Paladins are lovely lads. So well meaning. So noble, good at hitting things with other things, that sort of thing. Some of the nicest people you'll ever meet, and great role models for your children.
If a thing is evil, fight it. If a thing is good, help it. It's a fine philosophy, but by Pelor's beard, sometimes it makes the buggers a bit daft.
I mean, supposing you end up in a pirate fortress, right? Better, say the fortress is probably under the control of an aboleth, particularly a telepath. So we can assume pretty reasonably that this thing is going to have ways to protect the brains of its minions, right? Or even mess with their minds until they don't even know there's an aboleth present. Being a bloody telepath, a reasonable person could assume this, and therefore assume that evil bastards in this place are probably going to be protected from looking evil. And that, furthermore, they're going to be mind controlled, confused, and bloody pirates, so they're probably not going to be entirely forthcoming about things.
Don't get me wrong, I'm all for the non-violent solution when it presents itself. I'd be just as happy to accept a man's surrender, tie him up, and leave him stuffed in a barrel where he can't get me into any more trouble.
But these bastards are all just barely on what you might call the smooth talker end of things. Not that smooth, even, but a little bit. And I'm learning that my paladins start having unsolvable moral dilemmas the moment someone answers a question like "are you evil?" with anything other than a yes or no.
It's daft, and it just keeps happening. It seems that the only way I can get them to use their pointy things to hit people is if I get the damn thing started myself. And by then they've been confused by a damn game of "I know you are but what am I" for so long that the reinforcements have arrived.
I mean, really. I shouldn't have to hit things myself, should I? That's what Pelor made bloody paladins for.
Bastards.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
From the Journal of Hrogar
We have an Abolith to kill!
As this one is the telepath, one would assume it knows we are coming. And what we are planning.
It is located on an island, with a pirate fleet on the surface and a Kraken beneath the water surrounding the island.
We thought going through whatever underwater entrance there is would be easiest, but that was before we met the Kraken.
Hopefully things will be easier after that battle, but I tend to doubt it. Still, at least we survived, for now.
As this one is the telepath, one would assume it knows we are coming. And what we are planning.
It is located on an island, with a pirate fleet on the surface and a Kraken beneath the water surrounding the island.
We thought going through whatever underwater entrance there is would be easiest, but that was before we met the Kraken.
Hopefully things will be easier after that battle, but I tend to doubt it. Still, at least we survived, for now.
Sztuczka's Journal
Ok so we found these cannons and this gunpowder and we decided we needed to get through a door and they let me try and set off the cannon at it and it worked at least enough that they could kick it down the rest of the way and then we blew up a trap in the ceiling and the guy up there had put a barrel of gunpowder over the trap so a whole wave of fire came washing down and it was awesome and then there was a door with lots of locks on it and one of them refused to go boom so I used paper and made a little packet of boom and my hair caught on fire and it was awesome but now i doubt my gnominess because i did all that exploding with no training and i still have all my fingers and toes and didn't even lose a limb!
Journal of Crunch, Day 289b
-day289-B:
We have located and neutralized a number of storehouses of pirating supplies within the facility, and dealt with a pirate supervisor as well. There has also been the discovery of a strange series of prisons, each involving crystals encasing a person and surrounded by runes. Arkadesh and Azan have tested the defenses of the primary prison by using the corpse of the pirate supervisor. (Current theory is that this act doubles as a ward against necromantic reactivation of the pirate.) Hrogar has suggested that if the aboleth seeks to imprison these people, it is our imperative to release them; this inspired a campaign of flinging spears, harpoons, and explosives at the primary prison crystal. Regardless of this, the crystal remains mostly intact.
We have also found a cache of explosion-based ranged weaponry, of which Sztuczka is very knowledgeable. We have progressed through a number of doors using these materials, however, firing a ship cannon upwards has proven to be dangerous. (It should be noted that Sztuczka does not feel pain, and may also be suicidal. Special precautions are to be taken.) Dantroe has volunteered for operative evacuation duties during these maneuvers, and has served well in this role.
Ragnarr has expressed an unusual sentiment: disbelief in that he has not only repaired me during the mission, but that he could repair me at all! This was particularly surprising given his relative sobriety. Fortunately, this matter was rectified after an 1i78[30]4D7 encounter in which a pirate ruptured my secondary control clump, and repairs were successfully requested from and implemented by Ragnarr. There was some minor cultural abrasion during this event, however, expectations of hostility in the immediate future are very low. It should also be noted that Sztuczka proved willing to attempt manual repairs to the damage.
Barring new circumstances, we have agreed to pursue the potential of an underground river with regards to locating the aboleth.
We have located and neutralized a number of storehouses of pirating supplies within the facility, and dealt with a pirate supervisor as well. There has also been the discovery of a strange series of prisons, each involving crystals encasing a person and surrounded by runes. Arkadesh and Azan have tested the defenses of the primary prison by using the corpse of the pirate supervisor. (Current theory is that this act doubles as a ward against necromantic reactivation of the pirate.) Hrogar has suggested that if the aboleth seeks to imprison these people, it is our imperative to release them; this inspired a campaign of flinging spears, harpoons, and explosives at the primary prison crystal. Regardless of this, the crystal remains mostly intact.
We have also found a cache of explosion-based ranged weaponry, of which Sztuczka is very knowledgeable. We have progressed through a number of doors using these materials, however, firing a ship cannon upwards has proven to be dangerous. (It should be noted that Sztuczka does not feel pain, and may also be suicidal. Special precautions are to be taken.) Dantroe has volunteered for operative evacuation duties during these maneuvers, and has served well in this role.
Ragnarr has expressed an unusual sentiment: disbelief in that he has not only repaired me during the mission, but that he could repair me at all! This was particularly surprising given his relative sobriety. Fortunately, this matter was rectified after an 1i78[30]4D7 encounter in which a pirate ruptured my secondary control clump, and repairs were successfully requested from and implemented by Ragnarr. There was some minor cultural abrasion during this event, however, expectations of hostility in the immediate future are very low. It should also be noted that Sztuczka proved willing to attempt manual repairs to the damage.
Barring new circumstances, we have agreed to pursue the potential of an underground river with regards to locating the aboleth.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Fun with Cannons
We keep going further into the keep. I can respect the courage of the monk, but he is not the most tactical of the group. He keeps running ahead and attack the enemy and ends up nearly getting killed. Thankfully Ragnar has an amazing ability to keep people alive. Pelor has blessed us with his presence. Any way, we where able to get past a death trap, sadly the archers were only able to hit the monk. Only a couple arrows were able to hit anyone else. Ragnar at this point cast a mist spell and we were able to fight our way through.
After this room we found a few cannons. This was right up Sztu's alley. A cannon is an amazing item in the hands of a noam. Amazing but dangerous. We used the cannon to get through several door. There is still no signs of the abalith. Hopefully we can find some signs of it soon.
After this room we found a few cannons. This was right up Sztu's alley. A cannon is an amazing item in the hands of a noam. Amazing but dangerous. We used the cannon to get through several door. There is still no signs of the abalith. Hopefully we can find some signs of it soon.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Journal of Arcadius
(hastily scrawled note)
I feel... odd.
I'm not sure if it is the accursed amulet, or some other effect, but I am not quite myself. Not that the slain evildoer deserved better, but I'm not sure what possessed me to use his corpse as a means to set off magical defenses in the circle. Pelor forgive me! May his soul find redemption for his deeds in life.
And the cannon...
The less said the better. I suspect the enemy, or at least all but the mightiest or most foolish of them, have fled far from the range of our efforts. Still Sztuczka is enjoying herself mightily, and that is something.
Ragnarr has an odd expression on his face.
Lord Pelor, clear my mind!
*A*
I feel... odd.
I'm not sure if it is the accursed amulet, or some other effect, but I am not quite myself. Not that the slain evildoer deserved better, but I'm not sure what possessed me to use his corpse as a means to set off magical defenses in the circle. Pelor forgive me! May his soul find redemption for his deeds in life.
And the cannon...
The less said the better. I suspect the enemy, or at least all but the mightiest or most foolish of them, have fled far from the range of our efforts. Still Sztuczka is enjoying herself mightily, and that is something.
Ragnarr has an odd expression on his face.
Lord Pelor, clear my mind!
*A*
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Ragnarr: After a Very Strange Day
I'm really worried about the effects of Papa Lad's amulet. We know that it's doing something bad to him, since usually things that kill you when you try and take them off aren't of the good and shiny sort. But the effect that it's had has been very, very strange.
He seems... giddy. Childlike. And possessed of the kind of humor you usually only find among veteran healers, the kind that have been fighting plague for too damn long. He spent a long, long time tossing things into a circle of protective power, trying to short it out. Which is kind of odd and pointless, by itself.
But then he started using the body of the bastard who wouldn't let us by. Tied a rope around his leg and tossed him.
Which was funny, in a gallows humor sort of way. But very unlike Arcadius.
And that was before he let the gnome play with cannons. None of us died, and I'm happy to say that we seem to have scared off most of the bloody pirates with our experiments. It seems they can tell from the other side of walls that we have no bloody clue what we're doing with the thing. We're operating off a story Laddette heard one time, about this friend of hers whose brother was in a play, and in the play they talked about firing a cannon.
