Danelion's Journal
From Rathe
This is Danelion's "complete" journal, written entirely in the Elven language. (and he also misspells Cest a lot!)
Contents |
Dragons and Goblins
((Journal #1 | Level 2 | 9/15/2006))
Date: October 5th
It was a weird feeling leaving my third home. I would have thought I had been used to it, but I was not used to it. I had some sorrow when I had left Ebheim, except for those damn judgmental wizards in that academy. They wish they were me; they are jealous! As I saw the town drift away, I had a desire to prove my greatness. As I saw the coast fade, the desire grew greater. I am going to be known!
I had watched the empty sea and sky for a long time, with an odd fascination. This continued, until I was startled by the captain. Seems he needed me to gamble. I would not normally oblige, as gambling is a horrible vice, but the scenery became repetitive and there was mention of “dragons”.
The whole team was there, except there was one person, one half-elf, that took me by surprise. Deronath Liadon, Deronath Liadon was there! The Denorath that was on that caravan! The one that I knew for two years, we learned magic from each other, and we said goodbye to each other when the caravan stopped at Ebheim. The captain stated that we split into teams of two, which meant that we would be teammates, again.
The captain had to go over the rules; it seemed that no one knew this card game known as “Triple Dragon Ante”. The rules were simple enough, simple enough for drunkards. It wasn’t as elegant as chess, and I doubt that any dragon would play or have it. The card game was too based too much on luck, as realized when our hand was ridiculously low.
We had no chance of winning the pot, only to play effects in rapid succession. That was our strategy. The captain ended up winning the hand (because he OWNS the game). The next hand was underway, when it was rude interrupted by a “thunk”. This made everyone uneasy, but we were all unwavering, all wanting to recoup our losses.
And then the ship’s alarms went off! Before I knew it, the doors flew open, goblins were attacking and spreading oil, everyone was grabbing weapons left and right, and mine were on the other side of the ship, I went to the captain’s weapon locker. I had found several heavy crossbows, but as I was reaching for one, a javelin flew right next to me, planting itself in the wall. Angry, I reached for my butter, and conjured swirling grease at the thrower’s feet. I didn’t get him, but I got his friend instead, as suddenly his legs give way, causing him to fall.
Then, the goblins that could fled the ship, along with a mysterious man in plate, and went back to their ship, which is named after an infamous ship that sank. (I don’t believe that their ship was that ship.) And then, a huge explosion made the ship list! I remember holding onto the ship as it listed, fearing that I would fall overboard, but the ship righted itself.
There was a rush of crew members to fix a hole the explosion caused. Seeing the hole, I sensed that the explosion was magical in nature, and so used divination to figure out what magic had hurt the ship. It was a lightning bolt! A lightning bolt! We were fortunate that night. It could have been much worse, much, much worse.
No Goblins in a Goblin Cave?
((Journal #2 | Level 2 | 10/7/2006))
Date: October 6th
We were told by the captain that his boat needed repairs (Really now?). I thought the same exact thing. During a night which lingered forever, we came across a rocky outcropping, curiously with a crashed boat on top of it. Out of curious nature (and myself, vengeance as well), we climbed the mountain, and explored the cave hidden by that boat.
The cavern had no welcome, no warmth, & no guiding light. The cave was dreadfully narrow, to the point that I felt trapped by it. I cast Mage Armor, which bugged Ikkanil because he thought it lasted a couple of minutes. I had to enlighten him, of course. I felt a little relief with my everburning torch on my belt, my cat on my shoulder, and the first open room in sight. We had walked through the room, when the comrade next to me falls! I jumped. He was hoisted up, and healed. I should be grateful that I wasn’t the one who fell; he looked really bad.
