Community / Forums / Gamer Life / Gaming / Campaign Journals Journal of a Spell-less Ranger (probably the 100th journal telling a RotRL campaign) Campaign Journals Search Thread Search this Thread: 1 to 50 of 281 << first < prev | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | next > last >> Tomi Heikkinen 5 people marked this as a favorite. Hi all This January I popped my cherry as a D&D and Pathfinder player when I joined four other more or less experienced players and a DM and began a Pathfinder campaign, Rise of the Runelords to be more specific. Right from the start I wanted to write down our experiences, mainly to my own enjoyment, and theirs. But as the story went on and the document kept becoming longer and longer, I wanted to share it with you guys, to get some feedback. Hopefully you'll enjoy it too. English is not my native tongue - not an excuse of course, just to be clear. We've now finished the first book, and have started the other, so I've got a lot of material (10 chapters, ~35 000 words) ready, so I'll vomit the finished material first, then do updates at a slower pace (depending on a) how much we play and b) how much I'm arsed to write). Without further ado, this is their story, told from the viewpoint of one cynical, broken and possibly, I've realized, a bit sociopathic lvl1 ranger. Tomi Tomi Heikkinen 1 person marked this as a favorite. 1. PROLOGUE I'm on nobody's side because nobody is on my side. Not anymore. That is my guideline and that has kept me alive in this dangerous, petty and harsh world. My name is Alpharius. Don't ask for my family name, because I don't have one. I'm a bastard son of an elven warrior and a human farmer's daughter. No, Alpharius is not my name given by my mother. It's a name given by my former lord and owner, wealthy merchant and ruthless slaver called Horryn. I was born in the small village of Ravenhill, in north-western Molthune, close to the border to Nirmanthas. Though situated in the contested area between the nations, Ravenhill was an inconspicuous, insignificant village that offered nothing but a simple, hard life of peasantry and hunting. I'm still young, by both elven and human standards, but that life feels like something from a history book. A golden dream, something to feel warmly nostalgic about if it wouldn't hurt to remember. I was eight when Horryn's raiding party came across our little village. I recall the black horses, shouts and the tension, children huddling at the feet of their mothers, fathers looking warily at the armed men. Our village elders had slighted him somehow, as they turned against us, killing the men, raping the women and taking them and children as slaves before burning the village down. I'll never know why it happened. But it doesn't really matter anymore, does it? That day, we killed one of his soldiers, me and my twin brother. Horryn and a group of burly, rugged soldiers entered our small cabin on the side of the forest, outside the village. Their sergeant slew our grandfather with a single blow of his battle-axe and laid his hands on Mother. Somehow, we had the courage to protect her as we sprang into action: my brother stabbed the sergeant with his rusty short sword and I finished him with an arrow to the heart. That was my first kill. Looking back, I think Horryn found it amusing to see two half-elven boys best one of his sergeants. We didn't get a chance to save ourselves or our mother. I didn't see what happened to her. I feared the worst. I never saw my mother again as me and my brother were both overpowered, chained, thrown into a wagon and sent off to Canorate, capital of Molthune. Undoubtedly it was my skill with the bow and my brother's with the sword that kept Horryn from selling us. We had practically lived in the forest - I guess we had our elven blood to thank for it - and came to know our way in the wilds. This of course had irritated the villagers and our family who would've rather seen us toil in the farms and meadows like normal people. Other children, pure-blood humans, particularly gave us a hard time. Horryn on the other hand saw the raw talent we had and selected us into his personal entourage of martial slaves - boys, girls, men, women - from all races that he trained to become his bodyguards, gladiators, assassins and so on. We were both quite adept trackers and hunters, which Horryn quickly took note of, and had his officers and other martial slaves train us further. My brother and I were extremely attuned to our surroundings, quick to note if something was wrong or out of place or if someone was deceitful. Neither of us had the raw strength and mad lust for blood required of a successful gladiator, so I was destined to become one of our master's assassins and man-hunters, while my brother would join his bodyguard. We trained and drilled continuously, learning the skills required to become killers. As part of my training I went out with Horryn's bands tracking and eliminating fugitive slaves, people who had borrowed money and never repaid Horryn, people who had stolen from him, his competitors, and so on. My brother stayed by his side, protecting him from enemies, tasting his foods and patrolling his grounds as one of his personal guard. To keep us humble and to break our will, we were beaten and humiliated regularly. All the boys and girls in Horryn's stock of slaves eventually succumbed and turned into broken husks of people with servitude as their sole reason of existence. But we solemnly promised each other to stay true and avenge our family - and escape together when the time would come. Ultimately our time would never come but Horryn would later realize that training us was his worst mistake. No - his worst mistake was to send my brother to die. I don't know of the exact details of the mission Horryn sent him to - I only know it was a task outside of the city and one that he was never expected to return alive. After his supposed time of return from the mission I waited for him for seven days and seven nights before I made the biggest, boldest decision of my live: I would kill Horryn, and I would run, and I would find my brother, whether he was alive or dead. I had to wait for another two weeks before I could move against Horryn. I didn't have the luxury of killing him face to face, but crushing his windpipe and neck arteries and splitting his heart with two well placed arrows while he was raping a young slave girl in his master bedroom suited me quite well. I admit I was not the honorable type - rather, I was and I will always be pragmatic. Then I ran like I'd never run before, through the estates of the rich and into the squalor of the Docks of Canorate. Horryn's second-in-command, one particularly sadistic and ambitious captain and trader called Pontus personally led my chase. I was barely staying alive in the city, but when I finally reached the swamps and forests outside the city, the playing field was leveled. I've always felt more at home in the wild. They kept after me for a month, almost catching me many times before finally quitting their pursuit. Granted, putting an arrow through Pontus's head helped them decide to leave me be. At least that was what I initially believed - later would-be-assassins of mine proved that House Horryn was still very keen on killing me. That was seven years ago. Since then I've wandered the both the civilized lands and the wilds in solitude. I have travelled around Lake Encarthan, from Molthune to Kyonin, to Razmiran and Nirmathas, and across the Mindspin Mountains to Varisia. I am searching for my brother, looking for clues, never trusting anyone with too much of my past and my intentions, moving and evading House Horryn's agents - and never taking sides nor bowing to no master or god, settling down with no woman even though I've met and fallen in love with one. For some reason, I've kept my slave name rather than taking my old name back - perhaps to remind me of my brother and my past. I've barely earned my keep with bounty hunting but it has kept me on the road. My toll of successful hunts, captured men and kills has risen slowly if steadily, while my hope to uncover the fate of my brother crumbles. Everywhere I arrive, I leave without any leads. My latest bounty has brought me far to the borderlands in old colony of Varisia, to the city of Sandpoint to be more exact. I don't think I can find answers here, but I must walk these lands, even though something seems to be wrong with this place.. - Alpharius Tomi Heikkinen 1 person marked this as a favorite. 2. COLLISION AT SANDPOINT

Year 4707, Autumn Equinox, 22nd of Rova, Starday

The Docks, Sandpoint The day was warm when I arrived to Sandpoint. It was midday and the sun was in its apex. Two weeks earlier I had left Korvosa by galley, with a simple task at hand. "Bring the boy back, dead or alive. Preferably alive", my latest employer, a Korvosan merchant had instructed me. His youngest son, barely a man grown, had ran away from the city with his man-lover. "I don't care really. That mewling, stubborn boy has brought our family so much pain and humiliation.. but his mother wants to have him back safe.. Mothers." I think I was the only bounty hunter offering services to the man, so he had to choose me, a rather young and inexperienced hunter who had just arrived and had no name to himself. I had accepted the job even though it paid almost nothing - the merchant obviously cared little what happened to his son. Now, here I was, looking for a boy who wanted to become a bard in a family of stiff upper lipped traders and who had the misfortune to born loving cocks instead of c*$%s. The old, worn galley slided into berth as the captain shouted orders to his crew to begin disembarkation. I threw my backpack to the pier and leaped off the deck, scaring a flock of seagulls. It felt good to be on solid ground again. The little fishing town was jubilant. All around, masses of people were making their way through the streets. Many were singing or playing music and wearing colourful clothing. Magicians and musicians entertained the folk at the street sides, while street vendors sold different varieties of foods and religious trinkets, shouting their prices of the day to everyone and no-one in particular. I assumed that it was a celebration of the harvest or other summer's end festival and decided to head to the city center. There I'd find the best inns and taverns and had the best opportunity of hearing something about my dandy target. Drunken tongues are loose tongues, I reminded myself. Making my way through the crowds, I found myself half an hour later at the town plaza. A cathedral stood proudly over the square. While it was nothing compared to the palaces and basilisks of Canorate, it easily dwarfed the houses around it. The locals had constructed a wooden platform before the main entrance and several official looking men and women were standing on it, waiting for someone or something. It seemed that I had just arrived in time to hear some public speaking. People, men, women and children, were gathering in front of the platform. I remained back, quietly observing the folk. A long-haired, muscular grunt with a massive earthbreaker slung across his back was shouting insults, shoving people and making his way closer to the platform. I frowned, feeling contempt. The barbarian was drawing the attention of several town guards, but they were unwilling to act. A wise decision, I considered. Closer to me, a stocky dwarf tiptoed, trying to see farther above the heads and shoulders of taller men. I overheard him cursing under his breath about bringing the other shoes. I let my gaze wander. Dozens of people had arrived by now and the plaza was getting full. Among the crowd I made fleeting eye contact with a young girl in a fire red cloak. She regarded me with her beautiful, but so very sad and pained eyes before turning away and drawing her hood further over her head. At the platform, Sandpoint's mayor, a middle-aged woman called Deverin, took the stage. I didn't pay attention to her, but kept observing my surroundings, trying to find my target. Instead I noticed a dirty-looking half-orc at the other side of the plaza. I could smell him, but I resented it not, rather feeling a bit of connection. He had the smell of the forest about him. People were taking great care to leave empty space between themselves and the creature. Typical men, so fearful and hateful of the half-orcs, I muttered to myself. The half-orc didn't seem to mind though and kept peering at the stand silently. The mayor finished her speech and let the city sheriff forward. This time, I focused to hear his name, Belor. Gruff, serious, little with words this man Belor was, I noted. He talked very briefly and was followed by a much more livelier person, Drokkus - owner of the town theater. I committed to memory his name and face, as he'd be a good person to ask about my target. As the last speaker, the high-priest of Sandpoint, Zantus took the stage. Like Belor, the high-priest was economic with his words, addressing the deceased previous high-priest with a moment of silence before baptising the cathedral, which I just then realized was recently built. Thankfully, the speeches were quickly over and the crowd dispersed a bit. Normal fair fuss ensued at the plaza as vendors re-opened their stalls and music continued. They offered tastes of exotic foods and innkeeps let the beer and wine flow. I made my way across the plaza aimlessly for now, stopping here and there, taking it all in. One man overseeing a tent with an archery range and other martial games shouted at me. "Hey, hey! Sir Archer”, apparently noting the longbow at my back, “do enter the competition of the best bowman in Sandpoint, yes?" I regarded the man bleakly, but he didn't take a hint but kept shouting at me, trying to