18 stories · 30 notes
The Scavenger gangs, their camps, their leaders and their feuds.
At Scavenger Camp with Mineshaft
Dieter fares well, cease your prattle! He has shovel and fortitude, he'll be out of the mineshaft shortly. Perhaps he plays a prank on us, that scamp.
Pray tell, did you put some provisions in there, Hans..?
All the same, he'll survive.
Aye, the chest was fine bait... though we had some need of it... fie, should have considered this before...
At Scavenger Camp with Mineshaft
They nigh blew me to smithereens, those scoundrels!
"Dieter, go witness! We discovered a chest in the new tunnel, I swear it! Nay, Dieter, 'tis no jest, observe for yourself!"
My mouth is choked with dust, and my hands are numb from digging! My nails splinter... I am famished.
Vicious curs! May the Shroud take you all!
I could tell they were advancing from the smoke that was on the horizon. Many fled, but I stayed.
They are snarling outside the door. I will hold this house, as my ancestors would have done. I hid our treasure under the stone stairs. It will be safe and sound, far away from their clutches.
When they come, I will be prepared.
You know as well as I that the last haul was too good to share.
Those cutthroats wouldn't know a good blade till it slit through 'em. We're doing 'em a favor if you ask me. I stashed the sword in the last place anybody would look… You know the cave well enough.
Let's keep it between you and me, alright?
Yolanda is still weak.
She can barely lift her body from the bed... She sleeps, has hot and cold flashes at night. I muffle her pained grunts with the pillow. We can't let them know we're here.
They're always out there, prowling, shrieking through the night. We're surrounded. I don't want them to be our end... I want peace. I'll be by your side forever. I promise.
I love you, Yolanda.
— Alienor
We've been held captive for three days now. Weak, struggling with no food or water. This may very well be my last testament... So let it be known: The Scavengers are creating new horrors that I cannot unsee.
Scavenger Matrons who've grown fat with gluttony are turning the dark laboratory in this encampment on themselves by injecting Elixir, flooding their veins.
These Gorgers will spit poison and lob corrupted vials at their prey — avoid them at all costs!
If I do not survive here, consider yourself warned!
Listen you lazy brutes — Our leader, Sameth, demands we dig more Elixir Wells! This will give us all the Elixir we could ever need!!
It will be dangerous work, but the risk is surely worth it. Dig, you fools! Or face the wrath of Sameth!
Sameth, your greed for the Elixir cannot be quenched! You keep it to yourself when you said you'd share! You LIAR!
We, your people, DIE for you in those tunnels! For what? We banish you from our midst! Go now — or we will show you the strength of our numbers! Find your Elixir somewhere else! This is OUR mine!
Sameth has been slain!
His body rots, tied to the mycelium pillar as a warning to all! We will elect a new leader, one who will not rule by fear and gluttony... One who is just and truthful!
The Elixir will be OURS!
Esteemed Investigator Lachlan,
I write to you personally with dire tidings. The Revelwood lay restless, stirred by the Elixir. Disappearances of cargo and people plague our lands, and now, the province of Glennwood's End has ceased all communication with the crown.
The town has shown great fealty to me, their one and rightful King, in the past — and I shall repay them in kind.
With your many illustrious years of dedicated service, I hereby command you to seek out answers and report back with great haste.
Signed,
King Gormander of Meldore, son of glorious Pikemead, grand patron of the Revelwood and Springlands, 21st of Yearfall, 502 D.A.
My Illustrious King — I write with troubling tidings. Glennwood's End is falling to ruin. It is as if a great cloud of sickness and decay has settled over the principality. The people have let their homes, roads, and daily way of life crumble... all this due to "The Elixir".
I have taken samples from an unlawful distillery and am studying them behind bolted doors. Expect another report post-haste, your grace.
Investigator Lachlan, 35th of Yearfall, 502 D.A.
His Excellency, the benevolent King Gormander of Meldore, demands justice for the murder of Royal Inquisitor Lachlan.
