tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36992322012-02-06T21:45:32.765-08:00zeebo's journalBeing the ongoing journal of the life and adventures of one Zeebo Kantelleki of Whale Roost, a gnomish rogue.Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comBlogger601100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-2001016962003-04-05T09:13:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.093-08:00Zeebo's Journal has moved
All of Zeebo's Journal is now at Uncle Bear, including the latest entries, all of the entries in an easy-to-read PDF file, and blockstats for Zeebo himself. Enjoy!
Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-903833062003-02-28T00:45:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.100-08:00I'd love to excite you with the thrilling details of Fail and Derek's battle with the shadow demon, but I wasn't there. Needless to say, they won.
Soon after, an orc band attacked. Falin and Derek worked out a tactic where Falin took to the trees to cast spells while Derek stayed on the ground as bait (and to engage in close combat). This reportedly worked very well, and the orcs were wiped outBerin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-903833042003-02-27T06:44:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.107-08:00Alchemy is a delicate business. Many substances are toxic on their own, moreso in combination. My wagon/workshop was designed for my use alone, but on our quest it's served as general headquarters for the entire party. Lo Fan takes up considerable space on the floor; Falin and Derek, for all of their vaunted stealth outdoors, are clumsy in the confines of a space designed for gnomes.
Thus it Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-903601792003-02-25T01:23:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.112-08:00Myroc's forces have finally arrived. To show how deranged my brother is, he sent a brace of soldiers and two large clockwork serpents to assault us; surely someone with a functioning brain would have held these forces back for the defense of Whale Roost, or at least contributed them to the liberation of Jandar, or to the war effort in general. Were there any organization to this war effort, I'd Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-903601842003-02-24T01:24:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.118-08:00We've found allies. This fact should hearten me, but it does not.
As we left the region of the Jade Swamp, we realized we were being followed. Derek drew his bow and picked off a few of the stalkers, whom we discovered to be kobolds. They were apparently servants of the hag I slew when we'd first entered the swamp. Rather than seeking to avenge her, they came to prostate themselves before the Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-903601862003-02-23T01:24:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.123-08:00Lo Fan remains in a coma. Falin is absorbed in self-interest, and while I cannot blame him, his lack of focus on matters at hand has the potential to become a liability to our mission. Through his own mysterious sources, Falin has learned that the elvish isle has fallen to the demonic kin of Raphael and Fang. Nearly all of his race are dead; only those few living here on the mainland survive. He Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-903601712003-02-22T13:20:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.129-08:00When all of this began, the war was a distant thing, something to be handled by other people in other places. It had very little impact on me, or I upon it. Now I find myself in the position of being the war, or at least the key to its outcome. A frightening prospect to me, as it surely must be you to those of you reading this Journal. It is a tremendous responsibility to place in the hands of Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-903489122003-02-20T06:04:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.135-08:00Zeebo,
What to say to a gnome of legend – a Pearl Knight? Your soul is made of sterner stuff than anyone had thought. Soon, I think, you will be leading all of us into battle.
It is sad news to hear that the orcish hordes have developed this "cannon technology." My contacts in the wandering gnomish community tell me that the Nom, as your people call themselves will be gathering near Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-903162922003-02-14T01:38:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.141-08:00I've been witholding information from this journal, on the off chance that a copy of the book may fall into the wrong hands. I'm going to clarify a few things now, for two reasons. First, to give my allies hope. Second, to let my enemies know how much trouble they're in.
It is true, Derek, Falin, Lo Fan and myself have indeed been conferred the status of Pearl Knights by the Gods. If you read Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-903161372003-02-12T19:32:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.147-08:00At this point, so much is going on at once that I'm uncertain what I've written, and I've composed in my head with the intention of writing when the opportunity arrives. I fear at this point that I am writing for myself, not knowing the location of the other Journals. I also fear writing too much, in the event one of the Journals has fallen into the wrong hands, and can be used against us.
Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-901881882003-01-15T10:00:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.158-08:00Zeebo:
I am glad that you are still living. Like it or not, the Gods have a plan for you. It is such with all of us that are left in Jandar. The ill portal that was left open after the return of my daughter has proven to be an extreme liability to the King’s Council. The ‘blue elves’ from that other plan have taken over the ports and have begun to assault the city center. If you can, recall Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-3900055822002-12-07T00:12:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.166-08:00I’ve spent several days thinking about my wish.
