Curse

The Missing Monk · Dec 27, 2006, 12:54 PM // 12:54

Interesting end, can't wait for the next one

broodijzer · Dec 27, 2006, 06:13 PM // 18:13

very interesting again!

HezekiahKurtz · Dec 29, 2006, 03:16 AM // 03:16

Here's to hoping I can keep it interesting after the next few entries!

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Colossus 53, 1275 DR

Late this morning Kandra, Wez, and I sat outside the tent where Bruck lay asleep on a cot. Sometime during the night he had awoken for a moment, muttered something about “take out those trebuches”, and then slipped into dreams. It made us happy to simply hear him speak, and we sat there, this morning, wondering between us what we’d gotten ourselves into.

“Quit your clucking out there!” came a voice from the tent. It was weak and shaky, but it brought us sharply to attention. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Come in here and I’ll give you some details.”

We blinked to the dim light in the tent, and found Bruck sitting up, but hunched over. His pallid, tired face looked at us with guilty concern as Kandra and I fussed over his well-being.

“Stop it—both of you,” he said.

We fell silent, and looked back-and-forth at each other. She and I simultaneously sat on a small bench next to each other, and waited. Wez remained standing by the door.

Bruck took a deep breath, and looked down at his hands. “I must apologize. I took our party into a situation I should not have.”

“You had no way of knowing what was going on there,” Kandra said.

He laughed quietly and shook his head. “Oh, I had an idea of what might be happening, but I went, anyway.”

“Mind explaining what, exactly, was happening?” Wez asked.

He nodded, closing his eyes and laying his head back on a pillow. “You’ve come this far with me, which is more than I can say for most of the people that have joined my parties. I suppose I owe something of an explanation to you all.”

“I think so, after yesterday,” Wez said. He folded his arms across his chest, and assumed an expectant stance.

“About fourteen years ago, I went into the first city, looking to purge it of the evil there. Long story short—I failed. My entire party was slaughtered, and our enemy, one of the other-worldly beings, brought us all back to life.”

“Wow,” Wez said. “That was surprisingly to the point.”

Bruck continued. “His magic is different than ours—it is much more potent. It binds us to him, forces us to obey his will. I wanted to disobey him—and would have, long ago—but . . . I simply cannot.” He paused for a moment in thought, and looked around at us. Apparently, he saw my confusion. “You know that when I brought Guel back to life, he did not kill you despite his wish to do so. Our custom dictated—dictates—that he does what I ask. In a sense, he becomes my property. Out of honor—and, admittedly, probably a fear for his life—he obeyed the custom. In contrast, my master’s magic forces the custom on me. I cannot disobey him if I want. His magic influences my actions—makes it impossible for me to disobey him.”

“That is powerful magic,” I said.

“It’s not from our world—it’s from another plan, another realm. Honestly, I suspect it is such magic that created our custom many generations ago.”

“So, you are bound to this other-worldly being?” Kandra asked. “What is his name.”

The monk shrugged. “I don’t know even that. I know only that he tasked my party and I with finding him a skill—an exceedingly rare elite skill. He called it only, ‘Signet of Amplification.’ And told us we would know it when we saw it. We were to bring it back to him. I don’t know if it’s from our world, or his.”

“That’s it?” Wez asked. He sounded honestly surprised. “That’s your big secret?”

“Over time, my party members and I have split up, and gone our separate ways. But all of us wander the land, searching. We keep in touch through letters, and generally meet once a year. We have learned more information than we originally were given—but not a lot. It turns out that our master and another other-worldly being are warring against each other in our realm. They vie for dominance of our world. It appears that yesterday . . . .” His eyes grew wide, his shoulders tensed, and he looked at us sharply. “It was only one day ago, right?”

We nodded.

He relaxed. “It appears that yesterday we were caught in something of a battle between the two sides.”

“And you knew what was going on when you took us down?” Wez said.

“No. I knew from the whispering that there was at least one being down there. I did not know whether it belonged to my master, or to our his enemy. I had hoped to gather a little more information.” He gave a narrow, crooked smile. “Mission failed.”

“And that’s why we weren’t killed,” I said. “You took us into your master’s horde. They would not kill one of their own.”

He looked away. “Well, I suppose.”

“What does that mean?” wez asked.

He gave us a sheepish look, and again smiled weakly. “I guessed properly.”

A chill ran down my spine. “You mean to say—the only thing that saved us from certain destruction was that you took a stab at which side was your master’s, and were right?”

“Yes.”

“A wrong guess . . . .” Kandra said. Her voice squeaked.

Wez motioned at me to move over, closer to Kandra, and he sat next to me. “And the mission would have really failed,” he said.

“Indeed,” Bruck said.

“Did you have any way of knowing which side was which?” I asked.

He shook his head. For several moments we sat there in silence, contemplating how our lives had hung in the balance of a fifty-fifty guess.

“Now, if you don’t mind. I would like to rest up a little more. I would like to travel to the Jokanur Diggings later this afternoon. And tomorrow, travel to Kamadan. We will set sail for Vabbi from there.”

“I have a lot more questions,” I said.

“I don’t know what more I can tell you,” Bruck said. “I don’t understand a lot of it, myself.”

I am skeptical of that comment, but I did not argue. He rested for another several hours, and we arrived back in the Diggings late tonight.

broodijzer · Dec 29, 2006, 02:43 PM // 14:43

You have a very strong plot and story, plus an amazing writing style. Keep up the good work, I love it!

TomD22 · Dec 29, 2006, 05:10 PM // 17:10

Engaging as ever

Minor thing though - trebuchets has a T :P

HezekiahKurtz · Jan 03, 2007, 04:06 AM // 04:06

Uh, oops. In the previous entry or two I mentioned that they were going to Vabbi. I meant Kourna. Oops!
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Colossus 54, 1275 DR

We embarked in the late morning—yesterday’s journey to the diggings took a harder toll on Bruck than he’d anticipated. We tried to convince him that we could rest for a few days, but he insisted that he could rest on the ship to Kourna. Citing a general feeling of weakness, he asked that we avoid as many enemies as possible today, and we generally succeeded. He really looked fine; just a little pale. When we asked what was physically wrong, he simply responded that his bones still hurt. We only made it as far as the Astralarium—when Bruck gave us the chance to go to the Astralarium, or to Champion’s Dawn (and therefore through the cliffs area), we all chose the Astralarium—and tomorrow will return to the Jewel of Istan.

