No safety or surprise

Remember at the end of Planet of the Apes where Charlton Heston (I just realized for the first time what a weird name Charlton is) sees the Statue of Liberty on the beach and he freaks out because seeing that let him know that they “blew it all up”?  Something like that would be helpful.  When we go outside, there’s no reason not to just assume that Placerville had been abandoned.  There’s nothing that says “clearly the apocalypse happened”. 

You could say that the air quality should be a tip off, what with the haze and the throat stinging, but it’s California right?  There’s always a wildfire somewhere it seems, plus all the pollution.  Maybe the fact that our phones had no signal should be a tip off, but we always have crappy reception out of the city anyway.  When the phone in the clinic didn’t work, that doesn’t even really help us know that the world has ended because if the place had been abandoned, there’s no reason it should have worked, right?  Same thing with the water. 

Plus there’s this to consider.  Have you ever been cryogenically frozen?  It makes everything all fuzzy.  Even when that pod opens up, it takes a long time to get your head in the game.  It was probably three hours before I felt like I could even sit up.  I don’t know how long it was after that before I was clear headed enough to wake up Martialla. 

There’s a storage room where we found some half faceplate masks with a bunch of filters, I assume they used those when they were handling whatever chemicals you use to freeze old dead dudes.  According to the back of the box, the filters will only last eight hours in “very dusty” environments, which I am going to say the death-air outside is. Going through six a day is going to eat them up pretty fast.  There’s an unopened pack of one hundred and maybe thirty in an opened box.  That’s three weeks if we’re both outside all the time.   

Whoever was living here while we were on ice had stockpiled a huge amount of bottled water, no loose bottles but pallets like you see in a warehouse, where did they get those and how did they get them here?  But out of that, there were only about three hundred left.  Martialla says we’re going to have to boil them before we drink them even though they’re sealed.  And even then she doesn’t sound super confident that it’s totally safe.  Can you get by on two bottles of water a day?  Assume we can, that’s ten weeks of water, give or take. 

Food is basically nil.  There’s a pile of unopened cans but there’s nothing inside them but black flakes of scrud.  I thought canned food lasted forever.  I guess not.  We do have a plastic crate of assorted energy bars, two dozen or so, that seem fine.  Which is mildly disturbing.  Martialla said that some energy bars are just a solid brick of preservatives so they last a really long time.   

She also said that as long as they don’t get wet, guns and ammo basically last forever.  So the four handguns we found should work.  The knives and clubs certainly will if it comes to that.  I’m ninety percent sure I could shoot someone if I had to, but the image of that guy taking an axe to karate guy haunts me.  I’m not sure I can stab someone.  As we were going through the tedious process of boiling all the water and putting it back into the bottles, I started to have second thoughts. 

I looked at Martialla as she stacked up water bottles on the counter in the break room “I’m starting to have second thoughts.” 

“We need to find out what’s out there, you said so yourself.” 

“I know, that’s why I said SECOND thoughts.  We have no idea what we’re walking into out there.” 

Martialla paused her work to look me in the eye “Right, that’s why we need to find out.” 

I gestured “We have electricity here that is apparently apocalypse proof.” 

“What good is that?  What we need is food and water, whatever kind of geothermal rig they have going on here doesn’t help us with either of those things.  I mean unless you want to play minesweeper, the computers’ electricity doesn’t help us.” 

“There’s like fifty frozen guys back there.” 

Martialla stopped to think for a moment “Cannibalism?” 

I nodded “Cannibalism.” 

She shook her head and went back to packing “Even if we knew how to thaw them out, I don’t know if you’d want to eat someone who was cryogenically frozen.  They’re probably full of antifreeze or something.” 

“What about water?  If you turn up the freezer enough you get frost, right?  Can we rig up something to make ice that we can melt for water?” 

She gave me an appraising look “Can you?  Because I am not an electrician or an engineer, I don’t know how any of this equipment works.  I have no idea how to turn electricity into water.  I wish I fucking did.  I know you feel safe here Ela, but we can’t stay.  All we can do here is waste the supplies we do have waiting for nothing.” 

“Maybe we could wake someone else up, strength in numbers.” 

“They’re all dead Ela, that’s how cryogenics works.  They freeze you after you die because it’s bullshit.” 

