1: Arrival in the World of Man

It is only on this, the morning of my sixth day in the world of man, when I can begin to write, because until now I had pen and parchment, but no ink. I will attempt to render every event accurately, but I can’t fully trust my memory. The strangeness of this world has been overwhelming.

As I write, I must remember not to provide with my words any simple trail that can lead to me or my mission. I will meditate on this before writing each day. When it becomes necessary, I must not hesitate to destroy these papers, no matter how precious they become to me.

I don’t recall precisely what happened before the purple smoke. Even for the two days previous, my memory is vague. I do remember our master’s warning that we would be sent out into the world. He told us of our mission, and asked that we seek the knowledge and prowess that only experience could bring – I assumed that we would discover what he meant, soon enough. The mission he gave us was not wholly unexpected, but I was taken aback. I had always expected that I would continue my training until it was deemed suitable for me to become an instructor in magic, to help our master train others.

The next two days are vague in my memory. I know I spent some time pondering the master’s words, and that we continued in the normal paths of our training, and I can only assume we slept and ate, though I recall nothing of that kind. I performed my meditative dance on both nights – that I remember better than other events, because it was particularly enriching, and it allowed me to clear my thoughts – if only that clarity of mind had remained with me!

The purple smoke cleared, and I found myself in an unfamiliar glade. After so many years in the monastery, anything unfamiliar was a surprise, but this would be the least of them. Three of the others were in sight: the Empty Hand, the Tracker, who was already pacing about nervously, and the Infiltrator. I know not what became of the other four. I have still, five days later, heard nothing of them.

The setting was unfamiliar, but our senses were alert; the master had taught us well what to expect in the world of man. At first, I thought we were hopelessly lost. Perhaps the master had set us immediately into our first challenge, making us find our way in a world about which we knew so little. Soon, though, we spotted a road in the distance, extending far to the north and south. “We were told to seek knowledge,” I said. “This road will lead us to it.” The others agreed.

As we approached the road, we heard horses in the distance, pulling a pair of carts. They call such an arrangement a ‘coach’ here. The coach came into our field of view, and was immediately ambushed by eight snarling beasts, who jumped out from the brush. I identified them from my training as kobolds, which are known to be almost universally evil beasts. My companions, making the same identification, immediately rushed to the rescue, but I thought them rash. We had been told of many evil things in this world, and if what we were witnessing was evil ambushing evil, there was nothing gained from helping one side or the other.

While my companions rushed to the scene with no attempt at covertness, I walked more cautiously, concealed by the trees. Once they were a bit ahead of me, though, I decided to conform. There was no use sneaking up to my enemy alone.

The fight was a difficult one – our first against real opponents who wanted us dead – but we successfully rescued the coach. By the end of the battle, the horses had bolted and both drivers had been killed. The two passengers who joined the fight fought well, considering that they lacked proper training, and they helped us dispatch the kobolds. One of the fighters had a healing ability, much like the Healer in the monastery. The other had abilities similar to the Infiltrator, although not as refined.

When the battle was over, the new infiltrator looted the kobold bodies for gold – all people here seem to be obsessed with the metal – while I examined one of the bodies up close. It was wearing a medallion, as were they all, with a portrait of a dragon upon it. This item I kept, in case it was related to our quest. The infiltrator, after looting the bodies, burnt them in the forest. It occurred to me while he was doing so, that not a single kobold had run, even the last one alive, who was swarmed by all six of us, and that they had fought with some sense of tactics, with styles normally too sophisticated for the beasts. Perhaps they were under the influence of some enchantment.

The Empty Hand retrieved the horses, and we all went on to the town that had been the coach’s destination. What better place could there be to gain knowledge than a concentration of people? Three were in the coach whom I had not noticed before – a woman, a man and a child. The child was strange, although I could not place the strangeness. While we approached the town, I asked the woman whether we would be attacked at the gates. Apparently, such a question is a breach of etiquette in these lands, as she was quite insulted. I will be more careful what questions I ask in the future.

There was a strange occurrence at the gates. The guards welcomed us, but then asked us to invent false names for ourselves. I can only assume that was what they were asking, since the others readily invented names, describing not themselves, but rather inanimate objects in the area. I don’t recall what they chose; I doubt it was important precisely how they demeaned themselves. Taken aback by this unusual custom, I gave a name I was called by on occasion by the master: Dancing Albatross. The others did not seem to like my choice, but that is their right.

The healer we’d rescued had connections at the town’s temple, so we stopped there, and were given food and lodging. The masters of the temple could tell me nothing about the amulet I had found, except that they had seen it before. When they had heard of our defeat of the kobolds, they thought us altruists, and told us of a pair of adventurers who had recently gone missing, hoping we would find them. Later, they named themselves in a way that seemed as fabricated as that of my companions upon entry into the town. I asked them what their names meant. They said their parents had given them these names, but they would not tell me why, or what meaning they had. Assuming the meanings were embarrassing or secret, I dropped the subject.

