Psistorm's Adventures

Camelot as my new home.

2011-05-16T11:46:00.000-07:00

My first steps into Camelot were so long ago. So many battles, so many decisions made since then. My first guilds were not the Knights. I had trained with the Brutes for a while, then visited the kensai, then dabbled a little into magick. At some point, I even wandered the path of Chaos as both POEE and ELF. I finally made my way into the knights, thinking that my worldly experience would be such a boon. Sadly, it was not. Everything I needed to be a successful knight was contained within Camelot. So much of the world has changed since my early days of knighthood. Maybe it was my own perception of things that had changed so much. What used to be a simple world that was easily traversed eventually became a huge world full of new exploration. The skills I had picked up in the other guilds meant very little. In fact, most of my skills had come to mean very little.

I had spent the past few years training squires and yeomen. I put forth so much of my own energy into them, sharing my experiences, training them in the ways of war, and seeing many of them becoming heroes of their own right. My last group ended not so happily. I had a squire and four yeomen. Each of the yeomen were equipped with some of the finest gear, and two of them had developed psychic abilities. In combat, we could tear most opponents apart in just a few seconds of combat. One yeoman had a glowing green axe, one had a flux sword and flux dagger combo, one had a flamra spear, and the last had a flux sword and flux shield combo. My squire had been equipped with a blessed golden greatsword. Against the vlekthids of Syllyac, we were unstoppable. Their mind tricks meant nothing to my disciplined mind and psychic defenses. I had recently developed a yearning for questing, and knew that the Underdark region of Zadnothruin held many quests. After crushing the vlekthid and purging their city, the thirst for adventure took us to the deserts of Ebiria. A fortress there had a dragon issue, and what knight from the tales of yore could pass on the opportunity to slay a dragon and save the princess. There was no princess. Only the dragon, whose fiery breath made short work of most of my yeomen and my squire. I ended up having to slay the dragon on my own, having sent the younger troops fleeing from the beast's fiery breath. It was a long road to recovery from that. My surviving yeoman had lost all of her limbs save for her torso and head. It cost a small fortune to get her back to full health.

This meant I had to start a new class of recruits. There are always so many issues when dealing with the new recruits. They are undisciplined and often times better suited to life on a farm than on the battle field. I vowed to take better care of this group. I gathered a new squire, and five new yeomen. I even picked up a horse for myself. I gave my battle standard to my surviving yeomen. It would slow her progress and allow the newer troops to gain a few levels. I hit all of my usually spots, dismayed at the lack of power in this group. It was all the same equipment, and the newest recruit was equipped in chaos gear and an iltarix/meratarix combo. None of this batch seemed viable for guilding. The elf was rejected from the elflords (who seemed to be going by a new name), the thond was unable to prove himself to Clangedin, and none of the others had what it took to be in any of the guilds. And trust me, I tried getting them in. Even my squire seemed oddly inefficient. She was unable to turn undead and was very sparing with her heals and prayers.

After a few round of my usual tour, I took this group back to the vlekthids. On the way there, we passed some large cat creature in the darkness. I figured it would be an easy fight. Before I knew it, the beast was upon us, and it seemed like nothing we did even affected the monster. I tried issuing a tactical retreat, but this group was unused to my commands in Latin, and by time I issued the commands in Anglic, they were too wounded to effectively fall back. I tried to cover their escape, but this infernal beast would appear in one location, but able to attack from another. We were ripped to shreds in short order. I even sent a request for backup to an old associate of mine. Our paths diverged long ago; her path took her to the Ringwielders. Not even her impressive powers dented this creature. I had to make due with just recovering the equipment from my fallen followers, and making my way back to the surface.

