Olympus RPG Blog

Several pages from this journal have been destroyed by water damage and are illegible. It resumes in mid-sentence, with no indication of the date or the context although modern researchers have narrowed the date down to one of three in the year 2005 based on the reference to a sandstorm that wiped out Bordertown.

-damage is beyond the scope of anything I have witnessed before. Entire buildings have vanished, swallowed up by the sands, and the locals wandered the streets with wide, terrified eyes. Mendel did what he could to succor them though it was for naught as a small band of riders entered led by a captain named Benwell. They bore a strange story, of being overwhelmed by great insects in the desert commanded by a magic-using devilspawn. Their injuries were dire and the fear in their eyes too clear to be a lie and it was decided to abandon Bordertown, to retreat to Wallace. Our aid in convincing the citzenry was needed but we knew it would not be enough – the Enemy was too close and would reach the outskirts before the commonfolk could flee. A plan was agreed upon: we would remain behind with the Thunder to hold off the creatures and sell ourselves to save who could escape. I thought it a good plan, one worthy of us, and volunteered to scout our foes.

Atop Cometes I rode forth into the desert, skirting the escarpments and staying out of sight. The Enemy approached on swift legs, marching with military precision. Tall they were, a hand and a half greater than even Rainald, and dark scarlet in color, with broad wings and long glaives. Their captain floated at their back though he was gray and seemed to have no wings. None looked like the two creatures we fought in the desert. I counted eighteen of the red ones, though another pair came was revealed to me when I sought to return to the town. Neither of these scouts saw my passage.

In Bordertown I reported to Benwell. Thunder he may be but I thought him to be timid and unmanned by his flight from the creatures so it was to Rainald that I deferred to in terms of military strategy. It was decided that our band would move forward and ambush the scouts in the hopes that it would slow the full force. One of the Thunder accompanied us, a boy by the name of Radskyrta.

The ambush was successful though it was a close thing. I struck from concealment at one of the red creatures, but its hide turned my father’s sword aside and it grasped me with strong arms. God was with me as I was able to plunge a dagger into the beast’s eye, felling it. The other Rainald and Radskyrta charged, but they were laden down with mail so I was able to reach it before they much to my detriment as its glaive cut deeply into my flesh. It felled Radskyrta and Mendel disarmed it with a grace I had not expected from such a portly priest. Rainald then smote it with a blow the slew it outright. Again Mendel proved his worth by recalling Radskyrta from the brink of death and washing away my injuries with magic. Truly, God is good.

Back to Bordertown we went where Benwell declared his intent to abandon our charge and follow the commoners to Wallace. Again we volunteered to remain upon the flank to observe and ensure that the foul creatures would take no more lives. I suspect that our bravery surprised Benwell – for were we not mere mercenaries? – but it served a valuable purpose. The creatures entered Bordertown and ransacked it, seemingly searching for victims. Their foul leader then wove some great magicks that caused many fires before creating some sort of portal that the beasts used to depart. I rode to Benwell to advise him of this, then returned to my companions and suggested we retrieve the bodies of the two we slew for further study.

Night began to fall before we could reach Wallace so it was decided we would set camp and finish our journey upon the morrow. And what will that day bring us I cannot help but to wonder…

It is with considerable trepidation that I put quill to ink in a meager attempt to record my thoughts and fears. By no stretch am I a great scholar nor a wordsmith – I am many things: a bladesman, a rogue, a thief, a murderer, a liar, a Lost Soul likely damned to burn for my sins of which there are many. Of the Lord’s Commandments, I have violated all but two – never have I sought a God other than the Almighty, nor have I made false idols in His Name. All the rest have I broken and none do I regret more than my sundering of the Fifth.

But my thoughts wander astray and leadeth me into temptation. Who am I? I am Gabriel, of the fallen House Auditore, late of Crane and of Megalos. And, like my father before me, and his father, I was an Assassin.

I fear not these words falling into false hands, for I compose this using the codes and cyphers taught to me by my father, who learned from his father, and so on, back to the beginning. If you have the skill to break these cyphers, then I congratulate you and pray that I am already dead.

But no matter. I fell from Grace long ago, and now seek my path as that of a common mercenary, selling my blade to those who can afford it and seeking adventure where I should seek forgiveness. I am at peace with the Lord’s plan – would he save me from the cruel fate that fell upon my House if he did not have a Plan? He placed my feet upon this Path and I shall stride forth, eager to serve as he directs and be his blade where he needs me. The Lord knows I am a sinner – perhaps it is a sinner and not an upright man that he requires.

Of late, I travel with three – a northerner named Rainald who is strong of arm and of heart; a Franciscan named Mendel who is unlike any priest I have had the misfortune of dealing with; and an archer known as Talon, who is hunted for a crime he did not commit. An assassin – I know not if this man possessed True Training or no – slew the duke of Tacitus, and Talon is now hunted for this crime. Though this murderer – I hesitate to call him an Assassin – was later slain, my curiosity, ever my bane, has kept me at Talon’s side – if the murderer was truly trained in the Art as I was, then those he called Master must invariably move against any they consider threats. I had believed that the conspiracy that robbed me of my House was slain by my actions but now I wonder if it was wider than I feared.

But again I digress. I blame these meanderings upon poor sleep. My dreams have been dark of late, ever since the Great Desert. My companions and I ventured deep into its heart with a scholar and met what I can only call demons. The scholar lies in a deep, unnatural slumber and I wonder if ere he shall wake.

Tonight we sleep here in Bordertown. It is an ugly place with no grace or beauty. Men come here with dreams of glory and venture forth to die with naught but those dreams. If e’er I must enter that desert again, it will be too soon. Rather would I spend interminable weeks listening to theologians debate trivial points of the Bible than face one of those sand demons again.

But I tire and my hand weakens for I am unaccustomed to such scribe work.