Month: September 2020

Macendamandel 28 Year 888 (New Imperial Calendar)

I’m not saying that I wanted some variety of dramatic life or death struggle (okay maybe a little – almost dying can give you quite a rush) but putting an end of the deprivations of dream haunter was rather anti-climactic.  There were no minions, no traps, no lurking beasts in the darkness – not even a tomb really, just a cave.  I was expecting at the very least that her mortal remains would jump up and try to throttle me or vomit forth a locust-storm (where do undead get all those locusts from?) to devour me but there was nothing of the sort.  Just an old dead body.  All that was left was bones anyway so we smashed those up good and then chucked the shards off the side of the mountain.  I don’t know what the technical magical specifications are for destroying someone’s mortal remains but that seemed pretty good. 

I thought once the deed was done the hag herself might show up to attack me or to taunt me or to put a curse on me or something, but there was nothing at all.  I think I agreed to another errand I was supposed to do for her as part of our deal, but probably the guy what got killed was supposed to tell me next part.  Luck for me huh?  Now I don’t have to do it.  I don’t remember exactly what the exchange was supposed to be – she already told me were to find the tomb (such as it was) so what leverage did she have?  I mean beyond the nightmare attacks but I didn’t get the impression she planned on stopping that regardless.    

As far as defeating ancient elder evils go it was very humdrum.  Which I guess is good.  Afterwards I spent the night on a mountain ledge with some Daga and their heard of shaggy mountain goats – I assume they were some of the non-murderous kind on account of they didn’t try to murder me.  Crinna would not shut up about how I had “ruined” her reputation and she was afraid that she would never be able to show her face in town again.  It was highly annoying.  And here’s the thing, I didn’t seriously consider killing her to shut her up.  Not only that but I didn’t even steal her magic everflowing tankard despite the fact that my flask has stolen from me and even if it hadn’t been I deserved it have something like that more than Crinna anyway.  Also despite that fact that it would have been very easy for me to steal it.  Personal growth or sentimental weakness?  Perhaps they’re one and the same.

In the morning the shaggy mountain people wandered up higher into the mountains with their shaggy mountain herd and Crinna was nowhere to be found.  Probably she fell down the rocky slope, drunk as a monk, and broke her bloody neck.  Left alone I had some time to wonder what my next move should be.  Things didn’t really work out in Three Rivers, so that’s still on the “to revenge” list, but I don’t relish going back there right this moment.  The plan after that was to head to Graltontown next to finally help Martialla with her revenge murder, but that doesn’t matter now.  I hadn’t really thought what the next step after that was going to be, which isn’t laziness so much as the acknowledgement of the fact that my plans are always derailed on step .01.  Maybe I should just head to Paladore and get to work on taking down Duke Eaglevane.  There’s a lot to like about that idea. 

There are drawbacks too.  Such as, the entire idea was that I would spend some time building up some resources that would give me a good chance to succeed in taking down one of the eleven most powerful men in the Kingdom.  What resources do I have now exactly?  A crossbow, some robes, and a garish cape.  That’s not a lot to go on. So what do you do when you’re not sure what to do?  You go back to basics.  What’s the most important thing?  Revenge.  And who do I want revenge on?  The people on the List.  Setting aside the Duke for the moment who do we have?   Rince Electrum – the watchman who did nothing.  He’s in Graltontown.  Percy Ringle – the snooty butler.  All butlers are snooty sure, but he was beyond the pale with his snootiness you know?  He’s in Graltontown.  Alice Kinsey my first, last, and only roommate, who coldly turned me out on the streets in my time of need.  Sure I poisoned her, but is that enough revenge?  No.  Not nearly enough.  She’s in Graltontown.  Cardshire Arms owner Claire Conrad– asshole.  Graltontown. Sage Mirror owner Risela– asshole.  Graltontown.  Eedraxis, the alchemist who tried to kill me.  Near Graltontown.  And so on, I really filled up my dance card in that grotesque little burg.  Looks like I’m heading back to Graltontown anyway.  But not because I might bump into Martialal there.  I don’t even think about her anymore.

The easiest way to get there would be to find some kind of boat in Gib’s Tor and float myself downstream to Three Rivers and from there on to the Comass River.  But I don’t want to go back there until I can really take down the consortium so instead I’m going to head across country to Bryny and from there across to Cathars.  From Cathars I can then take the road south to Graltontown.  Which is going to take forever.  How do I keep ending out in the middle of nowhere?  Just thinking about all the miles I’m going to be walking is making me want to turn back before I ever set out.  On the plus side of the column though maybe I can get all my stuff back in Cathars.  Assuming that I’m not arrested again.    Or maybe either way.

Once I had my plan of action, such as it was, I set out to the west (maybe) in the direct of Bryny (probably).  Once you’re made up your mind there’s nothing else to do but do it. 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Funds: 6642 gold

XP: 1,277,751

Inventory: Bag of Holding, +2 Distance Light Crossbow, traveling outfit, Ring of Invisibility, potion case, potions (Protection from Evil, Cure Moderate Wounds x4) Blessed Robes, Vampire Hunter’s Cloak, +1 Mithril Holy Undead Bane Sword-Cane

Revenge List: Duke Eaglevane, Piltis Swine, Rince Electrum, watchman Gridley, White-Muzzle the worg, Percy Ringle the butler, Alice Kinsey , “Patch”, Heroes of the Lost Sword, Claire Conrad, Erist priest of Strider, Riselda owner of the Sage Mirror, Eedraxis,  Skin-Taker tribe, Kartak, Królewna & Bonifacja Trading Company, Hurmont Family, Androni Titus, Greasy dreadlocks woman, Lodestone Security, Kellgale Nickoslander, Beltian Kruin the Splithog Pauper, The King of Spiders, Auraluna Domiel, mother Hurk, Mazzmus Parmalee,  Helgan van Tankerstrum, Lightdancer, Bonder Greysmith, Pegwhistle Proudfoot, Lumbfoot Sheepskin, Lumber Consortium of Three Rivers, Hellerhad the Wizard, Forsaken Kin, Law Offices of Office of Glilcus and Stolo, Jey Rora, Colonel Tarl Ciarán, Mayor Baras Haldmeer, Rindol the Sage, Essa, eyeless hag, Baron Saltwheel, Baron Harmenkar, Colonel Tarl Ciarán’s wizard soldier, Victor, Beharri, Cebuano, Mayor Eryn, Chimera Trading Company, maker of the manacles, Calvados Eure, Law Offices of Lampblack and Brimstone, Peronell Missplitter, Nightmare Hag

Macendamandel 27 Year 888 (New Imperial Calendar) Part 3

Had turned out to be a bald dwarf as round as a pot-belled stove and about the same size.  As I understand it most exile dwarfs are exiled because they’re kinslayers or mentally divergent, maybe this guy was kicked out (up?) from the dwarf tunnels for gluttony and sloth.  I’ve never seen a bald dwarf before, it’s disconcerting.  He had a beard down to his belt and yet his head was smooth like an egg, an egg made of skin.  I didn’t care for it in the least.  I also didn’t care for the way he was eyeballing me while he and Crinna droned on in dwarfish – which seems to be the only way to speak dwarfish, in a drone.  I was keeping an eye out for further attacks but as soon as we walked into the place everyone else cleared out – even the bartender – so word must have gotten around.  Which was nice because not only did I mean that I didn’t have to worry about a sneak attack but also it meant that the booze was self-service.  And there’s really no one better to determine how much booze I need than me.  Some things are just done best for yourself.

Eventually the droning droned to a stop and the two shook hands in an awkward way and the stove-dwarf waddled off while Crinna sat back looking immensely pleased with her.  I addressed her from behind the bar.

“How many languages do you speak?”

“Oh several, I have a very talented tongue.”

“I’m sure.  Is he going to get the guide or what’s the plan?

She shook her head, idly scratching at her stomach “The guide’s going to meet us in the hills, I know the way to the meeting spot.”

“I don’t care for that, what happens if you get an arrow through the skull?”

She grinned “I guess you better make sure that doesn’t happen huh?”

“What’s your angle here lady?  Why are you so keen on getting to this tomb?”

“I’m just the helpful type.  But if you need a better reason there’s a building in town filled with dwarf machines. No one has been able to work out how to operate them or even what they do.  Had is going to give me a book that should help me figure it out.”

“That explains exactly nothing, what’s Had getting out of this?  Also you were excited before you even talked to the dwarf.  Also why would you care about some old dwarf machine?  I’m sure it’s some kind of forge, what’s all dwarfs ever build.”

She sighed “Look, do you want my help or not?”

“I want to know what game you’re playing at.”

She scowled at me a moment before speaking “Things have been changing around here.  Once you told me what your problem was I figured out what was going on.  This dream woman of yours is messing with people’s minds, that’s why things have been getting so unpleasant around here lately.  If burning some old corpse is going to stop that I’m all for it.”

“Why do you care about this shithole of a town?”

She lifted her chin defiantly “This shithole is my home.”

“Fair enough, I would prefer a more pure motivation like revenge but I guess civic pride will do.” 

“Oh, I want revenge too, her followers have chased off some good people.  Friends you might even say.”

I smiled “Now we’re talking.”

I give these would-be assassins points for persistence if nothing else.  We hadn’t even made it out of “town” when I heard one of their spotters calling out to his companions to start shooting.  I used my Ring and passed Crinna a potion and we invisibly slipped that ambush net.  I was holding onto her hand as per invisibility protocols but I think she took it the wrong way.  I also think she meant to whisper in my ear, but instead it was more at boob level.

“We have to hurry before the spells wears off!”

I tugged her back towards town “We do need to hurry, but not that way.”

“Why would we go back to town?”

“Because I’m tired of fighting my own battles.”

There may be only one tavern in town, but you can bet your last silver that there’s plenty of places were the lads get together and drink themselves stupid – especially in a habitat like this were the only jobs available are mining, hauling ore, and climbing mountains.  That’s the kind of work that necessities getting obliterated on a regular basis.  I told Crinna to take me to roughest place where humans still hung out.  She asked why not go to an all half-orc hangout and I explained to her that those could just be working class losers, diversity is more often found amongst cutthroats and footpads.

