Tag: journal

#Lore24 – Entry #142 – Muckenmyre Month #21 – Tied and Tormented Twin Twats from Tempest Tor

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris, Town Marshal of Grimbridge.

I finished my task quickly, ignoring the pleas for mercy from the twins as I bound them, one at a time.  I was not gentle with them, for they had caused disruption in Grimbridge, aided the bandits, and forced us into the swamp after them.  I gave each a demonstration of the pain-causing techniques I knew so well, making them squeal when they resisted me.  This would not be the last time they would suffer such pains, for they would prove quite insistent on trying to free themselves during our return trip to the town.

Once finished, the twins were bound identically, somehow fitting I think, stripped of their scant clothing and gagged with makeshift wooden bits and hogtied in the most extreme way I could manage, forcing their bodies to bend to their limit, even going so far as to bind their big toes together as well as fashion a tight web of leather strings over their breasts and chests, with a similarly tight binding between their legs and most sensitive areas.  I made sure that they would find no comfortable position to rest their bodies and took the extra precaution of binding their individual fingers together to further dissuade spellcasting.

I’m not certain if Ashleyr was impressed or unsettled; she remained neutral throughout, though she did thank me for the demonstration, and expressed her hopes that this would help to serve as a warning to outsiders not to meddle with the Muckenmyre.  I bowed to her and expressed my gratitude for her aid in their capture, and asked how I should get her portion of the reward to her, but she shook her head and told me that wouldn’t be needed, and I believe she thought it was amusing that I had showed her such deference.  She reopened the swirling portal and bid me to leap through first, seeing her vines rising once again to take hold of the bound twins.  I bowed to her and thanked her again, bid her farewell and received such sentiments in kind, then made my leap.

As I came through, once again upon the raised altar within the draconic temple, I heard Augra’s furious roar, and as my feet touched down, I saw her lifting Jaggedtusk over her head, saw blood streaming down her body from several wounds, and watched as she roughly slammed him first into the wall, and then upon the floor, firmly planting her booted foot against his neck and letting out a low growl, daring him to move again.  Jessiryn sat nearby, grimacing as Satella healed him.  He saw me first, and Satella turned toward me, her grin widening.  Behind me, the grasping vines brought the bound twins through the portal, depositing them atop the altar on either side of me, before they retreated and the maelstrom dissipated, the power draining from the room.

I quickly descended the platform and offered my apologies for my sudden departure, expressing that I would accept any punishment for my actions.  Satella assured me that they were fine, and Jessiryn said that I was only gone for perhaps half a minute.  I figured as much, given what I had witness with Augra finishing the fight.  Though I reiterated my need for punishment, Satella shushed me and Jessiryn didn’t seem to fully grasp what I was getting at, saying that there was no need once again, for I had managed to retrieve the prey that had brought us here to begin with.  I made a quick explanation of what happened, admitting that I didn’t understand exactly how so much time had passed for me but so little for them.

Augra refused Satella’s healing, indicating that her wounds were not bad, and true enough, she seemed to be moving fine, and her bleeding had mostly stopped already.  In short order, I bound Jaggedtusk, not as drastically as I had the twins, for he would be walking out ahead of us, though on a choking leash, and Augra retrieved the twins, carrying one under each arm, adding no comfort to their situation.

By the time we had returned to the surface, closing the hidden door behind us for good measure, Joseph and Abdel had freed the prisoners and found their clothing amongst the stolen goods, and had taken care of the task of retrieving ears from the dead bandits to prove their numbers.  I would learn more about them in the coming days, but it seemed that Jaggedtusk had kidnapped a noble and her maid, intending to hold them for ransom, and the mazoku had bravely led the guards after them, though an ambush had seen his men slain and him captured.  I could sense tension between the noble and the mazoku, though, repulsion on her part even, and knew there was more to the story, but will hold that for later.

We rested for an hour or so, me sharing Ashleyr’s gifts with my allies and the prisoners, and then we set about our task of loading the prisoners onto the flatboats, along with the most valuable of the stolen goods to return to the merchants.  It would take all six of the Grimbridge party to pilot the boats out, my first time doing such a thing, though I found the task not especially difficult.  Following Jessiryn and Augra, we made our way through the swamp, following the slow flow of the Crocodile Run, all the way back to Grimbridge, arriving in town around mid-morning.

Word spread fast as we were spotted coming into town, and by the time we had reached the docks nearest the Span, the mayor, the council, some of the merchants, and dozens of onlookers had swarmed us, the town abuzz with already wildly exaggerated stories of our deeds.  It was a strange experience for me, receiving such praise for what simply had to be done, but I will admit…it did feel good to be shown such gratitude.  Never in my time in the Empire had I been praised for hunting down my target like this.  I may have received a simple “Good work, slave” for my efforts, most of the time not even that, for it was simply my duty to do so. 

Working quickly with the constable and guard, we hauled our prisoners to the town jail, immediately overcrowding it, though we made special arrangements for the twins, who by now were whimpering in agony and begging to be freed behind their gags.  We would grant them some relief for now, placing them in heavy pillories set up outside the jail and securing them there with manacles and heavy chains, though I insisted on keeping their gags in place and their fingers bound, lest they manage to cast a spell of some kind. 

The rest of that day is something of a blur, for my party was hailed as heroes of the town for our actions, though neither myself, Jessiryn, or Augra were exactly comfortable being the center of attention; Satella took it all in stride, though, encouraging us to enjoy the moment.  I will admit, I did enjoy myself after a time, perhaps after the second drink I had of the local whiskey had started taking effect. 

I had never been allowed to indulge in such things before, not as a celebratory measure, anyway, though I had shared drink with my masters during my early days following my basic training in the arts of pleasure, before I was brought into the fold as an inquisitor.  Was it wrong of me to feel good about my actions, about my lack of control in those moments?  Was it wrong that I allowed myself to act as a free person would, to accept the kindness of Grimbridge once more?

