good way. Like the feeling before a battle, but one you're already set to win, if you can only have the courage to -go-.

    The prize is great, Ashena is my ideal, and Celia has the ceremony all planned out, so I don't think that even -I- could goof this up. Val even got us rings, and Ardent, in her usual Ardent fashion, has already attacked us with gifts! This new bow is really impressive, and I think Ashena will enjoy her gift as well!

    Speaking of Ardent, I always forget that she's a half-elf, in the sense of, remembering that she's a part of the elven community. I hear about them once in a while in reports, or see them out and about in bands of just elves (For the most part), but never really gave it much thought. Seems normal.

    Today, I joined them on a hunting trip, the sole human among the elf-blooded, and I'll be honest with myself here, I felt quite out of place.

    For about ten minutes.

    These were all people I knew at least a little, and they welcomed me well, and did not speak Elven, possibly so as not to make me feel excluded. We ended up having a pretty good time! Into the underdark we went, a path having been opened to the ettins, which we went to go say hello to!

    Ama and I were up front, wielding Greatswords, and a comment was brought up about … how large my sword is. Ardent of course, perpetrated that, and had me blushing in no time, but I think Jin was very much her partner in crime there. Regardless, Ama'Bael commented that we would see how well I could use it, so in we went.

    It's been quite a while since I've seen the ettins. Long enough, that the last time I was there, just one or two was quite a fight for me.

    This time, we cut through them like a flaming sword through goblin.

    I got a grin and a compliment from Ama, and we resumed our grisly work, each of us able to knock down these psuedo-giants, one way or another, and pouncing on the fallen things, blade first, when the opportunity arose.

    It was a glorious slaughter when we came across several at once, and even their Shamans were no match at all.

    Quiet halls dominated the next hour or so after some mining was done. That surprised me, since, while I know the value of mining, I cannot help but refer to it as the "Dinner bell of the Underdark." I'm always shocked when the sound of picks ringing on stone doesn't bring every hungry critter for leagues, right away. Then again, I suppose the twisting of the tunnels helps account for that.

    Then we saw him. A MASSIVE ettin, who looked better armed, and kind of ... well, a lot different from the others. He took up a decent chunk of the hall, saw us, and grinned twice, once from each horrible head, and I didn't even have time to remark how strange it was to see one of those agreeing with ... well, itself, before it was upon us.

    I can safely say, this may have been the most intense fight of my life!

    Blades came rushing in, giving me just barely enough time to get my sword up, and had I not, I realized that not even my steel armor would have saved me from that horrible first strike. This bastard was as strong as six ettins!

    Therean and Caelisar were mostly beside me, a bit to the side, and suddenly several of us were getting smacked, and it was brutal. Blood flew, and most of it was from us, the damned thing being too fast to hit easily, and shrugging off even the mightiest of blows. I know. I served him half a dozen immediately.

    There was nothing for it, so I shouted a challenge up at him, and it actually looked surprised for a moment, before laying into me like I was the only thing to exist.

    Thank the Lion for my strength, thank Ashena for my increasing faith in myself, thank Moon for the armor, and Ardent for the blade ... had I not been prepared as I was, I would have fallen, and more than once.

    Thank Caelisar and Therean, who took turns chanting as rapidly as they could, to continuously heal me, and keep me on my feet. Even as I felt faint, nearly at death's door, no sooner would I take another swing instead of retreat, than the healing word of the Elven Gods suffused me, further frustrating my foe, and causing it to hit harder, faster, but still staying relentlessly on me alone.

    That's what I wanted.

    The others were capable, skilled ,and strong, but this was my place. This was my purpose, and if I need fall to gain them an extra moments respite, or escape, I would do it. These were my companions, and I was meant to face this threat, so I did. Gods was I afraid, I had a wedding to get to, and dammit I was going to make it alive.

    My prayer to the Lion must have been heard, through bloody, gritted teeth. My next strike, and the one after, and one shortly after that, all bit deeply into the creature, and indecision finally struck it's horrid features. Was this puny human going to win? Surely not!

    Both arms lifted, a great foot shifted for maximum striking power downward, and the Golden Sword of Valkur, that giant shining greatsword, found it's mark, a wet hiss escaping a punctured lung, and a shudder pulsing through the blade from a heart that just figured out it was time to quit, being skewered so, before the creature fell down nearly on top of me, unmoving.

