If there's one thing that I've learned in my adventures, it's that the monsters of all parts of the world seem to know when the only bastard wearing armor is the bastard who doesn't much need it.
Take these trolls. Foul smelling things, I've got to say. It's too bad you need fire to end the things. They smell damn awful. But it's better than having to fight them, I suppose.
But that's not really the point. The point is that they wait until I'm the only bastard still wearing his armor. Not the bloody paladins, no. They certainly don't need to be wearing a damn thing. Poor Flam bought himself a nice suit of plate mail, and hasn't fought in it yet.
But me? Aside from the time when the gods decided that the adventure's of the aquatic dwarf would make a damn fine tune for the bards some day, I've been wearing everything, every time we get attacked. And I don't even fight, not really. Sure, I've been known to throw a punch or two defending the dubious honor of a lassie here and there, and there was that damn gnome I smashed pretty good. But I've never made a lad's head explode with a sword, not like these paladins. And I've sure as hell taken a lot fewer beatings.
But for all that, I'm not sure which is worse: the fighting, or the walking. I spent a long life earning my fetching barrel shape, and I did it the proper dwarvish way: by sitting on a bar stool and drinking more ale than any damn human could hope to match. But at the rate we're walking, I'm afraid I'll be able to see my own toes in a few more days. Well, aside from the beard, anyway.
By Pelor's beard. Unless regular exercise is what makes the hair go away. Could that be what happened to Flam?
May the gods help us all.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Monday, January 4, 2010
New Friends
Meet some interesting people today. Even more interesting then the people is how we meet. So the group is headed to a keep where the magical staff is located. We did some investigating and decided that we should wait until the next day to try and get the item. Well the group that occupied the keep would not have it. A monk came out and attacked us, so we decided it was now or never. So we decided to try and split up the group. I went with the group whose job was cause a distraction. Things for the most part went well for us, but not for the other group. They were captured and a cease fire was called for. It was at this point we discovered these people were good people. Thankfully no one was killed.
I spent the rest of the night learning more about these people. They believe in balance and that is why they want to keep the staff with them. I have to admit they probably can protect the item better then us. So we will allow them to keep it for now. I would like to spend some more time with them and learn more about their ways, but now is not the time. We are headed out tomorrow to try and find some work and try and track down the next temple from our dreams.
I spent the rest of the night learning more about these people. They believe in balance and that is why they want to keep the staff with them. I have to admit they probably can protect the item better then us. So we will allow them to keep it for now. I would like to spend some more time with them and learn more about their ways, but now is not the time. We are headed out tomorrow to try and find some work and try and track down the next temple from our dreams.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
From The Journal of Jacob Cayle
So, we're off to the desert. Which on the plus side, means we won't have to worry about breathing underwater (knock on wood). The disadvantage of course is that we should make sure we've got enough water to drink. I'll have to see if the cleric has the ability to conjure water from thin air for us (clerics can be so useful for such situations).
I should also take advantage of any towns we come across to see if they have any interesting magical items for sale. I'm not sure how common magic is in this part of the world, but it's always useful to find out what's available locally, if there are any local specialties and what-not. What is common here may be rare elsewhere and vice versa.
And I may have to keep an eye out for any shamans in the area that may be more helpful to me in finding out what that thing is that's been hovering over my shoulder.
Journal of Arcadius
Notes
We are preparing for a long overland journey to the temple or fortress that was our goal prior to the theft of the staff by the gnome. As mentioned it is in a land to the east and somewhat north of my own, beyond the cities of the vile demon-worshipers and the lands of the accursed barbarians.
However, from THIS direction, those obstacles are not present, and though it may take two or three weeks, it is still likely to prove simpler that getting back to Izmir, dealing with or evading corrupted authorities, and trusting that we can arrange the necessary means to get there by magic.
