Ragnarr: Whenever

Woman. That's what's missing from this adventuring nonsense.

I mean, you listen to the stories, and you figure that a lot of it's got to be shit. I mean, it can't possibly all be grand heroics, charging blindly into battle and defeating the enemy no matter what the odds, and no mention of nearly starving to death and sleeping on rocks every night.

But the stories always have elven princesses getting rescued from savage dungeons. Now I haven't got too rosy of glasses, so you figure it's not really elven princesses. Perhaps it's really average looking, fully clothed bar maids who were being paid incredibly little to do the bandit's laundry, who will be happy just to see her hated employer skewered. And perhaps she won't exactly fall into her arms, but she's got to have a sister or a mother or something who's happy to see her free.

And even if it doesn't happen every time, there's still got to be enough ladies that one, just one, might pass over the swarthy, shiny, stick up the arse paladin for an the older, shorter type. I know most tall women don't go for the type, but some do.

But where are they? I never would have thought I'd spend all of my adventuring days in places where it's impossible to even buy myself a woman.

I never thought I'd find that I'd be in a position that would give me less opportunities to interact with ladies than being a servant of Pelor. I mean, sure, I spent the huge majority of my time healing folks. And it would have been wrong to bed any of the women I healed, though every now and then they, too, had a sister who was happy for the healing. Of course, Pelor knows I always did my best to resist that kind of entanglements. Surely Pelor gives credit for trying.

But there was always that certain sort of noblewoman, usually widows, who wanted to give to the cause of Pelor but wanted something more, wanted to feel like they were participating. Usually women trying to work off the guilt of having themselves cured of a particularly strong parasite they'd picked up from a lover. The kind of woman who didn't want to just hand over a bag of gold, but who wanted a night out on the town, so to speak, visiting the sick and the poor incognito (though never touching them. That would have been too much to ask.) before returning to their homes, where they wanted nothing more than to feel like they'd touched the poor second hand, through you.

I bloody hated it. Raising funds was the worst part of the job. But if my discomfort would buy a hundred peasants food for the winter, I wasn't going to say no.

I never would have thought I'd miss that. But at least it was something.

Out here there's been nothing but that gnome woman (a bit short for my taste, and needed to calm down a bit) and the ranger who's with us now (whatever it is that makes her so damn crazy. Besides, I think she prefers the wolf).

And now we finally meet a few women, and what do we find? They're monks. Literally. And we tried to kill them earlier.

I should have found some whores before we left the city. At this rate, I can't wait to meet some undead. I feel like I'll demolish them with nothing but the fire shooting from my loins.

It's enough to make me miss my ex-wife. Bastards.

Giornale di Aurelia

That was an awful fight. Jacob and Tupper went in the Fortress. I should have gone with them. I was almost useless outside. My arrows were not flying true this day. Maybe that is a good thing though, with all we have learned.

Arcadius, Fflam, and Chris were up on the battlements. Ragnarr was healing from a distance, and I was at a distance with my bow. Mayhap I should learn some hand to hand. At any rate, they were taking out the Mages on the battlements when all of sudden, the men we were fighting dropped arms.

It turns out, the Monks and Mages have not been here all that long and a certain gnome had come here hoping to find his allies. These fine folks were fighting us to protect what we had come to retrieve so that we may protect it. All this came about because they had put Tupper and Jacob in a cell with the gnome.

The Monks handed the gnome into our hands. It took a lot of discussion, but we eventually agreed that the only way to stop this gnome was to execute him. After much ritual, Arcadius carried out the sentence.

The staff is being kept here for safe guarding and we shall keep in touch with the Monks.

It appears now that our journey shall carry us across the deserts. I did not expect this task from Hercules to take me from the beautiful green and occasionally snowy forests, to both extremes of a desert of snow and deserts of sand.

Journal of Lt. Tupper, Day 205

Day 205
The gnome is dead.

I never even knew his name.

