The night was cold.   It wasn’t just the blistering wind, this stretch of the Bleak Reach simply seemed more bleak than the rest.  The land itself felt dead, devoid of ‘life’, unable to warm itself.

As Giovanni stood upon the crest of the hill, he could see the small village nestled in the valley below, huddling against the bare stone ground.   Maybe a dozen of the buildings shed weak light; the rest of the village was either asleep, or empty ... their occupants taken by the plague.

And beyond the village, he could only just make out the cottage that was his destination.
It sat removed from the village, as many such places do:  close enough to be a peripheral part of the community, yet shunned enough to enjoy its own company.

He might possibly find succour in the village, and a spare bed, if he followed the road down into the small neighbourhood ... if the folk there weren’t so xenophobic and fearful as to (attempt) driving him out.
Or, and it would surely be a rough option, he could cut a wide berth around the place and forge his own path through the night.


As part of your post, please tell us why Giovanni has come here.   Who lives in yonder cottage? And why has Giovanni made this unhospitable journey, to this desolate place?

From Hamlet to Village, to ruin and waste within the Bleak Reach, Giovanni traveled with the presence of a man consumed with purpose. As he stood upon the crest of the hill that looked down to this particularly bleary and lonesome village he recalled the moment things had changed for him. When he had found that lonely little shrine tucked away in the Garden of those ruins. When the powers of Creation had touched his soul and illuminated the Truth to him, of who he was, or more accurately what he was. The finer details were lost to him. He had no reference or lore to educate him on the matter. But, the point was he had been given or rather...awoken to the Means to an End. The Curse that followed him, hounded him. He could fight back against something so wholly ephemeral and intangible. From, that moment in the shrine, he had sought to try and learn as much as he could, asking fellow vagrants and vagabonds if they had heard of such things as to how to completely destroy Demons and Curses, of course without implicating any such connection to himself. And though the rumors were as thin and bland as watered down gruel, he had been told that there was one such person who might know far far away in a part of the Bleak Reach that was far more desolate and broken down than the others.

Giovanni had traveled to meet this mystery person. To ask him what he could possibly know. Sure, Giovanni had the power now to alleviate the worst parts of his Curse, albeit only for short reprieves, he couldn't truly be free until he Shattered it's hold on his Soul. Once that was done...then he could truly seek his Hearts Desire. Supposedly this person would have the means or information to help him. All he had to do was ask...

He would have been lying to himself if he wasn't a bit afraid. Some part of him longed to go down through that village and ask around, to try and make friends with any of the residents who still lived there...to see if they could help him with this Person if need be. To give him succor in order to rest and prepare himself. But...it was too risky. Every time he tried, the Demon within him, the Curse would manifest and bring down any manner of ill fortune and omen upon him, even with his new found strength and power.

So, with a deep breath of regret and shame, Giovanni set out to make his way down the hill, breaking away from the road itself and giving himself a wide berth as he made his way toward the Cottage and his destination, keeping the village a safe distance away from him, so as to not disturb them in the night.

It was a long, arduous route, making his own way around the village.  The land itself seemed unfriendly to Giovanni’s presence.  As though it sensed the evil that followed him into this place.

At one point, the smell of rotting carrion and the sudden intensity of flies told Giovanni that somewhere nearby bodies had been dumped.
They were far enough from the village to prevent their stench or disease returning there, and the wind here travelled away from their recent homes.

The land was rocky, and uneven; many times, as Giovanni moved through these foothills, small rock slides carried him small distances before he could steady himself.
But as dawn hinted itself upon the horizon behind him, Giovanni staggered ... sore, exhausted, hungry ... towards the lone cottage.

Curse Eaters, he’d heard them referred to.
It’d been told to Giovanni that the man who lived here was trained in such: removing unwanted magics, and ... eating curses.
But hose who had spoken of this had done so reluctantly; almost a feared of even mentioning the man, invade he heard their words and took offence.  The spoke of him as though he were ‘almost’ as evil as the curse upon this land.

Giovanni was far more used to the rough and harsh terrain as he took the long slow path towards his destination. The rocks, the slopes, the scents, and the sights all innately familiar to him. Of course, he did his best to navigate them, but he was just as much as susceptible to the environs as anyone else and it took him longer than typical. He was travelling now with little sleep and food to sustain him. Ever since he had reached this particular part of the Reach, it had been even harder to hunt and gather and find safe shelter than usual.

As Dawn broke and he felt the light of the sun fall upon him, he felt some manner of strength return to him, even as he staggered the remaining distance to the front door of the Cottage. Sunlight. No matter what, always seemed to be able to give him that extra push, the ability to summon more strength to carry on. As the warm rays of light washed over him, he felt a slow and gradual sense of calm come over him. He had made it here. This was where he needed to be.

Taking in a deep breath, Giovanni knocked upon the door loudly and firmly. He wanted to make sure he could be heard, but he paced his knocks to show he wasn't in a hurry either. This Person....This Curse-Eater...He hope they could give him the means to free himself.

The hollow, reverberations of his knocks upon the door seemed to echo in the pale dawn twilight ... and it was several minutes (just as Giovanni was wondering if, indeed, the place was now deserted) that he heard shuffling from with.

Soon enough, a harsh male voice from within came from just the other side of the door, “Is that you, Renoir?
Leave the nails and bread, and anything else you have, out there.   I’m in no state to be seen toda...”, before being overcome with a rasping cough that went on for at least a minute.

There was no disguising the disease and plague in the sound, and Giovanni realised that the air close to the domicile reaked of the same.

Giovanni paused for a moment after having heard the occupant from within the Cottage speak. First he had considered the place might have been abandoned, but when they had spoken, and he heard the quality of their voice....that was when the smell hit him. Was he too late? Had he traveled to slow and cautiously to get here? Frowning a bit, he steeled his resolve. He had to at least speak with this man.

"I'm afraid it is not Renoir sir," he began, speaking loudly and clearly through the door. "But my name is Giovanni, and I have traveled far to meet with you, It may be within my power to Aid you, if you are willing to grant me an audience to explain myself,"

There was silence for some time, and Giovanni could almost sense the trepidation and contemplation from behind the door.
After a while, the door was opened from within, just a fraction.  The darkness within was much deeper than without, with no moon to illuminate its interior.

"You should know," came the harsh, gravelly voice from within, "that not evenI can hold back the curse of this land.  It has me in its grasp as much an the land.  If you enter, you I give no guarantee that you'll not open yourself to it yourself".

He could smell something sweet cooking within; something that held the mild, honey scent of old meat, spiced to extensive levels to make it palatable ... probably stewed with root vegetables.
As bad as that sounded, it made his mouth water and his stomach grumble.

Out the back, he heard something rustle, and a soft bleating sound.

With a soft, sincere and weary smile that spoke of his deep intimacy with the nature of a Curse, Giovanni looked into that small crack in the open door, nodding his head gently in understanding and agreement.

"Know that I speak true when I declare that the particular Curse that seems to have poisoned the area of this land with plague and pestilence holds no real sway over me and I have no dread putting myself at risk for it. My troubles are far more...ethereal and intangible. I ask again, could we speak to one another. I only come in search of information at the very least and I give my Oath that if there is something in my power I can do to Aid you for your time in return, then I will do it." he explained once again trying his best to look as disarming as possible.

Unfortunately, the longer he stood there, and smelled the cooking food, the more hungrier he became. His last meal having long since been a day or so ago. Very audibly and noticeably, his stomach gurgled obnoxiously loud. It didn't matter if it smelled like this man had over done and over-seasoned his meal, it smell heavenly compared to the watery slop he prepared himself based off the meager things he scrounged up on the road.

The sound of wild-life out the back of the cottage was something he noticed, but unless it was the sound of terror or anger, Giovanni told himself it was just livestock.

Sorry, I didn't make my intentions clear: the opening of the door was supposed to be an invitation to enter  ;-P

Also, just so we are on the same page:  "plague and pestilence holds no real sway over me" ... are you under the assumption that Giovanni is immune to plagues and disease?  That ability is true for those who have bonded with the Word of Health, but its not a common Godbound fact.


"Then consider yourself invited in, young man", came the hoarse voice from within.

               (making an assumption here)
As Giovanni entered, his eyes instantly adapted to the darkness, seeing through the gloom and encompassing night as though daylight shone.  It had been this way since his empowerment at the shrine, so long ago.  Nothing seemed able to impede his sight any longer.

