展开事件内容（包含选项结果与剧透）
中文译文
| 旅人 |  14
| |
|---|---|---|
| 一名旅人来到你的营火旁。你可以选择： | ||
互动窗口
你看见远处有个旅人摇摇晃晃地走来，佝偻着身子，低声哼着，活像一只没翅膀的滴水兽。他的手杖在前方起落探路，隔着老远，你都能听见杖尖敲击石子的细碎声响。你命令弟兄们停下等候，让那陌生人自己走过来。终于走近时，他抬起了头。起初，你只能看见他的鼻子，其余地方都藏在斗篷里。他小心地嗅着，像一只失明的鼹鼠遇上了古怪的障碍。你正要问他是否安好，他忽然掀开斗篷，露出真容。面前的人疲惫不堪，步履蹒跚，连日失眠在眼角挤出了深深褶皱。他笑起来，泛红的双颊随之舒展，问能否在你的队伍里暂留一阵。
一名旅人在路边向战团打招呼。他说自己正前往某座城镇，不过也想歇一歇。他接下来想问什么，不难猜到：能否跟着战团过一夜？一名旅人拉着装有随身物品的小车，朝你走来。你让他靠近，随后举手示意他别再向前。他说自己只是个普通流浪者，只想去某座城镇。他先证明自己完全没有带武器，然后问能不能跟战团借宿一晚。一个吹着口哨的人沿路缓行，一条兴高采烈的狗跟在身旁，伸着舌头呼哧喘气。看见队伍，他把手杖插进土里，双手叠在杖顶。闲聊几句天气之后，他特别指出，飘来的云层里蓄满了雨水。他问，能否与佣兵们一道避雨。真是个古怪的请求，毕竟人们通常不会向赚血钱的人提出这种事。一个人沿路走来，肩上的铁铲上下晃动，另一只手提着一袋泥土。你问他在做什么，他说刚埋葬了兄弟，正准备返回某座城镇。袋子里装的是亲人长眠之地的泥土。这份情意值得敬重。他看起来疲惫极了——刚埋葬了手足的人，自然会如此。也许察觉到了你同情的目光，他问能否在战团里暂留一阵。你发现一个古怪的人沿路蹒跚而行。他穿着长斗篷，单肩背着行囊，一直盯着地面，直到看到你的双脚才终于抬头。面对整支战团，他竟毫不慌张，反而相当乐意遇见你们。他问，能否跟佣兵们过一夜，再继续前往某座城镇。一个拿着草叉的人正穿过绝收的田地。双脚蹭过死寂的土地，你看见一撮撮灰烬随风扬起。他走到路上时，你叫住他，问他从哪儿来。那人是个短工，只想回家。这一带已无活可干，连田地也真的干透了。他舔了舔干裂的嘴唇，问能否在战团里过一夜。不管怎么说，他看起来的确需要休息。一个提着工具桶的人与战团迎面相遇。在这种路上，独行旅人面对一整队佣兵，显然处境不妙。陌生人也正确判断了形势，放下东西，举起双手。你让他放松，问他准备去哪儿。他解释说，自己是从某座城镇来的石匠，那边的活已经干完了，如今只想回家。他的家人在一处农庄，离这里足有一天的路程。看起来又渴又累的石匠问，能不能在战团里过夜，养足精神再走接下来的路。
地平线上出现一个身影，在灼热的空气中模糊摇曳。那身影似乎停了下来，想必也看见了你。你没怎么担心，催着弟兄们继续前进，很快就遇见一个带着几袋杂物的人。他坐在地上，见你靠近也懒得起身。他解释说，自己已经赶了好几天路，很需要好好睡上一夜。顺理成章，他问能否在弟兄们身边歇下。你遇见一个虚弱疲惫的人。他说自己一直在寻找走失的狗，却已经快要放弃了。回家之前，他特意大声念叨：要是能跟着战团休息一晚，说不定就有力气再找那条狗一天了。路边有个人，秃鹫一路尾随着他。他没有受伤，只是累得筋疲力尽。他用沙哑的声音问，能不能跟着弟兄们过一夜。
你们围坐在篝火旁，天南海北地闲聊。旅人说的几句话，却在他离去许久之后，依然萦绕在你的脑海中。
"人降生那天，便迎来第一场战斗。陪他打这一仗的是母亲，而最后一仗里，他呼唤的仍是母亲。若我们能在自己身上看见指责他人的那些恶，号召拔剑的声音，也许就无人理睬。可悲啊，人们如此不愿审视内心；更可悲的是，刀剑一响，我们的耳朵却比任何时候都灵。"
你们围坐在篝火旁，天南海北地闲聊。旅人说的几句话，却在他离去许久之后，依然萦绕在你的脑海中。
"几个月前，我跟着一支探险队，爬到快接近山顶的地方。那是我这辈子去过的最高处！有个比我聪明的人觉得值得跑一趟，好把他那大镜筒对准天空。总之，我往下看，才看清这片土地被折腾成了什么样。城市、村镇、道路，像一片片粗糙拼凑的补丁，又像长在地上的小痣。货车跟蚂蚁似的爬来爬去，贩卖着从人、牲畜或土地上搜刮来的东西。森林里满是空洞，原先长在那里的树都没了。"
你们围坐在篝火旁，天南海北地闲聊。旅人说的几句话，却在他离去许久之后，依然萦绕在你的脑海中。
"诸位，多谢你们请我吃鱼，可我还是不吃了。听我解释。就在前几天，我给一个亲戚挖坑来着，因为他死了——毕竟，要在地里挖坑安置的人，多半都是死了。他是个远亲，住得却很近，就在隔壁。他得病死的，谁也说不清是什么病。不过只有他一个人得了，我想咱们应该没事。他走的时候，全身都绿了。你们可知道，那会是什么病？"
