3. The Long Walk, a Black Lion's Tale.

The Long Walk, a Black Lion's Tale.


  • Alright, fine.

    I'll let Underhill live. His promise on the reward being worth it came through, though I don't quite know how he always gets it just right. Clever lil jerk, he is.

    Into another portal we went, into the plane of dreams and nightmares, he said, which had me expecting to meet more Fey. Yay. That did not, however, turn out to be what it was. No, instead, we were challenged, and our greatest fears, or insecurities, or some other random afflictions beset us instead. You'd think mine would have been falling in battle, or being weak, or failing to save the one I love ... But I've been and done all those things. Instead, my fear was confusion. Not just the spell kind, either.

    I know it seems silly, but people look to me as a leader, more often than not. Because of that, I need to be able to know what people are saying, and doing. This is nearly IMPOSSIBLE when they have some kind of ... indecipherable accent, or mumble, or just adopt a bizarre way of speaking that I cannot get through. I find myself pausing, tipping my head to the side like a confused dog, and trying to guess which words sound like a real, actual, word ... and in a fight, that would cost LIVES. What if someone needed me to stop attacking the thing I'm chopping to pieces, because it's an illusion, and it's actually some poor washing well woman that I thought was a demon? Only Autumn seemed to get it, and she was quietly smiling at me, for which I'm grateful. She's a clever one!

    It drives me crazy, and for however long we were stuck down there ... everybody spoke like that. EVERYBODY. Like bloody Chandra and her mumbling, or Thyr'quara with her strange accent that makes me spend half the time just looking at her blankly. She really must think me an idiot at this point.

    I tried to explain, but nobody got it, til later. All I know is that I was losing it, and probably being kind of mean while I was at it. Not just to them, though. We were all affected strangely at some point or another... hells, especially VICK. For a time there, after I felled the GIGANTIC MONSTER that apparently had an aura of DEATH around it ... thank the GODS for my death ward crystal that I used, my last one too... they all fawned over, and praised VICK for saving them. Yes, THAT Vick. Misogynist, "Women are all crazy and trouble" Vick. Vick, the grand offender of women everywhere, and they couldn't get enough of him!

    Don't get me wrong. I don't necessarily NEED praise, or fawning over, but dammit, I unknowingly risked instant death, seriously, I think only that spelled saved me from the roar of magic I heard in my ears, took it down while it was chasing everyone who was fleeing, and it as "Ohh Vick, you were so brave Vick! Vick saved us!"

    AUGH

    Anyway, that wasn't the worst of it. Poor Lady Kathea was like a footnote in my mind. I saw her, but she wasn't ... her. Just some random nobody in the crowd. Steve was an elf ... which was hilarious if you've met the guy, and poor Syltria. I think I feel the worst for her, since I remember just loathing her. It was that "Oh Gods, why are THEY here" kind of feeling, just dripping with spite, and I wanted nothing to do with them, or anything they had to say. She was worse than useless, she was a nuisance, and wholly unnecessary. I said mean things, and often, thinking them wholly and completely true.

    Then the effect dropped. Everybody started talking normally, but we all remembered everything. Which meant I remembered all the horrible things I said ... and everyone else did too.

    Vick was immediately left alone, except by Thyr who thought it would be funny to hug him, and nearly got stabbed for it, I think... people finally understood why I was losing my mind, and poor Syltria, we could see the tear-stains on her face from the abuse we'd flung at her. Now I feel like I giant jerk, but she seems to have forgiven us, at least.

    How does that Derek guy, always seem to have the most horrific tasks for people? I rather think he's some kind of malevolent minor deity or something, sent to our plane to see how many different and interesting ways he could incite us to put OURSELVES through hell.

    Bastard.

    Alright, next on my to-do list ... maybe find myself a new look, write Ashena a better letter, and go make myself useful for the day. I'm feeling restless for some reason. May the Lion watch over me.


  • A letter is written in his journal before being sent out.

    Dearest Ashena,

    I'm not sure if my other more mundane letters have made it your way, but the troubles we've been having here, reminded me of yours. Not that you're a trouble, or it's your fault, but you mentioned bandits in your homeland in your letter. Bandits began showing here too, and like yours, more organized than expected.

    We've seen Crimson Spikes, ragtag types, and worse ... Creel Barbarians. I just got out of a nasty fight with a large group of them that saw me nearly die, and several others too. Luck, rage, and no small amount of skill from everyone saw us through, but it was a close thing. I hope that your bandit troubles are unrelated, and indeed quite over by now, but I am still here fighting, and will remain so, til the Lion takes me home. I have much more to write about, soon, but for now, I need to find this Derek Underhill bastard, and give him a kicking.

    Love,
    Your Lion


  • Blood and ashes!

    I got yet ANOTHER letter! They're speeding up, somehow, as if this idea is either getting more popular with time, or some folks just waited to submit them? I don't know, this is beyond me, as to how exactly this came about! As amusing as it is, I may have to BURN this letter later, though. Bloody bards ...

    Another letter is pressed between pages:

    Inquisitor Cecil!

    I heard you are looking for assistance. In matters concerning the arcane, I of course work for the Ceurleans. However, for other matters, I'd like you to know that I'm available to help. I consider you a good friend, especially after you took me into the Mermaid Inn room to show me your lance and let me work my magic on it. I know, after that night, that you treat your matters with long, hard thought, mindful of the stiff competition and swelling gravity.

    Things got a bit heated, of course, when we both felt the tingle of your lance, capable as it is to throb hearts and race minds. The mere sight of it weakened my knees. I digress, but only because my adoration of your lance and our time together with it informs my motivation to let you know that I, Nate Wingates, am here for you, Cecil Northman.

    Should you ever require any such assistance, or any assistance at all, please remember your good friend Nate and our fun times together in that inn room.

    Your good friend,

    Nate.

    I've of half a mind to find the EXACT person who started this all ... and make it so this stops, if it gets any worse than ... than ... THIS NONSENSE! By the Lion's whiskers, I don't want -this- kind of talk floating about. It's bad enough that some of those women look at me as if they think Ashena a myth. Let Wingates keep up his theatrics, and they'll start a brand new rumor about why I don't chase the skirts of any of these women with their eyes and comments and casual touches and fluttering eyelashes.

    I wonder, though ... with that list of "no-go" people I started on, perhaps I SHOULD consider these letters, and go pay one of the messenger-men with their pigeons, for an "Adventurer Short-List." I KNOW Borodin heard about this, but her usual frosty silence has prevailed, naturally. Therefore, I'm sure the same rule applies as before. Do what I need or want to get the job done, with respect of the law all the while. Got it. I'll have to think on how I want to do this...

    Dammit.


  • Since when am I so popular?

    This gets more like people are taking it seriously, and I must admit, Caling does pen a fine application. If only I was actually ... what the hell would the word be? Hiring? Recruiting? Probably that ...

    Another letter is pressed between pages.

    Cecil,

    The word is that you're interested in reliable sidekicks and associates. Since Shannon is apparently too busy to consider me as his Inquisitor right now, I'd tender myself.

    I am reasonably skillful at many things, including mechanition, trapwork, magical investigation and library research. I have travelled widely in the realms, accruing knowledge and occasionally interesting items.
    I have a sharp mind and a sharp tongue if needed. I can be loud, or quiet, and it is rare that I have need of corpse recovery, these days. Whilst I excel at fighting the living, when adequately distracted, I also posssess some limited healing and smiting skills as would be expected of a paladin.

    Most of all, you are competent and stable without being self-important. That is a rare trait, and even if the official sidekick position falls to another - You are worthy of inspiration and accompaniment.

    Safe travels, and you know where to find me, if you want to,

    Caling Rydrion
    c/o Bardic College, Peltarch

    Now how many more of these are going to come out of the woodwork? I'm not sure if I'm pleased or paranoid that my name is in so many mouths lately, while I'm busy burying myself in old caselaw and trying to pursue my own research on the planes, and the travel between them.

    Between the S.T.E.E. and the Lance, I keep getting myself into these planar messes, and then when Filifred's about, the planar messes come to US. I either need to catch up, or give up, and the latter's not an option. So, back to the books. I'll have to find Caling and explain to her later, and then track down Borodin to make sure she knows that if this gets any -more- traction, I'll be buried in letters, and would like an answer from above me for some of these questions. Even IF Borodin did approve an ... assistant of some kind, I'm not sure if Caling, despite her qualifications, would do. What she told me still flickers across my memory every time I look at her. I wonder if she's made any progress ... for good OR ill.

    Argh.


  • This page, did NOT make it into Cecil's journal, but his writings about it did, and he copied it over to keep the record. Even then, there are a few stray specks of glitter on the new page, despite his best efforts to eradicate the menace...

