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Sunday 2nd Harvester 585

Woke up to find Feckoff missing. There’s no evidence to say whose watch it was on but I’m almost sure it might have been mine. I actually managed to find some sleep last night, although the dreams weren’t of what I’d hoped. Instead of Mizzen, I was plagued with visions of worms and wyrms and wormy wyrms.

Although we knew our goal lay downwards, we decided to check out the trap door in the ceiling above. This led onto the top of a ruined tower. A ballista and bolts stood ready for the next wave of dragon fury, the sounds of which we could still hear far too close for any kind of comfort.

We then headed down on a ladder. Do the giants like ladders because dragons find it hard to climb them? Seems a bit odd if that is the reason they have so many since dragons can, you know, fly and stuff.

Anyway, the ladder led into an oddly shaped hallway with six doors leading off. Curly, who I’m surprised to learn can indeed count, said that as there were six of us, we could take a door each and open them at the same time. The less suicidal of us decided to do what has become natural and ignore anything that comes out of his mouth and check each door in turn. Good job too as through one of them we could hear the unmistakable breathing of giants. Grim estimated up to three of them.
We decided to leave this one ‘til last and hastily inspected the others. Two led out onto the same balcony with yet more ruined ballista with dead giants to boot; one opened into a living quarters; one opened into a circular room with anther ladder going up and one went out onto another battlements which, Grim informed us, had been specifically designed to make it difficult for dragons to land and offered protection against their breath attacks (note to self: next time I’m having trouble sleeping, get Grim to start talking about dwarven battle tactics).

So, back to the giant door (ok, so all the doors are giant because we’re in a giants castle. What I meant was the doors with the giants waiting behind it). We burst in ready to fight but the giants seemed reluctant. An awkward pause ensued (we’re not used to meeting things we don’t end up killing) until Muffin decided to break it like he does the laws of physics.

“We have spoken to your leader and he has promised us safe passage so that we might find Vercinobex and retrieve the key that he has stolen”.

Not exactly true, but coupled with the dragon tooth longsword we’d “been gifted” (can’t believe they bought that one), the giants let us through without a fight, much to Grim’s dismay.

We found ourselves, unusually, heading down a set of stairs (or as I like to call it, ‘climbing practice’. Seriously; this place is in no way halfling friendly) which led back into the main hall.

We were about to descend the stairs in this room when an unfamiliar voice called us to halt.

We whipped around, weapons in hand to see a man carrying a spiked chain whose face and body were covered in a piece of silk wrapped around him. He pulled down the silk to reveal dark hair and a coffee coloured skin.

“Would you be Deree’s Daring Dynamos?” he asked in a strange accent. Unsure whether that was threatening or not, and to be honest, not particularly caring, I answered in the positive.

He smiled and introduced himself as Akeem. He said that he’d been looking for us. He had been drawn to this place by a strange urge he couldn’t resist. When he arrived he had met Feckoff who had told him of us and why we are here. it was then that he understood why he was called; he was experienced in slaying both dragons and undead and the idea of facing and defeating Dragotha was a task he had been training for his entire life.

My first thought was that this could be the shape-changing demon we’d been warned about but Curly, who despite his lack of any social skills, is usually a pretty good judge of character, said he sensed no danger from him.

Deciding that, even if he did turn out to be a monstrous abomination in disguise, it was better to have him with us and know where he was than not, I allowed him the privilege of letting him join us. Besides, he’s the only one who hasn’t betrayed me… yet.

We shoved him to the front of our group and we made our way down the stairs. As we reached the bottom, Newboy, Sneeze and Grim called us to stop. They’d heard a low, guttural squeal, like a giant boar (Curly enlarged… oh wait: that’d be a giant bore).

We were about to turn into the room at the bottom of the stairs when a voice in our head invited us forward with the words “Come and meet your doom!”

Not wanting to disappoint, we exited the stairs and found ourselves in a corridor the opposite end of which was a large half ape, half boar thing with tiny wings. A dark mist was surrounding it and Muffin barely had time to utter the word “Nalfeshnee” before another of the creatures appeared next to it.

Sneeze grabbed hold of me and Grim and took us through the magic door and we appeared behind the creatures. Newboy similarly transported himself to directly in front of them and Curly started moving the old fashioned way – screaming praise to his god as he charged like an angry tortoise.

The demons were obviously perturbed by our swiftness and I took full advantage, battering the summoned one to within an inch of its short, miserable existence, an inch that it was pushed past by Newboy.

Grim, Sneeze and Curly all started laying into the main Nalfeshnee as a horrifying sight appeared at the end of the hall, just in front of Sheheit and Muffin; the top half was that of a human female with six arms, each carrying a flaming sword, but her lower half was that of a giant snake.

The marilith smiled directly at me and I instantly knew what was to come. All six swords slashed and hacked at Sheheit in a furious assault that only ended when he/she collapsed into a bloody heap on the floor. I knew Muffin would be next and so I ignored the slobbering beast next to me and ran down the corridor to engage this new enemy.

The others swiftly finished off the other pig demon and were following behind me. Muffin was doing his best to fend off the snake sending thunderous spells into the beast. A wave of noise shot past me as Grim joined the aural assault with a lance of sound. All that did was turn the beast so it saw the flurry of my blades slashing across every art of its scaly body.

Despite the frenzy of my attack, the demon still stood… until Curly hacked it in half with one cleave of his sword.
As the demon fell in two, our attention was drawn to the motionless body of Sheheit and then all eyes turned to Grim who’s eyes betrayed him – he couldn’t do it. The power granted to him by Hanseath that had revived me all that time ago was beyond his powers to summon at this time. There was nothing we could do – except of course take the banner from his/her cold corpse and entomb her behind a wall of stone.

Do I sound cold-hearted? No hearted? Well I guess that is what I’ve been turned into. That is the price I’m paying, the price I’m being forced to pay, in order that I bring about the end of Kyuss for good. Maybe the others are starting to understand the cost involved in our quest as they barely battered an eyelid at the suggestion. In fact, even before the task was done, Muffin and the others had already opened the door off the corridor and were searching the room beyond.

It was a plush quarters with open books strewn about it. As I entered Muffin was already nose deep into them. Curly was busy doing what he normally does when there’s books to be read: trying not to look like he was avoiding them. He was busying himself chatting to Newboy.

Muffin raised his head and looked like he was about to say something when out of nowhere a massive, pale giant appeared – r rather ten of the same massive, pal giant appeared in the middle of the room.

Without even a word of warning he sent out a spray that was all colours of the rainbow. Curly took the brunt of it as one of the beams covered him in acid. He looked physically drained as he picked up his sword and moved to attack.

The rest of us surrounded the frost giant I’m assuming was Vercinobex and began systematically destroying the images he’d created of himself. Curly’s weakness was severely affecting him as he nearly stumbled over as he joined the fight. He quickly recovered and, with all the images gone, the fight was all but won. That was until Vercy disappeared.

Muffin recognised the spell he’d cast and told us he’d reappear shortly. We wasted no time and set about preparing ourselves for his return. The wait, although less than two minutes, seemed much longer, especially as our movements had been quickened by another of Muffin’s spells.

When Vercy did turn back up (or rather the ten of him did), he did so with the promise that “No one would stop him now that he was so close” before sending a chain of lightning bolts out at us (I’m pretty sure he owes Muffin some money for that – doesn’t he own the rights?). Sneeze took down most of the images which allowed the rest of us to concentrate on the real deal.

Grim managed to take away the magical warding that Vercy had on him allowing Muffin to send a ball of sound thundering into the giant, staggering him back just enough for me to lay waste to him.

His body had barely crashed into the ground before I was searching his body, a search that came up with, amongst other things, the second key.

Muffin finished perusing the book and informed us that Vercy had been trying to research a ritual, set by the Order of the Storm, that would open the vault doors but his scribblings revealed that he was nowhere near to finding the answer despite his previous boasting.

There were no clues to what this ritual may be anywhere in the room so we headed out and down yet another set of stairs that opened out to a small (for this place anyway) hallway with a set of huge, ornate stone doors flanked on either side by huge undead, unmoving creatures (Muffin called them Raam – apparently very rare and very dangerous)

The left door depicted a scene of the worm god standing over and whipping enslaved giants.

The right hand side was something more of a shock. It depicted the battle, our battle, from the cliff edge. It showed masses of undead trying to scale the cliffs and a group of warriors standing between them and the order of druids that were encircling an object. It was strange to see something that, for us, only happened a matter of days ago being carved into stone over fifteen hundred years old.

A keyhole stood in each door and we were just about to insert the keys when a voice echoed for us to stop. A ghostly figure emerged from the wall; a short, human figure with a broken neck. Memories from what seem like a lifetime ago flooded back to me. Memories of Diamond Lake and the Whispering Cairn and our first encounters with the Wind Dukes. Memories of myself and how young I seemed. Was that really less than five months ago?

Alastor Land. was once again standing in front of us, and once again offering his help.

“Well met, friends. Long have our journeys been since our last meeting. You have come far in your quest to stop the abomination that rises even as we speak, and I have been down long roads in other worlds learning who and what I am. And now, here at this juncture, our paths have crossed again. As you have doubtless learned, an age ago the Vaati fought a great battle against the forces of Chaos not far from here. Miska the Wolf-Spider was imprisoned, the Queen of Chaos banished and the Rod of Law was broken into the Rod of Seven Parts and cast across the cosmos. Tombs were built to inter their honoured dead, but the Vaati did not abandon the field of battle entirely. Certain guardians were left behind to watch and wait for the re-emergence of Chaos. One of these guardians was an order of mortal druids. The Vaati taught these druids their secrets, and when they left for other realms, this order grew powerful. They became the Order of the Storm, and they defeated Kyuss nearly fifteen centuries ago. Kyuss was banished, locked away in a stony prison, but now he threatens once again.
“ Over long years, the secret watchers joined with the cultures across the world: humans, dwarves, elves and halflings; all races were integrated with and slowly these guardians forgot their cause, and traditions were abandoned. My family, the Land family, named for their sacred attachment to the hallowed grounds of the Vaati fallen, were among the last of these watchers. Though the blood of the Vaati ran thin in my veins, it still called to me and allowed me access to the tomb of Icosial until my destiny was fulfilled and I fell to a trap. Likewise, your coming to the Whispering Cairn was no accident. I can smell the mark of the Vaati within you. You may be the last of a long line, the only surviving heirs to the Vaati legacy. As such, I have come to advise you one more time.

“Kyuss’ strencth lies in his prison. When he became a god, he became trapped in the focus of his divine apotheosis – a massive monolith of stone affixed to the pek of the Spire of Long Shadows. Dragotha stole this monolith long ago and brought it to his lair in the Rift Canyon. Over the centuries, the presence of Kyuss’ monolith transformed this portion of the canyon into what is today known as the Wormcrawl Fissure. Once, after Dragotha was murdered by the Chromatic Dragon and returned to unlife by the Wormgod, Kyuss managed to escape his prison. With Dragotha as the general of his undead armies, the Wormgod rose from the rift and attempted to begin the Age of Worms. but the Order of the Storm was ready.

“You know of this battle. And now you know that the room beyond lies Dragotha’s phylactery. Yet to reach it, you must look into your memories, your souls. Find the ritual of opening, and use the vault keys. Yet know also that once these doors open, the phylactery vault will be open to all. Dragotha and his minions will smell his phylactery and they shall come to claim it. You must be quick. If you destroy the phylactery, Dragotha can truly be slain, but as his lifeforce escapes, he may be able to reclaim some of it from the beyond – destroying the phylactery may make him more dangerous than ever before. Yet I see little choice.

“I must now go. You shall not see me again, I think, until you join me on the other side. Good luck, my friends, and farewell.”

With that he smiled and dissipated into thin air. The ritual of opening; it could only mean one thing – the ritual from the battle those hundreds of years, yet only a few days ago.

We put the keys into the locks and closed our eyes and thought back to the battle. The noise, the smell, the masses of undead; it all faded away until only the druids, only the ritual remained. I didn’t realise I was chanting, that we all were chanting until the sound of the doors opening woke me from the memory.

The dusty, musty air, stale from over a thousand years of being locked away from the outside world. At the centre of the cavern beyond was a raise platform atop which stood a huge statue of a dragon. The rib cage stood open and where its heart should have rested lay a glowing red box.
Swiftly we spread ourselves out across the room, knowing that at any second Dragotha’s minions could be upon us.

Curly ran straight for the now dim box and swung at it ferociously with his sword. The box cracked, but didn’t break.

The wall at the back of the cavern began to, for want of a better word melt and molten rock dripped down. Curly took one more swing at the box and cleft it in two just as the wall collapsed. Bright sunlight streamed in from the new opening but it was soon blocked out as a gigantic ancient looking red dragon landed in the cavern.

“Brazzemal” whispered Muffin as he shuffled back away from the mighty beast.

Thanks Smarnil - is good to be back. I'd forgotten how much i enjoyed playing the character. I'm really glad someone's still reading after al this time. I hope i can keep up the work I started all those years ago.

Here's the latest chapter in our (mis) adventure...

Starday 1st Harvester 595

Key in hand and stinky goo everywhere else, we made our way to the under-city. It turned out to be a smaller, far dirtier version of the upper city. It looked like a slum filled with downtrodden hill giants. It even had its own causeway of death.

We could hear the sound of the dragon siege rumbling from above us. We looked up in time to see five dragons, two blue and three green (none of whom Muffin was on first name terms with), attacking the citadel above us. Knowing that if the dragons successfully stormed the castle above they would be able to get the location of the phylactery, we decided to act. We flew up to meet the dragons head on. The dragons spotted our approach and swooped down to meet us.

The wave of dragon-fear washed over us but these wyrms held no sway over us. They opened with their powerful and dangerous breath and we countered with our powerful and dangerous weapons. Curly, obviously refreshed from his night’s sleep (something that continues to elude me), nearly decapitated one of the green dragons in one blow. Muffin, annoyed by the fact that he was having to fight dragons he had never heard of (he’s such a diva), unleashed an unbelievable ball of fire which sent another of the greens plummeting in a ball of flame. Grim and Sheheit used their dwarf tag-teaming ability to take out one of the blues whilst me and Sneeze dazzled the other with flurries of blades and fists, eventually putting n end to its miserable existence.

The remaining green tried to flee but Muffin ensured it joined its brothers in hell with a ball of lightning.

Still breathing heavy from the fight we looked across the causeway below and spotted a group of fire-giants. After a very brief exchange of glances, the fire giants ran and slammed a large door behind them.

Grim healed us all and we made our way to the doors. On it was another mural depicting giants slaying dragons but this one was in a very poor state of repair.

Thinking back on it, what we did next wasn’t the brightest of ideas. With the under-city being almost an exact copy of the upper-city, it should have occurred to us that the lower citadel would be almost an exact copy of the upper citadel, you know, with the same kind of traps. Which it was.

We opened the door and entered the room only for the door to shut behind us and the roof to open and a huge gelatinous mass fell down on us. Fortunately we all managed to avoid the blob and without even stopping to check what flavour it was, we hacked the jelly to pieces.

No sooner had this happened that the door at the end of the corridor opened and four heavily armed fire giants charged in at us. I was a little puzzled as to why they were attacking us, you know, since they witnessed us save their citadel by killing five dragons. Still, if they wanted some of the same, I was in no mood to deny them.

We barrelled into them in a fury of blades and magic. Muffin stayed at the back hurling spells but his tactics were soon to be exposed as two more fire giant appeared from a secret door behind him. Without us there to act as a shield, Muffin bore the full brunt of the giant’s attacks. His girl like screams attracted our attention in time for us to see him disappear from sight.

Grim and I turned to face the threat from behind and soon put them to the sword (or more correctly, axe and kukri). At the front of the battle, Curly hacked one to death as a blast of cold energy froze another one enough for Sneeze to shatter into tiny shards. Sheheit took down the last one and once again we were left breathing heavy and needing healing.

This did give Grim time to let us know about the clever design of the room. It had been shaped with alcoves to help guard against breath weapons. Riveting!
We decided to go through the secret door. This took us onto some stairs going up. Half way up was a door that opened onto a tower with another ballista on, although this one looked perfectly functional. We continued on up the stairs and onto a corridor that had a door on the left and a ladder at the end (what is it with giants and ladders?).

We listened at the door and heard a commanding voice utter the words “Get ready; they must be coming soon”. Many a true word and all that.

We burst through the door and into a room that, unsurprisingly housed five giants, one of whom was carrying two mighty looking axes. It also, more surprisingly, housed a twelve headed pyrohydra that was chained to the back wall.

A small pause was ended by Sheheit who sprung forward and lashed out at one of the giants. The hydra took offence to someone laying a beat down on one of its masters and all twelve heads let out a massive torrent of flame towards us. At the same time, the lead giant picked up a spear and threw it. At first I thought its aim was miles off, as the weapon flew harmlessly above us. My judgement was proved wrong as the spear smashed into a huge pot that had been suspended above us. The pot exploded causing a shower of burning liquid to fall on us.

Grim took out his tankard and muttered a few words in prayer and an enormous hand holding a tankard appeared right next to the hydra. It then started beating the creature around each of its heads as Grim swung his own tankard in a motion not unlike the one he uses when drunkenly singing a song late on in the evening at any of the many taverns we’ve visited. The blows (or the ridiculous sight of a giant hand holding a tankard) stunned the creature and the rest of us seized our moment.

Myself, Curly and Sneeze darted in and began pummelling the giants. The leader, sensing the inevitable was about to happen, sent one of his men to get reinforcements. We continued to unload on our enemy and one by one they began to fall. The lead giant and the hydra proved tougher than the front line troops however. And just when we thought we had the hydra down, the giant cast a spell that almost completely healed it.

Grim, clearly bored with whole thing by this time, sent the giant hand crashing into the beast one more time. This time he coupled the blow with a spell of destruction which literally turned the hydra to dust.

It was at this stage that people seemed to remember that they were in possession of the elemental banners as Sheheit then Sneeze unleashed their might. This managed to take down the remaining foot soldiers leaving only the leader giant. That was until, in a puff of smoke, a huge fire giant appeared in the room. He was carrying an enormous axe and his skin looked like the bark of a tree.

We were all battered and bruised and this new enemy might well have done for us but Muffin managed to send it to that great maze dimension. I new this opportunity needed to be exploited so I unleashed my full wrath on the one giant left, slaying it mercilessly.

Grim quickly healed us up. His haste was proved wise as the huge fire giant once again appeared in the room. This time we were ready though. As one we attacked him and gave him such a beating that he dropped his weapons and begged for mercy.

We said we would grant his wish, but only for the key. Now, as nothing is quite as simple as beating someone up and stealing the item we require, he said that he didn’t have the key: a magic using frost giant called Vercinobex Tor, who resides in the caverns below, was in possession of it. Whilst he vouched that he wouldn’t attack us, he couldn’t vouch for any of the creatures below.

We were just about to leave him when he added one more piece of information: there were other creatures guarding the key; creatures from other planes of existence. There was a shape-changing demon that could summon others amongst them.

With this added information we decided that it would be best to rest up before adventuring on and so, once again, I sit here in the grey room in a rope, hoping for sleep and dreams of Mizzen.

Earthday 20th Goodmonth 595

We once again find ourselves in Greyhawk City getting supplies whilst Muffin begins to research what on earth Kongen-Thulnir is. The banners from Talentless turned out to elemental and magical. I decided that Grim, Curly, Sheheit and Salanor would make the best use of them. Sneeze didn’t argue – maybe he’s coming around to the fact that I’m in charge.

Freeday 21st – Earthday 27th Goodmonth 595

Scars are starting to appear with more regularity. The hope that the black dragon skin would cover them has proved fruitless – the scars even penetrate that thick hide. I have taken to wearing a scarf around my face to hide them. The decreasing temperature offers a very flimsy but plausible excuse.

Freeday 28thGoodmonth 595

Muffin finished his research (as he announced to the entire inn as he burst through the door). We could barely get him into a private room before he divulged all our plans to the entire world.

He’d located Kongen-Thulnir. It is a city of giant clans (clans of giants, not massive clans) situated in the Rift Canyon (he seemed to wait for a round of applause which didn’t come). The canyon was about a hundred and ninety miles north east of Alhaster in the heart of the Bandit Wasteland (not exactly sounding like a holiday destination).
Grim, who hasn’t swiped at anything other than the tavern wench’s shapely behind for the past week, immediately cast a scrying spell and before we could even pay the bill, Muffin had teleported us to the edge of the rift.

The wind howled around us and we looked down upon an awe-inspiring sight. Below us stood a city full of enormous but ruined buildings. It looked like a city of ancient castles only the buildings weren’t ancient – they had simply been destroyed by the scores of dragons swooping down and unleashing their devastating breath on them. From this distance the scene looked… beautiful. Like colourful butterflies flitting between flowers of smoke and fire.

I didn’t even register that Muffin was casting a spell until we appeared in the city itself. He’d laced us in an alley (a giant ally is pretty much the same size as the main streets of Greyhawk City) where we found ourselves in front of a family of cowering bugbears and some equally terrified hill giants. The bugbears had chains around them (obviously slaves) and we were about to slay the hill giants but they only cowered further away from us as we advanced.

These were obviously not the people we needed to help us find the phylactery. However, they did find time to stop pissing their pants to point us in the direction of the people who might. Unfortunately that was on the opposite side of the city. Deciding that the giants would be far too occupied with the hoard of rampaging dragons to be worried about a small distraction like us, we made a run for it.

The main street of the city ran alongside the edge of the cliff and it was about half way along it that we felt a wash of fear come over us. A glance at the others let me know that they had recognised nit as well – dragon-fear! The only problem with that theory was that we couldn’t see any dragons nearby. Grim raised a tankard and sent its contents out over the edge of the cliff. It splashed against and revealed a massive green dragon. Muffin revealed later that it was Necrisate, a fiendish, old dragon who had been one of Tiamat’s guards before he had been banished for betrayal.

Muffin then showed his tactical genius by organising us into a well-oiled attacking machine using the command he’d obviously been saving until it was most needed – “Attack now!” It hadn’t occurred to me that attacking the evil dragon blocking our path might be the best plan of action – it’s such a good job that we have such an experienced and knowledgeable person here to guide us though our battles – moron!

The tactic worked though – we obliterated Tiamat’s deposed general with barely a sweat broken. The defeated creature slumped onto the path and Grim slit open its belly spilling out bones and flesh along with an amulet and ring.

Muffin got out his wand (oo, err) and tried to divine the properties of these items, but for some reason the wand didn’t work.
We were puzzling this over when a familiar voice piped up – Gazlefeck, otherwise known as the Ominous Fabler appeared in front of us. Apparently he’d set out to find us as we were “heroes of fame” and he wanted to witness first hand our exploits so he could write a song worthy of them.

We cleaned the smoke from our arses and managed to get the truth out of him – he was a spy for the giants and one in particular – Colvin Grow… Graw… Colvin something or other – who, after being kicked out of the Riftlord clan, had had a vision about Kyuss’ return. Feckoff had then been sent out to find people who would stand against this and soon came across the name Deree’s Daring Dynamos and tasked himself with finding us. Sadly as soon as he did, we disappeared so he tracked us back to Greyhawk where he picked up our trail again and managed to locate us in the inn and eavesdrop on our plans. He followed us here and decided that now was the time to reveal himself to us.

He said that divining spells wouldn’t work in the city which is why the phylactery was still secure and why the dragons were laying siege to it. He told us that if we could get into the palace and speak to Achaime Silvereye, the king of the Cloud Giants who was on his death bed, he would be able to give us further directions to the phylactery.

Obviously seeing the dubious looks on our faces he, in ab id t make us trust him, let down the illusion he’d cast upon himself. He transformed into a Spriggan (which I’m told is a kind of gnome. If he is a kind of gnome, I’m not sure I can blame him for disguising himself – every gnome I’ve met is a nob).

Sadly, with nothing else to go on, we had to follow his lead and headed for the palace. The path narrowed to only a couple of cart-widths on a sharp bend in the cliff. A melted ballista stood at the edge along with two very dead hill giants.

We approached cautiously and our reticence proved wise as a tumbling of rocks from above alerted us to another dragon attack. A gargantuan fang dragon (called Xyzanth according to Muffin who I’m starting to think has a far too intimate knowledge of famous dragons. I wonder if he has a scrap book?). Now the thing with fang dragons is that they don’t have breath acid or fire or cold or anything. Fantastic you might think. However, they are capable of sucking the life out of you like a vampire.

I was half expecting Muffin to warn us with ‘Stay away from it mouth’ when Sheheit flew up to meet the creature head on. And by meet the creature head on I mean she/he gave it a friendly stroke with her axe. The beast responded by stealing Muffin’s signature move and sending a chain of lightning bolts at us. Muffin, obviously outraged at the nerve of the beast, was the only one of us who didn’t manage to dive out of the way.

The creature then did something we’re not really used to – it flew away. To be fair if Sheheit approached me and tried to give me a tickle, I’d probably flee in terror as well.

We cashed in on this strange turn of events by hurrying on towards our goal – we are, after all, not here to slay dragons – we have bigger **** to fry. We managed to make it to, what I shall refer to as, ‘The Causeway of Certain Death’. A fifty foot long path out over the rift that had clearly had no safety people working on it.

“Shall we put a small wall up to prevent people falling off to their certain death?”

“No, let’s spend the money on an extravagant mural depicting the deaths of dragons instead!”

The unsurprising surprise attack happened as we sprinted across the death trap. A now invisible Xyzanth resumed the attack with devastating effect. Unseen claws, tails, wings and fangs struck out at us, inflicting gaping wounds on each of us. Muffin finally got his narrow behind in gear and managed to dispel the, well, spell and we set about exacting a bloody revenge.

It didn’t quite go as planned. Turns out that this Xyzanth was a bit tougher than we expected. Our blades didn’t penetrate its hide as deeply as we expected but its claws pierced our skin like, well, dragon claws through flesh. Muffin, in an act of extreme desperation, summoned up as much magical might as he could and sent a powerful dweomer at the dragon, banishing it to a maze on a different plane.

We limped the rest of the way across the bridge and dragged ourselves up the giant steps to the palace gates. Sadly it wasn’t open to the public. This was clearly one straw too much for Curly who started to hack away at the doors with his adamantine sword.

His knocking was answered by a group of hill giants who seemed genuinely confused to see us. Curly, using his natural ability to communicate with the stupid, told them of our exploits with the dragons and instructed them to take us to the king. After a few blank stares, they complied and led us through some massive corridors to a monstrously sized bedroom. I kid you not, this thing was bigger than the entire village I grew up in.

Lying in the biggest bed I’ve ever seen was an old giant, who unnecessarily introduced himself as Achaime Silvereye. As he struggled to shift his bulk to get a better view of us, a medallion shifted on his chest. It showed the symbol of Erithnal, the god of slaughter.

The conversation was brief. He told us that the phylactery was in a secret vault beneath the citadel. There are two keys but he didn’t have either (of course). One had been stolen by a gang of rebel hill giants called the Rift Crawlers who were led by one Charlder. The other key was in the care of the Tiamaculnulshada (try saying that three times fast whilst balancing a tankard of wine on your head) or ‘The Keepers of the Citadel’ (slightly easier to say three times fast whilst balancing a tankard of beer on your head), a tribe of fire giants who, of course, wouldn’t give up the key easily.

Cataracts ordered his lieutenant to take us to the entrance to the under-city which turned out to be a set of massive stone doors. The echoing crash of them closing behind us gave the distinct impression that directions were going to be the sum total of the help we were getting.

We followed some enormous stairs down into a room which had only one rusty metal door. After a brief inspection I found a hidden switch that seemed to operate something on the other side of them. I switched it and, since my lock picks were way too small for the giant sized lock, let Curly have a go at opening the door with his lock pick, otherwise known as his adamantine sword.

A disgusting smell emanated from in front of me, and beyond Grim, the air had a decidedly musty aroma as well. The nature of the switch was easy to discern from this side – it opened up a trap door in the roof which would drop something on us whilst a portcullis would trap us inside.

Another door stood opposite us and, on opening, it became clear that this was the source of the smell. Crammed into a disgusting room were nearly two dozen troglodytes who, in a motion I’m getting used to and rather liking, cowered away from us in fear. Grim promised them we’d let them live as long as they made no noise. The respected the stench and remained silent.

We exited the room along a corridor and soon found ourselves at yet another massive door. The slow, deep sound of hill giants talking came from the other side. Peeping under the gap at the bottom of the doors I could see that there were five hill giants who had set up a rudimentary barricade out of furniture half way across the room they were in.

We opened the door and took cover whilst Sheheit started negotiations by shouting for the key. Her admirable attempt at diplomacy was somewhat undermined by Grim who, whilst shouting the war cry “Die giant scum!”, sent a bolt of searing light steaming towards them. Muffin followed suit and the fight was on in earnest. Led by their leader (ok, fairly obvious but I’m tired and can’t be bothered thinking of a decent synonym for ‘led’ or leader’) who was more heavily armed and armoured, the giants attacked us. The leader threw a pouch which exploded over Curly, covering him in a mass of sticky liquid. Curly, who I want to say is used to having sticky liquid spurted all over him, but that just seems in poor taste (literally), simply shrugged it off and busied himself by hewing into the nearest giant.

Sneeze and myself combined to take down two of the beasts with a little help from Muffin who either has complete faith in our ability to avoid his spells, is deliberately trying to kill us or knows that his spells are so ineffective that he may as well cast them on us because they aren’t going to do us any harm anyway. He cast a gigantic fireball on our group.

It was at this point where their annihilation was inevitable that the lead giant called for the cage to be opened. His underlings tried their best to follow the instructions but being dead is a somewhat debilitating condition. Soon the leader joined them in their permanent vacation and we looked through the gate at the end of the corridor which led into the aforementioned cage.

The room was dark so Grim threw a sun rod out of the cage. It illuminated a large cavern that was writing with a mass of large carrion crawlers. Muffin conjured up a hand which moved the sun rod around the room. On the far side of the cavern was another corridor.

While the others faffed about how to get there, I busied myself inspecting the cage. I spotted a hatch at the top and, with a bunk up from Curly, unlocked it and we all activated our various flying item and we safely moved through the cavern to the other side.

The corridor led to another door behind which we could hear faint, but deep breathing. We opened the door which opened into what looked like a mine. Four hill giants and, more surprisingly, a dwarf wearing mithril armour, were waiting for us. They immediately threw more bags of the sticky goo at us but their aim was as true as one of the tales Grim tells during one of his sessions.

The battle was short but very brutal and bloody. The dwarf, using a spiked chain whipped it around like a dervish. Muffin let off lightning blast after lightning blast whilst the rest of us slashed and hacked our way through the enemy. It was only when his giant comrades were dead that the dwarf surrendered. Only the knowledge that we had no knowledge stayed our hands.

Grim questioned the dwarf – it turned out that he’d been looked after by the hill giants since he was a small boy, you know, after they had completely destroyed his village. He didn’t like Charlder, who from his description as the giant who ordered the cage to be opened, but felt some kind of obligation to him. We enquired about the key and he said that Charlder had thrown it into the pit of carrion crawlers. He also directed us to path that would lead to the under-city.

With all the information we needed, the age old question of what to do with a prisoner came up. Grim solved this problem by shifting him to the plane governed by the good and lawful to be tried for his crimes.

Next, the not so age old question of how to search through a hundred plus carrion crawlers for a key came up. Of all people, Curly came up with a novel solution – we put the dead body of one of the giants in a cage, Grim would put a wall of blades by the entrance and Muffin would fill the cage with a fog of acid. We would then open the bottom of the cage and the carrion crawlers would slither to their deaths trying to get the juicy, giant morsel.

The gruesome, but effective plan is underway as I write.

The saying ‘needle in a haystack’ is to now be replaced by ‘key in a pit of carrion crawlers’. Once all the creatures had marched to their deaths, we set about searching the mess for the key. Of course, normally we could have used a spell to find it but, as Feckoff had previously informed us, that type of spell doesn’t work in the city! So sifting through the gooey remnants by hand was our only option. Annoyingly there was no key to be found.

What we did find was a large cave at the back of the cavern which led into another large cavern. This one, however, was illuminated by some kind of fungus that was growing all along the walls. A mound of the fungus that was sitting in the middle of the room began to tremble and move. From underneath emerged a massive carrion crawler (known as a caju). It reared up and sat a glob of acid towards Muffin who responded by sending his favourite spell back at it. The rest of us set about trying to hack our way through its incredibly thick hide whilst simultaneously trying to avoid its huge gaping maw. Even Feckoff joined our seemingly endless campaign of hack and slash. Eventually Curly managed to finish the beast off before using his universal opener to slice through its hide and into its stomach. Amongst the mass of semi-digested bodies of indeterminate origin was a key.

We took it and decided enough was enough for one day and are currently in the room on a rope resting up.

Waterday 19th Goodmonth 595

Was far too angry to write last night and to be honest I’m still a little bit peeved off now (although the beat down did somewhat sate that). Now I’m not usually one to swear but I have to say I did last night. It’s not particularly eloquent and I don’t want to write the word down so I shall replace a particular word that was said a lot with the word ‘fluff’.

We went to meet the guardians who kindly brought Sheheit with them (apparently Darling had plane shifted her back to the island in the real world). Anyway, we handed them the items which they took, examined and universally agreed that we’d completed the tasks and should be rewarded by them taking us to the fountain of dreams. All that was except Talentless who started being, what can only be described as an awkward fluffer. He said that because we hadn’t taken the feather from the Roc when it had been alive that we hadn’t completed the fluffing tasks. When it was pointed out to him that we hadn’t killed it and that this was the only fluffing feather left off the bird he simply shrugged and stated that the tasks were clear and we’d failed to complete them. The mother fluffer then graciously said that if we showed our mettle in a battle against him then he would concede that we deserved the reward. We said “Fluff yeah!” and got ready to pummel him into the fluffing dirt but he then had the fluffing cheek to say that we should rest and we should meet him there at dawn the next day.

Well today is that fluffing day and we caned his narrow fluffing ass from here to the nest and back again. Oh he tried to put up a fight but he was no fluffing match for us. The only shame of it was that we didn’t fluffing kill him. I came close and but for weakness I would have splashed merrily in the puddles of his blood. People were calling for him to yield (another sign of their weakness) but I was adamant that this and any person standing between me and my destiny would pay the ultimate sacrifice. It was as I was attacking that he sank to one knee and begged for mercy. Sadly for him I don’t have any left. It has been pounded out of me by repeated acts of treachery from those I should be able to call my allies. Curly, it seems, still has some humanity left. Just as the fatal blow would have landed, steel met steel and the final cut was deflected by his sword.

I could hardly look any of them in the eye. They may have thought it shame for my bloodlust and they would be half right. The look in my eye was of shame but the shame was theirs. The shame that even in the face of armageddon they lack the courage to destroy our enemies.

Sneeze spoke to the four guardians and was given access to the fountain of ‘who gives a crap about the fate of the world when we could make you run round and perform some clean up of our islands most horrific monsters and waste your time’, which he then drank from.

Around us the wind began to swirl, becoming more and more violent. Soon we were sucked into the air and just as suddenly we were dumped back to the ground. Our wounds, minor as they were, had been healed and my mind was somewhat calmed. The four guardians were there (and past them, at the edge of a cliff, a load of, what I assume are their trainee druids) but they looked different; more innocent. They looked how I now can only feel when I’m with Miszen.

Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen. Miszen.

The name itself is like the finest elven wine. It makes me able to dream again of hope... of a future. If only I could see her. If only I could be with her for even one solitary minute. If only the constant pressure and agony I feel could be taken for just a short time I know I could carry on unburdened by the treachery and expectation I am forced to carry alone. Still, even the thought of her is enough to lighten my spirits. The knowledge that each step I take brings me closer to her safety (and the worlds) and the end of my destiny and the beginning of a life untroubled is enough to keep me putting one foot in front of the other.

I digress.

The guardians didn’t recognise us (which makes sense... if they’re younger it means we’re in the past somewhere and since they don’t meet us until the future, they have no idea who we are. However, if we’ve now met them in the past why didn’t they recognise us in the future? Maybe they did. If they did recognise us though, why was one of them being such a moronic git? Come to think of it I did see Muffin talking to one of them so maybe he had good reason) but they did say they had been expecting us. They said we were there to protect them as they put the final spells of binding onto the phylactery of the undead dragon Dragotha. They parted and allowed us a glimpse of the object we desire to destroy. As always though, it wasn’t quite that simple. The druids said that if it was destroyed Dragotha would go wild and go on a rampage that would likely destroy the world but if they hid it, then the undead dragon would spend an eternity looking for it. Not sure they thought that through. If I’m an undead dragon and someone takes something and hides it from me, I’m pretty sure I’d beat them down until they revealed where they’d put it. If that failed, I’d then start beating down his family and friends and if that failed, I’d probably go on a rampage that would likely destroy the world.

Suddenly, the sounds of the battle to end all battles flooded into our ears as if it had somehow been silenced before. We looked past the druids, who began casting their concealment spell) for the first time to the edge of a canyon beyond. As we approached it became clear that it wasn’t just a battle – it seemed like the entire world of men had gone to war against the entire underworld of undead. Every conceivable kind of dead creature was crawling, shambling, writhing and generally moving like Grim at the end of a long session.

“We can’t hold them!” came a half warning, half plea and (if using Curly’s maths) half pant wetting scream. We moved in front of then just in time to see the first worm-infested, rotting hand plant itself over the top of the cliff.

As I was about to storm the on rushing undead, two things stopped me. One was the screech or Dragotha who appeared from behind the curve of the canyon, making a fly-by of his army. The other was a quick but intense flash of light following which Lady Bondage appeared. She didn’t look any younger but she didn’t seem to recognise her. She had come with a warning and help: apparently others were coming (others are always coming) and something else was coming (not the least ambiguous). She then almost made me laugh by saying that she was going to “take on Dragotha”. She then managed to make e swallow that laugh by turning herself into a silver dragon.

Without even a “by your leave” she took off and pursued the other, seemingly larger and less pretty dragon. Her appearance had served as a distraction (purposeful? Very possible) and allowed time for nearly two dozen Swords of Kyuss to shamble their way over the edge of the cliff. Grim, in a fit of Curly stupidity, broke our ranks and charged, only to be sent flying back by a blast of black energy which seemed to weaken him. Sneeze, Curly and Sheheit followed him into the fray and our battle to protect the druids while they finished their spell was on.

I activated my wings, flew over the undead and hovered over the canyon as Muffin sent a chain of lightning sizzling along the line of undead. Fortunately our time spent having to smell Grim’s sleep farts meant that the smell of burning, dead flesh was a welcome aroma. Grim muttered a prayer and a wall of blades appeared between himself and the dead ranks. This also left me abandoned on the other side. Had Grim realised this? Is this an act of betrayal by the one person I thought was still my friend and ally? Can I truly no longer trust anyone?

Those thoughts are ones I mull as I write, but at the time I was naively worried for him as the undead ranks simply walked through the blades and charged a now enlarged Grim who swatted it away with his axe. Another black blast emanated around the enemy and they seemed reinvigorated (well, as reinvigorated as animated dead bodies can be). Three more blasts followed but this time aimed at us. Myself and Muffin managed to dodge out of the way but then others felt the full force of the blasts.

Curly and Sheheit decided to form a team (I remember what that was like) and started to dispatch the SoK’s at the same time Sneeze decided to disband the team we’d made and move on to pastures new. Apparently glory together is less important to him than dying alone.

Muffin returned to form by casting a spell where nothing happened before hiding himself behind the people we were trying to protect. Grim also returned to the trustworthy (?) soul he is by casting a mass healing spell on us all which also managed to destroy the one in front of me.

The mass of undead eventually managed to break through our ranks and advanced towards the (still – seriously: how long does it take to cast a concealment spell? They would be completely useless at hide and seek! “A hundred, coming, ready or not! Oh… there you are… still in the same place… trying to cast a spell… You could have gone behind that bush over there you know. Or maybe you could have crouched in the tall grass.” Idiots!) spell–casting druids. Fortunately their march was halted by an invisible wall (Muffin claimed credit after the battle but history suggests that he’s lying) which allowed the rest of us to form up and actually act like a team for the briefest of moments.

The détente was disturbed as the ground behind us began to shake. Landing on the cliff top came the largest thing I’ve ever seen since I followed Grim into the toilet and he’d left a hanger on. What was revealed to be a Boneyard of Kyuss let out a glutteral roar as it engulfed four SoK’s in one gigantic mouthful, an action that seemed to increase its immense size.

Muffin was the first of us to shake off our shock (probably because he was safely hidden – more successfully than the phylactery was - behind a magical wall and four powerful druids) and sent another chain of lightning blasts towards the beast. This only served to stir the undead monstrosity to action and it spat out four (yes, count them, four) huge undead dragons!
It suddenly became more vital that the Sok’s, which were by now diminished in number but still doing severe damage to us, were put away once and for all. Muffin dropped a ball of acid on some and the rest of us hacked away with renewed focus.

