Alcander: Day AmDead

Well, this is unexpected.

I had expected things to be, I don't know, more heroic seeming. Face some savage foe in honorable combat and have my head cleaved open by a mighty blow, my lion skin split in half and my club shattered assunder. Not stabbed through the heart by some foe so dishonorable as to not even bother to present his face upon killing me.

It's not like I didn't give him fair warning. I let all the Drow know that they should come and face me. Would it have been that hard for them to come face me?

But no. The dishonorable bastards snuck around, refused to face me honorably, and that was that.

But damn it, I had thought that Heracles would at least be happy to see me. But no! He laughed at me, as though my actions were not appreciated, as though he did not see the glory that I had brought to his name, but only laughed at my trials. Then he savaged a naked woman, downed a barrel of ale, and told me that I had missed the point.

Missed the point! By the gods, I followed his teachings! Honor, glory, what better things are there? Wine and women would have only been a distraction.

I tried to tell him so, to remind him of his own teachings. He only let me speak for ten minutes, hardly enough time for a proper discourse, then told me that if I felt that way, he'd send me to a cell to sit and write in this bloody journal until I figured it out.

A journal! In the name of Heracles, I'm dead. I thought I was done with journals.

Outside I can hear the sounds of their revelry. Even in the heavens there is this wretched trechery.

By the gods, why couldn't I have recieved a calling from Bacchus, instead?

I can only hope they give me something to kill, soon. Otherwise I may go mad.

I'd almost rather deal with Tupper.

Journal of Arcadius - Day 122

Being at our wits end as to what to do next, we decided to call upon an unusual source of support and information - the Drow - or rather, the lady Alis Gozen, who had once offered us favor in return for dealing with some evil Drow foes of hers.

This offer we now took.

Using the magic porting device provided by her, we traveled to a city under the control of her and other friendly allied houses. A strange purple glow, like faerie fire, suffused everything. She, the lady was as dignified as ever. Truly a worthy example of leadership. From her we learned the specifics of our mission - the destruction of a Drow noble house in the service of the utterly evil goddess Lolth. She also assigned one of her family to guide us through the Underdark to the point where we would again use magic to attack the evil ones.

Our journey through the Underdark was gloomy but largely uneventful until a time while camped that we were ambushed by hideous hook-handed monsters of the deep caverns. We fought relatively well, and Fflam demonstrated a newfound prowess with his seemingly favored weapon of Alchemists Fire.

Somewhat later, we came to a great underground lake. We made the trip across on a Duergar boat powered by magic. Truly an impressive thing! Walter-Tupper spent much of the trip sketching what was meant to be either the lake, the boat, both, or the contents of his stomach - I could not tell which.

On the other side of the lake was a Duergar city - a place of strict laws it seems. I feel comfortable in such an environment, but worry about some of the others. In fact, nearly all of us have spent our time here so far worrying about Alcander and what he might do. Many of the Duergar are detectable as evil, and we've been concerned that he try to kill them at random. Meanwhile, Fflam has kept heavily concealed as it seems his folk and the Duergar harbor implacable hatred for one another.

However, rather than cause trouble and thereby getting us all killed, Alcander has stayed in his room, except to, quite rightly and wisely, pray for Walter-Tupper to answer the call of Heracles. As well he ought. In fact, I feel duty-bound to assist him so that Walter-Tupper may never feel a lack of concern for the well-being of his soul! We shall keep vigil so that he never feels left out or neglected by the benevolence of the gods.

Meanwhile, it was not Alcander, but Jacob who has done something worrying. The fool, or villain - time shall reveal - wandered around Duergar city until somehow he managed to find a human or at least humanish being who spoke, of all languages, DEMONIC. He then thought it fitting to purchase a magic-radiating book on Demonology from this individual. He then, quite blithely, walked into the common room of our inn radiating powerful magic and evil. When asked about it, he proceeded to lie, until called out for his lies.

We were not pleased.

I have this strange dread, though I'm not certain why, that this is Hrogar all over again. What could be the connection between the two? How mysterious! We seized the book from him, but otherwise tabled action until we are out of city. Once safely outside the reach of Duergar law, we will attempt to destroy this book, and will deal with Jacob. We hope he will be reasonable. If not, well, perhaps we can purge his soul of evil before sending him to the hereafter.

*A*

Warrior Path

I have come to revelation about Alcander. For all of his skills at fighting and surviving battles he is no better then a mindless barbarian. He has shown several times that he cares more about destroying evil then the well being of his commands or even himself.

Do not get me wrong the world and armies need fighters like him, but a strong willed leaders is needed to keep them in place, but for our small group I think he might end up being the main cause of our deaths.

The thing that frightens me the most is the longer I am around him the more I am acting like him. Charging blindly, not using anything I was taught. My master would be disappointed that I am not using my head. He told me several times that a warrior that does not use his wits is a warrior that does not use his greatest weapon. Anyone can swing a sword but people that use tactics win the wars.

I need to meditate long and hard and find my way back to true warrior path.

Oda

Journal of Fflam

Day... 125 or so?

Day 1 of my imprisonment, at least... although I doubt there will be many, one way or another.

It feels it has been a long time since I was locked in a cell. But in truth, I suppose that night was not all that long ago...

I suppose I should set down the reason that I am here in the first place. My entire life, I grew up being taught to hate humans. My father never forgave them for his injuries, and was bitter that their settlement near our hold was allowed to stay there.

