(G5 16/05/08 KT)
day 4 cont..
.. and the fighting began. Raz quickly turned and almost immediately dispatched one of our attackers
after making sure the zombies were shut in.
Anderhoff made a run for it and ordered the other men down here with us to hold us back while he got
more help.
Well they didn't hold us back for long. Raz knocked them all aside like stalks of wheat, and even
Mr Badgerington bit one on the leg. I'm afraid I wasn't much use, I'm still getting used to waving
a scimitar around I suppose.
We rushed up the stairs in pursuit of Vander Anderhoff.
It seemed like Shesara and Umbril had been having problems of their own on the ground floor. They
had been attacked by other ne'er-do-wells and guard dogs.
I fired my crossbow at the fleeing Vander - and missed! Raz took him down with a hurled throwing axe.
As he joined the fight I tended to Vander to make sure he wasn't going to bleed to death from that
axe wound (this single action of mercy was to save my life later on!).
Next, there were cultists peeking into the corridor and casting sleep spells, but that didn't really
hold us up. Two were swiftly dispatched, but after that it all went wrong.
A grey bearded ogre called Tusk appeared from a steamy smokey room at the end of the corridor and
started to lay about with a great club.
He struck Raz, he stood firm, but seemed dazed as none of his own attacks fell true after that. Shesara
also stood against the ogre, although I now wish she hadn't. Umbril vanished into a corner, while I
summoned a dog to attack the ogre from the rear. I also pin cushioned the blighter a couple of times
with my crossbow, but it wasn't enough to bring him down.
Then a tragedy happened. The ogre struck down Raz, knocking him senseless to the floor and then with
an almighty blow he crushed the life out of Shesara and sent her flying.
All I could do was threaten him with my crossbow, the bodies of my enemies and comrades alike all fallen
about at my feet.
But what luck! For just then the ogre must have noticed Vander twitch and groan behind me because
he said in the language of the giants,
'Stop fight now. I take master. You go.'
I agreed to the terms of the parley immediately. Not stopping to see what else was going on, I lifted
up the unconscious body of Raz and instructed Umbril (who had appeared again once the fighting had finished)
to carry Shesara although she was clearly dead.
(On a side note : If I ever see my sarcastic tutor Dr Phibbs again I will tell him that although I
did take 'Exotic Languages 101 : Giant' as a joke, in my third year of study at the lyceum, a joke that
Dr Phibbs did not see as funny at all, it saved if not my life, certainly Raz's. Maybe the erstwhile
doctor doesn't care one jot for the life of an illiterate barbarian, but it just goes to show - all
knowledge is useful in the right circumstances!)
I left Umbril to carry the bodies on one horse while I rode back to the city as fast as I could.
It was still before noon when I arrived and it appeared as if Tashluta , for want of a better expression,
was descending into anarchy. All because of a missing body? What a silly superstitious lot these people
seem to be!
I tried to explain to the gate guards that we had located the villains of the piece, but they seemed
to be more interested in quelling the angry crowds. I could not find Constable Puddy-puddy anywhere,
the wretch!
When Umbril arrived we took the bodies to Father Varal Estrin, who helped us, a fine fellow! Although
he did charge us for healing Raz. There wasn't much to do to help Shesara though. I felt so bad about
her, just lying there, a slightly puzzled expression of anger on her face, but we didn't have time
to mourn, I wanted to get back there and avenge her!
We went around town trying to get people to help us, but it didn't work out that well. We tried to
rouse the mobs, but we were just jeered at. We tried the usual places were heroes gather, the guilds
and temples, but in the end, we went back to the slaughterhouse with just Father Estrin's nephew (a
young lad called Kintay), and a lady paladin called Jasmine.
When we arrived back at the slaughterhouse in the afternoon, at first it appeared deserted. Anderhoff
and Tusk were gone and the place had been stripped of anything of value.
I talked to one of the injured guard dogs that confirmed to us, the ogre had left carrying its master
and several large bags. At least the creature would be easy to track if need be.
We searched the cellars again, the areas we had not seen, and came across two locked doors. One had
the sounds of weeping behind it and the other had chanting...
Another door was discovered which lead to a room that was decked out as if for a visitor. Just as if
some mad crazy cultist was expecting his great aunt Mildred to call.
We went back to the locked door and puzzled over it. We turned to Umbril, but he confessed he was not
skilled enough to unlock such a well crafted lock. He suggested dissolving it with acid, which sounded
like a tip-top idea, but for the fact no one possessed any.
Just then , wonder of wonders, the illiterate Raz bested us all with his astounding display of
intellect (or an intimate knowledge of cell doors?) and pointed out that since it was in fact a cell door
the hinges were on the OUTSIDE and we could simply pop them out and the portal would be breached!
No sooner had he said it, than it was done. Inside we found a weeping man called Clorie, a local
carpenter, who explained he was to be a sacrifice in some dark ritual...
This left us with just one more door, the one with the chanting behind it. I turned to Jasmine and
smiled, but she looked up at me with disdain. I had a sudden pang of regret over Shesara's passing.
She may have been a cleric, and a foreigner to boot, but whenever I smiled at her, she smiled back.
She seemed to be a good girl and was always saying her prayers to that pagan god of theirs, but now
she was dead.
For a moment I reflected on the life that my father had led when he was young, as a free booting
adventurer. He had a thousand fireside tales of his younger days, fighting great evils with his
boon companions at his side. My brothers had loved all these tales, and in truth I did too, but unlike
them I have never had any desire to emulate them. I was always the bookish one, the youngest son, the
one tied to his mothers apron strings. But here I was now, caught up in some mad-cap escapade with
people I barely new, trying to defeat evil and save the day!
The next letter I write home, well, they will hardly believe it! (Assuming of course I survive long
enough to pen this hypothetical missive).
Again a great regret swept over my being, over the loss of someone I had only known for four days, but
that I had counted as a friend. I fought the emotion down and pointed at the iron-bound door across the
corridor from us. Destiny awaited.