I held my arms out wide “How can you say that?  We’re here!  It worked!” 

Martialla got a stubborn look “But the cell walls . . .” I made a disgusted noise and she moved on “Look, if you want to try and figure out if someone else was frozen while they were still alive and then how to unfreeze them, go nuts, but as soon as we get all this water ready to go,we have to move.” 

“We don’t have to leave leave though right?  We can explore and come back if we need to?” 

“Sure, we can check out Placerville and come back here maybe but that’s about it.  After that, we need to head for the highways.  Using up all our supplies investigating the three-mile radius around this hole in the ground isn’t going to net us anything.” 

“It just seems crazy to leave this place, it’s like a fortress!” 

“I thought you were the one who was thinking everything would be fine over the next hill, now you want to hunker down?  Make up your mind.” 

Montresor 11 Year 888 (New Imperial Calendar)

Halflings tend to the same size of livestock as everyone else so why would they make barns that are half the dimensions?  They don’t have special Halfling sheep the size of dogs.  Or do they?  No, no they don’t.  Don’t get me wrong, a half sized barn is still pretty big, I’m just saying that waking up in one is a little disorientating.  Did I grow to twelve feet tall is what you wonder until you figure it out.  I suppose the explanation is that shirefolk being so much small don’t raise as many animals and therefore they don’t need as much room?  Yeah, that makes sense, giants (if they had barns) would make them bigger even though their animals would be the same size because they need more of them.  Excepting cloudgoats of course which are very large indeed. 

Normally I’d be pretty upset about being tossed in a barn but I have a little touch of a soft spot for shirelings.  They’re so little and everyone is so mean to them and yet they still just cheerfully go about their business and overcome through perseverance.  You have to admire that in a heartbreaking kind of way – they got the short end of the stick (not a pun) and they don’t bellyache about it, they get to getting.  Not unlike myself.  Despite the fact that I am impressively tall, I have a lot in common with the smallfolk.  Which is probably why when I ran until I collapsed they came upon me and stuck me in a barn.  Which I don’t blame them for doing, it’s not like they could drag me into their little badger-hole homes. 

Moments after I crawled out of the half-sized barn a smiling welcome committee of Halflings were there to greet me with overflowing baskets of tea-cakes, banana oat muffins, lemon poppy seed cake, toast with jam, jam with toast, and enough other pasties and sweets to choke a mongoose.  They assumed I was Baroness Saltwheel on account of I had the Saltwheel staff of office clutched in my hand when they found me passed out in the dirt – and on account of my elegant clothing and noble manner.  You can’t blame them really.  I saw no reason to correct them.  They surmised appropriately that I had fled from the Saltwheel country manor due to violent unrest.  They clucked their tongues about the foibles of the bigfolk – always fighting and feuding when we should be getting down to drinking and eating and making merry.  They’re not wrong about that.

We were having a gay old time until my tattoos started shining through my clothing like a brilliant star.  Should I be happy that I have these to warn me, or is their very presence what it making these abominable things come after me?  It’s a chicken egg situation.  I stood up from my cross-legged position on the ground and dusted crumbs off my jackets (lucky birds!).

“Sorry my friends, but trouble is coming and I need to be on my way.  I don’t suppose you have a fast horse around here do you?  A fast horse suited for someone of my stature?”

They did not.  Did you know that the word sheriff comes from Halflings?  I didn’t, although I suppose I should have known – Halflings live in shires, hence shire reeve, contracted to sheriff.  Although they say it shirriff.  When I suggested a hasty departure the little folk wouldn’t hear of it – if there was danger the shirriff’s would protect me.  They were four little men wearing feathered hats, jackets, and waistcoats each with a stout club.  One of them was wearing a cravat for the Gods’ sake.  Now I know why I so often catch people off guard when it comes to combat – you don’t seem threatened at all in fancy clothing.

I told them that I appreciated it but this was trouble they couldn’t handle.  They wouldn’t hear of it – what kind of hosts would they be if they allowed me to come to harm?  My plan was to ignore them and run anyway, but it was already too late just with that small amount of back and forth.  A field of darkness appeared in the hilly meadow and out of it strode three forms.  Two I recognized from the carnage yesterday.  One was the horned man, although I saw then that what I thought was a robe the day before was in fact more of a leather jerkin and kirtle type scenario worn over trousers.  In one hand he held a short crooked stick carved with sigils and topped with what appeared to be a still functioning eyeball.  His other hand already danced with magical flame.

