"Join the army they said...."

“Life in the guild was never quite as I expected. And I never intended to join at all. But good intentions dont always put food on the table. I did what I had too, and I got pretty good at it. The bow was my tool. No, no I never killed anyone back then, that wouldnt be proper, but I did do something no one else did. It wasnt easy, at all, but but I got the art down. A few of the boys would get things started, start a ruckus or such. Get our target moving, bag full a gold shaking at his waist. Best was when the boys would steal his coat, led him to me.

One finely placed shot was all it took, nail that bag a gold right against some barrel or wall or such. Most of the time the sucker wouldnt even notice, even if he did it was too late, my boys had the bag and the arrow by then. Slip into the crowd they would.

Im not to bad with a bow if I say so myself.

But those days are gone now. Those big bad brutes from up north are heading down again. Everyone’s afraid again. Got all of Seran in a bad way. I couldnt stay and do nothing, I figure I can help, me and this bow of mine. Might get to kill something too. So went and joined the army, bonafied archer of Bastion I am.

But they had a surprise for me, got transferred to a new division. Didnt tell me much, but I found out why. They call them “airships” if you could ever believe such a thing. I was to be on one. The captain was Lord Nebin himself! A halfman of no small stature!

And that aint the half of it! Turns out those hordes from up north headed to Merith first, take on them imperials. But Lord Nebin had a suprise from them. Something to kill them real dead. And we was sent to test it. Ill never forget that night. I went through 3 quivers, and it was damn hard to see at times, but I did my fair share of killing. Not as much as Lord Nebin course. He through these potions over he did. Chocked those buggers to death. The second run was scary though, almost got knocked out of the sky by those fireballs, damn mages. Think they are smart with all that fancy book learning. I hope I hit one.

We got back alright, thanks to Lord Nebin, and we docked at thy flying castle. (OH YA!, we had a flying castle too!) I was all shook up by then, one hell of a night. But Lord Nebin gave me a drink to calm my nerves, called it… “swamp water”. Guess Ill give it a try."

~William “Rat’s Eye” Hopper, Bonafied archer of Bastion

Invasion of Mareth

I was a mild summer’s morning when dawn broke and the earth shattered.

Two hundred centuriae guarded the rock maze of Mareth’s Western Pass. Thirty and three legions of monsters oozed across the surface of the land. The filth from their gang was so immense that clouds grew dark above them, ground water grew fetid below them, and animals and plants alike grew diseased and rotted as they slowly devoured the land.

Like an arrow being released from a pulled bow, so did the legions release from their horde and splash against the defenders of The Pass. Three arrows were released at the wall of steel and stone. Thirty thousand arrows were released into the swarm. The soldiers arms grew tired from the carnage they unleashed. The scum’s ranks could not tire, their forces were dying before they could hardly swing a sword twice.

After sunset, night would not come. Small suns burst across the acres of blood and bones as another arrow was released. Arrows, acid, lightning, and hail volleyed across the field of death. On the horizon, fires erupted inside the belly of the horde followed by ghastly coughing and dropping. There was finally a break from the madness. A moment to collapse from exhaustion and let fatigue drag the brave men into dreams of peace and softness with their loved ones. Relief was jerked from the heroes as an unholy fire exploded across their ranks. The fire took everything from where it burned, even their souls. The pass is lost…

A first time for everything.

“Yes, yes little ones, right in the mist of the nobles! Slit his own throat did he! The panic! The curses! …But you know, the fact that their king was now one of the undead was only the second worst thing to happen to those dirty nobles that day. The worst was he took half of all they had, gold, property, and resources! HA to see that look on their faces!

Oh may, OH may. I have seen some things in my day laddies, mountains as long as the land, caves so deep took me a month to climb back out, hell, Ive seen a half-ling kill a stormgiant! But Ill never forget that day, oh no.

…What? Was he evil? OH you mean the king!? Little ones I know this might seem a tad hard to believe, but no, Kheldar was not evil. Not as far as I could tell at least. He had been changed yes, cursed you might say, doomed to undeath, but he was not and evil man. Dont believe me still? Well, I tell you this then. The paladin, Korban, looked into Kheldar’s heart he did, looked right into his cursed soul…. I can only imagine the fear, the horror, the… sadness Korban must have felt that day. Yet he, stayed his hand from his sword. He had felt no malice in the king that day. Now THAT, is saying something. Ha ha ha, oh if you’d known the type of man he was, you’d understand."

