"Get up Trezlan." Aunt Corli was not the nicest person to wake up to in the morning, her voice combined with the impatient manner in which she was speaking was sub optimal.
"No more training I'm so tired of stabbing training dummies," My training had been going on for months now, everyday I'd wake up Linsk would show me the myriad of ways I'd die for failing to make my move properly and then I'd try again. It was odd, I was training to fight monsters, but Linsk seemed intent on showing me how to defeat people (this would come in handy later, but at the time I recall wondering exactly why I was being trained to kill people, well other then the obvious).
"Get your shit, trainings over you're going on a job," Aunt Corli walked outside and I fumbled with my gear. My room was one of the smaller ones on the first floor of the "inn", it had a small bed stuffed with hay, a little closet (thankfully not big enough for someone to watch me in well aside from a shorty sneaky bastards) where I kept my gear, and a nightstand with an oil lamp on it. My gear consisted of the same hide type armor I'd seen my Aunt wearing, though I'd augmented it with a lighter interior clothing element to cut down on chafing (I chafe easy). I had a pair of swords (everyone in the guild wore at least two weapons, one it looked awesome, two you frequently lost one to a rampaging beast or so I was told), both were arranged so I could grab them with my left hand (despite Linsk yelling at me, I'm still a left handed swordsman it feels right) one was a long thin sword used for dealing with enemies at a distance, and the other was a shorter broader blade for up close work and skinning should the need arise.
I dressed myself in the armor and attached my sheaths and swords hastily running out of my room as I finished buckling my belt, my Aunt was outside the door and barked "Move Move Move" at me. I made my way down the hallway to the outside courtyard where the rest of the guild was assembled. The older vets smiled at me, the kind of "welcome to the team" that my Aunt's group was known for (she put up with a lot, but could not stand any kind of intergroup rivalry). There were six hunters assembeled with me awaiting orders from Corli.
"Ok guys its been a bit since we've had a job and I apologize for the downtime," I'd missed jobs earlier, but it had been over a month since I'd seen them move out, I was starting to worry Corli had suffered some hidden slight from rescuing me, "That's over now, we got a job and it won't be pretty, looks like a pack of Goli is in the area and they have decided local village inhabitants make a good snack, our job is to dissuade them from this idea, understood? Mount up lets get this done." Goli were pack hunters (normally six to nine in a pack), they are spider creatures that tend to wrap up and slowly digest victims as a pack (not as well known to non hunters, typical procedure is to burn the bodies so as to not have their loved ones aware of what happened in the end, well we also burn them because they tend to incubate new goli in the dead bodies, yeah as if being slowly eaten was not insult enough). Normally they are mountain based, but recent mining operations burning them out of caves has forced them to hunt easier prey (once again we create the problems through greed, a lesson that will never be learned, because honestly greed is awesome).
I mounted with the rest and we followed Corli out of base camp, Sal waited at the gate and in something that I would see many times later wished every passing hunter good luck and to come back safe. Corli always lead it seemed, I asked one of the other hunters where we were going and he said he didn't know, and that was standard. She wouldn't want someone showing up in advance and trying to get all the glory and dying (it made sense, guilders were mostly glory hounds who loved the attention). The journey was mostly boring, a couple days ride north we crossed the border into Red Hand lands. A day after that we were approaching the town that I could only assume called for our help when Corli held up a hand and we stopped, the simple joking and talking that had been going on amongst the men stopped with her hand.
"Something seem wrong to any of you?" I was in the rear of the group so I couldn't see what was ahead, but Corli obviously saw something she didn't like.
"I can't see anyone on the streets." Tormino one of my aunts more long term guilders spoke up when no one else said anything.
"You know I've been mulling it over on the ride here, how often do we know an attack is a goli one?" Corli hopped down off her horse and withdrew a telescope to make out the town better from a distance.
"Never normally, people just point out that they've gone missing and get scared, Goli attack during the night and..."
"And the only ones who know they are there are being eaten," Corli spit, "I knew that guy seemed sketchy, dismount boys this is a god damn ambush."
"Who's ambushing us?" I was a bit afraid we were in Red Hand territory, and thought for a moment perhaps they would get revenge for shabastard.
"Hard to tell Trez, Ok boys lets approach this quietly cover formation, Trezlan stay with the horses." A command I would unfortunately grow very used to.
"I can fight Aunt Corli!"
"I know you can Trez, but I need someone trustworthy watching the horses, without them we're out here without a way of leaving in a hurr which we might have to do, so stay with them before I pin your foot to the ground." Aunt Corli was a master negotiator. The other hunters mouthed sorry and gave me a thumbs up as they dismounted withdrew weapons and moved toward the town. The town was pretty large for being in the middle of nowhere, domed roof single story houses were aranged in an ever widening circle on the plain (I was told later that the dome roof is popular for ease of construction and less structural damage from constant rain in the area we were currently in). The area was all flat, no hills at all (another abnormality for Goli, they come from the hills of an area, there weren't any hills for miles around, so no way they could have approached here with ease), I could see in all directions nothing but boring red ground, near the towns outskirts were some kind of crop I couldn't make out, but no feed animals though there were barns. The hunters moved slowly, ranged weapons drawn in a triangle formation with Corli in the middle (I hadn't been trained on any ranged weapon hilariously enough, I figured Linsk was happy I could manage a sword and didn't want to ruin it by having me screw up a bow). I sat down on the road and kicked some rocks (ok so maybe this is the reason I was held back on my first job. I heard shouts from the town ahead, but my attempt at seeing anything came up with nothing, they were too far outside my visual ability.
I was about to sit down again when I felt a vague sense of unease, like walking through a cobweb but in my mind. I drew my long blade and slowly turned around, the horses were way they were before not moving, just slowly braying to each other (probably talking in horse or whatever). I was about to write off my unease on just general loneliness when I hear a small click coming from behind me. I spun with a slash of my long sword and thought I hit air until I heard an ungodly screech and saw part of an insectoid arm flap to the ground. Unfortunately the rest of the creature materialized and I saw that while I cut off one arm it had three more to attack me with. These were not Goli (my aunt had shown me a book of sketches that a hunter had compiled once, Goli were smaller and definately did not walk on two man legs like this one), these were some kind of man spider hybrid, and worse the invisibility I had disrupted was definately magical (the cobweb feeling was that of another magic user nearby). The arm I had sliced off ended in some kind of claw/blade but it still had two very functional hands and another clawblade still attached. Its face was part spider in the eyes and part human in the mouth (the mouth had fangs too many for a normal mouth, extras hang out creepily) I screamed out, but thought better on it since my Aunt and her men were no where nearby. I tried to hack at the other blade arm, but the creature not being surprised by my sudden attack easily parried the blade and sent my sword spiraling away. I went to grab my other sword, but it snatched me by the throat and lifted me in the air. My options slowly diminishing to becoming a corpse I summed up my fire and attempted to throw a palm strike into the creatures face. I once again overcompensated the strike became more of a flaming fist and sank through his head like a hot knife through butter (you never want to know what the inside of a spider creature feels like ever trust me).
I hit my feet with a thump as his corpse crumpled from not having a head (I say he because uhh it looked like a dude). I was no worse for wear from my ordeal, and couldn't feel others (at the time I was worried that I had some kind of creepy spider sense, it would be later I learned of the ability to sense other magic), to hide what I did to the creature I set it on fire (again I feared anyone finding out), it was only after the fact I realized I didn't actually have any implement to set the damn thing on fire. I hoped that if they returned they'd just overlook that, which thankfully they did.
Aunt Corli and her crew arrived covered in black goo hours later. Some of them were wounded (one looked pretty bad), but they had been successful. She was mildly alarmed to see one of them dead when she arrived, but was pretty tired and congratulated me for keeping the horses safe. We made camp outside that town, there was no small talk, the hunters she brought with her had that wild eyed look you get when you see something truely horrible (I've seen it in others but long ago lost the ability to have it myself). It wasn't till the next day I knew the full horror of what was in that town, but that will have to wait. As I'm kinda tired today (again I apologize) you know remembering this particular story calls into relief something I recently dealt with, makes me wonder how many horrors I deal with now I dealt with back then and just forgot.
Oh god am I losing my mind? Nah, I'm just forgetful, hopefully, god I hope I remember I'm forgetful.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Welcome to the Guild
If I had known back then that my time with Aunt Corli would be my last time around any relatives ever I might have spent more time soaking up the attention (well if I also knew back then I'd effectively be immortal I might also let some stuff go a lot sooner then I eventually did). As it was it was nice being with people who actually cared about me. I don't recall a lot of the trip back from the wild to where Corli and her guild were headquartered out of. I do remember one of the hunters killing something that looked awful, but tasted fantastic, and that we kept moving southwest the whole time. Eventually we made Ronewrath territory (this was prior to the divide being built, so you could only really tell you were in Ronewrath lands by more settlements and less crazy wilderness).
It's important to note that Ronewrath did not take kindly to slavery. Which is weird because Ronewrath was a royalty based government with money being the major thing that advanced your rank (where as The Red Hand it was money and magical ability, back then you picked your poison if you were poor nowadays its all just money, which is uhhh shit not much better, but I have money WOO IN YOUR FACE POOR PEOPLE!). So if anyone should have been all about slavery it was Ronewrath, but they abolished it. I heard it had something to do with a royal winding up someones legal slave at some point, but honestly thats all speculation no one really knows. Why its important to note that slavery was not well liked is that even if the Red Hand wanted to do something to Aunt Corli for freeing me, they'd have to cross into Ronewrath territory to do it and even back then they feared the Ronewrath's technology (they didn't yet have guns, but their cannons, crossbows, and explosives were enough to put the fear into the magic users of the Red Hand). Not that anyone would have, I mean she murdered shorty, told the guards she'd cut their balls off and use them for a necklace if they told anyone about what happened and I was just some lower class slave of some rich little jerk, not exactly a war in the brewing.
Anyway thats all background nonesense (perhaps thats what I should call this journal, background nonesense). The guild was run by my Aunt Corli Montrose (a last name I would have taken had I not already made up the superior Lorentino one) she was their leader, helping her keep the group running, fed, and in general health was her partner Sal Rubiesca. Underneath those two was a ragtag group of males (which was funny the two highest members were women but they never hired any more, I once asked my Aunt about this and she smiled and said she didn't want any competition) about a dozen all told, they came and went (membership in a hunters guild is not exactly exlcusive, you come you do work that they get off their name and if you want you leave). The only real static member of the males was Linsk, a soft spoken quiet guy who trained all new members. If people thought his soft spoken ways was a sign of weakness a stiff shot to the solar plexus was all it took for you to pay attention (I'll admit I mocked his voice and paid the price). The guild worked out of a what I was told was an abandoned inn, but looked like it had once been a whore house (I mean how many inns have spots for someone to sit in a closet?).
I arrived a malnourished flailing slave who couldn't read, write, or fight worth a damn (ignoring my fire attack on the beast I was very poor at everything). Aunt Corli and Linsk worked on my fighting and survival (I kept the magic to myself, she was family, but you never know someones reaction to that), Sal the blessed woman helped me with everything else. Sal treated me like I was one of her kids (of which she had two that I saw a couple times, much like my aunt Sal was in her later part of life), she was shorter then me (most women are honestly) and a lot less bulky then Aunt Corli with a lot better temper (my aunt if you couldn't guess was a bit of a hot head, I guess it runs in the family), her skin was the color of someone who didn't know outside work aside from simple gardening, the only real ugly thing about Sal was her missing eye. She didn't wear a patch or hide it (left side). I was told by my Aunt that Sal lost it to her one and only husband, he was not a very nice person and thought she looked at him funny once, so he took her eye out with a fork. Sal responded in kind by poisoning him over the years until he died of "natural" causes, with the inheritance she and Aunt Corli set up the hunters guild and have been happily partners ever since. If there was any leftover malice in Sal, I never saw it.
It would be six months after I arrived before I was ready for my first job. Something I'll write about tomorrow, I feel ill today. Must have been someone I ate (ha necromancer humor, but seriously I did something today that I'll end up writing about years later, but I think its effecting me more then I lead on). Till tomorrow my little journal.
It's important to note that Ronewrath did not take kindly to slavery. Which is weird because Ronewrath was a royalty based government with money being the major thing that advanced your rank (where as The Red Hand it was money and magical ability, back then you picked your poison if you were poor nowadays its all just money, which is uhhh shit not much better, but I have money WOO IN YOUR FACE POOR PEOPLE!). So if anyone should have been all about slavery it was Ronewrath, but they abolished it. I heard it had something to do with a royal winding up someones legal slave at some point, but honestly thats all speculation no one really knows. Why its important to note that slavery was not well liked is that even if the Red Hand wanted to do something to Aunt Corli for freeing me, they'd have to cross into Ronewrath territory to do it and even back then they feared the Ronewrath's technology (they didn't yet have guns, but their cannons, crossbows, and explosives were enough to put the fear into the magic users of the Red Hand). Not that anyone would have, I mean she murdered shorty, told the guards she'd cut their balls off and use them for a necklace if they told anyone about what happened and I was just some lower class slave of some rich little jerk, not exactly a war in the brewing.
Anyway thats all background nonesense (perhaps thats what I should call this journal, background nonesense). The guild was run by my Aunt Corli Montrose (a last name I would have taken had I not already made up the superior Lorentino one) she was their leader, helping her keep the group running, fed, and in general health was her partner Sal Rubiesca. Underneath those two was a ragtag group of males (which was funny the two highest members were women but they never hired any more, I once asked my Aunt about this and she smiled and said she didn't want any competition) about a dozen all told, they came and went (membership in a hunters guild is not exactly exlcusive, you come you do work that they get off their name and if you want you leave). The only real static member of the males was Linsk, a soft spoken quiet guy who trained all new members. If people thought his soft spoken ways was a sign of weakness a stiff shot to the solar plexus was all it took for you to pay attention (I'll admit I mocked his voice and paid the price). The guild worked out of a what I was told was an abandoned inn, but looked like it had once been a whore house (I mean how many inns have spots for someone to sit in a closet?).
