To: Hissarmau of the Tannmrow, Seeker 1st Degree
From: Tsing Cho, Seeker 5th Degree
Salutations! Please allow this humble one to extend both our gratitude for your field notes on the gibbering mouther and our condolences on your current state of health. May you mend quickly and completely.
Per your request we have sent your fellow initiate Xring Ke Kadu the Xixchil to Lavinia Vanderboren to offer her services in your stead until such time as you are fit once again. I know she was glad of the work as the mage she was apprenticed to recently passed away in a Scro attack while returning from Waterdeep on the planet below. On both her behalf and that of the Seekers we thank you.
May you heal with alacrity,
Tsing Cho
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
“I don’t wanna play anymore. . . “ me on 14 Flamerule
20 Flamerule 1360 DR
Yeah, it was a rough run.
I’m currently curled into my nest of cushions with the light pouring down on me from the nearby window, recovering from the injuries I’ve suffered during the mission. I’ve been taking comfort in my cozy home, thankful to be here. My books are neatly lined up along the back of my desk with my pencils corralled into an iridescent Shou Long red enamel-wear pencil cup, stenciled with the glyph of knowledge, a small gift from my old master Kitaro Fujiama. The walls are strewn with maps, pictures culled from random sources and everything from interesting rocks I’ve found to foreign currency. While some find the amount and variety of wall decoration overwhelming, most see a harmonious flow at work and no one realizes that my artistic displays are actually a form of storage for me. Lemmy is quietly stretched out in my favorite chair, soaking up the sun along with his hard-earned whiskey. He makes an unlikely nursemaid but quite a good one I find. He wanders out periodically to stretch his legs (to the nearest bar I’m sure) but comes back with choice tidbits from the local eateries. I’m still licking my whiskers periodically from the tasty half-chicken and I occasionally take up a bone, breaking it open and sucking out the marrow at my leisure. He was even decent enough to make a few passes and lunges with that amazing sword of his (called True Will) when I was suffering through a particularly rough patch of physical pain yesterday, though the glowing effect that I saw during the gibbering mouther attack wasn’t apparent.
As to the mission, it was technically a success (we’re all alive which is frankly success enough all things considered) and we learned more information in relation to son Vanderboren. Another chest awaited us inside the web-frosted village, already detonated leaving an old woman dead. It was meant to go to his sister, a woman called Lavinia. Unfortunately, this unnatural son and brother has fled the asteroid, leaving behind some mysterious horses and chaos in his wake.
Haven-Fara only became infested with spiders after Vaderboren dropped off the chest with the disappearances of the townspeople beginning at roughly the same time. Right now, no one in the group seems to fully realize the racial undertow of the situation, something I don’t know is good (Ignorance is bliss) or bad (I’m withholding potentially useful information).
We met a gentleman named Nemeitia, owner of the Black Fly Bar, during the course of our initial adventures at Haven-Fara. He was being held in custody by Captian Galen—suspected of being a looter during the recent disturbances. I found him very composed for being in such an unstable position but I found myself becoming cold with suspicion as Henry interviewed him. He is Aranea, a “cousin” to and descended from the spiders. When everyone was leaving to return to our rendezvous at Dr. Griff’s home (an arachnid scholar lost in hairsplitting, blinded by his own myopic focus, and determined to join our trip to the caverns in the name of research. He seems physically incapable of stopping the flow of inanities that literally tumble from his mouth all the time.), I lagged behind, murmuring a wish of consoling the prisoner in his time of trial. Once alone with Nemeitia, I politely confirmed what I suspected and inquired about the delicate balance his people have managed to maintain. Plus, I swore to keep his secret. Oh, I so wish I had the leisure to talk with Nemeitia about his people, their customs and beliefs, their history. To watch his people and talk to them in the course of their days.
