Tales of Gandamyr
After bracing arms with my compatriots, the ever famed Alpha Squad, I began my march on to Wessex. I was surprised that just moments earlier, Finnian had managed to loose his wineskin long enough to bid farewell. Tough lad, nearly broke my arm. I wasn’t sure about how I felt about this promotion under Captain Silvermaul. It felt good to advance, but I feel my progression is largely in part to my allies. Perhaps one day I’ll meet with them once again.
We traveled on to Wessex, Silvermaul, a small guard, and myself. Despite the horrid weather, there was something particularly proud about this moment. My skills were gaining in potency, and as such, my pockets growing heavier. My training had been rough, yet rewarding. I’ve come from a failing merchant to a blade for hire. It’s almost as if I’d found a particular calling.
The captain decided to set up camp just before dark, tasking me with perimeter security. Upon my sweep, I came across a large wooded lodge. Sounds of shuffling and scuffling were escaping from a door wide ajar. With an uneasy feeling I waited for further noise, soon to be prompted with the sounds of a lady’s scream. It was then I heard the familiar sound of goblin banter and taunting.
I quickly rounded the house to search for the optimal advantage point, finding a window open on the second floor. I slumped my pack onto the ground, retrieving my grappling hook and quickly securing my rope to it. I hooked the rope into the window with immaculate accuracy, beginning my ascent up the side of the lodge.
I peered inside quickly, seeing the obvious slump of a male human, half rested against a bed with a scimitar protruding from his back through his chest. The scent of blood was thick, and I hastened my entrance into the building. With silence, I crept in through the window and swept across the floor. I heard the shallow breathing of the man rested against the bed, and though I’m no physician, I knew his wound was far greater than anything I could manage.
“My wife,” he gurgled and pointed out the door towards a dimly lit hallway. I nodded and drew my daggers from beneath my crimson sash. For a moment, I recalled how empowering it felt to have earned that sash, but I quickly shook away that feeling and moved through the doorway slowly. The hallway was made up of a walkway overlooking the stairs, completed with a window with a nice view of a clearing in the woods.
I peered over the walkway, to see a candle-lit dining room. Two chairs were overturned nearby a table which obviously held this couple’s supper. How disappointing to see such a nice venison steak meal dispatch by a goblin. Or goblins. Unlikely a goblin would be out here alone, the clingy little bastards. Without further thought, I moved down the stairs quickly, entering the dining room.
Blue eyes lit up from across the room as a cry for help escaped the lips of a young woman. There were two goblins accompanying her, one was unarmed and holding the woman’s arms back while the other was winding up with its scimitar. The goblin holding the woman noticed me as well and yelled out something in goblin tongue.As the goblin’s hand began to descend like the axe of an executioner, time seemed to slow. I loosed the dagger in my right hand and plucked a dart from my belt, launching it as I drew it free. I rolled forward in the same action, snagging my dagger mid-somersault and bounded over the dining table as I came back to a vertical position. I vaulted further off of the table, seeing the dart connect with the goblin’s swinging blade, the force glancing the blade off of its mark.
Instead of landing a blow to the defenseless woman, the blade instead traveled nearly a foot to the right, slicing through the other goblin’s arm like butter. The goblin wailed out in a cry of pain as his beloved arm departed from his body, instinctively letting the woman free to attend to his wound. Still mid-air, I wound up, using the same momentum I’d been gaining to drive the left hand dagger into the goblin that was still in tact, following with the right hand dagger to his spine. I used the goblin’s crumpling body to break my fall and roll to a crouched position, ready to pounce the next.
By the time, the goblin began to flee, barreling face first through a closed window and tumbling to his feet as he skittered off into the darkness. I hurled a dart after him, hearing the pained whine as it struck flesh in a likely non-fatal manner. As the goblin broke for the tree line, I heard only the faint yelling of “Red rogue! Red rogue!” in a horribly spoken goblin tongue.
The woman pushed passed me and made for the stairs. Silence waned momentarily before the mourning cries for her departed lover filled the lodge. I started to make my way to the front door which was still ajar before I heard the soft and damaged voice of the woman behind me.
“Wait,” she begged, “I can’t stay here without Henri. I don’t know how to live out here on my own.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Sera,” she replied after a moment.
“Very well, Sera. I’m Jack. I’m on my way to Wessex, it would be wise for you to join.”
Sera accepted my offer and quickly ran to put together a few of her belonging and we made our way back to the camp. When we rounded to the fire, Silvermaul eyed myself and then Sera, and back to me.
“Her home not far from here was raided by goblins, lost everything besides her life. There was one goblin survivor, but I don’t suspect he’ll make it very far, he’s missing an arm.” I explained. Silvermaul stroked his beard quizzically.
“Lucky lass. We don’t have the rations or horse for her. What do you plan to do?”
“I’ll spare what is needed and walk if necessary. Wessex is only another day’s travel, I will manage.” I responded, and Silvermaul simply nodded and waved me off while he resumed his business. I unfastened my bedroll and informed Sera that it was hers for the night. I decided to take first watch that night, climbing and perching in a nearby tree…