The place she took reminded me of the Orc’s Head “tavern” in Gevudan where I matched wits with Gilthur Trueblood – no, not matched wits, outwitted entirely.  There was a little wooden shanty – it looked like those steeple cover things you see on wells sometimes those probably have a name– protecting a couple barrels of moonshine from the elementals (kinda) and then a scattering of stumps and boxes and other odds and ends for the sittin’.  There were maybe a dozen ragged looking hulks of gristle and muscle sitting around drinking away the cares of the day, and of their lives.  They watched with a dull malice of rock lizards as I sashayed my pretty little self right up to their barrels of swill and plopped down a sack full of gold, making sure to spill some out on the ground.

“Good evening gentlemen, we are tonight’s entertainment.  I have quite a bit more gold hidden on me person.  Some people are coming to kill me and if they do they’re going to take it.  If you kill them instead the gold is yours.  Simple right?’

I’ve seen a couple half-orcs before, but this is the first time I’ve seen one whose skin was unmistakably purple.  The purple half-orc, covered with the obligatory scars and wearing a stupid buckskin number, grunted and spoke for the group.

“What’s to stop us from killing you and taking the money ourselves?”

Crinna and I ducked behind the barrels as the arrows started flying “That.”

I wonder if my dream nemesis can actually control people once they give in to her dream charms because it seems pretty reckless to me that they would attack the drunken horde of lowlife scum.  Half of them ran for the hills, but the other half counter-attacked in drunken rage.  The smart thing would have been to just wait, so are they stupid or is their dream girl making them stupid?  Hardly matters I suppose since the end result is the same, but it’s something to wonder about.  A little more invisibility and Crinna and I were off again – and this time able to leave town unmolested.

Crinna looked back at Gib’s Tor as we headed into the rocky badlands “What about the money you promised them?”

“Are you serious?”

“Don’t you think they might come after you?”

“I’m never going back there again, who cares about what they might do?”

“I do, I live there!”

“That sounds like a personal problem.  You speak at least four languages, you shouldn’t be hanging around this place anyway, you should be out selling your services as a translator to the highest bidder.  Do you know how few people speak dwarfish?”

“I hired out to translate for you and look where that got me.”

“You’re getting exactly what you want, what do you have to complain about?” I shook my head “I feel like this day is taking forever, let’s get moving and get this over with.”

Crinna muttered sourly “All this trouble for a quarter of a bottle of booze.”

“You’re the one who agreed to it, you have no one to blame but yourself rummy.  Learn how to negotiate better.”

________________________________________________________________________________________________________
 

Funds: 6642 gold

XP: 1,277,751

Inventory: Bag of Holding, +2 Distance Light Crossbow, traveling outfit, Ring of Invisibility, potion case, potions (Protection from Evil, Cure Moderate Wounds x4) Blessed Robes, Vampire Hunter’s Cloak, +1 Mithril Holy Undead Bane Sword-Cane

Revenge List: Duke Eaglevane, Piltis Swine, Rince Electrum, watchman Gridley, White-Muzzle the worg, Percy Ringle the butler, Alice Kinsey , “Patch”, Heroes of the Lost Sword, Claire Conrad, Erist priest of Strider, Riselda owner of the Sage Mirror, Eedraxis,  Skin-Taker tribe, Kartak, Królewna & Bonifacja Trading Company, Hurmont Family, Androni Titus, Greasy dreadlocks woman, Lodestone Security, Kellgale Nickoslander, Beltian Kruin the Splithog Pauper, The King of Spiders, Auraluna Domiel, mother Hurk, Mazzmus Parmalee,  Helgan van Tankerstrum, Lightdancer, Bonder Greysmith, Pegwhistle Proudfoot, Lumbfoot Sheepskin, Lumber Consortium of Three Rivers, Hellerhad the Wizard, Forsaken Kin, Law Offices of Office of Glilcus and Stolo, Jey Rora, Colonel Tarl Ciarán, Mayor Baras Haldmeer, Rindol the Sage, Essa, eyeless hag, Baron Saltwheel, Baron Harmenkar, Colonel Tarl Ciarán’s wizard soldier, Victor, Beharri, Cebuano, Mayor Eryn, Chimera Trading Company, maker of the manacles, Calvados Eure, Law Offices of Lampblack and Brimstone, Peronell Missplitter, Nightmare Hag

Macendamandel 27 Year 888 (New Imperial Calendar) Part 2

(Author’s note – if you experience giantism for more than six rounds please consult your potion brewer)

Once I explained to my scabby new friend where I wanted to go her interest increased by the same factor the interest of the Daga in taking me anywhere decreased.  Turns out they have a major “thing” about not trampling over burial grounds and messing with dead bodies.  Go figure huh?  Crinna, that’s scabby, seemed to be getting increasingly frantic about making this happen which I found off-putting.  Why was she all of a sudden so excited about going to an ancient tomb?  Is she one of those death-obsessed freaks?  Or a tomb raider?  Or worse, an adventurer?  I was about to ask her what he deal was but she was pacing around talking at a rapid pace, her everfull tankard forgotten for once.

“Okay, okay, here’s what we do.  This is what we need to do.  What we’ll do is we’ll go to the tavern.  Yes, to the tavern, but not to drink.  No, not to drink.  What we’ll do is we’ll ask Had.  We won’t drink we’ll ask Had.  Well we’ll drink a little.  Had knows what’s going on around here.  Had is fence but he knows the score.  He’s like an information merchant.  Yes, we’ll go and ask Had, at the tavern.  We may have a couple of drinks while we’re there but that’s not why we’re going.  We’re going to talk to Had.  To ask him.  Had knows.  He’ll know someone like me who knows the ways but isn’t all stuck in the past like those superstitious . . .” it was at this point that an arrow slammed into her chest, causing her to look down “. . . hey!”

I turned my Ring for invisibility and hit the dirt as more arrows started flying seemingly from every direction.  Crinna grabbed the arrow in her flesh and angrily tried to pull it to no avail as more arrows clattered around her.  Another hit her in the shin and at that she yelped and ran for cover – of which there was very little, there seemed to be archers on every “street”.  She solved that problem by leaping head-first into the door of a hut/shack and smashing her way in and through.  The archers themselves looked to be disparate collection of local thugs with mismatched and dilapidated arms and armor, although clearly effective nonetheless.  They continued to fire arrows for a moment, either out of pure excitement or trying to hit me with blind shots.  One with a greased-up mohawk and the head of some dead animal attached to his armor was shouting excitedly.

“I got her!  I got her right in the neck!”

A wide-bodied fellow with one of those stupid cooking pot looking helmets came up beside him “You hit her in the chest fool not the throat.”

I woman with a red jacket and tattoos around one eye twitched up to them as well “I think I shot her in the leg.  I was just trying to aim, I accidentally let go.”

Pot-helmet smiled indulgently “That happens.”

I heard a fourth voice shouting from a distance “Where did she go?!”

Mohawk yelled back “I got her!”

Pot-helmet scowled and looked like he wanted to swat him “No one got anyone!  She hid in one of these houses, start looking for the one with the bashed in door.”

Another distant voice came shouting “What happened to the other one?”

The first voice replied “Who cares?  Concentrate on the target.”

While they were searching I invisi-crawled into hiding myself since the invisibility only lasts a short while.  Also while they were searching in listening to them shouting back and forth I realized that they thought Crinna was me!  How could they make that mistake?!  They clearly were after the person who had turned down their immortal (although I’m going to kill her so I guess not) ghost mistress from the distant past and they thought that was Crinna!  I’m not sure I’ve ever been more insulted in my life.  If nothing else I’m like a foot taller than her!  Not to mention our different hair color and the fact that she’s a scruffy mangy little shrimp who’s about as attractive as a multi-limbed crustacean whereas I am one of the Kingdom’s top five beauties!  Top ten at least.  I mean sure my clothing is a little ragged right now and I have this scar and I haven’t done anything with me hair lately, but come on people!  I was so insulted that I smeared the shadow essence I took off that sleeping assassin and shot mohawk in the back, quickly hiding again.

Mohawk threw his bow up in the air hysterically “I’m hit!”

Pot-helmet cursed at him “Get some cover damn it!”

Mohawk leaned against a building as the poison started sapping his strength “I don’t feel so good.”

He felt even less good when Crinna popped out the window of that building and hacked into his neck with her sword.  He sagged to the ground like a deflated wineskin as she ducked back inside.  It probably felt good to strike back but it marked her position.  Pot-helmet and Tattoo kept scanning the area, probably for me, as six other bowmen (and women) converged on the hut and prepared to storm the place.  I smeared my oil of Fire Trap onto the door of another hut and used my voice abilities to mimic Crinna’s voice coming from inside that building calling to me for help.  Half of them looked at each other in confusion but the other three run to the new hut and were blasted by a massively disappointing amount of fire from the magical trap.  It was less than a small campfire’s worth of magic fire.  Why would you even waste your time making that!  Magic is the worst.

That tiny puff of smoke did result in the occupants of the shack coming out hopping mad, or at least hopping because of pants around the ankles.  One fella I didn’t get a good look at because he lit out for the hills bare ass naked, an expression people often used incorrectly to mean completely nude – I literally mean that his ass was bare, he did have a grungy shirt on.  The other fella looked like a man-sized wolverine that had been shaved and fitted for a pair of spectacles.  How anyone in this dirtwater town can afford spectacles with a silver rim is beyond my ken.  Once he kicked away the pants around his ankles he was naked as the day he was born – which is the proper way to say that someone wasn’t wearing a stitch.  He wasn’t covered with blood like the day someone is born at first but he changed that quickly on account of he was swinging a hammer that was taller than me.  I don’t know if it was a weapon or a tool but the difference was lost on the archer whose head he cracked like an egg.

