Sevrin's Crusade: Fateful Meeting?

If you were to make a list of all the great heroes in Lucadere's past there would be one thing they all share in common, companions that stuck by them when things got tough. They needed a friend at their back when surrounded by enemies on all sides, someone to reach out a balancing hand to catch them before they fell, comrades they could trust to be at their side no matter what happened. No man, no matter how great, can stand alone against the countless threats that plague the lands.

Up to this point in his life Sevrin has not had the fortune of meeting such people. His time in the temple was spent as a half breed outcast. In the early days the Elven children considered him beneath their notice and ignored him. When he surpassed them their demeanor changed from inattention to envious and unfriendly. Once his training was complete he was assigned to patrolling the borders of the Elven Forests. His time there was spent with the trees and animals except for occasional contact with other border patrols. If he was going to achieve his goal of making Lucadere a safer place he was going to have to do it alone.

After events have calmed down following the Battle of Ofaylum Sevrin retrieves a small leather-bound book and quill from his pack. He flips about halfway through the book and reads over the last few pages.

Dwarven Kingpriest - First Impressions:
Meeting too short to form any real conclusions.
Threat Level: 5 - Follows Epicusp. Good reputation. Needs to be further examined.

Malcear Balifier! - First Impressions:
Before Malcear was even close enough to get a good look at I could sense a good aura emanating from him. As he approached I took a quick stock of his features and found that I couldn't easily determine what he was. He was like no Human or Elf I had seen before. Strangely I felt a small amount of comfort rather than unease from his unfamiliar appearance. His holy symbol marked him as a follower of Noreal, a trustworthy goddess.
Threat Level: 2 - Unlikely to cause any trouble. Safe to ignore.

Gasadrael Spyrn - First Impressions:
A young elven female dressed like a member of the nobility out beyond the safety of the forests. I couldn't stop myself from drawing parallels between her and my mother as a young woman with a taste for adventure. This leaves me with a very uneasy feeling knowing how my mother ended up. What reason could this woman have for leaving the forests? All the work I did guarding the borders now seems useless somehow. What good was keeping all of the threats out when the ones I was protecting leave the safety I provided so willingly?
Threat Level: 5 - Likely to get herself into trouble and end up getting the ones protecting her killed in the process. Thankfully for her I will be around for this journey.

Dethias...... First Impressions:
The moment I laid eyes on him I knew he was trouble. I didn't sense any evil from him, but something about him was still... wrong. He did not appear to be any race I have encountered to date, but unlike Malcear he had a sinister look to his features which wasn't improved by the way he dressed and carried himself. I found it odd that he shared company with one such as Malcear. Perhaps there is more to him than his appearance suggests.
Threat Level: 8 - Likely to cause trouble. Need to keep a close eye on him.

Malcear Balifier! - Journey to Ofaylum:
Took it upon himself to tell me the story of their trek through the Sunken Citadel without me even having to ask. Was good company over the long road. Did not detect any falsehood from him the entire time which in my experience is a rare trait. One odd thing to note... After 3 weeks of travel he didn't smell like the rest of us. If anything he had a pleasant odor. Could this be a clue about his origins? Certainly nothing to complain about.
Threat Level: 1 - Further interaction has solidified my initial impressions. I could get to like this guy.

Gasadrael Spyrn - Journey to Ofaylum:
Kept her distance from me most of the time. More than likely doesn't want anything to do with a lowly half-elf... Pretty much what I expected from an elf of her station. I am used to such treatment so I won't hold it against her. Despite the distance she kept she did seem to keep a wary eye on me. Considering I am a stranger this is a good thing. Maybe she has a bit of sense after all.
Threat Level: 4 - Still not comfortable about a fragile elven girl traveling beyond the protection of the forest, but at least she shows a bit of caution.

Dethias...... Journey to Ofaylum:
Upon arriving in Ofaylum I feel fortunate to still have all of my possessions. Perhaps I was quick to judge or could he just be waiting until I drop my guard?
Threat Level: 7 - Has not proved my suspicions yet, but will continue to keep an eye on him at all times. Sevrin dips his quill and begins writing a new entry in his journal of threats to the realm.

Malcear Balifier! - Events in Ofaylum:
Stuck to his beliefs and refused to break into the Baron's home without prior evidence. When Ofaylum was invaded he was the first person to join the fight. Put himself between me and 2 ogres, a large zombie gnoll, and a host of kobolds, golbins, and orcs.
Threat Level...
Sevrin's hand becomes suddenly still on the page. He remains motionless like that for a few moments and appears to be in deep thought. Honest... Reliable... Courageous... Sturdy... Powerful... This man is no threat to the realm. He seems more likely to save it. This has never happened before... What do I do now? After a few more moments Sevrin crosses out the section on Malcear Balifier and then begins writing again.

