WhammeWhamme
Dec 21st, '04, 02:50 AM
Well, I have no officially inserted a minor throwaway NPC who attracted FAR too much attention in the game. So here is his journal. I figure he deserves it.
(Notes: the Hermit and the Three Knights are PCs. Sir Scott is actually a woman)
I, Magnus Rex Redshirt, looked death in the eye today. I think I shall have nightmares of this day for the rest of my life.
It began in Holm, my home, where my father (Mayor Redshirt) welcomed the wandering knight Sir Scott (of the Order of the Sword) to our village, and begged his help. We were almost cut off from trade, for all travellers along the woodland path had disappeared - we had sent for help every which way. Sir Scott looked so... athletic, with a robust build, and a mighty presence... I decided then that I would help however I could.
Reinforcement arrived at noon, as Sir Scott was preparing to set off. Baron Neilson, of the Order of the Lance... a great leader, an inspiring man... and the lecher who had slept with my cousin. Perhaps I underestimate him, but still... they were not married! He was much better received by the villagers however; his silver tongue and sword attract people it seems.
We set off into the woods. I led the way, for I know the paths, and I had heard of how far into the woods it was now safe to go (for woodcutting, for example) and where whatever it was lurked.
On the path, shortly after leaving, was a strange man... a hermit, clad in thick hides and armed with a stout blade. He knew of a strange curse upon the forest - something had been killing forest creatures, and melting the flesh from their bones. He then directed our attention towards a deer suffering from this fate - but worse, it's bones had been crushed into pieces by whatever it was.
His horse joined us. It was a strangely intelligent beast by the name of Cotyr, who nodded in response to a question My Grace asked of his master. I almost asked if it was perhaps a brother or friend of the Hermit, transformed unto a animal form by sorcery... but I dared not. Everyone knows the old Hermit posssesses vast magical powers, and what might he turn those who ask into, I dare not think of.
I guided the three along the path, while the Hermit told us that this was first creature he had seen that had been attacked in that way.
As my companions trotted along, a strange and putrid smell assailed my nostrils. I looked down, and picked up a small gobbet of flesh from what I then saw was a huge puddle of liquefied... human... I dropped the lump. I warned milords, and directed their attention to the corpse from which the flesh was dripping. My Grace attempted to dislodge the body from the tree, but it was attached by white bandages, tied to the tree. Sir Scott almost began to climb the tree, but I leapt up the branches and cut it down for him. Then I vomited in the bushes - the smell, the feel... I shudder even now to think of it.
The Knights and the Hermit inspected the body. It was of a traveling Tinker, and the bandages were strong, as hard as forged steel while still too yielding to break. I silently prayed for his soul, and for mine to not join it. A sudden motion in the bushes startled me... but it was only a rabbit.
Looking the same way, My Grace expressed his opinion - that we were on the track of a semi-mythical creature known as a Wylth. They were apparently known for killing people mercilessly, using horrific melting magics... and leaving the clothing untouched. For the tinker, his clothes, and the pots and pans he carried were all intact. I simply stared at the ground as he said this, however... and soon his eye followed mine.
My Grace and I saw something most odd there. There was ploughed earth beneath the tree. Something had dug up and replaced the ground there. My Grace dug away a small amount with his gauntleted hand - and he saw a tight tunnel leading away into the ground. He then explained that Wylth have been known to use their magic to dig - but I saw claw marks.
Returning to the Deer, we find another patch of disturbed ground. The Hermit then returned to his cabin, looking for a spade that he had used to bury other victims of the curse upon the forest. He had been gone for some time, and I could just see the motion of his returning, when a strange coincidence unfolded.
A number of elven brigands attacked, two of them catching My Grace in the back... although one arrow bounced off, the other stuck in an arm joint. My Grace then spurred his horse on, turning rapidly and catching one luckless archer on the point of his lance... and trampling the other beneath the hooves of his mighty warhorse. Sir Scott demanded the other two surrender - they did so with haste.
Indeed, they were almost desperate to surrender; fear had paralyzed them. One begged us not to melt the flesh from his bones, while the other thanked the Knights for guaranteeing his life as a prisoner. When asked what had happened, they replied - they had once been a larger group, but the previous night, something had picked them off, one by one. Whenever some had glanced away they had been struck from behind... and the flesh had melted from their bones, as it had done on the Tinker.
They had barely finished telling us this when the Hermit sighted a glinting metallic figure off in the distance. Another elf, but this time mounted... and a Knight. Faelar Evemngrail. The Blessed Warrior. A legend in his own lifetime... or ten of of ours. A man most graceful, wiry, and skilled in the arts of blade and bow. The demon archer. The only man the Elves felt they needed to send.
