Hello! This is my first post to EN World, but I'd like to share with you my character's journal from a brand new campaign we have started. My friend Jorge has developed his own homebrewed world over many (at least 10) years, and it is a truly well thought out setting.
He has named this campaign the Age of Blood, and has offered us a 10% XP bonus if we write a journal of the session's events from our own character's point of view.
Anyway, I don't want to give away many details, but here is the first chapter from our sessions. I hope you enjoy it. Please forgive any grammatical errors, but English is not my first language.
Feedback is always welcomed!
Eloy
------------------------------------------------------------------
Girion's Tale
'Tis a strange thing, death. Even as I lie here dying, my mind plays tricks on me. Familiar faces fade in and out of my vision. Kalten, Segnarus, Landotharan. And I wonder: are you here or do I imagine you? Do you still live or have I summoned you from the grave? I see your lips move but I cannot hear any words. A loud roaring fills my ears. Is it the din of battle I hear, or the rushing of blood through my veins as my heart beats its last?
Unanswered questions and philosophical rhetoric are swept away as bittersweet memories flood through my head. Childhood in Roedran, The green forests of my youth. Father teaches me the bow and the sword. The ways of the woods and the Huntmaster's duties. Tears at mother's funeral. Gavin by my side. The newborn baby in my arms. Larae, sweet Larae...
The call of the horns, the thundering of hooves, the thrill of the first hunt. The pull of a fine yew bow. Easy now, deep breath. Steady. Slowly exhale and... Release! The stag falls. Heart's blood warm and salty in my mouth. "You are a hunter now, Girion." My father's proud smile.
A bent branch, a broken twig, a half-hidden footprint on the trail. Tracking, pursuing, hunting. Cruel Orcish blades, fell goblin spears. Border Guards hunt the Kundrian prey.
Dire news interrupt the hunt: "Roedran burns! Roedran burns!" Larae! Gavin! Father! Despair and grief. Lost, they are lost. Ah! Mercy! Such cruel fate. Kundrian slave pits or foul cooking fires. Hurt. Anger. Hate! Countless Orcs fall to my blade. Revenge, sweet revenge...
War. Death. Despair. Anguish. Grief. At long last, tears come and wash my soul clean. Hate subsides, emotions return. Though the battle continues, my sanity has been reclaimed.
Medore. Lord Erecos. The war approaches an end, and I meet three men who will change my views of the world. Segnarus, who teaches me respect for the law, and the certainty of a man's word. Kalten, whose faith inspires me to believe in gods I have long mistrusted. Landotharan, who reminds me of the cold-hearted killer I once became.
At least there is no pain. As I float in peaceful darkness, time slows down. Memories become more vivid, and I relive that fateful day when our adventure began...
* * *
"We're almost upon them," I whispered to myself. I would have had to shout to have my words heard above the noise of galloping hooves and the rushing of the wind as we raced across the countryside.
On either side of me, Segnarus and Landotharan rode light, swift steeds, bred for speed and endurance. Kalten lagged behind us on his heavier destrier bred for war.
The three riders who were our prey also rode light horses, but the distance between us slowly decreased to three hundred yards. The riders, half-orcs and human mercenaries in the employ of the traitor Tobias, spurred their mounts on and were soon lost to our view. They rode up a hillock amidst the plains north of Medore, where we had been sent to hunt them. Tobias' mercenaries worked in small bands spread all over the southern Hintanese empire, harrying supply caravans, spying on Imperial Army troops and selling information to the Kundrian warlords. It had taken us several days to find rumors of this encampment. Segnarus had managed to bribe a few of the locals to get us to meet these mercenaries. Things had escalated, and so we found ourselves giving pursuit across the plains as the sun rose in the eastern sky.
We reined in our horses as our quarry disappeared over the hilltop. Several grayish white boulders rose like jagged teeth on the grassy green slope. We smelled an ambush.
Segnarus and I quickly conversed and decided to scout ahead. Kalten and Landotharan, the heavily armed and armored warriors, would wait below.
We quietly slipped off our horses and stealthily moved up the hill. My woodland training gave me the necessary skills to accomplish this short trek unnoticed by prying eyes. Segnarus' profession as a thief-catcher of the village of Tromos also gave him the ability to move unseen and unheard. Our choice of light armor, a shirt of fine mail, also lent us ease of movement and stealth.
We reached a large boulder near the top. Crouching next to it, my back to the stone, I readied my recurved longbow and searched for signs of the enemy. They were not far off, and quite easy to spot. A dozen or so yards to the northwest of our position, behind another large boulder. They wore light armor similar to ours and bore plain, but serviceable longbows of yew wood. I silently relayed this information to Segnarus beside me and to Kalten and Landotharan below by means of hand signals.
I silently cursed as a rather strong wind picked up. Our chances of taking out the two sentries had just markedly diminished. Between the breeze and the cover afforded to them by the boulder, the possibility of picking them off with arrows quickly became an unlikely proposition.
As I contemplated my next move, an arrow landed next to me. I turned in amazement towards our companions. Landotharan had just shot at us! My surprise quickly evaporated as Landotharan's frantic gesturing revealed the reason behind this unexpected attack. A cloud of dust was rising from the west as several riders approached.
At this point, I must admit, I stopped thinking clearly and started acting on pure instinct. Fearing overwhelming odds from the unknown cavalry charging in from the west, I made a rather grievous tactical mistake.
I loosed an arrow at the two sentries behind the nearby boulder and , without waiting to see where it landed, shouted at Segnarus, turned and ran for the horses. It was my belief at the time that the mounted troops constituted a major threat that must be dealt with immediately. I neglected to consider two things: First, that the sentry archers presented an equal, if not larger, threat, as they held the high ground and would now shoot at us unhindered and second, I had abandoned Segnarus, who was unaware of my intentions.
Halfway to the horses, the impact of my actions struck me, but it was too late to turn back. The archers now also had a clear shot at my unprotected back. But no arrow hit, though several whistled by. I looked back as I ran to see Segnarus sprint from our hiding place, with his two short blades in hand, and he fell upon the sentries like a lion pouncing on helpless prey. I prayed to the gods to look after him and to forgive me for my carelessness.
Kalten crossed my path briefly, as he readied his warhorse and his lance, and took off towards the advancing horsemen with a mounted charge of his own.
I finally reached the horses and managed to climb unto the saddle, secure my bow and unstrap the small metallic shield I kept around the saddle as the enemy slammed into me.
The hastily raised buckler deflected a flail aimed in a deadly blow by my opponent. With my free hand, I released the mount's reins and, guiding the horse with my knees, managed to draw my sword and return the blow. The first stroke glanced off his armor, but the next shattered his collarbone as fine Hintanese steel bit into half-orc flesh. My foe fell dead to the ground.
I looked up just in time to see Kalten raise himself up in the saddle and deal two mighty overhand blows in rapid succession, one to his right and one to his left, dispatching both his foes with a single powerful stroke each.
Certain that at least one of my companions had the upper hand in his combat, I scanned the battlefield only to see Landotharan in dire straits! The half elf was under attack from a fourth mounted rider, who apparently had come down straight from the hillock. Landotharan's mount, unused to combat, reared and buckled wildly under the mercenary's assault. The half elf had neglected to procure himself a trained warhorse and was now paying the price. He held his two-handed greatsword in one hand, while battling the reins of his panicked steed with the other, trying to control the animal in order to launch a counterattack against his foe. As I watched, a glancing blow of a flail was deflected by the half-elf's enchanted breastplate.
I spurred my own horse forward, to aid Landotharan. It seemed my mistake in running for the horses had been a fortuitous choice after all, for otherwise Landotharan would have been left alone, battling both mount and foe, while struggling to remain in the saddle. I furiously struck the enemy rider, inflicting a flesh wound, and managed to avoid the whirling flail that whistled past my head. Landotharan seemed unable to regain control of his horse.