Gasadrael Spyrn - Events in Ofaylum:
A little too willing to follow Dethias in breaking into the Baron Toko's home. It needed to be done... but didn't seem like a task for a noble lady. Had I not been so focused on tending to the fallen boy Dethias had just ruthlessly stabbed I would have followed her in. I shudder to think of what could have happened to her alone with the likes of Dethias... My opinions on her safety made a sudden shift the moment she emerged from the inn and conjured an enormous ball of fire and hurled it at a group of charging orcs. Who could have guessed such fury could be unleashed from such a small frame? It is also well worth noting that she the power to infuse others with amazing bursts of speed. What a rush that was.
Threat Level: 2 - There seems to be some truth behind the old saying "You can't judge a sword by its scabbard." Will continue to look out for her safety, but it seems much less necessary than I previously thought. If only she would show a bit more caution.

Dethias...... Events in Ofaylum:
Snuck up and stabbed a young boy nearly killing him to gain entrance to Baron Toko's residence. Nearly drew my sword, but noticed he gave the boy a healing potion which at least brought him out of danger. During the battle he always seemed to be positioned exactly where I wanted him, behind the backs of my enemies... rather than mine. As I was nearly overcome by an enormous bear and a swarm of gnolls and goblins I noticed him behind me and thought for sure the dagger was coming. I closed my eyes and inwardly berated myself for allowing him the opportunity. To my great surprise a potion was placed in my hand instead. My first thought was poison, but why would he waste it when it would have been just as easy to use his dagger? I had no time to think so I downed it and was relieved to feel healing magic coursing through my veins.
Threat Level....6 - Why is this guy so hard to read? One moment he is stabbing a seemingly innocent child in the back and the next coming to my aid right when I need it. Far too unpredictable for my liking, but at least aligned himself on the right side of the battle.

Baron Toko
I could sense he was hiding something the moment he opened his mouth. Found damning evidence in his study. Has connections powerful enough to call forth an army of kobolds, orcs, goblins, gnolls, and far more dangerous creatures including a dire bear, zombie gnoll, and ogres.
Threat Level: 10 - Soon to eliminated, but not before I find out more about his associates.

Ruddy... Baron Tom
Another difficult one to read... Likes to steal the glory from others. Not a very commendable trait, but no sign of him using the power he has gained from it wrongly. Luck seems to be on his side which brought the help he needed at the right time.
Threat Level: 6 - Has sway over the people of Ofaylum, a problem with alcohol, and powerful enemies. Not a great combination.

Lord Eddar
Left Ofaylum with his guards after learning about a potential attack on the city. In my opion... negligence of his duties to protect the people in his lands.
Threat Level: 8 - Not comfortable with such a man in power. Perhaps something can be done about that in these elections I keep hearing about.

 

  Something Sevrin is not likely to forget

Sevrin's Crusade: A Tragic Beginning

The tales of adventure told by bards throughout Lucadere inspire many young would be heroes to set out on journeys of their own. These brave souls are drawn off the safe path most travelers follow in search of ancient ruins, strange cultures, magic, and treasures.  Some find the glory and riches they seek, but all too often they end in tragedy and this is how Sevrin's story begins.

In a frontier village south of the Elven Forests far from her home a young elven maiden's quest takes a turn for the worse. The village is attacked by a barbarian raiding party which results in rape and plunder and she is among the unfortunate victims. As a result of this tramatic event she loses her fervor for adventure and returns home only to find an unwelcome gift from the experience in the form of half breed child in her womb. Fearing the shame bearing such a child would bring she takes refuge in a Temple of Epicusp deep in the Elven forests away from the city where the child is born. Upon seeing his golden hair and emerald green eyes that match her own she her hatred for the unwanted child falters and she leaves her sword with the priests to give him when he is old enough to use it.

Twelve years later...
While growing up in the temple Sevrin noticed there was something a little different between himself and the elven children. Unfortunately for him they noticed too. He never quite fit in so he spent a lot of his time alone wandering the forests around the temple and practicing his swordsmanship. He listened to the teachings of Epicusp the priests taught with rapt attention. The ideals really resonated with him and he quickly outpaced the other children in training. The priests noticed his fervor and promise with the blade and began teaching him separately from the other students. For the next several years he was taught about the art of battle, the dangers of Lucadere, and how to see through the masks people wear to hide their true intentions.

At the age of twenty-two he was called to the sacred springs north of the temple where he bathed in the hot cleansing waters. He was garbed in ceremonial armor, given a blade, and tasked with retrieving a frost lily which only grow in the mountains northwest of the Elven Forests. Upon his return from the Orc invested northern mountains with frost lily in hand he was anointed to the priesthood and given the sword his mother left to him. He was told the story of his birth and vowed to dedicate his life to rooting out the dangers that threaten Lucadere and making it a safer place where people can enjoy wandering the lands like Epicusp intended.

