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The Adventures of Larson and Garrett - Garrett's Tale By AaronDennis Characters: 5513

Updated: 2017-12-29 12:03


"And yet you came here, frightened, seeking information…I believe the only answer you require to ease your troubles is the answer provided by worship…as an old priest, it is my duty to insist, but…that is where my duty ends, " Willem explained. "You may search these tomes to your heart's content. Perhaps, the information you find will help to sway your opinion."

"Thank you, Willem, " Garrett said with a nod.

He then grabbed a candle and started perusing the immense shelves of aging, leather bound books. Resolved to uncover something useful, the young warrior spent hours searching for a sign of a sign of Lagos. The name was never mentioned in any tome regarding Akalabash's struggles against the forces of destruction.

Garrett did find tales regarding the first modern cult to openly worship Akalabash. He learned of paladins, or holy crusaders, who waged wars, and assisted those waging wars. They were mostly humans, and the occasional dwarf or half-orc, but there was actually little mention of struggles against Golguhaar specifically. The only excerpts involved the tribulations of The First Age, and a scant few descriptions of the battles during The Second Age. Apart from those pieces of information, Garrett found tidbits regarding the White Wraith cult and their appearance during The Third Age, but in regards from where they came, and to where they went, there was nothing.

"At least Aluham knows something on that matter, " Garrett mumbled.

The old elf knew they were vanquished in Atjibur, but there wasn't any mention of Atjibur in the tomes. Maybe I should head back to the elven community and see if they know anyth

t ya', " someone else added.

"Bah, " Garrett spat. He ran past the seamstress's shop and made it to the town square. There, he saw four men on horses, and five more fanned out. The apparent mercenaries, as denoted by their fancy chain mail and various weapons, were demanding the crowd of citizens reveal where Larson and Garrett were. "I'm here, what do you want?"

Everyone turned to face the oncomer. The citizens started to separate into two, smaller groups alongside the street while the leader of the mercenaries, a big, swarthy man with a thick beard, rode his horse towards the fencer.

"I'm Cormick, " the man on the horse said. "I need that trinket you stole from us. Hand it over, and there ain't be no trouble, hear?"

Garrett eyed the group of ne'er-do-wells. Mercenaries were either one of two kinds; the kind that spoke to people and acquired information through flattery, and the kind that threw people to the ground and persuaded with violence. The way the greasy band of men and women before him grunted, grinned, and cracked their knuckles indicated they were the latter.

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