eruditus
07-15-2003, 12:29 PM
This is nearly brilliant in covering the basics of the group's exploits (and certainly earns Yagathai/Wilhelm 2 Artha).
Enjoy the journal entry and 2 Artha to those not playing in my game if they can figure out any of Wilhelm's character traits :) Additionally, at the end of this series of adventures I will have a Trait Vote which i will probably allow the folks on this list to participate in having a pretty good representation of who the characters are (albeit through a rather sckewed filter). more on that in later posts.
Character Notes:
Sub. I - Abby
Sub II - Trill
Sub III - Glimm
Sub IV - Roar
Sub V - Sierra
Excerpted from the journal of Sir Wilhelm Menmatmet, Scholar and Physick.
Date: Unknown. Temp. designation: Day 1
Today is the first day that I find myself truly clear of all of the aftereffects of the bicentipod venom, and so I shall resume my notes. May posterity find them useful.
Distressingly, I find myself in the company of my former patients, specifically subjects B2, B3, B5, C1 and D14. For the sake of simplicity, I shall re-designate them Subj. I-V, respectively. Of our small group, I seem to have the most difficulty shaking the venom's hold. It's not suprising -- to overcome an intellect as prodigious as my own, the dosage required must have been considerable.
We find ourselves in some godsforsaken northern outpost manned by a handful of barbarians and -- oddly enough -- an aged woman of my own race. She may, however, be of mixed descent. These people have treated us unaccountably well. I wonder what they want from us. We have little to offer.
The initial reality-adjustment period seems to be progressing fairly well. With the exception of some minor aberrations, everyone seems to have grasped the basic concept of what's happening to us. There is another in hiding with us -- a Black Bannerman who calls himself Roland. He seems to be taking everything that we've been talking about in good stride. I am suspicious of his motives.
Hiding -- this brings me to another point, which is the distressing proximity of a massive (1500+ indiv.) troll war-encampment within spitting distance of where we are. This is exactly the kind of situation that pacifists and apologists like Subj. I-III have helped create. Disgusting. Whatever possessed me to help them in the first place?
All subj. (with the logical exception of Subj. III) as well as the Black Bannerman seemed quite disgusted with the reality of Subj. IV. I must admit that I was nonplussed the first time I didn't hear his heartbeat myself (at least they didn't have to watch him being made!), but their reaction is very interesting considering the realities of our conjoined hallucination. I find this a hopeful sign -- adaptation to real-world reality seems to be quite advanced.
Based on their reactions when I began to broach the topic, I don't think that they're quite ready to learn just exactly what Subj. V really is. Just as long as they don't unstitch her mouth, we should be fine.
Day 3
Simple arithmetic has made several things obvious. One, the trolls MUST move south in order to feed themselves. Our cities will have to take to arms. Two, this outpost of (relative) civilization that we currently occupy cannot hold out the winter without outside aid. What they want from us becomes clear. Instead of risking their own barbarous necks, they intend to send us out to secure sufficient provisioning to allow them to last the winter. I suppose that that's not an entirely reasonable request, considering the trouble that they're going to to shield us.
Their leader, a barbarian who calls himself "Beregond" and who, against all rational thought, has some immunity from troll molestation, has volunteered to lead our mounts ahead of us so that we shall have a better chance to sneak through troll lines. Irregardless of this, I am not sanguine about our chances of slipping through unmolested. While I don't know very much about how much woods-cunning the beasts possess, their obvious animalistic nature implies that their senses might be superior to ours, and therefore they might be more suited to track us than a similar group of humans. Fortunately, I doubt that their organization lends itself to regular patrols, &c.
Day 3, Addendum: Discussions with the Black Bannerman implies that trolls are well-adapted nocturnals, meaning cold camps and travel by daylight. I was right. Trolls are probably the only foes that we're going to have to deal with -- Beregond's camp doesn't seem to be able to spare the skilled manpower to send a party down our backtrail in order to ensure that we don't abandon their mission. Then again, if Beregond is even remotely intelligent, he'll have concealed his true strength from us anyway. If Beregond is even the real leader, which is far from certain.
How HAS this outpost managed to survive so long so close to the trolls, anyway? Beregond spins a tale of out-wrestling a troll chieftan and thereby earning the beasts' respect, but I don't find that a likely tale at all. Could something darker be at work here?
