noir0

I hope we get to hear more about how a paragon got in so much trouble to get an assasin after him. This is one of the best reads i've had in quite a while.

broodijzer

yeah your writing style is amazing. keep going on please

LicensedLuny

/signed for more!

Like so many others, my compliments on your story telling talents. I particularly enjoy how well you weave together details from the game, that we can all go see, with details specific to your story. IMO, it's a great trick for pulling us players further into this.

GJ! Please do keep it up!
Luny

HezekiahKurtz

Thanks for the encouragement. I don't remember if I've mentioned, but I am trying to update the journal on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

__________________________________________________ _______________

Colossus 48, 1275 DR

This morning I greeted our group at the Eastern gate of Beknur Harbor. Bruck, Kandra, and Wez had gathered there with four others. The new folks were quickly introduced to me—their names don’t matter anymore—and we headed out. I went somewhat reluctantly, fearing that we would encounter Guel. Through the night I had toyed with the idea of abandoning the group; it seemed foolish to enter the area I knew my assassin had headed into. But on the other hand, leaving a group I got along well with also seemed foolish—they would certainly serve as protection.

The area we entered, Isnnur Isles, was recently some kind of farmland. At least, that’s the impression I get, from the rows and circles of dirt surrounded by knee-deep water. Perhaps, though, they are some kind of fishery, given the many nets scattered everywhere. The area is a foggy, damp swamp reeking of mold—well, it’s mostly swamp. A hill rises out of the marsh’s middle. An imposing structure is being built on that hill—or was being built. I did not see any workers there; it is either half-constructed or half torn down. Perhaps the aggressive monsters that scared away most of the farmers—fishermen, whatever—also scared away the construction workers.

We skirted around the hill, clearing the swamp of hostiles before we decided to ascend. Then one of the few, courageous remaining farmers hailed us and asked us to get rid of some bothersome flamingos. We obliged, given the pretty little reward he offered. I really enjoyed watching Bruck and Wez run around like little children, shooing those birds.

Once we finished and collected our gold, we turned our attention back to the hill. Several paths lead up to the structure; we took one from the Northern side. When we had almost reached the top, about ten corsairs—two groups—and a mob of undead came into view. Bruck, who led from the back, called out for everyone to stop and fall back a bit. The corsairs had spotted us, and watched us warily as we moved a small ways down the path and stood in a circle facing each other.

“These will require special handling,” Bruck told us. “I don’t think we can take all three groups at once. Let’s just try to pull one group of corsairs down this path. Wez, that’s your job. Everyone else wait about fifty behind him, in the usual formation. When he pulls, and comes back toward us, we should all back down; we want them to come about 150 feet this way, and then we can take the group safely.”

The rest of the group members nodded their understanding, but I thought I had a better idea. “Why don’t we try to pull the other two groups away in other directions at the same time? That way we don’t have to pull the first group so far. It’ll be easier to isolate it.”

“Too dangerous,” Bruck said. “We need as many people as possible to take out the corsair group—whoever pulls the other group would have to do it alone. That’s just too dangerous for them, and for the six of us taking out the other group.”

“All they have to do is kite the groups far enough that the rest of our party can quickly take out the other mob. It’s easy.”

He made a sharp, cutting motion in the air in front of his chest. “No!” And the discussion was over.

It quickly became apparent that Bruck’s plan would not work. Every time Wez tried to pull, all three mobs came, and we had to retreat until the monsters backed away. We tried four times before I decided to take things into my own hands. When the party moved forward a fifth time to draw one of the mobs, I motioned at one of the new guys—a ritualist—to follow me; I knew that he carried a bow and would be able to pull without getting too close. Immediately, Bruck noticed our separation from the party.

“Where are you going?” he called out to me. “Get back here!”

“Just going to try out my idea,” I said.

“Get back here!”

I pretended not to hear. The ritualist simply followed, and we cut across the hill to one of the other paths. I explained to him that he would draw the group of undead, and I would draw one of the groups of corsairs. All we needed to do was kite them a short distance while the rest of the group took out the other corsairs, and we’d be fine.

“Hold their attention as long as possible,” I said. “If they start to head back, fire another arrow at them.”

He raised his eyebrows at me, and said, “I’ve done it before.”

When we reached the top of the path, we were a good hundred feet away from the undead. They noticed us, but seemed more concerned with the bulk of our party. “You wait here, and pull the undead in that direction,” I said, pointing down a path to the west. “I’m going to go around the building and pull some corsairs to the South. The rest of the party will see when we do it, and know to take out the other mob.”

He nodded, and I left him there. Although the building was large, it took only a minute to circle. My heartbeat grew faster with each step as I envisioned what would happen; the adrenaline built in my veins with each breath. By the time I found a spot where I could pull from, the three mobs were returning from yet another failed attempt to separate them. Taking a deep breath, I cast Mending Refrain on myself, and then motioned at the ritualist across the way. He stood straight up from his crouching position behind a stone block and drew an arrow.

I did not watch to see if his dart hit hit—or if the rest of the party did its part—because I immediately threw my spear at the nearest corsair, and shouted “Hey ugly!” He turned just in time to catch the tip in his shoulder. I waited only long enough to see five of the corsairs start toward me, and turned to run. I took only a few steps before a net fell down over my head. Cursing—I had forgotten about that net they use—I fought to untangle myself. By the time I was loose, the corsairs had almost reached me. With a screech of metal on metal, a sword sliced across my back, but did not pierce my armor. An arrow glanced off of my shoulder.