The cottage was made claustrophobic with its possessions; unusual for a peasant home, which were usual sparsely furnished.
Here, small desks and shelves holding books and tomes were piled high with writing materials and alchemical, apothecaric looking equipment, and sat beside barrels of unknown substances and bales of dried materials.  Herbs, dried carcasses and strange, mystic ornaments hung from the ceiling.
Giovanni could see a large map of the realm mounted on a far wall, with another hand-drawn, incomplete sketch of the Bleak Reach on another.   Above one work bench were several posters with runes and glyphs, bound by drawings and sprawling diagrams.

And in the corner of the small cottage, a small kitchenette ... a bowl of stew bubbling away on the wood-fired stove and a kettle teetering barely-balanced.   Although, at this time of the morning, the fire had burned down during the night to be little more now than glowing cinders in the oven belly.
And a doorless doorway leading, presumably, to a small bedroom area.

The old man, was preparing two bowls of stew, to place upon the rickety old table.  There was only one chair.
"You'll find no great comfort here, but I'll be gracious enough to share some breakfast while we speak ... so long as you remember your place as guest", turning to place the bowls on the table, and for the first time look at Giovanni.
His gaze linger some time, as though appraising Giovanni; almost like he was looking further into Giovanni than mortal eyes could, or should.

Then he nodded, and gestured to the side of the table that had no chair.  But he did offer Giovanni to "Pull up a barrel or something, if you've the strength.   The One knows that I don't any lon...." and again was taken by the plague cough, which he tried to bury in the crook of his elbow.

He was an old man, and Giovanni knew the plague was as much his bane as age.
When he finished coughing, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and sat upon the chair opposite, picking up a spoon.
"So, bullshit aside, nobody comes here to help ... they come looking for help.
Oh don't worry, there'll be a cost, so keep your 'I can help you out, old man' to yourself, and tell ol' Torvill what you want with straight words", and began to eat, expecting to be listening as he did so.

No worries, I just played it safe just in case. As for Giovanni's statements about the plague having no sway over him, I figure Giovanni still doesn't grasp the full extent of his ability or it's limitations, but he figures that he's more resistant to such things. He has no real idea if what he said is true or not, but he believes it to be hehe.

Giovanni nodded and made his way in slowly and carefully, making sure to take the time to avoid bumping into anything unnecessary or accidentally.

"Thank you kindly for allowing my presence within your home," Giovanni replied graciously and somberly. The Old Man was gruff and stern, but He was thankful for the hospitality all the same. He waited first as the old man's guest before he moved to the side of the table with no chair, once the old man was seated and eating. Bowing his head in thanks to his host, he took up the bowl and took in a deep breath.

"I believe myself to be under some manner of Curse. All my life there has been some sort of awful insidious presence following me. For most of my life I had originally just assumed it to bad luck or natural misfortune that was to be my lot in life. But...Some time ago something had changed for me. I believe I was given a Blessing or something to that effect. And With it I saw what was Bound to me. Some sort of...Demon or something like it. At that time, I learned I could banish it, but only for a short period of time. It always comes back. Always." he explained plainly. For a moment he stopped talking to eat the stew, savoring it's contents and flavors profusely with the joy of a man to whom buttered bread is a luxury.

"Once I became aware of...It. I set out to learn what I could, and I learned of you. But the rumors were more tales of terror and fear than anything real. I came here hoping you could help, or if not, at the very least grant me more information as to how I could Cleanse myself of this foul Curse." he added on, stopping to take a few more spoonfuls of stew as he stood there.

"And I will pay the cost. I meant it as well. If I have the power to Aid you, I will. It may be that the Blessing I was granted isn't strong enough for my circumstance, but, I believe it may help you."

The old man sat, listening almost as much as he gave his attention to the breakfast.   He nodded and 'ah-hah'ed enough to suggest that he was taking in the general jist of Giovanni's explanation, at the least.

By the time Giovanni came to an end, and was finishing up his own bowl of gruel, the old man stood to take his bowl to the nearby bucket of water.
"Sure, sure" he said, "everyone's got their curses and bad luck.
Yeup, I'll help you out as best I can, young fella.  And in return, we agree that my woodpile out back there get filled with freshly hewn firewood, eh!".
He returned to the table and pulled his seat out towards Giovanni a little, so as he could sit comfortably and look the boy up and down.

"Well, you aint got the plague yet, so that one bit of good luck I can share with you".  Giovanni could see the signs of plague upon the man; the dried blood at the corner of his eyes, nose, ears.  The small, rash like welt that extend from under his clothing slight up the neck.   And one blistering wound on the man's wrist (which he generally kept hidden).

His eyes seemed to look deep into Giovanni's eyes and aura for some time, his eyebrows slowly raising in what seemed like growing surprise, however ... as Ol' Torvill began to take a lot more interest in whatever he was seeing in Giovanni.

Eventually, Ol' Torvill blinked; refocusing his eyes and attention on Giovanni.
He looked ... impressed? intimidated?     "Well, hell.  You aint no simpleton now are you boy?  What exactly are you?
And don't give me no shit.   I know Power when I see's it.
And there aint going to be no wood chopping for you.   Any debt from one such as you will be getting me more than a weeks worth of that chore done".

Giovanni could tell that the man had more to say ... but he was waiting for a response first.

Once the bowl was finished, Giovanni returned it to the old man gratefully. It may have been a rather extremely simple meal and on the extremely thin side, but it had hit the spot for him, an entire bowl. Already he was grateful for the old man's hospitably, he was willing to do anything to help. When he was offered the seat to sit down, he took it, with a slight feeling of trepidation crawling on the back of his neck, uncertain as to what would unfold. The more his rheumy eyes stared at him, the more uncomfortable he began to feel. If the rumors and gossip had been true, the old man was looking into his Soul. he would see things even Giovanni only had the barest of inklings on.

Of course, his reaction and follow up statements only solidified that chain of thought. "I don't claim to be a simpleton sir, only a wandering nomad Cursed to his very Soul. Beyond that much, I'm afraid there isn't much else to tell you that I haven't already told you. For my entire life, I've been overshadowed by this foul presence that clings to my very spirit and only recently, something happened to me, I think it was a Blessing or something, but even I am unsure. It's allowed me to..weaken the Curses effects for a time. It's made me stronger with my Blade, it's...well, I feel as though I have a connection to the very Sun itself, but still for all it's worth, It can't seem to shatter this foul presence that follows my every wake. Perhaps the only other thing I can tell you sir is that I think I received this Blessing when I stumbled upon in an ancient shrine in a long abandoned city of some sort. But, that's it." 

The old man nodded, listening and acknowledging what the young man before him said.   But Giovanni could tell that Ol' Torvill didn't exactly believe him, or trust that Giovanni was telling the all of it.

"I'll do what I can to understand the malady you're under, kid.
I'll try to understand who did this to you, and fix the bits I can.  Hell, maybe we'll get lucky, and I can banish your devil.  If not, maybes I can tell you something helpful.

But then, Then you get me out of here.   Even if you have to carry me, you get me to Long Nets, down on the other side of the Omen Peaks" he said, negotiating his price.  "I wanna die in my home, not here in this accursed place.
Even if you have to delivery me dead; you get me there, and see that I gets a good burial.  Rites and all, so's I don't end up in hell.
Deal?'


So long as Giovanni agreed, the old man made himself comfortable again, and again began to look deep into Giovanni's soul.
It made Giovanni feel awfully uncomfortable, inside and out.

And that's when he felt the curse within, his demon, stirring.
It wasn't just Giovanni that was being scrutinised.
And what was it they said about looking into the Void?

There was no hesitation as he spoke, the moment the Old Man had made the offer, Giovanni jumped at it. "Absolutely. In one way or another, I will return you to your home," he began to say, the feeling of pride and uncertainty rising within him as the Old Man's gaze bore into him once more and he felt the stirrings of that Curse begin to grow in strength once more. The Demon or whatever it was regaining it's strength from his own attempted banishing. "I give you my Word, I will do everything in my power to bring you to Long Nets alive so that you may look upon your home in the light of the Sun," he added, the unknown Power of his Word filling him and reaching out into the very fabric of reality. It was faint at first, but with every passing instance as he spoke that Oath aloud, rays of Sunlight began to filter in through what windows there were brilliant and cleansing in their comforting Light, one such pall of light washed over Giovanni, giving him an almost radiant glow of Power, casting his shadow wide against the wall, revealing it's nature as a bent and twisted thing of murderous malice and bloodthirsty intent. The contrast of the Curse and his own growing Power in stark revalatory display even if Giovanni himself was unaware of how he was doing it.

