With my presence of mind restored, I pressed on to look for the foreman the Satyr under the falls told me about. It didn’t take for me to find his henchmen. Or rather, it only took a few moments for them to locate me.

As soon as I left the comfort of my little corner, four Satyr bared down on me. The first blow to the head was indeed a surprise, but inflicted little damage, at least as far as I recall. The follow up blow to the head, was merely glancing, as I remember it. The third assault started to get the better of me and I veered off course into the makeshift scaffolding they had erected.

The upturned burlap sacks took the brunt of the next few hits, which gave me time to scramble to a place of safety and mount my counter attack. If I was on the move, they wouldn’t be so easily able to strike me down.

I leapt over the barrels, ran up the wooden loading ramp, hurled myself back down, kicked water into their faces from a nearby puddle, tore open a sack and threw it’s contents over them, then when they were bewildered by what my next devious attack would be, I ignited the sword and plunged directly at them.

They had no chance to avoid the debilitating damage of my strike. My chosen course was completely unpredictable and that mage was utterly stunned when my sword ran him through. His horror struck compatriot dropped to the floor like a sack of wet potatoes. But his look of confusion was wiped away as he caught fire crumpled to the floor.

Things were starting to look up. I ran straight toward the next mage, barely feeling that blistering fireball as it consumed me. I’m sure he expected me to drop to the ground and lay silent. It takes more than fire and common sense to stop me and I wrestled him to the ground.

Metal repels fire far better than the loin clothes those savages skulk around in, and he begged for mercy. My field of mercy was barren, so I had nothing to offer.

That left a single opponent, who was already reeling. A few jabs with the Stone Fist is all he could take.

But just when I thought it was safe, the barricade was thrust open and two Satyr came out to investigate the ruckus. Before they could fully comprehend the scene, I rushed in, sword blazing. They shrank back from the flames, which gave me the upper hand. And when I have the upper hand, crates get damaged and my enemies suffer debilitating humiliation!

I chased down the first Satyr, and while some may call it a less than honorable act, I stabbed that scalawag right in the back. But I interject, I had no choice, he wouldn’t hold still for the proper thrashing I was intent on delivering.

Realizing the debilitating nature of my fighting style, my other foe attempted his own escape. I would have none of that. I tracked his route and cut him off before he could get away. I had no choice but to leave him slumped on the floor.

“Despite how this looks and the trail of bodies and destruction I’ve left in my wake, I’ve been sent here to negotiate, so let’s get to it!” I said walking toward the foreman.

It was clear I was not a man to be trifled with, thus he immediately stated that he and his men had legitimate gripes that should be addressed.

“Oh yes, and what might they be? Come on, out with it!”

“The mines are cold and we want more heat!” he exclaimed.

“Wha?” I said with great confusion. “I’m sorry, say again? There is a tremendous amount of ringing in my ears at the moment and you have me at a terrible loss.”

“The mines are cold and we want more heat!” he said again.

“The mines are cold you say. Is that correct?”  I asked.

“Terrible conditions,” he added.

“Of course it’s cold. It’s a bloody mine! We’re underground! This isn’t some sort of vacation resort where the sun always shines, the wind gently rustles through the trees and someone appears every few minutes to top up your drink with a refreshing cocktail of fruits and spices. You have to labor! And by the very nature of the word, you have to be cold and miserable or your aren’t laboring correctly. I’m stunned by this petty grievance of yours!”

“We have other gripes as well!” he retorted.

“Well, let’s hear them,” I said. “I’m all ears. But, I hope they’re of more substance that what you just said.”

“We’re bored, we want to dance,” he admitted.

“Dance? You want to dance? What like sprites in the forest? Want me to get you a maypole and some lovely ribbon and have you go around in circles until you get giddy? Have you looked at your feet? What manner of dance step are you going to get into? I’m surprised the steward hasn’t taken the lash to every one you!”

My fury was peaking at this point.

“You mean to tell me, I risked my life and senselessly slaughtered all your kinsman so you can have heat and dance a bloody jig? That’s what this is all about?”