In the afternoon, after we had stopped in the shade for a quick lunch, I decided it was time to tell my side of the Guel’s story. It has been eating at me for days, and I have resisted the temptation to ask until now. But since Bruck had revealed his secrets to us, I felt it was time to tell them what really happened back in Cantha.

“Honestly,” Kandra said, “I had forgotten completely about Guel.”

Wez nodded.

Bruck said, “I don’t think what you’re going to tell us really matters. I don’t know that any of us is worried about it. We trust you.”

“You seemed worried about it the other day, after Guel had left,” I said.

He shrugged. “It seems pretty minor to us, really. It’s a personal thing between you and your guild. Big to you and your guild,” he said, holding has hands wide, and then brought them very close together and continued, “small to us.”

“It’s still important to me. Very important. I want you to know what happened.”

“Very well. Tell us.”

So, as we traveled through the wetlands, taking the long way around mobs, and waiting for them to pass, I told my party what had happened back in Cantha. I had been rehearsing for days what I would say.

“We were scheduled to fight in the Hall of Heroes for the championship, against a guild we considered our nemesis: Mad Hatz. We had defeated them many times, but lost just as many.

“I was not the guild leader, but a guild officer. The leader was Korhan, an elementalist. She was the one to form the guild over two years before. She chose seven of us—there were at least a hundred of us in all—to join her in representing the guild in the match. Guel was one. I was one. She asked for ideas on strategy, on builds and skill combos that we might use in the final match. It’s a complicated thing, of course, to construct a team’s entire skill set. We vetted for days over it, creating strategies and discarding them.

“In the end, it came down to two different strategies. They don’t really matter, anymore. But the party was split pretty much down the middle on which we should use. Korhan was a proponent of one, and I of another. I could not fathom going in to the match with the ‘tried and true’ builds Korhan advocated. I had already been trying for many matches to change our strategy to better combat the Mad Hatz’s—they did virtually the same thing every time, and if we just made a few tweaks, we could beat them with ease.

“Many of us suggested that we simply hold a vote, and let the majority decide. Others thought the eight who would be in the match should vote. Korhan rejected both ideas—I’m sure because she feared losing. In the end—two weeks before the match—she simply said, ‘I’m the guild leader. I have the final say.’ And, of course, she chose her way. At that point, ten strong guild members left, starting their own guild and promising that next season they would be the ones on top. I was tempted to join them, but could not bring myself to leave on the eve of a championship match.

“Their departure started a hemorrhage of guild-mates. Another four left to join another guild. Then another eight to start their own. Each new day brought more departures, until a few days before the match the guild was half the size it had been. A few had even joined the Mad Hatz.

“The match was quite a matter of pride with me. I had several friends in that other guild, and there was no way I was going to let them win again; I would never hear the end of it. There was always so much trash talking. After Korhan’s decision, I dreaded it, knowing that they would probably defeat us without much effort. The day before the match, I met with my friends from the other guild—the rivalry was mostly amiable. We were drinking and having a great time riling each other up. A lot of fun, really, but I never once mentioned what our strategy was going to be. In retrospect, perhaps it was foolish to fraternize with them so soon before a match. But they were good friends—they had been for a long time.

“That night, Korhan confronted me. She indicated that one guild mate, Jethrun, had told her that I had shared our strategy with my friends. Nothing could be further from the truth. If anyone told them of our strategy, it was probably the several people who defected to the other guild. But not me. I would never betray the guild like that. She told me that I was using those former guild-mates as scapegoats. We argued in front of the others. I told him the guild would be better off without her. She said that if we lost the match, she knew who to blame. It came pretty close to blows, but Guel and a few other officers stepped in. They suggested that either she or I step down from the match, as clearly we would not be able to work together. We both refused, and Guel encouraged Korhan to remove me from the team, indicating that I couldn’t be trusted to follow orders. I swore that I would follow Korhan’s orders to the letter, and would do exactly as she told me to. She refused Guel’s suggestion and kept me on. I am sure she wanted someone to blame in case we lost.

“The other officers begged Korhan to change the strategy. But, again, she said that as guild leader, it was her choice. She invited them to leave the guild if they wanted.

“And, surprise! We lost. Badly. We didn’t win once, and the match was painfully short. It certainly seemed like they had known beforehand what our strategy was. All of us followed Korhan’s commands with exactness, even in the final battles, when we had already lost every time.

“I returned immediately to the guild hall. I didn’t even wait for the ceremony, for us to receive our second place prize; I could not bear to hear the crowd’s cheers for the other team and to meet my friends’ gloating eyes. It is in fun, certainly, but I simply cannot bear their good-natured goading once I lose.

“Korhan either followed me to the guild hall or got there before me. It doesn’t matter. She attacked first, without warning. She swore she would kill me, and so I defended myself. I killed her, and stood there over her when the others arrived. They were visibly downhearted when they came through the gate, and became very angry with me when they saw what I had done. It only took one person’s accusing me of betraying our guild—now that I think about it, it was Jethrun—and the rest of the crowd jumped on the Charr fire altar. They blamed me for the loss, and claimed that I had murdered Korhan with the goal of becoming the guild leader. I quickly saw that I had no choice to but to run.”

“Some of your details conflict with Guel’s story,” Wez said. “Or Korhan’s anyway.”

“Korhan’s?”

“They resurrected her,” Bruck said. “She claimed that she had approached you at the guild hall to reconcile, to admit her fault, and that you initiated the attack. She did not want to fight, and you killed her when her back was turned. She also says that some folks from the other guild indicated that you were a traitor. Your guild interpreted that as you telling the Mad Hatz the strategy for the match.”

“I did not do that.”

