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Gregor

Besides that, Gregor made camp most of his nights with Sara, Lytan, and Myrissa, and kept watch with Khorasan, the stubborn old elf refusing to give up teaching him. But without much hope of ever wielding magic, Gregor had gotten to talking with the elven mage, and even tried to teach Lytan the sword. The motherly orca from the Golden Goose who always seemed to be hanging about their tent, chewing out his ears the first night, the boy had woken up with bruises. But despite that Lytan was still eager to learn, if only the boy would pay attention to his footing, but as often as not he would stumble around wildly swinging his shortsword, until Gregor laid him out flat on his back, under the ever-watchful eyes of Sara.

It took Gregor a couple of days to realize the boy would never be more than adequate with a sword, so he had tried to teach him to use the crossbow instead, and was pleasantly surprised by his accuracy. As for Sara, she not only proved to be an apt study with the dagger, she had the quick, agile fingers that would have made her the perfect pickpocket.

(Teach Sara how to pickpocket.)

Taking her aside one night to gaze up into the stars, Gregor watched the stillness. The distant hills, silhouetted by ancient battlements long destroyed in some long-ago war, when finally he spoke, "there will come a time, when you will be on your own with no one to protect you. If you wish it, I can teach you the skills to survive."

Wan face shadowed by the darkness, the girl looked up at him with wide brown eyes that both seemed so innocent and cold, and nodded her head, when Gregor continued. "That isn't going to be enough. You will need to speak and tell me that this is what you want. You can't ever be ruled by fear."

Skin prickled by a cool breeze that whispered through the trees, Gregor could see her body tremble as she tried to speak, her eyes filling up with unshed tears, until a single word broke the silence. "Yes."

Hand lifted to pat her on the shoulder, he turned to look back over the sprawled encampment, the torches that lit up the night sky filling the air with vibrant life, and watched the pixies flit about from one flame to another. Fate or destiny, Gregor meant for Sara to survive, and in a way hoped that Kira would see it too and be pleased with him. "Tonight I will teach you how to steal."

+1 Morale.

+20 GP.

(Take another lesson with Lytan.)

Taking Lytan aside one night to gaze up into the stars, Gregor watched the stillness. The distant hills, silhouetted by ancient battlements long destroyed, when finally he spoke, "there will come a time, when you will be on your own with no one to protect you. If you wish it, I can teach you the skills to survive."

Lean face shadowed by the darkness, Lytan asked, "you're leaving us again?"

And Gregor nodded his head. "One day soon, once this is all over, yes, I will leave you, but by then you will not need me anymore."

Tears brushed away roughly as though angry at showing any sign of weakness, Lytan folded his arms across his chest. "Good, I never wanted your help. I know how to survive on my own."

Face crinkled up into a smile, Gregor felt pride swell up inside of him, and tousled the boy's dark hair which caused an infuriated glower. "Good, but there is one last lesson I must teach you. Always in battle you will face opponents that are better than you, faster than you, or simply stronger. There will even be times when you cannot retreat. That is when you must learn to think on your feet and strike without hesitation. You cannot be afraid to hurt someone."

Blue eyes widened in surprise as it dawned on the boy that he knew, Gregor grinned down at the mudsap, a part of him surprised that it had taken him this long to realize the boy was holding back, afraid to hurt him.

Half grinning ruefully at the number of times he had beaten the boy black and blue, he finished, "never give in."

+1 Morale.

(Study magic with Khorasan.)

Unable to sleep one night, Gregor found himself in Khorasan's tent, and found the white-haired elf bent over a table examining another specimen he had collected from the forest.

Fingers delicately parting the wings of a fairy that lay on his table, the mage studied the creature with a magnifying glass that made his watery brown eyes look huge.

Not in the slightest bit concerned about his disheveled appearance for once, nor the books scattered across the rugs, the elf seemed engrossed in his subject, when Gregor coughed loudly.

Reddened face whirling around, Khorasan gaped with a worried expression, before releasing a heavy intake of breath. "Oh light, Gregor, you scared me half to death."

Lips twisted into a wry smile, Gregor replied, "that doesn't exactly explain the guilty look on your face."

Cheeks flushed an even deeper red, Khorasan straightened up, and tried to scowl with self-righteous fury, before he let out a rueful chuckle, and deflated like a blooter. "If you must know, I thought the guards had come to take away my samples. There is a ridiculous law here which prohibits anyone but warlocks and alchemists to work on experiments. Nevermind that most discoveries are not made by warlocks. Anyway, is there a reason you are lurking about camp at night?"

"I want to know what is blocking me?"

