The Wicked Beckons

Ilheim's Last Campaign - Journey's Beginning

As I write this, I feel many emotions swirl within my heart like a bundle of serpents fighting over a small animal. There is anger, vengeance, hope, pride, and, as I think of my daughter, love.

We people of the valley, the inheritors of this blessed land which we call Yandekai, have been insulted—no, disgraced! There is a tribe to the east over the mountains who do not wish us harmony, but destruction. We have known of their existence for many years, and yet it is only now that we realize their true nature, for they have sent a raiding party to kill our men, steal our woman, and butcher our children. But, thank the Sun Gods, we know this dry land of sand and dust better any other people who may be beyond our tribe. The raiding party was ambushed and beaten.

After killing the bulk of their force, we captured the survivors and brought them back to our tribe. These men, if one could call them men, were unlike anything any of us had ever seen up close. They wore clothes made from reptilian skin, not a hair on their bodies, teeth that seemed to be as sharp as our swords, and skin that was sickly pale.

We questioned them, asking why they would attack us. They did not answer, only spitting where we stood. "My Lord demands your blood, Dirt Skin!" they would say. They would call us nothing else other than "Dirt Skin." After many attempts to get answers, I put forward the idea to the Grand Chieftain to let them die at last, and so we did, cutting their throats. After this encounter, we have decided to call these strange men "Otherlings," for the wickedness in their eyes was nothing familiar to us.

The Grand Chieftain, Gryndai, came to me near the end of the night when the sun prepared to rise, saying "I am tormented by this encounter. If we were more unaware of this coming raiding party, if the watchers on the rock towers somehow closed their eyes to the approaching threat, I would sleep no longer. I would stay up day and night hearing the screams of my people echo in my memory until my dying day. This threat to our people, these Otherlings, must be dealt with so that I may never fear sleeplessness."

And I said to him, "I am willing to travel across the lands which separate us from our enemy and bring justice to these monsters and their Lord, whoever he may be. I am willing to gather my men, equip my sword, and walk every night, perhaps even the day and endure the scorching sun if it means we can put an end to the Otherlings. Say the word, Chieftain, and I will do as I have said."

Gryndai did not respond for several long moments, and I began to think that he would not speak to me for the rest of our meeting until he spoke finally. "You are loyal, dedicated, fueled by forces of vengeance which I could only imagine. But you have a daughter. To lose a wife during childbirth is a great burden, I am certain that you know this well for it is what you have experienced, and so I hesitate to send you on war campaign. If you died, that Dayla of your's would be left with nobody. Do you not think of her when you say these things? Does it not strike you how much you risk in the very suggestion of such a voyage?"

His words struck me as they always do, if they did not, he would not be the Grand Chieftain. I contemplated what was said to me and responded, "I would rather her grow old in a world where the name 'Otherling' is only kept locked away in scrolls. You are not the only one who risks a life locked inside a waking state. If Dayla was hurt by one of those monsters and I was hopeless to stop them from putting a blade to her head and tearing off her scalp as a trophy, do you not think I would be torn to shreds within? I want them dead so that she can be safe, that is my only wish."

I had finally convinced him with my reasoning, and he gave me the order to gather a party to counter our attackers. Once the next night came, I, as Battle Chief of the raid, chose my warriors. They are capable, loyal, and motivated by the same thirst for justice which inspired me to begin this raid. Each one of them carry a sword that had been forged in the molten sun pit and blessed by the Shamana. We bring with us sacks of water and sacks of meat and fruits, as well as several tamed Bushki to carry our load.

Our journey begins with the next setting of the sun. I have told my dear daughter Dayla what I plan to do and that she will be looked after by the Shamana until I return. I do not do this for myself. I do this for my tribe, for my lineage, for my daughter, and for the Sun Gods who smile down on me at this very moment. This voyage will be remembered for centuries to come. I know it.