His presence inspired the brigands to be a trifle more useful, and they pointed us towards their camp... and the heart of the woods, where none had travelled and returned. They came with us. Faelar had placed them under arrest on his own authority.
It moved with blinding speed when it finally struck. We barely had time to move before it launched itself at the Hermit. Tremendous fangs almost closed on him as hestepped back, out of it's way. Venom dripped, and we could see it's legs, thick as the lances the Knights carried... covered in bristling black hair.
Like demon spawn it looked, this monster. Larger than the horses, it loomed over us. Despite it's size it had almost ambushed us... we faced an awesome foe there. It's children clung to it's back, the size of a man's hand already, but vast in number. It's many eyes glared at us. It was an abomination before man and God - the largest spider even my nightmares ever imagined.
The Hermit stepped back and wove magic. Elemental forces did his bidding... and he bound the creatures which crawl the earth to his bidding, unleashing them upon the spide and it's kin. Centipedes the size of my arm crawled up the spider, ripping and terring at chitin, eventually locking in mortal combat with the beasts atop it.
Foolishly, I limbered my axe and chargethe seething mass of insects, desperate to avenge the tinker we had found. I struck furiously, and caught it a shallow cut into it's chitinous hide. I was lucky to not have hurt it more severely - for as My Grace charged the creature, his lance glancing off due to poor luck, a nip which would have surely ended my life was instead stopped by his armour as it changed targets.
Noble Faelar fired several arrows in rapid succession from his mighty bow, but the angle was poor, and the Chitin thick - they merely stuck upon it. Sir Scott had more luck, for his crossbow lodged a bolt in the neck joint of the creature - a masterful shot.
As the battle of insects raged, I raised my axe for another swing, but no success. The Spider ignored, and bit deeply into My Grace. He went a frightening shade of green as the poison coursed through him, dropping his lance. Rearing up, his horse struck and bit at the abomination to defend it's master, as he drew his longsword for a valiant yet futile strike at the creature.
With redoubled effort and concern, Faelar fired once and again. The arrows struck home, lodiging them selves in the brain by way of the eyes. As the spider threw it's head around, partly blinded, Sir Scott readied for a charge... and a mighty charge indeed. Following the arrows, his lance smashed through the head area of the spider, killing it instantly.
We breathed a sigh of relief as the Hermit commanded the centipedes to finish off the little spiders...
Then the others came. Smaller, but almost of fast, and three in number, they appeared out of the trees. The battleready Hermit reacted immediately, directing his Centipedes to rend one of the horse sized creatures as best they could. Cotyr backed up to guard his master, worried for him.
Caught up in a fury I still cannot understand, I attacked another one of those affronts to God. Some righteous fury seemed to flow from me, for my assualt injured it. It was then I looked death in the eyes, for the monster lived...
The spider being attacked by the centipedes then leapt across the clearing, attacking Faelar viciously... but not successfully. Faelar unsheathed his tremendous two handed sword in one swift elegant motion, cutting down unto the spider - but at the last minute it raised a limb and blocked the swipe.
Sir Scott then surely saved my life, for he charged recklessly into the spider I faced. His lance hit it soundly in the side, breaking off the two central legs... but leaving sir Scott open for a counter attack, which the foul creature made with great glee, injecting it's foul poison into Sir Scott.
My Grace, poorly placed to help us, turned to the assistance of Faelar. His mounted chrage was fearsome to behold, skewering the hideous spider upon his lance and continuing to charge the third one to appear... as his mighty warhorse reared up, and laid into it with it's hooves.
The Centipedes then hunted down the Spider fighting Faelar, and were joined by the noble Cotyr, who crushed the back of the beast with a powerful hoof strike.
Arrows took down the spider in front of me, unleashed by the watchful Faelar.
The last of my battlerage overtook me. Furiously, I charged the remaining spider, despite it being almost unharmed. I gripped my axe in both hands, and ducked under the fangs of the spider. I brought up my weapon in a crushing arc... and somehow, split the monstrous creature in twain.
As I stood there, covered in the fluids of the spider, I realized what I had done. I had fought well, and bravely... perhaps I could live up to my family legacy - for, was my line not named for the brave tactic my noble forefather had adopted? Did I not come from a line of warriors? Could I not become something more than a simple woodcutter?
I asked the heroes back to the village, where I achieved something long thought impossible. I, a mere commoner, became squire to a Knight. Sir Scott... Sir Lance Scott, amusingly enough, being as he belongs to the Order of the Sword.