He was assigned to guard the borders of the forest and to deal with anything that threatened it. After years of service protecting the Elven cities from the dangers lurking beyond their realm he was called to the Dwarven Citadel for an audience with the Kingpriest where he heard news of a group of adventurers that recently appeared from the depths of the Sunken Citadel. Interested in knowing more about this strange party he seeks them out.

  

Well, this accelerated quickly.

Tfft tfft tfft tfft tfftfftfftftftftftftftftf

This was madness. No, it made madness seem pretty rational. This was pure chaotic insanity.

What were they thinking? “Let's just climb into this ancient machine hundreds of feet below the surface of the ocean in a tower infested with undead and denizens from nightmares!” Maybe the poison was still clouding their judgment. Maybe the powers of that demonic sea beast had affected their minds. Maybe after everything they had been through up to this point, the idea of loading themselves into a mechanisms of a giant crossbow and getting shot head first into an endless black abyss seemed like a nice vacation. One thing was for certain. It was too late to turn around.

Tftftftftftftftftftftftftftftftftf

Somehow the weight of the falling water against the slanted metal plates was pushing them faster than any horse could dream of running. Malcear didn't understand the science at work here, but he was not enjoying the resulting reactions in his digestive track. If you've never vomited hard tack and dry rations, avoid it at all cost. He couldn't even turn his head to see if his allies were in the same turmoil. The speed and fear and darkness were all too much. He wasn't afraid. He was never afraid of anything, but he was overpowered with sensations.

Tfttftffftftftftftftftftftftffftftftftftfftf

His knuckles gripped white against the walls of the contraption. Cold sea water splashed against his face and armor. He was being gently choked as the weight of his cloak flapped heavily behind him. The swim they had taken did a good job of cleaning most of the Dryder and Naga blood from his clothing, but the sea water made the dagger wounds he had received (in abundance) sting to the bone. This was the most uncomfortable he had been in his entire cloistered life. He longed for the beatings and bruises of his sword-brothers. He longed for the incendiary disciplinary practices of the fire priests of his Goddess. Even the dreams he often had of being chained up and tortured seems a small comfort in comparison. The one thing though, that made things unbearable was the fear of never again seeing the stars at night.

Tftftftftftftftftftftftftftftf

Malcear prayed.

The Journal of Dethias: Fragile Beginnings

There are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says "morning, boys. How is the water?" And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes "what the hell is water?"

This is a standard requirement of journal entries at the beginning of great quests, the deployment of didactic little parable-ish stories. The story turns out to be one of the better, less bullshitty conventions of embarking on a quest, but if you're worried that I plan to present myself here as the wise, older fish explaining what water is to adventurers reading my journal, please don't be. I am not the wise old fish. The point of the fish story is merely that the most obvious, important realities are often the ones that are hardest to see and convey. Stated as a sentence, of course, this is just a banal platitude, but the fact is that in the day to day trenches of questing, banal platitudes can have a life or death importance, or so I wish to suggest to you while catapulting through this wet wind blasting into the unknown.

Here's another didactic little story. There are these two guys sitting together in a tavern in the remote Hub wilderness. One of the guys is a cleric, the other is an atheist, and the two are arguing about the existence of Gods with a special intensity that comes after about the fourth grog. And the atheist says: "Look, it's not like I don't have actual reasons for not believing in the gods. It's not like I haven't ever experimented with the whole God and prayer thing. Just last month I got caught away from the mining camp in that terrible blizzard and I was totally lost and I couldn't see a thing, and it was 50 below, and so I tried it: I fell to my knees in the snow and cried out 'Oh, God, if there is any God, I'm lost in this blizzard, and I'm going to die if you don't help me.'" And now, in the bar, the cleric looks at the atheist all puzzled. "Well you must believe now," he says, "After all, here you are, alive." The atheist just rolls his eyes. "No, man, all that was was a couple Dwarves happened to come wondering by and showed me the way back to camp."

It's easy to run the story through a kind of standard magus' analysis: the exact same experience can mean two totally different things to two different people, given those peoples two different beliefs and two different ways of constructing meaning from experience. Which is fine, except that as a seeker of knowledge I must delve deeper into the machinery constructing personal beliefs; recognizing my orientation toward the world as a matter of intentional choice, not automatically absorbed from culture, like language, but constructed from arrogance. Arrogance of certainty. Blind certainty of interpretations erects a close-mindedness that amounts to an imprisonment so total that the prisoner doesn't even know he's locked up.

The point here is that I think this is one part of what questing is really supposed to deliver. To be just a little less arrogant. To have just a little critical awareness about myself and my certainties. Because a huge percentage of the stuff that I tend to be automatically certain of is, it turns out, totally wrong and deluded (specifically activating ancient Artifacts). I have learned this the hard way, as I predict adventurers reading this will, too.

"Oh Occhidy, if you ever listen, I'm imprisoned in an ancient Dwarven ballistic cart, and I'm going to die if you don't help me."