Prologue (Part 4): Recently Sacked

 Sleep is uneasy, and dreams get all the more peculiar when you've been drugged and then hit over the back of the head. I dreamt of a staircase rising out of the stone, the uncomfortable attention of a man with pale skin and golden hair, water so deep it was black, trying to drink enough wine so the storm will leave our ship alone, a friend who was okay because he was on fire, and a rusted city in the desert of glass were monsters sang to each other from the tops of towers. Finally, I dreamed of being stripped of all my possessions, put in a dirty robe, and tied to a pole. Must have been a portent, because my stuff is gone and I'm tied to a pole.

 I think they chained my right hand to it, too.

 Paranoid bastards.

Alana woke groggily, finally breaking out of the drug's influence. Unfortunately, it's a bad thing when the drug was hiding a splitting headache and daylight. The halfling's temper instantly flared.
"Ahhhhh fuck! My head!" she reached up and grabbed the pained organ.

It took her a little while before realizing that her arms weren't responding as she wanted, and her headache was getting worse. She managed to open one bleary eye, swearing and cursing at the daylight and why her arms aren't moving and-

"What the fuck! Where the fuck is my stuff? Why am I tied up?!"

"I see our feisty little princess has awoken," some man sniggered to her right. She flinched at the noise - it sounded like somebody just swung a club into her ears - before snapping her head in her captor's general direction.

"Oh fuck you, Abondagondro offal," she snarled, trying unsuccessfully to get out of the ropes that bound her tightly. She had to reel back a little bit when the headache rebelled. The man looked down at the small female and laughed, before angling his head slightly behind her. It was then she felt the shift in the rope, and her right hand was jerked back a little. Ohhhh goddess damned ass-stick mule of a bastard. He's chained me to some other jerk!

"Got yourself in a little bother, din'tcha?"

Prologue (part 3): Future Slave

 When I look back, I probably shouldn't have been travelling through the Wild Plains on my own. Come to think of it, mustering a couple of allies would have been a much better idea before investigating three men dragging someone off in a sack.


 When I look back, I think I should probably have made a greater effort to be stealthy as I sidled up to their camp. I probably should have found a better hiding spot to spy on them. And as I watched a slaver stripping some poor unconscious fool of their gear and clothing, dressing them in a dirty robe, I probably should have been thinking, “Hey, where are the other two guys? Could they be sneaking up on me with crossbows? Is that a curious little boar poking me in the back with both its tusks? Do boars tell people to put their hands up?”


 Now, when I look back, I can see a thick wooden pole, the rope tying me to it, and the other person, tied to the same pole. I think they chained my left hand to it, too, paranoid bastards. They haven't stripped me of my clothing, yet, but they took my weapons and gear away to a nearby tent. If I don't want to be a slave, I need to find a way out of this. And if I don't want to be poor, I need to find a way into that tent.

To be honest, Thurvald Drake was still better off than the individual one pole-side away from him. At least he still had his clothes. And consciousness.

The issue, however, was also his current state of attire. Wearing rope that the pole and other prisoner happened to share as well meant that he wasn't in the best of positions to take on his captors, or escape. And, yes, the chain will pose a problem too.

Thurvald looked about him, and then towards his captors, all three of whom were in cheerful discussion.Pretty soon, two of the burlier men cast sneering glances over at him before turning around and leaving the shabby campsite. At this point, he felt the tension in the rope grow as whoever it was started to wake up behind him. He turned his head to one side.
"Psst! Hey, are you alright?"

Prologue (part 2): The Liberator

When I got to the Wild Plains, I decided the best course of action in getting started at this adventuring business would be to find some slightly more experienced adventurers and try and get a feel for it. My first adventuring group practically found me; a charming half-elven fellow sat himself down on the bar stool next to me and told me I looked like the adventurous type. After he elaborated I figured that it wasn't an awkward pick up line, but that he was looking for heroes to join his band of adventurers. That was how I found myself in grouped together with Vim Vexley and the Liberators.


 They had pledged to fight against the slave trade that was plaguing the land. However, rather than simply charging at every caravan head on on the off chance that they were slavers, they had a scheme to canvas each one. Vim and I would distract the caravan by appearing to be lost travellers looking for directions. While we had their attention, Spider, the halfling rogue, would sneak in from behind and check out the caravan. If she gave the signal that they were slavers, we would attack, with the warrior Rogan providing crossbow fire from the treeline. If they were just merchants, then we would simply bid them farewell and leave.


 I have so far been with the Liberators on four such missions, but we have yet to find any slavers. Vim's benefactors finance us well with each mission, no matter the outcome, so it isn't a lost cause, but I can't help but hope that the next mission is a bit more interesting.