With a noise like rolling thunder, Kalten slammed into the fray. Having dispatched his two foes, the Falconian knight had led his heavy warhorse in a powerful charge to aid us. His sword rose and fell in a precise stroke, felling the rider amidst a shower of blood.
The immediate threat ended, my eyes sought the hilltop where I had left Segnarus. The thief-catcher of Tromos stood over the corpse of one of the archers and fought with a dancer's grace. Twin shortswords flashed as he battled a large, heavily armored figure wielding an impressive sized battleaxe. Of the second archer, I could see no sign.
Without a second thought, I drove my horse towards the hilltop, attempting to rectify my earlier error. Never more would I leave a comrade alone in battle. I leaned sideways and struck, decapitating the armored warrior in one fell stroke.
Dark skinned Segnarus flashed me a wide grin: " You stole my kill," he said.
"It's the least I could do after I left you behind," I replied by way of an apology.
Segnarus dismissed my concern with a shrug, looking around for the missing archer, who bolted from behind a boulder in an attempt to escape. Kalten thundered by once more, on his horse, cutting off the second archer's getaway. I could hear his heavily accented speech: "Tilsman forgive us! Don't make us add another death to this day."
"Stay your hand! " the archer replied, raising his empty hands in a gesture of surrender.
"It seems we have a prisoner, Segnarus," I told the thief-catcher. "Your skills as a lawman will be useful in interrogating him." I could see the man kneeling before Kalten.
I took one final glance around the battlefield. Kalten had sheathed his weapon and disarmed the prisoner. Segnarus was inspecting the corpses of his fallen foes: the archer and the axe wielder. If there were any clues or useful leads to help us find the traitor Tobias, surely the experienced former constable would find them. At the foot of the slope, Landotharan had finally dismounted and was methodically dismembering the corpses of the orcs and half-breeds we had just vanquished. A chill ran down my spine at the gruesome sight. Landotharan's face twisted in hate as he methodically hacked at the corpses. Merciful Tilsman! I promised myself I would have a talk with the half-elf soon. I understood his anger and had lived through it after my family was taken when the Kundrians overran my village. But I had been able to overcome the pain and had regained my humanity. Landotharan's hatred was understandable, given his long enslavement by the orcs, but he was blinded by it. That way led only to madness. Unbridled, this hatred would grow to eventually consume him. In the arms of Nuthon would he forever dwell after that.
But more pressing business lay at hand. Beyond the hillock where we stood, I could see the small encampment from which our enemies had operated. I drove my mount down the hill and warily dismounted. A thorough inspection of the camp quickly revealed several things: first, more than six people had lived here, though none remained at camp. Second, several people had ridden off towards the north east several hours before.
All that remained was deciding whether to pursue the northeast trail or to return to Medore to report the results of our mission.
I climbed my horse and turned uphill to rejoin the others.
* * *
Medore. Main garrison city of the Southern Hintanese Empire. While not the largest city in the southlands, it was nearly as large as Leriond and did hold the distinction of housing the largest division of the Imperial Army in the district. War-torn Medore showed the scars of prolonged campaigning against the Kundrian forces. Strong embankments guarded the city, scorch marks from siege fires and broken stone ramparts attested to the plentiful prior assaults upon the town. But the walls had held. Medore still guarded the southern frontier.
The great Southern Imperial Army lay encamped outside the city walls. Countless tents, banners, cookfires and standards surrounded the city. Our small company wound its way through several such camps, challenged several times by chainmail clad guards, bearing longsword or crossbow. Our destination was the large pavilion in the center of this particular camp, where a standard bearing the Arms of the City of Medore marked the location of the Supreme Commander of the Southern Host.
We knew Lord Erecos would be there. Though, as Lord Protector of the city, he held a residence inside the town, Erecos was the sort of general who worked closely with his troops.
We dismounted close to the pavilion, and handed the reins to some of the guards stationed there. Erecos, having been informed of our arrival, was already coming out to meet us. We stood at attention and saluted our commander.
Gray-haired Erecos was a grizzled veteran of countless campaigns. Though well into middle age, his body was still fit and hale, quite capable of hefting a broadsword and killing all of us, I was sure. A true campaigner. His clean shaven face always wore a stern expression, an air of command that made every soldier stand up straighter and pay attention.
In turn, Erecos regarded each of us. I followed his gaze and considered my fellow soldiers. Erecos looked first at Kalten. The tall Falconian knight returned the general's steely gaze. Kalten was a couple of inches taller than me. Light brown haired and hazel eyed, Kalten Hawkshand's tanned face was that of a typical western Andaran, yet his strongly accented speech revealed his foreign heritage. Born hundreds of leagues to the west, in the Archbarony of the Falcon, Kalten had been exiled by his liege lord for showing mercy to his enemies. He had traveled far and wide to finally come here, to the other side of the world. His weapons and gear told the tale of his journeys. Falconian steel longsword, Feremordian plate-and-mail and Black Nomad recurved horsebow. A far and wondrous journey indeed.
The two men looked at each other, and the tension between them was palpable. Kalten, the man banished for being merciful, faced Erecos, a ruthless warrior, willing to do or risk anything to accomplish his goal of driving back the orcish foe.
Next to Kalten stood Segnarus Mank. Dark of hair, eyes and skin, Segnarus was the shortest and leanest of us. Though not strong like Landotharan or Kalten, or even me, he was certainly quicker and more dexterous. He wielded a light shortsword on each hand with deadly grace, his movements unhindered by light chain armor. Our commander respected the thief-taker of Tromos, for though he had been conscripted into the army, the former guardsman's strong respect for the law, and his sense of duty and honor had turned him into a valuable scout. Erecos was the sort of man who appreciated honest, devoted service.
Last came Landotharan Silvermoon. The half-elf warrior was the son of an elven sorcerer and a human ranger. We were of the same height, and the only hint of his fey heritage was in the slight tilt of his blue eyes, and the angular shape of his clean shaven face. The most obvious features were the tips of his pointed ears, half peeking out from his long blond hair. His choice of armor and weapons was somewhat unusual, but it certainly fit his personality. Having endured long years of slavery at the hands of savage Kundrian taskmasters, Landotharan had only been recently freed from bondage by an Imperial army detachment on a tactical sortie behind enemy lines. The half-elf and a handful of other prisoners had been safely returned to Hintai scarcely a few months before. Landotharan had insisted on being given a sword and armor to fight the orcs as soon as the priests of Barlam has healed his physical wounds. His spiritual wounds were certainly still open and fresh. Landotharan had claimed the largest greatsword he could heft and wield, and clad himself with plate-and-leather armor. His only desire was to wreak havoc upon the orcish horde and claim vengeance for the wrongs done to him. The hate evident on his gaze still sent chills up and down my spine, for I had felt the cold grip of hate for a time after my family was killed . My heart wept for Landotharan, who had not been able to release his grip on revenge as I had.
Erecos finally turned his steely gaze on me. Though he was nobly born and I was not, we both recognized a certain kinship between us. Like myself, the Hintanese commander had lost his family when Kundrian orcs had overrun the southern borders of the Empire. For generations, Erecos' family had fought the Kundrians. For over five hundred years, since the time of Omadan, the orcs had done battle with the Hintai Empire. Now, at long last, the tide had turned. Less than five years ago, a band of adventurers had defeated Oromor, avatar of the Orc God. With the loss of their principal spiritual and military leader, the Kundrian advance was halted and the Hintanese frontier was pushed back almost to the edge of the Antarius river, where it had originally been.
My companions and I had been fighting for the army for some years now, but our time in the military was surely drawing to a close. Military actions were now smaller in scale, as the war wound down to a near standstill.
"Well," Erecos' gruff voice snapped me out of my reverie. "What news from your mission?"
"We bear sensitive news, my lord," I replied. "Best kept from prying ears." Even here, at the heart of the Imperial Army's encampment one could not be certain spies weren't about. By the Nine Hells, Tobias himself had been one of Erecos' most important subordinates.
