Tomi Heikkinen's page

*cough*

*intones the unholy words of thread necromancy*

Hey all. Remember this particular Rotrl campaign journal? One we actually finished?

As I boldly promised all those months ago, when our campaign ended and I finished writing the journal-turned-600 page novel, I really did write that damn second book - a continuation story of our gloomy protagonist, your favorite hooded and masked killer going by the names of Alpharius and Cael Greymarsh.

I'm going to start posting chapters every week in the same blog that I used to publish the journal, so if you remember this story, liked it and would like to read a thrilling fantasy story of vengeance, betrayal, and self-discovery, you might want to check this one out!

Phew. 65 chapters, over 324 000 words. 22 months of writing. Now the story is officially over...

65. EPILOGUE: LOOSE ENDS OF OUR PAST

... or is it?

All you handful of readers who've gone through the entire story, I SALUTE YOU. Big time. It's been an honor and I hope you've enjoyed reading my stuff. But a question: does the story of Cael and Belon merit a continuation?

I've been planning to write an independent novel about the brothers. A dream of mine would of course to have it as one of the Pathfinder Tales, but I know they don't consider amateurs' or "aspiring authors'" stories - one needs have published something elsewhere before that. But if I'd write it just for the sake of it, and maybe to the enjoyment of handful of readers. What do you think?

A preview, the first chapter of the novel with the working title Vengeance: Road to Damnation

Oh, THANKS! I'm still way back on number 50 or 51. Ah, well, winter is coming and all that. Need something to curl up with on those frigid 10-degree Celsius nights we get here in arctic California.

*breaks out the whip* read, read damn you!

And please, 10-degrees Celsius. In Finland, we call that early May.

Wow, all the way to the end. Looking forward to the epilogue!

Thanks! I'll read it through a couple of times and post it soon enough.. and there's a surprise included :)

It is the end of the line for our heroic and anti-heroic adventurers. This one's a bit longer, but it is so for a reason.

I've already written an epilogue so I'll post that soon too, but first, here's the last chapter of our adventure. Enjoy.

“This is it, then”, Alfred whispered, his eyes on our foe.

“Suspicious that he seems to be alone”, I muttered and heard Dûath growl in agreement.
“He will have his traps and tricks prepared”, Saffron commented to me.
“It has been an honour”, the cleric of Iomedae told us, his voice steel, and unsheathed his golden god-touched longsword before kissing its blade.
“The honour’s ours”, answered the magus and smiled faintly as she put her hand on the dwarf’s shoulder.
Only my brother remained silent, but he watched at the runelord intently and clenched his jaws. If I knew my brother at all, he was thinking about how to make Karzoug pay for enslaving him.

64. WHEN IT ALL FALLS DOWN

A chapter where not a single die was rolled. But ah sometimes you don't need one to play a beautiful game..

On the floor, Macharius moaned once and went completely limp, like he had given everything up and waited for death to carry him away. His mouth lolled open, and he was pale as linen, covered in sweat. I stood up, releasing him from my hold, and he didn’t even notice it.

And I could not do a thing but watch him suffer. Since the day I lost my mother and was enslaved, I had not felt as helpless.

63. STRONGEST BONDS CANNOT BE BROKEN

The end is nigh...

Crap, was supposed to write irritaTING instead of irritaBLE but you got my point. Welcome back, looking forward to regular postings :)

Caught up with the new posts, Poldaran. Your text has a great flow, as usual. And Aurora's even more likeable, and Kyle even more irritable with his explicit and implicit bragging and smugness :)

At the Pinnacle of Avarice, a long search comes to an end.

PS. Nice twist you suggested to Riding Bull, NobodysHome & co.

“Kill everyone but my brother.”

62. CHELLAN

Three more..

Note: when we reached the peak of Mhar-Massif we engaged a mountain roper but the poor thing fumbled twice and died horribly. It was so non-epic so its contribution to the story was cut ;)

Hour or so later, we were hiding behind a pile of massive stone tiles, observing a rune giant give orders to two storm giants. All of them were armed, so it looked like a patrol or sorts instead of a work crew. "They're on their own", I noted, taking in the surroundings, and shook my magic wand of gravity bow to a desired effect. Alice cast runes of magic into the air, powering herself, while Harsk prayed and Alfred drank a potion. He began to grow in size as I turned to regard the others. "You know we're going to fight a forty feet tall monster with twenty feet tall underlings, armed with swords bigger than us?"
"Yup", Alfred said eagerly and groaned as his skin turned into metal. I shrugged.
Saffron teleported us next to them and we engaged.

61. RINGS OF THE SIHEDRON

Four more chapters to come, friends...

The time we almost skipped half of an AP chapter. Lvl 15 and going against Karzoug? Pssssh.

“Maybe they can help us?” Alice suggested. “It could be a trap”, I countered, and she rolled her eyes at me. “I don’t think so, Master Alpharius”, Saffron interjected. “They don’t seem threatening.”
“Famous last words”, I muttered mainly to myself, and my panther growled and hissed. At least he understood.

60. SKULKING IN THE SHADOWS OF GIANTS

Enjoy and comment!

I'm making your catching up more difficult ;)

A new chapter is up. In our search for Xin-Shalast we fumble and fall, rise up, only to.. succeed? Fail?

“What is that”, Alice asked, her brow furrowing. My panther was sniffing the air. “A.. a seal?” Alfred suggested. “No, it’s an otter”, I realized. I held my hand. Surely an otter would not pose us any danger? The thick-furred little animal jumped into the strange waters, only to re-emerge to sight and onto a closer slab of rock and ice only forty strides away. It was looking at us intently, curiously even. There was a hint of intelligence in its eyes. Malign or friendly, I could not tell. I wasn’t really keen on finding out.

59. CROSSING THE BOUNDARY

Enjoy and comment :)

Thanks Turin the Mad!

The story continues as the party looks for ways to find Xin-Shalast. Alpharius has one key in his hands, but is he willing to use it..?

Enjoy!

“Master Harsk”, Saffron addressed the god-touched, “how about your deity? Would Iomedae be willing to assist us?”

The cleric cleared his throat, and began to say something, but he stopped short. Seconds later, I heard his voice in my head.
It is time for you to come clean, friend. Your brother might be the key to finding Karzoug. Harsk was messaging me, like he had during the raid against Sandpoint, linking our minds for the span of two thoughts. I knew I could respond to him.

No.

Even as I formed the short answer, I began to see the sense of Harsk’s proposal. I cursed him for it. But he was right – my brother could be a beacon for us to follow. I turned from the window to face the others. Were they worthy of my trust? I had fought with them for a while, but could I share my deepest shame and weakness with them?

58. MY BROTHER THE BUTCHER

Comments are most welcome :)!

Summer break is over and the sixth book begins with some downtime.. but it allowed me to move Alpharius' own agenda forward. Some nice RP ensued. NobodysHome should enjoy this as the idea he gave to GM Riding Bull begins to unravel..

Why would he be there? It can’t be. At the heart of evil. Sitting on a golden throne in the empire of greed, unbound, unguarded. Dark thoughts began to materialize, even darker possibilities. Potential answers to the question why. I refused to believe any of them. He is a prisoner, and I will save him. Or I would bring him back to the fold. He was still my blood. I chose to wear that resoluteness like an armor. Or else I’d go mad.

I should’ve been distressed, but I remembered something, and let out a laugh. Harsk looked at me, puzzled. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing”, I replied, still smiling. I had just wasted at least six hundred gold sails. I didn’t give a damn.

57. DISCERNED LOCATIONS

And thus we bring the fifth book of the AP to a close...

“I’d be interested in the wing of Greed”, Alice interjected, missing the irony, “if only to gain more insight into the powers of Karzoug, and what he can throw at us.” She tried to appear the reasonable woman in the middle. Alfred guffawed. “Now that I can approve.” I frowned at Alice, then turned my attention over to the god-touched. He had not said a word, and was still examining the blade of Flametongue, scowling at the tiny runes of Pride and Lust that had been burned to it.

“What do you have to say, Harsk”, I asked him gruffly. His eyes never left the blade. “We might as well start with bringing the wrath of my goddess to his subjects here.”

56. SIMPLE AVARICE

Then, towards Xin-Shalast!

PS. Ordikon was a wimp.

This one was a beautiful session full of surprises, twists and turns. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed playing and writing about it!

The last succubus, flying only strides behind, howled in anger and despair when she saw what the holy warrior did to her sister, and dove down like an eagle, now completely heedless of any danger. Harsk, covered in crimson, turned to face the onslaught and held his bloodied, awe-inspiring sword high. That's bravery, rooted in religious fervour. Alfred lives for the thrill, but Harsk.. he has a goddess on her side. "FOR IOMEDAE!" He shouted and struck once, powerfully, unstoppably, the blade swinging in a clean arc. It sung as it connected, and the demon's head came tumbling down, neatly separated from its body. The dwarf spat on the headless corpse for emphasis and muttered a curse under his breath. He really should've become a paladin, I thought, remembering something similar happening ages ago in a farm near Sandpoint.

55. DEADLY DESIRE

You know, sometimes when we play I keep hearing this song play over and over in my head.. (you Brits at least should understand the joke)

funny theme..

Anyways, the story continues! Into the heart of vanity the group ventures..

Enjoy!

“By the goddess I need a beer”, Harsk groaned, lying down on his back, letting wisping, gently flowing energies envelop and caress him. We had emptied healing potion into his torn, blackened throat, and yet again the powers of his deity did the rest. The god-touched was hard to kill, and I was thankful for it, even though I didn’t really think about it then.

“That was a disgrace”, I hissed angrily. “Walking to an ambush like that.” My nerves were taut like a drawn bowstring. “We need a plan. A solid plan.”

“We go back there and kill the casters”, Alfred replied calmly, keeping his eye on the tunnel that led to the wing of Pride. I was dumbstruck. “What? That’s your plan?”

54. VAIN UNTRUTH

From the Ravenous Crypts, into the Halls of Wrath..

I kicked the aberration in its ugly face, and it stumbled a step back, allowing me a clear line of sight to the center of the training hall.

There, Alice appeared from the cover of invisibility. Standing with her legs wide apart, her free hand extended high up in a fist, she looked like she was holding something heavy from falling on her. Her outline shimmered in colours of orange, red and yellow, as if she was in a skin-fitting cocoon of protective energy. There were half a dozen adepts of wrath around her, and she was alone with them. They turned to her and charged. Crazy woman was all I had the time to think. But I saw her face, and she was smiling.

She opened her hand. Destruction blanketed her and the adepts as the world around her exploded.

53. BLAZING RAGE

Enjoy! And please comment!

Indeed :D. The only Axe he got now was Alfred's..

Though I think Alice is into guys who are more.. alive.

Comment as a player: Alice's mythic ability Flexible Counterspell (Su) is our official Get out of jail Free card. Lich trying to Deafen AND Blind Alpharius? Nope. Lich trying to Finger Alice to Death? Noooope.

Well, the upcoming chapters will be more straightforward and thus nicer to write.. and then a certain witch will enter and make things that much more interesting ;)

When faced with undead, evil horrors, always, always bring a Harsk.

The nightshade pushed one last time, raging against us and the constraints of the portal, and it finally got out. Its fleshy wings spread out to cover the entire portal room. It prepared to embrace us and take us to a night of eternal evil.

Still, a lone, stout source of light stood against it. “NO“, Harsk bellowed and a chain of light crackled from his form, enveloping and binding the undead in an instant. The nightshade tried to force its wings and limbs at us, but the chains held firm, if only momentarily. It howled in despair and anger, and phlegm and Alice’s blood spattered against Alfred. We had only one chance.

52. THE HUNGRY DEAD, UNCOVERED

Yay, we're back yay

It's ALIVE!

The Strangers enter the

The wood beneath disappeared and I stared into the eyes of darkest nightmares made real only five feet from me. Instinctively I flinched and began to pull back, but I remembered that it didn’t really see me and kept my palm firmly on the door. It was an enormous, seething perversion half a spider and half a bat. It’s long, chitinous front legs scraped and struck the entryway. Parts of its fleshy, oddly transparent wings had made it out of the portal, but it was stuck, unable to fully come through with the sturdy door and the small space around it confining it. But by gods it was eager. Saliva dripped from its sharp, protruding fangs, but perhaps most horrifying was that no sound issued from its bat skull-like head. It pushed forward, inch by inch, like a newborn coming from a womb, but with cold, murderous determination. It was hungry.

In retrospect throwing the coin into the portal didn’t seem such a good idea.

51. THE HUNGRY DEAD, UNBOUND

Enjoy and please comment!

The Strangers are back for the 50th chapter of the story! There are scores to be settled and a certain Runeforge to be entered..

A heartbeat later the cavern shook and we heard rumbling of an avalanche in the distance, followed by an angry roar of a legendary white dragon.

“Here we go again”, I sighed and pulled a dragon-bane arrow from my quiver. Harsk bellowed a challenge in the name of his goddess, swearing we would not let the dragon flee with its life for a second time.

50. SECOND TIME'S THE CHARM

Enjoy!

The story continues as the party takes a breather after facing the white dragon.. but for Alpharius, the journey becomes that much more personal!

Kudos to Riding Bull for delivering easily the most nerve-wrecking session (at least for me as a player and Alpharius as a character), and it wasn't even a fight! Bricks where truly shat that day and I hope I've been able to convey that properly.

Taking it all in, my blood froze like a stream during first chills of winter.

There is a red carpet on the floor, and rubies are sewn to it.

That was how Harsk had described the throne room in which my brother had sat like a bored royal. I pushed past Alfred, each step harder than the last, but I willed myself to the doubledoors and touched them with my palms.

I’m seeing a man, lounging on a extravagantly decorated golden throne.. surrounded by riches, gold, gems, rubies. He is in a throne room. I can’t make out any windows. Gods, I have not seen so rich decoration in my life.

I shivered in a mixture of emotions. Within was a room made of solid gold. The red-gold carpet made a path to the other side, where stood a lone throne. There was someone sitting on the throne but I could not see who.

49. BARRACKS OF XIN

Enjoy!

Dragon hunting, yay!

The beast screeched and gained some altitude. It was turning, coming to a dive. “By Cailean, I know that creature”, Alfred gasped as he gazed to the air, “This is the most feared, mythic dragon of all Varisia!”

“And you wanted to have an afternoon adventure to hunt that thing”, I huffed in anger at the sellsword.

48. STRANGE, DANGEROUS PASTIMES

Please enjoy, rate and comment :)

In next week's episode,

After three long weeks of silence, the Strangers are back! Some business is concluded, bridges are repaired and the search for the Runeforge begins.

I could not see Harsk past the huge brutes but the pale-faced magus was between three of the giants, evading, striking but not parrying. Her scimitar crackled with such energies that it looked like she was carrying a spear of lightning. With another ear-splitting, hair-rising crack she slaughtered the first assailant. She allowed the momentum of her movement carry her over the smouldering remains of her first victim and followed by letting loose a bolt of lightning from her free hand at the one I was in the process of gutting to death. It exploded into bits.

“I thought you’d never wake up!” She yelled at me and Alfred between breaths and ducked one swing of a wooden club. Show-off.

47. SILENT WAIT OF THE SEVEN FACES

Please rate and comment. And enjoy :)!

In next week's episode,

ALPHARIUS + HARSK + GREATER SCRYING = DELICIOUS RP

“For this to work, I need to know as much as possible about your brother”, he started to explain. “In an ideal situation, I would know him personally. That or I’d have a lock of his hair, or at least a picture of him.”

I snorted. “Just look at me, and imagine I have frost blue eyes and silver hair. And no facial scars”, I offered. That made the cleric smile. “That is actually helpful, given that you are twins. Now give me your hands. Tell me more about him.” Again, we locked both our arms together over the mirror like paladin-brothers, and I began to recount facts about my brother. Things about his character. How he thought, how he acted. How he followed Pharasma. How he trained, and how he preferred the greatsword. Harsk took it all in, nodding. Finally, he closed his eyes. “Let us try a connection.”

46. SILVER MIRROR, GOLDEN THRONE

Enjoy and please rate & comment :)

A new chapter, and we step up our game. 'Nuff said!

The half-elf guffawed, and if by cue, his gang members laughed too. “You stole them from a horde of giants”, he repeated what I had said, tasting the words. “What a feat.” As an afterthought, he pulled a scimitar from a scabbard on his belt and pointed it at me lazily. “Then they really aren’t yours, and you won’t mind when I take them from you.”

45. MYTHIC

Enjoy :)

A long break comes to an end and the travels of Alice, Alfred, Harsk and Alpharius (and his loyal panther Dûath) continue. Book five of ROTRL begins as the party returns to Sandpoint from Jorgenfist, and they are yet again contacted by the leaders of Sandpoint to save the day...

This chapter massively downplays the combat while focusing solely on RP. A trend I assume will become the norm in the future, excluding fights that are simply too epic to just summarize *coughdragonscough* *coughAlfredfightinghillgiantsinhisunderwearcough*

Also,

But please, enjoy!

44. THE KEY

The party travels back to Sandpoint, meeting strange folk and strange places on the way..

The session that is partly depicted by this chapter was one of my favourites as a player. Very nice interaction between the party and Riding Bull did a fantastic job setting up the places and the events.

43. A LONG WAY HOME

Enjoy! And please share me some feedback at least by rating :) thanks!

With Mokmurian slain, the group begins to wonder just how the hell they are going to get out of Jorgenfist. But they get sidetracked...

Some really nice RP ensues, including an idea and a roll of natural 20 for a certain handle animal check. Booooo-yah!

42. WE RODE LIKE KINGS

Enjoy!

PS. Also, ladies and gentlemen, please rate the chapters (possible at the end of each chapter), so I can get feedback on which work and which don't! Thanks :)

We are back.

The hunt for Mokmurian under Jorgenfist continues. People get killed in funny and surprising ways.

Enjoy!

41. MASTER OF PUPPETS

PS. This is actually the first chapter that I wrote once and then said f*ck that and wrote anew. My problem, from a storytelling point of view is the barrage of enter room, kill baddies, enter room, kill baddies, ad nauseam. Fleshing out each fight just does not work, which is a shame since each has its moments.

Who did our group find in the ritual chamber? Did they get them out alive?

Read about it in the newest chapter of Book of Alpharius that is about to go beyond 200 000 words.. If you've read it all you'd deserve a medal.

40. MY HERO

This chapter is a bit heavier, more emotional as I try to explore Alpharius and his character. But it's short.

Comments, as always, are more than welcome. Enjoy!

The story within Jorgenfist continues. What guarded the Black Tower? Who lies dead in the pit at the center of the fort?

