Kale's Diary will start production this week. New monitor means I can look at my screen for more then 5 minutes without getting head aches! Plus my trip to TO is done. :) Posting will only happen when Tristan's diary is on par with Kale's. No spoilers for you guys! I'll be posting it right here in this thread.

So I wrote up all of Kale's diaries last night. Forgot it was a VERY small period of time and Kale doesn't have a large imagination. :) It needs some editing and it's ready for viewing. The players just got the first Lidu diary that corresponds, with Kale's second entry, which is the first story related entry. The first is more of an introduction, which I can most likely post whenever. I won't though. I'll post it with the Lidu before Kale's second entry.

I’ve been hearing voices, sometimes in my sleep, and sometimes when I just let my mind wander. Chattering, at the back of my brain, like the echo of a long forgotten conversation. Sometimes I hear the nattering of my foul twisted monsters long after I’ve released them back to the outlands. I wonder if I’m going insane. I know that only I hear the voices . . . the others don’t seem to notice.

Today our boat was assaulted by trolls. The monsters got more then they bargained for: in less then a minute they were all dead (torn to ribbons) and being tossed over the side of the ship to feed the fishes. There is truly little as savage as we floating in these waters.

Of the fight I can think of little of interest to report: Kale, Fredrick, and James charged straight into the heart of the monsters. They used their agility to tumble around the monsters, getting to flanking positions, and slicing into the monsters from all sides. Kiki used her crossbow to assault at distance and Buffy was there to heal anyone badly wounded.

I was amazed at how easily I was able to summon my pseudonatural creatures. It was second nature now. I could easily reach between the vale that separated our two universes to draw the outsider forth. From the moment that thing winked into existence to the moment after I allowed it to slip back from whence it came I could hear its mad muttering in my brain. The amazing thing is that although it was bubbling pure gibberish I felt that I could understand it.

“Come and meet your wormy doom!” I cried in insane chorus with the voice as my creature tore into rubbery troll flesh.

Then the battle was over. I let my creature feast on the carcasses. The sound of cartilage and bone splitting under the powerful beak filled the air as Kale stepped up to me.

“What does that mean,” Kale asked,

I didn’t understand him, “what does ‘what’ mean?” I asked.

“Come and meet your wormy doom,” he said repeating our phrase, which I had inadvertently spouted in common, “What does that mean?”

I simply pointed to my summons. The pseudonatural hippogriff’s skin crawled with hundreds of hair like tentacles. Kale suppressed a shiver and walked away. I realized that Kale couldn’t hear the voice . . . and I wondered (not for the first time) if the voice was on the outside of my head . . . or the inside . . .

That night we invited Skald to dine with us. I do hope no one has started rumors that I’m conducting these meals to route out any other potential traitors – that these meet and greets are a direct result of Conrad’s deceit. It’s is not my actual intent to uncover other liars and thieves in the crew (although that would be a welcome side effect), I merely want to avoid any more surprises. I would hope that anyone that dines with us can be at ease. I really do just want to get to know my crew better.

Skald was a shifty looking individual if ever one existed. He was exactly the first person someone might accuse of doing something. He had the perpetual look of someone guilty . . . of something! I did my best to put him at ease. I made sure he wasn’t the first crew member we interviewed and I made sure he understood that he wasn’t required to join us for dinner if it made him uncomfortable . . . although he probably knew that turning us down would make him look guilty . . . of something!

I tried to put him even more at ease by making small talk with the others. I asked him about his work load, his accommodations, how he liked his food, and even if he was keeping clean. I guess captains ask these things. He seemed to relax. I waited the entire meal before asking him about himself, and by the time we got those questions he seemed perfectly relaxed.

“So where about are from Skald?” I asked, trying to make it sound as nonchalant as possible, “I’m a bit curious.”

“Styes m’lady,” he said, “a rotten waterfront to the northeast. I used to be an advisor to a horrible man called Rashlen.” He glanced over at us at that point, perhaps thinking he’d said too much, but he continued anyways: “but it’s not like that, I didn’t really know what he was like. He fooled me. For years he fooled me. I knew he wasn’t the honorable man he claimed to be, but even I never could have guessed how badly I’d misjudged him. He . . . he . . . well let’s just leave it at he was a horrible man.

“Well, when I found out I tried to set things right, only I’m just one man, and most folks don’t seem to trust me. I couldn’t take this to the council, most of them are just as bad as Rashlen, and I couldn’t kill him, even after everything . . . I found I was no killer. So I burned down one of his warehouses (it was filled with opium at the time) and fled the city. I’ve been ducking his assassins and agents ever sense. I don’t know much about this island we’re sailing too, but I’m willing to bet that Rashlen’s long arms won’t reach me there. It sounds like a place were a person like me can finally stop having to watch his back at.”

His story sounded true and it explained why he was working for just room and board. He still looked suspicious but now I can imagine why: a man that’s constantly looking over his shoulder looks like someone with something to hide. I shifted the conversation back to more pleasant topics. Skald had just shared a great secret with us and I wanted to make him feel welcome. Too bad we can’t help sort out his problems for him, seems we have our own share without taking on new ones, but at the very least I hope that he can finally finds the peace he’s after at the end of our journey.

For now the voices are silent,
Cthulhu dreams

Author's notes: I remember next to nothing about this fight except that in this fight (or perhaps the one before it) Tristan used this catch phrase. I didn't invent this awesome line however; check out the thief line of games for its source.

Also when Tristan says "It’s is not my actual intent to uncover other liars and thieves in the crew" or when she suggests that those meals were "a direct result of Conrad’s deceit" Tristan is obviously lying. The meals are entirely a direct result of Conrad and are completely intended to route out any other traitors in their midst.

This interview is the only one that appears in these journals but we did have dinner with each of the named NPCs (except Conrad) and the only real note worthy moment was something Tristan wasn’t party too. James figured out that Lirith was from a noble background . . . but he never shared his information with the party . . . and never even talked with Lirith after the fact, so nothing ever came of it. More on this later as it is the start of a running joke.

I forget the previews!

Seeing as I'm updating every week again I suppose I should have add these previews to the authors notes.

Next time: The expedition suffers it's first casualty! Who could it be? Kale? Kiki? Fredrick? Kale? James? Buffy? Kale? Only time will tell. Maybe it was Kale. Also: Churtle and Tristan = Luke and Ben . . . (or is it Anakin and Ben?) And Urol stinks!

So come back next week to find out if someone (possibly Kale) dies!

Poor Kale.....

Kale ascended to gawdhood... ^_^

Last night we suffered our first casualty. I pray that it will be our last.

It was well after dark when our anchored ship shock as if it had struck something. I spoke yesterday about the oppressive fog and how it had grown so thick that we didn’t dare sail on . . . well something was stalking in that fog . . . something big. Hop-Toy woke me with the ships first tremors.

‘Wake,’ he croaked, ‘our log shakes! Perhaps a snake is about!’

“Relax,” I muttered, still half-asleep, “snakes don’t get that big . . .”

Then I felt the ship shake as well. I sat up. My bedside lantern has still lit from last night’s writing (dangerous habit) and I quickly turned up the wick to light up our cabin. Kiki and Churtle were already awake. Buffy was trying to climb under her pillow to block out the noise and the light. She had an early shift . . . I can’t say I blame her.

Suddenly the ship shifted to one side.

‘Snake!’ Screamed Hop-Toy.

“Man overboard!” came the cry from outside.