After meticulous searching, we found two things of interest, one was a cage of wolves, the other was a statue of Noh, the failed mutineer turned tsunami-riding town-destroying avatar, with levers. The latter intrigued me right away. However, there was nothing (Al’mil double-checked,) in the room that signified what the levers did. I had told Ikkanil about the levers, and that the levers either would be trapped or reveal a secret treasure trove. I suggested we pull the levers by rope, so that whatever happed, we would be fine. He laughed. He called me stupid. He called my plan stupid. And then he told the party to do MY plan. I’m surprised he’s smart enough to know arcana, let alone breathe.
And so MY plan went into action when Austri pulled the gold lever. Surprise, surprise, a treasure room was revealed. I saw Ik’kanil saunter into that room, and so, I followed. (hell if I trust him) And so did three other people…
And then the door slams, locking us in the room! My first thought was, “I’m going to die, slowly, with this buffoon jabbering next to me. I had hoped that, when the time came, my death would be quick. He shoves me back, and finds a lever above the door. (I would’ve found it, but quicker.) The door opens, to reveal wolves!
I pulled my crossbow out, but couldn’t get a good shot in the twisting passages of the cavern. So I conjured my superior magic, and filled the alpha wolf with a terrible dread, causing him to run off. After that I couldn’t do anything else, with my comrades blocking my view to the enemy in the tunnel. We defeated the wolves, and we were safe, for now.
Druids (and dice) Hate Me.
((Journal #3 | Level 2 | 10/24/2006))
Date: October 6th
The treasure was disappointing. For such cutthroat pirates, you’d think they’d have more money. Perhaps I overestimated them. (But then, how did they cast a lightning bolt?) Anyhow, Austri pulls more levers, and releases more monsters. We dispatched them, of course. Some pirates they are…
What I am about to write will live in infamy, so long as I remember and have this journal, of the treachery of Vuecy. It all happened when we (half of us, really) were fighting giant snakes. I readied a Ray of Enfeeblement, and accidentily struck Denorath with it. I didn’t mean to do that, I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. I would never purposefully strike him. I’m sorry. I apologized to him sincerely.
However, during that time, Veucy (the unreasonable retard) decided to take maters into his own hands. Now civilized people would first confront the person, and find out the whole truth of the matter, before they pass judgment. Not Veucy. No, that would be too smart. Instead, he pounces, pounces!, on me, from behind, in the most dishonorable fashion imaginable! I hit the ground, with ("my comrade" quote unquote) Veucy on top, snarling and slobbering on top of me. The wolf had me pinned, it was going to eat me! I desperately pushed him off! (I don’t know how.) I wanted to get away from said homicidal wolf, but Ik refused to let me get past him.
There is a quote wizards like to say, “The writing on the wall.” It means that someone can see the entire situation clearly. For example, I see Veucy’s and Ik’s desire to kill me; it is as clear as the writing on the wall. Ik, maybe not so much (he’s just an ---hole), but Veucy, I see the murderous gleam in his eyes. I don’t trust him, I don’t trust him near my beloved cat, and I won’t trust him with the children I might have someday. That is assuming he doesn’t eat me in my trance first.
The villainy of Veucy could fill books, but I should talk about the adventure. After the infamy, there was no danger in the cave. We explored it all, attending to a diseased prisoner, when danger found us. The goblins came back! Now, we were ready for them, with victory in our beating hearts, and some coin to line our pockets. We felt confident. I’ve got nothing to lose, well, except my life. (I’m making sure that damn druid doesn’t jump me again.)
In Memory of Ebheim
((Journal #4 | Level 2 | 10/24/2006))
Date: October 10th
I don’t remember a thing. Not one. I was hiding in cover from the goblins, crossbow loaded. I rose, looked at one of the wretched goblins, eyes locked, and, with unwavering determination, pulled the trigger. The crossbow bolt sung, found its mark, and pierced his flesh, making it fall.
But it didn’t. What truly happened was disheartening. As soon as I saw the vermin, my feet gave way unexpectedly, and instantly the floor collapsed, causing me to hit my head. I went unconscious.
