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Entry I

Upon Sombre Shore

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I cannot recall ever seeing a land with soil so damp and downtrodden. It was not a sadness that befell me when our ship arrived, but a frustration. Frustration for what? Frustration for the damp and cold, that would be but a few words to describe how our stay will be henceforth. I write this as I always do, with my mask off, and a candle by my side. The ink I use, which was intended for a court report, instead lingers on this page to record the events of the evening. 

I was lingering with my kin. Joined by my eldest nephew Casimir in the company of strangers. Half-giants, midgets, and everything that encompasses in between. The people argued as any group of strangers is destined to. Conflicts of titles, their purpose, veiled perceived insults over whether a wine merchant shares traits with a barmaid. In truth, I cared little, but I did find some joy in finding company among those I would not normally seek company in. Perhaps I could have fallen to slumber then and there if an ungodly knock did not clad upon the gate of our new lodgings. It was as if the evening’s debate on the topic of potential natives spawned such into existence. 

I made no intent to hide my displeasure at the prospect of treating in any capacity with the natives of this land. Many spoke of us, as though we were some vested invader. In truth, I believe such words to be correct. Whoever lives here, however long they have lived here, we are certainly not to bear the expectation of a grand welcome. We are invaders here, and the sooner we come to realise what that entails, trading violence for survival, the better. 

This knock- however, do not let me get off topic. It came loud, and it came from the gate. I will commend the lot that resided in the camp for their quick response time. No sooner than three minutes after the native menace pursued upon the gate did we have a team of warriors ready to tend to its defense. My nephew consorted with the half-giant, a man I came to know as Ajax to hold the front. They were joined by an unmasked mirroring of my own family, the Alatristes, who seem to grow one in number each time I gaze upon them. It was they who, joined by additional men and women for whom I do not know the names of, took to defending the soil the gate was situated on.

I took command, in my own self-making to organise a defense from the gatehouse bastions, if you can call such wooden beams bastions. Myself and a sack of six javelins were joined by a young woman by the name of Hel, who seemed far better using a bow than she was at her confidence in displaying such. I did not get to speak much to her, for the violence of the evening preoccupied much of my mind. I was however greeted by O’Hara, whom I had previously insulted somehow over a comment about her wine trade. Truly I don’t know if my age is making me more insulting, or if her skin is thinning than she believes. Either way, I convinced her to forgo using a bow for which she had no experience with and utilise the ancient method of stone-throw to combat those who would bring death upon us. 

I slew one of the invading vermin myself with a spear to the heart, Hel I believe seized another’s life with a well-placed arrow through the chest. O’Hara too assisted greatly in injuring and distracting those who were clawing at the gate with some well-placed stones-in-eyes. Soon I came face-to-face with another masked man, my younger nephew, Romulad. It was he who I commanded to seize a cauldron of water from the camp’s soupstation and fill its contents with water. That, paired with the natives at the gate being preoccupied with the defenders below allowed the four of us to douse them in its boiling contents while our comrades below delivered steel and toil upon them.

As the evening carried on, some spawned spider came into view, a marauder clad atop it’s back like some hellbent steed of war. I was lucky to not betray my ire of such beasts to the men and women already, though I did deliver the last of my javelins to dear Romulad and Miss Hel as I ran to fetch more. It was by the medical tent that I came across a soldier who, brandished with a sword, had not yet ventured to the front. I was to call him a coward, only to call my reigns in short, and instead presumed him to be defending the physicians should the rest of us fall. Perhaps he was considerate, or perhaps he was a coward, I do not know his name nor nature to deem it such yet. 

Upon my return, the spider had all but been slain. While I was not present, I came to hear that Romulad had delivered a decisive blow by jumping from the parapets to lance one of my javelins through the heart of the beast. I would say he owes me a new one, for I saw it snapped upon my arrival, but such is the purpose of those tools, and it died a valient death of a piece of wood tipped in steel. 

A giant of a man, flanked by about fifteen other natives instead had taken a position on the hill, and by means of a charge had lumbered upon the defenders on the ground. The line they pushed, however, was well tended. I saw the half-giant Ajax near cleave a man in two. His presence made me feel better about my nephews. I knew at the very least that if the natives had half a semblance of logic, they’d kill the giant before my own kin first. Is that selfish of me? Perhaps.