“I am just relaying what Guel said. He certainly believes it, himself. In his eyes—in your guild’s eyes—you are worthy of death because you betrayed the guild, and murdered Korhan. In fact, Korhan gave the guild a one-year hiatus, asking guild members to find and kill you. As far as Guel knew, most of the guild members are out looking for you.”

“Then it is Korhan—she is the one that has everyone convinced. Guel is just loyal to her and the guild, and blind to the truth.”

“I don’t really know who to believe,” Kandra said. “I have more reason to believe you over Guel—that is certain.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Bruck said with a shrug. “What would we or could we do? It doesn’t concern us, and it really boils down to your word versus hers. It’s a situation in which no one can win. Not you. Not her. Not us. If either of you could offer evidence beyond your own words, it would sure be helpful. But we have no reason to turn you over to Guel, or to disbelieve you. Besides—you’re our party member. In most things, you have proven yourself. We are loyal to you, as long as you are loyal to us.”

And with that, it appeared that my party members forgot about my past. What a relief. Now, if only I could forget, too.

Princess Blades · Jan 03, 2007, 01:36 PM // 13:36

Yay! We got to find out what happened in his other guild. Great story and writing. Eagerly awaiting the next installment.

broodijzer · Jan 04, 2007, 01:51 PM // 13:51

Quote:

Originally Posted by Princess Blades

Yay! We got to find out what happened in his other guild. Great story and writing. Eagerly awaiting the next installment.

nothing to add. Keep up the awesome work!

Blu · Jan 04, 2007, 05:42 PM // 17:42

Wow, nice story, very interesting.

HezekiahKurtz · Jan 05, 2007, 04:55 AM // 04:55

You could probably say that Part II begins with this entry.

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Colossus 60, 1275 DR

The short voyage to Kourna has been largely uneventful, yet enjoyable. There is something about the open sea that refreshes me, clears my mind, calms my nerves. We have spent the time caching up on sleep and playing simple card and piece games with the other passengers. One, an old man name Shenan, wins Gambit of Fates almost every time. It essentially became a contest for second place. I think Shenan may cheat.

There is, perhaps, one thing worth noting. It is nothing that has happened, but something I have thought—there is a lot of time to think on a ship. It is this: if Bruck is serving a … being of questionable intents from another realm, and I am in his party helping him, am I also serving that being? I am all in favor of partying with Bruck and the others. But is his end-quest an endeavor I want to help him on? Am I willing to help Bruck find the Signet? I cannot imagine that his master will do anything good with it. Do I want to help that process?

Of course, Bruck has been searching for years. What is the possibility that we will find it now? It is low, I imagine.

Things got interesting once we arrived at Gandara yesterday. The city towers over the ocean, with level upon level of domed building glittering in the morning sunlight. It makes Kamadan seem small and insignificant. If Kamadan is a Jewel, then surely Gandara is a mountain with many jewels waiting to be mined from its depths. It almost seems like a single structure carved out of the same stone mountain; most buildings are the same brownish gold color. I would very much like to see what that place holds, what gems its stone streets and ancient staircases, high windows and reaching spires hide.

We dropped anchor about a thousand feet out from land, to join the outer-rim of a cluster of no fewer than one hundred other vessels of all shapes and sizes, which had anchored around the harbor; quite simply, none of us could get to the dock. We learned from crews of nearby ships that the dock was full. City officials, it seems, locked up the city about a week ago and are prohibiting anyone from entering. While the captains of many ships have sailed on, seeking other harbors, the captains of the ships still there have decided to wait it out, although no timeline has been established for when the gates will re-open.

Why the city has been closed is a mystery. Rumors run the gamut. Some say a disease has broken out in the city. Others think the king has been assassinated—or at least an attempt on his life has been made. A majority of sailors believe that just too many people want to gain entrance—which certainly seems most likely to me. The docks teem with travelers who have set up camp the stone docks; a sea of tents covers all available space. Although we did not see it, apparently thousands more people camp in the land around the city, awaiting entrance. Word is that the last few weeks have seen an unprecedented and unexplained surge in people entering Gandara.

As the captain of our ship stood on our deck, conversing with the captain of a nearby ship, the other captain told him, “There’s nothing to do but wait it out. My entire crew and I want to get into that city.” The way his eyes shifted and how he held his body—tense and defensive—made me distrust him.

“Why is that?” our captain asked him. “Why do you have to get into the city?”

“Does a man have to have a reason?” He seemed irritated, as if perhaps he, himself, did not know the answer to the question and was tired of trying to explain it to others.

Two or three of our fellow passengers left with the other captain, deciding to join him and wait for the re-opening of the city. Our captain would have nothing to do with it, and we set sail toward the North; he knew of a suitable beach a few miles up where he unloaded his passengers and shipments. We came ashore as dusk fell. Most of the passengers joined us in walking to a small town named Yohlon Haven, several miles inland, where we are spending the night tonight. Unfortunately, the fact that Gandara is locked up means that many refugees have found their way here. The best we can do is find a spot of ground next the city wall, and hope for better in the morning.

HezekiahKurtz · Jan 10, 2007, 06:11 AM // 06:11

Colossus 61, 1275 DR

I awoke this morning to a naked, squatting bum in my face. Well, not precisely in my face—the pimply white flesh was ten feet away. But its status as the first thing I saw upon opening my eyes certainly left an impression on me. It amazes me the lack of inhibitions some people have about relieving themselves wherever they want. I know the village was crowded. And I know there was a shortage of places to go—but against the city wall? Out in the open? At least leave the city and dig a hole. Honestly. Some people.

I quickly turned away from the cheeks and found that everyone else was already up. Wez and Kandra sat next to each other, with their backs against the city wall. By city wall I mean tall, sheer stones. I did not realize it last night in the dark, but the town is circled by a natural, protecting ring of cliffs, some of which the townsfolk build their homes against in a cluster of blocky, stacking structures. Bruck’s blankets were gone. I rolled to my knees and grinned at my party members. “You two should try sleeping in a little. It’s refreshing.”

“I slept in today,” Wez said. “There’s still five minutes until the sun comes up, and I’ve only been up for an hour. Besides, you’ll learn that the older you get, the harder it is to sleep in the morning.”