win me over. "Sir Archer, I see you have a great composite longbow, surely you'd entertain us with your skill?" I shook my head. "I think I will pass, thank you." Without a blink the man chose his next victim. "You sir, oh great warrior!" He shouted to someone behind me. "Come and test your considerable strength! Strike the iron goblin and make the bell ring", he urged, pointing at a high striker with a leering iron goblin as the lever and bright red bell at the top. I turned my head around and saw who the operator was addressing. It was the same wearisome barbarian who had harassed the locals during the opening speeches. "Make way, hoodman", he told me as he made his way past me to the high striker. "I'll show you all who's the strongest in this little town", he boomed aloud and drew the earthbreaker from his back. His flaunting was drawing curious looks and people started to gather around. The barbarian flexed his back and biceps, clearly enjoying the attention before taking position before the apparatus. Rising the earthbreaker above his head two-handed, the brute roared and slammed his weapon down in a wide arc, striking the iron goblin right in the middle. Nothing happened. I snorted. "WHAT?" The barbarian bellowed and spun towards the operator. "Ah m-mighty warrior, you must have hit the lever at the wrong place", the operator explained with a stutter, fear visible on his face. He offered the barbarian to try again, to sooth his anger. "This game is no match for Frank", the brute grumbled as the prepared to strike the lever anew. More people were stopping to watch the brute take a swing - I noted the dwarf, the red girl and the half-orc among others. The dwarf was smiling and stroking its beard, while the red girl was staring absentmindedly. The half-orc was unreadable. The barbarian drew deep breath and slammed the lever twice as hard as before. This time, the puck in the apparatus shot upwards seven feet and the bell rang loudly. The barbarian roared in triumph and the crowd cheered. The operator slapped him on the shoulder and handed him a prize - I didn't see what it was exactly. I think the man was relieved to get the barbarian off his booth. A quarter of an hour or so later I wandered to a banquet table full of various edibles and foodstuffs. The innkeep, young woman calling herself Ameiko was attracting carnival goers to participate in an eating competition. The dish of the competition, it seemed, was a large platter of spicy, hot fish called sushi. "Who dares to taste Ameiko's sushi, the spicy splendour that burns the weakest and feeds the strongest? Who has the mouth to eat the most", she called. The dwarf took the bait first. "Har, I love good food and haven't found one yet that could best me. I'm in!" He stomped to the table, grinning widely and rubbing his palms together in eager anticipation. The barbarian, true to himself, shoved people out off his way and marched to the table as well. "I'm twice as big as you, little man, but I'll eat four times as much", he declared haughtily. He dwarf just laughed coarsely at the brute. "I want to participate as well", came a soft but stern voice out of nowhere. The red girl stepped forward from the crowd, drawing back her hood and exposing her long, scarlet hair. Her entry caused quite a lot of murmur and whistles but she didn't seem to notice. I forced back a smile. Two more contestants entered the game, local men with the benefit of most likely having tasted Ameiko's fish before. As the contestants took their places around her table, she instructed them. "Each has a plate of my sushi before him or her", she said, addressing the last word to the red girl with a sympathetic smile, "and one-by-one, each will eat one bite.. and keep it down. Four rounds, the one who lasts all rounds will be declared winner. "Martin", he pointed at the other local, "go ahead. The purple one, if you may". The man forked the first piece, considered, and pushed it to his mouth. A heartbeat later he doubled down and coughed out the piece, his face and eyes blood-shot. People laughed. "Master Harsk", Ameiko declared next, amused. The dwarf smiled eagerly and took a good mouthful of the sushi. He chewed a few times. I almost thought he could handle the fish before an unhealthy ruby crawled up his face and he spat the sushi out and emptied a large cup of water. The barbarian's laughter boomed. "I told you, little man.” Without waiting for Ameiko, the brute threw aside the fork and grabbed his piece of fish with bare hands, attracting wild cheers from the crowd. He already had fans in town, it appeared. Without further ado, he filled his mouth with the fish, chewed and downed it with an audible belch. More wild cheering ensued. The red girl took her time, cutting a piece with fork and knife, and smelling the aromas carefully before taking a bite. She closed her eyes and chewed slowly. Absolute silence fell in anticipation. Finally, she swallowed and gave a smile to Ameiko. "This is quite tasty, mam". The crowd erupted in shouts of adoration. The barbarian snorted and the dwarf looked astonished. Ameiko bowed to the girl. "The town's best, my young lady", she explained proudly. After the red girl, it was the other local man's turn. He managed to swallow his first bite. "Second round, ladies and gentlemen", Ameiko shouted out, "the green one. Tomas, if you may", she asked the remaining local. Looking a bit distressed, Tomas forked the green fish piece on his plate and had a bite. He lasted for two heartbeats. The people roared in laughter at the puking man. Then it was again the brute's turn. Confidently, he grabbed the green fish and stuffed his mouth. I noted a hint of red in his face, and he took longer to chew down the second fish, but he managed it. The dwarf, a good competitor, slapped the brute's back and congratulated him. I thought it made the barbarian almost empty his stomach right now and there. Finally, it was the red girl's turn. Again, she calmly forked her piece, savored the aromas and had a taste. With the girl showing no sign of disgust, the crowd applauded and cheered. "Third round, sir, lady", Ameiko said, nodding at the two remaining contestants. "The blue fish. Sir, if you may". The brute growled, building up anger as he lifted the blue fish piece between his fingers. How the seven hells can one be angry at a fish, I wondered. It was apparent from his body language that he wasn't as confident as before as he pushed back his head and dropped the piece into his mouth. Immediately, he spat it out to the ground and slammed his fist to the table, cursing various profanities. Oohhs and aaahs from the crowd. The red girl remained. How could a young girl like her handle the fish that had outmatched a brawny warrior? Without a word, she selected the third piece and took a bite. People around me again drew breath in anticipation. To be honest, I too was eager to find out what was to happen. Now I've always considered myself to be quite perceptive and able to tell if people lie, so I'm quite sure what happened next. I thought I saw a glimpse of fire shimmer in her eyes as she chewed. Something felt out of place. Then she stopped, drew a cloth from beside her and spat the fish into the cloth. "Sorry Ameiko", she told the innkeep, "it's too spicy for me." She lied. The crowd exploded, and Ameiko was forced to settle them down. "People, people, please. These two have shown such fortitude that they shall be both named winners." With open arms, she gestured towards the brute and the red girl. "Say my regards to the town blacksmith, you'll get a one-tenth discount the next time you visit him." The brute beat his chest twice in agreement, while the red girl simply drew her hood over her head, shrouding herself again. And so it was over. I ventured over to Ameiko's booth. The dwarf had remained, accompanied by no more than four pints of beer. The dwarf regarded me with a warm smile and nodded. I nodded back. The dwarf was heavily armed like me, but radiated likeability, serenity and good will. A godly man, I pondered as I sat down next to him. "Anything to drink?" I asked Ameiko. "Of course, master. The house beer, a local brew, is free for the duration of the festivities. Have a try", she urged me, gesturing towards a collection of kegs before me, some full, others half-empty. I shook my head. "I'd rather have a cup of water." The dwarf gave a short, rough laugh. "What's wrong with you, turning down perfectly good free beer", he asked me before emptying his pint. I stared him blankly. "I haven't come here to celebrate", I answered simply as Ameiko filled a cup from a jug of water and offered it to me. I took a sip. The dwarf smiled and stroke his beard, weighing me. "Your loss, friend." ** The dwarf, Harsk, introduced himself, and I introduced myself. He tried to open a conversation but I kept to myself, observing rather my surroundings, looking for my target again after a moment of distractions. I spotted the barbarian, the half-orc and the red girl several times. "Isn't she something", Harsk asked me quietly as she walked past us. This time I had to smile and nod. Evening fell. I didn't know what kept me at the plaza for the afternoon, maybe it was Harsk with his outrageous stories he kept telling to Ameiko and no-one in particular between pints, maybe it was the mysterious red girl, maybe it was the half-orc I felt oddly strongly sympathetic towards. Maybe it was the ludicrous brute, this Frank. I didn't know. As the bell struck sixth hour of the day after noon, people gathered around the plaza's wooden platform for an evening prayer. High-priest Zantus rose to the platform and began the sermons. Harsk excused himself, rose from his seat (not before emptying yet another pint) and fell in with the crowd, interested in the local cult. By that time I had came to know he was a cleric of the goddess Iomedae, which explained a lot. I thanked Ameiko and left as well, moving well behind of the mass. I spotted Frank, also away from the crowd, petting and scratching a dog, and clearly not giving a damn of what was taking place. Not a godly man, I figured. Zantus's sermon was simple yet powerful, his oratory moving if not inspiring. He was about the finish as a woman's scream stopped him mid-sentence. It came from the middle of the crowd, so I had no chance of seeing the woman nor the reason for the scream. The mass of people stirred like a herd of sheep, catching the scent of the wolf. Then it exploded in a riot of screams and movement. Zantus was left standing, his mouth a gape. I was quick to spring into action but Frank was quicker. Granted, he was closer to the source of the commotion. The barbarian pulled the earthbreaker from his back and visibly let his rage take over. I felt it almost literally washing over me, that boiling desire to kill and maim. The panic continued with people running to every direction. Some bumped into me. Then I saw what Frank saw. A goblin feasting on the same dog he just moments ago had been petting and scratching. I would've found it hilarious if it wasn't so gruesome. And if Frank wouldn't been so intent on making the goblin pay for its crime. He thundered at the goblin who was oblivious to the panic it had created, peacefully enjoying its canine cuisine. Past repeated itself as Frank slammed the earthbreaker down in a wide arc and just narrowly missed the goblin. The brute roared in anger and lifted his weapon for another try. Having his dinner disturbed by a raging hulk, the goblin jumped in fear, screeched at the barbarian and stabbed wildly with its knife. In panic, the little beast missed. I briskly walked closer to the melee, and with a shrug dropped my backpack and pulled my bow from my back. For a second I considered whether or not to intervene. I didn't know this arrogant bastard, but these goblins were a menace to society. My head was racing. Finally, I drew an arrow from the quiver and took aim. The goblin was at the feet of the barbarian, making it a difficult target. I took the shot. My hesitation cost me as the arrow flew past both combatants and burrowed into a wagon behind them. Harsk had decided as well to remain at the plaza. He almost came to regret that as another goblin appeared on a nearby rooftop and shot an arrow at him. The arrow struck his armor but glanced, not harming the cheerful cleric. The half-orc remained still, clearly pondering whether to act or not. At that moment, I couldn't blame him. He was not under any threat, and the folk of Sandpoint had been anything but welcoming to him. He took a few steps towards the goblin and the brute, seemingly unsure what to do. At the corner of my eye, I spotted the red girl, who simply moved away, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Harsk cursed at the goblin on the rooftop and surprisingly dexterously armed his crossbow and fired at the creature. As I was nocking another arrow, Harsk scored a hit in the leg of the goblin. I was starting to hear voices of terror and battle from around the town. Out of nowhere a third goblin ran to the plaza, jumping over a wagon and attacking the half-orc. The small blade cut only air as the half-orc cunningly evaded the blow. Frank pulled his earthbreaker up for another go and time stopped for the poor dog-eating goblin. The brute's aim was true and hitting with incredible strength, he literally smashed the goblin in half, splattering blood all over. Choosing the foe with a clear line of sight, I took a quick shot at the goblin on the rooftop. I missed again! I cursed the past weeks in the galley where I had had no chance of training with my bow. The little creature screeched and jumped down, ran full speed onto Ameiko's table and launched itself at the half-orc. It managed to surprise the half-orc, who growled and stepped back, a bleeding wound on his side.

