Travels In Albion – Bower Lake

Ah, Bower Lake. There really is no more beautiful sight in the entire land of Albion than the sunset reflecting off the lake. Of everyone in the world I should know that best. I’ve travelled across the entire land from mountain to swamp, bustling city to peaceful farming village, haunted tombs to balverine infested coastal roads. Yet it is here, where I grew up that I can finally find peace. Well, I didn’t grow up only in this place. For a while I had a family. A loving mother and father, and a sister who used to set up games on the farm where we lived. Time is truly the cruelest of my enemies though, taking each of them from me, forcing me to scrape by on the cold streets of Bowerstone, then taking the last thing I could call my own and leaving me for dead. So many tragedies in my life, yet each is a distant memory now. I’ve always been a survivor; always had the will to put my hardships behind me until I was ready to face them. And that’s why I’m here now.

I stroll casually past Hero Hill, wondering what past heroes had glorious moments there and if they’d felt even a fraction of the pain that place had caused me. A travelling games master passes me on the road and offers me a game of spinnerbox. For a second I imagine a vast city of lights filled with spinnerboxes and people piling their life savings into them. It’s a beautiful place yet corrupt to the core. Shuddering from this thought, I decline his invitation and make my way to the camp.

Ten long years I spent in this camp. They took care of me when I was all but dead. Raised me to be one of their own. As I set out into the world and made a name for myself they were the first to benefit. I bought the entire camp from the lord of the land and set the rents to free as repayment for their kindness. I even put a friendly word in with traders to decrease the prices they have to pay in shops. They saved my life so I gave them a better life. It seemed so simple back then.

I can see her caravan as I enter the camp site. Theresa – it was she who saved my life that fateful night when destiny took everything from me, she who set me on the path of revenge. Funny thing about revenge is that it’s an acquired taste, and once you’ve got the feel for it you want more and more.

The first of my former family falls beneath my blade easily. The gypsies react in shock, some instinctively drawing their pistols, others running for shelter. But there is no hiding place for them. I run them through one by one until all that remains are the children and Bob, the guy who runs the general store. Calling forth the power in my blood I conjure a ball of fire in my hands and pour more of my energies into it. Bob stands paralysed with fear as the raging inferno grows ever larger until I can contain it no longer and hurl it into his face, frying him in his own juices. I turn my attention to the children and tell them that they have been spared so that the camp might live on. They’re crying. Poor kids are just too young understand that I grew up here and had to endure ten damn years of being called Little Sparrow by these people, all cause a bird crapped on my head once. Once, damn it!

Crossing the gypsies off my list I head back to the lake to catch the first glimpses of sunrise. Yes, revenge has a distinct flavour, Theresa. And I, Albion’s Little Dumpling, like it.

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21 thoughts on “Travels In Albion – Bower Lake

  1. Mart, I killed you too. You trapped me in my house and started making rude suggestions without taking no for an answer. :mad:.Moe, it's Dumpling now, not Sparrow. Get it right or I'll do to you what I did to Yarb the Storyteller.Aadil, keep telling yourself that. :devil:.Alla, it had to be done. It was either that or sacrifice him at the Temple of Shadows and hope he died by being turned into a chicken or a prostitute. :up:.Fan, thanks for the compliment. Having seen the state of Dennis when he finally left your dungeon I know you have a high tolerance for bodily mutilation. 😀

  2. Yes Little Dumpling. Whatever you say. 🙄

    Get it right or I'll do to you what I did to Yarb the Storyteller.

    That's not much of a threat. Some of us wouldn't object to being force-fed Minstrels until we explode. :happy:

  3. If by "Minstrels" you mean Rising Sun war cleavers, and if by "force-fed" you mean shoved up his ass then you're spot on. :up:

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