Derek’s will be obvious; he wants his fingers back. How fair is that, that his reward should be to regain digits he lost in the service of the god. What generous beings gods are.
Falin and Lo Fan are both thinking about their people.
If I could choose one thing, anything at all, and get it, what would I pick? My early thoughts turned to Myroc. IBerin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-900055772002-12-05T23:11:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.174-08:00I admit I’ve been in a grumpy mood lately. Too many things rub me the wrong way. Maybe it’s Doe rubbing off on my. Maybe it’s that fact that there’s too much unfinished business hanging over my head. I don’t know.
We got into the locked room; Derek had found a shield whose face was like acid, and would burn through anything it pressed against. This was how he’d lost his fingers; he’d picked it Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-3900055662002-12-05T00:09:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.179-08:00Let me just say that Doe and the others did not hit it off right away.
I had actually expected Lo Fan to be standoffish or even hostile, given how we had left things. Instead, he was glad to see me, like I was a long-lost rich uncle he wanted to be sure remembered him in the will. Then someone, he or Doe, made a comment about the other, which was matched by an equally unflattering comment back.Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-900055622002-12-04T00:08:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.187-08:00After informing Orr that we were leaving the caravan and striking off on our own, we headed slightly east toward the sea. It was a dark night to begin with, but soon a dense fog rolled in and obscured our vision to almost nothing. Not a comforting sign.
After nearly an hour’s travel, the fog broke and we saw ahead of us a structure like an ancient temple. Partway up the side facing us was an Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-900055562002-12-03T00:07:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.193-08:00Our caravan had stopped for the evening, and Doe was outside gathering firewood. Dinner was simmering inside the wagon, and I was working to complete some special elixirs for future use when a knock came at the door.
Before I had a chance to answer, a well-dressed gnome entered unbidden. He was obviously a man of no small wealth, judging by his dress. He had the gleeful look you see on most Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-900055542002-12-02T15:06:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.200-08:00I hate gods. This statement will seem blasphemous to many, but please indulge me by following my logic, no matter how tenuous. Gods are powerful beings who like to tell those with significantly less power how to live their lives. Some gods have no use for lesser beings other than to manipulate their lives for their own amusement. Some gods seem to actively despise those weaker than they, and go Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-857017782002-11-21T12:33:00.001-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.207-08:00Her name is Dolynn Duanno, but prefers to be called Doe, like the female deer. She’s one of Myroc’s enforcers, or at least used to be. As many seem to be doing these days, she’s changed sides. I wonder how many others have fled, or would if they didn’t fear his wrath.
It seems my brother’s decent into abomination has continued apace. His brutality increases daily. Myroc did indeed send Doe here Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-857017772002-11-21T12:33:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.215-08:00Reaves,
I am informed that the House of Gar has settled on a trade agreement with the Velvet Hand, which pleases me to know end. We will all be the better for it down the road. I also understand that as part of the agreement, Dorflum has bestowed upon you the services of a justicar named Grundas Flint. His reputation seems fearsome.
I am bestowing some additional resources upon you myself. A Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-856829482002-11-16T14:29:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.223-08:00When I finished reading the scroll, she rolled up her left sleeve to show me the scar on her bicep.
“Why are you showing all of this to me?” I asked.
“For the same reason you told the Velvet Hand why Myroc had sent you and Derek Glenthorpe,” she replied. “I’m layink all my card-ess on the table because I want you to trust me, and understand that we’re on the same side.”
“And you don’t think Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-856807072002-11-15T14:34:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.231-08:00I want to take a moment to document my newfound associate's unusual speech pattern. I've never heard its like before, and with certainty is no dialect I've previously encountered. Upon reflection I have decided it's a speech impediment, rather than the result of some exotic language. This was more or less confirmed when I learned for certain that she was from somewheres near Whale Roost. I Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-856476042002-11-08T02:33:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.239-08:00Let me state something for the record. I have no illusions regarding my appeal to members of the opposite sex. In spite of all my numerous positive qualities, I am pale, gaunt, physically un-strong, and admittedly less than tactful in my outspokenness. I do not cut a dashing or heroic figure. I thrive and survive on a combination of wit, luck, and careful planning whenever possible.