Also, Ragnarr has been acting strangely lately. If I am opening my eyes and mind correctly to the light of Pelor, I would say Ragnarr has seen much pain in his life. What that means for his behavior is however somewhat mysterious. I do not doubt the strength of his faith or the greatness of his heart. However, he is drinking more than usual, and I could swear he has been eyeing Aurelia and the human female monks.
*A*
We are preparing for a long overland journey to the temple or fortress that was our goal prior to the theft of the staff by the gnome. As mentioned it is in a land to the east and somewhat north of my own, beyond the cities of the vile demon-worshipers and the lands of the accursed barbarians.
However, from THIS direction, those obstacles are not present, and though it may take two or three weeks, it is still likely to prove simpler that getting back to Izmir, dealing with or evading corrupted authorities, and trusting that we can arrange the necessary means to get there by magic.
Also, Ragnarr has been acting strangely lately. If I am opening my eyes and mind correctly to the light of Pelor, I would say Ragnarr has seen much pain in his life. What that means for his behavior is however somewhat mysterious. I do not doubt the strength of his faith or the greatness of his heart. However, he is drinking more than usual, and I could swear he has been eyeing Aurelia and the human female monks.
*A*
Journal of Arcadius
Of Rhinos and Justice Done
When Jacob and Walter-Tupper were teleported into the depths of the keep, they found the defenders prepared. A monk and some sort of mage awaited them, ready for battle. Neither Jacob nor Walter-Tupper are men trained extensively for hand-to-hand battle, though Jacob is still dangerous in a fight thanks to his magic.
Little would any, least of all the enemy mage, have guessed what form that magic would take.
Rather than immediately using his blasting power, Jacob summoned a Rhinoceros. Rhinos are formidable creatures known in my part of the world. They are huge, armored, and have massive yet sharp horns on their noses that they favor using by charging into their foes. Curious, if fortunate, that Jacob knew of them.
The Rhinoceros appeared and he ordered it to charge forward against the enemy mage. The room was, it seems, large enough for the rhinoceros to charge, and woe to he who is the recipient of a rhino's charge!
It is fortunate for all concerened that the ceiling in that room was not dependent on internal pillars for its support.
It was unfortunate for the enemy mage that he was in its path. After crushing him against a crystal wall protecting the staff, the rhinoceros then proceeded to stomp on him for some time, during which his own allies kept reviving him with healing magic. He seems to have been conscious, if helpless, through most of the proceedings. May the gods have granted him perseverance.
In the meanwhile, however, the monk made short work of our party members, particularly Walter-Tupper. When our friends awakened, they were in a cell WITH the accursed gnome. It seems it was at this point that things began to become clear.
Praise be to Pelor that the light of knowledge illuminated our way!
We must also remember to use Rhinos again in the future.
Meanwhile, as noted previously, the main party had come to realize the defenders of the fort were not our enemies at all, and come to terms with them. Also, as noted, they handed over the gnome to us.
Ragnarr and I prayed to Lord Pelor for guidance on what to do. In this matter, it was clear we were not under the jurisdiction of any extant lawful government, and thus had to execute justice ourselves. There was some discussion as to what form this should take.
Walter-Tupper seemed to think that justice could only be done by handing the gnome over to some secular ruler such as the King of Izmir. But how so? How does a faraway king whose own commitment to justice in this matter is, I think, subject to question, have power over affairs here? In wild and lawless lands, law must be made.
It is to the gods that we must answer, and they have commended us to this task. In the end, the others saw the wisdom of executing this evildoer. However, it is very important that such things be done correctly, for justice is not vengeance, nor it is it murder.
Accordingly, I prepared a writ of punishment in the old and correct form as used in my homeland, taking care to clarify to Walter-Tupper, in detail and at length, points that might be unclear to him.
The others were set by as witnesses.
