Mrs Kat
2015-09-13, 04:26 PM
None of us started as evil. We were just kids, y'know.
There was me, the psychic warrior from one of the shifter tribes in the northern wastes. Orum, the psion from one of the monasteries in the Pardic mountains where they make men into elan. Gamma, a prototype warforged, created as a cleric of St Cuthbert as part of some grand experiment by the church. And Phoebe, the changeling given up to the orphanage in Sulis as a baby. She wanted to be a writer. Like I said, we didn't start out evil.
We met on the road, heading up from Port Last to Sulis, a spa town just south of the Pardics. Got paid to guard a caravan bound to the Greyson family’s summer estate. Gamma had lost his priestly minder in the trip over the ocean, and was headed to Sulis in the hopes of finding a chapeau, and the rest of us were out for cash.
The journey took the better part of a day, and it was late afternoon when I spotted the pit that had been dug into the road and called for us to stop. Dead horses were impaled in the hole, and there were deep drag-marks leading into the nearby woods. The steward identified the horses as belonging to the cart that had preceded ours, also headed for the Greyson’s estate, and offered us a little danger money if we would just investigate. Leaving him on the road, we followed the trail.
We found the cart in a clearing a few hundred yards into the wood, safely out of view of the road. It was overturned, its contents spilling out onto the leaf-litter, though there was little of value remaining. A guard in Greyson livery lay dead on his side, his head caved in by a heavy treasury chest.
And then the pack of goblins returned to the site of their crime, eye-to-eye with us as they came to the edge of the clearing.
Their leader stepped forwards, the largest of them by far, a menacing gleam in his eye.
“Stand down,” he said. “We have you outnumbered.”
We paused, uncertain. Could we really take on a half dozen goblin bandits, plus however many were hidden in the trees behind them? Gamma, however, was having none of it. He charged forwards, shouting something about justice, and the smaller goblins pelted him with sling bullets. By the time he reached the goblin leader, he was badly damaged, the stones leaving furrows in the exposed wood of his arms. I ran forwards, spear in both hands, and threw myself to the ground behind the ruins of the cart to avoid the hail of stones that came. Orum returned fire with mind bullets, forcing some of them to take cover, but Gamma had taken on more than he could handle, that much was evident. I had to save him. I called on the animal spirit inside of me and took on the aspect of the tiger. I ran to Gamma’s side as he teetered back, the goblin crowing in victory. His triumph was short-lived as I rent his flesh with my teeth, and he cried out.
Goblin, it turns out, tastes similar to pig.
“Back!” the goblin leader cried, clutching his bloodied side as he fended me off with his sword. “Fall back! You’ve not heard the last from Groink the handsome!”
We helped Gamma back to his feet as the goblins retreated. The cart was beyond repair after crashing into a pit and being dragged through the woods, but we salvaged enough of it to construct a sled to carry the body and the chest back to our employer.
The steward thanked us, but seemed worried. Lord Greyson’s elderly chamberlain had been with that cart, and we had seen no sign of him in the clearing. Perhaps, he said, once we reached Sulis, we could investigate for him?
Flush with the gold he had given us, we agreed to help him all too readily.
There was me, the psychic warrior from one of the shifter tribes in the northern wastes. Orum, the psion from one of the monasteries in the Pardic mountains where they make men into elan. Gamma, a prototype warforged, created as a cleric of St Cuthbert as part of some grand experiment by the church. And Phoebe, the changeling given up to the orphanage in Sulis as a baby. She wanted to be a writer. Like I said, we didn't start out evil.
We met on the road, heading up from Port Last to Sulis, a spa town just south of the Pardics. Got paid to guard a caravan bound to the Greyson family’s summer estate. Gamma had lost his priestly minder in the trip over the ocean, and was headed to Sulis in the hopes of finding a chapeau, and the rest of us were out for cash.
The journey took the better part of a day, and it was late afternoon when I spotted the pit that had been dug into the road and called for us to stop. Dead horses were impaled in the hole, and there were deep drag-marks leading into the nearby woods. The steward identified the horses as belonging to the cart that had preceded ours, also headed for the Greyson’s estate, and offered us a little danger money if we would just investigate. Leaving him on the road, we followed the trail.
We found the cart in a clearing a few hundred yards into the wood, safely out of view of the road. It was overturned, its contents spilling out onto the leaf-litter, though there was little of value remaining. A guard in Greyson livery lay dead on his side, his head caved in by a heavy treasury chest.
And then the pack of goblins returned to the site of their crime, eye-to-eye with us as they came to the edge of the clearing.
Their leader stepped forwards, the largest of them by far, a menacing gleam in his eye.
“Stand down,” he said. “We have you outnumbered.”
We paused, uncertain. Could we really take on a half dozen goblin bandits, plus however many were hidden in the trees behind them? Gamma, however, was having none of it. He charged forwards, shouting something about justice, and the smaller goblins pelted him with sling bullets. By the time he reached the goblin leader, he was badly damaged, the stones leaving furrows in the exposed wood of his arms. I ran forwards, spear in both hands, and threw myself to the ground behind the ruins of the cart to avoid the hail of stones that came. Orum returned fire with mind bullets, forcing some of them to take cover, but Gamma had taken on more than he could handle, that much was evident. I had to save him. I called on the animal spirit inside of me and took on the aspect of the tiger. I ran to Gamma’s side as he teetered back, the goblin crowing in victory. His triumph was short-lived as I rent his flesh with my teeth, and he cried out.
Goblin, it turns out, tastes similar to pig.
“Back!” the goblin leader cried, clutching his bloodied side as he fended me off with his sword. “Fall back! You’ve not heard the last from Groink the handsome!”
We helped Gamma back to his feet as the goblins retreated. The cart was beyond repair after crashing into a pit and being dragged through the woods, but we salvaged enough of it to construct a sled to carry the body and the chest back to our employer.
The steward thanked us, but seemed worried. Lord Greyson’s elderly chamberlain had been with that cart, and we had seen no sign of him in the clearing. Perhaps, he said, once we reached Sulis, we could investigate for him?
Flush with the gold he had given us, we agreed to help him all too readily.