He was a little but upset about being interrupted I gather.  As the archers regrouped to fill his naked body with arrows I downed a potion for increased size and battle rage and then changed my appearance to that of a vicious cave giant.  I dropped my invisibility and laid into them with my sword – if you were observant and thinking clearly you would have realized that a fancy mithril short blade is an unlikely weapon for a brutish cave giant but that’s generally not the kind of thing people notice when they’re fighting for their lives.  With a roar naked hammer man dashed another archer to the ground before falling with a good dozen arrows in him.  Crinna dashed out for a backstab on another and they decided that running away screaming was the better part of valor.  By this point the townsfolk were turning up with a hodgepodge of weapons to confront the giant attacking their town and I dropped that illusion ad held up my hands.

“No, no, no need for any of that.  Not a real giant, just a very talented lady.  I’m not even this big really, it just takes a moment for the potion to run out.  Just give me a minute here . . . any moment I’m going to shrink down . . . I swear, just a minute and I’ll be normal.”

Half of them looked like they wanted to skewer me anyway but I was able keep things from escalating out of hand.  It did help once the potion wore off and I returned to my usual, but still impressive, height.  Crinna wouldn’t stop bellyaching about her wounds until I gave her half my healing potions and even then she was whining about getting an infection.

I looked around “Do we need to get out of here before the law shows up?  I assume there has to be some kind of law even out here.”

Crinna rubbed at her now non-existent leg wound “That was the law.”

“The mob?”

“No, the people trying to kill me.”

“Well, that changes things.  And for the record they were after me, they just thought you were me.”  She laughed and I grinned “I know hilarious right?  Wait a minute, why are you laughing?  You should be flattered.”

“Oh, I am, I’ve always wanted to be a undernourished stork.”

“I will kick you right in the chest.”

She gingerly got to her feet “That would be something to worry about too with those ridiculously long stork legs.  So much momentum.”

“Can you actually help me find this tomb or is all you have to offer inaccurate insults?”

She waved me forward “Like I said we need to talk to Had.  He knows all the ways.”

“We should watch out for more attacks.”

She unhooked her tankard from her belt and took a long quaff “Well that was the whole of the lawmen in town, I doubt they’re be wanting to go another round with half of them dead.” She looked over at the dead naked man, laying ass-up on the ground riddled with arrows “Although we’ve lost out back-up so maybe we should keep an eye out.”

Funds: 6919 gold

XP: 1,277,751

Inventory: Bag of Holding, +2 Distance Light Crossbow, traveling outfit, Ring of Invisibility, potion case, potions (Protection from Evil, Cure Moderate Wounds x4, Invisibility x2) Blessed Robes, Vampire Hunter’s Cloak, +1 Mithril Holy Undead Bane Sword-Cane

Revenge List: Duke Eaglevane, Piltis Swine, Rince Electrum, watchman Gridley, White-Muzzle the worg, Percy Ringle the butler, Alice Kinsey , “Patch”, Heroes of the Lost Sword, Claire Conrad, Erist priest of Strider, Riselda owner of the Sage Mirror, Eedraxis,  Skin-Taker tribe, Kartak, Królewna & Bonifacja Trading Company, Hurmont Family, Androni Titus, Greasy dreadlocks woman, Lodestone Security, Kellgale Nickoslander, Beltian Kruin the Splithog Pauper, The King of Spiders, Auraluna Domiel, mother Hurk, Mazzmus Parmalee,  Helgan van Tankerstrum, Lightdancer, Bonder Greysmith, Pegwhistle Proudfoot, Lumbfoot Sheepskin, Lumber Consortium of Three Rivers, Hellerhad the Wizard, Forsaken Kin, Law Offices of Office of Glilcus and Stolo, Jey Rora, Colonel Tarl Ciarán, Mayor Baras Haldmeer, Rindol the Sage, Essa, eyeless hag, Baron Saltwheel, Baron Harmenkar, Colonel Tarl Ciarán’s wizard soldier, Victor, Beharri, Cebuano, Mayor Eryn, Chimera Trading Company, maker of the manacles, Calvados Eure, Law Offices of Lampblack and Brimstone, Peronell Missplitter, Nightmare Hag

Macendamandel 27 Year 888 (New Imperial Calendar) Part 1

The good news is with a town (village?  Hamlet?  Homlet? Gromlet?) the size of Gib’s Tor I had no problem finding the “house with the green door”.  Although house is a little grandiose term for what it is.  Shack on the other hand is somewhat too thin.  What’s between a house and a shack?  A cottage?  That seems like it should be out in the countryside.  A bungalow?  That seems like it should be on the beach.  I’ll call it a houselet.  I was at the houselet bright and early (and coldly, it’s chilly near the mountains) but not early enough to be the first visitor.  My first tip off that someone had been there before me was that my guide was dead on the floor in a sticky pool of blood.  My second clue is that the guy that killed him was sitting in a chair in the corner.  At least I assume it was the guy who did the killing since he had a blade held loosely in his hand that looked like it had been dripping blood onto the floor for a while.  I’m no master of arms but I think you’re supposed to clean your blade off after you use it, blood causes rust I hear. 

He was wearing a stylish red and black leather number, leather of course being the required apparel for assassins, and was sporting incongruously juvenile looking tousled hair and a thick chin-beard.  The reason he was holding his blade so loosely is because he was asleep.  He must have killed the guide and then sat down to wait for me to show up so he could kill me too and nodded off.  Probably because of poor timing – showing up too early.  Also there was a bottle of Cliff Face Rum on the mantle that didn’t do any favors for staying awake I would wager. 

I activated my Ring for invisibility, just in case, and then carefully and slowly took the bottle off the mantle and moved it to safety in my Bag.  It’s important to have priorities.  They I shot the assassin in the head from maybe a foot away.  I was expected the crossbow bolt to go right through his skill at that range but it barely even went in eight inches (if you know what I mean).  I think I need a better crossbow.  People often say they want to die in their sleep, I bet this isn’t what they’re thinking of when they said that.

I searched the houselet to see if my deceased guide had drawn a map to the tomb for some reason, like maybe he was forgetful, but there was nothing of interest.  There was barely anything of disinterest for that matter.  Also I saw no sign of any sick wife that was supposedly the reason he was working for a dream-traveling blood hag. 

I lay down on the bed for a while to see if the hag was going to contact me however she was contacting this guy but also to drink some rum. There were no further instructions but the rum was pretty good.  Eventually with a sigh I got up and headed to the outskirts of “town” where the goat-yurts were.  I figure that if anyone else knows where the tomb might be it’s the mountain people.  Unfortunately they didn’t seem to speak the King’s Tongue, Kostelos, or Northern.  Or maybe they were just stonewalling me, that’s a common tactic for these outsider types when they don’t want to talk to us normals.  I was standing by the goat-town trying to decide what to do next and I figured a little rum would help me think when I heard a voice.

“They speak their own language.”

The source of the voice was a short woman with a wild mop of orange hair leaning against one of the nearby buildings not made out of goatskin.  She had on a long dirty white work shirt that was tucked in only on one side and had a corset on over it.  She was wearing a belt but nevertheless had a sheathed sword just in her hand like she forgot (or couldn’t afford) the little thing that attaches the sheath to the belt.  In her other hand she had a foaming tankard.  She had a vivid scar (much uglier than mine) running from the side of her nose to her right ear and that nose was turning black at the tip – which if you’re not familiar is the sign of a perna addict.  Perna of course being a drug made from black lotus extract (you know the deadly poison) and pearl dust and some other stuff that forms a paste you snort up your nose.  Do it enough and your nose literally rots off your face.  And that’s why the term “noseless” has come to mean hopelessly hooked – as in “Grilliup has really lost his nose over that girl at Krony’s Old Time Harlotry and Café.”

“Eh, I think they understand more than they let on, they’re just playing possum.”

She took a drink, leaving foam on her mouth “Why would they do that?”

I shrugged “Why does anyone do anything?  Why are you holding your sword instead of attaching it to your belt?”

She nodded slightly and drained her mug, then hooking it onto her belt where the sword would go and holding her hand out with a flourish.

She patted the tankard tenderly “Swords are a copper a dozen but this is my baby, need to take care of her.  My shirt is untucked so I can scratch my stomach – I got a rash you see – everything I do is for a reason.  I’m very deliberate.”

“Why is your corset on the outside?  Also why would you even wear a corset with a loose shirt?  That defeats the entire purpose of crushing your ribs to look slender and mash your tits up.”

She frowned “Corset?  What are you . . .” she looked down and then scowled “well shit, where did that come from?”

“That’s a pretty impressive level of inebriation, corsetry isn’t the kind of thing you can forget normally.  Can you speak this language you mention?  I need a guide into the mountains.”

“I can, I’m half Daga myself.”

“What’s the other half?”

“Kostelos.”

“Which tribe?”

She grabbed her tankard off her belt which filled up with beer again all on its own “Oh, who can remember, there’s so many of them.”

I sighed “I used to have a magic flask like that that never ran out of booze.”

She winked “Hardcore drunk huh?” She put her hand to her mouth in a faux whisper “Me too.”

“Of course not, I can stop any time I want.  You want to do some translating for me?  Like I said I need to go into the mountains and I assume these are the people to get me there.”

She blew out a long breath and then idly scratched her scabby stomach “I don’t know, I have a lot on my plate right now.”

I took out the bottle of rum and looked at how much was left “There’s a . . . quarter of a bottle of Cliff Face in it for you.”

She licked her lips, seemingly involuntarily “Hmm . . . that’s good stuff.  I’ll do it, but I warn you the Daga don’t like me much on account of I’m half Kostelos.”

“Do they not get along?”

“Does anyone get along?”

Even though there were only a couple dozen goat-tents it seemed like it took forever for us to find the particular mountain people she was looking for.  Despite my obvious disinterest she explained that there are four clans (NOT tribes) of mountainfolk.  The dire wolf tribe is the most “civilized” and comes to trade ore and timber with the slightly less backwards folks of Gib’s Tor – which is probably why this place exists at all.  Some other group named after a mountain snake actually live at the base of mountain and are often mistaken for Kostelos, they’re true nomads that follow the herds of whatever herds around here.  They hate civilized folk and attack them whenever they can.  A third group named after some star or other lives up in the mountains and comes down only to raid and murder.  Another group named after a different kind of mountain snake live high up in the mountains and never come down, they avoid everyone as much as possible.   