Fingers scrubbed through his snowy white beard, Khorasan paused to return the fairy into a jar filled with more of its kind, it's kin quick to dance around angrily, and shake its fists at him, when their unconscious brother woke up.

Eyes filled with amusement at their antics, the wrinkled elf smiled as he watched them. "You know, not too long ago, maybe three or four centuries, these woodland fairies were the most predominant of their species. I once thought that it was simply a matter of them evolving that caused them to lessen in number, but I was wrong."

Head turned to give Gregor a sideways glance, he continued, "it was not evolution, but a war that hurt them. The dark ones saw in the fairies an easy way to collect souls, and so harvested them for many years, culling their numbers."

Eyebrows crooked upward in confusion, Gregor wondered aloud, "what does that have to do with me?"

And as though, expecting such a question, Khorasan turned around slowly. "Only this, my friend. By culling their numbers, the woodland fairies were forced to adapt, forced to better conceal themselves in the forests and trees, much like you Gregor. The type of power you wield is like a beacon roaring in the sky unless it is quieted. Whether for good or ill, you are hidden."

Violet colored eyes flashing into the back of his mind, Gregor saw the woman again, seated across the table from him, and wondered who she was?

+1 Morale.

(As a mercenary in the hire of the Legion, you are paid 10 gold pieces each week.)

+10 GP.

When dawn finally came, Gregor was sitting alone in a grove surrounded by wild purple flowers, his mind again Kira. She would have been fifteen summers old, and yet for as far back as he could remember, she had always been the one to give him advice. The one to show him what needed to be done, but without her...the road seemed longer.

It was a sad realization that no matter how far he ran from his dreams, he could not escape memories of her.

Shoulders slumped as he sat there alone, Gregor could feel the familiar well of despair, the feeling like a cold knife in his chest, and as always he stamped it back down. He was a born warrior, and the gods be damned if he was going to sit around moping. Besides, there was still plenty of killing to be done, and if there were anything in this world that he could do, it was that.

Violet colored eyes flashing through the back of his mind, he thought he heard laughter, and wanted to snarl, before he stalked off back towards the road. Yes, killing he could do.

However by the time they reached the next town there wasn't exactly much to be done with Gregor mostly watching over the column of wagons and refugees that had grown from the hundreds to the thousands. The thick rolling swarm, a bloated behemoth that would have been impossible to defend, if not for surviving legionary forces that straggled in as word came that the 7th and 8th Legion were advancing west to meet them. The small army growing larger still, when finally they caught sight of Mulk, a large town with high stone walls.

Ranging out ahead to get a better look at the small city, Gregor stood side by side with Guiram, the elf scratching his puckered scar as he studied the empty walls, when he spat on the ground. "No smoke."

"Oh, aye, it's too blasted quiet," barked Haddwel. "I'd no doubt there be puke drinkers about, I canne smell it in the air."

Sword hilt gripped tight in his fist, Gregor looked behind him to the dust cloud, a single brigade of four hundred warriors in battle formation, marching at its head. The uneasy feeling he had gotten in his gut ever since arriving here, growing stronger, the closer they had gotten to the walls. There should have been watchers on those ramparts, smoke coming from chimneys, anything to point towards signs of life inside. But it was all too quiet. And that made him worry.

Teeth gritted in a snarl to stop himself from swearing, something he had been forced to do ever since Myrissa had beaten him with a ladle over the head, he grunted, "we should take a look around."

Guiram the leader of this squadron, spat into the grass again, and nodded his head. "Watch your feet." The elven warrior then knocked an arrow to his bow, and gracefully glided down the grassy hilltop with Gregor at his side. The rest of the squad quick to spread out on either side of them as they approached the gateway, it's brass-studded doors open wide enough that they could see no movement inside.

It was strange.

Hands moving to help widen the gap so that they could enter two at a time, Gregor stepped into desolate streets that could have held thousands of people, but instead it's paved slate grey stones were bare of life, and lined with round-shaped homes made of a light brown limestone.

Organized into different districts with inns and taverns on one side, and guilds such as alchemists, blacksmiths, and colleges on the other, each sign proclaimed their services out front. But besides the bellow-hearts that flew to rest on the rooftops, the paved streets were quiet and empty, adorned with dried blood that looked to be several days old with Selese, a half-elf leaning down to touch it to her tongue, when she twitched her nostrils in disgust. "Goblins."

Feet shifted uneasily at that, Gregor tried to imagine a goblin horde breaking through those walls, washing through these streets, and couldn't see it, no matter how many they were. Even mages had their own limits, and he feared what they may find here.

What do you do?

Choice 1. Search the inns?

Choice 2. Search the homes?

Choice 3. Search the guilds?