As you all may have noticed, there is mention in Tyralandi's journal of a private expedition by Frothy, Garish, and myself. After we got out of the doppleganger's lair, I decided it was time to have some fun. A night on the town so to speak, no sick-in-the-muds invited. Erik agreed to run a special session for Frothy and me, on one condition. I had to revive my Campaign Journal long enough to record it. The following is the result of that promise. I figured I'd post it here rather than dust off the old thread, as I'm not planning on posting that often, but still, consider this a "guest journal."
The following takes place between the hours of 1pm and 3 am on the evening of Goodmonth 15.
A letter from Demon Boy to Tyrilandi, to be opened in the event of my disappearance or unexplained death.
Tyrilandi,
It occurs to me, as I write this, that I may have made a terrible mistake. The world outside the Emporium is a lot more complicated, and I don’t really understand some of the rules. If your reading this, than I probably am either dead, gone, or you’re a stupid, sneaking spy, in which case you should stop reading now!
If, on the other hand, I’m actually dead (an odd thought), then its possible, however unlikely, that it might have been my own fault. You see, aside from the enemies we both share (those dirty Ebon Triad cultists and that spooky mind flayer creep) and the enemies you know about (the Emporium, for example), I just went off and made a new super powerful enemy all on my own. He seems like the type of guy that is just as likely to kill me in secret as not, so it might be helpful for you to know something about him, in case he decides to carry on his vengeance beyond just me and old Frothy.
It all started the evening after we broke up the doppleganger gang. If you recall (and you might not, if your memory is anything like mine) during the last battle with these weird elves (no not Taan, these guys had black skin, white hair, and red eyes) I used one of the scrolls I’d snagged from the corpse of the chief dead doppleganger and enslaved one of these weird elves.
I was sitting in the tavern that evening amusing myself by dropping things on the ground and ordering Garesh (that was the elf’s name) to pick them back up for me. I never knew having slaves could be this much fun. (He deserved it though. He told me some stuff about the place he’s from, apparently its underground, they have lots of slaves, and they kill people for fun. Doesn’t sound very nice. Although on the other hand he did mention that they are fond of burning people alive.) Anyway after awhile I got bored with that and asked Frothy if he had any ideas about fun stuff to do in a big city. We got to talking (Frothy and Garesh and I, that is), and we agreed that somewhere in this city there must live a mean old coot with lots of money that we could steal without feeling too guilty about it.
Without wasting any more time, we headed off to a marketplace. Because it seemed to me that the best way to find a mean, rich man was to ask the beggars. After all, they talk to rich men all day, probably hate most of them, and for sure know which ones are the meanest. Sure enough it didn’t take too long to find a desperate old guy willing to sell his soul for a good meal. Which I provided. Artur (that was his name) told us about Barten Borsk the bookseller that apparently kidnapped people and ate them. Or something. Well I wasn’t sure about that, but it seemed like it was worth checking out, so we headed over there. I knew right off that this guy was up to no good, after all, the three of us walk into the shop and ask to see a cookbook, and he just plopps one down on the counter without any fuss. That would make him the first person I’ve met in this city whose first question wasn’t “And what are you supposed to be?” so naturally, he was clearly evil.
Turns out whatever else this guy is, he’s a maniacal book collector. He brings me back this “rare” cookbook written in some ancient language I’ve never seen before. I go along and pretend to be interested, and he starts lecturing me about its history. I nod absently before deciding to have a little fun with him. In my most imperious tone (don’t look at me like that, I can sound imperious if I want to) I inform him that this book won’t do at all, that I already own a copy of it, and that my copy is clearly superior to this cheap knock off. Tyrilandi, I wish you could have seen the expression on his face! For a couple of seconds, I wasn’t the only one in the room with cherry-red skin.
The next step was to stake out his shop and wait for him to go home. As I repeatedly explained to my companions, he wouldn’t keep most of his valuables in his shop anyway. They would most likely be in his house. The thing to do was ambush him there, rob him blind, then come back to his shop for the pickings. But, it turns out I was totally wrong about all of that.
After we waited for four or five hours (I was totally calm, but Frothy was having kittens by that point, to say nothing of Garesh, which I won’t). I finally agreed to let Frothy go over and scope the place out. He came back and said that there was someone asleep (and snoring) on the other side of the door. The next step was obvious. With a well-placed ghost sound spell, Frothy woke the poor bastard up and scurried behind the shop. We all waited, and sure enough after a couple of minutes the door opened, to reveal a man I had never seen before.
It was at this point that I realized that this might be more complicated that I thought. This man, whoever he was (actually, I later learned his name was Horatio), was wearing armor and carrying a sword, which was, when you think about it, pretty strange. He moved outside and walked around to the back of the shop. I’m not sure if he was looking for the source of the noise, or just looking for a place to take a piss, but either way he was back there for several minutes, allowing the three of us to sneak in through the front door, through the front room, and into the office without him being the wiser. Sure enough, when we lifted up the carpet on the office floor, a trap door appeared underneath it.
A quick whispered conversation ensued. Garesh wanted to lure the guy back to the office and quietly gut him, leaving us free to loot the shop and whatever might be below it. But I wasn’t entirely sure we could take the guy out that quickly (and quietly), and in the end I got my way. Using a clever plan and a bit of magic, we managed to sneak down the trap door, close it behind us, and pull the carpet over it so it looked undisturbed. That was Frothy’s idea (got to give him some credit).
Sure enough, we found the bookseller underneath the shop, sleeping in a big bed, with a large chest (did I mention it was large?) at the foot of the bed. Again a whispered conversation, but I could restrain my companions no more. Gorash and Frothy were thirsty for blood and, in the end, well, the guy was clearly evil.
Unfortunately, it turns out that, for a homicidal maniac, Frothy isn’t actually very good at killing people. Lestways, he stabbed him right in the chest with his dagger, and the next thing I knew it was hailing rocks underground. After a brief but bitter battle we killed Barten Borsk and started taking his stuff. We only had a few seconds before Horatio came rushing down, but that was enough to learn three things.
First: He had loot. Yay loot!
Second: He had two, small parallel puncture marks in his neck.
Third: His loot was, to say the least odd.
After we escaped (turns out dimension door is a quality spell). We examined the “take.” Once item stood out immediately: an ornate silver goblet that appears to turn water into blood. Hmm. Yeah.
Vampire.
So, if you’re reading this, you might want to sharpen some stakes, find a silver weapon, and stock up on the holy water, cause you’re next.
Cordially yours (from beyond the grave),
Demon Boy
PS. Be sure and burn my corpse.