Fated End - FR Campaign Journal, written by the DM

[meto30]

As I had mentioned in another thread, after having some turmoil with a player who now has left, I decided to keep a journal and recieve playground input. I had been toying around with the idea of keeping a novelized journal for a long time, ever since player TOM suggested it and HFS seconded the motion. I think this will be a good way for me to share my experiences, gain insight on problems, obtain tips on what to do, and also recieve critique on my writing.

Due to the size of the overcampaign: the Fated End, some explanation is in order. The overcampaign is the term we use to refer to the whole thing, all the campaigns and plots put together. The title of the overcampaign is the Fated End. It is divided into campaigns, each about as along as a classic D&D campaign, and connected in story with each other and the overcampaign. The basic traits of the campaign is summarized in this spoiler block.

Campaign Setting: the Forgotten Realms, with partial homebrew
version used: D&D3.5, with partial homebrew
starting year: 1372 DR, partial homebrew moves some historical events forward of this time
books used: Player’s Handbook (PHB), Player’s Handbook II (PHB2), Dungeon Master’s Guide (DMG), Dungeon Master’s Guide II (DMG2), Monster Manual 1 through 4 (MM1~4), Draconomicon (DRA), Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting (FRCS), Player’s Guide to Faerûn (PlyGF), Magic of Faerûn (MAG), Dragons of Faerûn (DrF), Races of Faerûn (RAC), Complete Warrior (CW), Complete Arcane (CA), Complete Adventurer (CAd), Complete Scoundrel (CS), Complete Mage (CM), Complete Divine (CD), Complete Champion (CC), Oriental Adventures (OrAd), Heroes of Battle (HoB), Champions of Valor (CoV), Champions of Ruin (CoR), Lords of Darkness (LoD), Lords of Madness (LoM), Underdark (UND), City of Splendors (City), Expedition to Undermountain (UNM), Power of Faerûn (PoF), Monsters of Faerûn (MoF), Book of Exalted Deeds (Exalt), Book of Vile Darkness (Vile), Epic Handbook (Epic), Minatures Handbook (Mini), Silver Marches (SM), Lost Empires of Faerûn (LEoF)*note that acronyms are the ones we used in our campaign, and thus do not reflect the more widely accepted ones*
level range: began at level1, plan to progress into the 30+ range
peculiarities: The players don't each control one character. They have a large number of characters divided into multiple parties. We decide which party to play before a session. This is why the players and their PCs are listed seperately.

