Chapter 2: From the Notes of Tarkin...
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Pharast 4, 4710 AR
The Stolen Lands are a cursed place filled with wicked people and creatures. I, more than most, know this to be true. I am a bandit in the employ of The Stag Lord, or at least I was until I was captured by a gang of butchers. I was tasked by my boss - Kressle - to take part in a protection racket at ol' Oleg's. An easy job, just shake down the spineless couple for their coin and bring it back. Then we tithe a portion of that off to The Stag Lord and we get to keep living comfortably. Well, apparently some people don't care much for that.
A group of men set upon us during our travels and killed ol' Happs before he had a second to react! Gregg'ry tried his best, but was taken out, too. I almost envy them now, for I was captured and have been put through hell by these men. They dragged me back to Oleg's Trading Post where they proceeded to torture me. They even had some barbarian tearing at my knees with his teeth! If I wanted to live, they told me, I'd have to give up the Stag Lord. Sad to say, I ain't that well connected, but I could do the next best - I could lead 'em to the Thorn River camp where Kressle and the rest were staying. I figure with that sort of information they'd let me go.
Well, don't I look stupid for thinking that?
Before long, we were up and marching into the forests of The Greenbelt. There were six of us altogether: me, the murderous orc, that clever one, a talkative weirdo, the barbarian, and another newcomer. They didn't seem to all know each other too well, but they all seemed adept at doling out punishment - something I learned quite well. When they stumbled on some kobolds eating through a crop of moon radishes, they flew into a frenzy and murdered all but one. I was starting to see a pattern here as they tied the yammering, clawing, biting creature to my back. They didn't know a goddamned thing about this place and were interrogating any survivors that had the unfortunate luck to cross them. My hopes for getting out of this situation alive were slowly dwindling.
Three days after we set out, we came upon the Thorn River camp. Sure enough, Kressle seemed spooked with Happs and the rest of us not returning from our job. Everyone was on full alert. The group that I was with - these trained killers - didn't seem daunted by this at all, however. They just waited. The sun began to set and I watched the scene unfold from the tree that they tied me to along with the kobold. They murdered sentries during their watches. They assumed their identities. They even doused the campfire that was the last saving grace of my former companions. There was the brief clash of blades before I could hear screams of terror and surrender.
Only when there was no sign of light remaning in the sky did the orc return to remove the bonds from me. Flecks of blood still spotted his armor and I knew that somewhere in the camp another of my former friends waited in ropes similar to mine now. I can only hope that they honor their deal and let me go.
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