Then again, if something truly dark in the infernal sense WERE at work, I'm sure that Subj. III would have sniffed it out and allied himself with it already.
Day 8
It appears that I was wrong re: trollish organizational capabilities. Today we came upon a defensive line consisting of a near half-dozen gigantic (albeit primitive) watchtowers that may or may not have continued in either direction. And as I witnessed trolls building one, there seems to be no doubt that the beasts possess some sort of rudimentary engineering capability. Damn. They're even MORE of a threat than I had imagined. They've probably picked up our back-trail by now. I'm sure that we're being followed.
In the meantime, everyone seems to have adjusted fine to functioning within the real-world. As I suspected, our consensual reality is now only very rarely referred to -- blocking it from their minds is the first stage of healing for the weaker-minded. Of course, considering my position, I am neither allowed nor do I require such a luxury.
Sneaking past the picket line was aided by misty weather and the distraction that some of the more hasty subj. provided. It also provided interesting data on the limitations of Subj. IV. Though capable of following simple instructions, it seems that finer motor control is still beyond him -- if I recall early theories correctly, there was some doubt as to whether his lack of dexterity was an inherent defect or simply a result of insufficient time to adjust to his new condition.
While fully adapted to current realities, it seems as if the personality overlays which we placed upon some of the subj. while inside their conjoined hallucination (and, in the case of subj. III, personality traits which seemed to spontaneously develop) are holding. The former pacifist isn't spouting her nonviolent filth anymore, and the apologists don't seem all that apologetic when faced with actual trolls in the actual malevolent, anthrophagic flesh. Even Subj. V seems free of the taint that once held sway over her, though I'm watching her stitches carefully.
Subj. III is... just creepy. It's not the most scientific or professional term, I know, but it's nevertheless accurate. Still, I won't let such subjectivity taint the observational process.
Day 9
We should be coming upon our steeds presently.
Day 9, addendum: We found our steeds, and also a troll party laying in ambush. At first I thought Beregond might have intentionally sold us out, but if that were the case we would have been troll-meat yesterday. Still, it's very possible that he was tracked and the ambush laid upon HIS back-trail.
There were only 4 trolls, fortunately, and with no small effort on my part we managed to rout them fairly quickly. One got away, but two fell before my blade and a third fell to the preternatural (infernal?) capabilities of subj. III. Rather depressingly, of the five highly trained anti-troll commandos that I've (grudgingly) adopted as my travelling companions, only one of them seems the least bit efficacious against trolls! Even the Black Bannerman could do nothing but dodge meat-hooks and land useless pinprick after pinprick until I came to his rescue.
It seems ironic to me that only I, who was never originally intended to be part pf the anti-troll team in the first place, was the only one that could do anything but the most superficial of damage to the monsters.
Subj. II sustained some cracked ribs, and lacking proper instruments or supplies I couldn't do very much for her but do my best to set them non-invasively, tend the scrapes and wrap some bandages around her chest. I don't think that she's bleeding internally (though if she dies in a week, we'll know for sure), but considering her slight frame and the fact that we're all still somewhat ravaged from our period of long deprivation, it may take her months to heal -- and even then, she'll probably still feel it on stormy days.
For all that I was the pivotal figure in yesterday's battle, I suffered nothing worse than a bruise. Still, it was a close call indeed -- a crossbow bolt took my helm off and almost skewered my head like a grape on a kebab. Though the fault for this lies mainly with Bing, who secured for me the defective piece of armor (yes, Bing again. Why do I tolerate such nincompoopery?), I can't help but blame myself as well. Next time I won't trust the task of procuring adequate protection for my skull to a creature with a brain only slightly larger than my clenched fist.
I didn't get a good chance to examine the troll's crossbow, as he was the one that fled from my martial prowess, but if it's of troll manufacture (as I suspect it is), then their technology is even more advanced than I had suspected. Double-damn.
Even now I can feel his beady eyes burning holes in my back. Is he out there? The rain is beginning to come down HARD, so I'm no more capable of seeing him than he is of seeing me. This is a mixed blessing.