We debated it at length. Ragnar wanted to put him under a geas, I wanted to bring him back to a real jail, and Arcadius wanted to behead him (well guess who the hells' in charge here). For all the good it does us, it's the best plan of action. He already proved capable of escaping common imprisonment, he's clever enough to work around any sort of geas, and if he had gotten back to his allies he could have told them where the staff is. At least we didn't make light of the deed. Arcadius held a long and somber ceremony before hacking his little head off and burning the corpse. I just can't shake the feeling I'll suddenly come up with some humane solution that would have kept him alive and the staff safe. There had to have been one.

As for one of our myriad missions… The cliff from the vision, the one where the soul of Herakles' bastard child is being held, is close to the fort, or at least closer to it than Izmir. The major cities of this region are to the south, and so south is where we are heading.

Wonder how Cogmer is doing.

Journal of Lt. Tupper, Day 204b

~
Well, that was unnecessarily painful. Needless to say, I am very much alive at this point (though it came in doubt several times in short succession during the past few hours). The plan was for Jacob and I to infiltrate the rear of the fort through a teleport spell and grab the staff, and for the rest of the group to provide a diversion at the main gate. Naturally this led to a rhinoceros and then imprisonment for both of us. The others fared a lot better. Eventually we all stopped hitting each other long enough to figure out the other side wasn't all that nasty, and a truce was called.

The fort belongs to a secret and ancient order of quasi-monks who task themselves with keeping the balance between good and evil. They came into possession of the staff after that illusionist came to them with it (apparently he thought they were someone else). They've been securely storing both the staff and the gnome since then. Oh yes, and they're not actually keen to kill us. That's my favorite part of all of this.

Only snare is, we can't take the staff with us. Admittedly, they've proven capable of guarding it far better than we did, and so we've agreed to keep in touch with each other by means of a communication rod. They are willing to relinquish the gnome to our custody. We've been debating on what to do with him, Ragnar says he's going to pray on the subject tonight.

Now, if you will excuse me dear spellbook, I will find a nice flat area to not bleed out on. The novelty of that may well shock me into unconsciousness.

Aurelia's Grand Adventure! or: How she came to join the party! Pt 3

The weather while sailing has been smooth. Well, for the most part. I, however, have stayed below decks with a bucket by my side. Being incapacitated by my inability to move without disgorging the contents of my stomach is really not a pleasant feeling. It does, however, give one time to think.

I remember when I was little, my Mamma always said I was destined for a life bigger than a shepherd's wife, which is what I would have become had I not followed Diana. I always thought a Ranger in service of Diana, a close relationship to my Goddess was what she had meant. I never had dreamed as a little girl that my life would lead me away from the world I know and love to this frozen, forbidding land.

When I pledged myself to Diana, I knew that my will would be as hers. I knew I would never take a husband. I knew that for the rest of my life, I would honor the hunt and the wilderness. While I knew of and respected the rest of the Pantheon, I did not expect that their wills would also be as closely tied to mine.

I pray that Diana assists me in keeping the beauty of nature in my heart, but also does not let me forget the danger that that beauty keeps.

From The Journal of Jacob Cayle

Well, alls well that ends well, or so they say. No one died, and it seems that the staff is in safe hands (or as safe as we can hope). This means I can reflect on recent events.

I really must make a point of summoning more rhinos in the future. Summoning monsters to do my fighting in general seems an excellent strategy, and I see the key is to know what to summon in what situation. I've relied too heavily on elementals, when I should be making more careful choices, since I can only summon one creature per day. Perhaps I should try summoning each of the creatures that I can summon on days when we take pause and are unlikely to need such for fighting purposes. This way, I can see what their various strengths and weaknesses are.

In other matters, we're heading off into the desert on another quest. One of these days, however, I really must investigate this "Valley Between Many Places" which we have visited a number of times now. How such a place was created, and why, are matters I would greatly like to know more about. And where else does it reach to? Perhaps it's purpose is one that may aid us? Could each exit place one near each of the fortresses that we seek? I could see a mage such as Chris making great use of such a valley. Teleport, as I understand it, can only cover a distance of around 1000 miles, generally. And these fortresses may be many thousands of miles apart. But if they are all within 1000 miles of an exit from the valley, one could travel between all of them within a day and using only two uses of the spell.

