Purgatory is not as uncomfortable as many are lead to believe. But it is a mind and soul robber. Only the body is nourished; the mind is left to contemplation and dark imaginings. At least in my case this was true. Perhaps others found salvation through meditation and were allowed passage through the higher gates. I instead chose the other route out of there. -Collected Sayings of Saint Heron
[p]Day 1
[p]Heron's first recollections that were truly her own were of sand and wind. She stood before a towering brick structure whose entryway glistened of blue portal magic. She turned and perused her surroundings. From the west came the wind, with a hint of salt and the call of seagulls. To the east she saw two small tents, their canvas doors flapping lazily in the breeze. Half way between the tents and the structure before her was a glowing blue stone that one of her previous memories identified as a lifestone.
[p]There was no one else there. A lonely place indeed, fittingly so. Perhaps, thankfully so. Heron stretched and tested this new body. It was weak, so different from her last. But it had potential, with an agility she had never known before. She searched the small backpack and found a crude nabut, food, a few coins, and a small bag of magical compounds.
[p]"You must stay aware at all times in this world, Heron. It is a harsh and often barbaric world you enter. Many there will slay you without announcing their presence, and laugh if you were to plead for mercy. Your mission is not to save them, for their fate is already decided. It is to nurture the weak of body, but strong of mind."
[p]The words of Purgatory's Gatekeeper rung in her head. Scanning her surroundings again, she pulled the backpack to her shoulder and trudged off to a more secluded place. The sea beckoned, so it was westward she went. Small packs of drudges and shreth gave her a chance to test out her fighting abilities. Ah, how she longed for a heavier, more balanced nabut, and something more protective than the brown linen clothes she now wore. Rummaging through the corpses of the shreth and drudges she found a few coins and more components, but she doubted that it would be enough to trade for leather.
[p]Heron found a small ruin upon one of the many plateaus. She climbed the stairs and entered the portal. She felt the portal's magic examine her, and realized that it was ensuring that she was not strong before allowing her to enter. A place of sanctuary for the weak, she thought. A good place to stay until she became stronger.
[p]The entry-hall, though old and dusty, was pleasant to sit in. She ventured into the hallway only to be ambushed by several drudges who had apparently found this place to be cozy as well. There were too many of them, and she died, resurrecting on the same stone she had stood upon first entering this world. She thought to touch upon the lifestone that she had forgotten, but upon scanning realized there were a few people there now. It was probably a mercy that she had forgotten it. She sprinted away before they noticed her.
[p]Before entering the ruin again, she tended her wounds, and looked through the magical components. She was able to create a feeble protection spell, and a couple of other spells. She lacked several key components to some of the more useful spells. Although still a little weak from the death, she reentered. She lured the drudges into the entryway one by one, until she was able to recover the items on her corpse. She ventured down the stairs a ways, but was ambushed yet again by many of the pale-skinned creatures. She barely made it outside the ruin with her life. The creatures did not follow her, which was a mercy also.
[p]For several hours she tried valiantly to clear her new home of the drudges, but there seemed to be an endless supply of them. Tired, but stronger, she decided to sleep in the entryway.
[p]Day 2
[p]What honor is there in calling upon the sleep that grants immunity? But then, what honor is there in foolishly dying to the hands of foes twice, thrice, or even more times your abilities? You lose hard earned, necessary items, and you strengthen those you oppose. Why reward evil in some misguided, egotistical ideal? I am honorable in my own mind, I care not what others think. -Collected Sayings of Saint Heron
[p]Heron awoke feeling fresh and a bit feisty. Stretching, she smiled at the coloring the stained glass windows in the roof of the catacombs gave the swirls of air-borne dust. Pulling out her small wand, she cast a quick protection spell, then pulled out the practice nabut she had grown to hate.
[p]Drudge after drudge she lured into the entryway and killed. Between the lack of any armor and the hated nabut, she could not take more than two at a time. In frustration she tossed the nabut into one of the corners of the room and sat down to fume. She thought of the tents she had seen when she first entered this world, and looked through her backpack at the items she had collected from the drudges. She probably had enough goods to trade. She knew she was still too weak to fight anyone, but dammit! She wanted some armor and a better stick!
[p]She picked up the nabut and left the catacomb, sprinting back to the outpost. As she climbed the last steep slope before reaching town, she sensed the presence of two others there, who immediately turned and started running towards her. Fighting back the urge to run, she went into a fighting stance, stood her ground and yelled out a "hail".
[p]The people said nothing. The first to reach her pulled out a knife and started attacking her. Knowing the futileness of it, she still answered back with a few blows of her own before dying.
[p]"I barely even scratched him," she thought to herself.
[p]She approached the spot of her death slowly, scanning the surroundings for signs of her attackers. Her body was empty of anything she had lost, as she had suspected. Nearly 200p! Gone in 3 slashes of a knife, for what? Her pride and arrogance in thinking to attempt even this tiny outpost for trade!
[p]She heard the death-screams of her attackers just as she started to head back to the catacomb. She waited but a few moments, curious as to what had happened.
