I know I was born in Taldor, but the enclave outside Triela is the only home I’ve ever known. I remember yearly trips to Oppara – not sure why my parents ever left, considering just how folks welcomed them . . . . Anyway, my parents moved there within the first year of my birth. They hunted, and I was supposed to learn. Well, . . . they caught plenty of food. History? Hah. Languages? Ha!! And don’t try to read my writing – you’ll just get a headache. When I used to ask them about why they did it, moving there, all they’d ever say was, “It was best for you, son.”
My closest friend, Ephren, was a joker, a clown, and a rascal. He always had some tricky plan to get stuff. I didn’t help him much with those plans, but I remember eating plenty of rolls swiped from the kitchens, or hams from the smokehouse. He even wrangled up some silver every once in a great while, and we’d sneak off to Triela’s little market instead of working the garden. Asked the brothers and sisters every crazy question he could, just to make a fuss. Lot of fun, he was. Haven’t seen him since midsummer, two years ago.
I’ve always loved magic – still do. I was about 11 years old when I saw my first real magic – weird, right? --; Ephren got hold of some “stick”. I found him out behind the barn waving the thing around, saying some weird word or another. All I saw was some faint, white flash, but I knew what it was. I wanted to try it out, but Ephren was having none of it. I haven’t mentioned that I have an amazing temper, have I? Well, let’s just say that me and Ephren weren’t close after that day – took six years, some heartbreak, and most of a barrel of ale to get things right between us again. I still have that wand, somewhere around here . . . .
Oooooooh. Hm.
I don’t even remember just how it all went down that day. I got a new trinket, lost a friend, and there was a meeting. My parents, all the priests, and a couple of bookish types from town. And just because he said I scared him. But after that, it was doctrine in the morning, magic in the afternoon, and evenings free. I took to it pretty well. I got the silent treatment about the meeting, just like why my parents moved.
I bet it’s got something to do with the fact that I don’t even need that wand. I can just cast that spell, all on my own. Learned what it was good for, too. But there’s something else, too. It was just a little bit before Ephren and I got straightened out -- I broke my arm falling out a second-story window to get away from an angry father in Triela. She was beautiful, okay? When I got back to the enclave, I expected a quick “confession” and a fast heal. But, nope. I didn’t get an “AAAAaaaaaaaaAAAAA” magic fix – I can use it, but it doesn’t work right on me. Just don’t understand why none of them would tell me what in the Nine Hells was going on. Still won’t.
So me and Easy Ephren got back to right after that – his girl left town just about the same time a town guardsman figured out I was seeing his daughter. And, while I was healing up, I learned something else – I’ve got a knack for medicine. Not sure why that took, when everything else didn’t, but I started helping out while I was on the mend. Got out of the doctrine classes half the time, started working with the healers the other half, still magic in the afternoons. So, for most of the past seven years, I’ve been wrapping broken ribs, stitching cuts, setting bones, making tinctures, and such. Even managed to meet lovers two and three that way. . . . Hey. Hey! I waited till they were out of the infirmary! Big difference between using advantage and taking advantage, okay?
Well, six months ago, some thing or another got the priesthood stirred up. Another meeting about Kairon, without Kairon. Are you noticing a trend? Full stop on medicine, magic, and doctrine. The only thing a steel blanket is really good for is sweating under. Well, it’ll stop pointy, slicy, bashy things pretty well, too. All day, every day, getting my head beat by Brother Skayne. When he finally said that I was barely more dangerous to others than I was to myself with all that metal, I was ordained faster than anybody else I’ve ever seen, given some instructions, handed a letter, and . . . .
And I had to get my robes! That fireblasted tailor!!! He charged me the full 6 crowns for that rig. And he had known for a week that they were about to confirm my priesthood. Well, it’s okay. I burned his brightly-painted, brand new sign on my way out of town. Stuck-up deathspawn.
