# Zerubbabel Jangle's Journal (as of 25 April)



## Mark Chance (Oct 4, 2004)

This is the journal of Zerubbabel Jangle, thief and devotee of Garl Glittergold. (I hope to strike a balance in my soul between larceny and liturgy, and so escape at least the worst punishments which surely await me when I die.)

It is fall at Fort Brighton in the eastern marches of Ulek near the wild, evil lands of the Pomarj. The war is more or less over, but the folks of the Wild Coast have not fared well. Their free cities are no longer free, but now languish under the iron fists of orcish warlords. Or so we've heard.

Our mercenary contract at Fort Brighton is almost ready to expire. We've been in the employ of the garrison captain for some time now, doing reconaissance and guard duty. Nothing too exciting or too dangerous so far. I guess I should explain who we are. There is my twin brother, Mupp, who is a bard. The muscle of our merry little band is the dark-skinned human foreigner called Ebon, who is a monk. Ebon speaks little, and understanding his language of signs and gestures is an amusing challenge. Our most powerful companion is the elderly human woman Shadra, who is a psion.

Today we must go to two frontier farmsteads and evacuate the free farmers there. Orcish incursions are increasing, and these folks cannot defend themselves. Down the main road we travel heading east. I ride my trusty donkey. I call her My Ass because of the comic potential. I sit on My Ass. My Ass is sturdy or hairy. And so on. We have a small wagon drawn by a couple of draft horses, all supplied by the garrison. Shadra and Mupp ride in the wagon. Ebon, who is fleet of foot, usually walks.

Our trip is uneventful all the way to the first farm. There we helped Farmer Carrey and his family load the last of their belongings into the cart. Carrey insists on bringing his herd of cows, about 40 head all together. I can't say I blame him. It's bad enough he's having to leave his homestead, but to also lose his livestock? Of course, none of us four known anything useful about cows, but Carrey ensures us that he and his sons can keep the herd moving and together. Farmer Jonas's homestead is several miles farther north. We make it there a few hours before night's fall, and help him get the last of his good loaded. We've a regular caravan now. There is some dispute between Carrey and Jonas about the cows, but both farmers stifled that noise when I told them we were taking the cattle, and if Jonas didn't like it, he could escort his family to Fort Brighton on his own.

We spent the night at the Jonas farm, and headed out at first light. We weren't back on the southern road too long before we rendezvoused with Captain Demetrius and his guard. The Captain was escorting another farm family from farther north. We formed up the entire group, and moved on, hoping that our good fortune would continue.

Unfortunately, Garl likes for gnomes to test their luck in situations more stressful than a wagon ride. A band of orcs found us a few hours after sunrise. There were about fifteen of the creatures, all mounted on wolves, and then came charging toward our rear flank, panicking the cattle. As they spread out to hit our left flank, we opened fire. I dropped one orc with a couple of well-placed sling bullets. The others did some damage as well with their crossbows, but then the orcs were on us. The vile monsters went for our animals first, hoping to cripple us.

Ebon and I jumped into the fray. Ebon raced to the rear to defend Jonas's family. I moved toward the front of the column, and called Garl's bane down on several of the attackers. I then drew my rapier and moved to flank one of the wolf-mounted orcs in melee with one of the Captain's men. The orc proved easy enough to dispatch, but the wolf was another story. I suffered serious injuries before it too was dead.

All told, we killed or routed the orcs with no casualties except for two horses. I called upon Garl's healing, but my faith is not that strong. Perhaps more time spent in prayer rather than in the gambling room is in order? I am also a passable field medic. We moved the injured to one wagon. Shadra acted as nurse, and I ministered the wounded as best as a I could. I was especially concerned for one of Jonas's lads who caught a crossbow bolt, but his wounds proved less grevious than I feared. The boy lives thanks to me.

We moved on an hour after sunset before we circled the wagons to form a corral for the cattle. Our fears were soon realized. The orcs had indeed trailed us, and this time a larger force was on hand. Ebon spotted two different groups of orcs, all wolf-riders. One group began to harrass with crossbow fire, probably intending to draw us out so that the second group, supposedly unseen, could hit the caravan without its guards. We suffered the crossbow fire as best we could while Ebon and Shadra slowly closed on the orcish missileers. I gave Ebon my last sunrod so that he could light up their position once the fight began. Meanwhile, the Captain readied his men while Mupp and I made plans to disrupt the other group's charge.

Ebon apparently managed to get nearly the crossbow group's midst before the lit the sunrod. Shadra burst a few of the orcs into flames. The other group began its charge quicker than we had expected. The stampede Mupp and I started missed its mark, but did manage to slow the charging orcs down just a bit. This gave Shadra time to climb a tree. Ebon, who is quite fast on his feet, broke ranks and started leading the wolves back toward Mupp and me. All the while, they nipped at his heels, and Ebon was sorely injured by the time he reached the circle. Meanwhile Shadra kept using her psionic powers to destroy orcs. Mupp and I took up defensive positions on a wagon and used crossbows, but I must confess I could not get the hang of such a large, heavy weapon. Most of my shots missed their marks.

By this time, most of the orcs were trying to get Shadra out of the tree, and most of the wolves were attacking us in camp. I'd have rather been in the tree. Mupp leaned too far out to take a shot, and a wolf caught his throat. I managed to pull Mupp back into the wagon, but his wound was mortal. I left the fighting to two of the guardsmen and stopped Mupp's bleeding, applying both bandage and a minor divine magic to the cause. He regained consciousness, but was still weak and unsteady.

Desperate times calling for what they do, I dropped a tanglefoot bag on one wolf, gluing into handily into place. I caught another with alchemist's fire, but not before one of the guardsmen had been killed. Slowly, between our crossbows and Shadra's psionics, the tide of battle turned. Another guardsman was felled by a wolf, and so I abandoned the safety of the wagon. The few other wolves were too occupied to stop me from attending to the man's wounds in time to save his life. For the third time that day, I was a hero. Surely Garl will credit me these good actions. The fight came to an end when the last few orcs and two wolves fled not to return. We had lost one man. Mupp, Ebon, and another guardsman were all sorely injured. Shadra had suffered a minor wound. Amazingly, I was unharmed. Praise be to Garl for that!

We made it the rest of the way back to Fort Brighton without incident. Between mundane and magical care, all of our wounds were healed by then. Back at the fort, the garrison captain paid us our week's salary. We rested for a couple of days before heading back out, this time without farmers and cattle in tow. We ventured eastward into the foothills of the Drachensgrab Mountains, trying to gather intelligence about orcish troop movements. We weren't too far on the other side of the river when we heard a company of orcs passing by. Ebon checked them out, and estimated their numbers to be at least one-hundred-twenty. Certainly more than we cared to attack!

So we followed them southwest toward the Ulekite coast where they set up camp on the south side of the river. By this time, we were on the river's opposite bank. A few ogres joined the company later than day. Ebon made haste to the nearest fort to report in, but the captain there, a cowardly man, took no actions to defend his charge. Apparently he thought two gnomes, a foreigner, and an old woman would do that for him. Thank Garl that the orcs didn't think to use skirmishers to patrol their flanks, or we would surely have been caught tailing them. The beasts are too confident, no doubt in some part due to Ulek's timidity.

The evening Ebon returned, the orcs tried to send a force across the river in several boats. Shadra's psionics ruptured the boats and broke orcish bones. We caught a few crossbow bolts, but the orcs were firing blind. Shadra sank four boats, and not one orc on any of those vessels made it back to shore alive. During the night, the orcs broke camp. They'd lost at least a tenth of their number, and must have reckoned us more powerful than we really are. As the orcs headed back toward the Pomarj, we followed about a half day behind them. Tracking such a large group was child's play even for us, but hiring a ranger for our merry band is something we need to do.

We tracked the orcish company back to what must have been some sort of staging area. There were hundreds of orcs in the ravines of those foothills, including orcish women and children. Perhaps a baggage train for an army? We lit out of the foothills back to Fort Brighton and made our report but, again, I doubt anything will be done. These Ulekites seem content to simply sit and wait until the orcs have gathered enough strength for an assault. The fools!

For our next mission, we set out northeastward, on the eastern edge of the Suss Forest. That place has a vile reputation, and I greatly feared encountering some of the giant spiders said to hunt there. Fortunately, our one encounter so far was considerably less dramatic and easily handled. We apparently wandered into forbidden territory, as we were ambushed by a half dozen creatures I believe were lizard folk. After dropping three of their number, I negotiated a cease to the fight, for I speak their language. The leader of the lizard folk told us we were trespassing, and demanded a toll of twenty gold pieces. We tricked him into accepting one-hundred silver instead, an act that Garl is bound to bless us for. Obviously, the creature confused volume with value.

We are almost out of the Suss now. From here we move into the Wild Coast, trying to determine orcish movements around the conquered city of Highport. It is indeed dangerous territory, especially for Mupp and me. Gnomes are not at all common in the area, and I fear we're likely to be viewed as both enemies and tasty delicacies by the evil humanoids in the region.


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## Hairy Minotaur (Oct 4, 2004)

Good read, I like it.


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## skullsmurfer (Oct 5, 2004)

great read, i look forward to more


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## Arkhandus (Oct 9, 2004)

Aye, stories about gnome PCs are always fun to read! Hope to see more! I liked your write-up of the events, keep it up!


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## Mark Chance (Oct 9, 2004)

*How I Got My Ass*

It's my shift on guard duty. Garl, this is dull! And the Suss has absolutely the noisiest crickets and cicadas I've ever heard. A drunken ogre could stagger up on us, and I'd not be able to hear it coming. So, since I'm bored, can't really hear anything except bugs, and it's getting too dark under the canopy to really see much, I figured I'd write some more. This time, how about a story from several months ago, before Mupp and me came to Ulek?

Mupp and I hail from Spinter's Hollow, or, as I like to call it, Sphincter's Hollow or just the Sphincter. Our hometown is a terribly dull place situated in the Kron Hills. The Sphincter is built atop, hanging on to, and within a limestone bluff that drops into Blackberry Pond, so called because of the thick patches of blackberries that grow around it. The top of the bluff is actually a wide plateau that slopes gently down to the arid plains on the opposite side. Blackberry Pond is fed by infrequent rains, an artesian spring, and outflow from the lower caves which are almost entirely filled with water that also comes from natural springs.

The one really great thing about the Sphincter is the skitfish. By Garl, I love skitfish! For you big folk who aren't in the know, skitfish are kind of like salmon, but they live in underground in cave lakes and rivers. They aren't blind like many subterranean fauna, but instead have an antenna tipped with a sac of leathery tissue that glows brightly when the skitfish are excited or hunting. Skitfish don't spawn underground. They swim to the surface, to places like Blackberry Pond, returning year after year. During spawning at night, the pond glows like the full moon, and we have a grand time catching skitfish by the net full. Once filleted and lightly breaded, skitfish is best served grilled with a thick, bittersweet blueberry sauce. The Skitfish Festival is the high point of the year, and we all eat and drink until we're fit to burst, go home to sleep it off, and then do it all over again the next night.

The skitfish's sac is also useful. It can be harvested, and the phosphorescent liquid is used in the production of sunrods. It can also be fermented with malt, barley, and hops to make skit-ale. It's a sensitive, pale ale that goes great with blackbread and skitfish roe. Drink too much of it, and your eyes glow. During the Skitfish Festival, you hardly need a lantern to find your way home with all the drunks staggering around.

Anyway, my mother's brother, Uncle Zadok, lives on the downslope of the plateau. He raises tough hill ponies and donkeys. Some of his ponies even get bought up by the jarl for war-training. Zadok and some of his hired hands were out working the paddocks after nightfall one evening. There were storms coming, and Zadok didn't want his stock getting caught out in them. While they were trying to get the stock into the stables, a band of kobolds attacked. Cursed little demons! Too lazy to work for what they need. Zadok got a nasty blow to the head, and one of his hired hands was killed. The kobolds made off with a half dozen ponies, including Zadok's two best studs.

It takes what seems like forever for anything important to get down in the Sphincter. The jarl, Hoboam Filbrick, is the major source of the blockage in the Sphincter, to keep up with the metaphor. He's a got a pretty tough guard, including some well-trained cavalry, but Garl forbid he should want them to actually do anything soldierly. Zadok went to court to present his grievance, but all Hoboam promised to do was to "look into things." Well, we Jangles aren't ones for just sitting around while people look into things. Mupp and I told Zadok we'd try to track the kobolds and the ponies back to the _krevtiks'_ lair. _Krevtik_ is hard to translate into Common, but it has a little bit do with a body's parents' marital status and a whole lot do with barnyard animals. It's kind of an adjective, a noun, and a very colorful verb all rolled up into one.

Now neither Mupp nor I are what you'd call accomplished trackers, but a gang of kobolds leading a half dozen ponies leaves a reasonably noticeable trail, especially in the soft earth below the bluff side of the plateau, which is where the kobolds were heading. There's a veritable maze of canyons not too far to the south of Blackberry Pond, and the jarl does a lousy job of guarding all the ways in and out. The kobolds infest those canyons like roaches, hiding out in dozens of caves.

Fortunately, we didn't actually have to track the kobolds into the caves. In the nearly two days since their raid, they'd made scant progress into the canyons. Near as we can figure, the kobolds had a falling out over exactly what to do with the ponies now that they had been stolen. Stupid, stupid. You figure out how get rid of the merchadise before you steal it, not after. Rank, stupid amateurs. Mupp and I crept to within sling range, and we both opened fire on one particularly fierce-looking kobold, assuming that he'd probably be in charge somehow. Both sling bullets hit home. Mupp says that it was his shot that cut open the kobold's brow, pouring blood into its eyes, but his shot glanced off its shoulder. Still, even though it was sorely wounded, the damned thing didn't have the decency to die or at least be knocked out.