"My sword shall be your Shield and my Blessing shall be your Light in the dark, and my Word shall be your Ally." he added solemnly, bowing his head a bit.

... and it was in that moment, as Giovanni felt invigorated, bowing his head, that he felt the Demon grow.

He'd felt its presence more potently recently.  Even since he'd been blessed at that strange, abandoned alter ... when he'd first truly sensed and understood the curse upon him ... he'd been able to 'see it' more clearly when it reared its ugly head.
Not only could he sense its attention more acutely, he'd learned to draw that blessing around him, like aegis and shield, to protect himself from the malice presence.

As sunlight now washed across Giovanni, he suddenly realised that the beast was awakening ... not just stirring.
It was, indeed, rearing its malice head.
Maybe it was the sunlight, maybe the gaze and presence of the old man?  But something had irritated it, and it rose within him now with a vengeance.

He would not let it's dark malodorous power to awaken. He refused it. Recalling the feelings that had overcome him in that strange little run down abandoned and ruined garden shrine he tapped into that Power, letting it Inside him as it had before, as he did so, a halo of light began to gather around his head, as though it was drawing in the light around him more actively, and as a result the Demon of the Curse grew in Darkness more and more given far more shape and form with the creation and formation of Sunlight. Giovanni wouldn't let it touch the Old Man, Old Torvill who even now was likely watching this as it all unfolded. He hoped it wouldn't hurt the old man, weak with plague as he was.

The Light filled him and surged through him with it's Brilliance, and the Wandering Vagabond turned his attention to the Shadow on the Wall, the thing seemingly staring back at him of it's own accord now, as though it was no longer bound to his own physical form. It twtiched and writhed with foul insidious nature, a thing of unreal shape and form, cast only by his own Shadow. It wasn't really there, or maybe it was. He couldn't slash at it with his sword, his weapon, as sharp and skilled as he was with it, never connected with it. No, the only thing he could do was turn this Blessing upon it as he had done so that very first time.

"You shall not work your awful power Demon," he said, Power infusing his speech. "Begone from whence you came, back to the Shadows and the Dark from which you were created, trouble me and those under my sworn Protection no more!" he said, channeling his Will into his words, letting the now grossly incandescent light that was Burning within him out and into the entire room, flooding the building with the light, letting it become consumed by it until there was no place for such maleficent Shadows to be created.

Givoanni expends one effort to use Purity of Brilliant Law to once again send the Demon away from him. He swore and Oath, and with all of his passion intend to see his end of the deal through.

That’s an awesome post.   And normally I’d let you achieve exactly what Giovanni is attempting.
But I hope you can forgive me for the storytelling hammer I’m about to use, especially this early in your story: but I’d like to let narrative take this somewhere a little different ... and see what happens.


The Brilliance that flared from within Giovanni certainly did drive his inner demon away.   It screamed and writhed in agony and anger, and as he looked at the wall behind him, Giovanni could see the monster kid shadow roiling away, burned and seeded by the power emanating from him.

 It the shadowshape wasn’t dissipated, as Giovanni might have expected.   Instead, flailing and frayed at its edges, it fled to the only safe haven available:  the shadow on the far side of the old man.
The bright emanating from Giovanni’s soul illuminated the interior of this dwelling: except for the spirit of the old man, which blocked the radiance, casting a stark contrast against the wall behind him.
And it was into this shadow that the demon fled.

And as Giovanni took this in, Ol’ Torvil rocked slight on his seat, and his eyes rolled backwards into his head.
Then, those same eyes washed with darkness and shadow, becoming pitch black. Black as the proverbial abyss; Black as uncreated night.
And a smile crept across his face.

“Well hello, young Giovanni.  At last, we meet”, a dark voice said from Ol’ Torvil’s mouth.
And it no longer seemed as disturbed by the light.

I'm more than fine with that, but since you'd like to go in a different narrative direction, could the Effort spent be refunded then?

As the light gradually receded and fell to the natural illumination of the candle and sunlight that came in from the windows Giovanni watched as his own shadow, twisted and wretched thing as it was seemingly fled into the old man's own shadow and filled him with that foul demented darkness that the Curse was presumably created from. Perhaps what disturbed him the most was how comfortable it seemed in Torvil's body causing a sense of dread failure gripping his heart at having failed to banish it and putting the old man at risk.

"So you can speak," Giovanni responded softly, his hand subconsciously moving to drift toward the sword at his belt as he tried to comprehend what was happening. Was the Old Man simply possessed? Or had it devoured his soul? Could he save him somehow? The Sunlight had failed him once already and he wasn't sure if he was strong enough or knew enough to make the right choice.

Yes, for sure, my friend.  Sorry, I meant to say that in my OOC text above: do keep the Effort.   You may need it!


“Of course I can speak, you simpering moron”, Ol’ Torvil said, with a condescending sneer upon his face , “My intellect goes vastly beyond what you could ever comprehend”.
It looked at Giovanni as though he was a bit of dogshit on its boot, then said, “But for now, I’m bound.
Bound into duty, and bound into your pathetic mortal bloodline.

But here’s the thing, I’m as pissed about it as you are.   So while I have this opportunity,” it said, looking down at Ol’ Torvil’s body with disgust, “Let me make this clear.   I want out.
I want out of this deal.  I want out of this world, and I especially want OUT OF YOU.
So find a way to do so.  You’ve got the power now.
You can’t hurt me; or unbind me from you.  But you have the power to find who did this to me, and make them UNdo it.
Right?!?    So fucking do it!”

Then, after a moments thought, it said, “And don’t think I’m doing you any favours.
This is not some gentleman’s agreement.  And I ain’t your friend.  Don’t think for one moment that I’m going to let up on you.
It’s not just the binding of duty that made me work against you.        It’s.  A.  Pleasure.
Besides.   If I go easy on you now, you might get to forgetting about what needs to be done.
Right?”

Anger simmered within him to hear the Demon speak to him as it did. It's true that he had never been educated in most matters, but he had learned to survive as best as he could given his lot in life, and while he wasn't the most intelligent person around he knew he was clever and possessed with good insight and wisdom. Still, he hated being looked down upon like so, it was was very likely the Demon was well aware of that too. Slowly and carefully, he kept his breathing calm and regulated, trying not to give into any weakness the Dark thing might perceive.

"I will do so, I only ask that you do not harm the man whose body you are possessing. You have typically been ruthless to those who come around me, either by twisting their mind or harming them in some manner, so I ask you, leave this one alone and I will be able to do as you say, It's not a favor if it's your recommendation. This man is the only lead I even have to figuring out who, unless you have some direction you wish to tease and torture me with," Giovanni responded through gritted teeth, his hand hovering over the hilt of his sword still as his mind raced with ideas of possible actions he could take. He knew he didn't possess the means or ability to harm this foul tainted thing. And it would always prefer some method or manner of tormenting him in some fashion but this was the first time it had...manifested so blatantly so physically. It technically had a Body now...even if it wasn't it's own.

Within Giovanni a soft instinctual sensation began to creep up into him, his Burning Desire rolling through him, leaving imprints of ideas in his mind. He could learn something. Feeling those threads of Power within him, he reached out to them as subtle as possible, keeping his gaze locked into the inky black pools of oblivion that had consumed Old Torvil's eyes. The Demon had given him some information with it's grandstanding behavior. Someone had been responsible for this Curse. It wasn't a unlucky occurrence. Whomever it had been, they were connected to this Demon as much as he was. They were just as Important as the Demon itself. He reached for those Threads, his eyes piercing into The Demon's and willing the Power he felt to reveal to him what he wanted to learn.

Giovanni is attempting to use Follow the Threads Gift for the first time. Lesser Foes can't resist it, but I figure this Demon is certainly not a lesser Foe, so they get a Spirit save.

A thin, sadistic smirk crossed the face of The Curse as Giovanni mentioned how 'ruthless to those who come around {me}' it had been.   It was content and delighted to have brought such suffering to others, and to Giovanni by default.
Giovanni was left with no delusion of this creatures malicious, callous and malevolent nature ... and it sent a cold shiver down his spine.

