Mort's Background

Most of the townsfolk laughed when they saw Mort these days, stilting around in his grandfather’s battered old armor.  It was of a style that had long since passed out of fashion and was two sizes too big for Mort’s lanky frame.  Mort compensated by keeping the straps cinched up as far as they would go.  This had the unfortunate side effect of making him look like an upright turtle.

It wasn’t that Mort was particularly skinny, although he was certainly lean; years of scratching food from the soil of his father’s meager farm had ensured that.  In fact, the farm labor had made him stronger than most city-folk.  The real problem was his height.  Mort stood nearly a full head taller than most people he knew [1].  When taken as a whole this gave him a long wiry appearance that was often mistaken for skinniness from a distance. 

Mort’s mother always told him that he would grow into his height, at least that’s what she used to say before she passed away, but at seventeen, he was beginning to lose hope of that happening.

The spectacle of Mort’s remarkable height was compounded by an unfortunate choice of names.  Mort’s actual name was Mortimer, a name chosen by his mother, which meant “still water” in her native Moru [2]. Sadly, the abbreviation, “Mort” was an old Celestine word for “Stump or Stumpy”.  The irony of the name was not lost on the townsfolk as Mort grew from a boy, quickly outstripping her peers in height.  This resulted in a great deal of attention that Mort would have preferred to do without.

Despite his uniqueness, the townsfolk hadn’t always laughed a Mort.  A year ago, before the rumors started, Mort had been just another farmer’s boy.  But when the townsfolk began talking of bandits, and wyverns and the dead walking the earth, Mort began to feel the call of adventure, and a growing sense of obligation.

The call of adventure was easily dismissed as youthful enthusiasm.  Mort’s father knew this and he, along with the parents of other young men in the area responded by burdening their son’s with a hefty increase in chores and obligations.  This worked for the most part (with the exception of Mort’s friend Brenor [3] who ran off to join the Guards) as it kept Mort and his peers far too busy and exhausted to think about adventure.  However, even with the burden of additional chores, Mort’s sense of obligation continued to grow.

The obligation Mort felt went well beyond the simple obligation that one feels for their country.  Mort truly believed that it was his moral obligation to protect the people of this region from harm, and on this point he was not wrong.  He had, in fact, sworn an oath to his grandfather to do so.

Mort’s grandfather had been an officer of the famed Elimirth Sentinels, a once-great order of defenders that had been diminished in recent generations.  Mort had grown up listening to stories of the glory-days of the Sentinels, and as he grew older he begged his grandfather to make him part of the nearly extinct order.  Sadly, for Mort, his father forbade it.  Yet despite this prohibition, Mort’s grandfather, as he lay on his deathbed, defied his son-in-law and extracted the oaths [4] and performed the rituals necessary to induct Mort into the Elimirth Sentinels.  Mort was twelve at the time.

Since that time Mort had never met another member of the Sentinels.  He had attempted to contact the organization for instructions after his grandfather died in a carefully written letter to New Aerith.  In it he announced his grandfather’s death and informed them of his induction into the order.  He had even had old Abbot Gregor [5] proofread it before he sent it, but he had never received a response to his message.

In the months that followed his grandfather’s death, Mort worked hard to sharpen his mind and his body so that he would be ready to do whatever the Sentinels asked of him.  He practiced swordplay with the boys from neighboring farms, pestered the local guards with questions about tactics and fighting, and practiced the longbow every Sixday, a habit that was once required of all male citizens [6] but had become unpopular in recent years.

Mort’s father was less than thrilled about his newfound vocation and responded as he always did, by increasing the number and magnitude of his chores.  Despite Mort’s valiant efforts, the obligations of farm work and distractions of life eventually eroded his willpower and he gave up his martial pursuits except the longbow, which he successfully argued made him a better hunter.  The truth of this statement was reinforced by the quantity and quality of game that Mort brought to his father’s table.

In time, Mort settled back into a comfortable routine full of work, play, the occasional fight, and eventually girls.  By the time he had reached his sixteenth year, he had all but forgotten about his earlier fascination with the Elimirth Sentinels… at least until the rumors started.

It was near the end of summer when Mort first heard the stories; whispered tales of the dead walking, packs of ravenous wolves carrying off children into the night and even wyverns attacking solitary travelers.  Mort thought little of it until a walking skeleton tried to take Jon Cooper’s daughter in the night.  Fortunately Old Man Cooper and his son killed the beast before it could finish its evil work.