In the next instant, we were ducking behind rocks as javelins clattered all around us. A few of them even had iron points instead of just being the sharpened sticks that kobolds normally throw. We both got off lucky, praise Garl. Not so much as a scratch, but more trouble was coming. The wounded one did turn out to be one of the leaders, and he ordered his faction to charge our position! I'd wouldn't have believed it unless I'd seen it. Kobolds charging a position. I guess they figured that since they had us outnumbered nearly three to one that we'd be easy pickings. The wounded leader stayed back. So did another rather tough-looking kobold and four others. Matter of fact, they actually backed even farther away in order to just watch the fight, or so we thought at the time.

Mupp's and my sling bullets dropped one of the kobolds as they were charging. Then we had just enough time to draw our rapiers before they were on us with their spears. We went back-to-back just like we did during our school days when our classmates would pick on us for being twins. Twins are quite rare among gnomes, and have something of a bad reputation because of some tales about how Urdoth Cavehaunter, a sort of legendary bogey who had twins that ate children. Neither Mupp nor I are particularly strong, which isn't unusual for gnomes, but are both cat-like quick. We had two kobolds skewered in nothing flat, and managed to either parry or dodge their spear thrusts. That left two facing us, the wounded leader, and the other group of five that had hung back.

That's when the magic missile hit me. Turns out the other leader was a sorcerer. By Garl! Those missiles hurt! I staggered, nearly falling into a spear thrust, but Mupp managed to pull me out of the way. The spear point deflected along my leather cuirass and caught Mupp in the meaty part of his leg. The puncture wasn't deep, but it certainly didn't help much. We spun in place, switching foes. I feinted high as another magic missile hit me from behind. Spots swam before my eyes, and I was barely able to capitalize on the opening left by my feint. That kobold died before it hit the ground. Mupp managed to slash a nasty cut on the other one's forearm, and then Mupp began to sing.

Praise Garl! The strong, steady stanzas of Roaring Raska's Elegy echoed off the canyon walls. I've heard that poem hundreds of times. We all had to memorize it as children. But when Mupp belts out those words, it puts fire in the blood! We spun again, switching places. I rammed my rapier through the wounded kobold's neck from front to back. The kobold sorcerer cast some other spell, but thank Garl it wasn't another magic missile. To this day, we still don't know what it cast. Mupp laid hands on me, and I could feel some of my wounds knit themselves back together. A bard might not ever learn too many spells, but the few Mupp does know are quite handy.

By this time, all that was left were the sorcerer, his guards, and the one wounded leader, who lit out of their as fast as he could when he saw the last of his faction fall dead. There was nothing between us and the stolen ponies now except the sorcerer and his guards, and so we charged just as Mupp started the second refrain. The sorcerer's guard met us about half way. Mupp and I jumped apart and caught one on his flanks. That kobold never knew what hit it. The other three got in a couple good licks, but we fought like we were possessed. The sorcerer hit me with another damned magic missile, and so I tumbled away from the guards, rolled up right in front of it, and its sickly yellows eye got as big as saucers. Mupp killed another kobold guard, leaving him facing down two of them with me to deal with the sorcerer.

And deal with it I did. When it started that damned arcane yammering again, I right away swung the basket of my rapier across its jaw hard enough so that I heard bone break and saw pointy, little teeth fly. Mupp was on the defensive, parrying and dodging for all he was worth, and getting more and more tired. The sorcerer started to back away from me, blood pouring from its shattered mouth, but I pressed the attack, knocking it down and pinning it to the earth through the torso. Their leader's death cry brought the other two to their senses, and they acted like kobolds are expected to act, which is like cowards. They turned tail and ran, and neither Mupp nor I were inclined to give chase.

We sat in the dirt and blood near the dead for quite a while, I think, breathing hard and wincing at our cuts and bruises. Then, we rounded up the ponies. They'd run up a cul-de-sac during the brief battle, and we didn't have too much trouble getting them together. We pushed on all night, and made it back to the Sphincter around sunrise. We were both filthy, caked with dirt and blood, and thoroughly exhausted. I collapsed on the settee as soon as we were in Zadok's home. Mupp stayed up and told Zadok and the rest of the family all about our adventure, including the bit about his sling bullet hitting the one leader in the head.

Aunt Sashama fixed a veritable feast for us the next evening, including skitfish with blueberry sauce and two kegs of skit-ale. All of our eyes were glowing that night. Our parents, Durandababel and Muluppa, vacilated between pride and condemnation for our brash actions. Even our older brother Duruppa, normally the apple of everyone's eye, was congratulatory. Duruppa is part of the jarl's guard, and he was very outspoken even in the jarl's court about how the guard should've went out to help Zadok. Towards the end of the evening, Zadok said he owed us for our "heroism." Mupp, trying to play it noble, said no gifts were necessary.

But not me. I knew Mupp and me were planning on leaving the Sphincter to seek our fortunes elsewhere, and so I asked Zadok for a pony. Unfortunately, Zadok didn't think we were _that_ heroic - the old skinflint! - and he gave me a donkey instead. And that, my diary, is how I got My Ass.


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## resscane (Oct 11, 2004)

Very nice story hour.  Was the chapter "How I got my ass" played out?  I really like your style,  and doubly so considering its a Greyhawk story hour.  Thanks for sharing.


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## Mark Chance (Oct 12, 2004)

resscane said:
			
		

> Very nice story hour.  Was the chapter "How I got my ass" played out?  I really like your style,  and doubly so considering its a Greyhawk story hour.  Thanks for sharing.




Thanks, everyone, for the kind words.   

_How I Got My Ass_ was not played out. It's just background fluff.


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## Mark Chance (Oct 31, 2004)

*Zerubbabel Is in Love!*

Well, our adventures continue, and, my diary, I am in love! But more of that later. Let's take things in order.

Shadra, Ebon, Mupp, and I left the Suss Forest a couple of days ago. We've made our way to the North Road, which runs north to south along the Wild Coast's interior. Hiding in the forest with a swamp just on the other side of the road, we've been tracking orcish troop movements. It's amazing how quickly I got used to the sight of scores of orcs marching here and there, although I must confess the infrequent ogres are frightening. By Garl, they are huge! Even with my innate gnomish talent for avoiding giantish harm, I'd be loathe to confront one of those brutes. But back to the road-watching. To be honest, I'm much too talented a hider for the orcs to ever spot me. Mupp is pretty good at hiding too, especially once I gave him a few pointers. Unfortunately, Shadra and Ebon have fallen to some sort of swamp-fever. I pray to Garl for their health, and I do the best I can to make them comfortable. My talents as a lay healer are being put to good use.

Early morning on our second day of road-watching, Mupp spotted a trio of foot-travelers moving south along the road. They were the elfish fighter Zara - the lovely Zara! -, the elfish ranger Glyth, and a human warrior named Jax. I hope I'm spelling those elfish names correctly. My elfish is horrible. Somehow, Zara's keen, beautiful eyes managed to spot me in my hiding place. How observant she is! The meeting was tense for a bit, but Mupp and I quickly assured the travelers that we meant them no harm as long as the feeling was mutual. We moved away from the road to our camp.

And then we heard Zara's sad tale. O! my heart broke hearing her tell it. You see, Zara and her companions were part of a larger group on a rescue mission, trying to free a dwarf named Florin from the vile clutches of orcish slave traders. Her group was caught off guard by a force of orcs. Half of their number were slain. Glyth led Zara and Jax into the wilderness, evading their pursuers, and he even managed to get them ahead of the slavers, hoping to set up an ambush on the road. Zara explained that they have a man inside the caravan, a half-orc named Grunk whom Jax bribed over a round of ales at a roadhouse some days previous, which is also how Zara learned about the caravan's route toward the Pomarj.

As Garl would have it, Zara's path crossed ours, and who am I to argue against fate? Mupp and I agreed to help Zara rescue the dwarf. I feigned interest in the reward, but, to be honest, I couldn't have denied assisting Zara.

She is an angel! Is it foolish for a gnome to love an elf? Cherkee Vodo, that great gnome poet, says, "Love makes us into noble fools." Mupp, of course, was leering at her like a slavering puppy hungering after a meaty bone, but he knows better. Surely his repulsive behavior is for my benefit. Mupp is no fool, and he has absented himself from the contest for Zara's love in a way that not only increases the odds of my success but also serves to highlight my natural charms. A rose surrounded by weeds looks all the more beautiful, after all. O!, if only Zara would pick me!

We set up the ambush. Zara, Glyth, and Jax took positions about forty or so feet south from Mupp and me. The idea was to catch the caravan between these two hands and crush them. The waiting seemed interminable, made tense once by a trio of passing ogres. Thank Garl they didn't spot that clumsy human Jax. About an hour later, in the dead of night, the orcs arrived.

There are six of them plus one vicious-looking war dog them guarding the mule-drawn cage holding the trussed up Florin. I cursed silently that there were two half-orcs present! How was I to know which half-orc was Grunk, our supposed ally? I also noticed one of the orcs bearing the vile symbol of Gruumsh, surely meaning he was a cleric of that wretched deity. All four orcs and both half-orcs were heavily armed and armored. These were not like the skirmishers we faced when helping those farmers to safety.

Zara started the attack, firing an arrow at the lead orc. Its cursed chain shirt took most of the impact. Glyth fired next. I've often heard stories about elfish prowess with the bow, but seeing is believing. Glyth fires twice as fast as Zara, and with greater accuracy, but even still the lead orc remained alive. I moved forward a bit and let fly a sling stone at the cleric. If I catch an orc off its guard, I can strike with deadly precision, but I misjudged the distance. The stone glanced off the cleric's helmet, and I doubt even its ears were set to ringing too much. The orcish cleric moved a bit toward one of the orcs and began casting a spell. Mupp fired his crossbow, striking the cleric a solid jab that disrupted its spellcasting.

And then the fight was on! How many battles must I be in before the fear, even terror, passes? Does it ever pass? Do even hardened warriors secretly shake inside whenever they draw steel? One of the orcs was an archer, and it returned fire at Zara while the other lead orc charged their position, screaming loud enough to wake the dead. I instantly regretted leaving hiding. The war dog, one half-orc, and another orc charged me! Me! A lone gnome armed with a sling! I must present a fearsomeness I didn't know I possessed to attract such attention. The only good thing was the I was pretty sure it was the other half-orc who was our double-star up the sleeve.

The dog caught hold of my sword arm, twisting it badly before I could get free. The orc caught me with a glancing blow off my left shoulder that numbed my arm and side all the way to the hip. Praise Garl that I was able to slip away from the half-orc's longsword, or I'd have been split from head to navel for sure. For my part, I withdrew back past Mupp's position, using the undergrowth to confuse my attackers and slip into a hollow behind a tree. I heard fighting, but couldn't see anything at this point, but I bought myself enough time to call the healing power of Garl into my wounds.

With most of the damage healed, I drew my rapier and emerged from hiding. Mupp was now surrounded by the orc, half-orc, and war dog. The fight between Zara and Jax and two orcs appeared desperate. Jax was obviously sorely injured. Glyth's arrows whistled through the air, knocking a few links of the orc cleric's chainmail. Seeing that bold leadership was needed, I charged, bellowing, "Cheeble!", hoping that the name of that great gnome general would strike fear into our enemies' hearts. My rapier point cut a gash in the orc fighting with Mupp.

Then, horror of horrors!, Jax went down under an orcish axe, and then the orc archer fired an arrow into him! What beasts are these that would prefer to attack a downed foe rather than one of us still up and fighting! I could also see the awkwardness in Zara's steps. My love was also badly injured, and I was too far away to assist her. Besides, doing so would mean abandoning my brother. Who could make such a choice? I yelled for Zara to come to our side. That way, I could fight to protect both her and Mupp.

Finally, the turncoat Grunk took action, catching the cleric from behind with its (his?) longspear. The howl of surprise and pain was most satisfying. Zara heeded my instructions and raced to Mupp and me. Even wounded, she moves like a gazelle. What grace! My bold charge may not have demoralized the orcs, but obviously it inspired my allies, for Zara charged the same orc I did. Thank Garl the woods in this area aren't too thick.

Did I mention Zara also uses a rapier? My weapon of choice in the hands of the most heavenly creature I've ever seen. Can this be mere coincidence? Of course not!

Glyth's arrows continued to harass our foes. The orc who downed Jax retreated to aid the cleric against Grunk. Mupp, Zara, and I slashed another orc to the ground. Finally, the tide had turned. My charge was having its desired effect after all. Grunk was embattled by the cleric and orc. Mupp and Zara killed the war dog, and the other half-orc withdrew toward its allies. By this time, Glyth and the orc archer were exchanging arrow fire. They stood nearly in the open a mere twenty or so feet from each other and simply fired, but Glyth soon had the better of that exchange.

Meanwhile, the rest of the fight had moved to the road. Grunk faced the cleric, an orc (who was apparently the cleric's guard), the other half-orc, and an insanely enraged orc. While Grunk appeared horribly fierce, those odds were too great, and so I led another charge. What bravado! Cherkee was right. A noble fool indeed! Zara and Mupp followed close behind me, and soon the fight against Grunk was four on four. I took a nasty jab to the hip, and felt the sword tip strike bone. Garl! What pain! I nearly shattered a tooth clenching my jaw to not cry out. In the next instant, Grunk succumbed to his wounds. Would we lose two allies so quickly?

One of the orcs tried to slip around behind Mupp, but let its guard down. Using a move I taught him, Mupp spun and launched an upward jab that slipped under the orc's chain shirt and deep into his entrails. The orc was dead before it hit the ground. After that, the battle was all ours. The cleric fell next, then the other half-orc. Glyth shot an arrow through the orc archer's throat.

I tended to our wounds as best I could, managing to save Grunk's life in the process. Jax was quite dead. I also picked the lock on the cage, even though Mupp had taken the keys from the cleric's body. Who needs keys? I can get into Father's liquor cabinet without a key; an orcish lock is child's play. Florin was somewhat worse for wear, but not too badly wounded by rough treatment. We broke camp as quickly as possible, having stripped the orcs of their gear and throwing the bodies into the swamp. I destroyed that detestible symbol of Gruumsh. We loaded gear into the cage and took it along with our own cart, and began the trip back to Gyrax.

Along the way, we met those lizard folk again. This time, they didn't attack us. I negotiated a toll with them, and we gave them three of the shields we took from the orcs. They don't seem to be a bad sort at all. If we pass back through there, I really should bring some more appropriate gifts. Allies are always useful.