"We found Tobias' men," Kalten said in his crisp accent, once we had gained the relative privacy of Erecos' tent. They were certainly the traitor's men. Segnarus' inspection of the bodies had shown each of the mercenaries to be marked by a particular tattoo: a strange sigil in the shape of an hourglass flanked by a triangle on either side. A mark Tobias had been known to use. The mercenaries were all Kundrians: humans, half-orcs and even a large orog, a fierce, more savage breed of the orcs. "We captured one of them and managed to extract the location of Tobias' base in the region," Kalten continued.
"A prisoner?" Erecos replied. "Where is he?"
Kalten set his jaw in anticipation of the general's reaction. "We released him, lord. We granted him his life in exchange for the information."
"You did what?" Erecos was livid with fury. "I should turn you over to the City Council under charges of treason," he raged.
"It was the only way we could get him to talk, lord. Believe us, we wanted to bring the man to justice but had no other choice. And we did manage to find Tobias' lair," Segnarus added, in defense of our cause. The thief-taker had certainly wanted to take the prisoner in. He and Kalten had argued long over their decision. Segnarus had fervently argued against releasing the prisoner, but the mercenary had been more terrified at the prospect of facing Erecos' questioners than anything else. He had betrayed Tobias without much need for persuasion, at the prospect of escaping the wrath of the Hintanese general.
Erecos regained his composure, realizing the import of the news we bore. It was this crucial knowledge that had led us back to Medore, instead of pursuing the tracks of the missing bandits. We quickly described to lord Erecos what we had learned; that the traitor had taken up residence in an abandoned garrison within the outskirts of Calemd Forest, seven or eight leagues north of Tabat township. It was from this secret base that Tobias launched strikes against our supply caravans and coordinated a vast network of spies, selling information to the enemy.
"This is most fortuitous," Erecos said, looking at a large map of the Southern Empire spread upon a large rectangular table set in the middle of his tent. "I have a last mission for you, before your military commissions are officially ended. The Empire will consider your duties fulfilled after this, and will require your services no longer." At long last, having served our nation, we would be allowed to retire to private life and pursue other goals.
"We are planning a last strike against the Kundrian forces entrenched at the fork of the Antarius," Erecos said, pointing at a spot on the southeastern end of the map. "These forces outnumber our troops at Medore, so we will need reinforcements to engage them. We can only commit one half of the Medore garrison to this endeavor if we are to leave the city with some protection. Tabat is the logical place to obtain reinforcements for our attack. Word must be sent to Tabat and also to Cir, to the west, for we will need their support as well to reinforce the Medore garrison in the event of a surprise attack upon this city."
"Our plans must be swiftly executed," Erecos continued, straightening up. "For if we delay too long, the orcs will consolidate their forces and march on Leriond, where they will surely overrun the depleted garrison stationed there."
"So," he looked at each of us in turn. "Will you aid me in this endeavor? I have need of trustworthy messengers to bear orders to both Tabat and Cir. Both roads are perilous."
Kalten, Segnarus and I shared a look. The road to Tabat would lead us close to Tobias. All of us had met the traitor and were eager to confront him.
"We will gladly take the message to Tabat, lord" was our reply. "And if our paths cross the traitor's, we will surely bring him to justice."
* * *
Sullen dark clouds covered Medore on the morning of our departure. We secured our gear, all of our worldly possessions, upon two of the horses taken from our battle with the mercenaries. Landotharan had claimed a third horse to replace his own skittish mount. The last horse captured on the hillock was now ridden by a man who had joined our company a few hours ago. The priest, Solemund, was a tall man, nearly as tall as Kalten, but wider and more muscular than the knight. He kept his head shaven clean, to signify his worship of Barlam, God of Strength. The deity's holy symbol hung around the cleric's neck, over the plate armor we had taken from the orog axeman and bore a heavy wooden greatclub, shod in iron. The priest had joined our party at my request, for I had asked Lord Erecos for a healer. Solemund had agreed to accompany us as far as Tabat. Kalten at least had been pleased to have a man of faith join us in our journey. My guess is he thought a servant of the gods would be a good influence on Landotharan.
Kalten straightened the leather barding on his heavy destrier while we waited for Lord Erecos to give us our final instructions.
"You will present this to Captain Eltros, Military Commander and Lord Constable of the City of Tabat," the general said, handing Kalten a scroll sealed with Erecos' signet. "The road to Tabat is seventeen leagues long. It should take you three days to reach the town. I will give you five days before the troops set out towards the Antarius river. That should give you plenty of time to reach Lord Eltros."
* * *
It stopped raining early on the second day of our journey. We had spent a wet and miserable day followed by a wet and miserable night. Progress had been slow on that first day, and we managed to travel only six leagues form Medore. We were unable to light a campfire, but at least managed to get some sleep in our dry tents, except for the time we spent on guard shifts, of course.
Fortunately, we seemed to be making better progress now. By midmorning, we had covered nearly three leagues. And then we saw them. Two large shapes above the horizon, with a buzzing sound filling our ears. Gigantic wasps, large as horses!
Without hesitation, Landotharan spurred his horse on, charging the insects, while Segnarus and I readied our missile weapons. I cursed viciously and tried to take aim on the hornets, trying to avoid hitting our reckless companion.
Kalten had taken only a few moments to adjust his lance, and now thundered past me on his way to assist the half-elf. His charge struck a glancing blow off one of the monstrous insects, but the beast recovered quickly. Kalten dropped the lance and drew flail and shield.
Segnarus' horse raced past me as well. "I'll help Kalten," he said, crossbow in hand. I spurred my own mount forward, guiding it with my knees as I drew aim at the wasp attacking Landotharan. The half-elf's furious assault was effective, but he was outflanked. His blows were beginning to tell, but he was stung repeatedly by the insects. I fired several arrows into the melee. A few moments later, both wasps lay dead by the road. All was quiet for an instant.
Then Landotharan collapsed from the saddle and started seizing as soon as he hit the ground. All of us dismounted and raced to his aid. Segnarus produced a vial of antivenom and managed to force the contents down Landotharan's throat. Kalten and I combined our efforts to draw the poison from the wounds and tended to them with salves and herbs from our healer's kits. Our efforts were successful. The fits stopped and Landotharan soon regained consciousness.
Solemund offered prayers to Barlam, and his blessings enabled the half-elf to regain some control over his limbs. Landotharan managed to remount his horse and ride for the rest of the day, though I could see his muscles twitching and spasming occasionally.
* * *
That night we camped close to the road, which by now ran near the Calemd Forest. It loomed dark and foreboding beyond the reach of our campfire. We had managed to cover a good eight leagues that day, in spite of Landotharan's injuries. Though we were now close to Tabat, barely three leagues distant, we were uneasy, knowing that Tobias' hideout lay near our position. We took turns at watch, and lay ourselves to sleep within reach of our weapons.
My worst fears were realized when I awoke to Kalten's cries: "Foes! Wake! We are under attack!" With no time to don armor, I grabbed my longsword and my round steel shield and rushed out of the tent clad only in my traveling clothes. A frantic scene greeted me.
I heard arrows whistle nearby, but could see little else. A torch lay upon the remains of our campfire, and I could make out Kalten's armored shape gesturing northwest at the source of the arrows.
Things happened in rapid succession.
Landotharan and Segnarus emerged from their tent and ran off to the southwest of the camp. I would later find out that the half-elf's elvensight had enabled him to spot enemy archers in that direction.
I heard Solemund chant and suddenly, a pure white light glowed from the trees to the northwest. Kalten roared a battlecry and ran towards the light. Though I couldn't see a thing, I rushed off right behind him.
I nearly crashed into a dark cloaked figure and narrowly avoided impaling myself on his blade. I struck furiously as my eyes accommodated to the lighting conditions. My opponent fell to the ground even as another appeared from the shadows to my right. Kalten and I fought back to back against a single foe each.
