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

With the Scribbler dead we were able to explore and search the underground chambers more thoroughly, and without fear of hostile interruption. We took possession of the useful items the Scribbler had been wearing or carrying and returned to the doorway of the quill room, but not before Sabin took the head of the Scribbler and repeatedly bashed it against the wall until gore and grey matter were splattered about the place.

bag of diamond dust (750gp)

broken falchion

[1012] Cloak of Alluring Charisma +2 (highly decorative with intricate silvery trim)

[1013] +1 breastplate

[1014] +1 cold iron returning dagger

Trask cast Dispel Magic to remove the magical ward from the quill room, after which Sabin and I entered and carefully put the peacock feather quill into a silk sack I had prepared for it using an unseen servant, and the vials of ink in a bag of holding, along with the body of the deceased Sandpoint guardsman.

The vials of ink were regular ink of various colors, but the quill radiated an almost blinding aura of divination magic, the purpose of which we could not fathom.

[1015] vials of ink: 8 black, 1 violet, 2 blue, 2 red, 1 yellow, 1 green, 1 brown, 1 pink

[1016] quill made of a peacock tail feather and a bone nib. Excellent quality and condition. Radiates overwhelming divination magic

For the rest of the complex, we found nothing new, although the room with the magical well of water fascinated us, and so we decided to return to the surface to inform father Zantus about the Temple to Lamashtu, which needed to be dealt with, and to gather a few items with which to “test the waters” of the mysterious well.

Kane and I approached the good cleric of Desna with what we had found.

“Father Zantus, we have discovered the source of Sandpoint’s most recent affliction: the earthquake uncovered a Temple of Lamashtu, the damned. Apparently it also triggered the appearance of one of her followers, and it was he who was responsible for summoning Shadow Mastiffs, which you all heard howling. We have slain this guardian, and killed all of the damnable hounds and dogs, devils and daemons he summoned; however the temple itself remains largely intact. We would like your aid tomorrow in removing the influence of Lamashtu. We realize that the town of Sandpoint, including the cathedral, has been through extremely difficult times over the past year, and if the cost of our proposed procedures is a burden, then some of us will gladly cover the costs of dealing with the temple.”

Zantus was extremely concerned, and agreed to come the next morning with us to cleanse the temple.

We returned to the well room and tried dropping in various items, ranging from a copper coin, to a twig of a living plant, to bits of gore and brain from the Scribbler. We even tried to dispel the magic of the well, but nothing we tried affected it in the least.

We have setup camp in the cell next to the pit to ensure nothing crawls out (or in) overnight.

== Wealday, Erastus 9, 4708; Sandpoint, The Rusty Dragon; evening ==

Before Father Zantus and his associates arrived, we returned to the complex and magically removed the runeforge rhyme visible in the temple area. We had decided that it would be best if others did not learn of the runeforge and try to seek it out, endangering themselves, and possibly our eventual quest (as seems likely) to this mythical, magical place.

Father Zantus arrived with his acolytes, and determined that all we really needed to do with the temple was remove the symbols and statuary of Lamashtu.

I used Stone Shape spells to remove most of the three headed jackal symbol that had been engraved in the floor, while Avia and Nolin set to work dismembering and reducing to rubble the statues of Lamashtu that sat in the alcoves.

We then took Father Zantus to the well room, where he scooped up a handful of water and sniffed it suspiciously. He noted how odd it was that the water seemed unusually clear, even with the stuff we had tossed in yesterday still sitting at the bottom.

For some reason Trask then dipped his hand in the water and drank from it! He coughed and sputtered for a moment before vomiting what he had drank (along with everything he had eaten for breakfast) into the well. He said it was the most horrid stuff he had ever tasted, and that he felt ill.

Rather than pursue how many other unusual things Trask might have eaten in his short life with which he was drawing the comparison, we used Detect Evil and noted that the water itself was evil. Unholy Water!

Kane made efficient use of Stone Shape to crack open the well, drain the water, and break the enchantment that refilled the pool with its evil contents.

We returned to the temple chambers to find that Avia and Nolin had moved on from destroying the statues to carving up the double doors that also held the symbol of Lamashtu.

With that work out of the way, Sabin and Kane walked about the rest of the level removing the remaining rhymes about the runeforge.

I had given some thought about what to do about the sink hole that was still blocking two of the major thoroughfares of the town, and asked Mayor Devlin, Sheriff Hemlock, and Father Zantus about it. I told them they could completely fill in the hole with rubble and stone, or Kane and I could use multiple castings of Wall of Stone to dome over the pit, restoring the surface roads to better than original shape over the course of a couple of days.

The town gratefully accepted our offer, which we will begin tomorrow.

And tonight we are back to sleeping in comfortable beds at the inn!

== Starday, Erastus 12, 4708; Sandpoint, The Rusty Dragon; evening ==

We have completed our work in securing the Sandpoint sink hole, and in its place now sits the Square of the Four Watchers. In addition to the stone work we created to seal up the pit, Kane, Avia and I commissioned skilled artists to erect statues of Desna, Sarenrae and Pharasma at three of the corners of the square, looking out protectively over the area. A fourth statue in the shape of a guardsman (using the image of the fallen guard whose body we had recovered from the quill room) was also commissioned to look out from the corner occupied by the town garrison.

Sheriff Hemlock and Father Zantus have ordered a stone wall be constructed beneath the street level, in the garrison cell, blocking off underground access to the ruins, but a vault door will be placed in the wall, in case there is ever a need to revisit this dismal place.

Kane and Sabin spent much of the last few days erasing as many of the writings on the wall left by the Scribbler as possible. They also used a clever combination of stone to mud, combined with create water (I lent a hand here) to remove any trace of the three headed jackal symbol in the floor that still remained.

We have also set up Rarallo in a magic shop of his own here in town. We sold an unused magical item (a highly enchanted short spear), and used the proceeds to purchase a store front, with workshop in the back and living quarters above, along with more than enough supplies and inventory to see him started in his new line of work.

We also forged an agreement whereby he would construct magical items for us at ten percent above his own cost. We would also give him the first chance to purchase any magical items we find in our travels for which we have no need.

All in all it seems like an equitable arrangement, and he has already started work on my Amulet of Inspired Wisdom (having finished Sabin’s book a couple days before).

Tomorrow we leave for the library to find what we can about the runeforge.

== Moonday, Erastus 14, 4708; Monastic Library; evening ==

So how to counter the threat of the ancient runelord Karzoug threatening to rise again to power? Could it be an answer lies in that forgotten place the Scribbler’s insane ramblings alluded to?

But even in this magnificent library, references to the runeforge were sparse and terse. Sabin and I slaved away using the mechanical librarian to retrieve volume upon volume of mouldering texts on esoteric topics. For every reference to the runeforge we found we had to sift through twenty books or scrolls. And often what information we found had already been gleaned from some other tome, or forced us to expand our search to other topics.

We had already learned from our previous study in modern day texts about the runelords that there had been a legendary Thassilonian place of learning for arcane knowledge. “Runeforge,” it was called, but it was lost when the ancient empire fell long ago.

It appeared that even during those ancient times, the location of the runeforge was a jealously guarded secret. The runelords considered it to be a strategic resource to their rule, and those chosen to study at there never returned: assignment to the runeforge was a life long commitment.

There, scholars worked endlessly inventing new spells and magical items the likes of which the world had never before seen. One of the last areas of research commissioned by the runelords for the runeforge was to find a way by which the runelords could escape death itself, and survive the fall of the empire, ready to return again when the time was right.

This sounded promising — anything that described how Karzoug could still be alive after all these millennia might also provide clues on how he could be defeated.