Two of the dragons charged Grim but somehow managed to miss his immense bulk whilst the other two headed straight towards the druids and began pounding on the magical wall. The boneyard, clearly a creature of great intelligence, charged straight for the greatest threat – me. I’ll admit that Curly and Sheheit can swing a blade, Grim and Muffin can throw the odd damaging spell or two and Sneeze is also there, but the hit to their moral, coupled with the loss of my martial prowess would have spelt disaster to the entire group (apart from Curly who can’t spell disaster – to him it would have spelt ‘Uh-oh!’).

Muffin moved himself further away from danger (because being behind a magical wall and four powerful druids isn’t protection enough it seems) as he cast another lightning chain (I swear that’s what’s going to be on his gravestone – Here lies Muffin. He could cast lightning chains) which managed to get two of the dragons and the remaining SoK’s. Grim sent out another heal us-harm them spell (which was most welcome by this time) and managed to take down three Sok’s allowing me to finally take out the last one before focussing all my attention on the much larger threats.

I avoided the Boneyard and flew to the dragons, narrowly avoiding one of the more effective fireballs from Muffin (it sent one dragon plummeting over the edge of the cliff in a huge ball of flame, managing to wipe out a number of the combatants below). However my having to dodge sent me right into the path of one of the other dragons (perhaps his ploy all along) which grabbed me in one massive claw and tried to shove me in its maw. Fortunately my lack of faith in my ‘allies’ had me prepared – I slashed at it mercilessly until it had no choice to release me. Sheheit charged up and finished off my work. Whilst the fact that she took credit for my work annoyed me, it did afford me the opportunity to head straight to the Boneyard which was busy tearing chunks out of Curly, Grim and Sneeze.

Just seeing the mass of Kyuss worms writhing all over the colossus mass of the undead beast was enough to enrage me. I hacked and slashed at the creature with a ferocity I’ve rarely felt. It was as iff all my pent up emotions of betrayal, love, fear and expectation came flooding out and the beast was the unfortunate recipient. Thinking on it: it is a very good thing all that aggression was spent on that creature; I would hate to think what would have happened if it had exploded on my group.

I suppose I should remember that: they are MY group. I cannot hold them to the same level of expectation that I hold myself to. Maybe I should be more forgiving of their mistakes, their doubts, their weakness. Should I look more to myself? Have I given them reason to doubt? Has my leadership been waning? Have I been so focussed on the end game that I have forgotten that these people have been by my side throughout and have, in their own way, been as committed to the cause as I? Something to ponder on as I try to sleep.

Anyway… The beast fell and broke into a million tiny pieces on the ground alongside the remaining dragons it had produced care of Sneeze, Sheheit and Muffin.

“The spell is complete!” came the cry and we turned just in time to see the phylactery disappear in a swirl of blue and gold.

Relief turned to shock as an unearthly screech came from above the battle. Dragotha was hovering above Lady Bondage, still in dragon form but rapidly hurtling to the ground where she hit with an almighty crash.

As the dust cloud from her impact reached us, I doubled over as a wrenching pain enveloped my whole body. The whole scene began to fade and a new one appeared. We were back on Tilagos, our wounds fully healed. The storm that surrounded the island was gone and the ruins were even more ruinous – about fifteen centuries more ruinous. Planted in the ground beside us were the four banners that Talentless had been wearing.

As the last image of the great battle faded, a word seemed to echo through the ages to us. It simply said “Kongen-Thulnir”

Godsday 18th Goodmonth 595

A smell woke me up this morning (and not the odour of Grim picking out his belly-button fluff and flicking it in my general direction for once). It was the smell of sumptuous food. My eyes opened to see a feast fit for the heroes we certainly are (or at least I am) and the others already munching down on it. I know I sleep heavy (and it does seem to be getting heavier) but still I’m sure a swift kick round the legs would have stirred me.

We finished the meal surprisingly quickly (most of that due to Grim, Curly and Sheheit’s gluttonous appetites) and once again found ourselves mist-like flying over the island towards the cheerleaders place. As we approached we spotted a camp the occupants of which became apparent as we closed: Darling and his mooks. Thinking this was a bit too easy, we circled for about half an hour seeing if there was any kind of repeating pattern to their movements (a sure sign that the camp is an illusion according to Muffin). There weren’t any so without further delay we landed someway in the forest and are currently getting the various aiding spells cast on us.

Muffin is a tool! Why on earth do we listen to anything his overgrown brain tells his mouth to say?!

“Are you sure it’s not an illusion?” says I.

“Of course not!” says he.

“Right,” says I, “I’ll go and do some killing!”

A few moments later I slash a strike at the efreet that would have decapitated a dragon only to have my blade pass harmlessly through the ILLUSION!!!!!! I mean I know he’s into lightning and thunder but a rudimentary knowledge of illusions is something that I’m sure every wizard in the land has... except ours. Useless git!

The upshot of this was the most boring minute of non-fighting I’ve ever had. Instead of normal people who, when laying a cunning trap for the enemy, set up an ambush somewhere in the vicinity, Darling and his crew set up their ambush on the other side of the island (ok, so maybe five hundred feet but still, a fair whack away – not like the horse was going to stealthily clippity-clop all that way and surprise us).

After what seemed like an eternity of them closing on us and Muffin trying to redeem himself by throwing ball after ball of thunder at them and Grim dusting off his longbow and shooting in their vague direction (although some of his shots were closer to hitting himself than them), the Kenku, in a fit of what I can only assume was boredom and frustration, decided to appear from nowhere and attack Muffin. Myself and Sneeze closed in on the obviously suicidal bird and within a matter of moments had him plucked and filleted.

By this time the efreet, who was mounted on the black, flamey horse, had trotted to inside Curly’s range. Curly released all his tension and frustration in a single blow of his sword and swatted the efreet off his steed and onto the floor where he rinsed and repeated as necessary until the thing finally granted Curly’s wish and died in a mass of blood and gore.

At this point things were looking rosy but quickly they got a mite, well, crimson as out of nowhere a ruddy pit-fiend appeared. Sheheit seeing either a potential mate or an enemy did what she/he does when confronted with either: launched him/herself straight at it and clobbered it about the head. Thinking that if she/he was able to subdue the demon it would be in for a worse fate than any that could be levied in the depths of any level of hell, I decided to help it out by ensuring it didn’t survive. It was just after I skewered it that Muffin, whose timing was, as always, steller, shouted that if anyone with pure intentions hit it, it would drain their physical strength. With that piece of advice, he flung a ball of energy at the creature using the same accuracy that he’d just implemented with the timing of his warning.

Since I’m the only one in this group with pure intentions (Curly doesn’t really count as I’m pretty sure you need a brain in order to intend something), I left the demon to Sheheit and any possible late night consequences she/he had in for it (I hope Grim doesn’t get jealous. Or worse: turned on! Oh no! Agggghhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!! Get these images out of my head! Please!!!!! Hanseath! By all that is drunk and flatulent, make me forget these horrific nightmarish visions! Banish them from not only my mind but from all of history) and headed towards Darling who was busy closing in on Curly.

The corny, unburdened by a mount, trotted over to Sheheit and reared up, striking him/her in the face with its hooves as well as nibbling on her with its gnashers (not sure what they feed that thing but it must be pretty bad if it s able to stand tasting his/her flesh) and with that Sheheit disappears. At this point Curly took it upon himself to take an action that I have become all too familiar with: he abandoned me. He ran off towards the demon and the demon steed. It didn’t take him long to reduce the corny tiny shreds before turning his attention to the beast of hell. Sneeze sprinted over so that they had the beast between them and what with Muffin firing bolt after bolt of magic at him, it seemed only a matter of moments before the demon would be no more.

At this time the monks had managed to close the distance and started to engage me. At this time of peril I saw my saviour, my friend, my one true ally, speeding (ok, waddling) to my aid. Grim! My brother in all but blood (and smell)! Except he wasn’t! He was running to help the others deal with one lousy pit fiend whilst I took on the might of four monks and a Vecnarite (although I suppose after travelling with Sneeze for this amount of time he clearly thought the odds were well in my favour). I side-stepped the first monk and sliced into his torso and made ready for the others. The other three approached with more caution but just as they neared, they suddenly shot straight into the air and stopped with a thump. It was as if the gravity in that area had been changed somehow. Muffin gave me a wink which (I really hope) meant that he was the cause of this.

Have I misjudged him? Is he a true ally? Does this one deed make up for the past? No! This is a trick on his part. He is lulling me into a false sense of security. I must never forget his past actions... must never let my guard down around him. One good deed means nothing when all it does is save his own skin. He analysed the situation and gauged that I was the best and only chance he had of stopping the monks and Darling from reaching him. Now more than ever must I be wary.

As I was momentarily distracted by Muffin’s cloak of allegiance, Darling took the opportunity to cast a spell the outcome of which was as useful as most of Muffin’s attempts. I closed in on him and felt some kind of barrier in my way. Whatever it was, it wasn’t enough to stop me. It was enough to make my strike err... this time.

Meanwhile the rest of them who’d ganged up on the pit fiend finally managed to slay the beast, although the fight had taken its toll on Curly whose physical strength seemed to now mirror his mental strength. With it gone they had no choice but to come and help me vanquish the one remaining threat. To do otherwise would be to dispel the splinter of doubt that I have as to their loyalty. Grim pushed passed the barrier as did Sneeze but Curly lacked the mental fortitude to withstand Darling’s dweomer.

What happened next was what I would like to call ‘The Abominably Rubbish Spell-caster Ever in the Whole World 595’ (or ‘The A.R.S.E. Whole’s’ as they are better known) and this year it was a world class field. The odds on favourite, Muffin, was under severe pressure from three rivals who had been slowly rising in the ranks. Commentary comes from Deree Silentfoot, a man not known for his magical prowess but still, as someone said, “I don’t know about magic, but I know if that spell worked!”

Grim cast a spell – nothing happened. Darling cast a spell – nothing happened. Muffin cast a spell – nothing happened. Curly cast a spell – nothing happened. A tough one to adjudicate, I know.

The competition looked destined to be going to a replay when Sneeze and myself started our own competition called the ‘Hack Into him Tournee’ (Or ‘The H.I.T’s’). I smacked Darling with my sword and kukri – he yelps in pain. Sneeze smacks Darling with, well, a smack – he yelps in pain. Grim, fresh from his joint victory in the A.R.S.E. Whole’s decided to try his luck in The H.I.T.’s and managed to be slightly more useful.

Darling then managed to eliminate himself from the competition by casting a spell that managed to actually accomplish something, even if that was to disappear from this plane of existence. Fortunately for us, one of the monks (who have recently been pummelled into submission) had been entrusted with the Roc’s feather so we seem to have all the articles we need to complete the quest.

We’re currently sitting here as Grim also eliminates himself from the competition by healing us. Once that’s done we’ll be off to see the guardians.

Hi all,

long time no... anything really. There was a, ahem, disagreement in our group which put a halt to our gaming entirely for a while and AoW for a LONG time. But we're back and Deree is continuing where he left off - telling the unbelievable truth about the adventures of Deree's Daring Dynamos! Not sure if anyone is still interested (wouldn't blame you at all if you're not - it has been almost 4 years after all) but I thank you if you are and thought that i might as well try and get all of the adventure path in. You might have to forgive a cheesy moment as an old character is 'phased out' (killed off) and a new character is brought in but with all the changes in our group it was deemed necessary.

I hope anyone who is reading this still enjoys it. As always, any comments, suggestions, questions are always welcome.

Thanks once again for reading.

Deree Silentfoot

aka Steve

Moonday 17th Goodmonth 595

We came out of the room on the rope to find the creatures gone but the titan’s belongings (and bloodied corpse) were. We gathered them up and gave the ruins a quick search before Grim once again turned us to mist and we set off towards the mountains at high speed. I have to say I could get used to this misty travel. You get to move really fast, really high and get to see amazing views – it is the only way to travel. If I survive putting Kyuss down I think Miszen and I should see the world travelling like this.

We approached the mountains and headed towards the left of them where they split to form a valley. As we got closer it became more apparent that the entire floor of the valley was covered in thick, high brambles with thorns the size if daggers (wonder what this place is called...?).

As I was contemplating the ease by which we were avoiding the prickly situation below when Sneeze pointed out some, what looked like smoke but turned out to be steam, coming from the side of one of the mountains. Grim guided us to the large cave entrance where we reformed out of our mist into the sweltering heat of the sauna. Between them, Grim and Muffin cast some spells that would protect us from the intense heat of the cavern. I made sure I was the recipient of one of Grim’s – I’m still not sure I fully trust him but I damn sure trust him more than Muffin.

That done we set about exploring the vast cavern. Unfortunately spanning its entire width was a crevice from which the steam was coming. The steam was so thick that it completely obscured the cave beyond. Grim produced another block of solid stone that formed a bridge across. The steam parted to reveal a fifty foot strip of cave before another fissure of steam. Visions of the trapped, multi-doored corridor of nowhere that we encountered in the Whispering Cairn came flooding into my mind like the nightmare it was. With images of endless steam vents leading to a blank wall I decided to take things into my own hands and activated Icosial’s sword and flew straight through it. Fortunately on the other side of this wall of steam stood a huge red-eyed tusked monster with huge claws with three equally huge red-eyed crocodiles.

Unfortunately they spotted me but they were too slow to do anything about my presence. I dashed back through the steam and warned the others who were still muddling over how they might cross the steam (rather unimaginatively they settled for another stone bridge).

Grim, Muffin and even Curly cast some spells to aid us before Grim called on Hanseath once more to build a bridge of stone. Sadly our foe had been using his time wisely as well. The bridge revealed three more crocs and a large patch of greeny mist which seemed to be slowly making its way towards us.

I managed to fly through the gap in the steam that the bridge had made and Sneeze and Sheheit managed to run through before in enveloped the bridge completely. Meanwhile Muffin sent a huge ball of lightning into the centre of the creatures, turning two of them into crispy fried crocs.

As this was happening the big beastie focussed it’s gaze onto my and all of a sudden my flying ability was taken away. Fortunately this landed me right in between two of the crocs who, after they snapped their not so tiny jaws in my direction, i started to hack away at. Sneeze eventually joined me and we put pay to the overgrown reptiles in short order (or medium order in his case).

On the other side of the bridge, despite my initial feeling that they were sitting back and letting me, Sneeze and Sheheit (who had stupidly found herself caught in the green mist) have all the fun, Grim had in fact been praying once again and the green mist disappeared. An instant later, Curly trundled over and charged the Thornvale beastie but only succeeded in getting himself impaled on its massive tusks.

It was then that Muffin, after many months of knowing him, finally got brave. He swaggered over the bridge and seemed to be summoning up all his magical prowess into one huge spell that would surely slay the nightmare before us... or would have if the creature hadn’t sent a thin green beam of light into him causing him to reel in less agony than he deserves. His reply was to put his tail between his legs and target a ball of immense sound at some of the crocs. This did however stun the beasts enough for the three effective warriors to finish the O’Dile family off and start on taking down Thorny.

By this time Curly had managed to free himself from the tusks and was busy summoning all his might, both physical and holy, into each and every swipe of his sword. Even i have to admit that it was fitting, despite the fact that we all were slashing it into tiny, weeney pieces, that he had the finishing blow.

It was only after the battle that we realized just how injured Curly was as he could barely stand or put together a coherent sentence... ok, maybe that last one wasn’t so much of a clue to his injuries (other than the one sustained when his mother surely dropped him on his head as a baby) but even Curly can usually ask for help healing his wounds.

As Grim spent time curing the injuries, myself and Sneeze had a search of the cavern. There wasn’t too much but we did find a large pile of corpses in varying states of decay. We muttered a few words over them before relieving them of all their worldly possessions (it is true that you can’t take it with you... unless you’re the ones who survive the battle).

Curly hacked off the tusks and we left the cavern and were once again swept up into Grims misty transport system.

With three of the four tasks done, we set about trying to figure out where the Roc king might live. After much thought and deliberation (three seconds to be precise0, we headed for the highest peak in the mountain range. Unsurprisingly we found the nest of said creature. Unfortunately the creature was dead and the nest burned to virtual ash (shame the quest wasn’t to find the living feather of the phoenix king). The poor birdy looked like it had been dead for about two days no doubt the work of Darling and his minions. It was a sound tactic to be fair to him – take out the easy target whilst we take out the strong ones then force us to find him. The only problem with that plan is that now he has to face us, the most fearsome creatures on the entire island... and Muffin.

We figured that they would probably be somewhere near the site of where the cheerleaders met us but thought it best to have all our resources available to us for the upcoming fight so once more we herded ourselves into the grey room on a rope and tried to sleep.

Starday 15th Goodmonth 595

The day started off much like any other: we had breakfast, Grim cast a spell to fix the shattered crystal and we placed it in the hole on the manhole cover and a bright light enveloped us all transporting us to a demi plane somewhere close to the ethereal plane. You know, the usual.

The place we found ourselves in was considerably less stormy than the island. Well, apart from the continuous lightning that covered the mountains that lay in the distance one way. A forest lay in the opposite direction from which we could see a green glow that disappeared almost as soon as we saw it.

As Sheheit voiced the question we were all thinking (the one about “Where in the nine hells are we?”), four humanoid figures appeared from a copse of trees near us. They were carrying spears and had four flags that jutted out over their shoulders.

They stopped around a stones throw away and one of them stepped forward and spoke:

“I am Talanthros, guardian of the realms. Why have you come here?”

With a small shrug we told them about our quest to stop the prophecy of the Age of Worms and that we were there to find a long forgotten library in order to find out information about the phylactery of a dracolich who wants to bring about the end of life as we know it.

The guardian simply nodded and said that we were seeking the fountain of dreams (here was me thinking that we were looking for a building with a load of books in it). However he couldn’t just simply tell us where it was, oh no: we would have to perform, what he called, the “Trials of Telagos”. Each of them then in turn spoke of one of the trials.

The first trial was the claiming of Krathanos’ golden belt.
The second was to silence the doom shrouds mournful song.
The third was the death of the Thornvale nightmare.
The final trial was to harvest the living feather of the Roc king.

The first one finished by saying that we were to complete these tasks and return here. Only then would the fountain, and with it the knowledge that we seek, be revealed to us. Then, without so much as a “by your leave”, they disappeared leaving us with a number of unanswered questions like had the other groups received the same message; were they even here; should we wait here for them; should we go and perform the tasks; do the tasks have to be done in a specific order?
It was Sheheit who came up with the final question:

“Can’t we just go and kill something?”

With that we decided to set off for the forest to find out what that green glow was. I swear that distances are distorted on this plane because it took us forever to get to the edge of the woods (which Grim didn’t complain about – he’s taken to walking behind Sheheit as we march; something about a better view), which was made up of the most unnatural trees. They oozed a foul smelling black sap (which Grim claimed, but wouldn’t prove, could be eaten) and swayed in a non-existent wind.

Any doubts we had about continuing were put aside when the green glow reappeared in the distance and with one last breath of clean air we entered. The going was slow and not a little boring and unpleasant what with the black sap dripping down on us up until the soft sound of padding feet crunching over the underbrush came into earshot. Looking up from the floor where we’d been trying, mostly in vain, to find somewhere to put our feet where they wouldn’t be sucked into swamp like puddles of the ooze (or in Grim’s case from staring at Sheheit’s rear end) we were greeted by the sight of four large panther-like creatures with long tendrils that ended in horny ridged pods.

Muffin whispered that they were displacer beast pack lords just as they pounced. Sheheit tried to meet them head on but got whacked with a bunch of tentacles for his/her trouble. I activated Icosial’s sword and flew over them to the other side to make sure they couldn’t get away and for my troubles Muffin the traitor showed his true colours again. With me isolated and vulnerable on one side he cast a spell to speed up everyone else, everyone on his side. It’s becoming more and more obvious that he and his puppeteer’s puppeteer have been plotting against us from the very beginning and if the others won’t acknowledge it, they must be part of it.

That thought distracted me only enough for one of the beasts to nearly strike me before we started to work like the team we should be. Muffin unleashed a torrent of cold as Sneeze slammed into one with a blur of fists the last of which produced a cracking of the beast’s neck. Curly and Grim were busy laying into another and I have to admit that I didn’t participate in the fight as I should have. I was almost content to take a backseat to see what happened and it crossed my mind that I might be better off if these beasts thinned our herd a bit but a wave of lightning brought me back to reality. As long as they are at least pretending to help me, they are inadvertently helping me. It’s not worth letting them go... yet. I do think, however, that their time will come. I only hope that my time doesn’t come before it.

The rest of the beasts were slain in good order and we continued our trek through the woods before darkness came and we were forced to rest once more in Muffin’s room on a rope.

Four pack leaders and no packs! What was that; a meeting of gang leaders? Were the rival packs trying to sort out a peace agreement or settle territories? Weird!

Sunday 16th Goodmonth 595

Grim said that Hanseath had granted him the spell that took us to the island so as to speed our journey. We turned to mist and Grim took us high above the trees so we could get a better look at our surroundings. It turned out we were still on an island but this one was bigger than the one we’d left. It stretched about sixty miles at its widest point and over a hundred at its longest. Beyond the woods was a grassy plain at the end of which sat what looked like ruins on the edge of some cliffs. In the other direction were the clump of mountains, still crackling with a myriad of lightning bolts but from this angle it was very noticeable that there was one peak that stretched high above the others on the far right and a valley dividing the range into two on the left. More immediately though we could see the green glow once more and pinpointed its location to a clearing in the forest.

Grim whisked us to the edge of the clearing and, as we rematerialized, a melancholy sound started to fill my ears. As I fully formed the song, emanating from a huge twisted tree that swayed hypnotically in the centre of the clearing, seemed to speak to my very core. It sang as if it could read my mind and gave a voice to all my worries. The others seemed unaffected, but what should I expect from such heartless, emotionless creatures as they.

With tears in my eyes I followed them in their attack on the tree. As we approached the tree seemed to almost turn and face us and send out a wave of energy that washed over us all. As it did the others stopped their advance and as one, slowly they turned. As they did I could see the maniacal grins spreading across their faces. As I watched their eyes sunk into their heads and were replaced by the unmistakable green maws of the Kyuss worms. They surrounded me and continued to close on me each preparing their respective weapons just as I, trembling, dropped mine to the floor. Worms started coming from each of their orifices and as one they struck. As they did I felt a surge of denial and, summoning all my energy screamed it out. Suddenly they were all gone, as if the noise itself had dismissed the nightmare, and they, or maybe I, was back to where we had been before they turned; attacking the tree.

It took me a few moments to realise the illusion had ended and that I was still armed. With renewed vigour I ran to join the fray but was knocked back by an almighty gust of wind that whirled its way from the trunk of the Doom Shroud that took me off my feet. As I lay prone one of its huge limbs slammed down on top of me, cracking more than one rib as they did. Barely able to breathe I stood and once again joined the others who had, under Grim’s instruction, surrounded the immobile, rooted tree, in case it ran away... Either way it wasn’t long before our combined blows felled the tree and with it ended the mournful song.

We took some time dressing our wounds (the sound of bones rejoining is a lot worse than the sound of them breaking although without the nasty aftertaste) before returning to mist and heading off towards the ruins on the edge of the island. As we approached we spotted what looked like large birds circling the ruined keep. As we demisted the birds seemed to form up and started to rapidly approach us.

As they approached it became pretty clear that these weren’t just birds but more like large flying statues; Gargoyles. Considering all the creatures, monsters and demons we’ve come across, I’m a little surprised that we haven’t come across something as mundane as a gargoyle before now. And even stranger is to find one (or six to be more precise) we had to come to another plane of existence.

Anyway, swords drawn we waited for the inevitable melee but the birds stopped short of us and bid us welcome:

“Greetings brave travellers. Please come. Our master, Krathanos the conqueror, exiled by the gods for his designs to rule all of creation and shackled by the treacherous druids of Tilagos until such time as brave stalwarts arrive to free him, would very much like to meet you. We can offer you food, shelter and respite from this dreary place.”

With a shrug we followed the beasts into the crumbling keep where they led us to a corner of it that overlooked the sea to where their master sat. Even on his stone chair he towered above us all. As we approached Grim simply whispered “Titan”.

As he stood the mighty golden belt around his waist glinted off the sun, as did his toothy grin.

“What, may I ask, are six fine people as yourselves doing here on my island?”

Seeing that twitch that comes over Curly every time he’s in the presence of true evil I decided expediency was called for so I told him all we wanted was his belt. Apparently we weren’t the first people to come asking for it and he promptly picked up a stick with the head of a minotaur sitting proudly atop it.

“There are only two ways you are going to get this belt off me. The first is to take it off my corpse”

We didn’t get to hear the second option as Curly took that as an invitation to begin the slaying. The gargoyles scattered like women when Grim enters the room as blades stabbed into the giant. The titan simply smiled at each slash until Grim walked up to it, empty handed and placed his palm on the exposed part of its leg, an act that usually only warrants a recoil of repulsion but this time caused our foe to scream so loud that the rubble at the top of the ruins started to shake off.

Sadly this only served to make him mad. Muffin continued his tradition of not doing much as he waved his arms in the air, muttered some mystical arcane words that ended in a mighty crescendo the result of which was, well, nothing. Absolutely nothing! Zip, zero, zilch, nil, nada, diddly-squat. I’m not sure he could be more useless... except when he’s trying to kill me.

Crapanus, in the mean time, simultaneously healed his wounds and sent a wave of volcanic blasts encompassing all of us, except Muffin who it turns out had placed an invisible wall between him at it, or maybe more accurately between him and the rest of us.

Myself and Sneeze managed to dive behind some rubble , avoiding the blast, but Curly, Grim and Sheheit took the blast full on. Muffin briefly appeared from behind his shelter to through a ball of energy which rocked the titan briefly, but that was enough for Sneeze to start unleashing some pent up aggression onto Crapanus. A flurry of fists shot into the titan (along with a foot for good measure) casing the beast to stumble backwards into range of my blades which didn’t seem to be as effective as they normally are.

At this point the sound of deep screeching came from the other side of the keep. Muffin from his hiding place shouted “Girallons!” which turned out to be four-armed, albino gorillas with really bad attitudes – nine of them. Along with these creatures came the gargoyles who had by this time drawn their bows and were peppering us with arrows from the air.

Meanwhile Crapanus kept healing himself and sending out lightning that struck out at each of us in turn although not quick enough to catch myself or Sneeze.

As the apes approached Grim called on Hanseath to put a ring of blades around us which halted their charge momentarily but sadly did nothing to stop the gargoyles arrows which were fast becoming more than a distraction.

The titan was more and more focussing its attacks onto Sheheit who by this time was looking more than a bit worse for wear. Grim attempted to get close enough to him/her to cast a healing spell but took a swiped from the large hammer Crapanus was wielding. At the same time Muffin pelted it with another ball of energy the titan halted his attacks for the briefest of seconds and spoke a single word: “Anarchy!”. Personally I thought it was a bi8t of a waste of time and continued to slash at its legs, but the word must have had some kind of power as on its utterance both Curly and Sheheit dropped their weapons and stood there with even more dumb, confused looks on their faces than they normally have. Sneeze grasped his head as if trying to ward off the power and managed to do so successfully.

With two “warriors” down the rest of us redoubled our attacks onto the titan (apart from Muffin who cast a flying spell on himself and joined us on the safe side of the barrier of blades. The primates by this time has started to climb the ruins in an attempt to get over the wall of swords but the walls proved incapable of taking their weight and collapsed sending them falling back to the ground.

Crapanus once more healed some of his wounds and spat lightning at us. Grim ttok the full force of the bolt before he managed to summon up one last prayer to Hanseath and once again touched the titan who, once agains, issued an earth shaking scream of agony. Using this momentary lapse myself and Sneeze whirled like dervishes at our foe who fell to his knees allowing Sneeze to target a powerful blow to “the “conquerors” head. The crack of his skull breaking was every bit as cringe-worthy a sound as Curly trying to explain the rules of pitch and toss.

A cacophony of screeches from both the air and the other side of the blades was quickly followed by a hail of arrows that thudded into Grim and Sheheit which sent them collapsing to the ground. Muffin dodged the shafts and, deciding that cowardice was the better part of valour, conjured his room on a rope before promptly disappearing into it. I ran over to Grim and poured a healing potion down his neck. Grim opened his eyes in time to see another shower of arrows head towards us. Fortunately he managed to rush through a prayer and a stone wall materialised over us just in time for the arrows to clatter into it instead of us.

Sneeze, realising that Curly was under some kind of confusion spell, picked up the fallen weapons and proceeded to cuff him around the ear, an act which prompted Curly to become enraged and start to chase Sneeze around our self-imposed prison and eventually into the magic room (where from soon came the sound of a flurry of thuds followed by armour crashing to the ground). Grim managed to drag the unconscious body of Sheheit into the room (I’m pretty sure he had himself a grope as he was doing it – hope he didn’t find a “surprise”...) as I went for another, possibly more important target – the golden belt. It took but a few moments to unhook it from the waist of the fallen giant but the thing weighed more than Grim. I barely managed to drag the damn thing into the room before the girralons finally managed to make it over our barriers.

We waited for the affects of the word to end before rousing Sheheit and Curly (who still hasn’t noticed the charcoal moustache someone drew on him during his reverie) and healing our wounds. I decided that we should wait until tomorrow before venturing out again – I’m sure we could have taken the gargoyles and apes but Grim was insistent that he’d used all the prayers Hanseath would grant him that day and would be unable to heal anyone until he’d properly shown his faith and loyalty to our deity. This of course meant another night of sitting there listening to Grim sing and burp (which frequently happened at the same time) until he eventually passed out. I wonder how long it’ll be before he’ll notice that someone has written “orc lover” on his forehead?

Loving this! Keep it up please. Like the different viewpoint from Ashlea as well although would be interested to hear Garands version of events, assuming he was conscious and still retained the ability to write.

Unfortunately interrogating them was probably more painful for us than them. It was like talking to three Curly’s only without the amusing hair. It turns out that they are completely innocent: just simple pirates trying to earn a crust. They were hired by Darling to bring them to this island and were paid a very pretty penny for it (which I think they must have spent on all that mithral armour they were wearing and the axes they were wielding.

They didn’t know much about their employers: the man with the hand was very scary and kept saying that he was trying to get closer to his god and needed to find an eye to do so (according to Muffin that would be the Eye of Vecna, another powerful artefact – wonderful!). In regards to the others – they hardly saw the birdman, the tieflings fought using their fists, the “flamey man” used a “falcon” (think that’s meant to be falchion) and there was an ogre with wings, a tail and a spiked chain (another cornugon). On top of that, when they got off the boat Darling summoned up a black mount with flaming hooves – a nightmare.

Anyway, once the boat crashed they ran off to the ruins and left the orcs to try and salvage what they could. The orcs tried to follow them but they were repelled by some rocks with long, thin tentacles (ropers according to our resident monsterologist).

We stripped them of everything but their loin-cloths and their carpentry tools and set off for the ruins. The storm surround the isle encroached right to their edge and we stuck close to the storm. We made our way around the edge of the ruins until we came to the other side of them. There, on a small peninsula that moved into the storm we spotted a something glinting. On closer inspection it turned out to be a really fancy obsidian manhole cover. It had three oval indentations and was covered in strange runes that Grim managed to translate with Hanseath’s help. The runes repeated one phrase again and again: “Return my eyes to me and I will gaze through the storm”.

As we were investigating this, Sheheit thought she spotted something back in the ruins. We wandered over to find some freshly smashed up statues. She/he searched them but didn’t find anything. We were about to take a look ourselves when Curly felt a tingling sensation in the south (lucky bugger). Sadly it was only his inner goodness sensing an evil presence. We tooled up and rounded the corner to be confronted by a tree... with eight really long branches... in a miniature swamp... bless it!

Leaving no time for sentiment over killing a plant I waded into the mud and started striking it. As I did Muffin unleashed a huge ball of lightning over it. The tree seemed to recoil with the damage but that didn’t stop it lashing out all eight of its woody tentacles out at us. It tried to grab onto each of us but only managed to take hold of Sheheit. The damage that it caused nearly took me off my feet but somehow I managed to stay upright if somewhat shaken by the trauma.

At this point Curly waded in only to be met by a mouth appearing from its trunk and biting into him like a chew toy. We encircled the plant, hacking it to firewood as we did. Muffin sent another massive lightning ball into its trunk before Sneeze finished it off with a few well aimed punches.

To our dismay, as the creature fell it started to reform but the re-growth was quickly halted as Muffin, continuing his unusual run of usefulness, sent a burst of flames from his hands onto its fallen trunk: it’s a bit strange seeing a tree writhing in the agony of death-throws.

We waited for the flames to die down before Grim cast a spell to detect magic finding a few traces at the bottom of the murky water. He dived down there and returned with not only a sword, some clothes, shoes and a necklace but also some strange crystals that were glowing red on the inside but didn’t detect as magical. In total we gathered twenty-six of them. Sneeze had the bright idea that we should see if they fit into the manhole cover, which one actually did. Nothing happened when we did but at least we were a third of the way there.

We continued our exploration of the ruins and came across a small open area that had several stalagmites in it We cautiously approached and as we entered Sneeze shouted a warning about the stalagmites (which were in fact ropers) which came at about the same time as all six of them tried to whip us with their inordinately long, stringy, tentacly sucker things. Sneeze managed to push me through a magic door so I was next to one but then proceeded to beat it to death before I’d recovered forcing me to risk life and limb getting into melee with the next nearest one in order to massacre it but even that small joy was taken away from me by Grim who used the only effeminate thing about him, his anklet, to transport himself next to me and steal my kill. The kill stealing was now starting to annoy me a bit – even Muffin got in on the act by disposing of two with a fireball – and to top it off, Curly performed probably the most lazy act I’ve ever seen; one of the ropers on the far side of the clearing managed to wrap all six of its tendrils around him but instead of cutting himself free Curly decided to let the creature drag him towards it before unleashing his holy wrath upon it. Here’s me tumbling, jumping and dodging everything in sight trying to put myself in a position to hit but not be hit and he goes and lets himself get bound up like a submissive and dragged along like a dog with worms and he’s the one who gets to smite. It’s not fair! I did manage to finish the last one off but by then it was getting a bit old hat.

We searched around for a bit and managed to uncover some more crystals, only this time they glowed with an inner green and there were only twenty of them. We took these with us as we searched the rest of the ruins for the third colour which eventually turned up in the last place we looked. To be fair, most things turn up in the last place you look because you don’t carry on looking for something after you’ve found it but in this case it was in the last place we looked because it was in a place that someone had already looked. Yup, Sheheit the blind had missed the blue shimmering of some broken crystals that lay beneath the smashed statues. Sadly there wasn’t a whole one left – we’re guessing, as we’ve not had sight nor sound of Darling’s group, that they must have gone down the manhole and smashed the crystals in order to stop us following them.

Grim then uttered what is fast becoming his catchphrase: he could pray for a spell from Hanseath to fix one of them but it would have to wait until tomorrow. So here we are, joy of joys, stuck in Muffin’s grey room on a rope being forced to endure another night of Grim farting in a very confined area and then having Muffin and Sneeze complain about it and to be honest, I’m not sure which is more annoying.

Why? Why didn’t she mention my skin? She flinched slightly when she saw it but that was the only reaction she made. Maybe she already knew. She’s well connected. Did someone see me take the elixir? Did my bandana slip? She didn’t detect as evil; she didn’t feel like a servant of Kyuss. But then again Grim made us swallow those potions that hide the true nature of our souls, maybe she did the same. Why didn’t I sense it today then? She can’t have an endless supply of them? But then again she’s meant to be a spell caster. But that’s just a rumour isn’t it? I’ve let myself go soft; become distracted. I need to re-focus on what’s important... on what’s most important. I have to stop the prophecy... I have to save the world. Saving myself, if it’s not already too late to do so, if it’s of any import at all, can wait.

Earthday 13th Goodmonth 595

Woke up to a note from Lady Bondage saying that she’ll have to put the meeting back until midnight (I wonder why?) and that a carriage would pick us up. All this meant that we had another day to kill (which the others did by buying up all the potions in the city) so I decided to check Miszen out once more.

She’s not a follower of Kyuss, of that I’m sure. She’s definitely not telling me everything but then again I can hardly condemn someone for that. If people knew what I had done, what I’m willing to do, then my life, if it is worth saving wouldn’t have anyone left to save it.

She’s got to be lying. She’s setting us up! The story is too ridiculous to be true and yet we have no choice follow it through as the implications of doing nothing if it is true are worse than if we are being played for fools by the dragon vampire. Still as long as we know we’re being used maybe we can use that knowledge somehow.

Although how did Sneeze come up with that theory? Why is he all of a sudden being this paranoid? Although it’s only paranoia if it’s not true and I happen to agree with him.

It all stems from and leads to Manzorian. It started with one of his protégées protégée – Salanor – who enlisted us to the service of Alustan who started us on our journey, pointed us to the Whispering Cairn and our first encounter with the Wind-dukes. He took us to the Lizardmen and left us to clear out their rat hole: our first encounter with Kyuss. He then pointed us to another of Manzorian’s pupils, Elogos, in the Free City who made us put a halt to Raknian’s plans to turn the entire city into undead. That had to be stopped because maybe then Racknian would have ascended to godhood just like Kyuss did when he turned his entire city into worm-ridden corpses. We then came back to Diamond Lake where Alustan had fled from a dragon who just happened to reside just outside Alhaster, another city where we were sent after another encounter with the Wind-dukes. Alustan then pointed us towards Manzorian who sent us off on a wild goose chase up to Kuluth-Mar, probably just to get us further invested into his puppet show. He then sent us to Alhaster, to another city with a Ziggurat where we’ve now been spun another yarn by possibly the most evil of creatures and sent off to another place that we suspect is part of the Wind-duke’s history in order to find something that has been hidden for over a thousand years from the eyes of those who worship the worm god before the man with the Hand of Vecna gets it, not that he can because if he could we wouldn’t have been enlisted to do this dirty work. We haven’t been given the destiny of stopping the Age of Worms – we’ve been chosen to bring it about.

But if we haven’t...? I don’t know.

It started with Lady Bondage apologising for the late hour but, apparently “walls have ears” (which obviously go deaf at night). She handed us a document, or rather the remnants of a document, that she claimed was Barricade’s journal. He’d left it there sixteen years ago.

“It is as I suspected. The ancient undead dragon Dragotha is the herald of Kyuss. He was granted his unlife by the Wormgod well over 15 centuries ago, after he found the monolith in Kuluth-Mar and brought it to his lair in the Rift Canyon. When Dragotha was slain by Tiamat, Kyuss repaid him with the gift of undeath, and in so doing bound him eternally to his will

The Rite they performed obscured Dragotha’s phylactery from thought, history and sight... as if it never existed at all. But the Order of the Storm were no fools. They suspected Kyuss would one day rise again, that his worms would learn to walk once more.

Dragotha’s presence in the world has been quiet for the last several ages. The loss of his phylactery 1,500 years ago left him a coward. Yet my research proves he stirs from his long sleep, that he now intends to waken Kyuss after all this time. Why now? What has changed? I fear that a journey to the Wormcrawl Fissure to confront the dracolich is my only remaining option”

Lady Bondage thinks he’s “quite mad” but personally I think he’s the most sane man in the world. Definitely more sane than those of us who are about to go off on the directions of one undead dragon in order to capture the phylactery of another.

I digress... Lady Bondage said she’d lost the other parts of the journal over the course of the past sixteen years (of course she has. Probably the parts that let us know exactly why Barricade didn’t go after the phylactery himself – no, instead he risked his life by going to see the dracolich in person.) but has managed to find out some things during her research: the Order of the Storm were meant to have been wiped out by the cult of Kyuss but some survived. They managed to discover the location of the phylactery and filed the information away from the world in their library which was located on Tilagos Island, a piece of rock some hundred miles west and twenty miles south of Alhaster. However, before their eventual demise, the Order “removed” the library from this world to another plane of existence and put a curse on the island to surround it by a magical tempest that would destroy any ship that tried to sail through it.

Wonderful you might think only not so wonderful. Apparently she had an assistant called Heskin who betrayed her by taking the information she’d gathered and giving it to, a rival – a cleric of Vecna called Darl Quethos – and that they were on the way to the island as we spoke. Lady Bondage then said that she could scry on Hesketh to find out exactly where he was and who he was with and without so much as a ‘by your leave’ she popped open a scroll and read off a brief incantation. Slowly and image appeared in front of us:

it was of a man tied to the mast of a ship that was being thrown from side to side in a raging storm. Blurred figures rushed past but suddenly a few bodies came into focus. There was a large birdman we all recognised as a kenku along with a couple of horned tieflings but more disturbingly were the final two: a large red humanoid that Muffin told us was an Efreet and a man we’d all seen before, if only in a vision: it was the man who we saw chop off his own hand and place the Hand of Vecna in its place. Lady Bondage identified him as Darling just before he turned and looked directly at us. Smiling he grabbed the tied up man by the throat and, with his new hand, tore the Hesketh’s throat out.

