04/07/745 A.E. Continued... Just after sunrise...
The foul air reeks of the putrid odors of orcs, the enclosed underground chamber's lack of ventilation making it difficult to breath the heavy, sickening smells of death, stale urine, and feces. Janjit nearly gags as the adrenaline recedes and the smell kicks in. "God! this is worse than living in an outhouse," he said.
"Are they all dead?" inquired Katsumi, holding her nose and trying to breathe through her mouth as much as possible. The devil hunter began checking the bodies, making certain they were dead and looking for anything of value. Janjit joined her in her search, but found nothing of importance. Not much of value here, but there was a lot of that valueless clutter.
The stone floor, still slick with blood, led away to the north, eventually coming to a set of double doors going west. Some concerns are raised about going home, but Janjit says he thinks they should press on and Trekken agrees. Katsumi throws the doors open where a long hall heading west presents itself. In the dim illumination filtering from Garren's Continual Light rock somewhere behind her, Kat sees the floor is covered in colored, stone tiles (Black, White, Blue, Gray, and Red, with no discernible pattern). Janjit cringed as Kat unexpectedly opened the door. "You, my friend, need a few serious lessons about door traps," he told her in a lighthearted tone. She looked at the rogue and knew she was being impulsive, the weariness of the long day was making her careless. "I'll remember it next time," she promised. "You're learning," he smiled at her and then looked past her into the hallway beyond, his thoughts flowing toward the more immediate concerns of other possible traps ahead.
Sedoc tosses a rock into the hallway and watched as it skipped down the floor. Nothing unusual happened. Kat wondered why he did that and some answer it was a way to look for traps. "Ohhhhh... traps? Why would they trap a commonly used hallway in their own base? That seems to be ASKING for accidents," she said, proudly striding forward, confident in her knowledge. Trek, the brave, followed close behind, again keeping Kat within eyesight and under guard as he had done in the past. Janjit walked beside the holy warrior. The others follow.
It isn't long before Katsumi yelps in pain, a fiery burning pain running from her foot up through her leg. She gave out a soft cry as she fell, more out of surprise than pain, though the pain was terrible. Janjit looks down at the red tile she had stepped on, but it seemed normal to him. Garren came to Kat's aid while the rogue tapped his dagger against the next nearest red tile. Hmm, nothing. Kat, in her fury, slashed at the red tile with her katana. A nice sword, the katana, for she managed not to seriously damage it against solid stone, but nothing odd happened. Garren hands Kat one of his few remaining healing potions. "Here, drink this," he said, and she took it from him and imbibed its entire contents. A feeling of warmth came over her, spreading throughout her body and running down toward her leg. A soft glow could be detected and she felt the potion's healing power repair her leg. Soon, the glow vanished and the pain diminished to nothing. Garren was quite relieved when Katsumi seemed to be better, the worried look of concern being replaced by a softer, happier smile. "Perhaps we should stay away from the red tiles for awhile," he suggested as he helped her up.
Turning the corner, more red tiles than normal littered this section of the hall as it moved south. Trekken, unafraid, strode forward. "Thor, protect thy servant," he implored as he approached a red tile. Hefting his mighty hammer, Trek smashed the tile with all his might. A chip of stone flew up, but nothing more. He chips away at all the colors, ruining several of the 3/4-inch thick tiles completely, but nothing but noise came of it. So, he walked forward, convinced no color was to be avoided. Unfortunately, when his foot touched a red one, a searing pain shot up his leg and into his abdomen. He just jumped back and punished the offending tile with his hammer, breaking it into several pieces. Then he moved forward again.
Four doors could be seen now; two in the east (one leading north, the other east), and two much closer, both going south but separated by nearly 35 feet of wall between them. Janjit and Garren, along with Katsumi, went east and checked out the door leading north. It eventually revealed no traps and opened into a cloakroom (devoid of cloaks, but plenty of hangers). Trek, on the other hand, continued to press on and went inside the westernmost door leading south. It entered into a temple-like area; eight wooden pews (perhaps room for 50 people) faced an altar behind a wooden railing toward the front of the temple area. Trek boldly strove forward, kicking over a section of railing and headed toward the altar. Sedoc and Gillmesh followed close behind, brandishing their weapons, prepared for nearly anything. Sedoc noted the second door they had seen also led into this room, only farther up front. No big deal, a large room with two doors.
