Origins 1 - The Ranger's Story

Please note:
This was originally written as the story for PoE graphic novel, that Chris gave Nobdi/Fannek and I permission for, with the caveat that it wasn't to be sold, and we were to make clear to readers that the story wasn't lore. Although this graphic novel project was well underway by Fall of 2013, it never reached the final stages. What I am posting here is the final story, and a few preliminary images that Nobdi/Fannek decided were finished enough for release.

This is the first part of the story (since the overall story exceeds the forum's character limits) You can find the second part in the follow up post

Unfortunately, formatting doesn't translate well from Word, but I will try to clean up the spacing and what not as best I can through edits.

I hope you enjoy it.



I want to make clear that this story is not lore. It is just our vision of a possible origin for the ranger.



Thanks to Grinding Gear Games for making such an amazing and challenging game, to Fannek for his inspiring artwork, and to the mysterious benefactor who gave me a PoE beta key because he liked my Diablo 2 fanfics.

The cover






Sketches of some of the characters (left to right: Panella, Roan, Piety and Hyapatia)




And the original image Fannek posted that inspired me to begin the story and explain why the ranger no longer has a pony tail:







Path of Exile Origins - Episode 1
(The Ranger's story)


South East coast of Oriath:


“TZZZzzzt TZZzzt” came the sound from the Weta.

“Ssshh little Hakuturi,” Panella whispered to the insect crawling on her shoulder.

“What is she saying?” Hyapatia asked.

“It’s a he, the females aren’t so noisy,” Panella responded. This was the third spring since she was old enough to hunt without a matron, and only the first time her beloved Hyapatia had accompanied her.

“Tsit Tsit! Tsit Tsit!” the little bug changed its scraping sound.

Panella hissed back, “I’m hungry too, now hush up!”

The little bug was silent.

“Do you think he understands you?” Hyapatia asked.

“Sometimes, I do, sometimes I don’t know”

“Why don’t we just go back to the forest to hunt? You know that territory much better,” Hyapatia said.

“What I do know is that hundreds of the Ebon Legion are still camped in the forest, and I doubt if there is any wild game they haven’t already killed and eaten. Besides, I know the Rahnoo Marsh, its where my mother trained me in the Sacred Hunt.”

“Your mother died out here,” Hyapatia covered her mouth as soon as the words escaped, wishing she hadn’t spoken.

“Thanks for reminding me,” Panella said. “We don’t know if she died here, just that she vanished four springs ago. ”
Panella pointed to a an area of the marsh that seemed to glisten like ocean waves in bright sunshine. “That’s a patch of twinkleberries, ” she said and began moving towards it.

“Who would want to eat those?,” Hyapatia asked. “I like they way they sparkle, but I put them in my hair once, and my head felt like it was on fire!.”

“Rhoas love them, they like the fiery taste I guess,” Panella said, still inching forward/

Hyapatia swung her long raven hair around so that it fell against her shoulders. “You’re the huntress.”

"Thank you Great Spirit!," Panella whispered almost silently.

Hyapatia started to speak but Panella gently put a finger across her lips and looked her in the eyes.

Panella pointed to a movement in the green rushes, which were unusually thick this spring. When the albino beast appeared, Panella whispered, That is a Gingerfoot Rhoa. Unlike most belligerent and heavily armored Rhoas on the islands, this type is soft and fleshy,”

“Do they taste funny? Hyapatia whispered back. “I’m not eating anything weird.”

“During spring, the Gingerfoot eats only flowers and berries which make it very tasty, ” Panella quietly unslung her bow, rested it in the pocket by thumb and slipped her fingers into the sling.

“Are they dangerous?” Hyapatia asked in a whisper.

“Only to a farmer’s crops. Roasted and cured, this one could feed the whole Free Love Clan for a month,” Panella drew a blue fletched arrow from the quiver and nocked it.

“Why are you using a blue one today?” Hyapatia asked.

Panella looked at Hyapatia as if she had gone mad. “Really? You are worse than little Hakuturi!,” she hissed. “I’ll explain, and then you need to be quiet and stay back aways so that you don’t frighten off our dinner.”

Hyapatia nodded meekly.

Panella explained, “The blue feathers are leftover from making the poison arrows. You know how a moonsnipe is poisonous, yes?”

Hyapatia nodded, “A slight touch of the feathers make you immobile, like a statue, or stop breathing and die.”

“Well, I take the moonsnipe feathers and steep them in the red algae from the blood tides before drying them over a slow fire of bat guano.”

“They reek of death,” Hyapatia held her nose.

“That’s why I keep them in a quiver with oil,” Panella closed her eyes for a second and held her breath.

“Sorry, I won’t say anything else,” Hyapatia stepped back and tried to be as still as possible.

Panella began moving in a slow pattern that mimicked the swaying of the rushes in the breeze. She could see the Gingerfoot clearly now, and slowly raised her bow when a rustling sound behind her caught her attention. Panella waited a moment and then prepared to draw her bow again.

“No!,” Hyapatia cried out, putting her hand on Panella’s bow arm. The Gingerfoot startled at the noise and scampered away.
Panella turned toward Hyapatia and her eyes narrowed to bright blue slits, “There went our dinner.”

“No, no no, Baby, don’t be like that,” Hyapatia shook her head. “Look over here!” she whispered, motioning for Panella to follow her.

“This better be good,” Panella slung the bow over her shoulder and dropped the blue fletched arrow in the quiver. “You were supposed to remain back a few steps, remember?” She followed Hyapatia who was slowly tip toeing somewhere. At least the view is nice, Panella thought watching those hips slowly swing back and forth.

Hyapatia kneeled down by a patch of rushes. She looked back and beckoned Panella with her finger. Panella approached and leaned over Hyapatia’s shoulder. Hyapatia slowly parted the rushes with her hands and the Panella saw them. Three baby rhoa were on a small nest. One of them was looking straight at them with big curious eyes.

“Aren’t they adorable!,” Hyapatia giggled.

“Not much meat on them,” Panella said.

“You’re so mean!,” Hyapatia looked genuinely hurt.

“I was only kidding. They are pretty cute,” Panella leaned in closer to Hyapatia breathing in her musky scent. Panella stood up quickly and backed away.

“What’s wrong,” Hyapatia looked back to see Panella holding her hand over her heart.

“I just wish we could have our own little ones,” Panella started to sob.

“Oh,” Hyapatia ran over to her and wrapped her arms around her. “I would have your babies if I could.”

“I know,” Panella looked into Hyapatia’s eyes, “Even we have both lost our youthful bloom and are old and shriveled like dried weeds I will still cherish looking into your deep mahogany eyes.”