Kiki already had her knife. Even when it was too hot for bed clothes she had that damn knife under her pillow. Buffy jumped up suddenly wide awake. We all moved for the door at once.

“There’s something in the water,” yelled Davey, “Something grabbed him and pulled him over!”

I didn’t stop to ask who ‘him’ was. Something was attacking the ship. Something huge. If we didn’t act fast we could all be killed. I climbed up to the aft castle and launched a maximized fireball off the side of our vessel. I angled the blast to strike the water and avoid our ship completely. What I saw, when the explosion lit up the night sky and burnt off the fog, gave me shivers. An ooze, half the size of the ship, clunk to the side of our vessel . . . lurking just bellow the railing . . . waiting for its next meal to draw near. The monster was nearly transparent and I thought I could see someone struggling within its translucent body. I screamed in rage, launching more spells into the monster, and I was vaguely aware of others desperately attacking the thing with their weapons.

The fight seemed to go on for an entirety, in reality it must have been only a few seconds, but the monster finally ruptured. Its thin skin like membrane popped and its insides spilled out like clear, slightly congealed, gravy. We quickly pulled out our gaff hooks to try to save the poor unfortunate that had been pulled overboard . . . but it was too late. Mitch Tailor was dead. He and his family had booked passage in hopes of finding a better life in Farshore, but now, for Mitch, that dream has come to an end. We had a service for the late farmer and then we returned his body to the sea. Wee Jas guide you Mitch.

The ooze held the remains of no fewer then six other victims. It’s a stark reminder to us exactly how dangerous these waters can be. Our search of the remains brought us some rewards: a magical ring and a magical pair of gauntlets were pulled from the waters. Sadly these items were still attached to their previous owners. We removed the items and returned the dead to the sea with as much dignity as we could afford them.

After we were sure that the waters were safe we did a quick inspection of the ship (inside and out) to make sure we weren’t taking on water. The ooze didn’t appear to have been of the corrosive variety and although it had crushed and bent some of the boards out of the water, everything below the waterline seemed fine. Seeing as the waters were quite calm and the sunlight would be invaluable in repairing the ship, I decided that the repairs could wait till morning. We doubled the watch though; no one wanted to chance that the ooze was the only one of its kind in these waters.

Sleep didn’t come easy after that. I managed though. Hop-Toy promised to keep watch for me . . . and although he was just a toad . . . having someone watch over you while you slept, and having someone guard against the unknowns of dark (and those horrible night terrors) was somehow comforting.

When the sun did rise (and burnt off the fog) we set to our tasks. Amella and Orlani set to work repairing the side of the ship. Fredrick updated his charts. Churtle cooked breakfast. I made sure breakfast wasn’t poisoned, dealt with Avner, and saw to the rest of my duties. We all went about our daily lives . . . well aware that somewhere bellow deck Wynona and her son Will mourned over the body of Mitch Tailor. Perhaps some of us asked if it could have been them. Most were silently thankful it wasn’t. At noon we had a service for the late father and family man. We all tried to say something, some of us more creative and poignant then others, then we returned Mitch Tailor to the sea.

That afternoon, sometime after my turn at the helm ended, Churtle and I had an interesting conversation. I was looking through my books (as I often love to do) when I noticed our kobold cook staring at me. I ignored her for some time, actually I just got re-absorbed in my work, but when I looked up again I found her standing right next to me.

“How come you gots to study all the time boss?” she chirped.

“What do you mean Churtle?” I asked.

“Well,” she said, “backs home, in my little kobold village, Kurrp, he bes our great spell caster, Kurrp never studies. He just lies abouts all day. He only takes orders from chief. I asks him one time why he don’t reads and stuff and he says ‘when you mighty spell caster you don’t needs to read!’ Well I thinks you mighty-er spell caster then Kurrp. You never even runs away.”
“You like to read?” I asked.

“I likes to read stories about kobolds and dragons,” she said as she climbed up on the bench beside me, “there aren’t too many stories with them ins it that has happy ending. Usually kobolds and dragons get slain.”

I tried not to laugh. I had never thought about literature that way before, at the time it had seemed sort of funny, but now it seems profound. I guess most books are written with a bias and only have certain readers in mind.

“Getting back to your original question Churtle,” I said trying to get my mind off our little kobold reading Lady Sasserine and secretly rooting for the dragon, “your village spell caster was likely a sorcerer, I’m a wizard.”

“There’s difference?” she asked with surprise.

“Oh yes,” I said, this had been a topic of popular debate back at school, “fundamentally it’s a difference of where we get our power. Sorcerers have an almost innate ability to cast magic, they still have to refine and perfect their abilities, but much of what they can accomplish is simply in their blood. Wizards on the other hand need to study. Our spells only come after long hours of research, even then we are at a slight disadvantage in pure mystic might, but our diverse knowledge and wider spell selection often means that we’re able to make up that difference.”

“So yous have to works really hard for your spells?” she asked, “wouldn’t it be better if you could cast spells like Kurpp?”

“Maybe,” I said, “but I didn’t really have the choice. I wasn’t born with that gift. I needed to study to become a wizard. Being a sorcerer is quite often something your born with.”

“Like wings,” Churtle said nodding, “me wonders where ’it’ comes from?”

“Well,” I said thinking, “that’s something that’s been debated and studied as well. The most popular theory right now is that magic comes from the interbreeding of species. Sorcerers can cast spells because the blood of some powerful natural spell caster is in their veins.”

“Like dragons?” she asked. I was a bit surprised how fast she made the jump . . . well she probably had dragons on the brain.

“Yes,” I said, “exactly like dragons.”

“You thinks maybe Churtle has dragon blood in her?” she asked with excitement.

At first I thought the answer would be a definitive no, but then, as I looked down into her sparkling yellow eyes, I began thinking about her intelligence, loyalty, and reasoning skills and I began to have second thoughts.

“It’s possible Churtle,” I said.

“Oh boy!” she chirped, “You thinks I can become sorcerer like Kurpp?”

“Heavens no,” I said more bluntly then I intended, her face seemed to collapse.

“What I mean Churtle, is this,” I said quickly, “Sorcerers often have this strong powerful personality. Most people can tell when one walks into a room. I’m willing to bet that this lazy Kurpp was very influential and popular even though he didn’t have very good character traits? Well that’s part of a sorcerer’s mark. I’m sorry Churtle, but you don’t seem to carry that mark. We all like you, because we know you, but I don’t think you’d stand out in a group of kobolds. Besides, getting back to your original question, even if you did carry the mark like Kurpp, I really don’t think you could be a sorcerer like Kurpp. The only thing you’ve told me about Kurpp is that he’s lazy, and Churtle, your one of the hardest workers on this ship. Pound for pound you and Kiki are the ships best workers.

“Besides Churtle,” I said wrapping an arm around her, “you’re more like me then this Kurpp character. You like reading, don’t mind hard work, and you seem to love learning new things. I think you’re more like a wizard.”

“Really?” Churtle asked, with a look of amazement on her face.

“Oh definitely,” I said with sincerity, “perhaps it’s dragon blood, perhaps you are just an exceptional kobold, but you are without a doubt the smartest kobold I’ve ever met.” Truth is she’s the only kobold I’ve ever met, but I’ve read about them in various stories and journals, and I’m convinced that Churtle is a cut above others of her kind.

“Oh! You thinks I can become a wizard like you?” she asked blinking.

“I don’t know Churtle,” I said, “you’d need a vast library and a competent teacher . . .”

“What about yous?” she asked, “You the best wizard I knows!”

