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!

October 10th.

Well now, my sword Onslaught and I travelled much further than I thought we'd get. Some of us adventuring types think we should stay in our home realm. I reckon what's the point of being an adventurer if you never see past your own border? Not much fun to that, in my mind. Home, for me, is this whole damn island! And I want to see all of it if I can!

Right now I'm on a plain in the middle of three great cities. Sure looks mighty pretty, all them towers glittering in the sun on near every side. Makes a fine sight both sunrise and sunset. Must say I like cities better this way, when I can admire them against the sky in the fresh air. Once you're walking in a city, half the time the stink of the place knocks you over so's you can't rightly appreciate it nohow.

Not found a great deal of monsters around these parts, but the view makes up for it.

Met up with a tinker a few days back. He and I got to talking, and just for fun I pulls out my journal and reads him some bits and pieces, seeing as he wasn't much for reading on his own. He liked the damn thing so much that he made me copy it down, and off he goes with it to one of the cities. Said he knows a man who can print it off and sell it if he takes a liking to it. Well, I was fair tickled by the entire idea. The tinker was probably pulling my leg, but he did take the copy and headed straight off with it. Not sure but maybe he'll do me some kind of good turn after all. Leastwise, I got nothing to lose for it, I reckon.

November 15th.

Bleak time of year, this. Woodlands have dropped their colour and everything turns grey and drear. Less bush and leaf for the monsters to hide behind though. I must've flushed out a dozen so far, and I weren't hardly trying.

Still have yet to find real treasure though. Oh, a coin here and there to line my pockets, it's pleasant enough and I sure won't throw it back! But I've heard a fair bit about the rare valuables that some find and I'm itching to try my hand. Hard to divide the truth from rumour though -- and those village folk do love to talk!

Light dusting of snow on the ground this morning. I better hie my way to a city soon, leastwise before the real cold settles in. Somewhere to the south might be a smart idea, I reckon.

December 24th.

Been neglecting me journal and here it's Yuletide already. Can't hardly believe it nohow. Damn, but these nights are getting cold. Ain't worth your life to sleep out in the open, leastwise not without a tent, which I haven't got. So it's back to the city for me, where there's ale and pleasant company to warm my bones.

Seems a strange time to be an adventuring sort, when all around are families preparing for Yule. Nothing more than human flotsam this time of year, I am -- me and the rest of us wanderers. Oh, I can still get me a few rounds of ale with stories of beast-hunting, but seems that kind of story is in less favour with the townsfolk. No, they want to hear tales about mercy and kindness and miraculous doings by angels all a-shining bright -- something to assure them that life isn't as bleak and cold as midwinter makes it seem. Me, I'm a realist living day to day, edge on to death, and right now my tales aren't wanted.

Never mind, leastwise I managed to sell a couple pretty trinkets to folk who needed gifts for their loved ones on the morrow. Must be nice to go home to families. Wouldn't know myself -- tavern wench that Ma was, she never exactly made what I'd call a home. I'd send Ma a letter if she'd ever learnt to read, which she ain't never done. She was fair proud of me when I did, though.

Anyway, Merry Yuletide Ma, wherever you are. I'll raise a glass of mulled cider to you tonight at the tavern, and mayhap the angels will let you know I'm well. That'd be miracle enough for me.

January 5th.

It's the New Year and I just left the last city behind. Leastwise the cold keeps the stink of the streets down. Can't handle them places nohow when the heat of the summer aggravates the smell. Just go in with your nose pinched, sell what you can right quick and hope you make it out alive.

Down by the shoreline now on the edge of a field, hunting up monsters. Gods, but this place is bare. Good thing I'm in the southern reaches of this isle or I'd have frozen my privates off by now. I surely do recollect what a northern winter is like, and I'm in no hurry to feel it again.

Mind, it ain't exactly tropical here neither. Them chill rains wash out the tracks a few too many times for my liking. Like now, for instance. For certain there's a monster or two around here, but damned if I can find a trace of them nohow. Never mind, there's a fair few trinkets that folks can lose in a field this size. Just a matter of digging them up, and that means a few more coins to line my pockets.

Cutting this short before that cloudburst catches me up. Big grey curtain of rain coming straight over the ocean, like I need more water. I suppose I ain't going thirsty anytime soon, but I'm starting to wish Da had been a shipwright.

February 20th.

My leg's been stabbing like a pile of knives. Ever since that battle with them undead two days back, I been walking with a limp. Damn if I hadn't run out of that holy water. I got to find me a priest to bless me some more. But I did manage to collect me some coin from them zombies afore I went down. I must say, I find it mighty strange that the zombies leave you alone if you play dead. Mayhap it gives them bad memories.

Must say, this place I've landed in is pretty easy on the eyes. Rolling hills, a river and a bridge going over to a city with pure white spires. Mind, I'd prefer it if it weren't so damn cold. There be a lazy wind come over the water -- one that don't bother to go around you, just goes right through you.

Must say that today was a better one than I had in awhile. Me and my sword Onslaught met up with a noble on horseback today, and for once we didn't get spit on. Guess that makes me a Freeman now.