2 Lamashan, 4709 AR
By the shen, how I hate the sewers.
I'm writing this journal entry in the safehouse of the Children of Westcrown (a location whose secrecy I maintain, even in my private journal), after a long and harrowing trek through one of Westcrown's hallmarks of civilization: its sewer system. The thing echoes with age, indicating it far precedes the plebeian constructions above the streets, but this fact makes them no less foul. The more important question, I suspect, is how I, Cheng Wen, arrived there.
It all started with that meeting.
After yet another stunning performance by myself in that insufferable play, The Fiend and I, I was eager to see Janiven again, and hear out her proposition. I set out for Vizio's Tavern, but not before dressing in the simple silks my meager earnings afford me (sweet merciful gods, I could write volumes on how the Wiscrani treat real talent, but that is for another tale).
Vizio's Tavern, as I should have guessed, is a rather low-rent establishment; it appears that Janiven is attempting to restore it for a grand opening sometime soon, but if the fare retains its unpalatability, I fear for its success. Upon my arrival (fashionably late, as always), I found a familiar face among the rabble- that lovely creature Aloysia Zarella. She hardly seems lovely in hindsight, but I was relieved at the time to see a friendly face. Aside from Aloysia and Janiven, two strangers were also present: a half-elf outdoorsman named Jonathan Whiteling, showing advanced age even by his people's generous expectancy, his wolf ally whose name escapes me at the moment, and a nasty, brutish, and short youth named Slappy Wet-Trousers. I was informed that such is the degradation the Wiscrani commonality suffer that they give their children such unpleasant monikers, but I firmly believe these appellations are nicknames given by whatever gang taught him how to wear his armor and weapons with such apparent comfort.
After dinner was served (without wine, I might add), Janiven got down to business.
And I had thought such poetry dead in these streets! I must admit, her words stirred something within me, something I had thought long dead. I must recall her stirring speech and place it into an opera, once we arrive at our inevitable success. The rest of the table seemed amenable enough, with few questions (though, in my recent inebriation, I might be recalling things differently). Few more words were spoken before a youth, later identified as Morosino, barged into the building, very short of breath, and informed us that someone named Arael had been taken by the dottari, and that the Hellknight Order of the Rack appears to be jockeying for custody. This information left Janiven looking grim; my guess is this Arael is her co-conspirator, and/or possible lover. One rarely gets as emotionally compromised as she was with a mere acquaintance.
Morosino soon informed us that the Hellknights had surrounded the building; this news was emphasised by the clang of Hellknight plate approaching the tavern. Janiven quickly ran behind the bar, opening up a trapdoor in the floor, and beckoning us to follow along. As a mailed Hellknight fist began pounding on the door, it became obvious that now was the time to leave.
Thus we found ourselves in the literal bowels of Westcrown. As the stench of a hundred thousand people's excrement assaulted our noses, Janiven lit a torch and informed us that we must find our way to her organization's hidden redoubt by way of sword markers engraved into the sewer walls, and pointed to a sword marker etched into the wall beside her as an example. She warned us that some might be hard to spot, so we should keep our eyes sharp.
Deciding that a single, nonmagical light source in a series of damp tunnels might prove easily extinguished, I hummed a quick sonnet and placed a magical light within Aloysia's lantern, taking it into my hand so as to let the well-armed members of our group utilize both their hands. Janiven handed us each three small vials, each containing a curative potion, and informed us that these make up the entire healing reserve of the organization at this time. It would turn out to be a fortuitous boon.
Hearing Hellknight boots on the tavern floor above us, we made our way into the sewers, hurrying as swiftly as we could and avoiding the slow-moving effluvium running through the tunnels whenever possible. Eventually, we came upon the corpse of a- thing- that, regardless of its odor and unidentifiability, had to be removed from our path. Against my better judgment, I aided my more physically capable allies in attempting to push the body aside, ending up with disgusting rot juice sprayed onto my face when I applied pressure on the mound of dead stuff. I quickly uttered a chant of cleaning, but I must admit, the stuff did get into my mouth, and I have been feeling somewhat sick ever since. I hope it is merely in my mind.