. . . and here I am, on a boat headed upriver, for no other reason than they said “Go”, and I’ve got no idea what it’s really all about.
Excuse me while I go heave breakfast into the river . . . .
Kairon Daaltin
Male human cleric of Sarenrae 1
NG Medium humanoid (human)
Init +1; Senses Perception +2
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Defense
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AC 11, touch 11, flat-footed 10
hp 10 (1d8+2)
Fort +4, Ref +1, Will +4
Defensive abilities SR 6
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft. (20 ft. in armor)
Melee scimitar +3 (1d6+3/18-20) or
. . morningstar +3 (1d8+3) or
. . longspear +3 (1d8+4)
Ranged fire bolt +1 rng tch (1d6 fire) (5/day)
Special Attacks channel positive energy 5/day (DC 12, 1d6)
. . disrupt undead 1/day (ranged touch, 1d6 vs undead, CL 1st)
Domain Spell-Like Abilities (CL 1st; concentration +3)
. . 5/day - fire bolt 5/day (30' rng tch, +1, 1d6+1/2 level fire damage)
. . 5/day – blessed surgery 5/day (free action, roll twice on Heal check, take higher result; Heal checks requiring 1 hour or less take 1 minute)
Cleric Spells Prepared (CL 1st; concentration +3)
. . 1st (2+d) — divine favor, shield of faith, burning hands [D]
. . 0 (3) (at will) -- light, create water, spark
. . D Domain spell; Domains Fire, Medicine
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Statistics
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Str 16, Dex 13, Con 14, Int 9, Wis 15, Cha 15
BAB +0; CMB +3; CMD 14
Feats Accursed, Combat Reflexes
Traits fiend blood (Intimidate), magical talent (disrupt undead)
Drawback Provincial (-2 to Diplomacy/Sense Motive vs differing religion/alignment)
Skills Heal +6, Intimidate +7, Spellcraft +3
Languages Common
SQ spell resistance 6
Other Gear scale mail, heavy steel shield, scimitar, morningstar, longspear, healer’s kit (6 uses), backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, waterskin (2), trail rations (5), chalk, iron holy symbol of Sarenrae, copy of The Birth of Light and Truth previously owned by Nuthor Calene, wand of disrupt undead (CL 1, 11 charges), wand of cure light wounds (CL 3, 5 charges) 1 gp, 8 sp, 9 cp
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Fire Bolt (5/day) (Su) 30', ranged touch, 1d6+1/2 level fire damage
Blessed Surgery (5/day) (Su) As a free action while using the Heal skill, you may roll twice and take the higher result; Heal checks requiring 1 hour instead require 1 minute at most.
Cleric Channel Positive Energy 1d6 (5/day, DC 12) (Su) Positive energy heals the living and harms the undead; negative has the reverse effect.
Spontaneous Casting You may convert a prepared spell slot to a cure spell of equal or lower level.
Day One -- New in Town
Finally offa that boat, thank Sarenrae. Three days of barely keeping any food down, and too sick to m' stomach to pray for very long. It's a good thing nobody needed my help.
Even better, though, is having solid ground under my feet again.
I'm hungry.
Saw a younger feller lightin' pipes with fire from his finger as we hit the dock -- hair as red as torchlight. Doubt he can stay outta sight! He might not know it, but the Dawnflower's got something in store for him . . . .
Scipio. Paladin. Born to money. Seems alright, if a bit too wrapped up in rule of law. I was so tired from the road that I can't remember anything the bishop said -- out on my feet, I was. But I was told "Go with him," and so I did. Home, the enclave, now the temple: seems a lot of folks are keen on tellin' me what I oughtta be doin'. I'm trying not to hold it against 'im, Scipio draggin' me onto that boat.
As soon as I find a good enough curse for boat-riding, I'm gonna make a note of it. Nothing quite seems to fit it. Horrible.