And then I awoke. I breathed a sigh of relief, looking around my room, knowing my time had not yet come. The ship seemed different, and devoid. I looked around, and looked at the unending sea, again. I found some of the original team on the boat, but no Veucy, or Ikkanil. This is the first fortunate thing that’s happened to me in a long time.
And then I was told about Ebheim. Ebheim was tragically burned to the ground. The perpetrators are unknown, but I hope I find them. I want the streets of former Ebheim to run red with their blood. May the souls of the departed of Ebheim find solace in the afterlife. And yet, somehow I feel that the tragedy of Ebheim will somehow be blamed on me, by Veucy most likely, based on some cockamamie juju bogus theory.
So it looks like I’m cursed. I’m cursed to not have a home. I’m cursed to have the trail of death and destruction follow me wherever I go. I can only wait before that trail finally catches up with me.
On the other hand, I have finally got back to studying arcana. For some reason, the necromantic arcana I’m researching is becoming a lot clearer…
Chicken 1 | Minedelt 0
((Journal #5 | Level 3 | 10/28/2006))
Date: October 14th
I don’t know how much time I spent on the sea. I really don’t. I was delighted when I saw a city, any city would be better than this boat. I’ve had it with boats, the seascape is desolate, the ship makes me feel trapped, and the food is horrible.
The city is called Kest, and many boats were lined up to dock. That delayed landfall by an hour. I got mad. I thought about just swimming to shore, but then regained my common sense. I started looking, no, staring at Kest. The city looked very beautiful to me, even though the streets were literally packed with Ebheim refugees.
I began thinking, every city in which I have resided has been horribly destroyed, and were places in which death prevailed. I thought that I, residing in Kest, would ultimately destroy the town and its inhabitants. It sounds bogus, I’ll admit, but so far it has been true. Sertijar, pillaged. Ebheim, burned to the ground. Kest, I don’t know. I can only hope that my theory is nothing more than bogus coincidence.
My morbid thinking was broken by the landfall of our ship. The party (which in part has become my new family, except Veucy) went into the city; I myself let out a sigh and went with them. On the way to find an inn, we had trouble navigating the streets, the refugees had flooded the city. I was wary of pickpocketers, and took a close watch at my money. We eventually found an inn to call our headquarters, The Lilac Broomstick.
After we had our HQ, we split. I went to find the magic shop in Kest. Several hours later, I found a shanty, on the outskirts of town, which didn’t look like a magic shop so much as looked like a witch’s hut. I thought, “This can’t be a magic shop,” so I left, trying to find the “real” magic shop. I was pointed to the shanty again. I ran into the owner too, he’s an old guy (by human standards). I went in; I don’t know what I was thinking, but my fears were unfounded. It actually was a magic shop, and had really nice deals. I guess this city is too much of a backwaters-hick town to support arcana. Any elven town wouldn’t neglect such a fine art.
There was another thing I had to get, a horse. Horses, as I found out, are not as simple as I thought they were. Luckily I had Austri there to tell me how to “operate” a horse. I have not named him. Or was it her? I can’t remember what the trainer said. I’ve found that I’m growing fond of my new horse; my fondness grew most during the time I “tested” it near the trainer. However, I still find riding a horse weird, but having an animal carry my gear is really nice.
After I had taken care of business, I decided to go back to the inn. However, a hooligan caught my eye. A reckless hooligan, he was firing at a chicken in the crowd, his bolts narrowly missing innocents. He seemed so intent on killing that chicken. He wanted that chicken dead, even if he had to use every bolt in his repeating crossbow. I wanted to get a closer look. Lo and behold, it’s Minedelt, Minedelt the buffoon.
I couldn’t stand watching this charade anymore, lest I be associated with him. I started my artwork again, tracing abjuration runes in my book, making sure everything was written perfectly. This practice went on in the day and the deep night, and I still find my artwork incomplete.
