# Pathfinder: Memories of Sin



## Renfield (May 30, 2009)

The preamble was too long originally. So I'm editing it.

Memories of Sin takes place in the setting of Paizo's Pathfinder Chronicles on the world of Golarion. A world that, at first glance, looks like most other fantasy worlds. When you take a closer look you see how many classic elements of D&D have been twisted slightly here, given a large helping of flavor there to make a world where you can run or play just about any type/genre of game you want. For those unfamiliar with the world I truly hope I am able to give it justice, for those more familiar, I hope I am able to give it justice 

This isn't an SH so much as it's my own little writing project. I need to practice, one of these days I just might get published, or not, who knows. The fact remains (and is quite clear if you read the story) that I need to practice. I've been putting it off until now. I figure, what a better way to get some daily writing in than to write little D&D inspired stories. 

Eventually I'll delete the above and replace it with a character summary, a sort of Dramatis Personae, or something. Anyway, I hope those reading enjoy.


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## Renfield (May 30, 2009)

*Memories of Sin*
*Chapter One*​
The sun hung fat and low on the horizon; its rays projecting out across Varisia illuminating the sky in a predominantly red hue, for a moment Zandu couldn’t tell if it was sunrise or sunset. The Varisian rubbed his bleary eyes and then patted his purse, empty, but not cut… spent on booze then. After which he surveyed his surroundings, he was leaned up against the side of some building and after a moment he recognized that he was still in Turtleback Ferry. He groaned as he began to feel the effects of the previous evening starting to build into what he was sure would be a pounding headache and with a sigh he set his hand to the ground to begin to push himself up.

Dizziness conspired with the wet viscous mass that had been last nights evening meal and sent Zandu back down onto his arse once more. He let out a hiss of pain as he somehow managed to slam his head against the wall which did nothing for that growing throbbing sensation that had been steadily building up. “Gods above why couldn’t I have slept through this part.” He said to himself and cast an accusing glare at the rising sun.  “Sarenrae, did I do something to offend?” he asked the glowing orb then harrumphed. “Bah, probably mocked your holy symbol for being a child’s doll one too many times.” He concluded aloud. 

Wiping his hand off in the dirt he tried to get up once again and gave another groan of pain as he discovered his ribs had been bruised at some point the previous evening. Zandu winced as he lifted a torn shirt to reveal a splotchy darkened patch of flesh shaped in such a fashion that hinted at knuckle related origins. 

“Getting sloppy.” He thought only to pause, sure he had thought that but someone else had said it out loud. Looking up he squinted into the sunlight raising a hand to shield his eyes as he stood and braced his back against the building. “Alessa?” he asked curiously. Sure enough when he finally moved to a position on unsteady legs where the sun hadn’t forced her face into a silhouette he made out the smooth and pale Chelaxian visage of the one person he could call friend in this backwards town.

“In the flesh.” She said and reached out to offer a steadying hand to one of Zandu’s shoulders. “Pardon me for not helping you up but you’re filthier than normal.” She said, he knew he must have looked terrible because her usual wry amusement was absent from her voice. “Gods you’re a mess Zan.” She said softly her tone heavy with concern. The Varisian frowned as he reached up to push a strand of dirty black hair from his face but said nothing.

He waited a moment with Alessa silently standing by to make sure he didn’t fall down again. He managed to take a couple steps and swayed for a moment, kept up only by his companion’s outstretched hand which still refused to make too much contact with him. “Ugh… just get me home Alessa.” He said as he tried to think of what had happened the previous evening. That it had been worse than others was clear, but he wanted to try and learn if it had been the usual drunken affair or if something different had happened. Had he harmed anyone? Or worse? 

Together they made their way through the morning streets towards the little apartment Zandu called home, a boarding house run by a halfling matron who had the uncanny ability to bring grown human men to their knees so that she might pinch their ear and chide them properly. Those who couldn’t be shamed in such a fashion soon discovered a broom handle was a deadly tripping weapon in her hands. Zandu managed to utter a prayer of thanks to Desna for avoiding the wrath of his pint sized hostess but remembered little else save falling upon his bed and into sweet sleep.

*     *     *     *     *​
Before the stone church stood a small figure, a gnome judging from the size and the fact that only a gnome would shave its head save for a very long bright green top knot, he examined the church with great interest though it was simple in its construction. He wore a travel stained cloak that upon closer inspection would reveal itself to have been woven from what appeared to be Varisian silk scarves. His clothes were plain traveling garments though his boots were obviously from two separate pairs though they appeared to fit just fine regardless.