I shook my head. “Poor, poor old man. And you!” I raised my eyebrows at Kandra. “I’m surprised you don’t need more sleep. I thought the more beautiful someone was, the more sleep they required. Something about ‘beauty rest.’”

I am not sure if she suppressed a smile or frowned at the comment. But she did blush. It’s really amazing: no matter how messy her hair is, and how tired or blood-spattered her face, she is simply stunning to look at. Her response made me laugh: “Then it’s quite a surprise you don’t look much more beautiful than you do.”

It only took a moment to roll up my blanket and then—after a quick check for signs of refuse—settle in close to Kandra for a hearty breakfast of drake jerky and smashed bread. “And Bruck?” I asked before taking my first bite.

“Trying to find some supplies,” Wez said.

We sat there chatting idly, watching the people rise and start their days, or pass by on some early, urgent task. Very few still lay asleep along the edges of the pathways. Most were gathering their things or looking ready to leave. Generally, they were a dirty and disheveled rabble consisting mostly of hairy, unshaven men. But there was also a considerable number of women, and many folks dressed in finer clothes and hats, or possessed much fancier equipment or blankets. Some individuals in the crowd talked to no one. Others mingled in groups. I identified three complete families, with lively, laughing children and affectionate wives and husbands. It made me smile and miss home. I think it has been somewhere between five and six years since I left. I hope life after the searing has been bearable for them—if they made it through at all.

By the time the sun rose, I had seen no fewer than eight people tending to bodily functions right out in the open.

“Just think,” I said, “of the sanitation issues this town is going to have in a week if this crowd doesn’t go away.”

“Just think of the diseases,” Kandra said.

“Whatever you do—don’t drink the water downstream,” Wez said.

A shadow fell over me and I looked up to see Shenan standing above me. As he’d done on the voyage over from Istan, he wore tight red pants and a bright green vest over a ruffled blue shirt. For an old man—he was at least twenty years Wez’s senior—he stood surprisingly straight, even despite what must have been a very weighty gray beard; it looked thicker than Kandra’s hair, with twice the curls, and reached his belt. Aside from some very out-of-control eyebrows, the beard was the only hair he had. His bald head shone in the morning sunlight.

“Come to cheat us out of some gold?” Wez asked him.

“Cheat?” His normally deep and raspy voice rose as it took mock offense to the accusation. “It’s not my fault that none of you understand strategy. Where are you all headed to this morning?”

“Out there,” Wez said. He waved vaguely to the North.

“Ah, excellent! Then we shall travel together.”

I tried not to smile when Kandra’s eyes met mine. They sparkled with amusement, and said the same thing I was thinking. Shenan was entertaining enough to play games with, but what good would he be in our party? Even more importantly, Prince Rurick would mate with a Char before Bruck would let the old man join the group. But none of us said anything as he started to ramble on about the surrounding areas and how he’d passed through them many times. After a minute he sat down next to me; I am pretty sure it took him a full thirty seconds to sit, and I know I heard several joints pop. He sat uncomfortably close, so I scooted tighter against Kandra.

When Bruck arrived he gave Shenan a quick, dismissive glance, and then announced, “There are no supplies to be had in the entire town.”

We stood, knowing he would be ready to leave. Shenan started to rise with us.

“You flaunted with abandon that huge bag of gold of yours, right?” I asked.

“Naturally. The refugees have already consumed everything there is.”

“Refugees?” Shenan said, finally straightening. He was taller than all of us. “Is that what they’re being called, now?”

“We may as well leave immediately,” Bruck said. “We can hunt and gather as we travel. There is enough wildlife in the surrounding areas that we should be fine. It will just mean we move more slowly until we’re stocked.”

“That’s a fine idea,” Shenan said, smiling.

Bruck could no longer ignore him, and turned to face him. The old man stood a full head taller. “And what business is it of yours?”

“I’m coming with you.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Let’s get going. Aren’t you ready to leave?”

“We are. You are not.”

“I’m ready to leave. Let’s go.”

“And why would we let you join us?”

Shenan paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes. His voice grew serious and his words slow. “A party of four won’t last long out in that area.”

“And a party of four plus one fool will last less time.”

“Stop talking about Hezy that way. You’ll hurt his feelings.”

Bruck pursed his lips into a frown.

“You can’t stop me from coming.”

“You have no skills.”

“I have many skills. I have been collecting them since before you were born.”

“What is your profession?”

“What would you like it to be?”

The monk sighed, and then turned his head to look at us. I smiled, glad to not be the party leader. Rolling his eyes, Bruck turned back to Shenan. “Very well. But don’t be surprised if I boot you at the first time you screw up.”

“I would be disappointed if you didn’t.”

We moved slowly up the coast. While many mobs offered very little resistance, quite a few made us sweat and retreat several times—especially the few corsairs and the Frigid Kuskale. Generally, I found the combat very routine; most encounters did not vary much from others. We quickly adapted our system for pulling and retreating, and from then on it became much easier.

Shenan did not affect the dynamic of the party as much as I had hoped he might. He did so little that it took me at least an hour to figure out that he was an elementalist. By noon I made a point of watching him to see if he actually used any skills or did anything during a fight. He stayed back and away from each encounter—even further than Bruck. Eventually I realized that that during the easier encounters, he did, in fact, do nothing. Just watched, holding his staff ready, available to help if he thought we needed him. Against tougher mobs he would cast an occasional fire storm, meteor, or Rogdort’s flame—always timed and placed perfectly. It seemed that he only wanted to participate the minimum amount required to help us survive. I kept waiting for Bruck to say something, but he never did.

We actually found nothing to hunt during the day, which Bruck expressed surprise at. “Every other time I have been here, there has been plenty of game,” he said.

“Times have changed,” Shenan said, looking up a hill toward a fortress we did not go near today. “Things aren’t like they used to be.”

We arrived at a small fishing town named Nundu Bay after dark, in a light rain. This place, too, teems with travelers—which is apparently very uncharacteristic for this town—although it is not nearly as crowded as Gandara or Yohlon. It surprises me how the architecture is identical to that in Istan; based on what I had seen of Gandara, I had expected something much different than the familiar buildings on stilts, and the towers with the painted bug at the top. The smell is the same as any number of Istani towns, although I reckon that is simply due to its position on the shore.

