A Touch of VENgeance

It had been like walking onto the scene of a nightmare.

We had thought there was something wrong for the last few miles. Some sense of unease, and discomfort. The woods surrounding the path that evening had been frightfully quiet. Unnaturally so. Not a cricket chirped. Not a frog croaked. Even the air held a stillness about it that was almost cloying in its stagnancy.

So it really came as no shock when we crested the last rise and looked down into that town that had been our destination. Where we expected glittering lights, or the sounds of a town full of people getting ready to shut down for the night, there was nothing. Nothing but a dotting of a couple of torches. Nothing but that same stillness and silence that had followed us there.

Now, moving with even more caution than before (and we'd had started to be considerably wary when the noises of the forest had ceased), we came into the town itself. We began to cross over the one bridge that joined this little hamlet to the world (A considerable chasm seemed to ring it, as it nestled against that massive and foreboding mountain) when it hit us. Like a wall. A wall of death, and decay. My partner gagged. I brought a rag up to my mouth and held it there.

Oh, yes. Something was wrong here. Very wrong.

Our first encounter with a source of that smell lay just beyond the bridge. A horse, it's eyes still open and looking maddened beyond reality. Its flanks ripped asunder. Its innards spread around it as if something had exploded out in some force. I had to look away, and pulled out my sword. Whatever could cause this might still be around. We were in danger. Considerable danger.

Yet we continued to slowly make our way toward the houses that were just beyond this one grisly scene. Perhaps... perhaps the townspeople managed to survive somehow. Managed to barricade themselves in their homes. I had to know. I had to find out what happened here.

We arrived at the first house and stepped from the relative darkness into a square lit only by a couple of flickering torches. Torches that had burned for some time, and were now just about gone out. I lifted my own unlit brand and caught it afire before we were plunged into total darkness, and then my eyes finally adjusted to the light (or lack thereof).

The torch dropped from my hand.

It was not just like a nightmare. I was in one. One so horrific that I had lost all ability to make a sound. To move. To scream. I heard a thump from beside me and terror finally allowed me to whip around. My companion had fainted.

Before us, in that town square that had probably seen so many days of activity and adventure and barter and the laughter of children as the ran about, were the townsfolk. However, they were not going about their business. Nor had they escaped ANYthing. For they were lying about the square in pools of dark liquid. Blood. Their fates the same as that horse near the bridge. The square ran with their blood. I could see it even now seeping through cobblestones and pooling in gutters. Still I could not move. Still I could only look around and stare at the sight that greeted me here. The stench threatened to overwhelm me, but it was not as bad as it could have been... for these were no bodies that had been lying here for weeks. No. This was relatively fresh. This had been done only recently. A day ago. Maybe less.

A sound finally escaped my throat, and I bent down and slapped my companion to consciousness.

"GET UP!" I cried. "We must leave. NOW!"

And that is when I heard him.

It sounded like a small animal. A puppy maybe. Whimpering amongst the dead. I could not believe it. Something lived through this... this massacre?! I picked my torch up off the ground, silently thanking the gods for it being still lit, and ever so slowly inched my way toward that sound. Perhaps whatever has making it heard me, I don't know, but at my approach it began to cry louder now. A human cry. A CHILD'S cry.

My god.

He sat among the bodies. Drenched in their blood, covered in their gore. My torchlight revealed his face, sticky with the congealing fluid of those around him. His eyes open, staring. He seemed to look right through me, yet his cry was real. Such a small body among dozens and dozens of others, yet he lived. Then, suddenly, he seemed to come to himself. He stopped staring beyond me, and seemed to realize I was there. He blinked, and a tear finally escaped one eye and tracked a pinkish streak down his filthy cheek.

His head rose ever so slightly and he met my gaze.

A choking sob.

"Mommy?"

My heart broke. I reached down, grabbed him up from the blood soaked ground and yelled for my companion. There was a survivor. We had to leave this accursed place. NOW.