I am rather ashamed to admit that my reservations would not last, and that I have little memory of what occurred after the third shot of the whiskey.  It looked like pure water, burned like fire, and went down so easily… I would only have true regret for my actions, whatever they might have been, the following morning, when I awoke in my bed in the mayor’s home, experiencing my first, and hopefully last, hangover.

#Lore24 – Entry #141 – Muckenmyre Month #20 – The Heart of the Swamp

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris, Town Marshal of Grimbridge.

I landed on the other side of the portal in a crouch, ready to strike at the twins who I assumed would be waiting for me. 

They were, just not in a way I had been prepared for.  Both of them were wound quite tightly in a mass of shifting, writhing vines, their bodies pressed closely to one another, a look of panic on their faces as the vines wound around their mouths, forcing them open.  I made to run from the vines myself, but in the next moment I realized they weren’t coming for me.

The air around me felt drastically different than it had moments ago.  Looking around, I saw that it was somehow now twilight, the bluish-purple light of a fading sun spreading over the trees around a large clearing.  Arrayed in a circular pattern around us were twenty-foot tall stones, worn smooth with age, but still clearly inscribed with faintly glowing runes, some draconic, others I did not recognize.  Though I felt some kind of power in the air, I could not identify its source, almost like a barely perceptible heartbeat, and perhaps even the slow, steady breathing, of some great, massive thing.

I actually jerked in surprise as a figure suddenly stood near us.  They weren’t there just moments before, and I hadn’t sensed their approach.  Glowing eyes regarded me warmly, and after my momentary shock had passed, I realized that I recognized the eyes.  It was Ashleyr, the swamp witch.  She didn’t wear her cloak now, so I could see her fully, saw that her skin was a sandy brown tone, with short black hair, her horns dark, curling around her slender face which wore a pleased smile.  Her clothes were simple linens, a shirt and pants also in earthy tones, though her feet were bare upon the lush mossy carpet we stood upon.

She welcomed me to the Heart of the Muckenmyre and bid me to follow her to a rather simple cabin nearby, the twins apparently forgotten for the time being.  I still could not get a scent off her, just the ever-present swampy scent.  I did pick up on several other odors as we approached, a few making my nose curl, and I saw a multitude of herbs hanging on a rack, saw the large cauldron bubbling with some strange-smelling brew, and Thornton the muskrat lounging nearby, chewing on some berries, his unnaturally astute eyes following us.  Ashleyr bid me to have a seat on the cabin’s porch while she went inside, coming back out with a wooden tray and matching cups filled with a sweet tea of some unfamiliar blend along with some freshly baked bread made with nuts and bananas.

Though I won’t relate all of the details of our conversation here, for it took what had to have been hours, though I couldn’t tell that any time had passed from the strange perpetual twilight, I will cover the most important details.  She had many questions about me and the lands of the Empire; having never seen them herself, she was quite curious, and unlikely to ever travel far beyond the borders of the swamp.  Then the conversation turned to myself, what it was I was doing chasing a couple of troublemakers into the Muckenmyre, what I was planning on doing now that I was technically no longer property.  I had no good answers for her, though she did give me plenty of things to consider later, when time permitted.  Though she appeared to me as being no older than the twins, Ashleyr was possessed of wisdom befitting an ancient sage, and for all I know of her, she may in fact be centuries old herself.

I felt no reason to hesitate when speaking to her, no suspicion of her motives besides simply seeking knowledge, and my own inquisitive nature could not resist asking questions of her in turn.  I inquired of the nature of Swamp Dragon Hold and the portal the twins had brought to life.  The true name of the site had been lost to time, for the Muckenmyre had not yet been born when it was constructed, and though the landscape had changed drastically following the Great Cataclysm, the draconic temple itself was mostly intact.  Based upon her studies of the portal device, she believed that it had once been able to link vast distances, perhaps to any point on Andyllion, or even realms beyond, but its power was now limited to the Muckenmyre, and only to its Heart when she and it permitted such a visit; she had simply allowed the twins to feed the portal their own energies when she sensed us amongst the ruins.  I could not get confirmation from her, but I had the impression that she knew of everyone and everything that ventured into the Muckenmyre’s borders, perhaps could even pinpoint them in some way.

The Heart of the Swamp itself was an ancient druidic ritual site that had somehow survived the Cataclysm and had been displaced when the land had changed beneath it.  It still retained its power, though now it was one with the swamp, and was still used by those with the proper knowledge and no intention of causing harm, or, at least, that was Ashelyr’s intention as the caretaker of the site.  She told me of the most sacred of times, correlating to the celestial alignments as many of the rituals and celebrations back in the Empire did, and of some of the most frequent druidic sects that visited the Heart. 

There was much more, but I will skip ahead to my departure from the Heart.  Once our conversation had died off, and I felt rested and refreshed, still a little disoriented since time seemed not to have passed, Ashleyr told me that she would be seeing me back to the dragon temple, back through the portal.  Before I would leave, she offered me a flask of tea for my companions as well as a wrapped loaf of sweetbread for them.  She also gave me a well-used leather satchel filled with some of her herbal concoctions for future use, in return for what she deemed “a most pleasant conversation”. 

Before returning to the circle, she also handed me several bundles of rope and thin leather strips.  When I inquired as to their purpose, she simply said that I would need some way to secure the twins, and that she was curious to see some of the prisoner restraint methods I had spoken of during our discussions.  What was a little more time in a place like this?

#Lore24 – Entry #140 – Muckenmyre Month #19 – The Depths of the Muckenmyre

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris, Town Marshal of Grimbridge.

Beyond the stairs, the tomb, or whatever it was we were in, opened up into a four-way intersection; there was a door to our right, a shorter corridor straight ahead leading to a chamber, and a longer corridor to the left.  The structure was much better preserved down here, and along the corridor were dragon-shaped sconces positioned every ten feet or so along the walls, most holding aloft crystals that provided the faint light that filled the area.  I had seen such structures in the Empire, the same kind of general layouts and furnishings in the same styles, supposedly some kind of temples for worshipping the ancient dragons.  There is even a massive complex of draconic make resting below Draconis Magna, though only the Emperor and his most trusted allies knew just how far it extended.