With that the image faded and we were left staring at Lady Bondage who didn’t seem all too bothered that the rival party was almost at their goal and was less bothered that she had no information about the phylactery (you know, minor things like what it looked like or how to destroy it) or how we might get to a library that is on an unknown plane of existence. She was also less than helpful in regards to Worm-woman and the fact that she was one of the Avolakia and was very vague in regards to why she hadn’t been able to locate the cathedral of the Ebon Triad in sixteen years of trying yet within two days we’d turned it over. She is into this up to her undead, blood-sucking, cold breathing neck!

We left and I was ready to burn the entire corrupt, Kyuss worshipping city to the ground. Her involvement was so blatant that even Curly could see it. In his words:

“So what we’ve got to do is go to an island that is protected by a storm to find a library that is no longer on this world as it was hidden by an order of people who were enemies of, and pretty much wiped out by the cult (and who could possibly be something to do with the Wind-dukes) in order to find out some information about a phylactery of a dracolich that has been asleep for the past fifteen centuries but, who we’ve been told, is bent on awakening Kyuss all on based on the word of a high ranking member of an inherently evil society who claims to be working against the cult but couldn’t even find its stronghold after sixteen years and who has also only managed to save two pages out of Balakarde’s journal, which just happen to be the ones relevant to the next stage of our journey even though they say that Balakarde went somewhere other than the direction that she’s pointing us in. I think something fishy’s going on”

We agreed we’d start our journey on the morning (Grim said he could pray for a spell that would allow us to travel like a high wind) but whatever information we found out we would not share with anyone, least of all Lady Bondage, Manzy or any of his cronies. We will not destroy the phylactery, not until we find some evidence ourselves that that is the right thing to do.

Does that mean Muffin as well? He was our initial point of contact. Is he part of the conspiracy or just another patsy like the rest of us? Is that why he tried to kill me in Icosial’s tomb? Did he know that it would come to this and that I would be the one to discover his involvement, his betrayal! I’m thinking it might be time to sit down with Muffin and find out exactly who, or what, he is. The only problem is what would the others think? I might be able to persuade them, what with all this mounting evidence against his mentors mentor. The problem is he doesn’t detect as a Kyuss follower and hasn’t come up on Curly’s radar either. Maybe he doesn’t know quite how high this conspiracy goes. Maybe his loyalty stops with Tramp-face! The bond between teacher and pupil can be strong enough to blind the student to the faults of the master.

Is Grim being true or is he trying too hard? He gave me something when we got back to the inn: a small figurine of Hanseath with the word “Friendship” carved into the base. He said that if I was ever in trouble all I had to do was say the word and I would be instantly transported to him, no matter where either of us were.

Freeday 14th Goodmonth 595

We left the city first thing and followed the lead we were given from the vampire and headed to the island of Tilagos. Grim cast his spell and slowly we found ourselves disappearing into vapour. All of a sudden we were moving up into the air at an incredible rate. We raced over the sea and within a matter of an hour and a half we found ourselves looking at a very localised, very violent storm. We circled until suddenly we started heading towards the storm. As we got closer I spotted what Grim must have spotted earlier: a small gap in the torrent.

For a mile we followed the tunnel until abruptly the storm ended (well, the torrents of rain and thunder did – the wind was still whipping) and we found ourselves looking upon a museum of shipwrecks. Crafts of all types, old and new, littered the shoreline along with the skeletons of their crew. All apart from one: this one, that had managed to skewer itself on a rocky outcropping, had a number of well armoured orcs swarming over it trying to repair the gaping wound.

We landed and reformed along the shore behind one of the wrecks and, even before the discussion about whether we should or not, Grim was up on a large rock calling for the, and I quote, “scum sucking, goat humping, dog molesting, self-raping, testicle licking, water drinking, sons of a gnome” to get their “wrinkly arses” down to the beach in order to “feel the wrath of a proper god instead of that curd chewing cyclops posing as a pathetic excuse of a deity”. It had the desired effect. A few moments later a dozen orcs came hurdling off the deck and charged along the sand toward our axe-wielding, beer swilling cleric.

Fortunately the terrain was such that myself and Sneeze had time to hide ourselves behind what was left of a row boat and managed to set an impromptu ambush. The mass of the group passed our position before we hurled ourselves at the last few. Muffin managed to catch a few in a dense fog that burned their skins and slowed their movement, Grim managed to trap some others in a ring of whirling blades. Sheheit ran to intercept some wan... sorry, flankers and Curly and Grim intercepted the few that got through us.

As we were hacking, stabbing and slapping the ground crew, another orc appeared on the ship, a floating shield dancing in front of him, shooting arrows at a very rapid pace. Muffin put a stop to that by enveloping him with another ball of thick, acidy fog. As the orcs in the fog slowly crept their way out, a couple of the ones trapped in Grim’s ring of blades summoned up some courage and barged their way through one set of spinning steel only to find themselves stepping into mine.

Such was my ferocity that Sneeze decided it was ok to abandon me and head towards the archer who by this time had dropped to the sand and was busy trying to pick off Muffin and Grim. Muffin had responded to this with a wild barrage of flaming rays that he seemed to be aiming at the clouds.

Orc after orc fell beneath our feet but unfortunately not all of them – sadly three of them, including the archer, seeing the writing on the wall, decided to surrender. Sometimes it’s a real pain having a holy warrior in the group... wait, no, scratch that... sometimes (on very rare occasions) it’s not a real pain having a holy warrior in the group.

Freeday 7th – Moonday 10th Goodmonth 595

Not sure if you’d call the past few days interesting but they certainly were a relief from the hum-drum of slaughtering our enemies. Muffin went off to the Free City to do some more shopping (he sold all the items we’d found and bought an ornate box that he can make go, in his words, “extra-dimensional”, whatever that may be, which we we’re going to hide our weapons in and summon to us if things get out of hand at the party). Curly spent his time meditating in his room and Grim also meditated in his own way. Not sure what Sheheit did with him/herself but whatever it was it didn’t involve me. This left me with time to deliberate over what to say, or more importantly what not to say at Zeechy’s party. Hopefully it’s at least good enough not to get us killed. The one thing that did happen is that we had a letter from the prince stating that there had been a change to the schedule: The “Harlequinade Mortificatio” was to be replaced by something called the “Memento Mori”. Both sound about as weird as each other.

Godsday 11th Goodmonth 595

The day has finally arrived and it started with a fanfare, literally. Trumpets blazed at the crack of dawn causing Grim to spill the drink he’d passed out holding. It took three of us to hold him back from shouting obscenities out the window; an act that might not have gone down too well considering everyone else out there was busy singing Zeechy’s praises.

We were about to go down for breakfast when Grim advised not to eat anything as he had a few surprises for us later. Immediately I assumed the real Grim had been kidnapped by doppelgangers much like I had but no-one else could have downed the three flagons he proceeded to on an empty stomach without a visceral reaction.

With not much to do until two hours before sunset, I wandered the streets of our host’s city. Every few minutes a cheer or a chant would rise and circulate the cobbles but the lack of lustre in the eyes of the populace betrayed how they really felt. Today they weren’t celebrating the twenty years that Zeech had been on the throne: they were mourning them.

Four hours before sunset, Grim called us all to his room where he revealed his two surprises. The first was a feast he said was fit for a band of heroes such as ourselves and I have to be honest, he was right. The food was delicious and, by the way we all felt afterwards, very nutritious. I don’t know what Zeechy’s going to serve tonight but I can’t imagine it to be much nicer than what Grim served us.

The second of his surprises were the dragon-skin cloaks. Not much of a surprise you might think since we all ordered them together but Grim had spent a bit of time and money customising them. He’d had some spells cast on them so that they fluttered as if in a constant breeze which you have to admit is pretty cool. Curly didn’t initially think so. He cast a beady eye over them, later admitting he thought they might have the souls of the dragons trapped inside but it seems that we’ll have to wait until later for the morbidity to start.

Waterday 12th Goodmonth 595

I am not sure what to make of last night. It was the good, the bad and the ugly all wrapped into one. My own personal triumvite you might say. I’ll start that the beginning.

We were picked up from the inn two hours before sunset, just as the invite said. What the invite didn’t say was just how wonderfully bizarre the carriage would be. The coach itself was plated in gold and jewels and was being drawn by four trolls that had been dressed in the garb of footmen. Grim asked the driver (who had the biggest mouth I’ve ever seen) if he could drive but was refused that privilege. He got in the cab with the rest of us muttering about not being able to whip the beasts of burden.

We arrived that the palace which is one of those places where once you reach the gates, you’re only half-way there. We passed a number of gardens each bearing a name more unusual than the last. Eventually we stopped at a large hedge with an arch cut into it the top of which was trimmed the words “Vertiginous Terrace”. The arch led into a garden that only ended when it hit the cliff overlooking the river.

The party wasn’t as big as I expected. Including ourselves there was only eighteen people; there was Tiddles and Ratty who were busy talking to a gnome apparently called Toris (who had a nose you could slide off and a handlebar moustache that could be used as a swing); Potato, the public prosecutor was there smoozing with a Captain Volras and some guy called Lord Malaven Kilraven; Krusty and his crony V’juss were talking to an insanely fat dwarf called Hoff (of Hoff’s Solutions one would presume); Mahuudril and Hemriss (two of the weirdest looking women I’ve ever seen: the first, a high-powered merchant, had hair like a medusa and the second a hunchback the left side of whose face seemed to be an inch higher than the right) talking to the most wonderful sight I have seen since I accepted the invitation from Tramp-face to explore the Whispering Cairn: a vision the like of whom I’ve only dreamt about in my deepest slumber, something I’ve been badly lacking since I chose to put my destiny above my wellbeing. She floated over to me and introduced herself: Miszen Mitchwillow. We spoke for what seemed only a few seconds but I was told later it was twenty minutes of release from the pressure, the expectation, the guilt before I was brought screeching back to reality by a tuneless blast from a crooked trumpet. The prince and his entourage of freaks had arrived; none of them as freakish as the ‘Ominous Fabler’, a pitiful creature dressed in the garb of a jester.

I thought it was a bit weird that Zeechy had come out wearing his napkin as a bib but each to his own (to be fair I think it was meant to be a ruff or something – you’d have to ask Muffin for the proper fashion term)

“Lords! Ladies! Honoured guests!” the Fool began in an unusually deep voice, “My Prince Zeech bids you welcome on this most auspicious occasion.” He paused as if waiting for some applause that didn’t come. With a frown he continued “The prince now invites you to present your offerings on this the twentieth anniversary of his glorious reign.”

And so the fawning commenced. One by one people prostrated themselves at his feet offering anything from wine to jewels (Krusty’s offer of a few meagre gems was particularly pitiful). At last it was our turn and as a group up we went.

“Prince Zeech” I began “My name is Deree Silentfoot and this is my band of Daring Dynamos! On this most glorious of occasions we humbly present to you an item of magical power and extravagant design. A belt that will allow you to work longer and harder; will allow you to see in the dark without the aid of any candle light; it will also allow you to better understand the structure of stone and how best to use it in constructions like that of your magnificent ziggurat. We hope that this small token of our esteem pleases you.”

Didn’t think that was too bad, especially as it allowed us to not have Curly say anything that might get me killed. Zeechy seemed impressed although his side-kick only narrowed his eyes in a slight scowl, something I took as a good sign.

Zecchy then dained to address us himself announcing that Lady Bondage would be late and would only be able to make it for the meal and would miss the festivities before it.

With that announcement the Fool stepped forward and regaled us with a tale about a knight who did something with a demon and then regretted it (like anyone who did anything with a demon didn’t end up regretting it) but I have to admit my attention was elsewhere. It was hard to take my eyes off the beauty that I had been forced to part from – a leader needs to be with his group in body of not in spirit.

After an eternity, the “Memento Mori” ended with a finale of dancing skeletons (Curly later told me that they must have been illusions as he sensed no evil from them) to a rippling of applause. The Fool once again appeared, this time dressed as a scarecrow (although how he made himself uglier was the true thing of wonder) on stilts and announced the next part of the entertainment would begin on the “Balcony of Expectance” – The Handsome Slaughter of the Curious Avians.

This turned out to be a crossbow shooting competition with the quarry being coloraptors – tiny magical birds that can shoot a spray of rainbow colours at their prey in order to stun them. It was declared that each competitor would have twenty seconds to shoot as many birds as they could and if anyone could beat Zeechy, they would get a thousand gold. Well I’ve done a lot more for a lot less so I stepped up as did all my group apart from Muffin. We didn’t do too badly: Zeechy got a total of six and myself and Sheheit bagged five a piece, which was pretty good seeing as I’ve never even picked up a crossbow before. Curly, Grim and Sneeze didn’t even look like they were trying... either that or they really, really suck. None of the other guests took up the offer (even Kilraven and with a name like that you’d have thought he’d have been a shoe in). Throughout the tournament we were served honey roasted coloraptors on skewers, which, after the feast that Grim had given us and the feast yet to come was a bit gluttonous I thought... tasty, but gluttonous.

With no-one winning the money we were ushered inside the house which was just as decadent as you would imagine. Everything seemed to be gold plated and encrusted with jewels and the things that weren’t had some kind of carving or mural on it. We were led down some stairs and into his basement which turned out to be a miniature gladiatorial style arena. On either side of the pit were two small cages covered with blankets. The next challenge was announced: Zeechy had two rings which would allow the wearers to control the creatures in the cage. If anyone was willing to step up and beat the prince they would win a golden egg which the Fool unveiled with a flourish.

Heads turned as people looked to each other, all unwilling to accept... until Grim put his hand up – I’m guessing that he needed a release as all the alcohol seemed to be getting soaked up by our previous meal. Curly looked a bit dismayed at the prospect of one of our number taking control of another being but that gloom was lifted the same time the blankets were and the proxy’s were revealed: cockatrices. As Grim took his seat opposite Zeechy, a large basket of cats was tipped into the arena and the Fool went through the rules: each competitor is to use their cockatrice to turn as many cats as they could to stone before attacking each other. The winner would be the last cockatrice standing.

Whilst the battle (and I use the word in the loosest possible terms – twenty minutes of chickens chasing cats and then pawing at each other before Grim was declared victorious) was running I took the time to quiz people about Miszen. Tiddles and Ratty (who hadn’t separated all evening) said that she was a merchant who deals in luxury items from across Greyhawk and, according to Potato, she’d been invited as the Zeechy wanted to buy some goods at a knock down price. She is also rumoured to be some kind of powerful spell-caster.

Grim was presented with the golden egg and once again the Fool led us off, this time back to the Vertiginous Terrace. There the next challenge awaited: Bowling the Devious Heads. This turned out to be a game of boules using human skulls. Zeechy cast the “jack” (or should that be “Jack”? The prince is weird enough to have found someone called Jack and had him decapitated just for this game) and everyone was to pick a coloured skull from the mound and whoever got closest would win.

We let the others go first and I have to say, they were pretty pitiful. Kilraven did the best but he was still a fair way short. Curly was the first of us to step to the line but instead of throwing the skull he simply placed it carefully at his feet. The Fool seemed about to say something but Zeechy stopped him with a wave of his hand.

Sheheit, Grim and Muffin then all stepped up but none could beat Kilraven’s mark. Next it was Sneeze who launched his skull to around three feet away. Not a bad throw, but definitely not in my league. Or it wouldn’t have been had I not caught the glistening eyes of Miszen a second before I lined up my throw. For some reason I found myself trembling; my palms moist; my mouth dry. I tried to focus but it was no good. I could feel the weight of expectation with each second that passed and eventually I simply had to take my throw. The skull slipped from my fragile grasp and the skull landed two feet shy of my compatriots.

I tried not to catch anymore glances as Sneeze was presented with a necklace adorned with a silver skull with rubies for eyes. An unseen gong was, well, gonged, and the Fool announced that it was time for the feast to begin. On the way in Sneeze muttered something about me being a poor example of a Halfling, what with losing a throwing competition to a human. No-one else seemed to see the smirk on his face that betrayed the playful manner in which he spoke. I bit my tongue as what I was thinking would have no doubt brought a sharp ending to our evening.

Relief of reliefs Sneeze was on the opposite side of the circular table but more importantly Miszen was sitting next to me! I barely noticed the meal go by (even the bizarre menu brought by manticore waiters didn’t distract me: a bulbous worm to start followed by a blackbird pie. Next came a tojbasarrirge – a weird dish that was an entire tojanida, stuffed with basilisk steaks which are stuffed with arrowhawk breasts which are stuffed with a stirge – it was disgusting – even Grim couldn’t stomach it. After this was purple worm jelly which was loverly although apparently could have poisoned us if it was done wrong – and lastly came a huge cake in the shape of the ziggurat that Zeechy was building... but more on that later) and was only disturbed from my conversation with Miszen a couple of times.

The first distraction came with Hoff challenging Sheheit to an arm wrestling contest, which Sheheit won... easily. The next came when Lady Bondage entered the room. Now ordinarily this wouldn’t have been cause for much fuss and it wasn’t exactly her entrance that caught my attention – it was the fact that Grim spat out a mouthful of ale and near fell off his chair. He then grabbed me and almost dragged me to the bathroom where he explained to me that before the meal he’d managed to slip away and cast a spell that would allow him to see everyone’s true form, just in case there was one of those Avolakia in the room (which there was – Mahuudril turned out to be one. Not much of an effort on her disguise it has to be said – her hair looked like the worst parts of an octopus, a worm and an insect) but it discovered something else – Lady Bondage wasn’t a lady at all... she was a silver dragon. Not only that but when he’d managed to get over the shock and study her a little closer he spotted some tell-tale signs that she was an undead, or more specifically, a vampire.

Mixed emotions were running through me at this point. I mean, in theory, we should call down the box, weapon up and go and slay her. But on the other hand we need to speak to her in order to get information on Barricade in order to stop the prophecy. We decided not to kill her, or Worm-woman just yet – it wouldn’t do to ruin Zeechy’s party – and more importantly we decided not to inform Curly – we weren’t sure he’d have the perspective that we did. Something so good and pure that has been corrupted to quite probably the most evil and tainted creature it could sounds like something he’d like to mercilessly and unequivocally slay.

The rest of the night passed without event... apart from Krusty getting really drunk and trying to brag about beating Sneeze in a jumping contest (tumbleweeds could literally be seen rolling across the room at that point); Grim standing up and singing his new extended rendition of the Ballad of Deree’s Daring Dynamos which got minimal applause; The eight foot high cake of the ziggurat with a marzipan Zeechy on top collapsing as it was being carried to the table (he wasn’t happy about that – Curly once again saw this as a sign that we should end his reign over this city); oh and, during the braggery, just after Grim and Muffin had done a duet regarding us being the saviours of the Free City what with us foiling Lightboob’s plans for it to be turned into a city of undead (which got only slightly more than minimal applause), Curly decided that this would be the right time for him to make a declaration of his own:

“I am part of this adventuring group, a group that has spent the past six months fighting to stop the forthcoming prophecy of the Age of Worms. A prophecy set to be fulfilled by the once high cleric, now deity Kyuss. On this quest we have met many of his minions and all have fell beneath our blades. It is this burning quest that has led me without fear into the city of my enemy”

It was at this point that he took out his holy symbol and displayed it proudly on his chest. It was at that point that Muffin started gripping his miniature replica of our weapons chest and I found myself grasping Miszen’s hand.

“We have destroyed the threat of the Ebon Triad in our town of Diamond Lake, killing the aspect of their heretical god in doing so. Under this very city we found their unholy cathedral and vanquished another. We have had our lives dedicated to the halting of the prophecy of the Age of Worms and destroying Kyuss and all who follow him. If this is enough to issue a warrant for my execution, then so be it. Live or die, I will win; death will only send me to a higher plane of existence, a plane where I will be with my god; if I live then I get to continue my gods will on this plane, a will that has given me the honour of saving the entirety of Greyhawk from this darkness.”

The silence this time gathered no weeds, only wide-eyed stares. Even the Fool had the sense not to say anything. All eyes were on Zeechy and his eyes never left Curly. Slowly our host pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, his face blank. His arms extended out and came together abruptly. Slowly he repeated and increased the speed and soon the rest of the table joined in the applause that became more and more rapturous.

There were six long exhales of held breath as Zeechy returned to his seat and eventually the Fool found his voice once more and ushered us all into the ballroom where a number of stringed instruments were busy playing themselves. As soon as we entered, The Blob grabbed Sheheit by the hand and dragged her onto the floor for, what some might describe as, a dance but I would describe as the most repulsive thing I’ve seen since I accidently walked in on Curly in the bath shaving his chest. Fortunately for me, a distraction wasn’t far away in the form of a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to find myself eye to eye with the only person in the room I could be, or would have liked to have been ,eye to eye with.

“Are you not going to ask me to dance?”

I said nothing but simply took Miszen by the hand and led her to the centre of the wooden floor. Everything washed away; for that time we were together there was nothing else. No-one else was in that room; there was no Triad, no Kyuss, no prophecy and no destiny. There was only me and her. This made the end all that more sudden, unexpected and heart-rending as we were escorted back to our carriages. As we were separated I felt her place something in my pocket (I’m sure I wasn’t meant to so I didn’t draw attention to it).

The ride back to our inn was made in silence with Grim nursing his egg and Sneeze fondling his new skull. As soon as we stopped Muffin, Sneeze and (to a lesser extent) Curly started berating myself, Grim and Sheheit for losing focus at the party and that it was lucky for us that they hadn’t and that they’d arranged a meeting with Lady Bondage for the thirteenth.

At first I was really angry with them and it took all my resolve to keep my mouth shut. I mean for the first time in six months I took a night off from being their leader because for the first time I’d met someone who could make me feel like a normal person. I’ve sacrificed so much for them and everyone else and they couldn’t even let me have one night for myself. But on reflection I suppose they were right – destiny isn’t something you can pick and choose when to follow and I suppose I should remember that there will be plenty of time for myself (and maybe Miszen) after we’ve saved the world... should I survive.

Still, it was nice when this morning, with Grim nursing a hang-under (or whatever you call it when you wake up sober for the first time in who knows how long) that the others gave me an excuse to go and see her (the thing she’d slipped into my pocket was a card with only one word written on – “Deluxery”) as they wanted to find out some more about Worm-woman. I suggested that with her and Miszen being in the same business that she might know something or be able to find out something about her.

I left the others to whatever it is they do when I’m not there and headed off to the Deluxery where I found Miszen seated talking to Shag and Ratty. As she saw me, Miszen rose and came over. She suggested that we should go somewhere more private to talk and led me up to her room. The conversation was short lived and a bit disappointing (she didn’t know anything about Worm-woman but promised to ask around some of her contacts) but what followed was not.

Waterday 5th Goodmonth 595

Decided to make an early start of it which meant that Grim had to be awoken in the usual manor of us combining our strength and chucking him down the stairs of the inn. Also as usual, by the time we made it to the bottom he was up ordering breakfast with a lunch chaser.

Muffin informed us that he’d managed to identify the elixirs we’d found in the dragon’s “hoard”. One increased a person’s strength and health, another made them more amenable to others and the last provided them with the protection of a dragon’s hide. We were all eager to partake of this last one until Muffin told us of the side-effect: you would develop black scales across your shoulders, arms, legs, torso and forehead. The others quickly decided they didn’t like that (not sure why, not as if it’d ruin their looks anymore) but I was resolute. I decided that this was a boon that would give me a vital edge in our quest. I uncorked the vial and was about to swig when Sneeze stopped me with a question:

“Are you sure it is worth it?”

“I guess your resolve to halt the Age of Worms isn’t as great as mine.”

The question proved what I’d always known and I answered almost from my heart (part of the truth was that I’d discovered a few more scars recently and I was hoping that the scales would cover them up or if not then at least could be blamed on this transformation).

With no further delays I quaffed the vial fully expecting a searing pain to ensure but the transformation was merely an unpleasant drying and darkening of my skin on the affected areas. Sadly the scars weren’t covered and if anything were more noticeable. Fortunately they still hadn’t appeared on my face, now the only part of me that isn’t covered. I tore off some cloth from my spare shirt and tied it around my head like a bandana.

We set off after Grim had finished his mass of meat, eggs, potatoes and mushrooms (all of which were consumed in the same time it took Muffin to choke down a lettuce leaf) and headed straight to Arena Street and the Sinners Sanctum. An easy task to start the day with you’d think but no; dodging the merry crowd of Hextor worshippers, complete with banners, tickertape and surprisingly catchy hymns proved to be a bit of a problem. I don’t think Curly’s spent so long looking down alleyways since the time we lost Grim in the Free City.

Anyway, eventually we stumbled across a dilapidated hovel without any sign above the door. An old woman was standing at the doorway and seemed to be busking for clients, by which I mean that she was beckoning in sick people with the promise of healing rather than showing a bit of wrinkly leg which no doubt would have beckoned sick people of a different kind.

As we approached her she started to give us strange looks and, rather perceptively, commented that we didn’t look sick (although if she’d seen the look on Sneeze’s face as Grim shovelled down his slop then her diagnosis might have been different). Under the intense torture of having to listen to Curly fumble and stutter for the right words, Old Furpotia (as she referred to herself, although she used to be known as just Furpotia some years ago and some years before that as Young Furpotia and I’m guessing by the time Curly had finished speaking she wished she was known as Ex-Furpotia) confirmed that this was indeed the Sinners Sanctum. It was a house that she and her late husband shared until he passed away (from the looks of the woman I’d say he probably died of his own free will) and since then she’s been using it as a kind of healing through stinky salve probably made up out of cat’s pee hostel.

We offered to help her out, what with having a bonifide cleric with us but she took one look in the bloodshot eyes of our resident cleri-drunk and declined that proposal. It was then that I decided to get tough, by which I mean I told her about what the members of the Triad had said when questioned (although not exactly when they had said it) and that it would be best for her if she let us in to check it out rather than have us call the Blessed Angels to do it for us.

Reluctantly she agreed and let us beyond the threshold, an action I almost immediately regretted. The place stank worse than I imagine Sheheit’s jock strap or knickers would after a night of debauchery with an overly friendly skunk. There were a few straw cots in various states of disrepair which had on it the most pathos inducing people I think I’ve ever seen. I can’t imagine how desperate they must be to have to come here but it’s below any level even I’ve seen before. If the others felt anything they didn’t show it and to be fair to them, we did have bigger kuatoans to fry.

Furcoat-noknickers kept a beady eye on us as we searched the hovel for any sign of anything suspicious and something did jump out on us – a trap door underneath a moth-holed rug that was quite well camouflaged into the floor. The hag insisted that she knew nothing about it and the well rusted hinges made me inclined to believe her.

After advising Furcoat-noknickers not to let anyone else into or out of her “hospital” we opened up the door and were greeted by the comparatively sweet aroma of stale air. Beyond the door was a shaft that descended into darkness. A dropped sunrod showed the depth to be a hundred feet, all of which we decided to traverse using the rusty ladder that precariously clung to the wall. Seeing the others nervously eyeing our climbing aide, I went first. The ladder ended in the middle of what seemed to be some kind of prayer room. Rotted mats lay in a rough circle around the centre, each with a faded black triangle (the symbol of the Ebon Triad) woven into it. The room itself was otherwise unremarkable with only a single narrow corridor off.

Alcoves had been cut out at regular intervals and it was down one of these that I spotted the final piece of evidence that inextricably linked the Ebon Triad with the coming of the Age of Worms. Each alcove had a smattering of dried up Kyuss worms. Until now the evidence against the triad in regards to the prophecy had been minimal but this would hammer the last nail in their coffins.

With renewed vigour and anger I continued along the corridor which ended abruptly in a pit the walls of which were covered in, what turned out to be, vial prayers to Kyuss. Muffin said that they were in the language of an ancient race known as the Avolakia, a species that combined the worst aspects of worms, octopi and insects. What’s worse is that they can magically polymorph themselves into humans and blend into society with little effort. The prayers also referred to a place called M’Theskuss, the Writhing Tabernacle, their unhoiliest of places and a powerful ally, something that was the consort of the five faced one; a dragon called Dragotha.

This pit, we discovered, was three times as deep as the last only this one had no visible means of getting down there, unless you count falling as an option, which we did as Muffin cast his fall like a feather spell. As he cast it memories of that day in Icosial’s tomb when he decided to use this spell top betray me, letting me fall to what he no doubt thought would be my death, and I decided to implement my own failsafe by activating Icosial’s sword and flew down alongside them.

The pit opened out into a disappointingly small room. I say small but it was fairly big, just not quite as big as you’d expect for the hub of a cult worshipping three dark gods. The striking feature of this room was a huge statue (or what initially looked like a statue) of the Ebon Champion that we defeated at the bottom of Dourstone Mine only this one was missing two out of three hands on its left side and one out of three on its right.

As soon as our feet hit the floor, the statue (which turned out not to be a statue at all but a demon of some sort that encaptulated the essence of all three of the evil gods) animated in a threatening manner. By which I of course mean that it started moving so we attacked it mercilessly without provocation at all. It’s weird: thinking back on it, there have been a few creatures that haven’t actually done anything to us that we’ve slaughtered. It’s quite possible that all these things were simply defending themselves. And to be fair to any that were attacking us, I don’t remember any of them coming into my place of abode and robbing all my worldly possessions and if that were to happen, I’m pretty sure I’d animate in a threatening manner as well. Maybe it’s time to have a re-think of our “invade and attack” policy.

Either way, we decided that the effigy of the champion of an evil triumvite of gods that was in situ in the cults unholiest of unholy places was fair game for maiming, killing and sticking with the business ends of our killing utensils, which we did. Sadly it also was of the opinion that the infidels that had come to loot and pillage its home were fair game for the some ass-whipping of its own. The brunt of the creatures attack were focussed on Curly (why something that is only a third of Hextor would be so adverse to someone who is wholly holy aligned with Heironeous is a bit of a mystery. I mean, they’re brothers. Me and my brother were constantly falling out and fighting but the next day we were best mates again – apart from the time he gave Lavender a hair cut – that wound might never heal) and talons followed by teeth tore into him like Grim into a leg of lamb (only not as grotesque).

Muffin decided to be his usual useless self (sick of writing about it actually. From now on I think it should be assumed that Muffin is always being useless unless stated otherwise) by firing a storm of acid which washed over the creature like our conversations do to Curly. The rest of us started to buzz around it like flies around Grim, slashing into it with a ferocious speed that increased as Muffin cast another tempo increasing spell. Sadly our slashing and stabbing seemed to only anger the creature who, in several very swift motions, created a giant mist-like flail that hammered down on Curly with very unmist-like force, spread its arms to the heavens causing all his wounds to be healed, swiped it’s three limbs at Curly and Sheheit all whilst deciding to chomp down on some Halfling, rare, with a side order of Halfling.

Its refusal to simply lie down and die peed me off just a little bit and I once again set about stabbing into its vital areas. Curly invoked the power of his god through his sword and the added benefit of killing a demon of his brother seemed to spur Heironeous on as Curly’s blows seemed to dig deeper and deeper into the champion’s flesh.

With a roar that turned into a whimper, the creature fell beneath our combined efforts. As Grim tended to the warriors wounds, Muffin wandered around the dank chamber, paying particular attention to the wall from which our fallen enemy had been standing and soon declared it to be hollow. Excavations (by which I mean Curly hacked at the wall with his adamantine sword) proved him to be right as the stones caved into a smaller chamber that contained only four large chests the opening of which was left to the magic users as, as good as I am, I couldn’t unlock the dweomers upon them.

Inside we found an interesting collection of magical pieces (including some pearls that Grim started playing around with only for him to drop one and it explode at his feet – muppet!), a load of potions, some money and, possibly more important than all, a ledger that made no sense. The items that it listed were nowhere to be found and the items we’d found weren’t listed. Muffin and Grim are under the impression that a spell’s been cast on it to hide its true contents but they won’t be able to reverse it until tomorrow.

With nothing else for it we headed back to Zeech’s Regret and, after hiding Curly away from the unwashed masses, wiled away the hours listening to rumours of Lashonna’s and Zeech’s possible affair whilst trying to keep Grim from singing a song he’s made up about us and our exploits. It’s not the content of the song that bothers me... it’s just he sings like a hog on heat.

Earthday 6th Goodmonth 595

Muffin called us all into his room before breakfast, a move that particularly annoyed the dwarves. He had good reason though – he’d deciphered the text in the book: a list of names. He said, as he was busily scribbling them down, that it appeared to be a list of members of the Triad or at the very least, associates of theirs. There were a number of names we recognised, most we didn’t, but the ones we did all seemed to have lines crossed through them (which in and of itself is a bit odd since the book was hidden in a secret room at the site of an abandoned church that hadn’t been disturbed for the better part of a few decades. Guess we’re not the only ones who can teleport): Lightboobs, Theldrick, Faceless One, Ilthane. None of the other numerous names were familiar to us. The name at the very top of the list simply read “Mother Maggot”. More than likely a code name... or the actual name of a really big worm.

With a book full of names, yet no clues, we set off out to do Muffin’s favourite pastime – shop. The look on his face was one of sheer joy and delight as he fawned his way through retailer after retailer, thumbing all the materials and asking about cuts and styles. I ended up giving him a hundred gold and telling him to get me something nice (which in retrospect might not have been such a great idea – I’ll probably end up looking like a mini version of him.

We left Muffin to it and decided to go and speak to the Kordites. On the way there we spotted a number of disturbing things; a man selling a rat to a child who then proceeded to eat it; a woman shooing away birds from a dogs carcass before greedily dragging it away; and perhaps worst of all a puppet show telling the story of a man, whose wife had been killed by wolves, infiltrating the pack by wearing a wolf skin and slicing open the leaders gut after which all its victims poured out of the wound, including his wife. You might ask why I think that this would be particularly disturbing, and by itself it isn’t; it’s more the fact that Curly has taken this as a sign. That he is the man, Zeechy is the wolf and he is donning his enemies garb in order to infiltrate his world before killing him and releasing all those that suffer under his cruel regime. Fantastic!

Curly, being brutally honest as has been his wont of late, managed to get us an audience with the High Priest of Kord by stating who he was. Whether he was impressed with his honesty or simply wanted to speak to the dumbest man in the city, High Priest Lanthus Chax bid us welcome. He seemed like quite a nice guy, even told us we could get free healing anytime we needed it. We asked about his plans to disrupt the prince’s celebrations and he denied he had any. He said he would never go against the prince as he’s seen first-hand what happens to those who do. Rhorsk had preached the word of St Cuthbert and the prince had ordered him and his congregation slaughtered. Chax has survived by keeping a low profile and only metting out help in small quantities. Many has been the time, he spoke, that he’s thought about leaving the city for good but there were too many needy people for him to desert.

Before we left, Chax advised us not to offend the prince, not if we valued our lives. Any offence would be dealt with by the Blessed Angels, specially trained demons known as Erinyes, although he did offer that he couldn’t be sure that the Angels would retaliate if the prince himself was killed (a comment I believe he was aiming directly at Curly). In regards to the party itself he only said that there would be those there who might ally themselves against the prince but they might just as quickly turn us in as traitors. He only knew of a few people going to the ball, one of which was the Public Prosecutor of Alhaster, Maris Kemp. We showed him the list of names but the only one he recognised was Ilthane.

We took the opportunity to ask about what he would recommend as a present but all he said was that Zeechy loves anything extravagant or unusual. As an example he told us about some of his servants, who he had bought from Ratty, that had various deformities: one had no legs, another was a woman covered in hair (he’s going to love Sheheit then). We asked if he thought us presenting Zeechy with a magic item from us as a group was a good idea and he said that it would be about as good as any.

With that wonderful endorsement ringing in our ears, we left and headed back to our residence, bumping into Muffin, who was loaded up with bags and an enormous smile, on the way.

Thank you very much Mistral. It's nice to know people are enjoying it and all the comments keep me going.

In regards to the HLF: just tell me where to sign! We'll wrest the power back from the Lankies: soon they'll lie prostrate at our feet looking up at us!!! Bwahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!

Moonday 3rd Goodmonth 595

We arrived at Alhaster just before opening time (a plan Grim had had ever since he picked the camp site last night me thinks), having spent a good thirty minutes persuading Curly that it would be of extreme benefit to our investigations and ultimate victory over the prophecy of the Agew of Worms if he didn’t flaunt his symbol of Hieroneous about a city of Hextorites.

We arrived at the gates and I have to say that I’m not all that impressed with their choice of guards: Hobgoblins! Seriously, talk about your typical meatheads. These knuckle-brained idiots had the cheek to demand a hundred gold off us in order to get past them. I told them they could stick it and they threatened us with what they called the “Blessed Angels”. I mocked them for being the only gate guards in the entire world who needed to run to mommy to sort out six travellers and the whole situation seemed to be going the way of fisticuffs (I think the only time myself and Curly have seen eye to eye about anything other than neither one of us wants to share a room with Grim after an all day session) when Grim threw the guards ten gold and marched us all into the city.

The city itself was in the process of being decorated with all kinds of banners and bunting. Sneeze stopped a passer-by and asked what was going on. Apparently we’ve turned up a week before the twentieth anniversary of Zeechy’s ascension to the throne. He’s throwing a gala for all of the “people of note” in the city on the eve of the new moon.

Curly then dived straight into asking about where the temple of St Cuthbert was. The peasant we’d accosted seemed to snicker before saying that the rubble of the temple, which he warned us not to be seen near, was right next to the church of Kord the high priest of which was, according to rumours, planning to disrupt the prince’s celebrations.

Muffin, bless his elven lack of common sense, then enquires as to why a city run by Hextorites hadn’t completely squashed the church of Kord, a question that Curly decided he’d like to answer diplomatically:

“Because Kord is a god of honour and battle who’s followers are warriors of great skill and courage where as Hextor is a whinging, petulant child who’s followers are cowardly bullies who will only engage in conflict if the odds are overwhelmingly in their favour and it seems an entire city against one church isn’t quite enough of an advantage for them.”

After this impressive tirade of abuse, the peasant mumbled some sort of goodbye before rapidly distancing himself from the crazy, and evidently suicidal, foreigners; an action that I was seriously considering imitating.

It was also at this point that Grim suggested that we use different names but was soon distracted by the smell of hops. Fortunately Grim’s nose led us to the church of Kord (admittedly via the Tipsy Nymph brewery) and also allowed us to view some of the sights of the city. The largest, and most significant, sight was a partially constructed ziggurat which already bore a more than passing resemblance to the one at Kuluth-Mar thanks to the spire atop it. Another passer-by informed us that the prince had ordered it made at great expense and had even knocked down houses of some nobles in order to make space for it. Sheheit thinks that it’ll be completed in a couple of months which means, if my guess is right, that in a couple of months Zeechy is going to kill the populous in order to attain deific status.

With that thought running, or, in Curly’s case, ambling, through our minds, we continued on. The church of Kord was a fairly small building that had a few people working outside it. Not knowing whether we’d be meeting friend or foe we skirted around it and found ourselves looking on the skeleton of the temple of St Cuthbert. The stained glass windows were melted and the roof had collapsed but the four walls still stood and a door still bared the entrance.

With the warning of the first local guide still fresh, I decided that it’d be best if I snuck across first to see if it would be worth the others risking it. Beyond the door the damage wasn’t as bad as I’d expected: there was rubble on the floor but other than the roof, the place seemed fairly intact. I there was something odd about the place that I couldn’t put my finger on it until I noticed a particular pile of rubble had been moved. After a brief investigation I found a trap door in the floor.

I ushered the others across and let my meat-shields open the door which opened on some stairs at the bottom of which was a small mausoleum. Twelve tombs lay desecrated around a central hall whose walls were pitted with a number of tunnels that Grim was convinced were made by repeated castings of a spell to reshape stone.

It was at this point that I heard some moaning coming from one of the tunnels at the top of a pile of rubble. I moved up and huddling in the shadows was something that looked like the thing (and I use the word “thing” used in the loosest possible terms) that Grim left with after the Feral Dog’s annual week long drink-a-thon last year: it was a ghoul that was wearing the ceremonial garbs of a priest of St Cuthbert. I tried to use myself as bait (a plan that the others were all too happy to agree to) to try and draw it out into the open but it wasn’t biting – well not initially anyway. First it started to mumble some incantations. A rainbow coloured spray (what in Hanseath’s grand barrel of ale is it with all these rainbow spray spells that every creature has suddenly started casting? What happened to the good old days when the only colour we ever had spraying over us was the glistening red of the blood spurting from the wounds we inflicted on our foes?) washed over us but nothing seemed to happen.

Myself, Sheheit and Curly set about scrambling up the rock and hewing into it. It futiley tried to slash us with its claws but its vain attempts at slaughtering us were quickly ended by Grim who, unable to defy gravity and get his mass up the rubble, cast a searing beam of light which nearly obliterated the creature.

We searched the tombs but there was nothing left. With the others either being too tall, too wide or too hermaphroditical to fit easily down the tunnels, it was left to myself to investigate them. I have to be honest I enjoyed the time alone, brief as it was. It reminded me of when I’d first left my village with nothing but my wiles (and a small dagger) to keep me safe.

