It was oddly comfortable returning home. The constant feeling of heat and desert breeze drying out the body and the soul was in comforting. The only problem with returning to a land after so long is that you return to the same problems.
After leaving thealter, we decided to head to Pavis. It was a couple days travel which reminded me of my youth. Many of the watering wholes were still present, the chaos ever present, and the rivalries much intact. After a day of travel, we saw a group traveling. Since my contact to local Praxians has been limited I could only guess of what clan or tribe they would be from. Secretly hoping it would a familiar face, I got my hopes knowing the odds were against it.
My fears became a reality, the spirits did not want reunite me with my tribe quite yet. Sable riders showed, and with unusual numbers. As “tradition” they told us to surrender. When I was slow to respond the archers took aim. I did not want any of my companions to be injured by this ridiculous, counterproductive and barbaric tradition. So I called out their leader…A man that I knew was more powerful then me. I challenged him to a dual, that if I were to lose we would surrender. I am not man of challenges, or one to consider myself a better fighter then an enemy, but the spirits were with me. I have returned home and felt their presence like never before.
He accepted…and started to charge. Luckily, before the encounter I was already enchanted by the great spirit the Kigor Leder iniate had with him. After a few charges, I decided to demount him by removing his Sable from the battle. I placed my hammer on the head of that poor creature unlike I have ever struck something before. The shattering of the creatures skull was an eerie sound, but the hearing the rest of the spine compress together was quiet but unforgettable. I was hoping that would give me the upper hand, catch him off guard, force him fall from his mount. I could not have been more incorrect. I have never seen such a large man make such graceful movement. Instead of being thrown to the ground like any normal man, he jump eloquently off his now slaughtered creature and landed on both feet right behind me.
I thought I was doomed, but the horned man much of wanted me continue with my destiny. After a few attempts of him to cast powerful Waha curses, which I luckily resisted, I decided to return the favor of almost certain death. My next swing struck him straight in the chest, shattering his ribs and forcing his heart from his body. Waha came and returned him to his true form. At this point this soldier realized that even though he was probably the great combatant, the spirits did not favor him. When I asked him to surrender he did.
We continued on, to Pavis. I noticed the heat was affecting my companions. Most of them talked less and were less upbeat. Only the Orlanthi followers seemed to enjoy the trip. We arrived shortly later with the remainder of our travels being relatively uneventful.
New Pavis, a city I always hated. It was parasite, a vulture. It survived off the ruins of a great city. Here, it was told that an Orlanthi Hero once was lost in the canals, and the leader of our fellowship was looking for some lost religious artifact. The problem with finding things in the ruble is that their reason for going unfound.
We arrive in Pavis, it was exactly as I remember it, the epitome of everything wrong with Prax, classless, lawless, a place were many people felt compelled to act inhuman. We found our selves a place to stay, a place I would have never stayed, but my fellow travelers have different taste then I do, these Orlanthi live these “excessive” lives. They wouldn’t last three weeks off the land like a Praxian.
We came to the conclusion that we wanted to hire a guide, we went to the closest Orlanthi bar and decided to look for help. We found three men who drew the attention of the room. The rest of my group were drawn to weaker men, but I saw something in this standard looking man. The spirits whispered to me go to him, and we were awarded for listening. Gereth was a quiet modest man, who was more then competent on the battle field as we found out first hand later. After some discussions on price, we met the next morning and set out to enter old Pavis’s dangerous puzzle canals which were filled with chaos, trolls, and undead beings.
We worked our way to the canals with minimal interruption. We ran into problem upon arrival. These canals were not meant for walking, they were meant to be traveled via small boats. We traveled the canals carefully, I fallowed the basic rules my father taught me of tracking. It lead us inward. As we worked inward some of my companions saw things they never saw before. We were forced to battle the unnatural creatures known as undead. My companions found them to be weak, I tried to remind them of their power in numbers, but most shook of the advice, acting like nothing fears them.
We continued to travel inward and eventually found something of interest. We found a camp fire, clearly old. We found a sign of the Orlanthi hero, we found his initials etched near the fire place. I had tingle go through me, the same one the day my father defeated the chaos monster that took his life. I forced my opinion that we search this house now…that something was wrong with it. My friends agreed that since the Orlanthi hero initials were here that this place was important, but wanted to wait till the morning. With the spirits pushing me, I pleaded to continue, but it is not my decision to make for the group. We decided to set up camp.
