Savage Archanic

Flight of a jail-bird
Captain Icharus P. Wylde

One whole year is enough. Word must have gotten out about the capture of Icharus Wylde. I myself am quite surprised that there wasn’t an execution planned. I would’ve like that, in all the stories of a tyrannical king, the most exciting scenes are execution escapes, but just a normal bust should be just fine, and keep a low enough profile on me to get out of the kings city and back down to riddlesworth without any real issues. My cell mate is quite an interesting lad. A young half-orc by the name of Brunt put away for life for theft. It’s an extreme punishment for such a petty crime, but that’s the big reason why I’d be happy to bust him out with me! My plan is simple… well, alright, my plan was long and complicated and had a very small margin for success, but luckily for me Brunt ain’t as dumb as all the halfers are made out to be! So, as I was saying, our plan is quite simple. First, when the warden comes by to bring us the evening meal, after he’s put it in, I’ll begin to pummel Brunt with the tray to get him to come in and break us up. That’s our cue to bounce. We’ll rough up the warden and I’ll switch uniforms with him so it doesn’t look too suspicious when I’m escorting brunt to the wardens office. Once we’re there we’ll grab the keys to the equipment room to retrieve our belongings. Getting out from there is the exciting part!

Brunt says he knew a lad who used to clean the prison cells and walks, but on occasions they would have him sweep out the storage spaces and one day he happened upon an old escape route that was dug out by someone before us! It goes straight down and out into the cities sewer system. Not my most ideal location for a getaway but it’ll have to do! apparently theres a barrel bolted to the floor and that’s our key out. but… here’s where my plan takes over! once we’ve found the barrel, I’ll send Brunt ahead to scout it out and make sure it’s all still accessible and I’ll get the attention of a couple guards. Once they’ve seen me, I’ll announce my self and disappear into the cell and down the barrel! from there we’ll find our way through the tunnel into the sewers… It shouldn’t be too hard, just follow the smell. Once we’ve gotten through the sewers, we’ll wait for the cover of night to arrange with traders to move us out via wagon. Once I’m out of the city, I’ll be moving on foot. Much slower, but it’s safer, and there’s no chance of being double crossed!

The trip has been long… to say the least. Brunt and I have stopped for the night in hawthorne town, and this is also where we split paths. He has his family to find… and oddly enough, so do I! Just being back here brings back memories, but I have no time to stay. The only town I know that I can stay in without risk of being turned in is Port Riddlesworth, and I know I’ll never make it through the fortune swamps on my own, so I’ll take a boat around them and straight to Cotton mouth docks… My old house should still be up, My pa built it, and never sold it, so it may not be the prettiest place, but it’ll be home for a while! I found wanted posters of me on a bulletin luckily for me, my hair has grown out since they saw me last…I almost look like my old self again! But I took one, and i’ve sent it to cecily with a simple note. “Fancy a drink? I’ll buy first round at the Adders hide in Riddlesworth.” I’ve left it unsigned, she should know… but now is not the time for getting distracted. I have the final stretch of my break out and this birds wings need a rest if he’s going to fly again before the sun is up!

Now that the king is dead, long live the king
Icharus Wylde

I never thought it would come to this. I always thought… No, I knew, I would be the one to show the damned crew of my old ship that anyone of the Wylde tribe was a damned force to be reckoned with, but it turns out it was the brutal force of mother nature, or the ristopians, or the imperial navy, whichever of the three, it sure as hell weren’t me. I have nothing more to live for, my one goal ripped straight from my hands, like I ripped my father from my mothers. She always said ghost will haunt you forever, and now I know that to be the truth. Both of my parents have followed me ever since I was left on the shore. Even hero’s cast a shadow. and all a shadow is, is a physical embodiment of our guilts, or secrets, fears, and everything that makes us human, or elf, ork, dwarf, ristopian… or a living being I suppose. But Recently I feel that my shadow has been made of lead. Weighing down my every movement, and t first I thought that I was just getting old, but now I know it’s one simple thing. The fact that I have been the damned pirate that I have been fighting so hard to rid the land of. and if stories have ever taught me anything, it’s that Pirates can’t be hero’s. I need to be brought to my own damned justice, whether it be a jail sentence, or even better, a one way ticket to a chopping block. That’d be my only sure way to rid me of my lead shadow. I can’t just disappear like that however… i have commitments, and people who look for me. people who like me and look up to me, see me as a hero… So here we go, I’ll have to write to Cecily and then leave it to the fates.