This most recent loss made me re-evaluate my own path. I had traveled the world, but what had that really gotten me? Maybe it was time to go back to my wanderings-- to be a Knight Errant once again. This new world seemed to be offering new foreign places to visit with each passing week. While some places remained very familiar to me, like Zadnothruin, the catacombs, Shadow Tower, and Losthaven, there were many new names that I had not explored. My time with the Kensai was long ago, before anyone had even heard of this place called Hanoma. That seemed like a good place to start. I left behind most of the accoutrement of the knighthood, taking with me only my holy longsword and the gifts given to me by my squires. Unable to bear the weight of the items once held by my devoted followers, I pawned most of the gear most of it could be easily replaced once I started a new class, but until then, it was just dead weight.

In Hanoma, I joined a small group meditating to clear their minds. One was able to levitate, but he did not use psionics to do so. His flight came from what he called a 'chakra'. I needed to learn more. Maybe their teachings would help alleviate some of my dependence upon my own mental powers, something Lord Yehovah frowned upon. I joined their small cabal. Despite my many talents and plethora of skills, I still needed much training in order to even manifest ANY chakra. I have yet to determine how Lord Yehovah will respond to the use of chakra energy.

While I was still on the island, I spent some time with my old master, Musashi. He had learned a few new tricks since I had trained under him, and it ate at me knowing that I had left his tutelage without having these new abilities to show for it. It seemed that I would need to dissolve myself from the knights for a while to improve myself fundamentally. I went back to study with Musashi. He remembered that I had originally trained with the sword, and initially gave me that title, but I requested to be trained in Unarmed Combat instead. the martial arts that he had demonstrated to me was all unarmed maneuvers, and that was what I wanted to focus on. It seemed that the years that had passed had robbed me of much of my knowledge of the philosophy of war, so there was still so much that I had to learn.

Psistorm's History, Part 5 - Camelot Bound

2009-08-26T10:06:00.001-07:00

At least with the southern route, there was a road to follow. I met another deryni along the way. He had some potions that I liberated from his dead body, but otherwise he had very little to say. The next fellow I met was a little on the strange side. He was dressed all black and had shadowy daggers--definitely not a friendly looking fellow. I put on my brightest, friendliest smile and went to introduce myself. His response was to reveal his fangs and lunge for my throat. As if the shock of that wasn't enough, his daggers were particularly painful to my delicate deryni flesh. Deciding that cowardice was not beneath me, I made good on my escape from this Danpiru and continued south. A few paces away, I came across a tiny hill filled with Lems. I wanted no part of that, and realized that I was starting to get very anxious about finding Camelot. I left the Lems to blow up on their own, and eventually found a road sign. With absolutely no literacy, I was able to clearly make out what the sign said, though there were no indicators for Camelot. The sign informed me that to the east I would find a dock to Devonshire, and to the west I would find Losthaven. I was lost enough as I was, so I ventured eastward to the docks. Ten paces away, I found the dock, as well as a yeti mounted on the back of a gold dragon, with four other dragons surrounding him. I just knew death was immanent. I wanted to bolt, but I remembered that animals are usually attracted to sudden movement, so I very slowly started backing away.

Fortunately for me, a ferry showed up. All five dragons boarded this tiny vessel barely big enough for two humans. The ferryman made his announcements, then promptly booted four of the dragons off of the boat. The foul language I heard as the boat departed was an indicator that this was an unexpected occurrence. within a few minutes, the golden dragon came back in from the east. The yeti rider handed out some gold to each of them, mumbling obscenities under his breath. Assuming tat his ire would be directed at the ferryman instead of myself, I inquired about the location of Camelot. I was directed back to the ESP (which I soon realized stood for the Eastern Sign Post that I had read earlier), and to go 2w1n.

I obviously failed to understand his jargon, but I did find the sign again, and wandered around in its general vicinity. It took me a while to wander around enough to find the entrance to Camelot, but eventually I did find it. At long last, my quest was nearing completion. All I had to do was go inside, ask the knights for help, and my village would be saved. They were knights, after all, and duty bound to help those in need...and we were definitely in need. A sense of near completeness, of giddiness, and of stern resolution crossed over me as I entered the gates to the city.