It was surprising to learn that the runelords themselves did not visit the runeforge, at least not after it had been well established. The runelords mistrusted one another, and they themselves put in place wards and protections to prevent any runelord or agent acting directly on a runelord’s behalf from entering runeforge.

But again, where was it?

The closest thing to a location we could find was that it was built on the edge of the Kodar Mountains to the north. This vast chain of peaks stretches across the northern reaches of the continent, and identifying a single peak among the countless pinnacles of the Kodar without additional information was simply not practical.

The Scribbler mentioned the eastern shores of a steaming mirror and a Mount Xin. Looking at modern day maps we quickly identified the Steaming Sea, to the north of Sandpoint, and to the east of that begins the Kodar Range.

I also remembered the notes written on Mokmurian’s map of the Lost Coast Road, identifying the Old Light of Sandpoint as an ancient and terrible weapon called the Hellfire Plume. Mokmurian was looking for evidence of a “traitor” called Xaliasa, with the thought that he might know the whereabouts of a runeforge key.

Xaliasa, as it turned out, was the commander of one of Alaznist’s Hellfire Plumes — the one at Sandpoint. Delving further we found evidence that regular payments had been made from Shalast (Karzoug’s realm) to Xaliasa, which was very odd considering that Xaliasa served Alasnist, Karzoug’s chief rival. We suspect that Xaliasa was accepting bribes from Karzoug, but in the end remained loyal to Alasnist, thus engendering the name “traitor” from Karzoug and his followers.

Then something occurred to me, and quickly I rifled through our bags of holding, pulling out the Scribbler’s dagger and the broken pieces of his falchion. There, carefully engraved in graceful runes on each of the hilts was the name “Xaliasa.”

We had uncovered the true identity of the Scribbler, which at the very least verified that he would have had knowledge about the location of the runeforge, and his cryptic hints over its location should be taken seriously.

Turning back to the ancient maps we scanned for names of the peaks at the eastern end of the Kodar Mountains, and found the location of Mt Xin. Comparing the ancient maps to our modern copies we saw that the same peak was now called Rimeskull.

We needed up to date information on this region in order to make travel plans to go there and find the runeforge.

Fortunately Kane, who has been creating wands all the time Sabin and I were working in the library, was in need of additional materials, and a trip to Sandpoint was quickly arranged for the next day.

In the meantime I searched for anything mentioning peacock feathered quills, but was disappointed to find it mentioned once, describing how associates of Xanderghul (runelord of pride) were known to write with such quills.

I then pulled out the quill (and suffered no ill effects from handling it) I tried writing various phrases in different languages using some of the black ink we found with it, but it simply performed like a normal quill — but an exceptionally well crafted quill.

== Toilday, Erastus 15, 4708; Monastic Library; evening ==

In the morning Sabin and Trask teleported to Magnimar with Nolin and I in tow.

Trask was looking to purchase a Cloak of Resistance, and so he headed off to the market district, while Sabin went in search of arcane supplies. Nolin waved and set off to visit his parents, leaving me to do a some research on my own.

I had heard that the Pathfinder Society was a good place to obtain relatively up to date and detailed descriptions of various geographical areas and sites, and I found the local office with little difficulty.

The area around Rimeskull, while not unknown, was not heavily traveled. The the high elevation and the high latitude combine to make for frigid conditions even during the height of summer. Mountain streams flow into Lake Stormunder at the foot of the Rimeskull, and from there the Steam River flows west into the Steaming Sea.

Near the mouth of the river a small village, Brinewall, protected by its own castle, once served as an outpost to the region, but the entire population of the town and castle all vanished sometime in the mid 4680s. All the houses, offices, merchants, shops, and other businesses were left as if the occupants had just popped out for a moment and would be right back. But right back never came.

There seems to be something tragic about anyplace with “wall” at the end of its name, and like Viperwall to the south, this sounds like a good place for us to investigate… after we’ve dealt with Karzoug.

The only “recent” visitors to the immediate vicinity of Rimeskull were Shoanti traders passing by. But even these reports date back one or two centuries. However, they do include the tale of a white dragon living in the peaks above the lake, which I found to be the most useful piece of information the Pathfinder clerk had to offer.

Troops had been dispatched to the area to deal with the dragon, but they had never returned.

“The dragon treasure was never found, and bound to be to still be there, and unprotected now that the dragon has died.”

I laughed, and asked how he knew the dragon was dead.

“Well, they sent all those soldiers, and that was hundreds of years ago, and even if they didn’t kill him, dragons don’t live forever.”

“Really?” I replied, “You do know that dragons live for thousands of years?”

Apparently he did not, “But still,” he enthused, “nobody has seen the dragon in all that time.”

He seemed not to make the connectiuon that the most recent reports from that area were those that mentioned the dragon all those years ago. Nobody has reported a dragon since, because nobody has visited the place since (and lived to tell about it).

What a silly man.

None the less, I accepted his offer to have copies made of the maps and descriptions they had of the area, and in return I let them copy Olithar’s journal.

He also mentioned another peculiar site far to the north, but more eastward. A place known as the “Mobhad Leigh,” which was a name of ill omen among my people, meaning literally, “The stairway to hell.” It is a huge pit of unknown depth with stone steps that lead down several hundred feet. Many, many years ago the Shoanti tried to use magic to plumb its depths, but the spell casters all dropped dead.

Interesting, but the site does not seem to be of Thassilonian origin (it was not on any of the ancient maps in the library), and we had enough distractions to contend with as it was.

I returned to the Feisty Fox to await my companions. I was surprised to see Kane and Rigel walk into the bar, with Avia and Trask close behind. Kane and Rigel were sniggering, while Trask looked looked sheepishly away, avoiding all eye contact.

I asked what had brought the three of them into town (all of them but Trask had remained behind at the library), but at that Kane and Rigel burst out laughing so hard that they could not speak, and Avia simply rolled her eyes. Trask turned a bright shade of red, but all I could make out from the two rolling on the floor was something about a trip around the world and a red cloak.

I guess you had to have been there.

I did see that Trask was wearing a new cloak (not red), but he seemed less than enthused to talk about it.

Soon after that Nolin and Sabin came in, and we all returned to the library, where I updated them on what I had found out about the Rimeskull area.

== Fireday, Erastus 25, 4708; Monastic Library; evening ==

We have completed our research in the library, and Kane has completed crafting his first set of wands.

One of the more interesting discussions we’ve had while here came about when Kane commented on how there were seven of us, just as there were seven runelords. This led us to wonder which of the original seven virtues each of us thought best represented us… but oddly enough the discussion quickly shifted from the virtues to the sins, and this is what occupied most of the conversation.

Which of the seven sins was most applicable to me? Wrath seemed likely, but deep down within I knew it to be Envy. Envy for those who remain oblivious to the realities of the world, and the never ending toil that the rest of us must undertake to keep it from being covered by darkness. Oh, but to live a simple life!

Yesterday we had all made a brief visit to Sandpoint to make sure all was still well (it was), and so I could pick up my Amulet of Inspired Wisdom from Rarallo. Others ordered additional items to be crafted, and Avia found someone to make armor from Longtooth’s hide.

Back at the library we briefly discussed our plans for tomorrow, when we plan to travel to Rimeskull and scout out the lay of the land.

== Starday, Erastus 26, 4708; Sandpoint; evening ==

I cast Wind Walk on myself and all my companions and we took to the air in the forms of wisps of vapor, and then sped northward. The plan was to keep relatively low to the ground (some fifty feet up) and avoid any obstacles or confrontations. Kane and I both had Status cast upon the entire party so we could keep tabs on where everyone was. We could also see one another, with some difficulty as small wisps of cloud.

It was nearly a four hour trip, but much preferable to having to make our way there by foot, boat, or horseback.