Trek stood before the altar looking at the symbol upon it, a dark moon setting on the horizon, a symbol of foreboding. He considered the altar, even tried to Detect Enemy in a place that seemed to radiate an ill omen. Yes, the altar was an enemy, and this revealed some intelligence about the thing for objects do not normally show up under the holy warrior's gaze when he looks for enemies. Using all his muscle, Trek lifts his heavy hammer and swings it in a wide, generous arc, its full momentum impacting upon the altar with a cry of resistance of stone vs. metal. "I BANISH EVIL IN THE NAME OF THOOOOORRRR!" he shouted. Naturally, this made Janjit, Kat, and Garren curious and they came running.
A disembodied spirit rises from the altar, looming over Trek, and it speaks an Unholy Word of sorts and waves its flowing arms at the holy warrior. A wave of death spreads before him, hitting Trek full on, and to a lesser extent, catching both Sedoc and Gillmesh in its aftermath. It gripped Trek's soul, spiraling him toward his doom, and he fought to overcome its malevolent effects, but to no avail. Something snapped within the holy warrior, separating his soul from his body, and Trekken, holy warrior of Thor, dropped dead right there near the broken evil altar.
Weaker when it reached them, the greater distance offering some protection, the wave of death engulfed Gillmesh first, then Sedoc. Gill resisted, finding an acceptable alignment within the wave of death, enabling him to ignore those aspects that were anathematic to his person. The wave passed over him and he remained, shaken, but not stirred. Then Sedoc, proud ranger from the wastelands of Tor, confronted the death wave, his link to the powers of good and justice sorely tried under obvious evil, but he resisted the thing, his character too strong to succumb to a secondary attack. The wave passed over him and the ranger stood in its wake. The spirit before them all then vanished, its home, the stone altar, no longer suitable for habitation. If Trek had been alive, he could have told everyone that the sense of evil and unease emanating from this place had vanished, but Trek was no longer on this mortal plane.
"Sheit!" cried Gill as he bounded over to Trek's lifeless form and dragged him back away from the altar. Kat appeared in the doorway. "What the hell happened to Trek?" she asked, looking around for signs of obvious danger but finding none. Gill checked Trek for a pulse, found none, pressed his ear to the warrior's chest, heard nothing. Then he administered first aid, or all he knew how, but it didn't help. Sedoc knelt beside the pair. "Is he alive?" Sedoc then began to work on Trek, using his skills in emergency procedures to help restore Trek, but the holy warrior was beyond all help of that nature. After a few minutes Gill and Sedoc both looked up for their labors and slumped back, sitting on their heels. "He's dead; gone." Kat examined Trek herself, unwilling to give up so easily, but she produced no better results. Despite still being warm, the man was dead, and that's the worst kind of dead, really.
From behind a tapestry they spied a lone man emerging from a concealed door. Upon seeing the invading party, he thought better of it and quickly went back inside, slamming the door. Janjit was instantly at the door, and then pulled the tapestry down revealing the damn thing. Gillmesh rushed headlong into the door, smashing it down before any could lock it. He saw a man there, and he seemed to be just completing a spell.
COMBAT BEGINS:
R1: Janjit rushes into a clear firing position and takes careful aim at the man in robe-covered platemail. He cocks his arm back when suddenly a strange, peculiar feeling washes over him. "Is this man a friend?" he thinks, but he knows he isn't. Yet the question dominates his mind. "No!" he screams to himself, "it's a trick of the mind. Resist, Resist, RESIST!" The odd feeling falls away, the enemy stands before him and the rogue lets his daggers fly. The man is casting a spell, and Janjit curses as both daggers miss their mark.