If you don't believe that we're not under divine protection after that worked, it gets weirder.
I can heal Laddytron. I can heal the bloody robot.
I want to try casting a status on it tomorrow. I don't even know if I'll be able to figure out how it's doing. I mean, with most of the Paladins I have at least some idea of what they should feel like normally: like me, but less sore and more sober. But what in Hel's name is a tin can supposed to feel like in the first place?
At least there's some kind of normalcy in all this. We got shot at. Quite a bit. And I've found myself trying to explain to hostile individuals who we are and what, exactly, we're doing in their house.
Mind you, we're in the middle of the ocean. But at least it's easier to explain than "Why, no, I happen to have gated into the middle of your manor house in the middle of the plane of water entirely on accident. Don't mind me." So there's that.
Oh, Pelor. Looks like Laddette is about ready to blow up something else. I'd best be ready to heal.
He seems... giddy. Childlike. And possessed of the kind of humor you usually only find among veteran healers, the kind that have been fighting plague for too damn long. He spent a long, long time tossing things into a circle of protective power, trying to short it out. Which is kind of odd and pointless, by itself.
But then he started using the body of the bastard who wouldn't let us by. Tied a rope around his leg and tossed him.
Which was funny, in a gallows humor sort of way. But very unlike Arcadius.
And that was before he let the gnome play with cannons. None of us died, and I'm happy to say that we seem to have scared off most of the bloody pirates with our experiments. It seems they can tell from the other side of walls that we have no bloody clue what we're doing with the thing. We're operating off a story Laddette heard one time, about this friend of hers whose brother was in a play, and in the play they talked about firing a cannon.
If you don't believe that we're not under divine protection after that worked, it gets weirder.
I can heal Laddytron. I can heal the bloody robot.
I want to try casting a status on it tomorrow. I don't even know if I'll be able to figure out how it's doing. I mean, with most of the Paladins I have at least some idea of what they should feel like normally: like me, but less sore and more sober. But what in Hel's name is a tin can supposed to feel like in the first place?
At least there's some kind of normalcy in all this. We got shot at. Quite a bit. And I've found myself trying to explain to hostile individuals who we are and what, exactly, we're doing in their house.
Mind you, we're in the middle of the ocean. But at least it's easier to explain than "Why, no, I happen to have gated into the middle of your manor house in the middle of the plane of water entirely on accident. Don't mind me." So there's that.
Oh, Pelor. Looks like Laddette is about ready to blow up something else. I'd best be ready to heal.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Sztu's Journal
Ok so I am a bard first and foremost and always and even though I have branched out into a bit more fighty things and battle knowledge I still consider myself a bard because mostly I try to boost morale and Pelor, Herakles and whatever other Gods have interest in this party know that sometimes they just need that little kick in the shins though I think I'll be doing less shin kicking with Tupper gone anyways so we were fighting the krakken and it went inky and ran away and what do we do? we follow the tunnel of course and at the other end were a couple of fighters and a caster and I am used to going *stabbity* and maybe getting swatted at like a fly but since Arcadius and Crunch and Azan had done so much damage to this one guy, I was all *stabbity* and he was all *die* and it was kind of exhilerating because I think my powers so far have only been used to annoy the enemy, not really hurt them... I ROCK!
Journal of Crunch, Day 289a
-day289-A:
We have travelled a fair distance by wind, and have located the island fortress of the telepath aboleth. The main entrance is fortified beyond our ability to penetrate, and so we have opted for access to the facility through alternative means. A kraken was driven off from the waters surrounding the island; it is unlikely to be of concern during our departure. The native pirates have proven to be fierce and merciless warriors, even going as far as to kill Azan. (He is currently in fine health thanks to Ragnarr.)
Attempts to proceed further into the facility were met with devious locking systems that render a person subsistent on the presence of the key, of one Arkadesh took upon himself to bear. Concerned for his well-being, an attempt was made to employ high levels of Manipulative Deceit in a maneuver to relieve him of the device with a minimum of mutual harm. (This was implemented before learning of the crippling nature of the device, and under the deduction that Arkadesh was now an information inlet for the aboleth; acting in earnest or explaining a plan beforehand may have rendered the act futile.) The maneuver, however, brought about the dreaded "Headache of Deceit" (cf. Eberron Day 413, Sigil Day 6) and so caused enough pain for the attempt to be rendered effective. Arkadesh has been disarmed, but still bears the dire key; he has recently employed it to activate a pressure lock leading to the rest of the facility.
Conclusions: Krakens are wily and surprisingly agile for their size. Manipulative Deceit employed for noble or helpful purposes will still invoke serious internal pain. Ragnarr continues to be a paragon of Friendship. Arkadesh is notable in his bravery.
Please excuse me, a door must be opened.
We have travelled a fair distance by wind, and have located the island fortress of the telepath aboleth. The main entrance is fortified beyond our ability to penetrate, and so we have opted for access to the facility through alternative means. A kraken was driven off from the waters surrounding the island; it is unlikely to be of concern during our departure. The native pirates have proven to be fierce and merciless warriors, even going as far as to kill Azan. (He is currently in fine health thanks to Ragnarr.)
Attempts to proceed further into the facility were met with devious locking systems that render a person subsistent on the presence of the key, of one Arkadesh took upon himself to bear. Concerned for his well-being, an attempt was made to employ high levels of Manipulative Deceit in a maneuver to relieve him of the device with a minimum of mutual harm. (This was implemented before learning of the crippling nature of the device, and under the deduction that Arkadesh was now an information inlet for the aboleth; acting in earnest or explaining a plan beforehand may have rendered the act futile.) The maneuver, however, brought about the dreaded "Headache of Deceit" (cf. Eberron Day 413, Sigil Day 6) and so caused enough pain for the attempt to be rendered effective. Arkadesh has been disarmed, but still bears the dire key; he has recently employed it to activate a pressure lock leading to the rest of the facility.
Conclusions: Krakens are wily and surprisingly agile for their size. Manipulative Deceit employed for noble or helpful purposes will still invoke serious internal pain. Ragnarr continues to be a paragon of Friendship. Arkadesh is notable in his bravery.
Please excuse me, a door must be opened.
Monday, October 18, 2010
From the Journal of Hrogar
Ragnarr has apparently had a vision concerning me. He says that he sees me leading a charge of many warrior from many lands. A combined army of those who would not see the world fall to the Aboleths.
I must admit, I have considered that such a force would help our group, if not able to fully smash through our enemies lines, then at least to serve as a distraction so that my allies could make their way to the leader of our enemies when the final assault is made.
However, I do not wish to leave my allies without support. I do have an idea of one who could assist them though...
I must admit, I have considered that such a force would help our group, if not able to fully smash through our enemies lines, then at least to serve as a distraction so that my allies could make their way to the leader of our enemies when the final assault is made.
However, I do not wish to leave my allies without support. I do have an idea of one who could assist them though...
Arcadius and the Shadow Dragon
(From notes written several months past)
PART II - THE COUNTERATTACK
I camped for the night, not close, yet not far enough from the lair of the Shadow Dragon. I found a hidden place among some crags, and set such limited magics as I could to avoid detection. However, I was found. Little did I understand what foe I faced. The dragon had been neither idle nor foolish in the interim.
By the grace of Pelor I awoke with the feeling of impending danger. I armed and armored myself, blazed forth the light of Pelor, and was soon set upon by hordes of things shambling forth out of the darkness. Swarms of skeletons, zombies, ghouls, and strange shadowy things attacked me. Calling upon Pelor I destroyed or drove them away, only to have more appear to take their places. They were a small army, though how many I had no time to count. Unlike the swift battle against the Dragon itself, the fight against its minions raged on and on. In the end, my powers of turning and destruction were spent and I was left fighting them with but sword and inner faith.
Protected on one side by the sheer rocks that hid my camp, I would soon be surrounded on the other three, and I knew I had no choice but to fight my way out. Seeing a slight gap on the left of their line, I charged and cut my way through. The undead things turned instantly to follow. I circled around and up the rock formations until I found a defensible place on high ground, where they could attack me only a few at a time. Here I cut them down one by one. Yet not unscathed. Skeletal hands wielded old and rusting swords, and some of those swords found their mark. Things of cold and darkness gnawed at me. Gradually I pulled back, sometimes finding a moment to heal myself, until I was at last at a peak and could give no more ground. I took wound after wound, and even as I felt myself near collapse, felt death creeping towards me, I hewed down the last of them, and saw before me only a field of corpses... corpses that had been such even as they walked.
Truly great is Lord Pelor, and vile are those things that walk when they are dead. He is ever their foe, and he shall prevail.
I however, the mere servant of Pelor, was in a woeful state. Unfit to face any further foe, I accepted the truth and knew I must leave this lair alone and prepare, somehow, for the true battle. I resolved to heal, strengthen and better equip myself, and then seek again for the Shadow Dragon itself. However, I was wounded near to death and in a desolate place beyond help. I considered what I could do.
