Nov 242013
 

I have often wondered if the name of the Caves of the Dead was incorrect, or if we were just lucky. The walls between this world and another, were definitely thinner in those dark and winding caverns, but either that world wasn’t the next, or we were just pretty lucky.

As we made made our way deeper and farther underground, the temperature plummeted. In no time at all, the air was filled with our frozen breath, and the steady dripping of ice cold water. I had sold some of my winter clothes in tiny little village on the way to the Margomarissi, and used the money to purchase food and a thin mail vest, expecting to need that more than some stout under garments. I was regretting that decision at the time, and had to make do with wrapping my cloak tight around myself and pulling on my thin gloves, for all the warmth this afforded me.

Fjorlief looked to have the best protection from the cold, wrapped up like a swaddled infant, but if we got into a fight, she would be ill prepared to let alone draw her new two handed sword, let alone swing it to attack. Those of us on foot did the best we could, helped out by walking rather than sitting stationary as the cold seeped into our bones. One of the Pelosian drivers, Catranasia, seemed to be suffering the most, even with advice from the Hutzlunr on how to keep the cold at bay.

She had obviously come to the conclusion that Skuza would be too damned scared to take any route other than on approved Pelosian roads, and would arrive at market in time to spend her share of the profits on buying some warm and woolly clothing. Hopefully this would be a rare mistake, and one that she wouldn’t come to regret. Something seemed off about Drazar now I think back on it, but since he was always hidden behind that damnable mask, I have no idea why such a thought would come to me.

Maybe it was just the way he sat as the dripping intensified, huddled even more closely to himself, as if he could force the water to ignore gravity’s call by sheer force of will. For the rest of us, the heavier water falling was something to be pleased about. “We’re about half way there, by my reckoning”, piped up Caderyn, “or at least we will be once we’re under the river proper”. Everyone nodded, happy in the knowledge that we would only have to endure the biting cold and wet surroundings for a few more hours at most.

The darkness of the caves cannot be over-emphasised at this time, but when it lessened, we weren’t happy with what the light revealed. With few light sources available to us, and the walls slick black with moisture, we were lucky not have had any accidents as we moved through the tunnels. Ahead though, there seemed to be light. Moving closer we found ourselves in a pool of white, above us a natural fissure in the rocks wide enough to let light down even this far. I blinked my eyes rapidly to get accustomed to the glare, and around me the walls of of the cave stared back unblinking.

Embedded into the walls were countless skulls, their empty sockets staring at us all. Some were certainly – or at least at one time were – human, but others were either men from an earlier time, when savagery had warped their physique, or they were something different entirely. Something from another place, that may have tried to look human, but had failed in some small way. Too long in tooth, bigger in eye, flatter of the skull…

Enough to fool some people, maybe allowing them to get close enough to feed, perhaps? I know now why I was feeling such things, why my mind was drifting further into fantasy, rather than concentrating on the very real dangers around us, but it took a Hormorn bellowing and dragging its horn against the stones to break me out of my fancy, and think about why I was acting so strangely.

Covering the walls, the bones, the skulls – everywhere, around us and above – grew a black moss. Shadow moss. An hallucinogenic growth taken by Dummonii priests as part of their rituals, and anyone else for that matter, who just wanted something of an escape. The water dripping from the ceiling, that had been falling onto our faces for at least an hour solidly had run through the moss, picking up fibers as it did. What ever alchemical agent it was within the shadow moss that caused its users to see what could not be seen had obviously been working on me, if not all of us.

In that moment of clarity, I knew I had to warn everyone, lest we all succumb to delusions, trapping ourselves forever in not only the caves, but also our fevered imaginations. Most of the party was quick to heed my warning, wiping their water away from their mouths, and pulling their hoods further over their face to prevent more from dripping onto their lips. There was little we could do for the hormorn, and we could only trust to their constitution and the skill of their handlers.

“It lets you see the dead”, I heard Caderyn say, as we made ready to move once more into the darkness. He was staring at the moss covered walls as he spoke, seemingly lost in thought, maybe remembering his last trip to this hellish place. I was about to ask why that could be considered a good thing, when he reached forward and tore some of the moss from the wall and held it in his hand. I could see what was going to happen, but seemed unable to stop him, to even want to try. In all honesty, if he hadn’t done what I knew he was about to do, I dare say I would have. With barely a moments pause, he opened his mouth and pushed the small handful of moss between his lips.

I half smiled at this. His reasoning was clear; if he could see the dead, he could warn us all of dangers we might not be able to comprehend. I’d have done it for the thrill myself, and to have saved anyone else from having to do something they may not have wanted to. I wasn’t sure if he was doing because he wanted to, or because he saw it as his duty to as the only Dummonii amongst us. At least, so far as we knew. I wasn’t going to let his visions take us too far off our course though, or allow him to hurt himself as he had done something quite noble, intentionally or not. I would stay by him until we were out of the caves, watching his back for corporeal threats, as he guarded us from other worldly ones.

*     *     *

We walked some way, Caderyn at our front, with me as his shadow. Valerius stayed close by too, for which I was thankful. The markings we were seeing on the walls near splits in out path meant nothing to me. Caderyn seemed led by something else, and I was following him, Valerius had to act as our guide.

I had seen a few of the others strip some moss from the walls, but they weren’t ingesting it, so I said nothing. If they wanted to partake on their own time, that was their call to make. Hell, they could sell the stuff to Pelosian mercenaries for all I cared. It was when I saw the glint of amber that I started to worry about taking things not meant to be touched. Everything we had picked up so far on the road had been taken and counted by Valerius, with the understanding that even if you carried it now, it was the property of Skuza.

This was his endeavour, and I had no problem with this ruling. Fjorlief would have to pay the value of her new sword from her share of the profits, and I was happy to give up a few coins for the Hutzlunr ’s battered brigandine. Caderyn claimed no desire to keep hold of the battered and rusty helmet he was wearing, but that surprised no one. A hunk of uncut amber the size of my fist though, that was tempting to take. Something told me that to do so would to be to risk the ire of whatever else lived inside these caves though, so I stepped quickly forward, keeping the Dummonii at my side.

“That is not for us”.

It took me a moment to realise that he had spoken at all, and I wasn’t sure to whom he was directing the admonishment. I quickly looked about, spotting Catranasia eyeing the amber. I don’t know if she had jumped down to grab it and been stopped, or if Caderyn just knew her mind and was quick enough to stop her from making a grave error. She complied, but others were also keen on taking souvenirs. As I said, there was plenty of shadow moss going to be walking out of the caves with us, but some were looking to grab other fungus too. “Put it back, the spirits ain’t pleased”, once again it was Caderyn who spoke, but I was never sure if he even saw what the others were doing, or was following instructions from the voices in his head.

As we approached another junction, I was sure that he was seeing things the rest of us weren’t. he paused as we neared the left hand turn, but never made a move towards it. Valerius seemed happy to be continuing on our way too, but there was something there that had captured Caderyn’s attention. “Don’t interfere, don’t follow”, he said to the darkness down the tunnel, “We’ve already dealt with you. Go along your way.”