Our players roster changed membership several times. They are listed below in another spoiler block. Listed below each player entry is the list of their PCs.
TOM - known as the party's preeminent RPer, also simply called Faelar.
Faelar Wood - Hero of Fate(#1), 16 year old (as of current campaign time) human boy N rogue/fighter who was raised by an elf foster-father.
Rhea, daughter of Perikles - Heroine of Goodwill(#4), young human female CE fighter/dervish who hails from the region of Chessenta. Has some personal issues that keeps following her everywhere she goes.
Guillaume de Gaulle, pious Templar of Tempus, male human CN cleric/warpriest. Born an orphan in Cormyr, he joined the church of War when he was young and remained a devout Tempusian all his life.
Ramas Odesseiron, a Red Wizard of Thay and nephew to Homen Odesseiron, Tharcion of Surthay. Male human LE enchanter/red wizard. Keeps a slave female human LN Thayan Knight named Umara.
Rose Merrymar, halfling female CG sorcerer who likes experimenting the new spells she gains on baddies.
Gorok "Scarface", half-orc CN barbarian mercenary who is near the end of his contract. Has a mohawk hairstyle which he belives is the source of his strength.
Alfonso the Mauler, human LG fighter from the nation of Amn. Hates Trolls with a passion, and possesses a unique maul that prevents trolls it hits from regenerating.
Akira Inari, half-youkai(fox) (homebrew) female CN ranger/ayakashi (homebrew) who came all the way from her home region of Ozakura to find a place without prejudice against youkai where she could settle down in peace. Is in a love relationship with Chedizan Zykal.
Stedd Evenwood, human male LG monk/paladin of Ilmater, god of Mercy. He took a vow to never gain a material posession in his life.
Kate, human female CN rogue who has been dominated by a slaver and has never been seen since.
KBK - known as the party's detective, due to his huge contributions to the deductive reasoning that is central to our campaign. Also called the party dwarf-master for creating so many dwarfy dwarfs.
Link Hyrule Greatfields - Hero of Time(#2), a native of Shadowdale just like Faelar, he showed great talent in both arcane studies and martial training, and recieved training from Elminster the Sage and Storm Silverhand. human male NG fighter/wizard/spellsword/eldritch knight. Currently is on a task set by Elminster to collect a series of artifacts called the Master's Tools.
Squee "Spleen" Schistcoffers, a dwarf underdark explorer who was trapped inside the Temple of Time until Link rescued him. Dwarf male N rogue/combat trapsmith.
Gorgutz, mountain orc male CN barbarian who doesn't speak a single language other than Orcish and refuses to learn one. Wants to make enough money and fame to become the most influential orc in the Sword Coast.
S'lloc Baermmon, drow male CN rogue, professional thief and occassional adventurer. Partners with Nerril, another thief.
Riet Diethard, human male CN bard, editor of a Waterdhavian newspaper WNN, section-chief for the adventurers secion. Has made it a point in his life to find a worthy adventurer and 'produce' him/her into a world-famous hero.
Taeghen Dlardrageth, fey'ri male CE necromancer. Very little is known about him.
Diego "el Zorro" de la Vega, human male CG rogue/swashbuckler. The name says it all; he currently is embroiled in a game of chase with an elusive serial killer in Baldur's Gate.
Maximillian Leinke, human male CG bard who is investigating the political landscape of Free Unther on behalf of a mysterious employer.
Haelfan Bracegirdle, halfling male N rogue. Originally named "Bolgers Proudfoot", he swore revenge after Blackstaff destroyed his livelihood and forced his old master, Han Fung, into suicide.
Kashim, aka Urz-7, human male LN scout/dread commando who is part of the Harper special operations and strike team Tuatha de Danaan.
Traf Whitebeard, dwarf male LG cleric/morninglord of Lathander. A devout cleric of the Morninglord, Whitebeard always strives to bring the god of Dawn's light to the dark corners of the world.
Arwen, mysterious tiefling female CN sorcerer who has hired Ragna to do her bidding and accompany her in her adventures throught the Dalelands.
Ragna the Airborne, human male CG rogue/duskblade/swashbuckler and an expert Griffonrider. After losing his griffon in a Zhentarim attack, he works for Arwen to make enough money to buy another griffon.
Sommdrin Stavenson, human male NG druid. Likes animals and talking to animals. Takes up adventuring to solve the recent troubles in the Dalelands.
John Greenlake, human male LN ranger/dread commando, a Night Ranger of Command 2 Nighthunter, and a loyal soldier of the Empire of Chessenta.
Nemesis, human male LG paladin/dragonrider/cavalier of Helm. Commands the Army of Esmeltaran, a private army with the goal of liberating Esmeltaran, and after that destroy the Sothillisian Empire, which is locked in war with Amn.
Baelog Gloren, dwarf male LG fighter, a mercenary who fights using twin warhammers that are family heirlooms.
Esperia Greeneye, feytouched female LG paladin/favored soul who seeks to reduce suffering in the world through the dogma of Eldath, goddess of Peace.
Orfa the fiery, human female CN sorcerer who specializes in fire spells. She is very young for her skills, only a child, but her utter lack of conscience and sense of right and wrong causes her to be very cruel at times.
Urka "Lightning Blade" Al'Zihiir, air genasi female N transmuter/fighter/swiftblade who fights with such speed and acumen that her allies have taken to calling her 'the lightning'.
Restiina La Chiose, human female LG rogue, young mistress of one of the largest merchant houses in Amn, and the financial sponsor of the Army of Esmeltaran.
Taelrund Tealere, elf male CN diviner, renowned historian and archaeologist who is an expert in ancient Netherese lore.HFS - known as the party's tactical commander, responsible for many victories. Also responsible for many defeats, because he becomes the party leader by default in so many cases.
Vhibals ibSet TarSkuld - Hero of Secrets(#3), one of the few actual aasimars of Set's bloodline, heralded as Son of Set by the clerics of the King of Serpents. Vhibals is currently traveling across Faerun, with his trusty slave/right-hand-man Imguld ibImhald TarSkuld by his side, gathering arcane knowledge while running from the crusaders of Horus-Re who want him dead. Aasimar male CE sorcerer.
Atsad Baermmon, drow male LE evoker/sorcerer/ultimate magus. One of the Talons of Tchazzar, an elite military unit tasked with protecting the Emperor of Chessenta.
Uesugi Kenshin, human female LG samurai/rogue/fighter. A Daimyo of Ozakura, but ran away from her own country for some reason and came all the way to Faerun. Possesses an intelligent sword.
Hypatia Eph'Tet, human female NE evoker/red wizard. Obssesed with Ramas Odesseirion. Also obssessed with arcane power.
Chedizan Zykal, drow male N ninja/assassin and a Teukiir agent. Is in a love relationship with Akira Inari.
Rasputin, human male CG bard/evangelist. Impotent, as he lacks certain organs. Preaches the creed of Lathander to everyone around him.
Dirandu Kishavhela, character dead. HFS wants to revive him at some point in the future.FMT - superb RPer, and also the conscience of the party, not very comfortable with evil PCs and NPCs. Excellent melee combatant, but doesn't do very well when controlling spellcasting characters.
John Fullmoon - Hero of Valor(#5), a half-elf male LG fighter/cavalier who was born in the faraway region of Koryo. He came to Faerun looking for his elven father, and he intends to find some answers.
Femto Mirnerv, a human male LG fighter who fell to toril after a dimensional travel mishap. Doesn't know much about the world, but he wants to help the people of Sespech fight against the Chessentan invaders nonetheless.SOZ - our newest player! Has most D&D experience in the group (more than I do, at least!) and I believe will contribute greatly in teaching some optimization basics to the other players.

