Mandraiv's Diary 17

Upon searching the rest of the emperor’s “palace”, we did indeed find the artist.  As well as a few of his paintings interestingly in two batches – one good, one bad.  The ugly elf priestess went into borderline rapture firstly over the good paintings, and secondly over the artist.  Turns out that he’s apparently lost his muse, and thus the second batch of massively inferior paintings was explained.  Supposedly, he used to dream of the scenes for his art, but the dreams have fled.  The dwarf suggested, quite sensibly, that this may be because he was actually possessed by some kind of demon, which has left him for greener pastures, in the queen.  This could explain how she has become so powerful, but leaves questions as to why she would gain such power from the evil spirit, while all that the artist gained was a few dreams to inspire paintings.  Swings and roundabouts, I guess.  Maybe it’s just that the artist was a good man who subconsciously fought against the evil possession and prevented it’s most overt manifestations, and the queen is an evil bitch power, and as such embraced the spirit and profited more significantly.  Either way, the artist is somewhat doomed, I suspect, and potentially in for a rough time of it if he can’t get his muse back, since his fans, such as the ugly elf cleric are potentially the kind of people who may adopt drastic measures in order to “help” him to produce more of his highly disturbing works.

We also found a few monsters in another room, apparently called chokers.  The one that tried to grapple Artox was amusing, making a fatal mistake in that tactic.  Regardless, the creatures were dealt with comfortably, although one got away, and we left the building.

Once outside, we were able to ascertain, from the artist, that the sword master we seek is at the house of the noble family that runs the underworld in Korvosa, presumably being held along with some other guy who will have evidence that the queen killed the king to take the throne in her own right.  We then left him with the ugly elf chick to escort him back to the mainland.  I’m glad that she’s finally found someone to latch onto, someone ugly enough to suit her.  Hopefully this means that any jealousy she felt towards that last woman I was with, the one living opposite the artist’s house, will fade away and not cause the poor woman any grief.  Hmm, maybe I should pay her another visit before we leave town.  She was quite good looking.

Having accomplished our goal with the emperor, it was time to move onto our next clue, and we headed to the noble’s house.  Amusingly, for a change, we didn’t simply storm the place, and I talked our way in to see the boss.  He was quite receptive, and even rewarded us for killing the emperor, before explaining that the man we seek was in his labyrinth and that it was too much bother to have him removed, although we were welcome to go and get him.  He also explained a couple of the properties of this labyrinth, and unfortunately refused to accept us going shopping before entering, so we headed straight in.  On the way in we discovered a figurine of wondrous power of an elephant, quite a cool item, and pocketed it before hitting the elevator down into the maze.

Sadly, we were sorely tested by the first denizens of the labyrinth, a trio of fungus infested skeletons.   They were big, flying and highly venomous.  We managed to overcome them in the end, but it was a tough fight leaving many of us suffering from quite debilitating poisons, and the funniest fact of all.  Apparently four-arms, about the only one of us (apart from me) not to be poisoned had, in fact, magically delayed the onset such effects.  We sat around for a while, with the cleric ministering to him until his spell ran out.  At which point, with all of his wounds coming to strike him at the same time, he came very, very close to dying.  We decided that we were best of waiting until we could reverse some of the effects of the poisons and rested immediately so that the cleric could pray for some different spells.

Ch 3, Part 3: House Arkonas

The Emporer's Palace

The heroes explore the rest of the emperor's 'palace'. Where they find the Salvatore Scream being kept prisoner. After a brief exchange of words (and some touching shows of affection from Laori) the heroes free him and promise to bring him to safety. Once free of the place, Salvatore promises to give them what information he knows, such as the whereabouts of Vencarlo.

On the way out, there heroes explore the remaining rooms and clear a next of chokers.

Salvatore's Story

Back at Vencarlo's; the Salvatore informs that a few weeks back, Neolandus Kalepopolis the seneschal of Castle Korovsa came to him poisoned and delirious  (He was a long time client and fan of his artwork). Salvatore nursed him back to health where eventually he told him that the queen murdered the king and that she had sent assassins to kill him. She was in league with an organisation called the Red Mantis. When neolandus was recovered, Salvatore took him to House Arkanos (another of Salvatore's clients) where he felt they could better protect him.