I knew pulling was not supposed to work like this, but I now had a job to do at all costs—as long as there was someone left alive to resurrect me, I would be fine. But that was little comfort. Ignoring the pain of their blows as best I could, I continued to flee. It surprised me how long the corsairs hacked at my back, cursing and grunting as their weapons banged against me. They never tried to trip me or block my path—although I did stumble and nearly fall several times. They just beat away at my armor, gradually wearing down my health. The adrenaline that now filled me came not from anticipation, but from a rising fear; it’s no fun to die, even if you do know you can just be brought back. Sharp pains filled my body. My legs and arms burned. I felt my strength expiring, and my hope fading. Amazingly, right when I knew I was about to expire, when I had kited them a good hundred feet, they gave up, and turned back. Thank Dwayna.

Panting heavily, I turned as I cast Leader’s Comfort on myself. I saw, now, why they had retreated: the rest of the party was there, beating down their healer. In fact, just as I cast Mending Refrain on myself, the corsair healer cried out and crumpled under a gruesome blow from Kandra. Strength poured into me, and I re-engaged the corsairs, hurling spears at the new target that Wez was calling.

The corsairs did not last long. It was a good thing, too, as the undead were returning from their pursuit of the ritualist; he had done a professional job taking them quite a distance down the hill, and was cautiously following them. Before the skeletons made it to us, barreling forward with abandon, I caught a boiling look from Bruck; I knew I had best keep myself out of harm’s way for the next little bit—I doubted he would make me a healing priority. Without much coordination, the undead engaged us. We dispatched them without incident.

As the party members celebrated by looting the bodies and sharing the shiny gold, Bruck confronted me. His eyes bulged in rage; a vein stood out on the right side of his forehead. “How dare you!” he breathed. It surprised me, actually, that he didn’t shout it. Scared me. “How dare you disobey a direct order!” His staff vibrated as his tightly flexed arm trembled in fury.

My instincts told me I should be angry, but I controlled my temper and spoke in an even, calm voice. “It worked, didn’t it? It worked just fine.”

“That’s not the point! We had a plan, and were following the plan. You purposefully went against the plan.”

The other party members had gathered around us. From my left, the ritualist spoke. “That went rather well, I thought. I figure, no harm—no foul.”

Wez and Kandra kept silent, but the other new party members murmured agreement. I tried not to smile at that; it felt good that most of the party was siding with me. Bruck’s eyes simmered as I looked at him without blinking. In them, I could see his thoughts, could see him weighing his options. Once again, I thought of that paragon the monk had kicked out of the party near the Sunspear Great Hall. For several moments I regretted my going against Bruck’s plan.

Without taking his stare from me, he pointed behind himself, to the East. “Let’s move on.” As the party moved to follow his order, he leaned close to me. “If you do something like that again, you’re out. I’m only letting you stay because you’ve proved yourself over the last week. Don’t do it again.”

I nodded, hoping I didn’t look too relieved. The rest of the day was relatively uneventful until we got to Kodlonu Hamlet. Once there, Bruck called the party around him, thanked our four newcomers for their help, and then booted them.

LicensedLuny

Yay!!! TY Hezekiah! I've been watching this thread above all others for updates (and I showed a friend that's asked me a few times since if I'd found new updates.)

Quote:

The new folks were quickly introduced to me—their names don’t matter anymore—and we headed out.

That was great! Just funny in general and had me wondering if they were doomed to some awful, pitiful fate that wound up being easily forgettable. Excellent insta-hook!


I'm looking forward to the answers for the Canthan Paragon, happy to be away from guild nightmares, yet hunted by Guel the A(a)ssassin and the Bruck's secret master from the city mysteries. What suspense! I'm really hoping these are all breadcrumbs for clever unraveling later on. (I suspect you'll make us wait a while for all the answers, but that's what makes mysteries fun.)


And thanks for telling us about the schedule. 2 more days! Woot!
Luny the hooked

Princess Blades

Well I stumbled across this today and am now officially hooked. Great storytelling! I find myself engaged in the story and always wanting more. Keep up the great work.

__________________
Great deeds are usually wrought at great risks.
Herodotus (484 BC - 430 BC)

HezekiahKurtz

Colossus 49, 1275 DR

Today the worst possible thing that could happen to me happened—short of being killed and not resurrected, that is.

Apparently, yesterday Bruck got enough of leading an eight-person party, for he did not even suggest finding a few more people to join us as we entered the Mehtani Keys. He must have also had a pretty good idea for what we would be facing today, so he brought along Life Bond, and kept it on Kandra and me most of the time. We take the most damage, and today we took a lot of it. So many enemies, so few of us.

We headed East along the Southern edge of the area. I thought we had seen a fair number of corsairs during our journey so far, but today we put down almost as many as we have up until now—apparently an entire shipwrecked crew; a ship lay broken and beaten on the beach. Further East than where we met the corsairs, a temple sits on the area’s edge, half on the beach, half in water. Sadly, we could not find a way to enter. We continued around the perimeter of the area, heading North and then West, slaying more corsairs—I am tempted to say we single-handedly stopped an invasion today. But if the corsairs were easy to take care of, the wildlife was not. The Frigid Scales were simply devastating; had I known about them, I might have brought a few different skills. As it was, I died twice because of them, and by the time we reached a little fishing village on the Northern edge of the keys, I felt very weak and ready for the day to end. Healing simply cannot fix some things; only time can erase the more exhausting effects of dying.

The little fishing village sits right on the beach. I immediately went to the local merchant to lighten my load. I stood there in the sand, showing him my wares. It happened so fast, so suddenly.

A nearby shout drew my attention, but I only had time to turn before a light blue shadow fell over me. Sharp pain jolted through my neck; my trinkets scattered on the ground. A heavy weight fell on top of me and I crumbled backwards. Blood filled my vision, burned my gaze. My lungs were full and dark. Sounds, colors, smells, feeling, and taste all blurred. I began the plunge into that familiar grayness. A moment before I died, I perceived the weight lifting off of my body, the struggling above me—the sound of metal on metal, grunting and cries of pain. I remained dead for only a moment.