I arrived a malnourished flailing slave who couldn't read, write, or fight worth a damn (ignoring my fire attack on the beast I was very poor at everything). Aunt Corli and Linsk worked on my fighting and survival (I kept the magic to myself, she was family, but you never know someones reaction to that), Sal the blessed woman helped me with everything else. Sal treated me like I was one of her kids (of which she had two that I saw a couple times, much like my aunt Sal was in her later part of life), she was shorter then me (most women are honestly) and a lot less bulky then Aunt Corli with a lot better temper (my aunt if you couldn't guess was a bit of a hot head, I guess it runs in the family), her skin was the color of someone who didn't know outside work aside from simple gardening, the only real ugly thing about Sal was her missing eye. She didn't wear a patch or hide it (left side). I was told by my Aunt that Sal lost it to her one and only husband, he was not a very nice person and thought she looked at him funny once, so he took her eye out with a fork. Sal responded in kind by poisoning him over the years until he died of "natural" causes, with the inheritance she and Aunt Corli set up the hunters guild and have been happily partners ever since. If there was any leftover malice in Sal, I never saw it.
It would be six months after I arrived before I was ready for my first job. Something I'll write about tomorrow, I feel ill today. Must have been someone I ate (ha necromancer humor, but seriously I did something today that I'll end up writing about years later, but I think its effecting me more then I lead on). Till tomorrow my little journal.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
The Rise and Fall of Shorty
"Move slave!" I felt the harsh whip of my new master, a small little asshole I'd lovingly nicknamed shabastard (its easy to get out under your breath). I'd been sold at auction a couple days previous to this endearing little jerk. Shorties most of the time are like I have previously described, slaves themselves or feral tribal crazy people (well they were back then, now adays they are a bit more civilized and a bit less enslaved, not all are not currently in shackles, but a lot of them have gotten freedom since the war). This little monster apparently was someones favorite something or other once upon a time and now he takes it out on buying normal sized slaves and treating them like crap! My fire ability which I thought would at least get me a master mildly competent in magic and potentially instruct me in the finerys of life (hahahahaha yeah I was really stupid back then, though honestly having read some rather old fiction stories from the time period this was a common fantasy), instead I got a short rude little dick who made me carry him around on small cart everywhere. It had been two days since he'd purchased me and ever since then I'd been traveling back to his home, every break I took got me a whipping (past a certain pain ceiling you just start taking breaks to be a dick, yeah it hurts but you're already hurt, might as well be rested and more hurt). Shorties entourage consisted of a couple large muscled guards (big on martial skill short on brains they said little because I don't think they knew very much language), a couple new slave girls he'd purchased alongside me (I felt more sorry for them as I was only getting whipped, I didn't have to please shabastard), and me the poor carriage boy. The rest of them walked but shabastard did not, it was beneath him (I had heard that phrase so much in the past two days everything was beneath him, I'd like to have put a pit of lava beneath him).
"Slave!!!!!" Another whip, I'd been resting for a moment now, a small smile spread across my lips with each futile whip. He wasn't using one of the burners, his was the more traditional animal hide make, it still freaking hurt though.
"I'm sorry master I was enjoying the view." The view in this case was red dirt hills with crappy yellow weeds growing amongst them, we'd been traveling southwest, and apparently had hit some form of desert or wasteland of some sort. Water was in short supply so I had gotten very little (that or food, which was great for my figure but hell on my digestive ability). My quip got another whipstrike and I picked up the cart and kept moving, I heard some small chuckles from the guards. It was getting towards dusk when we came across an older lady in the road. She was dressed in animal hides from various different beasts, but unlike Grengor her armor was more uniform, there was definately function over form, all vital areas were covered. She wore no helmet, but I'm sure she had one.
"Move out of the road whore!" Shabastard showed his usual restraint. I noticed for a moment how bad off we currently were. She was standing in the middle of a tighter path lined by both sides of a canyon wall (clearly this path had been cut so as to make travel easier, but at the same time also make ambushes easier), it was also getting dark so visibility was reduced. I couldn't even make out the womans face and I was out front, she had red hair that much was for sure.
"For someone so short on manners, you think you'd make up for it by being big on guards." Her voice was lower then I expected, the kind of gravely sort you'd here from people who lived their entire lives in bars.
"Sir I don't really think we should aggravate the lady, we're not in a..." I attempted to counsel Shabastard and felt the sting of his whip in response. I noticed the woman in front of us flinch with the strike.
"Silence slave, when I want your counsel I'll ask for it, which will be never." Shabastard really was a clever sort. "For a whore you're overdressed, and I have no coin for a woman who has no respect for artistry, begone!" You ever hear a child try and command an adult? Kind of the same thing here. The woman didn't respond, instead she snapped and the ambush was sprung. Men with bows and similar looking armor to their leader surrounded Shabastard.
"Shit." I was the only one apparently upset at this turn of events. Of all ways I wanted to die, bandits in the wild to a mouthy jerk was not one of them (I'm a mouthy jerk, I should be the one to die by my own mouthyness!). The muscle of course offered no resistance (pay checks don't spend nothing if you are dead) Shabastard was quite angry with this turn of events.
"You guilder slut!!! I'll have your entire organization eliminated for this slight!" Guilder of course meaning hunters guild, he had surmized our robber was a professional monster hunter and upsetting her was a good idea? I dunno I'm stupid, I'm not that stupid.
"See you're assuming you're going to live through this, I wouldn't do that little man." It was quick, a flash of a dagger and Shabastard was Shadeadbastard, I truly mourned the loss. The leader said some words to the muscle and sent them on their way with the two female slaves, I was left alone now with her and her six armed associates. Things were looking, well pretty damn awful.
"I'm a slave lady, I have no loyalty to him, I just met him!" When in doubt distance yourself from the recently murdered. The lady came forward, the light was dying more now, but there was a look of familiarity with her.
"I know Trezlan, I know all about what's happened to you as of late, and I'm here to say, I'm sorry." Now you may have noticed at no point Shabastard ever used my name (he didn't even know it to the best of my knowledge). So for this new lady to use it, was a bit of a shock.
"You know me?"
"Not directly, I got a letter once from my sister about you, but I never much liked your father and the feeling was mutual, it was only recently when I went by to see how you were doing that I found out the snake had sold you to some loser, I tracked down that guy and he told me of what happened to you. And so here we are." The others were closer now, I could sense their eyes upon me. I had no shirt on despite it not being the warmest time of the year, the long wounds down my back probably weren't the greatest first impression. I got the sense of pity? Perhaps a little sorrow at my state.
"We're related?" Ok back then I was a bit slow sue me.
"Of course Trezlan! I'm your aunt! You can call me Corli, and these fine gentleman behind you are my men, you are now safely in the company of the best hunters guild around nephew!" I'll admit it was a great feeling to know that someone out there cared. It was so much of a relief I passed out (ok that could have also been from malnutrition combined with being whipped). Tomorrow you learn of my Aunt the Monster hunter, her guild, and how I Trezlan Lorentino, became the greatest monster hunter the world has never known (ok that last part may be a bit of a stretching of truth).
"Slave!!!!!" Another whip, I'd been resting for a moment now, a small smile spread across my lips with each futile whip. He wasn't using one of the burners, his was the more traditional animal hide make, it still freaking hurt though.
"I'm sorry master I was enjoying the view." The view in this case was red dirt hills with crappy yellow weeds growing amongst them, we'd been traveling southwest, and apparently had hit some form of desert or wasteland of some sort. Water was in short supply so I had gotten very little (that or food, which was great for my figure but hell on my digestive ability). My quip got another whipstrike and I picked up the cart and kept moving, I heard some small chuckles from the guards. It was getting towards dusk when we came across an older lady in the road. She was dressed in animal hides from various different beasts, but unlike Grengor her armor was more uniform, there was definately function over form, all vital areas were covered. She wore no helmet, but I'm sure she had one.
"Move out of the road whore!" Shabastard showed his usual restraint. I noticed for a moment how bad off we currently were. She was standing in the middle of a tighter path lined by both sides of a canyon wall (clearly this path had been cut so as to make travel easier, but at the same time also make ambushes easier), it was also getting dark so visibility was reduced. I couldn't even make out the womans face and I was out front, she had red hair that much was for sure.
"For someone so short on manners, you think you'd make up for it by being big on guards." Her voice was lower then I expected, the kind of gravely sort you'd here from people who lived their entire lives in bars.
"Sir I don't really think we should aggravate the lady, we're not in a..." I attempted to counsel Shabastard and felt the sting of his whip in response. I noticed the woman in front of us flinch with the strike.
"Silence slave, when I want your counsel I'll ask for it, which will be never." Shabastard really was a clever sort. "For a whore you're overdressed, and I have no coin for a woman who has no respect for artistry, begone!" You ever hear a child try and command an adult? Kind of the same thing here. The woman didn't respond, instead she snapped and the ambush was sprung. Men with bows and similar looking armor to their leader surrounded Shabastard.
"Shit." I was the only one apparently upset at this turn of events. Of all ways I wanted to die, bandits in the wild to a mouthy jerk was not one of them (I'm a mouthy jerk, I should be the one to die by my own mouthyness!). The muscle of course offered no resistance (pay checks don't spend nothing if you are dead) Shabastard was quite angry with this turn of events.
"You guilder slut!!! I'll have your entire organization eliminated for this slight!" Guilder of course meaning hunters guild, he had surmized our robber was a professional monster hunter and upsetting her was a good idea? I dunno I'm stupid, I'm not that stupid.
"See you're assuming you're going to live through this, I wouldn't do that little man." It was quick, a flash of a dagger and Shabastard was Shadeadbastard, I truly mourned the loss. The leader said some words to the muscle and sent them on their way with the two female slaves, I was left alone now with her and her six armed associates. Things were looking, well pretty damn awful.
"I'm a slave lady, I have no loyalty to him, I just met him!" When in doubt distance yourself from the recently murdered. The lady came forward, the light was dying more now, but there was a look of familiarity with her.
"I know Trezlan, I know all about what's happened to you as of late, and I'm here to say, I'm sorry." Now you may have noticed at no point Shabastard ever used my name (he didn't even know it to the best of my knowledge). So for this new lady to use it, was a bit of a shock.
"You know me?"
"Not directly, I got a letter once from my sister about you, but I never much liked your father and the feeling was mutual, it was only recently when I went by to see how you were doing that I found out the snake had sold you to some loser, I tracked down that guy and he told me of what happened to you. And so here we are." The others were closer now, I could sense their eyes upon me. I had no shirt on despite it not being the warmest time of the year, the long wounds down my back probably weren't the greatest first impression. I got the sense of pity? Perhaps a little sorrow at my state.
"We're related?" Ok back then I was a bit slow sue me.
"Of course Trezlan! I'm your aunt! You can call me Corli, and these fine gentleman behind you are my men, you are now safely in the company of the best hunters guild around nephew!" I'll admit it was a great feeling to know that someone out there cared. It was so much of a relief I passed out (ok that could have also been from malnutrition combined with being whipped). Tomorrow you learn of my Aunt the Monster hunter, her guild, and how I Trezlan Lorentino, became the greatest monster hunter the world has never known (ok that last part may be a bit of a stretching of truth).
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Whip Me Once Shame On Me
Everyone remembers their first time in the big city. The sights, the sounds, being whipped to establish you are now a slave (ok so that last one might be unique to some people). It was days after we left Regor before we arrived in Quez (so named after one of the Red Hand emperors mistresses, which lead to a lot of delightful rumors about the people who lived there). Quez was everything Regor wasn't. It wasn't a direct port city, but it bordered a mountain range that lead to more of the larger cities in the Red Hand, and had thriving mineral mines located near by. Fed by ports like Regor and Delias (Regor to the south, Delias to the east) it sprung up from travel stop to massive marketplace pretty much over night. There were/are a lot of interesting economic coming and goings with Quez, but I'll stick with the past and how my first trip there went (because despite my love of the mundane I know no one else will ever find it exciting!)
We had been on dirt trails for about a week before we arrived. My captor didn't really speak to me after his initial reveal of selling me off. I did learn he had terrible culinary skills as what he considered food even hungry wild animals would have second thoughts about. In a sad way it was a relief when he turned me to over to the slave handlers (yeah despite ports and mineral mines Quez's most dominant trade good was human slaves, perhaps because of the ports and mineral mines...) at least they had edible food, even if it was a bit rotten (which makes no sense, here have this malnourished slave!) My first whipping occured shortly after that. I hadn't actually done anything to deserve it (which is the opposite of most of the punishment I've recieved ever), simply they had to "break" you so that you did as you were told, apparently just telling someone and seeing if they did it was beyond simple slaver logic. Now you may be thinking of a whipping in whatever simple implements you use now (mostly some form of leather with a handle). Back then in Red Hand territory they used a burner. This nasty enchanted item was actually metal links enchanted with fire, so it would close the wound shortly after whipping someone (so they couldn't bleed out, well without effort). Burners thankfully have gone away in recent years, aside from the occaisional sick twists. I had five lashings during a nice conversation about the importance of listening before I was tossed into a cell with others (still shackled mind you).
Now you may be thinking "Why didn't you use magic?" Mainly fear. Red Hand, despite being gluttonous magic users, were caste based rigidly. It was well known in Regor and even the Island I grew up that any slave that attempted to free himself would end up dead in a vareity of awful ways. Should I say break my bonds and attempt to flee I'd be dead before I made it anywhere, or I'd live only to be hunted down by the very Judge who tossed me in here in the first place. There were tales of slaves who lived horrid unlives, kept alive by magic only to be tortured for nobles amusement, these were the fates escaped slaves were sold in to, and it kept most of the rest of us in line.
My cell mates were mostly shorties (slaves are of all colors and heights, but since a lot of the slaves here ended up working the mines, shorties were prefered, easier access to the digging). Vicious feral little buggers, shorties tended to abandon society anyway, using to live in little trible packs in the wilderness (can't really blame them since again they are often enslaved). Their language skills were abysmal, speaking in mostly grunts and gestures. I sighed and sat in the corner, my first time to a big city and I was shackled and didn't really get to see any of it (I saw a gate, and then this crappy slave warehouse).
Of course this wouldn't be my first trip to a city in shackles, thankfully this would be the last time I've been a slave (currently, got to keep those options open). Things are looking pretty desperate right now I'll admit, but there is a light at the end of this tunnel, and not just because I ignited a bunch of people. Tomorrow I shall write of my first and only master!
