Kra'arnauk's Journal

There are too many of them, coming too quickly. They don't fight properly. There is the way most people fight, which is weak and easily overcome by those who have mastered the proper way. There is the proper way to fight, where you do not care whether you live or die. These things fight as though they wish to die. They pile in, thicker and thicker, hands outstretched, grasping my armor when they can manage, or the handle of my blade, or the blade itself. I fight them, but for the only time in my life, I don't know why. Whether I let myself be choked to death or fight until they simply bury me in their corpses, I will meet my end here. Some of them I recognize. It is upsetting to see them again. Some of them I don't recognize. These are the ones that really worry me. There are too many of them clinging to my glaive now. I abandon it, and draw an axe for each hand instead, and make my final decision. [[Unleash my fury|Fury Awake]] [[Bellow once more to Gruumsh|Bellow Awake]] [[Let myself fall|Fall Awake]]

One axe already lodged in a skull, I bring the other one back and, with a mighty swing, I slam the mirror off the nightstand. It sails across the room, shattering against the opposite wall in a satisfying way. [[Wall?|Awake]]

One last time, I bellow my defiance to Gruumsh, Unblinking Eye, ready to receive his Judgment. I scream to the sunless horizon, past the wall of creatures, to the wall, the actual wall, the wall made of wood. [[Wall?|Awake]]

This is my destiny. This is my Judgement. The things pile on, clinging to me, wrapping me in them. I buckle under their weight, falling to the floor, landing with a thud. I struggle, uselessly, against the crushing grip of my bedsheets. [[Bedsheets?|Awake]]

<<if visited("Fall Awake")>>Bedsheets?<<else>>Wall?<<endif>> <<if visited("Fall Awake")>>Bedsheets. Bed. Walls. Ceiling. Door. No bars. Inn, then.<<else>> Walls. Ceiling. Bed. Nice bed. Door. No bars. Inn, then.<<endif>> I'm awake. I'm awake! (And now so are the people in adjacent rooms, I suppose.) Dreaming. I was dreaming. Dreaming about... I forget. Ugh. My head hurts. Hard to remember what happened yesterday. Nothing new there. <<if visited("Fall Awake")>>I climb back into bed.<<else>>I sit up in my bed.<<endif>> Time to assess the situation. [[Check head]] [[Check chest]] [[Check pants]] [[Check boots]]

The thudding is a bit stronger than usual. I touch my head gingerly, but there's no sign of injury. I must have drank more than usual last night. Beer headache. Feels like free beer? <<if not visited("Check chest")>>[[Check chest]] <<endif>><<if not visited("Check pants")>>[[Check pants]] <<endif>><<if not visited("Check boots")>>[[Check boots]]<<endif>><<if visited("Check head") and visited("Check chest") and visited("Check pants") and visited("Check boots")>>[[Remember]]<<endif>>

I run my hand across my chest. There's a spot about the size of my palm on my left that's just a little tender. The skin feels a bit fresh, cleaner and softer than everywhere else. A memory struggles to the surface, speaking of broken ribs and blood in my spit, but now... Magic. Magical healing. Niolle. Yes. Easy to forget she can do that, after seeing her throw fire and lightning around. I must admit the healing is good too, but only begrudgingly. <<if not visited("Check head")>>[[Check head]] <<endif>><<if not visited("Check pants")>>[[Check pants]] <<endif>><<if not visited("Check boots")>>[[Check boots]]<<endif>><<if visited("Check head") and visited("Check chest") and visited("Check pants") and visited("Check boots")>>[[Remember]]<<endif>>

Still got 'em. Keep meaning to buy a backup just in case. Would've been useful plenty of times. Maybe tomorrow. <<if not visited("Check head")>>[[Check head]] <<endif>><<if not visited("Check chest")>>[[Check chest]] <<endif>><<if not visited("Check boots")>>[[Check boots]]<<endif>><<if visited("Check head") and visited("Check chest") and visited("Check pants") and visited("Check boots")>>[[Remember]]<<endif>>

Not by the side of my bed? Stolen?! I will rip the JAW off the one who DARED TO... Oh, wait, still on my feet. So. Too drunk to take them off last night. Good sign. <<if not visited("Check head")>>[[Check head]] <<endif>><<if not visited("Check chest")>>[[Check chest]] <<endif>><<if not visited("Check pants")>>[[Check pants]] <<endif>><<if visited("Check head") and visited("Check chest") and visited("Check pants") and visited("Check boots")>>[[Remember]]<<endif>>