My thoughts hit upon two things I had at my disposal, one was the sea-sword I had found in an earlier battle. It was a powerful thing, but far more useful for those in frequent combat with things of the sea. It would be of little use to me in my own cause. Reflecting upon the matter, I remembered the Sea Elves of the north, who were locked in struggle against the power that lurked in the sunken city. Perhaps they could use it, and would trade it for or other items of power, or wealth that could be used to acquire them? But how, in this far land, to reach those Elves? How indeed to even leave this place, in my condition? Then I remembered the magic amulet, given to me by the noble lady Alis Gozen, of the Drow. It allowed one, in a moment, to journey to a far city where she sometimes dwelt. Her cause had in the past been in agreement with that of my companions and I. Perhaps I could use the amulet to travel to her city, there to offer service in return for transport back to the Northlands?
It was a complex plan, involving much attention to wealth and mundane considerations, more befitting such a one as Hrogar perhaps, but involving no stain to honor and indeed in the service of a very great cause. Moreover, I hold and held the lady Alis in the greatest respect, and it would be a worthy task to aid her house once more against their vile alienist foes. My mind made and my heart at ease with what I intended to do, I took action at once.
I pulled forth the amulet, marveled not for the first time at its strange yet beautiful design, and set it for transport.
Magic glowed and swirled about me, and the visible world parted like mist.
PART II - THE COUNTERATTACK
I camped for the night, not close, yet not far enough from the lair of the Shadow Dragon. I found a hidden place among some crags, and set such limited magics as I could to avoid detection. However, I was found. Little did I understand what foe I faced. The dragon had been neither idle nor foolish in the interim.
By the grace of Pelor I awoke with the feeling of impending danger. I armed and armored myself, blazed forth the light of Pelor, and was soon set upon by hordes of things shambling forth out of the darkness. Swarms of skeletons, zombies, ghouls, and strange shadowy things attacked me. Calling upon Pelor I destroyed or drove them away, only to have more appear to take their places. They were a small army, though how many I had no time to count. Unlike the swift battle against the Dragon itself, the fight against its minions raged on and on. In the end, my powers of turning and destruction were spent and I was left fighting them with but sword and inner faith.
Protected on one side by the sheer rocks that hid my camp, I would soon be surrounded on the other three, and I knew I had no choice but to fight my way out. Seeing a slight gap on the left of their line, I charged and cut my way through. The undead things turned instantly to follow. I circled around and up the rock formations until I found a defensible place on high ground, where they could attack me only a few at a time. Here I cut them down one by one. Yet not unscathed. Skeletal hands wielded old and rusting swords, and some of those swords found their mark. Things of cold and darkness gnawed at me. Gradually I pulled back, sometimes finding a moment to heal myself, until I was at last at a peak and could give no more ground. I took wound after wound, and even as I felt myself near collapse, felt death creeping towards me, I hewed down the last of them, and saw before me only a field of corpses... corpses that had been such even as they walked.
Truly great is Lord Pelor, and vile are those things that walk when they are dead. He is ever their foe, and he shall prevail.
I however, the mere servant of Pelor, was in a woeful state. Unfit to face any further foe, I accepted the truth and knew I must leave this lair alone and prepare, somehow, for the true battle. I resolved to heal, strengthen and better equip myself, and then seek again for the Shadow Dragon itself. However, I was wounded near to death and in a desolate place beyond help. I considered what I could do.
My thoughts hit upon two things I had at my disposal, one was the sea-sword I had found in an earlier battle. It was a powerful thing, but far more useful for those in frequent combat with things of the sea. It would be of little use to me in my own cause. Reflecting upon the matter, I remembered the Sea Elves of the north, who were locked in struggle against the power that lurked in the sunken city. Perhaps they could use it, and would trade it for or other items of power, or wealth that could be used to acquire them? But how, in this far land, to reach those Elves? How indeed to even leave this place, in my condition? Then I remembered the magic amulet, given to me by the noble lady Alis Gozen, of the Drow. It allowed one, in a moment, to journey to a far city where she sometimes dwelt. Her cause had in the past been in agreement with that of my companions and I. Perhaps I could use the amulet to travel to her city, there to offer service in return for transport back to the Northlands?
It was a complex plan, involving much attention to wealth and mundane considerations, more befitting such a one as Hrogar perhaps, but involving no stain to honor and indeed in the service of a very great cause. Moreover, I hold and held the lady Alis in the greatest respect, and it would be a worthy task to aid her house once more against their vile alienist foes. My mind made and my heart at ease with what I intended to do, I took action at once.
I pulled forth the amulet, marveled not for the first time at its strange yet beautiful design, and set it for transport.
Magic glowed and swirled about me, and the visible world parted like mist.
Let there be light
Were am I. Am I back home. How did I get here? The last thing I remember was seeing the cleric casting a spell. The cleric's spell must have killed me. This must be the after life. I must say it is very peaceful here and beautiful. I would love to stay here but I feel something pulling me back. What am i doing I need to get back. I can not leave my comrade like this. I owe it to them to find a way back. What the hell it is getting dark and what is this weight what in Pelor's name is happening.
The light is returning, but it is haze. Am I back. Yes I see everyone. It looks like no time has passed. Is this real. It must be real. I can feel pain running though my entire body, but I can feel my strength coming back. Is that the cleric? It is. He will die.
The light is returning, but it is haze. Am I back. Yes I see everyone. It looks like no time has passed. Is this real. It must be real. I can feel pain running though my entire body, but I can feel my strength coming back. Is that the cleric? It is. He will die.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Ragnarr: Post Miracle
It's a stupid thing to say that no one can know all of Pelor's plan. He's a god. I'm not a god. So of course he's going to have a plan that's bigger than anything I'd ever be able to fit in my brain.
The best we can get is glimpses. The smallest of fragments of the whole. A drop in the huge bloody keg of divine knowledge. And even a glimpse is enough to turn your whole damn life around, to make you see the world and your place in it like you've never seen it before. Brighter, like your whole life you've been living under a could and you suddenly see the sun shine on everything for the first time.
But, even with the hugeness of the plans of the gods, they still have the patience, the time, the mind to look down on the prayers of one small, insignificant follower. Even a bastard who cusses too much, drinks too much, and hardly makes a good bloody role model for other bastards wanting to follow in Pelor's path.
That's what paladins are for, I suppose. To be the role model. Bastards like me are just around to drag their feet back to the ground when they need it.
Or to get their soul back into their body when it's just been ripped out by some bloody necromancer.
And all Pelor asked was a little piece of my soul in return.
There's plenty of people, I think, who would tell you that they'd give up part of their soul for something they believed in, for the greater good of the world. But there are very, very few people who will ever have the chance to do it. The chance to prove that no matter how many lies you've told, no matter how many drinks you've had, or whores you've underpaid or debts you've skipped town on, that you're still, basically, a decent person.
And I suppose that's what I am. A decent person.
Through Pelor's light, I might not be half bad.
And one more Paladin gets to keep standing up, keep being that role model that maybe, just maybe, other little boys can look up to and think "Some day, I'd like to be like him. Some day, I'd like to serve Pelor."
It's all part of the plan.
And I, unworthy bastard that I am, get to be a part of it.
The best we can get is glimpses. The smallest of fragments of the whole. A drop in the huge bloody keg of divine knowledge. And even a glimpse is enough to turn your whole damn life around, to make you see the world and your place in it like you've never seen it before. Brighter, like your whole life you've been living under a could and you suddenly see the sun shine on everything for the first time.
But, even with the hugeness of the plans of the gods, they still have the patience, the time, the mind to look down on the prayers of one small, insignificant follower. Even a bastard who cusses too much, drinks too much, and hardly makes a good bloody role model for other bastards wanting to follow in Pelor's path.
That's what paladins are for, I suppose. To be the role model. Bastards like me are just around to drag their feet back to the ground when they need it.
Or to get their soul back into their body when it's just been ripped out by some bloody necromancer.
And all Pelor asked was a little piece of my soul in return.
There's plenty of people, I think, who would tell you that they'd give up part of their soul for something they believed in, for the greater good of the world. But there are very, very few people who will ever have the chance to do it. The chance to prove that no matter how many lies you've told, no matter how many drinks you've had, or whores you've underpaid or debts you've skipped town on, that you're still, basically, a decent person.
And I suppose that's what I am. A decent person.
Through Pelor's light, I might not be half bad.
And one more Paladin gets to keep standing up, keep being that role model that maybe, just maybe, other little boys can look up to and think "Some day, I'd like to be like him. Some day, I'd like to serve Pelor."
It's all part of the plan.
And I, unworthy bastard that I am, get to be a part of it.
Journal of Crunch, Day 284-288
-day 284:
After much work and justifications, a revised holy symbol was created and its sanctification completed. Arkadesh gave approval that it is suitably non-offensive. Plans were made for our journey to the next fortress of the dread aboleths.
Conclusions: One should always seek to carve your own symbology, and not to borrow directly from other symbologies.
-day 285:
We have traveled a great distance by wind, and are camping in the vine-tangled ruins of a mountain town. Some of the others have been here before, and fought a large, roving, meat-eating foliage on this site. The vines in the ruins also devour organic matter. There is a dragon living nearby as well, but it was decided not to seek its recruitment.
Conclusions: Wariness of trees in this area is recommended.