“Thank you for the companionship today,” Shenan said. He slapped Wez on the back and smiled. “I appreciate it. If I do not find you in the morning, please proceed without me.” He turned and walked away, disappearing into a crowd. We looked at each other with wide eyes and shrugging shoulders.

At a very high price Bruck obtained a room for us to stay the night in. Bruck and Wez each get a bed. Kandra gets the chair. I get the floor—I’m the youngest and spryest, after all.

HezekiahKurtz · Jan 12, 2007, 04:04 AM // 04:04

Hey take a look at this! Woo hoo! My site made the list of Guild Wars Fansites. http://www.guildwars.com/community/fansites/

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Colossus 62, 1275 DR

We left the city sans Shenan, and headed through the rain up the hill toward the fortress. A foreboding shadow hung over the stone walls—something deeper than just the looming black clouds. We slowed as we approached, and without words to each other stopped a few hundred yards out from the Northern entrance.

“Anyone else feel that?” I asked.

“I’m not going in there,” Kandra said.

“It wasn’t like this last time,” Bruck said. “I went in without any problems. This is new since last time.”

We heard a voice from behind us, and looked back to see a figure struggling up the slope. In the rain and at the distance, we couldn’t tell who it was, so we readied ourselves for anything. But it was only Shenan. As he almost reached us, he slipped and fell flat on his back. Bruck rushed forward, and bent to help him first. Shenan swore for a full minute as he tried to clean the mud off of himself.

Eventually, he said, “You’re not planning on going in there, are you? Into that fortress?”

“We had not decided,” Wez said. “What took you so long?”

“I slept in,” he said.

I gave Wez a sly grin. “Ah, you see—not all old people are up at the crack of dawn.”

Wez rolled his eyes.

“Why can’t we go in?” Kandra aksed.

Shenan just shook his head. “I just wouldn’t go in there.”

“Have you been in there before?” Wez asked.

“There is a little village further Northeast. It’s a lovely little place. Very Kournan. We should go there.”

Bruck nodded. “Let’s circle around to the North, along the perimeter of the area.”

We did so, taking each mob as they came. We passed a tall, slanted rock that pointed at a low angle into the air. From the distance, I thought I saw lions prowling in the morning shadows. Around noon the rain stopped, replaced by a warm breeze that pushed at our backs. It smelled clean and fresh, and blew the clouds away in just a few hours. But through it all, the darkness remained in our hearts, and we glanced often at the fortress walls in the distance.

Quite strangely, today Shenan did not use a single elementalist skill—only ritualst ones. That must be his secondary profession. But I forgot to ask him about it.

We saw the village first from a distance—like a cluster of striped spikes rising abruptly out of the ground, colored the same brown hue as the ground and surrounding rocks. The structures, it turned out, are made out of canvas, and are a peculiar kind of tent called a teepee. I find them strangely primitive, earthly. Red, white, brown and geometrically-decorated horizontal stripes line the teepees, which are supported by complex systems of wooden poles. The citizens of this small town have not organized their buildings in any set manner—they are simply clustered inside the city walls, which feel more permanent than the tents.

In the evening, not thirty minutes ago, we sat in the center of the teepees—that is a rather fun word—under the stars, around a bonfire; the villagers are friendly and freely shared their food with us. We laughed and talked, and they asked me many questions about Ascalon, and answered many about Gandara.

“Tell me,” I said to an older man, “why there are no refugees in your village? Gandara, Yohlon Haven, and Nundu Bay are full of them.”

The old man grew solemn, and gave me a long, quiet look. The white beard on his dark face stood out in the flickering firelight. His eyes glistened. “Those people were not welcome here—there is no space here for the damned.”

When I pressed him for further explanation he changed the subject, and asked about the Great Northern Wall.

HezekiahKurtz · Jan 17, 2007, 04:58 AM // 04:58

Colossus 63, 1275 DR

After we had thanked the villagers for their hospitality, and stood at the city gate ready to depart, a slender, dark Kournan dervish approached us. The look in her eyes was solid. A certain resolve turned the sharp features of her face to stone. She seemed unusually hardened for looking so young; she might be twenty. She looked me straight in the eyes as she stopped in front of the group and said, “I would like to join your party.”

I didn’t know what to say. I am still surprised she made the request to me, with Bruck standing right there. With wide eyes I looked back at the monk, my mouth hanging slightly open.

He stepped forward. “And why would you want to do that?”

“I need to help my brother, and I can’t do it here in this little village.”

“I don’t know that we can help you. We’re simply traveling through the land for the sake of traveling.”

She frowned. “I’m not asking you to go anywhere in particular. I just want to go with you, and look for help for my brother along the way.”

“Your brother?” Shenan said. “What has happened to him?”

“He left,” she said. Sadness painted her eyes. “Probably gone to Gandara. It happened suddenly about four months ago—about the same time the fortress was re-inhabited.

“When did that happen?” Bruck asked. “Last time I was by here there was no one in it.”

“Yes, no one has lived there for many years. It had been vacant since a disease wiped its family and servants. No one wanted to go back, so it just stayed there, gathering dust and wild animals. And then about six months ago we started seeing movement. Shadows in the day, flickering lights in the night. And that . . . feeling. No one dares go there—everyone travels wide around it.”

“No one has thought to investigate?” Wez asked. “Six months and you folks haven’t figured out what’s going on?”

“Oh, troops were sent in. But they came back and said that nothing was there, that we should simply not worry about it. I’m sure not going to go in alone. Would you?” She gave Wez a sharp, accusing look. He shook his head hurriedly.

“And how does this affect your brother?” Bruck asked.

“As I said, it was about the time the place was re-inhabited that he just started acting like a lunatic, saying there were people after him. Said he heard things and saw shadows. It was like he had smoked some bad manga-manga weed, and the effect wouldn’t let up. Not long later, people started passing through the town, heading toward Gandara. Just one or two here and there—a few each week—and many seemed perfectly fine. We have always had people passing through, on their way to the city. But they always had reasons, had a purpose for going there. But these new people didn’t. They just went, said they just wanted to or felt like they should.”