DRM - now left. was good with RPing (within a narrow range of personalities) but performed very poorly in combat.
BIN - now left. had some very quirky and eccentric ideas for character backstories. Khun Khun Thar is one of his creations.
FNX - left after playing three sessions.

The PCs who die will be removed from the list. This is because so many died that listing them would make this post very difficult to read due to length.

Here is the campaign Synopsis, the same one I gave players when they began their first sessions. Sets the stage for the campaign, with the proper mood, like. Also contains basic information on what the overcampaign is all about.
It is said that in the very beginning, it was War thath was first to be created. Light and Darkness battled for supremacy, which was the First Conflict, through this conflict was separated the material from the void, and thus was begun life. The essence of Life is to Fight, to make War.

- excerpt from the Creed of War, holy text of the Church of Tempus

Greetings, I am Meto, your Dungeon Master.
Before we begin the campaign briefing, allow me to describe the game world for a moment.

You will begin play in the continent of Faerûn, on the planet Toril, within the campaign setting the Forgotten Realms. The one fast rule about the Realms that you should keep in mind is that ‘nothing is nonexistent’. If you imagine something, there is a pretty good chance it already exists somewhere in the setting in some form. If for some reason it doesn’t exist, the Realms provides tools to implement those new things into the world, so it no longer is ‘nonexistent’.

This world resembles ours in so many ways. European-style knights clash with Mongolian-style horse archers on the field of battle, Legionnaires form Testudo and break through a hail of arrows, grand viziers make puppets of kings and fortify their private residences, a prince driven mad with vengeance kills his own uncle the king who succeeded his father, merry men who fight against injustice raids the corrupt sovereign’s tax collector, and a religious army declares a crusade and massacres savages. This world is in a constant circle of Fight, Kill, and Subdue, on infinite repeat. You probably know where this discussion is leading.
Yes, the key aspect of our campaign is ‘War’.

Even now, many wars, large and small, sweep through the land.
Cormyr is suffering from a national disaster, Waterdeep is hot in argument over the tax raise issue, Mulhorand’s Pharaoh is still debating the future of Unther, Amn is split in half, and Chessenta is rising as a new empire.
Dear player, you are facing such a world. You may be puzzled by all the pain and sorrow, but I promise you, player, I solemnly declare in my voice as the DM, that what you behold is only a glimpse of things to come, a calm before the storm, a silence before the plunge. Dear player, what you behold is Peace.


Such a time will come.
Such a time will come that the newborn baby remains mute and silent out of its mere survival instincts alone.
Such a time will come that neither the bread of tomorrow nor the blanket of tonight will concern you as much as the very air you breathe today, this very moment.
Such a time will come when the humblest man looks up to the heavens, and fearing for the worst, pleas for salvation to his deity in desperate prayer,
Joined by all the world’s lords
All the world’s sages
All the world’s men of power and wealth,
Voice in unison, aligned as one, desperately looking for solutions, and yet finding none.

Heed me, player! Soon a single, ultimate war shall cover the lands with its darkness. No one knows what form this conflict will take, or if it truly can be defined as ‘war’. No one knows whom will fight whom, for what cause, to what end, with what means, until what conclusion, unto what result. Nothing is known, except for the obvious truth that it will decide the fate of the Realms.

Such is the world you have set foot in.
You do not know when, nor whether it is far or near in the future, but eventually the moment of truth arrives and the World enters War. What must you do in such a world? What task do you face?
The obvious.
You must Save this World.
To you, the player, a Hero amongst the mortals, one fate, no, one duty, is given.
Save this World, in Whatever Form, with Whatever Means.

To fulfil this duty, there are hurdles you must overcome.
First, you must learn what threat is befalling the Realms.
Second, you must learn the exact nature of the said threat.
Third, you must learn what evil plots the realization of said threat.
Fourth, you must learn what allies you can gather to fight the said threat.
Fifth, you must learn what method can stop the said threat.
Sixth, you must learn how to carry out the said method.
Seventh, and finally, you must execute the realized method.

In short, you are being asked to create matter from nothing. This is because, frankly, the information given to you at the beginning of the campaign is... null. You must learn more.
Here are some hints that will prove invaluable in solving this mystery.
Cooperate amongst your fellow players.
Share your findings, and your thoughts.
Think together!
As a rule of thumb, the evidence I give you through adventures are dolled out only once in the entire overcampaign. Distribute the ‘case load’ amongst yourselves and figure out what they all mean. If you fail to fulfill a certain set of conditions within a certain time limit, the world WILL end.
Keep this in mind.

