Today’s snippet, titled “Lies Bleeding”, is a piece I wrote about an NPC in my Pathfinder Campaign (sort of the “King Maker” adventure path). The intention behind this was to illustrate events occurring in the world, but away from the PCs. They’re supposed to be writing their own pieces about actual in-game events. We shall see if any materialize.
      Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below.
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      The scent of blood hung heavy in the air. Some of it had come from the deer and some from the enemy, but most of it had belonged to his compatriots. Brave little Shane had fallen just there, his weapon not yet drawn. A scorch mark nearby showed where he had thrown his clay pot of alchemist’s fire. Mershella, the bustiest archer the Swarm’s ranks could offer, lay torn nearly in half. The halfling’s wolf-mount had torn her throat out, but only after someone’s lance dealt her a wound so grievous that it had killed her almost instantly. And just ten meters away was the set of prints in the ground where Kalus had watched the battle and then fled. Rat bastard.
      The sun was warm on his face and he smiled. That hurt. The dark-haired warrior had laid into him with furious fists; he was fairly certain he would wear the bruises for weeks, but it was worth it. He had bought his life with truth and if he had betrayed his own flesh and blood – he had – they deserved it.
      And so did he. Deltyr knew that know. Just because his family had been stealing cattle and collecting so-called taxes from farmers, ranchers, settlers, and travelers in the region for a dozen generations, there was no reason he had to participate. That old man on the Blue-Elk Ranch had never done anything to him, yet he and his twin, Kalus, had given him the beat-down of his life.
      Not to mention what his older cousin, Vamli, had done to Red Kozik ten years back. Leaving that poor kid fatherless and- well, it wasn’t as if she were the only orphan the Badman Brothers had left in their wake.
      I’m going to do it. I’ll leave Brevoy just like I promised Phoenix Rising, and I ain’t ever looking back. Deltyr let the warmth roll over his bare chest, the shade from the biggest tree in the copse receding as the sun crept across the sky. I’m gonna go to the Realm of the Mammoth Lords and get me a fucking mammoth. Always fancied riding a mammoth. And I’ll get me a pretty wife – way prettier than any of the toothless slags around here.
      It took him a great while to pull himself into a seated position. The pain was blinding and bile rose in his throat as he climbed to his feet. Deltyr averted his eyes from the bodies, freshly looted of armor and valuables, and rubbed his abdomen. Definitely at least one cracked rib – maybe two or three. That uppity noble fuck sure can hit.
      “Yeah,” Deltyr said, pressing his fists into his lower spine. “I’m going to turn over a new leaf. Just ‘cuz I’m a Badman, don’t mean I gotta be a bad man.”
      Those few words, perhaps the first sincere and wise of his life, were amongst the last he spoke to himself; before he took a single step, three icy-white bolts slammed into his back.
      Just before oblivion took him, Deltyr realized that one of those self-righteous, self-important, so called ‘heroes’ had lied like a rug. Aww, man. They said I could walk away with my life…
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Note: Image is “Amaranthus” by adzica from SXC.hu