317 Langatīnaz
The creatures from Leng attacked the city in force, as the gods had warned they would. From their great fire-ships, the spiders and their yellow-robed mangod. They breached Urheimat and battled the Immanent Gods in the skies above the city. Some of the spiders had some strange devices which.. it's painful for me to put this to parchment. It's almost impossible to even understand. The Leng-spiders' devices began slaying our gods, right before us. Ripping them from the skies. The Urheimat nobles rallied, and I led my fellow high priests to defend the Great Mother at the Jastorf Temple. The goddess hovered above the structure, crushing dozens of the spiders and other tentacled horrors from the beyond, and we ran to her. Along the way, I saw Three Eagle slain over the promenade, Leng-spiders crawling across his vanishing corpse. The Bearded Hunchback saw this and disappeared in a mist of god-magic. Our gods and goddesses were dying!
We humble high priests killed two of the beasts in the streets and approached the Jastorf Temple with all haste. As we arrived, the yellow-robed mangod, the Leng-spiders' leader, stepped from the temple holding the Ousia crystal. Yellow-robe held our most sacred crystal aloft and shouted, sounding like an ocean tearing, and twenty spiders teleported to the Great Mother above and activated their abomination devices. The goddess screamed ten thousand deaths into our heads as she too vanished.
I fell to my knees and retched, my stomach wanting to burst out. For thousands of years my ancestors had worshiped our gods safe in our city. My own line had been high priests in the temple longer than any other. My life's work had been to preserve and strengthen these Immanent Gods through ritual meditation and sacrifice. And now we were losing them, had already lost them? And the creatures had the Ousia. What hope was there for our world?
I will never forgive myself for that momentary weakness and despair at the loss of my gods. In those moments the yellow-robed creature and his spiders hastened to their fire-ships and began to leave Urheimat. By the time I rallied my men in the chaos and set sail after them, they were far ahead. My men too despaired. "What hope have we against them? They killed the gods!" Their resolve wavering, I grabbed the chief instigator and sacrificed him right there on the deck. I called a prayer to the Great Mother as my holy blade slid home, and the goddess whispered back to us! A tiny and almost helpless form of her, but enough to provide some speed to our sails.
We immediately became solid of heart and purpose. We would gain our vengeance on the Leng creatures and retrieve the Ousia. We would re-form our gods through the power of sacrifice, no matter how long it took. As the gods tell us, you do not have to put out the fire when all is ash.
As we closed on the fire-ships and prepared our attack, the clear skies were suddenly filled with squalls and lightning. Normally this would be the work of the Sea-Lord, but he was surely dead as well. Gods, like men, can die. They just die harder, and smite the world with their passing.
A portal, two hundred feet in diameter and lined with purple fire, opened before the creatures. We chased them through the storm and into the fire portal. We held on, and left our placid isle-world to go into the midst of the black seas of infinity into which we were not meant to voyage. We glimpsed the fire-ships ahead, and I saw their yellow sails and seven pointed stars across all their cannons. I saw their webrope. I saw the yellow-robed bastard himself, looking back at me through the blackness under his cloak. I felt his smirk in my soul. After what seemed ten thousand years, or ten gasping breaths of wonder, everything flickered three times and became blue again. We sailed seas. Empty blue seas, with no fire-ships in sight.
This was a week ago. We finally struck land yesterday. We never saw the Leng ships again, though we fought off three pirate attacks. We sailed east and found strange locals who name this land Garund. Is this Leng? Today we begin our holy quest for vengeance. I will hunt them down.
4701 28 Desnus
We have been sailing these seas for six years now. We cannot even find our home again, much less any sign of the monsters from Leng. We continue to investigate everywhere in the world. By now I have sacrificed hundreds of pirates to the gods, and I hear most of them whisper to me when I pray. The gods are tiny distant versions of themselves. I hear them as though they are two inches tall and whispering at me through many layers of cloth. But I hear them. And after sacrificing I feel their power, and may call upon it in their names. These years have not led to word of the monsters, but they have been a bountiful harvest for the gods. I fear pirates will not be enough, however. More meaningful and powerful sacrifices will be called for eventually.
4707 11 Pharast
Finally, at long last, a lead. Captain Ase, Lord Asger, and the crew remain as committed as I to our cause, but we needed some sign.
We all miss home dearly. Sometimes I long for home, for my family, more than the return of the gods. Very often, I long for this, though it is difficult to admit to myself. Being home is not more important than the return of the gods. No matter what I need.