Later when he was visiting his friend Vencarlo, Vencarlo became enraged that he had done that. He said the Lord Arkonas was powerful underworld figure and that Neolandus might be in even more danger. Salvatore suspects that Vencarlo has tried to rescue him.

The heroes thank Salvatore and let Laori take him to safety, she is enaoured with him (in a disturbing way) but she convinces the heroes that no harm will come to him (harm by their definition not hers).

The House Arkonas

The heroes then head to House Arkanos where they meet Lord Glorio Arkonas lounging in a bath. He listens to the heroes story (and also thanks them for killing the emperor and rewards them with a ring of evasion). He confirms that both Neolandus and his Vencarlo are his guests but that things are 'complicated' and he cannot simply free them.

He his placed his guests in the Vivified Labyrinth for their own safe keeping. This is a perilous maze he has constructed filled with traps and guardians where he often places his 'guests'. The heroes are welcome to go down and retrieve him and he gives them instructions and some pointers on getting through the maze.

The heroes agree. The entrance to the maze is underneath a statue of an elephant (which is discovered to be a figurine of wonderous power). The descend into the maze where they arrive at a fungi garden. There they are attacked by Janni Skeletons, these skeletons are powerful and it is a difficult battle, where the fungi ridden skeletons prove to be highly poisonous. A number of the heroes are severely poisoned, though the heroes are victorious.

Encounter	Grit	Helious	Mandraiv	Sparrowhawk	Sol	Watson
Pre-Session	43,638	38,038	45,038	40,388	42,638	40,338
Level	7th	7th	7th	7th	7th	7th
Journals		2500	600			700
rp: freeing Salavator	800	800	800	800	800	800
chokers	800	800	800	800	800	800
Janni skeletons	1600	1600	1600	1600	1600	1600
rp: chief tea maker					350
Total	46,838	43,738	48,838	43,588	46,188	44,238

Excerpt from the histories of Helious Prime.

(bit long I was practicing speed writing and so babbled some random thoughts)

After some thorough looting we found the painter. I instantly thought of the sicko cleric that was with us. Her tastes and his art were a perfect match and though unusual I knew their relationship would have a chance and more importantly she could keep him safe. I decided to play the match maker and suggest she care for him. I even took her to see his other paintings. My elf killing finger got itchy, the elf killing drills were trying to kick in but I resisted them after all the painter seemed quite hardy and needed protection and a life beyond this incident. Unlike our attractive yet simplistically cunning summoner I believe the painter has the stamina and creativity to fulfill her bizarre needs.

The painter seems to have differing groups of paintings, some almost predictive and inspired others not. I remember stories of the lurking dark, a formless force that predates all creatures, deep mining groups sometimes come across it. None know if its one or many, a creature or an errant primordial soul. Like the legendary weapons of the old kings, but without given form, it possesses and guides those it contacts. Often towards destruction and insanity as the concerns of the old world rarely coincide with this modern one. I couldn’t help but think of the old stories.

I think some possessing force, maybe some ancient chellaxian devilish force, moved through him and now lies in the queen. Justin did not think the queen evil due to the evidence at hand originally. Others assumptions came to be true later. Perhaps she is merely one of many puppets. The forge fathers of my home fought the chellaxians alongside long dead varisians when the chellaxians invaded. Perhaps some old force yet wants to dominate this land defined by diversity and freedom. Perhaps it’s just the spirits talking for as one of the elder dwarves of the deep I lack the new dwarves resistance to such introduced poisons. I will take this more seriously if the next intermediary we need to fight or track down is another step closer to the queen and exhibited unusual powers or had a red herring slave that did. As the gnomes say: nothing has to be true forever, just for long enough, to tell you the truth.

The painter was to go back to the others across the river we agreed to escort out of the city in a week or two. I cannot believe the stupidity and selfishness of the shoanti. He seemed fixated at crossing the river with the painter. Not only would this entail the others sitting round bored and doing nothing he had NO plan for should things go wrong.

The tactical stupidity of humans is beyond me. The need to go is contingent on danger thus to assume there will be no danger and want to charge away without a backup plan is idiocy. Not to mention how obvious he is. For a self-proclaimed stealthy person he seems not to conceive that you cannot always hide. I don’t think he realizes how OBVIOUS he is. Four arms, bandoleers of weapons, potion bottles for his infusions and ‘spells’, the scent of unusual reagents to name a few. Saddest of all that for someone that seems to take great pride in his height he forgets he is a foot taller than the varissian and chellaxian natives. He is also a race that is despised and has a complexion so different that the combination stands out like a giant in a gobilin formation. 