    DAMN the stuff! I've stuffed this letter into it's own bag, which I will burn at a later time, but for my records, and I guess SOME degree of amusement, I've copied down the LATEST letter I've received. Next thing you know I'll be getting fan mail, like some kind of storied bard!

    Application of side kick
    Name: Carol Nightingale!
    Occupation: Entertainer
    Why me?: I'm great at keeping back! I'm really good at healing, both magical and mundane! I can also enhance weapons and cast protections. Oooo and I can turn people invisible!
    Why did I apply?: I thought it'd be fun!
    How often have I died?: Who's counting! Not me!

    There are little drawings in the margins of the page and the page is covered in glitter of course. Because of course there were. I can only hope that the fire looks sparkly too when I put this stuff where it belongs. Diadne and I were discussing these exact letters when I last pulled it out, and she burned the small pile of glitter at my feet, thankfully.

    As much as I love having bards around in a fight, since nothing short of letting loose my rage gets the blood pumping as well as a good bard song ... she dies entirely too much to trust as a proper sidekick, and besides, I think I'd spend just as much time trying to keep her reigned in as I would making use of her sidekick skills. Gonna have to say "no" to this one, shame as it is to say so.

    As I wrote above, I can't help but be curious, and slightly concerned with this thought ... What next?"


  • I got another letter today!

    This one was ... not from Ashena.

    Aparently, there is some talk of me when I am not present, which I suppose is a bit of a compliment, since this letter didn't contain scorpions or anything else unpleasant, nor unpleasant words within. Still ... what the hell? To say I'm confused would be a bit of an understatement, but perhaps I WILL talk to the Magistrate. Heavens know Shannon isn't about to pick an Inquisitor any time soon. What if there becomes more than one inquisitor's worth of work? We may not HAVE two inquisitors, and although I've no lack of skill or reputation to attract and recruit adventurers ... some of them are as smart as I am magical.

    Which is NOT AT ALL

    I'll just put the letter between these pages for now ... then go see if I can find some people to talk to to figure out how this even came UP. At least the person who sent it WOULD make a good sidek-err ... assistant? Squire? Whatever. Time to go bend some ears.

    Dear Cecil,

    I am Diadne of Kossuth, Keeper of the Sacred Flame. We have traveled together on several occasions, and I have offered service and support to your travels and quests. I hope you’ve come to know me as a reliable person of good character.

    I had recently inquired of a position with the Cerulean Knights through Nathan Wingates. I was looking for a way to serve the city in some capacity, and I thought the Ceruleans would be the best fit. However, membership of the Cerulean Knights requires the wearing of a uniform. Because my faith is a symbol of who I am and represent, I will not wear one. I will not make an exception in this regard.

    This morning, I was standing in the commons and I overheard a conversation. Someone lightheartedly mentioned that “Cecil should get a sidekick”. We all laughed, and amusing candidates were mentioned and snide comments bantered about, but when I went back to my room I thought to myself, “Why not?”

    So, Cecil of the Black Lion, with Lady Borodin’s permission I offer myself as an assistant to the inquisitor. Sidekick if it amuses you. I offer a magical weapon to complement your edged. Should quarry become elusive I can set him ablaze. Should your quarry magically protect himself I can strip his defenses. And should your quarry turn invisible and run, I can grant you haste, and the ability to see heat in objects that pierces the veil of invisibility.

    I also offer to relieve you of the drudgery of routine paperwork. Depending on your nature that may very well be the most valuable service I offer.

    Regards,

    Diadne


  • A letter arrived for me today, bearing the telltale seal of House Teroldys. The vellum is cream-coloured and expensive, and the neat and tidy hand instantly recognizable as Ashena's. I quickly broke the seal, and read. I've put it between these pages to keep.

    "My dearly beloved! It has been too long since my last letter, and I wouldst not have your brow furrowed o'er fears of my well-being. Rest assured, I ~am~ well, if weary and frustrated at the troubles in the Vast seeming ne'er quite vanquished. The bandits I told you of were but the tip of the iceberg, t'wouldst seeem - they are more organized than suspected, and I fear have aims greater than mere robbery. While I leave the game of thrones to Aymon to play, the politics of my home is something I cannot ignore as a factor here. Whoever is backing these miscreants - and someone assuredly is - I cannot leave our people unprotected here. No more can you leave our people unprotected there, for truly both the Vast and Narfell, I consider our home."

    "It warms my heart to know you are doing the things I cannot, for Narfell's innocent souls. Ne'er is such work truly done, but sometimes, one must stop and reflect on the good things that have been achieved. Look not always to the next threat, and the next, 'til trouble is all that you see, my Lion! Look at what you have accomplished and allow yourself a moment of pride - the same pride I take in all the things that you do. Ever yours, ~Ashena"

    I've read it perhaps a dozen times. Maybe more. I've kept it in a sealed pouch, safe from water, weather, and blood, whether mine or another's, so that I can continue to read it, and once more feel how I do now, especially when I need it most. I will continue m work, and whether I win or lose, press on or fall back, I WILL know these words, at least, through it all.

    I rather suspect Narfell's letter delivery to be about as reliable as everything else, so I wonder how many of our letters back and forth never made it to one another? Thankfully, it matters not. We know where each other are, we still clearly stand where we did the last time we were close enough to touch one another, and as ever, she says the things that banish the darkness and fear from my heart without even trying. Ashena, you do not know, nor might you ever, how much I needed this, just now. Thank you. Always. Now, it's time to gather some worthy folks, and quit my whimpering. There's glory, honor, and strength to be had out there, and damnit, I intend to GET IT.

    I will always keep your name on my lips, Ashena. Right beside the Lion's.

    Always.


  • The blood fountained to the side, as the shoulder was severed completely, with not a string of solid tissue holding the former limb to it's previous possessor. It was now a piece of meat, falling to the floor as if dropped by a careless child. A crimson spray arced toward the ceiling of the cavern like a redheaded bard tossing her hair mid-dance, and I continued my own dance. The limb was still cartwheeling through the air like a thrown axe when my formerly upward swinging sword came down on the other side of me, which WAS behind me but a moment ago, until that swing carried through the prior creature's arm, and was now crashing down upon the head of a smaller creature, who was still screaming in dismay that his sword had been turned aside on my seemingly unprotected back. His halves fell quietly to the sides of where he had been standing with a stomach-unsettling wet splat, not unlike tossing soggy clothing to the floor with some force.

    This, and a hundred other moments just like it.

    Sensations sometimes joined the images. Blood hitting my face. Weapons bouncing off of my armor, or striking home to hit flesh, but distantly felt ... as if I was not truly there, or simply too involved in the carnage to care.

    A circle formed, corpses piling up to the point where new foes had to clamber over the ring around me, hip high on ME which was head-high on a smaller goblin already. Yes, climb the mountain, to face the other mountain, little savage. Thoughts like that skipped across my mind, stones on a pond, leaving smallish ripples of awareness that they were there, before they sank beneath the surface, and I returned my attention to the task at hand.

    The circle grew. The wall climbed ever upward. Redness surrounded me, broken only by flashes of white bone, or purple organs, sometimes the color of armor or metal peeked though, but even then ... covered in red.

    Light grew dim as the circle grew above my head. Somehow, the foes that fell or leaped or were pushed into the hole were ground into the walls with my constantly moving feet as I swung, seeming to magically grow the wall. I was in a well. It's grisly brickwork was corpses, and I was the welldigger, but without a ladder to see me safely out.

    The flow ... did not stop. I'm sure I was injured, but I couldn't feel it, wouldn't feel it, but I DID feel the air grow thick, and coppery, before it grew stale, as if I was deep into a cave that hadn't seen a fresh breeze in a generation.

    Eventually ... the foes quit coming. They had a fall before them to reach me, I realized. I knew where to strike by the sound of the scream coming nearer. How much time had passed since the battle had shifted in such a fashion? How thick was the "wall" now? Could I climb corpses? The questions started to show up, and the walls seemed closer all of a sudden. More solid. More real. Were they not real before?

    The dull tickle of panic at the back of my mind made it's presence known, just barely, and it was enough to break me fully out of my bloodlust fueled rage, and really SEE, what was around me. It was still, of course, corpses ... but these ones had faces, now. Sure, this one was a goblin, this one a bugbear, that one a Kobold, the other a medusa, snakes hanging limply, staring blankly back at me with reptilian indifference.

    Those faces didn't scare me. The others did. Lady Varya was one, the daughter of Anna, who I had just dueled. Half the face was missing, but recognizable all the same. That flash of bard-red hair? It belonged to Isolde. Was it her I briefly remembered? A dark patch was Vick, his accusing stare wider open than some of the rest, and he was pressed between lizardmen, irony doing nothing to dull the crimson stain that took him from ear to opposite shoulder. Roslyn was here, and also there, the two halves of her recognizable outfit a few feet from each other in the macabre brickwork of the well, and situated just below lady Kathea, whose face was frozen in expression that was somehow ... unsurprised. Disappointed, and unsurprised. I had JUST, to my growing horror, recognized a face near armor of blue and gold, please not Ashena ... anyone but Ashena...