The tunnels, rather boringly, all opened into different parts of the sewers. I relayed this message to the others and it was decided that we could use this as a hideout if necessary and it would probably be best if we found a place through the sewers that was less exposed than the temple ruins to use as our entrance.

After squeezing through the tunnels and moaning about the smell, Muffin said that, according to his calculations, the entrance above should lead us out somewhere near the docks. We looked to Grim and Sheheit for confirmation but they simply shrugged (so much for the legendary underground navigation skills of the dwarves). We suck out and indeed found ourselves coming out into an alleyway leading towards the docks. The alley itself was next to a building that bore the name “Haoffs Solutions: Mercenaries for Hire” (not sure what other types of mercenaries there are). We would have investigated Hoff but it seemed like too much hassle.

Along the docks themselves we could see a crowd gathered around something I hadn’t ever seen before: a set of gallows. Before we realised it might be a bad idea, we wandered over. No sooner had we arrived than Curly was busy asking what the three people being escorted up were being charged with. Fortunately for us it turned out that they had been members of the Ebon Triad who were to be executed and their bodies to be hung out on display at Traitors Grave. We watched as the proclamation was made and the lever was pulled but left before the bodies had stopped twitching. Sneeze, who had obviously no stomach for such macabre things, had busied himself by asking one of the crowd how they had been caught (apparently it was an anonymous tip) before pressing the tomato hurling commoner about Lashonna, the “Scourge of the Triad”. To my complete surprise he informed us that she wasn’t dead and in fact lived just up the street on an estate called ‘Mistwall Manor’.

We arrived at Mistwall manor (which was surprisingly close to the graveyard) only to be informed by the upperty gate guard that “Mistress” Lashonna would be able to see us and the next available appointment would be in two months. He suggested that if we wanted to speak to her sooner, then we might have a chance at the upcoming gala that the prince was throwing. He said that we might be able to score an invite if we spoke to a man called Armlin Rloratia who would be at the Deluxery, a high-class casino and brothel. Some of the nobles had declined to come to the party and he’d been given the job of making sure the spare seats were taken up by the right sort of people (Hanseath knows how we’re going to get one then – I can’t imagine five more unlikely candidates then my compatriots: a man so slow that when his body moves it takes his mind ten seconds to realise it’s gone, a dwarf who after half the night will have drunk so much ale that the room will be emptied by the noxious gas he’ll be issuing from both ends, a te-totaller who’s conversation could put a rutting rhino to sleep; another dwarf so unisexual that even other dwarves don’t know whether to fight it or chat it up and an elf).

Anyway, we left a message with the guy on the gate just in case the “Mistress” should find a spot in her diary for the wolf whackers; the swarm slappers; the grick gankers the owlbear owners; the wind-duke whippers; the kenku killers; the grimlock gutters; the lizrdman lickers; the hobgoblin hammerers; the worg wasters; the troll trouncers; the chimera chrushers; the doppelganger dominators; the mind-flayer maulers; the drow destroyers; the octopin obliterators; the vrock vanquishers; the tiefling thrashers; the ulgurstasta un-animators; the inevitable eradicators; the elemental eliminators; the xorn zappers; the giant gorers; the demon destroyers! Yes ladies and gentlemen, for once the rumours are true! It’s Filge’s final foes; the naga nemeses; Raknians renders; Ilthane’s eviscerators! The tyranny of the Ebon Triad! The worlds only hope against the fulfilment of the prophecy of the Age of Worms! My prince may I present to you the Feral Dog’s finest; the diamonds of Diamond Lake; the saviours of the Free City themselves - Deree’s Daring Dynamos!!!!!!! (pause for rapturous applause).

Sorry. That did seem a bit over-the-top but after seeing the invite (which we got after I had to vouch for the rest of my group (Yup, Armless saw straight away that I was the leader of this rag-tag gang and took me to one side and said that if any of them caused a fuss at the party, I would be the one to pay – something I’m not completely happy with)) and the activities on it I thought it might be best to get in some practice bigging up our many, many conquests... combative conquests that is – probably not enough time for all my other conquests...

I came back with the invite and explained the etiquette and consequences for any breeches of it (namely my neck): dress nice, no weapons, bring a gift worth at least two thousand gp for the prince.

Curly’s face was a picture until we explained that the last event wasn’t in fact men rodgering other men from the rear, but rather a contest to see who could tell the story of daring feats they had achieved the most impressively.

We managed to tear Grim away from his letching at the expensive living ornaments that were tyring to fleece him less subtly than the gate guards and made towards the exit. On the way out I spotted some people I recognised. At first I couldn’t place them and it was only when Sneeze muttered that he hadn’t seen a place so decadent since the Emporium in Dimond Lake that it hit me: that was where I’d seen them. A few minutes of “umming” and “arring” and “no, that doesn’t sound right” and we eventually managed to get their names: Professor Montague Marat and a quogoth called Shag Solomon.

Anyway, Tiddles and Ratty didn’t spot us... or if they did they didn’t recognise us... or if they did they didn’t acknowledge us... or if they did we didn’t see it (probably the latter... how could you not see, remember or acknowledge me?) so we booked ourselves into an inn called “Zeech’s Regret” which had more than its fair share of drunken rumour merchants in. The main rumour that was being bandied about was that the black dragon that resided on the island of Traitors Grave had been killed and that its treasure had been left unguarded (although one of the drunks said that some of his friends had gone to see and hadn’t come back). Either way it’s something to look at when we go there tomorrow: I think we should talk to the corpses of the three Ebon Triad members and see exactly what their business is in the city.

Godsday 4th Goodmonth 595

Turns out that the Island of Traitors Grave isn’t really an islad... well, not all the time. At low tide you can walk to it from certain points outside the city. Unfortunately for us it wasn’t low tide. Fortunately for us Grim was able to cast a spell that let us walk on water so without even having time to let our breakfast (or in Grim’s case, breakfasts) settle, we found ourselves walking through a mosquito infested bog heading towards three yard arms where the corpses of the three Triad members hung as a warning to all ships passing along the Eel river towards Alhaster. The mosquitoes seemed particularly fond of Grim for some reason... must have been the smell.

Muffin, Sneeze and Curly spent most of last night devising questions we could ask the traitors whilst Grim was either trying to convert Sheheit to Hanseath or get him/her to bed and once and for all settle our bet of whether he/she was a he, a she or a he-she. I think he might have got in with him/her but he passed out before the deed could be sealed. Once again I found myself lugging him up the stairs of an inn. It was at this all too familiar point that I changed my mind about being the one to take the responsibility for eneryones actions at the party – now I’m thinking that this is the perfect opportunity to find out once and for all whether they remain loyal to me or are plotting against me. If they can restrain themselves at the party it would go a long way to restoring the trust I once had in them. If not then my belief will be confirmed although that may be somewhat of a Pyrrhic victory since I’ll probably be taken away and executed.

We managed to make it to the corpse display and Grim rather morbidly cast a spell to speak with them. It was fairly useful and the questions that the three nerds, I do apologise; two nerds and the dead weight came up with weren’t half bad, although they did need some editing. Here’s what we asked and what we found out:

Q. Were you a member of the Ebon Triad?
A. Yes

Q. Who is the leader of the Ebon Triad in Alhaster?
A. Don’t know

Q. Where is the Ebon Triads base of operations in Alhaster?
A. The Sinners Sanctum

Q. What is the purpose of the ziggurat being built in Alahster?
A. Don’t know

Q. Is Zeechy an ally of the Ebon Triad?
A. No

Q. Tell us all you know about Barricade?
A. Who’s Barricade?

Q. Are there any Triad spies in the church of Kord?
A. Don’t know

Q. What street in Alahaster is the Sinners Sanctum on?
A. Arena Street

Q. What are the Triads plans in the Alhaster?
A. Waiting for the manifestation of their overgod

So I guess our next stop will be the Sinners Sanctum on Arena Street.

Just as the questioning of the dead had finished I noticed something weird in the river. Shadows were flitting around and bubbles started to form on the surface. I warned the others and made ready for battle, a move that proved unnecessary as four small black dragons (well, small for dragons anyway. Pretty big for fish) appeared waving the proverbial white flag. They said they had a proposition for us. About two months ago their sire, Ilthane, had gone missing (oops!) and they had been left to fend for themselves off fish from the river. Before she had left, their mother had been conducting experiments and one day one of these experiments had broken free and driven them out of their lair. They said that if we could kill this abomination then we could help ourselves to their mother’s treasure.

After talking about it we agreed and began quizzing them about this creature. They said it could breathe acid like they could and stood on all fours like a dragon but that’s where the similarities ended. Acid seemed to drip from its entire body and it had tendrils that could whip out with blinding speed. They also said that when they went to claw at it sometimes their blows would pass straight through it. They seemed to quake as they described its head: a mass of human and draconic skulls that writhed around like snakes in a bag.

Muffin said it sounded like some kind of undead creature but none that he’d ever heard of.

With a bit of a shrug we agreed to the deal that the baby black dragons would no doubt renege on and they promptly led us to their lair which turned out to be behind a set of hefty stone doors followed by a thirty foot drop. After Muffin and Grim had cast some spells to speed us up and help us out we descended into the noxious pit that was Grims bedro... that was the creature’s lair. Acid corrosion was everywhere, even the rock walls were stained white in places. In the corner there was a bubbling oily pool which started to stir into life. Out rose a monstrosity much like the dragons had described.

Immediately we charged the creature and tried to swarm around it but it was too agile. It managed to evade our trap and shift into a position where it could breathe on us. I managed to avoid the stream of acid but inhaled the poisonous gas. As I did I felt some of my strength leave me but it wasn’t enough to slow me down. We managed to trap the creature in the corner and a cone of fire burst above our heads, striking at the creature. Unfortunately for us, Muffin’s continuing run of uselessness looked like it would enter its fourth month without missing a beat as it passed harmlessly through the abomination. The rest of set about it like real men/unisexual bipeds by hacking it to death with swords. It tried one last swan song, lashing out at us all with its tendrils but it barely had the energy to finish its sweeping attack before it oozed out of existence.

With Muffin and Grim’s protection spells still fully in operation, and deciding that fighting dragons inside a confined area would be a tad easier than fighting them in the open air, we called down Ilthane’s offspring.

They seemed to survey our work before unleashing their breath weapons upon us. We cursed their sudden but inevitable betrayal as the acid harmlessly washed over us. We set about swatting the overgrown moths and the fight was over so quickly I barely had time to taunt them about the fact that we’d slain their mother.

We scouted around the “treasure trove” but unfortunately the acid creature had destroyed a lot of it. All we found was a bit of cash and jewellery and three vials (although Muffin did say that the liquid inside the vials radiated strong magic).

As we were leaving I glanced once more at the dragons and the words “people of note” sprung into my mind. I got Grim to hack off their heads and Sheheit to pull out their claws whilst I set about skinning them – not sure if the heads are worth two thousand gold, but they’ll certainly get people talking as we parade through town with them, the claws will make an interesting conversation starter at the braggery and the skins, although not tough enough to be effective as armour, will certainly make striking cloaks to wear to the prince’s ball.

The heads did the trick with the guards as they gawked at us as we passed them and people in the street did start muttering as we travelled along. We decided to stop at Mistwall Manor to see if Whupa was at home. A different gate guard told us that she was away on business and would be back just in time for Zeechy’s shindig.

Resigned to the fact that we weren’t going to meet her, we headed to “Alextradis’ Boudois” where , in exchange for any excess dragon skin, he agreed to make us each a cloak. We then went to the rather more lamely names “Jewellery by Jim” who agreed to make us each a dragon claw necklace in exchange for money.

As we were meandering back to the inn where we would discuss our next move, we were accosted by a gang of hobgoblins. I say accosted: one of them, who had a dire-boar on a lead and a raven on his shoulder and introduced himself as B’Kruss, stopped us and said that he’d been looking for us (which is another thing to brag about cos personally, I’ve never heard of him and he’s obviously heard of us).

Well Crusty, apparently the leader of the Knights of Red Hand started asking all sorts of questions about where we’re from and what we’ve done and then promptly interrupted us to tell us about his “feats” of bravery. Apparently Crusty once jumped a thirty foot cavern to get to a dragon that was busy hiding from him. Personally I’m guessing that the dragon, what with it’s heightened sense of smell, was merely trying not to get within sniffing distance of the foul smelling furball.

Anyway he then challenges us to a manly jumping competition. Personally I’d have preferred to just drop our pants and get it over with there and then, or at least pee up the wall – either of those would have been quicker, but Sneeze decided to take him up on it. So there we are, in the middle of the street with two “grown men” stripping down to their unmentionables before heading off to the rooftop to jump across an alley with us at the bottom cheering and jeering. Sneeze gave it his best shot but, having not spent his life bounding around, he only just made it and had to catch on to the side of the building and drag himself up whereas the challenger, who unsurprisingly was able to jump like the offspring of a gambol, made it across with ease. Who’d have thought it? A man comes up to and challenges you to something and it turns out he’s really good at that thing!

With their group cheering and mocking one of them challenged us to a horse riding competition. Grim countered with a drinking competition but all of them declined and wandered off into the city gloating. Grim had to, once again, settle for having a drinking competition against the only man that can offer any kind of resistance: himself.

Starday 22nd Reaping 595

We were going to set off today but Manzy offered to teleport us about a days travel from Alhaster so people decided to try and sell our well-gotten gains and spend the profits so it looks like we’re stuck here for a week.

Sunday 23rd – Freeday 28th Reaping 595

Spent most of this time helping Curly read a book we’d found. He was trying to do it all by himself but he struggled with some of the big words... bless him.

Starday 1st Goodmonth 595

Manzy gave us a final checklist before he sent us miles away from where he said he would. I’m guessing he hadn’t noticed that myself and Grim are slightly on the short side since he expected us to walk sixty miles in one day. I’m going to assume that he was basing our journey off how fast Sneeze walks (which is pretty impressive)... either that or he’s a complete tool!

Anyway, the to-do list he gave us for when we got to Alhaster wasn’t really his to-do list; it was Barricades. Apparently Barricade was going to try and find the following things out so Manzy advised that we start with them:

1. Find out if the Ebon Triad was still operating there (apparently Barricade thought that Alhaster was some sort of recruitment and training centre for the cult)
2. Locate Lashonna (if alive – again I’m guessing not), a woman who stood against the Triad, or see if she left anything behind that might help
3. Don’t let Curly speak to any of the locals

Ok so that last one’s mine but I still think it’s worth putting on the list.

Right, so after that talk and being teleported “a day’s walk” away from Alhaster, we travelled through the most boring terrain ever. All there was were plains as far as the eye can see.

Muffin thinks we’ve entered the Bandit Kingdom. I’m not so sure – I didn’t see a welcome sign.

Sunday 2nd Goodmonth 595

Now the terrain isn’t just boring, it’s also wet. It’s raining sphinxs and worgs. I hate the bandit kingdom. It blows ghosts!

Ok so the Bandit Kingdom has livened up a bit. There we were just listening to Muffin moan about the rain (an impressive tirade that had lasted a good solid hour) when there was a sound that was reminiscent of when Grim sat on one of the non-reinforced chairs at the Feral Dog accompanied by a voice in each of our heads which issued an ominous warning:

“You will die for what you have done!”

I was wondering which of Sneeze’s many anecdotes warranted such a threat when two figures whose size was only matched by their hideous looks.

I was given no time to see if that was the only thing they and Grim had in common as he sped off and started to attack the four armed (although two of them looked like they’d been plucked of a small girl suffering from birdy-arm syndrome), two clawed one (later identified as a Glabrezu).

Sneeze then grabbed hold of Curly and Sheheit and disappeared only to reappear behind the beast. I seethed over this latest show of the groups conspiracy against me but tried not to give them the satisfaction of showing it. I decided to join them attacking the Glabrezu, leaving Muffin to whatever fate may throw at him, much like he did to me in Icosial’s tomb.

The other warthog faced, winged creature (apparently a Nalfeshnee) pointed at Muffin and oinked the word “Stun”. Muffin duly obliged by standing stock-still, which is, admittedly, more useful than what he normally does.

I swiped at the legs of the demon as Curly and Sheheit did likewise. All was looking well for the warriors formally known as Deree’s Daring Dynamos but out of (literally nowhere appeared four humanoid demons one behind each of the three most dangerous of us and one behind Sneeze. Grim turned and touched the acid soaked skin of one of the horned beasts and it instantly disappeared. Sheheit refocused her energies on our latest foe hammering and chopping into the nearest, what we later found out were, Babau only to have her weapons both start to sizzle as the acid started to corrode them.

It was at this point that the Nalfeshnee waved its hands and sent a spray of colour over us all. As it struck me I found myself looking over my childhood village from afar. Suddenly I was in the town centre. All the villagers were there working. I spotted my parents behind their vegetable stall. I ran to them but as I approached them, the sky turned black. The clouds overhead gathered together and a bolt of lightning struck the ground in front of me. The ground began to stir, not rumble or shake, but stir. I looked down to see a mass of Kyuss worms start to burrow up from the dirt. I looked back up to my parents only to find myself looking into their now dead and rotting eyes, both of them infested. I tried to scream but my mouth was gagged with a mass of the green maggots.

Suddenly I felt a hairy hand on my shoulder and the nightmare ended. I was back on the trail to Alhaster and the battle was still in the balance. I steadied myself and focussed the mixture of terror and anger onto the nearest Babau, slaughtering it in a whirl of blades.

Meanwhile Curly and Sneeze had been laying waste to the Glabrezu which fell under their combined attacks. As one the others (apart from Muffin who was still standing with a gormless look on his face) turned their attention to the Nalfeshnee who swiped at them as they approached. Just as I thought it was going to slap the treachery out of them it looked to the skies and raised its hands. With a pop another Glabrezu appeared between me and the rest of the group. The Nalfeshnee once again waved its hands and a cloak of darkness wrapped itself around each of the demons.

Unperturbed, I opened up a volley of attacks on the creature only for the black cloak to solidify and block my attacks. As my blade clashed against the energy it shot up my weapon and wrapped around my hand. All my energy started to drain and I found myself barely able to life my weapons.

The Glabrezu then pointed one claw at Curly and Sheheit and the other at Sneeze and Grim. All four of them began floating up into the air before stopping some thirty feet above the heads of the demons. Sneeze was the first to react as he activated his magical flight and flew himself and Grim out of the zone of reversed gravity. Curly swiftly followed with Sheheit.

Whilst Sneeze and Grim attacked the Glabrezu, the other two hewed into the Nalfeshnee killing it with a series of massive blows before turning their attention to the remaining Babau. It was at this point that Muffin came back to reality (or as close to reality as he ever gets) and sent a cone of ice into the chest of the Glabrezu. Grim approached the beast and, muttering a prayer under his breath, threw a mug of ale onto it. The Glabrezu seemed unimpressed but a moment later disappeared with a parting message that forced itself into all our heads:

“When you meet my master, you will die!”

Grim, who is either remaining loyal to his religious brother or is doing a better job of hiding his betrayal than the others, put his hands on my and I felt my strength return. We moved on towards our destination but decided to lick our wounds before entering the city of burglars and murderers and set up camp a few miles outside the city.

Tis true. Mustn't have put their levelled characters up.

Review of the rest of the party:

Gorram (aka Curly), LG Human Male Paladin 6 / Fist of Raziel 7

Dalgunn Stouthammer (aka Sheheit), female Dwarf(Hill)
Fighter 8/Tempest 5

Gimgrim Irontwister (aka Grim)
Male Dwarf - Chaotic Neutral
Warrior Priest of Hanseath (Dwarven God of War and Drinking)
Cleric 10th/Fighter 2nd

T'Shan (aka Sneeze) LV13 Monk LN

Salanor, (aka Muffin) Wizard 6/Stormcaster 6 Chaotic Neutral

Any queries, let me know.

Waterday 19th Reaping 595

I did not want to get up this morning. I guess the night’s exertions took more out of me than I anticipated. Still when I did get up I felt... different. Something had changed both internally and externally. Another scar had appeared, this time on my neck. Fortunately it was low enough that my hastily made scarf covered it up. I tried to choke down some breakfast but Grim did do his best to put me off – not on purpose – he just had the beer farts – he’d been up all night drinking and praying.

Grim’s night of frivolity paid off as Hanseath granted him the power to bring Curly back from completely mentally stunted to only partially mentally stunted. Curly naturally wanted to go back in and have the creature return him to a vegetable but we persuaded him that it’d be better to try and take out some of the other dangers first and then come back and have the beast return him to a vegetable.

With Curly suitably confused, we moved to the room opposite the green room. Storming the door we were greeted by three of the wormcallers who seemed to be protecting a fountain that was, somewhat worryingly, spewing fresh, clean water.

Sneeze charged in first and looked for all intents and purposes that he was going to pummel all three into pieces smaller than Curly’s brain, or Grim’s self-restraint, or Muffin’s humility, or Sheheit’s personality. However as he got near he seemed to become distracted and diverted his movement away from the creatures and towards the fountain where he proceeded to stick his head under the flowing water and take a big gulp.

Now normally I’d be a bit scathing about the lack of intelligence it would need in order for someone to decide to take a drink break in the middle of a combat in what looked like a shrine to Kyuss in the centre of his head-quarters, however as I approached I felt an overwhelming urge to do the same thing. I rushed to the fountain and scooped as much of the water into my mouth as possible. Now, unsurprisingly, the water didn’t taste quite as delicious and refreshing as it looked, although it did have a very familiar tang to it. The delicious, disgusting flavour and texture of the Kyuss worms filled my palette. At any other point the feeling would have been the most welcome sensation and I almost found myself revelling in this unique dining experience, but the sight of Sneeze spitting out the “water” brought me back to the reality of the situation. I couldn’t imbibe this nectar, not with everyone watching. That would confirm what they probably already suspect! With a force of will that took all my energies I spat the worms from my mouth and turned my frustration on the three wormcallers.

It was at the point that myself and Sneeze had just regained our composure that Grim decided to unleash a pillar of flame into the room. Fortunately our reactions were a lot quicker than his spell-casting and we managed to avoid the tornado of fire, which is more than can be said for our enemies. The pillar engulfed them all with the vengeful fury of Hanseath... the much good it did us! No sooner had the heat dissipated than they all took a sip from the fountain and miraculously all their wounds were healed. Now I’m not really an expert but for someone who says he’s a god of death destruction and carrion, this Kyuss bloke does a whole lot of healing... not that it did them much good once Curly and Muffin finally decided to enter the fray. Soon worm infested heads were flying (not mine I hasten to add) and the room was clear of anything that was remotely infested ... was almost clear of anything remotely infested had been slain.

As the last one fell, another vision blurred into my mind. It started with a birds-eye view of Kuluth-Mar only empty. The streets were devoid of human life. The vision sped us to the Spire where all the citizens had gathered. Suddenly a black energy began to gather and form around the tower and an instant later burst out. As the energy passed over the populous of the city each person fell in a domino sequence of death. As each body hit the floor something (their essence? Their souls?) escaped their physical shell and was absorbed into the black monolith atop the spire. As each soul was taken an image began to appear: a human figure composed of countless worms. The image grew and grew until it was the size of the spire itself. Once fully formed, the image seemed to raise its arms in triumph but in the next instant Kyuss’ face turned to fury with tears of worms falling from his ungodly face. The wormy figure swirled as it began to be sucked into the monolith along with the other souls. The rush of wind died suddenly and all was quiet, but not for long. Slowly, like dominos righting themselves, the bodies of the fallen started to rise but now were infested with the green Kyuss worms.

The image faded and we were back in the fountain room, which was, sadly, a dead end so we headed back to the large worm filled room of (most likely) death. This prediction had further confirmation when Curly proclaimed that he could sense evil coming from the pit. That’s right: from the pit... the pit filled with iddy-biddy Kyuss worms. Sometimes I’m jealous of the insight his god gives him in these situations. I mean I could never have guessed that there might be evil eminating from the pit of iddy-biddy Kyuss worms.

Once more astounded at the depths of Curly’s logic it almost slipped me by that on the opposite side of the room two more wormcallers appeared and, without pausing, walked straight into the pool disappearing under the writhing mass only to appear a few minutes later moving into the darkness along the corridor they originated from. We retreated to formulate a plan. We resisted Curly’s “make a jump for it” strategy and opted for the “haste ourselves and dimension door over there” strategy. It worked quit well. We managed to take the undead by surprise (not that you could tell from their faces; they remained pretty much the same) and I (of course being the quickest, smartest and bravest of us) managed to pen them in to the end of the corridor which was blocked on the other side by a hefty set of double doors.

Unfortunately the undead became unsurprised rather quickly one sending down an immediately horrific pillar of flame (horrific for the others; I of course simply dodged out the way) and the other issuing a less immediately horrific command of “Come”. Behind us the writhing mass started to bulge and an instant later out burst a worm that made the Ulgurstasta look like... well, it made the Uldurstasta look like a pretty big worm but not as big as it once appeared cos this one was bigger, hence making the Ulgurstasta appear smaller by comparison.

Anyway the ‘even bigger than the Ulgurstasta’ worm reared up and snapped down, grabbing Grim in its mouth (told you it was big – I mean the Ulgurstatsa only managed to grab and swallow little me but this thing managed to get its chomps all the way around Grim’s gravity producing girth). A split-second later the worms jaw snapped shut as Grim teleported himself back into the midst of the battle with the wormcallers just as one fell under the weight of my explosive barrage of attacks.

The enormous worm, obviously realising that Grim was a bit too much for it to handle in one sitting, struck out again but this time focussed on Curly, who, in what later turned out to be a pretty gutsy and impressive feat of combat tactics but which at first appeared to be (and still might have been caused by) an act of utter idiocy and pant-stained inaction, did nothing. And by nothing I mean nothing until the last split second when he slashed his sword across the gapping maw of the beast, al blow that extended its smile from where its ear should have been to where its other ear should have been. At the same time Muffin unleashed one of his rays of fire right into the belly of the beast sending it crashing into the sea of worms dead.

Meanwhile Sneeze and I were doing our best to deal with the final wormcaller, a task that became infinitely easier when Sneeze whipped the legs from underneath it sending it prostrate on the floor allowing us to hack it to death like dwarves round a boar on a spit.

We eyed the doors and assessed our injuries and with the warning of the stupidifying naga ringing in our ears we retreated and set up camp once more.

Earthday 20th Reaping 595

Pestered Muffin about the complete grey blankness of his room on a rope and enquired about the possibility of decorating. He didn’t seem very enthused by the idea. Still a night without wormy dreams has done me the world of good.

We decided to leave the room of naga-scare until a bit later and headed east (the giant worm didn’t come back to bite us in the... well, all over). Beyond the door on this side was a room that had a huge bed atop a plush, green carpet and surrounded by stools (weird but I guess even evil deific priests can be voyeurs). The walls of the chamber had carvings of a duel world. The underworld was a maze of tunnels filled with worms and humans dressed as worms all trying to burst through to the upper world which was being ravaged by all sorts of creatures (including dragons) with worm heads. The other three walls had single doors leading off.

We began our search of this room (I started under the bed – if I were a kinky evil priest attempting to gain godhood that’s where I’d hide my stash of porn) but we’d barely even peeked under the valance when the three doors opened. Behind each stood what looked like Kyuss Knights but they all appeared to have a uniqueness about them.

Sneeze and I teamed up on the one to the north (we’ve been doing that a lot lately; seems to have been working too – haven’t died in a while and he hasn’t tried to kill me or any of the others as far as I know (although there was that time he knocked out Salty). Maybe he can be trusted... or maybe he’s playing it smart. Time will tell I suppose) and managed to flank it. As I closed in on it, it became clear that it was covered in an aura of shadow. This wasn’t so scary until the shadow started acting independently of the body and attacked me. Its actual body busied itself laying into Sneeze with its sword and eyes (honestly, why?) whilst its shadow lashed out a black tendril like arm at me. As the shadow struck I suddenly found myself transported into, what would be to most people a nightmare but for me, a dream-like state where I was being buried alive in Kyuss worms. These blokes had obviously not done their homework. I mean if you’re going to try and terrify someone don’t do with something akin to their wildest dreams. Would you try and scare Grim by threatening to drown him in a keg of ale?

The images distracted me only briefly before I was back in the room and continued the melee partnership I’d formed with Sneeze. The others were fairing just as well as we were. Curly had been slashed to ribbons and bitten by the eyes of his one which once again gave his eyes a glossy hue and Sheheit was slashing wildly at his/hers but every time his/her weapon came into contact with the knight it turned to mist and passed almost harmlessly through it.

Curly, glazed eyes and all, summoned up what was left of his strength and swung a massive blow at his foe. There was almost a glow of holy power outlining his form and suddenly focussing at the edge of his blade as it impacted with the Kyuss Knight. The creature staggered under the weight of the strike and wobbled as if drunk before inevitably it carried on attacking. As the creature moved in to finish off our holy (or by then, holey) warrior it was all Curly could do to raise his blade up one more time, impaling the creature as it approached for the kill. As the knight breathed his last (well, not exactly “breathed”. Undead don’t tend to breathe as a rule. It’s what makes them impossible to beat in a game of duck apple), it disappeared in a puff of shadowy mist.

Curly turned with a triumphant grin and stepped, what he’d later testify was a selfless act of heroism, but what we all know to have been a complete act of Curlyness (yup, a man so stupid he gets his own adjective), straight into a sweeping shot aimed at Sheheit. He fell to the floor into a puddle of his own blood.

Myself and Sneeze set about our own Kyuss Knight with renewed vigour. It was only a matter of moments before it fell beneath our combined fury (and by “combined fury” I mean that he played pat-a-cake with it whilst I did all the hard graft). As it fell Grim, understanding that beer is a cure for all ills, whispered a prayer over his mug and threw the contents onto Curlys face. Not sure if it was the prayer or the smell but either way it did the trick and Curly managed to shake off the worst of his wounds just in time to see Muffin unleash a bolt of fire into the chest of the third, final and now properly dead knight.

As Grim healed people up we searched the rooms that our latest enemies had appeared from but there was nothing. Pretty high levels of security for nothing... maybe these were the extra participants in Kyuss’ after-dark activities.

Either way that left us with only one way. We made our way to the southern door and whatever was beyond. That turned out to be another ill-informed undead. The Harbinger (as six-armed freaky lich introduced itself) seemed to be under the impression that we want to bring about the Age of Worms. He even offered to help us bring it about!!! Come on! I mean I know that we quite often go stumbling into fights with no clue as to what we’re fighting or how to defeat it but I don’t think we’ve ever read the situation that badly!

We looked at each other in a stunned silence knowing that we had two options:
1. Fall about laughing
2. Attack and kill

Personally I was all for option one but Curly took the decision out of my hands by going for option two. He charged the creature as Muffin and Grim combined blasts of force and fire at it. As Curly neared the creature flicked one of its wrists and suddenly eight of it were standing there. Curly swung wildly but each time it swiped harmlessly through an image, dispersing it. Myself, Sneeze and Sheheit rushed in after Curly just as the creature unleashed a multicoloured wave over us. Other than opening up a small wound on Sneeze, the rainbow seemed not to have any affect. Between us we managed to take out all of the images and I managed to land the first blow onto the creature itself. The others soon joined in the fun and within moments we had the creature on the back foot. In an attempt to nullify the creature’s innate magical abilities, Grim cast a spell of silence on me. Sadly this stroke of genius didn’t seem to affect the Harbinger as it unleashed another rainbow spray. The silence did affect me which was probably a good thing as Grim wouldn’t have been able to hear the tirade of abuse I hurled at him – well that and the fact that he’d been turned to stone. Muffin was also babbling in the corner of the room. At first I couldn’t tell the difference between that and him casting one of his ineffectual spells but then he started walking in circles.

I focussed back on to the Harbinger but Curly was focussing the swell of holy power once more and with a flash of attacks brought the undead its final death. Instantly the ground started to shake but I had no time to worry. Muffin was the only person who could turn Grim back to flesh; Grim was only one who could bring Muffin back to relative sanity; I had a potion that would allow one of them to try and shake off the affect. With that knowledge (and the fact that it’s really hard to force-feed a statue anything) I jumped on Muffin and rammed the potion down his throat. Nothing! Still crazier than normal! Sheheit and Sneeze seeing that Muffin hadn’t the strength to fight it with only one potion followed my lead and forced their potions down his throat as well. After the third one had settled on his stomach, Muffin came round.

Meanwhile the ground stopped shaking with a huge cracking and thudding sound. We gathered up the items left by the dead undead and left the room. The lake of worms had gone and had been replaced by a simple lake. Unsure what to make of this turn of events we retreated to Muffin’s grey room on a rope (we left Grim at the bottom – he’s even heavier as a statue than as a dwarf if you can imagine that).

Freeday 21st Reaping 595

We all had a weird dream last night (even Grim. I wouldn’t have thought statues would have dreams but apparently they do; something we found out once Muffin made him flesh again). We dreamt of all the visions we’d had along with the prophecies; worm-eaten dead rising; a demonic tree; a burning comet; a shadow covered city; a maniacal man attaching a claw to a bloody stump; a city built on a volcano (dumb ass architects) being destroyed. These were followed by whispering voices speaking of the prophecies we’d stopped; the joining of three spirits into one and the hero of the pit turning a city undead. As we woke we glanced nervously at one other. We each knew that we now had to see this to the end, whatever that end might be.

Silently we left the spire to discover the source of the thudding; the cactus shaped tower had fallen from its perch atop the ziggurat and smashed through the obsidian wall. This set the alarm bells ringing in Curly’s head (about time something was in there); he had the horrible feeling that the protective magic preventing the evil from escaping the city would be destroyed along with the wall. Muffin confirmed that suspicion with a simple spell. Sadly this sent Curly on one of his pious rants about not letting any evil escape and how we needed to go back in and finish off the naga (his piety didn’t quite extend to the angels of certain death but no-one was daft enough to point out his slight hypocrisy).

Eyes rolling, we made our way back to the library (although it was pointed out that we hadn’t found anything about Barricade and that there could be a chance that the naga had gathered it up) and burst in to find an empty room (not exactly empty just sans naga). Undeterred by this, Sneeze bolted into the room and started sprinting up and down like a dog chasing a cat with a bone covered in gravy.

The tactic paid off as he rebounded off something big and invisible which immediately shot a ray of energy. As the ray blasted into Sneeze the naga appeared and the rest of us charged in trying desperately trying to avoid its stupidifying gaze. Sadly we all failed and all found ourselves locking eyes with the snake. I felt the Curly affect wash over me but managed to steel my mind against it. Sadly the same cannot be said for Sheheit. As he/she ran in and attacked the glaze covered her eyes returning her/him to his/her baser instincts. Fortunately for the rest of us, his/her baser instincts was to maim and kill.

With Grim creating a wall of blades across it and the rest of us pinning it in the corner it wasn’t long before it fell under our averted gaze attacks (not that we attacked with our averted gazes; we averted our gazes and attacked). Muffin set about the books like he was a dog chasing a cat with a bone covered in gravy that was taunting it. Unfortunately it turned out that there was no information regarding Barricade. There was a magical book which enhanced the readers’ health.

Feeling more than a little frustrated we left the building and headed off to the jungle where we arrived and sent a message to Manzy to fetch us back to his, although he’s taking his sweet time about it... even Curly’s gotten board with chasing butterflies.

I’m not sure I like Manzy all that much. Whilst we’ve been going insane and getting turned to stone, this so-called powerful mage with his mate the high priest of the god of knowledge have been sitting on their combined arses researching the prophecies... yup the prophecies. The very same prophecies that we already know about... the same ones we had that dream about, you know the one we had after we’d killed the harbinger. Useless goit!

He had taken time out of his “How to be less than useless” seminar to have a look into Barricade’s notes. Manzy thinks that Barricade has gone to a place called Alhaster, a hive of scum and villainy run by pirates and brigands and ultimately ruled by a despot known as Prince Zeech. The city is the capital of the bandit kingdom of Red Hand. Manzy and Agrump were still unsure whether Barricade was alive or not (I’m thinking not) but if that was the place of his final demise then all his latest notes would be there.

So I guess it’s off to this haven for thieves run by a cruel dictator to look for the notes of a probably dead madman with a holy warrior of Heironeous, the god of chivalry, justice and honour... what could go wrong?

How about an update on the class/levels for the other characters, just to fill in the blanks? You did an old version in the 'Tell Me About Your Party Composition' thread.

Will pester the others for there's - not sure off the top of my head. In the meantime here's the latest of the diary - apologies for the delay.

I have no secrets... Shame yes, secrets no.

Deree's a bit of a class whore it has to be said. I just found myself wanting him to have stuff so entered different classes and then something new and shiny would come along and i wanted that was well.

Here goes:

Level 13
Rogue 4
Fighter 1
Barbarian 1
Whisperknife 2
Wormhunter 5

If you want any more details let me know.

Thank you again for reading.

Godsday 18th Reaping 595

Our new plan to defeat the anti-angels and their best buddy is going well so far however I do feel attrition by avoidance may not be the most expedient way of disposing of them.

We decided to take a more measured approach to our assault on the ziggurat. We decided to scry the room opposite where the angels lay (or hovered) and so Muffin created an invisible eye in the room. This revealed four creatures; three we identified as Swords of Kyuss – strong, skeletal soldiers that slash acid with their swords and that could produce balls of negative energy that could blast the living and heal the dead – and one that was crouched onto the ground and covered in a ripped cloak we were unable to identify at that time.

We got suited, booted and magicked and stormed the room. As we did the creature on the floor unfurled itself to reveal another skeletal creature crawling with worms (a wormcaller). It screamed its awakening as we tore into it and its friends.

Our preparation seemed to be paying off as the wormcaller fell beneath the combined force of my weapons and Sneeze’s fists and Curly, Sheheit and a now enlarged Grim started putting their not inconsiderable weight into the other three.

Our massacre was halted briefly as two of the Swords unleashed their balls of negative energy. Myself and Sneeze managed to avoid them completely but the rest felt the full force (they could’ve hardly missed Grim. It’d be harder to hit the ziggurat than him). I have to admit that part of me was glad to see that wave of darkness encompass them all. It would give them a taste of the blackness that I’m forced to fend off in my soul every waking minute.

My brief moment of satisfaction was ended as the wormcrawler, buoyed by the surges of negative energy, started to rise once more. I sprung up and hacked into it once more. I struck with blow after blow, utilising Muffin’s speed spell to its fullest, until the creature was in more pieces than Salty was when she finally realised that I wasn’t interested.

By this time the others had dispatched its bodyguards but even as we stood there panting, the room took on that oily sheen and another vision appeared. This one showed Kyuss sitting at a desk with a grey-skinned, six armed humanoid standing behind him. They both seemed to be studying some metal discs with some kind of writing on them. The grey creature reached one of its arms over the shoulder of the then priest and pointed a finger at one of them. A sudden look of comprehension washed over the man as the image disappeared.

As the room came back to the present, the dusty desk and shelves of books came into view along with a shelf of more interesting objects: twelve vials of liquid each with a single green worm in. Etched into the side of each was some writing which Muffin helpfully identified as old Flanae and equally unhelpfully told us he didn’t understand. In front of this was a podium on which sat a closed book. On the front of the book was embossed the outline of a human head with a worm inside that seemed to be whispering.

The book itself was also written in old Flanae but it was helpfully illustrated. It indicated that if you swallowed one of the worms it would impart to you some ancient knowledge. It seemed different to the ritual detailed in the Apostolic scrolls as it didn’t appear as though you needed to trade your soul for this knowledge. That said, I’m still debating who got the best of that deal. Every time I feel the positive energy flow through me and into the soul-less minions of the would-be bringer of the Age of Worms I think... No! I know that I got the best of the deal. But every time the despair and anger takes me over and another scar appears I know the price was way too high.

Curly was all for destroying them and the book and for once I found myself agreeing with him. Even if the price for simple knowledge is less than the one I’m paying, I know it would be too much for any of the others to bear. Muffin convinced the rest to leave them for the time-being until we could translate the etchings and find out exactly what knowledge we could obtain from them or, in fact, if they were worth any money.

As we left the room we debated about going back to the angels and trying to finish them off, afterall, there would surely be another vision which might give us an insight into what Kyuss was like before he ascended. The debate was short-lived when we remembered the nature of the room. I don’t think any of us were particularly interested in seeing Kyuss torture someone or something (unless it was Tramp-face – then I might be able to stomach it... as long as I had some kind of snack and drink).