Psistorm's History, Part 4 - Discordian Values

2009-08-20T10:31:00.000-07:00

Ah, the bar! Ubiquitous place to learn about quests, hire adventurers, and gain much needed information about whatever it is that you seek, plus you can take your fill of a variety of delightful substances. I saddled up to the bar to try to listen in on the ambient conversations. I couldn't hear a thing over the bumping music from the revelry area. From what I could see, this place was not sanitary. One of the drinks looked like a fecal sludge that dripped from a hole in the wall. Every drink that I saw pass its way down the bar was not the familiar amber colour I was expecting. Even the water in this place was an odd colour, or rather colours, since it never seemed to be the same shade any time I happened to glance at it. I tried to ask the barkeep about Camelot and the Knights, but I had no idea if the sound of my voice even left my mouth. There was just no end to the music, no pause in between songs, no breaks at all--just non-stop music and revel. With my head thumping, I made my way past the bar, as if instinctively seeking out some sort of refuge from the cacophony of noise.

As I entered the small alcove, I was momentarily stunned, both by the sudden silence and by the lack of flashing colours. As the high-pitched ringing in my ears began to die down, my eyes were able to adjust to a consistent light level enough to make out three figures surrounding an odd table. On the ground was a pile of arrows and a single crystal club. What was I about to get into?

The three figures were at least talkative and mildly interactive. Any question I had about the knights or Camelot was answered cryptically in reference to this Zarishi table. Maybe it was a divining machine of sorts, and would show me the answer I sought? I had heard of such things in my fables.

The rules of the table were simple. I had to place a wager with the individual called Rex, and then supply two weapons for this Krismus and Maddy to play with on the table. Seemed basic enough. I tried to gauge the skill levels of the participants, but apparently that didn't matter. Rex claimed that they were almost equally skilled, but I think it was a limitation within the weapons supplied, and the fact that Rex was a poor judge of weaponry. Since someone had left me a pile of weapons, I decided to test my luck. Being that there was one club,and a lot of arrow, I figured I should put the club against the arrows,one at a time. My line of reasoning was that even if the arrow was faster, it would break a lot easier than the club.

I placed the crystal club, which just barely classified as an actual weapon, and one of the arrows on the table. Krismus and Maddy seemed delighted at this,and moved into position to play their game. The weapons animated, and began a series of basic maneuvers. Sure enough, the club broke the arrow. Rex had set the odds at 4:1 in favour of the arrow, though. I guess he was basing this on how much damage the weapon would do in combat. The club was a clumsy weapon, while the arrow was sleek and somewhat elegant. The arrow could kill at a distance, but the club required you to be at a very close range. Still, my deciding factor was that the arrow was a thin rod of wood that could snap easily, and the crystal club was a thick mass of solid hard stuff. My wager of 10 gold soon became 40. The game had destroyed the arrow that had been defeated, but the club remained on the table like a miniature champion gladiator awaiting his next victim--so I gave him a series of next victims. as the pile of arrows shrank, my pockets swelled with gold. Eventually I had so much gold that I couldn't even carry it all. Taking what I could, I began looking for a place to spend my loot.

At the back of the Temple, past the revelry, there was an open courtyard with various small shops set around the perimeter. In the middle was a huge statue. statue = boring; spending free loot = fun. I started out to my left and went shop by shop seeing what was available for sale. The first shop I hit was a Lizarman smithy. Saurax was his name, and making shaper items was his game. I went for a shaper full suit of adamantium, and he custom fit the thing to my body like a glove...a very tight fitting glove. This armour was so form fitting, it almost looked like I was naked and has an adamantium-coloured paint on my body. Still, it was some highly effective armour. I added on an adamantium cape, an adamantium belt, and an adamantium sword. Buying all of this nearly wiped out my funds, but I was able to go back to the zarishi table and make it all back in a matter of minutes. After my pockets were full again, I decided to tempt fate and put my adamantium sword up against the crystal club. Bad mistake. Crystal club was broken almost instantly, and the table was holing my sword captive, waiting on the next round of battle. Damning my bad luck, I headed back to the courtyard. I skipped the tattoo parlour, put away a little bit of money at the bank, and went through Citrina's to see if there was anything particularly interesting for sale. while looking over her goods, I realized that I could make the shaper suit start changing colours. The effect was nauseating, but perhaps that was intentional. A nauseated foe cannot fight as well.