My brother Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-856475982002-11-07T02:30:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.250-08:00Let me be forthright in stating that I am a bit uncomfortable travelling on Reaves' money. I swept into Sren for less than a week, avenged Travers' murder, got Reaves established as the heir to the House of Gar, and moved on. I felt guilty taking as much as I have, but the truth is the we'll need the provisions to meet a Dragon and negotiate the trade of an Artifact, all the while evading local Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-3856475932002-11-06T14:29:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.257-08:00For a small fee paid by Reaves, the caravan of Emands Orr is providing me with both a driver and protection. The wagon and horses have been supplied by Reaves as well, and with luck I can maintain them intact until I meet up with my compatriots. It would be a great boon; the wagon was designed for use with a travelling medicine show, repossessed a few months ago when its previous owner could not Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-3856203632002-10-31T23:19:00.000-08:002012-02-06T21:45:33.265-08:00The following arrived via carrier pidgeon the morning I was preparing to venture out of Sren:Zeebo,
As a dwarf of many years, surprise is something that is a delicacy. You have indeed surprised me. Your resources are most surprising indeed. Your nimble fingers, eyes, and ears are near everywhere that mine are. The fates have apparently cut us from the same cloth and have had the two of us Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-856120302002-10-29T23:55:00.000-08:002002-10-30T04:27:20.000-08:00At this point, I know at least that the journal made it safely to Jandar and into the hands of Dorflum, who turned it over to Derek. The excerpt below is testimony to that fact. Do not ask me how I acquired an exact copy of a page from the diary of the Velvet Hand; a gnome must keep some secrets, aye?The return of my daughter was quite an emotional escapade. The adventurers from that sod Myroc inBerin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-856119782002-10-28T23:43:00.000-08:002002-10-29T04:47:16.000-08:00Zeebo,
We are glad you were not left behind with the blue elves. Sorry to hear about Travers - I know you will avenge him. On the dragon front, we found a Dragon expert who thinks that the Draconian temple is probably located somewhere between Og and Benwood - the area currently being overrun by the Orc army.
I hate orcs.
If you can meet up with us, we are going overland to Lansend and then Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855663762002-10-28T00:09:00.000-08:002002-10-28T19:24:24.000-08:00What follows is what Deelia reported to me, for she was there. As reported previously, I was dining with several respectable citizens of Sren in a very public place.
Fang, as I've come to call the unnamed demon elf who murdered Travers Gar, did not stay long in the tavern known as The End for long after I left. He apparently took me seriously enough, or had learned from Raphael that sitting and Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855663722002-10-26T23:08:00.000-07:002002-10-27T06:37:24.000-08:00Let me explain a bit about Sren, for those who have never been there. It's a free city in the midst of barbarian lands. It's a jewel that would fit nicely into the crown of any conqueror. Yet the city is left alone, and no warlord had every beaten at the city gates.
Most every educated child has been told that the barbarians are afraid of the wizards. Barbarians are, after all, stupid, backward,Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855663652002-10-26T01:07:00.000-07:002002-10-15T19:07:43.000-07:00Two nights later, I sat in a respectable dining club. Travers Gar had been a member, and because the establishment knew me to be a close associate of the late wizard they had transferred his membership to me. Earlier in the day I had attended Travers' funeral. It was a small affair, mostly his apprentices and employees. There were representatives from various guilds and the houses of other Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855663632002-10-25T01:05:00.000-07:002002-10-25T11:38:59.000-07:00I located the bastard elf at a tavern simply known as The End. It was outside the wall, and was known to be frequented by barbarians. It seemed appropriate.
Throwing the bartender a gold piece, I climbed up a barstool until I stood on the bar. Some of the other patrons were amused. Let them be. I told the barkeep I was looking for an elf with pointy teeth, in the company of human fighting men, Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855663572002-10-24T01:03:00.000-07:002002-10-24T04:12:04.000-07:00My name is Zeebo Kantelleki, of the Whale Roost Kantellekis. My ancestors survived the early orc wars and traveled east to found a new community. We have been civic leaders, we have been advisors to kings, and we have been merchants. We have a long tradition of taking care of our own. You don't mess with a Kantelleki, his family or his friends.
