Alcander Day 85

Ah, praise Heracles. He has finally given me enemies I can fight.

I had a most bracing fight with a tiger, a beast not unlike the lion I slew in my iniation, but larger. Sadly, it proved why this group has need of me so heartily. The beast tossed Shaft to the ground in a single blow, and knocked Arcadius to the ground with a mighty pounce. The other members of our party are, I fear, less suitable for combat. The unpronouncable one sang, and Tupper felt that his best course of action was to try and shoot at me.

But in the face of such odds, the spirit of Heracles came upon me. I lept on the beasts back, and smote it until it flew in terror. It was a great battle, and did much to improve my mood, soured as it was by having to face the treachery of long bouts of talking and planning and few valorous deeds.

Even Flam's affliction proved to have a properly manly solution. I had offered that, should it prove to much for him, I would with great honor see to it that he had no chance to do evil. He declined my offer, as well as my offer to bind him, lest the spider take his mind. I am concerned at his lack of forethought in this, but it proved not so bad.

We took him to the cleric of Thor for healing. Though he is not my Heracles, I feel that Heracles smiles on this lesser god. For his solution to this afflition was to draw the evil presence out of Flam, and put it into a form upon which we could inflict the wrath of the gods. We were not to participate for some time (irritating, but such are the gods), but when finally Arcadius and I were allowed to fight the evil, he proved that he is, perhaps, not entirely unmanly.

The bard and Tupper, though, I'm not so sure about.

It is now my hope that the spider has entirely left Flam. I believe that his unwillingness to allow me to bind him shows that the spider gods had already begun to rob him of his honor. I can only hope that it can now be restored in full.

Prayer to Pelor - Arcadius

[written in formal script on heavy vellum]

Shine forth thy light
Drive back the darkness

Bring life where there was death
Bring growth where all was barren
Bring peace where there was strife
Bring warmth where clawed the fingers of ice
Bring mercy where there was none
Bring knowledge where there was ignorance
Bring comfort where there was fear

Let the sun rise!
Let the shadows flee!

Both in the world...
and in the minds of men

Tupper's Report to the Sable Lions (Day 72)

For Unfettered Delivery To
Cnl. Alistair Stuart
Sable Lions Headquarters, City of Point of Origin

From Lt. W. E. Tupper (Probationary):

Sir,

Alive and of sound body and mind. Nothing else of adequate plausibility to report.

-W.E.T.
[I'm an asshooollleee]

Journal of W. E. Tupper, Day 69-72

Day 69
Journied east from town following the compass, to a mineshaft with warding runes around it. Fflam offered to stay behind and guard the horses while we blundered about inside.

The entrance had a magical trap on it, exactly the sort of thing that makes you calm and certain about entering a dark spooky cave; though, besides the odd ominous rune, the place was empty. After meandering around inside the mountain, it finally opened out into a large valley; lush with trees, a small gator-laden river, and (of course) a giant blocky temple of unfathomably ancient evil in the middle of it all. You see a thing like that temple, and you don't need a spell to pick up something wrong about it. Of course the compass points towards it.

There was a campsite near the river, a campsite with a gnome. She was playing a violin when we approached and introduced herself as Pk Fz Phoriki called herself Shtoochka. She offered to join us on the basis that we were 'adventurers' and so needed someone to sing our praises or deeds or dirges or what have you. A spare sword hand is a spare sword hand, even if it's playing a tiny violin instead.

We're setting up camp in sight of the temple, because hiding from it is not an option.


Day 72
Okay.

It started about two days ago, when somebody woke us up to see the temple glowing in the dark. Something is direly wrong with one's life when omnious portents of doom become commonplace.

The barbarian was sitting outside the temple when we got there in the morning. I have been told his people are not primitive, that they are well advanced in math and the sciences. I do not care, he wears a lionskin and carries a bone club, he is a godsdamn barbarian. He claimed some "Sama Lien" pirates captured him on his way back from bumfuck nowhere, that he had only recently fought them off and swam here, and that (surprise!) there was EVIL in the temple. Oh boy.

So, we get up and into the temple proper and find a gigantic red crystal hanging over a bloodsplattered stone slab. Just once I want to enter a place and find a basket of newborn kittens or something. Even if they proceeded to lunge for my throat, it'd be a nice change of pace. Hrefna found a passageway with a trick stair, leading down into a room with strange supplies and another staircase leading further downwards.

Below that was a chilly room with nine tables and nine wrapped bodies, three of which had a gem on their chests and were apparently evil. (The bodies, not the tables. At least I don't think so.) A ledger of some kind was there as well, written in an offbeat elven script. Writing next to the bodies matched up with the kind in the ledger. This situation is eerily similar to the one with the yew tree crypt, to the point where I could have sworn I heard Moana whispering to me while I was there.

Oh yes, and while all this was going on? Alcander barged through every unknown room, opened jars of mysterious goop and tasted them, smashed the skull of a helpless being for no other reason than it was 'evil', and made a racket to raise the dead twice over. There are five-year-olds with better senses of decorum. Confront him about it, and he calls you weak. The others may put up with him due to his 'noble' beliefs, but a noble savage is still a savage.

Despite this, we figured out that removal of the wrappings got the 'corpses' breathing again. Among them was our man, the High Cleric of Thor. We opted not to unwrap the two remaining evil bodies on the basis that such acts have been traditionally more trouble than they were worth.