That evening as I was on watch it happened, we were attacked by a legion of undead lead by a troll runelord member of the dangerous Zurack Zura cult. I quickly woke the others, I stood in front with my friend Reacher to keep our waking friends from the danger. Zombie swarm, and even though they do not do anything fancy, they hit like a charging Rhino.
Both Reacher and I dropped while defending our friends. I was revived by Gereth and Reacher had Sength on his side. The God removed his wounds and gave him a powerful spell to aid in slaying these creatures. Things were moving along well, that is until the troll got involved. With chanting a few words he made his presence felt by attacking (sam’s Character) with a feared spell severe spirit. “Luckily” he resisted and “only” lost half of his health. Then the troll decided to join the fun.
We were informed by (jake’s Char) that if we were stuck by his blade the wounds would unlikely be able to recieve. Well, the trolls first attack still unblocked. This strike dropped (sams) right arm.
(Sam) was forced to a defensive position. He did not attack but kept the great troll at bay with his wooden shrine. It worked for a little bit, but then the troll got another attack through to his left arm, leaving both arms unusable and unfixable. We had to come up with something.
My friend, (Jake) brilliantly sent the spirit towards the troll immobilizing him. With the rest of the undead defeated, the party stood back and weakened our foe with range attacks. After being defeated, Zurack Zuran intervened, and the troll surrender.
Realizing, that stopping here was a mistake the group decided to clear the rest of the house and moved on. We carefully search each room, and with each room I felt spirits pushing me, but also a mighty presence that did not want to be bothered.
As we reached what would be the final room, I feel the spirits guiding me, telling me that it is time to prove that I have what it takes to be shaman. We open a door and find the body of the Orlanthi Hero. We also find many other dead bodies and the reason that know one has returned from here alive.
A great lion revealed himself with a mighty roar. I know he was not of this plane and that he has lost his way. I tried to talk to him, but to no success. I was forced to remove him from this plane via force. We engage in deadly spirit combat. The fight is a back and forth battle, but I eventually am able to defeat the beast. When I defeated him, I felt oddly connected to him. He was misplaced, with out his family and a future I realize that I was spirits guided here for one reason; to take the next steps towards becoming a shaman and awaken my fetch. He was here to defend something but lost his way.
I offer him to connect with my soul and unite so that we could walk the spirit plane and this plane at the same time. Basmol was ready to join me, reviving the reason he existed on this plane.
Next came the most feared part for all looking to become a shaman, the battle with the Bad Man. I faced him, but was confident, I felt the connection with Basmol has made me powerful then ever before. I took the Bad Man’s shot and new he would not be able to defeat me. I turned him away and earned my fetch and continued on the path of shaman.
(Glick) claimed his reward the mighty golden sword, an ancient artifact of much power. We found some other treasures and left quickly.
Our way out was uneventful until we reached the gate where we were ambushed by Lunars. The fight was a massacre, but one thing of importance happen, something I will never forget.
As Glick’s character looks down on the 2nd rubble runner, having cleaved him almost in 2, he stops in surprise as he realizes that the 2nd rubble runner is a twin for the 1st, even down to hair cut, scars and gear. As he steps closer for a better look, the dead body reaches out a hand, grabs its own head, and pulls itself to standing. Instinctually Glick slashes out with his sword, severing the arm. Some how still upright, with an arm hanging from its head, and the chest somehow suspended above the rest of the body, it turns to Glick and says,
“Hey! Stop that would ya?!”
Still disturbed from his encounters with the zombies, Glick, slashes out again, severing the head. The other hand snakes out and catches the falling head, presenting an even stranger image, as both arms hold onto the head, but only one is attached to the body.
“HEY! Come on…I’m fallin to pieces here!”
Seeing no other option, Glick falls back a step, letting his sword hang at his side.
“Wh…Wha..What the hell are you?!”
The head glances at the large golden sword hanging on Glick’s back.
“Fancy sword you have there. I’d heard some stories about you, looks like they might have been true. I think I’ll stick around and see what happens.”
Suddenly, the body collapses, and then turns to mist, and then is gone. Half a second later, Glicks armor all crashes to the ground, followed quickly by his pants. A brief giggle echos through the Ruins around the Griffin Gate, and then there is silence.