Hyapatia stroked Panella’s hair, “I love you not because you are crowned with sheafs of golden sunlight that cascade down your shoulders, nor because you are as lithe as the nuknuk deer, yet fierce as a mudcat.” She looked into those sea blue eyes of Panella, “I love you because like the rising sun, you are always there for me,”

Panella took a deep breath, “Silly girl, there will never be a day when I am not here for you,” She put her forehead against Hyapatia’s and they locked eyes for a moment. Then both smiled. Mischievous smiles.

Hakuturi wriggled his antennae, then crawled into the small pouch on Panella’s side that she kept him in.

“Dare I ask how you trained him to do that?,” Hyapatia arched an eyebrow.

“He’s a smart little fellow,” Panella winked at Hyapatia.

"I love the new belt you made me, it's soooo soft," Hyapatia said.

"The finest Mipae'n leather," Panella replied.

Hyapatia's eyes went wide, and then she giggled, undid the belt and let her chemise drop, "Shall we?” Before Panella could respond, she began running through the rushes toward the sea.

“Where are you going?” Panellas asked.

“Where the mermaid’s guard the pirate’s treasure, you will find me!” Hyapatia’s voice came back.

“Yeah, I’ll find your treasures,” Panella , stooped to pick up the garments and then hurried after Hyapatia.






The Great Causeway through Rahnoo Marsh:


“And just what are we looking for here, Captain Vou Bois?” the arc mage accompanying the two dozen ebon legionairres wore a sullen look on her face.

“Treasure,” Vou Bois grimaced as the sweat rolled down his face.

The arc mage swatted a barbed blood gnat that landed on her arm, “The only things we’ll find down here are these miserable bugs and this miserable heat.” She tugged at the neck of her black leather armor to try and get some relief. “There’s nothing left. The locals have scavenged every islet like maggots swarming a corpse.”

“There are a few haunted places they are afraid to go,” the captain let her get ahead of him so he could admire the view of that tight leather armor.

Just at that moment, the arc mage glanced back, “You men are all Poaka!,” She stopped and raised her wand, “If your hand strays anywhere near my ass, you’ll see just how accurate my arc lightning is.”

Vou Bois laughed, “That little wand against my big staff?”

Everyone grew silent, and the captain had to look around to see that one of the vanguards ahead had raised his hand for the group to halt .

The captain silently made his way up to the vanguard, “Heathens?, enemies?, what have we scout?”

“Mama Gingerfoot and three snack sized hatchlings,” the vanguard pointed his spear at some rustling in the bushes.

“I suppose we do need to replenish our rations,” the captain said, “Go ahead, but do it as quietly as you can,”

The vanguard drew three blue fletched arrows, nocked one and held the others by the crest in his fingertips. He nodded and slipped silently into the brush. They heard the Thwip! Thwip! Thwip! of his bow and saw the wisps of green and black smoke rise up. A few minutes later he tossed three baby rhoa at the Captain’s feet.

“That’ll do for snacks, but what about the mother beast?,” Vou Bois asked.

The vanguard hung his head, ““She ran off that way, when she heard the bow string snap.” He held out the bow with its dangling string.

“You should use a thumb ring,” The arc mage said. “I’ll take care of the beast,” she offered and then darted into the marsh before the captain could stop her.

The crackling ZzzZZAAAAAP! of the arc lightning was hardly discreet.

When the captain and the ebony guards had caught up her, the Gingerfoot was down on its side. It let out a few loud throaty warbles before its sides stopped heaving. The Gingerfoot’s guts continued to boil out of the blackened gash the arc mage had put into it with a single bolt.




Maraki-Hau Isle in Rahnoo Marsh:

“What was that?”, Panella raised her head up at the sudden sound.

“Hush, baby it’s nothing,” Hyapatia reached down and stroked the downy blonde hair at the back of Panella’s neck

“It sounded like lightning,” Panella cocked an ear and both were silent for a moment.

“On a clear day like this?” Hyapatia reached up to squeeze the muscles on Panella’s shoulders.
“Probably just an animal looking for something to eat,” Hyapatia smiled.

Panella returned the smile and leaned forward to give Hyapatia a slow passionate kiss.

“So salty!,” Hyapatia giggled when their lips met.

“It’s ok, I don’t mind,” Panella slipped her hands down Hyapatia’s side, while her mouth wandered across Hyapatia’s taut stomach.

“I’ll eat melons next time, I promise!” Hyapatia.

“You always say that,” Panella nibbled at Hyapatia’s rib cage, pausing to kiss each one of the three moles that lined up like Orion's belt.

Hyapatia squirmed, “That tickles!”

“Let me know when it stops tickling,” Panella’s mouth moved downward a little with each nibbling kiss.

“Oooooooh,” Hyapatia locked her knees against the side of Panella’s head.



Just off the Great Causeway through Rahnoo Marsh:

Captain Vou Bois shook his head at the arc mage, “You spilt the guts.”

“So?” the young arc mage watched while two black guards held the Gingerfoot’s legs and a third began removing the innards.

“Well, maybe you like eating crap, but unless we get clean and cook it now, everyone will get sick.”

“Oh,” the arc mage looked away as she tried to move upwind of the kill. All of a sudden, she stopped moving completely for a few seconds and began waving her arms quickly.

“Stop! Stop now!,” the captain hissed and everyone was still. He walked over to the arc mage and then he could hear it too.

“Maybe these isles are haunted,” The arc mage said as the moaning sounds got louder.

“I’ve heard the stories too,” Vou Bois growled, “Pirate’s treasure in the deep places around Maraki-Hau. Mermaids whose voices and perfumes will kill a man before he ever sets eyes on them. But I’ve been there plenty of times in my youth and the only thing on mermaid isle is lots of sand!”

The vanguard stepped next to him and unrolled a tube of parchment, “The templars' maps show ghost skulls here, here and here again on Maraki-Hau. They have confirmed deaths with no known cause, and the red waters are for blood tides.”

“I know about the tides,” Vou Bois said, “I am not a superstitious fool. When the red tides come, everything in this marsh dies.”

“What if the mermaids yonder summon the blood tides?” the arc mage asked with worry plain on her face.

“Sound the horn, we’re going hunting!” Vou Bois yelled out.





Maraki-Hau Isle in Rahnoo Marsh:


Both Hyapatia and Panella raised up at the sounding of the horn. “We are too old to be released,” Hyapatia was slipping on her boots.

“We can’t let the game warden catch us then, can we?” Panella replied as she struggled to get into her leathers. “For the first time in my life, I
wished I had worn a chemise as you did.”

“You wouldn’t be you if you did,” Hyapatia remarked as she fastened the boot’s buckles and started gathering Panella’s loose gear.

Hyapatia jumped up at the second sounding of the horn.

“Stay down!,” Panella finished with her boots and tugged at Hyapatia’s arm.