He who walks alone.
“I could see it in their faces, even in Nebin’s as he told me in his “matter of fact” tone. Another confrontation with Kanzerin…, our burden grew heaver. Worst for Flinn himself, Kanzerin held the cause and the “solution” to the affliction. What could we do now? Press forward it would seem, and yet, I find myself in darker corridors than before. There are many branches in my path. Each new one seems to go on and on. The same cold walls, the ever dimming candles, and worse of all, the stillness of the air. It reminds me of that dread chamber in the underdark. I am lost and alone, and yet… I am not.

I push onward.

Many things wait for me in these haunted halls. I do the best I know to. I follow the brightest lights, but sometimes they all look the same. As if they are all about to go out. Sometimes I am the only light there. But my light too has been put out once already.

My friends walk in this place too, but we must each find his own path. We will all meet at the end, this I know, but entering from different doors.

Until then I walk on.

Someone, or… something walks nearby. I can feel it, or maybe, them? Its hard to tell at times. I dont know what they want from me, and its colder now.

They whisper, and I walk.

- Journal of Alek Korban. Officer’s records of Haven.
Nebin and a Storm Giant from the perspective of Flinn

“You’re going to do what?!”

Flinn's inner monologue concerning the slaying of Glitterfang, Black Dragon

Facing down an ancient black dragon.

This is what’s to be expected of such fool hardy individuals such as ourselves; but then again, you don’t earn the title “The Saviors of Serin” by just sitting in the local pub, drinking the local vintage, and consorting with the barmaids that works at said estabishment. You earn such titles by jumping into whatever situation that presents itself, no matter how dire the consequences are, with the courage and selfless determination that makes ordinary men into the stitching of the fabric of history…though with company like ourselves, we tend to start off just sitting in the local pub, drinking the local vintage, and consorting with the barmaids that works at said establishment; then some frightened villager storms through the door claiming that a warband of orcs is heading straight for the hamlet. At least that’s how it all started. Anyway, I’m digressing. Black Dragon. Possible certain death.

I would have to consult the historical records of Serin, but, I’m fairly certain that the King of Bastion has never been involved in so many diplomatic missions in which his very life were at stake. Just a short time ago, I was teleporting myself and my friends to an underground city overrun by demons gone mad. Of course, one of us died…but then he got better. Now, we track an ancient dragon gone mad. It appears that madness is a common theme that keeps repeating as of late. Mad demons, mad dragons, and mad Quin, Kenzerin. I would be lying if I didn’t think our luck is beginning to wain; though through some bizarre happenstance, we always seem to come out on top…especially myself, Vatroci, and Nebin. Korbin, freshly ressurected, seems to already want to get back into the thick of it. Which is astonishing to me due to the fact that he imploded on my behalf. I’ll have to speak with Price on the matter of granting Alec a parcel of land for his trouble, it seems to proper thing to do.

When I think back to the beginning, I didn’t think I would be in the postion that I am now. It almost seems like yesterday that I was riding on that caravan to Feldway. A freshly empowered Warlock, just ready to take on the world, and research his book on The Glassed Hill. I don’t think I’ll ever get to finish that book, since being the King of Bastion requires me not to have an abundance of free time.


I’m dying. Thoughout all the endeavors that my friends and I have gone through, orc warbands, demonic invasions, and the Cataclysm; it always seemed that we had just enough time to make plans to counteract these obsticles. Now, for the first time, I don’t have any time left. There is so much left to do and I don’t know if I’m going to be alive long enough to make sure loose ends are tied up. I know Nebin will do his best to make sure that my wishes are fulfilled (with a little revisions here and there, for it is his custom), I know Korbin will make sure that Set Solaris are prepared for Kenzerin’s return, and Vatroci will die with a blade in his hands rather than flee from what’s coming down the road. Then there is me, this damned malady eating away at me, and there isn’t anything that I can do to stop it. Perhaps this Glitterfang will put me out of my misery. Well, I didn’t see that one coming; wonderful, acid breath. I suppose I need to teleport away from this monster and then repay his kindness with a bit of my own.

Nevermind. Damn, that ended quick.

Of dragons and halflings.

To slay a dragon is never an easy thing. I would tend to agree, but for our heroes, they sure made it look easy. Or at least the legend goes as such.

Many factors must be considered to find the truth, or at least the whole story. For in this case the legend and the truth are not all that far apart.