Why don’t humans consider the world they live in, their own traits and very appearance? For a warrior that likes to lurk, kobold like, behind opponents in a weak mimicry of true strategy he lacks a concept of end game. Whats the ideal scenario and worst scenario of him going over? Ideal: nothing happens - in which case he adds an element of danger by standing out as someone that is being looked for  and directing the queens spys to the place others are kept safe. Worst: something happens – in which he (by long experience) will be of little use and will likely escalate a situation like the painters questioning into their deaths or worst the painters death and the survival of the shoanti who then leads them to the safe house. 

For one that whines so often he has remarkable faith in his abilities. Something I might respect if they took into account the above along with the simplest of mundane techniques like tracking. No matter his stealth abilities, the second he is seen, even should he loose his pursuers Justin told me he is easily tracked.  Much more sound to have the unwatched for cleric go with him, evidence indicates that should something happen she is twice the defense the shoanti would be, thrice as subtle and able to return him to life should he fall. Seriously I sometimes think some of the shoanti tribes had elvish progenitors so lost does this one get in his own inner fantasies ignoring the relevance of the reality around him. Better to perish than be elfish!!

Next we went to see some wealthy pratt who knew the whereabouts of those we had to find. Unlike dwarves, who are all wealthy, humans that are most often negative incarnations of the mercantile spirit. The nobles of old considered it the greatest dishonor to be involved in money grubbing but the days of purpose; honor and positive incarnations of wealth are long behind us. Worst humans now combine the worst of noble behavior and entitlement with the worst of mercantile behavior. The kind of person that believes in life the worst insult to not be recognized while doing nothing noble to be recognized.

They act dishonorably with arrogance and devious self-centered behavior. How they are blinded by mere wealth is a great mystery. It’s like they become the sum of their belongings or desired belongings devoid of self. To become a null entity defined by ones belongings is the greatest loss. If dragons merely become their hordes, warriors their weapons there is no inner wealth, no majesty, no point.  Such tainted humans consider their side to be the only side and only care about their own convenience.  

Sophistication doesn’t make baseless opinionated goonery any more substantial. The conception of a personal geography, outdated stupidity like the earth as center despite proof, where they are never wrong is the greatest weakness of such people. Like religious or gnome science nuts it’s the same cloth their all cut from. The belief defined by the thinking that those that disagree or oppose are insane at best, dangerous at worst of worst for them- null entities. The kind that forget argument comes from the ancient thassilonian ‘arguer- to debate, discuss, persuade by reason. Yet to argue with them is to be confronted by resistance without truth of explanation and emotive twaddle that begets flaming rows of tone and volume where they seem to think that that yells loudest and longest wins. The kind that retaliates, not in brave personage, but by telling the mob how to dance. The real trick is making mobs by making others think and acts like one.

The lying supercilious bastards only patronize others to patronize them. With childlike thought they think they gain some worth by belittling their betters, their rather naïf in their emotions and use of actions its saddening.  How empty their lives must be, beggars to their own desires. How I hope this is not some disease that will spread to all of humanity for then there will be none. 

This one was cut from that cloth. Evaluating words solely in terms of length not impact. Thinking he is beyond ordinary laws and can use his money to get his own way and ignore rules. Privilege means just that: private law. There should be rules none can ignore. It’s why some seek to destroy religion because they have laws that cannot be subverted. He is the sort that helps those top knobs like him make societies rules so complex that they become a twisted puzzle ring lacking all soul that only they have the time, connections and money to untwine. The only joy in seeing such machinations is to know that though they seek to be masters holding strings in a complex game of legal despotism and tyranny only they are taught inevitably their inbreeding or excess leads renders them unable to keep up and others take over.  I think it’s why they hate mavericks and criminals so much. They too follow private laws but without hiding like cowards behind layers of industry merely relying on guile, smarts, balls and if the situation demands bare knuckle scrapping.

At least it takes strength to harm someone unlike the simplistic art of harming with words and ‘incidental’ actions through viciousness cased in expensive words. Privilege is either having the strength to harm people or the connections to dictate anothers’ life indirectly merely by stressing: ‘I want no HARM to come to him’ or ‘I want NO harm to come to him’.  Real strength however lies in being able to but choosing not to, having a center beyond whims and urges.