Watch over your fellows. Look at their faces. Look closely. They are your companions.
You, and the world, has no hope unless they. help. you.

As a final word of advice, allow me, the DM, say this:
Beware the Empire of Chessenta, at the center of our campaign. Beware of its military.
Be Wary of its Emperor, Tchazzar.

The Overcampaign: the Fated End is divided into multiple campaigns and individual arcs. The organization is as follows.
Major Campaigns:
C1: Splendors of the City
C1a1: Savants of the Dark Tide
C1a2: Hand of the Unseen
C1a3: Blackstaff

C2: Utternorth
C2a1: Neverwinter Nights
C2a2: Grand Treason
C2a3: Jewel of the North
C2a4 : Grand Conspiracy

C3: Strength, Honor, Integrity
C3a1: City of Insanity
C3a2: Faces of Imperialism
- C3a2a: Greens of the Vilhon
- C3a2b: Church of the Dragon Queen
- C3a2c: Elf Hates You
- C3a2d: Coastal Warfare
C3a3: Talons of Tchazzar
C3a4: Invasion of Threskel

C4: Colours of Ambition
~classified, as players haven't progressed this far!~

C5: War of a Thousand Sails
~classified, as players haven't progressed this far!~

C6: Throne of Madness
~classified, as players haven't progressed this far!~

C7: War to End the World
~classified, as players haven't progressed this far!~Minor Campaigns:
Faces of the Same Coin - Amn campaign
Recipe for Catastrophe - Moonsea, Dalelands, Sembia campaign
March of the Purple Dragons - Cormyr campaign
Keys to the Gateway - Westgate campaign
Land of a Hundred Castles - Tethyr campaign
the Harp is Broken - Harpers campaign
Kingdom of Faith - Damara, Vaasa, Rashemen, Thesk campaign
Underdark - Underdark campaign

Here's a brief 'table of contents' of the progress of the campaign up to this point.
Released Books
Book 1: As All Stories Begin...
--- Standing Stone Massacre
--- Shadowhunter
--- The Scarred Dale
--- Freelancer
--- Gnome, the Bard
--- Storm
--- Faelar goes South

Book 2: Exodus from Home
--- Exodus
--- the Great Desert Causeway
--- Murghôm
--- Exodus II
--- Red Wizards of Thay
--- Seprith, and Barsith of Seprith
--- Voyage West

Book 3: The Price of Their Lives
--- Far from Home
--- If the Price is Right
--- Thugs of Priskul
--- Sothillisian Empire
--- 200gp per ear!
--- Twin Towers of the Eclipse
--- That which happened before
--- Legacy of Bhaal

Book 4: The Red Emperor
--- Father of Chessenta
--- Blessed of Gond
--- Rise a Talon
--- Imperial Creed
--- “Elfroaster”
--- Relics of the Past
--- Nobles and Rogues
--- Embodiment of Death

Book 5: The Merchant Kingdom
--- Link to the Past
--- Smuggling for Riches
--- Capturing Sheiz
--- The Black Network
--- the Silver Raven
--- Cleric of War
--- “It is Darker Under the Lamp”
--- Disaster of Ordulan

Book 6: Path Through Fire
--- Sent on a Mission
--- Pirates of the Inner Seas
--- Gateway to the West
--- the Black City
--- Escape from Westgate
--- the Black Road
--- Forest of Wyrms

Book 7: Shadows over Dwarvenhome
--- Diplomatic Envoy
--- Treason!
--- Lake of the Outcasts
--- Rebellion!
--- Value of Royalty
--- Conquest of the Great Rift
--- Chosen of Gond

Book 8: The City of Splendors
--- Adventurer’s Paradise
--- To Catch a Lich, go to the Catacombs
--- Return to a Home Much Changed
--- Archmage of Waterdeep
--- What lurks beneath
--- City Life, Aye
--- Savants of the Dark Tide
--- Deadwinter Day

Book 9: The Sands of Waste, Ruin, and Death
--- Sands of Waste
--- Struggles of Daggerdale
--- Sands of Ruin
--- Ancient Wonders and Marvels of Netheril
--- Sands of Death

Book 10: Elminster’s Task
--- Reprimanded
--- Homework, part I
--- Robbing the Brigands
--- Homework, part II
--- Necromancer of Lake Sember
--- Homework, part III
--- Snakes of the Grinding Gulf
--- The Master’s Legacy

Book 11: Mysteries of Westgate
--- Meeting of Strangers
--- Reconnaissance by Fire
--- Arena Underworks
--- The Coalition
--- The Count of Cages
--- Laying Low