Alright. Beer, a fight, an injury. That's not much to go on. Gotta dig deeper. Beer, free beer. A short fight, but brutal. An injury, didn't care. Let him hit me. Make him fear me. Hold his attention. Protecting my friends, then. No, no, that's not... There. The tableau. I have it again. I remember. [[Start from the top]]

The four of us enter the temple. The stone walls of the temple do little to keep out the night's chill, but at least the mass of bodies provides some warmth. It's a small celebration, but then, it's a small town. People stop chatting briefly as we enter, and after a moment, they resume. A few groups who think they are being subtle have something else they wish to discuss, more quietly. This is does not bother me. They have seen us slay orcs who were riding wolves large enough to carry orcs. The Good among them will recognize our valor. The petty will accept our protection. The Evil will be dealt with, in their time. I am not offended to be found intimidating. I let suspicion roll off me, like blood off a duck's back. It's a long story. The duck made it out okay. [[Look to the others]] [[Go get food]] [[Tell the duck story]]

I glance over at the others. Reidmar, Niolle and Melody seem to be scanning the room for familiar faces. I've seen this look on their faces before, like tacticians surveying a battlefield. For them, perhaps, it is the same thing -- there are opportunities, vulnerabilities, allies and enemies, positions to be held and blindsides to exploit. The concept is still alien to me, and I am not fully convinced that bringing Evil to a Violent End does not smooth out the minor hills and valleys of the social landscape. Still, I appreciate having friends who are willing to consider these angles. Especially Melody, whose steely gaze in particular... Ah, I was mistaken. Melody was actually scanning the room for the buffet table, and is beelining her way there now. She's going to beat me to it! I feel a pang of embarrassment. [[Catch up to her|Go get food]]

I arrive at the buffet table just after Melody, slightly increasing my respect for her. The food available is certainly not the best I've ever seen. There's a feeling that it was prepared by a chef who is not familiar with the word "appetizing". Thankfully, I am Independent; I am not dependent on others to provide my appetite. And I will be honest, my palate bends towards the "lots of" and "free" flavors anyway. Melody has already loaded her plate with a few drumsticks and is struggling to keep a breast from greasing its way onto the floor. Poor child. [[Provide an education]]

It is a //very// long story. Another time. [[Look to the others]] [[Go get food]]

I clear my throat, which has never failed to get me exactly the level of attention I'm seeking. I begin to quickly and precisely move chicken from platter to plate, letting each piece slide into its slot in my stable configuration. The second layer is easy, thanks to the slots left in the first layer to provide places to lock into. It's not until the third layer that I have to start getting creative with the pieces I have available to me. A few utensils, inserted vertically, provide a framework to go off of. The fourth layer will have to be narrower, if I want to have room for buttressing. A small crowd has gathered to watch me work. Some of the faces I recognize from when we first entered, but their fear has disappeared since then. Good. It seems this town is sophisticated enough to appreciate Art when they see it. [[Apply the finishing touches]]

I work my way back through the crowd to Reidmar and Niolle, who have edged themselves closer to where Byfuglian is sitting. They pause briefly at the sight of my Chicken Stack, both look as if they're about to say something, then go back to their scheming. It seems they're trying to figure out how to eavesdrop on him. Sigh. Some people just don't know how to enjoy themselves. [[Help them eavesdrop]]

Giving my two friends a wink, I make way through the crowd to where Byfuglian is sitting with the Head Priestess. I work my way around to the side of the table opposite him (giving myself a brief, excellent view of Niolle and Reidmar's horrified faces) and plop down. "Hey," I say, snatching a piece of chicken from the top of stack and crunching into it messily. "Some party, huh?" I chew thoughtfully, letting the grease seep from the corners of my lips. I work on fishing a bit of unbroken leg bone out of my mouth while asking, "Oouys eenere ong?" Byfuglian mumbles some kind of excuse at me and hastily leaves the table, taking the Head Priestess and a few members of their entourage with them. There's still a small rift in the partygoers where I barged through, which the group naturally uses to put some distance between us... bringing them right next to Niolle and Reidmar, to continue their conversation. It pays to be just a little bit more clever than people think you are. Melody appears a moment later, carrying a three-layer chicken plate and two flagons of beer. She takes over Byfuglian's abandoned chair and slides one of the two flagons over to me. My estimation of Melody's character soars upward. [[Slide the beer flagon back]] [[Chug the beer, then slide it back]]