Nothing in Citrina's thrilled me, so I went to the last store in the square. Lucanius the elf, merchant of magickal goods. He had probably the best prices around, but his selection was terrible. It was a handful of rings, a couple of amulets, and some potions. Slightly distraught, I went back into the courtyard, though I didn't get very far. There was this mountain of a man outside of Lucanius's shop. He had a few rhymes, but they were stiff and seemed very scripted. The man did not seem very smart at all. I knew him to be Fezzik, and I asked about his Brute Squad. Instead of allowing me to join, he sent me on an errand to fetch him a drink. Screw that. I'm not some go-fer. Once I eased my way around him, I proceeded back through the revelry and into the outside world of normalcy, glad to be rid of the chaos I had just endured.

To the east was ocean,and to the north, those stupid mountains. That left me the option of taking my adventures south, or back west where I had come from. South it was, then.

Psistorm's History, Part 3 - Cosmic Battles

2009-08-18T15:12:00.000-07:00

Glad to be done with those stupid dead elves, I made my way back to the north, to follow the mountains once again. I had made it all the way to the coast, and not a single hut, village, city, or even a sign of life. The first sign of life I even found was a stupid seagull. Wanting to vent this frustration, I tried to attack this stupid annoying bird. Even more frustration built up when I found that I somehow ~couldn't~. This bird must have been some sort of marker and was protected by the gods. Maybe the pillar that just appeared out of nowhere would hold a clue. Easily scaling this obstacle despite several images of falling to my death, I made it to the top to find a lone human at the top. He wore white robes, carried a white staff, and spoke in an odd, chilling language. I don't know what he said to me, but the next thing I knew, I was encased in ice. This worked out well enough since a few seconds later, a man in gilded armour arrives in a flash, with the words "Zay has challenged such-and-such for the title of Blessed Guardian". The name was kind of garbled, though I don't know if it was due to the ice around me, or due to the name just being odd to my Deryni ears. I was assuming Zay was the ice mage. His tactics were becoming very obvious by this points since within a second, the gilded warrior was encased in ice as well. This ice impediment did absolutely nothing to prevent him from throwing elbows, jabs, and knees at the white mage, quickly ending the battle by causing blood to spurt from the mage's diminutive chest. Since my ice was cast fist, mine melted first, and I took that opportunity to make my escape before frozen elbows and knees started flying my direction.

Down the pillar and due south, I soon found myself at the based of a spectacular temple atop a lightly wooded hill. I ascended the hill and started looking around. There were two guards posted at the front of the temple, but they seemed to be mostly symbolic, since they made no effort to stop anyone from entering. They didn't even acknowledge the existence of any being passing by. I was much impressed by their discipline.

Just past the guards, I discovered that this temple was not exactly the picturesquely serene setting I had imagined. Naked revelers were dancing everywhere, and the music was tremendously loud. I staggered through the chaotic mess to the center of the first part of the temple. Standing by a large altar was a woman with magnificent, almost otherworldly, features. I immediately understood that she was named Dara, and was in charge of this revelry. By her side was a barely visible wizard--I left him to his business, since any time one sees a wizard among the mortal realms, they are tending to wizardly business and have a tendency to not react well to disturbances.