I read the writ of punishment out to the vile and wicked gnome, listing his crimes and his worthiness for punishment in the style I had seen my father use many times - though rarely for crimes so severe - to the best of my ability. Then, I carried out the sentence, beheading him in one clean stroke. We burned his remains, and Ragnarr and I prayed that his soul, once it had undergone its suitable punishment in the afterlife, could someday find redemption.
Still, it was a strange, feeling for a time as much like a Guardian of the Land of the Five Rivers as a Paladin of Pelor. I wonder what my father and my family are doing at this very moment. Are they well? If this darkness, this horror from the sea succeeds, they will most certainly not be. Nor will anyone. I am reminded of the gravity of the path we have accepted, my companions and I. I will follow the duty it entails to the very end.
Rightly we have done, rightly we do, and rightly may we do in the times to come.
*A*
When Jacob and Walter-Tupper were teleported into the depths of the keep, they found the defenders prepared. A monk and some sort of mage awaited them, ready for battle. Neither Jacob nor Walter-Tupper are men trained extensively for hand-to-hand battle, though Jacob is still dangerous in a fight thanks to his magic.
Little would any, least of all the enemy mage, have guessed what form that magic would take.
Rather than immediately using his blasting power, Jacob summoned a Rhinoceros. Rhinos are formidable creatures known in my part of the world. They are huge, armored, and have massive yet sharp horns on their noses that they favor using by charging into their foes. Curious, if fortunate, that Jacob knew of them.
The Rhinoceros appeared and he ordered it to charge forward against the enemy mage. The room was, it seems, large enough for the rhinoceros to charge, and woe to he who is the recipient of a rhino's charge!
It is fortunate for all concerened that the ceiling in that room was not dependent on internal pillars for its support.
It was unfortunate for the enemy mage that he was in its path. After crushing him against a crystal wall protecting the staff, the rhinoceros then proceeded to stomp on him for some time, during which his own allies kept reviving him with healing magic. He seems to have been conscious, if helpless, through most of the proceedings. May the gods have granted him perseverance.
In the meanwhile, however, the monk made short work of our party members, particularly Walter-Tupper. When our friends awakened, they were in a cell WITH the accursed gnome. It seems it was at this point that things began to become clear.
Praise be to Pelor that the light of knowledge illuminated our way!
We must also remember to use Rhinos again in the future.
Meanwhile, as noted previously, the main party had come to realize the defenders of the fort were not our enemies at all, and come to terms with them. Also, as noted, they handed over the gnome to us.
Ragnarr and I prayed to Lord Pelor for guidance on what to do. In this matter, it was clear we were not under the jurisdiction of any extant lawful government, and thus had to execute justice ourselves. There was some discussion as to what form this should take.
Walter-Tupper seemed to think that justice could only be done by handing the gnome over to some secular ruler such as the King of Izmir. But how so? How does a faraway king whose own commitment to justice in this matter is, I think, subject to question, have power over affairs here? In wild and lawless lands, law must be made.
It is to the gods that we must answer, and they have commended us to this task. In the end, the others saw the wisdom of executing this evildoer. However, it is very important that such things be done correctly, for justice is not vengeance, nor it is it murder.
Accordingly, I prepared a writ of punishment in the old and correct form as used in my homeland, taking care to clarify to Walter-Tupper, in detail and at length, points that might be unclear to him.
The others were set by as witnesses.
I read the writ of punishment out to the vile and wicked gnome, listing his crimes and his worthiness for punishment in the style I had seen my father use many times - though rarely for crimes so severe - to the best of my ability. Then, I carried out the sentence, beheading him in one clean stroke. We burned his remains, and Ragnarr and I prayed that his soul, once it had undergone its suitable punishment in the afterlife, could someday find redemption.
Still, it was a strange, feeling for a time as much like a Guardian of the Land of the Five Rivers as a Paladin of Pelor. I wonder what my father and my family are doing at this very moment. Are they well? If this darkness, this horror from the sea succeeds, they will most certainly not be. Nor will anyone. I am reminded of the gravity of the path we have accepted, my companions and I. I will follow the duty it entails to the very end.
