Note: Baijiu is a strong alcoholic drink in the Pathfinder universe
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Albrecht Sunderhurst
Strix Ranger (Falconer, Skirmisher)
Chapter 1:
Beginnings
He remembered the cold.
More than anything it was the cold. The rocks upon which he lay seemed to steal whatever warmth that remained in his heart, chilling him to his very core. The wind, though blocked partially by the cliffs above him, bit into his dark flesh with malicious zeal. Even the sky worked against him, shutting out any hope of heat from the dim northern sun. It threatened to consume him.
But for some reason, he knew he could not die. This child, barely free of the womb and abandoned to fate, clung desperately to the fragile thread of life. It was as if somewhere deep down he had known that there was so much more life had to offer; so much he had yet to experience.
He allowed his body to go numb, but he would not break. He let his heavy lids fall and let the darkness wash over him, but he would not yield. Life would find a way.
And then there was warmth.
He couldn't feel it at first. His body was shutting down and lacked the strength to communicate this new sensation. Slowly, however, he noticed a change. The darkness was not so complete; his shivering began to wane. He became vaguely aware of the soft blanket wrapped around his tiny form, of the fire roaring beyond his eyelids which refused to open.
It was the voice that brought him back: a soft, tender thing which carried more warmth than any fire could provide.
"Don't worry, little one. Everything will be okay."
More than anything it was the cold. The rocks upon which he lay seemed to steal whatever warmth that remained in his heart, chilling him to his very core. The wind, though blocked partially by the cliffs above him, bit into his dark flesh with malicious zeal. Even the sky worked against him, shutting out any hope of heat from the dim northern sun. It threatened to consume him.
But for some reason, he knew he could not die. This child, barely free of the womb and abandoned to fate, clung desperately to the fragile thread of life. It was as if somewhere deep down he had known that there was so much more life had to offer; so much he had yet to experience.
He allowed his body to go numb, but he would not break. He let his heavy lids fall and let the darkness wash over him, but he would not yield. Life would find a way.
And then there was warmth.
He couldn't feel it at first. His body was shutting down and lacked the strength to communicate this new sensation. Slowly, however, he noticed a change. The darkness was not so complete; his shivering began to wane. He became vaguely aware of the soft blanket wrapped around his tiny form, of the fire roaring beyond his eyelids which refused to open.
It was the voice that brought him back: a soft, tender thing which carried more warmth than any fire could provide.
"Don't worry, little one. Everything will be okay."
Chapter 2: Seasoned
with Hatred
Albrecht smiled as he bent down to inspect his snare. Unlike
all of the others he’d checked, a sizable rabbit had been unfortunate enough to
get caught, which meant that the Strix and his adoptive parents would be eating
well tonight. The rest of the creature could also be put to use in mending or
crafting small items around their home. On their remote island resources were
scarce, and he had been taught to let nothing go to waste. With a small hunting
knife pulled from his boot, he released the rabbit and fastened it to his belt
before resetting the snare.
He straightened and patted his quarry. “Sorry, little one.
We appreciate your sacrifice.”
“Did we get any?”
Albrecht started as seemingly from nowhere his father Darius
appeared behind him. He was no slouch, but his parents were lighter of foot on
their worst days than he was perceptive on his best. He always found it amazing
how they could move without making a sound – the result of years of training in
the wild. Darius and Amastasia Sunderhurst were legends in their own right, but
their adventuring days were long behind them. These days they lived a quiet
life and seemed content to pass on their knowledge to their son, that he may
have his own adventures. He had considered asking them about it on numerous
occasions, but as they never brought it up he figured that he should leave it
well enough alone. They were happy, after all, and that’s what really mattered.
“Just one, father. Enough for a good stew tonight, and
possibly breakfast. In any case, I’ve reset the traps, so we can check again
tomorrow.”
His father’s kind smile was accompanied with a firm pat on
the shoulder. “Your mother will be
thrilled. Let’s head back.” With a smirk, he added, “Oh, and you’re cooking
tonight.”
o-o-o-o
The duo made quick work of the trek back to Cambria, one of
the few human settlements remaining in the Pelagos. For lesser creatures, the
undergrowth of the thick northern forests on their remote island would be all
but impassable, but to Darius and Albrecht, born and bred in the wilds, it was hardly
a hindrance. They emerged from the treeline outside their small settlement a
mere two hours after setting out.
Amastasia Sunderhurst was just emerging from the town’s
apothecary with a small pouch of spell components as they did so. She of course
noticed them immediately, and gave a quick wave. She seemed to float down the
few stairs in front of the shop, barely disturbing a single snowflake as she
touched the ground.