“Just like those sailors,” I said. “They just wanted to get to the city.”

“Nothing slips by you, does it Hez?” Wez said.

I shook my head. “Nope. Nothing.”

The woman shrugged. “That’s how everyone is. They just want to get there. Most of them seem like fine people, but a lot of them were just . . . off. You could tell just by looking at them that you shouldn’t trust them. And my brother would listen to them, talk about going with them. Finally, one day, he was just gone. I need to find a way to redeem him.”

“So why do you want to come with us?” Bruck asked. “We’re not going to Gandara.”

“The answer is not in Gandara. My brother may be there, but he is not what I need. I need a way to redeem him.” She motioned to the East. “The only place to look is out that way.”

“Why wouldn’t it be in the fortress?” Wez asked. “If you think they are connected, why not check there?”

“I can’t get people to go with me. I would if I could. I have no choice but to search elsewhere for answers.” Her eyes brightened, and her tone changed to optimistic. “Unless you want to go into the fortress with me?”

“No!” Shenan said. “We will not.”

Bruck gave him a sharp look. I knew he was thinking, “This is my party! I make the decisions!” What he said was: “We have decided to stay away for now.”

Kandra said, “Which makes no sense to me, by the way. Why not go in there, after what we’ve been through? I don’t think it feels any where near as foreboding as that that swamp you took us into.” She raised her eyebrows at Bruck. “You need to look everywhere, anyway, don’t you? You need to go in there. To look?”

I had to suppress a smile; for her, those few sentences were practically a monolog. I can’t remember the last time I heard her say so many words in one breath.

Bruck nodded. “I do, eventually.” He gave Shenan a glance, and then looked back at Kandra. “But not yet. I think that—as you say—after what we have been through, I am not so anxious to go into places that feel like that.”

I can certainly relate to that, and nodded my agreement.

“So I can come with you?” the woman asked. She tapped the end of her scythe against the ground, and gave us a steely, menacing look. “You will find me competent at reaping.”

“We may as well let her,” I said. Others nodded.

Bruck said, “You certainly seem better than some of the rabble we have partied with. What is your name?”

“Guani.”

“Welcome to the party,” he said, and held out his hand.

We all took a moment to greet her, and then Bruck led off with Wez and Kandra right behind. Shenan stepped close to Guani. I think I heard him whisper, “I am sorry for your loss.”

“I hope he is not lost,” she replied. “Melandru willing, I will reclaim him.”

I am glad we she has joined us. She has no fear in engaging enemies—just rushes in, even to those that stand three times her height or those that surround her in rapid, deadly mobs. In fact, I think she prefers being surrounded so that she can deal damage to multiple enemies at a time. She spins and swings that scythe so fast I can hardly keep an eye on it, and she always maintains an eerie, disconcerting smile as she severs limbs and slices open bellies. Early on, I knew she had a special fire in her bones after she took down the last tusked howler in a mob. After the creature fell and lay still, she stood over its many-limbed corpse it for a moment, shouting obscenities at a volume surprising for her size; the creature had left her with a nasty wound on her forehead, which bleed in rivers down her face. As Bruck healed her, she kicked the howler in the head twice, and then and spit on it.

I am not sure how Kandra likes her. It may be my imagination, but I think a little competition has arisen between the two. Kandra is much more aggressive than before—she rushes in faster, takes less time in moving on to the next enemy. It’s as if she wants to prove that she can deal the more damage, absorb more hits, or draw more enemy agro. Of course, it is no contest on who can talk the most. It seems like Guani’s chatter never stops. She taunts our foes, cries out with every swing of her blade, and curses with every hit she takes.

We actually didn’t go far, today—just a little to the Northeast over rolling hills until we reached a modest farming village. We did encounter seven or eight types of monsters that I have never seen—the stone shard crags and cracked mesa were especially impressive with their scaled, slow, lumbering motions—and quite a few over-zealous Kournan. A windmill stands in the center of the town, creaking as the blades turn and the gears grind. Now, in the dark, it is louder than the wind and the nighttime insects.

noir0 · Jan 17, 2007, 09:42 PM // 21:42

Gah, i was missing my weekly fix of your story, it's getting better and better ^^.

HezekiahKurtz · Jan 19, 2007, 05:17 AM // 05:17

Glad to hear you are enjoying it. Unfortunately, I am not able to post at all next week. Big stuff going on. Of course, the entry after the one below is available on my site. I think I previously linked to it.

Anyway, I hope to have something pretty cool for February 30th. Plenty of time to think about it and work on it, that's for sure.
__________________________________________________ _______________

Colossus 64, 1275 DR

Although I did not know it, last night a group of Kournan peasants approached a few of our other party members and asked for some help. They told a story of being pushed out of their stronghold home to the southeast by an aggressive, malicious group of refugees with an unhealthy stink and a definite sense of dread about them. Bruck introduced us to the peasants—a haggard and dirty lot of about fifteen—as we ate a breakfast of hard-boiled eggs and bacon.

“We’re going to go help them,” the monk said. He held his usual map out, studying it closely. He’d been marking it unceasingly since I’d met him; it is such a part of him that it has almost become invisible. Indicating that Bruck has his map is like indicating he’s a monk; if you know him, you already know it. “We’ve got to go there, anyway. It’s on our way to Poghan Passage, which may as well be our next stop. This is Chircuck. He’s the leader of the group, and will show us the way. He knows the territory.”

Chircuck is a monk. It’s a good thing he was with us today; Bruck, alone wouldn’t have been able to keep us all healed up throughout the day. And when I say “us all” I mean me, Wez, Kandra, Shenan, and Guani. It was enough work for the two of them to keep the five of us alive—forget about the peasants. Most of the them were relatively useless in a fight. I guess they were good for absorbing a hit or two before dying, which allowed the real fighters in the group to get in a little extra damage before becoming the focus of the enemies. That’s how it went: engage; peasants die; kill enemies; resurrect peasants; rinse; repeat. Ah well, thank Dwayna for good monks.