Book 12: Reign of Insanity
--- Siege of Luthcheq
--- Reign of Insanity
--- To Bypass a Wall
--- Agents War
--- Cult of Entropy
--- To Topple a Wall
--- Battle of Luthcheq
--- A Dictator’s End

Book 13: Warmford Nights
--- Denizens of Neverwinter Wood
--- A Goblin Problem
--- Baghamundee
--- Eldreth Veluuthra
--- Battle of Warmford
--- Fallout

Book 14: Rain of Gold
--- Unexpected Charges
--- Legal Advice
--- Rhea the Gullible
--- It rains Gold in Baldur’s Gate
--- Rhea the Fugitive
--- Revelations

Book 15: Tales of a Templar
--- Forced March
--- Abbey of the Sword
--- Desertion
--- Night of Two Dragons
--- Private Matters
--- Pursuing Gsendrennax
--- Return of the Warmaster

Book 16: Hand of the Unseen
--- Han Xin’s Research
--- Wizard Maelstrom
--- The Breakthrough
--- The Lords of Waterdeep
--- City of the Dead
--- Blind in Desperation
--- Unseen Demise

Book 17: Faces of Imperialism
--- The Foreigners
--- Elf Hates You
--- Commissar of War
--- Peaceful Solution
--- Breaking the Blade
--- State of the Empire

Book 20: Rangers of the North
--- Rangers of the North
--- Sins of the Son
--- Apprehension
--- Clearing the Somnialle
--- Evermoors
--- In Service to the Alliance
--- Family Business

Book 21: The Singing Sword
--- Ides of Ches
--- Merchant of Arretium
--- Sword Awakens
--- Making Amends
--- I am She that Dances in the Moonlight
--- In the Mistress’ Footsteps

Book 22: Grand Treason
--- Clandestine Diplomacy
--- The Elven Three
--- Demonfey of Elvenport
--- The Silver Dove
--- Hellgate Keep
--- Magusführer
--- Accusations of the Dove

Book 23: Splendors of the City
--- Alone
--- False Charges
--- Government Agents
--- Champions of the Innocent
--- Truth in Black
--- Paragon of Virtue
--- Blackstaff


List is still growing...*disclaimer*: The contents of this table of contents may change as the novelization changes the length of some portions of the campaign for dramatic effect.


As our campaign has been in progress for more than a year, and we had many sessions in that time, I have decided to write the journal in two portions, the novelization portions and the DM's notes portions. The novelizations will basically be just that, novelizations, and I really don't expect anyone to read them... but I'll keep on writing nevertheless. The DM's notes will be written in the style of journals I've seen operating in the forums, and I want to use them to recieve critique and advice on our campaign, especially on how I run it from behind the shield. Our campaign includes many eccentricities, but I don't think they'd matter much.

[meto30]

THIS IS A NOVELIZATION PORTION.

Book 1: As All Stories Begin...
- Chapter 1: the Standing Stone Massacre

part 1

. . . . Faelar couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Their words simply failed to register as being real in his mind. How could this be happening? He was sure all he had to do was concentrate on the vision of his old home, the flames cracking in the fireplace, and he would wake up.
. . . . “You heard the man. Pay him or face consequences,” said the one with broken teeth. Plan wasn’t working, maybe the image of dad roasting pheasant on that fire will.
. . . . “Don’t go hard on the boy, Tim, he’s too wet behind his ears, he just doesn’t know how the real world works,” the one with big shoulders told his comrade. Plan B failed. Plan C. Did I have a plan C? wondered Faelar as he looked around and reexamined his current situation.
. . . . He was inside the woods, a few minutes walk from where the caravan was stopped for the day. The trees here were as thick as they were near his home, south of Shadowdale. As to be expected, as Cormanthor is the king of all Forests, or so his dad used to proclaim whenever he began his bedtime stories, where the leaves were green and elves were wise and numerous. The density of the vegetation prevented any glimpse of the road, and the silence of his immediate surroundings suggested that the same was true of sound. He was cut off, both literally and figuratively, from the rest of the people on the caravan. He, and the two brutes who were leaning down upon him, were alone. More precisely, Faelar was alone.