My spirit snapped back into my body; the blackness sprung away from my eyes, and it felt like a giant hand plucked me from the sand and dropped me onto my feet. My senses cracked back into focus, and I took three seconds to take in what was happening.

Kandra stood before Guel, her sword a blur as she rained her blade down on his body. Three arrows struck him in rapid succession—thunk, thunk, thunk! From his sluggish attempts to block and step away, he clearly suffered from the effects of Pin Down, although Critical Defense visibly aided his self preservation. Even so, neither the warrior nor the ranger seemed to concern him much. He paid them only peripheral attention, and kept his concentration square on me. Our stares locked. His eyes burned with unquenchable hatred.

When my generous three seconds of self-orienting ended, and more healing strengthened me, I bent to pick up my spear. Midway down, Shadowy Burden fell on me. By the time I looked up, there was only a deep blue glow where Guel had shadow stepped from. With the sound of eerie chimes and a flash, he appeared by my side and struck with a brutal barrage of blow after blow. I tried to block and step away, but could hardly move. At best, I deflected a blade or two before falling. The dual daggers continued to come at me. Before I could make any effort to scramble away, I perished again.

A world of gray opened up below me. Guel bent toward my body, stabbing at my face. My body jerked with his blows, but somehow I still held my spear. Blood sprayed up around the assassin, splashing on his chest, hands, and face. Kandra ploughed into him, striking him in the side of the head with her shield. He sprawled away, landing face down in the sand with a muffled cry. From a very close range, Wez put an arrow through Guel’s thigh and into the ground. He struggled to rise, but Kandra dove at him, swinging at his skull and slicing the back half away. It flipped away through the air. I had only a moment to view the gore before she fell on his head, pushing his face into the sand. Wez fired another Pin Down, this time piercing the center of the assassin’s back. The half skull landed brain-down in the sand. The assassin’s feet jerked, digging at the sand for several moments as his hands relaxed their grip on his daggers. Kandra rolled off of him, to her back, and Wez bent to help her up.

Tearing my eyes from the assassin, realized that a group of villagers had gathered around us in the 30 seconds the scuffle had endured. They stood in silence on the sunny beach, or in the shadows of houses. Most grimaced. Several shielded the faces of children. It was a strange thing to think, given my state and Guel’s finding me, but I wondered if they had ever seen such violence before. Certainly, they had witnessed beasts, fish, and other animals slaughtered—and probably some of their own taken down by the animals. But human-against-human violence is nothing like the violence of nature against man.

For the fourth time that day, Bruck summoned my spirit back to my body. I stumbled to the right, gasping at the chilling shock of life. I stayed afoot only by balancing myself with my spearhead. My face felt warm and wet, but wiping my hand across it only made the problem worse. Bruck watched me for several moments, his face stony; I repressed the urge to ask for more healing.

He turned to look at the crowd, and called out, “Does this man have any friends here? Is he a member of a party?” Not a person moved for the full five seconds it took the healer to turn in a slow circle, looking at everyone. “Then I will bring him back! You are all my witnesses of this, and that he will be bound to me!”

Terror gripped me again—not so much at the possibility of dealing with another of Guel’s attacks, but at why Bruck might want to bring my enemy back. “Are you crazy?” I asked, stepping up to him and pointing down at the assassin. “You can’t rez him! He’ll be right back at my throat!”

Wez knelt and rolled the assassin over. Somehow—coincidentally, I am sure—his eyes stared blankly right at me. I would have preferred him face down.

“Get out of sight.” He pointed to the other end of the village.

“You can’t bring him back!”

“Your DP is pretty high right now. Even I could take you down if I wanted. I’m not bringing you back again today—but I am bringing him back. Do you want to be around when I do?”

I shook my head. With a wide mouth, I looked back-and-forth between Guel’s corpse and Bruck’s stern face.

Kandra touched my shoulder, and then closed her hand over my elbow. “Come on, Jehoaz. Come on.” She started to pull me away, and I followed, still not understanding why Bruck would bring Guel back.

“You stay here, Kandra,” Bruck said. “There’s no telling what this maniac will do when he comes back.”

She looked at me with her eyebrows raised, and shrugged. She let go of my arm, but gave me a gentle push in the back. I did not resist—I really didn’t have the strength—and without looking back walked away through the sand.

I stopped at a bridge over a small inlet from the sea, and sat on a rock well out of sight of the other end of the village. Several children huddled a hundred feet away, at the corner of the nearest building. I barely heard their words, but I saw their fingers pointing. My head spun as I considered what might happen next; nothing good would come of the day’s events, I was sure. Panic grew in me with each passing moment, until I could not sit. On a whim, I stripped off my armor and climbed down to dunk myself in the water. The salt stung in several cuts on my face, and one in particular on my neck; the first fatal blow, I imagine. As I squatted there with the water up to my neck, I wondered how healing could fix Guel’s head. By the time I stood, red floated around me. I moved further up the inlet, away from the ocean, and immersed myself again. Despite the stinging, I did feel better.

I had time to dry and re-dress myself before anyone came for me—and then they all came. Bruck, Wez, Kandra—and Guel. I readied my spear as they approached, knowing there would be no hope if I had to fight even one of them. I could not pull my eyes from the assassin, who stared at me with unblinking hatred. A pang of guilt swelled in me, and I swallowed hard as they stopped in front of me.

“Well, Hezekiah,” Bruck said. “Guel here has told us an interesting story. Someday you’ll have to tell us your side of that story.”

“What did he tell you?” I asked.

“We’ll talk later. Perhaps tomorrow. For now, I want to get back to Kodlonu Hamlet. Today. It’s not far, and with the extra help of an expert assassin, I imagine it won’t take long.”

I could not believe what I was hearing. “He’s joining us?” The assassin clenched his jaw and fists, and he trembled ever so slightly.