In slightly disturbing news, I seem to have suffered a pressure-based reversion to my conjoined-hallucination reality. It only lasted for a few seconds, but I'm still rather disturbed. Lasting side-effects were only to be expected, of course, especially considering the excessive dosage that I recieved, but it was nevertheless embarrassing. Perhaps nobody noticed.
Day 10
Subj. V, always the physically frailest of our sad and sorry bunch, has rapidly developed a fever that I fear might be fatal unless we can get her treatment and a warm, dry place to recover for a few days. The Black Bannerman claims to have seen a ruin up ahead that may provide some shelter from this gale. Of course, what he fails to consider is that all of the nasties currently inhabiting these hills have ALSO decided to take shelter in the ruins. Chances are it's overrun by bandits. Or trolls. Or undead. Or, more likely, undead bandit trolls.
That was a joke.
Mostly.
Day 10, addendum: I'm almost SURE that we're being followed.
Day 10, addendum II:
The ruins are indeed inhabited, seemingly by a bunch of indigenous nomadic savages pretending at settled civilization. Bing, once more proving his stunning incompetence, managed to get captured while attempting to light a torch. I swear, I don't know why I bother with him sometimes.
Subj. I-III, as well as the Black Bannerman, have decided to parlay with the inhabitants of the ruin, and have (amazingly) been snookered out of their weapons and mounts with only a nebulous promise of safe-conduct in return. What utter nincompoops they can be. I shall have to revise my estimate of the Black Bannerman's abilities even further downward. Funny. I seem to recall the Black Banner Company being, on the whole, much more competent during the war.
I wonder if he's what he claims to be?
They'll not catch me, though. I let them think that they lulled me into a fake sense of security by 'allowing' me to sleep next to their staircase, and ransoming Bing with my horse, but they'll not catch me unawares. I've rigged the place with cunning traps and neither Bing nor I will sleep tonight. When they come to take me, they'll find me a bit more than they bargained for.
I'm currently using the ranger's variation on the old hedgehog-blanket trick to keep myself awake. I don't like it very much. Note: Collect hedgehog pelts at earliest opportunity.
Subj. III seems to be muttering to himself a lot lately. Lasting effects from our ordeal are not unexpected, but I shall have to watch him closely nevertheless.
Day 11
Savages seem to not be hostile, though they still could be lulling us into false sense of security. We've managed to convince them into tending Subj. V until we return. They may be sincere, but possible that they intend her for the stewpot. Heh. I'd like to see them try. If their intentions are malefic, undoubtedly one of the primitives won't be able to resist the temptation and will remove her mouth-stitches. Should they do that, Subj. V will reduce this ruin to a heap of rubble. That is, even more rubble than there is now. She'll make smaller rubble out of the rubble already here, I mean. In any case, they won't be a problem anymore. And if they're honest in trading her care for her labour and supplies which we have pledged to procure for them, which is certainly a possibility, then we shall have no problems.
I managed to trade one of the savages a troll-hatchet in return for medical supplies and provisions. They even fed our mounts for us. Hah! I'll bet that a proper Hircali haggler could probably sell them the boots off their own feet for a lifetime indenture contract. If I had a flask of spirits and a handful of glass beads, I bet that I could buy this ruin right out from under them.
Day 11, addendum: Bah. Conscience pangs me. It occured to me that even if the savages are on the up-and-up, they might attempt to remove the stitches from Subj. V's mouth in a misguided attempt to help her, never considering that the stitches were put there (and left there!) for a good reason. Some back at the Academy might say that such idiocy from a barbarian deserves whatever consequences might result, but I don't think that trying to help someone should come at the cost of 24 lives -- even if they are just savages.
What a sentimental fool I can be sometimes. Hasn't my soft heart gotten me into enough trouble already?
An interesting note: The barbarians settled here and play at civilization not because they are trying to emulate their betters, but rather because one of their animals, a great stag that they refer to as their "Emperor," was lost. What amusing barbarian gibberish. I'm sure that old Prof. 'Squinty-lips' back home would love to hear about it.
Day 12
Arrived at our destination, a military fort. Spoke to the HSIC, who seemed very competent (though I'm concerned that he might be a bit prejudiced against Hircali). We had a nice chat and I managed to get the local doctor to identify several local herbs that were part of the medical supplies that I got from the savages. Also, I apparently own a jar of jam.