Read away!

39. FROZEN ASHES AND DEAD FRIENDS

Again, comments are most welcome!

Alpharius fumbled his stealth check (with a +20 modifier no less).. is the infiltration of Jorgenfist doomed from the start? Will the party be drowned in giants?

Read and find out!

38. BREAK AND ENTER*

Enjoy!

*also a very nice track by the Prodigy

The story continues as our heroes learn of the abduction of Ameiko and other townsfolk. They ride north-east in pursuit of the giants and their friends.. but do they catch them in time? And what do they find?

I heard you like cliffhangers, so I got you some cliffhangers..

37. ARMY OF FIVE

Enjoy!

He went his own way... I was sooooo pissed off when we played, and the other guys felt my constant barrage of Rule Of Cool based ideas how Alpharius suddenly makes an entrance to the fight really made the session :D (for one hero point, Alpharius's arrives clinging onto the flying dragon.. or his horse suddenly grows wings.. or the bush next to Alfred stirs and the ranger leaps from within into the melee.. or suddenly, a tip of a gladius bursts from the chest of an unsuspecting giant, falls to the ground, revealing our ranger behind... or one of the town guard mooks suddenly claws his face in the middle of the fight, tearing off a rubbery mask and revealing Alpharius's face under it.. and ten different ideas.)

Riding Bull had none of it :(

Did Alpharius make it in time? What happened during the battle for Sandpoint? Is Sandpoint still standing, or is Alpharius the last one alive of our group of heroes?

Read it all in the newest chapter ;)

36. AFTER THE DUST SETTLES

Enjoy!

We're playing again, woohoo!

That means I get to write again, yay!

In this chapter, Alpharius follows Harsk and Alfred to Sandpoint. The title of the chapter sums up what happens next pretty well IMO.

35. ASSUMPTION IS THE MOTHER OF ALL F*CK-UPS

Enjoy!

Can't... stop... writing...

I produced a very short chapter about the last time Alpharius met with his twin brother Macharius. Here, my purpose was to explore Macharius's character and again, have something for Alpharius to reminisce in later chapters about.

34. ONLY PHARASMA KNOWS

Hope you like it!

Our heroes prepare for the coming showdown. Lots of boozing and gladiatorial games in this one. And talking. We're learning to talk. And I'm learning to mark the discussions down, or at least their content.

This chapter marks the spot where I've practically reached our current situation - the chapter ends at the first quarter of our latest session, and that ended in situation that makes it impossible to turn into a good story.

Enjoy!

33. GOLD, GAMES AND ARRESTED DREAMS

First of two short chapters describing our downtime at Magnimar before the party at Sandpoint. Instead of action, we focused on character-building and interaction. One of the players considered the downtime the 'best RP we've had', which I have to agree. Riding Bull, too, mmhm?

Anyway, through my attempt to capture some that RP in the next two chapters, I'll let you be the judge.

32. A LONG DAY'S END

Enjoy!

Who made it alive from the battle against the Kreeg, Lucrezia and the stone giants? Does Razmus still fear the mighty dwarf Harsk? Do the heroes reach Myriana in time? Can Myriana help Bayden? What has happened to Turtleback Ferry? Does Alpharius "accidentally" kill Yap-Yap the pixie boy?

Read and find out :)

31. A BITTER DEPARTURE

Enjoy!

After two weeks of silence, here is the latest chapter of our adventures in Varisia. After re-taking Fort Rannick, visiting a strange undead fey and narrowly escaping a mass of water flooding the region, our heroes contemplate their next course of action.

This chapter tries to capture what were easily our most epic sessions to date. Ilori's death at the hands of Xanesha is a close second, as was a rather action-packed encounter in an unnamed little town which Alpharius kind of missed almost completely... But more on that in the future! But whereas Ilori's death was more heartbreaking, this one was more intense, and whereas that certain moment had/will have more at stake, it had/will have less Alpharius ;P, and thus a shorter, narrower depiction of events. Sorry in advance!

Since I can't be arsed to re-edit all the italics, boldings, PG-13 words etc. here (this one's almost 13k words long..), I simply ask you to read the chapter in the blog. It has pictures, too ^__^! Also, I do constant editing of the texts themselves and I cringe every time I read the old, un-editable versions here at paizo.com.

Enjoy and please comment!

Surf's up!

Also available at the blog.

Enjoy!

--

29. BROKEN HEARTS, MEMBERS AND DAMS

Fort Rannick

I don't know how long I had sat there, with glassy eyes, the Commander's notebook in my hand. Vale and Jakardros were looking at me oddly as I returned from my reverie. Alfred was munching some dried meat and potatoes, gulping down beer and was completely oblivious to my little away moment. Alice and Shalelu seemed not to really have an appetite and ate in silence.

I lowered my gaze to the notebook. It was beautifully if simply adorned with etchings that looked golden, and had the mark of the brotherhood on its cover painted with bright colours. My fingers wanted to open it, but I hesitated. I had sought my twin brother for seven years. I could wait for a few hours and study the book alone and undisturbed a bit later.

Thanking the old ranger, I stuffed the book into my backpack. The rushing feeling of action one gets during fights had subsided, and the stench of dead men hung around us. I had mixed feelings - of giddiness, and of sadness. Excitement and weariness. I inhaled deeply and willed myself to focus. I found myself hungry.

"The question remains. What are we to do next? Where has Lucrezia and the ogres escaped?" I asked them all. I realized at the same time that we hadn't seen Drake anywhere during the infiltration or the fight itself. Somehow it looked like no preliminary warning had been given - we had got in ridiculously easily and we had jumped on Lucrezia and the heads of clan Kreeg like they weren't expecting us. That was strange.

"No idea about the woman", the old ranger sighed, "but the rest of the Kreeg have most likely ran back to their caves at Hook Mountains."

"What about Shimmerglens and Whitewillow?" I asked him. Alice, Alfred and Shalelu all rised their eyebrows and looked at me, so I explained briefly the love letters the Commander had sent to someone called Myriana, a woman I assumed was a fey, possibly living at Whitewillow.

Jakardros considered this. "Commander Bayden used to leave for two-three day trips to the swamps once a month. He always traveled alone, and never told anyone what he had done or the exact places he had visited. He cited wanting to scout the area as his reason for his trips, as the swamps were within our area of responsibilty. The locals and the Brotherhood typically steered clear of the swamps, so that allowed him more privacy. It is possible that he visited this woman during his trips. It is also possible that he was away on such trip when the attack took place. That's why we can't find his body here."

I couldn't keep my mouth shut. "Or if he had a part in the ploy, and he's not here because of that", I suggested. Jakardros kept looking forward and disregarded my accusation, but Vale shivered in anger across the table to me. His knuckles turned white as he gripped his axes, both on the table for me to see. Witnessing his reaction I almost reminded the brute that his unwavering loyalty to people he thought he knew well had backfired once already, but I chose otherwise and decided to drop the matter. Maybe we could give Commander Bayden the benefit of doubt for now.

We ate for a moment, contemplating our options. I threw some meat for Dûath as well, which he hungrily devoured.

Only then I realized Harsk was not with us. I asked if anyone had seen him. "He's somewhere praying for Iomedae", Alfred informed me, emptied another wooden pint of beer and burped audibly. Shalelu shook her head at the sellsword, a knowing gesture of a person who's seen the other act like that hundreds of times before.

An idea formed in my mind. We didn't really know if there had been rangers present at the dungeons, but we had the means to see without diving into the darkness. There was no reason for Harsk to feel sorry for himself if the dungeons were empty.

I suggested Jakardros that if the dungeons were directly beneath us and the ceiling was less than 15 feet thick, I could examine the dungeons with my magical gloves. The old ranger informed me that indeed, I could try to look through the floors of the infirmary. I asked him to show me where.

I was no stranger to human suffering and the past two days had increasingly numbed me to the sight of dead, mutilated humans. So I didn't really pay attention to the fact that the place looked more like an unkept slaughterhouse than a place of healing and rest. And instead of animals, the organs, intenstines, bones, patches of skin and other bodyparts belonged to people.

I set down to one knee on the floor, brushed aside undried blood and placed my palms on the stone tiles. Jakardros was behind me, watching.

"It's really dark inside", I began. "There's only a little light coming from the stairwell. There are two bodies floating, two males, the other quite young-looking, the other dark-skinned, like Vale, looking older, perhaps in his thirties. It's hard to tell." I let go, and my vision returned to normal. Jakardros merely nodded and turned to leave. I took a nearby cloth that was not dirty and cleaned my fingers and gloves of blood. Two people, that wasn't much. The majority of the Black Arrows had already been slain by the Kreeg before we attacked, and I couldn't say if the two below had been dead already when the waters poured in. Harsk shouldn't worry about them, I mused. Sometimes it felt as the young cleric of Iomedae carried all the weight of the world as his burden.

I followed the old ranger back to the mess hall. It was time to choose what we did next. Time was at premium.

"Again we have few options", I started from the doorway, regarding everyone but Harsk who was still somewhere being regretful. "We follow the ogres back to the Mountains, if they've truly gone there, or we try to find Lucrezia's tracks. Or we go visit this Myriana person at the Shimmerglens."

Alfred shrugged. "My bet's that the woman has gone with the ogres." I had to agree. It felt logical.

Jakardros seemed unsure and unwilling to make a decision. I think all his will was being used to cope with the fact his Brotherhood was crushed and it was falling to him to pick up the pieces. "There's a route to the Kreeg lands through the mountains", he explained absentmindedly. "A path up, that goes through a plateau called Valley of Dead Trees. Getting up there is easy, but after that, the path gets narrower and harder to traverse. And there are.. factors to be considered when getting across the Valley." He added, mysteriously. I never got the chance to ask him to elaborate when Vale slammed his fist to the table. "We need to find Bayden!"

An awkward silence fell to the mess hall. I broke it with a statement. "At least Lucrezia has been depleted of her ogre army. She is on the run, and we appear to have the upper hand." That made Alfred nod. "Indeed. The remaining Kreeg must be in a state of disarray with their leadership all dead and done with."

"All but one", Jakardros murmured to himself and then raised his voice, "but Alfred is right. It will take days, weeks even, before they can become reorganized. The remaining clan will fall upon itself as it seeks for new leadership. From the in-fighting, a new leader will eventually arise."

"Unless we finish what we started and kill all the pesky bastards", Alfred commented with his trademark guffaw. I flashed a smile at that. Exterminating the entire clan was a charming idea.

"I can talk for myself only, and Harsk", Alice broke in and turned heads, "but I really could use some resting time before we head out to seek new fights." She was right. She and Harsk had used their magics extensively during the morning, and they would need time to recharge their powers. There was little sense in running after the enemy with half of our group unable to contribute. Harsk's healing powers in particular were always crucial to us. And even though I hated it, I had to begin to appreciate the things the mage school washout did with her scimitar.

So while the next destination remained undecided, we chose not to run into the rain. Instead, Alfred, Alice and I went out to check the yard and the other buildings with Jakardros, while Vale remained inside the keep and started to gather the dead.

The building next to the outer wall, roughly south-east of the keep, was a storage room, or a meeting space, I couldn't say which due to the destruction. Inside we found a pile of dead people. Some poor men had a long pole driven through their torsos, and they had been burned - no, grilled - like they were some sort of human meat skewers. As said, I had seen during the past two days enough human mutilation to last a lifetime. So I was not surprised to find myself thinking seriously how the hell the ogres had managed to light a proper barbecue fire in this weather.

We had ran past the buildings in the north-eastern corner of the stronghold, but we checked them as well for any lingering enemies or clues about them.

The easternmost was a stable. The horses of the brotherhood had been slain just like their masters. I spotted a few without heads and remembered seeing them in the chapel and in the lower floor of the keep. A giant eagle had been nailed into the stable wall, and it hung there lifeless, its massively wide wings stretched out. Back at Graul farmstead Jakardros had said they were magnificent creatures, and he was not lying. Even in death, this specimen looked majestic and proud. It had no reason hanging there, a mutilated, sick trophy. Another reason to kill all the Kreeg, I cursed to myself. The Carmine Avenger glowed faintly in my grip, and Dûath growled in sympathy.

My dark mood improved a little bit when I noted Jaagrath's headless corpse hanging at the lookout tower's side by a hook. The rangers had replaced the dead ogre warrior's body with Jaagrath's, considering the Kreeg leader a better warning sign for other ogres than the one the leader had himself put up on display. With my sharp vision I noted how the legs of the headless corpse still twitched every now and then. Rigor mortis was setting in.

I stopped at the yard and waved happily at Jaagrath, drawing curious looks from Alice, Alfred and Jakardros.

**

There was only one building left to check - the stronghold really wasn't that big. The remaining house was a small barracks with one entry like the other barracks we had burned.

I chose to remain outside, under a canopy and took out an apple while the others moved in silently. After a moment, Alfred came back. He was excited about something.

"There's a frigging ogre inside, sleeping!" My eyebrows leaped an inch higher. "Excuse me, what?"

Alfred lowered his voice a bit, but he was almost chuckling. "There is! And it doesn't look like much of a fight. It looks like a pansy. In an ogre way. I don't know!"

"Well, kill it then", I offered but Alfred shook his head and went serious. "I want to capture and interrogate it. Alice's with me."

"You want to capture a five hundred pound monster alive?" I said slowly, perplexed and unbelieving. The sellsword just grinned. "We'll go ahead then. I'll even come and watch you get your head slammed into a wall as you try", I sighed, threw away the half-eaten apple and followed him in. It wasn't the dumbest idea of the day anyway. If Alfred succeeded might actually glean some valuable information.

At the small dormitory farthest to the exit there really was a hulking ogre, of the lowest caste I guessed, lying on the floor and snoring peacefully. Alfred whispered for my rope and I handed it over to him, offering him good luck. Jakardros and Alice watched at the sleeping monster keenly as Alfred began his slow approach. His mithral heavy armor didn't clink and rattle that much that time, I had to admit, so he managed to get right next to the ogre without waking it up. But that was the easiest part. Alfred unrolled the first rope and gently began to tie the ogre's feet together. Still incredibly the beast continued to snore as the thick hempen rope slided over and across its ankles. Wasting no time, Alfred moved to the hands next and tied them together as well. Alice went to help him. Still the beast slumbered.

With both ropes tightly secured, Alfred winked to us with satisfaction, drew his trusty axe and shield, and banged the former's side to the latter. The sound was like a loud gong, and it woke the beast up. The sellsword put his boot to its throat and pointed it with his axe, looking menacing. The rest of us gathered around it.

The ogre tried to move and trash a bit but found itself expertly tied up. Alfred's axe on its face didn't help matters. Quickly, it gave up and began to gurgle and spit. It took me a while to realize it was talking in Giant. Jakardros began to translate.

The ogre confirmed that the lady we had faced in the keep was indeed Lucrezia. Some time ago, the stupid beast couldn't say when, the lady had entered and met the clan at their lair in the mountains, and asked for their help.

Further interrogation revealed that the Kreeg were actually ruled by a giant - Jaagrath had just been something between the clan and the giant. The ogre didn't remember nor wasn't willing to tell who the giant was. While the region had a lot of giants, Jakardros knew of only one by name, one called Razmus, but he didn't believe he was commanding the Kreeg. Apparently this Razmus hated the Kreeg ogres almost as much as the rangers did.

Unsurprisingly the helpless ogre proved to be a shallow reservoir of usable insight, so it soon became the time to dispose of it. It really was a wretched pansy as it did not trash or resist one bit when we dragged it out of the barracks to the open air.

"All right, time to die", Alfred informed the ogre nonchalantly in Common and lifted his battle-axe above his head. The very small eyes of the ogre finally went wide in horror - I think it just then realized what we were doing to it.

Vale's bass timbre rumbled like thunder across the yard.

"You got one alive! It's mine!" He came running from the keep, wielding his axes. Alfred looked at Vale, then at the ogre, and put his axe away. Jakardros moved to intercept his brother-at-arms. "Brother, take it-" he began the command but the brute stormed past him and the ogre received Love into its chest, followed by a strike of Peace to its face. Vale was furious. He had hell to pay, and he let all the hate of ogres he felt flow out in an avalanche of violence. He roared the names of his fallen comrades as he struck, again and again. He hacked and he hacked. Ogre blood spurted and flew and the rest of us had to take a step or two back or be drenched in it.

"It's nice that we had the chance to talk with it before Vale found out", Alice murmured as we watched Vale butcher the ogre. But Jakardros wasn't amused. "Vale, stand down", he ordered. The dark-skinned ranger had thrown Love away at some point and kept hacking with the larger Peace using his both hands. He ordered again, more sternly this time. Vale did not stop.

"VALE!" Jakardros shouted angrily and pulled him around by the shoulder. The ranger's face was covered in almost black ogre blood and he was grimacing madly, lost in rage. But the familiar sight of his superior officer brought him back to his senses. His barrel chest heaved as he breathed hard and let his arms relax. At his feet, the body of the ogre was hardly recognizable as nothing more than a pile of raw meat the colour of black and sickly green.

Tears flowed down his cheeks. "I found my brother.." he let out the words through sobs. Jakardros embraced him, offering some consolation, and the rest of us just stood there, each lost in their private thoughts. I thought about my brother, and thanked the gods that he had left the Black Arrows before the slaughter had occurred.

**

We retired back to the keep. We spent the afternoon cleaning up the lower level and discussing our next move. Vale and Jakardros talked us into going to the Shimmerglens and look for the Commander before heading up the mountains and face Lucrezia and the remaining ogres. But first we wanted to send word of the situation in Fort Rannick back to Lord Mayor Grobaras in Magnimar. It was obvious Vale and Jakardros by themselves had no means to maintain the keep and the Brotherhood itself, so warriors and resources from Magnimar were needed direly.

We decided that Harsk, being the most literate and diplomatic of us, would pen the letter to Magnimar. I gave the cleric a piece of paper (from this journal actually) and lent him my pencil and bottle of ink. While the others remained behind to help the cleric write the message, I trusted my help wasn't required and retired to a small guest room with its furniture still intact.

There, I sat down to a bed and took the Commander's notebook from my backpack. Dûath, as always, was with me and lied down on the floor. His green-yellow eyes met mine and he gazed at me intently.

"Here goes", I said to the panther, drew a deep breath and opened the notebook.

Inside there was a page dedicated to each dead, missing or retired Black Arrow brother. Many of the pages were still blank, but scores of rangers, men and women, had been immortalized by a short, personal passage. The handwriting changed as I turned the pages, indicating a change in writer and ergo at the top position. The Brotherhood had served for years, but it was not an old, legendary order. I wondered would all the recently dead fit in the notebook, and would Jakardros have the strength and the willingness to write their passages. Somehow, I knew he had given me the book for keeps and was not intending to get it back.