Slappy and Aloysia were eventually able to remove the obstruction, and we were on our way once again. Several minutes worth of travel eventually found us at a corner where a small bonfire cast shadows onto the wall ahead of us. Goblin shadows.
Our light source also made us easily spotted, and the goblins grabbed up crude blades in a vain attempt at self-defense. “Finally,” I thought, “time to see my fellows shine on the field of battle.”
I thought sorely wrong.
Aloysia engaged them first, seemingly forgetting her quarry stood barely three and a half feet high, and swung for a spot that would have gouged out the eye of a giant. Her goblin opponents struck out with their blades, but between Aloysia's deft dodges, her solid armor, and their apparently broken weaponry, no swing found purchase. Soon, Slappy charged forward, but with the tight spacing in the tunnels was unable to reach the goblins. Jonathan's wolf friend also ran forward to engage, while Jonathan and myself hung back, ready to charge forward as needed. I figured my allies would need some inspiration, so I performed the climactic speech from the third act of Prince Roland. As I did so, I noticed a crude door to my right, and began to wonder if it might lead us around these obstinate goblins.
I turned behind us and found that Janiven and Morosino had fled down a side tunnel. Probably for the best, I realized, since while Janiven seemed more than capable of dispatching a handful of goblins, Morosino was barely a child and would surely end up another casualty of the goblin cook-pit.
Soon Aloysia was able to slay one of the goblins, but even as they pushed the vile things back and were able to fully engage them in battle, solid blows (or blows of any kind) were frustratingly few. In fact, it appeared the goblins did as much damage to themselves as their weapons broke against stone walls and Slappy's armor; one goblin even managed to blind himself when one of his blades shattered and sent shards of rusty iron into his eyes. Slappy ended up pulling a vital tendon and quickly began to tire, the swings of his crude club slowing visibly (though his few successful strikes were just as devastating).
Quickly tiring of my allies' apparent incompetence, I decided to try that door.
And behind it stood a man. No, not a man, the corpse of a man. An animated corpse. A shen-damned zombie.
“Merciful gods, do you see that, Jonathan?” I shouted over my shoulder as the zombie stuck me in the chest, breaking at least one rib.
“See what?” he said, still guiding his wolf companion in battle. I backed up, swinging my fine jian into the monster's putrescent flesh but not dropping it, and the zombie strode forth into the hallway.
“THAT!” I cried, fumbling for one of Janiven's donated potions.
“Oh. That.” Jonathan said, and strode towards the zombie. One flick of his scimitar cleaved its head from its shoulders, and the walking corpse walked no more.
So far, he's my favorite.
I turned to check on my allies as I quaffed the potion, and saw that they were still unable to slay the goblins. Slappy was looking a bit pale from loss of blood, and it appeared Aloysia had still not fully realized she was fighting short foes and adjusted tactics accordingly, so I charged down the hallway and swung my blade into the closest goblin, striking the thing in the arm. “That's how it's done, you two.” I said, flicking the goblin blood off my blade. Aloysia did not look amused.
Eventually, Aloysia and Slappy found their hidden reserves of skill and slew the remaining goblins. I quickly marched back to the room where the zombie had been and, after a quick search, discovered a small bag of coins. “I'm keeping this as my competence fee,” I shouted down the hall. Aloysia flipped me what I assume was a rude Wiscrani gesture. “Jonathan, I'll split it with you once we get out of these damnable sewers.” Jonathan looked up from tending Slappy's wounds and shrugged.
Several passages later, we came to a minor sewer junction where three Hellknights stood, waiting for us. Their weapons drawn and pointed at us, they exclaimed, “surrender now, and we will not have to use force!” Slappy and Aloysia responded by drawing their blades; in this case, a response I fully endorse. “I was hoping they'd do that,” said one of the Hellknights to the other, and the battle was thus engaged.
