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Laciano's Travels: Part 1 - Spiders, Armor Wearers, and Shanty Little Rooms

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He was lost. The half fleshed being shoveled on, despite having no idea where it was going. ‘One foot in front of the other,’ he thought to himself. He lifted his head from his seemingly difficult task of walking and realized he was no longer in the bright, sunny farmlands full of bandana-wearing humans, ear shattering murlocs, and gangs of snarling gnolls. He was now in a forest where sunlight was as rare as mithril. The air heavy with a sense of dread and musk, both overwhelming for the scrawny frame of the forsaken. He looked back the way he had come, a bridge sat a few meters away. Behind the bridge he could see the bright sunny farmlands, turning to his front he could see the encroaching darkness.

He sighed, “No Laciano, we don’t need a map, we are adventurers. Provisions? What are those? We are adventurers! Who needs rest, we are ADVENTURERS!”

Done scolding himself, the forsaken realized he was being watched. He stopped midstride in the middle of the path. He looked around at the thick forest about him, yellow globes everywhere penetrating the darkness. A hissing sound was distinguishable over the deafening silence. Laciano had been too focused on the yellow specks of light to realize the forest he was in was sown together with a thick web-like substance. Its drooping abundance seemed to hold up the yellow globes. He gulped.

He took off down the road at a full sprint, chain mail and armor clanking. The yellow specks followed. Laciano did not need another second to realize they were eyes, and to what they belonged to – Pygmy Venom Web Spiders. They skittered out of the darkness and pursued the forsaken, hissing as they went. To another traveler this may have looked comical, but to the forsaken he knew it would be certain death to attempt to ward off a score of spiders alone. Never to of been one for cardio in life or undeath, Laciano was quickly growing tired, his armor and short sword not lifting the burden a bit. Just when he was about to face his inevitable demise, he saw an approaching light bearing down at full speed towards him.

The forsaken unsheathed his blade and decided he would go out in a blaze of glory, continuing his run-turned-charge he headed for the approaching light. It grew bigger and closer. He thought to himself, ‘this is it old pal, it has been good bickering with you’. Ever closer it came, the sound of hoof beats apparent. Then it happened, the point of impact – or so Laciano thought. The mounted light mass rushed right past him. The adventurer slowed down gradually, coming to a stop panting and gasping. He turned around in time to see the mounted figure jump off its mount into the midst of the spiders. “Damn fool is crazy,” he said to himself. The spiders seemed to overwhelm the figure. Just then the ground about it glowed a bright yellow. Instantaneously the spiders around it seemed to either combust or begin to melt slowly, neither seemed pleasant, even for a spider. Laciano winced as the hissing turned to shrieking. And then they were gone, a score of spiders turned to ash in an instant.

Having regained his breath, Laciano began to nonchalantly approach the figure, wanting to give his thanks. The figure turned its attention to him. It had a slender frame, wide set hips, and was donned from head to toe in orange, yellow, and black armor covered in symbols that were foreign to the forsaken. Its helmet consisted of a black hood with a black faceplate that masked all features except its brightly illuminated eyes that seemed to glare at the half-fleshed being. Laciano froze in terror. The armored figure remounted its horse: A warhorse clad in golden armor, golden plated horns lined up its neck and stopped with a large horn on its forehead. Blue banners dressed the sides of the powerful horse.

He had two options: Charge the figure and hope he combusts quickly as opposed to melting in an agonizing manner, or, impractical due to his lack of cardio, run. He chose neither and stood there, waiting for his fate. The armored figure strode to only a few paces away from the stunned forsaken. It reached behind it and produced a large axe; Covered again in more symbols foreign and enormous in size, all of which had no meaning to Laciano except for one fact: He was going to die. The armored figure rose the axe above its head, preparing to bring it down over the forsaken….

THUNK! CLING! “Ooomf.”

The “executioner” seemed to go out cold, dropping its large axe and collapsing to the ground off the horse. The armored warhorse took off at a charge down the road to the east. Laciano sat there stunned, staring at the heap of armor in front of him knocked out.

“Get out of here, moron. Now is your chance to escape!” a voice said out of the darkness. Laciano couldn’t tell where the voice came from. He sat there still wondering what to do.