Her grace was not shared by the group passing by that same
shop, the strong smell of Baijiu wafting from their unwashed bodies. A cloud of
soft powder rose around them as they stumbled down the street. Upon seeing the
ranger, their sour moods took a turn for the worst.
Cambria, as you might imagine, did not take kindly to the
new addition to their remote town 16 years earlier. When the two legendary
hunters walked into town with a baby Strix, mere inches from death, the
superstitious inhabitants of the remote town regarded it as a demon, and have
been suffering from the prejudice ever since. Darius and Amastasia Sunderhurst
had faced down dragons (and worse) – a few disgruntled villagers were barely
worth recognition.
The biggest of the bunch (and by virtue of poor alcohol
tolerance, the bravest), took a step forward and puffed out his chest. With a
grimace, “Spawnwhore” hissed through his clenched teeth, and after a sharp
intake he followed the expletive with thick gob of saliva.
Quick as lightning and without missing a beat, Amastasia’s
trained hands gracefully snatched the hilt and of the dagger on her belt. It
spun once through the crisp air before returning to its sheath, and in that
split second the projectile was cut in two, passing harmlessly to either side
of its target.
The ranger, content with herself, ducked past the
self-satisfied thugs as if nothing had happened. As soon as she did so,
however, her eyes widened. “Wait, don’t!”
Albrecht, watching from the treeline, had seen the whole
exchange, and his jade eyes were bright with fury as he flew through the air
and collided violently with the thug.
“Stop it Al!”
His mother’s cries fell on deaf ears. The man he hit
collapsed in a heap, and the two men beside him screamed in fear as Albrecht’s
scaly wings spread to their full extent. His clenched fists shook from the
strain as he bent over the writhing ruffian, but before he could put his
intentions into action he was ripped from his feet. In a fluid display of
might, Amastasia pulled her son back and threw him to the ground. Shock
extinguished the fury within him, and the cold earth forced the air from his lungs.
By this time others from the village were starting to emerge
from their homes, hoping to discover the source of the commotion. What they
found was one of their own, coughing up his own blood, and two others cowering
in abject fear. Above them stood Amastasia, a vision of poise, and behind her
the demon, jumping deftly to his feet and gasping for air.
“Mark my words, spawnwhore! Reign in your beast, or put him
to the torch! He’ll bring only death to this place!”
“Well if you keep that up, he might,” she quipped. “He’s a
better man than the lot of you. Now run home. I’m sure you have more important
things to do than insult me.”
The sight of the ranger, standing stoic and unfazed in the
midst of such chaos, took much of the spark from the indignant crowd, and with
much grumbling they dispersed. Amastasia shot an unamused glance to her son.
“We’ll discuss this at home.”
He acknowledged her with a solemn nod, but before he left he
regarded the man on the floor, whose associates were now fleeing the scene.
“Today, I took your dignity. Next time it will be your life.
You will never disrespect my mother again.”
Chapter 3:
The Harder They Fall
“I think it knows we’re following it.”
Albrecht, Darius, and Amastasia crowded around the mangled
soldier. Her slender frame and golden armour suggested she was elven, but her head
had been crushed completely. The rest of her, oddly, appeared to be completely
untouched. Surrounding the body was an odd assortment of weaponry, ranging from
longbows to greatswords, and even one particularly vicious-looking battle
scythe. The weapons were all well-worn, but clean and reasonably undamaged.
To the Strix, the display seemed nonsensical, but
deliberate. “What makes you say that, father?”
It was his mother who answered instead. “This is a message.
Notice how carefully-laid everything is. This elf was murdered delicately, but
with great strength, indicating that our quarry has both power and precision.
The fact that the body was left so openly, and so close to the tracks we’re
following, tells of its confidence. These weapons are all clean, which means
they did not taste its flesh, but they are also worn, which indicates they were
wielded by experienced warriors. He’s letting us know that that he’s not afraid
of us.”
They had been chasing a giant for several days now. While
the family was out on an extended hunting trip it had attacked Cambria and run
off with several of the townsfolk’s children. A detachment of soldiers from a
neighbouring island had already been investigating odd activity in the region
and had passed through the small village shortly after. They were about four
days ahead, but from the gruesome scene in the clearing it seemed likely that
none had survived.
This adversary was proving to be more cunning than they had
anticipated. Even with three master trackers in pursuit they had almost been
misled by false trails on several occasions. The constant snowfall didn’t help,
of course, but the fact that a creature that large could hide its tracks and
still make such good progress through the forest was a testament to its skill.