The second familiar face was one of the women I saw stark naked and covered with filth yesterday – now heavily garbed in a blue and purple robe and dress combination.  Makes sense, you wouldn’t want your cult robes to be damaged in battle.  She was startlingly white, pale as chalk she was, and she had some kind of crude writing tattooed on her arms and face.  She held in her hand a long staff topped with the skull and horns of a goat.  The newcomer with them had the appearance of a young nobleman, handsome as you like and dressed to the nines albeit with clothing that was several seasons out of fashion.  His boots in particular were immaculate and shiny.  The only thing ruining the effect was that nasty little human-faced rat monster clinging to the lapel of this overcoat.

I turned to the Halflings who were standing in shock at the dramatic appearance of the devilish trio “You need to run my friends.  Run and hide.  And don’t come out.”

The horned man sneered and rasped in the voice if a nightmare “Yesssssss, run away little morssssssssels!”

The woman all but rolled her eyes at him and the dandy fellow smiled apologetically, he spoke in that slow sleepy voice that some nobles affect for reasons unknown “Don’t mind him, he gets excited.  No one needs to get hurt, just give us the necklace.”

“Are you kidding me?  All this has been about that stupid ugly necklace?” I tossed the chunky crude thing at their feet “Here, you could have just asked, there was no reason to attack the Saltwheel house with your freak legion.”

The woman smiled as the sharp dressed man picked up the necklace and tucked it into his vest pocket “Freak legion, I like that, what better name for the brave fighting men and women of the dark goat of the woods?”

“Sounds like you’re done here, best be on your way, I’m sure you have all sorts of rituals you need to conduct involving goat piss and the blood of virgins and so forth.”

The dapper dandy mirrored his lady friend’s smile “Well, being totally honest, retrieving the necklace wasn’t our only reason for coming here.”

At this point the horned man released his magic fire in a Hellsish vortex of fiery death that would have engulfed me and burned me to death if not for the fact that the gold stitching on my Greatcoat flared to life and cancelled out his magic.  I’m not sure if I knew that it could do that.  Good purchase past Ela.  The magic absorption made the jacket sparkle in a pleasing way, it would have been a great time for witty quip if I was into that sort of thing, but the problem with real life fights to the death is your opponents never give you time to banter.  In the novels when the hero is fighting with the big bad guy there’s always several minutes between thrusts for them to trade insults and explain whose great-grandfather stole whose land and so on and so forth.  Murdering people in the real world is sadly allows for far less exposition.

Although I was doing very little murdering.  I shot with my crossbow once, which was deflected by a gust of wind and then pretty much the rest of the time I was running for my life, dodging and ducking and diving as they hurled spells at me.  It hardly seems fair to send three spellcasters to kill one normal person.  I suppose that’s the point though.  The horned man flew up into the sky and was lancing out with burning shafts of light all around me.  I feel like I could have shaken them and made a run for it without him hovering above and spotting me like hunting bird out no matter where I ran.  The woman with the ram-stick preferred summoning bolts of lightning at me but the dandy dresser was the real jack of all trades.  He summoned a wall of spinning blades, he blasted me with freezing wind, he summoned a massive rain of sleet, he had all manner of tricks up his fashionable sleeves. 

It wouldn’t even really be fair to call it a fight, it was more like a fox hunt – and if you know anything about fox hunts it’s that the fox never gets away.  I’ve said this once before but I’ll repeat it now because it’s probably the best advice I can give you about fighting, aside from don’t.  Only morons die like heroes – accepting their fate with a brave face.  When you’re been beaten like a dog act like a dog – beg, grovel, whine for mercy, show your belly.  Do whatever they want, offer them anything they want.  Do whatever humiliating revolting thing you need to do to gain yourself one more precious second of life.  You wouldn’t think that would work with these lunatics but they found my abasement amusing.  They stood smirking as I pleaded for my life.  They laughed when I offered them my womb for their twisted monster-babies.  They sneered as I cried so hard I choked and blew big bubbles of snot. 

