RuneQuest - Cayuga's Tale - Guardians of Highmead [Upd 29th Sept]

[PieAndDragon]

This story hour continues on from the Tale of Teal Flameshot, also an ENWorld.

Introduction

Welcome Friend, to my tale, one of greed, danger and brutal bloody violence.

My family know me as Cayuga, my fellow cultists known me as Lightstep and others label me as one of the Muskovy family. My friends know me as Kay. Sadly, I have few friends.

I am plain-spoken, never shy with my opinions. No-one would describe me as pretty, indeed I am rarely spoken of at all. Although taller than most girls, I do my best to remain unnoticed and unseen, preferring others to bask in the attention of onlookers. Being noticed is not my desire.

My family, the Muskovy, were cursed centuries ago, forced to follow the martial god Yelmalio, who claims mastery over the sky and sun. I have yet to see him riding up there among the clouds. Our ancestor Arn-Muskovy, made a dark pact with our master, exchanging our freedom and years for mastery of powerful rune magics, dooming us to servitude for all of our lives.

Some, such my cousin Teal, revel in this service, seeking battle and trying to find glory in the name of the Sky Lord. I look on it in a different manner. I wish to stay alive, to live to a ripe old age in luxury and grand surroundings.

To my knowledge, none of my family have ever braved the wrath of our fiery lord my serving another. Or if they have, it has been erased from our family’s knowledge. I have no desire to follow the generations of Muskovy’s into an early death, like that of my uncle, father or older sister, or in childbirth like my own mother, who bore my younger brother and the her eighth child of the Muskovy clan. Nor does the fate of my grandfather, spending his last days lonely in a roofless tower, seeking the mysteries of Yelmalio, appeal to me.

I wish to find my own fate.

Johnstown, the city which we call home, has come upon hard times recently, with many of its priests slaughtered by the forces of Chaos, and rumours of distant armies looking to take advantage of our weakness. The Muskovy family have lost many members, leaving me, at nineteen, one of the eldest left alive.

Before now, I have travelled around a little, spending time with different companions, never staying too long in any place, or with any people. By nature I am quiet, adept at avoiding notice by friend or foe, finding things others don’t want found, dodging trouble where I can. When trouble does find me, I am trained with spear, javelin and bow, as are most of my cult.

A year and a half ago, I took the vows of an initiate, as expected for one in my family. I have always had a good sense of balance and co-ordination, but after my ritual I have found both to be heightened, granting me unnatural grace and speed. Among my vows, I promised to give up all meat, show kindness always to horses, never cover my arms with leather, avoid the use of flails and whips and never trust the race known as dwarfs. In recognition of my gift and natural tendencies, they gave me the title of “Lightstep”. There are far worse names I could go as.

Soon after I took my vows, I married married Finnan, a farmer and priest of an earth cult, something arranged by my family and cult when I was but a child. I have seen very little of him, and wish it to remain that way. No children will I bear to live under the Muskovy curse.

I have yet to give any speeches for my cult, unable to understand or speak any of the archaic tongue all Yelmalio services are given in. My skills lie not in speaking with others, as I am best used as a scout or spy, hiding where others cannot.

For the last year, I have spent my time among the arid grasslands of the Balazar, a land of primitive hunters a Season’s travel from Jonstown, investigating the cult of Yelmalio there at the behest of my own. Most of my time was spent drinking with the locals, hunting the beasts which roam the plains. Now I return to my home city, and look forward to seeing civilisation once more.

I am Cayuga Muskovy, known as Lightstep, and this is my tale.

 

[PieAndDragon]

Cayuga Muskovy "Lightstep"

Human (Sartarite) Female, 19 Years of Age
STR 10 CON 15 SIZ 14 INT 14 POW 5 DEX 21 CHA 6
Hit Points: 16
Skills: Blade Venom II, Camouflage 30, Climbing 35, Defence 20, Evaluate Treasure 10, Hide in Cover 70, Hide Item 30, Jumping 35, Listen 30, Lock Picking 25, Map Making 30, Move Silently 70, Oratory 5, Pick Pockets 20, Read Sartarite 15, Riding(Horse) 25, Speak Balazaring 35, Speak Sartarite 70, Spot Hidden Item 25, Spot Trap 10, Swimming 35, Taste Analysis 10, Tracking 15, Trap Set / Disarm 35
Weapons: Self Bow (Att 40, Parry 25), Javelin (Att 85), Longspear 2H (Att 75, Parry 75)
Spells: Disruption, Heal I, Invisibility, Speed Dart