That decided we went to the only place (well four places to be exact) that was left to investigate: the stairs up into the spire. Well that was our initial idea until we discovered that Kyuss was some kind of distant relation of the Wind-dukes. The stairs led to, yup, nothing! That’s right, nothing! Blank stone walls and not a secret door to be found. All I can say is at least he didn’t just have door, after door, after door leading nowhere. He did have the decency just to put a big old plain wall blocking the way. That in my book brings him one step closer to not all evil. Ok so destruction of the entire world is pretty bad but at least he’s not going to frustrate us to death. It does however, pose the question of how in the name of Hanseath did he get into that spire? Or perhaps the spire has some other purpose? Was the spire the focus for whatever spell or deed that Kyuss had to perform in order to be elevated to the gods? Either way, I’d like to take a peek inside the spire at some stage. I mean if it was the focus that enabled an arrogant, evil, twisted, egotistical, little twerp like Kyuss become a god, imagine what it could do for me! I mean people already worship me (just look at Salty). What would they do if I was elevated above this mortal coil? Maybe that sounds above my station and possibly it is... for now.

Anyway, that’s for the future, back to the then and there. This left us with two options: leave and let the Age of Worms come upon us or overcome our nausea and brave the pit. The first was impossible, the second merely unpalatable so down the hole we went, assisted by Muffins fall like a feather spell (which he actually included me in this time, unlike in the tomb of Icosial – and I got to see the distance that I fell without it. Grim was the one who told me as the tunnel narrowed. I’m amazed I survived it. It made me half wish that the spell would fail so the others would feel a little of what I felt; see how many of them had the will to survive it).

Anyway, the journey down revealed more than the extent of Muffin’s betrayal. All along the walls were caves that were, apart frm some crumbling edges, perfectly circular. I didn’t see it myself but Sneeze said he spotted something big and wormy lurking in the shadow of one of the caves.

We neared the bottom of the pit and it opened out into a room the floor of which was crawling with more Kyuss worms than I thought I’d ever see. Sneeze, Sheheit and Grim grabbed onto the wall (a move I copied as a simple deception) as Curly activated his boots and grabbed onto Muffin. It pained me to watch as Curly held him above the room and Muffin sent wave after wave of spell onto the carpet of my simultaneous pleasure and pain.

If they hadn’t been destroying my elixir, the sight might have been amusing what with Curly floating like a chromatic butterfly and Muffin stinging like an anaemic bee but I couldn’t help but lament the loss.

Ok so I’m no longer lamenting that loss. There’s so many of them. I couldn’t believe what I saw. They’re right there, calling me, begging me, imploring me, seducing me. Their call is that of the siren; promising all my wildest dreams yet delivering only pain, misery and despair. Why can’t I resist? Why can’t I muster the strength to destroy them? Why do I feel that burning desire to damn everything I’ve worked to attain just for that one taste of glorious pain? Why did I choose this path? To defeat thy enemy you must know thy enemy? I can’t help feeling that that excuse is wearing thin. Even I’m starting to doubt that I made my choice for that and that alone. No! The truth is I want the power! My boast of attaining divinity earlier was not arrogance or vanity; it is my desire and destiny. IT IS MY WILL!

What in the nine hells is wrong with me? When did I become such a... well, Muffin? Seriously, what I wrote before wasn’t me, wasn’t what I really feel. Yes I would do and will do anything it takes to put a stop to Kyuss and his plans but everything else was a bit melodramatic. I may be good, but a divine being I’m not!

Muffin destroyed the swarm of worms that covered the floor in the room and the rest of us floated to the floor. The room had three exits: double doors barred two of them and a sickly green glow issued from the third.

We headed to a set to the south and what lay behind filled me with more emotion than I ever thought possible. The doors opened to reveal a cavernous room with exits to the south and east that barely registered. Covering the floor was a mass of Kyuss worms the like of which I never thought existed. My fear that I wouldn’t be able to find more of these ecstasy inducing little creatures was banished from my mind forevermore along with the hope that I might recover from my addiction. With the knowledge that such a mass of these worms exists I accept that I will never truly be rid of them. Now I must live with that knowledge.

It was only when Grim put a hand on my shoulder that I released the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. The others were leaving the room and heading towards the green glow. With a heavy but relieved heart I followed.

Inside the green room lay six bodies. Initially we all prepared ourselves for their animation but our paranoia, this time, was unwarranted. The bodies remained in the state they’d been in for the past who knows how long. The green glow had a familiar feel to it and Muffin soon confirmed what I knew to be true – this room had a spell to slow the decay of the deceased, just like the one imbued into the potion that is keeping my now not so precious worm alive. For some reason Kyuss is keeping these bodies preserved. Does he intend to inhabit one of them if he returns to the world?

The green room led onto a not so green room. It was an exact replica of the precious room only the green preserving effect had worn off. The six bodies had decayed into nothing but bone. The only other exit out of this room was a set of double doors behind which Sneeze said he heard a hissing sound (personally I think it was just Grim letting out a sly one but Sneeze was insistent) . With weapons ready we flung open the doors to discover what looked like the remnants of another library. Books had been piled into what looked like a nest in which sat a gigantic worm that had a human face (kinda like Tramp-face). It seemed to shake its green hair and, just as Curly was about to charge, spoke.
“Are you here to free me?”

I know we’re meant to be heroes but rescue wasn’t on any of our minds but the fact that it could talk threw us momentarily. Curly recovered first and growling vehemently that the creature was evil, started to charge. He got about half way across the room before he met the creatures gaze and stopped, dropped his sword and started gibbering.

Figuring he’d either mislaid his favourite teddy-bear or the creature had cast some kind of effect on him, I thought it would be best to get him out of there quickly. I managed to initiate negotiations with the creature as the others negotiate with the creature. All it wanted was to be teleported out of the temple and beyond the obsidian wall and in exchange for that it would give us all his possessions (which turned out to be the books it was sitting on). I asked for a good-will gesture and it offered some information on the caverns.

It said that to the east there was a host of undead and across the sea of worms nested a huge and very dangerous creature. It said that neither it nor any of its kind would venture there and advised us to leave well alone.

That small piece of information garnered I told it that we would talk on its proposal further and come back to it with our decision tomorrow. It seemed quite happy with this as, apparently, the days merge into one another after such a lengthy captivity.

With the doors firmly shut we enquired as to Curly’s state. Grim said that the creature had lowered Curly’s mental capacity to such a level that he was barely able to breath and move. Not understanding the difference between this and his normal state I enquired again as to what was wrong. Grim said that without a powerful spell, Curly would never function properly again (because of course he functioned properly before this happened...). As to whether Hanseath would grant Grim such a spell he could not say. He said that he would pray (and by pray I of course mean drink) all night and hope that he was deemed worthy (and by worthy I of course mean drunk) by our deity. With that we settled in for the night in the depths of the domain of Kyuss.

I write this now hastily before I sleep so that my account is not dulled by the passage of even one night’s rest.

I had to do it. I couldn’t resist. I didn’t want to resist. They called to me and I answered without hesitation and with a regret that was consumed by desire. Grim had finally passed out and I was alone on watch with only my thoughts to keep me company. But in a place like this there was only one thought. I deserted my post and crept to the writhing mass of worms. With the awe inspiring sight of them transfixing me, I only noticed when the vial touched my lips that I’d taken out the worm from my haversack. I paused briefly then for no more reason than to savour the moment. I swallowed and the glorious rapture of pain overcame me. It was more intense than I’d previously experienced and it was all I could do not to scream out.

The pain level rose and did not stop until the blackness of unconsciousness took me away from it. I was fortunate that nothing had disturbed the others from their slumber and that it wasn’t too long past the time I was due to hand over to Sneeze.

Thank you for your comments Smarnil. They are very much appreciated. Personally i'm amazed people read my diary and only hope that those who are continue to enjoy it.

We made our way down the sides of the valley and into the crumbled city. The noise from the jungle seemed softened by more than just the distance we were at as sound itself was wary of entering this place.

As we approached the black wall it became apparent that there were markings carved in to its sides. These markings glowed with what looked like an intense heat yet the black stone (Grim identified as obsidian) felt cool to the touch. Muffin said that the carvings read “Kyuss forever bound” in draconic and were repeated until they covered the entire, what seemed to be, solid wall. Muffin then, in an act of supreme stupidity of which we’ve come to expect, cast a magic detection on the wall. After he woke up with a blinding headache he desperately deserved, he confirmed that it was, indeed, magical. In fact, it was the most powerful magic he’d ever come across. Why is he with us again? I’m pretty sure even Curly could have worked out that magic that was created to bind a god-like creature was going to be pretty powerful stuff.

I used Icosial’s sword to fly up and get a better look around but there wasn’t much to see. Crumbled buildings surrounded the Ziggurat and one huge boulder lay behind it. At first I thought this might be the missing part of the tower but it didn’t seem the right shape.

The others decided to climb over the wall so I landed on the other side. As I passed over the wall, a wave of nausea washed over me and an intense pain stabbed me in the back of my head. Once over the wall both left. Curly, of all people, spotted me wincing and asked if I was ok. My brain must have still been addled from the pain as I found myself telling the truth. He asked if I was still carrying the worms we’d found in the chest under the arena in the Free City. I got my last remaining vial out as proof and froze. The worm inside had crumbled. There were only tiny fragments remaining. It took all my resolve not to verbalise my panic in a scream. Curly muttered that that must have been why which at least gave me an explanation for what had happened but that was very cold comfort.

Moonday 17th Reaping 595

Sasserine’s a bit of a weird city. I mean it’s divided up into sections and there’s an island in the middle of it. They’ve also got an arena but it’s nowhere near as big as the one in the Free City. All the people seem to have a chip in their shoulder as well. For instance we happened to, almost literally(Grim had only been up a couple of hours so hadn’t quite got his ale legs back in equilibrium), bump into this group of misfits, one of whom took right offence. She was a right snotty grimlock of a human and kind of reminded me of Muffin when he’s being polite. When Grim told her as much one of her mates, a goliath of all people, came and joined what was rapidly turning into a frey. I was about to bring the ginokasaurus down to my level when another of their companions interjected himself. It was this young, scruffy lad who looked like he’d been dragged up on the streets that managed to, almost miraculously calm things down and get everyone on their merry way.

Ok so a lot happened yesterday which I haven’t had a chance to write about yet, mainly due to an illness that befell me. I think the medical term is “petrification”, but to us laymen, I was turned to stone. Despite this minor inconvenience however, yesterday turned out to end on an upbeat note from my perspective; not sure how the others would have viewed it if they knew why.

I’d calmed down a bit even before my miraculous recovery from being stoned (and not the good kind of being stoned) – partly due to one thing, but mostly due to another.

The first thing was a vision that appeared as we approached the ziggurat. The air seemed to take on an oily quality which rippled over the entire structure on which moving images appeared. It showed a man seated on a throne on top of the ziggurat. He was wearing ornate, black plate armour and was wearing a circlet on his head. The spire above flashed with bright lights and at its top balanced a huge, black, wedged shaped monolith. As the image expanded, it showed the city in its glory days; the houses were new and what little of the streets we could see under the bustling throng of people were paved in white stone. It seemed the entire populace had gathered around the ziggurat to pay homage to their champion. They chanted as one a single word over and over again:

“Kyuss! Kyuss! Kyuss!”

This vision of my truest enemy brought me from my despair and refocused my mind. Having looked into the eyes of my nemesis I realised that nothing, not even the loss of
my elixir, would stop me doing all I could to end his existence once and for all.

The ziggurat had three sets of steps; one led to the top where the base of the spire stood, the other two led into the ziggurat itself. We decided to venture to the base of the spire. As we approached we were greeted by another vision.

In this vision the peak of the spire was restored and something within the wedge shaped monolith was writhing. As the image expanded, an old red dragon swooped in and, with the thunderous sound of crumbling rock, seized the monolith in its massive claws and flew off to the north, its spoils clutched in its talons.

It seems that the dragons must have had some kind of war or feud going on with Kyuss what with destroying his place of power and constructing a wall of solid obsidian runed to the hilt with wardings.

Anyway, there were no entrances into the spire or the ziggurat from the top so we climbed all the way back down and entered through one of the stepped arches. This opened out in a small, empty room with a set of double at the end of a small corridor doors opposite the steps. Listening at the doors all we could hear was the faint sound of dripping.

The doors scrapped open, pushing dust and rubble aside on their way, to reveal a large hall the most striking feature of which was the huge hole that had crumbled at its centre. The ceiling was held up by pillars around the rooms edge (the ones near the centre had collapsed along with the floor).

We entered the room and approached the pit. Well, all of us bar Muffin who stayed by the doors in order to zap anything that came out. Unfortunately the things that needed zapping, and the second, and main source of my relief, came from behind.

The first we knew of them was the maddening clicking noise they issued as they charged down the corridor. Muffin, deafened into inaction, had the fortune that they were so big that the beetles could only come down the corridor one at a time. One of them tore into him with its claws and mandibles whilst the other two, who’d waited in the room, parted to reveal a skeletal figure wearing armour and carrying a huge sword.

I used Icosial’s sword again and flew in to attack. The others, apart from Curly (who must be used to mindless, repetitive noise going on in his head) succumbed to the attack and did nothing but clutch their hands to their ears.

As I approached I couldn’t help but stop (it was lucky the beetles gave me an excuse); oozing out of the beetle through every orifice (and some they’d made themselves) were Kyuss worms. Beautiful, fat, green Kyuss worms! It was all I could do to stop myself running over and gorging myself on their sumptuous, gooey, evil goodness. It took the sudden disappearance of the chittering (Grim had come to his senses and cast a silence spell over them) to bring me, and everyone else, back to our senses.

Muffin moved away, casting a ball of lightning as he did. The Knight of Kyuss seemed unfazed but the beetles silently skittered in pain. With that, the beetle moved back to allow space for the knight to enter. It headed straight for Curly (it must have sensed his innate naivety... I mean goodness) and attacked him with his sword and eyes... yup... eyes! What a lame weapon! I mean I thought Sneeze using his fists was bad enough but using your eyes to attack someone... that just smacks of desperation. Admittedly the eyes were, in fact, worms with really sharp teeth but still, you get that close to someone just head-butt them; especially if you’re wearing a helmet.

Anyway one of the eyes managed to take a chunk out of Curly’s cheek and the glaze that normally covers his eyes glossed over a little more (Grim would later inform us that they take away peoples’ ability to think which would eventually render someone unconscious. I guess Grim knew this as he regularly ingests things that take away your ability to think and eventually render you unconscious). The creature had chosen the wrong target though; Curly’s used to doing things without the ability to think and this minor inconvenience did nothing to stop him from swiping it with blow after blow after blow which eventually felled the creature. The beetle behind approached and received the same treatment, this time from Sheheit.

It was at this stage that Grim decided he’d enter the fray. He barged past Curly and Sheheit and charged straight into the next oncoming beetle. This meeting of titans could have been one of the most epic struggles ever witnessed. Dwarf vs beast. Drunk vs insect. It could have been, but it wasn’t. They floored each other faster than Grim normally quaffs a tankard of ale.

The remaining beetle barged his way over the corpse of his friend and the bleeding body of Grim (a feat in itself considering the corridor wasn’t all that high) only to be met by a barrage of steel from the still active members of the group that felled it almost instantly.

It was at this point I showed more control than I thought possible. I didn’t immediately run to the corpses, to my most precious and pressing of needs. I waited. I managed to wait until they were all looking over the corpse of the Knight of Kyuss before I slipped one of those worms into my vial of gentle repose. I felt like absorbing it there and then but it was too dangerous. The others would have seen the immediate effects and then they’d know, then they’d know. I must keep this a secret in order that I can attain hell for him, attain hell for him.

My most pressing concern taken care of, I decided we should check out the hole but as we approached a wave of evil pounded us with such force that even Grim felt nauseous and couldn’t get anywhere near it.

Leaving that for the moment, we investigated the room. Four sets of stairs were leading up and two more sets of double-doors were set on either side of the room along with one on the opposite side that we came in which led to the other entrance to the ziggurat.

In a decision that shall go down as the worst one I’ve ever made (well apart from the time I took Grim on in a drinking contest... or the time that I asked Sneeze what was on his mind... or the time I asked Muffin what he was reading... or the time I tried to explain the rules of “pitch and toss” to Curly)... Ok... In a decision that shall go down as the fifth worst decision I’ve ever made, we went to the door on the left. We opened it up to discover a room glowing in a sickly green light that shone through the thick glass like walls. Hanging from the ceiling and walls were a gruesome collection of tools and equipment that could only have one possible use – torture.

It was a screech from above that was our only warning for the oncoming attack. Three creatures were flying in the air. Two of them looked like angels with flaming swords for arms and the third looked like an Eladrin (I was semi-reliably informed by Muffin that they were two Sword-Archons and a Ghaele Eladrin) but each looked... not quite right. It was as if the taint of this place had infused into their very core and deformed them. The angels had dark eyes and were screaming manically and the eladrin’s grin was chilling, unlike the pillar of flame it sent down on us. I managed to dive out of the ay but the others didn’t recover as quickly as myself and were caught in the spell.

With the Dynamos on the back foot, Sneeze and Sheheit slammed the doors and Grim created a stone wall to block them, a tactic designed to gain us time to regroup but unfortunately the demonic angels had other ideas. They appeared in mid-air above us, still issuing that terrifying scream. Almost as one, myself, Curly and Sneeze activated our flight and went to meet the challenge. The last thing I remember is a bright flash of multicoloured light coming from one of the angels eyes.

I awoke still swinging my sword (which near took off Grim’s beard) in a magic emporium I didn’t recognise. A little confused and more than a little relieved, I let Grim tell me what I’d missed. After listening to about half an hour of slurred words, chin wiping and tears on my shoulder along with cries of “I thought I’d lost you little buddy” (about the only seven words I understood the entire time), I let Muffin recount.

Apparently the ray that the angel had shot at us had turned myself and Sneeze to stone and had turned Sheheit insane. Muffin, somewhat strangely you might think, found this to be a very fortunate turn of events as it meant that myself and Sneeze were no longer animate, he had the magical capability to teleport everyone out as we were then considered baggage and not people. With Sneeze safely in Grims bulky arms and me precariously in Muffins stringy appendages, he transported us all to the part of the jungle that Manzy had first sent us to.

It was then that Sheheit’s insanity came to light as she/he started to swing his/her axe at everyone and everything. Not having the power to bring her round from it, Muffin was forced to hide everyone in his room on a rope until the next day. It was then that they decided that they needed to get back to some kind of civilisation and get their leader back to full strength (i.e. back to being flesh and blood) so that some proper decisions could be made. Unfortunately the nearest civilisation turned out to be Sasserine. A big enough city, you might think, for one of my companions to know of something, someone or somewhere in the city for Grim to scry on, but no! That would have been a useful thing to know which of course excludes any of my companions. They did come up with a novel way round it. It turns out that Grim only needs to know the name of a person in order to scry on them so he decided to scry on John Smith, resident of Sasserine and voila, there appeared a bloke in the middle of a field of cows at the bottom of his tankard (admitedly not the first time that Grim’s seen visions at the bottom of a mug but it is the first that other people could see with him). A few seconds later and bam! There they were ankle deep in mud and the only thing to come off a cow that Grim won’t eat. I would have given anything to have seen that farmers face when an obese dwarf, and anorexic elf and a guy wearing full plate armour carrying some very life-like statues of a handsome halfling and a man wearing a frock and sporting a mullet suddenly appeared in the field.

You might have noticed that there was one absentee in this throng. Yup! They left Sheheit ranting, raving and hacking in the trees (they figured that the lion would have to bow down to a new king/queen of the jungle). Their plan was to go back later and cure him/her when they’d picked up the means with which to do so. Personally I’m not sure I’d have been able to tell the difference between an insane axe wielding dwarf and whatever the spell had made of him/her.

Anyway, they managed to walk into the city and, despite being covered in who knows what kind of dirt, managed to get into the city and get served in the emporium. After a quick stop in one of the local taverns, Grim scried out Sheheit (who was busy singlehandedly trying to set up a trade route between Kuluth-Mar and who knows where) and before you could say “rampaging androgynous dwarf on a maniacal killing spree using both of his/her axes” we were back in that humid mass of trees planning on how to kick some angel ass.

Thanks Bran. Glad to hear that you're still enjoying it. Hope i can live upto the start.

Thanks again

Earthday 13th – Freeday 14th Reaping 595

I spent these two days mulling over the betrayal and conspiracy as well as doing a little shopping. It turns out that Magepoint has more to offer than its size suggests. There were a number of magic item emporiums and I was able to get a pretty good deal on a protection amulet and some potions.

Muffin the betrayer spent most of his time in the local temple which, as it’s a temple to Boccob, doubles as a library which is run by the head-librarian Agath. Oh yeah; he’s also a priest. Grim the betrayer spent his time getting drunk; Sneeze the betrayer spent his time not getting drunk; Curly the betrayer spent his time wondering how to get drunk; and Sheheit the betrayer spent his/her time trying to stop Grim pinching his/her posterior whilst he was drunk.

Starday 15th Reaping 595

Legless and Moony came to see us today. Turns out Manzy’s back and he wants to meet us straight away so we can get on with saving the world from a wormy doom. Oh wait. Sorry! That’s what you’d think would happen, but no. They came to see us as Manzy’s back and wants to see us tomorrow...around noon. Apparently the destruction of life as we know it isn’t a good enough reason to shuffle a few things around to fit into your schedule the one group of people who are trying to do something about it. I guess now I can see where Tramp-face gets it from.

They did tell us how to get to his castle though... they said we should walk. That’s astounding! I never would have thought of that. You know what? Until they said that I was going to make a swim for it. Why am I surrounded by useless ingrates whose brains I know are functioning only by the fact that they’re constantly coming up with new ways to either kill me or annoy the worms out of me?

Sunday 16th Reaping 595

Was it worth the wait? Well the world didn’t end so I guess it wasn’t all bad. Manzy has been a bit more useful than his pupils although as archmages go I have to say I was a little disappointed with his level of knowledge. I was impressed, however, by his collection of magic paraphernalia. More on that later.

Taking the advice of Leglees, we used the radical mode of transport known as “walking” to get across the causeway and into Manzy’s castle. When we got there we were ushered into a study adorned with landscape paintings of all manner of scenes that seemed to span the entire world. Behind a desk at the end sat a surprisingly young looking man (considering how bad Legless and Tramp-face look) Legless introduced as Manzy and a slightly younger but infinitely more grumpy looking man he introduced as Agath, the librarian-priest who’d had enough spare time to waste that he’d brought Legless back to life.

Before we started, Manzy clapped his hands and ordered the rapidly appearing servant to fetch some refreshments. In moments he returned with a tray load of food in one hand and 3 pitchers in the other. One was filled with wine, one with ale and one with water. It was at this point that Sneeze offered one of his truly insightful comments:

“Wine without alcohol is useless”

Confucius must be quaking in his boots with this level of competition.

The information we got from Manzy seemed to take a long time to tell but not say huge amounts that we didn’t already know.

The gist of it goes that the Age of Worms is an ancient prophecy foretelling the end of the world. There are apparently many such “prophecies” most of which are worth paying attention to about as much as anything Grim says after midday. However this prophecy seems to have more to it by the fact that several of its predictions have come to pass:

The rise of worm-ridden undead
The cleansing of an evil taint from a city besieged in the past by giants (obviously referring to our journeys in the Titan city)
The arrival of a “Fane of Scales” he believes to be the Black dragon we put down
The recovery of potent artefacts from ancient tombs (our finding the rod part in Icosial’s tomb)
The destructive manifestation of an immense demonic tree in a distant city across the sea
The ruin of a city built in a bowl in the spire’s shadow (which he believes refers to the near destruction of Cauldron, a city built inside a dormant volcano (can I at this point just give two thumbs up to the genius who looked at a volcano and thought “You know what; this would make a great place to build a city”))

He also mentioned two prophecies that had not been fulfilled: the unification of a tripartite spirit and the gift of a city of undead by a hero of the pit. These obviously refer about our dealings with the Ebon Triad and Lightboobs in the Free City.

Looking at it we’ve stopped two of the prophecies coming true but we’ve also had a part in making two of them come true. We cleansed the taint from a giant city and we’ve retrieved an artefact from an ancient tomb. So at the moment, if my maths is correct, we’ve done as much to help the Age of Worms come as we’ve done to stop it. Not particularly the average I was shooting for when we started.

Manzy had only been able to find out a little about Kyuss. He’d been a very powerful priest who’d ascended to godhood. He ruled a city named Kuluth-Mar which is located far to the south near where the city of Cauldron had been. He also said that Kyuss had had a penchant for creating undead, something he’s clearly not grown out of.

After that he said almost the least surprising thing ever: although he didn’t know much more, he knew someone who did... Are you kidding me? First Tramp-face doesn’t know anything so he sends us to see Legless. His only knowledge was of how to die although he did say his master knew more but didn’t know where to find him. Then Tramp-face told us where to find this guy, a supposed wise and intelligent arch-mage and now he tells us he knows virtually diddly-squat but he promises that a mate of his knows everything.

Ah well at least he knows where this mate of his is... or so you’d think! No! In fact, he doesn’t even know if he’s alive or not (Curly asked whether the high priest of the god of knowledge could ask his al knowing god. Agrump said he had but his god didn’t know. He’s obviously lying. I’m pretty sure he’s just out of favour with his god, probably for bringing Legless back to life. It’s a shame he feels it’s less embarrassing to say that the god of all knowledge doesn’t know something rather than admit his god thinks he’s a complete tool). Well that’s just great! He could tell us where he’d been as this guy, Balakarde who apparently has an unhealthy obsession with all things Kyuss, had left him some of his notes.

I say notes, more like next to useless scrawling of a mad-man. They outlined briefly his trip to Kuluth-Mar and his venture in to the ziggurat that Kyuss had ruled the city from on top of which stood the Spire of Long Shadows. He wrote that this was where the magical focus of the ritual of ascension to godhood. He finished by saying that the majority of Kyuss’ power had left the city but there were still powerful undead servants that had remained there. Although he’d visited the city on many occasions, he’d never been into the spire itself.

The last time he and Manzy had met Barricade had said that he was going to follow a lead to the north, but that was all. Manzy believes this lead can be found in Kuluth-Mar and that that should be our next port of call. He did then offer to be useful: he said he could transport us there using a powerful spell and one of his paintings but before we left he had a proposition for us: he wanted to do a trade – our piece of the rod we’d found in Icosial’s tomb for a number of magical items from his vault. He said that he knew of a few people who would like to get their hands on it for the wrong reasons, including the pit-fiend we’d encountered. Oh he knew all about that! He even claimed to be the one who dismissed it when it attacked us. This then begged the question of if he’s so powerful, why on earth doesn’t he just stop the prophecy being fulfilled himself. His answer: he had too many enemies who might, if they found out of his involvement, make an effort to side with Kyuss, making the whole thing more complicated.

He summoned his servant again who brought the items for us to gawp at. After much “umming” and “arring” (and “what’s going oning” from Curly), we decided that the rod would be safer with Manzy, we’d be safer without it and the items would be more useful to us.

With little delay we equipped ourselves of our new items and followed Manzy to one of his paintings. He explained that each of the paintings in the room was of a location where something of great import had happened and that they allowed him to more accurately teleport to that location. This particular one showed a jungle landscape surrounding a valley in the centre of which stood a ziggurat with what looked like a giant cactus sticking out of the top: the Spire of Long Shadows.

With a few more words of arcane might, we were there. It was like we’d just stepped into the picture. The first thing that struck me was the noise of the place. Unseen animals and birds squawked and roared from the undergrowth. And the heat! I started sweating like Grim at a wine-tasting.

Godsday 4th Richfest 595

Went to see Tak, Lavender and the Feral Dog last night to see how they’d faired during the dragon attack. The door was hanging off one hinge; rubble was strewn everywhere; broken bits of furniture spread across the blood-stained, splintered floor. It was good to see that at least one building had got away unscathed. Lavender too was in surprisingly good spirits. Apparently Tak has put him to work pulling carts filled with rubble.

The others convinced me that I’d better come along with them to the Free City, what with all the trouble we’d gotten into last time we visited. Grudgingly I agreed. I had been looking forward to some quality time away from them but if I stayed here the way I’m feeling now then they’d get back and find myself dancing a long, merry Jig on Tramp-face’s cold, cold badly mutilated corpse.

Waterday 5th Richfest – Earthday 6th Reaping 595

Ok I have to admit that the journey there, the brief stop and the Journey back wasn’t that bad. I’d forgotten how civilised (and I do use the term loosely where Grim is concerned) we could all be when we’re not being screwed over by Tramp-face or sword deep in giant worms. I enjoyed myself that much that I even bought Grim a present (which caused all sorts of problems when Muffin asked why no-one had got him anything for his birthday which had been on the 5th Richfest – the day after the two full moons. Kinda sums Muffin up – arrives just after the really significant event has happened). It was a mug that keeps refilling itself with dwarven ale. I thought it was the least I could do since he did buy me my rosewood travel writing desk.

After a mercifully brief and uneventful stay in the city we made our way back to Diamond Lake to see if Tramp-face had managed to garner anymore about the Age of Worms.

Freeday 7th Reaping 595

It was just as Grim was struggling to climb out of the dog pit (someone thought it’d be funny to convince Grim that that was where Tak kept the finest ale... Ok, I thought it’d be funny to convince Grim that that was where Tak kept the finest ale... I was right. The hilarity of him tumbling down was only equalled by his screams of dismay when he realised that there was no ale at the bottom and then exceeded by his pathetic drunken attempts at getting out before, around an hour later, the sounds of snoring echoed up) when Muffin came in looking for us (he’d stayed with Tramp-face in his temporary digs). Apparently Tramp-face wanted to see us as he had some more info regarding the Age of Worms.

I don’t like being summoned but thought that if he did have something to help our quest I’d better go. I can’t really rely on any of the others to disseminate the information properly.
“Friends you have come back” was the rather odd greeting he gave us.

“Mortal enemies who I would like to see rotting as wormy undead minions under my control, you have come back in order for me to screw you over some more” would have been more apt but hey, each to their own.

Also he wasn’t alone. He had a (what turned out to be female) dwarf standing next to him. She/he/it is prettier than Grim (although that is like saying pit-sweat tastes better than ball-sweat) so I suppose she/he/it could be a woman of sorts.

Less surprising than the greeting and the company was the revelation that he, in fact, could not help us and that we would have to go to his and Legless’ master, Manzorian. He was able to give us his location – a coastal town called Magepoint. He would send word ahead so that we would be expected if we went to an inn called “The All Seeing Eye”.

He then introduced us to his new companion, Dalgunn Stouthammer. He said that since it seemed unlikely that Salty would be returning to aid our quest, he’d taken it upon himself to find us a replacement. Warning bells went off immediately. I could see it in his eyes. He may as well have put a black cape round him/her and cackled insanely it was so obvious that she/he was a spy. Grim did make me smirk somewhat when he suggested that the party could use him/her as we’d been without a cook for some time now. I thought Sheheit was going to feed him something, although I’m not sure how appetising it would have been.

It was then I started to feel that tug from the bottom of my backpack. I hadn’t felt it since we’d left for the Free City but with the onset of even this small amount of stress the craving began again. I tried to push it to the back of my mind (probably not the best turn of phrase considering that that seems to be where they end up) whilst Tramp-face explained that he’d graciously provide horses but wouldn’t be coming with us. He needed to stay to oversee the rebuilding of his precious home – a task apparently more important than the salvation of the world. Well, he wouldn’t need to be with us – not with his spy successfully infiltrated into our ranks.

It was with the brief lightness that had entered my heart during our trip away fully extinguished that I led the team out of Diamond Lake once more.

Starday 8th Reaping 595

My suspicions about Sheheit have been confirmed today. I subtly quizzed him/her on its relationship with Tramp-face and only got vague, mumbling answers. Something about her tracking some undead through the Cairn Hills and stumbling across our fair town where someone pointed her in his direction. He/she then tried to offer her axe as some kind of proof: on its side were carved the dwarven runes for “Death Slayer”. I bet I’ve eaten more undead than he/she’s slain.
Sunday 9th Reaping 595

It’s started again. They’re all turning against me once more. Why do they want me gone so badly? Have I not sacrificed enough to prove my dedication to the cause? Or perhaps they are set upon a quest different from my own? Or worse, can they sense the taint inside as it grows. Once again this evening I found myself thrusting my hands into the depths of my backpack trying to find the cold glassy vial that contains my relief. It was only when it slipped from my sweat-soaked hands that I stopped myself. I must resist that temptation as long as possible. I cannot let myself succumb to the worm until it is absolutely necessary. I only have one more vial left.

Today started out as many others. I managed to get some sleep even while Sheheit was on watch but only because Curly had taken it with him/her. He is many things; stupid, gormless, naive, stupid (so stupid it’s worth mentioning twice) but even he’d realize something was up if Sheheit started slitting peoples’ throats.

Anyway it was mid-afternoon when it happened. We were riding along the road when out of (literally) nowhere a huge firey winged beast with teeth as long and sharp as daggers (Muffin would later inform us that it was some kind of Pit Fiend. Have you ever noticed that ‘Friend’ and ‘Fiend’ are spelt devilishly similar?) appeared.

“I am Visciannix. Give me the rod!!!”

It closed on us and I could feel its terrifying aura washing over me. Its eyes seemed to burn right through me to my darkest fear and illuminated it with such strength that I seemed to lose all mine; and I wasn’t the only one.

Myself, Grim and Sneeze as one fled from the terrible beast just as it summoned another bat-winged creature. Smaller but equally fearsome with a long spiked chain which it started to whirl about its head which seemed to summon a fireball that engulfed all, man and beast.

What seemed like hours, but I’ve been assured was only seconds, later the fear left me as suddenly as it had arrived. Curly would later tell me that the pit-fiend let out a cry of despair before vanishing with a ‘pop’. By the time I returned to the combat there was another skeletal devil with a scorpion like tail. Both creatures seemed intent on getting to Sneeze, the holder of the piece of rod we found in Icosial’s tomb, but Curly and Sheheit we busy laying into the winged demon (until it took off that is although that did nothing to stop the lightning that Muffin was summoning from striking both of them) which only left the now flying Osyluth for us.

I decided to test out Icosial’s sword and took flight after the flying skeleton trying to position myself so that it would be trapped between Sneeze and I but as I approached I was once again stung with the overwhelming sense of fear and fled once more. I could see Grim and Sneeze being gripped by the same feeling only Curly cured Grim of his with one spell and Grim cured Sneeze of his with another. Me? No, not I! Like Muffin before them they decided to save another over me. They left me to my fate. As I ran this time, I wasn’t sure whether it was just the fear that drove me or the all too familiar taste of betrayal.

It was as my thoughts reached their darkest when a shaft of light shone in the guise of Sneeze. He was coming after me. Could it really be that the group had not completely turned on me? As he grappled me to halt my flight I felt that all might not be as grave as I thought. That was until the Osyluth appeared right next to us. The realisation struck me that Sneeze hadn’t come for me at all; he’d come so I could protect him. I couldn’t bring myself to aid him. Fear and despair gripped my hearts in equal measure as I watched him strike the beast down after which I was left with only despair.

Moonday 10th Reaping 595

With the horses dead we managed to walk to Undre, a small town that makes Diamond Lake look respectable, and purchase some horses before continuing our journey on foot.

No-one has mentioned the previous days battle although I know they must talk about it when I can’t hear. I can only imagine what they are saying and how they are trying to absolve themselves of responsibility for my actions and what a coward I must be. To the depths of the lowest hell with the lot of them!!!!

On the plus side, Grim seems to like the mug I bought him. Possibly a little too much. I think the walk to Undre would have taken half the time if he hadn’t been careening from one side of the road to the other all the way.

Godsday 11th Reaping 595

A couple of stone-giants started a fight which we ended... quickly. Sheheit seemed to have a bit of a thing against them. She/he was off his/her horse and in their faces... ok, shins, so quick that Grim barely had time to wipe the froth form his mouth. She/he was effective though taking one of them down with three mighty blows of his/her axe. Curly and Grim dispatched the other with the help of some rays of lightning from Muffin.

Waterday 12th Reaping 595

Around lunchtime we spotted Magepoint in the distance. Just off shore from it there seemed to be a tower of some sort on a small island. As we approached we could see that it was joined to the main line by a causeway that lay just above the choppy seas. One of the gate guards informed us that that was where Manzorian (apparently he’s a great archmage which begs the question how did he teach two next to useless wannabes as Tramp-face and Legless?) lived. Curly being Curly assumed that as the guard knew where Manzorian lived, he must be a close, personal friend and proceeded to ask if he knew if the archmage was home. The guard, unsurprisingly, did not know that bit of information but did give us directions to the “All Seeing Eye”.

As we wandered through the town it became apparent that it had an unusual amount of adventuring types in. Gangs of heavily armed and armoured people of all races meandered their way through the streets.

It didn’t take long to find the “All Seeing Eye”, a pub with surprisingly disappointing views considering what it has the cheek to call itself. Grim near ran to the bar to get a sample (ok, barrel) of the local ale whilst the rest of us looked around for the supposed contact that Tramp-face had arranged however it was they who spotted us. It was pretty much the last person I expected to see other than Tramp-face himself deciding that he was going to be useful. It was Moony! I hadn’t expected to see her again, not after we turned down her advances regarding the Champion’s Games. She seemed quite pleased to see us and said that she even had a surprise waiting in the back. Now as flattering as this proposal may have been, I didn’t really want to take her up on it what with the others being present and all. I was thinking on ways I could break it gently when she opened the curtain to a private booth. Sitting behind the table was THE last person I’d expected to see other than Tramp-face himself deciding that he was going to be useful and this was mainly due to the fact that the last time we’d seen him he was dead. Legless himself was sat there along with an elf named Cymria.

Legless explained that Moony had brought his body to Magepoint as his master was a close friend of the high-priest here. This man then raised him from the dead and whilst he’d been recovering he’d received word from Tramp-face about our coming. He also informed us that his master had needed to go to a place called Arcadia to finish his research about the coming of the Age of Worms and would be back in a few days. In the meantime we would be his guests at this inn and that anything we wanted would be on the house. Later that night it was Grim who was on the house... naked... proclaiming his love for fish, beer and Hanseath and then trying to justify why he’d put Hanseath third. And then trying to justify why he’d put beer second... his argument for fish being first however, was quite compelling.

Yes we're back by, well, no demand what-so-ever! After a two year gap our gm has finally overcome the stress from the pillar room saga and has picked up the campaign once again. For how long, who knows? But i hope you enjoy it as much as i do whilst it lasts.

Yours

Deree

Once again i'm sorry to say that the GM is taking a break and so i won't be posting any more of the diary for a while. I've been pestering him to run for longer but (i hate to say it) the last adventure has been a bit of a slog for both players and the GM (who bears a lot of the players frustrations) so he feels a rest would be beneficial to both. The break (hopefully) won't be as long as the last one and i will be pestering for him to run it again sooner rather than later.

As always i thank you for taking the time to read this diary and also thank you for your comments which are always welcome, both positive and negative.

Cheers

Deree (aka Steve)

ps - if you'd like to join in my pestering contact Darthloser (aka the GM), Azaroth (aka Muffin) and DMaple (aka Grim) (Curly doesn't really use paizo that much - can't find the 'Any' key to start) and, using either flowery prose or threats of violence (either's fine by me), persuade them that this needs to be run to a finish... just don't let them know i had anything to do with it... what? They can read this as well? ..... Bugger!

Starday 1st Richfest 595 cont.

The beast wasted little time in eying (get it!) us up before spreading its arms wide, an action that resulted in multiple images of itself appearing around it, before shooting black rays out of three of its eyes catching Curly, Grim and Muffin with the crackling of negative energy. They all seemed to shrug this off and as one we advanced on the beast…No wait… yep, I remember now; I was the only one who advanced on the beast. I think Sneeze started to but before he moved he became frozen in place. Grim raised a tankard to the air and slurred some words in praise to Hanseath and Curly seemed to become fascinated with Sneeze and started prodding him. Muffin, scum that he is, at least did something pointful, producing a sphere of acid on the oculus demon (he even managed it with his eyes closed claiming he didn’t want to make eye contact. Not sure he had anything to worry about; I’m pretty sure the demon didn’t want to make eye contact with him either – it’d have been too afraid that Muffin might take this as a sign and engage it in conversation, a fate way worse than any spell the blue haired Tramp-face wannabe could possibly cast).

I closed the distance on the beast and slashed away with my kukri’s trying my best not to shield my gaze
from the beast but I only managed to destroy one of its false images. Sneeze, who obviously being boosted by my presence had overcome his stage-fright, waded in with flurry after flurry of blows aimed that the creature but only had as much success as myself. As I slashed away I suddenly felt my blows becoming faster. Muffin was putting in a sterling display for us and, for the briefest of moments, a slight doubt as to the black nature of his character almost crept in. The door on that though was firmly shut as the beast shot him with another beam and, with his usual masculinity, he screamed and disappeared from the room in a puff of his own cowardice.

Struggling to discern the beast from its images Curly did something that, although bourn out of extreme stupidity turned out to probably be the smartest thing he’s ever done; he closed his eyes. Now, not sure what his logic was but it turned out that by removing his eyes from the decision making process and just rely on his instinct he was able to slash through the images and straight to the beast itself. The notion that something this genius had emerged from Curly’s brain made me go wide eyed with shock, a mistake that the beast took advantage of. He locked my gaze and shot a beam towards me. Instantly I was overcome with a nausea only rivalled by the time I let Grim in the kitchen of the Feral Dog.