Rafael Alatriste and his kin, Francisco joined the vanguard with the other two. Each was delt considerable injuries in the conflict if I’m to be remembering correctly. Rafael and myself slew a native where he stood, Rafael with a cleave to the chest, to be finished off with my second-last javelin. Francisco himself hurled orders around him, sending blade through flesh as he assisted in pushing the line forward. Truely, I have seen little of their culture before. They speak a strange version of our tongue, they wear strange hats. Yet, united in martial prowess as if they were my own  Oleszaki kin. Strange, how such ornate peoples can be unified when survival demands it.

Miss Hel kept arrows upon their back ranks as our lines moved up, an unseen act by many, but observed and noted by myself. I should thank her should I see her in camp again. It was here I met the last Alatriste brother, Bernardo, whom I did not believe spoke. Surely he was more fixated on keeping his kin alive than on such trivial matters as common banter on the battlefield. 

At the twilight of the fight, we came upon their commander. He was a giant, more so than Ajax, clad in the armour of our capital city- if not a little dated. I heard someone shout the words ‘traitor’ at the sight, but I cannot suspect what lay behind that mail was in any way civilised enough to have ventured from Sanctuary. My best guess? We are not the first of our countrymen to arrive on these strange shores. Perhaps there is a reason unspoken to us for our presence here. Are they keeping something from us?

Regardless, this giant in question took the slaughter that would send a dozen others to damnation. I saw Casimir neck-on-neck with the beast, putting his own life at great risk as he delivered killing blow after killing blow. Yet, none but wounded him. I am harsh on him, I would have scolded him had his form been on, what confused me most was that it wasn’t. Each blow delivered by my nephew would have killed better men than most, yet still this beast fought on, even catching my own javelin mid-air. I saw Rafael attempt to impale it, someone else brandished a knife to its neck- nothing. It was not until all six of us, one after another took blades to the thing that it finally fell to its knees, delivering a hellish axe upon Ajax’s skull which I sense would have killed a lesser man. I am not yet sure how I feel about such a large Velk. He shows valor, and had he died- it would have certainly been a noble affair, yet I do not know the man well enough to conclude if such is bravery or madness. Perhaps valor can contain both.

The giant were slain soon after, I think the killing blow was delivered by my kin Casimir, who had implanted his sword so deep in the thing that it took three of us to pry it by the hilt from its innards. In its dying breath, it had seized my nephew by the neck, a sight which led five men to cut away at its hand to release the grip. He was relented from a noble death, which, as I write I suspect many may think I speak too harshly of my kin. Truly I am of the belief that if death desires a son of the  Oleszaki then he will make such known clearly. If dear Casimir is not dead, then it was simply not his time, and more noble pursuits must instead clad his future.

Upon inspecting the beast's armour, a hard-spoken woman, who had been yelling profanities throughout the evening came to claim the armour. Apparently Ajax had stated a desire to own it when he was removed from the battlefield due to his injuries. In truth, I did not understand a word of what she said, she speaks in an unruly accent so unkept that I suspect beggars may toss coins to bare her to be silent. Yet, she was present throughout the battle, even using a bow with me on the parapets. I would have written about her more, had she introduced herself, yet I did note her bravery and proclivity to violence. I enjoyed it, such is necessary in these trying times. 

The evening grew to twilight. I have gathered this unique set of armour in a private location pending its delivery to the Scoutmaster. I suspect it will not be made loot, but will stand as evidence when we return to the capital that in fact, we are not the first of our people to be upon these shores. Until then, it will remain hidden until it can be safely secured onboard the ship we arrived on. Casimir received the mundane medical fortunes affected by one Miss Hestia. She seems nice, we spoke briefly around the campfire, and her service in saving my nephews life is not one that will easily, if ever be forgotten.

I conclude this entry as I gaze by the fire. Mid-way through writing I felt my tent and ordered some volunteers to join me in digging a pit to bury and burn the dead. Ajax did not seem pleased, something about Velk burial customs. I didn’t really care enough, in matters of disease I tend to afford more focus on the physical rather than the metaphysical forces. If I should die on this expedition and find myself before a court of Velk gods, I shall afford them every apology as they torture me in whatever scape they have in store for my death. The smell of the corpses penetrated my mask, and yet an even fouler stench wrangles my mind.

We are not the first of our city to tread these shores. The question only remains, how many were sent before, and is this a predestined death march we are treading on, or a pursuit for greatness and conquest?

I shall ponder further, as I tend to do at such a late hour.

W.U.B. Skarzyn