(Week Seventeen) Politcal manouvers

We set out at once for Kratas by way of Eidolon.  In Eidolon we took a look at the goods for sale and a avoided the Theran pastries for both political and caloric reasons.  I did however, sell a ruby that I had stashed with m things. 

We headed into Kratas by way of Daiche.  On the way into town, the sun began to set as we came upon a friendly human farmer with a load or turnips.  When a band of Ork Scortchers bore down on us, we girded ourselves for battle, but she, unconcerned, warned us to stay close.  We wondered how she might protect us with nothing but roots but when she held up the vegetables, the Scortchers passed us by.  We later learned that Garlthic One-Eye has few rules but that one is that farmers are not to be molested.

In town, we saw to the stabling of our horses and then prepared to make our way to an inn in the area frequented by the farmers but were accosted by Chrysalis an Obsidiman who would say only that his master must meet with us at once, before we saw Garlthic.  Friti was skeptical but he paid for our time and promised that more would be offered at the meeting.  Since we hadn't planned to see Garlthic before the next morning anyway we finally agreed to accompany him to Koriolus' Cups the finest inn in Kratas.  There we met his master who died before he could tell us anything.  We took our payment and the golden dagger with which he had been stabbed.

As soon as word got out that he was dead, a pushy Windling, who I suspected might be Garlthic in disguise but Jaga thought she was the heir apparent and chief of his enforcers.  She refused to buy me dinner our hire a masseur to help my aching tail.  She took out letter of introduction to Garlthic and we told her the story of how we had arrived at the inn but did not elaborate about our business with Garlthic or show her the knife.  She was followed around by a fopish (is there any other kind) male T'skrang who didn't show much interest in me.


We spent the night in a flop house in the Green Grocer part of town, taking watches.  The next morning we went to see Garlthic at his mansion and were let in.  There he stood with the Windling and T'skrang from last night.  We told him the whole story and I showed him the knife.  The Windling seemed to recognize it and tried to grab it away from me.  I resisted giving up my treasure to any lesser person to Garlthic but she took offense and sliced off my (other) hand.  I fainted from shock and loss of blood.

I awoke the next day in an inn in the stable district where the party had carried me.  Friti had gone to train so I sought the services of Garlan.  After three days (and 3000 silver) my hand was fully restored but I found that I had told nearly everything of our parties business to the friendly questor who had healed me.   

Week seventeen -- Jaga

So no shit, there we were. Walking down the road, minding our own business, trying to deliver a message from the king, when we spotted raiders up the road, barreling toward us. Long story short, we were saved from certain death by an old lady bearing turnips. I tasted one, they didn't taste particularly dangerous, but she was insistent that we would be safe if only we would stay near her turnip cart. Now, I can think of better things to do than suffer what I expect would be a horrible and painful death, so I stayed near the cart. Sure enough, the raiders were suitably deterred by the roots and did not harm us, but simply rode on by. I was pleasantly surprised that this actually worked. (Apparently even hardened, bloodthirsty criminals consider it bad form to harm a farmer in these parts. I can't say I'm entirely against the idea, either.) I made a mental note to myself to give turnips another try, seeing as though I've always been sort of non-committal about them. Attitudes can change when something saves your life.

Anyway, we no sooner got into town than we get stopped by an obsidimin requesting we meet with his boss, an appropriately dressed elf, before we deliver our message from the king. I didn't see any reason why we couldn't meet with both, so we headed off with the obsidimin straight away.

It turned out to be a short meeting. The poor elf only managed to squeak out a half sentence before he was stabbed in the back through a cleverly hidden hole in the back of his seat. It really wasn't too terribly surprising, given the area, but it was disappointing not being able to get the appropriate information. The really interesting part was actually the stabbing weapon itself, a rather ornate dagger. It wasn't something I think you'd want to leave behind by accident. The whole situation makes me a little nervous.

As expected, seeing as though a crime was committed in our presence, we had to talk to the local authorities. And the local authorities did not disappoint – it turned out to be Terricia, a windling of considerable fame being a world-class bitch and the heir apparent to the throne. She didn't get much information out of us, considering we didn't really know anything, but she did take our letter of introduction. That sort of pissed me off, but I couldn't really think of anything to do about it at the time. She's really not someone I'm comfortable fucking with.

Thankfully, we were still granted an audience with the head orc the next day, despite our lack of letter of introduction. Terricia was also there, which may have helped a bit. He wanted to talk about our ill-fated meeting the previous night, but we couldn't really tell him anything besides what we had already told Terricia. They wanted to inspect the dagger, but our t'skrang was experiencing a shit-for-brains moment, and decided not to give it to her. Suffice it to say that ended badly for our t'skrang with Terricia still holding the dagger in end. Can't save everyone, I suppose. We did learn, however, that the dagger belonged to a rather famous assassin. But again, why he'd leave the dagger behind eludes me. The whole thing doesn't sit well with me, something bad is going on here.