This day would be no different than many others inBerin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855663442002-10-23T01:00:00.000-07:002002-10-23T04:50:55.000-07:00The city guard had little to offer by way of help. Nobody saw anything, and avenging the deaths of wizards was outside their mandate. There was no immediate riot to quell, no heads to bash, so they took their report and left. I actually expected some hassle, since I conveniently arrived immediately after the murder, but I was a known friend and associate of the deceased and had no motive.
All IBerin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855663412002-10-20T01:59:00.000-07:002002-10-20T03:26:39.000-07:00There was a noise behind me. I spun, drawing me sword as I went. Reaves was a human boy of about 20, another apprentice of Travers of no small talent. He'd been working in the shop for about 6 years, and seemed most likely to someday inherit the business, Travers having no children of his own. There must have been blood and vengeance in my eyes, because a dark stain grew on the front of his Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855663362002-10-19T02:57:00.000-07:002002-10-19T07:03:06.000-07:00I ran to the door of Travers' shop, and found the inside in disarray. Two apprentices lay on the floor, barely breathing. Broken glass and liquids of various colors pooled on the floor, and were splashed about the walls.
Continuing through the curtain into the back rooms, I entered the main distillation areas were located. More vandalism and destruction, more bodies strewn about. Dead or alive,Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855663332002-10-17T02:56:00.000-07:002002-10-17T04:20:29.000-07:00I picked my way around revelers, attempting to get my bearings. Sren was a city I knew like the back of my glove. I'd lived and worked her for nine years. I had contacts and some small reputation, which would carry me through.
Magic had transformed night into day for the parade, but afterward, the artificial illumination faded with the crowd. The odor remains. If one such as I, with a limited Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855663312002-10-15T18:55:00.000-07:002002-10-15T18:55:26.150-07:00Chamomile, lavender and marigold.
That's what I smelled as I lay flat on my back, presumably because Derek dropped me after we crossed through the portal. I was on cobblestones, which means we had successfully made it through. I assumed we would find ourselves in or near the Weary Face, and through the darkness it appeared we were in an alleyway. Except... chamomile, lavender and marigold.
I Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855323892002-10-12T03:17:00.000-07:002002-10-12T05:31:50.000-07:00Axixxus, Dorflum's daughter, looked up at Lo Fan and said, "I know you, you were in cell number three."
Excrement and assorted curses. Lo Fan began to ask how she knew that, and I interrupted. "Look, we can sort everything out later, but we need to get out of here, in case there's some osrt of magical alarm set to bring more blue elves."
Everyone agreed, although Lo Fan was giving me an Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855323552002-10-11T01:04:00.000-07:002002-10-11T04:29:02.000-07:00The hallway went a good hundred feet, with only a single door at the end. Expecting a trap, I checked the door -- and found it spongy. I've stated many times that monsters are merely another trap to be avoided, but this was too literal. The door opened a great gaping mouth and sprouted arms.
Clang clang clang. Dead puddle of door. You expect this to stop us?
The room inside was very tight, Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855323312002-10-10T02:51:00.000-07:002002-10-10T07:51:15.000-07:00Yes, we were surrounded by blue elves. They carried bows, but otherwise fought with empty hands like Lo Fan. They got ahold of Falin and beat him nearly to a pulp - they seemed to enjoy ganing up on him, whether that was because of a personal vendetta against "normal" elves, or because his flaming scimitar had sprung into his hand and they disliked the heat, I cannot say.
One of them picked me Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855261222002-10-09T02:33:00.000-07:002002-10-09T09:58:50.000-07:00Through the secret door was a passage. At the end of the passage was a room. The henchman didn't stop... he kept running.
Straight through the solid rock wall.
Well, why not? We went through after him.
We found outselves outdoors at twilight. I remember the response I'd recieved earlier from Travers Gar, about Melaina being someplace cold and elsewhere. That described this place perfectly.
Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855259792002-10-08T01:47:00.000-07:002002-10-08T14:33:08.000-07:00There we were, back in Jandar. Falin Meliamne, Derek Glenthorpe, and Zeebo Kantelleki, all three known associates of the Kantelleki family of Whale Roost, yet we'd just pulled a job for another crime boss.
"You two watch the barrel - I'll go inside," I said as I ducked into the Weary Face, possibly the sleaziest tavern on the waterfront. This was where Raphael made his headquarters. As I passed Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855258562002-10-07T01:20:00.000-07:002002-10-07T05:04:53.000-07:00I've intentionally left Mortimer out of previous narratives, because he's a blister on the rump of gnomekind.
We found Mortimer in the thieves' guild, in a cell near Lo Fan's. Dorflum kept him around because he was supposedly an expert on the Demon Bottle. We decided to take him with us, against his furious protestations, for the same reason.
Morty stank. Plain and simple. It was a smell Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-3855258082002-10-06T01:08:00.000-07:002002-10-07T05:06:51.000-07:00This was the day Falin came into his own and showed us what he's made of.
We're down in the catacombs, and an entire patrol of orcs comes rushing into the room from several side passages. We're surrounded and outnumbered by three to one. Falin's standing there with a sprig of parsley or a stalk of celery or something in his hand (I don't understand elves, let alone druids - I'm a city boy, Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-3855257572002-10-05T00:53:00.000-07:002002-10-05T05:51:04.000-07:00This is what the other told me, after I woke up.
Melaina was rescued safely, of course. There were still orcs and possibly other creatures in the secret tunnels under the estate. Lord Pryseus - the one we killed - was not the Lord Pryseus at all, but an imposter who'd taken his place. The mooching cousin had vanished. The suitor had vanished, and Melaina claimed she never HAD a suitor. Grandma Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855253772002-10-04T10:57:00.000-07:002002-10-04T10:57:39.390-07:00It's been established that I spent nine years of my life in Sren, the City of Wizards. My brother Myroc presumably sent me there to study magic, but really just wanted me as far away from Whale Roost as possible. I learned very little in terms of magic there, and to this day the only casting ability I have are the cantrips all gnomish children learn for personal amusement. I did learn no small Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-3855219132002-10-03T15:17:00.000-07:002002-10-03T15:17:39.420-07:00Here's what I remember about Melaina's Dream:
No one knew where the girl went. Everyone was acting suspicious. Lord Pryseus had a room he wouldn't allow anyone into. People started hearing ghostly female voices crying "help me! help me!". Objects started flying around the room.
I decided to break into Pryseus's study to see what he was hiding. The next thing I remember is lying on the ground Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855078422002-09-30T10:25:00.000-07:002002-10-03T15:09:12.000-07:00Back in Jandar, Derek had a bad experience with the Demon Bottle.
It spoke to him.
That might be understating things a bit. It had somehow ensorceled him, to the point where he was holding the bottle refusing to give it up. It was his now, it was his friend. Lo Fan was ready to throw down, so I ended up negotiating the peace. As I sidled up along side him, I lent him my support. If the BottleBerin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855077412002-09-30T09:58:00.000-07:002002-09-30T09:58:26.273-07:00Where was I...
Understand that in between updating this journal, I have suffered several dire wounds (my compatriots being ready to pronounce me dead on at least three occassions). Yet, to the amazement of the Big Folk, I keep getting back up and rejoining the fracas in spite of wounds that would keep a lesser being down. This is why they nicknamed me "the Badger" during the nine years I spent Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-855055542002-09-29T19:00:00.000-07:002002-09-29T20:43:08.000-07:00Here's a very quick update on what happened next, in order:
We stole the idol, nearly drowned when the room filled with water, but we survived.
We broke out Lo Fan.
We were all pretty damaged when we got back to the safe house, so we made the mistake of calling on an underworld contact named Raphael to procure us a a healer. The thing that arrived struck me as a necromancer and threatened to Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-3855055232002-09-29T18:39:00.000-07:002002-09-29T18:39:55.810-07:00Previously, I had not used the Journal in this fashion, but in this case it seemed appropriate. The journal, you see, is a minor magical artifact. My former master, now friend, confidant and mentor, Travers Gar, created it.
