(stale readings)
Sky: Clear
Air: Cold (one inch)
Conditions: Cleared snow
My first night's sleep as a free man passed uneventfully, thank goodness, for although I knew it not when I awoke, the day would be filled with strife.
We made for the common room of the inn to have some breakfast and perhaps plan our next move against this Rettoraxil, the villain my new companions seek to thwart. While were lingered, Puck took up with some gentlemen of dubious manner; the others called them members of the Society of the Handshake, but unless things have changed more than I reckon in the past two years, they were from a Thieves Guild or similar dark league. They seemed to set themselves against - or at least not in favor of - the local slave trade, through which halflings are bought and sold like cattle. I know not for what reason, but they gave Puck information on the slave auction that day and some allies we might find there - abolitionists of some sort, I gathered, but savvy enough to be useful in our struggles. We determined to attend the market.
There was a great wide arena prepared next to the keep itself, with a stage adjacent for displaying the poor small souls on sale; the rest of the enclosure was fulled with a teeming mass of people, all angling and arguing and deal-making in the way of mercantile crowds anywhere. Archers in two tall towers watched the crowd intently. We tried to park the cart along one wall, out of the way, and were immediately pestered by urchins who sought to make off with any goods not tied down or guarded.
Puck found the contacts described by the rogues at the inn: a sacred knight in gleaming armor that seemed to glow with its own light, so highly had its owner polished it, and some small, dark fellow, who always seemed to be in the shadows and was hard to get a good look at.
Puck made parley with the woman, who seemed righteous and strong and (ironically) not terribly bright, but who eventually understood that we meant to make mischief for Kharsis and Devohn and agreed to aid our cause, at least so long as it matched her own crusade against the slave traders. She appeared to speak for her umbral companion, and so it seemed the compact was made.
The parley took all morning, while a slave was being sold it seemed it each minute; at the luncheon break, the guards herded everyone out of the arena for a staged entertainment: several halflings were set to running across the arena, perhaps promised freedom if they could make an exit. All of them were cut down in a hail of arrows from the guards. The crowd roared its approval as each bolt struck home. It was horrific.
The next bit is somewhat of a muddle. As the crowds re-entered and the afternoon auction began, Puck seemed to be trying to make entrance to one of the towers, with the aid of Aldwin; Mel and I drove forward in the cart, but found ourselves swept under in a tide of thieving children, who all but dismantled the cart from under us; the shining paladin, whose name was Lux, and her dark companion, who I heard her call Braegel, joined in the general melee as guards fired into the crowd, people ran and fled, and chaos reigned. Suddenly, we were called into the keep by none other than Devohn himself - who was the selfsame whip-wielding dwarf from the Shaegrove battle and the chief slaver-lord. He seemed to guarantee safe passage and wanted to truck with us. We six entered the gate of the keep, escorted by a phalanx of guards, and the portcullis lowered wearily behind us.
In an eerily pastoral scene - a formal garden and fountain - we formed a tableaux: Devohn afoot and Kharsis on a warhorse faced us and demanded the Stones from my companions. Puck taunted them in return, and for a moment, the tension hung in the air like a nigh-severed sheet holding on by its last fibres. But, of course, the line broke, and the battle was joined.
We were beset from all sides: Kharsis and Devohn faced us, guards harassed our rear, and archers took aim at us from the high towers. Fighting madly, we vanquished the guards and killed Kharsis; that would seem like the start of victory, but Devohn's accursed giant eagle once more swooped down to drag his master from danger and Kharsis's warhorse, acting on instinct or training or who knows what, retreated from the field of battle with his master still in the saddle. I managed to delay him some with a spell of distraction, but only for a moment.
