Table Contents
Backstory
My parents and I left Lithuania when I was very young, too young to remember anything substantial. I assume because they wanted a better life and heard about opportunities in the United States from our cousins who had already moved there. My parents packed many of their belongings, gave to family or sold what we could not take, and we left for America.We settled in Chicago's Little Lithuania, near the intersection of Marquette Road and Western Avenue on the city's southwest side, where some family had come years before. I attended school in the United States and learned English, while my parents and cousins kept the language and traditions of home alive.
Those were good times: family and friends together, growing up in a mix of American and Lithuanian culture. There were good times and bad times, but the good times were worth dealing with the bad times.
I was greatly influenced by seeing crime be such a problem in Chicago during my youth, so I decided to become a cop after school. I applied to the academy and was accepted, which was probably due to luck as much as to my lack of an Lithuanian accent when speaking English.
After graduating from the academy, I was approached by a solemn man claiming to represent the federal government. One of my instructors (well, the one instructor who actually liked me) had passed my name along because he knew I was fluent in Lithuanian. Apparently the federal government was forming a new intelligent unit, the Office of Strategic Services, and my instructor was good friends with a recruiting agent.
The OSS was worried about rumors of German and Russian intelligence activity in Lithuania. Nazi Germany was becoming more and more belligerent, and the Communist Russians were extending their influence further and further west. They needed more information about activity in Lithuania, people on the ground collecting basic intelligence.
They were interested in me because I spoke both Lithuanian and English fluently and with the right accent, and I knew the customs so I would fit in well. By coincidence, my family had also received word that our grandmother who had stayed behind in Lithuania was ill, which the OSS already knew about. My cover would be returning to Lithuania to care for Grandma, while I would work among laborers who would be likely targets for recruitment by German and Russian agents. I was young and wanted to help change the world, so I accepted.
After training, I returned to Lithuania and moved into an apartment near Grandma, helping the extended family care for her. I also became a laborer, listening for news of Nazi or Communist organizers. Communist activity was apparently on the increase, and I passed information on to my local OSS contact.
Things were going smoothly until June 15th, 1940: the Russians invaded and occupied Lithuania, replacing the government with a Communist puppet regime. Later we found out that Germany and Russia had signed a non-aggression pact and had divided Europe between themselves. My OSS contact was either killed in the fighting or by Communist agents, but my cover was apparently still good because I lived.
I eventually fell in with the resistance as a member of the Lithuanian Activist Front. We fought several guerrilla skirmishes with Red Army troops, and once we even freed a group of fellow resistance fighters from a Communist prison. Well, freed the ones that had not been tortured to death already.
Then things changed completely again: On June 22, 1941, Germany attacked Russia. The resistance took advantage of this distraction and rallied partisan support in many cities, even taking control of them and declaring Lithuanian independence once again.
Unfortunately the Germans had other plans. They took control of the government and started rounding up laborers and shipping them to Germany to act as forced labor, and killing Jews by the scores. The resistance now became an anti-Nazi resistance, fighting the German occupiers and hoping the Allies would free us so Lithuania could be independent once more.
I was part of a small resistance cell outside of Klaipeda, where we mostly harassed German troops and supply convoys. One day I received word that my friend Abraham Gurwitsch has been rounded up with other Jews by an SS death squad. Unwisely we attacked the squad and freed most of the prisoners, though we lost several of our own people.
In 1944 Germany's weakness was apparent, and thus the Soviets started to invade Lithuania once again. We were fighting the Germans and the Russians both, and the chaos was unending. Here I was, a cop playing agent playing laborer playing resistance fighter, fighting two armies that were smashing into one another.
In January of 1945, the Red Army attacked Klaipeda. We tried to fight the Russians as the Germans retreated, but we were vastly outnumbered and out gunned. My cell was eventually pinned down in the alleyways, chased by Red Army troops. I yelled to my comrades to run and keep going, and I turned and faced the pursuing Communists. After hiding behind some rubble, I screamed madly and fired randomly towards the troops.
The last thing I remember is massive pain, followed by darkness and an approaching bright light.
