The Albionic Chronicles Part 1 Chapter 15: Friends and Enemies

Friends and Enemies

Sylvester, his senses keenly attuned to the situation, wasted no time in taking action. With a swift incantation, he conjured a radiant glow that pierced the shadows, casting an illuminating light upon the figures below. In the newfound clarity, the pair could see the outlines of two human forms, their hands raised in a gesture of surrender, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and uncertainty.

Sylvester regarded the siblings with a mix of curiosity and concern. "What are ya doin' down there, friends?" he inquired, his voice carrying a note of cautious interest.

Greg, the older of the two, spoke up, his words tinged with a blend of determination and uncertainty. "We heard about this island being available at the adventurer's guild in Virginia," he explained, his voice echoing faintly in the cellar. "So we came up here thinking that we could take on whatever was here. My sister has special talents, and I have been a ranger down there for a long time. It seemed like it would be a place for us to make a life for ourselves."

Sylvester nodded thoughtfully, absorbing the information. It was clear that these two had ventured here with hopeful aspirations, driven by a desire for afresh start and the promise of new opportunities. But the current state of affairs on the island suggested that their plans had encountered unforeseen challenges.

Bilo couldn't help but blurt out, "Didn't work out, I s'pose."

Greg's response was heavy with resignation. "No, we didn't know what was going on here. We... underestimated the threats," he admitted, his voices trained with exhaustion. "We have been here for some time, and we are out of supplies."

Concern etched Sylvester's features as he and Bilo descended the stairs, drawn by the dire situation unfolding below. Upon closer inspection, Greg appeared to be in a dire state. His injuries were evident, and he looked to be on the brink of starvation, his face gaunt and drawn from days of deprivation. Dark circles underscored his eyes, indicating a prolonged lack of sleep.

Bilo reached into his bag of holding, retrieving a ration packet, some dried meat, and a couple of hard tack biscuits, offering them to Greg. Grateful, the man accepted the provisions, his expression one of immense relief. "I am so glad you're not one of... them," he murmured, his voice laden with exhaustion.

Sylvester, ever the inquirer, leaned in with a furrowed brow. "And who exactly do you reckon 'them' are?" he inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Greg's response was tinged with fear. "They are terrible, vicious creatures," he explained, his voice trembling slightly. "I heard of them in Virginia. Hyena men, but they aren't normal. There is something else here."

Sylvester's mind raced as he considered the implications. "Ah, yes, gnolls," he mused, his fingers idly curling his ginger beard. "Long since extinct in Albion. You have to be careful. They reproduce quickly... That would explain the lack of birds and insects."

The Irishman turned to Bilo, his gaze heavy with concern, and asked, "Ready for a long fight, Bilo?" But the tiefling seemed preoccupied, engrossed in his attempts to comfort Sarah. Still bearing the stench and crusty aftermath of his food poisoning, Bilo stood before her, his once grand sable coat now stained and disheveled, rolls of his stomach protruding from beneath it like swollen hills cascading over his belt. With his arm outstretched, he offered a ration pack to the woman, his voice gruff but well-intentioned as he urged her to eat. Yet Sarah, trembling with fear and disgust, continually shook her head in refusal.