It had only been about half an hour before I heard the sound of footsteps. The usual commotion broke out amongst the other captives, but I just sat up and gathered my loot. The torch had made the tiny cell reasonably warm. A nice mattress and a roaring fire would’ve been better, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Expecting to see Finneus standing in the opening with dire news of my impending execution, I was shocked to find Sun brooding at me again.

“I cleaned up your mess,” I said to her.

Her eyes flicked over the dry stone. For a moment it looked like she would attack me, then the tension left her body and she suddenly sat down at the threshold, filling the doorway. A solid minute passed without word and I started to feel mighty awkward. My natural default was to catch someone looking at me and automatically look away without thinking. There was just something weird about staring, especially if it wasn’t the precursor to a violent encounter outside a pub.

“Have I got something on my face?” I asked.

She didn’t answer, so I stared back at her. Under the ink she was a very attractive woman. Heck, even with the ink she was a very attractive woman, if you went for the whole alternative, Amazonian look. I could sense a deep hurt in the way she studied me. I feared feeling the sharp edge of one of her axes if I pried, so I tried a different tact.

“What’s a barbarian doing acting as a jailer?”

This got her attention. “How did you know that I was a barbarian?”

I couldn’t tell her that her race was a simple click away on my HUD, so I thought of another approach. “The tattoos, height, and general demeanour were a bit of a giveaway.”

“You’ve encountered my people before?”

“Only in myths and legends. Tales of ferocious warriors marauding across the land. That kind of thing.”

“It is true that my people used to be proud warriors. Those days are long past,” she replied.

“How so?”

“Our lands are bleak and barren, hard to work. Some of our leaders looked upon the human kingdoms with envy.”

“Your people were mistreated?”

“Not at all, and that’s why our honour is gone. We would trade with your people. Furs and meat. Oils and ore. What we couldn’t grow, we bought with hard work.”

“So what happened?”

“A new warlord rose and unified the barbarian clans. Dhaulf Bearbane convinced my people that they should take what they wanted and to stop begging for scraps. We’d never begged for scraps. We earned our way in the world.”

“You attacked?”

“They attacked. I took a skiff and stole away by moonlight.”

“How did you end up here?”

Sun sighed morosely. “That’s a tale too long in the telling. Suffice it to say, guarding murderers, thieves, and drunkards all day is not by choice.”

“You’re kind of a prisoner too?”

“Aren’t we all? The farmers are prisoners to the fields. The hunters to the game. Fishermen to the sea. Soldiers to the battlefield. Leaders to duty. Everyone has invisible shackles that none can see but they themselves.”

“And yours is scallywags like us?”

“Scallywags?”

“Naughty people.”

“I think murder and thievery is a little worse than naughty. They don’t lop off heads for naughty.”

“Fair point.”

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked.

“Will it involve a hammer? Maybe a red hot poker this time?”

Sun’s face crumbled at my words and I felt more like a dick than ever before.

“Sorry, I’ve got ex-girlfriend hang-ups.” I wasn’t a prude. I liked to be adventurous in the bedroom. But an unwelcome index finger during the throes of passion had been quite enough in terms of back door penetration for my liking. A thousand degree steel rod was another level of intimacy altogether.

I expected Sun to get up, kick me in the nuts, and storm off, but she remained seated on the cold stone. “I don’t enjoy what I do. The marshal wanted me out of the way. He said my visage was enough to terrify the truth from the people he sends me.”

“He sounds like a peach. You look great by the way. In my land, some of the most beautiful people in the world are covered in tattoos.”

This brought a faint smile to her lips. “It’s meant to inspire fear in one’s enemies, not be pleasing to the eye.”

“It was the same in my land once. Now they’re decorative. Expressive.”

“Your land sounds very strange.”

I rolled my eyes. “You have no idea.”

“May I ask the question now? No pokers… Yet.”

“It depends on the question and who you’ll be passing the answer to.”

“The answer stays with me.”

“Then go ahead,” I replied.

“We have all manner of shamans and witches in the barbarian lands. Most of them are gifted in clever words and herbal remedies, nothing more. Of course they claim the gods deign to speak through them, but I’ve never believed it. What I’ve seen today makes me wonder…”

“Wonder what?”

“Are you… Godspawned?”

“Godspawned? What’s that?”