“You don’t . . .” know any other wizards I was going to say, but that would be admitting the same faulty logic I had just used. I paused, and thought for a few moments. “I can show you a little, but I’m no expert, you need to seek out a master.”

“Oks,” she chirped, “but you learning real fast boss, one day yous might be a master. Then I can learns from you!”

I quietly wondered what I was getting myself into. I was no expert. Teaching wasn’t something I’d ever done before. I was worried about the prospect. What if I made mistakes? What if I taught her wrong? What if she learned improper or dangerous techniques? I know some of the tricks I use (like my metamagic) are very dangerous to an untrained student. What if I teach her just enough to be dangerous (to herself and others)? Considering where we were headed, I doubt these were the worst of my worries, but that didn’t stop me from worrying about Churtle or my new role as teacher. Before we started I would make Churtle promise not to try any spells without me present. That promises never worked for me all those years ago at the academy . . . but who knows, Churtle is much older then I was, and she should be wise enough to realize the danger involved. Then again, she did ask me to teach her . . .

That night we dined with Urol. I think the gnome is insane. More so then I might be. He babbled on about all manner of topics, he tried to show us his bug collection, and then he prattled on about the Isle of Dread and our upcoming expedition to Tamoachan with glee. It seemed the more deadly something was the more excited and pleased Urol got. He seems to be like the rest of our group: completely oblivious to danger! He talked about man eating dinosaurs in the same tone as he might talk about a new species of flightless water fowl. He didn’t seem to have any sense of proportion. And the smell! Urol sat next to me and I unfortunately caught more then one whiff of his pungent odor. It was enough to put tears in my eyes. I imagine this is one reason Urol isn’t concerned about man-eating-dinosaurs: nothing would want to taste anything that smelled that bad!

Perhaps I am unkind to speak so poorly of him in my notes, the gnome is hardly able to defend himself, but that smell will haunt our cabin for some time. I think the others may have been secretly teasing me regarding the stench (Kiki and James in particular as they sat on the opposite side of the table) but between courses I cast a prestidigitation spell to blow wind across the table. The subtle laughter stopped and their faces went green. It was cruel of me to stoop to their level (namely using Urol’s unique smell against them) but they brought that upon themselves. I do hope that what Urol doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

I pray for no more surprises,
Cthulhu Dreams

PS: The ruins of Tamoachan are on a peninsula and not on an island like I had previously believed. It seems likely that we should reach the ruins within two weeks.

... I do believe we just got faked out.

Dooped!!!!

Oops, forgot the author’s notes again . . .

Author’s notes: Ok I was teasing you guys last week about Kale’s possible demise, but I did only say possible demise, and I only said “the expedition suffers it's first casualty”. Kale did get roughed up this fight, IIRC he was dropped to the negatives, but was quickly revived by Buffy. Two reasons this wasn’t included in the journals, first Tristan might not have realised how badly Kale was injured and thus didn’t think it was worth noting, and secondly, Tristan probably didn’t feel very much like writing about Kale at this point. More on that Later.

This was a tough fight, mainly because this thing couldn’t be beat with a grapple check, once you’re snagged your toast. Kale was the only member of our group to get snagged, and at the time, he didn’t have a light weapon.

One last thing, although Tristan did interview Urol, but we see nothing of note in this diary entry. Why? Well Tristan probably didn’t feel the gnome was a danger . . . that’s my in character excuse, out of character I can tell you that Tristan will be seeing more then enough of the gnome in the future and I really didn’t feel like writing more then necessary about the gnome at this point.

Next week: Tamoachan! Need I say more? Ok, how about this line up: Basilisks, demons, and mummy rot! Want more? How about this teaser: Kale stabs Tristan! Is that for real? Did you read that right? Kale actually attacks Tristan? Tune in next week to find out.

I’m probably just jerking you around again though . . .

Probably . . .

... I do believe we just got faked out.

Die Tristan die! *stab stab stab* Could this be the end of the Lidu diaries?

Die Tristan die! *stab stab stab* Could this be the end of the Lidu diaries?

I say the toad is the real Tristan, who will animate her corpse and continue to make use of that handy thumb to write the diary still.

Not that Tristan needs a conscience . . . but he's small and green and sits on Tristan's shoulder and I'm sure he'd totally wear a top hat if he had one.

Turin the Mad wrote:

I say the toad is the real Tristan, who will animate her corpse and continue to make use of that handy thumb to write the diary still.

Hop-Toy is much wiser then Tristan. Often he reminds me of Jiminy Cricket . . .

Not that Tristan needs a conscience . . . but he's small and green and sits on Tristan's shoulder and I'm sure he'd totally wear a top hat if he had one.

Hop Toy, magic jar receptacle for Tristan's contingent magic jar spell...

Turin the Mad wrote:

Hop Toy, magic jar receptacle for Tristan's contingent magic jar spell...

Too bad magic jar is necromancy (Necromancy and Illusion are Tristan's opposed schools). Although that would be an awesome ability for anyone with a familiar to have . . . maybe you should write up a high level feat for it or something. :)

Guy, still enjoying the journals. My only complaint is they're not coming fast enough! Keep up the great work.

Guy, still enjoying the journals. My only complaint is they're not coming fast enough! Keep up the great work.

The other thing about writing three times a week would be that you would eventually catch up to where we're playing. Then there'd only be an update once every two weeks (that's how often we play STAP).

great as always ! And I find it absolutely fascinating that Urol, wherever he seems to creep up, features death-defying personal hygiene....

He was credited with being the only gnome who's breath could repel swarms and slay cockroaches around here, may his (tiny) bones rest easily in Golismorga.

Looking forward to the next installment

.....
He was credited with being the only gnome who's breath could repel swarms and slay cockroaches around here, may his (tiny) bones rest easily in Golismorga.
.................

Since he has the the "danger sense" of an addled mine-sniffing dog, I don't expect him to be around much longer though , since we are approaching the "Isle" ( he chickened out on us with the Sargasso, which looked like a fine opportunity to commit suicide ).... and the arcane trickster has already "dozed" him once and put inside a sacrophagus (in Tamoachan) which he then closed to get rid of him.

Unfortunately, we are overall too honourable overall to follow through on that... =( But he is less popular even that Avner - which is quite an achievment, and bodes ill for his future.

"Kommt Zeit kommt Rat, kommt Attentat !", as the German saying goes

Oh, and I love this diary, since you guys are (in this publication) just about three sessions behind our group... Don't play too swiftly , or this will become too "spoilery" to read.

Oh, and I love this diary, since you guys are (in this publication) just about three sessions behind our group... Don't play too swiftly , or this will become too "spoilery" to read.

I wouldn't worry too much about me catching up anytime soon, I think I'm about 9 entries away from finishing SWW at this point (6 of which are finished and are simply waiting to be posted).

I can't see why people hate Urol so much, our DM played him as an insanely cheerful, innately curious, danger and death loving gnome. He fit in well enough with the rest of our party.

as for Urol being hated - speaking for my campaign, I tried to introduce him "neutrally", but the characters immediately took umbrage to the fact that he had basically "bought" a stop at Tamoachan which they would have to deal with.
The fact that he gravely underestimated the dangers at Tamoachan didn't help, but everyone grew fonder of him, first on the Sargasso ( I used him to pipeline some useful information the party had missed out on ) and later on the Isle itself.
hey, they even took him on as a cohort in ToD, but that didn't really stop them from commenting on his bad breath ( a trademark I has established early, him being an avid chewer of garlic, as well as having a mean spitting/hawking habit ) and other notoric shortcomings.