Red girl decided then to join the fight and reveal her true nature. Summoning the elemental powers of fire she took a step forward and hurled a ray of fire at a goblin next to the half-orc. Thirty feet away, I could feel the heat as the goblin burned violently to ash. A fire sorceress, I cursed and shielded my face. The half-orc merely grinned at her help, stepped around and with a controlled motion of his staff struck down the second goblin. Silence fell to the plaza, but smoke was arising from the south-east. Sounds of battle were still audible. This was not over. I went to retrieve my arrow from the wagon. Beside me, Frank was breathing heavily, mastering his rage. The high priest, Zantus, deciding probably now being a good time to return from hiding, stepped out from the safety of the cathedral and approached us. "Mighty friends, thank you for your aid", he uttered sheepishly. "I have the powers of healing, does anyone of you require my services?" The barbarian, still catching his breath, turned to the high priest and pointed at the corpse of the dog. "Can you bring the dog back to life", he snarled, half asking, half ordering. The priest lifted his hands in front of him, as in a shielding motion. "Pardon me friend, but that is beyond my abilities." The response infuriated the barbarian, who pulled the earthbreaker up and smashed a nearby wagon in half. This time he hit at the first try, I thought, as the priest backed down, a little horrified. Harsk approached the half-orc, offering to have a look at his cut. The half-orc considered the priest, then Harsk, before finally muttering something inaudible and letting Harsk apply a healing potion. The wound dissolved before our eyes and the half-orc sighed. "Is it typical that goblins roam the city unchecked?" I asked the priest, not a little sarcasm in my voice as I searched the dying goblins for valuables. To my dismay, they had nothing on them but armor and knives. "No, they typically don't get this organized", Zantus responded, watching around, trying to take in the sudden chaos emerging around him. Content with the situation at the plaza, he begged our pardon before walking away, looking for others to help. Me, Frank, Harsk, the half-orc and red girl were all that remained. "Everybody all right?" Harsk asked. I regarded the fire sorceress and was about to open my mouth as goblin song hailed from the south. A group of goblins appeared from behind tents and booths, driven forward by a goblin warchanter! Drawn by the scent of battle, they ran across the plaza to face us in battle. In a fluid motion, I nocked an arrow. The fire sorceress reacted first, casting a spell that burned the hand of a goblin and made it drop its sword. With no regard to personal safety, Frank howled in rage and charged two of the goblins at the same time. Showing no mercy, he violently reduced the first to a bloody smear in the street stones. I was starting to like the man, even if he was all strength and no finesse. Harsk bellowed prayers to his goddess and stomped to confront an attacking goblin. He swung his longsword but missed as the goblin ducked just in time. I let loose an arrow at one running goblin, but I missed yet again. Second lost arrow, I cursed as it flew outside my field of vision. The half-orc, ever silent, went into melee with an advancing goblin, not connecting with his first strike. The warchanter kept approaching slowly, still singing its strange song and seemingly not interested in the fate of its minions. Frank, now with less momentum, launched a sideways blow, aiming to the head of the second, unarmed goblin, but in his eagerness, missed wildly. The goblin on the other hand showed surprising restraint as it reached out to the sword on the ground and slashed at the barbarian, scoring a tiny wound on his side. Frank screamed more in anger than in pain. Wroth flew from his mouth. To avenge his ad hoc comrade, the fire sorceress hurled a ray of fire at the burned goblin. It went wide. The barbarian struck back, shoving with the earthbreaker, but he too was unable to bring down the small beast. I glanced at the singing warchanter, nocked an arrow and shot it. My aim was finally true as I my arrow burrowed into the chanter's leg. I allowed myself a smile. It fell to its knees but it kept singing its mindless song. Meanwhile, the half-orc finished his goblin and joined the fight with the dwarf. The warchanter, to my astonishment, summoned a healing spell. Across the plaza I witnessed as the arrow was pushed out of the creature's leg by magic and the wound closed on itself. My attention was then stolen by the burned goblin, which screamed a shrill shout and moved off the barbarian to attack the fire sorceress. The goblin failed to hurt her, but in return, she cast a spell that made the goblin lose its weapon again. In rapid motion, she moved away from the suffering, whimpering goblin. Frank realized his chance to finish the leader of the pack had come. He jumped onto the stand where the chanter was recovering from my successful hit and attacked it. Miraculously, the goblin leader managed to parry the brute's earthbreaker with its sword. The brawl on the stand continued while I let loose an arrow at the unarmed goblin threatening the fire sorceress. I missed, and now I was really cursing my weeks at the sea. The goblin fighting Harsk and the half-orc succeeded to superficially wound the stocky dwarf. The unarmed goblin, seemingly losing his mind, ran at the half-orc’s backpack on the ground, and madly began looting it for valuables. I decided to exact payment for its insolence and hit it on the shoulder with an arrow. Still, it managed to grab a hold of something from the pack and charged the fire girl bare handed, an arrow sticking out of its shoulder. On the stand, the barbarian appeared to get weary. I realized even his rage had limits and his fighting style was taxing him greatly. He dueled with the goblin, and landed a lucky hit, obliterating the warchanter. The wounded, greedy goblin was all over the fire sorceress. Dismayed that the petty creature still had the nerve to live, I ran across the plaza, looking for a clear kill shot. Wasting as little time as possible and trusting to my instincts, I fired another arrow. It struck the goblin, finally killing it. Now only one goblin remained. Slashing like a maniac, it wounded the half-orc, before it met its demise at the hands of Frank the barbarian, who had jumped down the wooden stand and decided that the Harvest festivities were finally over for the little green beasts. Tomi Heikkinen 1 person marked this as a favorite. 3. A QUEER ENSEMBLE OF INDIVIDUALS

23rd of Rova - Sunday, the day after the attack

The Rusty Dragon, Sandpoint It soon became apparent that the attack was simply a ruse to hide a more nefarious plot. Somebody had stolen or reincarnated the former high priest Ezakiel's corpse and escaped while the battle raged across town. We had reached that conclusion the next morning, when town sheriff Belor and high priest Zantus had asked us to investigate Ezakiel's crypt, which had been broken and entered in force. I didn't expect to find his crypt guarded by skeletons. We promptly eliminated the resistance, found the corpse missing and followed, fruitlessly, some tracks from the grave yard to the edge of the city. Our inability to track a target successfully was particularly disappointing to me. My hunting skills required honing. We had also come across a captive goblin, who revealed that the attack had been well-prepared and planned by a mysterious half-elf or elf. An intervention by a third party was logical, given that the town had not faced such an coordinated goblin attack in ages. We. It still sounded weird. I didn't know why we kept together. We already extracted a handsome sum from a wealthy noble called Aldern Foxglove whose life we had saved during the battle, and I didn't believe the town was in any position to compensate for our continued service. Interestingly, the blacksmiths were quite happy to offer us discounts on their wares, and the town folk showed us their overwhelming gratitude as we walked the streets. I wasn't happy with that - I wanted to maintain a low-profile but my unintended heroics had seen an end to that. I even had some red-headed town girl stalking me, wanting me to get "rid of some horrible rats in her cellar", a sweetling sure, but an annoyance. The town officials however were reluctant to open their coffers. Sheriff Belor in particular aggravated me, digging his heels in the ground and being unwilling to take action. He came off more an administrator of labourers than a commander of soldiers. Nonetheless we kept going together. I had little reason to trust any of them. Above all the prospect of being paid well for finding out what is going on in this little frontier town maintained my interest in sticking with the rest of the ad hoc party. I realized leaving them the moment it was necessary would have best served my interests but my curiosity was piqued. I wondered what fate brought us together in Sandpoint, and I was strangely keen to find out what it was. And I have to admit we were a queer ensemble of individuals. Harsk seemed to be driven by righteousness, some sense of honour that demanded justice for Sandpoint. I guessed the fate of the former high priest stunk of dark heresy to the dwarven cleric of Iomedae. Also, his ability to consume beer was commendable. Part of me enjoyed his camaraderie. But I wondered what would happen if there came a time when we had to make the tough life-and-death decisions. It would get ugly. I felt the half-orc, Vidarok, and Harsk both were righteous souls, and had no issue with helping this little town. When I didn't, they gave a damn. Vidarok had overcome his initial reservations and proved me we are not slaves to our blood heritage. I called him the gentle giant, thanks to his genuine love and compassion to the natural world and its various inhabitants. I would have found it admirable, if it wasn't so naive and idealistic. He also appeared to be quite quick of thought. My former master Horryn would've considered Vidarok to possess leadership potential. Of course, he had despised half and pure-breed orcs, so he would have thrown the young druid to the dungeons, or pitted him against his gladiators. With the gentle giant, we had the angry brute, Frank the barbarian. He had revealed very little of his past. He lived in the present and only in the present. Life was simple for him. I considered him as my exact opposite: vocal, volatile, rash and blunt - all strength and no finesse, only forward momentum and no grace and stealth. But by gods he was courageous without any shred of self-preservation when the battle lust took over. The strikes of his earthbreaker were like the toll of the city bells in Canorate. Not once had I seen him back down from a melee. In the grave yards, me and Harsk had to order him to take a step backwards so we could fight more effectively. He was unpredictable, unstable even. Still, his kill count was twice that of mine, so his effectiveness was undisputed. I wondered how long he'd stay alive. Last, we had the carmine maiden, the fire sorceress Ilori. We knew very little of her and her past, and she was reluctant to tell. I didn't blame her, as there we were very alike. She was a quiet, reserved beauty but well-spoken when needed. With people, she seemed careful, as if she was unconsciously afraid of hurting them. Hurting with her fire. What I had seen of her, I believed she is capable of so much more. She was holding back. Powered by her blazing magicks to the fullest, she might've very well been the most dangerous person among us. And that is why I trusted her the least. Tomi Heikkinen 1 person marked this as a favorite. 4. THE MONSTER UNDER MY BED