Entry #1
This place is so strange, so different from the world I came from that I don’t know where to begin. I know that if I never make it back to Earth, the only way someone might find out about my fate is if they found some evidence of what happened to me. A journal seemed the easiest way to communicate my fate to those who may find evidence of my situation later.One moment I was running away from Soviet tanks and troops, chasing my resistance cell down ruined the roads and alleys outside of Klaipeda, Lithuania. We were almost caught, so I urged the rest of the group onward while I turned to face the enemy in a mad rush. I didn’t even see what hit me, but a burst of pain and a bright light ended my existence on Earth.
The next thing I knew I was in a jungle, naked and cold. Moonlight highlighted my surroundings, which consisted of trees, a strange red bird, and another naked man. I later learned his name was Taggart, and that he was from 18th century Scotland!
Somehow we had been moved or taken from different times, different places and both brought to this strange world. Later after we helped free the locals from yellow skinned slavers, we learned this world was called Samardan. We could hardly believe we were not on Earth, but the three moons and odd colored sky made the evidence right in front of out eyes hard to ignore.
At first I just accepted what was in front of me. I was no longer on Earth. Did I die? Is this some sort of purgatory? A waiting place for souls on their way somewhere else? Either a Heaven or Hell like grandmamma spoke of?
If it was one of those places, I could not figure out which. Even though this place is filled with conflict, it has been infinitely better than Soviet tanks and Russian steel beating down taking the life away from my fellow Lithuanian patriots.
As yet, I have seen no huge armies crushing a nation’s people before them in the name of their own leader or philosophy. And no German blitzkrieg destroying city after city until surrender was the only choice other than death.
This place is much better than where I came from, but I can’t help but feel guilt and regret for what I left behind. What has happened to the homeland? Did the Russians conquer Lithuania?
While I could supply information to Taggart, Father Daniel, and Aiden about their world’s future, they could not do the same for me because I was the farthest ahead in time of all the Earthlings I have met. Maybe I will meet someone brought here from further in time who can tell me what happened to Lithuania. Maybe not. I may have to live with the lack of knowledge.
Even though this place is less hellish than from where I came, it still has death and sorrow. Taggart was felled by a fiendish devil, a slave lord who wielded a strange weapon called a dikres. This hand gun shot fire from its barrel, which seems impossible when compared to the large size of the flamethrowers the Germans used on my people.
We held a memorial for Taggart after the island towns were freed from the slavers. He died a hero.
Entry #2
Again, the Mebani Sedathapir plucked us from our current location and tossed us into another situation not of our own choosing.We were headed to Vasha as we escaped from Ishkatesh and its ruler Lobiyeba, the self-styled Queen of Pain, with the beautiful Princess Deloba whom we had rescued. The evil Queen publicly claimed to follow Katesh, a right and noble god according to our local friend Pansan Besigi, but in reality was a follower of Naman the Bloody, a foul cult with dark secrets including sacrifices of live children.
With Besigi’s help, we rescued the Princess and many others from the dungeons underneath the city and headed for freedom. Deloba piloted the Malsanadar, a flying vessel that has no wings or otherwise visible means of flight, towards Vasha or at least in the general direction thereof determined with Aiden’s navigational assistance refined from years piloting ocean vessels.
Unfortunately the Mebani Sedathipir appeared to us before we reached Vasha. Everything within sight slowed down until time itself seemed to stop for all except the Sedathipir, Aiden, Father Daniel, and myself. After a brief protest from us and the usual “we are servants of the Mebani” speech from the red bird, the Sedathapir teleported us away to another place not of our choosing.
We appeared in the loft of a barn, which we later learned was in the Hearthstead of Deseba. Slavers were raiding the small village, so we aided the inhabitants and stopped the slavers from taking any prisoners. The battle was quick, for the slavers were only mercenaries and did not have the skill or strength to resist our attack for long.
We spent some time healing from our previous adventures in the village, which was occupied by a kind and thoughtful people who provided us with food and shelter. We learned the Hearthstead was on the continent of Rokim in the heart of the Chadbalad, a grouping of four continents. The villagers worshiped a saint (called a Kudisanba) known as Deseba, a peace loving being who they believed once walked upon Samardan as a mortal and now was some sort of divine being.
