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Post by mailstorm on Jan 20, 2020 1:02:50 GMT 1
Diary,
when I awoke, it was with fuzzy and heavy head. From the depths of my mind thoughts slowly surfaced to consciousness, most of them in the from of questions.
Where am I? Who am I? Why am I dizzy and nauseous? What could've happened last night?
I slowly opened my eyes to an unexpected but pleasant sight; a large, well-shaped bottom was hovering above me, gently squeezed through the diamonds of a hammock that was carrying its weight. It and myself were swaying left and right. Resisting the confusing -and quite mesmerizing- aspects of the situation, I slowly surmised that I too was laying in a hammock, in a large cabin of what would turn out to be a huge ship. Closer inspection made me realize that a Mythos lay above me. I tried to turn on my side so as to avert my gaze. Offending a Mythos can mean a quick end to anyone's life, and I was particularily defenseless, the state I was in.
In the following hour I achieved getting out of my hammock, fumbling with small doors and stumbling through small corridors, eventually climbing up to the main deck, where I -using the balustrade as support- lay my last meal to rest at sea.
After, I asked the sailors I passed how I'd come here, and where we were going. Not stopping with their labours, they all answered dismissively -and it strikes me now, rather routinely- that we were headed for Agonia, that any question would be answered there and that we would be arriving soon. A Leafborn and a Lightfoot that I recognized from the cabin had now joined me on the deck. We stood at the bow, looking in silence as an island grew ever larger on the horizon. I said 'that must be Agonia'. The Lightfoot asked in high-pitched voice 'Agoniwhat?' I sighed and shook my head. I didn't have a clue.
As the ship layed anchor in a natural harbour, me and several other confused-looking types (among which was the Mythos, whom I dared not adress) were rowed to a cresent-moon-shaped smaller island, in the midst of the bay. Several wheelcarts, attached to oxes waited for us near the shore. 'These will bring you to New Heaven' were all the instructions we got. As we rode into the city, all kinds of noises drowned eachother out, fighting for my attention. I got a headache. 'Great', I murmered under my breath. Nobody took notice. The wheelcarts stopped in the center city square. I saw the Mythos wander off towards the shade. I hesitated. 'What the fuck do I do now?' I tried to orient myself. I stood blinking in the midday sun, until a guy came up to me.
'You there! Yes you! Standing there with that gormless look about you will end your time in Agonia quick, fast and in a hurry! Come this way, you'll need some help if you're going to survive this place.'
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Post by mailstorm on Jan 21, 2020 2:16:17 GMT 1
Diary,
the man that offered me help on my arrival is called Hojeen. He at least answered some of my questions. Apparently, several powerful mages called 'the ancients' have cast amnesia and statis spells on the members of the different tribes present in Agonia. These 'ancients' claim that our former homes were destroyed. Personally, I am skeptical of their assertion, as it does not explain why an amnesia spell -let alone a statis spell- would at all be necessary. I simply can't reconcile the idea of 8 tribes fleeing from an all-consuming catastrophe with the deployment of such extreme, large-scale and forceful magic. Hojeen also told me that the tribes are organized in two warring factions. If this is according to the design of 'the ancients', one must truly doubt whether they have our best interests in mind.
Hojeen himself seems blissfully ignorant of these inconsistencies. Perhaps he is cautious of whom to trust... I'd be wise to do the same. Of course, he could also simply be too occupied with survival to question the bigger picture. Hojeen mentioned he was part of the first who arrived on Agonia, and he is one of the last of those who still stands. Even if he is a bit dense, I must certainly learn all I can from this most skilled warrior!
Talking to Hojeen made me fully come back to my senses, though I was startled when he pointed out I carried an axe. I must have picked it up at the ship. The stone axe hung easily at my belt, the weight so natural by my side that I hadn’t even noticed it prior. In my former life, I must have been a woodworker of some sort. Hojeen said he’d help me further if I’d use my axe to kill a couple of black skeevers. He gave me some healing potions and a map, marking where I’d find my quarry. I doubted killing skeevers was the appropriate use of an axe, but I made no further remarks. Though I was back to my senses, I was still completely helpless. If Agonia is as dangerous as Hojeen led me to believe, I have to learn from him and earn his trust. I’ll try to get rid of these skeevers soon -nothing ventured, nothing gained. But first I’ll close my eyes for a minute. My sharpened senses brought exhaustion center stage, and according to the map I have a mountain trek ahead of me.
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Post by mailstorm on Jan 23, 2020 3:15:12 GMT 1
Diary,
There are two mountain-ranges on this crescent-moon Island. In the north, a smaller mountain range constitutes the top arc of the island. On the central and biggest range New Heaven is built, occupying a part of a large heightened plateau. To the east of the city, a second peak prevents sight of the bridge that -at least according to my map- leads to the mainland. In the South-West of the city an isthmus forms another connection to the mainland. To find the black skeevers, I had to descend the mountain on its southern slope, cross some grassland and enter the forest where the pack was assumedly located. Though I didn’t consider myself apt to do battle, I did understand that one cannot let disease-carrying vermin fester close to a city. I also understood that in a situation of survival, any able hand should contribute to the cause. Besides, I had a vague idea of what skeevers were and didn’t think killing some of these overgrown rodents would be a problem.