Finally, I found the page I was looking for. My heart missed a beat as I read the title. Macharius. No family name. Of course no family name. Macharius was a slave name given to him. And he had kept his just like I had. My eyes wolfed down on the words. His passage was short, starting with his entry into the order two years and three months ago. It went on describing some of his heroics during missions, slaying ogres. I was swelled with pride. Then I understood why the passage was so short. He had left only six months later, after losing a brother during a mission, the notes said. He had served for one winter, and the date of his departure was marked at the bottom of the page. He had been here a year, nine months and three days ago. Walking within these very walls. Saying his goodbyes to the rangers who all were now dead. Embarking on a journey away, to a destination I did not know, with a plan I couldn't figure out. Was he traveling with a purpose, or just aimlessly?

The few answers I got only gave birth to more questions. I felt a knot in my stomach. I felt so helpless, vexed and haunted by regret. I was I supposed to do now? Where should I continue? It was like hanging by a cliff edge, almost falling, and seeing a helping hand reach down to you.. only to stop an inch away from your hand. So close, yet so far.

No. I would not wade in self-pity. I willed to remind myself the good side of things. The fact that it said, right here in this little book, that my brother who I had thought long lost, had been alive and well only months ago. I allowed myself to hope he still was.

Evening, and then night, fell. The keep was silent but for Vale, who I heard screaming alone and hacking the corpses of the ogres. Whereas I had come to know my brother might still be there somewhere, he had to bury his come morning.

**
The next morning, before we broke our fast, I went out to catch some clean air. Outside Vale had woken up early (or he hadn't slept one second) and piled the dead ogres together. Flies buzzed in their hundreds over the pile and the stench was awful. But at least it was not coming from humans this time.

Harsk had returned from his self-inflicted solitude for breakfast, the letter to Magnimar in his hand. He didn't speak a lot, even though I had told him what I had seen of the flooded dungeons with my gloves. For him there was no possibility he had caused two innocent deaths, rather it was a certainty. He blamed himself relentlessly. I was just thankful he wasn't part of a temple whose members self-flagellated themselves.

Shalelu joined me, Harsk, Alfred and Alice as we left Fort Rannick towards Turtleback Ferry. At the breakfast table she had told me she was considering staying at Fort Rannick and joining the Black Arrows. I was surprised to be frank. From what I had gathered she had some ties to the place, but she also had loyalties to Sandpoint. And good friends there too. In a rush of words uncharacteristic of me, I talked her into coming with us and search for Commander Bayden at Shimmerglens. If she was about to join the Order, why not start with an act of heroism where she helps bring their commander back?

The rain continued - a light pour but a pour anyway. I was amazed half the lands weren't flooded already, if it had been raining for weeks. We walked south-west, making good time through the forest using a clearly marked path.

After two miles or so, we came across a lonely farmstead. There were signs of live - livestock, smoke coming from the chimney, voices of people. They were no strangers to danger, and they proved it by spotting us almost as quickly as we spotted them, vanishing inside the farmhouse like a pack of rats and barring the door from inside. And they stayed there, even when Alfred tried to sweet-talk them and I had a look with my gloves. It was a peasant family of four. The father told us to bugger off - he had seen the commander yes, but not for the past weeks or so. Lucrezia they hadn't seen moving around, but she was nothing but trouble according to the father. We left them at peace and continued, turning south towards Turtleback Ferry.

A mile or so further, still a good way from the town, I heard a child sobbing somewhere in the forest around us. I raised the Carmine Avenger - not the typical response when hearing a child crying I admit - but I couldn't pinpoint its source. There was something strange about it. I gestured the others to stop and the sobs became louder. "It's magical", Alice said looking around warily, confirming my suspicions. I took an arrow from my vine and nocked it.

"Yapyap! Don't shoot! I mean no harm! Please! Please help me!" A boy's voice came from somewhere around us. I suspected a trap and kept eyeing the woods for any signs of trouble.

"Come out so we can see you", I shouted. Alfred was at point and he lifted his hands in front of him, signaling he was unarmed. I had seen him pull his axe from his belt in a heartbeat so I knew not to worry about him. But the boy did not come from the front but from the back. "Please don't hurt me! Yapyap!", he sobbed behind us, and we turned on our heels. It was a tiny fairy, a bit more than one feet tall, with little colourful and delicate wings, flying in the air. It hovered towards us, and the wings buzzed, striking to fast for my eyes to see.

"I need your help", he said in a tinny, bright voice stricken with sorrow. He seemed to be honest, and genuinely in distress. I lowered my bow and arrow. "Who are you", Harsk asked, trying to sound gentle. "I am YapYap", he told us and flew closer to Harsk who he recognized as a good soul. "Please help me", he added, begging. "What kind of help do you need?" Harsk asked the little flying boy who kept repeating his own name irritably. "My mistress, she is sick. No, she is dying. Yapyap! She's destroying the forest and the glade! She needs help! You must save her!"

"We'll come to the swamp right after we've run some errands at the town-" I started, sounding to my ear totally reasonable but it drove the boy into heartbreaking sobs. "Nooo! My mistress needs your help right away!" Alfred shared knowing glances with Alice and Harsk and nodded at the fairy boy. "OK, we'll come and help your mistress."

The boy's face became radiated by a smile and he wiped away tiny tears. "You'll come? Really? Surely? Yapyap!" He buzzed next to Alfred, took him by the arm with both his little hands and started to pull the mercenary towards north-east. "Come! Hurry! We must hurry! Yapyap!"

I told myself I would drive my adamantine gladius through my head if I heard the fairy boy shout yap yap one more time.

**

There was a single route called Old Sanos Trail through Sanos Forest. The Shimmerglens was positioned between Sanos and Kreegwood, the latter where we had been adventuring and generally making the world a nicer place for the past three days. Old Sanos Trail turned into Wicker Walk, a raised walkway what crossed Shimmerglens marshlands, and at its other end was a solitary, age-old bridge, called Bitter Hollow. Or the place where the bridge stood was called Bitter Hollow. Jakardros had been unclear, and I didn't care that much.

The irritable fairy led us to Bitter Hollow and then over the bridge to Shimmerglens proper. I'd had a bad feeling about the place previously, looking at the region from afar, but it was worse when we reached it. I have never preferred swamps that much - their rot breeds strange diseases and even worse creatures and they are hard to traverse. I liked having solid ground beneath my feet. But I had seen anything like this before. The swamp emanated an hardly visible sickly green light. The undergrowth was dying, or having its life sucked out of it. Puddles of fresh water had been turned to puddles of slime and muckus, and they bubbled, burping free methane and other gasses of rot. I could see no animals, no birds, only the flies buzzing, eagerly enjoying the death and decay. Here, the rainclouds above felt heavier, like a pillow some mighty god was pushing against the lands, ready to suffocate it and let it out of its misery.

The place was sick and unwelcoming. A kind of place no sane person would enter. And YapYap was leading us to the heart of it. We left the wooden walkway and headed south across the marsh.

"Ugh", Alfred exclaimed as his boot got stuck in a small puddle of wetness, rotten grass and leaves. The heavily armored mercenary and the dwarf with his short legs were having a lot of trouble keeping up with the flying fairy. "Problems, sellsword?" Alice said quirkily as she walked unhindered beside him. At Fort Rannick, she had found a pair of Boots of the Mire, a magical pair of longboots that allowed the wearer to traverse difficult swampy terrain as it was a stone path. Smug little bastard, I thought, jumping from hard, dry patches of land to another, evading the puddles and soft ground, Dûath at my heels. I preferred my boots of elvenkind. I felt I could not miss a step or fall with them.

"Yapyap! Hurry!" The fairy was urging us to move faster. "Alfred", I said as I made another jump from one tussock to another, "tell the fairy boy I'll shoot him with an arrow if he says yap yap even once." Pulling himself up from a mire, the sellsword guffawed. The fairy boy didn't hear me or he didn't mind. He was flying farther ahead, increasingly worried.

"Of gods, this is enough!" I heard Harsk curse, and he shouted angrily a spell. From his hands, bolts of blue lights shot into our feet and I felt lighter immediately. Alfred took a step forward and laughed. Then another. I had a look at what he was laughing at and saw him standing on a puddle of dark water. "Waterwalking", Harsk offered as an explanation and started to pace across the swamp without any hindrance. Alice went after him. "And just when I was starting to enjoy your misery!" She exclaimed at the dwarf.

**

Our speed increased but we quickly ran into other problems.

Alfred suddenly stopped for no obvious reason. I saw him focus his gaze on something at the horizon, and I tried to see what he saw, but to no avail.

"YapYap", he started, talking carefully, "is the swamp supposed to cause hallucinations? Cause I'm seeing a sea-faring ship at the middle of the swamp and I don't think it's supposed to be here."

The butterfly boy just flew a circle around Alfred and continued further south. "Yapyap, we must continue!" Harsk walked behind Alfred and tapped his shoulder from below, urging him to come.

A few steps later I felt something go past and through me, a breeze but unlike a wind. A feeling of anguish and despair made physical. I focused, closed my eyes and willed whatever the swamp was throwing at our minds to back away. I opened my eyes, and I felt in control. By Starfall, the marsh was in pain, I realized.

We saw and heard weird, unexplainable things but got to our destination unchallenged. We walked to a dry patch of land that surrounded a small lake. I was no magic-wielder but even I could feel the presence of powerful magics. So this is Whitewillow, I mused, nothing's white. Around the patch of land was a circle of dead trees. No-one, even Shalelu who I thought would be more familiar with the fey and their environments, being a full-blooded elf, could recognize them. The trees looked weird, and at closer inspection their trunks appeared to have human forms. Or as if people had been melded into the tree trunks. The people's hands and hair shot up as branches, but they were dry and grey - lifeless.

I saw Alice gently touch one of the trunks, trying to understand what had happened and what they were. Shalelu kept silent. She had been oddly quiet the whole day. Harsk looked disconcerted, probably sensing the magical plight more keenly than the others, and Alfred was looking towards the lake. A faint mist covered it but we could see there was a little, maybe 40 to 50 feet wide island at the middle of the lake. It was flat, covered in decaying grass and moss. "What has happened here", Harsk asked silently.

"Quick! Please! You must go and help my mistress!" YapYap was buzzing around and pointing at the small island. He flew to a branch of one dead tree and started to sob. "I can't continue further. Please help my mistress. Even death is better than this - a release."

The moment YapYap stopped talking both Harsk and Alice flinched in pain. "Someone is calling me to release them or it.." Harsk started, talking through gritted teeth, his eyes closed. Alice shook her head and stared at us. "I heard it too. I think a love story came to a horrible conclusion here", she offered.

"Let's find out", Alfred stated and started towards the lake. Harsk casted a blessing to us all and added a spell that protected us from evil, and we waded into the shallow waters, not really knowing what to expect.

The water was no more than a feet deep, and we got halfway towards the little island when Alfred jumped and exclaimed, splashing dirty water everywhere. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" He shouted the question. "Hands trying to grab me, rising from the water!" For emphasis, he slashed down with his axe and hit nothing but water. I shook my head and there was a clear No from Shalelu, Harsk and Alice. The sellsword stopped fighting hallucinations, but was still nervous.

Finally, we stepped from the waters to the island. Even though Shimmerglens had been almost void of sounds, it was eerily quiet here. I couldn't even hear my own breathing. It was as everything was standing still, even the air. We walked a few steps over the dying grass and moss, and noticed the small pond at the middle of the island. No more than ten feet across, it formed a perfect circle and its surface was perfectly smooth and unmoving, like oil, but the water in it was clear. Wholly unnatural, I gathered, feeling my nerves starting to tingle.

Something broke the clear surface of the pond. Something started to emerge from it. I couldn't make up what it was a first, but soon I recognized the head of a woman and I shouted a redundant warning to everyone and stepped back. Alice was mumbling something, and I heard Alfred curse aloud, not knowing whether to stand down or prepare for a fight.

She was magnificient, storybook beautiful. Not as beautiful as she was, but stunning in a way that made men fall to their knees and beg for a kiss and a moment with her. Alfred's mouth went wide open. I have to admit I couldn't take my eyes off her either.

But she was ruined. And beneath the grace and beauty she was cold, and dead. As she emerged from the water, hovering up like a stark-naked goddess, I saw her hands and feet were torn apart completely or hanging limply by the skin. Her eyes, when she opened them, were completely black and devoid of emotions.

Alfred had the courage to make the first question. "Who are you?"

The answer did not come from her lips but from everywhere at the same time. It was like a cold wind before a thunderstorm. "You've disappointed me... because of you my beloved is dead..."

"It has to be Myriana", Harsk commented carefully to us. I cleared my throat. "Are you talking about Lamatar Bayden, the commander of Fort Rannick." Upon hearing the name, she turned her unmerciful gaze to me and to this day I feel the shivers of cold from remembering that glance. She cried, a keen wail that hurt our ears. "YOU. You too have disappointed me!" She yelled with fury. I shielded my ears and saw her beginning the motions of casting a spell. I opened my mouth to speak but Harsk was faster. Casting Silence is apparently quick work, and the shrill scream came to an abrupt stop.

"Now what?" I asked, utilizing the moment of silence to discuss our options. Withdrawal started to sound a reasonable choice. "Aw crap", Alfred uttered and pointed at the fey who quite likely was no other than Myriana. She had begun to rise higher, to move beyond the area of the silence spell. It took her a few seconds to hover above it, but as she emerged, she wasn't screaming in rage anymore. A sob had replaced it. Alfred tried a question, as gently as the whoring drunk could.

"What happened to Lamatar?" Tears like mercury flowed from the fey's black eyes. "The ogres... they took him. I- I can't reach him... He's dead." There was finality in her words. We just stood there, numbly, uncertain what to do or say.

"You must bring him to me", she continued and looked at Alfred. The authority in her voice almost made me sit down like a dog. I saw Alfred resisting her like I was, and he nodded leadenly. "We- we will. We'll try. And we'll bring him or his remains to you." And with those words, Myriana sighed, closed her eyes and threw her head back before beginning to slowly hover back into the pond.

**

"Is she all right now?" YapYap asked us when we returned from the island. He was still sitting on a dead tree branch and was fidgeting nervously. Harsk shook his head. "No. She is still dead, but we will try to help by looking for her beloved." Hearing that, YapYap broke into a pitiful cry and buried his face into his hands. We left the place in without further words.

**

We saw more terrifying hallucinations as we made our way back from Shimmerglens. I thought I spotted dead horses trotting in the air. Safe to say I was more than happy to leave the dying, sick marsh.

We had still the message to Lord Mayor Grobaras to be sent, so we trekked east towards Turtleback Ferry. We arrived there at late afternoon, left the letter to the keeper of the general store which also served as the post house in the small village, and had a small bite to eat at the tavern. The mood at the tavern was rough, people kept eyeing us dubiously. I overheard whispers where the locals were connecting us to Lucrezia's businesses. I didn't mind - they were false rumours of little people. As we were leaving, I ran into Tattoo Boy. The poor boy went pale and almost tripped his legs when he saw me. That almost made returning to the rain bearable.

**

We reached the old, sturdy stone bridge that connected Kreegwood and Ashwood we heard thunder approaching from the north-east. Except it wasn't thunder at all.

From the forest across the river a lone man came running in panic. "It's broken! The dam's broken! Run for your lives!"

"The what?" Alfred asked incredulously. "The dam of Storval Deep", Shalelu explained between gritted teeth. "But that's, what, four to five miles away", I said, trying to remember from the maps, unbelieving that water from a lake could create such force. "The rains have been too much for the structure, there's too much water to hold", Harsk speculated, being the dwarf - they typically knew a lot about construction. We watched the lone man cross the bridge still frantically running and yelling at us.

Shalelu started to run towards the bridge. "We're trying to get over so I suggest we run as well!" She shouted to us over her shoulder. We followed suit.

We got over just the second the gigantic water masses came along the river and swept the lands before them. We continued running further up a slope into the forest as the storming waters flooded everything. The waters didn't seem to lose any momentum, and they rumbled past us, ustoppable, towards Turtleback Ferry. In a few moments, I guessed, the parts or the whole town would be hit by the waves.

But that wasn't all. In the murky, roiling waters I spotted two massive, long tentacles shortly break the surface before disappearing beneath. I was reminded of a story of a monster I had read from the Syrpent's Tane, a tentacled sea-beast that lived in Storval Deep. I wondered what would happen to Turtleback Ferry and Claybottom Lake when that monstrosity got there.

"Fellows", I realized, "I think our message to Grobaras never got to leave Turtleback Ferry."

Ah. Well in this alternate universe Vale is the Michael Clarke Duncan who kills first and never asks questions :D (i.e. is the Sarge to Jakardros's Lieutenant)

As they emerged into the corridor, they were faced with a beautiful, mysterious woman. No serpent’s tail then, I thought to myself as I followed right at their backs.

The woman, a lady really, given her exquisite clothing and regal manner, turned to see us rush in and smiled venomously. “Ah, what an handsome hero emerges. A delightful surprise!” She saw Alice behind Alfred. “And you brought a lady-friend with you!”

Alfred was quickly upon Lucrezia but his swing went wide. Alice gracefully stepped next to the mistress and her aim was true. The scimitar crackled with the powers of lightning and she cut our quarry. “I’m no-one’s lady-friend”, she spat.

The rest of us poured into the corridors. Harsk went in third and swooped between Alfred’s legs before driving his longword into the woman. Once more I had to admire his dexterity that defied all reason. Shalelu put three arrows into her body for emphasis. Unbelieavably, the lady merely snorted, but I could sense her brewing alarm at our ability to harm her. She stepped back from the onslaught, and began to whirl around unstoppably. In seconds, her form begun to change to something I, Alfred and Harsk recognized. So there’s the serpent’s tail, I cursed as I saw her legs magically curl around each other, stretch and change colour. It was Lucrezia, our target and the reason we had travelled across Varisia. My quarry. From my position at the doors, I pulled two arrows and nocked them.

**

The old peasant shooks his head and tells his grandson to be still. With loving patience, he urges him to draw a breath and hold it before letting go of the arrow, and not to wait too long. Be confident, he says. Be swift with you movements, he reminds him. Like he has done a hundred times before. The boy’s whole body shakes as he tries to pull back the 20 pound draw with his skinny arms and still remain balanced enough to shoot accurately.

