[IC] The Million Isles: Path of Har Hend

[Goradh]

Officer’s log, Watersday, the 10th of Felling, 643 CE, the Dune Sea

My service under Commander Dundach has come to an abrupt end. Late last night, while standing guard on the ramparts with Len Duros, we encountered an intruder who claimed to be on the run from demons. I was certain that he was lying, given his entrance to the fortress where he threw a smoke bomb and attempted to evade Duros and myself. But after sounding the alarm, we quickly cornered what turned out to be an odd race similar to a monkey. I have never seen the likes of which before. He gave us a long rambling story that the Osmeri capital had been sacked by demons with glowing blue eyes and that they were heading here next.

We were able to convince him to come along peacefully. Truth be told, I’m not sure if we could have contained him given how nimble he was. Commander Dundach interrogated him and seemed to believe his story when we began to hear shouts from the outside. The storm had finally broken. It was the first time in weeks since I last saw the moon. Then, cries from the southern wall turned our attention there. Pillars of smoke were rising from the direction of Belmouth. While the smoke appeared to be far closer than the large port, it did not bode well for its inhabitants.

Commander Dundach, against my protest, ordered Duros and I to travel to Castle Hend to deliver news of these potential invaders to the Baron. I did not want to leave the fortress on the eve of a potential attack. The commander also instructed us to bring the little monkey-creature, who called itself Menk, along for the journey. And now, I do not feel at ease traveling with him, but he did warn us about the attack, so I must put aside my grievances for now. We were provided several riding beetles and left within minutes of being given our orders. Commander Dundach was organizing a scouting party to investigate Henk’s story and the smoke to the south-east. We rode until dawn, where we noticed three dark objects in the skies above us. I fear what sorcery may be lurking about us.

We rode until noon, where our beetles needed rest and shelter from the harsh desert sun. We have constructed camp near the foothills of the Jagged Peaks. Both of my companions have taken rest while I maintain watch until the beetles are ready to move again. I do not know what to expect when we arrive at Castle Hend. The story seems outrageous at first glance, but Baron Har Hend must ------

[The next line appears off-centered and almost a scrawl compared to the previous writing]

The three dark forms that I spotted earlier are back within sight. They are moving against the wind, and in the direction of our camp.

[Len]

You find a book full of Len's scribbled handwriting. Flipping through the pages, you find a series of entries you deem worth reading

"Didn't get much more than a wink of sleep before those winged men attacked us, but after the battle I was so awake that I didn't mind packing up and continuing the ride. After seeing the blue eyes of those demonic looking people I didn't feel too inclined to rest anyway. Menk seemed off put by them as well, but once he figured out how to use one of their flying devices he perked up a little. He actually preferred traveling with the flying pack over the beetles, to which Goradh took advantage of and loaded up Guapelle with more equipment we pinched from the man-creatures that attacked us. I kept a wicked looking sword one of them was carrying. The lot of their loot has an uncomfortable air around it, but I hate to pass up any opportunity I come across. Here's to hoping we find time to get a nice hot meal while we are in Har Hend."

*turns page*

"Still hungry. Once we arrived in Har Hend and met with the Baron in his tower, things began to take a turn for the strange. Balloch Hend didn't want to believe our plight at first and laughed at our claims, but once we showed him the items we obtained from the demon men that attacked us his expression turned dark. He took particular interest in the yellow gems that powered the flying devices, and then beckoned us to follow him to a room hidden well underneath the keep. A giant yellow gem rested in the stronghold's depths that was once used to protect the city by ways of magical sandstorms by the previous baron. Unfortunately it drove the baron mad and was locked away for years. Balloch Hend seemed to have a mad glint in his eye when he approached it, so I don't doubt the credibility of that story. The gems from the winged flying devices the demon men used reacted to the crystal and it was revealed that the enemy could track our actions through the gems, so we promptly destroyed them. The baron feared for the worst and ushered us to some hidden tunnels that lead out of the city. We're to continue onward spreading the knowledge of the incoming attacks. Once we surface from these tunnels I imagine we'll move out once more. The lack of rest and food is starting to wear on me."