The guards didn’t believe Cooper, said he probably dug up the skeleton from a grave or found it while plowing his field.  They told him to stop raising a ruckus or they would haul him in for grave robbing.  However, Mort felt differently.  Cooper was well known for his honesty, and Mort couldn’t believe that he would make up such an outlandish story.

The situation made Mort angry.  The guards seemed more interested in patrolling the streets of the wealthy than protecting the farmers outside the walls.  It wasn’t right that he and his neighbors should be left to fend for themselves.  Someone should be protecting these people.  As Mort thought on this he remembered the oath he had sworn to his grandfather, and realized that “someone” was himself.

After wrestling with the idea for several weeks, Mort decided that his only honorable course of action was to do the job he has sworn, and once longed, to do.  He knew it would be difficult, and many people would not understand, but he felt he had to do it. 

Mort’s father was furious about the situation and tried once again, to bully Mort out of the idea, however, this time, Mort would not back down.  Mort’s absolute certainty of his rightness eventually won out and he and his father agreed to disagree on the subject.  Mort did, however, agree to continue to perform his share of chores around the farm so that he could continue to live under his father’s roof.

The first few weeks were the hardest, people wanted to know what Ellis AldBurke’s boy was doing skulking around their farmland wearing a sword and dressed in armor [7].  He tried to explain about the Elimirth Sentinels and his oath, but many people lacked the patience or interest to listen.  Mort was certain that if he were a guard, or an adventurer from far away, they would have treated him differently, but he was just the AldBurke [8] kid to these people.

Despite the hostility and bewilderment of his neighbors, Mort persisted in his calling.  He helped wherever he was allowed, escorting the Thurson girls [9] on berry picking expeditions, hunting down a pack of stray dogs that were stealing Old Lady Gerhardt’s chickens, and scouting the surrounding area for signs of trouble.  He even tracked down a “bandit” once, but it tuned out to be Hodd Bergen, a local drunkard with too much time on his hands.

After more than a year, Mort decided that people would never take him seriously unless he started protecting them from bigger threats.  He considered joining the guard, but he wasn’t sure that an Elimirth Sentinel was allowed to do that.  The arena at the old temple might provide some good experience and even money, but he was just as likely to have his skull caved-in and it didn’t seem all that honorable.  After a great deal of consideration, Mort eventually decided to seek out some mercenary work.  While not exactly “honorable” it wasn’t dishonorable, and it might make people take him a bit more seriously.  Besides, it would definitely make his father happy if he were to bring home some money for his labors.

 

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[1] - Mort has 5 character points invested to increase his Basic Move by 1 yard/second.  This accounts for his unusually long stride.

[2] - Mort’s mother, who passed away when he was ten, was from the lake country on the border between The Celestine Empire and Irillia.

[3] - Brenor Smith has been a friend and neighbor of Mort since he was a child.  Mort has many fond memories of playing and hunting with Brenor. Mort learned some rudimentary smithing skills from Brenor as they used to sneak into his father’s forge and hammer nails and other scraps into arrow and spear heads for hunting birds and other small game.  Mort still meets with Brenor a couple times a week to practice sword fighting.

[4] - Code of Honor (Elimirth Sentinel’s): -10 Points. ”And the duties of an Elimirth Sentinel are these – Never harm an innocent or fail to proffer aid to an innocent in harm’s way, slay Wyverns and whatsoever other beasts may threaten the safety of your friends, your family, and your countrymen, and fear not death, for fear is the only sway death wields over the quick, and it troubles not the dead one whit.”

[5] - Silas Gregor is the Abbot at a small Orkrist abbey near Mort’s family farm.  He runs a small government sponsored school out of the abbey where he teaches local children the basics of reading and writing.  Mort learned all he knows of reading and writing numbers from Abbot Gregor.

[6] - As in Medieval England, a Celestine statute requires every able bodied man to practice with the longbow once a week.  However, the law has fallen into disuse and is not enforced in most regions (also like medieval England).

[7] - After Mort’s grandfather’s death, Mort’s father tried to sell his grandfather’s armor.  Mort, fearing the loss of such a valuable family heirloom, took the armor and hid it, allowing his father to believe it had been stolen.  Years later, when Mort’s father discovered him wearing the armor he was furious, but could do nothing since Mort’s grandfather had, in truth, willed the armor to Mort when Mort took the oath.  Mort’s grandfather’s armor includes a bastard sword named Hemlock.  The hilt and scabbard of the weapon is covered in rough green leather that his grandfather swore was Wyvern skin.  The pommel is weighted and polished Southern Hemlock.