**

This is for Ilori, I whispered and let go a duo of arrows. They covered the distance, 30 feet or so, faster than it takes to blink, but managed only to brush the skin of the whirling serpent woman before exploding with magical fire. I exclaimed in anger and automatically nocked a third arrow and wasting no time, like I had been trained, shot it. Fire blossomed like a beautiful flower at her center mass and she shrieked in pain.

The fight had barely started and the corridor had become awfully full. Jakardros ducked below my line of arrows and tried to add to the rain of arrows but missed badly. Lucrezia was quickly realizing the extent of the threat we presented, and with increased urgency, yelled for help in Giant while she fought to keep Alfred, Harsk and Alice off her.

Her calls were answered.

Next to Alice, a set of doubledoors that led to the chapel – the same Lucrezia had been slamming – were pulled open and the largest ogre I had ever seen stepped to the doorway. He, undoubtedly Jaagrath himself, was wearing only a loincloth and little in the way of an armor. His hair was jet-black, just like mine, and his beady red eyes stared with an everhunger for battle and cruelty. His hands and mouth were covered in blood, but it was not his – apparently we had interrupted his breakfast. When I saw what he was brandishing in a fist that was the size of a human head, I was about to shout a warning to Alice but the hulking monster was quicker.

He slashed with a massive ogre hook at Alice and almost took her head off right there. As it cut air and Alice I heard the hook wail with the sound of hundreds of dying humans. I was shocked. What kind of weapon is that?

The force of the blow threw the pale-faced magus to the ground like a sack of meat. Next to me, the old ranger roared the ogre leader’s name. Looking down at us like we were interesting ants, the hulking beast stepped forward and issued a command in Giant. A coarse laughter boomed in the corridors and a second door opened behind us. From the Commander’s quarter, another ogre appeared at a doorway, this one somewhat smaller than Jaagrath but as fierce. Instead of having a normal jaws, this one sported an leather harness with iron jaws that clacked when they opened and closed.

He had a fitting if unimaginary name. “Hookmaw!” Jakardros exclaimed again as a way of warning before the second ogre’s hook shredded the front of his leather armor and bit into his chest. He took a hasty step back in pain and commanded his mountain lion to challenge Hookmaw. I did the same with Dûath and the ogre found himself unable to join the fight as two growling and clawing big cats barred his way.

Vale had bid his time but he finally left the tribunal. Gripping Peace and Love, the brute of a ranger stormed directly at Jaagrath. Before the gigantic ogre he looked like a small boy but by Starfall he was fearless. Peace hacked at the ogre but the monstrosity easily parried with his magical hook. Unnatural cries of people filled the corridor when the two weapons connected.

With Jaagrath’s attention at Vale, Alice pulled herself out of harm’s way, but not before inflicting a serious wound onto the ogre leader’s thigh with her crackling scimitar. But it was too little – I realized the ogre could end us all with a few of such strikes before we managed to bring him down. Harsk and Alfred were still locked in melee with Lucrezia, but Shalelu concentrated on Jaagrath. Her aim was true and over the commotion of battle she yelled to me to focus on the ogre leader. But he was not my target, I thought, drawing back the bow. Time seemed to slow down as I frantically considered my options. In my grip the Carmine Avenger glowed like it had never glowed before, a bright carmine red as was its name. I felt it almost tremble, a suppressed scream demanding us to slay the serpent woman and exact vengeance.

I resisted its call and I turned my aim slightly to the left before letting my arrows fly at Jaagrath. They exploded on the monster’s chest right above Vale’s head. The dark-skinned ranger flinched and covered his face, but Jaagrath threw his hands wide apart and bellowed in rage. My arrows had hurt him but also made him that more furious. Alice had wisely stepped aside but that left Alfred’s flank exposed. The leader of the ogre clan let out a second bellow and slammed down with his mighty fist. It connected with Alfred’s heavy mithral armor and pushed the sellsword to his knees with a toll that reminded me of the bells in Magnimar. Alfred, violently drawn away from close combat with Lucrezia, had the reflexes to bring his shield up but it was a futile effort. Undercutting with his nightmarish hook, Jaagrath brought the hook up. It’s tip brushed the shield aside and dug deep into Alfred’s abdomen. But it did not stop there. The momentum of the hook was such that it ripped all the way up into his chest. Blood and intestines showered from the poor man and his roar of pain joined the wail of the hundreds the hook had killed before. His axe slipped from his fingers and clanged down to the floor. The sellsword was hanging from the hook like a piece of meat and Jaagrath lifted him up like he weighed nothing, bringing his head right to his own face. The ogre leader smiled as he examined his latest kill. “I can smell your pain little one. I’ll add it to my collection”, he told the sellsword who was wriggling like a fish in a hook, coughing blood and literally leaking his shredded guts out.

But he never got to finish the sellsword. Instead, Vale doubled his efforts and leaped on the monstrosity. His axes hacked and slashed. Bits of ogre meat and blood flew everywhere and Jaagrath was forced to let go off his prize. Alfred fell to the floor onto a pool of his own blood, lifeless.

Vale gave Alice an opening to act, again. But this time the pale-faced magus did not retreat. Horrified at Alfred’s fate, she summoned whatever fatal magics she commanded into her scimitar, stepped toward Jaagrath and executed a single swing. I hate to admit it but it was almost perfect. I don’t think the lumbering ogre even saw it coming but as it struck, my ears buzzed, the hair on my neck stood up and I smelled a weird odour in the air. Then, fast as a beam of light, a pop, then a thunder that deafened us all momentarily. I blinked my eyes to see and as I did, I saw a huge steaming rent across the ogre’s side.

His hook slipped from his fist, and with that, the cacophony of dying, terrified humans ended. The ogre leader fell down backwards like an oak and remained there on the floor unmoving.

Seeing his ally perish, Lucrezia sneered in disgust, unbelief and panic and started to slither away. Harsk was the only one remaining in combat with her, and I shouted the cleric to stay with her, to bring her down, anything. But Harsk never did like to see his companions bleed to death. Instead of heeding my commands, he let the serpent woman go and kneeled next to Alfred.

The sellsword had stopped breathing. His mouth was lolling, and there was an empty stare in his eyes. The little cleric closed his, muttered a short prayer and lowered his palms on the mercenary veteran’s ruined torso. The dance of Harsk’s healing powers was as beautiful as ever, but I had to time to enjoy it. Our quarry was running away from us, and I was the only one unwilling to let her go.

As the combat still raged with Hookmaw, I ran down the hallway to the mouth of a staircase where Lucrezia had escaped. But the staircase – a straight, narrow path down – was empty. She was already within the bowels of the keep and I didn’t want to risk running after her alone. F*cking f*ck. Our commotion was surely drawing the rest of the ogres to our location, I thought, turned and sank one arrow at Hookmaw across the hallway as an afterthought. Dûath finished the beast with leaping and catching his open throat. The panther thrashed with force equal to the ogre’s and almost ripped the ogre’s head off its shoulders.

Jaagrath and Hookmaw put out of their misery, there was one more ogre remaining. She, called Dorella, was a magic-wielder and seer, and a mother figure to the Kreeg clan.

Alone and cornered in the Commander’s quarters, she quickly met the violent, bloody fate she had evaded too long.

As she was being killed, I heard Lucrezia yell at the remaining ogres downstairs with an authoritative voice. Harsk was still mending Alfred, who had come back to us and was cursing and spitting blood in equal measure. I kept an eye on the stairs. “They’ll be here soon”, I stated, hearing the bellows of the ogres nearing. Alfred pushed the cleric aside and got to his feet, telling him he was fine. “Let’s kill them then”, he responded as matter-of-factly and grimaced in pain. He was still hurt but I had to admire his perseverance and the fact that he so undauntedly prepared for another fight right after being almost killed.

Harsk shook his head at Alfred and behind us, Dorella let out her last dying scream. As if following a cue, the first ugly ogre head appeared around the corner downstairs. I welcomed it with an arrow to the face. “They’re here”, I reported and nocked another arrow nonchalantly. Alfred moved in front of me and brandished his axe and shield. “Come on then!” He taunted, and spat a gobbet of blood to his feet.

The ogre, a mere foot soldier of the clan, pushed itself into the staircase. Designed for man-sized creatures, it was all too narrow for its hulking form but still it came up, keeping its shoulders low and sideways to us. Alfred laughed at its attempt to challenge us, a feeble swing of a wooden club that struck Alfred’s shield, and hacked twice with his battle-axe in return. The other hit the lumbering beast nicely on the neck and its severed head bounced down the stairs. I thought it an apt warning sign for the others waiting below, but the ogres were a dumb and thickheaded folk and more came at us. Alfred kept guffawing. “Welcome”, he taunted and turned his head to me and winked. “There’s more traffic here than in a whorehouse!” Despite being vexed about Lucrezia’s escape, I had to smile. Not at his quirky remark, but the ironic fact that his mouth and gums were bloody, just like Jaagrath’s had been.

At the hallway, Jakardros emerged from the Commander’s quarters. “We’ve killed almost all of the leading ogres of the Kreeg clan”, he exclaimed and could not hide the pride in his tone. “The fight’s not over!” Alfred yelled back. Harsk had joined us at the line at the top of the staircase. Between us three, we barred the staircase and formed a deadly bottleneck. “They’d run if they wouldn’t be so stubborn”, Jakardros added. “Let’s cut the big one’s head and throw it down the stairs”, I suggested and killed another ogre at the foot of the stairs with a duo of arrows to its thick head. Lucrezia could have escaped but gods I relished killing the hideous man-eaters. I started to understand why Macharius had spent time with the Black Arrows, despite their obvious lack of professionalism.

I was nocking yet another pair of arrows when we heard a particularly blood-chilling roar from downstairs and a rugged ogre as large as Hookmaw appeared and pushed himself through the mass of dead ogres up towards us. I say rugged but that is an understatement. Half of the ogre’s face was free of skin, and the raw meat and bone was visible. Why was half of his face shaven clean off, I wondered and took aim. The half-face ogre ducked right on time and my arrows flew right above it, hitting an ogre soldier behind it. It followed its evasion with a powerful sideways swing of a hook that hit both Harsk and Alfred. The blade of the hook hit Harsk in his helmet and accidentally shoved it so low that it covered the dwarf’s entire field of vision. “Not again!”, Harsk cursed and tried to pull the helmet off his eyes. The hook also hit Alfred past his stout defences and into his side. He roared in pain and irritation. “Gah, the only place I haven’t been struck today!”

The forward momentum and brute strength of the half-faced ogre was such that it was almost crashing through our wall. Vale and Shalelu both sprinted to our aid, Vale filling the hole blind Harsk had left and Shalelu joining me behind the close-quarters fighters. The sellsword gathered himself and rampaged into a series of wild axe swings and shield slams, and was able to trip the 500 pound monstrosity of its feet. The stairs made slick by ogre blood and entrails did help, naturally. It rolled out of Alfred’s reach and stood up, furious but reeling. It’s end was near but it was not backing down.

“Five gold pieces that you can’t finish it”, I said to Shalelu who took aim beside me. She shook her head seriously and shot it, a beautiful hit that pierced the ogre’s right eye and burrowed into its head. But it did not die.

I snorted and put another arrow through its left eye. Finally it had the decency to fall over and leave this world for good.

**

The fighting ended suddenly and there were no other ogres trying their luck. We let our guard down a bit, and I left the bottleneck.

As I pulled my arrows off Jaagrath’s dead body, I surveyed the ranger’s chapel. I was not a religious type so I could not recognize the symbols of different deities (except for Iomedae’s which I knew was the longsword, thanks to my time with Harsk). But the chapel was free of any symbols. Or instead, all were ruined or covered with torn or cut pieces of humans, giant eagles and horses. On the walls Jaagrath and his clan had hung human and animal heads. There was even a statue of a deity with its head struck off, and on its stead was a half-rotten human head. Venting my hatred, I spat on Jaagrath’s body and cursed his soul and all of his kin.

The commotion had moved outside of the keep. Either Lucrezia was leading them out of the fort in retreat or they were reforming at the courtyard for another go. I listened more closely and it sounded more like a panic, I had to admit.

Alice walked to us at the hallway and I realized I had not seen her during the last combat. She was still hurt from the vicious blow courtesy of Jaagrath, and she had probably been healing herself while we finished the fight. I was about to comment when she approached with a sneer. “How long are you cleaning up the staircase”, she asked, quirkily. Alfred guffawed and retorted. “What, did the pretty girl lose her wits? We’ve been working our butts off like a team of lumberjacks, right Vale? Harsk?” Vale let out a rumble – a joyless laugh – while Harsk just shook his head and brushed ogre blood off his beard. The pale-faced magus stuck out her tongue at Alfred.

Shalelu was still at the top of the stairs and sighed overtly, and went to Alice to take her away by the arm. “There’s too much manly energies here, let’s go somewhere to get you properly healed.”

The comment made Alfred snort. “Anyone willing to get back up the lookout tower to see what’s happening outside”, he asked no-one in particular after a moment. I was examining the death blow Alice had dealt to Jaagrath, and nodded, though the sellsword didn’t see it. “I’ll go”, I said simply and walked away. As I went through where we had come, I saw Jakardros examine the rooms and the dead human bodies, probably looking for his commander.

I paced up to the top of the tower. It was well past midday and the sun was at its apex. Lucrezia was nowhere to be seen. The old barracks still burned, but there was no more movement inside. Instead, a dozen or so ogres, soldier- and sergeant types from the look of theirs, were still present at the courtyard. They weren’t mustering or reforming – they lacked the discipline for that even though the sergeants were smacking and yelling at the more numerous soldiers – but they weren’t loitering either. They were uncertain, and I decided to fuel that uncertainty.

The closest ogre was a hundred and fifty feet away or so, but I felt confident. I nocked an arrow, aimed and let it fly. Over the yard I heard the grunt of pain and the ogre stumbled to its knees, a smoking, gaping wound on its back. A few of the ogre soldiers flinched and made a hasty retreat away from their fallen brother, only to be violently disciplined by the sergeants for their lack of bravery. One of the sergeants lifted its beady eyes and spotted me at the lookout tower. It lifted its meaty fist and gestured at me angrily. I replied with a throat-cutting gesture and left the lookout tower, quite pleased with myself.

At the main tower, Vale and Jakardros were still going through the remains of their brothers-in-arms. The rest were looting the dead ogres for anything valuable. I told them what I had seen – no further fight was to be expected.

Something drew my eyes as I passed the door leading to the Commander’s chambers and went in. Alice was examining the equipment Dorella had been gathering and evidently had not spotted what I had seen. An open lead box hidden under a pile of books and fallen shelves. It was a deposit box with a lock, but its contents were almost spilling out.

I lowered to one knee and pushed the junk off it, and making sure Alice wasn’t looking, searched the box.

Inside there were unsigned letters – love letters, actually – to someone called Myriana. I randomly chose one and read a passage.

“Blinded when it spied her dancing on the tarn, the truest grace to know Whitewillow’s soft embrace”.

Ugh, so awful and cheesy, I furrowed and stopped reading. Apparently the Commander was a moon-lighting poet. But who was this Myriana? Just an innocent woman, or perhaps an agent of Lucrezia? A lover sent to charm and spy on the Commander? Maybe she had been a part of the surprise attack against Fort Rannick? Questions reeled in my head as I put down the letters and examined the next item, a silver jewel box. Inside there was a silver circlet with a tuft of remarkably smooth golden hair on it. Fey hair, I suddenly realized, having seen some in my earlier trips around Lake Encarthan. Hadn’t the halfling brothers told us about feys living in nearby Sanos forest when we had sailed up river Yondabakari? Maybe the hair was Myriana’s? I secreted the circlet and the hair to my pockets, kept one of the letters in my hand and got up.

Jakardros and Vale returned and they looked grim. “There’s no sign of the Commander”, Jakardros reported. The news was neither good or bad, I surmised. I showed them the letter, and asked what was Whitewillow and if Myriana was a familiar name. The latter was unknown to them, but Vale told me former was a location in the middle of a notable swamp west of Turtleback Ferry, called Shimmerglens, at the border of Sanos forest. I told them about my suspicion that Myriana was a fey. Neither of them were willing to speculate, and Jakardros only confirmed that Shimmerglens was known to be populated by the fey.

With the main tower searched, we ventured down the stairs over the bodies of ogres. The sight was not likeable. There were dead rangers lying along the corridors, in the rooms. Some were stuffed into barrels. All were mutilated. It was a charnel house, and it reminded me of Graul farmstead, sans the everpresent stench of s!@!. We went room by room. One, a blacksmith’s workshop by the look of it, was completely stormed. A head of a man sat on the middle of the room, and it had been used as a paint brush. One of the ogres apparently knew how to write, as the walls of the workshop were adorned with texts written with blood.

In another room, an armory, I refilled by arrow vine and stuffed a fur to my backpack. “It’ll be winter soon”, I said in a way of explanation to Harsk, two regarded a set of longswords fastened to a sword rack. He chose one and lifted it away. “I don’t think the rangers won’t mind me taking one back to the boys at my temple in Sandpoint”, he said too, in a way of explanation. I shrugged, and took with me half a dozen of arrows that had been specifically marked.

Shouting from the staircase interrupted our looting and we made quick way back. The Black Arrows had found something.

“The dungeons, they’re flooded”, Vale exclaimed and pointed to a storage room adjacent to the staircase. Within, there was another set of stairs that led underground. But they were now impassable as they were full of water.

It didn’t take a smart person to understand what had happened here and where the water was from. “What was in there”, I asked Vale. He shook his head sadly. “The dungeons. We were hoping some of our brothers were held in there but..” He left the obvious unsaid.

“Oh no, sweet goddess Iomedae I am so sorry”, Harsk whispered and covered his mouth with his hands. The water Harsk had directed into the mountain had chased Lucrezia out of her temporary chambers, but it had also filled the dungeons. Any documents or clues to Lucrezia’s motives, about her soul stealing, were ruined and drowned, as were any Black Arrows who had been imprisoned. It left us all speechless. A dark shroud of sorrow fell upon us.

I turned and left without saying a word. I made my way through the lower level to the main entrance.

Outside, it had started to rain again, and the raindrops were slowly putting out the fire of the old barracks. The ogres had left, their trails clearly visible in the sand. I spotted Lucrezia’s serpent’s tail’s marks on the sand as well. She had made her way to the southern gate. We would have to hunt her, and to finish what we had started.

I returned inside, and found the others sitting silently in a mess hall. It had been cleaned of human remains, but there was still blood everywhere. Some where having, or tried to have, something to eat. At the doorway, I cleared my throat. “We’ve taken Fort Rannick”, I informed the sullen, silent crowd. Noting that no-one really gave a damn, I took a seat on one of the tables next to Alfred and the rangers.

