An excerpt from the Journal of Tharius, A Death Shrike in Service of the Queen. Written before the incident at Heaven's Gate.
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Month of the Fifth Rising.
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The third day.
We rode hard today, my back aches, and my hand is chaffed from the reigns. My entry sh'an't be long, but I must relay what has transpired, for I have been lacking in my entries as of late. I have been selected by the Queen to journey with Dravis. Long trip ahead. We ride to the castle of Duke Hirakde, in the highlands. Strange goings-ons. Very hush, hush. Unpaid taxes, or some such nonsense. My eyelids droop, 'tis a sign I should stop for today and rest.
The seventh.
We have arrived at the castle. No one at gate. Had to force entry. Dravis is wary. I get a cold chill from him, like he's more than what he seems. But he is loyal to the Queen, his allegiance may not be questioned. The throne room was empty. We rest in the barracks. Entire castle is empty. Tables are set, clothes left mid-washing. What has happened??
The ninth day.
We have found no signs of any one. Searched the entire village, even the farms outside the castle. Tomorrow we shall search the grasslands. I have my reservations. The wild grass grows tall, well over Dravis' head, and he is a tall man. It is razor sharp, grains of silica line their edges. Dravis is confident that our armor shall protect us. Horses must be left in castle. We expect the worse, a massacre in the grasslands. No other explanation plausible.
The 10th.
How can I describe what has happened? We have found the villagers, and the Duke himself. They are living in the grasslands. Cuts cover their bodies, head to toe. Oozing pus and plasma. I thought them necrotic consequences, before they spoke. Strange, though. They are kind, hospitable. Seem to think their presence in the grasslands is natural. They are eating raw toads, and bugs. Sleeping on the matted grass. Their bodies are infested with ticks and lice. Sickening to me. Refuse to leave. They listen, constantly listen. I can tell Dravis is on edge, as am I. We can do little more than exchange glances, at the moment. They say they're waiting. I know not for what.
Day Twelve.
Dravis suggested one of us should ride back and inform the Queen of the events. I am hesitant. Neither wishes to abandon the other. We have decided to remain together and wait.
Day Eighteen.
We are still waiting. I saw something today under the arm of a peasent. It is the first time I have seen one without his torso covered. They all wear long shirts. His underarm was melted, almost rotted. Black, like festering wounds of a battle. I asked him about, he said he saw nothing wrong with his body. I pressed him and he grew agitated. I dropped the topic. Dravis and I shall talk later.
19.
Dravis is gone. I know not where. They won't let me leave to search for him. Their peaceful mannerisms have been abandoned. They have my sword.
24.
I had to kill one of the villagers. We were alone. I convinced them that I had an affliction of the bowels, went to search for medicinal herbs out on the outskirts of the grassland. Two men accompanied me, fully armed. I bent down to pick an herb, and bolted. My armor prevented a speedy escape, but they were caught off guard. One caught up to me, just before he reached me I spun and leapt at him. Tackled him to the ground and beat his head against it. Didn't stop until blood ran from him. The other man looked at me in spite and, what I took to be, fear. He ran from me. I sat on the damaged man. He kept writhing for almost an hour. At first I just kept pounding his skull, but it did nothing to stop it. Eventually I stood and just watched. It sickened me, but I couldn't stop. Finally, he stopped moving and I took his sword. I vomited. I am ashamed to admit it, but it is so. I removed his shirt. The whole torso was red and oozing. I threw-up again, I could not stop it.
Early morning, the twenty-fifth.
I hear chanting in the grasslands. No lights, they never had a fire. I can't sleep with the chanting going. No drums, no instruments, only a mournful chant. I do not know what language it is in. My bones are chilled, despite the warm night. No sign of Dravis since he disappeared. I cannot find my horse in the castle, and Dravis' is gone as well. I considered walking, but the nearest inn is across the border, below the highlands, it would take me many days, and I am weakened. I know not what has caused the disfigurement of the villagers, I fear all food and water. My canteen was long emptied, I have drunk from pools of dew and puddles, and any other sources of water I can find. I debated taking the fight to them. I am fearful. Horribly fearful.
I have lost track of the day it is. The chanting is in the day now, as well. I feel it in my bones, their voices, reverberating in my chest. My heart feels constrained, and my breathing is weak. I tried walking from this accursed place, but I found myself in the grasslands. No matter which way I head, I head into the grasslands. They're drawing me there. Whatever's going to happen, I must be there, I must witness it. I am the chronicle, of this I am convinced. Dravis, where are you? Lend me your strength. I cry out your name until my voice is rasp, but you respond Not! My friend, my ally, my comrade.