Week sixteen -- Jaga

After our last disaster, we tried the same plan again, but with a different approach -- we checked people _before_ they came in!  Brilliant.  We found one guy who was sending crazy mixed signals -- dangerous, suddenly not dangerous, you know the type. The cavalryman and I tired the direct approach and swiftly found ourselves back at the door wondering what we were supposed to be doing.  It was weird.  Finally.  The t'skrang broke the ice with the guy by buying him a drink.  He said he was looking for the same thing we were -- that is, I assume, the gambling horror.  Why he was looking for it, he didn't say, and she didn't ask. 

Further searching of the participants revealed a strange broach that wanted to fight with us.  Unfortunately, we all got the strange feeling that we actually should attack it, and the broach skittered away.  Yes, skittered.  I didn't know broached could skitter, abut apparently they can.

More unfortunately, drinking guy somehow got a  hold of it, and ran off with it.  And apparently he was some sort of bad guy, because we very quickly found ourselves in the company of the kind, who them immediately left to go fight him. We probably should have just smashed the broach when we had the chance.

(week who-the-hell-cares) Anti-gaming

So three elves and a t'skrang walk in to a bar ...

Gambling is SOOOO hard ...

I don't think I could live without my right hand ...

Oh look they have a red mist machine in that bar!!!

Is there a love interest in this adventure?

Yes there is ... yes there is ;)

What a night ... enjoy!!!

(Week Fourteen) A Travelling Horror

Returning to the ship was accessed the upper chamber now unguarded and discovered panels to insert the keys.  We were unable to discover any functionality but did seem to set off an alarm and overload the engines.  We left the ship and watched from a goodly distance as it exploded in a ball of fire.

Setting out, we soon found evidence of that a Horror tainted individual had horribly maimed a camp of miners.  They had no means of communication and were suffering horribly.  Friti put them out of their misery.  We did the same when we found a group of picnickers who had suffered the same fate.

We tracked the contagion to Bartertown where the horror first attacked the Red Spot.  We obtained a description from the used horse salesman who had bought the horse that we had been tracking.  Friti said that he seemed to be a normal mount.  We were unable to learn more at the Red Spot because all the victims had been sequestered by the guards.

At first the Throalic guard was suspicious but eventually we were given a commission to aid in the search by a mysterious dwarf who also took the robe from us.  We discovered the man who we had been looking for among the victims from the Red Spot.  Several patrols of guards were attacked and we discovered that one guard was missing.  He had bought the same horse the Horror had ridden in on and headed for House Syrtis.  We followed him there only to learn of an attack on a boat downstream.  We hurried to follow but then were intercepted by messengers bearing the news of a new attack in Syrtis, to which we duefully returned.  

(Week Thirteen) Horrible Happenings

We spent the a week or so in barter town but gained little knowledge that would help us identify the source of Vaughn's trouble more concretely.  Eventually we heard that a powerful adept who was visiting House Syrtis might be able to help.  We set off overland.  Along the way we found evidence that the Therans had captured the mysterious woman from the strange vessel but recovered her robe from a drunk troll.  At house Syrtis we were ordered to stop by the guards and Vaughn was hit by an arrow but eventually recovered.

Reluctantly we returned to the ship to finish exploring its secrets.  We found that it had been searched and ransacked by Therans but the control room was still guarded by the armored creature and appeared inviolate.  Vaughn gained access to the mysterious weapon after another party member failed to activate it.  Though the guard fled rather than face him so armed, he turned the weapon us.  At first unable to aim accurately once he had plunged the spike into his brain he was deathly accurate killing Sparky and Eyob.  The cavalryperson and I subdued him and took him to Charles in Gnarles Barkly for his advice.  He said that Vaughn was clearly Horror-tainted and that the only solution was burning.  We agreed to decapitate him first and proceeded to purge the evil.

Week fifteen -- Jaga

My life is frustration. We get so close to finding the... the what? Source of the horror? Method of transmission? Motivation? Whatever it is, we get close to finding it, and then fail miserably. We even got it to change its pattern of behavior – we're obviously on to something, but what that something is, I can't say. 

I'm beyond frustrated at this point, and my companions apparently feel the same, since they see suicide as the only option remaining. I'd call them noble for their sacrifice, but I think they're just getting lazy. There has to be something that we're missing – something that we're not getting. I just don't know, I'm just out of ideas. I don't know what to do. Investigation sucks. It was so much easier to track down petty criminals and rip their fingernails off.