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I don't know why you are all interested in the Sandpoint Devil. We put that vile beast down YEARS ago.....
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
Strange...I have not been able to locate this journal for DAYS, and then, there it was, at the bottom of my pack. Odd. Regardless, MUCH has happened since my last, hastily scribed entry recording the defeat of the Sandpoint Devil. I shall attempt to recall our actions now.... After our triumph over the evil Devil, we collected ourselves, and began to make our way through the passageways, towards Kanker’s temple headquarters. That’s when Kirin showed up. Apparently the elf had been trapped by the Sandpoint Devil, and was held captive in its lair. He offered to show us the lair, and upon mentioning “treasure” could be found there, Ostog shouldered past us all bellowing about “seeing what the foul devil left me.” Kirin led us out a pair of large doors into an open area, which we soon discerned was the bottom of the pit on Devil’s Platter. We made our way across the bottom to a cave-like chamber on the other side, which was the Devil’s lair. The cave was lined with filth and bones. And a surprising amount of excrement. So much so, that it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that giant bats lived above, and took the opportunity to attack us shortly after we entered. We dispatched the bats in short order, and proceeded to investigate the lair for the aforementioned “treasure”. Definitely treasure. I managed to pick out a full set of very well-made adamantine plate armor. Not a big fan of it being black, or with the large spikes adorning the shoulder plates. Cosmetically, I’ll need to change the color sometime soon to the standard gold befitting of a marshall of Abadar. It seemed that there were enough magical items and gear for each of us to take for use. The most curious items were found in a deep pool at the far end of the cavern. Magic of a strong nature was detected at the bottom of the pool, greater than 10 feet down. As I had the bottle of air, I fastened it to my face and walked down into the pool to investigate and retrieve the items. I did not detect evil upon the items, so I picked them up and brought them out to examine them with the others. What I came up with was a star knife and a winged helm with symbols of butterflies worked into the design. Both items spoke of an affiliation with Desna, to be sure. The star knife was identified as a magically enhanced weapon, imbued with holy power, and capable of returning when thrown. It also seemed to possess some aspect that suggested intelligence, but that aspect was blocked somehow. The helm was far too difficult for the mages in our group to figure out, but putting the helm on filled the wearer with an overwhelming sense of loss and sadness that it was most unsettling. I resolved to bring these to a church of Desna to find out more. We rounded up all the items we found, and after a discussion of what to do next, we resolved to return to Sandpoint to restock our supplies, and prepare better for the showdown with Kanker next. The return journey to Sandpoint was eventless, unless of course you count Balazar summoning steeds to carry him for a short period of time...over and over and over. As it turns out, we would all regret his foolishness....
Not to be accused of neglecting my journal entry duties, I did happen to write a stirring missive chronicling our defeat of a most foul beast. I shall expand upon that day in due time. SO IT IS JUDGED!
You can check out the campaign journal over on our boards—it's generally only a few game sessions behind where we're at. I have been meaning to get that up-to-date....really, I have! There's just no opportune time to sit down and write...between chatting it up with the Worm that Walks, slaying the Sandpoint Devil, and dealing with Kirin and his crazy bird talk...what's a paladin to do? And I really don't understand all this nonsense you've put under Stoot's name....other than he's EEEEEEEVIL! But I knew that, of course. It's my job to know these sorts of things.
One can also read up on our adventures in the campaign thread. It's pretty skimpy up until post #96, when yours truly joined up with this lot. Apparently, Styrian will not be forthcoming on his chronicles of Ostog the Unslain until it is complete (i.e., when Ostog is actually dead, I suppose). And Velmarius probably won't write much until he has a servant (or sexy secretary) to whom he can "dictate" his accounts. Until then, I am perfectly happy to recount our harrowing tales, in hopes that it inspires some to a life of service to Abadar. So it is judged!
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
This day has fared better. Much evil has been met...and vanquished. Ah, sort of. I will explain in this entry, as we have paused in our travels down to the bottom of the pit to find Kanker and foil his plans. Our morning started off with the decision to take the advice of Zalavexus, and use the “back way” to Kanker’s sanctum. Unfortunately, Mr. “Worms that Talk” was all too pleased to chat with us again, and it was all I could do to quickly move the party past the vile thing before Ostog started to agree to some slickly posed offer. We made our way down, down, down the passageway until we heard a rushing of water, and saw an eerie red-purple glow ahead. The passageway opened into a dimly-lit cavern. At the entrance was a curious depression, with a pool of liquid settled in it. Further in, the rushing water was an underground river which had carved a wide, 10-foot deep path through the middle of the cavern. Ostog and I stood on the ledge above and peered down to the river below, and saw the reddish flow was emanating from a group of large crystals. At the center was a form of a dead person. Ostog spied some gear or something , for he jumped down to the river bank below, but failed to land successfully. He hit with a mighty thump, and revealed that the entire riverbank was covered in mold, which kicked up an alarming amount of spores in the process. Ostog began hacking and coughing and wheezing, while I quickly slipped off my pack, and pulled out the strange bottle of fresh air that I had found earlier with the head straps. Slipping this on, I returned to see that Ostog had stumbled over to the corpse in the crystals, but was shocked to hear Ostog cry out in recognition, “Girt Bear-Wearer!” At this the corpse pulled itself out of the crystals, and several undead rose from the waters of the underground river, lurching forward to take Ostog. I yelled to the others to come, but they had been surprised by an ooze that had risen from the strange pool at the entrance, and had seized Balazar for a small snack. Fortunately, Velmarius was not otherwise engaged, and he took the time from his busy schedule to finish his wine and come see what was the matter. In the meantime, I leapt down to the riverbank, in an equally unsuccessful manner, to assist Ostog, by attacking his lost oarmates while he battled Girt. This was about the time that Velmarius had the brilliant idea to fireball the lot of us. Several of the undead dropped, and luckily Ostog and I remained standing. I paused and called for the justice of Abadar to flow out from me to purify the area. That wave of energy proceeded to drop more of the undead, and may have even angered Undead Girt a bit. I focused my attentions on the remaining undead oarsman, trusting that Ostog would remain Unslain, but Ostog was already weakened by the mold, and Girt was oddly different from other undead I am familiar with. I saw Ostog fall, and moved forward to engage Girt, calling to him that he forgot his axe as I buried it in his shoulder. Vorn came running to the ledge, to make his way down, and at this, the undead Girt retreated to the river, but not before Velmarius shot several magic missiles in his back. Girt splashed soundly into the water, and began to float downstream. I laid my hands upon Ostog to stabilize him for Vorn’s attentions, and turned to retrieve the floating body, but before I could do so, the body burst from the water, and the bellowing soul of Girt Bear-Wearer ripped itself from the corpse, and fled to the opposite side of the cavern, down a far passageway. After all this, the party paused to heal up the injured (Balazar had come close to death TWICE it seems, and his farty, purple pal was nowhere to be seen), and those more nimble crossed the river and climbed the far bank... and where immediately set upon by a large creature that dropped on them from the cavern ceiling. Poor Hazel was entirely enveloped by this lurker from above, and the thing crushed her to an inch of her life. Luckily Vorn and Ostog managed to wrest her free, and defeat the creature, but not before they too were given the none too friendly embrace themselves. Velmarius and I witnessed much of this as we were attempting to cross the river, and by the time we arrived to the other side, the battle was over. So, for now, we rest and regroup. Our next encounter may well be Kanker and minions...including the Sandpoint Devil!
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
This was not the day I had hoped it to be. Not. At. All. I overestimated my own abilities, and severely underestimated those of my enemies...and my companions. That garners some explanation, I fear. I will recount this dramatic day: Upon rising this morning, the group took another good look at Styrian’s strange spiral map of the Pit, trying to make sense of where we’d been, and what was left to clear. Now that we were all keenly aware of where Kanker was hiding out, no of us was in any real hurry to run down there, work our way past the Sandpoint Devil, and make a rush for Kanker. Well, Ostog was all for it. And Styrian was quite excited about this Sandpoint Devil creature, flipping through his notes, showing us his sketches, and so on. If the thing is as hideous as Styrian’s drawings are poor, then we have much to fear. Instead, we refocused on the other areas we had not yet explored. Vorn and Hazel noted that we had completed missed a cavern on the upper level, apparently filled with horrible little blue men that Zandu called “jenkins.” Ah. Strange name, regardless. So, we ascended the ladders to the upper levels, and travelled down a series of tunnels to an open cavern teeming with the foul little things. While there were a lot of them, it was really quite embarrassing to even engage them. Ostog took to it with a certain amount of glee, but quickly became bored, and instead took to coaching Styrian and Zandu on the art of insane sword waving. I tried to stay away from what was easily becoming a slaughter, but the damned little blue things kept trying to attack me. I at first tried smacking them with the flat of Thundergutter, but it kept discharging a shock of lightning that cooked the little devils. Using my shield to bash them was a bit more fair, but not by much. Velmarius somehow skipped out again on this, and I wish, once again, that I had enough sense to follow him…that is, if I entirely trusted him. The Jenkins massacre yielded nothing but Ostog’s bellowing of disapproval, and how Styrian could “just leave this part out of the epic” and so forth. It was pointed out that the constable Hemlock would still have to pay us for clearing the cavern, and that cheered everyone up. Ah, By the Judge, monetary gains mark progress, indeed. It was at this point that we consulted the map again, and it was decided that the group should travel back down and deal with the cavern with the spider people images drawn by it; this we took to be what Zalavexus referred to as the “Umberweb Emissary”. And here is where things went wrong for me.
All was going fairly well, until the males on the ledges got involved, casting spells down upon us. The female at the far end advanced, and then...disappeared. I had little time to consider this, as the remaining spiders were fighting fiercely, and the male to the left decided to come down and attack us. Rummy-Tum-Tugger rushed forward to fight it, but was tremendously outmatched fighting it alone. I moved forward to aid the….(sigh) purple badger, delivering my challenge to it, calling upon the Might of the Judge to serve it death. Instead, two searing beams of fire tore out of the darkness, catching me full in the chest. I can only assume that it was the Emissary. All went dark.... I awoke to a horrific sight...the male spider creature I was attacking had my head grasped, and was preparing to rip my throat out! He was somewhat startled to find his meal awake and looking back, I suppose, as he dropped me and backed off. I looked over to find Balazar standing next to me with his wand, and...a dinosaur? This great armored beast had been summoned, and had been fighting Ostog, who had cleverly maneuvered it into one of the gas vents, causing it to pass out. The great beast was collapsing at the very moment I gained consciousness, and its huge club tail came crashing down next to the very spot I once laid, narrowly missing me! Thank the Judge! Unfortunately, nearly dying two times over was too much of a distraction. I struggled to my feet, calling upon Abadar to heal my wounds as I rose, and turned to face the dark elf spider again. Instead, he unleashed a barrage of magic blasts at me. Once again, darkness closed in. I awoke with Balazar standing over me, with his wand. Instantly I knew that Abadar’s might of justice had left me again, unfulfilled. I rose to see the battle ended, with the spiders and spider men dead, the dinosaur with Gnarlfang firmly embedded in its skull, and the Emissary gone. Zandu also took a bit of damage, and the fight on the right ledge had taken its toll on those that aided Vorn and Hazel. Vorn had been quite generous with his healing from Gorum, but I had been too far to benefit. Our return trip, and the following hours we have spent in the derro laboratory chamber have been filled with the tales of Ostog felling a dinosaur in one blow. Really, every time he tells it, the dinosaur gets bigger and meaner. I would smile, if I did not find myself so useless at this very moment.