Sedoc enters the room, making sure he does not get in Janjit's way and block his aim. He raises his bastardsword and prepares to cut the man down when it hits him. "Friend? Is this man my friend? Yes, he is, no, it makes no sense; there was an enemy, I know, but where? Perhaps behind my friend?" Sedoc lowers his sword and passes the casting man, looking for the enemy he knows is somewhere near.
Kat deftly moves through the door, obscuring Janjit's line of fire for only a fraction of a second, then she swings around like a dancer and draws her katana in one fluid motion to strike the man down. "Where is he? Where did the enemy go? My friend is casting a spell, I can see that, but where is his target? That man must be hiding somewhere." Kat looks past the casting man as his spell nears completion.
Garren looks on from outside, wondering with whom they are attacking. Surely not their friend, which made little sense. Too many were going through the door now, so he thought he'd have a look in a minute. "It must be some enemy behind our spellcaster," he thought.
Gillmesh looked at the casting man. A perfect target, standing there, casting, his movements at a minimum. Even that platemail wouldn't help him. Gill readied his dart-like daggers and carefully aimed at the man. "Friend? Wait, this is my friend, isn't it? Yes. Yes? No? No. NO!!! A lie, a trick, a deception. The man is clouding my mind; strike, Strike, STRIKE!!!" "Die! you scum!!!" he yelled as he threw his stilettos at the casting man with all the might he could muster, hitting him in an arm and a leg, stopping the Sleep spell.
Ah, Sanctuary is such a nice spell, but it's not perfect. At least since his Sleep spell was messed up, he didn't technically attack anyone, so the Sanctuary spell was still in place, but Voreal took little comfort in that. "How did they bypass all my orcs so quietly?" he wondered. Then it hit him. He had soundproofed the inner sanctum so he didn't have to listen to the obnoxious snoring of his piggy minions. "Damn!" he thought. I did this to myself.
R2: Kat looks around the room, both in a cupboard and in a closet, but she could not find the enemy she knew must be near. Then she heard an unearthly growl from behind her. Janjit moved closer to the man who had started casting another spell, the rogue's Wakizashi held in his hand. He sliced into the man's robes but found only metal. More of Gill's handiwork stops the spellcaster yet again. Damn, those stilettos are nasty. Gill draws his sword and closes with the priest/mage. Sedoc begins looking around for a secret door. "He must have fled through another secret door," he thought. Well, what do you know? Sedoc finds a secret door.
R3: Janjit digs at the man with his weapon, finding just a touch of flesh through the metal armor, the much softer meat yielding to the hard metal of the weapon. It was enough to stop this man's spell again. "Crud; I'll die here unless I can escape!" thought Voreal. Garren attacks a Hellhound from behind that was glaring at Kat, looking for an opening so it could sink its teeth into her soft, tasty flesh. Garren's trident misses as the dog-like beast jumps away at first, but quickly back at him in a surprise maneuver. It breathes on Garren, the flames licking his flesh, but its teeth missing him, finding the priest's armor somewhat studier than these hellish canine's fangs. Sedoc opens the secret door, peering inside, where he sees a sandy floor with tracks on it. "Ah ha!" he thought, "that's where you went, you little bugger."
"At last," Kat thought, "a real creature from the lower planes, and a hellhound no less." She moved into position to fulfill her calling and take this devil-dog out. Unfortunately, her katana missed and well as her dagger. Gill circles the man, his sword ready. He looked at the man, this foul human who would consort and plan with orcs. He looked ready; ready to die. "I'll help him," he thought. "Strike!" he screamed to himself as he thrust his sword up and square into the man's chest. His blade penetrated the plate armor, piercing the man's chest and felling him were he stood.
R4: A flurry of Katsumi's attacks fall upon the hellhound with blinding speed, the hound yelping like a hurt puppy. It bites her in return, its teeth sinking into the devil hunter as its flaming breath licks at her as well, scorching her skin, burning her, the smell of cooked blood emanating from her arm. Sedoc kept looking for the man, and then went into the tunnel, but then it hit him. "Why am I looking down here for a man behind me?" The warding spell, apparently, was gone. He turned around to see Janjit jumping over the man's body in a smooth, tumbling move, and watched him come up next to the hound, striking it. A hit! The blood-red eyes of the beast glared at the rogue, knowingly. Pure hatred could be seen there, an intelligent beast, it would have given much to have its teeth in this man's throat just then.