 

[PieAndDragon]

Homecoming

My return to Jonstown went largely unnoticed among my cult and family. Many of the Muskovy family were surprised to know I had even been away. The superiors who had sent me in the first place asked some questions, but soon lost interest when informed the cult of Yelmalio in Balazor were little more than glorified hunters, disinterested in the mysteries of the Sky Lord, using their positions as status symbols and little more. I think I would enjoy their version of the cult more than the one here, but neglected to tell my priests that.

I had four days in the city before my cult had another assignment for me. A brief gathering of the Muskovies brought me up to date with family happenings in the last year. Several marriages, three deaths and one cousin becoming a Light Son of Yelmalio. One of those who died was Teal, a cousin I grew up with, playing in the Muskovy farmlands and Jonstown streets together. He was a fervent follower of the Sky Lord, arrogant and opinionated sometimes, but I’ll miss him all the same. He died battling creatures of chaos far away from Jonstown, in service to the temple of Yelmalio. A fate I don’t intend to share.

Destiny works in ways mortals cannot hope to understand, as I soon found out. One of my superiors had a powerful friend in the Sevankan Cult, and a piece of news I had brought back from Balazor was of interest to them. A marauding troll I had heard rumour of was guilty of the most heinous crime of theft, having stolen the helmet of this priestess among the Sevankans. In their wisdom, my superiors decided I would make the perfect guide for a small group who would hunt down this troll and retrieve the helmet. Needless to say, I was ecstatic to be returning to the backwater lands I had only recently vacated.

One of my cousins told me the priests had noticed my lack of attention during dawn services, and that was part of the reason for me to be on my way in such a small space of time. What do they expect when all services are held in the archaic tongue of Firespeech, and they have yet to teach me any words beyond “No” and “Yes”. Getting up at dawn is hard enough, and having to listen to a long drawn-out speech on an unknown subject just sends you back to sleep and dreams.

My new companions were three in number, the only female being Khaki, a diminutive brown-haired follower of Savanka with a sharp temper, lugging a sturdy shield and heavy mace. Hoisin is an initiate of Humakt, a brash warrior with fast hands and keen eyes, who says what he thinks and keeps his numerous swords at the ready. The last of the three was a large well-made man by the name of Liverpate, another acolyte of Humakt, although not yet an initiate. As well as the twin swords his cult are known for, this warrior bears a fearsome poleaxe, a weapon requiring great strength to use effectively.

These would be the people I had to rely on in the days to come.

 

[PieAndDragon]

Trail to Balazor

We spent little time in introductions, and I had several weeks to become used to my fellow travellers. The three were used to each other and had fought in battle side-by-side before, if their tales were true. Khaki and Hoisin had known each other the longest, often referring to missing companions dead or retired from the adventuring life. From what I heard, they have seen their share of terrifying, wondrous and bizarre things in the world.

Hoisin seemed unconvinced by my answers to queries on my battle skills. He sneered when told I preferred to avoid fights, unimpressed when I mentioned tactics of stealth and patience. The javelin and bow were questioned as choices for battle, of no use when foes came close. He told me he disliked those who could not hold their own in combat, shaking his head at mention I was reasonable with a spear. The other two are less narrow-minded, more appreciating that there are times for violence, and other times for caution instead.

I soon learnt that, until recently, they had been companions of my cousin Teal. He journeyed with them into troll lands and back, only to die at the hands of man-scorpions a weeks travel from Jonstown. Neither they nor I will miss Teal too much. Pious and a skilled warrior he was, but overbearing, overzealous, arrogant and too opinionated to be borne for long. He got what he wanted and deserved, a violent a bloody death in battle, in service to the Sky Lord.

Orville, my spirit-bound hawk, was happy to be away from Jonstown, glorifying in his freedom on the winds, diving occasionally to pick off a rabbit or rat with sharp claws. He has been my loyal friend for nearly two years, a present from my father before he died in the chaos attacks soon after. I know where he is at all times, and sometimes lean on his strength in dangerous times, drawing power through the link which binds us.

