Chapter 2: Nakata’s Quest – part 1
It had been weeks since I left to avenge Vigo, instead of feeling satisfied, all I had was mourning. Ithela had fallen during our quest, the wounds she sustained from the unnatural beast had been too much for her and she died on the way back home.
I had taken to sitting outside our dome hut and would stare into the distance for long stretches. Our small reserve of money was used up, and I barely had the motivation to go hunting, except that starvation wasn’t the way I wanted to go. If I said that thoughts about just giving up didn’t enter my head, It would be a fucking lie.
One morning, as I stared into the mist laden forest of pines, a voice hailed me from behind. “You alright there, lass?”
I turned to see who it was with a disinterested pall. Nakata, once a mighty, feared and famous warrior made his way, at a snail’s pace, to my redoubt. The scratch, scritch, scratch of his walking stick clearly audible now that my consciousness was in the present moment. “No, I am nowhere near alright”, I flatly replied and renewed my depressed vigil.
“Well,” he said as he took an uninvited seat next to me. “I think I might have just the thing for you to take your mind off these past few unfortunate events hey?” His voice was all reassurance and friendliness. What the fuck did he think he was to me anyway?
“mmmmph”, was all I managed to grunt back at him.
“You see, I’ve been having this little problem. Well, this little, let’s call it unfinished business, that I have been meaning to attend to but…” his voice trailed off as his stump of a leg dangled out in front of me like a pauper’s bowel.
“What kind of strange adventure did you not finish up before Mad Madritch took off your leg?” I shouldn’t have encouraged him.
“well you see… when I was fully able-bodied. Hm, when I was capable, that is, I had the intention of looking into an old legend I had heard about. The old King Lothgar, one of the first kings in these here Ironlands, he pushed into the Deep Wilds and tried to wipe out the elves. We had just about pushed mystic buggers out of everywhere else and this was the final campaign. It’s said that the land itself rose up and defeated that King Lothgar. He was buried there on the battlefield, along his treasures.”
“So you want me to go tomb raiding them?” I said without looking at him.
“Well, I guess that’s what it is, yeah,” he replied.
“So what’s the catch?” I asked and turned to face him for the first time. “Why offer this to me, I haven’t done anything in weeks. I can barely get myself up to hunt.”
“That’s why you’re perfect. The Deep Wilds are dangerous, the treasure may not be there and you have nothing left to lose.” His tone suggested he thought he was being encouraging. It wasn’t at all. It only reminded me of why I had spent most of my mornings, afternoons and evenings either on this bench or staring out at the sparse forest below. He had a point though, without my mother, Ithela, or brother, Vigo, left, I didn’t really have that much to keep me here.
“Fine, I’ll do it. Something dangerous should take my mind off of things, I suppose.” I stood up and made my way back into our, well my, hut. It still lay where I’d thrown it down previously. I grasped my sword and knelt before Nakata. The tip of the sword lodged slightly in the ground, “Nakata, I swear on this iron that I will complete your request and travel to Lothgar’s Rest.” I pushed down on the sword to draw myself up from the ground. “Is there anything I need to know, anything you want to tell me before I set off?” I asked. Nakata furnished me with a rolled up map and gave me some small pieces of advice before he took his scratch, scritch, scratching back towards the circle center.
So it looks like I was on another adventure, this time totally alone. My gear was still light and I needed to go and ask some favours for adventuring gear and food. There was no point embarking on a journey all the way to the Deep Wilds without being properly prepared. Those that made the journey fully laden often didn’t make it back, which had little to do with the supplies.
I left Mournhill four mornings hence and made my way towards the south. Ever did the slopes of the Hinterlands aim downwards towards the lower lands of the deep wilds. It was but a day before the dark green pines began to make way for wide leafed evergreens. As I marched down and out of the Hinterlands I wiped sweat from my brow. My heavy cloak was too much and needed to be packed away. The jungle opened up before me in an endless, seemingly impenetrable expanse of green.
Moving at speed to lose myself in the jungle, I found a lake. Despite the heavy cloak now being used as a glorified food wrap my pack was getting awfully light. This wide lake looked to be as good a place as any to camp and hunt. By those banks I spent three days. Perhaps it was getting back into hunting, using my skills I had so long honed. Or perhaps leaving Mournhill and all the reminders of my family that lingered there helped. Regardless, the spring in my step as I set traps and climbed moss covered trees in search of eggs made me feel like a wet pig skin was being lifted from my shoulders. At night though, by the fire, next to the still lake, I could see my mother in the stars and feel my brother in the cold,iron necklace around my neck. The river probably had a name, some elvish word that was too hard to pronounce, but I gave it my own name: Ithela’s Rest.