My sleep shall be haunted by the nightmares of the spiders, but my days shall be filled with the waking dream - I am a Squire. I am someone.
(Notes: the Hermit and the Three Knights are PCs. Sir Scott is actually a woman)
I, Magnus Rex Redshirt, looked death in the eye today. I think I shall have nightmares of this day for the rest of my life.
It began in Holm, my home, where my father (Mayor Redshirt) welcomed the wandering knight Sir Scott (of the Order of the Sword) to our village, and begged his help. We were almost cut off from trade, for all travellers along the woodland path had disappeared - we had sent for help every which way. Sir Scott looked so... athletic, with a robust build, and a mighty presence... I decided then that I would help however I could.
Reinforcement arrived at noon, as Sir Scott was preparing to set off. Baron Neilson, of the Order of the Lance... a great leader, an inspiring man... and the lecher who had slept with my cousin. Perhaps I underestimate him, but still... they were not married! He was much better received by the villagers however; his silver tongue and sword attract people it seems.
We set off into the woods. I led the way, for I know the paths, and I had heard of how far into the woods it was now safe to go (for woodcutting, for example) and where whatever it was lurked.
On the path, shortly after leaving, was a strange man... a hermit, clad in thick hides and armed with a stout blade. He knew of a strange curse upon the forest - something had been killing forest creatures, and melting the flesh from their bones. He then directed our attention towards a deer suffering from this fate - but worse, it's bones had been crushed into pieces by whatever it was.
His horse joined us. It was a strangely intelligent beast by the name of Cotyr, who nodded in response to a question My Grace asked of his master. I almost asked if it was perhaps a brother or friend of the Hermit, transformed unto a animal form by sorcery... but I dared not. Everyone knows the old Hermit posssesses vast magical powers, and what might he turn those who ask into, I dare not think of.
I guided the three along the path, while the Hermit told us that this was first creature he had seen that had been attacked in that way.
As my companions trotted along, a strange and putrid smell assailed my nostrils. I looked down, and picked up a small gobbet of flesh from what I then saw was a huge puddle of liquefied... human... I dropped the lump. I warned milords, and directed their attention to the corpse from which the flesh was dripping. My Grace attempted to dislodge the body from the tree, but it was attached by white bandages, tied to the tree. Sir Scott almost began to climb the tree, but I leapt up the branches and cut it down for him. Then I vomited in the bushes - the smell, the feel... I shudder even now to think of it.
The Knights and the Hermit inspected the body. It was of a traveling Tinker, and the bandages were strong, as hard as forged steel while still too yielding to break. I silently prayed for his soul, and for mine to not join it. A sudden motion in the bushes startled me... but it was only a rabbit.
Looking the same way, My Grace expressed his opinion - that we were on the track of a semi-mythical creature known as a Wylth. They were apparently known for killing people mercilessly, using horrific melting magics... and leaving the clothing untouched. For the tinker, his clothes, and the pots and pans he carried were all intact. I simply stared at the ground as he said this, however... and soon his eye followed mine.
My Grace and I saw something most odd there. There was ploughed earth beneath the tree. Something had dug up and replaced the ground there. My Grace dug away a small amount with his gauntleted hand - and he saw a tight tunnel leading away into the ground. He then explained that Wylth have been known to use their magic to dig - but I saw claw marks.
Returning to the Deer, we find another patch of disturbed ground. The Hermit then returned to his cabin, looking for a spade that he had used to bury other victims of the curse upon the forest. He had been gone for some time, and I could just see the motion of his returning, when a strange coincidence unfolded.
A number of elven brigands attacked, two of them catching My Grace in the back... although one arrow bounced off, the other stuck in an arm joint. My Grace then spurred his horse on, turning rapidly and catching one luckless archer on the point of his lance... and trampling the other beneath the hooves of his mighty warhorse. Sir Scott demanded the other two surrender - they did so with haste.
Indeed, they were almost desperate to surrender; fear had paralyzed them. One begged us not to melt the flesh from his bones, while the other thanked the Knights for guaranteeing his life as a prisoner. When asked what had happened, they replied - they had once been a larger group, but the previous night, something had picked them off, one by one. Whenever some had glanced away they had been struck from behind... and the flesh had melted from their bones, as it had done on the Tinker.
They had barely finished telling us this when the Hermit sighted a glinting metallic figure off in the distance. Another elf, but this time mounted... and a Knight. Faelar Evemngrail. The Blessed Warrior. A legend in his own lifetime... or ten of of ours. A man most graceful, wiry, and skilled in the arts of blade and bow. The demon archer. The only man the Elves felt they needed to send.
