== Moonday, Erastus 7, 4708; Sandpoint; night ==

After a brief rest in the shadow mastiff “kennel” where we found the Scribbler’s verse on the Runeforge, we continued to follow the wide crevice to the west.

Rarallo once again assumed the form of a whirlwind and blew the magical fog away, and we followed closely. The crack wound west and north a ways before forking around a natural column and rejoining again at the corner of a small room.

Like all the other rooms in this underground complex, the walls here were covered in Thassilonian ramblings expressing dedication and devotion to the vile Lamashtu.

A door was set in the middle of the north wall, which Rigel proclaimed as unlocked and trap-free. And yet we did not rush to open it, as we had a premonition of some doom that lay beyond. We read through the scribbling on the wall again, while Sabin focused on the aura of magic that permeated these underground chambers, and after a few moments grunted, “Much abjuration.”

And on the north door was another of the Scribbler’s poems:

Each stone the grace of seven lords,
One part of key each ruler hoards;
If offered spells and proper prayer;
Take seven keys and climb the stair.

I opened the door to the north, but fog filled whatever was beyond and so Rarallo moved forward, blowing the fog out, as Sabin and I followed.

And then I understood something important, which heretofore I had not yet realized. This entire underground lair was dedicated to Lamashtu, and the very air (and that dratted fog) we breathed radiated her evil influence. Sabin himself had confirmed this just moments before. Abjuration indeed!

My companions had succumbed to this evil, and I alone was left free from its taint. Worse, they were aware I alone had escaped this corruption, and they were scheming to murder me and each other… or worse.

And to confirm my fears, Sabin pushed past Rarallo, who had assumed his usual form, shoving him to the side. Rarallo then launched a set of Scorching Rays at Sabin, just barely missing him. Obviously evil was at work in the party, and my time to act was limited.

I quickly passed Rarallo and then set a Wall of Stone between the rest of the party and Sabin and I. Of all my team mates, it is with Sabin that I had the closest friendship and I trusted, perhaps foolishly (but then my options were limited), that some remembrance of our former friendship would keep him from acting against me.

He glared menacingly at me and then vanished into the fog ahead.

But I knew he had in fact teleported somehow to the entrance of the complex, where we first encountered the Scribbler. I also knew that Avia and Nolin were still in the room to the south. Earlier in the day, before we came down into this accursed pit, I had cast Status on these three, and so what was intended as a way for me to protect them against harm now served to protect me from them!

I greatly appreciated this foresight that Pharasma had granted me, but I needed to quickly find and destroy the Scribbler, and so I cautiously moved forward through the fog, using my ever burning torch to peer through the murk.

The passageway ended in a massive cave in, and fissures — possibly caused by the recent earthquake that caused the sinkhole to appear — riddled the walls. There was a stone door to the east, but it was magically locked, and I had no way to open it.

But scrawled on the door was another set of staves about the Runeforge:

If magic bright is your desire,
To old runeforge must you retire!
For only there does wizard’s art
Receive its due and proper start.

More riddling about the Runeforge, which may or may not be important for the larger goal. And here despair almost overwhelmed me, for the Scribbler is but an interruption in what was to be our true goal: prevent the rise of the long dead Runelord Karzul (also called Karzoug). How was this to be achieved with my companions all turned to evil?

I was trapped… at least for the day. The next morning I could pray for a number of spells more suited to getting through that door and completing the mission.

But what to do now? I went back to the wall and listened. I could barely hear the others talking in the room beyond, but could not make out what was said. Nolin was still there, but Avia was heading back through the fissure toward the kennels on some unknown errand.

I then heard a thunk against the other side of the stone wall, and then Kane called out to me, followed by Nolin. At first I remained silent, because I did not wish to give away any information about my presence, but then I feared they would break down the wall to get at me.

“You have betrayed me for the last time!”, I yelled, hoping to buy some time. But it was a feeble ploy, for I knew they were aware I had few offensive spells, even if I had any prepared.

I realized that it would only be a short while before they came through, and so I decided to bluff my way out. “Something is wrong with Sabin and Rarallo, I yelled, “and I had to place this wall here to prevent them from killing one another! We should take the wall down now.”

While these words were all true, I could hear how they would sound false to those who had already been turned against me. None the less, I took out my mace, with the thought of battering a hole in the wall, and then took the precaution of casting Protection from Evil upon myself for when I encountered my former companions.

And then all at once I saw that I had been tricked into believing my companions were evil by some sort of enchantment spell. The charm was in fact still in effect, but blocked for as long as my protection spell lasted… which was not very long.

My immediate reaction was, “Oh, crap!”

Upon hearing this, and no doubt noting the different tone of my voice, Kane called in, “What is going on?” And this time I was able to answer him honestly, explain the charm trap we had walked into, inform them that Rarallo and Sabin were also affected, and give them Sabin’s current location. I also passed on the bad news that I had a little more than ten minutes before my protection spell expired and I was once again under the influence of the enchantment.

After a few moments Kane had battered down the wall, using Nolin’s adamantine great sword, which was taller than Kane himself. Nolin did not wish to expose himself to the trap. Apparently both Kane and Avia had managed to see through the charm when they entered the hallway and the trap was sprung.

Rarallo had already been subdued, bound and gagged and lay (still struggling) on the floor. Rigel had also been influenced, and had bolted out, but Trask and Avia had caught and bound her as well, and were on their way back to us.

We quietly discussed our options, with teleporting back to Sandpoint to recover being the most logical next step. I knew Sabin had begun to make his way out of the complex, and so he would not be in danger if we left him alone for now.

But no sooner had we decided this than my Status spell indicated that Sabin was under attack. “Sabin has been hurt!”, I called out, to which Avia yelled back, “Well, come on then, let’s get moving!”

The rest of us, dragging Rarallo, rushed forward where we met up with Avia. Trask had used the Staff of the Wind to clear out the fog from this section of the caverns, so we were able to see one another. I explained how Protection from Evil could give those of us affected by the charm a chance to see through it for a while, at which point in time Avia cast Magic Circle Against Evil.

Immediately Rigel came to herself and said, “Oh, crap!” She was untied and ready to join in the rescue, but Rarallo remained hostile towards us. Kane and Rigel volunteered to drag Rarallo out while the rest of us ran on ahead to assist Sabin.

We arrived in the temple rooms to see Sabin and the Scribbler standing toe to toe exchanging blows. But then the Scribbler just vanished! Avia charged up to Sabin, and as soon as she was within ten feet of him he looked momentarily puzzled before grunting, “Huh!”

We re-gathered and made our way up the stairs and back out through the sinkhole to Sandpoint. I recommended we go to the Temple, where Father Xanthus would no doubt have the resources to dispel the charms affecting us, or break the enchantment if needed.

Mercifully the good Father was able to do so, having used five of the Temple’s scrolls of Dispel Magic in addition to two he had prepared to do so.

Rarallo was the last to be released from the enchantment, and he looked the worst for having been charmed into taking action against us. His eyes — I have seen that haunted look before — told me he would be leaving us, at least for a while. His confidence had been seriously shaken, and he said he did not trust himself to continue on with us, which was sad, but understandable.

Rarallo had not been with us for more than a fortnight, but already he felt like one of us, and I for one will miss his presence.

He did agree to stay on in Sandpoint until we were done with the Scribbler. And he said he would complete the magical items he had already promised to create for several of us.

For Sabin there was some sort of book that Rarallo was already creating.

I had asked him to create something that would require both of our efforts, most of my gold, and eighteen days to craft: a powerful amulet of inspired wisdom.

And so we walked with Rarallo to the Rusty Dragon, where we shared a late dinner and a tankard or two of ale. It was a quiet meal, and our moods somber.

The rest of us then made our way back out into the cold night and proceeded to the sinkhole, where we climbed down and set up camp.

== Toilday, Erastus 8, 4708; Sandpoint, The Scribbler’s Lair; morning ==

The night passed cold and dark, for we lit no fire, and the watches passed slowly, but uneventfully.

We prepared for our descent by casting protective and status spells on the party, and then passed into the ruined complex, and then down the spiral stairs. We stopped before the large double doors bearing a three eyed jackal — symbol of the debased Lamashtu — and decided to explore beyond the doors before heading through the caverns.

The doors were magically locked, but Trask used a staff of Knock and they opened onto a wide hallway with doors leading off either side. The hallway was choked with a cave in some thirty feet in, and so we concentrated on the side doors.

Each of these doors was stone, and also magically locked, but by now Nolin had lost all patience with the area, and used his sword to bash in each door.

To the northwest there was a short hallway blocked by a cave in.

To the northeast was an oval chamber, with the Scribbler’s handiwork scrawled over the walls. The floor was littered with piles of dust and debris, but they were lined on either side of the room, as if something had been pacing back and forth endlessly through the chamber. At the far end was a painted image of a three eyed jackal, and beneath this was another Runeforge poem:

On eastern shores of steaming mirror,
At end of day when dusk is nearer,
Where seven faces silent wait
Encircled guards at runeforge gate.

The southeast door opened onto another oval chamber, but the southern wall had collapsed into the room, blocking the a third of it.

Somewhat disappointed at what we found behind the two large elaborately decorated and magically locked doors, we proceeded back to the small room beyond the kennels.

We noticed that some property of either the fog or just the place itself caused confusion over the direction we would head. There was one such place in the kennel where this was common, plus in the tunnel where it split around a rock intrusion just south of the small room. It did not appear that these anomalies were hiding any secret ways or doors, but we will need to spend more time with these spots later to be sure.

We filed north into the foggy hallway where the enchantment trap had been set the day before, but no one was affected. Whether Magic Circle Against Evil defeated it, or the trap had expired we did not know.

Nolin smashed open the heavy stone door, and he, Sabin and I peered in. A bloody body lay crumpled against the north wall: it was dressed in a uniform of the Sandpoint Guard, and glowed with an aura of necromancy. A small desk was against the far wall, upon which were set vials of various colored liquids, and a magical magnificent peacock plume quill. The walls were covered with glowing script, and Nolin had just entered when Avia, who was our rear guard, called out, “There is an evil presence back here just outside the room.”

Sabin used his Dimensional Door trick, and he, Nolin and I found ourselves back at the southern end of the room, while the rest of the team scrambled to turn around and engage our enemy.

Of course it was the Scribbler, but he was hidden in the fog. I cast Prayer as Nolin stepped over to the doorway and started slashing at him. I tried to cast a Dimensional Anchor on him, because the fiend had a habit of vanishing just when we were getting the upper hand against him, but the spell fizzled.

I was hit by a thrown dagger for my efforts, while Sabin and Nolin were slashed by the Scribbler’s wicked looking falchion. When it struck Nolin it sprang to life and began to chew on him, weakening him.

Sabin stepped into the fog and hacked at the Scribbler, while Trask erected a Wall of Force behind him, cutting off his escape by normal means. By this time Avia had arrived and added to the physical punishment being dealt.

Trask placed a small sphere of fire directly on top of our foe, and while it did not appear to hurt it, it burned away enough of the fog and illuminated him such that we could all clearly see it!

I scrambled over to Nolin and quickly cast another Dimensional Anchor spell on the Scribbler, who was now covered by a sticky, liquid shimmering green glow. Success!

Kane had arrived by now and we both turned our attention to healing our fighters. Nolin, alarmed by the evil chewing effects of the falchion, hit it hard with his great sword, shattering it.

To the north we could hear the growling of shadow mastiffs which the Scribbler must have summoned to help, but they were blocked by the two Magic Circle spells Kane and I had cast, and could only bark in frustration as their master was hacked at mercilessly.

Suddenly the Scribbler called out, “Lamashtu, save me!”, as Avia delivered the killing blow.

We severed its head and saw that it carried a bag of diamond dust, as well as a magical cloak and armor, plus a dagger. But we did not yet have time to properly identify it, as there were still monsters trying to get at us from the northern corridor.

Nolin stepped up and one by one finished off the two dog creatures.

Kane restored Nolin’s lost health, and I finished healing the last of our wounds.

Now we are looking over the Scribbler’s possessions and deciding what to do next.

The room to the north needs a more thorough examination, and we should search through the entire complex again, looking for secret doors as well as other snippets of poetry the Scribbler may have left for us concerning the Runeforge.

A return trip to the monastic library also seems in order — we had seen a comment on one of Mokmurian’s maps mentioning the Runeforge, but its significance is still a mystery to us.

Also, our horses are still stabled in far off Galduria, and we need to bring them to Sandpoint as well.

== Toilday, Erastus 8, 4708; Sandpoint ==

That Rarallo is leaving us has been weighing on my mind, and has made me reflect upon the past for the first time in a while.

Has it truly been half a year since I met my traveling companions and (now) closest of friends?

But as I look back over these pages, and recall all we have been through together, I find myself asking, has it truly only been half a year?

Gone are the days of traveling with my clan on the trading circuit, hiring myself out to various bands to supplement a meager income. That life is gone, and even should my friends disband, I know now I could never return to that earlier life.

That younger me is gone, and I have grown. We have all grown.

I look now upon my companions, and see each more clearly than when we first met all those crazy and chaotic months ago.

Considering the troubles my people have had with orcs and half orcs, it is a wonder that my first and dearest friend of the troupe is Sabin. Direct to the point of abruptness, but seldom rash, Sabin is surprisingly thoughtful, as evidenced by his competence in both arcane and martial arts. It was Sabin who first approached me in friendship after the loss of cousin Menkat, and introduced me to his associates. And, oddly enough, in group debates it is with Sabin that I find myself most often in agreement.

There is more to my fellow cleric, Kane, than meets the eye. Unwaveringly devoted to Desna in all things, and nearly as devoted to his friends, Kane often acts as the moral compass of the group, but his needle spins rapidly in different directions. His keen eyes, alert ears, and deft hands combined with his knowledge of traps, treasures and secret ways are a great asset, but do make one wonder about his past.

One cannot mention Kane without also thinking of Rigel. Rigel is a bit of an enigma, and while she is without doubt the most skilled artisan with anything involving doors, locks, traps, valuables or things hidden that I have ever met, her motivations for being with the group are less clear. What is clear is her willingness to go headfirst into danger and use her skills in order to ensure our safety.

At first I was certain that Kane and Rigel were a couple, but these days I am not so sure. Sometime in her recent past Rigel was involved with a bard, who had been part of the group, but something unpleasant happened with that relationship, and the bard is gone (although occasionally alluded to with various derisive comments). However, it is obvious to anyone who observes them together, Kane and Rigel are as thick as thieves.

Former member of the guard at Magnimar, Nolin is unexpectedly intelligent, and boasts a wide range of knowledge — anything from animal training to engineering. But make no mistake, Nolin is a master at arms, and is one of the first to charge in and confront any threat to the group, protecting the rest of us who are not so capable. Besides his loyalty to the team, one of Nolin’s greatest strengths is his ability (and seemingly passion) for planning, and our successes are often a result of having spent many hours beforehand thinking through our actions.

Enthusiastic to a fault (sometimes literally), Trask is the youngest member of the party. Outgoing and boisterous, he appears to have an unnatural affinity with fire in general, and red dragons in particular. Fortunately his magical abilities extend well beyond things that explode, and he is the default operator for our magical devices. He and I are the only members of our party that regularly (and religiously) keep up to date journals, and even if he were not so affable, I suspect this alone would make us friends.

I have worked with a number of paladins over the years — and have heard quite a few unfavorable limericks about them: most variations on the infamous “There was a young paladin from Korvosa”, but I digress — and Avia is like none I have ever met. The fact that she has worked so well with this group of disparate personalities proves she is far more tolerant and wise than is usual for her line of work. A follower of Sarenrea, Avia’s past is a mystery even to herself. She seldom speaks of it, but I wonder if part of her yearns to know from whence she came. For now the present seems more than enough for her, which I find is true for me as well. One thing she does have in common with other paladins is her ability to inflict damage upon our foes, but even in this she exceeds the norm.

Despite (or perhaps because of) our differences in background, outlook, and social standings we all work incredibly well together. Arguments are rare, but never escalate beyond a willingness to simply agree to disagree. But far more often than not we work in relative harmony, and I believe our history and growing reputation more than speak to how effective we are as a team.

And greatly blessed am I to be a part of it.