The scent trail was clear, though, very distinct over the musty, ancient air that filled the tomb, as were the footprints in the thick dust.  Our prey had gone straight ahead, turned about and gone to the longer corridor to the left.  From here, I could see a larger dragon statue looming in the gloom at the center of the larger chamber ahead, standing tall, wings spread, roaring.  I led us to the left, Jessiryn moving silently beside me, bow at the ready.  Augra lingered for a moment longer, staring at the dragon statue, before she followed us.  The trail continued to the first branch of the corridor, turning right, down another tunnel.  There was another doubling back, leading to a door a short distance in and to the left, which now stood open.  I heard the twins’ voices ahead now, rhythmic, some kind of chanting in the draconic tongue. 

Alerting my companions to this, we hurried onward.  The next chamber was irregularly shaped, vaguely square, though with shaved corners and high platforms in two corners bearing a pair of dragon statues, one golden, one red, seemingly posed in battle across the expanse of the room.  Small benches lined the area between them, sized for kobolds, most likely. 

The chanting came from the south, louder now, another pair of doors standing wide.  An unnatural mist had began to roll through the opening, and the chanting had grown more intense, some kind of spell incantation, calling out to the elemental forces.  What were the twins up to?  Power thrummed through the stonework, and I could feel it growing stronger in the air.

We readied ourselves for whatever may be coming as best we could and approached the opening.  The chamber beyond was massive, oddly shaped, widening out at the lower end, perhaps over fifty feet high.  Stairs rose to a high, raised platform in the center of the chamber, topped by some kind of altar, which is where the twins were now, one on either end, pouring magic into the device that rested there.  Behind them, on far wall, a massive sheet of fog swirled and roiled like a whirlpool, something massive seemingly trying to come through the portal as the fog bulged and shrank.  The scent of the swamp was somehow growing stronger by the moment, and wind began howl and swirl out from the platform.

My body reacted of its own accord in the next moment, pushing Jessiryn out of the way of Jaggedtusk’s axe as it swung toward its head, the orc having appeared out of nowhere.  He moved far too quickly for his speed to have been natural, so I assumed he was magically enhanced by the twins, likely had been made invisible as well.  Augra roared a challenge and met the bandit leader’s next swing with her own; he was a good foot shorter than her, but their blows met with equal force.  Jessiryn had dropped his bow and drawn his twin short swords while Satella had begun a prayer to Yurisaya.

Thinking to stop whatever the twins were summoning, I raced up the stairs; if even one of them broke off to turn their spells upon us, all of us could be in danger.  As I topped the stairs, they spotted me, a look of surprise upon their faces.  Thunder rumbled from beyond the swirling fog of the portal.  I readied myself to dodge whatever spells they threw my way.

I did not expect them to turn and run away from me, nor did I expect them to dive headlong into the maelstrom of the portal.

Nor would I expect that I would chase after them in that moment, a sudden impulse that overrode my intention to aide my allies, but upon later reflection, it was as if something drew me after them, something more powerful than either of the twins, something far more ancient than I could have imagined.

#Lore24 – Entry #139 – Muckenmyre Month #18 – Secrets Beneath Swamp Drake Hold

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris, Town Marshal of Grimbridge.

The fetid scent of the swamp was heavy in the moist, vine-shrouded tunnel we found ourselves in.  Even the remarkable strength of the draconic construction couldn’t withstand the combined might of the swamp and time.  As we crept down the tunnel, I saw that it was lined with alcoves, each with a draconic visage carved into the walls at the rear of them, at least where the swamp hadn’t burst through or colonies of insects hadn’t nested.  Ahead, torchlight flickered, and the trio of voices grew louder, perhaps a hundred feet or so down from the stairs. 

I overheard some of their conversation, something about the significance of a particular statue in the next room, some laughter from the twins, sounds of exaggerated moaning and panting.  Easing toward the doorway, I crouched and eased myself out to peer inside the next chamber.  It was fairly large and rectangular, though the area off to the right was collapsed and partially flooded.  My quarry stood at far end on the opposite side of the big chamber, before a large, carved visage of a dragon, Charity leaning against Jaggedtusk, rubbing herself against him, while Chastity was pressing her ass against the sculpture, rubbing it and making the lewd noises as she squeezed her breasts. 

At least they were distracted, though there wasn’t much in the way of cover between them and us, and there was a good fifty feet of space between us.  If we just rushed out and tried to surprise them, it was very likely they’d have time to get a spell or two off.  Jaggedtusk had his axe resting on the floor, but leaned against its haft, so we’d have to contend with that as well. 

As Chastity rubbed her ass over the sculpture, there was a shifting of stone as something clicked loudly into place, and I held my breath, tensing to make a run out of the tunnel.  The twins laughed teasingly, both of them going to either side of the carving.  Working fast, they probed along the runes surrounding the dragon, then started pressing at the scales and horns of the draconic head.  There were more clicks, then a heavy sliding sound, a rumble of heavy, ancient machinery that vibrated the floor.  Then there was a hiss of escaping air, and the draconic visage split open, ancient doors sliding apart, revealing another stairwell descending even deeper. 

I looked to Satella, who had pressed herself close to me to watch the scene.  I nodded toward our prey, then back to the hall, asking for her opinion on how we should proceed.  With Jaggedtusk leading, one twin on either side, the trio descended into the newly revealed tunnel.  She shook her head, and eased back, motioning toward the tunnel that led to the surface.  In a low whisper, even though the trio were out of earshot by now, she said that we must help our comrades before giving chase, that we couldn’t risk the dangers that may lay beyond.  I nodded my agreement and so we made our way back to the upper level, bypassing the prisoners again, and slipping out into the courtyard again. 