And then they died when the earth beneath them opened up and they plummeted into the forty foot wide maw of a Shoddy Hills land serpent, also known to some as death worms, and until that very moment not something I thought existed.  Looking down its throat (do worms have throats?) in total shock it looked like a striated flesh-cave ringed with thousands of shark-teeth the size of my head.  My tormentors and their dirty rat friend were shredded as they were swallowed alive, being ripped to bloody shards in a manner of seconds.  The creature’s emergence had been so swift and sudden it threw up a cloud of dirt like the water from a breaching whale. As shocked as I was by its appearance I was even more stunned by what happened next.  That massive worm-maw closed, making it look like just a huge brown leather rope and the Halflings emerged to start patting its hide like it was a prize pig!  I swear to you one of them fed it a bushel of corn!

It took me several tries to find my voice “What . . . what . . . . just what?”

One of the shirriff (sans club) looked over at me “Oh this is just Sally.”


Behind the curtain: Ela hit level 17 taking another level of Rogue, making her Rogue 15/Master Spy 2 is anyone interested in the details of her leveling up?  Nah.  I’ve been playing pathfinder forever and I just found out there’s a Noble Scion prestige class.  I’m thinking about rebuilding her for that.  If nothing else I can get another rip-off OOC post out of it.   

Funds: 53,940 platinum, 27,309 gold

XP: 1,329,951

Inventory: +3 Thundering Distance Light Crossbow, Ela’s Fashionable Belt, Cerulean Sign Tattoo, Hat of Effortless Style, Ela’s Wonderful Flask, Ela’s Dazzling Garment,  Ring of Urban Grace, Black Marketers’ Bag (5), Tidy Trunk, Ela’s Elegant Boots, Ela’s Extravagant Necklace, Headband of Subtle Misdirection, Antiquarian’s Monocle, Ela’s Stately Greatcoat, Ring of Eloquence, Cheating Gloves, Clothier’s Closet Rod, Singer’s Stole, Saltwheel’s Cane 

Noble’s outfit (5) collegium ring,  pocketed scarf, wrist sheath, signet ring (2) assortment of fake signet rings, silver chain set with moonstones, gold and emerald ring (2), garnets (631), gold necklace with jade pendant, ivory combs, tax collector’s badge, gold bracelet with ivory inlays, silver necklace set with rubies, gold earrings with jade inlays, silver and gold brooch, silver necklace with ruby pendant, disguise kit, covenant ring, tiny diamonds (26), Saryah Phidaner gown, masterwork thieves’ tools, onyx (55) personal signet ring, diamond and pearl lover’s knot tiara,  Turnbill blade of first forging (one of three), darkwood and platinum music box, silver bracelet set with bloodstones, platinum ring set with fire opal, silver and moonstone bracelet, holy symbol of Kozilek, dwarf journal

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

Mathanaya 16-19 Year 888 (New Imperial Calendar)

Throughout the late afternoon and into the night yesterday more disordered former swine-minions returned to human form wandered up to the tree-home of the slain hags.  Rather than taking off immediately we stayed and even went out looking for more of them.  This seemed like a good idea at the time.  I should have known better.  There wasn’t a morsel of food to be found in the hag’s abode – nothing that would be considered food by those who aren’t utterly depraved anyway.  Even though it would only be two or three days to Bowcrag the idea of a march without provisions or shelter quickly turned their joy at being freed from their curse and hag-slavery to muttering and grumbling.  Martialla was smart enough only to eat when she was alone, but Anflite and Filtan were the opposite of whatever the soul of discretion is.

It was an overcast day but I believe it was before noon when there was an altercation between the sisters and some of the rescued folk.  I was able to stop things before the sisters started cleaving in heads with their orc-axes but in the process some of the rations were spilled on the ground and the men that were causing the ruckus fell on them like starving chickens pecking at grain, eating it off the ground like beasts.  I don’t know if there’s still some hag-magic rattling around in their heads, or if they were assholes before, or if being transmuted and enslaved by a hag traumatizes you (a combination of all three most likely) but I looked around at the thirtysome odd sets of sullen eyes and regretted gathering up these victimized souls. 