“The church was once attacked by a huge monster you know.” A halfling, just over the age of majority, said as he approached the fascinated gnome.

For a moment the gnome looked as though he was startled but soon revealed that was actually quite amazed. “Really? I knew there was something interesting about this building. I said to myself ‘Ant, there has to be something utterly fascinating about the history of this building,’ I said  ‘Perhaps if you look at it long enough it will tell you!’ and then you came along. So I suppose the building did tell me with you as its proxy!” the gnome said in a rush.

The halfling laughed lightly and shook his head at the strange fellow before he furrowed his brow in confusion. “Wait, your name is Ant?” he said perplexed. “I thought gnomes liked long confusing names, don’t you?”

“But of course!” Ant said with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm which promptly died as he shuffled his feet. “But no one was able to remember or pronounce mine and kept calling me Ant. After seeing some Mwangi Dragon Ants eat one of those grumpy violent guerilla’s I decided that Ant wasn’t so bad of a name and changed it.” He said proudly.

“Just like that huh?” the halfling said more than asked.

“Yep, just like that! Don’t know why people make such a fuss about names; they’re quite easy to change if you don’t like yours. Do you like yours?” And said and the halfling smiled as he found himself keeping up with the fellows strange and sudden shift of emotional inflection in his speech.

“Yes, I like mine just fine, I’m Tallem Boldfellow, no relation to Bengiant.” The halfling said apparently quite proud of his surname and a little disappointed at the lack of relation.

“Bengiant?” the gnome asked curiously. “Who’s he?” 

Tallem stared at the gnome for a moment and then realization dawned upon him. “Wait, you’re not a Sanos Forrest gnome are you?” he said and mentally kicked himself for assuming all gnomes were from the near by settlements hidden within the Sanos. “Well, um, Bengiant was one of the people who sent the monster away, some huge seabeast and servant of Lamashtu. He later returned to slay the thing.” the halfling explained.

“Oh, wow, so this town has a genuine hero as well?” 

“Sort of. He’s busy in Cheliax and Katapesh trying to buy up or free halfling slaves. Word has it he wants to make a halfling nation here in Varisia. I was one of the slaves he freed in the first wave. Seeing as I’m tall for a Halfling my owners called me Tallem. I took the name Boldfellow to honor the one who saved me.” Tallem explained before furrowing his brow. “So, if you’re not from around here, what brings you to Turtleback Ferry?” the halfling asked. 

Ant seemed a little confused by the question as though wondering why anyone would be asked such a thing. Eventually he shrugged his shoulders and said “Well, I saw it on a map and thought to myself ‘Ant, that place has such an interesting name, I wonder if they Ferry across the river on the backs of giant turtles!’ and decided I’d come and see the turtles of Turtleback Ferry.”

“Oh, well, they’re down by the water, just follow the main road.” The halfling said as his smile faded. “Though they don’t ferry on the backs of turtles, more like in the shells of giant snapping turtles the village founder slew.” Tallem said warily not wanting to dampen such a cheerful souls spirits. 

Contrary to Tallem’s fears Ant only grinned “Really? Well I’ve seen the backs of turtles but never the inside of their backs!” and with that the odd little gnome raced off toward the river leaving the halfling to watch him depart. “That was an odd one even for a gnome.” The halfling said aloud before he turned to head into the church.

*     *     *     *     *​
Evening eventually came to Turtleback, as was it’s want, and soon the shining children of Desna illuminated the streets of the small village as people either turned in for the night or made their way _Bottom’s Up_, the local tavern, for a drink and other vices. While nothing remotely close to the vice dens of larger cities (let alone those of distant Katapesh or Absalom’s Puddles district) there was little to do in such a small place outside of ones work or trade. Since the _Paradise_, a pleasure barge that plied the waters of Claybottom lake, sank there had been little to entertain the various hunters, farmers or fishers of the region. While nowhere near as decadent as the sunken den of sin _Bottom’s Up_ sported some gambling events and the occasional fighting in a makeshift ring in the center of the tavern where all could see.

Zandu had thought he had regretted the drinking he had done the previous night before, now he realized he hadn’t truly begun to regret it. He leaned against the ropes as Alessa dabbed his forehead with a damp cloth and tsked at the Varisian. “Really now Zan, you used to be able to drop men like him in the first round,” she said giving him a slap to the cheek that was perhaps a little more hard than it needed to be for encouragement. “so stop whining about your head and show him how a real man fights.” This she said loud enough for his opponent to hear over the dull roar of the surrounding townsfolk. 

