Curse

noir0 · Jan 31, 2007, 12:32 PM // 12:32

Thank you for posting your site, it is permanently bookmarked

.

HezekiahKurtz · Feb 03, 2007, 05:30 AM // 05:30

No problem. The site will always be one entry ahead of this spot, and most of the entries there are illustrated with screenshots.

Sorry I missed yesterday. I forgot to email the stuff home from work. Here it is:

__________________________________________________ _________________
Colossus 68, 1275 DR

I didn’t have a chance to finish last night, so I will finish today. We are not going anywhere right now, anyway. Not today.

Whatever Shenan—whatever skills he used—killed most of the damned coming up that hill. The rest had sustained such serious injuries that we finished them off without incident. Shenan did not wake, and as we moved him back to the building where we had spent the night, the peasants returned, praising us and our powers. I imagine they had no idea it was all Shenan.

“Let’s take the stronghold,” Chircuck said. “We can just go ahead with our plans.”

“Except we’re short an elementalist,” Bruck said.

“We’ll be fine,” Chircuck said. “We just have to be careful.”

We left Shenan with a few peasants and gathered near the last bridge before the stronghold. Bruck reviewed our plan with the group. Based on what we had seen before, and on Chircuck’s words, we figured that there were at least a hundred of the damned holed up in the stronghold—which isn’t really very strong, it turns out. It was designed primarily to be a place of trade; a market square, of sorts. Our greatest fear while planning was that the damned would realize they could overpower us by sheer force of numbers, and consequently flood out of the stronghold in a mass of hysterical frenzy. However, at the same time, we could not plan on surprising them—the roads and terrain up to the stronghold is devoid of cover—or on taking the walls or gates by brute force—from their perches high overhead they could easily overcome us. Our only option was to try and trick them into sending small forces out.

Long before we reached the stronghold, we separated into three groups. Chircuck led thirteen of the peasants in a wide arc to the south, down to the ridge that rose above our objective; two of them would climb the back of the ridge and taunt the damned by throwing rocks and shouting generally offensive epitaphs. Their purpose was to goad the damned into sending a few men out to shut them up—just a few; no more than eight or nine. The other twelve would stay out of site, and ambush whoever the damned sent out; hopefully it would not be more than they could handle.

My party would also try to draw a small group out of the structure. We hid back at the last bridge before the stronghold—a good several hundred yards away—down behind the river bank, and the remaining two peasants approached the stronghold, lugging between them an empty chest. We had found it the night before last in the small building, and emptied it of its rotting garments and half-eaten boots. The idea was that the chest would attract the attention of the men inside, some of whom would come out to relieve the peasants of their burden. The peasants would flee toward us with the chest, kiting the damned along behind them.

It really worked surprisingly well. The timing was perfect. The chest hadn’t even drawn within a hundred yards of the wall before the northern doors opened and out came about ten men; the two peasants turned back toward us, and started to run. At the same time, another ten damned came out of the western gate and headed toward the back of the ridge, toward Chircuck and his group. Our two peasants fled at top speed, the chest bouncing awkwardly between them. They ran surprisingly fast, given the weight they shared between them.

“They’re not going to make it to us,” Guani said. “The refugees are coming too fast.”

It did look like that, and I started to jump up and out.

“Wait a minute,” Bruck said. “We don’t want to spoil it.”

I stopped with my upper body above the ridge; my momentum almost put me on my face.

“What if just I went out there?” Kandra said. Her eyes shone with anticipation, and she licked her lips quickly. “Just one of us won’t make them turn back.”

The idea sounded good to me, and I said, “Go for it.”

Bruck shot me a narrow-eyed scowl, and said, “No, don’t! If anyone goes, it should be someone that can either heal them, or support them from a distance.”

“Then you and I,” Wez said to him. At that, Bruck nodded, and the two of them jumped out from the bank. The Kournan were still a hundred yards out, with the damned closing in.

“I can’t imagine that this will work,” Guani said. “What happens after this group? Surely they won’t send others out—not few enough that they aren’t certain to demolish us.”

“We’ll figure that out when we get there,” Kandra said, not taking her eyes from the monk and ranger.

By then our party members had come within range of the peasants. Bruck cast mark of protection twice while Wez unloaded a series of arrows on the refugees. It amazed me how, even at that distance, with targets moving at full speed, he did not miss a single shot. Every arrow found a home in the chest, arm, or leg of a damned. One of them fell and did not get back up.

The scene—peasants fleeing from a mob of slathering zealots, and two of my party members the next ones to die—sent chills down my back. An intense, sudden fear flooded my blood. Just a few moments before our foes reached the peasants, I said, “I can’t take it anymore,” and hopped up from riverbank. The clanking of metal and heavy breathing of runners told me that the ladies had followed.

Seconds later, the damned fell on the peasants, who ignored the blows as best they could, while still heading toward Bruck and Wez. The ranger called out a target—the nearest damned—and once in range I hurled my first spear. Guani and Kandra passed me as the spearhead struck the target square in the chest, taking him down. As the ladies reached the scuffle, one of the peasants fell with a cry, his body crumbling under a heavy, bloody blow; there’s only so much a monk can do for people not born and bred to fight. The second Kournan fell soon after. I felt bad for them; being bait is about as much fun as pulling a thorn from the paw of a Char, even if you can count on being brought back afterwards. It doesn’t make the wounds hurt any less. I guess they thought their home was worth dying for again and again.

With Kandra, Guani, and I added to the fray, the situation suddenly seemed much less grim than only moments before. In fact, despite their fury and raging passion, the damned fell quickly; for all I know, a month or two ago they were probably farmers, merchants, or fishermen. Somehow, now, they found themselves stealing others homes, and attacking a couple of peasants over an empty chest. As we took them methodically down, one-by-one, I saw an unnatural determination in their faces, a creepy confusion in their eyes.

After the last one fell, and as we stood catching our breath, Bruck started to resurrect the peasants.

“Did you see how I cut through them?” Guani said, giving Kandra a sidelong glance. “Like butter.”

Kandra shook her head and rolled her eyes. “It’s hard to get in close, what with you swinging that thing in such wide arcs.”

I chuckled to myself, glad to have that hurdle past. A raspy, unintelligible voice caught my attention, as did a slight movement in my peripheral vision. Turning my head, I saw that one of the damned lay slightly separated from the bulk of the carnage, shaking as if with a mild seizure. I stepped to him, looking over his tattered and broken form. Blood flowed from numerous wounds on his torso and face. Arrows protruded from his stomach, arm, and chest. His shredded clothing hung like a war-torn flag. The convulsion continued to ripple throughout his otherwise limp frame. The rabid fanaticism that had filled his eyes had disappeared; they now seemed strangely lucid and comprehending. Guilty. That is probably the best word to describe how he looked. Guilty.

I raised my spear to finish him off.

His lips moved slightly, and ever so quietly he said, “Thank you.”

I imagine that had I not already started the unstoppable movement of killing him, I would have spared him—just to try and find out why he was thanking me. But I could not interrupt the inertia of my muscles, and I am left without an answer to that question.

“Here come more,” Kandra said. I looked to where she pointed, toward the stronghold. Two huge mobs were pouring out of the gates—one toward us, and a second toward the ridge where the other first group had gone.

“Chircuck and his folks did it, I think,” said Wez. “The plan is working so far.”

The group headed to the Southwest did not stop, but moved in a swelling and mixing mess toward Chircuck’s position. The other group paused for a few moments outside of the gates, in a disorganized mass of spears, swords, helmets and shields. Then they loosed some kind of war-chant, raised their weapons, and started toward us.

“They’re coming fast,” one of the peasants said, his voice raspy and pained. His face was white and drawn.

“I don’t think,” Bruck said as he continued to heal the peasants, “we can take a group that size.”

“At least forty,” I said. “And look, there are more atop the walls; I think our estimates were off. We’ve got to change our plans.”

“We’ve got to run,” Bruck said.

“I hope Chircuck and his group can get away,” Kandra said.

“They’ll be fine,” Guani said. “They are Kournan.”

“Which way?” I asked.

Bruck shook his head. “We need to get Shenan first; we can carry him if he’s not yet awake or if he can’t walk. After that, let’s see how far they will pursue, and if we’ll have a chance to pick stragglers off. If they continue to pursue, we can head north, toward the village we were at the other night.”

By then, the damned were only a few hundred yards off, and moving at us with a steady, aggressive pace. We jogged back across the last bridge, gaining space between us and the damned. By the time we had stopped to pick up Shenan and the two peasants, we still had a few hundred yards advantage. Bruck and I carried Shenan, and we headed Northward. Several islands later, we still had a considerable lead, but our pursuers showed no signs of slowing.

“This can’t end well,” I said to Bruck.

“Let’s go back to the village,” he said. “Perhaps they won’t be willing to follow us there.”

But they did, even if we did move faster than them and arrived a good half a mile ahead of them. They stopped on the ridge above the city, to the Southeast, and congregated there. We sought the leaders of the town, and as we waited at the city’s perimeter in the blazing afternoon sun, the wives and family members of the peasants that had gone with us to reclaim the stronghold drilled us for information about their husbands, fathers, and sons. We assured them that everyone was probably okay, and that the ones not with us were under the capable leadership of Chircuck. However, by the time the village leadership had arrived, the crowd had grown to well over a hundred uneasy Kournan. An anxious silence settled over them as they listened to our exchange with the village leaders. They, of course, were not pleased whatsoever on what we had brought to the village, and cursed us deeply.

“There is no way we can fight them,” the village leader said. “We are not trained. We have no skills, no powers.”

“They aren’t trained, either,” Bruck said. “Most of them are people just like you. Farmers. Fishers. There are only forty of them. If we do things right, we can take them. If we set up the defenses right.”

“Someone is coming!” Wez said, and we looked to the Southwest where he pointed.

“It’s Chircuck,” Guani said. And then with less animation, “And only two others.”

Before he could reach us, a high-pitched rumble swelled among the villagers. They pointed at the damned and cried out in fear. One person near me shouted out in absolute terror: “More! More of them! At least another forty! Maybe fifty!”

Indeed, the group atop the ridge had grown considerably in just the last few minutes. It was at least double the size. A sickness arose in the pit of my stomach.

“This is bad,” Kandra said.

Chircuck reached us, panting heavily. His clothes were ripped, and several un-healed wounds marred his face. “They killed us!” Chircuck said. “There were too many. Only we three escaped.”

A wail arose from the crowd around us, from the families of those that had fallen.

“What have you done?” the village leader cried out. “We are ruined!”

“Here they come!” someone cried out.

Pandemonium. That is the only word for it. People fled in every direction—every direction except Southeast. They grabbed children and ran. They cried out in terror. They tried to gather their families. A few tried to get organized. Most simply scrambled away. They fell over each other. They trampled each other. Through the mess of people, I could hardly verify that the damned were, in fact, advancing. But after a few moments of stretching and straining, I saw that they were. Luckily, my party members did not give in to the panic. We huddled closely near each other, trying to find comfort in each other’s calmness. Well, in each other’s lack of running around like crazy.

“What can we do?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Wez said. “These people stand no chance—not like this.”

“We have to help them if we can,” Guani said.

“Aren’t the refugees after us?” I asked. “Can we lure them away?”

“Are you nuts?” Wez asked. “It’s not our fault. It’s those crazy farmers—they’re the ones that wanted us to help them attack the stronghold. They’re responsible.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bruck said. “We have to do what we can. Let’s try to pull them away.”

The crowd had moved northward, away from us and the refugees that were charging down the ridge. Some of the Kournan had disappeared into the buildings, but most were simply fleeing into the area to the north—still disorganized. Still frantic. They were the smart ones, I think.

We hurried southward, at an angle that would allow us to pass to the side of the mob, to barely draw their aggravation. The dull roar that rose from their churning body filled the air. The ground trembled. Their brandished blades and spear-points shone in the sunlight, and their helmets glistened like so many deadly spearheads. They had no formation, except, perhaps, a small nucleus of soldiers in their center. In the confusion, I could not be sure, but I thought the men comprising that core carried something between them. A distinct fear penetrated my calm the closer we came to the damned. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, and my knees jiggled weakly as we ran. I could barely carry Shenan with Wez’s help. When we had drawn within a few hundred yards of the mob, Bruck motioned for Wez to trade him places.

“Draw them with your arrows.”

“And then what?” Wez asked. “Die?”

“We run if too many come. If not, we face them.”

Shaking his head, Wez drew his bow back, and fired. It worked, but not well enough. Only a handful of damned turned away from the village, and charged at us. Bruck and I practically dropped Shenan, and proceeded to help the ladies with our attackers. Our experienced tactics easily eradicated the novices. But by the time we had done so, the frontlines of the damned had reached the first village building. Screams rose from the structure as the door burst inward, and the men invaded.

It did not take long for the damned to overrun the city—perhaps fifteen minutes. Thankfully, I had little chance to watch the carnage as the buildings burned, and as women, children, and men fought valiantly, yet vainly. Constant screams filled the air, which grew hazy and choking from smoke. Flames consumed the town’s windmill; it collapsed surprisingly quickly. Throughout the process, we siphoned off as many damned we could, following the main group down the hill and into the burning fringes of the village. We usually took five or six at a time—when more came at us we retreated to safety before attacking again. We must have taken out at least ten groups. But it was not enough. I found my will to fight drain each time a new building burst into flames. My spear flew at a higher, slower arc whenever my eyes touched the face-down body of a child or woman.