He is dead now, his knowledge surviving him for a short while due to the

MASSIVE "Lightless Depths"

But I guess, he also had outlived his "funny" potential by then

interesting quote by nevermind though

"comes times, comes wisdom, comes the assassination attempt" am I correct ?
Your group's planning anything nefarious or unsavoury for him ?

as for Urol being hated - speaking for my campaign, I tried to introduce him "neutrally", but the characters immediately took umbrage to the fact that he had basically "bought" a stop at Tamoachan which they would have to deal with.
The fact that he gravely underestimated the dangers at Tamoachan didn't help, but everyone grew fonder of him, first on the Sargasso ( I used him to pipeline some useful information the party had missed out on ) and later on the Isle itself.
hey, they even took him on as a cohort in ToD, but that didn't really stop them from commenting on his bad breath ( a trademark I has established early, him being an avid chewer of garlic, as well as having a mean spitting/hawking habit ) and other notoric shortcomings.

Also: Welcome! I didn't realize that you were a new poster till I re-read the name.

I think our DM handled the introduction to Tamoachan really well, I can't remember if I mentioned it here or the upcoming entry or not, but it bares repeating: Rather then simply force us to accompany the gnome into the ruins Lavinia asked if we'd be willing to accompany him . . . he gave us the impression that Urol would be going no matter what, but if he wonder off alone he'd likely die . . . and seeing as he was one of the few people in the expedition with any experience on the Isle of Dread we decided that we'd better accompany him.

Not that dungeon delving is a tough sell for most characters in the party, but I think that bit of choice we were given made all the difference. Also Urol doesn't ask for a share of the treasure, he warns us about basilisks, and offers stone salves free of charge. He's quite a generous little character when you get right down to it . . . sorry to see your Urol didn't live through the lightless depths . . . I'll have to wait a few weeks to read the spoiler though, we just started the lightless depths last session.

All right I'm in bit of a rush this morning so I'll do up the notes and the preview later on tonight.

I’m worried about Kiki, I want to kill my crew, and my wound aches. I want to blast whoever wrote those romantic adventures I read when I was a child and strangle whoever gave Urol that map. Adventuring is not fun.

We arrived at Tamoachan late last night and we departed for the ruins early this morning. Urol was kind enough to let us know about the possibility of basilisks. Nice of him to mention that little detail only after everyone agreed to help him. The gnome is crazy like a fox. Urol tells us he has plenty of stone salve to turn us back to normal should the worst happen . . . I didn’t plan on taking any chances. I selected spells that I thought would remove that threat before we even got close. There are far too many things that can go wrong without taking needless risks.

The ruins can be seen from the ship but it took over an hour to hike up to the location on Urol’s map. Everyone was on edge knowing that basilisks were about but it turns out our fears where misplaced. We should have been more worried about what was inside those ruins rather then what guarded the outside! The basilisk turned out to be no serious threat at all . . . everything else we encountered was . . .

We pushed through the jungle to find a clearing with several humanoid statues in it. On the far side of the clearing I caught movement. I closed my eyes and filled the area with webbing. Whatever it was was trapped in the webs. I reached into my belt pouch and pulled out my mirror, normally I only used this to fix my hair and face, but now I was going to use it to slay a basilisk. To turn someone to stone (I’ve heard) a basilisk must make direct eye contact. As long as I used my mirror to target my spells I believed I would be safe.

“Alright everyone,” I said as I began backing through the glade, “I’m going to hit this thing with a fireball, which will burn through the webs, I want everyone in a position to take this thing down as soon as the flames and webs clear.”

It was a good plan, but again, completely unnecessary. Being cautious by nature, I didn’t dare take any risks with my companion’s lives. I slowly backed my way into a position where I could hit the basilisk with my spells. I had done a really good job of gumming up the place with my webs. It took a few moments of searching before I could even find the creature. Finally, after skirting the edge of my webs, I caught sight of the shape of the monster some ten feet in. The webs were so thick that I could scarcely make the thing out, but if I targeted the creature here, I’d be caught in my own blast radius. After a few more moments of searching I spied an angle that would let me blast the monster, avoid being caught in my own spell, and take down most of the webs so my teammates could (hopefully) destroy the monster with a well coordinated volley. I told everyone to stand ready . . . then I blasted the helpless lizard with my fireball. I even added a little extra kick to the spell, namely that trick I used to maximize the spell in Lavinia’s basement, and another trick that I’d been working on that sort of empowered the spell.

The blast was impressive. The flames were extraordinary. The heat was incredible. The webs were destroyed. The basilisk . . . was dead. As I surveyed the damage I concluded that I might have been able to kill the thing without first trapping it, but again, I’m glad I didn’t take that risk. The others seemed impressed with the carnage. I just felt relief.

We moved into the ruins. I can only imagine at the splendor that this place one held. It had probably been the temple of some cat deity (judging by the carvings on the walls), but the place was crumbling and forgotten now, and it’s people gone or dead. All that remained was the stonework . . . and even that would be washed away through the ravages of time. There had once been five tunnels branching off from the once magnificent ziggurat, but of those five, only two remained open. Perhaps, if we had time, the collapsed tunnels might be excavated and explored, but this wasn’t an option today. We decided to explore the northern tunnel first.

Inside the ruins we discovered an ancient archway that rippled with dark eldritch energy. Buffy stopped and scratched her head as she looked over the runes but clearly wasn’t able to piece together what she was seeing. We had Kiki look it over but she found nothing odd. There was an odd sensation as I walked under the arch, like someone ran an icy finger up my spine, but other then that the effect seemed harmless. James, Fredrick, and Orlani looked as though they were far worse affected by the ancient magic, but in moments they recovered. Everyone, save for Urol, who was eagerly copying down the runes, spilled into the room beyond. The floor of this great chamber once held a grand map, likely of the city above, but it now lay in ruins (much like the city above). In the center of the map was a mysterious platform. Most of our group moved forward to try to speculate and determine the platform’s unknown uses when a great wall of fire appeared behind us! Suddenly we were cut off from the exit, our shock turned to horror moments later as the wall of fire started to move forward!

James, Kiki, Fredrick, and Orlani frantically began searching the platform for any way of disabling the trap while the rest of us ran for the only escape we could see: a large natural cavern in the eastern wall. The heat from the wall was unbelievable! From where we were standing (some twenty feet away) we felt wilted from the heat. As the wall of flame got closer the heat only got worse! The four could only look for a moment before they were forced to flee for their lives. Kiki was still smoking when she dove into the crack. Thankfully the wall of fire (and its oppressive heat) didn’t extend past the walls of the map room. For the time being we were safe.

It was about that time that we realized Urol wasn’t with us!

“Urol,” I called out, “Urol are you alright?”

“What’s that,” I heard him shout over the roar of the wall of fire, “I’m fine, these runes are fascinating! I should like to make a copy of this map on the floor before we leave here. Are you alright? I can’t see you anymore. Where is everyone?”

“We’re fine,” I shouted back, “the tunnel to the next room collapsed, but we found a natural tunnel that we’re going to explore. Hopefully it’ll lead to a way out.”

“What?” Urol shouted back, the roar of the fire had begun to subside, but I was moving into the tunnel to see where the others had gotten too, and the jagged stone walls didn’t carry sound well.

“I said we’re fine!” I cupped my hands around my mouth, trying to yell louder, “We’re going to explore these . . .”