I slide the beer flagon back, earning me a look of perfectly understandable confusion from Melody. I explain quickly, "Thank you, friend, but I prefer to use my own." I put my pack next to me on the bench and starting digging my way down. Melody shrugs, and slams back the offered beer herself. My estimation climbs even a bit higher. [[Find my vessel]]

I slam back the offered beer to be polite, then slide the beer flagon back to her. I explain quickly, "Thank you, friend, but I prefer to use my own." I put my pack next to me on the bench and starting digging my way down. [[Find my vessel]]

Ah, here it is. I haul my solid pewter tankard from the depths of my pack and let it slam onto the table, earning another wave of attention. I love this thing. 100% pure pewter, handle custom-made to suit my grip, holds enough beer to drown a man in, figuratively and literally. Heavy enough to make drinking a workout, more solid than the average skull. This thing has ended as many bar fights as it's started, which is more impressive than you know. It's everything you could want in a drinking companion and then some. [[Go get some beer]]

I stand up with my tankard to go get some beer. Melody asks me to wait for a moment. Polishing off her beer in one throw, she waves the empty flagon at me, asking for a refill while I'm up. [[Tell her I can't carry it]]

I tell Melody I can't carry her flagon as well. She looks confused. I say I will be right back. Me and my tankard push our way through to where the kegs of beer are being stored. Ah, perfect timing -- one of the workers is just tapping a fresh keg, surrounded by a crowd of thirsty partygoers. [[Take some beer]] [[Take some beer, politely]]

Hey, now. I'm still a guest here. I can afford to be polite. [[Take some beer, politely]]

"Pardon me!", I shout, shoving my way past anyone inconsiderate enough not to move fast enough. I clap a hand on top of the freshly-tapped keg. Addressing the startled worker, I say, "Ah, thank you, sir. I appreciate this beer." Formalities out of the way, I scoop the keg under my free arm and head back to the table. I drop our keg on top of the table. I make a point of filling Melody's flagon before my own. It never hurts to try to be polite. [[Revel]]

There is not much revelry to be had at this party. It is the most somber revelry I've witnessed in a long time. Again, thankfully, I am Independent, and able to provide plenty of revel all on my own. Melody joins in, and soon the room is filled with laughter, singing and belching, even if it is a small room and most of it is ours. There is not much meat on the bones of our food, and not much beer in our beer, but quantity steps in to serve where quality has failed us. I glance over at Reidmar and Niolle every now and then, to make sure they are at least eating something. Good, it looks like they eventually found the buffet table. I am sure they think they are accomplishing important things, but I would worry if they were letting themselves go hungry to do so. The party is going strong when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Reidmar indicates that I'm needed across the room. [[Go with him]]

I work my way towards the exit, on the heels of my friends. The beer is just starting to really slosh around inside my head, having finally gotten enough volume to put together a dedicated assault against my senses. The other three have come to a dead halt outside the door. I stumble through, nearly running into them, trying to figure out what I should be focusing on. [[Peer into the darkness]]

Ignore the commotion entirely? No, I am not a glutton. Not that much of a glutton. I must investigate. I cram as much chicken as will fit into my mouth and fill the remaining space with beer before immediately leaping into action. [[Investigate]]

I cap my work at layer six. Perhaps I could have gone to seven, but it would have been sloppy, and the room is too crowded to effectively pick up whatever chicken would have fallen off. Besides, there are other people waiting to eat; I don't want to appear greedy. [[Head back]]

Reidmar guides Melody and I over to where Niolle is standing with the innkeeper and his family. Ah, yes, the child-caring position. It has been too long since I have had the opportunity to place little grums on the path of Good. It would be a welcome break. The child is cowering behind the legs of his parents. The parents themselves look as if they wouldn't mind having something to cower behind as well. This is understandable. Suspicion, duck, etc. I select my gentlest tone and explain simply and clearly my experience. In some cultures, child-raising is a woman's work. Not so in my tribe. To tend to the young is one of the Sacred Duties. There is no point in tending to your crops, your livestock, your mounts, your borders, if your tribe is allowed to rot from within. Something something analogy about weeds and ignorance, blossoming and adulthood, fertilizer maybe, maybe there's a way to talk about knowledge that doesn't relate it to poop, whatever I think they see where I'm going with this. They thank me for my... enthusiasm, and they trust my honor, but they are still... hesitant, they choose as a word, to place their child in my care... I snort. Think of it this way, I say. If I can care for a dozen little half-orcs in the wilderness, do they really think I'll have any trouble caring for one little hu... I realize that, at some point, the child has edged just a little bit out from behind his parents. This is my first chance to get a good look at him. Ah. [[Change tact]]