I was correct in my assumption, both of wizardly attention to something, and their negative reaction to being interrupted. From somewhere within the altar arose a figure dressed in seamless black armour. This figure immediately attacked the high priestess, invoking the name of Chardros several times to twist and contort the poor woman's body and cause her to wither away. A few quick slashes of an axe later, barely a heartbeat had passed, and the ordeal was over. The priestess lay dead upon her holy altar, and the assailant was walking away. An odd, darkly picturesque voice echoed from within the form of the attendant wizard, "That will never happen again..."

A few seconds later, Dara is fully renewed at her place by the altar, only now, she crackled with power. The immediately enveloped herself in an aura of energy that shifted all through the spectrum, summoned forth a glowing black brand upon her chest, surrounded her hands with bands of crackling power, and wielded a ghostly, opalescent dagger. Her very presence seemed dramatically more powerful, and her otherworldly features became even more pronounced, as if she were no longer human anymore. I sensed wizardly power was the cause of this, and immediately left the scene. Exit, stage left, and I headed towards the bar.

Psistorm's History, Part 2 - Lothlorien

2009-07-23T15:04:00.000-07:00

Upon leaving Borgo, I decided to try to find the closest town and find some way of buying a horse. The world was a big place, and I knew very little of it. Having a horse would at least expedite my lost wanderings, so perhaps I could return to my village and be done with this quest. At the very least, I could wander around some, admit defeat, head back to Borgo, and pass off the horse to one of the warriors.

I followed the mountains eastward, and found a cut through. On the other side was a place of ice and snow, and furry spiders that apparently enjoyed jumping up and splatting themselves on my wooden sword. Why was I even carrying this stupid sword? It was of no assistance to me in combat at all. Bad enough I had this stupid little scrap of armour, there was little reason to add to the insult by continuing to carry a wooden sword. The only good that came from this frozen land was I found the body of some unfortunate soul, and I promptly liberated him of his chainmail hauberk, lightning amulet, longsword, and ring. The ring, for some reason, repulsed my hand, but I held onto it anyway. Perhaps I could pawn it for enough to buy a meal.

I tried my luck at finding a pathway back to the other side of the mountains. Apparently there was more than one pass, or else I was completely oblivious to the huge door I had passed earlier. There it was, just a huge door set directly into the mountainside. No handles, no knocker, no anything; just a huge door. No amount of coaxing would open it up, so I decided to explore a side path, hoping to find a way around this door. All I found was a hungry troll.

The amulet I had found came in very useful during this confrontation. It discharged a blast of electricity that stunned the troll, and I hacked on it long enough for it to finally die. This sword was much nicer than the wooden version of it. As a reward for slaying this beast, I found the might Orcrist on his body. This almost made up fr the fact that I was now missing my left foot. Taking my new toy, I hobbled my way back down the path. Heading south, I stumbled upon a grove of golden trees. In need of healing, I stepped inside, expecting...I don't know....maybe a city? All I got was a single elf and a lot of woods. The elf was of no help. I asked for directions, and he just stared off into the woods. I waved my hand in front of him...more staring. Frustrated, I leaned up against one of the trees. Balancing on one foot was beginning to take its toll on me. The bark was amazingly smooth on this tree, and as I started to examine it, I could make out the letters 4212 NEWS. Useless graffiti. I made my way into the woods, alone, and after at least a half hour of the same stupid trees, I came across another elf. This one seemed to be guarding a rope ladder. At least it lead somewhere.

Atthe top of the ladder was Elfworld. Elves everywhere. Knowing the legend of Orcrist, I figured the elves would be glad to have it in their possession once again. The meager 200 gold they paid for it told me otherwise. I went hobbling around town looking for a healer, when all of a sudden the image of death descended upon the elven people. The first three archer fell over like sacrificial lambs before this menacing creature's axe. The assailant looked vaguely like a minotaur draped in a cloak of death, with a skeletal face and glowing eyes. His axe, on the other hand, looked like he had plucked a demon from the aether and forced it into a bladed shape designed to separate souls from flesh. The weapon, known as Yogbeveerforgot, was apparently aligned to the god Chardros, and I was in the presence of one of his Champions. A few more elf bodies were added to the pile, which then vanished in a dark haze, leaving behind a grotesque sculpture composed of the skulls and bones of the victims. The minotaur tossed a few fresh bodies onto this obscene altar,and seems to revel in its grotesque glory.