Soon after that, a mechanical clicking noise started up from the room above. Alcander proved he had some rare bit of intelligence by not rushing off to bash its skull in until after I had come back from scouting it out (and subsequentially finding there was a skull to bash). Some lady-corpse in a robe was waiting for us, and prepared to boot: the barbarian crashed headfirst into a magical wall. She claimed she didn't want to kill us, but it's hard to take someone with a basement full of bodies earnestly on something like that. Everyone beat up on her, she made with a spectral getaway, and we made for the exit with haste and six survivors in tow.

And then we had a merry little picnic outside the temple, and Stūckah played a merry little tune, and everyone had cake. Ha ha ha hahahahaha.

The red crystal tried to fry me on the way out, and by the time we passed the temple gates, we could hear the sound of wardrums in the forest. Instead of setting up camp, we opted to run like hell to the mine. Spent most of the night lost from the main group along with Hrogar. We all managed to make to the mine entrance though, and thusly out the other end to where Fflam was. After the longest horseride in recorded history, we made it back to town where I promptly found a flat part of my room and passed out.

The next day, which would be today, we spent recovering in ways that sleep can't help with. Arcadius bought clothes for the survivors. I gave Hrogar some money for the rental fee on the magical compass (it did work, after all) and started writing a report for ol' Leafbridge. Maybe I'll even start on that letter to Milya after this.

But the most notable event of today was the tale the survivors told.

The high cleric started off with explaining how he used the mineshaft to travel to the valley in order to gather medicinal herbs. Then another survivor spoke up and said it wasn't a mine shaft, it was a hole in the side of a dead riverbed. Then another corrected that one, and another…

Six entrances, at least, scattered around the world, all of which lead to that valley. A marvel of modern arcanistry. All to dick about with peoples' souls.

So… we're going to have to do something about it.

The setup is this. The lich-thing from the temple uses the red crystal as a halfway home for its soul. Kill its current host, the soul hops over to it and then over to the next prepared body. Hrefna figured that there are too many detection spells about to make a stealth attack worthwhile. Her plan is to destroy the crystal and kill the lich (again). But we got lucky the first time, and it'll be on alert now. But we also have six thankful souls who happen to know how to prod buttock. As for Fflam, his condition can be cured, but only with special herbs found in the valley.

So, tomorrow, we're going to escort them all back to the valley and back through their respective caves while the high cleric gathers up the needed elements. One month later, we'll meet up with them and go on to assault the temple. In the meantime, Hrogar is planning to return to Point of Origin to complete his atonement. I gave him my report so he can pass it on to HQ while he's there.

Now I need to lay back down, as my hand is cramping.

Journal of Arcadius - Day 72

Praise be to Pelor! May his light grant guidance, protection, wisdom, and patience.

For all are called for.

We reached the mountains, in search of our missing friend the Priest of Thor. We found a tunnel entrance with engraved runes. Given our position deep in the wilds, and based on prior experience, we decided to leave a guard for the horses. Fflam was the natural choice, as there were also questions as to the effects of the magic of the tunnel upon his spider curse.

The tunnel inside was strange in form, with other, unknown tunnels rising straight upward over our heads, going into unknown blackness. Upon exit from the tunnel we came to a valley that seemed in another part of the world entirely... a tropical place reminding me, however slightly, of the river delta marshes in my homeland - or at least how they might have looked before all that land was cultivated.

Far across the valley was a temple, rising up in steps against a hill slope. Deep in the heart of the valley, smoke from a campfire rose above the trees. We decided to see if that fire belonged to the Priest of Thor. We set out across a dense and difficult jungle, coming to a stream where crocodiles lay on the shores. Strange indeed. It proved to be shallow and we crossed without incident.

On the other side we met a most odd creature - a gnome it seems. She is a bard, and is a most talkative individual. We spoke with her at some length and it seemed she had come here out of curiosity. Astounding! To take such risks lightly! She has much courage. She told us she planned to go to the temple. Thus, after resting for the night, we did so together.

Then, things grew even stranger.

At the temple itself, to our shock, was Alcander! His story of how he got there and what he had been doing was almost beyond belief, and I shall not attempt to relate it in detail, but at the last he had apparently been returning by sea, and somehow reached this valley by a different route than we. There were problems with the geography of this that could not at the time be reconciled. However, the gods move things as they will, so who could say?

The temple was laden throughout with fell magics and traps, however with the aid of Hrefna and Walter-Tupper, we were able to bypass them. In an upper room was a giant evil glowing gem, hanging from the ceiling. We went down stairs and came to chambers illustrated with tales of ancient wars among elves and other beings, one side seeming to be in the service of darkness. Finally, in a lower chamber we came to a room with 9 beds. Upon them lay human forms, bound with magic. Upon them were writs, in an archaic tongue, charging them with various crimes. The body on the middle bed on each side radiated evil. Alcander charged one and crushed its head with his bone club. Instead of the crumpled dust of an undead corpse, came the gushing blood of a living being! We begged him to stop, and reluctantly he did.

We then decided to examine the other bodies, those not radiating evil. They proved to be living beings, apparently humans and elves, in states of magic torpor or sleep. Praise be to Lord Pelor and to his own god, the Priest of Thor was among them! We quickly worked to unwrap the others and free them. At this time strange sounds began to emanate from above. Walter-Tupper crept, in his stealthy way, up the stairs to investigate. There he saw an undead thing, and we knew we would have to fight our way out!

I felt the light and power of Pelor well up within me! Undead things of darkness must be destroyed! We advanced up the stairs to face it. It tried to intimidate us into surrender or flight, no doubt for its own sinister purposes. Ignoring this we charged in line. Alcander struck it a terrific and mighty blow! Though I do not always understand him, I am most thankful that he was with us once more! The undead thing wielded TERRIBLE magic - first creating illusions of itself, struck down by Shaft, then blasts of cold that smote many of our party nearly unto death. It was only by luck that I was to one side, and escaped the attack.