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
I fear I am in an unpleasant mood this evening. I have not been as...effective as I had hoped to be against the evil that dwells down here under Sandpoint. I will explain by recounting the day’s events. Shortly after Vorn revived Balazar from his injuries, we made our way to the other passage, which led to a larger chamber. Kirin crept up to investigate, and quickly returned to tell us that Kanker himself was there, along with derro and ghouls...including one that looked like – Styrian? Recalling that derro seem to like the despicable practice of poisoning their weapons, several of us drank our anti-toxin, and set ourselves to do battle, and rushed into the room. Well, it wasn’t just a room, actually. I should clarify that the chamber was lined with examination tables, many which held bodies that were dissected. A sinister laboratory, no doubt, for the derro to study surface dwellers for the secret of living in the light. Upon our entrance, Kanker ordered a derro female magister to kill us, and promptly vanished. The magister beckoned her derro followers to attack, along with the ghouls, and Velmarius lobbed a fireball at the end of the room that set many of the derro and ghouls aflame. Alas, the magister avoided the flames, and so we set to our grim task as Styrian began to recite some rather inspiring tale of some glorious past battle, but staying low and relatively hidden. As I moved forward to engage the magister, I was intercepted by some ghoul and derro. I cut them each down in short order, but not before the magister noticed Styrian, who turned nearly white as the snow. She seemed to recognize him, and called him “experiment number” something or other. Styrian was visibly shaken, but even more so when the ghoulish Styrian came forward to attack. It was also at this time that the magister summoned a dretch demon. I moved forward to assist Kirin when the dretch belched a vile toxic cloud that filled the half the chamber. At some point someone ended that grotesque version of Styrian, for I saw the head rolling across the ground. Dispatching their opponents, Ostog and Hazel began to move forward towards the magister while I decided to move forward against the two dretch teaming up on Kirin. Vorn and I moved in, and Zandu kept downing derro and ghouls with much grim determination. I would venture to say that he might have been having fun. Balazar also took this time to summon not Rummy-Tum-Tugger, but a very large alligator that went after the dretch as well. Velmarius kept slinging spells about, and he may have been enjoying himself, too, as he hurled an equal amount of insults at the magister. The dretch finally downed, I began to move forward to assist Ostog and Hazel in taking down the magister. I called upon the might of the Golden Fisted One against her, and equally felt the strength of Gorum gifted from Vorn, as I moved forward to round the table to attack…and saw Ostog leap upon the table and drive a massive strike that struck her dead. And the strength of the gods subsided from me, untested...unused. We proceed to search the room, finding a small chamber seemingly for storage, and moved all the bodies into it. The decision was to make camp here, and move further down the Pit to find Kanker. It was pointed out, however, that we really should be sure that no secret passages existed in the chamber, so that the Pit’s denizens could pop on in and take us by surprise. Zandu inadvertently rubbed his head as this was mentioned. And so Kirin took up the search, and located...a secret passage! Despite being exhausted, and depleted of our spells, Ostog challenged us all to move forward and investigate. And so we did. We followed the passage a good distance, and came upon a cavern of sorts, with a large pool. Someone mentioned how odd the water moved, and I made a cursory read of the water for evil. Which it was, of course. The water writhed and wiggled, as thousands of worms moved upwards into the form of a man. Styrian mumbled something about the “Worms that Walk”, and thus we met Zalavexus, the Emissary of Denebrum. This...thing, was the superior of that seugathi worm thing in Magnimar! Zalavexus talked a great deal. Mostly to Ostog, since Ostog really doesn’t know better than to chat it up with an evil, corrosive being. There was some useful information that was gained, I will admit. We learned that Kanker could be found at the bottom of the Pit in a temple of sorts, and it was guarded by the Sandpoint Devil. We learned that Zalavexus was just as much an enemy of these brain dogs, which he called Intellect Devourers. He confirmed much of what we suspected. The midnight milk was there to subvert us surface dwellers into slaves to fight against Denebrum. He attempted to bargain with us, asking for some focusing lenses that Kanker possessed. Ostog assured the worm-man that we would look for such a thing. And, much to my relief, we left, and returned to the derro chamber. And here we are...to rest for tonight. Tomorrow we will discuss our next move. Maybe tomorrow I will make the difference.
Apparently, Kirin was spying over my shoulder as I wrote this. He tells me that 1) he wasn't THAT bad off (yes...he was), and 2) It was Rummy-Tum-Tugger that the derro dragged off to eat, not him. This....is true. It was the purple cheese-eater that was taken away. Say....he's not back her either! Could the derro have actually eaten him? I'd ask old Balazar, but he is quite out of it. Vorn has shaken his head and grumbled a lot over there. I'll just stay out of it for now. Looks like we have decided to backtrack and try the adjoining chamber, just as soon as Balazar is back up. More later....
Now, hold on just one moment here! Not all of us Taldorans are jerks! Quite a few? Yes. All? No. By the Judge, some of us are upstanding members of the community! Alain? Ah, yes, I would concur, sir...I guess he is the "Iconic Jerk"! He's from a smaller family, one lesser than the Talbots. He is known as quite the rabblerouser, actually. Not at all surprising to see he is out there, raising hell, looking for glory somewhere...
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
So, I concur with Xandu. I strongly dislike derro. We started this day with a brisk hike to the Devil’s Platter, and then slowly worked our way down past the goblin caverns. Styrian pointed out that we had not quite explored every area in the goblin caves, so we backtracked and found the mystery room in short order: it was covered in a layer of yellowish mold. Everyone was a little hesistant about plodding through that, and discussion about whether to explore further or leave it began in earnest. That is, until Velmarius threw a fireball into the room, effectively ridding us of the mold problem. A bit of gold, including a gold skeleton of a mouse, some potions, and some healing tools were all we recovered. Velmarius was slightly annoyed. We continued on, down to where we believed the next set of unexplored caverns awaited us. Making our way down the passageways, we came upon a small room with dark, rotten curtains. Kirin parted the curtains of the left side, and revealed another passageway lit with some bright blue mold. We began to move down to a large cavern within. Ostog, Hazel, and I were beginning to enter the larger room, which contained a large, flutey…plant-snake creature, when a disturbance broke out behind us. Shouts and cries of alarm went up as the passageway to our rear suddenly when completely dark, and those damned hooked sticks on ropes came whistling out at the party. As the flutey plant-snake thing did not appear to be attacking us, I decided to return to my companions and assist them in dispatching the evil little derro-devils. Unfortunately, as I started moving in one direction, Ostog moved in the opposite direction, charging the strange creature! I took a quick moment to consider this, and looked to Hazel. She shrugged at me, and waved me back down the passageway to the others as she followed Ostog. The others were holding, but the darkness was putting them at a significant disadvantage. I met them as they were backing up from the darkened area, with about eight derro leaping from it to engage us. Poor Kirin seemed to once again take a fair brunt of their ire, trying to flank, but being flanked in turn. Xandu found his bow to be a liability in this close-quarters fight, and pulled his sword to exact his revenge upon their damned hooked sticks. Velmarius effectively avoided most of the confrontations, but a female derro “took a liking to him”...in a “I’d like to stab you” kind of way. Velmarius reciprocated by trying to charm her, which she disliked. So, that relationship almost lasted as long as Velmarius’s last one! The battle was fierce, and at times I feared for some of my friends’ safety. Well, mostly Kirin’s. He somehow got himself taken down and nearly dragged away as derro food at one point. Ostog’s guttural bellows of rage drifted up from the larger cavern during our own engagement, casting some doubt on my decision to leave him to his own fight. In the end, though, all derros lay dead or retreating, and Ostog and Hazel killed the strange plant-snake creature. Ostog looked fairly bad off, so I offered him healing. As I did, he recounted how the creature was actually the many grafted and combined pieces of humanoid remains, grown together into this monstrosity. This made me dislike those derro fiends even more! Well, our rest and reorganization period is at an end. We move on, deeper into the caverns, towards Kanker hopefully.
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
Ah, Styrian has come to some conclusion regarding the caverns and entrances up on the Devil’s Platter. He has identified the caverns we have cleared, and ones that remain...infested. Ghouls appear to be there, yes. What we think are those little spooky white freaks that throw the hooked sticks – ah, Xandu insists they are called ‘derro’. My, he says it with such hatred! Well, yes, it appears that we are headed back up to the pit on the Platter, then. I had better get my things in order, check on the ghost’s vessel at the cathedral, and give the town a “once over” before heading out!
Paladins...outshine? Well, maybe not ALL paladins, but my armor is quite the high-gloss, shiny mail compared to most fighters. I mean, I DO have a reputation to uphold. Can't have a Marshall of Abadar looking shabby now, can we? Oh. OH! You were talking about combat prowess! Ah, I see. Why, then, are you not including the barbarian in this debate? I mean, my good, yet utterly uncivilized, friend, Ostog, is quite effective in combat.... Ah. I see my party is ready to head out to the Devil's Platter again. Carry on!