“Dearest Cecily**

I’m going to turn myself in. I have no reason to continue my futile escape from Westrin. I am not taking Ox with me, so I’m going to leave him with you, as well as all of my valuable items. Going to ristope to recover my old ship would only make things worse for me. My one only chance to rid my conscience of all of my short comings is the longest sentence possible. King Westrins Jail will hopefully set this old pirate out of his ways. When it comes to feeding ox however, red meet only. He doesn’t like anything else. but of course you already knew that. will you forgive me for leaving you without actually saying good-bye? i can’t believe it has to end at this bring my coat to Riddlesworth and put it on the grave of my father. It was his coat anyway. It’s in the third tear of graves, marked with a naval hero’s medal. but I want you to take the rings, and put them with my mother. She’s in a grave marked with two black angels. That’s all I ask, and that you don’t come and try to break me out. Even though we’ve only traveled together for a year, I feel like I know you better than I knew them both. Take good care of Ox, and Victoria, and if for whatever reason my coat does not make it to my fathers grave, feel free to keep it. I never really liked the old Git in his old age anyway. I need this time, I think. There’s some people I’m hoping to see there anyway!

Love Captain Icharus P. Wylde

P.S. I don’t use a chemical to get the color of my hair! when I was born, my mother used a cantrip to alter it’s color so people wouldn’t know I was the son of a pirate."

Ballocks to it all! I’m only turning myself in to prove I can get out! I left a message just for her… I know she’s a smart lass, but I was sure to make it obvious so she doesn’t worry! A moment of weakness and a night of drinking can lead to a lot of different things… even the fall of a hero… and you know what? I may not be the people’s hero, but I sure as hell am a hero of the gutters! I stand for all those who don’t see the king as supreme, and those who feel wronged by the empire! I Am Captain Icharus Percy Wylde, and i am the king of those damned to poverty. I am the hero of the impure born, the warrior of the unjust, and the angel of the gears! Now that the old king of the bandits is dead, long live the king! Me! And, I never back out of a challenge! I have two people who have to feel the cold bite of Victoria’s silver! The Ristopians who hid, and operated inside of Hawthorn town I will have that axe! and I will put blood hunter down! Not to mention, that damned quartermaster… Stay safe Cecily… stay away from ledges, because, even though I may be a jail bird, this bird ain’t flyin’ yet!

Farewell Isle of Trull
** GM Update **

Our explorers make the decision that nothing can be recovered, and convince Fast Food to take them back. He takes them to a “camp” of Trulla, and find Big Hunt there, as well as the apparently old bull known as Run, or Good Run. They spend a full day there, experiencing the life of these seeming tame trulla, but then accomponny Big Hunt and some others on a hunt. The evening of the second day out, they come to the coast, and travel a few miles to their boat, which is slightly worse for wear, and head back to report their findings…

No guts, no glory... however alive you may be
Icharus P. Wylde

I would love to say that our journey to the trulla isle was highly uneventful, however that is not the case. Upon arrival we were met surprisingly quick by trulla forces, nothing too difficult. On the downside, I did not get any of the fighting satisfaction that I had hoped for. We stood for days on the shore, learning little by little the trulla hand speech. Though we haven’t learned enough to be fluent we know how to ask if they understand or say that I don’t, as well as other gestures. The swamps were a rather ghastly reminder of home… Though the fortune swamps weren’t nearly as dangerous as these. We discussed out intentions with an elder of their kind called “sad mother”. She knew little bits of english, and this was even more surprising that they didn’t gore us with their clubs the moment we arrived (even though one did try). We eventually came to the understanding that “fast food” of the “Big Hunt” tribe would take us to fort stalwart, even though we were warned of the inhabitants. Another tribe called the “food bellies”… I think. However Sad mother couldn’t say they’re name without making a gesture and growling a bit, so as a whole we assumed they were not open for diplomatic intervention, nor would they be willing to let us have what we came for. If I remember correctly We trudged through those swamps for the better part of two or three days, and only on one of those days did we actually get to fight! Further disappointment once we actually got to stalwart. The place was apparently swarming, it was more than a tribe according to darius. But then again he also said they were walking around with skeletons, We know the trulla are smart, but are they really intelligent enough to grasp magic? The walk back was just as eventful as the trek there… only one fight, and it was with some giant swamp bug… nothing glorious. When we return to Atavan I’ll have to pick up new flint and steel. I gave Leader big hunt mine as a gift of fire. Damn marquee couldn’t resist using his magic around them so we had to give them something to calm them down, but it didn’t do that. Well, theres no glory in the trulla isle for a hero of men anyway… I suppose we’ll be home soon, thank the fates for that.

