The adventure continues and the plot thickens.
Near Sprayedmountains (Tabathakom), I had to toss a domineering rattlesnakes out of my way lest I get bitten. I arrived at Sprayedmountains exhausted and relieved. I immediately made my way to the mead hall. Once there, Luki (Batowbibe) Tradefair, lady of Sprayedmountains and the Golden Group, greeted me. I told her about being attacked in Naturearrow, but all she said was, “It was inevitable.” I wondered if I had been knowingly sent to such a wild and dreadful site. I slept for a few hours in the mead hall with the permission of Lady Luki and departed for Praisedshoves.
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During the early morning, before the sun had risen, I stumbled upon a magnificent layout of tombs. I entered the closest one. There was a satinspar slab which read, “Woe unto any that disturb the resting place of Nisam Toquemabuth / The War Leader watches still.” I decided to respect the request of the dead man and his servants which lay in the hollowed place of rest. There were simple and grandeur treasures about the tomb—I dared not touch a thing because of the stories of the wrath of mummies my elders told me as a boy. I was unable to find the body of Nisam, for better or worse, so I took a nap until dawn.
Early in the day, I arrived at Praisedshoves' mead hall, the Anguished Sling. I greeted Ur and Lady Desli. They too were not surprised that I was attacked a Naturearrow. Then, Ur told me about his days as a scout before he became a law-giver. I asked Lady Desli if I could serve as hearthperson, but she said that was not worthy yet. I despaired, but uproar concerning a bandit gang in Callpapers (Idosmonom) lead by a bandit named Zefon (Kanrakust) Tiredtomb gave me hope that I could win favor with the lady and fame to prevent future attacks from Naturearrow citizens. I grabbed some loot from the community pool and recruited a pikeman, Ulet (Ciroashro) Slidewars, and a maceman, Uzin (Ilpiithev) Acecloset, before journeying far to the north.
Near a forest retreat in the Craterous Forests, we were ambushed by a Sasquatch recruit by the name of Forkedwipe the Meditation of Shame (Ìltangrôber An Mostod), whom Uzin immediately dispatched with his iron morningstar. We slept the night within another retreat to the north along the river's edge, hoping that the night cackles do not sound this night.
20th of Granite 175
Zotho was very kind and merciful to us, for not one man had been snatched form my party during the night. Around midday, we came across we seemed to be Callpapers. There were several dozens of dwarves (many of which appeared to be weaponless wrestlers) standing around a massive pile of loot. When I shouted out for Zefon, one wrestler shouted “The Rosy Ship are my comrades.” I hardly believed Zefon would be an unarmed madman, but I continued by bringing up the gang's harassment of Praisedshoves. The dwarf wrestler said, “It is terrifying.” I wondered if they were being sarcastic or they had multiple personality disorder, so I continued to comb through the ranks for the real Zefon Tiredtomb. While searching, the same dwarf yelled, “We have been under siege by an ancient force of nature,” and asked for our help.
I finally decide to introduce myself to the talkative wrestler, who introduced himself as Melbil (Bardumfikod) Fightglazes. When I asked him where Zefon might be, he told me that he nor anyone else here knew where old Tiredtomb might be. I called his bluff and found the warlord standing a dozen paces northwest. He too said he was terrified by the Rosy Ship's harassment of Praisedshoves, but I had trouble believing him. I left the camp site and had my men wait in safety, while I assassinated the duplicitous dwarf. Zefon himself was sleeping atop a nearby larch, dreaming of something much more pleasant than his fate. I left his skull and mangled skin hanging from his precious copper spear, which I had placed firmly into the ground. In the process, many dwarves (twenty to be precise) were slain with their warlord that frightful evening—some by a thrown iron bolt, others by the whip, but the luckiest died strangled in their sleep. The name Cikul Knifejoke was sullied that night. Forever after, I was given the epithet the Playful Spurn of Oil (Berusaja Konli) for the gruesome attack on the Rosy Ship (now rosy with blood). Only about half of their members remained physically unscathed from the assault.
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When I returned to my men, while covered in the blood of many dwarves, I noticed that my left arm and left leg were heavily bruised during the attack. My men told me that it was inevitable, that Zefon Tiredtomb had to be stopped in order to bring security to Praisedshoves. Without thinking, I took a two hour nap not a mile from where I had slain twenty dwarves and about twenty more stand grieving and thinking of vengeance. Yet, I was not attacked during my slumber. My bruises cleared up after the nap and I decided to journey beck to Praisedshoves with the news of Zefon's demise.
On our way, a group of five dwarf wrestlers attacked us, but they were no threat. One more came afterward, he too was slain. When morning came, I feared that I was now a lost man, a killer. My men seemed to have deserted me after the first dwarven counter-attack. I washed away the blood in a nearby river after thawed, but the shame and sadness remained. I traveled onward to a forest retreat, alone and downcast. Deprived of sleep, I decided to lay my head down below a mighty apple tree for the remainder of the day.
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Topic: An Anthropological Study as an Adventurer (Read 21957 times)