I wish people like this that utterly lack rapport or empathy could one day see their lives not through their skewed perspective but through the eyes of others. The many lives they consider beneath the masterpiece of theirs. When will they realize all lives are full of interest if people are lucky and at the very least surprise and all in their own way some genius. It’s sad that humans don’t utilize the full resources of their race.. that which might save us may never occur. All because the greedy doom brilliant minds that could change the world and cure ills to a daily hopeless struggle for subsistence. Such a lack of fulfillment poverty entails, without education all mankind is diminished, yet some waste wealth. Ironic no human ever thinks they have enough to stop grabbing for more so none will ever help to guide their world away from being base and corrupt. Such mercantile faux-nobles are so busy they shorten others’ lives without consideration.   

Talking to him was just irritating me. The way he spoke like he was on the right side, not because he considered different sides but merely because he was indoctrinated to believe (through parents or merely through a lack of individual thought) any side his on IS the right side. He could be one of tens of humans I have met. Hopefully this thinking shall not promogulate.

The only balm for my itchy trigger finger was his obvious survival ability. It was interesting to see it in action. He seemed a of new wealth and exhibited none of the bravery of old wealth. Those sorry souls so enslaved by elaborate retrospective historical lies its all about death or glory. The stories of ancestral heroism that push them like a tide of lies granting the strength to find the deepest grave or the rare glory. Those of new wealth are always the first to get to grips with any conflict, ignore the past, and manipulate it for their prosperity.

I trusted in such peoples survival abilities in a tight corner so made no move to attack. It helped that he was strong enough to be nice, it’s the small and weak that must act like conniving scum. I am sure he was there once, but no more.

He viewed himself a connoisseur but had the class of a potato. Class is how you act in times of stress and pain and I doubt he had felt much for a very long time. He seems so superficial I doubt he cares if others think his shallow. He spoke of a maze in his garden. Once drinking a half-orc that sold security door to door told me – the better the suburb the darker the basements. How true it is.

I whispered to the others that we should resupply before going into a maze of unknown dimensions with an unknown way of escaping none had but we apparently would be able to. Inconceivably they were ALL against it.  Components for spells, the renewal of alchemical and gunsmithing supplies, bullets, arrows, a cure wand, a restoration wand, a find the path scroll to assure an escape route never mind a chance to pause, think, take stock and discuss away from this want to be machiavellian tosser. These humans make no sense. Cowards when the best way is forward, blindly keen when we have no idea and no supplies, whining when there are no other options and it wastes precious breath in combat. They forget so fast that the last two major battles we needed an additional supporting cleric, still got harmed, and before that weren’t doing too well. I belabored the point and still they were against it. THEN the wealthy pratt got involved and said this was our one chance to get to the maze. Like the worst kind of bully he hit harder after he was stood up to yet sadly they all acted like he was their lord and king and like it ended the debate. He had already told us the entry point, had imprisoned their friends and a city hero and yet here they were being lead and bossed like the simplest of peons.. into a maze whose exit and dimensions were unknown. Even elves aren’t this bad.

I followed these young idiots through acres of garden to a glass window looking down on a maze. It was obviously magical. I can imagine that tosser who knows the command words to have vision of the maze strolling here languidly to stare down for hours watching the mice he just conned into blind obedience. No doubt smirking at the ease at which he cowed such heroes before retiring to a study lined with books, and none of them read. Humans that do not listen are easily lead as the drow say.  Indeed as I said above he was the one that tells the mob what to do, I just didn’t realize before this party is the mob he has as his bitches.

We went down into the maze, a wonder of far eastern architecture fitting the dark skinned natives of this tropical land that I travelled with. The barbarian discovered the elephant was an effigy that could manifest while we poked about. I encouraged the ranger to try and find a trail of where those we were searching for went. Instantly up sprung some massive shambling moss ridden skeletons. I found it bizarre and disconcerting that our ranger couldn’t perceive the unnatural mounds and nor could our ever alert barbarian perceive their hiding places before they sprung on us. Unfortunate as it puts the credibility of those we are here to rescues likelihood of survival in severe doubt.  