We wound up fighting our way through two barred doors, more guards, and a clutch of desperate halflings before we could once again face our nemeses. After entering a closed room of the keep, the horse must have vanished; we found only Kharsis, in aspect like a zombie and protected by a shimmering curtain of magic force, and a foe new to me, who my companions later identified as Bedwyr. This last foe - cleric or necromancer or wizard, I know not - seemed to turn into a puddle of goo and disappear into the floor, only to re-appear elsewhere to wreak damage. We fought him gamely and must have been too much for him, for all at once he fled the field and we were alone with Kharsis.
Some end-of-life conversion must have come over the prince, for he seemed amenable and beneficial. He confessed to having murdered Erochoel, and told us that the Stone he held was false - that while it was enough to consolidate his control over the city, Erochoel had held possesion of the Stone e'en beyond death: it was buried in chambers below the keep and so fiercely guarded that he and Devohn had never dared seek it. With the sound of and angry mob outside, he urged us to undertake that very task for ourselves, turning a mechanism that opened a door into an underground passage. With the choice of being discovered with a dead regent by his loyal and angry subjects or facing the unknown and getting closer to a Stone, the path was clear: down we went.
We fought our way past traps and over a rope-bridge; Braegel caught the worst of trap his eye missed and began losing strength quickly. That deadly door let us to a collection of chambers - two libraries and an well-appointed alchemy lab - that seemed hospitable but haunted.Torches blew out, my companions and I began hearing vices murmuring imprecations such as as "sleep" and seemingly answering questions muttered under the breath. We tarried for a while, then moved on through the next door.
That was a mistake.
Several powerful undead creatures awaited us in a fairly close room, immediately responsive to our presence with extreme aggression and hostility. They were horrible, filthy figures, lashing with sword and claw, and draining vitality and potency with each blow. Brave Aldwin, foolish Aldwin, raced into the middle of a pool in the center of the room, and was almost immediately brought down. If not for the incredible bravery of Lux, who at no small peril to herself raced in and dragged him out, he would have perished for sure. In the end,we made a fighting retreat and resealed the door.
Licking our wounds, we explored to rooms more thoroughly. I found a brew already steeping in the lab, and tended it along; Puck examined the tomes in the library, and apparently in some sort of trance, found a helpful text and two spell scrolls that I think will help restore some of those of us who have been diminished by the undead fiends. As awful as this place in, we have no choice but to rest here for the night, regain some strength, and make a plan of attack for the room. It is unpleasant, but wise. Tomorrow will come soon enough.
It feels odd and sad to so soon have the stars removed from my view; even as a bondsman, I at least had the heavens wheeling over me each night and window though which to watch them. Down here in this cave, this dungeon, this tomb, I must strain to feel the space wind and hear the song of the skies. But I can, faintly, and that will be enough.
The Logbook of Lucretius Dincum
All entries warranted to be complete and accurate in full accord with the High Seas Compact and Professional Sailor's Code, as amended.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
123.25 W | 44.35 S: Be careful what you wish for
Sky: Clear
Air: Cold (two inches)
Conditions: Deep snow
I was hoping for some excitations upon my release from bond; I found them sooner than I had imagined, even ere I had quit the manor. Let me set it down aright:
During my bondstime, my Lord Bendakar often had me cast the stars for him. I learnt to put as little work into it as possible, for it takes no little effort of calculation, and most of the time the act was merely for the amusement of his friends. He did, however, rely on my meteorological forecasts, so I did spend considerable genuine time with my charts and tables and instruments.
About a week before the end of my bondstime, while reading the stars for what I thought would be my final weather report, the numbers coalesced into meaning far beyond simple rain or sunshine: it was clear the stars were telling me that travelers were coming, travelers who would bear some sort of rock or stone or jewel of great power. I had never gotten this sort of message from the stars afore; I don't know if I ever will again. I passed this news along to my master Bendakar, and a feeling of dread overcame me, for when I did he showed that thin smile he gets whenever he begins to scheme and plot for power and self-preservation.