“Now what”, I asked everyone. I might have been blatantly disrespectful of their loss, but godsdammit, we had a hunt still unresolved. As a response, Jakardros produced a small notebook from under his cloak and pushed it across the table to me.

“There’s the Commander’s notebook. It has a passage on every ranger that has served in the Brotherhood. You’ll find one on Macharius there”, he explained. I went wide-eyed in utter amazement. I forgot everything else and with a hand that shook discernibly, I lifted the book.

I remembered why I had escaped the clutches of slavery and why I had travelled across Golarion.

I remembered a promise I had made to a beautiful girl, hanging by her window’s edge, on the midnight I had to leave her.

I was filled with such anticipation that I didn’t notice Harsk was nowhere to be seen.

Finally, I present our attack to Fort Rannick. This one's a big one, and I've added some artistic liberties - I hope people who are familiar with the AP enjoy them. All in all an exciting chapter, with surprising twists and turns..

Read it in the blog as well!

Enjoy! And please comment!

PS. the chapter I posted above is supposed to be read after this one.. ;P

PPS. Apparently this one is so long I have to split it into two :D

--

27. A PYRRHIC VICTORY, DROWNED

Graul farmstead barn

I had never been particularly good at arithmetic. I could do the additions, subtractions, multiplications and divisions as well as anyone, and some geometry but nothing more complex. I was never trained for that. But I knew odds. Especially when it came to fights.

There, glowering at Drake Windstrike, the man a few years my junior, who had the seven-pointed tattoo on his back, I was counting the odds at even. Alfred and Harsk were still wounded and exhausted from the battle with the Grauls. Alice had taken a hit or two and was carrying a broken, bent-out-of-shape scimitar. I was tired but unscathed, I realized only then, as was my panther. In response to my rapidly darkened expression and the challenge in my voice, the Black Arrows instinctively drew closer to each other. They were malnourished and still weak, but otherwise well – and we had just given them weapons and armor.

Harsk grunted in disbelief but did not say a word. Shalelu went completely still. I couldn’t know which side she’d take if it came to blows. That worried me. She kept eyeing Jakardros strangely.

Raindrops kept pattering on the roof and the moonshine distillery still puffed and popped but the barn itself couldn’t have been more silent. Nobody knew what was happening. It was Drake who was first to open his mouth.

“What do you mean, half-elf?” I tried to see any sign of treacherousness in his expression but didn’t find any. Maybe he didn’t know what the word Sihedron meant. His ignorance, if real, was not however an excuse.

“I mean that little, obscure seven-pointed star on your back.” My hands never left the pommels my gladii. “That is the mark of the enemy, of the mistress Xanesha who we hunted down and killed in Magnimar, and Lucrezia, mistress of the sailing bordello of Turtleback Ferry. The latter marked his regular customers with the tattoo, but we don’t know the ultimate reason why she-” I was about to ask it from Drake but he stopped me with a laugh.

“My friend, I haven’t been frequenting that whorehouse”, he started, flapping his hand once at my direction, gesturing I was being ridiculous. Still, I noted a slight edge on his voice, and felt the tension build up. I frowned and lowered mine. “How did you get that tattoo? It is the sign of the enemy that threatens Varisia. It shows you’ve been in close contact with them.” I chose my words carefully, but only to keep things from escalating too fast. I didn’t care if I had to hurt Drake eventually. I wanted information when he could still speak.

Drake matched my gaze with a smile but I could see the hostility in his eyes. “The enemy that threatens Varisia.. you sound so dramatic. This is nothing, a fancy symbol I thought nice when I got this as a young boy”, he explained, lifting his shoulder and turning his back for everyone to see the tattoo in the pale light of the ending day. Harsk and Alfred both narrowed their eyes, recognizing the mark as I had. At least they understood what was going on, I thought to myself.

“Horsecrap”, I bluntly vocalized my incredulity, “too convenient.” From Simmon, the blacksmith back at Turtleback Ferry I remembered hearing that many of the Black Arrows had come and visited Lucrezia’s ship in the past months, years even. I was about to make my point when Vale, the dark-skinned brute of a ranger stepped to me with no friendliness in his manner, gripping his newly-returned pair of sharp axes. To my benefit, I did not flinch nor back down.

“Tread lightly, you’re making dangerous claims about my good friend”, he warned me with his deep, rumbling voice and pointed me with the shaft of Father’s Peace. Unsurprisingly he was being utterly loyal to his brother-at-arms, but a quick glance at Jakardros revealed a spark of doubt in the hunt leader’s mind. While Vale had shown disdain when I had first talked about the possibility of treachery among the Black Arrows as the reason for fall of Fort Rannick, Jakardros had not dismissed the idea.

But we didn’t know what powers Lucrezia had over the men she had marked. I couldn’t not say with any certainty what it meant to have a Sihedron tattoo on one’s back. Maybe they were under an enchantment spell? Maybe Lucrezia could draw their souls out and kill them with a single word? Maybe she could immolate them with a thought? Perhaps they were all guilty of lust and greed only, but innocent otherwise? I didn’t know, so my case was falling flat. No-one else was pursuing the lead of the Sihedron tattoo. Vale was not helping.

“I’ve known Drake for seven years”, he continued, “he is a good and trustworthy brother, who has been with us since his childhood home burned.” Jakardros was nodding, considering the possibilities, and I knew then I had lost him. But my suspicions lingered. There was something horribly wrong, and my gut told me not to trust Drake for a damn. I was unsure I could trust any of the Black Arrows. Who knew if they all carried the Sihedron star?

I was exasperated. “All we know is that star beckons evil and misery. It is their symbol.” I did not bring up how Xanesha’s sibling had mentioned in her letter an elonquent way of marking her victims which I believed the tattoos to be, but I let go of my gladii and pointed an accusing finger at Drake. “I’ll keep my eye on you.” Vale frowned but Drake just let out a light laugh. “Sure, you do that. I’ll sleep my nights better knowing I’ll be watched over.”

Not eager to start another fight and with none of my companions wanting to support me in my case against Drake, I let the matter be and the tension gradually eroded. Vale backed down, as did I. The Black Arrows with their mountain lion gathered close together and exchanged hushed words before starting a fire next to the barn door from loose, dry planks of wood they collected from around the barn. Shalelu chose to sit with them, which irritated me greatly. Alfred, Alice and Harsk huddled together and continued to mend their wounds. I looked for a quiet corner in the barn where I could watch the Black Arrows, sat down on the dirt floor and took an apple from my backpack. Drake turned to see me every now and then and found me sternly gazing at him every time. Few people liked me but I was a man of my word.

With the flame of general hostilities put out, for now, Alfred asked Jakardros to tell us more about the ogre attack against Fort Rannick. I still sat in a dark corner, not willing to participate, but I listened with interest. Jakardros rubbed his eyes, in visible physical pain by just remembering the past days, before beginning. The attackers called ogres of Kreeg were a particularly nasty and large group of ogres that lived in the caves of the nearby Hook Mountains. There had been dozens of them, and while the first battle and Jakardros’ futile attempt at retaking the fort had presumably taken its toll and diminished their numbers, there had to be many still remaining. But what Jakardros was keen to know was if there were any other Black Arrows alive – and were they being kept as prisoners within the walls of the fort. He wanted to find out and if possible, save them from the Kreeg. The notion of ending up as a prisoner of the Kreeg sent shivers down my spine. My mind wandered back to the Graul kitchen and I remembered the half-eaten corpse. Anger and hatred for the ogres and their perverse cousins the ogrekin flared within me. I would die before being taken as prisoner.

Alfred told them about our mission to come to Fort Rannick and investigate why it had fallen silent. While I personally felt our original mission accomplished, I was with Alfred and the others that we ought to pursue further with the remaining rangers. I was after Lucrezia’s head who I increasingly felt was the sibling of Xanesha – with a lower body of a snake or not. And I really relished the chance to rid Varisia of some of the cruel, malicious man-eaters. Alfred and Jakardros both thought our next step was to try to get inside the fort and search for imprisoned rangers. I could see Harsk and Alice agreeing, and Alfred looked around to where I was sitting. Our eyes met and I indicated my approval with a nod.

The hunt leader produced a thin stick of wood and started to draw something in the dirt before him. I was unable to see, and with my interest piqued, I silently rose from my place in the corner and approached the fire and the others.

“This is”, Jakardros began, “a rough map of Fort Rannick. North is this way.” A sector of a circle with a 90 degree corner opening towards south-east resembled the fort and its outer walls, while mountains covered the two sides of the sector to north and west. A river wormed around the walls from one side to another. “There are two bridges and with a gate for each”, Jakardros explained and drew lines across the river at two points, north-east and south-west where the man-made wall ended and natural walls of the Hook Mountains began. “The southern gate was intact but already broken open when we made our attempt to re-seize Rannick. The northern bridge is intact, but the gate itself is unusable. Parts of the walls around it have fallen and blocked it.” As he was explaining, he drew two boxes to indicate the gates and crossed the other. Then he drew a small circle on the wall next to the southern gate. “There is a small entryway into the fort here, basically a ditch of water that runs under the walls. Passable by swimming.” Then he poked at the northern side of the 90-degree sector. “There is a route from the mountains down to the yard of the fort.” He drew a long breath and looked particularly stricken. “It leads to the nesting ground of the giant eagles. Intelligent animals they are, and they have helped us many times in the past. I would dare to call them our allies.” Harsk stroke his long brown beard, lost in his thoughts. “Could we get any help from them?” Jakardros merely shook his head. “I thought about it myself, but during our attempt to take back the fort I saw a score of the magnificient beasts lying low among my dead brothers. I hate to say this but I’m afraid they are all gone.” Vale looked down and shook his head in regret equal to the hunt leader’s as Jakardros shared what he had witnessed.

Alfred pointed with his finger at the different locations in the crude dirt map. “So barring an approach over the mountains, our options are the two gates, and the ditch running under the wall?” A faint smile came and went across the old hunt leader’s face. “No. There is one more route in.” He scratched at the south-western corner of the sector with the tip of the stick. “Here is a waterfall, a rather large one.” Explains the river, I thought to myself. “Choice veterans and commanders of the brotherhood know of a secret passage beyond the waterfall than runs deep in the mountains and into the keep itself.” Only then I noted a box within the sector describing Fort Rannick, in the north-western corner, covering a good quarter of the sector. The keep.

The sellsword chuckled. “A good option. I doubt the stupid ogres know of that.” Jakardros nodded in agreement.

Frowning, I stepped in from the darkness. “Unless whoever handed them the fort told them about it.” I tried to sound reasonable but Drake and Vale looked at me venomously. A shot back a dark glance. Doubt and suspicion were in my blood – and I wasn’t going to drop the matter of possible treachery. I went on. “I think it’s the worst option. I’m betting the ogres, and their possible allies, used that very route in their original attack. If I were they, I’d guard that route the heaviest, or barring a guard, I would fill it with traps.” Jakardros sighed, I didn’t knew whether from irritation or simple tiredness, but I was happy to see healthy doubt in Alice’s, Harsk’s and Alfred’s faces. Jakardros noted as much and didn’t argue, commenting only that the ogres themselves were hardly cunning nor patient enough to utilize such secret passages.

The sellsword took over. “How tall are the outer walls?” Jakardros thought about it for a moment, then answered. “Fifteen to twenty feet.” Not much, easily scalable, I thought but said nothing. “How about the river, how wide and deep is it?” Again, the hunt leader considered before replying. “It’s twenty or so feet wide.. but the current is quite strong.” I heard Alice mutter something under her breath, about her swimming skills I guess. Harsk didn’t look pleased either. “Right. Taking everything in consideration”, Alfred had a look at me and Jakardros, “I suggest we approach the fort from the east, cross the north-eastern bridge and scale the wall at the foot of the mountain.” I liked the idea. “At night?” I asked. “No, it serves no purpose. They have better night vision than any of us, excluding good master Harsk here of course”, Jakardros explained, gesturing towards the dwarf who beamed proudly. “How about at dawn then, with the morning sun at our backs, blinding them?” I suggested in return. That made the old hunt leader smile. “I like how you think.”

We agreed to have a good night’s sleep, scout the area around the fort the next day and make our surprise attack on the dawn of the day after. The rangers offered to have the watch for the night, a small token of gratitude for saving them, which suited our wounded companions more than well. Having spent time with magic-wielders I had also come to understand they rather enjoyed a good night’s sleep to recharge their spells.

As I sat down to stretch my legs and arms, I overheard Shalelu and Jakardros discussing something across the campfire. “..I promise I’ll never leave you again”, Jakardros said to her ear. My interested piqued, I concentrated but didn’t catch what the elven ranger responded. This was obviously a personal exchange but I couldn’t help myself, so I tried eavesdropping. Shalelu had been acting oddly in the past day, so I was eager to know what was possibly behind it. I didn’t want to consider her a liability. The old man continued. “I’m so sorry what happened to your mother.” He knows her mother? Is Shalelu from around here? Questions formed in my head but were left unanswered. They stopped talking and I saw Jakardros hold her hand tightly.

Evening started to fall in earnest. Alfred, ever eager to have a drink of anything resembling alcohol, had a closer look at the still functioning moonshine distillery at the back of the barn. Thankfully Harsk, our brewery apprentice, noted that the booze the ogrekin had been preparing was so potent and poisonous that it would have blinded the sellsword had he taken a single sip. Appalled, Alfred kicked the machinery and retreated in regret and anger. However, being the good person he was, the dwarf offered him a drink from his bottomless tankard of ale as amends. They both got quite drunk soon after.

Alice the magus had her magical scimitar mended by Harsk and examined and identified the different weapons and artifacts we had gathered from the dead Grauls. From the loot, I took a ring of protection like my own which I tied into Dûath’s collar. I hoped it would serve my bold panther well in the coming battle.

Still wary of Drake I was planning to sleep with one eye open, but the day had been too eventful by half and my body was exhausted. With Dûath snoring and purring next to me, I wearily thought about my brother I was now certain was still alive. The campfire crackled peacefully, lighting faintly the interior of the barn and I eventually lulled into deeper slumber than I wanted.

**

The cart jolts, making them stagger. The road is rough, and will get rougher. Two boys, no older than eight, sit on in a small locked cage that the cart carries. Their arms and legs are chained together for the first time in their lives. The other, of jet-black hair and dark brown eyes, looks out into the forest they are crossing. The forest is familiar to the boy, but as they slowly trudge down the road the trees feel so distant and unknown to him. Standing there unmoving, to his tear-filled eyes they resemble people he has known for his entire life but have now turned their backs to the plight and fate of the young brothers. He wants to scream and shout at the forest, beg for its denizens to come and save them but the woods offer no solace, no compassion, and the boy believes he will not see his familiar green ever again. He turns to his brother of silver hair and shining blue eyes. He sits his head beneath his knees, and sobs silently. Their grandfather has told them that they are so alike that it is if they were looking at a mirror when facing each other. The boy does not know what a mirror is but a clear surface of a lake near their home has proven their grandfather true. But their grandfather has also told them that they are not alike. The boy with the jet-black hair is quieter, reserved, angry, smarter. The other, with the silver hair, is out-spoken, stronger, livelier and more sure of himself. Their mother calls them her silver sun and dark moon, and she loves them both equally and dearly. Their mother called them that, the jet-black-haired boy remembers, and in his sorrow he reaches to take his brother’s hand. The cart and the cage they are in jolts and trembles as it passes over the rough road.

**

My doubts were vindicated the next morning, of course.

The sun was already up behind the grey clouds of rain when Jakardros woke up with a startle. He realized quickly what had happened and cursed angrily. “That little c*nt! He was supposed to wake me up!” Our campfire, covered by the canopy of the barn, was just a pile of smoking ash and Drake was nowhere to be seen. I repressed the urge to grin and say I told you so. Despite everything, I liked being right. I added Drake the betrayer to my mental list of people I would hunt down and kill, even though I knew well enough that Vale and Jakardros would personally lead the chase and exact justice when we’d found him.

Jakardros had slept in his armor like a proper ranger and took of running into the rain, leaving us without a word, Kibb the mountain lion at his heels. “What the devils”, Harsk spat and rose to a sitting position drowsily. I chuckled, still enjoying my vindication. “He ran after Drake who apparently has left us during his watch.” Then a cold shiver went through me and my smile died a quick death. Why did not he kill us while we slept? I imagined myself in his position, silently closing our mouths and slicing open our throats, one by one. It had to be the animals, he didn’t want to risk waking them up, I thought and with a pat offered a silent thank you to my panther.

Vale was furious. I thought it wiser not to gloat when the 250-pound bear of a man thrashed and cursed around the campfire of embers. The others were indifferent about Drake’s sudden departure, which frankly surprised and disconcerted me. I found myself feeling increasingly uncertain about my ad hoc companions – were they so confident of our ability to infiltrate the fort or were they shortsighted and plain dumb? Alone with my thoughts, I started to pack my few belongings and took a bite to eat from my trail rations.

After a while Vale finally calmed down and acquiesced to simply seethe in anger. Not before long the rough-edged hunt leader finally returned, soaked and disappointed. “I can’t find his tracks", he reported crestfallen. In my corner I was counting my arrows, getting ready to move out and raised my voice. “If he’s half the ranger you speak of him, he knows how to hide them.” Jakardros nodded, agreeing. “Anyway”, I went on, “we have to assume we’ve now lost our element of surprise. That means that we have to alter our plan of attack.”

Jakardros looked at me with his one good eye. “What do you suggest, bounty hunter?” I saw no other way. “I’m assuming your friend has run off to warn Lucrezia, quite likely to the fort. He knows where we will attack. He also knows what route we’re not even considering. “Or I wasn’t considering, a bit self-centered trail of thought I admitted but not aloud. “The waterfall”, Harsk said, rubbing his chin and beard. "And we need to push the attack today”, Alfred added and I nodded. “Hear hear”, Vale grunted with palpable eagerness, his mouth full of bread Alfred and Shalelu had shared with him. Another man eager to die, I mused inwardly, taking note of another similarity between our sellsword and the brute ranger other than the love of axes.