[8] - Mort’s family name, “Aldburke” is an old Celestine term meaning “Old Fortress”.  It comes from the farm on which his family lives which is built among the bones of an ancient fortification.  All that really remains of the old fortification are some wall foundation, a stone outbuilding (converted to a house) and an old rickety tower (now a hay barn).  The property’s last military use was as a watch post for the Elimirth Sentinels but was deeded to Mort’s grandfather when he retired as reward for his long years of service.

[9] - Chastity and Felicity Thurson are the twin daughters of Dodd Thurson.  They are a couple years younger than Mort and are known to get in to trouble.  Their father, a religious man, asked Mort, on the recommendation of Abbot Gregor, to accompany his daughters on their regular “berry picking expeditions” after he discovered they had been using them as an excuse to meet soldiers at a local tavern.  Most of these expeditions end up with Mort on the defensive, vigorously fending off the advances of two young attractive teenage girls.  He has varying degrees of success.

Mort brought his friend Crespin with him once in the hope that he would help him fend off the uncomfortable advances.   This turned out to be disastrous (in a disturbing and fun way) as Crespin made no attempt to fend off anything at all, but instead chose to encourage the girls.

 Unbeknownst to Mort, Abbot Gregor’s “recommendation” is part of a conspiracy with Mort’s father and Dodd Thurson to get Mort romantically involved with one of Dodd’s promiscuous daughters.  Ideally Mort would impregnate one of them and be forced to give up his foolish ideas and settle down with her.  This would obviously please Mort’s father, and would allow the Thurson girl to marry better than someone with her flexible morality normally could.  Abbot Gregor is involved simply because he likes to meddle. 

 DAY 1

With the two Suul soldiers dead, there remained only Hugh and the confusing "statue" reference. I looked to the other tower across from me. Perhaps we will find Hank there...

...or at least that's what I thought at the time. It turned out that he was holed up in a cave under the tower we were in. We all proceeded down the stairs, still in the magical disguises Schmendrick had provided. I'm not sure who fired the first shot, but when it happened I ran forward, still disguised as one of Hugh's Suul soldiers, shouting that the goblins were rebelling in my best immitation of a Suul accent. Hugh seemed confused at first and didn't move to stop me as I cut down the two wizened looking goblins beside him. It wasn't until I turned my blade on him and announced that the Elimirth Sentinels had condemned him that he reacted. The fight started well enough, with me getting in a solid blow, but he quickly returned the attack with several hammering sword blows of his own. I tried to fend him off, but the heavy blows left me in too much pain to react. I fell quickly.

The others told me later, after Oskar had revived me, that Pip, the self-professed coward, had saved the day, hurling kinves at both goblins and Hugh with deadly accuracy. 

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DAY 2

I arrived back in Tristan today to both vindication and villification. The vindication came when I delivered the head of an actual goblin to Captain Edmund of the Tristan Guard. He, like most of Tristan believed that that goblins were only creatures of myth and legend made up to frighten children. For over a year I had been warning people of the dangers of creatures like these only to be scoffed at. It was extremely satisfying to finally be able to present the evidence to back up my often mocked warnings.

The villification came when I learned that in my absence I had been accused of the rape and murder of Chastity Thurson and the abduction of her twin sister Felicity. Although my companions of the last few days vouched for my innocence, the guards claim to have two eyewitnesses who saw me fleeing the woods near the Thorson farm with Felicity. I'm deeply concerned for both Felicity, and her family, and I'm worried about how I will be viewed by the townsfolk, who already find me odd, and by the local magistrate should the true culprit not be found.

I can hardy believe that Chastity is dead. I remember when I first met her. It was shortly after I had renewed my oath as a sentinal and began "patrolling". My father mentioned that Jed Thurson was looking for someone to escort his daughters on their berry & herb gathering trips in the woods around their home. At first I thought that my father had finially come to accept my choice to be a Sentinel, however, I later concluded that it was a plot between their father and mine. The twins were not known for their virtue and it was in the best interest of both their father and mine that we give up our dreams and passions and settle into a mediocre life.

