Irobu's Odyssey of Deceit Chapter 11: Discovery

During Irobu’s eighth day of searching through the history section, she spotted that the missing gold-covered tome had been replaced. Further investigation confirmed her suspicions that it was Master Palus’ logbook. Her curiosity piqued, the young Sanusite dislodged the hefty tome from the shelf. Covertly, Irobu lugged the book to a far off corner of the library, placed it down on a dusty table, and carefully opened it.

Neat and orderly print resided inside. Palus started by explaining the disastrous circumstances that led to his promotion, though neither Irobu nor Thrun were interested in the specifics, and so she continued on. Next, she found pages and pages devoted to the happenings during Palus’ tenure, including everything from failed contracts to the transcripts of recruit interviews. This latter find prompted Irobu to flip to the newest entries. As it happened, she turned right to a page that documented Ser Griffiths’ interview. More inclined to read about a certain female member of her squad, Irobu started to turn from the knight’s tale.

I’d read that if I were you, Thrun advised. We need to know as much as possible about the Spellmarsh, and he practically lived in that place.

Fair enough, the other reports aren’t going anywhere I suppose, Irobu conceded and commenced scanning the page:

The first step to absolution is a confession. I, Ser Aydan Griffiths, was a sworn servant of Buain. I’m a native of Fairhaven, in fact born to Buain’s Home for the Unprotected…

Skipping what she saw as unimportant details, Irobu jumped farther down.

…the Knights of Buain trained me in combat. Truly some of the best fighters on this side of the Imperators. This was my weapon of choice [Ser Griffiths motions to a large hammer with the cornucopia insignia of Buain]. Blunt and direct, able to crush any monstrosities we came across. And monstrosities there were plenty—Buain as my witness. You see, Buain’s Keep was one of the border forts for Fairhaven, erected to protect us from the Spellmarsh…

Closer, Irobu remarked and kept skimming.

…one elite group ventured farther east. This expeditionary force was charged with keeping tabs on the ‘border’ of the Spellmarsh and recording observations of the chaotic region. Once I finished my training, I joined this expeditionary force, and entered into the command of the noble Ser Rewhort. He was a great commander, one time he…

Rolling her eyes, Irobu ignored the story and thought, I’m beginning to see why this took so long. This next bit should be what we’re after though. 

…but something started to change about twenty years ago. The Spellmarsh began expanding, slowly but surely. While there were always unnatural creatures in the Savernake Forest; there were still natural ones too—deer, wolves, birds, and the like. Then on patrols we noticed they too were becoming monstrous. They grew slimy, scaly hides and bizarre appendages. We’d find wolves and other animals with suction marks lacing their body. Not only that, but these new beasts became aggressive; yet another threat we had to deal with out there. The birds were smart enough to turn tail, if only we’d done the same…

What in Diarmid’s name did those bumbling Mages unleash? Thrun wondered.

Clearly nothing good.  

…our expeditionary force continued on for about two decades. We watched as the hazy ‘border’ of the Spellmarsh drew ever closer to the Keep, and engulfed once serene woodlands. By the end, we could practically see that twisted area from our walls and we heard all sorts of unholy cries at night. The Fairhaven Enlightened were growing increasingly alarmed, and became willing to take risks to stem the tide. They finally tasked us with finding what was causing the spreading, a mission that Ser Rewhort had wanted to undertake since I first joined. ‘Better late than never’ were his words, and so Ser Rewhort, myself, and six others ventured deep into the Spellmarsh. It was the farthest expedition our order had ever conducted. At least it was supposed to be.

Our compasses broke down after the third day. Due to that blasted phenomenon, we then had to navigate based on landmarks and maps created prior to the Spellmarsh’s existence. We followed the maps for the next couple of weeks, though the hazy forest made it nigh on impossible to know we were going the right way. Our progress was further hindered by frequent attacks from small bands of shrieking, grotesque beasts. Suffice to say they had varied forms, but all were clearly unnatural, and were roughly dog-sized. Their numbers only grew the deeper we went. All these frequent skirmishes increased the rapid pace at which we had been burning through our provisions, and we soon ran low on food and water.