The next days passed and I hardly saw Bendakar; he seemed to have already dismissed me, having prised this gem of information from my scrolls, but he would not let me leave a moment before my due time. Although he had no intercourse with me, he was busier than ever: messengers came and went, and he secreted himself in his study for hours at a time, sometimes alone and sometimes in conference with some emissary whose cloak and hood could not cover the clank of armor. I tired to put it all out of my mind and concentrate on my imminent freedom, but even two years of living with his duplicity and dishonor had not prepared me for the palpable pall of dread that descended over the house.
After breaking fast on my last morning at the manor, I prepared to quit the house as soon as Terce was struck. As I gathered my goods and said goodbye to the few servants with whom I had cordial relations, I saw Bendakar in huddled conversation with some knights of Staywood and another man-at-arms who was a dwarf. I overheard scraps of conversation that led me to believe that he was setting some sort of trap: I discerned that he planned to lure the travelers whom I had foretold into the manor, have them set upon by the duplicitous knights (who seemed to have some bone of their own to pick with these strangers) and their companion, and separate them from their stone of power.
I retired to my room to contemplate. No stars were visible through my window, of course, but a sliver of moon rising gave me focus for my meditation. When I caught myself muttering in an Uncommon Tongue under my breath, I knew I had made a decision.
I grabbed my pack and made my way to the pantry off the visitor room. As I set my burden down and readied myself, the clash of arms rose from the other side of the door, and I realized I was too late to warn the strangers: the battle had already been joined. I threw the door open and leapt into the fray.
Immediately the situation presented itself to me: three Staywood knights were attempting to advance a crowded phalanx into the cluttered room at swordpoint, supported by the dwarf knight armed with the unlikely combination of tower shield and whip. They faced opposition from a determined but disadvantaged crew of four: three were unarmored and all were under-armed, wielding saps, sticks, decorative swords from the statuary, or nothing at all. Just like too many times in the past, I rushed in as reinforcement to the losing side. I doubt that my arrival alone was the cause, but the tide soon began to turn. The battle became a blur of images.
The nimble, loud fellow I came to know was called Puck was jumping like a fox among hounds, lashing out this way and that with a small sap, striking fingers and knuckles and disarming his enemies time and again.
The half-elf called Aldwin fought not with blade or fist, but with some little kind of arcane fire-magick, and the room began to fill with the stench of scorched flesh.
A halfling whose name I did not discern seemed to be dancing through the battle, doing little damage but causing a great distraction.
The large man called Mel strode into the conflict waving a pot-metal scimitar taken from the decoration in the corner like it was a warlord's greatsword: the damage he paid out began to match his courage when the halfling rolled under a table and hoisted to him a stolen Staywood longsword.
I joined in with iron and magick; it was good to feel the starlight coursing through my veins once more. Fighting alongside these four, I knew that even if this were my last fight, my life after the bondstime would have been a worthy one.
Clearly, it was not my last battle. The knights began to fall and the dwarf to lose resolve. A shower of glass from the skylight announced the arrival of a giant eagle into the room; I discerned immediately that he was the dwarf's mount, come to retrieve his rider. The halfling seemed to sense the same circumstance, for he began to fire what I can only assume were poison darts from some sort of small blowgun at the bird; his companion Mel called to him to stop, and I saw in his eyes he thought the bird could belike come as an ally. It was not so; the bird grasped the villain and flew him out, and even my starry burst could not stop him.
All the other knights were dispatched but we had little time beyond that which it took me to heal some of the wounds the party had suffered: it appeared the manor was ablaze. It was not from Aldwin's flame that the inferno came; it had spread too far and too quickly to be from anything other than deliberated arson. I have seen scuttled ships doused in oil and pitch catch more slowly.
We ran from the house, me barely having time to grab my pack, the little halfling picking locks on doors that barred our way -- someone had meant us to burn even if we survived the knights' attack. I immediately thought that Bendakar had outdone himself in perfidy, until we found him outside.
He was dead, a stake driven into his chest, pinning a note to him that read See you in Wayfinder's Keep. Two gems had been shoved deep into his eye sockets.