Darius nodded solemnly. “I’d venture to guess that we’ll
catch up in a few hours if we’re quick, but he’ll likely be ready for us. Al,
it might be time for you to head back to town.”
Albrecht shook his head. “You know that’s not going to
happen. I’m not going to abandon you: especially not when we’re this close.”
“Sweetie, I know how you feel, and we appreciate the
thought, but this is more dangerous than—“
His mother’s words were cut short as a tremendous crash
sounded from the trees behind them. A huge boulder, taller than even the
hulking strix, flew through the air with tremendous speed toward the trio.
Albrecht and Darius managed to desperately dive out of the way, but Amastasia
had nowhere to go, and despite her godly reflexes took the full brunt of the
blow. It sent her careening backward into trees, and a red streak of blood
stained the snow along her trajectory.
The others immediately sprang into action.
Darius bolted after the boulder, drawing his bow as he went.
“Albrecht! Run!” In an instant he was next to his wife, and a white light
radiated from his outstretched hand that washed her wounds away. As she wiped
the blood from her eyes, only steadfast determination remained.
Albrecht took a different approach. Rather than going to his
mother’s side, he made a dash for the hole left by the rock with a great beat
of his powerful wings. He made a swift decision to ignore the longsword on his
back and stead snatched the first weapon in reach: the scythe. His grip
tightened on the weapon’s haft as their attacker came into view. The giant, a
scarred behemoth wearing crimson furs, had readied a gargantuan and
cruel-looking battleaxe. The beast’s face showed neither fear nor amusement.
Strix and giant alike wore expressions solely of focus on the task at hand,
cold and calculating.
Despite his speed, Albrecht felt an eternity pass as he grew
ever closer to the giant. The creature stood in a wide, low stance, with its
weapon poised for a quick and precise strike. Its steady breathing and calm
composure betrayed years of experience in combat, and its eyes betrayed an
intelligence beyond that of its kin. This was a seasoned, deadly warrior, and
it radiated murderous intent.
20 feet. It adjusted its feet to account for his angle of
approach.
15 feet. It tightened its grip on its weapon.
10 feet. Its muscles tensed to strike.
5 feet.
The giant released the energy stored in its muscles and set
his axe on a collision course with his opponent. At the same time, a single
arrow shot past the strix and embedded itself directly into the giant’s eye.
Taking advantage of the falter in the giant’s swing, Albrecht tucked in his
wings and entered a spiral to alter his trajectory, narrowing avoiding the edge
of the axe. In a blink he was past it, and his scythe connected squarely with
the beast’s throat.
The sound of metal on flesh rang sickly through the air, and
in a flash of crimson his blade separated the giant’s head from its body. The strix
was the first to touch the ground, skidding through the snow as he decelerated.
The giant’s head was next, followed shortly by its body.
He looked back through the trees to see his father lowering
his bow and his mother sheathing both of her swords. With a sigh of relief, he
smiled at them and nodded his thanks.
The deed was done.
o-o-o-o
Cambria was quiet when he returned.
After defeating the giant they had found the four children,
cold and afraid, in a stand of trees nearby. Albrecht had flown ahead to share
the good news, and had taken the beast’s skull as proof of their conquest.
At least, that’s what his parents thought. In truth he had
ulterior motives.
The few townsfolk who were outside couldn’t help but stare
as the strix landed in the center of the town square. Gasps and frightened
whispers radiated throughout those assembled.
Perfect, thought
Albrecht.
“Perople of Cambria!” His shout echoed throughout the town.
“Stand and be counted!”
The whispers turned into panic as more and more of the
villagers poured into the square. It wasn’t long before all of the town’s
inhabitants had been gathered, and the unwavering demon in their midst –
carrying a severed head, no less – was filling them all with unease.
He took a moment for the worry to percolate. It was time to
make a statement that none of them would ever forget.
In one fluid motion, Albrecht began to spin.
First came his left hand, holding the head. It came around
quickly and threw the skull above him.
Next came his right hand, holding the scythe. The blade
whistled through the air and embedded itself in the giant’s remains.
Finally came his eyes. As he planted the scythe, decorated
with his macabre prize, into the very center of the town square, he swept his
gaze across all those assembled.