As I started my descent and left the busy city-noises behind, I found myself alone with my thoughts. The idea of there being forsaken on Agonia who were out for my blood quickly drew all of my attention, and I considered how one should best defend New Heaven from an army of Forsaken. I dismissed the idea of using the wooden wall surrounding the city as an actual line of defense. The city was a settler city and had sprawled out in each direction as there was a need. Erecting a wooden wall on the top of a mountain must have been a lot of work, but placing defenders along its length would be madness. High and dry up a mountain meant that one could see attackers from far away -its true-, and on my arrival I had appreciated how the western wall followed a ridge. However, besides this western wall the city was surrounded by the flat plateau, on which an extended siege or differentiated attacks were imaginable. It seemed to me far better to concentrate defensive troops at the two entries to the island. Fighting battles there would maximize strength with minimal forces. If I’d had to choose, I’d always pick being besieged on an island above being besieged in a city on top of a mountain.
I soon detracted from these thoughts. The midday-sun I’d normally shun made the water in the distance glitter lively. The woods ahead started dancing before I too felt the northward gusts cool my body through my cotton shirt. I only had my axe and some supplies Hojeen had given me. It made me feel light and I made swift headway. Being on the mountain was invigorating and unmindfully I started whistling a song.
--Now that I think back on it, I can’t remember how it went. Strange, as the song had sounded so familiar...--
I crossed the grasslands and the forest line in the same absentminded fashion, thankful of my height as I walked under some low-hanging branches. The forest had started to dense. Suddenly a low menacing growl forced me back to the present. The skeever that opposed me in a clearing between some trees was not as I had imagined it. It was huge, easily the size of my arm in length, its height reaching my knees. Its pitch-black and oily body made it hard for me to discern its eyes. It started growling more aggressively, alarming me by the sheer volume it could produce. Its mouth was open now, as if it wanted to show me that its teeth were each as large as my fingers. I backed away as I reached for my axe, hoping to buy myself a second. The skeever immediately started running towards me, faster than I could possibly outrun it on this forest floor. I stood my ground, held my axe firmly with both hands, tension rising in my muscles as I prepared to kill it in one swing. A meter away from me it leapt at full speed, but just as I ousted a battlecry and started swinging my axe intent to cleave it midair, a huge weight in my side knocked me off my feet. I fell on the ground and turned on my back but a second skeever was already on top of me, trashing with its body as it tried to get its snapping teeth closer to my face. I took its head with both hands, shutting its jaws and pushing as hard as I could. Its disgusting head was slippery with fat, but I took hold of its skull under my fingertips. The beast kept trashing its body, cutting my shirt and skin with its sharp paws. It could do little else though, and I managed to knee its body hard, twice. Then the first skeever sprang upon my other leg, biting hard. In panic and pain I kicked the first skeever with my free leg, and managed to fling the other one to my side. I hurried in a sitting position, strangled my two hands together and brought my them down hard on the skeevers head. I felt it releasing its bite, and I pulled my legs away by pushing me off of the forest floor. The second skeever had already leapt again for my face, but I was too fast, managing to hook-punch it in the side of its head. As it fell down, its long tail whipped me across my face. I backed away further. The skeevers seemingly needed a moment to collect themselves, as they did not pursue. I got up my feet, blood streaming from the open wound in my left leg, face burning. The skeevers’ beady eyes followed me, as I slowly moved in a half-circle to the place where I dropped my axe. I stared back at them in cold fury, my figure bending slightly towards them, trying to convey to these creatures that whatever they’d do, I was ready. My foot touched the axe. The skeevers started moving, one going to my left, the other to my right. The one closest to me started running, I had no time to reach for my axe. I put my foot under the handle where it touched the axe’s head, launched it in the air and caught it with my hand. The skeever had already leapt but I simply side-stepped from its path. I knew what was coming next and turned in time to see the other skeever mid-air leaping to bite my face. I jumped to the side, resolutely not letting go of my axe. I quickly turned, took a firmer hold of my axe and swung it perfectly into the head of the skeever that had leapt once again. The head split, blood and brains spilling on the forest floor. I easily dodged the subsequent leap of the only skeever remaining. This time it didn’t turn again but kept running away from me. Its movements had become significantly slower, so it didn’t manage to get out of sight before I realized what I had to do. I inhaled and threw my axe at the creature as it was perhaps 4 meters away from me. My axe sank into its body. The black skeever stopped moving. I sighed.