We had one major scare on the way back. Zara woke me on her guard shift and said she heard something big moving through the trees. How she could hear anything over the Suss's infernal bug noises is a miracle. Since I am quite stealthy, I snuck off to investigate, and found a lone monster the likes of which I'd never seen. It was huge, at least the size of an ogre, with long, rubbery limbs and a green, bumpy hide. By the way it sniffed the the air, I feared it my catch my scent, so I slowly moved back to camp. When I described the monster, Mupp said it sounded like a troll to him. Imagine that! A troll! If it had been closer to sunrise, I'd have felt braver, because everyone knows trolls turn into toads when sunlight touches them.

Eventually, we made it back to the road to Gyrax. We were attacked by two creatures that resembled, of all things, demonic chickens. Zara says they were cockatrices, the peck of which can turn flesh to stone. I collected some of their blood after we had slain them, thanks largely to Grunk, who had recovered from his wounds by this time. I'm a bit of an alchemist, and I recalled that cockatrice blood has some alchemical uses, but I couldn't quite recall for what.

In Gyrax, we sold our loot, getting a reasonable fair price thanks to Mupp's negotiating skills. We also collected the reward of 500 gold pieces for Florin's safe return. While that was being done, I found the local alchemist and sold him the cockatrice blood for 750 gold pieces! Garl will forgive me for not sharing with the others. Of course, that isn't quite true. I did share some. I forget to mention we had taken two magical potions off the orc cleric. I paid to have the alchemist identify them for us. One is of cure light wounds and the other is a magical toxin. Both will come in handy. I also purchased some more alchemist fire, another tanglefoot bag, and two more potions of cure light wounds.

Later in the day, I purchased a score of masterwork arrows for Zara. My purse is nearly empty again, but the delight in her wonderful eyes when I presented the gift to her were worth every copper. Soon, Zara will see that I am more noble than fool. Well, my diary, that is all for now. We do have another assignment, but I'll write about that later, and Zara and Glyth have agreed to join our merry band. Grunk says he'll be staying in Gyrax for the time being. Perhaps we'll meet him again. Only Garl knows for sure.


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## Mark Chance (Nov 1, 2004)

*Some Limericks*

Well, I'm back on guard duty. By Garl, why am I having to stand guard when we're traveling with over twenty cavalrymen? Aren't there enough of them to do this?

I thought I'd try my had at some poetry, but all I really, sort of know how to write are limericks. Here are a few:

There's this gnome from the Sphincter
Who mixed up an unusual tincture.
He put it in an orc's cup,
And the orc drank it up,
Which made his extremities much, much pinker.

I met an elf maiden named Zara,
Who is unbelievably faira.
I bought her arrows in a quiver,
And the gift made her shiver,
Maybe now she'll show me her underweara.

Shadra is a psion no one matches,
But her clothes are always in patches.
Whenever she is asked why,
She can be heard to reply,
"Because when I itches, I scratches."

Well, that's enough for now. I think I hear something shuffling among the rocks over there.


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## Aliro (Nov 6, 2004)

*Mupp’s Marginal Musings*

Limericks, my dear brother, are a form of music, and you best leave the music to experts.

There once was a daring young gnome
Who traveled away from his home
He left with his brother
They met many others​And still to this day does he roam


So wander o’er hill and through wood
As any good traveler should
Go gather some friends
The fun never ends​Raise a glass, kiss a lass, life is good


The monk, named Eben, is quiet
He speaks, but rarely does try it
He strikes like a flash
He strikes with panache​He’s handy, I won’t deny it


So wander o’er hill and through wood
As any good traveler should
Go gather some friends
The fun never ends​Raise a glass, kiss a lass, life is good


The woman we all know and love
Shadra appears meek as a dove
She strikes with her mind
Leaves none left behind​What wonder from great Garl above


So wander o’er hill and through wood
As any good traveler should
Go gather some friends
The fun never ends​Raise a glass, kiss a lass, life is good


The half-orc, he’s big, name is Grunk
He’s dangerous, has lots of spunk
Well, he turned the tide
We all might have died​He dropped those bigguns with a thunk


So wander o’er hill and through wood
As any good traveler should
Go gather some friends
The fun never ends​Raise a glass, kiss a lass, life is good


The archer, an elf name of Glith
A great one to go trav’lin with
He’s death with a bow
A musical show​Elves and their bows, tis not a myth


So wander o’er hill and through wood
As any good traveler should
Go gather some friends
The fun never ends​Raise a glass, kiss a lass, life is good


Oh Zara, fair Zara, my lass
An elf and a gnome, is it crass
My poet’s duty
She’s such a beauty​She’s got her a cute little…


(Ahem)


So wander o’er hill and through wood
As any good traveler should
Go gather some friends
The fun never ends​Raise a glass, kiss a lass, life is good


Travel and look forward to more
And try not to be such a bore
Go gather some friends
The fun never ends​Raise a glass, kiss a lass, it’s no chore


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## Mark Chance (Nov 14, 2004)

Aliro said:
			
		

> *Mupp’s Marginal Musings*




Cute and well done. Of course, I will print this out and, completely in-character, claim that Zerubbabel wrote the entire thing.


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## Mark Chance (Nov 16, 2004)

*The Foolishness of Certain Humans*

I don't understand humans. Well, at least some humans.

First, some good news. Our company of adventurers continues to grow. Cord, a human archer, and Merik Moonlight, an elf cleric, joined our ranks. If this continues, we'll be an army, or, at the very least, have to hire camp followers to keep our baggage train in order.

But back to why I don't understand humans. In Gyrax, a human prelate of Pelor named Anthony hired us to capture several thralls of Nerull. It seems that the Nerullites in the Pomarj have discovered a means by which they can completely dominate the wills of captives from the few mountain tribes in the area. These humans, under Nerullite control, are used for slave labor, sold in slave markets in Pomarj-controlled areas, and Garl knows what else. So, Anthony of Pelor asked us to capture some of these thralls so that Pelor's church in Gyrax can discover how the thralls are controlled and how they can freed from this control.

All of this sounded fine and good, even noble, but then Anthony tells us we'll be accompanying a platoon of Gyraxian cavalry under the command of Captain Lorence. So, we took our letters of introduction to Lorence, and his greeting was less than friendly. In fact, he was downright rude. After dismissing us, he stormed to the temple of Pelor and had words with Anthony, which I overheard because I have good ears and quiet feet.

Now, here's where the humans really start to stop making sense. Lorence and his sergeant are armed with wands of paralysis that are specially enchanted to be effective against the thralls. But, once the thralls are helpless, what does Lorence order his cavalry to do? That's right: He orders them to attack! These thralls, almost all of them humans from the mountain tribes, are nearly unarmored and armed only with clubs. They are held immobile by some kind of magic. What kind of people attack their own like this?

But I get ahead of my story.

We left Gyrax with Lorence's cavalry and traveled for a couple of days on this reprehensible search-and-kill mission. The morality of the situation is extremely questionable at best, but no one except Mupp and me voiced much concern, at least not that I heard. Still, there is a heavy pall over our group. These adventurers I travel with aren't paragons of virtue (or common sense, as Cord will prove), but we are decent enough. Garl knows we certainly do not attack helpless victims. We wove our way through the Drachensgrab foothills for three days before we came to a gang of thralls laboring on a road. It seems as if the lords of the Pomarj seek to increase their ability to move troops through their rocky home.

We saw no sign of the thralls' masters, and wrongly assumed that the gang had been left to labor under only the supervision of whatever hellish enchantment binds their wills. While the cavalry line prepared for its charge, Lorence and his sergeants drew the wands. The magical energies from these devices paralyzed the entire gang of thralls! I think at this time I still could not believe that Lorence and his men would be so bloodthirsty as to actually attack helpless slaves, but I was wrong.

As the cavalry charged, lances dropping for the kill, I noticed two things. First, Lorence stood back from the charge. This has become a common tactic among Gyraxian officers. No wonder they barely won the war against the Pomarj when their leaders are too afraid to draw blood but have no compunction about slaughtering the helpless. Are they any better than the orcs they war against? I failed to see much difference this day. Second, I noticed that I couldn't believe my eyes. Neither could Mupp or Shadra. We all just stood there, watching the dust rise, hearing the hooves thunder, recoiling as the cavalry slammed into the helpless thralls.

I think Ebon was the first to move. Our silent monk rushed down the left side of the field of battle, avoiding the slaughter, ducking behind rocks and sparse mountain bushes. Ebon did not make the assumption as the rest of us, that the thralls were unsupervised. He instead assumed their masters were nearby but hidden, and he sought them out.

While Lorence and his sergeant watched the murder, the rest of us moved forward, hoping to capture at least five thralls before the cavalry killed them all. Lorence could not even be bothered to order that this minimal number be spared. The monster! I followed behind at some distance, ready to use my healing skills where needed. I also kept a close eye on my love, the elf fighter Zara. She is too brave, racing into the fray to rescue what thralls she could for transport to Anthony in Gyrax. Mupp stayed close to her as well, and the elf cleric Moonbeam was there also. Glyth and Cord kept their distance, bows at the ready. Shadra also stayed back some ways, at least at first. By this time, I'd lost sight of Ebon, who was on the opposite side of the killing field.

Let's take a moment from describing the "battle" to reflect on Gyrax's stupidity. These thralls are victims of Nerull and the orcs. They are captured peoples who would otherwise oppose the evil rule of the Pomarj and its allies. But Gyrax, rather than free them from Nerull's bony clutches, instead kills them. Does this hurt the Nerullites or the Pomarj? No! These victims would be killed eventually by their wicked masters. Gyrax rests contented with butchering helpless thralls or strategically meaningless forays against orcish skirmishers in the frontier, and leaves the true, growing might of the Pomarj unchallenged. When the conquered people of the hills and the Wild Coast have been completely destroyed, will the Pomarj be any weaker? I fail to see how. Instead, Gyrax expends its strength, and weakens their spirit.

The butchering of the thralls continued for several long seconds, and then the paralysis wore off. The true colors of the cavalry were revealed when the thralls were suddenly able to fight back because at that time Lorence ordered the cavalry to fall back! Shortly after this, the thralls masters made their appearance, and the impotence of Gryax's soldiers became even more apparent. This cavalry unit, with its horses and steel, was being routed by club-wielding, half-naked thralls, one ogre, one orc, and two human warriors.

Now that the thralls were a threat, we were all forced to fight. Ebon engaged the leaders from their rear flank, attacking one of the human warriors. Glyth and Cord let their arrows fly. Zara and Mupp fought side-by-side, and how I envied my brother that honor! Moonstruck peeled off to the left and intercepted one of the human warriors. Shadra took mental control of the ogre, surely a good thing for our side, but we did not reckon with the orc, for it was a cleric of Nerull.

The Nerullite cleric's first move was to somehow counter Shadra's psionic control of the ogre. What a horror to suddenly have that giant once more on the side of our enemy! As the cavalry fell farther back, it also became apparent that they weren't even a match for the thralls, at least now that the thralls could defend themselves. I saw armored soldiers pulled or knocked from horseback. I saw Zara and Mupp fighting against a couple of thralls, but Zara was no Gyraxian cavalryman. She defended herself ably and held her ground as the ogre and Nerullite cleric advanced toward her.

Then that hateful cleric took another action that enveloped nearly a twenty-foot sphere in impenetrable blackness. Zara and Mupp vanished from sight within that inky ball, and I panicked for my love and my brother. As the cowardly Lorence and his incompetent soldiers retreated from the fight, we, the real warriors, took up the challenge.

I checked the status of my visible allies. Ebon seemed to have the upperhand against the human warrior. Moonlight appeared evenly matched with the human warrior he fought. Glyth, Shadra, and Cord were busy keeping the thralls from turning the table entirely on Lorence's cavalry, although, Garl forgive me, I'd've just as soon seen all of those so-called soldiers dragged from their mounts and bludgeoned. I could make out the sounds of battle from within the darkness: the ogre's roar, some sort of dark-tongued chanting from the orc cleric, Mupp's and Zara's calls to each other. Then, suddenly, Zara's voice stopped mid-call, and I immediately feared the worst. I could hear Mupp call out to her, and then Mupp's voice also stopped short.

By this time, there were several riderless steeds on the battlefield. Mupp and Zara were trapped in the sphere of darkness, either dead or dying for all I knew. As I wrote in an earlier entry, Uncle Zadok breeds fine ponies. Our older brother, Duruppa, is a member of the jarl's cavalry. I am not completely unfamiliar with riding. Seeing that the riderless horses were the only thing running around that were the size of the ogre, I grabbed some passing reins and climbed up them and saddle to the back of a warhorse. Turning the steed toward the sphere of darkness, I urged into a charge, hoping against hope that it would crash into the ogre.

Just before plunging into darkness, I leapt from the saddle, hit the ground on my heels, and tucked and rolled. My bones were jarred a bit, but I was unhurt. I heard the horse gallop on, but could see nothing. Drawing my rapier, buckler raised against a blow I could not detect, I stood still and listened. I heard many sounds of battle, of course, but I also heard Ebon's "kiai!" The monk had entered the darkness as well, probably inspired by my brave charge. Then, I heard the orc start to chant, and so I lashed out. Amazingly, my rapier bit into the orc's flesh, ruining his spell. Then the ogre hit me.

By Garl! What a blow that was! I nearly lost consciousness from a single strike from its massive club. I could also hear arrows whizzing through the darkness. Unknown to me at the time, that fool Cord was firing into the darkness. Whether he managed to hit the ogre or the cleric, I'm not sure, but I do know this: He managed to hit me and Zara! The damage was too much for me, and I blacked out.

The next thing I knew, Mupp was standing over me. He had used some of his bardic magic to heal me. Zara lay nearby, nearly dead. The sphere of darkness was retreating. Cord and Glyth were firing arrow after arrow into it. About every third or fourth shot, I could hear the ogre bellow in pain. Both human warriors were dead, one killed by Ebon, the other by Moonglow and Glyth. The cavalry had all but left the field of battle, and stood off at a safe distance, watching us real soldiers work. Shadra appeared uninjured. Not too long after I revived, Ebon struck the killing blow to the ogre.