Dinner was good. Subj. III tried to convince me that our meal had been poisoned. I doubted that, but purged myself just in case. One can never be too careful. Both Subj. III and his sister seemed to indulge over-much. I was wary of the local brew -- you never know what goes into the local rotgut -- but if the Black Bannerman (who also drank) is fine tomorrow, I may try a taste. Oh, how I long for the sharp tang of a wine from the homeland. It's been too long.
The door is barred and I've pushed the desk up against it, and I've managed to jam the shutters with my chain. Neither Bing nor myself can seem to find any secret passages in the walls, and my room lacks a fireplace. I think that tonight I'll finally be able to sleep soundly.
Day 13
I managed to avert a small disaster today by cunningly turning an attempted mutiny against itself. A small group of locals (perhaps a half-dozen), with a Hircali as their leader, attempted to desert this morning. When the efforts of the HSIC, the Black Bannerman AND one of my erstwhile patients (Subj. II, to be exact) to quell this rebellion failed, I was forced to take a hand.
I succeeded in reminding the mutiny's ringleader of his duty as a proud member of our race, while at the same time changing the context of the dispute from men v. trolls to Hircali v. locals. As the ringleader was the only Hircali in the group, his comrades quickly turned against him. He's in for a rough time in the next two months (all that remains of his tour of duty), but it's nothing less than he deserves. His behavior was shameful. Anyway, I could tell that the HSIC was about to exercise a more forceful option, so I undoubtedly saved the poor bastard's life, though the cowardly imbecile doesn't appreciate it a whit. Two months of hazing is a small price to pay for one's own life.
The locals probably won't be too kindly disposed towards me in the next couple of days, but who cares? We're leaving the day after tomorrow, to escort Beregond's supplies to a point where he can pick them up, but on this side of the troll picket (which he can cross with impunity, apparently). The Black Bannerman and a couple of scouts will carry word to him as to where exactly he needs to find us.
The local brew, incidentally, is as vile as one might imagine. The subjects complain of headaches, dry-mouth and all of the other expected symptoms. For whatever reason, though, they decline my hangover remedy. Fools.
Enjoy the journal entry and 2 Artha to those not playing in my game if they can figure out any of Wilhelm's character traits :) Additionally, at the end of this series of adventures I will have a Trait Vote which i will probably allow the folks on this list to participate in having a pretty good representation of who the characters are (albeit through a rather sckewed filter). more on that in later posts.
Character Notes:
Sub. I - Abby
Sub II - Trill
Sub III - Glimm
Sub IV - Roar
Sub V - Sierra
Excerpted from the journal of Sir Wilhelm Menmatmet, Scholar and Physick.
Date: Unknown. Temp. designation: Day 1
Today is the first day that I find myself truly clear of all of the aftereffects of the bicentipod venom, and so I shall resume my notes. May posterity find them useful.
Distressingly, I find myself in the company of my former patients, specifically subjects B2, B3, B5, C1 and D14. For the sake of simplicity, I shall re-designate them Subj. I-V, respectively. Of our small group, I seem to have the most difficulty shaking the venom's hold. It's not suprising -- to overcome an intellect as prodigious as my own, the dosage required must have been considerable.
We find ourselves in some godsforsaken northern outpost manned by a handful of barbarians and -- oddly enough -- an aged woman of my own race. She may, however, be of mixed descent. These people have treated us unaccountably well. I wonder what they want from us. We have little to offer.
The initial reality-adjustment period seems to be progressing fairly well. With the exception of some minor aberrations, everyone seems to have grasped the basic concept of what's happening to us. There is another in hiding with us -- a Black Bannerman who calls himself Roland. He seems to be taking everything that we've been talking about in good stride. I am suspicious of his motives.
Hiding -- this brings me to another point, which is the distressing proximity of a massive (1500+ indiv.) troll war-encampment within spitting distance of where we are. This is exactly the kind of situation that pacifists and apologists like Subj. I-III have helped create. Disgusting. Whatever possessed me to help them in the first place?
