By Heracles, I must be getting close.
Why is it that, in this land, Heracles is not content to speak to me when I am awake? Shouldn't the gods have to sleep sometime?
But no, he has to wait until I'm trying to rest to send me messages whose meaning is so obscure as to be nearly meaningless.
Still, I must accept this as a gift from the god. Perhaps not the most useful gift he has given me, but a gift. And perhaps one less perplexing than the other.
I can still feel the rage of the god coiled in my gut. It is the very rage that I was trained to avoid at all costs, so that I could avoid the errors of Heracles. Now, I learn that avoiding the rage was all children's rules, things that are told to novices in the true way of Heracles.
The true secret I now know. The cleric tells me that, once strong enough, the true follower of Heracles can control the rage. It is only taught after years of careful training, after being absolutely sure that one is ready to use the rage in ways that will only cause benefit, and no harm.
Yet I have this ability. Even lacking all training, I have it.
I must be favored of Heracles indeed. I of course must endeavor to use the gift wisely, but it would be foolish to squander the gifts that the gods have given me. This, at least, is a gift whose purpose seems clear! This is a vision in the daylight, as when Heracles first called me, a gift with only one purpose.
For now, I must return to sleep, and hope that perhaps Heracles sends some clearer message this time.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Alcander's Fantastic Voyages Part 7
News travels faster than I do, it seems.
I was met by the cleric on the road home. He heard what I had done, and feared for my life should I return home.
He had my lion skin with him, my club and my lantern. He told me that they were now mine, and that none could command that I give them up.
He gave me the spell of atonement for my vows. It seems that, in Heracles's eyes, I have done what is right.
But my vow of obedience was troublesome, now. Those that I would obey have betrayed me.
The cleric said that he had the answer to this, too, but it would required proper initiation.
This he did. I cannot write of what occured. The cleric said that the true Rites of Heracles had been driven underground my order, except for a small group of Heracletians who had fled to Crete. These vows he taught me.
He taught me that I owe my vow to no man, save him that I find worthy.
I offered him my obedience, but he declined, saying only that I must be gone from Greece, and quickly. The city which I rescued can serve as a bastian against the order, but the order is still strong and I am unready.
He said, too, that if the comrades I left behind failed in what they attempted, then any success in Greece would be meaningless. I would not argue with him, so I agreed to go.
He gave me a note to take with me. He told me to go to the nearest port and find a ship sailing for Point of Origin.
The note was the greatest surprise of all. It was from my father, assuring me of safe passage on any of his ships, and commanding his men to head wherever I asked them.
There was a letter from him within the note, too. That he brought the rites back from Crete.
That he brought my club and skin out from the order. That he could not tell me his true intentions, for as a paladin I could not lie for him, and secrecy was needed.
By his lies, I have my freedom and my passage to where I must be.
It cannot be honorable, I think, but can it be good?
I will have much to think about on the voyage.
I can only hope that, some day, I will be able to set foot in my home land again. Perhaps this time I can liberate more than a single city.
Next time, I must face the rest of the order.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Alcander's Fantastic Voyages Part 6
The battle is over.
We won.
Not the Knights of Heracles, but the men of this town.
It makes me more sure than ever of something of which I had been unsure. The spirit of Heracles is no longer with those who claim to be his knights. But it is with me, thanks to that cleric.
By the gods, I don't even know his name, but he may have saved me. I feel closer to the god than ever before, though I would rather it had come a different way.
In the order, I was always taught that the rage of Heracles was a curse, that to grow closer to Heracles I must avoid the anger which was his birthright. I was lied to.
The battle was close. The Heracletians came upon us in the morning, and many of those who needed to guard the town were not yet awake. Men ran to rouse them, but we needed something to slow the Heracletian advance until they were awakened.
I volunteered. Several men agreed to go with me, to buy the city some time. It was suicide, but we went.
I stood in the morning sun and let the men advancing see what I wore. The very sight made some men stumble, and then we charged.
I cannot recount fully what happened. I felt something come over me that I had never felt before. A rage, a blind fury that these wretched imposters would claim to be stewards of Heracles. There was no more honor, no sense of justice, only vengeance on behalf of the god.
Vengeance I got. When I came to my sense, the skin I wore was soaked in blood, and the men of the city were victorious.
Of the men who led the charge, only I was still alive.