“What are these people doing here if they’re so reclusive and warlike?”

“These are all dire wolf clansfolk here.”

“Then why did you even mention the other ones?”

“Just making conversation.”

When she found who she was looking for it was a big slab of a man who looked like a small mountain himself.  His shaggy hair and beard were as orange as hers so I assume it’s a relation of some kind – the fact that they started shouting violently at each other seconds into their conversation seems like confirmation of that.  Big shaggy’s fingers were twisted and mutilated like they’d been broken and healed poorly many times over.  Maybe that’s just what your hands look like when you climb rocks all the time.  Eventually he stomped back into his goat-hut, which was roughly the same size as him so maybe it’s actually a cloak, and “slammed” the flap down.

“That seemed like it went well.”

She took a long drink from her mug “You know how it is in negotiations, they always reject your first offer.”

“I feel like you should know where I want to go.  That’s seems important.”

“I thought you wanted to go into the mountains.”

“I do, but I have a specific destination in mind.”

“Oh.” She thought about it for a moment and then took another long drink “Yeah, I should probably know that.”

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Funds: 6919 gold

XP: 1,200,951

Inventory: Bag of Holding, +2 Distance Light Crossbow, traveling outfit, Ring of Invisibility, potion case, potions (Cure Light Wounds x3, Enlarge Person, Protection from Evil, Cure Moderate Wounds x4, Oil of Fire Trap, Rage, Invisibility x2) Blessed Robes, Vampire Hunter’s Cloak, +1 Mithril Holy Undead Bane Sword-Cane, shadow essence   

Revenge List: Duke Eaglevane, Piltis Swine, Rince Electrum, watchman Gridley, White-Muzzle the worg, Percy Ringle the butler, Alice Kinsey , “Patch”, Heroes of the Lost Sword, Claire Conrad, Erist priest of Strider, Riselda owner of the Sage Mirror, Eedraxis,  Skin-Taker tribe, Kartak, Królewna & Bonifacja Trading Company, Hurmont Family, Androni Titus, Greasy dreadlocks woman, Lodestone Security, Kellgale Nickoslander, Beltian Kruin the Splithog Pauper, The King of Spiders, Auraluna Domiel, mother Hurk, Mazzmus Parmalee,  Helgan van Tankerstrum, Lightdancer, Bonder Greysmith, Pegwhistle Proudfoot, Lumbfoot Sheepskin, Lumber Consortium of Three Rivers, Hellerhad the Wizard, Forsaken Kin, Law Offices of Office of Glilcus and Stolo, Jey Rora, Colonel Tarl Ciarán, Mayor Baras Haldmeer, Rindol the Sage, Essa, eyeless hag, Baron Saltwheel, Baron Harmenkar, Colonel Tarl Ciarán’s wizard soldier, Victor, Beharri, Cebuano, Mayor Eryn, Chimera Trading Company, maker of the manacles, Calvados Eure, Law Offices of Lampblack and Brimstone, Peronell Missplitter, Nightmare Hag

Macendamandel 26 Year 888 (New Imperial Calendar)

Today I saw a wildcat of some variety chasing after a hare.  They flashed across my path for just a few seconds before disappearing into the scrub.  At first it looked like they were going straight for the river before they turned off.  Hares and wildcats are both renowned leapers but I assume they can’t vault over a river.  That would have been something to see if they could.  Nature is awful and should all be cleared away to make room for more cities but there are some things we can learn from it.  When a cat pounces at a hare the hare doesn’t complain about how unfair life is, it doesn’t whine about its hard childhood, it doesn’t bemoan the fairness of the world.  It runs for its fucking life.  And if it gets away it goes back to nibbling on summer lilac, butterfly-bush, and orange eye – it doesn’t dwell on the fact that it was almost ripped to shreds by cat claws.

And the bushy tailed wildcat doesn’t worry about morality or agonize over what to do – it needs to eat so it attacks.  The end.  It either lives or dies by its own wits and strength.  Either it eats the hare or it starve to death.  It doesn’t worry about the hare and the hare’s hopes and dreams and it’s little hare children.  I does what it does do and it doesn’t worry about it.  Life on the ragged edge.  Clearly human life is a little more complicated than that of a cat or a hre but there are still some gems to be gleaned there.  Don’t dwell on the past.  Keep moving forward.  Don’t hesitate.  As my grandmother used to say if you have to sleep with a disgusting man waiting isn’t going to make him any less revolting – if anything the opposite.

Being exceptional is not normal by definition.  I made the decision to be this way. I made the conscious decision to act and become this.  When the chips were down and everything was against me it would have been easy, so easy, to slink away into the darkness and never be heard from again.  No one wants to be uncomfortable.  No one wants a real challenge.  No one wants to be afraid.  But that’s what I have to do to reach my goals.  I can trace most of the real problems I’ve created for myself to silence and hesitation. I didn’t speak up when I should have.  I didn’t take action when I needed to.

This is the kind of self-indulgent philosophizing that I become prone to when I’m alone for too long.  Is there anything more ridiculous than talking about being decisive and taking action?  Thankfully shortly before sundown I trudged into Gib’s Tor.  It’s a nothing town on the ass end of nowhere (which to be fair is the more interesting end of nowhere) but at least there are some people here.   It was significantly bigger than I was expecting though – there were probably more than THIRTY buildings.  And it wasn’t a one horse town because I saw a stable that had four horses in it.  Adding to the mix were several Kostelos tents, Ples Del’mer wagons, and some kind of dome-shaped things made from mountain goat hides that must be the home of choice for the mountain people. It was a real hodge-podge of humanity.  Had quite the frontier feel to it. 

The hag had told me to meet “her man” here and no other details were worth forthcoming about who this person might be or how to contact them.  But first things first, I went to the tavern the soldier (sailor?  He was in the army but he was on a boat.  I guess he was a marine?) had told me about and ordered some of their “pretty good” brandy.  It was in fact pretty good.  The food was slop but at least it was warm slop.  That’s another thing to hate about travel, you get so sick of dried salted meat that you’re glad to have warm slop.  I got a few mildly curious glances being a woman traveling alone, but there was a time when every eye would have been on me – and lingered too.  Because I would have been looking like the nobbiest nob from nob hill.  Now I just look like another drifter, a devastatingly pretty drifter obviously, but still just a drifter.  I blame the scar.  And the shabby clothing.  And the lack of bathing.  And everything else.   

Amazingly I saw someone I knew there.  She was older and dressed more plainly (sounds familiar) but I recognized the copper hair and smashed nose of Anies Peutre.  Last I knew she was minting counterfeit coins in Paladore, which is not the safest of professions, which is probably what ended her up here.  She was sitting at a table talking to a Kostelos with a fox-fur on his shoulders.  Funny how the same apparel can appeal to dirty barbarians and fancy rich ladies.  I was debating going up to talk to her and staying to continue drinking brandy (the brandy plan was getting a lot of support) when a fellow with short blonde hair and a sharp angular face wearing a ragbag of different clothes approached my table.  His voice was raspy like he had just climbed out of a coal mine.

“I’m to take you into the mountains.”

I gave him a once over “You’re the guy then?” He nodded “How did she get you?”

“Wife got sick.”

“How do you communicate with her?  Does she come to you in your dreams?”

“Come to my house tomorrow, it’s the one with the green door.  I’ll take you into the mountains.”

He started to turn “Wait.  Our mutual friend said that she needed me to take action because the other one – the one in the place you’re taking me – was gathering followers here in the real world.  Does she have her people in town?  What do you know about them?  What kind of shitstorm am I walking into here?”

He didn’t even turn fully around “I don’t know anything, I just know I’m to take you into the mountains.”

I smiled and dropped a sassy wink “Well you know one thing then don’t you?”

He walked out of the place without another word.  When I looked over Anies was gone as well.  Which is too bad, it would have nice to be able to gather a little intelligence about who might be in town and looking to stick a poison dagger in my flat taut and toned belly.  On the plus side I saw a group of people at a table in the corner playing cards with decent stacks of coins sitting around them.  I tossed back the last of my brandy and made my way over.

“Evening fellas.  Got room for one more?”

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Funds: 6919 gold

XP: 1,199,351

Inventory: Bag of Holding, +2 Distance Light Crossbow, traveling outfit, Ring of Invisibility, potion case, potions (Cure Light Wounds x3, Enlarge Person, Protection from Evil, Cure Moderate Wounds x2, Oil of Fire Trap, Rage) Blessed Robes, Vampire Hunter’s Cloak, +1 Mithril Holy Undead Bane Sword-Cane  

Revenge List: Duke Eaglevane, Piltis Swine, Rince Electrum, watchman Gridley, White-Muzzle the worg, Percy Ringle the butler, Alice Kinsey , “Patch”, Heroes of the Lost Sword, Claire Conrad, Erist priest of Strider, Riselda owner of the Sage Mirror, Eedraxis,  Skin-Taker tribe, Kartak, Królewna & Bonifacja Trading Company, Hurmont Family, Androni Titus, Greasy dreadlocks woman, Lodestone Security, Kellgale Nickoslander, Beltian Kruin the Splithog Pauper, The King of Spiders, Auraluna Domiel, mother Hurk, Mazzmus Parmalee,  Helgan van Tankerstrum, Lightdancer, Bonder Greysmith, Pegwhistle Proudfoot, Lumbfoot Sheepskin, Lumber Consortium of Three Rivers, Hellerhad the Wizard, Forsaken Kin, Law Offices of Office of Glilcus and Stolo, Jey Rora, Colonel Tarl Ciarán, Mayor Baras Haldmeer, Rindol the Sage, Essa, eyeless hag, Baron Saltwheel, Baron Harmenkar, Colonel Tarl Ciarán’s wizard soldier, Victor, Beharri, Cebuano, Mayor Eryn, Chimera Trading Company, maker of the manacles, Calvados Eure, Law Offices of Lampblack and Brimstone, Peronell Missplitter, Nightmare Hag

Macendamandel 25 Year 888 (New Imperial Calendar)

Yesterday’s swimming and beast-drowning reminded me of one of my grandmother’s favorite bits of wisdom – you can’t swim for someone else.  You can carry them for a little while but if they can’t swim on their own and you try to hand oto them all that happens is you both end up drowning.  I carried Martialla for a little while when we first met, but she could definitely swim on her own after that.  So why did she stick around?  If we had gone after Beltian Kruin right away she would have needed my help but not now.  After all the shit we went through now she’s fully capable of melting that skinny pigfucker to slag without even breaking a sweat.  While I’ve been slogging up this damn river she may have done it already.  He could be dead, which would cause a problem with my list.  But she stayed around because it’s always more fun to execute a degenerated piece of shit with your best buddy. 