Beloved Father

Dearest Father,
I love you. I miss you. I want you to know that none of this is your fault. It is true, if you had not succumbed to the wasting I probably would not have wound up on this path, but, we both know that things were not going well for us financially and our hands would have been forced sooner or later, and who knows where I would have wound up then. I don’t regret the things I have done, I am, in fact, rather proud of some of my accomplishments. I do regret that it doesn’t look as if I am going to be around long enough to see some of my latest ideas to fruition.
I’m stuck, Daddy, stuck in a tree, on the Trulla Island, on the outskirts of a ruined fort that is currently occupied by and aggressive tribe of Trulla… and yes, there are different types of tribes. The series of events that brought me here are a tale all in themselves, but I find I don’t have the heart to lay them out for you in any form worth hearing. I wish you were here right now. Wish you could swoop in, scoop me up and deposit me in the parlor with Momma’s afghan and a cup of hot chocolate while you dealt with the things in the world that want to hurt your Cecily dearest.
I’m scared. I think that if we continue forward I am not going to make it off this island alive. I don’t know how to convince Icarus and the others that it is really a bad idea and if we try to get into the remains of Fort Stalwart we are all going to die horrible deaths at the hands of those trulla down there.
Come get me, please. I promise I will be nice to the young men who come calling, clean the grease out from under my nails and let Mrs Carverson dress my hair.

Your devoted daughter,

In the Trull Jungles
** GM Update **

After “speaking” with Sad Mother, who speaks some english, they are following Fast Food to go to Stalwart that is infested or owned or hunted by the Food Bellies. They spend a night in the marshy jungles, where everyone but Captain Wylde sleep in a tree. The next night they encounter a herd of something related to cattle…and a slow moving stampede that leaves mud and uprooted trees in its wake.

The next evening, they arrive at somesort of Trulla Camp, and Fast Food will not aproach it.

Into the throat of Trull
** GM Update **

Leaving Hawthorne Towne, they travel along the road, aiming to WindHill Bay, a small but busy privateer harbor, hoping to buy passage there. Unfortuneatly, they encounter a furious storm…but from it they claim a derilict fishing boat.

A few days later, they arrive at one of the Trull islands, and some unsettling events occur…

Darious L'meaux

I don’t understand what just happened; we were riding on the Cog Train when it crashed, when I poked my head out to see what had happened, I was shot, twice! It was the red hats; they toppled the train and shot me, time for action. After biting away the pain I dropped to the ground and leveled my rifle and took out one of the red hat wearing bastards, then dropping the now empty rifle, I took out my bow and
killed another, one after another they fell, until all were dead or downed. We searched the people for survivors and found 3, then the marquis took the 2 elves to go talk about something, and the without reason he just, let them go. LET THEM GO!?! These people just tried to kill us and they ruined Imperial property, these Idiots at least need jail time, and that pompous idiot sent them on their way. If it were not for Roman being against killing them as well only the human would have walked away from there. After we checked for innocent survivors, we found a worker who had a broken leg; he assisted us toward Hawthorn Town. That night I couldn’t sleep, I reveled in that hate all night; I haven’t felt such loathing since I got my team killed. I don’t trust that marquis and I think he may have an agenda that conflicts with my own…


Eight hours into our trip the cograil comes to a screeching, sudden, horrible halt. The noise is deafening, we are thrown around in the end car as we crash and tip, coming to rest at an angle that is not natural for this beast of a machine at all. As my companions scramble to get out of the tilted car, I a stunned and can’t seem to get any of my limbs working… until people start getting shot around me. Under attack by elves wearing ridiculous red hats I stay hunkered down until all the bravos have exited and headed into the fray. With a sinking feeling in my stomach I head towards the front of the cograil hoping to see what has become of the engine and my M.U.L.E. Through the intervening cars I scramble and crawl coming out onto the tipped coal car to see my lovely perpetual motion carrier on its side in the tall grass beside the track. The engine itself is a total loss to us, on its side and where it will stay until workers can get a crane out here to lift it back upright. The fight is over faster than one would think it could be, with several of the Red Hats being taken captive.

I have to admit at this point that I did not take part in much of anything that went on, being too wrapped up in dealing with the righting and repairing of the M.U.L.E. to really notice. However. When I do join the world and the gentlemen again, and I use that term lightly, the tension in the air is palpable. I still am not certain what went down between them all, but the captives were set free without weaponry and the M.U.L.E. was loaded with the our and the other passenger’s kit, along with the coal man who’s leg was badly broken, all under a pall of what, I’m not certain, but it wasn’t happy fuzzy camaraderie.

What is it about men that they must keep secrets? Why must they posture and push to be at the fore, be percieved as the smartest, the most clever, most handsome, most desirable, biggest muscles, biggest… well… you know. I do not comprehend the opposite sex, yet I am surrounded by them. Even the dog is male. How did I manage that? How am I going to keep them from back biting and undermining each other to the point of our little group’s failure?