The final straw was when the haze thinned and we sighted an old Qertisian outpost on the coast. From our vantage in the woods, we could hear the tumultuous shrieking emanating from the ruins. Ser Rewhort made the call to turn back for the Keep rather than risk fighting whatever horde had taken up residence there.

Our return journey was smoother, for we barely encountered any of the shrieking denizens we had grown so familiar with. When we were supposedly two days from the Keep however, we heard a great many shrieks in the distance and the mist thinned—the telltale signs of a storm from the heart of the Spellmarsh. Fearing the impending hordes, we frantically searched for shelter.

Ser Rewhort spotted a cave in a hillock and we followed his lead. I was taking up the rear since I was one of the better fighters. Rewhort scouted it out and gave the okay. The rest of the expedition filed into the cave and set down their packs. Right when I was crossing the threshold, all hell broke loose.

First the rear wall of the cavern exploded into stone shards. Out of the hole pounced a bear-sized creature. By Buain, it was the most hideous thing I’d laid eyes on, even after seeing decades of mutated animals. Black tentacles covered its back and hundreds of pustules laced its bulbous underbelly. It had a scaly hide and bore an indescribable stench. Before any of us even realized what was happening, the monster wound its tentacles around Ser Rewhort and drenched him in a white liquid shot from the pustules. He broke free from the beast’s clutches and hacked and slashed away, though his maille and hands were steaming. The rest of the company then joined in on attacking on the creature. Together they were able to defeat the beast; meanwhile, I kept watch at the mouth of the cave. Notwithstanding the apparent victory, Ser Rewhort’s screams replaced those of the dying mutant.

A backward glance revealed that Ser Rewhort was frothing at the mouth, and that black splotches coated the exposed skin of his face and neck. The other paladins prayed desperately to Buain to save Ser Rewhort, nevertheless the black growths continued to grow. They joined and formed an inky film over Ser Rewhort’s entire face. He clawed frantically at the insidious coating, but to no avail. Stalks sprouted from the covering and formed small tentacles on the paladin’s face. Ser Rewhort opened his mouth to scream. Instead he only managed to gurgle as the film flowed down his throat. I was stunned. How could Buain allow that to happen? Why didn’t he save Ser Rewhort…

How foul, Thrun spat in disgust. And, might I add, this is further proof of the gods’ selfish ways. Undoubtedly Buain could have intervened to save that man. 

Admittedly troubling, Irobu granted and read Ser Griffiths’ conclusion.

…another explosion then boomed from within as the walls near the mouth of the cave shattered. Out poured more of the horrifying creatures. They just kept coming. In the blink of an eye, the horrors grappled the six knights that had helped Ser Rewhort. The beasts had their backs to me, though I did nothing. It felt like a nightmare. I was overwhelmed. In all my years under Ser Rewhort I’d never seen such a hopeless situation. Practically filling the cave entirely with their sickening bodies, there were two beasts for every paladin, and each one was clearly bigger and stronger than any of us.

I kept hoping I’d wake up. But I never did. I watched as they doused the struggling paladins in the same milky fluid. Screams reverberated through the chamber as the men fought for their lives. I still stood petrified. Petrified as I heard my comrades die agonizing deaths and get turned into monstrosities before my eyes. I finally worked up the nerve to act, but I took the action of a coward—I fled the terrible cavern and left my friends and comrades behind. I told myself it was to get help, all the same I knew they were lost and that that was a poor excuse. I had betrayed all I stood for because I was afraid. I was afraid of turning into one of those beasts and shocked that Buain allowed such a gruesome fate for Ser Rewhort and the others…

So that’s what the knight kept trying to get off his chest, Irobu hypothesized.

Perhaps. Either way, that will suffice; we have gleaned a substantial amount of information about the Spellmarsh thanks to my wise suggestion. Now what could that milky fluid have been? Surely not… Thrun started to theorize. Resultantly, Irobu tuned him out and opened up Swift’s interview. 

I see why the knight wasn’t fond of spell casters at least; let’s see the source of Swift’s bias, Irobu thought to herself as she pored over Swift’s meeting with Master Palus.  