And then a third cloaked figure wielding longsword and shortsword appeared to my left. I found myself quickly outflanked, fighting furiously for my life. The opponent on my right opened a gash on my unprotected thigh with a shortsword, wounding me grievously. I launched a furious counterattack and managed to drive him back.
As I turned to face the man on my left, I felt his cold steel sword cutting into my belly, knocking the wind out of me. The last thing I saw before darkness took me was my assailant's face, lit by the pearly glow of the priest's conjured light.
A familiar face...
* * *
Is that how I came here? I wonder. Darkness surrounds me. It will not be long now. A light will come soon, I know. To lead my soul to its final destination. Whether I will rest in a peaceful paradise or burn in the flames of Gehenna will be for the Gods to decide. Kalten! Ah, Kalten. Pray for my soul, my friend.
But no. I did not die that night, I know. Though I came close. I have faced death before, and know her well.
Memories return and the journey continues...
* * *
I awoke with a start and a cough, as I drew a ragged breath again. Kalten and Solemund knelt over me, chanting prayers to their respective patron gods. A warm feeling engulfed me and I feebly raised my head, anxiously inspecting my wounds. The cuts in my thigh and abdomen had already healed. The blood around the wounds was not even dry yet. I breathed a silent prayer of thanks to both Tilsman and Barlam that I was still alive. I thanked my two rescuers as well. And then I remembered...
"Kalten," I said in a hoarse whisper. I was yet weak from loss of blood. "The fellow with the two swords was Tobias himself."
"By my troth," the knight replied. "You are right. I thought his fighting style seemed familiar." I tried to stand but was unable.
"Rest easy, my friend," Kalten said. "You are weak yet from your ordeal. The ambushers are dead or else routed. Landotharan has gone in pursuit of Tobias, and we will keep watch until dawn. Rest now, and let our prayers heal your wounded body."
Heeding his advice, I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.
* * *
As the sun passed its zenith on the following day, we enjoyed the hospitality of Lord Eltros' keep, within the town of Tabat. Unlike Medore, Tabat had no encircling walls, but was rather a collection of farmsteads and houses clustered around several stone and mortar buildings comprising the center of the town. A council of regents had been appointed by the Lord of Leriond to rule the four thousand souls inhabiting the township. Lord Eltros, as military commander and lord constable, was the de facto ruler and head of the council, charged with overseeing both the public order and the disposition of the Imperial Army troops garrisoned at the stone barracks scattered throughout the town.
The rest of the previous night had been uneventful. We had briefly discussed pursuing Tobias, who had evaded Landotharan in the forest. Our mission to deliver the message to Tabat took precedence, however, given the time constraints and the possibility that, should we be slain or captured by the traitor's men, Erecos' call for reinforcements would never reached Tabat.
Having inspected the area around camp at daybreak, I was confident I could reacquire the trail again at some later date and track Tobias to his lair. If the weather held, that is.
So we decided to complete our original mission as swiftly as possible and return to pay our "friend" Tobias a visit.
The rest of our journey had been uneventful, only we arrived at the Lord Constable's keep to find that Eltros was gone and would return that evening. His seneschal, Lorem, offered us the hospitality of the manor. Our horses were taken to well-stocked stables and we were offered two spacious rooms to rest until the lord of the house arrived. Kalten and I shared a room, and took the opportunity to relax and refresh ourselves before our host arrived. Thanks to Solemund and Kalten's prayers, my body was almost entirely healed by suppertime.
At dusk, Lorem announced his master's return and informed us that dinner would be served soon. We changed into our finest clothes and girded ourselves only with longswords. Our armor and gear were left behind in our lodgings.
Our host, Lord Eltros, turned out to be a gracious, if somewhat austere, host. The meal itself was splendid enough: exquisitely prepared dishes, including several local delicacies made from corn grown in the region, and fine wines and ales aplenty.
We related the reason for our visit and concluded our mission by presenting the sealed missive to the Lord Commander. We even spoke of our encounter with the traitor in the forest. Lord Eltros responded that he would give the order for the army to mobilize with all haste to attend to the assault on the Kundrians at the river fork.
Segnarus asked if a healer were in town, to see if he could help Landotharan recover from his injuries. Though the half-elf was much recovered, his muscles would still twitch occasionally, and he had not recovered his full coordination and usual ease of movement. It seemed, however, no healer was available.
Kalten asked for a priest of Tilsman, and our host indicated that old Sen Beldazar would gladly greet us at the Temple of Tilsman in town.
Though we engaged in small talk, and Kalten even attempted to amuse us with a tale from his homeland involving a strange creature called a "furry trout," I could sense a growing unease among my brothers-in-arms.
After thanking Lord Eltros, and retiring to our rooms, Kalten spoke of his misgivings. He felt ill at ease around Lord Eltros, and could even sense a faint taint of evil around him. Though I had felt no such thing, I trusted Kalten's instincts better than my own. That night, we kept watch and slept with our weapons close by.
* * *
By midmorning, we had taken our leave of Lord Eltros. Claiming urgent business elsewhere, we even refused to break our fast within the keep. Tired from a restless night, we saddled our horses and rode off into the town's center, looking for the Temple of Tilsman.
Everywhere we went, we saw signs of great poverty. The town was ravaged from the war, and despair and hopelessness were evident on the faces of the local inhabitants.
"My friends," Kalten said. "I have traveled many, many lands and seldom have seen such misery. We must have faith in Tilsman."
We rode single file through the narrow town streets. Kalten and Segnarus rode before me, with Solemund and Landotharan behind, leading the pack horses. We were expecting no trouble, when suddenly, a strange encounter took place.
An unkempt and disheveled beggar regarded our passage from the mouth of a side alley. As our horses drew near, he stood up and pointed at Kalten. "You," he said, then turned to Segnarus. "And you too."
I felt his eyes pierce my soul, and shiver ran down my spine at his words. "Woe, woe, woe," he said, backing into the alley. "Stay away from me, you cursed ones." He was soon lost from view as we passed the entrance to the alley. But his words struck me with a cold dread I had never felt before. I tried to steady my trembling hands by gripping the reins harder.
* * *
After waiting for a short while on the outer hall of the temple, Kalten finally emerged from the inner sanctum with Sen Beldazar. The priest of Tilsman regarded us with kind eyes and proceeded to give us his blessing. He laid his hands on Landotharan, cleansing the last of the poison from his system with a prayer. The old priest radiated peace and calm.
But his presence did not soothe me. The fear still gnawed at me. "Holy father," I addressed the Sen. "Something happened on our way here. A beggar called us accursed, and it disturbed me. Can you tell if this is true?" I could see my friends' eyes, and the same fear was reflected there.
"Let me see," the priest said, bowing his head and chanting a prayer. "Yes," he said after a while. "There is a subtle evil around you all."
"By the Judge of Judges," Kalten said, looking at each of us in turn. "I can see the taint myself. Most dire news, my friends."
"I do not know whence this evil comes," Sen Beldazar said. "But it is growing."
"Can you divine the source of this evil?" I pleaded. "That we may seek it and destroy it."
Beldazar reflected for a moment, then said: "Perhaps. I shall need two or three days to perform the necessary rituals and purification."
"Then, with Tilsman's grace, we shall return, Reverend Sen," Kalten added.
We left the temple with great apprehension at the news of our misfortune, only to meet Segnarus as he returned. The thief-catcher had taken off on his own shortly before our arrival at the Temple to gather some information on the mysterious beggar.
Our situation became more complicated as Segnarus relayed his findings. The mysterious beggar was rumored to belong to an evil cult, run out of town by the constable. They had used to hide in an old priory near the southeastern part of town, before the guards stormed the place and drew them out.
In turn, we informed Segnarus of the priest's findings. His grim silence echoed my own feelings.
"What then?," I said. "What shall we do while the Sen seeks answers from the god? Shall we investigate this priory or shall we seek out the traitor Tobias?" The question hung in the air as we considered our dark choices.