Those of us who still stood, continued to attack it - assisted - with surprising and impressive courage by Walter-Tupper. At any moment we expected to face our dooms as the others had. We fought well that day. As before, Oda is truly a sight to behold in battle! Even more amazing was the deadly precision of Walter-Tupper. Two or three times he struck exactly at points of weakness, rending our foe's undead flesh. Indeed, it was he who struck the last and fatal blow.

It dissipated into smoke and shadows, laughing evilly as it returned, no doubt to the jewel of evil power. We grasped that the power guarding the temple were far from broken, while we were wounded and frail. We knew we must flee with the prisoners we had rescued. There would be no time to pause.

And so we did.

A long, frenzied run through the jungle. Drums beating in the distance and the sound of strange folk in pursuit. The prisoners were like daydreamers, walking where we guided them, but witless. Walter-Tupper and Hrogar became lost, but rejoined us. We ran throughout the night, finally reaching the mountains and the tunnel entrance at dawn. Through it we fled into the healthy daylight to find Fflam and our horses intact. We rode throughout the day, utterly exhausted. Hrogar's cart proved useful in carrying the still-helpless folk we had rescued.

When we finally returned to town, glad we were that there were rooms at the inn. We slept for many hours. In the morrow, praise be to the gods, the prisoners had largely regained their wits! We discovered that they were folk of several lands, some of them very far away, and all individuals of not inconsiderable power. It seems that the valley has other entrances, and that they open by some mighty magic to places both near and far. The valley holds rich secrets, herbs and other things useful to mages, priests, and alchemists! Some seek it, willing to risk the dangers.

It was then that inspiration came to me. All thanks to Pelor for I am merely his instrument! These folk, the former prisoners, had been wrongly captured and imprisoned by the evil in the valley. They had need of their own for what else lay within that valley. Perhaps they would be willing to help us? We composed a plan, which was presented by the ever-persuasive Hrogar. If these others would return to join us a month hence, meeting us in the valley, together we could, gods willing, wipe out the evil powers within the temple! They agreed. Time will tell who can or will be there when the time comes.

May they come. This darkness must be purged! It has some role in the greater evils of the world, I think.

I swear to thee, Lord Pelor, I will be there that day.

*A*

Alcander: Day 72

The gods speak to me much more in this land, even if it is so barbaric that they do not even grasp the beauty of the body, and insist that I cover it.

The things the gods tell me while I sleep are as they always are: dim, unhelpful images of people whose location I don't know, speaking of subjects that I know nothing of. It is unhelpful, to say the least.

My companions picked up several new individuals, it seems. They found a bard, a tiny, shrill thing that I suspect may be some sort of imp of torment in disguise.

They have an elf, too, a wizard of some sort. She is quiet, unlike the tiny bard. In battle, she aided in my valiantly charging some sort of undead. I take her to be a good woman. The bard spent that particular battle singing, which is not the most valiant of actions, but I suppose it's what she does.

Then there is this Tupper fellow.

A more cowardly individual I have not known in many years. He insists that doors are not to be opened, only examined, that even stairs are to be feared, and that battles should not be faced manfully, but by skulking in the shadows. I thought he would die of his spirit giving out simply because I opened a door without first subjecting it to the kind of scrutiny a woman gives her unfaithful husband.

And his manners! He called me a barbarian, and implied that I needed a leash!

He got lost in the woods as we were fleeing the temple. I felt it was the will of the gods, particularly since Hrogar vanished with him, but the others insisted we wait.

Still, the gods somehow allowed him the final blow on that undead thing we fought. Either they have a sense of humor, or...

I have just stopped to think about it, and it makes good sense. The gods have sent me a message. Tupper is no more cowardly than I was, back before I saw the light of Heracles. Heracles is showing me that he might be a mighty warrior, if only he could be manly. And I, I have returned here. Perhaps I can show him the way.

I dislike him, yes, but I must overcome that.

The gods wish me to make him a man.

Vision in the Night

((This will be seen by every permanent member of the group--so including Hrogar, but not necessarily whoever Hrogar's replacement is))

You are walking along a rocky beach. There is no one else in sight, and the ocean breeze in the evening feels very calming. The sun is setting over the ocean to the west, and the air is cool as the last rays start to dip beneath the horizon. The sky is clear, and several stars are starting to be visible overhead.

Along the beach you can see the skeletal remains of bonfires. ((Those of you with Bardic Knowledge, Knowledge: Religion, or Knowledge: Local would know that these are the remains of the festival of the Ett-hundre dag natt--celebrated on the evening of the 100th day of the year. They must have been set in the last week, and this festival places you fairly far in the north. Perhaps in the very southern part of Jökulmær--the land to the north of the Kingdom of İzmir, and probably just north of Umeå. If you have more than 5 ranks in one of the non-bardic knowledges, you would know that this is a celebration honoring the dead and recognition of a myth about a night that lasted for over a hundred days, if you have 10 or more ranks in Knowledge: Religion please send me an email.))

After walking for a while, you come across a woman crying over something that is hidden from your vision, still in the sea.

As you start to approach, you notice pieces of coral spires in the shallows. The patterns on them are unlike anything you saw in your visions of the sunken city, and look instead to have some dialect of elvish written on them.