Leaving the lake behind I began to veer more southwards, into the heart of the Deep Wilds. Another two days of traveling passed by without issue. Birds chirped away in song as I focused on the paths ahead. I should have known something was amiss. Birds were the only animal I heard. There were some old tracks here and there of animals but birds were the only sign on any animal present recently. I knelt gently by a shallow stream and took a sip of water out of cupped hands. The water tasted fresh, it wasn’t ice cold like most of the water up north in the mountains. With my eyes closed briefly, I concentrated on the refreshing water flowing through my body. The aching feet, the click in my knee and the tension in my shoulders. When I opened them, there they stood. “Fuck!” was the first thing that sprung to mind.
One stepped forward. He wore a dark leather shirt and leather shorts. They were decorated with yellow and blue feathers and stones, stitched and woven into the leather in a colourful display. Their weapons were not made of iron like ours, but of some kind of turquoise looking material. He pointed it at me threateningly. He was too far away for me to charge him. And any thoughts of some kind of rash escape quickly disappeared as more elves appeared from the jungle. Ten to one, let’s see if the stories of the elves murderous inclination towards humans holds up.
“You are trespassing here. Why have you come to our lands? You must come with us to our village.” He demanded, his tone flat and his words flowed out of rhythm.
I choked back my first instinct to retort, it would have led to a swift death at the ends of those brilliant blades which surrounded me. “I seek an ancient tomb, of an old human king. I seek relics…” What the hell was I getting at? “Um, I seek to take the relics of this human king out of the elven lands. They are said to be poison to your kind. I wish to get them away from here.” Vigo had the silver tongue and an excuse for everything. I generally just killed things. What kind of bullshit came out my mouth?
“Where is this tomb you seek?” A female elf stepped forward suddenly.
I held up one hand in what I hoped was a disarming gesture. With the other, I slid my bag off my back and retrieved the poorly drawn map Nakata gave me. The women, also adorned like the man but with orange and purple, snatched the parchment from me and huddled in close with two of her kind. They began to speak in elvish, at least I assumed that is what it was.
Their eyes looked sharply at one another. Fingers jabbed sharply at the flimsy piece of parchment and each time I was sure it would pierce through. I needed that. Though it wouldn’t be much good to me dead.
After minutes of muffled debate she stepped forward, “What do you know of this place? What do you know of its history?” She said as she stood there with my map in her outstretched hand.
“I know that some king lies there. That he was one of the first to arrive here in the Ironlands.” I said.
“Very well, you may travel through our forests to this place. You may take the relics of this king with you and then you may leave immediately.” Her voice was even and steady, like a warden giving prisoners orders.
“Of course, these are your lands. Um, Could you give me any tips? Maybe some insider information on the place?” I decided to push my luck a little. Their enthusiasm to have me go here showed me that maybe they were getting something out of this as well.
The man took to the side of the women. “There is a horror which lurks in the lake at the base of the waterfall. It has taken many elvish lives. Kill it, and you can enter through the waterfall to the tomb.” He shuffled slightly as he spoke and didn’t meet my eyes with his. There was some history between this horror and elf, I didn’t doubt it.
The two turned and walked away from me into the dense jungle. The others, arrayed as they were in a circle, flowed into file behind them. As they stepped into the undergrowth, the bright adornments of their clothing changed colour into a perfect mimicry of the browns and greens of the trees. It was my first sight of the magic of the elves. It wouldn’t be the last.
With this extra information at hand departed, swiftly. I wanted to make as much distance between me and those elves as I could. Most travelers to the Wild Lands never returned. Stories of those captured filtered to the outside realms and never involved a happy ending.Though I left the snow behind in the mountains, it was replaced by another constant: rain. The sound of falling rain on broad leaves was much more welcoming than frigid winds whistling through the valleys. It was a nice change to not fall asleep listening to the rattle of your own teeth. As I arrive at a giant tree I look into my supply bag, low. Perhaps I could take a day or two off this pace to hunt. What good is a tomb robber and horror slayer who is mad from hunger?
RPG Downtime 