The delivery of his severed head to the King's Court was an act of aggression that is punishable by death. May the King's retribution be a swift lesson that the laws of Meldore and all of Embervale still prevail!
From the King's royal advisery, 50th of Yearfall, 502 D.A.
"What a hovel", I thought. Bunch of bandits, rotten crooks, and half-wits, itching to shank another over a game of cards. The crew is rowdy, but a few days of digging in the mine mellow even the toughest of brigands.
A single promise binds us together. "Elixir for all".
I hope Sameth is a man of his word.
BUILD HIGHER! The tower must reach the zenith and rival the grace of the sun itself! Matron Leandra demands so! I've procured the finest castle stone — find it at the tower's back.
Only the best for Matron Leandra!
You'd think queen Jezmina would travel with style — some class, yes? Some luxury? Some Elixir, right? NOTHING! Just... paints and pillows— pah!
At least I found an Almanac of Plants and Seedlings in Jezmina's tent. I'll just pretend as though there wasn't any other loot if Simon asks. Hope I can fool him... keen-eyed, that guy.
Other than my private little treasures, there's barely anything for Surat's Rest... except the dried Yucca Fruit, maybe. Don't tell matron Kendal! They're mine, too!
Thor came back from that scouting mission last night. He chucked this dusty bag with scrolls at me, and said it's the only thing they could scavenge. I know that fool well enough to see when he's lying through his teeth!
My old friend pocketed a treasure for himself, but I won't rat him out. Instead, we'll gift that almanac to the matron as a tribute.
And the treasure — well, Thor will have to share. Whatever he looted from Queen Jezmina's tent will be stashed away at his favorite spot, I reckon. After all this time, he still hasn't found a better hiding place than the top of that old watchtower.
Date: 13th Day of Midyear, 507 D.A.
Number of Inmates: 53.
Warden on watch: Cassandra Wynn
Notes:
Another revolt. Our dear prisoners are rowdier than ever. The new inmate, Lupa, riles them up. Spat into the Quarter Master's face during lunch. Left a burn mark on his cheek.
Other than that, nothing new. Valley was quiet today. Saw a Redtail sitting still, oblivious, until torn apart by a sabertooth tiger. Evening air was sordid.
...Shroud is creeping closer. We all see it. No one mentions it.
How do a cell and a watchtower differ if they imprison you all the same? Are we awaiting our demise in here, unable to fly away, to flee? Watching the enemy prowl about, deluding ourselves into thinking we're out of reach?
I think I've seen everything this outlook has to offer.
Remember, folks: The planks need to be stacked just right! DON'T mess up the placement — the Tanning Station must be built exactly how the matron demands it!
Need a refresher? Here's the instructions. If you scoundrels can't read, call Amar. He'll spell it out for ya!
Dearest Lupa —
When we got separated, I was beside myself with fear. I searched and searched for what felt like days... only to encounter Rodalton, a thief from Umber Hollow who said you'd been taken by the Contractor. Why is he taking children down into that wretched place? Despite his cruelty, this thief assured me you were still alive — albeit a prisoner.
He promised to slip you this note. Sister! I know you well enough to say that you will not remain shackled for long. When you do escape, return home, and we shall have our revenge!
Lovingly,
Kendal
Sister! Have my notes reached you? I've missed you greatly this past year. That vile Contractor locked me up in a cellar on Jasper Isles, but your predictions came true: He couldn't keep me shackled for long! I'm so sorry I've been out of touch, but I've had to keep my head down...
Umber Hollow isn't any better or worse than Surat's Rest. Two sides of the same coin, like us! More tavern brawls, perhaps — but nothing I can't handle!
The Nomad Highlands are without order. One day, Kendal, we must eclipse this chaos. What do you say?
Your sister,
Lupa
Lupa —
I could wait no longer. With bated breath, I traveled to Umber Hollow to confront the Contractor. At knifepoint, he told me that you'd escaped out of the frying pan and into the fire! He said you'd been arrested and barred away in Raven's Keep! Do not worry. His throat is slit, his body cold. He won't bother our family again. They all wither and die the same... mirrored pieces of the same puzzle.