I should have asked who was there that wanted to dog our steps, but it seemed a personal moment, and with a shake of his head, Caderyn turned away and continued down our chosen path. No matter how intently I stared down the side tunnel, I saw nothing but blackness.

*     *     *

That wasn’t the last strangeness that awaited us down paths not taken, but rather that than anything blocking our way. Another alcove, this time with something of flesh within. Almost human from a distance, but up close, it was an “empty one”. No soul left, maybe never had one. When Caderyn spoke, it was getting harder to keep up with his thoughts. It was as if he was asking questions of someone not there, and getting interrupted by them too. He seemed to know what this thing was though, and kept his distance.

The figure was short and squat, barely covered in ragged clothing, but with a clay bowl in its hands. It turned towards us as we approached, and Caderyn assumed a defensive posture, clearly worried that this little thing might be dangerous. It seemed small and inconsequential to me, but I wasn’t about to die because my pride had made me stupid. I didn’t move too far back though, and used the length of my sword to steer the bizarre little homunculus past me, towards the carts.

It didn’t seem to care, or even notice that it had come close to being impaled on several feet of steel, and just carried on until a hormorn put its mouth into the bowl and took the entire wad of moss. With that taken care off, it just carried on back the way we had come as if it hadn’t a care in the world.

I looked towards the Dummonii, hoping he would have something to say that made sense. “We are being hunted. The Toma comes, and this was a warning. It meant no harm, and was sent by a benevolent spirit”. All I could do was nod, but over his shoulder, I saw that this spirit, friendly or not, might have more to say. Another Empty One was heading towards us, slowly, feet almost dragging as it held its bowl of moss towards us. Caderyn turned to follow my gaze, and I saw a smile play across his lips, “They bring more shadow moss, this is a good sign”.

My sword was already in hand, and I wasn’t yet ready to sheath it, as further ahead, I was sure there was another. Caderyn took the moss from the closest one’s bowl, putting into his mouth and began to chew. There was definitely another ahead of us, moving out from an alcove to head in our direction. As it closed on us I directed it past, trusting the others to do the same. looking over my shoulder, it seemed the biggest threat to it was the hormorn.

At least a couple were almost as high as our guide, and none of them seemed to care about trampling one of the creatures underfoot. More were approaching though, and further ahead, more still. I soon lost count, as the darkness made it impossible to keep track, but it seemed like only seconds until the entire cave ahead of us was packed wall to wall with Empty Ones. Were they as friendly as Caderyn thought?

He looked to be changing his mind, but the shadow moss made it a slow process. As they gathered about him, he seemed confused at first. He was obviously certain that they were supposed to be on our side, and was struggling to cope with the idea that they may not, especially as so many were closing in on us like a tide. Eventually, his resolve stiffened and he brought his shield to bear. Although he still seemed determined to avoid killing them, he was less than gentle, pushing them hard away, knocking several from their feet as he diverted them past us.

I was even less forgiving, and had my sword pointing directly at them. The flat wasn’t doing enough to keep them from my way, so I was pushing out with the tip, stabbing into flesh in the hope that they’d realise the danger they were in and keep clear of my sword. It was not to be however. When they had lost their souls, they had obviously also lost a reason to preserve their lives – if one could claim they had such a thing – and they continued to move inexorably against us.

By this time dozens had moved past us, but even more lay ahead. I had stopped caring about what could befall my companions, concentrating on staying on my feet, with enough space about me keep thrusting the basaedo where it needed to be. It wasn’t until I felt warm breathe against my neck that I realised this wasn’t going to be enough. At the front, he wad stalled against the mass of creatures, but those behind had carried on moving. The hormorn had cared not about what they stood on, and were now close to using us as a walkway too.

Panic finally settled upon me, and I found my eyes alighting on anything that might offer a way past, but finding nothing. Caderyn looked almost as worried, with no solution presenting itself. Thank the Gods for women though, especially those with Vytch blood running through their veins. “You’re all idiots! Do what I’m doing!” I looked behind, and was thankful that both Fjorlief and myself were taller than almost everyone else. I could see the Empty Ones streaming past her, not impeding her in any way, but it took a few seconds to see why.

She was taking the shadow moss from each creature as it walked towards her, pocketing it as fast as she could, and then they were just walking on by. Behind her I could already see that dozens were disappearing into the darkness just as eerily as they had appeared ahead of us. There were still dozens ahead, but with the Hutzlunr’s plan seeming to work, we set about it. I was happy to drop the black mold onto the ground as the Empty Ones streamed past us, but others were filling their pockets. I may be mistaken, but I’m almost sure I saw Caderyn stick a handful or two more into his mouth as we thinned out the crowd.

Behind us, the others were following the Vytch’s lead, and within a few minutes the throng ahead of us had started to thin, and minutes later the Empty Ones were nothing but a few retreating shadows. I was happy to take a moment to breath, and at any other time would have been quick to lash out at Caderyn for insisting we were in no danger. A momentary glance was enough to make me wind in my tongue though. His eyes were almost totally glazed over, and I doubt he could have heard what I said, let alone take in its meaning. I remembered my promise to protect him, and went to his side, patting his shoulder and turning him once more in the direction we so fervently hoped would lead us from these dismal caves.

*    *     *

Drazar didn’t seem to come out of this encounter as well as the rest of us though. In the confusion something had happened to him, but I never found out what. Fjorlief was quick to offer her aid though, or at least, so I thought. As I was still more concerned with making sure that whatever was going through Caderyn’s head didn’t spill over to dangerous levels, I missed most of what happened. I would like to think that she was trying to help him, in her own way, and what happened afterwards was just unfortunate. She placed her hands on him, or maybe on his mask, to see what was wrong.

Him apparently. With a look of disgust on her face, she quickly pulled her hands back, “You’re wrong”. Two words, and in relation to no other conversation. She wasn’t disagreeing with a point he’d made, or an idea he’d floated. He was just wrong, in some way that she could sense and was repulsed by. It would of course be nice to live in a world where everyone just got along, but at the time, I would have been happy if they could have at least pretended to for the rest of the journey.

And we were still a way to go until we were even out of the caves. True, the path had inclined back up by now, and the dripping water had slowed considerably, but with possibly hours to go it seemed like scant good fortune at all. Ahead though, there was light. My first thought was daylight, but we were still too deep underground for that. As we moved closer, the light coalesced into a human form. Well, nearly human, and also more than.

She was a head and a half taller than either Fjorlief or myself, and built like a Hutzlunr warrior of legend. Armed with a long spear, and wearing the bare minimum of armour, she was nevertheless impressive. From each temple grew a long curved horn which added to her height and marked her as the Toma that Caderyn thought was hunting us. He seemed unimpressed and stepped forward to meet her, myself still acting as his shadow, unwilling to give up the chance of fighting a Goddess.

“You have brought filth and contamination to this place”, she intoned, “You shall no go further with such abominations in your company”.

