Session Twenty-Three (Graveyard of Empires Summary)

Norelden 14th,

This time, this is not a journal entry, but only a glimpse of my mind. I wake with a startle after a restless sleep to be greeted by a grey and ominous sky right outside of the window. The day will not shine brighter. Only rain awaits. I quickly dress up, not forgetting to adorn my head with my newly acquired crown of shell. I look in the mirror and frown at the squirrel and the acorn upon my left cheek. Nonetheless, I do not let it tarry my mood and leave to join up with my company. I watch from afar as Faldspar joyfully chooses a few new spells. I hear him point out to his master in a spell book ‘detect illusion’ and ‘darkness’. Darkness. I believe I have heard this from the old Finklemur already. A word that rings both alluring and frightening to my ears. The time is near and I knew it beforehand all too well, but why does my heart ache so? From where I am, I watch them. Outside the alchemist ‘shop, our new friend, Virgil, moves his hands around in strange manners while seeming to be entertaining himself with the fountain’s water. The water swirls about and points north. Funny humans. From where I am, I memorize them. ‘A copper for a pound of fleece, a gold for some shiny rock. Some peas.’ The others are trading while I only laze about awaiting our departure. From where I am, I remember. We had signed up to be caravan guards while still exploring on behalf of Desrick. We scheduled to meet him midday today. We had also spoken to our former hireling, Sturlock. We exchanged a few words of greetings and welcomed him back into our small company. He would bring some friends today, former members of the militia. From where I am, I roll my eyes. We paid to Elzbeth three months of rent and provided her with our house key so our townhouse would remain free of residents for the time being. She looked very slightly upset at our departure even though she did expect it. The lady and Faldspar exchanged a few soft loving looks tinted by a light hue of pink upon their cheeks. From where I am, I have a need to stand on tables. Before we leave, we are given a quick farewell celebration with a full round of beer on the house. I drink mine while dancing on the wooden tables and this time around, I did keep my clothes on. Ah, that is a story for another time. When we left the Cock’n Bull, Axel bought a cart for all of us to use. I must mention that he was quite proud of the deed and was unhappy when we thought it was Finkemur who spent his precious gold to buy the cart. With that said, ‘to the city gates!’ We meet up with Sturlock and Kottar. The traffic is high while many are coming and leaving the harbour with their carts and whatnot. The men have brought two new faces to our meeting place. The blond and athletic one wore leather armor and proudly held his halberd. The reclusive one wasn’t wearing anything worth mentioning, but he did have a crossbow. I wonder if one of those could outdo my beautifully crafted long bow? The people around me begin to discuss adventures and payments for which I have no interest for as long as I get my share. I am quickly distracted away from their voices and glance about the city. There is not long remaining. The streets are busy and a lot is happening while we are headed to our meeting destination. The merchants, the guards, the caravans, all is moving at the same time. When we finally arrive, we see four man. Our employer with his carts and three safe guards. He speaks to them upon the sight of us. From the side, I understand the most important parts. Our payment is discussed individually. Somehow, everyone seems to be receiving a gold piece a day. Then, what about me? The man eyed me up and down carefully seeming to wonder how one small and lithe elf would be useful. What I wanted? A gold piece a day. What was agreed upon after my quick and disguised tantrum? A gold piece a day. From the side, I converse. While everyone else was busy loading the packs, I learn a few things about our newly acquired mortal companions. Owen with the bulging eyes knows his horses and his carts. Albric has a permanent scowl and one of those nose that would make the pointiness of my ears jealous. Sevren is quite friendly, that is all. Our journey shall begin with protecting two wagons for employer Sunder Workworks. Once the wagons are loaded and ready, Workworks decides it is still too early to leave so we sit down and do something that I can use no word to describe because it is one of the things I live for with all my heart and soul: eat. So while I was dreaming about ingesting food, Virgil does what priests do best: put shells in the wagons though he calls it ‘blessing the wagon’. I truly believe those shells would have been more loved as a bracelet on my arm or a necklace hanging on my neck. The man Albrick, decides then that he is lacking in entertainment and must speak up his disagreement with Virgil. It was something along the line of ‘hey you, I ain’t sure you gots permission to throw trash here and there in the cart’. That familiar speech is only my interpretation of a very quick mixture of what Albrick meant and how he felt. It matters not, Virgil did get permission and all is well. We sit down to eat. Even through large mouthful of food, I manage to converse. ‘So, where are all of you from?’ Owen fixes me with his bulging eyes. Quite charming I could say. He says something around the line of, ‘I’m around the area and I’ve always been into wagons.’ Charming indeed. Virgil’s newfound best friend Albrick tells us he is from Midmark as well and has been living here all of his life. He tells us about his father owning a business that would never be his because he was not the first born male of his family. I find it quite unfortunate and would have liked to tell him that he only needs to make sure he is the older one that remains when his father would retire, but I suppose I was too busy devouring my succulent meal to really say anything more. Sevren is as well from Mismark and tells us he is in search of gold to start a life. I do not understand this man. He already lives, why would he need gold to start his life? Perhaps he meant he wanted to add some spice to it by hunting for gold. Strange man. Tallen tells us he has worked for the militia for a few years four years ago. He then had a few problems here and there and he just ended up here. I wonder what kind of problems... And then, we were on our way. We sat inside the different carts. I tried sitting on a horse, but they refused it saying the horses would be too worked up having to pull carts and having me sit upon their back. Was that an insult to my elvenness? I am sure I am in no way heavy! I am unfat! Right, GFGGM? And then I tried asking if I could ride a human since there were so many around. I am not sure they understood what I was asking since they all frowned and looked at me as if I were a headless and furless burgundy lama covered in honey and rolling in a pile of chili pepper (Chiney lesslama roll). We meet up with the grave digger Sturgard. The man joins our company after introducing himself. As always, I converse. His answer is the most generic I have ever heard. Perhaps he is also a generic man. Only from his scent, I can already feel his nearby doom…for being so generic. He says he grew up in Midmark, that he has been in the grave robbing business for a while and that he is travelling around. Please, even my GFGGM could have guessed so! We ride under an unsupportable heat for long hours. Unfortunately for me and Virgil, we must have had royals in our blood line since we sweated slightly more than the others. We were meant to live in comfort and not this terrible weather. As we travelled towards the place, we sight people and houses. It is quite busy and there are wagons here and about. When we finally reach the outskirts of the jungle, the roads seemed to disappear into the darkness. Seeing it so close to me, I fall quiet for a moment and many memories and foreshadowing images flash before me. I would have been lost in them if Faldspar did not suddenly interrupt me with his baboon non sense. ‘I hope there aren’t any ants in the jungle. I hate ants. Especially giant ants.’ ... While we were busy discussing ants, Sanders shows us the back of the second wagon. There is a crate there with rations for us to cook and eat. Money, food and adventure, but for what more could I ask? Caused by a professional thief’s reflex, I rush towards the crate and stuff my mouth and pockets with food as fast as I can realizing only then that it was still raw. Again, the company stares at me as if I were a Chiney lesslama roll. And then after my spectacular show of speed, Faldspar cooks like a cordon bleu with the help of Kottar and we enjoy a warm and hot meal. From where I am, I roll my eyes. Faldspar and Kottar bonds. Truly, the silent type of bonding. Night is falling soon and so we set up the camp after deciding on everyone’s turn to keep watch. Virgil and Thorfus would go first, and then Axel and I. The time approaches and the heat becomes even more insufferable. We decide not to keep a bon fire for the moon and the stars would allow us to see any intruders. I find a place for myself to lie upon thick grass and fall into another restless slumber. I am once again startled awake this time by noises of approaching footsteps. Was that in my dream, or were people truly here? Perhaps it was both. Thorfus and Virgil wake us to show us about fifteen torches from afar. At this point, Faldspar and Axel are still sleeping: one on the side of the road and the other in a cart. I attempt to hide in the shadows so I can find out who they are, but my body disobeys me and I fail to do so. We find out after a moment that they are only guards from the town. We exchange swift pleasantries and bid each other good night. Before anyone knew, Axel already went back into his comfy cart to snuggle with the food crates. Fearing he would take advantage of my food, I choose his cart to rest until our turn to keep watch. I walk to his cart and climb onto it. I hear his attempt to chase me away by snoring like a giant and fat baby duck, but I ignore his threat.

