Grakor's Log

(Warning, spoilers of the first mini-mission, “Welcome to Hopiton!”)

Perhaps, as I write of our adventures, it would be best to start at the beginning. Beginnings are, after all, a very logical place to start, and not half-way through.

We were still filing into the welcoming (well, I’ll pretend it was welcoming at any rate) town of Hopiton. Of course, none of us were that familiar with the location, and rather than wander about aimlessly it was unanimously decided (by Karana) that we’d ask for directions. After a pleasant moment of volunteering (each other) our female friend chose her own escorts (under threat of volcanic activity) and happily led three of us with her into the nearby guard house, while the others waited for the rest of our group to arrive. Obviously, the local law enforcement has not much better to do than be our tour-guides.

Our course of action decided, we boldly stepped into the guard house, and were promptly introduced to one guard Grundlefish.

(In case you may be wondering…yes, we were doing our best to withhold our snickers at this point. We are adventurers after all, and as such should never abandon politeness, even to those whose names border upon the ridiculous.)

As Grundelfish was beginning to explain how to navigate about the fair town, we heard a bit of a ruckus back at the jail cells. Two criminals were being held…a large one (I reckon he was still smaller than Ulfarr or Grakor) and a smaller one who, as we would find out, had in his possession a stone coil. It would seem that they believed they had been incarcerated long enough, and was going to make their escape right at that moment. In a fairly impressive show of power, the prisoner with the coil blew the bars off of his cell, simultaneously trapping and knocking out our oddly-named friend.

Now, at this point, one may begin to wonder about the spectacular timing that these two seemed to have. Surely, if one were planning an escape, the time to do it is not when there are four armed visitors within the guard house. One must then continue to wonder, if they absolutely had to time their escape at that point, why they would then choose to attack said visitors instead of blasting their way out of a window or some such. I have recently come to the conclusion that it is this lack of intellect that likely got them landed in jail in the first place.

After pleasantries were exchanged (remember, politeness is paramount) we proceeded to what any sane, rational group of beings would do in this situation…stab and blast these criminals until they stopped moving. They did attack us first, after all.

After the dust settled, we took the time to liberate the prisoner of his stone coil, as well as all of their earthly possessions up to (and including) the very clothes on their backs. We are adventurers, and that role comes with certain expectations, including rampant kleptomania. To be fair, their clothes were far sturdier than what we were wearing at the time, though it was wisely decided to wash them before trying to put them on. We have no idea where these prisoners had been, or how recently they had taken a bath.

After assisting Grundlefish up to his feet, his captain came in, full of questions of what had just transpired. After explanations were given, said captain decided to reward us with a small amount of coin and the directions we had initially desired. Feeling rather proud of ourselves on our first victory and good deed, we left so that the captain could finish yelling at Grundlefish. We also decided we’d avoid that guard house in the future.

So ends our first tale, of how we beat up two down on their luck prisoners and took their possessions. Ah, memories.

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[Written in a neat, if not altogether flowing, script…]

I was told that it was, perhaps, time to begin recording our adventures. At the very least, I will write down who we are, and perhaps some of our more notable moments, so that others may at least remember what we have done.

We are an adventuring group of sorts…mercenaries, perhaps, though I personally find the term distasteful. Our group was brought together by the combined efforts of Ulfarr and Grakor, and I’ll introduce you to those later (well, not personally obviously, but in a more…pah, never mind, you understand me.)

Fame is something that continues to elude us, as I write this entry. Our exploits mostly deal with the purging of bandits and the escort of wagons, minor tasks such as those. Perhaps we have gained the respect of some of the denizens of Hopiton, which I would hold some small measure of pride for. Rescuing a man’s son from the sewers of the city was perhaps our greatest achievement…which makes it understandable why we are still quite unknown. Still, for those with interest, or should our group rise in fame, I will do my utmost to describe the contents of our band.

The first is Ulfarr, one half of our supposed leadership. I am told that “Ulf” literally translates to “Wolf,” though I’m not sure if that is particularly accurate in both a literal and figurative sense. He’s a large, muscular man who fancies himself a knight of sorts. It’s true, though, that I’ve seen few who wield that sword of his with as much confidence as he does, or one who is as comfortable in the heaviest of armors. He is tolerable enough.

The second is Grakor, who also happens to be my brother by blood, and the other half of our leadership. Like Ulfarr, he is a large and intimidating man, though he prefers the (I find) barbaric practice of simply braining people with a club, over swordplay. Still, despite his temper there is no one else I would trust my life to as much as him.

Alrekr is, as I understand, a former street thug. I say former in the hopes that he no longer continues such practices, but I don’t hold all that much hope for such. He’s brash, tempermental, and loud, and those are on his good days. I won’t deny though that there’s no one among us better at pummeling an enemy into submission with just one’s bare fists.

I honestly do not know much about Hrafn. He keeps to himself most of the time, and keeps to the shadows when he can. What I do know is that he is a calm individual who isn’t prone to displaying too much emotion at any given point in time, and who has good control over the workings of the mind.

Korpr knows the ways of nature better than anyone, and its he who advises us on our paths through the wilds. He’s a compassionate man with little desire to harm others…though he will, especially if they harm nature’s balance in some way.

Karana is the sole female within our group, but she certainly doesn’t let that bother her. With a temper and personality as explosive as the metatherics she uses, she is perhaps one of the more dangerous members of our crew.

In most cases, I would rather not speak about Geilir, but I will for the sake of completeness. Sometimes I wonder, when he heals our flesh with his own, if he does so out of charity and benevolence, or just because it gives him an excuse to steal the flesh from another. He can be cold, rude, and down-right uncaring…but for whatever reason he is with us, there is none better with a flesh coil and a whip.

Lastly comes myself. I would not presume to brag about my own abilities, or take a guess how I come off to others. My name is Garrok. I like to view myself as a practical and level-headed being, but I will leave the rest of you to judge if that is what I truly am. I was once called a shaman of the wind, a title that amuses me enough that I decided to keep it, as I use coils of both the air and the airwind. Perhaps not the most destructive of choices, but it suits me fine.

This entry has droned on longer than I anticipated. Perhaps no one will even read these entries, let alone find amusement in the contents. So I will end this…and, perhaps, one day you will either see us on the streets, or remember us if we are long gone.

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