“We bring nothing”, replied our half cut guide, struggling up the steep incline to meet her, “many times have people passed through these caves without the likes of you stopping them! The Corbie tribe have allowed us passage, so let us pass!”

“The Corbie have no right to say who walks these caves, that is my right! And I will have tribute. Their shadows will suffice, if any of you hope to see daylight once more!” Caderyn seemed shocked by these words, and was moving forward to meet her, weapons drawn.

“These are my men! Leave them be”, came a shout from behind with a thick Hutzlunr accent. Toma smiled, and left the shout hanging in the air, offering up the silence to be filled. I was almost close enough to slash at the huntress as she spoke first.

“Tribute then. Who shall you offer up to appease me?”

Thinking this a feint to give us opportunity to strike, the next words I heard threw me out of kilter, “Him”. I stopped suddenly, and looked behind, wondering just who the Vytch was was so willing to sacrifice.

I should have known, and you dear reader are almost certainly ahead of me, your lives not being in mortal peril as mine was. With one arm extended, the finger pointing solidly at Drazar, I found I couldn’t move or speak. If she accepted the offering, would we leave the man to have his soul taken by the Goddess?

Time slowed for me, but I imagine Drazar’s mind was racing. I had already seen him wield the earth power, and expected that the Vytch would be just as powerful. Would he strike at her before Toma came for him? Allowing himself vengeance at the cost of his life? Toma spoke first though, “He is unclean, and not worthy of my bite”.

“How about a bite on his shadow then,” countered Fjorlief, indicating Valerius. Surely this was a jest to distract Toma, and we must act quickly. Caderyn jumped at the chance too, and it seemed that a thought that had been fomenting for some time was finally allowed access to his tongue.

“We cannot trust her, she will take more than a bite! She is a Succubus, how do we kill her”, and with that he was charging in to the fight. I was quick to follow, but in less than a second realised that I was too late. She threw her spear like a javelin, and it burst into flame as it flew through the air towards Valerius. Brand was not to be outdone though, as his own weapon was soon engulfed in fire as he drew it ready for combat. I knew him to be a fighter without equal based on only a short time in his company, and with a magic weapon in hand, even the Goddess must not have seemed too challenging. But I swear on the Gods, as the fight started, and his sword lit the cave, a look of terror seemed to come to his face.

Other things were more important though, as I was close enough to Toma to strike out. Before I knew what was happening though, she had vanished, replaced by a fast moving tendril of smoke that began to quickly wend its way towards Valerius. She was certainly keen to get what was offered to her, and there was little I could do to stop her. In this form, she was impervious to my attack, no matter how well placed my blow, it slipped through the smoke as if it wasn’t even there. Cursing her I threw my torch to the ground and pulled out my dagger, readying myself for her counter attack.

It never came though, at least not at me. With flaming sword, Brand slashed at the smoke, and it quickly took on a solid form once more. Whatever hunger she felt, it had obviously gotten the better of her, as she was now surrounded. Caderyn had charged after her, smoke or solid, and was swinging his axe with a look of hatred on his face. Valerius had somehow managed to string his warbow ready to loose an arrow, and with flaming sword Brand was tearing her flesh open.

She was certainly more powerful than she looked, but being either a Goddess or a Daemon, that wasn’t much of a surprise. The wounds inflicted seemed to be closing up almost as quick as they were opened, but never fully sealing. I imagine that if she wasn’t so outnumbered, she would have made short work of us indeed. With the melee tightly packed, I was willing to hold off in case one of our men should fall, and careful enough to avoid getting too close the Dummonii, as he slashed about himself with wild abandon.

Thankfully, I wasn’t needed in the fray, and before long, the creature that called herself Toma was down and vanished, and the group was victorious. I dreaded the conversations that would follow the offering of tribute, but they would have to wait. We still needed to get ourselves free from these caves, and hopefully we had faced the worst they had to offer. I went to check on the Dummonii, to make sure he wasn’t too badly hurt from the fight, but apart from still looking bleary around the eyes, he seemed in fine form. Mostly.

Maybe it was the moss that made him do it, but as I watched, he looked down at the bloody axe in his hand thoughtfully, before lifting it up and running his tongue along the blood soaked edge. Once more I found myself ready to explode at him for being such an idiot, but he had just gone toe to toe with a Daemon, and come out on top, all the while being off his head on shadow moss. Whatever his reason for drinking the blood of his enemy, it was his own.

I followed him once more to the head of the group, as the Pelosians behind us began a pitched discussion on the implications of imbibing Daemon blood. Since I had fed some creature my own blood only a few hours earlier, I saw it as fair game, and just hoped we would see daylight soon enough.

*     *     *

We were to get my wish, but exhaustion had robbed me of the ability to keep track of time. It was early evening when we emerged, and I would like to think we had managed the trip in a day, as I don’t remember sleeping at all while we were down there. One of the Corbie tribe was waiting for us, and in my addled state I was sure it was the tribal leader who was there when we set off. I have no idea if such a thing was even possible, but I just needed to get away from the caves, and out of my damp cloak before the chill could get into me. “Well that was fucking fun”, says I, as the Corbie waffled on, “but it’s going to be dark soon, it’s bloody cold, and we’re all wearing wet clothing. How about we move on sharpish and find somewhere to get a fire going where we can sleep”.

Valerius was too busy engaging with the Corbie, and I was too strung out to be diplomatic, “Or we could just stand around here in our wet clothes having a chat I suppose?” Not the brightest thing to say, and Valerius’ patience must have been wearing almost as thin as mine, as he put me in my place.

“After what we’ve just been through, this is the done thing. I know we’re all wearing cold wet clothes, but I’ll ask for directions to campsite when we’re done talking.” There was little I could say to hurry him along, so I trudged forward and waited for us all to move. Eventually we did, and once we exited the shadow of the mountains, the chill in the air vanished. If we hadn’t been wearing such wet clothes, it would have been quite pleasant. As it was I was very happy to see a patch of open ground ahead of us, with two tall totem poles topped with corbie facing away from each other up ahead.

Well, Valerius had done his job alright, and led us to a campsite. I decided not to mention that we could have found it ourselves by simply following the path, as I think he would have quickly lost what little patience he still had with me. Instead I got a fire going and hung my cloak to dry while the hunters went after our evening meal. I was honing the point of my Basaedo as Skuza prayed to his God for delivering him – somehow forgetting to thank the men and women who dragged his pox ridden arse through the caves – when I heard Drazar and Fjorlief exchanging some loud words.

I didn’t need to make out the details, as I could be pretty sure what they involved, so I just waited for it to all die down. Once they had gotten it off their collective chests, Drazar walked back towards the fire. Although his mask prevented me from seeing his expression, his body was practically humming with anger. “What happened in those caves wasn’t right for anyone. We still have a way to go though, so how about you two learn to live with each other until we get someplace safe”, says I, and hoped that’d be the last of it before we could all get some sleep.