And now we have a sign. I have been told by a scholar to travel to a distant city named Magnimar for some more information on the seven pointed star symbol I glimpsed on the Leng-cannons. She said the star may have a connection to some empire or artifacts near there. I pray this lead is fruitful. But I am cautious against hope, for we have only faced setback on top of setback. As the gods tell us: There is seldom a single wave.
“That’s right. Step on up, folks!” Gil’s voice rang out in the busy market. “The show’s about to begin!”
Several faces in the crowd turned his way.
“A fantastic tale of adventure and danger!”
Gil turned back to the wagon. One side was open to form a tiny stage. His mother, Aelish, was inside preparing herself for the show. Aelish peeked out from behind the curtain. She smiled at him and gave him a nod.
“Alright, gather round. Form a circle. There we are.” Gil moved through the crowd, his voice ringing out clearly. “We are almost ready!”
He stepped out in front of the crowd, raised his arms, and flashed his best smile.
“Welcome, one and all, to the show! What you are about to see is a true story. There will be danger and excitement, love and loss, and maybe a laugh or two. We ask only for your attention and a bit of charity if you’ve been entertained today.”
He motioned to the small coin boxes.
“And now,” His voice lowered. “The harrowing tale of the Silver Lady and her Black Knight!”
He motioned towards the curtain with a flourish. The curtain swung back to reveal a small, wooden puppet. She was painted silver with yellow yarn for hair. The Silver Lady’s voice rang out and the crowd gave a little cheer. His mother was an expert. While the puppets were simply-made, her voice gave them life. When the Black Knight made his sudden entrance, the crowd gave an excited little “oh”.
Gil watched the crowd through a tiny hole in the side of wagon. It was a good crowd. Perhaps, he thought, they could afford a proper dinner tonight. One face in the crowd caught Gil’s eye. This man did not seem as excited as the rest of the crowd. His dirty, worn face was just a scowl. Gil made note of the scowling face.
The show ended with rounds of applause. Gil and Aelish stepped out from the wagon to accept the applause and thank the audience. Coins clinked into their donation boxes.
As the crowd finally began to disperse Gil noticed the scowling man talking to his mother. Gil hurried over just as the scowling man was saying, “… this isn’t enough and you know it!”
“Mum?” Gil interjected.
The scowling man glanced at Gil then pointed a finger at
Aelish. “You got three days!”
Part 2
“A moneylender, Mother?!” Gil was dumbfounded.
“What was I to do, Gil?” Aelish replied, snapping the reigns.
“We were penniless… hungry. I couldn’t just let us starve.”
Gil sighed and waved at the passing townsfolk, forcing a smile.
“We’ll just move on,” Aelish continued, glancing over her shoulder. “They’ve always had a hard time finding us if we keep moving.”
“Mother, we can’t just keep running.”
“We can and we wi—,” Aelish gasped and yanked on the reigns.
Gil looked up to see the scowling man standing in the middle of the road. Several other men stood by him.
“Running away again?” The scowling man growled.
Gil swallowed. They were outnumbered.
“Please, you’ll get your money. I promise.” Aelish pleaded.
“See, boys? I told you they was gonna run off.” The men stepped slowly towards the wagon.
Gil reached towards his belt, where he kept his knife.
“Take ‘em, boys.” The scowling man barked and the men rushed the wagon. One of them grabbed at Aelish, yanking the reigns from her hand. Aelish screamed and tried to kick the man away.
“No!”
Another man rushed at Gil, reaching for him. Gil slashed out
with his knife, but the man caught his wrist. Gil tried to twist away, but a fist slammed into his nose. Pain raced across his face, blurring his vision.
“Wait…” he heard his mother cry out before he slipped into unconsciousness.
Part 3
“C’mon, wake up.”
Gil woke with a start. His mouth tasted of blood and dirt. His eyes blinked open to see the scowling man, leering down at him.
“There. He’s awake now.” The scowling man stood up.
Gil looked around. He was in a small building; a warehouse or barn. A lantern filled the room with an orange glow.
“Let me see him.” A voice spoke from the back of the room.
The scowling man stepped back and Gil saw the owner of the voice. He was tall and well-dressed. The tall man stepped forward.
“How old are you, boy?” The man asked.
Gil squinted up at him. “Who are you?”
The scowling man kicked at him. “Answer him, bastard.”
“Eighteen.” Gil groaned with pain. “I’m eighteen.”