"没有？见鬼。总之，我替他挖坟，反正他也不可能自己动手。我挖得挺深，碰上了一大块老石头。镐子重重砸上去，柄断成两截，镐头也碎成了粉。我骂了声狗屎，都挖到这份上了，还能就此打住？石头，给我让开！可那块石头里有骨头。不是石头上，是石头里面。样子古怪，但的确是骨头。站在旁观者的位置看，死人这回事还真是熟悉得吓人。
总之，那颗骷髅头像在盯着我，审判我，问我‘你以为自己在这儿干什么？’于是我爬出那个坑，扛着表亲的遗骨跑回了家，那模样活像是偷来的。我心里不安，睡不着。一躺下，就觉得身下有成百上千个死人，有些死得太久，竟然已经和石头长成一体。全是死人，一直往下都是。我是说，一直往下，除了死人什么也没有！我不知道该怎么办，要是你还没看出来，这事到现在还让我心里发毛。
"
"后来，我决定不埋那亲戚了。我把尸体烧掉，将余下那堆还冒烟发烫的东西扔进池塘，心里说：“亲戚啊，你可不会变成石头。”
可前几天，我发现那些骨头被冲上了岸，肋骨里卡着条大肚子鱼。我猜它是贪吃，结果把自己困在了里头。我捡起那条鱼，捧在手里——这么说，我表亲也算被捧在手里了。鱼软趴趴的，眼睛鼓着，没了水这个眼皮，鱼都那样。可一条狗跑过来，把它抢走了。那狗飞快地吞了下去，想必也知道自己犯了罪。就这样，我表亲的一部分跟着它跑了。为了躲开那些吃人的石头，他逃离了泥土，却被一条小破鱼吃了；而那鱼居然又给一条自命正义的狗送了餐。现在你知道我为什么再也不吃鱼了。
"
你们围坐在篝火旁，天南海北地闲聊。旅人说的几句话，却在他离去许久之后，依然萦绕在你的脑海中。
"我参加过东征，赶补给车，运过数不清的盔甲、武器、马匹、粮食，你能想到的都有。见鬼，算来都是十年前的事了。那是人类最后一次真正团结起来，我猜，也是绿皮最后一次如此。两股力量撞在一起，把彼此撞得粉碎，也就没什么奇怪了。如今的世道，只剩混乱、传言、迷信，还有陌生人之间这些闲聊。"
你们围坐在篝火旁，天南海北地闲聊。旅人说的几句话，却在他离去许久之后，依然萦绕在你的脑海中。
"十年前，我打过众名之战。兽人与人类交锋，那是一场将名字刻进整个时代的战争的终局。要问我在哪儿，我跟着骑兵，在南翼，全是烂泥和沼泽。没错，都不适合跑马，可指挥官根本不听。后来一个兽人用长柄武器刺穿了他的坐骑，又捅穿了他本人。把马骑进那种烂泥地……真是个糟透了的主意。听说北翼打得好些，但也没什么意义。那场该死的仗，谁也没赢。"
你们围坐在篝火旁，天南海北地闲聊。旅人说的几句话，却在他离去许久之后，依然萦绕在你的脑海中。
"见过绿皮一刀砍掉马头吗？那场面可真够瞧的。不过我也见过马踢飞兽人的牙，再发疯似的踩踏，把它踩进泥里。我想，咱们总是忘记，马兴许比人还好斗。它们确实胆小，又爱好奇，可也凶狠得很。听说放着不管，它们常会彼此残杀，杀对方的崽子，连崽子的崽子都不放过。偏偏女人就喜欢咱们这两种东西，真是见鬼。"
你们围坐在篝火旁，天南海北地闲聊。旅人说的几句话，却在他离去许久之后，依然萦绕在你的脑海中。
"啊，众名之战。对，我参加了。先锋，正面最前排。不，我不想谈。"
你们围坐在篝火旁，天南海北地闲聊。旅人说的几句话，却在他离去许久之后，依然萦绕在你的脑海中。
"众名之战？谁没打过？我敢说，那时候半个世界都在行军。我在步兵里，确切地说，是跟着一位领主步行作战的侍卫。一直护得挺好，直到兽人放出狂战士。那之后，人人都只能顾着自保，而这活儿也着实不好干。以前我总编瞎话，说自己如何逃出生天，如今不编了。实情是，我家领主被铁链砸烂了脸，他那匹可怜的马活活吓得心脏停跳，翻倒下来，正压在我身上。"
旅人停了下来，望着篝火，用木棍拨了拨火堆边缘。
"那场仗，我能记起的就到这里。后来醒过来，雨水已经漫到鼻子，差点让我在昏睡中淹死。我从马尸底下挣出来，往前爬，天知道爬向哪里。到处躺着兽人和人，有的死了，有的快死了，有的正被水淹死。惨叫声不断，分不清是人还是别的什么。我记得那泥，记得它死死拖着我。后来，一个力气大得像牛的姑娘把我救了出来，扔上一辆小货车。我最后看见的还是战场，还有……抱歉，我说不下去了。谢谢你们今晚收留我。"
你们围坐在篝火旁，天南海北地闲聊。旅人说的几句话，却在他离去许久之后，依然萦绕在你的脑海中。
"众名之战时，我带着一支队伍。那是场正义之战，人类对抗兽人！啊，何等景象。我手下一半人死在那片战场，可他们的牺牲救了整片大地！想起那些日子，我心里就暖和。哪个男人不是如此？"
你们围坐在篝火旁，天南海北地闲聊。旅人说的几句话，却在他离去许久之后，依然萦绕在你的脑海中。
"〈城镇名〉那边，曾经审过一个当爹的。他杀了一对兄弟，就因为人家碰翻了他的货车。后来大概是杀出了滋味，又接着杀人。算下来，至少有七条人命。那当然得把他吊死。可前几天，我碰见了他的儿子，那小子竟说，他爹被绞死，只是文书上弄错了。他爹为人正直，半点私心也没有，那些被杀的人全是活该。更怪的是，这年轻人如今竟当上了镇长！我记得清清楚楚，那人就是把七个人杀了，说杀就杀！可上次进城，我发现他们把那具脖子吊长了的尸骨迁进了正经墓地，墓碑上甚至还摆着鲜花，骗你我是狗。这些事，我真不知道该怎么想。"