Raven's Keep cannot hold you, sister! I will set you free. Stay sharp and ready for my rescue. We shall have our revenge and unite this land!
By your side,
Kendal
No man is left to cage us. There's no rule, no law...The days of crime and punishment, of right and wrong, are over.
All guards have fled, scurried away at the first sign of trouble like rats... leaving us to rot behind bars. Even I — ME! I said I was INNOCENT! Cowards. All of them. I pray they choke on dust!
There'd be chaos without the matron, Lupa. Even the rowdiest brigand whimpers when she steps near — she spits acid with every howl, making them cower and weep. Always a hint of ethanol in the air...
She's got a plan. There's no breaking through the gate, but.... hollow walls, she says — a cavern behind her cell. She's got help from outside... a sister, I hear. Perhaps we can break through!
WE BROKE THROUGH the wall!
Lupa tore the stones apart, and behind the rubble, there REALLY WAS a cave! As the dust settled, we were met with the ravenous glares of a Vukah clan... but nothing could phase us with the matron by our side!
She grovelled and roared, spat and crushed — In her blighted rampage, she nearly skinned them alive!
The way is clear, the skies are bright! We won't stop here! We'll claim the world! Raven's Keep is only the beginning! Lupa's sister will take Surat's Rest whilst we build a LAIR of our own to eclipse Umber Hollow!
The Nomad Highlands, no, perhaps all of Orindell will be ours!
GLORY to matron Lupa!
I thought the boneyard pass was safe, but "Lupa" has all trade routes in an iron grasp! They jumped out from behind a rocky pillar, rabid and wild. Trembling with rage. They recognized my face... found the "Nursery Supplies" in Surat's Rest. I knew they'd be my demise one day.
Catherine was right — there's no slipping through the new patrols. They are everywhere. They've confiscated almost all of my wares... At least I hid my chest before they caught me. But just how can I make it out of here now?
— Benni
Has anyone seen the hounds we confiscated from our prisoner, Lupa?
I left them roaming in the courtyard, but when I woke up yesterday morning, they had disappeared! I'm sure they must've just slipped away... but something tells me the sudden cold of that evening, and the strange howling around midnight were not coincidences.
I saw tracks leading to the nearby tower, but I'd be a fool to follow them! Can't we get an intern to check, instead?
So you had a chuckle doodling on my face when I was knocked out. Very funny. You know what's not funny?
I can't wash the paint off! I tried for hours to scrub your childish scribbles off me, but it's no use!
So all in all, great joke. Fantastic.
Wanna know the real punchline?
If I get my hands on the clown who did this, I'll rip his face off to use as my own.
I'll get the last laugh, I'll make sure of it!
Did you see the new Tyrant in Obsidia? Oh, she's haunting.
It's the way she cracks her whip on my back that gets me. How she revels in the gift of pain. Her wicked smile, her crooked teeth... ohh, it sends shivers down my spine.
I so hope she doesn't whip me, oh no no. I sure hope she doesn't find me here, slacking off, only to whip me.
Whatever would I do if she found me here and whipped me like the bad, bad boy that I am.
Being a "Scavenger" is so limiting, dull, and... grimy.
Perhaps you shouldn't have to spend all day drinking and fighting. What if a man wants to take a bath instead? A pure, beautiful, calm, scented soak in the Cromville Hot Spring?
I don't want to cut and tear, I yearn to splish and splash — to enjoy a steamy bubble bath with my lads, at a comfortable yet sensible distance! We could even dive for treasure! That's "manly", no? It would be fun!
People propose that my rugged physique ought to dictate my tastes, but why be covered in grease when you could smell like rose water? I refuse to yield to such a pretense!
I've put them in a chest inside the forge. Careful when you take 'em out — they're hot.
I'll take a break now. Don't look for me. I won't work on anything else until these burns clear up.