“For today. We will see about tomorrow. Let’s get moving.”

And so they started on, and were a good fifty paces away before I had recovered from the shock enough to move. Really, the rest of the evening passed without event, although that seems like quite a silly thing to say, given the tension and fear I felt—feel. I dared not turn my back to Guel, and tried to always keep Bruck between us when we engaged a mob. But the assassin never looked at me. Never spoke to me—never spoke to anyone. As if he were a dutiful slave, he fought by Kandra’s side, and obeyed the monk’s every command. Even now, I am not sure how or why I am not dead, or why Guel is not sneaking into my tent to slay me.

Shadowfrost

Why tomorrow... WHY? The suspense is killing me!

TomD22

These are so well written - it captures pve in gw perfectly Keep 'em coming

broodijzer

so awesome. can't wait till the next part!

HezekiahKurtz

Thanks for your comments. They make writing this stuff much more fun.
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Colossus 50, 1275 DR

By the time I awoke in the morning—which is to say by the time I got up; I did not really sleep much due to the fear that the Guel would murder me in the night—the assassin was gone. I found Wez sitting atop the small hill in the town’s center. He sat on the ground, his legs bent and his arms wrapped around his knees. He faced East, watching the pink sky of dawn brighten to yellow. As I approached from behind, I wondered if he would welcome me; I was sure to make enough noise that I would not surprise him. He turned his head only slightly, to glance at me sideways as I sat. His face looked pained, troubled.

“Guel seems to be gone,” I said.

“Uh huh,” he said in an airy, absent tone.

He seemed so preoccupied that I wondered if he’d even realized what I’d said. I wanted to talk about Guel and what he might have told my party about the guild. And why had Guel not tried to kill me once he was resurrected? “That was quite a day, yesterday.”

“Uh huh.”

I paused for a moment. “I think I’m going to try to fly today.”

“Uh huh.”

I stared at him, wondering what had him so worried. After a moment, he blinked several times, shook his head, and looked at me. “Huh—what? You’re going to what?”

“Nothing,” I said. “What’s dazing you? Is it me?” I could not fathom what else might be bothering him. “Is it Guel?”

“No, no.” He reached over and patted my knee. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“No, it’s nothing for you to worry about. You have enough trouble right now, don’t you?”

“What did Guel tell you?”

“He’s an interesting person, isn’t he?”

“What do you mean?”

“Very honorable?”

“You’re confusing me.”

“That was quite a story he told about you and him. I am not sure what to believe.”

“It was the only thing I could do--.”

I was interrupted by a voice behind us. “That’s enough discussion on that topic, I think.” It was Bruck, and he was walking up the hill.

Wez rolled his eyes. “Yes, master.”

“Listen,” the monk said, reaching the top of the hill and standing in front of us, “you don’t have to stay in my party if you don’t want to. But as long as you’re in my party, you do what I say.”

Wez shrugged.

Bruck turned his attention to me. “Guel told us everything—he told us his side of the story, anyway.”

“A fascinating tale, I’m sure,” I said. “Do you want to hear what really happened?”

He nodded, raising his eyebrows. “Oh, yes, very much. But not yet. I want to give it a day or two; I want to watch you and see if what he said makes sense. It already makes some sense, given my experiences with you.”

“He has no reason to say anything that would cause sympathy for me.”

“I don’t doubt that. And I don’t doubt that you have no reason to say anything that would cause sympathy for him. But I don’t want to hear it yet. If you are going to stay with us, you are going to wait a day or two before you tell us your version.”

“Why would I leave you?” I asked. Really, I don’t have much reason to leave. I like them as much as I have liked anyone else, even despite Bruck’s merciless, dictatorial leadership style. It annoys me some, sure, but his skill in healing makes up for it—not to mention he’s a cartographer, and can help me explore this continent. Besides, if anything, I have a reason to stay on for a few days so I can tell them my side of the story and hopefully vindicate myself in their eyes.

“I don’t know why you would, but that option is always available to you. It’s available to all of you.” He looked up, past Wez and I. Turning, I was surprised to see Kandra standing behind us; I had not heard her approach. “But, of course, you are all welcome to stay. I like you all well enough—otherwise I would have booted you a long time ago.” He smiled—I could not decide if it was sarcastic or sincere—and then turned and walked away.

When he was out of earshot, Kandra said, “That man has some control issues.”

“Why do we stay?” Wez asked. “The three of us could leave, and find another monk to join us. I don’t think it would be hard.”

“He’s no that bad,” Kandra said. She sat next to me. “He’s fine ninety-nine percent of the time. There are far worse party leaders. You know, the ‘anyone know which way we need to go’ type.”

Wez and I mumbled our agreement; it really was true.

“So, if I can’t tell you what really happened, can you at least tell me what happened yesterday? Where is Guel today? Why didn’t he kill me after he was brought back? He didn’t even try.”

“He’s an honorable man,” Wez said again, as if expecting that the comment would explain it all to me.

“I don’t get it.”

“Apparently,” Kandra said, “we have a custom here in Elona that you do not have in Cantha or Kryta. When a person’s enemy resurrects him, that person becomes the property of the person who did the resurrecting. It’s only fair, after all, that the giver of life can decide what is done with that life.”

“So, Guel is now Bruck’s slave?”

“We don’t use the word slave,” Wez said. “But really, yes. The property is then bound to the owner, to do whatever the owner wishes. It took some convincing—mostly on the part of the villagers—but eventually Guel believed it. Then again, it may have been the horde of fishermen ready to pounce on him if he didn’t honor the custom. Bruck ordered him not to hunt you anymore, and to not hurt you, and he agreed. For now, anyway. Bruck did indicate the hunting ban might be lifted in the future. And Guel was very sure to verify that it only applies to him.”

“Only to him?”

“Apparently there are others from your guild looking for you.”