“Good point,” the Satyr mumbled. “Tell the steward we will get back to work.”

“For the love of the Oracle,” I said as I stormed off. “Curse on you and this whole stupid mine! I should have stayed at the open air tavern and had a lovely evening sipping ale and listening to the rushing water. But, no! I try and help out you lot and this is what happens! Senseless death and violence!”

The Satyr horde had been thinned by my initial visit, but there were a few who tried to stop my retreat. I was in no mood for their boasts and threats of bodily harm, so they each received a hearty punch to the throat as I continued on my way.

“Say Ho Hah again! I dare you!” I yelled.

Back in Jaanaford, intent on having a few stern words with the steward, he immediately deflected my verbal onslaught.

“The fact you are still alive means the foreman is going back to work, yes?” he said.

“Yes. I crushed his hopes and dreams of heat and dance. But, I have a bone to pick with you!” I said with a scowl that I hoped was intimidating.

“Very good, little human! Here is tiny human armor for your trouble. Now you must go!”

With that, he tossed the armor at me, which was quite a bit heavier than I expected.

“Very well, I accept this chest plate, but I don’t think it adequately compensates for the loss of life that has taken place here today!” I said. The Satyr was already ignoring me, so I salvaged the evening by heading back to the pub. With any luck I could use the chest plate as a way to pay down my previous drinks tab.


Oh come now, this is an incredibly dangerous bridge expanse. No wonder there is much hostility down here.


I know you’re in there Mr. Foreman, you come out here this instant! We have a few things to discuss and I’m in no mood for the shilly shally.

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

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

To test my newly formed theory of flower power and how it’s relates to horses, I cautiously approached the stone receiving bowl at the foot of the horse statue, conveniently located next to the temple. With great care, I took note of the form, shape, diameter, circumference and volumetric capacity of the bowl. Then, taking into account the length, weight, curvature and air resistance of the rose, I held steady so as not to detonate some needlessly complex booby trap. With a flourish, I tossed the flower into the bowl, then performed a practiced diving maneuver to ensconce myself behind a protective boulder.

When there was no explosion or flying debris, I peeked around the corner to see the result of my actions. To my shock and amazement, I heard the ethereal cry of a horse, and for an instant, the wispy silhouette of it’s magnificent countenance hovered on the breeze, then vanished.

“Splendid!” I cried. “It worked and no one was debilitatingly injured! Success all round!”

I scooped up the rest of the flowers and retraced my steps to find the rest of the prayer bowls.

I didn’t have to go far as I tripped over the second bowl almost immediately. Seeing there was no rock to hide behind, I stood bravely before this next bowl, and with a deep breath, dropped the flower in.

I expected a mighty kaboom. A scalding vapor or a face full of poison. But none of it came. Instead, the vaporous representation of a horse again appeared for an instant, and then was gone.

“It’s working!” I cried. “I have no idea what I’m doing or why, but two flowers and no death! Brilliant!”

Bounding over scrub and jagged rocks, I retraced my steps back to toward the Cultist encampment where I had first entered this area. It was there that I found two of the bowls close to each other.

Thinking perhaps my luck was running out, I closed my eyes, apologized to the Oracle for some of my previous misdeeds, and dropped in a rose. All of me clenched for an instant, some parts to an alarming degree, but again, no smell of burning adventurer permeated the air. Instead, the pleasing neigh of a horse as it’s spirit scattered to the winds.

“I’m getting good at this,” I gloated as I made my way to the next offering bowl, and with confidence and purpose, placed the flower inside.

“Be free my majestic confederate!” I exclaimed as he too graced me his presence for an instant.

“Now, back toward the temple and off toward the mountains,” I said with glee as I returned to where I had seen the glowing horse figure the night before.

Placing the flower in the bowl, the horse appeared just long enough to say goodby, then was gone. But along with his siren call, I heard a crack of thunder far behind me. Since I wasn’t shrouded in rain, I found it curious.