While that may not be the exact purpose of the valley, I'm sure that it's exits are not placed haphazardly. Whoever (or whomever) created it, it required a lot of time and energy to create. And I'm sure the various exits and entrances are placed for a reason. Although I must also consider, based on the differences between the two tunnels I have used thus far to enter or exit the valley, that the valley may be the work of a great many entities. Perhaps whenever a wizard of enough power want's access to an easy method of travel, they simply create their own entrance to the valley.

Hypothesis aside, once I get a chance, I will have to take some time to do some serious investigation of the valley (I must make note to get some Roc repellent. Like a necklace of fireball spells). I will no doubt have to take my leave of the paladins, but perhaps it's for the best. I don't entirely like or trust their ways. Far quicker to violence than I like. And that's saying something when it bothers me.

From The Journal of Jacob Cayle

So, I'm sitting in a jail cell with Tupper and that blasted gnome illusionist (I haven't let Tupper beat him, yet, because I don't want to piss off the monks, but it sure is tempting...)

Anyway, as soon as I saw the gnome, I realized that these monks we were fighting weren't the enemies we thought they were. I mean, we thought they were in league with the gnome, and here he was, imprisoned the same as we were. Which means they no doubt thought we were his allies and are fighting us on the assumption that we're part of the forces of evil that we thought they were part of. In other words, it was a complete misunderstanding. These Paladins seem to live by the philosophy "attack first, ask questions later" because I seem to have noticed this scenario happening a number of times. Ah well, hope they've learned their lesson this time.

So hopefully a guard will listen to calls for discussion, and we can end this battle before someone dies...

Ragnarr: Day Post Execution

This morning, a man was killed, because I agreed to it.

It's been a while. Since I was fighting plague in Rockstone. A hell of a way to go home, that.

I can't help but think that this has a lot in common with that plague. Only with the whole bloody world.

Then there were folks dying, too many. So many that the clerics of the plague lord came out of wherever they were hiding to help us, swearing that it wasn't their doing. I imagine they feared they'd be held to blame for it, strung up and beaten when all was said and done. Still, they helped.

Them and every other cleric who could get there fast enough. While I was still with Lucas. Still young and barely out of the caves, glad of the sunshine, and with no bloody clue what it meant when I begged him to let me go with him, to fight the plague.

The last time I saw my mother, too. After a long walk through the city, seeing the dead lying in gutters, the stink of rotting held in by the tunnels, and all she can say is "You look so glum, lad. Your's might be the last face these people see. Cheer up."

I did what I could, but it wasn't much. Tried to look happy for those poor bastards.

But it was already too late. Too many dead and too tight of space. Those tunnels sealed the plague in, let it spread too fast. I couldn't even heal yet, and even those who could couldn't cure folks as fast as it spread.

Until that bastard showed up. A priest of some evil god or other. Demanded that every family be locked in their homes with a few weeks food. No one was to be allowed out until they'd all been cured.

Only it took two months. The guard was cured first, so they could enforce the quarantine, and they did their jobs. I don't know how many died that way, and how many just sat in their homes and starved.

And my own mother, last on the list. I couldn't get her moved. It was felt that it would have been unfair.

Two months of carrying bodies to be burned. Two months where I got the plague more times than I care to think about. Spent more time being healed of the plague than anyone, I suppose.

Until we came to my mother's house. The last bloody section of the whole damn city.

And there's my mother, sitting in the dark house, the bodies of my brothers around her, and all she can say is "Why do you look so sad?"

And this, this is just bloody like that.

Except that it's the whole damn world that's got the plague. But I can't help but thinking that the only way we're going to beat these damn things is to lock up every single bastard we come across, and find a way for them to prove that they're brains not under control.

Short of that, I just don't know.

Journal of Lt. Tupper, Day 203-204a

Day 203
Ported in today. Chris came up with the idea of the 'traveling teleport,' in which the distant portion of the group covers the distance between the town and the cave entrance on foot during the day, and he conjures over part of the Izmir portion each night. It's very clever and it's given me ample time to study up on magic in the comforts of a major city. I don't think I'll mention this to the others.


Day 204
Last night we beat the multi-nostriled snot out of a hydra. It's not dead, but it's not moving anymore.