“Run!” Hyapatia said as she pulled away and dived into the water.

The raspy blare of the horn cried out three more times.

Panella stood up and turned toward the water when her feet suddenly stopped moving. She should have pitched forward and fallen, but her arms and body would not move either. She could move her eyes, and as she glanced down, she could see that she was caught like a log trapped in a frozen winter stream.

“Those are no mermaids!,” Vou Bois shouted out.

Panella could see a flicker of Hyapatia as she came up for air.

“Your vile passions will not be permitted to degrade the land!” Vou Bois cried.

Panella could just start to flex her arms when another blast of blue and white ice shot toward and enveloped her like a hungry barracuda devouring its prey. She saw the stone column that had cast the spell at her. Embedded with glowing blue gems, it had no scent that she would have been able to detect. Then she saw the tower let loose another spell at the water. A film of white spread across the water, crackling and shattering as it spread. A moment later and Hyapatia's frozen form rose up to the surface and rolled over like a chunk of ice.

Ebon troops came sloshing through the marsh, their heavy armor driving them ankle deep squishy marsh. Two fastened ropes about her arms, while another pair made her ankles fast. Drawing her elbows back and bringing her knees and ankles up, she was further bound.

“And what of this one?,” the vanguard called out.

Panella looked over to see Hyapatia’s outstretched arms and legs, still frozen and bobbing in the water.

“The meat is no good on that one,” the arc mage called out. “The freezing dries out the flesh and makes it leathery.”

“Leave it!,” Captain Vou Bois said.

Trussed like a chicken ready for roasting, Panella was taken to the back of a war wagon and hung upside down on a pole across from head and haunches of the Gingerfoot. She looked into the dead Rhoa’s eyes and said " You and I will share the same fate now."

The bone chilling pulse no longer held her immobile, so she was able to turn her head when one of the ebon guards yelled out in anger.

"I told you not to touch that accursed thing,' the vanguard spoke to a shorter blackguard, who was holding his bare right hand with his left gauntlet.
"All I did was grab the feathers and pull the arrow out. Now my hand burns like fire and I can't move the entire arm!"

Panella's laugh was the call of the whippoorwill. All four ebon guards looked towards her. "You should have kept your hands off the pretty birds.”

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” Captain Vou Bois walked over to Panella. He doffed a golden helm with a long tail of plumage and made a mock bow, “I am Captain Vou Bois, at your service.” He handed the helm to one of the blackguards, “Add a feather from one of those blue arrows to the rest on the helm.”

Panella watched him undo his banded kirtle and her eyes went wide in horror- not at the spiked codpiece but at what she knew to lay underneath. She looked over at the arc mage, but the woman refused to meet Panella’s gaze as she silently gathered the captain’s discarded clothing. Panella finally caught the arc mage's eye and said to her, “I doubt women like you have real hearts, but I hope that whatever it is that beats inside your chest will stop soon, and be still forever more."

"It's obvious you've never been broken in properly," Vou Bois said, reaching under her jerkin for a moment and cupping her breast. He stepped back and turned her jaw so that she had a good look at his glory. "Meet your new best friend, Sir Lancelot,"

Panella eyes went wide, "Better a death of a thousand scorpion stings than I should be defiled by your worm."

"Milord!," the shorter ebon knight cried out.

"You'll get your turn soon enough!," Vu Bois let his lips graze Panella’s cheek as he whispered, "Prepare to be trampled like a rose in a stampede."

"M'LORD!", " the other ebon warrior shouted. "Her LADYSHIP herself approaches"

"ATTENTION!” Captain Vou Bois yelled out to his black guards and began to try donning his armor. He knew it was too late as he saw the two headed raven banner rise over the hill. Six troops ran alongside her with pikes and another eight with bows, all of them wearing the spiked and jeweled helms with no eye holes. They relied entirely on their mistress’ magic to guide them. There was no mistaking this most dreaded of nobles.

Piety slowed to a walk and the loosed the reins and the eight blind archers formed a ring behind her. "You will not sully Dominus' choicest meats, " she said.

Vou Bois drew some bravery from the fact that he had not been killed already. On the other hand, Piety did seem to take more of an interest in poachers and witches than she did in the soldiers who served her so valiantly. "We weren't going to ruin the best parts, just tenderize them a bit." he smiled displaying both his good teeth.

"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away!," Piety shrieked and her right arm became a lance of flame lashing downward at Vou Bois. "For the education and betterment of the rest of you" Piety looked around at the rest of the black guards while the captain rolled on the ground screaming and clutching at the charred gash that had once been his pride. The blackguards were definitely paying attention to her now, so Piety continued, “the most succulent flesh - the ambrosia that the only the divine may feed upon- is that of the palms and soles.” She tapped Panella’s dangling hands and feet for emphasis.

“The rest may be consumed by mere mortals, so long as the taint of sin has been removed. Our moralists must first sanctify the flesh before we can partake of it." She looked at them more sternly now, "That you did not know this means you have been eating from the forbidden trees of life, that you have been eating beast flesh and weeds."

The blackguards all turned to flee. Piety's left arm turned into crystalline ice. "You should not fear, but rather rejoice!” she cried out as one by one they were held fast by icicles rising up from the ground and spearing them. “Today your spectacular capture has me feeling merciful. Your sins need not be deadly, but they do need to be exorcised."

“And what of me, Milady?” the arc mage asked.

Piety seemed to gaze at her for a moment. “Turn around,” she said. The arc mage obliged, turning slowly.

“You can decide your fate yourself, tonight in my chambers,” Piety looked away from the arc mage to the sky. She spread her arms wide. The black iron ring on her right hand crackled with orange lightning as she spoke, " Come my Angels of Regret and take these wretches to be reeducated by our finest morality experimenters."

A few minutes a buzzing whirring cacophony filled the air as two dozen winged female forms appeared in response to Piety's summons. What had once been fairest alabaster flesh was now ashen and ridden with coagulated punctures. The wings that had been mighty pinions of white and gold plumes were now a mosaic of scorched quills and translucent half-melted parchment thin skin. Where haloes once illuminated the most graceful faces, a disk of shadow emphasized their boney skulls and ram horns.

Panella screamed.

Piety looked at her and laughed. “You know what these are don’t you?”

Panella knew. “Penumbra” she muttered. “The Betraying Angels who forsook their duty.”

Four of the Betraying Angels rose up in the air with black guards clutched in their talons.

The arc mage shivered, “Supposedly, they only eat unborn children while still attached to the mother by the cord,”

Piety looked at the arc mage and sneered, “And to think I thought you worthy of warming my bed.”

The arc mage’s eyes got so wide they seemed as if they would fall out of her head, “The Umbra and the Penumbra. . . You are bringing about the Cataclysm again aren’t you?”

