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Journal of the Souls of Legend (completed)
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<blockquote data-quote="Nthal" data-source="post: 7506082" data-attributes="member: 6971069"><p><strong>...With a spot of violence... (10/8)</strong></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center"><strong>…with a spot of violence…</strong></p> <p style="text-align: center"><strong></strong></p> <p style="text-align: center"><strong></strong></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em>It’s a moment like this you wonder about your own life choices. “If I had made that turn, would I have avoided that gang that robbed me?” And that was my line of thinking; I just wasn’t sure whether the choice was agreeing to deliver that message to Barkis, or just getting up in the morning. I’m beginning to think the latter.</em></p><p></p><p>The…undead…thing was ready to twist and bring that rusted mace into my ribs. But at the point it should have started swinging at me, it stopped. The dead white eyes stared at me, and it shivered intensely. Like it was fighting some other battle, trying to strike me. Finally, it stopped apparently losing and loped towards the others.</p><p></p><p>I had barely any time to digest this sudden change, when I heard the whistling of an arrow. The arrow streaked at me, cutting my upper arm and I yelped in surprise. Looking down the line of wagons and carts, a figure had jumped out of the covered wagon. It had the same form of the undead thing; lupine head, shaggy short fur. But this one moved far livelier and looked comparatively healthy. I didn’t like the looks of it, and considering it was nocking another arrow it probably didn’t like me either.</p><p></p><p>My other three companions also had their hands full, as at nearly the same time that the withered gnoll took a swing at the Fingerpainter, three other bodies suddenly decided to stand up. But despite the pain in my arm, I was focused on only one thing:</p><p></p><p>Surviving.</p><p></p><p>I moved to my right, trying to get a clear view of the gnoll with the bow. After moving about five paces, I had an opening. I focused a moment, reaching out to find the gnoll’s life force. I quickly find it and I utter a single word ‘<em>zalt’</em> and a bolt of crackling purple energy streaks toward the gnoll, striking it hard in the chest. I then moved and found cover by a nearby tree and crouched low.</p><p></p><p>The Fingerpainter, didn’t care much for the one that took a swing at him. He sent his owl skyward and then after some weaving and bobbing managed to conjure a mote of fire, and with force…hit the wagon next to him. Panicking, he ran to the other side of the wagon, narrowly avoiding getting hit with the mace. Now, all three the undead gnolls charged at our Tinman, and their weapons were simply knocked away by his shield, and he quickly did a savage cut against one of them. Then the Knight quickly moved behind it and made a quick slash across the hamstrings, causing its legs to buckle and it falling to its knees. Then he quickly spun out of the way from the other gnoll that stood beside his fallen companion, who was now swinging wildly at empty air.</p><p></p><p>At this point another undead gnoll charged at me, and I gritted my teeth together, steeling myself for the inevitable blow. But, as with the first one it appeared to be struggling with an internal conflict on even trying to hit me. And again, it failed and charged back into the rest of our group, swinging its club and smashing it into the Tinman’s shield. I was getting the impression that they were actually <em>afraid</em> of me. But that was silly wasn’t it? The undead don’t <em>fear</em> mortals…right?</p><p></p><p>But regardless of the undead one’s feelings, the live one was a different matter, and it took another shot at me going wide, and it then moved behind the wagon and into cover again. I returned the favor, and moved out more, flanking him just enough to get a clear shot. I threw another bolt of energy at it, striking it in the side, </p><p></p><p>At this point the Fingerpainter changed his tactics with fire and changed to frost. Quickly pulling a small flask from a pouch he splashed some water onto his hand and with a quick motion hurled a frozen bolt towards the foursome now packed in close to the Tinman. The bolt hit one in the rear and it exploded in all directions, striking all the undead gnolls nearby. I could even hear the bones break from where I was crouched, and two of them fell to the ground.</p><p></p><p>The two that remained didn’t react or even flinch. Oblivious to the magic behind them, they continued their assault on the Tinman. One manages to land a blow on his armor, resulting in a grunt. But it was enough to prevent him from getting a clean swing at either of the gnolls. The Knight again struck one of them true with his sword, puncturing deep in the ribcage from behind and felling it.