All that was left now was too loot the dead. We managed to save five thralls as well, and transported them back to Gyrax for Anthony of Pelor. Lorence came over to us and begged that one of his men be saved. Moonbeam took care of that healing. Lorence and his men be hanged for all I care. Back in Gyrax, we sold our loot. I paid for Cole the alchemist to identify the potion we took off the Nerullite, finding it to be a potion of lesser restoration. Considering our next venture would be against a small temple of Nerull, this potion may be quite a find. I also bought Zara some perfume made from rose petals and cherry leaves. A heavenly fragrance for my elfish angel.

Well, my journal, this is all for today. Tomorrow, we head back into the Pomarj to find and destroy the Nerullite temple. With luck, we'll also uncover intelligence about the Nerullites' activities.


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## Aliro (Nov 16, 2004)

*Mupp's Marginal Musings*

Once again I 'borrow' my brother's journal to ensure the truth comes clear.

*Why Am I Here?*

Contrary to the highly philosophical title of this entry, I am more concerned with right here and right now. Indeed, why am I working so hard, risking life and limb, for these people? After the embarrassing display of those ‘buckets’ from Gryrax, I begin to wonder (as does my brother, obviously) why we are out here on the front lines of a war between these two miserable groups of bigguns. I mean, the orcs of the Pomarj are obviously a problem that must be dealt with, somehow, but after riding around with this cavalry in their shiny armor on their big old horses, I am beginning to dislike them almost as much as the orcs. You would never catch one group of gnomes slaughtering another group of gnomes, like those tin buckets did. Oh how brave! “We have paralyzed the thralls, let us charge in with our lances and slaughter them before it wears off and we are put in danger.” I mean really! Even jarl Filbrick has more backbone than that. I admire the attempts of the church of Pelor to find a reasonable solution to the problem…one that leaves the poor thralls alive. I believe that is all that sustained me towards the end of this mission.

If it were not so serious, I might have laughed at what happened to the ‘Charge of the Bucket Brigade’ once the paralysis did finally wear off. Thirty ‘buckets’ on their noble steeds were seemingly no match for a group of unarmored thralls on foot and armed only with sticks. As usual, it fell to our little band to save the day. I followed Zara into battle against the thralls and their masters. (She moves like quicksilver, and it is all I could do to keep up with her!) When she fell to the evil magic of that twice cursed cleric of Nerull, I made a feeble attempt to rescue her, but I was not up to the task. (No more neglecting the warrior’s ways for me. I will train much harder in the future to see that this does not happen again!) A crashing blow from an unseen foe nearly did me in, but as fate would have it, Zara protected me, even while unconscious. Her lovely body shielded me from further attacks from that cleric and his ogre companion. Once free of the restraining magic of that krevtik cleric, I was able to revive both Zara and my brother, who had charged in once again to save us both. (I fear his foolish bravery will be his undoing one day.) Our little band had carried the battle yet again, and all would be well given time. We secured our thrall prisoners and delivered them up to the church of Pelor. Now it is time for some paybacks to the temple of Nerull that we have heard about. Alas, were this mission not against those who have harmed my family and friends, I would have little reason to persevere. I have fallen into a great dislike of these bigguns here abouts.


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## Mark Chance (Nov 16, 2004)

*Cord Loses His Hair*

We're back in the Pomarj, and I'm back on guard duty. Cord is rubbing his newly bald head. More on that later. Flipping through these pages, I realized I left out an incident from the night I wrote those limericks. Recall the shuffling among the rocks? Well, this is what the shuffling was all about.

The night I wrote those limericks, I was on guard duty alone. Ebon, Shadra, Mupp, Glyth, and Zara were all dozing. Ebon, normally the least talkative member of our group, is the loudest when he sleeps. It isn't quite as noisy as timpani players banging away on their instruments, but his snoring does share some of that rumblesome quality. Zara and Glyth are somewhat disturbing to observe in their elf trance, eyes open but not seeing. Shadra curls up on her side and makes strange mewing noises in her throat. Almost infant-like. Mupp just sleeps, usually with his mouth hanging open, breathing raggedly. Captain Lorence and his cavalry are camped several yards away from us. It is obvious that we are an unwelcome presence. At this time, Cord and Merik still traveled with Lorence, having not been formally inducted into our group, although this would change the very next evening.

Anyway, there was this shuffling noise near the rocks. A small, furtive noise, like an animal rooting around. It certainly didn't sound like anything worth waking up the party, so, rapier and buckler at the ready, I stealthily padded across the campsite toward the source of the noise. As I learned from the encounter with those demon-chickens, or cockatrices, even a small creature can be a big threat, so caution was in order.

The cluster of rocks I approached was comprised of several roundish stones worn nearly smooth by the passage of time, arranged very much like a giant child's pyramid of blocks that had been knocked down and left to gather dust, only instead of dust, these blocks were covered with dirt, lichen, and had scraggly hill thistles growing between them. As I've mentioned before, I am exceptionally stealthy, which is only sensible. As is recorded in The _Analects of Garl the Trickster_, "Silence is the beginning of victory." As it turned out, silence can also be the beginning of wonder.

Peering through a crack between the rocks, I spied a faint light, like a distant candle flickering in a window. Then, the light moved, tracing an oval in the air only a few inches above the ground. Then, another light appeared, also tracing a similar oval, and in the dim glow my gnomish eyes could see that the little lights were lightning bugs tied to gossamer threads which in turn were anchored to curved splinters of wood forced into the earth. Standing near both curved splinters was a tiny creature like a cross between a cricket and an elf, both wearing pointy caps and armed, so to speak, with slender needles no longer than my hand. More of these diminutive beings were busy working in the thistles growing in and around the rocks. The lower stems of the thistles were covered with a white down that resembled somewhat a spider's web, and the cricket-elves were pulling this thready substance away from the plants. They would then wrap into clumps, and stuff the clumps in tiny bags slung across their chests. What strange harvest ceremony had I accidentally discovered?

I'll probably never know. One of the guards, if that is what they were, spotted me peering at them through the crack between the rocks. It raised its pointy chin defiantly and chittered. Then, in the next instant, as in the blink of an eye, they were all gone. The thistles were stripped of their down, the curved splinters had been uprooted, the lightning bugs were not to be seen, and the cricket-elves had all vanished. As near as I can figure, that keen-eyed guard must have placed me under some sort of temporary enchantment that wore off only after those fey beings had completed their appointed tasks.

Today's events were considerably less wonderful. We again left Gyrax several days ago, returning the Pomarj's borders to seek out the Nerullite temple. We've left Lorence and his band of butchers behind. Back when Mupp and me helped Zara and Glyth free Florin from orcish slavers, we defeated a cleric of Gruumsh. On the cleric was a map indicating to where Florin would've been delivered had we not delivered him to another place. Letters on the orcish cleric indicate that Florin's original destination was a Nerullite temple. Given that Nerull's lackeys are behind the thralldom of the mountain peoples, and that Nerull is a loathsome and hateful deity, I've insisted that we lance this festering wound.

The orcish cleric's map proved accurate, and we found the site without incident. The temple isn't really much a temple. From a distance, it appears to be nothing more than a ruined hill fort. A crumbling stone wall surrounds a single box-like structure. It is no more than one hundred feet to a side. The building is also damaged, most notably a gaping hole in its northern face. Ebon, using sign language, pointed out that this would be a good time for me to take the lead in order to impress Zara with my bravery. It seems as if I have another ally in my mission to earn Zara's love!

We all approached cautiously, but Mupp, Moonshot, and I moved all the way to the building while the rest stayed near the crumbling stone wall. I first snuck to the entrance door, and searched it for tell-tale pressure plates, trip wires, and so forth, but found nothing ominous. With the other two following, I crept around to the hole in the northern facade. The interior was dark and apparently empty. My gnomish eyes had a hard time piercing the darkness even with the faint twilight's assistance. This struck me as odd, but I thought little of it at the time.

Fortunately, we gnomes are an innately magical race, and Mupp sent some lights dancing across the large entry chamber. Smashed furniture, dirty floors and walls, and other signs of abandonment were prevalent. So to was the animated skeleton guarding an interior door some fifty feet away. So to was the damnably loud clanging of an alarm. It must've been some sort of magical alarm, for we never found the source of the noise. The animated skeleton fired a crossbow bolt in my direction, but I ducked out of harm's way. We then retreated from the hole in the wall, expecting Nerullites and their undead minions to rush into the room to attack.

But they didn't. After a while, the alarm ceased, and still no attack came. Moving silently, Mupp and I returned to the hole and made our way down the inside front wall toward the closed exterior door. I wanted there to be more than one exit available if a retreat was necessary. Cord and Moondoggy entered through the hole and moved across the chamber toward the opposite interior door. By this time, the animated skeleton was gone, having retreated deeper into the building. When I opened the exterior door, the interior portal, almost directly opposite, burst open and a volley of crossbow bolts sped my way. By Garl's luck, every one missed me. I heard someone give an order in a tongue I could not make out, and the door slammed shut again.

Not wanting the enemy to have more time to prepare, Cord and Moonshine quickly moved to the door. Moonshine found a secret door along the way. Zara came to my side, and she, Mupp, and I advanced as well. Glyth moved to the hole in the wall to cover us with his bow. Shadra held back, and Ebon was nowhere to be seen. I worried aloud about my monkish friend, and Zara told me that Ebon had climbed to the roof of the building. There, through a hole, he observed the skeletons retreat down a flight of stairs, and that the room beyond the interior door was now empty of foes.

I carefully checked the secret door for traps, but found none. Cord opened the other door and ventured through shortly after Ebon found a way into the room through the roof. Cord cried out in pain as some sort of profane energy coursed through his body. An evil cleric must have warded the door with some sort of glyph. While I owed Cord some payback for his foolishness in the battle against the Nerullite cleric and the ogre, I didn't want him to die. His wounds were bad, but not mortal, and Moonblind cured him. Behind the secret door was a storage room with mining tools, dry foods, and several barrels of passable ale. Obviously, not all of the creatures in that cursed place were undead.

We next opened the trapdoor covering the stairs down which the skeletons had retreated. Even with our light sources, we could only see about fifteen or so feet down the stairs. After that, darkness. Some malevolent force was feeding on the light, reducing its radiance and hampering our progress as a result. I sent lights dancing down the stairs, but when they got to the edge of the darkness they simply winked out of existence. Cautiously, I crawled down the stairs. As I approached, I found I could see a bit farther. The stairwell crumbled away, but there was a knotted rope fastened to a piton which obviously served as a ladder of sorts. I climbed down the rope. Mupp and Cord followed next, and then the rest of the party.

Down below we found ourselves in a largish square chamber. The strange, light-consuming effect continued. Even with two sunrods and an everburning torch, we couldn't see more than twenty feet in any direction. I noticed a hallway nearby, and so I moved in that direction to come face-to-face with four crossbow-wielding skeletons! I called on the divine energy of Garl and channeled it in their direction, sending all four skeletons scurrying away from me. The hallway they were in had been subjected to a cave-in some time ago, and none of the skeletons could go far. Cord raced in after them, but found his sword less than effective. Thank Garl that Ebon's quarterstaff proved a more formidable weapon. Soon, all four skeletons were destroyed. We split up a bit to explore the rest of the room, heading in two directions so as to blanket as large an area as possible with light. Ebon found two other hallways. We picked one, set off down it, and blundered right into terrible danger.

Cord, Zara, and Ebon were in the lead when the bear's skeleton burst from a side passage and attacked. It savaged Cord. I doubt the archer even knew what hit him. It happened that fast. One second, Cord was standing and ready to fight. The next, he had been mauled and smashed headfirst into the fall, and had slumped to the floor an unconscious, bloody heap. Better him than me, that's for certain! Such a fearsome attack would've killed me outright.

Mooncalf moved to fight alongside Ebon and Zara. Then, from our rear flank, we heard Glyth and Shadra call out. We were being attacked from another direction! I pushed past Mupp back into the room in time to see four ghouls lope into the chamber from the other hall. Glyth was quickly surrounded by slashing claws and snapping fangs. A clap of thunder from Zara's direction turned my head back that way. Mooneye lay on the floor, stunned by the sonic attack. By Garl's axe, we now had a spellcaster to fight as well!

Mupp moved to help Shadra and Glyth fight the ghouls, starting one of his inspiring songs as he did. I raised Garl's holy symbol toward the ghouls and channeled divine energy toward them, but to no avail. Some profane power was opposing me, and my faith was not up to the task of winning that contest. Fortunately, Shadra's psionics were not so hampered, and she burst one of the ghouls into flame. Behind me, Ebon and Zara fought desperately against the terrible, undead bear. Ebon was already bleeding from a nasty set of claw marks. Then the Nerullite fanatic racing down the corridor behind me joined the fray.

I'm not above tossing alchemist fire at a foe. Alchemist's fire is a great weapon, and easy to use too. But this fanatic did not toss his alchemist fire. Oh no, he did not. Instead, flask clutched tightly in his fist, he rushed Zara and smashed the vial against her shoulder as if the vial were a hammer. The flammable alchemical burst to life, burning Zara and the fanatic alike, and splashing a bit onto Ebon. In the next instant, Ebon was felled by the skeletal bear. Ebon! Our mightiest fighter. Sure, his quarterstaff had struck several good blows to the undead beast, but it had not been enough. This left Zara fighting the fanatic and the bear skeleton, and Zara's rapier was a poor weapon against the latter.

By this time, Moonfish had recovered from being stunned. I yelled for him to move over Ebon's unconscious body, and he did, putting him directly in front of the undead bear. I rushed into the corridor behind him, grabbed Ebon's shoulders, and strained with all my might to drag him out of harm's way. Meanwhile, Shadra, Glyth, and Mupp were engaged in desperate combat with the ghouls. At such close range, Glyth's bow was useless, and his prowess with a sword is considerably less noteworthy. Shadra continued to use her psionics to burn through them, but the undead do not feel pain or deprivation, at least not like we do. Burn off a ghoul's face, and it can still bite. Run your rapier through its black heart, and it can still claw.