We flew up and over the first ridge of the Kodars to find the Steam River valley below us, and to the right, great Lake Stormunder. Patches of snow lined the river, but snow completely blanketed the ground everywhere else.

And Mount Rimeskull was there to great us, glowing in the morning light. It was unmistakable. A huge head had been carved into the side of the mountain, now ancient and crumbling and truly resembling more of a skull than the head of Emperor Xin that it once depicted. Its mouth was gaping open, which we could see was in fact the entrance to a cave. Out from the mouth a giant stairway led down some 200 feet to within 50 feet of the top of a round plateau.

The plateau was ringed with seven colossal heads each mounted on a squat cylindrical pedestal. Unlike the face on the mountain, and heads were amazingly well preserved, and each towered ten feet high.

We landed and assumed material form near the eastern shore of the lake and walked up to the heads, which all faced inward with gaping mouths open. I discovered that they were magical, but each had its own magic aura, and each face was carved into the image of a particular runelord.

           (d)
 N              (c)
 ^   (e)
 |                (b) --> To stairs and Rimeskull
    (f)
               (a)
         (g)

a. Alasnist (wrath): evocation
b. Xanderghul (vanity): illusion
c. Sorshen (lust): enchantment
d. Balamarius (envy): abjuration
e. Krune (sloth): conjuration
f. Karzoug (greed): transmutation
g. Zutha (gluttony): necromancy

We stared at the statues as I reread the Scribbler’s words about saying the proper prayer and casting the proper spell before each stone runelord to get a key to the runeforge from each.

And then in an instant I knew what we had to do: cast a spell (any spell) of the proper school before each statue.

Trask boldly cast Mage Hand before Karzoug, and there was a loud ringing, as if someone had struck an enormous bell, and a golden key appeared in the mouth of Karzoug, which Trask took.

Working quickly we made our way around the circle, with each statue making its own unique bell like ringing sound as it was activated.

f. Karzoug (greed): transmutation — Trask: Mage Hand
a. Alasnist (wrath): evocation — Takkad: Light
e. Krune (sloth): conjuration — Kane: Light
g. Zutha (gluttony): necromancy — Trask: Disrupt Undead
b. Xanderghul (vanity): illusion — Sabin: Mirror Image
c. Sorshen (lust): enchantment — Kane: Bless
d. Balamarius (envy): abjuration — Takkad: Protection from Evil

Just as I picked up the last key we heard Rigel shriek, “DRAGON!” as she pointed eastward, toward Rimeskull.

Hurtling towards us at a startling speed was an enormous white dragon.

Trask launched a Fireball at it, but it appeared to have far less affect than we had thought (or hoped) it would.

We had clumped together more than was wise near the center of the circle made by the heads, and the dragon made good use of its tactical advantage by breathing an icy cold blast down upon us as it swooped by.

Kane began to heal the party as I cast Prayer, and the rest of the team prepared for combat.

Trask sent another Fireball at the dragon, which fizzled, and Rigel snuck next to one of the heads and pulled out her bow to shoot at it as it flew by.

Only it did not fly by. Rigel’s arrow appeared to pass right through it as it swept up and landed before her, scooping her up in its jaws!

I cast Flamestrike at its tail end, which seemed to have hurt it, and Sabin performed his Dimensional Door trick with Kane, Avia and Nolin, popping up right before the dragon.

All three fighters began to beat on the dragon, but something odd was going on. Avia noted that while her eyes told her the dragon was in one place, her senses tuned to combat suggested it was someplace else.

But even with this knowledge, the fighters were unable to leave a single mark on the beast. But it obviously considered them a serious threat, and so it spit out Rigel, who landed in the snow some ten feet away and crawled behind one of the statues for cover.

I cast Greater Dispel Magic on it, and it was as if the dragon instantly jumped a few feet over — apparently it had been using some sort of spell to make it harder to hit.

Another Dispel Magic later and all of the fighters were having better luck hitting (and hurting) the dragon, and Trask’s Fireballs now seemed to be having their expected results.

The dragon breathed ice on us again, but Kane and I were managing to keep the team near to full health, while at the same time the dragon was now boasting serious wounds, and was bleeding from a myriad of slashes and gouges in its side.

We were pushing our advantage when the beast pulled back a short distance, rumbled some enchantment under its breath, and vanished.

Sabin, who was watching carefully (and speaks Draconic), shouted out, “Dimensional Door!”

We knew he must be within about a thousand feet of us hiding, but where? As one we turned and looked at the gaping mouth of the face of Xin, and the steps leading up to it.

True, we were healthy and still had some significant amount of healing and spells available to us. But we would be entering the dragon’s own den, and we all felt we should be better prepared before undertaking that.

Instead we teleported back to Sandpoint, and plan to discuss tactics over dinner.

Tomorrow we will Teleport back to the plateau, which will free two high level spells for me, and deal with the dragon.

And then we will deal with whatever lies within.

Moonday, Erastus 7. Still.

So we returned to the room we’d come to call “Scribbler’s room” since it was the last room we’d seen him n. This room had more of (we presume) Scribbler’s graffiti but there seemed to be few rooms down here that didn’t bear witness to his literary efforts. There was a door to the north, but Rigel proclaimed it was not trapped nor locked.

And thus it was opened, revealing, of course, yet another fog filled corridor.

It was pretty much fate that decreed Sabin, Takkad, Rigel, and Rallo would enter the corridor before me. Well, maybe not fate for Rallo, because he was going to blow the fog free again. But we sorted out later that much as I had been subject to some sort of fear spell earlier, they now fell victim to a spell of suspicion. Each felt the others had been turned against them.

Rallo reacted with a couple of scorching rays, which missed but were our first clue something was amiss.

Takkad responded by creating a wall of stone to separate him from everyone but Sabin. This was our second, although rather enigmatic, clue.

Sabin responded by doing a dimension door to a different room so that he could escape Takkad and the area in general. Since Rallo had NOT cleared the fog, nobody had any idea he’d done this .. he just disappeared into the fog and then dd’ed out.

And Rigel .. just turned and ran, pushing past me as she did so.

Those of us remaining (Avia, myself, Nolin and Kane) immediately assumed some sort of foul magic, although we weren’t quite sure what kind at first. However, our friends had also made a few utterances that led us to believe they thought we were enemies now. (We didn’t realize until later that they also considered each other enemies too!) I turned to run after Rigel, while Kane, Avia, and Nolin tried to figure out how to neutralize the magic without having our companions hurt us.

Rigel, it turns out, is faster than I am but also was running a little bit randomly, and I was able to corner her. Fearing the worst, I put a mirror image on myself before approaching her and that proved to be a very good idea. “Stop!” I told her. “I need your help to fight the others!” I said with all the charisma and diplomacy I could muster. She viewed me suspiciously for a moment before striking at me with her dagger. She hit one of the images, and started to move away. I attempted to wrestle her to the ground, but was unsuccessful.

Catching Rigel is a bit like catching a cat. You don’t ever catch a cat without injury unless it wants to be caught. I’d guess Rigel was going to swipe at me everytime I cornered her. Sigh. I ran after her.

Meanwhile, Avia had entered the corridor and was apparently unaffected. She successfully wrestled Rallo to the ground. This, of course, just reinforced to him that his former friends were indeed out to get him. Not wanting to spend her time sitting on him, she just tied him up really really well. He sat and struggled.

Takkad, having sealed himself into a corridor, was trying to decide what to do next when he discovered a door to the east. He quickly determined it was locked and could do nothing about it. There was no other way out. He’d created a spacious prison cell.

Kane tried to dispel the compelling magic, and failed.