A couple of weeks out of Jonstown, folk from a small village greeted Hoisin and Khaki, with one particular girl most happy to see the Humakti swordsman. They had defended the village a couple of years before, and provided us with most welcome hospitality. We didn’t stay longer than the one night, with Hoisin keen to move on as soon as possible.

We slept wherever was convenient, sometimes in caves, other times by streams, among defensible rocks or in tree copses, starting to show life after the winter cold. In the evenings we told various stories and tales, sometimes our own, sometimes of others, from folklore, legend and more personal sources. I spoke of my family and its curse and they of battles with rubble runners, trolls, baboons and rock lizards. We kept our skills honed, practicing with spears, axes, blades and maces. I experimented several times with my own bastard swords, hoping to eventually master the fighting style of simultaneous spear and sword another initiate had demonstrated at the temple of Yelmalio while I was in Jonstown

The two Humakti would normally drink into the early hours, long after the women had retired for their sleep. I would relieve the two for the night watch, content with my own company for a few hours, catching more sleep when Khaki took over into the dawn hours. Unlike my brethren and family, I rarely meet the sun at dawn to sing praises to the Sky Lord, as noon is as good a time as any. Most mornings Khaki and I would share a breakfast between the two of us, she cooking me a meatless meal in exchange for several rabbits Orville took down for us. We are coming to a good understanding, the Savankan and I.

We saw few others along the way, as I guided them with vague memories of the route taken a year before. One evening we avoided a cave with bear tracks before it, seeking not to anger such a dangerous creature without due cause. Another night we were attacked by a large pack of wolves, nearly ten strong. But with my warnings, my companions roused themselves quickly enough to drive the animals away. I slew three of the beasts with javelin and spear, and Khaki and Liverpate claimed two more apiece. Yet Hoisin was unimpressed by my prowess, even as he could claim no carcasses for his own, decrying wolves as no danger to warriors such as us.

I saw the deep bite wounds Khaki took, and definitely disagree.

As we came nearer to the Balazar hunting grounds, and still encountered no other people, I started to hunt bison to supplement our food, even though my vows to Yelmalio prevent me from eating meats. Strangely, a few corpses to feast on seemed to improve Hoisin’s opinion of me, such are the things minds of men are swayed by.

After almost two months of travel, I was sure we were in Balazor lands, and finally encountered some sign of sentient creatures. What looked to be a burial mound rose from the grasslands around, and I went alone to investigate, using the grass to cover my approach. A bizarre cockerel-headed lizard-like creature guarded the pile of earth, but no other sign of others was visible. After returning to the others we approached again, and the creature moved to block us, but did not attack. Hoisin circled round and investigated the mound more closely, but found no openings or other signs of sentient marks.

To my surprise, the others were content not to attack the indignant guard, assuming this was a burial ground to be left alone. My companions may be less bloodthirsty than I initially imagined. Perhaps this time in Balazor can be profitable for us all.

 

[PieAndDragon]

Mykene, Town of the Balazoring

My companions seemed less than impressed with my navigational skills, as we found ourselves two days the wrong side of Mykene, the town I was searching for. The first humans we had seen in about sixteen weeks were Balazoring of the White Goat Clan, a hunting party who treated us with caution. They are simple folk, wearing furs and using weapons of flint and wood. Some wore pieces of leather armour, but little metal was seen among them.

I acted as translator, for my companions can speak not a word of the tongue in these lands. After directing us toward Mykene, my companions made me trade any beer or spirits they might have, gaining several pints of elkoi beer in exchange for ancient javelins Khaki had carried all the way from Jonstown.

We bade farewell and drank our newly acquired beer, relishing the bitter, distinct taste, heading toward the town. For a sixteen week journey through unfamiliar land, I was proud to be only two days away from the place we sought.

A day and a half later, out of beer and looking forward to the company of other people, strangers sought us out. They flew toward us on giant hawks, circling several times and landing a small distance away. Armoured in metal and riding beasts such as these, they could only be guardsmen of the Mykene king, checking up on us.

King is a generous word for the ruler of Mykene, a town of not even one thousand people. But when your guards wear metal and you are in control of one of only two settlements above a hundred people, you can call yourself whatever you want. Most of the Balazor are nomadic, with little need for kings. I have no idea what name most of the clans give him.