* * *
Well, that's it for now!
Eloy
He has named this campaign the Age of Blood, and has offered us a 10% XP bonus if we write a journal of the session's events from our own character's point of view.
Anyway, I don't want to give away many details, but here is the first chapter from our sessions. I hope you enjoy it. Please forgive any grammatical errors, but English is not my first language.
Feedback is always welcomed!
Eloy
------------------------------------------------------------------
Girion's Tale
'Tis a strange thing, death. Even as I lie here dying, my mind plays tricks on me. Familiar faces fade in and out of my vision. Kalten, Segnarus, Landotharan. And I wonder: are you here or do I imagine you? Do you still live or have I summoned you from the grave? I see your lips move but I cannot hear any words. A loud roaring fills my ears. Is it the din of battle I hear, or the rushing of blood through my veins as my heart beats its last?
Unanswered questions and philosophical rhetoric are swept away as bittersweet memories flood through my head. Childhood in Roedran, The green forests of my youth. Father teaches me the bow and the sword. The ways of the woods and the Huntmaster's duties. Tears at mother's funeral. Gavin by my side. The newborn baby in my arms. Larae, sweet Larae...
The call of the horns, the thundering of hooves, the thrill of the first hunt. The pull of a fine yew bow. Easy now, deep breath. Steady. Slowly exhale and... Release! The stag falls. Heart's blood warm and salty in my mouth. "You are a hunter now, Girion." My father's proud smile.
A bent branch, a broken twig, a half-hidden footprint on the trail. Tracking, pursuing, hunting. Cruel Orcish blades, fell goblin spears. Border Guards hunt the Kundrian prey.
Dire news interrupt the hunt: "Roedran burns! Roedran burns!" Larae! Gavin! Father! Despair and grief. Lost, they are lost. Ah! Mercy! Such cruel fate. Kundrian slave pits or foul cooking fires. Hurt. Anger. Hate! Countless Orcs fall to my blade. Revenge, sweet revenge...
War. Death. Despair. Anguish. Grief. At long last, tears come and wash my soul clean. Hate subsides, emotions return. Though the battle continues, my sanity has been reclaimed.
Medore. Lord Erecos. The war approaches an end, and I meet three men who will change my views of the world. Segnarus, who teaches me respect for the law, and the certainty of a man's word. Kalten, whose faith inspires me to believe in gods I have long mistrusted. Landotharan, who reminds me of the cold-hearted killer I once became.
At least there is no pain. As I float in peaceful darkness, time slows down. Memories become more vivid, and I relive that fateful day when our adventure began...
* * *
"We're almost upon them," I whispered to myself. I would have had to shout to have my words heard above the noise of galloping hooves and the rushing of the wind as we raced across the countryside.
On either side of me, Segnarus and Landotharan rode light, swift steeds, bred for speed and endurance. Kalten lagged behind us on his heavier destrier bred for war.
The three riders who were our prey also rode light horses, but the distance between us slowly decreased to three hundred yards. The riders, half-orcs and human mercenaries in the employ of the traitor Tobias, spurred their mounts on and were soon lost to our view. They rode up a hillock amidst the plains north of Medore, where we had been sent to hunt them. Tobias' mercenaries worked in small bands spread all over the southern Hintanese empire, harrying supply caravans, spying on Imperial Army troops and selling information to the Kundrian warlords. It had taken us several days to find rumors of this encampment. Segnarus had managed to bribe a few of the locals to get us to meet these mercenaries. Things had escalated, and so we found ourselves giving pursuit across the plains as the sun rose in the eastern sky.
We reined in our horses as our quarry disappeared over the hilltop. Several grayish white boulders rose like jagged teeth on the grassy green slope. We smelled an ambush.
Segnarus and I quickly conversed and decided to scout ahead. Kalten and Landotharan, the heavily armed and armored warriors, would wait below.
We quietly slipped off our horses and stealthily moved up the hill. My woodland training gave me the necessary skills to accomplish this short trek unnoticed by prying eyes. Segnarus' profession as a thief-catcher of the village of Tromos also gave him the ability to move unseen and unheard. Our choice of light armor, a shirt of fine mail, also lent us ease of movement and stealth.
We reached a large boulder near the top. Crouching next to it, my back to the stone, I readied my recurved longbow and searched for signs of the enemy. They were not far off, and quite easy to spot. A dozen or so yards to the northwest of our position, behind another large boulder. They wore light armor similar to ours and bore plain, but serviceable longbows of yew wood. I silently relayed this information to Segnarus beside me and to Kalten and Landotharan below by means of hand signals.
I silently cursed as a rather strong wind picked up. Our chances of taking out the two sentries had just markedly diminished. Between the breeze and the cover afforded to them by the boulder, the possibility of picking them off with arrows quickly became an unlikely proposition.
As I contemplated my next move, an arrow landed next to me. I turned in amazement towards our companions. Landotharan had just shot at us! My surprise quickly evaporated as Landotharan's frantic gesturing revealed the reason behind this unexpected attack. A cloud of dust was rising from the west as several riders approached.
At this point, I must admit, I stopped thinking clearly and started acting on pure instinct. Fearing overwhelming odds from the unknown cavalry charging in from the west, I made a rather grievous tactical mistake.
I loosed an arrow at the two sentries behind the nearby boulder and , without waiting to see where it landed, shouted at Segnarus, turned and ran for the horses. It was my belief at the time that the mounted troops constituted a major threat that must be dealt with immediately. I neglected to consider two things: First, that the sentry archers presented an equal, if not larger, threat, as they held the high ground and would now shoot at us unhindered and second, I had abandoned Segnarus, who was unaware of my intentions.
Halfway to the horses, the impact of my actions struck me, but it was too late to turn back. The archers now also had a clear shot at my unprotected back. But no arrow hit, though several whistled by. I looked back as I ran to see Segnarus sprint from our hiding place, with his two short blades in hand, and he fell upon the sentries like a lion pouncing on helpless prey. I prayed to the gods to look after him and to forgive me for my carelessness.
Kalten crossed my path briefly, as he readied his warhorse and his lance, and took off towards the advancing horsemen with a mounted charge of his own.
I finally reached the horses and managed to climb unto the saddle, secure my bow and unstrap the small metallic shield I kept around the saddle as the enemy slammed into me.
The hastily raised buckler deflected a flail aimed in a deadly blow by my opponent. With my free hand, I released the mount's reins and, guiding the horse with my knees, managed to draw my sword and return the blow. The first stroke glanced off his armor, but the next shattered his collarbone as fine Hintanese steel bit into half-orc flesh. My foe fell dead to the ground.
I looked up just in time to see Kalten raise himself up in the saddle and deal two mighty overhand blows in rapid succession, one to his right and one to his left, dispatching both his foes with a single powerful stroke each.
Certain that at least one of my companions had the upper hand in his combat, I scanned the battlefield only to see Landotharan in dire straits! The half elf was under attack from a fourth mounted rider, who apparently had come down straight from the hillock. Landotharan's mount, unused to combat, reared and buckled wildly under the mercenary's assault. The half elf had neglected to procure himself a trained warhorse and was now paying the price. He held his two-handed greatsword in one hand, while battling the reins of his panicked steed with the other, trying to control the animal in order to launch a counterattack against his foe. As I watched, a glancing blow of a flail was deflected by the half-elf's enchanted breastplate.
I spurred my own horse forward, to aid Landotharan. It seemed my mistake in running for the horses had been a fortuitous choice after all, for otherwise Landotharan would have been left alone, battling both mount and foe, while struggling to remain in the saddle. I furiously struck the enemy rider, inflicting a flesh wound, and managed to avoid the whirling flail that whistled past my head. Landotharan seemed unable to regain control of his horse.
With a noise like rolling thunder, Kalten slammed into the fray. Having dispatched his two foes, the Falconian knight had led his heavy warhorse in a powerful charge to aid us. His sword rose and fell in a precise stroke, felling the rider amidst a shower of blood.