So it was decided then. We left after a modest, quick trail breakfast. The rain paused for a moment – a lucky break if any – and we made straightest possible way towards our destination. Fort Rannick was only some four miles away and as Jakardros was explaining me the route, I had a curious realization. How had the Black Arrows suffered the presence of the Graul so close to them for months, years even? The rangers had had to know the forest and mountains around their little castle like the back of their hands. So why had they not burned the farmstead and its sick, twisted inhabitants to the ground earlier? It was not like the ogrekin had only recently moved to the place. Either the rangers lacked the courage or they really weren’t that professional. Or they were lax – and that same laxity had allowed treachery to take root within their numbers and ultimately doomed them. I did not know which was worst. And that Macharius had spent time with them.. Beneath my hood I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. But it was done now. The Graul would not slaughter one man, woman or child for their sick pleasure and hunger. Pacing through the rainswept forest behind the Black Arrows I felt oddly motivated about facing the Kreeg. Alfred, Alice, Harsk, Shalelu and I would finish the job the entire brotherhood of Black Arrows had never been able to.

**

A few hours of careful approach later we made way to an edge of forest and the stronghold came to our view in full. Lying prone side by side we assessed what we were seeing. There were no guards at the walls nor at the towers. the only ogres we could see were two smaller ogres armed with clubs and wearing nothing but rags, and one larger, fiercer armed with a nasty looking ogre hook and wearing thick hide armor. Alfred and I dubbed the big one instantly as a sergeant, a title to which Jakardros shrugged, finding it descriptive and true enough. They were all near the broken-open southern gate but well inside the fort itself and the sergeant was yelling at the other two in the language of ogres, clearly displeased with them. What mattered was that no-one was actively keeping an eye on the outside of the fort. This is even worse than in Thistletop, I smiled with satisfaction, remembering the drunk, undisciplined goblins there. Using the carelessness of the ogres to our advantage, we rapidly crossed the open plains across the southern side of the walls and regrouped near the waterfall under the protection of the foot of the mountain. Jakardros wanted to go have a look at the mouth of the cave hidden behind the falling water, and I volunteered to join him.

We circled the foot of the mountain to the waterfall and the pond beneath it. A narrow ledge of rock led along the side of the mountain, offering us a route to the storming waters. Secured to me with a thick rope, Jakardros dove first through them and into the beyond. I felt a tug and followed suit. Dripping with water I found myself in a dark cave. Thanks to my elven eyes I could see the old ranger smile contended. “What’s the matter?” I asked over the roar of the water. “Hmmh? Nothing. It’s just that I’ve never had to use this passage. I’m appreciating the irony that I’m here skulking like a stranger.” Quick to focus on the task at hand, he turned back to the waterfall. “Wait here, I’ll go get the others.”

The cave beyond the waterfall narrowed to a five-ten feet wide tunnel. I could not say whether it was purposefully dug or natural, but it appeared to be as hidden and seldom used as Jakardros had said. There were no lights or sconces for torches on the walls. It was completely dark save for some Alice’s rudimentary light magic shining off Alfred’s shield and my everburning torch. In the shield’s and the torch’s glow we walked down into the mountains expecting a trap or an ambush behind every corner.

Though nervewrecking, we found nothing at first. We had made perhaps a hundred feet in the twisting and turning tunnel when Harsk spotted something in the wall next to him.

“Sweet goddess”, he exclaimed in surprise. I turned around to see him feel and push the solid-looking rock and to my astonishment the stone gave way and parted a bit. Shreds of daylight flooded the dark passage. Jakardros chuckled, a dry, near-empty laugh of a man who has lost nearly everything precious to him. “I thought I remembered hearing about the path having multiple exit points..” Harsk pushed the stone further and peered out through the opening. “There is a wooden building right before us, worn-out, hardly maintained. I think this is the inner yard between the walls and the keep”, the dwarf explained, keeping his voice down. From his position at the point of our sneaky procession, Jakardros shook his head. “You’re right. The building is our old barracks, one we were planning to replace due to its condition. Simply put, it is a death-trap waiting to happen.” You don’t say, I grinned. I moved next to Harsk and matter-of-factly told everyone I’d have a look outside. Hearing no protests, I pulled my cloak of elvenkind fully over me and pushed myself through the gap between stones.

I dropped a feet or so and immediately browsed my surroundings. I was in a narrow space between the sharply rising mountain foot and and the barracks. The building itself was elevated, supported by several wooden beams that lifted the bottom of the house three feet off the ground. I crouched down and had a look of the yard. There were no other ogres present but the three guarding the southern gate. The sergeant was still lecturing and beating the other two ogres, so they did not see me crouching in the shadows only fifty or so feet away. Up that close I took my time assessing our enemies. They were easily taller and more massive than the ogrekin we had ran into earlier, a good ten feet tall every one of them. They were ugly and hideous, and managed to look dumb as nails and deadly to boot at the same time. From Jakardros I had heard that the ogres, while undisciplined, still had a rigid caste-hierarchy based on physical strength and martial prowess. Given that the other ogres where hardly armed and equipped, I surmised that the sergeant ogre was the threat – and what ever stood above it in the hierarchy. I clenched my fists in anticipation. I would enjoy learning to hunt and kill them as efficiently as possible.

I had never been in an army, but the empty yard surprised me. There were a few small buildings at the sides of the walls, but nothing else. No tents in rows. No scores of ogres. That meant a few things. First, ogres did not seem to like the rain as little as we did. Second, their numbers were limited. The keep and buildings, built for men, could house only that many ogres.

Cussing and laughter brought me from my thoughts. The sounds were coming from the barracks so I raised my hands and willed my strange leather gloves to let me see inside. The wall disappeared before my eyes and the sounds became clear. Four ogres, all armed with crude wooden clubs and mauls were sitting on a bloodied floor, talking in their ugly language. Two of them were chewing on long bones with raw meat still clinging to them. I immediately identified them as human thigh bones. In disgust, I let my palms off the board wall and moved further along it. After a few magical peeks I estimated that there were at least ten of the brutes inside in different dormitories. The barracks itself was indeed in lousy condition, ripe for demolition. And a death trap, with windows too small for ogres and as far as I could see only one exit.

I squeezed back into the mountain and made my report. Alfred was first to suggest burning the barracks and the enemies within. “What would you use to light the fire”, I asked the sellsword. The fire would need to be powerful to have the desired effect, and there were still ogres nearby, deeming setting the house on fire from multiple points too risky. “My everburning torch and arrows would not work”, I added. “The wood used in the barracks is quite flammamble”, Jakardros noted us. Alfred shrugged. “I have normal torches, let’s use them”, he said simply as if that settled it. Knowing full well that it would fall to me to perform the arseny, I was yet not satisfied. “You think that’s enough? I can light the place up from one side only, given the guards. The fire will spread slowly and if the ogres smell trouble, then they’ll just get out.” Alfred gestured dismissal. “The man said it’s rotten and flammable.” But I was still uncertain. We knew there was a considerable number of ogres still alive. I wanted to maximize the casualties if were we to give up our element of surprise. “Is it even wise to give up our position by torching it, I-“, but I never got to finish when Alice snapped, her tone dripping frustration. “Just get the damn house on fire and we’ll continue in the mountain!” I turned to her and narrowed my eyes. So Garnet’s lapdog has some character, I thought. She had been quiet all the way from Magnimar, content with our progress undoubtedly. But I hated being pushed. She’d been force-fed to us in Magnimar, and she had been prodding us to leave ever since she had joined. But meeting her angry gaze, I realized this was something different. Was she nervous?

I opened my mouth to say something but decided it was not worth it. I turned around, took two lit torches from Alfred and returned out between the rocks.

The ogres outside were completely oblivious to my fireplay. I could have quite possibly sneaked to them and lighted their rags. Like Jakardros had promised, the underside of the barracks quickly caught fire and I disappeared from sight.

Hurrying, we pushed forward into the bowels of the mountain. We didn’t get far before we made contact with something. “Movement!” Alfred half-whispered, half-shouted. We halted in unison. “Stand down”, Jakardros told us and shook his head, “they’re just shocker lizards. There’s bound to be a colony of them before us.” The mercenary went wide-eyed. “A what?” Jakardros briefly told us that long time ago a pet lizard or two of some nameless ranger had fled into the caves, and multiplied. Something in their environment had turned them into shock lizards, making them electric and giving them the ability to shock anyone threatening with their tails. “They rarely venture from their caves, and generally are not hostile”, he added. “Lovely”, I muttered and we crept forward, letting the weird things size of a dog scuttle away from us.

The passage soon separarated into many and we found ourselves in the middle of their colony. The lizards had nowhere to retreat anymore. There were so many of them around us in the caverns that instead of scurrying away, they became warier. I saw piles of eggs lying here and there. “Don’t get too close to the nests, and don’t get between the females and the nests either”, Jakardros warned us softly as he took a careful step. Great, how the hell could I recognize a female, I cursed to myself, minding my steps. Our progress slowed to a crawl as everyone followed the old ranger and tried their best not to disturb the lizards. Ultimately Alfred sighed and came to the conclusion I had been pondering as well. “I can’t see a way out that doesn’t take us next to a nest”, he whispered aloud and looked around one final time. “It’s a fight or we find another route into the keep.”

Everybody looked around mimicking the sellsword – a humorous sight – and personally assessed the challenge. It was Harsk who came up with an idea. A really weird idea. That sort of idea that one always comes to regret. A type of idea that started one of the strangest trail of events I had ever seen in my young life.

“What if we flood the caverns”, he suggested.

My face formed a large what-question and I turned to the cleric to see whether he was serious or not. Alfred guffawed irritably like he always did.

Harsk was being serious. “I could try a spell, but we’d have to get out naturally”, the bearded holy man was explaining with a playful smile on an otherwise straight face. I started to form a question and opened my mouth to voice it but Alfred was first, guffawing. “You’d drown the shocker lizards?”

Harsk nodded. Alice was absentmindedly examining the blade of her scimitar I had seen burst with the energies of lightning. “I wonder what a massive amount of water would do to them and their electric skins”, she muttered aloud. Jakardros, Vale and Shalelu all made a kind of an collective shrug, so no-one was really objecting his idea. Jakardros in particular seemed at that point content in acting as our guide into the keep rather than taking command of the infiltration.

I was still too baffled to say anything. I closed my mouth. It was settled.

We turned at our heels and made our way back all the to the waterfall and out of it. Outside, we could see a plume of smoke rising over the outer wall. The old barracks had caught fire, it seemed, and was burning fiercely. The ogres were shouting and grunting, and based on the commotion there was know a much larger number of their kind at the inner yard. There was no turning back any more.

But the burning barracks offered Harsk a distraction he needed to perform his trick. He exited the cave last through the storming waters, got to a safe distance and turned to face the waterfall. Closing his eyes, he murmured a few words and gestured with his hand. The surface of the pond where the falling waters hit started to rise slowly first, then faster. It was like someone had placed a ten feet wide disc right beneath the surface. All the water flowed into the pond, but when the magically rising water reached the level of the cave mouth, majority of it started to pour into the hidden cave. Barrels of it fell every second but it was obvious too little to quickly fill the caverns.

Finally I willed myself to say something – the obvious. “It’ll take too long.”

Harsk furrowed, clearly displeased. “I don’t know what we’re aiming to achieve here”, I added the half-statement-half-question. I was coming to my senses, trying to think of a new plan now that the secret cavern passages had been denied to us. Alfred said something to Harsk, I didn’t hear what, and got an irritated response from Alice. She was anxious for us to advance.

Without consulting anyone and continuing his line of befuddling, reckless moves, Harsk suddenly lifted from the ground and started to hover towards the wall. “Harsk!” Alfred called at the dwarf, not angrily really but with the tone one uses to ask someone to wait up. Perplexed, I found myself unable to talk again. What was wrong with the dwarf, I wondered. Was someone playing tricks with the cleric’s head, just like at the Foxglove Mansion?

“I’m getting over that wall!” Harsk yelled back at us, completely unconcerned about the fact there was a band of murderous ogres at the other side. I prayed he wouldn’t hover over the wall close to the southern gate and reveal our position. But he didn’t – apparently he had that much sense left in him. Keeping his head under the edge, he flew along the wall north-east. Alfred took of running along the river that had lost a lot of its current. The rangers followed him. Alice shrugged, gestured and murmured something and took off hovering as well.

I just watched them all flying and sprinting behind the little hovering cleric. At the other side of the wall the fire grew hungrier, and the hooting and yelling of the ogres was mixed with cries of pain.

We’re all going to die today, I thought, took a firmer grip of the Carmine Avenger, and ran after them with Dûath.

**

Eventually, Harsk and Alice led us to the north-eastern corner of the wall which we were supposed to use originally. With the ogres, a more than a dozen or so, all concentrated on the burning barracks, we got over the broken wall and gate without been seen. We approached the keep house by house, staying behind storagerooms, a stable and a building according to Jakardros was the new barracks. Reaching the keep and scaling its 30-feet walls was child’s play. Our arseny proved to be a wonderful distraction, and I could even see ogres trying to get out of the small windows, ending up stuck and burning alive. The sight made me smile.

Up at the keep walls we were presented with options how to proceed. The walls themselves were too narrow for ogres to traverse, so we could safefully walk between towers and climb down from each if we wanted. Dropping down from the wall was an option – but we did not see any means to exit the roof, though Vale mentioned a door behind the main tower that would lead out of the roof. There was a large circular main tower at the center of the keep, and on its side, an even higher lookout tower. A dead ogre soldier was hung with a hook from its side as a warning, to either hinder any invaders or maintain the discipline of the ogres.

Deciding it was my time to show some ballsy initiative without asking anyone’s opinion, I leaped from the wall to the side of the lookout tower and pulled myself up. That drew a mutter of complaints from the dwarf who I knew was not nimble and acrobatic. Unless he was falling down and performing three-point landings, that is. Or magically flying. Dûath regarded me curiously, a surprisingly human expression, and leaped after me, easily making the ten feet high jump with his powerful hind-legs.

After everyone had got up to the top of the lookout tower, Jakardros went to a latch, opened it and told us what to expect beneath.

“The main tower beneath us has one floor and five rooms – we’ll enter a storage room, then move to a tribunal. There we’ll find doors to a map room and to a corridor that leads to the Commander’s quarters, a chapel and to another staircase.” I nodded seriously. “We can expect anything then.” That made Alfred guffaw. “We can expect a fight!”

**

We ascended the circling stone staircase down two levels. Equipped with my magical fingerless gloves I was at point with the sellsword. As the old ranger had promised, we found a door and I had a look through. The small storage room beyond was empty save for broken, upside down crates and other junk. The ogres had been there rummaging. We entered silently and gathered around the second door that we knew led to the tribunal – a conference room for the Black Arrow officers. In the glow of a few burning torches on the walls, I could see everyone tightening and becoming more concentrated, even the jolly sellsword was looking serious. I had a look through and grimaced.

At the other side, two ogre warriors, the lowest kind, were driving nails and hooks through dead human bodies and hanging them up to the ceiling. The conference table at the middle of the room was covered in blood and more dripped down from numerous carcasses already in place. They were chatting idly in their ugly language as they worked, like the atrocity they were performing was a chore to them. I clenched my teeth in anger and felt Dûath hiss and growl in sympathethic rage behind me. I let go of the wall and told them what I had seen between my teeth. Vale almost exploded in violence right there, and Jakardros simply told us to kill them without mercy. Alfred kicked in the door and the bloodshed began in earnest.

Alfred was first to enter, and Vale was determined not to miss the party. Our surprise attack was only halfly successful as both of the ogres quickly turned from their bloody work to meet our blades and arrows. The sellsword chose the closest ogre as his prey while the dark-skinned brute stormed across the room towards the other. For his efforts he received a head of a wooden club to his jaw, while Alfred in his excitement managed to hack an innocent chair into splinters. The ogre had bought itself a second by pushing it to a slide towards the fighter, but Alfred recovered and slammed the beast with his spiky shield with unbelieavable momentum, taking its feet beneath it. The pale-faced magus was right behind him with the cleric, and they expediently stabbed and slashed the helpless prone ogre to death. The ogre that had been insolent enough to hurt Vale badly succumbed to Jakardros’ and my arrows and died without making a sound.

The tribunal was taken within seconds and no alarm was made. Harsk helped Vale reposition his dislocated jaw and with his healing magic closed any remaining wounds.

I had to admire Jakardros’s resolve as he paced through the room without looking up at the numerous corpses nailed into the ceiling. Undoubtedly he knew every one of the dead but he remained stoic and concentrated and did not linger to mourn them. When he approached me, I was in the adjacent map room, biding my time as Harsk mended Vale.

“You might find something on Macharius here, or in the Commander’s notebook, if you’re lucky”, he added the last when he saw the mess the ogres had created. Everywhere in the map room were shredded papers, torn from books and folders. I knew paper was expensive and the amount the ogres had ruined was bewildering. Jakardros sighed when he took in what he was seeing. I could only imagine the practical value of maps and notes that had been drawn and prepared over the years, now destroyed. I found some random maps, describing secret routes in Viperwall and Riddleport, two Varisian cities whose names I knew, and Lurkwood, a forest in north-western Varisia I remembered seeing in my map of the region. But it would take me hours, days to search the mess of papers for any documents or notes regarding my missing twin brother.

But before that, we had a fight to finish. No-one didn’t consider our operation as an infiltration or a rescue mission anymore. The horrors the ogres had unleashed, the hung corpses being possibly only the introduction, was something that required bloodshed in equal measure. The shedding of ogre blood. And Lucrezia’s, I reminded myself, and for a passing moment my mind recalled Ilori’s dead boy on the stairwell in the clocktower in Magnimar.

There was a double wooden door leading out from the tribunal to the corridors outside. We gathered once more behind the mass. I looked that everyone was ready, pressed my palms on the door.

The corridor beyond was empty, eerily so. I couldn’t first hear a thing, but then my ears caught something approaching. Slow, determined steps, coming from the right, outside my field of vision. I had to let go but my picked up a voice of a woman calling for someone. She was just outside, banging with her fist on the door of the room Jakardros had informed was the chapel. She was talking in the language of the giants. Jakardros translated what she was saying in his low voice. She complaining to Jaagrath about massive amounts of water pouring into her chambers and of all the damage his underlings had done, the old ranger said, and the response boomed through the walls. Vale shivered when he heard the name and the voice of the ogre. “It’s the leader of the tribe”, he whispered to us. For all his bravado, courage and strength the immincence of facing the head of the ogre tribe made him pause. Alfred smiled at that. “Cut of the head and all that nonsense”, he said and winked to the brute. I was still contemplating the woman. “What kind of a woman could be running with the ogres”, I said aloud, but the answer was obvious of course. It was Lucrezia. It had to be. Kill first ask questions later, I mused to myself. It had worked well enough with Tsuto Kaijitsu.

“Let’s get this over with then”, Alfred stated matter-of-factly and kicked open the door beside him. Alice was next to him, brandishing her scimitar, and shouldered the other door open.