Some of the party went to go see some royalty. However, no one told me. I would have really liked to go meet other royalty, instead, I was excluded! How dare they! I think it was all the work of Ikkanil, because Voo’s plans would involve eating me.
After the lovely meeting I wasn’t invited to, I had received two pieces of urgent news. One was that we had another adventure, a crusade to mercilessly kill bandits that were harassing noble trade caravans. The other was that Minedelt had lost to the chicken. The former news I was happy about, the latter, not so much. He could have used Magic Missile, or, better yet, he could just not be so damn bogus and not embarrass us!
Here’s hoping that I don’t cause the fall of Kest.
A plan worked?! *shock*
((Journal #6 | Level 3 | 11/17/2006))
Date: October 20th
I met an ogre, Thud for the first time. Seems a lot stupider than what I’ve read up upon. I say this because our gnome in the party (one of the likeable people) tricked the ogre into attacking some bandits! At first, I didn’t think it was going to work, but in the end, I sincerely overestimated the ogre’s intellect. Silly me. After the bandits got leveled by this Thud in their lair, we searched it. Mainly, Voo searched it, pocketed the loot, hoping no one would notice. I noticed. I knew my mistrust in Voo was well-deserved! I busted him in front of the party, and basically he had no choice but to relinquish the mace to the party stash. Somebody needs to teach him that crime doesn’t pay.
During Voo’s attempted thievery, a wrestling match broke out, right in the middle of the room! Nevyn, Austri, and Minedelt started wrestling each other. Had they lost their minds! Did they get rabies off of Voo? Austri wanted to kill the ogre, and so when his comrades wouldn’t let him attack Thud directly, he took the back door, and successfully drove Thud out of the cave. I pursued, and found Thud dead at the enterance. I can’t say I feel sorry for Thud though. Austri, dependable Austri, if you were only an arcanist and an elf you would be the second best wizard ever! Too bad the world isn’t perfect.
If the world was perfect, the first thing that wouldn’t be in it would be orcs, followed closely by howlers. These howlers are fast, obnoxious, and won’t die! Worst off they won’t shut up, and hearing their howl drive people mad! The beast is the embodiment of cowardice, always hiding, and never fighting. The thing’s damn-near invulnerable; my arcane missiles didn’t phase it!
I wouldn’t be so mad, but we had to hunt one down, lest we go insane. During the course of the events, the thing kept hiding, and Al’mil, who held down the inn, was captured by the bandits. Damn them all! May their flesh be seared alive by the heat of a thousand suns! May their innards burst into cockroaches, because they truly are cockroaches. The howler did shut up, thankfully.
They are cockroaches, greedy conniving ones, and the first thing that happened after the noble elf’s kidnapping was the delivery of his ransom note. My eyes flared up with rage at that point. But, there was nothing we could do. We paid the 400 gp, fled to Kest and got Al’mil back the next day. How dare they kidnap and abuse such a happy elf! I will kill those no-good vermin, even if it costs me my young life!
Shortly after we had Al’mil back, he grew paranoid. His response was to dress up as a half-orc. I didn’t like it one bit, but who am I to stop him? (He reminds me of my childhood, my happy childhood.) I will say that he nailed the part really well, right down to the horrible body odor and general orc stupor.
We needed to take the fight to the bandits. So our glorious plan, (which has no chance of working) was to wait at a burned down inn, and ambush the ambushers. In retrospect, it sounds awful, but the worst part was, it worked. It actually worked… Even with Austri, the shiny, we managed to get the jump on the bandits.
And the bandits knew defeat. They knew on that day that the powers of arcanical genius are unstoppable, unrivaled, and unilaterally the best there is. One of the bandits was blinded by my genius, literally. Now he has his entire life to realize his error, unlike his comrades which were struck dead by my missiles. They ran, but not after a sizeable portion of them got their due justice. The bandits just laid there, dead. I was happy. Unfortunately, the innocent caravan traders/guards died in the beginning of the combat, and for that, I was sad. The death of the bandits was the very least I could do for them.