This news made my stomach lurch. Would no place be safe for me? “And that’s why you say he’s so honorable. He was feet away from me yesterday, and resisted the urge to kill me. He honored his master.”

“Absolutely,” Wez said. “I cannot imagine the strength of will it took him not to break Bruck’s command. He hates you very badly.”

“So, where is he now?”

Wez frowned and shrugged, shook his head. “We don’t know. He and Bruck spent some time talking quietly last night after you had retired. I got up just in time to see him head West. It would be hard for me to believe that Bruck has not sent him on some personal errand.”

“Did he say where the others were? My other guild members?”

Wez shook his head.

I sat in silence for a time, considering this information. My discomfort—so pronounced and obvious only a few minutes before—returned to the subtle unease that I had felt since the killing back in Cantha. It was a vague fear, an itching in the back of my head that no matter what I did, danger and death would find me. The sun peeked over the horizon. A soft wind rustled my hair. Suddenly, something occurred to me, “So, that would explain the voice we heard back in the first city.”

“How so?” Wez asked.

“The voice called Bruck his slave. Said Bruck was bound to him. So, according to your custom, at one point, they were enemies, and the voice killed him and then brought him back.”

“Can voices do that?” Kandra said. Her completely serious face and tone caught me off guard for a moment.

I smacked her leg with the back of my hand. “You know what I mean.”

She smiled, and then feigned innocence by widening her eyes, lifting her shoulders, and raising her hands, palms up.

Wez said, “You’re right, of course. I think Kandra and I had already put that together—I know I had, anyway. I guess we just took it for granted that you would know about that custom.”

I joked, “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“Oh, I won’t, Jeho—. Uh, Hezekiah.”

“About that . . . .”

“No worries,” Wez said, standing. “As Bruck said, we like you well enough to overlook an understandable little lie.” He smiled at me and walked away, in the direction Bruck had gone.

“I can’t tell if he meant that,” I said.

Kandra rose, too. “He did.” She grinned, tapped my leg with the toe of her boot, and followed the ranger.

I must admit that the rest of today has been very good. I tried not to dwell on Guel and other possible guild-members, but to consider the party I am with, and the ease with which we flow from one skirmish to another. Of course, I was careful to obey Bruck’s every order with exactness, and offered suggestions for tactics with caution. Wez and Kandra were the same as always—he offering up his observations as we traveled, she speaking more with actions and looks than words. They did not treat me any differently than they had in days before—I had half-expected them to, given their knowledge about Korhan and the guild.

We traveled back through the Issnur Isles to the Docks, and then into the Cliffs area.

“I am tired of this place,” I commented, meaning the general area; as always, we stayed far away from the cliffs where Bruck had described battles that hadn’t taken place, though it would have been faster to cut across them.

“This will be our last time through here,” Bruck said.

“Promise?” Wez asked.

Bruck grunted. “It won’t be many days until we will be leaving Istan. Kourna and Vabbi await.”

I glanced at the others, and saw anticipation in their eyes. I, too, am anxious to go and see the other cultures in this land—almost as anxious as I am to tell my friends my side of the story. Tonight we are in Blacktide Den. In the morning we will enter the swampy land to the south.

The Missing Monk

Really good stuff, keep 'm coming!

broodijzer

oooh very interesting ending on that part. Keep them coming!

HezekiahKurtz

Uh oops! I need to delete that last section. It's meant for a future entry.

Doh!

Forget you saw it, as I may not end up using it.

HezekiahKurtz

Sorry no update yesterday. I had a small problem with an email.
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Colossus 51, 1275 DR

We departed first thing in the morning into a dismal swamp called Lahtenda Bog. When we weren’t wading through muck, the plush ground squished under our feet. The reek of long-dead flesh hung in the still, rank air, trapped under the canopy of dense and hanging trees. My eyes watered from the stench. My legs itched from the film left by the greasy, thick water; more than once I found myself cursing the short clothing of a Paragon, and wishing for a ray of sunlight to break through the branches. It did not take long for me to look for an escape from the swamp.

Around noon we came across a ruined pair of covered wagons. They sat shattered and broken in a flickering ray of sunlight, half on mushy ground, half in swampy sludge. The cloth of the cover hung loose and tattered, still and sorrowful. We approached with caution, weapons ready, legs moving through the water so slowly they hardly left a ripple. We tilted our heads this way and that, hoping for a better angle to see enemies that might lurk in the deep, nearby shadows. A subtle, fearful dread rose in me with each foot we grew nearer.

“Stop!” I said, hoping I did so loud enough for Wez and Kandra to hear from their positions fifteen and twenty feet ahead of me. They obeyed, and their heads jerked back-and-forth as they searched for a foe.

“What is it?” Bruck asked from only a few feet behind me.

“Do you feel it?” I said.

“I do,” Kandra said. She half turned her head; her left eye, wide and glinting, looked back at me.

“There is something here—in this swamp,” Wez said.

“What is it?” I asked.

From behind us, a voice sounded. It was faint, yet unmistakable: “Shwshwwweeewshshweeew.” That is the only way I can describe it. I understood it perfectly—I could not tell from how far away it came; could have been a hundred yards or six feet. It was not loud, but also not quiet. It came again, this time from ahead of us. “Shwshwweeeerrewshwwwshwww.” It fed my dread, made the emotion swell in my chest. I gasped for breath in the suddenly thick and suffocating air.

“It sounds like whispering,” Wez said. He started to back away from the wagons. “Kandra! Get away from those!” She stepped backwards, as well.

“It’s not coming from there,” I said. “It came from behind us.”

“Not the second time,” said Bruck. “Let’s wait. Be ready.”

We stood in a tight group for no less than five minutes, watching and listening. The ray of light that had danced on the wagons flickered out. Shadows deepened. But eventually, I realized that the feeling had subsided. “I think it’s gone.”