Despite their distasteful reputation, the twins turned out to be two of the most genuinely caring and friendly people I have ever met. They were both well aware of their reputation and had come to the same conclusion that I had about our fathers plotting. Yet despite that awareness they spent most of our time together flirting, teasing and outright propositioning me. I would like to say that I was strong and resisted temptation, but the truth is I lasted little more than a week. It was Chastity who finally toppled my feeble willpower, luring me into a secluded glade and introducing me to things I had only heard of. Strangely, when it was all over, and the twins had added me to their list of conquests, the teasing stopped and we all settled into a comfortable and open friendship.

It pains me deeply to think that the sweet, caring girl I remember has been murdered and violated in such a brutal way. I hope that Abbot Gregor's helfire and damnation sermons aside, Orkist welcomes her to his table. She may not have been the moral beacon her family had hoped when they named her Chastity, but she was pure in her own way, and only really wanted people to be happy. But enough of my greiving. Felicity is in grave danger and I am at risk of being blamed for a terrible murder. I will mourn for Chastity after after her sister is found.

I'm staying at The Merechant's Last tonight as I can't bear to face my father under these circumstances. No doubt he will have something scathing to say about there being consequences to my foolish choices. Also, considering the circumstances, I'm not sure the guards would even let me out of the city gate. I will begin my search for Felicity and the real culprit in the morning.

 

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DAY 3

I went out to the woods near the Thorson farm first thing this morning. After searching for a time I eventually came across an area where I believed the murder had taken place. There were many footprints and other signs of a struggle. Carefully I began to circle outward past the footprints of those who had found her and the guards who had come to investigate. I was looking for a trail of footprints that led away from the scene, probably heavy ones, if they were carrying Felicity, or perhaps scrape marks, if they were dragging her. Eventually after sifting through a maze of old boot prints I came across what I believed to be the trail. Unfortunately I am not nearly talented enough to follow a three-day old trail though the dense scrub that surrounds the Thurson's farm, so I marked the trail and went back to town to find Vance.

It was well past noon when Vance finally came into The Merchant's Last. He and Crespin agreed to come help and we wasted no time in returning to the trail I had found. After a few hours of following Vance I was forced to conclude he is part bloodhound. He slowly and painstakingly followed the faded trail through miles of scrub and grass, across roads and bridges, and even up a stream for a ways. I was also forced to question the competence of the city guard, why hadn't they found this trail, and why hadn't they used real bloodhounds to follow it? Night had fallen by the time we reached the trail's end, at a small cave in the woods several miles from Tristan.

Vance quietly snuck inside first and after a moment, Crespin and I followed. Felicity was there, bound and naked. She began to scream when she saw me so I removed myself from her sight. Crespin suggested that he carry her back to town, he was still wearing the gloves he had taken from Hugh and he assured us that they made her meager weight quite manageable. Vance and I agreed and we settled into a small blind that he constructed to wait for her captors. When they showed up we quickly disabled them. Two with arrows to the legs and a third with a heavy blow from the flat of my axe.

The city guard showed up shortly thereafter and took the culprits into custody. By the next day my name was cleared as it was discovered that Felicity's captors had used an alchemical elixer that made her believe she was seeing, not her captors, but her friends and family.

Crespin and I were invited to Chastity's funeral service the next day, her parents had put off the service until Felicity was confirmed dead or returned to them. We attended seperately. I am annoyed with him for attempting to take individual credit for saving Felicity. If anyone deserves individual credit for Felicity's resuce it's Vance. Without his uncanny tracking skill we would never have been able to find her. As for the funeral itself, there turned out to be far more men in attendance than women, a fact that seemed to annoy her parents but would doubtless have thrilled Chastity. No doubt they will all miss her. I know I will.

23rd of Highspring, 1977 FG

Work has been a bit scarce since the incident with the Thurson twins so last week the group took a job guarding a caravan traveling to the city of Midvale.  It didn’t pay much but Schmendrick had some business up that way so we took it anyway.  I won’t get in to the details here, but suffice it to say that Schmendrick is not the bumbling foolish wizard I had previously taken him for.  Before he lost his memory (and part of his mind, I suspect) he was apparently a magician of significant skill.

On the return trip from Midvale we came across a traveler who had been attacked by a large group of undead.  I have been anxious to test my blade against the undead since one tried to take old Jon Cooper’s daughter almost two years ago, and destroying this group would certainly fall within my duties as a Sentinel.  My friends readily agreed that we should face this threat.