你们围坐在篝火旁，天南海北地闲聊。旅人说的几句话，却在他离去许久之后，依然萦绕在你的脑海中。
"世上可不止你们这一支佣兵团。我相信你知道，也不是想吓唬你，只是有件事想说说。
几周前，有两三支和你们一样的队伍在十字路口碰上了。那条路大概是容不下所有人吧，他们便打了起来。即使有人活下来，也不够把死者全都抬走。我喜欢你这些弟兄，都是好人。不过在外头千万小心。你们要杀的，可不光是劫掠者、强盗，还有诸神才知道的那些东西。佣兵，你做的是杀人的买卖，可这行里也有同行抢生意。
"
你们围坐在篝火旁，天南海北地闲聊。旅人说的几句话，却在他离去许久之后，依然萦绕在你的脑海中。
"前些天，有个男孩偷了我的午饭，可他偷完哪儿也不去，就站在我面前吃。我说：“小兔崽子，把午饭还我。”他说不。我伸手去抢，才知道那两条细腿不像鸡腿，倒像猫腿，灵活得很。我说——不，我是问他，为什么非要当着我的面吃？你明白，这就是折磨人。他说：“因为我饿。”我告诉他：“我也饿，还给我。”他当然又说不。所以他一转身，我也就顺手拿石头砸了他一下。这下他跑不快了，我把午饭拿了回来。
可这时候，镇长的一名随从过来说，不许那样做。我问为啥，他说‘因为那是镇长的儿子’。我倒没受罚，只是被警告不许再犯。我就说了，‘那你们倒是叫那小子别再偷东西啊！’他们说已经讲过了，只不过比起那小子，我更可能乖乖听话，所以就这么办。去他娘的小镇，我拿自己的卵蛋发誓，那些地方全是一窝不讲理的乡巴佬。
"
你们围坐在篝火旁，天南海北地闲聊。旅人说的几句话，却在他离去许久之后，依然萦绕在你的脑海中。
"众名之战的战场上，死法很古怪。兽人杀人不像人类，它们下手快，不让你在生死之间等上多久。等一切结束，我好好见识了它们的手段。人被砍得七零八落，整条腿，整条胳膊，身体从根本不该裂开的地方分成几截。当场毙命。一下，脑袋就没了！身子倒下，僵在那里。大多数死人都是那副样子，像刚被吓了一跳，还没缓过那股窘迫就定住了。大多数甚至都不成人形。你知道吗，人死了，就该像睡着一样。"
他接着说道。
"有些人倒受了慢慢死去的优待，能有片刻准备，让自己舒服些，寻得平静，蜷成一团，以近似来到世上时的姿态离开。可有一个人，齐腰断成两截，居然还撑着。是我亲自找到他的。我叫他闭上眼，想着他若睡去，死神也许就会醒来。可他不睡，只是不停呼吸，不停说话。说起小时候养的鸡，父亲宰了它，自己有多难过。说起一个姑娘，然后是妻子，还有母亲。其实，他说到了两个母亲。"
那人停下来，望着篝火，随后抬眼看你。
"我从不知道，半个人也能活那么久。"
你们围坐在篝火旁，天南海北地闲聊。旅人说的几句话，却在他离去许久之后，依然萦绕在你的脑海中。
"几个月前，我见过一个人被雷劈倒。他叫〈人名〉。他那张嘴简直是个锯木厂，满口上下都是木头假牙，咱们总说，他长的是一嘴白蚁！总之，我发现他时，他脑袋上正烧着火，冲我咧嘴一笑，嘴里也是热焰。皮肉焦黑发紫，成条地卷了下来。周围地面烧焦了，烟气飘着，几簇小火噼啪作响。可他还活着。我便跑去找人帮忙，谁知身后又传来一声巨响。该死的雷居然又劈中了他！诸神这是非要把他劈个透啊。"
你们围火而坐，旅人说起一桩闲闻。
"他们在〈城镇名〉绞死了个女人。我没看见她落下去，倒看见她挂着晃荡。听说她趁一个男人睡觉，把他的脑袋砸烂了。好个狠娘们。"
你们围坐火边，旅人讲起一桩罪案及其刑罚。
"〈城镇名〉那边绞死了个男孩，说他杀了个商人。他拿石头把商人从货车上砸下来，跑去抢东西，可那人没昏，拔出了匕首，男孩也拔刀。等打完，站着的只剩男孩。当然，如今就剩吊着晃了。听看行刑的人说，他蹬了好久的腿，死了还在蹬。也许是脚冷，想找点暖和吧。"
你们围火而坐，聊着杂事。旅人渐渐有些不安，你问他在想什么。
"听说有些坟墓挖开后，里面空了。〈城镇名〉还为盗墓绞死过一个人，可空坟照样不断出现。我不是迷信的人，不过听那意思，是死人自己从地里爬出来了。"
"呼，你说得也是。死人还会爬起来走路？哈！这种故事，留给小孩信吧。"
"愿旧神发发慈悲。要是我那该死的丈母娘又爬出来走动，她肯定不会对我慈悲。"
你们围火而坐。那男人长相颇为不幸，盯着火说道：
"听说富人有种东西，能照出自己长什么样。镜子！对，就叫这个。我也想有一面。我的脸自己已经……唔，其实从来没看清过。也许盯着池塘时，算是瞧见过一点吧。"
男人皱起眉头。
“哦，是啊，谢谢你，佣兵，我心里可真是好受多了。操你娘的。”
那人盯着镜子，仿佛看见自己的死相。他摸摸下巴，转动脑袋，拼命想找个不那么令人失望的角度。
"我娘准是天底下最大的骗子。瞧这张丑脸！"