</p><p></p><p>The live gnoll again took another shot at me, the arrow sinking deep into the tree trunk. It was getting angry and sloppy, and it started to move closer towards me ignoring any nearby cover from the wagons. I simply stepped sideways from the tree, and threw another bolt, striking the gnoll again in the chest. I changed positions, leaving the tree and moving behind a wagon. Once there I drew a dagger from my belt, preparing for a close-up encounter with the gnoll. I checked my arm, and the bleeding had stopped for the moment. My heart was pounding hard, and yet I couldn’t feel the pain from my arm anymore. What I could feel was quite different.</p><p></p><p>I felt exhilarated. I could feel my face ache from the wild smile on my lips.</p><p></p><p>I felt <em>alive.</em></p><p></p><p>I couldn’t see it, but I heard the whistling of a bolt of fire through the air, and the sound of a body hitting the ground. Then the sound of a blade swinging and cutting into a dried corpse and then a ‘thud’ as a body hit the earth. I had guessed that my companions struck true. Or if not, they weren’t screaming about it.</p><p></p><p>Several things happened at once then; first I heard footsteps running and a blade cutting air, followed by the Knight’s voice swearing something. Then from around the corner of the wagon came the gnoll. Close up I could now see it in its full, ugly glory. The short fur on its face and body was a mess of blood, applied like war paint. Its foul stench filled my nostrils with a mixture of rot and filth. It swung at me wildly, but it wasn’t even close enough to strike me with the rusted blade in its hand.</p><p></p><p>I recoiled and whispered ‘zalt,’ a bolt streaked out and struck it square in the face. I could see its eyes roll backward and it sank to its knees, and then falling forward into the dirt. The feeling of exhilaration had reached its peak. I felt powerful. I felt like I finally was in control.</p><p>Coming around the wagon, the knight appeared with sword in hand ready to strike. Seeing the unmoving body on the ground his posture softened. </p><p></p><p>“I think that was the last one,” he said breathing heavily. He glanced at his blade and after seeing no blood on it he sheathed it at his side. Looking at me again, he had a puzzled expression on his face.</p><p></p><p>“Are you…alright Myrai?”</p><p></p><p>I blinked and stammered, “Y-y-yes. I’m fine. Why?”</p><p></p><p>“You just...look…never mind,” he said continuing to give me a strange look. He then changed the topic. “We probably should finish looking at stuff here and burn the bodies.”</p><p></p><p>“Sure…I need a moment, and I’ll lend a hand.” </p><p></p><p>He nodded and turning around, he returned back to the wagon where the others were. </p><p>I stood there a moment. I had seen death many times in Sigil. Of friends. Of strangers. From violence. From starvation. Many deserved better fates and better endings. It’s what attracted me to Kelemvor to start with. Death was a certainty; embracing the end on your own terms was important. Helping others pass with dignity was another.</p><p></p><p>But you didn’t <em>want</em> death; you wanted a life to live out its allotment of time. You wanted to avoid ending to…anything but old age. </p><p></p><p>So why was I so…so…excited on killing the one live gnoll? I didn’t regret killing it; it was a spawn of a demon lord. It was a plague of corruption. I was afraid for my life at the start, but I didn’t feel afraid when we attacked each other. But I was enjoying myself battling it and bringing it down.</p><p>I didn’t know what I should have been feeling. But I put it out of my mind and rejoined the group.</p><p></p><p>“I assume that’s the last of the musties,” I said as I approached.</p><p></p><p>“Well I guess that depends on what a ‘mustie’ is. If you mean the witherlings, looks like it,” replied the Tinman. </p><p></p><p>I nod, “Plus one live one.,” I wince as I start to come down from my euphoria and the pain of my arm starts to register. “I’m going to clean and bandage this. Anyone else hurt?”</p><p></p><p>“Just a deep bruise really,” replied the Tinman. “Nothing broken, and no bleeding. I’m going to look at the other wagons though, I’ll be a moment,” and with that he moved towards a wagon, with this sword drawn.</p><p></p><p>The Fingerpainter, raised his arm and his owl returned and alighted on his wrist. “Filthy witherlings! This tells me that any gnolls around here are in dire straits,” the Fingerpainter said, punctuating with a ball of spit on the ground. “Necromancy comes too easily to them. We don’t need undead in the world let alone undead gnolls. Both are disgusting enough, but combining them? I hope this first time is the last time.”</p><p></p><p>I stared at the gnome, “What do you mean ‘first time?’”</p><p></p><p>He turned his head to look at me, “Well, I have studied a lot about various schools of magic. But reading about the undead is a bit different than running into them.”</p><p></p><p>This surprised me, “You mean, people don’t normally…well…animate them?”</p><p></p><p>The Fingerpainter made a face, “No! That’s not proper! Most goodly folk would consider that an offense. Wait, why? What do you do in Sigil with undead?”</p><p></p><p>“Well, the Dusties…er what used to be the Dustmen, collected the corpses of the dead and interred them in the mortuary based on their beliefs. But some poorer folk sold their future corpses for jink. They get animated and used as laborers.”