The undead were mostly old battered skeletons, who themselves turned out to be little problem, although there was one incident with Crespin who was grappled to the ground by eight or ten of the creatures, which promptly exploded in a whirlwind of fire and splintered bone.  I suspect that had he not been wearing that abominable skullcap he would have died that night.  The explosion was so fierce it completely obliterated his clothing.

The real threat of the evening turned out to be the wraith that was leading the group of skeletons.  The vile creature radiated fear and dread.  I had heard of the effect that they can have, but nothing could have prepared me for the reality.  I was unable to move, completely paralyzed with fear.  Had I not emptied my bladder before the fight, I suspect I would have soiled myself.

I don’t think I have the words to describe the depth of shame and failure I felt that night, standing there frozen as the wraith closed in on my friends.  I suspect that it was that very shame that finally broke me free of my fear, allowing me to strike down the beast as it fled past me, having been bested by the wizardry of my companions.  Crespin, of course, noticed my shame and wasted no time in poking at the wound, making some rude remark about me freezing up when it really mattered.

Having struck the killing blow on the wraith, I had the strange opportunity to release the beast.  It appeared in front of me as a ghost of what it had been in life and asked to be released to death.  I did so, but not until after I had forced it to answer a few questions.

It turns out that the creature was not from Phoenix but from the border near Silothreni.  The creature had been knows as Analyn Fehr in life, and her own vile daughter, Serena, had tricked her into becoming a wraith and sent her against The Celestine Empire.  Slowly it occurred to me that perhaps all of the recent undead incursions had come from this same evil girl.  Phoenix threatened the Silothreni border as well as the Celestine border, and it would be in Silothreni’s best interest if The Celestine Empire started a war with Phoenix, distracting their attention away from Silothreni.

Realizing the magnitude of what I had discovered, I pushed doubly hard to get back to Tristan the next day.  However, we were slowed down by the discovery of a large recent battlefield.  It appeared to have been a fight between Tristan militia and a group of undead.  There were scattered remains of skeletons and some banners on the battlefield, but no bodies.  Sergeant Grumby said this was because they had animated the dead to join their ranks. 

Vance was able to track down one survivor; a scout, like himself, and an old friend of his.  The scout confirmed what we suspected while we mended his wounds.

When we finally arrived at Tristan, later that day, I wasted no time in reporting what I had found to Captain Edmund of the Tristan guard.  He listened with interest but indicated that he didn’t have sufficient men to investigate our concerns right now.  Especially since they had just lost a company of men on the battlefield we had encountered earlier.  He asked us to wait while he spoke with The Council about the matter. 

The Captain returned after some time and told us that he had been authorized to hire a trustworthy group to travel to Silothreni to learn more and perhaps find this “Serena Fehr” who had sent troops against The Celestine Empire.  Considering our track record with the city he wanted to give us the first opportunity to accept the contract.  The job would be dangerous, and likely take us far into “enemy” territory, even through Phoenix itself, but it was a vast improvement over guarding caravans and my companions and I readily accepted.

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3rd of Bloomtide, 1977 FG

We finally arrived in Phoenix.  What an incredible city.  The Celestine Empire is right to fear a war with this place.  Everyone here carries weapons and uses magic openly.  The walls are incredible.  It would take a very powerful army to overcome the fortifications of this place.

We had heard that Phoenix does a brisk trade in magical items but after seeing just how “brisk” we decided to secure lodging for a few days so that we could sell some of the items we had been unable to sell in Tristan and have our own weapons and armor enchanted.

It was at those lodgings, a few days after we arrived that we met Johnny “Tourguide” Smith.  He apparently had some deal with the local merchants to show new arrivals around in the hope that we would buy something.  I was a suspicious of his motives, but the group decided to go with him, so I went along. 

Johnny showed us around the major sections of the city including Old Aerith, a ruin where ghosts openly walk the streets.  He assured us that they were harmless, but they took a strong dislike to Sergeant Grumby and we had to leave.  We spent most of our time in The Library, where nearly any imaginable topic could be read about.  I did a little research on the Elimirth Sentinels and found out that there was a ruined Elimirth Sentinel office in Old Aerith.  I made a mental note to seek it out before I left Phoenix.

After finishing at the library I headed over to the more lively part of town to sample the local drinks and get to know the natives.  I was doing quite well, having attracted the attention of several girls, including a very pretty brunette, when Crespin showed up to ruin things for me.  He walked directly over to the brunette girl, with whom I was talking, and spouted off one of his typically horrible pick-up lines.  Unbelievably, after a coy smirk in my direction, the girl went for it.  Within the space of a few minutes Crespin had lured her away from my side and had her hanging on his every word.  