When you draw closer, you see that the woman is elven--with the black hair and grey-blue eyes that are common in this area of the world. She is dressed in farmer's garb, and has a spindle hanging from her belt with several strips of wool. She has on several broaches made of gold which are inlaid with various precious stones ((5 ranks Knowledge: Heraldry or Knowledge: Nobility would mark her as a minor noble or a freeman)). Her face is streaked with soot, and her hair is disheveled.

She is crying over a body.

As you get much closer, the body is clearly from a shorter elvish race. The body has puffed up slightly, but it's basic features are still clear: It is the body of a young boy with variable-blue hair, bright blue, unseeing eyes, and pale skin. The fingers and toes are webbed, and even at his young age he is heavily muscled. He is essentially naked, with snake-skin straps running over his body that look like they were meant to hold gear at one point or another. There are massive slashes into his body.

A short distance away there is a trident tangled in the thick strands of a war net. Both have blood stains on them.

The woman, through her sobs, whispers without seeming to acknowledge your presence: "When the children must pick up arms, the war is already lost..."

Alcander's Fantastic Voyage Part 9

Pirates!

What in Heracles's name are pirates doing this close to Point of Origin?

We were nearly within sight of the city when they came out of a river mouth and attacked our ship. It was full of some manner of cargo my father hoped to sell at the port. I suspect he hoped to at least make enough profit to pay for my transport.

I was asleep when the pirates attacked, or they surely would not have been successful. By the time I awoke, it was to find myself tied up on the pirate's ship, back to back with the captain of my own vessel. It seems the rest of the crew had been released, but the captain was considered worth a ransom and they took me for some manner of rare and valuable slave.

I thought that perhaps I could break through my bonds and over power the pirates, but the captain told me to wait. The cargo my father had given them was a hold full of wine. The pirates wouldn't be able to resist it for long, and then we could escape.

The pirate ship came to rest in some sort of strange forest up the river. They must have hoped to hide out there for a bit. They ignored us, not giving us food or water, but I saw one of them puzzling over my bone club.

As the day drew towards dusk, someone tapped some of the wine, and I knew my moment would draw near. The captain at my back had managed to undo our knots, having a proper sailor's knowledge of the thing, and it was only a question of waiting for the right chance.

What we had not relied on was a drunken pirate's idea of a good time. Several of the pirates decided that it would be humorous to throw the captain at them and see what would happen. In their advanced state of drunkenness, they didn't even notice that he was untied. They moved quickly, though, and the captain was over before I could stop them.

I acted then, of course. I attacked the man who had my club, and took it from him by force. I took off over the side of the boat, hoping to rescue the captain.

It was too late. There was nothing left of him but a bloody patch on the water. But the great lizards seemed sated on him, and left me alone.

Then the drums began.

The pirates took off. One of them threw my lantern at me, laughing and saying that I wouldn't need it for long. I tried to swim after them, to have revenge, but the ship was faster.

The drums came close to the river, then followed the boat. Whoever had the drums, they did not see me. I found a place to hide between some trees, and waited for the dawn.

Now the dawn has come. I have survived the night, and there is a temple nearby. I will head that way, and see what evil is at the source of the night drums.

Journal of Arcadius - Day 68

Day 62:

We learned that the way to help Fflam is to seek out our friend and ally, the cleric of Thor. He unfortunately was still missing somewhere in the north, and we had no idea of how to find him. However, Hrogar, among his many sales and deals in Izmir, negotiated a deal by which our contact the wizard would create for him a magic device... a sort of compass pointing toward the cleric of Thor. It was expensive, but Hrogar agreed to the idea. Certain members of our group agreed to partially reimburse him if it proved to work.

Day 63:

We set out for the north. We purchased horses. Given our newfound relative wealth, this wasn't a problem. I bought two light warhorses, a white one named Alabaster and a black one named Onyx. For some reason some of the others find these names, or at least Alabaster, humorous. I fear I'll never fully understand the northerners.

Day 64:

Strange and troubling events! Late at night, a spirit appeared in the form of a young elf woman who seemed to have died by being hanged. She wept and moaned and for a time ignored us, until Oda and Hrevna spoke to her in Elvish. We discovered that she her body had been imprisoned in some magical way, and thereby her spirit could not rest until it was freed by the body being burned. She provided us with a, very rough, description of where it might be located, and mentioned it was under a Yew tree.

In the meantime, those on watch woke most of us up, but apparently not Fflam, who was left sleeping in the camp by himself. While we were attempting to speak with the spirit, a wolf, in a most unnatural manner, crept into our camp by itself and stood over Fflam, ready to tear out his throat. Fortunately (or not, as shall be seen) we noticed this and charged back to camp. Some of us fired bows and seemed largely to succeed in wounding Fflam (who at that point woke up, in what must have been a spectacularly unpleasant manner) while merely annoying the wolf. However, the sight of the rest of the party charging forward convinced it to flee, which it did far faster than we could follow.

While all of this was happening, Shelre disappeared! We waited throughout the night and the following day for her to return, but she did not. Curse her! It seems we couldn't trust her after all.

Day 68:

We arrived at a northern village matching the description of the spirit. Here we faced a pleasant reception right until we began asking about old graveyards and yew trees. There IS an old graveyard, apparently abandoned about 200 years ago, and perhaps from the time before burning became universal. The villagers consider the place cursed, and questions about it only made them hostile too us, particularly Oda, who like me has trouble understanding the lack of respect on the part of common people in these north-western lands.