Takkad decided to break down the wall so he could battle his former comrades. It was pure irony that he then cast protection from evil on himself to aid him in the coming battle. And upon doing so … discovered the compulsion and certainty he’d had moments ago faded. He’d cured himself, and suddenly realized that although his goal was still the same – break down the wall – his motivation was now completely different.

Sabin, it turned out, encountered the Scribbler again. But he curried no special favor with Sabin, so Sabin attacked him. By all accounts, Sabin beat him up pretty good before Scribbler teleported, dimension doored, or went invisible. He wasn’t dead, though, when he left.

I was still playing “catch the prickly kitty” with Rigel. She too had decided she needed to exit and was preparing to leave the area when Avia, Nolin, Kane, Takkad, and Rallo caught up with us. Once she entered the area of effect for protection from evil she too realized she’d, uh, misunderstood.

We managed to submit Sabin to the same sort of protection from evil and suddenly all our party but Rallo was sane again.

I used a gust of wind cast from the staff of spell storing to see if we could find Scribbler, but we could not. Depleted, now, of many of our spells, we decided to return to the surface. We were cognizant of the fact that the paranoid compulsion was held in check by protection from evil but not dispelled so we walked in careful formation.

Upon reaching the surface, we made haste to Father Xanthus who was able to dispel the charms. It took, however, several scrolls of dispel magic, and I wonder if we ought not replace them.

We decided to set up camp in the sinkhole to make it less likely anything might exit it overnight. We are here, after all, to protect the town.

Toilday, Erastus 8

As soon as everyone had sufficient rest to recover their spells, we mustered our group again to go deal with Scribbler. Sure, he’d had a chance to heal too but we were much better informed about what to expect and all of us against him was a battle he’d lose.

We checked first a few of the doors/rooms we had not inspected before, figuring he’d retreated to “his” room to rest and recover. Nolin seemed to enjoy using his “unlock door” spell – that is, his adamantine sword – to clear the way for us. We found some more fog-filled areas, some that the clerics vehemently objected to due to Lamashtu influences in the interior decorating, but no Scribbler.

Finally we reentered our corridor of altered alliances, but under protection of evil this time so it did not affect us. Instead, we ran into noxious fumes that, fortunately, did not harm us (though I believe they were intended to). Nolin “unlocked” the locked door Takkad had found and we found a small room full of graffiti again. As we were puzzling over this, Avia announced there was evil behind us in the fog.

Instantly, Sabin used dimension door to move himself, Nolin, and Takkad next to the evil, which was, of course, Scribbler. He was a bit surprised at finding himself engaged in battle so quickly and it left him no choice but to fight with weapons rather than spells. He did put some hurt on our fighters, and managed to fire off one spell to bring a couple more of the mastiffs to distract us. For my part, I used a wall of force to cut off Scribbler’s physical escape, but everyone was too close to use a fireball without subjecting the group to friendly fire (!).

Nolin got hit by Scribbler’s falchion and found himself weakened by it. Not surprisingly, it had some additional enchantments on it.

Suddenly, in a flurry of holy wrath, Avia pummelled Scribbler into small bits and it was over. Well except for the mastiffs, but Nolin had fun taming the puppies. Nolin had definitely developed an attitude about this area.

Scribbler left some diamond dust, a cloak, and some armor behind. We will evaluate these later. The danger to Sandpoint is, we think, largely dealt with (although the clerics still dislike the remaining influence of Lamashtu that lingers here.)

== 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.

Moonday, Erastus 7th

When I stepped into that room I knew that something was not right.

The battle with the Scribbler and his hounds and demons left me somewhat unnerved. It’s one of the few times that the party was not able to take the advantage, and we fought on the defensive at the mercy of his spells. Though he was no tactical genius, he was resourceful and he was prepared and it was enough to keep us off balance. Most importantly, it was enough to keep him alive. Once again one of our foes was able to vanish into thin air just when the tide was starting to turn.

My frustration with this encounter is why I chose, uncharacteristically, to take up the rear guard as we advanced through the fog. I don’t know why I did not trust my judgement, I just know that I did not. As it turned out this may have been the wisest decision I have made.

Sabin, Takkad, Rigel, and Rararallo all entered the hallway and that is when the confusion began. I still do not know the precise sequence of events, but within seconds spells were fired off and a wall of stone created to block our passage. Before I could move up to see what had happened, Rigel tore through the room and into the fog, running for her life. Running from us! And then Rararallo appeared, showing the same terror, the same wild look of someone who was consumed by paranoia and fear.

It was Kane that figured out that an enchantment was responsible, one that convinced those who entered that the evil Lamashtu had corrupted their friends. It was a subtle, clever suggestion. I am told that one so enchanted cannot be made to act against his or her nature, but twisting our own perceptions of reality would sidestep that limitation. Very clever, and very effective.

But not foolproof. Takkad, fearing the evil that he believed had taken over his friends, did what he would logically do in any such situation: he cast a spell of protection, and a side effect of this spell was to break the enchantment that was influencing him. Through the thin stone wall, which he had created for his own safety, we heard him exclaim a few choice words as the realization of what had happened came over him. Kane took my sword, for I did not trust myself to enter that hallway, and broke down the wall so that we could be reunited.

Takkad’s spell would eventually free Rigel and Sabin, at least temporarily, and so we retreated to the temple in Sandpoint to regroup and permanently dispel the charms that had afflicted us. Rararallo, however, was so shaken by these events that he has lost his nerve for adventuring. It is a shame, for in the short time that we have known him he has been a valuable companion, but I understand his decision. This is a very dangerous thing we are doing. His reaction is, I think, normal (which, disturbingly, suggests that ours is not).

Toilday, Erastus 8th

The Scribbler is dead. As I write this, my companions are searching the room at the end of the hallway and trying to make sense of the magical items and protections that are in place. Every now and then, one or two look my way give me “that look”. At least once I overheard talk about the Scribbler’s damaged falchion and what could be done to repair it. I know that some are upset about the destruction of a valuable magic item—an item that could have been sold for money—but I don’t care. I had long since lost patience with the Scribbler and with this place, and when I found myself face to face with him and feeling the business end of that weapon I deliberately smashed it to pieces. And it felt good.

If they want to try and fix it, fine. But I am not apologizing for my actions.

Moonday, Erastus 7 (cont’d)

Unfortunately, I find myself writing a lot of this portion of the day not from personal experience but from tales of my companions. As luck would have it, I (and several others in the party) suffered the effects of a fear spell or aura of some sort. But I’ll get there soon enough.

First the fireball. A fine fireball it was, too, quite capable of completely snuffing out the life of things smaller than the Scribbler. However, at the instant it exploded there was only him, and it turns out his response to the fireball was to invite in a few close friends, and none of his friends were smaller than he. In fact, several of them were bigger than any one of us. A couple were bigger than any two of us.

Seeming to shrug off the fireball, he chanted and summoned a half dozen dog-like (but dog-like only in shape) creatures. They were very hard to see when they were even close to shadows. But they were certainly susceptible to Avia’s, Sabin’s, and Nolin’s sword strokes.

But then there appeared some larger demons or devils .. I don’t believe anyone ever had a name for them. One of them, which also looked dog-like but bigger, I think Takkad declared to be “barghest”.

I was able to get off a second fireball which was felt by several of our foes. But then life got hard. First of all, gravity reversed. I had the choice of casting fly, or attacking prone from the ceiling (my new floor). Since weapons had been having a tough time damaging these newer things, I thought that lying prone on the floor and firing magic missiles might not be a bad idea. Wham! Hit the barghest but good. I barely had time to smile about that before one of the other big demons gestured, and … a fog descended upon me. I had trouble focusing and it was hard to tell friend from foe. Rigel seemed affected similarly and Nolin … Nolin just stood there with a surprised look on his face. >From his expression he seemed to be trying to clear his head, but it was taking all his effort. He didn’t move. He didn’t swing. He didn’t speak. It was as if he’d gone unconscious but hadn’t yet fallen. (I found out later he’d been hit with Power Word Stun.)