The immediate threat ended, my eyes sought the hilltop where I had left Segnarus. The thief-catcher of Tromos stood over the corpse of one of the archers and fought with a dancer's grace. Twin shortswords flashed as he battled a large, heavily armored figure wielding an impressive sized battleaxe. Of the second archer, I could see no sign.
Without a second thought, I drove my horse towards the hilltop, attempting to rectify my earlier error. Never more would I leave a comrade alone in battle. I leaned sideways and struck, decapitating the armored warrior in one fell stroke.
Dark skinned Segnarus flashed me a wide grin: " You stole my kill," he said.
"It's the least I could do after I left you behind," I replied by way of an apology.
Segnarus dismissed my concern with a shrug, looking around for the missing archer, who bolted from behind a boulder in an attempt to escape. Kalten thundered by once more, on his horse, cutting off the second archer's getaway. I could hear his heavily accented speech: "Tilsman forgive us! Don't make us add another death to this day."
"Stay your hand! " the archer replied, raising his empty hands in a gesture of surrender.
"It seems we have a prisoner, Segnarus," I told the thief-catcher. "Your skills as a lawman will be useful in interrogating him." I could see the man kneeling before Kalten.
I took one final glance around the battlefield. Kalten had sheathed his weapon and disarmed the prisoner. Segnarus was inspecting the corpses of his fallen foes: the archer and the axe wielder. If there were any clues or useful leads to help us find the traitor Tobias, surely the experienced former constable would find them. At the foot of the slope, Landotharan had finally dismounted and was methodically dismembering the corpses of the orcs and half-breeds we had just vanquished. A chill ran down my spine at the gruesome sight. Landotharan's face twisted in hate as he methodically hacked at the corpses. Merciful Tilsman! I promised myself I would have a talk with the half-elf soon. I understood his anger and had lived through it after my family was taken when the Kundrians overran my village. But I had been able to overcome the pain and had regained my humanity. Landotharan's hatred was understandable, given his long enslavement by the orcs, but he was blinded by it. That way led only to madness. Unbridled, this hatred would grow to eventually consume him. In the arms of Nuthon would he forever dwell after that.
But more pressing business lay at hand. Beyond the hillock where we stood, I could see the small encampment from which our enemies had operated. I drove my mount down the hill and warily dismounted. A thorough inspection of the camp quickly revealed several things: first, more than six people had lived here, though none remained at camp. Second, several people had ridden off towards the north east several hours before.
All that remained was deciding whether to pursue the northeast trail or to return to Medore to report the results of our mission.
I climbed my horse and turned uphill to rejoin the others.
* * *
Medore. Main garrison city of the Southern Hintanese Empire. While not the largest city in the southlands, it was nearly as large as Leriond and did hold the distinction of housing the largest division of the Imperial Army in the district. War-torn Medore showed the scars of prolonged campaigning against the Kundrian forces. Strong embankments guarded the city, scorch marks from siege fires and broken stone ramparts attested to the plentiful prior assaults upon the town. But the walls had held. Medore still guarded the southern frontier.
The great Southern Imperial Army lay encamped outside the city walls. Countless tents, banners, cookfires and standards surrounded the city. Our small company wound its way through several such camps, challenged several times by chainmail clad guards, bearing longsword or crossbow. Our destination was the large pavilion in the center of this particular camp, where a standard bearing the Arms of the City of Medore marked the location of the Supreme Commander of the Southern Host.
We knew Lord Erecos would be there. Though, as Lord Protector of the city, he held a residence inside the town, Erecos was the sort of general who worked closely with his troops.
We dismounted close to the pavilion, and handed the reins to some of the guards stationed there. Erecos, having been informed of our arrival, was already coming out to meet us. We stood at attention and saluted our commander.
Gray-haired Erecos was a grizzled veteran of countless campaigns. Though well into middle age, his body was still fit and hale, quite capable of hefting a broadsword and killing all of us, I was sure. A true campaigner. His clean shaven face always wore a stern expression, an air of command that made every soldier stand up straighter and pay attention.
In turn, Erecos regarded each of us. I followed his gaze and considered my fellow soldiers. Erecos looked first at Kalten. The tall Falconian knight returned the general's steely gaze. Kalten was a couple of inches taller than me. Light brown haired and hazel eyed, Kalten Hawkshand's tanned face was that of a typical western Andaran, yet his strongly accented speech revealed his foreign heritage. Born hundreds of leagues to the west, in the Archbarony of the Falcon, Kalten had been exiled by his liege lord for showing mercy to his enemies. He had traveled far and wide to finally come here, to the other side of the world. His weapons and gear told the tale of his journeys. Falconian steel longsword, Feremordian plate-and-mail and Black Nomad recurved horsebow. A far and wondrous journey indeed.
The two men looked at each other, and the tension between them was palpable. Kalten, the man banished for being merciful, faced Erecos, a ruthless warrior, willing to do or risk anything to accomplish his goal of driving back the orcish foe.
Next to Kalten stood Segnarus Mank. Dark of hair, eyes and skin, Segnarus was the shortest and leanest of us. Though not strong like Landotharan or Kalten, or even me, he was certainly quicker and more dexterous. He wielded a light shortsword on each hand with deadly grace, his movements unhindered by light chain armor. Our commander respected the thief-taker of Tromos, for though he had been conscripted into the army, the former guardsman's strong respect for the law, and his sense of duty and honor had turned him into a valuable scout. Erecos was the sort of man who appreciated honest, devoted service.
Last came Landotharan Silvermoon. The half-elf warrior was the son of an elven sorcerer and a human ranger. We were of the same height, and the only hint of his fey heritage was in the slight tilt of his blue eyes, and the angular shape of his clean shaven face. The most obvious features were the tips of his pointed ears, half peeking out from his long blond hair. His choice of armor and weapons was somewhat unusual, but it certainly fit his personality. Having endured long years of slavery at the hands of savage Kundrian taskmasters, Landotharan had only been recently freed from bondage by an Imperial army detachment on a tactical sortie behind enemy lines. The half-elf and a handful of other prisoners had been safely returned to Hintai scarcely a few months before. Landotharan had insisted on being given a sword and armor to fight the orcs as soon as the priests of Barlam has healed his physical wounds. His spiritual wounds were certainly still open and fresh. Landotharan had claimed the largest greatsword he could heft and wield, and clad himself with plate-and-leather armor. His only desire was to wreak havoc upon the orcish horde and claim vengeance for the wrongs done to him. The hate evident on his gaze still sent chills up and down my spine, for I had felt the cold grip of hate for a time after my family was killed . My heart wept for Landotharan, who had not been able to release his grip on revenge as I had.
Erecos finally turned his steely gaze on me. Though he was nobly born and I was not, we both recognized a certain kinship between us. Like myself, the Hintanese commander had lost his family when Kundrian orcs had overrun the southern borders of the Empire. For generations, Erecos' family had fought the Kundrians. For over five hundred years, since the time of Omadan, the orcs had done battle with the Hintai Empire. Now, at long last, the tide had turned. Less than five years ago, a band of adventurers had defeated Oromor, avatar of the Orc God. With the loss of their principal spiritual and military leader, the Kundrian advance was halted and the Hintanese frontier was pushed back almost to the edge of the Antarius river, where it had originally been.
My companions and I had been fighting for the army for some years now, but our time in the military was surely drawing to a close. Military actions were now smaller in scale, as the war wound down to a near standstill.
"Well," Erecos' gruff voice snapped me out of my reverie. "What news from your mission?"
"We bear sensitive news, my lord," I replied. "Best kept from prying ears." Even here, at the heart of the Imperial Army's encampment one could not be certain spies weren't about. By the Nine Hells, Tobias himself had been one of Erecos' most important subordinates.