As in my dreams of another life where every opponent jumped out and surprised us again they pummeled us mercilessly. The ranger did not fare well, now she realizes how it is to not always fight the enemies you specialize in, the barbarian summoned his undead spirits to attack but put himself in grave danger by ‘shoanti like’  tactics even though the snake abomination had already. It was a disaster.  Our casters had no spells to control the terrain or limit the attacks of the enemies. The shoanti saved us with a haste spell. That combined with all of us attacking and that my challenge ability knows no bias allowed as to dispatch them. I am worried about my ammo count as well as the alchemists’ reagents. It’s amazing how a single spell can make our little group as effective as one just under twice as big. Spells, my clan never liked them, but I can see now how our general resistance might have weakened us against the newer clans and their specific resistance to poisons, spells and spell like abilities. Curious that I bothered to encourage group spells when likely I will benefit the least. Dower and taciturn I will become in a world like this sky vaulted land of the selfish and soulless.

Excerpt from the histories of Helious Prime.

 -Editors note: It is interesting to note the dwarven tactics. Dwarves are notoriously close mouthed about them. Their effectiveness cannot be underestimated and this is one of the few insights in human records. Helious might have been considered a herobut his people probably consider him a traitor for reasons other than his use of guns.-

 These humans, I cannot work them out, they seem happier retarding their and others full potential than fulfilling theirs.  It’s like they gain more satisfaction through the act of dithering then actually acting. Maybe it’s that ego or ‘self-satisfaction’ thing I heard about. It makes no sense. Dwarves know what they are and are content in being that to their fullest. Effort brings action, action begets results, and results bring gain: material, emotional, and career.

It’s like humans don’t want to act because their afraid of what they will find lacking. Knowing your flaws is the greatest of all gifts, it’s the only way to hammer them out, otherwise lake a poorly forged blade your likely to break at inconvenient times when the stress is greatest. Even elves urgently perform at their best when there is a threat .. even if between threats they teeter on the self-satisfied smarminess’ of humans and waste away decades on doing nothing useful for anyone. At least elves have style and bearing, they sadly combine this with attitude instead of the dwarven way of conducting themselves with bearing, honesty and manners but at least it’s better than the posturing of humans. My father said humans once had a sense of comportment, but it’s so distant it may as well be myth.

 They need a good head-butting if we’re to all become rich, powerful and titled instead of feeling entitled and ending up crippled and whining like kobolds.

I decided to brooch the topic over a couple drinks one evening when we were resting. I had some notes I found in justins shelter and the memories of his evening rants on theology and spell craft to fill in the ‘magic’ gaps in my otherwise sound dwarven tactics.

 Not much to say to the archer, elves have pretty much perfected that path, I did say she should use a gun instead (those ranger spells seem perfect for guns one even reloads for you so with the right deed she could use a musket even) .. or at the very least one of those movement items to get out of trouble fast- she ain’t that tough in melee after all.

 After a couple I got self-reflective and my occult wagon train of thoughts led me to think about getting some of those ranger spells made into items. Justins ideas were revolutionary: his ‘credibles cocker’ to load guns as you draw them with a simple pulley system or by reversing the hammer housing on guns, use of scabbards of vigour and guns, his idea to saw off a double musket and call it the jurist for inquisitors everywhere.. but I think I have topped them. A pouch with the abundant ammunition spell. It would make the costs far more reasonable. Also use of permanent symbols of healing to replace makeshift hospices in dwarven mines. Mining is a dangerous hobby and clerics are stretched thin with all the glorious battles against lawless under beings mining leads too. It’s the perfect solution.

 
As for the glowing rune scarred snake, I avoid that abomination. It reminds me of the aberrations I specialized in destroying in our mines. I know little of grabbing and eating people, it seems like a dishonest way of fighting. I do wonder where those eaten go and if the rune scarred summoner gains any sustenance from the snake. I mentioned to the summoner (in hearing of the snake in case it is really in control) that it seems wasteful as two creatures to do one creature worth of actions mostly. I understand the summons are focused on but summoners get many spells, some very good defensive ones. I predict my defensive suggestions will merely be used on the snake, its eyes gleamed when I mentioned it, ironic that for one so captivated with their supposed authority the summoner does little to lead or empower the group and serves the serpent. Humans have no idea how to lead, they want control without blame, authority without service and lack the vision to see how this lacking undermines the actuality and relegates their plans to delusions.