My companions seemed surprised but not shocked, and immediately sprang into action. Puck and the halfling raced back to Shaegrove, saying something about collecting their goods and weapons. Mel started to don the armor of of one of the fallen nights he had dragged from the house in our flight. Aldwin and I, we watched the house burn. Thoughts of entry passed through our minds, but the flames grew and spread with such speed it was impossible.
Puck and the halfling returned with a cart, some horse, and many goods - clearly this party had been active - and tales that anyone in the village who had dealt with them had been found dead, with gems stuffed in their eyes in a manner similar to Bendakar. We all made haste to put some leagues between us and Shaegrove, for clearly an evil had descended on the village.
Before we could depart, there was a tender and moving scene. From what I could tell, the halfling had chosen this moment to part ways with his comrades, as some sort of duty or destiny was pulling him in another direction. This was clearly a blow to the group - it seemed that he was the very heart and soul of their comradeship and that his absence would be sorely felt; I believe that each and every one of them shed a tear, whether openly or covertly, when their diminutive companion announced his decision. As the halfling left, I determined to make myself a member of this party and feel for myself that camaraderie I had missed these past two years.
The remaining trio seemed glad to have me; I mounted the cart and we passed through the now-deserted commons. A piece down the road, we paused to develop strategy and share information. As we did so, a common stone fell from high in the sky and landed in our midst. Through some spell, it grew a mouth and spake in a braggart's tone: Looking forward to seeing you in Wayfinder's Keep, boys! It's taken you long enough!
Again, my companions seemed to take this unusual occurrence if not in stride then with measured response, and determined to continue on to the Keep. Along the way, they apprised me briefly of their past and their mission: heroes (for their exploits had earned them the name) gathering five sacred stones, of which they already had three (I thought of Bendakar's greed and smiled), in order to fight some villain named Rettoraxil, who was using the power of the god Rahkin to upset the balance of the world and perhaps even bring about its end. They were heading toward Wayfinder's Keep to find another stone, the selfsame one the Lord Kharsis held as symbol of his suzerainty over the Keep. They believed it possible that Devohn, Kharsis's right hand, might actually be one called Bedwyr, and old friend turned foe, one of the legion serving Rettoraxil, and the one who made the stone to speak with his voice.
We passed an uneventfulvoyage journey to the Keep, during which I found tucked in the seat of the cart a few pages from journal of the halfling, whose name I found was Kaleb Mixleplik. We easily made through the gate of the town with a bribe and stopped by the first inn we came to. We passed the evening in contemplation of our next move; our last thought, just before I began to script these words, was that tomorrow morning we take the fight directly to the inner keep, confronting Kharsis and Devohn and whoever else might do mischief there, regardless of whether they had laid traps or were waiting for us. Who knows, it might even work. But for now, to bed.
Air: Cold (two inches)
Conditions: Deep snow
I was hoping for some excitations upon my release from bond; I found them sooner than I had imagined, even ere I had quit the manor. Let me set it down aright:
During my bondstime, my Lord Bendakar often had me cast the stars for him. I learnt to put as little work into it as possible, for it takes no little effort of calculation, and most of the time the act was merely for the amusement of his friends. He did, however, rely on my meteorological forecasts, so I did spend considerable genuine time with my charts and tables and instruments.
About a week before the end of my bondstime, while reading the stars for what I thought would be my final weather report, the numbers coalesced into meaning far beyond simple rain or sunshine: it was clear the stars were telling me that travelers were coming, travelers who would bear some sort of rock or stone or jewel of great power. I had never gotten this sort of message from the stars afore; I don't know if I ever will again. I passed this news along to my master Bendakar, and a feeling of dread overcame me, for when I did he showed that thin smile he gets whenever he begins to scheme and plot for power and self-preservation.