I straighten up, and look directly into the parents' eyes. Their stance, their expression, nothing much has changed since I started talking. Fair enough. I owe them more respect than I had been giving this conversation. Time to start over. I drop the gentle tone. No one has ever fallen for my gentle tone anyway. "I do not ask questions. I do not do anything halfway. I do not disappoint." "I will stay as close to your child as you want, or as far from him as you need. I will understand. I have dealt with this before. Say the word, and this will be the last time your child and I are seen in the same room." "But," I go on, "if you let me, I will teach your child everything I know of courage and honor. And self-defense." [[Elaborate]]

I show both my palms, knowing the stories the scars tell well enough on their own. "I will teach him how to deflect a fist and the best places to put one of his own. I will teach him how to catch a flying boot and the most effective way to put its owner on their back. I will teach him the spot on the wrist that will make any attacker drop his weapon. //Eager// to drop his weapon." I glance at the boy, and point to a spot on the inside of my wrist. "It's here, by the way." I turn back to the parents, then add to the boy, "There's more to it than that. But not much more." As a final aside: "Start working on your thumb strength tonight." Once again to his parents, I continue, "There are things to be said of discipline and respect, but I think we should focus on practical matters, for now. How to run. When to run. How to not need to run. How to avoid something you haven't seen yet. How to turn anything at hand into a weapon. How to turn fear itself into a weapon. Your fear, and theirs." [[More practical, even.]]

I turn back to the boy. "There are ways of gripping a human hand that will undo everything its owner knows of penmanship. There are ways of standing that will give you unbreakable balance, and places to stand that render weapons useless. There are nineteen soft spots on the human head, some obvious, some not, and no way for a person who's on the offense to guard them all (again, though, thumb strength)." Time for the finisher. "I can teach you how to make someone twice your size scream from their belly, yet leave no mark at all." The boy's eyes are wide. Respect? Fear? Doesn't matter. Going all-in: "Or... I can teach you how to leave a bruise across an opponent's ribs that will make it look like they took a cannonball to the chest. A bruise in every shade of twilight, in colors they didn't think possible. A unique work of art, begging for your signature!" "Unique", I grin, "Until the next time someone messes with you, at least." [[Finish the spiel]]

"In self-defense, obviously. That was clear, right?" By the look on everyone's face, it may not have been. I shrug, and turn back to the parents. "Make of my offer what you will. Sleep on it. We can discuss your concerns and conditions in the morning." An idea occurs to me. "Ah, and whatever you decide, bring some parchment! I have a gift I would like to give the little grum." With that, I head back to my food and drink. I find my arguments are most effective when the other party doesn't have too much time to think or talk about it. [[Resume revelry]]

If there's other interesting stuff that happened at the party, I missed it. I manage to intercept the workers bringing out fresh meat and booze a few times, and give a few impromptu lessons on chicken stacking. One guy suggests wiping the grease off first to make things easier. He is promptly banned from my table. The party is just starting to wind down when there's a commotion outside. [[Investigate]] [[Keep eating and drinking]]

Niolle has a plan. I can tell. Niolle's plan will save things. She'll use her magic to stop this, stop it now, save him, make it so I don't have to see... [[Follow Niolle's plan]]

Niolle smiles. "Sanctuary." The thug screws up his face in even further confusion. "Sanctua...?", but he catches on halfway through the word. He whips his head to look at the grum, who suddenly glows with a golden light. It flares briefly, before settling into a subtle glimmering around his edges. I knew she wasn't actually drunk. Ha ha. Knew it all along. The thug snarls, turning back to Niolle. This strikes me as the right moment to reassert my traditional stranglehold on attention. "Friends!", I bellow with a thin veneer of charm. "I believe you may have had too much to drink. Perhaps you should start taking your hair of the dog now." I gesture back toward the temple, partygoers still pouring out to gawk at this spectacle. "I made sure to leave some for you." I stride toward them calmly, and send praise to Gruumsh for giving me the height to make even my calm stride menacingly fast. "The //five// of us were just leaving." The thugs move in towards the kid, who falls into a crouch and covers his head, whimpering. //Shit.// I draw my glaive, now close enough to possibly intercept one of them. "There is still time for you to avoid doing anything foolish." [[Hope they don't do something foolish]] [[Hope they do something foolish]]