We approached the four guardsmen, sat atop eagles far larger than horses, and I spoke to them in their own tongue, telling them we were searching for a troll known to be active in Balazor lands, hunting it for the helm it had stolen from one we knew. After consulting among themselves, they informed us we would need an escort, and left toward Mykene, leaving one of their own to keep watch on us. Apparently all strangers need an escort into the town. I forgot to mention to them I had been into the town before, and no escort had been given me.

Our escort, when it arrived, interrupted Hoisin and Liverpate’s dagger throwing practice, which both proving fairly inept. Hoisin was the better, though by a small margin. The five warriors comprising our escort were also members of the king’s guard. They were likewise armoured in metal, carrying spears and swords. Their captain gave his name as Bobandi Hawkeye, but beyond this he answered few questions, remaining stoic and silent when faced with questions.

We let our escort walk ahead of us, as I attempted to teach my companions the basics of the Balazoring tongue. After several swear words, various body parts, how to order an ale and ask where the nearest temple of the healing goddess was, we had reached Mykene. Despite its small population, it has massive fortifications and some impressive buildings, having been built in the foundations of a far older city. The Mykene are very fond of pigs, and the smell of swine and swineherds was one of the first things we noticed.

From the gates our escort took us to meet the king, who was apparently awaiting us. King Skillfill Heartpiercer was not in his throne room when we were lead in, although several advisors and more guards were. Khaki refused to kneel before the throne, and was lead back outside by the guards, glaring balefully at them as they did so. Once the king approached and sat upon his throne, an advisor addressed us in Sartarite, once they found only I spoke any of their tongue. They questioned us on our reasons for being in Mykene, disappointed to learn we were not traders. The whole meeting took a short time, with the king not speaking at all, only gazing at Hoisin, almost as if sizing him up.

Once we left the court we were free to wander Mykene, visiting Khaki briefly at the gates. Seeing all of the town isn’t a task which takes very long, and inevitably leads to the Stabbing Cat, an inn run by a Sartarite, known for expensive beers and rooms. I used to drink there during my first stay in Mykene, although few would remember me. After two expensive rounds of drinks, my companions had already had enough of the place, but through the landlord we found out the troll we sought had last been seen in Griffyn Clan lands.

After a couple more hours in town, we had tracked down the Treeghost Clan, allies of the Griffyn, who not only told us more about our quarry, but knew someone who was heading in the direction we needed to go. Before dusk, we had left Mykene, rejoining Khaki and travelling alongside Orori Tigerteeth, glad to see the back of the town of pigs, expensive beers and over-proud kings.

 

[PieAndDragon]

The Griffyn Clan

Orori Tigerteeth was a member of the Great Bison Clan, glad of the company for a few days, guiding us in exchange for food caught by my eagle, chatting amiably with me for the time we were together. He talked of the clans around, of King Heartpiercer’s magical spear, which could be thrown of incredible distances, of his family and his aspirations in life. It was good to talk to another, one who lived not the violent lives of my companions and myself.

Apart from a herd of four massive lizards known as brontosauruses, scaring all the game for miles around, our journey was quiet, Orori heading his own way on the third day from Mykene. With our guide gone, I sent my hawk, Orville, to scout for any other creatures. We had been warned of aggressive primitive creatures, known as baboons, the young males of which were active during this season, seeking to prove themselves worthy of mates.

My loyal companion found us more humans a couple of days later, and we followed their trail, deviating slightly away from our destination, catching up with hunters from the Black Lion clan. They were guarded with us, but did confirm the Griffyn clan could be found nearby and pointed us on our way. Another couple of days and Orville’s keen eyes brought us to a gathering of around seventy people. We had found the Clan of the Griffyn.

It took some time to gain their attention, as the entire clan appeared to be discussing something with some urgency. Once again, I was our main speaker, and managed to convince some of the clansmen to let me speak to their leaders. I went alone to their elders, who cared little that we sought a troll known for killing in their lands. They had problems of their own with a group of baboons, who had killed many of their clan in recent weeks. Spotting a chance to help, I started to bargain.

In less than an hour later, it was agreed. We would lead half a dozen of their huntsmen to drive off the baboons, and they would guide us to the troll in return.