“I don’t feel it, either,” Kandra said.

“What was it?” Wez asked. “I have never felt like that before—not for no apparent reason, anyway.”

“Let’s keep going,” Bruck said. He started on, toward the wagons.

“Do you know what it is?” I asked him.

He stopped with his back toward us. He stood hunched and breathing heavily. After a moment, he looked over his shoulder, and in a raspy voice said, “I may. But let’s get away from here, head to the coast in the West. I will tell you soon enough.”

“Yes, but will it be soon enough?” asked Wez. “Or will it be too late?”

“I’m not certain!” Bruck said. “I’m not certain what it is. If I am wrong, there is no need to make you fear—yet. When I am certain of the danger, I will tell you.” And he splashed on.

We trudged on at a more deliberate and careful pace. The deeper into the area we traveled, the denser the darkness grew. I am not sure how much time passed before I realized that since hearing the voice, we had not encountered any more monsters or corsairs. It only served to amplify my sensitivity to the surroundings, to heighten the tingling sensation in the back of my head that told me we walked on the precipice of “something about to happen.” I wished I knew that cliff was, and what I needed to do to survive it. The thought came to me that I only needed to keep the monk alive.

Eventually we stopped in the shadow of an abandoned hut, and pulled out some food. For several minutes we stood huddled tightly together, facing out into the swamp and not speaking. The drake jerky and crumbly bread tasted like a fine feast compared to the constant rotten taste of the humid air.

Without warning, Bruck, who stood next to me, inhaled sharply and stiffened. In the next moment I understood why: the foreboding I’d felt earlier started to rise again in my veins.

“Not to state the obvious,” Wez said. “But it’s back.”

I shoved the remainder of my bread into my mouth and lifted my spear. My companions hefted their own weapons and stood ready. For ten or fifteen seconds, the dread intensified, flowing through my veins and pumping in my ears. It took effort to keep my hands from shaking. The air thickened. The bread’s taste transformed to bitter and burnt in my mouth. I spit it out, and scraped my tongue with my fingernails. About the time the fear reached its zenith, the whispering returned.

“Shwshwwweeewshshweeew.”

“What is it saying?” Kandra hissed. “It’s quiet—but clear enough that I should be able to understand it.”

“Shwshwwweeewshshweeew.”

And then the emotion began to subside. As quickly as it had come, it was gone.

“It’s speaking another language,” I said. “That has to be it.”

“I don’t think so,” Bruck said.

“Then what is it?” Wez asked. “You seem to know all about this. I think it’s time you shared a little information with us.”

Bruck looked at each of us in turn, his breathing heavy and measured. “Not now. Not here. There is a spot where we can spend the night. Let’s finish exploring this section of the area, and then we can go there to settle in for the night. Does that sound fair enough?”

“Unless we’re dead before then,” Wez said.

We pressed on. About thirty minutes later we emerged from the canopy of trees, onto a beach. Thick, dark clouds filled the sky from horizon to horizon, and a fresh breeze finally stirred in my hair. I breathed long and deep, glad to be free of the constricting, heavy air of the bog. Relief flooded into me, like a wave of unearthly healing. On a whim I ran into the water. My three companions followed as I dove into the surf, washing my clothes and skin of the slime and filth. Refreshed and reassured, I emerged laughing. Kandra came up next to me, losing her balance as a wave rolled into us. She fell against me. The two of us went under and struggled to regain balance. Our arms and legs bumped and brushed each other, until coughing and sputtering we found our feet. Laughing, we returned to the shore, where we collapsed next to each other.

As suddenly as the relief had filled me only moments before, it was replaced by the return of the dread, which rose sharply, caustic and piercing, stronger than it had been either of the two other times. I jumped to my feet in a panic, wondering where I had dropped my spear. I spotted it twenty feet ashore, and scrambled toward it.

The whispering tickled my ears. “Shwshwwweeewshshweeew.”

I reached the weapon and turned so I could gauge the status of the other party members. Kandra stood in a stance, her blade ready. Wez stood knee-deep in water, his bow drawn. Bruck was casting Mark of Protection on himself. Wanting to be near them, I moved back toward the water. They must have felt the same way, for by the time the second whisper came, we all stood within fifteen feet of each other. I struggle not to shudder at the unintelligible whispering.

And then, just as before, once the second whisper finished, the fear it brought began to subside. In half a minute, only its memory remained. The repeated swell of the ocean filled the silence between us.

After at least a minute, Wez said, “It’s not so bad the third time.”

“Let’s move on,” Bruck said. “It will take us an hour to get where I want to go.”

“We’re not going back in there,” I said.

“It’s safer in there,” Bruck said, “than being out in the open. There is a sacred, ancient spot. You will feel better when we get there.”

And, surprisingly, I do feel better. The place feels like a different world than thirty feet away, in the thick of the bog. It’s a small alcove dominated by three large stone heads facing each other. They are like the ones being unearthed in the Jokanur Diggings. No tree branches cover the area, so the air is not muggy and constricted like in the midst of the swamp. A small breeze even blows. But more than any of that, there is a feeling here. I suppose Bruck was right to use the word sacred; this place feels like a sanctuary, a haven. It feels undisturbed. Its silence is not unnatural, but welcome and peaceful.

As we sat in a circle, feeling safe around a small fire, Bruck told us about the whispering.

“We live in a physical realm, in a place where we see and feel and touch everything around us. There are other realms—you have probably heard talk of them. Heaven. Hell. The Mists. Others. There are beings from these realms that come here, that try to exert influence over us, and to have control. The voice you hear is that of the beings from one of those realms.”

“What, from heaven? Hell?” I asked.

“I vote heaven,” Wez said, giving me a crooked smile.