A human trader had come to our hold, Gantrickthale, to conduct business, to purchase some of my ores for a substantial sum, about the same time I was preparing to leave to train to be a holy warrior of Moradin in the Dwarf city of Ozu-Zarkh. I was spending what was to be my last night with my friends in the hold's only tavern, and the tradesman was there as well, celebrating the closing of a deal. For whatever reason, he had brought his daughter along, a young woman without any sort of manners. She seemed to think this bar full of dwarves was a good place to throw around jokes about being short! No doubt she'd been collecting them, for though she was taller than any dwarf, she was quite small for a human.

After a time, I'd had enough of this, and decided to scare some sense into her. I forget the details, but I made some threatening gesture with my axe, without intending to harm her, but before I knew it, she had disarmed me and knocked me to the ground! She moved so quickly that I barely knew what had happened. At that point, the ale I'd had took over and we fought. When the fight was broken up, her father was there, swearing that the deal he'd made earlier was off. I was hauled off to a cell while the hold's elders (one of whom is my father's mother) undertook an inquiry.

The hold's elders soon found out that this whelp had practically been inciting a fight, and when the girl's father heard of this, he decided to take the opportunity to discipline his daughter. He said he'd reinstate the purchase, provided Gantrickthale allowed his daughter to stay there, in the hopes she'd learn to be more tolerant. My grandmother apparently thought this a wonderful idea, and decided to return the sentiment. She sent me to train at a human city, Point of Origin, rather than Ozu-Zarkh. She will send for me to return home when she feels I've learned my lesson... whatever that turns out to be. I've been sending her updates of what we have done, but not so regularly as of late. I hope I'll have a chance to send her more...

Currently, the lesson I've learned is don't get caught alone with a powerful Drow priestess intent on turning you into a spider.

Prayer for the Damned

(This isn't so much in a journal as getting prayed. loudly, ever night. For those of you who are also praying for Tupper, you've probably learned this, too.)

Oh, Heracles, here the prayer of your humble servant.
Hear it on behalf of those you have called, who ignore your word.
Hear it on behalf of the godless, the lost, and the damned.
I pray not in my own name, but in the name of one who needs your light.
I beg for your intercession, in the name of Walter Tupper.
Help to bring him to your presence.
Let him find no sleep, until he sleeps in your glory.
Let him find no sustenance, until he eats of your righteousness.
Let no water quench his thirst, but that he drinks of your truth.
Aid me in bringing him to you, though it should cost his life and my own.
In your name,
Amen.

Journal of W. E. Tupper, Day 122

[A two-page spread is taken up with what looks like the aftermath of a particularly messy torture session with the letter O, whose armpit is now being molested by a hunchback Aztec temple.]


Day 122
The morning met us with horrible hook-handed creatures that clicked at us. This may not be a fair assessment of them, truth be told: they might be very dashing to other hook-handed creatures. Outside of a self-induced indentation on my forehead, no injuries of note.

We came across a huge underground lake, incredibly beautiful. Included a sketch of it to give you an idea of what it was like, spellbook: I spent most of the day drawing it while on the ferry boat.

The city on the other side is almost completely devoid of signs with Commonspeak, which I guess is to be expected in foreign realms. The inn we stayed at had a cog in the sign and served a slab-like dish that tasted like steak. Lestrum says it's commonly grown in these parts. While I'm sure that plenty of druids would (and likely do) cheer the idea of saving cows through farming, I am slightly less enthusiastic. Fortunately, I only have to eat here another day or so.

Of course, today was going far too peacefully to be a day in my life. So Jake went out and purchased a book on demon summoning, then brought it back to the inn hoping that the small army of paladins he travels with wouldn't notice or care that much. After we all knightslapped that idea down and chewed him out for Possession of Malicious Tome(s), he won't be doing something quite that stupid again anytime soon. (At least I hope so. Going to keep a serious watch on Jacob from here on in.) We eventually agreed to destroy the book once we were on the outskirts of town, in case its destruction led to the release of yet another horrifying evil upon the world.

I may make a point of not reading over my entries more than once, lest I be struck by how insane my life has become.

Alcander: Day 122

It is not uncommon that I am not impressed with the behavior of my companions. It is, usually, less common that I am completely appalled by it.

For instance why, in the name of Heracles and all other gods, would a man who claims to be good purchase an EVIL, MAGICAL book with instructions on the summoning of DEMONS.

I was already sitting in the inn with Flam. While not all men in this Durger city are evil, there are many, many of them. For the greater good, I must refrain from smiting any of them, so I stayed at the inn while the others wandered the city.

It does surprise me that none of my companions returned with any new equipment. These dwarves seem to make very high quality arms, and I would have thought that my companions, as reliant on their equipment rather than their manfullness as they are, would have gone in search of some. Instead, I'm not sure what they did.

Except for Jacob. He apparently set out to find the most evil thing he could possibly find. At least it cannot be said that he failed.

I will have to keep him in my sight the rest of the time we are in this city. I have promised not to hurt him while we're within these walls, but I have a longer memory than that. He had best be on his best behavior until we can destroy this damn book.

Also, I ought to remember to write my father regarding these Durger ships. They're not very fast, true, but a ship that moves by itself could be quite valuable. Especially if combined with Greek knowledge, which could surely make them faster.