After some investigation, we found that there was a Yew tree in the graveyard, and at its base, a stone plate covering the entrance to an underground mausoleum. There, we found bodies arranged lining the walls in a circle, bound with rune-covered strips of cloth, and many other signs of magical purpose in the room. The place as a whole practically crackled with magic, and clearly formed a circle of power. After some discussion, we agreed to refrain from disturbing it, as doing so might unleash who knows what horrible magic.

Day 69:

We resupplied and headed toward the mountains in search of the priest of Thor. Hrogar's magical compass seemed to be working well. I am becoming more comfortable wielding the light of Pelor. May he guide me in these dark times!

*A*

Journal of W. E. Tupper, Day 62-68

Day 62
First thing we did in town was to get Fflam to the Temple of Thor. The good news is that the curse can be cured, and its effects can be slowed down in the meantime. Bad news is the only person who can cure it is the High Cleric of Thor, who is missing. He disappeared before checking in at a small town to the north called Oohmaya, and I suppose now it's up to us to find him.

Spent the evening slowly backing away from sobriety.



[Tucked between the pages:]
For Unfettered Delivery To
Cnl. Alistair Stuart
Sable Lions Headquarters, City of Point of Origin

From Lt. W. E. Tupper (Probationary)
River Dolphin Inn, Cty of Izmir

[sealed with what looks like sloppily-applied candle wax with the crooked imprint of a signet ring]

In cojunction w/ Order initiates, have found source of threa† to be druid grove in Izmir. Progenitor of attack not halted but delayed, local lav√ enforcement unable to contain. Threat may be part of larger plan, will learn more. Will aim to post reports more regulrly, but nxt report may be late again. Sorry.

Yrs,
V√, ∑. 7˜.



Day 63
The worst way to start a day is to deep fritz a status report to your superior officers while hungover and with only hours before you and your merry troupe of fools go traipsing off on another quest. But that's not really how today started, no.

It started with a vision. At first, I thought it was just a strange dream: a loosely-clad elven woman sitting in a spell circle, talking to some unseen master. Then, at breakfast, everybody talked about having the exact same dream. Great! So either some unknown force is messing with us, or… or the gods are trying to nudge us in the right direction. I think it's the former, myself. There's a lot of diversity in the group's religious beliefs, and there's probably too much paperwork involved for Pelor or whoever to project a vision into the mind of a follower of St. Cuthbert. Even if it's a trap, the least it could do is tell us where the woman is. But enough of this.

I was lucky enough to finish the report this morning and send it out. Milya's letter will have to wait until I have the time for it. Bought some food for the trip. Shaft bought a large battle-ready horse. I don't think he named it, unless its name is "Awww yeah." Hrogar rented a magical 'cleric-tracking' compass from the wizard merchant. Some of the others chipped in for the cost of the thing, but I'll withhold my donation until it's actually proven to work. For now it's pointing north, so north we go.


Day 64
Third watch spotted a moaning ghost. Most of us went out to investigate it, and when we were all looking the other way, a giant wolf came into the camp and tried to gnaw the dwarf's neck off. We shot at it and scared it off; and after we pulled the bolts and arrows out of Fflam (we shot at the beast, not the beast itself), we noticed that Shell had gone missing. Whether she had been eaten by the wolf, or whether she was scouting around for it, or whether she was the wolf and the nibbling of the dwarf was her grand betrayal didn't matter; we still had a horny dead girl on our hands.

Yes sir, this ghost wasn't moaning in the traditional 'cries of the damned' sense. Fortunately that was as suggestive as she got. She responded to elven, and told us she couldn't remember her name or how she died. She said she was out haunting random trees because she needed somebody to burn her body. I really don't want to see what shape this body is in if she's moaning like that. On the other hand, it does provide incentive to burn it as soon as possible. I promised to get the job done and she disappeared.

Now we just have to find an elven corpse underneath a yew tree. Is there a big celestial sign on our collective backs that says "Kick me?"


Day 65
Must revise travel game on the basis that we have apparently left squirrel country.

By my estimations, Stuart will be opening my report today. I expect his complete and utter disappointment in me… now. Now? Maybe later.

~

Okay, felt a cold chill in my gut during watch. It was then.


Day 66
New Rules:
Deer (or deer-like creature) - 3 points
Bear (or bear-like creature) - 5 points, 7 if it doesn't spot you
Caravan - 10 points, plus 1 point per wagon
Other travellers - 5 points
Raving lunatics - 7-15 points, depending on intent and amusement value
Highwaymen - 20 points, 25 if they're not after you.

[Tucked between the pages are two pieces of paper covered on both sides in crudely-written elven-oid script.]

Anything dead - half the normal points.
Anything undead - quarter the normal points.
Anything dead that is trying to become undead - 0 points

Getting to the point where it's more fun to invent the game than to play it.


Day 67
Is Shaft blonde? This is going to drive me crazy.


Day 68
Made it to a small town with a large graveyard. Hrogar's compass is pointing east now. Asking about town, it's safe to say the people here don't like strangers

[Tucked between the pages are four sheets with the words PAPER STRIP BINDINGS at the top, with a series of runes on it and short notes indicating locations on a humanoid body.]

and Oda even less. Graveyard is devoid of tombstones with elven names, but there is a yew tree.

And underneath this tree, I found an overgrown and booby-trapped passageway down into a 10-sided chamber full of gussied-up bodies and an altar. Nine of the walls had bunks for corpses, with what looks to be names and dates in an old elven script next to each one. All of the bodies are bound at the joints with runed paper strips, with the bones in their neck broken. The altar had pictograms with ravens observing a battlefield and nine people hanging from a yew tree. Hrefna refused to enter the place on the claim that it was cursed. Awfully nice of her to let us go in, then.

