3. Samson Swarthout: Chronicles of a Gentle Giant

Samson Swarthout: Chronicles of a Gentle Giant


  • _He Who Lurks in Shadows crept cautiously along the remains of the Old North Wall on a dark moonless night. His eyes, one of the few benefits he appreciated from his orcish side, were keenly adapted to nights when ordinarily it was so dark a human couldn't see their hand in front of their face.

    In a crouch, moving slowly so that his armor would not clink and jingle, he reached the crumbling end of the wall and peered around in a crouch. Far off on the distance he could make out a few human forms, two sitting, one standing, all facing towards the road leading north to Jiyyd.

    He hefted a throwing axe in his hand a moment and judged the distance… "Too far," he thought. Silently he circled them at about 150 yards until he was behind them. His wary gaze did not focus on them, he knew where they were, instead he picked his steps carefully, his heavy frame would shatter twigs and even small logs. He also gazed often, sweeping 270 degrees to keep track of his surroundings. As he edged into range he noticed another silhouette, standing partially hidden near a tree and as he stopped. He sniffed. The pungent odor of urine filled his nostrils.

    Him first, he thought. Moving as quickly as he dared to within 50 yards, he brought the axe far behind his shoulder. Squinting into the night, he judged the range, and could tell this one was a magic user, his thin clothing betraying his role. As the man finished his business with the tree, he turned slightly, presenting a frontal target as he secured himself.

    The axe was stayed just long enough for the man to regain his dignity before it crashed into his chin, cleaving it in half and burying itself into his neck, completely sealing the airway. The impact knocked the man unconscious instantly, and he pitched backwards without so much as a twitch. The wound itself did not kill him; he suffocated to death unconscious as the axe blocked the airway.

    "Did you hear that?" The voices carried from the other three as the wind changed again, blowing towards the giant shadow skulking in the darkness.

    "Damned fool probably passed out again," from the seated male.

    "He said he had to 'go.'" A standing female.

    "Probly meant 'e hadda git another li'l nip in if ye ask me!"

    "Let him sleep it off- we dont need him. 'ell, no one's comin' down this road tonight. Too dark, and they know we're out here. They'll come out with their precious gold tommorow morning at the earliest," the man bemoaned."

    The woman seated next to him cursed. "An' it'll be somebody else's shift then!" She muttered something incoherent, then said, "Oo, da 'ell is makin' up these shifts!? I git the night shaft all the time. I got 'BILLS' ta pay y'know!?" Her hands gestured strangely and it was apparent she meant personal debts, perhaps wagers.

    The standing woman coo'd slightly, her speech was more refined than the seated woman's. "Oh... I know." She smiled and giggled.

    "Who?" Said the man dryly. "I'd like to know too. I've been stuck out here more than my fair share as well. I'd like to know whose in charge of planning these little things. I know it aint Denakin, he just relays for someone else. The sod we have to give up a cut too."

    She smiled down at them as she stood behind them and turned her back to them coyly, reveling in the slight power of her knowledge, "Oh, no... its NOT Denakin at all, dear. Its-"

    THUMP. Her body gave a spastic twitch and her chin dropped to her chest to see a metal handle protruding from between her breasts- the axe head having cleaved her heart in two. She crumpled to her knees, staring at the handle, tears welling in the corner of her eyes from pain, shock and the knowledge that only seconds of her life remained.

    The other two jumped to their feet quickly as the mortally wounded woman turned around, face filled with panic, as if one of them could aid her now. She continued to twist around towards them and fell on her side face down, legs still tucked into a kneel.

    "HELLS!" the man cried out. Another axe sung through the air, an invisible missile of life stealing devastation seeming to materialize from nothingness in the deep, dark night.

    A dull thud and a sharply exhaled breath from the force announced the arrival of this axe into the other woman's soft stomach. It was thrown with such strength that it broke her lower spine after it traveled through the soft organs.

    She too crumpled to the ground quietly.

    The male bandit, still having not seen the attacker, knew not where to attack, so he blindly ran for the tree to provide him a bit of cover while he tried to see his enemy, still hidden in the protective covering of the depths of this night. He felt the chill of the air as he ran for the tree, the terror and cold raising goosebumps on his arms. Just before he reached it he stopped short at the sight of the mage with a throwing axe imbedded into his face.

    That sudden stop saved his life.

    His halt meant that the thrower's lead was off, and the axe glanced off his forehead, throwing him to the ground. Stars exploded and the man writhed on the ground with the pain of a fracture to his skull. Blood dripped freely from the deep wound to the scalp. The bandit kept his presence of mind and disciplined himself to lay still, as if the axe had indeed killed him.

    He steadied his breathing to slow deep regular breaths, squinting his eyes hard with the pain and relaxing them enough to see through the blood.
    The night stars granted only a tiny bit of light, but he could hear something moving towards him. It was large, with heavy footsteps. As if materializing out of thin air, a great beast strode forth on two legs, a mighty shield on its arm and what looked like a greatsword wielded lightly in one hand. The man saw for the first and last time... He Who Lurks in Shadows.

    Reaching slowly for his short sword, still wracked with pain from the wound on his head, he looked to where the eyes should be. He saw a pale blue reflection from them, as if lit up from the inside, but the rest was a giant, black silhouette. His hand stopped moving towards his sword.

    "No... please, no!" He begged. He could only hear the silent breathing of the shadow, as the bluish eyes stared down at him with... sadness?

    "Please... spare me!" He pleaded, suddenly beleiving he might actually be spared.

    The bandit realized it was not a god or a demon come to claim him, but a brute of incredible size and proportion. It sighed deeply, almost tiredly.

    Then it spoke.

    "Surry."

    Its voice was deep and resonating, but softened and quiet. As if capable of a thunderous volume, but reserved and timid.

    Gripping his forhead, to keep the blood from running into his eyes the fallen bandit pleaded further, "I have a family! I am just trying to feed them!" It was a lie, but he doubted the creature would know that.

    The creature shuddered a moment, as if a sob wracked the massive bulk.

    A long silent pause broke the stillness as the creature thought.

    "Yuh...." A longer pause. "So did Sam."

    The man blinked as more blood trailed into his eyes and he never saw the swing that separated his head from his body.

    He Who Lurks in Shadows looked up and turned around to scan the area a full 360 degrees to look for more bandits that may have been missed. His eyes spotted somone on the road-

    He started. A surreal visage stunned him. Shocked and unable to speak for a moment as he watched a lithe female running down the road in the distance, too far to be madeout clearly but... It could not be! His heart lept for a moment! Was it Narawien? His lost love from before Narfell?

    He took a step towards the road, and then another. It was not Narawien, but rather Lilliana and Scutum at her side, running swiftly down the road towards Jiyyd.

    As he moved closer to see them more clearly he stepped on something. It was the outstretched hand of the first bandit woman, axe still in her chest. He looked to her face and it stared back at him with a frightenly familiar countenance.

    It was Safinaz.

    "Where were you, Sam?" She accused. Shock and spiritual agony struck him like thunder. His mouth opened to answer but another female voice stopped him. It was Nourjehan's.

    "We needed you, Sam. Where were you when we needed you?" He turned to see the other bandit woman with the axe in her belly, clutching it, but it was Nour's face that he saw.

    "Where is OUR Justice, Sam, or has Tyr abandoned you?" This voice was male, the familiar voice of the Paladin Malek Terebrae, and it came from the recently cleaved head. It had come to rest, staring at him accusingly.

    He Who Lurks in Shadows backed away, terrified and confused, mouth working silently to answer, but the conflict of emotions and confusion of these events were overwhelming him quickly.

    "How, Sam, could you have served Helm for so long and fail to be there for us? Where was the Guardian when we needed him?" It was the final taunt, the voice of Darian Stalwart coming from the fallen mage now speaking with a wide, gaping split in its mouth._

    Sam awoke with a scream of terror.

    Instantly he curled into a ball on the sleeping mat provided by the inn. He wept silently until morning, shaking uncontrollably and rocking back and forth. His sobs were heavy with greif.

    It was all a dream. Just a dream he tried to tell himself. But the similarity to the night's events and the realism of the faces and voices mixed in the dream gripped his heart like a cold gauntleted hand inside him.

    Images of everyone he had known in his life, Brother John, David Stalwart, and all of his friends he had made in his lifetime haunted him behind his closed eyelids. The haunted him, because they were all dead.

    They haunted him for the remaining hours before dawn.

    "STOP!" He stood and gripped his head tightly, as if to squeeze out the visions in his mind.

    He stumbled out of the inn room, eyes red and puffy, fiercely eager for the feel of bright sunshine on his face.


  • NEW ENTRY

    I wonder which of them, a choice between Ms Jenna, Ms Khaya and Mr Cehul, blessed me. Since the other day when I goaded the well to end my existence, failing of course, I have had unprecedented success!

    It is as if suddenly, due course had been paid, my trials completed and fate has determined that I am here to stay.