As we finished off another group, and found ourselves almost at the place where we had dropped Shenan, just outside of the village, Wez paused, leaning tiredly on his bow and placing his forehead on the back of his hands.

“Pull some more!” Bruck shouted at the ranger. He pointed at the nearest group, which was a few hundred feet away, celebrating as another building burst into flames.

He shook his head and turned to the monk. “There is no use! It’s too late! Look around yourself! There is no one left no save!”

“We should get out while we can,” Kandra said.

“No!” Bruck shouted. “We’ve got to do all we can!” Soot, ash, and blood spotted his clothing and face. An angry guilt burned is eyes.

“We did all we could,” I said.

Bruck spun to me, clenching his fist and shaking it in my face. “Look around you! Look at the bodies and the buildings! We have done nothing here but bring destruction and death upon these people!” He stood there trembling, his jaw clenching and his eyes unblinking. I knew he must have felt what I felt: sadness for the fallen, for the so-quickly razed village; guilt at the possibility that we had been involved in the process of destruction; helplessness against such odds. But somehow, those emotions did not weaken him as they did me. They fed his energy, gave him purpose and strength. Looking into his eyes, I knew that here was a man who would never give up.

In those moments, as we stood in the midst of chaos and senseless brutality, I yearned to be like him, to be filled not with weakness and discouragement in the face of disaster, but with strength and will. My heart took courage. “We can help the others,” I said, turning to Wez, Kandra, and Guani. “Those that fled to the north. If we can distract these damned, perhaps we can allow them time to escape.”

“What can we do against so many?” Wez demanded. He stepped toward me, his teeth gritting and his hands gripping his bow so tightly I could see the whites of his knuckles. The wind whipped his hair against his face. I have never seen him so angry. “Soon they’ll be finished with the town, and they’ll all turn to us. We can take ten—maybe fifteen or twenty if things go right. But there is no way we can take seventy-five or a hundred!”

“Did you see,” Guani said, “what some of the damned carried? It looked like they had a large ball, and were carrying it on a platform or bed.”

“I saw it,” Kandra said. “I thought that they must be the leaders. Whatever they carry gives them power.”

“We may have a chance,” Guani said. “If we can draw the attention of that group, maybe they will all come.”

“Why would we want that?” Wez cried. “Why would we want them all to focus their attention on us?”

“We’ve got to help where we can,” Bruck said.

“No!” But Wez was the only one who felt that way. He looked at each of us in turn, and saw it in our faces. I knew mine showed a renewed determination, and Kandra and Guani both had expressions of grim resolution. “You’re all crazy.”

“Let’s find that group of leaders,” Bruck said. “Circle around the perimeter until we see it. Then let’s try to draw its attention.”

With their work practically finished, the damned had started to congregate near Northern edge of the village. We figured the leaders would be there, and so trotted along the eastern edge of the village, skirting around enflamed and crumbling buildings. Several small groups advanced toward us at different times. We backed away from them for as long as it took for them to loose interest. It took at least ten minutes to make our way toward the congregation of the damned. Smoke burned in my eyes. I coughed often, searching for clear and clean breathing. At first, I did not realize it, but by the time we had come within a few hundred feet of the refugees, I realized that the uneasiness in the pit of my stomach was not new to me.

“You feel that?” I asked Bruck.

He nodded curtly.

“It’s the same as back in that swamp!”

Kandra looked back at us, and agreed with a solemn nod.

“There!” Guani shouted. She pointed at a group of about fifteen scruffy, frantic men huddled around another core of five or six. I could see that the center cluster held what looked like a large red pillow, but could not tell for certain what rested on it. I only caught glimpses of shiny, spherical pink. Whatever it was, they held it with great care, never jostling or bumping it.

“What the hell is that thing?” Wez hissed, squinting.

“Can you hit it?” Bruck asked.

Wez gave him an insulted look. “Not at this distance. Cover me.” He darted forward with Bruck close behind, and the rest of us just a few steps behind. As we drew closer, a group of about ten refugees spotted us, and started in our direction.

Bruck looked back at us. “Take care of them so he can get a shot off!”

The three of us spurted forward, past Bruck and up to Wez. In another instant the entire horde of the damned started a general movement in our direction. There must have been fifty of them. I could hardly breathe—I was tempted to wonder if it was worth taking my last few breaths.

“I only need a few seconds,” the ranger said, readying an arrow as he ran. His eyes remained focused and solid, intent on his target.

The ladies and I surged past him. As I caught one last sight of that pulsing, pink ball of slime, my heart dropped into my ankles. I had a sudden vision of the other-worldly being that we’d seen in the swamp back in Istan. I saw its two mouths, the one always speaking that awful whisper, and the blackness around its form. The vision flooded my bones with despair, and I shouted—nothing intelligible, but nothing so full of meaning—as if doing so could banish the dismay and stop a sudden dark descent. Raising my spear, I cried out again, steeling myself against the fear, dread, and approaching onslaught.

My first throw slowed a damned. Guani raced past me, her scythe cutting open the first three that reached us. Kandra’s blade sang like the song of fading salvation.

The first group of damned faltered, visibly frightened by the fierceness of the three foes before them. Their hesitation lasted only a second, but it was long enough. I am not even sure what skill I was using—at that point I figured it didn’t matter—but I saw an arrow arc over the oncoming horde. Somehow I remember it spinning, the fletching bending backwards at the shaft’s unnatural speed. I watched as it disappeared into the midst of the damned.

A noise like ripping air rang out, long and clear and all-consuming. All other sound disappeared in those seconds—I could not hear any damned, their cries or their brandished weapons, their clanking shields or creaking armor. The sound of burning and collapsing buildings did not exist. The distant ocean, and the snapping wind. It all seemed distant and unreal—the only noise that was, was that shrill, tearing sound that made my head feel like it would burst if my ears didn’t explode first. The damned—every one of them—halted in their tracks and covered their ears. Their mouths opened in screams that I didn’t hear. Their eyes bulged. I am not sure if their bodies shook, or if it was the air that trembled. I imagine I must have looked the same to them.

When the sound ended, as suddenly as it had started, I heard from behind me the last part of Bruck’s call, “…..uuuuun!”

I paused only long enough to see that Kandra and Guani had heard and were obeying the order, and then turned and took flight. A deafening roar of animalistic, ferocious determination arose behind us. I wondered if the damned had transformed behind my back, had turned into a pack of raging demons. At that point, I was certain there would be no tomorrow for us.

Tact · Feb 03, 2007, 11:57 AM // 11:57

Oh, what an ending! I can't wait for the next entry. Great stuff Hezekiah!

HezekiahKurtz · Feb 07, 2007, 02:59 AM // 02:59

Colossus 69, 1275 DR

Once again, I was unable to finish my entry yesterday. Shenan awoke, and we had some interesting conversations. I hope to be able to write about them, but first I guess I should give some details about what happened next, after Wez hit that . . . that thing with the arrow.

I really don’t know how we escaped, with that horde of refugees behind us. I guess they simply could not run as fast as us, having to worry about tripping over each other or getting space between them an the nearest person. I imagine that had they used any crippling or slowing skills, at least one or two of us would not have escaped at that time. We have concluded that they really are just average, everyday people, who have never touched a sword or used a skill, or developed any kind of endurance. Their strength is in their numbers, not in their abilities.

“We’ve got to get Shenan!” Bruck shouted, looking back over his shoulder. He led our fleeing party, although we all quickly caught up with him as he periodically stopped to cast a healing or protective spell on us. Dwayna bless that monk. He is a life saver.

“Can we get away while carrying him?” Wez asked. I don’t think he wanted to leave the elemenalist behind, but simply worried about our survival.

“I won’t leave him,” Bruck said. “He’s a party member.”

Somehow, in the midst of all that fear and danger, I found that comment strangely comforting. I was a member of a party. And I would not be left behind unless there was absolutely no other option.

It wasn’t long until we were no longer strung out, but ran in a group. We headed straight south, not even bothering to skirt around the burning village, but passing between pillars of fire and smoke. A few random damned tried to stop us, but we ignored them or cut them down as we ran. By the time we had reached Shenan, we had a good thirty second lead on the pursuing army. Much to my surprise, Chircuck was there with the still-unconscious elementalist, crouched behind the safety of a large boulder.

“You people are insane,” he said to us.

“Yeah, that’s no bull,” Wez said.

“Why would you engage them like that? There’s no way you can escape.”

Bruck simply shrugged and said, “We have to do what we can to help.”

“I will carry him,” I said, motioning for Wez to help me pick up Shenan. “He will slow us, but at least I can use Fall Back to help us.” Wez helped me throw him over my shoulder, like a sack of potato spuds. I staggered under the initial weight, but managed to keep my feet with Kandra’s steadying hand.

A damned jumped suddenly around the boulder, but didn’t last long. A scythe and arrow put him down.

“They’re almost here!” Guani shouted. A few front runners were no more than fifty feet away, but the majority were much further back. “Run!”

We continued southward, now at a much slower pace because of me. We ran up and down a hill or two, around the rocks and trees of the savannah. I used Fall Back as often as I could, which allow us to get too much further ahead; really, I was very slow with Shenan’s weight on my shoulders. An occasional arrow—something we had not seen from the damned until then—fell near or past our party.

“Let’s carry him together,” Wez said. “We can go faster.” I nodded, and as quickly as possible, Wez helped me pull him down. It cost us a few precious seconds. He carried the shoulders, and I carried the legs. We had to run practically sideways. It didn’t feel much faster, but it didn’t feel as draining. Shenan’s head hung backwards and bounced in a way that must have hurt immensely.

“Where are we going?” Kandra said. “What is our plan at this point?” We started up a steep ridge, covered in boulders and shrubs. I could not see what waited on the other side.

“My village is the closest town,” Guani said.

“We can’t lead them to more people,” Bruck said.

“They might not pursue us that far.”

I glanced backward. A handful rapidly pulled closer. Another five or six ran between them and the main body of damned, which pursued at from a distance of at least two hundred feet. I am not sure what I would categorize as “signs of slowing,” but I sure didn’t see any. None of them were walking or had tuned back.

“There is a place some distance to the west,” Chircuck said. “A sanctuary deep in the caves of the mountains. If we could make it there, we might be safe. We might even be able to hold them off in the tight space of the caves, if we have to.”

“You have been there?” Bruck said.

The Kournan monk nodded.

“Let’s head there,” Bruck said.

“We should head west now, then.”

“Not yet,” Bruck ordered. “After we start heading down the other side of this ridge. That way they won’t see us turning until they crest the ridge. Kandra and Guani—at the top of the ridge you stop and turn, to face the ones closest to us. Chrickcu and I will heal you. Once you’ve finished off most of them, we’ll catch up to Wez and Hez. Everyone understand?”

No one objected.

“Head straight west,” Chircuck said.

Once we had reached the top, and started to descend the opposite side, Wez and I were alone. I looked back just as Guani engaged the first damned, and caught a glimpse of spraying blood. Beyond the ridge, I could only see sky. We turned westward, and continued our awkward flight.

“If they get themselves killed, we’ve got to go back for them,” Wez said between pants and grunts.

“Now who’s crazy?” I said. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep it up. We had already run at least two miles.

Over the next minute, I glanced back every other second. The constant flash of magical light brightened the horizon as the monks cast healing spell after healing spell. I could not see either woman; they must have gone down the other side just slightly. The sound of distant the healing spells and of clashing metal chilled my blood. I was relieved when, finally, Bruck and Chircuck started running after us, almost immediately followed by Kandra and Guani. I could tell that it would take them a little while to catch up, and I was tempted to slow my pace.

“Keep going!” Wez said. “They’ll be here before you know it.”

The next time I looked back, the damned were pouring over the hill. They were still heading directly south, but quickly adjusted their course to follow ours. Really, I think the hill saved our lives. If they had seen us turning, they could have adjusted their course to take a shorter path to us. But with the ridge concealing our new direction, they had to make the same ninety-degree turn as us.

We ran on. The damned pursued relentlessly. We could not help but slow, simply because our strength was failing us. But it seemed the damned also slowed, although not as much. It took a full five minutes for the rest of our party to reach us. About the time they did, a dozen of the damned split off and headed to the left.

“They’re up to something,” Bruck said. “They may be trying to surround us.”

“They can’t even catch up to us?” Guani said. “I think that as long as we keep going, we are in the clear.”

She could not have been more wrong. For whatever reason, the new group moved much faster than the rest, and even much faster than us. Every moment brought them closer to us, but before a few minutes had passed, they disappeared over a hill behind us and to our right, and we could no longer track them.

“Just keep on,” Bruck said. “Keep going. We’ll find out what they’re up to soon enough. And then we’ll deal with it.”

At least two miles passed beneath our feet before anything changed. Our pace slowed to a trot, although we managed to maintain the distance between us and the army. They trailed us by a good hundred yards, or more.

As we started down yet another long, gradual slope, Chircuck said, “It’s not far to the caves, now. Another mile or so.” At the base of the slope, wide, shady trees surrounded a shallow pool. Around the water, under the wide branches, at least fifty wild, hostile animals of every variety found in the Arjok Ward grazed on the grass and drank at the banks. I could not see a quick, easy way past them without drawing the agro of some.