The Knights of Heracles have been defeated, and this city may now stand as a bastion for those who would fight against the false Heracletians. It is a great victory.
And a great victory for me. For I have tasted the wrath of Heracles, and I have found it to be mighty.
I wonder, though, precisely what it means.
For now, I return to meet with the cleric again.
Perhaps he will have answers for me.
We won.
Not the Knights of Heracles, but the men of this town.
It makes me more sure than ever of something of which I had been unsure. The spirit of Heracles is no longer with those who claim to be his knights. But it is with me, thanks to that cleric.
By the gods, I don't even know his name, but he may have saved me. I feel closer to the god than ever before, though I would rather it had come a different way.
In the order, I was always taught that the rage of Heracles was a curse, that to grow closer to Heracles I must avoid the anger which was his birthright. I was lied to.
The battle was close. The Heracletians came upon us in the morning, and many of those who needed to guard the town were not yet awake. Men ran to rouse them, but we needed something to slow the Heracletian advance until they were awakened.
I volunteered. Several men agreed to go with me, to buy the city some time. It was suicide, but we went.
I stood in the morning sun and let the men advancing see what I wore. The very sight made some men stumble, and then we charged.
I cannot recount fully what happened. I felt something come over me that I had never felt before. A rage, a blind fury that these wretched imposters would claim to be stewards of Heracles. There was no more honor, no sense of justice, only vengeance on behalf of the god.
Vengeance I got. When I came to my sense, the skin I wore was soaked in blood, and the men of the city were victorious.
Of the men who led the charge, only I was still alive.
The Knights of Heracles have been defeated, and this city may now stand as a bastion for those who would fight against the false Heracletians. It is a great victory.
And a great victory for me. For I have tasted the wrath of Heracles, and I have found it to be mighty.
I wonder, though, precisely what it means.
For now, I return to meet with the cleric again.
Perhaps he will have answers for me.
Alcander's Fantastic Voyages Part 5
The Order of Heracles seeks to control Greece.
This is madness.
I knew, of course. But I knew the same way that most know that a life of drinking, gambling, and women will destroy a man. It's easy to say, it's easy to know, but it is quite another thing to find oneself lying face down in the gutter with a burning need to see a cleric and smelling of vomit and wine.
Heracles showed me the truth that time, and he shows me it now.
The cleric made it clear. He tells me that there are more things that he can tell me, things that I need to know. But too many Heracletians have proven themselves to have forgotten the true path, so he must first be certain of me.
The Heracletians seek to control Greece.
This is no longer simply an idea. There are many city-states that oppose them, of course, and so far the order has tried to deal with them by coercion and promises. But there are still hold outs.
This time, they've sent an army.
A small army, mind you, but it is a small city-state.
Once again, my legs ache in the service of Heracles. Once again, I have found myself rushing to rouse a populace from their slumber, to prepare to defend themselves from a menace.
I never would have imagined the menace would one day be my own order.
I had to go the long way around, avoiding the main roads. The Heracletians have gained such power that only a Heracletian can travel openly. The cleric gave me a plain lion skin to wear, and a plain club. It is not my own, but at least it is not the gem-encrusted shit my superiors gave me. So long as I avoided the army, none questioned me. And where they did, I told them plainly that I was a Knight of Heracles, and that I was sent on a mission by the god himself. Because, damn it, it is still the truth. I will not call myself by what I am simply because it has been spoiled by imbeciles who have forgotten the face of their god.
Even taking back roads, a man on foot travels far faster than an army, even a small one. I reached the city ahead of the army.
I found the city in the midst of preperation, but they thought they had months yet before the battle would be joined. They know better now.
As I sit here, they prepare furiously, knowing that they may die when the battle comes. They are resigned to their death, if it must be, rather than bowing before these false Heracletians.
They may worship other gods, but never have I seen such valor, not even among my fellow knights. They prepare to fight and die, knowing that they die for the right.
Soon, it will be known that I stand against the Heracletion Order, because I must. The priest advised me to warn the city and be away, but I cannot.
It will be my great honor to die here among these brave souls.
Even if it means fighting my own order.
This is madness.
I knew, of course. But I knew the same way that most know that a life of drinking, gambling, and women will destroy a man. It's easy to say, it's easy to know, but it is quite another thing to find oneself lying face down in the gutter with a burning need to see a cleric and smelling of vomit and wine.
Heracles showed me the truth that time, and he shows me it now.