</p><p></p><p>“Why would they do a terrible thing like that? The gods don’t normally approve of such dirty things.”</p><p></p><p>I felt relieved, “Well, being poor has a lot to do with it. Jink now, for a body that you aren’t going to miss later. But it’s nice to hear that not everyone animates the dead here.”</p><p></p><p>The gnome nodded, “in the north here, very true. Now there are singular places that have more than their needed amount of undead. Like Warlock’s Crypt I have heard. But the only nation that has large concentrations of undead servants is Thay, far to the east. There the Zulkirs that study necromancy, animate…well whatever they want.”</p><p></p><p>“Remind me not to visit,” I said trying to put the thought of cities crawling with the undead out of my mind. While we were talking I had with some difficulty cleaned out the cut with water from my waterskin. I was going to try to put on a bandage when the Knight intervened.</p><p>“Let me. It’s hard enough with two hands, let alone one,” he said. I nodded and let him tie the makeshift bandage on. “I have a question though. Why didn’t the two witherlings attack you? I saw them run at you, and just as quickly run towards us. What did you do?”</p><p></p><p>I thought a moment. It was a great question, but one I didn’t have an answer for. “I don’t know…I saw them try very hard to swing at me, but they were hesitant. But I didn’t <em>do</em> anything. Not a spell.”</p><p></p><p>The Fingerpainter chimed in, “Did you use that holy symbol on your neck?”</p><p></p><p>“What? No…why would I do that?” I asked, as this was confusing to me.</p><p></p><p>“Well, those with a lot of faith in their gods, sometime invest power their servants and they can then cause the undead to run and cower. Many clerics here can do this.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh…I mean in Sigil while we have musties around, I don’t think I ever saw someone do that. I don’t know how, and I …don’t <em>think</em> I did anything. Thanks Iesa, that should be good.” I said, as he finished tightening the cloth around the arrow wound.</p><p></p><p>He nodded, “No problem. Sure it’s not too tight?”</p><p></p><p>“No…it’s fine…really,” I looked at him. For some reason he looked nervous, or rather skittish. “I’m not a piece of delicate crockery…I’ll tell you if it hurts.” I said.</p><p></p><p>“Yeah…right. We probably should look at the rest of the wagon’s here, see if anyone was hiding or there is stuff we can use.”</p><p></p><p>And at that moment, the Tinman returned, “Nope…nothing living or dead beyond what we killed. </p><p>And I’m pretty sure this isn’t a merchant caravan.”</p><p></p><p>The Knight looked up with interest, “Why do you say that?”</p><p></p><p>The Tinman continued, “No ‘goods.’ Just old furnishings, used farm tools and junk. Looks like homesteaders to me; probably fleeing their farms because of them,” he said pointing to the bodies.</p><p></p><p>The Knight looked crestfallen, “Probably means not a lot of coin either.”</p><p></p><p>“You are welcome to look, but I only poked at a box or two. Nothing obvious, and if I were a farmer, I’d probably keep my coin on me if I could. Which means the gnolls might have taken any coin accidentally.”</p><p></p><p>I look at the Tinman, “What? They don’t loot?”</p><p></p><p>“Well…they do. But not coin. They want people for…food,” he replied with a tone of disgust. </p><p></p><p>“Why am I not surprised. Well I guess we can take what we need, but what then?” I said.</p><p></p><p>The Knight then responded instead, “We should burn the corpses and get some distance. I’ll start looking for a spot for the night. But I’m going to double check the other wagons before we go.”</p><p>I nodded and looked at the mess of corpses. I guessed that taking care of the dead wasn’t exclusive to uncorrupted peoples of the multiverse. I then started to drag the corpses into a pile on a patch of bare earth. As expected, beyond strips of leather and very poor weapons they had nothing of value. The Tinman came over with some chairs and broke them apart to make some kindling.</p><p></p><p>The Knight returned with a look of disappointment on his face. But he did hand the Tinman a clay pot. He glanced quickly at the contents, nodded and poured the contents on the wood and bodies.</p><p>“Hey Beepu, can I get a light?” the Knight called out.</p><p></p><p>“Magic isn’t an art used to make things convenient because you can’t work a flint and steel.” The Fingerpainter preached in retort.</p><p></p><p>“That’s nice. Just light it so we can leave before any other gnolls decide to show up.” The Knight replied</p><p></p><p>“FOOM” and with an arrow of flame the Fingerpainter set the makeshift pyre alight, and soon became a roaring blaze. I bow my head, and utter a prayer, hoping the souls find their just judgement.