Piety pointed to the arc mage, “Field dress her,” and then walked away.

One of the betraying angels gripped Panella with its talons and lifted her into the air. Panella could see four faceless black guards trying to holding the arc mage’s thrashing arms and legs while a fifth began ripping her open with a knife. Panella screamed until she passed out.


The forum has a character limit, so this is split into two parts: you can find the second half in the following post in this thread

Please note:

This is part 2

This was originally written as the story for PoE graphic novel, that Chris gave Nobdi/Fannek and I permission for, with the caveat that it wasn't to be sold, and we were to make clear to readers that the story wasn't lore. Although this graphic novel project was well underway by Fall of 2013, it never reached the final stages. What I am posting here is the final story, and a few preliminary images that Nobdi/Fannek decided were finished enough for release.

This is the second part of the story (since the overall story exceeds the forum's character limits)
You can find the first part in the above original post


Unfortunately, formatting doesn't translate well from Word, but I will try to clean up the spacing and what not as best I can through edits.

I want to make clear that this story is not lore. It is just our vision of a possible origin for the ranger.

I hope you enjoy it.

Thanks to Grinding Gear Games for making such an amazing and challenging game, to Fannek for his inspiring artwork, and to the mysterious benefactor who gave me a PoE beta key because he liked my Diablo 2 fanfics.

The cover






Interior laboratory, location: unknown


Panella awoke suspended on an X shaped rack while two men in shapeless beige robes heated large greenish stones with swirled patterns. She saw the arc mage on a similar rack, but the woman she had thought dead was struggling against restraints. Panella’s hands twitched involuntarily and she discovered that she was not so restrained.

Apparently the stone had become hot enough, as the tonsured man with a plunged a glowing needle into a stone and withdrew some ruby fluid.

“What are you doing to me!” the arc mage screamed.

"You have been found worthy and are being given a gift from the skies,” the robed one with a completely bald head smiled at the arc mage.

As her eyes adjusted to the deep light, Panella could see a blood crusted boning knife hanging from a chain about his neck. What sort of holy men were these? Panella dared to turn her head and glance around for a moment. The chamber was huge!

The tonsured man spoke, “These are the malachite hearts, the sole remaining artifacts of gods long dead. The blood we extract from them will purify you and fortify you against all trials of the flesh."

Panella could see that his teeth had been removed. Now that she noticed, the ears on the two robed men seemed mismatched. The ears on the bald man were set too high on the bald head, the other wore his ears too far forward. Just what parts of morality are they experimenting with? Panella wondered.

“Please, I beg you, don’t do this,” the arc mage sobbed.

The bald man held the arc mages head, while the tonsured man plunged the glowing red needle into her heart and spoke, “Per istam sanctam unctionem and suam piissimam misericordiam, indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per cupiditatem”

The arc mage screamed and screamed. Panella wanted to wretch, but she stilled herself as her heart beat faster and faster. She had to get out of here now, but she knew it couldn’t be as easy as it seemed. Then the tonsured mage turned his back on her as he went back to the heated stones, and Panella could see what looked like a short handled feather duster. Except that it had blue feathers! They have no idea! Panella stifled the urge to jump for joy.

“The other one is coming around,” the bald moralist looked over and twisted the boning knife so that it came loose from the chain. “Shall I go get the straps and secure her?” he asked as he held the knife and walked toward Panella.

“We don’t have time for that, just brush her with the mace of serenity again,” the tonsured moralist plunged the needle into the stone.

The bald one put the knife back on the chain, and stroked her arms and legs three times with the blue feathers.

“That’s enough. Too much will make her flesh bitter,” the tonsured one extracted more of the malachite blood and walked back toward the arc mage.

“If you say so,” the bald one put the duster back at his belt and removed the heavy leather gloves. He looked straight into Panella’s eyes.

She let her body relax and then go limp. The hard part was keeping her eyes open and unfocussed. She wanted to see what they were doing, but would have only one chance at this. All those years of tingling numb fingers, the cramps in her arms and legs, the winters of eating the bitter tasting moonsniper meat had a purpose. Panella thought and closed her eyes for a moment. Thank you Great Spirit.

Panella waited until she heard his footsteps grow faint. She chanced a look over at the arc mage.

“Per istam sanctam unctionem and suam piissimam misericordiam, indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per tristem,” the tonsured man said, as he plunged the needle again into the arc mage’s heart.

The arc mage bucked and she turned her blood red eyes toward Panella and screamed out, “Please help me, just kill me please! I know you are just pretending to be paralyzed!”

Panella rolled off the table, just as the moralists looked her way. “You bitch!,” Panella shouted as she looked for some sort of exit.

The tonsured moralist was quicker, and was almost at Panella before she moved to put the X-Shaped rack in between them. She noticed the floor had funnels to drain off the blood. What kind of place was this? she wondered as followed the trough to see it led to the base of a huge amethyst gem. Twice the size of a large man, the gem pulsated with evil.

The tonsured moralist noticed her distracted gaze and reached out across the rack to swing the needle. Panella darted forward, caught his arm at the elbow and bent his arm backward so that he stabbed himself in the throat.

The moralist writhed on the floor in agony while gurgles of blood came out of his severed windpipe. The bald moralist made a leap over the rack, grabbed Panella’s shoulder and brought the boning knife down in a stabbing arc.

Panella twisted so that the blade only grazed her neck, and then she hooked her foot behind the moralist’s leg and shoved him backward. His head hit the rack and he was momentarily stunned. Panella was grateful she hadn’t been stripped, and looked around a moment for her gear. There were six of the huge gems, all set in an array with giant tubes leading upward to some sort of platform.

The moralist groaned, bringing Panella’s attention back. She wondered whether to try and kill him or flee.

“Kill me!,” the arc mage screamed. “Just kill me now!”

Panella ran over to the arc mage and grabbed her head by the hair. “You sit and watch your captain try to defile me, and now you expect me to save you?” Panella slammed the foolish woman’s head against the rack until she stopped screaming. Panella darted out of the stone chamber like a frightened rabbit.

A long set of stairs led upwards towards the light. Hoping it was the opening, Panella leapt up the stairs. She ran and ran and ran, and still the top seemed no nearer. Finally! She reached the last stair and ran out the archway into the bright sunlight. There was a wall blocking her, but a tree stood nearby that she could use to climb and possibly get over the wall. She paused to catch her breath, and then realized she didn’t need to. Her heart should have been pounding madly, but she couldn’t even feel it. She placed her hand over her heart and still felt nothing. It was then that she noticed the leaves had already begun turning red and gold. How could it be Autumn already, when the leaves and flowers were just starting to bud green a few hours before when she was captured? A few more golden leaves flittered and slowly dropped from the trees.

