The Stamping Grounds

The sun was low in the sky when I finally made it back to the mainland of Agon. I was so drained and disenchanted by the last month's events that I didn't even care to stay out of sight; I took the raft straight up the river; the same river that had originally carried me to this land. The sails pulled me upstream and eventually I docked in Sandbrook. I had come full circle, now a little stronger and wiser, but once again alone and directionless.



I walked around my old haunts, seeing new recruits killing goblins and skeletons on the beaches and in the woods. I tried to help them, gave them a few tips here and there where I could, handed out some of my old gear, but it was painfully obvious that Sandbrook was no longer a home to me. I had outgrown the frontier village. There was little I could accomplish, and few I could help by staying longer. That's what I thought anyway, but I was soon proven wrong.

I was sitting by the Vault in Sandbrook, passing time by going through the very modest wealth I'd accumulated, when I saw a ragged and bloody man stumble by. This wasn't an uncommon sight in Sandbrook, as recruits were often bested by goblins and sent back to their bind stones. But then three more walked by, and another two again. Something was clearly wrong.

I stopped the last woman as she limped past me and asked what had happened. "There's a murderer out there hiding in the woods. He came out of nowhere while I was looting a goblin and killed me. I need to get back out there and see if he left any of my gear, excuse me!" I assumed the story was the same for the others wandering by. Excited by the prospect of being able to help the town I strapped on my best scale armor and slipped out the back gate of Sandbrook.



I didn't have very high hopes for the battle. Until now, in almost every fight I'd had with murderers, I'd been forced to run. In the rare cases where I didn't flee for my life, I had the upper hand somehow. Now it was just me, no plan or backup, striking against someone who was likely much more powerful than myself. I crept through the bushes and waited, observing the recruits pushing back the constant stream of goblins. One woman wandered off by herself and leaned back behind a tree after a brutal fight, trying to avoid more goblin arrows. If ever there was a time for this murderer to strike, it was now.

I didn't have to wait for more than a few seconds; a human wearing leather armor coated in bones sprayed a giant stream of fire at the recruit, blasting her backwards into a tree. Light gathered in his hands and then a spear of electric energy lanced out towards the prone recruit. He drew a spiked greatsword from a sheath on his back to finish off his stunned victim.




I saw my chance, and sprang from my hiding place. I cut into the aggressor's back, breaking off pieces of his bone armor, but getting my blade caught at the same time. He spun around with a rictus snarl on his face, almost wrenching the sword from my hand.

"What are you doing!" he hissed, holding his sword before him. "These men are ruthless killers! I must stop them, and you're getting in the way!"

I was shocked. Usually the only sounds I heard out of these murderers was laughter or taunts. This man though, had a light of madness in his eyes. "Who do you think you're protecting?" I asked him. The bone covered man blinked in genuine confusion. The recruit he had attacked scrambled to her feet and ran back towards the city.

"The goblin tribes.. They're being relentlessly hunted for sport! Every time they try to rebuild more men come and invade their homes!" I slowly pulled my sword away from him, but didn't sheath it. He stood quivering before me, not seeming to notice the oozing gash in his back.



"But the goblins are invaders... this is Mercian land, they kill the people here." I wasn't sure why I was trying to reason with him, but I couldn't help myself.

"No, the goblins only kill those who enter or come near their homes. Do they try to steal from the humans? No! So much of Mercia is empty, why don't they let the goblins have some?" No immediate answer came to my head, so he continued. "They're escaped slaves, you know. They ran from Ork oppression, weakening human enemies, but they're met with hate everywhere they go! Tell me, do they chase you after you leave their villages? Hunt humans down?"

"They've invaded Sandbrook so often the walls had to be rebuilt!"

"Did you ever actually see goblins invading?"

"I-" He was right... I hadn't. Not once did I ever see a goblin leave it's own village area. "You hunt your own kind, how are you any better?"

The madness returned, "I am their savior! They chose me and my fellow warriors to deliver them from injustice!"

"There's more of you?" I found myself hoping that the rest were just simple old fashioned marauders and that there wasn't more than one nutter under the same flag.

"Of course, the Goblin Preservation Society. We kill humans because the goblins can't do it themselves. Now leave this goblin home, or I will make you leave."

Confused, but feeling bold, I raised my scimitar, and the fight began. I held my own for a while, primarily using my blade to hack bits and pieces off the goblin-sympathizer, but every now and then he'd speed off to duck behind a tree, and cast a few spells on himself. Then he'd charge back entirely refreshed, or fire his bow at me from his hiding spot.






I didn't know any of these healing spells and soon our fight became one of attrition, and without magic, I was losing badly.




The battle though, had attracted some interest. The local goblin tribes had slunk down from their huts and were now firing arrows into the fray, aiming for both of us.