-day 286:
We have traveled a great distance by wind, and are camping in an orcish seaport. Elements of the local orc population appear to be somewhat unscrupulous; they must be regarded with guarded optimism.
Conclusions: Pending.
-day 287:
We have traveled a fair distance by wind, and are camping in Khemhet, a city of Arkadesh's homeland. Arkadesh has been kind enough to permit me to follow him about as he roamed the city. He explained the general operations of the city, including history, societial structures, and defense. The local people do not engage their emotions as previously observed in organics; perhaps this is why Arkadesh had difficulty with my belief system.
Sztuczka provided pleasant musical entertainment for our residing tavern, and so our stay was complementary. Sztuczka is very different from other gnomes encountered; primarily, she has not attempted to dismantle me in the name of science or magic. This is unusual, though not impossible. However, it has occurred to me that Sztuczka is still very much a tinker, but not of machines. She is a Tinker of Emotions. She can invoke great levels of sadness and joy in her audience, inspire a variety of emotional states, and repair hateful or deceitful moods.
Conclusions: Arkadesh's land is neat, and has provided new insight on organic emotional perceptions. Sztuczka's powers over the emotion spectrum are to be recognized and respected.
-day 288:
We have travelled a fair distance by wind, and are camping on top of an underwater reef. Many fish and aquatic organics with self-illuminative abilities were present during the night watch, with a variety of different colors and shapes. Very beautiful. Have never camped underwater before now.
Conclusions: The oceans of this plane are amazing, andthis u I must seek to camp here more often.
After much work and justifications, a revised holy symbol was created and its sanctification completed. Arkadesh gave approval that it is suitably non-offensive. Plans were made for our journey to the next fortress of the dread aboleths.
Conclusions: One should always seek to carve your own symbology, and not to borrow directly from other symbologies.
-day 285:
We have traveled a great distance by wind, and are camping in the vine-tangled ruins of a mountain town. Some of the others have been here before, and fought a large, roving, meat-eating foliage on this site. The vines in the ruins also devour organic matter. There is a dragon living nearby as well, but it was decided not to seek its recruitment.
Conclusions: Wariness of trees in this area is recommended.
-day 286:
We have traveled a great distance by wind, and are camping in an orcish seaport. Elements of the local orc population appear to be somewhat unscrupulous; they must be regarded with guarded optimism.
Conclusions: Pending.
-day 287:
We have traveled a fair distance by wind, and are camping in Khemhet, a city of Arkadesh's homeland. Arkadesh has been kind enough to permit me to follow him about as he roamed the city. He explained the general operations of the city, including history, societial structures, and defense. The local people do not engage their emotions as previously observed in organics; perhaps this is why Arkadesh had difficulty with my belief system.
Sztuczka provided pleasant musical entertainment for our residing tavern, and so our stay was complementary. Sztuczka is very different from other gnomes encountered; primarily, she has not attempted to dismantle me in the name of science or magic. This is unusual, though not impossible. However, it has occurred to me that Sztuczka is still very much a tinker, but not of machines. She is a Tinker of Emotions. She can invoke great levels of sadness and joy in her audience, inspire a variety of emotional states, and repair hateful or deceitful moods.
Conclusions: Arkadesh's land is neat, and has provided new insight on organic emotional perceptions. Sztuczka's powers over the emotion spectrum are to be recognized and respected.
-day 288:
We have travelled a fair distance by wind, and are camping on top of an underwater reef. Many fish and aquatic organics with self-illuminative abilities were present during the night watch, with a variety of different colors and shapes. Very beautiful. Have never camped underwater before now.
Conclusions: The oceans of this plane are amazing, and
Sztuczka's Journal
So we traveled and now we are in Arcadius' homeland and it is shiny and he seems to garner a lot of respect and I had to get a license to perform and that is not something I have had to do in a long time and it is really awesome here and I think I keep catching little bits of inquiring glances since I am so small but it appears that etiquette here does not allow for them to ask me what the hell I am and it is rather amusing though it has not caused me any issues in dealings since people still respect me the way that society dictates rather than my size which is a nice change because usually if people are not used to gnomes I am treated as an oddity, not the great bard that I am and here they are appreciating my bardiness rather than my stature that is not to say I have never traded on the novelty of being a gnomish bard to work deals to my favor but I would rather that be used to my favor, rather than other people's amusement and perverted desires.
Monday, October 11, 2010
The Land of Arcadius
We made our way to the land which Arcadius comes from. While other went and did their thing I went and talked to some of the traders that were in town. The interesting thing was I came across a trader from Ismer. The merchant told me that all merchants from Ismer have been instructed to sell products but not purchase any. This would lead me to believe they are saving up to build an army. It is going to be very interesting few months. A lot is going to happen. I should send a letter back home letting them know what i have learn.
Anyways back to this land. It is a very interesting land. Seems to be well organized. Perhaps one day we should add them to the empire. They would be a good addition, but that is thoughts for another day. Right now I need to prepare for the battles ahead.
Anyways back to this land. It is a very interesting land. Seems to be well organized. Perhaps one day we should add them to the empire. They would be a good addition, but that is thoughts for another day. Right now I need to prepare for the battles ahead.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Arcadius and the Shadow Dragon
(From notes written several months past)
PART I - THE FIRST BATTLE
It had to be done, though little did I know at the time what that would require. I placed my fate in the hands of Lord Pelor, praise be upon him, and saw it through.
As it is said in my land, rightly we have done, rightly we do, and rightly may we do in the times to come.
I had felt for some time a foreboding, a growing knowledge that some new duty lay near in my future. I became quiet, withdrawn into meditation and reflection upon the will of Pelor and the tasks assigned by fate. What that task might prove to be, I did not know, but resolved that I would not shirk when the matter became clear. To my companions, I must have seemed strange, not myself, and in truth it was so, for I focused my mind, my spirit, to be but a weapon of righteousness in the hands of Lord Pelor.
We had been fooled by the Shadow Dragon, in its guise as a ranger. We chased it from the wilderness to the frontiers of the cursed Empire, where alas, it escaped to another plane of existence. In a town on the frontier, Jacob unwisely used his arcane powers, thereby scorching a patch of land of life and attracting much justified intervention from the authorities. He, untrustworthy soul, fled to parts unknown!
In the night that followed, I had a vision.
My companions, both those present and others dimly seen in the future, continued our quest, battling the foul Aboleth and their servants. We advanced through mysteries and dangers half-seen in my mind, as through a fog, till we reached a final confrontation with the Aboleth in their sunken city. Even as we did these things, however, the Dragon roamed the planes, gathering knowledge and power until it met an ancient and wicked Dracolich, who in turn gifted it with a tome of Necromantic power. Using this tome, the Shadow Dragon built an army of dead and darksome things, increasing its power in secret even as heroes and armies put their attention to the foe from the depths. Then, some time not long after the final victory over the Aboleth and their forces, the Shadow Dragon unleashed its armies against a weakened and war-torn world, sweeping all before them.
Something had to be done. Something WOULD be done, and against things of shadow and darkness, who but Lord Pelor could best do it? As his servant, I accepted the task and departed from the others. Gifted with certain insights from my vision, I journeyed to a place where I suspected the Dragon had a lair on this plane. It was in the wilds outside the Empire - not near, yet close enough. By the grace of Lord Pelor, I found the place in a twisted knot of blasted and treeless hills, and even came across a half-ruined and neglected back entrance. Indeed it seemed likely that the place had once been a dwelling of goblins, kobolds, or some other tunneling race of near to man size.
I entered the lair, and again by the grace of Pelor, reached the foul thing unnoticed. It had itself returned only moments before from some other plane of existence. It appeared to be wounded, and was surprised and unprepared at my arrival. I attacked at once, chanting a prayer to the Sun. Nonetheless, it was powerful. A vast and evil thing of blackness, it wielded power over the very dark itself.
I called upon the aid of Lord Pelor and dealt it devastating blow after blow. It was gravely wounded in the first few moments of fighting, but then it seemed to recover strength, called forth shadows to hide its counterattack, and breathed forth unlife to attack me. Praise to Lord Pelor, for his power is suited above all others to counter such things. Still, it was a mighty creature and well armed with claws, teeth, and fell magic. Indeed as the battle raged on, it seemed it might gain the upper hand, but the vile servitor of evil seemed to have other concerns, and used its magic to teleport away.
I investigated its lair, and found little treasure such as men reckon it, but much wealth of a greater kind: knowledge. Among the writings the Dragon kept at this place were old tomes, scrolls, and letters of correspondence. Piecing together what was contained therein, with the guidance of Pelor I gained new insights - the thing truly dwelt on another plane, the very plane of shadow in fact, and could not be permanently killed here. I considered what had happened, and knew that surprise and luck had been on my side. I accepted that I must grow stronger to defeat such a thing, and set myself to the task. Realizing the wisdom of preparation, I left the lair and traveled some distance to a hiding place in the wilds.
My goal was to rest for the night, then return to the dragon's lair, where I intended to collect the Dragon's books and other documents, as well as such wealth and items of power as could be collected. I hoped to study in greater depth what I had found, to find more of the thing's plots, powers, and weaknesses.
It did not turn out so.
PART I - THE FIRST BATTLE
It had to be done, though little did I know at the time what that would require. I placed my fate in the hands of Lord Pelor, praise be upon him, and saw it through.