The Journal was intended to be a spellbook for Travers' apprentices. He made three copies as a test. A spell or alchemical formula written in one book would magically Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-3855054842002-09-29T18:17:00.000-07:002002-09-29T18:26:54.000-07:00Zeebo,
She is bound in leather, but she still lives. I can see her breath, it is cold. Her essence is faint, as if she is... elsewhere.
Travers Gar
Travers,
I need to locate someone farily urgently. Her name is Azysus, and she's the daughter of Dorflum, whom I've described earlier. We believe she's been kidnapped by Raphael, an elf opium addict who hangs out at a tavern called the Weary Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-854558192002-09-16T09:03:00.000-07:002002-09-16T09:03:51.403-07:00We didn't do too badly with the traps, at least not at first. I took a blade in the hand that gave me a pretty nasty gasp, but overall it could have been worse. Falin had the presence of mind to leave his wolves in the hall, so we didn't have to worry about them setting off something that would kill us all. He should have left them in the sewers, but I'll get to that later.
It was when we were Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-854536732002-09-15T18:01:00.000-07:002002-09-15T18:01:45.383-07:00The dungeon of the Gentlemen's Club has a secret entrance, which can only be accessed by Jandar's sewer system. While we could easily just walk in the front door and show our tokens (proving us to be guild members and therefore allowed to be there), we couldn't just stroll out the front door with Lo Fan. It wouldn't be credible. He wouldn't buy it. It would also help to go in the way we planned Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-854529922002-09-15T12:29:00.000-07:002002-09-15T12:33:10.000-07:00Monsters are just another trap to be avoided. That's my personal philosophy. I've attended the funerals of self-appointed "adventurers" who, while on a quest to fight an evil dragon, arch-liche, or other alleged menace to the peace and well-being of the world, got side tracked and snuffed out by a troll guarding a bridge or an orc patrol. Why? Greed. A few extra gold pieces to be won, the promiseBerin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-854089002002-09-05T04:42:00.000-07:002002-09-05T13:44:34.000-07:00Lo Fan explained it to us like this:
The alabaster statue, or rather, the ruby, is a demon bottle. It's got a demon trapped inside of it, possibly several. In the wrong hands, this is a Bad Thing. Lo Fan knows of a dragon (presumably a good dragon) who is willing to add it to his horde and sit on it for safe keeping, a good idea if ever I've heard one. In return, the dragon will give up the Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-854145272002-09-04T15:12:00.000-07:002002-09-05T13:49:09.000-07:00The Kantelleki family helped found the village of Whale Roost over 300 years ago. A small community of gnomes fled their mountain homes and travelled east, until they reached the ocean and could travel no more. They originally tried to take up fishing, but eventually became established as a convenient waypoint on several trade routes. Sometimes, being the only stop in the middle of nowhere works Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-3854064662002-09-02T16:22:00.000-07:002002-09-02T16:22:48.293-07:00Before I continue, I want to talk about the so-called "thieves' guild" for a moment. When the orc wars spilled over into lands occupied by gnomes and dwarves, we were forced to flee to the lands of the tall folk to the east. As refugees, our people were forced to live in the poorest of ghettos, subject to rough treatment from officials and citizenry alike. We took the worst jobs, for the worst Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-853819092002-08-26T06:02:00.000-07:002002-08-26T06:24:13.000-07:00"Troglodye. Spatula. Whatever!"
-Derek Glen ThorpeBut that's a story for another time. I don't want to get ahead of myself.
So where was I? Derek and I had managed to gain Guild membership. We went back to the fashionable Gentleman's Club (yes, the name of the place is just 'Gentleman's Club") which serves as a front for the Guild, and were met by Dorflum, our contact there. He gave us tokens - Berin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3699232.post-853790582002-08-25T23:16:00.000-07:002002-09-05T14:04:28.000-07:00A human walks into the Church of St. Rosebaum carrying an armload of scimitars. He's got a woodsy look about him; he's obviously not from the big city. "Excuse me," he calls out in a rural accent. "Can someone please help me?"
A couple of warrior priests come out, also humans. Big priests. With lots of muscles. And swords.
"Yes, um, hello," the guy says nervously.
"Can we help you?" asks oneBerin Kinsmannoreply@blogger.com