Journal of Lt. Tupper, Day 219-223a

Day 219
Left the city in the form of gaseous clouds. I would like a day where I'm just myself for its duration. I know they exist, I used to live them. We have set up camp at the edge of the desert. May this area be free of gnolls, mastiffs, really anything with teeth or hunger.

Herakles could not pour water out of a sandal.


Day 220
We have found a herd of dwarven desert dwellers and goats. Ragnar as usual acted as ambassador, and we learned of a nearby cave inhabited by a fire djinn. Naturally we want to douse the bugger. A guide will take us there in the morning.

Herakles could not find the sky in the Plane of Air.


Day 221
The guide took his sweet time getting here. We have spent the better part of the day watching the locals make clothes out of goat hair, finding new ways to ward off the heat, and not getting drunk (given that a full third of our party are mountain dwarves, this point has been elaborated upon amongst the rest of us with much zeal). At any rate, the guide is here now and we will finally depart for our nigh-certain doom tomorrow morning.

Herakles once tried wearing pants, but found them to greatly restrict the movement of his arms.


Day 223
Yesterday was another fine and glorious day where my head stayed on my shoulders.

Apparently the fire djinn was the same one we released in Izmir. Apparently it still owed Fflam a wish because of that. Apparently Fflam didn't fully make the connection that the powerful being offering him a wish was EVIL, and so wished it to leave. Not forever, just for now. Still, it's a far better use of a wish than what, say, Alcander would have done with it.

The cave itself is a catacomb of the damned. 10 sarcophaguses, some with corpses, some with powerful undead, some with hordes of insects, one with a lever. Chris and I were on sarcophagus-opening duty, on the basis that everyone else is more useful in combat. I would think the others would want to protect their investment in my continued life, but then again I would think the others had more sense than a barrel of rats. The places and times you find out how wrong you are.

My share of the gold (all legitimately looted) comes to about 633 pieces; paying back Ragnar and Ariella for their kindness is top priority, though keeping some for a new set of picks (as well as the inevitable inn fees, food, and catastrophes) is also important. There are also a cache of jewels to sell off that I have not yet figured into my share. I'm sure my financial troubles will titillate my superiors to no end.