    Jokes were traded about whether I knew how to use a shield, among exclamation of disbelief, and praise for valor and strength, but all of us were stunned. This creature stood firm against a RAIN of blows from several of us, sneaky attacks from Ardent and Jin, slices from the new fellow they kept calling henchman, and arrows and sling bullets alike, that his companions had fallen to in mere MOMENTS.

    Either he was a champion among ettins, or he was spelled to the teeth.

    Meeting Casca in the tunnels later informed us that at least the latter was true. A complaint that we had killed all her loyal customers was met with a few disbelieving stares, but it did make sense when she mentioned that one of them was a GREAT customer, and had bought enough to be nearly invincible.

    Oh. Thanks. It ALL makes sense now, you half-pint whack-nut.

    She talked our ears off about the auction for a bit, then headed to the surface with us. One thing caught my ear specifically though, when she was singing the praises of her wares. An egg shaped device, like the ones she sold the Legion during the war.

    I asked for clarification, since I was not there for that, and had only heard tales from others, and determined that yes, she had sold it to them, and yes, she had at least another like it. I was assured, of course, upon asking, that they didn't -all- do that... you know, open gates to the hells on Toril, but I asked her anyway, politely, if she could PLEASE not sell any more of those ... especially since she valued living customers.

    Thankfully, she at least -said- she wouldn't, but I don't know how strong her word binds her. I hope she keeps it.

    At any rate, Bub has climbed me since the talk of ettins, and is emulating being a second head atop my shoulder, so I imagine it's time to feed him again. Boy does he get creative when he's hungry..._


  • _It's been some time since I wrote, last.

    I took a week long walk to clear my head, and returned to find the usual. People arguing, living, loving, fighting, banding together, targeting one another, everything.

    If I've realized anything in my time here, it's that life goes on. The little things matter, but everyone has something different that they want, seek, fear, or aim for.

    The Militia is in a bit of a tangle at the moment. I don't know when the last time Locrian was seen, I haven't seen Albryanna in some time either, and I haven't even seen Dwin in months myself, nor heard his name, until the discussion of Militia pay came up.

    Pay has always been a bit of a toss up, since many of us only work as guards part time, while others from the town, or from outside, help bolster our defenses. Granted, it's not like being a farmer, or a mill worker, or a maid. It's not like being a cook, or a cleaner, or a smith.

    Still, people want pay.

    I get that. What I cannot get, however, is why nobody is willing to address the subject on their own. There was hemming and hawing, discussion and grumbling, even some threats to leave, but nobody really stepped forward and set suggestions for an actual fix. They made suggestions at first, sure, but nothing cohesive. No votes, nothing we could move forward with.

    I probably overstepped by bounds, but I gathered as many guards and associated folk as I could, and called for a tally. Then I left, and went to the homes of those who were not present, and got them too, then made sure word was spread, so I could gather the desires of the Militia at large, over the course of the week.

    Rain gave me a nod, and said she would leave it to me after that, so I either overstepped my bounds as a plain old guard, or she approves. Sometimes it's hard to tell with that one…

    Locrian of course hasn't spoken up or showed up, so I have no clue what he thinks about all of it. I'm not too concerned, to be honest, but I do wish I had a better idea of what I'm doing.

    I put forth the suggestions, I wrote them for the Chancellor, and now ... I wait. Let's see if I made a mistake in getting involved in this. I wonder what Ashena would think?_


  • Sweat dots the page as Cecil leans over his journal by candlelight in the barracks. Bub the black cat, concerned, has nestled himself into Cecil's lap, and received an affectionate pat with a shaking hand. The hand is large, and crisscrossed with many scars from countless fights and the occasional accident, but the shake is unusual.

    The sweat dotting the page is unusual for the chill night that the autumn air brings, even deep into the barracks, but nightmares have a way of doing that. This night, even the Lion Knight, as some like to call him, woke in a cold sweat from fighting an imaginary foe. Or was it?

    Putting quill to page, the barbarian exhales slowly, calming himself as best he can, but calm will not come. Perhaps -after- the words have exorcised the shadows from his mind, will the shake subside…

    _Sleep is very nearly a thing to fear now, it seems. I see it over and over again. The dwarven guard coughs, and in my dreams, I know what's coming, but I am stuck, watching myself go to pat him on the back, thinking it's nothing serious.