The cleric made it clear. He tells me that there are more things that he can tell me, things that I need to know. But too many Heracletians have proven themselves to have forgotten the true path, so he must first be certain of me.
The Heracletians seek to control Greece.
This is no longer simply an idea. There are many city-states that oppose them, of course, and so far the order has tried to deal with them by coercion and promises. But there are still hold outs.
This time, they've sent an army.
A small army, mind you, but it is a small city-state.
Once again, my legs ache in the service of Heracles. Once again, I have found myself rushing to rouse a populace from their slumber, to prepare to defend themselves from a menace.
I never would have imagined the menace would one day be my own order.
I had to go the long way around, avoiding the main roads. The Heracletians have gained such power that only a Heracletian can travel openly. The cleric gave me a plain lion skin to wear, and a plain club. It is not my own, but at least it is not the gem-encrusted shit my superiors gave me. So long as I avoided the army, none questioned me. And where they did, I told them plainly that I was a Knight of Heracles, and that I was sent on a mission by the god himself. Because, damn it, it is still the truth. I will not call myself by what I am simply because it has been spoiled by imbeciles who have forgotten the face of their god.
Even taking back roads, a man on foot travels far faster than an army, even a small one. I reached the city ahead of the army.
I found the city in the midst of preperation, but they thought they had months yet before the battle would be joined. They know better now.
As I sit here, they prepare furiously, knowing that they may die when the battle comes. They are resigned to their death, if it must be, rather than bowing before these false Heracletians.
They may worship other gods, but never have I seen such valor, not even among my fellow knights. They prepare to fight and die, knowing that they die for the right.
Soon, it will be known that I stand against the Heracletion Order, because I must. The priest advised me to warn the city and be away, but I cannot.
It will be my great honor to die here among these brave souls.
Even if it means fighting my own order.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Journal of W. E. Tupper, Day 58-61
Day 58
I decided to check for any messages left for me with the tavernkeeper before we left town for the mine. The first one was a stern reminder from Colonel Stuart, stating that if I fail to report in by the next two-week marker (which would be Day 66, by my reckoning) then I will be counted as missing and the Sable Lions will respond accordingly. No actual mention of what they would do, but I'd be willing to bet it'd be something along the lines of shrugging and muttering something about scumballs. Well, Benton would at least. The other one was from Captain Sallambier, and I intend to save it for later. I must be sure to send letters back to both of them once we return to town.
Tally for today is 16.
Day 59
Eventually I am going to get used to these long days.
First, the passage to the coral gateway in the mine was mortared shut from the inside. The only other way through was the part of the mountain inhabited by the caravanserai. They charged us an arm and a foot, but they let us through. Then, there was nothing. No coral gateway, no crazy seacoast witches, and the others noted that the place appeared to have been looted further since they were last here. There was still a painting on the wall, though; one of the sunken city. Hrefna was shocked by it, but I just found it to be creepy.
Then, then there were the driders. We tripped an alarm when we were looking around, and two giant gray centaur-spider things decided to escort us out in little chunks. They shot web at us, which is expected from spidery creatures. The webbing was flammable, which was not expected. They used flanking maneuvers, which meant they were smart enough at least to follow orders, which is downright terrifying. I don't want to think about facing down an organized army of these things.
And then, oh then there was the drow woman.
Hrefna scryed up the presence of a single person in the sleeping quarters. I went in to sneak up and knock her out, so we could interrogate her; she shut me down completely. She told us in no uncertain or friendly terms that she is the owner of the mine, and that we should leave lest harm befall us. On our way out, Hrogar got burnt by a fire trap and I had to shake off the sensation of thousands of little spiders all over my skin. Drow humor, it's a riot.
Oh yes, and we can't forget the brigands. Once we got outside, we found a man ogling our horses. He offered to buy one, as he claimed he was travelling far and in need of one. We all refused his offer, and he went on his merry little way back to his lackey-laden camp where he rallied them all to ambush us. Fortunately Shell had been stalking him the whole time and told us their plan. I managed to work out a reasonable strategy of attack, and we set forth to ambush the ambushers. It would have worked, too, if we hadn't taken so long in preparation that they moved their setup closer up the road to us. Nonetheless,we they dispatched the thieves without a hitch. I did not contribute much to the effort save for the quiet molestation of a tree. We set up for the night in our would-be murderers' camp.
Tally for today is 75. Hah.