"We found Tobias' men," Kalten said in his crisp accent, once we had gained the relative privacy of Erecos' tent. They were certainly the traitor's men. Segnarus' inspection of the bodies had shown each of the mercenaries to be marked by a particular tattoo: a strange sigil in the shape of an hourglass flanked by a triangle on either side. A mark Tobias had been known to use. The mercenaries were all Kundrians: humans, half-orcs and even a large orog, a fierce, more savage breed of the orcs. "We captured one of them and managed to extract the location of Tobias' base in the region," Kalten continued.
"A prisoner?" Erecos replied. "Where is he?"
Kalten set his jaw in anticipation of the general's reaction. "We released him, lord. We granted him his life in exchange for the information."
"You did what?" Erecos was livid with fury. "I should turn you over to the City Council under charges of treason," he raged.
"It was the only way we could get him to talk, lord. Believe us, we wanted to bring the man to justice but had no other choice. And we did manage to find Tobias' lair," Segnarus added, in defense of our cause. The thief-taker had certainly wanted to take the prisoner in. He and Kalten had argued long over their decision. Segnarus had fervently argued against releasing the prisoner, but the mercenary had been more terrified at the prospect of facing Erecos' questioners than anything else. He had betrayed Tobias without much need for persuasion, at the prospect of escaping the wrath of the Hintanese general.
Erecos regained his composure, realizing the import of the news we bore. It was this crucial knowledge that had led us back to Medore, instead of pursuing the tracks of the missing bandits. We quickly described to lord Erecos what we had learned; that the traitor had taken up residence in an abandoned garrison within the outskirts of Calemd Forest, seven or eight leagues north of Tabat township. It was from this secret base that Tobias launched strikes against our supply caravans and coordinated a vast network of spies, selling information to the enemy.
"This is most fortuitous," Erecos said, looking at a large map of the Southern Empire spread upon a large rectangular table set in the middle of his tent. "I have a last mission for you, before your military commissions are officially ended. The Empire will consider your duties fulfilled after this, and will require your services no longer." At long last, having served our nation, we would be allowed to retire to private life and pursue other goals.
"We are planning a last strike against the Kundrian forces entrenched at the fork of the Antarius," Erecos said, pointing at a spot on the southeastern end of the map. "These forces outnumber our troops at Medore, so we will need reinforcements to engage them. We can only commit one half of the Medore garrison to this endeavor if we are to leave the city with some protection. Tabat is the logical place to obtain reinforcements for our attack. Word must be sent to Tabat and also to Cir, to the west, for we will need their support as well to reinforce the Medore garrison in the event of a surprise attack upon this city."
"Our plans must be swiftly executed," Erecos continued, straightening up. "For if we delay too long, the orcs will consolidate their forces and march on Leriond, where they will surely overrun the depleted garrison stationed there."
"So," he looked at each of us in turn. "Will you aid me in this endeavor? I have need of trustworthy messengers to bear orders to both Tabat and Cir. Both roads are perilous."
Kalten, Segnarus and I shared a look. The road to Tabat would lead us close to Tobias. All of us had met the traitor and were eager to confront him.
"We will gladly take the message to Tabat, lord" was our reply. "And if our paths cross the traitor's, we will surely bring him to justice."
* * *
Sullen dark clouds covered Medore on the morning of our departure. We secured our gear, all of our worldly possessions, upon two of the horses taken from our battle with the mercenaries. Landotharan had claimed a third horse to replace his own skittish mount. The last horse captured on the hillock was now ridden by a man who had joined our company a few hours ago. The priest, Solemund, was a tall man, nearly as tall as Kalten, but wider and more muscular than the knight. He kept his head shaven clean, to signify his worship of Barlam, God of Strength. The deity's holy symbol hung around the cleric's neck, over the plate armor we had taken from the orog axeman and bore a heavy wooden greatclub, shod in iron. The priest had joined our party at my request, for I had asked Lord Erecos for a healer. Solemund had agreed to accompany us as far as Tabat. Kalten at least had been pleased to have a man of faith join us in our journey. My guess is he thought a servant of the gods would be a good influence on Landotharan.
Kalten straightened the leather barding on his heavy destrier while we waited for Lord Erecos to give us our final instructions.
"You will present this to Captain Eltros, Military Commander and Lord Constable of the City of Tabat," the general said, handing Kalten a scroll sealed with Erecos' signet. "The road to Tabat is seventeen leagues long. It should take you three days to reach the town. I will give you five days before the troops set out towards the Antarius river. That should give you plenty of time to reach Lord Eltros."
* * *
It stopped raining early on the second day of our journey. We had spent a wet and miserable day followed by a wet and miserable night. Progress had been slow on that first day, and we managed to travel only six leagues form Medore. We were unable to light a campfire, but at least managed to get some sleep in our dry tents, except for the time we spent on guard shifts, of course.
Fortunately, we seemed to be making better progress now. By midmorning, we had covered nearly three leagues. And then we saw them. Two large shapes above the horizon, with a buzzing sound filling our ears. Gigantic wasps, large as horses!
Without hesitation, Landotharan spurred his horse on, charging the insects, while Segnarus and I readied our missile weapons. I cursed viciously and tried to take aim on the hornets, trying to avoid hitting our reckless companion.
Kalten had taken only a few moments to adjust his lance, and now thundered past me on his way to assist the half-elf. His charge struck a glancing blow off one of the monstrous insects, but the beast recovered quickly. Kalten dropped the lance and drew flail and shield.
Segnarus' horse raced past me as well. "I'll help Kalten," he said, crossbow in hand. I spurred my own mount forward, guiding it with my knees as I drew aim at the wasp attacking Landotharan. The half-elf's furious assault was effective, but he was outflanked. His blows were beginning to tell, but he was stung repeatedly by the insects. I fired several arrows into the melee. A few moments later, both wasps lay dead by the road. All was quiet for an instant.
Then Landotharan collapsed from the saddle and started seizing as soon as he hit the ground. All of us dismounted and raced to his aid. Segnarus produced a vial of antivenom and managed to force the contents down Landotharan's throat. Kalten and I combined our efforts to draw the poison from the wounds and tended to them with salves and herbs from our healer's kits. Our efforts were successful. The fits stopped and Landotharan soon regained consciousness.
Solemund offered prayers to Barlam, and his blessings enabled the half-elf to regain some control over his limbs. Landotharan managed to remount his horse and ride for the rest of the day, though I could see his muscles twitching and spasming occasionally.
* * *
That night we camped close to the road, which by now ran near the Calemd Forest. It loomed dark and foreboding beyond the reach of our campfire. We had managed to cover a good eight leagues that day, in spite of Landotharan's injuries. Though we were now close to Tabat, barely three leagues distant, we were uneasy, knowing that Tobias' hideout lay near our position. We took turns at watch, and lay ourselves to sleep within reach of our weapons.
My worst fears were realized when I awoke to Kalten's cries: "Foes! Wake! We are under attack!" With no time to don armor, I grabbed my longsword and my round steel shield and rushed out of the tent clad only in my traveling clothes. A frantic scene greeted me.
I heard arrows whistle nearby, but could see little else. A torch lay upon the remains of our campfire, and I could make out Kalten's armored shape gesturing northwest at the source of the arrows.
Things happened in rapid succession.
Landotharan and Segnarus emerged from their tent and ran off to the southwest of the camp. I would later find out that the half-elf's elvensight had enabled him to spot enemy archers in that direction.
I heard Solemund chant and suddenly, a pure white light glowed from the trees to the northwest. Kalten roared a battlecry and ran towards the light. Though I couldn't see a thing, I rushed off right behind him.
I nearly crashed into a dark cloaked figure and narrowly avoided impaling myself on his blade. I struck furiously as my eyes accommodated to the lighting conditions. My opponent fell to the ground even as another appeared from the shadows to my right. Kalten and I fought back to back against a single foe each.