I turned to see an usual light coming from the open desert. “Oh, something has happened. Might be good. Might be bad. Won’t know until I get there,” I mused as I began to make my way toward it.

To my surprise, the unusual looking bell tower shaped pillar had an usual glow about it. I quickly went to investigate and discovered the light emitted from a portal at the base. It projected from an usual disk with strange markings.

And then I asked myself, “where does this portal lead to?”

High above me, I could see the glow of what I suspected was the portal exit. To test my theory and eliminate the possibility of being thrown into a void from which I may never return, I tossed a coin into the light. A moment later, I heard a noise above me, the sound of metal on stone.

“Success again!” I cried and with reckless abandon and jumped in. The light was blinding and the landing unnerving, but like my coin before me, I was at the top of the bell tower spire. The view was breathtaking and a little dizzying. I could see all the little Corpions milling about on the desert below most likely wondering where I had gone and if they had missed their opportunity to unleash a venomous stinger into my backside.

I could even see the cult members putting their ruined and charred camp back in order. I bellowed obscenities and made rude hand gestures at each, but it was all for naught as they could neither see nor hear me.

“So, what wondrous secret is hidden high atop this unusual rock formation?” I said aloud as I looked around. “For this surely!” I said with surprise as I spied a treasure chest tucked away in the shadows. “This is it! This is the one I’ve been waiting for! It most certainly is laden with treasure. No one in their right mind would go to all the trouble of carving a rock to look like a bell tower, then set a flower excreting ghost as a sentinel and require me to place completely unrelated flowers into a prayer bowl, which opes a mysterious portal, only to find a chest loaded with junk trinkets!”

With my pilferers fingers, it only took only a moment to unhinge the lock and reveal the contents. Tears welled in my eyes and I started to sob at the sheer magnitude of my discovery.

“Oh Mistress of Fortune, why are you so cruel to me? Why do you make go into these terrible places and roam from one random location to another, only to reward me with 50 coins and these damnable bundles of Corpse Wax? Why can’t we be friends again?”


I’m sure this is of some significance, but it escapes me at the moment.


A mysterious portal! Portals always lead to great and exciting things. Except when the lead to death.


The treasure chest I’ve been waiting to find! Fabulous wealth awaits!

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

With the Lucky Leather delivered to all the good little boys and girls of the desert, I took stock of my location, gathered my bearings with my ever trusty astrolabe, and headed back toward the burning embers of the encampment I left earlier.

I then connected with a path snaking it’s way to the temple and climbed up the hill. I traversed some treacherous rock formations and noted some strange tithing bowls next to a rough cut statue of what I’m quite sure was a horse. It was not carved to scale and the artist was a little loose with details. Further I am not a proponent of horses due to some very misfortunate deeds that have taken place in the valley of Nightshade Pass.

The temple loomed in the distance and I was eager to investigate. However, my entry was blocked as there was no bell with which to announce my presence nor a door upon which I could knock.

“A temple without a door? I find myself at a loss.”

There was a formidable rock formation adjacent to the temple, so I did my best to scale it, then repel over. It was in all in vain and I took several severe tumbles for the effort.

“Perhaps the entrance is a subterranean one?” I mused as I made my way around and around the structure looking for a hidden opening. Nothing revealed itself and soon darkness was upon me. The prophetic words of the Master Squire came true as skeletons appeared out of nowhere, ready to stab me in the backside.

“There will be none of that!” I declared as I took control of the melee and did my best to stab them first.

I was quite successful in my initial assaults, but there seemed to be no end to the boney rascals. As soon as one brace of skeletons fell in a clump at my feet, another was on the march toward me.

Higher ground was called for and I scaled the rock formation again. This was a brilliant plan and the fighters were helpless to get me. Alas, they had archers in their ranks and I was soon alight with their flaming arrows.

“Two can play at this deadly game!” I cried as I leapt from my perch and threw my flaming self at them. To add to my web of confusion, I hit the ground with Immolation. The night was alive with the call of skeletons claiming their release. In turn, my pockets were full with the gold and weapons I relieved from them.