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
After a harried midnight ride, we have made it to Sandpoint...and none too soon. Our race here was not an easy one. Ostog and Styrian had to lag behind, due to their horse throwing a shoe. As for the rest of us, we were ambushed by more of the mothmen as we neared Sandpoint. At least, we thought there were several of them. As it turned out, many of the mothmen were false images. Rummy-tum-tugger was the first to notice this, and I began to focus my attentions upon the presence of evil in the area. The many became only one, but it turned out to be one capable of casting many images of itself, as well as becoming completely invisible while attacking us from seemingly every direction. Just as I would begin to pinpoint the attacker, it would fly up and away, leaving me no choice but to begin my detections once again. The successive attacks from our unseen assailant began to seriously frustrate the group, as I am sure its only real purpose was to delay us long enough for the town to wake up and consume the tainted water supply. Balazar had been, up to this point, summoning all manner of creatures, and Zandu had been carefully tracking and firing at the attacker’s locations, but to no avail. Hazel and I simply tried to flank and box the invisible foe. Vorn became so disgusted with this, that he merely began to leave, rushing off towards Sandpoint. It was about this time that I was finally able to pinpoint the mothman. Balazar suddenly had an inspiration, and summoned a large celestial bat, which quickly located the pinned down the mothman. We all proceeded to surround the creature and kill it. Shortly thereafter, we discovered that this was actually a priestess of Pazuzu, by the garments and unholy symbol it possessed. Evil forces continue to gather against us, it would seem. Quickly, we resumed our way to Sandpoint, and came upon the town near dawn. I immediately began to dump the water barrels I came upon, greatly agitating the townfolk from their homes. After warning the town about the suspected tainting, the priest from the temple was summoned to detect whether the water was indeed poisoned from the remaining barrels and supply, and those were purified. As we had feared, nearly half of the supply WAS tainted with midnight milk, especially those barrels near the guard barracks. Crisis averted!! We took some time to explain the situation to Hemlock, and patrol the town for any more signs of unrest, and that is when we came upon Pillbug Podicker’s shop, door wide open. His shop was nearly empty, save for the dead guard laying inside; it was cleared out of all items, except for a lone bottle on a shelf labeled “antidote”. Could this actually be the antidote for midnight milk? I somewhat distrust this notion, but I reserve my judgment for now. As I was hailing down the town guard, the others rushed inside further to search for any sign of Podicker. It was not long after that I heard shouts from Kirin about a metal snake or some such nonsense. Moments later, after a furious amount of commotion inside, Kirin and Hazel emerged with…a largish metallic snake. Now, I will admit that sometimes I chalk up Kirin to hysterics and “crazy talk”, but I find it increasingly uncomforting that he is beginning to make more sense as of lately. We now await Ostog and Styrian to show up in town. Discussion amongst the group has us leaving for the Devil’s Platter to finish our purging of the caverns there, as well as a search for Canker and his headquarters therein.
Ah, excellent, deputy! Practicing the ol' "good constable, bad constable" bit, eh? Um...what? Don't look at ME like that! OH. You're serious. Yes...well, of course you are. Not worry, though. We'll just make sure your "bright and smiling" face never has to meet the Proctor, then, won't we?
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
We make haste, back to Sandpoint! We leave in little under a quarter of the hour, so I thought it best to record these happenings, whilst they are fresh in my mind (what is left of it!). I received the warrants allowing us full access to Valdemar’s townhouse, and I gathered my companions and set off. Upon our arrival, we were met at the door by Kirin, who had somehow found out our destination this morning by an inquiry at the temple of Abadar. His comment about "not trusting that Imikar guy" had me curious as to what THAT was about, but...to business! A pale and emotionless butler answered the door, and tried to dismiss us, but upon seeing our warrants, grudgingly let us pass through. We gathered in the parlor to start our search, when I noticed that the housekeepers were acting strangely. Keeping my eye on the house staff, I suggested to the butler that no interference would be tolerated. I then pulled out a vial of the midnight milk, and asked if he knew anything about it. I might as well have waved purse of gold pieces at a pack of paupers; a maid launched herself at me, clawing at my armor and shield. I simply thought her bewitched, and soundly smacked her upside the head with the flat of Thundergütter, but it did little good. A quick detection of evil let me know that all the staff were milk addicts, as good as dead. The party made quick work of them. No sooner had we finished this gruesome task, but a stout fellow in a fancy robe came strutting down the stairwell to investigate. As he stopped in shock, Velmarius gave him one of those big “you are now my best friend” smiles, and said, “Pillbug Podicker...what an unexpected surprise! Come, join us!” I quickly came to learn that this man was a resident of Sandpoint, and was sought out by my companions early in their investigations to identify the midnight milk. Instead, he became addicted to it, and was lured by Valdemar into his whole scheme. Podicker was here as Valdemar’s guest, and was awaiting his return. When we informed him that Valdemar would not be returning...ever...he paled, and said, “But, what about the-” He was suddenly interrupted by something upstairs slamming itself against the door. Running upstairs to investigate, we saw a thin tentacle wriggling from under the doorway, searching. “It’s hungry again!!,” Podicker whimpered. We grabbed some of the milk zombie staffers, and tossed them up against the door, which the tentacles latched onto and pulled under the door, in bits. Then...all was quiet. We took this opportunity to search the premises for answers. Answers to Valdemar’s plans. Answers as to what in the blue blazes was behind that door! Notes and some filling in from Podicker revealed that this creature was captured in the pit on the Devil’s Platter, and Valdemar had it brought back here for study. Unfortunately, this thing outgrew the space. It was noted that this was a creature from the Darklands. After much discussion, most of it an argument on whether to burn the townhouse down or not, we proceeded to the door to kill the creature. At first, after we had opened the door to a dark room, it seemed that the creature was nowhere in sight. Then, it spoke to our minds. Velmarius was the only one who could make much sense of it at first, but it opened the gates a bit wider, and we learned its story. This was a seugathi, and servant to the neothilids of Denebrum, and an enemy to the intellect devourers, what we had been calling ‘brain dogs’. This seugathi was sent to spy on the intellect devourers. From what it had learned, this midnight milk was part of a plan to increase the fighting forces of the intellect devourers for their war with the seugathi. The unseen creature asked to be let go, so that it could report to its masters. This seemed a bad request, and Ostog simply wanted to kill it for speaking in his mind. I, for whatever reason, saw a dim possibility to offset these intellect devourers by helping their enemy, as evil as it was. “The enemy of my enemy"...as it were. I found myself offering to accompany it to the nearest passageway to the Darklands, just to be sure it would not cause any harm to innocents. This caused Ostog to ask me, “Escort it to the Darklands?? Really, Howell? Is that what they are teaching you paladins these days??” Our ensuing argument was that last straw for the seugathi, and it reached out and grabbed Ostog’s mind. Much of the battle was a confused mess, blurry at best, but for those of us who rushed in to slay the creature rushed into madness and confusion. Ostog attacked most of us at some point, and it took a concerted effort of the party to find the large, caterpillar-like creature clinging to the rafters, and bring it down, where I called upon the might of the Gold-Fisted one to smite the evil beast. Many blows were landed by me, Zandu, Vorn, Hazel, and Kirin, with the last by Ostog himself, as he freed himself from the mindhold, and brought down Gnarlfang. With the seugathi dead, we completed our search and began reading through the notes and letters Valdemar left. As I directed the town guards in the collection of the seugathi, to be returned to the temple for examination, Styrian quickly called us together to show us a piece of correspondence; one that outlined a plan to slip midnight milk into the water supply of Sandpoint. The key to this plan? That we were safely out of the way, thanks to Anton Ghanafini. I quickly rushed back to the temple, while the others made preparations for immediate travel to Sandpoint. Surprisingly, Ostog chose to accompany me to the temple so that I could make my report to Proctor Imikar. The proctor was immediately dismissive, complaining that I was littering his rooms with fantastical beasts, slaying townspeople, and so on. He even insinuated that Ostog and I were...well, intimate, thanks to some "dirty crazy bird elf". And so it went; that is, until Ostog started berating him for his lack of respect. Yes. Ostog. Came to my defense. The proctor was so stunned, that he politely asked us both to recount our investigation of Valdemar, Canker, the midnight milk, and the intellect devourers. In the end, he took us seriously enough. He appointed me a ‘marshal of Abadar,’ with jurisdiction over the region of Sandpoint. It appears that it truly is up to us to save this town once again. And now, we ride for Sandpoint, and pray it is not too late!
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
Not to be distracted by the, uh, purple badger, we looked about the warehouse and found it...empty. My heart suddenly sank to my stomach, fearing that all my preparations would look like a wild goose chase. Our only chance was an office. As we tried the door, it exploded, peppering us with fire, glass, and wood splinters. Picking ourselves up, we examined the interior of the smoking office space, and found a hatchway in the floor, leading down to the sewers. I stationed the guards in the warehouse, with orders to arrest anyone entering the warehouse, or exiting the hatchway, and the rest of the party descended. Adjusting our eyes to the dim lighting in the sewer tunnel, we advanced into a larger passageway, and were immediately accosted by a pack of wererats hiding in the alcoves. Many of our hits were not as effective as they should have been, but between the spells flying and blades cutting, plus Thundergutter’s mithral edge, and the purple blur of teeth and claws that is Rummy-tum-tugger, the wererats broke and ran. We pursued the last one to a pair of large wooden doors, where I ran to interrogate it, but found it spitted upon Gnarlfang, with Ostog nodding in satisfaction. So much for that. With the rest of the party approaching, Ostog pulled on the double doors, letting out a noxious burst of smoke, and opening to a hazy den of midnight milk addicts. And there, at the head of the chamber, was Kaleb Valdemar, administering a dose of the poison to none other than our friend, Ghanafini, who uttered, “It’s not as bad as it looks” before lapsing into a drug-induced coma. Valdemar smiled and remarked that he had expected us sooner, and “in a more pliable state, but no matter”. At this he sent forth a number of undead to take us, along with some thugs who transformed into more of the wererats. Velmarius immediately detonated a fireball behind Valdemar, which he avoided nearly entirely. The same could not be said for Ghanafini’s drugged form, however. As the party entered the den to attack Valdemar’s minions, Valdemar himself disappeared from view. Hazel quickly charged one of the wererats, and was surrounded by more. Styrian began to recite something truly inspiring, and Vorn blessed us all with prayer. I called upon Abadar to imbue Thundergutter with Holy Light and Justice, took one of the undead down, and was frantically looking for Valdemar, when Vorn stepped in and spoke forceful words of Gorum that purged the area of invisibility. Not only did Valdemar reappear, but so did Balazar, who suddenly found himself too close to one of the undead, and took a hit before scrambling back up the stairs and sending an orb of light forth to attack. Valdemar quickly retraced his steps to attack Hazel, carefully avoiding a grease spell cast underfoot. The rest of us moved up to finish the wererats and undead in an attempt to close with Valdemar. Valdemar focused on taking Hazel down, while Ostog and I moved up to take the fight to him instead. Hazel was able to step away from Valdemar, while Vorn, Zandu, and Velmarius cleared the room of wererats and undead. Balazar and Hazel were seemingly overcome by the smoke in the room, as Balazar started to caress and lick the wall, and Hazel looked dreamily around the room. Ostog leapt over the grease to deal a death blow to Valdemar, but no sooner had his body sunk to the floor, it started to shake and shudder. Everyone around me exclaimed something about “another brain dog” or some such nonsense, or so thought until Valdemar’s head split open, and a brain with four clawed feet and whip-like appendage climbed out of it, and grew several times larger! It spoke in my head some terrible language, and went on the attack! There was no doubt in my mind of this thing’s evil, and so I called down the justice of Abadar to smite this unearthly being. The - OK, yes, it DID look like a brain dog – the brain dog quickly found itself surrounded, and between myself and Ostog, with Rummy-tum-tugger dispatching the remaining wererats, the brain dog took terrible damage. It apparently tried to take over Ostog’s mind, but Ostog resisted as usual. Then, the brain dog slipped in the grease, and Ostog pinned it through and through with Gnarlfang. With the death of the terrible creature, which was explained to me to be the same type that attacked the party during their ambush at the Blue Bunyip, the bodies of all the drugged persons in the den also started to go into seizures. Each of their heads split and out fell dead and undeveloped brain dogs. With all enemies and threats eliminated, we examined the den further, finding more midnight milk samples, and a back entrance leading to the sewer tunnels. We followed this for a ways, to ensure that there were not more of Valdemar’s minions present, and then returned to the warehouse to call the guards down to remove the bodies, particularly the one of the brain dog, for evidence. Somehow, I doubted that Proctor Imikar would believe it unless he saw it. One thing is for certain, though. The midnight milk is a seed for growing the brain dogs in peoples’ heads. To what purpose, I cannot say, only that it is an evil one. When I made my report, Imikar voiced his great disbelief. But, he recognized that Valdemar was involved in something larger, so my next charge is to search his house for further evidence. The search warrants and permissions are being prepared this morning, and I am off to collect them and my companions shortly.
