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This is the autobiographical journal of Arvil Bren, a somewhat reluctant hero who has been placed on an unknown quest by powers that he barely knows exist. Follow his journey as it is updated daily, Monday through Friday, and enjoy! These are the most recent entries in Arvil Bren's third journal; Politics of the Redoran. His first journal can be found in its entirety here. His second journal, Trail of the Archmage can be found here.

Monday, September 26, 2005

51: Mad legionnaire

I expected to be back in Ald-ruhn tonight. The run up to Ald Velothi to pick up Theldyn Virith's report should not have taken long, and the silt strider back to Ald-ruhn should have been available. The world, of course, does not operate based on how I think it should.

As it turns out I made the run to Ald Velothi and back twice, almost. The first trip came up just short when I met Din wandering down the trail.

Din is a Redguard, and was clad in the distinctive steel breastplate of the Imperial Legion. I was surprised. The Redguard people are the most respected soldiers in the Empire, usually completely devoted to their craft. Din's breastplate hung askew, unevenly buckled, and his sword was darkened with dried blood that had not been wiped clear. I have heard of Redguards who died caring for their weapons before tending to their own wounds.

It did not take long to figure out how Din came to be so unkempt. He was raving with fever. I gathered that the source of the fever was a horribly infected gash in his leg. It was so swollen and contorted that I would not have recognized it as a bite, but in his raving Din identified the culprit as a slaughterfish. Unfortunately in his raving he also identified me as a slaughterfish. The gory sword grated out of its scabbard.

Fortunately with his leg so badly injured he was not very mobile, and his fever prevented even the slightest concentration. Once I had skipped back out of reach of his sword he lost interest in me. I slipped up behind him and rapped him on the head.

It took some time for my magic to cure him, and then more to heal him enough to travel. Then it took even more time, since he insisted on cleaning his weapons and armor. I could not leave him to fend for himself in his weakened state and escorted him back to the garrison at Fort Darius in Gnissis.

I eventually made it to Ald Velothi in time to have lunch with the hetman. Humility almost made me ask him to reconsider his report to Lord Arobar of the council. He attributed far too much of the cooperation between the settlers and the Ashlanders to me and not near enough to their own efforts. However, I need to move up quickly in the eyes of the council, and Lord Arobar may become a valuable patron.

I took the report and trotted back to Gnissis. I was gathering my own papers and preparing to check out of the tradehouse when the proprietor knocked discretely on the door of my room. "You were planning to take the silt strider to Ald-ruhn?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied. Something in his expression made me add "I was."

"The caravaner has just arrived," he said. "He is a bit late. He just got out of Ald-ruhn ahead of an ash storm. A very severe storm, he says. He will not be going back today."

I thanked him. He had saved me the effort of getting all packed and then having to unpack again. I sat down glumly and went back to my own reports.

2 Comments:

Anonymous mikekearn said...

I remember Din. I convinced him to follow me back to a healer, but he nearly got me killed by attacking random beasts all the time. Crazy little guy.

3:28 PM  
Blogger Merdin said...

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7:22 PM  

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