And Goruck. "of the Stone", he adds. Knock 'im down, he'll make a good foundation for a real big house. Real big. Talks little. Deep thinker, though, I guess -- lot of what he says sounds like it's supposed to be a maxim or adage, but I can't figure my way around it to understand. I do know, though, that he's good with a blade, and he's supposed to guard me and Scip, both.
Day One. Later.
Cimma-nun flapjacks. Best thing I've ever tasted. Only good part of the welcome so far.
Payden Teedum. And gang. "Who's in charge" and "need ta know" and "this is how it is, 'cause I said so," and all that. Never seen a room so full of people so scared of one guy, before. Well, maybe that one time.
He's got it comin', though. Fear ain't no way to deal with neighbors. Fear is the companion of the evildoer, and his tool. I figure ol' Teedum's got some stuff to answer for, 'fore long.
Woulda lost the best meal I've had in days if I'd said what I wanted to.
Meetin' a few new faces.
Halfling at the bar done chewed through three plates o' these flapjacks. Can't blame him, they're so good, but how he holds it all, I don't think I wanna know. Bet the physicians back home 'd have a fit if they could examine him . . . . He seems a bit out of place, though -- lotsa people are treatin' 'im like he's new in town. Didn't see him on the boat, though, and somebody'd know if he came in on a road, right? Hmmmm.
Young face, and hair whiter than any elder's I've seen. Strange. "Chillel", she calls herself. "Chill". The snow musta stuck. I like her pet owl, though.
And speakin' of pets! Cat big as me strolls into the restaurant, and nobody flicks an eyelash. Baradim, his master, is a happy sort, I think, but still sensible. Offered his help. That's a better thing.
Turns out that fiery-headed youth is called "Dolok", and I like him! Mouthed off to Teedum faster'n you'd think. Smart enough to run off, too -- brute sent his thugs after 'im quick as a blink.
I really don't like that guy.
'N now we got this teenage gal hollerin' for us to move out . . . . I just hope I can get a bed and a decent meal before day's out.
Day One. Even Later.
Blackscour. Never heard of it. It's bad, though -- got this whole town scared. Sick, too.
"Lady" Cirthana. Fair good-looker. Got a sternness to 'er. First impressions, though . . . . Dunno what it is, yet, but somethin' 'bout her strikes me suspishus. And still more rushing about.
"Gavel" Kreed. All axe bit, no hearth fire. No wonder he's got somebody like Teedum bullyin' folks. Can't see the health of the people that get 'im the gold and the timber he wants so much of. How important it is. And he all but threatened Dolok with the blacksmith's life. I ain't smart, but I can read something that plain no trouble.
Gonna haveta check in on Figueroa again in the morning -- I helped ease 'im a bit, but I won't know how well till then. Dolok seems fit to burn 'imself to cinders, he's so worried.
Never seen a book so big in my life! Got the 'pothecary's attention with some medicinal work 'o my own, and she seemed pretty helpful. We're sittin' here flipping through this beast of a tome, lookin' for a clue . . . . And this handwritin's as confusin' as mine! I'm gettin' a headache . . . .
Better go get m' prayers in, 'fore I got a sunburn, too . . . .
Night One. Cutter's Camp.
Prayed. No sunburn. Patient, She is.
Spent most of my money getting a secondhand copy of Birth from the temple. I get enough time, gonna read up on Brother Calene's notes. Left my own at home, since I had to leave in such a rush. Hope She scorches that thief on his nethers for a month!
Me, Scip, Goruck, Baradim, Chillel, Dolok, and Illiam -- halfling "Devourer of Flapjacks" -- are sprawled around around a fire with Ardan. He just gave me a wand o' healin'. Wow.
Gave too much credit to Kreed -- his workers ain't as rotten as him, so far. I was 'spectin' all of 'em to be a pack of gold-sick scoundrels. Not so. Trookshavits and Ardan seem ta be quality folk. Makes it easier to not be so mad about gettin' rushed outta town -- and a real bed!! -- to track down the stuff we need.
