The Journey of Garwor Greyclaw

[Garwor]

I have finally arrived in a town called Hlint.  It is so different from my village home in the mountains of Krashin, the isle to the north, where the people of the Great Bear live.  The huts are all very square, and have planks over the doors, to keep others outside . . . No matter, I feel closed in when I cannot see the blinking eyes of the ancestors overhead when I sleep.  

I have no way to support myself - in my village, I held an important role as the first warrior, and others made what I needed and brought it to me.  Not so here.  There are many warriors, and most have skills and even make their own clothes and weapons.  I will have to learn.  I have books, but I do not read well at all and they will take me some time to master.  So, I am trying to learn to make goods from the rat pelts that I have from my recent hunting trip in the 'caves' under the town.  I have found work, on the strength of my axe, trying to find one they call 'the rat man' who has stolen an important book from the town fathers . . .

In the 'caves' below, I met a woman called Lia.  She was strange to me at first, slender and graceful, and skilled with a bow - they do not have such women in my villiage - but her mind was strong and her aim sure and I wecomed her guidance for a time.  It was she who first saw to my safety in this strange place.  How odd, a wisp of a girl looking after a Greyclaw warrior.  She offerred to take me to the rat man's lair, but my travels had left me weak and I had to retire without seeing it.

The next day, I tried again, but I cannot do it alone I fear, the rats are so many and so vicious as if they are driven by spirits . . . I kill and kill by the score and yet they come in waves every day.  I will prevail yet.

I have met other men as well, warriors, who while small and slight in some cases, have been more that willing to show me around and help me negotiate with the merchants to get better weapons and armour.  Appello Hilltop and his friend, Pathfinder, walked with me in town before going off to get some goblin ears.  I would have loved to have gone, but again, fatigue set in and I had to sleep.

The following day I spent trying to get some tools for a trade, so I could perhaps support myself - my cornbread ran out just this morning and I have no more food.  Others make their own food, and some trade coins for their meals, but I will not do as beggars do and barter for the gift of the earth spirit.  Instead I have gone fishing, and my skills work here as at home.  I am not allowed to light a fire in the town however, and it is too dangerous to light one outside the walls, so I may not be able to cook the fish I caught, but I will survive here.  

Last night, I was engaged by Ragdar Gridatix, who had lost several ox-beasts to the dog-men while gathering south east of town.  I watched over his beast and helped him fill bags with goods and he generously allowed me some strange potions, which he said would aid me, but as yet they reamain unopened in my pack.  Apparently, he is some kind of Shaman, and his power is great, since he closed the glorious woulds I gained from the dog-men right before my eyes!!  And no scars to prove I did battle . . . I will not be able to prove myself worthy as a warrior with the smooth skin of a child!!  No matter, his help and guidance in taking me outside the walls of Hlint was appreciated.  I found some gold among the bodies and Ragdar said I could keep it, along with the shovel I was using.  He is very generous indeed.  He was able to collect the goods he wanted however, and with that, he seemed quite pleased.

Perhaps we shall me again, for his courage is great.  So begins my life in Hlint . . .

[Garwor]

Today was a day of great learning.  Of life, luck and death.  

As I sat before my campfire this morning, cooking and eating, I knew that had to find the Ratman below the city, as I had sworn to do.  Surely, I could navigate the 'caves' below Hlint and find the thief, no matter how numerous his minions, after all, they are but rats!  How could I, Garwor, heir to the Greyclaw clan, and still breathing and holding my axe be denyed by vermin!!  I have waded into the thick furry mass of bodies many times now, and barely escaped with my life.  Sometimes, I have seen my ancestors, in the distance, beckoning me back the snows of my youth, only to awake, barely alive and bitten hundreds of times it seems, laying in a pool of my blood with a score of their disease ridden carcasses at my feet and dangling lifelessly from the back prongs of my war axe.  Bleeding, I would drag my self back up the passage and up the stairs without my prize.  

I would almost be able to swollow my pride enough, as my wounds healed, to ask another warrior for help.  The warriors here, gather in teams often - even though sometimes they do not even know one another.  But it is simply not the way of my people.  Our war parties are small and the warriors in it have known each other since childhood, they have learned the wisdom of our ancestors together, and any would gladly cut you down rather than allow you to run in fear.  My pride was too strong still, to ask another to help me complete a task of combat . . . in our tribe, we had a sacred oath: "Every warrior is an army unto himself."

But, today, I swore it would be different, my war-cries had failed to alter the balance.  Today, I would let my patience my greatest weapon.  I was like the game we played as children, where we would try to sneak into the village without being seen by the adults, and anyone that was caught would be tied to a rock without food for the next days - Ah, I used to love that game, for even when you lost it was fun - it make you harder.  But . . . enough longing for childhood pleasures.  It was a game that I was good at, and today I would attempt it once again, though the penalty for failure would likely be death.