Nov 182013
 

My way is not the right way for everyone. I understand this, and know that there probably isn’t a right way for everyone, but I’ve kept dozens of player diaries, and read even more that have been written by other gamers. Rather than tell you how they should be done, as I don’t think there is a correct way to do them, I’ll be offering a few things that you should be thinking about if you’re about to start keeping a record of your character’s activities, or are struggling to maintain one already in process.

Firstly, who are you writing it for? Is this something that the other players will be checking in one after every session? Is it for the GM’s eyes only, or maybe just for yourself? Are you putting it out there for the general public, to let people who have never even played the game or spent time with any of the characters involved. Firstly, lets assume that at the least, the other players in your group will be checking in on the diary.

This can present you with some problems if there’s a few things about your character that you’d rather others didn’t find out about. If this is the case, you have a couple of options open to you. You can indulge in some creative editing to keep these things your own dirty little secret, but you need to be careful about keeping the story flowing without giving anything away. If you’re playing in a game that indulges in secrets and conspiracies, you could play up to this. Write out your full character diary, including all the things you don’t want people to know, then redact the sensitive topics before sending it out to the world. Your other option is to write the diary in such a way that there’s would be no way that the players would have any access to it.

In my particular case I have written the diary from the point of view of my character as retired adventurer. This works for a couple of reasons, notably being that at the present time, the character cannot read or write. In case my GM is reading this, it has nothing to due with subtly implanting the suggestion in his mind that I’m going to survive whatever he throws in front of me so that I get the chance to retire and write my memoirs. This might explain why they are so long winded, as I also appear to be channeling the writing style of the late George MacDonald Fraser in his Flashman series of books. It has even occurred to me that they are quickly turning from a  player diary, into the first draft of a novel.

I think this comes down to another option; writing for yourself. True, other people do read them, and I’ve gotten so far positive feedback, but they’re not being written as a way for the other players to check up on for a quick summary of the last week’s adventures. I’m writing my diary because I like writing, and the stories we’re telling weekly are fantastic, and well worth taking the time to commit to page, or in this case screen. The odd thing is, although I am mainly writing for myself, I am sharing with them with a much wider audience by putting them on the blog. If you’re planning on doing something similar, prepare yourself for the challenge of writing about an imaginary world that the reader may never have encountered before.

I’m pretty lucky in this, as the game my character exists in, is in the middle of a successful Kickstarter campaign. Because of this, they have been sharing a lot of stuff about their game that I can link to for people wanting more information. I still need to be careful though, and make sure I take the time to include some details that are required to give the neophyte reader a chance of understanding what the heck is going on.

If you’re looking to create a record of events that’s just there to serve as reminder of the in game activities, then you could try something completely different, and move away from the first person narrative at all. Write from an outsider perspective – I have found that newspaper stories or other journalistic forms work pretty well – and you don’t need to worry about including anything personal, and by necessity your writing should be quick and punchy, without needing to go into too much detail.

More importantly though, set yourself a realistic time frame with your chosen method. My entries are massive, but I give myself plenty of time to write them. If you don’t have the spare time, then give yourself a reason to only write shorter summaries of the action. If your finding yourself getting stressed out about maintaining a schedule at your current expected word count, then you’re missing the point, and should probably reevaluate how your approaching your diary.

Nov 162013
 

After the fight, with a dead deserter at my feet, I remembered feeling on top of the world. Two of us had been hired on to fight, and one of us had walked away with nothing but a torn sleeve, the other a wound that required the care of Valerius. True, the New-Raphelian surprised us all, but since we knew what he was made of now, there’s was no way I was going to be leaving him on the rear cart while the rest of us fought. I was very pleased with myself though, as if I had already faced down the worst that the road had to offer us, and from there on out, it’d be smooth sailing.

I will tell you the full tale of the journey in good time, but for now lets not jump too far ahead. First, we had to decide the route we would take, and it seemed that I wasn’t the only brash young man with something to prove, as it took little time at all to decide on the quicker, more dangerous, Dummoni controlled route to get us to market nice and quick. Caderyn knew the way, and had taken it before. He assured us we would not be waylaid by his countrymen, but that we should not expect any aid from them either. Still, if we wanted to get Skuza’s goods to the market in time to set our prices, speed was of the essence and so the decision was made. Thankfully it wasn’t my job to let our massively nervous employer know that we would be journeying into the heart of the enemy, that was down to Valerius.

As a Numare, he was the only one who could talk to the boss as an equal, and Vitus seemed even happier than I was that the job was out of his hands. Valerius wasn’t exactly rushing headlong into the task though, and decided to wait until we made camp that night. On the way I allowed my curiosity to get the better of me, and began asking the Dummoni exactly what we could expect from our journey. It was a short conversation, but when someone starts talking about the caves of the dead, it tends to make people slightly more introspective. Luckily we didn’t have long to wait until we found a campsite for the night, and set about settling ourselves down.

We were lucky to find a large flat area that we could get all of the wagons onto, and keep the beasts far enough out of the way that getting trampled into the dirt as we slept was unlikely. The only things we shared our campsite with were nine standing stones. “Ah, the nine climbers”, said Caderyn, walking to each in turn. As he walked, he spoke a little blessing in Dummoni in front of each; he was quiet so I didn’t catch exactly what was said, but in front of each he stopped, kissed the tips of his fingers and then placed them against each stone. I know that this might sound strange, but as he went, he told us about the stones. “One’s a Daemon”, he began, and I immediately looked towards our Pelosian travel companions for their response.

The boss and his man were out of earshot, Valerius seemed to take it all in stride – that coupled with the warbow still about his person made me even more curious about his past life – but Vitus and the young Pelosian woman who seemed to be some kind of beast minder both looked concerned, even if only for a moment. “No one knows which one for certain”, Caderyn continued in broken Pelo-Margo, “Although there’s plenty of people with ideas, but none are better than guessing. The daemon turned himself to stone to avoid some pursuers you see, but changes his position each night in case they get too close. You can see that over the years the climbers have gotten a little bit further up the mountain.” He stopped again in front of the final stone, taking his time with this blessing, maybe knowing something we didn’t about which stone was more than it appeared, “Maybe once they get to the top, he’ll feel safe and turn back into his Daemon form.”

I fear no daemon more than I do a man. True, some have powers that can shake the foundation of the mortal realm, but I’ve heard stories of men and women able to do the same, so I say take each person as they are, and you won’t go too far wrong. The Pelosians, by their cultural upbringing have different views, and I took some small pleasure watching their faces throughout this. Thank the Gods that Skuza wasn’t able to hear all this though; he was a damned nervous fellow at the best of times, and I can’t imagine it would have aided his nerves to know how close he was to bedding down in a Daemon’s shadow.