The tall man squatted down next to him and gave him a big smile. “Well, boy, how’d you like to forgot this whole debt business?”
Played by Ron
Dwarf Cleric
Played by Jim
Human Fighter
Played by Naim
Human Warlock
Ost dreams…
He lies on a smooth, cold, stone floor. Above him a tunnel of light – ice crystals, as thin as a finger, as long as a giant’s arm, grow from every surface. They cross, merge, and re-radiate, occupying all the space of the shaft extending above Ost. Far above, a dot of white light shines, the crystals gather and refract it so much that the whole space if filled with a maze of beautiful colors. Ost follows the colors down to where they meet the ground. His gaze comes to rest on an upwards staring face – “A giant!”.
He springs to his feet and backs away but the giant does not move, it doesn’t even turn to face him. At its feet there are more creatures, every race Ost knows and more besides. None stir, all stare upwards with an expression of longing. After a breathless moments, Ost berates himself – “They’re just statues you fool … incredibly detailed and dressed ones… strange.”
He examines the room. A spiral staircase starts next to the giant’s feet, it is all but hidden by the ice growths as it rises through the tower but it is the only way out. Ost inches past the giant and brushes against one of the crystals on the steps. Darkness takes him suddenly…
… He runs through the backstreets of the city, his small size allowing him to squeeze through gaps too small for his pursuers…
Ost blinks – “what was that?’ – he stares doubtfully at the ice needle in front of him – there is no way past without breaking it so he reaches forward …
He runs through the backstreets of the city, his small size allowing him to squeeze through gaps too small for his pursuers. But their longer legs make them faster. Their whoops and calls never fall far behind.
He is caught just as he reaches the main thoroughfares. Long elven hands muffle his cries as he is dragged deeper and deeper back into the alleys. Finally he is born to the ground and held down on his back. Beyond the blind faces of the buildings, he sees a half moon but it is soon obscured by a hooded silhouette. It points a gleaming knife at the moon and intones:
”Merril Halfstep, your reputation for greed and usury has granted this great honor.”
He brings the knife down and carves something into the halfling’s chest. Merril screams and writhes but can’t break free. Sobbing, he barely hears the rest.
”We dedicate this soul to our Lord. He who rules in…”
The knife comes down one more time and Merril knows no more.
The darkness leaves just as suddenly, leaving Ost gasping and crying. Clumsily he feels his chest – no blood – through tears he scans the room for his attackers – nothing. He stands blankly on the step as the memories – “Not mine, it wasn’t me, it wasn’t real! Couldn’t be real!” – recede and he reclaims his identity. Ost stares at the ice shards at his feet, he reaches for the next bit of ice but hesitates – “What if it gets worse?”
Hours or days pass as he stands there frozen by indecision, looking at the ice needle and then, bleakly, up at the thousands more laying between him and the top of the stairs. He makes up his mind when he realizes that he was holding the same pose as all of the statues in the room and he now sees that there was another emotion there besides longing – despair.
“No, not me, I won’t be trapped here by fake memories!” Ost quickly grabs the next crystal and snaps it. Darkness comes…
The window won’t open! Try as she might she can’t get the heavy wooden and glass contraption to swing. The wood must have swollen with the humidity of the attic. “Well,” she thinks wryly, “that won’t be a problem for long, will it?
Already she can smell the smoke seeping through the rags she pushed against the cracks in the trapdoor. Searching for something heavy she finds a length of corroded metal, the remains of her first attempt to cast bronze, quickly she uses it to batter the window out of the way and she scrambles out and up onto the roof of the adjoining forge.
It’s worse than she thought – flames billow from every building on the street, smoke pillars rise everywhere she can see The whole city seems to be ablaze. Screams and shouts echo back and forth. She sees a mob of refugees mill around in the middle of the square at the head of the street, keeping back from the burning buildings but evidently with nowhere to go.
“Help won’t be coming, Orla my girl” she tells herself, “you’ll need to get your own self out of this. And judging by the smoke, sooner would be better than later!”
She calls to mind the plan of the city, and starts mapping out the quickest way for a gnome to get out. But then smoke starts to wreathe around the eaves of the forge roof, and suddenly the whole edifice shudders and breaks beneath her. She has time for a last thought before the searing pain begins: “No! This cannot be! I made the whole building fireproof!”