“There’s no need to shout,” Urol said stepping into the tunnel, “I’m not deaf.”

“How did you . . .”

“I waited for the fire to move past then I just followed,” he said, “a bit of an inconvenience . . .”

“Wait, the flames didn’t move toward you?” I asked.

“No,” he said looking about the tunnels, “I think it only moves north. Not very fast either. I imagine that when this place was first built the un-collapsed tunnel would seal itself off somehow so that there was no way out of that room, meaning that those unfortunates trapped behind the fire wall would die a painful fiery death, and as an added benefit the monsters the Oman priest kept in this place would have a nice hot meal . . .”

“Lovely,” I muttered.

“Oh it is! Very convenient and effective! Not at all like the smoosh you flat or grind you to paste traps we see in the later periods or in other cultures. The Omans were all about use as well as utility. Quite eloquent really . . .”

I did my best to ignore Urol as he happily prattled on about death traps made by other cultures through out history. I (like the others) followed the tunnel. The gnome was just getting to the ingeniousness of his own people’s traps when we found ourselves once again in a man made room. Horrible images of a bat like creature devouring humans covered the walls. A large, unadorned, iron wall looked strangely out of place in the meticulously sculpted room.

“This looks like the work of magic,” I said as I ran my hand over the smooth cold wall, “probably a wall of iron spell.”

“Do you think there’s anything behind it?” Kale asked.

“Oh yes!” said Urol, “you can tell by the carvings. This was probably just the antechamber. There is undoubtedly more beyond. This was probably the result of some sort of trap . . . probably the trap to a tomb. You know most traps are designed to keep people out, but not traps designed for tombs, they’re designed to keep people in!”

We all glanced at Urol for a moment.

“Should we try to get through this?” Kale eventually asked.

“Yes,” Urol and Kiki answered at the same time, the others seemed to reluctantly agree, but getting through the wall proved to be easier said then done. Although our steel weapons were capable of leaving scratches and dents in the iron wall a minute of pounding on the thing didn’t net us any notable results. That’s when we tried magic. Buffy cast bull strength on Kale and we saw a notable improvement immediately. Still, even with Kale’s improved power, it took quite a bit of time before there was a man sized hole in the wall.

The room beyond almost looked like the trapped room we had just escaped (which naturally had me worried about another fire trap) but this room was better preserved and the buildings looked slightly different. There was a pyramid instead of a platform in the center of this room for example. It almost seemed like a different part of the same city. Naturally Urol was quite excited. Kiki edged toward the pyramid in the center of the room.

“Wait!” I said, “Remember what happened when you guys started looking at the platform in the other room? Let’s look everything over before we fiddle with that!”

Kiki gave me a sulky look but Fredrick discovered a massive stone calendar in the next room and her attention quickly shifted. Fredrick and Kiki spotted a nest made of bone and debris atop the calendar. They were just about ready to climb up and investigate when something rose from the nest. The creature was a varrangoin, a skull faced bat like demon, and my companions didn’t know it yet, but we were in deep trouble. Compared to some of the monsters we’d faced, the varrangoin wasn’t a heavy hitter, but this creature was all but immune to weapons not made of cold iron. Kale would likely be the only one who could hurt it (and that’s through pure brute strength).

The fight started about as well as I expected it to start. Initially we were unable to hurt the thing, the creature also had spell resistance, my first spell flowed harmlessly over its body like water, and to make matters worse: it had a breath weapon! I had forgotten about that! Kiki, James, and Kale were able to roll and avoid the creature’s blast, but the rest of us weren’t as quick or nimble. I tried to stay away from the others. When I drew my wand of magic missiles I knew I’d become a target . . . if the creature saw a group of us he’d use his breath weapon for sure. My only hope was to weaken it enough that the others could finish it off after it inevitably took me out . . . thankfully I wasn’t required to make that sacrifice. Help came from an unexpected source: a tiny ball of light (sometimes known as a will-o’-wisp) appeared beside the varrangoin and began blasting it with electrical blasts.

“Get out of my home!” came the ghostly echo from the wisp as it blasted the demon. We used every bit of help we could get. Together, the wisp inadvertently working for our group, we were able to destroy the abyssal intruder (with explosive results). I had no illusions that this would make us allies though, and once the demon fell, the wisp turned on us. This was (in many ways) an easier fight for us. The wisp proved to be a small and illusive target, but once we hit the little monster it had no damage resistant hide to protect it, and every cut counted. Finally the wisp fell. In no small part due to Kale’s sword, Buffy’s mace, and my spells . . . the others had inexplicably vanished.

Thankfully I didn’t have to wait long to find out what happened to our companions. During the battle with the Varrangoin Kiki had crept off to explore. Fredrick had decided to follow. Sometime after the wisp appeared, and sometime before it fell, James noticed some of his companions missing and went to investigate . . . Orlani (knowing James would get into trouble on his own) followed. Turns out Kiki and Fredrick had searched the stone calendar as we battled the varrangoin, James and Kiki explored the chamber beyond as we battled the will-o’-wisp.

“Look what I found!” Kiki said holding up a golden bat statue.

I gasped.

“Where did you get that?” Kale asked.

“Over there in that burial chamber.” Kiki said pointing to a dark passage. “It was the only thing in there, honest.”

I closed my eyes and imagined a world were my companions were precautious, careful, and sane. Then I tried to imagine myself safe and sound somewhere in that world. I found the exercise somehow relaxing. Kiki must have mistaken my calming exercise as disappointment or skepticism over her claims.

“Honest Tristan,” she said, “There was nothing else there. You can check my pockets if you want. All those bodies and only one was buried with anything, the rest had no treasure or nothing, maybe someone cleaned this place out before us.”

“Let me see that statue,” Buffy said, she looked it over, and for a moment looked as though she were going to say something profound, but just like that, the moment passed and Buffy shrugged, “Looks like Camazotz, a bat god of the Omans, you can see carvings of Camazotz all over this place.” Buffy was right, there were monstrous bat carving all over the place, and now we had a name to go with the face.

We decided to search the place from top to bottom before we attempted to look at the pyramid but we found nothing. No secret doors, no long lost books or scrolls, no treasure of any kind. Urol used the time to begin sketching out the place for his notes . . . and that kept him and the others entertained for a while . . . but soon Kiki began eyeing the pyramid in the center of the room again.

“I think there’s a hidden compartment in it,” Kiki said, “if you guys want to get out of the room I’ll check it for traps.”

“Be careful,” I said, “and take your time.”

“Sure, sure, you better scoot,” she said turning back to the pyramid, “I got work to do,” she said rubbing her hands together.

Everyone moved out of the room, somehow I was pushed through first, and by the time the others had moved clear of the opening I caught the sight of Kiki moving to open the lid. It was too soon. There was no way she could have done a thorough search of the box in that time! I wanted to yell at her, to tell her to stop, but it was too late. No sooner did Kiki push off the lid then a horrid black cloud erupted from the pyramid almost completely filling the room!

“Kiki!” I screamed, “Kiki!”

“I’m ok,” Kiki coughed, “I think I may have breathed some of that in. I don’t think it was poisonous though.”

We all surged back into the room to check on our halfling companion. Buffy quickly moved over to examine Kiki but Kiki seemed more interested in the contents of the pyramid then being pawed over by Buffy. We soon discovered that the model pyramid had much in common with its full sized counterparts: namely it was a crypt as well! Inside we found the remains of (what we guessed) was once an Oman priest. He had been bound with leather cords.