Before that though, he needed to get himself and his carriage clean. I couldn’t give two half hearted tugs about how clean he was, but I felt a touch of responsibility about the carriage, having had a hand in the blood spurt that flew through his window. Being the nice chap I am I offered to help his man out in bringing buckets of water up from the river to clean and cook with, and when we got back, a few had wandered off to bring some fresh meat back for supper. This meant my kindly demeanour was once again taken advantage of as I helped drag a huge and heavy bath from out of Skuza’s carriage. Ornate and preposterous are the two words that come to mind when I think back on it, with finely detailed daemon feet to raise it from the ground, it would probably fetch more than I hoped to make from this trip if sold to someone with taste to match Skuza’s.

This seemed to calm him down as he hid behind a screen to protect his modesty and soaked his tiny balls while the rest of us cooked and ate the game that had been killed for us. Valerius had put his unpleasant task off for long enough though, and once Skuza was dried down and powdered, he joined us around the fire. Well, near the fire anyway, and they began talking in Pelosian. I knew the other Pelosians would be able to tell what was being said, and the rest could maybe guess at a word or two as they could just about get by in the broken tongue of  Pelo-Margo, but I somewhat gave away my own fluency as the conversation progressed. “Maybe we should go back”, Skuza began; the sentence that was fast becoming his catchphrase, but on this occasion I can’t remember exactly what his piffling reason was.

“No my lord, we must continue, and make good time doing so if we are to be first to market”, countered Valerius, laying the ground work well, “and that means going south of the river”. The splutter of relaxing tea that sprayed from the boss’s mouth almost drenched Valerius, but he continued with barely a pause. “We will make better time by avoiding the bureaucracy we would encounter by staying on the Pelosian roads and going through the settlements. We are both Numare and as such must be counted and tallied. By going through Dummoni lands, we avoid all that, and have a shorter route too”.

“But Valerius, we will be killed and eaten by the savages once they know who we are!”, he exclaimed, continuing to waffle on about correctly notarized paperwork and heathens with barely a break to suck in some air.

“My lord, we will ensure the best prices by taking this quicker route, and when you return home, with your fortune restored, your eligibility when looking for a Serra Skuza will be greatly increased when you have stories of bravery and derring-do to regale them with”. With hindsight, I could certainly have picked a more opportune moment to take a mouthful of warm tea, but how was I to know the gem that was about to spill from the nobleman’s lips.

“You are correct of course my friend, and I have always thought of myself as being something of an adventurer.” Well, with that I was lucky to stop myself from spraying The new Raphelian – Brand, as I had taken to calling him – with my own beverage, but instead managed to turn it into little more than a loud exclamation of laughter, quickly hidden by a coughing fit as I struggled to keep myself from laughing further. The Gods bless the little man though, as he was quick to suggest that Valerius come to my aid. I was just as quick to protest, and claim the matter was far from serious, and I think the doctor understood what had happened as he was happy to leave me be.

I drowned the rest of the conversation out to save myself from paroxysms of laughter, but I gathered that by the end, Valerius had done his job well, and tomorrow we would brave the caves of the dead. We still had a night in the wilds to survive though, so watches were posted, and I crawled under my blanket to try and get some sleep.

It didn’t seem like I was out for long before the night air was torn apart by a feminine scream. I was quick to find my find my feet, and was drawing my steels as I spotted Drazar come flying backwards from Skuza’s carriage, propelled by the vraag that had pounced on him. Whoever was supposed to be on watch had obviously let their concentration slip to allow the beast access to the boss’s inner sanctum, but since one of those people was Drazar, it looked like he was already getting his comeuppance. As I got to my feet, steels in hand, it looked touch and go for the masked man; he had obviously cast some form of magic to try and dislodge the creature, but it had done little than cut its flesh somewhat and anger it even more. As I watched it snapped its jaws towards Drazar, drawing blood before I could do anything to stop it.

There was no way it was getting a second chance though, and with my head down and Basaedo held at my waist pointing forward I charged towards it as fast as I was able, and thrust the sword directly into the thing’s side. I felt the point break flesh, and thought I had inflicted a killing wound. But the vraag had faster instincts than I had expected and was rolling with blow almost as soon as it had landed. My sword may not have killed the creature, but it bit deep and forced it away from Drazar. I had heard horror stories about the ‘summer’ vraag though; male beasts, either old enough to have been forced out by a younger pup, or a young pup that had failed to secure its place at the head of the pack, both of which would be desperate and hungry enough to attack without its pack as support. Expecting the worst, I dropped back into a defensive posture, waiting for its next move.

I didn’t have long to wait though, as coming up on my left was Caderyn, axe in hand and swinging it hard down towards the body of the beast. Once more though it moved quicker than expected and the blow took it in a hind leg, the crack echoing around the rocks, sounding louder than the whelp of pain. The vaarg was still moving but going slowly now, whimpering rather than growling. That wasn’t to say it couldn’t still pose a threat, and putting it out of its misery could be considered a mercy so I stepped forward aiming to finish it off, the final strike finally putting it down.

Drazar was badly cut, but used his own magics to clean and seal the wound before I could even offer a medicinal rune to help him out. In the distance we could all here the baying of other vraags. It mustn’t have been a lone creature, but it seemed like the rest of its pack wanted nothing to do with attacking us, and were withdrawing. I wasn’t convinced they wouldn’t return though, so stoked up the fire before getting myself comfortable once more. Brand seemed happy taking what he could get from the vraag’s corpse, but everyone else looked ready to get straight back to sleep. Skuza would need some help though, and once more he was adamant that we turn around and retreat home, coming back with trained hunters to clear the way. A stupid idea of course, and luckily Valerius was once more on hand to calm him down and give him something to help him sleep. The herbal tea he offered was potent stuff indeed, as Skuza was still protesting, claiming the danger of the road was too much, and that come the morning we would turn around as he fell into a deep sleep.

*     *     *

My own watch, several hours later, went fine. No wild animals, no daemons shifting stones, just time spent relearning the runes I thought I might need for the next day. Caderyn had asked me to wake him early as he had preparations to make himself, and Brand was on the morning watch with me, as he had something he needed to take care of come the dawn. I’d heard about this, knew what was coming, and decided to hold off on rousing the Dummoni, allowing him a wake up call the everyone had better quickly get used to. You see, the folk of New Raphelia have their own way of keeping dark forces at bay.

Every morning, they greet the dawn with a screaming bellow, dancing naked – or damned near it –  shaking whatever they have to hand in an effort to scare away anything unpleasant that could have dared to creep up on them during the darkest hours. I couldn’t comment on how the daemons react to this hellish noise – none of the stones seemed to be at all put out by it – but it scares the living shit out anyone not prepared for it. By now, you could probably imagine just how the boss reacted, throwing open his window – barred from the inside after the vraag attack – and expecting hell on earth to have surrounded our campsite. Valerius seemed almost as put out as everyone else after the noise, so it fell to me to calm him down on this occasion. Luckily my Pelosian is pretty strong, even if I was unable to read and write it at the time. “Fear not the daemons my Lord”, says I, ” the New Raphelian is doing his damnedest to keep them at bay from the rest of us. It is a religious observance, carried out each morning to keep us all safe through the day from Daemonic influences.”