    The other recognizable faces blurred, as I scrubbed at my eyes to make the illusion fade, but it did not. It only got clearer. To get free ... I would have to cut through that wall. COULD I? Did I do that to the people I called friends? Why? Where was I, anyway? I knew none of that, I only knew, that I had to ... had to ... Gods, I didn't even know what that burning NEED that I felt WAS. Only that I was alone, and HAD to reach that goal, no matter the cost, but I couldn't figure it out, it was always on the tip of my paper dry tongue, trapped between torn lips, trapped between clenching teeth mere moments before ... or was it days?

    I felt it, then. That feeling like my teeth were vibrating, and made of granite. Wild Magic. Then all was dark, and I...

    I woke, possibly screaming, sword in hand, and buried in the tree next to me. Thank the Lion I wasn't sleeping at the inn this time ... I haven't had a nightmare like this in a long time. I ... I have to find a way to keep busy. Too busy to dream, once sleep finds me. I don't want to see that again. I can't help but wonder WHY ... but part of doesn't even want to know.

    Not even a little bit.


  • Enough

    Getting my thoughts together has been a pain in the tail, lately. The Lion knows my struggle, currently, and I do too, to a degree. I haven't felt this very much since ... well, since the days of the Bugbear Sack of Norwick. That was one of the last times I fell, and I can barely remember it, save for this pervasive feeling of being "Less".

    So much has happened since then, that I can barely even remember feeling "less" in ANY way. I've grown, gotten better gear, got a better job, and started living someplace that more stuff actually HAPPENS. It's been ... kind of fulfilling, actually. I wonder if Ashena would be proud, impressed even, with who I've become since she went home. I hope she is well, and successful, and that her family is proud of her efforts, there.

    I felt her absence most keenly, on a trip that I've just now felt like I could finally write about. I don't know if her being there would have helped, or not ... but I miss those days, and I miss her strength at my side. Yes, I'm finally going to talk about that damnable trip where I fell.

    It started like so many other adventures. People wanting to go do something, do some good. The talk of demons came up, I explained to Raryldor that he was wrong, and that Jiyyd still had PLENTY of demons, but that you just had to go FIND them, holed up below the town's ruins, and off we went to go see if I was right, despite the fact that I knew very well that I was.

    We brought many people, and as always, I warned people over and over, and many different junctions in the trip, that even though we had "Won" in Jiyyd, THINGS lingered still. The threat is still real, and they needed to be wary. Most took me seriously. Others assured me they'd be fine, or said nothing, despite having NO idea what they were walking in to. My words had no effect on those, big surprise, so away we went.

    Things went crazy almost immediately. Larger demons such a Vrocks assaulted us from the get go, summoning their succubi, and were joined by a Hezrou, if I'm not mistaken. It. Was. Chaos. It was chaos that was ... remarkably short lived, however. Magics flew, swords swung, and I roared the name of the Lion and charged forth, to find squishy spots in demonflesh to exploit, and destroy them as they tried to get past me to more vulnerable people. We slew dozens of various demons, there, on the surface, and feeling confident in our performance ... we moved to the well.

    As we descended, spells were renewed, given out, and spoken about, so that people knew at what strength we were moving forward, but we faced an obstacle that most were unfamiliar with. A magic door, that someone used ray of frost on, once, near me, and I remembered it as the key. Past it, however, were powerful undead, brought about by an image of a demon, who had manifested twice by then (Which I forgot to mention), warning us off, saying that the territory there was his.

    The issue with this door, you see ... is that once the spell is cast, and it opens ... it closes shortly after. You have to get in, get through, and get everyone else through too. We could hear undead and demons behind it though ... so it had to be ME going through first, to try to clear a path, and attract attention away from it ... so I did. And it ... KIND OF worked.

    I charged in, was swarmed, some others fought IN the doorway behind me, and we shoved back into the entryway when the door closed itself. I was along, and surrounded ... and WINNING. I learned better, how to defend myself these past few years, and if I concentrated on WAITING (Damn the waiting to the hells, but it's necessary) for the perfect opening, I could focus on not getting hit until they farked up and left themselves open. I very much improved my own expertise in my fighting style since I first learned to be less of a smasher, and more of a proper swordsman, and it saved my bacon while I awaited my reinforcements.

    They came, of course, eventually, and spells flew in to sizzle demonhides, Raryldor charged in, magicked to the teeth and shouting challenge to the demons, and mockery to their efforts, which I must admit, was kind of well founded. With flashes of summoning magic, I assume, more demons appeared in a steady stream, first retrievers, then Hezrou, and of course, plenty of Vrocks throughout the whole thing. And Each. One. Perished. I found my rhythm, I was spelled up enough to resist the mind-tricks of the succubi, and we were progressing steadily through the cave.

    The demon leader, his tone condescending, appeared again. It mocked Raryldor back, insulting his God and insulting his devotion to the God, whose name was so seldom invoked, and warned us off again. It was met with more insults and provocation from Raryldor, whose spells and sword were still going strong, but I think it was starting to run low, as he urged on on, away from the projection of the demon, and some of us went. Others ... stayed to talk with the projection. I went ahead, to hold the front, and cut down the numbers that I could hear coming, before they could get to the back line while they chatted ... and was surrounded by more than ever before.

    For a few moments ... it was glorious. Vrocks surrounded me. My ring kept their diseases at bay, my blade kept their claws away, and my own roar of defiance scattered them as their companions fell. Some got by me, but I heard them get engaged, and had a much bigger group to be concerned with anyway. Those succubi were flinging their mind-fogging influences my way, nearly a dozen of them, but my mind protection spells were protecting me, allowing me to keep cutting the Vrocks down like goblins ...

    Until they weren't.

    The spell faded unexpectedly, and before I could drink a clarity potion, or a protection from negative energy, or ANYTHING ... my mind went fuzzy, and I found myself standing there. I barely had the presence of mind to walk away from danger, back to the group, one painstaking step at a time ... and then the next spell hit. I was drained, and that ... weakened me for the next. And the one after. And the one after that. Dammit all, but the Vrocks swarmed past me to the group, seeing me sag under the weight of my own armor, as if I was no longer a concern. Frankly, I wasn't.

    Each drain hit me harder than the last, and finally, everything dimmed, my hearing went dull and fuzzy, I heard a ringing, and could only see the stone floor and clawed feet walking over me, on me, and past.

    The unthinkable had happened. DOZENS of demons slain. Dozens of greater ones, Vrocks and Hezrous and Retrievers and more ... and I fell to succubi. Hundreds of smaller demons were scattered like leaves before a great wind, fallen to the strength of the Lion ... and I was lying on the ground like a puppet with it's strings cut, listening to Raryldor taunt's to the demon, turn to cries of "RUN! RETREAT!" at my fall.

    I failed, and even as I slid into darkness, I tried to call out to the Lion ... and my cries were lost in the dark, Unheard.

    I remember the white sand and pillars. I remember awaiting mocking, and offers, in the "between place", but I don't remember any coming for me. Perhaps they knew better.

    It's been months, since, but I have not been able to recover, retrain, regain my strength. I seek out challenges to push myself to recovery, but there's two issues. One, not many challenges exist where not only can I learn, but others can survive at the same time, and two ... the list of people I can trust to hold themselves, and others, together, grows slim.

    I even gave Filifred another chance. The desert and dragon teleport incident DID end up going better than expected, and we DID get home ... but we took some folks to the Worg Woods, and past, only to find some outsider summons, and their summoner, a hag. She offered to teach Filifred how to summon more things, we couldn't talk him out of it, it OF COURSE went tits up, and someone died. A black hearted new guy, who The High Priest wouldn't raise, and once again he's on "The List."

    As successful as Raryldor was at first, I think that demon threw as much as he did at us, as quickly as he did, due to Raryldor's taunts. His boasts about his power. I'd rather be underestimated, and live, after all ... and as much as "most" of us survived the hag trip, Filifred is almost as bad as Rust-boy, in making fool decisions. All three, onto the list you go!

    I need to get my strength back, I need to hand-pick an adventuring crew, and start enforcing the "if I don't know you, you don't come somewhere deadly" rule, and I need to start putting the fear into fools who would endanger others carelessly. I've had enough.


  • On Dwarves

    Another day, another delve into someplace I probably should not be. It started innocently enough. Kethro, seeming hell bent on going adventuring, was quick to jump upon my arrival into the commons as a sure sign that I would join everyone on an adventure ... somewhere. The plan didn't seem concrete, so my enthusiasm was perhaps a bit lacking, so I kept everyone waiting a minute while I organized my supplies and listened in to see exactly what I might be getting myself into THIS time.