And light returns, Ost reaches out with a burnt and blackened hand to steady himself. He is surprised to see pale skin instead of charred bones, surprised to find that there is no pain when he breathes… Identity returns slowly – “Yes, I am Ost, human, guide! Not a gnome, not a blacksmith. I didn’t burn, that wasn’t me.” Crouched on the second step, he repeats it over and over until at last the memories fade. He stands and reaches forward but hesitates once again, he looks back at the statues to strengthen his resolve – “Was that gap between the orc and the tentacle-faced humanoid there before?” – he looks back up at the ice maze. The rainbow lights are still there, still beautiful, but he fixes his mind on the barely visible dot of white light at the top: there is the opening, there is release - “Please let it be so. Please!” – Breathing deep, Ost kicks at the next ice needle.
Darkness … An ambush … Pain … Fear … Death … and light. “Didn’t happen to me, it was not me, I’m a human not a giant, I didn’t betray my clan, it wasn’t me.”
Darkness … A chase … Pain … Death … and light. “Not me, not real. I am me, Ost.”
And again, and again … "Not. I, me. Light, up to light”
… and again, and again, and again … for an eternity.
Crying, drooling, mumbling, the figure crawls out of the opening in the floor. Its energy expended it just stops moving once it is completely clear. Over and over it repeats “Not I … I, I … Light.” Eventually, and with monumental effort it flops to its back and stares at the clear sky and at the sun. Tears start streaming down its face, frozen in a grimace of pain, and it cries out “Light!”
Years pass, the sun does not move, nor does the figure, it just stares at it, unblinking. Finally the expression on the face changes, the grimace fades and is replaced by confusion. A glimmer of intelligence steals back into the eyes, slowly the figure sits up and looks around.
Right behind it a hole gapes in the ground, in it: stairs leading down, and — the figure shudders — ice. A circular low wall blocks his sight of anything but the floor. After some false tries the figure gets to its feet, and stumbles up to the wall. The horizon unfolds beyond: a city. Graceful houses set along wide avenues, green parks and age-old trees, all overhung by gossamer bridges connecting the top of lofty spires. No noise, no movement disturbs the city, there is no one here. For a dreadful moment the city looks familiar as a memory surfaces – the forge, the smoke, the burning, everyone died – but it is quickly quashed, “not I, someone else, not… not… me? Me … Ost! Yes! Ost, human, guide, I am me!”
Ost looks back up at the sun; even though it shines with full intensity he can see it in clear detail. It is not a disk, it is a symbol: seven strangely carved shards, arranged into a star shape, he's seen it somewhere else, recently. A memory intrudes again … “it was shaped like a brooch last time” … Ost quashes this too, "there was no last time, it was someone else!” But he falters as more memories come back – he has been here before! He has climbed through the deaths of people before! It has all happened before! And the sun was a brooch last time!
Ost shouts into the emptiness, “Why! What do you want? I took the brooch from the dragon, what do you want this time? Tell me!”
There is no response, not even an echo of his own voice, but above him the sun shatters into splinters…and the darkness settles over Ost one last time.
Ost wakes…
Mumbling and swinging his arms, he comes to on the deck of the ship. He gazes around blankly.
Shirrikri, in bat form, flutters nearby. “Master, you’re awake? Good! Land is coming soon. Why did you shout “no more, no more”?
Ost blinks, memories try to stir, but recede into the depths of his mind, nothing remains but a half glimpsed seven-pointed star. “Did I? Must have been a dream. Nothing important I’m sure.”
Played by Eric
Halfling Rogue
Played by Nick
Gnome Sorcerer
Played by Ron
Human Ranger of Gorum
4695 A.R.
The crowd of servants bustled through the halls of the servants' quarters. The butler himself was in the lead; he was gingerly carrying a small wet body, water was dripping from it.
Disturbed by the noise, the housekeeper poked her head out of her quarters. “What's happening out here? Terach! Do you know what time it is?”
“Lord Gorim's orders,” The butler answered, “He found this boy lying in the rain just outside the doors. We are to take care of him until he regains consciousness.”
“Let me take a look at him,” she said, “Those aren't clothes! What is he wrapped in?”
“It's a scarf,” Ilorina the cook walked up from the other end of the corridor, she took a closer look at the cloth wrapping the young boy from head to toe, it was singed in places and soot covered most of it, but an intricate weaving pattern could still be seen, “yes, it looks like this boy is one of my people. Let me have him, Terach. I'll take care of him.”