23rd of Rova - Sunday, the day after the attack

Outside the Cathedral, Sandpoint When you take away a child's innocence and feeling of security, you become a monster. To a child it really doesn't matter if the monster is a goblin, giant, dragon.. or a man. Appearances are secondary when you bring down a child's world. I was reminded of this when the Garret woman and her boy ran to us, pleading and begging us to come with her and help. Their home had been attacked by someone or something. The tear-eyed boy mumbled about a monster with gleaming eyes under his bed who had killed his dog during the night. The woman sobbed, torn by having doubted his son in the first place and having left his husband behind to investigate what had really happened. I could see she believed he was already dead. I remembered my monster, a man of riches, greed and such paranoia that he made the lives of others around him hell. He had burned down my village, slain my family and stolen me and my twin brother and ultimately separated us. I guess an unconscious feeling of empathy made me join the others in helping the woman and her boy. Monsters exist but they can be slain. That I knew too as I had slain mine personally. From Sandpoint and our base, if one can call the Rusty Dragon a base, we traveled eastwards to the town border. There we found an inconsequential cottage - their home. As we entered, the woman and the boy remained back, too frightened to approach even with us at guard. I was not surprised when we found the remains of the husband lying on the boy's room floor, half his body within a wooden closet, hidden. Frank grinned, Harsk cursed, Vidarok frowned and Ilori I guess got a bit paler. As the others remained to examine the surroundings, I snatched a fresh apple from their main room table and went outside to see if there was something out of place, maybe some hidden threat. From the door, I looked back at the woman and the boy who were a good hundred feet away. He was gripping tightly the hem of her skirt, and she was holding her arms around him, looking nervous and heartbroken. I waved at them. They didn't respond to my gesture. I took a bite of the apple. I heard Harsk and Frank arguing about the corpse in the boy's room. I looked over my shoulder and saw Frank appear with the lower half of the man's body on his arms. There was blood all over Frank, and a lot of it was dripping on the floor, leaving a trail. The barbarian looked quite happy with himself. He was half-way in the main room when we heard a loud scream from the boy's room, followed by Harsk bellowing scriptures in holy defiance. Time slowed. Fire danced around Ilori and the temperature in the house rose noticeably as she summoned her magic. Frank dropped the corpse on the floor, splashing blood and thundered back to the boy's room, Vidarok right at his heels. A commotion ensued. I kept eating my apple. It was a really good apple. I was expecting Frank to tear down half the building with his hammer but realized quickly that my companions were trying to capture the assailant alive. I sighed and threw away the apple core and paced to the boy's room door. A goblin was struggling with Frank and Vidarok, and the druid was bleeding quite a lot from his leg. I had an inspiration. I drew back my hood - realizing then it was the first time any of them had seen my head uncovered - and stared at the goblin with a killing intent. The little bastard froze for a second, intimidated, and Frank pummeled it unconscious with his bare hands. Vidarok looked relieved. ** "Tie him up", Harsk told Frank, who took a skein of rope and bound it around the goblin so that it couldn't move its hands or feet. "Hang him face down and we'll interrogate him", I suggested and pointed at a wooden beam supporting the ceiling. Frank complied, and as others gathered around, I took a cup of water and splashed its contents at the face of the goblin and followed with a quick punch. That woke it up. Wasting no time, I grabbed it by its throat and demanded it to tell us who it was and why it had attacked. The insolent creature just coughed and laughed. I grabbed and twisted it a bit harder, but to no avail. Monsters exist. Something inside me stirred. I pulled the goblin closer to my face and bared my teeth. "Where do you come from and who is your leader?" I asked the beast, drilling my gaze into its gleaming eyes. It had the desired effect. "G-Gugmut", the goblin stuttered as it dangled by the rope head downwards, "Gugmut the great is our boss!" "Is he a goblin?" Ilori intervened with a sharp question, maybe remembering the other goblin talking about the elf or half-elf who had engineered the assault against Sandpoint. The little green beast coarsely laughed at this. "Gugmut is a half-breed goblin", it explained, drool dropping on the floor. "How did you get here?" I asked it. "I came from the east, long-shanks.." I noted the goblin was clearly gathering some mental fortitude so I twisted its throat and shook it violently to remind it of its position. Frank stepped forward, and drew the horse chopper so that our captive could see the goblin blade. "Do you know this? It belonged to one of your filthy dog-killing vermin breed!" Frank roared in anger. The goblin screeched. "That's Gresgurt's blade!" Frank grinned contently in response. "Not anymore.." I interjected: "Where from the east exactly?" "From Mosswood, that's where Gugmut keeps his camp", the goblin cried. Harsk crossed his arms and turned his head a bit to the side. "Can you take us to him, if we let you go free afterwards?" The dwarf asked diplomatically. But the goblin knew its fate. "You'll kill me anyway, bastards.." it whimpered. Monsters exist but they can be slain. I had one more question. "You were part of the attack against Sandpoint", I stated rather than asked, "but did you see the leader, a half-elf or elf who was responsible for the attack?" The goblin just laughed at me weakly. "Longshanks, Gugmut is my boss.." I let go of the goblin and in a fluid motion, drew my other kukri blade and slashed the beast's throat open. Black blood sputtered to the floor and mixed with spit and human blood. The woman has quite a mess to clean up, I thought as I replaced the kukri into its scabbard. But it wasn't over. Frank let out an inhuman bellow and grabbed me by my shoulder, pushing me so our faces were an inch away from each other. We stared at each other intently, the situation quickly escalating to a hair's breadth from a brawl. To match his gaze I had to look up and could feel his breath on my face as he tried to control his rage. "Why.. did.. you.. do that, pointy-ears?" I realized that time I might have gone too far, acting on my own initiative like always. The brute was one and a half times wider - granted, I was not a man of small stature, rather I was quite lean but muscular and standing at 6 feet 4 inches I towered above normal human men, but Frank was really huge, easily two inches taller than me and heavier by a good 80 pounds of solid muscle. And an half-orc like Vidarok, I realized then while looking at him from an inch away. Curious. That explained a lot, I thought as our staring competition continued for something that felt like an eternity. His arms were shaking like the ground in an earthquake, his biceps and neck muscles bulged and I think he almost ruptured a vein on his forehead. I tried to remain calm and composed. It was Harsk who broke the showdown. He said nothing but approached us, pulling us apart from our arms. "I wanted that goblin alive as my pet, you bastard", Frank steamed. I simply shrugged. "He had served his purpose, and had no valuable information to offer." The others I guess seemed to agree. An intelligent if very stupid goblin would have made a horrible pet anyway. Frank grunted and dismissed me with an obscene gesture. ** The barbarian took the corpse of the goblin down and lifted it to his back. Harsk reassembled the husband's corpse as well as he could, closed the dead eyes and covered the body with a linen. Then we walked out to the family. We had decided that Ilori was the one to tell the news to the woman. It was a hard thing for the young fire sorceress to do, but she managed with her words and manners to soothe the mother's worst pains and mental anguish. All she asked of us was to take his son into the care of the sheriff, Belor. We complied, so she remained behind to take care of the house and the husband's body while we returned to the city with the boy. The return reminded me of my past. A monster had come, shattered my world and driven me from my home. Here he was like I was then, traveling to the city with strangers, afraid and unsure what fate had in store for him. I wanted to look him in the eyes and tell him monsters exist but they can be slain. Instead I did nothing, and said nothing. Tomi Heikkinen 1 person marked this as a favorite. 5. SOMETHING ABOUT FATHERS AND DAUGHTERS. AND BOARS.