</p><p>We leave the remains of the caravan, and move with some haste, as the light from the setting sun was starting to fade. The Knight was ranging ahead looking for a place to camp. Sometime later, just as the sun sank below the horizon, he returned and motioned for us to follow him. He led us a small distance off the road to a gully. Down in the gully, the water had scooped out a cut underneath a formation of sandstone, providing cover from above, and a safe place to light a small fire.</p><p></p><p>I took off my pack and set it on the ground. The Tinman called out my name and tossed me what looked to be a rolled bundle of cloth, leather and fur. I looked at him quizzically.</p><p></p><p>“I found some bedrolls in the caravan, and I noticed Beepu and you didn’t seem to have one.” He stated. “We should gather some wood for a fire and setup watch.”</p><p></p><p>“Thanks…didn’t even think of it. But what do you mean by ‘watch?’” I asked.</p><p></p><p>He looked at me with surprise, “You really haven’t been outside a city much. Someone that keeps an eye on the fire, and for trouble. I assume that you wizards will either want the first or last to get your beauty sleep.”</p><p></p><p>I give him a level look and replied drily, “Thanks for the concern. I’ll take the first I guess. And also, I’m not a wizard.”</p><p></p><p>“I had wondered about that,” the Fingerpainter chimed in. “You mentioned being able to take care of yourself. I thought it was with those daggers. But now with your explanation of planar mechanics I see I was in error. You must have sorcery in your blood.”</p><p></p><p>“I guess...It was only in the last four years I could cast anything. And I don’t have a book of spells. So, I suppose it’s accurate.” I said.</p><p></p><p>“Well, magic is magic no matter what the source. Now, I don’t think we need watches at all. Foggle can watch for all of us.” The Fingerpainter said looking at his mechanical owl with pride.</p><p></p><p>“If it can see in the dark, it’s a help since you’re the only other one that can. But I’m not going to let it be our only eye for trouble.” The Knight disdainfully said, looking at the owl.</p><p></p><p>“Well, since <em>you two</em> are the only ones,” pointing at the Knight and the Tinman,” that can’t see in the dark, why don’t you take a watch together with the owl.</p><p></p><p>“Oh! That would be a help…only half of us will be blind then. Won’t matter though…we’ll likely hear them before we see them,” the Tinman said with a smirk. </p><p></p><p>And at that moment, I understood why. I could hear them in the distance. High pitched yipping and what almost sounded like laughter.</p><p></p><p>“That doesn’t sound like the gnoll I just killed,” I said listening intently.</p><p></p><p>“No…those are the hyenas that follow them around. It’s said after a hyena eats its fill from leavings from the gnolls, that a new gnoll is born…or bursts forth. Something like that.” The Knight said. “Anyway, they’re scavengers Not much for sneaking when gnolls…and food are around.”</p><p></p><p>“Great.” I said. “Something to listen to.”</p><p></p><p>We laid out our bed rolls and munched on the rations; some type of mix of nuts, take and jerky. Dry but filling and I admit it was better than some gruel I had in the Gatehouse. The other three were talking some small talk, but I was lost in my own thoughts. </p><p></p><p>I always thought I was, if not well lanned was lanned enough. But here, I was beginning to realize how much I really didn’t know. We always joked about how Primes were “clueless berks.” But, now as I said to Beepu earlier it was just a lack of context. The nearest marauders to Sigil, were always just around the corner, but they were barred by portals or even just the will of the Lady herself. The last time the Blood War entered Sigil was hundreds of years ago. The damage was extensive, and that area is called the slags now. But the war was remote in most people’s minds.</p><p></p><p>Here, there were no portals, no gates, no walls. Here the monsters walked free and no power barred them. For that matter, I can see why powers matter more to the Primes. It probably mattered a lot to the travelers in that caravan. I tried to push the thought of their fate out of my mind. They’re in the deadbook now.</p><p></p><p>I’m not.</p><p></p><p>No…<em>we’re</em> not.</p><p></p><p>I look at the three. They banter easily about local goings on. I’ve never been that good at small talk. Or maybe it’s the small talk is always the same topic; how I am different. It took a long time to…be let in to a circle of friends in Sigil, almost all of them Sensates.</p><p></p><p>All but one dead. And that one…well he had enough torment for a lifetime or twelve. I didn’t want to dwell on that either.</p><p></p><p>At that point there was an exchange going on between the Knight and the Fingerpainter, when the Fingerpainter started to snore. The Knight poked him and pointed out the obvious and started to prepare for sleep. Looking at the others it was clear that everyone was exhausted from the fight. One by one, each settled into their bedroll to get comfortable.</p><p></p><p>“Night all,” I said and got various murmuring in response. I looked at the owl and it returned my gaze with a slow mechanical blink. </p><p></p><p>“I should really get a pet like you I suppose. But do me a favor, if I fall asleep and especially if I start snoring, wake me up.”