Panella, ascended the tree, ran along a stout tree limb and then leapt over the wall. As she tumbled and got back to her feet, she wondered how long had she been down there. What had they done to her? She reached under her leather top and felt a jagged scar across her chest. There was no soreness to it, so it had healed some time ago. Panella ran on, dropping into the underbrush and making her way around the city wall toward her back up stash.

She reached the stash and found it emptied. She turned to go back, but a flash of lightning stunned her and knocked her back. The moralist that had been holding the knife emerged from the circle of lightning and lifted Panella off the ground by her ponytail. Without any leverage, she was at his mercy. Unless... she reached behind her and plucked the boning knife from the Moralist’s neck chain with a twisting motion. She reached up and with one slice of the sharp weapon cut her ponytail and dropped to the ground tumbling to the side.

That was where her plan ended. She had no weapons, and if she ran, they would just catch her again.

“AAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUGHHHHHHHH!” came a loud scream as a huge Karui leapt onto the back of the moralist. The huge stone axe rose up and down three times, before the bludgeoned body of the moralist lay still.

A golden orb with three faces rolled out of the robes of the slain. An orb like that would trade for a month's worth of housing and food. Neither one of them tried to pick it up. She turned to the brave stranger and said, “Thank you for saving me.”

“Aaaauuuuuuuugh!” Another Kaori, only slightly smaller than the other, leapt into the area.

“Who is she?,” the smaller Kaori asked.

“The enemy of our enemies is our friend,” The larger Karui spoke. He nodded at the golden orb, “Go ahead, you earned it.”
Panella picked it up, feeling slightly guilty.

The smaller one spoke up, “I am Frater Mortis, and my comrade in marauding is from Sumeria - a warrior as hard as the core of a mountain, though he will not give his true name lest a witch hex him.”

The Sumerian smiled a lopsided grin, “You can call me Roan. What are you called?”

Panella rifled around a bit more in the dead moralists pockets, “They call me poacher and thief mostly, I am a huntress and my friends call me Panella.” She finished searching the body and pulled off the boots, deciding they were the only thing worth keeping.

“We can teach you a few things about dealing with evil. If you want, that is,” Frater Mortis said.

“Our friend shoots good, she can show you new things,” The Sumerian said.

Panella knew somehow she could trust these two big oxen like men. They had not looked at her with that funny look that most men did. They had looked at her only with concern, as her older brother did before he was captured and hauled away. “Yes, I will go with you,” Panella nodded vigorously, though I already know how to shoot well.”

Frater Mortis laughed. “I like your confidence, but can you put a dozen arrows in the air before the first one hits the ground?”

“It is not possible,” Panella replied. “Three, maybe four is the limit.”

“Our friend will show you how to draw three arrows at a time and fire them with little movement.”

The scoff escaped Panella before she could stifle it.

“She can shoot three dragonflies out of the air during a single jump, I have seen it myself,” Frater Mortis

Panella’s eyes went wide, “Perhaps, you speak truly?”

“Is there any other way of speaking?” Frater Mortis shook his head as if she had asked a wrong question.

All three turned toward the thundering sound of footsteps.

“An army is after us,” Roan, the Sumerian said.

“After me, probably,” Panella looked down, “You two should probably flee, they will let you go and just chase me.”

Frater Mortis grabbed her by both shoulders and shook her, “You must never accept defeat. We Karui have a saying, that victory is only one more axe swing away.”

“We must find a good place to fight from,” Roan spoke, then pointed at an archway in the wall. “We can try to hold them there.”

“They will slaughter...” Panella started, then said “Have you a weapon I can use?”

Roan handed her a rusted sword from his pack and shrugged, “It’s all I have.”

“It’ll do,” Panella took it and the three began running for the gate. They were halfway there when something snapped and clamped onto their legs. A chain secured the bear trap and all Panella could do was hobble in a circle. Frater Mortis and the Sumerian were bleeding badly and a horde of black guards swarmed around them. Panella tried to fight and managed to stab one of the blackguards through the neck before her sword was wrenched away and she was pummeled unconscious.



Theopolis Interior, The Great Hall of Judgment:

“Where are we,” Panella asked as her eyes opened.

One of the black guards used his guisarme to hook the ring around her neck and dragged Panella to her feet. Another pointed to the long line of other prisoners in a slowly moving line.

Panella moved and winced so hard at the pain that she almost fell. “What’s the point?” she screamed out. “My leg will start rotting in a few days and I will die as painfully as anything you can do!”

“That’s the spirit!,” a smallish looking witch shouted and held up a clenched fist in solidarity. A moment later and one of the guisarmes flashed out, sending the witch’s head tumbling.

One of the blackguards slashed the leather on Panella's leg and pulled it back. “As you can see, you are badly bruised, but not maimed for life, yet. If you do not shut up and get moving, you will be.”

Panella staggered forward against the pain and felt the hot tears run down her face. Was there no end to all these horrors?

She saw Frater Mortis and the Sumerian get prodded into the line behind her. “One swing away,” she mouthed silently and managed a little smile at the two of them. Roan nodded, but Frater Mortis just looked back with eyes hazed over from despair. Panella heard the sound of chains and gears and looked over to her right. The black guards were hoisting up an upside down man. When his head was shoulder high, another black guard came by and made two slashes at his throat and then a thrusting, twisting motion. The man screamed and flopped like a fish on a hook while his blood sprayed downward like a red waterfall.

Panella puked against the back of the person in front of her. He didn’t even notice. Panella wiped her mouth and looked to the right again. There were nearly a dozen people hanging from hooks. Some women, some older and even a few children. Troughs lined the floor and carried the blood away into an actual aqueduct.

“The blood never dries,” the person in front of Panella mumbled.

“Sorry, about that,” Panella whispered.

“It won’t matter in a few minutes,” the man replied and then both were silent as a black guard walked toward them with a scowl.

Panella could see the line ahead splitting into two. Those that went to the right were dragged off and hoisted up on the chains to be bled. There was a long line of people waiting to be bled. How can they stand there and not fight or run? she wondered. How can I stand here in line and shuffle forward to my own doom?

The ones to the left were clubbed and dragged off. As Panella got closer, she could see a huge man in blue robes at the juncture in the line. A giant torc of solid gold hung from his neck, and his wrists were bound with gauntlets surrounded with metal tube like spikes. Faint lightning flickered between the spikes.

Panella found herself getting closer, but she couldn’t look away from this powerful man. If he nodded, the prisoner was taken away and clubbed. If he made no movement, the prisoner was drug off to be bled. Panella found herself standing in front of him and he looked into her eyes. For a long silent moment nothing happened and then as Panella was just about to scream, he nodded.