We had been on dirt trails for about a week before we arrived. My captor didn't really speak to me after his initial reveal of selling me off. I did learn he had terrible culinary skills as what he considered food even hungry wild animals would have second thoughts about. In a sad way it was a relief when he turned me to over to the slave handlers (yeah despite ports and mineral mines Quez's most dominant trade good was human slaves, perhaps because of the ports and mineral mines...) at least they had edible food, even if it was a bit rotten (which makes no sense, here have this malnourished slave!) My first whipping occured shortly after that. I hadn't actually done anything to deserve it (which is the opposite of most of the punishment I've recieved ever), simply they had to "break" you so that you did as you were told, apparently just telling someone and seeing if they did it was beyond simple slaver logic. Now you may be thinking of a whipping in whatever simple implements you use now (mostly some form of leather with a handle). Back then in Red Hand territory they used a burner. This nasty enchanted item was actually metal links enchanted with fire, so it would close the wound shortly after whipping someone (so they couldn't bleed out, well without effort). Burners thankfully have gone away in recent years, aside from the occaisional sick twists. I had five lashings during a nice conversation about the importance of listening before I was tossed into a cell with others (still shackled mind you).
Now you may be thinking "Why didn't you use magic?" Mainly fear. Red Hand, despite being gluttonous magic users, were caste based rigidly. It was well known in Regor and even the Island I grew up that any slave that attempted to free himself would end up dead in a vareity of awful ways. Should I say break my bonds and attempt to flee I'd be dead before I made it anywhere, or I'd live only to be hunted down by the very Judge who tossed me in here in the first place. There were tales of slaves who lived horrid unlives, kept alive by magic only to be tortured for nobles amusement, these were the fates escaped slaves were sold in to, and it kept most of the rest of us in line.
My cell mates were mostly shorties (slaves are of all colors and heights, but since a lot of the slaves here ended up working the mines, shorties were prefered, easier access to the digging). Vicious feral little buggers, shorties tended to abandon society anyway, using to live in little trible packs in the wilderness (can't really blame them since again they are often enslaved). Their language skills were abysmal, speaking in mostly grunts and gestures. I sighed and sat in the corner, my first time to a big city and I was shackled and didn't really get to see any of it (I saw a gate, and then this crappy slave warehouse).
Of course this wouldn't be my first trip to a city in shackles, thankfully this would be the last time I've been a slave (currently, got to keep those options open). Things are looking pretty desperate right now I'll admit, but there is a light at the end of this tunnel, and not just because I ignited a bunch of people. Tomorrow I shall write of my first and only master!
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Slaving Away
"Get up." I'd been trying to sleep, since my incarceration three other drunks had joined me in the cell. They all kept their distance, apparently my display of murderous intent had cowed the locals a bit. It was nice, meant I could have the majority of the bench for sleeping and it was a great change from before. The local law was here now, his overly tight shirt its normal brand of dirty and not caring. Behind him was the judge I'd heard the night before.
It was like a night and day difference, this guy was lean, his skin was pale and not craggy like everyone else in Regor. Short dark hair actually styled (I really shouldn't talk, in those days I let my red hair grow and grow, which lead to tangles and general annoyance), no beard. His "uniform" if you could call it that was black pants, and boots, a large tabard covered his chest area (most likely a simple shirt) the tabard was that of most red hand officials, white with a blood red fist gripping in the middle (hilariously enough during the war these tabards were called bullseyes for obvious reasons). He had a sword on, one of those thin bladed for ceremonial purposes only type of things (too thin to really be useful in a fight, maybe like a single kill) the hilt and sheath were coated in silly runes, at the time I couldn't read or recognize any of them. He had on a fancy pair of gloves that looked to be of a material I'd never seen before, they also had runes down the length of them. He stood behind the local official with a face of contempt, I could see he felt this was a waste of his time, and for a moment feared I'd just be executed and that would be that.
"Lorentino, step forward," The drunks let me by as I came to the front of the cell. He tossed me a pair of shackles and instructed me to put them on. I did as I was told and he unlocked the cell and removed me.
"He's all yours sir." There was a hint of fear in the local mans voice, that kind of speaking to a dangerous person who can kill you at their very whim and suffer nothing for it (which is true).
"Come." Was his only instruction, it didn't seem the kind of command that got a second nicer request so I complied. Outside the guard station were two horses one out in front, the other tied to it, I could see my mishmash of gear was currently sitting in the saddle bags of the lead horse (I guess Grengor's days of being a hunter were over since I now was in ownership of half of stuff). The Red Hand guard instructed me to mount the horse that had been tied in a rear position, and with a bit of difficulty (I was shackled, and never had ridden one before). The Red Hander didn't give me a lot of time to get situated, instead he kicked his horse into gear and hoped I'd hold on. I guess he wanted out of town before we drew too much of a crowd. We were well away from town and down a well beaten path before I even heard him speak to me again. I hadn't noticed it before with his short "come" but his voice was really dry, like spit was something he didn't have at all.
"I just want you to know I don't care at all about you almost killing that man in town."
"He deserved to die."
"I'm sure he did, honestly though most people in that town could be butchered and it wouldn't be a loss at all, no instead I want to know how you killed that beast." I tried to look away, and even though he wasn't looking at me, I could feel his eyes on me.
"What beast?"
He laughed, it was higher then his normal voice, and little more the scary, "You can fool the rubes boy, but I'm not an idiot, I traced the spell you foolishly used on the beast to that town and eventually to you, I gave you a chance to admit it! To embrace your ability, but alas years of living with mere mortals has apparently made you skiddish."
"I burned it down! Conjured fire and wiped it out!" I suddenly felt the need to impress this guy, I guess in a way I wanted to be one of his peers, wear the red hand tabard, embrace my magic not run from it.
"And yet you still wear shackles? And use this?" He pointed to the hilt of my large bone sword, "Hell prior to killing that beast you were in the employ of a skinny drunk who could hardly kill small animals. Mr. Lorentino you are a sad mage." Crestfallen, it was like I'd been judged before I could do anything. "Still you aren't entirely useless."
"Oh?"
"Of course not, you'll fetch a pretty penny at market, though you might end up someones mind slave, oh well such is life Lorentino!" I cursed under my breath and my captor just laughed again. So for those playing along this is the second time I'd been sold in my short life, though I think my dad selling me off is worse then a member of a creepy magictocracy. But I'm biased. How did I escape? Did I escape? What's a mind slave? All will be answered in good time, in good... ahh damn it someones in the shop, till tomorrow!
It was like a night and day difference, this guy was lean, his skin was pale and not craggy like everyone else in Regor. Short dark hair actually styled (I really shouldn't talk, in those days I let my red hair grow and grow, which lead to tangles and general annoyance), no beard. His "uniform" if you could call it that was black pants, and boots, a large tabard covered his chest area (most likely a simple shirt) the tabard was that of most red hand officials, white with a blood red fist gripping in the middle (hilariously enough during the war these tabards were called bullseyes for obvious reasons). He had a sword on, one of those thin bladed for ceremonial purposes only type of things (too thin to really be useful in a fight, maybe like a single kill) the hilt and sheath were coated in silly runes, at the time I couldn't read or recognize any of them. He had on a fancy pair of gloves that looked to be of a material I'd never seen before, they also had runes down the length of them. He stood behind the local official with a face of contempt, I could see he felt this was a waste of his time, and for a moment feared I'd just be executed and that would be that.
"Lorentino, step forward," The drunks let me by as I came to the front of the cell. He tossed me a pair of shackles and instructed me to put them on. I did as I was told and he unlocked the cell and removed me.
"He's all yours sir." There was a hint of fear in the local mans voice, that kind of speaking to a dangerous person who can kill you at their very whim and suffer nothing for it (which is true).
"Come." Was his only instruction, it didn't seem the kind of command that got a second nicer request so I complied. Outside the guard station were two horses one out in front, the other tied to it, I could see my mishmash of gear was currently sitting in the saddle bags of the lead horse (I guess Grengor's days of being a hunter were over since I now was in ownership of half of stuff). The Red Hand guard instructed me to mount the horse that had been tied in a rear position, and with a bit of difficulty (I was shackled, and never had ridden one before). The Red Hander didn't give me a lot of time to get situated, instead he kicked his horse into gear and hoped I'd hold on. I guess he wanted out of town before we drew too much of a crowd. We were well away from town and down a well beaten path before I even heard him speak to me again. I hadn't noticed it before with his short "come" but his voice was really dry, like spit was something he didn't have at all.
"I just want you to know I don't care at all about you almost killing that man in town."
"He deserved to die."
"I'm sure he did, honestly though most people in that town could be butchered and it wouldn't be a loss at all, no instead I want to know how you killed that beast." I tried to look away, and even though he wasn't looking at me, I could feel his eyes on me.
"What beast?"
He laughed, it was higher then his normal voice, and little more the scary, "You can fool the rubes boy, but I'm not an idiot, I traced the spell you foolishly used on the beast to that town and eventually to you, I gave you a chance to admit it! To embrace your ability, but alas years of living with mere mortals has apparently made you skiddish."
"I burned it down! Conjured fire and wiped it out!" I suddenly felt the need to impress this guy, I guess in a way I wanted to be one of his peers, wear the red hand tabard, embrace my magic not run from it.
"And yet you still wear shackles? And use this?" He pointed to the hilt of my large bone sword, "Hell prior to killing that beast you were in the employ of a skinny drunk who could hardly kill small animals. Mr. Lorentino you are a sad mage." Crestfallen, it was like I'd been judged before I could do anything. "Still you aren't entirely useless."
"Oh?"
"Of course not, you'll fetch a pretty penny at market, though you might end up someones mind slave, oh well such is life Lorentino!" I cursed under my breath and my captor just laughed again. So for those playing along this is the second time I'd been sold in my short life, though I think my dad selling me off is worse then a member of a creepy magictocracy. But I'm biased. How did I escape? Did I escape? What's a mind slave? All will be answered in good time, in good... ahh damn it someones in the shop, till tomorrow!
Monday, January 24, 2011
The Birth of Lorentino
Regor looked different now. It could have been that I was armed and looking for Grengor to murder him, but it wasn't so scary anymore. I mean it hadn't been really scary since I was younger, but now I felt above this group of lessers. Like killing the bull creature and hunting my former boss with murderous intent had changed me. It could have also been the corruption that I wasn't aware was affecting me (it doesn't always drive you mad at first, sometimes it just takes away empathy, I read about a person partially under its effects that wiped out a whole village for past transgressions, when he was asked prior to his execution he just shrugged and said he always wanted to do that).
All the same I hit the town shortly after dark. The crash bars were the only real lights on what qualified as "main" street. I had aquired some of Grengor's lost armor to augment my crappily constructed clothing, I'm sure with the partial armor and huge sword I looked like something out of a bad dream (at least at the time I hoped I did, I wanted Grengor to suffer before he died). As if the gods themselves embraced my rage it was raining like it hadn't ever rained before. My entry caused some murmurs from the local drunks, but no one really took notice of me (Regor is a rough town, and the locals are very very drunk). I spotted Grengor in the corner trying to chat up an overweight barmaid. He was mostly armorless, his pale acne marked skin was almost laughable. I couldn't say I'd ever seen him without his armor and now I could see why. His face was a mishmash of ugly parts, too fat lips, too small nose, eyes partially buggy, hair what little of it he had was all stringy. It was almost insulting how long I'd followed him.
"Grengor!!!!" I called out from the entrance, the words stopped him in his tracks, he tried to put the barmaid between myself and him, but she quickly fled. He wasn't armed (of course not I'd seen his swords discarded on the trail) and so I walked right up to him and picked his scrawny ass up with one arm (not off the ground I'm not a super man) and pitched him to the sawdust covered floor, he hit with a thump and I ran up and gave him a nice kick with his own boots (a nice greeting for a complete jerk). I was surprised no one stood forward, but I wrote that off to the scare factor/Regor is full of cowardly drunks. He crawled his way into the street and started begging for his life.
"Please Trezlan, I got scared, haven't you ever gotten scared?" He was on his back, I could see some blood running over his crusty lips, apparently he had hit that ground pretty hard.
"All the time Grengor LIKE WHEN YOU KEPT USING ME FOR BAIT YOU GODS DAMNED COWARD!!!!" I had the sword gripped on my back, my hands ached to use it, I could feel a warmth from my finger tips. I was about to bring the blade down and split the man in two when I heard horses behind me.
"Put it down son this is over." The local law a drunk I'd only seen hustling people for small change was there now, I didn't turn around, but I'm sure his overly tight shirt was soaked and showing everyone way too much gut.
"Not over till this coward is dead, not your fight lawman, step away or become a part of the carnage." I'll admit I had my hackles up. There were others there now, I heard them hop down off their horses as well.
"Its over, put it down or be destroyed." The hum of magic was in the air, this new participant was not the usual rif raff, again I wasn't taken my eyes off Grengor, but I could guess he was one of the Red Hand's Judges, a particularly nasty group I'd only seen once since making land fall. They were there own authority and normally only came out for magical stuff, killing rogue users or just for the fun of it (The Red Hand was known for a lot of things, compassion was never one of them). I weighed getting my revenge versus getting destroyed off the face of the world and decided living was the best revenge. I plunged the huge sword in the ground between Grengor's legs (I'm sure that little move almost got me burned down) and submitted myself to the authorites. I didn't see the blow that knocked me out, just felt the crunch and when I awoke shortly thereafter I was in the local cell stripped of my stolen armor. The "cell" was a cage set in a shakey wooden room with a desk for the local law, there was a single bench in the middle bolted to the ground, it seemed strange accomodations but long term stays were not expected in Regor. This was my first of what would become a career of sitting in cells (yeah I'd say I lived a hard life of mistaken imprisonment, but honestly I've earned every stay and probably more). The overly stick thin clerk of Regor was waiting for me outside the cell at the crappy desk, the law was not around guess they didn't figure me dangerous. I figure he was one of the few people who could read and write in this town, and thats how he got the job of city clerk, god knows it wasn't his people skills.
"What's your name kid?" I hate hate hate when people talked down to me, but judging on where I was anger directed at him could only make my situation worse.
"Trezlan." I rubbed my face the bruise just below my cheek hurt just breathing.
"Last name?"
"Don't have one." I heard him scoff.