But he could sense the being before him now in a way he'd never had the opportunity to in the past.
By possessing Ol' Torvill, The Curse had opened itself to Giovanni, also.   Taking the old man's body was, in some ways, a weakness.
A weakness that Giovanni could exploit.

In its unnatural, abyssal eyes, Giovanni could see truths that he could never have when the demon lay within him.  And he searched those eyes now ... seeking to draw out knowledge that the Demon didn't want him to have.
And The Curse resisted.  Giovanni could feel it: an active resistance that accompanied a sudden look of anger upon its face as it realised that it wasn't, entirely, in command of this situation as it thought it had been.

But, caught off guard, The Curse could not shut down Giovanni's sensings swiftly enough, and Giovanni saw those whom were most emotionally important to The Curse.

~ The roiling darkness within its eyes showed an even deeper roiling darkness ... the abyss from whence it had come.  And in that darkness was the god-like being that had created The Curse.  This entity was known to The Curse as Abbadon: a dark ruler of some unmade hell in the deepest pits of Unmade Night.  The Curse didn't perceive Abbadon with any loving emotion, but as a dark, cruel and harsh master that The Curse intrinsically sought to serve out of duty and fear more than devotion.   The Curse was made to serve, not just forced to serve.

~ Armond ... Giovanni's grandfather.  But as a young man.  When The Curse was bound to Armond, it was bound with the hatred and resentment that the summoner had for Armond.  It was as though the summoner had absolved themselves of such passions by forging those feelings into emotional chains, and using those to bind The Curse.   The summoner would likely no longer have held such feelings for Armond, instead transferring all that pain and anguish into The Curse ... forcing The Curse to take on the obligation and drive created by those passions.

~ Giovanni saw himself; as the sole encumberant of that binding.  Funnily enough, what he was was that The Curse had a passion to keep Giovanni alive.  For some reason, there was conflict within The Curse ... it wanted to be released from its bindings, but could not bare to think of Giovanni killed (yet delighted in the idea of his pain and torment).   Which was strange, because from what Giovanni knew, it was the cursed fortune of this being that caused the death of so many of his family.

~ The Summoner was a human woman named Viomenta de Carnash;  a sorceress in a land far, far from here.  Due to the emotions that she had taken from herself, and bound into The Curse to compel it, there was a very strong emotional connection between The Curse, and Viomenta.  It was as though part of her lived within him, in a sense.  Giovanni could see the woman now, standing before him in the eye of The Curse  ... a reanimation of that moment in which the binding took effect, and she invested her passions within it.

~ A demon that The Curse knew as Olviant; maybe some kind of sister spirit?  The emotions of a being such as The Curse were difficult and so very alien to anything Giovanni could comprehend.  But in some strange fashion, Olviant represented to The Curse the closest thing that Giovanni could sense as a positive connection.   Like The Curse itself, and Abbadon, it manifested visually in Giovanni's senses as a roiling form of unformed nothingness; yet, like the others, Giovanni felt that he might 'recognise' it if he ever encountered it.
And Giovanni sensed a dark, twisted sense of conflict within The Curse between its loyalty to Abbadon and to Olviant.

(... and that is all for you.   In know the Gift says 'hold-dozen', but you'll have to be happy with these, I regret.)
And then the sensing slammed shut, as The Curse forced himself to disassociate from Giovanni:  an iron-clad wall of will slamming down between them, preventing any further understanding on Giovanni's part.

And The Curse suddenly lurched backward, standing as it did so, and knocking over the chair it had been on.
And cruel and scared look upon its face.    "Fuck off, little man.  Get the Hell. OUT. OF. MY.   H E A D !"

The wave of information that flooded through Giovanni was unexpected and immense. Even as The Thing that held Torvil's body rocked and severed the flow of information violently, his own body rocked in sync with it as he stumbled a few steps backwards and instinctively withdrew his sword, in a feeble effort to protect himself should the thing try and attack him in some fashion. Even so, his mind was whirl with new information. Firstly, he hadn't known he could do that. It changed everything. Secondly, while he had known he had had a grandfather, he had never really known him or anything about him, having long been dead before Giovanni himself had been born.

Now he knew his name and what he had looked like in his prime, and if he was honest, that little shred of information did more for his Heart than anything else had for years. Perhaps though what was even more shocking was he had gotten the name of the One who had been responsible for the Curse, the who who had effectively murdered his entire family and left him an orphan and the joy his heart had felt before twisted and mutated into a holy rage. He had a name and face, which was more than he had ever possibly dreamed of getting before. If he was going to free himself of The Curse...they would be the one who could undo it. Then...

He didn't dwell on that thought for long. He wasn't able to. The more information his mind processed the more the scope of things began to grow. The Progenitor of this foul thing that was bound to Giovanni's very Soul. Abbadon. Whatever his relationship with the Curse was...that...abyssal presence was something on a completely different understanding. Was it watching? Did it even Care? It hurt his mind to even to try and comprehend such a thing. And following behind that was another Demon...another potential Foe, one that may seek Vengeance upon Giovanni if he were to not only unbind the Curse...but to Destroy it as he truly hoped.

Breathing in slowly and deeply, sword still raised defensively, Giovanni watched the Curse stare back at him having been fundamentally shaken to it's Core over the last few seconds. It made him feel Pride, he hadn't hurt it, but he had shaken it. He had done more to it than anyone else had...ever. He could subdue it and he could scare it. He was getting there.

"We both want this...situation to be fixed. And you are right...I have the Power. And I will do so, I have been doing so." he began to say, confidence filling his voice with assurance. "But as we have both seen, my power only grows," He added, leaving the unspoken threat hanging in the air. Despite the courage that was rising within him, Giovanni was still extremely aware of the monster's power, it would have no compunctions killing or maiming anyone to hurt Giovanni, or even outright killing him, despite how strangely it didn't want to, if Giovanni didn't try to placate it's ego, so he changed tactics. "However, You are still right, I can not begin to understand the depths of your power...So let me offer...a possible deal. I will not repeat what I have just done, if you return to me and focus your dark power solely on my person for the remainder of this binding. I mean that you will not harm or manipulate anyone else, and I will not venture into your mind and in so doing, we can keep to our natures without getting in the way of this...Quest." he offered, speaking very clearly, and making sure to stress the words.

"You get your Pleasure fed from solely my torments, and I still get to try and find a way to break this bond,"

“No deal”, The Curse sneered through a malicious sneering smirk.
“We both get to suffer this, till YOU fix it.   And I’m going to remind you,  Every.  Single. Day.  why you want to do that”.

It looked at Giovanni’s sword then, then tapped its/Torvil’s chest, “Go ahead.   It’ll put him out of his misery”.
“Or maybe you want me back inside you?” it leered, “Let the old bastard die in peace, eh!
No, I think I like it here.

Yeah, sure, it’ll be fun”, The Curse said, reaching out a hand, and holding it palm down just above the hot oven top, “Ooops, I wonder what that’ll feels like?”



Sure, I think Giovanni and The Curse will get along just fine ... this might even be the beginning of a beautiful friendship!
This message was last edited by the player at 03:22, Mon 16 Sept 2019.

Giovanni narrowed his eyes, staring at The Cursed Old Man as the Dark Presence within him toyed with his body. It was going to fight him every step of the way...Was it merely going to just act against him at every turn? He couldn't fathom why it would choose to do such a thing. But...even if he did strike, he'd only kill the innocent old man who had gotten caught up in all of this and the Demon, the Curse, it would likely simply disappear and then resume making his life miserable from the shadows. He had a plan though. He had a name too. He just needed to know where to go.

"It's not as though I can stop you otherwise," he began to say, moving to sheath his sword once more. "You are likely going to use his body to protect yourself from my Light and even if I did kill him, you'd wait until you could possess another innocent, leaving me no way to banish you for a moment's peace. Could you at least tell me where in the world I can find Viomenta de Carnash?" he asked, name dropping the woman he had seen from the Curse's mind. "You are likely the only one who knows where and how far they are. Will you tell me at least that?"

The silence between Giovanni and The Curse lengthened for a moment, as Giovanni waited for an answer to his question.
He could sense that The Curse was considering its answer, for there was some hesitation in its demeanour.
Eventually it said, “It was far from here.    I ... I don’t understand your world.  And I was immediately bound into a man, and his bloodline.  This didn’t give me much of a insight or perception beyond his immediate.