His presence inspired the brigands to be a trifle more useful, and they pointed us towards their camp... and the heart of the woods, where none had travelled and returned. They came with us. Faelar had placed them under arrest on his own authority.
It moved with blinding speed when it finally struck. We barely had time to move before it launched itself at the Hermit. Tremendous fangs almost closed on him as hestepped back, out of it's way. Venom dripped, and we could see it's legs, thick as the lances the Knights carried... covered in bristling black hair.
Like demon spawn it looked, this monster. Larger than the horses, it loomed over us. Despite it's size it had almost ambushed us... we faced an awesome foe there. It's children clung to it's back, the size of a man's hand already, but vast in number. It's many eyes glared at us. It was an abomination before man and God - the largest spider even my nightmares ever imagined.
The Hermit stepped back and wove magic. Elemental forces did his bidding... and he bound the creatures which crawl the earth to his bidding, unleashing them upon the spide and it's kin. Centipedes the size of my arm crawled up the spider, ripping and terring at chitin, eventually locking in mortal combat with the beasts atop it.
Foolishly, I limbered my axe and chargethe seething mass of insects, desperate to avenge the tinker we had found. I struck furiously, and caught it a shallow cut into it's chitinous hide. I was lucky to not have hurt it more severely - for as My Grace charged the creature, his lance glancing off due to poor luck, a nip which would have surely ended my life was instead stopped by his armour as it changed targets.
Noble Faelar fired several arrows in rapid succession from his mighty bow, but the angle was poor, and the Chitin thick - they merely stuck upon it. Sir Scott had more luck, for his crossbow lodged a bolt in the neck joint of the creature - a masterful shot.
As the battle of insects raged, I raised my axe for another swing, but no success. The Spider ignored, and bit deeply into My Grace. He went a frightening shade of green as the poison coursed through him, dropping his lance. Rearing up, his horse struck and bit at the abomination to defend it's master, as he drew his longsword for a valiant yet futile strike at the creature.
With redoubled effort and concern, Faelar fired once and again. The arrows struck home, lodiging them selves in the brain by way of the eyes. As the spider threw it's head around, partly blinded, Sir Scott readied for a charge... and a mighty charge indeed. Following the arrows, his lance smashed through the head area of the spider, killing it instantly.
We breathed a sigh of relief as the Hermit commanded the centipedes to finish off the little spiders...
Then the others came. Smaller, but almost of fast, and three in number, they appeared out of the trees. The battleready Hermit reacted immediately, directing his Centipedes to rend one of the horse sized creatures as best they could. Cotyr backed up to guard his master, worried for him.
Caught up in a fury I still cannot understand, I attacked another one of those affronts to God. Some righteous fury seemed to flow from me, for my assualt injured it. It was then I looked death in the eyes, for the monster lived...
The spider being attacked by the centipedes then leapt across the clearing, attacking Faelar viciously... but not successfully. Faelar unsheathed his tremendous two handed sword in one swift elegant motion, cutting down unto the spider - but at the last minute it raised a limb and blocked the swipe.
Sir Scott then surely saved my life, for he charged recklessly into the spider I faced. His lance hit it soundly in the side, breaking off the two central legs... but leaving sir Scott open for a counter attack, which the foul creature made with great glee, injecting it's foul poison into Sir Scott.
My Grace, poorly placed to help us, turned to the assistance of Faelar. His mounted chrage was fearsome to behold, skewering the hideous spider upon his lance and continuing to charge the third one to appear... as his mighty warhorse reared up, and laid into it with it's hooves.
The Centipedes then hunted down the Spider fighting Faelar, and were joined by the noble Cotyr, who crushed the back of the beast with a powerful hoof strike.
Arrows took down the spider in front of me, unleashed by the watchful Faelar.
The last of my battlerage overtook me. Furiously, I charged the remaining spider, despite it being almost unharmed. I gripped my axe in both hands, and ducked under the fangs of the spider. I brought up my weapon in a crushing arc... and somehow, split the monstrous creature in twain.
As I stood there, covered in the fluids of the spider, I realized what I had done. I had fought well, and bravely... perhaps I could live up to my family legacy - for, was my line not named for the brave tactic my noble forefather had adopted? Did I not come from a line of warriors? Could I not become something more than a simple woodcutter?
I asked the heroes back to the village, where I achieved something long thought impossible. I, a mere commoner, became squire to a Knight. Sir Scott... Sir Lance Scott, amusingly enough, being as he belongs to the Order of the Sword.
My sleep shall be haunted by the nightmares of the spiders, but my days shall be filled with the waking dream - I am a Squire. I am someone.