We traveled along the eastern edge of Arkjok Ward, basically down a chain of islands connected by bridges. A mob of refugees held each bridge.

“Why are you here?” a man shouted from the opposite end of the first bridge.

“We’re coming to take back our home!” Chircuck shouted. “To slit open your bellies and take back the food you have stolen from us!”

“I had thought we might try negotiations,” Bruck said. “A little more subtlety might help.”

“There is no negotiating with them,” Chircuck said. “They are criminals, murderers, and thieves.”

Without warning, they fired a volley of arrows at us. The mob of peasants burst forward—so quickly I think it must have been a reflexive reaction—raising their weapons as they cried out in rage.

“Next mob,” Bruck said to Chircuck, “we try it our way.”

These refugees were not like the rest we’ve encountered. Most of the others, aside from being slightly disheveled and a little unpleasant, seemed like normal people. These ones had a crazy, unthinking look in their eyes, and fought with religious abandon—as if they feared nothing because they felt their cause was just. Whatever that cause was, I don’t know, but they struck harder and yelled louder than our own people, and took more spears than I thought possible before lying down.

After we had cleared the first bridge, and taken a little time to resurrect peasants, Bruck suggested that the peasants stay behind a little ways as his group approached the next bridge and try to negotiate. They reluctantly agreed. Not half-way across the bridge, the refugees ordered us to stop. We did so.

“We just want to get across,” Bruck called. “We’re traveling to Poghan Passage.”

They consulted with one another for a moment, and the next thing we know, an elementalist was casting rain of fire on us. The fireballs hissed in the water around us as we retreated. The peasants met us eagerly, muttering their we-told-you-so’s and that-was-a-surprise’s. We returned in full force, and took them down. By the time we reached the fifth island, Bruck had given up on trying to negotiate. Each struggle was harder than the last. Not simply because the enemies became stronger, but because they became more numerous. I think by the time we cleared the last island, the mobs were twenty-five or thirty strong. Even Shenan had to get into the action on a regular basis.

We approached the stronghold late in the day. From a safe distance we saw that the doors were shut, and the walls lined with a horde of refugees. The sun hung just above the western horizon, its pale yellow light lighting the wills with a brilliant silver glow.

“We should wait,” I suggested. “Get them in the morning. I’m not much for storming castles in the dark.”

Chircuck agreed. “That will give us an opportunity to create a more detailed plan.”

We retreated back a few islands, to a small blockish building with a tower. We set up guards at the bridge, and gathered around to make our plans. They seem pretty reasonable to me; tomorrow will see how well they work. Afterwards we sat huddled together in the building, generally protected from a sudden rain; the roof leaked and the glassless windows let in a surprising amount of water. At least the bonfire in the center of the room provided warmth and light.

I sat with Guani, Wez, and Kandra—Shenan sat a little off to the side, against a wall, not really a part of our conversation—and had a generally pleasant time just talking with them. I wish I could write what I have learned about Wez and Kandra and their childhoods. It’s just too hard—so little time to even write my own story. Eventually the topic turned to the battles of the day; we laughed quietly at the ineptitude of the peasants, and the general lack of skill displayed by the refugees. Zealous and numerous they were; brilliant fighters they were not.

“They are damned foolish,” Guani said.

It reminded me of what the old man had said in her village a few nights before, about there not being room for the damned there. I asked her if she knew what that meant.

“You must have been talking with Zeerl. He’s not actually a native of my village. He came only a few months ago from Gandara, said he left when things started getting hairy. Adopted my town as his own.”

“What did he mean by damned?” I asked again.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“But that does not make it untrue,” Shenan said. He had not spoken until now.

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Sure thing, old man. But his saying and believing it doesn’t make it true, either.”

“Would you fill us in?” Wez asked. “Please?”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “He says that these refugees—all of these people trying to get to Gandara—are cursed. He says they obey demons from an unseen world.”

Wez, Kandra, and I gave each other telling looks. Kandra said. “Like, from another realm?”

Guani shrugged as Shenan said, “Quite possibly.”

“And that makes them damned?” I asked.

The two of them nodded.

“But none of them would tell you that,” Guani objected. “Even the worst ones—even the ones we killed today, I bet, would not tell you that they obey an unseen being from another realm. It’s silly. I think my brother has become one of them. He may have been crazy, but he was not evil.”

Shenan stood suddenly—it startled me, made me wonder if he had become aware of a sudden ambush. I half arose, reaching for my spear as I looked toward the room’s entrance for invading enemies. There were none. The voices of every person in the building had fallen silent, their last echoing words consumed by the crackling and whipping of the fire, the dripping of water. All eyes had centered on Shenan. The solemnity of his voice drew my gaze back. “Evil is not exhibited only in actions.” Seriousness painted his old, wrinkled face as he looked at each of us in turn. Firelight cast long and eerie shadows on his beard. “It is not given to us to know the hearts of those around us—for many may think evil and resist its doing, but they are still rotten in the core.” He continued looking at us for several moments, and then sat back down.

Gradually, the conversations started again, and soon the room was alive with falsely cheerful conversation. My group, however, remained silent for several minutes. I finally broke the silence.

“What do you know about beings from other realms?” I asked Shenan.

He shook his head and frowned. “Not nearly enough. Only that they exist in legends and fairy tales.” He looked at Guani. “And in the stories of lunatics.”

“And you think they are behind this?” I asked. “Behind the refugees?”

“I am looking for answers. If I had them, I would not be here.”

I could not get him or Guani to say anything more on the topic the rest of the night.

Tact · Jan 21, 2007, 06:31 PM // 18:31

You've got yourself a new fan! ^^

Great read, keep up the good work!

noir0 · Jan 21, 2007, 07:52 PM // 19:52

You mentioned that your site was put on the main gw site but you didn't actually say what the sites name/adress was... *cries* must.. read.. more...

Unreal Cyn · Jan 22, 2007, 02:47 AM // 02:47

I agree with Tact - this is great stuff Hezekiah! Keep it coming!