My comrades fought far better this time around, and soon the enemy lay bloodied and unconscious at our feet. Jonathan's wolf went in for the kill, and Aloysia's eyes flashed with bloodlust.
“Stop!” I said. The room grew quiet.
“Excuse me?” Aloysia exclaimed, fist clenched around her rapier.
“We are freedom fighters, not common killers,” I said. “Besides, by showing them mercy we have done them more of a disfavor than merely ending their lives ever would. I imagine the Hellknights do not smile upon failure.” Aloysia was dumbstruck. I'd like to think it was the persuasive truth of my words, but I more readily believe it was due to her immense shock that anyone would think a Hellknight deserved anything other than death.
Just as were were going to search our incapacitated foes for clues or perhaps a small donation to our cause, we heard echoes of stomping metal boots. More Hellknights were on the way. We had to move.
We quickened our pace, eyes ever alert for more sword markers on the wall; Janiven had indeed spoken the truth about their increased difficulty to spot. Another dozen tunnels led us to a blockage of driftwood. We were able to push it out of our way soon enough, but then we became aware of three armor-clad figures in the tunnel behind us. More shen-damned Hellknights. Dressed similar to their allies, we realized that their “full plate” was rather boiled leather over chainmail, and that these were merely armigers, a sort of understudy for real members of the Hellknight orders.
These armigers left nothing to chance and charged us immediately. We pulled back into the more open space behind us, and they followed. As my allies swung their weaponry at our foes, I sang a charming little ditty, attempting to wrap magical bonds of friendship around one of the armiger's minds. “say, friend, have you ever considered the Hellknight Order might not be for you?” I said confident that my incantation had proved successful.
“You know, when I joined the Hellknights, I said goodbye to my only friend." He paused, and looked thoughtful. "Now I've realized I don't even need friends!” the armiger said, and slashed me across the chest. So much for my incantation.
I swung my blade at him, more as a distraction than as an actual attack, and retreated behind my allies, drawing a potion vial as I did so. I began reciting an inspirational speech from The Invincible Dragon General of Tian Shen, which I translated on the spot from its flawless silken Tien into guttural Chelaxian. Its words seemed to have their intended heartening effect and my allies quickly bested these armigers. Aloysia even punctured through one man's chest into his lung, causing him to drop to the stone floor immediately into a pool of what must have been half his body's total blood capacity. I quickly ran forward to administer aid, assuming we were still working on preventing undue loss of life. “grab their weapons! This way we can be certain they won't stand against us later in the sewers!”
“I know a way to guarantee they won't stand against us, ever,” Aloysia hissed, and drove her rapier into the Hellknight's brain. Now was my turn to be dumbfounded. “This mercy mission of yours is a farce, Wen, and it's going to get us killed!”
I walked the next few tunnels in a daze. I had not realized Aloysia was so bloodthirsty. I'll have to keep an eye on her.
But these accursed tunnels snapped me out of my my thoughts as I swung open one of the sewer doors and found a Hellknight blade angled at my throat. “Caught you now, dissidents,” the Hellknight said, voice clear even under his metal helm.
Then I heard a noise, a “THWP-THWP” sound, and two arrows buried themselves into the Hellknight. Blood gurgled from his pierced neck, and he dropped to the floor. “Janiven!” Aloysia shouted, and sure enough, lovely Janiven came from around a corner, bowstring still vibrating, with little Morosino in tow.
“Sorry for abandoning you,” Janiven said. “I knew you were more than capable of handling sewer goblins on your own, and decided Morosino should take an alternate route and meet up with you further down the tunnels.”
“Well, we're just glad to have you back,” I smiled. We've had some Hellknight troubles. “Six individual armigers worth of trouble to be exact.”
Janiven seemed impressed. “You're tougher than you look.”