They translated a passage from Laurel's book that gave us a "recipe" for a cure. Odd list of ingredients. We had a scare we'd need thousands of silvers to make holy water, but, turns out we just need it purified -- an' that's a relief. Elderwood moss, pickled rat-tail root, and ironbloom mushrooms -- those are the three we're out here to find. Strange curatives.
Book also said to burn the dead. Vamros Harg, the magistrate, would have none of that. Sparred with Cirthana 'bout "Laurel's dead mother's book", and only allowed one exhumation. But wouldn't let us do anything but dig and look.
A widow, dead for . . . five days, I think? Somebody'd purposefully come to her grave from the woods, stayed a bit, and gone back. Not sure what to make of that. Her eyes were open.
Biggest question of the day: why didn't Cirthana want us to notify Kreed of what we'd learned?
Day Two. The Hut.
First fight today. We nearly killed a hobgob for no reason. He gave up after I called on him to surrender. Good thing. Not sure how I'd'a felt if we'd done 'im in. Or what She'd think. Too close.
Not too happy about his huntin' style. Little firefoot's legs are broke, and lost a lotta blood. "Animal sound" gets better targets? He needs a . . . tool for that, or something. Got a real problem with usin' hurt to get what ya want.
But, then, we stabbed, cut, and burned Grung 'cause we wanted . . . . What *did* we want??
He's a stout one, Grung. Took a lot o' punishment real quick, and was still standin'. Goruck near cut 'im in two. Gonna take quite a lot to mend 'im.
Turns out he's made camp in a hut that at least usedta be the witch's. Seems she's got a poor rep with some, not so bad with others. But she ain't where we thought she'd be. Bit of a setback.
Time ta sleep.
Just heard some wolves howling . . . .
Day Three. The Hut.
Illiam ran off some wolves in the middle of our watch. Made a buncha soldiers appear, marching out of the hut. No sound at all, and too many to fit in that little shack, but it convinced the wolves, reckon!
Chillel reminded me of something after the morning meal. Shoulda remembered it, but I guess it just didn't make sense to me till after meeting Kreed -- that . . . that . . . sumb@!#+ . . . . That . . . infidel won't repair the contaminated well!
He's got the money. He runs the town! If he'd'a set Teedum and his goons to good work, rather than scarin' folk, they coulda made a difference by now. I know nothin' 'bout injyneerin', but if he ain't made an effort to fix it in over a month, . . . .
Scip says he'd "take me down" if I kill him. We'll see, maybe.
So uptight about "law". Gotta break it, sometimes, to get the most good done. Heh. Outlawed priest of Sarenrae, hidin' out inna woods with a kicked-out hobgob, runnin' from his brother-in-arms . . . . 'N all 'cause I'm just about sure I'm gonna wind up confrontin' Kreed . . . .
Might not come down to me killin' 'im, but he needs to be got rid of. Plan time.
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Day Three. Trail.
I think we found Milon Rhoddam. Wyvern got 'im, 'ccordin' to Baradim and Grung. Hawk's feathers scattered all over the place, too. Too bad.
Good news, though, is that he had a map on 'im that puts the witch's hut farther west of the old woods, and kinda on our way to the monastery! Can only hope it's accurate, 'cause we found nothing at the one Grung's been stayin' in.
Wonder how many days Figueroa had symptoms. Or the miller, and his family . . . . Did I buy any of 'em any more time? Or will we make it back after they're already dead? Dawn's mercy! . . . . How long was that line outside Laurel's?
Dunno if burnin' the dead was completely called for, or not, but what if we get back and all those that died from it are dead but walking? How many more'll die before anyone does what shoulda been done? Not that it'd matter then . . . . Think those jacks'll turn their axes against dead relatives trying to chew their faces off?
Too much c'n still go wrong . . . .
Day Three. Later. Far side o' the Taggoret.