I saw Jessiryn waiting and looking anxious and gave him the signal to start the attack.  I won’t spend overlong on the details; needless to say, by now, the bandits were getting drunk, and their lack of magical support meant that many died not knowing what hit them, while those that had any sense at all quickly surrendered, and we had only minor scrapes and bruises for our efforts.  The fight was over in minutes but took Satella and I nearly an hour to secure the survivors in a way that would ensure they gave us no trouble.  I kept an eye on the door to the jail frequently, but the missing trio didn’t make an appearance as we fought off the rest. 

Once we had the bandits taken care of, a dozen of them still alive, we left Abdel and Joseph behind to tend to the prisoners while the four of us chased after the primary prey. 

As we approached the recently revealed passageway, Augra was on edge, not liking the tight spacing her large frame would have to deal with.  Jessiryn and I led the way, while Satella took up the rear, as her eyesight was undoubtedly the worst amongst us being human.  There was a faint light coming from below, enough that I could at least see the end of the stairs, and so far, I couldn’t detect anything odd in the air other than a mustiness that reminded me of a tomb.  I mentioned this, and Satella advised us to be watchful for the restless dead, and of potential traps.  It was entirely possible that we would find our prey dead in a few short moments.  Still, I continued forward, intent upon my purpose.

#Lore24 – Entry #138 – Muckenmyre Month #17 – Against the Bandits

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris, Town Marshal of Grimbridge.

We approached Swamp Drake Hold once again, silent but for the faint rattle of the town guards’ weapons and armor.  Off in the darkness of the tall grasses, I could just hear the sound of movement, picked up the scent of a crocodile, heard the sound of flesh tearing from the body of one of the bandits Augra had downed earlier. 

The swamp wastes little time, it seems.

Our approach was masked by the continued celebration within the walls of the old fort, of music and laughter, though the twins’ pyrotechnics had since stopped.  Coming around to the side of the fort where Augra had earlier scouted, Satella and I eased along the mossy stone toward the old window that would be our entry point.  I eased myself up to peer over the smooth stone sill, keeping my ears low, and sought my quarry.  My tail twitched after a few moments; the twins were nowhere to be seen, nor was Jaggedtusk, the makeshift throne sitting empty as the bandits danced around and shared more of their ill-gotten drink. 

I had a scant few moments to assess the situation and hope that the twins would reappear before the attack was set to commence; Jessiryn and Abdel would open fire once they had climbed the walls.  I sniffed the air, picked up their scent trail mixed in amongst the smell of the many unwashed bodies, angling toward what we had identified as Jaggedtusk’s den.  Guessing what was likely underway, I thought then that perhaps we had actually received another blessing.  When I spotted Jessiryn atop the broken wall, readying his bow, I managed to meet his eye and quickly flashed elvish hand talk (something I had learned during my inquisitor training), indicating what I planned to do.  Surprise was clear upon his face at seeing what he’d likely assumed was something of an elvish secret, but after a moment, he nodded, and signed back that he had understood, easing back from the edge as he motioned Abdel to do the same.

Waiting for the right moment, when the bandits’ dancing had their line of sight mostly away from us, I slipped through the window and quickly ducked behind some water barrels and whispered to Satella to follow when the revelers had shifted away from us again.  Together we kept to the shadows at the edge of the fort and approached the leader’s den, the twins’ scents growing fresher.  I had expected to hear the trio in the throes of intense sex, but the den was strangely quiet, their trail leading beyond his den, toward the prison, and the two orcs standing guard at its doors.  I pondered what we would do for a few moments, then eased back into the shadows by one of the inner supporting walls, seeing Jessiryn crouched low in the darkness.  I flashed more hand talk to him, advising him to get ready to strike if my plan didn’t go as I’d hoped.

Once I had told Satella my plan, she simply nodded and prepared herself in the shadow-filled niche nearest to Jaggedtusk’s den, behind some recently looted crates.  Watching the two orcish guards a few moments more, I made my move, scurrying quickly on all fours from the shadows, lingering just long enough that my movements would be spotted, my tail lingering just a few heartbeats longer as I slipped by the boar hide covering doorway.  Surveying the room quickly, hearing heavy footsteps and muttered orcish approaching, I dove headlong into the pile of hides and furs that served as the chief’s bed, ignoring the sting of his strong scent mingling with that of the twins in my nose, the whole room heady with the scent of recent lovemaking. 

I barely had time enough to situate myself before the hide was pulled aside, one of the orc guards peering inside, his axe raised as he looked for whatever it was he’d seen enter the room.  His senses told him there was indeed something inside, and so he moved in, his companion coming up behind him, though he lingered at the doorway.  I dared not breathe as the orc moved carefully closer, trying to understand why he hadn’t seen the creature that had just came in.  From my position beneath the hides, I saw the shadow of Satella appear just behind the other orc, saw him stiffen has she delivered her nerve strike, momentarily paralyzing him, before she took hold of his head and gave a sharp twist. 

Hearing the crack of his companion’s neck bones, the orc looming near me turned, and at the same moment I threw aside the hides and was upon him, striking his throat with the edge of my hand with all the force I could muster, shattering his windpipe and any ability he had to call out in alarm.  Before he could do more than stagger, I delivered a full-bodied palm-strike straight into his nose, and as he staggered back, blood spraying, managed to grab hold of his head, wrenching it back and forth, getting the snap of bone; I let him fall limply to the floor and joined Satella by the door, waiting for the inevitable call of alert. 

But none came, though we waited for several moments longer.  Emboldened by our dealing with the guards, we drug their bodies to the bedding and hid them as best we could, then made our way silently toward the prison, eased the door open, and, seeing the way clear, moved inside.  I had perhaps expected Jaggedtusk and the twins to be doing something lewd with the prisoners, but to my surprise, they were nowhere in sight.  The prison was little more than a sizeable square room, with one corner containing a barred cell, and within it, a trio of women, shackled to the walls and floor, blindfolded, gagged, and naked.  Two were human, one was a mazoku, and, as Satella and I passed by the cell, none of them aware of our presence, I realized the mazoku was actually a rarer male as we passed and he shifted his position, though his body was every bit as shapely as a woman’s. 