他把镜子还来，忍不住为自己这副不幸的尊容笑出声。
"好吧，往后也不用再纳闷女人为什么都躲着我了。"
截图
英文原文
| Traveler | 14
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| A traveler visits you at the camp fire. You can choose: | ||
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Interactive window
You eye a traveler in the distance bobbing forth, slouched and crooning like a wingless gargoyle. His walking stick bobs and prods in front of him and even far away you hear the snicker and snacker of stones being tapped. You give an order for your men to hold and wait, letting the stranger come to you.When he finally nears, he looks up. At first, his nose is all that you see, the rest of him hidden in a cloak. He sniffs gingerly like a blind mole come across a bizarre impasse. Just as you begin to ask if the man is alright, he throws the cloak back, revealing himself. That which faces you is a tired figure. Hobbled. Sleepless days pinch creases about his eyes. Reddened cheeks spread as he smiles. He asks if he might stay with your party for a time.
A traveler hails your party from the roadside. He says he's on his way to Randomtown but that he wouldn't mind a rest. The next question he has is an obvious one: he wonders if it'd be alright to stay with your party for the night.A traveler carrying a cart of personal goods heads your way. You let him approach, holding your hand up to warn him to go no further. He states that he is a simple wanderer and that he's only looking to get to Randomtown. First showing that he is completely unarmed, he asks if maybe he can stay the night with your company.A whistling man ambles down the road, a cheery dog huffing at his side with its tongue aloll. Seeing your troop, he stabs his walking stick into the dirt and tents his hands atop it. Some small talk is made of the weather, notably that rain is in the belly of some oncoming clouds. He asks if mayhaps he could dodge the rain in the company of sellswords. A strange request, not one usually made to men who earn blood money.A man walks