The slavers who attacked Hearthstead were from Gram, a nearby city-state that frequently sought slaves to built temples to Grambok the Strong (or Greedy or Everhungry), an entity known as the Lord of the Earth to its followers. The Highpriest of Gram is Garotok, who has great power in the city-state ruled by Emperor Ganbir.
Sen Belan, one of the priests of Hearthstead, told us that Ashar, another priest of their number, was called on by Deseba to tend to the flocks in the slave quarters of Gram. We decided to go to Gram to try and stop the attacks upon the people of Hearthstead and make contact with Sheran Ashar.
On our way to the city, we learned that many of the slaves were used to grow Defunan, a drug that is fed to all the slaves to make them docile and suggestible. The practice disgusted me and further convinced me of the evil present in the city-state of Gram.
We also discovered and rescued another Earthling from the forces of Gram. The Earthling was being tortured by a knight (a title followers of Gram were unworthy of) of Gram and his minions, nailed to an odd cross with Defunan burning underneath him. We fought and defeated the foul Green Knight and his evil minions, freeing the Earthling from his fate. Father Daniel worked his healing arts upon the gravely wounded man, bringing him back from the brink of death.
Once he recovered, the Earthling told us his name was Orbil Spinsan and he knew Sheran Ashar but had lost contact with him when the Gram forces put down a recent slave rebellion.
Orbil also gave us new hope that we could escape from the Mebani Sedathpir. Orbil told us how he was sent by the Sedathapir to help umani fight genani in name of Mebani. The crowd he led lost control and attacked innocent genani, so Orbil and his party saved the innocent genani. In anger, the Mebani exiled him and his fellows. Another group, the Tar-geir of the Star Court and their blue Sedathapir had saved him for exile and gave him the voluntary opportunity to help others.
Orbil said that while the Mebani stand for humans over humanity, the Tar-geir stand for humanity for all peoples. We expressed hope that we could speak with the representative of the Tar-geir soon and hoped to free ourselves from the unwilling servitude to the Mebani.
As we approached Gram, we saw the large array of temples around the base of the huge volcano…
Entry #3: Free Drinks, Part 1
The barkeep slowly wiped the bar, its polished wood surface smooth from decades of use. So far today there was nothing worth hurrying the cleaning over since business had been even slower than usual.Ever since the Polendashi rumors and whispers of strange behavior happening in the court started up, folks had kept more to themselves and spent less of their coin in the Garokat’s Hide. Perhaps they hoarded their coin for use in case of war or rebellion, thought Uranat.
Unfortunately the Garokat’s Hide was also Uranat’s hide: without enough of the customers’ coin to support his family and pay his taxes to the throne, Uranat would be even less happy than he was now. He hoped the situation would soon change for the better, and that his customers’ would return to the establishment once again.
While Uranat continued to wipe the bar and contemplated his situation, a loud murmur started to make its way through the thick door leading into the bar. The barkeep looked up just in time for the crowd of people, now potential customers, flooded into the bar, pushing a well armed man in front of them.
“A drink for Jonas the Shot is on me!” yelled one of the crowd.
“No,” said a tall, burly Vashan, “I shall buy for the archer who showed the Rokimmi that Vasha can shoot just as well!”
“Bah, I shall buy the Shot his drink!” shouted another man. “Barkeep!”
The well armed man, with swords, daggers, bow, and a kres (a kres!) on his back stepped up to the bar.
Jonas the Shot winked in Uranat’s direction as he sat down at the bar. “Friends, I think it is only fair that you may all buy me a drink in celebration of this victory.”
As the barkeep handed Jonas a drink, one of the crowd who was already on his way to inebriation spoke up. “You sure showed that arrogant Rokimmi a thing or two today. A rast could shoot better than he did!”
The man smiled and nodded his head, happy with his drunken insult, as Jonas turned with an unhappy look upon his face.
“Please do not disparage Roko Ne Krang. He is an honorable archer and the contest could have easily gone in his favor. I would feel confident with his bow watching my back in battle any day.”