“I am not sure which realm,” Bruck said. “But given the way it makes me feel, I don’t know this being’s home is one we would want to visit. All I know is that the voices of these beings have power. They influence those that understand their words, push them toward action without their really even understanding why they are doing it. Quite simply, their words have power over our weak minds.”

“Why can’t we understand it? Or see it?” I asked.

Bruck shook his head. “I am not sure what determines who can hear and understand their words. I cannot understand them any better than you—it comes out as whispering gibberish. And we cannot see the being unless it makes itself visible to us. Clearly, it has chosen not to—for which I am thankful. I have seen a being of this type before. It has been many years, but its speech was the same, and caused the same fear.”

“Where did you see one?” I asked.

He shook his head and waved vaguely to the East. “In the plains out in a Vabbi area. For all I know, this being could be the same one.” He paused to swallow hard, and shuddered as he looked into the fire. “That is—one of the same ones. There were actually two, there, warring with each other. They had other beings from their realms fighting for them and with them, and many minions from our own plane. Some human. Some animal. Some ‘intelligent.’ Others not. I do not understand what really happened. I don’t know which faction won or lost. Beings from our realm seem to switch sides repeatedly. One moment they attacked one foe, and the next they were turning and beating on an ally. It went back-and-forth so much that I could not keep track. And always that constant, unending whispering.”

He stared into the fire in silence. Eventually he looked back up at us. “I fear that perhaps we are stuck between another such battle, here in these swamps.”

“What do we do?” Kandra asked.

He spread his hands wide. “We press on, exploring as planned. We could return to the Blacktide Den, I guess. But who is to say we don’t get caught up in it on our way back there. We may as well press on.”

“Can we stay here until it passes?” I asked.

“This place is not invulnerable. We can be caught up in it here as well as at any other place. It could happen at any moment—it could happen in the morning, or never.”

“Then we just keep going,” Wez said. “Just go on our merry-little way and hope we don’t get smashed between two invisible beings from other-worldly realms that want to control us with their whispering gibberish. Sounds perfectly reasonable. Great plan.”

Well, none of us could come up with anything better, and now we wait for morning.

broodijzer

excellent piece of work again. keep up the good work!

The Missing Monk

(another) Good piece

The Missing Monk

Can't wait for the next piece!

HezekiahKurtz

Colossus 52, 1275 DR

We really should have just turned and gone back to Blacktide Den. It would have been smarter. But, as they say—eyes in the back of your head see better than the ones on the front.

We headed South from the shrines, moving as quickly as we could. We still encountered no other living animals—no skales or harpies, corsairs or rinkhals. The air hung quiet and still. I swear that even the trees waited in silence; the prickly shrubs and stinging weeds remained motionless and ready, anxious for something. I listened at every step for the invisible being’s whispers, probed my heart for the sudden fear.

We moved with such speed—with such a complete lack of opposition—that before mid-morning Bruck announced that we had almost finished. The only place left to explore were the ruins of a once-great city. I could not see any buildings or man-made structures through the tree branches, but I knew when we started to draw near because the inexplicable fear touched my heart. At first it tingled subtly and weakly, but it grew stronger with each step. Before much longer, the whispering gibberish started.

“We should turn back,” Kandra said. Her voice shook.

“You can,” Bruck said. “I want to see what is there.”

Strangely, so did I. A compelling, deadly fascination overpowered the instinct to turn and run. I foolishly desired to see one of these other-worldly beings. We all continued on. Gradually, as the gibberish grew stronger, and as the fear intensified, a deep, angry rumble—like the sound of a busy marketplace tainted with aggression—rose from the direction we traveled. We continued until cresting a hill and rounding a corner, when the ruins came into view. Ducking off of the path, we hid behind some trees to observe.

A wide, long courtyard spread out before us, toward the West. On the side opposite us the swamp encroached over a broken, defeated wall. At both ends—North and South—stood tan stone buildings of an ancient architecture. They were blocky yet majestic, strong yet crumbling. I suppose I might have found them stunning were it not for the source of that angry rumble.

In the midst of the buildings, on each end of the courtyard, an army—I can think of no other word for them—was assembled. These were not like any other fighting forces I had ever seen. They did not stand in rows and ranks. I saw no apparent leaders or organized battalions. Each army simply consisted of a boiling mass of things—corsairs, drakes, skales, rikhnals, harpies, spiders, locusts, bogas, and even an occasional Sunspear or two. It was hard to tell exactly what was happening in the groups, for there was no organization. Most of the individuals moved constantly, darting this way or that, sitting or standing. The front-most ranks frequently swelled forward, raising weapons or claws in rage toward the opposite force, and shouting or roaring or bellowing. But like a wave sliding back-and-forth on a beach, they would soon retreat back to their original position, only to move forward again in a few seconds.

Strangely, the mish-mash of soldiers even frequently fought amongst themselves. In the few minutes we stood there, I saw no fewer than six creatures simply turn and pounce on a neighbor, only to be mobbed and slaughtered by nearby allies. I was certain that each army balanced on the verge of immediate self destruction.

We waited there, captivated and dumbstruck, watching as these two armies faced each other and fought with themselves. The whispering continued, constant and piercing. Eventually, I discerned two voices—one coming from the South, the other from the North. One voice for each army. The words melded in my head, drowning out my thoughts. I have never known fear like I felt then—and not simply the fear inspired by the voices, but also by the riotous companies before us. It seemed they would break forth at any moment and clash in chaos. I did not know how we would escape such a battle.

A ruckus suddenly rose behind us, like the sound of a hundred horses stampeding through the mush. We turned to see no fewer than forty skales splashing through the swamp, roaring and gnashing their teeth as the headed directly for us.

In retrospect, I find it amazing how my mind analyzes situations so quickly, and yet leaves me unable to act. And that’s how I stood for several moments—frozen in inaction and indecision. Surely, I thought, we could not fight such a horde as that, and we could not escape them by trying to get around or through them. But the other direction held greater danger; stepping out into the open would put us in the middle of the courtyard, between two assumedly hostile armies. Neither option seemed viable—and the dread already in my heart did exactly not inspire action.