Although still fully alive and conscious, my situation had not improved as I was no closer to gaining access to the temple. Searching in the dark yielded no results and more than once I nearly lost an eye to the deadly scrub of the desert.

Settling my bedroll, I took refuge in the strange glow of the horse statue. I had a rejuvenating meal of Corpion tail with lemon wedges I prepared back at The Hollow. I then slept lightly until the dawn, then renewed my search for an entrance.

I tried to follow the wooden stairs, but they seemed to disappear into the rock itself. Getting a good line of sight, I judged where the stairs should be, calculated a few angles, lined up a few points of attack, plotted a trajectory, then jumped onto some rocks toward the back of the structure. So far, my plan was a success.

Choosing my marks carefully, I leapt from one outcropping to the next. There was no path, but I was ascending. With the canyon and a mighty precipice on my left, I hugged the small pathway that seemed to exist. Moving from ledge to ledge like a cat, I managed to meet up with the severely weathered stairs.

It was tricky going, but I was soon scaling toward the top and finally reached the covered tower I had seen from a distance. It was a marvelous view, and had my life not been in jeopardy from the ill-tempered ghost that came out to meet me, I would have quite enjoyed it.

I didn’t even have the opportunity to offer aid to the apparition, or ask him about his plight, as he struck without warning.

“Very well, you leave me no choice but to use the sword! I was going to ask how I could be of assistance and learn your deep and meaningful back story of how you came to be here, but no more!”

And with that, I struck him soundly. Multiple times. Then I struck him again. When I found he was still moving and causing me strife, I struck him again, hurled some fire about the place, rained down an ice field, kicked up a fuss with an earthquake and body slammed the first thing that moved.

Then, for reasons I couldn’t fathom, flowers fell from the sky. I looked around to see if a worthy crowd had gathered to celebrate my stunning victory. I looked for fair maidens throwing their accolades at me, but alas, I was alone with flowers at my feet.

With nothing left to do in this wreck of a temple, which I still couldn’t actually enter, I made my precarious way back down. I then pondered my next move.

“Why would a ghost attack me without provocation at the top of a temple, then throw flowers at me when I was victorious? I know it’s my Achilles heel, but let me think for a moment.”

Then I was struck with an idea.

“To the horses! Horses love flowers!”


A fetching temple off in the distance. I believe I will give a knock a say hello.


Quite a festive view up here. The stairs could use some work and putting in a door would be awfully handy.

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

After making my way through the much hated Vauban Pass, cursing the very creator of such a terrible place, I arrived in South Drachvald Spur.

“Outlander! You’re just the sort I’ve been looking for! I am very much in need of your help,” said a woman who identified herself as Master Squire Osterhild.

“Good evening to you!” I replied. “You have been waiting for me? I see my reputation precedes me.”

“Indeed it does! You are quite renowned for going into the less than savory places, digging up dubious relics, and performing all sorts of dangerous and sordid acts for a token reward.”

“I think there is a bit more to my adventuring skills and helpful nature than that,” I replied.

“Of course there is,” she said with a smile. “Nevertheless, I have a little favor to ask.”

“Very well, how may I be of assistance?”

“Well, as it happens, we set out some leather to dry and cure in the sun. For reasons you won’t quite understand, doing so imbues the material with all sorts of magical and exciting properties. However, due to the blazing sun and terrifying heat, a few of the little squires are suffering a bit of heat exposure, and I was wondering if you would be so good as to help round up the cured leather they left out in the Corpion infested desert while I wait here out of harms way with this refreshing beverage at my side? What say you?”

“You want me to go out into the desert and find some leather?” I asked.

“Not just any leather my dear fellow. It’s Lucky Leather.”

“What makes it lucky?” I questioned.

“As I explained, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Couldn’t you just make some more?”

“Don’t be silly!” she said with a laugh. “It’s vitally important that you head out into the desert risking your life for this very specific leather. Making new leather would simply be wasteful. No, no, this is much better. It’s the way we do things around here.”