“Probably buried alive,” Urol happily added, as he edited his notes. I shuddered. I hated tombs and the dead.

“He looks like a mummy,” Kiki said rubbing her temples and suppressing a cough, “only without all the bandages.”

“Mummy rot!” Gasped Buffy.

“That’s what I said, ‘a mummy’,” Kiki said trying to laugh through a cough, “a mummy in a pyramid!”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Buffy mumbled, “I think you have mummy rot.”

We all gasped. I’ve heard stories about the dreaded decease but had no real idea about its effects in real life. In the stories once you got it you were dead. I certainly hoped that this wasn’t the case in real life.

“I’m too young to die!” Kiki cried.

“Don’t worry,” Buffy said, “I can cure it . . . probably.”

“Probably?” Kiki and I asked.

“Well in all likelihood,” she said, “it just might take some time. I’ve just never done it before.” My heart skipped a beat. I instantly thought back to the ‘operation’ on Conrad a few weeks back. Thank Wee Jas that Kiki had missed seeing that mess.

“I know you’ll be fine,” I said to Kiki, “Buffy here is going to fix you right up. How soon can you do it Buffy?”

“Um, not till tomorrow,” she said scratching her head, “but don’t worry dying from mummy rot can take a long time.”

I bit my lip. Kiki’s eyes went wide.

“What I mean is we’ll have lots of time to try to fix it.” Buffy quickly added.

“Is it contagious,” James asked, “is Kiki safe around others?”

“Oh it should be perfectly safe,” Buffy said, “with very little doubt, I’m pretty sure it can only be passed through touch.”

We all glanced into the pyramid . . . then to poor Kiki.

“Touch of a mummy I mean,” Buffy added, “that cloud must have been a part of a magical trap. Mummy rot doesn’t normally spread that way. The crypt should be safe, but I wouldn’t put my hands near my eyes or mouth after touching that thing.”

The poor Oman priest was just a long dead. There was nothing unusual about him, save that he was wearing jewelry, and had magical prayer beads. We gave Kiki the task of picking the body clean as it was unlikely that she could get any sicker and it was what she wanted to do anyways. Urol, in the meantime, began exploring and sketching out the room for his notes. We gave him as much time as we could (after all he wasn’t asking for a share of the treasure, and it was his map that got us here) but after a few hours we told him that we needed to leave. Urol was unusually somber and morose at that point. I think he may have been disappointed to leave the death and deadly traps behind.

“Don’t worry,” said James hopefully, “we’ll still have the Isle of Dread.”

“That’s right!” said Urol, visibly perking up, “Lot’s of horrid death and danger there! I bet this will seem like a stroll on Ancestor Island by the time we’re finished there.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I wondered if the need for danger was a gnomish thing or a male thing. I suspect that it may be a good mix of both.

Avoiding the fire trap on the way out was simple timing. It always moved at the same speed. It always traveled the same route. Once it was past a certain point on the wall over half of us were able to file out and make our escape, the others had to wait for the next wall of fire to form and pass by.

Once outside I was tempted to not press the Lady’s lover and travel back to our ship but again the others didn’t want to leave anything behind. We decided to explore the one remaining tunnel. This time, however, I wasn’t taking any chances. I summoned a pseudonatural dog to explore the tunnels ahead of us. I think this was the right move. Following directly behind Kale wasn’t.

No sooner did my beast enter the chamber then the world seemed to fill with madness. It was a gibbering and chattering unlike anything I had ever experienced. The cackling sent out waves of insanity that seemed to virtually vibrate along the floors and walls. This wave hit me like a needle . . . like a needle in the back of the eye, and I knew the voice was attempting to pierce my brain and trying to fill it with all kinds of lunacy. I seized the first emotion I could (anger) and filled my very being with it. I knew if I could ignore the near constant barrage of voices, dreams, and the dark impulses I knew I could resist this foreign muttering. I tossed the voice aside like a barbarian would the written word. I prepared my magics to confront the orator of those sounds.

That’s when I noticed the unusually dull glint in Kale’s eyes. His face was twisted in confusion and rage. He looked strait at me, though without the hint of recognition in his face, and stabbed me with his sword. I must confess I felt nothing. I thought I should be terrified, crippled with pain, I thought Kale might kill me with a single blow, but the strange thing is I felt absolutely nothing . . . except the white hot rage that had been building inside me.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry Tristan,” Kale cried as he suddenly snapped to his senses, “I didn’t mean it! Something crawled into my head! Are you ok?”

I answered by beginning a larger summons. Behind me others fought with madness. It all became a dull roar. As my summons was finished I stepped into the room. I cast magic missiles and ordered my creatures to attack. I blasted the monster (a horrible little creature known as a gibbering mouther) with every remaining spell I had . . . and gave it a good taste of my wands when I ran out of those. It seemed that I forced every fear, every horror, and every ounce of anger I had experienced that day I twisted them into those spells. Blasting the hell out of that monster was somehow cathartic. The gibbering mouther had somehow become a fetish for my anger! All too soon the thing let loose a death rattle and would gibber no more. I was vaguely aware that the others had joined in the battle but I had no desire to interact with them till after the aberration was dead. Even then, the world and my friends seemed far away, and I wondered to myself if this is what it felt like when you were insane.

I realized that Kale had stepped in front of me.

“Are you ok Tristan?” he asked.

I ignored him; or rather I failed to acknowledge him, and continued to stare through him at the monster. The voices of the others seemed distant and far away. I could hear my own heart beat. I could hear my own breathing.

“Are you trying to intimidate me?” Kale asked. The absurdity of that question brought me instantly crashing down into reality.

“What?” I asked, still unable to believe my ears.

“Tristan are you ok?” Kiki asked running over.

“That’s a pretty nasty looking wound,” Buffy said, “Let me fix it up for you.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” I lied, as I released my anger, the pain came flooding in. It took every ounce of strength I had left not to wince as Buffy looked it over.

“Here,” Buffy said, “let me heal that up for you.” Thankfully the spell took the edge off. “You should be right as rain in the morning. The rest should heal itself.”

Our search of the caves and the ruins outside netted us some more baubles. I remained in deep meditation throughout.

‘Are you worried about going insane’ Hop-Toy asked, ‘it’s a bit late to start worrying about that.’ He climbed out of my pocket and onto my lap. ‘It’s a dangerous path you’ve chosen Tristan, but you know the risks as well as the rewards, being suddenly afraid of the consequences solves nothing.’

I ignored him.

‘You must relax your mind, the reed will bend, but the tree will break. Are you worried about the others? Don’t be. Your moods will be like the ripples on the water. When the bull steps into the pond the others will learn to hide.’

Hop-Toy was growing more intelligent. He often liked to listen in on our conversations and offer his own opinions. Because he was a toad no one (other then me) understood him, and Hop-Toy was aware of that fact, but that never stopped him from speaking his mind.

‘Are you worried about what you might do? You are, at the heart, an honest and kind person. That will never change. But you risk much when you bottle your emotions. What happened today was a powerful reaction, the mouth monster was only a catalyst, you’ve allowed your emotions to build and build without releasing them, and now you’re worried about your violent outburst? Did I ever tell you about the bull frog in the pond before? Frogs are stupid creatures, not at all like us toads, and one day this big fat fly eating frog spies a bull near his pond. He thinks to himself ‘I’ll just make myself big and chase that fat mammal away’ and so he begins filling himself up with air. This is what happens when we cold bloods get too much sun by the way Tristan. Which reminds me of another valuable lesson: don’t get too much sun! Anyways, where was I? Oh yes, the frog pumps himself full of air, and the bull does nothing. The frog thinks he must not be able to see me yet. So he pumps himself even up with even more air. Again the bull does nothing. So the frog thinks ‘this time I’ll really show him’, frogs are so stupid I’ll remind you, and the frog tries to fill himself up with even more air. Well you might guess what happens next: a stork sees him and eats him. The stork gets a bit of gas from all that air but that’s another, much shorter story. Think of your emotions as the air, let the air flow through you (like it did for that stork), and don’t bottle them up or else you might get all swollen up like that frog.’