Rightly we have done, rightly we do, and rightly may we do in the times to come.
*A*
Journal of Arcadius
Of Mistaken Identity
We were attacked in the night by a lone female monk, who moved with blinding speed and unerring grace, attacking us - particularly Walter-Tupper - quite effectively, and then leaving as suddenly as she had come.
Though we knew this must be some sort of effort to unsettle us and draw us into attacking their prepared position, it was also clear they knew exactly where we were, and could strike with greater force at any time. Despite the appearance of a trap, and our own weariness, we attacked the fort immediately.
We sent Jacob and Walter-Tupper into the depths of the fort by magic, in hopes that they could sneak in and retrieve the staff. To that end, the rest of us were to distract the enemy. Ragnarr held back to wield the healing power of Pelor, while the rest of us assaulted the front gate.
The defenders poured arrows down upon us. Chris created a stone ramp up their wall, but the enemy, with mages of their own, prompty damaged it. Trusting in Lord Pelor, I ran up the remnants of the ramp and reached the top, but it crumbled behind me. At the top I began battling the defenders, and was soon joined by Fflam and Chris. Aurelia fired arrows to support us from below.
We soon gained control of the first wall of the battlements, and sent two of the mages tumbling off from towers. Then, much to our shock, the remaining guards surrendered. At this point, something odd became apparent, far from looking or acting like bandits, these men seemed to be disciplined soldiers.
We still faced the assault on the keep itself, but all seemed momentarily well.
Then, a magically amplified voice called for a truce. Given the honorable behavior of these foes thus far, and the incongruities of what they seemed to be relative to what we had expected, it seemed reasonable to do so.
Several robed leaders left the keep and came to speak to us. They were elders of grave dignity, and clearly not bandit chieftains. A short discussion established that they were in fact an order of monks who had recently taken over this place from its former masters, who were the very evil-aligned bandits we had been chasing.
As was soon revealed, they had thought WE were allies of those bandits, but had come to realize otherwise. It turned out they had captured both the gnome and the staff, and were guarding the latter.
Praise be to Pelor!
After some discussion, it was made clear that they had not confidence in us to guard the staff ourselves, and I believe they are correct. Our missions take us constantly to the forefront of danger, and it must be admitted that we have already lost the staff once.
We were able to come to terms, offered hospitality for a few days in preparation for our journey to the next location of our mission, and, importantly, given jurisdiction over the gnome.
Meanwhile, it seemed the other fight had not gone so well.
*A*
We were attacked in the night by a lone female monk, who moved with blinding speed and unerring grace, attacking us - particularly Walter-Tupper - quite effectively, and then leaving as suddenly as she had come.
Though we knew this must be some sort of effort to unsettle us and draw us into attacking their prepared position, it was also clear they knew exactly where we were, and could strike with greater force at any time. Despite the appearance of a trap, and our own weariness, we attacked the fort immediately.
We sent Jacob and Walter-Tupper into the depths of the fort by magic, in hopes that they could sneak in and retrieve the staff. To that end, the rest of us were to distract the enemy. Ragnarr held back to wield the healing power of Pelor, while the rest of us assaulted the front gate.
The defenders poured arrows down upon us. Chris created a stone ramp up their wall, but the enemy, with mages of their own, prompty damaged it. Trusting in Lord Pelor, I ran up the remnants of the ramp and reached the top, but it crumbled behind me. At the top I began battling the defenders, and was soon joined by Fflam and Chris. Aurelia fired arrows to support us from below.
We soon gained control of the first wall of the battlements, and sent two of the mages tumbling off from towers. Then, much to our shock, the remaining guards surrendered. At this point, something odd became apparent, far from looking or acting like bandits, these men seemed to be disciplined soldiers.
We still faced the assault on the keep itself, but all seemed momentarily well.