On a hunch, I looked for a set of female-looking bones with any frayed bindings. Sure enough, there was one. I reckoned it to be our Yew-tree Moana; but Hrefna's paranoia, coupled with the latent evil aura the pallies were picking up, insured that nobody was going to even move that corpse much less burn it. So much for that, then.

Staying at the local inn. Hope I don't get haunted by aroused elf ghosts.

Well not angry ones, anyway.

Exerpts From the Journal of Hrogar

The ranger has gone missing, the dwarf was nearly killed by a wolf, and a ghost asked us to aid her in finding final peace. Strange times indeed.

It started with an eventful night. Shelré noticed a light and sound from the bushes while we were on watch, and found what we eventually determined to be a ghost. The ranger went to wake the others, and as we were trying to find out who the ghost was and what she was doing there, we heard a lound noise from the camp, and arrived in time to find a wolf about to kill Fflam! We attacked, and the wolf was driven away.

However, in the aftermath, we found that Shelré was missing. We have not seen her since. I worry that she may have been hurt by the wolf, but surely she would have made some noise of struggle? Perhaps she went to hunt it down? But one would think she would have told us. And I am troubled by the discussion she privately had with me. But until I know more for sure, I will not make accusations.

After the rest of the group was accounted for, we went back and eventually communicated with the ghost through elven language. In short, she desires that her body be burned, so that she may at last be released.

We went north to continue looking for the cleric we seek out, also keeping an eye out for a graveyard the ghost spoke of that might contain her body. We found such a graveyard, and eventually discovered an ancient buriel site within it, that contained a number of bodies, placed in ritualistic places, and bound with magic wrappings. One of these, we believe, is the body that the ghost is tied to. However, I worry about following through on her wishes. These bodies were obviously placed in there for a reason, and may have committed terrible crimes, according to Hrefna. I sense that a great evil is being contained within the ground, and I fear by removing the body and burning it we will only serve to unleash yet another great evil upon the land.

For now, we are continuing our search for the Cleric of Thor, as he is likely to have information that may prove useful on the matter of the ghost and crypt. We will speak with him first, and try to make an educated decision.

Oda Day 63 - 68

Day 63
Well tonight was an interesting night. We came across a spirit that asked for our help. The spirit spoke Elvish and had showed signs that she was killed by being hung. We will need to look into this more. She claims to be in a grave yard near a yuo tree.

Well that aside, and as if that was not enough for a night while attempting to talk to the ghost we heard commotion back at the camp. We all ran back only to find a wolf standing over Flem. We where able to scare the creature off, even though I think it did less damage to the dwarf then the group did. (laughing as my character is writing about this)

What is most disturbing is our ranger has disappeared. I wish we had a way to track her down, but she was the only one amongst us that could track things down. Hopefully she will turn up tomorrow.

Day 64
Well no sign of the ranger. The group has decided to move on. I do not know I agree with just leaving, but it is not my place to lead this group and make decisions for them. We will be heading north to continue on our quest to find the priest. Perhaps we will find this graveyard on the way.

Day 65 – Day 67
Well we still are traveling north. It has been a quite and uneventful few days. Still no sign of our companion, at this point I would not be surprised if we see her again. I just hope she had some business she needed to take care. Would hate to think we left her to die.

Day 68
Well we reached a village finally. I asked around town about the ghost that we saw. The people of this land are so rude. They were making signs while moving and waving there hands all over the place. Perhaps I and taking the wrong approach in trying to gather information from these people, they seem to not show much respect to others. Perhaps I should take a more direct approach to gathering information.

Alcander's Fantastic Voyage: Part 8

By Heracles, I must be getting close.

Why is it that, in this land, Heracles is not content to speak to me when I am awake? Shouldn't the gods have to sleep sometime?

But no, he has to wait until I'm trying to rest to send me messages whose meaning is so obscure as to be nearly meaningless.

Still, I must accept this as a gift from the god. Perhaps not the most useful gift he has given me, but a gift. And perhaps one less perplexing than the other.

I can still feel the rage of the god coiled in my gut. It is the very rage that I was trained to avoid at all costs, so that I could avoid the errors of Heracles. Now, I learn that avoiding the rage was all children's rules, things that are told to novices in the true way of Heracles.

The true secret I now know. The cleric tells me that, once strong enough, the true follower of Heracles can control the rage. It is only taught after years of careful training, after being absolutely sure that one is ready to use the rage in ways that will only cause benefit, and no harm.

Yet I have this ability. Even lacking all training, I have it.

I must be favored of Heracles indeed. I of course must endeavor to use the gift wisely, but it would be foolish to squander the gifts that the gods have given me. This, at least, is a gift whose purpose seems clear! This is a vision in the daylight, as when Heracles first called me, a gift with only one purpose.

For now, I must return to sleep, and hope that perhaps Heracles sends some clearer message this time.

Alcander's Fantastic Voyages Part 7

News travels faster than I do, it seems.

I was met by the cleric on the road home. He heard what I had done, and feared for my life should I return home.

He had my lion skin with him, my club and my lantern. He told me that they were now mine, and that none could command that I give them up.

He gave me the spell of atonement for my vows. It seems that, in Heracles's eyes, I have done what is right.

But my vow of obedience was troublesome, now. Those that I would obey have betrayed me.

The cleric said that he had the answer to this, too, but it would required proper initiation.

This he did. I cannot write of what occured. The cleric said that the true Rites of Heracles had been driven underground my order, except for a small group of Heracletians who had fled to Crete. These vows he taught me.

