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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.

Kol Korran
2015-09-16, 12:04 AM
I liked what you've wrote so far! A nice opening, would hope to see more!

Mrs Kat
2015-09-16, 04:21 PM
I liked what you've wrote so far! A nice opening, would hope to see more!

Hey, thanks!


2. Sulis

I remember the first time I saw Sulis. It was the lake that I saw; Avernus' lake, where the Aventi train the Knights of the Pearl, and it was a droplet of dazzling blue in a field of green. Coming down from the Pardic mountains, I thought maybe I'd find my spirit animal there. There's still time, you know. I still might.

The town itself, the human town, is built on the southern shore of the lake. It's smaller than Port Last, but bigger than anything my people have ever seen fit to build, all of it severe, angular stone and crawling with people as if every day were a festival.

We arrived in Sulis that evening, and I suggested that we eat together. Gamma complained, saying that he had no need of food, but Phoebe was more enthusiastic, turning herself into a portly, elderly looking gentleman.
"Come on," she said. "We'll eat at the nicest place in town."
After a long conversation with a somewhat confused maître d', who both noted our travelworn and injured appearances and recognised that the duchy of which Phoebe claimed to be a minor baron did not exist, we resigned ourselves to eating at the greasy spoon down the street.

It was an all-you-can-eat place, stocked with local seafood and charging a gold for a seat. Offended, Gamma refused to pay and instead stood over our table, glowering down at us as we are. I'll say this for the Knights of the Pearl- all that holy water makes for really good shrimp.

On the table behind us, a middle-aged priest with the eight-pointed star of Kord on a pendant round his neck was engaged in a pie-eating contest with one of the local steadholders.

The farmer was the bigger of the two, but faltered in his pie-eating first, his pace slowing until finally he leaned back in his chair, face pale.

The priest was standing by the door as we headed out, and we congratulated him on his win. He introduced himself. Nien.
"You fancy a round? Think you could beat me?" He looked me up and down.
I frowned "Maybe another time? You just ate a lot of pie, so it wouldn't be fair."
"Yeah," he said. "You're right. It wouldn't be fair. Hang on." And saying this, Nien punched himself in the stomach and vomited into the gutter. "Ok," he said, wiping his mouth. "I'm ready."
I couldn’t really argue with that.

I won’t lie. The pie-eating was not easy. I mean, I like pie, but I’d already eaten a platter of fried shrimp, and I wasn’t particularly in a pie-eating mood. But this was clearly some kind of human cultural ritual in which I was invited to participate, and my new friends were watching.

So I ate the pie. Nien's gaze was steely as he matched me, bite for determined bite. The locals were still gathered around, and making bets on who would win, but their voices were a faraway murmur to me. I focused on the pie. Fork to mouth. Chew and swallow. It was almost mechanical.

By the third pie, I was faltering. My eyes were watering as I choked the stuff down, the pastry tasteless to me now. But my opponent wasn't doing much better, his pace slowing. I forced myself onwards. Or, I thought I would.

The first taste of vomit was sharp at the back of my mouth. I swallowed it back, keeping my eyes on the pie.
“What’s the matter?” Nien pushed. “Losing heart?”
“No,” I grunted. “I’m good.”
And I felt my gorge rise, in a way that I couldn’t swallow down this time. I choked a little, and saw Nien’s eyes flash with what I assumed to be triumph. It wasn’t.

I’ll spare you the detail, but the next thing I knew, we were covered in each other’s vomit, and Nien was shaking with laughter. Presumably this was some kind of human bonding ritual.
“Ah, close one.” Nien grinned. “Maybe next time.”
I scraped the worst of the vomit from my chest. “Maybe.”

Behind us, the farmers who had been betting were arguing about which of us had won.

One of the punters rolled up to Nien, slurring something about cheating. Nien’s expression darkened, and he punched the man in the face.

It was as if someone had rung a bell for fighting to begin. People at the bar who had been talking peacefully moments before were on their feet and brawling. Orum was taking on two of the farmers by himself, and I found myself standing on a table, facing down two friends of the man that Nien had punched.

Phoebe backed off, frightened, and Gamma ran to fetch the watch, leaving the three of us to the fight. I remember that I hit a guy in the head with a tray of fried shrimp, and Nien holding a guy’s arms back for Orum as Orum worked the gut, but not much else.

At the end, it was only the three of us standing, the rest of the eatery in disarray and most of the clientele missing a few teeth.

Nien muttered a few words of healing magic over the room, and people stopped bleeding so much. He tossed a pouch of gold on the counter in front of the cowering kitchen staff.
“That should pay for the damages,” Nien said, with a nod to the trashed buffet. He glanced back at Orum and I. “You guys should come round to mine sometime,” he said. “Talk about Kord. I reckon you’d be a good fit.”