For our theologically challenged cleric I shared some old dwarf wisdom I had been taught and heard of many times in my apprentice decades. For I am sick of having strange clerics join our excursions, ours is more than competent. His been too concerned with theology and the extreme demands of healing to spend time pondering how to hurt the many freaks this group attracts as enemies. Healers in dwarf enclaves often cover themselves in a divine aura of untouchability, like a god effecting others with a miasma of awe so others won’t attack- sanctuary. Not for the warlike but for those who heal, shield other and summon the embodiment of their ideals it protects against more attacks than a concealing mist. The arrows of law and spears of purity the clerics use as the ‘test of soul iron’ to get the measure of apprentices. Blinding those who refuse to see with eyes of wisdom and the most stunning of the war clerics tricks: the chains that control the battle. Without them moving opponents closer many the elite stalwart defenders once set in stance might have fallen to those with reach. Also I spoke of the terror of having ones attacks neutered or ones very actions subverted by the will of a deity.

Most I belaboured the basic prayer spell. The arumvorax meat at the clerics table and the spell that has changed the outcome of entire battles. I heard the forest elves that sit in glades and stare at the sky understand the magic behind predicting the outcome of things, their paths and the chance of success – and with prayers power to move everything in your sides favour its ranked highest among all spells. Combined with haste should the shoanti ever cast it again in a timely fashion, a spell once the secret of the priests of time, our groups many parts would be all but invincible with the archers dual arrow flurries, the barbarians spirit attacks and all those tails and arms our monstrous members have.

That shoanti.. always a problem. I wonder how he always has spells fortifying him at the right time. I know Justin struggled and ran out often even with better casting and extra spells he managed through some human trickery. The summoner also always struggles yet the alchemist is weaker in casting. I wonder that all of us need announce our actions in combat to better combine forces yet the casters seem never too and just assume or attempt to hide their casting.

It’s a shame his focus on traps and smashing things has taken from his exponentially growing alchemical powers. He should get some goggles to focus if he just wants to smash things. Surely if he can give himself arms he can infuse himself with extra traits like better casting.

As for the emotional barbarian, even if he channels fell negative energies and imprisons the souls of his ancestors, I had to tell him of surmount affliction. If only for justin for he gained the spell just before he passed, and was looking forward to using it.

I don’t know if they will consider my drunken words. Humans sometimes prioritise their failure over their success if it means a moment of passing solidarity. I suppose without it the greatest humours written about humans by our bards would not exist. Nothing is funnier than refusing help just to fall so hard one needs extreme help later. A moment of solidarity is oft swapped for a lifetime of need.

The Coma Chronicles

The Coma Chronicles

Curse the puny feeble human form. As remarkable as it is, it is poorly designed for resisting physical trauma. I suffered yet more unnecessarily grievous wounds today. Injuries resulting from the unoptimised location of critical organs and the fragile protections afforded to limbs. Evolution has a lot to answer for. I was worried my recent alterations were for nought, but one sword strike to my back that would have killed me instead missed my liver and struck only muscle.

Fortunately I have been able to supplement my own studies with some notes collected from Fyffe, who no longer requires it due to his recent and long overdue termination. As evil and psychotic as he was, he possessed a remarkable understanding of anatomy and physiology. With this information I now have detailed files and with a little more research and experimentation I think I can double the effectiveness of the enhancements I made.

The study will have to wait as we still need to get out of Korvosa. Before we can do that we still need to find Vencarlo and unfortunately the Emperor did not have him. He did however, have Salvatore locked up. Salvatore told us that Vencarlo had gone looking the seneschal who had sought refuge with the Arkonas family after fleeing from the bitch queen.

I do not have the heart to tell him, but I think that Mandraiv’s girlfriend has it pretty bad thing for Salvatore and may end up dumping him. Hope he’ll be ok. I know he is pretty fragile about such things and has he already has pretty low self-esteem, evidenced by the pursuit of ugly freaks. On further thought the pursuit of the attractively challenged may be symptomatic of a deeper issue and that he is in denial of his true romantic inclinations. I have heard this is common amongst elves.