the road with a shovel bobbing over one shoulder and a sack of dirt swinging in the other hand. When you inquire as to what he is doing, he says he's just buried his brother and he's on his way back to Randomtown. The sack holds some of the dirt where his kin was laid to rest. Respectable. The man looks weary, as weary as a man who has buried his sibling would understandably be. Perhaps sensing your pitying gaze, he asks if maybe he can stay with your company for a time.You spot a strange man hobbling along the road. He's dressed in a long cloak and he's got a knapsack yoked over one of his shoulders. His eyes stare at the ground until they come to your feet at which point he finally looks up. Seeing your company, the man is surprisingly unalarmed. In fact, he's quite receptive of your presence and asks if maybe he could spend the night with sellswords before continuing his journey to Randomtown.A man with a pitchfork is crossing a field where the crops have failed. His feet scuff up the deadened ground and you see tufts of ash being pitched wind-wise. When he gets to the road, you hail him down and ask where he's coming from. The man is a daytaler only trying to get back home. All the work around here is dried up, literally. Licking his cracked lips, the man wonders if maybe he could stay the night with your company. He certainly looks like he could use some rest, anyway.A man carrying a bucket of tools crosses paths with your company. The roads seem ill-fit to place one man against a company of sellswords, and this stranger appraises the situation correctly by placing his wares down and putting his hands up.You tell him to calm and ask where he is going. He explains that he is a mason from Randomtown, but that his work there is done. He's only on his way back to his family located on a homestead a good day's walk from where you stand. Looking rather thirsty and tired, the man asks if maybe he could spend the night with your company to help him rest for the coming walk.