Gill cuts into the hound, a nasty wound opens up and fiery blood spills forth. Wow, that looked pretty neat. Garren moves over and puts all his weight into it, and then he falls upon the back of the beast that was intent on Janjit's jugular. The trident pierces its back, breaking its spine in twain. A cry and a belch of flame erupts from the mouth of the beast, its fiery blood spurting out onto the floor, congealing, quickly cooling, finally taking on a reddish cast.
COMBAT OVER:
Janjit laughs insanely, slowly calming down. Katsumi Yuriko slumps to the floor, only slightly charred. Janjit turns to the robed fellow and cuts the corpse's throat, just for good measure. Garren winces slightly as he moves over to Kat and puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it slightly, "You doin' alright?" Janjit looks at his new friends, "How is everyone?" Katsumi nods weakly, but smiles. All is well, and everyone, in turn, (except Trekken) indicates they are ok. Garren, on the spur of a moment, leans forward and softly kisses Kat, and then trots off to look after Trek. Slightly surprised, Katsumi just stares after Garren. Then they move Trekken's body.
Trekken, holy warrior of Thor, stood there, looking. Well, he wasn't actually standing, as near as he could figure. Floating? It seemed more like floating, like he was in water - thin water - maybe air? Maybe it wasn't really air, either. But it was like floating, somehow. And, come to think of it, he wasn't actually . . . breathing. He looked down upon his body as his friends tried to bring him back, but it was no use. He was separate now, apart from his body - the silver cord was cut. He wondered where he was.
"You are on the astral plane, my child," said a voice in a beautiful soprano. He tried to spin around and see who spoke to him, but he couldn't move. "Why can't I move?" he thought. "Why can't I turn around?" As he thought this he began to turn around, just by thinking it, apparently. A plane of thought, movement was controlled by the mind, not by the muscles he no longer actually possessed, despite his outward appearance. Before him, in a beautiful, gossamer, almost transparent gown, floated an angelic being. She smiled at him, and he was instantly at peace with her; maybe even a little aroused.
"I am an angel of Thor, one of the Valkyrie, and I have come for you." He blinked and wanted to rub his eyes, but he really didn't have eyes anymore - only what seemed like eyes.
"Are you going to take me to Valhalla? Am I to see Thor?" he asked. Again, she smiled at him.
"If that is your wish, my child, chosen of Thor, but there is still much to do on Orlantia. Do you wish to depart the mortal realm with so much left undone?" she asked.
Trekken thought about it, while her beauty was obviously drawing him toward paradise, he wasn't sure he was ready to go. But Thor wouldn't wish this, as long as he could still strive for his Lord's holy cause. "I do have much to do yet, but how will I return?"
The angelic being floated over to him, touched his face and caressed it. "Your friends, even now, have taken your body to Thor's temple in Alodar. You will be presented with a choice."
Trekken looked down, his body was gone. "So quickly?" he thought.
The angle laughed lightly and smiled. "Time is rather different here. Many things are not as they appear."
He looked at her flowing gown. "Will you stay with me?" he asked.
"Yes, and I will lead you to Valhalla should their efforts fail, but wait, listen, watch, and pray for what you truly desire."
Trekken waited, holding her angelic hand, he waited, and thought about what he wanted.
Wounded, tired, long overdue for a rest, the party gathers up everything they can find and starts to head out. On the way they scout out the rest of the basement area and map it well. They even find another secret door (though they left the underground tunnel behind it for later). This other secret door led into a wine cellar with many dusty and cobwebbed-covered racks and bottles. Mostly, it was elven wine, and many bottles were probably over two hundred years old. Some of these older bottles were worth a lot, perhaps 50 GP each (that's $5,000 for one bottle, which is not bad). A few took some wine with them, but most of the 2,000 bottles remained, once again hidden by a secret door when they left. (Total value, about 45,000 GP, gasp! 1,000 at 10 GP, 500 at 20 GP, and 500 at 50 GP, it would later turn out.)