…Swift is a name I chose for myself, for I was never given one—or not one that I heard at least. I never met my parents or family…

So she chose that lovely name for herself. Irobu then tried to imagine what it would be like not to have a family, but couldn’t, and thus read further.

…my earliest memory is of watching the swifts from the small room I was held in by the Mages of Qert. The room had a window, through which I could catch a glimpse of the forest beyond the walls. Oh, how I longed to be them: able to go anywhere they wished unimpeded, able to flying for days on end, able to feel the warmth of the sun and to feel the wind flowing past. Truly being free. But the mages from Qert wouldn’t have any of that. They would barely speak to me, let alone contemplate my release. I was too rare a ‘specimen’. So, they kept me locked in my prison within their doomed colony. I would be let out for lessons and their experiments.

They would implant me with various stones. Some of them stung and burned. Others just made me feel sick. Once the wounds had closed, the mages made me drink awful elixirs. I had tried to escape several times, although their cronies always found me. For other experiments, they would lead me down into the depths of their fortress, heavily guarded all the while. The mages learned their lesson I suppose. They left me in a sealed chamber with a scroll. I had to read the runes on the page, which was the one subject covered by the Mages’ lessons. Once I finished, my head would throb and things would happen. Lights or small animals would appear. My skin might become discolored, and sometimes I grew several inches. One of the worst elixirs and scroll combinations caused lightning to shoot from my hands. I nearly passed out. The mages always made me explain in great detail what had happened prior to banishing me back to my room…

And there it is. Experimenting on children—truly vile. No wonder she despises magic with all she’s been through. Anyone would—Sanusite or savage. But how did she end up here? Irobu pondered.

…many summers went by while I languished in their colony. My final night there could not come soon enough. When it did, I woke to the smell of smoke and anguished cries. Explosions rocked the fortress as I ran to my window. Far below, the grounds were aflame and otherworldly monstrosities fought the mages and their cronies. All restraint was gone; the Qertisians desperately flung spell after spell. I knew this would be my only chance to escape, since I had never seen the mages terrified. My door had somehow been unlocked in the chaos. Had one of the mages let me go, or was it an accident from a spell? I’ll never know.

Either way, I seized the chance. I bolted out of my room and down the familiar staircase, while ignoring the pandemonium around me. Nothing seemed to notice me during my frantic flight. I quickly made it to the foyer, which was littered with the charred remains of man and otherworldly beast. The giant main door had been blown off its hinges. Luckily, I was able to slip out of the fortress without encountering whatever creature had performed that terrifying feat of strength. Staying low and navigating around the bodies, I sprinted towards the forest. The ground started shaking and I was barely able to keep my footing. Against all odds, I made it. Looking back, I saw the mages’ fortress tumbling down, bathed in an orange glow. I was free at last.

I stuck to the woods for a great many summers, while I lived in solitude and embraced my freedom. I learned which plants were edible, and how to move silently through the forest. I trailed hunters and watched their techniques—where to aim, what clues to look for when tracking animals, and how to prepare meat. One of these hunters was particularly sharp however, and noticed me trailing him. Aslac didn’t know what to make of me at first, although he ended up teaching me a great deal once he realized I meant no harm.

I created this bow under his tutelage. His company was pleasant, but he soon went on his way, surely off to complete a hunt. Prior to leaving, he mentioned the Sodality and gave me directions to Castle Fowther, should I ever need work. It was another great many summers until the beasts from the Spellmarsh started encroaching on the patch of forest I had called home. Moreover, I desired company after my long sojourn in the wilderness. Thus, I followed Aslac’s directions and eventually arrived here in Duncaster, both to join the Sodality and to give civilization a chance. So here I am, though I already hear the call of the forest…

That explains a great deal, from her introversion to her knowledge of the Sodality’s main goal. I suppose there’s no pursuing her. Perhaps if I show her magic can be used for good, and lead an honorable life, she will approach me as she did Aslac. I can dream at least, Irobu smirked. The young Sanusite closed the golden tome, returned it to its brethren, and carried on with her routine. 

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