Our quarry gathered around a blazing fire, so involved in their ritual, they did not notice our approach. Eleven baboons were gathered in all, some wearing pieces of leather armour, and all carrying axes, spears and other weapons. Our allies pointed out two strong warriors, each responsible for the deaths of many Griffyn Clan members, and the leader, a shaman of their kind, strong in spirit and magic. As agreed, we formed a battle line and our allies stayed back, from where they could unleash a storm of arrows.

The first volley took down the two strongest warriors, and two more fell soon on the second. My companions used disrupting spells as I my arrows joined those of the Griffyn huntsmen. Howling in their bestial tongue, our foes responded with magic of their own, directing most of their power toward Hoisin, causing him pain but leaving him standing. We responded with more arrows, and they soon changed tactics.

A few charged toward us, and others used slings, their leader retreating out of bow range. Arrows, javelins and spells ensured that only two reached us, Liverpate and Khaki engaging one as Hoisin took on the second, allowing me to circle and flank it from behind, running it through with my spear. Our two companions had more trouble with their baboon, a large specimen who had entered some sort of berserk frenzy, hacking away at Liverpate, who had a faraway look of concentration on his face and several nasty gashes to his leg and chest. The beast paid little heed to myself and Hoisin as we surrounded it, and Khaki proved of little more help as she too looked to be in another place. Between us Hoisin and I cut the beast down, looking for any more foe who might threaten us.

His warriors dead or dying, the baboon shaman fled the field of battle, my arrows following to make sure he wouldn’t return. A cry behind me alerted me to the strange sight of Liverpate fleeing into the darkness, with nothing in pursuit. As we made sure our foes were dead, another cry rang out, and I turned again, to see Khaki smash her mace into the last baboon we had faced in hand-to-hand, rising from the dead. With a mangled arm, it ran into the darkness, much to the amazement of us all.

Little time was wasted as we burnt the baboon bodies, finding a small amount of coins and jewellery on them. The Griffyn hunters turned down the trinkets we offered, content that no more of their clansfolk would die to these baboons. Our two companions told Hoisin and I of spirits attacking them as we fought the baboons, trying to snuff out their souls and remove them from existence. I knew little of it, but Hoisin said he had encountered such things before. With luck this will be the last time I hear of such beings.

Within the hour, we were ready to return to the Griffyn Clan.

 

[PieAndDragon]

Troll in the Dark

We stayed with our new friends of the Griffyn Clan for a week, as they sent out scouts looking for the troll we sought. Most of our time was spent hunting, foraging and training, having our first rest since leaving Jonstown. My companions picked up bits and pieces of Balazoring, and even I learnt a few new words. But even as we relaxed for a short time, our true goal was in our minds.

Halfway through our time among the Griffyn, another stranger arrived. Like us, he was from Jonstown, but gave no reason for being in Balazoring. He had heard about us in Mykene and tracked us down, hoping we would be making the return journey to our home city, and wishing to join us if we were. We made an agreement with him, letting him accompany us in return for the use of his sword-arm against the troll. Widgeon Crescent is an unremarkable man, with cropped brown hair and a guarded manner. Like us, he is well armed and armoured and travels on horseback.

By the end of a week, the Griffyn Clan had found signs of a large troll and several trollkin, probably the ones we hunted. They spent their nights in a small wood, roaming away by day but leaving no tracks near to their haven. It was now down to us to confront the troll and regain the helm Khaki was pursuing.

Leaving the Balazor tribe, we rode with a guide to the wood, searching around the edges but finding no tracks. Creeping in alone and leaving Orville to watch from above, there were no signs of creatures and only a shrine which the Griffyn had mentioned. It was a small clearing, ringed by ten boulders around a yard across each, but with no inscriptions or signs of religious significance. After a brief discussion, we decided to wait on the edge of the copse, with my hawk ready to warn us if our quarry approached.

Night came, and in the darkening skies my flying companion saw signs of a troll and the troll-kin. Not wanting to fight our foes in the dark, we left the woods and camped a few miles away, adding Widgeon to watch alongside Khaki in the night. There was one brief scare, Orville finding a group of humanoids during his night flight on my watch, but they travelled past, never coming nearer than a mile. After breakfast we found their tracks, identifying a family group of baboons travelling away from the woods. They would be no danger to us.