    Last night I attempted and succeeded at something that four days ago I would have shuddered to even think about. I went out the north gate and routed every bandit I could find just to the north. There were many- as if the militia never patrolled the area! And they hid in every cranny of terrain they could. But as I owe so many citizens for helping me, I thought perhaps the first way I could repay them would be to keep the Nars pass free of their brigandry.

    I did not give them a chance to depart. Instead I snuck upon those that wear their colors and hurled my axes with deadly accuracy, those that did not flee were smitten. Allbeit it was a difficult task for me, which left me tired, weak and somewhat wounded from the exertion, but I succeeded.

    When I awoke this morning, before I dressed I noticed that with all of this effort I am visibly stronger- a bit leaner, and I can shoulder a heavier bag of goblin's clubs today.

    My old skill with herbs is returning as the leaves become more and more familiar to me. I have succeeded in saving six lives since I nearly gave up my own.

    It is apparent to me that my equipment is shoddy however. This banded mail is functional, but I have the strength to wear plate and must aquire some if I expect to fair decently against these brigands in the future. It was a near thing against them several times. I also require a larger shield so that I may hide behind it when groups of them come upon me.

    Most disturbingly, I need a new hand and a half sword. It is my chosen weapon, but alarmingly to me it will not harm the were-creatures running about. This very nearly cost Ms Scutum her life when a were-creature attacked her and I could do nothing to it save distract it from its attacks.

    Having made trips to Peltarch, I know these things are beyond my means. So I have come to the decision that I will appeal to the militia, even though those within their ranks demonstrate cruelty and injustice daily and I do not wish to be associated with them. I have made my opinions known to them as well, and this may not work for my favor.

    My reputation among the people may aid me however. I can only hope that those that know me support my petition to join the militia, for they know that I would bear the authority with fairness. I have been a guard in the past, it should not be a stretch, and perhaps I can teach the zealots a thing or two of compassion and fairness.

    If I am accepted into the militia, it will greatly enhance my ability to patrol the Nars pass and keep those damned brigands, the same ones that killed Ms Safi, Ms Nour and Mr Malek, in check. Their acts most certainly have sown the seeds of justice and it is time they reap it. And they shall, even if I am to meet them dressed in hand-me-down armor and a rusted blade.

    Last night was just a taste of the vengeful fire that comes to them for killing my innocent friends. I ventured further north with Mr Emerus and I know that those zealots, the ones they call Faithful, are still beyond me, but not for long. As soon as I am able, the faith of these Faithful will know a great test.

    Whether I patrol the north, keeping the Nars safe, or I patrol south in the goblin woods safeguarding our youths, I will make my presence known in these places, and lives shall be saved, for a new protector has arrived.

    In a few months there shall no doubt be a large population in Norwick that owes their lives to Sam, as there is one wizard halfling that already does. What an embarrassment to the militia if Sam still wears this tattered armor and poor quality sword, yet dares to regularly tread north to save lives outside the town, while the 'real' militia chases barbarians who wont take off a helm or wizards who walk in the company of a dog. What a further embarrassment when Sam must explain that the militia terrorizing the citizens in the town, refused Sam, forcing Sam to do a job they do not.

    Just yesterday, a militia member demanded Mr Meroido get rid of his dog. Now this dog was loyal, disciplined and only left his side to kill stray goblins that got too close. But this was EVIL!? It would seem that the goblins had an ally in this militiawoman. Evil is as evil does, and blood or color of clothing do not make a man.

    When will the militia finally learn to see with their hearts and not their eyes?

    Answer: If Sam is a member, they will.

    If Sam is accepted, perhaps I can restore the people's broken faith in the militia to protect them.

    And if accepted, when next Ms Scutum searches for belladonna to help the whole of Norwich, I will be able to protect her this time.


  • hugs You are awesome Sam. Really you are.


  • God forbid I actually reach level 7 with him and have access to the minimun # of feats and stats it takes to RP him correctly.

    No matter HOW many times Sam gets killed off (lets see, we are on Samson v 7.0 now?) He will come back.

    hark!? Is that an audible groan from the DM's?

    All of the Xyrastalis refugees may have quit the server, but Dammit! I am mightier than this server!! You people are going to be FORCED to RP with Sam in your environment- even if you all are level 20 and Im still level 1!

    (lets just say I dont actually ROLEPLAY sam's stubborness eh?)


  • This is great stuff Sam. You have taken the loss and rather than quit, have turned it into a character altering event. I applaud your efforts and your writing.


  • NEW ENTRY

    As with everything else in this awful place, even the magic of the well would not favor me. It seems it is quite happy acting up of its own accord and killing those that would not wish to die, but woe be to those that wish it to end their existence, for it will not cooperate.

    I would have thrown myself into the well, but damn my size, I do not fit into it!!!

    Instead I kicked it, cursed at it and begged it on fallen knee to finish me once and for all. Like every other attempt I have made in this cursed town, I failed. I could not even evoke a spark of wrath from it.

    I rested against it, tired of living. Tired of expending myself in efforts where the fruits of my labors are meaningless.

    I am not sure if Ms Jenna is a blessing or a curse. I am not sure if Mr Cehul is a blessing or a curse. Together they sat with me and listened as I recanted the sum of my troubles since arriving here. I still tried to anger the well into consuming me, but it still would not listen. Instead only Mr Cehul and Ms Jenna would listen. Even Ms Khaya came to listen. Together the group of them would not just let me be alone to die. They would not grant me peace.

    Instead they seem to think I should continue living. They say Sam has a purpose and a reason to go on, but for the life of me I cannot think what it could be. I am only a liability anymore. Who can I help when I cannot even help myself?

    Together they gave me the means to support myself again, and in fact replaced many of the belongings which had been stolen from me. But I am still left with the abilities of a youth. My hands shake nervously when I even handle a bag of medicine, as if I had not ever saved a single life in my many days. How can I ever hope to aid another life when I subsist soley on the mercy of others.

    Something shall keep me alive. Long enough to see repayment of the treacherous deeds inflicted upon me in my haste to aid you two young women. If anything, Sam has a long memory Ms Elrien. Your first act of kindness to a stranger is far outweighed by the injustice of you and your friend.

    I shall live to see the day when you too are fallen, and then I shall take YOUR gold, and the belongings of your 'friend' to repay the kindness of those who aided me at the well.

    Some said that you had a kind heart. Sam sees differently. The influence of your friend sways you in a direction that belies what those around you may believe.

    As much as greif desires that I act as you both did, selfishly, and scorn another in their time of need, I shall NOT!! I will not inflict your acts on another; I will continue to help those that I can, however I can. But know that I will live for the day when I see your faces, forever stained in my mind, bloodied and in need of MY kindess and I shall return your favor to your tenfold. From your loss on this world Sam will take what is yours and use it to aid others.

    I know much of justice. I was empowered by Tyr himself in the past to meter it out. I was a judge, elected by the citizens of a town because of their faith in what lies in my heart! I know fairness and compassion and I WILL see that it is given to those that derserve it… and WITHELD from those that dont!

    I shall see that when fate finally serves you both justice, Sam is there to ensure that you receive it fairly. Not by my hand will I do this, no... that would be revenge, and Sam does not meter such or stoop so low. No... let fate take you and Sam shall merely ensure that justice is served.

    It would pain Ms Jenna to see Sam be malicious to another, as you were to me. So I will continue to live as is my nature, and the nature that those around me know and expect.

    But Sam's list of enemies grows long. There are now several names written on the back of this book. And what does it take to become Sam's enemy? Only for Sam to witness cruelty at your hand.

    GO AHEAD! ALL YOU CITIZENS OF NARFELL!! Live cruely. Inflict your jealousness, selfishness, and hatred upon each other! If Ms Jenna and the others want Sam to live this cruel land of Narfell then Sam will Live allright! And wherever I find cruelty I shall repay it- ten fold! Where ever I find selfishness, I shall find a theif to reward you, and I shall pay him for his success! Wherever I find hatred, I shall find a greater hate and bring it to you, so that you may savor the sweetness of contempt, the fullfillment of mockery, the jubilations of defeat!

    In my life, wherever I have invested the goodness in my heart, I have failed. If I cannot survive on the merits of my compassion then I perhaps I must live wholly differently.

    Where I have loved, I have always lost.

    Where I have hated, I have always succeeded.

    So perhaps I must change. Perhaps I must reacquaint myself with my orcish kin to find the means within me to live like this.

    I know I renounced it long ago, that I was not an orc. That I was more than just an orc, a being bent on destruction, hatred of life and inflicting misery. Perhaps I have lived my life as a lie. Perhaps I have never been capable of a life as a human. So perhaps I must accept what I am, an orc and evil at heart. And instead of being human with a taint, I am orcish, yet I still have a taint. So my taint shall be that I am incapable of crimes against the unworthy. But beware those I feel no compassion for, for I have lived a LIFELONG lesson of cruelty, and am become its master.