The Varisian winced, Alessa  wasn’t exactly promiscuous as much as she was a serial monogamist, and while the few men who had been romantically involved with held fond memories of their time with the lovely Chelaxian, Dorn was quite the exception. The woodsman had been used to being the charmer of Turtleback Ferry, he was a powerfully built man with rugged good looks, and tales of his conquests had spread far and wide in the region. He had almost celebrity status amongst the women of the surrounding villages, that was, until a very public break up showed he lacked the mental faculties to provide even the slightest bit of resistance to his lovers sharp tongue. Needless to say, after being humbled in such a fashion he had lost his luster amongst the local women and Alessa’s fast friendship with Zandu didn’t win him any favors with his opponent.

The woman could be surprisingly strong too as Zandu discovered when she pushed him up and back into the ring. He had just enough time to duck the hamfist that came speeding for his skull. He passed under the man and gave a sloppy punch to his ribs before righting himself just in time to block another punch. The next one, however, connected solidly and the Varisian felt his world spin.

The spinning came to a stop, well, his physical spinning did, the world itself still seemed to be moving. Dorn slapped his face on both cheeks bringing Zandu back to the painful reality of this match “When I’m done with you, Sczarni dog, I think I’ll show that little trollop of yours what a real man can do, whether she likes it or not.” The grizzly of a man said apparently making sure every word was smelled as well as heard. 

Oddly enough the breath didn’t seem to offend the Varisians senses as the woodsman had hoped. No, indeed Dorn got a lesson right then, rare is the man who actually expects a head but. 

Clutching his broken nose the bear of a man’s vision swam and when he cleared his eyes his opponent was gone. He didn’t turn soon enough as a kick to the kidney brought out a loud groan of pain from the man. A sweeping kick took his legs out from under him and he crashed to the floorboards with the Varisian leaping atop him. Already people were moving to pull Zandu off the woodsman but before they could he leaned in close “If you lay a finger on Alessa that she dislikes, listen to me and listen well: I. Will. Kill. You.” He said and gripping the sweat soaked hair he let loose a final blow with his closed fist and Dorns world went black.

*    *    *    *    *​
“Stop being a baby.” Alessa said as she dabbed at some of the blood on the side of Zandu’s face where a rather large bruise had almost swollen his eye shut. The Varisian hissed as she cleansed the cut with strong spirits and gave her a glare that had no spirit behind it. She smirked though when she spoke again her voice was tinged with concern “You really laid into him out there, we thought you might kill him, all the men were actually surprised you only hit him once after he went down.” she said and when her wounded friend said nothing more she continued. “He said something to set you off didn’t he. What exactly was it he said?” she asked tilting his chin up so she could look the Varisian in his good eye.

Zandu looked at his friend, one of the few people he cared for, and while they had shared a bed once before it became clear nothing could be between them. “He called me a Sczarni dog.” He said after looking into her eyes, they had always fascinated him, one was blue while the other was green. Sharply contrasting at that, not a hazel or darker tone that blended well. 

She tsked again and dabbed especially hard “Well if you don’t want to tell me then fine.” She said angrily, again her tone softened “We made some good coin, I’ll get you some mead, don’t move.” She said and left him propped in his chair as she made her way to the bar. Dorn had already regained consciousness and left the tavern taking his wounded pride with him and after the congratulations were over the young Varisian sighed and placed the wet cloth over his eyes and closed both as he got lost in the hum of tavern conversations. 

“Wow, that was impressive.” A nearby voice said prompting the Varisian to open his eyes. He looked around and noticed no one speaking to him. Zandu, however, had been in Turtleback Ferry long enough to experience the growing halfling population first hand and promptly looked down to see a rather odd looking gnome. His cloak was clean, pristine even and made of brightly colored silk woven together, it took only a moment to recognize the silk as Varisian silk scarves. The little one looked up at him as though eagerly awaiting a reply.

“Um, thank you.” He said a little thrown off by the brightly colored hair and cloak combined with the rather drab traveling clothes.

“You’re most welcome mighty Zandu!” the gnome said and bowed “I am Ant and was over there watching you fight when I said to myself ‘Ant,’ I said… that’s my name by the way ‘you should go and commend that noble warrior on his prowess in the ring’ and so I did and here I am.”

For a moment Zandu could only blink. “Um, thank you… again?” he said and then paused a moment “Wait, how do you know my name?”

“A little slow there aren’t you, a bit punch drunk maybe? I over heard your friend saying it.” The Varisian felt his head hurting again and rubbed his temples as he listened to the gnome. “By the way, why didn’t you tell your friend you got angry because the mean hairy human said he’d rape her?” His eyes widening Zandu could only stammer for a moment, Ants eyes widened as well and he promptly began an apology “I’m sorry, um, good ears I guess, sometimes too good, should I not ask?”