On our way through the cave, we found that somebody's been traipsing through there with less care than the Jangle Brigade: the tripline I found on a previous visit had been sprung. The temple is now covered in vines, interesting but not readily comprehensible. After traveling out of the valley through an old mine, we came out into another valley. This one has a fort instead of a temple, very exotic. Fort has only one entrance, no guards, no tracks to or from it, or any secret passageways in the surrounding terrain. Apparently there is a protective magical field in effect around it, but no obvious source (aside from the fort itself).

This was not to say we were alone. A monk made herself known by leaping out and breaking my nose in five places, and then what could only have been the illusionist started trapping some of the others in imaginary prisons. They fled before we could effectively strike back. Still, we're all alive and that's always good, though Ragnar is… angry and large about it. It's likely that the attack was merely a diversion to draw us away from the fort. After all, if they can move that fast, why attack us and get our attention instead of just fleeing?

We're going out now to check out the fort interior. If my journal ends here, I am likely dead. Return this journal to Brigadier-General A. Stuart at Point of Origin for a reward.

From The Journal of Jacob Cayle

Date: Different Day, Same Crap.

So we played teleportation - leap frog to get closer to where we think the staff is and of course decided to leave the healer back in town as the last to come, so that when we fought the frigging Hydra we didn't have anyone to heal us. But we defeated it, finally. Although it seems to be slowly healing, so I get this bad idea that we'll have to fight it again. Won't that be delightful.

Then we headed into the valley with all the portals leading toward it. I would like to investigate the tunnels that go up someday, and see if they lead to other valleys or strange places, but that will have to wait till we aren't running to the next adventure (seems we never have time to pause and accomplish any of that stuff).

So we get back into the valley with that damnable Roc. Some day I will wield power enough to cook that thing in mid-air. But not today. So for now I kept my head low and we made it through the valley without any particular problems. Seems the temple from last time may not have been used since then.

So now we're trying to figure out what to do to get into this fortress and steal the staff back. Personally, I'd like to try just dimension-door inside with Ragnarr pointing me in the right direction. A quick attempt may catch them unprepared, but no-one in this group seems to like any of those "thinking on your feet" plans where we just go for it. Mind you, I can't blame them. Seems like whenever we try those, we end up failing utterly every time. But then we tend to fail a lot of the time when we do plan, so I'm not sure which is worse for us. And knowing my luck, any attempts to dimension-door into that fortress will get me stuck in there unable to get out, or get me stuck somewhere worse and unable to get out. Makes me wonder why I devoted myself to magic in the first place when it seems anyone who doesn't just brute-strength it gets smacked down by the universe.

Boh!

I have given up trying to even remember what day it is. I never paid attention until I started this journey, so why should it matter now?

Today we went through the valley that they all spoke of. Tropical. Very green and beautiful. But apparently there are pygmies that attack if you stay through the night. Tupper is not completely useless. Between the group they remembered trip wires and Tupper was able to find it, though it had been tripped by someone before us.

From what Ragnarr knew of the valley and my wilderness skills, we were able to navigate through to another entrance to the valley.

Once through there, we found a fortress that seemed to be abandoned. I searched the surrounding areas and found no tracks except my own. Tupper investigated and found no doors other than the main entrance.

I wanted to go knock. They kept talking about Jacob flying and seeing what he could see from above and all the talk was just getting annoying, so I started walking. Whatever is in there knows we are here, no matter how we much reconnoiter. Arcadius got me to agree to waiting over night at least, so that Chris may regain spells. I agreed.

That did not stop us from getting our culo handed to us by a monk.

Teleport (Chris)

I must say, teleport is a wonderful spell. I used the spell to take our group closer to the caves and there by eliminating a few days of travel. This is great news, because we need to track down the staff and get it back as soon as possible. We are headed to a strong hold, which we can use the caves in the valley to get us their quickly. With traveling during the day we should be able to get to the caves and teleport everyone out here in 4 days. Anyways I am going to try and learn some more spells while we are out here.

Hmm. In the future, bring the cleric with me earlier when teleporting people. I say this because we ran into a hydra today, and Ragnarr was still in Ismer. Thankfully we pulled through and stopped the hydra for now. We need to find a way to truly kill this thing, but we do not have time for it right now.