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
At last, I have ample time to record the happenings of the past day. It has been noteworthy, indeed. We rode into Magnimar in the early evening, escorted to the Blue Bunyip Inn by Ghanafini and his Hellknights, Chad and Nigel. First things first, Velmarius had Ghanafini dismiss the Hellknights. Chad was still seething from his humiliation, and I fear that Velmarius may be dealing with that one again. Ghanafini asked us to come inside for dinner, but Velmarius insisted that he see his mother immediately, requesting that the steward of the inn go to his mother and announce his arrival. The steward had no idea what Velmarius was talking about. At this point, Ghanafini admitted that he had lied…and then proceeded to lie to us further. Something about his father having died, or being ill. I must admit that I did not listen beyond this moment, so great was my desire to arrest him immediately. I did collect myself when I heard Velmarius accept whatever nonsense Ghanafini was spouting, and we began to file into a dining room set for our dinner. We all sat, but no one touched the food or wine, and Ghanafini started to get nervous. At this point, he “suddenly” became best friends with Velmarius, and proceeded to be VERY forecoming with his information. We came to find that, though he was an acquaintance with Velmarius’s family, he was hired by Kaleb Valdemar to bring us to Magnimar. Our wine was drugged with the midnight milk substance I have found that Valdemar has been smuggling, with the plan that we would drink it, Valdemar’s associates would come and collect our bodies, and we would be delivered to Valdemar in a warehouse. With this information, we devised an ambush for the associates that would be coming shortly. Seeing a chance for Valdemar to be captured and his operations to be shut down completely, I suggested to the group that I should report to the Temple of Abadar to request reinforcements, and meet them at the warehouse. The others agreed, and with our plan in motion, I set off for the temple. I arrived to a moderate disturbance at the temple. Apparently, some wizened gnome teleported into the temple during evening services, and he refused to leave without answers...and a meal. My task being urgent, I interjected myself into the commotion, hoping to make my report and requests to my supervisor, Proctor Imikar. Imikar was not concerned with anything I had to say, only that the troublesome gnome was interrupting his service. At this moment, who should arrive but Styrian, who had been following our party from Sandpoint, wanting to know where everyone was. How he knew I would be at the temple, I know not. His reply was something like, “Where else would you be?” Sensing that I would not get an audience until the gnome situation was resolved, I immediately saddled Styrian with the little old gnome, accepting responsibility for him while he remained in Magnimar. This was fine with the gnome, who we came to find was named Balazar, as long as he got some food to eat. Styrian agreed to feed him, and I suggested he make haste to the Blue Bunyip to catch the others, as they may need his help. Upon the departing of Balazar, I was able to make my report to Imikar. He was dismissive of my report on Valdemar’s midnight milk smuggling, and his kidnapping and bodily sacrifices made in the pit of Devil’s Platter. I was about to face a long-winded lecturing on being “the burden from Taldor that I have to babysit” when I pleaded with the proctor that lives were at stake, and Valdemar would escape us to commit even more evil if we did not act swiftly! This seemed to shake him from his prejudiced track of thought, for he assigned me a number of guards to accompany me to the warehouse, with the firm statement that my career would depend upon the outcome of this exercise. My men and I arrived at the warehouse ahead of the rest of the party, and I positioned them within striking distance at each of the warehouse entrances. Just as I was beginning to worry that the ambush did not go off as planned, a large and overburdened wagon approached. This turned out to be the rest of the party, and after a nod to each other, they proceeded to the front of the warehouse. A knock, and gruff words were exchanged, and the front doors were opened to let the wagon inside. At this I gave the signal for the guards to advance. When I made my way through the front, I saw one thug on the ground, and Styrian holding his hand in pain. “He saw through my disguise!” was his explanation. I was about to commend him for quick thinking, but at that moment Ostog threw off the cover and leapt from the wagon, exclaiming something about the stench of some demon. I then heard Balazar say something like, “I told you not to feed him cheese!” as I saw the biggest, purplish, horned, six-limbed badger I have never seen jump out of the wagon. This...was Rummy-tum-tugger. Balazar’s pet that he apparently summoned out of thin air. “Hiya! You worship Abadar, too?” the badger asked me. Wonderful. And it talks, too.
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
Ah! It is good to be in the saddle again! I forced the group to take pause for a moment to sort out all our coins and items from the past few days. No one really took long enough to account for all we had found, and with Kirin whining about needing a magic sword, it seemed best. So, it is with this extra coinage that I bought myself a horse, with tack and harness, and one of those nifty saddles that you can actually sleep in! Or write in, at least...I write this entry from horseback, as we make our way to Magnimar. As it turned out, this mysterious gentleman was merely looking for Velmarius. This had Velmarius extremely agitated, but we all decided to confront this fellow, Anton Ghanafini, at the Rusty Dragon. Vorn shouted his way past the Hellknight in the doorway, and Velmarius somehow made himself invisible and slipped inside with us. We came to find out that this Ghanafini was hired to find Velmarius, although he would not say who...until Velmarius suddenly appeared at the bar! Ghanafini was hired to bring him to see his mother, who was in Magnimar waiting for him. He insisted that they be off at once, and the rest of us insisted that we accompany Velmarius to Magnimar, to be sure of his safety. The Hellknights visibly bristled at this! HA! Velmarius headed up to his room to collect his belongings, closely followed by one of the Hellknights. When they came back down, it appeared that he was now good friends with “Chad”. This happens to Velmarius quite often…and I don’t think it’s merely his “winning personality”. I say this because his “friend” has now exploded in display of rage and obscenities (quite unbefitting for a Hellknight, if I do say so), most focused on Velmarius. It was quite delightful! However, I have had a disturbing revelation. As I looked within, to see if any evil sat in Chad’s being, I saw none. I took a moment, and opened my senses further...and there it was. Evil. Riding right ahead of us. Leading us to Magnimar.
I like the cut of your jib, sir! Although, EVERY upstart country needs the blessings of Abadar! This Nethys thing, no, no, no. This will not do...." Uh, what??? What the blazes am I doing here? Terribly sorry...I seem to be in the wrong thread! Carry on.....
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
Well, this day appears to be finally at an end. While I’d like to be in my own room at the Rusty Dragon, a new development prevents me from doing so, and I write this from the White Deer, a rustic little inn on the outskirts of town, run by a Shoanti man. It is...adequate. But, to continue: After enduring as much as we had, I had turned my mind towards town, seeking rest, recuperation, and a resupply of depleted items. Ostog would have none of it. I suspect others wanted to return to town as well, but after the series of insults I endured from Ostog, the others stayed silent, and we backtracked to the shrieking mold lair to explore the chambers beyond. Before continuing on, many of us stopped to arrange our gear while Ostog and Kirin scouted the passageway ahead. Apparently Kirin found his sense of self-preservation again, for he stopped short at the beginnings of a thick and continuous layer of shrieking mold. Ostog did not. No, he climbed the passage walls and made his way along until he gained a better view of the inner chamber. The sudden shrieking of the mold told us all that he had failed. Between the shrill noise from the floor, and the hooting and chest-beating from the dozens of vegipygmies hanging from the walls, we could only guess that Ostog was up to his bare chest in trouble. Imagine my surprise, however, when I turned the corner to see...Ostog making out with a beautiful, pallid woman. Well, half-woman. The other half appeared to be a stalk growing out from one of the large pods in the chamber. My first impression was that Ostog was merely trying to outdo Velmarius in the “outrageous trysts” category, but I could see that her kiss was not as passionate as it was deadly; Ostog seemed to visible shrivel before us. Split-second urgency propelled us into action! Hazel and Kirin ran forward to flanking positions around what we now term “the Fungus Queen”. Their solid hits were less than effective. Zandu’s shots were muted in effect, as well. Remembering our previous encounter with these plant creatures, I called upon the Justice of Abadar to dwell within my sword, and the light of a holy spirit blazed from its blade, and fire leapt up its length. With this I stepped up to attack. Behind us, Styrian began reciting an exciting and epic accounting of...er, something. Whatever he was babbling on about, he was quite inspiring! Kirin’s continued stabs began to damage the queen somewhat, for she took notice of him, and paused from her embrace with Ostog to call a black resin to form upon her free hand. With this, she reached out a caressed Kirin’s face; the effect was immediate. As Kirin screamed with pain, the queen’s wounds closed. Her actions took her attention away from Ostog, and the brute suddenly came to his senses and attacked her. Velmarius and Imrijka let loose with their remaining spells as well. Kirin and Hazel repeated their coordinated attack. All had minimal effect. Even the flames from my sword did not harm this fungus queen. As the queen drained the life from Kirin once again, Vorn rushed up to heal the dying elf, and earned the gaze of the queen herself. She commanded him to come to her, but the priest put up quite a fight, and prevailed! The battle continued on in a blur, with our attacks landing, but doing minimal damage. Just as our efforts started wear down the queen, she would touch Kirin to heal herself. Styrian ran up to heal Kirin, and was attacked by the tentacles rising from an adjacent mound. Every healing of Kirin was akin to filling a cup for the queen to partake! I eyed Imrijka looking for some way to attack, and recalled her frenzied savage attack against the serpentwoman. I called out to her, and dropped Thundergutter from my belt, hoping that she would see and retrieve it, to join us in the attack. It was at this point that Velmarius did something very surprising: he...attacked. He ran forward and touched the queen, visibly disturbing her efforts. As the damage to the queen mounted once more, she split in half, and released a large cloud of poisonous spores that engulfed the party. I was able to initially resist the cloud, but the spores were too much, and I became sick and weak. Velmarius and Styrian staggered back to Zandu’s position, while the others continued their attacks. I stepped back and called for Abadar’s favor. As it was granted, the cloud of spores cleared, and I stepped forward to continue my attack. The queen continued to suck the life from poor Kirin, who continued to be healed by Vorn. Kirin no longer even made the attempt to stand, and made his sharp stabs and slashes to queen as he lay there, continually dying. Velmarius returned to distract the queen with his strange touch attack, preventing the queen from calling the black life-stealing film to her hands again. This allowed Kirin to make further attempts with his blade as well. Solid blows from the entire party began to take their toll on the fungus queen, and with a final hack from Ostog, she was severed at her base...which then burst in a fountain of slime and ichor. In fact, the entire room burst in a mess of globs and slime. What is it with this place?? Fountains of blood, gore, and...other...unpleasant substances. Fortunately, Velmarius was able to clean both himself and me in no time at all! The party searched through the slime and huge piles of undigested bones for valuable items, and we recovered a good deal of interesting items to be examined and divided later. And so began our long trek back to town...one that even Ostog grudgingly admitted should have taken place earlier. A kiss from an evil fungus queen apparently has the side-effect of humility. Interesting. Upon our arrival to Sandpoint, the party split up. Some of us stopped in at the temple. Unfortunately the priest there was unable to restore our health or Ostog’s drained vigor. I inquired on the safety of Stoot’s vessel and the cursed dagger, which seem to be safe still. We left, and continued on to the inn, but strangely enough were beckoned into an alley by a very shaken Velmarius. He urged us not to go to the inn, as some individuals were there, looking for him. He even went as so far as to offer each of us 1 platinum to visit the local brothel, the Pixie’s ‘Kitty’. Ostog immediately accepted, and rushed off. I attempted to get Velmarius to ‘come clean’ and tell us what kind of trouble he was in, but he neatly sidestepped the issue, told us he would meet us outside the town tomorrow, ran off down the alley. Vorn led the rest of us to the inn, where we were met by...a Hellknight. Apparently they have booked the entire inn for their own use. Typical, really. Those Chelaxian rent-a-thugs really have no concept of “justice for the good of all”. Closing the town’s social and economic center for their own selfish needs is yet another example of their narrow-minded approach. Vorn was the only one permitted inside to retrieve his items. I had a minimal amount inside, so I am content to leave it there…for now. What in the blue blazes did Velmarius DO??