</p><p></p><p>“Beeeppooo.”</p><p></p><p>“I hope you said, ‘Sure thing,’” and I looked out in the darkness as I started my first watch, hoping for a peaceful night. From the sounds though in the distance, it wasn’t going to be a quiet one.</p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>Session Notes:</strong></p><p>The combat was pretty much as written. Yes the witherlings wouldn’t attack me, and they were constantly redirecting themselves. Everyone can start playing guess the power set here. Also, for people wondering, the wizard never was a fan of using his owl for a help actions. It was weeks before he asked how that mechanic worked since he read about it online.</p><p> </p><p>Please feel free to PM on questions or comments. Would love to hear from 300+ viewers of this story.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Nthal, post: 7506082, member: 6971069"] [b]...With a spot of violence... (10/8)[/b] [CENTER][B]…with a spot of violence… [/B] [I]It’s a moment like this you wonder about your own life choices. “If I had made that turn, would I have avoided that gang that robbed me?” And that was my line of thinking; I just wasn’t sure whether the choice was agreeing to deliver that message to Barkis, or just getting up in the morning. I’m beginning to think the latter.[/I][/CENTER] The…undead…thing was ready to twist and bring that rusted mace into my ribs. But at the point it should have started swinging at me, it stopped. The dead white eyes stared at me, and it shivered intensely. Like it was fighting some other battle, trying to strike me. Finally, it stopped apparently losing and loped towards the others. I had barely any time to digest this sudden change, when I heard the whistling of an arrow. The arrow streaked at me, cutting my upper arm and I yelped in surprise. Looking down the line of wagons and carts, a figure had jumped out of the covered wagon. It had the same form of the undead thing; lupine head, shaggy short fur. But this one moved far livelier and looked comparatively healthy. I didn’t like the looks of it, and considering it was nocking another arrow it probably didn’t like me either. My other three companions also had their hands full, as at nearly the same time that the withered gnoll took a swing at the Fingerpainter, three other bodies suddenly decided to stand up. But despite the pain in my arm, I was focused on only one thing: Surviving. I moved to my right, trying to get a clear view of the gnoll with the bow. After moving about five paces, I had an opening. I focused a moment, reaching out to find the gnoll’s life force. I quickly find it and I utter a single word ‘[I]zalt’[/I] and a bolt of crackling purple energy streaks toward the gnoll, striking it hard in the chest. I then moved and found cover by a nearby tree and crouched low. The Fingerpainter, didn’t care much for the one that took a swing at him. He sent his owl skyward and then after some weaving and bobbing managed to conjure a mote of fire, and with force…hit the wagon next to him. Panicking, he ran to the other side of the wagon, narrowly avoiding getting hit with the mace. Now, all three the undead gnolls charged at our Tinman, and their weapons were simply knocked away by his shield, and he quickly did a savage cut against one of them. Then the Knight quickly moved behind it and made a quick slash across the hamstrings, causing its legs to buckle and it falling to its knees. Then he quickly spun out of the way from the other gnoll that stood beside his fallen companion, who was now swinging wildly at empty air. At this point another undead gnoll charged at me, and I gritted my teeth together, steeling myself for the inevitable blow. But, as with the first one it appeared to be struggling with an internal conflict on even trying to hit me. And again, it failed and charged back into the rest of our group, swinging its club and smashing it into the Tinman’s shield. I was getting the impression that they were actually [I]afraid[/I] of me. But that was silly wasn’t it? The undead don’t [I]fear[/I] mortals…right? But regardless of the undead one’s feelings, the live one was a different matter, and it took another shot at me going wide, and it then moved behind the wagon and into cover again. I returned the favor, and moved out more, flanking him just enough to get a clear shot. I threw another bolt of energy at it, striking it in the side, At this point the Fingerpainter changed his tactics with fire and changed to frost. Quickly pulling a small flask from a pouch he splashed some water onto his hand and with a quick motion hurled a frozen bolt towards the foursome now packed in close to the Tinman. The bolt hit one in the rear and it exploded in all directions, striking all the undead gnolls nearby. I could even hear the bones break from where I was crouched, and two of them fell to the ground. The two that remained didn’t react or even flinch. Oblivious to the magic behind them, they continued their assault on the Tinman. One manages to land a blow on his armor, resulting in a grunt. But it was enough to prevent him from getting a clean swing at either of the gnolls. The