That murderous Vanderboren has upset the delicate balance and secrets of Haven-Fara. Nemeitia is of the native population of Haven-Fara. The Aranea, the tribe he is a member of, are a species of shape-shifters. Specifically, they can shift from human to spider and back again. Captain Galen, the owner of the Good Fortune Tavern is descended from the legendary Captain Haven and his crew and fully human. Nemeitia and his kin have sworn to keep the secret of their heritage and vowed to never shift to spider shape. It has worked for hundreds of years, perhaps not an ideal solution to racial tensions (Why should one group be oppressed while another is free?) but a workable one accepted by the Araneans. The tensions between the humans and the Araneans has been viewed strictly a natural “old versus new” rivalry by the humans. And now this ancient balance is threatened by an outsider’s reckless actions.
All the missing townfolk are Araneans. I assume they have gone to the underground tunnels in an attempt to rescue or otherwise help their distressed cousins. We need to get back as quickly as possible. While the Araneans have shown remarkable control through the centuries in maintaining their vows of secrecy and the retention of human form, they are now in a seriously destabilized condition where the natural instinct to survive might trigger spontaneous reversal into spider form as it is a superior form in battle with their ability for sorcery and the more traditional attributes of the form such as the ability to make webs and use venom. In man form, they are only human, robbed of their rightful splendor. If the humans discover the Araneans’ secret, we could have an interspecies bloodbath on our hands.
The going looks rough though. We entered the caverns through the secret entrance at the Black Fly and had scarcely started down the path when Lemmy suddenly cocked his head to the side as if he heard something then went troll-shit on us, swinging wildly on Violetta and taking a swing at Henry as well when he tried to intervene. A gibbering mouther had scrambled Lemmy’s brain! I spotted the ugly thing hidden in the bushes and leapt to the attack. And ended up getting my furry butt kicked, being eaten in short order by the beast. The last of the mighty Taanmrow, ignominiously devoured!
The battle raged for some minutes but I missed most of it as I was caught in the beast’s belly, painfully having my fur and flesh eaten away. Henry joined me for a moment I think, but managed to escape. I tried to follow, but had been too weakened by all the blood I was losing. Only after Henry firebombed the mouther could I effect my escape, wrenching my shoulder in the process.
Getting back to the ship is a fuzzy memory at best. My first real clear memory is telling Henry “I don’t wanna play anymore” when asked about piloting. After a three-day run back to Dragon Rock, Henry and Violetta sent me home to recover with Lemmy in attendance.
I don’t think this is going to be easy going, but we absolutely MUST return as quickly as possible. Nemeitia and his people need us. Then track down that Vanderboren. . .
Things to do:
Write up report of Nemeitia and his people for the Seeker Library and arrange for follow-ups. Code it as “Senior Members”—proper security protocol.
Write up the “Legend of Slug Love” as sung by Violetta, the Masq’d Bard.
Re-grow coat.
Yeah, it was a rough run.
I’m currently curled into my nest of cushions with the light pouring down on me from the nearby window, recovering from the injuries I’ve suffered during the mission. I’ve been taking comfort in my cozy home, thankful to be here. My books are neatly lined up along the back of my desk with my pencils corralled into an iridescent Shou Long red enamel-wear pencil cup, stenciled with the glyph of knowledge, a small gift from my old master Kitaro Fujiama. The walls are strewn with maps, pictures culled from random sources and everything from interesting rocks I’ve found to foreign currency. While some find the amount and variety of wall decoration overwhelming, most see a harmonious flow at work and no one realizes that my artistic displays are actually a form of storage for me. Lemmy is quietly stretched out in my favorite chair, soaking up the sun along with his hard-earned whiskey. He makes an unlikely nursemaid but quite a good one I find. He wanders out periodically to stretch his legs (to the nearest bar I’m sure) but comes back with choice tidbits from the local eateries. I’m still licking my whiskers periodically from the tasty half-chicken and I occasionally take up a bone, breaking it open and sucking out the marrow at my leisure. He was even decent enough to make a few passes and lunges with that amazing sword of his (called True Will) when I was suffering through a particularly rough patch of physical pain yesterday, though the glowing effect that I saw during the gibbering mouther attack wasn’t apparent.