It would be so simple, wouldn't it? The boy would be unharmed. The townspeople would see us as peacekeepers. My friends would not have to fight. The thugs would get to keep all of their limbs. The thugs would not have to have their bones broken, or their bellies slashed open, or their teeth ripped from their skulls. Everyone would be happier, I would be happier if I did not find myself grinding this worthless, evil creature's skull into the pavement, No, //no//. Fight it. Use it. Wait for the moment. [[Use it]]

Oh, it would be glorious, wouldn't it? The grum, seeing what happens to those who trespass against our kind. The townspeople, sneering, cowardly, shown the consequences for crossing me. The thugs screaming, begging for mercy. Mercy! I can hear myself laughing already. Mercy for the Evil who would harm an innocent child? Because he is a grum? To be allowed to live would be more than merciful. To let him crawl away, one limb unbroken, spine bruised but intact, a few teeth left to, No, //no//. Fight it. Use it. Wait for the moment. [[Use it]]

On the rare occasion that I find myself soul-searching, most of what I find inside me could be best described as "fire". A fire that drives away darkness. A fire to gather around. A fire that sheds light... and deepens shadows. A fire to forge with. A fire to forge myself with. A fire to reforge myself with every day. A fire that consumes. A fire that will consume, forever and without end. A fire that can be guided, but not contained. A fire that //burns//. A fire to destroy. But inside the fire, fueling it, is something cold. I don't hear it often. But that cold thing speaks to me, now. [[Listen]]

Everyone remains fixed in their places. Child, thugs, us, and a few random partygoers, presumably heading home until... until this. I want to take an exploratory step towards the waiting tragedy, but am afraid to do anything to unfreeze the scene. I find myself glancing towards my friends, knowing them one of them will have a plan. [[Hope]]

The cold thing says: "Take in this scene." It says: "Fix it in your mind." It commands: "Remember it, forever." It commands: "Swallow this feeling." It explains: "Now is not the time." It explains: "They are not worthy of your Hate." It assures: "I will tell you when it is time." It assures: "When it is time, you will never have to swallow your Hate again." And so it goes. [[Back to the scene]]

Audacity. Spectacle. Let everyone hear what they expect from me. Play into the goons' fear. Make it clear to the witnesses I gave them a chance. "How many teeth do you have, friend?" I ask. I'm close enough, now. One last chance to do this thing the right way. I stop, and lean nonchalantly on my glaive. I adopt what appears to be a relaxed pose, bending my knees to bring myself down to their height. "How... many teeth?", he asks. He starts smacking his club into his hand, nervously, holding his ground. Why?, I ask myself. This is not the way of cowards. My gut turns, slightly. Something is wrong. "I asked how many teeth you had. For example, I am almost up to one hundred!", I proclaim, grinning broadly. For just an instant, I can see the temptation on his face to count, before I go on, "I keep them in a box under my bed." Beat. "Would you like to make a contribution?" Everything I know about Evil, about Fear, about the Petty and the Small, tells me he should break. He could walk away, telling himself whatever stories he likes about the viciousness of orcs, constructing whatever elaborate revenge plans he likes for this slight. There's Always Tomorrow, he could tell himself, and live long to confirm it. He raises his club instead, and moves in. I did not want to do this. I will try not to enjoy it too much. [[Fight!]]

The thug's opening swing is fast but clumsy, and I manage to step out of the way and bring the tip of my glaive across his chest, biting the flesh underneath his padded armor. I glance over at my friends. Reidmar is moving toward me, moving so swiftly it almost appears as if he does not need to touch the ground. Niolle is clutching her side, but before I can worry, she points with the clutching hand and sends an arc of lightning into her assailant's chest. Melody is summoning... some kind of creepy iron crown? //Warlocks//. The thug is coming at me again. The kid is on his feet, starting to move. The other thug is preparing to take another swing at Niolle. The crowd around the area is growing thicker, moving in slightly. There are too many pieces in place. I can't take my time with this guy. Gotta make it quick. [[End it]]

He comes at me with another wild blow. Under other circumstances, I would step to the side, let him exhaust himself, dispatch him at my leisure, but I don't have that luxury right now. I take his swing on my side, twisting to reduce the impact. This puts me in range to bring my forehead into the bridge of his nose with enough force to shatter it. My violent motion is anything but pleasant after all that beer, but the pain and nausea queues up with my drunkenness to take their payment later. I listen for the thud of him hitting the pavement, using my eyes to instead scan for the kid, who has made it to the periphery of the crowd. A woman there grabs him. To guide him to safety, no doubt. Niolle's enchantment flares, and the woman releases her grip. She snarls, and lunges for him again. No. //NO!// It's all going wrong. [[Save the boy!]]

