Dexter's Journal
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A sturdy book, bound in dark brown leather, and filled with random notes, memoirs, and sketches. Seems to belong to a certain redbearded engineer…
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_Gods… my head.
Been held off of guard duty for a while, Miss Rain seems to think I need some rest. Either that, or I'm not fit to stand holding a sword and shield as I am. I got only myself to blame though.
Was standing guard the other day, when I found some strange goblin wandering around. I chased it down, and it dropped a pack on the ground. Called it a gift for staying away from the south, then he took off the way he came. Inside were a good amount of brass censers, filled with ground up leaves. No idea what it was, and the big druid fella nearby said that the best way to find out was to try it. So I did.
Lit the leaves and the smoke that came from the censer nearly knocked me on my arse. Everything started moving so slowly, and I could barely breathe. My entire body relaxed to the point that I couldn't lift my shield.
Drugs.
Little farker drugged me, though it was my own doing, it seems. Soon as I figured out what it was, I knew not to touch the stuff in the pack. I carried it with me until I could figure out what to do with them... 10 or 11 little brass censers in a pack. Here's where the trouble started...
My body wanted more. It had only had the vapors once, and already it craved more. My head started to ache at first, and it wasn't too bad to begin with... but it's been a couple of weeks now, and it's just getting worse. I can barely stand, my legs feel like jelly. I wobble along, feeling weak as all hells, moving 3 times slower than normal. And the headaches! Oh Gond Almighty, the headaches are the worst. I feel as if Talos himself is raging a mighty storm in my skull.
I thought it may be good to get my mind off this sickness, get a bit of exercise. I went for a game of SkullBall in the graveyard. Was going well until I ran into a filthy rotter. Dropped him in 4 slashes of my blade, but the stench off of his body made me sick. Bad. I was sweating, and puking my guts out. This on top of the withdrawals made me farking unable to stand. Fella I met while standing guard, name was Vlad. Seemed like a good guy, gave me the money to get the damned sickness treated. I did, and the sweating and puking went away. I haven't got any worse from it, but the weakness in my legs and body haven't gotten any better. Worse even. I think the damned sickness had some long term effects that the healer didn't take care of.
So here I am, practically useless as a guard, as I can't stand for very long without my legs giving out on me. Rain told me to rest, but damn it all, I hate doing nothing. I've been using this time off to work harder on my latest invention, the Flamebringer. It's coming along well, especially with Benji helping me out with the funding. It's nearly unbearable to swing my hammer while under this sickness, but I won't be bedridden like an old man. I'm 25 years old, and if my dad could see me now, I'm gonna make damned sure he'd be proud. Maybe I'll get him and Ma to come visit one day.
Better get back to work. I've almost got this tank rounded exactly as I want.
(A line is written in at the end, and circled as a reminder.)
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Underneath the sketch, are more scrawled writings:
Finished the plans! Just need to gather enough gold to build the prototype!
MacTavish Flamebringer Mark I
This metal tank is held in place on the user's back by two thick leather straps. Hard rubber hoses lead from the bottom of the tank to a nozzle in each hand. The fuel is pushed from the tank through the hoses into the nozzles by intricate gearwork. The tips of the nozzles ignite the fuel, burning any enemies in it's path.
Charges: 30 (To reflect fuel)
Burning Hands (level 2) - 3 charges (Reflects Low-stream)
Burning Hands (level 5) - 10 charges (Reflects High-stream)
Alchemist's Fire - 5 charges (Reflects burst)
Requires 6 bottles of Alchemist's fire to refill up to 30 charges