But they were not our targets, not yet, and were fine as they were for now.  I led us onward, into the short hallway beyond, and saw stairs leading down, the faint flicker of torchlight visible below.  I paused at the top of the stairs, hearing muffled conversation drifting up from somewhere beneath us.  Intent upon my targets, I nodded to Satella and we crept down the stairs, into the dimly lit unknown that lay before us.

 

#Lore24 – Entry #137 – Muckenmyre Month #16 – Swamp Drake Hold

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris, Town Marshal of Grimbridge.

Though my primary targets were the twins, as a town marshal of Grimbridge, I was just as obligated to deal with the bandit threat and see them brought to justice alongside them, though the laws of the town stated that bandits, like pirates, were to be dealt with harshly unless they surrendered themselves for judgement.  Unlikely, given what I knew of bandits from the outskirts of the Empire; I doubted they were particularly different here.

Perhaps a hundred yards away from the nearest wall, at Jessiryn’s suggestion, I made heavy use of some of the plentiful mud to cover my skin, fur, and hair as he did; it would make it that much harder to be spotted, and my coloration would stand out, even to the less keen eyes of the human bandits, in the browns and greens that filled the area.  We had come to an outlying section of ancient collapsed stone, covered in moss and vines.  Augra had make quick work of a viper that had called the rubble home, snatching it up and tearing its head free as if it were nothing, and we made a makeshift hide using some additional moss and fallen branches to aid in concealing Satella, Abdel, and Joeseph while we scouted the old fort. 

With the general layout in mind, myself, Jessiryn, and Augra set out to locate and deal with any sentries, then see what we could gather about what was going on inside.  From the sound of things, the bandits were beginning a celebration of their successful raid on the caravan.  As we spread out and crept closer, I heard laughter and music start up, then saw flares of light fly into the sky, erupting low over the clearing in a multicolored pyrotechnic display, likely the work of the twins.  I could make out the well-worn draconic visages in the ancient stonework, even a few runes of draconic text as well, though it was far too decayed for me to have read it properly in the low light.

I came upon the first of the bandit watchers perhaps fifty feet from the old fort as he was pacing back and forth, his attention drawn to the celebration instead of his assigned duties.  When his gaze turned to another burst of magical light in the sky, I rose from the tall patch of swamp grass I’d been hiding in and brought him down silently, one hand over his mouth, then a quick twist and snap of bone, dragging him into the tall grass to conceal the body.  The next sentry was likewise distracted, and I dealt with him in kind.  I saw one bandit atop a section of the wall make his way toward the edge, drawn by something I didn’t hear or see, only to get an arrow through his throat before being pulled over the edge with nary a sound that could be heard over the party.

Making my way to the wall, I crept along its length to the makeshift gate that had been fashioned from logs and peered through the openings.  Indeed, the majority of the bandits were distracted by the twins, the blue- and red-skinned mazoku dancing around the big fire half-naked, magic sparkling around them as they danced to approving shouts of the bandits.  I counted a dozen of them, plus the leader, the orc named Jaggedtusk, who sat watching the dancers with great interest.  Another trio of bandits were off to one side, playing the lively tune on their fiddles and a flute.  The smell of unwashed bodies was strong, and I could discern there were other orcs about, for I picked up at least two different scents lingering besides that of the leader.

I watched in silence for a time, counting off the minutes in my head as the booze began to flow.  I spotted one of the other orcs making their way to the leader’s side, leaning down to say something to him.  Jaggedtusk laughed, shook his head, then went to the nearby roasting boars, tearing free a bloody chunk for himself, following it with a long draw from a dark bottle.  After about thirty minutes, I made my way back to the hide, meeting up with Augra and Jesiryn on the way.  He’d dealt with the one guard atop the wall, and she had dealt with two more, one of them an orc, and from their vantage points, had spotted another three amongst the bandits besides Jaggedtusk.  They filled in the details of the fort as best they could discern, indicating what was likely the storehouse for the stolen goods, the barracks, and the leader’s den.  It also appeared that the bandits had repurposed the old jail, and may have had at least two prisoners inside, perhaps more, women from what Augra had indicated she had heard. 

I reiterated the details of what I had learned of Charity and Chastity, and emphasized that they should be considered amongst the most dangerous of the bandits.  One well-placed spell could take out all of us, if their power hadn’t been exaggerated by the sailors and their previous displays.  I had originally intended on taking them alive, but if they’d thrown their lot in with the bandits, then they would suffer their fate as well, should the situation deem it necessary.  I could deal with them if I could catch them by surprise and my aim was true; arcanists cannot cast their spells without their voices or their arms, after all.  Though Satella was not as used to stealth as I, she was agile, and could make a decent effort to keep herself hidden, so we would prioritize the twins while the others dealt with the bandits.  Jessiryn and Abdel would get atop the walls and open up with their bows, and Augra and Joeseph would come in from either of the makeshift gates, while Satella and I would slip in and get as close to the twins as possible to neutralize them quickly.

The attack plan was solid, and thanks to Satella, we had received a blessing from Yurisaya, but as with most plans I have been involved with in my life, it would not  survive the first few moments of the attack.

#Lore24 – Entry #136 – Muckenmyre Month #15 – Into the Muckenmyre

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris, Town Marshal of Grimbridge.

Any scent trail that might have lingered was gone as we moved along the many marshy areas along the Crocodile Run, but Jessiryn seemed to know the area the bandits had described to us, keeping himself at the bow of the boat while Augra handled pushing us along with the long pole at the stern.  The areas off the Way were full of life, and I saw plenty of the titular crocodiles as we went along.  I did see a few indications of recent travel along the route, though I missed some that our keen-eyed rangers didn’t, usually scrapes along the many trees in the area or broken branches, even a few muddy footprints, perhaps where they had to kick off after their boats became stuck; the attack had come at night, and from the descriptions we had, most of the crew had been human.  Plus, they were likely distracted by their new allies.