    After a while, it seemed like he truly just wanted to be out, looking for threats, and exploring, widening his knowledge of the area, so ... seeing nothing wrong with that, I signed up, and off we went. I'll have to remember her name, but a Sharran priestess was with us, and was polite enough to ask if anybody was unwilling to have the blessings of her Dark Goddess, which was ... remarkably polite for a follower of the likes of Shar. Credit where credit is due, I suppose.

    A lady I've not met before, Syltria, was there too, and it's her I have to thank for most of the blessings I had in the fights to come. I'll keep an eye out for her in future trips, as she has a good head on her, and seems to be a thoughtful, careful type. Can't have too many of those. Also of note was Bronn, who joined me at the front to great effect. Kethro was up front a lot too, in a half-scout, half-stab-a-lot sort of role, but he ended up getting beat up a bit much several times. I think he could benefit on letting others get the enemy's attention thoroughly before jumping in, in the future.

    Speaking of Kethro, he was leading, which I also said out loud several times, but he asked my opinion a few times, and then basically deferred to me leading for most of the trip, partially because I knew the areas we were in (At first), and partially because ... I don't know why. Because it always happens? I hope that nobody thinks I 'take over' uninvited. It literally just seems to -happen-. Anyway, I'm rambling. Onto the details I want to remember!

    We went to the Windy Plains, where the first unusual thing we encountered was ... me? But not me. Someone asked me if I had a doppelganger, to which I said not to my knowledge, and they pointed up. Sure enough, in armor and coloring JUST like mine, was a large feminine figure atop a ridge, who mimicked my words and then responded to us, before flying away without further incident. Like, leaped into the air and poof, gone.

    We kept an eye out for her later, but saw no other sign, so onward we went, into the ruined tower on the hill that led to the Undercaves beneath Jiyyd. I warned everyone that demon stragglers would still be there, and sure enough, plenty of them came swooping in. They were quickly and easily dispatched, Kethro and Bronn usually taking one of two out before I even got to engage, which was ... refreshing. Things went on like that, nice and normal, even past that silly magic door, til we found something new.

    A Bebilith. Bronn and I saw it, he passed me a potion wordlessly, which I drank gratefully, and we charged in and started chopping! It took special interest in me, but that's how I like it. I didn't even put my guard up especially well, instead I focused on making the most of that potion that Bronn gave me, starting the fight with a ROAR worthy of the Lion, and I felt his power come as it always does, filling me with strength, and courage, and power!

    The claws raked across my armor, glanced off my helm, clanged against my sword, and battered at me as if they could start picking me apart, so many legs flickering in and out of sight that it was hard to keep track of ... so I didn't. I focused on that mandibled face, the crushing jaws, hairy and horrifying, and the too many sets of eyes, all fixed on me. Yeah, this is one snack that isn't going to go down easy, buddy. The smell of singed demon hairs from it's fuzzy, spikey, carapace wafted about the cavern, joined by the acrid stench of its blood as the fight swiftly went south for it, and with a screech, its legs buckled, Bronn and I giving it a final wet and crunchy smack as it stood no more, leaking it's nastiness across the cave floor.

    There was once more no sign of magic detected by Syltria or others, so I'm chalking up as just another straggler, which to me, is great news. Their numbers are finite, and if I have to fight them every day, I will, if it means that they'll soon not be able to put up a fight with their lessened numbers, and be gone from this land all the sooner.

    We pressed on, then, up the well and back to the surface, moving to what I was told was an abandoned Dwarf temple, and headed in. It was a depressing scene, the temple ruined, old skeletons of dwarves out front, and delving deep showed why. Corrupted dwarves, in the far back reaches, maddened and senseless were inside, much to the disappointment of Bronn. We captured one, in hopes of learning more about this duergar thing, but as they were NOT duergar, I turned it loose as we left. It was unresponsive before I knocked it out, anyway. They may be totally mad ...

    The trip was successful, and we had no casualties ... hardly any injuries for that matter. Starla didn't even use all of her fireballs, as she kept a running tally for us the whole time, heh. She sure loves them. Perhaps next time I'll lead a trip, on purpose ... I just can't shake the memory of the last one I led, to the Keep of the Fallen, that almost went SO horribly...

    We'll see. By the Lion, I won't quit just because of that, but I DO need to keep people safe, and myself alive. I still expect the Creel to arrive any day now, and knowing our luck, it'll be at the same time as the Duergar show up in force.

    Time will tell.


  • Progress, and what's next

    It's been a couple weeks since I wrote, but for once, it's because not much has happened to me. Or around me, for that matter. Sure, there's been some adventures, some fighting monsters, and that kind of thing ... but nothing profound. I did explore that gift from the Wanderer though, and dove into research about enchanting lately.

    Scott is way ahead of me in this realm of research, or just has a very clear idea of what he wants, and pays others to do all the research ... but my own findings have been useful, and the journey, fulfilling!

    At first, a conversation was had with Karrick about dragonhide, but after separating texts about materials and how they can be used, I realized that if I wanted to use dragonhide to get the kind of protection that my ring offers, I'd need to have ARMOR of it, not just a belt. Seeing as how that won't really for out for me, I scrapped the idea in favor of protective bracers.

    With all the ogres and giants with their clubs I face, I've been noticing that the slight weakness to blunt attacks on me are a pretty nasty weak point, so the enchantments on the gloves are all meant to help me face such foes. My gauntlets of ogre power have a blessing to aid my strength, so I made sure to focus on that, first. Next, a resistance to being bludgeoned is weaved into them too, which compliments the gloves themselves. They're double-banded, and have a nice high cuff on them, which locks tight to make a bracer-like support. No blow is going to be strong enough to make me drop my weapon easily, now.

    Knowing what I wanted was one thing ... but how to get it done? Well, the Wandering God told us to focus on the item we wanted enchanted, and use the token of thanks he gave us ... so that's exactly what I did. I focused on these traits, laid the gloves over one another, said a prayer to that God for guidance, and pressed the little token to the gloves. With a flash of light, it disappeared, and the gloves took on a stonelike sheen to their leather, now firm and protective.

    Perhaps I'll hire a mage, soon. I have been saving Jasmals to enhance a weapon with, and Black Onyx, to make an item to help absorb negative energy rather than letting it harm me directly. Hopefully someone can design something that absorbs it without KEEPING it, cause I have no use for some kind of wearable well of negative energy. Sounds like a good way to attract the wrong kind of attention.

    Anyhow, I should probably go continue stocking up my potion supply. I'm going to end up in a group with someone like Erurk again, I'm certain, and they're inevitably going to be walking around without supplies. Perhaps I'll happen across some more enchanting materials!


  • The Wandering God

    As we left, battered and weary from what I now know was known as The Astral Link, the figure I now know to be Shaundakul approached me. His robes blew in a nonexistent wind, and his gaze went right through me, and without preamble, he told me a story. It seemed like he'd been holding onto it for some time, and that the time for it to reach the ears of another, had finally come.

    The God spoke. "Friedrich Dela Rosa was a human knight-errant from Cormanthor that caught my attention three centuries ago. He used to make long treks only for the sake of traveling and discovering. Wandering east and west, roaming in plain roads or harsh highways, but always watching for the safety of the caravans. In one of his longest treks through the forest I appeared to him. He was baffled, obviously, and took me for someone else. But it didn’t take me too long to convince him who I really was. I went straight to the point and told him I might had a task for him that would forge his character. Friedrich wasn’t likely to object to such a quest coming from me, so he agreed to undertake it."

    "It was a rather simple task for him and his capabilities. He needed to explore a specific high mountain -- one you are now familiar with -- to find ‘something’ I eventually didn’t tell because, you know, where’s the thrill on telling all the details? As much as I hate riddles, sometimes they are entertaining. You can imagine the thing that was to discover as the request came from me. So then, no time to be wasted, he packed up all his care and woe, took his mount, his knightly lance, and wander off as a truly knight-errant. "

    "He left behind the Rimwood, the Midwood, and the Starwood. He explored the Earthwood and even climbed the Galena Mountains, all of which took their brutal toll on both his courage, and his strength. Despite that, he kept his battered head high, and willed his increasingly beaten body onward, despite the foes before him. You know giants and their ilk are not something you deal with in a friendly manner, and he was no stranger to this by now, either."

    "Overcoming the giants, never giving up in this long trek, he still wandered East, looking for this highest of peaks. Singing low, he closed in gradually to the Giantspire mountains, and entered their range, until the majestic and eldest mountain stood before him. The long road and cruel dangers were something he should overcome. You certainly can make up an idea of what he had to face centuries ago in this land of demon’s demeanor. However, Friedrich was a stubborn... and nothing, absolutely nothing like demons, giants and bandits, would stand in his way to achieve glory. Glory? I ask myself why he thought he would have found glory. Human hearts never cease to amaze me in their endless search to attain futile and illusory goals."