As it is said in my land, rightly we have done, rightly we do, and rightly may we do in the times to come.
I had felt for some time a foreboding, a growing knowledge that some new duty lay near in my future. I became quiet, withdrawn into meditation and reflection upon the will of Pelor and the tasks assigned by fate. What that task might prove to be, I did not know, but resolved that I would not shirk when the matter became clear. To my companions, I must have seemed strange, not myself, and in truth it was so, for I focused my mind, my spirit, to be but a weapon of righteousness in the hands of Lord Pelor.
We had been fooled by the Shadow Dragon, in its guise as a ranger. We chased it from the wilderness to the frontiers of the cursed Empire, where alas, it escaped to another plane of existence. In a town on the frontier, Jacob unwisely used his arcane powers, thereby scorching a patch of land of life and attracting much justified intervention from the authorities. He, untrustworthy soul, fled to parts unknown!
In the night that followed, I had a vision.
My companions, both those present and others dimly seen in the future, continued our quest, battling the foul Aboleth and their servants. We advanced through mysteries and dangers half-seen in my mind, as through a fog, till we reached a final confrontation with the Aboleth in their sunken city. Even as we did these things, however, the Dragon roamed the planes, gathering knowledge and power until it met an ancient and wicked Dracolich, who in turn gifted it with a tome of Necromantic power. Using this tome, the Shadow Dragon built an army of dead and darksome things, increasing its power in secret even as heroes and armies put their attention to the foe from the depths. Then, some time not long after the final victory over the Aboleth and their forces, the Shadow Dragon unleashed its armies against a weakened and war-torn world, sweeping all before them.
Something had to be done. Something WOULD be done, and against things of shadow and darkness, who but Lord Pelor could best do it? As his servant, I accepted the task and departed from the others. Gifted with certain insights from my vision, I journeyed to a place where I suspected the Dragon had a lair on this plane. It was in the wilds outside the Empire - not near, yet close enough. By the grace of Lord Pelor, I found the place in a twisted knot of blasted and treeless hills, and even came across a half-ruined and neglected back entrance. Indeed it seemed likely that the place had once been a dwelling of goblins, kobolds, or some other tunneling race of near to man size.
I entered the lair, and again by the grace of Pelor, reached the foul thing unnoticed. It had itself returned only moments before from some other plane of existence. It appeared to be wounded, and was surprised and unprepared at my arrival. I attacked at once, chanting a prayer to the Sun. Nonetheless, it was powerful. A vast and evil thing of blackness, it wielded power over the very dark itself.
I called upon the aid of Lord Pelor and dealt it devastating blow after blow. It was gravely wounded in the first few moments of fighting, but then it seemed to recover strength, called forth shadows to hide its counterattack, and breathed forth unlife to attack me. Praise to Lord Pelor, for his power is suited above all others to counter such things. Still, it was a mighty creature and well armed with claws, teeth, and fell magic. Indeed as the battle raged on, it seemed it might gain the upper hand, but the vile servitor of evil seemed to have other concerns, and used its magic to teleport away.
I investigated its lair, and found little treasure such as men reckon it, but much wealth of a greater kind: knowledge. Among the writings the Dragon kept at this place were old tomes, scrolls, and letters of correspondence. Piecing together what was contained therein, with the guidance of Pelor I gained new insights - the thing truly dwelt on another plane, the very plane of shadow in fact, and could not be permanently killed here. I considered what had happened, and knew that surprise and luck had been on my side. I accepted that I must grow stronger to defeat such a thing, and set myself to the task. Realizing the wisdom of preparation, I left the lair and traveled some distance to a hiding place in the wilds.
My goal was to rest for the night, then return to the dragon's lair, where I intended to collect the Dragon's books and other documents, as well as such wealth and items of power as could be collected. I hoped to study in greater depth what I had found, to find more of the thing's plots, powers, and weaknesses.
It did not turn out so.
Ragnarr Stories: Return of the Djinn
To be honest, I don't know what in the name of Pelor we were doing in the plane of fire. I hadn't even seen Misty this time around. Dogwater just showed up and started writing instructions on the wall. The barkeep wasn't happy about that. I tried to tell him Dogwater was an elemental, so it was pure water and, really, the walls would be cleaner by the time Dogwater was done. The bastard didn't believe me, and made me pay him five silvers for cleaning. Bastard.
I pissed in the corner to give him something real to pay for.
But anyway, so Dogwater had written to me that the Misty Bastard wanted me to go with a few other bastards who owed him favors and provide support. Infinite amounts of space between me and a shitload of Paladins, and what doe he want? For me to go heal bastards. The bastard.
So we go portal hopping for a bit. He seemed a bit bigger. I don't know how long he'd been away in Water Elemental time, but he didn't look worse for it. Seemed quicker, too. Had to run like a bastard just to keep up with him. We came up to what I guessed was the last portal. It was like standing in front of a forge. Not bad to stand there, but walk through? Seemed like a bloody stupid idea.
That's when Dogwater peed on me. Bastard.
It was a good thing, though. Whatever he did, it was chilly. Cold enough that I was fine when we walked into the bloody plane of fire, and met up with the bastards I was supposed to be healing.
And that's how I ended up as the healer for a Crystal Dragon and a pair of giant bloody women made of snow and ice. Not bad looking women, either, though they were a bit large for my taste, if you get my meaning. Fifteen feet tall's a bit over my limit.
Oh, and did I mention the giant bloody pile of steaming ooze? Bloody planar lords. All those times I couldn't figure out what the hell Tupper was doing with a bunch of paladins, but at least he was kind of the same general shape.
At least none of the other bastards seemed happy to be here, either. I mean, Dogwater seemed as cheerful as he always did, but that's what makes him annoying as a bastard.
So on we went, the women bitching about the heat and about how their mascara and their faces were running, the dragon roaring, and that damn blob of mucus burbling in a way that seemed put out.
That was about when we got ambushed. What we might have got ambushed by... Pelor, I don't know. We were in the plane of fire. There was fire. Then there was more fire. Maybe some eyes.
I started healing as fast as I could, but I knew it wasn't going to be enough. I screamed something towards Pelor. Not a prayer, exactly. More of a long stream of cursing.
And the attack stopped. I realized I had heard someone yell "Stop" in a way that sounded commanding, so that might have something to do with it.
Somebody came out of the mob of fire bastards. A bastard I recognized. Apparently a bastard who recognized me, too.
"How is that other dwarf, anyway," he asked. "I owe him. A couple of times."
I told him I hadn't seen Flam. It seemed to make him truly sad.
"Well," he said. "I suppose one dwarf is as good as another, right? Since your people have done me so many favors, I will let you go."
We talked for a while about that. Apparently he really had just been ecstatic to be home. He'd seen his wife, spent time with his kids, made a few more kids. Had a great time of it, really. But there was a trick, the bastard. He was willing to let me go. Not the rest of the bastards with me.
Which, to be fair, they were a weird bunch. And that genie bastard considered them to be a fair price for the Misty Bastard invading the plane of fire. But they were all there for the same reason I was. They all fell into debt with the Misty Bastard. They hadn't really signed up to die.
So... I might have cheated a wee bit. I mean, I only cast the one spell to take me back to the Plane of Mist. How was I to help it if the others happened to be touching me when I went? I mean, just because I shouted "Hold on to me" as the spell went off. Could have happened to anyone, right?
But the planes are a funny place. You save someone's life, and they consider themselves to owe you a favor. Or at least they figure they should ask a little less of you when you need something. So they all offered that, if I ever really needed help, they could give me a hand.
Except Dogwater. He just tried to hump my leg, which mostly just made it wet. Then took me back to Misty, who just said "Good work" and sent me back to my bar.
I pissed in the corner to give him something real to pay for.
But anyway, so Dogwater had written to me that the Misty Bastard wanted me to go with a few other bastards who owed him favors and provide support. Infinite amounts of space between me and a shitload of Paladins, and what doe he want? For me to go heal bastards. The bastard.
So we go portal hopping for a bit. He seemed a bit bigger. I don't know how long he'd been away in Water Elemental time, but he didn't look worse for it. Seemed quicker, too. Had to run like a bastard just to keep up with him. We came up to what I guessed was the last portal. It was like standing in front of a forge. Not bad to stand there, but walk through? Seemed like a bloody stupid idea.
That's when Dogwater peed on me. Bastard.
It was a good thing, though. Whatever he did, it was chilly. Cold enough that I was fine when we walked into the bloody plane of fire, and met up with the bastards I was supposed to be healing.
And that's how I ended up as the healer for a Crystal Dragon and a pair of giant bloody women made of snow and ice. Not bad looking women, either, though they were a bit large for my taste, if you get my meaning. Fifteen feet tall's a bit over my limit.
Oh, and did I mention the giant bloody pile of steaming ooze? Bloody planar lords. All those times I couldn't figure out what the hell Tupper was doing with a bunch of paladins, but at least he was kind of the same general shape.
At least none of the other bastards seemed happy to be here, either. I mean, Dogwater seemed as cheerful as he always did, but that's what makes him annoying as a bastard.