All subj. (with the logical exception of Subj. III) as well as the Black Bannerman seemed quite disgusted with the reality of Subj. IV. I must admit that I was nonplussed the first time I didn't hear his heartbeat myself (at least they didn't have to watch him being made!), but their reaction is very interesting considering the realities of our conjoined hallucination. I find this a hopeful sign -- adaptation to real-world reality seems to be quite advanced.
Based on their reactions when I began to broach the topic, I don't think that they're quite ready to learn just exactly what Subj. V really is. Just as long as they don't unstitch her mouth, we should be fine.
Day 3
Simple arithmetic has made several things obvious. One, the trolls MUST move south in order to feed themselves. Our cities will have to take to arms. Two, this outpost of (relative) civilization that we currently occupy cannot hold out the winter without outside aid. What they want from us becomes clear. Instead of risking their own barbarous necks, they intend to send us out to secure sufficient provisioning to allow them to last the winter. I suppose that that's not an entirely reasonable request, considering the trouble that they're going to to shield us.
Their leader, a barbarian who calls himself "Beregond" and who, against all rational thought, has some immunity from troll molestation, has volunteered to lead our mounts ahead of us so that we shall have a better chance to sneak through troll lines. Irregardless of this, I am not sanguine about our chances of slipping through unmolested. While I don't know very much about how much woods-cunning the beasts possess, their obvious animalistic nature implies that their senses might be superior to ours, and therefore they might be more suited to track us than a similar group of humans. Fortunately, I doubt that their organization lends itself to regular patrols, &c.
Day 3, Addendum: Discussions with the Black Bannerman implies that trolls are well-adapted nocturnals, meaning cold camps and travel by daylight. I was right. Trolls are probably the only foes that we're going to have to deal with -- Beregond's camp doesn't seem to be able to spare the skilled manpower to send a party down our backtrail in order to ensure that we don't abandon their mission. Then again, if Beregond is even remotely intelligent, he'll have concealed his true strength from us anyway. If Beregond is even the real leader, which is far from certain.
How HAS this outpost managed to survive so long so close to the trolls, anyway? Beregond spins a tale of out-wrestling a troll chieftan and thereby earning the beasts' respect, but I don't find that a likely tale at all. Could something darker be at work here?
Then again, if something truly dark in the infernal sense WERE at work, I'm sure that Subj. III would have sniffed it out and allied himself with it already.
Day 8
It appears that I was wrong re: trollish organizational capabilities. Today we came upon a defensive line consisting of a near half-dozen gigantic (albeit primitive) watchtowers that may or may not have continued in either direction. And as I witnessed trolls building one, there seems to be no doubt that the beasts possess some sort of rudimentary engineering capability. Damn. They're even MORE of a threat than I had imagined. They've probably picked up our back-trail by now. I'm sure that we're being followed.
In the meantime, everyone seems to have adjusted fine to functioning within the real-world. As I suspected, our consensual reality is now only very rarely referred to -- blocking it from their minds is the first stage of healing for the weaker-minded. Of course, considering my position, I am neither allowed nor do I require such a luxury.
Sneaking past the picket line was aided by misty weather and the distraction that some of the more hasty subj. provided. It also provided interesting data on the limitations of Subj. IV. Though capable of following simple instructions, it seems that finer motor control is still beyond him -- if I recall early theories correctly, there was some doubt as to whether his lack of dexterity was an inherent defect or simply a result of insufficient time to adjust to his new condition.
While fully adapted to current realities, it seems as if the personality overlays which we placed upon some of the subj. while inside their conjoined hallucination (and, in the case of subj. III, personality traits which seemed to spontaneously develop) are holding. The former pacifist isn't spouting her nonviolent filth anymore, and the apologists don't seem all that apologetic when faced with actual trolls in the actual malevolent, anthrophagic flesh. Even Subj. V seems free of the taint that once held sway over her, though I'm watching her stitches carefully.
Subj. III is... just creepy. It's not the most scientific or professional term, I know, but it's nevertheless accurate. Still, I won't let such subjectivity taint the observational process.
Day 9
We should be coming upon our steeds presently.
Day 9, addendum: We found our steeds, and also a troll party laying in ambush. At first I thought Beregond might have intentionally sold us out, but if that were the case we would have been troll-meat yesterday. Still, it's very possible that he was tracked and the ambush laid upon HIS back-trail.