“Run!” shouted Bruck, and he bolted out into the open.

“Son of a harpy!” Wez said. “He’s nuts!” But he started to run after the monk. Kandra and I looked at each other, shrugged, and followed.

Immediately a clamor rose around us as the armies erupted in shouting, roaring, and screeching. The force to the left surged forward, teeming between buildings and out of windows and doors, into the clearing. Not a second later, the army on our right leapt into motion. Bruck continued at full speed, straight across the courtyard, as if wanting to make it across to the wall and swamp on the other side. I did not think we could possibly attain the goal—surely the armies would crush us in their midst, like two moving walls decimating four unfortunate insects when they met. Blood and adrenaline pounded in my ears, nearly covering the whispering, almost making me forget the terror racing along my skin. Kandra cast Charge. Magically, my legs churned faster than otherwise possible.

Across the way, a gaggle of harpies emerged from the trees, wings spread wide and weapon pointed forward as they skimmed over the ground, directly at us. Without hesitating, Bruck—thirty feet ahead of me—turned sharply to the right. With only an instant’s hesitation he regained his speed, and ran directly towards the advancing army. Wez and Kandra followed.

My change of course was not so unflinching or tight. In fact, I stopped dead in my tracks, confused and horrified at my three apparently suicidal companions. The ground shook. The air rippled at the sound of the impending clash, at the charging of the armies. Bruck turned his head and saw that I had stopped. Still not slowing, he beckoned for me to follow, and shouted something I could not hear over the din. And then he disappeared into the blur of skales, rinkal, harpies, and corsairs.

It was panic then—only panic—that spurred me on; if he died, the rest of us stood no chance. Ignoring the skales behind me, the harpies before me, and the horde to my left, I turned and barreled straight for the spot where I had last seen Bruck. Wez fired an arrow before he, too, was swallowed up. Kandra met a rinkal with blade singing, and then I saw her no more. The advancing, churning wall of fangs, claws, and scimitars consumed my field of vision. I hurled a spear at the nearest corsair, and he went down. A rigdgeback took his place at the front, trampling the fallen’s body.

I did not have time to throw another spear. Only fifteen feet before we would have collided, the wall parted before me as if some gigantic, invisible and impenetrable wedge protected me. The creatures—every last one of them—passed a few feet to my side, as if they did not see me. In shock I lowered my spear, but somehow continued to run. Mud splashed up around me, onto my clothes and into my face. The whispering continued, and the fear raged as strong as ever—but not a single creature engaged me. None of them raised a weapon or bared teeth in my direction. I could not fathom what was happening.

Ten seconds passed. Fifteen. Twenty. Me, still running, hardly believing I still lived with such a ravenous mess of enemies all around me. Not knowing where I was headed—and not feeling like I had any control over it, anyway—I exited the courtyard via a narrow street with columns and buildings rising up on both sides. My legs burned and my chest ached. The crowd began to thin. I thought I caught a glimpse of Kandra up ahead, and renewed my sprint. In another twenty seconds, as I came to the edge of town, the last of the creatures were behind me.

But that did not mean I was in a better situation.

I skidded to a stop at the edge of a muddy pool of water, next to Kandra and Wez. Although the din of the battle behind us was still loud, the whispering all but smothered it. With one hand I clutched my spear, and with another I grabbed Wez’s shoulder—it was all I could do to keep from fleeing. Bruck stood ten feet ahead of us, knee-deep in muck, his staff—glowing at one end with a blinding white light—raised over his head in a posture of defense.

A beast hovered above and before him, fifteen feet off the ground. I could not tell by what means it levitated. If there were wings, I could not see them. If it was magic, I saw no glow of any enchantment. In fact, darkness seemed to emanate from the creature, to consume all light around it. Because of that, I am not sure how many legs it had, or how many arms. I am sure it stood upright, like a human. The darkness obscured everything immediately surrounding the creature, but somehow I could see its skin, which shifted in color and texture, from light red to deep red to black—I can only compare it to what a person who has had his skin burned off might look like if the muscles and sinews blurred and merged and shifted. Its head was that of a human, but misshapen and ever-changing. One moment it was wider. Another moment it was narrower. A bulge appeared at its hairless crown, and then disappeared. Another on its chin. Only one thing stayed constant—one of the two mouths moved.

In that moment, I knew this being was the source of the whispering.

It opened its other mouth, and spewed forth a voice that cracked like bones breaking. “Your task is not here. Why have you disturbed this aspect of the master’s plan?”

“I did not do it intentionally!” Bruck said. His voice sounded like a pig’s squeal, and his body shook. I can only imagine that the being was doing something unseeable to him. “I was only trying to find the signet our master seeks!”

The being considered this information for several moments. It’s glowing yellow eyes—all four of them; two in the front, and one where ears would have been on a human—smoldered. The lower mouth continued to move, to speak the gibberish. “Do not cause more problems in this nation. The signet is not here. You must leave—go to Vabbi or Kourna. Search there.”

“I will! Please! Let us go!”

With a deafening crack, followed by the rushing sound of a tornado, the being exploded forward, over our heads and toward the sound of battle. I turned to watch him go, but he moved so quickly that I only saw him for a moment as he disappeared into the city.

Bruck collapsed into the bog. Wez jumped to him, pulling him gasping out of the water.

“Get us . . .” Bruck said. He struggled to open his eyes. The staff slipped from his fingers. “Get us . . . out of here. Far as you can . . . .” And then his eyes rolled back, and he went limp.

We carried him northward as fast as we could. He has still not regained consciousness—even now, deep into the night as we rest in a tent in Blacktide Den.