We returned to find the wood much the same as before, with no tracks or creatures to be found. I crept in once more, but this time did disturb some sort of creature, as Orville reported a small winged form move out of my path to elsewhere in the trees. There were no signs of it that I could find, and even our own tracks had been removed, covered by some strange magic.

After more discussions, my idea of burning down the forest was discarded, and we settled for a bonfire in the middle of the clearing. With Widgeon and my own help, Liverpate moved one boulder to the middle of the clearing, and wood was piled around it. After scouting the surrounding trees several more times, I settled into position in a branch overlooking the shrine and fire. Hoisin protested at first, wanting me on foot to fight hand-to-hand, refusing my insistence that my strength is with javelin and bow, rather than up close with spear or blade. Luckily he is not our leader, and when Liverpate supported my position as tactically sound, he backed down, remaining tetchy for the rest of the afternoon until dark.

 

[PieAndDragon]

Return Journey

Once Hoisin returned our shouts, we turned our attention to the spoils of battle. As Khaki claimed the torn helm we were left with scraps of bronze armour, a heavy lead breastplate, and a map none of us could decipher. I recognised some of the features as those of Balazor, so we packed it to sell once we returned to Jonstown. After a few minutes, Hoisin’s sight returned, and after checking our horses were fine, we bedded down for the night.

Having a unanimous dislike of the land, we left by the most direct route we could, eager to be on our way and returning to the our home city. I didn’t want to see the grassy plains of Balazor for a long, long time. It had little to offer beyond a few tribes of primitive hunters, families of baboons, and large families of various beasts. Its only meagre makings of civilisation were two unkempt towns, one ruled over by a man who mistakenly called himself a king.

Our return journey was unremarkable, as we avoided the tracks of dangerous beasts, and had fair weather the whole way. Widgeon did his part in the watches and around the camps and but kept himself apart from us much of the time. Supplemented by the catches of myself and my faithful hawk, we dined on trail rations, fungi and roots. After nine weeks we were ready for other company, and welcomed the sight of Jonstown’s walls.

Not so welcome however, was the reaction when we returned the battered helm to the priestess of Savanka. She took it, and that was it. Apparently Khaki was repaying a debt by retrieving it. My temple had sent me on a wild goose trek which had taken half a year. Maybe they like me as much as I like them. We split what little spoils we had, selling pieces of troll armour and other petty valuables. Our only finds of value were a silver bracelet which allowed the user to use a strength spell, and a potent potion of healing. Which left us only the troll’s map to sell.

We grew suspicious when three temples made us good offers, including my own. Further investigation revealed that the map displayed the location of a troll priest’s tomb, long sought after by treasure hunters. After negotiations with all three temples, we sold a copy to the church of Yelmalio, waiting a week to then sell the original to the healing cult and kept a copy ourselves. The proceeds made up the majority of our profits from the Expedition. Any hopes we had of tracking down the tomb disappeared when my fiery comrades sent gryphon riders to loot the temple in the name of the Sun Lord.

My next few weeks were spent relaxing a little, visiting some family members, avoiding others, learning the basics of Firespeech, undergoing two weeks of gruelling exercises to improve my upper body strength, drinking in various taverns and enjoying my time in civilisation. After talking to my superiors, it was agreed that I had worked most of my yearly tribute to Yelmalio already, only requiring one more week in the temple’s service. They also agreed to let me train others in the javelin or take the lessons on grace, coordination and speed. My relations with my temple appear to have improved in recent weeks.

I also made the first step to testing the limits of the Muskovy Curse. Gathering up my courage, I approached the temple of Humakt, swore to uphold their codes and beliefs, and joined as a lay member, finishing with a drunken celebration including Liverpate and Hoisin. There is a rivalry between Yelmalio and Humakt, and to my knowledge, none of my family have joined the Humakti. Certainly none have left the cult of Yelmalio and lived to tell the tale. All I am searching for is a path outside of the one laid down for the Muskovy family, free to choose the life we live. Maybe there is no spirit watching over us, or any bonds to the Sun Lord. I will take great care in the coming weeks.

The temple of Yelmalio found a warrior who needed training in javelin techniques, but we were interrupted after three days by Hoisin. The Initiate of Humakt had been asked by his cult to destroy a band of broo spreading disease and corruption in a town a weeks travel away. He had gathered supplies from his temple, and already convinced Khaki to join him, Liverpate and another initiate of Humakt named Drake. Arranging for another priest to take over the javelin tuition, I gathered my things and made ready for another adventure.