I was in a bad way, armor scorched from my enemy's spells, dozens of cuts around my arms and thighs, and a few fresh arrows sticking out of my calf and hip. My opponent was ever fresh. I downed my last potion and started to look for a way to escape, maybe lure the madman back to the guard towers. But, it soon became unnecessary. Some of the new recruits had heard the fighting, and recognizing the man who had killed and robbed them just moments ago, gathered together and rushed to join the battle as one. As unskilled as they were, sheer numbers began to wear my enemy down, and with fear in his eyes, he fled the field, only to be only to be further shot by his own goblins.





I caught up to him and with a few quick swings and a powerful stab I brought him to the ground. I left him there bleeding out, and soon the recruits found him and pushed past one another to be the first to finish him off. They gave a cheer and set about looting the fresh body as quickly as they could. One man ran back to town swinging a the spiked two handed sword, another walked away wearing some of the bone armor. I went back to Sandbrook, my mood slightly uplifted, but still not much improved.

Relaunch

Big things are in the works for Darkfall. I know I left the Travelogues on a "cliff hanger" of sorts. I do have about 2-3 stories saved as drafts on the website, and the screenshots to put with them, but I think I'm going to hold onto them for now. I was extremely busy over the past few months, and this year won't be much better. But! Within the next month or two, I plan to relaunch my efforts into this blog, hoping to coincide with the patches leading up to the next Darkfall expansion, maybe bring some new readers into the fold.

So, don't worry, I'm not dead. The remaining stories, and new ones are indeed coming, and they will be more regular after the relaunch as I settle myself back into Darkfall. I hope you've enjoyed reading these stories so far, I've enjoyed writing them. So until next time!

A Necessary Evil

And so our group was assimilated into a clan of folks called Necessary Evil. Quite a fitting name.

As new recruits, we were hardly treated any better than we had been when we were living in the wild. We still slept in the mud, and instead of having free reign, we had to gather raw materials for the clan, an initiation fee. We were allowed a fire though.

Before we could be trusted as true members of Necessary Evil, we had to muster up 100 pieces of timber, and 100 iron ingots. This turned out to be a much easier job than before, as we now had large stretches of safe land to harvest from. But working to make these marauders even wealthier disturbed me. I figured it was something I'd just have to get used to though. I didn't exactly have to go with them on their killing sprees, maybe not everyone in the clan was a raider.

As we assimilated into clan life, our tight knit group of friends that had formed on the mainland soon began to unravel and go its separate ways.

Redham took to the seas, to no one's surprise, and manned cannons on voyages to hunt massive beasts called krakens. He wouldn't get much of the treasure haul from successful trips, but he said he enjoyed himself nonetheless. It sounded like good fun, and I regret not going with him.

Publius would accompany him on many of these outings, but he soon fell victim to routine. Each day I'd see him rise, spar in the city with other members of the clan, then he would be required to get on board a ship and head out to hunt the same beasts over and over again. Sometimes at the day's end he'd talk to me about the other folks he was meeting at sea, but never with much enthusiasm. It seemed to me he enjoyed his time with Necessary Evil less and less. Then one day, he was simply gone. No one knew where he went, or why, but I had my guesses.

The others soon vanished as well. Clan life didn't quite fit them here on this exotic island. Some began to miss the mainland, other's missed their freedom and independence. Some were just outright disturbed by the activities the clan was involved in.

There was one of us though, who seemed to benefit the most.

The dissenter, the one who first suggested we join with these men, took to the killing easily. He reveled in it. Before long he was training day and night. Sometimes I'd join him while he sat and listened for hours to the clan leaders. They'd ramble on about how best to kill, where to find the most vulnerable people, and the fastest way to get gold. It didn't settle well with me, and ignored most of it, but from the look on my friend's face, he was absorbing every last word. With disturbing quickness, he became a different person. Or, I wonder now, perhaps he was always that way, and he just needed to be put in the right environment.

I worried a little, that such a person could have been so closely involved in our own group, that I hadn't seen this side. How much did I really know my other allies? I tried to console myself by reminding myself that I wasn't the one who recruited all of them. But the words meant little, when faced with the reality that I had lost my allies to this clan. What's worse, as time went on, and I got a sense of the bigger picture, of the politics of clans all over Agon, the one we had rashly sided with was fairly unimportant and poor. I'd had enough.

After about a month enduring time with the barbarians, and watching my friends vanish one by one, I decided it was time to leave. Redham tried to convince me to stay, but he quickly gave up, as even he could hardly stand to be on Yssam any longer. But when it came time for me to leave, he decided to remain behind. I took the wood I had gathered for our clan leaders, and fashioned it into a raft. Gathering my best possessions, I set out back for Mercia.