No, no I don’t”, it finally admitted.   But then, it continued.
“But I sense that the old man does”, it said.  “I’ll give him back to you, but know this, little man, that you end this”, pointing to Giovanni and himself (taking his hand away from the fire to do so), “or I’ll show exactly how nasty I really can be”.

And darkness seemed to seep from the old man, then, oozing to the ground, and flowing towards Giovanni’s shadow.

The massive sigh of relief that escaped from Giovanni's chest was immense, as though an impossible pressure on his chest had been lifted. He was glad that he had somehow managed to spare the old man's life? Soul? Either-way, the Curse relented it's grasp on Torvil and bled it's way back into his own shadow, bringing with it that certain foreboding awareness back into his subconscious. Just as quickly, Giovanni rushed to the Old Man's side to catch him just in case The Curse's withdrawal left him even weaker than before.

"Torvil sir, are you okay?" he asked immediately doing his best to offer any assistance he could if it was needed. "I am sorry about what just occurred. I have no way of explaining it other than my Blessing did not deter it this time, and it sought to take control of your body to talk with me, or rather torment me and make demands with little understanding of my own nature. But, I did learn a great deal of things from this all the same. Can I get you anything? Water? I still have some things I must ask even more so than before, but I want to make sure you are okay."

It was several minutes later, that Giovanni and Torvil sat together outside: in the open air, and sunshine.
Torvil seemed to feel more comfortable out there, for some reason.  And he smoked a cigerette of his own making while the two each held a battered old tin mug of filtered water.

“Never wanna do that again,” he admitted to Giovanni, with a forced smile.   His face was still tight and slightly pale from the experience, “No sirree”.

It had been ‘an experience’ for the old man, but held prisoner with the darkness, he’d had the opportunity to gaze back into that Abyss further than he might have from the outside.
“This Curse was brought in to this world through an arcane technique that I am only peripherally familiar with”, he was explaining, “... researched and used primarily by the Black Acadamies in Raktine.
It’s a form of hybridisation: in which the summoner binds something from outside this world to this one with a part of their down soul.  This creates an anchor of sorts.   Not just gives the demon the ability and power to remain, but forces it to remain.   Binds it.

The only way, as I remember to undo this binding, is to return to the sorcerer that part of her soul”.

He looked at Giovanni a moment, as though weighing up how to tell the young man the last bit, “Strangely enough, that part of the sorcerer’s soul was ... her love”.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:58, Thu 26 Sept 2019.

Giovanni was far more relaxed as the rays of natural sunlight fell over him. Though he was in truth still concerned for the old man's health. He gave Torvill a strained smile of his own and nodded with silent agreement over the events that had happened minutes ago. Still, he listened as carefully and diligently as he could. From what he had learned from the Demon itself, he figured it's binding had been something like that conceptually, even if he hadn't know the specifics, what surprised him however was it's origins. He had another clue to work off of. The Black Academies of Raktine.

When Ol' Torvill mentioned how the binding could be undone...he nodded his head slowly, he had figured something to that effect as well. However, it was the next part that struck him the hardest. The Sorceress' love? He couldn't fathom Love being used for such a horrific and terrible means. Someone like himself, who barely knew what it meant to be loved, even he knew that Love was holy and powerful. It have it twisted and perverted like that was...unspeakable. Not to mention the ramifications of what that meant regarding the relationship between this sorceress and his grandfather.


"So, The Curse originates from the Black Academies, but the part of it that holds it to me, and thus this world is from the Sorceress herself." he said softly. "I don't suppose you'd recognize the name Viomenta de Carnash would you? It's a name I managed to pull from the Demon while it was holding your body and it's the one that should belong to said Sorceress."

“Not specifically,” Torvill said, a look of concern on his face.  He was about to elaborate, but lost control of his body to another fit of wracking cough, that brought another small array of blood flecks to his lips.

Once he recovered his composure, he went on, “The de Carnash are a large and powerful family in Raktine, though.
Dangerous to go after one of them ... let alone all”.
After a moments thought, he asked, “What makes you think she’d still be alive?”

Giovanno rubbed at his chin, feeling the stubble there graze and dig into his hand as he tried to think and contemplate  over the information Ol' Torvil had given him. His question was just as valid. "Well..." he began, taking in a deep breath. "The Curse originated from them, right?  And it's apart of them, like you said, It's literally apart of her Love. I figure, that means as long as the Curse is still Alive, that it's possible she would be too." he explained though it was obvious by the tone of his voice he wasn't sure at all and was more likely just trying to assure himself that he still had a strong lead to pursue.

"All in all, it just means that if I want to break this Curse in someway or another, it looks like I have to go to Raktine, the only uncertainty I have of that is...I don't know where that is." he added, still sounding uncertain.

He turned his full attention to the Old Man. "Regardless, if that's all the information that I can get, then it's far better than when I first arrived here. And I'm ready to take you to Long Nets as payment. Maybe while I'm there I can figure out to get to Raktine."

With a camaraderie smile, Torvill gave Giovanni a wink, "I can show you where Raktine is, and give you some tips on how to get there".  Ol' Torvill was an old man, who'd lived a long and educated life.  And right now, he felt a kinship with the young man before him that he hadn't felt in a very long time.

The two had experienced, in the last hour or so of knowing each other, some 'Serious Shit^tm' that had kinda brought the two together, onto a path that would have them working together for some time to come.
In truth, Torvill felt that, for him, this would undoubtedly be his 'Last Big Adventure^{also tm}'.

"They say there is no time like the present, eh!   'The longest journey starts with the first simple steps'.
If you give me a hand to pack up what I need from this place, we can start out by noon, I reckon.

We can talk more along the way".   He gazed off into he distances for a moment, into those stark, cold mountains to the south east, and frowned.   "Them thar mountains are the realm of Lagren, though:  the 'Lord of Flies'.   The small God of Disease ... an' to be honest, any God is something I'd prefer to avoid", he said, then looked Giovanni in the eye, "but I guess we don't have much choice now, do we?"


The morning was spent packing Torvill's essentials into two backsacks.  While the cabin was a treasure trove of information and education sources ... books, maps, tomes, journals ... Torvill was bringing precious little of it with him.  The two of them couldn't carry much, given the distance and terrain they expected to travel, and the fact was, Torvill was preparing to travel home ... to die.
He was, in all fact, done with this life.

What he packed was clothes, pillows and blankets, food and water ... with a few small books that looked like personal journals and/or diaries (possibly to share with any family he expected to find in LongNet).
And for Giovanni: a compendium of the realm.  A 'book of the world' which included some maps ... to teach the young man with him as much as he could upon their trek.

A couple of hours later, the two stood outside the cabin, backsack's loaded and ready to go.
Torvill was wondering if Giovanni felt it appropriate that "we set this place a burnin' before we leave?"
This message was lightly edited by the player at 23:16, Thu 03 Oct 2019.

"That is extremely generous of you," Giovanni replied, bowing his head a bit before he set out to do his best to help the old man pack up whatever possessions he want to bring. Once they were all set, he offered to help carry anything that would ease the Torvil's burden as they traveled. He was even more blown away by the gift of the Compendium. It was quite possibly the only real gift he had ever been given by another person. Though he had survived for a long time under harsh conditions that would bring any other Reachman to shame, his struggle to survive had left very little opportunity to educate himself beyond the ability to talk and read Vagabond symbols. Still, the pictures would be nice and whatever the Old Man wanted to teach him, he was more than willing to commit to memory.

When Torvil brought up the dangers of crossing the Omen Peaks and looked into Giovanni's eyes. "Well, if we can, hopefully we can avoid their notice. I have no business with them, but if this 'God of Disease'  stops us, then I am assured that my Curse will be responsible for it, but I will do my best to protect you all the same."


When everything was all packed up and ready to go and the two of them stood outside the cabin. looking at it. Giovanni pondered over his question. "It is your home or rather...was. If you would like it destroyed, I think I can do that for you."

With a curious sideways look, Torvill said, "What, you mean like 'destroy it' using that incredible light you generate?"
Then, with a grin that crept across his face, "Sure, Ok".

He'd pretty much decided to torch the place anyway, but hadn't thought to do so with anything but regular, mundane fire.
The thought of watching his young companion set the place ablaze with his strange magic was ... well, exciting.