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
It was, at this point, that her guise slipped, and before us was NOT Erika, but a half-woman/half-snake being. I saw Velmarius’s shock, as the hunter suddenly realized he had been the hunted. As the snakewoman backed up, the rest of us set upon her. Calling upon the Golden Fisted One, I hit the creature with the Holy Might of Justice, which was equally answered by...Imrijka? The half-orc mage/scholar had let loose quite the enraged scream, and had bounded forward in a manner reminiscent of...well, of Ostog, actually. The snakewoman begged for mercy, but Velmarius was quite put-out at this point, and with that, Vorn "ended the snake-woman's life with a mighty swing that severed both of her arms and left her lifeblood spurting across the room like a geyser of glory." Satisfactory, Vorn?
You forgot to mention the part where I ended the snake-woman's life with a mighty swing that severed both of her arms and left her lifeblood spurting across the room like a geyser of glory.Maybe he was waiting for you to put it so eloquently! What in the blue blooded blazes??? Are you people READING my journal?? Ah...I see. Styrian is quite secretive with his scribblings, isn't he? Well, I suppose....I really should be flattered that you care enough to make sure the record is straight and our adventures recorded justly and fairly. So, thank you, Vorn, for bringing that to my deficient attention. It was, indeed, a glorious strike, sir. I could not have put it more....ahem...."eloquently" than you just did. I must admit, though, that the Shoanti scholar breaking into a full-blown rage, and then hacking at the corpse more several minutes did cause that lapse in my recall.
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
I believe I can continue my accounting of our reckless exploration of these tunnels, on this day that seems to go on and on and on...a final word on our last encounter, however: Avoid witnessing troglodyte sex AT ALL COSTS. During the fight, Imrijka must have heard, and understood, the large troglodyte refer to something outside the large door leading out of the room, because we had barely caught our collective breaths before she decided to open it and see what the male was talking about. It was a lizard. A very large lizard, a pet apparently, was guarding the door. The summoned dog stood in the doorway to snip and bite at the thing, but then retreated under the nearby table. Hazel stepped up to the beast and traded blows, while I reached around the corner to hack the brute with Thundergutter. The weapon performed quite impressively, delivering the final deathstroke to fell the beast, with a vicious display of sparks. Yes, I think I'll keep it. Looking beyond the doorway, we saw a number of troglodytes who were very disappointed at seeing the lizard so easily defeated, and they prepared to attack…until a voice commanded, “Stop. Leave them to me.” Peering into the chamber beyond, we saw...Erika. Yes, Velmarius’s tavern wench we had been seeking out to rescue from the ghouls. And here she was, in provocative leather armor, commanding troglodytes! Velmarius appeared a bit bewildered at this development at first. I don't know if it was her unexpected presence, or the outfit she was wearing. Erika spoke sweet words to him, which apparently were laced with spellcrafts, as Velmarius visibly shook off the effects and recognized the attack for what it was. He then made various comments disavowing any meaning of their relationship, punctuated by his release of a fireball at her feet. Somehow, she easily avoided the flames altogether, but not so for many of her troglodyte minions. Ostog, true to his way, charged the remaining troglodytes in a rage. The rest of us made our way into the chamber, either facing off against a trog, or heading straight for the trollop-turned-temptress. Vorn charged straight for her, but was stopped short by the five-foot dais she stood upon. I double-timed it to reach the dais, and noticed that Kirin had similarly found his way around the other side of the chamber. As Ostog leapt forward to meet her, Erika subjected him to her feminine wiles. Ostog paused, seemingly transfixed. However, her orders to “Kill them all for me” did not sit well with him, and he shrugged off her attempts, and hit her HARD. It was, at this point, that her guise slipped, and before us was NOT Erika, but a half-woman/half-snake being. I saw Velmarius’s shock, as the hunter suddenly realized he had been the hunted. As the snakewoman backed up, the rest of us set upon her. Calling upon the Golden Fisted One, I hit the creature with the Holy Might of Justice, which was equally answered by...Imrijka? The half-orc mage/scholar had let loose quite the enraged scream, and had bounded forward in a manner reminiscent of...well, of Ostog, actually. The snakewoman begged for mercy, but Velmarius was quite put-out at this point, and with that, she was dead. An investigation of the chamber revealed a vile sanctuary to some evil deity of snakes or some such thing. Styrian went on a length about the history of these snakepeople in the underworld, which fostered an equally boring discussion amongst the others. I left and took Kirin with me to investigate the chest in the sinful bedchamber. Kirin seemed quite confident that it was a simple enough task, but wound up triggering a poison trap in the process. To his credit, he did take it in stride, and continued to open the lock. We inventoried the contents, and returned to the others. Velmarius and Ostog seemed determined to deal with whatever was lurking behind another door in the chamber that was sealed up with some hissing noises coming from behind it. The rubble was cleared, and the door opened to reveal…hundreds and hundreds of snakes that began to flow out. Velmarius panicked and shot streams of fire from his fingertips – straight into Ostog’s back. Alchemist fire suddenly flew in random directions, setting more of us on fire than the snakes. Several of us were poisoned in that chaotic minute, as well. All agreed that the hissing should have satisfied us alone. Ostog declared that he wanted to open it to ensure that none of Velmarius’s children lived. Ah, Ostog...always the diplomatic one. Further exploration reveals that we are in the Pit on the Devil’s Platter again, but deeper down. The tunneling in this area is extensive, then! While I expressed my desire to return to the town for rest and more provisions, the rest of the party wished to remain and explore further. Upon Vorn’s suggestion, it was agreed that he attempt to speak with the corpse of the snakewoman, to determine if she was Erika, or merely assuming her form. The questioning is going on at this moment, and is relatively worthless, other than learning that this was NOT Erika, and that the one known as Kanker has her...and that she is probably for all purposes dead by this time. Well, Velmarius looks relieved. I am told we are off to the fungus rooms again. Apparently, one encounter with the salad people was not enough. More later.