I’m not good with casual conversations, so I had made no efforts to strike nay up with our new companions, but thankfully Satella had no such reservations, and tried to learn as much as she could of Jessiryn and Augra while we traveled.  I could tell some of her questions were refined from her interrogation training, but nobody else seemed to have picked up on it.  Still, Augra would not speak, and I began to wonder if she couldn’t, only grunting or making gestures, while Jessiryn handled the lengthier explanations.  Satella even had the town guards, Joeseph and Abdel, chatting before long.

Jessiryn had been part of the elvish army, tied to one of their Great Houses on this side of the world.  Elves were far more uncommon around the Empire, something to do with the lingering taint from the damage caused by the Cataclysm we kerryn caused in ancient times that can physically affect them, as I’ve been told.  He had been assigned to a scouting unit attached to a larger force that had bee set on reclaiming some wildland territory from the savage tribes of orcs, goblins, gnolls, and other ill-tempered humanoid races, but things had turned bad for them, the numbers they were facing much larger than they had counted on.  His unit had been overwhelmed, and many of them captured with little hope of surviving the orcs.  For whatever her reasons, Augra had saved him, initially claiming him as her prize for the night’s entertainments.  While the rest of her tribe were enjoying their dark festivities, she and him had made their escape.  They were both outcasts in some way or another, he tired of his people’s constant attempts at war, and her never truly fitting in amongst the orcs due to some amount of upbringing she had had amongst civilized people.  She’s apparently quite the talker once you get to know her, though the scowl she shot at him upon saying that may indicate otherwise. 

And so it was they had stuck together, living off the land and venturing wherever their whims took them, doing odd jobs here and there that made use of their skills, having come from the wildlands to the far northeast all the way to the swamps of the Muckenmyre.  Jessiryn admitted that they cared little for bandits themselves, having dealt with their fair share of them over the last couple of years, usually in the very roles they were taking on now. 

I was not entirely prepared for the questions that he asked of me, though, having thought I was perhaps beneath notice for the time being as I kept my senses trained on the swamps ahead of us.  He said he could guess Satella’s nature by her holy symbol and garb but stated that I was something of a puzzle, unlike other kerryn he’d encountered, either in the cities or roaming the spaces in between them.  I kept my explanations short, that I had been shipwrecked and wound up in Grimbridge, a slave of them Empire, now in a strange land.  He could tell there were big gaps in my story, of course, for I made little effort to hide them, but he didn’t press me to tell what I truly was, perhaps sensing my discomfort with the subject. 

It is something of a strange feeling to admit that I have grown disillusioned with my duties as a trainer of slaves, perhaps more so with my status as an inquisitor amongst them.  Having tasted what it means to be free these past weeks…I am honestly surprised that my mind would begin to change so quickly.  I still feel a great conflict within me…I still think often of my service to the Emperor and my duties within the Stellae Illustris, and wonder if I could honestly return to them now that I’ve tasted what it is like outside of his influence.  Before, the Empire was my entire world, and I never questioned anything that I was told or that I did, for it was simply the way things were. 

Now…now things have become greatly more complicated.

Our journey along the Crocodile Run lasted perhaps three or four hours, and as evening shadows began to lengthen, Jessiryn had us pull into a moss-shrouded cove and tie off the boat.  Once we were ashore, he made a quick and crude map of the area ahead of us, with Augra grunting and making her own corrections when he had a detail wrong.  We would likely start encountering bandit lookouts soon, for we were perhaps half a mile overland to their hideout, a particular area of the Muckenmyre where there was a decent amount of solid ground amongst the ruins of an ancient city that had not fully sank into the swamp, even a fairly well-preserved fortification known as Swamp Drake Hold.  The bandits Satella and I had spoken to had mentioned old buildings and ancient walls but had said nothing of it being an ancient fortification. 

Abdel said that he recalled hearing about the place a few times while growing up, said it had a bunch of dragon motifs about it, mostly worn down and hard to make out, but had never been there himself, though had a few cousins that had ventured out there a few times, though this was long before the bandits had apparently taken over.  It had been some years since bandits had made themselves known this close to Grimbridge, so having a place like that to use as a base made sense.

We would need to survey the area first before we could make any sort of plans about how to proceed with capturing our quarry, so we set off, making use of what light we had left, with Augra and Jessiryn leading the way, me close behind them, while Satella and the town guards followed a a bit behind us.  For all of her immense size, Augra moved through the overgrown swamp like a wraith, even managing to hide herself from me a few times as we went, even though I had her scent.

With darkness overtaking us, Jessiryn and I heard the first signs that we were upon the old fort, faint conversation ahead, though we had yet to spot any lookouts, and I smelled cooking boar meat on the breeze.  Now things would get dangerous.

#Lore24 – Entry #135 – Muckenmyre Month #14 – New Allies at the Wayfare Inn

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris, Town Marshal of Grimbridge.

I awoke about midday, still feeling as though I had been soundly beaten, but my wounds were noticeably less painful after having rested.  It was another unfamiliar room in which I found myself, though this one was…cozy, I suppose.  It wasn’t large, but had enough room for two beds, the second containing a sleeping Satella, a wardrobe and chest of drawers, neither matching, but both having seen quite a lot of use in their time.  The scent of the swamp, though heavy upon us, was lessened now that we were within the witch’s domain, and over it I smelled fresh bread and smoked meat, boar, if my nose wasn’t mistaken. 

I got out of bed as quietly as I could, biting down against the many pains in my body, and I let Satella rest as I slipped out of the room.  The narrow hall beyond had an ancient feel to it but was well maintained and clean.  The Witches of the Ways were adamant about providing travelers with pleasant stays if they simply followed the rules.  Coming to the end of the hall, I peered out of the window, saw the wagon and our horses, one of the guards leaning against his spear by a small outbuilding, likely where the two bandits had been kept.  Making my way downstairs, I came into the common room, saw another of the guards sitting at the bar, appearing to have just awoken himself, likely not used to hours of hard riding after his usual shift had ended.  Several of the injured survivors from the caravan sat around the room as well, nodding appreciatively to me as they saw me.