The cabin as a treasure trove of knowledge and items.  But Torvill knew that he couldn't take it all with him.
He'd packed what was essentially important, and was (to his surprise) ready to let the rest go.  What was left was, in truth, the remnants of his life.   He was, he knew, going home to die now.  He had no more use for this stuff, even if he might want to horde it.

But leaving it behind for the villagers was a vain and useless gesture: they couldn't make nothing of it.
The only people nearby who might make use of it, Torvill didn't want getting their grubby hands onto it ... for he was sure that they would only use it for 'evil' purposes.



Either way, with the cabin blazing far behind them, the company of two began the journey of a thousand miles(?).
Torvill explained, as they walked, "There is an old trade route, through the southern mountain passes' pointing to the lower peaks ahead of them.
The Omen Peaks were the mountain range that ran down the spine of the Bleak Reach.  The higher, central peaks were not worth considering, as a method of travel, but towards each end, as the mountains pestered off, trade routes had been forged.

"We could go north," he said, turning and looking back behind them at the far horizon, "Which would take us away from Lagren's domain.  But," and he gave a shiver.  Although it was as cold as usual, Giovanni got the impression that the chill the old man experienced had less to do with the cold, than with the thought that came with the unfinished sentence.

Returning his attention to the south-east, Old Torvill continued on .... walking and chatting.

As nightfall approached, it occurred to Giovanni that the two might be having to find somewhere to camp.  He couldn't see any signs of a village in the near distance ... but the foothills they travelled into didn't provide much of a view, though.
Maybe Torvill had a plan, somewhere he was headed to?

When Torvil gave Giovanni his blessing to destroy the Cabin, the Vagabond moved to a spot nearby from where he could feel the sun's natural light wash over him. Slowly, he took in a deep breath uncertain if his idea would even work but given how...Connected he felt to the Sun and it's life giving Radiance, he felt he was sure he could achieve the task he desired to achieve.

With a calm and clear mind, putting all thoughts of the Curse and the upcoming journey from his mind, Giovanni focused on the sensation of the Light. Feeling how it caressed over his rough and ragged form. How it warmed him. How it filled him with the Strength he needed to make it from day to day. He focused on those divine and celestial feelings, a soft smile forming in the corners of his lips as he reached down for that Blessing he felt Bound to him, feeling as it reached out for the Light as he would, letting their energies co-mingle with one another within him. Like he had before he drew the Light into his very being, letting it fill him with it's Comforting glow and as the moments passed he touched that Passion he felt within him. The Source of his own Drive to Survive and Press Ever Onward, infusing that Light even more with his Blessing. He could feel it, in a metaphysical sense, how the Light within him took on a nebulous and ephemeral shape. He Could Mold the Sunlight to his Whims and guide it how he saw fit. And in his Mind, he knew what he wanted to do.

As Naturally as he wielded the Blade that was safely sheathed at his side, he lifted his hand up high, pointing directly to where the Sun was positioned high within the Sky and he opened his eyes, the Divine Radiance spilling forth from his eyes with a deep glowing intensity. That was when the sunbeam that was falling upon him began to move...in fact all rays of Sunlight in the immediate vicinity moved, each one of them being directed toward Torvil's Cabin. His home. A Place of Shelter and Security. The entire building was awash in the focused Radiance of the Sun.

That was when, with a snarl of forced effort, Giovanni swung his hand down firmly and finally, as though he was swinging his sword in a decisive slash and a Beam of Pure Concentrated Sunlight shot from the Sun and Smote the Cabin with a furious blast of raw divine Might, smashing through the roof and setting the inside and the entire building itself a blaze in concentrated heat, reducing the modest home into a pit of burning fire.

It was literal moments later when the natural rays of light shifted back to their natural path and Giovanni stumbled to a knee, panting as the Light dispersed from his body. He was sweating and panting from the effort and he looked to the Old Man with a tired but pleasantly surprised look upon his features.



After a short moment to rest, Giovanni walked with Torvil in the direction he preferred, the south-east trade road. "While, I feel as though I would have no issues going North in most circumstances, It would likely be best for us to travel the quickest Path, lest we induce the Ire of My Curse. But, as I said, if Troubles finds us regardless, I will do my best." he assured.

Once Nightfall began to approach. Giovanni kept his thoughts to himself, instead letting Torvil guide and lead as he desired. Instead, he let the years of being a Wandering Vagabond serve him, keeping an eye out for potential sources of food, shelter, and safety just in case they could not find such a place themselves.

OOC: Giovanni basically used a Miracle to Smite Torvil's Home, which in essence made him even more tired than normal. I hope this is okay, but since he used a Miracle, that means he has used up all 3 of his Effort until he can reclaim it.

Also, he is making a Wisdom Check (18) Vs (3) with his Fact to make sure he can find Torvil and himself someplace to set up camp if it is needed.

18:51, Today: Giovanni rolled 23 using 1d20+4.  Wisdom vs 3+.

Within hours, the burning husk of Torvill's old home was but a mere flickering pinpoint in the darkening shadows behind them.

And nighttime approached.
Torvill hadn't spoken much as the pair had travelled; saving himself for the journey.

Awesome Wisdom roll: Giovanni has aced this task for this night ... and set precedence for future nights also, as we'll not be roleplaying every night.
Evening fell.   And many harsh years of travelling this forsaken, unforgiving land had given Giovanni the experiences and foresight that he needed to find the two a safe place to stay the night.

It was a small crevice in a broken canyon, which provided excellent protection from the elements, and little chance of their camp being spotted by interlopers and the like ... even with the small fire that Giovanni was able to set for them.
So long as it was kept small, the fire would adequately (barely, but enough) warm the small rock fissure, and give off little smoke.

While Giovanni was able to hunt a few small rodents and birds, Ol' Torvill advised against cooking or consuming such, and definitely declined any himself, muttering something about, "This land of disease, these creatures".
But some small measure of vegetation could be found; and from a small, clean pool of water that Giovanni found, a soup of sorts was eventually warmed over the small fire.


After eating, and by the light of a burning branch, Torvill took open the tome he'd gifted Giovanni, and began (between coughs and splutters, that were definitely worse in the cold night air) teaching the 'young fella' something of the world ... starting with the Bleak Reach, and its place within the Realm.

He explained in detail, and showed Giovanni upon the map, where they were, and the Omen Peaks ... and LongNets, way to the south, across those 'accursed' mountains.

And after an hour or so, the old man could barely keep his eyes open, and fell asleep against the hard rock ... leaving Giovanni, tired, gazing at the tome and map.


Giovanni couldn't stay up all night, to watch.  But he'd had to sleep the night prior in this unwelcoming world, and did so tonight no differently ... even, asleep, alert for hints of danger.


Come the morning, Giovanni sensed the Sun rising, even before he saw it.  Even before he opened his eyes in that dark crack of earth.
It filled him with warmth, spiritually, and reignited his soul with Effort and determination.

Following Torvil's advice, Giovanni prepared a safe and nourishing, if meager soup for the two of them, listening to what the old man had to tell him. He was glad to have found this crevice, and in truth was far more able to rest in such a place, though he couldn't help but wonder if Torvil would be able to adjust to it.

Once they were fed, Giovanni watched and listened to what Torvil and to teach him, listening carefully and watching where he pointed at along the Compendium. Once the lessons were over, he stayed up later, looking over the information between the book and the map, as though he was attempting to will himself to keep the information stored within his mind. Then, ocne the siren song of slumber grew too hard to resist, he settled himself down as comfortable as he could make himself, as he had done so many times before, and settled in to rest silently, his body positioned just so that he could spring to the ready in a heartbeat should a predatory or bandit chanced upon their hiding spot.



He awoke when the Sun began to grace the land with it's light, something subconscious within him matching the exact moment as the light barely began to show even the faintest hints of light over the horizon. He took in a deep breath, feeling himself recharged by it and the exhaustion of his Blessing having fading. He was ready for anything that could happen.

Once he was fully awake, he took stock of his surroundings. Making sure Torvil was still there and alive first and foremost.

Torvill was certainly still alive, and woke when his senses told them that Giovanni was moving about nearby.
That cough the old man had racked him again, as he began to stir, though ... and although Giovanni suspected that the old man was a tough nut, and had probably survived a great deal more than most people, the disease that was eating away his lungs and chest within was a true curse in itself.

But ablutions and morning preparations done, the two set off again across the ragged, unwelcoming terrain ... again, towards the south east, towards the lowered horizon of craggy skyline through with travel was both possible and pre-engineered.

