PaxLair Times

Chesapeake (PaxLair Times) – October 21, 2012 – by Ashlynn (With stories by Samara and Savaric) – I have gathered together copies of stories and journal entries from various folk across the realm. Recorded are tales of old encounters and experiences that others may enjoy reading.

From the Journal of Samara

Long ago, I had been venturing deeper and deeper into the East Britannian woods. I was a hunter, a tailor by craft, and I survived encounters with the most unsavory types. Life was simple and I had a savings account that could weather any storm.

At about this time, the Lost World was found by Britannian citizens and a friend of mine tried to convince me that I needed to get out and explore more; treasure and adventure could be in store for me. I nervously stepped through a blue gate, which might have been my second or third alone, and opened my eyes to a tribal village of grass huts and dirt streets. Delucia they called it; a small quaint village, with a raw natural appeal introduced me to the Lost World.

Delucia was largely populated by cows, hinds, bulls, and sheep. It was a tailor’s paradise. As soon as I was getting comfortable again, this same friend of mine decided I should check out the Lost World’s desert. It was here that I first encountered a foe I will never forget, even 10 years later, the Ophidians. The “fields” they called it, a giant opening in the desert surrounded by natural mountain barriers that mocked the appearance of a coliseum.

In my first encounter, I had to keep telling myself “Its just like in Britain. Except the snakes are big.. and.. they hold big axes.. and.. cast spells.” This confidence was paper thin and torn apart the first time I found myself in extreme pain and in need of immediate aid. All would fade to grey, and my hopes of becoming prosperous in this Lost World faded with it.

I dropped the life of a warrior completely. I stuck to Delucia and cowardly saved up for a trip home to Britain. I began mining and crudely repairing armor for travelers that came through. There was one knight who told me a tale of how he regularly fought dragons and daemons. He frequented the forge and no matter how badly beaten his armor, his spirit never wavered and he kept going back.

I decided then that I would no longer slave over the armor repairs of other adventurers. It was my turn, and it would mean giving up tailoring, and mining, and risking everything to learn new skills and purchase better equipment. My carefully collected savings, that safe trip home to Britannia, purchased me enough equipment to learn archery and taught me how to resist spells. I would face these Ophidians again, and this time I would have the upper hand.

Months later, I arrived at Delucia’s forge and set down several suits of my own expensive armor and weapons for the young smith before me. I knew this consignment would take him some time, but it would serve him well. It would give him enough time to realize that the adventurous spirit of this tribal Lost World, and Britannia in general, is beyond the safety of the guards.

Of Britain – By Savaric

(Editors note: This is an entry recorded before Savaric became the infamous undead Lich we all know and “love”)

“Britain!” I exclaimed!

I had heard so much about it. I was fresh off the boat from Haven and I could not take my eyes off of the splendid buildings that lay before me. It was a miracle, a God-send, this place full of people and life. My skills as a Ranger were at the apprentice stage, but I had already managed to make a very fair-haired equine my companion in this continent of promise.

I gave my steed an apple I had bought in Haven, and led it down the alleys to the finely made bank north of the docks. I deposited my non-essentials and mounted up. My bow and arrows were at the ready as I left the Western Gate Bridge. The Companions in Haven said I would need armor once I was off the sheltered island. I had studded sleeves of armor to protect my arms. They were a unique green color, a color that was to be useful in my profession. I would have to stalk the game of the area to earn my keep, leather and meat to sell to the provisioners in the town.

The cobblestone streets and massive structures turned to woodland. A hart dashed before me on the road! I fumbled with my bow and felt for an arrow. I loosed an arrow and it hit its mark! I felt like somebody for the first time in my life. The second arrow felled the animal. I had pulled my skinning knife from its sheath as I dismounted. My hands shook with excitement. I had succeeded! Leather and meat, I could not help but yell those words!

I went about the business of skinning and field butchering the animal when I heard a tremendous crash! I cried tears of sorrow. My horse had been crushed by a huge club and the laughter of an ogre filled the air. In a rage I slung an arrow into its leg. It was a mistake.  The club sent me flying and I landed on the road. Somehow I was not dead. The Virtues must have been with me. I picked myself up and started running. I was pursued. I ran until my stamina gave out. I saw a small bridge ahead, but something was blocking it. It was a leathery orb with a huge eye and stalks protruding from its body. There were eyes on them too! I had never seen such a thing! I was stunned by the sight, and then everything went black. I was out of my body. I could see myself lying there, as the ogre stripped me of what I possessed. I knew not what to do. I saw a heavily armed woman on a steed rip into the ogre with her sword. Blood spilled everywhere. I yelled at her in my ghostly state. She turned and smiled. She said “It will all be alright. No one is dead forever in Sosaria.”