I only vaguely remember the rest of the battle, because there were lucid moments (I remember some magic missiles and even another fireball) but they were interspersed with times when I felt Kane and Nolin were too close and I swung at them (I was wielding no weapon, and really – fully armored Nolin??).

In the meantime, the battle raged on, and eventually Avia, Rallo, and Sabin (with invaluable and timely healing from Kane and Takkad) managed to dispatch the barghest and the two demons. At some point, gravity returned to normal but I don’t recall when. I believe Takkad got the final smite on the last demon. Nolin startled out of his astonishment only to find that he, like I, had only moments of lucidity. He, however, was much more dangerous when he decided you were too close so everybody gave him a wide berth for another minute or two.

When I regained my senses, we were in a room with black stone pillars 40 feet tall. A 3-eyed jackal was carved into the floor, and that was our clue that we were in the foul presence of Lamashtu. Or at least, a cathedral dedicated to Lamashtu. There were alcoves to the north and south, and a stone pulpit partially buried by a collapsed part of the room.

And hundreds of scribblings. The Scribbler had done his work here. My study of the Thasselonian language is beginning to pay off, and I could read several of them. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem to say anything of importance; the ones I looked at were simply graffiti.

Takkad cast True Seeing upon himself, certain there must be more here than meets the eye. That did reveal a secret door which he was able to show to Rigel, but she determined it was magically locked. Our wand of knock was used to open it, but it revealed a short corridor (crack in the rock, really) with nothing in it.

There was fog coming from an exit to the southwest, and Rallo took the form of an air elemental to clear the fog out. This was a very messy (that is, bloody) area and we soon came across more of the shadowy dog creatures.

Unfortunately, they did something this time that I don’t remember them doing before — one of them howled. The howl was so unearthly, so utterly alien that I couldn’t stand it. I had to get away from it .. and so I ran from the room.

Meaning my understanding of what subsequently happened is again reliant upon my companion’s accounts. I apparently was the only one affected by the howls. Since they were difficult to see in shadows, Kane threw down a torch to reduce the number of dark areas. Rallo lightninged three of them, and Sabin and Avia and Nolin began to steadfastly but grimly hack them to pieces.

Fortunately my fear didn’t last nearly as long as my confusion, and I came back in time to find only two of six hounds remaining, and I contributed a flaming sphere to add both light and heat to the equation. It didn’t take long for the remaining pair to be dispatched.

Around us was what looked to be wreckage from the Sandpoint guards. There wasn’t anything in the way of bodies, but armor and weapons we could identify from the guard did lay strewn about. Earlier the Scribbler had called to his allies not to destroy our bodies so that they could be reused .. were any of these dogs previously humans? Previously guards? Never can tell with this foul magic. One thing was clear — there did not seem to be any apparent food for these dogs, so they were eager to attack us. Perhaps these same dogs did attack the guards and consumed them completely. We’ll never know.

The scribbles continue here, but there is one section that is both readable and a little different from the others. It reads:

On frozen mountain Xin awaits
His regal voice the yawning gates
Keys turn twice in sihedron
Occulted runeforge waits within.

A runeforge? That’s supposed to be a pretty powerful artifact, but I don’t think it’s a good thing 🙂

We’re not done here yet. There are doors unopened and a missing Scribbler. May my wits be about me more than they have been, as we advance. One good thing – having run away so much I have many of my spells left 🙁

== Moonday, Erastus 7, 4708; Sandpoint; after noon ==

The Scribbler, which is what our loquacious friend called himself, appeared to have shrugged off Trask’s fireball and began to chant.

Perhaps half a dozen large, dog like creatures appeared around us, with deep black coats that seemed to meld into the shadows cast by our torches. Their teeth, it easy enough to see, were long and razor sharp. They let out a series of unearthly howls and attacked the party.

Rigel found herself down on the floor, beneath one of the slavering beasts, and called out for help. I cast Magic Circle Against Evil, which afforded some measure of defense against the dog fiends. Rarallo launched a volley of magic missiles at one, Nolin seriously crippled another, and Avia eviscerated a third, which vanished with a greasy “pop”.

We looked like we had the dog beasts well in hand when the Scribbler called out, “Now, my fiends, it is time, wait no longer!”

A barghest (a canine looking daemon) appeared between us and the door through which we entered, and two massive devils appeared to the west.

As bad as things looked, the situation was not yet dire. For one, the protection spell I had cast prevented the newly summoned creatures from approaching us, and for another, the dog like creatures were quickly dispatched by our fighters and magic users.

Sabin and Trask began to attack the barghest behind us, with Kane providing healing support, while the rest of us turned our attentions to the pair of disturbingly large devils squatting between us and the Scribbler.

But by now the devils were no longer passive bystanders to the battle. One of them cast a spell (I assume Chaos Hammer), which left Nolin, Trask and Rigel confused and stunned. I frantically tried to think of a spell that would counter the effects, but at the same time the gravity in the entire area where our team was standing reversed.

Avia appeared to have no trouble with this, and she gracefully performed a pirouette, turning head to foot as she slowly fell toward the ceiling.

The rest of us fared more poorly, with the most acrobatic of the group (Rigel and Kane) managing to land on their feet while the everyone else just dropped, landing hard.

Healing was called for, and as soon as we were able both Kane and I sent waves of positive energy about us, healing those injured by the fall.

Sabin continued to hack away at the barghest, which had fallen with us (but did not benefit from our healing efforts), eventually killing it.

Nolin was out of the fight entirely, laying in a heap on the ceiling with a blank look on his face. Likewise Rigel was of no use, and appeared to keep sticking herself with a rapier. Trask appeared to pass through moments of lucid thought, but just as often he appeared to be angry at Rarallo, who had fallen near him and was (at least in Trask’s mind) the cause of his current misfortune. Mercifully Trask’s anger was expressed by fits of slapping feebly at Rarallo, who returned the favor until putting some distance between himself and his ineffectual nemesis.

We had managed to orient ourselves on the ceiling for combat, and even sent a spell or two loose on the devils before us, but lightening appeared to have little affect on these bloated fellows, much to Rarallo’s chagrin, and with the reverse gravity in effect we had to move cautiously if we were to engage them.

Fortunately the devils were not aware that we were in a zone protected from evil, and when one of them tried to teleport among us to engage in melee, it found itself instead shunted off to one side, dumped on its head, and stunned for a round.

Avia and Sabin, who were standing next to it as it appeared, began to viciously hack at it, and black otherworldly blood splashed about the place.

The other devil remained out of reach, eventually dispelling my area of protection from evil, but too late to save its companion.

I cast Airwalk on Avia who marched out of the anti-gravity area toward the remaining devil, while Sabin, who had cast Fly on himself earlier, followed, pulling me with him.

The Scribbler was still somewhere in that direction as well, making cat calls about the fight,

“Now remember, my pet, don’t harm them such that I can’t use their bodies to create more undead minions!”

“While somewhat impressive, this conflict is nothing compared to what was done at Runeforge!”

Runeforge again! I called out for him to explain himself, but he simply tutted, “You had your chance to talk.”

By now Avia, Sabin and I had reached the devil, and the Scribbler fell silent after that, perhaps having read the writing on the wall — figuratively speaking, since having actually written all of the writing on the walls, he was already familiar with his own ranting.

Avia and Sabin began to slice and dice the devil, while Rarallo and Trask, who was no longer confused, launched magic missiles at it, and Rigel peppered it with arrows.

Sensing its imminent demise, the devil cried out to Avia, “Obviously you are a person of great power and prowess. You have but to stay your hand and I will grant you a wish.”