“It would have been easier if Wen didn't insist on preventing us from killing them,” Aloysia spat.
“I'm just trying to send the message that we're not a gang of bloodthirsty thugs, Aloysia,” I spat back, marching over to within an inch of Aloysia's face.
Janiven gently pushed us apart. “While I agree with Mr. Wen on principle, I understand that you're fighting for your lives down here. Besides, do you think any of these armigers would give half a damn if one of you fell in their attempt to capture you?”
“I suppose you're right, Janiven. I allowed the overarching message to get in the way of our immediate survival. I apologize.” I bowed deeply to her and Aloysia.
Aloysia smiled, but the grip on her rapier was still no less firm.
Without further ado, we hurried down the sewer tunnels. “We're almost there,” Janiven said from just behind us.
Suddenly, disgusting bug monsters dropped from the ceiling. “Ooze bugs,” Slappy muttered, as the sickening beasts bit into our flesh. Each bite burned with caustic spittle, and the smell of our dissolving flesh momentarily overcame the sewer's repugnant aroma.
Acting quickly, I skewered one of the beasts on my blade, then turned to assist Jonathan behind me. The others made short work of the rest of the vile things, especially Janiven, who faced two of them at once and put our crude flailing to shame. As the bugs twitched their last, we tended to our wounds momentarily before setting off once again.
Just as Janiven promised, we soon arrived at a ladder leading up to a sewer access hatch, with a sword marker pointing up. Janiven clambered up the ladder and knocked. A worried man opened the hatch, his face quickly washed over with relief as he saw his leader's visage. We were ushered in, and spent a few minutes catching our breath and cleaning up. I used my cleaning chant to remove the stink of the sewers from each of us, though Aloysia refused to let me touch her, which I reassured her was not a prerequisite for the spell.
After making ourselves presentable, we were introduced to the rest of Janiven's fellow dissidents. It was immediately apparent why we had been recruited. Even with my allies occasional bouts of incompetence, it seemed unlikely that any one of these poor souls could have achieved half our rare successes. Despite this, their spirit was inspiring, and I hope to get to know them all better, especially young Amaya, a fellow Tien and quite the fetching beauty, though she seems to take after Janiven in underplaying her loveliness.
After introductions were exchanged, we engaged the existing members in their previous topic of discussion: a name for this erstwhile gang of rebels. Several suggestions were bandied about, though "Children of Westcrown" caught my ear's attention, primarily for its usefulness in the production of inspiring speeches and plays.
I must find out if anyone in the Children of Westcrown is a passable playwright.
Soon after the matter was settled (We are now officially "Children of Westcrown"), Janiven explained the current situation. It appears that Arael, the gentleman whose kidnapping we were informed of during dinner today, is the leader of our rag-tag gang, and The Hellknights are arranging to assume custody of him from the dottari any day now. If that occurs, and he's taken to Citadel Rivad, the chances of his being seen alive again are negligible. Needless to say, Janiven does not want that to happen.
Janiven proposed that we ambush the Hellknight caravan that will transport him to Citadel Rivad and retrieve him, with as little loss of life as possible. This will be in the fields and trees surrounding Westcrown, and as such not a crime under Wiscrani law (by the shen, I love loopholes). Our less skilled allies will distract the Hellknight outriders, while we will assault the prison transport, subdue its escort, and liberate Arael, returning to Westcrown before the Hellknights can organize a proper retaliation. The group seemed unanimous in their support, though Aloysia shot me a nasty glance when the "minimal casualties" portion of the plan was announced. We discussed ambush spots, eventually settling upon a bridge that would help create a bottleneck and prevent us from being overwhelmed by inexperienced but overeager Hellknights.
But for now, we are all exhausted, and rest will do us all some good. Tomorrow we go shopping for ambush supplies (mostly weapons, as few of us own a bow or throwing spear, it seems), and then we wait for word of our ambush opportunity. I hope that I can find time to rest after all this exc-