“Someone sent from the War Halls of Gundar.”

“Hardly. I’m just someone who wandered into the wrong village.”

“You’re truly not a spy?”

“Would I admit it if I was?”

Sun pondered my question and then shook her head. “No. Though Finneus’s suspicion about your timing is well justified. Fortune like that is rare, if not unheard of. Many hundreds of towns and hamlets have fallen to the orc menace, only bones and ashes remaining. Yet this time it was different?”

“Like I keep telling people, I was just lucky. The first raiding party were blind drunk and the second was taken by surprise by the villagers after they’d captured me. I’m not an enemy. I wanted to be an ally.”

“Wanted?”

“The hospitality of the Dawnstar family leaves a lot to be desired. I think if they let me go I’m going to find my own path to Gutrender and Whitespear Mountain. I’m done with playing these games. There was a time when helping people out led to some good will.”

“Dark times breed mistrust. The marshal is a harsh man, but when you consider the position this land is in, I feel grateful I don’t bear the burden of leadership.”

“If he’s in such dire need, you’d think he’d be grateful for any assistance he could get.”

“I’m afraid the assistance has, on occasion, been the revealing of secret tunnels or the opening of the gates in the dead of night to allow an attack. With the desperate cowards in this land to contend with, a stranger from an unheard of kingdom is bound to arouse suspicion.”

“Will the goblins really allow the traitors to live amongst them after they win?”

Sun scoffed. “Of course not. They’ll use them and then discard them. It doesn’t stop people trying to save their own skin.”

“We have a saying in our land. One from a terrible war. It goes; an appeaser is one who feeds the crocodile, hoping it will eat him last.”

She looked puzzled. “A… crocodile?”

“Water creature. Green and scaly. Not unlike the orcs, except far more friendly.”

“I like that saying. Your people are very wise.”

I figured I would give it a shot now that we were moving beyond the torturer/tortured relationship. “I don’t suppose you know any secret tunnels I could use to get out of here?”

“I do, but I can’t. I paid a high price to find sanctuary here and I’m not about to put that at risk.”

“So much for proud barbarians,” I huffed. “You can go now. I’ll wait and see what the marshal decides to do with me.”

Sun stood, embarrassment and anger conflicting in her features. “My people are proud. At least they would be if they hadn’t fallen under the spell of Dhaulf. I’d give anything to put that man under my axes.”

“And yet here you stay,” I mocked.

She whirled around and slammed the door. My feeling of dickishness was now reading about eight point three on the Richter scale. Ok, poor comparison, but I did feel the emotional tremors I’d caused as Sun stomped away.

“Godspawned?” I whispered, speculatively.

I suppose I was. Placed here to do battle on behalf of realm hopping aliens. What was their technology if not godlike? It opened all sorts of doors to all sorts of questions that I wasn’t in the mood to think on, so I retrieved my reward from the Protect the Wagons quest instead.

Item – Simple Longbow (common)

Type – Weapon (Ranged)

Description – Formed from the yew tree, these bows are favoured for their power and range. Comes with an undepletable quiver of basic arrows. Satisfy all your boyhood dreams of playing Robin Hood and remember; Everything we do, we do it for you.

Requirements – Str 6 Dex 6

Effect – Causes piercing damage

Misc - None

"Goddamnit!" Now I had the earworm of Bryan Adams's song that ruled the charts for about seven years playing in my head. Kevin Costner's slow motion flaming arrow as the piano keys chimed. At least it had Morgan Freeman in it.

I put the bow on the floor and it stood almost as tall as me, which was probably why it was called a longbow. I tried the flax string and it creaked under the strain I applied. My proficiency choices left the weapon almost useless, and that was without factoring in my complete lack of experience with archery. I popped it away and looked over the quiver. There was none of the plastic, or nylon, or whatever modern arrows were made from. The thin wood was protected with oil, and the feathers were fresh. A small steel tip was affixed, sharply pointed. I tried to remember the name of the spear type heads. It was bodmin, or bodkin, something like that. Designed to penetrate armour instead of the flatter bits that cut wider wounds. I slipped that in my pack too, realising I had no real idea what I was talking about.

With my mood souring, I conjured my clothes pillow and lay back down. This was proving to be one awful experience after another. I longed for the misery of my failed business and Honey’s awful breath.