“Move your ass or stay until she wakes up and you die. The choice is your’s.” the voice had a thick malice to it. Laciano looked down at the figure, he looked up to the forest and jumped. Not three feet away was another forsaken in nothing but black leather. He wore a mask covering his face and was seemingly featureless except for two daggers at his hip. He pointed to his victim, “she is stirring.” Laciano looked down, then looked back to the rogue, but he was gone.

“Ovah here, kid!” another voice cried out. It was a goblin poking its face out from behind a door to a building up on a hill just off the road to the north. “Ovah here, it’s safe! Quick!”

Laciano was in no mood to be burnt to a crisp today, so he looked down at his near-executioner only moments ago and gave her a swift kick to the head. Not thinking it through, actually broke off his small toe bone on the plate helmet of the rider. He gave a quick yelp. The figure began to stir; he gave another yelp, this one out of fear as opposed to pain and ran for the goblin.

Once inside, the forsaken followed the goblin upstairs and to a backroom where a few mats were laid out near a low lit fire in the fireplace. A small cot with a few crates of supplies sat in the far corner, Laciano presumed this was the goblin’s living quarters. The adventurer sat down by the fire on an old mat and stared, trying to piece together exactly what just happened.

“The name is Bliztik the Vendor, atcher service, kid.” The goblin said extending his hand. Laciano took the hand and replied, “What is this place?”

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“This is Duskwood, particularly Raven Hill. You, my friend, almost got your clocks cleaned by that paladin. She patrols these here parts looking for little runts like you who don’t belong. Close call. Lucky you had Wormbane watching your back.”

“Who?” the forsaken was puzzled; he thought to himself, ‘Duskwood? Raven Hill? Wormbane? What the hell is going on?’

“Wormbane, the rogue fella that saved your hide. Not much to say about him, just be thankful he was there. The last one wasn’t so lucky to have him at his side.” Said Bliztik as he nodded over to his cot, there atop, nailed to the wall by a piece of leather was a large horn. “Yeah, poor shaman was way out of his element in these here parts. Get it? Element? Shaman? Hahahaha!” cackled Bliztik. Laciano blinked.

The goblin mumbled to himself, “Lifeless idiot, that was gold.” He turned his attention back to the forsaken. “What brings you here to these parts? The closest friendlies are down in Grom’Gol, miles away!”

Laciano replied, “Well I don’t know, I just sort’ve started walking through these strange farmlands and ended up in this hellhole: Then came the spiders ,then the armor wearer, and now I am in a shanty little room.”

What the goblin, nor Laciano knew was he was on a ship from Grom’Gol heading to the Deadmines of Westfall where his assistance was requested. His ship was attacked by murlocs and slammed against the shore. When he awoke he was alone and just began to walk.

Bliztik rubbed his chin, “Interesting. Well anywho, you can stay here as long as you like. I do advise you be careful at night though.”

The forsaken looked out a worn out window that seemed to possess a permanent fog. It was dark. “When exactly is it day and night?” asked the adventurer, confused as usual.

"It’s always night here. So always be careful.” Replied the Vendor.

A loud scream split the silent night.

Laciano jumped from his mat where he was resting in fear and reached for his short sword. Bliztik was already looking out the window; he sat back down into his cot and shook his head. “He got another one.”

“Who got another what?” Asked the forsaken, still petrified at the sound and nightmarish thoughts he conjured as to its source and reason.

“Mor’Ladim got another victim. That is three this week. He is on a streak, interfering with business, that bastard!” replied the goblin.

“Mor’Ladim?” asked the forsaken.

“You ask a lot of questions…” sighed the Vendor. “Mor’Ladim is a skeletal warrior who wanders that there cemetery. He preys on adventurers, merchants, travelers, common folk, mighty heroes, everyone who wanders about his domain. Fools.”

Until now Laciano had not even noticed the large cemetery behind the crop of buildings in which he and Bliztik remained nested. He looked through the fogged window and saw hundreds upon hundreds of gravestones. A bright yellow light shone through the mist, it seemed to be moving up and down at a slow, methodical rate, like it was hacking away at something. “Ahhh Archeus, beautiful and deadly.” Said the goblin. Laciano looked up but remained silent. Bliztik answered the unspoken question anyways. “It’s his blade, it has a perpetual yellow glow. Some say it is his hate of the living that makes it glows, others say a sorcerer enchanted it, I don’t care – I just want it.” The goblin said as he rubbed his hands together greedily.

All of a sudden it seemed lightning had struck the goblin vendor as he turned around to Laciano with sly grin: “Say kid, do I have a deal for you…..”

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