“Let us take Shenan,” Bruck said. “You two need a break.”

Neither Wez nor I argued, and in just a few seconds we had transferred the burden. No sooner had we done so, when Guani cried, “They got ahead of us!” She pointed down the slope to our left.

It took me several seconds, but then I spotted them in the distance, slightly southwest, down past the herd of animals.

“We have to go that way,” Chirchuck said, nodding directly in front of us, past the pool. Again, I saw no way to get to where he indicated without drawing the agro of at least ten to fifteen animals. I imagine that we could have just run right past them, except for one thing.

“They’re drawing them directly across our path!” Kandra said.

Indeed, they were. The dozen damned had fanned out in a wide line, heading exactly perpendicular to our path fast enough that they would intersect our course ahead of us, before we reached the other side of the pool. Crested Ntouka birds and Cracked Mesa trailed along behind them, casting spells as they wailed and growled. Every second, another monster—a Rampaging Ntouka, Murmuring Thornbush, or Stone Shard Crag—caught their scent, and the mob behind them grew.

“We’ve got to change course,” Wez said. “We can’t make it past a horde like that!”

“Keep on!” Bruck shouted. “If we change course, they’ll do the same, and the ones behind us will gain that much ground on us.”

“We’ve got to beat them!” Kandra said, and shot ahead with a burst of speed. I marveled that she had so much energy left, and wondered if it wouldn’t be smarter to slow and find a better way to handle the situation. We had no chance to pass the point of meeting—the place where our path and the herd’s course would converge—before the damned reached it.

But we didn’t slow or stop. We followed Kandra with renewed strength, although at hardly the same pace as the warrior. My breath burned in my chest. My legs ached, and my side throbbed like it would explode. I can not remember a time when my heart pounded so hard. It was not only from the running, either. It was also from the double fear, fed unnaturally by the aura of the damned—the one so similar to the one back in the swamp—and created instinctively at our race to safety. Or to death. I was not sure, in those moments. Time slowed. I saw everything that happened around and before me—the damned kiting the herd toward us, three of them falling victim to their own trap; the splashing of beasts through the water; the light illuminating all of them off-and-on as they passed from under and into shadows of the tree branches—and felt the pursuers behind me, like a wall inevitably closing in, to crush us against the base of a moving cliff. I heard every breath and grunt of my companions, absorbed every encouraging word, shared in every skill they paused momentarily to cast. But strangely, at the same time, as everything slowed and every detail became striking and clear, the seconds dwindled. They passed at double speed. Triple. Before I knew it, there was Kandra, into the water and meeting the first damned.

She cut him down with a swift, merciless swipe and enraged howl. A Cracked Mesa blocked her path, roaring as it raised a foot to crush her. She dove forward, out from beneath the killing blow, but directly into a nearby Stone Shard Crag.

“Kandra!” Wez shouted, shooting forward and loosing a blur of arrows.

“Take him!” Bruck said, pushing Shenan at me. I nearly dropped him, but managed to hold on to his armpits as we continued forward.

And then I was there, in the shallow water, in the midst of chaos: beasts and damned everywhere; my party members calling out confused instructions; water spraying every direction. Someone said to fight. Someone said to keep going. Chircuck disappeared; I didn’t see him go—I was looking the other way—but Shenan’s legs dropped into the water. I could not support the weight, and he slipped out of my arms. I remember very clearly the calm look on his face as it disappeared beneath the churning surface. Spells bombarded me, filling me with agony and life. With my arms now free, I cast Brace Yourself, and quickly followed with Fall Back. As I stumbled on, every imaginable appendage of beasts must have struck my back, shoulders, chest, skull, and everywhere else—I could not keep track of direction or bodies—those of friend or foe. But I could not stop. My spears found random targets—in that churning mass, I can’t imagine throwing a spear and not hitting something, and the vast odds were that it would hit a foe. Vaguely, I heard the roar of the approaching refugee army.

Someone shouted that Guani was down, killed. In the corner of my eye, a Rampaging Ntouka trampled Chircuck into the water.

The refugee horde met the fray, cramming even more bodies into the already crowded space. I could not press forward as I had previously done, throwing spears, trying to make progress; there was simply no room to do anything but try and stay afoot. Not even the damned or wild beasts had room to fight or advance on me—although one man did try to bite my face in the moment before the mass shifted him away. Bodies—sweaty or furry or stony—pressed against me, even lifted me off of the ground once. Their shouts and squawks and roars filled my ears. I could not see more than a few feet to either side.

“Run, Hez!” Bruck called. He was nearby, but I could not see him.

“Where are you?” I shouted.

“Just run! You’re the last! Get away!”

Unexpectedly, and very suddenly, the mass shifted away from me. I found myself on the edge of the fray. Somehow I had been turned around. I faced the direction we’d come from. And there it was, only thirty feet away. Four motionless damned stood on the bank, merely observing the conflict, each one holding the corner of an enormous red pillow. It was my first real look at the pink, fleshy ball that had been Wez’s target. It was the size of two human heads, textured with red veins of varying size crisscrossing in every direction. Its shape was almost perfectly spherical except for how it bulged and bubbled like boiling water. Thick, pulsing veins tied two wide, blood-shot eyes to the front of the form, above one constantly moving mouth. The broken shaft of an arrow protruded several inches from the center of the thing’s form.

Seeing it inspired fear—a deep, penetrating terror lined with thick despair. I wanted to lie down and let the chaos consume me. Somehow, I did not. I am not sure why not, although certainly I do not presume to say it was courage or bravery or even smart thinking, as a few have said. I think it was more battle instinct, earned from years of training and fighting in the fields of Ascalon and coliseums of Cantha.

Five quick steps—punctuated by rapid dodging of a damned and a Murmuring Thornbush—and I had a clear, easy throw. As the spear soared through the air, I braced myself for the high-pitched scream that had followed Wez’s earlier arrow. But it never came. The spearhead hit dead in the center of the thing—I imagine with a squish, although I could not hear it over the din of the battle—and continued on through the form. For only an instant—the shortest time imaginable—the spearhead poked out of the other side, and blood sprayed back and out. And then the thing imploded with a blinding flash of white and a quick, loud “CRACK!” At the same time that the fear drained magically out of my body, an inexplicable force pulled me forward, making me take two rapid steps before forcing me to my hands and knees in the water.

I did not pause for even a second. Blinking to clear the white spots in my vision, I scrambled to my feet and prepared to engage a newly-enraged army. The pillow lay half in the water, and the four men who had held it lay half on and half off of it, in the shape of an X. Their heads—or what was left of them; I could not tell where one smashed skull began, and another ended—made the center of the X. I can only presume that the force which had pulled me forward had also attracted them. Apparently at a very great speed.

I turned, surprised at the renewed hope surging through me, but knowing that I was not out of that mess, yet. However, with their master destroyed, the damned became new creatures. They transformed from fanatical beings of rage, to dogs of cowardice. Already, they fled in every direction. And they had the agro of the beasts. I kept very still, careful not to draw any attention. It surprised me how little time passed before I stood there alone with the dead in that bloodied pool, beneath the constant, unmoving shade of the indifferent trees. I stood there, reveling in victory. The sounds of battle faded. The water calmed to a glass surface.

And just when I thought we were in the clear, as I was ready to start looking for Bruck’s body to resurrect him, I heard a voice from behind me.

“This is an interesting dilemma.”

Hope has never fled so suddenly.

I initially didn’t think I’d heard right, so turned slowly, trying to make sense of the voice. I couldn’t believe it. Not now, not under these circumstances. But sure enough, there he was, standing just behind the pillow on the dry ground, his arms folded across his chest, a sly grin on his face, his blue assassin’s garb as neat and tidy as ever.

“What do I do?” Guel said. “The only thing that has kept me from killing you is Bruck’s request. But he is dead. Am I still bound by his last command?”

Initially, I did not speak, but readied my Signet of Return. I looked for Bruck’s body in the carnage. Damned lay everywhere, some in the water, some out. A few Ntouka Birds and Crags lay dead. There was Wez, next to Kandra. Chircuck there, next to a rampaging Ntouka. No sign of Guani or Bruck. Or Shenan, for that matter. “I think so,” I said. I may have squeaked it. “I think you are.”

“It wouldn’t take much for me to kill you,” the assassin said. I do not doubt he was right. If I looked anything like I felt, a child could have killed me accidentally while playing Slay the Char. He stepped around the pillow, stood with his toes in the water, and placed his hands on the hilts of daggers at his waist.

“I did not betray the guild,” I said. It was the only thing I could think of.

“Then why did you run?”

“What choice did I have? Emotions were running high because of the loss. You were all convinced of my guilt. It would have been my word against hers, with no one having a reason to believe me over her. I would not have lived through that night.”

He narrowed his eyes. “She was dead. That’s some pretty concrete evidence.”

“I had no choice. She ambushed me.”

“Enough!” He jerked his hands up—almost the same motion he would use to draw his daggers. But his hands were empty and clenched. His arms shook and his eyes burned into my soul. “Let’s bring your party back!”

And so we did. Well, it wasn’t necessarily “we.” He rezzed Bruck, and I rezzed Chircuck. We didn’t work together. I was just glad he didn’t kill me. Within five minutes, everyone was back and all healed up. There was a lot of hugging and thanking and marveling that we were still alive. They really made me feel like a hero, what with their gushing and their praise. I simply couldn’t believe that it seemed like we were finally out of danger. The morning, when we had been awakened in that building, seemed like days before. So much had happened. I was so tired.

When we started on our way, Bruck turned to Guel and said, “For future reference, if I’m dead, you’re not bound by my last command.”

“Good to know,” Guel said. And he gave me a look that said, “Next time, you won’t survive.”

noir0 · Feb 07, 2007, 03:09 AM // 03:09

*school girl scream*
I can't get enough of these journal entries.
/girlyness.

HezekiahKurtz · Feb 09, 2007, 03:05 AM // 03:05

Colossus 70, 1275 DR

I have not had much chance to write anything about what has happened here since we arrived. Really not much has happened except for a lot of talking; we all have a lot of questions, but unfortunately none of us have many answers. Shenan certainly isn’t telling us everything he knows. The day he awoke from his unconsciousness, he was up on his feet and moving about like his normal, slow, old self. As we sat around with our feet in one of the warm mineral springs, eating an afternoon meal of blueberry muffins—it came as quite a surprise that Kandra could cook—and lizard jerkey, Wez asked him what he’d done to save us that morning of the endless day.

“Just used some old elementalist skills,” he said. He shrugged, and grinned.

“Those are not skills I have ever seen,” the ranger said.

“Sure you have. Just a little Earthquake and Aftershock.”

“And that first one? The one with all the light?”

“Ah, that is a special one.”

“What is it?”

He just smiled. “I think you’d be surprised if you knew how many skills I have collected.”

“How many?”

“Oh, a few hundred.”

Wez laughed. “A few hundred, eh?”

Shenan’s eyes danced with mischief. “What secondary profession would you like me to choose next time we go out?”

“What?”

“Go ahead, choose a profession. I can be any of them, and can use any skill you want.”

Wez laughed again, but this time with some unease.

“Are you saying,” Guani said, “That you know every skill.”

Shenan gave her a sidelong look, and then shrugged again. “Why don’t you choose a profession, and we’ll see?”

“Where did you learn them all?” Kandra asked.

“The proper question is probably, ‘Where haven’t I learned them?’”

“Istan?” she said.

He nodded.

“Kourna?” she continued, and he smiled. “Vabbi? Cantha? Tyria?”

“Is there anywhere you haven’t been?” Bruck asked. I was impressed not only because Shenan had been to so many places, but also because he apparently was impressing the monk who had been everywhere in Elona many times.

“When you are my age, little boy,” the elementalist said, “and when you have traveled as long and as far as I have, you learn a thing or two.”

Bruck gave him a long, ponderous look. “What do you know of a Signet of Amplification? Do you know that skill?”

It surprised me that Bruck would ask such a direct, open question. A sudden nervousness arose in me. What if Shenan did know? What would our leader do? The feeling returned that I should question my involvement in helping the monk find that skill. In fact, I wondered in those moments if I should be fighting against him. The battle with the damned, and that pink-fleshed, head-shaped beast and its unnatural fear and constantly moving mouth had reminded me too much of the other-worldly being back in the swamp. No, I do not think that Bruck should be allowed to take that skill back to his master. But I do not know if I could stop him if I needed to.

Shenan’s forehead wrinkled as he thought. “No. I don’t believe I know that one. What profession is it? Are you sure it’s real?”

“No!” Bruck said, and he jumped to his feet. For a moment he stood over the old elementalist, breathing heavily. “I don’t know what profession it is for, and I don’t even know if it’s real!” Then he stomped off.

“What was that all about?” Chircuck asked.

“Apparently my question hit a soft spot,” Shenan said.

“I don’t know if we can tell you,” Wez said. “In fact, we should probably leave it up to him to tell you.”

But I did not leave it up to Bruck. I could not—and still cannot—shake the feeling that by helping Bruck, I am inadvertently helping a demon. So, later that afternoon, when the elementalist and I were alone, I told him everything I knew.

“Do you know anything about any of that?” I asked.

He did not respond for a long time, but looked into my eyes as if searching for information. I could not break his wrinkled, intense gaze.

