"Attack on The Varo"

O

n this night we tracked the Varo raiders to their camp. Too many there are, for six wounded adventurers and two worn dogs to battle, with any hopes of success. Again it seems that we must rely on stealth and strategy.

I fear we will not survive this next night, though Loxslot and Tatjana both seem excellent tacticians and, with any discipline, plausible it is that we may extract Gerti from her captors. Given Korgeth's inherent zeal, and commitment to Gerti, stealth may be impossible for very long.

But perhaps resort, we can, to the stealth of chaos. Primarily, we will have to disable their mounts while acquiring a few of our own. It is not honorable, but then again neither were their means. We will use the cover of night to our advantage, then, and hopefully escape both with ours and Gertrude's life.

May the earth meet only our feet, this night.

-M

"The Varo in Uli"

S

ome barbarian folk from a nearby region attacked Uli. Raided it they did, for mystics who might heal them of some affliction they suffer. In the chaos many of the local kin were slain, though survivors were also many. A robust people these are, the people of Uli. Dain found safety in the inn, though he looked to bear some wear from battle. And luckily, also safe was Eva.

But Gertrude, the innkeep of this hamlet, was taken. This seemed to be their plan all along. Truly the seemed not to slay when they could avoid it, though I was forced to end the lives of four Varo that day. May their souls find peace in becoming the earth once more.

This has led me to ponder many possibilities about my future, in this quest. An uncanny chance there is that I may have to slay more men, and mayhap even women, as I pursue the bigun who slew my brother. But my brother did not receive and rites after being vanquished. Horridly wrong that is. We are all folk of one side or another, with one quest or agenda. And deserving of the Rites of the Dead we all are, whether any other views us as honorable or not.

Tatjana offered me conversation today, when I asked her a simple question. She seems to be of the same objectiveness of the situation that I am, though she took a different approach to it. Hustled to pile the deceased into a pyre, not for funeral, but to purge them of their affliction. This is not the way I am used to seeing the dead treated, but then again many things have changed since I left home. I can't expect it any other way.

At first a threat Tatjana seemed, ostensibly coming from some high power far away. But I believe I can trust her for all practical purposes. She is the one who told me that the Varo sought after a healer, and I believe that to be true after seeing the affliction with my own eyes. Perhaps she will join us, if we make quest to save Gerti from the barbarians who took her.

And aside that, I am reminded of the fierceness with which Korgeth fought the Varo. After thinking about it, I have decided that his ways bore some resemblance to these men. And given his behavior, maybe a question or two I ought to ask him...

-M

"More on the Aberrant Rodents"

B

ecause time I have to spare in Uli, while the others recuperate, I decided to record a description of the rodent men with whom we've found combat many times of late. Never seen creatures like this before, I hadn't, but I had heard tales of shalovyk krysa, lanky men who looked of rats and kidnapped children who wandered at night. Maybe these are not the shalovyk krysa from Dwarfly stories, but it seems the fables are not without base.

After many attempts in the dirt,
this is my best rendering of the
beasts.

These rodent men stand varying heights, some large as me and some larger, and they wield small implements like that of a thief. They seem to excel in ranged combat, perhaps due to their physical frailty.

Speak of their intellects, I cannot, but they seem sharp-witted if not wise or intelligent. Usually they travel or fight in groups, taking advantage of their surroundings and using basic battlecraft to overcome the enemy.

Their writing looks like that of scratches with inked claws or blades. Of a drunken scribe it reminds me—Intentional, yet without prudence.

Also capable they are of the use of poisons, and coordinated murder—Such as that of the seamstress, Lafia.

It seems they, much like the bestial Orc though much less recklessly aggressive, lend ranking of authority to the size. The biggest of the S.K. wielded a sword of unique and sadistic craftsmanship, and another of comparable size appeared some sort of ritualist or shaman. Upon deeper investigation of the hovel which these two occupied, a vile concoction, we found, which carried the carcasses of two dire rats.

These two rats, certainly not the S.K. though apparently manipulated by them, were clearly dead: their lacerated flesh, however, took movement and made to attack us. We made relatively quick work of the two rats, yet I am still haunted by their state: nezhyt'u. Like the S.K. I thought such things only existed in stories.

-M

"The Green Beasts"

W

e were attacked by vile green giants, on route back from the town of Ostern. Missed my shot, and was forced to flee when the others all but abandoned me. Loxslot's bowstring gave way in his panic, and Korgeth clearly has never fought a foe taller than him, as I am forced to do with nigh every encounter.

The beasts approached
without hesitance, green
skin and long noses.

The encounter was a sobering warning of the danger of giants. I know not what type, exactly, the bigun was that killed Rodek. A part of me resents the others for fleeing. Such cowardice is what slew my brother, not the beast. Indeed, Managed to outwit it and escape, the others in the quad did, and without fleeing.

But Deus is no Dwarf. Korgeth is reckless but not markedly brave. And Lox certainly values safety, even at the price of cowardly tactics. May we all learn some lesson from it.

Headed towards the abberants' nest, we were, to investigate a hidden passage I discovered when last we visited. I had thought little of it, but Lox found its implications to be worthy of another look. Now that we have taken care of trade in Ostern. Otto paid me well for Lafia's ring, and I spoke vaguely of plans with Beold and Gild. Because of the baron's grasp on their business, I hesitated to say more.

Now staying in Uli, we are, so that Deus and Korgeth can find reprieve and rest their wounds. We shall leave in a day or two, I imagine, to make way through the long underground tunnel...

-M

A.E. Beold is a human. But his Dwarfly accent confounds me, and he and Gild act as brothers would. I wonder about his origins...