“Are you sure we can’t just make some new leather? I’d be happy to help. I’m quite good at the Tanning Station. Speaking of which, where is your Tanning Station?”

“My, my, my, what a lot of questions,” she said tersely.

“Yes, but if you don’t have a Tanning Station, or even a house that I can see, how did you make the leather in the first place?” I said looking around.

“Are you going to help or am I mistaken in thinking you are a man of action, capable of great deeds? Perhaps you are not the adventurer your reputation claims you to be. No matter, I’m sure another, more worthy adventurer will be along shortly.” Osterhild was quite stern this time.

“Oh no, no need for that,” I said with embarrassment. “Have no fear. You keep an eye on the little people and I shall head out into the Corpion infested desert looking for these Lucky Leather scraps.”

And so I did. And it wasn’t long before the Corpions sensed my presence and moved in for the poisoned kill. I anticipated their desire to envenomate me and lashed out with arcing attacks of Whirling Blades. Not only did I rifle through the dirt piles and locate my treasure, I harvested those Corpions for their tasty tails and debilitating poison glands. Oh yes Halmar, just you wait until I get back to town. I have quite the “bitter” to add to your ale when next we meet.

The excavation was slow going. Many of the leather locations proved difficult to see and on many occasions I felt myself on the verge of striking gold, only to find I had already been there.

After a time, all sides of the desert began to look the same and in going the wrong direction, I strayed into an Ebon Dawn encampment. It became clear, that not only did they mean to cause harm to my person, but they intended to relieve me of my newly found leather. This simply would not stand and I had no choice but to defend myself.

I gave them a sound thrashing and out of spite, set their encampment on fire. But not before smashing up a few crates and making a general nuisance of myself. I felt they deserved that much.

In the ensuing light of the fire I left behind, I was able to pierce the night and see the path I had come. Keeping to the rock formations on the right hand side, I was able to make my way back to Osterhil while locating the rest of my quarry. With the requested Lucky Leather scraps in hand, I handed them out to the joyous children, who put down their spears long enough to make sure I didn’t take an unnecessary stab in the backside.

With the deed done, and designs on investigating an intriguing looking temple I saw in the desert, I bid Osterhild a good day.

“Steady on Outlander! No need to rush off so soon! I have a reward for you.”

“A reward? Might it be a refreshing ale to combat the ridiculous heat of the desert? Perhaps a moist cloth I can use against my brow? Perhaps I should have paused for a moment in the shade of that encampment to regain myself before I set it ablaze.”

“Much better than both of those!” she said excitedly. “Have some Lucky Leather! You’ve earned it.”

Well, how very good of you. I’m not sure what to do with it, but very kind indeed.”

“I can tell by that tone and look about you, disappointment has befallen you. Clearly, you are not aware of what you hold.”

“I fear that is correct,” I replied. “I have plenty of leather at my disposal and a vault of animals hides that still need processing.”

“Ah, but this is special leather,” she replied with a smile. “Tis magical. You should seek out Preben in the South Majestic Forest. I venture to say he could fashion you a fabulous pair of boots from those!”

“Oh, new boots you say? I like boots. I’m not normally one to slip into a pair of leather boots as I prefer something more sturdy to protect my delicate and supple feet, but I will have a chat with Preben when I next find myself lost in the forest. But first, I believe I will take my leave and have a bit of a look at that temple in the distance.”

“Do be careful Outlander. There are many skeletons out there just itching to stab you in the back.”

“Oh, if I had a coin for every time I got that warning,” I said slipping off into the darkness.


Huzzah! What have we here? Excellent, a non-descript pile of dirt out here in the middle of desert. I’m sure this is the spot I’m meant to be looking in. And don’t think for a moment I don’t see you sneaking up on me, you dirty Corpion.


Oh, a temple. I like temples. Now that the sun has come up, I shall make my way over there and say hello to what I am sure are docile and peaceable tennants.

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

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