Got to learn a spell can make a bridge over water. Or learn to fly, one. Raftin', boatin', sailin' . . . . They can keep it! Still wipin' my mouth and spittin'.
'T's probly why I couldn't burn down those bugs came at us on the crossing. Illiam said something about 'em drinkin' blood! What 'n the Nine Hells *does* that? But him and Baradim pretty much fixed 'em. No bites.
Grung stayed behind, even after those wolves just 'bout killed him. One of 'em was big as a horse! We finished 'em, though. I even got a few good hits in, after Ill' tripped 'em up. Ain't seen him really step up in a fight yet, but he's made a few of 'em a lot easier . . . .
Gave Grung a little healing before we left him behind. He was still hurt from the thumpin' we gave 'im yesterday, and he near died again. 'M supposed to tend the hurt -- twice so when I'm at fault! Don't like leavin' 'im in that shape. Couldn't make him come along, though . . . . Watch him, Bright One.
Path looks clearer here, and Baradim says we ain't far from the best place to look for the elderwood moss.
Best get to it.
Night Three. Eldest Tree.
That was close.
Tat-zill-worms. Tazzle-worms. Bah, whatever.
Ill' and Chill' -- Heh. A healer's life! -- tried talking to 'em at first, but that didn't work. They jumped at us from outta the trees. Illiam fooled one of 'em with some kinda . . . shift -- Poof! Not there, here! --, and it faceplanted on the turf and got beat t' death quick. Another one tackled Goruck, even though the big guy cut 'im good on the way down, and knocked 'im out at one go -- near killed him. The third jumped down and got coiled 'round Baradim, started clawing his guts out. 'N mosta that happened in about six seconds. Never seen anything happen that fast before!
I ain't said nothin, yet, but Illiam backed out quick-like. Did near to nothin' while the rest of us were in the mix. Looked set to run through the wolf-infested woods to try to find someplace else to be. If not for a lucky angle and Baradim makin' Kanga, his cat, go after the one what dropped Goruck, little man mighta been breakfast for something. Really don't like how easy he found it to be out of the fray; hard to trust somebody who won't go to the same hazard as you when you're after the same thing . . . .
Sure, he said he was outta "tricks" -- so what? Dawnflower only gives me so much grace each day; doesn't mean I can't do something when it all goes wrong . . . . I got armor, and a spear . . . shield and scimitar, it gets close-in, . . . , so I can push that line a bit more than him, probly, . . . . Fer somebody knows so much, I'm not sure he realizes how much he c'n do when he ain't got no magic left . . . . We'll see how he does with the witch, and whatever's up at the monastery.
Bodyguard down, Baradim tangled up, and one o' those things loose and able to go after any of us. How d'ya pick the right path at a time like that? I'm a healer by trade, priest by devotion, . . . but a warrior, too . . . . Not sure I did the best thing, going after the one Scipio did. It worked out good, but . . . .
Like the fight with the wolves at the river -- Grung, still hurt, got tripped up by one of 'em, and then they got 'im again when he tried to get back up. Wouldn't that have happened to Goruck, too, if I'd healed him right then?
Tried to get 'em to talk about it, but nobody said anything . . . . Why not?
But we got the moss, and a buncha loot from out the nest -- coin, healing potions, even some magic oil for weapons 'n' such. Goruck and Baradim are resting pretty well, and I've done just 'bout all I can for 'em tonight . . . .
One down. Two to go.
Day Four. Morning. Eldest Tree.
Near punched Dolok when he woke me for my watch. Bad dream. Real bad.
I don't like it here. Baradim talkin' 'bout how peaceful it is, 'n'everything, well if that's so, how come ev'rybody's talking about scary dreams they had? Well, 'xcept me and Illiam. Pretty sure he had one, too -- and bothered by it: he asked Baradim if he'd had any dreams lately, right after Baradim told us about the one 'e had last night! Musta put the little man off -- like mine did.