“Ah, yes. I see now”, Skuza lied, “should we all join in? A concerted effort if you will, to  drive away the foul creatures?”

“Best not my Lord. He’s a priest of his people, and knows the correct mannerism to be fully effective. Interrupting him, joining in even, no matter the intent could derail all his hard work. Best leave him to it, and just be thankful we have him on this journey.”

“Of course, of course.”, he nodded vigorously, before turning to Vitus, and whispering loud enough for the whole camp to hear continued, “We really must make an effort to convert him before the end of the trip.”, before ducking back into his little nest. Vitus barely had it in him to nod in agreement, but breakfast and a warming drink were already on the go, and I was happy to get back to shaving. Caderyn’s preparations differed somewhat from my own though. As we were eating, he was painting his body. The front side white, the rear black, and his face to mimic a crow. It was how the tribe who guarded the caves of the dead presented themselves, and he was obviously looking to fit in.

We were soon on our way again though, with the freshly painted Caderyn taking the lead, with me out front, but sticking close to the wagons as he moved quickly out of sight ahead of us. We’d moved Brand to the front cart, and Skuza’s home on wheels was between that and the rear cart, hoping to keep him out of trouble. After an hour or so on the road, I realised we were getting close to the two faced Corbie tribe. The birds they so idealised were in evidence, if not currently present. The entire valley floor was inches deep in shit and feathers drifted around our legs on the wind. A couple of corners later, and there was the tribe; on the cliff tops overlooking us, perfectly arranged to drop rocks from above, crushing us before we could even move. Luckily that didn’t seem to be their intention, as Caderyn had arrived ahead of us and told them what to expect.

We were expecting a challenge of some kind before we were allowed access to the caves, but since the manner of the test changed depending on who was taking it, we had no idea what to expect. The Corbie didn’t seem to want to hold up our journey for long though, and offered a simple test. We would send forth a champion who was to take a feather from a man of their own. He was a big chap though, tough looking, with just as much muscle on him as fat, and when he slid down the steep incline to step into the challenge circle, he was so light on his feet it looked as if he was gliding down on the feathers that adorned him.

Looking around at our fellows, the only one who looked his match for pure size and strength – not to mention body colour – was Caderyn. He was far from keen, but knew we had few other choices open to us, so stepped into the circle. The contest was far from evenly matched, with the Corbie’s size and dexterity more than a match for our man. He tried though, using trickery and feints to hopefully put the bigger man off his stride, but he had an answer for everything. Before long Caderyn was on the ground, and the wrestler was stamping hard onto his crotch. Our collective groan was easily drowned out by the cheers of the Corbie, but their man seemed unwilling to inflict further punishment on ours. After a brief exchange with the one who seemed to be in charge – and also high as a kite, if I’m any judge – a feather was taken from his headdress and handed to the still prostrate Caderyn. “You could have just asked for it”, the wrestler informed him as he was helped to his feet.

We had already answered their question, “Challenge, hearth, or passage?”, with passage, and with the fun of the show well and truly over, most of the Corbie seemed less interested in us, and drifted away from view as we were shown towards the entrance to the caves.

*     *     *

Caderyn had told us some of what to expect, that we would be entering a place where the barriers between this world and the next were worn thin. This could give easier access to our world for any manner of beings, be they Daemon blooded or those who were once living and breathing humans. On the road already I had added two the tally of possibly restless dead that could be on my trail, so I was stepping carefully to say the least. Once more Caderyn and I were at the front, and Vitus had passed me a small flaming torch to help light the way. Natural light was in short supply, with occasional glowing fungus, self illuminating crystals and even occasional light wells from above.

Sat in the centre of one such light well was what looked to be a half dead and rotting tree stump, surrounded by Corbie. At first they seemed to be standing and sitting in silent contemplation of the stump, but every once in a while, one would step forward and silently push his arm into a hole in the stump. With more to concern us, I never bothered to ask Caderyn the significance of the act, but once their arm had been in for a few moments, it was withdrawn and the next tribesman would take his turn. With a shake of my head I turned away as we approached a fork in the road. There were many markings around the fork, some at least I recognised as being Dummoni, but I had no clue how to read the language so left the decision making up to our guide.

There were several such choices along the way, and unfortunately, we didn’t always pick the best option. On one such occasion, it was only after we had already moved the front cart passed the fork that the error was spotted by Valerius. Once more his familiarity with all things Dummoni had paid off, as he was able to decipher the runic markings on the walls, and insisted that we pull back and take the other route. Easier said than done, with few of us able to handle the hormorn with much skill, but we did eventually manage it.

I had other things to occupy me though. Occasionally as we had stalked the caves, grasping limbs had reached out from holes in the cavern walls, and a generous man might just about think of them as hands with long fingers. “They ask for an offering”, Caderyn informed us, “but just how much it matters to give one has never been confirmed”. I watched them for the longest time, wondering just what they could be seeking, but imagining nothing pleasant.

“We have similar creatures at home”, came the voice of Brand, “they have a fondness for eyes”. Just about as bad as I thought then, and there was no way I was giving up one of my own with no guarantee of getting an easier passage in exchange. Brand reached into one of his many pouches and brought forth a fleshy orb, that he dropped into the waiting fingers of a nearby limb. It quickly withdrew, and the noises issuing from within reminded me of a child licking the last remnants of sweet cream from a mixing spoon. I would like to think the savage had just kept an eye from the Vaarg we had slain, as the other possibilities were not exactly pleasant to dwell on. 

With the carts almost all lined up again, I found myself alone for a moment, keeping an eye out down the passage we had elected to turn away from, just in case there was any danger to be found. Curiosity is my only excuse for what happened next, and I’m still unsure as to what other motive there could be for my actions. I must have known that it was something that should not be done as I looked about me, making sure that everyone else was otherwise engaged before I drew my razor from its leather pouch. I opened the blade up and gently drew it down my thumb, taking care to keep the wound as small as I could manage. As the blood pooled on my skin, I wiped the flat of the blade across it, smearing the dark liquid across its surface.

Reaching forward I wiped the same flat of the blade across an extended digit. It withdrew with unnatural haste, and I once again heard the greedy slobbering from within. Within a second or two, it shot out again, quicker than I had expected, and it even seemed to be reaching out further towards me, hungrily. I didn’t know if I had appeased it, or given the hidden creature a taste for something very precious to me; only time would tell. I slipped the straight razor away again and with a final look towards the rest cast a small rune to seal the wound clean hopefully avoiding questions about it.

I quickly rejoined the rest of the party, and retook my position at the front and we soon approached another fork. This one presented us with a an interesting problem, as from one side we could clearly hear the sounds of a woman crying out. My first instinct was to rush to her aid, but thankfully calmer heads prevailed. Many were expecting a trap, and based on what else we saw in those damnable caves, I was very glad we turned away from her sobs and continued on our way.