"Oh sure you don't, look farm boy these are serious charges, tell me your last name or I get the law to beat it out of you." Prisoners rights were a concept not yet heard of, still haven't honestly. One day society will come to the idea that beating people is not the best information technique. I mulled it over in my head, I couldn't recall my fathers last name, and I never knew my mothers, in the end I just settled on something I thought sounded cool.
"Lorentino."
"How do you spell that?"
"Correctly." I smirked as he looked on with impatience and scribbled something down, and then left. Years later I would track down that piece of paper for posterity, he had spell my name as such "Tresslon Loranteeno". At the time it caused me to laugh enough I was asked if I was ok. At the time I was terrified, obviously I came through all right, and tomorrow I'll tell you all about my first time in front of "Judge". But today be happy with the sight of a young man fresh off his first triumph, locked up in a cell awaiting his execution. Happy story so far right?
All the same I hit the town shortly after dark. The crash bars were the only real lights on what qualified as "main" street. I had aquired some of Grengor's lost armor to augment my crappily constructed clothing, I'm sure with the partial armor and huge sword I looked like something out of a bad dream (at least at the time I hoped I did, I wanted Grengor to suffer before he died). As if the gods themselves embraced my rage it was raining like it hadn't ever rained before. My entry caused some murmurs from the local drunks, but no one really took notice of me (Regor is a rough town, and the locals are very very drunk). I spotted Grengor in the corner trying to chat up an overweight barmaid. He was mostly armorless, his pale acne marked skin was almost laughable. I couldn't say I'd ever seen him without his armor and now I could see why. His face was a mishmash of ugly parts, too fat lips, too small nose, eyes partially buggy, hair what little of it he had was all stringy. It was almost insulting how long I'd followed him.
"Grengor!!!!" I called out from the entrance, the words stopped him in his tracks, he tried to put the barmaid between myself and him, but she quickly fled. He wasn't armed (of course not I'd seen his swords discarded on the trail) and so I walked right up to him and picked his scrawny ass up with one arm (not off the ground I'm not a super man) and pitched him to the sawdust covered floor, he hit with a thump and I ran up and gave him a nice kick with his own boots (a nice greeting for a complete jerk). I was surprised no one stood forward, but I wrote that off to the scare factor/Regor is full of cowardly drunks. He crawled his way into the street and started begging for his life.
"Please Trezlan, I got scared, haven't you ever gotten scared?" He was on his back, I could see some blood running over his crusty lips, apparently he had hit that ground pretty hard.
"All the time Grengor LIKE WHEN YOU KEPT USING ME FOR BAIT YOU GODS DAMNED COWARD!!!!" I had the sword gripped on my back, my hands ached to use it, I could feel a warmth from my finger tips. I was about to bring the blade down and split the man in two when I heard horses behind me.
"Put it down son this is over." The local law a drunk I'd only seen hustling people for small change was there now, I didn't turn around, but I'm sure his overly tight shirt was soaked and showing everyone way too much gut.
"Not over till this coward is dead, not your fight lawman, step away or become a part of the carnage." I'll admit I had my hackles up. There were others there now, I heard them hop down off their horses as well.
"Its over, put it down or be destroyed." The hum of magic was in the air, this new participant was not the usual rif raff, again I wasn't taken my eyes off Grengor, but I could guess he was one of the Red Hand's Judges, a particularly nasty group I'd only seen once since making land fall. They were there own authority and normally only came out for magical stuff, killing rogue users or just for the fun of it (The Red Hand was known for a lot of things, compassion was never one of them). I weighed getting my revenge versus getting destroyed off the face of the world and decided living was the best revenge. I plunged the huge sword in the ground between Grengor's legs (I'm sure that little move almost got me burned down) and submitted myself to the authorites. I didn't see the blow that knocked me out, just felt the crunch and when I awoke shortly thereafter I was in the local cell stripped of my stolen armor. The "cell" was a cage set in a shakey wooden room with a desk for the local law, there was a single bench in the middle bolted to the ground, it seemed strange accomodations but long term stays were not expected in Regor. This was my first of what would become a career of sitting in cells (yeah I'd say I lived a hard life of mistaken imprisonment, but honestly I've earned every stay and probably more). The overly stick thin clerk of Regor was waiting for me outside the cell at the crappy desk, the law was not around guess they didn't figure me dangerous. I figure he was one of the few people who could read and write in this town, and thats how he got the job of city clerk, god knows it wasn't his people skills.
"What's your name kid?" I hate hate hate when people talked down to me, but judging on where I was anger directed at him could only make my situation worse.
"Trezlan." I rubbed my face the bruise just below my cheek hurt just breathing.
"Last name?"
"Don't have one." I heard him scoff.
"Oh sure you don't, look farm boy these are serious charges, tell me your last name or I get the law to beat it out of you." Prisoners rights were a concept not yet heard of, still haven't honestly. One day society will come to the idea that beating people is not the best information technique. I mulled it over in my head, I couldn't recall my fathers last name, and I never knew my mothers, in the end I just settled on something I thought sounded cool.
"Lorentino."
"How do you spell that?"
"Correctly." I smirked as he looked on with impatience and scribbled something down, and then left. Years later I would track down that piece of paper for posterity, he had spell my name as such "Tresslon Loranteeno". At the time it caused me to laugh enough I was asked if I was ok. At the time I was terrified, obviously I came through all right, and tomorrow I'll tell you all about my first time in front of "Judge". But today be happy with the sight of a young man fresh off his first triumph, locked up in a cell awaiting his execution. Happy story so far right?
Friday, January 21, 2011
Take this Job and Shove it!
"It's probably some breed of jumani." Grengor and I were out in the wild once again, I had of course over my five years of employment learned a thing or two about hunting really small easy to kill monsters (Grengor's toughest job is staying sober), a Jumani in this case is a small ape like creature that hunts solo, at most they kill local domestic animals, but recently some townsfolk had gone missing and Grengor the brave and wise had decided this was his moment to show how grand a hunter he was.
"Don't remember asking your opinion boy." His usual happy go lucky response. Grengor had let me carry more of the stuff as time had gone on (I say let more like forced), on this particular trip he'd left Buddy back at the stable because he didn't want him in the way and getting killed (if that doesn't tell you where I sat on the "Do I care about this kid or not scale" nothing would). Most of it was his usual useless crap, nets, random baits, but I did have one of his swords, a large bone bladed beast that had to weigh about a third of what I did (and while I had bulked up since I had become his go to servant, that was still quite the weight), he never used the damn thing due to its size and weight, but I had to lug it along everytime (I swear it was just some kind of toughening up bs he liked to do, once he had me carry his supplies to the top of a hill only to realize it was the wrong hill).
"Sorry sir I'll make sure to ask for permission to make an observation." That got a smack, I'd taken to being more of a smart ass in the intervening years (Grengor had proven to me he was a useless drunk and any respect I showed was wasted, so I took his physical violence as a sign my mockery had hurt his shallow ego). We had gone further then normal this time, I think this is as far as I'd been from Regor in the five years since we'd arrived. He had been "stalking" (read following a really obvious blood trail) the beast for a couple days, its last kill had been one of a traveling merchants slave girls, her rather large midsection had been removed viciously (I tried to point out that maybe we should call one of the actual hunter guilds when I had seen it, but Grengor had hit me at the suggestion saying no gang of idiots could match his skill). My suggestion of it being a Jumani was more about my own fear of what could do the damage to a person, then any actual belief it was one of the small apes. Grengor shushed me and we slowed our pace, we were coming up on a rather large amount of sound for a small creature (again I kept hoping it was just a really loud small thing). Up ahead there was a rather large cave/hole that looked recently dug, the blood trail went inside of it. The "cave" was about nine feet wide and appeared to go down at an angle, no beast I'd ever seen dug a hole in the ground, let alone quite so large of one.
"I vote we wait it out, eventually its got to come out and then we got it!" It was a sound plan, which meant Grengor would not use it.
"Drop your stuff, take a torch and get that thing out here." Of course why wait for a tactical advantage and surprise attack when you can just send in your slave to do that for you.
"Can I at least bring a weapon?"
"No, don't want you trying to be a hero and stealing my glory." Grengor ladies and gentleman, if he wasn't already long dead I'd kill him! I put my considerable pack down and thought for a moment to grab that long heavy useless sword, but decided he wouldn't let me take it and its not like I could hide it. I snatched a torch out and made a fake showing of trying to ignite it with rocks before just using magic (look I'm no trail scout or any such nonesense, I have an easy way to light things and I use it). With a final look at Grengor for a "Really please sir can't we just wait out here?" I went into the cave/hole. The blood was more plentiful inside and coated the walls as it went. Whatever it had drug in here was a large bleeder, with each step I felt my confidence shaking more and more. The noise got closer as the entrance light faded behind me, I really felt disarmed underneath the earth down there. The cave took a turn to the left and I could see what looked like a gnawed off arm sitting there pointing back the way I came (as if the person that had lost it attempted to leave something behind to find his way back out). As I turned the corner I saw the creature.
The first thing that jumped out to me was red it was, at first I thought it might have been natural skin tone until I saw the bodies it was happily gnawing away at and figured that the red was not its natural color. The body was thick armor plates, with what appeared to be three legs (in a triangle foundation two in the front one in the rear to anchor it). I couldn't see its face but from the carnage and the crunching I figured lots of ugly teeth. Size wise it was about the size of large bull, but clearly more dangerous. I was tempted to just run away (well I was supposed to run away, but was tempted to do so before getting the beasts attention), but like all things in my life I was too stupid not to do the really stupid thing.
"Hey ugly come catch me!" I didn't turn and see if it was following, I could feel the rapid thumping coming from behind me. I figured I wasn't going to make it and I'd die all alone down there under the earth (I'm sure Grengor wouldn't even bother to tell anyone I did die). But my fast feet, or perhaps just pity from the whatever the hell it was caused me to fly out of that cave like no man has ever run before (I'd say since, but I've escaped more than my fair share of evil since then). I didn't even see Grengor when I exited, I figured maybe he was waiting or hiding nearby, I turned to look at the beast and could see it was just about on me. Figuring my awesome boss had gotten drunk or just left me anyway I made peace with my makers (read screamed like a little girl startled in the dark). Oddly that seemed to stop the beast for a half second, and then Grengor got his lazy ass in gear. He emerged and shouted at the creature, and then shouted again in utter surprise at what the damn thing was. I couldn't make out what he screamed, but the end result was fleeing in the other direction as fast as he could while shedding armor to allow for speed. Now in a sane world the beast would have chased down and eaten Grengor and I could have escaped, unfortunately I was apparently the more appetizing snack as instead of chasing Grengor, it once again turned toward me.
So there I was standing opposite a large beast I'd seen eating people and seen the after effect of what it had done to people. By all accounts I should have run. Any other day I probably would have, but I had hate on my side. Five years of walled up hate, from what Grengor had done to me, had let happen to me, and then in a moment that would symoblize the relationship had left me to die. All I had was my torch and the hate, but when you're a young pyromancer with no one around to see you, you do something funny, you let loose. The bull creature indeed had a vicious mouth, a double row of jaws that clacked together when it turned to stare me down. I could make out a piece of its last victim hanging inside. With the hate raging inside and a "Screw it I'm going to die" within me I called up all the flame I could muster, using the torch as a focal point I unleashed the attack. At first I saw nothing, I thought all my years of hoping I was stronger, that one day I would show them, was all bluster, and then I felt the air get sucked out of my lungs, the torch flared a massive fire ball three times the bull creature and became a wall of flame the scorched the very ground in front of me for several feet. The bull creature tried to scream, but it was enveloped in the flame and its cries fell silent as the unnatural fire burned it every which way. I was about to cheer at my own ability when a shooting pain stabbed me in the stomach, it arced through me like a lightning bolt, as I hit the ground I worried the creature had some kind of poison in death that I was now covered in and would slowly die to. With gasping breath I hoped someone would at least cheer the last moment of Trezlan should they come across the scene.
I know now that was the corruption, that the pain was it spreading across my insides for using too much power too quickly, honestly its amazing I survived such a stupid maneuver, and survived with my sanity. Years later I would discover the blackness that I had damaged myself with. Back then however I awoke hours later, the creature was still very dead, the pain was just a dull buzzing in my ears. I managed to get to my feet, and stumbled over to the stuff Grengor had me drop before I went into the tunnel. I took up the large bone sword with a look I'm sure that screamed murder and set out to find my former employer and notify him of my desire to no longer be his servant. Thankfully he had left me a trail of armor to track down. With a smile on my face I stalked off in the dark, my "hunt" was on.
"Don't remember asking your opinion boy." His usual happy go lucky response. Grengor had let me carry more of the stuff as time had gone on (I say let more like forced), on this particular trip he'd left Buddy back at the stable because he didn't want him in the way and getting killed (if that doesn't tell you where I sat on the "Do I care about this kid or not scale" nothing would). Most of it was his usual useless crap, nets, random baits, but I did have one of his swords, a large bone bladed beast that had to weigh about a third of what I did (and while I had bulked up since I had become his go to servant, that was still quite the weight), he never used the damn thing due to its size and weight, but I had to lug it along everytime (I swear it was just some kind of toughening up bs he liked to do, once he had me carry his supplies to the top of a hill only to realize it was the wrong hill).
"Sorry sir I'll make sure to ask for permission to make an observation." That got a smack, I'd taken to being more of a smart ass in the intervening years (Grengor had proven to me he was a useless drunk and any respect I showed was wasted, so I took his physical violence as a sign my mockery had hurt his shallow ego). We had gone further then normal this time, I think this is as far as I'd been from Regor in the five years since we'd arrived. He had been "stalking" (read following a really obvious blood trail) the beast for a couple days, its last kill had been one of a traveling merchants slave girls, her rather large midsection had been removed viciously (I tried to point out that maybe we should call one of the actual hunter guilds when I had seen it, but Grengor had hit me at the suggestion saying no gang of idiots could match his skill). My suggestion of it being a Jumani was more about my own fear of what could do the damage to a person, then any actual belief it was one of the small apes. Grengor shushed me and we slowed our pace, we were coming up on a rather large amount of sound for a small creature (again I kept hoping it was just a really loud small thing). Up ahead there was a rather large cave/hole that looked recently dug, the blood trail went inside of it. The "cave" was about nine feet wide and appeared to go down at an angle, no beast I'd ever seen dug a hole in the ground, let alone quite so large of one.
