Hawkestone Family/Swainson's Journal

The Journal of Swainson Hawkestone, Adventurer

August 15th, Far East.

Well, it's been a few days since I been in this realm. I still can't make head or tail of this war that's supposed to be going on. One minnit it's on and the next it's off. Makes no sense to me nohow -- I don't know how the knights keep it all in line. Mayhap they just follow orders and don't ask no questions. Not sure I'd be much good at that.

Sometimes seems like being a noble's more trouble than its worth. My Da was a noble and he was never happy that I recollect. Leastwise that'd be why he made free with my Ma, who sure wasn't no noble. She might of ruled the tavern, but that was all. She sure was pretty though for a bar wench, even after she got older. I can see why my Da wanted her instead of his uppity wife.

Not that Da wasn't uppity, but leastwise he learned me some things. Like how to write and fight and figger and speak nicer. I miss the homeland, but when my half-sister Kestrelle got made Prime Minister I knew I had to make tracks. She killed Da and she'd probly have me killed too if she knew who I was.

Leastwise I got one of my Da's old swords, named Onslaught. Fine shape still. I just have to make enough coin to keep it oiled and me fed. Blade's sharp as ever too. Just me and Onslaught now in a realm I don't know yet, fighting giant critters that would love to have me for lunch. Except I'm having trouble finding them these days.

I don't really want to be put in jail again neither.

August 16th.

Coming up empty on the hunt. My sword Onslaught and I are getting mighty bored. Looks like I'll have to find out what unholy critters think is tasty and start spreading it around as bait.

As long as the tasty bait ain't meself, that is.

Met with a sage today. Now them is unfriendly buggers. Been hiding out in the wild so long that they don't know how to be sociable. Leastwise, the ones I've met so far haven't done me a lick of good. This one told me that my goods weren't valuable enough and started going on about getting all sort of junk - unicorn horns and wyvern scales and the like. Horsefeathers! I think them sages just make this stuff up and then wait around for some greenhorn to come wandering by so's they can laugh at him behind his back. I can't see why they don't make decent armour out of my good piece of leather like every other craftsman worth a damn.

Mayhap I should just put out a sage as bait.

Nah, methinks they're so stringy that no monster worth his fangs would bother.

August 29th.

Getting a mite low on grub, and my purse is pretty thin these days. Them monsters and zombies ain't much more populous over here neither. Never heard telling of cowardly monsters afore, but that'll be what I'm starting to think of them all.

Mind you, there's so many of us adventuring types around that by the time a monster's spotted, the poor critter has half-a-dozen of us hightailing off after it! Small wonder they're getting jittery!

I must say I wasn't overly fond of that there boat crossing a few days back. Fair gave me the staggers, it did. Not the actual sea-journey, mind you. I got my sea-legs well enough and I'm the capable sort. It's the other passengers I'm meaning. Bunch of rich fools came with a crate of wine for the drinking -- well, by the end of the crossing that wine was all over the deck, and it wasn't from the bottles it spilled, but from their bellies. I'm thinking if they didn't have the stomach to handle the sea, why make it worse by drinking? Now I like a good mug or two myself, but give it to me on shore when you ain't heaving up and down with each passing wave.

So in the meantime here I sit with my empty purse and empty stomach. Some might think this is a fine life, free to wander and do as you please, and in the comparison some might be right. But a warm bed and a full belly would be more to my liking right now.

I'll likely never have a full purse, so no sense wishing on the evening star for that.

September 1st.

My sword Onslaught and I finally spied a few nasty critters. About time too, as my pockets were getting mighty lean. I won't say much for the rest of meself, as lean seems to be the going rate these days. You'd think them noble folk would appreciate the service we're offering, but no, can't see their way clear to offering us beast-hunters some tasty victuals once in a while.

Although I did hear tell of bounties set by the occasional lord, but the rumours fly so thick and fast out here that you'd be a fool to believe half of them.

Went poking around for some odds and ends, and what did I find but a severed hand tossed in a bush. Well, I must say there weren't much left of it by the time I found it -- worms had chewed half the flesh clean off -- but no sooner was I about to throw it back when a gentleman passed by and told me he'd give me one silver for it. One silver for a hand! I never heard the like. I was downright gobsmacked at the very idea.

