The Inlet [https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/62f0da33-f242-466b-88dc-9909ef8d35a2/d8po5eh-63240e23-f108-44bd-a5f7-23f80fb60d52.jpg/v1/fill/w_900,h_509,q_75,strp/the_inlet_by_notvitruvian_d8po5eh-fullview.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOiIsImlzcyI6InVybjphcHA6Iiwib2JqIjpbW3siaGVpZ2h0IjoiPD01MDkiLCJwYXRoIjoiXC9mXC82MmYwZGEzMy1mMjQyLTQ2NmItODhkYy05OTA5ZWY4ZDM1YTJcL2Q4cG81ZWgtNjMyNDBlMjMtZjEwOC00NGJkLWE1ZjctMjNmODBmYjYwZDUyLmpwZyIsIndpZHRoIjoiPD05MDAifV1dLCJhdWQiOlsidXJuOnNlcnZpY2U6aW1hZ2Uub3BlcmF0aW9ucyJdfQ.Em9THxm9wwHfdATBOTHlCA1otBVvZG9JsGeRVL8bgQg]

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GREGOR

Note to Readers: For those interested in the structure of the King's Army, I have included a link. The King's Legion

(You will continue to play Gregor from the last chapter, using those stats.)

Slumped back down on the cold hard stone, Gregor knew the choice should have been a simple one. Join the King's Legion. Or remain where he was. And yet all he could think about was what would he gain from such a sacrifice, besides being taught magic? The King's Legion, for all it's vaunted strength in the field, took an oath to serve faithfully, guard the realm of Orkelyium with their lives, and protect her with their dying breaths. It was a powerful oath, and one sworn in magic, but for the life of him, Gregor could never understand why anyone would ever choose to swear their lives away. It was not the way of the true adventurer, nor even that of a mercenary. And yet, what other choice did he have? Despite what he had told the elf earlier, he thought he would have had a little trouble killing so many guards without a serious injury.

Still he supposed there was no harm in trying. At least not for him, he thought with a dark laugh.

Feet gathered up underneath him, he stood back up, and began testing each of the bars in turn. This being a storage cellar, he thought it may have been converted into holding cells recently, so perhaps they had rushed, and made mistakes.

(Check the stone floor.)

However after tugging at each one of them without much success, he turned his attention to the stone floor, hands pressed against the cold hard surface for cracks he could exploit, and found nothing. Which left him with only one option left. Brute force.

(Check the ceiling.)

However after tugging at each one of them without much success, he turned his attention towards the ceiling, and even he had to admit this cell was well made. Which left him with only one option. Brute force.

Backing up against the furthest wall, he took a deep breath, wondered at the absurdity of life that he had to resort to this, and charged forward. His shoulder hammered hard against the metal bars with a loud bang as he rebounded backwards, and swore, the pain in his shoulder roaring through him as he gritted his teeth.

-1 HP.

(Try again.)

Determined to not give up just yet, he charged again. Each time making enough noise to wake up the dead, when footsteps echoed down the stairs, and a voice grunted, "will you bloody well knock that off! Bad enough I've got a headache, without you bangin' away down there."

The minotaur that ducked it's head down to enter the cellar, a huge, stout warrior with patches of dark fur missing from his scalp, a broken horn that had once been painted silver, and a vivid scar across his left cheek, that gave the legionnaire quite the menacing appearance.

-1 HP.

+1 Morale.

(Look for another way.)

But at the realization it would not work, he kept searching the cell for another way, when footsteps echoed down the stairs. The minotaur that ducked it's head down to enter the cellar, a huge, stout warrior with patches of dark fur missing from his scalp, a broken horn that had once been painted silver, and a vivid scar across his left cheek, that gave the legionnaire quite the menacing appearance.

The two eyes that glared down at Gregor, were a mismatched pair with one white, and the other emerald green. "So you're the one that killed all those people. Well, I have to say you don't look like much. When's the last time you washed yourself, and cut that lice-ridden hair of yours?" Then he shook his head, "I suppose that won't matter much anymore. What with you heading for the chopping block."

Mouth twisted into a snarl at being insulted to his face, Gregor let out a growl, only for the big minotaur to ignore him, and gaze around the dungeon. "Fairly decent quarters you have here, considering the things you've done. I am Falax by the way, and what do I call you?"

(Answer, "death.")

Eyes a thundercloud that promised no mercy, Gregor replied back, "I am Death."

But if he thought to scare the minotaur off, all he got was a dry rumble of laughter as Falax clasped his arms around his belly. "You know, I think I will be sad to see you dead, redling, but what can I do? You've angered quite a few people, and I can't quite say no to the gold."

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+1 Morale.

(Give him your name.)

Seeing no point in denying who he was, he replied back, "Gregor."

And for a brief second the minotaur went still, his body frozen in place, when he spoke softly, "you know, I once heard stories about a Red Lander with that name, they called him the Red Savage of the Waste. They also say he murdered women in their sleep, ate the flesh of children, and bathed in the blood of men," the minotaur then held out his arms, "but then what do I know? Maybe you are he, or some other poor fool who got his name. Either way, you still need to die."