24th of Rova - Moonday, morning, two days since the attack

forest of Tickwood, two miles outside Sandpoint "Harsk!" Pe-channas! I cursed inwardly in Elvish. The boar lifted its snout from the ground, grunted and looked straight at the stumbling dwarf. So much for stealth, I grumbled, and rose from my concealed position thirty feet away. Downwind, I had a good vantage at the beast and took a quick shot. When my arrow burrowed into the beast's skin, I was already notching another for the killing shot. The animal cried in pain and blood was pumping out in gouts - I must have hit an artery. But these bastards were quick and hard to kill. It catapulted itself up and towards Harsk from the bush, but not before I had placed my second arrow into its side. It barely noticed me. I had to admire the half-man's courage as the boar barreled its way towards him. He dropped his crossbow, drew his trusty longsword and braced himself in anticipation of violence. I was pulling out the third arrow from the quiver when the two hairy beasts collided. Harsk roared in effort as he struggled and blocked the vicious boar's tusks with his sword. Out of nowhere, Frank leaped into the melee. The earthbreaker wooshed as it arced over the brute's head and slammed at the back of the boar. Its bones shattered and it cried again in agony, throwing its head around like it was denying death itself. By Earthfall it was tough, I wondered as I drew quick breath and aimed. At the far side of my vision I saw Aldern Foxglove, our sponsor who had developed quite an infatuation to our lady Ilori, begging her to step back from the fight. Heedless of the jabbering nobleman, she summoned her powers and struck the dying animal with a ray of frost, but was unable to finish it. That it seemed was left to me. Confidently, I let an arrow fly for the third time, and this time it had the decency to fall over and die. ** We concluded Aldern's hunting trip with three successful catches, two male boars and one female, all adults. Much to the relief of Ilori, the nobleman left with Harsk for the town before we tracked and killed the third. I was surprised she didn't show any interest in the man. Sure, he was a doofus, but not totally unattractive and better yet, quite handsomely rich. Many ladies would've thrown themselves at his feet to marry into such wealth and position. But not our mysterious, reserved carmine lady, it seemed. I, Vidarok and Frank tied our prey to our horses and we headed back to Sandpoint. As we arrived, Frank had a brilliant notion of trying to hustle the horses from the old horsemaster, Hosk. I rubbed my eyes in irritation and offered the horsemaster to walk his mounts into the stables with him. There, something immediately caught my eye. The back wall of the stable was full of goblin ears, some brand new, some half-decayed. I pointed at them questioningly. "Oh, you noticed my collection", the horsemaster said, proudly. "Eye for an eye, or ear for an ear in this case", he grinned and went on: "Those bastards cut my ear, so I'll make damn sure they lose theirs in return. I pay 5 gold pieces for each pair of goblin ears you bring me." Frank had overheard the mention of gold and yelled from the stable doors: "I have a dead goblin with me, do you want that?" Hosk turned around. "I just want the ears, boy", he stated flatly. Frank pondered this. "But that's not right, having a goblin without ears." Ilori tried to offer a solution. "So what? What if you just cut off the ears.." ".. and knit, I don't know, pig's ears to it?" Vidarok added. Frank snorted. "Well that's just stupid." As if he had any grounds to call anyone stupid, I thought but didn't say anything. Instead, I thanked the horsemaster for his services and promised to keep his offer in mind. ** It was just past noon when we arrived to the Rusty Dragon. Ameiko was preparing the boars in the kitchen as per the receipts of Harsk and Aldern, and the men were exchanging stories and drinking at the tavern counter. Ilori took a seat at the opposite side of the tavern, as far away from Aldern as possible, her back towards the nobleman. As I walked past her, I stopped and crouched over to her ear. "You know", I whispered, "there is so much you could benefit from the lust and love of Master Foxglove, if you'd just take advantage of it." I didn't wait to hear her reply but continued on to the counter. The sweetling, Bethana, poured me a water and I thanked by flashing a smile at her. Blushing incontrollably, she turned around. Poor thing, I thought. Harsk, a jar of beer in his hand and already well in his cups, informed us that the dinner would not be served for some few hours, so I decided to make use of my time and headed out to the town with the half-orcs. Frank obviously had some excess energy to vent, so he went to the river, most likely to have a swim, engage in some arm wrestling or simply beat some poor soul into pulp. Vidarok, the gentle giant, was looking for the local herbalist and potion maker, since he had found the time to gather some flowers and herbs during our hunt. At that time that still perplexed me. Very, very much later, when those same potions saved my life, I stopped being perplexed and was just happy. I made my way to the city garrison in search of Sheriff Belor. For the time being, I had dismissed the plan to seek out the trader's dandy boy - my original reason of arriving to Sandpoint - but my true quest continued. The garrison was a stone tower that had seen better days. I estimated that at best it could maybe garrison 50 or so men. Its walls had crumbled in places and it was in dire need of some maintenance. I knew the cathedral had been the priority when city gold was distributed and wondered how many lives the money spent on the cathedral would save in future attacks compared to if the money had been spent on the protection of the town. Gods were real, I knew that, but they came to the help of mortals oh so seldom. A guard stood at the main entrance. I walked to him and asked for the sheriff. The guard, no more than a boy really, shrugged and pointed at the city hall across the street. Apparently Belor was in a meeting with city mayor, Deverin. This suited me better than well, I considered and paced over Main street to the city hall. There, I was stopped by a clerk. Patiently, I expressed my desire to meet with the sheriff and the mayor, but my request was denied. I left a message to them both and walked to the docks instead. I imagined those parts of the town might hide some grains of information regarding my brother, if any. I found the Fatman's Feedbag with little effort and entered the shady tavern. Air of hostility greeted me immediately. Heads turned. The place had a few customers, sitting around, sipping beer and mostly minding their own business. Until I came in, that is. I ignored them all and went straight to the morose barkeep who had behaved coldly last time we were here. I hoped arriving alone would ease his mind.

Severe misjudgement on my behalf. I had just offered the stiff barkeep some silver for a word or rumour of a recently come and gone, martially trained half-elf like me when I was approached by a very large, fat, armed man with a long, braided hair. Later I came to realize he was the owner of the tavern, but I didn't reach this conclusion at the time. Thinking of him to be a guard or another patron, I simply offered him the silver as well, for any information, but he sternly and without any hint of kindness told me to bugger off. I wasn't offended - I knew these places too well to cause trouble - and left. I knew I'd come back. And when I'd come, I wouldn't leave without answers. ** I arrived back at the Rusty Dragon, took a seat at the counter and and ordered a glass of red wine from Bethana. Harsk was asleep and snoring, his head on the tavern counter. It seemed he had finally consumed enough beer to pass out. I was just about to take the first sip of the day when an old man stormed into the tavern. "You fools, low-lives, inbred scum!" The old timer yelled, both in Common and in a language I could not understand, pointing his walking cane at Ilori and Vidarok who were talking and just happened to be nearest to the tavern door. I spared a glance at the man, quickly sized him up, found him a mere nuisance and began swirling the wine in the glass. I'd come to realize that really made the wine taste better. "Listen to me, scumbags!" The old man kept on yelling and made his way to Ilori and Vidarok. I noticed no-one, even the locals or Aldern, paying any attention to the man, even though all were visibly anxious of his abrupt arrival. "Are you happy now, outsiders? You brought blood and sorrow with you! I know it! You're pretenders, worming your way into the good hearts of people of Sandpoint", he screamed. Ilori and Vidarok had stopped talking and were trying to disregard the fool. But he wasn't going to let go. "Red b*+!#! Yeah you", he yelled at Ilori and spat on her feet. She frowned, and looked over her shoulder. "Get the hell out from our little town." Hearing that, I raised my eyebrow. Aldern, ever so chivalrous and quick to the rescue of his damsel, stayed put and didn't say a word even though I was certain he had heard the insult at Ilori. What a paladin of true love, I sighed, increasingly irritated at both men. Suddenly, the liver-spotted man raised his cane and smacked Vidarok right at the back of his head. He could've hit stone. Vidarok didn't even seem to register the hit. The man kept rambling. "You're called the saviours of this city, I hear. Ha! What a bunch of softskins, you don't even stand up to defend yourselves. I bet you pissed your pants when the goblins came and were simply too afraid to run." To emphasise his insult, he smacked Vidarok again with his cane. The half-orc simply let out a long sigh. F$%# this. I couldn't help myself. I turned over to Frank, who was completely oblivious to the little man and was playing around with his horse chopper. "Hey, Frank", I yelled. "This man says you're a soft skin who's afraid to fight." As if snapped out of a trance, Frank lifted his head and considered me and what I had said. "What?" He asked, unbelieving. I rolled my eyes. Hadn't he been paying any attention? Emboldened by my regard to his jabbering, the old man paced over to me. I was hunched over the tavern counter, still swirling my glass of wine, as he reached over and tried to grab my hood. He didn't even have time to blink as I rolled around and grabbed his hand, holding it tight. He groaned in pain. I frowned and stared him in straight in the eye. End of the line. Ameiko burst into the main hall from the kitchen, yelling profanities at the man in the same language the man had used when he had entered. Glancing at Ameiko and then back at the man, I realized the similarity in their appearances. Oh great. The man, obviously family to Ameiko, greeted her with gibberish and more yelling. Ameiko responded in kind, but switched to Common and begged me to let him go. F*!