    The God kept to his tale, while I listened, as the others rested and recuperated after our flight from the pit fiend that also slew me, but his twisting, rambling tale started to worry me, as his goals, and Friedrich's goals, didn't seem one and the same, so soon in it.

    "Alone, he reached the peak, and dared to explore this cavern. I appeared to him once more and warned about the dangers inside, about what he was actually to find this time, and no jokes were present any longer. Instead, the truth: A planar gate, a vortex of astral links between hells and heavens. An ongoing battle of the Bateezu and the Celestials to gain dominion of such a place. When he heard this... his will almost abandoned him. He had doubts, many doubts about how a simple human, a knight-errant, could interfere and do something significant in this battle between good and evil. To do something, already without provisions, without equipment, even running low on sheer strength of will. To do something with only his mere lance, that had served him to climb to the top of the mountain after losing even his mount and most of his gear due to the harsh weather and enemies that he faced."

    "I told him not to worry too much about that, but not to case aside all concern...since things could escalate quickly if he wouldn’t take part in the task I had set. I assured him that I would watch over him, and blessed his lance. A lance he used now as one might a greatsword, much to my delight, admittedly. The lance... was to contain all the bliss and woe both planes represent to work as an intermediary. Charged with both different types of energies to be effective, and to never fall in one or another category. And so, with such a tool in hand, he walked forward to battle and seize the place from the Bateezu along with the Celestials."

    "The matter was settled, the task accepted, but there was still work to be done, as the portal was not to be closed... but to be kept. And to be kept by who else but him? I made Friedrich Dela Rosa one of my few Champions. He carried the key, the weapon used to settle the affair. He was to watch over this specific link of antagonistic planes. He’d held the link itself that let him teleport at will. As a mere human, however ... some traits from his past can’t never be changed. As a knight-errant, he started to wander between planes. He became a planeswalker and I allowed it."

    "Perhaps it was loneliness at the end, that pervaded his feelings. As every woeful human, he strove from the road and started to frequent the company of devils more often than their adversaries. The devils, the Erinyes specifically, persuaded him easily, as they are wont to do with their various tactics, skills, and arts ... and in no time he was about to favor more one side than another. That was when I had to step on and destroy the lance that I had once so joyfully granted."

    "Stricken, seeming lost, he stood there for months, with the splinters scattered, at the foot of my Shrine. He thought I abandoned him, but that was never the truth. In fact, a part of those feelings were transferred to the lance during Friedrich’s decay. He chose to believe that, it overcame him, and so he let himself die. "

    "Time elapsed, and as his own self was likely to be two now as a planeswalker in the Material and the Astral plane, where a body once lay, a ghost now stood. The devils, interfering as they are known to do, spirited him back to the place he once watched over, and you have an idea of what happened next. Humans seduced by devils are always to be fools. And I’m glad now I can take care of the soul of this fool, Cecil. "

    The God looked about to say more, but my companions stirred, and some seemed to be speaking to him elsewhere, and I very much felt like perhaps I was not the only person being spoken to at the moment, somehow ... but I suppose it can be like that, when chatting about past mistakes with literal, actual, Gods. Overwhelmed, I nodded, and did my best to remember his words, so I've put them down on paper so that I may not forget, and will be able to share them. I admit, on these pages, that I truly don't know what to think of this God, or his actions. I do know this, though. This story, is not over. The convergence of planes is REAL, it's still present, we kicked up a HELL of a fuss on our way out, and now I walk about with the key to a power that no mortal should have (Clearly!), that still works despite it's shattering ... and I even bear the pieces to repair it, if such a thing is possible. For now, I guess I'm simply happy that I was able to bring the soul out of that place.

    It appears I'm going to have to make a decision soon, one way or another. I suppose I'll share this with my friends for now, though I know what some of them will say already. (Like Nate ... he'll just go on with the lance jokes, for example. Goodness, my reputation...) For some reason, I have a deeply unsettled feeling about what the God may have to say next.

    May the Lion preserve me, and bolster me. The affairs of Gods are above my mortal head.


  • Shattered

    Today was as good a day as any. I sent out a notice for magic users to aid me in finding the other half of the lance. Surely, the best way to find out more about it, was to find the rest of it, so out went the call. Juggs answered, as Lady Kathea had, but he was around next time I showed up, so off to scry we went.

    A component, some blessed water, and my helmet ... and there we were, staring into the surface of the water to see an image, (praise to the Mother of Dwarves, of course), which showed us a windswept area, with four pillars that had holes carved or worn into them, probably producing some kind of noise as the wind blew through them.

    At the foot of the shrine, slumped in death, was a body, or what remains of a body after what looks like 100 years, given the state of the armor. Armor which bore the sigil of Shaundakul, God of the winds. I should tell Willow! The body, slumped against the shrine, had a hole in the armor's remains, from which protruded splinters, and the other end of my Lance. Somebody, it seems, had killed the Shaundakulian Knight with it, and now he was somewhere "Far to the west" atop a mountain, with my answer buried in him, or at least ... the next question.

    As we pondered this, the lance shivered, and started to move. I grabbed on, and then Juggs and I, and Caling too, were -Taken-. We vanished, and ended up on what Juggs identified as another plane ... but not one he knew anything about or recognized. We were stuck, or so it seemed, with nothing in any direction of note, until my hand moved, and some light shone at the edge of the lance. Even with the emotions swirling through me, loss and victory, abandonment and the bliss of belonging, that was enough of a signal, and I went through a series of warmup fighting routines with it, making it glow brighter, until we were falling ...

    Yes, falling. From the sky. Above where we were, just west of the gate ... We landed on the dias where we were performing the ritual, and poor Juggs landed on his face, leaving a massive dwarfcrater, while I was more fortunate to land on my feet and merely leave shattered stone footprints and sore feet behind ... and then there was Caling. Who I caught. Must have been quite the sight, except nobody was there to see it.

    Apparently, when we vanished, our friends rushed off to scry us themselves, and came back at hearing the earthshattering crash of us returning to the Prime. I have NO idea what that was all about, but I'm happy that I have Roderick's Planar Orientation Gear, in case this bloody quest of mine strands me on some other plane.

    Speaking to Jonothan warned me of the same. Shaundakul has always been a "Free spirit" of sorts, and fond of travel, even planar, for he and his followers, so I might be getting myself into more than I was originally bargaining for. Perhaps Roderick and I were put together for a reason, all that time ago. It's like the Gods ... oh! Speaking of Gods ...

    In that plane, the first thing that happened, was that we all felt a pressure on our minds, like something was trying to get IN. I don't know what, or who, and we all appeared to resist the effects, somehow, so it brings to mind ... I wonder what kind of attention I've ended up with due to this. And ... what kind is to come. It reminds me too much of those stories of destinies for me to be comfortable ... so why do I feel kind of excited?

    I guess anything beats playing guard to some of the shenanigans in town lately. People need to go have a drink and quit the bullshit. It's getting far past old, and well into "Petty and childish" realms. Now to get this dent out of my armor ... damned Garagosian.


  • Flayed

    It started out innocent enough. And it started with Aniril. Little baiting comments, low stuff really, with the whole "Seeking of people with grey moral codes" to go to the crypts with him for scrolls. Now, of course it could have just meant beating up the active undead for their stuff, and not active graverobbing ... but people seem to enjoy poking at me lately, to see how far I'll take my 'job' to go out of my way to bother them.

    The elf Tirreth and his damned cat were a good example of that. If he'd just not sassed Yana, it wouldn't have been an issue, either.

    Anyway, as he collected volunteers with very little positive response, he had just enough people that I didn't recognize, or already knew would be in trouble in the sewers, so I said I'd go too, once he 'lowered his standards' to include the likes of me, heh. Personally, I just didn't want to wander down there later and drag out bodies.

    Things went ... well. For a while, no less. We whacked on wights, complete with punnery reminding me of my dear Ashena, smacked down skeletons, and cut down cultists, with a bard singing away at our backs. Sure, I took a big fat ZAP from Aniril when intercepting several of their priests that came charging down on us, but at least it was me and not someone it would have killed outright...

    People took direction well, as I sort of took over Aniril's little trip, and down into the hole, to the crypts, we went. The warning was that I wouldn't be standing back any more, but if I got 'held' by those awful priests ... that they'd have to defend themselves, and get held I did. Several times.

    Juggs, the fat Dwarf, follower of the "mother" Berronar Truesilver, or something like that, may she be praised, artisan of the masterworked sandwich, and a damned treat to be around, saved my bacon several times in that trip, especially after things took a turn ... like when we encountered a small ARMY of zombies, luckily the kind that I can usually take down with a single swing, but I had to keep swinging to take down the fifty to a hundred at a time, to keep them off our back line.