Then this gentleman said that it was a thief's hand, cut off for stealing, and that certain dark wizardly types use it to make something called a Hand o' Glory. Somehow they set it burning and it protects them from robbers. Well, I didn't understand half what he said nohow, but I certain didn't want the thing. I said he could have it and he just grinned, gave me the coin and said he'd "crossed my palm with silver". Leastwise I think that's what he said. Fair gave me the shivers, he did.

I spent that silver on a room to lay my head and get some shut-eye. I don't know why exactly, but I just felt I had to get rid of that coin, and right quick too...

September 5th.

Must be a better beast-hunter than I thought. Been wandering around for days and nary a sign of them. Not even a monster claw to be seen. Well, of course the villagers go on about how they pretty near trip over the critters, but if I listened to every wagging tongue then I'd be travelling in circles, I would.

Started off for the next region over. I'm a long way from my chosen base, that's for certain, but over there is a war and I'd just as soon avoid all that. I'm no noble to go die on a battlefield because my lord said so. Can't really see the point of that nohow.

So now I've arrived in a nice enough place. Woods all around and mountains in the distance. Can't say I'm much for the city, too crowded and stinking and bloody hot in the summer. I go for the selling and the drinking and the occasional friendly wench, that's about all a city's good for.

If I could find coin in the woods, I'd rather just stay out here. But I suppose I'd have to join the sages for that sort of life, and I'd rather take to the city all my days than be one of them snooty know-it-all bastards. Got nothing better to do than send us adventuring types off on wild goose chases. Laughing in their sleeves the whole time, I wouldn't doubt. Bet they each have extra huts just to stockpile all the stuff the make us give them.

Now if one of them sages asked me to find a severed hand like I did the other day, I'd be right pleased to oblige -- just so's I could slap the scrawny little bugger in the face with it, maggots and rotted flesh and all. Now that'd be worth a search!

September 14th.

Back in a city again. Ain't been to this one before. Seems a nice enough place, on the coast and all. Not about to wander down by the docks, mind you -- the stink of them sailor types will knock you flat. You'd think surrounded by water they'd smell a bit better. Mind, I'm no bed of roses myself, so I reckon I ain't one to judge.

It's not till you enter a city that you come to notice the good clean scent of the woods. That and the quiet. Here's it's all noise and stink and shades of misery. Or mayhap I'm a mite cranky since I ain't found a tavern with decent ale yet.

Only way I can ever stand a city is with a bellyful of ale.

Just here long enough to sell my paltry few things and leave. Never do like the looks of them militia types, neither. Snooty buggers. Can't come to the conclusion that I'm earning a living just as honest as they are. But no, they serve the nobles so they just stick their nose in the air at the likes of us.

Have to wonder about my half-sister Kestrelle at times like this. Prime Minister of Lasanar, living in a city I don't doubt, tons of servants in a palace or somesuch. Fair gets me to pondering the way life works. Same Da, different lives. Not certain which of us is the happier, neither. Leastwise, not many of the blue bloods I've seen appear real happy, despite all their money.

September 26th.

Onslaught and meself finally got a visit from Lady Luck! Mind, it was in the form of grey-faced shambling zombies, but I'm in no mood to be overly particular when it's my livelihood.

Tracked the unholy beasts straight to their lair, I did, but sure enough they was a bit too tough for me to take all myself. Felt meself getting worn out, so I reach into my pocket and threw some water blessed by the last priest I visited. Old beast-hunter's trick -- them undead can't handle blessed water nohow. They back right off, they do. Then you can run for it.

Leastwise I managed to pick up some coin from their lair. No clue what zombies want with money anyway. It ain't as if they can just wander up to a marketplace and buy things. Like as not they'd give the shopkeeper a heart attack first, then the zombies could just pick up whatever they like. Who needs coin for that?

Then there's the question of what they'd want from a shop. Zombies don't eat, sleep, wear clothes (unless you call their shrouds "clothes"), or bother with jewels and frippery. Seems that just about covers what any sensible body would need money for.

Mind, could be zombies are like magpies -- just go for whatever is shiny and collect it. Certain there be plenty of shine in coin and treasure. Still, sounds like a boring life even for undead. Not to wonder they get up to mischief, I'd say.

Seems to me I'm doing them a favour by bringing some excitement to them. Leastwise I give the zombies a decent fight. Guess I ain't killing them neither, since they already be dead!