. . . . Time to wake up, Faelar told himself. He adjusted his feet to put more weight into the other leg. His father constantly warned him that of all things to be feared, the most dangerous was fear itself. He took a deep breath, then plunged in on the broken-tooth man. His experiences and his training, five years of hunting in the wilderness to sustain himself all kicked in as in one smooth motion Faelar grabbed the body about as twice as heavy as he is by the shoulder and threw the man down on the ground. The bigger man was too surprised to react in time, and Faelar used this to his advantage by pulling out his dagger and depositing the whole blade into the man’s eye socket. The big, almost ogre-like man who moments ago was so sure of his superior position now screamed like a baby. Faelar took no chances. As it was when fighting bears, if blood was already drawn, then he needed to see things to the bitter, bloody end. Putting both hands on the hilt, Faelar twisted the weapon upwards and pulled the blade in a circular motion. Confirming that the body went lifeless through the corner of his eye, Faelar returned his attention to the smaller one.
. . . . “Ouch, you little s-”, then he noticed his friend. “Oh sweet Chauntea, Druz!”
. . . . Faelar did not speak. He merely thrust his dagger.
. . . . The wound cut deep. “Arghh! Oh no, I’m bleeding?! Druz, answer if you ain’t dead, what’s happening!” shouted out the one who was still alive, struggling to his feet as he crawled on all fours away from Faelar. “I didn’t, no, please, no more! I’m merely trying to m-” Faelar threw his dagger straight into the the man’s face, and the man’s voice was no longer heard.
. . . . His breath was still quick, his brain in overdrive, his heart beating rapidly as if in a chase. Faelar told himself to calm down, as the danger has passed. After a few moments, it worked. “Rest in peace, ...uh... Tim,” said Faelar. Dad taught him to never disrespect the dead, even those who were enemies. The first step is remembering their names properly, and Faelar heard the other one call this thing ‘Tim’. He looked across to the bigger one, lying helplessly on the ground, blood bursting out of the wound Faelar created moments ago. He pulled out his other dagger, approached the body, and slit the throat. Take no chances, one of the most important rules of survival in the wilderness. Dad taught him many things. “Rest in peace, Druz.”

. . . . Faelar looked around. His two daggers were completely blood-soaked. So was his armor. He hoped blood didn’t get between the leather lames, or he would have to spend hours disassembling the whole thing and a few more scrubbing the bloodstains off. His bow was still on his back, unstrung, his arrows in his belt, along with other things he was carrying around that would amount to a small list if he catalogued them. Searching the two bodies added a few more things to that list. Faelar knew he would have to come up with an explanation about the blood. Maybe a bear attacked him? No, he would have scratches then. Perhaps it would be easier if he told the truth. The caravan master seemed a nice man for a Sembian, he would understand.
. . . . Then out of the blue, like a fell beast pouncing on its prey, the realization took him. He killed two men, two living persons who only two minutes ago were alive and breathing. With his own hands, he ended life. This was very different from the things he killed before, they were animals, game that he had hunted to bring to the dinner table. The two men were... men, human beings like himself, who despite their obvious intent to rob him were equally persons, with their own lives, memories, families, friends and enemies, as was Faelar. ...Yes, as was Faelar. He had killed persons for the first time in his life, and yet he had felt nothing strange about that fact in the deed and two whole minutes afterward... it was all unreal, like something he was reading through a book, it felt so natural moving to and fro, ending their lives, indeed so natural that the Faelar then couldn’t be the same Faelar as he. What has he done? Faelar’s mind was racing, wondering what happens now, what to tell the caravan master if he inquired as to the where- abouts of the two missing passengers, how the hell could I have been worried about what to do about the bloodstains, when he had TWO LIVES NOW GONE to worry about instead?!
. . . . Ten minutes Faelar spent walking in circles, his mind pacing faster then his feet. Then he remembered what dad used to say. “The world is a dangerous place, Faelar” dad told him once when he had to kill a rabbit by himself, and he couldn’t do it. “Not that it’s a terrible place, no, it is far from terrible. It is a beautiful place, but it is beautiful not because everything is pretty and peaceful, but because everything is connected.” His dad then showed him a few bones that were all that’s left of their lunch. “These used to belong to a doe. A living doe jumping about as she would like, until a hunter, I, shot an arrow through its head and took its life. On that moment her flesh became venison, which I cooked over our fire and had for lunch. This is a killing, there can be no doubt about that. Does this make the event terrible? From the viewpoint of the doe, maybe. But in our point of view, we are doing it to prepare ourselves a nice, tasty meal.” Faelar didn’t understand, so his dad continued.
. . . . “You see, we live our lives as best as we can. So did the doe. The point is, we are not alone, we live in a world full of other beings, and our lives are interconnected with theirs, wherein things that happen in our life are related to things that happen in their life, sometimes more directly then usual. We are not solitary beings, but beings of relationships, and sometimes that relationship is that of predator and prey... and we continue breathing because of that fact. We would not survive if we didn’t go on this way. We would starve, and then we would be dead. Is death more beautiful than life, Faelar? No, it isn’t. Death is never pretty. But some deaths allow life in others, and thus death can be meaningful; there can be meaningless deaths, of course, and those are to be mourned, but when death serves is noble purpose, that is, allowing life, then it becomes valuable, a sacrifice to be respected.” Dad now looked into Faelar’s eyes. “Do not dishonor those sacrifices by allowing your life to wither away, Faelar. Know that you live by the spent lives of others. Survive. Live. When the time comes for the cycle to progress anew, and your life is called upon to make that sacrifice, then you will not look back and fulfill your final noble purpose. But until then, Faelar, you must survive.”
. . . . And he survived.
. . . . It was not a perfect thing, the world he lived in. Faelar now faced that truth. The irony that two men died to keep one boy alive was testimony to that fact. It was a simple relationship of predator and prey, and to prevent himself from becoming prey, he turned the table around, and hunter became the hunted. He took another deep breath. Okay, his hands stopped shaking now. His calm was back, the calm he always maintained before setting out to hunt. Time to get back to his life.
. . . . The fact that he returned from shock to calm perhaps a bit too fast on this day wasn’t realized by Faelar until much, much afterwards.