HezekiahKurtz · Jan 31, 2007, 04:55 AM // 04:55

Thanks for your patience during last week's outage. I hope you will enjoy this entry. Also, there is one newer entry on the web site. Here is the address: http://www.gwcartographer.com.

__________________________________________________ ______________

Colossus 67, 1275 DR

I finally have had a chance to settle down and do some recording of events. The last two days have been non-stop struggles, with only an hour or two of sleep last night, and the previous night’s sleep being cut short by screams from the nearest bridge. I awoke to the noise as our hideout erupted in action. In a flurry of confusion I rose from my damp spot on the floor—apparently wind and rain had combined with a nearby window to get me a little wet during the night—to a scene of peasants scurrying every direction. In the dim, pre-dawn light, I could not see much of what was going on.

“They’re coming!” someone cried.

Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I saw the shape of a man at a window, pointing out to the South. I turned in quick circles, looking for my party members. Forms moved everywhere, in every direction, crying out and grunting or groaning as they smashed into each other; the room was no where near big enough for so many people to be moving so quickly and unconcertedly. I know there were fifteen of them, max, but it sure seemed like more than that. More than a few tripped into the ground; one slammed into my shoulders and another jostled me. I struggled to stay afoot. In the grayness, I saw none of my group. I clutched my spear and shield, glad I had the habit of sleeping with them in my hands.

“Everybody run!” Bruck shouted. “Out the back doors! Save nothing!”

As one, the mass of bodies turned in the same direction, to my rear. I joined them, trying not to push and shove. A figure fell before me with a thud and abrupt squeal; the tide pushing at my back would not let me stop to help him up even if I wanted to—I could only hurdle him. By the time I emerged from the building, with peasants fleeing out to the North ahead of me, I was fully awake and ready for anything.

“Hezekiah!”

I turned to my right, to see most of my party about a hundred feet away, halfway up a small hill. They motioned for me to join them. I darted forward as the last of the Kournan peasants pushed by me. Lights caught my attention. Dozens of them, bouncing up and down toward the South, past the building and in the direction of the bridge. All around them, naked blades shone like slender flames. Orange light danced on the countless intense faces. An angry rumble of voices rose from mass.

On my way up the hill I slipped in the mud twice, catching myself both times before landing face down. By the time I reached the group, Bruck was there, too.

“We’ve got to stall them,” he said. “So the rest of them can get away.”

“No way,” Guani said. “There must be fifty of them.”

“We can’t sacrifice our lives for them,” Wez said.

“There is a way,” Shenan said. I had never heard a voice as serious as his was in that moment. “But the rest of you must trust me.”

“What is your plan?” Bruck asked.

“Just stand in front of me. When they fall, and once the Eruption is over, you move in to finish off the ones that survive.”

Not one of us moved. We just stood there. I wondered what he had planned. I still am not sure what happened.

“Do it!” he shouted; I jumped in surprise, but did not otherwise move. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was waiting for Bruck to make the decision. That bothers me, somehow, that I couldn’t act without his order.

“Don’t fail us, old man,” Bruck said.

“Don’t worry. I have my resurrection signet.”

Bruck grunted move to a position ahead of us, facing the south. The rest of us lined up next to him. I stood between Guani and Kandra. I sensed the warrior’s nervousness, and looked over to see her biting her lower lip. She stood ready, with her sword and shield held up before her. I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I’m scared out of my wits.” It was true, and I hoped it would ease her tension.

She looked up at me—her mouth and eyes wide in surprise for a moment. Then she smiled. “Wussy.”

By then the first of the horde had reached our hideout, and discovered that it was empty. Their shouts come louder, and for several seconds they gathered around the structure, as if not knowing what to do. I realized that in the dimness they had not seen the six of us up on the hill.

“Don’t look back here,” Shenan said. “Everything depends on it.”

It was hard not to disobey him, especially when the sound of deep, resonating chimes rang through the air from his location. Warmth sprayed against my back. Beams of brilliant white light shot out between the rest of us, glimmering and blinding. The light illuminated the hill below us, shone in the faces of the mob below. They shielded their eyes for a moment, until the light blinked out.

“What the hell was that?” Guani hissed.

“No idea,” Wez said. “But this is it.” He shot an arrow; I could not tell where it hit. I am sure it pinned whatever it was meant to pin.

The mob surged forward, up the hill.

From behind me an eerie, echoing roar built for three seconds—initially inaudible, but soon deafening. The ground rumbled and shook as the sound grew, and once the noise cut abruptly off, the shaking rolled from behind us to under us. I stumbled a few steps forward, but managed to keep my feet. Almost faster than the eye could track, the ground rolled like a wave of earth until it reached the damned. It flung them a good thirty feet into the air like ghostly, unnatural specters in the growing light. Awestruck, I watched as they seemed to float there, in mid air, arms and legs flailing. Torches flipped out of hands, into nearby faces or torsos. Blades—some loose, some still gripped—inadvertently pierced flesh. The hang time must have bordered on three seconds. The damned cried out and as they crashed back into the ground and onto each other.

The hill had reassumed its usual, solid state and shape.

Immediately after, the ground around the damned burst upward with an enormous BOOM! Dirt—accompanied by bodies—sprayed into the air, like a fountain of dirty, cluttered brown water. Air from the explosion struck me like a moving wall, and threw me onto my back. Guani landed on top of me. She scrambled off—or perhaps I pushed her off—and I jumped back onto my feet just in time to see the last of the dirt landing back on the ground. Bodies lay scattered everywhere down the hill, probably covering a two hundred square foot area; one rolled limply off of the roof of the building.

Stunned, I turned back to look at Shenan. He lay still on his back, his arms wide, his staff in his right hand. His eyes were closed. I took an urgent step toward him, but Bruck’s hand grabbed my arm.

“No time to help him,” the monk said. “Down the hill! Finish off as many as you can. Before they recover! GO!”

I turned, and bolted down the hill, looking back only once at the elementalist. As I threw my first spear into the heart of a slowly standing foe, I said a silent prayer that Shenan was still alive.

Tact · Jan 31, 2007, 11:29 AM // 11:29

Very nicely written! Good job!

Will you post your newer entry on Guru as well? If not I'll read the entries on your website from now on.