I’m mildly disgusted with myself for mooning over her like a jilted lover but this isn’t anything I’ve experienced before.  I never had a friend so I never lost a friend.  I don’t know how to do it.  In my weakest of moments I think that maybe she’s just mad at me right now and we’ll cross paths again some day and then we’ll be friend again.  That feeling makes me more than mildly disgusted with myself because that’s like a child mewling for their parents to fix everything for them.  I did what I did and what happened happened, there’s no sense in being moody and emotional about it.  And yet, here I am doing just that.  Perhaps I haven’t hardened myself as much as I think.  I should work on that.

Another thing I need to work on is picking up the Gods damned pace getting to Gib’s Tor.  When I was sleeping last night I could tell that whatever dream shenanigans are going on my side is starting to lose their grip.  By my side of course I mean the horrible nightmare creature that wants to prolong my suffering instead of killing me now.  You know that.  I’ve only been headed upriver a few days now but it seems like forever.  I get this sentiment whenever I have to walk a long ways in the middle of fucking nowhere.  Why couldn’t the ancient empress had the good graces to die and have put her mortal remains in a more convenient location for me?   Just once I would like to be sent scaring off after some wild goose that happens to but just across town.  Just once.

Of course since I wanted to move quickly today it started raining.  Hard enough that I found some scabby hackberry trees to sit under and feel sorry for myself instead of forging ahead.  I wish I had some booze because nothing goes better with self-pity than alcohol.  I can’t even remember the last time I had a drink.  Now there’s a revolting development. So instead I enjoyed the lovely view of the new terrain that pops up after you cut down a forest.  Obnoxious little nettle bushes, heath, poppies, and other ugly crap like that.  There’s some kind of rule in nature that the tough hardy plants and animals are all unpleasant looking, makes you wonder how the fragile beautiful stuff makes it through.  Luckily for me I’m both tough and dazzlingly lovely.  Lucky for you too. 

The brown prickly landscape wasn’t improved at all by the rain turning everything to mud.  As the rain kept falling I saw hundreds of locust looking things crawling out of the wet earth to start scampering around.  Truly nature is a disgusting miracle.  As I sat there getting wetter, madder, and thirstier I realized that I was staring at something in the mud.  It was too straight to be anything natural but it was buried enough that I couldn’t tell exactly what it was.  I glared at it for a good hour before I decided to get even more soaked my leaving the dubious comfort of my gnarly trees to see what it was.  I feel like I have spent entirely too much time lately in wet clothing.  Maybe that’s to be expected while traveling along a river but it’s still putting me in a dour mood.

What I dug out of what was more of a slimy pile of rotten debris than mud was the remains of a fan – with the silk gone leaving just the wooden handle/case with a couple metal spines jutting out of it.  It almost looked like a weapon, something you’d snap open to stab someone in the face with.  That’s not a bad idea, whenever I get somewhere civilized again I should have a thing like this made that appears to be a collapsed fan but is actually a knife.  I’m surprised there’s not already something like that.  Although I suppose the makers of tricky hidden murder tools don’t usually craft them with women in mind.  Which is a real shame because women’s apparel has so many places to hide killing tools.  You could work a short blade into a corset easily enough.  For that matter if you made a magic corset that could fly onto a man that would probably kill them on the spot.  They’re fragile you know.

I saw a scrap of cloth in the mud that I thought might be part of the fan, I don’t know why I grabbed it because it’s not like it could be fixed, but I did.  It was not part of the fan, what it was was the sleeve of a dress – I know this on account of the hand that slurked out of the gunk when I pulled on the material.  At this juncture I’ve probably seen more dead bodies than a veteran soldier mustering out of the service after twenty years.  I have absolutely made more dead bodies than even the most bloodthirsty of army grunts.  I knew a fellow in Paladore that had fought in three major battles and had gone up the ladder in five sieges and he thought that he had probably killed thirty men.  I passed that mark in my first six months of exile I’d wager.  My point is that I’m not the kind to be rattled by a corpse.

Maybe it was just my mood, or maybe it was finding someone dead in all this slop, but for some reason this one really caught a hold of my insides and gave them a good squeeze.  I didn’t jump or scream or run away or anything, it just made me depressed.  I went back to my not-very-dry tree stand and sat down and just stared at that hand from across the way.  Here was a woman that had a life.  Hopes?  Maybe.  Dreams.  Maybe.  Fears and anxieties?  For certain.  Pain and hardship?  Definitely.  But maybe some good times too.  Someone had raised her up and kept her alive and put a lot of effort into making her a person and what became of it?  This definitely isn’t a grave – they don’t bury people face down in three inches of dirt – so probably someone killed her.  Or she just fell down because she was too tired or too hungry or too sad to go any further.  And that was it.  All that time and effort and resources come to nothing.

It’s almost enough to make you reconsider a life dedicated to revenge.  To give up your dreams of carnage and just resolve to live a life worth living – a life where you grab whatever happiness you can and let the past be the past.  Let go of your anger and become free to pursue whatever you want to do with your life.  Make things better if you want.  Help people if you want.  Be selfish and drunk if you want.  Do whatever you want to do.  Almost.

The longer I stared at that hand sticking up out of the ground the more it annoyed me.  I mean she didn’t even have a ring for me to loot.  Is that inconsiderate or what?

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Funds: 6922 gold

XP: 1,199,351

Inventory: Bag of Holding, +2 Distance Light Crossbow, traveling outfit, Ring of Invisibility, potion case, potions (Cure Light Wounds x3, Enlarge Person, Protection from Evil, Cure Moderate Wounds x2, Oil of Fire Trap, Rage) Blessed Robes, Vampire Hunter’s Cloak, +1 Mithril Holy Undead Bane Sword-Cane  

Revenge List: Duke Eaglevane, Piltis Swine, Rince Electrum, watchman Gridley, White-Muzzle the worg, Percy Ringle the butler, Alice Kinsey , “Patch”, Heroes of the Lost Sword, Claire Conrad, Erist priest of Strider, Riselda owner of the Sage Mirror, Eedraxis,  Skin-Taker tribe, Kartak, Królewna & Bonifacja Trading Company, Hurmont Family, Androni Titus, Greasy dreadlocks woman, Lodestone Security, Kellgale Nickoslander, Beltian Kruin the Splithog Pauper, The King of Spiders, Auraluna Domiel, mother Hurk, Mazzmus Parmalee,  Helgan van Tankerstrum, Lightdancer, Bonder Greysmith, Pegwhistle Proudfoot, Lumbfoot Sheepskin, Lumber Consortium of Three Rivers, Hellerhad the Wizard, Forsaken Kin, Law Offices of Office of Glilcus and Stolo, Jey Rora, Colonel Tarl Ciarán, Mayor Baras Haldmeer, Rindol the Sage, Essa, eyeless hag, Baron Saltwheel, Baron Harmenkar, Colonel Tarl Ciarán’s wizard soldier, Victor, Beharri, Cebuano, Mayor Eryn, Chimera Trading Company, maker of the manacles, Calvados Eure, Law Offices of Lampblack and Brimstone, Peronell Missplitter, Nightmare Hag

Macendamandel 24 Year 888 (New Imperial Calendar)

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.  I think that’s supposed to mean that things have gone from bad to worse.  But how else are you going to get out of a frying pan but for jumping into the flames?  Being in a fire sucks (sadly I know that for a fact) but you’re one step closer to getting out of the whole mess.  Things don’t have to get worse before they get better, but they usually do.  I bring this up because as I was traveling today an animal slash monster slash beast slash whatever came charging out of the brush at me.  Not sniffing around, not giving me a look, not growling or snorting, full on murder running at me. 

Even when a human runs at you with a weapon ready to kill you in a way it’s not fully intimidating because people aren’t very graceful runners, especially when they have an ax in their hand as well.  It takes a damn good bit of coordination to actually charge at someone with a weapon and hit them.  You ever see a group of untrained soldiers try it for the first time?  Fully half of them go down faster than etcetera etcetera etcetera crass sexual comment here.

But when a dangerous animal (or whatever) runs at you it’s pretty terrifying because they’re great at running and killing things while running.  That’s their whole deal.  I’ve seen dogs loosed at people, I’ve done it myself a time or two, it’s obscene how strong and fast they are.  The thing that came me was doggish but with strong overtones of boar and weasel as well as deer-ears just to round things out.  It was lanky and somewhat ill-formed looking to the eye like a greyhound or a cheetah but guess what greyhounds and cheetahs have in common.  They’re fucking fast.  Cheetahs are much faster though, I’ve seen the evidence.  I had a split second to react and what reaction was was to jump in the river. 

You maybe be thinking “Ela, that doesn’t seem like a good idea for several reasons – it can probably swim too and you’re not a good swimmer.  Plus just yesterday you saw a giant fish-monster in that very river.”  Too true, too true.  But what you have to figure is that if I lose half my speed in the water and the boar-dog-weasel does as well it’s losing a lot more than I am.  If you have a thousand men and your enemy has ten thousand and you have an attack that will cost you both half your men you definitely should do it.  But you’re still outnumbered ten to one you say?  Sure, but you’re only outnumbered by forty-five hundred instead of nine thousand.  This is the kind of math you have to think about when you’re always on the short end of the stick like I am.  It’s amazing that I always manage to triumph given the odds against me every step of the way.