So on we went, the women bitching about the heat and about how their mascara and their faces were running, the dragon roaring, and that damn blob of mucus burbling in a way that seemed put out.
That was about when we got ambushed. What we might have got ambushed by... Pelor, I don't know. We were in the plane of fire. There was fire. Then there was more fire. Maybe some eyes.
I started healing as fast as I could, but I knew it wasn't going to be enough. I screamed something towards Pelor. Not a prayer, exactly. More of a long stream of cursing.
And the attack stopped. I realized I had heard someone yell "Stop" in a way that sounded commanding, so that might have something to do with it.
Somebody came out of the mob of fire bastards. A bastard I recognized. Apparently a bastard who recognized me, too.
"How is that other dwarf, anyway," he asked. "I owe him. A couple of times."
I told him I hadn't seen Flam. It seemed to make him truly sad.
"Well," he said. "I suppose one dwarf is as good as another, right? Since your people have done me so many favors, I will let you go."
We talked for a while about that. Apparently he really had just been ecstatic to be home. He'd seen his wife, spent time with his kids, made a few more kids. Had a great time of it, really. But there was a trick, the bastard. He was willing to let me go. Not the rest of the bastards with me.
Which, to be fair, they were a weird bunch. And that genie bastard considered them to be a fair price for the Misty Bastard invading the plane of fire. But they were all there for the same reason I was. They all fell into debt with the Misty Bastard. They hadn't really signed up to die.
So... I might have cheated a wee bit. I mean, I only cast the one spell to take me back to the Plane of Mist. How was I to help it if the others happened to be touching me when I went? I mean, just because I shouted "Hold on to me" as the spell went off. Could have happened to anyone, right?
But the planes are a funny place. You save someone's life, and they consider themselves to owe you a favor. Or at least they figure they should ask a little less of you when you need something. So they all offered that, if I ever really needed help, they could give me a hand.
Except Dogwater. He just tried to hump my leg, which mostly just made it wet. Then took me back to Misty, who just said "Good work" and sent me back to my bar.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Journal of Arcadius
Time
Would that we had more of it! We are in my homeland, if only the frontier trading town of Khemhet, but my homeland nonetheless. It feels comfortable to walk the right path and act in the old and correct ways once more, to speak in my language and be understood, to be... at home, even if the ways here differ slightly from those in my region of the country. It is good.
And yet, something is wrong. Something has changed and there is a subtle undertone of discontent that seems out of place here, yet no one can point to its source. There is much trade from the north, particularly the kingdom of Izmir, but the traders from that unhappy land are under instructions only to sell, not to buy. However trade is not at the heart of what is wrong. Would that we could investigate, but we must move on in the morning, on to the island!
I have guided the others in correct behavior in this land, obtained travel permits for them, a business license for Stuzcka, and have put in some hours helping at the temple of Lord Pelor, praise be to him. Now I must write a letter to my family, and then all shall be in order, at least for now.
When, by the grace of Lord Pelor and the rightly-guiding gods, we defeat the Aboleth, I will come here again.
*A*
Would that we had more of it! We are in my homeland, if only the frontier trading town of Khemhet, but my homeland nonetheless. It feels comfortable to walk the right path and act in the old and correct ways once more, to speak in my language and be understood, to be... at home, even if the ways here differ slightly from those in my region of the country. It is good.
And yet, something is wrong. Something has changed and there is a subtle undertone of discontent that seems out of place here, yet no one can point to its source. There is much trade from the north, particularly the kingdom of Izmir, but the traders from that unhappy land are under instructions only to sell, not to buy. However trade is not at the heart of what is wrong. Would that we could investigate, but we must move on in the morning, on to the island!
I have guided the others in correct behavior in this land, obtained travel permits for them, a business license for Stuzcka, and have put in some hours helping at the temple of Lord Pelor, praise be to him. Now I must write a letter to my family, and then all shall be in order, at least for now.
When, by the grace of Lord Pelor and the rightly-guiding gods, we defeat the Aboleth, I will come here again.
*A*
Journal of Arcadius
A Return
After destroying the Aboleth and its constructs, we explored its former headquarters, and found that much had already been occupied by the Yuan-Ti. We also found the Seneschal in discussion with them, now free of mind control and clearly thankful to be such. After some sharing of useful information, we passed through the gate to the very island in the far north previously visited by Azan and Nigori.
This island was said to be prowled by dragons, and so it was. We met a Prismatic Dragon, a mighty being of uncertain goals, but a clear foe of the Aboleth. It asked us many questions, but came away with the right understanding that we too are fighting the Aboleth. We passed on and found a former camp of the dark-haired Northerners, but all destroyed by dragon fire.
It seemed unwise to linger, so Ragnarr called upon Lord Pelor to teleport us to a place of familiarity, his home town, site of the orphanage where he was raised. This town is a remote, but goodly place in the far northern regions near Stonekeep. The orphanage is maintained by a small temple of Lord Pelor, and there of course Ragnarr and I helped as we could. It was good to see him smiling again, the sun on his face. He spent much time playing with the children and brightening their days.
For my part, I also advised Crunch,the mechanical man, to separate out the holy symbols he had unwisely welded together. I, the priest of Pelor, and Ragnarr aided in this task so that it was done respectfully and correctly. I advised Crunch to give the symbol of Lord Herakles to Tupper, his chosen champion.
After some days passed peacefully in this town, Ragnarr again called upon Pelor and sent us striding forth upon the wind to Umea. It was bitter cold among the clouds in winter, and I was glad we had magic to shield us from the worst of it.
In Umea, trade had much improved, but in other ways all was worse - the place was clearly under the control of the minions of the Aboleth, and many wore crystals openly. We found our horses and Hrogar's cart in good care at least. I visited my horses, Alabaster and Onyx, who have grown a bit fat and lazy with month's of inactivity. Still, they seem happy and healthy, and that is good in these dark times. I gave the innkeeper a considerable amount of gold to care for them for the coming year, and to exercise them more frequently.
There are much larger dangers growing. The Kingdom of Izmir is now clearly ruled by those in thrall to the Aboleth, and it is preparing for war against Point of Origin. We cannot help, not yet at least, for the path of our duty leads us elsewhere, right to the heart of the evil that set all of this in motion.
Lest I forget, I should mention that Walter-Tupper is being called home to Point of Origin by the Sable Lions, for some worthy purpose of their own. Perhaps he answers the call of Lord Herakles at last! Truly, the wisdom and guidance of the gods may be seen in this matter.
We now know that the Aboleth known as the Telepath is based on an island far to the south, several hundred miles west of my homeland. A few days windwalking should take us there, but dangers may lie on the route in between.
Ah, my homeland! So long I have been away! How I would like to see my home as Ragnarr has seen his. Ah, but duty must be done... and that duty must be done swiftly if any of us are to have homes left to see.
Praise be to Lord Pelor!
Praise be to the gods who defend us and guide us.
Let us not falter now.
*A*
After destroying the Aboleth and its constructs, we explored its former headquarters, and found that much had already been occupied by the Yuan-Ti. We also found the Seneschal in discussion with them, now free of mind control and clearly thankful to be such. After some sharing of useful information, we passed through the gate to the very island in the far north previously visited by Azan and Nigori.
This island was said to be prowled by dragons, and so it was. We met a Prismatic Dragon, a mighty being of uncertain goals, but a clear foe of the Aboleth. It asked us many questions, but came away with the right understanding that we too are fighting the Aboleth. We passed on and found a former camp of the dark-haired Northerners, but all destroyed by dragon fire.
It seemed unwise to linger, so Ragnarr called upon Lord Pelor to teleport us to a place of familiarity, his home town, site of the orphanage where he was raised. This town is a remote, but goodly place in the far northern regions near Stonekeep. The orphanage is maintained by a small temple of Lord Pelor, and there of course Ragnarr and I helped as we could. It was good to see him smiling again, the sun on his face. He spent much time playing with the children and brightening their days.
For my part, I also advised Crunch,the mechanical man, to separate out the holy symbols he had unwisely welded together. I, the priest of Pelor, and Ragnarr aided in this task so that it was done respectfully and correctly. I advised Crunch to give the symbol of Lord Herakles to Tupper, his chosen champion.
After some days passed peacefully in this town, Ragnarr again called upon Pelor and sent us striding forth upon the wind to Umea. It was bitter cold among the clouds in winter, and I was glad we had magic to shield us from the worst of it.
In Umea, trade had much improved, but in other ways all was worse - the place was clearly under the control of the minions of the Aboleth, and many wore crystals openly. We found our horses and Hrogar's cart in good care at least. I visited my horses, Alabaster and Onyx, who have grown a bit fat and lazy with month's of inactivity. Still, they seem happy and healthy, and that is good in these dark times. I gave the innkeeper a considerable amount of gold to care for them for the coming year, and to exercise them more frequently.
There are much larger dangers growing. The Kingdom of Izmir is now clearly ruled by those in thrall to the Aboleth, and it is preparing for war against Point of Origin. We cannot help, not yet at least, for the path of our duty leads us elsewhere, right to the heart of the evil that set all of this in motion.
Lest I forget, I should mention that Walter-Tupper is being called home to Point of Origin by the Sable Lions, for some worthy purpose of their own. Perhaps he answers the call of Lord Herakles at last! Truly, the wisdom and guidance of the gods may be seen in this matter.