Avia made some sort of derisive snort as I cast Holy Smite, killing the devil.

We now had some time to take in our surroundings, as we looked about for the Scribbler.

This great room had one time been a cathedral to Lamashtu. A great image of a three eyed jackal was carved into the floor, which softly glowed a rusty red light. Six alcoves lined the walls, three on a side, each with its own statue of a jackal headed pregnant woman, with khukris clutched to their chests.

At the western end, a dais, where once an altar stood, was partially buried under the ceiling’s collapse.

By the south western most alcove was an enormous crack that had opened as part of the cataclysmic events that had caused the collapse. A thick fog lingered here, as it did at all of the other entrances and exits to this room.

The entire chamber glowed with an aura of an abjuration effect.

I cast True Seeing, in case the Scribbler was standing invisible nearby, but saw no sight of him. However, I did see a door magically disguised to look just like the wall. After pointing to the exact location of the door, the others were able to see it as well, but Rigel found that it was magically locked.

We used a wand of Knock to unlock the door, and were disappointed to find nothing but a fissure leading to the north, which shortly dead ended.

Rarallo took the form of an air elemental and blew the fog out from the crack to the southwest, as the rest of us followed. The crack lead to a natural tunnel that turned back eastward and opened onto a larger cavern, which was partially separated into three chambers, fashioned like large kennels.

Blood and entrails squished the floor, and as we entered we heard more howling, and soon more of the shadowy dog like creatures appeared around us.

Trask heard the howling and fled back into the cathedral, where we could here him running off with a fading wail. The rest of us stood fast, and Avia began to hack at the monsters as they closed in on her.

I was standing in a small fissure to the south, when a dog appeared out of the shadows and knocked me down. I am not cut out for combat, and so I cast a Protection of Evil spell, effectively blocking any attacks from that direction, and forcing the creatures over to Avia, Nolin and Sabin.

Trask regained his composure and returned to us, and moments later all of the canines had been killed.

More blood and gore lined the floor here, and scattered about were the armor and weapons from the six Sandpoint guardsmen who came down just a few days before.

The kennel walls were covered in writing, which I took the time to read, as I had done in the other chambers. Most of it was of the same sort of ramblings and lunatic rants as before, but in the southern chamber, near another fog filled crack leading west, I found something completely different:

On frozen mountain Xin awaits, His regal voice the yawning gates. Keys turn twice in Sihedron, Occulted Runeforge waits within.

A clue, no doubt, but what does it mean?

Is Xin the name of a mountain? We already know from our reading in the monastic library that Xin-Shalast was a great capital city of the runelords, and that “Xin” was a prefix often associated with Thasselonian sites.

This reminded me of the time when my cousin Menkat and I hired on with a party to find the lost lair of “Tark the Bastard”, a local legend among the people of the foothills of the Kodar Mountains. Tark was a half orc magic user from a generation ago who commanded a squad of potent adventurers that scoured the lands for treasure and magic artifacts. Some claimed he was just a glorified rogue, stealing from whoever proved to be an easy target; while others claimed he brought justice to this corner of the Storval Plateau, freeing the common folk from the tyrannical overlords who controlled the region.

Old Tark and his band were active for many years, and rumor circulated that his hideout was brimming with an amazing amount of treasure. When Tark and his party simply vanished from the region without a trace, people began searching for his loot.

No one was sure about the location of Tark’s stronghold, but a rogue named Pipper had found an old map of the area with a bit of rhyme scribbled on it, which was said to have been written by Tark himself. Pipper put together a squad of various talents, into which Menkat and I had hired in.

The rhyme on the map led us to a small cairn at the head of a valley, buried at the bottom of which was a flat stone tablet with another rhyme. This led us to a small cave on the Karzaron river, where carved into the wall was yet another rhyming riddle, which when solved revelaed the whereabouts of Tark’s hideout.

And so, after weeks of searching and research, and scrabbling about the scrubby and inhospitable lands, fighting off brigands, animals, thirst and hunger, we arrived at our destination. The entrance was located, traps disabled, a band of kobolds defeated, and we finally entered Tark’s long lost lair.

Bones, rusted weapons and armor, and dust were all we found. Almost all. Engraved upon the backrest of a stone throne carved in the native rock, in the same hand that had left the clues that lead us here, was Tark’s final message to any who might find their way here.

A word of advice among the bold,
Who make a living seeking gold.

Or magic, gems or items of wonder,
To horde in secret gathering plunder.

But then one day old age must come,
And all thy minions must keep mum.

To divvy all the precious loot,
Or chivvy them and give the boot.

For treasure split is treasure lost,
And this you may find too steep a cost.

A little arsenic will see it done,
Though arse thyself ye have become.

But now old Tark, his fortune made,
Has gone to Korsovo to get laid.

Menkat and I laughed all the way home. We could afford to. We were simply hired hands who had been paid a flat rate. But Pipper and his friends were in it for shares.

Anyway, the Scribbler’s bit of near nonesense may require a return trip to the monastic library for further research, but for now we still have the Scribbler himself to deal with.

A pair of grand, if not blasphemous, double doors we have left unopened behind, for I feel that our true goal down here lies beyond the fog filled crack before us.

Rarallo is preparing once again to assume an air elemental form and blow the way clear so we may proceed.

== Sunday, Erastus 6, 4708; Magnimar; late night ==

We searched the Black Tower (in the valley of the same name) for secret rooms or passages, but found none.

We lowered Derreldon’s body down into the cold crypt below, still wearing a Sihedron Amulet, and closed the secret trap door. It seemed appropriate that he, being a monk, should be laid to rest in a room purposefully built as a monk’s tomb. We will return as time allows to Hallow the place and add extra protections.

We then teleported to Magnimar and began the slow task of selling off our surplus inventory. Being Sunday, many of the larger main stream businesses were closed (as were all of the banks), and so selling off our more exotic items and exchanging the large amounts of copper and silver for something more portable must wait until tomorrow.

We set up a meeting with the Mayor for the following morning, and then each of us set out about our own private business. For most it was time to unwind and rest, and a suitable inn was found and rooms rented.

Nolin left to meet up with his old comrades in the City Guard, and Kane left to visit the Temple of Desna.

I had two things on my mind that gave me no peace: how to track down citizens with sihedron tattoos so they could be removed, and the where abouts of Xanesha — we had expected to find her lurking in Mokmurian’s lair, but I feared she must be still in Magnimar, working her ill-will against the city and its people.

My first stop was Pharasma’s Temple, which was not difficult to find, being easily the most Gothic structure in the city and situated next to a prominent cemetery (both as usual).

I was able to speak with the head priest, and explained my concerns. She had not seen or heard of any unusual tattoos on anyone, but an acolyte who was working nearby overheard our conversation and volunteered the following story.

“It was maybe a month ago when a woman, who was with child, came in. She was close to giving birth, but was in an unusual amount of pain, which is why she came to us. She had a tattoo where you’d normally never see it. And her child was stillborn, which was a blessing as it was deformed, like it was half animal, half child.”

She had never seen the woman before, but said her manner of dress indicated she was from one of the less affluent districts — probably Shadow.

Xanesha once haunted the Shadow district, and the story reminded me too much of Lamashtu for comfort. I strongly suspected our old nemesis was still operating in town, and that immediate action was called for.

I returned to the inn and rounded up everybody except Kane and Nolin. After hearing what I had found we were all eager to head out and find Xanesha, but first we returned to the temple where I could cast Scrying using their mirror dedicated for this purpose. Unfortunately the attempt failed, and so we’d have to locate Xanesha the hard way.

We set out as the sun was setting: our first stop was the Shadow Clock, that derelict edifice where the party had last faced Xanesha. That conflict had ended with a dead party member and Xanesha flying away.