As to the mission, it was technically a success (we’re all alive which is frankly success enough all things considered) and we learned more information in relation to son Vanderboren. Another chest awaited us inside the web-frosted village, already detonated leaving an old woman dead. It was meant to go to his sister, a woman called Lavinia. Unfortunately, this unnatural son and brother has fled the asteroid, leaving behind some mysterious horses and chaos in his wake.
Haven-Fara only became infested with spiders after Vaderboren dropped off the chest with the disappearances of the townspeople beginning at roughly the same time. Right now, no one in the group seems to fully realize the racial undertow of the situation, something I don’t know is good (Ignorance is bliss) or bad (I’m withholding potentially useful information).
We met a gentleman named Nemeitia, owner of the Black Fly Bar, during the course of our initial adventures at Haven-Fara. He was being held in custody by Captian Galen—suspected of being a looter during the recent disturbances. I found him very composed for being in such an unstable position but I found myself becoming cold with suspicion as Henry interviewed him. He is Aranea, a “cousin” to and descended from the spiders. When everyone was leaving to return to our rendezvous at Dr. Griff’s home (an arachnid scholar lost in hairsplitting, blinded by his own myopic focus, and determined to join our trip to the caverns in the name of research. He seems physically incapable of stopping the flow of inanities that literally tumble from his mouth all the time.), I lagged behind, murmuring a wish of consoling the prisoner in his time of trial. Once alone with Nemeitia, I politely confirmed what I suspected and inquired about the delicate balance his people have managed to maintain. Plus, I swore to keep his secret. Oh, I so wish I had the leisure to talk with Nemeitia about his people, their customs and beliefs, their history. To watch his people and talk to them in the course of their days.
That murderous Vanderboren has upset the delicate balance and secrets of Haven-Fara. Nemeitia is of the native population of Haven-Fara. The Aranea, the tribe he is a member of, are a species of shape-shifters. Specifically, they can shift from human to spider and back again. Captain Galen, the owner of the Good Fortune Tavern is descended from the legendary Captain Haven and his crew and fully human. Nemeitia and his kin have sworn to keep the secret of their heritage and vowed to never shift to spider shape. It has worked for hundreds of years, perhaps not an ideal solution to racial tensions (Why should one group be oppressed while another is free?) but a workable one accepted by the Araneans. The tensions between the humans and the Araneans has been viewed strictly a natural “old versus new” rivalry by the humans. And now this ancient balance is threatened by an outsider’s reckless actions.
All the missing townfolk are Araneans. I assume they have gone to the underground tunnels in an attempt to rescue or otherwise help their distressed cousins. We need to get back as quickly as possible. While the Araneans have shown remarkable control through the centuries in maintaining their vows of secrecy and the retention of human form, they are now in a seriously destabilized condition where the natural instinct to survive might trigger spontaneous reversal into spider form as it is a superior form in battle with their ability for sorcery and the more traditional attributes of the form such as the ability to make webs and use venom. In man form, they are only human, robbed of their rightful splendor. If the humans discover the Araneans’ secret, we could have an interspecies bloodbath on our hands.
The going looks rough though. We entered the caverns through the secret entrance at the Black Fly and had scarcely started down the path when Lemmy suddenly cocked his head to the side as if he heard something then went troll-shit on us, swinging wildly on Violetta and taking a swing at Henry as well when he tried to intervene. A gibbering mouther had scrambled Lemmy’s brain! I spotted the ugly thing hidden in the bushes and leapt to the attack. And ended up getting my furry butt kicked, being eaten in short order by the beast. The last of the mighty Taanmrow, ignominiously devoured!