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Imagine you are standing on that bridge now, linking the town of Torchlight to the rest of the world, watching as two figures flee the darkness and death behind you (But do not fret, my friends, for this is not the first time Torchlight has suffered such a fate, and I daresay it will be the last). Imagine if you will, seeing a tiny face peer up from the shoulder of one of the figures. Its eyes still wet with tears. Imagine that blood crusted face of presumed innocence, and remember it well... because it is looking at you.

With hunger.

And it is smiling.

A New Evil

The interior of the place was dark. Karyna ushered the boy inside, then shut the door, locking it behind her. She knew this place well. All those years ago she had spent many a night (and day) in this place, recovering from all sorts of maladies and injury. With a sigh of relief she glanced around and noticed that the place had barely changed. All sorts of apothecary and unnameable magical aids lined the shelves on the wall, and the glassed cases that stood haphazard around the shop. In a corner, by a small fire, sat the person Karyna had come to see.

"I know you," croaked the woman in that corner, wrinkled and creaking with age. "I know also why you come."

Karyna started. How could she possibly...?

"I know many things that I wish I did not. I know what you think. I know what you feel. I knew THEN that you would be back someday. It's the ember you see... it tells me things."

The old woman slowly stood up and for the first time Karyna noticed her eyes. They were completely devoid of iris and pupil, shining a subtle emerald white. Karyna gasped and took an involuntary step back.

"This place called to you, didn't it? It whispered to you in the dark of night. It murmured to you constantly even in the day. You could not escape the call, so you are here. You are here, and you brought HIM..."

This last word was uttered in a sort of raspy shriek. A withered old finger pointed at the figure beside her, which stood completely still and silent. Karyna could only nod. "I... I need your help. He... He is not well. It started a couple of years ago. Soon before the voices in my head. There is something dreadfully wrong, and it is only getting worse. I thought... I thought the voices meant that I was to bring him here, to you. You can do so much. You can help him!"

"FOOL!"

The word was screeched and echoed in the room, the fire in the hearth flickered. The room seemed to shrink and groan and grow slightly darker.

"It WANTED you back here. You were supposed to be strong enough to resist its call." The old woman spit on the ground, and glared at the boy. "And you most likely would have been. If I had known then that it existed... this, CHILD" She grimaced and spit the word out like it burned her tongue, "I would never have let you leave this place then."

Karyna stared. What was this old crone saying? "He is all I have! This accursed place has already cost me so much. I refuse to let it take him too! You will do something you old hag!"

The old lady began to laugh. It was an awful sound, like a million rats scurrying in the walls. Karyna winced.

"There is nothing I can do. Your fate is sealed now my child. There is only one thing to be done, yet it is you that is going to have to do it. Nobody else has the power for this task. That boy must die, and it must be at YOUR hand."

"NO!" Karyna pulled her son to her, glaring at the woman with an intense hatred. "I brought him here to be healed you witch, and this is what you tell me?! A pox on you!" With a choking sob, she grabbed the boy and flew out of the shop, slamming the door behind.

For a few moments, the old woman simply stood there staring after her. Then she closed her eyes, shutting off the greenish otherworldly glow, and dropped her head. So it was done. She would have tried harder but she hadn't lied about being able to see inside that woman. The weakness that was her love for that... well, it wasn't a child anymore was it... would be ALL their undoing.

The gods help them.

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Karyna poured over the latest tome. It was only a few months since her encounter with the old healer. A few months since she thought that there was nowhere else to turn. Nothing left to do. Yet one day a book had mysteriously appeared on her desk. A book that began her on a path what she thought might be her son's salvation. She was still here in this town, in Torchlight, though she had no godly reason for staying. It was those voices. They were maddening in their persistence. They threatened to tear her mind apart if she even began to think about leaving again. So she stayed. Perhaps they would eventually help her find an answer. An answer to Ven's ailment. An answer to why his mind had seemed to suddenly vacate his body, leaving him a shell of a boy. Leaving him with those sunken eyes that stared into nothing. Leaving his skin pale and lifeless, though he still drew breath. He would eat if food was put in front of him. He could perform cursory functions. He could walk. Yet there was nothing else. He did not speak. He did not laugh, or cry, or seem to feel pain. He did not show that he understood when you talked to him, but would follow if you led him somewhere.