I let myself fall like a wooden staff upon the cart and perhaps Axel himself as well and then spread out my arms and legs as if I were a star fish.

Upon Axel’s and my turn to keep guard the camp, I climb upon a tall tree to the west of our camp for optimal vision while Axel stands more to the east. We were pacing for a while until Axel spots something moving in the high grass on his side. It is looking at us. Brave Axel tries hopelessly to listen to the being. When it is ninety yards away from the camp, I shoot a perfect arrow as a warning shot that lands right between its feet. We hear it hiss and see it move back. It does not last long. It begins to move towards us once again, but more cautiously this time. In a hurry, Axel wakes his nearest companion Thorfus. The latter then attempts to wake everyone else. Axel, the mighty warrior, attacks the beast with his long bow, aiming and landing his first shot. The old Finklemur, not knowing anything better to do, decides he wants something big around to take care of the smaller things for him: let’s enlarge Sturgard. The poor man. The beast is a basilisk with hollowed black eyes. Gazing into his orbs might be our doom. Axel starts feeling a sluggishness but he shakes it off as if it were a bad cold. Strong man he must be. Tall upon my tree, I shoot my target from an unnerving distance and significantly damage the beast. Axel brings out his shield so he can ‘specifically obfuscate the thing’s head to avoid eye contact’. My friends, that is exactly how he said it in his accent from the north. Virgil then throws a net to limit the basilisk’s movements. Strulock and Kottar both take their turn to crossbow away! The shot hits remarkably. The battle goes on while Faldspar, after looking at the event happening before him from the corner of his eyes, mumbles something along the line of, ‘You guys got this, I’m going back to sleep.’ You have not much time left, it has to be now or never. One last stand against the basilisk monster. I majestically draw the string of my bow to muster up an enormous amount of power. My body is of a warrior. My stance is refined. But my mind is elsewhere. I pierce Axel’s left butt cheek deeply and blood spills out like a fountain of cherry juice. What do dwarves usually say after this? Oh yes, it is ‘Oops’. However, I am certain that he will live through this without any permanent damage and will once again sit down properly. In fact, he was boasting earlier in the day that he was twice as healthy as me! He’s to learn the hard way not to mess with an elf! Resigning myself to my fate of being eternally distracted until I meet again with my friends, I aim playfully at the warrior’s right butt cheek. I let out a muffled laugh when it lands as hard as the other one. I wonder who would be putting ointment on the dwarven behind. Axel received another hit from the beast, making him look like he was on the brink of death, but he would not be, because I said so. He was angry, I could tell. In his rage, he charges aggressively at the monster and breaks his weapon in process. Perhaps this is my cue. I focus to aim this time wanting to not leave with any regrets. Unfortunately, it was never meant to be. All my arrows land in the grass. From where I am, I look at them one last time and disappear into the darkness. The next morn they would find letters in the cart and our employer and his lackeys three thousand gold pieces missing from their trousers and carts.

• Insert Adam’s summary here* - I’ll do it when I come home or Adam can do it if he reads this.

Norelden 14th, Dear men and dwarves, I write to thee this letter of farewell in the gambling halls of Midmark, or so I think this is where I am. This noise and these drunkards throwing money around somehow gives me the respite and isolation I need to express my feelings through written words. Our journey together has been long and somber. When we are not underground, we are under a raining grey and dark sky. And if it is not raining the typical water drops, then it is raining fire! Argh. You’ll see I have dedicated a letter to each one of you on this single parchment. Yes, yes, I know what you all are thinking: cheap thief. Well, what can I tell? You make coins with pennies? And saving on paper will undoubtedly help me receive the training I need to become a greater thief! I find myself throwing out some coins here and there, unaware of what is really going on with my gold. A hundred pieces of gold won, a hundred pieces of gold lost. In the end, it would be as if I had never been part taking in these men’s folly. Dear Faldspar, Your dress is great, and so is your chin hair. I am sure more will have the chance to appreciate your sense of esthetic besides Elzbeth. I wish you luck in your journey to glory. That is all. You might think this was too short and that I am being unfair? Nay. We have been friends for too long and the both of us know we will meet again, and very soon as it is. This is not a farewell, but simply a goodbye to you dear friend. Until then,

Dear Finklemur, You’re old, loud and cranky. I often try not to look at your wrinkled face and wimpy silhouette in the morning. It gives me the creeps. Nay, nay, you know I do not mean it. Not. The way you own a dog and a horse is charming. The way your cheeks turn pink when you find someone to your taste is adorable. Is it now?

Dear Virgil, Quiet one, we have not met for long and we have not spoken much, but I will keep the crown of shell you have crafted for me for a long, long time. Until we meet again priest,

Dear Thorfus, The way you so seriously come up with battle strategies and the way you are so cliché when it comes to battle cries simply…bring me to tears. The way you chop off heads and then spill healing potions is endearing. Truly, I am sure you will keep them safe and make sure you do. At least, Until our paths cross again,

Dear Axel, It pains me to part from a bearded, short yet tall, chubby creature such as yourself. I must find a way to make you understand the pain that I am feeling presently. Perhaps a few arrow shots in your behind might be close to this pain. I hope you will not mind too much! Remember me for as long as you’ll remember being shot from behind. I hope it will be longer than your convalescence. Until then, sweet north accented hairy being,

Tarion, your beloved (I hope so) squirrel and acorn face scarred elf