"I vote we wait it out, eventually its got to come out and then we got it!" It was a sound plan, which meant Grengor would not use it.
"Drop your stuff, take a torch and get that thing out here." Of course why wait for a tactical advantage and surprise attack when you can just send in your slave to do that for you.
"Can I at least bring a weapon?"
"No, don't want you trying to be a hero and stealing my glory." Grengor ladies and gentleman, if he wasn't already long dead I'd kill him! I put my considerable pack down and thought for a moment to grab that long heavy useless sword, but decided he wouldn't let me take it and its not like I could hide it. I snatched a torch out and made a fake showing of trying to ignite it with rocks before just using magic (look I'm no trail scout or any such nonesense, I have an easy way to light things and I use it). With a final look at Grengor for a "Really please sir can't we just wait out here?" I went into the cave/hole. The blood was more plentiful inside and coated the walls as it went. Whatever it had drug in here was a large bleeder, with each step I felt my confidence shaking more and more. The noise got closer as the entrance light faded behind me, I really felt disarmed underneath the earth down there. The cave took a turn to the left and I could see what looked like a gnawed off arm sitting there pointing back the way I came (as if the person that had lost it attempted to leave something behind to find his way back out). As I turned the corner I saw the creature.
The first thing that jumped out to me was red it was, at first I thought it might have been natural skin tone until I saw the bodies it was happily gnawing away at and figured that the red was not its natural color. The body was thick armor plates, with what appeared to be three legs (in a triangle foundation two in the front one in the rear to anchor it). I couldn't see its face but from the carnage and the crunching I figured lots of ugly teeth. Size wise it was about the size of large bull, but clearly more dangerous. I was tempted to just run away (well I was supposed to run away, but was tempted to do so before getting the beasts attention), but like all things in my life I was too stupid not to do the really stupid thing.
"Hey ugly come catch me!" I didn't turn and see if it was following, I could feel the rapid thumping coming from behind me. I figured I wasn't going to make it and I'd die all alone down there under the earth (I'm sure Grengor wouldn't even bother to tell anyone I did die). But my fast feet, or perhaps just pity from the whatever the hell it was caused me to fly out of that cave like no man has ever run before (I'd say since, but I've escaped more than my fair share of evil since then). I didn't even see Grengor when I exited, I figured maybe he was waiting or hiding nearby, I turned to look at the beast and could see it was just about on me. Figuring my awesome boss had gotten drunk or just left me anyway I made peace with my makers (read screamed like a little girl startled in the dark). Oddly that seemed to stop the beast for a half second, and then Grengor got his lazy ass in gear. He emerged and shouted at the creature, and then shouted again in utter surprise at what the damn thing was. I couldn't make out what he screamed, but the end result was fleeing in the other direction as fast as he could while shedding armor to allow for speed. Now in a sane world the beast would have chased down and eaten Grengor and I could have escaped, unfortunately I was apparently the more appetizing snack as instead of chasing Grengor, it once again turned toward me.
So there I was standing opposite a large beast I'd seen eating people and seen the after effect of what it had done to people. By all accounts I should have run. Any other day I probably would have, but I had hate on my side. Five years of walled up hate, from what Grengor had done to me, had let happen to me, and then in a moment that would symoblize the relationship had left me to die. All I had was my torch and the hate, but when you're a young pyromancer with no one around to see you, you do something funny, you let loose. The bull creature indeed had a vicious mouth, a double row of jaws that clacked together when it turned to stare me down. I could make out a piece of its last victim hanging inside. With the hate raging inside and a "Screw it I'm going to die" within me I called up all the flame I could muster, using the torch as a focal point I unleashed the attack. At first I saw nothing, I thought all my years of hoping I was stronger, that one day I would show them, was all bluster, and then I felt the air get sucked out of my lungs, the torch flared a massive fire ball three times the bull creature and became a wall of flame the scorched the very ground in front of me for several feet. The bull creature tried to scream, but it was enveloped in the flame and its cries fell silent as the unnatural fire burned it every which way. I was about to cheer at my own ability when a shooting pain stabbed me in the stomach, it arced through me like a lightning bolt, as I hit the ground I worried the creature had some kind of poison in death that I was now covered in and would slowly die to. With gasping breath I hoped someone would at least cheer the last moment of Trezlan should they come across the scene.
I know now that was the corruption, that the pain was it spreading across my insides for using too much power too quickly, honestly its amazing I survived such a stupid maneuver, and survived with my sanity. Years later I would discover the blackness that I had damaged myself with. Back then however I awoke hours later, the creature was still very dead, the pain was just a dull buzzing in my ears. I managed to get to my feet, and stumbled over to the stuff Grengor had me drop before I went into the tunnel. I took up the large bone sword with a look I'm sure that screamed murder and set out to find my former employer and notify him of my desire to no longer be his servant. Thankfully he had left me a trail of armor to track down. With a smile on my face I stalked off in the dark, my "hunt" was on.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Hunting for an Excuse
SMACK! My eye was pretty much closed now, the shot had partially blinded my good eye with stars. I was dazed and woozy, my attackers (one of several, four boys as best I can recall) were all chanting and cheering now. That's the most scary thing about a group beating, how it escalates and encourages others in the group to do more to gain acceptance. I can't even recall now what had started this fight, too much mouth on my part? A percieved slight when one of them had asked me a question? I can't recall (time and the fact it was a vicious beating), I do remember I hurt for a couple days after and Grengor never asked about the bruises, cuts, or general dishelvelment I had. That should have been my first indication that Grengor was not much of a hero, let alone teacher. The only thing I remember him telling me when he swung by clearly hung over after I'd been beaten again, was "Need to learn to fight if you want to live around here." And then he wandered off to hit on some dirty woman in the street. Needless to say my days in Regor made me regret my childlike wonderment for being someplace new. I do give myself credit, I never went to my magic. I don't know if it was fear of getting caught, or fear of having to murder my attackers because a non fatal blow would just enrage them more, all the same when we left four days after we had arrived I felt a lot better. Grengor apparently had picked up a job in town, and was setting out with me to get it done.
"You know what I do for a living boy?" Everyone called me boy when I was younger, I purposefully avoid its usage for that very reason now.
"You're a hunter sir."
"That's right." Hunters back then are not the small game trappers of today, but instead Monster Hunting was the ruffian layabout work of choice. It's sadly a lost art nowadays (though after the war its making a comeback due to a lot of nasties that were unearthed by reckless magical users intent on keeping their power). Back then an accomplished hunter made good coin keeping local peoples from becoming some beasts snack. Most of the creatures were minor annoyances hunted mainly for their hides or other valuable materials, some of them were beyond the pale terrors though. The first use of black powder weapony was to drive off these insane monstrosities (initially ships were equipped with cannons to deal with the monsters, of course that last like five seconds before they started using them on other ships, but we are talking about initially!) Most of the really big creatures required one of the guilds, of which there were several (I've heard they still exist if only to pay homage to their roots but professional monster hunting really died off about a hundred years ago). Grengor wasn't a member of a guild (I don't think he could even spell the word), he was a free lance moron who hunted things slightly more dangerous then a wolf. I mean they could very easily kill me a a small boy, but a man in full armor with weapons? A simple matter of setting a trap and spearing the beast it caught.
My first job with Grengor was of that type, some snake like beast that had eaten someones something or other (could have been a child it was big enough, but Regor was not without a population of useless layabout children so overall not a big loss). We were out in the wild for a couple of days before we came across it (or something that looked enough like it that Grengor could sell the corpse), his strategy (and I use that term very loosely) involved me standing out in the open looking lost and very afraid while he waited nearby to strike the beast down. Now this was a great strat for Grengor, but sucked just a little bit for a very young Trezlan standing out in the middle of a field wondering if the snake creature approaching me was about to have a big damn dinner (obviously it didn't as so far no one writes things post death, that I'm aware of, got to keep these things open). It was a two headed beasty, with a vicious tail spike in the rare that it held aloft preparing to strike (I later learned this type uses a paralytic venom). I screamed help, hoping to wake up Grengor in case he fell asleep when he emerged from the shadows and slayed the beast with a simple chop of one of his swords, the tail fell to the ground and he stood their victorious.
"Help? Boy you need to learn to hold your tongue." Grengor showing his normal care.
"I was worried."
"You've got more to worry about from me, then this, now get my knives." He shook one of the disembodied heads at me to indicate the urgency of the matter. I retrieved his items as per his instruction and he began the process of cleaning the beast and leaving its guts to rot. And so things went with me and Grengor for around five years. He was based out of Regor sadly, which meant I spent five years of my existence in a jerkwater town full of miscreants and the cast offs of incestual birth (not a judgement, you'd see fathers sizing up their more bucksome daughters in the open street). I got into more fights, and lost more fights, all the time I had new bruises or marks that Grengor would laugh off and tell me where we were headed that day. We never went far, never did anything too exciting, I got good at waiting around in crappy weather and sewing. Oh yes the sewing, Grengor was a cheap old miser bastard who felt that (much like my father) I had to make my own way, my "clothing" consisted of whatever wouldn't sell from whatever he killed hastily stitched together with a dull needle and crappy thread. Needless to say my first kills were my damn fingers (it's amazing how a dull needle can still poke and cause you to bleed). I'm sure back then I probably looked more monster than boy.
I was a young man when the incident happened, the one that would start me on a path to being who I am today. And tomorrow I shall recount that tale! I'd do it today, but I've actually got work later, I know little journal, its amazing I actually do stuff outside of write my grandiose adventures in you!
"You know what I do for a living boy?" Everyone called me boy when I was younger, I purposefully avoid its usage for that very reason now.
"You're a hunter sir."
"That's right." Hunters back then are not the small game trappers of today, but instead Monster Hunting was the ruffian layabout work of choice. It's sadly a lost art nowadays (though after the war its making a comeback due to a lot of nasties that were unearthed by reckless magical users intent on keeping their power). Back then an accomplished hunter made good coin keeping local peoples from becoming some beasts snack. Most of the creatures were minor annoyances hunted mainly for their hides or other valuable materials, some of them were beyond the pale terrors though. The first use of black powder weapony was to drive off these insane monstrosities (initially ships were equipped with cannons to deal with the monsters, of course that last like five seconds before they started using them on other ships, but we are talking about initially!) Most of the really big creatures required one of the guilds, of which there were several (I've heard they still exist if only to pay homage to their roots but professional monster hunting really died off about a hundred years ago). Grengor wasn't a member of a guild (I don't think he could even spell the word), he was a free lance moron who hunted things slightly more dangerous then a wolf. I mean they could very easily kill me a a small boy, but a man in full armor with weapons? A simple matter of setting a trap and spearing the beast it caught.
My first job with Grengor was of that type, some snake like beast that had eaten someones something or other (could have been a child it was big enough, but Regor was not without a population of useless layabout children so overall not a big loss). We were out in the wild for a couple of days before we came across it (or something that looked enough like it that Grengor could sell the corpse), his strategy (and I use that term very loosely) involved me standing out in the open looking lost and very afraid while he waited nearby to strike the beast down. Now this was a great strat for Grengor, but sucked just a little bit for a very young Trezlan standing out in the middle of a field wondering if the snake creature approaching me was about to have a big damn dinner (obviously it didn't as so far no one writes things post death, that I'm aware of, got to keep these things open). It was a two headed beasty, with a vicious tail spike in the rare that it held aloft preparing to strike (I later learned this type uses a paralytic venom). I screamed help, hoping to wake up Grengor in case he fell asleep when he emerged from the shadows and slayed the beast with a simple chop of one of his swords, the tail fell to the ground and he stood their victorious.
"Help? Boy you need to learn to hold your tongue." Grengor showing his normal care.
"I was worried."
"You've got more to worry about from me, then this, now get my knives." He shook one of the disembodied heads at me to indicate the urgency of the matter. I retrieved his items as per his instruction and he began the process of cleaning the beast and leaving its guts to rot. And so things went with me and Grengor for around five years. He was based out of Regor sadly, which meant I spent five years of my existence in a jerkwater town full of miscreants and the cast offs of incestual birth (not a judgement, you'd see fathers sizing up their more bucksome daughters in the open street). I got into more fights, and lost more fights, all the time I had new bruises or marks that Grengor would laugh off and tell me where we were headed that day. We never went far, never did anything too exciting, I got good at waiting around in crappy weather and sewing. Oh yes the sewing, Grengor was a cheap old miser bastard who felt that (much like my father) I had to make my own way, my "clothing" consisted of whatever wouldn't sell from whatever he killed hastily stitched together with a dull needle and crappy thread. Needless to say my first kills were my damn fingers (it's amazing how a dull needle can still poke and cause you to bleed). I'm sure back then I probably looked more monster than boy.
I was a young man when the incident happened, the one that would start me on a path to being who I am today. And tomorrow I shall recount that tale! I'd do it today, but I've actually got work later, I know little journal, its amazing I actually do stuff outside of write my grandiose adventures in you!
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Grengor the Patient
"What's your name?" We had been on the boat a few days at this point, I hadn't heard anything from Grengor other then orders on where to put things, and to keep myself out of his way. Far as I could see he never ever got out of his armor, I couldn't even tell if he was light skinned or dark (I figured light based on what I could make out of his face, but again the armor never came off). The boat was sadly on the way to the lands of the Red Hand (I had hoped for Ronewrath as speaking with merchants it was a land of high society and fancy ladies), some dirt water port on the southern part of the land mass. Which made sense considering Grengor looked like the kind of person you'd see begging outside of a fancy town, not living it up in one.
"T t t t t rezlan sir." I admit back then I was not the complete sarcastic jerk I've grown into now as an adult (or am I an ancient? Its not like I can actually ask someone what you'd call someone as old as I am, well I could but the only other guy I know my age is a person I'd rather avoid for the rest of time).
"You have a last name?" Grengor was absently chewing on some kind of animal. I hadn't eaten, the ships galley served food that was not only foreign to me, but made me wretch at the sight of it. Well I wretched a lot anyway, despite living on an island I'd never sailed before so I was running to the top a lot to puke, Grengor found it funny, for me each day was an exercise in finding out how you can keep puking with nothing left to puke.
"No sir, my father said I would get one when I did something with my life."