“This,” he addressed the crowd, “is the creature we were
chasing. This is the creature that stole your children and slew two score
warriors from Throgain. This is the last creature to harm my family. I felled
it with my own hands, wielding this very blade. You always feared that I was a
demon: a bringer of misfortune and death. Now you know that your fears were
justified. I am the deathbringer, and I shall rain justice and retribution down
upon those who harm the ones I love. If ever you would dream of disrespecting
my family, then you will know fear greater even than that felt by this
once-proud warrior as my blade caused its blood to run cold. You will discover
that I am no longer Albrecht Sunderhurst, proud son of Darius and Amastasia
Sunderhurst. You will know what I truly am. I am the Reaper.”
Chapter 4:
Into the Unknown
Damn this cold,
thought Garrigan. If not for that
accursed barrier I’d be a thousand miles away, sipping chilled tea in a remote paradise. But now?
Now I’m stuck heading to almost certain doom trying to skirt the damn thing
through the expanse. How did I get here?
It was rhetorical, of course. One does not attempt to rob
the archmage of the Crystal Laureate without some sort of repercussion, but
greed had gotten the best of him. The allure of untold magical power and a
single misstep into a well-hidden divination was all it took to take the proud
battlemage out of his command and into the wilderness, stuck cooking stale
rations over a tiny campfire.
He blew another precious breath into the base of his gloves
to try and get a little feeling back into his fingers, and for the millionth
time contorted his body to its full range of motion. He was one of very few
mages who could cast comfortably in a suit of full plate, but if the thing
froze it was more of a prison than a boon.
Damn this cold.
Suddenly he felt a magical tug to the East and alarm bells
sounded in his mind. One of the wards he had placed around his camp had been
tripped. That meant someone was approaching, and this far North that could only
mean that they were doing so pointedly. He had set the wards a good distance
away, with full coverage of the surrounding area, so he should have a bit of
time, but having no knowledge of the nature of the threat he knew he couldn’t
risk sticking around. Immediately he reached into his spell pouch and began
casting. When the intruder arrived, he had no intention of still being around.
His arcane mumbling was cut short when an auburn bolt, accompanied
by the piercing shriek of a bird of prey, shot down from high above him and
collided squarely with his back. The blow nearly took him from his feet, and
caused a painful gash at the shoulder joint of his armour. More importantly, it
had interrupted his spell.
His eyes barely had the chance to widen in panic as he
looked through the trees to see a wave of negative energy surrounding with
darkness approaching him with tremendous speed. He brought his mailed arms in
front of his face in desperation, hoping to somehow cushion whatever was to
come.
The scythe passed through his thick armour as if it were
putty, digging into his tender flesh and filling his heart with utter despair.
Damn this cold, he
thought.
And then he was no more.
o-o-o-o
Albrecht was digging through his belt pouch as he entered
Mercuria’s bounty office. This small building in the middle of the Pelagos’
most bustling and diverse metropolis was where he acquired most of his
contracts. A high-profile bounty, usually easy fare for a hunter of his skill,
could keep him comfortable for months.
It helped that he didn’t have to worry about food or drink,
and he had the silver ring on his finger to thank for that. It also allowed him
to fully recover after only two hours of sleep, so he could gain ground on his
quarry with ease. He gave the ring an idle, appreciative spin as he dug. It was
a good investment.
“Ah, Reaper!” A thick and cheerful dwarf greeted the new
arrival from his customary place behind the office counter. The wall over his
stout shoulders was layered from floor to ceiling with bounties depicting all
manner of creatures. “And Duskwing, of course. Looking fine as always.”
“Hello, Husk,” Albrecht replied with a smile. His falcon let
out a self-satisfied squawk from his place on the Strix’s shoulder.
Husk reached into one of his desk drawers and pulled out a
small piece of jerky. He tossed it into the air, and without missing a beat Duskwing
darted from his perch and snatched it with his razor-sharp beak, alighting onto
the counter. The dwarf rubbed the falcon’s head with his finger, who pushed
against it and seemed to thoroughly enjoy the experience. “I didn’t expect you
to be back so soon.”
“Garrigan was a bit of a tough cookie, but since he couldn’t
teleport through the barrier there was only so far he could go. I’ve got his
ring here somewhere… Ah, there it is.”
From his pouch he produced a small signet ring: gold and
engraved with a crimson stag wreathed in mist. It seemed to hum with a faint
energy, but since its bearer was dead it stayed dormant. He also pulled a heavy
tome from his pack and placed it on the desk with a thud.
“As promised, the quarry’s signet ring and spellbook. I
returned the orb to the Crystal Laureate before coming here, so the archmage is
satisfied and has gone back to his research. You’ll find his letter of release
for the bounty in the book there. I’ll probably end up selling everything else
he had with him.”