There were only 4 trolls, fortunately, and with no small effort on my part we managed to rout them fairly quickly. One got away, but two fell before my blade and a third fell to the preternatural (infernal?) capabilities of subj. III. Rather depressingly, of the five highly trained anti-troll commandos that I've (grudgingly) adopted as my travelling companions, only one of them seems the least bit efficacious against trolls! Even the Black Bannerman could do nothing but dodge meat-hooks and land useless pinprick after pinprick until I came to his rescue.
It seems ironic to me that only I, who was never originally intended to be part pf the anti-troll team in the first place, was the only one that could do anything but the most superficial of damage to the monsters.
Subj. II sustained some cracked ribs, and lacking proper instruments or supplies I couldn't do very much for her but do my best to set them non-invasively, tend the scrapes and wrap some bandages around her chest. I don't think that she's bleeding internally (though if she dies in a week, we'll know for sure), but considering her slight frame and the fact that we're all still somewhat ravaged from our period of long deprivation, it may take her months to heal -- and even then, she'll probably still feel it on stormy days.
For all that I was the pivotal figure in yesterday's battle, I suffered nothing worse than a bruise. Still, it was a close call indeed -- a crossbow bolt took my helm off and almost skewered my head like a grape on a kebab. Though the fault for this lies mainly with Bing, who secured for me the defective piece of armor (yes, Bing again. Why do I tolerate such nincompoopery?), I can't help but blame myself as well. Next time I won't trust the task of procuring adequate protection for my skull to a creature with a brain only slightly larger than my clenched fist.
I didn't get a good chance to examine the troll's crossbow, as he was the one that fled from my martial prowess, but if it's of troll manufacture (as I suspect it is), then their technology is even more advanced than I had suspected. Double-damn.
Even now I can feel his beady eyes burning holes in my back. Is he out there? The rain is beginning to come down HARD, so I'm no more capable of seeing him than he is of seeing me. This is a mixed blessing.
In slightly disturbing news, I seem to have suffered a pressure-based reversion to my conjoined-hallucination reality. It only lasted for a few seconds, but I'm still rather disturbed. Lasting side-effects were only to be expected, of course, especially considering the excessive dosage that I recieved, but it was nevertheless embarrassing. Perhaps nobody noticed.
Day 10
Subj. V, always the physically frailest of our sad and sorry bunch, has rapidly developed a fever that I fear might be fatal unless we can get her treatment and a warm, dry place to recover for a few days. The Black Bannerman claims to have seen a ruin up ahead that may provide some shelter from this gale. Of course, what he fails to consider is that all of the nasties currently inhabiting these hills have ALSO decided to take shelter in the ruins. Chances are it's overrun by bandits. Or trolls. Or undead. Or, more likely, undead bandit trolls.
That was a joke.
Mostly.
Day 10, addendum: I'm almost SURE that we're being followed.
Day 10, addendum II:
The ruins are indeed inhabited, seemingly by a bunch of indigenous nomadic savages pretending at settled civilization. Bing, once more proving his stunning incompetence, managed to get captured while attempting to light a torch. I swear, I don't know why I bother with him sometimes.
Subj. I-III, as well as the Black Bannerman, have decided to parlay with the inhabitants of the ruin, and have (amazingly) been snookered out of their weapons and mounts with only a nebulous promise of safe-conduct in return. What utter nincompoops they can be. I shall have to revise my estimate of the Black Bannerman's abilities even further downward. Funny. I seem to recall the Black Banner Company being, on the whole, much more competent during the war.
I wonder if he's what he claims to be?
They'll not catch me, though. I let them think that they lulled me into a fake sense of security by 'allowing' me to sleep next to their staircase, and ransoming Bing with my horse, but they'll not catch me unawares. I've rigged the place with cunning traps and neither Bing nor I will sleep tonight. When they come to take me, they'll find me a bit more than they bargained for.
I'm currently using the ranger's variation on the old hedgehog-blanket trick to keep myself awake. I don't like it very much. Note: Collect hedgehog pelts at earliest opportunity.
Subj. III seems to be muttering to himself a lot lately. Lasting effects from our ordeal are not unexpected, but I shall have to watch him closely nevertheless.