    The difficulties of Narfell, compounded by the loss of his longtime, compassionate friends and a lack of a divine influence to keep him on the straight and narrow begin to change Sam in a way that he is loath to accept

    (once again.. level 1, but this time Samson Swarthout progresses as a changed man. Will PC's be able to restore Sam's faith in the side of the light? Or will he continue to turn away from it?)
    Isnt True Neutral Alignment grand?


  • NEW ENTRY

    This land is a curse!!! I was keeping the goblin masses in check, when I came across two women who ventured further south! Now I have had many many warnings from the more senior citizens of Norwick not to proceed to the south and so I called after them to stop but they were too far ahead of me.

    I ran after them, having never been so far south myself and unsure of what to expect. But when I did catch up with them, they were locked ina brutal fight with several bugbears. One of the ladies took a serious blow and she staggered back. I fired twice with my bow, but my aim has never been legendary. The bugbear took after her to smite her, and I placed myself between them to save her.

    All I can say is, bugbears in this land are NOT like the bugbears I am used to. I saw the axe come at me, and then blackness. Ah yes… I had been sent to another plane. I fumed angrily, but hoped that my efforts had not been in vain, perhaps giving the lady precious seconds of life to recover herself. But no... as most of my deeds in this cursed land, my efforts WERE in vain, as she appeared next to me.

    I recognized her then, as Ms Elrien. She had given me directions to various locations on my first day in Norwick. I had told her then I would not forget her actions that day, I did not know that I would be trading my life for hers down the road. But alas it was not quite a trade, for she had fallen as well.

    I asked her if her remaining friend would be able to take care of us, but she acted strange, as if knowing something I did not. She said her friend... Tam something? was 'different.' Quite alarming for someone wishing to return to the land of the living.

    As it turns out, my gold had been stolen and this friend of Elrien used it to return her to the living. I dont know if Elrien took my gold or not but I know that I had 1305 when I fell.

    Left alone in the fugue, pondering my existence, I decided I had no choice but to make a deal with the succubus who finds her pleasure in stripping some of the soul from those who are lost.

    I ran naked directly to where I had fallen and encountered this woman, who, when caught red handed returned some of my belongings... it would seem she returned only what she could not find a use for. My weapons, potions, medicines, and gold were not among them.

    Enlisting the aid of two others, I went after what might be left in by bag. Oh, sweet injustice. As if their lack of compassion were not enough, they had drug this hellacious bugbear behind them and I ran headlong into it's axe. The goblin's looked on with jealous anticipation, happy to see a mighty bugbear defending them for a change.

    I made a final deal with the succubus again, knowing full well that I had nothing left to recover, and the heinous fiend sucked the last of my strength from me. I once again was returned to the well in Norwick with only rags to cover me.

    Depression? Yes. My friends from Xyrastalis are all dead, I have no companionship left to me. I have lost all of my strength. All of my personal wealth. I am left with nothing. I have become nothing.

    This is my final enty. I will taunt this well until it consumes me with it's fire, for there is nothing left for me to live for. I will not become a beggar and a drain on this city. My life has been spent in service to others, and I cannot fathom a life holding out my hand for the pity of others.


  • NEW ENTRY
    Nothing left. Am I to outlive all those that should outlive me?
    Ms Safi and Nour were found dead in the Nars, their bodies beyond any aid.
    The Paladin Malek Terebrae also has fallen. It would seem now that I am alone in this forsaken country. This place was only bearable by the presence of my friends. Now… there is nothing of worth here. I exist why? To watch so many whose lives should extend long beyond my own be snuffed out by the chaotic forces of evil and horrible circumstance.

    Im going back to bed and not coming out until my money runs out.
    The only good news is Mr Fallon has arrived, but we were never close he and I. Never have had a rogue for a friend. But at least there is one face that is familiar.

    There are others here that I have begun to take notice of.

    Ms Jenna- a wonderful soul, one I would spend more time with if she were not so darned busy all the time

    Mr Kanen- a paladin, kind, but surrounded by a circle of friends which I am not a part

    Ms Lilli- something oddly familiar about that woman that draws me to be her friend and I dont know why

    Ms Shyrae- poor girl. Her mind does her no justice. I beleive is inflicts pain on her just to experience it. She is often scared or in tears and I have no idea why. Ms Lilli will not discuss it.

    Ms Khaya- I believe I will find a good friend in her. We seem to get along well anyway.

    Mr Stealth- Strange elf indeed, but generous to others. It seems he makes something of a living escorting people back and forth between the towns.

    Mr Damarl- a chaotic drunkard, unreliable in the best of times, but when circumstances are their most dire, I would have him with me.

    Mr Bruno- shares my blood, and as much as I detest our lesser halves, he seems likeable enough. But trust? I will never trust our kind, whether it be half blooded, quarter blooded, it does not matter. The vileness of our taint is forever.

    Ms Scutum is ever cheerful and always a joy to see. I wish little Tisha was here. Ms Scutum makes me miss her all the more.

    Mr Ashen- has proved most helpful, but there is somethink darkly familiar about him that prevents my trust, when I know that his deeds should have earned it. I cannot place it, but it is alarmingly familiar.

    Perhaps amongst these I shall have to find friends anew, as all of mine seem to now be dead. Im going back to bed. Wake me when my purse is empty.


  • **sorry was meant to be a pm to sam delete if can 😜 **


  • NEW ENTRY
    There is a well in town that causes much trouble with some form of magic within it. Strange things happen in this town often. It randomly teleports us, sometimes feet, sometimes miles away. It can even kill with its eruptions. I dont see why people even sit at the benches near it.

    NEW ENTRY
    The goblins dont carry much wealth but after so many, I had enough gold to warrant a trip to Peltarch to purchase a better shield. I went with a large group that also wanted to shop there.

    We made it to Peltarch without much trouble, but the citizens there are as rude as the guards in Norwich! They demanded I cover my face. Oh my, imagine my surprise at yet another, "you are ugly" comment.

    Mr Ashen gave me a helm to wear which pacified them, but their laws seem unjust and discriminatory. I shopped in peace, got my tower shield and prepared to leave. Peltarch is just another scum of the earth town where evil and corruption is allowed to fester and grow. I sensed from the other citizens that even the holy leaders have fallen from grace by the worldly temptations of that place.

    I am beginning to think Jiyyd would be a better home. Away from the discriminations of Peltarch, and the chaotic dangers of Norwich. Jiyyd is quiet and remote and there is at least one person there that would be glad to see me daily.

    So now I sit by the gates waiting for my traveling companions to return. It has been some time, and I suppose they are living it up in some tavern somewhere. As if I could waltz in order an and ale and what… remove my helm to drink it!? Gods forbid I scare someone.

    NEW ENTRY
    On the return from Peltarch I was severely wounded by a fire archer. They look just like bandits until their flaming arrow lodges in your body, and then, it is too late to escape them.

    Luckily I recovered from that fairly well, only to be taken down by them the next day while defending a fortification being built on the outskits of town. The Peltarch government saw to my medical needs, but the experience leaves me in a dire state of disrepair. I grow weaker and weaker every day it seems. Im going to spend a little money and stay in bed for a time.


  • NEW ENTRY

    We have arrived! They say this is the land of Narfell.
    Whatever it is, I am now a registered citizen of a town called Norwich and the caravan departs in a few minutes. I bought a book in which to write. My old loose papers show the wear of time.

    Perhaps I will find where everyone went to. I was asleep on the ship when we arrived and everyone must have departed in their haste, but left me no clues as to their whereabouts.

    NEW ENTRY
    Arrived in Norwich. No one I know is here. I met a nice halfling, Ms Scutum. Earned a few coins helping her chop trees and carry the logs. Easy work, but doesnt yield much coin. I fear she gave me more than she should have. She reminds me alot of Ms Tisha, which is odd because normally halflings annoy the hells out of me. Well meaning usually, if they arent theives, but just so…. hyper. Well if she is any indication of the citizens here, I should be well off.

    NEW ENTRY
    DOWN WITH THE GUARDS! This town has the most horrible contingent of guards I have ever encountered. It is a pack of Dwarves, very stout, who manage a sentence or two of threats before they pull their axes and speak in swings.

    I went out of the north gate to explore the surroundings and was immediately set upon by a theif! Lacking a weapon or armor, I had no choice but to defend myself against him and his short sword. Unpleasant as it was I beat him senseless with my hands. Blessing and a curse, this strength of mine it seems.

    Angry at him, I took his belongings and wore his armor into town as a sign to others that I do not wish to be trifled with. I am getting too old to run around like a child. It would be better to die than to continue living afraid of others. Perhaps my experiences have given me new confidence. I know now that I can succeed on my own, given a chance! The hard part is getting that chance.

    A guard approached me and told me to remove my armor almost as soon as I entered town. I refused. The padding was the sum total of my wealth and I had very nearly been killed by the man that wore it! With my refusal however, the dwarf drew his axe and swung at me. Stout buggers. The blow nearly knocked me down, but he backed away as if to give me a chance to rethink my position. I dont know what his problem was, but it most likely had nothing to do with the armor. I told him where he could go and walked out the southern gate to examine my injuries.