The next days passed and I hardly saw Bendakar; he seemed to have already dismissed me, having prised this gem of information from my scrolls, but he would not let me leave a moment before my due time. Although he had no intercourse with me, he was busier than ever: messengers came and went, and he secreted himself in his study for hours at a time, sometimes alone and sometimes in conference with some emissary whose cloak and hood could not cover the clank of armor. I tired to put it all out of my mind and concentrate on my imminent freedom, but even two years of living with his duplicity and dishonor had not prepared me for the palpable pall of dread that descended over the house.
After breaking fast on my last morning at the manor, I prepared to quit the house as soon as Terce was struck. As I gathered my goods and said goodbye to the few servants with whom I had cordial relations, I saw Bendakar in huddled conversation with some knights of Staywood and another man-at-arms who was a dwarf. I overheard scraps of conversation that led me to believe that he was setting some sort of trap: I discerned that he planned to lure the travelers whom I had foretold into the manor, have them set upon by the duplicitous knights (who seemed to have some bone of their own to pick with these strangers) and their companion, and separate them from their stone of power.
I retired to my room to contemplate. No stars were visible through my window, of course, but a sliver of moon rising gave me focus for my meditation. When I caught myself muttering in an Uncommon Tongue under my breath, I knew I had made a decision.
I grabbed my pack and made my way to the pantry off the visitor room. As I set my burden down and readied myself, the clash of arms rose from the other side of the door, and I realized I was too late to warn the strangers: the battle had already been joined. I threw the door open and leapt into the fray.
Immediately the situation presented itself to me: three Staywood knights were attempting to advance a crowded phalanx into the cluttered room at swordpoint, supported by the dwarf knight armed with the unlikely combination of tower shield and whip. They faced opposition from a determined but disadvantaged crew of four: three were unarmored and all were under-armed, wielding saps, sticks, decorative swords from the statuary, or nothing at all. Just like too many times in the past, I rushed in as reinforcement to the losing side. I doubt that my arrival alone was the cause, but the tide soon began to turn. The battle became a blur of images.
The nimble, loud fellow I came to know was called Puck was jumping like a fox among hounds, lashing out this way and that with a small sap, striking fingers and knuckles and disarming his enemies time and again.
The half-elf called Aldwin fought not with blade or fist, but with some little kind of arcane fire-magick, and the room began to fill with the stench of scorched flesh.
A halfling whose name I did not discern seemed to be dancing through the battle, doing little damage but causing a great distraction.
The large man called Mel strode into the conflict waving a pot-metal scimitar taken from the decoration in the corner like it was a warlord's greatsword: the damage he paid out began to match his courage when the halfling rolled under a table and hoisted to him a stolen Staywood longsword.
I joined in with iron and magick; it was good to feel the starlight coursing through my veins once more. Fighting alongside these four, I knew that even if this were my last fight, my life after the bondstime would have been a worthy one.
Clearly, it was not my last battle. The knights began to fall and the dwarf to lose resolve. A shower of glass from the skylight announced the arrival of a giant eagle into the room; I discerned immediately that he was the dwarf's mount, come to retrieve his rider. The halfling seemed to sense the same circumstance, for he began to fire what I can only assume were poison darts from some sort of small blowgun at the bird; his companion Mel called to him to stop, and I saw in his eyes he thought the bird could belike come as an ally. It was not so; the bird grasped the villain and flew him out, and even my starry burst could not stop him.
All the other knights were dispatched but we had little time beyond that which it took me to heal some of the wounds the party had suffered: it appeared the manor was ablaze. It was not from Aldwin's flame that the inferno came; it had spread too far and too quickly to be from anything other than deliberated arson. I have seen scuttled ships doused in oil and pitch catch more slowly.
We ran from the house, me barely having time to grab my pack, the little halfling picking locks on doors that barred our way -- someone had meant us to burn even if we survived the knights' attack. I immediately thought that Bendakar had outdone himself in perfidy, until we found him outside.