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
This morning, we set off for the Paupers’ Graves again, to enter the tunnels and search for Erika, Snorri, and more of the ghoul infestation. Hazel, the mercenary maiden that Hemlock recommended, rejoined our group to assist in hunting down the ghouls. I hadn’t noticed before, but she wields two maces. While I might be inclined to comment on this oddity, I have a feeling that Hazel would take it upon herself to show me how equally odd it would be to be on the receiving end of that combination. Today I hefted Thundergutter. It is a fine weapon, but wielding it makes me feel so...rustic. Like an Andoran lumberjack. I feel like I should go chop down a tree, or whatever those Andoran bumpkins do. Still, a fine weapon. The mages told me that it is particularly deadly to animals, and will deliver a jolt of electricity to whatever I hit. I had ample opportunity to see that, firsthand, today. We wandered in the tunnel system for hours. None of us really had any idea where we were under the earth, in relation to the surface. We eventually came upon a split; each avenue with a particularly unique and equally unpleasant odor. A musty, decaying smell, or a fecal waste smell. Most agreed that the musty smell was preferable. Following this passage a bit further, we came upon a chamber draped in a strange blanket of mold, with large patches and mounds underneath. Ostog took a running jump and cleared the pile blocking the entrance to the chamber. Vorn and Hazel safely jumped over the mold. I was rather worried that I would be the one to fall headfirst into the slime, but Imrijka managed to do that first. The result was two-fold. First, the mold started shrieking. Yes. The mold. This triggered the second result: small moldy creatures bursting from the mounds and setting upon us. Imrijka quickly escaped from the mold and fled back behind us, yet casually and academically mentioning that we were being attacked by vegepygmies. I rushed forward to attack, but misjudged the mold, and slipped anyway. Three of the strange creatures attacked, but were quite ineffective at harming me. I regained my footing and chopped one down, as I moved further into the chamber. I was able to see by the glow of the mold that Vorn and Hazel were fighting more. It was then that I saw the effectiveness of two maces at work...impressive! Zandu’s arrows did little to stop the small plant persons, so he drew a weapon and engaged them. Velmarius seemed displeased with the mold, and stayed back in the passage to avoid any contact. Still, he did manage to throw some of his magic missiles into the fray. It was at this time that Ostog started yelling about “more coming”. The “more” in this case was the biggest demonic fungus I have ever seen. I managed to hear Imrijka gasp something like, “Ah, how fascinating! A basidirond!” And then it was upon Ostog, lashing out with its...feet? Roots? Vines??? Ostog seemed to be hitting his stride in the fight (which means he was taking it as much as he was giving it) when the basidirond belched forth a noxious cloud, causing Ostog to start choking. Vorn quickly moved to assist Ostog, but suddenly fell to the ground and started to swim on the dirt floor. Both of them continued to behave rather silly, despite the large, carnivorous plant attacking them. With the other vegepygmies put down, we all moved forward to engage the basidirond...well, all of us except Velmarius, of course. Imrijka took some of that learning of hers and applied it against the creature, emitting a blast of cold at it, thus slowing it and preventing it from producing more of that cloud that had Vorn screaming “I’m melting!! AHHHH, I’m melting!!” Needless to say, I was in no hurry to make an ass out of myself, so I pulled out my crossbow, and shot one “for Abadar” at the big plant, staying clear of the cloud of crazy. With some effort, mostly by Ostog, we managed to destroy the freakish plant and gather ourselves before Ostog commented that it sounded like MORE of the little salad people were coming our way. At this, we decided to backtrack and follow the other passage at the split. The smell was NOT encouraging. As we proceeded, the others noted that the passageway looked familiar, much like those they encountered under the Valdemar mansion. There, they found a secret door in a certain spot, and so, looking in a similar spot in this passageway, a similar secret door was found here. Upon its opening, we were met with sounds and smells most repulsive. At first, I was convinced that we had finally found proof that creatures do indeed use a lavatory in their lairs, and that this one was in use! Alas, if that were only true. The secret passageway turned out to be a dead end, but closer inspection revealed a second hidden door! As we opened this second door, the smells and sounds went from repulsive to…sordidly repulsive. For it was quite clear then that two creatures were fornicating. Not only that…I could detect that it was two EVIL creatures fornicating, making their naughty spawn! Imrijka worked her way forward to peek through the curtain that initially spared my eyes from this sight, but her gawking gave us away, and we were forced to work our way into this den of evil lust to fight the massive male troglodyte and his “mate”. Fighting room was limited, and as we grouped around them to engage in combat, they released a horrid foamy excretion that sickened many of us. I declared Abadar’s holy justice upon the male, and began to move forward to claim a place in the crowded room where I could strike it down. For some reason, Imrijka determined that summoning a dog would be helpful, and therefore the room became even more crowded. The female was killed quickly, which only enraged the male further (but thank Abadar he wasn’t aroused further!), and poor Ostog the Unarmored took the brunt of the attacks. Between Ostog, Vorn, and myself, the male was finally put down. And Velmarius, of course, stayed out in the outer hallway, very much displeased with the odors. I wish I would have joined him, just this once. I will continue this account later, as I now feel a little ill just writing about that last part.
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
It appears that we have had a bit of time this day to regroup, so I will make some notes and observations about our newest member, Imrijka. She is definitely a spellcaster, as she can summon a celestial eagle to aid her. Speaking with her (when not rudely interrupted by Ostog), she is a Shoanti savage, albeit one that has taken to cultured ways, studying in Riddleport as a cyphermage. At this point, Imrijka began carrying on about runes, mysteries, and such, and although I did my best to be polite, it was quite tiring to feign interest. My mention of studying at the university in Oppara seemed to suggest a kindred spirit for her. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I rarely had interest in the classes, let alone attending. Still, a cultured savage is quite intriguing, and I, for one, welcome her to the group. Ostog, however, seems to be utterly confused by Imrijka. Apparently, the half-orc part is throwing him a bit. So far, he is unable to refer to her in any other way than “that troll”, “witch”, and the ever complex “troll-witch”. Velmarius and I have been able to ascertain that Ostog refers to many things as “trolls”. Orcs are trolls. Ogres, trolls. Hobgoblins and bugbears...trolls, as well. Compared to Ostog, Imrijka seems downright cosmopolitan! The highlight today was, of course, Ostog’s funeral procession for his fallen comrades. Velmarius and I took up a superior vantage point to watch Ostog, and the unrest he often stirs up in this quaint little town. His primary goal was to secure a boat for his needs. He quickly found an old fisherman, Barnabus, that was looking to retire and pass his fishing boat, the Emily Rose (named for his dearly departed wife) on to the next generation. Ostog assured him that the boat would be put to the most honorable and noble use possible, and thus he emptied his pockets to purchase the vessel from the old man. Then, and only after the transaction was complete, did Ostog begin his inquiries for large amounts of oil and flammable materials. The old man nearly passed on when he learned that Ostog was not, in fact, interested in the fine procession of fishing, but intended to use the Emily Rose as a floating funeral pyre for eight barbarian corpses! Barnabus’s outrage was obvious. He stormed off and brought Sheriff Hemlock back to undo the sale, but Hemlock did believe that such a duty would be as high an honor as Emily Rose could serve. And thus, as Velmarius and I sat and sampled his wondrous vintage (where does he GET this marvelous wine?) we did watch the Emily Rose go up in flames in the Sandpoint harbor, with nearly the entire town looking on. I will say this: Ostog did well by his friends. Under that thick-headed, barely-dressed persona does lie a man of honor, it seems. Shortly afterwards, Velmarius freely volunteered to send off Ostog in a similar fashion…it was not clarified whether that would be before or after Ostog’s passing, however. Somehow, the comment surprised no one; a testament to Velmarius’s “people skills”.
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
Ostog has taken notice that I am writing an accounting of our ventures, and is demanding that I immortalize his kin in my journal. So far, he has questioned my lineage, my manhood, and my god as I have largely ignored him. Therefore, to keep this from escalating, I will now write the names of the fallen kinsman of Ostog the Unslain, his brothers who joined in opposition of Girt Bear-Wearer. Hrolf Harfargr
Oh, Ostog now insists that Snorri’s body was not among them, so he still may live. I pointed out that surely Snorri would have died rather than leave his armor behind. Ostog has responded by headbutting my table in half, and passing out. I will take this opportunity to retire.
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
I am beginning to think that there is something wrong with this town. Locals tend to refer to a series of incidents years ago that resulted from Stoot’s murders and a large fire that destroyed the town (due in part to the demon-worshipping daughter of the former priest of Desna...ah, the charms of rural life) as “The Unpleasantness”. That they have no catchy phrase for the goblin raids that followed, nor the attack by stone giants...well, I should not be surprised, then, that Sandpoint now appears to be infested with ghouls and foul demons that thirst for its destruction. It's that small town charm, I'm sure. Today, we ventured to Paupers’ Graves. Upon our arrival , we were set upon by more of those ghoul dogs. The group made quick work of those, to be sure; but, we were not expecting a large black shape with highly disturbing moon-like eyes to rise from the thicket and pronounce quite clearly in our minds an ultimatum to leave Varisia and never return, or suffer death. Oh, and to leave the strange demented elf behind as its plaything. Kirin had only so many words to convey his feelings on the matter, but it was, of course, Ostog the Outspoken, who bellowed out his refusal, along with the other nonsense that usually follows. The creature responded in kind, summoning more undead from the thickets. However, these particular corpses were waterlogged and bloated...and completely familiar to Ostog! He let loose with a barrage of his barbaric gutterals...which I later found out to be the names of the dead ones lurching towards us. (It was an honest misunderstanding. Really, how was I to know those were names?) A particularly menacing dead one advanced upon me, wielding a smoking greatsword. As Ostog called to this one, a “Hrolf Harfargr”, I summoned the vengeance of Abadar and took the foul thing’s head in one blow. More of Ostog’s dead kinsmen set upon us, but all were dispatched in short time. During this time, a stranger rushed into the fight. This concerned many of us, but as she focused her attacks upon the undead, it appeared that we gained an ally! This displeased the mothman in the tree, and it proceeded to play mind games with us, and Kirin in particular, as we attempted to rush it. Many of Zandu’s shots failed to find their mark, and the newcomer summoned a great shining eagle to assail it from the air. With the demon in the tree, or in the air as it attempted to flee, there was little I could do other than swear an oath to it that should it come to ground to face me, I would dispense Abadar’s justice upon it. Not that it complied. Instead, Ostog pursued it with his usual reckless abandon. It fled to the large tree in the graveyard; Ostog climbed the tree...with the aforementioned greatsword of old Hrolf. And there, in a tree, with Kirin joining him, Ostog slew the shadowy moth-man. Very messily. The remainder of our time this evening was being subjected to Ostog recounting the names of each and every “oarsman” that we slew, although Ostog insists that we acknowledge that these were NOT his oarsmen, but defiled corpses of his oarsmen. He made a great production of this, and had several of the group assist him in hauling their bodies back to town, so that he could give them a traditional burial. That should be worth seeing, for sure. A thorough search of the graveyard turned up a small cache of items belonging to Ostog’s kinsmen. The greatsword of Hrolf Harfargr, Gnarlfang. Snorri Snurllson’s chainmail that made him unkillable. And Girt Bear-Wearer’s magical axe, Thundergutter. We also discovered a tunnel entrance at the base of the great tree in the graveyard, with a piece of ripped cloth that was likely from the dress of Erika. Alas, we had pushed ourselves through fight after fight this day, and all of us decided to return to the inn for rest. Tomorrow, we see what Ostog plans with the bodies of his oar-brothers. And, we return to the ghoul tunnels.