Not able to carry much more besides their dead comrade, their first order of business was to get out of here. They managed to do this with no difficulty, though some onlookers saw them leave the supposedly abandoned building, wondering. A constable was on hand and questioned them. They relayed little information, but enough for the constable to let them pass. Then they went to Kat's place where Anne had been waiting for them.
The mage had counted and calculated several things in the interim, and taking a few new acquisitions into account, she told them they would each have at least 4,000 GP each, after taxes and tithes, of course.
NOTE: Far better to pay 10% to the gods, and 10% to the Alodarian Empire if one finds treasure within their boarders, or one's primary dwelling is there, lest one run afoul of either gods or government, both of which would take a dim view of those that withheld what was rightfully the gods' or the government's due.
First things first, however, so they took Trek into Alodar to his temple. The ritual lasted only an hour or so, but soon Trek's eyes fluttered open. Trekken looks at all of them with teary eyes. "Thank you, my friends, thank you." Trekken lay there, visibly shaken and still weeping from joy, or love, or . . . something. Weakened by the death experience, he lay there, unable to move for many hours. His thoughts centered on the angel and on Thor. What would they want of him? He must serve his Lord, he knew, though perhaps there were better ways to do this than just by fighting. Should he take up the robes (become a priest) as well? He could, he knew, since most of his training already ran along those lines.
Selling the statue to a man named Frakes for 5,000 GP, the gems for 8,000 GP, some magic items no one really wanted more than the money they would fetch, and a few incidentals they picked up here and there (like orc swords and armor), the party paid the temple for its services and took Trekken home. Trekken curled up in a little ball in the wagon, muttering the whole way home. "So beautiful . . . so beautiful." Once home, they rested for two days, healed, prayed, and divided the spoils of conflict and adventure.
04/09/745 A.E.
Lord Waverly (mayor of Little Falls) looked at the report, and then he read the diary the constables had found. He positively shook with the horror of this man's plan. These young adventurers deserved much thanks. He consulted with the counsel and town elders, and then he went to find them.
A knock at the door. Katsumi answered the summons. Waverly introduced himself and explained what he wanted. He relayed the tale of the diary, even gave the book to them the constables had found when they quickly searched the mansion to make sure no immediate threat to the city still lingered. The mayor offered praise and a parade for them, but mostly, he offered the dilapidated mansion as reward. Though run-down, if they would fix it up (and pay the estimated 1,500 GP to do it), the town would gladly give up this old eyesore in exchange for a nice mansion filled with adventurers who tended to throw a lot of business their way. "Oh," he thought, "to be always on the look out for ways to benefit the town, even while honoring these braves heroes," he felt he was using them a bit, a bit disgusted at his more mercenary duties. "Oh well; nothing I can really do about that," he concluded.
Waverly left after the party agreed to accept the mansion and the terms that went with it. He left the diary.
The Diary of Voreal Wizen
(I'll just relate the highlights, these few excepts, being perhaps the only ones truly pertinent).
740 A.E.
As I set out to make a name for myself, I've decided to keep this journal for posterity. Someday, when I'm a powerful wizard, I'll probably like to look back and see how foolish I was, fondly remembering my mistakes with a bit of humor. Besides, many may like to read my diary after I'm powerful and famous, so they, too, will be able to learn from it and follow my path of greatness.
07/16/40
My comrades have just brought me back to life. I died in the claws of a giant crab-like beast, thinking to draw it away from our priest. I only succeeded in meeting my own death. Thank the gods Benson, our priest, insisted they use most of the captured treasure to bring me back. Those other bastards wanted to let me rot. Except for Benson, I don't think I can trust any of these other jerks. But they are still my best bet.