% that, I thought, this old timer needed a lesson in common courtesy. I held firmly and pushed aside my cloak, revealing the pommels of my kukri blades, in scabbards tied to my belt. Ameiko realized my intention and ran to us, still pleading me to let the man go. "Stop, he's my father, let him go, please!" I looked at Ameiko, then at the man, and finally again at Ameiko. I eased my grip slightly yet decided to leave a nasty bruise to his arm, but the man dexterously slipped free before I could exact some vengeance for his general unpleasantness. He directed his anger towards Ameiko. "Are you harbouring these low-lives, daughter?" Oh, the father. He pointed with his finger, accusingly. Ameiko put her hands on her hips and looked furious. "I'm showing these brave souls the respect they deserve after putting their lives at stake for people they hardly know, father", she explained, underlining the last word. She went on. "Something you should consider as well, you unthankful old senile!" That was too much for her father. I tried to intercept his blow but my hand grabbed air as he moved surprisingly quickly for a man his age and slapped her in the face with an open palm. This piqued, finally, Frank's interest as well. The huge brute put the horse chopper down on the counter, rose to his full, considerable height and walked over to us, unnaturally patiently. I was weighing my options: jaw, neck, throat, belly, groin. So many places to strike the man. Ameiko looked shocked, holding her cheek, unable to say anything. But her father was not finished. "You little c+#*, you're as dead to me as your mother!" He turned around on his heels, and began to pace at the door. I was unwilling to let this pass, but a look at Ameiko made me hesitate. A single tear rolled down her cheek, but she didn't look vengeful, only terribly sad. I pulled my cloak over the kukris, deciding to let her father go. Frank on the other hand was less perceptive and now much, much more angry. He pushed me aside, took a few steps and hammered his fist at the back of the man. I wondered how his geriatric spine didn't crack as he collapsed to the ground, but instead quickly recovered and simply ran out in terror. Frank, forever true to himself, looked quite happy with his performance and returned to his seat. "I'm sorry you all", Ameiko said and dried tears from her eyes. "Thank you", she said to me. "He's my father.. and we really don't get along too well..", she began to explain. I only shook my head, telling her that she didn't have to explain his actions or stand for him. Little did I know that I'd face off with another angry father very soon. ** Finally the boars were prepared and brought to the main hall. Three boars were quite a bounty and was easily too much for us to share only, so dozens of Sandpointians had been invited to the feast. "Seats of honor for the lady and the nobleman", Harsk exclaimed, obviously talking about Ilori and Aldern and looked at the boar in front of us in eager anticipation. I pulled out my kukri, took a good hold of the other tusk of the roasted boar and cut it loose. Aldern winced. I shrugged. "A trophy for the kill." We took our seats at our table of honor. I took a seat at the corner of the table, with Harsk sitting beside me. Ilori dashed (at least it looked she did) to the seat between us at the other end of the table, forcing Aldern to take the seat at the far end of the table. He didn't look too happy. "Master Aldern, please, have my seat next to lady Ilori", I offered a bit too sweetly and rose. Aldern, totally oblivious to my irony, nodded many times like a bird and looked like he had come in his breeches. I winked at Ilori, quite pleased with my practical joke. She regarded me with a look that could kill. I swear I saw sparks flickering in her big, brown round eyes. Thanks to Aldern the loud-mouth, everybody heard of our valour during the hunt and he made sure all knew we had provided the boars to the feast. Many toasts followed. Harsk, newly awoken and sobered, seemed pleased to have a reason to down many beers. Aldern kept begging Ilori to join him when he would return to Magnemar the next day. I think he held her hand for the entire afternoon. Watching her squirm was so fun. But it was also admirable how well she evaded his pursuits without insulting him or his pride. She was too gentle with him. Sun was about to set and we were just about to finish the dinner, when Sheriff Belor entered the Rusty Dragon. "Friends", he approached us at our table, "I'm sorry to disturb you but your presence would be required at the city hall. There are some matters of town security which me, mayor Deverin and ranger Andosana would like to discuss with you." Ilori more or less jumped up, shaking Aldern's hand off hers and indicated her willingness to leave without a word. I was curious, so I rose as well. "Well of course, we'd be happy. We were already finished", Harsk agreed, and stood up with Vidarok, excusing Aldern. Frank shrugged and rose too, but not before stuffing his mouth with a handful of boar meat. Only Aldern remained seated, his eyes like a puppy's as he regarded Ilori. "Please my love, please consider once more." Ilori shivered. ** We met Mayor Deverin and Ranger Andosana. Or Shalelu, as she preferred to be called. We exchanged acquaintances. I instantly liked her. She had a courageous, out-spoken, out-going and adventurous spirit. And she had a very fine longbow, which I came to know she had crafted herself. The town was in dire need of more manpower. It hadn't recovered from the losses of the goblin attack, and Belor was forced to travel to Magnemar and hire new soldiers. He and Mayor Deverin urged us to help. While Belor and his guard were out of town, our help would consist of simply remaining in the city and demonstrating that its citizens were still protected by our party. Naturally, our help came down to agreeing on a suitable price. I still didn't care much for the city itself, so my price would've been higher, but the others accepted a modest price of five gold coins per party member. We agreed that none of us had any immediate intentions to leave anyhow, so any gold was ultimately acceptable. ** Shalelu joined us at Rusty Dragon later that night. Frank wanted to show her his "trophy" in his room, which at this point was rotting cadaver of a goblin, which she didn’t know at the time but she nevertheless wisely declined the barbarian's offer. We drank and exchanged stories of the goblins. She told us of the different greenskin tribes nearby, about her mission and about her past experiences with the creatures. Surprising myself and eager to share some adventures with Shalelu, I offered to join her the next time she'd move against the goblins, which she promised to keep in mind with a smile. Later that night, Frank finally managed to talk Shalelu into coming with him over to his room. She agreed, and cautiously followed the brute. Harsk bellowed in laughter, and we others had to snigger. It took no more than half a minute for Shalelu to barge back into the main hall. She appeared absolutely disgusted, with Frank in her heels who was looking genuinely a bit surprised. "Did you see Frank's pet goblin?" I asked Shalelu, still laughing, as she emptied a pint of beer with one go. ** Next morning, we were breaking our fast when Harsk came up with an idea. "What if we would press or write copies of leaflets and distribute them across the city with a general request to people to come forward if they knew anything about our mystery half-elf or elf who led the attack to the city?" We nodded. It was a good idea but I had my doubts. We'd probably be drowned in misinformation and empty hearsay in a heartbeat. "I wouldn't pay for the paper and ink from my own pocket", I stated. Harsk nodded. "Of course, we'd get the town to pay for it." More nods. I still wasn't convinced but shrugged. "Sure, go ahead and ask mayor Deverin. I need some more arrows to replace my lost ones", I said and rose to leave. As I left, I overheard Harsk agree with Ilori that they'd go and see the mayor. From the Rusty Dragon I got to the plaza at the corner of Festival and Water street before I heard an all too familiar voice behind me.

"Hey, stranger, still too busy to help out a girl in distress?" came the snarky question. I sighed and turned around. It was the young, if quite attractive girl who had harassed me twice earlier when I had passed this street with the others. "You had the rat problem, right?" I asked. She smirked, pleased of gaining my attention. I had to smile. She was kind of sweet indeed, now that I really thought of it. I pondered my situation. True, I had lost only six arrows and still had well over fifty with me. If this girl had some bruisers waiting to mug me, I was confident I could handle them. And if she tried a charm or a spell.. well that would just be stupid of her, give my elven immunities. Disregarding my natural suspicions a bit, I nodded to her. "All right sweetie, I'll help you out this time." She almost jumped and grabbing my hand, took me with her. She had a long, reddish or brownish hair that swayed as the morning wind breezed. I liked that. She led me to a nearby general store. "This is my family's store. It's run by my father, but he's out of town and can't help me with the rats." Inside, she pointed at a trapdoor leading below ground to a cellar. "That's where they are. Please help me, oh stranger!" She fell into my arms, pleading. I frowned just a bit, my suspicions dying hard. "Are you sure it's rats what you have in there?" I asked sternly, one more time. She couldn't hold eye contact and looked at her feet. "That's what I told you", she explained. She lied, I knew it, but I had come all the way down here and didn't want to back away now. That would've been shameful. Nothing in the city had gotten me off my feet. Until then, that is. I descended a ladder to the cellar. Assorted wares, containers, tools, books, clothing etc. were neatly organized around me. A single torch lighted the place along with the light shining from the floor above, but it was enough for my elven vision. I could see as well as in daylight. The girl, Shayliss as she had introduced herself, followed me, closed the trapdoor behind her and pointed at the back of the cellar. "That's where I've heard the noises of the rats", she whispered to my ear. I nodded in affirmative, pushed aside my cloak, a hand at the pommel of my kukri and took a few steps forward. It was completely quiet. I took a few more steps and reached the end of the cellar. Peering at the wares and looking at signs of rats, I noticed there was a simple cot in the corner next to me. I strained to hear anything but the only thing I heard was a robe falling to the stone floor, gently brushing soft skin as it fell a few steps behind me. Harsk was right, I shook my head slightly and turned slowly around. She stood in front of me, completely naked, her robe a pile at her feet. Her eyes shimmered in the torch light, and she was smiling mischievously. "I guess you don't have a rat problem, Shayliss", I said softly. She kept smiling and shook her head. Oh my! My heart skipped a beat. There standing in her full glory, she was true beauty indeed. I would've been an utter fool to turn her down the third time. I took it all in with my gaze, cherishing the moment, looking down her face to his round, full breasts, further down to her very feminine hips and mound covered in reddish hair. An ngell nîn, she even had the gap between her upper thighs. All this was crowned by a pair of long, lean legs. She had to have elven blood in her, I thought, aroused. Assured that I wouldn't back down even if the skies crashed down above us, she took three steps forward, moving with the grace and levity of a feline and tiptoed so she could reach higher (I was considerably taller than her) before wrapping her arms around my neck. She kissed me softly, and pulled back my hood so she could see my face in full. I was half-expecting her to recoil at the sight my face - granted, I could be considered handsome, with my build, dark eyes and sharp facial features, but I had a broken nose and a large, ugly scar that ran from my forehead, across my right brow and down vertically to my right cheek, courtesy of an eager gladiator from my past. But seeing my face, she seemed to get even more aroused and affectionately stroked my scar. I guess she liked the dangerous-looking men. I could live with that. She pulled herself tightly against me and kissed me furiously. My hands went on an exploratory adventure across her back and bottom, caressing her soft skin and tracking her curves. She uttered a moan. Oh yes, end of the line. I pushed her to the cot and began unstrapping my leather armor more eagerly that I've would've wanted it to appear to her. ** It felt good to be with a woman again. My first experiences had been during my late years at Horryn's house, with slave girls and servants. I was barely sixteen, seventeen, and those first ones had been less about passion and emotion and more about performance and having fun, like training to shoot the bow. I had even shared one slave girl with my brother. It had been seven years since I had killed Horryn and ran from his estates. Since then there had been only three women I'd slept with. Or rather, I'd f&%+ed two and slept with one. The last one, the one I had made love to.. was hard to forget, and painful to remember. Her family had had a keep in Nirmathas, and