With that little bit of wisdom my toad climbed back into my pocket and went back to sleep.

The other finally finished with their searching and we made our way back towards the boats. It was well past noon and I was anxious to get back to the ship to see what Churtle had cooked for lunch. The others finally seemed happy to put this little stint of adventuring behind us and return to comfort and (relative) civilization of our ship. The walk back was easier and quicker then the walk in and in no time we found ourselves safely on the beach. James and Kale soon had as along side our ship and Davey and Rodger had their hooks out to steady us along side the wyvern. That’s when Kiki coughed.

Rodger suddenly jerked to attention. “Oi, what’s wrong with her?” he shouted.

“Nothing,” I snapped, “throw down the ladder.”

“Ain’t nothing,” he said, “she’s all pale and gaunt.”

I glanced over at Kiki and in the afternoon sun she truly did look pale and sickly. There was no way to hide it.

“She got a curse from one of the traps, a magical disease; Buffy’s going to cure her tomorrow. She wasn’t prepared for this problem today.”

“A disease!” gasped Rodger.

“A curse!” hollered Davey.

“I’ve got no patience for this right now,” I snapped, “Throw down the ladder right now!” The two unhooked their gaff poles from our row boat.

“Fredrick,” I said turning to our navigator, “Talk some sense into this two before I loose it!”

“Look here you two,” Fredrick said looking up at the mutinous sailors, “Buffy has assured us that Kiki is no harm to others. Whatever she has isn’t catching. This disease, this cold really, is at best only temporary, by tomorrow Kiki will be doing handstands again.”

“Sorry sir,” Davey said, “but it’s dangerous to let disease onboard ship. Maybe you could camp out on the beach until . . .”

“Unacceptable,” I snapped, “I want to see Amella right this instant!”

By the time Amella poked her head over the side of the ship I could hear dozens of people talking aboard ship. I had no illusions over what they were talking about. A few even dared peer over the railing for a quick peek. Amella herself took a look at Kiki before looking at me.

“What can I do for you captain?” she had the nerve to ask.

“Talk some sense into this crew before I have to whip some sense into them!”

“Just a moment,” she said before turning to her crew, she shouted, she cursed, threatened violence on them (and their mothers), but I could Tell her heart really wasn’t in it. Amella was scared of whatever Kiki had. Scared of it spreading to the crew. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been angry with her, but at that moment, with Kiki quietly coughing beside me, I could care less about their damn fears. I wanted everyone safely onboard. Amella returned to the side of the ship, “Sorry captain, but they’re scared and I can’t sway them, maybe you could set up a camp on the shore and we’ll see you get fresh food and water till Buffy cures Kiki.”

I held back a curse of my own. We really didn’t have a choice. We turned our boat around, returned to the shore, and built a camp for the night. I sat on the beach and glared at our ship. No one on board dared look my way. After a while (at Hop-Toy’s insistence) I moved to the shade. We fair-skinned Suel burn easily.

They did eventually send out a supply ship with food and water. Tavey, Churtle, Skald, and Lirith were onboard and were genuinely happy to see us and hear of our adventures. Churtle asked if we needed any more supplies. I told her no.

“Maybe I could make some of my special recipes . . .” she said, heavily hinting.

“No Churtle, we’ll be fine, and tomorrow I suspect we’ll be back aboard our ship . . . sailing towards,” I suppressed a shudder, “the Ile of Dread.”

“It’s just that I don’t thinks anyone would mind if you came back aboard after they gots a belly full of my food!”

“We’ll be fine I promise.” I said. Although I secretly thought about turning Churtle’s cooking skills loose on them, it would be a bad idea, and would solve nothing. I hope things improve tomorrow.

Adventuring is for fools,
Cthulhu dreams

It's been a while since I posted. Nice entries as usual.

Lord save us from inquisitive halfling rogues. :D

It's been a while since I posted. Nice entries as usual.

Lord save us from inquisitive halfling rogues. :D

Speaking of halflings, whatever happened to your Belkar avatar?

So where are you guys actually at in the campaign now? Any chance you could quickly post the classes, races and levels of the other party members at where they are at in your journal?

Author’s notes: Darn it all! I thought these entries would be shorter!

Ok, let’s look at the damage to the poor basilisk: (6D6 maximised = 36) + ( empowered = ½ 6D6 = 9) + (burning webs = 2D4 = 4) = 49 on average (save for half of 45). I can’t remember what I rolled but poor Mr Basilisk was one toasty critter.

It’s hard to believe but less then half of us had magic weapons for the fight against varrangoin, never mind cold iron, and Tristan seems to roll very poorly against SR. The varrangoin by itself might have taken a couple of PCs out if the will-o-wisp hadn’t intervened! Kiki, Frederick, and James were more or less useless for this fight . . . and thus they decided to explore while we kept the demon busy . . . this might have been a bit of meta-gaming . . . the group thinking that there might be weapons to hurt the varrangoin laying about somewhere, but it worked out for the best because I doubt that Tristan would have been ok with Kiki taking the bat idol. She seems against grave robing.

Speaking of grave robing: Kiki’s player (BlackTygra on these boards) seems to forget about the take 20 rule far too often for my liking! Heck, she seems to forget about the take 10 most of the time! I think I need to print off a cover letter for her character sheets that says “when checking for traps ALWAYS TAKE 20!!!!! It works out well for her character though, Kiki seems impulsive, it’s funny that her player inadvertently plays her that way.

The Gibbering mouther was brutal, Tristan really hadn’t taken much damage at that point, but in one foul swoop Kale attacks her and she’s below half. Thankfully Kale was cross-classing by this point and I didn’t have to worry about full attacks. Still, had Tristan rolled average for HP, or had she been lacking a CON bonus, confused Kale might have dropped her.

I love how Tristan fills herself with hate and then strikes down the gibbering mouther with her anger. Palpatine would be proud. Also, to keep with the Star War’s theme, I love how Hop-Toy goes all Yoda on her. Anyone familiar with Aesop might recognize a bit of “The Frog and the Ox”, Hop-Toy doesn’t tell the story to the obvious (and original) conclusion because, as Hop-Toy would say, ‘that’s ridiculous! Could you make yourself pop? No, then why would you think a silly fat frog could? Although if he could it would be the one useful thing a frog could do!’

Hop-Toy is such a speciest!

And lastly, I don’t know who would have the balls to turn Capt’n Tristan away from her own ship, but you better believe she has things to say when she gets back on board! Tristan, ever the diplomat, doesn’t force the issue at this point, but as you can see she’s outraged that (in her mind) her crew turn on her. I think it’s fare to say that Tristan expects loyalty and honesty from everyone around her. This in many ways is one of her more endearing qualities.

All right, Next week: How long could it take to cure mummy rot? Anyone interested in back-story? What surprising thing is Frederick running from? Gambling debt? Duel gone deadly? A jilted lover? Did Fred get a woman in trouble? Find out his surprising secret in the next instalment of “the Lidu Diaries: (a player’s perspective of the STAP)”

So where are you guys actually at in the campaign now? Any chance you could quickly post the classes, races and levels of the other party members at where they are at in your journal?