As for potential river monsters, well better the devil you don’t know.  That’s the expression right?  That long strange body that was so great at running was less great at swimming.  It was still gaining on me in the river, but it was at a much slower rate.  I was right is what I’m saying.  As it closed in I realized another good reason to be in the water – I, as a human being (a glorious example of one but still just a human woman) have hands.  It was surprisingly easy to turn and push the beast’s head under water as it came at me.  It thrashed around some, but it was rather simple to down it – I’ll have to remember that for future encounters.  One of the advantages of being a biped.  Thanks primitive humans who decided to stand upright, if you weren’t already dead already I’d really owe you one. 

The bad news, because per the laws of reality nothing can ever be an unmitigated success for me, is that during the drowning time I was swept a goodly ways down river.  It was probably more than a mile.  I’ve said it before but you always underestimate how strong the current in a river could be.  It took me maybe another half a mile of being swept to paddle to land.  When I managed to pull myself up onto shore I saw that I wasn’t alone.  Standing on the riverbank was woman with a sun-burned face despite her broad black hat wearing strange puffy pants and a ragged white shirt that looked several sizes too big for her.  Or maybe she just lost a lot of weight recently – in the upper body.  Framing her peeling face was long dark hair that looked to be both tangled and in need of a good washing.  She seemed decidedly uncurious about a woman climbing out of the river.

I nodded at her “Thanks for helping me out there.  I really appreciate it.”

“Is that a cape?”

“It’s a cloak, for hunting vampires.  Vampire are the ones that wear capes, the people that hunt them wear cloaks.  Vampires hold their capes out like wings to turn into bats, vampire hunters wear cloaks so they can wrap them around themselves and turn into shaggy mountain dogs.”

“Is that a true story?”

“It’s certainly true that it’s a story.  What brings you out this way?  You don’t look like a Kostelos horsewoman.  Did you try to commit suicide and then get swept upriver to become a priestess to a minor God?  Or are you from the convent?  Or are you from the military ship?  For a land that’s supposed to be empty I seem to be running into a lot of people.”

“Neva Firare.”

“What’s that?  That doesn’t tell me anything.”

“That me, that’s my name.”

“Huh.  Sounds like an Ulpine name.” She nodded “Are you Ulpinese?” She nodded again “Oh.  I feel like we should battle then or something since our countries are at war.  Although we’re both civilians so I’m not sure what the protocol is.”

She looked around “Am I in the Kingdom now?”

“You sure are.  At least I think that you are, I haven’t seen a map recently, but I heard that we won a big victory that knocked you dirty reject barbarians out of the war so it seems unlikely that you would have seized territory this far north.”

She continued to peer at landmarks “I was told that we were winning the war.”

“That’s propaganda for you, I can assure you that you’re not though.  My government tells me the truth.”

“That’s disconcerting.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for my husband.  What were you doing in the river?”

“Drowning a deadly beast.  In addition to being a vampire hunter I’m also a general slayer of monsters.  And a spycatcher, but don’t worry I only catch Vieland spies.  Frankly I was told that the Ulpine were too stupid and primitive to have an espionage arm.  No offense.”

“None taken.”

“You’re not a spy are you?”

“Not that I know of.  Was the beast you killed something like a wolf?  I was just at a village where they were saying everyone was being killed by a canine beast that was something like a wolf.  Only longer.  And immune to arrows they said.”

“It was something like a wolf.  Good thing I drowned it instead of trying to shoot it eh?  You think they would pony up a reward of some kind for killing it?  A reward worth finding and dragging the carcass out of the water?”

She shrugged “It didn’t seem like they had much to give anyone, even themselves.  There’s not a lot out here for them to have to give.  Makes you wonder why we’re even fighting over this land.”

“That’s just how nations pass the time, it’s like knitting for people, or getting drunk – it’s a hobby.  I mean what else are they going to do?  Public works projects?  So what’s the story with your husband?  Is he a soldier?”

She shook her head “No, but they sent him to fight anyway.  I got letters for the first few months, then after the Battle of Gevudan I didn’t hear from him anymore.  I thought he was killed or captured or maybe just lost.  I don’t know what I thought, I just want to find him.”

“Gevudan?  There’s been no battle there, also that’s a ways to the south.  How long ago did the letters stop coming?”

“How long has the war being going on now?”

“Difficult to say exactly when the previous war ended and this one got spun up but I’d say at least three years now.  Give or take.”

“Probably about two years then.”

“And you’ve been wandering around the border all this time?!”

“It’s been . . . . . difficult.”

“I would fucking imagine!”

I was thinking how mad she must be when I realized that I didn’t have to imagine, I had been wandering around for almost two years myself.  And even though her husband is one hundred percent likely dead her quest is probably less of a longshot than mine is.  It’s an odd feeling when you’re about to judge someone very harshly and then realize that their behavior is the same as yours almost exactly.   Self-awareness, it’s a sneaky bitch.

“Well, good luck finding your husband I guess.  You must really love him huh?”

“Actually he’s an asshole, I just didn’t know what else to do.”

“Good Gods woman, that is about the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard.”

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Funds: 6922 gold

XP: 1,199,351

Inventory: Bag of Holding, +2 Distance Light Crossbow, traveling outfit, Ring of Invisibility, potion case, potions (Cure Light Wounds x3, Enlarge Person, Protection from Evil, Cure Moderate Wounds x2, Oil of Fire Trap, Rage) Blessed Robes, Vampire Hunter’s Cloak, +1 Mithril Holy Undead Bane Sword-Cane  

Revenge List: Duke Eaglevane, Piltis Swine, Rince Electrum, watchman Gridley, White-Muzzle the worg, Percy Ringle the butler, Alice Kinsey , “Patch”, Heroes of the Lost Sword, Claire Conrad, Erist priest of Strider, Riselda owner of the Sage Mirror, Eedraxis,  Skin-Taker tribe, Kartak, Królewna & Bonifacja Trading Company, Hurmont Family, Androni Titus, Greasy dreadlocks woman, Lodestone Security, Kellgale Nickoslander, Beltian Kruin the Splithog Pauper, The King of Spiders, Auraluna Domiel, mother Hurk, Mazzmus Parmalee,  Helgan van Tankerstrum, Lightdancer, Bonder Greysmith, Pegwhistle Proudfoot, Lumbfoot Sheepskin, Lumber Consortium of Three Rivers, Hellerhad the Wizard, Forsaken Kin, Law Offices of Office of Glilcus and Stolo, Jey Rora, Colonel Tarl Ciarán, Mayor Baras Haldmeer, Rindol the Sage, Essa, eyeless hag, Baron Saltwheel, Baron Harmenkar, Colonel Tarl Ciarán’s wizard soldier, Victor, Beharri, Cebuano, Mayor Eryn, Chimera Trading Company, maker of the manacles, Calvados Eure, Law Offices of Lampblack and Brimstone, Peronell Missplitter, Nightmare Hag

Out of character interlude – magic items

I was accused of being “a little down” last night. I denied it but maybe it’s true because I don’t feel like writing anything today. But I am required to by the terms of my probation so here’s some magic items Ela picked up. You know, in case you still play an outdated version of an RPG that’s getting blown away by 5th edition D&D and you’re not satisfied with the 17 zillion magic items that already exist. As a special treat they have no prices or requirements to make them!

Remember the card game Rage? I do. It was great.

Blessed Robes

+5 Armor bonus to AC

When struck by a critical hit or sneak attack, the wearer can spend an immediate action to negate the critical hit or sneak attack (similar to the fortification armor special ability, but without requiring a roll). The damage is instead rolled normally. This ability functions once per day.

Melee weapons wielded by the wearer strike true against evil foes. The weapon is treated as having a +1 enhancement bonus for the purpose of bypassing the DR of evil creatures or striking evil incorporeal creatures (though the spell doesn’t grant an actual enhancement bonus). The weapon also becomes good-aligned, which means it can bypass the DR of certain creatures. (This effect overrides and suppresses any other alignment the weapon might have.)

Vampire Hunter’s Cloak

The wearer gains a +2 resistance bonus on all saving throws against negative energy and level drain, and whenever he makes a Fortitude save to recover from a negative level, he may roll the save twice, taking the better of the two results as the actual result.

Once per day, the wearer can target an undead creature with a halt undead effect (Will DC 14 negates) as a swift action.

The wearer can infuse a single melee weapon she wields with the purifying light of the sun as a swift action for up to ten rounds per day. These rounds do not need to be consecutive. While a weapon is infused with the sun, it deals +1d6 points of damage to any undead creature that is susceptible or vulnerable to sunlight, such as specters, vampires, and wraiths. A weapon infused with sun strike sheds illumination as if it were a sunrod.

Macendamandel 23 Year 888 (New Imperial Calendar)

Of the many cold shoulders I’ve gotten over the last two years this one ranks as the most discourteous.  I kill two vampires for these religious broads and they turn me out without so much as a how do you do?  Disgraceful.  Sure killing the vampires was easy but that’s because I’m magnificent.  My magnificence shouldn’t be held against me.  Lashmi abandoning me is no big deal, she was a Striderian after all so what else would I have expected?  In truth I’m lucky that she didn’t try to kill me to win favor with her stupid shabby itinerate God.  I mean seriously, what kind of occupation for a deity is traveler?  Of course that ignores the even more interesting question of why Gods should have occupations at all.  Does Demuren need to pay rent?  Does Eltara need some scratch because she has an eye on whatever the forge-God makes and sells?  Gods with jobs, there’s a horrifying concept that no one seems to understand – if the Gods have to work for a living eternally what hope is there for us?

Some say that death cancels all debts, but the priests of Odobenine and their Church of Deals goes quite the opposite way – to that faith there is no greater sin than dying with your debts unpaid.  A sin that is punished with many lifetimes worth of servitude in the afterlife.  It almost makes you think that Odobenine must be right because no person would create a mythos so bleak.  No sane person anyway.  The problem with insane people is they always catch you off guard because you can’t even imagine what they think.  It’s like when Haimatt fought the Master of Many on the Bridge of Kumort – at first the Master was able to block Haimatt’s every attack because he was so skilled at reading the intentions of his opponents.  Haimatt was only able to prevail when he unleashed the madness inside him and attacked without thought or pattern.