    Later that same day, I walked into town, wearing clothes this time. I saw another one of these malicious dwarves litterally hacking up a body in the street! I cannot express the anger I felt! How dare these creatures be granted the power of authority and be called a militia! I ran to the body and hefted it out of the way of the dwarf's axe just before he cleaved an arm off. I have no idea who this person was or what they did to deserve being killed in the streets, but perhaps the dwarf didnt like the color of his armor as well.

    Once again I was ordered to do something I had no intention of doing.
    "Put it down, Halfer." They said.
    I was angry that they would show such brutality in the streets, and then when I show mercy to the fallen, the bastards had the gall, even in the eyes of a small crowd to resort to threats, names and violence. I didnt see the one that got me from behind, but I woke up in jail.

    It took long hours of arguing, but I would rather rot in jail for defending someone than live life free knowing I did nothing to help the helpless. Eventually they released me. I dont know why they detest 'Drow' so much, but I still consider it a crime to attack someone for their blood. I cannot help what runs through my own veins as much as anyone else can help theirs. I heard from the townsfolk later that this 'Drow' had done nothing more than walk down a street in this town where he was ambushed and killed by these sickeningly cruel dwarves.

    I cannot abide them, but there are too many, and they are too strong to do much with. Life for them here must be easy, they are in excellent shape and proficient fighters. If not for recovering from my own wounds from the Horde, I am sure I could teach them the meaning of fairness and mercy.

    The townsfolk here talk about them often, they too are disgruntled at their violence and cruel natures. They herd the populace like cattle, speaking to them like dogs.

    NEW ENTRY
    Ive found Ms Safinaz, Ms Nourjehan and Mr Malek Terebrae the paladin. I see them often and it is refreshing to see familiar faces, even if they do appear a bit gaunt from the recent stresses.

    NEW ENTRY
    The goblins in the south are a menace, their soldiers seem to predict my actions and counter me with startling precision. Apparently I am not the only one. The resident healer came to the square asking for help finding herbs necessarry to keep his healing stores up. In fact, the healer approached me personally as he heard me discussing herbs with some others. Naturally, I agreed to help a man who is in service to others.

    We were to travel to Jiyyd to fetch some roots and belladonna for him. One of these insidient town guards, another dwarf, insinuated himself into our party and placed himself 'in charge' of the expedition. He was an able fighter, surely, but his brash nature and demands of do this do that were certainly unwelcome.

    We arrived in Jiyyd and went to the local healers to see what stores they had. One of my blood greeted us... I believe she greeted me more warmly than the rest. Her demeanor was... fresh, in the politest of terms. She told us she too was out of these same herbs but knew where we could find some, and asked us to return some to her if we could. I hadn't the heart to tell her no.

    We stretched on to the east and encountered orcs. Something about orcs, they fall easily to my hands. I dont believe they defended the roots we sought exactly, just their hatred for all life other than their own. Their sentiments were returned in kind however and we left their bodies to rot in the sun. We found enough for Norwich, but I encouraged the group onward to fulfill my pledge to Jiyyd to provide them with what they needed.

    I would have done it alone, but Ms Safi and Nour, bless them, they would follow me wherever I go. The dwarf naturally, cretins that they are proving to be, wanted to return to Norwich and collect his payment. Begrudged he continued with us until we had enough for both cities.

    We returned to the Jiyyd healer and the task 'fell' to me, much to the amusement of the others, to deliver the items to the woman in the healers hut. I cannot tell you how much this pained me, I was torn between the desire to accept another's attention, but at the same time Nara is still so close to my heart and it has been such a short time since I lost her. I still dont even know if she survived or if her beloved body lies - the writing stops abruptly

    I cannot even think it.

    I pushed away from the woman's attentions, and I sensed that it hurt her. Perhaps she is indeed a sweet being with a gentle heart, but so am I and my heart has no place for her. Her or any other for that matter. Perhaps in time that will change, but perhaps also in time, I will find my Narawien again, even if her love was never returned to mine.

    Enough of that, I can sob myself silly some other time. We retuned to Norwich, collected a modest payment for our efforts. As much as doing good deeds is important to me, I accepted the payment knowing that in the future I will have to purchase those same healing supplies that we risked our lives against orcs for to save others in need.

    Now as I recall our adventure today, I can hardly tear my mind from the thoughts of Nara, wondering where she is and if she's allright. And my heart beckons me to wonder if I did not shun a good person based on her blood, or the true feelings of my heart?


  • A new chapter opens now.

    No one knows who was responsible or how it happened. The city fell.
    Sam was caught in the forsest by the Iron Horde and fought their vanguard in the night with a strength once again not his own.

    The mighty fighter defended his people, their homes, his city and his love. In the next few hours Samson Swarthout lived as the epitome of a follower of Torm.

    The Loyal, the Foolish, the Brave.

    For Sam's loyalty to his city and his friends, his foolish disregard for his safety while opposing an army, and his bravery as he fought them in a retreating battle to the gates of the city, Torm lent his power to Sam that night.

    Torm had always been the god that Sam most closely followed in his personaly beleifs, but he had always been in the service of Helm, or Tyr and had little time to consider Torm. Perhaps if Sam had learned of him at a young age, he might have become a Paladin of Torm, but those young impressionable days were long past.

    Sam did not have the faith required, but he still had the heart.

    The sheer number of the scouts was overwhelming and Sam found himself trading ground for time. The battle began about two miles from the gates of the city, and within an hour, as Sam had vowed, he found his back to the closed city gates, bloody sword in hand, as the sole defender in the night. His predictions had come true, the Horde had come for what they truly wanted and diplomacy was long gone as an option.

    He could see the edge of the forest across the farmland explode with thousands of orcs. It would only take them seconds to reach the last remaining scouts that had encircled Sam, pinning him to the city gate. There was no escape now, the gate was not openable from the outside at night.

    As Sam leaned his tired body a moment on the gates, he paused for a moment of rest before he threw himself into the army, to kill in a rage as many as he could before they overwhelmed him.

    Suddenly, the gates opened behind him and he fell backwards into the city. He was drug inside quickly and the gates rebarred again. The lights were out, and he could hear yelling in the distance. The alarm had been sounded for some time.

    "Come, Sam! We are evacuating the city!"

    Sam felt weak a moment. Where would they go? He rose and followed his friends in the dark, unsure of who they were in the darkness and there was no time to ask. There seemed to be a group of twenty carrying very little rushing towards the docks.

    They had only covered a a few blocks before the mighty east gate was shattered by the Horde's battering ram. How quickly they had gotten it to the front. Even as Sam delayed the advance of the scouts, the army proper had caught up and was literally on their heels.

    The orcs poured into the city like water, encompassing the blocks of the city like ants in a nest. Soon nearly thirty were chasing the last few escapees. When they reached the docks, the mooring lines were being cast off and the sails were already unfurled and full. Archers on the deck provided cover as a mage sent his most powerful spells into the midst of the attackers.

    Sam heard the pounding of feet right behind him and whirled, cutting an orc in half at the waist and wounding the one to his left in a single slice. Sam looked up the dock and could see yet another mass charging.

    "Come, Sam! Jump!" Sam turned to see the ship pulling away from the dock. He ripped off his helm, dropped his sword and sprinted for the edge of the dock. As he did, he unfastened the leather straps holding the heaviest peices of his armor and let them clatter in a trail of pieces behind him. When Sam cried out with the exertion of his leap to the ship, he had only his gauntlets and leggings left to him. His bag, weapons, supplies and gold were all left behind on the dock.

    With his possessions, he left behind his one and only love, never knowing if she was alive or dead. Had she been found in the forest? Would she be able to find her own escape? It seemed to Sam, as he watched the dock fill with victorious orcs, that he had abandoned his whole life on that dock.

    One again, Samson Swarthout had lost everything and become a wandering refugee bound for an unknown destination.

    Sam looked around him. He saw Eva Saints, Malek Terebrae, Nourjehan, Safinaz, Tisha Skittlesworth, and Ther Adams. Perhaps others had left on the other ships he thought as he slipped down against the railing. Soon he was in a saddened dreamworld as fatigue took him.

    And that…. is how Samson Swarthout, Judge of Xyrastalis and Honorary Member of the Orders of Helm and Tyr, came to the land of Narfell.

    (any questions?)