I tasted blood; I must have bit my tongue when the skeever had pushed me over. I felt numb but for a sharp pain in my leg. My head was heavy and dizzy, my body exhausted. I was thankful for the healing potion that Hojeen had given me and thankful it didn’t break. I drank it. I limped over to retrieve my axe and kept limping until I sat down on a tree trunk a bit further away. I thought about what to do, and where my life had taken a turn for the worse. I didn’t have much to think about. I had no idea who I was, or what I was doing here. Killing black skeevers it seemed. Probably wasn’t a woodworker neither. Through the pain and exhaustion, I fell some deeper feeling, something I still find difficult to place. It was as if I was grateful to the skeevers. Grateful that they had given me such a mighty fight and story to tell. The health potion did wonders. After my mind wandered from what I had been through to the mountain trek that was still ahead of me, I cautiously got up, trying to save my left leg. However, I realized my wounds were no longer there. Only dried blood remained on my leg and body. Sadly, my cotton shirt had remained in tatters. I walked over to the bodies of the skeevers. On the marketplace I had seen that people sold hides, bones and raw meat. Perhaps I could gain some money in a similar way. I used my axe to skin the skeevers and retrieved a bone that looked useable. I packed my stuff, my trusty axe hanging by my side. Though I had much to think about, I did not let my guard drop as I slowly ascended back to New Heaven. There seems to be much to learn here and I’d be wise to do it fast; if I’m to survive.
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Post by mailstorm on Apr 8, 2020 8:08:28 GMT 1
Diary,
Where am I to start? I have long intended to commit myself to you, but other dispositions kept me from my pen. I have stayed in New Haven - where I keep you - more often than I anticipated, but the nature of the experiences I suffered in these last months often left my spirit overwhelmed, leaving it a mirror of the blank pages I found myself staring at. Indeed, the ink of the word ‘Diary’ atop this page is as dry as the skeever hide I keep in my dwelling since that very first day on Agonia. Be not too vindictive for my negligence, as I have suffered much… Death, among other things. Numerous deaths. Thrice by vile forsaken hands, many times more by teeth, claw and acid of the foul spawn that roam these lands. Only this morning, my spirit left my former body to decay in the desert sun. I was flung through the air by the impact of a tree trunk. An undead giant swatted me aside, as I would a fly. The contrast between my first encounter with two skeevers and my stand with my brothers against an undead force outnumbering us seven to one couldn’t have been greater - though similarities exist as well. Diary, I did not merely take you from the capital to recount my pitiful stance against the undead. I wish to record the politics - and dare I say history - I witnessed unfold during these last weeks.
Two months prior, Balin, my former mentor, was elected mayor of New Haven. He has governed in turbulent times, but his feisty nature – which strongly contrasts with how I have come to know him in private conversation – is, if not a cause, most certainly an antidote to several setbacks the fellowship suffered. Some that used to be fellow have turned “free folk”. These Agonians do not wish direct association with the fellowship, nor with the forsaken. In my time in Agonia I have met only one, during the construction of Moria. A Nuruk by the name of Ingg helped Balin, Sarai, Ragnar and other central figures in our alliance to haul necessary materials from the nearby forest to the site. I had hoped to serve the fellowship that day, but all I did in the time I stayed was to saw some planks out of the several hundred trees the giant Jolly felled in a few effortless sweeps. Truly, my contributions to the fellowship during my stay seem meaningless next to what these veterans realize daily. The memory of the pathetic death this morning proves a burning example of that statement. I must try not to digress. The motives of these former fellows are unknown to me. I never enjoyed their private company as they mostly stayed in the unforgiving north and neither am I closely involved in Agonian politics. This much I do know: their departure has left the fellowship as vulnerable as it has ever been. For this their I cannot forgive them their actions. To add to our plight, those who left have taken up station in the north, razing a former fellowship castle that had occupied a natural chokepoint. In its stead they raised their own stronghold, which they call “castle black”, perhaps as an omen to our future. A non-agression pact governs their relation with our faction, but with change in circumstance, the fellowship could lose a vital access-point to the northern parts of the island, which offers access to resources such as snow shade. Finally, an expedition of the first settlers of Agonia made camp in the north, and I truly dread the day that we would lose contact with those brave men. Indeed, I fear their desertion will have a lasting impact on our ability to withstand assaults by the forsaken warmongers.
Luckily, at least some forsaken can be reasoned with. A historic event, the rise and fall of the skeleton king, brought the two factions to a peace treaty. I was in the mountains mining for ore far away from both the negotiating table and the armies of the skeleton king when a bat reached me with this news. I recollect that I turned to the blue skies above in wonder what other surprising turns lay in Agonia’s future. The will of the fellowship is strong, and even now our veterans train new recruits how to survive in these lands. I hope and believe that these recent events sharpen our resolve and harden our determination to let our order grow and flourish. Only this morning I proudly stood with my fellow brothers, knowing that the last of the undead would crumble before our combined strength.
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