 All sorts of travellers in the Wild Plains wandered far and wide, but they and Nathaniel Te'ressa all had one thing in common: they were always well-armed.

And as the half elf duo wandered down a path well-trodden with gleaming longswords swinging at their waists, they were well aware of the dangers at every corner, around the trunk of every tree, and perhaps even down the road. As usual, both companions were arguing heatedly, snatching a crumpled map to and fro and gesticulating in wild abandon.

"Look," Vim Vexley demanded, jabbing an elegant digit at a random spot on the map, "we're supposed to be here by now, but we're not! You've gone and led us in the wrong direction!"
"Don't look at me like that! I certainly wasn't the one who decided to turn left when the sign clearly pointed 'Solemn Trail' to the right! You took us down the wrong turn and now I'm getting us back on track!"

There was a flash to their left, and Nathaniel and Vim both paid it great heed, while still arguing. They'd spotted a target down the road! Time for Operation Diversion.

The two carried on down, looking fairly obviously like a pair of travellers that had wandered down the wrong path and are now-

"-lost! Clearly we should've taken the turn at the fork half a mile back!"
"What do you mean! There's clearly a fork up ahead! That's where we need to turn!"
"I'm telling you, you've got that map all wrong!

They crested the upper part of the path just before it dipped lazily. Sure enough, off on the side of the road not far off was a parked caravan and two tents. Two tough-looking men and a bored-looking elf seemed to be guarding the site, and all three were watching them closely now, unusually alert. One of the men turned to the woman sitting in the tent and spoke to her, but Nathaniel couldn't hear over the top of their 'heated debate'.

Then the elven woman stood up and moved to the covered cart and the man started approaching them. Show time!

Prologue (part 1): The Caravan Guard

 Once I reached the Wild Plains, I sought to find work and raise a bit of money. It wasn't long before I got a job guarding a caravan for a cheerful, fat little merchant named Bertrand. He told me I'd come highly recommended, and I jumped at the opportunity to work for him. He was paying well and made sure all his guards were very well equipped. All I had to do was fend off any brigands and protect Bertram and his daughter Anne. With the high quality armaments and the help of the other three guards, Mack, Brinn and William, it was probably the easiest guard duty job I was going to find.

 It turned out to be duller than expected. Aside from a run in with a group of goblins, the days were fairly routine: follow the cart, protect the cart, don't go in the cart, share a tent with three surly mercenaries, stay away from the boss' daughter. Now, we are only two days travel from our first destination, the charmingly named hamlet of Eye Socket.

 It had been boring work so far, and Ripley knew it. Still, with an extra ten gold pieces jingling in her pockets and a wonderfully-crafted rapier sheathed at her waist, it was boredom the elf could deal with.

The woman glanced at the others in her company. The other three guards... they were quiet, and very uncouth. If it weren't for her own weapon expertise, they looked the sort to jump her slight self at any moment, whether it was to cop a feel or other more unspeakable things. They were setting up camp right now, as it was getting late in the afternoon and the calm summer breeze was starting to turn a little chilly.

Anne - a girl not more than sixteen seasons, sat as silent as she'd been throughout the trip at the front of the carriage.

"Right-o!" Bertrand jumped down from the rider's seat, slapping his plump little hands together and rubbing it enthusiastically. Something in the back of Ripley's head fired. He looks... nervous?
"Ripley, Mack and William, you guys continue setting up and guard the camp site. Brinn, you're coming with me. We're going to a trading client," he announced. He waggled a finger at the three he'd pointed out before, "and nothing untoward to Anne, or I'll have your hides!"

There was a chorus of 'yes sir's before Bertrand was satisfied, and waddled off with Brinn at his side. Mack glared at Ripley, and the elf was pretty certain these two burly men - who'd worked well together before anyway - didn't trust her enough to guard the merchant's daughter.
"You've got tent duty. Make sure nobody nicks nothin' from there," he commanded before stomping off to tether the oxen and stand guard by Anne. Ripley huffed to herself a little bit, but eventually ducked into the tent, sitting herself just outside the flap so as to have a good view of the campsite, Anne and the two guards.

It hadn't gone by more than an hour before her ears picked up a kerfuffle further down the road. It sounded like... arguing?

"...lost! Clearly we should've taken the turn at the fork half a mile back!"
"What do you mean! There's clearly a fork up ahead! That's where we need to turn!"
"I'm telling you, you've got that map all wrong!"

Introduction to Path

Hello and welcome to Path of the Trailblazer, a story that follows the journeys of four heroes in a world known as "Conduit".

The tale is based heavily on a DnD 3.5ed campaign currently being run, and therefore its updates will follow each session as well.

I do hope - my dear readers - that you will enjoy the story, told at first from the perspective of my character: Alana Trailblazer, with offshoot perspectives from the other characters as seen fit.