“I believe everything you have said,” he finally said. “I think that tomorrow we must all talk with Bruck, and then you will learn a little more about me. And what I know. I think Bruck will find it interesting.”

“You can’t tell him I told you,” I said.

“I won’t. And do me a favor, my boy.”

“Yes?”

“Carry a signet of capture with you from now on.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder, nodded once, and then walked away.

HezekiahKurtz · Feb 14, 2007, 05:13 AM // 05:13

Colossus 71, 1275 DR

I am not sure why we have stayed here for so long. It’s a very pleasant place. The mineral springs and their associated pools have a rejuvenating power, and I have spent hour upon hour sitting under the stone gazebos, letting the water bubble up around me. Their fumes clear my head, relax my tired muscles. The wide open caves and high ceilings remind me of the spacious cathedrals and chambers of Ascalon. In certain parts of the cave, I feel like I should whisper to keep the calm, to maintain the sacredness.

But now it has been five days since the encounter with the damned. I am not sure how much more the water can relax me; in fact, just today our presence here has had the opposite effect on me. I have felt restless. I am ready to leave.

I awoke early this morning, and went straight to one of the tubs, where Wez and Kandra were already sitting. As I slipped into the water opposite the warrior, I tried not to look too hard at her, in her white cotton under clothes that clung to her frame. The bubbles covered most of her form—she slouched up to her shoulders in water—yet, the stones of the pool emanate a soft glow, and I could see enough of her shape that I felt somewhat attracted to her. It is not the first time I have felt like that. One of these days I will have to tell her. Wez sat next to her. Neither had been speaking as I approached.

We made small talk for a few minutes before others started trickling into the water. Guani, Bruck, Shenan, and then Chircuck. It felt odd, everyone showing up in the same place so early in the morning, as if we had planned a meeting. The meaningless talk of “How did you sleep last night,” and “I could sure go for some bacon and eggs” continued for a few minutes. And then the inevitable, natural silence fell over us. Shenan ended it.

“I think I’ve figured a few things out,” he said. “I’ve had time to think since yesterday, and I think that I got very lucky in joining the party I did. You see, I think we are all looking for the same thing. And by all of us, I mean Bruck and I.”

Bruck did not speak, but looked at him expectantly. I prayed to Dwayna that the elementalist wouldn’t blow my cover.

“That pink, ball-shaped thing you saw the other day,” Shenan said. “Any idea what that was?” He asked it to Bruck.

We had talked about it before, and concluded that it had been connected somehow to one of those other worlds. “We don’t think it belongs in this realm,” he said.

“You are right,” Shenan said. “It is a demon. Really, it is what you might call a baby demon. It did not come into this world long ago, as it was still relatively small. Perhaps two, or three months. When it grows—well, if it had been allowed to grow, it would have become a great big demon. A daddy demon of sorts. I saw a demon once—many years ago.”

“What was that like?” Guani asked. She, like the others, sat in the pool looking intently at the elementalist, captivated by his words. We had all speculated a great deal over the days on what had happened and why, but we really had no concrete answers. Hopefully we could get some now.

“Oh, I was very young. Just a child. More than anything I remember fear. A great deal of fear. And blackness. Blackness surrounded the demon. One mouth always moved, but I heard nothing out of it. I could only hear the other mouth.”

“We’ve seen one of those!” Kandra said. “Back in Istan!”

Shenan nodded, his face grim. “I suspected you might have. I think you have already made the connection between the baby demon and the daddy demon.”

Indeed, we had.

“Nothing you have said so far is really surprising to us,” Bruck said. “Do you have anything new you can tell us?”

“Your question yesterday startled me a little, and I must admit that I lied to you about the Signet of Amplification. I have heard of it. In fact, the demon I saw years ago was talking about that skill. But I was not lying about knowing it, or about knowing what it does. All I know is that the demon wanted it desperately.”

“I am interested in hearing how you knew of a demon? How you saw one and listened in on the conversation.”

The elementalist waited for a few moments. “My parents. My parents were his slaves. I left after that, after I found it out and before they knew I knew. But that is not so important. What is important is that when I left my family, I decided that it would be my purpose to find that skill and discover what it does. That is why I have traveled so far, for so long, and collected so many skills. I am interested in knowing why you want that skill, Bruck.” He gave the monk a long, solid look, and raised his eyebrows.

“I won’t lie to you,” Bruck said. “I am like your parents, and seek it because I must.”

Shenan nodded slowly, pursing his lips. “I suspected as much. In fact, I have suspected for several days. You see, I met someone who once spoke of a monk companion she’d once had.”

Bruck sat up suddenly, his face anxious. But he did not speak.

“She told me about how she’d been resurrected by a demon in the First City, and about her purpose in life.”

“Is she alive?” Bruck asked.

Shenan shrugged. “When I last saw her, she was. I spent some time with her, and we became very good friends.”

“What does that mean?” Bruck asked. “Very good friends?”

“We were not lovers, if that is your concern.”

“Bah!”

“In the years since, I have spent a great deal of time learning to read and reading. I have been to all the great libraries in the world, and read every book I could find on any subject that might be related to the signet and the demons. Unfortunately, I have learned only a few things more than what I imagine you already know.”

Bruck had settled back down in the pool, his face unexpressive.

“Well,” Wez said. “Are you going to tell us?”

“I will. There are, apparently, two ultimate grand master demon bosses from the same realm.” He looked around us, the corner of one mouth rising. “I’m kidding. I don’t know what they are called. I suppose you might call them kings or lords or gods. Whatever they might be called, they have done battle in that realm for eons, and in the last five or six decades have brought that battle here.”

“We know that,” Bruck said.

“No, not really,” I said. “I did not know that. I figured that the other-worldly being wasn’t up to good in this realm, but I did not know there are two of them.”

Wez shrugged. “Chalk another up to your being slow. Why else would there be those two armies back in the swamp?”

I shrugged. “I guess I didn’t think about it.”

“Clearly.”

“What about this swamp? And what are these armies you’re talking about?” Shenan asked.

“Yeah,” Guani said. “Fill us in.”

Wez, Kandra, and I looked to Bruck. He shrugged, shook his head, and sighed. Then he told the two Kournan and the elementalist everything he’d told us before leaving Istan.

“So you were caught in the middle of a battle between the two sides,” Shenan said. “It is as I suspected. Just as their power is growing here in Kourna, it is growing in Instan. They are bringing their conflict here more and more—somehow their power is increasing in our world.”

“And that is why they are called ‘damned’,” I said. “All those refugees.” I looked to Guani. “Your brother. They are damned because they follow demons.”

Guani frowned, and did not respond.

“Exactly,” the elementalist said. “For one reason or another, they obey these demons—which side, I do not know.”

“I suspect it’s not my side,” Bruck said. “I do not think they would have attacked me if they were on my side.”

Shenan shrugged. “Could be.”

“You still haven’t really answered any of our questions,” Kandra said. “What does the signet do?”

Wez said, “Why do the other-worldly lords want it? What are they planning? What are the damned up to?”

Chircuck said, “Why have they started to gain more power recently?”

“How can we save the damned?” Guani said. “And how did they become the slaves to the demons?”

“And how do we stop them?” I said. “Stop the demons and their ultimate, other-worldly bosses?”

“I don’t know the answer to any of these questions,” Shenan said. “All I know is that all of us are caught up in something much larger—and much more important—than we thought. Evil is rampant in the world, and only growing. It is bent on dominating us and our way of life. There are not many others that know as much as us about what is going on.”

With a splash, Bruck stood as suddenly as he’d done before. Water dripped off of him, and he clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly. “And there is virtually nothing I can do about it. I am bound!” He turned and started to climb out of the water.

“Only on one side,” Shenan said.

Bruck stopped, looked back over his shoulder.

“Don’t be a fool. You are only bound in that you must help your master. That is only half the battle. You can help to defeat the other half. Now . . . who isn’t thinking?”

The monk turned back, slowly. “I had not considered that.”

“Clearly,” Shenan said. “And clearly, it’s obvious what we now have to do. We must fight against your master’s foe.”

“And once he is defeated?” Bruck said.

“If he is defeated. If. We can figure it out then.”

“Sounds very reasonable to me,” Wez said. Others murmured or nodded their agreement.

“Finally,” I said. “We have a real purpose to our wandering.” And that is truly how I feel.

HezekiahKurtz · Feb 16, 2007, 06:15 AM // 06:15

Colossus 72, 1275 DR

Something went off in Bruck’s head since the conversation yesterday. He’s back to his old, ornery self. In fact, just the other day Kandra and Wez and I had commented between us that in the weeks since the swamp in Istan, Bruck seemed to have become much mellower and flexible, a little less draconian and demanding. We wondered how long it would last, and each wagered a guess.

“A month,” Kandra said.

“Two weeks,” I said.

“Before we leave here,” Wez said.

It turns out Wez was right. Bruck called us together in this afternoon and sat us down on stones next to one of the cave walls, in a line, like a bunch of bad little children.

“We’ll leave tomorrow morning, before dawn,” he said. He stood in front of us, stone-faced, hands clasped behind his back. “We’ve rested long enough.”

“Too long,” I said.

Bruck shrugged and waved my comment off. “I wanted to make sure you all understood that when we leave here, I am the leader of this party. I make the decisions, and what I say goes. If you don’t follow my orders, I’ll boot you.”

“Do you expect us to cross you?” Shenan said, his voice innocent. “Why would we do any of that?”

“I wouldn’t,” I said. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

Guel snorted. “I can’t imagine that you would argue with your leader.” During our days in the sanctuary, he and I had not spoken once. We’d stayed unequivocally away from each other, and I had grown quite accustomed to the arrangement. It had not occurred to me that he would be joining our party, and I rather dislike the idea.

“I’m interested in the history between you two,” Chircuck said.

“Oh, it’s fascinating,” Wez said.

Bruck raised his voice, clearly sensing he was losing control of the meeting. “Some of you are new to the party. Chircuck—you haven’t been with us much. Guani, you only saw a few days of action with us. Guel, you haven’t been out in the open with us at all. Shenan, you only have a few days’ more experience than Guani. I only think it’s fair that I warn you now that I am the party leader. If you don’t like how I do things, I don’t want any arguments. I don’t want any whining.”

“What if there’s a better way than how you want to do it?” Guani asked.

“Tell it to me before we get into a struggle. We can discuss things then, and I’m perfectly willing to hear your opinions on matters that aren’t immediately life-threatening. But remember—I will still make the decision in the end. And once we get into a scuffle, or have made plans for an encounter, I won’t stand for someone not keeping their part of the plan, or running off and doing something that we haven’t discussed. Or that I haven’t told you to do.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Guel said. “It’s hard for most of us to have a good idea of everything going on in a large battle. If one person can coordinate everything, we’ll have more success.”

“Exactly,” Bruck said. He took a deep breath. “Now, here is what I am thinking the plan should be. We need to return to the capital. There is no question about that. We also should eventually go back to that fortress outside of your village, Guani. But I am not ready to go to either, yet. I would prefer to explore the land West, North, and East of us; I really hope to get more information about which demon we are fighting. I don’t want to go barreling into the capital or the fortress only to find out it’s a stronghold of my master.”

“About that,” Chircuck said. “What if we find out that it’s your master who is causing all of this trouble? I think at that point, I would probably need to bow out of the party. I am not willing to help either side in this battle.” It surprised me that the newest party member was willing to take such a direct, open stance with Bruck. I had been thinking the same things for weeks, but had never dared to say it.

“Same here,” Guani said.

“And you have the luxury of making that choice,” Bruck said. “You all do, and I would not ask you to help me. In fact, I foresee a day when you must all make a choice between helping me and my master, and fighting us. I will not blame you when you turn on me, but in that moment, do not expect any mercy from me.”

A ponderous, stunned silence fell over the cave. I am still shocked at Bruck’s candidness. I feel better knowing that he understands the dilemma the rest of us face, but it also frightens me somewhat. I fear that I will end up the slave of his master before this is all over.

Finally, Shenan said, “I think we’re safe for a while. I think that pink-head demon would have recognized you, Bruck, and called the attack off.”

“The same has occurred to me,” Bruck said. Pointing at me and then Bruck, he said, “Now, I need to talk with you, and you.”

Once everyone else had cleared the area, Bruck stood in front of us, his hands on his hips. I honestly felt like he was our father, treating us like two quarrelsome brothers. “Now, will you two be able to get along?”

“I’m not going to go out of my way to save him,” Guel said.

“And I can’t stop my shouts from helping him,” I said.

“I think you both can be valuable to our party. You have worked together before, and know each other’s strengths and weaknesses. I expect you to work together. You don’t have to like it, but while you’re in my party, you’ll be doing it.”

“Yes, father,” Guel said.

Bruck rolled his eyes. “Very funny. You should know that if I have to choose between the two of you, I will choose Hez, and send you packing. You didn’t particularly enjoy that little mission I sent you on last time, did you? There are worse places than there.”

“I am your humble servant,” Guel said. He bowed elaborately in mock humility.

“Very good. And by the way, I believe Hez’s story over yours,” Bruck said.

Guel gave him a long, even look. “Was there anything else?”

“No.”

The assassin turned and strode away without looking back.

“Thank you,” I said. Really, I feel a great deal of relief knowing that Bruck believes me.