Too close to use it effectively, I still manage to stab my glaive through his armor, into his belly. Not far. Far enough. I push him backwards, and withdraw my weapon, eager to move onto my next prey. "DOWN!", I scream. He's still on his feet, still coming toward me. [[Keep slashing]]

I slash at him again, leaving a vicious cut across his flesh. [[Keep slashing|Keep slashing 2]] [[Show mercy]]

I withdraw from the combat, panting heavily. It occurs to me that my foe has been dead for several slashes already. I briefly search for some guilt to apply to this situation, unsuccessfully, and decide it's one more thing for the queue. Reidmar has already managed to make it to the kid. Seems he's dealing with that alright. [[Protect the child|Continue the hunt]] [[Continue the hunt]]

I slash again, a second cut crossing the first, just as brutal. [[Keep slashing|Keep slashing 3]] [[Show mercy]]

I slash again, opening up the first cut further. [[Keep slashing|Keep slashing 4]] [[Show mercy]]

I slash again, slicing vertically and opening up his wounds even further. The pain starts to recede. [[Show mercy]]

The child certainly should be my first priority. I turn instead to find the other one with the weapon. Maybe I can take my time a little more with this one. Draw out his fear. Drag out his screams. Paint the streets with his blood. Niolle and Melody are shouting something about magic. They're pointing at the crowd, yelling something about control. [[Realize]]

I wish this were over. I wish I was in bed. Magic. Goddamn inescapable fucking //magic//. I wish Hal were here. He would have something to say about this magic. He would have something to say that //rhymed//. I come up on the remaining goon's blindside. The giddy anticipation of hurting him is gone. Even severing his head from his neck in one blow would bring me no joy. I settle for putting the haft of my glaive into his temple, knocking him out cleanly. Good. There some shouting from the temple. Byfuglian and some guardsmen are emerging (//now??//) and trying to restore order. The crowd is dispersing. Too late. [[Witness the aftermath]]

Guards are pouring in now, moving to the two bodies at our feet. One they haul away, perhaps to a jail cell. The other... the other they call the priests over for. Did he have a religion? Do these people give their monsters proper burials? I don't know. I don't care. Melody is arguing with some of the temple's priests about the magical influence, but it's obvious from here it's not going well. Already dispersed, they'll say tonight. Never there, they'll say tomorrow. Reidmar is talking to Byfuglian. This conversation seems to be going better, but just a little. Notorious scum, he's saying tonight. Misguided, they'll say tomorrow. The day after that, perhaps it'll be "one of us" slain by "one of //them//." These things are so predictable after a while, and so damn tiring. Niolle is tugging on my arm, gently pulling me over to the others. I would love nothing more than to wrench away, storm back into the temple, and drink myself into peaceful oblivion. [[Go with her]]

I let Niolle drag me over to the others. She says a few words and touches each of our foreheads in turn; the agony in my ribs suddenly becomes muted, and even the rising tempo of my oncoming headache slows and softens. It's a start, at least. Glancing around, I see peace officers moving the crowd away. I pick up on certain things again, this time without having to pierce any subtlety. A civilian pointing towards us and making a "horns" gesture. The guardsman nodding, and responding with "fangs". A cleric bringing something over to the dead body, glaring at us on the way. Byfuglian, looking between us and the crowd, making up his mind about something. And then I manage to find the boy again. The grum. Unharmed. Oh. [[Approach]]