+2 Morale.

(Say nothing.)

Biting back a snide retort, Gregor sat back down, and closed his eyes. Be damned if he was going to waste time on this fool. He needed to figure another way to get out of here.

Falax however, unfazed by the silence, continued on, "you know, you are a hard man to find. First you slaughter my friends, then you go rabbiting off to kill some fool cultists who still believe in that old ancient nonsense. But me, I said to myself, a man like that just doesn't leave children behind. A man like that will eventually come back for them. And here you are."

Face hardened into granite, Gregor slowly advanced towards the bars, his gaze locking onto the minotaur's oddly colored eyes, and asked, "who are you?"

Smiling broadly with crooked yellow teeth, Falax shrugged his shoulders. "If you mean the man I killed for this uniform? I don't know. And as the saying goes a warrior should always keep eyes at the back of his head. But if you want to know who I work for?" He shrugged his big shoulders again, "I suppose it's no real secret. The Blood Rings don't take too kindly to fools who think they can be heroes."

With that he drew a small crossbow out from behind him. "We've talked long enough," and fired.

With no space to maneuver, and half caught by surprise at the sudden attack, Gregor took the bolt in his leg, and immediately felt himself beginning to go numb.

Falax who stood there still watching him, looked at Gregor with a mix of curiosity, and interest, as he collapsed to the stone floor, his head banging hard against the ground as excruciating pain leapt up his legs. The scream he tried to release, turned into a bubbling gurgle as the darkness came for Gregor, resolved into Kira with sad silver eyes, and felt himself become lost…

-1 HP.

...Mind adrift through the empty black void, Gregor could have sworn he felt hands sifting through his pockets, but that made no sense. He was dead, and he could finally rest at peace, when he felt it again, this time poking into his kidneys.

Eyes fluttered open in annoyance, he saw the minotaur leaning over him with a drawn knife, and had only a moment to realize he was still alive, when he saw Falax's startled gaze.

(Grab hold of his horns and twist.)

Heart leaping into his throat, he grabbed hold of what was left of his horns, and twisted hard, hearing a loud popping sound. Falax who had no time to do anything else, besides stare down at Gregor with mismatched eyes, slumped down on top of him.

Wheezing out a curse as the breath was squeezed out from his lungs, Gregor thrust the corpse aside, wondering what the assassin had been looking for? But more importantly how he was still alive? He had felt so sure the minotaur had meant to poison him, but judging by the look on his face, Falax was just as surprised.

+1 Morale.

(Knee him in the groin.)

Heart leaping into his throat, he kneed Falax hard in the groin, and couldn't help but feel pity for the would-be assassin as the minotaur winced in pain, before Gregor wrestled the knife free of his grasp, and slit the minotaur's throat. Falax who had no time to do anything else, besides stare down at him with mismatched eyes, slumped down on top of him.

Wheezing out a curse as the breath was squeezed out from his lungs, Gregor thrust the corpse aside, wondering what the assassin had been looking for? But more importantly how he was still alive? He had felt so sure the minotaur had meant to poison him, but judging by the look on his face, Falax was just as surprised.

+2 Morale.

(Headbutt him.)

Heart leaping into his throat, he grabbed the minotaur by the horns and brought his head forward in a clash of skulls that left Gregor dazed and his head ringing, when two big hands clasped his throat, and squeezed.

Arms flailing in the air as black spots flashed into view, Gregor could do nothing but rattle out a chuckle at headbutting a minotaur's thick-boned skull.

Death

Rolling up to his feet, he plucked the tiny bolt out of his leg, and discarded it, before he armed himself with the minotaur's longsword, and as an afterthought took the small crossbow as well.

Not really sure what to do now, he started for the stairs, when he heard screams ring out above him, along with the heavy clash of steel.

Eyes flashing up towards the ceiling, Gregor felt his heart clutch in his throat, and for what seemed like the second time in his life, he began to run as though everything depended on it. The rush of fear that washed through him, mixed in with thoughts of Lytan and Sara all alone.

Feet bounded up the stairs in two and threes, he was into the sleeping quarters for the soldiers, and saw flurries of activity as warriors armed themselves from weapon racks, when goblins in nothing but loincloths, and white warpaint, howled passed the doorway. The screams that blared from within the village, much louder now as Gregor ignored the stares of the guards, and rushed out into the streets.

Bared steel taking the life of a goblin that tried to race past him and stab an orc from behind, Gregor clove him in two, his head still spinning as he took in the sight of legionaries formed into a shield wall who pressed forward to battle dozens of goblins. Their wild howls of fury as they charged the thin line were drowned out by fireballs that scorched the road, killing dozens of greenskins, or to be more accurate goblins. He had always thought it odd that goblins and orcs were referred to as greenskins. But in any case, he had more important things to consider, such as the whereabouts of Lytan, and Sara.

  What do you do?

Choice 1. Help the legionaries in the street first?

Choice 2. Search the Golden Goose first?

Choice 3. Help protect the villagers first?