“It’s true. I’ve spent enough time with you that I’m confident that you’re probably not a liar or a murderer.”

I smiled at him, raising my eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

He raised his eyebrows as well, but did not smile. “Don’t get cocky, kid.”

HezekiahKurtz · Feb 23, 2007, 04:37 AM // 04:37

Colossus 73, 1275 DR

This morning everyone had awakened and prepared to leave at least an hour before sunrise. After our long rest, even I found it hard to sleep until normal getting-up hours. We headed out West, into the Sunward, but the first mob we encountered posed an interesting problem.

It was really a simple fight, with a few Steelfang Drakes on a gradual slope. The problem was actually with Chircuck, who, much to everyone’s surprise, ploughed head-long into the middle of the scuffle, casting Balthazar’s Aura and Holy Wrath. He darted back-and-forth in the fray, switching targets often and generally ignoring the targets that Wez called. Kandra, Guel, and Guani worked around him relatively well, although the warrior actually tripped on his staff once.

“What was he thinking?” Wez said.

Before I could answer, Bruck said, “Alright everyone, let’s head back. Chircuck needs to change his build.”

“I thought I would try something different,” the Kournan said. He looked around and, seeing the dumbfounded looks on our face, explained, “I’m tired of sitting back, out of the fight.”

“You’ve got to be at least 40,” Wez said. “Isn’t it a little late to try a smiting build? That’s usually for the younger monks.”

“We’ve got enough direct damage in our party,” Bruck said. “We need you on protection.”

I don’t think I have ever mentioned it, but Chircuck is a short, slightly round-bodied and bald-headed person. Not exactly imposing. And he has never really expressed much emotion. But in the next few moments, his fists clenched and his body shook as his face turned bright read and contorted into an angry frown. For a moment, I thought he might turn on us all. “You don’t understand. Last week I lost my home and my family and my neighbors. I was not able to save any of them.”

As we considered his words, a quiet wind whistled among us, rustled the grass at our feet. In the days since our failed attack on the stronghold, he’d never once expressed pain or sorrow at what had happened. I had never really considered that he’d lost friends and family. Compassion and empathy stirred.

“You want revenge,” Bruck said.

Chircuck nodded, his eyes a picture of anger and his lips pursed into a slit. He put one hand on his stomach. “There is a burning here. I must quench it with my enemies’ blood.” He put the other hand over his heart, and his voice cracked as he spoke again. “There is a hollowness here. I must fill it with my enemies’ corpses.”

Silence, again. I wanted to step to the monk and put my arm around him. I was surprised when Shenan spoke before Bruck.

“Killing cannot fill that emptiness,” he said. “It can only cover it until time has filled it with other people and things.”

“Then that is enough,” Chircuck said.

“That’s perfectly understandable,” Bruck said. “Is this a long-term change, or just temporary?”

Chircuck shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s try it for today,” Bruck said. “At the end of the day, let’s see how you feel. In the mean time, the rest of us will need to adjust our builds; I cannot do all the healing myself. Let’s go back, quickly, and add some more defensive and healing skills. Especially you, Hez.”

So we did. We returned to the caves and made a few quick changes. When we went back out, the battles flowed awkwardly, like how a toddler walks. Chircuck took a lot of damage, and died at least three times. Bruck, apparently, has had some experience as a smiting monk, and periodically offered him tips. By the end of the day, the Kournan was noticeably better at it, although still not nearly as effective as many monks I have seen. We’ll see if he’s still interested in smiting tomorrow morning.

On another topic, but Bruck said something today that reminded me of my father. It has been a long time since I have even thought of him. We came to a narrow, rocky hill, with enemies along the right base and left base. We stopped for a minute to rest and evaluate our course. I stood behind him, so I could only see his back and the side of his face. Pointing to the left, he said, “That is the right way.”

A vision flashed in my mind of the first time I heard my father say it. After that, I heard him say it all the time, but I distinctly remember the first time I heard him say it. I couldn’t have been older than seven or eight.

I went with him on a dusty, yellow summer morning to the market, riding bowshot on the wagon and bouncing up and down, just loving being with him. I still remember his patient nodding and laughing at my incessant talking; I imagine that more than once he wanted to tell me to shut up, but instead let me jabber on and on as I imagined out loud what it would be like in Ascalon, in a big city, and asking every question that popped into my head.

We planned on selling some of the oats from our farm. About ten other farmers from the cooperative went with us, each with a wagon. Only a few had brought sons with them, and all of those boys were much older than me; I felt proud that my father would take me with him on such an important task. I remember standing at one point and looking back—we led the caravan—down a hill at the line of wagons. Each one was a little more shrouded in dust than the one before it, so that the horse leading the last wagon looked like a mist-shrouded ghost in the early golden sunlight. Strange—the things I remember.

When we got to town the men got to work setting up their stands. I sat watching, chewing on cow jerky. The men got into an argument, and I quickly saw that most of them were sided against my father. I vaguely recall that they wanted to set it up their stands differently than usual. I still don’t understand why the fight got so heated—how many ways are there to set up stands? And can one way really be that much better than another?—but at its end my father stood with his back to me, pointing to the left at one of the stands, and he said those same words as Bruck: “We’ve always done it that way because that is the right way!”

The argument quickly ended after that, with the men doing as they had always done.

broodijzer · Feb 23, 2007, 09:00 AM // 09:00

you are still awesome! when are you going to add a donate button to your site?

TomD22 · Feb 27, 2007, 03:05 PM // 15:05

Do you have an overall plan of where this is going, or are you writing it as it comes from week to week, as it were?

I'm not trying to be rude btw, it's very well-written. I'm just curious.

HezekiahKurtz · Feb 28, 2007, 05:44 AM // 05:44

A donate button? You're making me blush. I had thought to post one at the very end of the story. We'll see what actually happens.

And do I have an overall plan? Yes. Do I have every little thing planned out? No. I have major plot elements and quite a few key scenes planned out or already written. However, I am also making it up a bit as I go along. It's really a double-edged sword, as that makes it difficult to foreshadow and use other "literary" devices. However, it's also rather exciting, because it adds some randomness and unpredictability to the story--even for me. It's really quite different from other lengthy stuff that I have written. In other long pieces, I have always had pretty detailed plans from the beginning to the end. I am really enjoying that aspect of this work, but I am also frightened. I actually am playing through Nightfall for the first time as I write. I am only as far as Hezekiah. Other than looking at some world maps, I don't really know what the actual game has in store for me. I'm taking the punches as they come.

For example, I had no idea that several of these characters were ever going to show up. In fact, I originally had planned to only have Wez, Bruck, Kandra, and Hezekiah really be the party members, with a few random, unimportant characters moving in and out. But suddenly these other four people show up, and insist on joining the party. And who am I to deny them? Besides, I am enjoying them. Shenan, especially, has proven quite useful in the story, and I now have some specific stuff planned out for him, and have developed a back story for him, etc.

Thanks for the question. I hope it means you're interested in the story.
__________________________________________________ _______________

Colossus 74, 1275 DR

We spent last night in a little cemetery, in the midst of broken headstones and silent trees. I really didn’t sleep well, there among the dead and in the hollow wind. Stories of corpses rising from their graves filled me with a childish, tangible fear.

As we departed this morning, a lone traveler stopped us just outside the cemetery gate. He had a long, resolute face, and carried very few supplies. As he paused to talk with us, he paced back-and-forth, as if ready to continue on in a hurry.

“Where are you people headed?” he asked.

“Just around,” Bruck said.

“Are you going to the Blazzard Fortress?”

“No,” Bruck responded.

“Good thing. Evil things going on there.”

“What kind of evil things?”

The man shook his head. “No body knows, really. But there’s an evil feel about the place—you can’t even go near it. And shady people have been flocking there lately. Pushed the owners out, forced them to Dajkah Inlet.”

“Sounds familiar,” Chircuck said.

“In fact,” the man said, “The Blazzards are planning an assault within the next few days. I am trying to help gather people. If you’re good folk, you should join the assault. They’re gathering at the Inlet, and building siege engines to help take back their home.”

“We might just join them,” Bruck said. “We’re interested in stopping evil people.”

The man tipped his hat and continued on. We skirted along the Northern edge of the Sunward Marches. Chircuck continued to use his smiting skills; I have actually found it quite pleasant and challenging to use a build that focuses more on support than direct damage. For one thing, I certainly don’t get hurt as much. For another, using “Go for the Eyes” is great fun in a big fight, when I’ve got a lot of adrenaline. Kandra, Guel, and Guani hit almost nonstop with critical strikes. I’ve never seen them smile so much. I wish I’d discovered that skill long ago.

The Blazzard Fortress, it turns out, looks very similar to the castle in the Marga Coast, the one that we did not go near because of how it malicious it felt. During most of the day we did not draw near to the Blazzard fortress—named for the owners, according to Bruck—but the one time we did, around noon, the familiar, demonic foreboding returned. And, to my surprise, as we stood over the corpses of some fallen frog-like Hekets, in the shade of some sizeable rocks, a familiar incomprehensible whispering touched my ears very faintly. It made the hair on my arm stand up. I applied my courage, and managed not to run.

“What is that noise?” Guani asked. A slight panic edged her tone. “It’s like . . . like a hissing.”

“I hear it, too,” Chircuck said. “I think we should get away as fast as we can.”

“I don’t hear anything,” Guel said. “I think we should go in. Investigate.”

“You don’t hear that?” Shenan said, his eyes narrowing. “It’s very quiet, but definitely there.”

The assassin shook his head. He looked at the fortress with a far-away, distant glaze in his eyes. “Maybe my hearing isn’t as good as yours.”

Shenan furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. “Maybe . . . .”

“Bah!” Wez said. “This is old hat! After a while you get used to wanting to run off the nearest cliff as soon as possible.”

“I feel like that, too” Guani said. “Is it the whispering? Is it causing that feeling?”

“Yes,” Bruck said. “It’s similar to the whispering we told you about—the whispering back in the swamp in Istan. This one isn’t as strong. Clearly, we can’t go in right now, if the Blazzards feel it would take an army and some siege engines to do it successfully. Let’s try to get to the Inlet tonight. If the Blazzards have a big enough force, and enough siege equipment, it may be worth joining them.”

Wez raised his hand and shook his head. “Hey, I’m not really up for a disaster like we had at Chircuck’s place. I’d rather not be involved in storming any well-defended castles.”

“Nobody wants a repeat of that,” Bruck said. “Least of all me.”

We continued on, moving further away from the fortress. The rest of the day passed relatively uneventfully. We didn’t make it to Dajkah, but found a nice place to camp for the night, on the Eastern edge of the area.

HezekiahKurtz · Mar 02, 2007, 04:54 AM // 04:54

Colossus 75, 1275 DR

Something is going on with Guel. Not that I care much, but he’s acting odd, and Shenan is asking questions about him. First thing this morning, the assassin suggested that we just go a little closer to the Blazzard fortress, maybe try to draw a few people out. Of course, no one wanted to do that, and he simply shrugged and agreed that it was probably best. But as we continued on, over the easy, grassy hills, between the steep ridges, and under the generous umbrella trees, he looked often at the distant castle. More than once, Bruck had to call his attention to the fact that we were ready to move on.

About the time the Inlet’s towers came into view, as we strode through the afternoon warmth, away from another massacred mob, Shenan pulled on my sleeve, and motioned for me to hang back with him.

“What?” I said. “You want me to do nothing like you?” As usual, he had spent the day hanging back in battles, helping only when he deemed absolutely necessary.

“Hey now, be fair.” He gave me a half smile. “Now that Bruck has me on protection duty, I’m much busier than I’m used to. It’s hard on an old man’s bones.”

“I’m sure.”

His face grew serious. “Tell me about Guel.”

The question surprised me. My response came from my gut. “He’s a turncoat bastard.”

“How so? I mean, I understand your history—your recent history. Tell me about before. You grew up with him?”

I nodded. “We’re from the same town, and he was only a year or two younger than me. We were always friends. Got along pretty well, really. We weren’t the best of friends—that came later, when we traveled to Cantha—but it was always fun to be around him.”

“What about in Cantha?”

“You two going to help?”

I looked up, and cursing under my breath hurried to respond to Bruck’s call. I had not realized that they’d engaged a sizeable mob of boga, with a rather nasty elementalist boss leading the way. It took a little work. We had to retreat once, having to leave a deceased Guani and Wez behind. Bruck, Shenan, and I returned to bring them back and heal them as best we could without drawing any of the boga. It was about a ten minute process; the tedious kind of work associated with this profession.

Once everyone was back and we had disposed of the mob, we continued on our way. Shenan again motioned for me to hang back.

“So he was normal growing up—you didn’t notice anything funny about him?”

“He was kind of skinny and awkward until about 19 years old. Does that count? Why so many questions?”

“Was it his idea to go to Cantha?”

I shrugged. “I can’t really remember. There were five of us. We wanted to get out and see the world. In Cantha the arenas caught our attention. We were all part of the guild until it started splintering. Guel and I even talked a lot about it during that big argument with our guild master. It really surprised me when he ended up turning on me.”

“That’s the first time you remember him being . . . .”