.... to be continued....

Got stuck with the incident at Fort Rannick, so instead of banging my head at Black Arrows' fort wall I spent a sleepless night and wrote down this piece on one of the handful of key moment's in Alpharius' past. This is completely original and does not describe events occurred in our current game but the idea of the chapter had brewed in my mind and I wanted to flesh this out so I could draw thoughts and ideas from it later.

Also, like always this can be found at the blog.

Enjoy.

--

28. SOMETHING HARD TO FORGET, AND PAINFUL TO REMEMBER

Nirmanthas

The day had come. The inevitable had occurred. We had been caught.

I stood there next to my chamber window, holding her close and her hands in mine, firmly, but not hurting her. Midnight wind blew in gently, making the colorless curtains sway. The window was already open, patiently waiting for me to make my departure like a servant holding open a door. She was not pleading me to stay, as she knew better. She was a smart one. But it didn't make things any easier, the opposite actually. Deep down we had both been waiting for this but the reality was nothing we could have expected. The few candles' light reflected from the tears she was shedding. Mine were closed. I was trying to take it all in for the last time - her scent, how her skin felt like, her breath on my chest.

Keeping my eyes shut, I tried to picture how she looked, so that I would remember. I let go of one of my hands and let my fingertips travel to and across her face. With them, I sculpted a copy of her features to my mind.

The long, delicate neck. The small, pointed tip of the jaw. The round cheeks and high cheekbones. The straight, well-defined royal nose. Skin the color of olive.

The small, a bit juggish ears she always embarrassedly hid behind her long, onyx dark hair but which I always sought when we made love. She might have disliked them, but when I pushed the curls aside, kissed her ears and the neck beneath them, the skin on her hips and thighs raised into goose bumps. She told me she wanted me and when her body trembled slightly in pleasure and anticipation, I believed her.

The mouth designed for only beautiful, wide smiles and full lips made for kissing that hid her slightly large, outward turning upper front teeth, an imperfection she loathed but I loved, for she hated laughing and revealing them publicly. But when we were together I made her laugh and she couldn't help herself. She said she loved me and when she laughed, I believed her.

I opened my eyes and met hers. Dark brown like mine, but anything like mine. I had looked only once, for too long, and fallen deep into those two glittering wells. Large beyond belief. Those two dark oceans that drowned men's souls and made them sing, fight, kill, die, and ramble. Many had fallen to them, I had heard, but apparently only I had made them smile and laugh.

The two reasons I had stayed behind. The two reasons and the bright, brave soul behind them, and the beauty, all them had made me pause - made me almost forget why I was running in the first place. I had been so stupid. I had not been me. But I had been so happy.

Before me her face was a combination of joy she had felt for the past months and the sorrow of losing everything but the memories. Drawing breath she pushed back the tears, laughed a bit even. She knew better. She was of nobility, a daughter of a backwater count, but a count nevertheless. I was nothing. A bounty hunter turned hunting instructor to her little brothers. An orphan and former slave, with no other family than one lost brother. Her type shouldn't spare a long glance at mine. But thank the gods she wasn't of her type.

Exactly six months ago her father had purchased my services for an indefinite span of time. A day later our eyes had crossed first during a feast for his father's honor. Gracelessly eavesdropping in a grove I had heard her speak and sing absentmindedly two days later. Three more days later I had ran into her alone within the castle corridors. The rest is, well, history.

She had such lust for life. She desired to be more than a noble's daughter, 'cattle to be sold' as she put it. She enraged her father by openly defying his will and turning away eager suitors from nearby lands in Nirmanthas. She felt she deserved more and wanted to choose her own path. I admired her so for it, for I felt the same way and could so easily relate. I felt a knot tightening in my stomach when I thought she wanted me of all things. I still do, though I don't want to remember for the pain it causes me.

She had a gentle, good heart. In that she was like her mother - it was said there were no hungry children in the Count's lands thanks to her mother the Countess. Her mother was brave and farseeing, and understanding of her first-born daughter. I was sure her mother knew of me and her, but she never told her husband - she knew who I was, a restless man riddled by his history who would eventually leave - but in her heart she gave us, or her daughter, the chance to love.

She was driven, like her father. But not aloof to his family, or quick to anger as her father would often do. Passionate rather, and confident. Another characteristic of hers I absolutely revered. Her father was not a bad man - far from it. But he was the Count, and he wanted the best for her daughter. A former slave would have never done.

"How long do you think before my father's guards get here?" Her voice was mellow and slightly nasal, making her sound younger than her nineteen years. A sound I would pay anything to hear again.

My answer was a whisper. "A few minutes. Depending on how fast Typhion runs across the keep to report what he had seen."

She lowered her gaze in regret and shook her head. "What business could father's own man-servant have had to you at this time of the night anyway?"

"I don't know", I sighed. "Maybe he woke up and felt like going to hunt at dawn, and wanted me to be prepared accordingly." I furrowed. "Maybe Typhion was here on his own business, spying on me. Us."

She said nothing but I could see tears stream down her cheeks again and her shoulders hunch in resignation. They were bare, as she had only covered herself with a white sheet, rolled it around her body. The linen was sheer, and did nothing to hide the form of her small breasts, slim waist and wide hips. She was not tall, only five feet and four inches or so, so when we stood she had to stand on her toes and reach out to kiss me. I always thought it was funny.

I was not laughing then. "You're so beautiful." I said simply, unable to let my eyes off her. Unable to run, while knowing perfectly well his father's guards would be soon storming in, with orders either to capture me or kill me on the spot.

I was awarded with a faint chuckle. "You sound just like the suitors", she murmured and laid her head to my chest. "But I know what I'm talking about - I've seen the inside", I replied, and brushed her hair gently.

My keen hearing picked up the steps of the house guards approaching my chamber. Typhion had been quick. The man-servant had caught us in the act, in my bed. The thrice-damned fool had just entered without my leave. Anger at the nosy man-servant mixed with desire to stab his eyes flared, momentarily overcoming my sorrow. I would have done anything to have one more day with her but I knew our time together was definite. A small part of me was amazed our secret had lasted as long as it had. Secrets had not been kept from my former master Horryn within his estates. Perhaps he had been ten times more paranoid and suspicious than the Count. At least he had had ten times the enemies.

After Typhion had peered across the room into my bed, found me there with her and vanished without a word, I had locked the door and barred it with a heavy wooden chest. We had both lapsed into a shock. Eventually I had got clothed, and packed whatever personal belongings I had in haste. My master-wraught longbow was down at the armory and beyond my reach, so I had only the two kukris I had carried all the way from Molthune.

Of course, I couldn't have cared less for any of my equipment. Above all I was not willing to let myself be taken prisoner - I had made a solemn promise to myself never to be caught again. For a fleeting moment of stupid regret I had entertained the thought of fighting the guards, her father even, and stealing her away, but that was something from a fairy tale. Death at her father's command would have been a valiant but ultimately empty, futile gesture. After recovering from the initial shock she had told me she didn't want my blood on her hands but she could live knowing I was somewhere out there, alive. In the end I was lost to her, as she was lost to me, now that our secret had been uncovered, so running into the night was my only option.

The guards arrived behind the door and ordered me to open it in the name of the Count. I took hold of her shoulders, and kissed her like I had never kissed her before. There was a kick at the door, then another. It would hold for a moment longer, I knew. "Are you not afraid of your father?" I asked as our lips parted. She just smiled like I was a lovable idiot. "He won't hurt her beloved princess. I'll just get a scolding. It's you we should be worried about." Something heavy slammed into the door. I could hear voices in the courtyard below my chamber as well - a few guards were smartly making sure I would not escape through the windows. I was in a hurry if I wanted to get out. Still, I lingered.

"I have done nothing to have earned your love", I uttered the admission like I had done several times before. I was a man-hunter and a killer who cared little of others. I had made that clear to her at the beginning. My story was sad and violent. I remembered her fingers examining and caressing the scars on my back, chest and face. Her astonishment and compassion when I had opened up and told her everything about my past - something I had not done to anyone. How she had wept when I had told her about the death of my family. I trembled as I realized how precious, how forgiving, how good she was.

"You have to go", she whispered, barely making a sound. I let go off her and climbed over the stone-tiled window edge. Taking a firm grip of the edge, I placed the tips of my feet into nooks on the rocky wall. She followed me and standing there at the window above me she looked so small. Moonlight shone into her deep, brown eyes and I resisted climbing back up and stealing one last passionate kiss. Clutching the pure white sheet around her figure with one hand, she lowered her other on mine. Another loud slam into the door made her flinch, and I heard the lock and hinges wail and give in.

"Will you find him?" She asked finally, still holding her hand on the back of mine. "I'll try", I replied, trying to flash a smile to overcome the tears. She opened her mouth to speak but didn't find the words. I could not linger. I heard the doors crash in and the frantic shouts of the house guards. "I love you Aurora", I told her for the last time and let go of the edge of the window

As I fell I heard her mellow voice call out to me. "Tell him he's an uncle".

I hit and slid down a wooden canopy and wet, thick grass beneath it softened the second drop, allowing me a graceful landing.

Then I ran and did not look back.

The group continues the righteous purge of the nasty critters at Graul Farmstead. After easily slaughtering a quite a few of the ogrekin, we started roll 1s, 2s and 3s like no tomorrow (Alice's player fumbled his attack at least six times during the session, no joke), which resulted in an all too exciting game..

Also, blog.

--

26. SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST

Graul Farmstead

Within his grand estates in Canorate, my former owner, Eximedes Horryn, second and hopefully last of his name, had three separate barracks for his retinue of assassins, bodyguards and gladiators - one for each group. My brother, Macharius, was part of his personal guard, so he slept in a different barracks to mine - being one of his very few dedicated man-hunters, I spent my nights with the assassins. Compared to most of the other killers, I was a jovial, out-spoken person, which is saying very much. I didn't really prefer their company, and they steered clear from me. Typically, there were a few present at a given time anyway, since our tasks took us around Canorate and Molthune on a regular basis. I was then so young that I was still being trained mostly, and hardly ever left the estates alone.

Nevertheless, when we were at the estates, I was never far from my twin brother.

It was hard for the other slaves to understand how important we were to each other. They couldn't simply relate. All of them had arrived alone, and no true connections to their pasts remained. It is in the human nature to bond with a group, to seek the shelter of a tribe or a pack when the alternative is to suffer and die alone. It was different with me and Macharius. We had always had each other to watch our backs, to share the hopes, the setbacks. The grief. The hate. As such, we didn't really bond with the others. Bar the gladiators, we spent time together with the guards and the other servants and slaves of course. We never however gave anyone the chance to earn our trust, to get under our skin. Horryn used our voluntary seclusion as leverage, being the bastard he was. He even told me once to my face that he'd throw my brother to the lions if I'd escape during a man-hunt. But of course I wouldn't have ever left my brother behind. We had our lifeline, Macharius at one end and myself at the other.

After Canorate I had never spoken with anyone about my brother.

After seven years, I had almost lost all hope of finding him. Almost.

Hearing a beaten, old ranger with an eye-patch calling me with his name felt as if someone was tugging at the lifeline, after all those years.

**

"What.. did you call me?" My voice fought to stay steady, before becoming cold as steel and I stepped forward to the black-bearded, tumble-haired ranger. He was still examining me as I approached slowly. "I thought you long gone, brother.." I pulled the hood from my head and was about to form a question when he frowned and shook his head lightly. I could feel the eyes of the others on us. Shahelu, who still held Jakardros on her lap, tilted her head, and followed our exchange with keen interest. "No.. I'm sorry", Jakardros started before he grinned, fighting the pain and getting up to a sitting position. "I thought you were someone else."

Thoughts begun to race inside my head. Hopes. Fears. My hands started to tremble. "Who did you think I was", I simply asked, controlling myself to my best ability. Shalelu was covering his stark naked body with her cloak, and he uttered a wordless thanks. "A brother", he turned his one good eye back to me, "a good man from two winters past." I couldn't believe it. "Two winters? What happened?" "He was with us for a few seasons, before leaving-" "Where?" I demanded, sounding too excited and regretting it immediately.

"I don't know." It was all he could say before the dark-skinned ranger came alive with a thrashing and a growl of a bear and I lost his attention. But I had enough information. For the first time I had something. He had seen my face and called me by my brother's name. That could not be a coincidence. But two winters ago? It could have been a decade for what it was worth. And he had been here in Varisia, all those years when I had scoured the lands around Lake Encarthan. I felt so stupid, so powerless. I wanted to hit something, but at the same time, I was elated.

I paced back to a corner to gather my thoughts and regain my composure as the other rangers woke up and our party covered them in cloaks and the hides of the ogrekin.

The dark-skinned man, called Vale Temros was a brute, easily my height but twenty pounds heavier and he could have been carved from a slab of metal. His bass timbre of his voice was like a thick oak bending in the wind. His body was blanketed with cuts and scars, and I would later come to understand why there were so many of them. He was a warrior to the core.

The third one we had saved was called Drake Windstrike, an auburn-haired young man who appeared to be least experienced of them. There was something familiar about him, about his facial features, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

Jakardros was their hunt leader and he briefly and numbly went over what had occurred in Fort Rannick. Ogres had indeed attacked the fort a good month ago, but the three and their brothers-in-arms had been away on a patrol when the assault had taken place. Upon their return, they had found ogres of Kreeg infesting their stronghold. He did not understand how the ogres could have seized the fort, since they had been beaten so easily in the past. Jakardros had led his men in an attempt to take back the fort, but it had failed and they had retreated in haste to the forest, only to run into an ambush of the Graul ogrekins. Many of his men had fallen, but in the end, the rest had been taken captive. Out of dozen or so of his party, only they remained.

From the back I tossed the suggestion. What if betrayal had been the means of the ogres - what if the rangers had had enemies within the walls? I told the remaining Black Arrows about Xanesha and her sibling, who possibly was Lucrezia, and how they seemed to work in the shadows, using middle-men and lackeys to advance their unknown, dark aims. Jakardros was doubtful, but did not dismiss the idea completely. The timings of the events - Lucrezia's disappearance from Turtleback Ferry, the attack against Fort Rannick - all fit too well together. Vale gazed at me with contempt. He clearly did not like me suggesting his friends had betrayed them. The auburn boy remained mute and unreadable.

We didn't have time to discuss the implications and other possibilities as Alfred was already urging us to move on to the main farmstead. More enemies were close and none of us was safe until they were put to the sword. Still unarmed and unequipped, the Black Arrow rangers chose to stay behind and watch the barn. Despite our keenness to cleanse the farmstead, I wasn't finished with them. As I walked out to the rain I stabbed a finger at Jakardros' chest. "We'll talk more about Macharius when I get back."

**

I volunteered to have a second, better look at the main house alone, before we'd barge in and announce our presence to our foes.

The windows of the two storey house were all barred by planks - if anyone lived there, they preferred the low light. At also enabled me to run across the yard without being tracked from the house over to what looked like the main entrance. I slipped my longbow over my shoulder and stretched by fingers. It was time to put to the test my fancy new fingerless leather gloves which I had bought in Magnimar without really thinking about it. Taking a position next to the door, I laid my palms across the wall made of birch and took a deep breath.

The wall facing me vanished and I could see and hear clearly within. I grinned, satisfied with myself and the gloves.

My grin quickly faded as I took in what I was seeing.. and smelling. A wave of foul stench poured over me and I had to fight back an urge to cough and vomit. I closed my eyes and held onto the wall firmly. The rot was still there but I was coping. Cursing silently in Elven I opened my eyes and had a second look inside.

It was a kitchen of sorts. Parts of humans were lying here and there. Blood, human blood I took it, was everywhere. A human skull, still with some slices of skin and hair sticking out of it, was lying on its side on a table. It had the jawbone connected, and it looked like it was screaming at me, telling me to get as far from there as possible. A partly-eaten corpse was on the table next to the skull, with two large meat-axes driven into it. I realized I was examining a half-finished dinner table. Revulsion and hate in equal measures made my skin prickle. I had to let my palms off the wall, and when I did so, the wall returned as if it had never disappeared in the first place.

The rain cleared my thoughts and I settled down. This was to be expected. The ate us, just like Rukus had said. Willing myself to focus, I walked right to a corner and had a quick peek around it. I saw no ogrekin, or nothing alive for that matter, only a terrace and some furniture made for creatures twice larger than a human. I was about to step on the terrace, but it dawned to me that everything looked like they hadn't been used in ages. A closer look at the floor planks revealed that they were rotten and at breaking point - a single step might crack them in half and gods knew what would happen then. Dismissing an entry via the terrace, I went back to see the other corner of the front of the building.

Another look into the building with the Gloves of Reconnaissance unveiled a social room of sorts. And the first glimpse of new enemies. Reflexively I almost pulled my hands of the well before remembering they couldn't see or hear me like I did them.

On the floor two smaller ogrekin were sitting cross-legged in their own s#!%, playing with long nails, corroded knives and sharp-looking pieces of wood. They were making blabbering noises, gurgling and laughing in a sick, weird way and for some reason I was reminded of human babies.

I would be happy to put them out of their misery, I thought.

I circled the house counter-clockwise and on the third corner, found a small storage room with my gloves and noted something shiny - a ring - among piles of junk and human arm bones that had been nailed to the walls like trophies. There was a pair of very small hands too, a child's, but I looked away, not wanting to examine them or think about what I had noticed. The ever-present glow where I gripped the Carmine Avenger flared ruby red in empathy. I saw no other ogrekin, so I turned to return to the others. No more scouting, I decided. It was time to kill the man-eating, filthy vermin.

**
We gathered around the main doors, Harsk, Alfred, Alice, Shalelu and me, and I gently pushed the doors open. The all too familiar stench of human rot blew out, and it was too much for Harsk who turned around and vomited his breakfast on the grass. Alice coughed violently, but did not give up the contents of her stomach. Alfred resisted like I had, but the dismay and abhorrence were easily readable on his face.

Two doors led further into the house from the kitchen. I had a glimpse through the walls with my gloves, and the one facing north led to a stairwell beneath, while the other leading west opened to a dining hall. Before Alfred, who was on the point, could push the door open, I lowered my hand on his and stopped him.

"It's a trap. There's a metal blade that will swing down from the ceiling and strike at you if you open the door." The sellsword grunted in irritation and surprise and stepped back from the door. "What do you suggest we do then?" He asked. I reached up to the corner of the door where my fingers found a small knob. I pushed the knob to another position and with a click the mechanism secured the blade in place. "It's off now.. or on", I flashed a smile as I lowered my hand. Alfred did not enjoy my humour, but being the reckless man he was, he pushed the door open. Nothing happened.

