Sadly, it seems that my companions want to forgive the savages for
their appalling attack on us. I’m sure I
heard “don’t run, we are your friends” muttered just before I went down during
the attack, but maybe I’m mistaken. It
seems that my companions have bought this crap and assumed it was merely some
cultural difference that prompted the attack, and that therefore it was
apparently our fault, and the savages should be treated with respect. In the end we resolved to talk to the
primitives again, offering them one last chance, although the ugly chick and I
have quietly managed to agree that we’ll return and wipe out this primitive waste
of air.
In the end, we noticed that they were scrying us, and so we tried
communicating to their shaman that we are trying to save their sorry excuse for
a tribe. This apparently worked, and the
shaman came to our camp, where I was only just able to restrain Artox and the
ugly chick. The shaman imparted a little
information about the queen’s magic crown, and agreed to meet one of us
privately to discuss in detail.
Naturally, I went to talk to him (presumably if everyone was as obscenely
good looking as me, the whole savage attack would never have happened), and got
the full run-down on the situation. As
we already knew, the artefact is made from the teeth of an ancient, dead
dragon, and imparts all manner of power on the queen. I was then forced to endure a humiliating,
barbaric ritual where the spirit of our gypsy cards gave me a tail of the
situation and how we should resolve it.
Maintaining her ability to irritate me, she told the tail in the form of
a song. I also discovered that the
savages were apparently going to give the truth speaker and the warrior’s
priestess of inner beauty a “proper” burial (apparently leaving corpses out in
the open for the scavengers to eat constitutes proper respect to these savages),
and so I returned to the camp. Fortunately
I was able to memorize the gypsy ghost’s song and ask my trusty bard, between
composing verses of the epic tale of my life, to put it into verse and get away
from this whole gypsy music thing.
She told the tale beautifully, letting everyone else know what was
happening and sparing them the tragedy of having to listen to it put to
music. She also recalled that Scarwall
is a castle, along with its approximate location. We agreed that we should head out, and
planned to meet up with the male priest of pain and his demon woman before
making the journey. Fortunately, they
were already in a town called Kaer Maga, the closest place we could acquire the
diamond dust necessary to return the inner beauty priestess to life, after we
swiped her body from where the savages had left it to rot. Or be eaten.
En-route to Kaer Maga, we were once more ambushed by
assassins. This time, they had the help
of a hunter who showed remarkable skill with a firearm, and the fight went
poorly. Several of us were knocked out
by the gunman (some of the assassins were reasonably effective as well, although
they paled into insignificance compared to the man with the gun), and in the
end I was able to summon sufficient inter-planar aid to carry the day. It is worth mentioning here that the big
warrior was pivotal in the fight, soaking up an impressive number of wounds and
managing to destroy the hunter’s gun.
While not essential, these actions did make my job of saving the day a
lot easier.
No comments:
Post a Comment