. . . . Faelar did a mental check. Today was... 7th of Flamerule, year 1372 by the Dales Reckoning, 35 days since his father died, 25 days since his 15th birthday, 9 days since he set out from home. He only wanted to go back home to the warm chair by the fire where dad would be reading books, but dad’s gone now, he is a grown man (newly proclaimed as adult), and more than that, he was an adventurer now. He decided to become one after thinking about his dad’s will very, very carefully. Link helped him decide on the matter. Link was always a great help, like a big brother, always there when you needed him. He was also very smart, learned in both ancient lore and arcane secrets, so what he says must be right. How can Link be wrong? Of all the people who came to dad’s funeral, only Link had the sensibility to talk to Faelar, who until Link came was sobbing softly in a chair next to dad’s coffin. He’s the one who helped him find the caravan to tag along, too, so that Faelar didn’t have to walk the whole distance alone. It was a big merchant caravan owned by some Sembian trading company, headquartered at Archendale. He asked Link how a company based in the Dalelands could be a Sembian company, and Link gave an explanation involving a lot of new words that he frankly didn’t understand a bit, but he decided Link was right, as usual. It didn’t matter anyway. The master was a kindly young man, a bit overweight and worried about it so that he always walked alongside the wagons to lose weight, telling Faelar stories of how he finally got his own caravan train and was going to prove to his father how he’d grown by making a successful first run. The other people were also nice, teaching Faelar how to approach a horse, how to tie the harness and other nice things. He had just learned, of course, how some people weren’t so nice, but those things happen, Faelar guessed. Same with apples. Some don’t taste as good as the others.
. . . . He took the letter out of his bag and read it again. He ran his finger through the name written at the bottom, Dolloth Wood. It was a name Faelar remembered only vaguely. All he knew was that uncle Dolloth owned an overseas trading firm in Scardale that handled expensive stuff like carpets and things made out of glass. Well, Faelar was going to learn more about that company soon, because he was going to work there. He was surprised when he received the letter about a week ago, lamenting the death of his father and then offering him a job so that Faelar had something to do, now that he was alone and was an adult, who had to look after himself. According to the letter, the job was nothing Faelar couldn’t handle, given his upbringing (what Dolloth meant by Faelar’s “upbringing”, Faelar wasn’t so sure). Link told him that adventuring can be expensive at first and a large starting fund would help greatly, so Faelar decided to take the offer. That was why he was traveling south with the caravan, tagging along all the way to Featherdale, where he could then walk to Scardale. Faelar put the letter back inside his belt pouch and started going through possible explanations he could offer the caravan master.