It took two days to walk to Hawthorne Town along the cograil. I spent much of those two days furious, frustrated and even a little frightened. Thinking on the men around me, looking back on observations made previously, tallying up little comments and even body language I came to the conclusion that I will probably never understand the opposite sex. I do think I might have some insight into the men around me, for instance, Icharus who is a simply beautiful man, charming, gregarious, funny, is full of deep seated anger that drives him to many rash choices, although they often seem to turn out for the best I cannot believe such wanton chance taking can be good for his health, or mine for that matter. Ed… now Ed, is highly intelligent, witty, even charming when he chooses to be so. What drives him eludes me. I know there is something that IS, in fact, driving him…. but what, is a mystery. I can conclude that whatever it is serves the Marquis purpose and only the Marquis purpose. He will bear watching. If I am going to be complicit in his schemes I need to make sure my eyes are open and I am agreeing with that I am encouraging. Roman is easy. He is driven to right the wrongs of the world. He spent his life on the wrong end of it all and he is determined to make a difference. I trust Roman more than I trust any of them. His motivations and drivers are right out there in the open for everyone to see. Darius on the other hand is an enigma. He goes toe to toe with Icharus, questions Ed constantly and has strong fundamental beliefs, however, he keeps those close to his chest. I like the fact that he had been a scout… I like that he is open about the disaster that caused him to resign… I honestly hope he finds the redemption that he so obviously seeks… however… until I know more of his inner workings I will keep my eye on him as well.

So. Walking two days to Hawthorne Town with a group of cantankerous men who make no sense to me was harder than those days spent in the Savage Lands hurt, tired, dirty, hauling all my supplies on my back. I don’t much desire to repeat either experience any time soon. Men.

End of a Legacy
Captain Icharus

Wow… Did you just see that mates? what? no, a dragon! just over the mountain ridge! Wow, I can’t even… What? what the hell is a drake! whatever, dragon or drake, it’s still amazing! It reminds me of a story my father used to tell me when I was a wee scamp. It started with a knight of old legends, who had lost everything. His wife died of plague, his son was taken by the evil lord and his land was burned. The only thing he had left was his armor, his steed, and his sword. He sought the destruction of the lord, but his fortress was impenetrable. So he went to the towns see, trying to find a force to follow him into battle, but no-one else had the courage to stand up to the tyrant. So what did he do? he traveled out to the mountains, to seek council from the hermits, and when he found them, the didn’t say anything to him, all they did was motion from the clouds to the mountain, then they would bow towards the fort. The knight traveled for years trying to interpret what they were saying. His travels brought him through great caves, corrupt towns and ancient ruins. The Lord heard about what the knight was planning to do, and put a price on his head. So, he rode into town one day, and when people saw who he was, they raised their pitchforks and axes, they yelled in anger and greed, and they attacked the lone knight, wanting the reward from his bounty. Not wanting to harm innocents, he abandoned his steed and ran from the town. He ran for a day, maybe even more, and when he came to rest on the river side, he looked at his aging reflection. He washed his face and stared deeply into the sky through the reflections. He heard a noise, and looked around, seeing nothing he went to rinse his face once more, but as he looked down a shadowed figure flew along the length of the river. He stood and brandished his sword as the giant winged beast circled him. He finally realized what the hermits were saying. He pointed his sword to the dragon just as they had done to the sky. the Two fought for hours, and just as the knight thought that fate had finally decided it was his time to fall, his blade struck home, driving deep under the scales, just as the hermits had done towards the mountain. However he knew he would never bow before the lord. Then he had another idea. He returned to the fortress and turned himself in. He was brought straight to the lord to be executed. Thinking it would be amusing, the evil lord decided to have the knight and his steward fight to the death. Assured in his victory, the knight slew the young man, When he removed his helmet, he realized who he had just killed. He knelt down taking his son in his arms, and put his head to the ground, just as the hermits had done towards the fort.It was just then that fate struck him. the lord, laughing at his plan, was too occupied to see the knight as he drove his sword through his heart. I’ll warn you now mates,if you hadn’t guessed, this story doesn’t end well. There, in the throne room of the evil lords fort, the lone knight stood, his son dead, and his one true enemy dying on his sword. Skilled warrior as he was, he was unarmed, and feeling the release of fate, it wasn’t long after that, with the late lords guard’s help, he felt the sweet release of death. That’s how I want to go out. a mighty death, putting all of your life troubles to rest by the blade, and die with no more worldly weights on my shoulders… Hell I wouldn’t mind killing a dragon… that’s the kind of thing people sing about right? isn’t that what makes a hero?


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