"Don't take my loot", was all that was said as he put away Yogbeveerforgot and brandished a menacing crystal greataxe. More bodies were sacrificed on the altar. His combat prowess was most impressive. On the offhand chance that I could not find Camelot and the knights, maybe this creature would be of assistance ridding Borgo of its evils. I followed him inward into the city, awe struck as he left a bloody trail through the limp elf bodies. It wasn't until he got to what I assumed was their queen that he encountered any problem. She mumbled something about a protector, and presto! A half-elf appeared from nowhere, a look of utter shock on his face. A few dark incantations later, the half-elf's grey sword and spear were torn from his hands, his body was tragically disfigured, and every limb was completely disabled. He bolted, and the queen elf fell before his crystalline blade quickly. The blade seemed to enjoy the taste of her flesh. Seconds later, the half-elf was back, limbs fully intact.

By that point, the dark minotaur had already collected the corpses and proceeded back to his altar. As I inquired about how he was able to recover so quickly from such a thorough beating, he revealed that he was also a follower of Amaterasu. Noting my missing foot, he laid his hands on my stump, and my foot magickally regrew. As impressive as that was, it paled next to how quickly the half-elf's wounds were now healing. At least I had my foot back, but I was no closer to finding the knights. I asked the half-elf about it, and he smugly told me to try Camelot, then left. Great bit of help that was.

I checked around the town. No living creature was spared the wrath of this dark god named Chardros, not even the silent elf at the bottom of the ladder. Even without a shopkeeper remaining, I noted that there were very few shops, and none of them sold horses or maps.

I had wasted enough time in this treetop village. It was time to move on. Despite all of the carnage, there was surprisingly little gore at the scene of the altar. This fellow was rather neat in his slaughtering, and even picked up all of the loot off of the ground. At least he was considerate. I passed him on the way out, and e seemed to not even notice my departure. Perhaps it was best that way.

Psistorm's History, Part 1 - Borgo

2009-07-22T14:27:00.000-07:00

Life was simple for me, once upon a time. I was living in the town of Borgo. The people were a superstitious lot, but they were more afraid of Vampire and Werewolves than they were of a deryni that had untold mental abilities and could be reading their minds. I didn't need to be a telepath to know what was going through their head. Predators abound in the dark woods around the small village, and strange things went bump in the night. There were may predators luring about, and the humans were their predominant prey. Stay indoors and protect yourself at night, and try to make a living by day. Like I said, things were simple.

Being a deryni, I had several advantages over the typical human. I had not had any real training in the use of my mental powers, but I did have an instinctive need to survive, which pushed some of my talents to the forefront early. I learned early on that levitating out of reach was a simple fix for the land-based werewolves, and a majority of other things that would prey upon the village. Flying also made me a bit more work for vampires to try to catch, so they would also go about catching easier prey.

Usually attacks on the village ended rather quickly, with one or two villagers missing, and the rest scared witless. I always did what I could to comfort those in need. Usually I ended up recounting tales of the legendary Knights of the Round Table to the children. It helped take their minds off of the fact that one of their parents was just eaten by a monster. It also filled them with hope that one day a knight errant would come riding in on his white charger, armour gleaming in the light, to do battle with the monsters that plagued our village. It worked, for a while.