The next entry is barley legible; it looks as if Len's hands were shaking heavily as he wrote it.

"The city... is already under siege. Some demonic weapon just tore through the baron's tower, erasing it from existence. I can see the light from the fires beginning to engulf the city even from our faraway vantage point. Goradh, Menk and I can only watch onward in horror as we we make our escape; there is nothing we can do now but continue and try not to let despair overtake us."

[Goradh]

Personal Log, Firesday, the 17th of Candel, 643 CE. Aboard the Excelsior, traveling in the Great Sea towards the Million Isles.

It is with a heavy heart that I bid farewell to Redwain. Along with Len and Menck, I have boarded the ship ‘Excelsior’ at the behest of Marquis Freewind. A few hours ago, we departed this broken continent in search of new lands and relics unearthed during the great tidal wave that coincided with Versperax’s alleged destruction. The Marquis has proven to be one of the few allies left in the world to House Har Hend and arranged passage for us on this vessel. It is my first time aboard a ship, but I find the rigor and precision among the crew as something I can grow accustomed to. I am uneasy with using Kaldarian technology, but this was the path set before us by our benefactor.

My thoughts still return to the events at Castle Brecia. While I do bear responsibility for the alienation of several of the other ruling nobles, our house was abandoned in their time of need. We chose action instead of words. Now that the threat has passed, the sacrifice made by my people mean little to those who seek nothing more than the next advantage.

In many ways, I am relieved to no longer face the stares of sympathy, regret, and shame that I saw on my way to the ship. Every other house bent the knee before Vesperax’s forces. But House Har Hend did not. We never surrender. Our people may be gone, but we chose death as preferable to enslavement. My only refuge from questioning whether I should have died with them is the memory of Bar Hend ordering us to warn the King Rothis of the coming onslaught. We were forced to watch the destruction of our homeland. We convinced the pompous nobles of Redwain to take action instead of wait helplessly for their doom. We stood in front of the mightiest force ever to set foot on Redwain, and we emerged victorious.

And the reward for our sacrifice was exile.

The storm has passed. Versperax is allegedly destroyed. His soldiers have no memory of their deeds and are shells of the beings they once were. How can my nation avenge itself with the monster now gone? What purpose do I have, with retribution no longer possible? Service to Har Hend is the only thing that I have ever known. And now, I have no one to serve and no one to take vengeance upon. A rage has built inside of me that I do not know if I will ever be able to purge.

Now, I fear what our “agreement” to the Marquis will bring. I trust Len’s judgment, but the Marquis plays the same games as the other nobles, including that coward Count Osmere. I will not be a pawn to those without honor or courage. The only purpose that I can set myself to is the rebuilding of House Har Hend. Be it on a distant isle or on the site of Castle Hend, we will rise again.

This I swear, by Claw and Venom.

[Goradh]

The airspeed hummed above the congested traffic lanes of the Wheel as the group of outlaws headed back towards the Dawn Drifter. In spite of their dire circumstances, they had run into a bit of luck at Soonu’s pawn shop. Such good luck, in fact, that their technician wouldn’t shut up about his latest find.