Karyna felt tears well in her eyes once more, and the words on the pages blurred. No. She could not let the despair overwhelm her, for here in these pages seemed to be the answer she sought. She blinked the tears back and focused once more. Yes. Yes, here it was. A ritual involving some of the deepest ember. A ritual that promised to return her son to her.

It never even occurred to her to second-guess where this tome had come from. Why it had appeared. That there might be another reason for such a ritual. It hadn't occurred to her for a second.

---------------------------------------

Karyna nodded her head slightly at the figure, which then turned and disappeared into the dark. For a moment she glanced into the leather satchel before shutting it again. She finally had it. A piece of the ember that she had been searching for now for some time, ever since learning about the ritual that would restore Ven's mind. She could not go into the deeps herself anymore, not with Ven counting on her to be there for him, but that was no matter. Even though the adventurers of the past no longer came en masse to this place, they did still come. She knew that it was only a matter of time before one made it deep enough to get her what she desired.

Today was that day.

Yet for some reason she did not feel happy, or relieved. For some reason there seemed to be a dread upon her that she could not explain. Even as she spent the next few hours preparing her room for the ritual, making sure she got every little detail perfect, the dread grew. She had to keep looking up at her boy who lay on the bed, eyes staring unblinking at the ceiling, to force herself to remember why she was doing this. The voices in her head had fallen silent ever since she had begun reading that old tome. She took this as a sign. That she was doing what she was supposed to be doing. That there was a reason she had come back here and it hadn't been that old hag that pretended to be a healer. The one that had turned on her and wanted her to kill her son! Kill him! Like he was some evil thing to be put to rest.

Karyna shook her head to clear her thoughts, and gazed upon Ven. So little. So innocent. He didn't deserve to be like that, as near to lifeless as a body can get and yet still breathe. Until this had happened he had been such a precious child. Always quick to laugh, his eyes shining with a brilliance that could charm the most foul tempered adult around him. He had been like his father in that way, although his charm had only had positive results. Now, an empty shell. Karyna clutched her breast and closed her eyes tight. This had to work.

It had to.

------------------------------

She looked up, exhausted. It had taken hours. Hours of chants and precise hand motions. Hours of energy threatening to break loose of the control she so tenuously held. Hours of pain and near suffering.

Yet it was over. It was done.

She looked up, exhausted. She looked up into his face as he stood there and a choking sob escaped her. For she no longer looked into the face of an ashen ghost. She gazed upon a memory. She gazed upon chubby, pinkish cheeks. She gazed upon eyes that looked BACK. Yes, they seemed lost. Confused. But they were no longer lifeless. She gazed upon her son.

"Mommy?" One word.

Karyna pulled him into her arms, her emotions finally broken, sobbing in joy, her heart threatening to break in two. He was back. She had done it, she had brought him back and he was hers again. Her boy. Her Ven. Her lif...

... the pain didn't happen right away, yet she knew it would come. She looked down as Ven slowly backed away from the embrace she had taken him into, then let go of as suddenly. Protruding from her gut was the handle of a dagger, one of the items that she had used in the ritual. She stared at it in disbelief. She stared at it, at the blood that began to seep through her clothes, and cover the hands she had brought down to grasp the handle. She opened her mouth to ask, why? what? But all that came out was a gurgle and a crimson bubble on her lips that burst and sent a spittle onto her chin. She stared at the boy before her, unable to comprehend. He only stared back, and didn't move. Her mouth moved a couple more times, trying to make sound but failing, and then she collapsed forward. As darkness began to take her and she went toward that final pathway to the gods she heard one last thing. A voice tender and sweet...