Drake and Lathal were scavenging for anything edible as we traveled, which slowed us down considerably, they gathered up enough roots and berries and the like for maybe a dozen people.  In a way this was worse than if they hadn’t bothered – a third of a meal is just enough to make your appetite stronger rather than abating it.  To make matters worse as Lathal was handing out her portion there was another incident.  I never found out if it was someone trying to grab more food or trying to grab Lathal but Drake came to her defense and several more men jumped in on the side of their friend and I had to break things up again. 

I don’t think we covered much more than ten miles today.  There was additional complaining when Anflite and Filtan set up my tent – there was a sentiment among the refugees that perhaps there should be some kind of sharing arrangement set up.  I told them in no uncertain terms that if they weren’t happy with the rescue I was providing them they were more than welcome to strike out on their own.  A few did just that but for the most part they stayed an angry proto-mob glaring at me.  After dark I went to Drake and Lathal and told them to sneak away under the cover of night – there was no reason for them to hang around and deal with this mess.  They were reluctant, after all I had done for them they didn’t want to abandon me, but I was able to convince them.  In the morning they were gone, although they apparently had spent all night gathering up what food they could find in the woods and left it in the middle of camp. 

This kind gesture resulted in a couple men brawling over semi-edible weeds and nauseating berries while the rest dashed in and grabbed at the pile like squawking birds.  I didn’t bother to break this one up – every time you exert influence it gets weaker.  Each time I stop these animals from killing someone it’s going to get harder to do it the next time.  During the ruckus three half-elf women and an older man came to me and said that they were surveyors like Corwyn who had been caught up in the hag’s web.  They said that they were disgusted by the actions of their fellows and wanted to make sure that I knew that I had their support.  They were convincing enough that Martialla and I lent them some of our weapons in the hopes that they could help us maintain order. 

Travel on the second day was even slower as the group spread out to try and find food like Lathal and Drake had.   One man didn’t come back.  No one said that they had seen him but I could tell just by the look on his face that a fellow with a red beard had killed him for whatever he had found.  I doubt we made it more than six miles.  That night the four surveyors came and told me that some of the few women in the group were offering sex for food – my initial reaction was “so what?” because that’s their choice but the surveyors informed me that they didn’t think any of the men taking them up on this offer had any food. 

I almost let it happen.  If that makes me a monster then I’m a monster – I thought that it would help keep things from completely unraveling.  But in the end I couldn’t allow it.  I came out of my tent backed up by Martialla and the sisters and rounded up those men who were in the process of trying to make a deal.  I asked them to show me the food they were planning to barter with.  One man did have a pocketful of leaves or something and he was let go – the other four were not.  I asked the women what they thought should be done with them but they seemed willing to forget the incident. 

“You’re far too forgiving.”

I nodded and Filtan split the third man’s head open with her orc-ax.  The other three were banished from the group – if they were seen again they would be killed on sight. 

“I will not tolerate this kind of behavior.  Anyone who wants to work out a trade that’s your business, but nobody is going to take advantage of anyone on my watch.  It’s important that you understand this.  I know that you probably thought that you could get away with whatever you want because I’m a woman, but now you know better than that right?  You have your lives thanks to me, and going without food for a couple days is not the end of the Gods damned world.  We’d probably be there by now if you weren’t dragging your fucking feet looking for grubs to shove in your greedy faces.”

That night in the tent Martialla and I had a long discussion about taking the women and the surveyors and striking out on our own – leaving the rest behind.  We probably would have done it if we had figured out a way to do it without them noticing, but we didn’t want to provoke a violent confrontation. I was hoping in the morning that a few men would have deserted the party, but they were all still there – staring at me with their flat expressions.

On the third day I declared that we would not be waiting for any foragers and would be moving at a normal pace.  We came across a giant moorsnake sunning itself that was sluggish enough that the men were able to rush it and bash its head in – carrying it along with us over the shoulders of six men like they were mountaineers roped together.  Later in the day the sisters spotted an elk, my aim has been so terrible lately I gave my crossbow to Martialla and despite her protestations that she wasn’t much of a shot she was able to bring it down.  A couple of men ran like hunting dogs to retrieve the carcass and that night there was enough snake and elk meat to tamp down the anger a bit.  Despite this fact in the morning two men were gone.  No one had seen them leave.  I knew that redbeard had killed them.   