“You don’t understand what a travesty it is that someone had to pawn it, or was too foolish to realize what it was they were getting rid of! “ Xanu said, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Who got rid of what?” Grungadon clicked through his translator.
“Please don’t encourage him,” Torl said from the back seat. “It’s been all doom and gloom since we got marked, but for some reason, finding an old piece of scrap makes him think we’re in the clear.” The Ithorian looked back cautiously to see if they had picked up another tail.
“This isn’t some old blaster pistol that a starry-eyed colonist lost the moment he stepped off his freighter,” Xanu interjected. “This is a BlasTech DL-19C pistol! It has nearly limitless customization potential! I can overcharge the actuator, optimize the energy flow, or even attach a grappling launcher if I were so inclined.”
“All of that sounds great. Why didn’t you get one for me?” BB3 whirred from the driver seat. The astromech droid seemed to be happiest when it was either piloting or shooting at something.
“This isn’t a very common model. They don’t pack the raw power of the DL-44, so they aren’t as widely circulated. But it’s a gem. I’m sure the person who sold it didn’t know what value it had. Look, that scavenger stripped off any modifications that were attached to it. I can tell by the scratches and grease marks.” Xanu said as he held the pistol in front of him.
BB3 beeped back sarcastically. Ommin eyed Xanu and spoke in his usual measured tone. “For someone who cares so deeply about machines, it surprises me that you’re this excited over one that can do nothing but take life. You didn’t seem half this enthused when we found out we were able to keep the Dawn Drifter. Didn’t you say that having your own ship was your dream?”
Xanu slouched slightly. “Look, I know what Prince Xi- err, our benefactor said. I still worry that his goons have placed something on the Drifter that will make it very difficult to keep her hidden and truly out of anyone’s grasp. So I guess I can’t really say that it’s our own ship yet. I’ll feel a lot better when I’ve had the chance to comb through the ship’s computer and examine the hull.”
“Agreed. There are too many people on this station to keep an eye on. Anyone one of them could toss a homing beacon onto the ship,” Torl said.
“Never mind that. What were you saying about adding modifications?” Grungadon clicked. “Never hurts to pack extra banthas!” The group stared at Grungadon for a moment. “What, is that not how the idiom goes? I can’t trust this universal translator worth a damn,” he replied.

“Uh, anyway… Yeah, attaching the modification is the easy part. Any of you can do that. The hard part is adjusting and calibrating the settings to really get some extra juice out of it.” Xanu cracked a smile. “That’s where I come in. You get me some extra materials, and I turn a basic rifle into an unstoppable killing machine.” He looked at Ommin. “Or, you know, an unstopped stunning machine. If you’re into that sort of thing.”
Ommin continued his glare as the buildings zipped past in a blur. “Xanu, for as skilled of a mechanic that you are, why do you use your talents on this pursuit? Surely your time could be better spent fortifying our ship or upgrading the swoop bikes.”
“Hey, I’m up for modding any type of hardware. Thing is, upgrades to ships cost a lot money. The kind that we don’t have right now. ” Xanu peered out over the landscape. “Maybe if there were some jobs that we could take, or if I had the materials for building more weapons and had a buyer who I could trust…”
“Soon as we find that treasure ship, we’ll have all the credits that we need,” BB3 whistled. “Then I’ll be able to buy my own fleet of ships. Airspeeders, all the different swoop bike models, and maybe an X-Wing or five. I hear those are the pinnacle of flying. You could probably buy your own shop with that much money, Xanu. Hey, do you think they’d let me keep the actual ship once they haul off the useful tech?”
“It’s just a legend. I don’t know what they think we’re tracking down for them. No way would the Black Sun trust us with a haul that big,” Torl said, ignoring the droid’s continue whirring.
The entrance to the hanger bay loomed in the distance. “Well, I guess we’re going to find out soon. If Reuum’s droid has been delivered, we should be able to take off shortly. Not that I wouldn’t mind playing a few more hands of Pazaak,” Grundagon said wistfully.

The airspeeder pulled into hanger where the Dawn Drifter was docked. Panthato, the Black Sun mechanic assigned by Spoke, waved to the group as they got out of the vehicle.
“Hey guys, I think we’re all set here. You’ve got your new transponder, ship logs, and I’ve modified the energy signature, so your ship shouldn’t be tracked by anyone looking for you. Oh, and those people just picked up your droid for you.”
“Thank you, Panthato- wait, don’t you mean that those people just dropped off our droid for us?” Ommin said, a hint of alarm in his voice.
“No, those people, right down there. They said they were here to pick up the droid, so they picked him up. They’re right by the blast doors,” the Aqualish pointed. The group turned and looked on in horror.
At the other entrance to the docking hanger, a familiar looking blonde human could be seen with two men hauling a silver protocol droid into a hyperlift sled. She turned back and, noticing that the group had spotted her, let out a mischievous smile as she pulled out a blaster and fired at the control panel. The blast doors closed instantly, leaving the group without their droid and their means finding the Sa Nalaor.