I was greeted momentarily by the proprietress, an older human woman by the name of Izel, who ushered me quickly and politely, yet quite insistently, to one of the tables, promising that a propre meal would do wonders for me.  She came off as very motherly, and as she went behind the bar, I heard her speaking to others, likely her children, who would help her run the inn.  Moments later she came out with a tray of sliced bread, butter and jam, hot tea, and a bottle of something I couldn’t immediately identify.  She advised me to drink the concoction first, assuring me that I’d feel much better once I’d done so.  When I asked what it was, she said that it was cummi berry juice; I was unfamiliar with the name, the berries apparently grew within the Muckenmyre, and as I examined it, found the mixture to be a slightly thick, whitish color that smelled similar to blueberries mixed with ginger and perhaps ginseng.  I drank it down, finding the flavor satisfactory, though rather salty, and within a few moments felt my pains beginning to ease, the bruises and cuts upon my body fading rapidly.  I began eating the bread and tea, having expected nothing else, but then I was brought a plateful of the boar meat and cooked vegetables and some local roots; I had thought to decline so much, but Izel insisted, saying that I was a “growing girl” and should eat up.

I am rather ashamed to say that I did not leave a single morsel behind, hadn’t realized I had been that hungry, though I suspect her healing potion might have had something to do with that.

As I finished up my meal, finding it quite pleasant and filling indeed, I spotted four people coming down the Way from the north, an older human man, whom I immediately figured on being Izel’s husband, and a younger man, obviously their son, each carrying bundles of firewood, and two others that were certainly not of the inn’s regular occupants.  The third was a half-elven man with a rugged look about him, wearing well-worn traveler’s garb in greens and browns, a bow secured over his shoulder, a sword on one hip, a full quiver on the other, carrying several large fish strung together in one hand, and a pair of opossums in the other.  The fourth was an absolute giant of a half-orc, standing at least seven feet tall, all battle-scarred muscled, carrying a pair of boars, one over each of her massive shoulders, clad in simple hides, a large axe bouncing on her back, a smaller one hanging from her belt.

They followed the husband and son around to the rear of the inn, the half-elf doing all the talking, seemingly friendly enough.  Recognizing rangers when I saw them, I headed outside into the warm and humid afternoon sun, checking with the guardsman on watch first before I ventured around back.  As they were busying themselves butchering the animals, I introduced myself to the rangers, again getting somewhat confused looks when I bowed to them, and explained the circumstances we found ourselves in, and that I would like to hire them on as guides through the swamp.  The half-elf introduced himself as Jessiryn, and his companion as Augra, though she merely grunted and continued field-stripping the boar, and upon his request, I gave him some more information about the nature of our hunt.  I excused myself politely once he had requested time for them to consider our request, and as I departed, could hear him talking to his partner, though she had yet to utter a word.

Satella and the other town guards were in the common room having their meal when I returned, and we discussed our options, having some of the surviving merchants join us to see what they wished to do.  Though most of their goods were taken, they still intended to reach Grimbridge and try to salvage what they could from the situation and perhaps get passage on a ship bound up the coast in lieu of traveling the Way again.  Most of the town guard would accompany them back to town, though another attack was unlikely, leaving two of them with Satella and myself to track the bandits and the twins.

Jessiryn approached our table then, and announced that he and Augra had decided to join our hunt.  Though they were fairly recent arrivals in the area themselves, they had been hunting the swamp enough to know the area well enough, and would very much like to offer their aid to Grimbridge and the traders. 

And so it was the six of us would depart the inn, having offered our payments to Izel for her kindness, that afternoon, taking the flatboat Jessiryn and Augra had with them, though it was a bit crowded with six of us aboard.  Still, the hunt was resumed, and our new companions would prove most capable during the coming days.

#Lore24 – Entry #134 – Muckenmyre Month #13 – Dangers Along the Way

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris, Town Marshal of Grimbridge.

Riding swiftly along the Way, we came upon an unexpected scene in the predawn gloom, that of a trade caravan, scattered, broken, and burning along the roadway.  It didn’t take me but a quick glance to determine that the traders had been attacked by a larger force.  I saw the bodies strewn about as we neared, obviously brigands, mixed with the caravan’s own, some still alive, though wounded. 

Though I wanted nothing more than to keep following my prey, their immediate trail ended at the battle site, the horse they had stolen laying near death amongst the carnage, their scents lost to the smell of death and burning wagons.  I saw the disgust in the faces of the town guard, and though Satella appeared outwardly serene, her face was devoid of its usual smile, and I could sense that she was inwardly quite angry at the scene.  So, as we approached, I gave the order to aid the survivors, and to be on the lookout for any swamp creatures that may have been attracted to the smell of the dead.  Though they never said it, I saw in the eyes of the men of the town guard that I had made the right call, that their lingering doubts about me were lessened. 

Many were dead, but several more were only wounded, the worst of these being tended to by Satella, though their pained screams as Yurisaya’s healing flowed into them were loud.  Still, I did what I could, taking on the lesser of the worst injuries myself, bearing the pain of their injruies as I had long been accustomed to.  We learned that the caravan master, among the first to die in the bandit attack, had set out early and with haste, intending to reach Grimbridge as the market opened, hoping to maximize their earnings with the locals before offering their wares to the ships coming into the port.  They knew they were being followed soon after leaving the Wayfare Inn, and it wasn’t long before the bandits attacked; they had spotted scouts from the same group as they approached the inn the previous evening, but none were bold enough to tempt the fates by attacking the group within the witch’s domain. 

Not long after the fighting began, the twins had shown up, riding into the fray and leaping from their dying horses, hurling spells indiscriminately, intent on taking fresh horses.  The bandit leader, an orc going by Jaggedtusk, was quick to offer them a cut of the profits if they joined their group, as there would be plenty to go around since his band was now a few members shorter.  Grabbing up what goods they could, the bandits and the twins disappeared into the Muckenmyre via the Crocodile Run and some well-concealed flatboats they’d had hidden near to the Way.

