"02-08Homecoming (Galen: rough draft)" by Jeremy Campbell

The rain fell gently as Galen crested the hill over looking his home town. Through the trees he could see the clearing that surrounded the town proper. Morgan walked silently beside him cloak pulled down to hide her face. She was much smaller than Galen, standing barely taller than his waist. Her once white cloak was a light grey crusted with mud along the bottom hem. Next to anyone else she would have looked like a normal traveler, instead of a child. Standing 6'6" and weighing close to 300lbs Galen was a monster of a man. If Morgan’s heart was as heavy as her step, Galen wondered how she managed to carry on, but then the news they carried would likely break his parents hearts.

Galen carried a heavy pack as he followed his brother out of town. Despite the weight there was a spring to his step and a Lightness of heart. The young man had always looked up to Garrick, but now he was larger than life. Garrick had left the sleepy town of Millhaven 3 years earlier and had had many adventures in the time he’d been gone. He’d left the son of a farmer and returned a hero of story.

In the years following Garrick’s departure his younger brother had heard many stories. Most spoke of a penchant for women, booze and gambling, a few of his talent with a sword and his bravery. Galen ignored the first and listened to the second with relish, dreaming of the day he would follow in his brothers footsteps.

Only a few months past the stories had changed, fewer told of Garrick’s vices and more of his valor. Some even told of the young warrior leading a daring raid to rescue the daughter of a Imperial Councilman, but that was too much to be believed. Much to Galen’s surprise the story turned out to be true. Even more surprisingly Garrick seemed to hate hearing the story told. When Galen asked him about it once over a cup of ale Garrick had gone so silent the younger brother thought he’d passed out. As he was getting up to leave Garrick started speaking in a soft trembling voice.

“It’s all true little brother. I rescued Councilman Alerik’s daughter from a hoard of marauding orcs and goblins. I even cut down three trolls, but the stories never include the friends I lost or the horrors the poor girl suffered. I’ll never have to buy a drink anywhere in the kingdom, but it’s never enough to drown the vision of my best friend being eaten alive by all manner of vile creatures. Or dull the feeling of my blade sliding through his heart to spare him the agony of being left behind.”

Galen was dumbfounded. For a moment he just sat there, then with an unsteady voice he said, “Why didn’t you carry him out?”

A snort was Garrick’s only reply. After a moment of silence he leaned in close to Galen, breath reeking of mead and spirits. “There was no chance. We were all on a suicide mission. That a few of us made it out at all was a miracle.”

The older brother tossed back a tankard and waived the barmaid for another before continuing in a voice that grew steadier with every breath. “We heard about a large raiding party that was hitting caravan’s up around the Stonewall Pass, we never thought they’d be bold enough to attack a imperial caravan.”

“When the council heard Alerik’s daughter had been taken by a raiding party, they dispatched a small force to secure her return or at the very least take vengeance for her death. I was given lead of the men selected for the mission. I asked for more men,” Garrick’s face took a sour twist, “but they refused saying we would surely be enough to chastise some raiders. Never mind the fact they had wiped out a force twice as large to take the councilman’s daughter. A small force can move faster and slip in and out before they are noticed I was told.” He finished with a snort.

“I later learned we were undermanned because I’d bested Alerik’s eldest son at a tourney, me, gutterborn, letch and drunken soot. He'd already written off his daughter and used the situation as a front to get some payback” A look of frustration and anger passed over his face, then passed to resignation after a short time. Then he continued. “But at the time I just thought the council were fools. My men never complained, even though we suspected we were riding to our deaths. When we arrived we knew death would take us all, but still we had a duty to do. The men wanted me to gather information during the battle and then ride back when the battle was finished to advise the council of the small army we would soon attack.”

“I told them where to go and how to get there. My strong point isn’t strategy, it’s leading from the front.” Galen knew for a fact that was true. People had always been willing to follow Garrick just about anywhere, but when he tried to get people to go somewhere that he wasn’t going it just didn’t happen. “The men drew straw’s to see who’d observe and report back. It turned out to be a mousy little fellow who no one really knew, Jarrd was his name. He was a poor fighter, but a decent scout, really the perfect man for the job. We wouldn’t really miss him when the fighting broke out and he stood a better chance than most of making back to Ankar in one piece.”

We threw together a quick plan, well more of a orderly way to die in the least painful way possible. The camp was was nestled on the top of a small hill against a cliff so the only vantage overlooking it was from the top of the cliff. Unfortunately for us there were sentries posted there. Overwhelming numbers and organization, things just kept looking worse and worse.