  • NEW ENTRY
    Nara found me easily. Not surprising that she could. She said she came to speak to me, to discourage me from what I am trying to do. It pains me to go against her wishes, but I cannot reveal that what I do, I do to save her and so many other worthy souls.
    Even as she spoke with me, she nestled down to hide from them, and well that she did, for as I hid, a party of gatherers came and I slew them. One survived, but would not answer my questions despite the breaking of his bones. I had to slit his throat. If he had returned to his group, he would have spoken of the encounter, and Nara would have been in danger. They would hunt her, as they do me. It pained me to see the revulsion on her face as I did this, but it was necessary to protect her, and everyone else.
    Shades arrived soon after, and I had to flee from them. The looks they gave me, the words they spoke, strike the strength of my convictions, robbing me of the will to continue. I do so desire peace, I desire to have the company of others, but I repulse them now, they see only an orc bent on killing. They do not understand . I left them in the woods so that they would not be branded as criminals by being seen with me.
    Shortly after, Connacht arrived and he too called out for me in the woods, to recall me. I hid as best I could, so that they would just leave, but they waited foolishly, calling loudly through the woods. I dont know what all they spoke of, but suddenly from the trees swooped down nearly 20 of the Horde. They surrounded Nara, Shades and Connact, and meant to kill and silence them for even discussing the option of opposing their plans. I killed many of the Horde in the defense of those who I still call friend.
    Together, I thought, we felt that we had done so much damage that we may as well press on and finish it, but the Iron Horde had Minogons which fell upon us. I cannot help but feel that had we fared better against the minogons, lying just past would have been the last of the Horde, and in reaching them, killing them, this would have all been over.
    Connact carried my body back to the temple where I was restored.
    Even though, an hour before, everyone felt it necessary to continue the fight, I was berated in the temple for waging this war. Nara's words cleaved my heart, and it still bleeds freely today. I have not the strength to fight the Horde today should they find me. Let them kill me.
    I am again in the forest. More alone now than ever before.

    NEW ENTRY
    Sarakar knows now. I returned to town for supplies and a moments rest in the inn, and she surpised me. I managed to subdue her and escape, but have a wonderful pain in my face to accompany the pain in my heart. I am too tired to enter into conflict with her. Perhaps it would have been better if she had simply cut my heart out and been done… but alas, I feel most of my heart lies rotting on the temple floor, carved to pieces by the daggers of Nara's words.

    NEW ENTRY
    The gathering parties are larger now. I let one pass by, there were too many. I heard them speaking, there are hundreds of them nearby now. How badly they desire to enter the city. Their deceiving plan may not work, and then the full force of their army shall be revealed to everyone. How unfortunate that so few seem concerned by this.
    I returned to town to have my equipment tended to by the master armsman. Indeed the chaotic events of the city unfold daily. I spoke with many people. Sarakar and I were forced to work together to stem the tide of creatures flowing from some magic portal, Oh yes.. and we spoke bitterly to each other for nearly two hours, but our need for each other at the portal I think is the only reason we both are still alive.
    Malek and I dispensed a little justice to a small dispute where I acted as judge.
    Father Terent rarely speaks to me anymore. I wonder if he too abhors the war quietly fought in the forests.
    Oddly enough, Ms Moni, my first friend in this forsaken city arrived recently, but only for a short visit . It was so good to see her again, and she seems to have selected Mr Lux as the object of her affections. If I survive I shall indeed be proud to attend their union.
    Tisha is always her friendly self, but I sometimes wonder if she even knows or cares about the army, waiting silently out there for its opportunity to strike at our heart.
    I explained my thoughts on the Horde's plan to Kzerza. He looked to be as if he had never considered that Sarakars orcs would be capable of such treachery, but after all, they DO worship BANE! Kzerza apologized for his actions and said he would speak to Sarakar. It was little consolation. If he truly believed, he would be with me now in the woods as I take pause to write this.

    Other than the dance so long ago, there is only one joy I can write about:
    I have been asked by one (who shall remain unwritten in case I am killed, to protect his wishes to remain unknown) to assist him in becoming an elf. He heard of my desire to do so and came swiftly to me pledging his help. Thanks be to Mr Sunar, who claims he has found an answer to our prayers.
    We need the blood of a doppleganger or a mimic and the blood of one of the desired form before he can attempt it. If only there was more time. Perhaps if I tell ... the one whose name I cannot reveal... he somehow can come up with these things. As much as I want this for myself, I am stuck in these woods until something finally breaks with the Horde.

    With the immediate dangers in the city quelled, I now return to the forest. The Horde is close, and I fear their patience thin. No one can control them and it seems we are powerless to stop them.

    This is the final entry


  • NEW ENTRY
    small drops of blood drip from the writers hand onto the page, mixing with the fresh ink
    A small wound, and they will soon smell it. I must finish this quickly and move before more come in search.
    I let those two float down the river as a sign to the rest… Do not come to this place, death awaits you here. Yet, I fear I cannot win this fight. Years before, I followed the army in their wake, and when they stopped to rest and replenish themselves, I hunted them. Without the divine strength granted me before, I too would have had to rest, but alas Helm's strength allowed me to pick away at the hunters and gatherers until the army was stricken with fear every time they stopped to rest and gather food. It is almost amusing that, to them at the time, I had become an orcish angel of death, to see me in the woods was to know that their time had come to an end. But these of the Iron Horde are very disciplined, and I imagine the luxury of a fear inspiring notion shall not be mine.
    The know exactly who I am, and how I must fight.

    This time, I must stay close to the city, to defend it. I cannot roam freely towards or to the side of the enemy, lest the scouts they send get behind me. They know that I shall ever remain between them and Xyrastalis, even if I am pressed up against the city gate by them, because I must defend it. It is my home. I shall not lose this home, nor my loved ones. Even if I perish, I shall so perish in a manner that I take them with me to the afterlife.

    If only there was a great leader to show me a better way, and lead the people of Xyrastalis to conquer these fiends. Damn you Sarakar! You wish to feel the flex of power at your fingertips as you wield this army for your own desires. But YOU ARE A FOOL!

    the writing becomes hard, under the weight of emotion

    YOU desire to LET them into the city! YOU would call them your FRIENDS! And late some night they will slip from their beds and KILL you in YOURS! They shall blame the citizens for slaying you in your sleep, turning you into a martyr, and then rally the rest of their forces against those that remain. While the citizens look for your murderer, the few orcs inside the city shall silently lift the bars from the gates, destroy the Pedestle and the magic shield, and proudly allow their entire army to slip past the city defenses killing every surprised inhabitant they find.... OH... and THEN! Then their treachery will become evident to you as you observe from the AFTERLIFE! With their army they shall mine VAST amounts of this crystal, and shall SO enchant their armor and weapons as to make them INVINCIBLE! From Xyra they shall invite orcs of all breeds, and bring them into their fold, and granting them great power for which to conquer the world.
    AND YOU WOULD LET THIS HAPPEN! You fool fool girl! You know not the fire with which you play. These are ORCS! Their very blood desires power. There are thousands of them, and even if the leader you so wantonly court pledges his allegiance, those of the orc blood will always follow the strongest leader, and certainly within those thousands shall be a strong one... stronger than your ambassador of peace certainly. You bring doom to us all! I should slay you, but I need you. I need you to keep pledging peace to them, while I whittle them away. And soon they shall turn from you in order to seek me, growing tired of your weak pledges for peace and inability to stop me, and then I shall lead them away, far away from this place. I know should that happen I must give up those closest to my heart, but... at least she will live.

    Sam wages a personal war against the orcs... AGAIN! This time without the aid of a god, 'He Who Lurks in Shadows' returns, this time, older and wiser


  • NEW ENTRY

    these papers seem to have become dampened with the wrinkles of wet, then dried paper. Smudges of dirt appear here and there, the signs of someone who has been in the field for a while. The newfound eloquence in Sam's writing is gone, opting for a blend of newfound skill and practical block script, as if he hadn't the time to be fancy anymore

    My dictionary has finally fallen apart, the wind scattering the pages into the river I was near. Perhaps it guided my hand well enough and for long enough, that if I die here in the woods, others will be able to read these pages and understand what I am trying to do, and know that I died trying to help people.

    Maybe I should have been a ranger. It would really help. My fieldcraft has never been the finest of skills and as often as people I know stumble upon me in the woods, I wonder how I ever manage to catch these orcs unaware.

    I guess this all started that night of the ceremony… to Selune was it? Not a diety I know very well. All of Sam's lady friends were there, dressed in the most stunning, shimmering gowns. Mrs Eva was brilliant, little Tisha almost made me want to be a halfling! Ms Rae, as usual, managing to turn a dignified attire into something more... seductive, I guess since I dont have my book to give me the right word.

    Nara too. a blot of ink as if the pen has paused for a while in that spot while the writer thought Stunning is the only word for her that night. They say wood elves are wild, almost animals, uncouth, yet still possessing that elfish arrogance. If I said she is not, it might offend her dignity, but she far, far exceeds my expectations of what to expect from one of her blood. She is wild certainly, but an animal only in the way she melds into the forest and fights with such tenacity. Uncouth? Certainly not, she looked every bit the part of a princess, so radiant I stared at her without capability of speech. I think my gaping offended her, and made her feel even more uncomfortable. But honestly her discomfort was so adorably cute I havent the heart to regret it.
    As I have been in the woods so long pondering that night, I begin to think I much prefer her in her woodland dress, though to see her so pristine an statuesque again would not harm my soul in the slightest. But with the leaves and twigs in her hair, smudges of dirt on her face and hands, at least then, she would attract less attention, risking less that someone else discover her and sweep her away from me. That fear is greater than my fear of the foes I await patiently as I write this.