Tomorrow we head into the valley. I have been told this is a home of a necromancer mage and a group of pigmies. So I am going to prepare a lot of area spells. Hopefully we can get in and out of there with little or no issues.

Ragnarr: Day Before Getting Monkslapped

We've left town. The Seneschal was never in. He had a note left with his secretary that said that he was looking into the staff problem. I hope that he's been out just because it's a tricky problem that requires his full attention and not, say, because he's stumbled on a vast conspiracy that goes above his head and now he's lying dead in a ditch somewhere, or locked up in an asylum. Though considering how today's gone, I feel we ought to check up on him and make sure he's alright.

Because the bastards are always one step ahead of us. It's as though our enemy is an ancient force that's been planning this for thousands of years, cautiously preparing for every eventuality. Or like they know precisely what we're doing, and what manner of battle would give us the greatest trouble. Like there was some greater god, above even Pelor, who delighted in tormenting us, to see what we'll do and laugh at us squirm.

I once met an elf who claimed to follow such a god. He called him Dathilathililavid, Lord of Dungeons or some such nonsense. He felt that our world was only a story being told by that god, and we were mere players in it, and our sufferings were his joy.

He was not the most mentally stable of fellows, but sometimes I wonder if he was on to something.

Because we've found the bandit fort. Only there's no bandits. Or anybody. Just some mist. We know the staff is in there, or at least it is until someone teleports it somewhere else and the price I paid was for nothing.

We'll have to attack in the morning. The best plan anyone has is to create a ruckus at the gate, while Jacob, myself, and perhaps one other teleport in through the back and find the staff. It's risky, perhaps deadly, but I don't know what else to do, and the Paladin bastards that are supposed to have studied this sort of thing don't seem to have any other idea how to go about assaulting a keep with, apparently, no one in it.

Pelor give me patience, and grant us victory.

It seems we'll need all the help we can get.

Journal of Arcadius - Day 204

The Staff and the Valley

We must retrieve the staff from bandits, who have a fort in a far land that can be reached through the Valley of many places. It would have been a weeks journey or more from Izmir to tunnel that leads to the valley, but Chris's magic teleported us in stages to the region near there, and as he did so, we advanced further on foot. The first two nights were relatively uneventful.

The third was far from uneventful.

In the foothills, we were attacked by a powerful hydra, one that could regrow heads as the old tales claim, and even regenerate from massive amounts of harm. We overcame it, but took much injury as Ragnarr was the last to be teleported and was not yet with us.

Even Chris's Ice Storm spell did not fully destroy the thing. We left its pieces scattered, but it will return in time.

In the meantime, we have work to do.

Ragnarr joined us, healed us with the power of Lord Pelor, and we set forth. The cave was much as it had been, save the tripwire had been tripped by someone. The valley beyond was similar, even Jacob's foe, the Roc, was there. However, the ziggurat was apparently abandoned and already well overgrown with vines. Astonishing.

Ragnarr, with the aid of Pelor's servant, knew exactly where to go. We crossed the valley, entered a mine tunnel on the other side, and emerged in the land of our destination. It is a chilly windswept place, with dry plains, rocky hills, and a vast range of mountains in the distance.

The bandit's fort is a small edifice with low walls, a few ramshackle towers, and perhaps space for a hundred soldiers. However, it looks deserted. We know it cannot be. Walter-Tupper scouted around the fort and found no secret entrances or tunnels, and also no one on guard. However, aided by Chris's magic, with true sight he saw a strange mist in the center of the place. Aurelia did a wider search of the hills near the fort, looking for trails or signs of foraging. She found none.

It is likely they know we are here.

Lord Pelor, I shall be as a sword in your hand.


*A*

Journal of Lt. Tupper, Day 192b-202

But enough pleasantries. Miranda says the staff is in the hands of the illusionist now, and that it is essential to battling whatever evil we're facing now. Nobody in town knows about it, and it's highly likely that little bastard teleported away. Ragnar has a plan to contact a spiritual higher-up on it's current whereabouts tomorrow.


Day 193
Oi. And I thought Herakles was bad.