Then, a magically amplified voice called for a truce. Given the honorable behavior of these foes thus far, and the incongruities of what they seemed to be relative to what we had expected, it seemed reasonable to do so.
Several robed leaders left the keep and came to speak to us. They were elders of grave dignity, and clearly not bandit chieftains. A short discussion established that they were in fact an order of monks who had recently taken over this place from its former masters, who were the very evil-aligned bandits we had been chasing.
As was soon revealed, they had thought WE were allies of those bandits, but had come to realize otherwise. It turned out they had captured both the gnome and the staff, and were guarding the latter.
Praise be to Pelor!
After some discussion, it was made clear that they had not confidence in us to guard the staff ourselves, and I believe they are correct. Our missions take us constantly to the forefront of danger, and it must be admitted that we have already lost the staff once.
We were able to come to terms, offered hospitality for a few days in preparation for our journey to the next location of our mission, and, importantly, given jurisdiction over the gnome.
Meanwhile, it seemed the other fight had not gone so well.
*A*
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Ragnarr: Whenever
These monks brew a decent beer. It makes me go all maudlin. A terrible display for a servant of Pelor, so I'll just write it down and spare my companions the horror of a weepy dwarf.
There more I travel with this group of bastards, the more I think there might be something to the idea that we're fighting against the end of the world, here. Whatever the sea slugs are up to, it seems it might be serious. (I don't know that they're slugs, but I like to think of them as slugs. Something that might be disgusting, could be a problem, but in the end maybe we'll find they can be killed by leaving out a pint of beer. It's better than thinking about them as some kind of horrible thing man was not meant to know that eats crunchy dwarves.)
If the world is ending, I'll be a bit sad that I never had the chance to have a proper son. The closest I ever got was the lad my ex-wife tried to tell me was my son. The lad that inherited all my strong, dwarvish features; the long, blond hair, no beard, the tall and skinny body, and the pointy bloody ears. And no, she hadn't noticed that that bloody Lothlander cleric has been smirking at me every time we walk by him.
You know what I'd like to do? I'd like to see that bloody whore again. Just once. I'd like to look her in the eye, and tell her that forgive her all that shit, that I wish her nothing but the best, and hope her son grows up to be everything she'd like.
That would piss her off like nothing else. And then, boom, world ends. The sea slugs can lay babies in her stomach or something.
Or she might already be working for the sea slugs. That could be nice, too. I mean, it would be unfortunate to have to execute her, but damn, what else is there to do?
I just hope she finally came clean with that poor lad, or else he's growing up the most confused half-dwarf the world'll ever see.
There more I travel with this group of bastards, the more I think there might be something to the idea that we're fighting against the end of the world, here. Whatever the sea slugs are up to, it seems it might be serious. (I don't know that they're slugs, but I like to think of them as slugs. Something that might be disgusting, could be a problem, but in the end maybe we'll find they can be killed by leaving out a pint of beer. It's better than thinking about them as some kind of horrible thing man was not meant to know that eats crunchy dwarves.)
If the world is ending, I'll be a bit sad that I never had the chance to have a proper son. The closest I ever got was the lad my ex-wife tried to tell me was my son. The lad that inherited all my strong, dwarvish features; the long, blond hair, no beard, the tall and skinny body, and the pointy bloody ears. And no, she hadn't noticed that that bloody Lothlander cleric has been smirking at me every time we walk by him.
You know what I'd like to do? I'd like to see that bloody whore again. Just once. I'd like to look her in the eye, and tell her that forgive her all that shit, that I wish her nothing but the best, and hope her son grows up to be everything she'd like.
That would piss her off like nothing else. And then, boom, world ends. The sea slugs can lay babies in her stomach or something.
Or she might already be working for the sea slugs. That could be nice, too. I mean, it would be unfortunate to have to execute her, but damn, what else is there to do?
I just hope she finally came clean with that poor lad, or else he's growing up the most confused half-dwarf the world'll ever see.
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