"Your father is a wise man Trezlan, you would do well to heed his advice." It was a point of silly pride that this warrior thought of my father as wise. Even if I didn't like the man I was still his son, so I felt smarter by parroting his stupid advice (and it is stupid, who doesn't give your son your last name? Assholes thats who). My conversation with Grengor was interrupted as another wave of nausea swept over me and I ran up to the top of the ship to throw up, I could hear his snortled laughter as I ran. It wasn't much to puke just some water and white fluid, but I felt drained when it was all over. One of the deckhands who had been nicer then most came over to make sure I was all right. He had to have been over seventy if he was a day, but still looked to be the lowest person on the ship judging on his dirty apparel.
"You all right youg fella?"
"Nnnnnever rode on a boat before." I was sniffling pretty terrible from the puke and it makes me laugh now, but back then talking to adults was difficult, I always stuttered (now I spit in the face of demons and make a witty retort, well when I'm not cowering in fear, demons are scary).
"Its a ship for one young sir, and you'll do fine, the waters here are calm. Now if you want to see something truely horrific try sailing some place farther away, like Ubu, or Koderi, those are some voyages." He had the wistful look of someone remembering better times, I've since seen that look in my own eyes many times (usually when I'm sitting in a jail cell). I thanked him for the remark got my feet and joined Grengor back below (he didn't want me apart from him for long, something about being his property and not running off, as if I could go anywhere except over the side). Eventually we pulled into port and I thanked Byorno the god of water (he was the dominant tribal god from the Island I grew up on). Grengor spit and insulted the ship captain for how long it had taken to get to port and navigated Buddy off the ships ramp and on to the crumbled stone of the dock we had arrived at.
Regor a half developed port on the southern coast of the Red Hand's territory. The dock was made of stone from when some other civiliation had built it up, but the current brand of vagabonds and loose moral'd simpletons could in no way keep it going. Even back then it was being reclaimed by the enviroment, cracked stone covered in mold and fungus. Regor was the kind of place ship captains stopped at before going some place nicer, it was a couple bars, some poorly constructed houses and a dirt road. Back then saying you were from Regor was a black mark against you. And to me it was wonderful! I was looking at some place new. So what it was covered in dirt, everyone looked like worked in a mine and the people driving horses through almost killed you by not paying attention, it wasn't where I was from and in that I was home!
Grengor stopped at one of the two blood and teeth bars and directed me to stable Buddy at the ramshackle building next to it. I asked him where I was staying and he grunted and said with Buddy to make sure noone stole anything (a smart decision for him, but really sucked for me). He gave me some coins and told me I better not short change him or he'd take it out of me. The "Stables" (I use that term very loosely) smelled worse then Grengor and had a couple other similar pack animals with their associated dirty boy looking after them. I paid the bored looking stable hand the money I'd been given and maneuvered Buddy into the stall I was directed to for the night. Despite the accomodations I figured this was the first step in a grand adventure, that soon me and Grengor would carve a swath through the country side. Oh how wrong (and right) I was about to be.
"T t t t t rezlan sir." I admit back then I was not the complete sarcastic jerk I've grown into now as an adult (or am I an ancient? Its not like I can actually ask someone what you'd call someone as old as I am, well I could but the only other guy I know my age is a person I'd rather avoid for the rest of time).
"You have a last name?" Grengor was absently chewing on some kind of animal. I hadn't eaten, the ships galley served food that was not only foreign to me, but made me wretch at the sight of it. Well I wretched a lot anyway, despite living on an island I'd never sailed before so I was running to the top a lot to puke, Grengor found it funny, for me each day was an exercise in finding out how you can keep puking with nothing left to puke.
"No sir, my father said I would get one when I did something with my life."
"Your father is a wise man Trezlan, you would do well to heed his advice." It was a point of silly pride that this warrior thought of my father as wise. Even if I didn't like the man I was still his son, so I felt smarter by parroting his stupid advice (and it is stupid, who doesn't give your son your last name? Assholes thats who). My conversation with Grengor was interrupted as another wave of nausea swept over me and I ran up to the top of the ship to throw up, I could hear his snortled laughter as I ran. It wasn't much to puke just some water and white fluid, but I felt drained when it was all over. One of the deckhands who had been nicer then most came over to make sure I was all right. He had to have been over seventy if he was a day, but still looked to be the lowest person on the ship judging on his dirty apparel.
"You all right youg fella?"
"Nnnnnever rode on a boat before." I was sniffling pretty terrible from the puke and it makes me laugh now, but back then talking to adults was difficult, I always stuttered (now I spit in the face of demons and make a witty retort, well when I'm not cowering in fear, demons are scary).
"Its a ship for one young sir, and you'll do fine, the waters here are calm. Now if you want to see something truely horrific try sailing some place farther away, like Ubu, or Koderi, those are some voyages." He had the wistful look of someone remembering better times, I've since seen that look in my own eyes many times (usually when I'm sitting in a jail cell). I thanked him for the remark got my feet and joined Grengor back below (he didn't want me apart from him for long, something about being his property and not running off, as if I could go anywhere except over the side). Eventually we pulled into port and I thanked Byorno the god of water (he was the dominant tribal god from the Island I grew up on). Grengor spit and insulted the ship captain for how long it had taken to get to port and navigated Buddy off the ships ramp and on to the crumbled stone of the dock we had arrived at.
Regor a half developed port on the southern coast of the Red Hand's territory. The dock was made of stone from when some other civiliation had built it up, but the current brand of vagabonds and loose moral'd simpletons could in no way keep it going. Even back then it was being reclaimed by the enviroment, cracked stone covered in mold and fungus. Regor was the kind of place ship captains stopped at before going some place nicer, it was a couple bars, some poorly constructed houses and a dirt road. Back then saying you were from Regor was a black mark against you. And to me it was wonderful! I was looking at some place new. So what it was covered in dirt, everyone looked like worked in a mine and the people driving horses through almost killed you by not paying attention, it wasn't where I was from and in that I was home!
Grengor stopped at one of the two blood and teeth bars and directed me to stable Buddy at the ramshackle building next to it. I asked him where I was staying and he grunted and said with Buddy to make sure noone stole anything (a smart decision for him, but really sucked for me). He gave me some coins and told me I better not short change him or he'd take it out of me. The "Stables" (I use that term very loosely) smelled worse then Grengor and had a couple other similar pack animals with their associated dirty boy looking after them. I paid the bored looking stable hand the money I'd been given and maneuvered Buddy into the stall I was directed to for the night. Despite the accomodations I figured this was the first step in a grand adventure, that soon me and Grengor would carve a swath through the country side. Oh how wrong (and right) I was about to be.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
The Joys of Youth
It's funny what you remember from your youth (not funny ha ha funny weird). Like I can't recall my fathers face, but I remember his smell, he always smelled of grease for some odd reason. He spent untold of sums for fine perfumes to cover the smell, but always it would return, that underlying sickening smell of grease. He wasn't even a large man or someone who ate a lot of greasy food. So I guess the smell was pennance for just being a jerk (of which he certainly was).
I tried to remember as far back as I could, just in case I start to lose my mind after living this long (its a possibility, I've never been the sanest even without the threat of the corruption), I was able to remember to around when I was five. It was a fuzzy memory at best, something about my mother, a dark skinned woman with really black hair, I remember her hair because when I saw her last it was the only thing of her that wasn't sickly as she laid on her funeral pyre. My next clearest memory will probably take a few days to go through as there were many parts and it ultimately lead to me leaving the place where I was born (A small island in the bay area between Ronewrath territory and what at the time was The Kingdom of the Red Hand, the Red Hand of course are now no more).
Ok so I was born on the island to my father (A thin slightly dirt colored man who of course smelled ike grease) a small territorial leader of a crappy little trade tribe (we were in a prime position for boats loading up to either area to stop in, get ship supplies before moving on to their final destination). He was the kind of self made rich person who thought everyone should be self made, including his one son (well the one that lived with him, I would come to find my father also "traded" himself frequently and I had a lot of half brothers and sisters). My mother was actually a pirate or so I was told, she had come and gone as she pleased until she died of her illness when I was around seven, I didn't really know her very much, in a way it hurt me back then, but I tried not to let it show. I grew up in the servants quarters of my fathers stickwork hut near the water (Seriously I lived a servant in my fathers own house). My father had two servants: Borla, a light skinned cook who always seemed so exotic because of her skin (everyone else on the island was brown), And Rondo a shortie (oh I forgot to mention there are at least two races of humanoids on this rock, basically shorties and normals, I'm a normal, shorites are of course short there is your brief description, also shorties due to being smaller are usually laborers/slaves to normals, because they are short) cleaner/fixer/everything, Rondo was my Dad's most trusted associate, and Rondo hated the man with every fiber of his short self.
I'd like to say that the servants treated me nicely, but they didn't. I was seen as much of a burden to them as I was seen as a burden to my father (you can see a pattern here I'm sure). Back then I grew my hair out, and it was fire red (ha ha a pyromancer with red hair, you can see why I keep my hair bald and dye my beard grey, well you would if I gave you a description of what I looked like), I was always a tall gangly child, all limb no weight. Which was hard on island life because most of the other people were stockier, I got into and lost a lot of fights early on. Reading/writing was a skill of the elite back then, so I learned none of that, I barely spoke or had any skills other then running (a skill I utilize to this day). The one thing I did have was my magic, I kept it from everyone having seen a prior user in the village be burned alive (and not from his own magical ability), that kind of thing sticks with you as a kid. I practiced in secret, burning things for my own personal amusement (never anything living in case you were worried, just leaves, twigs, the occaisional shoe of a nasty bully, they aren't really alive), I liked to think I was proficient in it, and that one day I would join one of the Red Hand's supply convoys as a guard and leave my father and his greasy smell behind, alas.
I was the ripe age of fourteen when my father drug me out of bed on a sunny day and presented me to someone who smelled worse then he did. I was in my sleeping shorts and bleary eyed, but I could sense this other man in his rough hewn armor and variety of weaponry was not another trade associate of my fathers. The armor looked to be of various animal hides sewn together by a very poor tailorer, the weapons of which I could see three, were all of a different type, one sword, one mace, and one small handaxe. Whoever this guy was, he clearly had seen more combat then just the bullies on the island.
"Well Grengor, this is the boy." That was my name to my father, the boy, or my boy. I think my mother named me Trezlan.
"He seems too skinny Randle." Grengor talked in a husky voice, like he'd spent his life inside smoke filled dens.
"He'll toughen up or he'll die Grengor, you asked me what I had for trade and this it." I had the sudden impression I was being traded (you know after my father directly said that). Grengor grunted and came close, the smell was overwhelming, like body odor combined with cheap liquor, it wasn't so much coming from him as it was an aura. He inspected me like I'd seen my father look over animals. In the end he snorted, snatched me by the arm told me to get my things and that he would be waiting outside. My things in this case were just clothing (never really had toys or anything of note really), my clothing wasn't even good for bad weather as the island never really got that. All the same I remember being excited! I had never liked the island, and this new guy was a warrior of some kind? I fancied myself a warrior as well and this would be my chance. I hit the porch running and Grengor was true to his word waiting for me. He had with him a simple labor animal (like a mix between a horse and an ox, I want to say they called them hoxen, I have no idea what they are called as I haven't seen one of those in years), on it was heaped more gear, I sought to add my simple pack to it but Grengor shook his head and actually took some stuff off it.
"Buddy is mine as are you boy, you'll carry my stuff and your own, if you can't I'll leave wherever you give up." He handed me the heavy whateverthehell it was and made his way for the docks. I followed my burden holding me down, but still kind of happy. I figured I was going to become some kind of squire or something, it was a lot better then being a servant to my father. If I knew then what was about to happen, I might have been a little less happy to be Grengor's servant, but as the black path priests are fond of saying "When we look behind us we see with pefect clarity all of our mistakes, just in time to make new ones". Yeah I don't really get it either.
I tried to remember as far back as I could, just in case I start to lose my mind after living this long (its a possibility, I've never been the sanest even without the threat of the corruption), I was able to remember to around when I was five. It was a fuzzy memory at best, something about my mother, a dark skinned woman with really black hair, I remember her hair because when I saw her last it was the only thing of her that wasn't sickly as she laid on her funeral pyre. My next clearest memory will probably take a few days to go through as there were many parts and it ultimately lead to me leaving the place where I was born (A small island in the bay area between Ronewrath territory and what at the time was The Kingdom of the Red Hand, the Red Hand of course are now no more).
Ok so I was born on the island to my father (A thin slightly dirt colored man who of course smelled ike grease) a small territorial leader of a crappy little trade tribe (we were in a prime position for boats loading up to either area to stop in, get ship supplies before moving on to their final destination). He was the kind of self made rich person who thought everyone should be self made, including his one son (well the one that lived with him, I would come to find my father also "traded" himself frequently and I had a lot of half brothers and sisters). My mother was actually a pirate or so I was told, she had come and gone as she pleased until she died of her illness when I was around seven, I didn't really know her very much, in a way it hurt me back then, but I tried not to let it show. I grew up in the servants quarters of my fathers stickwork hut near the water (Seriously I lived a servant in my fathers own house). My father had two servants: Borla, a light skinned cook who always seemed so exotic because of her skin (everyone else on the island was brown), And Rondo a shortie (oh I forgot to mention there are at least two races of humanoids on this rock, basically shorties and normals, I'm a normal, shorites are of course short there is your brief description, also shorties due to being smaller are usually laborers/slaves to normals, because they are short) cleaner/fixer/everything, Rondo was my Dad's most trusted associate, and Rondo hated the man with every fiber of his short self.
I'd like to say that the servants treated me nicely, but they didn't. I was seen as much of a burden to them as I was seen as a burden to my father (you can see a pattern here I'm sure). Back then I grew my hair out, and it was fire red (ha ha a pyromancer with red hair, you can see why I keep my hair bald and dye my beard grey, well you would if I gave you a description of what I looked like), I was always a tall gangly child, all limb no weight. Which was hard on island life because most of the other people were stockier, I got into and lost a lot of fights early on. Reading/writing was a skill of the elite back then, so I learned none of that, I barely spoke or had any skills other then running (a skill I utilize to this day). The one thing I did have was my magic, I kept it from everyone having seen a prior user in the village be burned alive (and not from his own magical ability), that kind of thing sticks with you as a kid. I practiced in secret, burning things for my own personal amusement (never anything living in case you were worried, just leaves, twigs, the occaisional shoe of a nasty bully, they aren't really alive), I liked to think I was proficient in it, and that one day I would join one of the Red Hand's supply convoys as a guard and leave my father and his greasy smell behind, alas.
