User Tools

Site Tools


martigan

Martigan

The last thing you remember with any clarity is fleeing through a swamp. Where you were was completely unknown, and what you were fleeing from was a vague impression, like a dream half remembered. You recall a dungeon, and knights in full plate with antlered helms. You remember hearing others dragged from their cells and their screams, before they vanished forever. And you remember the brand they gave you, which you can still see now… the image of a stag's head burned into the flesh on the back of your hand.

You're not entirely sure how you escaped from that place, but you ran through brackish, hip-deep water and gnarled, moss covered trees for what seemed like days to get away from them. With nothing but the armor and clothes on your back and your weapon sheathed in your belt, you headed in a random direction and hoped for the best.

Sadly, that wasn't what you found.

Your journey through the swamp was arduous and terrifying. Weird monsters and horrific beasts assaulted you at every turn. Sometimes you fought and won. Other times you ran for your life. One such encounter put you face to face against a creature 8 feet tall, covered in knotted, ropy muscles and dripping with a black, tar-like slime. That was one of the times you ran. The hit it scored on your arm as you fled was deep, drawing blood. The longer you ran, the more tired you felt, your vision beginning to dim.

You don't remember blacking out, but when you regained consciousness, you found yourself stripped of your armor and weapons, surrounded by soldiers and a strange priest with red skin and horns.

“He's awake. You!” he barked at one of the soldiers. “Take him below. Tell the guards on level 4 to put him in one of the empty cells and stow his gear. The Warden will decide what to do with him.”

You were hauled to your feet and shoved forward, hands bound by manacles behind your back. Though your wounds seemed to be gone, you felt weak from days of hunger, of fleeing and fighting without rest, and were in no shape to resist.

The guards force marched you down a set of stone steps and into what seemed like a guard booth, leading to yet another dungeon.

martigan.txt · Last modified: 2018/01/02 00:24 (external edit)