“A bastard? Yeah.” I had not ever talked with anyone about how my friendship with Guel had disintegrated almost overnight. The months since the guild had turned on me had somewhat dulled the sting of his betrayal, but then and there, talking with Shenan about it, I felt a pang of sadness for the friendship lost. During our travels outside of Tyria, we had become such good friends. I still do not understand how or why he turned on me. Really, I can only think that for some reason he’d decided he wanted to lead the guild, and viewed me as competition. In those moments, I realized that I would love to have him back as a friend. I would be willing to forgive him if he would simply believe that losing the match and Korhan’s death wasn’t my doing.

“You were good friends, and then suddenly he turned on you?”

“What are you driving at? Why all the questions?

Shenan looked forward, directly at Guel. “You don’t think it’s odd that he couldn’t hear the whispering? That he wants to go to that castle?”

“Sure,” I said. “But I hadn’t given it much thought at all. What do you think it means?”

“Not sure.”

“Well, keep me posted.”

We arrived at the Inlet well before sunset. It’s a shabby little place. It reminds me of Yohlon Haven, with all of those refugees all over the place—except that the two hundred people here are all united under the purpose of regaining the Blazzard Fortress.

“This looks promising,” Wez said as we stood surveying a group of five half-constructed catapults and trebuchets. Teams of ten to fifteen men worked on each one, pounding and sawing and lifting.

Kandra gave him a sly look. “I thought you weren’t in favor of—.”

“I’m not. Stop it, little girl.”

She giggled and grinned wickedly. Her eyes sparkled.

Not long later, we all sat on the Inlet’s beach, waiting for Bruck to return from talking with the leader of the army, just talking and washing our feet in the chilly water. Bruck returned with his face screwed with a tight resolve.

“We can’t wait for them,” he said. “They’re planning on waiting for a week before beginning their assault. They’re waiting for reinforcements.”

“Don’t we want to find out what’s going on in there?” I asked. “It might give us a good idea for what we’ll need to do at the other fortress.”

“I’m not for sitting around and waiting,” Guani said.

“Me neither,” Bruck said. “We’ll leave early in the morning, explore the West side of the Sunward Marches, and then be back into the cemetery by nightfall.”

“Don’t you need to look for your Signet of Amplification in there?” Shenan asked.

“Yeah,” Wez said. “You took us all over the place back in Istan, into the First City and into that swamp looking for that Signet. This seems much safer than those places.”

“Things have changed,” Bruck said. “I don’t think the signet is in there. And besides, this isn’t a matter safety. This is a matter of time. We’re moving on.”

“I’m going to stay,” Guel said. “I want to see what’s going on in that fortress.”

Bruck gave him an even look. “You forget your place. I need you with us.”

Guel’s face twisted in a sudden dark rage and he jumped to his feet. He pointed a skinny finger at our leader as he stomped away and shouted, “You’re a flaming fool!” We watched in silence until he had disappeared in the crowd.

“Something’s wrong with that man,” Chircuck said.

“He’s got anger issues,” Wez said.

From my side, Shenan whispered, “You see why I am wondering about him? We need to watch him. You and I.”

HezekiahKurtz · Mar 07, 2007, 05:45 AM // 05:45

Colossus 76, 1275 DR

Very early this morning—or late last night—I awoke to darkness and someone shaking my shoulder.

“Get up!” It was Chircuck. His voice trembled with excitement, barely audible over the rumble of activity in the Inlet. “We’ve got to take the castle before the next sunset!”

In a matter of moments I was up and ready. As in Yohlon Haven, we had slept practically on the street—in the best available spot, on and under blankets. Already the town bustled with loud, confusing movement: people running here and there; hammering away on a catapult; shouts back-and-forth; lighting of torches throughout the Inlet. As I gathered up my stuff, I wondered why I was always the last one away. Do I really sleep that deeply? It didn’t take long to stand ready with my group, shield and spear in hand.

“Apparently,” Bruck told us, “word just arrived that a group of a hundred damned are headed toward the castle. They should arrive by the next sunset, if not sooner. Rohnan wants to move out immediately, and try to take the city before they arrive.”

“Rohnan?” Wez asked.

“Rohnan Blazzard,” Chircuck said. “He owns the castle, and is something of celebrity around here. I have heard of him, but never actually met him.”

That changed in the next moment, when a tall bearded man approached our group. Gray, curly locks fell down around his shoulders. He stood at least as tall as Shenan. His shiny, heavy mail and the broadsword strapped onto his back proclaimed loudly that he had taken the profession of warrior, and probably been very successful at it.

“You’ll be helping us, then?” he said to Bruck.

“Since you’re assault is today, yes. Where do you need my group?” Bruck asked. It impressed me that he was willing to let Rohnan give him orders. “We can help speed and push the trebuchets.”

“For now, spread your party as you like among two or three catapults. But as we draw near to the fortress, gather your group to me. There are no eight people in our force as strong as yours. I need you with me and my guard, and relatively well-rested for the assault. Once the walls are down, I want you and your party to join me in leading the entry into the castle.” He clapped a hand on Bruck’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re with us. It’s good to see you again.”

When he had gone, Bruck turned to us, and looked us over for a moment, considering what to do. He pointed to Wez, Kandra, Shenan, and Guel. “You four go help the first trebuchet. The rest of you will help me with the second. If possible don’t wear yourselves out too much on the catapults. There are plenty of people here who can push, but few who can lead. If possible, spend your time casting spells or using skills to strengthen those that are pushing the trebuchets. But be sure to bring along your resurrection skills, and the core of your builds. We’ll need them once the walls fall.”

Not ten minutes later, after we had positioned ourselves at the catapults we were to help move, a hush fell over the inlet as Rohnan appeared on the roof of a building, where everyone could see him. His armor glinted angrily in the torchlight, shone with an unearthly red tint. People shhhh’d each other, and once the place had fallen silent, Rohnan spoke.

“Equip skills that speed and that strengthen—we will need them to push these devices up hill. Once we get there, you will receive word on where to position them, and when to begin firing. The first target is their trebuchet. Once that is down, the objective is to tear down the outer wall—we don’t want to bring the whole castle down if we don’t have to. We want the courtyard to be exposed on a wide scale. We want no bottlenecks. Once we have accomplished that, we will advance and retake our home.”

He paused and took a look at his force. I stood close enough that I could see his eyes reflecting torchlight as they swept back-and-forth across the crowd. “Like the rest of you, I don’t know why they have taken our home. I don’t know what evil force drives them. Beware the whispering evil, and the death wish it will place in your heart. Do not pay it heed, but be diligent and strong in holding your courage fast. Remember that right now we outnumber them two-to-one. By the end of the day, may we outnumber them two-hundred-to-none. Let no foe live. Let no blade stay unbloodied. Let no evil thing breathe!”

A roar erupted from the crowd. Men and women of all professions brandished their weapons high into the air. The first trebuchet lurched forward.

I would characterize pushing (or pulling, via a few ropes) those gigantic things up the hill as “nasty business.” It really took all the effort of at least twenty people to move it at any decent speed, with several more clearing the path before it. Since each trebuchet had about forty people associated with it, the pushing duty rotated frequently, and those who weren’t pushing or pulling were casting skills to help the others. I must have cast Make Haste two hundred times today. The darkness didn’t help, although it also didn’t damage our efforts too much. We must have forged ahead for at least four hours before dawn.

By then we had a good idea for the speed we could travel at, and figured we would probably reach the fortress around mid-day, putting our total time at about ten hours. I would have said that reaching the fortress from the inlet, traveling at a rapid speed in a straight line without any interruption, would take at least half a day—six or seven hours. Making that journey, pushing such enormous devices as we were, in just ten hours is really quite impressive.

Throughout the day, Rohnan moved among the groups, which were strung out a few hundred feet in a straight line. He offered encouragement and updates to plans. He openly discussed options and contingencies, and outlined the possible scenarios that we might encounter once the battle reached full heat. He reviewed with us what the damned might do, and instructed us on how we should react in each case. He praised our hard work, celebrated the coming victory, and told tales of heroism that the day would see.

“He is very confident,” I commented to my three party members.

“I would follow that man anywhere,” Chircuck said. “If he led us into the vortex, against an army of demons, I would go with him.”

At mid morning a group of about twenty figures appeared at the top of a distant hill. They stayed there, watching us. It was then that I started to hear the whispering, and to feel the accompanying dread. It stayed with me throughout the rest of the day, growing stronger the closer we got to the fortress.

Rohnan sent for our party, and we joined him at the front of the group, ready to engage if we needed to. There were only about fifteen of us, between our party, Rohnan, and his guard. But Rohnan and his guard certainly looked formidable enough, in their elite armor, and I don’t think it would have been much of a struggle for us to take out a mob of twenty. Unfortunately, they retreated long before we reached them.

“Must have been refugees,” Guani said.

“They’ll certainly know we’re coming now, if they didn’t before,” Rohnan agreed.

Sure enough, when we reached the fortress its walls were lined with men facing us. They fired the first round from their trebuchet long before we were in range, as if testing it out. The catapult was positioned inside the courtyard, out of sight except for when its lever swung around and hurled the rock.

“That catapult has good distance on it,” Rohnan said to us. “And it’s very accurate. It will take some luck on our part, or stupidity on theirs, to not take out several of ours before we take it out.”

The whispering had grown louder and more unmistakable—but no more understandable—as we had drawn closer to the fortress. At that point, it took a conscious effort for me to ignore it, to not turn and run. Honestly, I was surprised that not a single person in our army gave in to the whispering and retreated. A rare group, certainly.

Rohnan sent orders down the line for the trebuchets to line up in a row facing the castle, staying out of range in the process. Once that had happened, he gave the command to push forward. It took about ten minutes of pushing before we were in range of our enemy’s artillery, which started to fire every minute or so. With each shot, it came closer and closer to hitting our left-most engine. Gigantic rocks whistled through the air, and with thundering booms ploughed mighty troughs into the ground. One hit the ground at a low enough angle that it simply bounced and rolled down the hill another hundred feet before stopping. Finally, on the fifth shot, the projectile grazed the top of the catapult, breaking one of the side supports, and causing the device to crumble. The people around it scrambled away.

“We’re close enough,” Rohnan shouted. “Fire at will!”

I watched mesmerized as two elementalists at the nearest catapult worked together at a blinding speed to fire the first catapult. Theirs was the first to send a rock shooting into the air, at a high arc. Before it hit, three more had followed it. In rapid succession the four boulders hit, one on the outer wall (causing several damned to fall backwards off of the wall), a second just in front of the wall, a third inside the courtyard, and the last against a the fortress’ highest tower. The air shook with the force of the impacts.

I have never seen catapults like the ones we had, and had been wondering all day how they worked. A team of two elementalists did all of the work. The first, an earth elementalist would cast a series of skills I am not familiar with—but which Shenan said he knows—that would pull a sizeable chunk of dirt from the ground, transform it into rock, and then drop it into the catapult’s sling. The second elementalist, using an air skill, would release a skill that had been holding the catapult’s counter-weight in the air, causing the beam attached to the sling to rotate at a very high speed and hurl the rock upward and outward. Immediately after, the air elementalist would use another skill to re-lift the counterweight to the prescribed height. By then, the first elementalist would have another stone ready, and the process would continue. Before a minute had passed, the elementalists closest to my party had fired three shots.

Another shot flew out of the castle, tumbling and turning in the air. A few arrows accompanied it. It seemed pitiful next to the four boulders heading toward its origin, and more pitiful when it landed a good fifty feet away from any significant target.

After our next volley—our third—the distant sound of splintering wood, and the faint cry of an unfortunate person or two, told us that at least one of our rocks had struck its target. A cheer rang out along our line.

“Now, take the wall!” Rohnan commanded.

Stones roared through the air in quick succession, a constant, steady stream as if the operators of the four catapults had planned it like that. One—striking the wall square in the middle, causing the damned to disappear as they scrambled off the wall. Five seconds later, another—punching a hole right through the wall. Five seconds later, a third—clipping the topmost bulwarks. Five seconds later, the fourth—missing the wall but taking out a hapless refugee. Then a stone from the first hitting the wall again, and so on. The artillery pounded against the castle wall continuously, almost with a musically precise rhythm. The numerous arrows that floated from the other side of the wall were hardly noticeable in the racket; I doubt any of them did any real damage to any of our army.

The army started a cheer, which would rise in volume and pitch after each rock struck, and then end with a shout as another stone hit. I joined them, and with each cry the adrenaline rose in my blood, and the terror from the whispering receded just a little. In fact, the whispering could not be heard over the din, which alone brought a fascinating rebirth of hope. I started to beat my spear against my shield, pausing at the end of each cry. The action quickly spread down the line. We would clamor for four seconds until the moment when the rock would strike, and then our voices and our equipment would fall silent, and we would listen to the glorious crack of stone against stone, and then start up again. I do not remember a time I have ever anticipated engaging the enemy like then. Victory over evil was certain. How could it get any better?

It could not have been more than five minutes before only a sliver of the wall remained standing, and we could see into the courtyard where the hundred or so damned stood together, weapons ready. Practically laughing from the sheer enjoyment, I turned to gauge my party members’ expressions. All of the others, except for Bruck, seemed caught up in the moment, shouting and banging their weapons and armor. Bruck stood mesmerized, his face blank and one end of his staff touching the ground behind him.

From behind me came another boom as a boulder crashed into the castle wall. I turned to see as, with a rumble that shook the ground, the last piece of the outer wall crumbled. Cheering absorbed the sound of the rumble, although I still felt it in my chest.