Torvill chatted as the two travelled.   It was more rambling anecdotes than any true imparting of knowledge; but he spoke of the land, and his life, history, and what Giovanni could expect as they travelled ... both into the southern parts of the Bleak Reach, and beyond.

This side of the Omen Mountain range was desolate, apparently, Giovanni learned.  By comparison, the land south of the mountains was much more populated, with outposts and farming communities.  The weather less harsh, and the land slightly more arable.  As would be expected, the greatest communities were along the coastline, where fishing could supplement the farming, and trade was possible with the 'mighty' nations beyond ... The Bright Republic, Vissio and The Patrian Empire.

Communities were rare, this side of the crags, focused on the occasions boons the land provided.  Often, one could travel for days without coming across a village.   Once they had crossed the spine of the world, they could expect to find communities spaced about a day or so apart.


And so it was, the two travelled.  And it was, indeed, only on the third day that the two came into sight of a township ... one of the bigger ones that Giovanni had ever seen.  Torvill named it 'Suttons Ridge', and explained that it was a mining town.  The community there a Oligarchy, ruled by the very rich and dominant Hersh family who'd made built their powerbase from the ore's their 'employees' drew from the ground, and which they sent north, trading with The Atheocracy of Lom and The Ulstang Skerries (these were places that Torvill spent time educating Giovanni about that night, as they camped one last time in the barren wilderness before reaching Suttons Ridge).

Torvill warned Giovanni that such towns had very rigid and unforgiving laws, and lawgivers.  But that, if they wanted to trade for more food and replacement provisions, they would have no 'better' or other choice, before they came upon the mountain trade road.

Giovanni listened and kept a watch out as they traveled, doing his best to try and find the best paths for them to walk upon to ease Torvil's body. He was fascinated by the old man's anecdotes and when asked, he would try his best to offer his own, though most of them were of the years of hardship and misfortune that had followed him since he had been a young child, so they were heavily truncated.

When they reached the outskirts of Suttons Ridge, Giovanni began to look uneasy and apprehensive, slowly shaking his head. "I have no money and I don't think they would take too kindly to either of us... and my Curse typically comes to power in such places...but, if you prefer, I can try and barter with them for any supplies you have require." he said to the Old Man.

It was true that the two needed supplies.  Giovanni was truly a survivor, and knew how to make the most of the land, but most of the time, there was barely enough to source for one stomach, let alone two.
Water was running out, and they could do with more flint, a couple of extra blankets, and rations to supplement the meagre scavenging of the environment.
And Torvill really could do with various herbal remedies that would aid his health during their travels.

Further more, if mounts could be arranged, or travel with a caravan perhaps, it might make the journey through the mountain passways swifter ... and safer?

Ol' Torvill had some coin, but Giovanni was concerned:  keeping the old man with him was the safest thought, but taking Torvill into the town would slow them down, and would need protecting should anything happen in those streets.
Alone, Giovanni could move faster, and protect himself better: but would be less likely to find the right medicines and herbs for the old man (who would have a much better idea what to purchase).

Right now, Torvill seemed to believe that they two would enter town together ... but Giovanni realised that he could possibly convince the old man to remain behind, in some hidden location.

After pondering over it for a time, Giovanni nodded his head and looked to Torvil. "If you have the money to purchase supplies, it will be quicker and safer to send me in by myself alone. I fear that with how you describe them, they would not take kindly to your illness and I am double worried that my Curse will exploit that. If I am quick, I can get our supplies rapidly with little concern for either. I will find you a safe shelter to rest up and hide within and you can tell me what Laws and customs I should be mindful of so I don't break or offend in my efforts."

Ol' Torvill frowned, and shrugged, "Thats the problem.   Its a insular world in there; the only law is the word of the Hersh family.   And I've never been there.
It's safe to assume that any activity that threatens or damages their operations and trade will be responded to ... harshly", 'to say the least', "but otherwise, its hard to say.
Oh, there'll be a lot of traders and merchants that are not part of the Hersh operations.  Those syncaphanic remora who are making their living from the needs of the unwashed masses.   Horse traders, kitchens, clothiers, apothecaries.
And they'll have their own operations and rules ... so long as they don't disturb the mining, and the subsequent trade.

So in truth, I don't know what to expect; and you're going to have to think in your feet.
But you've survive till now, right?

Here," he fished out the coins, and some 'tradable' resources from his pack, and handed them over to Giovanni, "Do what you can with this.  Trade 'em for services and stuff.  Hell, maybe you'll find some way to 'earn' some extra", he said.
Torvill had no way of knowing whether Giovanni was stilled pickpocket, for example; or had skills he might trade.
"I could do with some better shoes.  Some Neti Pot, some Hawthorn ... and any Holy Basil you can get your grubbies on.
And food, of course.   Water.

Hell, if you can steal some horses," he suggested, because the sure as hell couldn't afford such, "that'll make travel faster, 'as we ride like the buggery to escape the lynch mob'.

"But it'll be up to you, lad.  Your intuition, your skills, your brains and mouth".

It was late afternoon before Giovanni found someplace in which he felt Torvill might be safe till his return ... and had to decide whether to leave the old man now, and go into town under the cover of darkness (when things will be quieter, darker, and possible watched over by some sort of Watch), or wait till the dawning of the next day.

Giovanni silently listened to Torvil's advice, nodding his head and doing his best to try and commit as much as he could to memory. Then, once the trade goods and money were given to him, he lead Torvil to a safe and secure spot and thinking it over once he saw how late it was. The Sun setting into a golden pale brown, like that of spoiled beer he winched and made to return to Torvil as well.

"The sun sets faster that I care to admit, and I fear that is when I myself may be most vulnerable. I will head into town first thing in the morning when everyone is likely awake and not tired or stressed from the day's business. For now, let's camp here and go over the details once more. Tell me about the medicines and herbs you would like again. I'd rather not get confused when I ask about for them since those are what I will likely have the most trouble with and I would rather not be cheated." he explained, and while he was speaking true, he knew deep inside him that he was also concerned. There were plenty of reasons he had for avoiding such settlements and if he must, then he would go when he could be at the height of his power.

Another night among the rocks.
It wasn’t good for the old man; the ground was, compared to any bed, uncomfortable.  And while they two stayed wrapped, with a small fire warming their niche, the nights were frigid this far north.
Giovanni was young and strong, and had known little better for the recent part of his life.  But Ol’ Torvill’s cough was much worse in this cold night air, and woke them both regularly during the night.


When morning dawned, Giovanni was awoken by the sounds of yonder township ... which carried far in these rocky surrounds.
It woke with shouts and clanging, animal sounds and clanking of tools and machinery.

After seeing to his companion, Giovanni made his way down the craggy hillside, to a small road nearby, then turned towards the largest gathering of trade and community that he’d ever seen:  a thriving, pulsing, somewhat-lawless centre of mercantile opportunity and chaos.


Please, feel free to narrate Giovanni’s entry into the city as you see fit.

With the dawning of the Sun came renewed strength and vigor for Giovanni, as he was always the first to rise and get ready with it's slowly growing accent. He made sure to try and help Torvil out as he could to have as safe and comfortable as he could be in that small alcove among the rocks. Once he had everything together, he did his best to try and make his own appearance look less...haggard and destitute. Road weary would certainly be understandable, but the vagabond and the homeless had a distinct look that would draw many a cruel glance. So he would need to do his best to avoid that.

As he made his way to Sutton's Ridge, he found himself passing through the now open gates and into the township proper, filled with the cacophony of life and trade. There were, by Giovanni's estimation, tons of people moving about, yelling, haggling, trading with one another. The sound of metal being worked and crafted joining in high. Of course, as one of the destitute, life had given the man the ability to keep his awareness in such large and crowded settlements during his few visits to them. He kept a wary eye out for cut-purses and pickpockets who all typically moved with large groups of people to better ply their trade and so he moved confident, like a road weary traveler tired from a long distance and with little patience, to deter those who might consider him an easy mark for being someone new to the township.

As he moved and looked about, Giovanni did his best to survey what he was looking for. Food, Medicine, and Sundry goods. He was keeping an eye for anyone selling those specifically. Once he had those secure, he would try and see what he could do for horses. He wanted to be out of here as soon as possible.

This city was a throbbing metropolis, by any standard that Giovanni had ever experienced.
The crowds of the unwashed masses was overwhelming and maddening as people, horses, carts and sundry shoved and bustled through the crowds.