Day 60
Today was… well at least fewer bad things happened. It started with Fflam's skin looking grayer than it did yesterday. Hrefna's pocus told her it's because he's under the curse of the drider. However comforting it is to know that those things aren't breeding in a tunnel somewhere, the fact that you can be cursed to become one distinctly negates that comfort.
We're returning to Izmir with all due speed. I'm riding behind Fflam in the group just in case he spontaneously transforms and deigns to kill the first thing he sees.
Do driders have eyes in the back of their heads? Oh hell.
Tally for today is 2, I think.
Day 61
In all of the ruckus of the past few days, I had forgotten about Milya's letter. She wrote to say she is well; that she's hoping I'm alright, that the late report has a very good reason to be late that isn't my gory demise, and that I return before spring is over as she wants to go to the St. lEG'lgg Day festivities with me. Apparently Stuart's been missing me since I left, which she can only attribute to the fact that I'm out of range of his crossbow. Hah.
S[heavily scratched out] a She's met a book merchant. His name is Art. He set up shop out in the Scoops not long after I left, and he just so happens to share her interest in dwarven long-form mining epics. It sounds like they are getting along well.
Oh yes, and Fflam has yet to turn into a gibbering monster from the depths of nightmare. Good for him.
I decided to check for any messages left for me with the tavernkeeper before we left town for the mine. The first one was a stern reminder from Colonel Stuart, stating that if I fail to report in by the next two-week marker (which would be Day 66, by my reckoning) then I will be counted as missing and the Sable Lions will respond accordingly. No actual mention of what they would do, but I'd be willing to bet it'd be something along the lines of shrugging and muttering something about scumballs. Well, Benton would at least. The other one was from Captain Sallambier, and I intend to save it for later. I must be sure to send letters back to both of them once we return to town.
Tally for today is 16.
Day 59
Eventually I am going to get used to these long days.
First, the passage to the coral gateway in the mine was mortared shut from the inside. The only other way through was the part of the mountain inhabited by the caravanserai. They charged us an arm and a foot, but they let us through. Then, there was nothing. No coral gateway, no crazy seacoast witches, and the others noted that the place appeared to have been looted further since they were last here. There was still a painting on the wall, though; one of the sunken city. Hrefna was shocked by it, but I just found it to be creepy.
Then, then there were the driders. We tripped an alarm when we were looking around, and two giant gray centaur-spider things decided to escort us out in little chunks. They shot web at us, which is expected from spidery creatures. The webbing was flammable, which was not expected. They used flanking maneuvers, which meant they were smart enough at least to follow orders, which is downright terrifying. I don't want to think about facing down an organized army of these things.
And then, oh then there was the drow woman.
Hrefna scryed up the presence of a single person in the sleeping quarters. I went in to sneak up and knock her out, so we could interrogate her; she shut me down completely. She told us in no uncertain or friendly terms that she is the owner of the mine, and that we should leave lest harm befall us. On our way out, Hrogar got burnt by a fire trap and I had to shake off the sensation of thousands of little spiders all over my skin. Drow humor, it's a riot.
Oh yes, and we can't forget the brigands. Once we got outside, we found a man ogling our horses. He offered to buy one, as he claimed he was travelling far and in need of one. We all refused his offer, and he went on his merry little way back to his lackey-laden camp where he rallied them all to ambush us. Fortunately Shell had been stalking him the whole time and told us their plan. I managed to work out a reasonable strategy of attack, and we set forth to ambush the ambushers. It would have worked, too, if we hadn't taken so long in preparation that they moved their setup closer up the road to us. Nonetheless,
Tally for today is 75. Hah.
Day 60
Today was… well at least fewer bad things happened. It started with Fflam's skin looking grayer than it did yesterday. Hrefna's pocus told her it's because he's under the curse of the drider. However comforting it is to know that those things aren't breeding in a tunnel somewhere, the fact that you can be cursed to become one distinctly negates that comfort.
We're returning to Izmir with all due speed. I'm riding behind Fflam in the group just in case he spontaneously transforms and deigns to kill the first thing he sees.
Do driders have eyes in the back of their heads? Oh hell.
Tally for today is 2, I think.
Day 61
In all of the ruckus of the past few days, I had forgotten about Milya's letter. She wrote to say she is well; that she's hoping I'm alright, that the late report has a very good reason to be late that isn't my gory demise, and that I return before spring is over as she wants to go to the St. lEG'lgg Day festivities with me. Apparently Stuart's been missing me since I left, which she can only attribute to the fact that I'm out of range of his crossbow. Hah.