I turned back to Bruck, and stepped close to him, wondering what his problem was.

“The end began here,” he whispered, his lips hardly moving. His eyes stared at nothing. “Good separated from evil. So many battles and blood. Whisperings covered the land. Fire in the sky and on the earth.”

I thought of the Cliffs of Dohjok and what Bruck had spoken there. He had stood in the exact same way then, had spoken in a far-off, vacant tone. But I knew that we didn’t have time to sit and wait like we had that day. Glancing behind me, I saw Rohnan organizing his guard. He would begin the change any second now. Turning back, I stepped in front of the monk, grabbed his elbows, and shook slightly. “Bruck!”

Awareness filled his eyes and his body stiffened. He yanked his arms away and stepped back. “What are you doing?”

“Rohnan needs us!”

And, in fact, in the next second, Rohnan—who stood just a dozen feet ahead of us—looked directly at Bruck and I, grinned, and motioned for us to follow him. He did not wait, but turned and ploughed forward, his guard close behind him. The other members of our party ran at his heels, Guel practically passing him.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yes! Get going!”

There is not much to write about. It probably only took ten minutes. The damned put up very little fight, and stood no chance against our tide of steel. Really, as we had already learned about them, they were mostly every-day people, with a few experienced warriors spread among them. My party, Rohnan, and his guard pushed through them as if cutting down stalks of corn.

Only one thing is really worth mentioning. Inside the fortress, in the deepest room, men reported finding a creature of unimaginable appearance. They told of the intense fear it inspired in them, and the darkness that surrounded its vein-covered body. They said it had an over-sized head, stumpy arms and legs, and practically no torso. It tried to scramble away, leaving a thick slime along the floor behind it. When they pierced its body with their blades, it sent a shockwave out from its form, knocking them backwards and over as it disappeared.

All of us—every one of us in Rohnan’s army—knew the exact moment when it was killed. We may not have seen it happen. Most of us didn’t ever even see it. But we felt it. A cheer like nothing I have ever heard—filled with relief and pride and righteous victory—range through the air. Indeed, at that point, as Rohnan had hoped, we outnumbered our foes two-hundred to none.

HezekiahKurtz · Mar 09, 2007, 05:26 AM // 05:26

Colossus 77, 1275 DR

The refugees that were supposed to arrive at the fortress last night—the hundred reinforcements that spurred our early morning march from the Inlet—never arrived. It’s just as well. No need for another slaughter like yesterday’s. Not that I feel the slaughter wasn’t unfounded—they stole the homes of many people, fought to keep it, and even resisted us after the wall had fallen and it was clear they stood no chance. If we had let them, they would have killed us. I simply feel bad for them. For whatever reason, the demons gain influence over people, and somehow control them to do their bidding at any cost. They aren’t warriors. They aren’t trained. They’re just everyday people thrown into a combat situation. And when they come up against a trained force like ours . . . . It’s just like I wrote—a slaughter.

Anyway, the refugee reinforcements never showed up, and as Chircuck said last night, “Somewhere out there, there are a hundred of these damned just wandering around.”

The night passed uneventfully. This morning we actually milled about for quite a while, watching as Rohnan’s people worked to clear the rubble and boulders from the courtyard. Others began arriving—the families of those who lived in the fortress with Rohnan. The process of rebuilding and readjusting had already started.

As our party gathered in the late morning, in preparation to leave, Rohnan approached us.

“It was good to have you with us,” he said, passing a grin around the group. “Even if we probably didn’t need you. Thank you for your help. I know this wasn’t your fight.” Looking back at Bruck, he continued, “Now, I must speak with you in private for a moment.”

The two of them stepped a few dozen feet away and put their heads together. The rest of us generally ignored them, but before long Wez called my attention to Bruck, who was motioning for me to join he and Rohnan.

Once I had stepped to their sides, Bruck asked, “Have you ever known Guel to not engage an enemy?”

“What?” I said. “I don’t understand.”

“Yesterday,” Rohnan said, “when we entered the courtyard here to kill the thieving refugees, did you see what Guel did?”

I shook my head; I had been too caught up the moment to notice anything but those immediately next to me.

“He just stopped,” Rohnan said. “Dead in his tracks, just before we reached the enemy line. Stopped and stood there. I don’t know that he lifted a blade the entire fight.”

“Have you ever seen him do anything like that?” Bruck asked.

“I can’t imagine why he would. I’ve never seen him hesitate to draw blood.”

“I asked my men about him, and many reported seeing him just standing there through most of it. By the time he moved, the fight was about over.”

I said the first thing that popped into my mind. “Was the demon controlling him?”

“It must have been trying to,” Bruck said. “I think if the demon had been successful at controlling him, he would have turned on us.”

“Unless it had a reason not to make him do that,” Rohnan said. “I don’t think there’s any question about what’s going on. It’s only a matter of time before he turns on you.”

That time wasn’t today. Our travel through the rest of the Sunward Marches, with Bruck always marking his map, and Chircuck still trying to adjust to smiting, couldn’t have been more mundane. We met no exceptional mobs, and Guel exhibited no unusual behavior. We settled down in the Cemetery; the same place where we slept four nights ago. Tomorrow, we head North.

HezekiahKurtz · Mar 14, 2007, 03:51 AM // 03:51

Colossus 78, 1275 DR

Today we traveled through Turai’s Procession in an approximate M-shaped pattern. It’s a dry, forbidding area, infested with heket and djinn. I am glad to be done with it, tonight, and in the more hospitable northern part of Jahai Bluffs.

Around mid-morning we stopped in the Gate of Desolation, a tattered, ancient fortress slowly being consumed by the desert sands. The air there feels ancient and smells stale. The blocky fortresses and elegant towers are like bones of the earth exposed once, long ago in raging battles, but now being slowly encased back into the earthy flesh. I am not sure why anyone would live there, other than the specters bound by mortal trauma, but a few people do. A film of sand covers each of them, as if so many days in a windstorm had permanently affixed the grains to their skin, clothing, and hair. Just thirty minutes there, and I’d had enough.

After we had been there or about twenty minutes, Bruck sat cross-legged on the ground near the exit to the Sulfurous Wastes, looking at his map in quiet solemnity. The other party members were elsewhere.

“Don’t you ever get tired of that map?” I asked him, standing to his side and peering into the waste. An ungodly stench of sulfur floated from that direction.

“Was I ever fond of it?” he said.

I sat next to him, thinking that perhaps he would like some company. I wasn’t sure how he would take that, but thought I would try anyway. In a slight gesture of welcome, he shifted the map a little so I could see it. I had caught glimpses of it before, and knew it was a map of Kourna. Red ink labeled significant landmarks, and black outlined areas and their names. Thin green lines showed our path through each of the areas we’d already explored, with finely-penned notes regarding the names of bosses we’d encountered, or friends we had met. There were plenty of areas to the East and South that we had not yet explored.

“From here we could go North,” Bruck said. He placed a finger where we were on the map, and then circled a blank area above and to the left. “But I don’t know that I am so keen on going into the Desolation just yet. Besides, I am not sure if our foe is there. Its power base seems to be down here.” He tapped the city we’d tried to originally dock in. Referring to our current location, he continued, “The merchants here have told me that many refugees have passed through, all of them heading South. We can always come back here later. We’ll have to, eventually.” He said it with a grim resignation, like a slave recognizing that he would have to obey his master’s command.

“Do you ever hope to be free?” I said.

He grunted a short, bitter laugh. “My life is over. Even if I do ever find the Signet of Amplification, I will still be the slave to the other-worldly being.”

“I guess it wouldn’t release you, then?”

“Why would it? I guess it may kill me then—for sport—or give me another task. The only way I can be free is if it is destroyed. And I do not know how that would happen without all of its followers dying in his defense.”

“Do you think you’ll ever find the Signet?”

He shrugged and looked vacantly into the distance. “I carry a Signet of Capture with me at all times. I have been everywhere and killed about any kind of beast or boss you can imagine. Shenan has seen and done more than me. But I have to believe it’s out there somewhere. Tell me something.”

“Yes?”

“These refugees. These damned. Why do they obey the demons?”

Caught off-guard by the sudden change of topic, I stammered for an answer, but came up with nothing. I had wondered the same thing. A few members of my party and I had talked about it, but come to no conclusion.

“They obey without question, with completely blind abandon. Those ones back at the Blazzard Fortress had to know they were going to die. Yet not one surrendered or threw down a weapon.”

Half joking, I said, “Maybe Guel could help us out on that one.”

Bruck raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know if that’s something to laugh about. Sooner or later we’re going to have to decide what to do with him. You might consider trying to make peace with him before that happens.”

“Why bother.”

He shrugged. “For the sake of peace, if nothing else. Maybe you could save him. He obeys me out of honor. I don’t think the refugees obey the demons out of honor, but out of compulsion. There will be a time when his compulsion outweighs his honor.”

“Are the demons magically compelling them? Like how you’re compelled? The whispering—is it a spell?”

“Perhaps. But if so, why does the magic compel some, and not others? Blazzard gathered an entire army of people who could hear the whispering—as far as I know—but who did not fall under its magic. It’s people like them that are our only hope. But how do we find those people, and how can we tell who they are?”

“I have no answers.”

Brock gave me a thin, understanding smile. “I did not expect you to.”

We left not long later, traveling quickly through the rest of the Procession, and reaching the Bluffs well after dusk had fallen. As my party members wandered off to their blankets, one-by-one, I waited, hoping for a chance to talk with Kandra alone. Sure enough, eventually just the two of us sat there in the darkness, looking at the smoldering embers in the make-shift fire pit. Their red glow touched the curves of her face, lit the edges of her hair. I wondered with hope if she had waited up to be alone with me, too.

“I remember the first time I saw you,” I said.

Without looking at me, she smiled. “That must have been traumatic.”

“I thought you were an amazing paradox.”

“Is that so?”

“In battle you were so aggressive with your blade.” A slight breeze stirred the ashes in the fireplace, rustled through her hair. She shivered, so I seized the opportunity to sit next to her, close enough that our shoulders touched. “And yet, once the battle ended, you were so reserved and quiet. Not at all the same person.”

She laughed quietly. “No. I’m not really the same person in a fight. Somehow, all of my shyness and reservations disappear. I guess life-and-death situations bring out the beast in me.”

“You talk like you’ve thought about it a little.”

“Oh, I have . . . a little. I love it, really. Sometimes it’s nice to be able to not be so shy. Battle seems to be the only time I can. I just can’t help it, otherwise.”

With my heart pounding, and my mouth as dry as the Desolation’s wind, I touched her knee gently. She stood so quickly that it made me jump. Without looking at me, she started to walk away and said, “I’m tired. Good night!” In only a moment I was left alone, wondering if I’d made a drastic mistake. Even now I’m turning over a hundred things in my head. Did I simply surprise her? Did her shyness get the best of her? Is she not interested me in the slightest?

I guess I’ll just have wait and see how she acts in the morning.

Koross · Mar 15, 2007, 07:41 AM // 07:41

Awesome read! Truth to tell, I was pointed to this thread from the post in the website.

I shall chant with everyone: more, more, more!

HezekiahKurtz · Mar 18, 2007, 03:50 AM // 03:50

My apologies for no entry on Thursday. Some technical issues with GW messed me up. Instead of textures on the ground, I was getting all-white terrain, and massive framerate drop. I hope the issue is resolved, now. ArenaNet's tech support really is top notch.
__________________________________________________ _________________

Colossus 79, 1275 DR

Today has reminded me why, when I first arrived here in Elona, I decided to become a cartographer: to see amazing places. With the cresting of every hill and the rounding of every bend, the Jahai Bluffs area has presented me with something new and different to wonder at.

In general, the lay of the land is similar to most other areas in Kourna: long, gentle slopes punctuated with sudden hills, all of them spotted with elegant, wide trees. But more striking than the natural beauty was how the people here have built their homes into the land. People populate the area densely, with at least five or six settlements scattered across the face of the area. One—a towering castle at the top of a ridge, with a domed spire at the top. Another—blocky, stacked structures built right into the cliffs near a misty waterfall. Two others were similar to Guani’s village, although smaller.

But the most magnificent—and intimidating—was the fortress on the Northern edge, which we only saw from a distance. Walls and ramparts reach to the highest peak of the mountain. Towers jut from the steep slope of the mountainside, hanging as if only with the aid of magic. Really, my meager words cannot describe the way it made me feel. Perhaps it is best to say that it made me feel like I felt when I was a child, and went to Ascalon for the first time. Awe. Simple Awe.

We avoided the castle, since the damned have demonstrated a habit of taking over places like that. And sure enough, as we passed through the other villages, the people confirmed that some of them had been forced from the castle, that refugees now occupied the space. Some spoke of taking the castle back, but wherever they spoke, three or four people from Arkjok Ward—the area to the South, where Chircuck is from—spoke of the disaster that happened there. Those people, also refugees now, looked on us with angry, accusing eyes as they recounted that they had not been able to return to their town. With steely tones they told how, when they had sent people to investigate, they discovered their entire village burned, with the damned now living in the rubble. They dare not return.

“We will retake that land,” Chircuck muttered under his breath. I thought I caught the glisten of a tear in his eyes. “It will be our home again.”