Needless to say, I was furious at Crespin.  It wasn’t so much that he had taken away my prospect for companionship for the night, (although I have to admit it has been so long that the thought makes me ache) so much as the sheer, blatant betrayal of the act.  By what definition of the word “friend” is it ok to do something like that.  With friends like Crespin Fisher, who needs enemies?

Being angry, and a little drunk, I decided to leave before I did something that would attract the attention of the watch.  I wandered back over to Old Aerith and asked a gardener (I’m not sure if he was a ghost or not, but I suspect so, since he was tilling in the middle of the night.) where I could find the old Sentinel building.  He pointed me in the right direction and told me that the spirits that occupied the place were a little picky about who they let in, so I might be knocking for a while.

I found the place fairly easily and knocked on the door.  To my surprise a ghostly middle-aged female stepped through the door, immediately answering the knock.   I explained to her that my grandfather had been a sentinel and I had taken the oath, but that I had never meet another sentinel (aside from my grandfather) and was looking for some guidance.  She was very helpful, if a little distracted, and gave me an ancient book called “The Law of the Sentinels”.

Not wanting to damage the fragile book I carefully carried it back to the inn.  When I arrived I discovered Crespin in my room, having his way with the brunette from the tavern on my bed.  What an asshole.  I hope she gives him the clap.  Unable to use my own bed I broke in to Crespin’s room where I eventually fell asleep on his bed, despite the noise from my room next door.

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4th of Bloomtide, 1977 FG

This morning I took the old book I got from the ghost Sentinel in Old Aerith to be repaired.  The wizards near the library did an amazing job of restoring the book, and even made me a second copy.  When I got back to the inn, Johnny “Tourguide” Smith was there talking to the rest of the party.  Apparently his “free” tour was just his way of buttering us up to do a job.  It turns out his “uncle” had “accidentally” summoned a demon within the city limits and he wanted us to hunt it down and banish it before the authorities discovered it.

We still had a day or so before the enchantments on our gear would be completed, so we decided to take the job.  Johnny gave us a scroll with which to banish the creature and a pair of lenses that when looked through would detect both illusions and shape-shifted beings.

We started in the livelier section of town since Schmendrick said demons love to cause mischief we had heard that the war leader of Phoenix, Bulfeif, had been involved in a deadly brawl in that area last night.  It didn’t take long to spot a likely candidate.  The creature was in the guise of an attractive girl so Crespin, decided to approach her.  I was too far away to hear what Crespin said to her but it was apparent from her sudden, angry reaction that she had been far less receptive to his pick-up line than the woman last night.

I rushed over to salvage the situation, playing the hero.  The woman bought it completely and I have to admit that I derived more than a little enjoyment out of running off Crespin.  She seemed pleased by my attention and agreed to have breakfast with me.  Her name was Lizzie and she claimed to be from a town near Tristan.  So far as I could tell she genuinely knew the area.  After hearing her story I wondered briefly if perhaps the demon had slain a real girl and claimed her memories and identity.  I had heard of such things in children’s tales.  That sounds silly until you realize that goblins, witches, the undead, and all sorts of other real creatures that the average Celestine believes to be myth and legend are also mentioned in children’s tales.

Despite my concerns, I found Lizzie quite enthralling and before I knew it we had made our way to my room and she was showing me her “preferred” form, a blonde goddess the likes of which I have only seen once before, when I caught a glimpse of Lydia without her veil on.  (I made a mental note to look at Lydia through magic lenses the next chance I got.)  Demon or not, the girl was clearly interested in getting very friendly with me and I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist her charms.

Just as I was about to give up all self-control someone knocked at the door.  It was Lydia, obviously come to rescue me.  I wasn’t sure whether to thank her or throw her out…  I opted instead for silence while she “reminded” me of an “appointment” that we had with a mythical client.  I arranged to meet the girl later at a tavern we both knew and bid her farewell.  Lydia waited by the door while I fastened up some buttons that had somehow come loose.  Although her veil hides her emotions fairly well, I think I detected a hint of laughter at my awkward posture and obviously aroused state.

We spent the rest of the day searching for other possible demons.  Eventually we ran in to the aftermath of a spontaneous street fight in another section of town.  A bystander told us some guy who had disappeared before the watch arrived had started it.  I’m told that this is the kind of mischief demons love to cause, so we searched the immediate area.  The search turned up Lizzy, working as a barmaid in a tavern a few buildings away.