    This led to us finding a mage down there, a woman who called herself "Gray", who said she was also investigating the cause for these little armies of dead popping up, as she said that their particular method of animation was neither arcane, NOR Divine ... but something OTHER. We didn't really trust her much, but with no direct evidence of treachery, I wasn't about to attack a possible citizen or ally. So on we went, deeper into the crypts, despite complaints of being out of spells, or diseased, or drained, which admittedly, Gray helped us with some potions for, and on we went.

    Cue more zombie army action. I think we faced three gigantic groups of them over the course of our trip, which I almost enjoy fighting, since you can find a rhythm with your enemies being destroyed in a strike, especially with a bard like Tom in the background, providing pacing and a beat to ... well, beat down baddies to.

    We wandered into a room, with a seemingly innocent lit brazier, that turned into three, that spawned shadows, that led to a fight, which created doors once the braziers were kicked over, which led to a trap, which turned out to be getting caught by a Mind Flayer, something i've never encoutnered before, that had apparently been sampling our minds, and we were in it's trap ... but Gray was there to shield our minds long enough to cause a distraction, in this case, Aniril's rapier, which gave us a moment.

    I used that moment to pop up, and knock that squidfaced bastard tentacles over teakettle, and we cut it down immediately after that. Thankfully, they're physically weak, or that would have went badly. We collected the belongings of some old victims apparently, and made our way back to the surface, where Juggs gave me a masterwork sandwich, I had the guards help us out with healing and taking the body to the Ceruleans for reporting and research, and I finally got a much needed bath in the lake. What a day.

    Now, I should go talk to Kathea, and some other mages, to make sure that I get some answers about the other half of this lance ... I'm not giving up now. It's just getting more and more interesting!


  • There are a few things that make me feel, well, more alive than anything else. One of them, is being surrounded by foes on all sides, fighting myself into a circle of corpses, and getting to step, or climb out of them, victorious.

    This time, I wandered into a war, small scale, more of a battle, but not to our foes, Im sure. The Dwarf Hold, 'holed' up in Sam's Hole, was apparently under attack. Some adventurers were apparently out and about in various caves, when others ended up stumbling upon them. My own entrance to their group was ... unexpected, to say the least.

    Someone had left a scroll in front of a citizen, and of ALL the people in Peltarch he could bring it to, this inquisitor was the one he did so to ... so I took a look, and by the time I got to the part about "Baleful Teleport" ... well, we got whisked away to underground. The citizen immediately whipped off his robe to reveal sneaking leathers, grabbed a pair of daggers, and went to go scout, saying to wait for him ... but after much waiting, he did not return.

    Awesome.

    We plodded through a very dark cave, where I felt in unfamiliar territory, when a rumble shook the place, and before long, goblins began pouring out of holes. And when I say goblins, I mean that our group of nearly 20 was grossly outnumbered, goblins swarming 10 or more to one, and clambering over us, each other, and the corpses of their fallen to scramble gibbering like madmen to plunge their crude little knives into soft adventurer flesh, and use their clubs to knock some adventurer noggins.

    Little did we know, that we were below the Dwarf Fortress at that point, and that this was an attack. A war. For us, the war was on. There was no time to think, or plan, just enough time to shout that somebody should check ahead for our way out, and the fight was on. I hewed limbs from little green corpses, one after the other, flat out CRUSHED any that charged foolishly too close to me, and cleaved my way through MANY at a time, as their numbers passed the hundred mark, and kept coming.

    There were a couple of brief pauses in the assult, in which we healed up the folks taking more of a beating than others, and I did my best to run back and forth to take the pressure off of others, but sooner or later, we were going to get overwhelmed, especially if more bombers and veterans poured in. The Elite fighters and Veterans were at least a match for some of the newer adventurers, and we were starting to risk losing some ... so I did the only think I could think to do.

    I ROARED.

    May the Lion keep my spirit as his, and my voice as his as well, for the goblins retreated at the sound, the very ground shook, and the adventurers looked on in shock as we gained a brief respite from the chaos. Thank you, Lion. That saved lives.

    We moved onward, only to discover where we really were, having to take out an animated statue, and sneak past a guard, and finally exited their keep to the delight of the dwarves on the wall, who informed us that an army was coming, whose other push we had thwarted already.

    Siege weapons (Cannons!) , debris for blockades, and surprisingly receptive adventurers made for a HELL of a war party, and we took on the waves of goblins handily, exploding the little green bastards whenever the cannon's firing crew had their aim together, and through the bard Talesin the Taleteller nearly bit it from the attentions of a caster or five ... we all made it out alive, much to the delight of the Dwarves we helped, and we were rewarded generously with a pack of potions and spellcrystals, and some gold.

    The citizen also reappeared ... captured by the Dwarves, as he had indeed gone scouting, and found their treasure room. He's fine,
    as they released him to me to send back to town, thankfully ... so I guess all's well that ends well.

    I don't know if the War of Sam's Hole and the Dwarf Fortress is going to end up in the books, but it was memorable for us, and I'm glad for that random citizen and his stupid cursed scroll, or I might not have been there. Now ... to go research what kind of spells I need someone to be able to cast to find the other half of this lance.


  • Developments-

    The day before yesterday, I Saw a vision with the lance, and so did everyone else. I felt like I do when holding the lance, but not while holding the lance, with the elation but despair, abandonment while bathed in the lgiht of a loving entity. Then I started shaking, and the lance started buzzing, and then things appeared. When I saw things, I mean seemingly planar manifestations ... one seemingly Celestial, one seemingly Infernal. Basically, An angel looking figure, and a devil or demon looking figure, both appeared, pointed to their mouths while mouthing a word, and vanished.

    I went to the bardic college, and did some research with Keerla, Caling, Kathea and Laerune. Laerune determined that the base of lance has something special to it. The way it's shaped, the way the energy flows down the hilt, not the actual lance, it's strange. Perhaps it's a connector, or a key, without it's rightful place. Even the design of the hilt and shaft looking to be something you wuld insert as a whole.

    Maybe they were trying to indicate a command word? Or a hole. Or the mouth of something?

    That was a fruitful visit, so I decided that the bardic college would be a good bet overall, so I sought out someone I've seen show up in reports, and perhaps met a time or two, the Master bard, Nathen Wingates. Turns out, he's pretty much exactly as people describe him. In terms of the lance and some knowledge, that was a good thing. In terms of innuendo, he was much worse than anticipated! I hope nobody was near the inn rooms at the Mermaid, else the rumor mill is going to catch fire.

    Nate cast some spells, held the lance, and determined the following. It's definitely two parts, and a key. Forged by, or blessed by, or forged in the name of, an ancient Power. They were interested in autonomy, individuality, freedom, and intended this spear to reflect that. That explains the duality of the feelings it gives you, both good and bad, free and shackled, blessed and abandoned ...

    It's either one thing, or the other, according to different texts. Some clain that it is an artifact to contain ... something. The texts are vague, as archaic texts tend to be. The other texts claim that it's an artifact intended to liberate, or release. Like some manner of 'key', as it were. So containment, or liberation. Mysteries all around...

    Nate's guess? They're both right.

    He also bets that the other side is infused with negative energy. I thought that since both manifested, that couldn't be true, but since the thing was always meant to be whole, of course both would manifest. So now, I guess I'll try to find out where the other half it. Come to think of it ... I bet that's scryable!


  • I'm not sure if 'Adventure' covers what just happened.

    Lemme back up though, and describe was I wasn't ready for that, just yet.

    A small group of us had decided on some adventure, a good old fashioned wander, if you will. Karrick, Isolde, and Me, joined later by Ros with her uncanny knack for finding us by the trail of corpses in our wake ... uncanny, I say! The wander started with Karrick having returned from an adventure with some others, who slew a vampire! Yana gave me a brace of the most beautifully crafted axes I've ever seen from their stash, simply for the asking, as I was stunned that nobody wanted them! Karrick had a cloak from it, with Helm's sigil upon it, and a bit of magic to it, too. He wanted to see it returned to the temple in Jiyyd, so off we went.

    The trip down was uneventful, all the way to the door, and our experience with lady Alicia was pleasant, til she grilled Karrick upon seeing his ... abnormality. The tail, really. Apparently, he was once a Tiamat follower, greedy and avaricious as a dragon, but now seeks to alter his path, and find Asogorath. Whatever that is.

    We decided from there to check out the will, since I mentioned that I'd seen demons last I was there, and sure enough, we found some. A LOT of them, in fact. The daring fighters, the flapping horrors, quasits and their Godsforsaken missile spells, even dretches and their stinking clouds of putrid stench. Then, the surprise ... fiendish necromancers and succubi arrived, working some kind of ritual in which they summoned burning Skeletons!