It was as they had left it several months earlier. Signs of the battle scarred the tower, but it was obvious no one had been there since. Looking out from the top I could see the lights of the inns and public houses glowing beneath the colossal span of the Ironspire. The sounds of people drinking, wenching, and gambling drifted up from below. Gambling. That was where we would find Xanesha or her cohorts.

The nearest such business was seedy, but thronged with people lining the bar and seated at tables, heads close together as they conducted private business. A larger, boisterous crowd was gathered at the far end, crowding around the gambling tables. We made their way over to the action and surreptitiously looked over the players for sihedron tattoos peeping out from clothing.

Fortunately the night was warm and the patrons were dressed accordingly. After a minute or two Rigel discretely pointed to one of the players shooting dice, who’s tattoo occasionally peeked out from beneath his shirt as he leaned over to toss the dice onto the table.

Trask squeezed his way next to the man and looked on in wonder. It took little time for the tattooed man to notice what he took for a young man fresh from the farm on his first trip to the city. He talked Trask into putting up some gold in order to join the game, and began to explain the rules, which appeared to change as rapidly as the sides of the dice.

Meanwhile I sidled up to the bar and, after ordering a drink for which I put down too many coins, asked the barkeep about my friend’s new found playing companion. The barkeep said he was known as the Snake, and if I cared about my friend I would do good to keep on eye on him and his companions. He also mentioned that the Snake had a particularly cruel girlfriend, whom he described as a real piece of work.

This immediately got my attention, and I began to describe the woman for whom we were looking, to which the bartender replied in a low voice, “Do you mean Xanesha?” I confirmed that that was indeed the woman, and I explained how she was fooling innocent people into getting tattoos, which she claimed allowed them special access to certain events and locations, but which really harvested their souls for her dark master, a powerful mage.

At this the man became somewhat nervous, and wondered out loud how someone thus marked could escape this fate. Sabin had joined me by now and offered to use an Erase spell, which was a harmless way to remove the tattoo and break the binding. The barkeep cautiously lifted up his shirt and his tattoo vanished.

I pushed a small pile of coins across the bar and asked him to spread word around the Shadow District about the tattoo, its true deceitful purpose, and how desirable it was to have the thing removed. He grateful took the money and wholeheartedly agreed to spread the word.

While Sabin and I were having our conversation, Trask had bravely managed to lose all of his stake to the Snake and his friends. Rigel, who is an expert at all games of chance, had been watching and seen how the Snake and Friends had cheated, and so she put a sizeable stake of coins on the table and proceeded to clean up, in a friendly sort of way.

Upon seeing that Rigel was a serious “player” he invited her to go to a nicer house, with higher stakes. Rigel agreed as long as her friends, Avia and Trask, could come along, and so the four of them got up to leave.

I cast Status on the foursome as they left, while Sabin grabbed a boy cleaning tables and sent him off to fetch Nolin and Kane. We discretely watched as the Snake led our friends to another building some distance away, where after knocking on the door and speaking a password, they were all let in.

Sabin, Rarallo and I returned to the Clock Tower to await reinforcements.

In the gambling house, Rigel played several games with modest success, while Avia and Trask looked on. A young woman came over to Trask and introduced herself as Isabelle, then asked if he was playing. Trask replied no, and she invited him upstairs to a private party, where everyone wore masks. He said he’d come up and join her once Rigel had finished playing. She winked at him, ran a long fingered hand down his side, and told him not to be too long about it.

Eventually Rigel tired of the game, and the three made their way upstairs to the party. There was a hallway, and a handful of rooms, but no obvious signs of merriment, so they opened a door to a room where a handful of masked figures were standing around.

“What are you doing here?” barked one.

“Isabelle invited me, um, us,” stammered Trask.

Hearing her name, Isabelle appeared, wearing a medusa mask, and led our friends to a storage area where masks and other party essentials were stored. She indicated that they should select something appropriate to wear.

No sooner had the door closed than the eyes of Isabelle’s mask glowed green and rays of putrid green light shot out, striking Avia. But Avia shook off the intended effect, and said, “Your time has come, Xanesha!”

“Bring it on paladin!” spat Xanesha.

And the paladin did.

Xanesha, spitting out blood, cried “Curse this!” and vanished.

Trask, thinking quickly hastened himself, Rigel and Avia, and after briefly searching for a secret exit, they ran out from the room and down to the exit.

But the rest of us had not been idle during this time. Nolin and Kane arrived just as Xanesha had revealed herself to our friends, the shock of which registered with the Status spell, and I called out, “They are in need, we need to run!”

We raced through the streets toward the gambling house, and Rarallo sent a bolt of lightening before us, blasting the door to flinders so it would not impose any delays.

As we approached the doorway, Avia came running out shouting, “It was Xanesha, but she teleported away.”

Trask and Rigel joined her, and Trask, looking at the door (or where the door used to be) shook his head and created the illusion of a red dragon, “To provide a cover story for what blasted the door.”

At that moment a set of bright red rays engulfed Avia and Trask, and from down the street came a wicked laugh as Xanesha appeared, in her true Lamia Matriarch form.

Less than a moment later Sabin and Nolin were at her side — something she clearly did not expect — and Nolin savagely hacked at her. Avia, who was still hasted, charged in and beat the shit out of her. Xanesha was swaying unsteadily on her feet, and I could see she planned to flee combat once again, and so I sent an icicle in her direction, which sank into her chest as she dropped, joining the rest of the filth on the street.

Rigel then came up and casually cut off her head. “Nothing to see here!”

I looked down at the hideous, broken body of Xanesha at my feet and thought of all of the carnage she had caused. Vengance for my cousin Menkat’s death now seemed a small thing compared to all the other sufferings, but it still tasted sweet all the same.

We took the opportunity to explain to the gamblers and operators of the house who Xanesha was, and what she was doing in Magnimar. The thought of their tattoos being used against them unsettled most, and I have little doubt that by morning not one of those present would be left sporting a sihedron rune. Word of Xanesha’s treachery and betrayal should rapidly spread throughout the district, if not the entire city.

We took Xanesha’s mask and spear, the latter of which Sabin recognized.

[1010] Mask of the Medusa: a gold mask with eyes of green crystal. Grants +4 bonus to all saving throws for visual effects. Once per day the wearer can seen a pale green ray from the eyes to a target, which must make a Fortitude save (DC15) or be turned to stone (like Flesh to Stone) for 1 minute.

[1011] Impaler of Thorns: an Ancient Thassilonian weapon used for crowd control. A +1 spear of dark wood, once per day it can be used to create a burst of despair in a 30′ radius with a DC16 Willpower save (see Crushing Despair for a description of the effects). Those who fail must make an additional save (DC15) to avoid being nauseated.

== Moonday, Erastus 7, 4708; Magnimar; mid morning ==

We met with the Lord Mayor, and explained what we found about the Runelord Karzoug, and his accomplice Xanesha. I explained the tattoos, and emphasized how important it was to set up some sort of city wide program to ensure that afflicted citizens could have their tattoos erased.

At first his Lordship was not particularly moved by our arguments, but after I explained how the tattoos would enable the return of an ancient power, who would most certainly look to conquering all of the major cities for himself, he began to warm up to the idea of having the city somehow assist.

I then offered up a plan whereby those who could afford it could pay for the removal of the tattoos for others, and that if each person who donated brought in others to donate, they would receive a share of that donation, and so on down the line. Quite naturally, I explained, the city would need to administer the program, taking an appropriate share required to manage it.

By then the Mayor was quite ecstatic about the program, and called in his financial administrators even as we were leaving.

We then finished selling off our excess items, got the coins exchanged, and purchased a few additional equipment and supplies.