But all that mumbo-jumbo is neither here nor there (nor anywhere else) what’s real is that I am heading north along the Pipestone alone heading towards Gib’s Tor.  I never thought of myself as one of those people that needs to be around other people – back at court I was never happy, but I was always less unhappy when I was alone.  But that was an entirely different situation.  I find now that trudging alone through the deforested wilderness gives me time to think and that’s not entirely welcome.  Too much time to think turns to pointless rumination about what should be or what could have been done.  And that manner self-flagellation does no good for anyone, except the religious types maybe.  What is is what is and you just have to deal with it and move forward.  There’s nothing for it. 

Early in the morning I saw some Kostelos riders watching me far off to the northeast.  Despite the good chance of decapitation I almost wished they would approach me just so I could have someone to talk too.  Plus I might get a horse out of the deal.  They were shaggy wild little things but I didn’t even know there were Kostelos that husbanded horses so that’s something.  They didn’t come anywhere near me though, they watched for more than an hour probably and then rode off.  That was the extent of the morning’s entertainment but things got interesting again later in the day. 

From a goodly distance off I saw a ship up ahead.  As I got closer I realized that it wasn’t moving.  As I got closer still I realized that it was canted off center a good fifteen degrees or so.  I assumed it was hung up on a reef (do they have those in rivers?) or rocks or whatever boats get hung up on in rivers but as I got closer still I saw that one side of the hull was staved in and protruding from that side was a massive fish.  It was the size of a small watercraft itself and it was covered with hard scales like a crocodile as well as seemingly random boney knobs. 

There were men in the water and on both banks, and more men climbing all over the ship as well – carrying supplies to the shore and hauling on ropes and generally shouting and cursing at one another.  Some folks on the east shore were pulling on strands attached around the tail of the beast and with a last heave pulled it free to reveal that the piscine abomination had horns like a bull.  Out of the many strange beings I’ve seen you wouldn’t think that a fish with horns would rate that high but it was the damndest sight.

When the colossal fish was pulled free I expected the ship to dramatically shift as a result and send men on the deck flying but it didn’t move at all that I could tell – must be run aground as well as fish-rammed.  What did happen is the river was dyed dark as the bloody head of the dead creature was yanked free to run into the water.  I approached the dozen or so shirtless and/or waterlogged men loitering on the east bank watching while other men continued to work and dipping cups into a barrel.  Said shirts, hung out to dry or clinging to their owners, were those of the King’s Own.  Or Queen’s I guess.  Royal soldiers is the point.  I directed my remarks to a mustachioed fellow who though bare-chested had his cap on, I took this to mean he was in charge.  Hats equal authority eight times out of eleven.

“Having some trouble with your ship?”

He glanced at the listing holed boat in the middle of the river “No, no trouble, why do you ask?”

“I noticed that your flag was flying upside down, I thought that was a signal for help.”

He grinned “Come running to help us poor lads did you?”

“I could do no less, every citizen of the Kingdom must do their part and so forth and so on.  What are the King’s men doing on this desolate patch of river?”

“Don’t you mean Queen’s?”

“Haven’t you heard?  She’s remarried thank the Gods.  Can’t have a woman in control of the country can we?  What would become of us?  Here’s what you’d get with a woman running the Kingdom.  Murder.  All the time.  Everyone’s going to be murdering each other.  And mail fraid.  Your wives will lose their virtue, having sex willy-nilly all over the place with lots of different men.”

“Thank goodness that’s over.  What we’re doing here is patrolling the river in case the Ulpine or the Vielanders try to sneak an army in by river.”

“Given that there’s an army of Vielanders sneaking in through the Lodge Forest right now that seems pretty unlikely – especially with all the great victories we keep hearing about our side winning.  How many armies can they have left at this point?”

“I always sat the best place to look for the enemy is where they aren’t.  You never know what kind of devious schemes our enemies are capable of, it’s only through our courage and the grace of the Gods that we’re still here at all – surrounded my enemies like we are, both at home and abroad.”

“Wise words.”

“And what are you doing out here that you were able to rush to our aid with such alacrity?”

“Hunting vampires.  I’m a famous vampire hunter, you’ve probably heard of me – Baroness Cisastasia Sarovna tussenvoegsel Cobradefreytagy.  Just yesterday I killed two vampires at a convent down the river.”

He touched two muddy fingers to his forehead “My Lady.”

“No, no, please, no reason to stand on ceremony.”

“Vampire hunting sounds like an even worse line of work than soldiering, how does one get into that field?”

“Oh, it’s a family thing.  My grandfather was a successful vampire hunter and he passed on the business to my father.  My brother was all set to take over when he choked on a clove of garlic ironically, what else could I do but step into the breach?  I had to give up a very promising career as an opera singer don’t you know, but family comes first.” 

“A most noble of sacrifices.  How many vampires have you killed?”

I gave a world-weary sigh “Oh, I used to keep track when I first started, I even had all their vampire skulls in a room in my basement all organized and documented with the tale of their destruction. But after the first fifty or so it becomes a blur, you know how it is with work, after a while you don’t pay close attention anymore.  Hundreds certainly.  Thousands perhaps at this point.  I’m undoubtedly the most prolific vampire killer the world has ever known.”

“Wow, that’s quite impressive.  Were they all vampires or did a couple normal people sneak in there?”

“That’s the nice thing about it, legally anyone I kill is classified as a vampire – liability reasons and so forth.  Can’t have my important work being interfered with now can we?”

He chuckled “Certainly not.”

“I’m heading to Gib’s Tor, looks like once you’ve got this scow right-side up you’re heading downriver.” He nodded “Well then, I guess I can’t ask you for a ride.  Do you know anything about Gib’s Tor?”

“We stop there often.  There’s no vampires that I’ve noticed but I don’t have a professional eye for them like you.  It’s a nothing town on the ass-end of nowhere, not even sure why it is there.  Lot of half-orcs there for some reason.  I guess because there’s orcs in the mountains.  There’s a tavern there that has terrible whiskey, worse beer, and pretty good brandy.”

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a brandy drinker.”

He glanced at his foundering vessel “Well, as they say, any port in a storm eh?”  

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Funds: 6922 gold

XP: 1,196,951

Inventory: Bag of Holding, +2 Distance Light Crossbow, traveling outfit, Ring of Invisibility, potion case, potions (Cure Light Wounds x3, Enlarge Person, Protection from Evil, Cure Moderate Wounds x2, Oil of Fire Trap, Rage) Blessed Robes, Vampire Hunter’s Cloak, +1 Mithril Holy Undead Bane Sword-Cane  

Revenge List: Duke Eaglevane, Piltis Swine, Rince Electrum, watchman Gridley, White-Muzzle the worg, Percy Ringle the butler, Alice Kinsey , “Patch”, Heroes of the Lost Sword, Claire Conrad, Erist priest of Strider, Riselda owner of the Sage Mirror, Eedraxis,  Skin-Taker tribe, Kartak, Królewna & Bonifacja Trading Company, Hurmont Family, Androni Titus, Greasy dreadlocks woman, Lodestone Security, Kellgale Nickoslander, Beltian Kruin the Splithog Pauper, The King of Spiders, Auraluna Domiel, mother Hurk, Mazzmus Parmalee,  Helgan van Tankerstrum, Lightdancer, Bonder Greysmith, Pegwhistle Proudfoot, Lumbfoot Sheepskin, Lumber Consortium of Three Rivers, Hellerhad the Wizard, Forsaken Kin, Law Offices of Office of Glilcus and Stolo, Jey Rora, Colonel Tarl Ciarán, Mayor Baras Haldmeer, Rindol the Sage, Essa, eyeless hag, Baron Saltwheel, Baron Harmenkar, Colonel Tarl Ciarán’s wizard soldier, Victor, Beharri, Cebuano, Mayor Eryn, Chimera Trading Company, maker of the manacles, Calvados Eure, Law Offices of Lampblack and Brimstone, Peronell Missplitter, Nightmare Hag

Macendamandel 22 Year 888 (New Imperial Calendar) Part 3

This replacement Martialla isn’t working out well at all.  Lashmi doesn’t talk much and when she does she never has anything remotely interesting to say.  I expected her to at least have some entertaining and grotesque and gruesome stories from her old days working the streets but she never talks about it.  It’s like she wants to forget being a sex worker or something.  I told her she should make a list of all the clients she had that were particularly unpleasant and then enact some form of petty, or not so petty revenge, on them but she wasn’t the least bit interested.  What’s even worse though than her taciturnicty is that she doesn’t seem to realize how great all the stuff I’m saying is – and trust me what I’m saying is pure gold. 

Here’s a good example of why she probably isn’t going to pan out as my new sidekick.  Once I determined that we were dealing with a vampire I had the priestess superior roust all the nuns and herd them outside to see if any of them would burst into flames and die.  They even wheeled Sister Agata out still strapped to her infirmary bed.  None of them did burst into flames, but it’s an overcast day so maybe a vampire is among them, best to keep an eye on them anyway.  I asked if anyone was missing and sure as shit they eventually figured out (took forever, I expected nuns to be more organized) that Sister Loke was not in the gathering.  For some reason they all thought this meant she had been killed by the vampire rather than that was the vampire.  People are strange. 

At this point is Lashmi suggested that we search the abbey, which is foolishness because clearly we need to search the crypts – where else is a vampire going to be hiding?  Martialla would have never suggested anything so stupid.  The priestess superior insisted that we would not be allowed into the catacombs under any circumstances while she continued to insist just as strenuously that there is no such thing as vampires.  I hate the part of the book where the protagonist is trying to convince everyone that they’re dealing with a vampire (or whatever) and everyone else insists on denying it even though all the evidence is in front of them.  Seemed unrealistic to me, but here I am.  I’m not even sure Lashmi believes there really is a vampire.  Martialla would be sharpening stakes right now.  She’d probably already have some pre-sharpened stakes in her bag.   