Maybe I can talk the others into posting their characters, but as of right now, the only one I have stats for is Tristan and Churtle.

Churtle (entering the Lightless Depths)
Expert 4/Duskblade 1/ Dragon Diciple (bronze) 3

STR 10
DEX 18
Con 12
INT 14
Wis 10
CHA 8

Hit Points: 61 (with amulet of health +2)

AC: 22

feats:
Dodge
Weapon finesse
exotic weapon proficiency: Spiked chain

breath weapon: line of lightning (2D8)

main weapon: +1 holy cold iron spiked chain.

Oh and thanks for Posting in my thread P.H. Dungeon, I wish you I could better accommodate these types of questions, but, alas, I'm only a player in this campaign and not a DM.

PS: For any of you not in the know, P.H. Dungeon and Turin the Mad both have great STAP campaign threads of their own. They're both worth checking out.

Thanks Rhothaerill, nice to hear from you,

Speaking of halflings, whatever happened to your Belkar avatar?

I don’t know who would have the balls to turn Capt’n Tristan away from her own ship, but you better believe she has things to say when she gets back on board

Kiki’s player (BlackTygra on these boards) seems to forget about the take 20 rule far too often for my liking! Heck, she seems to forget about the take 10 most of the time!

Really though, Guy's right. I tend to forget that one can take the easy rout and avoid a lot of hardship merely by taking one's time, thinking it through and say "I take 20"

But, it has worked out for Kiki's character as Guy writes about her and incorporates my OOC mistakes into her natural, halfling impulsiveness, I don't feel so much like a heel, because it adds character. Although. . .I am getting better with the take whatever rule.

So where are you guys actually at in the campaign now? Any chance you could quickly post the classes, races and levels of the other party members at where they are at in your journal?

Kiki, Shoal Halfling
Rogue 11 (yes, no prestige class as of yet)

STR 10
DEX 19
Con 14
INT 12
Wis 12
CHA 14

Hit Points: 69

AC: 27 (30 vs. traps)

Feats:
The Shadow
Point Blank Shot
Precise Shot
Rapid Reload (light crossbow)
Weapon Finess

Special Abilities:
Amphibious
Sneak Attack 6d6
Improved Evasion
Trap Sence +3
Improved Uncanny Dodge

Main weapon(s): Light Crossbow +1 Seeking, Rapier +1 Keen (Kiki's using a normal sized rapier, not halfling sized, so she uses it two handed)

Kale Silverthumb
Race - Human
Alignment - Lawful Good
Height - 6'1" Weight 201 lbs.

STR 20 (18 nat)
DEX 16 (14 nat)
CON 14
INT 14
WIS 10
CHAR 10

Classes - Fighter 4, Rouge 3, Kensai 4

AC 28

Magic Stuffs

Mithral Shirt +3
Darkwood Shield +1 Animated
Amulet of Natural Armour +3
Ring of Protection +2
Ring of Swimming
Gargoyle Crown
Gloves of Dex +2
Belt of Ogre Power +2
Vest of Resistance +1
Boots of Agile Leaping

Weapons

Katana +1 nat (+2 signature weapon, haven't had the time to add the other +2, was saving to add holy)
Composite Longbow (Masterwork, Str +3)
Sap
Cold Iron Dagger

Feats - Merchant's Tounge, Combat Expertise, Power Attack, Cleave, Weapon Focus: Bastard Sword, Victor's Luck, Weapon Specialization: Bastard Sword, Fortuitous Strike, Better Lucky the Good

Languages - Common, Elven, Dwarven

So is no one going to speculate on Fred's (possibly seedy) past? We only have one week before the reveal after all . . . and seeing as most of you know next to nothing about his character this is the time to make all sorts of (funny and baseless) accusations!

So is no one going to speculate on Fred's (possibly seedy) past? We only have one week before the reveal after all . . . and seeing as most of you know next to nothing about his character this is the time to make all sorts of (funny and baseless) accusations!

P.H. Dungeon wrote:

PS: For any of you not in the know, P.H. Dungeon and Turin the Mad both have great STAP campaign threads of their own. They're both worth checking out.

Many thanks Guy, it's not a large number that drop by the journal and say hi/comment/critique/other. Rest assured, many of the current journals are eyeballed regularly - and most have far better focus on writing about character details et al that mine. ( I still have yet to hear any of the players actually speak thier character's name at the table now that I think upon it...)

Kale's long lost gay lover? ;)

A bit scandalous, but I think we can do better!

So is no one going to speculate on Fred's (possibly seedy) past? We only have one week before the reveal after all . . . and seeing as most of you know next to nothing about his character this is the time to make all sorts of (funny and baseless) accusations!

And when duty calls, Fred is (with a delay disease spell in effect) not afraid to pitch-hit for his high-roller clientel.

Guy Humual wrote:

So is no one going to speculate on Fred's (possibly seedy) past? We only have one week before the reveal after all . . . and seeing as most of you know next to nothing about his character this is the time to make all sorts of (funny and baseless) accusations!

Fred is a pimp (Leadership and Landlord feats), with tastefully tailored garments in greys, blacks and purples, who takes care of his ladies and has his cohort collecting all the monies. He has a thing for whips and poisons, collects lewd artwork and scams player characters who take Vows of Poverty to funnel thier donations into his bogus orphanage front. As his wealth in town accumulates, he acquires more property, restores the Lotus den to habitable stature and hosts wild nihilistic gatherings. Fred's cohort has a smuggling ring that specializes in rare Amedio Jungle lotus extracts for "recreational purposes".

And when duty calls, Fred is (with a delay disease spell in effect) not afraid to pitch-hit for his high-roller clientel.

............how are you getting advanced copies?????? ;)

KattHunter wrote:

............how are you getting advanced copies?????? ;)

Yes but Turin has yet to identify what (if anything) he's on the run from. ;)

I would hazard a guess at having had a "very good time" in Cauldron, failing to recuperate all but one energy level after energy draining and getting deprived of all his swag due to 'escort fees' (or outright robbery in the aftermath), he slunk to Sasserine with his tail between his legs, determined to rebuild his hedonistic empire...

Besides the obvious competitors ?

I would hazard a guess at having had a "very good time" in Cauldron, failing to recuperate all but one energy level after energy draining and getting deprived of all his swag due to 'escort fees' (or outright robbery in the aftermath), he slunk to Sasserine with his tail between his legs, determined to rebuild his hedonistic empire...

Anyone else gonna speculate? No one has even ventured something involving cannibalism for example. Or body modification . . .

Turin the Mad wrote:

Besides the obvious competitors ?

I would hazard a guess at having had a "very good time" in Cauldron, failing to recuperate all but one energy level after energy draining and getting deprived of all his swag due to 'escort fees' (or outright robbery in the aftermath), he slunk to Sasserine with his tail between his legs, determined to rebuild his hedonistic empire...

Nice!

Anyone else gonna speculate? No one has even ventured something involving cannibalism for example. Or body modification . . .

Although certain body modifications I hear argue for the pimp's 'esoteric talents', shall we say ...

Cannibalism, technically, is devouring one's own species - so (as any self-respecting Athasian hobbit would tell you) devouring other humanoids outside of one's own subtype is perfectly acceptable. Body modification is rather on the hardly-worthwhile as a motivation to be on the lam.