08/02/40
Arrgggghhhhh! I was killed again!!! Thank Benson for my life. I know I should have stayed in the back, but that jerk, Marcel, goaded me into the frontlines, taunting me with his words of how useless I was. If that wasn't bad enough, I understand he wanted to leave me to rot again and save money, thus increasing his share. What an incredible bastard! It was my efforts that secured the bulk of the treasure, well over 15,000 GP. If that son of a bitch ever crosses me again I think I'll just kill the ingrate.
12/12/40
Horrible! I've died yet again. And all they left for me was a book of spells. Normally that wouldn't be so bad, but after studying the book for a few weeks I discovered I could not understand most of the arcane work. I died for nothing, or nearly so, and that bastard, Marcel, once again voted to leave me to rot. He must go, and I will kill him at my first opportunity. This, I swear to the gods!
19/18/40
That's it! I keep dying and dying. But I've just learned that on two occasions, Marcel could have saved me and kept me from dying, and it was his job, but he just didn't "feel" like it. That's the party-talk I hear, sometimes when they don't know I can hear them. He must really hate me, and though I plan to kill him soon, since he so richly deserves it, he couldn't possible have known that back then, so why did he just let me die? He saves other party members, damn it. I guess he just hates me, that's all. Besides, I didn't make up my mind to kill him until after he had let me die more than twice, so his reasons for letting me die must just be motivated by pure hatred of me, or something else, and not my current plans for his demise. I guess he's stupid, an order of intelligence lower than that of most oak trees. Or perhaps he naturally hates mages because of our superior intelligence. He is somewhat stupid. I'll bet just being in the same damn room as I makes him feel like the idiot he is. Ultimately, I don't really care why he did it; he'll pay the ultimate price for it. I'm not just going to kill him, either. I'm going to make sure he never comes back!
But first things first. I've decided I've been deluding myself and that my aptitude for being a mage is not as high as my aptitude for being, well, something else. After the next adventure, I'm going to begin my studies as a priest.
20/04/40
Happy day. Glorious day! A short excursion into a sea cave produced next to no treasure, yet Marcel died! (with a well timed lack of my help, naturally). I offered my hand out to him, naturally, but when he reached for it, I pulled it back, and down he went. That was quite a fall, too. So sorry, Marcel - you jerk. What goes around, comes around. And we didn't have enough treasure to bring him back unless we all go out and immediately find something of value. Well, we did, but I didn't see a clear reason to fess up and tell everyone about the ruby I found. Besides, I deserve it, for all I've done for this ungrateful group of morons. And without enough money here and now, any future Raise Dead spell will not be timely enough to save Marcel's sorry ass. They wanted to rush out and try to find funds, but I told my other party members I was too busy and wouldn't go. They pleaded with me, telling me without my magic they couldn't hope to pass a door in a complex we've yet to finish, one where they feel certain we can make a quick score. Too bad Marcel, you should have been nicer to me. The weak-of-mind should perish anyway. Oh, Benson isn't happy with me, but he'll get over it.
20/05/40
Those incredible bastards kicked me out of the party! Can you believe it? Me? Voreal Wizen, smartest man they've ever known. They're such fucking losers, anyway; they don't deserve me. Let Marcel rot in the lower Abyss! The others can join him for all I care. Even Benson, since he voted for my departure, can go the 9 hells as well. I guess he wasn't my friend after all. Someday, I'll kill them all.
09/02/44
Well, about four years have passed since I last picked up my diary. In that time I have made a study of my deity and devoted myself to her. Bless the Goddess Hecate! It turns out my aptitude was far better suited to being her priest anyway, and my mage training is nothing but a bonus for the goddess of magic. At last the power and respect I richly deserve will finally be mine. But I haven't forgotten those who "helped" me along the way. Yes, especially Benson. He must die. I decided that they all must die when I stopped to piss on Marcel's grave this morning. Life is sweet.
My training with the priests of Hecate is now complete, and my deep understanding of magic and its use should accelerate my progression within her sacred hierarchy.