Knight again struck one of them true with his sword, puncturing deep in the ribcage from behind and felling it. The live gnoll again took another shot at me, the arrow sinking deep into the tree trunk. It was getting angry and sloppy, and it started to move closer towards me ignoring any nearby cover from the wagons. I simply stepped sideways from the tree, and threw another bolt, striking the gnoll again in the chest. I changed positions, leaving the tree and moving behind a wagon. Once there I drew a dagger from my belt, preparing for a close-up encounter with the gnoll. I checked my arm, and the bleeding had stopped for the moment. My heart was pounding hard, and yet I couldn’t feel the pain from my arm anymore. What I could feel was quite different. I felt exhilarated. I could feel my face ache from the wild smile on my lips. I felt [I]alive.[/I] I couldn’t see it, but I heard the whistling of a bolt of fire through the air, and the sound of a body hitting the ground. Then the sound of a blade swinging and cutting into a dried corpse and then a ‘thud’ as a body hit the earth. I had guessed that my companions struck true. Or if not, they weren’t screaming about it. Several things happened at once then; first I heard footsteps running and a blade cutting air, followed by the Knight’s voice swearing something. Then from around the corner of the wagon came the gnoll. Close up I could now see it in its full, ugly glory. The short fur on its face and body was a mess of blood, applied like war paint. Its foul stench filled my nostrils with a mixture of rot and filth. It swung at me wildly, but it wasn’t even close enough to strike me with the rusted blade in its hand. I recoiled and whispered ‘zalt,’ a bolt streaked out and struck it square in the face. I could see its eyes roll backward and it sank to its knees, and then falling forward into the dirt. The feeling of exhilaration had reached its peak. I felt powerful. I felt like I finally was in control. Coming around the wagon, the knight appeared with sword in hand ready to strike. Seeing the unmoving body on the ground his posture softened. “I think that was the last one,” he said breathing heavily. He glanced at his blade and after seeing no blood on it he sheathed it at his side. Looking at me again, he had a puzzled expression on his face. “Are you…alright Myrai?” I blinked and stammered, “Y-y-yes. I’m fine. Why?” “You just...look…never mind,” he said continuing to give me a strange look. He then changed the topic. “We probably should finish looking at stuff here and burn the bodies.” “Sure…I need a moment, and I’ll lend a hand.” He nodded and turning around, he returned back to the wagon where the others were. I stood there a moment. I had seen death many times in Sigil. Of friends. Of strangers. From violence. From starvation. Many deserved better fates and better endings. It’s what attracted me to Kelemvor to start with. Death was a certainty; embracing the end on your own terms was important. Helping others pass with dignity was another. But you didn’t [I]want[/I] death; you wanted a life to live out its allotment of time. You wanted to avoid ending to…anything but old age. So why was I so…so…excited on killing the one live gnoll? I didn’t regret killing it; it was a spawn of a demon lord. It was a plague of corruption. I was afraid for my life at the start, but I didn’t feel afraid when we attacked each other. But I was enjoying myself battling it and bringing it down. I didn’t know what I should have been feeling. But I put it out of my mind and rejoined the group. “I assume that’s the last of the musties,” I said as I approached. “Well I guess that depends on what a ‘mustie’ is. If you mean the witherlings, looks like it,” replied the Tinman. I nod, “Plus one live one.,” I wince as I start to come down from my euphoria and the pain of my arm starts to register. “I’m going to clean and bandage this. Anyone else hurt?” “Just a deep bruise really,” replied the Tinman. “Nothing broken, and no bleeding. I’m going to look at the other wagons though, I’ll be a moment,” and with that he moved towards a wagon, with this sword drawn. The Fingerpainter, raised his arm and his owl returned and alighted on his wrist. “Filthy witherlings! This tells me that any gnolls around here are in dire straits,” the Fingerpainter said, punctuating with a ball of spit on the ground. “Necromancy comes too easily to them. We don’t need undead in the world let alone undead gnolls. Both are disgusting enough, but combining them? I hope this first time is the last time.” I stared at the gnome, “What do you mean ‘first time?’” He turned his head to look at me, “Well, I have studied a lot about various schools of magic. But reading about the undead is a bit different than running into them.” This surprised me, “You mean, people don’t normally…well…animate them?” The Fingerpainter made a face, “No! That’s not proper! Most goodly folk would consider that an offense. Wait, why? What do you do in Sigil with undead?” “Well, the Dusties…er what used to be the Dustmen, collected the corpses of the dead and interred them in the mortuary based on their beliefs. But some poorer