I pondered these things until reached my current home, Hildershall. To take my mind off the trouble in the East I asked around for work, but no one was offering any jobs. Frustrated, I geared up and went out on my own to hone my sword skill against some of the local scum.
I cut my way through the kobolds on the beaches, chasing them into the tall grass. Some of their smaller fighters would duck in the reeds while their allies blindly fired in, but it wasn't enough. In an hours time, the camp was empty of kobolds, and I began working northward through the wilderness, eventually reaching a river. It was running swiftly, the current powerful, I recognized it as the one that fed into Chillborne. I decided to stop by the city to drop off some loot. Fortunately, there was a merchant in the area looking for a fighter. He offered me some armor if I'd go out past the cemetery and kill some of the local undead, some trolls, and other undesirables. I just absently nodded and accepted the work.
I knew the graveyard area well, having been killed there several times by Ork raiding parties. I'm sure I wasn't the only one. A lot of the raw recruits around Sandbrook and Monkfield had whispered about it, calling it the new Britain Cemetery, whatever that meant. Even knowing this, I did not try to hide. I cut through the zombies and skeletons with old swords I'd collected from outlaws, then fought to the troll camp. The silence was weighing heavy on my mind. He'd seen no one, and other than the merchants in the towns, and talked to no one, in a very long time.
The trolls proved to be a challenge. Their spell casting and mob mentality was frustrating. As they swarmed me all at once I began to hack at them in a rage, wishing they'd just stand still, to no avail. I tried fighting back with my own meager spell capabilities but that didn't help the situation at all. Occasionally I managed to pin one by itself and cut it down, but there were long rests after each kill, because as I killed one, the others would stab for the weak places in my armor. Before long my potions and food were running out. It was during one of these rests that I encountered someone entirely unexpected.
I saw him first, a fighter dressed in bone armor. With a zeal that hadn't been there moments before I pulled myself out my apathetic stupor and charged him with my sword high. He spun around, arcane energy already swirling around him and then stopped. "Signus? Wait!"
I checked my swing when I got a look at him. Behind the bone mask, was the face of Publius. "Pub, what are you doing here?"
He let his spell dissipate and scolded me. "Is this a thing you do now, attack random people trying to get through swamps? You've fallen to pieces without me."
"I..wasn't thinking clearly. But really, where have you been?"
We caught up as he joined me in my task against the trolls, who were now entirely outmatched.
He'd been wandering Ork lands and as far north as the Dwarven shore, not sure what to do after the clan fell apart. After a while he traveled south, trying to track down Redham or anyone else.
"Well, did you hear from him?"
"Yes, actually. He's trying to pull us all back together. I think he sent a message for you, probably to Sandbrook, but he never heard back. He has a plan, but he wants us all to meet in Mirdain territory."
"Ugh, I just came from there, did he give a reason?"
"It's the land of milk and honey! Lots of scum to kill, lots of treasure to collect, and very few murderers to worry about. But that's only part of the plan, you'll have to come there with me for the rest."
Two days later, we were on our way west to meet with Redham and whoever else he'd gathered to him.
Charybdis, the Mirdain capital city. While I had just passed through this territory recently, I never stopped to look around. It was a beautiful land, seemingly untouched by the war that ravaged the rest of Agon. The trees were massive, beyond anything I'd seen in Mercia. Vines wound around the buildings, which themselves seemed to grow out of the landscape. They were crafted with a sinuous grace that blended them into the surrounding flora. But the strangest thing was how old everything felt. The leaves were green, the branches supple, the buildings gleaming, yet it all seemed ancient, preserved perhaps. It was here that I found Piratejim again, sitting on the banks of the great river that ran through the city. Sitting with him, were three others. I recognized them as those who went on the trip to Yssam before the group fell apart. The raft crew.
The closest figure was the dwarf who called himself Llemon; he was polishing the two longknives that he usually fought with. Beside him was Pangalactic, the burgeoning fire wizard. And getting to his feet, was the recruit who joined up with the clan on Yssam before vanished into the forest to join Necessary Evil, Blarggy. He was different now, he looked much stronger, and his eyes sparked with energy, reflecting hard work with arcane powers. The change was large, and startling.
Piratejim had gotten to his feet too, though it wasn't him that spoke. Blarggy led things off. "Well we're all finally here, we can get down to the business at hand. I've been talking to Redham, and we've decided that the six of us should form an organized clan. If we pool our resources and all work together, we could become a force to be reckoned with. And, I've learned a few things with Necessary Evil that I'll be able to pass along. There it is short and sweet, so what do you say?"
Pub took the suddenness of the speech in stride and threw in his lot with the plan right away. I had to admit to myself, the idea made a lot of sense. I knew these folks, some of them quite well. I could depend on most of them. But still, I dug in my heels. I felt my decision had already been made for me, which rankled, so I tried to hash out a few more details before we sealed the deal.
A half hour later, all that was left to decide was the name. Pangalactic offered a solution "Well, the goal is, by the end of this, to be like a terrible force of nature, right? Why not use those old names we joked around with back when we were new to Agon? Team Stormfront, wind, thunder, lightning?" Llemon looked confused but Pub and I quietly laughing to ourselves, remembering the old joke.
"Ok, yes, that's perfect. If we ever build a name for ourselves I'll laugh every time our enemies use it, and no one else will get it."
"I don't get it" Llemon chimed it. "Doesn't really sound funny at all, actually."
Pub started chuckling again, "One of those 'you had to be there' things Llemon. I think the name sounds great. So, it's official then? Team Stormfront?"
I like to believe that we didn't all jump into the air and cheer. But that's a lie.