"I loved you mommy."

Death took her.

The boy stood a moment more, then turned and walked out the door. There were voices in his head.

He listened.

Twisted Legacy

So he is dead then.

I struggle with the thoughts in my head as I sit here upon my return from those worthless caverns. A plethora of emotion threatens to overwhelm me. I do not know whether I should be relieved, or angered. Ecstatic, or devastated.

I came upon his corpse when I least expected it. Indeed, it was nearly my undoing, for I was in the midst of a battle like none I had faced to that point. A creature of such gargantuan size, and unbelievable power. It had backed me onto that accursed bridge, beams of energy threatening to melt the flesh from my bones. It was only through sheer force of will that I was able to summon forth a barrier from the power of the ember around me so I could retreat to safety. This being was beyond me. I would not win this fight today.

Then suddenly I was on the ground. Something I hadn't noticed when crossing towards the colossus seemed to appear out of nowhere. My heel slipped in something and a foul stench was released as I tumbled to my ass, sitting down hard and clicking my teeth against my tongue. Warmth and the foul taste of copper and iron flooded my mouth, then ran down my chin as I gagged on the odor of death. The giant creature of ember and stone stepped upon the bridge, a roar of triumph escaping it. It knew it had me now. I knew it had me now. I shut my eyes and prepared myself for my destiny.

Yet I was not to end here. Not this day.

From out of the darkness came a feral scream. Like a banshee of the deepest night it echoed through the caverns. Then I felt a rush of wind just over my head as a dark shape flew into the chest of that mighty beast, that was only moments from turning me into a smear on this stone walkway. I opened my eyes and stared in wonder, for I suddenly recognized the thing that had attacked the colossus. It was a creature I had found half-starving and wasting away from injury in the woods just beyond Torchlight. A cat of large size. It had growled at me, warning me away, but there was something about it. Something that had called to me. Disregarding any danger I may have been in, I had somehow managed to -- over the course of some days -- calm it, charm it and nurse it back to health. From then on, it would not leave my side. It frequently followed me into the caverns and sometimes helped me to sniff out things I may have missed. Until the other day, when it had been injured by a creature in the cavern just above the one I found myself in now, and I had left it in town for this journey to heal and recover.

Yet here it was. It's loyalty must have been too strong, and even in injury and pain it had followed me to this place. Now, just when all seemed lost, the gods smiled on me one last time.

Where it got the strength from, I do not know, yet there was a fury in that animal that surpassed anything I had ever seen. It attacked that giant like it was nothing but a tiny mouse. The colossus seemed confused, and stumbled back. A crack echoed into the gloom like cannon shot. I noticed then that the cat had forced the beast to the very edge of the bridge... It stumbled, but then regained its balance. It knocked the cat away, and then turned once more to me. Even with this new foe for it to worry about, it seemed it still had a mindless desire to see me perish. I tried to stumble on my feet once again, but the stone was slick with blood and the foul greasy ichor of whatever it was I had fallen on, and in. A fist the size of house began to descend even as I tried to scramble backward on my feet and hands, crablike.

Then, it was gone. The cat had come again. In one final superheroic leap it landed upon the head of the colossus, unbalancing it once more. This time the stone beneath its feet crumbled into the abyss below and with a noise like thunder they disappeared into that darkness. The beast and my savior.

For some long moments I sat there unable to accept what had just happened. I was alive. The cat. It had not been with me for long, so I had not realized how much it had meant to me until now. It was with a sudden tear in my heart that I realized just what had happened here now. I had lost another. Another being I had only begun to love. First Bastion, however false that love had been. Then my child, leaving him behind to come to this foul evil place! Now...