I somehow managed to swallow down the bile, close my eyes and continue my attacks joined by the rest of my group that were left in the room. The ferocity of our unsighted attacks soon forced the creature to retreat into a corner. Buoyed by its obvious fear I pursued with renewed fervour fully expecting my allies to join me. Sadly it seems I was expecting too much. Curly, Sneeze and Grim all stood back and took a break from the battle. Curly and Sneeze would later claim that the beast had struck them with such power that they were forced to focus their inner energies in order to heal themselves but I know the truth; they simply spotted another opportunity to get rid of me guilt free. They must think my wits as stunted as theirs.

Grim however showed further signs of breaking Muffin’s hold over him by contributing something useful. Channelling the power of Hanseath he threw a tankard full of ale over the demon and his images. As soon as the liquid came into contact with the true form of the beast its images melted into nothing.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the blue-haired wimp (who’s at least smart enough to know that he can’t trust his minions to finish me off) reappear in the room. Of course this act of bravery was tempered by the fact that he was conveniently as far away from the beast as he could be without leaving the room.

With this re-emergence and with the demons primary defence mechanism disabled, Curly and Sneeze suddenly finished their so-called healing and waded back into melee. In desperation the beast shot beam after black beam from its eyes at anyone it could lay sight on (which was pretty much everyone) before finally succumbing to a thunderous blow from Curly’s sword.

My immediate thought was to turn my rage onto my truest enemy but with the battering that I’d taken from the demon through the inactions of my once and future comrades forced me to hold my vengeance in check… for today at least. I settled for resting and watching as Sneeze used the cloak once more to fly up to where the sarcophagus hung. Embossed on the top was the figure of (what we assumed to be) Icosial only this time, instead of the two swords crossing his body his hands were cupped as if holding an object that wasn’t there. It didn’t even take Curly long to realise that the crystal would fit (although the look of realisation only dawned on his gormless face after we plucked it from the pillar.

As Sneeze placed the crystal in the awaiting hands the top of the sarcophagus shimmered and disappeared leaving the crystal floating in mid air above the now dusty remains of the once High-lord of the wind-dukes. The poignancy was lost on the others but not on me. This man, a great leader who had believed it was his destiny to dedicate his life to one impossible mission and nearly succeeded during his time in this mortal lay in here forgotten and crumbled into dust as was the kingdom he ruled. He surrendered everything to save not only himself and his kind from the denizens of chaos but to save all those who didn’t even know that his species had ever roamed the same world as them. And yet somehow I know that none of that would matter to him. Not the fact that his ultimate sacrifice was unknown to almost everyone it saved; not the fact that his species is all but wiped out; and not that we were here now looting his tomb. All that mattered to him was his mission and the protection and safety of every living creature on the planet from his mortal enemies.

This realisation cast a bright light on my actions! What have I been doing? Why have I been being so petty? So what if Muffin wants the leadership of the group; so what if he has the rest of them under some kind of mind-controlling spell; so what if they all want me dead. They’ll get their wish sooner or later whether it be by their own hands, the hands of some monstrous being or through the ravages of time. None of it matters. The world won’t remember. My deeds and my life will be as dust and the world will not remember me, my actions or my death. But none of that matters! What does matter is that the world survives so that people can form their own memories from their own time. But in order for that to happen I need to refocus; I need to remember what I’m here for! What my destiny is! I am here to stop another force bent on the worlds destruction and, like Icosial, I must be willing to put my life and my petty worries behind me in order for to see this completed. I must see the bigger picture.

I am here to see to it that Kyuss doesn’t rise… by any means necessary. It doesn’t matter that Deree Silentfoot won’t go into the annals of history as the saviour of the world. What will matter is that the world will be saved. Who knows, maybe someday someone will raid my tomb and gain inspiration from my unsung deeds but even that is almost meaningless. All that matters is that I see to it that that person has a world in which to raid my grave.

I almost lost myself in these thoughts. I barely noticed Sneeze take Icosial’s swords, ring and what looked like the end piece of an ornate staff before resealing the sarcophagus. It was only when we arrived at the lightning room that I was brought back to reality. Muffin once again pitifully tried to get rid of me by letting me run through once more before transporting everyone else across. I couldn’t help but laugh. He’s so narrow minded that he doesn’t realise the bigger picture. I’ll still have to keep an eye on him; after all, I can’t stop the Age of Worms if I’m dead.

We decided to rest up in another of Muffin’s rooms on a rope before we confronted the spider (another creature I now can’t summon up the desire to hate) and finished checking out the rest of the tomb.

Sunday 2nd Richfest 595

Muffin was up half the night (and not just because Grim snored like a gutted wild boar) studying the fragment of staff we’d found and had come to the conclusion that it was a part of the legendary Rod of Seven Parts (so famous that he’s the only one who’s heard of it). Not sure what that means but he seemed… well, giddy at the prospect.

The spider also seemed fairly giddy (or whatever the arachnid equivalent is… spiddy?) with our presentation of the Marquis’ head. It returned the spear to us before disappearing once more into the shadowy realm it called home (I used to have a home… it wasn’t much; only a cart at the back of a rundown inn but at least it wasn’t grey. I wonder how Lavender’s doing. Seems like years since I’ve seen the old girl).

With the spider gone we wasted little time in opening the single door in its room. This led into a small shrine that had a couple of unusual features: firstly there was a suit of armour standing opposite (fortunately I was fast enough to explain to Curly that there was no-one actually in it before he demolished it) and a door painted on the side wall. What in the hells is their obsession with doors? I mean they’re every-bloody-where and most of them lead no-bloody-where. Why couldn’t they have had an obsession with something useful like diamonds or weapons or cake.

Whilst I was pondering the lack of baked goods something visited through the door, and without the courtesy of knocking. Although how a very large incorporeal undead creature knocks on a fake door I wouldn’t know so maybe it was more an inability to perform the task than a lack of manners. Either way it came as a bit of a shock when (what was later identified as) the dread wraith suddenly appeared next to me and lashed out with one of its black limbs. It obviously hadn’t heard the legend of Deree Silentfoot otherwise it would have known to pick on one of the others. The realisation hit it too late as I dodged the blow and reciprocated with one of my own that struck deep into its arm.

Obviously realising exactly who it was dealing with the ghost wannabe disappeared back through the door and out of sight. With the confines of the room allowing the undead to slip in and out without fully exposing itself I ordered people back into the larger spider room where we positioned ourselves around Muffin in the centre of the room. The wraith continued its ht and run tactics but sadly for it our hits were a lot harder and our runs a lot faster… wait, it didn’t quite come out right… I’m going to stop now.

The bottom line was that the wraith went from undead all the way to plain old dead leaving us with only the double doors opposite (where we were promised the xorns would be) left to explore on the lower level. We opened them up to the roaring sound of the River of Blood rushing through the chamber the other side of which was another set of double doors. A crumbling bridge offered a less than appealing path across which we declined in favour of Muffin Transports Ltd.

As soon as we landed some of the weirdest looking creatures I’d ever seen (well at least since the time I was unfortunate enough to catch a look at Muffin as he came out of the wash room wearing nothing but a towel and a smile – both of which very regrettably fell) appeared from the rock. I don’t really know what I expected xorns to look like but it certainly wasn’t this. I mean what type of creature had three
three legs? I did once know a guy called ‘Tripod’ Jones but I’m not sure that’s the same thing.

Anyway three legs or not these things had worse balance than Grim after a four day binge, a fact that Sneeze took full advantage of. Legs were flying everywhere as these things went from tripod to timber before being pummelled to death as they tried to stand. I have to say I didn’t think Sneeze was quite that ruthless but he beat those flailing mounds of arms and legs like he was clubbing baby owlbears.

With Sneeze’s bashing spree combined with Grim’s newly found spinning axe attacks (not sure whether he does it on purpose or he just over reaches; either way the method has merit) and Curly’s old ‘stick the large sharp metal thing in my hands in the thing directly in front of me what is trying to hit me’ technique the xorns were soon no more.

You know I wrote before about how I respected Icosial and what he’d stood for; well I’ve changed my mind. I hate the wind-dukes and all their stupid race ever believed in, especially doors! When I eventually settle down my house is having nothing but archways. If I never see another door my whole life I’ll die a happy, happy, ecstatic person. My sudden loathing to this particular method of baring an entry has come about through an intense session of aversion therapy where by I was subjected to four, count them four, doors that appeared to be trapped (but weren’t) that led not to the lost treasure of the wind-dukes or the lair of the most foul beast ever to have ravaged the world we live in; no! They led to a stone wall! A stone-bloody-wall! A blank, sodding, common as you like stone-bloody-wall!

Such was not only my… annoyance doesn’t really come close to how we felt but I don’t really have the words to describe it. Grim I think probably does but I’m obviously not as eloquent as he is… that Grim decided he didn’t want to spend anymore time in this place than was absolutely necessary. With that he poured himself several large tankards of ale which disappeared faster than Tramp-face when confronted by a little girl armed with a skipping rope before plonking himself down on the floor and slurring a lot of what we assumed were questions to Hanseath regarding the nature of what was left in this forsaken tomb and whether it was worth us looking around the rest of it. Our god answered his prayers with a resounding ‘get the hell out before you die of frustration’… either that or Grim lied (either was fine with me) and we left the Whispering Cairn; hopefully forever.

Moonday 3rd Richfest 595

I thought long and hard about two things last night. Firstly I think I’m going to keep Icosial’s short sword. Not only can it do funky things like electrocute people when you hit them and let you fly (hah! Try dropping me off a five hundred foot cliff now!) but I’ve reconsidered my latest opinion of him. After all he didn’t build his own tomb so can’t really be blamed for the anger I’m still overcoming about that, and I feel it would be apt if I used the weapon of a legendary champion that had saved the world previously to do so again. That way the sword would be ingrained into the stories of two legendary heroes!

As for the second thing I’ve been wondering; is murder still against the law as I feel it my duty to kill Tramp-face before he tries to kill me and my group again. He’s been trying to ever since we met. Think about it! He sent us into the Whispering Cairn the first time we met him. He then tried to bore us to death on that journey to Blackwall Keep and when we got there he abandoned us to the mercy of an army of lizardmen. He then sent us to that metropolis of assassins that is the Free City and, when we survived that, lured us back into the cairn where he almost succeeded what he started all those months ago by frustrating us to death with doors that lead nowhere. I'm thinking self-defense is a well justified defence in this case your honour.

I am however putting a positive spin on this as I feel this actions shows that he thinks that I’m going to fulfil my destiny; he must have had some foresight as to my true providence in stopping the prophecy of the coming of Kyuss and his army of worms and so has been trying to kill me and my group before I could succeed. This would however mean that he is an agent of Kyuss and if that is the case, why haven’t I sensed the stench ridden aura emanating from his inadequate, pasty body? He does wear that magical tiara all the time – maybe that blocks his innate evil essence from escaping. When Muffin and the others head to the Free City to sell the treasure we’d managed to acquire from the cairn, I think I’ll have to have a private word with his boss.

Cheers... in that case ignore previous suggestion for adventure but my opinion/advice would still remain - do some serious reading/reworking on this adventure before you run it - it's very frustrating to play as it is

Well said Mary.

Just on the point of loot - one of the things that hasn't been mentioned is that the group has slain a dragon which, presumably, somewhere has a treasure hoarde that the players don't (at least at this time - having not read the adventures i'm not sure if it crops up later on) get a sniff of.

Having played GoW i see no relevence to the campaign or the coming of the Age of Worms (as i said, not read the adventures so maybe there's a link i've missed or comes up later) and feel that it was put in to give the players a break from killing undead (although a break from one set of creatures immune to sneak attacks and crits should not involve a whole dungeon of creatures immune to sneak attacks and crits).

If a break was what was intended then i would advise all gm's who haven't run this particular adventure not to and come up with something else a bit more... different for want of a better word.

The one thing that immediately springs to mind is the dragon hoarde. Players could research the dragon and try to find its lair... along with a number of other groups (Kullen if he's still alive, Tira and her group, any other groups sponsored by the mine bosses/prominent figures of DL who all know a dragon's dead). Said dragon could have had baby dragons, loads of those crazy half-lizardmen/dragon hybrids or whatever they were from E at BK, possibly even a load of Spawn of Kyuss dragonkin or any number of other beasties - even the pillar room could be incorporated in order to get across a big cavern to the treasure room if you really like. The treasure found in GoW could be duplicated or even relaced by the monotary equivalent.

As i said, i may be completely wrong in my assessment of the adventure but all i can do is offer my opinion as a player who (having played a rogue throughout it) has had some of the most frustrating and boring weeks of my roleplaying life (not my entire life though - them two weeks work experience at the garden centre were way more tedious)although i hope you can't tell from the diary (shameless plug for Deree's Diary).

GM's just think before you run is all i'd say.

Deree (aka Steve)

Starday 1st Richfest 595

I didn’t write in the diary yesterday as I wasn’t feeling to well; I’d contracted a mild case of death. I’m feeling loads better today though.

Yesterday started well enough with everyone having to wait around until Grim and Muffin shook off the effects of the wand that the Marquis had used on them and so we didn’t get moving until after lunch (or breakfast in Grim’s case). I decided that we should investigate the multitude of nooks and crannies that were dotted around on the waterfall and also decided that the best way to do this would be for Muffin to fly up there alone and scout them out before transporting the rest of us up should anything of interest be found. What he discovered was very interesting indeed.

He came back and informed us that he’d found a secret door at the end of one of the passages which, after getting transported up there and me checking them out for any traps, we opened up to discover a set of carved stairs leading up. We followed these until we came to another door which opened up into a chamber with the most impressive set of doors I’ve ever seen. These things were massive and shiny. Grim identified them as being made out of adamantine.

We approached them in order to try and read the multiple runes and inscriptions but as we did I suddenly started to shake uncontrollably. Every part of my body felt as though it was having its own mini earthquake only the aftershocks kept rumbling on. I turned to see that Grim and Muffin were suffering the same but Curly and Sneeze seemed unaffected.

Despite this (or more likely due to the fact that he gets the shakes on a fairly regular basis, if for a different reason) Grim ventured forward and touched the door whilst casting a spell in order to interpret the language. Most of the runes were curses against the forces of chaos but a set at the centre that crossed both doors were slightly more flowery:

“Dare not enter the tomb of Icosial, Lord of Aaqu, wandering Duke, bearer of the Rod of Law. His righteous peace and glorious memory are best left to the ages and his enemies are best left forever sleeping.”

Ignoring this completely, Sneeze (the person we deemed most like the wind-dukes i.e. the most boring) reached into my haversack and pulled out the runed crystal and held it towards the doors. As the smoke poured from it, Sneeze uttered three words that he later said had simply appeared in his mind: Aqaa, Icosial, Peche. The smoke instantly disappeared (as did my shakes) and slowly the doors opened up to reveal a room that reminded me of the stepping stones across the river I used to play in as a child, only these weren’t stepping stones and the consequences for missing a step seemed a bit more severe than a wet bum. Pillars of increasing height whose base disappeared into mist below were spaced along the length of this entire chamber. At the end of this gauntlet was a ledge in front of another set of huge shiny double doors.
Deciding that Grim and Curly were particularly ill equipped to hop from pillar to post Muffin (whose limitations were about to cost us big time) once again transported everyone apart from Sneeze across to the far side. Sneeze then used the cloak we’d taken from the Marquis to fly across after us. As he took off the mist began to stir and as quick as the wind, up shot two huge creatures seemingly made of the air itself and clubbed him with massive airy appendages. Sneeze managed to adroitly dodge around them and flew to where the rest of us were cramped together on the ledge. Knowing there was no way that we could fight these creatures in these tight conditions I jumped to the nearest pillar. As my feet touched down I managed to get my balance just in time feel the pillar start to collapse. As I feared I would fall into the mist Grim frantically prayed to Hanseath for a miracle. One came in the form of a stone platform that melded into another pillar and the ledge on which they were standing.

I managed to get to the safety of this scaffold just as the (now identified as) air elementals wound themselves up (literally) into massive whirlwinds. I tried to dodge out of their way but the strength of the tornado sucked me in. I realise now that I stood no chance of avoiding this as the pull was that strong they even managed to pick up Grim and Curly (although the one that picked up Grim barely had the strength to do lift his girth and as such didn’t have the resources left to even lift Muffin’s girly frame). As I was spun violently around I was un aware that the creatures had moved at all so it came as a bit of a shock when they stopped and we found ourselves in mid air at the centre of the room. There was the briefest of seconds in which we seemed to hang before I started to plummet. Just before I disappeared into the mist I spotted Muffin casting and Grim and Curly seemingly halt their descent.

I tried to right myself as I fell for who knows how far (I was later told five hundred feet so I guess everyone knows) but I was unable to see the ground through the mist and so the impact, when it came, was huge. I felt and heard several ribs snapping on impact and my head split open pouring blood and violently as the waterfall. For several moments I tried to regain at least some of the breath that had been forced from me before gingerly standing on legs that at least one of was broken.

The sounds of battle could be heard above and seemed to be getting louder as I staggered around the edge of the room looking in vain for a way out. I circled the entire room with no luck so I decided to put myself in as defensible position as I could and wait for the elementals to come and finish me off. When they came however, they were not alone. I heard Grim’s cursing, Curly’s grunting and Sneeze’s screaming as they continued the battle that had raged the entire depth of the pit. Muffin, coward and traitor that he is, had remained above out of all danger.

I started to move out to help but something inside wouldn’t let me go. A voice inside me spoke. It reminded me that it was these people that had let me fall to my death. That they, in league with Muffin, had saved themselves from the fate they saw fit to impart on me; it would be right and just that they die at the hands of the very creatures they probably summoned to kill me. Another thought wiped the grin that I didn’t even know I’d formed from my face; without these people I was stuck down here and would eventually starve to death. I went against the voices of vengeance and made my way to the sounds of battle, a decision that proved fatal. Obviously still under control of whichever one of the traitorous scum that summoned them the creatures struck me with all there might.

Next there was blackness. Death was not how I’d imagined it. There was no light, no colour, no Hanseath to guide me to that giant party in the sky. Only eternal, infinite black. Well, not quite; more temporary then eternal, which was a surprising bonus!

Even more surprising was the source of the brief nature of my demise. It was Grim who brought me back. The person I feared was leading the coup against me. Why would he bring me back when he’d got what he wanted? Someone else must be pulling the strings and whoever it is, they must be raging with Grim. This could give me the opportunity to find out – whoever is frosty with Grim, that’s my man. I know why he brought me back though – jealousy. He didn’t want me to be in the blessed company of Hanseath before him. I knew he was envious of my connection with our deity but I didn’t realise his feelings ran deep enough to defy his mortal master, whoever that may be.

When I woke up we were once again up one of Muffin’s extra-dimensional rooms. Everyone else was, and is still, asleep. I looked outside and the surrounding mist let me know that we were still at the bottom of the pit although when Muffin finally got the guts to come down is something I’ll have to find out.

According to Grim it was just after Curly shouted up that the elementals were dead. He’s my new front runner. Sure he took the softly, softly approach but he’s not going to catch this monkey, not now. He had his chance, which to be fair he took, but it wasn’t good enough. A good leader should be in full control of those under them – no surprise he’s not one. Still I mustn’t underestimate him; after all that’s what he did to me. Other than exposing Muffin for what he is, one other thing has come from my death; I might be able to turn Grim back to me. Even if his motives were selfish, his actions mean that he’s not completely under Muffin’s spell… Spell? Is that it? Is that how he’s controlling the others? Has he cast some kind of dweomer on them! Clearly whatever he’s tried hasn’t worked on me and Grim is slowly breaking its hold. Perhaps the same might happen with the other two, although I don’t hold out much hope of Curly having the strength of mind to manage it.

When everyone was up, suited and booted, the latest pretender to my throne transported us back to the top of the pillars where we tried to find a way to open the second set of massive doors. Knowing the expense the wind-dukes had previously gone to to put false doors in stupid places I joked that this might be another example of their decadent and wasteful nature. Many a true word is spoken in jest. On the top of one of the pillars we found a circular indentation which even Curly could work out the crystal we’d found would fit into. As soon as the crystal hit the stone the pillar started to rise. It continued to climb high up to the top of the chamber halting only a few feet from the ceiling. As our lift came to a halt our ascent continued. We rose up until our heads came within inches of the rock above before suddenly found ourselves in different room.

This room had all the hallmarks of a tomb; that is to say it had a sarcophagus in it. The walls were decorated with pictures of a funeral procession filled with all manner of creatures associated with air and law. The sarcophagus itself was suspended in the air on the far side of the tomb, a life-size carving on its lid showed Icosial at rest, his two swords lying on his chest.

We stepped in the room, my worries regarding Muffin fading with the awe of the chamber. That feeling was son also completely faded when, out of nowhere, a large red demon with eyes covering its entire body appeared in front of us. Licking its lips it stepped forward, squishing several eyes on the soles of his feet with each pace.

I dived through as iron met stone leaving Sneeze and Muffin stranded on the other side as the empty-handed statue reached out and pointed at Curly. As the black beam shot into him Curly’s ruddy face visibly paled (at one point I thought his hair was going to straighten). The three of us trapped on the right side of the portcullis (or wrong side depending on your point of view) flew at the (by now identified as a) Kolyarut Inevitable whilst Sneeze began battering his way through the portcullis.

Once more our weapons seemed ineffectual against the construct and with each touch of that creature Curly seemed to get weaker and weaker. Muffin, safe on the other side of the portal, created a huge ball of lightning and dropped it on the monster. The electricity crackled through our latest foe, jolting it from side to side. We backed away and let the electricity do its job. The inevitable fell just as the iron portcullis succumbed to Sneeze’s brutal blows.

Eager to see what such a powerful construct of law could be guarding we opened the door to find treasures beyond belief. No wait… that was another room guarded by a different creature that I dreamt of once – this one was empty… starkers… more is found in Curly’s head.

Leaving the room we slid through the archway beyond the five inanimate statues into a long room with one door at the end and a large ice encrusted statue at either end. Pondering what to do, our decision was made for us as the statues animated and attacked. These (fortunately) were identified as Ice Constructs which were chipped and melted away under our furious attacks.

As we approached the only door left un-investigated a loud… slopping (for want of a better word) was clearly audible from beyond. Stealing ourselves for another battle we opened the door only to find that the entire sunken floor of the room was covered in a (soon identified) magical pool of swirling slush. Muffin, in a fit of verbal diarrhoea, spouted some useless information about how the wind-dukes used magical creatures such as (what he explained in painful detail – seriously; it made me long for the good old days when Kullen used to beat me up for my ale money) Snow Weirds as soothsayers.

With the fact that it wasn’t hurting anyone (and more specifically not hurting us) we closed the door behind us and left it to its soothsaying before heading back to the waterfall where I decided that we should rest to allow Curly to regain his lost strength and for Grim to pray fro the blessings of Hanseath to heal our wounds.

Earthday 27th Wealsun 595

They left me to die. They actually left me to die. They saw me fall, they knew what awaited below and yet they still left me stranded down there for who knows how long with a group of the vilest undead who by all rights should have feasted on my flesh before they planned to show up and “rescue me” just a minute or two too late. Why would they be that afraid of me? Have they seen my scars? Do they know what I’ve done, what I’m becoming? They can’t know – they’d have killed me before now if they did. Unless they’re afraid of me or don’t have the stomach to do the job themselves. Maybe this was the opportunity they’d been waiting for – a guilt free way of getting rid of me. If that is the case then I can’t stay out of their proximity for any length of time in the future lest another opportunity arises.

The day started out as normal with the usual people annoying me from the off with their intense study of their spell books or vocal snivelling to gods in order to stay in their favour (don’t get me wrong, I pray as well but at least I have the courtesy to keep it brief and quiet), or with their silent meditation. Whatever I said about her, at least Salty would talk to you during breakfast.

With the daily rituals out of the way we stepped to the edge of the waterfall and, putting more trust in Muffin than I think he’s earned, jumped of the edge as he cast a spell that allowed us to float down as gently as a feather (apart from Sneeze who used the ring that Salty gave to him to try and make me jealous before she left). All was going well until the pit started to narrow which wouldn’t have been a problem until Muffin informed us that if we put a foot down then the spell would end. I’m not sure if he does it on purpose or he’s just incompetent but surely that’s something we should have known before we made this leap of faith. Thinking quickly I ordered Curly to throw up our magical rope and, as the edge sloped towards us, we all grabbed on and allowed Sneeze to guide us through the small, winding path that the blood red water had carved through the rock like a worm burrowing through the wet earth.

The passage opened out once more and formed a shallow pool on a ledge before overflowing once more falling into the darkness below. Muffin informed us that his spell was running low on time (at least he let us know before we fell to our deaths) and that this would be a good place to re-cast.

As we approached the (what turned out to be) deep pool I heard a whooshing from above. Just before I sank beneath the water I spotted six wind-warriors swooping down on us from above. I held my breath fro as long as I could before remembering that Grim had cast a spell that let us breathe water (even rank red water). By the time I was heaved out of the water by a very large Grim, the wind-warriors had fled past us down the waterfall.

Knowing that they were going to be laying in wait in some nook or cranny we steeled ourselves against the battle to come before Muffin recast his spell and we dived off the edge of the pool. Despite this preparation when the attack came it was swift and brutal. Three wind-dukes appeared next to me and slashed at me furiously with their swords. Such was the ferocity of their attack I felt I had no choice but to let go of the rope and fall to the waterfall below. Just as I was caught up in the raging torrent I saw Grim whirling his axe around his head catching three of the wind-warriors in its blurred arc.

I’m not sure how far I fell but I was buffeted around from rock to boulder and eventually out into the open air. I tried to tight myself in mid-flight but the water still impacted like concrete. I managed to remain conscious and dragged myself to the edge of the pool before I could be pulled along too much by the current. I lay on the bank trying to catch my breath when a shadow fell over me and a voice as cold as Sneeze’s personality greeted me with the chilling words:

“My friends, we have a visitor.”

I forced myself to open my eyes already fearing what I might see but my imagination hardly prepared me for the truth. Above me was a tall man that exuded the unmistakable aura of a powerful undead. This image was only exemplified by the appearance of his “friends” – four mohrgs complete with their barbed tongues and writhing viscera. I stood and back away from the group, shielding my eyes from the lantern the Marquis was shining towards me.

I knew I had to stall until the others arrived. The Marquis was obviously intelligent and so despite my disdain for undead of any kind I began a dialogue. My charm didn’t seem to work and the creatures advanced on me. I rolled up my sleeves to prepare myself for what I was convinced would be my last battle when the Marquis stopped in his tracks. He was staring intently at my arms or more specifically at the scars on my arms.

“You are tainted, yet you still live?”

I was unsure whether it was a question or a statement but I needed to keep him talking. I revealed what I had done, what I was becoming. I told him my reasons for doing it. I told him all about the scrolls and the prophecy, about the coming of the Age of Worms and Kyuss. I told him about the dreams of worms and death. I told him everything I was too afraid to tell any of my so-called friends for fear of the reprisal that would come (that they were enacting out as I spoke…?). The creature listened to the whole story without interruption and, at its end, uttered the words I have only dared dream someone would say to me:

“I understand.”

It felt like I’d been carrying Grim on my back for the past month and I’d finally put him down. This creature of unspeakable evil, a member of the undead legion had performed an act of forgiveness and altruism that even the most virtuous of my so called friends were incapable of even contemplating. With those two words my most hated enemy granted me absolution. It was almost a shame when the others flew in from the dark passage.

The sight of a flying monk dragging a holy warrior of Heironeous, an elf wearing the unmistakable garb of a wizard followed by a giant dwarf shouting profanities shook the Marquis from his reverie. The mohrgs quickly surrounded me and all lashed out with their tongues. I dodged two but, in dodging the third, I moved directly into the path of the forth. My body froze stock still as the barbed appendage roughly caressed my face. Moments later I felt a large hand touch my back and immediately the feeling came back. I attacked the nearest mohrg with all the rage I could but the creature took hold of me trying to stifle my blows. With one arm pinned in the creatures vice like grip I struck out with my free hand. As the blade sunk into the creature I suddenly felt a surge of power, the same feeling that I get when Grim casts a healing spell on me only this time the energy surged from me and into the undead monster that screamed in agony. With renewed vigour I plunged my blade in again and again, deeper and stronger with each blow until it fell.

Such was my fervour that I almost forgot about the Marquis who had opened out his cape and risen in the air above the river. Cackling the creature pointed a wand at Muffin and shot out a beam that struck unerringly. If possible he turned whiter than usual. The beam struck once more before he took sanctuary behind Grim.

At this point Sneeze flew up and engaged the creature in aerial combat. Within seconds though Sneeze had succumbed to the paralyzing effects of the Marquis’ touch. With the last of the mohrgs falling beneath Curly’s blade, it was with a heavy heart that I unslung my sling and sent a bullet shooting to the heart of the beast that had exonerated me. I swear it smiled before its lifeless eyes voided themselves of what little spark they had.

I sank to my knees in a mixture of relief and regret and looked up just in time to see the body start to glow. Suddenly a green force seemed to tear itself away from the body that instantly fell into the water. The spectre grinned as it swooped towards us. Its offence was short lived however as with one mighty swing of his sword Curly vanquished the remnants of my unlikely saviour.

We searched the cavern to try see if we could find any of these weapons that the wind-dukes were meant to have created but to little avail. We did find a large round crystal that had three runes written in the wind-duke language on it. Muffin tried to identify it but said that the item was too powerful for his magic to penetrate. Carefully Curly picked it up to put it in a sack but as he laid a hand on it smoke started to form around it. We backed away as the smoke dissipated to reveal two large dark-skinned humanoids that almost immediately disappeared. Muffin, still weakened by the wand summoned up what little reserves he had left and sprayed the entire area in a sparkling dust that settled on the monsters making them visible and seemingly blind. We picked these poor unfortunates off with ease before prodding the gem into a bag with the end of Curly’s sheath.

The others are asleep now and it’s taking all my willpower not to slit each one of their treacherous throats. Where in the nine hells were they? They should have been there moments after me. I even feared that they may have been slain by the wind-warriors but now I know the truth; they were hoping that the creatures at the end of the river would finish off what the fall started. They would have thought that their entrance was timed so that I could see them riding to my “rescue” just before I fell into that long sleep. Oh how they underestimated me, thinking me witless enough to silently succumb to their death-trap. One good thing has come out of all this though – at least I know none of them has the guts to do it themselves. It is in this knowledge that I am going to sleep soundly in my enemy’s camp tonight, and every night until I deem it time to end the relationship.

Godsday 25th Wealsun 595

Managed to get a dreamless sleep last night; wish I knew how to make that a permanent state of affairs but I guess that’s not going to happen. Although I’ve started thinking that maybe it’s someone’s way of trying to tell me something although if they’re powerful enough to put dreams in my head, why can’t they make them a bit less obtuse? No time to ponder it now though; we’re heading back to the statue room as soon as Grim’s finished picking the remains of his breakfast out of his beard.

I’m not dead and it wasn’t the statues that caused my current predicament but other than that my prediction about the room was perfect. We entered the room and were surprised to find that the statues didn’t immediately animate and attack. Maybe that’s why we were surprised when a huge (what later became obvious) shadow spider appeared from nowhere and attacked us. And by us I mean me. It dropped down from the ceiling and reached out for me with one of its claws. As it touched me my vision seemed to blur but when I looked back to the spider I realised that it was the room that was blurring. In the briefest of seconds everything came back into focus. I was in the same room only everything seemed to be darker. It was as if the shadows were deepened both in colour and size. I glanced behind me only to find that the rest of the group hadn’t travelled with us. Figuring my only way out f this shadowy hell would be to kill my abductor I channelled my inner rage and flew at the spider. Obviously intimidated by my sudden increase in power, the cowardly arachnid ran. And boy could it run. It disappeared out the room faster than a thought out of Curly’s head.

I tried to follow but as I moved out of the room the world went blurry once more only this time I didn’t appear back in the room but somewhere else. As the world came back into focus I fell to the hard stony ground. I tried to rise but my body wouldn’t respond. I looked around the landscape only to find that there wasn’t much to see. I was on a flat, barren plain that stretched almost to the horizon. The only focal point I could find was a volcano in the distance. The whole place looked familiar but I couldn’t quite place it.

I sat there for an hour before I could muster the energy to move myself to a more defensible position, a position I’m still occupying now some four hours later. I have to be honest I don’t feel as apprehensive as I think I should be considering I’m exhausted, alone and lost. It’s almost nice to have time to myself without worrying about who’s doing what around me. I’ve spent a lot of this time thinking about that dream I had the other night and if I’ve figured it out then my future doesn’t look great. Some parts I’m not yet sure of so I don’t want to elaborate too much. The one thing I’m sure of is that I have to infuse another worm and I need to do it soon otherwise the one inside will consume me from the inside. I wish I weren’t feeling so weak; this would be the ideal time to do it away from the prying eyes and ears of the others but I daren’t risk it until I’m fully fit.

Just when you think things can’t get any worse, it’s started to rain. It’s laughable really. I’m just waiting for the thunder and lightning to top off what’s been a wonderful day so far.

Today has been a very long, very boring but ultimately… no, the first two pretty much cover it. I’ve spent most of it fatigued, cold, wet and alone and the times when I wasn’t those things, I was beat up, electrocuted, wracked with headaches and stuck with someone who makes Curly and Sneeze seem like bastions of intelligence and interest as well as making Muffin look like a battle hardened knight of legend. He didn’t make Grim look like anything apart from the drunkard he is but then again I haven’t met anyone who doesn’t. Despite this I’m still in a remarkably good mood and I don’t know why.

Just before dusk the spider appeared near me. Still feeling fatigued I unsteadily drew my weapons preparing to go down fighting. It was then the spider spoke. He told me that it’d made a bargain with my group for my safe return (obviously why it took me; it must have sensed that they couldn’t do without me and that I wouldn’t have bargained anything for the safe return of any of the others.. maybe Grim but to be fair, he is the one carrying the Efreet brandy) and all I had to do was trust him. Well that wasn’t going to happen so I sent him back with a question for them – what happened to Salty (which I quickly had to change to Insalla – unless the others have been reading my diary they wouldn’t have known who I was talking about. Although thinking about it that may not have been a bad thing to have known). The spider quickly returned and gave me the correct answer and also a tankard with some Efreet brandy in it. At this point I was a bit concerned that the spider had killed Grim (he’s not someone who gives away good ale) but came to the conclusion that I had no choice but to trust the arachnid. It touched me once more and once more the world turned blurry and dark before we reappeared in the statue room in front of the rest of my group who had been waiting with baited breath for my return.

Once back the trade took place. It’s nice to see what the rest of the group think I’m worth; the hyper-long spear we got from the noble salamander. Whoever did those negotiations deserves a medal although they could have done better – they could have traded me for Sneeze.

I was a bit disappointed that they wouldn’t let me kill the arachnid on my return – apparently Curly had given his word that we’d perform a task for the creature in exchange for my safe return – however when I found out what the task was I felt a bit better. The spider (apparently the guardian of the tomb) wanted us to go and kill something that called itself the ‘Marquis of the River’; an undead (possibly a ghoul) that lives – is that the right word? I mean the thing is dead – that makes its abode in a cavern at the end of the ‘River of Blood’ (sounds nice). Apparently this ghoul not only fights with a great big sword but is also a powerful spell caster (maybe we could persuade him to join us – sounds more useful than Muffin – apart from the being an evil member of the undead ranks. Still Muffin isn’t exactly perfect).

With the spider good enough to point us in the right direction, we left its lair and moved through the double doors opposite where we entered and found ourselves in a small shrine. There was a door to our right and opposite was a golden statue that was illuminated by a very focussed and bright light. This statue was holding a sword in one hand and the other was covering its eyes which, closer inspection we found were blue topaz. On the wall behind was a bas-relief of Icosial standing triumphant against the armies of chaos (not sure I’m for that, although it makes me less guilty about ransacking his tomb).

We took the door and found ourselves in a very odd room. The first thing that hit was the smell – it reminded me of the air when there’s a thunder storm. The room itself was roughly circular and sloped down like a funnel to the centre of the room and an archway opposite led onto some stairs. Oh yeah; floating in a flickering ball of lightning that was hanging from the bottom of a spike protruding from the ceiling at the centre, seemingly inanimate, was a very battered and bloody Shrub-beard (might have to come up with a new name for him – his beard was very scraggly and distinctly shrubless).

Anyway, with Tramp-face being about as useful as he normally is I decided to get a closer look. Unfortunately as I stepped in the room a bolt of lightning shot at me. Sadly even lightning is too slow to catch me and I easily side-stepped out of the way and back out of the room. With the best spell-casting minds our group had to offer mulling the situation over I figured I’d make a run for it whilst I was still young enough to do it. The lightning struck out at me once more but I dodged it once more.

The stairs on the other side led down only a short way until it dropped off into a pit forty foot deep that split off into two passages. A ladder started where the stairs ended and travelled all the way to the bottom. I turned to inform the others only to find that the best spell-casting minds had come up with the genius idea of moving the statue into the lightning room (apparently it was meant to attract the lightning so people could walk through unharmed) and, in doing so had attracted the attention of the bas-reliefs that had come alive and were busy attacking them.

I sprinted back across the room but in my haste to aid my group of genius’ (and people wonder why I’m the leader) I have to say I didn’t pay as much heed to the lightning strike as I should have. As I flew through the air with smoke trailing from my ass all I could really think about was how the rather large, stone, club-like fists of the now animate bas-reliefs were getting awfully close. Then, after the thudding pain in my sternum suddenly appeared, all I could think was how the rather large, stone, club-like fists were rapidly getting further away.

As I landed I looked up in time to see Muffin get back to his sparkling best. With concentration etched on his face he uttered words of such magical power that even I was sure that the creatures would crumble beneath its might. The short version is that they didn’t. The long version is that the crackles of lightning trickled off their back like drool off Grim’s beard. Curly was busy slashing the monsters but the edge of his blade skittered across the rock with little affect. Sneeze, on the other hand (or more accurately on both of his hands) was knocking chunks out of the upperty decorations. Seeing the effectiveness of his thudding blows I decided not to run in with my kukris but rather resort to using my sling. After the dust had gotten out of my eyes I rained in blow after blow. More dust came into my eyeshot as Muffin pulled out his bow and started pinging arrows in with more accuracy than I thought he possessed (although it would explain the outcome of his shots if he was actually aiming for me) and Curly drew his dagger (a large man with a huge shield poking a stone carving is quite possibly the most amusing thing I’ve ever seen).

Despite this hindrance, the décor was soon put to sword (or more precisely dagger, arrow, fist and bullet) and we once again set about trying to figure out a way to free Tramp-face as Grim healed us through the blessings of Hanseath (it still shocks me when I feel that healing energy surge through me amplified by the worm).

I ran around to the other side of the lightning room once more only to find that the top of the pit had been sealed over. Over the buzz of the lightning ball I could hear a rush of water battering the walls beyond the barrier.

With options running out I risked the room once more and tried to disarm the trap with no success. I think I was a bit distracted thinking about the times that Salty had tried to help me. Yup, even when she isn’t here, she still manages to put me off.

With all other options exhausted I decided to allow Muffin to have a go. I don’t know what spell he cast but I do wish he’d cast it on our enemies. It doubled me over, restricted my breathing, produced a severe ache in my sides and caused my eyes to water. It rendered me absolutely helpless! It was either that or the fact that when he dispelled the ball of lightning, Tramp-face plummeted from his suspended animation to the floor cushioning his landing with his face. I’m serious – he landed right on his bearded mush. In hind sight it’s probably a good thing; at least this way he was in no danger of damaging anything important – if he’d landed on his feet he may have broken his legs and we’d have had to carry him out.

This scuppered my attempts to offer any kind of assistance but Muffin, obviously concerned for his master ran into the room and dragged Tramp-face back to Grim who brought him round. As soon as he did, I knew we’d made a mistake as he started to speak. It was worse and more inane than I remembered! Firstly he repeated what we already knew – that he’d been penned in here by a black dragon. He ran through the portal and somehow managed to make it all the way to the lightning room where he got zapped. That was the last thing he could remember.

Muffin, being the empathetic and sympathetic person he is, nodded all the way through his tale before saying, and I quote:

“Interesting… can I get some new spells off you?”

Tramp-face duely handed over his travelling spell-book which Muffin took with the giddy joy only usually seen on children the morning of their birthdays. This look was soon wiped from his mug when he actually peeked inside and saw the true limitations of his mentor.

This then brought about the second most hilarious part of the day when Tramp-face said that he had more spells in his main book which was in his house. Due to further stomach pains and watery eyes I was forced to let someone else tell him that his house had been completely destroyed by the dragon. The look on his face only furthered my inability to function for the next ten minutes.