So we conjure up the angel of Pelor, and Ragnar makes a request for information. In order to execute Ragnar's request, we have to travel to another plane of existence and fetch a vial of water. This may be the silliest thing we've ever done. We'll need methods of breathing and flying, since this plane isn't big on such crazy concepts as "land" or "air." Fortunately, Tolliver the wizard can rent out to us the tools for just such functions, and he threw in a fork for good measure. And if we find something 'interesting' while we're over there, he'll waive the rental fees.

We set forth for the beyond tomorrow. Aerialla's staying behind for some reason. I know not all elves are aloof, but she's working to make up for that.


Day 194
I am tied to two dwarves over an infinite chasm. This is not a way to sleep.

The trip was instantaneous, bright, and… misty. We 'landed' 319 miles away from our target destination. There is no observable 'top' or 'bottom' to this place. I've done my best not to look down, but it happens sometimes and gives me the shakes.

Then the voices started. They interrogated us, one by one. Ragnar managed to make a deal of some sort with them, and wrangled expedited transit as part of it in the form of a strong wind. Now I know how leaves feel. By the end of the day, we all smelt like wet dogs, and I had to slap my legs to keep them awake.


Day 197
Oh ye gods.

We found the island today; a craggy, buzzy sort of place with a pond. Attempts to acquire the sample went as expected, at first. Eventually a medium of communication was established and yet another deal was struck, but this one was vicious. Ragnar gave up a finger, a whole finger, for something that wouldn't quench your thirst at a meal. Apparently it can't be grown back, either.

With the much-vaulted fluid (and a number of rocks and moss) in our grasp, we returned to our home plane, to an island 226 miles from Izmir. Chris says he can ferry us back via a teleport spell, but it'll take a couple days to move us all. In the meantime, we are staying at a nearby orc village and Ragnar is getting properly sloshed.


Day 200
Back and safe in Izmir. This is the weirdest week I This is the third teleport spell I've been through this week, assuming you can count the plane-hopping one. I always have this niggling fear that I'll come out on the other side upside-down. It's never happened before and I'd probably survive if it did, but still.

The Angel of Pelor came around to pick up the vial, and told Ragnar the location of the staff. We'll have to travel to the Valley of Many Places (or whatever it's called) and from there to a bandit fort. Chris' teleports can halve the travel time to the destroyed town near the entrance to the valley, but it will still be 3 days until we all get there, and we'll be without horses on the other side.

Meanwhile, the seneschal has gone out somewhere to try and help us reacquire the staff. Frankly I don't trust him, and I have the feeling we'll have to bail him out of danger, assuming he's even close to the same trail we're on.

Journal of Arcadius

Of Purpose and Sacrifice

Truly, Ragnarr is of great heart. Given the loss of the staff, bold steps were called for. Little would I have imagined how bold. Ragnarr sought help from those of the planes beyond, those in service to Lord Pelor.

A service was asked of him - to claim a bit of water from a certain pool, a pool on the Plane of Mist.

At great expense we procured magic items needful for such a journey from the mage in Izmir. He is a man of prudence and judgment, if not generosity. Upon arrival at the Plane of Mist, we were almost immediately confronted by a powerful being that was at least a lord, if not the lord, of the plane.

It told us we were unwelcome.

After much unfruitful conversation, it demanded service from us in return for refraining from attack. Ragnarr, showing a sense of duty worthy of my homeland, took on all six services himself. May none ever doubt his courage and character.

I pray that the mist lord is not hostile to our greater cause.

It turned out that the pool was a great distance away, hundreds of miles. In return for getting us gone from his plane more quickly, the mist lord transported us the greater part of the way.

Unfortunately, the pool turned out to be alive and sentient, or at least controlled by a being that was such. It resisted all efforts to remove part of itself. Finally, Ragnarr made yet another sacrifice. The pool told him he could have part of it, if he gave part of himself - a finger. He did so, at the price of swift and sudden agony.

A true servant of Pelor is he.

My memories of the next stage are, for some unknown reason, hazy, but we have made our way back. I believe at some point we were drinking with Orcs and visiting one of their shamans. I trust in faith that the results be worthy of our spent gold and Ragnarr's great sacrifices.