... my hand slipped again in the gore that coated the stone. (Another miracle in that the bridge only collapsed in one section, leaving the piece I was on intact, and connected to my way out of this place). I grimaced in disgust and finally glanced down to see what it was I was sitting on... and in. That was when shock hit me for a second time. For I found myself staring down into a face, that no matter how badly decomposed it was, was instantly recognizable. The rest of the body was mere tatters, dripping with decay, torn fabric slightly rippling in a breeze from the blackness below.

Bastion.

I cannot remember much after that. A sort of fugue took me then, and the next thing I remember was coming out of a strange dream-like fuzz in my room here in Torchlight. On my bed was a pack. His pack. On my desk was this journal, that first line already written.

So he is dead then.

Yes, he is dead. I have his journal and a few of his belongings from that sad corpse to prove it.

I should be furious. I should feel cheated for my revenge. Yet all I feel is an emptiness now. Like a hole has opened up in my very being. I have sat here for many hours, and I have decided on my fate. I shall venture into the deeps no more. Whatever power and riches lie below have no meaning to me. Whatever fate is waiting down there will have to wait for another. I only have one thought now. I shall send a message to the Nunnery I left so many months ago. A message to prepare for my return. A message that I am coming... for my son.

- Journal Entry of Karyna Arbalest

6 Years Later

The residents of the town of Torchlight watched as a bedraggled mare slowly cantered into the town square. Upon its back were two figures. One was tall and covered in a dark riding cloak, the color of a deep twilight. The other, sitting behind, was smaller perhaps a child. It too was draped in a cloak of burned crimson.

The horse whinnied as the rider pulled it to a stop in front of the local merchant. The rider looked around, features still hidden in the gloom of the hood it wore. Then, without a word, hands reached up to grasp the hood and pull it back from the head. A few of the older residents gasped. They knew that face. It sat in memories that were dusty and unused, but not forgotten. This woman had been here before. Many years before. She had not been welcome then (although the people that remembered her were suddenly confused as to why. In fact, that whole time seemed to be a haze to them), yet even despite their attempts at shutting her out she had stayed. Stayed and prowled the depths of the mountain. Threatening the thin peace they had begun to enjoy back then. Now, in the years since she had gone, the mountain had begun to once again grow ever more unstable. Once again creatures had begun to creep out of the passageways at night, stealing infants from their cradles, feasting upon livestock and pets, and growing increasingly more bold and destructive. It was all they could do to keep the creatures in check. The adventurers that had appeared in years past were no longer arriving in the numbers they had. The town guards were becoming overwhelmed. It seemed that there may be no hope.

And now SHE had returned. From out of nowhere and with no warning. The townspeople began to gather around, looks ranging from outright hatred to wary hope showing on their faces. What had she returned for? Was she here as a savior? (They knew she possessed incredible gifts). Or had she returned for a darker purpose?

The woman dismounted, and then helped the smaller figure from the mare. She looked on the townspeople with disinterest, took the small one by the hand, and began walking towards the healers. Without another glance, nor without removing the hood from the other's head, she disappeared inside.

The townspeople began to murmur amongst themselves. Who was that other? A child? Was he, or she, sick? Had she brought some kind of plague among them? There was no telling, then. With frustrated looks they began to break apart, to return to their homes and duties. They supposed only time would tell. In fact, they found out sooner than they would have wished.

Reprieve

I knew that the gods could not forsake me for long.

I should trust my instincts more. I was beginning to wallow in despair. I was beginning to lose hope despite that feeling of enthusiasm I had before venturing further into the deeps, as I stood before that runic doorway. Alas, for it would be many days of further searches and slain foes, still revealing nothing useful to me, even as the evil continued to grow stronger. A few moments where I was certain death had come to call, only to be saved by miraculous circumstances each time. A stone from the ceiling striking down a putrid skeleton as it raised its sword for a final blow. A room with a lockable doorway standing empty while I flew from battle, providing me a few moments rest, with a chest of arrows replenishing my depleted supply. A final desperate shot finding its mark even as I collapsed in exhaustion, finishing off the final foe.