11/16/44
After completing my clerical training under the auspices of the magnificent goddess Hecate, I went to work trying to advance her cause. I was fortunate in the course of my endeavors to learn the whereabouts of Benson. I shall kill him tonight with poison. Happily, I also learned the rest of my former party members are all already dead. Hecate smiles warmly upon me. Blessed be the goddess.
11/17/44
Success! Benson is dead, and at my hands! And I got rid of his body. Nobody will ever see that sucker again. Such lovely things he had, too. They're mine now, as they should have been in the first place.
01/05/45
I am advancing rapidly within my order. By securing an abandoned building in this town some pholars back, I made the best move possible. The temple area is complete now and things are going well. My plan to import some of the more illegal poisons is coming to fruition. Excellent. With these, I'll be able to eliminate anybody who gets in my way. I've started a bit of grave robbing as well, not for the paltry treasure they may have, but for the bodies themselves. I can animate them now, and they will make perfect guards to protect me while I sleep upstairs here, killing all living souls who dare enter, myself excluded, naturally.
01/05/45
That son of a bitching mayor, Waverly, stumbled upon my shipment. Foolish bastard that he is, Waverly just accidentally fucking tripped over it before my minions could bring it to me. Now he's taking credit for being "clever." As if! He wants the respect of the people of this town, but I'll give him the respect he deserves. That'll teach him to destroy 40,000 GP worth of exotic poisons. Hell, I could have sold it for double that with my connections! Now I'm nearly broke again. What remaining money I had, I used to finish Hecate's temple. For my loyalty and sacrifice, she rewarded me with a hellhound. He's quite the animal, one of her sacred fire-breathing dogs, though he is a small one, but he'll grow in the fullness of time. And I have all the time in the world.
04/07/45
My plans are going well. It took some time and effort, but I've gathered a hoard of orcs who have recently been displaced from their home to the east. I don't give a damn about their problems, naturally, but I'll tell them I do, and I'll use them, these simple-minded animals. Hell, they're easy to control and to dupe. I've promised them wealth and power beyond any they have ever known, but only after their job here is complete. I promised to take them back to their home and wipe out whatever it was that was bothering them (some men, I guess, but I don't give a damn, so I didn't bother getting any details). Stupid fools! As if I'd keep my promise to an animal anyway. They deserve to die. But first, I'll use them as is befitting a man of my importance. I can always kill them later.
Tonight, under cover of darkness, I'll set my orcish minions loose upon the town. Women, children, shopkeepers, what a joke these weakling town dwellers are. Wouldn't allow a temple to Hecate to be built here, eh? I'll show them. Sure, the constables are tough enough, but before they can corner and kill my orc minions, the little piggies will kill hundreds of town folk. Waverly will be disgraced!!! Oh happy day. I love it when people get what they have coming. I love it even more when I'm the one responsible for giving it to them. Then, with the town in turmoil, I'll be able to step up my plans with the Hill-Giants living just north of Lake Placid. Life is sweet for those who deserve it. For the rest, they can rot in the Abyss.
The Diary Entries End There.
Well, so much for the diary. The ink on the last entry was barely dry, but there would be no more. Voreal Wizen would not be coming back from the dead this time. Did he get what he richly deserved? Who can say? Where he might be right now in the afterlife is anybody's guess, but I sure won't speculate further on it on my own accord. The GM has better things to do. Anyway . . .
Janjit, playing with stacks of coins, figured out the puzzle box. Apparently 10, 32, and 120 were the correct answers.
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One had to touch them and only them in succession, and could have not have touched any others that day, lest they have to wait a full day before another attempt could be made to get into the box, but those were the answers to the 3 sequences presented. Inside the puzzle box he found mithral pieces, a magic ring, and a Green Pearl. He divided most of the coins with his friends, kept a few, and considered his options.
For the next 60 days everyone is planning on training, learning, shopping, having fun, or in some other way filling the time until they will next meet. Scheduled meeting time, the morning of 07/09/745 A.E. in the great hall of the mansion (their new home). Renovations should be well under way by then, perhaps even complete.
SESSION ENDS:
© December of 1999
by
James L.R. Beach
Waterville, MN 56096