We now know that the Aboleth known as the Telepath is based on an island far to the south, several hundred miles west of my homeland. A few days windwalking should take us there, but dangers may lie on the route in between.
Ah, my homeland! So long I have been away! How I would like to see my home as Ragnarr has seen his. Ah, but duty must be done... and that duty must be done swiftly if any of us are to have homes left to see.
Praise be to Lord Pelor!
Praise be to the gods who defend us and guide us.
Let us not falter now.
*A*
Sztuczka's Journal
Ragnarr's hometown is amazing! A nice little place and lots to see! Alas, I have spent so much time playing music and around the orphanage and it was a brilliant little town and now we're back with the horses... well everyone else's horses my horse is still in al-Andalus and i forgot how nice a hot bath is and it sounds like Point of Origin is in huge trouble with Ismir and Ismir is no longer friendly and P.o.O. (what an unfortunately acronym!) and uh yeah so we may be avoiding that part of the world and tupper hopefully will not do anything to put us in jeopardy after he has left for PoO!
Journal of Lt. Tupper, Day 280-283 - Final
Day 282 (apparently)
So we defeated the aboleth, which was nice. Nobody died, and we looted the hell out of the place. Turns out we spent eighteen days off-plane. The yuan-ti moved into the keep while we were away, which was downright unsettling. The aboleth had some sort of phylactery set up as a proof against spontaneous exoplanar do-gooder, which Ragnarr managed to lock down. Easy money says the first one we killed had something like that in place.
Not only did we leave the yuan-ti with a fully-functioning obsidian portal, but we went through the damn thing, too. Because clearly there wasn't a boat off that island. Attempts to locate transit on the other side of the portal were met with burning wreckage and snarky dragons that smell several-week-old urine stains and presume they're fresh. After realizing this was a dead end, Ragnarr transported us to his hometown for some reason, where I managed to start in on my final report and everyone else did whatever bloody-minded things came to mind. Something about taking apart a holy symbol they found.
After a night's rest, we set out for Oohmaya as gusts of wind. Currently we are sitting within half a day of Oohmaya, where I have realized I have a horse. This is the best stepping-off point for me, I think. I'll tell them tomorrow and wash my hands of it all. Damned lunatics, the lot of them.
Day 283
Said my farewells, received report from Hrogar for the Order, got out on the road back home. Good riddance. First things first, time to pay off my debts, ending with Helga. I have just enough to pay them and/or their surviving family members off, and to live well enough while I do it. And I forgot what the hells I named my horse. Fortunately the horse forgot, too.
I'd name the backend of the animal after Herakles, but it wouldn't be fair. After all, this horse has never shat on me even once.
Okay, not more than once. Yuck.
More than twice, then.
HERAKLES THINKS POOP JOKES ARE GODSDAMN HILARIOUS.
(Tucked into the journal as a bookmark, and written by David)
To Walter Tupper does Lord-Commander Alfarinn Álfrimsson of the Sable Lions send greetings.
We hope that this missive finds you in good health. We have not received any update from you in some time, which has raised some concern as to your actions given what we have heard. Given our current situation and the enemy's suspected capabilities, we are unwilling to divulge anything on the magnitude of importance that we are discussing in this letter over a sending spell, so we have arranged for the orders to go to Hrogar when he is next in İzmir.
First, let's get the more drastic news out of the way: Since we have received a lack of updates from you, we are assuming that the paladin's mission is going well. Thus, due to the shift in focus in the war, we have transferred your command to the Point Guard, which is more responsible for defending against the forces from the sea that are encroaching more and more on our doorstep every day. We believe that you will be of great service to them going forward, and that your skills are ideally suited to rooting out dissent in our own ranks and in performing certain functions for us in İzmir and beyond. They have agreed to assign you the rank of Lieutenant (1st class), and have agreed to relay commands through us until you can get personally acquainted with your superior officers in Point of Origin on your next visit.
They have brought two issues of note up that they would like us to relay to you.
First, a woman named Helga has been calling after some debts she says that you owe her. I have asked that this message be relayed to you via a sending so that you may settle the matter with her quickly. I am sure you will be prompt in repaying whatever debt you owe to her and hope that you will succeed in getting her out of our hair.
Second, a remote paladin order referring to themselves as "Knights of Heracles" has told us that you have been invited to join their ranks as a recruit. While I do not know if this order is well suited to you, I never knew you had such a courageous streak in you! Congratulations on whatever it is you have done to attract Lord Heracles's attention, I hope you will use the gifts he bestows on you wisely and serve him well.
Finally, they have asked us to relay to you their fervent hope that you will help them get a better grasp of what is going on in İzmir. They hope that on your way back to Point of Origin you will spend some time there, get to know the locals, and can tell them more about the developing circumstances there.
In Service,
Alfarinn Álfrimsson
Lord-Commander of the Sable Lions
Co-Signed:
Morgan ingen Gwyn
Knight-Commander of the Point Guard
So we defeated the aboleth, which was nice. Nobody died, and we looted the hell out of the place. Turns out we spent eighteen days off-plane. The yuan-ti moved into the keep while we were away, which was downright unsettling. The aboleth had some sort of phylactery set up as a proof against spontaneous exoplanar do-gooder, which Ragnarr managed to lock down. Easy money says the first one we killed had something like that in place.
Not only did we leave the yuan-ti with a fully-functioning obsidian portal, but we went through the damn thing, too. Because clearly there wasn't a boat off that island. Attempts to locate transit on the other side of the portal were met with burning wreckage and snarky dragons that smell several-week-old urine stains and presume they're fresh. After realizing this was a dead end, Ragnarr transported us to his hometown for some reason, where I managed to start in on my final report and everyone else did whatever bloody-minded things came to mind. Something about taking apart a holy symbol they found.
After a night's rest, we set out for Oohmaya as gusts of wind. Currently we are sitting within half a day of Oohmaya, where I have realized I have a horse. This is the best stepping-off point for me, I think. I'll tell them tomorrow and wash my hands of it all. Damned lunatics, the lot of them.
Day 283
Said my farewells, received report from Hrogar for the Order, got out on the road back home. Good riddance. First things first, time to pay off my debts, ending with Helga. I have just enough to pay them and/or their surviving family members off, and to live well enough while I do it. And I forgot what the hells I named my horse. Fortunately the horse forgot, too.
I'd name the backend of the animal after Herakles, but it wouldn't be fair. After all, this horse has never shat on me even once.
Okay, not more than once. Yuck.
More than twice, then.
HERAKLES THINKS POOP JOKES ARE GODSDAMN HILARIOUS.
(Tucked into the journal as a bookmark, and written by David)
To Walter Tupper does Lord-Commander Alfarinn Álfrimsson of the Sable Lions send greetings.
We hope that this missive finds you in good health. We have not received any update from you in some time, which has raised some concern as to your actions given what we have heard. Given our current situation and the enemy's suspected capabilities, we are unwilling to divulge anything on the magnitude of importance that we are discussing in this letter over a sending spell, so we have arranged for the orders to go to Hrogar when he is next in İzmir.
First, let's get the more drastic news out of the way: Since we have received a lack of updates from you, we are assuming that the paladin's mission is going well. Thus, due to the shift in focus in the war, we have transferred your command to the Point Guard, which is more responsible for defending against the forces from the sea that are encroaching more and more on our doorstep every day. We believe that you will be of great service to them going forward, and that your skills are ideally suited to rooting out dissent in our own ranks and in performing certain functions for us in İzmir and beyond. They have agreed to assign you the rank of Lieutenant (1st class), and have agreed to relay commands through us until you can get personally acquainted with your superior officers in Point of Origin on your next visit.
They have brought two issues of note up that they would like us to relay to you.
First, a woman named Helga has been calling after some debts she says that you owe her. I have asked that this message be relayed to you via a sending so that you may settle the matter with her quickly. I am sure you will be prompt in repaying whatever debt you owe to her and hope that you will succeed in getting her out of our hair.
Second, a remote paladin order referring to themselves as "Knights of Heracles" has told us that you have been invited to join their ranks as a recruit. While I do not know if this order is well suited to you, I never knew you had such a courageous streak in you! Congratulations on whatever it is you have done to attract Lord Heracles's attention, I hope you will use the gifts he bestows on you wisely and serve him well.
Finally, they have asked us to relay to you their fervent hope that you will help them get a better grasp of what is going on in İzmir. They hope that on your way back to Point of Origin you will spend some time there, get to know the locals, and can tell them more about the developing circumstances there.
In Service,
Alfarinn Álfrimsson
Lord-Commander of the Sable Lions
Co-Signed:
Morgan ingen Gwyn
Knight-Commander of the Point Guard
Journal of Crunch, Day 280-283
-day 280:
Revised Conclusion: Victory! The vile creature and its henchconstructs were destroyed, liberating the Seneschal and permitting her to flee the field of combat. This event has left feelings of energy and vigor, far moreso than any previously.
During the exit of the lair, a trap was inadvertently sprung, leaving the others to doubt my autonomy. Fortunately no compromise in integrity has been observed. The upper levels of the lair have been commandeered by allied organics known as yuan-ti. The aboleth had a variation on the lich phylactery as a means of continued survival; but fortunately Ragnarr knew how to disarm it, and did. Calibration with local calendar systems occurred.