"About Ostern"

T

he trading town of Ostern is markedly busier than the hamlet of Uli, and much more concerned with pomp and splendor than the humble home of Gertrude's stay-inn. In this way it echoes back to my home in Tier Mennis, though quite different is the human approach to ceremony.

I met this previous night what humans called a "little Dwarf." At first I was offended until I met him: He is a gnome! How callous humans are sometimes, for all their soft skin. Otto is a craftsman, and I intend to meet with him come the morrow, to inquire about some of my plans for the giant-slaying crossbow. Still I believe I am not ready to hunt the bigun, nor am I equipped to do so, but I believe with steadfast progress that soon the day may come.

Also in this town are Beold and Gild, Dwarf craftsmen who I believe may be interested in building me the implement itself. If they are amicable towards woman Dwarfs. Otto seems more likely to be friendly, so I will go to him first. Wish to join me anyways to see Beold and Gild, the others might, so I think I will save that for later.

The prince of this region, said to be getting married on Ostern, he is. Treated similarly here, the women are, and I don't know what to make of it all. But it has brought much business which makes a conspicuous lady Dwarf and her unlikely companions much less of note. And that I do not mind.

-M

"Companions. Allies."

H

e seemed a mite distempered upon first meet, but the human man named Deus Servus, in spite of this devotion to some god, and battle hesitance, is no coward. Holds principles, he does, which makes his word more credible and his intents easier to know. I feel he and I may work well together, once he finds his boots more solid. Albeit, I sometimes question the sensibility of his tongue. Doctrine makes one solid like the stone, the Dwarf says, but even a boulder knows when to move.

Much the opposite is Korgeth, from the human. I would never have seen myself in allegiance with a man of Orc blood, yet here am I... Something about him stirs my curiosity, mayhap, and I sense a certain kindred ness to his pain of being the outsider. Being second to one of better blood. And he is strong, quite strong he is, and adroit too in spite of his size. Sometimes I can see him fighting a beast, the wild and hot, green blood within him. Balancing on the crest of a mountain, he seems, able to fall to either side with a strong gust or ill step. I hope to influence him towards the side of society, where he can put his growing power to heroic, not brutish, deeds. And of course, if I can keep him in check, his strength can be of use to me.

And as unlikely as the Orc, is an Elf with whom I find company. Though wily, he at least knows when to keep a disciplined tongue. And I find him succeeding risky maneuvers, footing as swift as an Elf's but sure as a Dwarf's. Usually—I think I will precede him on dangerous crossings, from henceforth. And I feel that in his company I may unwittingly find trouble, yet he has an element of luck about him which finds restitution. He has some ways which I find unsavory, like his taste for women. Luckily he finds no attraction in me, at least when he's sober. No Elf can hold his ale. With my coin I don't trust him, but I do with my life. For some reason. How vexing, Loxslot is!

Many others I've also met, with whom I may seek help in the future. Ava, a girl with secrets her own. Though of her agenda and motives I am unsure, I owe her my life. There is also Dain, a kindly elder man Dwarf who sees me with eyes free of disdain for woman Dwarfs. A Human woman named Tatiana, who carries no means of physical defense other than a game hound—She I am not sure of, but in her brief time has proven herself trustworthy. And others as well.

Tomorrow we depart from Uli for Draghma and Ostern beyond that, with a cluttered and oft-erroneous map recovered from nest of aberrant rodent men. A royal wedding there be. Mayhap some adventure we can find.

-M

A.E. Many weeks it has been since my last entry—Caught up in travel and a sudden excitement in Uli I've been (the abberations I wrote of, who killed a village woman at Draghma. See sketch). From hence a more regular log I shall keep. I fear things might change fast.

These creatures stood upright with varying height.
Some tall as me, and some as tall as the Orc, Koregeth.
Vermin.

"Departure"

A

lways overshadowed by my weaker little brother, I was. Being the eldest offspring counts for nothing when you turn out a woman, but I've made the best of my position. My brother was always foolhardy. Too prideful to run, but too slow-witted for battlecraft.

Ronek was always weaker than me in spirit and tact, even as his physique overtook me in my third decade. My father favored him. Call him the first child in his naming, he did, and made me the second place offspring. Tried to teach Ronek how to be strong, and how to be prudent and judicious. But those lessons always missed his target. He never saw that his lessons found their true home as his eldest, as I, learned them in earnest.

My father loves me. Spotted the man's heart inside of me, he did, and sent me to the elder forest. Lopping elderpine is barely a weak man's work, mining and metalcraft it is not, but still it's a man's work nonetheless. Kept me out of the breweries and creches, those elderpines. Chiseled my body to be something of substance. Kept me alert and wary. Made me strong.

But it's no giant hunting.

My brother died to that, he did. In his rite of passage. He was too young for it, sent off at the elder's age he was. At my age. The quad came back with the head of a bigun, and the helmet of my brother. He turned his back and made to flee, the quad says, when a second and bigger one rose up from a hiding ditch in ambush. The helmet's Stonepike engraving run through by a club spur, wide as my wrist.

So the honorable Stonepike house, disavowed the renown of being a Bastion Keeper, it was. Been shamed for raising a weak son, my father has, and stripped of honor and rank. And the next of the Stonepikes, just me, lost the right to forge its lineage further—And my father's got some years left, he has, but none in him for making more sons.

Live a lady and die a dishonored and childless Stonepike, I could, or exile myself as a woman who knows not her place, fight like a man, maybe die like one, and seek absolution for my brother's cowardice. Quad says the bigger bigun dented their armor and chinked their weapons, but they managed to fight him into a crevasse and escape with their bravery and honor. But the one who killed my brother didn't die.

So I'll hunt him down and have his head. No woman ever made passage to manhood in our clan, but out there are tales of women making like men and living strong lives. I know I can earn lineage rights for the Stonepike house.

I'm doing the only sensible thing.

-M