He was dead, a stake driven into his chest, pinning a note to him that read See you in Wayfinder's Keep. Two gems had been shoved deep into his eye sockets.
My companions seemed surprised but not shocked, and immediately sprang into action. Puck and the halfling raced back to Shaegrove, saying something about collecting their goods and weapons. Mel started to don the armor of of one of the fallen nights he had dragged from the house in our flight. Aldwin and I, we watched the house burn. Thoughts of entry passed through our minds, but the flames grew and spread with such speed it was impossible.
Puck and the halfling returned with a cart, some horse, and many goods - clearly this party had been active - and tales that anyone in the village who had dealt with them had been found dead, with gems stuffed in their eyes in a manner similar to Bendakar. We all made haste to put some leagues between us and Shaegrove, for clearly an evil had descended on the village.
Before we could depart, there was a tender and moving scene. From what I could tell, the halfling had chosen this moment to part ways with his comrades, as some sort of duty or destiny was pulling him in another direction. This was clearly a blow to the group - it seemed that he was the very heart and soul of their comradeship and that his absence would be sorely felt; I believe that each and every one of them shed a tear, whether openly or covertly, when their diminutive companion announced his decision. As the halfling left, I determined to make myself a member of this party and feel for myself that camaraderie I had missed these past two years.
The remaining trio seemed glad to have me; I mounted the cart and we passed through the now-deserted commons. A piece down the road, we paused to develop strategy and share information. As we did so, a common stone fell from high in the sky and landed in our midst. Through some spell, it grew a mouth and spake in a braggart's tone: Looking forward to seeing you in Wayfinder's Keep, boys! It's taken you long enough!
Again, my companions seemed to take this unusual occurrence if not in stride then with measured response, and determined to continue on to the Keep. Along the way, they apprised me briefly of their past and their mission: heroes (for their exploits had earned them the name) gathering five sacred stones, of which they already had three (I thought of Bendakar's greed and smiled), in order to fight some villain named Rettoraxil, who was using the power of the god Rahkin to upset the balance of the world and perhaps even bring about its end. They were heading toward Wayfinder's Keep to find another stone, the selfsame one the Lord Kharsis held as symbol of his suzerainty over the Keep. They believed it possible that Devohn, Kharsis's right hand, might actually be one called Bedwyr, and old friend turned foe, one of the legion serving Rettoraxil, and the one who made the stone to speak with his voice.
We passed an uneventful
124.45 W | 38.85 S: First Entry, Last Day
Sky: Clear
Air: Cold (One inch)
Conditions: Deep snow
It feels good to move the pen across the page and once again record my movement through the world. Of course, I haven't moved yet; my bondstime does not officially expire until Terce tomorrow, and until then I am still trapped on the grounds of this manor. Lord Beldakar will not allow me the grace of an early departure, even though he has no use of me any longer. One more night will not kill me, not after so many nights wasted watching the stars from the same spot every day, like a becalmed vessel.
Becalmed. To be calmed. That is why my cousins sent me here, to learn to control the wildness within, the wildness that came not from the stars but from the spaces between. And that I have done - in a manner, to an extent. Enough if this calm. Tomorrow I put this place and Shaegrove behind me and once more seek emprise and geste. I hope I can find some.
Air: Cold (One inch)
Conditions: Deep snow
It feels good to move the pen across the page and once again record my movement through the world. Of course, I haven't moved yet; my bondstime does not officially expire until Terce tomorrow, and until then I am still trapped on the grounds of this manor. Lord Beldakar will not allow me the grace of an early departure, even though he has no use of me any longer. One more night will not kill me, not after so many nights wasted watching the stars from the same spot every day, like a becalmed vessel.
Becalmed. To be calmed. That is why my cousins sent me here, to learn to control the wildness within, the wildness that came not from the stars but from the spaces between. And that I have done - in a manner, to an extent. Enough if this calm. Tomorrow I put this place and Shaegrove behind me and once more seek emprise and geste. I hope I can find some.
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