He taught me that I owe my vow to no man, save him that I find worthy.

I offered him my obedience, but he declined, saying only that I must be gone from Greece, and quickly. The city which I rescued can serve as a bastian against the order, but the order is still strong and I am unready.

He said, too, that if the comrades I left behind failed in what they attempted, then any success in Greece would be meaningless. I would not argue with him, so I agreed to go.

He gave me a note to take with me. He told me to go to the nearest port and find a ship sailing for Point of Origin.

The note was the greatest surprise of all. It was from my father, assuring me of safe passage on any of his ships, and commanding his men to head wherever I asked them.

There was a letter from him within the note, too. That he brought the rites back from Crete.

That he brought my club and skin out from the order. That he could not tell me his true intentions, for as a paladin I could not lie for him, and secrecy was needed.

By his lies, I have my freedom and my passage to where I must be.

It cannot be honorable, I think, but can it be good?

I will have much to think about on the voyage.

I can only hope that, some day, I will be able to set foot in my home land again. Perhaps this time I can liberate more than a single city.

Next time, I must face the rest of the order.

Alcander's Fantastic Voyages Part 6

The battle is over.

We won.

Not the Knights of Heracles, but the men of this town.

It makes me more sure than ever of something of which I had been unsure. The spirit of Heracles is no longer with those who claim to be his knights. But it is with me, thanks to that cleric.

By the gods, I don't even know his name, but he may have saved me. I feel closer to the god than ever before, though I would rather it had come a different way.

In the order, I was always taught that the rage of Heracles was a curse, that to grow closer to Heracles I must avoid the anger which was his birthright. I was lied to.

The battle was close. The Heracletians came upon us in the morning, and many of those who needed to guard the town were not yet awake. Men ran to rouse them, but we needed something to slow the Heracletian advance until they were awakened.

I volunteered. Several men agreed to go with me, to buy the city some time. It was suicide, but we went.

I stood in the morning sun and let the men advancing see what I wore. The very sight made some men stumble, and then we charged.

I cannot recount fully what happened. I felt something come over me that I had never felt before. A rage, a blind fury that these wretched imposters would claim to be stewards of Heracles. There was no more honor, no sense of justice, only vengeance on behalf of the god.

Vengeance I got. When I came to my sense, the skin I wore was soaked in blood, and the men of the city were victorious.

Of the men who led the charge, only I was still alive.

The Knights of Heracles have been defeated, and this city may now stand as a bastion for those who would fight against the false Heracletians. It is a great victory.

And a great victory for me. For I have tasted the wrath of Heracles, and I have found it to be mighty.

I wonder, though, precisely what it means.

For now, I return to meet with the cleric again.

Perhaps he will have answers for me.

Alcander's Fantastic Voyages Part 5

The Order of Heracles seeks to control Greece.

This is madness.

I knew, of course. But I knew the same way that most know that a life of drinking, gambling, and women will destroy a man. It's easy to say, it's easy to know, but it is quite another thing to find oneself lying face down in the gutter with a burning need to see a cleric and smelling of vomit and wine.

Heracles showed me the truth that time, and he shows me it now.

The cleric made it clear. He tells me that there are more things that he can tell me, things that I need to know. But too many Heracletians have proven themselves to have forgotten the true path, so he must first be certain of me.

The Heracletians seek to control Greece.

This is no longer simply an idea. There are many city-states that oppose them, of course, and so far the order has tried to deal with them by coercion and promises. But there are still hold outs.

This time, they've sent an army.

A small army, mind you, but it is a small city-state.

Once again, my legs ache in the service of Heracles. Once again, I have found myself rushing to rouse a populace from their slumber, to prepare to defend themselves from a menace.

I never would have imagined the menace would one day be my own order.

I had to go the long way around, avoiding the main roads. The Heracletians have gained such power that only a Heracletian can travel openly. The cleric gave me a plain lion skin to wear, and a plain club. It is not my own, but at least it is not the gem-encrusted shit my superiors gave me. So long as I avoided the army, none questioned me. And where they did, I told them plainly that I was a Knight of Heracles, and that I was sent on a mission by the god himself. Because, damn it, it is still the truth. I will not call myself by what I am simply because it has been spoiled by imbeciles who have forgotten the face of their god.

Even taking back roads, a man on foot travels far faster than an army, even a small one. I reached the city ahead of the army.

I found the city in the midst of preperation, but they thought they had months yet before the battle would be joined. They know better now.

As I sit here, they prepare furiously, knowing that they may die when the battle comes. They are resigned to their death, if it must be, rather than bowing before these false Heracletians.

They may worship other gods, but never have I seen such valor, not even among my fellow knights. They prepare to fight and die, knowing that they die for the right.

Soon, it will be known that I stand against the Heracletion Order, because I must. The priest advised me to warn the city and be away, but I cannot.

It will be my great honor to die here among these brave souls.

Even if it means fighting my own order.

Journal of W. E. Tupper, Day 58-61

Day 58
I decided to check for any messages left for me with the tavernkeeper before we left town for the mine. The first one was a stern reminder from Colonel Stuart, stating that if I fail to report in by the next two-week marker (which would be Day 66, by my reckoning) then I will be counted as missing and the Sable Lions will respond accordingly. No actual mention of what they would do, but I'd be willing to bet it'd be something along the lines of shrugging and muttering something about scumballs. Well, Benton would at least. The other one was from Captain Sallambier, and I intend to save it for later. I must be sure to send letters back to both of them once we return to town.

Tally for today is 16.


Day 59
Eventually I am going to get used to these long days.