    Strange things happened during the ceremony, and I do not understand what all happened, but no one seemed alarmed, so I paid it no further thought. After the ceremony, we left to the celebration. I wore the attire of a sailor's god. At least it was not Bane. Nara, I believe in her embarassment from the ceremony, dissappeared, much to my chagrin. Despite the intent of taking a single night to enjoy the company of others, tensions mounted and tempers flared, almost dragging me into a fight on more than one occasion. Eventually my beloved Narawien arrived, and from then on, the night for me was a highlight of my life.

    I can remember watching Mr Darian dance with others during our travels, and he even showed me a few steps, which thankfully I never forgot. Even though I dance with the grace of a stringed puppet on a childrens stage, at least I knew a few steps and danced for the first time. Thanks be to you, Mr Darian, for your patience and generosity teaching me those few steps so long ago, for my first dance was was more magical than any wizards spell.
    I even danced with young Sarakar, who tried to make amends with me for our past differences and we agreed. If only I had not been concentrating so hard on what my feet were doing, I might have taken a moment to sense the heart behind her words and know what treachery she held in store for us all.

    And that brings me to why I am sitting here in the hollow of a cliff, without a fire, escaping the rain. Sarakar has somehow managed to gain control of the Iron Horde. There is nothing about them any better than the Gruumsh worshiping scum that robbed me of my speech. Even worse these fiends worship Bane, and I have studied enough about that vile diety to know that Gruumsh and Bane are interchangable with vile and evil in any given sentence. But because they worship Bane, it granted Sarakar power over them somehow, and I found this out the very day after the celebration. Oh I have tried to convince that girl to change her ways, to show her a better way and to truly end our conflicts, but this treachery.. this defies every ounce of sense I possess.
    In the tavern, I stumbled upon the leader of the Iron Horde, a being easily as powerful as myself in battle, but lost my wits trying to beat him to the ground and strangle the life out of him. For my efforts, I was publicly beaten, stabbed in the back, tied up, and left for dead in the streets. Sarakar of course defended her orc, and the orc naturally participated once I had been knocked down, but Kzerza.. I did not expect his blade to cross my back. Treachery runs deep it would seem. The Horde is a great threat, but it appears I am alone in that thinking. Orcs are orcs, never to change.

    I am alone now. No one I have spoken with will take a stand against them. Not even those I thought I could depend for support have pledged any. Perhaps they honestly believe there is some peace to be had with them. They do not know, they do not understand, and they lack the vision I have into the hearts of those they deal with. So it has fallen upon my shoulders, Samson- (and do insert every manner of foulness to describe me here) to live alone in these woods and fight these creatures with every bit of my worth. It seems so much like nearly 15 years ago, when I fought another army, alone, in just this same manner. There is no honor in this fight, no love for the spilling of their blood, it is about surviving myself, and keeping this plague from reaching those I love. I am much older now, not quite as lithe as a youth but most frightening is this time I lack the empowerment of a diety. Upon rescuing, Mr Darian, Helm himself revealed that it was he that enabled my survival, and success against them. This time, I have not prayed upon this matter; there has not been time. I know in my heart that I have but one request left to me, that one such as I could never appeal again in the future almost so regularly as a true paladin for the empowerment of a diety. No, I think I must do this alone. And if I survive till the end, then perhaps those most imporant to me will still be alive as well____--------/.

    there is a mark on the page as if the writer was surprised and drew the pen across the page. There are also some smatterings of dark blood mixed with the dirt smudges from the handling by dirty hands

    In This chapter the Horde is revealed- which ultimately shall claim Sam's city


  • NEW ENTRY
    Irony.
    The summation of this life can be distilled into a single word. Irony.

    From birth, cast upon the mercy of a priest, with only a lock of hair in a small bag for a mother.

    Where is the irony? A stranger's mercy was greater than a mother's love.

    Complaints are hardly warranted, as growing up in the care of an educated man had its advantages, that is, until young Mr Darian was dropped off one day to study as a paladin. Then the teaching stopped, instead being given to the one with the most potential. There was no reason to be jealous, Mr Darian became a mighty paladin, and he did possess potential. But… Sam, you became the tiller of the soil, the gatherer of water, the hunter so that the priest and his protege might study in peace. How many hours were spent in the loft at the end of each day, listening to the teachings? How many days did we spar, learning to use our blades?

    Where is the irony? Raised like a paladin, trained like a paladin, but lacking from birth the potential to succeed as one.

    And then came the day when the orcs wrought devastation and genocide within our borders. Who was the first casualty? One who bore their blood. But instead of a swift death, a merciless beating forever forged the mighty into the meak. This mind was so battered that even simple speech became nearly entirely removed from its capability.
    Mr Darian struck out after the remains of that army to destroy it, and his loyal, childhood friend lay half dead to recover, alone, bleeding and forgotten in the fields.

    Where is the irony? That Sam's first Life Quest was to rejoin the young paladin and ensure his survival, to be there for another when no one was there for Sam.

    In the following years, of noble work and quests to restore the righting of wrongs, persecution and hatred followed Sam, for his blood was tainted, his size caused fear and his speech evoked hostility.

    Where is the irony? Good deeds all to often go punished.

    Despite the trials and tribulations we overcame together, Mr Darian's death was ultimately a freak of nature, a storm which swept him from the deck of a ship.
    The irony? That a man so mighty, having bested so much opposition, should trip over his own feet and fall into the stormy depths.

    In the coming year, routed from town after town, driven like a cow from field to field, Sam struggled to keep even a full belly.
    Past deeds oft go overlooked.

    Then to arrive in this town, still the amusing mockery of both humans and those of the foul blood, yet to be elected as a public official. Now THAT is indeed, ironic.

    And now the final irony, to achieve that which is most desired, must Sam return to the renounced part of himself, the scourge of his life, to find the strength to succeed at the most important endeavor any one can embark upon: the pursuit of happiness.

    It is indeed ironic that ... I shall say it for once, the orcish blood, which has plagued this life with such persecution, may now hold the key to its emancipation. What kind of life it must be to fade away into the woods and live happily? To once again pick up a plow, formerly a responsibility, soon perhaps to become a priviledge, to toil away once again for another. To care for, provide and protect another.

    Yet these simple joys lie across a gulf which Sam cannot seem to cross unaided. Only divine power, something formerly as elusive as a feathery cloud, may hold the key. It is this same divine power which could not be harnessed before and was the previous failing in the attempt to become a paladin. Yet if only once, it could be weilded, if only once a divine being would have mercy and empower Sam with wit, charm, intelligence, SPEECH! ....perhaps then... perhaps only then, might Sam succeed.

    Deep conflict rages over this quest. It is purely for selfish reasons that it is even considered. Or is it? Perhaps the desire to care for another is not so selfish? Certainly the desire for companionship is... And how will it be construed in the eyes of whichever diety is amused enough to lend the aid which Sam requires?

    There is no doubt that the answering of the call will be from the diety sam forsook when he renounced his blood and everything attributed with it. Gruumsh? The spelling eludes, but the name is forever imbedded in this mind, as are the scars inflicted upon Sam's head by those that followed him. Now THAT is irony.

    So then, the last piece of this ironic puzzle would be: To succeed, and thwart the plans of a god, to accept his aid willingly, and NOT fail. Just as the followers of Gruumsh were impotent to slay Sam so long ago, so would that god be just as impotent to claim Sam's soul should this Quest fail. Sam will goad this god into lending his aid, and must not...
    No... WILL NOT fail

    NEW ENTRY

    Recent days have proven themselves quite relaxing. So relaxing, in fact, as to allow opportunities to strengthen relations with many of the others.
    Little Tisha Skittlesworth, despite being a halfling and full of their energy, is quite endearing to me. For her size, she has one of the largest, most compassionate hearts of any in Xyrastalis. Her stories of her home life help fill some of the emptiness of mine. Unfortunately, her memories of her mother are vague at best, and those are the stories which would hold the most attention. However, she seems to have had a good father and he raised her quite well. Brother John may have done the raising, but our relation was always so much more teacher to student than father to son. Halflings used to hold so much appeal, but the more they run around this forsaken place, they become more and more annoying. She is a breath of fresh air, and helps restore my faith in them as a species.

    As nice as Ms Eva is, we seem to speak less and less. Perhaps because she has a husband and rightfully spends most of her time with him. They do seem happy together and my blessings go with them, if I had any to give. As always, she is polite, and entertains my nagging for advice on some matters, and also as always, her advice is very sage. Perhaps not the closest of friends but without a doubt she is an ally, and one that a debt of gratitude is owed, for opening up the ability to use this pen and paper to their greatest effect.