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar
Well, THAT was quite...unusual. Helpful? It is somewhat hard to tell that...these strange gypsy games can be nonsensical at times. Madame Mvashti is a fascinating crone, full of prophecy and portents, be they true or merely so because a person wishes it to be. If I had not been informed of the seemingly real magic that follows these cards, I may have dismissed it as a silly, rural folk game, but these Harrow cards carry a power about them that I must admit impress me quite a bit. Mvashti first had us each draw a card, and then she, in her wild, gypsy ways took each card and explained our basic natures, our pasts, and our path to the future. Some of these made perfect sense. My card was The Dance. Mvashti proceeded to tell me that I am a man driven by order, that I have a planned path to meet my goals. This was a given, being that I AM a servant of Abadar. This is not hard to figure out. However, she warned me that I must let the PATH take ME to goal, not to chart the path to the goal myself. This seemed fair advice, and I will keep this in mind. Likewise, Styrian drew The Courtesan, which made perfect sense. The others had drawn odd cards...Vorn, the Idiot. Velmarius, the Queen Mother (which delighted Ostog to no end, no surprise there). Kirin, the Big Sky (appropriate I guess, given his crazed obsession with birds). Zandu, the Carnival. And Ostog, The Owl. The lout, given his uncultured ways, embraced this concept fully, thus changing his “title” to Ostog the Unslain, Owl of the North, or some such nonsense. I doubt he actually heard what the card meant, he was so taken with the symbolism. Hopefully we will not have to stop him from trying to twist his head around entirely. I doubt Velmarius would care, actually. The gypsy woman reshuffled our cards back into the deck, and laid out our Past, Present, and Future. From what I could gather from this reading, we are destined for something epic. There is no choice in this, for we are being forced into action, to move on and take the battle to the enemy, which to this point has been The Big Sky. However, the larger enemy is responsible, and is in darkness, perhaps underground. We are not bound by our pasts or possession, and the enemy will find it difficult to control us, for we are free, observant, and aware of the evil. We left the reading feeling oddly empowered, as if we had gained the will and perception of what lay ahead of us, given freely to us through the cards. As for what to do with the vessel containing Stoot, and the cursed bird dagger…the old woman suggested holy ground at the cathedral. Apparently, the heroes of Sandpoint blessed and consecrated the grounds several years ago, and that should hold Stoot and the evil force within the dagger until we can deal with them properly. So, we headed to the cathedral to speak with Abstalar Zantus. He explained that the protections cast on the ground ran deep under the cathedral, and that we could store our items (for we could not dare tell him what we had) in the partially completed, and completely unused catacombs underneath the cathedral. Moving a stack of barrels from a trapdoor, we proceeded downstairs to scope out a possible storage area for our evil baggage. Several deep cracks ran throughout the catacombs, rising from the depths of the ground, up into the cathedral area. Many of us found this unnerving. As we proceeded further down the passageways, we left the protected area, and came upon a crudely unfinished room with debris piled in the middle. An unnatural stench began to assault us, and from behind us, an unseen passageway suddenly opened, revealing vile undead ghouls, led by one distinctly better dressed. As he ordered the ghouls, and their ghoulish dogs as well, to kill us all, Zandu let loose several arrows that struck the leader full on, dropping him where he stood, while his minions moved to attack us. The battle was fast and quick. Velmarius made quick work of some of the ghouls, burning them with flames shooting from his hands, while the rest of the party worked together to finish off the rest. After much discussion about following the newly revealed passage to the source of the ghouls, it was decided that we must inform Zantus of his ghoul problem, and have him personally secure the vessel of Stoot and the dagger within the cathedral itself. It appears that we have also decided to pick up the task of locating the missing Erika, as well, and will be heading up to Paupers Graves shortly. I pray that she is still alive.
The ghost summoned his damned plague of crows, and for a brief moment, all were fighting sickly feathers of filth and decay. That is, until Styrian let loose a tremendous explosion of sound that sent the birds popping in puffs of feather and gore. Most impressive, if not a little messy. The ghost bellowed in hatred, but his terror-inducing screams did not break my oath or resolve, and I continued the attack. Even as the specter’s claws would seek my heart to claw it out, my faith in the Judge pressed the attack. It seemed that the fight was well for our side…until Kirin pulled a strange flaming dagger with birdlike shapes, and plunged it into the ghost. His shrill scream of triumph turned to one of terror and despair, as the evil spirit gained strength from the blow, and the chest of poor, deranged Kirin opened with a fresh wound. Stoot’s ghost whispered that it had found its new vessel, and attempted to possess Kirin, but was stopped short; perhaps by Vorn’s protections, or perhaps by something else. Velmarius quickly neutralized the crazed elf from the fight, and the rest of us renewed our attacks. Vorn succumbed to a vicious attack that I myself had narrowly escaped, ghostly claws ripping his flesh. Sending out a burst of healing, Vorn kept the party on task, and eventually the ghost howled in defeat and escaped in a whirlwind through a closed door. In the adjoining room to which it fled, we found a sleeping chamber in gross condition. A number of dead bodies (Velmarius tells me they were criminals and tax evaders...the scum!) were found on the bed and floor, eyes plucked, hands and feet severed. Apparently the sheriff possessed sacrificed the less-than-innocent to this bird demon, which Styrian and Vorn tell me is called “Pazuzu”. Seeking out the retreating evil, I came to find it in a small statue-like vessel resting on the table in the room. I also noticed that the strange dagger Kirin had been using also emanated evil. As I took it from him, I first felt the evil try to take me, but I swear that I was too good and too strong for it to do so, so as long as it remained under my control. Then...I found myself in some gypsy woman’s parlor of tricks, with the others there as well. The old woman, who I have come to find out is named Madame Mvashti, was yelling something about evil magic from the vessel containing the ghost of Stoot, and the strange flaming bird dagger. And I fully agree. My perceived strength was a failure. Evil clouded my mind, and I cannot recall anything from the time I picked up the dagger. Apparently, we gathered ourselves and returned to the town to seek out the help from this mystic woman. While I committed no evil during that time, I was removed from the fight. This demonic force cannot be taken lightly again! For now, we await the Madame Mvashti, as she prepares herself and us for a reading of the Harrow, to tell us what we are fighting against, and how to defeat it. This...can help us all. I hope.
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar 10 – Pharast Needed to take a little time here to recount our latest encounter with evil! This momentous day has progressed as so: Despite the biting sense of urgency to march over to the island, and vanquish the ghost of Stoot, we took a bit of time to clean up, rest, and recollect ourselves. And Velmarius. He seemed...well rested. He was slightly interested in our midnight showdown with the sheriff possessed, but not so much to distract him from his greater concern for the sister of the barmaid with whom he frequents his time. It appears “Erika” (or at least that what he thinks the girl’s name is, the lout) has gone missing. As most of the group was busy steeling themselves to face down the horrid specter, I found no need, as I was completely confident in my abilities to overcome such evil. Now, a missing girl...THAT seemed an immediate concern! In my daily round with the merchants and businesses, I inquired after her, and came to find that the stableman, Daviren Hosk, had seen her a day past, walking out on the old road towards a cemetery named “Paupers Graves”. Given the sheriff’s previous state of possession, I further inquired if the sheriff had gone that way as well (simply explaining that I would hate to follow up on a lead the sheriff had already covered). It was so. He saw the sheriff going that way shortly thereafter. I sense no good for this Erika. A slight note here: this Hosk is an odd fellow with a slightly disturbing hobby of collecting goblins (or at least parts of them). It appears that his prized item is a whole goblin chieftain, “pickled” in a large jar of brine. He offered me a bounty for any parts of goblins I slay, but reconsidered in that he would be denied the pleasure of the killing. His request for me to bring him a captive goblin back, so that he may slay it himself, marked an end our bizarre conversation. However, I must ponder the business angles of offering a “bounty” on goblins…security and profit make good incentives to the stability of a community. This can help us all... The group reorganized in town, with Ostog apparently having wandered off to commune with northly barbarian pastimes or some such uncivilized activity. Hemlock recommended an able and eager young mercenary woman to aid our task in the meantime. She apparently took a liking to Vorn. The group at first thought to pursue this lead to Paupers Graves, but Kirin, who managed to rejoin the group after his recovery from some fever or poisoning, panicked greatly, wailing about some large red seagull that kept following him. The group seemed to agree that a search for a barmaid was not nearly as great as vanquishing the ghost of an evil serial killer (which I must wholeheartedly agree), so it was off to the fish market to secure boats for the trip out to Chopper’s Rock from a talkative fellow by the name of Turch Sterglus. He seems a friendly man, well enough, although his pricing started out a bit too high. This may require a return visit, with closer inspection of the facility, and his fish wares.... After renting the rowboats and paddling our way to the island, we made our way up a treacherous flight of carved steps to the ruins of Stoot’s house. Little remained other than the foundation...and a spent campsite, hidden away from view of the town. The sharp and experienced eyes of Zandu spotted boot tracks leading to a covered and locked door. (Simply incredible skill, that is; I could see nothing of the sort!) Kirin attempted to open the lock, but it seemed that the birds in the area were speaking to him, or some such nonsense. That one is not right in the head...red gulls, talking birds. CRAZY. Not willing to delay our task any longer, I hacked the wooden cover to pieces, to reveal a very dark and deep shaft. Vorn and I secured our ropes, and Vorn invoked the blessing of his Lord of Iron to protect us from the evil influences of Stoot’s ghost before we descended. Once below, we found a table with various tools of murder and maiming, some still sticky with blood. Many long thin razors, which I broke to prevent further use. The group could hear and feel the passage of air down one of the three passageways, so we investigated. What we found was a small desk and chair by a natural opening looking out over the sea. The desk had a number of books, including a book of poems (which excited Styrian to no end) and a large heavy book coated in blood with many disturbing images. Turning back to the central chamber, we crossed it to take the opposite passage, which led us to a chamber reeking of evil. A crude altar stood at one end, flanked by two hideous statues of a birdlike demon, and covered with a number of...eyeballs. I focused my sight to search out the evil, and found it pouring from the statue on the left. At this revelation, the statue lurched forward and made its attack! Calling for the strength of the Gold-Fisted One, I swore my oath of justice to cleanse the world of this evil and set myself upon the figure. With short work, the group broke the wooden idol of evil in twain, releasing the vile spirit of Jervis Stoot into the chamber.
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar 10 - Pharast The foulness is indeed worse than imagined. Evil threatens this town again. And it is a cowardly, craven evil revisted. I pen this entry on the morn following our meeting with the tainted Hemlock. We arrived early to the ruins, a giant crumbling base of an ancient lighthouse perched on the edge of the seacliffs. As the hour approached, several of the group noticed an unusual number of birds roosting in the ruins. It soon became apparent that their presence was definitely NOT to our benefit, for the mass of black crows suddenly launched themselves at our numbers. There is no just way to fight birds. None. As we danced about the ruins in an attempt to avoid the pecking, scratching, foul, diseased mess of feathers attacking us, Styrian spotted something off the cliff side, which attempted to grab him and pull him over to dash his body on the rocks below. It was the sheriff, hovering out over the sea. Styrian avoided such a fate, thanks to some very well placed shots by Zandu. However, Ostog the Unflying welcomed such fate, for he threw himself off the cliff at the floating sheriff to fight and wrestle him in midair! That fellow is MAD! But, in his madness, he did manage to weigh the floating lawman down enough that they began sinking to the rocky shore below. It was just as well…the tainted Hemlock came prepared to fight an unfair fight. He apparently controlled the birds, for they renewed their attacks on the rest of us. I tried to place a few shots of my own, but was unable to strike. Gorn secured a rope to climb down to the seashore below, to assist in the fight, but fell a short distance. The leaping and swinging Ostog continued his attacks, while Zandu somehow calmed a good number of the foul birds to remain still. Amid the flurry of arrows from Zandu, and the battle-mad swings of Ostog’s sword, the tainted sheriff finally fell. And from his falling form came a horrid crow-like spectre with a misshapen human-bird face, pulling itself free from the body of Hemlock…through the evil gash on his head. The spectre extended its wings and screamed a terrifying cry, causing many of my companions much fear. Then, it fled on wing, to the island home of the killer Stoot, and with it, went the mass of crows. We recovered the sheriff, with Gorn’s healing energy, and my laying of hands. With the exit of the spirit, which we can only assume is the ghost of Stoot returned, Hemlock is untainted again. The sheriff has no memory of his actions since the mechanical bird struck him on the head. This would mean that the evil spirit possessing him also sent my new companions off to clear the caverns on the Devil’s Platter. This is very troubling, and none of us understands its purpose in the scheme of things. Nevertheless, Hemlock has requested our help further: to pursue the evil Stoot to his old abode, and destroy him once and for all. It is a request I will happily accept.