We gained an audience with Lord Arkonas who is rumoured to run much of the illicit activities in Korvosa, but has no love for the Queen and rewarded us with a pretty sweet magical ring for getting rid of the Emperor and so he must be alright. We were told that Vencarlo and the seneschal were on the estate, but had been placed in a dungeon for their own protection. Only this dungeon is more of a labyrinth and that we would need to go in and seek them out ourselves.

Being a labyrinth it is not only possible to get lost, but we were also warned that there were various dangerous beasts and traps inside, good times. Apparently when you are wealthy you build labyrinths, hopefully I can think of better ways to spend my money if I am ever this rich.

We entered down a long spiral staircase and were immediately attacked by three large plant-like monsters. For plants they hit extremely hard and wielded their scimitars with uncanny skill. Sparrowhawk was chopped down, pardon the pun, almost immediately and I was felled after stepping up to protect her. If the empirical data gained from being struck was not so valuable I would very likely be sick of the succession of injuries I have been sustaining since my freedom. All in the name of science.

Excerpt from the histories of Helious Prime.

Seems the Shoanti is pretty good with the alchemy stuff. The plague was cured, queens physicians shut down, we were heroes. The others don’t seem worried but it worries me. We had shut down a massive plot and so become targets. I don’t intend to ever walk about wounded or sick again.
We got access to the city watch treasury, sadly it had no adamantine armor and nothing else was of interest so I settled on a double musket. Always fancied them as a one shot opener to start battle with now I just have to find a way to boost the damage, perhaps with a holster of vigour.

The queen, for appearances, had a ceremony in our honor to further distance her from her from the plot her PR agents were fast distancing her from. Fairly standard fare however my companions seem ever more unusual. Their about as subtle as a lava flow at night.

The relationship between the summoner and that eye-DOUGH-lun or eye-DULL-un, idol image thing intrigues me the most, its almost like they have the same soul or are some form of manifest schizophrenia. Like all the pent up frustrations of the summoner, all they wish to be are lived out in the summoned creature. More unusual I sometimes feel I am much the same… a manifest agent alive to live out the fantasies of a lowly dissatisfied being. This makes it more intriguing, like some form of cascaded 3 way delusion where the manifest agent has its own outlet to a deeper subconscious. Bah, what nonsense am I scribbling, I really have to lay off that human lolly water and get back on the dwarven spirits. Such thoughts can only lead to a life dawdling under trees, sipping wine and general elvishness. 

Elves… I dream of butchering their silly faces, its why I enjoy guns so.. too long have they hidden behind their bows, at range, like cowards. I believe guns are the invention that shall make them as extinct as they are in my dreams.

After a relaxing day shopping I was even more baffled by these humans. The normal looking human – the shoanti was going on about how puny wounds were while at the same time having been spared the brunt by the cleric sylvana, usually healed constantly by our cleric sol and more ironically complaining like a elf when wounded. Such whining in combat I can barely stand, when its followed after combat by blustering braveness its all I can do to not cleave his legs off at the knee. That he solved the plague problem is the only reason his still standing on something other than bloody stumps. He whines like an elf and fights like a kobold- always ganging up, or sneaking behind. I have my food stone full with him.  He needs to learn control, comportment and replace his stubbornness with stern steely resolve.  I expect it will be like forging with bad ore, but a good craftsman never blames the materials at hand.

It seems our cleric has changed his faith, so I hear, I don’t really pay much attention as I have always assumed Torag is the only worthwhile god. Had the odd religious chat with sol, I like his quietude and commitment to his choices over those of his past. Its got me thinking about gods. Torag always gets my worship and more importantly I always spill some spirits in his name yet what has he done for me? Dwarves don’t respect those who are poor traders so I imagine it is with gods. If a god wants my spillage they should do more.

My thinking was interrupted as it seems we have to find some people abducted by some self proclaimed emperor. Apparently some relations of the summoners girlfriend. I find it quite predictable that the summoners interests would coincide so closely with some douch that proclaims themselves emperor. Also the sable marines was being disbanded after the queen offed their boss. Just reinforces that we should be wary and always at full health in my tome.

On that note it’s also good riddance in my tome, any group of rangers (who all seem good at ranged combat), with access to flying mounts is plain unfair in my book. All but underground even a small force of them would dominate any confrontation and be able to lay waste to armies. Pitty our fem-sable marine couldn’t get us some of those hippogriffs, they would have made lava racing much more interesting a hobby. Instead I had to put up with some stupid human superstitious harrow deck reading thing, I really wasn’t paying much intention and just hope my clans innate resistance to magic makes such nonsense inert.