folk sold their future corpses for jink. They get animated and used as laborers.” “Why would they do a terrible thing like that? The gods don’t normally approve of such dirty things.” I felt relieved, “Well, being poor has a lot to do with it. Jink now, for a body that you aren’t going to miss later. But it’s nice to hear that not everyone animates the dead here.” The gnome nodded, “in the north here, very true. Now there are singular places that have more than their needed amount of undead. Like Warlock’s Crypt I have heard. But the only nation that has large concentrations of undead servants is Thay, far to the east. There the Zulkirs that study necromancy, animate…well whatever they want.” “Remind me not to visit,” I said trying to put the thought of cities crawling with the undead out of my mind. While we were talking I had with some difficulty cleaned out the cut with water from my waterskin. I was going to try to put on a bandage when the Knight intervened. “Let me. It’s hard enough with two hands, let alone one,” he said. I nodded and let him tie the makeshift bandage on. “I have a question though. Why didn’t the two witherlings attack you? I saw them run at you, and just as quickly run towards us. What did you do?” I thought a moment. It was a great question, but one I didn’t have an answer for. “I don’t know…I saw them try very hard to swing at me, but they were hesitant. But I didn’t [I]do[/I] anything. Not a spell.” The Fingerpainter chimed in, “Did you use that holy symbol on your neck?” “What? No…why would I do that?” I asked, as this was confusing to me. “Well, those with a lot of faith in their gods, sometime invest power their servants and they can then cause the undead to run and cower. Many clerics here can do this.” “Oh…I mean in Sigil while we have musties around, I don’t think I ever saw someone do that. I don’t know how, and I …don’t [I]think[/I] I did anything. Thanks Iesa, that should be good.” I said, as he finished tightening the cloth around the arrow wound. He nodded, “No problem. Sure it’s not too tight?” “No…it’s fine…really,” I looked at him. For some reason he looked nervous, or rather skittish. “I’m not a piece of delicate crockery…I’ll tell you if it hurts.” I said. “Yeah…right. We probably should look at the rest of the wagon’s here, see if anyone was hiding or there is stuff we can use.” And at that moment, the Tinman returned, “Nope…nothing living or dead beyond what we killed. And I’m pretty sure this isn’t a merchant caravan.” The Knight looked up with interest, “Why do you say that?” The Tinman continued, “No ‘goods.’ Just old furnishings, used farm tools and junk. Looks like homesteaders to me; probably fleeing their farms because of them,” he said pointing to the bodies. The Knight looked crestfallen, “Probably means not a lot of coin either.” “You are welcome to look, but I only poked at a box or two. Nothing obvious, and if I were a farmer, I’d probably keep my coin on me if I could. Which means the gnolls might have taken any coin accidentally.” I look at the Tinman, “What? They don’t loot?” “Well…they do. But not coin. They want people for…food,” he replied with a tone of disgust. “Why am I not surprised. Well I guess we can take what we need, but what then?” I said. The Knight then responded instead, “We should burn the corpses and get some distance. I’ll start looking for a spot for the night. But I’m going to double check the other wagons before we go.” I nodded and looked at the mess of corpses. I guessed that taking care of the dead wasn’t exclusive to uncorrupted peoples of the multiverse. I then started to drag the corpses into a pile on a patch of bare earth. As expected, beyond strips of leather and very poor weapons they had nothing of value. The Tinman came over with some chairs and broke them apart to make some kindling. The Knight returned with a look of disappointment on his face. But he did hand the Tinman a clay pot. He glanced quickly at the contents, nodded and poured the contents on the wood and bodies. “Hey Beepu, can I get a light?” the Knight called out. “Magic isn’t an art used to make things convenient because you can’t work a flint and steel.” The Fingerpainter preached in retort. “That’s nice. Just light it so we can leave before any other gnolls decide to show up.” The Knight replied “FOOM” and with an arrow of flame the Fingerpainter set the makeshift pyre alight, and soon became a roaring blaze. I bow my head, and utter a prayer, hoping the souls find their just judgement. We leave the remains of the caravan, and move with some haste, as the light from the setting sun was starting to fade. The Knight was ranging ahead looking for a place to camp. Sometime later, just as the sun sank below the horizon, he returned and motioned for us to follow him. He led us a small distance off the road to a gully. Down in the gully, the water had scooped out a cut underneath a formation of sandstone, providing cover from above, and a safe place to light a small fire. I took off my pack and set it on the ground. The Tinman called out my name and tossed me what looked to be a rolled bundle of cloth, leather and fur. I looked at him