Nov 072013
 

Coming towards us out of the rain came two structures; the Toll Master’s house, and the bridge it was his duty to collect tolls from. The price wasn’t much, but I was still glad that our erstwhile employer was paying the coin per leg of those passing through. Vitus obviously expected this tax, as he had a pouch in hand before the Toll Master had even finished wheezing his demand through teeth stained with dark blood from his gums. As he started counting it out onto the rain splashed counter he activated the mechanism that began to raise the portcullis that blocked either end of the covered bridge.

The house and the bridge were of obvious Pelosian manufacture, and as such looked as if they would last through the next five ages. The Toll Master was talking in the common mish-mash of the two tongues of the Margomarissi however, and it struck me as unusual as we trudged through the wet ground onto the rain slicked stonework. From behind I heard one of my companions raise some kind of fuss. The Medic with the mask who spoke in sibilant tones was shouting about seeing someone off the side of the road, and Vitus turned his tether to investigate cantering away behind us. I was already uneasy, and this had me on edge. I looked through the rain towards the guards on the opposite side and started to notice things that made my hair stand on end.

Sure, they were dressed in the accouterments of the Pelosian legions, but it didn’t look right, even through the drizzle. I turned quickly to my right as I sensed more than saw some movement; a bedraggled man with soaking hair and rags was lumbering towards me with what looked to be a wood-chopping axe as he screamed out a guttural noise. I had no weapon to hand and if it wasn’t for my instincts I would certainly have been struck by his wild swing. To my left I heard the sound of metal striking wood and realised that my Dummoni compatriot was being assailed himself. Whether he was quick enough to throw his shield in front of the axe, or was just lucky enough to be fighting against an unskilled peasant, I was glad he had come out of the first encounter well, but immediately I had other things on my mind.

On the bridge ahead, even with the continuing deluge, I could tell that the Legionnaires had drawn and were attempting to aim stock bows at us. I can only imagine they had never used such weapons in the past as they had refused to drop their shields, and were struggling to bring them to bear. I had few options open to me as I drew my steels, but by using some fancy footwork I managed to get my attacker between the Pelosians and myself, offering me some cover if they were lucky enough to get off an accurate bolt. As I was moving, a Pelosian on our side took his chance and although I never saw it, he had climbed onto the roof of Skuza’s carriage and had loosed an arrow from a Dummoni bow.

All I knew of him at the time was that he had been hired on as some kind of physician to cater to Skuza’s many maladies, and that he was known as Valerius. What the hell he was doing with a Dummoni warbow and how he had managed to become so proficient with it was surely going to be an interesting story to tell later down the road. For now though all I knew was that keeping their shields up had done our assailants a favour as I heard the distinct sound of the arrow thudding into wood. I on the other hand was doing well, and with a quick thrust forward I had pushed the point of my Baseado through the bastard’s cheek. If we had left the fight there, he would have had a dueling scar to be proud of, but he was not to be dissuaded that easily.

As my own little melee was going on, my travel companions were engaged in their own struggles. I heard little of this, and saw even less, but will do my best to fill in the details based on what they had to say for themselves once the dust, ah, sorry, mud, had settled, and what other details I can remember. First I heard the Toll Master shouting a threat as the portcullis hammered down behind us, trapping the lead four of us on the bridge, while the others were left behind, “Just give us yer money! It ain’t worth it t’ fight back”! Well, he had obviously little experience of Pelosian business men if he thought that would be enough to get us to hand over what little we had, but it turned out he was deadly serious in thinking that we were outnumbered and sure to die unless we just rolled over with our money pouches exposed. There were two youngsters on the cliff above us, dropping rocks onto us as we defended against our assailants, but worse than that a hulking Hutzlnr was also soon in the fray, swinging a sword over a foot longer than my own as he charged towards the caravans. With him came a few others, all looking as down at heel as the bugger who was trying to make firewood of me, but with the giant on their side, they must have been confident.

Our own Hutzlner was quick to shout to him, and I only know what was said because it was translated to me afterwards. “Back down or feel the wrath of a Vytch!”, she screamed, but he was not to be dissuaded. Not even when a shot from her sling struck him in the chest. Vitus took advantage of the distraction to swing his short sword at the hulking northman, but to little affect. I saw the man after everything had calmed down, and he was a monster, even compared to his kinsmen I had previously met. He was also wearing a particularly fine doublet that I wasn’t too proud to grab, holed and bloody though it was. Back to the action though, and the masked man had already redeemed himself for distracting Vitus, by calling on the earth and the plants within in to pull down the cliff side, dislodging the children from above. Valerius seemed also keen to make up for an early missed shot and was quick to loose an arrow through the portcullis into the back of one of the youngsters who had regained his feet. The other was quick to leg it, and I for one wasn’t too keen to go after him.

The Vytch, Fjorlief, must have realised that intimidation wasn’t going to be effective against her countryman, and was soon employing her arcane arts, taking him over in body and mind, but leaving his soul in there to struggle against her bewitchment, his teeth grinding as he walked towards her and dropped the fine curved blade at her feet. With that in her hand, she and Vitus went at him with vigor, and although he eventually broke free from her enthrallment, it was too late to stop the inevitable and he fell beneath their blows. The hero of the fight off the bridge though was the New-Raphelian.

He had tried to tell us his name earlier, but I have no skill at his tongue, instead he translated it for us, and I think it was something along the line of “Fire Caused by Lightening”. I had thought of him as little other than a guide, but apparently he had performed exceptionally well, tearing through the swine who were trying to drag the goods from out of the rear carriage in seconds. No one was able to stand against his onslaught, as the ground was pink with blood and rainwater wherever he trod. He even saved the masked man, who although gifted with Earth Power, was unable to turn aside a knife slash from one of the bastards who had cornered him against the side of the middle caravan.

While all this was going on, I had problems of my own to deal with. While Cadeyrn the Dummoni was handling himself with a mix of style and brutality, I had a bolt shot at me as I turned aside another axe blow with my dagger. The swine was obviously expecting to take advantage of my previous thrust, exploiting an opening in my defense that only my dagger could close. I hoped then that many others would try the same thing; the dagger was specially made for my style of fencing, with a heavier blade than one would expect, a basket hilt and reinforced pommel meant that I had no trouble parrying even his vicious attacks with a hand axe. The wound on his face didn’t seem to be slowing him down much, so I thrust forward again. This time I aimed lower, and ended the thrust with a flick, puncturing his neck and opening up the artery beneath the skin, causing a spray of blood to splash against the carriage, and through the small window on its side.

He was made of rock this man though, and looked ready to come in again, maybe in his final act ever. I stepped backwards quickly, seeing one of the Pelosians running towards us, his stock bow dropped and a short sword now in hand to match his shield. I either wasn’t quick enough, or was paying too much attention to the charging Legionnaire, but the blow just about landed, and I felt it jar against my left arm. I was very glad indeed for the armour I had picked up earlier, as it cut through it but didn’t even break skin.