A figure appears on the horizon, blurred and shimmering in a heat haze. It appears to have paused, no doubt having seen you, too. With little fear, you press the men onward and soon come across a man toting a few bags of this or that. He's sitting down on the ground and doesn't bother getting up when you near. He explains he's been on the road for days and could use a good night's rest. Naturally, he asks if he can spend that rest in the company of your men.You come across a man who is weak and weary. He explains that he has been searching for his lost dog, but that he's just about given up. Before he heads home, he wonders quite loudly if maybe a night's rest in your company could help him find the energy to seek out his mutt for one more day.A man tracked by buzzards is found on the side of the road. He's not hurt or wounded, just exhausted. He asks with a cracking voice if maybe he could spend the night in the company of your men.
You sit about a fire. Much talk is made about this or that, but the traveler does speak some words which reside within your mind long after he's gone.
"Man is treated to war the day he is born. It is his mother who is with him for that first battle, and to his mother whom he calls in his last. If only the evil we see in others could be seen in ourselves, then the call to swords might fall on deaf ears. How sad that men are so uncomfortable looking inward, and how sad that when the call for swords is made our ears hear better than ever."
You sit about a fire. Much talk is made about this or that, but the traveler does speak some words which reside within your mind long after he's gone.
"I'd found myself nearing the top of a mountain a few months ago. Highest I've ever been! Traveled there in the company of an expedition. Some man smarter than I reckoned it might be worthwhile so he could point his big glasses to the skies. Anyway, I looked down at the land and could see what had been done to it. Cities and towns and roads, little moles of gritty patchwork. Wagons scuttling like ants, selling what could be pilferaged from this man or this animal or this land. Holes in the forests where trees used to be."
You sit about a fire. Much talk is made about this or that, but the traveler does speak some words which reside within your mind long after he's gone.
"Thank you for offering the fish, sirs, but I will have to turn it down. Let me explain. Just the other day I tried diggin' a hole for m'kin as he'd passed away as folks requiring holes in the earth tend to do. T'was a distant cousin that stood close. Lived next door, actually. Feller died of illness, something we don't know of, but none but he got so I guess we is alright. He was all green when he passed. Y'all know what that might have been?"
"No? Damn. Well anyway, I dug his grave for him, as he surely wasn't going to do it himself. I got far into the ground when I come across a big ol' stone. Pick hit it hard, broke the shaft in two and made chalk of my pickaxe. I said horseshit, I've gone too far to stop here so get out of the way, stone! But that rock had bones in it. Not on it, in it. Strange looking ones, but bones nonetheless. Death is remarkably familiar from an outsider's perspective.
Anyway, the skull seemed to be looking at me, judging me, saying 'what is it you think yer doing here?' So I got up out of that hole and ran to m'home, my cousin's remains yoked over my shoulders like I'd stolen them. I was bothered. Couldn't sleep. Felt like I was laying over what must've been hundreds of fellers right then, some so old they'd taken shape with rocks of all things. Dead fellers. All the way down. Nothing but dead, all the way down I say! And I didn't know what to do and I suppose it still bothers me now if it ain't obvious.
"
"Later on I decided I wouldn't bury m'cousin. Instead, I burned his remains and threw the heap of what was left stewing and smoking into'a'pond. Said to m'self, 'cousin, you ain't gonna be no rock'.
But the other day I found them bones washed ashore, and there was a fat bellied fish caught in the ribs. Caged himself there on account of good eats, I guess. I picked that fish up and held it, and my cousin I s'pose, in my hand. T'was limp. Bugeyed as fish are without their watery lids. But then a dog ran by and took it from me. Gobbled it right quick for it knew the nature of its crime, I think. That's where a piece of my cousin ran off to. Dodged the earth on account of the hungry rocks only to be eaten by a squire of a fish that served itself to a righteous dog of all things. So now you know why I don't eat fish no more.
"
You sit about a fire. Much talk is made about this or that, but the traveler does speak some words which reside within your mind long after he's gone.
"I took part in the eastern campaigns. Drove the supply wagons, carrying untold numbers of armor, weapons, horses, foods, you name it. Hell, that's an age ten years past now, I believe. T'was the last time men truly stood together, and I suppose the last time the greenskins did the same. No mystery that when the two forces met they shattered against one another. Now we dwell in a time of chaos and rumor and superstition and idle talk amongst strangers."
You sit about a fire. Much talk is made about this or that, but the traveler does speak some words which reside within your mind long after he's gone.