I had been paid to teach her two younger brothers how to shoot the bow, track and hunt. Their father, a nobleman called Godwyn, was too preoccupied with local politics and didn't have enough skilled underlings to handle their teaching, so my arrival had been a godsend. Or that's what he had thought at first. The daughter, Aurora, was eighteen, a petite beauty and still unwed and even unmatched with any of the local young noblemen. I think it was because she had quite the temper when it came to her parents, and didn’t think much of the young suitors around her. But for some reason, she became quite attracted with me the moment she laid her eyes on me. And boy did I become attracted to her. She had dark brown eyes and brown hair, such confidence and so much lust for life. Our secret romance lasted a good four months before one night Godwyn's personal servant surprised us in the middle of the act. Heartbroken, I had to leave Aurora and flee else have my head chopped off by the enraged father, whose daughter's 'honour I had violated'. Or at least, he'd have tried to get me killed. But I couldn't stay to challenge him. My consequent exodus from Nirmanthas took me all the way to Korvosa. Shayliss' fingernails burrowing into my skin on my back and drawing blood brought me back to reality and present time. Under me, her legs around my hips, she moaned my name. I responded in the only way I knew - I thrusted myself even deeper and harder into her, and I was awarded with more audible moans of pleasure. Her hands travelled across my back, her fingers following the scars left by countless whiplashes. Passionately I kissed her neck and lips, pushing myself against her as close as I could get and finally climaxed. I let go for just a second, lowering my armor of suspicion, vigilance and alertness for only a fleeting moment. After I had stopped trembling, she just held me close, kissed my forehead and brushed my jet-black hair tenderly. ** But her appetite wasn't sated. Soon after she was riding me, rubbing and grinding herself against me, her hands on my chest and abdomen. I heard something from upstairs, voices of people, but couldn't care less. She neither heard or didn't give a damn either. My hands were on her voluptuous hips, controlling her motion, urging her to go faster. She threw her head back, revealing her sweaty face in full and looked me straight in the eyes. My head was swimming and I was about to climax again. She had such long beautiful hair, the full lips, those big, brown round eyes and for a moment I saw a blazing fire within them and.. Ilori? I blinked rapidly and the vision was gone. But something else was wrong. "SHAYLISS? WHAT IN THE DEVIL'S NAME IS GOING ON!" The girl jumped off me like a rabbit in terror and hid behind me. I sprang up to a sitting position and looked at the person who was yelling at us. Why does this always happen to me, I cursed my luck. At the feet of the cellar ladder, a burly, fat, middle-aged man pointed at me like he was about to cast a spell of death. He was furious. Almost like Frank during his moments of battle rage. I stood up and I quickly sized him up - he was unarmed and posed no threat to me. Of course, me standing there butt naked, sweaty and with my cock pointing straight at him, I too probably didn't seem to pose a threat to anyone. "Now hold on", I started, rising my hands in front of me. Genius. The man started towards me. "Oh father", Shayliss muttered behind me, sobbing and covering under a blanket. Yeah, I realized that much, I thought to myself. "Who the f#!% are you, being here with my daughter?" He screamed and spit and froth flew all over. I really had an issue with fathers. "She's under age, you bastard!" My mouth fell agape and I glanced back at Shayliss, as if to check whether she really was or wasn't. Even beneath the blanket, her womanly figure was undeniable though. "Hey, that's not true and you know it", I tried to reason with the man. Double genius. "As long as she lives in my house, she's underage, you t~##!" He tried to hit me, but I easily blocked his hook with a sharp strike on my own to his arm. He groaned and stepped a good three feet back, holding his hurting arm. I decided to make the best of the opportunity and drew my breeches on. I felt less threatened immediately. A familiar voice came from the trapdoor. I could see the tip of Harsk's beard as he leaned to see what was happening beneath. "What's going on in there", he asked, calling the man. I took the initiative. "Hello Harsk. I'm just coming up. Wait there." The father looked stunned. "What?! You're with him", he roared turning towards the direction of Harsk at the top of the ladder beyond. Thank you Iomedae, I praised Harsk's goddess for her follower's intervention as I pulled on my clothes while the father was distracted. I had everything but my armor on me the moment the father, still enraged and veins bulging in his neck and forehead, turned back to me. "Bastard, we'll talk with the sheriff about this crime!" With the sheriff? I thought to myself, contently. Belor is away and I'm the sheriff here, old man. I remained silent, but couldn't help myself as I turned to Shayliss just one more time and stroked her hair and cheek gently. If the man could've imploded from fury, he would've just right there. I just walked past him, my armor under my armpit, and climbed the ladder up nimbly. At the ground floor, I was greeted by the surprised looks of Harsk and Ilori. I was followed by profanities and stingy demands for us all to get the hell out and to never return. We promptly exited. "Well, I guess we won't get the paper from Master Vinder.. What was that all about", Harsk asked, but I think he knew already, given his wide smirk. "It was something about fathers and daughters", I sighed, gazing at Ilori, who still looked puzzled. "By the way, you are bleeding, Alpharius", Harsk noted and pointed at my back as Bethana came running towards us. Riding Bull I am the DM of this newbie orchestra and I approve of this message! :) While "Alpharius's Journal" at times is something close of a fan fiction and some of the events have been "colored" by Tomi/Alpharius's experience and thus might not seem to be on track of things, it has served us well in documenting the events and Tomi has managed to bring life to events where I may have struggled with lack of experience. Let's just hope this fella gets to keep his health till end, so no one has to pick up from where Alpharius drops his notes ;) Tomi Heikkinen 1 person marked this as a favorite. Riding Bull wrote: I am the DM of this newbie orchestra and I approve of this message! :) While "Alpharius's Journal" at times is something close of a fan fiction and some of the events have been "colored" by Tomi/Alpharius's experience and thus might not seem to be on track of things, it has served us well in documenting the events and Tomi has managed to bring life to events where I may have struggled with lack of experience. Let's just hope this fella gets to keep his health till end, so no one has to pick up from where Alpharius drops his notes ;) WHAT? I'm ALWAYS on track of things! I might not always *coughnevercough* remember the exact words used in conversations, and my notes might be a bit general at times, but these are the truth. j/k, I've taken a lot of liberties filling in gaps and coloring things of course. Writer's prerogative and all. Tomi Heikkinen 1 person marked this as a favorite. 6. LOOSE EARS

25th of Rova - Toilday

Beneath the Glassworks, Sandpoint Tsuto screamed horribly and collapsed to the floor unconscious. The barbarian stood above him, the half-elf's ears in his hands. “What the f*#*!” I winced. Vidarok shook his head, sadly. Ilori, blood on her face, looked upon the half-elf like a condemning goddess. "You've gone too far, Frank", Harsk stated gravely. ** 30 minutes earlier, outside the Glassworks We had made our way, hurrying, from the Rusty Dragon to the Glassworks. After my debacle at the Vinder general store, Bethana had came running to us with a note to Ameiko in her hand. She was shocked. Ameiko had not arrived to the tavern in the morning, and Bethana believed she had disappeared. She had found the note, signed by Ameiko’s half-brother Tsuto, where he had urged her to come to the Glasswork during midnight, last night. In the message, Tsuto warned Ameiko and indicated that their father had had some part in the goblin attack to Sandpoint. Our party had grouped at the tavern and immediately set off to the Glassworks, keen on finding out where Ameiko was, what she had learned and if something had happened to her. The building was quite a sight. After the new cathedral and the ruins of the old lighthouse, it was easily the tallest building in the fishing town. Ornate, colourful windows covered it, and the eye was drawn to the beautiful glass cupola at southern end of the building. I felt immediately that something was wrong with the Glassworks. The place felt eerie - it looked vacant and curtains fully covered each tall window. We asked around before approaching, and indeed, people had noted very little activity around or in the building in the past days. We knew from earlier talks with the town folk that the production of the works had fallen steadily over the past few years, but now the place looked completely dead. We circled the building once, trying each door. All locked. No-one came to answer our knocks or calls. We quickly realized that breaking and entry was our only option if we wanted to find Ameiko and uncover what had happened. We were amost ready to force an entry on any door, when heard voices coming from the western side of the main floor, through the high windows. Harsk and Frank called at the people inside, knocking on the glass. Everything became quiet. Before we would lose all momentum and element of surprise, we decided to act, for better or worse. Frank pulverized the window nearest to him to little shards, bringing down the curtains at the same time and flooding the hall inside with light. Immediately in the low light, I could spot two goblins, wide-eyed. Goblins within the city perimeter, I wondered in disbelief as Frank roared a battlecry, alerting all to the danger. Without pause, Ilori swooped over to the open window and blasted closest goblin to cinders with her ray of fire. Vidarok broke another window, revealing more of the insides of the building and even more goblins. He expertly killed one with a fine sling of a rock. Harsk had remained behind. “Frank!” He yelled, “toss me inside”, and launched himself to a run towards the window. I didn’t see Frank’s expression as I was behind him, but Harsk later told me his face was of utter epic disbelief and Harsk should’ve reconsidered his attempt that very second. As Harsk was running towards Frank and the window, a goblin tried to throw a bottle at Frank, but missed. Frank later said that disturbed him, but we didn’t believe him. Three paces, two, one, and Harsk leaped, while Frank reached with his hands, got a hold of the dwarf and with all his strength hurled him.. ..straight into the wall. I was too preoccupied to enjoy the hilarity of the moment. I had selected a third window next to Ilori. With my gloved fist I smashed it open and ripped the curtains aside. I was greeted by a panicked shriek - a goblin carrying a rusty knife stood right behind the window, expecting the attack to come from another direction. It was without any cover and did have little time to react. I shot an arrow into its belly and it flew back good ten feet. Three goblins were already dead but the fight was far from over. Fourth came running towards me from the darkness, a steaming hot iron in its hand. It jumped on the window and wildly lashed out with the iron. The lucky bastard struck my face, burning flesh on my cheek. I cursed, stepped back and drew a new arrow from the vine. Ilori turned and sent a fireball at my opponent, but missed and set the curtains on fire. Having lost its momentum, all the goblin could do was flail and growl at me. I looked it in the eye. Blood was flowing down my cheek and into my neck. “Your days are over, beast”, I declared simply and loosed an arrow. The goblin stumbled off the window and into the darkness, dead.