Since she would have recognized Crespin and I, Vance went inside and found out that she had arrived for her shift only moments after the fight had started outside.  I was becoming fairly convinced that Lizzy was the demon we were looking for.  She had been present at a couple of violent disturbances and she was clearly a shape-shifter.   After discussing the matter with the rest of the group we began to make a plan to trap her using a pentagram concealed under my bed.

It took a lot longer to make the pentagram than I had expected and it was almost midnight when I finally arrived at the tavern where Lizzy and I were supposed to meet.  Lizzy was in the back enduring the unwelcome attentions of Bulfief, the infamous General of the armies of Phoenix.  I distracted him by announcing that I wanted to buy a round of drinks for the whole place.

This drew more attention from Bulfief than I had intended as he came over to ask what I was celebrating.   Lizzy slipped out the door while I made some excuse about deciding just the moment before to move to Phoenix for good.  He slapped me on the back (a blow that would have felled me had I not been sitting), told me I looked like a sturdy lad and invited me to come train with him at the public training grounds in the morning.  I agreed and he made his way back over to the flock of women waiting at his table.

From there on everything went according to plan.  Lizzie went with me back to my room, eagerly climbing onto the bed.  After a few breathless moments of fumbling with buttons and laces in the candlelight I decided I’d better get on with it before I lost my resolve.  I made some excuse about latching the door and pulled away from her, lifting the blanket that covered the pentagram as I did so.

After that things started to get difficult.  Once I had determined that that she could not escape the pentagram I explained to her what was going on.  I tried to get her to show me her true form so that I could be sure, but she wouldn’t.  Then Crespin came in and she started to cry.  It was painful to watch, but I steadied my resolve, telling myself it was a demon trick. 

In the middle of all this someone had gotten Johnny “Tourguide” Smith and brought him up to the room to confirm that this was the demon we were looking for.  He said he thought she was and left.  Not seeing any other choice at this point, I read the scroll of banishment.

For the first time in my life I felt magical energies moving through me.  It was a remarkable sensation, like discovering a brand new sense you didn’t know you had.  As I pronounced the final words of the scroll the weeping stopped and Lizzie quietly vanished.  After a brief moment of silence, Schmendrick said, “Well, we just banished the wrong demon.”

I wanted to kill him.  He knew and yet he was silent, perfectly content to banish her anyway?  “Never harm an innocent...” They are the first words of the Sentinel’s Oath.  Was Lizzy an innocent?  Had I just been a party to banishing an innocent creature to some horrible fate?

I found out later that while I was slipping away with Lizzie the rest of the party had spotted another demon with Bulfief, one that nobody could remember having seen until a couple days ago.  It was the same brunette that Crespin had slept with the night before, and she looked a great deal like Lizzy.  I didn’t get much sleep that night.

---

5th of Bloomtide, 1977 FG

The next morning a group of guards came looking for me.  They said someone had filed a complaint about me abducting Lizzy.  I was so sick about the incident that I almost told them everything.  Instead I muttered out some half-truth about her teleporting away.  They asked about the pentagram under my bed, but I told them it was there when I got the room.

I had been thinking about getting drunk that morning, but after the encounter with the guards I decided it might be a good idea to take up Bulfeif on his offer to train with him.  I might need some allies in this city very soon, and I couldn’t think of anyone I knew who was more powerful.

When I arrived Bulfief was training a bunch of green recruits.  He invited me to be his demonstration partner and I eagerly accepted.  The next few hours turned out to be some of the best I’ve had in Phoenix or anywhere else.  I quickly learned that I could go at Bulfeif full speed and full force without any worry of hitting or hurting him.  It was exhilarating, and I broke two wooden training swords against his defenses before they gave me a blunted steel weapon.

In the middle of it all I realized that I hadn’t been entirely untruthful the night before when I told Bulfeif that I wanted to move to Phoenix.  In Tristan I was still the town oddball, a wannabe Sentinel, but here I was liked and even respected.  Still, duty is more important than my own desires.  Right or wrong that’s why I had banished Lizzy last night.  It’s why I continue to look out for a backstabbing weasel like Crespin (I promised Rosie and Flora).  It’s why I came to Phoenix and it’s why I will leave it…because I swore an oath, and live or die, a Sentinel fulfills his duty.