. . . . It was about halfway to where the caravan was supposed to be that Faelar noted there was a problem. The area to the front was brightly lit, and bits of orange light, that of flames, could be seen on the leaves. The road was very bright... too bright. Then he smelled the smoke, piercing the scent of blood that was almost nauseating until now. He sped up. As a native to the region, he had no problems navigating the thick grass and trees of his home country, the Dalelands. It took him a little more than a minute to reach the edge of the forest, where he saw the caravan. Or what was left of it.
. . . . The whole train was on fire. The wagons were on flames, every single one of them, along with everything that was on them, crates, chests, barrels, lumber, and... people, piled up like some kind of funeral pyre atop each wagon. Then there were some on the ground, piled up and burning just like the rest. The horses were burning too, many apparently killed while still tied to the harnesses. Faelar ran up and down the length of the burning caravan in disbelief. This train was composed of, like, a hundred people, all very nice people (maybe except a few bad cases) who went about their lives honestly and diligently. He had been traveling with them for only about a week now, but he could picture many of their faces, laughing, smiling, enjoying their well-earned meal after a hard day. Whoever did this, whoever killed these people and built these monuments, they deliberately did it so that the faces were all visible, some of the less-burned faces still filled with shock and fear. He could also see the children amongst the other bodies, younger than even he was, those who were still to go through their rite of adulthood. Beyond to the northeast, above the columns of smoke. the Standing Stone was all-too-visible, rising tall into the evening skies, lit up like a torch from all the flames, the letters carved into its face glittering in the night. He couldn’t erase the thought that the Stone looked a lot like a tombstone now.
. . . . The caravan, on the other hand, was a tomb, there was no doubt of that. Everyone was dead, dead as the two brutes he just killed, every bit as dead as his dear dad, their bodies lifeless, their faces lifeless, the caravan lifeless, all this death, why, why all this death. The survival instincts that allowed Faelar to slay the two men were gone now. Only Faelar remained, alone and cold despite the heat. The whole circle of life thing his dad taught him didn’t make sense any more, not when so many died for so little meaning, no, meaning was not the point, the point was that so many had died, simple as that. No longer the cold-blooded hunter he was a few minutes ago, Faelar was almost knocked senseless, as he gazed upon the burning wreckage in which everyone was dead... or so thought Faelar until he heard the noise.
. . . . A man crawled out from beneath one of the wagons. The back of his cloths were burnt brown, the end of his cloak tattered and singed, and his left arm was visibly hurt with a long gaping wound from some slashing weapon, dripping blood. His black hair, mottled in what seemed to be the remains of a braid, was also soaked in and dripping blood, but the color and amount told Faelar that the blood wasn’t the man’s. Then Faelar saw the man’s face, and recognized the man as one of the mercenary guards hired to protect the caravan. Faelar immediately ran to the wounded guard and helped him stay on his feet. The man did not speak, but merely hobbled towards the forest, aided by Faelar; only when he reached deep into the woods to approximately where Faelar first spotted the orange light did he open his mouth.
. . . . “Thank you,” said the guard. His voice was raspy, his breath feint but fast. “You must be... Faelar Wood?”
. . . . “How do you know my name?”
. . . . “You introduced yourself back... on your first night with the caravan,” answered the man, although he had to stop after the word ‘caravan’ to cough up some blood. “Do you by any... chance, have some he... healing potions in your possession?”
. . . . Faelar made a quick mental check through his inventory. “No. I’m sorry.”
. . . . “Don’t be,” added the man, then he gestured towards the ground. “Let me down.”
. . . . After Faelar helped him lie down on his back, the guard gave him instructions in a series of oft interrupted, gasping sentences to help him stabilize the man’s wounds and prevent further blood loss. He was pretty pale by the time Faelar was finished, but he was also conscious, and the wound on the arm seemed contained. The guard, now speaking better, asked Faelar to pull him up again and together make way eastwards. Faelar complied, although now his mind was craving for answers, such as what exactly happened to the caravan. The guard seemed content to simply walk for the time being, however.

. . . . After an hour or so, Faelar started feeling the weight of his body becoming heavier with each step, and noticing this, the guard had Faelar let him down on the ground. As neither brought any camping gear with them, the man offered the cloak he was wearing as a makeshift blanket, and suggested they sleep close together to preserve body heat; since it was in the middle of summer, Faelar agreed that would be very effective. Faelar started gathering stones to start a fire, but the guard seemed convinced someone will see and come, which he apparently considered as a very bad thing. Faelar didn’t want to argue with a wounded man and stopped making the fire, as he wished.
. . . . The night never felt so long in his life. Faelar made sure the cloak-blanket covered the guard completely, as he was the one needing most coverage from the cold, and cursed his decision not to take Link’s magic cloak when the older boy offered it; according to Link, the cloak protected the wearer from the elements both hot and cold, and even magically produced food and hot water (or tea) for nourishment. As it was nearing full moon there was some light to see by, but that was no comfort for Faelar, as the events of the day had shook him greatly and the man next to him seemed to be in dire health. What had happened to the caravan? Who in the world could be of such evil nature as to slaughter so many innocents and pile their corpses up into some sick display, clearly intended to be viewed by passers-by? The baggage wasn’t even touched, no, they were rather burned exactly the way they were, so this was no highwaymen robbery. The scope of the whole, vile deed left Faelar speechless. Another thing that bothered him was that, had not those two big men lured Faelar away from the caravan intending to rob him, he might have been killed and burned, just like the others. Had those two men saved his life? If so, has he killed the two men who just saved his life, however unintended that was? Questions plagued him constantly, keeping Faelar awake for some hours before he could find something that at least resembled sleep, allowing him to return to a sharp state of mind if not a refreshed state of flesh. At least the wounded guard didn’t make any noises. And no animal decided to attack.

[Daftendirekt]

Just below text color is the indent tag button.


Just put {indent} {/indent} around it, but with [ ] instead of { }

[meto30]

Just below text color is the indent tag button.


Just put {indent} {/indent} around it, but with [ ] instead of { }

Thanks for the info :smallsmile:
Trying to find a way to indent the beginning sentence only, though. :smallfrown:

[sonofzeal]

Thanks for the info :smallsmile:
Trying to find a way to indent the beginning sentence only, though. :smallfrown:
Might I suggest white text? Right to the left of "sizes", you can set text colour. White text is effectively invisible unless you highlight it.

[meto30]

Might I suggest white text? Right to the left of "sizes", you can set text colour. White text is effectively invisible unless you highlight it.

worked perfectly! Thanks, zeal! :D