    He faints, and I overstep my bounds once more, as usual of late, and order him to the healer.

    I turn my back for a moment, and the sound RIPS through my head. The sound of a sodden cloak being ripped in half by a giant like paper… and then the chittering.

    Long multiple jointed legs scurry, and I am surrounded. I am buried. There are so many! It's a good thing I don't fear spiders... they fall quickly to axe, sword, and boot.

    I fear no spiders.

    The red mess before me though, the one that was a comrade, and is now a shapeless, lifeless, nameless mess of bone fragments, viscera, blood, and gore ... it's no different than the results of countless fights I have won, and probably some I have lost, right?

    I've seen enemies torn -completely- asunder from the Gods-enhanced strength of my strike with my greatsword, fueled by rage, and honed by training and determination ... but this, this is different.

    My companion, fellow guard, friend, and ally... was a nest. Nothing more than a nest, for what? An instantly incubating egg of some horrific infectious monster? It happened so fast. Perhaps if there was time to see the problem, address it, hope for a cure or help ... then maybe, just maybe I would not feel like I had ice within my chest upon waking, and feel it's melt all across my skin like a sickness.

    Today, I battled monsters. They were not the foes I struck with my blade, either.

    I battled those that would fight by cunning and stealth from afar, whoever created this ... abomination! I fought their cursed creations. Was this the work of a mad wizard, or a maniac in the name of the thing they call "Science?"

    There's the issue. Therein lies my fear.

    I don't know.

    Can this be put in the water supply?

    What if I wake, and the entire down is dotted with red puddles, and the very ground -crawls- and -chitters- and -devours-?

    I will fight, I will let loose a shout that will shatter bones, drive away enemies, and strike fear into the hearts of all who stand before me, and I will perish like a mortal, with a blade in my hand ... NOT as a breeding ground for nightmares.

    Gods I hope this is true.

    I should be writing about my wedding, but tonight, I am married to nightmares, and only they will sleep beside me this night, I can feel it. I've never before feared sleep. I've never before feared fear.

    Come dreams ... bring what you will. The Lion's heart is mine, and I will face what you have to bring. Fear alone will not stop me. Black Lion, preserve my mind, strengthen my heart, and steel my shaking hand.

    Please._


  • Tonight, Cecil stands vigil at the gate alone. His journal is safely tucked away, and his sword is over his shoulder once more, his Lion-Blessed axe in his hands. The south gate is empty, save for him, and a badger playing in the grass nearby, unbothered by the huge man in the golden armor nearby.

    He kneels, and before him is a strange pile of seemingly unrelated items.

    A hunk of raw meat.
    A couple goblin charms.
    An apple.
    A half-poured out bottle of expensive winter wine.

    His prayer is in Illuskan, quiet and unassuming, and sounds like more of a ritual than a prayer.

    [Illuskan] _Black Lion, he who is ever in my shadow. I saw your sign, and followed your omen. I was able to act on it, and you were in my shadow as always. For this, I thank you. I share this meal with you, that I live to get to eat.

    Your claws lent bite to my blade.
    Your eyes saw the foes that mine did not.
    You showed me the way to lead my allies, though we risked life willingly, and lost some, we were still victorious.

    I share this meal with you.

    The meat of a worthy foe, like a Black Lion of the deep, cruel and strong.
    An apple of this land, that I am happy to protect.
    The good luck charms of bested foes, may they serve me better than they.
    Wine from the homelands, from the iced grapes.

    Sup with me, brother, friend, ally, and teacher.
    Accept my sacrifice, God and mentor.

    I thank you. I am yours._


  • _The report has been written. Loc's gold is finally in his locker. I'm alive, but not well.

    The attack last night … was a disaster.

    People trusted me, but I couldn't get things well enough in order to keep people alive. And that damnable Dwarf whose name I didn't even get, but kept getting in my ... well, he would have been in my face were there not a three or more foot height difference, fell too. Despite him being a jackass, I didn't want him -dead-. Guess his doomsaying about the gate being a deathtrap was what I've heard called a "Self fulfilling prophecy."

    It leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It seems guilt has a taste.