First, the passage to the coral gateway in the mine was mortared shut from the inside. The only other way through was the part of the mountain inhabited by the caravanserai. They charged us an arm and a foot, but they let us through. Then, there was nothing. No coral gateway, no crazy seacoast witches, and the others noted that the place appeared to have been looted further since they were last here. There was still a painting on the wall, though; one of the sunken city. Hrefna was shocked by it, but I just found it to be creepy.

Then, then there were the driders. We tripped an alarm when we were looking around, and two giant gray centaur-spider things decided to escort us out in little chunks. They shot web at us, which is expected from spidery creatures. The webbing was flammable, which was not expected. They used flanking maneuvers, which meant they were smart enough at least to follow orders, which is downright terrifying. I don't want to think about facing down an organized army of these things.

And then, oh then there was the drow woman.

Hrefna scryed up the presence of a single person in the sleeping quarters. I went in to sneak up and knock her out, so we could interrogate her; she shut me down completely. She told us in no uncertain or friendly terms that she is the owner of the mine, and that we should leave lest harm befall us. On our way out, Hrogar got burnt by a fire trap and I had to shake off the sensation of thousands of little spiders all over my skin. Drow humor, it's a riot.

Oh yes, and we can't forget the brigands. Once we got outside, we found a man ogling our horses. He offered to buy one, as he claimed he was travelling far and in need of one. We all refused his offer, and he went on his merry little way back to his lackey-laden camp where he rallied them all to ambush us. Fortunately Shell had been stalking him the whole time and told us their plan. I managed to work out a reasonable strategy of attack, and we set forth to ambush the ambushers. It would have worked, too, if we hadn't taken so long in preparation that they moved their setup closer up the road to us. Nonetheless, we they dispatched the thieves without a hitch. I did not contribute much to the effort save for the quiet molestation of a tree. We set up for the night in our would-be murderers' camp.

Tally for today is 75. Hah.


Day 60
Today was… well at least fewer bad things happened. It started with Fflam's skin looking grayer than it did yesterday. Hrefna's pocus told her it's because he's under the curse of the drider. However comforting it is to know that those things aren't breeding in a tunnel somewhere, the fact that you can be cursed to become one distinctly negates that comfort.

We're returning to Izmir with all due speed. I'm riding behind Fflam in the group just in case he spontaneously transforms and deigns to kill the first thing he sees.

Do driders have eyes in the back of their heads? Oh hell.
Tally for today is 2, I think.


Day 61
In all of the ruckus of the past few days, I had forgotten about Milya's letter. She wrote to say she is well; that she's hoping I'm alright, that the late report has a very good reason to be late that isn't my gory demise, and that I return before spring is over as she wants to go to the St. lEG'lgg Day festivities with me. Apparently Stuart's been missing me since I left, which she can only attribute to the fact that I'm out of range of his crossbow. Hah.

S[heavily scratched out] a She's met a book merchant. His name is Art. He set up shop out in the Scoops not long after I left, and he just so happens to share her interest in dwarven long-form mining epics. It sounds like they are getting along well.

Oh yes, and Fflam has yet to turn into a gibbering monster from the depths of nightmare. Good for him.

Exerpts from the journal of Hrogar

This morning I awoke from a strange dream. A young elvish woman, or a drow perhaps? She was within some kind of ritual circle, it appeared, communicating with something or someone. It seemed she was being commanded to do something she did not want to do, but I know not what command or commands she was given. However, on her arm, I saw that she had markings or tatoos that were similar to the carvings we've seen on pillars related to the sunken city before. Whatever is going on with her, it seems tied to our quest.

The next thing to do I suppose is investigate who this woman is, where she is, and what it was she was commanded to do. But where to start, I am not quite sure. We could follow up with the drow family we rescued earlier and help them with defeating their enemy family, as that would likely get us to the realms of the drow where this girl may be, assuming she is indeed a drow. I had previously been hesitant to help in a war that was not ours, but recent events have made me less averse to attacking said enemy family, what with one of their leaders putting a curse on our comrade, Fflam, that is slowly turning him into a Dreider.

However, we were going to try to find the High Cleric of Thor that we've had dealings with earlier, as he appears to have gone missing (not to mention that he may be able to cure Fflam's condition). Should we abandon that quest for this potential other one? The quest to find the Cleric may take weeks to accomplish, do we have that much time?

Either way, I'll have to discuss this with the others. Perhaps we will have to split up to cover more ground in less time. The others have been averse to such ideas before, but this time we may not have a choice.

I will meditate further on this dream, and speak to the others about it when the time is right.

Dream

Deep within the earth, an apparently young elf with pale skin and black hair weeps. The air charged with electricity, and smells of dampness and death. She sits in the middle of a series of concentric rings, each one engraved with a set of runes. The room is lit with a dim red glow of a luminous fungus. The woman is wearing robes which cover her arms and legs, but her cowl is drawn back, showing a face lined with tears.

"What would you have of me?" She asks the darkness, burying her face in her hands, "what have I done to deserve this..." She chokes as she talks, every word a struggle as she fights back sobs.

Runes flash on the ground, bright purple in color. They flash in a sequence, but if they are communicating a message you cannot tell what it is, and the woman doesn't seem to be looking at them.

She shudders when the sequence finishes and runs her hand through her hair, tears streaming down her face. As she moves her hand, her sleeve falls away, revealing a series of intricate tattoos that resemble the carvings on the pillars from the sunken city.

A light breeze stirs the air, and she seems to regain her composure. Staring off into the darkness, she slowly closes her eyes and whispers "I will do what you ask."