Seems they 'us all about killing what you loved, or not bein' able to fix what yer s'pose to, . . . stuff like that. Dyin' by your own good intentions . . . . I hate riddles.
What's even more creepy is this -- Ill' 'n' Chill' said it was magic that did it. I thought it didn't work on me? It was real strong, they said; guess that means I'm only cut off from the weaker stuff.
Hmmmm. Wonder what that says about Brother Fergus -- he was the one what had to fix my leg that one time . . . .
Witch and monastery to go. I'm expectin' a lotta fightin' today.
Day Four. Afternoon. The . . . Hut.
Chair made outta tusks and teeth. Ugly-lookin' pot in th' middle o' the room. Scarecrow-lookin' body in the chair.
No witch.
Good thing, too. Pretty sure I'd have a problem with sumbody calls a place like this "home". Or "work". Or anythin' comfortable and familiar.
Too bad we broke down her door gettin' inside. Storm was gettin' worse, and we're wearing a lotta metal, some of us. Don't want more trouble than we've got already . . . . Well . . . I didn't till I got inside, reckon. Not sure if I'd prefer here or that blasted tree -- so . . . wrong in here, feels like my guts wanta climb out and run away on their own.
Looks like there's a jar on that shelf yonder what has summa what we're lookin' for -- pickled rat-tail root. But we can only read bits and pieces of the label. And Illiam thinks that pot's gonna come after us when 'e grabs the jar . . . .
'Bout to find out.
__________
Later.
Well. That was a mess. The . . . "cauldron" . . . Yeah, that's the word . . . had a couple somebodies in it, rotted to soup and bone. We only found that out after we bashed it to bits; it never had a chance to get to any of us, what with Illiam's magic. He's been usin' that one a lot -- brutally effective. Hard to be in a fight, ya can't stand up; much less win it.
Jar was the stuff, though. Two down, one to go. Half a day's walk to the monastery, find the mushrooms, . . . and then another Hells-sent boat ride.
How many townsfolk left alive?
Day Four. Monastery.
Too quick. Too easy. "Got more than enough".
Couple dark-mannuls, more wolfy things, and -- hey! -- patch o' mushrooms. "Time to go!", they say.
Fine.
I think we're gonna pay for our haste.
Night Four. Thrice-damned boat.
I took the prow. Only way I can really keep m'self together. And it's worse, the smaller the boat, it seems.
Sunlight and solid ground. Settle for the solid ground, right now.
Been tryin' to figure out what to do about Kreed, and nuthin's come to mind. I know Scipio and Goruck won't back me on it, almost certainly. Dolok hates 'im, though, and Chillel . . . . She may not hate 'im, but I get the feelin' she'd be more than okay with Kreed bein' outta the picture. Don't think Illiam'd care much. Baradim don't seem the sort t' want to be part of somethin' like that . . . . Though his dream may mean he's like ta stand in Kreed's way . . . .
Send me your light, Dawnflower. I cannot see the way ahead clearly. Shield me from the dark; turn my hand to strike the blow I should. I cannot protect these people; I fear your wrath must be manifested, to drive away the evil, and bring them solace. A blow must be struck, before your aegis can ward them. Show me the way.
The fightin' . . . . I love it. I c'n feel Her fire in my bones, and Her light in my heart. I'm angry. 'N I'm not sure how much of it is me, and how much is Her. I want to bring evil to ruin -- strike at its heart. Keep it from spreadin'. Just like an infection. Just like rot.
Like Kreed.
His jacks'll cut till there's no more to cut, 'cause he pays 'em. An' that's the nicest way to put it, I'm sure. From the town to the foot of the mountains -- no more forest.
Maybe that's what Baradim's dream was all about. We help the town, as is, and the forest dies. To save one, change one.
Killin' the town'd do it. Stop it at the source.