The sounds and smells joined the movement and activity, making the whole cacophonic miasma a cesspool of activity and confusion.
Giovanni, with your next narrative, please give us a Wisdom Check.  This will serve as an indicator to how well he finds the items/merchants that you search for ... and how well he can spot cut-purses and pickpockets.

The streets were filled, along with those travelling and transporting, with street vendors and merchants ... yelling their wares and looking for sales.
The smells of the city included the subtle and enticing aromas of many food stalls; and Giovanni was immediately and intently aware of how empty his stomach was (as always), and felt a yearning to partake of the substances on offer.

Livestock vendors got in his face, seemingly materialising out of the crowds, hoping to elicit purchases through intimidating and surprise.

And along the way, Giovanni saw posters for some kind of Gladiatorial event, an ongoing and everyday entertainment here in Sutton's Ridge, it seemed.   'Two men enter, One many leaves' the scrawled writing suggested, directing interest towards the 'Stormvault' (wherever that might be), promising great monetary rewards to the victors of such entertainment.


And in one alleyway, Giovanni's attention was drawn to the scene of a young kid, being brutally intimidated by three young men ... held at knifepoint against a wall, and looking very scared.

Further ahead, a group of somewhat uniformed soldiers strode menacingly, and self-importantly, through the crowd ... leering, currently, as a young woman selling turnips and root vegetables.

Using his Fact of having grown up as a vagabond, he'd be aware of all sorts of tricks and traps that pickpockets and cut-purses would use, often having had been the victim of them himself before in the past.

08:00, Today: Giovanni rolled 10 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 6.  Wisdom vs 3+

As he walked through the crowd, keeping himself safe and secure as best as he could, Giovanni tried his best to avoid the food mongers that pushed themselves on him insistently. The smell of the food made his stomach rumble and beg for more, but he would have to tolerate it. The small amount of money he had, he had to use for Torvil. If he was going to buy food, it would have to be safe to keep and be able to travel well. However, what he wanted to get the most was the medicines and supplies. Though the suggestion for horses stuck in his mind often. Faster travel would be of great assistance.

And though he was still learning to read as much as Torvil taught, he could figure out the premise of the gladiatorial fights. He had seen similar on a much smaller scale of those who had money tempt and force the homeless to fight one another for it or scraps of food. He himself had even participated in such events. It was a tempting offer, but, he also figured if he participated now...he'd draw way to much attention than was wise. However, it would still be the easiest way to make money...

He decided, he would save that as a last resort if needed and instead refocused on finding the important supplies he needed the most.

Sutton's Ridge was bustled and pulsed and throbbed about Giovanni, as he manoeuvred through the unwashed masses.
It took him many hours to find each of the items he sought, with the herbal medicines being the hardest to locate and negotiate for.

By midday, Giovanni was somewhat pushing the resources at his disposal to their limit, but he had at least a small quantity of each herb that Ol' Torvill had requested.   What little coin and time he had left would be spent choosing rations for the two that were both portable and had some longevity.
Horses, unfortunately, were well beyond his means now.

His stomach grumbled, too ... when he felt the familiar jolt from a passerby, and a small hand within the folds of his fur and clothing.

He was glad to have found what supplies he could though the unfamiliarity of this place meant it took him sometime to find exactly what he was looking for and soon the hours began to pass. He had been on his way to secure food and rations when he felt the telltale sensation of someone attempting to burgle from him. A small hand by the feeling of things, so if he made a scene, the likely child would have the benefit of the doubt and could make cause a commotion in his favor that got Giovanni in trouble instead, especially if the guardsmen where corrupt.

Instead of directly confronting the sneak thief, Giovanni quickly opted to turn and bend himself against the small searching hand, and if possible step into the nearest shop to dissuade the little pickpocket from following him further, but once inside a building, Giovanni was sure he could work on even ground without risking a danger to himself.

The manoeuvre was sufficient to dislocate from the would-be thief; and moments later, Giovanni found himself indoors of a small bookstore.  It was the kind of store, lacking in any significant level of regular clientele, that fitted into 'a hole in the wall' between the neighbouring black smithery, and tavern.

It was small, musty, and empty of anything other person except the old woman sleeping behind the counter at the back of the store.
The tiny place barely held the two freestanding sets of shelves cramped into the interior, along with the two walls (creating three narrow aisles) that led towards the back of the store.

The old lady snored, and it was obvious to Giovanni that she expected, and got, very few customers.


But he was not followed in to the establishment, and even as he turned his eyes back out into the street, could not tell who out there might have tried to pilfer his last coins.

Giovanni let out a sigh of relief as he escaped from the pickpocket. He wasn't afraid of them, but he had been stressed over any altercation that could possibly draw down the ire of others. When he stopped and took a look around the shop, he was pleasantly surprised to find how strange and quaint it was. He knew time was growing short for him, so, he opted to try and see if he could find his supplies here. Browsing through the selves and aisles quietly so as to not to disturb the old woman who was slumbering. If he found what he could use, then he would gently wake her, but if he couldn't make a purchase, then there would be no need.

It was unlikely that this place would hold anything he needed; it was, after all, a small book store, and unlikely to carry herbs, furs or horses.  But Giovanni saw no reason not to take the place in; after all, if only this, it would give him a few minutes respite from the rat-race outside.

He moved quietly off into the store, stepping around the snoozing old lady at the counter, and into the darkened aisle nearby.
He was adept at moving with such grace, and remaining for the most part unremarkable. A skill, or way of life, Giovanni had become used to living on the fringes of many dangerous communities since he was a kid.

And so it was that he became aware of the darkened figure at the back of the store, without said darkened figure noticing him.
Maybe it was Giovanni’s inconspicuous nature, maybe combined with the fact that the figure seemed to be focused on a large, bulky tome it held open in its hands.

Upon the floor at the figures feet, lay the body of an elderly man.
And as Giovanni took in the scene, the darkened figure turned slightly, perhaps to catch more elusive light upon the pages it was reading; and it muttered to itself as it read.
Giovanni recognised the sound of the language, and the dialect in the voice.  He noticed, also, the pale hand holding the tome.
The ‘darkened figure’, wearing a dark cloak, was one of the Winter Men ... a denizen of the frozen wasteland of the far north isles.

Rumours abounded about that race of ‘men’.  Rumours like: long ago, the race interbred with undead things, or spirits of cold and snow, and have become ... less than human ... and more adept at living in their icey homelands.

He’d seen few in his life, for they mostly stayed to the frigid oceans and the unwelcoming islands of Ulstrang Skerries.
And right now, this one seemed more sinister than any he’d ever witnessed: standing here in the dark, a body at its feet, muttering over some unknown tome.

Giovanni, as he came across the scene before him, was quite figuratively frozen to his spot. he dare not get any closer lest he announce his presence to the Winter Man, but nor could he reasonably turn and leave either. The body at the winter man's feet, he couldn't tell if they were unconscious or dead and he dreaded the answer, but it looked as though something sinister was unfolding here. Was this the power of his Curse at work? He wasn't sure. If he did try and leave, to draw attention to what had happened, it was far more likely that a Vagrant like himself would be blamed and the Winter Man would be nowhere in sight. If he attacked the strange person from the Northern Isles...he had no idea of their relatively strength or ability. What he needed was Information...Answers. Recalling when he had been able to reach out and tap into the Curse's mind when he had possessed Torvil, he sought that feeling again, reaching inside of himself and willing his power to Follow those threads of Power that flowed into the Winter Man. While he was undetected, this would give him the means to assess the situation better. He only hoped he had enough time.

OOC: Giovanni is using his Gift of Passion: Follow the Threads to Identify the 6 most emotionally significant people important to them- their names, appearances, and a few words to describe the bond between them. Lesser Foes can't resist, while worthy foes can save verses Spirit.

- rolled 17 using 1d20 with rolls of 17.  Spirit Save to resist Follow the Threads (13+).

Giovanni reached inside of himself and willed his power to Follow those threads of Power that flowed into the Winter Man.
And in that moment, felt the his power fail him, as it seemed that as he looked deep into the man before him, his search was dissolved by a cold, harsh wind that flowed back into Giovanni and send a proverbial shiver down his spine.

And in that moment, the winter man froze a moment ... then began to turn.
Giovanni has the merest flicker of a second to choose his reaction, before the other man’s eye came upon him.