Still taken aback Zandu laughed and shook his head “By the gods you’re a dizzying little man aren’t you. No worries Ant, no worries, let’s just say Alessa doesn’t take kindly to chivalry, she takes offense to anyone who thinks she can’t protect herself.” He said and promptly looked behind him to make sure his friend hadn’t been nearby when he said that. He turned back just in time to catch a bottle the gnome tossed his way. Considering all the gnome had was a belt pouch on him the Varisian wasn’t quite sure where he had acquired such a bottle. “What’s this?”

“A reward!” the gnome said thrusting a finger to the sky. “That and I don’t like alcohol, makes me sleepy, but this is a bottle of spirits from… now where did I get it… Katapesh!”  he said triumphantly, once again thrusting his finger into the air. This drew a couple looks from the surrounding patrons though when the gnome said nothing further they turned back to their conversations. “Anyway, you look like an ale drinker to me, this is Acolyte Ale, I thought the man selling it called it Aco Light Ale so I figured it might be weak enough for me but he was kind enough to clear that up for me. Are you a religious man?” 

“Well, I did follow Desna… once.” Zandu said, he had already uncorked the bottle and promptly took a swig. It was indeed a less potent ale and he preferred his ale as a good substitute for breaking ones fast but it was still crisp and tasty. It tingled slightly as it hit his tongue and he felt a rather strange sensation around his eye which he soon found himself able to look out of once more. “What in the…”

“Oh, yes, he called it ‘Priest in a Bottle’ which is why I gave it to you. I said to myself ‘Ant, this man looks like he could use some healing, you should have him try that Acolyte Ale stuff seeing as Red Cardinal Wine might be a little too strong for the mans hurts, he looks like an ale drinker anyway.’ And so I gave you that bottle instead of the wine.” The gnome said in a rush.

“Who’s your friend Zandu?” Alessa asked having arrived with two tankards of mead. She looked disapprovingly at the bottle in her friends hand but that disappeared when she looked at his face. “How did…” but Zandu interrupted him raising the bottle with a smile and making a show of corking it and placing it on the table. 

He pointed to it and simply said “Good stuff that.” Before he made a waving motion with his hand, “now hand over the tankard already and sit down. This here is Ant. He apparently liked the fight.”

The three talked into the night with Alessa positively charmed by the strange gnome, Zandu suspected he might have been more annoyed by Ant had he not been in such a good mood.

*    *    *    *    *​
Dorn listened to the laughter from outside the tavern. He had indeed left but not until he had snatched a bottle of particularly strong spirits. Dwarves made good vodka, this only made sense considering their fondness for potatoes as well, and at present the better half of a fifth had gone into the bears belly. Bastards, he thought, all of them, in there laughing at his expense, they were probably talking about him right now, Dorn the fool, who couldn’t break a Sczarni boy who was half his weight.

Tired of listening to the merriment he made his down the road towards his home. When the Skull’s Crossing dam broke and flooded the town a series of houses closer to the river had been damaged beyond repair. Rather than find a place that was still in good condition he had bought a little land nice and cheap and simply rebuilt. He liked the solace of the place, the cluster of rotted buildings gave him the illusion of company while giving him the isolation he found himself preferring more and more these days. Eventually Turtleback Ferry would tear them down and rebuild but until then he’d enjoy what he considered the perks of living here. 

Which was probably why he was startled when he heard the voice from the shadows between two of the abandoned homes say “Help… me.”

Dorn jumped at the sound but upon recovering he squinted and peered into the shadows but only starlight permitting him to see he was only able to just make out a figure in between the buildings. “Please… help...so…weak…” the raspy voice said as it staggered a little closer. 

The woodsman stepped closer as he found himself grinning despite the anger in his voice “Who are you, what in the hells are you doing near my home?” he said wanting nothing more than to throttle something. “No one should be out here you know. Just me and I’m not in the mood if you’re trying to get something from me.” Dorn said, or at least tried to, he slurred most of it. While the man could drink most under the table he hadn’t had anything to eat that evening so the spirits went straight to his blood.

He moved forward hoping whoever was in the shadows would give him some excuse to attack it, but it was far faster than the lumbering hunter, so fast he only saw a blur as it slipped past and behind him. So fast he was only able to grip its strong leathery wrist. So fast he didn’t even get to cry out in alarm before it smashed his forehead against the wall of the abandoned building near his home.

And for the second time that evening, Dorns world went black. 


*    *    *    *    *​


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