We are about to teleport onto the Lost Coast Road, just south of Sandpoint, and walk to the city from there.

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

We entered Sandpoint, and were heartened to see reconstruction from the giant invasion and dragon’s fire well underway.

We have spoken with Mayor Devlin and Sheriff Hemlock, but they could only repeat what they had already said. Sandpoint was rocked by an earthquake, and soon thereafter the sinkhole appeared in the northwest corner of the town. At night an unholy howling can be heard from the sinkhole, and the guards who were sent down to investigate never returned. Later, cries of pain and agony had echoed up from the pit.

We peered down into the thirty foot wide crater and could see a passage leading off to the northwest. The southern end of the sinkhole exposed the cells of the city garrison, which provided easy access to the bottom of the pit, some fifteen feet below street level.

Hauling out Olithar’s journal and map entries I judged that the sinkhole was approximately where the underground temple had been, with its (now) inactive (or so we hoped) rune well.

I have taken Olithar’s old map of Sandpoint and sketched in the location of the sinkhole, and have copied his map of the underground complex into my journal so I can update it as needed.

== Moonday, Erastus 7, 4708; Sandpoint; after noon ==

The narrow passage from the sinkhole had a smooth, worked wall on the right, and a rough jumble of stone and earth on the left. Following it we soon reached a short set of steps leading down before sharply turning to the left. A door was on the right hand side of the junction, and a set of collapsed double doors further down the left passage, set in the right wall.

Comparing this arrangement with Olithar’s map it became apparent that part of the ceiling of the ancient underground temple had given way, and the passage was in fact the southeastern edge of this main chamber. Although littered with rubble, the area beyond the double doors matched Olithar’s map, and on the ground we could see fresh boot marks leading further into the complex.

We followed the prints, which led deeper into the Thassilonian ruins, through rooms, passageways and chambers where my companions had explored more than a year before. The rubble and damage caused by the sinkhole petered out as we went further in, and soon there was but a fine layer of dust on the floor, in which it was easy to see the prints of the ill-fated Sandpoint guardsmen.

In and down and around we walked until once again we encountered rubble strewn about the floor. This time it was at the top of a spiral staircase leading down.

Nolin volunteered that, “This was blocked the last time we were here, but it looks as if someone has removed the rubble.”

Olithar’s map confirmed this.

The boot marks led down, and so we followed until we ran into large spider webs blocking the stairs. Trask used a flaming sphere to burn these away, but found the stairway simply dead ended at what we assumed to be the bottom. Rigel squeezed forward and found a latch to a secret door, which she skillfully opened.

Wispy tendrils of cold, clammy fog wafted in from the darkness to the west.

We paused here to organize ourselves, and I have taken the opportunity to update our progress.

== Moonday, Erastus 7, 4708; Sandpoint; after noon ==

I know not what function this chamber served, but entering it sent a chill through my soul. The well worked stone walls, floors and archways were covered in Thassilonian writings… but the size, style and means by which the words were written varied.

Some passages are written in bold, blocky letters three feet tall, while others are in the smallest, most graceful script imaginable. Some words are written in a greasy black ink, and no small amount appear to be in a dark brown substance that can only be dried blood, and no few have been engraved into the stone itself.

Peculiar patches of magic fog cling to the eastern doorway, through which we came, and to the north, where a rough corridor dead ended. A door in the eastern wall to the corridor was locked, but Rigel’s nimble fingers quickly unlocked and opened it to reveal a very short hall with another locked door.

This locked proved no more difficult to Rigel than the last, and soon we opened the door and looked in to see a round room with a round pool in the center rimmed by a lip of stone. A domed ceiling arched overhead and runes covered every surface, praising Lamashtu, goddess of deformed creatures. The water itself was perhaps three to four feet deep and lightly radiated an aura of evocation.

Back in the main chamber a set of closed double doors, bearing the engraved likeness of a three eyed jackle (the symbol of Lamashtu) were set in the south wall, while westward a wide hallway appeared to open up to a much larger room.

But now a voice speaks out from the darkness: a grating, screechy sound speaking in ancient Thassilonian, and I shall attempt to record here all that is said as the conversation unfolds.

Voice: Greetings good people, what news of the world? What can you tell me of the Runelords who govern the lands?

Takkad: The Runelords are long dead, and only a few scholars remember them or their deeds.

Voice: What great power replaced these mighty rulers?

Takkad: While there are many empires, there is no single great empire: ancient Thassilon has crumbled to dust, and only a handful of ruins remain.

Avia: I sense a very evil presence over to the west.

Voice: Who in these lands wields the greatest power?

Takkad: There are many who wield mighty powers, but do not feel the need to subjugate others to prove their greatness.

Trask: I wield great power.

Voice: So there are no true wielders of great power left in the world, just impotent little war lords gnawing over their insignificant territories, or rag tag wanderers like yourselves.

Trask: No, really. I do wield great power.

Avia: If you are so powerful, then why do you hide in the shadow? Reveal yourself!

A fiendish humanoid appeared to the west, wearing a breast plate, and wielding a wicked looking falchion in one hand, and a dagger in the other. One of his eyes was glazed over — completely milky white — and he smiled at us with what I can only describe as an insane grin.

Takkad: The free peoples of the world represent far more power than your ancient, cruel overlords.

Voice: From what you say, nothing in the world today can compare to the great Runelords, and their Runeforge…

Trask: I said, I WIELD GREAT POWER!

A fireball has engulfed the figure — Trask!

The black tower becomes the final resting place for Derreldon. I still say this would make a great meat locker; the cold should keep meat for a long time. But at least for now this will be used as Derreldon final resting place. The thought occurred to me that we would place longtooth’s carcass down hear in case there are body parts that could be sold off for profit, This though did not occur to me until we already in Magnimar. Luckily for me I spent the time in columned hall studying an area so that in the near future I will be able to teleport back. With the use of teleport so effectively used in the longtooth situation I briefly had thoughts that with the combination of teleport and fireball I could get even with my old clan.

Back to Magnimar via teleport we went, such as great spell. On the way to the in I dropped off a vial of longtooth’s blood to my old master; I may be a little greedy keeping two bottles of dragon’s blood while only giving him a small vial. I just remember him talking about always nearly being out of dragon’s blood, this should keep him going for awhile. Walking through the streets the smell of cinnamon in the air provided instant memories of the cinnamon bread baked fresh daily by the bakery just ahead. The bakery was still open and I purchased the last loaf, combined with beer this truly a wonderful meal. I was taking a shortcut through an alley on my way back to the inn when three combatants from my early days as a wizard blocked the alleyway ahead. My plan was to head over to the agreed upon inn for a meal but three young wizards stood between me and my meal.

Teddy: “So you have the nerve to show your face in Magnimar again. Obviously we need to teach you another lesson. This time your feeble shield spell is not going to help you. ”

John: “Come on lets get started I want to see if catches on fire when we hit him with scorching ray.”

Teddy: “Tell you what you give us all your money and equipment and we will let you crawl out of this alley. You don’t want to mess with us. That ax of yours isn’t going to help you, we will burn you before you can get close.”

Sabin: “Go bother someone else before you get hurt. Besides by the time you get close enough to use scorching ray you will close enough for me to hit you with this ax. “

Teddy” Your just trying..AH”

Dimension Door to right in front of the three of them.

Sabin in an intimidating voice: “Leave me alone or I will rip off your arms and feed them to the dogs!”

Teddy: “AH AH”

All three looked to be shaken as I walked past them down through the streets to the inn. The rest of the trip back to the inn was uneventful and I have just completed my wonderful meal.

Takkad has just returned and has a determined look upon his brow. Looks like it is time to get back to work. At least he did not interrupt my meal.