Today’s snippet, titled “The Shadowblood (pt 1)”, is a piece I wrote about my PC in Mark’s new (Good) Pathfinder Campaign.
      Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below.
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      Her cloak made a fairly comfortable pillow, though it did not compare to cool linen against her cheek. The first thought that crossed her mind as her consciousness swam up from the depths of dreamland was that she missed the crisp, clean feeling of a real pillowcase.
      The second thought was a grumbly, who is doing all that bloody yelling? Don’t they know we are trying to sleep?
      Third came recognition. Athynacious’ angry voice was echoed by Aron Kir.
      Groggy, she rolled to her feet and pulled her sword belt around her waist. Around her, she could hear others stirring in their tents, their every movement silhouetted by the candleflames and lanterns alighting within.
      “Get out of my face!”
      “I will not – there is something going on with you and you will tell me now or I’ll spill your lying guts here and now!”
      “The hell I will, ginger,” Aron Kir spat – literally – and half-drew his blade from its sheath. “Fuck you.”
      “No, fuck you!” came Athynacious’ eloquent reply.
      She pushed her hair back, twisting the long, curly mass into a coil and ducked through the opening. Night air, crisp but somewhat foetid in the way that all the air inside the Worldwound was stale and dank, whirled around her as she strode toward the confrontation. A circle was forming around them, the most orderly mob she had ever seen. There was no jeering or egging them on, as you might see in a city or a bar-room brawl. These men, by and large, were holy paladins sworn to uphold order. Encouraging hot-headed bloodshed would be unseemly.
      Rhiallis was just a step or two behind Graves, whose long legged gate was difficult to keep up with despite being fully armored even in the dead of night. Hastily, Rhiallis stopped and spoke the words of a simple incantation. She closed her eyes as the energies of the universe swirled about her. With a series of soft clangs, her armor appeared around her and settled into place as perfectly as if donned by an experienced squire.
      Armored, she hustled to catch up.
      Ahead of her, she watched Graves pause and bring up her shield, focusing the gaze of the divine on the crowd. After a moment, she shook her head at Mytra and Celeste, to indicate that she detected no evil.
      Rhiallis stopped where she was and concentrated as well. Almost instantly, a reddish glow at the back of her mind surged. There is evil among us!
      Celeste and Sosiel had gotten control of the two men, the cleric pulling his lover aside whilst the paladin tried to talk Athynacious down. Even as Rhiallis reached out to touch Graves’ shoulder, the crowd was breaking up.
      “Take him back to your tent, Sosiel, and find out what this was all about.” Celeste’s voice brooked no arguement and the pair began to walk to their beds.
      “Lieutenant,” Rhiallis lay her hand upon Graves’ arm, half-turning her around. “Behind us, this way. I detect something evil. Strongly so.”
      “Where?”
      Rhiallis lead her a dozen or so feet back toward the center of the encampment and stopped, focusing in the same direction as before. This was no mere trace of darkness, for she had certain tasted stronger auras before, but it was nothing to ignore.
      “There. Do you sense it, too?”
      “Yeah,” Graves said, drawing her blade. “Let’s go.”
      Sosiel and Aron were headed in the same direction and within a few paces, it became obvious that their tent was the source of the disturbance. I do not see any movement within, she told herself as they advanced. And certainly Sosiel and Aron are not… malingerers.
      “Hey!” Aron growled, as Graves pushed aside the flap and entered the tent without stopping to ask permission. “Hey! What the hell are you doing?”
      Rhiallis cast a look at Celeste, who stepped up to bar the pair’s path. “There is a powerful aura of evil coming from inside this tent. We must see what it is.”
      Together, she and Graves were able to pinpoint the point from which the evil radiated. It was a locked box and the closer they came to it, the more vividly it called to her. Rhiallis wanted to back away, but she could not leave the tent.
      “What is in here?” Graves jabbed her finger at the chest. “What is it?”
      Sosiel looked to Aron, whose face was nearly purple with indignant rage.
      “None of your fucking business! Get out of my tent and leave my things alone!”
      “Aron,” Sosiel said softly. “What’s in the box?”
      Rhiallis took a knee before the box and fumbled with the latch. She turned back to Graves and shook her head. “It is locked. A strong lock, at that.”
      Rounding on the lovers, Graves’ beautiful eyes were blazing. “The key, Aron. Give it to me.”
      “I will not!”
      “Aron,” Sosiel said again. “Give her the key.”
      “I won’t!”
      The Lieutenant leaned to one side. “Mira? Can you break into this?”
      “Sure!”
      Aron began to struggle, violently, and it took Celeste and Mytra both to hold him back. Sosiel’s handsome face bore a heart-breaking look of worry and betrayal and Rhiallis wanted to go to his side and reassure him that all would turn out… but she had experienced the rending agony of loss and could not bear to lie to a friend.
      “Leave my stuff alone!”
      Mira ignored his protests and made quick work of the difficult lock. Bouncing back to her feet, she moved several paces away – just in case. Rhiallis glancd at Graves for confirmation. The Lieutenant readied Radiance, a glowing golden symbol of all that was right in the world, and nodded.
      It seemed the whole camp was awake now, and watching from outside the tent flap. Suddenly, everything went still as the onlookers all drew in an anxious breath, and held it.
      With a grunt, Rhiallis flung open the chest.

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Note: Image is “King Jagiello Statue Central” by (Mulligand) from SXC.hu; edited by me