There is a final entry, however it is smeared with pus and mud. Slivers of bone and giblets stick to the page.
While his journal contains little more, the results of Tharius' quest were documented, for Dravis had gone to retrieve aid from the rest of the Shrikes. He returned to witness what transpired. His disregard for Tharius was questioned many times, and is presented in the records of his trial, as is his account of the tale.
(In other words, I'll continue this at a later time, told as an account, dictated by Dravis)
~The (Gee-Willickers Batman!) Cretin~
It was a dark and stormy night,
And the first mate said to the captain,
"Tell us a Story!"
And the captain began:
'It was a dark and stormy night
And the first mate said to the captain,
"Tell us a Story!"
And the captain began:'
"It was a dark and stormy night. . . "
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"On the twelfth day of the Fifth Rising I decided that neither I, nor Tharius, could do anything to help these villagers. It was a lost cause. I must state, that I had no intention of abandoning my quest, rather I thought it best to consult those versed in curses that have plagued this region. Forgive me your majesty, I mean not to insult your kingdom, but every diamond is flawed, and your kingdom is no exception. However, I dislodge myself from the path at hand."
"I told Tharius of my intent to leave, but he was fearful. He was young, inexperienced, and had not been exposed to such situations. He was practically newly born babe, for he was not alert, not as a warrior should be, and consistently remained despondent. Surely he would jot things down in his diary, but only with me to wet his quill. I sha'n't say he was maddening, nor in the grips of the disease, he seemed to be. . . in shock. I spoke to him of leaving, coming back later. . . He nodded, dumbfounded. In hindsight. . . it was not just shock, but I knew not then, and so, when the opportunity presented itself, I left. I would've taken him with me if he weren't so misbegotten! Nay, perhaps that is too strong a word. . . but I felt enraged by his inability to act, for himself, for our honour, for the QUEEN."
The hall was silent, held in rapture by the commanding presence of the narrator, Dravis. He stood tall in their gaze, all but immortalised in that brief moment of passion, of emotion. His garb cast flecks of dust into the air, swirling around him, enhancing his aura. The fog swept slinking tendrils around his feet as he continued.
"I left him there, yes, whimpering in the fields of grass. I tried to convince him to come, and for a moment I saw a glimmer of urgency in his eyes, but it passed, and they clouded over again, like a winter's day. He made no motion to follow as I bolted through the grass. The blades whipped my flesh, and stung my eyes. Three of them followed me, but abandoned their chase as I made it to the edge of the grasslands. I climbed the hillock upon which the castle sat, and found my horse. He had wandered into the common and was grazing contentedly at the soft grass. Tharius' horse was with him, and she whinnied at my approach. I left her there, on the common as I rode back here, to gain the advice of the clergy and the wizards."
Dravis fell silent, gazing at those gathered in tribunal before him. The Minister of Justice, again, ran his hand down the sound of his face, the rasping breaking the heavy silence.
"And yet you never arrived here Dravis? Do you spin us tales? Feed us lies in an attempt to appease us? If so, you are failing."
"I speak the truth minister. For on the sixth day of leaving the highlands, I heard Tharius, in my heart, cry out, in fear, in anguish, in agony. His last strands of sanity were wearing thin, and I knew if I were to continue riding here, that I would lose him, for there was at least 3 days left in my journey. And so I turned back, and did not rest, and did not stop, or pull my halter, until I had sight of the highlands, and then I drove my horse harder, until he did breath blood, and his saliva foamed from his mouth. That is what I thought of Tharius, that is how I valued him. And what took me six days of hard riding, I returned in four, and you doubt me?! Look me in the eyes Minister, look me in the eyes and call me a traitor!"
The Minister held Dravis' glare until his eyes grew dry, and his gaze faltered. He adjusted his sleeve, as if it required his immediate attention. He attempted to speak, to assert his control, but he fumbled the words, his mouth dry from anxiety and embarrassment.
"I rode into the highlands searching for my comrade, the whimpering babe I left behind. They chanted, loudly. There were no drums, no percussion, just their voices, high on the wind. I heard it as I approached the castle. Tharius' horse was gone. I left my horse resting, and rested myself, sharpening my blade, and catching my breath. Preparing myself for what was to come."
~The (Quick Break) Cretin~