“Fine then, we won’t disturb the dead yet, but I reserve the right to disturbing the dead at a later time if need be.  Where do the secret passages go?  That’s maybe where the vampire is hiding if they aren’t in the crypts, which they are.”

The old priestess scowled “What secret passages?”

“There are always secret passages, you’re in charge you must know where they are.”

I looked to Lashmi for support but she stood like blank-faced like she knew nothing about secret passageway or that I’m always right about these things.  Martialla would have backed me up.

“Why would a religious order need secret passageways?”

“I don’t know, for secret lesbian love affairs, or to hide from the enemies of your seemingly ill-defined and amorphous faith, or from the old days when this was a fort – how should I know what you do with them?  I just know that they’re there.”

The old priestess got herself all ready to huff and puff about it, but another priestess (or nun or novice or whatever) a pink cheeked gal with massive smile-lines and a thick neck came forward to say that there were in fact two secret passageways.  I don’t know if the old broad was lying about it or if she just didn’t know – I couldn’t get a good read on it and I’m great at reading people.  This whole group of nuns is weird as Hells, even for nuns.  Cheeky Thick Neck led us to a tiny storage closet where you pushed on a panel to have a wall slide away and reveal a staircase.  I was in the middle of smiling smugly and about to annihilate the good superior with a brutal comment about how I was right when a form lunging out of darkness knocked me to the ground.

“Oh shit!”

That’s apparently what I say when I’m tackled to the ground by a blood-drinking nun (or novice or whatever).  I didn’t get a good look at her when she was hurling herself at me, but she looked small – like barely five feet maybe – but she was strong.  Not strong as a bull, more like something that’s good at wrestling.  Something that can use it’s forelimbs to grapple you.  Like a bear.  But not as strong as a bear.  She was as strong as a small bear.  Not a baby bear, but like a sub-adult bear.   Unlike a sub-adult bear though she was hissing like a bat and biting at me like a rabid wombat.  She wanted my blood bad.  I was able to hold her biting face away from my very fetching neck and was surely just about to make my move to turn things in my favor when Lashmi splattered the vampire nun’s head-goo all over my face with her hand ax.  That much at least was very similar to something Martialla would have done.

I heaved the corpse off me and spat out some eyeball jelly “Thanks.” I clambered to my feet and looked down at the now mostly headless corpse “Huh, I thought they turned into mist or something when you killed them.”

The old priestess and Cheeky were horrified “Sister Reesblout!”

“I thought you said Sister Loke was the one that was missing.”

They looked at each other “Sister Reesblout must have been missing too.  I don’t remember seeing her.”

“What kind of operation are you running here?  Don’t you even know who’s on the roster?”

Lashmi crouched down to look at the ax-hole “So was she a vampire or what did I just kill?”

I grabbed a mop sitting nearby and used it to soak up some of the nun-sludge on me “Of course she was a vampire, did you see the way she lunged at my carotid?”

All the color had drained from Cheeky’s face “Maybe she was hiding in there from the vampire and just got startled.”

Oldy was resolute “There’s no such thing as vampires.”

“She was a vampire Gods damn it!  You don’t try to bite someone’s neck because you’re scared!”

Lashmi and I went down the stairs which led to a very short tunnel that came to another staircase that led up and through another panel into a hallway by the dormitories.  I feel like Cheeky could have told us that it didn’t really lead anywhere.  I turned to Lashmi as we walked back around to the supply closet.

“You know in Morinly some vampires took over a bordello and were killing the people that visited it.  What I don’t understand is how they got away with it for so long.  Didn’t anyone notice that all the whoremongers were disappearing?” I wait a moment for a response “Do you have any thoughts on that?”

“Huh?  Uh, no, I guess not.”

“You don’t think that’s strange?  How do you think they were getting away with it?  A whole nest of vampires had to be killing a lot of people don’t you think?  Granted a lot of them were probably people that no one would miss but plenty of married men go to brothels, I think at least some of the wives would wonder why their husbands never came home.”

“Yeah, I don’t know.”

“Good Gods woman, I’m trying to make conversation here, give me something.”

She didn’t.  We met back up with the two nuns and Cheeky led us into the head priestesses own office, much to her surprise and shock.  Pushing back the desk and pulling out the rug there was a trapdoor underneath.  We were greeted by a blast of cold air when the trapdoor was thrown up.

I look at the old priestess “You ever notice any vampires or giant rats crawling out of here when you were working?”

Lashmi cast a suspicious eye at Cheeky “How do you know about this?”

“There’s a map in the library.” After a beat “I’m the librarian.”

I leaned over the hole slightly “There’s a light down there, do vampires need light to see? Seem like they shouldn’t.  Well, let’s go kill the damn thing, I suppose the rats will still be here but maybe without the vampire around they’ll wander off.”

Lashmi looked around nervously “Doesn’t it seem strange that we haven’t seen any rats?”

I pointed “They’re probably all down there.  Or out in the courtyard killing all the nuns.”  I put my hand to my ear “I don’t hear any screaming though, I feel like if you were a nun being eaten by giant rats you’d scream a lot.” I drew a rapier from my secret pocket “Anyway, let’s hit it New Martialla.”

“What?”

“Just go.”

At the bottom of the stairs was a large round room with a small pillar or pedestal in the middle.  On the pedestal pillar was a wildly incongruous little pillow that had a deep indentation in it as if something had been sitting on it for years and years.  Standing nearby in a bloody white nightshirt was a raven-haired young woman who was ghostly pale and clutching a skull to her chest like it was a newborn babe. 

“Well this is unsettling.  You would be Sister Loke them I presume?”

She smiled, overly large fangs glimmering in the lantern light, speaking in hushed towns like we were trading secrets at the opera “You want it don’t you?  You came for it didn’t you?  Well you can’t have it!”

“Uh no, I’m good on skulls, we just . . .”

Her fangs, already appearing too large to even shut her mouth lengthened and her eyes seems to shift shapes “YOU CAN’T HAVE IT!!!!!!!!!”

I was ready for the lunge this time and shoved Lashmi in the way.  Maybe you think that’s a dick move, but she’s a priestess alright, why wasn’t she confronting the vampire with her holy symbol?  What is the holy symbol of Strider anyway?  I feel like it’s a boot and a walking stick maybe.  Sometime dumb like that.  Sister Loke and Lashmi went down in a heap and I carefully stabbed Loke through the kidney.  She screamed and flailed around a lot and what seemed like eighteen gallons of blood came out of her but she died all the same.  The skull clattered out of her hands and rattled to a stop as if was looking at me – jawless but with two large fangs on the top row of teeth.

“Huh, I though vampires were supposed to be harder to kill.  What keeps the teeth in a skull after the body is dead anyway?  Shouldn’t that root rot away?  It’s not bone is it, it’s like whatever your gums are made of?”

Lashmi finally managed to yank one of her hatchets free and seemed to be brandishing it at me “What the fuck was that?!”

“A vampire obviously, maybe they’re weak at first and they get stronger over time.”

“NO!  You fucking pushed me into her!”

“Yeah, I needed a distraction so I could backstab her.  Calm down, Martialla and I used to do it all the time.”

“Who the fuck is Martialla?!”

I guess we’re not going to be friends at all since she left in a huff when I asked her to help me drag the body up the stairs for verification that it was Sister Loke.  Have you ever tried to drag a dead body UP a staircase by yourself?  Try it sometime and then tell me it’s not next to impossible.  The old priestess confirmed that it was indeed poor Sister Loke and then after much badgering did a role call to make sure no one else was missing.  I guess it was just the two vampires then.  Or whatever they were.  I never did see any rats.  I wonder what that’s about.  Maybe the Pied Piper of Illmarsh lured them away. 

When I asked for a little something for the effort the good sisters invoked the whole vow of poverty thing, which doesn’t make a ton of sense since this place itself has to be worth a fortune.  Cheeky did show me to yet another secret room though, where the gear of an old hero who had died in their care was hidden away. Seems like the kind of stuff that would have been helpful to get my hands on before fighting a horde (two is a small horde) of vampires.  When I asked why they had a vampire skull sitting on a pillow in a special hidden room they all but gave me the bum’s rush.  They didn’t even invite me to stay the night or feed me.  That’s gratitude for you.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Funds: 6922 gold

XP: 1,196,951

Inventory: Bag of Holding, +2 Distance Light Crossbow, traveling outfit, Ring of Invisibility, potion case, potions (Cure Light Wounds x3, Enlarge Person, Protection from Evil, Cure Moderate Wounds x2, Oil of Fire Trap, Rage) Blessed Robes, Vampire Hunter’s Cloak, +1 Mithril Holy Undead Bane Sword-Cane  

Revenge List: Duke Eaglevane, Piltis Swine, Rince Electrum, watchman Gridley, White-Muzzle the worg, Percy Ringle the butler, Alice Kinsey , “Patch”, Heroes of the Lost Sword, Claire Conrad, Erist priest of Strider, Riselda owner of the Sage Mirror, Eedraxis,  Skin-Taker tribe, Kartak, Królewna & Bonifacja Trading Company, Hurmont Family, Androni Titus, Greasy dreadlocks woman, Lodestone Security, Kellgale Nickoslander, Beltian Kruin the Splithog Pauper, The King of Spiders, Auraluna Domiel, mother Hurk, Mazzmus Parmalee,  Helgan van Tankerstrum, Lightdancer, Bonder Greysmith, Pegwhistle Proudfoot, Lumbfoot Sheepskin, Lumber Consortium of Three Rivers, Hellerhad the Wizard, Forsaken Kin, Law Offices of Office of Glilcus and Stolo, Jey Rora, Colonel Tarl Ciarán, Mayor Baras Haldmeer, Rindol the Sage, Essa, eyeless hag, Baron Saltwheel, Baron Harmenkar, Colonel Tarl Ciarán’s wizard soldier, Victor, Beharri, Cebuano, Mayor Eryn, Chimera Trading Company, maker of the manacles, Calvados Eure, Law Offices of Lampblack and Brimstone, Peronell Missplitter, Nightmare Hag