    What bothers me the most, is Ardent. She fell TWICE. The first time, a group of archers and probably a caster, targeted her in unison on her ledge. I was nowhere close, as I was trying to -be- a gate, right in the thick of things. I'm no Shallyah, I'm no Rath. I cannot stand alone against the Hordes of Bugbears and survive easily, or call upon Divine help reliably. I couldn't let them pass, though. This is my duty.

    Others fell, including brave Ky, whose body we had to go get on a mad dash out of the gate. I've seen enemies take the bodies of our fallen before, and I wasn't about to let that happen again.

    We lost the south gate, nearly lost the inner gates when a MASSIVE Bugbear ran right through us, knocking everyone aside, and their casters ran wildly through us like we weren't there, without a care for their own lives once their spells wore off.

    Enemies would make more sense if they too, feared death. As it is, I cannot understand what motivates our enemies to attack us as they do. Are they that loyal, or is the penalty for coming back as the losing side, death, anyway?

    We ended up having to make a counterattack. Re-take our gates. Ardent, Moonie, our new scout whose name I always goof up, and others went the long way around to execute a Hammer and Anvil maneuver at my suggestion.

    Problem is, I missed the cue over the din. Moon had spoken into my head as she left, and I assume that was the signal. I have NO idea how that stuff works, so I'm pretty fairly sure it's my fault Ardent fell again when we didn't come charging out at their beginning the fight.

    Victoria's word stunned them with Lurue's power, not once, but twice, thankfully, and we got there just in time to put many down before they came to their senses. It was too late for my friend, however, and I'm stuck thinking about what I could have done better. Too early, and we would have been massacred, too late, and she was.

    The only answer is to continue to improve. Get better. Work with the militia, train with Victoria and Shallyah, and help Sir Roderick in his endeavors, as well as continue to clear the terrors out from under Peltarch when I can.

    I always tell people I'm no hero, and that nobody needs one. What if I was one, and was able to defy death, and lead the charge the first time I thought I heard something?

    Maybe I should try to become one.

    Great Lion, what do I do?_


  • _Two hundred.

    This is not so big a number to me any longer. There was a time when I first came here, that having 200 gold in my hands tempted me to hit the road again, and live like a king for a while.

    Seeing that a bathhouse pass to join Ashena in being clean and relaxing cost that much nearly made me faint.

    There was a time when 200 small goblins would have made me flee.

    There was a time when the idea of having 200 of my enemies driven underfoot til they were so much red paste and the occasional squeak would have seemed impossible.

    Since those days, 200 is not so unimaginable.

    So why the HELL is it suddenly so hard to find moonstones!?!?

    Moon says that if I gather 200 of them, she has a grand surprise for me. I took to my task with fervor, and got …. 2. TWO.

    I let one goblin survive the whole day that I spent killing them, searching them thoroughly. I would not be surprised to see crude drawings of me show up with x's for eyes, and daggers in my coal-drawing body.

    I wonder if I can get somebody to write up a goblin ransom note saying that I'll ease up on the genocide for 200 moonstones? Heh ... yeah right. Back to the grind. Heeeere goblin goblin goblin ..._


  • _Well, this is an interesting thought.

    I just got finished talking with Mystic, and I realized something. I just might be crazy.

    In the past week, I've been part of groups that did the following.

    -Cleared the Sewers and Barrows rather thoroughly
    -Repulsed an attack on Peltarch's western tower
    -Defeated an orc leader and got his weapon as a trophy, once cleansed
    -Repulsed two massive gate attacks, each lasting the better part of a day or night, and coming in multiple waves
    -Acquired 4 displacer beast hides, and fought hooked horrors, skin dancers, and magic eaters, as well as said displacer beasts
    -Attended a wedding!
    -Cleared the lake, and eastern woods, as well as the graveyard with just me and Ardent, again, including disrupting what seemed to be an ambush

    The list goes on… but still. All that this week, and I'm worried about parents?

    Yeah. I might have taken one too many hits to the head.

    I'm ready. Be it tomorrow or next year, dammit I'm ready._


  • _I can't decide if I feel frustrated, silly, or justified in my ang- well, annoyance? What's the word for this, anyway?