Other than comic relief, Tramp-face did offer one piece of useful information. When I described the plains and volcano I had been abducted to, he said that it sounded like the Fields of Peche which, he clarified, was about five hundred miles north-east of Diamond Lake.

When we told Tramp-face about our investigations in the Free City and what had happened to Legless he did show some concern. He said that he agreed with Legless that we should get in touch with their old master who he named Manzorian, regarding our findings. Just when I though it was safe to unplug my ears, Muffin had to go and ask another question regarding why he left his master. Apparently they had a difference of opinion; Tramp-face wanted to go exploring (why? He’s crap at it! Anytime he goes anywhere all he wants to do is bugger off home as fast as his spells can carry him) where as his master (who sounds like a wise and intelligent man) said that he wasn’t ready.

This seemed to satisfy everyone so before anyone else could give Tramp-face another opportunity to open his trap I got Muffin to conjure another room at the top of a rope (no matter how many times or from what angle I see it, watching Grim and Curly struggle up that rope is still funny. I’m also pretty sure that Grim comes up with a new profanity on each occasion) and everyone settled down for the night. I waited until the orchestra of snores started (although Tramp-face even managed to ruin this symphony – that man has the timing of a St Cuthbite) I snuck down the rope and opened up my haversack. There sitting neatly on top were the two vials containing the worms. It took all my willpower not to quaff both, especially after the exquisite pain of the first embraced my entire, working its way down from my head. I wiped up the blood from that had dripped onto the floor from my nose and climbed dizzily back up to the chorus above.

Waterday 26th Wealsun 595

Before we’d even finished breakfast that ungrateful rat disappeared in a puff of his own arrogance. He said that he couldn’t offer us any assistance but that we should continue on as he believed the Wind-dukes could have some weapons hidden in their tombs that could aid us in our quest. If we do find any I’m going to take them and introduce Tramp-face to a game we Halflings like to call “Stab the unbelievably full-of-himself wizard with as many pointy things as you can in an attempt to produce as many different sounds out of as many different orifices as you can, both natural and newly formed, before the scumbag dies in extreme agony”. Catchy don’t you think?

Still harbouring that frustration I ran through the lightning room swiftly followed by Sneeze. The lightning trap must have some kind of intelligence as it avoided going for me and struck out at my less nimble colleague catching him just before he got to the stairs.

The slab that had blocked the pit was gone and so I started the climb down. Sneeze, in an act which I’m not sure was an attempt to intimidate me or to protect me from whatever dangers might be below (both acts equally futile) simply jumped off the edge and bounced from wall to wall all the way to the bottom.

As I reached the floor the iron slab at the top moved across blocking out the light from above. From the corridor on our left I heard the roaring sound of water rushing quickly towards us. Wasting no time we both started up the ladder keeping just ahead of the ever rising water level. We reached the top and Sneeze immediately started hammering away against the barrier. The fool wasted his time and energy though as the water level didn’t rise sufficiently high to catch us and after a few minutes it started to fall and eventually disappeared along the right-hand corridor.

Feeling that the pit was now secure we ventured down to the bottom once more and called for the others to come across. Muffin duly obliged and transported the non-runners directly to the bottom of the pit. Expecting the water to flow once more we quickly made our way along the right-hand corridor to find an iron door that Curly took extreme exception to with his adamantine sword. Beyond this was a very strange sight. To our left was a large red waterfall descending into a mixture of spray and darkness. To our right was a ledge that rimmed the room and ended in a set of stairs that led up to a wall blank wall.

Sneeze once again showed off his ever improving grasshopper impression by jumping from the door to the ledge. The rest of us who are not so insecure we need to show off every minute of the day (or for everyone else, who couldn’t actually get both feet off the ground at the same time without falling down the stairs) waited for a rope to be tied off and climbed the short distance.

Despite the old ‘stairs leading to a secret door’ trick (once again I’m unimpressed by the wind-dukes creativity) Grim suggested we head down the waterfall straight away. Paying our usual amount of attention to one of his drunken comments we headed up the stairs. The door led into a short room covered in red ice and housing six statues, all with cupped hands held out in front of them. Hovering above the hands of all but one of these were statuettes of buildings. As we neared the empty handed statue I spotted that it was standing in front of a door just before the portcullis dropped from the ceiling above me.

Sunday 23rd Wealsun 595 cont.

With the wind blowing through the corridor at a rate more akin to that of Grim’s post beer farts only not quite as toxic, we moved quickly along the corridor which opened up into a far less gusty room that had a few bizarre features. Just to the right of the entrance and ahead next a set of double doors, were masses of spikes that were protruding from the floor in all directions. Two other double doors on either side of the room stood behind shallow depressions in the floor. The walls were covered in frescos depicting the tall androgynous humanoids we’ve come to know as the wind-dukes. Interspersed in these pictures were the same holes although the noise was a lot quieter and deeper than in the corridor. The floor was criss-crossed with shallow trenches that seemed designed to carry water that was long dried up.

I was just about to step into the room when Grim stopped me. He said that he believed it might be trapped. After a search of the area around the entrance I saw no trigger mechanism and so Grim confidently stepped out into the room. On hindsight I think too confidently. How did he know there was a trap there? How did he resist the wind that should have thrust him into the bed of spikes? Why did he make me look for traps in a place where he knew I wouldn’t find any? Is he trying to make me look stupid? Is he trying to usurp me from my position in the group by embarrassing me in front of the others? What is his motive for this? I’m going to have to keep a very close eye on him.

With Grim’s help (obviously furthering his plot against me) we all made it past the trap and headed towards the door on our right. As I stepped into the curved depression in front of it a mist like vapour started to rise around me and spread along the frescos seemingly bringing them to life. The pictures showed the Wind-duke called Icosiol at the battle of Peche, the same battle depicted in the four pictures that we saw below Zosiel’s burial chamber. As the animation continued we saw Icosiol seem to make a pact with a monstrously huge humanoid that looked like it had an axe-head through its skull (Muffin later identified it as a Marut-Inevitable – a little too easily I might add). The picture faded and reformed to show Icosiol holding a square seal and a rod that split into seven separate pieces.

It was at this point that I lost sight of the pictures as the mist gathered more thickly around me. Forced to inhale, my legs suddenly felt like lead and as quickly as it came, the mist disappeared leaving me with that sluggish feeling. Grim, who just happened to have prayed to Hanseath for the exact spell needed to restore my nimbleness, smugly came over and lay his hands on me. I thought twice about letting him cast the spell on me but I came to the conclusion that I need to be at my blistering best to hold off his challenge so for now I’ll use him to help me derail the prophecy before I deal with his treachery.

With my strength restored and the doors opened we stepped into a corridor that had another corridor intersecting it. The entire place was lit by six floating torches (one of which Muffin tried to steal but when he let it go the torch simply floated back to its original position). In the centre of the cross… corridors I guess, stood a statue of a wind-duke impassively holding a sword in one hand and a set of scales in the other.

I wonder how much Curly’s hair weighs? I bet it’s a lot. Maybe that’s the reason why he’s so dim – the hair puts too much pressure on his brain. I might do him a favour and shave it all off – that way I could put it on the scales and answer my original question although as Grim, who actually licked the statue, informed us, the entire thing was made of granite (apart from the mithril sword that is) so the scales wouldn’t actually work anyway. Guess I’ll have to find another way.

Anyway, as we were getting over the disgust of seeing Grim, who apparently will put anything in his mouth (I hadn’t thought it could get worse than the time at the Feral Dog when he started sucking at the bottom of the last barrel of Dwarfbane), lick an ancient statue I got a tingling on my neck hairs. Before I had the chance to warn anyone (not that I’m sure I should. I mean none of them warned me despite Sneeze’s obvious knowledge as he joined me in diving on the floor) as a fireball erupted around us. Looking up from the floor I spotted the door at the end of the corridor on our left ajar and a figure stepping back to try and avoid my gaze allowing a flickering light to stream through the gap.

I saw Grim start towards the door but suddenly come to a dead halt half way along the corridor which gave me the chance to overtake him and reach the room first although in hindsight this could have been a brilliant move on Grim’s part to try and get rid of me by legitimate means. I charged the door open only to release an inferno like heat that emanated from a huge moving mass of fire that was standing behind a not quite as huge, but still pretty big, fiery lizard with a very long spear (Muffin later revealed that it was a Noble Salamander).

The heat of the room stunned me as it hit although not quite as hard as the enormous fists of fire that struck immediately after. Sneeze ran in after me but such was the heat that his robes began to smoke before he even struck a blow. Curly showed his colours when he stayed behind to cast a spell on Grim to allow him to move again. And what did he do with this regained ability – he cast a spell of healing… on himself! Here I am nearly burned and bludgeoned to death and he goes and sees to his own wounds!

It was at this point Muffin moved in between myself, Grim and Sneeze and, with a single spoken word transported us back to the wind fuelled corridor. Not sure what to make of that particular tactic. I know Grim is attempting mutiny but at least I can respect the fact that he’s picked a side. How can you respect someone who’s content to just sit on the fence and see who comes out on top? Although if he hasn’t completely turned on me yet, maybe I can persuade him fully over to my side. That might even things up a bit what with Curly (who managed to find us without further incident) seemingly camped in Grim’s corner.

I allowed Grim to heal me. Once again as he lay his hands on me I could feel the energy coursing through my veins with the empowered feeling I’ve been experiencing ever since I overcame the Kyuss worm.

Tonight’s been awkward. We’ve spent the entire evening up what Muffin calls a Rope Trick. This of course meant I had to leave my haversack in the corridor below us and my watch is the first time I’ve had chance to come down and write.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why am I feeling this way about people that I’ve stood beside in battle time and again? About people that have shown me nothing but honour and respect and taught me about a world beyond the physical and how to access that world through the power of the gods? Even now with my mind fully aware that what I’m feeling is wrong, I still have those feelings. I know that Grim isn’t plotting against me.

So why this infectious feeling? It must be something to do with the worm. It has to be. But I’d read the scriptures, I performed the absorption to the letter. I should have control over it! Is it possible that I’m not strong enough to handle the worm and it is slowly taking control of me? I need to think on this. Hopefully I can get some uninterrupted sleep and see what the morrow brings.

Moonday 24th Wealsun 595

Today’s been quite… interesting. Not sure where to begin so I suppose I’ll start at the beginning:

After I finished my watch last night I managed to get to sleep surprisingly easily although it wasn’t the peaceful sleep I’d hoped for. I dreamt I was back in the Free City under the Champions Arena in the room where we slew the Ulgurstasta although this time it was empty. As I looked around I felt a sudden sharp pain in my stomach. I ripped open my shirt just in time to see my skin rip open and, in a spray of blood, a Kyuss worm erupted out and onto the floor. I fell to the ground and back away from the creature that was now starting to grow and soon reached a size that filled the entire chamber, squeezing me tight against the wall. Just as I thought the pressure would cave my rib cage in we were suddenly in the spacious arena above. The creature reared its massive body up and seemed to look down on me. With a scream that showed row after row of razor sharp teeth it plunged towards me. In my dream I remember closing my eyes and hoped for a swift death that didn’t come. I gathered enough courage to open my eyes to see the large worm lying motionless on the floor. On top of it crawled two other worms that quickly devoured the beast before one started devouring the other. When only one colossus worm remained I was once again fixed with the creature’s almost lifeless gaze. Slowly the worm crawled towards me and wrapped its mouth around my feet. Unable to move I closed my eyes to shut out the pain before realising that I wasn’t feeling any. I opened my eyes once more only to find that it wasn’t the worm eating me but a smaller humanoid figure which looked up. I found myself looking into my own eyes for what seemed like an age before my other self nodded and smiled as he continued on where the worm had stopped. Still no pain came instead I was overcome with a feeling of what I can only describe as contentment. It was as my other self opened its mouth to consume the last of my body that I awoke feeling more refreshed than I have in a long time.

I’m not a hundred percent sure what the dream means and until I do, I’m not going to rush into doing anything. Which is kind of ironic considering what spell Muffin cast on us before heading back into battle with the salamander and elemental. Grim and Muffin spent almost half an hour after breakfast discussing and casting spells on themselves, each other and the rest of us the last of which doubled how quick we could move.

As soon as Muffin finished this incantation we charged the door. I say we but once more Grim was stopped dead in his tracks by some sort of trap and Curly was once again forced to cast a spell on him in order to dispel the dweomer. So once again myself and Sneeze were the first into battle. The elemental was at the front protecting the Salamander but Sneeze managed to acrobatically tumble past the creature leaving it at my mercy. I stood head to toe against the monster but fear didn’t even enter my mind. With the added speed given to me by Muffin and the blessing that Grim had placed on all our weapons I ripped into the heart of the fiery beast with a flurry of blades so quick that even I almost missed it and smote it back to whatever hell it had come from (Muffin also cast some kind of spell on it but he was miles away from it and in absolutely no danger so personally I don’t think that counts). I was just about to unleash my fury on the Salamander when the creature threw down its weapon and hissed its surrender. Sneeze gave it the old ‘Salty wake up call’ so we could decide what to do with it.

After much deliberation (and by that I mean arguments and threats and a little fisticuffs during which I checked out the chest we’d found at the back of the room – didn’t contained much: some money, jewels, a wand designed to turn people invisible and three bottles of very expensive liquor which Grim instantly recognised as ‘Efreet Brandy’) it was decided that we’d wake the creature and question it about the area before banishing it back to its own dimension, by death if necessary.

Not sure if pouring a whole waterskin of the wet stuff over a fire demon is the ideal way of waking it up but it did the trick. We explained our terms to the salamander who, when faced with the idea of a painful death plus (apparently) a hundred years of banishment on its home-plane or give us info about the area and get a nice fluffy cloud ride home without the hard time, hissed up info about the rooms across from us. He said that beyond the next room was a wraith on one side, a load of xorn’s (deep earth dwelling creatures) on the left and a couple of unidentified creatures somewhere about. Somehow the creature managed to draw us a map without burning the parchment

With a ‘Thank-you and goodnight’, Grim banished the demon and we mostly ignored everything it said (although Curly, bless his naïve heart, thinks he could have been telling the truth) and headed to the far end of the main corridor only to be greeted by the stupidest position ever for a false door. I mean come on! I thought these wind-dukes were meant to be a superior species and they’re putting false doors in at the end of a fifty foot corridor that must have taken who knows how long and cost Hanseath knows how much to build! They didn’t even trap it! Amateurs!

That left only one more option on this side of the spiky wind trapped room – the way the salamander said. The salamander at least had drawn this part of the map right (but then again it’s not a stretch to put a room beyond a door at the end of a corridor) and we stepped out into an unusual room. The room was almost like a pit with the entrance being at the bottom. Stairs to the left and right led up to a walkway that rimmed the basin below. Doors led off the walkway on the three sides it rimmed. The room was lit by four chandeliers although from the light they were giving off the room should have been brighter. In the centre of the chandeliers was a black sphere the presence of which was made more ominous when I got to the top level and got a better look at the light fittings; they had the same shapes and symbols as the Amulet of the Sphere that Muffin was at that exact time holding up to the ceiling and, in the most pathetic effort at a commanding voice I’ve ever heard (and that includes the time that Curly tried to order Grim not to drink), ordered the sphere to come towards him… now I know I’ve been off form lately but even I know that commanding anything called a ‘Sphere of Annihilation’ to come towards you is a bad, terrible and outright dumb thing to do. Fortunately the sphere didn’t move. It did, however, detect as type of magic that conjured things into existence.

Whilst all this was going on Sneeze had moved into the base of the room where he announced that the walls were covered in more frescos that was telling a story which we didn’t get the chance to hear as Sneeze screamed like Muffin did when he got caught in a light rain. Give him his due thought, he had a good excuse; he’d stepped on what was identified as a massive black-pudding. On the announcement of this, Grim jumped of the ledge and hacked away at it with all the vigour he normally attacks a full cooked breakfast (he did look kinda disappointed that there wasn’t any bacon and eggs to go with it). However all he actually did was to split the entire thing in two and spurt acid all over himself and his weapons and armour. At this point I have to give a huge amount of respect to Sneeze; despite this knowledge he pummelled into that thing, or rather those two things, with his bare hands. Truly he has more guts and less regard for his own physical wellbeing than any person I’ve ever met and I’ve bore witness to Grim’s eating habits. I mean even I stopped hitting hit when my mace and hammer dissolved (wasn’t about to risk using my kukris on them – they cost a ruddy fortune and I’m not that far gone… yet).

The desserts succumbed before the acid completely ate through Sneeze’s arms and whilst Grim sorted out his injuries we managed to get a better look at the story. It seemed to show a succession of demons succumbing to the wind-dukes but there were two that showed something different; one depicted a host of wind-dukes holding out amulets as if to ward off a field of floating black orbs and the other showed a marut-inevitable reaching for a square object being held by a group of glowing creatures. No idea what that’s all about and I have to be honest, I don’t actually care. This whole place is starting to annoy me. Well not exactly this place but more the fact that we’re forced to waste time searching for Shrub-beard so he can give us the information we need regarding his master and where we can find him as Legless wasn’t considerate enough to leave that tid-bit for us before he was brutally murdered.

With everyone sorted we decided to check out the door to the right. Unsurprisingly the map the salamander drew didn’t match, although this itself put us on edge as to what might be down here. A short downward sloping corridor led out into a room containing two double doors each guarded by a pair of large, ominous looking statues and another single door. Identical chandeliers to the previous room illuminated this room. With an uneasy feeling running through the entire group, I decided it would be best to investigate elsewhere before venturing forth into this room.

The door opposite opened into a very ornate room the focal point of which was a large red urn with gold decorations. The arched ceiling depicted two entwined lovers and four chairs stood in each corner. Muffin detected magical emanations coming from one of four boxes at the rear of the room and from the top of the urn. The boxes contained various jewels and gems coupled with a wand that apparently makes people more attractive (Muffin’s eyes lit up at this news – I think he thinks he’d have a better chance with Tira if he were better looking… poor deluded fool). A bit worried about what I determined was a magical trap on the urn, we retreated out of the room whilst Sneeze took pot-shots at it with javelins. After several frustrating minutes he eventually hit a bulls-eye and smashed the urn open, an action which sent a ray of energy hurtling towards him. Sneeze was quick enough to dodge it and the rest of us were quick enough to run and check for what treasures it encased. On hindsight we should have figured out that it contained the ashes of two long dead lovers but hey, I’ve had other things on my mind.

With this anticlimactic outcome we decided to rest up before we went into the statues of death room… I mean the room with the statues guarding the doors that are bound to animate and kill us… the statues that is, not the doors… I’m pretty sure we could take a group of animated doors.

Freeday 21st Wealsun 595 cont.

Turns out that the others weren’t as interested in the Feral Dog as I was (even Grim seemed less than enthusiastic) and were more concerned with Shrub-beard’s whereabouts so before heading into town we decided to stop off at his mansion; and by mansion I mean big pile of rubble. The whole house was now shorter than me and half melted. It reminded me of the time me and Grim crashed that wedding and he sat on the three tiered cake before letting one rip. Good times!

Anyway we concluded that there was no way that Shrub-beard was here so we turned and started towards the town centre. As we set off a figure appeared on the road ahead coming our way. I fingered the hilts of my weapons as we got closer until suddenly Salty started running towards the man. At first I thought that her desperation to be with me (or any man for that matter) had finally got the best of her but her screams of “Dad” were filled with genuine affection rather than the moans of a dirty, naughty girl addressing her sugar lover.

So anyway it turns out that this guy was actually Salty’s dad (and here’s me having thought that she must be an orphan or at least some kind of summoned creature) and he’d been trying to track her down for a number of weeks (he’d apparently just missed us in the Free City). He’d come with bad news; her mother was dying. She’d contracted some kind of wasting disease that even the best clerics and medicine men were unable to cure. Her mother (selfish as it sounds) had asked that Salty, her only child, could come and see her one last time before she leaves this mortal coil. I have to say I was genuinely moved by the story, unlike Sneeze who less than sympathetically pointed out that we’re on a quest to save the entire world from destruction and that the feelings and wishes of one dying person were of no consequence in the grand scheme of things.

Due to the utter shock of that remark I forget exactly what happened next but I think it involved a slap, some hugs, a bucket of tears and I’m pretty sure a squeeze of my ass before Salty and her pepper, sorry, papa rode off into the midday sun. I guess I’ll miss her but it’ll probably be the best thing for her. It’ll give her time away from the object of her unfrequented affection and let her feelings fade slightly (or at least enough for one of those home town boys to take advantage of her vulnerable state).

With the red marks both mine and Sneeze’s cheeks fading we headed into the town proper to assess the damage. Fortunately there was very little apart from the Emporium which had been levelled. The clerics of St Cuthbert had set up a shelter for the wounded and dying and just one look at their faces sent Curly into a guilt ridden depression. Somehow he felt it was all our fault and that we should put it right by seeking out and killing the dragon. I know he’s a bit slow but I’m pretty sure I already said that’s what we were going to do, although it’s nice to see that he’s behind me.

Curly was all for going after it right now but it was decided that with a foe as fearsome as a dragon it would be prudent for us to find out as much as we could about it and for Muffin and Grim to make sure they’d read up or prayed on some spells that could help us. Curly sulkingly agreed and set about trying to wrangle some help from the St Cuthbites who managed to scrounge together a couple of potions that would protect us against the serpents acid breath and a couple that would allow us to fly and guess what; they gave us a ten percent discount on the purchase. Just the thought of those self-righteous morons is bringing back all the anger. We’re risking our lives to slay a dragon and they’re charging us!

I had to leave and get a drink and so I stormed off to the Feral Dog (which was thankfully still standing) and walked in to find the place busier than I’d ever seen it. Tak spotted me and called me over, sliding a tankard my way. We chatted for a bit which allowed me to calm myself. As I got started on my second I spotted one of the Sheriff’s men. Wanting to find out more about the attack and the whereabouts of our benefactor I helped myself to another tankard and plonked myself down in the recently vacated seat next to him. As he supped he spoke of what had happened:

“The black dragon struck without warning. Its first onslaught was directed at Allustan’s house which he destroyed before seeming to search the carnage. I arrived with the second wave of militia to find most of the first troop dead and the dragon clutching a bloodied man in each claw demanding in a raspy voice to know where the master of the house was. One of the men, Dernon, gods have mercy, was barely able to wheeze his answer before the dragon tore him asunder. The dragon then flew off across the town flying straight through the Emporium before disappearing from sight.”

I pressed the obviously distraught man for the location that his friend had given before leaving him and his still full tankard to his grief; The Whispering Cairn!

So it seems we are to go back to where it all began. Funny how things work out!

I looked around the bar and at all the sullen faces and decided that it was my job, as indeed it once was, to cheer everyone up. I stood on the bar and banged two tankards together to gain the silence I desired.

“Friends of Diamond Lake” I began “I know that the town has been ravaged and that you are all rightfully living in terror of the beast that has laid waste to this town and to so many of your friends and family. But I am here to tell you that you no longer have to live in fear. That you can all dare to hope and dream once more for I, Deree Silentfoot, and my band of Daring Dynamos are here and I promise to any god you would wish to name that we will find this dragon and we will slay it!”

My words did do what I intended but not in the way that I intended it. My arms aloft in anticipation of the cheers and shouts that such a rousing speech warranted, I was instead greeted by a brief moment of silence before laughter erupted throughout the building. I’d have been annoyed but I got a load of free drinks off a lot of the patrons. Apparently it’s the first time anyone’s laughed since the attack.

Starday 22nd Wealsun 595

Not sure how much sleep I got last night and not for a good reason either. I couldn’t sleep. Anytime I did I had dreams about worms. I woke up in a sweat each time and each time had a desperate need for… for something. I’d had my fill of drink and food and neither satisfied the ache. I opened my magical haversack and sitting on top were the two remaining worm potions. Instantly I knew this was what I wanted. I uncorked one and placed the rim of the bottle to my lips. It was then that Grim staggered past my cart. Quickly I stoppered the potion and feigned sleep for the few seconds it took him to pass out on top of a none too plussed Lavender. I reached into the haversack once more and held the bottle once more. I wanted nothing more than to uncork it and feel the wonderful agony of that worm infesting my brain one more time. I held the bottle to the moonlight to see the worm inside when something caught my eye; another scar. It was only then that I remembered the sacrifice that went with this pleasure. It took all my strength to place the bottle back in my haversack and all my will to close my eyes once more.

I’m so drunk! I mean really drunk! I need to write down now what we did today because I’m not sure I’ll be able to do anything tomorrow. Or do I mean today? What time is it? Why am I asking a piece of paper? Maybe Grim knows.

Grim doesn’t know and I think he was a bit upset that I woke him. I’d ask Muffin but I have to be honest, I don’t want to. I don’t like him that much. Although I will have to admit that I do respect him a lot more after today. Or do I respect him less? I’ll read this back tomorrow and find out.

Anyway today we fought and killed a big, huge, massive black dragon and we kicked it’s big, huge, massive ass. It looked bad for a while, especially when Muffin disappeared with Grim leaving me, Sneeze and Curly (who looked kind of like a flying tin of… human in his armour all flying about really slowly in his suit of armour. I say slowly but he could have been moving really fast but not compared to that dragon. Wow, that thing could move.

I suppose I should really try to start at the tart. Hee hee hee; start at the tart! That’s what Grim does at a banquet. Anyway, me and Sneeze decided we should sneak up to the entrance of the Whispering Cairn and see if we could see a big, huge, massive black dragon shaped thing in or around it. We couldn’t. So you’ll understand that it came as a big, huge, massive surprise when it appeared behind us and breathed a line of black acid towards Curly, Muffin and Grim who took it all in their stride. Oh yeah, those three had taken them potions that would protect them from the breath weapon. Muffin responded by, and I quote, “channelling a lot of my magical energy into a spell in order to make it more powerful”. All I know is I heard a big bang and the dragon got pissed. It flew over to them and bit and clawed and flapped its wings at them. Funny thing was that the more it mauled Muffin, the more it seemed to injure Grim. After it had done that, me, Sneeze and Curly set to work on the underbelly of the beast. Did I mention it was hovering just off the ground? Well it was! Well we whacked on it before it struck out again (it got me with one of its wings) hitting Grim and Muffin who moments later disappeared (wimps) from sight which was bad as the dragon then turned its attention onto the rest of us. We handled it ok, especially when, after another loud bang, it flew up in the air and breathed another line of acid towards Grim and Muffin who’d just appeared... over there. Down a bit from the entrance. Towards the town! Anyway, Curly flew after it but as I said, the dragon was very fast and curly was very slow, in all senses of the word. This didn’t matter as the severe wounds I’d caused it coupled with the little bits that Muffin and the others had put in (including stealing the killing blow with yet another spell – that one that that produces the lightning.. not sure which one.. it was blue and streaky and looked like lightning) the beast fell like Curly’s perm in a light drizzle.

Although the dragon dying was great, me and Grim weren’t satisfied. Between us we chopped off its head and slit open its belly to see if Shrub-beard was inside. Not sure if he was or wasn’t as there was a lot of partially dissolved bodies in there – well not in there now; they spilled out on the ground (there not even there now – Curly spent his night digging graves).

With the absence of Shrub-beard in the dragons stomach we figured he must be in the cairn somewhere so we went and had a look. It wasn’t the same as last time. As we went in one of the corridors that had been collapsed was now not collapsed. The rubble had been moved and at the end was a shiny black thing with a circular door in the middle of it. Muffin said it was probably a portal. I tell you, that guy’s a genius! I never would have guessed that! Curly chucked a coin at it and it disappeared through the surface of the shiny part which rippled.

People weren’t really interested in going in what with being beaten up by the dragon and all so we decided to check out the rest of the cairn which turned out to still be the same as when we left last time.

It was at this point that we decided that there was nothing left to do but go and show all those people who didn’t believe in me and my band of Daring Dynamos just what we can do! So we did! Well me and Grim and Muffin did, Curly and Sneeze stayed behind to bury the bodies and keep an eye on the portal. We walked into the Feral Dog with the head which scared half the patrons initially (there were a couple of suspicious “spills” which needed cleaning up) but after my rendition of how we slaughtered the scourge of the town I received the cheers that my groups efforts truly deserved.

The rest of the night was spent drinking and singing songs (more than a few about me and my group I might add) and eating and drinking and then staggering back to the cairn where I’m about to go to sleep. Or do I mean pass out? I’ll let you know.

Sunday 23rd Wealsun 595

Pass out!

I’d never noticed it before but Curly’s voice is quite possibly the most annoying thing in the world to wake up to. I’d rather be woken up by one of Sneeze’s punches (which, by the way my head’s pounding, may have also happened).

Anyway Curly was trying to explain to Grim (who couldn’t possibly have heard through the pillow he had wrapped around his head) that he and Sneeze had been talking last night (not sure which one of them I feel more sorry for) and they had come to the conclusion that the portal was probably linked to the Wind Dukes. This revelation was only made shocking by the fact that it hadn’t come from Muffin, the master of “State the obvious”.

Well as we’d all rested (in theory) Sneeze pushed for us to go through the portal. I muttered agreement and helped Curly drag Grim to his feet whilst Sneeze impatiently moved to the portal. As he touched it he reeled in pain. At first I thought he must be reliving some of the conversation he’d had with Curly last night but he screamed that there was something in the portal. My hangover immediately gone I sprung though the black surface and found myself floating in a substance that looked a lot like the substance that drools out of Grim’s mouth when he’s sleeping. I recognised the gangly limbed clawed beast that was causing Sneeze distress; an Abyssal Ghoul.

Being hardly able to move let alone strike at the beast I decided to exit the other side. I stepped out into a corridor that resembled the entrance to the Whispering Cairn though the holes on either side of the walls that piped out the eerie whispers in the Cairn positively shouted with the power of the wind being forced through them. I turned to strike out at the ghoul when I spotted a black cloud (or rather several clouds) in the distance. However what concerned me was the fact that it was moving towards me, against the wind. A bit worried about what impending doom was coming towards me I tried to call the others through but I couldn’t even hear my own voice above the wind.

Quickly the smoke started to form into what would later be identified as six Belkers. I have to be honest, they even terrified me at first – that was until they struck out at me. I say struck out but I’ve seen more venom in one of Muffin’s girly slaps.

After I easily dodged the blows from the elementals that had surrounded me, I turned my attention back to the ghoul. From this side of the portal I could see that Curly had gone through the portal and was currently stuck in the goop with the ghoul. He was struggling pass through to my side but the Belkers had blocked the exit. With Curly and the others focussing on the ghoul I decided to try and make space for them on this side. I set about slashing away and within moments the others were able to step through and the Belkers soon faded back to smoke beneath our blades.

Hello there folks.

Yup that's right - back by unpopular demand it's 'Deree's Diary'.
Have just had our first session back after playing games as varied as 'Weapons of the Gods', 'Savage Tide' and 'Pimp: The Backhanding' (ok the latter is a card game but i thought it warranted a mention).

Firstly i must apologise a bit for the first part of the diary - it's a bit nyah due to one of our players moving back to the good ol' US of A and us trying to come up with a way of the character leaving without the rest of us robbing all their magic items and/or going completely off track so i hope you can forgive us for that. As for the rest, i hope you enjoy it and i hope i haven't lost touch with the character too much.

As always i welcome your comments and suggestions, good or bad, and thank you all for taking the time to read it.

Yours

Steve (aka Deree)

During Savage tide after explaining an idea to an NPC who didn't seem to understand:

"I would suggest to you that next time you reach a level divisible by 4, you invest in a point of INT."

It's in the 5th post - only realised i'd mucked up after posting loads more of the diary.

Thanks for reading

Deree

We've had this situation a couple of times (admitedly in Cthulu with people (ok me) playing a low san (8) assassin and one of the PC's p***ing him off and then, when he has the gun pointing in his face saying "what are you gonna do, kill me?" plus some other less memorable occasions, and the way we get round it is by people role-playing. I feel in that situation i played my character but so did other people and i was soon no more. That's the get out clause with this type of thing - players playing their character. If one pc kills another for no good/justifiable reason in the other pc's eyes then they should reap the consequesnces and the players should feel free to dish them out.

The main problem is what rogue in his right mind would even attempt to disarm it when a wizard of the same level has failed to dispell it on several really good rolls.

As i said unless you happen to have a rogue who's taken specific feats and has maxed out on disable device and has a bard to help and maybe another rogue to aid another and has masterwork tools and has any synergy bonus' there are - it is pretty much impossible to disarm - even then i don't rate the chances.

25% chance is a very generous estimate - unless you mean there might be a 25% chance that the rogue doesn't get sucked into the trap.

Our group ended up blasting the chest up from a distance with lightning bolt (taking the chance that things inside would pass saves) and the like as we'd tried to dispel it, rolled a 19 (on the die) and failed thus figuring there was basically no way of doing it at this level by conventional means. The rogue wasn't going anywhere near it as, from previous experience in this adventure path, really bad things can, scratch that, DO happen when you mess around with magic traps.

This trap is simply wrong for this level of adventure and shouldn't be in it at all especially when you actually find out what's inside it (which begs the question if there isn't anything amazingly valuable in it, why would someone go to all this trouble?). If the players have no way of getting round it at all - even with maxed out skills/feats coupled with thinking outside the box (pun intended) etc - then it shouldn't be included. What is the point of having a rogue or wizard who's job it is to get past this kind of thing if the adventure basically condems them to death for even attempting it? Yes make it hard, just don't make it impossible

Just my (and the group i play with's) opinion

Thank you for the comments; i'm very honoured and flattered by them.

As i say, all being well the campaign should start again sometime near the middle of next year (personally i can't wait but i can well understand the GM's need for a break) and i'll definately be carrying on with the diary when it does.

Thanks once more

Steve

Sadly i regret to inform you that this will be the last entry of Deree's Diary... for the time being! Our GM is taking a well earned rest from running and will probably resume in about six months or so. We'll be playing other games such as Deadlands, Cyberpunk and Red Hand of Doom in between - no diaries for these though (unless another of my group takes them up - it's my final year in uni, gimme a break).

Thank you for reading and i hope you have enjoyed the journey thus far as much as i have. Special thanks to TK for putting me on his list of favourite threads - it gave me a huge boost.

Waterday 26th Flocktime 595 cont.

Muffin took this as an opportunity to suggest a shopping trip. He claimed it was to buy more potions that could turn people gaseous but personally I think he’s trying to slake his cravings. We decided that whilst he was out there he may as well make himself useful and sell the stuff we’d found as well. We figured we’d only need a couple of potions as Muffin would be able to transport himself, Grim and Curly in and I could squeeze through the pipe leaving only Salty and Sneeze needing the potions. I also asked him to buy me that potion that would enable me to read the scrolls. If no one else is willing to do it then I guess I’m going to have to.

A few hours later (Hanseath knows what he’s been doing) Muffin returned saying that he’d sold everything but the three potions we’d found in the chest. The shop keeper had said that there were worms in them. On closer inspection we discovered that they were the green worms that infest the spawn of Kyuss.

When I suggested that we go in straight away, the blue haired wimp started complaining that he didn’t have enough spell casting ability to help combat the worm effectively (I must be missing his point) and that we should wait until tomorrow before we attempted any kind of strike. Personally I was up for going in right then and there (especially as the creature seemed to be growing in size and strength at a rate that was almost visible to the naked eye) but the others seemed to think that Muffin was right.

I’m not sure I understand these people anymore. I thought they were meant to be heroes. I thought they were meant to be loyal and faithful if not to me or the group then at least to their gods. Even Curly, the “mighty” warrior of Heironeous; does he have such little faith, such little conviction in what we’re doing that he wants to wait until it’s possibly too late? If he cannot show confidence in his beliefs and what we’re doing then how can I expect the others to do so? I thought we were trying to stop not only our assassin but the leader of a deadly evil cult that pay homage to the undead, the champion of which seemed to be resting, and growing in power even as I write.

But as much as I am disappointed with them, I’m almost ashamed of Grim. How can I follow the teachings of a man whose faith seems less than my own? The strength of my belief seems to have outgrown his. I will forever be thankful for his teachings but maybe it’s time that I started to find my own way in our worship of Hanseath.

Earthday 27th Flocktime 595

The games start today. Grim seemed a bit peeved that he won’t get the chance to compete but I believe this to be but a small punishment for his lack of conviction.

I awoke early and roused everyone. I was anxious that we defeat this creature as soon as possible and, despite the unnecessary complaints about if they were going to die they should do it on a full stomach (yet another show of their lack of faith), forced the issue before breakfast.

I crawled to the end of the pipe and waited for Muffin to transport himself and the two religious warriors past the block only to be called back as Muffin had been unable to penetrate the room. He said that the effect was much like a magical wall of energy that seemed to be surrounding the room. I went back to the end of the pipe and sure enough there was an invisible barrier blocking the end.

Struggling for ideas Grim said that he could ask Hanseath for a divination about what we should do. It seems that his faith may still be pure as Hanseath deemed him worthy of a response. Our god informed us that we could weaken the magical energy surrounding the block by a show of faith but there could be consequences if our conviction was lacking.

At this myself, Grim and Curly stepped towards the door. We held aloft our holy symbols and, as Grim had taught me, I started to try and channel the positive energy that surrounds every living thing through me and towards our obstacle. At first there was nothing but suddenly a rush of power surged through me. I could almost feel the touch of Hanseath on me and I have to admit, the shock made me falter.

As suddenly as it had appeared, the power left me and with it seemed to take some of my energy; my punishment for failing. Grim read a spell of a scroll that returned my full strength and with it a renewed determination. Once more I stepped up flanked on either side by Curly and Grim and once more I lifted my tankard towards the worm carved blockade. Once more I felt the energy. Once more the hand of Hanseath touched me; but this time I was prepared. This time I could focus. This time I did not keep the energy in me too long, for the touch of a god is too much for anyone to bear. This time I channelled the energy through me and out of my holy symbol and directed it to its target. This time my faith was rewarded and the green beam of energy faded into almost nothing.

At this point, with the magical essence weakened, Muffin cast his spell to dispel the magic and suddenly the block disappeared leaving only the room beyond and the now stirring undead worm.

Muffin sent a ball of fire exploding into the room which only served to anger the beast. It reared up to its monstrous full height and struck out like a viper and caught me in its mouth. I stabbed my dagger into its tongue in a desperate attempt to prevent myself being swallowed whole but the worm simply flicked its head back throwing me to the back of its throat where with a single gulp I was forced down into blackness the likes of which I’d never seen before.

I splashed into what must have been its stomach acid. As I resurfaced I became aware of a presence around me. I wasn’t alone in here; there were several other creatures around me. With the acid slowly burning through my clothes and making a start on my skin, I had no time to contemplate this. I simply started slashing in the dark praying that I’d be able to cut my way free. My efforts were all in vain. The acid continued to burn and I felt myself being overcome by the horrific fumes when suddenly what felt like an earthquake started. A second later the light rushed up to great me as I was ejected (ok, I was puked up) from the creature and thrown all the way out of the room and into the alter that held the scrolls.

As I stood up I discovered what the other presences had been as I found myself surrounded by skeletons and spawn of Kyuss. It was then that Grim showed me the strength of his faith by raising his tankard towards the undead destroying the skeletons and sending the spawn of Kyuss fleeing in terror; easy meat for myself, Sneeze and Salty. It was also then that I spotted Curly, who was standing alone against the ulgurstasta constantly offering prayers to Heironeous, struck out with a fearsome blow and felled the creature that would have literally eaten me for breakfast.

It is these actions that have made me reassess faith. Obviously both Grim and Curly have been deemed worthy by their deities. Maybe it is I who has gone away from what faith is all about. Have I become a zealot? Am I becoming one of those crazed St Cuthbertites? I am new to this faith thing so maybe I should take a step back and take a good look at what I’m doing and saying. I think Grim still has much to teach me.

Anyway as the fight ended the scrolls fell from where they had been standing in stasis and collapsed onto the altar, the spell on them obviously gone. I wasted little time and immediately picked them up and gulped down the potion, reading even as Grim healed my wounds. What I read at first seemed disturbing. The others almost went ashen at the words. The scrolls spoke of the evil in the ground awakening and consuming the world. It spoke of the inevitable victory and the coming of the age of worms. It spoke of doom and destruction and how all living beings would fall victim to the power beneath us.

Those were my initial thoughts. But as I transcribed it into my native tongue, I discovered something more. The power it spoke of that every living creature would be consumed by wasn’t the power of undeath: it was the power of the worm. The worms that infected the living and turned them into the living dead held more than just that power. For those strong enough they could be used to harness not only the evil essence of death but also the righteous power of good. The worms themselves aren’t evil; they simply turn those who aren’t strong enough to handle them.

However the worms contain more than just this energy. They contain knowledge about Kyuss and its minions. It is with this knowledge that they corrupt the living. The weak succumb easily but those who are strong enough can harness this power, can gain this knowledge and turn it against the wielder and cause its ultimate demise.

I now know why all the things in my life have happened. Why I was asked to go to Diamond Lake, why I came to team up with this group of people, why I was kidnapped, why Hanseath saved me and why I was swallowed by the ulgurstasta; it was so I could get to this point and understand the power that is being offered to me.

