Lest Dispelled Journal #1

Note: This is an in-character ‘session report’ done in a journal style from a GURPS game set in Pathfinder world of  Golarion. I play Octavian Steelpike, a Varisian (think Gypsy) woodsman character. He prefers his solitude, with just him and his pet panther Urma (which, based on a quick search I did, is Romanian for ‘To Follow/Shadow’). See here for more details, as is a blog by the GM, and has some great stuff about this campaign and other stuff the GM is interested in too.


Market Day; it’s like watching ants in an anthill or bees around a field of flowers, with all these people rushing around. At least with the ants and bees, they have a direction, they have a reason for being going around like that. That and their young are not left unattended to act so free. One of these days Urma is going to start snapping at their hands, I’m sure… and I’m not going to intervene. I mean, its enough of an insult having to use the leash, but I gotta get my materials somewhere. The land cannot provide everything I need, at least not keeping while on the go.

I try to avoid the towns as much as I can. I’m surprised more people don’t, they just don’t make sense. I mean, a person should be able to live with their own abilities or just shouldn’t be able to live at all. You need to make your way through life firm and strong, never altering your course for anything. Rivers chew their way through the countryside by their own power, no one helping it. So, these people who sit in tiny buildings, getting people to give them money for doing something they couldn’t be bothered to take time out of their day and do?

Today though, gives me an even bigger reason to avoid towns as much as I can. I mean, I’ve seen people taking things, I’ve heard people lying about things, but today, I saw someone kill a man in Sandpoint, just to watch him die. I don’t know what else it could be. They got into some kind of argument about finding some person and then this thing just changed into some giant man-bird cross and just cut this guy in the chest. A sloppy cut, wasting a lot of the good meat, but I don’t think it was thinking like a hunter, using all of your kill to let none go to waste. It was thinking more like… well, I don’t know what it was thinking like, maybe a wild animal, up against a wall, lashing out at anything in its way to freedom.

As the body hit the ground, it was then that someone kicked the anthill, knocked the beehive off the tree as everyone ran away, no real order, like chickens with their heads cut off. There was one man who tried to defend the others, the blacksmith running in to take this guy out but I think he got wasted as well. Shame, he made some decent cooking pots.

Now, I’ve seen things most people wouldn’t believe. I’ve seen a wolf pack tearing into a herd with no remorse, just doing what they do. But people are a weird creature. As most of these people were running, there were a few that then started coming to their senses that there was no randomness to this thing. We tried to take this thing out but at first it was just completely resisting everything before he started getting completely wrecked. Between him almost getting shot and then getting pounded on by a big ass sword… well, it was almost over. Then Urma sat on him and went to claw out his neck, ready to just tear him apart.

However, almost as strange as the whole thing started, it ended. This creature… well it like melted into the ground, leaving behind three raven statues that were collected by the gun wielding woman, she seemed to take special interest in them, so I suspect there’s more than meets the eye. I don’t know what this creature is, but I intend to find out. After all, as the Varisian say ‘One madman makes many madmen, and many madmen make madness’



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