I applied what healing I could to Ebon, and he regained feeble consciousness. I helped him farther way from the bear skeleton and yelled for Mupp. My twin brother broke off the ghouls. Two of them had been destroyed, mostly due to Shadra's psionics. While Mupp cast more healing magic for Ebon, I surrounded him with a shield of faith. About the time was fit to return to combat against the skeletal bear, Moonflower succumbed to injuries. The undead monster swatted him aside, sending him crashing into the to slide to the floor while leaving a smear of blood on the wall behind him. Shadra and Glyth finished off the other two ghouls. The fanatic tried to smash another vial of alchemist's fire against Zara, but she nimbly side-stepped him while thrusting upward and twisting with her rapier. Zara's weapon slid between ribs and undoubtedly inflicted horrible internal injuries. The fanatic died for his cause.

There then followed a loud clattering of bones as Ebon's quarterstaff destroyed the undead bear. Mupp used healing magic to revive Moongate. He and Mupp then applied further healing to everyone they could, but Mupp and I insisted that Cord be saved but not returned to consciousness. Although it was difficult for the party to get him back up the rope, we managed well enough. We then retreated from the temple to a safe-seeming campsite. While the others scouted the area and what not, Mupp and I shaved Cord's head, eyebrows, chest, arms, and legs, except for Garl's rune, which we sculpted from short-cropped hair on the back of his head.

Judging by the look in Cord's eyes as he rubs his newly bald head, I think he'll hesitate before firing blindly into an area where one of his own can be hit by a wayward arrow.


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## Mark Chance (Nov 19, 2004)

*The Dark Effluvium*

The night after our near-disastrous fight beneath the ruins has passed without incident. Thank Garl for that favor. We’re heading back to the ruins in a short while. My companions are making ready: sharpening arrow heads, tightening armor straps, breaking fast. I’m too tense to eat, although I know I should.

My religious training in the ways of Garl is rather pedestrian. I’ve never had much patience for theological study. Still, I have sat at the feet of a few teachers, and I remember a few of my lessons. At this moment, I particularly recall Elder Thomenkin’s lectures on the undead.

Water, heat, and air move in currents, and these currents sustain life. As everyone knows, for example, the heat of the sun causes plants to grow. This is amply shown by the lack of plant-life in icy regions. Of course, hot deserts have an overabundance of heat but little plant-life, but that is because nature there is out of balance between heat and water, so that hardly counts against the fact that the sun’s heat causes plants to grow. Of course, I’m not sure why plants won’t grow in warm, subterranean areas. Maybe they need light also?

Anyway, that’s not my point. The things that sustain life move in currents. That’s the important point. So too about that thing which sustains unlife. There’s an evil current, invisible and intangible, but still potent, that courses through the material world from the negative energy plane. Thomenkin called this the “dark effluvium” or the “infernal efflux.”

The dark effluvium is probably dimly intelligent, and it is certainly malevolent. It responds to evil intentions and is attracted to great suffering. This is why an evil cleric can rebuke the undead, or why a person who dies after a horrible betrayal sometimes rises again as a vengeful undead monster.

A cleric of good-will, such as I strive to be, can channel positive energy from his deity against the infernal efflux. Most often, this disrupts the undead’s sustaining energies only slightly, causing the undead to retreat in what appears to be mortal terror. A good cleric of sufficient experience can completely severe an undead creature from the dark effluvium, thus destroying the unholy creature.

I’m certain the under-ruins are a place where the dark effluvium flows strong and fast. I pray we are not drowned in its cold depths.


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## Mark Chance (Nov 30, 2004)

*Victory is Ours!*

Praise Garl! This has been a week for victories. We’ve defeated the forces of Nerull. My devotion to Garl, even as meager as it is, has been rewarded. And, most significantly of all, I truly believe I've risen in the esteem of the fair Zara.

After our last foray into Nerull’s temple, we were sorely injured and had spent most of our magical resources. So we retreated into the canyons around the temple and camped for two days. Cord was most sullen and withdrawn, apparently sulking over the loss of his hair, but I care little. I doubt my shears hurt his feelings as much as his misfired arrows hurt mine. Between Mupp, Moonshine, and me, our spells were sufficient to heal everyone’s injuries in one day. We then camped for another day to renew of arcane and divine energies. We returned to the temple shortly after sunrise.

The upper floor of the ruin was unguarded when we returned, but my keen eye and knowledge of magical traps detected some sort of awful warding glyph on the interior door leading to the chamber in which are the stairs. I managed to disable the glyph, changing the divine symbols from malevolent words to a series of etches meaning "cheese." No one need fear a glyph of cheese!

One we entered the stair’s chamber, a skeleton posted there sounded a bell before we could stop it. It then jumped into the stairwell, which, as you may recall, does not have stairs leading all the way down. Instead, after about five feet, the stairs crumble away, leaving a 20-foot drop. Fortunately, this drop destroyed the skeleton. The rope the Nerullites used to ascend and descend had been removed, so I fetched my knotted rope from My Ass. Once it was secure, I climbed down, followed immediately by Zara, Mupp, and Ebon. The rest of the party - Shadra, Moonscape, and Glyth - followed shortly thereafter. Cord stayed at camp to guard our supplies.

The first chamber of the dungeon level is a large, square room with three corridors leading away from it. One corridor dead-ends at a cave-in. This is where we fought the crossbow-wielding skeletons on our last foray. While the party stood guard to my rear, I stealthily explored the next corridor in which we had faced the bear skeleton and the Nerullite fanatic. This corridor also proved to lead nowhere. There were a few smallish rooms that were probably once cells. After the T-junction, one passage of the corridor ended in another cave-in. The other branch led to a medium-sized room containing a crude cot and other unremarkable personal effects. Obviously this was the fanatic’s room.

This left one corridor unexplored. Again I took the lead, and soon found another chamber nearly twice the size of the first. There were two exits from this room. The entry to the first corridor I moved toward was covered by a blanket hung from the lintel. Unfortunately, I didn’t think to check this crude portal for traps, and I blundered right into some sort of electrical glyph. The shock was quite painful and singed the hairs on both of my arms. On the other side of this "electric blanket" was a hallway about 20 or 30 feet long which also ended in a cave-in. There was a table near its terminus.

On the table, I found a stack of papers. Thinking they might be important, I returned to the main party to read them. Fortunately this time my luck and reflexes held good. As I was reading, a sigil from the page came to life and attempted to strike me in the manner of a snake. I was able to dodge its attack, after which the sigil vanished. I left the rest of the papers unread. Later I’ll have to find out what sort of magical defense this sigil was.

My next act of carelessness plunged us into a running battle from which we were all lucky to emerge alive. Rather than watch where I was walking as I approached the blind corner, I was gazing at the lovely Zara, and I blundered right into a gang of skeletons. In fact, there was more than just one gang. The blind corner led to a long corridor bisected by a cross-passage. In addition to the four skeletons into which I had blundered, there was another group of five or six skeletons, all armed with crossbows, backed up by two humans also armed with crossbows! All in all, we were outnumbered at least two to one.

The skeletons wasted no time. I caught two sword points and a crossbow bolt. Severely wounded, I staggered away from the battle, letting Ebon, Moonbeam, and Zara move to the front. As they did battle, I healed myself. Ebon and Zara had a cursed time fighting in such cramped quarters. Ebon kept trying to tumble past the skeletons, but was blocked every time. Zara found herself bearing the brunt of the crossbow volleys. Moonlight called upon the power of Corellon Larethian to turn the undead, but that dandy of a deity wasn’t up to the task.

We were stuck in a bottleneck, unable to advance. Our front three were taking a horrible beating between the sword-wielding skeletons and the crossbows farther down the hall. Fortunately, once I was healed somewhat, I pushed my way as close to the front as possible. Shadra also slipped past the first rank of skeletons, narrowly avoiding a skewering in the process. By this time, Mupp’s inspirational verses had fired our spirits as well.

Shadra manifested psionic fire and thinned out the ranks of crossbow skeletons. I boldly presented the symbol of Garl and blasted a few of the other skeletons out of existence. After a quick quip to Moonpie that he might want to convert to my faith, we all pushed forward. With the bottleneck broken and the skeletons falling like a house of cards in a strong wind, the two humans turned tail and raced down the corridor away from us.

Ebon, he of fleet feet and iron hands, tried to catch them, but their lead was too great. They rushed into another room, slamming the door behind them. We knew better than to give them time to mount a defense, and so we all charged the portal. Mupp kicked the door open. Ebon, Zara, and I rushed into the room, which, as fate would have it, turned out to be the black heart of the temple. We know faced four human crossbowmen, each behind a barricade, six ghouls, many small animal skeletons, and a cleric of Nerull!

As Mupp and Zara engaged the ghouls in combat, I again channeled the holy might of Garl. There was resistance from the desecrated Nerullite altar, but even still all of the small animal skeletons retreated to the far end of the room. Mupp and Zara took some damage from the ghouls’ claws and fangs, but thank Garl they were not paralyzed by the monsters' horrid touch. Then the Nerullite cleric sounded a gong, and from the bisecting passage behind us poured at least eight wolf skeletons!

O, the cursed luck! We were now trapped between two groups of deadly foes. Ebon and Moonrock rushed back down the corridor to cut off the wolf skeletons’ charge. Glyth, our archer extraordinaire, fired at one of the crossbowmen, but could not bypass his cover. The crossbowmen returned fire to better effect, and Zara and Mupp took more damage. Shadra pushed her way into the altar room. Her psionic fire blackened ghoulish flesh, but none of the monsters were destroyed. Then, a little bit, the battle turned in our favor. I pierced a ghoul’s throat and, with a twist and a wrench, nearly severed its ghastly head. Mupp emulated my example and destroyed another ghoul.

Behind us, Ebon and Moonglow fought a desperate battle against the wolf skeletons. Glyth moved closer to the altar room, firing again at the crossbowmen, but still to no avail. I killed another ghoul, proving the deadly skill of my swordarm. Zara was struck by claw and bolt, and I could tell she was weakening rapidly. Mupp and I switched positions, pivoting back to back, and Mupp applied some bardic healing magic to Zara. This is when the Nerullite cleric left cover to enter battle, one of his hands crackling with unholy energy. Zara managed to evade this dangerous touch for the first time.

Behind us, two other Nerullite clerics entered the scene, backing up the wolf skeletons. Ebon and Moonrise, no matter how gallant, could not have won against such odds, and so I retreated from the altar room toward their position. I would later learn that Zara again evaded the cleric’s evil touch, and that Shadra managed to gain mental control over one of the crossbowmen, making an enemy a temporary ally.

For the third time that day, I channeled Garl’s holy might, this time toward the wolf skeletons. Again Garl proved worthy to the task. All but two of the undead monsters retreated from my presence. About this time, the two Nerrulite clerics began casting. Moondoggy leapt over the snapping jaws of one skeletal wolf and slammed his mace into the shoulder of one of the clerics, disrupting his spell. As impressive as this was, Ebon was awe-inspiring. He snapped a kick into the other wolf skeleton’s skull, destroying the monster. Then, with great fluidity of motion, he pulled a javelin from his quiver, hurled it down range, and struck the other cleric a glancing blow across his forehead, disrupting that spell as well! I think I actually yelled, "Huzzah!"

With my timely intervention having turned the tide of battle in the corridor, I raced back to the altar room. The Nerullite with the deadly hand stepped into view as I approached, but this time Zara could not evade his touch. My love screamed in agony and dropped to the floor! By Garl, I swear I certain she was dead, especially when almost immediately thereafter my brother Mupp was paralyzed by the one remaining ghoul! Rage gripped my heart, and I charged the Nerullite, piercing his chainshirt as well as his black heart. Glyth, taking advantage of the opening the the Nerullite’s death caused, rushed behind me in time to stop the flow of Zara’s precious blood. Thank Garl! Who knew our ranger was a field medic as well? I owe him a debt of gratitude that I must soon repay.

Shadra and her charmed crossbowmen were making short work of the other two crossbowmen left standing. I slew the last of the ghouls. Ebon and Moonraker killed the remaining skeletal wolf and the other two Nerullite clerics. The battle drew to a close. We destroyed the undead I had turned at range so as to avoid further injury, and then began the laborious process of looting our fallen enemies. From the leader of the Nerullites we recovered a potion of delay poison, a magical heavy mace, and suit of magical chainmail. What rich spoils for us victors!

We also had three problems. First, what to do with the crossbowmen, whose name we learned was Robert. We could not simply let this miscreant go free. Transporting him back to Gyrax would require three or four days on the trail with an enemy in our midst. We discussed simply killing Robert, but the thought of cold-blooded murder did not sit well with most of us. It was Ebon who suggested a sporting alternative.

Robert had fired upon and injured my beloved Zara. This insult could not go unanswered, and Ebon suggested I challenge Robert to a duel. We armed Robert with leather armor and a rapier, the same as me (although, to be honest, his rapier was human-sized as opposed to my gnome-sized one). Should Robert defeat me, he would go free. Otherwise, he would perish. My skill as a fencer proved far superior to Robert’s. He scored a couple of hits, made some impressive parries, but, once all was said and done, died with his rapier in his hand.

This left us with two problems: What to do with Nerull’s altar, and what to do with the temple complex itself? We moved to the first of the dungeon level’s chambers, thinking it would be easiest to defend should enemies arrive, and made our camp there. While on guard duty, I stealthily took a length of twine and measured the circumference of Zara’s ring finger. The next day, we healed each other as best as we could, and then made a more thorough search of the temple.

Behind the altar, we found a stash of monies and several documents. We also found a half dozen carrier pigeons. The documents were the lead Nerullite’s journal. In it, he wrote that he had sent a request for aid after our first assault to someone called Thorak, but that Thorak responded no help would be forthcoming. This Thorak must be relatively close to the area, for we camped only two days after our initial foray into the temple. How far could a carrier pigeon fly and return in those two days? This is a question we must answer. The Nerullite’s journal also chronicled their unsuccessful attempts to locate the tomb of High Priest Victor, which handily explained the excavations and many digging tools.

Mupp has a wide but not terribly deep knowledge of many forgotten matters, and he recalled that there was a Nerullite High Priest Victor who lived some five centuries ago before he was imprisoned somewhere by the "forces of good." Why the forces of good didn’t simply kill Victor is a mystery, but not one we felt like solving. Instead, we began preparations to collapse the corridors in the dungeon level and torch the temple aboveground. If Victor is imprisoned at that site, who are we to try to free him?

Moonbeam decided to consecrate the altar and then destroy it. When he whacked it with the magical heavy mace we had found, some sort of protective enchantment summoned a horrible demon! The hellspawn was armed with a fearsome glaive, had a beard of spikes, and was covered with wicked barbs. As Moonbeam and Ebon rushed to do battle with it, it did its level best to kill our elfish cleric. I cast magic weapon and protection from evil on Ebon. Zara too entered the fray, and I followed shortly thereafter. By Garl! What a fearsome foe! It nearly killed Moonface and Ebon before Zara dispatched it with a most skillful rapier thrust up through its lower jaw and soft palate into its seething brain. We left the altar alone after this. Our plan to collapse the dungeon level succeeded. The aboveground structure burned mightily and collapsed, further sealing what is supposedly Victor of Nerull’s prison. After this, we returned to Gyrax with our wagon loaded with the spoils of our conquest.

In town, I purchased a matched set of platinum rings, and presented one to Zara. I also gifted her with a carved cedar symbol of her patron deity, filigreed with platinum. I could tell she was greatly pleased with both gifts, although she did her best to hide her pleasure, as is only fitting. Zara is a priceless prize, and I cannot win her so easily.

I am uncertain about our next course of action. Florin’s brother still languishes in captivity. We should make an effort to free him. But the question of the Nerullites’ allies also nags at me. If we can devise some way to track the carrier pigeons after releasing them, we could ferret out more forces of evil. Should word of our example spread, perhaps even the lax rulers of Gyrax may decide to take the offensive against the growing threat from the Pomarj.


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## Mark Chance (Jan 12, 2005)

*The Morality of My Actions*

I’m beginning to question the morality of my actions. I don’t mean I’m feeling a bit guilty like when I use a bit of sleight of hand to steal a pastry or an apple in the market. I mean I’m beginning to seriously wonder what the point is. Allow me to explain, my dear diary.

We’re back in the Pomarj. Deeper than we’ve ever been before, still dancing to the tune of the incompetents running Ulek. Remember those carrier pigeons we took from the Nerullite temple? Well, we spent some time in Gyrax while Glyth trained the birds to stop and rest every six or so miles. This way, Glyth could release a bird, it would fly toward its destination, but we could then catch up to it and release it again. Tracking the birds this way is slow going, that’s for sure, but it seems to be working well enough. Shadra helped Glyth do something called “triangularating.” According to Shadra, this is mathematical way to locate a destination. I’ll take her word for it.

Anyway, our trip was remarkably uneventful until we encountered the mixed force of kobolds, orcs, humans, and ogres. The battle was fierce. As usual, I fought like a lion, especially in defense of my beloved Zara. I’ve spent so much ink on the details of battles I’m loathe to do so again. Suffice it to say we won. Our enemy either died or fled, except for three we captured.

The first and most dangerous of the three was an orcish cleric of Hextor. This deity, if you do not know, is utterly reprehensible. His faithful delight in murder and tyranny. Shadra, who is a psion, felt that this creature could serve our interests if it submitted to mental domination. What utter foolishness! Would you trust a fox in the henhouse even if the fox had been collared? Of course not. But Shadra, otherwise an intelligent woman, apparently saw no harm in taking into our ranks a mad beast.

The Hextorite, in no uncertain terms, made it clear that it preferred death to service. Shadra, Glyth, and Ebon were only too happy to oblige it. According to these three, slaying the Hextorite would not be murder, but would be a just execution. I could see some sense to these arguments. After all, if the Hextorite had fallen in battle, would it not be just as dead? And, certainly, a quick execution is more merciful than abandoning it, bound and gagged, in the Pomarj’s wilds. Likewise, letting it loose could very well come back to haunt us, for such a monster would have bloody revenge on its mind.

Cord and Mupp were of a different mind, especially Mupp. Moonrise, Zara, and I were mostly quiet during the argument over the Hextorite’s fate. Cord and Mupp objected to the proposed execution. Killing in self-defense or in order to accomplish a military objective is an acceptable use of force. Slaying a defenseless foe, however, is not. When we captured the Hextorite, his welfare became our responsibility. If we are not willing to shoulder that responsibility, the Hextorite must be freed. If he later seeks revenge against us, we would defend ourselves. If he later commits some other evil, that is his burden for which he will be judged in the next life if not this one.

The Precepts of Garl say, “A gnome may not commit evil so that good results.” It is perhaps my shame that Mupp takes this precept more to heart than I do. To be honest, the evil that I do seldom even has any sort of noble goal. I don’t steal to feed the poor, for example. I steal to put coin in my purse. But I digress. The reason behind this precept is sound. The evils that I commit, no matter for what ends, stain my soul and put me under the judgement of Garl. It is not acceptable to vex Garl in this manner.

Then there is also this: Shadra offered the Hextorite this choice: Either die or else be a slave. And a slave to what end? To serve in battle unto death. This is a choice? No! Beneath Shadra’s appearance of a matronly elder beats a ruthless heart. Her offer to the Hextorite was barely distinguishable from the doctrine of Hextor himself: serve unto death or else die now.

The argument became quite heated, and the more Mupp (and to a lesser extent Cord) defended their position, the more insulting and far-fetched became the arguments advanced largely by Shadra. Then, in the midst of all of this bickering, Zara calmly stepped forward and slit the Hextorite’s throat! I was too shocked to react. The orcish cleric bled out rapidly.

Shadra then subjected another orc and a wicked human to mental domination. Is this not what the Nerullites were doing to the mountain tribes? Plus, two foxes were let into our henhouse. Mooncrater objected, especially to the orc’s presence. Moonglum’s deity, Corellon Larethian, does not tolerate orcs lightly. I also expressed concern about these enemies in our midst, but the others, especially Glyth, are too ready to dismiss my advice as worthless. Have I played the fool too much? Apparently so. But I digress again. At this point, Mupp’s sensibilities had suffered enough. He handed me a few documents and then took his leave of our party.

By Garl! What choice have I made? I have stayed with this band of adventurers rather than stay by my brother’s side. We have never been apart for more than a day or so our entire lives. Is Zara a prize worth this price? How much longer can I associate with these mercenaries and not risk my own immortal soul? I firmly believe our cause is just, but increasingly it seems as if our methods are virtually indistinguishable from those of our enemies. Certainly we kill only those guilty of heinous crimes. Certainly Shadra made slaves of wicked creatures. There is that difference.

But: “A gnome may not commit evil so that good results.”

The end of my guard shift approaches, and I am tired. I will later tell of the harpies, of the assault on the second Nerullite temple, and of how my sound advice was ignored to the detriment of the party. How sad for us that it seems as if this fool is the voice of wisdom.


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## Mark Chance (Jan 13, 2005)

*Plans Fail...Twice*

You meet the strangest people traveling through the wilds of the Pomarj. Case in point: We met an elf wizard named Dimas the Librarian (or something to that effect, as my elven is still not that good). Dimas’s very unlikely story is that he was deep in the Pomarj - alone, mind you - researching rare tree mosses. As I said: You meet the strangest people.

But I get ahead of my story. Two days after my brother Mupp left the group, with a mentally dominated orc (called “that orc” most of the time) and human fighter (named Frank) under Shadra’s control, we were attacked by a harpy. Or, more specifically, that orc was attacked and killed by a harpy. The monster seemed content to with that one kill. Apparently it was merely out hunting for dinner. Glyth scouted the area and reported that there were several harpy nests in the vicinity. We elected to leave these monsters alone. A wise choice, I note, given we no longer have a bard in our midst who could counter their charming song.

We continued following the carrier pigeons for a few more days. We then met the very strange Dimas. Two days after that meeting, we entered the swamp.

I intensely dislike swamps for several reasons. One: I am a gnome, and water that is a mere inconvenience for a human tends to rise to my chest, making it quite difficult to walk. Two: Swamps mean stinky muck sticking to my clothes and boots. Three: The insects and leeches are horrible. Nearly everything that lives in a swamp bites, often quite painfully, and most of these biters also suck blood. This particular swamp added number four to my list of reasons to intensely dislike swamps: Disgusting yellow oozes.

A disgusting yellow ooze burst from the murky water right in my path, nearly pulling me under entirely. Fortunately, I managed to lunge backward just enough to avoid its tentacle. Realizing that my gnomish rapier, no matter how well crafted, would likely be useless against a creature with the consistency of thick porridge, I retreated from the fight as quickly as possible. Zara proved my suspicions about rapiers were correct. Hers was completely ineffective. Moonpie’s longsword was not only ineffective, it also caused there to be two oozes where before there was only one. I yelled something to the effect of: “Use blunt weapons!”

My advice was ignored until there were six oozes instead of just the one. By this time, my companions had realized my advice was sound. Ebon used his quarterstaff to good effect. Zara and Moonbeam also carry maces. Zara’s is even magical. Have I mentioned that we found a magical mace? I forget. Shadra’s psionic energy also inflicted notable damage against the oozes. We destroyed the creatures with only minimal injuries.

Later this same day, we found the second temple of Nerull. Two guards, both human and appearing very bored, stood watch outside the temple, behind a stone wall about my height. The temple itself stands on a hillock rising out of the swamp. Glyth, Ebon, and I scouted the perimeter. The northern face of the second story was pierced by several half-door-sized openings. When we got back to the main party, we released one of the pigeons. Sure enough, it flew to the second story through one of those openings.

A strategy session followed. We had to get into the temple. There was only one door, which was behind the two guards. No windows on the first floor. No visible guards anywhere else. The door itself looked rather stout. Our archers - Glyth and Cord - expressed great confidence that they could instantly slay both guards at a range. I sensibly pointed out that if they missed their marks, the guards would have sufficient time to raise an alarm, which would then make it more difficult for us to enter the temple. I sensibly pointed out that stealth was a better option, and that we should at least get a few of the sneakier people, myself included, around to the southern side of the temple where we could more easily flank the guards and prevent them from reaching the door should the archers fail. Of course, my advice was ignored.

And so Glyth and Cord let fly their arrows. Cord nicked one guard and hit the wall. Glyth put a shaft into the other guard’s shoulder and hit the wall. Neither guard died instantly. Both guards screamed loud enough to wake the dead, which at a temple of Nerull is seldom ever just a figure of speech. The guards, after screaming, raced for the door. Of course, no one was in a flanking position to stop their retreat. The first guard yanked the door open before being killed by Dimas’s magic missiles. The second made it through the door just before being struck between the shoulder blades by a crossbow bolt, I believe fired by Ebon. The door slammed shut. Our foes were alerted.

Another strategy session followed. I again pointed out that stealth was our best option. Shadra opined that we should wait a few hours at least. Since temples of Nerull often house clerics of Nerull, who have an annoying tendency to cast defensive spells on themselves and their allies, Shadra reasoned that a noticeable delay would wear out the durations of any such magics. If the Nerullites abandoned the temple to hunt us, at least we would be fighting on open ground. A plan was formed. Ebon and I would sneak around to the rear of the temple and get as close as possible. This way, if the enemy did leave, we could catch them from behind. Also, there might have been a concealed exit, and our position to the rear would make such egress visible when used. The rest of the group would keep watch at the front. We would wait, patiently wait.

Shortly after Ebon and I made it to our positions, rather than release a carrier pigeon, the Nerullites sent a gargoyle out. Rather than let this creature escape, the fleet-footed Ebon gave chase. I stayed put, as per the plan. About this time, everyone else forgot the plan. Cord moved from cover and shouted to the defenders in the temple that he wished to parley. What followed was an incredibly inane conversation that even included Cord claiming to be a vampire. Perhaps when Mupp and I shaved his head, we nicked his brain?

Shadra joined the parley. Carrier pigeons were released one at a time from the temple. Cord and Glyth took turns shooting them down. Then, Glyth, Cord, Dimas, Zara, and Mooncrater completely broke cover and walked right up the door of the temple! In more or less clear earshot of those inside, they discussed soaking the door with lantern oil, igniting the door from a distance with a flaming arrow or some such thing, et cetera. Now remember these points: Ebon was gone after the gargoyle. The plan was to wait. There had been absolutely no hint that we would stroll brazenly up to the front door and set it on fire. And I’m supposed to be the fool.

After the lantern oil was spread, but before the door could be lit or the group could retreat to safety, the temple’s entry swung inward and an 18-foot-long undead crocodile charged out. It scattered, Glyth, Cord, Dimas, Zara, and Moonraker. Its first bite very nearly killed Zara! Of course, since I am still behind the temple at this time, I’m not actually witness to this action. I filled in the details from later camp conversation.

About the same time my comrades at the temple’s front got semi-organized, two more undead crocodiles, neither as large as the first, exited the structure and entered the fray. It was Dimas’s fireball that alerted me to the trouble up front. I put my short legs into gear as fast as I could, hoping without result that more stupidity wouldn’t occur before I got there.

First bit of new stupidity: Cord abandons the fight against the undead crocodiles in favor of scaling the north wall of the temple to enter the second floor. Now, as it eventually played out, this did prove to have some good results, but it did make me think of that nicked brain theory again. Since I am not built for falling from heights, I moved around to the front in time to turn one of the smaller undead reptiles. Then, Zara succumbed to crocodile-inflicted injuries. Moonglow was also sorely wounded by this time, although he managed turn the other smaller undead croc.

As I’ve noted a few times, I am a field medic of some skill as well as a cleric of Garl. Seeing my beloved Zara fall, I rushed in her direction. Second bit of new stupidity: Dimas cast web, catching both me and the giant undead crocodile. Notice the similarity here: Dimas, dumb ass, Dimas, dumb ass. Coincidence? Perhaps.

I am not strong of body, but I am quite nimble. I avoided total entanglement in the web, but was still caught in the midst of its sticky mass. The giant croc, while also entangled, had little problem lunging its way through the strands. So, not only I was I prevented from reaching Zara to administer healing, but I was also left trapped in a magical web face to face with a monster more than capable of chewing me into a pulpy mess.

Fortunately, Moonrock managed to pull Zara away from the web. The healing power of Corellon Larethian revived my love. About this time, the Nerullite cleric in the temple exited under cover of invisibility. Dumbass was able to see him owing to some sort of enchantment earlier cast. Unfortunately, the elven wizard’s warning didn’t stop the evil cleric from moving into the midst of Frank (remember him?), Dimas, Zara, Glyth, Moonchunk, and Shadra before casting some sort of wicked spell. Dark tendrils of evil exploded forth, damaging everyone in the area.

Meanwhile, stuck in the web facing a giant undead predator, I took desperate action. I couldn’t escape from the web faster than the croc. I couldn’t cast a spell with the monster so close. So, I hit with alchemist’s fire. The web and the undead beast burst into flames, and the fire began to spread. The Nerullite cleric hit Zara with some sort of fear spell, and my beloved turned tail and fled. Shadra and Dimas moved away from the cleric, leaving Frank (the mentally-dominated evil fighter), Glyth, and Moonfish in hand-to-hand with the Nerullite (who was visible at this time). Unfortunately, due to some sort of magic, Frank was freed from Shadra’s mental control. Remember how foolish it is to let even a collared fox into the henhouse?

I forgot about Cord. He made it into the second floor and quickly confiscated several pages of correspondence before he was attacked by a second gargoyle. Apparently gargoyles are impervious to normal weapons, and Cord’s weapons are quite normal. Cord managed to grapple the gargoyle out of the second story, crashing to the ground. About this time, Ebon returned. Using something known as a “key strike,” Ebon assisted Cord against the gargoyle. Ebon’s fists and feet proved effective weapons against the gargoyle’s stony hide.

But back to me in the web. The fire ate an expanding circle out of the web. I was burned somewhat badly, but not as badly as the undead croc. I also hit the monster with a vial of holy water, adding more injury to its hateful form. I then managed to slip away from it, and cast hide from undead, vanishing completely from its sight. Deprived of me as a target, the beast turned toward Glyth, but Shadra destroyed it with a hail of psychic fire.

The Nerullite cleric then dropped Moonglow with an inflict wounds spell. The elven cleric screamed abruptly and fell to the ground. Frank was giving Glyth a pounding. Throughout all of this, Cord and Ebon did battle with the gargoyle. So fierce was that fight that Cord would be rendered unconscious by a looping claw. Now free from the web, I moved toward the battle. Glyth turned tail and ran. The Nerullite blinded Shadra with a spell. By this time, Zara was returning to the fight. I was almost had reached the fight as well. Dimas moved to assist Shadra.

The Nerullite and Frank retreated into the temple, shutting and barring the door behind them.

So, to sum up: Moonrise and Cord were unconscious, nearly dead. Zara, Ebon, and Glyth were seriously injured. I had suffered minor injuries. Dimas had used most of his offensive spells. Shadra was blinded. We had killed two guard, one gargoyle, and three undead crocodiles. Frank had overcome Shadra’s control and was once again our enemy.

Had we managed to get into the temple? No. Did the first attempt fail because a generally idiotic plan? Yes. Did the second attempt fail because of generally idiotic behavior? Yes. Was I right about the flaws of the first plan? Yes. Am I, the gnome, the real fool in our merry band of mercenaries? Well, I am still traveling with them.

But enough for now. We do eventually get into the temple, thanks largely to people finally shutting up long enough to listen to the one with actual experience breaking into places in order to steal things.


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## Mark Chance (Mar 10, 2005)

*In media res...*

_Note: I switched to third person for this because this particular summary was waaaay overdue plus it went out as an email for some electronic role-playing in between game sessions._

Crickets and cicadas trill in the dark. Moths flit dangerously close to the warm, orange glow of the crackling campfire. The petrified form of Dairy the Elf casts a long shadow across the plain, distorted slightly by some drying laundry draped over her stony arms.

"Well," says Zerubbabel while hooking a thumb back toward the ruined fort, "that didn't go as well as it could have."

After a series of successes, mostly against the forces of Nerull, Zerubbabel and his comrades were suffering from some ill-luck. It all started in that swamp in the Pomarj when most of the rest of the party lapsed into sheer idiocy while trying to bullrush their way into an evil temple. Zerubbabel shuddered at the memory of Daemas webbing him mere feet away from the giant undead crocodile.

The second assault on the temple went much better, mostly because the party decided to actually listen to the one party member with experience in breaking and entering. Zerubbabel led the "stealth team" consisting of himself, Ebon the monk, Cord the fighter, and Glyth the ranger. The rest of the party - Daemas the wizard, Zara the fighter, Mooncrater the cleric, and Shadra the psion - made up the "door-smashing team." Zerubbabel took the lead in moving up the north face of the temple to the pigeon roosts. After disarming a couple of warding glyphs, the stealth team was in place and ready to move. Once the door-smashing team proved good to their name, Ebon and Glyth led the charge from the upper story. Unfortunately, the Nerullites had retreated to the dungeons. There was nothing and no one to slay on the ground floor.

The descent into the dungeon proved complicated by the narrow corridor and the large size of the party. A cul-de-sac adjoining the hallway proved full of ghouls, but the divine power of Garl - channeled by Zerubbabel - and Correlon the Dainty Deity - channeled by Moonface - put those undead monsters to rout. Shadra and Daemas then destroyed with psionic and arcane energies. Unfortunately, for reasons still not known, during the confusion and noise of the confrontation, Cord retreated from the temple and vanished into the wilderness.

Nevertheless, the party pushed onward, defeating several wights, a few ghasts, a wicked fighter (who had previously been under Shadra's mental domination), and the Nerullite cleric leader of the temple. Zerubbabel himself dispatched the cleric, feinting low with a rapier thrust followed up with a rising jab that pierced through the cleric's throat and up into his brain. After thoroughly searching the temple, the party discovered correspondence outlining several evil schemes, including vague information about spies in Gyrax as well as a possible assassination attempt against a diplomat from Celene.

That very next night, as the party travailed toward civilization, Zara received the first of several mystical messages from other Nerullites. At first, the forces of evil offered to purchase the seized correspondence from the party. Although Zerubbabel was in favor of trying to double-cross the Nerullites, making off with both the pay-off and the documents, the rest of the party felt it more prudent to just keep quiet and get the information to the proper authorities. As the days passed, the party was frequently scryed, always focused on Zara. It was wondered aloud if perhaps Cord had betrayed the group the Nerullites, whether of his own free will or perhaps after being captured and tortured, but no answers about this have been found.

The reward for the documents was sufficient for the party to purchase teleports to Greyhawk City, where Daemas wanted to return in order to hand over a mysterious orb and pedestal taken from the Nerullites. According to Daemas, this orb allows its holder to communicate with Victor, a fallen paladin of Pelor who resides on some lower plane. Why the officials of the Great Library of Greyhawk, with whom Daemas is affiliated, wanted the orb is unknown. One thing of which Zerubbabel is convinced is this: The orb is evil, and the party is better off without it.

For some reason, Daemas wasn't entirely forthcoming about why he wanted the orb. Perhaps this too was a subtle effect of the orb's evilness. In any event, when Daemas revealed that he was turning the orb over to the Library, Ebon, normally silent, became vocal and belligerent. He accused Daemas of trying to rob the party of its hard-won treasure. The monk and the wizard very nearly came to blows over the orb's disposition. This too is surely the result of some sort of malign influence. Is it too much to think that an orb, connected to a lower plane, desired by Nerullites, would exert subtle but destructive influences over those in close proximity to it? And, if so, for how long would those influences last even after the orb had been handed over to the Library?

In any event, the stay in Greyhawk was rather brief and somewhat uneventful. Zara was sequestered in order to prevent the Nerullites from scrying her, but this later proved unnecessary when the Nerullites started scrying on Zerubbabel as well. The party did learn of the possible location for the Nerullites main temple, near the war-torn city of Fax. Due to Zerubbabel's injudicious bragging about how well the party had done in its adventures, the group was also beseiged by would-be adventurers looking for a place in the group. This is how the party met up with Dairy the Elf, who turned out to be a friend of Daemas, as well as acquired the services of Frank Grimshanks, a human fighter of some skill. Zerubbabel's theory about the orb and its lingering, malign influence played out with the introduction of Dairy the Elf. Ebon's largely unjustified suspicion and hostility toward Daemas transferred to Dairy as well. While Dairy was admitted to the party, her reception was less than friendly.

With nothing more to do in Greyhawk City, the party found work aboard a southbound barge heading to Hardby. The river trip was uneventful, even peaceful, except for a few more instances of scrying from the Nerullites, including one magical attack that caused Zara to have horrifying nightmares. Zerubbabel was also subjected to this magical attack, but his will proved too strong. In Hardby, the party reprovisioned, and then caught a ferry heading across the river to the northernmost Wild Coast. It was then a short trip down to Safeton.

Which brought the party to the ruined fort mentioned above.

Locals in Safeton complained of strange lights and noises at night coming from the ruin. The party decided to head there in order to determine what if any threat was afoot. Along the way, they were attacked by orc and troll raiders. While Shadra and Ebon were seriously injured in the ensuing battle, the party managed to defeat these monsters. They arrived at the ruined fort the next day. Since Dairy the Elf bragged of her skills as a scout, she left the party behind and went forward to investigate on her own. This proved to be a mistake.

Several minutes later, Dairy returned at speed after having been attacked and very nearly killed by some sort of strange plant monster. Magical healing was applied, and the party proceeded to the ruins as a group. Slowly, cautiously, they stalked to where the plant monster attacked Dairy, and then engaged the creature in fearsome battle. Frank was seriously injured in the ensuing battle, for the plant creature snatched him up in powerful coils of roots and very nearly squeezed the life out of him. Nevertheless, the plant monster was defeated, and more magical healing applied.

More careful exploration turned out to be not as careful as necessary, for the party later found itself in a terrible battle against two more plant monsters - called "shambling mounds" according to Daemas - as well as a medusa sorcerer! Dairy met the medusa's fell gaze, which explains her current state as statue and clothes-line. Ebon managed to stun the medusa with a deft open hand attack, leaving the monster quite vulnerable to Zerubbabel's rapier. As the medusa fell, Ebon rushed to fight the three shambling mounds that were savaging the rest of the party. By the time the shambling mounds were slain, Moonshine and Zara were very nearly killed (saved only by Zerubbabel's skills as a field medic), and Ebon and Frank were both seriously injured. The party retreated, dragging Dairy along.

Which brings the story back to its starting point around the campfire.

"I cannot shake the feeling that we are doomed," Zerubbabel goes on. "We know that the Nerullites have hired assassins to kill us. When they'll strike is anyone's guess. My brother Mupp has left us, and Garl only knows what has become of him. Cord has vanished, and I believe has betrayed us for one reason or another. Dairy is dead. Glyth has taken leave of us, remaining in Safeton, and who knows if he'll rejoin us. I also believe Nerull's hand moves against us, and that that orb has had some further sort of baleful effect on us. Ebon is talking. Shadra has grown increasingly aloof, almost as if she is sleep-walking sometimes. We've almost been at each other's throats. Worst of all, we've taken to running our merry little band by committee, voting on this and that. Everyone, it seems, is trying to be the leader, and no one the follower, and that is not a good way to do things. Like it or not, our actions against Nerull have earned us some persistent and powerful enemies. We are at war, and wars are not won by committees."

The gnome thief pokes a stick into the fire.

"We need a leader. Someone who has demonstrated a willingness to get dirty hands, to get into the thick of things for others. It also needs to be someone who can be trusted, which obviously rules me out. I also think this rules out both Ebon and Daemas, for I believe they have been most affected by whatever dark powers conspire against us. Frank, while brave, is too new to our group. Shadra is too uninvolved, or so it seems. Dairy is dead, and, it must be said, apparently not as competent as she advertised. Zara, as much as I love her, is too unpredictable, lest we forget the incident with the sickle and the throat. By process of elimination, this leaves us with Marek." The fact that for the first time ever Zerubbabel addresses the elven cleric by his correct name is not unnoticed. "While I'm an unreliable soldier, Marek, I'd follow you as my captain. What say the rest of you?"

As he waits for responses, Zerubbabel tosses pebbles at Dairy, enjoying the sharp sound of rock clicking against petrified elf.


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## Mark Chance (Mar 24, 2005)

*An Ill-Gotten Victory*

Well, my diary, it seems as if the party has finally listened to the voice of reason - that voice belonging, of course, to me. By Garl's good graces, the in-fighting should cease. I remain convinced the bony hand of Nerull moves against us, disturbing the darkest waters of our souls. Still, we have agreed that Merak Moonbrook is to be our field leader. In a couple of hours, we're heading back to the ruin. Both Daemas and Shadra agree that there may be a way to return Dairy - correction: Dari (I really must do a better job with Elven) - to her former, fleshy self.

Some time ago, I bought Zara and me matching platinum rings. I'm certain today they'll finally be used for something other than as a symbol of my love. I have entered the first ranks of the Divine Tricksters of Garl, and have been rewarded with greater divine magic. I can now call upon Garl to help shield Zara from damage, but at the expense of my own bodily health. Should we encounter any undead in the ruin's depths, my divine dance against the dead will undoubtedly also prove beneficial.

I cannot escape the feeling that with my new status as a Divine Trickster also, perhaps ironically, comes a call toward a more responsible course of life. So, today when we again boldly venture toward unknown dangers, I make two resolutions: I'll do everything in my power to help restore Dari to life, and I'll guard Zara's life with my own. May Garl preserve us.

Upon returning to the fort, we were met by a group of kobolds that insisted upon parley. Zara and Moonface went forward, were gone some few minutes, and then returned shortly before a small, yapping dog ran out of the fort past us. According to the kobolds, they had been hired by the medusa and her "husband" to guard the fort. They wanted to establish "rules of engagement" for the oncoming confrontation. This all seemed very silly since we're certainly not about to intimidated by kobolds. Also, according to the kobolds, the medusa's "husband" had two bodyguards. Given that the kobolds requested "no fire," it seems as if these guards might be trolls.

Instead of negotiating, we just charged the fort. Merak made it into the gatehouse before a lightning bolt from the heavens struck Shadra, lighting her ancient form up. This made me think that being invisible would be a really good idea, and so I cast invisibility on myself while the most of the rest of the group advanced. Merak rushed around the keep's eastern wall. An area of darkness engulfed the gatehouse, swallowing Moonfish and Zara. Daemas and Grimshanks moved into the darkness about the same time a troll was seen rushing along the top of the wall toward the gatehouse. Daemas cast some sort of daylight spell that disrupted the darkness.

Moonpie and Zara were swarmed by monstrous centipedes, and Zara was bitten several times, suffering spasms from the venom. Another lightning bolt from the heavens dropped Shadra, but fortunately she was close to me. Zara retreated deeper into the ruin away from the centipedes. Another darkness spell hit the area about this same time. Moonshine followed Zara. I learned later that Zara and Moonshine quickly found themselves surrounded by an orc barbarian halberdier, an orc monk (!), and a kobold rogue.

While the fight raged in the fort, I cast invisibility and then a curative spell on Shadra, bringing her back to consciousness. We moved away from our position just in case another lightning bolt from the heavens dropped toward us. Shadra moved away invisibly. Inside the ruin, Merak was dropped by a spectral hand from some unseen caster. Fortunately, Grimshanks leapt into the combat about this time so that Zara would not be facing all three foes alone. On the southern wall of the ruin, Ebon moved up to engage the kobold guards there. He caught one with a leaping, spinning heel kick to the head that sent the kobold flying into the courtyard below.

Under cover of invisibility, I rushed toward the ruin. Grimshanks and Zara were doing their best against the kobold rogue, orc monk, and the orc barbarian, plus the recently arrived centipede swarm. Daemas levitated up to be able to see the ruin's defenders on the wall. Daemas cleared several of the defenders with a fireball, but the troll was only injured and the cleric up there was unharmed by the blast. Frank, who had been affected by a ray of exhaustion from the kobold sorcerer on the wall not too far from Ebon, still managed to lay into the orc halberdier for an effective sword thrust. Speaking of Ebon, he killed another kobold defender and then charged the sorcerer and its two guards.

On the other part of the wall near the cleric, Shadra had managed to move into position and then killed the cleric with a psionc power. Another lightning bolt from the heavens came down, this time hitting Daemas who was still levitating near the northern wall. On the other wall, Ebon snatched a shortsword from one of the guards using his sais. The sorcerer actually took to the air and went flying toward Shadra. The centipede swarm rushed toward Moonfish shortly after I moved through the raging combat to get to our downed leader. Unfortunately, Zara caught an attack from both the kobold rogue and the halberdier, and my love fell to the bloody dirt. I channeled as much healing energy as I could into Moonray and then dragged him away from the centipedes. I then moved to Zara and bound her wounds. A quick search of her person didn't turn up any healing potions, but I did find four gems, which would later prove beneficial.

The flying sorcerer hit Shadra with a strength-sapping ray. Meanwhile, the halberdier, rogue, and monk went after our most seriously injured people. The monk rendered Moonphase unconscious again. The halberdier tried to split Zara's skull, but Garl intervened and Zara was missed. Another lightning bolt his Daemas. I went after the halberdier, stabbing him viciously, but not injuring him enough to prevent him from slaying Zara! The rogue dropped its pick, whipped alchemist's fire, and splashed it all over Moonray's unconscious form!

The orc monk charged at me, but I ducked its unarmed attack. The halberdier backed up and laid his weapon across by shoulder. Grimshanks moved to engage the halberdier again, but missed. As I tumbled in toward the halberdier, he struck me again. By this time, I was seriously injured, but I would avenge my beloved Zara. The halberdier caught my rapier again, this time in the meat of the thigh. Almost immediately after, a flame strike came roaring down and hit Daemas, who had flown himself and Shadra into the courtyard. As we discovered at this point in time, the little yapping dog was actually a form-changed spellcaster!

I slid my blade into another part the halberdier and marveled at the amount of punishment he could take. Daemas sent magic missiles into the evil "dog." The wicked canine in turn caused hail to fall brutally upon Shandra and Daemas. Ebon killed the monk with a mighty chop and then attempted to disarm the kobold rogue, but failed in the latter attack. Shadra destroyed the halberdier with a blast of cold energy.  The kobold rogue raced up the nearby stairs into the tower. Grimshanks and Ebon gave chase. I again moved to save Mooncrater, reviving him with another cure spell. At this point in time, things got even worse.

Zara was dead. Shadra unconscious. Moonface and Daemas seriously injured. I used disguise self to appears as a kobold hoping to avoid being targeted by the spell-casting dog. A swarm of bats appeared, nipping and tearing at Moonface and Shadra. Grimshanks came back to the courtyard. Ebon moved to try to get to the dog, but it was capable of flying, and evaded Ebon's grapple. The dog subjected Moonfish and Shadra to chill metal, which would ultimately kill Shadra!

We finished our second foray into the temple with two new dead. We recovered a few magic items, including a magical rapier and suit of magical leather armor from the kobold rogue. These items are now in my possession. Limping and beaten, we slunk back to Safeton. Intense negotiation with the local priest of Ulwaa (if I'm spelling that correctly) led to one break enchantment for Dari and two raise deads for Zara and Shadra. We were short on funds for Zara, so I hocked three of her gems to make up the difference and pocketed the remaining gold from that transaction. I'll have to buy Zara something nice with that money.

All in all, the return to the ruins was very nearly pointless. We suffered heavy losses, even if divine magic was able to make good on those losses later. For a time, I was very nearly convinced I'd have to abandon the others in the ruin in order to save my own skin. Perhaps I'm not cut out to be a hero.


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## Mark Chance (Apr 25, 2005)

*Facing Camazotz*

A great deal has happened since my last entry, but, unfortunately, I was uninvolved in all of it! My new status as a divine trickster of Garl laid a demand on my time and activity, and so I entered into a solitary retreat while the rest of my companions were left to their own devices. All that I write about now I have learned from them.

First off, Daemas and Dari - the latter no longer petrified - have left us, returning to Greyhawk City, perhaps once again on some mysterious library business. Who knew librarians led lives of such intrigue and adventure? Also, our ranger Glyth has simply disappeared. We've not seen him since arriving in Safeton. The rest of the party was residing at the Surly Fop, a not-too-upscale inn on Safeton's south side. As a lad in the Sphincter, I'd often heard tales about adventurers recruited for some special mission after being summoned a local noble's castle while the adventurers were dining in an inn, but in all of the months I've been on the road, I've never seen any such thing occur.

Well, apparently the stories have some truth to them. A liveried servant of the Margrave Dryw Callani, the local high-up man, arrived at the Surly Fop with a summons to a banquent. With nothing better to do, and not wanting to give insult to the powers-that-be, the party decided to attend the dinner party. Sir Dryw is not a local. He is an agent of northern powers concerned that the disorder in the Wild Coast will encroach on their territories if left unchecked. Thus, Sir Dryw has set up shop in a ruined keep not too far out of Safeton. There sure seem to be a lot of ruined keeps in the area! Sir Dryw's men are slowly rebuilding the ruin, making in militarily serviceable again. At the same time, his soldiers drill, collect taxes (something not terribly popular with the independent-minded people of the region), and so forth. Also in attendance at the banquent were Dez, a paladin in Sir Dryw's service, the Canon Terjon, local high cleric of Saint Cuthbert, and Graybeard Gimmil, the lord mayor of Weathered Rock, a dwarven mining hamlet located in the coastal cliffs to the east. It seems as if Sir Dryw wants to make a good impression on certain peoples of influence in the region.

Over a pleasant banquent in several courses, the party answered Sir Dryw's questions about how we came to the Wild Coast, about our conflict the trolls, about events in the ruined keep, and so forth. Then, as if scripted by some idea-poor playwright, an alarm sounded and a guard burst into the banquent hall to yell that the keep was under attack!

The fight that followed was fearsome but brief. The keep was indeed under attack by five dire bats. At first, this hardly seemed cause for much alarm, but it quickly became apparent that two of these dire bats were not natural. Once, which landed near the main ingress to Sir Dryw's hall, proved nearly impervious to weapons both mundane and magical. It also evidenced resistance to fire, as became apparent when it was scarcely injured by one of Shadra's psychic flame attacks. Furthermore, the beast regenerated its wounds almost as fast as they were inflicted. Worse still, its mighty fangs inflicted horrible damage. Even our stoutest fighters, Frank and Ebon, were shaken by its attacks. Another of the dire bats likewise proved nearly impervious to even Dez's stoutest blows, but it did not seem particularly immune to Shadra psionic energy attacks nor did it regenerate. How curious!

After only a few furious seconds, two of the normal-seeming dire bats were dead, a third had fled after suffering serious injuries, and the two uncanny dire bats took wing and fled as well. Shortly thereafter, while Dez, Moonbeam, and Terjon administered healing, a soldier reported to Sir Dryw, presenting the Margrave with a scroll found atop one of the towers surrounding the inner bailey. The scroll read something to the effect of:
By midnight the day after tomorrow, deliver one thousand pieces of gold to the Dolmen as tribute or else this attack on your fortress will be but a foretaste of the terrors I shall inflict.​This threatening message was signed: _Camazotz_.

Back in the banquent hall, Sir Dryw explained that he feared some evil creature was mustering strength in the region. Trolls were becoming more organized. A guard escorting tax payments northward was attacked and the monies stolen. Gimmil noted that dire bats along the coast had become more aggressive lately as well. Sir Dryw explained that he'd not pay a single copper in tribute, but that he'd pay twice the amount demanded to the adventurers who could bring this Camazotz fellow to justice. The party agreed to these terms, and Dez was sent with them as well. The party left immediately in the company of Gimmil, heading toward Weathered Rock and the coast were it is known that there are dozens of dire bat caves. Also, the Dolmen, an ancient stone structure, is not far from Weathered Rock. The party figured that if they couldn't find Camazotz's lair among the dire bat caves, then they could ambush him or his agents at the Dolmen.

Moonface placed a piece of cheap elven costume jewelry in the bag with the tribute. Dez the paladin was given the sack, and he took up a visible position on the Dolmen, the party having arrived at that location a couple of hours before the appointed time. The rest of the party hid around the Dolmen, hunkering down in the tall grass. The idea was that Dez would hand over the tribute to who or whatever showed up to collect it. Moonface would then be able to use locate object spells to find the costume jewelry and thus the lair of the extortionists. It was a sensible plan. Unfortunately, Dez turned out to not be so sensible.

Shortly before midnight, five dire bats were seen winging in overhead. With Dez plainly visible atop the Dolmen, the monsters flew farther on, landing in the darkness. A few minutes later, a naked troll followed by three dire bats came lumbering out of the darkness toward the Dolmen. Now remember: Dez is supposed to hand over the tribute so that Moonshine can use locate object to find the extortionists' lair. So what does Dez do as soon as the troll is in sight? Yes, that's right: Dez leaps from the Dolmen and charges the troll, screaming something about how his holy smite shall rout the forces of darkness. Consequently, what should have been a simple exchange turned into a pitched brawl.

Dez, my lovely Zara, Frank, and Ebon moved to engage the troll and the dire bats. Moonhowl and Shadra stayed back near the Dolmen to provide magical and psionic support. The dire bats proved to be little match for the adventurers. The troll, however, was another matter. Shadra quickly discovered that the troll was somehow protected against fire damage. Furthermore, the sudden attack by the group's warriors triggered a remarkable change in the troll. No sooner than it had suffered significant damage, the troll transformed into a horrid dire bat. But not just any dire bat. The troll was the regenerating dire bat that attacked Borderland Keep! Shortly after it transformed, Shadra and Moonhowl were attacked from the rear flank by a spectral hand that landed a touch of idiocy on Shadra. Fortunately, she suffered only a minimal reduction in mental faculties.

The party was now engaged in a fearsome battle against two dire werebats. The troll was truly formidable. Zara's rapier was all but useless against it. The minor wounds she could inflict healed almost instantly. The troll dire werebat's bite was deadly in the extreme. Even our toughest front-line fighters - Frank and Ebon - could hardly withstand three or four such mighty bites. The other dire werebat, which remained in hybrid form, proved to be a spellcaster, probably a wizard. Somehow it was able to cast spells without verbal components, and it harrassed Moonshine and Shadra with the spectral hand until Frank broke off from the troll to destroy that pesky manifestation with a blow from his magical sword. Unfortunately, the dire werebat wizard greatly weakened Frank with a ray of enfeeblement before it closed for melee. While the wizard dire werebat did not regenerate like the troll, it proved even more resistant to injury. For a while, only Moonshine's spiritual weapon was of any real use against it.

While Moonrise and Frank dealt with the wizard, the rest of the party focused on the troll dire werebat. Slowly, bit by bit, the damage inflicted outstripped its regeneration, especially after Shadra brought her psychic lightning to bear. Sensing that the fight was going against them, the wizard dire werebat took wing and fled. The troll also attempted to fly away, but Zara stopped it dead with a clothyard shaft that pierced the back of its skull to emerge from its throat. Eschewing much needed healing, the party immediately gave chase, but couldn't keep up with the flying wizard dire werebat. Even still, they did manage to keep pursuit going long enough to narrow down the search of the coastal caves.

By dawn, the party had located the wizard's lair, but, alas, the monster had moved on. In one of the deeper caves, the party discovered a narrow crevasse through which the wizard dire werebat had somehow escaped. Apparently in its magical arsenal was some sort of size-changing spell. The group recovered some treasure raided from the surrounding area, including that shipment of taxes that Sir Dryw had mentioned.

The party now makes plans to pursue the wizard dire werebat - who, presumably, is Camazotz - leaving behind the surface world to chase it into the depths of the earth. How well this effort goes and if I shall accompany my comrades remain to be seen.


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