I told them of the two young ogrekin in the room to our north-east. We decided to leave them be for now, and push on. We'd throw away our element of surprise for something greater a threat.

We went through the dining hall as stealthily as possible, with Alfred at the lead, and me right behind him with Dûath. After the hall was a corridor leading south and west, and a stairwell upstairs. I checked the storage room I had seen from outside and grabbed the ring. As I was making my way out, Alfred was already going forward and pushed open a new door. He thought it was a door to the backyard, which I had falsely claimed based on my earlier scouting. Instead, it led to a bedroom from hell.

It was dark inside - only the grey light shone between planks that covered the windows. Thanks to my elven vision I could see perfectly well, and over Alfred's and Alice's shoulders across the corridor I saw them hunching in the in the darkest corners. Vile, rotten undead humans - Harsk had called them zombies. The closest had the time to react and turn around to face Alfred.

The sellsword wasted little time. With a roar of hatred he shield-bashed the slumbering zombie away from him. His momentum was so fierce that the undead creature flew across the room and slammed against the back wall and crashed down on some chairs. From somewhere deeper in the room a keening, high-pitched laughter welcomed the human fighter as if its source was applauding the Alfred's martial prowess.

I saw another zombie rise to its feet and begin approaching Alfred. I pointed at it with my free hand and commanded Dûath to slay the unnatural beast. From my feet he leaped and landed violently on the zombie, clawing it and making it lose its balance. Alice went in, and gasped in shock at what literally lied waiting for us. It was obese beyond words, a mountain of fat and dirty flesh that covered entirely a bed wide enough for two adult humans. It was just sitting there, leering at us. She - from its long, unkept hair and massive breasts I had to believe it was a woman ogrekin - held her hands in front of her and wriggled her meaty fingers and to licking her lips in hungry anticipation, as if compelling Alice to come closer so she could have a taste of her.

"Dear boys, we'll have fresh meat for supper!" She screeched in joy and the zombies became a bit more animated upon hearing her voice calling them.

"I'm no-one's food", Alice answered with a yell and introduced the she-monster to her magical scimitar. Powers of lightning buzzed and popped, fat burned and the b%##!-mother cried in agony. I was about to add to her plight with some fire magics of my own, but Harsk ruined my aim by charging past me into the dark bedroom and into the fray with what I knew by then had to be mama-brother of the Grauls. "Iomedae curse you, man-eater, DIE", the righteous little cleric declared as he swung down his longsword and cut deep. I put two arrows into the she-monster, and a third to the last surviving zombie that tried to get to Alfred. The fat ogrekin was quickly surrounded by our close-quarters combatants. In a vain attempt to defend herself, she tried to cast a spell at the sellsword, but the pale-faced magus struck her at the last second. For her effort, Alice got a smack to her face from a meaty fist that moved with quickness that surprised us all. Gaining some breathing ground, the mother-Graul casted mirror images of her filthy, ugly self and suddenly there were six of them against us. Trying to look at her felt as being drunk - which one of her was the true enemy?

Alfred approached the dilemma in his own way. "Aim to the center!" He screamed the order and vaulted into the bed beside the mirror-imaged Graul and started to whack and slam with his weapons. He was relentless and giving the monster no quarter, and after each hit one of the mirror images crashed into blinking fragments and disappeared. She had nowhere to go. I knew that within seconds, we would end the b$!$@ whose kin mutilated and ate people like us - a family that had no right to exist. Through the ever-present stench of blood and s!#@, the scent of vengeance at hand was sweet and sharp like that of fresh fruits. I let my exploding arrows communicate my contempt.

But smiting down the mother of the dark family was denied to us at the final moment. Utter, absolute darkness suddenly enveloped me and I heard Shalelu, who had remained back at the corridor, cry in pain. I tried to look back at her but saw nothing, only blackness. "Something is behind us! Shalelu, get back to me! Listen to my voice!" I warned the other and urged the elf, trying to make a constant noise for her to follow. "What evil sorcery is this", Harsk was bellowing, "she got away! She went through the floor!"

"Can you see anything?" I asked, yelling, feeling the wall beside me with my free hand, the other still clutching the Carmine Avenger. I couldn't see anything, not my hands, not the faint, blood-red glow of my longbow, nothing. I had never encountered anything like it. Then Shalelu bumped to me and I heard the woosh of a large weapon slashing down and she cried again.

"Yes I can", Alice responded to my call. "Someone is casting darkness, get away from its source!" I took, all too confidently, a couple of running steps forward, trying to remember what I had seen in the bedroom and after my fifth step the blanket was swept from my eyes and I emerged back into the dim light. Shalelu came right behind me, leaving bloody tracks on her wake. "It was another ogrekin, it completely surprised me", she managed between breaths. Her hair and back were covered in red.

The total, impenetrable darkness begun to cover more of the bedroom. I realized its source was walking towards us down the corridor - it was like a light from a lantern, but backwards - instead of lighting, it blanketed everything in black. I couldn't see Alice, Harsk nor Alfred, who were at the other side of the wall of black that grew and grew every second. I gritted my teeth, feeling helpless. During my travels I had seen a monk with a blind over his eyes fight a group of challengers, so I knew blind-fighting was possible, but I required a target I could see.

At the periphery of my vision I saw a door. A way out, possibly a route to get behind our assailant? As the darkness continued to sweep the room into its embrace I rushed to the door and pushed it open. F!&*. It was empty save a four inch thick layer of s$&$ that carpeted the entire small room. It was a lavatory, I realized to my disgust. I had managed to get some s&#@ on my boots. Cursing, almost vomiting, I stepped back and slammed the door close. I had to try something else then.

Harsk, putting his dark-vision to use, and Alice, fighting the darkness with magic of light were challenging the attacker head on. I could not see what was happening within but I heard metal hitting metal, Harsk bellowing an oath of battle and finally grunts of pain that did not belong to any of us. I blinked my eyes and the darkness that had almost consumed the entire room disappeared. I sighed in relief.

"It's running, get it and end it before it can escape", Harsk was hollering as the stomped after whatever had tried to get to us. Alice and Alfred were with him and I caught a glimpse in the corridor where the sellsword put down a ogrekin baby on the run with a single swipe of his battle-axe, as if as a quick afterthought. I sought Shalelu, who was still bleeding from her wounds. "Go! I'll heal myself", she commanded me with a grimace and started to pull out a wand of healing from her backpack. I nodded and went after the others with Dûath.

The tricky bastard had activated the door traps around the dining hall during its retreat and Alfred almost got his head chopped off. Harsk's and Alice's loud warnings however prevented it.

"It's in the corner room, where the little ones were staying", I informed them, my keen hearing picking out sounds as we were considering our options. "Are you sure", Alice asked me. I shrugged. "There's killing to be done, we go room by room", Alfred dismissed the discussion flatly and kicked in the door leading to the social room at the corner of the ground floor. But instead of the ogrekin with the darkness tricks we found the mother creature. It had somehow travelled across the house and was hovering a feet or two above ground. Seeing Alfred crack the door open, it yelled shrill profanities at us in a language I did not understand. Acting out of instinct I had the shot and took it, but my arrow missed by an inch as the monstrosity retreated further into the room. Alice went after her but stumbled into a drooling, thrashing ogrekin baby. Electricity crackled, lighting the interior for a short second and the small ogrekin fell to the floor lifeless. Alice stepped over its corpse, her eyes keenly on our primary target.

It was alone again, and this time we would not let it escape. Drawing and nocking another pair of arrows, I commanded my animal companion to attack the flying mountain of fat. Dûath bravely sprung into the room past the sellsword and the magus and charged to deal death with its claws and teeth. But the mother of evil had one last spell in store for us. Screaming quick words of casting, dark purple lights flashed once around my panther's head and I heard him moan and hiss. He stumbled before halting completely only ten feet of the leering ogrekin and seemed unsure what to do. "What is it", I called out to him while Alfred, Alice and Harsk used the distraction to their advantage and elbowed their way deeper into the social room and towards our prey.

Alone and surrounded, she had nothing against us. Alfred pounded her up and down on the floor with his axe and shield, while Alice stabbed her continuously with her scimitar and I shot fire arrows into her center mass. Even Harsk was furious, calling for his goddess' powers to cleanse the place. We gave no quarter, no mercy. Ogrekin blood splattered across the room, fat cooked and burned and she pleaded and cried in pain. How many people had pleaded for their lives as they had been prepared as dinner for her sick, twisted and incestuous family? How many rangers had they fed to that hulking spider in the barn? How many children had they killed and consumed over the years? The Carmine Avenger glowed a fierce ruby red in my grasp as I put arrow after arrow into her body. The sound of her dying screams was music to my ears.

My last arrow blew a sizeable chunk from her head and that brought an end to her cries of agony. There was only a smoking, bloody pile of foul meat in the corner of the room. I ran to my animal companion and gasped in shock when I saw his eyes. Over them I thought was a shroud of strange white substance, but it was not anything tangible. His eyes had turned completely white - into milky orbs. Dûath could not see. He whimpered and whined, finding me by scent only.

"Maybe the spell's power will wear out soon", I told him as I crouched next to him, attempting to reassure myself mostly since he could not understand what I was trying to tell him. Harsk put his hand upon my shoulder and I feared what he was about to say. I turned my head and saw him examining the panther with narrow eyes. "I am sorry Alpharius, but that will not wear off. He will need powerful restoration magics to overcome the spell." I grimaced, grief-stricken and surprised. "What? Can you restore his sight here?" I was pleading, but the cleric shook his head sadly. "Not now. Maybe later. It would be best if we could find a temple with individuals who have a better grasp of the required magical domain." I let out a humourless, coarse laughter. I was furious, and feeling so helpless. "How the Fall do you think we can find such individuals here in the middle of f+*%ing nowhere?" Harsk had no answer, so he just stepped back and looked away. Me lashing out to him was unjust, I realized, but I stayed silent and just patted and scratched Dûath. The fat b+$$% could have casted that spell against anyone of us. It could have been me standing there, unable to see.

"Let's move out", Alfred called us again, "there is still the one, probably the father of his family, to be killed." I rose to my feet and tucked Dûath by his collar make him to follow me.

**

We checked the upstairs first, but found no enemies and little of value there. The first floor was half a storage room with smashed wooden boxes, ruined furniture and cobweb. The other half was a dormitory for the ogrekin. Seven massive beds laid empty, covered with stained, never-cleaned linen, furs and hides made of human skin. Making some quick arithmetic in my head and I knew we had just one ogrekin left to take care of. It seemed Rukus did not know how to count.

Between two of the beds there was a small casket, unlocked. I checked its exterior and found no traps, so Alfred eagerly opened it and found a bag full of something metallic. He took a hold of it and pulled it up, and almost got his fingers severed by a trap hidden under the bag. And in the end, the bag contained only some silver and copper coins - not a treasure you'd want to sacrifice your hand for.

We got back down and headed towards the main doors and the kitchen. Harsk went out to seek out the rangers, but they had seen no-one exit the building. So the father of the accursed family still hid from us, beneath the building in the cellars. Vale was particularly twitchy, demanding us to find his weapons, a pair of axes. I was about to retort thornily that he was welcome to join us in our hunt but Harsk beat me to it, diplomatically promising him and the other rangers that we'd look for their equipment when we descended into the cellars, the last unsearched part of the farmstead.

The stairwell led down from the kitchen. Pitch-black darkness awaited us beneath, so Alfred lighted a torch and we headed down, one by one.

**

I had to walk carefully to support Dûath, who was struggling to traverse the steps. Luckily, the stairs were straight and quite short. First to reach the basement floor, Alfred found three doors, one leading north, one west and one south. The sellsword had a quick, nervous glance into the room beyond the northern door, but saw nothing and tried the southern door instead. The others followed him inside, while I took out my everburning torch that never went out, and had a personal look inside the northernmost room. I found more rotting corpses and skeletons of all sizes around two large woodenm blood-soaked tables. I did not even pay attention to the stench anymore. Seeing so much blood, so much death and decay, was wearing down on me, numbing my senses and mind. There had been so much pain and agony here that it felt like the walls and ceiling themselves were imbued with it. The sadism and bloodshed of my former master Horryn paled in comparison to the Graul family and to what they had accomplished.

I heard the others whisper in the other cellar, something about searching the junk and piles of ruined wood.

"Another doubledoor", Alfred hissed from the point and turned to face us. "Open it", Harsk responded abruptly, taking a firmer grip of his weapons. I heard nothing but our breathing. We were getting nervous, over-eager to find the last of the ogrekin, to have something to strike to release the tension. We wanted this nightmare to end. I saw sweat beads rolling down the pale-faced magus' forehead. Alfred nodded to us, feeling bold enough and pulled open the doors.

Nothing happened at first. Alfred stepped into something I believed was a corridor, Harsk right behind him. I was still at the back and couldn't see, but in the silence, even their whispers reached my ears.

"Alfred.." Harsk started, having the better vision, "watch out! The darkness creeps towards us!"

"What is that..", Alfred was saying dumbfounded. "Get back, step away from it!" Harsk responded with a yell. I shouted at Alice who was still at the door. "What's happening in there, magus?" Alice did not turn to face me. "There something.. a living tree, or a massive plant.. I can't see it.." Her scimitar flared with electricity as he started to cast a spell. Shalelu was next to her and nocked an arrow.

I didn't want to sit there a thumb up my arse so I tried and pushed open the third door in the stairwell's end, believing that to lead to the fight. Instead, I found an empty room. Bones littered the room, and they were full of claw and bitemarks, as if they had been sucked dry. Something screeched and I realized what or who exactly had left the marks on the bones.

From a dark corner a rat size of a small dog stepped carefully closer to me, curious of the fire of my torch. Its body was trembling in hunger and anticipation. Our eyes met and it grinned, revealing a set of sharp, green teeth. I cursed very audibly in Elvish and dropped the torch to my feet and used my free hand to draw an arrow from my quiver. I heard Harsk order Alfred to fall back. My first arrow burrowed into the rat and it let out a pained cry, drawing out two more similarly sized rats from their hiding places. Great, I thought as I stepped back to the corridor, limiting their space and possibilities to attack me. The first, wounded rat came at me teeth bared, and I tried to kick it but managed to present my leg so that it had a easy time of biting into it. I roared in pain and disgust and put another arrow into it and its friend, ending their miserable lives with two beautiful fireballs. Shalelu had heard my cursing and had moved behind me to offer support. She tried to shoot an arrow at the last rat, but missed. It was almost at biting distance to me when Alice, out of nowhere, scrambled past me and over the rat and dexterously cut it in half.

"I was taking care of them", I said to the magus, somewhat irritated at her intervention. Alice just snorted. "Yeah right, looks like it", and pointed at my bleeding leg with her crackling scimitar. I was about to retort when I saw Alfred and Harsk return to the cellar room and pull the doubledoors closed. Both were panting and wild-eyed.

"The last ogrekin is in there", Harsk started, "in a large space beyond a ten-feet wide corridor. But it has some kind of unnatural, living growth of weed, not unlike a tree, defending it." "It's huge, fifteen feet wide branches", Alfred added between breaths. "Can we lure it into the corridor, cramp it there?" Alice suggested. "I don't know if it can move", Harsk shrugged, "I didn't see any roots securing it onto the ground however."

I went to reclaim my everburning torch, and finding the third room secure, told my blind companion to wait there. Looking miserable, the panther just laid his head down on his paws and let out a whine.

"So what are we going to do", I asked them when I returned and pushed the torch between stones in the wall to provide us some illumination. Alfred looked around and was the one to answer. "We charge in and kill them both." I nocked two arrows into the string of the Carmine Avenger. "Lead the way."

**

The fight was a mess. The living tree of weed was something I had never seen before, but that did not disturb me. Little did anymore. It fought without a voice, the only thing making any sound were the slimy tendrils that wriggled and swayed like rapidly moving constrictor snakes. They grabbed Harsk and despite our and his efforts forcibly drew him into the jaw of the creature, and I thought the little cleric lost to us when he disappeared out of sight and into the plant's mouth. Alice managed to break his scimitar in the fight, and Alfred was brought low by the last ogrekin, an ugly f*@*er like every other of its family.

As I said, everything happened very fast. In the darkness of the cellars, I had a hard time seeing anything but the thrashing plant-monster. I put arrow after arrow into its form, burning it relentlessly but I wasn't doing enough harm. The situation was going to the gutter quick. With Harsk eaten and probably dead, Alfred unconscious and Alice without a weapon, my courage started to falter.

I don't know how it was possible but at the last second, Dûath came running from the cellar where I had left him. His eyes, gods, his eyes were the yellow of a feline predator and without a command, he scrambled and leapt at the ogrekin. Emboldened by the miracle, I took a deep breath, nocked an arrow and let it fly at the plant-monster.

It hit it in its midriff, if it had one, and exploded with such ferocity that it burned a massive, gaping hole and bled acid. The weed-tree fell down, its branches finally having ended their thrashing and from the hole in its center erupted a badly burned dwarf, gasping for air.

At the same time, the Alice had flanked the ogrekin despite being armed with a blade bent out of shape. The brute still had his nasty looking hook and tried an upwards swing against the magus. I don't know if Alice let him connect the hit, but as the tip of the hook touched her armored abdomen, a violent eruption of electrical energy spiraled from her armor to the hook and further across his body. The ogrekin spasmed, bellowed and burned, his hand still clutching Alice's armor. Three seconds later the energy was drained and the brute barreled to the ground, utterly dead. Alice let out a sigh and slumped next to him, exhausted. But we could take a moment and rest. The horrors of Graul Farmstead had been ridden from the face of Golarion.

**

Shalelu found a sizeable chest filled with human-sized weapons and collected those she suspected to belong to the remaining Black Arrows. I woke up Harsk and Alfred with Alice. The dwarf was covered in slime and acid, and was cursing the plant-monster for its insolence and voicing his prayers to his goddess in equal fervor.

Tired and worn, we ascended from the cellar of hell and into the grey daylight, where we were met by the Black Arrows. They were happy to get their weapons and equipment back - especially Vale, who laughed a bass grumble and kissed his battle-axe and hand-axe, which he introduced to us as Father's Peace and Mother's Love. Shalelu muttered something about men and their desire to name their weapons, to which Alice snorted.

They put on some clothing and their armor as well. Drake tried to remain apart but when he pulled on his leather armor, I saw a glimpse of a tattoo on his bare shoulder blade. My blood stirred and my hands instinctively traveled to the pommels of my gladii.

"A nice Sihedron star you have there on your back, auburn boy."