Crunch Bimbleton, Chronicles of an Exile

These are the official records of Crunch Bimbleton, exile. I am writing this journal to document my life as I remember it. I guess I should start from the beginning of my life. It would suit the nature of this document.

I was raised in a desert land to the far west of this continent, a scorching run of sand dunes hot enough to burn skin off of one's body. In fact, I have seen this happen in person. It was an execution of a traitor to my people, and the adults and soldiers were gathered to watch this execution. He was thrown into the sunlight and his skin began to char and burn against the sand. The rest of his body blistered and turned red. He screamed and we watched, emotionless and silent. This was the fate of a true traitor, there is no exile for traitors. No, my story is different.

I was a soldier. I was taught only that which was necessary to fight and not die. In the desert of my people, we were taught that efficiency is necessary to survive. I believe that is why I have learned nothing more than survival and warfare from the teachings of my mentors. We were taught to fight by being handed swords with only a single order: "Survive." My first kill was a buzzard, chained to my armored body so that it had to kill me to survive. I was foolish to attempt to make friends with it. It only had the mind to survive, as I should have had from the beginning. I learned from this that there was no point in making friends, only killing that which threatened my life. I took this resolve and slew the buzzard. As a reward, I was to skin and cook it for my comrades. This was all I needed to learn before I was to become a proper soldier.

After many years of training and practice, hunting and killing, it was finally time. My first mission was to be a reconnaisance mission on some human-like creatures threatening our survival. We traveled for 12 hours in the day, I was exhausted but I persevered with my comrades. We set up camp for the night and went to sleep. At least, my comrades did. I was too "starry-eyed" (an expression I have learned on my travel to Rook) to fall asleep, too excited for my first chance to prove my worth. I heard a rustling around me and a voice, "Child, I have a gift for your people. Come to me, follow my voice..." As it trailed off, I wondered if I should trust the voice. It was not threatening my survival and was in fact offering me a gift. Peace, I thought. A mind after that which I have never known. I followed the voice to a hunched, shadowy figure. The figure outstretched a hand, a jewel on a chain hanging from it, "This is for you, young ensign. Take this to your loved ones and rejoice in its beauty." I replied simply, "Thank you, kind sir." I placed the trinket in a space in my armor's padding and took it to the encampment.

"SKELETONS!!!" was the word that I awoke to. It was nearly dawn, I could see it on the horizon. "How did they find us?!" another yelled. I heard my own voice in my head, though it sounded oddly not my own: "Run, you damn fool. There is no honor in a worthless death, and you must deliver the trinket to your clan." I called for a retreat, but my comrades had all began to run for the enemy. I felt a coldness I had never before experienced and ran as quickly as I could. It took as many hours to arrive at our camp as it took for me to return alone. "Why have you returned alone? Where are the others?" "They are dead. We were attacked by walking bones. What form of... something. How is this even possible? I have never before heard of skeletons walking and fighting with weapons." My confusion was met with a simple answer, "This is called magic. It allows the manipulation of the elements that make up everything in existence, and even the dead are not safe from its influence." The mystic of my people was the voice that said this to me. He waved his hands and became startled. "What do you mean you do not know of magic? I can sense magic on you. But I have never sensed it before..." I fumbled around my armor, shaking. I took out the trinket and showed it to the mystic. His face fell. "You have brought wa upon our people, boy. This is not some mundane trinket, there is magical energy flowing from it. Be glad you did not wear it, for it may be cursed. Who gave this to you?" I replied honestly, "A hunched man in the desert offered this to me in peace. He was cold, however."

"You shall be the death of us, boy. I understand you had good intentions, but you have no place among us. You will fight for your life against the strongest soldier of your rank. If you kill him, you may stay. If you die, such is your fate. Show mercy on him and you will be exiled."

I do not wish to recount the events of the duel. Know that I am alive and in exile. I am a strong warrior, but too kind to have a place among my people. My sentence was exile. The elders escorted me east, to what they called the shore and what I called the edge of the world. So much water... A raft had been prepared, either for a funeral or my exile. I was left my armor and weapons. They were tainted by my good spirit, the elders said. Though the last words I heard cut deeper than any would I had ever seen and hurt more than sandburn on bare feet.

"You are not my son, Crunch. It was a mistake to take you in. Your parents were weak and provided no tribute, but I made the decision to keep the infant they carried with them to contribute to our survival. You have only proven you are a worthless soldier, untrustworthy. There is no honor in your life, no purpose for you here or anywhere else. A plague upon those who would bring you in, for they will be accepting the worst kind of traitor."

A long silence. I felt my body become empty.

"You are no soldier, you are only worthy of exile. Now leave, before you waste our time any longer."

I set out to sea.

When I came to consciousness, I was surrounded by unfamiliar faces. I was cold. I felt frozen in place. "So cold..." I managed to whisper. The man at my feet smiled. "He's awake, but he's cold. How could he be freezing as he is, it is the dead of Summer here?" I spoke up with the last of my energy, "My homeland's... winters... are hotter than this..." This is the last time I fell unconscious. When I finally woke up again, the man at my feet spoke again. "We have revived him. How could one stand so much heat? He could melt from this." I felt it, the warmth he spoke of. Relatively speaking, of course, it was quite cool, but I had been in what he described as a "hypothermic" state. "We are glad you are awake now, young man." the man at my feet spoke. I attempted to sit up and was met with caution, "You have nearly died, you need more rest." A rage swelled in me at these words, I do not know why. "Rest is for those who are dead. You have said it yourself I am not dead, so let me show my worth by being alive." I thrusted myself into a sitting position. My muscles roared with pain and felt stiff. "If you keep up your outbursts you won't be alive, I assure you. Now then, you need to rest and warm back up. If what you say is true, then the climate of these lands is much colder than that of your homeland. You need to warm up, and you will be back in good health."

