Scourge of Nujel'm - tales of a drifter.
Posted: Fri Jan 20, 2012 12:52 am
Nujel'm... the city of golden sand lost in the distance of the ocean. Here, perhaps here I could escape the wretched clutches of my haunting master. The self proclaimed king... Haggard.
It had been weeks since I was pulled from the western shores. When the towns people first found me they thought me dead, and just as well. I had half hoped to die out at sea. Even the dreadful god of the sea pirates would have made a more suitable tyrant over my soul, or perhaps Calipso would have my soul....
Regardless the townsfolk thought me completely mad as I tried to run myself through on one of their weapons. My last act of bravery was foolishly obstructed.
Alas, in my attempts to flee I again have only served my master's will with appalling, godawful finality. An eerie silence quickly fell on the island town only days after my arrival. Many of the wiser townsfolk - primarily those who made permanent residence at the tavern - quickly realized that my attempt to run myself through was not an act of lunacy, but of sheer terror. It wasn't long before townsfolk began mysteriously vanishing in the night; not the drifters like myself, but long established members of this island town. Unfortunately, by virtue of their unyielding devotion to justice, the elders of the city would not allow me to be executed in mob-like fashion that I saw in the seething glares as I walked the streets... instead they tried to assure everyone that no evil could exist that would merit taking my life, nor that could defeat their will to live.
Perhaps after the events of today they shall know what true horror has been the daily theater before my eyes... If you read this, look to the cemetery, from thence comes this vile plague!
- a drifter
It had been weeks since I was pulled from the western shores. When the towns people first found me they thought me dead, and just as well. I had half hoped to die out at sea. Even the dreadful god of the sea pirates would have made a more suitable tyrant over my soul, or perhaps Calipso would have my soul....
Regardless the townsfolk thought me completely mad as I tried to run myself through on one of their weapons. My last act of bravery was foolishly obstructed.
Alas, in my attempts to flee I again have only served my master's will with appalling, godawful finality. An eerie silence quickly fell on the island town only days after my arrival. Many of the wiser townsfolk - primarily those who made permanent residence at the tavern - quickly realized that my attempt to run myself through was not an act of lunacy, but of sheer terror. It wasn't long before townsfolk began mysteriously vanishing in the night; not the drifters like myself, but long established members of this island town. Unfortunately, by virtue of their unyielding devotion to justice, the elders of the city would not allow me to be executed in mob-like fashion that I saw in the seething glares as I walked the streets... instead they tried to assure everyone that no evil could exist that would merit taking my life, nor that could defeat their will to live.
Perhaps after the events of today they shall know what true horror has been the daily theater before my eyes... If you read this, look to the cemetery, from thence comes this vile plague!
- a drifter