Eventually, though, not even tales of the gallantry of fair Camelot, with its brave knights and maiden of the court, would bring any amount of hope to the village. The monsters were killing us off one or two at a time, with ever increasing frequency. Soon, there would not be enough of us to even band together to fend off the smaller of the wereboars or werefoxes. Even the gibberlings were starting to pose a threat to us, and I could usually fend those off completely unarmed. Something drastic had to be done,and it had to be done soon. The village elders, the last 7 adults of the village aside from myself, called a meeting to try to come up with a solution. One of us would travel to Camelot to find King Arthur, and tell him our our plight. He was a fair and just king. After all, he was fair and just, and he had recently founded the Knights of the Round Table. If he was anything like the stories, surely he would send a brave knight back with our messenger. Our fastest, strongest, and more charismatic member of the village would go forth and bring back our salvation.

I began looking at the others, to see who it would be. Everyone had their strengths, and reasons for going. What whatever prideful reason, they decided not to let any of the women go. That narrowed the choices down to three. Whoever was chosen, this would be the start of a new tale, and a new era of safety for our village. Whoever went would be a hero.

Gustav was strong of arm, and vicious with a pitch fork--he had earned several scars in personal battle against a mighty werewolf, and lived to tell the tale. He lost an eye that night, but gained a strong reputation as a fighter. Surely, the warrior kindred of the knights would readily accept him into their midst. That level of bond is almost instinctual. He had already lost his wife and his eldest son, but he still had two children to bear his name proudly when he returned. Gustav was a fine candidate.

Olaf was a fine smith, and had strong shoulders from pounding on steel all day. He would be able to talk shop with the armourer of the knights, and have an excellent way in to visit the king. After all, the armourer of the Knights must be an important man. Olaf had lost his children, but his wife was expecting another child in the fall. Surely he would have the knight back in time to make it safe for his next child to be born without the threat of being stolen away in the knight if it so much as cried. Most assuredly, Olaf would make a fine candidate.

Garrick was new to our town. He had strange customs from his original home, but he was a good man. He was a natural jester, and people loved him. He was also a fine swordsman, more than capable of holding his own along the road to far off Camelot. He had years of merchant training in his past, which would help him barter for a horse to speed him along the way. He had no family here, but several times he had cursed the existence of the predators around us. Maybe when he returned, he could finally settle down with a nice woman and make a family for himself. Another excellent candidate, indeed.

Which one of the brave men would be our savior? Looking at their eyes, I was hoping to find some glimmer to help the remaining elders decide who would go. Would they have a volunteer? Would they draw straws? Would there be a contest like in so many great tales of hope and adventure? And....why were they looking at me so expectantly?

I had lost my entire family long before ending up at the village. Luckily for me, the woman hired to help tend to my needs as a baby was a wily old woman who managed to get me to the relative safety of this village after whatever accident it was that took the life of my parents. I had no connections to the village by means of family--I had no reason to want to return. The other three were skilled fighters, with great strength of body. My strength was in my mental talents, and even those were weak. My strongest ability was that of Empath, which is how I was able to calm everyone's emotions down after a particularly gruesome attack. I could use my mental powers to assist in my strength, but for the most part, I still had to use my physical muscles to get anything done. I could levitate, very useful for avoiding bad guys, but not a very fast form of travel. I would be better off on foot in all but the worst terrain. No, it would be far better that one of the warriors go. I had no business assuming that I should be the one to play the part of the hero. I had no right. This wasn't even really my village. I was just sort of here. Everyone else had a reason to be chosen, a reason for going, and a reason to return. I was just a simple deryni with nowhere else in the world to go.

And yet it was deemed that I would be the one to go. I was to be the herald that brought back salvation for the village. I was supposed to be that hero.

That was the beginning of the disappointment. I was not hero material. I was pretty average across the board (until I amplified my natural charisma with my mental abilities). I was just a peasant. I knew the stories of the knights, and of all of the heroes of yore. I knew what a hero was supposed to be like. I knew that I fell very short. Like I said, the disappointment was just starting. The mere fact that there no longer is a village of Borgo, that is my penance to bear. Had one of the others gone, there may have been a chance. Instead, I am all that is left. And so begins my tale....