I can’t tell the others, they wouldn’t understand. Curly believes whole heartedly that the worms are a disease that needs to be cured, Muffin is too self-obsessed to see the truth, Sneeze is to pure to comprehend the possibility, Salty is too naïve to see past the literal meaning of the scrolls and Grim… well Grim would see it as an affront to the purity of the faith to try and use the power of undeath to further its cause.

No this is something I have to do alone and in secret. If the others found out they would not only try and stop me; I believe they would try and kill me.

Whilst the others were distracted with finding evidence to use against Lightboobs I took the worm-ridden potions from Muffins pack. I said that I would scout out the stairs beyond the secret door we’d found. They all thought this was a good idea and Muffin even cast an invisibility spell on me.

I got to the top of the stairs which led into a wine cellar and stopped. I took out one of the potions and poured it out onto my hand, the liquid running off onto the floor, until the small worm sat in my hand. Not wanting to think about it long enough to lose my nerve I offered a small prayer to Hanseath before placing the worm on my tongue.

I didn’t have to swallow it; the worm penetrated the roof of my mouth before I had the chance. A pain worse than the most severe of hangovers shot sharply into my brain. I wanted to bang my head against the wall until I was unconscious just to make the pain stop but I knew that this would only serve the worms purpose. I sank to my knees and punched the floor to try and regain my focus. I could feel the worm moving about, seeking a place where it could rest and begin its slow corruption of my body and soul. I felt it and battled; my will against its instinct. I felt the worm slowly cease its search. The pain started to fade and as it waned completely I felt the worm die.

It was then, not even realising that I’d closed them, that I opened my eyes to see the small pool of blood I was sitting in. My nose, mouth and even eyes had tracks of blood running from them which had ceased to flow. I quickly cleared this up before gathering myself and setting out to do what I’d said I would.

I moved out of the room I was in onto a corridor. To my right were three doors (which turned out to be cells one of which was occupied by a man who was either very drunk or very insane) and to my right was a room that I estimated to be situated above the ulgurstasta.

Off this room were three other corridors. One led to what looked like a leather works, one to a guard room and the other to a bestiary. In this room were six cells that contained large animals of all kinds. There was a corridor off this but that led to a small hallway with stairs and corridors heading off it in all directions. I decided it would be best to head back and tell the others what I’d found.

As I moved about I started to feel a weird, well, feeling. I could feel an energy flowing inside me much like that when I had been trying to weaken the block of doom, only this time it didn’t gather in one place threatening to explode; it flowed through me like water in a stream. It felt natural, it felt right. I had to force the grin off my face in case the others suspected anything was wrong (or if not wrong at least different) before I got to the bottom of the stairs.

The others had not been idle whilst I’d been gone. Despite not being able to find any evidence to directly link Lightboobs to the cult (other than the corridor leading to his house), they had come up with a plan that must have taken all their combined brain power: we were going to wait up a rope trick until Lightboobs came down and then jump him. The plan sounded fine in principle and so I agreed. Plus it should give me time to explore this new power.

Freeday 28th Flocktime 595

Bored now! Need to do something! It’s lunchtime already and nothings happened.

Why doesn’t Muffin decorate this room and why does he create it at the top of a rope? Maybe it’s the fun watching Grim and Curly try and climb up.

They all know! I know they know but I don’t know if they know I know they know. Or do they? If they do their playing it really calm. They must do! But how can they? Maybe Selanor made one of them invisible and they followed me. But then again I was invisible so they couldn’t have seen me. And plus none of them have the ability to sneak up on me. But then again I was in a lot of pain and that may have distracted me. Nope, none of them could fool me. If they knew, I’d know! They definitely do not know. Do they?

Raknian has just been and is now gone. He came underneath us obviously looking for his cleric and we jumped out on him. I have to admit that he was tougher than I had thought but we slew him and the three so called guards he brought with him. One of them even tried to stab me in the back but he saw death on the end of my sword.

Just read what I’ve written and wondering when did I become so sullen? I didn’t even mention Grim nearly falling out from that extra-dimensional room that Muffin created and any chance to get a cheap laugh from someone else’s incompetence is usually my first port of call. I also didn’t write about how Sneeze tripped Lightboobs up who then, instead of standing up like a normal person, proceeded to try and attack us from the floor. If I wasn’t so busy trying to kill him and his evil gang of henchmen then it would have been laughable. He kinda looked like a turtle on its back trying to right itself only he didn’t have a shell… and he had a sword in one hand… and armour on his front… ok he looked nothing like a turtle on its back!

On a more serious note; I can definitely feel that power surging through me. It was especially apparent when Grim cast a spell healing spell on me. I could feel the positive energy flowing so smoothly throughout my body taking the healing power straight to my wounds. It’s an unbelievable feeling. It was almost worth getting injured just to feel it.

Anyway, with Lightboobs and his minions dead I think it’s high time we took ourselves and the evidence above ground and joined in the festivities. Grim’s still disappointed that we were unable to enter the games and I have to admit a pang of regret myself, but that’s more to do with not having the opportunity to kick Orc-droppings backside all around the stadium than any actual reward or fame we’d have got from it.

Sadly my idea about leaving was met with mixed feelings. By which I mean everyone agreed except Curly. He thought it would be a good idea to for us to check more fully the rest of the caverns underneath the stadium to see if there were any more undead stragglers.

In a desperate attempt not to get wet I persuaded Grim to ask Hanseath to tell us if there was any or not. There was. However, sadly there was no way for him to tell us where under the stadium they were which meant that me, Salty and Sneeze had to get our swimming gear on (which looks surprisingly like our normal gear only damper) and start what seemed like an eternal trek through the underground labyrinth of narrow rocky passages in the hope that we would randomly come across pockets of undead.

The first cavern we came across was only small but it had some weird (what Muffin called) geometrical sketches on the wall (although he didn’t have a clue what they meant) with only one exit that was above ground. As we were already wet, we decided to carry on checking the underwater passages before signalling Muffin to teleport the others in.

Next we surfaced in a shallow pool that was housed in a very complex cave the most striking feature of which (other than the overwhelming stench of sweat) was the partitioned areas that were currently housing a number of rather large, mostly ugly people that seemed to care just a bit too much about their weapons and armour.

We left the coenoby and surfaced almost immediately in another large cavern. This one looked as though it had once housed an underground village. There were numerous houses in various states of disrepair carved into the rock and in its centre there was a ten foot high statue of a large man (Grim identified as a Titan) holding a big ass hammer. On one side of the room there was a passage that we could see led back into the coenoby, and on the other was another passage that had been blocked off.

We carried on our underwater search but the only things of note that we came across were a kitchen and the sewers (maybe “things of note” was the wrong term, although Grim did want to infiltrate the kitchen) so we decided to head back to the room with the patterns on the wall and (more importantly) the passage out.

Once we surfaced from the water, I led the other two along the passage until a smell I can only liken to the time that we let Curly loose in the kitchen of the Feral Dog washed over us. The source of this smell became apparent as we approached a cave; a pile of rotting flesh and bones in the middle of the floor. My wondering of how they actually got there was soon alleviated by another, even worse stench. Nine tight skinned bags of bones roused themselves from whatever slumber they were in and started moving towards us.

As the ghasts approached the three of us suddenly Muffin appeared on the other side of the room with Curly and Grim flanking him. Using the fact that our sense of smell has forever been dulled by our constant proximity to Grim, we managed to ignore the BO these creatures were giving off and made short work of them.

Whilst Muffin (in a desperate attempt to slake his addiction for treasure) searched through the bones, the rest of us checked out the two other passages leading out of this cavern. One Grim was pretty sure led back towards the titan village and the other had collapsed long ago.

With even Curly now satisfied that all the undead under the arena had been taken care of, it was now definitely time for us to leave. Muffin disappeared with the two bricks and Salty (via Lightboob’s temple to chop off and then pick up his and the flingy priest’s heads) leaving me and Sneeze to swim out in the cold, cold, ever so cold, water.

We eventually emerged into the night sky and trudged our way to the inn where the other four had spent the past hour and a half starting the celebration without us (although there isn’t much difference to a celebration if Sneeze is there or not). They didn’t even have a drink waiting for me. I trudged upstairs to change clothes and am half tempted not to go back down but my faith to Hanseath outweighs my annoyance with my group.

Starday 1st Wealsun 595

We headed down to the counsel chambers with the evidence we’d gathered only to be told that all the higher ups were at the games and that we should come back later. I am sick of this counsel. The moment my weapons are ready (I’ve put them in to be upgraded again. Seems like I’m forever doing this) I’m getting out of this godforsaken city and I hope it decays under its own filth and apathy.

We headed for the temple of Heironeous just to ensure they would support us should the counsel do their usual thing of ignoring everything we say. We told them our tale and they seemed concerned (although the counsel had seemed efficient at one stage) and offered their backing.

We were just about to leave and head for Legless’ to get him up to date, when one of the priests (on hearing our plan) stopped us. He informed us that Legless and his manservant had been assassinated a few days ago. He said that both had been garrotted and that currently there were no suspects.

I decided that we should head over anyway and see if we could find out anymore about what happened (basically because I think that anyone the counsel will have hired to investigate would either be incompetent or have another agenda).

We got past the guards outside the gate with a minimum of fuss (although I was very tempted to give them more fuss than they could deal with) and entered the house. Much to my surprise the place hadn’t been completely ransacked. Some of his stuff had gone but nothing any of us considered too major.

We only really found two things of note: firstly that Legless had been killed in his bed (there was a blood stain just under his pillow) and secondly we found a coffer that had a Legless’ notes about the age of worms prophecy along with a note addressed to Shrub-beard the privacy of which I respected about as much as I do the counsel. The note was short and simply asked that Shrub-beard take the notes to their one time master. The strange thing was that the letter was cut off mid-sentence. This raises the question of why? Personally it puts in doubt both the legitimacy of both the note and the murder. No-one half finishes a sentence and then goes to bed so either the murder didn’t happen the way it is portrayed or the note is a forgery.

Unsure what to trust we left and headed back to the counsel building and awaited the incompetents. They eventually arrived and we all piled into their chambers. I left it to the others to explain our findings; I was more intent on watching the counsellors. As Curly was monosyllabically describing our deeds I caught sight of one of the counsellors as he took a sip of his drink. It looked like a thick, dark red wine. It was only when it stained his lips and left a red moustache on his face that I recognised it for what it was: blood! The counsellor quickly wiped away the remnants with his sleeve. I looked at the other members of the ruling counsel and saw that all of them were drinking blood. One of them even poured himself a tankard full from one of the many jugs lining the tables.

I turned to see if anyone else had spotted it but only found more horror as Curly took a sip of his drink which dripped dark red onto his armour. My head no spinning I turned to the others only to find them drinking the dark viscous liquid. I felt my mouth go dry and my forehead to moisten. Salty must have seen my apprehension as she leaned towards me and took my cup and filled it up from the nearest jug. As she offered me the mug back, the smell of iron filled my nostrils. I knocked the cup from her hands sending the liquid spraying across the floor of the chambers. Suddenly all eyes were on me. It was only then, under the shocked gaze of everyone present that I saw that the liquid that had once filled my cup, and still filled everyone else’s, was clear; it was water.

I hurriedly left the chambers to get some badly needed fresh air. The others came out about an hour later and unsurprisingly wanted an explanation. I muttered something about their being a spider on Salty’s hand but they didn’t seem convinced. I can’t tell them the truth though; they’ll think I’m going crazy. Hell, I can’t blame them, not when I think they may be right.

Sunday 2nd Wealsun 595

Spent last night distracting myself and the others (especially Grim) with an impromptu victory drink and am paying for it this morning. I don’t know what went on last night but I’m guessing it must have been something good ‘cause I woke up with some deep scratches on my chest.

I think my hallucination yesterday must have been caused by the past few days catching up on me. That and the fact the counsel are a load of vampires sucking the life out of the city but hey, they did say that they’d check out our story (nice of them to believe us, we’ve only saved the city the three times now) and that if everything was as we said a nice reward would be ours.

I decided that as a few of us had sent our weapons off or placed orders for other magical paraphernalia (Sneeze ordered a magical belt for some bizarre reason) and that Muffin was salivating at the possibility that he’d have the few shops that had remained open during the games to himself that we should simply send a messenger to Shrub-beard regarding Legless and get him to come to us.

Moonday 3rd Wealsun 595

A “bad news, good news, bad news” day today.

Bad news: I woke up with another scar on my chest. This is weird ‘cause I know for a fact that nothing happened last night. I can remember everything (much to Grim’s chagrin; a dwarf trapped inside a barrel ‘cause he fell in trying to scoop the last bit of ale out with his tankard, whilst hilarious to, well pretty much anyone who isn’t that dwarf, is not so amusing to the dwarf in question) and I didn’t fall down any stairs or invite any strange women up to my bedroom (although Salty was dropping her usual hints). Will have to keep an eye on this situation and hope it doesn’t get any worse.

Good news: the counsel had checked out Lightboob’s house and underground temple and decided that we’d been right all along and promptly handed over a whole hundred platinum each. They also said that they’d found some notes in his house that made reference to a plan that should have come to fruition today whereby he’d have killed everyone in the arena (spectators and all) turning them all into undead and basically turning the entire city deader than Curly’s imagination.

Bad news: Orc-dropping somehow retained his stupid title which means that I’m going to have to put up with him boasting for another year about how great he thinks he is. It almost makes me wish we hadn’t foiled Lightboob’s plot. Sure we’d have had a city overrun with undead, but at least Orc-dropping would have been one of the first casualties.

Godsday 4th Wealsun 595

I woke up with another scar, this time on my left thigh. Something is definitely wrong. I might have to confide in Grim but I’m not sure what he’d think.

Have just finished re-reading my copy of the Apostolic scrolls and feel much better. I now believe the scars are simply part of the sacrifice I’m supposed to make in order for me to sustain this power. It’s my bodies way of dealing with the energies that would normally pass through a person which I am now holding within myself. I don’t mind this; I’m strong enough to take on this burden, especially as it will only make me a stronger force against Kyuss.

Waterday 5th – Starday 15th Wealsun 595

This last ten days have been, how do I put it? Oh yeah: dull! Without the games going on (which consequently means most people have to work which means less people partying) this city is boring! Curly was alright, he just took the time to reacquaint himself with his god and temple. Muffin was in dreamland what with all the shops open for business. Sneeze, well Sneeze never has any fun anyway so I’m pretty sure that he was fine. Grim was being… Grim and Salty seemed to spend most of it trying on new outfits (I went with her one day… I’d rather be swallowed whole by the Ulgurstasta again than repeat that experience).

Me, I’ve spent most of this week and a day studying the scrolls and believe that I’ve only scratched the surface of the power they can give me. However I also believe that there are more sacrifices to be made if I wish to acquire these powers. This poses two questions: one, am I willing to make these sacrifices and two, how do I keep this from the others. I’m sure the scars (new ones of which appear on a semi-regular basis) will at some time appear somewhere I can’t cover up (I’ve already had to start wearing long sleeved shirts due to the ones on my arms). Still, all that is for another day.

It’s been over ten days since we sent the messenger to Diamond Lake and we were expecting Shrub-beard to be here easily by now, or at least to have sent a reply. I guess I should have said that a gang of lizardmen were on their way to lay siege to his tower; he’d have been here for reinforcements in double quick time then. Still I suppose at his age it must take a bit longer, what with all the extra toilet breaks and the fact that old people seem to sleep pretty much all the time. I figure that, since it takes a normal person five days to get here, Shrub-beard should arrive sometime during next years Champions games.

Sunday 16th Wealsun 595

With our weapons now ready and with still no word from Shrub-beard (according to the company we used, the messenger hadn’t even arrived back yet) we finally left the city and started the trek back to Diamond Lake and I for one can’t wait to get there. Sure it’s at the arse end of nowhere and the general population are about as pleasant as a sober Grim and no matter where you are you there seems to be the insidious odour of Sneeze’s feet, but compared to this so called bastion of civilisation, it’s like a shining beacon of sweetness and light… apart from the priests of St Cuthbert who are just annoying.

Moonday 17th – Earthday 20th Wealsun 595

You would not believe how good it feels to be out of the city. No more worrying about assassins creeping around in the shadows. No shape-changers lying in wait to kidnap you. It almost feels like I’ve been let out of prison. Everyone seems in good spirits! Although Muffin is already whining about the lack of shopping facilities in Diamond Lake and Salty’s worried that her new outfits won’t be appreciated fully by the patrons of the Feral Dog. Grim’s also started on about the narrow range of ales available and cast doubt over their quality whilst Curly’s upset about the leaving the lavish temple of Heironeous behind. Come to think of it, it seems that only me and Sneeze are genuinely happy to leave the city (not that you’d know that by the l stoic look he has constantly imprinted on his face).

Freeday 21st Wealsun 595

Ok, I’ll have to admit that I wasn’t as thrilled to see Diamond Lake as I originally thought I would be. Although that might have to do with the fact that when we got there half of it was either burning, in ruins or both (this included Shrub-beards mansion). Two of the Sheriff’s men rode up to us as we approached town and gave us a very warm greeting (obviously word had spread about mine and my groups deeds in the Free City) before telling us exactly what had happened. Apparently a large black dragon had come to town nearly a week ago now and laid waste to Shrub-beard’s place and some other buildings – they didn’t know why but guessed that some one in town had done something to offend it. I mumbled something about it probably being Porky Smenk whilst trying not to look at my boots at the same time as Muffin put an extra blanket over the rather large, rather black egg that had been secured in my cart.

Our guilt came to the fore and forced us to ask two questions: one, where can we find the dragon? And two (more importantly) was the Feral Dog still standing?

We've just fnished The Champions Games (the wrong way round) and our party is currently comrpised of:

Deree Silentfoot - C/G - Halfling - Male - Rogue 4, Fighter 1, Barbarian 1, Whisperknife 2, Wormhunter 2.

Gimgrim Irontwister (aka Grim) - C/N - Male - Dwarf - Cleric (of Hanseath) 8, Fighter 2.

T'shan - L/N - Human - Male - Monk 10.

Selanor (aka Muffin) - C/N - Elf - Male - Wizard 6, Stormcaster 4.

Insalla (aka Salty) - N/G - Human - Female - Scout 5, Fighter 2, Dervish 3.

Gorram Tabin (aka Curly) - L/G - Human - Male - Paladin (of Heironeous) 6, Fist of Raziel 4.

If you'd like to read all about our adventures from the start, then you can find them in the campaign journal:

"Age of Worms - Deree's Diary - A Halfling's Story from the very beginning"

Godsday 25th Flocktime 595 cont.

The most striking thing about this room other than the large alter with a set of scrolls that were glowing green and shooting off a beam the same colour into a set of stone doors opposite them was the rotund cleric kneeling in prayer. I double checked to make sure that Grim was actually still with us and hadn’t somehow transported himself in front. He hadn’t, a fact that was confirmed by two things; the being before us had a set of small horns that identified him as one of those flingy things we met in the temple of Hextor and its holy symbol wasn’t nearly as conducive to drinking as ours. Nope, this cleric wore the hooded, worm infested skull that I recognised as a symbol of Kyuss (Grim, along with trying to show me how to harness the energy around me to repel undead has also been schooling me on recognition of the symbols of the other faiths).

Anyway, all of the above was enough for me as I charged in and stabbed into him as he tried to stand. I was quickly followed by Sneeze who slammed a fist across his jaw just before Muffin shot his piercing beam of sound through him. This reeled our foe but not quite enough. He uttered a single word and suddenly he disappeared. Grim quickly cast a spell and said that the fling was no longer in the room.

As the others checked out the double doors opposite the scrolls and the single door to the north, I checked out the scrolls themselves. Unfortunately they were written in a language that I couldn’t understand (later identified as Abyssal).

Curly said that he sensed a strong evil behind the double doors so without further ado he pushed them open to reveal a short corridor that ended in a block of stone with the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen (well apart from the time that Grim forgot to lock the door on the lav) carved into it; it was covered in worm infested corpses that almost seemed to writhe at the centre of which was the worm ridden skull that is the unholy symbol of Kyuss. The beam of light bathed this in the same green light as it had the doors, although when Curly (who’d determined that the block itself was emanating evil) closed the other double doors behind us they didn’t stop the beam which begs the thought, does this block stop it?

With no apparent way of easily getting past the evil block of doom, we headed back to the scroll room and took a closer look at the scrolls. After a few minutes scrutinising them Muffin said that they were under the affect of a spell that meant that they wouldn’t be subject to the passage of time. However he wasn’t sure whether it was restricted to just the scrolls or anyone touching the scrolls. After this assurance we decided to leave them where they were for the time being and headed for the smaller door.

Beyond this door was what looked like a bedroom the striking feature of which was a pillar rising to the ceiling in the design of a huge worm. Oh yeah and a female zombie that had a strange resemblance to Tinyknob that Grim nonchalantly threw a pitcher of ale over causing it to collapse even more lifelessly to the floor.

We had a quick search of the room which turned up a chest that was, unsurprisingly, magically trapped. The chest itself had a strange design; worms (of course) were a main feature but intermingled with them were what looked like people almost made out of worms trapped inside some kind of box. Now normally I’d have just disarmed the trap, flipped the lid and got the loot but the rest of them were worried that something might happen to their guiding light so I decided to leave it for now.

The room had one other exit from it which led us to a room that had a pit in the far right corner and a tartan curtain obscuring the left. Curly, obviously wanting to let some natural light in, yanked back the curtain to reveal three things, the most important of which was what looked like a large human shaped sack of yellowy viscous liquid that immediately breathed out a mist that smelled so bad it made me long for the cold winter nights when I was forced to cuddle up to Lavender for warmth.

Not wanting to get my vomit all over, well, pretty much everyone, I left the area and quietly retched in the first place I deemed appropriate: the bed. I was soon joined by Salty and a few moments later the others joined us saying that the creature had teleported away.

Just as I wiped the last vestige of sick from my mouth a door beyond the room that had housed (what I’m reliably informed was) the Alkilith demon opened and out strode the flingy cleric of Kyuss, but somehow he looked different.

The taste of puke in my mouth had got my adrenaline going and so with rage powering me, I charged forward. As I got closer I spotted that the cleric looked as though he was made of stone, a fact that was confirmed when my first attack bounced of his skin with the ring of metal on rock. Curly and Sneeze joined me but we struggled to penetrate his new natural-magical (natical, magural?) protection.

Salty (who for some reason has taken to dancing her way through a battle) managed to slip in behind the golem like cleric, the distraction of which opened up a lot of very nice targets for me to strike at. For some reason the fling took offence to this and, summoning up all the magical energy he had left uttered words of power as he grabbed my shoulder. By Hanseath I swear the pain was worse than that night I had to listen to Shrub-beard and Curly talk about their childhoods. It felt like all the wounds I’d ever suffered were being revisited upon me all at once.

I staggered back and hastily reached for a potion of healing which I swallowed as Grim used the power of Hanseath to further cure my wounds. Still hurt but, even angrier, I jumped straight back into the combat slashing through the protection almost as if it wasn’t there. Sadly the others were struggling to even make a scratch so it came as no surprise when the priest raised his glowing club and bludgeoned me across my head nearly decapitating me. This action did have one positive outcome; everyone else (obviously motivated by the fear of my death) actually started putting some aggression into their blows. Even Curly managed to look a bit annoyed and it was his swing that finally put paid to the demon.

As the rage left me, so the true extent of my injuries became apparent to me and everyone else as I almost collapsed to the ground. Grim frantically called on the power of our god and managed to stabilise me enough so that our healing wand would have time to finish the job.

Whilst this was going on the others, having searched the cleric and found several magic items along with a set of keys, returned to the bedroom and tried to open the chest. Muffin created a magical hand that he then controlled to test all the keys. Eventually he found the right one but the hand wasn’t strong enough to open the lid. Knowing it was still magically trapped we attached a grappling hook to the lid and tried to pull it open from a distance but something was keeping the lid firmly shut.

Too exhausted to be too bothered by this we headed back to the room we’d fought the morhg in and barricaded ourselves in. This decision almost came back to bite us in the proverbials when during mine and Muffin’s watch we started to notice a foul smelling green gas emanating, no not from Grim, but from through the double doors. We sounded the alarm (ok, Muffin screamed like a little girl), as the gas gathered itself together and reformed into the mass of yellow goop that was the alkilith demon. Myself and Salty charged in but the demons skin seemed to simply bend under the weight of our blows absorbing the strikes. Muffin, either because he was out of spells or simply returning to his natural born cowardly state, started to un-barricade the other door in the room in a desperate attempt to get out (although where he was intending to go I’ve no idea ‘cause the only thing that door led to was the pit into the stream. Maybe he planned on drowning himself. Not sure whether or not that’s preferable to being dissolved in acid or not; hopefully I’ll never have to find out).

At our lowest ebb an unlikely hero arrived. Ok, it wasn’t as unlikely as the time that Muffin saved us from the grick… or the time that Salty slew the otiug… or when Sneeze battered the ebon demon… or when Grim… ok, considering who was there, I guess it wasn’t that surprising. Curly stepped up and started hewing into the demon. The demon, who (sadly) wasn’t going to take this lying down, reached out and touched Curly. It was weird but Curly seemed to lose some of the power in his blows, and when the demon touched him a second time he became even more useless.

Knowing that (depressingly) he was our best hope of defeating this creature I decided to stop attacking the creature and start distracting it. I moved myself next to Curly and started directing my blows in a way that would manoeuvre the creature into a better position for our holy warrior to strike at. Salty (I don’t seem to be able to rid her of this infatuation with me) soon joined me and between us we managed to open the demon up perfectly for Curly to strike. It was an opportunity he didn’t think twice (although that would imply that Curly could actually think more than once about any one thing) about taking. With a brief prayer to Heironeous Curly plunged his blade into the belly of the demon which seemed to hold its shape for a brief second before dissolving away into a pool of liquid which quickly evaporated into a yellow gas which dissipated.

Each one of us collapsed to the floor (well except Muffin who simply started to re-barricade the door he’d been working on) and, I at least, with no heed to placing any further watches, fell into a coma like sleep.

Waterday 26th Flocktime 595

The others spent the morning searching around the complex and trying to find a way into the chest. Regarding the latter, Muffin quickly got pissed off and sent a large bolt of sound into its side almost completely obliterating it. Fortunately the contents were unharmed although there wasn’t too much to speak of: some money, a few potions and some other stuff.

Regarding the former they managed to find two secret doors; one which led onto a corridor which led to another secret door which led into a wine cellar that Muffin identified as Lightboobs’ (he’d seen it when he’d scried the house), the other led to some stairs which we decided to investigate later.

I spent the morning trying to make a copy of the scrolls (not sure how successful I’ve been – it’s hard when you don’t understand the language) as no one seems willing to touch them. Grim apparently has a spell that would allow him to understand them but he’s unwilling to cast it as it would involve him touching the scrolls which he’s worried will cause him to be enchanted by the same spell that was stopping the scrolls from aging (although for someone with as few remaining years left as he looks as though he’s got, I’m thinking that it might not be a bad idea). He said that if I wanted to read them so bad I could buy a potion that would do it for me. I think I’m going to ‘cause these scrolls, from all accounts, detail a lot of stuff to do with the worms and will probably hold the key to saving the world, but apparently I’m the only one interested in that.

We met up for lunch and decided to try and get into the one place we hadn’t been; past the block of doom. Muffin cast that spell that allows him to see beyond an obstacle and described a circular room with not much in it apart from a huge worm laying on a nest of humanoid bones; an Ulgurstasta! He also spotted a small pipe that led out in the direction of one of the rooms we’d been in. Further investigation showed us that we now did have a way into the room. Sadly, I was the only one who could fit.

Sunday 23rd Flocktime 595 cont.

We gave the priests of Heironious the items we’d found so they could determine whether or not they were cursed. It turns out that all of the stuff we’d found in the room with the vrock in (other than the petrified pseudo-dragon which they turned back to flesh) were, so we allowed them to destroy them. I think Muffin tried to negotiate with the pseudo-dragon (apparently called Animun) regarding it becoming his familiar (not sure why anyone would want to become more familiar with Muffin. Personally the less I know him the better I like him).

Whilst they did that we headed off to the counsel chambers to pass on the proof we’d found in the mind-flayers lair. The counsel seemed fairly pleased and even coughed up the reward they promised us; a whole thousand gold each. They were slightly less enamoured when we made a point of, well pointing out who’d actually hired the mind-flayer to kill us. The moment we uttered the name Doris Lightboobs, their attitude change from the pleasure that only comes from knowing that the city that you’re supposed to be running has been saved (again) by the only band of adventurers with a leader brave enough to take the job on, to one that only comes from being caught wearing nothing but a single sock by your mum on your thirteenth birthday; a mixture of horror, surprise and embarrassment coupled with a desperate desire for a hill giant to pass by, pick you up and swallow you whole… not that I know how that feels.

It turns out that this guy Lightboobs is not only extremely well thought of by pretty much everyone, but has a huge amount of influence in the city. In other words he’s got dirt on all of the counsel so they ain’t doing diddley-squat to stop him. Their official line was that they couldn’t trust the mad scratchings of a psychotic mind-flayer who had been trying to overthrow the city using his minions of doppelgangers. I have to admit I do see their point, even if the others couldn’t. Oh don’t get me wrong; he’s still going to die in the worst possible way, I just understand why the counsel won’t lift a finger to help.

Anyway, with the counsel tight-lipped about our would be killer, we decided to go and see Legless to see if he could tell us more. On the way we had to (of course) drag Muffin and Salty away every shop we passed (although we did stop off to sell stuff and drop some weapons in to be upgraded). When we got to Legless’ his elven servant thanked us for our prompt response to the invitation his master had sent. Having not been back to the Crooked House for a while we knew of no such invitation but hey, we took the complement and went upstairs where Legless was waiting with a table of food that was befitting for the heroes of the Free City.

After dinner we listened as Legless spouted off the information he’d found out about the items we’d bought him. He said that some of them weren’t related to the Age of Worms (a time when people can eat and eat and eat and never put on any weight) but some of them obviously were. From his research he said he’d found out that Kyuss was a minor deity that only had a small following. He said that their cults usually only consisted of one priest who often was a well thought of member of society. He said that from his research he’d discovered that the cult was becoming vastly more active (really? I’d never of known!) preparing for the coming of the prophecy known as the Age of Worms.
Legless said he’d tried to find out more about the Age of Worms but could only find references in his books about other books which had writings about it; books like the Necronomicon, The Libris Mortis and (more relevantly) the Apostolic Scrolls.

We told him about the Lightboobs/mind-flayer transaction and he became concerned. He said that the scrolls were said to have been written by Kyuss himself and contained the prophecy along with various spells and arcane rituals in the making of uber undead and specifically something called the Ulgurstasta, a type of undead that eats the living and regurgitates them as undead. He said that if Lightboobs had these scrolls then it was likely that he was a member of this cult (I wish I was as smart as him, I’d have never figured that out).

We asked about Lightboobs but Legless said he didn’t know much other than he was a fairly reclusive person, but a very powerful one. He apparently has a lot of support from the populace due to the Champions Games he puts on each year as well as having a lot of powerful people owing him favours (comes in handy when it’s discovered that you’re the high priest of an evil cult bent on world destruction). Other than that he couldn’t tell us anything but he did say he had a friend who might be able to give us more information about him, some woman named Celeste, as she acted as an agent for the various licensees that could enter teams into the games. Legless said he’d arrange for her to meet us at the Crooked House tomorrow.

Having to be satisfied with that we left and headed for the nearest inn where Grim further inducted me into the care of Hanseath by getting me plastered.

Moonday 24th Flocktime 595

I feel a bit sorry for Grim now. After all the times I booted him to wake him up after a nights boozing I experienced it for the first time this morning as Sneeze kicked me awake (I guess I should be glad he didn’t kill me with the blow). It wasn’t the most pleasant morning call I’d experienced.

Anyway, after breakfast we headed over to the Crooked House (we’ve still got rooms there but after the incident with the doppelgangers and with someone still out to kill us we thought it best to stay somewhere else) and waited for Moony to show up, which she did around lunchtime. She wasn’t alone however. With her was a man with a lute hung over one shoulder whom she introduced as Ekaym Smallcask (I tried not to laugh but I’m only Halfling. I wonder if the old “by name, by nature” adage applies?).

Almost before we could say a word Moony starts telling us how Tinyknob was one of the licensees who was currently looking for a group to enter into the games and how Legless had told her that we might be interested. It was at this point I interrupted and informed her that there had been some crossed wires and that we weren’t interested in entering the games but simply wanted some more information about Doris Lightboobs.

She seemed a bit surprised at this but told us the little about him that she did know. She reiterated that he was a recluse who spent most of his time in his palace which is attached to the city arena. He has his own personal guard which numbered around thirty the captain of whom is someone who was never seen and rarely talked about (she knew nothing of him). The only time she’d ever seen him was at the pre-game dinner that was held every year on the eve of the games for the gladiators that were entering that year’s tournament.

Tinyknob then saw an opportunity to turn the conversation back around to us entering the tournament under his management as this would be the only way we’d possibly get to meet Lightboobs (we hadn’t told him why we wanted to meet him so I guess his enthusiasm wasn’t overly stupid). We indulged him just to see if there was anyway we could use entering the tournament to our advantage.

Tinyknob said that all the gladiators were housed in a cavern called a Coenoby throughout the five days of the tournament. The only time a group could leave this cavern is when they were fighting or when they were knocked out. Security around the coenoby was directly correlated to how many gladiators remained (so lots on the first day and dwindling throughout the tournament). The five days broke down as follows:

Day 1: Six, four team elimination matches
Day 2: Rest for the gladiators with some entertainment for the crowd
Day3: Three group on group elimination matches
Day 4: One group on group elimination match and one group on monster fight (usually the easier of the two)
Day 5: The final battle between the two remaining groups (or monster if it killed the other group, although I’m not sure what the monster would do with the prize money)

All of the battles would be overseen by an incorruptible referee called Talavir Welik. The prize-money increased over the rounds to the point that if you won you would get a total of thirty-seven thousand gold (of which Tinyknob would of course take a share). You could also bet on yourself but each bet was limited to five hundred gold and the best odds you could get were three-one.

With the explanation done we asked for some time to discuss the proposal. It didn’t take too long (although Grim really wanted to enter and get the prize for winning the second round which, along with the money, was a silver statue of a dwarf) for the flies to decide not to go into the web of the spider that had previously sent some wasps out to try and kill them on its behalf.

I didn’t want to turn the guy down flat (I mean he’s obviously desperate – three days to go till the games and he still hasn’t found anyone to enter for him. Plus if there’s a way to get to Lightboobs from the coenoby then it’s an option worth considering) so we called them back over and said that we’re not interested at this point but if he hadn’t found anyone before the pre-game dinner, we might be persuaded to do it. He looked duly disappointed.

Wanting to find out more about this coenoby, I knew there was one person I could ask who was certain to know because (as he’ll remind anyone within earshot) he won the damn tournament last year. Orc-dropping wasn’t hard to locate (I just followed the strongest dung smell I could detect). When Grim and I found him he was busy getting drunk in a bar and trying to impress the ladies with talk of his adventures. I tried to bite my tongue but failed miserably and just had to tell the story of how he and his group couldn’t finish off a lair of trolls and how me and my group had to do it for them.

That disbursed the group around him somewhat and got me his undivided attention. I tried to smooth things over by buying him a drink before grilling him about the coenoby. He didn’t say much only that it was a cavern with various alcoves for each team. It had a small stream which gathered into a pool in one corner and a blocked off tunnel in another. There was only one entrance and that was guarded throughout the tournament to ensure that none of the gladiators were able to leave.

I then asked him if he’d spoken to Lightboobs at all and he told us that our nemesis had won the tournament years ago and was reputed to have slain a ghoul nest that had been located down the blocked off tunnel but that was all he knew.

We traded insults for a while (well when I say trade, he called me short (original!) and I ripped him to pieces causing him to storm off in a huff. As he did so I gave one last parting shot about how no matter how much he begged there was no way I was going to take over the captaincy of his team) before we headed back to the others who for once hadn’t been shopping.

Muffin had started to scry out Lightboobs palace but hadn’t found anything out of the ordinary other than they hadn’t spotted Lightboobs himself. Salty and Sneeze had taken a walk by the house and discovered that the house was indeed guarded by Lightboobs own personal army which seemed to be divided into three distinct ranks; blue tabards (lowest of the low), blue cloaks (a bit higher) and purple cloaks (the guys in charge).

With them having come up with nothing I felt rather smug telling them that I’d found an alternate way in (yes, for the first time Orc-dropping had said something useful). I told them about the stream and pool that were in the coenoby and then had to explain that the water must be coming from somewhere and then further explain to Curly that there was a small river that ran right past the arena that the water probably came from and that we could find a way in through it.

With all that done we waited until the middle of the night before we headed on down to a part of the river upstream from the arena. Knowing that this mission would be dangerous and possibly involve traversing some pretty small passages I decided that it would be best that I head in alone. The only problem with this was that I had to endure minutes of people casting various spells on me so that I could breathe underwater, become invisible, see in the dark and one so that Muffin could see exactly what I saw (this baffled me a bit but he said it had something to do with when I found a suitable entrance point he could transport us there).

This done I plunged into the dark (and bloody freezing – no-one thought to cast a spell that’d keep me nice and warm did they?) waters and started my hunt. It didn’t take to long to find a small side stream off that looked like it headed towards the arena. I followed this stream for what seemed like ages, heading towards the arena as best I could when it forked (which it did several times), before eventually coming across a part of it that was filled with, well I don’t really want to think what it was filled with so lets just say it was really mucky.

Despite being able to breathe the water I held my breath and swam in. I emerged out of the water at the bottom of what must have been a garbage chute. Steeling myself against the smell, I began the perilous climb to the top and cautiously poked my head over the small ledge at the top. I was in a small circular room that had one corridor to the east. Beyond this corridor I could see three shuffling skeletal figures that seemed to have lots of tiny worms slithering all over them. I felt a wave of fear wash over me but it was as water washing over a duck.

Despite that and my desperate desire to destroy these (what were obviously) spawn of Kyuss, I thought better of it and climbed back down to the water and, my mission successfully completed, made my way back to the others. I was all for going in straight away but the spell-casters moaned that they’d expended too much energy in ensuring my safety for it to be a good idea and that we should wait until tomorrow. Begrudgingly I agreed and so we headed off to another random tavern to waste the night.

Godsday 25th Flocktime 595

It turns out Muffin is Muffin after all. His so called spell which could transport us all into the room I’d seen in fact couldn’t. It could only take some of us. What this means is that the rest of us (namely myself, Sneeze and Salty) are going to have to swim in, which in turn means that we can’t until later tonight after it goes dark as three people swimming in the river is likely to cause some attention, especially when they don’t resurface, which means that we’re having to waste the day doing nothing. We can’t even really drink (not properly anyway) as we have to be at our sharpest for our infiltration later (although I’m not sure Grim even begins to function until he’s got about five tankards down him).

Anyway, we wiled away the day until dusk fell when we headed for a secluded part of the river near to our destination and the three swimmers jumped in. I led Sneeze and Salty up to the chute where we extended up our magical rope and all made our way to the top. As we arrived Muffin, who’d cast that spell so he could see what I was seeing again, opened his magical door and he, Grim and Curly appeared in the room.

As we climbed out the pit the spawn of Kyuss shuffled along the narrow corridor towards us and right into a bolt of electricity that Muffin sent shooting through them. The three undead burst apart almost showering us in a spray of worms (I think one landed on Curly but he just flicked it off).

We headed along the corridor which opened out into a fairly small room with three empty coffins in it and a corridor off which brought us to a door. We did the normal checks (traps, evil etc.) and Curly said he sensed some strong evil behind the door. We readied ourselves and Curly opened the door to reveal what looked like an old warrior training room (it had combat dummies that were falling apart and some broken mechanical devices scattered about it and a holy symbol of Kord emblazoned on the far wall) the current inhabitants of which looked like they hadn’t been training in a good long while. Along with six spawn of Kyuss stood another skeletal figure but this one had no worms. Instead we could see its viscera which writhed in its torso. It licked where its lips would have been with its long spiked tongue as we entered.

Muffin once again ruined the fight for everyone by exploding a ball of lightning in the room which took out all of the Kyuss spawn leaving only the (what Grim recognised as a) Morhg. Salty tumbled passed everyone and managed to get herself into a flanking position only for the morhg to lick her. As it did, Salty became paralysed (probably not the first time the touch of someone’s tongue has rendered her helpless) and this momentary distraction was all that Curly needed to slay the creature.

We searched this room for the few minutes it took Salty to regain her composure but there wasn’t anything worth salvaging. We went to the double doors that were on the north of this chamber and went through them into a short corridor which ended in another set. We were about to go straight through when Curly stopped us saying he sensed an overwhelming evil in the room beyond.

Grim and Muffin hastily cast some preparatory spells before we charged in.