Game Night 10 (Oct 18th, 2012)

About Damn Time!

If my comrades haven’t noticed my heritage by now, they probably never will. I drew my mother’s elven curve blade for the first time today. It remains too heavy for one hand, but with such large vermin about I can no longer rely on speed alone. The snarky gnome has even shown me how to redirect my arcane energies into each strike. He suggests lightening the blade with magic (if I still insist on such antiquated fighting styles.)

We returned to the old silver mine upon my recuperation to face Tartuk, stopping only to camp and successfully dispatch a pack of hungry wolves. Along with Mikmak, the party moved into the mine quietly enough for a moment of observation. At this point Vistos approached Tartuk as Chief Sootscale and his suspicious servitors made no motions to stop him. However, the uppity gnome’s attempts to close casting distance were interrupted as the shaman enchanted our strong right arm, Tabal. This time I was shocked to witness everyone bolstered by my legwork, for normally they politely look away. Even so, it was not enough for Tabal who fled in fear with brave Mikmak to look after him. The fray ended soon enough as Tarquin’s beast made the rounds and Oligo ended Tartuk’s life with one deft arrow.

It was folly as we suspected. The “cursed” kobold bodies revealed stab wounds and magical trickery that exposed Tartuk’s fraudulent statue. Unless you believe Vistos’ claim, none of us saw it coming when Tartuk reverted in death. He is, or was, a gnome succumb to madness as depicted in his own journals. I wonder if there is any further meaning to his particular choice of disguise…? Anyway, we left the kobolds their “treasure” and confiscated the crazy gnome’s valuables. I have spry new boots and my blade hit true. It was a good day.


Tabal has been in a funk the past few days. He has done more drinkin and bitchin than fightin. Is he getting bored with us? Is he taking too much comfort in his wineskin? Is the journey to hard for him? Hell if I know. What I do know is the rest of us are going to have to man the fuck up if his doldrums persist. I did my part the last few days killing wolves and dispensing the imposter Tartuk. Megil has surprisingly pulled his weight after recovering from his tick-born plague. Not sure if seeing Tabal fight with the ferocity of a lamb has anything to do with it but it is welcomed to see Megil regain his confidence. I hope the nature spirits grant Tarquin and Jinx with more strength and vitality. Their talents will be needed as we approach the Whorelord. I don’t know about Vistos and his eratic magic, sometimes he can burn the flesh off of trolls and othertimes his eyes spout blood. I guess his mettle will tested soon enough, except I won’t be standing next to him when the time comes. I have a good feeling Tabal only needs to feel the rush of combat again to get his liquored juices flowing. Or better yet the fluff of a young maid!!!

Latest Journal Entry
My time out in the Greenbelt had not been put to waste. I have learned more in these short months than all my time with my father. My aim has turned more deadly and truer. My senses are keener than a cat and my body is tougher than a boar. Tabal has taught me about dungeons and caves. Megil has taught me how to escape from sticky situations. Tarquin has taught me the basics of a healing touch. Vistos has taught me how to make a good Moon Radish Stew.

Game Night 10 (Oct 18th, 2012)

While I believe Tartuk’s heart was in the right place, his methods were cruel and in the end I guess ineffective. I still think it may be a mistake to leave these kobolds to their own devices, but I guess if we hear anything about them interfering in civilized people’s affairs we can come back and wipe them out in a moment’s notice.

Also, I’m glad at least one of our band has come to our senses and seen that the right path in life is a very magical one. While he still has a lot to go (he still dances around like a fool), I believe one day he may even be as powerful as I am.

For some reason, my band of merry men has been avoiding the forest like it’s some sort of plague. I, for one, would like to see what’s inside. I know that if I were trying to hide information or treasure, I would do it in the woods instead of the open plains.

Game Night 10 (Oct 18th, 2012)

Welp, I knew it has to happen someday. I’m gettin’ old. I’ve seen it before. Old warriors, tired and worn from fightin’ and scrappin’ since they was barely able to walk. Once tread with an old warrior, name a’ Fitz. Had a job to raid an old farm house. T’was me, Fitz, and a handful of other young, starvin’ kids looking to make some bread, maybe even eat some.

Turned out we were had. Man who gave us the job was an old friend of the sheriff, and they figured settin’ up the local riff for some prison time would help out with the recent lack o slave labor in town. Walked into a barn o guards with weapons drawn. That’s when I saw it, that looks on old Fitz’s face. Coward turned and ran. Was cut down by arrows before he got more’n twenty feet.

But that look. I remember feelin’ that same look on my face when I turned yellow and ran out o’ that cave like a teet-sucklin’ babe. Gods know why I didn’t fall on my sword after. Maybe it just wasn’t my time. Maybe t’was because Oligo lodged an arrow in that little kobold/gnome bastard’s neck.

Haven’t looked any of ‘em in the eye yet. Don’t want to see the shame. Damnable magic!

Fitz ran, and died. Most of the others died too, but me and a couple others fought our way through the trap. Earned a lot o’ scars that night. Maybe shame’s just another kind o’ scar. Hurts more than t’others, though.


Game Night 10 (Oct 18th, 2012)
gingersupremacy blakealandarst

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