As the crowd bought drinks, sat at tables, and began their celebrations, a plainly dressed man slowly walked up to the bar where Jonas sat.
“Sir,” the man spoke softly with his head down, “my lady requests the honor of speaking with you about a…”
The drunk man lashed out at the man, pushing him backwards onto the floor. “Get out of here, slave! We don’t want your kind here!”
Jonas leapt down from his bar stool and helped the quiet man back up to his feet. Speaking to the drunken oaf, Jonas’ tone was low but forceful. “This man deserves common courtesy and to be treated as you would want treated yourself. You should apologize or leave.”
Embarrassed but angry, the intoxicated man stood from his place at the bar. Jonas and the man stared at one another, each waiting to see what the other would do.
The tension in the air was palatable to those who were close by, including Uranat, who worried what was about to happen to his bar.
…
Entry #4: Free Drinks, Part 2
…The tension in the air was palatable to those who were close by, including Uranat, who worried what was about to happen to his bar.
After several moments of silence, the drunk man finally spoke. “Bah, I shall not apologize to a mere slave! Shot or not, slave lovers don’t deserve a free drink.”
“You’ll see, Shot,” the man whined as he marched towards the door and out of the bar, seething as he yelled. “Slave lovers get what is coming to them: treated like the slaves they worry so much about!”
The quiet slave appeared worried but not fearful, which somewhat surprised Jonas. “Thank you, sir… my lady would like to speak with you, if you are willing.”
Jonas followed the servant over to a table in a shadowed corner of the bar. Sitting there was a young woman with the fine clothes of a noble barely noticeable under a plain robe and hood, a detail the average umani would have missed.
“Alahalen, Jen Jonas,” the woman spoke. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Word of your victory in the archery contest has already spread quickly. To best an archer of Rokim speaks highly of one’s skill with the bow, and I am even more impressed after witnessing you defend my friend.”
“Alahalen and thank you, m’lady. I have to admit, I’m actually better with the kres and its siblings, though I am still quite fond of the bow.” Jonas smiled, “and it is easier to find arrows than crystals.”
“Yes, it is.” She glanced around at the adjacent tables with such subtlety that Jonas barely noticed. “I have a question for you, Jen Jonas. How do you feel about the slavery practiced here in the Janbilad?”
“Truthfully, I find it distasteful and morally wrong. All intelligent beings, whether Umani, Ganani, and even Farani, deserve better.” A frown crossed Jonas’ face. “It is a blemish upon the otherwise noble character of Vasha, and I hope once the current troubles pass the Emperor will consider eliminating slavery from the island in a peaceful manner.”
“And what of those places where a peaceful solution is not possible?” she asked inquisitively.
“Do you mean a place like Gram? I have been there and seen the evils of that society, with the huge populations of slaves forced to build their temples.” A shudder went down Jonas’ spine. “I think only a well-planned rebellion could permanently free those people from the horrible conditions under which they are forced to live.”
“You are probably right, Jen Jonas.” The woman looked directly at Jonas in a way that made him feel she was trying to see directly into his soul and read his very thoughts. Eventually, after a long pause, she continued. “It has been a pleasure meeting you, and I know we will speak again in the future. But now I have other affairs to which I must attend.”
The woman and her servant stood from the table, and the woman’s posture and grace showed the training of nobility even through the plain robes she wore over her fine clothing.
Jonas spoke up before they turned away. “I apologize m’lady, but I did not catch your names.”
She smiled. “I don’t remember giving them, but you should know in case you receive a message from me later. I am Stronba Jashinba of the Violet Falls. My friend here is Barok, and you may consider us both friends.”
Jonas nodded in appreciation. “Thank you, Stronba Jashinba of the Violet Falls. Shamalaya and good fortune to you both.”
Stronba Jashinba returned the nod, as did Barok. “Shamalaya, Jen Jonas.” And then they left the bar.
“How interesting”, Jonas thought to himself as he returned to his stool at the bar. Welcomed back by the revelers, Jonas continued to receive his free drinks.