Employment of the aboleth transportation network led us to a bleak landscape, fraught with danger. A dragon of many colors and hues met with us here, and offered us what little aid it could. When we could find no transportation, Ragnarr employed a teleportation spell to return us all to his place of birth. It was intriguing to explore the hometown of such a legend. Ragnarr's mood appears much improved, and he left for business with old relations. Deployment of a disguise was required at this point, as the people of this land are unfamiliar with my kind. It is also very cold here, and proper attire is required for continued operation.
Conclusions: Prioritization of the Draconic language may be required.
-day 281:
Arkadesh has expressed concern over my holy symbol. He says that the welding together of several holy symbols as one is insulting to the gods involved. We have embarked on a respectful disassembly of the item. While Arkadesh appears to know more about etiquette with regards to the gods, he seems unable to fully grasp my belief system. This is understandable, as it is fairly complex. An endeavor to educate him is under way. A new, non-offensive holy symbol will also be required.
Conclusions: Being able to explain your beliefs is important.
-day 282:
I became wind! Ragnarr employed a different transportation spell that allowed us to become gusts of wind, which travelled south towards a city called Umeiya. It was very invigorating. We have set up camp after many hours of travel in this fashion, and outside of smoke on the horizon and the potential presence of dragons, it has been quiet.
Conclusions: Always wear warm clothing while being wind.
-day 283:
A ravaged caravan was the source of the smoke on the horizon. It appears to have suffered an attack by one or more dragons. The corpses of the caravan guards have clear crystals around their necks, which is a sign of control by the dread aboleths.
Tupper has left the unit to report back to his superiors. Arkadesh recommended giving Tupper the symbol of Herakles before he left. Attempts to do so were met with the holy symbol being flung at my head. Perhaps the symbol was unsuitable for use by the Champion of Herakles after it was affixed to others. However, I am certain he will find a way to properly sanctify it and so snuck the item into his saddlebag. At the worst, it will serve as a sign of concern and hope from an ally.
Conclusions: The parting of friends is always difficult, even if one only knows them for a short time.
Revised Conclusion: Victory! The vile creature and its henchconstructs were destroyed, liberating the Seneschal and permitting her to flee the field of combat. This event has left feelings of energy and vigor, far moreso than any previously.
During the exit of the lair, a trap was inadvertently sprung, leaving the others to doubt my autonomy. Fortunately no compromise in integrity has been observed. The upper levels of the lair have been commandeered by allied organics known as yuan-ti. The aboleth had a variation on the lich phylactery as a means of continued survival; but fortunately Ragnarr knew how to disarm it, and did. Calibration with local calendar systems occurred.
Employment of the aboleth transportation network led us to a bleak landscape, fraught with danger. A dragon of many colors and hues met with us here, and offered us what little aid it could. When we could find no transportation, Ragnarr employed a teleportation spell to return us all to his place of birth. It was intriguing to explore the hometown of such a legend. Ragnarr's mood appears much improved, and he left for business with old relations. Deployment of a disguise was required at this point, as the people of this land are unfamiliar with my kind. It is also very cold here, and proper attire is required for continued operation.
Conclusions: Prioritization of the Draconic language may be required.
-day 281:
Arkadesh has expressed concern over my holy symbol. He says that the welding together of several holy symbols as one is insulting to the gods involved. We have embarked on a respectful disassembly of the item. While Arkadesh appears to know more about etiquette with regards to the gods, he seems unable to fully grasp my belief system. This is understandable, as it is fairly complex. An endeavor to educate him is under way. A new, non-offensive holy symbol will also be required.
Conclusions: Being able to explain your beliefs is important.
-day 282:
I became wind! Ragnarr employed a different transportation spell that allowed us to become gusts of wind, which travelled south towards a city called Umeiya. It was very invigorating. We have set up camp after many hours of travel in this fashion, and outside of smoke on the horizon and the potential presence of dragons, it has been quiet.
Conclusions: Always wear warm clothing while being wind.
-day 283:
A ravaged caravan was the source of the smoke on the horizon. It appears to have suffered an attack by one or more dragons. The corpses of the caravan guards have clear crystals around their necks, which is a sign of control by the dread aboleths.
Tupper has left the unit to report back to his superiors. Arkadesh recommended giving Tupper the symbol of Herakles before he left. Attempts to do so were met with the holy symbol being flung at my head. Perhaps the symbol was unsuitable for use by the Champion of Herakles after it was affixed to others. However, I am certain he will find a way to properly sanctify it and so snuck the item into his saddlebag. At the worst, it will serve as a sign of concern and hope from an ally.
Conclusions: The parting of friends is always difficult, even if one only knows them for a short time.
Monday, October 4, 2010
A moment to relax
Some down time was nice. A few days ago we were fighting the abalith and then proceeded to go through the teleporting mirror. The clan which was camped out on the island looked like they were attacked. I am not sure if it was the dragon we came across our the abablith that was the cause of this. Anyway we teleported back to Ragnar's home town and spent some time there. After that we headed back to a town were the group had some horses.
While at the town we are resting and relaxing, we also found out some more information about point of origin. Ismer is apparently going to try and siege it. As much as the group wanted to go help protect point of origin we need to take care of the other ababliths.
Tupper has decided to leave. I have a bad feeling he is going to try and get back into point of origin and be capture. I would not be surprised if we have an army or at least a few assassins coming after us. Anyway, we are heading out tomorrow, but for now i am going to enjoy this bath and relax.
While at the town we are resting and relaxing, we also found out some more information about point of origin. Ismer is apparently going to try and siege it. As much as the group wanted to go help protect point of origin we need to take care of the other ababliths.
Tupper has decided to leave. I have a bad feeling he is going to try and get back into point of origin and be capture. I would not be surprised if we have an army or at least a few assassins coming after us. Anyway, we are heading out tomorrow, but for now i am going to enjoy this bath and relax.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Ragnarr: Home Again
It's been a long, long time since I've been back to Pelor's Beacon.
Ulf looks a bit older than I remember him. Children who had been dropped by the side of the trade route, the tiniest babies, freshly realized mistakes to their mothers, have grown up, moved out, and gone on to lead their own lives of adventure. Many, it seems, hoping to follow in the example of some dwarf imbecile they've heard stories about.
All of the children are different, but it feels the same. Quiet. Peaceful.
Home. This place feels like home.
I walked outside this morning, and felt the sun on my face.
The sun. It's been twenty years, twenty long damn years, without feeling that warmth on my face. Twenty years of a dull, gray chill that hadn't a damn thing to do with cold seeping into my bones. A chill that no amount of ale would warm, though Pelor knows I tried.
But ale can't make colors like this. Not even that damn Pandemonium crap can match the green of the grass, the orange blur of a little boy's hair, the rich browns of the earth beneath my feat.
I couldn't stop smiling. I couldn't stop laughing. Poor Arcadius must have thought me mad, lying giggling in the sun with a pack of children playing "King of the Dwarf" on top of me.
It's strange. Yesterday, we killed an Aboleth, ended a great threat to the whole bloody planet. Yesterday, it hardly seemed like it mattered. It was just one more damn thing that needed doing.
And today it still doesn't matter. Children play in the streets, the breeze blows through my beard, and the sun... by the gods, the sun.
The sun was here the whole time. Pelor was always here, watching over where he was needed most.
And as long as he's up there, we'll be fine. Some of us may not see the end, not alive, but we'll get through this.
Because Pelor's up there. And he's in here. He was here the whole time.
And I'll not be deserting him again.
Ulf looks a bit older than I remember him. Children who had been dropped by the side of the trade route, the tiniest babies, freshly realized mistakes to their mothers, have grown up, moved out, and gone on to lead their own lives of adventure. Many, it seems, hoping to follow in the example of some dwarf imbecile they've heard stories about.
All of the children are different, but it feels the same. Quiet. Peaceful.
Home. This place feels like home.
I walked outside this morning, and felt the sun on my face.
The sun. It's been twenty years, twenty long damn years, without feeling that warmth on my face. Twenty years of a dull, gray chill that hadn't a damn thing to do with cold seeping into my bones. A chill that no amount of ale would warm, though Pelor knows I tried.
But ale can't make colors like this. Not even that damn Pandemonium crap can match the green of the grass, the orange blur of a little boy's hair, the rich browns of the earth beneath my feat.
I couldn't stop smiling. I couldn't stop laughing. Poor Arcadius must have thought me mad, lying giggling in the sun with a pack of children playing "King of the Dwarf" on top of me.
It's strange. Yesterday, we killed an Aboleth, ended a great threat to the whole bloody planet. Yesterday, it hardly seemed like it mattered. It was just one more damn thing that needed doing.
And today it still doesn't matter. Children play in the streets, the breeze blows through my beard, and the sun... by the gods, the sun.
The sun was here the whole time. Pelor was always here, watching over where he was needed most.
And as long as he's up there, we'll be fine. Some of us may not see the end, not alive, but we'll get through this.
Because Pelor's up there. And he's in here. He was here the whole time.
And I'll not be deserting him again.
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