While on a seed hunting expedition, I ended up in Jaanaford and found myself on the receiving end of a most unusual comment. I stopped in at the local tavern, a lovely outdoor affair, where I partook of some refreshing ale. It was a lively evening and I soon found myself engaged in some peculiar conversation about a Satyr in need of assistance.

The mere folly of such talk upset my libation.

“Satyr’s don’t ask humans for help. They are rather insistent the lot of us are puny and weak. I dare say they have leveled several unflattering charges at my feet as well. All completely undeserved mind you,” I said.

“Merely passing along the information Outlander. The poor beggar is in that alcove behind the waterfall. Not telling what sort of mischief he’s up to. I know he’s not up to any washing, you can still him on the wind. Probably a deadly trap designed to lure someone in so he can thrash them and eat them. But, if you’re looking for something to do dressed up in that metal outfit, he could be someone to talk to,” the fellow said as he slipped away into the night.

“Well, if a Satyr is in need of help, perhaps I should investigate the matter further. It might curry some favor with his ill-tempered ilk and that might be of assistance later,” I said aloud as I realized I was talking to myself again and took my leave.

Just as the stranger had indicated, there was a Satyr pensively milling about behind the waterfall and he did indeed look to be in need of assistance.

“No need help from puny human!” he bellowed at my inquiry.

“Well, you say that now,” I replied. “But word in town says you are in need of some assistance and I might be just the misguided soul to render you aid. Perhaps you don’t want to speak in front of the faun, I understand. But, if you care to step this way, you may tell me your troubles in confidence.”

“Human talk funny!” he bellowed.

“Speak plain!” I yelled back. They had used the phrase on me in the past, so I figured I would give it a go.

“Need mediator in labor despite,” he said. “Agitated foreman causing miners to riot and stop production. Revolting miners is bad business. You stop foreman,” he said. “Now go away!” he said walking back within earshot of the faun.

I gave him a wink and a tap of my nose to let him know I understood his plight. “I will do your bidding my master!” I exclaimed, keeping up the ruse.

I have been in several mines of this realm and they are all the same. They’re dank, dirty and smell of dung. This was no different and no sooner had I entered than a Satry Mage blasted me in the face with a fireball.

“That’s no way to welcome a guest!” I shouted. “That really hurt!”

The cursed miscreant merely sent another one at me, which hurt just as badly as the first and brought tears to my eyes. Suspecting a third was on it’s way and that it would hurt in equal measure to the first two, I lunged in the direction of the projectile, swinging wildly and furiously in every direction there is a name for. This took the mage off guard and thus, I was able to land several heavy blows with the sword, smiting the ingrate to the ground.

Seeing their Satyr overlord in a heap, the fauns scurried down the tunnels. I followed suit and snaked my way down after them. I met with several dead ends and several Satyr lying in wait.

I was undeterred and worked my way further into the mine. I did stop on occasion to take my bearings and sneak a few veins of iron and silver into my satchel. No one was looking and I wanted a little something for the effort I was making.

The tunnels soon opened up into a mighty cavern. There were wooden bridges and pathways that kept leading down. Several Satyr brutes tried to stop me, but a well timed stumble sent them over the edge into the frigid water below.

I kept working my way down through all the twists and turns until I met with a rusted, but sturdy iron gate.

“Curses! I need a key. That damnable Satyr didn’t tell me I needed a key. Where in blazes will I find one?”

My pondering was interrupted as the alarm had been raised at my intrusion. Scores of Satry and faun came out to stop my progress. I didn’t go quietly and they had a rough time rounding me up as I made steady progress with my slash and weave technique.

The bulky beasts were no match for my agility. Nor are they adept swimmers and I slithered into one of the many waterways at the bottom. From the opposite shore, I recovered my senses, unleashed a few fire arrows, then circled back for an assault. I hid in the shadows, giving them the illusion that I had drowned or retreated. Then in a fury, I lunged from the darkness and dealt many crushing blows.

In hand to hand combat, I was the victor. But I was no closer to opening that miserable locked gate than when I had started. It must be around somewhere, but who was in possession?

I then retraced my steps. Perhaps it was in one of the work areas I passed on my way in? Or perhaps stacked up amongst the crates? Try as I might, it did not reveal itself. No matter how many desks I toppled or crates I smashed, no key could be found. Perhaps the untrusting devils keep it on their personage?

“How many of you wretched Satyr must I knock into the ground before I find the key that opens this nondescript door that leads to parts unknown that I may or may not have need to be in?”

The answer turned out to be more than I could count. For what seemed like hours, I pummeled, attacked, parried and put myself to the hazard. I took hundreds of brutal knocks to my person before the key wielding Satyr I needed finally made an appearance.

At the point of nearly insurmountable fatigue, I looted his pockets and finally snatched the key away. Stumbling ahead, I made for the metal gate and tried the key. The wave of relief when it turned in the lock was immeasurable.

I quickly shut the gate behind me and collapsed into a corner. I would need a few moments before I carried on and found the Foreman, if this was indeed the place and not some diabolical ploy of misdirection.


Good evening! Perhaps you are the Satyr chap the mysterious stranger at the tavern told me about


Curses and damnation! You could have set me head on fire with that!


Rickety bridge. Sinister Satyr. I must be going in the right direction.


Oh, is that an unattended coil of rope? Don’t mind if I do.


Hmm, mysterious and unattended door. That must be the place.

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

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