I have finally found a name for my horse. He shall be known as Linquist, the noble horse of the all-knowledgeable, honorable, genius of arcana, Danelion! Already I am liking him more than some of my human party members, like Ik’kanil, who refuses to call me by my proper, beautiful elven name. He might be a half-elf, but he’s as annoying as two humans! And Veucy, he’s becoming less aggressive toward me, only because he wants me to put down my guard. (and also because he recognizes my genius!) That reminds me of a short poem I had heard back in Ebheim by a rather depressing and untalented human bard:
The serpent will always put on his best face, And considers the unwary to be best friends, It longs to put you in its loving, tight embrace, And by that time your friendship and life ends.
Why do I remember that? It isn’t even art! I need to hang out with a real bard, Al’mil, and celebrate this victory! (Because everyone knows, Elven culture & art >> Human culture & art. Actually, most things follow this formula.)
Everyone Do the Kest (and go insane)!
Date: October 25th
Damn. I thought I would’ve remembered what happened. How can such genius, paralleled only by such things like dragons, forget what happened?! How does one forget how one came to the point of mass death, with Linquist, Austri, and Minedelt in eternal slumber?
It just pisses me off…
Now I have more dwarves by my side, though none of them are like Austri, or as understanding and friendly that Austri was. Damn, why did Austri have to die? Why does everything I like die?! I feel like I’m on the receiving end of a nasty cosmic prank, and I don’t like it!
So we now have Vestri, Vestri the jerk. Although he is a paladin, he has very little manners. He constantly accuses me of being evil, which I am certainly not, and he always keeps giving me this annoying, accusatory glare EVERY time I cast something. With paladins like him I don’t need enemies. But wait, there’s more! Vestri, the jerk, also brought his brother along, so he [Vestri] could baby-sit him! His name is Ogmar, and, like his name suggests, he’s stupid. Very stupid. The funnier part is, Ogmar’s a cleric! If that’s a cleric, I’d hate to see who the high priest/priestess is. (a duck?) Now that our group is a lot more ignorant, I could still rest assured that Al’mil was still there, making sure our group isn’t a bunch of savages.
There is only one direction life can take, forwards. Forwards, in this case, means away from the scene of death. Away to the inn, where there was gambling. It was Three Dragon Ante again. Being that we were recently robbed, we had to put up equipment to enter the tournament. Namely, we put up Minedelt’s arrow-firing mechanical deathtrap. (I swear he’s a gnome, an overgrown gnome.) Oddly enough, there’s a market for those, and we played cards. (What’s really weird is that somebody else wants to use said mechanical deathtrap.)
It was cards as normal, except there were these green chips, which were special, and turned the game into straight out mugging with red dragons. Which meant that the game was more based on luck, less upon skill, and that meant me only getting one red dragon. I did win one round, and so did Voo, with the druid card. I hate that druid card. It’s as annoying as our druid. I mean, really, when faced against dragons, the druid would get blasted or crushed, or ripped asunder, or immolated, or eaten! Since when does being weak make you the winner? The druid, thanks to the worst card in the game, won, and since he had the special chips, he got a pearl of power for his efforts. (I bet he wouldn’t be as lucky as he was in a skillful game, like chess.) That pearl would do better in my possession, but alas, the game isn’t highly skill based. However, I did win money, and Ikkanil got robbed, so some good came out of it. Can’t win them all…
We headed towards Kest. In the beginning of the journey, the paladin gave me the look of wrathful judgment, as I cast False Life on myself, as a defensive measure. Someone (else) needs to tell Vestri that I’m the good guy, and not evil! I know I’ve told him that at least ten times! How dare he assault my honor!