"Ten years ago I fought in the Battle of Many Names. Orc against man. The end of a war that struck its name across an entire age. I rode with the cavalry, if you want to know. Southern flank in the mud and swamp and aye, neither are well fit for horseriding but our commander was having none of that. An orc drove a polearm through that commander's horse, and on through the commander himself. Taking horses into that muck.. a terrible idea. I heard the northern flank fared better, but it's no matter. Neither side won that damned fight."
You sit about a fire. Much talk is made about this or that, but the traveler does speak some words which reside within your mind long after he's gone.
"Ever seen a greenskin cleave a horse's head off? Quite the sight. But I've also seen a horse kick an orc's teeth out and bury him in mud with stomping madness. We forget, I think, that the horse is more akin to fancy a war than we are. Frightful, curious animals, sure, but violent. They say, left to themselves they oft kill one another, kill each other's children and their children's children. It's a damned thing that women love us both."
You sit about a fire. Much talk is made about this or that, but the traveler does speak some words which reside within your mind long after he's gone.
"Ah, the Battle of Many Names. Aye, I took part. Vanguard. Front and center. No, I do not wish to talk about it."
You sit about a fire. Much talk is made about this or that, but the traveler does speak some words which reside within your mind long after he's gone.
"The Battle of Many Names? Who did not take part in that? Half the world was on the march then, I swear it. I stood with the infantry. Footman to a lord, to be precise. Protected him well until the orcs released their berserkers. After that, everybody sought to protect themselves, a job which proved quite difficult. I used to lie about how I made it out. Now I don't. The truth is my lord had his face crushed by a chain and his mount flipped and fell atop me, its poor heart struck dead in fright."
The traveler pauses, staring into the campfire. He prods the edge of it with a stick.
"That's the last thing I remembered as far the fightin' was concerned. I eventually woke to the rains coming up to my nose. Nearly drowned me in my dozing. I wiggled my way out from under the horse and crawled to god knows where. Orcs and men lay everywhere, dead, dying, drowning. Lots of screaming. Couldn't tell who or what it was coming from. I remember the mud. I remember it clutching at me. A maiden, strong-armed like an ox, saved me from it. She threw me on a cart and the last thing I saw was the battlefield and, I'm sorry. I must stop. Thank you for having me for the night."
You sit about a fire. Much talk is made about this or that, but the traveler does speak some words which reside within your mind long after he's gone.
"I led a company in the Battle of Many Names. It was a righteous affair. Man against orc! Oh, what a sight. Half of my men died on those fields, but their sacrifice saved the whole land! I look fondly on those times. What man doesn't?"
You sit about a fire. Much talk is made about this or that, but the traveler does speak some words which reside within your mind long after he's gone.
"Out in Randomtown they had a father up for trial. He'd murdered two brothers on account of knocking his cart over. And then apparently the taste of it had him murdering some more. All told, he took the lives of at least seven people. Naturally, they hanged the man. But I ran into his son the other day and he told me the hanging was merely some clerical mistake. His father was an upstanding man, not the least bit self-serving and the people he killed had it coming. What's more curious, this youngin' is now mayor! Now, the way I remember it the man slaughtered seven folks outright. Just like that! But last time I was in town they'd moved his long-necked bones to a proper cemetery and I'll be damned if I didn't see some flowers on the tombstone. Not sure what to make of these things."
You sit about a fire. Much talk is made about this or that, but the traveler does speak some words which reside within your mind long after he's gone.
"You ain't the only mercenary company out here. I'm sure you know that, and I don't mean to sound threatening, but I only wish to tell ya something.
A couple weeks past some two or three companies of men, standing like your own, met at a crossroads and apparently the path wasn't big enough for all of 'em, so they fought. If any survived, it wasn't enough to carry off those who didn't. I like your men. They is good people. But please do be careful out there. Killing raiders and brigands and the gods know what else isn't the only thing you'll be doing. You kill in a market of competitors, sellsword.
"
You sit about a fire. Much talk is made about this or that, but the traveler does speak some words which reside within your mind long after he's gone.
"A boy stole my lunch the other day, but he'd done not do anything but stand there and eat it in front of me. I said, 'give me back my lunch ya scamp', but he said no. I reached for it but his scrawny legs proved to be more cat than chicken. I said, no, I asked why he'd done have to eat it in front of me. This was torture, you see. He said 'because I'm hungry'. I told 'im, 'I'm hungry too, now give it back'. Naturally, he done said no. And so naturally when he'd done turned around I cracked him with a stone and that slackened his speed a bit and I got m'lunch back.