    Mr Malek and Father Terent... worry me. They seem more and more out of sorts, as if they are under some mysterious longing. Father Terent seems unsatisfied with the work he is able to accomplish and even more so with the acknowledgement he receives for his hard work. Malek on the other hand seems to be struggling more and more with his relationship with Tyr. Despite frequent advice on how he should conduct himself as a paladin, he struggles onward. It is not as if my advice carries much weight with him in any case, despite the years of experience working for a very honorable paladin.

    Sarakar... we maintain our hot and cold. My best efforts to restore some of the karma lost between us continue to be hit or miss, but without a doubt, there is something in that heart of hers dying to break free. She endures the contempt her upbringing and resulting actions focus upon her, but at the same time the weight of that contempt disturbs her. Resisting the urge to touch her and discover what truly exists within her heart is difficult. The desire to help settle the turbulence she must feel is so often squashed by her impetuous comments. She actually had the gall to compare SAM with a paladin. As if... If she only knew.

    The one they call Quick opened up just yesterday. Another poor creature sentenced to misery of a smiliar sort. She too clamors for acceptance and intimacy... albeit with too many she meets. Love is where you find it indeed, and this heart is hardly in a place to judge, but it would seem her searches are too broad and roaming to ever discover that what she seeks must be found with dedication and effort, and not stumbled upon in fleeting moments of intimacy before moving on in search of new satisfactions.

    Hmm... dare even more ink be spilled accounting my own search? In review of past writings, one common thread in nearly every entry stands boldy out. A mind ensnared and driven by the heart, a heart which unfortunately is bound without freedom to soar as hearts should. What is it that inhibits every efforts success? Not pure rejection but... noncomitalism?

    Indeed, things are not so bad in the slightest.
    While normally she strives ever so valiantly to maintain her aloof nature, a windfall success was recently realized. For the first time, she relaxed her guard, and opened up as never before, sharing things that perhaps none have yet heard. And while these new discoveries raise so many new questions, the most important came when she confessed no fear of my touch, despite the knowledge that a simple touch could extract things her thickest walls of defense would mean to protect. Indeed she allowed a long moment of contact, where deeply I felt her feelings of the moment and reveled in the beauty of her soul. It was a level of trust so satisfying that, as her thoughts washed over me, exploring her inner being, it only reinforced that which has long been known to me.

    Despite this new found trust, the experience sadly revealed nothing more in her than a deepening friendship. The sanctity of her deepest desires were well hidden, and nothing of her thoughts and feelings of the future imprinted upon me.

    She did want a hug and that.. that was easily provided. Quite gladly in fact.

    One can only wonder, if this bridge between us can be built upon. And if so, how long before she realizes that with a simple touch, can Sam set to work to rectify all that ails her, destroy what plagues her, and provide all that she longs for. Or will she in her independence, retreat further into herself, denying any assistance, prefering to be ever independent and self-sufficient in her constant effort to prove her value as a being, and shun Sam in the process?

    Somehow... somehow... if she can be shown the sweet harmony of mutual support, of reliance on others to complement her weaknesses, and how her strengths can lift up others to heights they alone could not acheive. It is there, inside her, but how to bring it OUT?! How can she be made to understand the joy that can be found in the knowledge that someone out there will always have her best interests at heart?

    The prayer for the lifequest is written, and it rests in a pocket over my heart. It is still an option, as only Mr Ster felt the risk too great. But in light of recent events, it will stay in the pocket until there is no other recourse

    An intersting introspection into his own life
    More interpersonal interactions


  • NEW ENTRY
    The new day is about to begin and only one option presents itself, but the fear of the risk is beyond what fear has ever been felt before. To succeed would yield a lifetime of happiness, and yet to fail, death and misery… an eternity of absolute torment.

    Indeed the most difficult decision of a lifetime stands in the foreground. A Life Quest? Should Sam offer up his soul to whatever god shall receive him and grant him what she finds so lacking? And the penalty of failure... how deep runs this burn? Is it enough?

    Three outcomes hang in the balance

    1. Endure another Life Quest and Commit this soul into the balance for her heart, to succeed: a lifetime of bliss, but to fail...
    2. Eternal damnation by whatever orcish god receives this soul, and forever be subjected to agonizing, ethereal torture for renouncing the vile blood that courses through these veins.
      OR
    3. Simply try to apologize and strive to enjoy what few moments of friendship can be shared.

    The question tortures and is relentless in its nagging. All or nothing? or... Make do with something?
    The urges of this soul... the answers are known. Is success even possible, too much to ask?

    The recent failure of that Bronson fellow, who claimed we shared the same vile blood from even the same vile father still lingers. His soul, forever entombed in a pact with an unknown god due to his failure.
    Indeed, his judgement came from Sarakar... perhaps she lied, taking pleasure in the knowledge that her decision would remove a soul from the face of this earth.
    Who shall be the judge then? If Sarakar were in a place to judge this Life Quest, most surely would she find it a convenient way to see THIS soul... also removed.

    Sam considers wagering his soul to gain what he most desires


  • NEW ENTRY
    A new terror. Orcs of a breeding terrifyingly similar to Sams. They possess strength, and cunning, fighting with much the same skill as those around Sam have come to depend upon. But now an army of them knocks on our doors, threatening our way of life. We were soundly beaten out of the sewers. Despite our own troubles with the rats, these invaders also walk with impunity against them, batting at them like flies whilst they occupy the sewers in preparation for what can only be another invasion of the city. These small bits of crystal most of us carry in our bags, apparently carry with them a great magick that is desired by many. If an army such as this aquired an unending source of this crystal, nothing could stop them. They must be defeated now, before it is too late.

    NEW ENTRY
    Woe unto this troubled soul. A grevious error and slip of the toungue threatens to undo so much delicate work as to render this mind troubled unto incapacitation.

    But… to start at the beginning. Ms Lalo, whome was rescued in the sewers having fallen victim to the aforementioned vermin, seems to have developed a notion that the entire town hates her. This is not the case, despite the woman's chilling soul, which leaves a frigid air in her wake and chill bumps on the skin. Sam only informed her that the sewers were not the place for a being of her skills. She in turn interpreted this as an attack upon her being and as such has rendered nothing but disdain thenceforth. However, that cannot be the underlying reason for last nights events.

    She was abducted by shadows, controlled by...? Who knows. Mr Malek, Mr Ster Arna (a man who has earned complete respect and my deep compassion for his situation) and.. naturally Sam, attempted to thwart her abduction but failed miserably. She was taken right out from under our noses by these ghosts.
    We searched high and low for the culprit to no avail. Racing for the next destination to search for her, we encounted that most beloved of women, Ms Sarakar. Nara was there, but she is never so dashing around that woman. It is as if a part of that woman's vile nature reaches into Nara's soul and changes her. She becomes curt, and joyless.. apparently reveling in the misery of others, but only when Sarakar is near. When she is not, the child in her is evident, the need for acceptance, respect, and perhaps even love. Others have seen this and recognize the truth as well. Sarakar's influence chokes the life out of that dear lady with only her mere presence. One can only begin to fathom what poisonous damage is done to her mind when they are alone together. Whatever that damage may be, it likely lies beyond the healing powers of even the most compassionate.

    Digression is not a virtue.. Sarakar somehow immediately knew where Ms Lalo was held, despite the long efforts of those who felt responsible for the failing of her protection. Also despite the knowledge of the situation held by Mr Malek, and Mr Ster, she immediately compelled herself into command and took us to that dreadful temple north of Lacerta. Sure enough Lalo was there, but as soon as we arrived and saw to her safety, the bickering began.
    Sam tried to break the whirlwind of shouted insults and accusations with an ill received, even if juvenile, attempt to bring them together for a group hug to liven their spirits and break the foul atmosphere. Thankfully Mr Malek directly went to work to close whatever gate these beings had entered our world. He succeeded, but absolutely NO thanks to those bickering cretins that felt only THEY could deal with the crisis. In fact, in truth, Mr Malek could have handled the entire problem single handedly, as a paladin should.

    It was at this juncture that those ill fated, impulsive words escaped these lips, which so deeply rent asunder the gentle cultivating of the most precious thing that graces this life, were spoken. Sam you are as stupid as every slander against you ever uttered was correct!

    In lamenting the ineffectualness of Sarakar and her party's presence, you idly spoke those words in Nara's presence and she heard them, took them to heart, and may forever feel you also guilty of the disdain she feels all others direct towards her.

    Note to Sam: Apologize at once, grovel if necessary, and restore what if any, broken faith may remain in her.

    We returned to the city to find it full of zombies, apparently trapped and left behind after Mr Malek had closed the gate from whence they came. Sam attempted, however feebly, to compliment Nara's crafty bow work to ratify her belief that she indeed is a contributing member of society and her skills coveted. But these words fell on deaf ears. Her eyes spoke volumes of mistrust and shattered faith.

    What a cruel irony from days just past where we were alone and together hunted the wererats and depended on each other. It was, during those moments almost as perfect a time as could ever be wished for. And now, through blatant stupidity.... .... how can any one being wield such power over the mind, body, heart and soul of another. This soul is no longer mine.