I was the ripe age of fourteen when my father drug me out of bed on a sunny day and presented me to someone who smelled worse then he did. I was in my sleeping shorts and bleary eyed, but I could sense this other man in his rough hewn armor and variety of weaponry was not another trade associate of my fathers. The armor looked to be of various animal hides sewn together by a very poor tailorer, the weapons of which I could see three, were all of a different type, one sword, one mace, and one small handaxe. Whoever this guy was, he clearly had seen more combat then just the bullies on the island.
"Well Grengor, this is the boy." That was my name to my father, the boy, or my boy. I think my mother named me Trezlan.
"He seems too skinny Randle." Grengor talked in a husky voice, like he'd spent his life inside smoke filled dens.
"He'll toughen up or he'll die Grengor, you asked me what I had for trade and this it." I had the sudden impression I was being traded (you know after my father directly said that). Grengor grunted and came close, the smell was overwhelming, like body odor combined with cheap liquor, it wasn't so much coming from him as it was an aura. He inspected me like I'd seen my father look over animals. In the end he snorted, snatched me by the arm told me to get my things and that he would be waiting outside. My things in this case were just clothing (never really had toys or anything of note really), my clothing wasn't even good for bad weather as the island never really got that. All the same I remember being excited! I had never liked the island, and this new guy was a warrior of some kind? I fancied myself a warrior as well and this would be my chance. I hit the porch running and Grengor was true to his word waiting for me. He had with him a simple labor animal (like a mix between a horse and an ox, I want to say they called them hoxen, I have no idea what they are called as I haven't seen one of those in years), on it was heaped more gear, I sought to add my simple pack to it but Grengor shook his head and actually took some stuff off it.
"Buddy is mine as are you boy, you'll carry my stuff and your own, if you can't I'll leave wherever you give up." He handed me the heavy whateverthehell it was and made his way for the docks. I followed my burden holding me down, but still kind of happy. I figured I was going to become some kind of squire or something, it was a lot better then being a servant to my father. If I knew then what was about to happen, I might have been a little less happy to be Grengor's servant, but as the black path priests are fond of saying "When we look behind us we see with pefect clarity all of our mistakes, just in time to make new ones". Yeah I don't really get it either.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Religion and Other Flights of Fantasy
You would think in a land surrounded by magic we'd have gotten beyond the concept of organized devotion to "gods". I consider myself a god! With how long I've lived and my general influence on this world I've done more for this place then most of these so called gods anyway! That sounds egotistical, but its not ego if its the truth! On to the religions I've run across. This is by no means a complete list (much like my magic one from yesterday, think of these as the major groups currently openly practicing).
Followers of Fire: Two groups here really, Priests of the Fire God and Servants of the Fire God. Major distinction being that priests are generally magical followers and servants their none magical breatheren. They are a structured group and one of the most popular religions in this world. Both sects answer to a council who makes the majority of decisions for belief. The Fire God they worship has no formal name other then "Fire God" she is the goddess of war and destruction, to serve in their religion is to engage in martial struggle and worship death on the battlefield. She is also associated as a god of revenge (gee what a shock there), common swearing involved with her religion are "*Blank* Five Fires" Denoting their levels of the underworld (the Fire God is said to preside over five fires a place of hellish torment for failing to be strong in combat. By contrast ascendence also involves going to the Five Fires, but instead of being tormented you are the soldiers who keeps the broken fallen in check, its more then a little screwed up).Devout followers seeks to breed often so that more soldiers can be born (seriously their places of worship are like sex clubs with as much interbreeding goes on) and be the best warriors they can be. Typical temples of The Fire God are stone structures with a central fire in the middle and stone pews around (comfort is not really something they care too much about). A normal service is a reading of the Chronicles of Fire (their holy book until printing presses made it more easily printable copies of it were always hand written, and even now finding a hand written copy is a major seller for any devote follower) followed by martial display (male or female the fire god cares not) after that you are released to go about your day. Service is always in the morning though temples are open all day to show your worship or test your strength against one of their clergy. Typical outfit of a Fire God supporter are brown robes, broad sword (no markings), shield with flame incription, and in recent times rifle (in the past this would have been a bow, with upgraded technology they upgraded their methods). There is still variety amongst followers, but for the most part thats their "outfit" of choice. Hair is usually kept martial short (male and female) and all money given to the Church (suckers). Not the worst church in this world, but their are rumors of practicing "sins" (short for Assassin, I guess its better then calls them ass's) who smite enemies the church has found particularly wrong or evil. I have no run across one yet, but I figure its only a matter of time.
The Black Path: Despite the name this is second popular group is actually a peaceful group who believes in the collaboration of all life (hence black a combination of all colors) in guiding the world to happiness. They have no central god or basis of worship other then a belief in all things working together. Fairly strange not to have a central figure in their religion, their main appeal seems to be in how they help others and encourage that help amongst followers (so a religion of suckers really). They also are weird in that they have no holy book or rituals. Followers usually wear a simple black pendant and just seek to be helpful to others. They do have temples where "priests" (used here in the loosest term again as they have no formal ritual or practice) will run down a list of tasks or requests they have aquired from the community and ask their followers to help. Despite this insanity of helping others they are a fairly popular religion and are well regarded by most governments (gee imagine that a group that helps out without being asked well liked by government). There are rumors of dark underpinnings to the religion, but these are mainly made by idiots who hear the name and the nature of the group and surmise that no one could be so selfless without getting something in return (in that I agree, but then again people are stupid and think that selflessness gets them something it doesn't, you all dies the same, you meaning others I live forever). Afterlife is to be returned to the land and your essence spread amongst nature to effectively share your essence forever, they don't have a negative afterlife, as any slight against the black path will get you removed from their religion (so they aren't always super nice).
Anti Magic: There isn't a formal association for this group as they are a loose basis of a lot of different religions and nut jobs (yes I consider them crazy sue me I'm a magic user). Principal belief amongst them is that magic is the work of demons and those who engage in are also demons in human form. They are secretive sometimes hiding under the guise of the black path (which probably also leads to the rumors of the path being evil or at the very least not as wholesome). Though I have run across Fire God believers that carry the same central belief. Generally not supported by all but the most backwards of governments, they are sleeper agents known for a lot of dangerous attacks on magic users and tend to write in the blood of their victims "Demon" near the bodies.
Tribal Elementalists: This group used to be larger before civilization really took off (in a way we still aren't so civilized but I digress), simple belief structure centered around the embodiment of an element and its grounded representative (The Fire God laughably was once amongst the basic elementalists prior to her ascension to supreme god hood, a belief that is considered heresy amongst current followers). Water, Earth, and Wind still have some followers even in modern time, most of them of course are tribal and don't really practice in the same belief structure the other religions do, even avoiding cities all together for the lack of connection to the prime elements. I've always been intrigued by this group especially their belief in personal reps of these gods. Should there be such a thing as a living god on this world (who is not me), it would be quite the feat to bind, or otherwise enslave them (ok so maybe I'm more evil then my neutral nature exudes).
So theres a simple primer on popular religions. By no means and exhaustive list or a full description. I've run across a lot more and perhaps I'll go into some of those as I reach them in this journal which is supposed to be about me but has become about this stupid world and its stupid inhabitants! Tomorrow I'll finally FINALLY go into something about me! And it'll be my glorious childhood, aren't you all lucky! Not really I had a miserable childhood and you'll all suffer with me as I relive it!
Followers of Fire: Two groups here really, Priests of the Fire God and Servants of the Fire God. Major distinction being that priests are generally magical followers and servants their none magical breatheren. They are a structured group and one of the most popular religions in this world. Both sects answer to a council who makes the majority of decisions for belief. The Fire God they worship has no formal name other then "Fire God" she is the goddess of war and destruction, to serve in their religion is to engage in martial struggle and worship death on the battlefield. She is also associated as a god of revenge (gee what a shock there), common swearing involved with her religion are "*Blank* Five Fires" Denoting their levels of the underworld (the Fire God is said to preside over five fires a place of hellish torment for failing to be strong in combat. By contrast ascendence also involves going to the Five Fires, but instead of being tormented you are the soldiers who keeps the broken fallen in check, its more then a little screwed up).Devout followers seeks to breed often so that more soldiers can be born (seriously their places of worship are like sex clubs with as much interbreeding goes on) and be the best warriors they can be. Typical temples of The Fire God are stone structures with a central fire in the middle and stone pews around (comfort is not really something they care too much about). A normal service is a reading of the Chronicles of Fire (their holy book until printing presses made it more easily printable copies of it were always hand written, and even now finding a hand written copy is a major seller for any devote follower) followed by martial display (male or female the fire god cares not) after that you are released to go about your day. Service is always in the morning though temples are open all day to show your worship or test your strength against one of their clergy. Typical outfit of a Fire God supporter are brown robes, broad sword (no markings), shield with flame incription, and in recent times rifle (in the past this would have been a bow, with upgraded technology they upgraded their methods). There is still variety amongst followers, but for the most part thats their "outfit" of choice. Hair is usually kept martial short (male and female) and all money given to the Church (suckers). Not the worst church in this world, but their are rumors of practicing "sins" (short for Assassin, I guess its better then calls them ass's) who smite enemies the church has found particularly wrong or evil. I have no run across one yet, but I figure its only a matter of time.
The Black Path: Despite the name this is second popular group is actually a peaceful group who believes in the collaboration of all life (hence black a combination of all colors) in guiding the world to happiness. They have no central god or basis of worship other then a belief in all things working together. Fairly strange not to have a central figure in their religion, their main appeal seems to be in how they help others and encourage that help amongst followers (so a religion of suckers really). They also are weird in that they have no holy book or rituals. Followers usually wear a simple black pendant and just seek to be helpful to others. They do have temples where "priests" (used here in the loosest term again as they have no formal ritual or practice) will run down a list of tasks or requests they have aquired from the community and ask their followers to help. Despite this insanity of helping others they are a fairly popular religion and are well regarded by most governments (gee imagine that a group that helps out without being asked well liked by government). There are rumors of dark underpinnings to the religion, but these are mainly made by idiots who hear the name and the nature of the group and surmise that no one could be so selfless without getting something in return (in that I agree, but then again people are stupid and think that selflessness gets them something it doesn't, you all dies the same, you meaning others I live forever). Afterlife is to be returned to the land and your essence spread amongst nature to effectively share your essence forever, they don't have a negative afterlife, as any slight against the black path will get you removed from their religion (so they aren't always super nice).
Anti Magic: There isn't a formal association for this group as they are a loose basis of a lot of different religions and nut jobs (yes I consider them crazy sue me I'm a magic user). Principal belief amongst them is that magic is the work of demons and those who engage in are also demons in human form. They are secretive sometimes hiding under the guise of the black path (which probably also leads to the rumors of the path being evil or at the very least not as wholesome). Though I have run across Fire God believers that carry the same central belief. Generally not supported by all but the most backwards of governments, they are sleeper agents known for a lot of dangerous attacks on magic users and tend to write in the blood of their victims "Demon" near the bodies.
Tribal Elementalists: This group used to be larger before civilization really took off (in a way we still aren't so civilized but I digress), simple belief structure centered around the embodiment of an element and its grounded representative (The Fire God laughably was once amongst the basic elementalists prior to her ascension to supreme god hood, a belief that is considered heresy amongst current followers). Water, Earth, and Wind still have some followers even in modern time, most of them of course are tribal and don't really practice in the same belief structure the other religions do, even avoiding cities all together for the lack of connection to the prime elements. I've always been intrigued by this group especially their belief in personal reps of these gods. Should there be such a thing as a living god on this world (who is not me), it would be quite the feat to bind, or otherwise enslave them (ok so maybe I'm more evil then my neutral nature exudes).
So theres a simple primer on popular religions. By no means and exhaustive list or a full description. I've run across a lot more and perhaps I'll go into some of those as I reach them in this journal which is supposed to be about me but has become about this stupid world and its stupid inhabitants! Tomorrow I'll finally FINALLY go into something about me! And it'll be my glorious childhood, aren't you all lucky! Not really I had a miserable childhood and you'll all suffer with me as I relive it!
Friday, January 14, 2011
The Magic of the World
Ok so yesterday I introduced the concept of magic as a principal. Today I'll go over the types of magic, and their frequency in the world. Magic is the most dangerous force in this world, those who can use it are as dangerous to themselves as they are to their enemies. To be able to wield magic you need to have ability (aside from Necromancy which is ritual magic and can be taught though there is a belief you have to have natural ability with magic prior to learning necromancy to be able to learn it in the first place, I myself have never tested this theory as training someone else to be a necromancer is just about the worst idea I've ever heard!) for most people magical ability spawns up at a very young age, and unlike say being extremely smart (of which I am) magical ability is a bit of a death sentence.
Why you may ask? Well other then being able to do incredible feats with relatively nothing (like say set someone on fire), you are also subject to the corruption. See using magic is utilizing a destructive force and hoping not to get burned, burned in this case being disfigured by the corruption and going insane. No one exactly knows how the corruption works, its mainly on a sliding scale of using magic for prolonged displays of power. Say igniting candles in your room, very minor display and you could probably do it all day no problem. Igniting an entire army of men? Most likely to damage you in a way that would be immediate, painful, and potentially fatal (if not for you, for those around you when you go insane, insanity by corruption is not the drooling nitwittery of the lower classes, instead its a murderous rage fueled by your magical powers, a lot like a forest fire).
There are Four major type of magical users:
Shooters: One of the most common types of magical powers, able to utilize one elemental force (or in extreme cases two) with some propensity, most are either fire or earth based, with a rarer subsection being wind or ice (I haven't done the research why wind and ice are less common, perhaps the nature of the land I inhabit? like in colder climes fire is more rare and ice more prevelant?). I'm a member of the shooter type of magic, outside of my ritual necromancy I'm also a pyromancer (two great tastes that go awful together).
Bleeders: These are a nasty set of people, basically natural born necromancers without the ability to steal the life they are taking. Unlike shooters, bleeders abilities are purely offensive and for the most part once a person is identified of this school they are either put to death or locked up (worse then death). Their powers work on ripping the lifeforce from those around them, I have once witnessed this used in a helpful manner (a powerful bleeder was a healing woman in a local village, she would "bleed" the infections out of people, this was a rarity and even then she hid her work behind a mask of being the other type of magic user) but for the most part a bleeder in adult hood is some twisted corruption maniac. They are rarer then shooters but still sadly way too prevalent.