Praise and glory to Lord Pelor.

*A*

The plane boss the plane

I was pleasantly surprised to see how many interesting item and magical items there are in the planes, to bad they come with a heavy price. One that Ragnarr paid for us. It is moments like these that remind me why I have been friends with him. He has always been willing to put in the extra effort and sacrifice so much to do Pelor’s will. He has a far stronger faith then I. Anyways, we got some water for payment for a spirit Ragnarr summoned, hopefully this will help us track down the person who has the staff. I am right now sitting in Ismer having teleported both Paladins back; I figured it would be a good idea to get them out of the Orc camp. I would hate for them to go attacking an Orc, just because he is evil. We do not have time right now to fight a way with a Orc tribe, not to mention from the stories I have read not sure if I would like to ever be at war with them. It will take a couple more days to teleport the rest of the group here, so I might finally have a little bit of free time to start reading this spell book and learning some of the illusion spells. It would be nice to have some spells that could be used to distract creatures in future battles.

On a side note I need to find a way to earn some gold. I am quickly running out and if we plan on having a chance against this evil I am going to need a lot more gold to prepare for the battles to come.

From The Journal of Jacob Cayle

Date: Some time after the last time I wrote in this damn book.

So, I finally was able to talk to someone about whatever it is that's been hovering over my shoulder. I'm still not quite sure what it was, and the orc shaman basically pointed out the obvious for me: if it wanted to communicate with me, it would have done so by now; and no doubt it's here because it's curious about us and what we're doing. I still don't know exactly what it is, but maybe that doesn't matter. The more important question is whether this thing is a potential ally for the group or a potential adversary. If neither, it doesn't really matter, but frankly, if it's been following me this long, it must be planning something, unless it's just eternally bored and simply enjoys a good show. Which I suppose is possible, but is it worth the risk that this thing might eventually make it's presence known at the worst possible time? Hard to say, I'll have to meditate on that for a while.

Ragnarr: Day Drinking With Orcs

I hope this staff is worth it.

If what the druid says is true, it certainly is. If this thing can drive the watery bastards back into the ocean, I'm all for it. If they would take their gnome with them, it would be most appreciated.

But a wee bit of me can't help but wonder if this is some kind of elaborate ruse, the watery bastards throwing us some horse shit about a staff, so we'll run around after it instead of doing what really needs done, whatever that is. The temples, perhaps?

If that's the case, it's a damn fine trick. With what we've got, we can't very well not go after the bloody staff.

But by Pelor's beard, this thing has cost me enough.

I never thought I'd be in debt to a planar lord. Hell, I never much thought I'd ever meet one. When I was a wee lad, I never thought "Whatever will I do if I meet an angry planar lord?" If the little human boys at the orphanage had even brought it up, I'd have probably punched them in the groin for making shite up.

Only now I owe the bloody bastard six favors. And for what? For permission to take something of his. Except we didn't. We took something from some bastard puddle that wasn't part of the mist lord's domain. Six bloody favors for nothing but him not having a shiteload of elementals kick us in the arse. Which is mighty nice of him, in an "I'm a giant arsehole" kind of way.

And the puddle's got my finger.

This hasn't been my day.

But for all that, it could have been worse.

We're all alive.

We didn't have to kill anything. I didn't have to heal anybody. We did it all without anybody needing to be violent.

We know where the staff is. It's somewhere we can get it. Probably by killing some folks, it's true, but at least we've got the bastards who are good at that.

And tomorrow, Pelor will wake up in the morning, and it'll be a better day.

It can't be any bloody worse.

From The Journal of Jacob Cayle

Date: a sad, sad day indeed.

Alas! Grungar is leaving! My beloved Donk! None of the others were nearly so predisposed to helping me with research when I needed to see what happened when something got smashed!

Ah well, I guess I'll just have to find a new meat-shield to encourage into smashing things. Round these parts they seem to be plentiful. But truly, Grungar was a Donk among Donks!

Journal of Grungar the Masher, Day 177-193 (final entry)

Okay so today we see spookys. They were faraway but scary. :o

Okay so today we see smoke. City is on fire! Chris send us there really fast!