But then yonder comes a footman of the mayor who says don't do that. I asked 'im why not, he said 'because that's the mayor's boy'. My punishment was nothing, but I was warned t'not do it again. I told 'im, I said, 'tell the boy to not steal again!'. And they said they had, and that I was more likely to yield to a command than he and that's t'way it t'was. Farkin' small towns, I swear on m'sack those places are more billy than hill.
"
You sit about a fire. Much talk is made about this or that, but the traveler does speak some words which reside within your mind long after he's gone.
"Death was strange on the battlefield of Many Names. Orcs don't kill like men do, they make it fast. They leave you little wait between the now and the then. I got a good look at their handiwork after it was all said and done. Men strewn in pieces. Whole parts, legs, arms, bodies split in seams most unnatural. Instant death. Swing, head gone! And the body crumples and stiffens. Most of the dead looked like that, like they'd just been scared and sat frozen in their embarrassment. Most looked nothing like men at all. A man should look asleep when he's dead, you know?"
He continues.
"A few received the courtesy of a slow death, of a pause to get ready and make themselves comfortable and find peace, to curl up into a ball and depart this place in a similar shape to how they'd come in. But I will say one man, taken apart at the beltline, managed to hang on. I found him myself. I told him to close his eyes because I thought if he went to sleep maybe death'd wake up. But he didn't go to sleep. He just kept breathing, and talking. Talking about this chicken he had as a boy, and how he got upset when his father slaughtered it. Talked about a girl, and then a wife and a mother. Talked about two mothers, actually."
The man pauses, staring into the campfire. He looks up at you.
"I did not know half a man could live for so long."
You sit about a fire. Much talk is made about this or that, but the traveler does speak some words which reside within your mind long after he's gone.
"I saw'r man cut down by lightning a few months ago. Randomname was his name. He had a lumber mill for a mouth, a wooden bite from side-to-side. Termites for teeth we used to say! Anyway, I'd found his head aflame, grinning hot fire back at me, his flesh curled down in strips of black and purple. The ground around him was scorched, smoke drifting around and little fires crackling. But he was still alive. So I ran off to get some help when I heard a horrid noise behind me. Damned lightning struck him again! Smote by the gods through and through."
You sit about a fire. The traveler speaks of some idle news.
"They hanged some lady in Randomtown. Didn't see her drop, but I did see her swing. They said she stove a man's head in while he slept. What a wench."
You sit about a fire. The traveler speaks of a crime and its punishment.
"Out in Randomtown they hanged a boy for killin' a merchant. Said he threw a stone at the trader to knock him off his cart. He then ran over to steal his things, but the stoned man wasn't knocked out, so he drew his dagger and the boy drew his and I guess the boy was the one left standing when it was all said and done, o'course, he now just be left swinging. Talk of the execution say he kicked good and long, wouldn't stop kicking even after he was dead. Maybe his cold feet were lookin' for warmth."
You sit about a fire. Much talk is made about this or that, but the traveler gets a little skittish and you ask what is on his mind.
"I've heard rumors of graveyards turning up earth-empty. They hanged a man out in Randomtown for gravedigging, unfortunately they kept finding deadless graves anyway. Now, I'm no superstitious man, but the way I hear it the dead're stepping out of the ground."
"Whew. Yeah I suppose you is right. Dead walking the earth? Ha! I'll leave such ideas to the children."
"May the old gods have mercy for if my damned mother-in-law walks the earth she'll certainly have none for me."
You sit about a fire. The rather unfortunate looking man stares into the fire as he talks.
"I hear the rich folk have got these things that let them see what they look like. Mirrors! Aye, that's the name. Wish I had one. I hadn't seen my own face in.. well, ever. Maybe a bit of a look when staring into a pond, I guess."
The man's brow furrows.
"Oh yeah thanks, sellsword, that makes me feel so much better. Farkin' c**t."
The man stares into the mirror like he was watching his own death. He rubs his chin and turns his head, desperately looking for some angle that won't disappoint.
"I'll be damned if my mother ain't the biggest liar that ever walked the earth. Look at that ugly mug!"
He hands the mirror back and can't help but laugh at his unfortunate visage.
"Well, I suppose I no longer have to wonder why the womenfolk run from me."