And then a third cloaked figure wielding longsword and shortsword appeared to my left. I found myself quickly outflanked, fighting furiously for my life. The opponent on my right opened a gash on my unprotected thigh with a shortsword, wounding me grievously. I launched a furious counterattack and managed to drive him back.
As I turned to face the man on my left, I felt his cold steel sword cutting into my belly, knocking the wind out of me. The last thing I saw before darkness took me was my assailant's face, lit by the pearly glow of the priest's conjured light.
A familiar face...
* * *
Is that how I came here? I wonder. Darkness surrounds me. It will not be long now. A light will come soon, I know. To lead my soul to its final destination. Whether I will rest in a peaceful paradise or burn in the flames of Gehenna will be for the Gods to decide. Kalten! Ah, Kalten. Pray for my soul, my friend.
But no. I did not die that night, I know. Though I came close. I have faced death before, and know her well.
Memories return and the journey continues...
* * *
I awoke with a start and a cough, as I drew a ragged breath again. Kalten and Solemund knelt over me, chanting prayers to their respective patron gods. A warm feeling engulfed me and I feebly raised my head, anxiously inspecting my wounds. The cuts in my thigh and abdomen had already healed. The blood around the wounds was not even dry yet. I breathed a silent prayer of thanks to both Tilsman and Barlam that I was still alive. I thanked my two rescuers as well. And then I remembered...
"Kalten," I said in a hoarse whisper. I was yet weak from loss of blood. "The fellow with the two swords was Tobias himself."
"By my troth," the knight replied. "You are right. I thought his fighting style seemed familiar." I tried to stand but was unable.
"Rest easy, my friend," Kalten said. "You are weak yet from your ordeal. The ambushers are dead or else routed. Landotharan has gone in pursuit of Tobias, and we will keep watch until dawn. Rest now, and let our prayers heal your wounded body."
Heeding his advice, I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.
* * *
As the sun passed its zenith on the following day, we enjoyed the hospitality of Lord Eltros' keep, within the town of Tabat. Unlike Medore, Tabat had no encircling walls, but was rather a collection of farmsteads and houses clustered around several stone and mortar buildings comprising the center of the town. A council of regents had been appointed by the Lord of Leriond to rule the four thousand souls inhabiting the township. Lord Eltros, as military commander and lord constable, was the de facto ruler and head of the council, charged with overseeing both the public order and the disposition of the Imperial Army troops garrisoned at the stone barracks scattered throughout the town.
The rest of the previous night had been uneventful. We had briefly discussed pursuing Tobias, who had evaded Landotharan in the forest. Our mission to deliver the message to Tabat took precedence, however, given the time constraints and the possibility that, should we be slain or captured by the traitor's men, Erecos' call for reinforcements would never reached Tabat.
Having inspected the area around camp at daybreak, I was confident I could reacquire the trail again at some later date and track Tobias to his lair. If the weather held, that is.
So we decided to complete our original mission as swiftly as possible and return to pay our "friend" Tobias a visit.
The rest of our journey had been uneventful, only we arrived at the Lord Constable's keep to find that Eltros was gone and would return that evening. His seneschal, Lorem, offered us the hospitality of the manor. Our horses were taken to well-stocked stables and we were offered two spacious rooms to rest until the lord of the house arrived. Kalten and I shared a room, and took the opportunity to relax and refresh ourselves before our host arrived. Thanks to Solemund and Kalten's prayers, my body was almost entirely healed by suppertime.
At dusk, Lorem announced his master's return and informed us that dinner would be served soon. We changed into our finest clothes and girded ourselves only with longswords. Our armor and gear were left behind in our lodgings.
Our host, Lord Eltros, turned out to be a gracious, if somewhat austere, host. The meal itself was splendid enough: exquisitely prepared dishes, including several local delicacies made from corn grown in the region, and fine wines and ales aplenty.
We related the reason for our visit and concluded our mission by presenting the sealed missive to the Lord Commander. We even spoke of our encounter with the traitor in the forest. Lord Eltros responded that he would give the order for the army to mobilize with all haste to attend to the assault on the Kundrians at the river fork.
Segnarus asked if a healer were in town, to see if he could help Landotharan recover from his injuries. Though the half-elf was much recovered, his muscles would still twitch occasionally, and he had not recovered his full coordination and usual ease of movement. It seemed, however, no healer was available.
Kalten asked for a priest of Tilsman, and our host indicated that old Sen Beldazar would gladly greet us at the Temple of Tilsman in town.
Though we engaged in small talk, and Kalten even attempted to amuse us with a tale from his homeland involving a strange creature called a "furry trout," I could sense a growing unease among my brothers-in-arms.
After thanking Lord Eltros, and retiring to our rooms, Kalten spoke of his misgivings. He felt ill at ease around Lord Eltros, and could even sense a faint taint of evil around him. Though I had felt no such thing, I trusted Kalten's instincts better than my own. That night, we kept watch and slept with our weapons close by.
* * *
By midmorning, we had taken our leave of Lord Eltros. Claiming urgent business elsewhere, we even refused to break our fast within the keep. Tired from a restless night, we saddled our horses and rode off into the town's center, looking for the Temple of Tilsman.
Everywhere we went, we saw signs of great poverty. The town was ravaged from the war, and despair and hopelessness were evident on the faces of the local inhabitants.
"My friends," Kalten said. "I have traveled many, many lands and seldom have seen such misery. We must have faith in Tilsman."
We rode single file through the narrow town streets. Kalten and Segnarus rode before me, with Solemund and Landotharan behind, leading the pack horses. We were expecting no trouble, when suddenly, a strange encounter took place.
An unkempt and disheveled beggar regarded our passage from the mouth of a side alley. As our horses drew near, he stood up and pointed at Kalten. "You," he said, then turned to Segnarus. "And you too."
I felt his eyes pierce my soul, and shiver ran down my spine at his words. "Woe, woe, woe," he said, backing into the alley. "Stay away from me, you cursed ones." He was soon lost from view as we passed the entrance to the alley. But his words struck me with a cold dread I had never felt before. I tried to steady my trembling hands by gripping the reins harder.
* * *
After waiting for a short while on the outer hall of the temple, Kalten finally emerged from the inner sanctum with Sen Beldazar. The priest of Tilsman regarded us with kind eyes and proceeded to give us his blessing. He laid his hands on Landotharan, cleansing the last of the poison from his system with a prayer. The old priest radiated peace and calm.
But his presence did not soothe me. The fear still gnawed at me. "Holy father," I addressed the Sen. "Something happened on our way here. A beggar called us accursed, and it disturbed me. Can you tell if this is true?" I could see my friends' eyes, and the same fear was reflected there.
"Let me see," the priest said, bowing his head and chanting a prayer. "Yes," he said after a while. "There is a subtle evil around you all."
"By the Judge of Judges," Kalten said, looking at each of us in turn. "I can see the taint myself. Most dire news, my friends."
"I do not know whence this evil comes," Sen Beldazar said. "But it is growing."
"Can you divine the source of this evil?" I pleaded. "That we may seek it and destroy it."
Beldazar reflected for a moment, then said: "Perhaps. I shall need two or three days to perform the necessary rituals and purification."
"Then, with Tilsman's grace, we shall return, Reverend Sen," Kalten added.
We left the temple with great apprehension at the news of our misfortune, only to meet Segnarus as he returned. The thief-catcher had taken off on his own shortly before our arrival at the Temple to gather some information on the mysterious beggar.
Our situation became more complicated as Segnarus relayed his findings. The mysterious beggar was rumored to belong to an evil cult, run out of town by the constable. They had used to hide in an old priory near the southeastern part of town, before the guards stormed the place and drew them out.
In turn, we informed Segnarus of the priest's findings. His grim silence echoed my own feelings.
"What then?," I said. "What shall we do while the Sen seeks answers from the god? Shall we investigate this priory or shall we seek out the traitor Tobias?" The question hung in the air as we considered our dark choices.
* * *
Well, that's it for now!
Eloy
Last edited:
