Re: Journal Entries


I know it would surprise many of my readers, but some days of my life have passed quite quietly, with little to chronicle. Others might seem as though they had, but in truth, held great importance. One such was the single day we spent at the ill-fated town of Mallowroast, which we had been hired - too late - to save from an unknown menace.
For the librarian who may wish to catalogue my memoires in order, then, allow me to set the stage. This parchment continues my first venture, as began at the Melodious Hymn in Bartertown, with my meeting of such fascinating people as Baraak Kruul, Jyon Twinblade, and the mysterious na'a'g'rul T'skrang called Black. It picks up after our encounter with the Therans!, wherein we had emerged victorious and released fully a half dozen captured slaves - including our own Ronia the Scout!
The remainder of that day indeed was one of little excitement, although certainly there had already been excitement enough! (See Calypte the Swordsmistress vs Omandras the Nightking I, for the thrilling details!) Much of the adventuring life is spent in walking, and sometimes that walking is through mud. It would be easy to read of my life and think it all to be glittering swordplay and arcing sprays of blood, but remember, I am in truth a real person, little different from you. If you should be among the few inclined and empowered to follow in my footsteps, perhaps the second most important recommendation I can make - after a fine blade, of course - might well be a sturdy, comfortable pair of simple boots!
It doesn't sound very glamorous, I know, but if you want to look glamorous when you get where you're going... you have to think about these kinds of gritty details.
So, we walked, and in all fairness to Liara the Liar, she made a point of being very helpful in our journey. She saved us a good hour at one point alone, where the road had completely washed out into a pit of mud, and she was able to use her Illusionist's powers over rope to get one across and tied to a treestump on the other side. Eventually, we found a small, unoccupied cave, and made camp.
Everybody was exhausted, and I was still carrying a heavy wound from that lucky shot by the Theran leader. Ronia had gone her own way, and I had sent Jyon and Rowan back to escort the prisoners, but there were still five of us. Baraak, Black, Sandra, Liara, and me. Normally, that's enough to set a pretty solid watch schedule. You can even get by with four, if you have to. A team with only three people, though, had best plan on a few extra hours resting each day... and a pair is probably better off not setting a watch at all, and give their attention to hiding themselves better.
To all practical purposes, we were down to three. Sandra was also still hurt badly, and walking an uphill mountain road in sometimes hip-deep mud hadn't helped either of us. Neither of us was going to be any good for the evening watch, or to wake up in the middle. We might have been OK by morning, when our bodies had some time to heal, but if I'd been looking at us from the outside, I wouldn't have planned for that either.
In fact, if it I hadn't been a little delerious at that point, I'd have planned just what I said: Take an extra couple of hours in the morning. I'd have put Black on first watch, because he's reliable, and wouldn't fall asleep even if he was tired; had him wake Liara a little before midnight, because elves have the best night eyes, and Illusionists doubly so. They could have stood watch together for a few extra hours; then Black would go to sleep, and get Baraak up. Ork thieves are also perfect for the night watch, so the two of them would be great; after a while, Liara could have gone to sleep, leaving Baraak to finish out the early morning. By then everybody'd have had some rest, and would have woken best if it had proven necessary, see? You get two watchers through the darkest part of the night, when somebody's most likely to nod off, and make do with one at the beginnings and ends, when the sleepers will wake easiest and the watchers are most reliable. Then you go a little later so Black and Liara can both catch up; if Sandra and I were OK when we woke up, maybe Baraak could even get a half hour nap or so before moving out.
But it wasn't me. I have to admit to kind of collapsing at that point. Black helped, offering Sandra and me his cloak. He has the kind of cloak they wear in the mountains, so it's really warm, and softer than I bet he'd like people to think. When I woke up in the morning - feeling very much better, I might add, between Black's cloak and one of Baraak's booster potions - Black was still awake, standing right where he'd been. Somebody had built a small fire in the cave, and I think Baraak and Liara had taken more reasonable turns at watch...but it looked like Black had stayed up all night.
It's not that it wasn't very sweet of him, but it was going to cost us. He'd be walking slower, and thinking slower, all day. At least once Sandra and I were up, he took our spot and fell asleep. Don't tell him I said so - I've crossed blades with Black (see below!), and we'd have to do it again if he heard this - but he's cute when he's asleep. Like a scaly teddy bear, with little twitches and growls. I'll tell you, some Therans were faring very badly in his dreamland!
Anyway, I went out to find some food. The mountains of Throal are pretty rich in wildlife, and it didn't take me long to find a nest of rabbits out feeding after the previous day's rain. I don't feel bad about hunting, mind you. Rabbits have as much right to live as anybody, but so do we, and everybody has to eat! (Of course I've read the famous scroll in the Spire of Knowledge, by that Nethermancer who said Horrors are just hunting us like we, or any predator, hunt other animals, and we shouldn't blame them. I don't pretend to understand how Nethermancers think, but I wait until my rabbits are dead before I skin them. And even if it is true, I don't ask my prey not to defend itself, so I don't see why that would mean we shouldn't fight the Horrors with everything we have.) I stopped when I had enough for everyone, of course - which was also after Blackstar the Martyr, which you can probably find somewhere, maybe in a bound edition of Calypte's Tales for Children.
So everybody ate, and we gave Black some time to sleep. It was a little bit of a later start than I liked; we weren't going to get to Mallowroast until late, maybe not even until the next day. But it was a beautiful day, and hard to be upset, and after the day before with all the rain and the drama and the Therans, I think we all wanted to relax a little bit. We even talked a little as we walked, and I did my Karma Ritual. (Every kind of Adept has their own, of course, and every Adept does it their own way. But as one of the most active of the Disciplines, I think Swordmaster's have a little bit of an advantage being able to do ours on the road.)
Which is how things stood when the small black raven swooped down and started pecking at us! If it had been a magpie, I'd have thought it just liked my tassles, but it was pure black, and it went for Liara, too. And then it flew off, squaking and cawing. It was Sandra who recognized it. How anybody can recognize one black bird from any other I don't know, but she remembered one being around Ronia, from the day before. Well, it sure looked like somebody was in trouble, anyway, and I'm not one to ignore someone in need!
So we all turned off the road, and followed the raven. As we went, we became more and more sure that's what it wanted, as it seemed to be stopping to make sure we could keep up, and then taking off again when we got closer. Ravens are pretty smart birds! And sure enough, pretty soon we found Ronia, up on a ledge on a cliffside, surrounded by three cave trolls!
Cave Trolls have a bad reputation, and most of it's deserved, but not all of it. They're not animals. They're Trolls, just like the Sky Raider Clans. Well, not just like, I do think they're generally simpler, but they're still people. They are savages, though, and they do eat other Name-Givers, and that's what they had in mind for Ronia. Sandra turned all wooden, which I've always thought was a great Talent. It wouldn't be for me, of course, but it's neat to watch. We went in, and I made sure to call their attention away from Ronia, and towards us!
Of course, a wild melee ensued, with Ronia dropping from her ledge and joining in. Cave Trolls are strong, but not very fast and not too bright. I'll say none of them landed a single blow against me, but not everyone did so well. Sandra, who fights in the Warriors' Way, took several hits, and I saw Korentin fly several feet from one heavy shot from the side. But it was right after that that he and I finished off the last one together. Liara found a higher spot to look around, and warned us there were four more coming, so we set off to get back on track. We'd come to rescue Ronia, afterall, not to slaughter their whole tribe!
I was getting worried about Sandra, so I talked to Baraak about giving her another of the booster potions he'd picked up before we left Bartertown. He passed one on to her, and I think that helped a lot, but she still looked pretty bruised. One of the rules of duelling - one that comes to mind a lot watching Black fight - is that before you hit hard, you have to hit at all. Swordmasters play on that a lot, and we learn how to stop our enemies from making that first crucial step. Warriors are different; they can take hits like nobody, especially when they use Talents like that Wood Skin one, and they learn to wear armor without letting it slow them down so they can take even more...but they take them, all the same, and that brings a lot of them down in the lower Circles.
Sure enough, it was pretty late when we finally made it to Mallowroast, but considering how many diversions we'd had, I think we made pretty good time. We were met by a smith named Malcolm, and a group of concerned citizens, but once they heard who we were, they welcomed us in. Everything seemed normal, but as we all know, seemings can be very deceiving!
We were taken to the inn, and offered food and a chance to rest. Some of us went to the rooms offered to clean up, while some of us stayed downstairs to get some food. I was one of the ones who went upstairs, to the room I'd be sharing with Liara and Ronia, so I missed what happened in the common room. But when we had just started settling in, one of the serving girls knocked at the door, to tell us the others had left, following somebody's dog.
OK, so the raven thing had worked out pretty well, but you have to admit, that sounded strange. None of us HAD a dog. So I figured there had to have been something about it to get them to follow. Liara and I left off what had been shaping up to be a very interesting conversation about teamwork, and the three of us set out to find out what that might have been. The robe and grimoire we'd claimed from the Therans, along with my pack, got left in the room, and if you've done much reading you'll know I wouldn't mention that if it didn't turn out to be important. We'd gotten plenty of warnings about being out after dark, of course, and that was sooner than most people might have liked, but Adventurers are a different breed!
Which is why when Ronia found their tracks, and we followed them only to see that they led straight to the cemetery, a little way out from town, our pulses only quickened with anticipation! Sandra met us just outside, and said she hoped we had brought a torch, because deep inside the cemetery they had found a wide pit in the ground. Not a grave, by any means - this was ten feet across if it was an inch, and descended down into darkness! Fortunately, we had thought to bring one along, because it was getting dark out. When we got back, Baraak and Black had already disappeared into the darkness.
You can bet I didn't wait for an invitation - I jumped right in, and landed at the bottom, ready for anything. Now, I can hear the Swordmasters reading this nodding, and everybody else asking why I'd jump when I couldn't see the bottom. At least, Vergil would have. You have to understand, Swordmasters are always ready, for anything. And we're always in training, because that's the only way to be the Best. So faced with the unknown, the best way to learn is to jump right in, and be ready for everything! I could have landed on a loose bones, or soft dirt, or even stone, rough or smooth. I had to be prepared for any of those on the way down, and I had a split second to figure it out and land right, in the dark.
To some people, that sounds like a broken leg, but to a Swordsmistess Extraordinaire!, it's just part of an ordinary day.
As it happened, it was a pile of soft dirt, on top of packed earth. The pile slid as I came down on it, but I shifted my stance a bit and kept my balance just fine. The pit was at the end of a mysterious tunnel, extending out towards the town!
Ronia climbed down a little more carefully, while Sandra and Liara stayed above to secure the exit. At least, that's why Sandra stayed; I've never been sure what Liara was thinking. Ronia, who had revealed herself back at the Inn to be a bonafide Scout, moved a little ahead of me, and soon we heard whispering voices ahead. Knowing the two boys had already come down, that was a lot more promising than the clash of steel, and we soon came upon Baraak and Black, who had met up with a handful of strangers...who looked fresh from battle.
It happens, and mostly it's a good thing, when more than one group of Adventurers happens upon the same danger. Of course, the only reasonable thing to do is understand you're all there for the same reason, and team up. But there's always some inevitable paranoia - I mean, when you've just met a group of people in a dark cave under a cemetery of a Horror-plagued town, you can't just assume they're on the right side. But you can't just assume they're not, either, or a lot of the wrong people get killed.
These turned out to be Grell, Mirrel, Arakan, and Narlinda. I list Narlinda last because we didn't really meet her - she was unconcious, being carried, and heavily wrapped in a cloak. Black is probably the most paranoid bastard I've ever met. It's just one of the qualities I've learned to appreciate about him. Even standing there in a tunnel, completely unarmored (you can guess correctly that he'd left much of his gear back at the inn, too!), he wasn't about to let them pass without at least some idea who all of them were. After a little bit of tense negotiation, they agreed to let me take a quick look at her. I have a way with people, you know, and can often set them at ease even in those kinds of circumstances!
She was an elf, for sure, but she was covered in thorns. Like, not wrapped around her, but actually coming out of her skin, and dripping blood. Well, I'm not ashamed to admit this was the first I'd seen anything like it...but some stories had come to Throal. Dark rituals in the Elven Court of Wyrmwood; how Queen Alachia's famous Wooden Kaer had failed. Everybody had different ideas on whether they had been left open to the Horrors, and become twisted servants to something darker than fear, or if they had twisted themselves as some kind of bizarre defense...but "twisted" is always part of it. Setting eyes on one, I can see why, but oh, it's painful to behold. The beauty of the elves is still there, brought out even more in stark contrast to the wrongness of it. [And as long as you're looking up my Tales for Children, you can find Narlinda the Rose there, too, and know that she's the one it's Named for.]
Well, I'm not sure this vouched too strongly for the wisdom of letting them out, but it told us something, and she was definitely unconscious. I said it was OK, and we all went back to the bottom of the pit, to climb back out, this time using a rope Ronia threw up to make it a little easier. (Scouts are also always prepared, but in a very different way than Swordsmasters. Some people find the differences between Disciplines frustrating, but I think it makes for some great teamwork! Of course, that's some of what I'd been talking about with Liara, earlier, in a way.)
Once in the light, Grell revealed what the other bundle they'd been dragging along was: Some kind of giant spidery Horror-creature, that the four of them had fought and defeated. Passions, I wished I'd been there half an hour earlier! The dog turned out to be Grell's, and named Heero, which I liked. I had to admire the timing in sending Heero out to find people. If he hadn't stumbled on us, he'd have been bringing townsfolk, who probably would have gone a little slower, and gotten there just in time to find them triumphantly out of the pit.
In any case, once we sorted ourselves out a little, we learned that both Arakan and Narlinda are Horror Stalkers, which is pretty much the one Discipline that even we Swordsmasters think is a little suicidal. The few who live long enough, though, have done truly great deeds, and I'll admit it's a line of training I've even thought about myself. But I think it's not something anybody should start out with - get some grounding, first, even if you're a natural-born Stalker, so you can survive the initiation period! More importantly, he already knew a little bit about Omandras...though as it was night already, we quickly determined it would be safer to share information about that after sunrise.
Mirrel is a Troubadour; a beautiful T'skrang, with scales the colors of sunsets and autumn. It's a rare color for T'skrang, and they find it as magnificent as we do. She cares deeply for everyone around her, too, quickly showing a heart as lovely as her scales.
I didn't find out, those first days together, just what Grell did, though I knew he was an Adept of some sort. He was working for Arakan, almost as an apprentice might, but Arakan's reactions to it suggested it was a little less formal than that.
Unfortunately, because of what Narlinda is, and because people know so little about them and the stories (and the reality!) is so frightening to most, the town wasn't safe for them. Korentin had noticed a little cabin or something off the road on the way here, so we decided to take them, at least, there. Probably all of us, for tonight, as their information suggested the town might not be a safe place to be asleep anymore. It seemed the corruption from the Horrors had spread, and most of the town was probably already lost!
And that, more or less, is how our night in Mallowroast should have ended. The barn turned out to be occupied by a trio of Orks, who were just passing through and had decided to stay there rather than risk the reception Orks sometimes get in small towns so far north. They welcomed us in and were very kind, but they were seeking some kind of anonymity, so all I will say of them is that the reception Orks sometimes get in small towns so far north is very unfair, and I wish them the best. I hope someday I can repay their hospitality - even if the barn didn't belong to them, they offered their space, their warmth, and their food.
But things are so rarely so simple, in the life we chose. First off, Arakan had a supply of healing potions and some gear he had hidden in the forest; Mirrel and Grell went to find that, for Narlinda was very near death and needed their curative powers badly. Apparently, something, or someone, had found them first...but left them alone, only gathered them up. Which certainly was suspicious, but whatever was to come of it, wasn't to come that night.
For first watch, we set myself and Liara; Arakan stood, too, and one of the three orks, so each group had at least one person awake. It's a shame people can't trust each other more, but we'd all only met within the past hour, so friendly as everyone was, nobody knew anybody else. Liara said she was going to stand outside, to better use her eyes. I took a post by the door, to listen, and to watch over everyone inside.
And I wish I could say I was more surprised when, less than an hour later, Liara was gone. See, we'd had some things from the Theran Elementalist - a robe, and his grimoire - and although they were fair spoils for the group, I'd already seen Liara looking at them like she wanted them for her own. I'm not going to say anything like, You know how Therans are, or, We should have known better than to trust an Illusionist, because those wouldn't be true. (Well, you might know how Therans are, but I didn't - just their reputation, and reputations aren't always true. Especially when you take the reputation for a whole group like that and use it to judge just one person.) This was just how Liara was.
She came back about an hour later - a pretty long time, since we were only ten minutes outside of town, and the inn was pretty near the edge. I met her outside; there was no need to wake everybody up for this. She didn't even try to pretend she hadn't been gone, which surprised me a little, but apparently things hadn't gone the way she'd hoped. The Horror who had claimed the town had started killing people, and we were getting blamed. Of course, this wouldn't be a coincidence, especially when most of the townsfolk had already been Marked. Then she said she'd met another traveller, and went to go get them.
I went back in for Arakan and Black. Arakan, because he was already awake, and Black, because however much he needed rest, he'd kill me if I left him to wake up in the middle of a fight. After everything else, I was trusting Liara less and less...and to this day, I can't be sure she wasn't working with Omandras from the beginning. Her `friend' was another elven woman, a little prettier, with a horse, who gave her name to be Talia. Liara herself never came back.
Now, some of my more astute readers are probably noticing a lot of similarities between the name Liara and Talia. I mean, there's only one letter changed, and it's mixed up barely more than Liara and A Liar. And she was an Illusionist, afterall. So it would have been perfectly reasonable to guess that this, Talia, was in fact Liara, trying to sneak herself back into the group as another person. Especially with the whole, "Wait here while I get my friend" thing, and never seeing them both together...well, let's just say it crossed my mind, too.
So if you're wondering why I didn't just run her through - which is always an effective way to pierce an illusion, if you know what I mean - you have to remember two things. One, a Swordmaster who duels only with their blade is only half a Swordmaster - we hone our wits just as sharp. And two, all the other things we suspected (I would be hard pressed to say we knew anything) about Liara. She might be Theran. She might be Marked. She might very well have been working for Omandras all along.
And if you study the Horrors for very long, you learn what some of their tricks are. And one of their favorites is setting innocent people up into very suspicious circumstances. Arakan even told us that Omandras had a long history of leaving a single survivor from the towns he had claimed over the years; survivors that, of course, were never trusted, never welcomed anywhere. Who might have been spared because they were corrupted, but more likely were only corrupted in having been spared. Old tales of Thera suggest similar tactics, turning people against each other to weaken them against later conquest.
So I was willing to give this Talia a chance, knowing - as she must have known - that she would be watched, always. If not by me, then by Black, who I'm not sure even trusted himself. And when one of us slept and the other blinked? Baraak's eyes had always seen more than they revealed, and always would.
At this point, we were caught in a closing vice. We knew something had followed us out of the pit from the cemetery, and would be prowling the night. And if the town was being turned against us, they might well be out tonight, tracking Liara and/or Talia to our door. Much of our gear was left behind at the inn, and would never be seen again. (You remember, I said that was important. But don't think you always have to carry everything you own with you, all the time; things break, or get lost. They can be replaced. All of us were out, and that's what really mattered! I can tell you truly, I never gave another thought, save in basic memory, of the things we had claimed from the Theran Elementalist, or the bow which was, afterall, my first real hunting bow. Silvers and sentiments aside, they were only...stuff. Would that it had been only material goods Omandras had stolen from us at the first, and not my dearest friend Vergil!)
And that's when something roared. Something big. Really, really big. Big enough to have Arakan asking Grell if there were any Dragons in the area. Apparently there was, and Grell had actually talked to her! Despite both Arakan and myself reminding him that there were already a lot of things moving out there, he ran off into the night to look for it alone, save his dog Heero. It was the first time I'd seen him directly ignore Arakan, but that at least cleared up my guess that he wasn't officially apprenticed...just respectful.
So we let Talia, and her horse 'Eidolon, into the barn, and settled down for some uneasy rest while keeping a little more alert even than we had already been. And that is how our night in Mallowroast really ended.
In the morning, Grell still wasn't back, and I could tell Arakan was worried. It was quiet. Quieter than the silence that falls when the animals know something big is coming, and are holding their breath until it passes. This was the quiet that comes when the animals know something really big has already started, and they've gone to find new homes.
Baraak went out to have a look around. And Arakan was at last able to tell us what he knew about Omandras, The Night King.
Apparently, Omandras really was as old as he claimed, or at least near enough - which wasn't so remarkable, for any kind of Obsidiman. Arakan could trace him to before the Scourge, all the way to the Invae Invasion, wherein he was apparently seen in a town in Landis. He left only one survivor there, driven mad, babbling about living Night. Ten years later he destroyed another town - vanished, save one survivor. This one was Theran. (Of course, back then, historically speaking, most of Barsaive was, too, so I'm not sure what that says. But Arakan mentioned it as an important piece about the town, so in case somebody reading this wanted to go on to research that, there it is.)
Arakan has found further tales of him, scattered throughout Barsaive's history. Towns, then kaers, fallen, in his Name. Like many Horrors, he seems to like to leave just a few witnesses here and there to his deeds, to spread the fear... but he doesn't seem to be a Horror himself.
But Arakan also said that as old and strong as he is, he can be hurt, and you don't need a magic weapon to do it. And the rumors that his very touch causes madness are equally false, though his sheer strength still made wrestling with him a bad idea!
It hurt, to think what might be being done to Vergil, even as we listened to the tale. Even as there was nothing I could do about it then, I refused to hide from the knowledge. He was my friend. Merely knowing of his torment...well, it had to be nothing to what he was being subjected to. But spreading that kind of pain is just what the Horrors want: I wouldn't hide, but neither would I succumb to it.
Black stepped out to keep watch outside at this point, while the rest of us ate a little bit. There was definitely a fight coming; Black seemed eager to get to it, but I'll tell you, if I had a choice between an enemy with energy and an enemy faint from hunger...
Well, I'd choose the one with energy, of course, because that would really be an unfair advantage. But the point is, hungry isn't a good way to go into battle, if you have time to avoid it.
We set to discussing strategy. We didn't know what was happening; we only knew what little we had seen the night before, and the hints we had gotten from Grell that the town was already deeply corrupted. Narlinda might have known more, but her consciousness was still a touchy thing at best. It was Mirrel who suggested that we use the suspicion that had been thrown at us, to lure the townsfolk out, and away from Omandras' influence. Some people say Troubadour's aren't brave, because they're not at the front of the line with a sword, but I've always said such people have no understanding of what bravery is.
As we debated whether to go into town, or back to the tunnels, it occurred to me that Baraak had been gone a very long time. Which, of course, is when he came back, with some rations and a set of leatherworking tools, reclaimed from our room of the night before. He said they were all that was recoverable, and that the town was...too quiet, too. Just like the forest. He had only seen five people, and they were coming up the road, towards us. That changed all our thoughts about what was happening in town.
Most of the rest of us went out to have a look. The townsfolk hadn't reached him yet, but there was Black - at his post, much too far down the road. I've found fault with few of Black's decisions, at least once I saw them from his point of view, but that morning, I just don't know what he was thinking. I'd tried to let him get some sleep since the night he skipped, so that didn't explain it. A sentry for a small group needs to be close enough that they can report something they see, not get ambushed far enough away that the people they're guarding might not even hear a fight. The five stopped when they reached him - four men and a woman, who was clearly their leader. All of the men had bows ready, and they began moving into a very threatening position, spreading out to cover Korentin from all sides.
Still, they did stop to talk to him for a moment, and of course I hoped that was promising. They were talking to Korentin Black, though, whose talent for not stopping a fight is legendary. Baraak and Ronia both disappeared into the trees, to try to circle around; Talia stayed back at the barn, because with her horse, she could cover the distance quickly. I started down the road, because I can't walk as quietly as a Thief or a Scout, and probably wouldn't if I could. I kept my sword in its sheath, though. They were in a fighting formation, but they hadn't struck a blow yet, and I didn't want to start a fight that didn't have to happen. (This might surprise some people, coming from a Swordmaster, but remember - we might enjoy the battle more than others, but we have more rules than most, too!)
Sure enough, I was only halfway there when it broke. The leader pulled out a crystal axe, and swung it at Black's head! The archers didn't do anything, though, which was weird...but not as weird as when, after only a moment, they started to melt.
I'll tell you true, I didn't watch it. I didn't have to. It was happening, and right then, that's all my brain needed to know. They weren't an immediate threat, and whatever that was going to lead to, we'd see when it happened. I was still too far away; I started running, even before Talia's horse thundered past me at a full charge. Black, of course, was deadly - beautiful to watch, in his own way. He doesn't have any flair, but he combines force and precision, and approaches battle like a Weaponsmith at their forge. Always seeking perfection. Which he happens to think of in a very minimalist kind of way that I don't quite see, but I can understand kind of, anyway. He barely even flinched when her axe crushed into his shoulder, just switching hands for his sword and striking back.
I tried to get the woman's attention as I came closer, but faced with Black's deadly stare, and having just been almost run down by Talia and her steed, her focus was hard to shake. When I did reach, the fight was almost over - Black, even in his badly wounded state, had given her several deep wounds, even forcing his sword through her chainmail tunic. She continued to fight like one possessed, though, as indeed she was. I crossed my sword to the haft of her axe, and pulled it from her blood-slicked hand, tossing it to Baraak as he came out from the trees. Maybe that would help tell her the fight was over. I thought perhaps to give her a chance to surrender...
...but it was Black's fight, truly, and his blade that pushed up under her armor and into her heart. At the last, her eyes cleared, and she managed a final, "Thank you," to our own darkest warrior, before she fell out of this life.
And that, is where Black challenged me to a duel! Barely standing, blood dripping down his side, and his right arm unusable. Right as we stood, in the middle of the road, a scant five minutes from a Horrorstruck town. You have to give him points for style, anyway!
He had good reason to want a duel, actually. When I was trying to get the woman's attention, what I had called out was that he wasn't worth the focus she was giving him. Actually, I compared him to the child Liara said had been murdered the night before.
In fact, I suggested that she was picking on him because children were too hard.
It came out wrong. I mean, obviously, I had to shake her attention from a clearly deadly threat, so I was trying to make him sound less deadly. But I didn't really mean to say he was less dangerous than a child. To say it about someone with a Troll's Honor...well, if I had had time to think about it, I wouldn't have said it. But if I had had time to think about it, it wouldn't have come up in the first place. I'd been trying to save his life, afterall. So I wasn't going to just apologize. But it really didn't seem fair; I was fresh, and he was already on the edge of unconsciousness. I was perfectly willing to duel him (or anybody!) as needed, but I wanted to wait until it was fair!
He pushed it, though, and, well, I needn't have worried. If you ever meet a T'skrang named Korentin Black, I warn you, don't underestimate him, for even a moment! He was only starting then, too, just like I was...and in the shape he was in, and the shape I was in, I'm not ashamed to admit, he won the duel.
Partly, it was my own fault. I wasn't taking it seriously enough. I wanted to do it later; I was worried about something coming down the road, and if he insisted on doing it now, I needed to get it over with and move on. But I'm not selling his skill short! Even a distracted Swordmaster shouldn't have been disarmed the way I was, and that's how it happened - he took my sword from my hand as smoothly as I had the woman's axe, and speared it into the ground several yards away. It was a fair fight, and I've said it before: A part of any duel is the knowledge that somebody's going to lose. This time, it was me, and that's OK. It had happened before, and it would happen again.
He touched the tip of his blade to the back of my hand, drawing a single drop of blood. I let that happen, because he had won; it was his to claim. I think we understood each other a lot better after that, about a lot of things.
And I told him then, and I'll tell you now, if he challenged me again, even in his sleep, he could bet I'd pay attention.
Arakan, meanwhile, had been studying the remains of the one-time archers, and informed us that they had been left in the form of Theran runes, saying, "It Is Too Late". Typical Horror-fare, really, and I have to wonder why it was in Theran if it was meant to tell any of us, but the idea of using people to write with...well, it is awfully creepy. It just doesn't get to me like some people, because I understand that's the whole reason they do it. It's just drama.
Once his Honor was satisfied, Black let himself feel his wounds, and he staggered forward, yanking our attention away from the disgusting forms on the ground. Arakan and I caught him, and could only watch as his consciousness left him. To think about the willpower it took to face me down in that condition! I'm never ashamed to admire qualities in others. I'm good at what I do; I was born to do it. But there are things about Black I still aspire to. (And some I think are completely bone-headed, but I think he sees me the same, so that's OK.)
Korentin had to be moved, and he was in no kind of shape for it. It was Mirrel who had the idea of making a sling to carry him in; she found two long branches and some shorter ones, and quickly tied them together. It wasn't a great job, but it would make him easier to carry, without moving him too much. We wrapped him up in my cloak to help soften it and keep him warm.
It's possible that some people reading this are thinking, "But Calypte - your cloak!" It's true that it's a very nice cloak, and it wasn't cheap, and yes, it still carries some of the stains of Korentin's blood from that day. And I'm a person, just like anybody. (Well, perhaps just a little bit more Extraordinaire!) I'm not above some petty thoughts, and I admit it bothered me a little later, when he was walking again and I unlashed it from the branches. But I can't even imagine the kind of person who would think about that when a close ally was so badly hurt.