Entry from the travel journal of Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar 9 - Pharast I find myself back in the midst of civilization again! Glorious! Sandpoint is a quaint town, complete with modest commerce. The prices seem fair and reasonable, and I see little that the Church would be concerned with, outside of the strangeness that this town has seen in the past. Goblin raids, serial killers, giants…it is a wonder that it still stands! Ah, but it is a testament to the spirit of civilization, to put order and law where there is none. Hail, the Lawgiver! The local priest has tended to my new companions that were inflicted with the “gibbering gout”. Apparently, Ostog has had a vision of Desna, for the oaf is bragging and boasting that he could see up her dress or some such nonsense. Velmarius had disappeared at the inn for a good time, but he emerged this morning, vaguely concerned about the sister of the woman he is busy keeping the attentions of. She has apparently gone missing. This is of greater concern to me, given the events of the past days, and Valdemar’s foul sacrificing on the Devil’s Platter. As we started our search, we spotted the informant, Grump, at the marketplace. Although he was quite helpful to me, my companions claim that he lied to them, so it was understandable that they would want a few choice words with him. The fellow seems to have lost a foot, though. He claims that shortly after my talk with him, goblins attacked his homestead, and lamed him. The animosity the party presented to Grump would have led me to believe that any discussion would have merely led to a sound beating, but to my surprise, Grump and Velmarius proved to be fast friends! Many facts were laid bare, and enough was learned that Vorn felt the need to inform the town’s lawman, a Belor Hemlock, immediately. As we attempted to gain entrance to the local constabulary, the door guard informed us that the “sheriff” (how delightful rural!) was ill and not taking visitors. Gorn was fairly effective in mustering rank on the poor fellow, and we made our way to the sheriff’s chambers. The man did indeed seem ill-ish, but he seemed rather dismissive of Valdemar’s activities, and even more so with my presence in Sandpoint. In fact, I believe I was told to leave Sandpoint! I have full respect for the local law, but no “sheriff” can merely dismiss Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar! This reaction to our concerns seemed to catch the rest of my companions off-guard, as well. I instantly suspected that Valdemar must have charmed or compromised the poor lawman, as did many of the others. Using the sight granted to me by The Judge himself, I focused on the sheriff to see any taint in his heart. No…not his heart…but his head! There, on the side of his head, a long gash of…evil! How strange, I thought. As I was doing this, Ostog the Unclothed managed to loudly voice his suspicions to the tainted lawman, uttering what could only be taken as a challenge. Subtlety is entirely lost to him. Surprisingly, this challenge was accepted, and we are to meet Hemlock-the-Tainted within the ruins of an old Thassalonian lighthouse at the edge of town…at midnight. We are now in our down time, waiting for the appointed hour. In our conversations, I mentioned the “evil wound” on Hemlock’s head. This has alarmed the others, for it seems that they found a mechanical bird in the Valdemar Manor, assembled it, and activated it as well. The bird then immediate attacked the approaching sheriff – wounding him in the very spot I saw tainted! This does not bode well. But for now, we wait.
Entry 2 of Sandpoint activities - Varisian Tour of Duty A harrowing day, indeed. This party appears to have a penchant for stumbling across evil. If one party needed aid in their travels, it is this one! As we settled in for a night in the storeroom, Zandu detected an unseen intruder attempting to open the door. Quickly, he woke us, and he, myself, and Ostog took up the pursuit. Zandu was hit by a barbaric and crude device, essentially a club on a rope, which wrapped around his neck and cracked him in the head. As he fell, he was dragged toward the ledge. I attempted to cut the rope, but it was too dark and I missed. Ostog was able to free Zandu, and witnessed a small whitish creature with large white eyes fleeing into the pit below. It was determined that the little beasty was likely hunting for “food”. It was with this information that we returned to rest. Upon the turn of the morning, we discussed our journeys. I relayed my investigations of Valdemar, and the interview with Grump that led me to the Platter. To my shock, the party was following a similar, although less focused, investigation of Valdemar’s activities, specifically his drug smuggling of this “midnight milk”. Seeing the hand of the Judge in this, I expressed my duty and wish to assist them in their actions. We also discussed this battle they had with a monstrous pile of eyes and mouths in the cavern in which I was imprisoned. I admit I was a tad skeptical of such a wild description, so we returned to the cavern so that I may see the aftermath for myself. Of this Ostog seemed insistent. Indeed, the dissolved remains of something rather large was there, but more foul was the reeking of evil emanating from the altar in the cavern. Vorn insisted that I leave it be, and despite my strong desire to destroy it, I did not disturb it. There was a large pool of greenish filth from which the creature originated, but the group agreed that it was less deadly in absence of the creature. The pool trailed off into a passage, and Ostog waded into the pool to investigate the passage. It appeared that they were all going to let him wander off alone, so I insisted that we accompany him. Vorn and Zandu agreed, but Velmarius refused to soil his finery, and opted to uncork a bottle of vine and remain a spectator. I begin to see why he is unliked. Still, the wine choice WAS quite nice. We traced the passage back to a chamber that contained the source of the greenish slime, complete with a gaunt, tall creature that whispered in our minds that it was the “all-father”, the servant of Shub-Niggurath, and it demanded that we kneel in the pools of green slime and become its children….a wholly unappealing invitation. Ostog fought this suggestion, which seemed to enrage him, and he attacked the demon, only to find his attach ineffective…which enraged him even more. Vorn cast protection upon Ostog, and Zandu let loose with his arrows. I called upon the Gold-Fisted One to smite this evil, and landed a solid and damaging blow that cut it to its evil core. Heartened by this, Ostog and Zandu continued their attacks. The creature, however, focused its evil into my mind, freezing me in place and raking me with its claws. I stood helplessly as it turned its attention towards Ostog and began battering him. Vorn joined in the fight, healing Ostog to keep him up and swinging, and finally, with Ostog’s blows and Zandu’s arrows, the horror gave a hideous scream and died in an unreal display of green liquid. It was not without costs, though, for Vorn and Ostog were given a horrible disease that caused them to sprout extra eyes and mouths on their bodies…thus starting the transformation into the very beast they destroyed earlier! Upon this turn of events, we travelled to Sandpoint, to seek the aid of the higher priest in charge. And, alas, Velmarius drank all of that excellent vintage while we battled. How rude!
Varisian Tour of Duty Howell B. Talbot III, Servant of Abadar This entry is a long time coming, as I was until most recently imprisoned by some rather shortish fiends who stooped to such levels as to ambush me AND poison me whilst I was tailing that most unsavory of individuals, Kaleb Valdemar, to the Devil’s Platter. Apparently, Valdemar’s operations go far beyond those of tax evasion in Magnimar, or even drug smuggling in Sandpoint. It would seem that human sacrifice will be added to that list, as well. Tailing Valdemar to his family’s seat in Sandpoint, I discovered from an interview with the incredibly rural, but quite helpful, Farmer Grump that Valdemar makes the trip to Sandpoint each month. He pays Grump handsomely to hide him and see to his needs during his stay, needs that always turn carnal…and vile. Grump informed me, as is his duty under the strict laws and code of civilized behavior, that Valdemar always takes a “lady of ill repute” during his stays, and departs in the middle of the night with them to the local destination called the Devil’s Platter. He always returns alone. Sensing foul deeds afoot, I staked out Grumps homestead, and trailed Valdemar with his paid-for companion to the Devil’s Platter. There, I witnessed him take the woman to the edge of a large pit with caverns below…and jump! Quickly, I rushed to the edge to determine their fate, but instead I was waylaid by foul little demons with long noses, and equally large daggers. As I said, poison was at play, and I quickly succumbed to the little beasts. They stripped me of my gear, armor, and weapons, and tossed me into a cell. During what I can only imagine to be days upon days, my ears endured inhuman and indecent sounds. The unfortunate woman’s screams still echo in my head. But today…today, Abadar gave me a turn of His Key, for I was freed by a courageous, yet odd bunch of fellows. Led by Vorn, a follower of Gorum, and deputized by the local lawman, the group came to the caverns as exterminators. Their sweep of the caves led them to the cavern that my cell occupied, and a great battle took place there. Some horrid blob of a thing with eyes and mouths everywhere, and acidic secretions that burned the skin. A wild tale indeed. This party is a confusing lot of contrasts. On one hand, that Velmarius fellow is obviously a man of good and fine tastes, displaying civility and refinement that I can understand and appreciate; yet, the man is regarded with much loathing and displeasure, which he returns in full. Many of his companions question his usefulness altogether. Curious. And then there is Ostog. The Unslain. Obviously. A savage from the North, this wildman is barely clothed, brandishing his nipples as much as he brandishes his axe. He seems utterly crude and brutish, sporting a stature that could truly be intimidating; however, he appears to be quite sickly and weak at the moment. By the grace granted to me by my Lord, I healed him of some of his wounds, as a token of my thanks…this can help us all. Not surprisingly, Ostog is ignorant of the Gold Fisted One. I forsee one that I can bring to order and civilization during my tour in Varisia! The others have remained quiet in our first hours together, as they are recovering from the battle that bought my freedom. Zandu, the ranger, is quite intent on his task of clearing the caverns. Styrian, a talespinner and orator, was unusually quiet, despite Ostog’s demand that he sing of his heroics of the day. Kirin is a sneaky, silent one…with years of that disposition, the elf will bear watching. I end this entry as we secure ourselves in an upper cavern storeroom for the night. I might have wished to continue back to Sandpoint, but the group is determined the pest control duties in earnest in the morning. So it is judged. |