quizzically. “I found some bedrolls in the caravan, and I noticed Beepu and you didn’t seem to have one.” He stated. “We should gather some wood for a fire and setup watch.” “Thanks…didn’t even think of it. But what do you mean by ‘watch?’” I asked. He looked at me with surprise, “You really haven’t been outside a city much. Someone that keeps an eye on the fire, and for trouble. I assume that you wizards will either want the first or last to get your beauty sleep.” I give him a level look and replied drily, “Thanks for the concern. I’ll take the first I guess. And also, I’m not a wizard.” “I had wondered about that,” the Fingerpainter chimed in. “You mentioned being able to take care of yourself. I thought it was with those daggers. But now with your explanation of planar mechanics I see I was in error. You must have sorcery in your blood.” “I guess...It was only in the last four years I could cast anything. And I don’t have a book of spells. So, I suppose it’s accurate.” I said. “Well, magic is magic no matter what the source. Now, I don’t think we need watches at all. Foggle can watch for all of us.” The Fingerpainter said looking at his mechanical owl with pride. “If it can see in the dark, it’s a help since you’re the only other one that can. But I’m not going to let it be our only eye for trouble.” The Knight disdainfully said, looking at the owl. “Well, since [I]you two[/I] are the only ones,” pointing at the Knight and the Tinman,” that can’t see in the dark, why don’t you take a watch together with the owl. “Oh! That would be a help…only half of us will be blind then. Won’t matter though…we’ll likely hear them before we see them,” the Tinman said with a smirk. And at that moment, I understood why. I could hear them in the distance. High pitched yipping and what almost sounded like laughter. “That doesn’t sound like the gnoll I just killed,” I said listening intently. “No…those are the hyenas that follow them around. It’s said after a hyena eats its fill from leavings from the gnolls, that a new gnoll is born…or bursts forth. Something like that.” The Knight said. “Anyway, they’re scavengers Not much for sneaking when gnolls…and food are around.” “Great.” I said. “Something to listen to.” We laid out our bed rolls and munched on the rations; some type of mix of nuts, take and jerky. Dry but filling and I admit it was better than some gruel I had in the Gatehouse. The other three were talking some small talk, but I was lost in my own thoughts. I always thought I was, if not well lanned was lanned enough. But here, I was beginning to realize how much I really didn’t know. We always joked about how Primes were “clueless berks.” But, now as I said to Beepu earlier it was just a lack of context. The nearest marauders to Sigil, were always just around the corner, but they were barred by portals or even just the will of the Lady herself. The last time the Blood War entered Sigil was hundreds of years ago. The damage was extensive, and that area is called the slags now. But the war was remote in most people’s minds. Here, there were no portals, no gates, no walls. Here the monsters walked free and no power barred them. For that matter, I can see why powers matter more to the Primes. It probably mattered a lot to the travelers in that caravan. I tried to push the thought of their fate out of my mind. They’re in the deadbook now. I’m not. No…[I]we’re[/I] not. I look at the three. They banter easily about local goings on. I’ve never been that good at small talk. Or maybe it’s the small talk is always the same topic; how I am different. It took a long time to…be let in to a circle of friends in Sigil, almost all of them Sensates. All but one dead. And that one…well he had enough torment for a lifetime or twelve. I didn’t want to dwell on that either. At that point there was an exchange going on between the Knight and the Fingerpainter, when the Fingerpainter started to snore. The Knight poked him and pointed out the obvious and started to prepare for sleep. Looking at the others it was clear that everyone was exhausted from the fight. One by one, each settled into their bedroll to get comfortable. “Night all,” I said and got various murmuring in response. I looked at the owl and it returned my gaze with a slow mechanical blink. “I should really get a pet like you I suppose. But do me a favor, if I fall asleep and especially if I start snoring, wake me up.” “Beeeppooo.” “I hope you said, ‘Sure thing,’” and I looked out in the darkness as I started my first watch, hoping for a peaceful night. From the sounds though in the distance, it wasn’t going to be a quiet one. [B] Session Notes:[/B] The combat was pretty much as written. Yes the witherlings wouldn’t attack me, and they were constantly redirecting themselves. Everyone can start playing guess the power set here. Also, for people wondering, the wizard never was a fan of using his owl for a help actions. It was weeks before he asked how that mechanic worked since he read about it online. Please feel free to PM on questions or comments. Would love to hear from 300+ viewers of this story. [/QUOTE]
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