Panella was dragged backward by the ring around her neck. She fell backward but before she hit the ground she was caught by strong arms. “You have been touched by God, and Dominus in his great mercy will allow you to live in exile.” The strong arms gripped her neck and lifted her up as they choked her. With her arms bound behind her, Panella managed a few feeble kicks before the world went black.




Unknown ship at sea

A large dorsal fin slowly rose from the water. It was shaped like a shark's but was boney and serrated. There was a spew of water from a blowhole, and then the creature breached the surface. Her glowing eyes wrapped around the side of her skull like three sets of gills. A mass of suckered arms flailed about as she tried to stay on top of the water so she could get a better look at the ship's crew.

"Weremaid!" yelled one of the crew, and clapped his hands over his ears.

The weremaid's powerful fluke appeared for a second and then with a downward thrust she lifted her upper half out of the water.

"But she's beautiful!," cried another of the crew as he ogled her bosom.

"Cover your ears, man or you're dead," the first crewmember shouted and ran below.

The weremaid rocked her shoulders back and forth and began singing.

Panella looked out the portal. Indeed the sea maid was enticing. Her small triangular face, petite nose, amber eyes and the mischievous smirk on her lips. Oh, what Panella would do with her on the beach! Panella started to reach for
herself, but the chains held her arms and ankles fast.

The ululating song continued driving through the ship, piercing heart, mind and bone.

Roan strained and fought at the great chains which kept him from the sea wench. He only succeeded in suspending himself upside down from the upper bunk.

The crew trampled each other trying to get to the top. Soon the water was filled with splashing sounds as they leapt overboard.

"Dirty Heathens! Stay away from my beloved!" Eli, the templar yelled out in a hoarse voice. What was wrong with him? He had quelled these desires of the flesh long ago, and yet it was as if he were in the first heated flush of youth.

"One good thrust is all it would take to make her mine, and forget about those pathetic overfed Oriathan buffoons," Garreon had spent his energy trying to get free, and now had barely enough energy to scowl.

"Have you all gone stark raving mad?," Nyx cried out, "That creature out there and her pack of piranha-bats will devour everything that touches the water."

"Indeed they are mad," Rinaldo, replied, between panting breaths. "Mad with a passion bestowed by the greatest of magics."

"How is it that you do not feel the call," Nyx eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Oh, I feel it," Rinaldo answered. "I've felt it before, and I've watched men turn into gibbering mindless puddles of flesh when the song has gone on for too long."

"What do you mean?," Nyx asked.

"The song itself is enough to kill over time. It is then that the weremaid matrons, the sirens, spawn their fry to feed upon the hapless corpse, who cannot defend themselves."

Eli, the Templar coughed and spoke, "I've heard that these half jellyfish creatures are so bloated with air that they sometimes die of spontaneous combustion."

Garreon, nodded, "It is best that you were far away when that happens, lest the flying bone and caustic entrails kill you as well."

Roan held his tongue for a moment, than could control it no more, "How is it that you all know so much of these horrible things?"

Garreon replied, "It is my nature to study that which kills and how best to use those techniques. Yonder Templar gets word through his brethren in this fearsome land, and I daresay the witch has studied the enchantments to see which she can make her own. "The duelist, however, I cannot account for."

"Nor should you dare to," Rinaldo snarled. "I know nothing of these beasts, but I witnessed Kalisa Maas singing twice before Daresso ripped her throat out." The nearer members of the audience were dead, hearts pierced by the song, brains numb to the world. Although judging by the smiles on their faces, they died happily, it was as if.. " he suddenly stopped his tale as the singing outside stopped, and the screaming began.

"They are feasting now," Nyx said.

The screams went on and on for minutes, and then the ship was silent except for the creaking of the timbers and the sloshing of the waves.

Then the scraping sounds began against the bottom of the hull.

What in the devil is that? Eli asked.

"I'm not sure I care to find out," Panella said. "There must be a way we can work together to get free."

"Yes," Garreon said. "If we work together back and forth, we might break the timber that holds us."

"And then what?" Rinaldo asked.

"We fight like men!" Roan replied.

"There are bound to be a few weapons left above by the sailors when they abandoned ship in such a hurry," Panella spoke up.

"We must make haste!" Eli rattled his chains for emphasis.

"Roan and Eli strained one way with their chains, then let Garreon and Rinaldo strain the other with theirs. After several attempts with no results they paused to catch their breath.

"Nothing!" Rinaldo said.

"We cannot give up yet!" Roan growled and they began again.

There was a large CRACK!

"It is working!" Rinaldo exclaimed.

No, it's not, Eli replied and pointed at the water flooding in from a hole in the bottom of the ship. A boney hand began reaching in from the hole.
There were more cracking and splitting sounds, and an army of boney hands was punching upwards through the wood. Three of these skeletal weremen breached the side of the ship and came swimming in, while the fourth one's wide finned tail was caught.

"No leverage!," Garreon shouted against the roar of the water surging in.

"What's that?," Panella asked.

"So long as our feet have purchase, they lack the same leverage, kick them away from you!," Garreon shouted.

A fourth wereman pushed through and the hold was halfway filled with water. The upper half of one of the sailors drifted in the wake of the wereman.

"The gailor!" Rinaldo shouted, and flailed about until he had hold of the dead man's arms. He frantically found the keys and unlocked himself, then threw the keys towards Panella, "Save yourselves if you can," he yelled and swam out through the shattered portal made by the invaders.

Panella fumbled for a moment, then was free. She swam over to Roan, loosened his shackles and his friends, and then she darted for the surface as the water began reaching their necks.

Roan caught her foot and pulled her back. "It would not be right to leave the others here like this," He pulled the keys from her hand and set about freeing the others.
The entire hold was under water when he had the last prisoner free. With a great effort he reached the surface and began choking and sputtering as he tried to expel the water from his lungs. Roan saw Panella swimming toward what looked like a beach, when suddenly he saw her go under as if pulled down by something. Roan tried to yell, but he didn't have the air. He pulled with his arms and tried to reach Panella., but the sea hag cut him off, her serrated fin darting back and forth. Roan thought to see something flash below him, and then the boney fin was thrashing back and forth while blood bubbled up. The fin sank and Garreon emerged from the water gasping for air and holding a dagger high.

With the sea hag dead, the weremen seemed to lose their fight and swam away. Roan looked ahead and saw Panella's head and arm clutching to a piece of wood. The templar was scrambling toward a piece of floating debris and Roan decided to do the same. The storm continued to lash around them, and Roan could not tell if there were getting closer or further away from the shore. He held tight and eventually lost awareness of his surroundings.