Luckily for us, there were bandits who had survived as well.  Unluckily for them, there were two very well-trained torturers in my group.  Though I keenly felt the many wounds I had taken upon myself, and Satella was out of healing magics, my purpose remained clear, and I did not hesitate in getting all the information I could out of them.  It didn’t take much coercion, for the will of a bandit is a weak one.  By the time we had finished our task, the town guard had managed to get one wagon upright and had hitched their horses to it, and we made the decision to continue to the Wayfare Inn, an hour or so ahead, to rest and consider our next course of action, the surviving bandits bound and made to walk along behind the wagon of the wounded.

Satella and I had learned of the bandit gang’s numbers and the location of the hideout, but it would mean little without someone to guide us there, for neither of us were familiar with the depths of the swamp, and both of us needed rest, me more than her, as did the town’s guards.  I gave my horse to some of the wounded to use, and rode behind Satella to the inn, every step growing more excruciating as we went, even though the depth of the wounds I had taken upon myself were not life threatening.

I can barely remember reaching the Wayfare Inn, can only really recall the change in the air as we crossed into the witch’s domain, then the canopy tree tunnel opening up as we came out into the clearing around the inn itself. 

I’m ashamed to admit that my stamina had given out, and that I had to be carried into bed once again.

#Lore24 – Entry #133 – Muckenmyre Month #12 – The Grimbridge Way

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris, Town Marshal of Grimbridge.

Riding forth from Grimbridge for the first time filled me with conflicting thoughts and emotions.  I was intent on capturing the troublemakers, my goal could really have been no clearer.  Though hours had passed since they had ridden out of the town gates, I could still discern their scent well enough to follow them.  Yet, even with Satella riding near, and the members of the town guard who had so willingly joined up and under my leadership, I felt an unexpected sense of melancholy at leaving the town that I had spent my life in for the past few weeks.  I have never been one to easily grow attached to anyone or any particular place given what I have been trained to become, but nonetheless, these emotions were there. 

As we grew further from Grimbridge, I could sense the unease of the town guard growing.  Night in the Muckenmyre, as I was told, was a dangerous time, though the Grimbridge Way was generally considered safe.  By the time we set out, everyone had found a place to shelter for the night, either in town or the handful of nearby farms.  It was during this first ride out of town that I first saw the Witch Lights that lined the roadway at regular intervals.  These are magical lanterns, tended to by the Wayfare Witches that called this area home, giving off a pale bluish-white light, warding off the most dangerous of creatures that called the swamps home.  As the light evening fog came in, the Witch Lights proved to have a most eerie quality about them.  On the one hand, they clearly marked the Way, though it would be difficult for one to become lost given the raised nature of the road, and the way the thick growth of trees, full of their hanging mosses, along its sides rose up and encased the road, like a dark, twisted tunnel overhead.  On the other hand, with the sounds of the night coming alive, and the many new sounds and scents I encountered as we rode, I could not help but feel slightly overwhelmed; there were things lurking just beyond those lights that I could not identify but could clearly understand were dangerous.

I inquired with Satella and the guardsmen as to what the lay of the land was as we came upon a crossroads, a pair of smaller, less well-traveled roads venturing off from the Way and out of the safety of the Witch Lights.  Our quarry had not gone down either of these paths, but the information could prove useful nonetheless.  Both ways led to farmland, smaller outlying villages that were mostly composed of families that had called the swamps home for generations, though they usually relied upon flatboats when coming into town, so the roadways were lightly used.  We were some hours yet from the first of the Wayfare Houses along the Way, one of the traveler’s rests maintained by the Witches, each placed about a day’s travel apart from one another.

Pausing just beyond the crossroads to consider the trail, to discern the hoof prints in the damp soil of the roadway, I asked about local landmarks and possible hiding places should the twins venture off the Way.  Even the guards who had grown up on the local farms before coming to live in the town were wary of the Muckenmyre, and explained that anyone who wasn’t born of the area would be lucky to find the various spots they described to me, which usually were certain ancient trees, nesting areas for animals, or small communities of more reclusive and often hostile humanoids, usually lizardmen and kobolds.  There was a place marked by a particular rock formation called the Witch’s Table somewhere out there, though they were reluctant to say more, and even uttered prayers upon mentioning it, so I reasoned that this wasn’t associated with the Wayfare Witches.  Far deeper into the mire, there was an area known as the Devil’s Armpit, though it was filled with toxic gasses and unpleasant, dangerous creatures.  There had been a several instances over the years where bandit groups had hid out in the swamp, so there were scattered spots that could be made livable, and were possibly in use even now, one being the wreck of an ocean-going ship that had somehow wound up deep in the swamp, likely during a hurricane. 

Though unlikely that the twins would know the area well enough to be aware of any of them, it was nonetheless potentially useful knowledge.  By this time, I had clearly marked the tracks we were to follow using some of the magic I had been taught; with my spell in place, I could see the hoof prints along the road glowing in a golden light, leading onward down the dark tunnel of the Way.  I mounted once again and started following, though I had discerned an additional detail in their trail which I relayed to my party then.  Given the spacing of the hoof prints since we’d set out from town, it seemed the twins were pushing their horses hard, and were likely, if they were perhaps smarter than they seemed, using magic to enhance their mounts’ stamina, otherwise they would certainly have to have rested them this far along.

This would not be quite as simple a task as it first appeared, but that was no discouragement to me.  I had tracked my targets for weeks on end before, though now I did not have to worry about blending in amongst the other kerryn as I did so, didn’t have to rely upon other Inquisitors to tend my leash.  I felt a strange exhilaration at this thought.  If the twins were using magic as they ran, then they too would have to rest eventually, for no arcanist’s power would last forever, and they had already used up several spells when fleeing town.  Would they make it to the Wayfare House to rest, or would they try to push onward, dead set for the city that lay beyond the Muckenmyre perhaps, or did they have another destination in mind?

As dawn approached, I smelled smoke in the air and spotted the glow of fire in the trees ahead of us before my human companions did.  Having rested our horses along the way, though no doubt my companions were beginning to feel fatigued, we nonetheless spurred our mounts forward, and I felt the rush of the hunt fill me.