I would go the queen but it seems not everyone can hit anything they want, I love guns, its like undermining the laws of the gods legally. It’s a dwarven dream. Anyway cause these humans are behind the technological times we went out to bag this deluded self-proclaimed emperor. We stashed some people, followed some leads, found the blackjacks hidden stash, indescribably didn’t slay some sicko cleric girl but joined her, offloaded my double barrel into some thugs and got to the emperor.

That alchemist guy was with him, fluff or whatever, the party seemed in awe of and scarred by.  The female archer got some good shots in but I declared he was going to die and die he did after two rounds of shots. Fluff indeed, I really don’t know what this party is up to. I think that even before they could have assisted each other and dropped the looser. Got the feeling the shoanti was almost willing to raise him just to get some words and perhaps some torture in. Living longer is the true win, I REALLY hate elves, the other is spending eternity in a good place.. I recon fluff ain’t.

The others stacked on the emperor and gnome in good form and like any opponent well targeted the emperor dropped along with a gnome despite a little confusion. The psyco-cleric that joined us this time was just a liability especially with the confusion, we won out though. Seems having a dwarf about is starting to have an effect. Pitty bout the gnome, funny little sturdy buggers I just cannot help but be enchanted by them.

Excerpt from the histories of Helious Prime.

Everyone seemed worried, I imagine that’s why one of the clerics at the hospice insisted on coming with us. Sylvana I believe the one whose anger went unanswered the day before.  She was newly outfitted and seemed keen to assist.

I gave them all a quick lesson in dwarven tunnel tactics so we could enter and leave the lift without getting in each others way. They quickly forgot, but it eased our entry, and allowed us quicker response against the waiting zombies. Eventually some vampire, a wizard and the high priestess appeared. They threw up some wind but it merely hampers the lead shot which relies more on force then aerodynamics. The Archer lady had little problem footing it to get clear shots, such a tactic might have been a problem if the casters had substantial melee back up, but as it was they were ill prepared. She is remarkably good, or maybe its just that she somehow gets tremendous assistance from clerics. Must be some sort of sexism humans are so fond of. None of that in dwarven holds- from her first whiskers dwarven women are treated as equals.

Knowing the cleric could slay people with a spell I kept a bead on her. Justin must have been beset by idiocy to die at her hand, as an spell breaking inquisitor his the one that pointed out the sense in shooting casters to disrupt them, such a sensible option it should have come from a dwarf. Fool humans always forget their plans and favor wild flurries of ‘action’. It is fatal lunacy to greedily chase damage output.

 

The tactic paid off well. I disrupted two of her spells, I don’t know what they were but I am pretty sure one lot of damage and negating a spell was better than two lots or even four lots of damage. I will have to remember to keep using this powerful skill even when I am more experienced and can shoot many, many times a round. I have no doubt that one attack and a powerful spell is more dangerous then many attacks. I recon I saved at least one of these rampant goons from dying by not showing off with damage.

 

Slyvana was very useful most of all for her pre-emptive use of shield other. With it the many armed Shoanti was able to stay standing even with his disregard for anything but hitting things. Good spell that, allows a cleric to be part of the combat through proxy and enabled her to double up on all burst healings. Even better it meant she bought herself a couple of rounds where she didn’t need to heal so could weigh into the combat.

 

The human male cleric dropped. He was too focused on others health and ignored hisown, it’s always best to be fully healed my gran used to say. I was surprised how flimsy he was. Seems to me if you’re not at least average mentally and physically and most importantly tougher than average adventuring isn’t really the best path to take in life. Cold nights, stone floors, disease, poison, foul potions .. the adventurers life takes a hardy constitution.

 

In the room there was an idol of their plague god. I decapitated it with my ancestral axe. I figure my vengeance for Justin is complete and the head of a god is a fitting door jamb for his tomb.

 

Seems while I was doing that and the others looted the Alchemist looked through the notes we found. He recons he can cure the plague now. Funny profession for a Shoanti that Alchemy thing, I will have to keep an eye on that one he might just get a little too addicted to his potions.

 

Hmmm there’s a though. Job is done but the task is not it seems. I might just stick around these humans; they need a guiding hand from a grizzled old soul.