We pushed hard on the fourth day and made it to Bowcrag by the early afternoon – twenty one men and eight women walked into the city with me.  A few of them immediately disappeared into the city streets but the rest decided this was the time to cause even more trouble for me.  What were they supposed to do with no money in strange city?  I told them that I didn’t care but one fellow scored a valid point.

“Why bother rescuing us if you’re going to leave to die here in the streets?”

With the whole annoying rabble-mob trailing with us we went to see the man that had hired the surveyors – Bearult.  He was a massive man, I swear he was two yards around the waist if he was an inch, wearing a fine purple overcoat with ermine trim that could have doubled as a small tent.  He had an unneeded walking stick with a massive sapphire on the end which he gestured with often.  I could tell from the outset what kind of man he was – born rich, so rich that you can screw up and it doesn’t matter, you can ruin relationships, choose wrongly and it has no impact on your life.  Doesn’t know when he’s wrong because it never mattered – has no sense of his own shortcomings because no one has ever told him about them.

He was brash, bold, and often quite funny in the awful way that bullies can be genuinely amusing.  Completely and unquestioningly self-confident, so sure of self that his certainty radiates an aura that makes other people believe it too – much to this detriment.  He offered to take in some of the refugees but I knew how that would turn out (not that they didn’t deserve it) so instead I talked him into giving me a reward for rescuing his workers, which I distributed to the mob. 

“There you go, thirteen gold a piece – if you can’t make it with that it’s not my problem.  You are officially on your own.”

Despite those words I did help some of them ones that had been less awful, and all of the women, find aid at local temples and helped them secure lodging and find some leads on getting home on the cheap, things like that.  There was one man I wanted to have a special word with.  I had Martialla turn me invisible and I walked right up to redbeard with my crossbow ready – he was nonplussed when I appeared. 

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t pull this trigger.”

He shrugged “You want to pull the trigger, pull the trigger.”

“That’s not terribly convincing.”

“It wasn’t meant to be, you don’t seem like the type to be swayed by anyone, if you’re going to kill me you’re going to kill me.  You want an excuse?  I did what I thought I had to.  I don’t like hurting people, I don’t want to hurt people, but I will.  If I have to.”  

That night Martialla and I were sharing a private bath – a deluxe number with magically heated stones, magically wafting agreeable scents and magically emitting pleasing music – while enjoying some Hardroot cider.

“Well, you cured the werewolf.  Congratulations.  And now we work on bringing Hardra back to life?  At what point is the Baroness going to send someone after you?  We’ve been gone a while.  Wasn’t there a cotillion or a debutante ball or some other fancy rich people thing you were supposed to attend after seeing all the nobles?  How are we doing on the timeline?”

“No idea, I think I still have her instructions somewhere, I should probably check those out.”

“Probably.  Do you have any idea on how you’re going to bring back our favorite slutish chaperone?”


“Well, as long as there’s plan.”


Hair regrowth progress :  .03%

Curses – Marksman’s Malady, Unnerve Beasts, Melancholy 

Funds: 8,576 gold

XP: 261,961

Inventory:  Wig of Alluring Charisma +4, Enchanted White Pathfinder’s Gear (effects as Iadaran Dress Uniform) Pocketed Scarf, Wrist Sheath, Animal Totem Tattoo (Lion), Ring of Protection +2, Assortment of Fake Signet Rings,  Bag of Concealment,  Belt of Giant Strength +4, Versatile Vest, Ring of Sustenance, Silver Chain set with Moonstones, Gold and Emerald Ring (2), Platinum and Silver Holy Symbol of Kralten, Black Marketers’ Bag, 852 Garnets, Campfire Bead, Expedition Pavilion, +1 Human Bane Endless Ammunition Light Crossbow, Deck of Curses (two cards used), Blue Dragoncloth Dress, severed hag head (2) Cauldron of Flying, Ring of Urban Grace, Gloves of Swimming and Climbing, +2 Chain Shirt, +1 Longsword, gold necklace with jade pendant, Feather Token (tree) 2, white squirrel fur slippers, +2 Fey Bane Bastard Sword, +1 Human Bane Dagger, +1 Spell Storing Longspear, Hand of the Mage

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