Oh yes, and Fflam has yet to turn into a gibbering monster from the depths of nightmare. Good for him.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Exerpts from the journal of Hrogar
This morning I awoke from a strange dream. A young elvish woman, or a drow perhaps? She was within some kind of ritual circle, it appeared, communicating with something or someone. It seemed she was being commanded to do something she did not want to do, but I know not what command or commands she was given. However, on her arm, I saw that she had markings or tatoos that were similar to the carvings we've seen on pillars related to the sunken city before. Whatever is going on with her, it seems tied to our quest.
The next thing to do I suppose is investigate who this woman is, where she is, and what it was she was commanded to do. But where to start, I am not quite sure. We could follow up with the drow family we rescued earlier and help them with defeating their enemy family, as that would likely get us to the realms of the drow where this girl may be, assuming she is indeed a drow. I had previously been hesitant to help in a war that was not ours, but recent events have made me less averse to attacking said enemy family, what with one of their leaders putting a curse on our comrade, Fflam, that is slowly turning him into a Dreider.
However, we were going to try to find the High Cleric of Thor that we've had dealings with earlier, as he appears to have gone missing (not to mention that he may be able to cure Fflam's condition). Should we abandon that quest for this potential other one? The quest to find the Cleric may take weeks to accomplish, do we have that much time?
Either way, I'll have to discuss this with the others. Perhaps we will have to split up to cover more ground in less time. The others have been averse to such ideas before, but this time we may not have a choice.
I will meditate further on this dream, and speak to the others about it when the time is right.
The next thing to do I suppose is investigate who this woman is, where she is, and what it was she was commanded to do. But where to start, I am not quite sure. We could follow up with the drow family we rescued earlier and help them with defeating their enemy family, as that would likely get us to the realms of the drow where this girl may be, assuming she is indeed a drow. I had previously been hesitant to help in a war that was not ours, but recent events have made me less averse to attacking said enemy family, what with one of their leaders putting a curse on our comrade, Fflam, that is slowly turning him into a Dreider.
However, we were going to try to find the High Cleric of Thor that we've had dealings with earlier, as he appears to have gone missing (not to mention that he may be able to cure Fflam's condition). Should we abandon that quest for this potential other one? The quest to find the Cleric may take weeks to accomplish, do we have that much time?
Either way, I'll have to discuss this with the others. Perhaps we will have to split up to cover more ground in less time. The others have been averse to such ideas before, but this time we may not have a choice.
I will meditate further on this dream, and speak to the others about it when the time is right.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Dream
Deep within the earth, an apparently young elf with pale skin and black hair weeps. The air charged with electricity, and smells of dampness and death. She sits in the middle of a series of concentric rings, each one engraved with a set of runes. The room is lit with a dim red glow of a luminous fungus. The woman is wearing robes which cover her arms and legs, but her cowl is drawn back, showing a face lined with tears.
"What would you have of me?" She asks the darkness, burying her face in her hands, "what have I done to deserve this..." She chokes as she talks, every word a struggle as she fights back sobs.
Runes flash on the ground, bright purple in color. They flash in a sequence, but if they are communicating a message you cannot tell what it is, and the woman doesn't seem to be looking at them.
She shudders when the sequence finishes and runs her hand through her hair, tears streaming down her face. As she moves her hand, her sleeve falls away, revealing a series of intricate tattoos that resemble the carvings on the pillars from the sunken city.
A light breeze stirs the air, and she seems to regain her composure. Staring off into the darkness, she slowly closes her eyes and whispers "I will do what you ask."
"What would you have of me?" She asks the darkness, burying her face in her hands, "what have I done to deserve this..." She chokes as she talks, every word a struggle as she fights back sobs.
Runes flash on the ground, bright purple in color. They flash in a sequence, but if they are communicating a message you cannot tell what it is, and the woman doesn't seem to be looking at them.
She shudders when the sequence finishes and runs her hand through her hair, tears streaming down her face. As she moves her hand, her sleeve falls away, revealing a series of intricate tattoos that resemble the carvings on the pillars from the sunken city.
A light breeze stirs the air, and she seems to regain her composure. Staring off into the darkness, she slowly closes her eyes and whispers "I will do what you ask."
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