Anyway, he’s a jerk, and I had also thought that the magic shop old man was too. We had arrived at Kest, and when traveling the town, I went back to the magic shop, but it was gone! No trace of it was anywhere! I begin thinking, “What kind of shop packs up and leaves suddenly!?” while trying to find a different shop, when I found the shanty, in the dock districts. I was soon given the explanation of, “You can’t tax what’s not there.” I had to agree. I bought another scroll, and was on my way. (That is one clever old man.)
The rest of the day passed on in the inn/tavern, and the night was spent in trance. It was peaceful, like the way it should be, until I suddenly get beamed in the head! (No no, thank you inn, I really wanted to be visited by an angry goblin at night.) My cat went off, hissing at the goblin, and ran off. Before I could move my lips for a spell, the wretched goblin landed another blow, and I slipped into unconsciousness.
I woke up, seeing Nevyn hovering over me, and feeling my wounds close up, as a surge of positive energy went through me. Then I saw him dart out of the room. I laid there, petrified (and still in pain). I was almost killed! I was sort of relieved when I knew my time hadn’t come yet, just a vivid reminder of such. I wanted my cat, where was he? A cold fear ran through me, fearing for him, until he showed up. I nearly crushed him with love.
I don’t know how I continued resting, just that I did. Shortly after untrancing, something began knocking on the door. I went through the words for Blindness/Deafness, fearing another attacker. I open the door, about to blind the thing, but the thing was many things, and it was the City Guard. They promptly interrogated me, and also wanted to interrogate the cat, using Speak with Animals, but I told them that my cat wasn’t an animal; it was an intelligent magical beast! And so they went to find another wizard with a cat, so that both cats could talk to each other. (Has this whole town gone mad!? Use Tongues!)
Well, I seems like the town has indeed gone mad, because, in the middle of the night, Sebol, Nevyn, and Al’mil were arrested for murder. Murder?! How outrageous! I know this because I was invited to their trial. Some trial. We had everything in a trial that would make lawyers barf. We had the criminal, who doesn’t know anything about jokes or magic, and we had the good guys with the worst defense ever. Somehow, from what I heard, Sebol, “tracker extraordinaire”, tracked the goblin that almost killed me, and magically, it turned into 6 humans! That is one shifty goblin! (Or one crappy ranger, I’m inclined to believe the latter.)
So what does the free-spirited kind-hearted elven bard get for his sentence? 180 years. Or something like that. I couldn’t believe it. Al’mil would never do such a thing! How can you sentence a man to 100+ years!? (Wouldn’t it just be better to kill him!?) And what do the other two get? They got exile, simple, non-tortuous exile.
Now that I think about it, Kest is got to be one of the worst cities I’ve ever been in. The streets are packed with refugees, the magic shop has to move to avoid the unbearable taxes, and there’s a plague that spontaneously kills people. It makes me wonder if Kest has tourists. If they somehow do, I wonder if they’re happy. “Come to Kest, where our lack of sanity is refreshing, where death comes suddenly and so do the goblin assassins! And if that doesn’t happen, we’ll arrest your best friend and give him centuries of hard labor!”
It just pisses me off…
Sebol’s and Nevyn’s exile from Kest doesn’t seem all that bad, in retrospect… However, Al’mil is gone… Gone… His music, his happiness, his friendship, gone… I thought that law and justice were the way… I worshipped you Markov, and this is how I am repaid!?
You’ll never leave me Taemurion, will you? Please don’t leave me… I love you…
Journal #8?
Date: October 30th
((You would expect a journal entry here, but there's not. Those who have Sense Motive or are otherwise "streetwise" can figure out two reasons why.
1. He had other, better, wizardry things to do (Fireball doesn't research itself, you know.)
2. He wanted to make sure his journals said the right thing, but more importantly, glorified himself as best as he could.
Also, there is a list on the back of the last page, containing journal dates.))
((But alas, Danelion is dead, and no one except history weeps for the loss of one of the greatest archmagi that could have existed.))