    I wandered into the sewers solo when I hit Peltarch today, since there was nothing going on elsewhere in the city that I could involve myself in, and I wasn't in much of a drinking mood. I'm trying not to touch my gold pouch til I give Loc back what's his. I'm sure I'll see him eventually.

    The first thing I came across, oddly enough, was a Cult Priest. Red light surrounded me, and blood was rushing from my nose and ears, old cuts re-opened, and everything just -hurt- for what seemed like forever, but I'm sure was only a second.

    Talk about seeing red.

    Little bastard was hiding behind a gate, which didn't respond to my pulling or pushing on it, so for once, I decided not to break something down, and I waited for him to use a key on it around a corner, barely dodging around the corner in time to break his line of sight for the spell, his words clipping off with a frustrated curse word, as opposed to a proper curse.

    I heard him beating on the gate, once, twice … after about the 10th ineffectual strike, I went in for the kill. I wasn't about to leave him there til some stronger pal of his broke it down, and they cast that crap on the guards above, or some less hardy adventurer. The pillars holding the gate left plenty of cover for him to keep him safe from arrows, or axes, too.

    That left the gate.

    I charged in, struck it down in two strikes, and managed to cleave him completely in half in two strikes. That golden sword sure can cut! I'll have to be sure to bring Ardent something nice again.

    I cleared the rest of the area, and came around the back entrance to the room with the gate I broke, and Rath, Celia, and others were there before me. There was scarcely a "Hi Cecil" before I was being questioned about ... the gate.

    The gate which costs 286 gold to replace when you go to the city hall with the woman you love because she "Talked to you already about breaking city property," even when she's proud of you for doing the right thing. That being paying for the damage, of course.

    I can't help but think it slightly silly. Sure, there's some degree of sense to it, and I was told that they don't have a key to it, so it keeps above-ground safe from them, but I'm pretty sure I got around it by means of a few passages around the side ... but I'm not that great with below-ground directions.

    Maybe I'll check into it next time I'm there. Still ... while I can see both sides of this picture, I'm still a bit annoyed. At the city, or the cultist, I think. I know Ashena was just doing what she's used to, and must as a knight of the order and a paladin and a city whatever she is to them ... so I'm not annoyed at her. Still ... I cannot imagine thinking about 'rules' all the time.

    Action is what counts.

    Right?_


  • _Back from my walk, and little has changed. There are things I should have done before, like let Ashena know I was going, like let Norwick know I was taking a break, but there wasn't hardly anybody here in the ranks, and Ashena was busy. Still, I should have written a letter at least. I -did- learn to write for a reason, after all.

    Upon my return, I made sure that Bub's stuff was in order, he's still healthy and happy as I knew he would be, and then went to the gates. Patrol would be in a couple hours, when dawn broke, so I figured I could start right back up where I left off.

    I was not expecting Maria.

    As she was headed home at about the same time I was headed out, she laid some protections on me, and when I say some, I mean -all of them.- Victoria joined me, and we walked south, then east, to find the Hobgoblins.

    We didn't see any serious resistance, or anything suspicious, til we neared the Northernmost cave. It was then that we encountered quite a large group of Raiders, backed by mages, who all seemed hell bent on keeping us from the cave.

    We made quick work of them indeed, and headed in, to more of the usual. The War Drummer has a sizeable force with him, but with Maria and Victoria's spells upon me, I was able to use my greatsword, the big golden one, and he fell in only a couple strikes.

    I found out that they have a throne in there too. A big great ugly stone thing. With the blessings on me, and that great big sword, I said to myself that only the Lion is king, and split it in half with a single strike, to watch the two halves fall and crumble to the sides.

    We headed home and chit chatted about things all the while, and were even joined by Nyda. Seems like a nice gal, she even re-mastered some old skills she had while she was out with us.

    Then, to Peltarch.

    Ashena, she was standing at the Commons when I arrived, as radiant and beautiful as ever, speaking with Celia, who was looking splendid in her Order armor as well. Rath arrived next with his … pet ... jelly. I =still= don't know that to think about that.

    Ashena and I caught up for a little while before I left to write my report and get some more rest. It's amazing how tired you can get when fighting with so many spells, then having them drop off. You get used to it sometimes, I guess.

    At any rate, I'm going to go rejoin Ashena outside, and see about those plans. If Aymon doesn't hurry, he won't have to worry about it at all._