I set out before the sun came up fully, and went into the 'caves,' moving quietly from shadow to shadow.  It is difficult to fool an animal and sooner or later they would hear or catch my scent, and I would dispatch them with bolt or the flat of my axe.  I worked my way through the gloom, deeper and deeper I went, until I found the stairs down to the lower 'caves' and I entered.  I found the lair of the biggest spider I have ever seen.  My homeland is cold, and the few spiders that live their are either very small or live so deep underground that they are not seen by men.  I stuck close to the walls, as for as I could from it, and hoped that I would not sense me.  If it was my skill, it's lack of desire, or simply luck, it stayed where it was, as I dispached the remaining vermin with my crossbow and made my way to the Ratman's lair.  He was, as I had hoped, busy spinning tales with his minions when I arrived.  Keeping quiet I made my way up behind my foe . . .

Ignoring the threat posed by his minions, I shouted my war-cry and the Ratman charged . . . and swung quickly catching me off guard, and cutting me well and deep.  While agile and crafty, the fury of my axe blows were too much for his meagre body however, and he died quickly.  Seizing my prize, I moved quickly to the shadows again and tried to go back the way I had come, thinking the way clear.  The Ratman's minions, alerted by the battle and the scent of my blood, swarmed after me, oblivious to the fact that their master was dead.  Realizing that there would be no use in trying to slip by, I ran as the vermin attacked by the score . . . As I ran, and felt thier tiny teeth sink into my flesh, I began to feel my will lessen . . . the effort to keep moving greater and greater.  By the time I reached the spiders lair, I knew that I would not see daylight again.  I stopped running and begain swinging my axe, sending blood and fur flying in all directions, as they kept biting relentlessly . . . I kept swinging, though my blood flowed freely, their ranks had been thinned greatly by my axe, and I turn to run to the hall leading out of the chamber, and my heart nearly exploded in my chest with fright - the huge spider had seen me and was closing on me from my blind side . . .

In my mind the sounds of battle became quiet, I could see the face of my father saying the sacred oath        
"Every Warrior is an army unto himself."  With the sheer number of new rats doubling by the second, and my blood staining the stones, I screamed my death cry and raised my axe and prepared to go to the ancestors with a trophy worthy of my death . . . Then, from the shadows, I heard a strange voice - speaking earnestly and quickly and with the crackling of a hundred campfires, the light of his ancestors flowed from his hands and struck the spider full in the side - killing it in a single blow!!  Leaping from the shadows and over the spiders body came a gnome Appello, that I had met in town, and his band of warriors.  Truly, the ancestors had smiled on me this day!!  To have couragous warriors arrive to witness the glorious stage that had been set for my death, to hear my death scream and see my axe raised for the last time, only to pluck me from certain death was nothing sort of destiny.  One of the brave warriors fell, trying to reach me, but so near to death myself, I was unable to use my medicines well, and I failed to help him.  Instead, we were able to cluster around him and drag him up the stairs to safety.  Knowing that the rats would not be far behind, we tended to his wounds and made our way forward firing our bolts and arrows, but relying mosting on the gnome to clear our path with his spirit powers and his weapons.  When we emerged, without much in the way of conversation, I thanked them and offered my debt to them, and they were gone.  

Never would I have believed that warriors this thin, or a gnome - who is much shorter even than my axe, would fight like the Bears of my people.  Today, I have learned new respect for all warriors, no matter how strange they might seem at first.  I owe these brave men a tremendous debt - and I will repay it.        

[Garwor]

It has been many moon cycles since I have taken the time to write.  I look at my early writings and see the folly of the young warrior who came south from Krashin to find his way to the bear.  

I have been humbled many times by the Spirit of the Oldest Ancestor, and gone in search of my grave weaker in spirit, but wiser . . . These journeys have caused me to question much.  I now fully realize how great the problems are that afflict my people, but I am unsure that the way of the bear will bring them salvation from the warlords that threaten them.

I have seen power, among the other dwellers of Mistone, that is much greater than the warriors of my people, the old Shaman in my village and perhaps even my father . . . I must seek the greatest power that I can and learn it - so that I may bring it back to my people and save my tribe.  I must find that power . . . for now it eludes me.

I have done what I came to do, slowly, I am a preparing for battle, learning, watching and making allies.
I have made my own armour, my own bow and the arrows that my people have used for all time.  With these, I will go forth and become my destiny . . . my people depend on me . . .

For now, I must rest.

Garwor Greyclaw