    Two troubles... potential loss of his love and the first warning signs of the Second End of the City


  • NEW ENTRY

    RATS! Not just vermin, but large two legged creatures. Mr Malek, Decim, Father Terent and a few others braved the smelling of the sewers to dispatch veritable hordes of the beasts. An Army of them in fact. They were identified as wererats. We spent much of the morning keeping thier numbers down, but the things were capable of moving through the sewers with deadly proficiency, appearing in the midst of our party and attacking the weakest members. It was not any great feat that this armor and weapon allow Sam to move amongst them with near impunity, but others… have not the same fortune.
    We encountered a werecat which had been battling them as well, but required out aid. It had discovered an army massing in a deep chamber. Their intentions were to surface and wreak havoc upon the town. This small intrepid band of saviors fought viciously every step of the way down the sewer halls until we found the rallying place of this army. By all guesses there were over 500 of them. The battle was long, and sword arms hung limply at the end, but ultimately, with the carnage piled 3-4 feet high, we prevailed against them. Thanks be to Mr Decim's cunning bolts, Mr Gim's stature as it provided a great barricade against them, and Mr Maleks vicious swings. The Padre stood back far less than any would have liked, his spells long exhuasted and he too committed himself into the fray, for to stand back in this hellacious last stand would have been our doom.
    Twas a good thing we caught them where we did in the sewers, for if that horde had been released on the town, they would have quickly surrounded the citizens and overwhelmed them from all sides in their great numbers.

    Upon the defeat of the invading forces, the werecat dissappeared to learn more of them. It suspiciously moved with as much ease in the sewers as the rats, but there was no doubt that these things hated our unlikely ally as much as it hated us. We retired to the town for rest, but before we had even made it to the tavern, the werecat was back, claiming it had found the brood nest, or breeding grounds for these creatures.

    We again descended into the depths of the city to eliminate this threat, lest the threat of another army be upon the city in days. It was uncanny how quickly they multiplied, feeding on the waste of the inhabitants above. Another long, constant battle yielded nothing more than a wasteland of carnage. Despite the expense of such a mission, the loss of equipment and magicks, indeed it was a grand accomplishment. We did not slay them to the last, but certainly they are under more control than before. No one knows how long they lay under our feet amassing, and indeed they are not wholly gone, but at least the threat of their invasion has passsed. It is a routine now, to enter the sewers now and again, to ensure their army enjoys not the pleasure of uninterupted reconstitution.

    NEW ENTRY
    Theives and Rats. Together they create a wholly new dimention of difficulty. Three women were kidnapped by these rogues, but their plans went awry as the rats forced them to barricade themselves inside their own sewers in fear for their lives. We slew unknown dozens more of these creatures and a great number of criminals to rescue these women. Indeed we saved their lives. Once a savior of Ms Charlie's little girl, now a savior of 3 of her closest friends. Perhaps Sam will be afforded a room for free in the inn now?
    After a breif repast, Nara descended back into the sewers, to relieve some the frustrations imbedded in her by our colleagues. She still feels unwanted by so many. The attentions of so many others wave like banners with bands behind them, yet she does not see. Our time together was mostly silent, as the fear of breaking the joy of the moment would be realized with the utterance of a word. Dreamlike. Despite the violent nature of dispatching the wererats, it was a pure, wonderful moment. More than just defending her from the beasts (something too innate inside Sam to break) but hearing her arrows whistle past, knowing she stood behind and we worked together. As one.

    Moments like that are priceless and worth the value of a life.

    More adventures and a little Q time with his love (still unreturned)


  • NEW ENTRY
    Poor Ms Eara. Something happened to her. Mr Decim sayed she could not come back unless people wanted her back? Is Sam people? Sam wants her back. Sam dont count? Must figure out how to fix this. It is not right for an elfs soul to wander like that.
    Sam is mad at Mr Decim cause he knows the secret and aint telling. Some oath. If it was not for that oath, Sam would have bashed him for not telling. Wish Sam knew more about this kind of stuff. Sam dont even know who to ask about it. If Sam had more hair, it would be pulled out by now.

    Let see… what else. Ms Rae and Fenia are turning out to be nice people. Ms Eva is always so ... aloof, Sam dont understand why people dont like her.

    Lots of little people running around these days. Too many steal.

    We got a new Lady Paladin in town. Sam thinks that she would be a nice girl for Mr Malek, but he aint keen on the idea yet. That is okay. Sam will fix that.

    Sams to do list:
    1 Get that Lady Paladin after Mr Malek, cause they would be a good fit.
    2 Help Mr Decim, Mr Malek and Brother Terent fix the city shield
    3 Show Ms Sara that being nice can make you happy, cause thats when people are nice back
    4 Help Ms Nara less scared so she can pick someone to make her happy

    Sams what the hell does Sam to do about this list?
    1 Ms Natsume- she makes Sam nervous. But it not like Sam aint curious about her. (Is this what Mr Darian meant when he said "Sam, dont play with fire?")
    2 How to get Ms Eara back?

    Wow. Thats alot. Maybe Sam should of been a paladin

    *the quality of the text has improved considerably. The simple block letter strokes have been replaced by the beginnings of script.

    NEW ENTRY
    Ms Eara is saved, that paladin lady dissappeard but also fortunately for these unsteady nerves so has Ms Natsume.

    NEW ENTRY
    Since coming here, things have proven to be a chaotic journey akin to the voyage which sped here on troubled seas, of triumph and tribulation, of success and defeat. Sam has battled wits, brawn and even emotions and come to a final conclusion:
    Mr Darian was right. Always be nice to people. And it has payed off.

    Having been driven out of dozens of towns previously for reasons of fear of size, offense at demeanor, and ultimately sheer ignorance, Xyrastalis is finally the unlikely place that Sam will call home.

    Sam has the most precious of all things here: Friends... and people to care about. Some of these cares may never render fruit in this lifetime, but it is more important to hold onto these cares than abandon them. Abandoning them would be relinquishing hold of the very soul of this life.

    Secondly, Sam has something that has been elusive for a good long while. A job.
    At first, the city street sweeper position seemed the logical choice! It was simple, and well within natural abilities. But, perhaps due to that simple philosophy of being nice, somehow that rash and foolish whim of an application for Judge, was miraculously approved. How it ever happened is something Sam will never investigate, to avoid bursting the dreamlike bubble of life which somehow formed in this place.

    Sadly, the irony of the moment is, the instant this pen touches the table, all visible signs of intelligence vanish from this person to even more than just the casual observer. Were Sam to lift this paper and read it to another...

    "Sam's nut gunna be able ta even say haff da wurds."

    Curses be to the orcish nation for inflicting this prison upon Sam. Simply to settle their own cruel desires for causing pain and suffering, as if being implanted into this hulking body were not enough oddity, they have so damaged this mind that to understand how this writing could be so eloquent yet speech so garbled confounds and frustrates Sam with each and every poorly uttered word.

    In truth, my voice, my true voice which has taken decades to discover, is as silent as the night. The ones who would best learn from it are as unable to understand its meaning as Sam is to speak the words. And those who -can- read it, must never do so for twould betray every vulnerability possessed by this soul.

    So now, having become the 'Judge,' and faced with the trials of authority, so now must the trials of soul begin. For to surely execute this position, indeed shall acts which compromise that fundamental principle of 'being nice' be performed.

    Despite such incredible successes, only one profound joy manifests itself, or herself, daily. She is indeed one of those cares mentioned before, but also the one which shall most likely bear no lasting fruit. Sam must be content to view and smell the blossoms of our daily discourses and continue to build upon the trust that has been so painstakingly and delicately built. There is little hope that those delicate blossoms shall ever become the fruit of knowledge and in turn, she become Sam's tree of life.
    So blossoms only it be! And revel in all their delicate attributes for all their appeal!

    Enough of philosophy!
    Tis wearisome work to write like that! On simpler, more common thoughts, Sam now possesses a mighty set of armor which provides a full measure of protection greater than anything in this town, except perhaps Ms Sarakar. Additionally, one of those cursed blades has made its way into these mighty hands, along with a bow whose draw is greater than that held by any, again... except perhaps Ms Sarakar.
    How ironic that the uncompassionate and joyless should be evenly matched with one who cares nothing for such tools insofar as they may empower Sams ability to keep up with injustices of others. She is surely more advanced, and this gulf extends over time, but if the tiebreaking duel must ever come, Sam shall surely employ his one greatest advantage over her- passion- something that poor shell of a soul may never truly know. If she did, we would have far, far fewer disputes.

    But even then, the relationships with everyone known in this town, seem to have greatly improved. With the resetting of the city's shield, stresses alleived, it seems we all have pause to wield a little more compassion for one another.

    A grand state of affairs indeed

    Sam rises to a high point in his life, one he attains on his own merits and for the first time in his life, Sam feels like he is finally a functional member of society, not living in the shadows