[p]"WTF was that?? I died!"
[p]"I died also!"
[p]From their garbled, barely English exchange, she found out that an unseen force had violently pushed them off of the same cliff that they had killed her on.
[p]"Justice," she said out loud, smiling. She did not even care if they heard her or not. Apparently the tents would not be obtained today, but it did not mean she couldn't do some adventuring elsewhere. She was feeling much better about her first murder-death, and decided to follow the road south, albeit several hundred yards west of it.
[p]She came across another small sanctuary for the weak. Much smaller than the catacombs, she was able to explore the entirety of the building. It was empty but for some rats.
[p]Upon exiting, she saw a group of buildings in the distance. The dream of armor and a new nabut slowly pulled her towards the buildings despite her misgivings. A sign announced "Welcome to Yaraq", but there was no one there but the town crier and lonely merchants.
[p]She quickly located the armorer and bartered an exchange for a new nabut. She had just completed the exchange for some studded leather leggings when she heard dreaded war-spell incantations right behind her.
[p]"Fool, fool, and thrice a fool!", she cursed herself even as the lightning bolt hit her square in the back. She ran around the building, lighting streaks just missing her as she dodged and ran. She circled the building once with her attacker on her heals, and then she remembered the Rat's Nest just outside of town. If only she could make it there...
[p]Lightning enveloped her, its blue liquid fire still crackling around her when she hit her entry-stone. She had dropped the leggings in death, but had thankfully kept the new nabut. She made a beeline for the town, again in a misguided hope that the leggings would still be there. They weren't, but the town was empty yet again.
[p]Again she bartered for some leggings, but it took nearly all of the items she had collected to do so. She sensed the presence of another just as she finished, and fearing the same ending as the last trip, she sprinted towards the nest. The person followed her, but did not attack her. Just at the entry-portal she turned and faced her opponent. She could not assess him, just as she had failed to assess any other person she had come across. It was not the same person who had shot her in the back, at least.
[p]"Peace," she ventured, as he did not immediately attack her.
[p]"Peace," he responded, even as he spoke dreaded war-spell words of power.
[p]Heron cringed in anticipation of the pain that was about to come, but never did. Instead the bolt landed one of the drudges in a nearby pack. Wordlessly, she helped him clear the pack, and then followed him back into town where another person was waiting.
[p]A chorus of "peace's" ensued and Heron perused her nearly empty backpack. There was enough stuff remaining to buy some components, so she found the local mage and bartered for a few of each type of component that they had. She rummaged in her backpack for anything else that she could sell, and came across a lone piece of paper.
[p]"I'll give you 2 more hyssop for that paper there, Miss" said the fellow. Heron considered the offer, but instead shook her head.
[p]"Nay, I shall use it to help me remember the names of those who kill me, and those who befriend me, I think."
[p]The old mage laughed. "That one sheet of paper will probably do you well for your list of friends in this forsaken land..." the old man said as he turned and pulled a dusty book from one of his shelves. He hefted the weight of it before tossing it up on the counter between them. "But I think you will need this if you truly want to list those who will murder you."
[p]She stared at the man. He was serious. She thanked him and left, not wanting to tempt her luck in town any further.
[p]She strolled further south along the beach, watching the seagulls fight for the stray pieces of food the sea would cough up onto the shore. Another set of buildings held an apple farmer and his daughter, and he related the tale of how the drudges were ruining his crops. Perhaps she would help him at a later date, but for now she was enjoying the view, and journeyed on.
[p]She sensed the presence of evil even as two forms appeared at the edge of her sight. She turned and ran, but they were catching up to her at an incredible rate. Resigned, she stopped and went into battle stance. Two spell blasts later she was at her now familiar entry-stone.
[p]She did not bother to go find her body. Instead she thought to warn the one person she had met who had not attacked her. But he wasn't there. Apparently he had chosen the sleep that grants immunity.
[p]Tired and weak from the deaths, she hobbled back to her catacombs. Instead of fighting the drudges she sat and tried to recall all of the day's events. What could she have done better? She had lost 2 pairs of leather leggings that she desperately needed, and some unknown amount of pyreals.
[p]The first death was inevitable. The second was from standing in town without paying attention. That lesson she had learned, and would not repeat. The third death...
[p]She could have forced herself to sleep before they reached her. The thought had occurred to her, but in the split second of decision, she opted to die as a woman, not as a coward. For this reason she now would fight drudges with only the linen clothes she entered the world in. The debate raged in her head for nearly an hour before she came to a decision. If someone runs towards her, obviously intent on killing her without even a hail, she would sleep. The strategy was still up for debate, perhaps when she was stronger, and pyreals not so dear, she would change that decision, but for now her survival depended upon the few items she found. And she hated giving them the satisfaction.
[p]Taking out the sheet of paper she neatly drew a line down the center and entered the names of those she had met that day. Enemies-5, Non-enemies-1. Perhaps the mage was right about the book.
[p]Dreams of revenge came easily as she embraced the sleep she had rejected earlier.