Lioneye's Watch

Panella listened to the crackling fire as she closed her eyes and tried to recall the details. She said, "I Awoke sputtering on the beach, next to the body of one of the survivors. Or so I thought, until I noticed he no longer breathed. It was when I bumped him that he began to speak somehow, and I knew something was dreadfully wrong. I went into a fit of madness. How was it that the Great Spirit mercy spared me, and yet thrust me into death's arms again? I was tired beyond belief. I was delirious. I fought like an animal, using a piece of driftwood as a club. I killed everything I saw, and I did not care if I were wounded, or if I were to die on this forsaken land. My senses only returned when I saw the

“And so these men and their friend taught you how to fight so bravely?” Nessa asked as she started a large pot of water boiling.

“The only thing I am certain of is that my head is pounding,” Panella said

“If Hillock doesn’t get you, Tarkleigh’s grog will,” Bestel said.

Nessa laughed, and Panella’s eyes were drawn to Nessa’s wobbling bosom. When she glanced up, she saw that Nessa was looking straight at her. Panella had to look away.

“Sometimes it is better to forget,” Nessa came over and stroked the back of Panella’s head gently.

Bestel made a sour face as he drained another mug, “Not that anyone could make something decent out of that seaweed mash.”

Tarkleigh muttered, “Dominus is the biggest thief of all, stealing our pasts and our memories, for God only knows what.”

Panella nodded. “Some memories are hazy and dream like.” She looked up into Nessa’s soulful caring eyes. “There was a man strapped to an X shaped device screaming for me to kill him before I left.” Panella’s eyes went cloudy as her mind went back to that moment. “Another woman had her arms hacked off, and chiurgeons were sewing some sort of red tubes onto the wounded area. The tubes looked like devilfish arms, except with spikes where the suckers should be.” Panella felt the bile rising in her throat, so she put a hand to her mouth and took deep breaths to ward off the heaving. “There were rivers of blood. Blood that never dried, and something swam beneath the blood.” Panella looked back up.

“Taniwha!,” Tarkleigh hissed.

“No,” Panella shook her head. “There was no continuous movement, and this was no minor evil like a taniwha.”

“How can you say that?” Nessa pulled away from comforting Panella. “Taniwha are dreadful things. One with a body like a centipede and two huge shark heads climbed out of the beach in Oriath and ate half my family before the arc mages wounded it enough to drive it back into the sea.”

“This was something greater,” Panella said. “The swirling movement beneath the blood was like underwater mouths that momentarily appeared to suck up the vital essences. This was something from the great deeps, something of chaos, like Yammuz or T’ia’matum.”

“You are talking about ancient myths now. No one believes those stories anymore,” Tarkleigh said.

“You are wrong,” a tall mountain of a man named Roan spoke up, leaning on the haft of his great stone axe, which was as tall as he was.

“What do you know of all this?” Nessa asked.

“I know that Sonambulmancers exist that can walk other people’s dreams, haunting them and killing them,” Roan said, “I know that a few years ago, no one had ever imagined, nor even heard of such a horror.” Roan spun the huge axe about its haft as if he were thinking. “This world has become infected with something ancient and primeval.”

Tarkleigh shook his head, “We have enough horrors without imagining new ones. I’ll go cut up what’s left of the Rhoa for tonight’s stew.”

“Big moon tonight,” the marauder Roan pointed upward while flexing his arm to try and impress this girl who had so much fight in her. He looked down at her Panella’s face, hoping to match smiles with her, but she wasn’t even looking. Instead, she was rumbling through her rucksack, looking for something.

“Good night to hunt some moon snipes,” Roan tried again.

Panella, quickly looked up at him with her piercing blue eyes. “Moon snipes have poisonous feathers, they are terrible for eating.” She pulled a large ball of torn cloth from her pack.

“Then why do you have moon snipe feathers in your arrows?” Roan’s eyes narrowed. If there was one thing he didn’t like, it was deception and trickery.

Panella replied, “The blue feathers on my poison arrows remind me to be more careful with them, and I have become somewhat immune to their effects due to exposure.” She unwrapped the cloth to reveal a rusted helmet, which she carefully held upside down.

Nessa looked up from a pot of water, which was just starting to boil. “My father told me that eating Moon Snipe was something the nobles of Oriath did to prove their bravery. A single bite of their flesh could be fatal if they were cooked wrong.” Nessa laughed, “He also told me, that he kept a flock of ordinary sand snipes dyed with woad, and that he charged the nobles a pretty penny for these blue but otherwise worthless fowl.”

Panella pulled out a bough of camellia with a single white flower, “I found this near a cave on that dismal beach.” She handed the flower to Nessa, hoping to see Nessa tuck the flower behind her right ear.

“That’s just what I needed!,” Nessa beamed and leaned over to give the shy ranger a kiss on the cheek. Nessa's hand hesitated over Panella's chest, "May I?"

Panella nodded.

Nessa's hand momentarily brushed Panella's tank top. "Wow, this is the softest leather I've ever felt. Where did you get it?" Nessa asked as she stepped back.

"I honestly don't remember," Panella replied blushing, then looked up with dismay to see Nessa tuck one of the white camellia blooms behind her left ear. Nessa then plucked the leaves from the bough and tossed them in a small wooden cup, which she filled with steaming water from the pot.

“The Rhoa meat we have left is getting rather ripe, I’m afraid,” Tarkleigh came over to the boiling dropped some chunks of meat into the boiling water.

“We’ll just have to cook them longer,” Nessa said while focused on her cup. “It hardly matters tonight.”

“Oh?,” Tarkleigh stroked Nessa’s jaw line and smiled when he saw the flower.

“Panella has discovered something wonderful,” Nessa poked the leaves in the cup a few times and leaned over it to savor the aroma.

“Is that tea?” Tarkleigh asked.

“Yes. Apparently, it is growing on the beach that Hillock used to terrorize,” Nessa smiled.

Panella looked away from the whole scene in disgust. Things couldn’t’ have possibly gone more wrong. What was she doing here anyway? These people weren’t her friends. Nessa’s father’s thugs had harried and threatened her for most of her life. Panella stood up and walked away from the group.

“Maybe I will go Moon Snipe hunting with you after all,” she said to Roan.

The big man shrugged his massive shoulders, “If you can’t make love, you might as well make war, my father used to say when he was chieftain.”

“Let’s make war then!” Panella grinned and headed for the arched gateway to the terraces.

“I wouldn’t go out there, if I were you,” Nessa said.

Panella looked back at her and then at Tarkleigh and replied, “I’d stay away from that foul meat, if I were you.” Then she stepped out onto the cool sand made blue by the strong moonlight. Roan clapped her on the back as he trotted ahead. His silhouette was a mountain of hair and muscle.

Nessa and Tarkleigh watched the two walk out of the camp.

“Why do you let her look at you like that?” Tarkleigh asked.