Maybe Kreed wants toadys 'cause he's a toady for someone else, but he's the arm holdin' all the axes. Swap hands? Hard to grow an arm's been cut off . . . . May come t' that, though.
We ain't really fought any evil, yet. Sure, some o' them wolf-things seemed t' like causin' hurt t' others, based on what Ill', Chill', and Baradim have said, . . . . But I doubt they can help what they are. Folks got choice. 'N from what I c'n tell, Kreed's abused his -- gold, above the people in his charge. That's evil.
Don't care how Scipio tries to justify that.
Night Four. Town. Laurel's.
I knew it!!
The place is trashed, and we've got no sign of Laurel, yet. The whole problem has been here, all along.
And now Scipio's gone. I understand why, but the timing couldn't have been worse.
Night Five. Town. Jakk's.
Laurel's been arrested. Conspiracy charges -- like she made the outbreak happen, just to line her coffers! When else is a healer gonna make higher profits than normal than when most of the town is sick? Just a distraction, I bet -- Kreed tryin' to look like he's doin' sum'thin. We're gonna get 'er out, though.
Been a long night and day, what with makin' the tea and gettin' it to the townsfolk. Got it started solid with less trouble'n I expected. Figured Teedum and his thugs'd try t' stop us, but we mighta just been lucky. Or blessed, by Somebody, more like. Lotta locals pitchin' in.
And I was wrong about Cirthana. Really wrong. Was ready to fight 'er when she rushed me -- but then she hugged me. An' she forgave me when I 'fessed up . . . . May still be somethin' there I'm missin', but it's hard to see. Maybe I just hold her faith against her without really meanin' to.
Got to get some sleep.
Night . . . some one or another. Monastery. Again.
Seems I was right. We're back up here, and got more trouble t' deal with.
Kimi and a buncha Hollow kids went campin' at the old burned-out orphanage. Got took by kobolds, and Illiam picked up the trail. Dunno how, but 'e did; fillin' in for Baradim pretty well, so far, on that point. We had to raft across the river again -- Sun blast it! --, and the trail took us right back here.
We captured a kobold, calls hisself Gurtlekrep, and he told us about the sacrifice the kobold shaman was plannin'. We can't finish this soon enough.
Found a secret jail fulla skellies, and we cleared it out so we'd have a place to rest. Good thing, too.
Ain't been keepin' up with this like I should. It's a shame, too. Probably try to get it all written out better after we save the kids.
So many bits and pieces to tie together . . . .
Sandpoint, Varisia.
Been a long, long time since I picked up pen 'n' ink to add to this. So much been happenin' on my road . . . . But, seems I found a home-y place to stay in fer a while.
Been trackin' down any word of Blackscour outbreaks, and it's lead me here -- away west and north of home, all the way to the coast. Haven't been in touch with any of the church's clergy in nigh on two years, now. Suits me jus' fine. . . . . Well, there's a few fellow believers here, but they ain't as . . . stuffshirt as the ones in Almas.
Town's been havin' goblin troubles -- there was a big raid the night I showed up in town! A few of us out-o'-towners stepped up and helped, since the guard was spread so thin. We did good work.
Geara -- strange fightin' style with that sword like Goruck's. She's got a good heart, though. Supposed t' have fairy-skull piercings on her . . . uh . . . under her breastplate. Wild!
Hans -- he's just got a strange blade, period. Got a chunk o' hilt, and he can make a silver blade o' pure magic! Seems he's lookin' t' find his balance 'er sum'thin' -- he ain't the most accurate fighter I seen. Sure tries hard, though.
Lina -- good with a bow, good in the woods. Li'l bit of an odd sort, though . . . .
Apothica -- I don' care how gorgeous she is: you can smell the crazy on her. An' that's *before* ya hear her scream folks' faces off . . . . No. Literally.
Marco -- Another dhampir. Dodgy kinda guy, but he's interested in goings-on. Been a good help the last couple days.
Anyhow, more later.