And in all my time back in the city, I had yet to see the man I married.

 

[PieAndDragon]

Cayuga Muskovy "Lightstep"

Human (Sartarite) Female, 20 Years of Age
STR 11 CON 15 SIZ 14 INT 14 POW 5 DEX 21 CHA 6
Hit Points: 16
Skills: Blade Venom II, Camouflage 30, Climbing 40, Defence 25, Evaluate Treasure 10, Hide in Cover 70, Hide Item 30, Jumping 40, Listen 35, Lock Picking 25, Map Making 35, Move Silently 70, Oratory 5, Pick Pockets 20, Read Sartarite 15, Riding(Horse) 35, Speak Balazaring 40, Speak Firespeech 5, Speak Sartarite 70, Spot Hidden Item 35, Spot Trap 10, Swimming 35, Taste Analysis 10, Tracking 20, Trap Set / Disarm 35
Weapons: Self Bow (Att 45, Parry 25), Javelin (Att 90), Longspear 2H (Att 75, Parry 80)
Spells: Disruption, Heal I, Invisibility, Speed Dart

Items: Silver bracelet with Strength Matrix

 

[PieAndDragon]

Drake One-Arm

My first impressions of Drake were mixed. Hoisin knew him from his first days in Jonstown, where they fought alongside Khaki, a third initiate of Humakt named Haran and a slightly insane archer called Mallard. The band split when Haran retired to tend his parents’ inn, Mallard fell in battle to baboons and Drake lost his right arm to the same creatures. Hoisin told me that since then Drake had concentrated on fighting one-armed, guarding caravans and fighting the occasional bandit.

When we were first introduced, I found Drake to be an unremarkable man, with unkempt brown hair and a permanent scowl. His right arm ended just below the elbow, capped by a hook of bronze, little use in battle. His eyes made me uncomfortable, as they followed me constantly, filled with suspicion, giving the impression he was weighing my sins. My recent joining of the Humakt cult did not impress him in any way. I have yet to see how a one-armed warrior will cope with the rigours of close combat. Like the rest of my companions, he bears no ranged weapons, reducing his options to outfighting his foes with a single blade.

My companions had also spent much of their time since returning from Balazor training, and Khaki has been promoted to an Initiate of Sevanka, no doubt for her dedication in retrieving an artifact from far-away Balazor. Liverpate has continued been trained in healing magics and Hoisin spent his time training with blades and training his eyes to find hidden things.

With all five of us on horseback, we made good time along the trail, stopping in villages or towns overnight when they were available. Both Drake and Hoisin ride battle-trained beasts, used to the sounds and sights of combat, ready to stand their ground in danger. Such beasts are expensive to replace, however. When we did stop, we kept alert for danger, aware that our cult symbols and armaments may attract unwanted attention. Hoisin demonstrated unusual friendliness in such places, talking with nearly everyone, getting to know them for no greatly apparent reason.

In one busy tavern several days after leaving Jonstown, Hoisin warned us of sensing hostility from some we spoke of. Humakt granted him some kind of sixth sense when people he knows mean him harm, and there were people hostile to him here. We kept our eyes out for obvious signs of danger, consuming no more intoxicating brews that evening. Doubly alert during the night spent in a barn, morning arrived with no signs of disturbance.

Leaving Orville circling behind us to check for anyone following us, we headed on. A few hours later, my hawk reported a group of six unarmoured and lightly armed men following us on foot, although he lost them after a couple more hours among trees and shrubbery. Apprehensive that they may be using some sort of magic to move quickly, we covered our tracks and found open ground to camp on that evening. But apart from wild animals, our night was quiet once more. Debating whether we had lost the men, or if they had even been following us in the first place, I sent my hawk to look ahead of us again.

A few miles later, we were warned that they were waiting in the road ahead, no different to the day before. We knew not how they had gotten ahead of us, when we were mounted and they were not. I argued for leaving the road to go around them, but hotter heads prevailed, and we prepared to meet them, all but Hoisin and Drake leaving our mounts a short way from where the men awaited.

Weapons ready, we approached.