I can't deny, though, I'm kind of glad I can't think of any reason my hat would be so important to someone else like that. It's really one of a kind!
Anyway, Talia went rode back towards town to get another perspective on the silence Baraak observed, while the rest of us took Korentin and the Warden (as I later learned the woman called herself) back towards the barn with the others. Yes, we took her, too. She was human at the end, and I thought she deserved better than to be left in the road.
We only made it about halfway back before the ground shook terribly! It was all we could do to keep our footing, but even so, we managed to hold on to our charges, also. The Warden was already dead, of course, but it wouldn't have done to drop Black on his head! The others came running out of the barn (except for Narlinda, who more kind of staggered), bringing with them everything that had been left inside. Grell was with them, having returned safely from his sojourn of the night before...but I was sad to see Heero was not with him. I didn't ask, yet, what had happened, but it couldn't have been good. We all grouped together back on the road, and looked back towards Mallowroast. I had a terrible feeling about what the trembling ground might mean already, but Talia - and more to the point, 'Eidolon - would be there and back before any of us could get there.
I was helping to carry Black, but while we were holding for a moment, I let Arakan watch over him while I tended to the Warden. It wasn't much - we just kind of set her up by a tree, and gave her a flower. I'd have liked to have given her a proper burial, but there was no hoping there might be time for such a thing...and under the circumstances, perhaps open sky was the more fitting resting place for her. It's important to be able to respect your enemies, though, especially those who have been twisted against their will. In the end, she didn't deserve what had happened to her, starting from long before Korentin's blade thrust into her heart.
Talia came back, and she had the wide white eyes of shock; she barely made it back to us before she simply fell off her horse. (And if you've even ever heard of a Cavalrywoman - for that is indeed what she was - then you know just how much that says!) I leapt over to catch her, barely!, and was grateful to see it was only a swoon. She hadn't been wounded, or anything, just...overwhelmed by what she had seen.
As she recovered, she confirmed the worst of my fears: Mallowroast was gone. Collapsed into the tunnels, and soon, I was sure, to be covered over as if it had never been.
It's more drama, see. Arakan had mentioned that in the tales of Omandras - towns not only destroyed, but vanished! Oooh, spooky, right? Well, if you're researching the Night King for some reason, and were wondering how he did it, now you know. He had his corrupted people dig tunnels underneath, and then collapses them at the end, killing the people and `vanishing' the town all at once. Just like the other rumors Arakan cautioned us about, about his very touch driving people mad or his being unharmable by mortal means...well, it's all false. Omandras had great power, to be sure...but not as great as he made it out to be! That day, I wasn't strong enough to beat him, but I knew the day that I would be was not far off!
Fortunately, Grell was able to confirm that the last un-tainted survivors of Mallowroast had already left, finding escort by mercenaries. It was Arakan who talked me out of going back to search for any more. He had more experience with Omandras, and was certain such a search could only cost our lives. I've been accused of being a little impractical sometimes, and I know there's a ring of truth to that. It's one of the ways Vergil and I worked so well together. But sometimes you can be too practical, too, and Horror Stalkers maybe have to be. It didn't sit well with me. Maybe we already had done all we could; maybe we really did know there was nothing left to find. Talia certainly hadn't seen anything.
But it still felt like leaving without trying hard enough. Sometimes, living to fight another day is harder than fighting to the bitter end...but while it didn't sit well with me then, and still doesn't today, I know that throwing our lives away against Horrors too strong for us only feeds the Horrors. The only way I could avenge Mallowroast, or save Vergil, or stop the Night King from continuing his evil for another thousand years...was to live, and to learn. The orcs who had given us their hospitality at the barn went another way, and Sandra elected to accompany them. I don't know if they offered her payment for her formidable protection, or if she had a liking for the brother, or simply wished to travel another road for a time, but so she went. And so the rest of us left, to return to Bartertown, for one of the hardest tasks I'd ever faced. Telling the men at The Lost Puppy that they could never go home.
And so ended my very first adventure, in what could only honestly be called failure. But it wasn't all a loss - I had new friends, and new companions. I had learned a lot...and Omandras had sealed his fate.
This tale is as true in the telling as ever have I told.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:58, Sat 09 Dec 2006.