Okay so today city was on fire. Many people did badmash to other people and that is bad.
Tupper sad that they trap ghostlady in hole. Tupper also angry that other friends point that out. Poor Tupper. :(

Okay so today we are at a beach!
We find a thing full of bad things. I try to mash a bad thing but I do not and also I fall over.
Evil man also try to mash bad thing but it just get shiny.
We go back to Izmir for things.

Okay so today I see mommy! I give her moneys from goodmash.
I bring Ragnar and Arkadesh to see mommy, they tell her about our playtimes.
They ask mommy if I can go to big city to be Pal of Dan! Mommy is very happy! I am very happy! Hooray!

Okay so today we was put in jail because I drink bad. But nice lady let us out!
Arkadesh and Ragnar gave me paper! Now I leave for big city! I will learn all about Dan and mashing bad things and be the very best!


Okay so today I learn first lesson. Big city is not north.

Journal of Lt. Tupper, Day 176-192a

Day 176
An intruder in the camp last night: a malicious illusionist. We managed to capture him alive. This is all I wish to record on the subject, as I wish to slowly rebuild my faith in the overall competency of our group.


Day 180
Night watch saw a circle of ten ghosts in the woods, one of which was the now-infamous elf woman. That, coupled with a dream… vision… thing in which she thanked me for 'freeing' her, is a bad sign. So the gravesite's been activated, but how? Did someone else stumble upon it, or was it only a matter of time? What did it actually do? Is this a sign of weal or woe? Am I finally rid of those embarrassing dreams? Will I ever be able to answer any of these questions? Bah.


Day 182
Smoke on the horizon. Looks to be coming from the town next to the gravesite. We've been moving in to investigate.


Day 183
Last night the prisoner disappeared. Aerialla tried to track where he went, with no success. Khris tried to dispel any spells in effect, with no success. Jacob tried peering into the invisible spectrums for him, with no success. Arcadius tried stabbing the cart where the prisoner had been, and found the little bastard. If we are the best hope for defending Point of Origin, then they better start evacuating the city now.

As for the town, it's in ruins. No corpses, no weaponry, just footprints and debris. The entrance to the tomb looks like it was hit by a siege engine. Naturally my interest in finding out what they were seeking to hide down there was viewed upon as the lustings of a romantic by the others.

We're following the footprints west out of town, towards the coast.


Day 184
The trail lead into the water. Signs of boats hauled up on the beach, as well as campsites. We found a pot in the sand that was full of gas, 5 quartz crystals, needles and ink, and a black crystal ball at the bottom. Attempts to mangle the contents went as expected, which was nowhere. Nothing else of note in the area.

Heading back towards Izmir.


Day 191
Izmir, just as I left it. Well, save that they replaced the cart. And the acid crater dried up.

Ragnar turned in the illusionist to the authorities before he and Arcadius visited with Grungar's mother. Apparently, Grungar has what it takes to be a paladin. The potential for sarcastic commentary on this development is far too great. He's leaving for Point of Origin tomorrow to join up with the Order, and I can't say I'll really miss him. I don't know, it just seems like every time we lose a yahoo we gain another one soon afterwards.


Day 192
Oh gods damn it.

The seneschal sent a small army to arrest all of us last night. The officer in charge, a Captain Ooler, had one of those damn crystal pendants. I'd like to be hopeful and positive, but if 'They' are this far inland then Point of Origin is likely also under 'Their' control. Hells' bell. For the record, the crimes were kidnapping, highway robbery, and assault of that damn wizard. Those would be valid charges if he didn't attack first (and he damn well did); and when it's the word of an illusionist against the word of paladins, and when you're as thick in the head as the seneschal, then the course of action is clear.

Fortunately, Miranda came around and vouched for us later in the day. But, after a modest 100 gold fine, we discovered that a very important staff of ours fell off the gear roster during the night. The seneschal said he'll find somebody to look into it. I'm willing to bet that person will be big on unrefined jewelry.

After that, Grungar took the opportunity to leave for Point of Origin. May St. Cuthbert watch over him, as he'll need a lot of adult supervision and will likely eat his letters of recommendation on the way.