I walk over to the grum and kneel, placing my hand on his shoulder. I have to keep this brief. "Do you know why you were attacked tonight?", I ask. "Be... be- be-" His lips are quivering. I would not fault him for crying, and my question does nothing to help. Helping him in that way is not my role, though. I must play my part. "Because I... I'm..." "Not 'because you'," I say, staring into watery eyes. "'Because they.' Because they are afraid of you. This is your life. Our life. Wherever you go, no matter how far you flee. Whatever you do, no matter how noble. There is always Evil, and it will always find you, and cover you with its shadow." I stand abruptly. "Tomorrow, I will begin teaching you two things. First, I will teach you of Good, and how to harden your heart against the temptations of Evil. Second, well..." I smile at the trembling little grum, and gesture towards the slain thug. "If the bastards want to be afraid of you, I will make you into something to fear properly." I turn and walk away, and swallow every impulse to look back. [[Go directly to bed]]

Bed. Bed. Bed. No distraction. Bed right now. Niolle is coming over. She's got something in her hands. Not now. Damnit. She's opening her mouth. This is going to be something that can wait until morning, goddamnit, spit and mud, Gruumsh's teeth, I am done with tonight, it can wait, I just know it can. She's starting to say something, let me //rest//, blood and pigshit, godsdamn, helldamn, damn damn damnit damnit //damnit// leave me //alone// so I can... She's holding the puppy. The same puppy we already found once. The puppy we tracked down and returned to Byfuglian already. We can just give the puppy back to Byfuglian, he's //right there//, we can just uggggghhhhhhh She wins. [[Take the damn puppy]]

I take the tiny puppy. It looks up at me happily, tail wagging. Byfuglian has enough on his plate right now, I guess. This is... this is fine. I head for the inn, tiny bundle of warmth in the palm of my hand. [[Conclusion]]

So. Inn, bed, sleep, dream, awake. I take in the room again. All things considered, my room is doing pretty well, as rooms I've stayed in go. I mean, that mirror is broken, frame and all. These bedsheets are going need to be... actually, these bedsheets are a lost cause. There's a spot on one of the walls with a row of tiny craters that I recognize far too quickly as having the same spacing and depth as my knuckles. Hang on. [[Where's...?|End Story]]

I squint and look, but don't see anything. I'm still adjusting to the night, trying to get my darkvision back, when there's a flash of lightning, and I find myself feeling sober once again. In that moment, I see the whole tableau. The child, backed up against the crates. Afraid. The two men, cornering him, drawing their clubs. Hateful. They're turning towards us, but advancing on him. In an instant, I work through the distances. The length of my stride, the length of my arm, the length of my glaive. The distance between man and child, the difference in height between raised arm and skull, the impact of metal on bone. Fuck. //Fuck.// [[A cold feeling inside]]

"HEY CHAARRRLIE!", Niolle shouts. What. "CHAARRRRRLIE, COME BACK TO THE PAAAARTY", she slurs. This is not happening. Niolle staggers away from the group. Both thugs turn to each other at once, and then lock eyes on the weaving cleric. She trips over her own feet, giggles, and continues to make her way towards "Charlie", albeit as indirectly as possible. Niolle is either a very good actress, or she has far more experience with drunkeness than I would have guessed. Or is just really, really drunk, right now. She finally makes it "Charlie", crossing the last dozen feet or so sideways. I take a few experimental steps towards the scene, and mercifully this is one of those rare moment in my life where no one is paying attention to me. "Charrlie, Chaaaaarlie," Niolle babbles out, "I gotta say somethin', Charrlie. Lemme say soomething!" I check my progress. Closer. Still too far. Reaaaally hoping she's not actually drunk. "Uh, what? Say what?", the thug grumbles. He's taking a step back, and Niolle is taking a step closer. She's still babbling, "All I wanna saaaay is..." [[...is?]]

I only manage one step in that direction before I realize I never heard the thug hit the floor. I swing my glaive around to parry, too late, his club impacting the same set of ribs again, dead on this time. There's a sickening crack as pain explodes through my body. The pain takes over. [[END HIM]]

Magic. A chill hits my gut. //Magic.// Why else would they keep fighting? How else could he have stayed on his feet so long? How could I have been so stupid? The brief satisfaction of surrendering myself to the hunt abandons me. I'm wet. I'm cold. I'm past drunk and tired. Nothing about this fight is right. [[Cut to the end]]

I look around a third time, hastily, a little panicked, before glancing under the bed. Something small and furry is curled up, still sleeping, a few chicken bones scattered around him. I put my head back on my pillow, let the relief wash over me, and close my eyes. Lessons begin to flow into my head, taking shape. I see the beginnings of a new future, just possibly. I can't help but feel just a little excited. END LOG