4698 A.R.
“He's not mine, father! He's half-varisian! I would never sully myself with… ”
“Yes, yes I know.” Lord Gorim's face showed mild distaste at his son's ranting. “It's just a rumor, why do you let it annoy you so?”
“I want you to get rid of him. He must have started the rumors to gain an advantage somehow.”
“Katrinus, how would it serve him? The boy is only eight, he does not know where he came from or who he is. I will not send him away just to soothe your ego.”
4708 A.R.
Lord Katrinus stood facing the large windows in his late father's study. Behind him the young servant shifted uncomfortably at his position near the desk. The silence stretched on for a few more seconds.
Finally, lord Katrinus turned and spoke.
“I am told that you still do not remember anything about your life before coming here, is this true?”
The young man stuttered, “Yes, my lord.”
“This may be your lucky day then,” a thin smile stretched the lord's lips. “You are, of course, aware of the rumors about you?” He continued without letting the young footman answer, “The ridiculous notion that I and you could share a bond of … parenthood. Well, they are not entirely wrong." The last spat out with distaste.
The servant's eyes widened. “Do you mean — ”
“No I don't!" Katrinus snarled, "There is no link between you and the main house! Now be quiet and listen.” Lord Katrinus turned back to face the window, “Your father was Avrelon Goram, a distant cousin from a minor branch with nothing to distinguish him save a propensity for bad decisions, in business and in marriage." Katrinus's lip curled, "He made enemies, the kind that do not forgive or forget. The kind that are not impressed by a family name.” Katrinus turned slightly to look at the servant, “The kind that would kill to make an example." Turning fully, Katrinus continued, "Your parents feared for their life so they sought refuge here. But they were too slow: on that rainy night, their carriage was found not 300 feet from here, a smoldering wreck with three burnt bodies … and you.”
The young man finally found his voice, "It can't be true, Lord Gorim would have said something…”
“It was his decision to make it a secret. He did it to protect you. My father knew that the killers would come back if they learned you were still alive. So he hid you away, as a servant. To this day, the few who knew the truth are paid for their quiet. And even I wasn't told until just before Father died.”
Lord Katrinus looked at the servant again, “I do not like you, boy, that is no secret. But I promised my father that I would keep you safe, and so I shall. And yet, the fiction of the orphan boy will not hold much longer: you look more like a Goram every day.”
The lord sat behind the desk in the study and steepled his fingers, “And that is why I have decided to put some distance between our faces,” he smiled, “the man Raesho, personal servant and librarian to Lord Gorim, will cease to exist. Instead there will be Rincewind, a mercenary sent to Sandpoint in the employ of House Goram.”
The servant visibly paled, “Sandpoint, my lord? Leave the house? But… but…”
Lord Katrinus stood up, “It's settled. You leave in the morning.”
Played by Eric
Halfing Cleric
That rude patron got what he deserved. Pushing me around like that, insulting my mother! I’ve had enough.
I walked back to the kitchen and prepared the man’s soup. I was so furious; this guy had to learn a lesson. I searched around the kitchen and found some questionable leaves. They were moldy enough to make this soup extra tasty.
I served the soup with a smile and headed back to the kitchen. I had great pleasure knowing he was going to finish every bit of it. That great pleasure ended the next day…..
He didn’t die but knew it was me. My parents found out what I had done and were not pleased. I was to confess to my actions and accept any punishment. That night, I packed some of my things and ventured out of my home town. By the luck of Desna, I was able to find a passing cart that was briefly stopped along a road. I didn’t know where it was heading but I didn’t care. I am not going to be punished for my rightful actions. That guy had it coming.
I don’t know how long it was (I fell asleep) but the stopping of the cart and loud voices woke me up. Off with the canvas covering the good in the back of the wagon. I was caught.
“No one rides for free, Halfling!”
More trouble and I didn’t even know where I was.
“Get out of there!”
I climbed out of the back of the cart, slightly embarrassed.
“Now pay up!”
I reached in my pockets but I knew there was nothing to give. Already knowing this, the large man grabbed me and pulled me into town.
“You better find a way to pay for the ride, Halfling!” Plenty to do here in Sandpoint! You have 2 days.
About Heggun
I like to cook, I learned a few recipes and skills from my mother.
When I finish my daily work, I enjoy my smoking pipe. My grandfather taught me how to pack and smoke a couple weeks ago. At first I didn’t like to smoke, but I learned to enjoy it. My parents do not smoke but don’t seem to care much if I do.