    Karrick was burn proof, by virtue or apparently having red dragon blood in him, but my ring kept me safe, and we fought together, punching flaming skeletons while we were ALSO on fire. It must have made for quite a scene ... so having wasted them, we moved on to where I remembered the altar room from .. where I'd fought a giant undead wyvern not so very long ago, and sure enough, there were shenanigans going on. A nefalshee and several Vrocks, who predictably diseased us quite immediately, but all fell in the end. We collected the loot of healing berries, and a strange idol ... missing it's gem-eyes, one of which we found nearby, which ended up being QUITE spooky overall, in it's effect on the nearby light.

    Thanks to it's very unique magic signature, we found it's partner after nearly an entire day of random wandering, down ... yea, another well. One we FELL down, where I nearly flattened poor Karrick. Inside, a maze of mind-tricks, spells, and foes, including, yes ... SWARMS of Quasits, the awful bastards ... saw us victoriously to the end ... where an incubus tried to tempt us into giving over the statue, that it was not meant for mortal hands, and promising us riches and more.

    The deal offering was cut short as none of us wanted to take such from -them-, and Karrick putting his war pick in the critter's skull, prompting us to help kill it. Ros was here by this point, having been first down the well, and gave him several 'points' to think about in response to his 'deal' offer.

    Then Karrick and I drank up a bunch of beneficial potions, expecting to meet this "lord something or other" who the demon was bringing a deal forward for, and we got a faceful of a dozen succubi, several Vrocks, a Nefalshee and a Hezrou, who waited at his little ritual spot til he was forced to fight us, thankfully. I don't think he wanted to interrupt what he was up to, and was probably hoping we'd die so his flunkies could just bring the last bits to him, and he could complete whatever working he was up to...

    As for me, now out of potions except strength, bark, and healing, I got hit with those draining touches from the succubi, and though I shrugged off their first few attemtps, I started feeling my soul get leached away, so I ran to drink one of my last restoration potions, and heard the next Incubus tell Isolde to come to his arms, he would comfort and help her, and he sounded almost like Nate.

    So she went to do so.

    My potion worked, and I was no longer blinded or drained, and mister incubus ... well, he got an armful of Cecil instead, and went down quick and hard. Isolde was shocked, and apologetic, but we didn't have time for that ... we have to take out the Hezrou. I shouted Ashena's name, my fiancee, my love, my demon hunting buddy, heh ... and we slew the beast, Karrick and I alternating between fighting defensively with it in our face, and then going all out as it focused on the other. Or at least, that's what -I- did. He may have just been strong enough to go full out the whole time.

    Anyway, we killed it, are going to research the stupid relic, and I'm glad that was disrupted some bloody plans of these planar jackwagons. I'm hoping that with their defeat, we've cleaned out one of the last strongholds of remaining demons, and that we'll see under the well demon-free soon too.

    SO, having survived that, I went back to Peltarch, bought a LOT of potions again, having had to use plenty in our endeavor, and then Filifred ruined everyone's day. BADLY. But, more on that later. I need to go check in with Jonothan, and clean off this broken lance. I used it quite a lot against demons, undead, and even orcs, to see if it responded in any way, but so far, nothing yet.

    I will find it's purpose, it's story.

    Somehow.


  • The Job.

    It's been a while since I've had an official, "on paper" assignment. I got them occasionally while I was with Norwick, but not with any real frequency, as I was usually self-managing, and largely unsupervised.

    This was little different in the lack of supervision, unless she joined us invisibly, but today I got my first contract from the clerk. She's a friendly, quiet type, the clerk. I was handed a sheet, which read that I, Inquisitor Cecil Northman, was authorized to use Lethal Force in the pursuit of the remaining enemies of Peltarch, known as the "Blackcloaks."

    My magistrate signed it, and the clerk cleared her throat, saying something along the lines of, "The magistrate regrets to inform you that the gaol is full at the moment, so apprehension will not be possible."

    Sometimes I love 'red tape'.

    I read the reports in this town. I have access to many of them. Despite my appearance and heritage, I've acquired no small skill at it, and enjoy it a great deal, so when the word of Blackcloaks attacking the orphanage to get back at some adventurers came across paper, I saw it.

    Gathering folks was no large task. Plenty were sitting around the commons with me when the orders came along. When I explained what it was, and what I had heard, there was an enthusiastic response, so off we went to the cliffside caves. Thankfully, Vick and other stealthy types were along, so I had scout support. Two guards were at the cave mouth, and with some instruction, the signal was given, and I charged across the sand as fast as my legs would let me. The snarky guards had some comments for me as I came charging up, probably thinking my interest was just to go into the caves or something, and there may have been a silence scroll involved, because their lips moved, but no sound made it out.

    I'll give them this, they were tough bastards. Kinda hard to hit, but as sturdy as me, to a man, for many of them. Two corpses reddening the sand later, we took an assessment as a group, made sure we were as prepared as we could be, and moved in at the signal, encountering a couple more, and a theme developed. We would lure or ambush, one or two would inevitably try to break off and get to "Jan", who must have been in charge, but no matter how fast they tried to be, I'm faster. And my scouts were there to cut them off, too, shooting their legs and hampering them in general. As much as I tease Vick for having to run from a single lizard, he stood his ground to stop these shits from getting away.

    We collected their insignias as we went, since this was an official job. I know I would be believed if I returned saying the job was done, but it doesn't hurt to be thorough. All went well, til we got to Jan and her flunkies. The scouts found several much tougher looking guys helping a blonde load a boat, presumably this, "Jan."

    They also said there was a curtained off room that they couldn't safely get to, and let us know to expect trouble from it, just in case. Having noted that, we wondered how to keep Jan and her pals from scampering off in the boat, and I said that I had that handled, to just follow me in, and get to work.

    I prepped with potions, most importantly speed and invisibility, and charged into the room. If anybody noticed the sound or sand I kicked up, they made no move about it in the seconds it took me to get myself between Jan and the boat, and trusting my allies to filter in behind me, I got their attention by taking a swing at Jan, and then kicking her onto her face in the sand for the follow-up swing, immediately starting the party with a score on her armor, and thoroughly farking up her day. She made an unpleasant noise, and the battle was on as she got to her feet to engage me, and her seemingly Elite Guards engaged as well.

    I had a good spot, as only one or two would get to me at once, so Scott took a few on immediately too, and the others filtered in around them, with Ting taking a position by the curtained room to take potshots at Jan.

    As the battle flowed, and positions changed, I moved to assist Scott and the others as they had a few too many on them, and thankfully Jan didn't go right for the boat, probably knowing that she wasn't far enough to keep us off of it ... but she DID notice her guards falling, and screamed for people to wake up, prompting a curtain to twitch aside in that room the scouts mentioned, and then my face was full of guard again, as the last couple struggles to buy their compatriots time to presumably gear up properly before joining the fray.

    I could have counted the seconds. It was about twenty. The pause was long enough that I honestly thought it was a bluff tactic, and as I glanced over every couple moments, I was waiting for Ting to spring away from the door, to avoid the potential ambush, but she did not ... and sure enough, soldiers flooded out from the room. A LOT of them. All I saw were swords raising and fallen, and I did not even hear her cry out over the din.

    Surrounded. I was swarmed with bodies, covered in cuts, and had I been any smaller, I could have been crushed beneath the strikes that came in from all sides, trying to knock me off my feet to finish me off. Instead, I grinned. This is where I fight best. Give me more than one enemy to cut through, and watch the blood fly ... and fly it did. Scott at my back helped a lot, and enemies screamed, flew back, fell down, and dropped dead missing limbs all around us, their crashing wave of momentum broken upon our shore of defense and sheer killing capability.

    Then, Jan and a couple of straggling guards were all that were left. Our polearm user pushed the boat away, someone shot or stabbed holes in it, and by the time Jan decided to run in defeat, it was too far to jump in armor, and she was stuck ... she cursed Kurth, as her final words, and fell, struck down with an arrow in the throat, making her drop her weapon and gasp horribly around the blood as she lost her footing, and dropped to her knees in the dirt, trying to staunch the bleeding and staring at us with hateful eyes, trying even then to curse us through the bubbling blood.

    My sword in her neck was half courtesy, half unnecessary spite at that point, as we started the grisly work of collecting blood soaked insignias from them, and I picked up Ting's body, to carry outside. Surprisingly, as we trudged up the path, the Peltarch Military was there waiting for us, sent presumably to see if we were a success, and they were kind enough to raise Ting on the spot.

    I've since delivered my insignias, and been told that the Magistrate was pleased with my work, so I suppose it was all a success. The attempted kid-killers are dead, their leader got ganked by adventurers days ago, and now the last attempted escapees from whatever else occurred, have met justice right at the jump-off to what could have been freedom.