Tonight we are staying in the village near the waterfall. The people here—accepting us only after a great deal of questioning from inside their homes—tell us that the fortress is not occupied by damned. At least, not by any organized group of damned, although it teems with refugees. Bruck plans to investigate tomorrow, and head to the next area to the North.

***

The most amazing thing just happened. I am quite shocked, really. I was sitting here alone, at the base of the waterfall in the fading sunlight, writing in my journal, when Guel approached me. He did not smile and did not sit. I made no effort to welcome him.

“Tell me something,” he said, his voice gruff.

I did not respond, but looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“That castle back in the Sunward Marches. Was there really whispering?”

“No, Guel. Three hundred of us made it up.” Remembering Bruck’s advice to try and make peace with the assassin, I immediately regretted my sharp tone and sarcastic words.

He growled at me and shook his head. “I didn’t hear it. I don’t understand.”

“Did you hear anything at all?”

“No. I just—. I can’t explain it.”

“What, Guel?”

He shook his head, turned, and walked away with long, steady strides. I have no idea what to think of that.

***

I nearly forgot one more thing. After last night’s fiasco with Kandra, I rather avoided her today—as much as I could while being in the same party with her. But she seemed fine. Did not act as if anything unusual happened last night. I will have to try and speak with her soon to gauge her feelings. To me, mine are clear. I hope to find out how she feels.

HezekiahKurtz · Mar 21, 2007, 04:17 AM // 04:17

Colossus 80, 1275 DR

A pride of lions attacked us today. I have never actually seen a lion before, and rather felt a little remorse at having to slay a few of the famous beasts. I would have liked to keep a pelt or two, but we didn’t really have the time to stop and skin them.

We traveled up into the first streets of the Fortress of Jahai. I can only describe it as an eerie experience moving up through a throng of passive damned; the last few groups of damned that we encountered were aggressive and ready to kill—I had forgotten about the ones at Yohlon Haven, or in the boats surrounding Gandara. Other than their inexplicable need to get to a city, or to be on the move, those refugees acted like relatively normal people. The same held true for those that packed the Fortress of Jahai. We had to practically push our way up and through them as we made our way up the narrow streets.

There were hundreds of them there, lined up along the walls—some alone, some in families or distinct groups. If they weren’t talking or playing any number games together, they really weren’t doing anything in particular. Just milling about aimlessly. Like the refugees in Yohlon Haven, they looked as if they hadn’t bathed in months, and eaten in nearly as long. I thought again of the sanitation problems so many people in one place must be in danger of experiencing. Really, being in their midst eliminated much of the awe I felt yesterday when seeing the Fortress from a distance.

“Does this make anyone else nervous?” Wez asked. We were nearing the top, where a troop of Kournan elite guarded a closed gate. “What’s to stop them from turning on us at any second?”

“That’s the wrong question,” Shenan said. He walked next to me, in the rear of the group. That morning he’d warned me to keep a close eye on Guel. So far, the assassin had done nothing out of the ordinary. “The right question is, why aren’t they already turning on us?”

Bruck, who led the party, turned back and gave us a sour look. “Well, don’t give them any ideas.”

“Yeah,” Chircuck said. “Best to just act like one of them.”

The Kournan at the top of the street ordered us to stop and turn back. Further passage was blocked, they said. Bruck started to question them—which made me nervous. The situation seemed dangerous enough without him pushing anyone over the edge. Finding myself suddenly standing next to Kandar, but not quite ready to be near her, I moved to the other side of the group and positioned myself near Guani. She stood leaning on her staff and watching the crowd anxiously.

“Haven’t spotted him yet?” I asked. It was more idle conversation than anything. I am sure we will all know the moment she sees her brother.

She sighed and shook her head. “I am starting to loose hope. There aren’t many more places to look, really.”

“What will you do once you’ve looked everywhere?”

She shrugged and shook her head again. “I don’t know. I may go home. I may continue on with you all. I rather enjoy it.”

I watched the crowd with her until Bruck gave up his interrogation—I think at Wez’s insistence—and with a wave of his hand ordered us to follow him back down the steep street. Nothing unusual happened until we reached the end of the cobblestone road.

“Don’t you think,” Guel said, “we should just stay here?”

The rest of us stopped and turned to look at him. He stood right on the last few stones of the street, as if unable to take another step forward.

“We’re going to Rilohn Refuge,” Bruck said. “We have no reason to stay here.”

“Sure we do,” the assassin said.

Bruck growled and rolled his eyes. “And what might that reason be?”

Guel furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. “Well. Uhm.” He cocked his head to one side. “Maybe we don’t. But it sure seems like a good idea to stay here, even if for only a day. It’s a nice place.”

Wez guffawed. “You’re crazy.”

Shenan back-handed the ranger’s stomach gently. “You just feel like staying?” he asked the assassin.

“Sure.”

“Well, we’re not going to stay,” Bruck said. “Now let’s go.”

“No!” Guel’s angry shout startled Chircuck, who jumped slightly. “I want to stay!” He put his hands at his hips, on the hilt of his daggers.

In that particular moment, I happened to be standing between Bruck and Guel, and when I turned to look back at Bruck, to see what he would do, my eyes met his. He raised his eyebrows, widened his eyes, shook his head slightly, and raised his shoulders as if to say, “I don’t know what to do about him. I’m tempted to leave him.” For some reason I couldn’t let that happen. Maybe it was Bruck’s admonition to make peace with my former friend. Perhaps it was the odd encounter last night. Whatever the case, I felt like I should try to help Guel—because if he stayed there, it would only end badly for him. I turned back to the assassin and stepped close to him. He looked down at me with hard, unflinching eyes.

“Guel,” I said quietly. “Just come with us. There’s nothing for you here.”

“And why would I listen to you, traitor?”

Honestly, it took some effort not to defend myself against the accusation. “Guel. You have to trust me. You don’t want to stay with these people. Do you remember the demon we saw back in Arkjok Ward, when you joined our party?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” he said between clenched teeth.

“You know what it does—the demon was controlling those people. They were probably all killed in the wild.”

“This place isn’t the wild. I would be among friends, here.”

“We’re your friends,” I said, motioning at the others.

“They may be, but you aren’t.” His eyes—now softening—belied his words. His tone—now dropping—betrayed his frown.

“That’s fine. Whatever. But we were friends once. Good friends.” I nearly said that I had no hatred for him, but wasn’t sure if it was true. “I don’t want any harm to come to you.” It surprised me to realize that that was true. “Those other damned—the ones in the Sunward Marches. They were slaughtered. I don’t know what’s in store here, for these refugees here, but the track record of other refugees doesn’t bode well for them.”

“But . . . .” he said. “It just feels right. Staying here—it would feel right.”

“How many times did we say to each other, ‘if it feels right, don’t do it’?”

He laughed, as suddenly as he’d turned angry, before. “You’re right. We have said that, haven’t we?”

I turned and took a step away from the street, and looked back over my shoulder. “Let’s go.”

He swallowed hard, and raised one foot. I am not sure how long he kept it there, just inches from the soft dirt, but eventually he did lay it down. The next step came more easily, as if he’d broken free of invisible fetters.

Nothing of note happened the rest of the day.

HezekiahKurtz · Mar 27, 2007, 03:13 AM // 03:13

I am not getting any comments from anyone. No problem. As long as I see the number of views going up every day, I will keep posting.
__________________________________________________ _________________
Colossus 81, 1275 DR

Without a word to anyone, Guel disappeared during the night. After we conducted a thorough search of the camp, and verified with one person that had seen him leave in the night, Bruck cursed for a solid minute.

“I can’t say I’m very surprised,” Shenan said.

“He was more trouble than he was worth,” Wez said. Kandra, who stood closely to him, rolled her eyes, and shook her head.

“He was good in a fight,” Chircuck said.

“He must have gone back to the Fortress,” Shenan said. “Should we go get him?”

“No,” Bruck said. “No point in it. It was a miracle Hez got him to come with us yesterday. I guess honor is no match for demon magic.”

I don’t really know how to feel about his departure. Relief. Worry. We have known each other for a long time—not that being friends for so long does a lot to erase how he killed me back in Istan. But he is still a lifelong friend. If he would believe me—that I did not betray the guild—I would frankly forgive him.

When I was twelve, one of my buddies—Mhnenlon—showed up one day with a rope. A good, solid rope—the kind we’d always wished we could use to swing under the bridge that passed over the river near Ashford. He said he’d taken it from his dad’s stable, that no one would notice it was gone for a day.

It was fall—the time of year when the river scale are out in force. About six of us—including Guel—walked up the road, throwing rocks at the scale to scare them off. Every now and then one would charge, and we’d have to flee. But in general, they’re mellow creatures and six of us could frighten one or two off without much trouble. When we got up to the bridge, we had to chase some more off with sticks, shouts, and stones. A brood caller was a few hundred yards off—they’re much more aggressive than your average scale, and I suggested that perhaps it wasn’t a good day to swing from the bridge. I envisioned the brood caller moving down the river with a couple dozen scale with her. In such a case we would not be able to chase them off. Indeed, our lives would be in danger.

They laughed at me. I suggested that we go over to the millpond and just dive off the rocks—it would be safer. “That won’t be nearly as fun,” Guel said. I persisted, but they would not listen. Four of the guys hefted a large stone over to the bridge, tied the rope around it, and threw the rope over the edge. They had a great time for a couple hours, swinging, diving, swimming. At one point, Guel shouted over to me, “Come on! It’s fun! The water feels good!” I just sat and watched, laughing with them on occasion but generally keeping an eye on the brood caller. She moved further away, closer, further away. By lunch I had forgotten about her, and saw her coming too late.

I jumped up and yelled at them to run—and all of them did but Mhnenlon. He was swinging and couldn’t get back to the shore without dropping into the water. The brood caller charged along the bank, calling other scale to her side. They swarmed behind her. He struggled to climb the rope, and slipped. I remember looking back over my shoulder just in time to see him dangle for a moment by one hand, and then drop into the crowd of snarling scale beneath him.

As we walked home, I said to Guel, “Doesn’t feel so good now, does it?” That’s when we first started telling each other that if it feels good, we shouldn’t do it.

Of course, our fathers beat us half to death. I remember mine standing over me, there in front of our house, belt in hand. The sun shone directly beneath his head, so he was nothing but a dark shadow outlined in brilliant yellow light.

“How could you be so stupid?” he said. He raised the belt again.

“I told them we shouldn’t do it!”

His arm stopped there, at the peak of its motion. “You what?”

“I told them it was too dangerous!”

“You knew it was dangerous, but still let them do it?”

“They wouldn’t listen to me!”

His hand lowered to his side. The end of the belt rested in the grass. “You knew the right thing to do, and let them do the opposite?” He grunted, stared at me for another moment, and then turned away, shaking his head.

******

Anyway, we missed Guel today. We certainly had to adjust our combat strategy to compensate for his missing damage, and a few times right at first the entire party nearly got wiped—the terrain just North of Rilohn Refuge is rocky and convoluted, with many places for mobs to hide. The stony pathways wind in and out of dark arches, from above and beneath. It’s hard to tell exactly where one path will lead you, and which path will lead a mob to you. Monsters ambushed us a few times, and we found ourselves retreating or fighting off two mobs at once. The first time it happened, only Bruck survived to retreat and resurrect us once the mobs had moved on. The second time, I had to flee with just a little bit of strength left. Fortunately I had not yet used my Sunspear Rebirth Signet. Situations like that make a fellow nervous.

Once we had adjusted our tactics, though, we did fine, and spent the entire day clearing out the Floodplains of Mahnkelon. Quite an impressive fortress rests in the center of the area. We heard last night that quite a large body of Kournan Elite recently took over the Mahnkelon Waterworks. Rumors had it they had come directly from Gandor, and that they were recruiting for some kind of assault. Bruck wanted to find out what the hubbub was about, and so after clearing the floodplains and verifying that not a single creature had a Signet of Amplification, we sought entrance to the damn.

Sure enough, a battalion of Kournan Elite occupied the castle. They were an edgy group, only admitting us once we’d agreed to enter one-by-one. Bruck went first, of course. I was the fourth, and did not enjoy the search they conducted of my person, or the relentless questioning I went through. They sat me down on the floor in the center of a small, square room, with a soldier in each corner and a fifth drilling me about why I was there. They did not seem especially satisfied with my assurances that I was simply trying to become a cartographer, and seemed concerned that I was Tyrian. Eventually, though, they relented, and let me rejoin my party members, all of whom were already together. The soldiers led us to what they called the “civilian quarter”: a crowded square with another few hundred people, many of whom looked to have experienced many dangerous battles.

“What was all that questioning about?” Guani asked. “I have never been so humiliated in all my life. I had to tell them more than once to take their hands off me.”

“They were a bit grabby, weren’t they,” Kandra said, her face dour.

“Did they hurt you?” Wez asked, his voice sharp and angry.

“No, no,” the warrior said, patting him on the shoulder.

“I am not sure what’s going on,” Bruck said. “But they have agreed to let me meet with their commander in the morning. Hopefully we’ll get some information.”

By then it was late, so we found a comfortable place to sleep near one of the walls of the civilian quarter. I needed ink and parchment for this journal, so found a nearby material trader. I can’t believe the price they’re charging a bottle. 230 gold. Ridiculous.