Yet still I found nothing.

And then, when all seemed lost, and I stood upon a thresh-hold backed into a dead-end crypt by a legion of shambling undead, I saw it. A shining miracle among a pile of broken stone. A familiar sight to me, as I had trained on such devices before. It was a rifle. A weapon that had only just started to see use in the Kingdom before I had left. A new piece of technology that I never thought I would see within this blasted mountain. Yet there it was, glowing with a power of its own. As if the gods had decided I had proved myself and gifted me with the chance of my own salvation, even as the horde bore down on me with bloodlust in its collective appetite.

With a cry, I lunged for the weapon, grabbing it by the stock and skilfully flipping it into my hands, my finger finding the trigger as I had been taught to do from the time I was a child. I glanced up and cried out again for the first malodorous wight was upon me. With an instinct born of countless hours working my body to the point of death, I began to fire.

And fire.

And fire.

All consciousness seemed to leave me then. All I can remember for the next few minutes is a sort of greenish blur of ichor and bile. The decayed and lifeless flesh of those monsters sprayed outward, coating everything in its vile stench. I choke now just thinking of it. When I came back to myself, there was nothing left. That horde that should have been the end of me had met its own end instead, and I stood there, chest heaving, rifle smoking and let out a feral roar of triumph.

From that moment on, things began to come to me more swiftly. I discovered caches of gear and armor, brimming with enchantment. I continued to find weapons even better than the ones I found only a few floors before. My skills increased ten fold as I found ancient tomes of knowledge that showed me how to do things I could only dream of before. The gods, I believe, have finally decided I am worthy.

Still, I have not found what I came here to seek. I am certain, however, that I am meant to. I no longer wish for my son to have a father. That desire left me as I scratched out my survival here in these caverns. No, for what he's put me through, Bastion will not live, if yet he does. My quest now has only one purpose. One outcome.

One of us must die.

- Journal Entry of Karyna Arbalest

As the World Spurns

At first, it seemed the gods were against me.

I arrived in this hell of a town a few days ago. Travel weary and foot-sore, it had been a much longer trek than I had anticipated. Seeing the lights when I broached the last rise had filled me with gladness. An emotion that wouldn't last.

Curse these people. I don't know what he has done with them, or if they are just the sort to spurn a woman like me, but they refuse to answer my questions regarding the bastard. They range from outright denial to his very existence, to a guilty glance downward as they turn away. It's as if some of them WISH to speak with me, but have been warned against it. It is maddening! What is wrong with them!?

Still, the merchant at least has the balls to deal with me, if with few words. An old man at the edge of town seems to be one of the only other few that will also speak with me, but it is for his own nefarious purposes as he sends me in search of Ember that he can profit from (however, since I also profit, I shall continue to deal with him... for now.) A few other people also deal with me, but like the ember hunter, it is only because they can gain from it.

So for now I have been stymied in my search. Was Bastion ever even here? Will I find his body in the mines below? I have traveled in them often since arriving, of course. They are filled with vermin, and it is becoming an increasingly difficult task to rid the area of them. Curse the gods again, for the weapon I have brought with me seems to be becoming ineffective at an alarming rate. The reason for this, I do not know, but the vermin I encounter as I go deeper into that blasted place seem to be growing a discomforting ability to shrug off my attacks... yet the merchant sells nothing I can use, and all I seem to find in the various rotting and mold-covered chests in that dank darkness are the weapons of former adventurers with skills so much different than my own. Axes that I can barely lift, let alone use in combat. Staves that I would be more likely to knock myself senseless with than anything that attacks me from the gloom.

Oh, my life for a bow! Something made of a sturdier wood perhaps, than my own. Something with a magical enchantment. Something that would let me pierce these blasted ratlings with far more accuracy than I can thus achieve.