Healers: The second most common magical type, able to repair life force of others at the cost of their own (so it has to be used sparingly not only out of fear of the corruption but also out of extending themselves and dying). A misconception of the magicless is that skilled healers can bring back the dead, which is just foolery, to do such a thing would certainly kill the healer, fixing cuts and breaks are hard enough, which is why traditional medicine and herbery is still practiced and improved.
Shifters: Shifters are the most rare and most dangerous of all magical users. Their power is to melt into the ether of this world and reemerge elsewhere. I've also heard of shadow/daylight shifters who can completely dissapear into the dark/light and remerge in other connected darkness/beams of light. I don't know if they are an actual subtype of shifter or just shifters who learned their powers with some kind of mental block (like I once knew a fire user who thought he could only wield it with a wand, it was hilarious how inept that belief would be). Bleeders are often given the benefit of the doubt and allowed to prove themselves dangerous, shifters are not. Their power is too prone to the corruption, and a corrupt teleporting crazy is not something anyone would ever ever want. Thankfully they are very very rare, I personally only came across the aftermath of a shifter once, and never the actual shifter himself.
Those are the four major types of magic, there are other lesser types, and even within each school you can either be a major user or a minor one (I personally am quite proficient with flame, I've met other fire shooters who can barely light tinder). It is possible to get better at magical use, but as I said the corruption makes it dangerous to attempt.
Necromancy is not a school by itself, again as its ritual based (though with proficiency you don't need the rituals, like I have forgotten most of the early ones I started out with and can use necromantic magic with frightening ease). Much like the mistaken belief that healers can raise the dead, neromancers also lack this ability, traditional necromantic magic is more of a soul cannnibalism. You take life to extend your own (its how I have lived all these years) unfortunately this life usually has to be very much still ticking for it to be worth anything (much like trying to start a fire, if you take someone at the end of theirs you gain very little, which is not to say I haven't done that too, because a hundred small snacks can still fill you up, yes I know thats horrible). Part of this soul cannibalism is also viewing into their life as you take it, it can be maddening, but also insightful. Like say you "ate" someone who was an author, you'd gain an insight into writing (something I've clearly not done based on my really sloppy writing). It can be really habit forming the thrill of new experiences, another reason for necromancies danger. Which is not to say that necromancy is all bad, you can also act as a conduit for healing (taking life from one person to give it to another), I have done this a couple times in the past, although usually not to the person I was healings knowledge (most people have this silly moral quandry about taking life to save their own, idiots).
So there you have it strange person who knows nothing of the magic of this world. A bit longer then I would have liked, but it again is necessary. I can't really go on about how I had to deal with four shooters and have you thinking they were all carrying fire arms (which are at this time very real technology has caught up to magic, though when I was younger this was not the case). Also I hope I've given you a slight insight into the dangers of magic and necromancy, so you'll have a proper fear for the man whose journal you are reading should I still be alive.
My next entry will deal with my least favorite aspect of this world religion, and hopefully the last one before I finally get to the point of this silly journal that being me!!! Seriously I've spent more time explaining the mechanics of thing like some kind of strange instructor then being a self centered person, you know how hard that is for me?
Why you may ask? Well other then being able to do incredible feats with relatively nothing (like say set someone on fire), you are also subject to the corruption. See using magic is utilizing a destructive force and hoping not to get burned, burned in this case being disfigured by the corruption and going insane. No one exactly knows how the corruption works, its mainly on a sliding scale of using magic for prolonged displays of power. Say igniting candles in your room, very minor display and you could probably do it all day no problem. Igniting an entire army of men? Most likely to damage you in a way that would be immediate, painful, and potentially fatal (if not for you, for those around you when you go insane, insanity by corruption is not the drooling nitwittery of the lower classes, instead its a murderous rage fueled by your magical powers, a lot like a forest fire).
There are Four major type of magical users:
Shooters: One of the most common types of magical powers, able to utilize one elemental force (or in extreme cases two) with some propensity, most are either fire or earth based, with a rarer subsection being wind or ice (I haven't done the research why wind and ice are less common, perhaps the nature of the land I inhabit? like in colder climes fire is more rare and ice more prevelant?). I'm a member of the shooter type of magic, outside of my ritual necromancy I'm also a pyromancer (two great tastes that go awful together).
Bleeders: These are a nasty set of people, basically natural born necromancers without the ability to steal the life they are taking. Unlike shooters, bleeders abilities are purely offensive and for the most part once a person is identified of this school they are either put to death or locked up (worse then death). Their powers work on ripping the lifeforce from those around them, I have once witnessed this used in a helpful manner (a powerful bleeder was a healing woman in a local village, she would "bleed" the infections out of people, this was a rarity and even then she hid her work behind a mask of being the other type of magic user) but for the most part a bleeder in adult hood is some twisted corruption maniac. They are rarer then shooters but still sadly way too prevalent.
Healers: The second most common magical type, able to repair life force of others at the cost of their own (so it has to be used sparingly not only out of fear of the corruption but also out of extending themselves and dying). A misconception of the magicless is that skilled healers can bring back the dead, which is just foolery, to do such a thing would certainly kill the healer, fixing cuts and breaks are hard enough, which is why traditional medicine and herbery is still practiced and improved.
Shifters: Shifters are the most rare and most dangerous of all magical users. Their power is to melt into the ether of this world and reemerge elsewhere. I've also heard of shadow/daylight shifters who can completely dissapear into the dark/light and remerge in other connected darkness/beams of light. I don't know if they are an actual subtype of shifter or just shifters who learned their powers with some kind of mental block (like I once knew a fire user who thought he could only wield it with a wand, it was hilarious how inept that belief would be). Bleeders are often given the benefit of the doubt and allowed to prove themselves dangerous, shifters are not. Their power is too prone to the corruption, and a corrupt teleporting crazy is not something anyone would ever ever want. Thankfully they are very very rare, I personally only came across the aftermath of a shifter once, and never the actual shifter himself.
Those are the four major types of magic, there are other lesser types, and even within each school you can either be a major user or a minor one (I personally am quite proficient with flame, I've met other fire shooters who can barely light tinder). It is possible to get better at magical use, but as I said the corruption makes it dangerous to attempt.
Necromancy is not a school by itself, again as its ritual based (though with proficiency you don't need the rituals, like I have forgotten most of the early ones I started out with and can use necromantic magic with frightening ease). Much like the mistaken belief that healers can raise the dead, neromancers also lack this ability, traditional necromantic magic is more of a soul cannnibalism. You take life to extend your own (its how I have lived all these years) unfortunately this life usually has to be very much still ticking for it to be worth anything (much like trying to start a fire, if you take someone at the end of theirs you gain very little, which is not to say I haven't done that too, because a hundred small snacks can still fill you up, yes I know thats horrible). Part of this soul cannibalism is also viewing into their life as you take it, it can be maddening, but also insightful. Like say you "ate" someone who was an author, you'd gain an insight into writing (something I've clearly not done based on my really sloppy writing). It can be really habit forming the thrill of new experiences, another reason for necromancies danger. Which is not to say that necromancy is all bad, you can also act as a conduit for healing (taking life from one person to give it to another), I have done this a couple times in the past, although usually not to the person I was healings knowledge (most people have this silly moral quandry about taking life to save their own, idiots).
So there you have it strange person who knows nothing of the magic of this world. A bit longer then I would have liked, but it again is necessary. I can't really go on about how I had to deal with four shooters and have you thinking they were all carrying fire arms (which are at this time very real technology has caught up to magic, though when I was younger this was not the case). Also I hope I've given you a slight insight into the dangers of magic and necromancy, so you'll have a proper fear for the man whose journal you are reading should I still be alive.
My next entry will deal with my least favorite aspect of this world religion, and hopefully the last one before I finally get to the point of this silly journal that being me!!! Seriously I've spent more time explaining the mechanics of thing like some kind of strange instructor then being a self centered person, you know how hard that is for me?
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Welcome to Crazy Town
Call me Trezlan, because thats my name and I figured if you should call me something you should go off my first name. I'm a Necromancer (not to be confused with a necrophile as I don't sleep with the dead, though based on previous relationships it might have been a more fulfilling time!), and I have lived over three hundred years. Why am I writing a journal? Because I recently had a brush with death closer then I'd really like to ever come and the thought of my genius, beauty, and amazing ability going unremarked is more terrifying then anything (as you can tell I'm super modest). I'm really hoping no one ends up reading this but myself as it will be an admission of a lot of wrong doing and guilty concience stuff that if I am still alive could be used to have me burned at the stake (they still do that, saw one the other day terrifying stuff).
First off in case of some kind of creepy super monster from beyond and you don't understand where I live, or what this land is like I'll go through the basics as this is just the first of what will hopefully be many many more entries. I currently live in a city known as Rosetia, lovely place great train station close to the water, but not close enough that we get that chilly fog that settles in when you live on the coast. I own a small antiquities shop that deals in just about everything, from high priced clothing, to fire arms and everything in between. On the side I also deal in magical artifacts, though with the current government thats more dangerous then its sometimes worth (as you can probably assume from my admission of necromancy and if your culture does not have it, we that being us as humans in this place use, imbue, and live with magic everyday). Magic is currently outlawed/restricted by the government known as "The Guard" (simple title really they should have used something much more extravagant), you're allowed to still use your natural gifts as they don't want to round us up and kill us (yet), but you must register with the government and in the case of dangerous deadly magic (just about all of it) you are forbidden from its use aside from self defense (sadly Necromancy is forbidden entirely for reasons I'll eventually get into). The major reason for this was a recent war that established the Guard as a power in this territory and was fought primarily as magic users versus none magic users, with The Guard representing the non magic users and ultimately being the victor. I was "involved" in this war, but not as a soldier for either side, at best I was profiteering, but again I'll get into that more as I go along.
Rosetia is on the main land mass of this area, there are two major goverments in this area. The Guard which is at best a shattered barely above tribal council government attempting to reign in a large land mass area after a devastating war that left them desperate to restablish basic functions to major cities. To the south is a more established King based government, the Ronerawths, which is where I was originally from until recent exile for actions again I'll get into later (that seems like so much of my history, but its difficult to get three hundred years of incidents into one simple entry!). The Ronerawths were not directly involved in the recent conflict, other then supplying both sides weaponry. The Ronerawths occupy the southern part of this mass seperated from the the lands of The Guard by a large wall simply known as the divider, they have less land then Guard, but are way more developed socially and infrastructurewise as they recently did not come out of a massive conflict that destroyed most of their lands and unleashed horrific monsters that still stalk the land! (again I'll get into that later I promise)
The land mass these governments occupy is not the only one on this spec of water and earth. Though I can't speak much for the other areas, as despite walking all over this main mass known as Lotaraia, I've never had the courage to brave the long sailing or crazy teleportation magic to visit other lands. One of these days I'll include a crude map of Lotaraia so as better to illustrate the geography, but right now my crude description of this world will have to suffice.
So there is a brief description of our current government and land mass (brief here being relative of course). Tomorrow I will go into more depth on magic and it current uses, the people who live in this blighted land, a long loving description of myself, and perhaps begin the purpose of this silly journal in the first place that being to chronicle how I rose up from a lowly aristocrats son to become a powerful necromancer who runs a sundries shop, wait that doesn't sound like I really moved up in the world. Uhh yeah. Till Tomorrow!
First off in case of some kind of creepy super monster from beyond and you don't understand where I live, or what this land is like I'll go through the basics as this is just the first of what will hopefully be many many more entries. I currently live in a city known as Rosetia, lovely place great train station close to the water, but not close enough that we get that chilly fog that settles in when you live on the coast. I own a small antiquities shop that deals in just about everything, from high priced clothing, to fire arms and everything in between. On the side I also deal in magical artifacts, though with the current government thats more dangerous then its sometimes worth (as you can probably assume from my admission of necromancy and if your culture does not have it, we that being us as humans in this place use, imbue, and live with magic everyday). Magic is currently outlawed/restricted by the government known as "The Guard" (simple title really they should have used something much more extravagant), you're allowed to still use your natural gifts as they don't want to round us up and kill us (yet), but you must register with the government and in the case of dangerous deadly magic (just about all of it) you are forbidden from its use aside from self defense (sadly Necromancy is forbidden entirely for reasons I'll eventually get into). The major reason for this was a recent war that established the Guard as a power in this territory and was fought primarily as magic users versus none magic users, with The Guard representing the non magic users and ultimately being the victor. I was "involved" in this war, but not as a soldier for either side, at best I was profiteering, but again I'll get into that more as I go along.
Rosetia is on the main land mass of this area, there are two major goverments in this area. The Guard which is at best a shattered barely above tribal council government attempting to reign in a large land mass area after a devastating war that left them desperate to restablish basic functions to major cities. To the south is a more established King based government, the Ronerawths, which is where I was originally from until recent exile for actions again I'll get into later (that seems like so much of my history, but its difficult to get three hundred years of incidents into one simple entry!). The Ronerawths were not directly involved in the recent conflict, other then supplying both sides weaponry. The Ronerawths occupy the southern part of this mass seperated from the the lands of The Guard by a large wall simply known as the divider, they have less land then Guard, but are way more developed socially and infrastructurewise as they recently did not come out of a massive conflict that destroyed most of their lands and unleashed horrific monsters that still stalk the land! (again I'll get into that later I promise)
The land mass these governments occupy is not the only one on this spec of water and earth. Though I can't speak much for the other areas, as despite walking all over this main mass known as Lotaraia, I've never had the courage to brave the long sailing or crazy teleportation magic to visit other lands. One of these days I'll include a crude map of Lotaraia so as better to illustrate the geography, but right now my crude description of this world will have to suffice.
So there is a brief description of our current government and land mass (brief here being relative of course). Tomorrow I will go into more depth on magic and it current uses, the people who live in this blighted land, a long loving description of myself, and perhaps begin the purpose of this silly journal in the first place that being to chronicle how I rose up from a lowly aristocrats son to become a powerful necromancer who runs a sundries shop, wait that doesn't sound like I really moved up in the world. Uhh yeah. Till Tomorrow!