Day 11
Savages seem to not be hostile, though they still could be lulling us into false sense of security. We've managed to convince them into tending Subj. V until we return. They may be sincere, but possible that they intend her for the stewpot. Heh. I'd like to see them try. If their intentions are malefic, undoubtedly one of the primitives won't be able to resist the temptation and will remove her mouth-stitches. Should they do that, Subj. V will reduce this ruin to a heap of rubble. That is, even more rubble than there is now. She'll make smaller rubble out of the rubble already here, I mean. In any case, they won't be a problem anymore. And if they're honest in trading her care for her labour and supplies which we have pledged to procure for them, which is certainly a possibility, then we shall have no problems.
I managed to trade one of the savages a troll-hatchet in return for medical supplies and provisions. They even fed our mounts for us. Hah! I'll bet that a proper Hircali haggler could probably sell them the boots off their own feet for a lifetime indenture contract. If I had a flask of spirits and a handful of glass beads, I bet that I could buy this ruin right out from under them.
Day 11, addendum: Bah. Conscience pangs me. It occured to me that even if the savages are on the up-and-up, they might attempt to remove the stitches from Subj. V's mouth in a misguided attempt to help her, never considering that the stitches were put there (and left there!) for a good reason. Some back at the Academy might say that such idiocy from a barbarian deserves whatever consequences might result, but I don't think that trying to help someone should come at the cost of 24 lives -- even if they are just savages.
What a sentimental fool I can be sometimes. Hasn't my soft heart gotten me into enough trouble already?
An interesting note: The barbarians settled here and play at civilization not because they are trying to emulate their betters, but rather because one of their animals, a great stag that they refer to as their "Emperor," was lost. What amusing barbarian gibberish. I'm sure that old Prof. 'Squinty-lips' back home would love to hear about it.
Day 12
Arrived at our destination, a military fort. Spoke to the HSIC, who seemed very competent (though I'm concerned that he might be a bit prejudiced against Hircali). We had a nice chat and I managed to get the local doctor to identify several local herbs that were part of the medical supplies that I got from the savages. Also, I apparently own a jar of jam.
Dinner was good. Subj. III tried to convince me that our meal had been poisoned. I doubted that, but purged myself just in case. One can never be too careful. Both Subj. III and his sister seemed to indulge over-much. I was wary of the local brew -- you never know what goes into the local rotgut -- but if the Black Bannerman (who also drank) is fine tomorrow, I may try a taste. Oh, how I long for the sharp tang of a wine from the homeland. It's been too long.
The door is barred and I've pushed the desk up against it, and I've managed to jam the shutters with my chain. Neither Bing nor myself can seem to find any secret passages in the walls, and my room lacks a fireplace. I think that tonight I'll finally be able to sleep soundly.
Day 13
I managed to avert a small disaster today by cunningly turning an attempted mutiny against itself. A small group of locals (perhaps a half-dozen), with a Hircali as their leader, attempted to desert this morning. When the efforts of the HSIC, the Black Bannerman AND one of my erstwhile patients (Subj. II, to be exact) to quell this rebellion failed, I was forced to take a hand.
I succeeded in reminding the mutiny's ringleader of his duty as a proud member of our race, while at the same time changing the context of the dispute from men v. trolls to Hircali v. locals. As the ringleader was the only Hircali in the group, his comrades quickly turned against him. He's in for a rough time in the next two months (all that remains of his tour of duty), but it's nothing less than he deserves. His behavior was shameful. Anyway, I could tell that the HSIC was about to exercise a more forceful option, so I undoubtedly saved the poor bastard's life, though the cowardly imbecile doesn't appreciate it a whit. Two months of hazing is a small price to pay for one's own life.
The locals probably won't be too kindly disposed towards me in the next couple of days, but who cares? We're leaving the day after tomorrow, to escort Beregond's supplies to a point where he can pick them up, but on this side of the troll picket (which he can cross with impunity, apparently). The Black Bannerman and a couple of scouts will carry word to him as to where exactly he needs to find us.
The local brew, incidentally, is as vile as one might imagine. The subjects complain of headaches, dry-mouth and all of the other expected symptoms. For whatever reason, though, they decline my hangover remedy. Fools.