As the barbarian and the dwarf were recovering from their botched up attempt at dwarf-tossing, yet another goblin climbed to the broken window next to them and screeched, stabbing at Frank. The brute, growingly mad, brought the earthbreaker up and down, but instead of flattening the green monster, he made a hole in the wall, effectively turning the window into a door. Harsk, who had gotten back up on his feet, slashed past the barbarian and cut down the goblin, denying the kill from Frank. Frank, infuriated by not having been able to kill anything for a while, stormed into the building, typically heedless of any danger. Vidarok followed him in, his motion much more composed. With more light falling inside and time to appreciate my surroundings, I could see the hall where the goblins had been hiding was actually a smelter of some sort, a working area for glassmiths with fiercely burning ovens, work benches and tables. It was dark inside and quite hot, and that reminded me of descriptions of Hell. Ilori walked next to me to the window and took a peek as well. “May I help?” I asked the sorceress overly sweetly, offering my arm to help her through the broken window. She just smiled shortly, before noting two more goblins on the far corner. Flames danced from her hands and struck the cowering beast closest to her. It screamed in agony and fell down burning like a living pyre. The other, horrified by the fate of its comrade and unwilling to fight us, bolted out of the hall through the nearest door. “I’m OK”, Ilori replied to me before leaping in with ease, her cloak billowing. I leapt in behind her. Inside, Frank was struggling with the final goblin in the hall. The earthbreaker arced back and forth, up and down but the brute failed to connect time after time. To his benefit, the goblin was forced to simply try and survive the onslaught. I had a shot but decided not to take it. “Don’t let them get away!” Frank told us with a yell, launching yet another blow that didn’t connect. Vidarok, who had entered at Frank’s heels, decided too not to intervene. Instead, he curiously regarded the surroundings. It was becoming apparent to us that very bad things had happened here. I turned the other way from the brute’s and goblin’s brawl and took some steps, but couldn’t help myself. As I was walking, I drew a new arrow, notched it and rolled back towards them with the intention to shoot.. but stumbled on a glassed corpse and released the arrow prematurely. The arrow-head scratched my calf, drawing a nasty wound. I cursed, and earned chuckles from Ilori and Vidarok. The goblin, now realizing it was alone against us five, decided too that discretion was the better part of valour, spun around and ran out of the hall, leaving an enraged Frank to catch his breath. I was still cursing at my clumsiness as we noted the bodies among the goblins we had slayed. Each was covered in glass. It was obvious the goblins had played with their prisoners, pouring liquid glass onto them. Those sick bastards. For a moment, I felt an uncharacteristic pang of righteousness for ending their lives. Everybody except Frank looked more or less horrified. “Not a worthy way to die”, he simply stated, to no one in particular. Then I found Ameiko’s father among the corpses. I kneeled next to him and touched the glass lightly. The expression on his dead face was of pure pain and suffering, a death grimace. I felt nothing for him, but grew increasingly worried of Ameiko. Was she among the dead? Were we already too late? ** To our relief, we found no trace of Ameiko in the glass-blowing hall. Harsk was gracious enough to cast a healing spell that made the burn in my face and leg wound disappear like they never were there. Meanwhile, Vidarok and Ilori had gone out to warn the townsfolk and ask them to call the town guard. This I immediately considered a bad, potentially disruptive idea. With my wounds healed, I ran after them and bluntly cut their request short. “There’s nothing to worry about, keep moving”, I explained hurriedly to some people who had gathered around the Glassworks. They looked doubtful, given that Vidarok had just a second ago mentioned goblins, but my insistence paid off. I gently but firmly pushed the druid back in. “There’s no point in scaring the locals, Vidarok”, I explained curtly and with a low voice so the others couldn’t hear, “we can handle this by ourselves and the town guard is overextended already anyway.” Certain that we had checked every corner of the hall, we agreed that the building hid at least two other goblins that had managed to escape our wrath. They had ran to two separate directions, so we too split. Vidarok and Ilori headed to the northern part of the building, while me, Harsk and Frank went southwards. Frank and I had, unsurprisingly, completely different methods how to search the building. I let him go first through doors and rooms. At one Y-intersection I signaled Frank and Harsk to stop and remain silent. I had heard a door close some fifty feet away, so I listened hard and had a quick look over the corner. There indeed was a door, far in the darkness. I pointed at Frank and confirmed there was a door and I had heard it close. But Frank, for some reason, misunderstood me, and very loudly and violently smashed in a door only five feet to our right. I covered my face with my palms. Harsk walked past me, following Frank and just shrugged. I decided to let them be and followed the noise myself. I reached the door silently and carefully tried the lock. It was open. I couldn’t hear any further voices from behind it. I notched an arrow and slightly drew the bowstring in anticipation. With my other foot I slowly opened the door. I peered through the opening. Nothing. I pushed the door open a bit more. Still nothing. I steadied myself, drew a deep breath and kicked the door fully open. The room, a lounge of some sort for the glassworks employees, was vacant. There were only some furniture and several doors leading to other rooms. But no goblins. I let my guard down a bit and lowered my bow. Unexpectedly a door to my right came crashing down, the hinges flying through the air several feet. I immediately re-drew my bow string and lifted the weapon towards the new threat. “Oh, hello Alpharius!” Frank greeted me, grinning. I rolled my eyes. That damned brute will get us all killed sooner or later, I thought. Reunited with the barbarian and the dwarf, we continued the exploration of the main floor of the Glassworks. Everywhere was empty - we couldn’t find a single living soul, not even the goblins. Frank was worried they had escaped outside. Harsk discovered the bed hall of the workers. There was blood everywhere, and more bodies. It was evident that the goblins had surprised the men, killed some to their beds and dragged the rest to be tortured and glassed. We didn’t linger there. Near the bed hall, I examined a room next to the kitchen that had been used as a food storage. Baskets, bags and spilled piles of foodstuffs, mainly different grains and flour, littered the floor. I guessed the goblins had ransacked the storage, trying to find something quick and simple to eat, and in their frustration, had made quite a mess. I kicked one bag, and it fell on its side, spilling flour to the floor. I was suddenly quite hungry for an apple. Looking around I wondered if they had any among the foodstuffs. I walked past the piles, baskets and bags, putting my bow to my back to free my hands. I pushed one basket aside, then another, making my way through the mess. Not really seeing where I was reaching, I pushed my hand into one particularly potential basket. Inside I could feel a head. A goblin’s little warm head. Instinctively, I grabbed it, lifted the small beast from the basket and with my free hand, drew a kukri blade from its scabbard. The goblin didn’t even have time to make a sound as I slashed its throat wide open. A bad apple, I cursed inwardly and dropped the corpse. I returned to the others. ** We ran into Ilori and Vidarok at the lounge area. They had successfully investigated the northern side of the building and had found no goblins and little of interest - Vidarok only mentioned a room filled with accounts and other official looking papers that might, with some extensive research, reveal something of the mysterious events of the Glassworks. I shortly told everybody of the hiding goblin in the storage room. But most interesting was that Ilori and Vidarok had found a staircase leading down under the Glassworks. It was our obvious next target. I and Ilori wanted to go there immediately, but the others wanted to retrace our steps and go cut the dead goblins’ ears - after all we knew by then they were worth quite a lot of gold. So we decided to split again. We reached the top of the staircase quite quickly. Then we waited for the others, in silence. I realized it was the first time I was alone with the red girl, so I decided to make some conversation. I cleared my throat. “So, how old are you again?” I asked, not looking at her but keeping my eyes to the darkness of the staircase. Looking back, that really didn’t sound good when it came out of my mouth, given that only hours earlier I had been accused of abusing beautiful, underaged women. Ilori just chuckled, her gaze at the staircase as well. “I’m old enough”, she said simply and with confidence. I was just about to retort and question her ability to fight and function if things really got messy - if someone from our party, including her, really got badly hurt - when the others arrived. So I didn’t get to voice my doubts. ** We walked down the narrow stairs one by one, the druid and the cleric with their darkvision going first, then me, and Ilori and Frank at the tail. Below it was even darker than on the main floor. Even I with my half-elven sight had a hard time seeing what lied in front of us. We walked carefully. As we reached the bottom of the stairs, Harsk signalled us to stop. He had heard something, beyond a corner in the passage. I silently moved to the front and to the corner. I could hear it too. Someone was banging on a door nearby. I took a quick look over the corner and yes indeed, there was a panicked goblin banging a locked door, clearly trying attract someone’s attention within. I turned back to the others. “There’s a goblin trying to get through a locked door, should I take care of it?” I asked, whispering. Nods followed in approval. I leaned over the corner, took aim and shot an arrow. It hit, but didn’t kill the beast. Blood gushed from a deep wound in its neck. It screamed in terror and ran, disappearing behind another corner before I could finish it. But a heartbeat later, the door the goblin was banging, was thrown open and a half-elf leaped out. Our eyes met. Instinctively I knew right away that this was the one who had brought together the goblin tribes for an attack to the city. But the half-elf didn’t attack me - rather, he took off running in the same direction as the goblin. The passage split into two ways at the end of the staircase. I waved the others to go the other way as me and Frank ran after the goblin and the half-elf. When we reached the door where the enemy had appeared from, we exchanged glances. “Go get the bastard”, Frank told me as he entered the room. I complied and swiftly moved to the second corner in the passageway, preparing my bow and arrow. I leaned over and saw the goblin locked in melee with Harsk, the half-elf right behind them, only a measly 20 feet or so away, looking frantically for a way out. I took aim and shouted at the man. “Surrender now and we’ll let you live!” He turned around and regarded me coldly. “Never!” Your loss, I muttered to myself and let loose the arrow. The half-elf moved like a phantom and expertly evaded my shot. I frowned in surprise. A quick one. But my opponent didn’t waste a beat, as he sprung towards me, empty-handed. Next thing I knew he was upon me, and his right fist was flying towards me. I was barely able to block the blow before it could connect with my face. I took a step backwards, and so did the half-elf. Behind him, Harsk gored the goblin with a longsword to its stomach. He was fighting alone against us five. Frank reappeared from the room behind me. “Ameiko isn’t here!” He yelled. “So we’ll want this one alive”, I responded in kind, raising my bow for another shot. “Á pusta!” I ordered the half-elf in Elvish. He was trapped between me and Harsk. “Who are you?” He spat in clear Common. This isn’t going nowhere, I thought to myself. "You don't stand a chance! Give up or die”, I kept demanding, ignoring his question. Frank was now behind me. “Where is Ameiko?” He bellowed furiously over my shoulder. The half-elf flinched and spun towards Harsk. The stout warrior braced for head-to-head close combat but our enemy had other ideas. I released my arrow, missing again, as the mystery man dexterously jumped over Harsk and past Vidarok, who was behind and to the side of the dwarf. Vidarok’s quarterstaff cut only air as the half-elf evaded him. I ran after him to join the melee. His astonishing maneuvers brought her right in front of Ilori. Immediately he struck at her, but his fist slammed against the fire sorceress’ elemental shield. Sparks flickered and died where the hit connected. Vidarok, not a sluggish one considering his bulk, turned around and cast a frostbite on the man. He became visibly less agile, but it wasn’t enough. He kept going against Ilori, and blood spattered on the rocky walls as Ilori was hit to her face twice. I didn’t see the hits but I was amazed she wasn’t struck cold. But it was close. Dazed, her features rapidly covering in her own blood, she cast fire rays wildly at the half-elf. None hit. Upon seeing the damage he had done to Ilori, our blood boiled and we doubled our efforts. Remembering my good experiences with the goblin at the Garret house, I uncovered my head, looked at the half-elf with a deadly intent and for the last time bellowed to the man to give up. He froze for a second, unsure, before leaping again, this time towards me over Harsk. The dwarf angrily demanded the man to stop using him as a jumping obstacle, but the acrobatic half-elf paid him no heed and instead swung a right hook at me. I sidestepped, and the punch went wide. In retaliation, I dropped the bow and rapidly drew my kukri blades. I managed 