Many say they were lucky. Oh yes they were lucky, but there is more to it than that. Many say the dragon was lazy. And he was, but show me how many brave souls are lined up to fight one, toe too massive toe? Hmmm? I didnt think so.

In truth, our heroes were lucky, and the dragon was lazy. But I would like to point one thing out. The dragon knew from the moment he landed that these were no normal men (or halfmen) and when he did realize his folly, it was too late.

They killed him before he could fly away. Luck or not, who else has killed a dragon in less than a minute? We dont write legends about just anyone. Take it from this old man, the legends dont do our heroes justice. The path they walked was unlike any other walked before, or after.

But now let this old man rest. I have not the strength to continue, for now. Until next time my children.

Death, Life, and Booze!

" I find myself humbled yet again by the sheer will power of my friends. Nothing it seems will stand in their way. Not for very long at least. And yet it is their humility that amazes me most. I have seen feats beyond imagination brought to pass by their hands. The skill, strength and power they wield is a force few can reckon with, but this time, it would seem, all that would not be enough. Between them and I was death itself.

Many would have called their actions less than politicly sound. Many still do not trust my people, but my friends did not hesitate. They knew what it would take to bring me back, and they did it. Despite the risks.

Now we go to Kirkland, to the halfling tribes. I can scarcely say what new adventures we will find. One thing is sure however, there will be booze! As is proper when dealing with our halfling brothers."

-Alek Korban

A second of Eternity.

Not all had gone acording to plan, but all was not yet lost. The Heros had stood face to face with the Demon Lord between them and the cryistal, but now the prize was their’s and it was time to leave. Still, the Warth of the Demon Lord had only yet begun. The treasure was lost but the thives were his. They would pay for such insolence, forever would They and their crime be smeared across the walls of the Demon Lord’s domain. The pale one of the three would be first, for it was him to cast down the great insult.

Dark energy filled the room as the dread Lord begain his assult. It would be quick yes, but few are the fates worse than this. Hell knew no bounds in the hands of this Demon.

One can scarsely comprehend the thought that first crossed King Kheldars mind as darkness pored down upon him. And yet, all was not as it seemed. Darkness became Light, cold became Warmth. Who would have thought death at the hands of this Demon would be so peaceful? Today, however, was not Kheldars day to die after all. It was then he noticed the hand on his shoulder. Perhaps Kheldar sensed the source of the Light, or maybe, it was the alien shift in weight from the gauntlet behind him. Then the hand fell from his shoulder.

The Light faded, the cold returned, yet the moment for their exit was upon the Heroes. Seizing the opportunity Kheldar turned for his friends and found them. Yet, something was amiss, there lay the Paladin in Vatroci’s arms.

A flash of energy, the spell was cast. Torn from one place and cast into another the Heroes found their destination. One can only imagine the moment, they had done it. Victory. It was only then that true fear and horror entered their minds. Kheldar knew what dreadful spell the Demon Lord had last cast, and the armor of Korban laid very oddly in Vatroci’s and Kheldar’s grasp.

The silence was deafening.

King Flinn Kheldar's opening festival speech given before the outcome of the Thieves Guild semi-annual Capture the Crown contest

“The first thing that I wish to address is the fact that without the determination and the unbreakable spirit of the citizens of Bastion, this festival would not have been possible. From the very top of military leadership to the humble laborer, all of you played a part in helping repel the Demonhorde, the Archenemy, from destroying this great city, and for that I thank you. I must confess to you, my people, that you’ve made my duty as King of Bastion far more easier than I have ever anticipated. Thoughout the land of Verse, you’ll never find a finer people than those of the Nation of Bastion. You people inspire me to go above and beyond as a monarch. After The Breach, my companions and I were ordained by you as being “The Saviors of Serin”, and while I appreciate being referred to as such, I would have to disagree with that title. I say this because you are the Saviors of Serin! Without your zeal, all would have been lost.

A new age has been ushered in. The Cataclysm has caused a great deal of strife throughout the realm; dangers and obsticles that we have never faced before now lie before us, but I am not intimidated by this, for I see a great light in the distance. I see a fantastical new world to be built upon the ashes of the old. I see Bastion harnessing the power of this new world and bending it to our will. I see this city being the spearhead of a new type of thinking, for I dream of Serin being the greatest city in all of Verse. Now, before I let you, the great people of Bastion return to this festival that you’ve earned, I wish to share a part of this new world, this new dream, I present to you that first step…This is my gift to you…The Deathstorm."


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