We shall see what happens tomorrow. It grows late, and I hear the rumbling even in my room here, far from the mine entrance. The evil below continues to grow. The gods cannot be against me forever. My portal waits for me, at the entrance to something new. The runes that surround the door-way there promise something different. Something far more evil than anything I've encountered thus.

Still, I question this whole thing. I cannot even be sure he is down there. I cannot even be sure he is alive. Yet something tells me. Something speaks to me. Alive or dead, he is down there. I shall find him.

If, that is, I can ever get my hands on a weapon that will help keep me alive!

- Journal Entry of one Karyna Arbalest, Vanquisher for the King

A Woman Scorned

She flopped over in the bed, still half-asleep, expecting the arm she had reached out to fall upon the warm body that had been next to her only a few hours before. Instead, she found empty air, and then the feel of slightly cold linen. She came fully awaken then, and sat up. Blinking in the thin light of dawn, trying to get her bearings. Had he simply gotten up a little early (ok, make that a lot early)? Was he just now down in the common room, getting an early breakfast?

She glanced around the room, the thought of joining him for some eggs and mutton becoming a fine idea indeed, when it suddenly hit her. Something was wrong. It wasn't only his body that was missing from the bed, but his pack from the corner as well. He hadn't touched it in two weeks. Two MAGICAL weeks since they'd met, and he'd stolen her heart... as well as other things.

No worried, and not understanding entirely WHY, she leaped out of bed and grabbed the nearest covering she could find. The air was chilly, and the lack of the warmth of his body now hit her. He had been gone for some time.

Running now, down the stairs to the inn's commons, she grabbed the nearest wench (perhaps a little roughly, her emotions now out of control. Unfamiliar to her.) and demanded she answer her questions.

Had she seen him? Where had he gone? Had he said anything?

Sadly, the wench answered her questions, and only in all too maddening a detail.

He had left in the deep of the night. Waking the maid and demanding she prepare him provisions that could last him many weeks. Then, without a word, he had departed. Carrying with him everything he had arrived with only those 2 short weeks ago. Tears threatened in her eyes, but they were not tears of sadness. No, she was angry. Furious. How dare he? HOW DARE HE?!

He had arrived at their tiny little Hamlet just that fortnight ago. She had been working as a barmaid in the inn when he dragged himself inside, looking a little worse for wear, tired and bedraggled. Yet in his eyes a fierce fire had glowed, and though it seemed like such a tired cliche, those eyes had captivated her from that first moment. Her, a person that had sworn to never be caught in the usual female trap. Her, a paragon of independence. Her, trapped here in this gods-forsaken place while undercover for the King, trying to track down a violent killer. In the space of but a moment all of that was forgotten, as he took a seat, called her over, looked into her eyes and smiled.

"Food, and a room with a bath, if possible" he had uttered, and she was lost.

Now as she stood in the commons with a wench that looked terrified by what she saw in this mad-woman's eyes, the person she had been before was suddenly back in force. No longer was she a love-sick little girl, her strength and independence gone. No longer was she trapped by feelings she had sworn to never give in to. No longer. The man must have been a magician. There must have been some power in him that he could take her over like he had. Those last two weeks seemed fuzzy now. Like a dream. Like she had been drugged.

A small growl escaped her lips. Yes. That was not the person she was. He had done something to her. Done something, then used her and disappeared when finished.

With a scream of rage, she swore that she would find him. She would use every skill at her disposal (and she had many, being trained under the King's finest forces) and she would hunt him down. She would have her revenge.

Except, first, she would run to the privy and empty and already almost empty stomach as a wave of nausea hit her. Revenge would have to wait.

1 Year Later:

Karyna reluctantly handed the bundle over to the woman in the doorway. It squirmed for a moment, and then was still. No sound escaped it, for now. With a nod of her head, the woman disappeared into the gloom behind, and the door swung shut. Karyna swallowed a choking sob, but then held herself in check. She stood up straight, hitched her pack up on her shoulder, and turned from the doorway. It was done, and it was time.