It is thanks to this man's kindness that I am alive today. He asked me many questions, my homeland, my name... "I am forbidden to speak of my homeland and my name is Crunch Bimbleton." "What did you do at your homeland, good Crunch?" "I am no longer worthy of my former title. The only title I carry with me is exile." "Thank you, good Crunch. I simply needed that information for my paperwork. You should address people as your full name and title, so they know who they are dealing with. You seem like a kind and driven person, you will be well liked, despite your title of exile. I can tell that names and duties are important to you, it is the only thing you know. Hold the title of exile with pride and prove to the world you are worth more than this."

He asked me if I knew of money. I did not, the only things my people did were necessary for survival and such a system seemed inefficient for survival. He acknowledged this and explained that in these lands, survival was only a small concern for most, that life was meant to be enjoyed and lived. "Surviving is not living, it is no more than existing. As this lamp exists, so did you. Only a single purpose, know nothing more than the one job you were made to do. But you are not a lamp, you are a man. You can live as you choose, so go and do it." He gave me several pounds of golden disks he referred to as "money" and sent me on my way. I spent almost all of this money on traveling goods that I deemed necessary to live. Water, a carryable bed, and food. I was reccomended to purchase some source of light and so I bought a lantern and oil I was told would allow it to light. In the small settlement I had arrived in, I heard of a large city of adventurers, Rook. I set out and arrived in Rook in a day. Exhausted from marching overnight, I found a watering hole suitable to rest in. The Golden Plow, it was called. I walked inside and saw two men imbibing large amounts of amber, frothy water and speaking in a slur.

"Hey, newcomer, come 'ave a drink with us," the man with one eye said to me. "Certainly, though I have little money," I replied. "How much is a container of that water? And why is it amber in color? Are you not concerned it is contaminated?" I felt these were legitimate concerns, but the two men laughed. "What are ya', a fuckin' square? It's ale, my good friend. I's fer yer mind, to keep you sane and to let you 'ave a good time," the other man said to me. "If it is good for my sanity, I feel I will need as much as I can get," I joyfully said. "This is the deal, newcomer. We're havin' a contest t' see who'll be the last t' hit the floor. We all drink a pint o' this 'ere ale 'n we keep going 'til the last man is conscious. You got that memorized?" I nodded and the man behind the counter put many drinks on a tray, and a lady brought the tray to our table. While the other two men had only one drink in front of them, I had six. "What is the meaning of this? How am I to drink all this 'ale' and you only each drink one?" The man with one eye laughed. "We din't start when ye came in 'ere, we be five drinks in already. So drink up, it'll be good fer ye."

I took a drink of the first cup and felt a warmness in my throat, a warmness like my homeland. 'This is perfect, this land is so cold and this ale can keep me warm' I thought with a smile growing on my face. I threw each of five pints down my throat and felt even warmer than before. "Therrrrre you have it, fiiiiiive pints." The room began to blur and I became sleepy but awake all at the same time. "On to number six!" they each yelled one after the other. We all drank this pint at the same time. We continued for only a couple minutes before I blacked out at the sight of another pint of ale in front of me on the table. I woke up some time later covered in a small amount of sticky water. 'My head... I feel like I haven't had water in days. What is the nature of this ale?'

The rest of my memory of this night at the plow is hazy. I remember the word 'sex', the first time I had heard this word in my life. I was teased for not knowing its meaning. I remember the people of the plow: good Luis and good Saul, the men that drank me into a stupor; good Rin and his pet scorpion; good Esre and Caisys, who advised me against the practice of 'sex' and instead offered to explain the concept to me; and the cutest little demon-kin I had the pleasure to meet, good K'rikka. In fact, I am at her house right now. She showed me kindness and prepared for me a warm with a bath of hot water. It was more water than I had seen in any one place before my exile. It felt so warm and reminded me of home. The only issue I had was the little demon's constant need to touch and lick me. I was raised on little water and was able to wash myself within only a couple minutes from head to foot. We spent the night in the same bed and she showed me the meaning and practice of sex. It was intriguing and pleasing.




I awoke a while ago in good K'rikka's house alone and decided to head to the plow, since it is the only place with which I am familiar. I met an old dark skinned Elf and a burning half-human devil-kin named Kaitos. The Elf shares my hatred of necromancy and good Kaitos is a shy and yound adventurer like myself. Good Kaitos and I were later accompanied on a request to investigate violent kidnapping in an area called 'The Slums' and we decided to investigate. We saw hunched figures dragging a woman away, the woman screaming horribly. Our band of adventurers pursued the fleshy creatures and slew three on the surface, though one escaped with the woman down into the sewage system beneath the ground. I do not know what happened before I was able to descend, for I was the last one on the surface. I was the only one who needed light to see underground and needed to spend time preparing myself for the descent. When I was ready, I climbed down the manhole and saw comrades immediately to the left and right being assaulted by strange fleshy hand-walking abominations.

I killed one before I noticed one of my comrades unconscious down the corridor. There was nothing I could do to save him. He was unconscious and in bad shape but he could be saved. Another ally fell in front of me to one of the fleshy beasts from the surface. As I dealt a killing blow to the creature in front of me, no other creatures alive, a smelly humanoid creature with a pair of axes charged at me and attempted to attack me. I was hurt badly but was able to heal myself. With help from good Kaitos and the rest, we were able to fell this foul beast. With many of us wounded and two unconscious, we took the unconscious to a local hospital, where the wounded of us received treatment overnight.

This morning we are to set out for the sewage system again and investigate the purpose of the woman's kidnapping.