“Hush," Nessa replied, "She has suffered a terrible loss, and if it helps her forget for a moment, or two I don’t mind her stares. It's no worse than your hungry eyes on me!”

I’ll show you how hungry I am” Tarkleigh said.




The Terraces

Roan stopped suddenly. “I don’t see or hear anything.”

“Do the creatures here sleep at night?” Panella asked. In her experience, the real world didn’t begin until after the sunset, but her few days in Wraeclast told her it was strange and unfamiliar in many ways.

Roan shrugged, “Mudspitters usually fight for mates and nesting areas at night, and moon snipes come to eat all bodies that die during the day.”

Panella raised her nose a little. “Hold!” She cried out. “Do you smell that?”

Roan turned his head to catch the scent.

Panella said, “We need to move away from the ocean. When the sea smells like fresh cut grass it means Nammu’s Revenge is upon the water,”

Roan came back towards her. “I will trust what you say, though I have never heard of Nammu.”

Panella walked further up the sandy dunes as she explained, “Nammu was the giver of life, and the ocean is her womb. Her first children , the great serpent daughter T’iam’tum and Yammuz with eight arms and seven heads both lived in great deep, far below the earth where stone and water and fire are one element called chaos. Her two children abandoned their mother and hid in the deepest darkest parts of the ocean, so Nammu later gave birth to mermaids and sirens to keep her company. Yammuz or T’ia’matum grew jealous of their newer and more beautiful siblings and they used the foul forces of chaos to wipe out or pervert all the mermaids and sirens. In her grief and anger, Nammu cut herself open and declared that her blood would ever seek vengeance upon all that it touched.”

Panella continued, “When the morning sun rises, you will see her blood in the water stretching as far as the eye can see. I will don my oiled leathers and my burnt coconut mask, and I will harvest some of her blood, which I will dry and keep in a dark flask for making more poison arrows. “

“You have smelled this before?” Roan asked.

“Yes,” Panella nodded, as they reached a high dune where she stopped walking. “Usually you can see it before it happens. The water has a blue green slick, as if a painter has spilled his tints. If you look close, you will see a grainy sawdust like texture in the water. That is Nammu’s wrath reforming. When strong, the vapors alone will kill.”

“So we wait here until morning” Roan didn’t like inaction, and it certainly looked like nothing was going to happen between him and this pretty woman with a boy’s haircut. He sat down and wriggled his back into the sand dune to create a comfortable hollow . The sand was bit damp, but still warm. Roan let out a deep sigh

“What’s wrong,” Panella asked.

“You tell me,” Roan asked. “Is it my scarred eye or my shabby clothes that you detest so much that you will not even look at me?”

“No,” Panella replied. “It’s not that at all.”

“What then, my shambling gait and uncultured manners?” Roan would not play this game much longer.

“Stop. Just stop right now!” Panella yelled. “You are a fine man, proud, strong and capable. If I were to want a child, I would want the father to be someone like you.”

“You mean that?” Roan turned toward her, confused about what he should say now.

“I do, but not in the way that you would think,” Panella sighed. “Let me explain it this way, when I was a young girl in my village, there was another girl my age named Mipae’an whose mother was teaching her to fish. He skin was golden like amber. She was as lithe as a butterfly and when she laughed my heart fluttered. Each morning she walked out to the sea to prepare the nets. The sighing in my heart and the churning in my stomach was like the sighing of the ocean waves as I watched and waited every morning, but she never once looked back at me. Then one day, I saw her kiss a man! I had never felt so betrayed and I ran crying into the forest.”

Roan nodded, understanding things more clearly now, “It just goes to show you that you can’t trust a woman.”

“You got that right!,” Panella nodded, then looked at Roan and lightly punched him in the arm “Hey, I see what you did there!”

Roan laughed, and gave her a light punch back. “What do you remember about Dominus?” he asked.

“I’ve never met him,” Panella said.

“Neither have I, that I remember. Yet when I close my eyes I always imagine the same thing. Tell me what you see when you picture him,” Roan said.

Panella closed her eyes and was surprised at the clarity, “I see a man in blue robes with lightning flickering about his hands.”

“Good,” Roan said, “I see that too. Do you see the tubes sticking out of his gloves?”

Panella didn’t. She opened her eyes and then squinted. “Three rows of five tubes,”

“Exactly,” Roan said. “So we have met him before, but he has taken something away from us and perhaps while we were in those blood soaked chambers something was given to us as well.”

“You never mentioned the chambers before,” Panella felt the tiny hairs on her arms rising up in dread.

“Have you noticed that these strange gems seem to absorb our knowledge, to get more powerful as we learn?” Roan asked.

“Yes,” Panella said, “What of it?”

“There’s a term a rogue exile used just after my axe cleaved off both his arms,” Roan said, “Damn Gemlings!”

Panella clutched her knees to her body and rocked back and forth. She sucked in a deep breath. Her heart should have been pounding, but she couldn’t feel it at all. She was too terrified to ask if Roan could feel his heart beating anymore either. What had been done to them in those dark chambers?

“You don’t need to say anything, I already know” Roan said.

“But how?” Panella asked.

“The templar talks in his sleep. He knows too much, and so do we. They are using us, otherwise they would have killed us.” Roan said.

A new thought made a chill wash over Panella and her back arched, “What if they already did?”

Roan stood up and growled, but before he could say anything Panella spoke again, “You heard Bestel and Tarkleigh. Things don’t stay dead in Wraeclast. There has to be a reason for that, a reason for whatever it is they did to us.”

“Whatever that reason is, when we get to them, their screams will be heard at the bottom of the ocean," Roan stomped back towards Lioneye’s camp.

Panella was about to follow him when she heard a sound from a nearby clump of grass.

“Tsit Tsit! Tsit Tsit!”

“Tsit Tsit! Tsit Tsit!”

“Hakuturi!” she cried out and ran over to the spot. The weta crawled out and seemed to look at her for a moment, before hopping up and crawling into her pack.

Panella wasn’t sure if it was the same weta or not. It didn’t really matter. It would be her little forest fairy. She had made two new friends today! Well, maybe one. She wasn’t so sure Roan could be trusted completely. No one could be trusted in this wretched place, perhaps not even herself, Panella thought as she began walking back to the camp. What might she have done during those forgotten months? She tried to blank her mind and not think about the three tiny dark spots half way down her tank top.

Go and take your coffee. You deserve it.

Is there more?

"

Half_Ear wrote:

Is there more?

Yes, but not in the same timeline (origin). Part of it is here:

https://www.pathofexile.com/forum/view-thread/543826/page/2

I have been working on one for the witch, and hope to have that one done soon. Loate should be posting his version of a ranger origin story soon, and I am interested to read it.