The next morning, as if the master were still guiding us, the leader of the town called us to his chambers, and entrusted us with a mission to retrieve a particular staff which had been used by his ancestor against the drow. In exchange, he offered us a number of coins which, I learned later, were of great value. It seems that in this particular town, and perhaps in many others, it is a common practice to exchange certain valuable metals for goods. The metals are shaped into small disks of uniform weight, and each is given a precise value in tradable goods that I have not yet figured out. Nor do I know how the value is determined. This was a strange concept to me, as the master had always given me whatever I needed. Somehow, the others found such an exchange quite natural, so I did not bring up the subject. Perhaps the master had explained it at one point, and I had not been listening. I will endeavor to learn more on this subject.

I did not understand why the leader of this town would trust a group of strangers to retrieve a powerful magical item, and I brought up my objection to the others. Their consensus was that the item was less valuable than the reward, since we could not trade it inconspicuously. Their explanation did not satisfy me, but I stopped arguing. They were no doubt eager to get on with their training, and I imagined I would soon learn the answer.

The six of us spent two days traveling to the ruins in which the staff was hidden, the healer carrying the key. The horses, apparently, had belonged to someone else, so we went on foot. On the first night, we stopped at a barbarian camp. I regret that I did not have time to learn more about that strange mix of humans, half-orcs and ogres, but other events made it impossible. The leader of the camp, with whom we had to communicate if we were to receive their hospitality, was an ogre of enormous proportions. He stood on a circular platform which was raised and fenced, and he had sacks wrapped around his hands. He was the champion of some sort of game which involved hand-to-hand combat, and was eager for challengers. The Empty Hand stepped up to fight him. It was his natural impulse, of course, since we have been trained these twelve years in combat. Fighting games were a central activity in the monastery, for we needed competition to help us hone our skills, and this game was simpler than those we had played before.

The Empty Hand fought well, but the first blow struck by the ogre laid him down. When the ogre immediately asked for other challengers and I stepped up, the others laughed. I know I am not strong, but my goal was not to win. Rather, I wanted to remain standing for as long as possible, to learn what I could from the ogre’s style of fighting. I did not learn as much as I hoped, though, and the contest lasted less than half a minute. My first idea was to distract the ogre with a spell, and rush at him, but I realized this would take too much time; he would surely have decided the distraction was not worth his attention by the time I was close enough to hit. Therefore, I chose a simple approach. I charged and punched in the lower belly, which was about as high as I could easily hit. My attack was more effective than I had expected, and the ogre staggered a step back, but from that point on, he had the upper hand. We each dodged the other’s blows once, and then he felled me, and I did not wake until the next morning. From what I was told later, the Tracker and the Infiltrator each took a turn, the later finally winning. This victory earned us all a good deal of respect from the barbarians, and we were given food and a place to rest, and asked to return.

Although it was on this third day that we recovered the staff, very little of interest happened. Our approach to the ruined town was uneventful. When we arrived, a pair of hell-hounds attacked us, probably interested only in a hearty meal, and we dispatched them without much trouble. The building which contained the staff was the only structure in the area which was wholly intact. The infiltrator attempted to pick the lock, which, even if the attempt had not failed, would have been a waste of time, since the healer had the key. Inside, we saw naught but a portcullis, which seemed strange for such a small room, and a sarcophagus with a keyhole. We were all wary of mechanical or magical traps, since we would have no method of escape were the portcullis to fall on its own, but it turned out that our fears were baseless. The sarcophagus was easily opened, and the staff removed from inside. We remained in the small building for an uneventful night.

We walked all day, and rested in the barbarian camp.

At night, we had an unexpected encounter. In the distance, the Tracker, with his elvan eyes, spotted two drow warriors waiting on mounds of earth to ambush us. At first thought, this encounter seemed quite natural, since we were carrying a staff that was said to have great powers against the drow. Examined more thoroughly, though, the situation made little sense. If there were drow about, why had the mayor been so sure they were gone? And why had they not attempted to steal the staff from its hiding place? Surely they could have overcome the wild beasts in that area, picked the lock, and taken the staff. Drow are said to have powerful magic, after all.

I am gradually discovering that I don’t have quite the mind for combat as the others. If I did, I would surely remember every detail of this battle, as it happened only last night. However, I only recall certain key points, like my cautious approach to one of the mounds, and our discovery that there was a third warrior hiding behind the mound on the left. The two on the mounds were equipped with poison arrows, which struck the Tracker down (he was later healed and revived), and the Infiltrator, wielding the townsman’s staff, struck the killing blow against all three. My participation was minimal, though no doubt my magic helped a bit.

Our enemies were carrying quite a weight of valuable objects. Each had a bow, a fine set of chain mail and a rapier of excellent quality, along with several pounds of gold and silver, and a sheaf full of poisoned arrows. The equipment was interesting in that it looked surface-made, which likely meant the drow had been away from their home for quite a while. I took one arrow along to analyze later, as did the Infiltrator. The healer burnt the poison off the rest of the arrows, and gave them to the infiltrator, who was disappointed. I will have to determine whether the infiltrator deserved such mistrust. The Infiltrator also took along all the coins, which was a good idea. I would not want to carry such a weight, and I wouldn’t know what to do with the coins.

We completed our journey that night, giving the townsman his staff and explaining about the drow and their surface-made equipment. He thanked us, and asked us to do two more things for him – to find out where the drow were coming from, and to learn more about the kobolds. Although I do not trust this person, and still do not know why he trusts us, I want to solve the later problem for my own purposes. Perhaps I am overly anxious, but our master sent us to this particular place for a reason, and the medallion depicted a dragon.