    The Lion be praised, they won't be plaguing anyone else in our place, as they did not get away. I doubt there's more of them, but I'll keep my ear to the ground about it anyway, just to be sure.

    Looking at the state of my stashes now ... I need to stock back up. Too many big fights, too many small hauls. I'll check back with Jonothan for the regular stuff, then go see what people have for sale, I suppose!

    But first ... beer. Pages and pitchers, what a good combination!


  • Sometimes, old habits die hard.

    Frankly, that's kind of how it should be. The hardest dying habits are usually the ones you've cultivated over years, even accidentally.

    I found myself walking a patrol, rather than just walking through the Residentials, checking into alleys and behind buildings, and keeping my ears open for anything unusual ... which frankly, is a LOT more stuff than you'd hear in Norwick. The sheer number of people here alone is enough to turn everything I've gotten used to on it's head!

    Even now, with me no longer being a 'guard', patrol was on the menu, so I did a few glances here and there as I normally would, on the way to the temple, where I spoke to Jonothan about what's going on since I saw him last. We speak often enough, since I tend to buy a LOT of potions, and this time, he seemed glad for my asking. Apparently, a newish necromancer had showed up in the sewers to cause trouble.

    I said that I would take some time and check in on it, and end the threat if I could. He seemed to take to the idea that I might check in once in a while and let him know what's going on outside, since his duties keep him inside the temple, and there's not a lot of folks to help with the outside lately. I happily agreed to oblige, and off I went.

    I found some of the usual suspects in the commons, and had some urchins spread the word that I was gathering folks for a mission, and off we went, into the sewers. I KIND of know my way around down there, but not nearly as well as I should, but we found out way to where we were going easily enough, as not only was the goal the crypts, but we encountered headless men and unusual undead as soon as we started getting close, so I knew when I was on the right path.

    Cultists attacked after our first big battle, coming running at the sound of the pitched battle we just fought, having been surprised and largely unspelled against the fairly tough foes that appeared from around a corner, and set to our party with fists and fangs and weapons and cold, unfeeling, efficiency.

    The cultists were down quickly, as they had the foolish idea to charge noisily in, screaming their battle cries, and that let me take three or four strides, to welcome them at the door.

    The first threw his head back to scream a spell, his hand extended at my group, eyes widening in fervor, and then closing after a jerk, and a moment's surprise, his head cleanly removed on my strike that was conveniently aimed at his pal next to him ... and he was just in the way. So I went Through him. The next guy didn't give up a while lot of resistance, poorly armored and too skinny, so I got the one next to HIM too, all in one swing.

    Turns out, that was enough to scatter them a bit more, making them somehow even WORSE at being organized against us, if such a thing were possible, and the arrows and blades of my allies wiped the floor with the rest of them in record time.

    We took stock, then, Thorin blessed my sword to burst into REAL flame, and off we went. It got crazy, fast. Undead I've never seen before, these headless monstrosities, attacked, with the other usual ones joining in, including those farkin priests and their hold spells. My new armor shrugged off enough blows while I was held that I didn't get too badly hurt, but I DID get annoyed. Thankfully, there was plenty to take out my aggression on in the next room, and all around my, my allies, including the new Druid girl, Cia, did admirably.

    I'm going to have to start keeping a roster of who joins me on these things, considering what happened later, but I'll get to that, soon. For now, necromancers ...

    We fought through the usual, the unusual, and finally got to the his lair, where he did the usual mocking of us mortals, and then summoned MUMMIES Onto us. Not Mummy Lords, at least, so they went down mighty quickly, much to his disappointment, which I admit I didn't see much of thanks to everybody mauling his ass too much for him to concentrate very well on his feelings.

    My feelings, however ... were an issue, as I was FEELING the biggest headless creature beating the shit out of me, while folks had to take a quick breather to drink potions and heal up, and I figured I could hold it off for a moment.

    I was wrong.

    I couldn't put that new knowledge of centering my weight to be able to dodge more efficiently to good work, and I got knocked to the floor, and everything started to go black for a moment, before someone got up under my arm, urging me to fight on, and I felt strength and feeling return to my body. CLOSE ONE!

    Once he went down, it turned out that we missed a room, all the way back at the beginning, where he'd been doing his experiments. One of his comments made sense then, about wanting some of our people for their 'parts', to make the ultimate creation ... as he had a lab with a FARKED up body he'd been trying to make into one of his abominations. We gathered up the loot and headed back, after that, and I brought Jonothan the body in question, so the church could know what's up with what comes crawling out of the sewers, should it happen again.

    We got some gold and various trinkets out of it, and I ... I got a broken lance. On purpose, mind you. Something about it just ... called to me, and the moment I picked it up, I knew that I made the right choice. There was something .. holy about it, for a moment. Then, I felt the most crushing loss, like I'd been raised up to see my God, standing in his giant palm to be brought before his loving gaze ... only for him to drop me as he turned away.

    Something is up with this, and Jonothan verified what I thought ... that I should hold onto it, use it if I can, and try to learn more. It's broken, blackened and charred, but harms undead with power divine. Perhaps it's something that can be restored, or redeemed ... and hey, if anyone could do that, it's a knight, right?

    I think I need another pitcher of beer after this, but next time I write, I'm going to get to write about my first Inquisitorial Mission. The Blackcloaks, those Orphanage attacking Motherless whores to swine, got better than what they deserved by me being the one to find them.

    First, beer.


  • _One day, things will come together.

    Albryanna told me that, I told me that, hells, even my fellow soldiers told me that, in various forms.

    Yesterday was a day where I realized that, finally, it kind of has. Not that mine is a bad life, by any means. It's just that when your goals and training and circumstance all team up to visit on the same week, well, you can't help but sit up and notice.

    I've always wanted to be a knight, and in joining the Knights Requietum, I had hoped that even though its not an 'official' knighthood, decreed by a King, it's the next best thing. I earned my place, am a sword sword-brother, and am going to make a name for us, dammit. Sure we've had our holes in the road, but our wagon isn't broken yet. With Shae back, perhaps we'll have a little more leadership traction to move on some things.

    With Albryanna gone, I worried for a time that my training was going to fall back some, since she was my battle-buddy, my martial mentor, and together, we took on all comers, and came out ahead.

    Usually.

    Well, these days, it's Kat and company that I spend a bunch of time with, seeking out places to adventure, picking on everything from Bugbears to Hooked Horrors. Thousands of attacks to hone myself against, hundreds of nasty injuries, and so many potions drank later, it came to me, in the dark.

    That feeling when you finally realize that you're seeing the hits before they come, and able to move out of the way JUST enough … that's where I've been wanting to be, and where I finally got to. It all just ... clicked. I'm faster, more nimble, as if I finally learned how to move in my armor. I can't wait to practice it some more on purpose, and see what kind of difference it makes.

    Honestly, it seems like a good thing to practice with my new friend and his trainees. If I can hold the attention of an enemy, and have them do the heavy lifting with their skills, perhaps it'll be a -sustainable- edge, one where I'm not drinking more potions than a field drinks water.

    Next step ... train my mind. I don't think that Cormyrean Purple Dragon Knight is going to be any less frosty and suddenly willing to teach me anything in particular, so for now ... my search will turn to two new realistic and attainable goals.

    Time to rewrite the list.

    1.) Figure out what to do with inquisitor armor. For now, I've got it stored in the Edge with Alvaniel. Check!

    2.) Find that knight. Lady Irene of Cormyr. Frosty Lady saw fit to test me, at least, but either she wasn't impressed, or was just being polite. I won't take more of her time. I think I'll consider my knighthood goal mostly accomplished, as I got promoted in the Order.

    3.) Acquire a requisition form from Magistrate Borodin. No dice yet, as she's been conspicuously absent. Rumors are flying about, however, so perhaps I should push the pen in her direction first and tell her what I've seen, to see if she has a preference of what I get up to, first.

    4.) Finish reading the Peltarch Employee records and previous cases seen by the Magistrates to get familiar with case law. Done. I'm up to date, know where to find what there is to find, and can use both sources for future reference.

    5.) Practice. Train. Progress. It's like I've Improved on my Expertise at getting the hell out of the way of the various pointy and sharp things coming my way. Now to figure out how to better be able to hit back while I'm busy getting my arse out of the way.

    6.) Funds. Doing better, here. Not great, not rich, probably not even close to -enough- really, but it's a start. Be patient, be relentless, and get it done, Cecil.

    7.) I need to copy that letter into here, and make some more copies for my companions, AND tell The Order about what I found in the crypts that day. You forgot -again-. Do this soon. Yesterday, preferably.

    Time to go read up on the Order's tasks, and pick one to focus on. I think I'm going to try to visit those Gondians, next.

    The Lion has blessed me, and I will make good on his investment._