He had left her that night that seemed so long ago, but not without giving her something before he went. That morning of her rage turned into a morning of confusion, and a few months later all was confirmed. She had been with child. Now, she was leaving that child with this monastery, in order to find its father. No longer did she have revenge on her mind, although she was still driven by anger. Now, she wished only to make him aware of what he left her. To stand up for his responsibility.

Or was that a form of revenge in itself? A feral grin spread on her face.

She knew where to start. He had murmured it in his sleep on many an occasion. A name. It had made no sense to her at the time, but she had had many months to research it. Now she understood.

Torchlight.

The talk of the place was that of legend. So he had gone to seek his fortune. Perhaps to become a hero. Perhaps to become a legend. Most likely to become a god... and bend people to his will. He had been good at that.

With a final grunt of determination, she descended from the steps of the monastery, and turned onto the path that would lead her to him. Hopefully.

She prayed she would find him still alive... because if the monsters hadn't destroyed him. She would.

Bridging the Generation Gap

I have found it. It is mine.

My jubilation has been tempered, however, by a mild disappointment. I had only just begun to search in the crypt filled caverns that lie beneath the mines themselves when I stumbled upon him. It was almost a shock to me. I had expected to be here weeks, months, perhaps even years in my search. Surely my father was more of a man than this. Surely he would have conquered more of this hate filled place than THIS!?

Ah, but I let my emotions carry me. My father failed in his quest, that much was always certain, but how badly he failed was never clear until now. Just a few levels down into the crypts I stumbled upon his remains. Barely decayed even, the air in this place so dry and clean, the only signs of "life" not even life at all. Animated dead cared not to feast on flesh that was as lifeless as they.

Looking around me, at the destruction I had wrought upon this bridge that I found him on, I had to wonder what he was thinking. What fool would allow themselves to be caught in such an obvious place for a trap? What imbecile would charge unthinking onto such a precarious and unsafe place of battle?

My father. That's who.

My shame consumes me.

Yet my shame is not all-absorbing, for on his body I found it. The thing that I sought for. The thing I never expected to have in my hands so soon. By some quirk of fate, it had not plummeted off this rail-less stone bridge like a few of his other possessions had. By at least SOME measure of sanity he had not stored it in his side-pack, where it could so easily have been lost or destroyed. No, retaining at least a little of the wisdom I had always thought he had possessed (which I now considered a product of my own youthful folly and hero worship) he had kept this one precious thing close to him. Wrapped to his breast under a protecting plate of armor. So it was that it was saved from the fate of his pack, of whatever weapon he may have been carrying (for there were none beside him). So it was that it was now mine.

Mine.

Yet I am not wholly satisfied. For while I was searching the body, I knew I had another task yet ahead of me. A promise of an even greater reward. A reward I could not resist. For another 2 weeks since coming upon his lifeless corpse I have continued into this mountain. Deeper and Deeper. Destroying all in my path. I was not about to fall to my Father's fate. Not I. That weakling's fate was not to be my own! The lady Syl was impressed with my power, I could tell from the way she spoke of me. The way she looked at me. A look that I wanted more of...

... but enough distractions. For I am nearing the end of this particular stage of my journey. I was sent to find out the reasons for the rumbles in the deep. The quakes that threatened to tear the mountain apart... and I have arrived at the last cavern. I can feel it in my bones. It is dark down this final tunnel. So dark. Yet for everything I cannot see, I can feel. I can SMELL. Sulfur and and evil intent so strong. Unlike anything I'd felt before.

This will be a new challenge. Yet I am prepared. I am ready.

A roar. The cavern shakes. There is something alive down there.

I am ready.

- The Final Journal Entry of Bastion Jr. discovered on a rotting corpse.

Bastion Jr. Perished while attempting to destroy the Ember Colossus in the Tu'Tara Caverns. He got trapped on a bridge.

Perhaps there are some destinies we cannot escape.