If he was still on his feet, blood gushing from between his fingers, and his mate was on the way, I needed to change my tactics. I dropped back onto the ball of my rear foot, and set my steels across my chest, It still might not be enough though, so I quickly inscribed a rune in the air and flung it forward. A powerful gust of air ripped ahead of me, as if from nowhere. The bleeder was flung from his feet, and even the Pelosian was staggered onto his back foot. I decided to still play it safe though, and kept in a defensive posture until I had got a read on my new friend.

I was very grateful I had, as within a few seconds I knew he was a pretty close match in terms of skill. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, but his large shield meant he could stay behind it indefinitely, with little I could do to break his defenses. As I was contemplating my remaining runes, wondering which would allow me the chance to disarm him, Caderyn jogged towards us, his arm red from a blow he was unable to get his shield in front of. The Pelosian looked from one to the other of us, and I saw panic in his eyes. “Drop the sword”, I said in Pelosian, and was gratified to see him acquiesce. Switching to Dummoni, I turned to Caderyn, “He has surrendered to me, he is to be spared”.  He leaned forward and used the hook of his own waraxe to drag the shield free from my prisoner as we set about discussing terms.

By then, the fight was all but over, and the Toll Master had opened the portcullis once more, but refused to exit his hideaway. I knew I had little authority of the prisoner, but I found out his name, Marco, and took his blade from the ground. It was a Ferros, a Pelosian honour blade, and there was no way it was his own. The other Pelosians were quick to question him about what had happened, and although he had few answers, they did establish that he was a deserter from an actual legion. I had heard from others that punishment for desertion was death, but I was unhappy allowing anyone else to kill him. Bandit or legion man, he had fought well, and surrendered to me personally. I offered the Ferros to Skuza as a trophy, but insisted that I be allowed to carry out the punishment. I had heard how the Pelosians liked to make deserters suffer before allowing them to pass on, and he didn’t deserve that.

While he was on his knees, begging for his life, I took his shoulder firmly in hand, and leant down to whisper in his ear, “Go to your God with honour”, before pushing the point of my dagger quickly into his skull just past his spine. As he heard my words he started to struggle, and then went stiff as the dagger went in. I felt a little bad for him, but knew that at least he had died quickly at the hands of his enemy, rather than bleeding out whilst nailed to a cross.

With everyone who had engaged in the ambush either dead or fled, we took stock of their gear, taking anything of value leaving the rest to the rain. I also took the time to close up Caderyn’s wound with a simple rune, but the masked man had taken care of his own deep gash with Earth Power. It had all taken a few minutes at most, and the majority of that involved talking to Marco before I killed him. Skuza was as happy as I had seen him, covered in blood though he was – the spurt had apparently caught him full in the face as he had lain, passed out in his carriage after the fight broke out – he was pleased that we had quickly and easily fought off the bandits with barely a scratch, and no loss of his valuable cargo.

And with that, we were once more on our way…

Oct 302013
 

This is the first of my weekly series of in game diaries of the character Kantrel di Gregori. These adventures are set in a game world created by a couple of friends of mine, and you can find out more information about the game and its upcoming Kickstarter campaign by heading over and checking out their Facebook page.

These stories of the beginning of my life as a duelist take place when I was but a young man, before I had bothered to better myself mentally and acquired the ability to write, so they are based on little but memories and shared stories. I will however do my best to present them as accurately as possible, with the bare minimum of hyperbole in there, just to sell myself as the hero of these tales.

By now you will know about my family background, and how mush I railed against it. You also know that I was making my way to the Margomarissi  to gain experience and coin so that when I returned, it would either be as a wealthy professional, or in a wooden box. Life does seem to get in the way though, and due to a series of errors of foresight, and not inconsiderable bad luck, I arrived as the campaign season was beginning to wind down. It had been a deathly hot summer that year and it took its toll on the combatants, meaning hostilities ceased earlier than usual, leaving me at a loose end.

I decided to supplement my income for the winter months by taking on work as body guard for anyone who had the coin and wished to slum it in the low towns with all the rest of us scum. I thought this would be dull work as there were few villains willing to take the risk against someone of my not inconsiderable height, but it turned out to be more fun that I ever imagined. She was named Toanna, or at least that’s what she told me. I think she saw in me a lot more than I ever intended, and might very well have worked out something about my breeding long before I had a chance to tell her the truth. I quickly stopped hiding such things from her th0ugh as our friendship grew into something so much more.

I never knew exactly who she was, but since I kept certain details about myself from her, I couldn’t think any less of my little Doe for her secrets. All I knew was that she was Dummoni, and from a family with money. Maybe they had gotten suspicious about our relationship, and only saw me as I meant them to – a hard up sell sword with barely a tin Parvus to my name – and moved her away before she could say goodbye. Maybe she had just grown bored of me and left? At the time though, I was young and cock-sure, and set about finding her. It took a few weeks, as these things will when you haven’t the money to bribe the right people, but eventually I found out that she had made her way to Tuthom-Pothrie.

It was a dangerous place to be with the war just wrapping up for the Autumn and before the yearly peace talks had even begun. I knew I had to find her though, regardless of the danger. My youthful vigour once again coming to the fore, along with the unshakable belief that I was indestructible, as all young men must feel at one time or an other. My luck had turned though as I easily found out about a caravan team leaving Solius-On-the-Mountain two days from then. It was too early for most of the traders to make such a risky venture, but my employer was without options.

Eduardo Skuza was a man with not an ounce of luck left to him. Once an important trader and Pelosian of note, he had lost almost everything in a very short period of time. With caravans lost to bandits, landslides or just plain vanishing, he was desperate and had just one way to return to his former glory. He would take what little he had managed to secrete away from his creditors, bundle it all into a couple of covered wagons, hire anyone foolish enough to join him in this craziness – with a promise of a share in the profit he would make – and get to Tuthom-Pothrie before any of the other traders. This would allow him to sell his wares at the price of his asking, and hopefully allow him to return to his former glory.

I was quick to accept after talking to his caravan master – a tough Pelosian known as Vitus Leale – as I understood that at least half a dozen men would be on the trip to protect his master. The following morning, as I woke with the dawn, eager to be on our way, I was to be disappointed. With the exception Vitus and myself, there was but one other trained warrior. He looked the part to be sure, with more weapons hanging off him that lice off a doxie’s bush, but just the three of us wouldn’t look enough to deter any sizable group of thugs and cut-throats. Still, if we stuck together and fought well, Caderyn – a Dummoni if the warbow slung over his shoulder was any indication – Vitus and myself might just get through it.

The others were a strange mix of of various races, including a man from New Raphelia, and hardly any of them even had a shared a common tongue with which to talk to each other. But we make do with what we have, and barring a two hour wait whilst our illustrious employer got himself bathed and powdered ready for the road, we were off in fairly good time. Sadly, the rain had started coming down hard as we were stood with  little to do but consider our genitals, and that meant I could barely see more than a dozen yards of clear space in front of the lead wagon as we made our way down the narrow cliff side path, and could hear little but the drops falling on my head and ears.

And those bandits I had been so worried about, well they obviously had seen that the weather gave them the advantage and decided to take a shot at getting our cargo away from us.