Husk took a moment to look over the haul and cross reference
it with a logbook he kept under his desk. After reading the letter he
disappeared through a door that led deeper into the building. He returned a
short time later with a hefty pouch, its contents making a familiar and
satisfying clink. He passed it over the table to Albrecht, who nodded his thanks
before placing it into his pack.
“The bounty is yours, my friend. 300 platinum, to the coin.
Counted it myself, just to be sure. Though I daresay that orb you returned is
probably worth a hell of a lot more.”
“It’s only worth more if you know how to use it, and frankly
I couldn’t care less,” Albrecht shrugged. “The coin alone is more than enough
for my tastes.”
Husk smiled. “Fair enough. I should have known that you’d
never give in to temptation.” He plopped heavily back down into his chair. “Oh,
speaking of which, see anything you like? Not much for a hunter of your calibre
these days. You’ve already caught most of the serious criminals, and with your
reputation new ones are few and far between.”
He shook his head as he scanned the bounty board. Nothing
jumped out as particularly interesting prey. “That’s alright. I’ll let some of
the others have a go at it for a change.”
“Fair enough,” chuckled the dwarf. “I’ll see you around.”
Albrecht shook his hand before turning to leave, hoisting
his pack back onto his shoulder.
“Oh, by the way.” Husk’s voice caused Albrecht to pause and
look back, his ebony hand hovering over the doorknob. Duskwing took the
opportunity to fly back onto his shoulder. “Your pal Ugrog is hanging around
the harbour. Some special mission into the Expanse. Seems like something you
might be interested in.”
He let his hand finish its journey and turn the knob. “I
just might. Thanks for the information.”
o-o-o-o
“Next please.”
Ugrog sighed. It had been a long day. For reasons that he
could not comprehend there were numerous creatures of all sort lining up to
risk their lives by venturing into the unknown of the Expanse. He figured most
really didn’t comprehend the difficulty of what was being asked of them. The
Halfling girl who was leaving his small office had simply never seen a giant
before, and was curious.
She’d be dead within a
day, he thought. He dipped his quill into the inkwell and drew a thick,
deliberate line through her name in his logbook. Not on my watch.
When he looked up he almost fell back out of his chair. The
wall of black before him had such a forceful aura he could feel himself
inadvertently quivering, and he had not been ready for that. He shook his head
to compose himself. “Reaper! You nearly scared me to death. What brings you
here?”
Albrecht took a seat in the sizable chair across the desk.
It was a bit big, even for him, but he figured that all kinds would come
through, and they had to be accommodating for pretty much anyone. “Hello Ugrog.
And curiosity, mostly. I hear you’re recruiting people for a trip to the
expanse.”
“Ah yes. Well recruiting doesn’t seem like the right word.
Screening, more like. The giants are becoming a problem too serious to ignore,
so we’re sending a group up north to deal with the situation permanently. I’d
go myself, but…”
Albrecht held up a hand to stop him. “You’ve got a family,
my friend. There’s no need to justify that to me of all people.”
The orc provided an appreciative nod before continuing. “In
any case, we’ve had all kinds walk through this office. Most are either
delusional or insane, but we’ve had a few hopeful candidates. There’ve been a
number of your kind as well, though none with scaled wings.” He gestured to
Albrecht’s wings with his quill.
That’s a bit ironic,
he thought.
“I do believe that you are a very special strix.”
Albrecht laughed. “Well thank you. Actually I’m starting to
think that these things,” he spread his wings a bit in showcase, “are largely
why I was abandoned as a baby. But they allowed me to find my parents, and for
that I’m eternally grateful.”
“I’m glad. Not many people can find a silver lining to that
sort of thing. In any case, since you’re here, I might as well go through the
standard questions. Sound good?”
He furled his wings once again. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because you need me, and because there’s nothing left for
me to hunt in the Pelagos.”
“What can you offer to defeat the giants?”
“I’m a tireless and highly skilled tracker, and a have a
penchant for striking fear into the heart of even the surliest of creatures.
And if fear doesn’t work, I can always strike their heart with my scythe
instead.”
“What is your greatest regret?”
“That Duskwing can’t find a proper woman.” The bird
screeched in protest. Albrecht merely smiled. “As for myself, I tend to live
without regrets. Through careful planning and exceptional skill I can
accomplish pretty much anything I need to. Besides, my parents taught me to
respect the nature of the world and to keep moving forward. I figure it’s time
to take that in stride, and start moving North.”