The battle raged for some minutes but I missed most of it as I was caught in the beast’s belly, painfully having my fur and flesh eaten away. Henry joined me for a moment I think, but managed to escape. I tried to follow, but had been too weakened by all the blood I was losing. Only after Henry firebombed the mouther could I effect my escape, wrenching my shoulder in the process.
Getting back to the ship is a fuzzy memory at best. My first real clear memory is telling Henry “I don’t wanna play anymore” when asked about piloting. After a three-day run back to Dragon Rock, Henry and Violetta sent me home to recover with Lemmy in attendance.
I don’t think this is going to be easy going, but we absolutely MUST return as quickly as possible. Nemeitia and his people need us. Then track down that Vanderboren. . .
Things to do:
Write up report of Nemeitia and his people for the Seeker Library and arrange for follow-ups. Code it as “Senior Members”—proper security protocol.
Write up the “Legend of Slug Love” as sung by Violetta, the Masq’d Bard.
Re-grow coat.
Twas The Seventh of Flamerule....
Exciting doings lately. On the seventh of Flamerule, I went out and ended up meeting a drunken, rather plug-ugly human male named Lemmy Sorpic. Normally, such company is not for me outside of working commissions, but he has this amazing purple, glowing, glittering, unusual therefore tempting sword. Such a teasing prize was well worth following the hulking fellow into this rowdier bar in the Burrows district. He was pretty cranky when I experimentally swatted at his lovely lovely sword but sullenly let me buy him a drink. So I happily bought a round and chatted away, finding out that he was a new arrival to the Rock looking for some action while I watched Lemmy’s eyes droop lower and lower from the drink. He kept asking about a smart-ass three-year-old. Poor fella. Probably some messy domestic situation I imagine. Ah well. I buy another round.
After some time, Lemmy lurched to his feet, muttering about needing a place to crash for the night. Being such a compassionate soul, I naturally couldn’t let him stumble around drunk at night so offered to put him up for the night. Once he fell asleep, he couldn’t warn me off his sword anymore, leaving Me to inspect it at leisure—it was just too glittery for its own damned good and I’ve ever been a sucker for such unique things. I’ve never seen a crystalline sword and its ambient glow was driving me a little crazy.
I tossed a coin to one of the bar goons to help me get Lemmy loaded into a rickshaw. After arriving at my house, we bumped into the lovely and charming Violetta, “The Masked Bard” and a fellow named Henry Darger. Once the others picked themselves up and dusted themselves off (I naturally kept my footing due to the blessings of my ancestors’ agility), we all retired to a local teahouse called Chu’s, settling into a quiet (i.e. private) room in the back.
After some conversation, I was offered a job piloting to a pirate base with the goal of rescuing some fella falsely accused of murder (aren’t they all!). Lemmy drunkenly agreed to come along as extra muscle while I ultimately agreed after the additional promise of first dibs on any protective amulets along with my pay. I may be 16 and from the Horde Lands, but my masters refused to abide any foolishness during my training and schooled me in the basics of handling of the Order of the Wren’s and Master Fujiama’s accounts and contracts, along with everything else.
We eventually retired to Lucille’s House, where “The Masked Bard” is the resident musician and dancer and where Henry lives. Lemmy decided to stay (something about a black whore and a fat whore) at Lucille’s while I decided to hang about talking to the ladies about the finer details of womanhood. After having two male masters who schooled me well in all matters of fighting, meditation, spell casting and piloting, I felt it was time to acquire some “feminine skills”. Henry (considerately I think!) offered to show me the way, but he wasn’t exactly going to show me what I had in mind, the mattress mambo being a far cry from make-up and being a graceful lady and all that troll shit.
I bounced between my place at the edge of the Red Lantern district and Lucille’s, gathering my few items together for the commission and trying to find any information about the spectacular murder. Political overtones were hinted at so I wanted as much information as possible. I finally struck paydirt with a bartender. The Vanderboren family has suffered a tragedy it seems. A lovely chest was sent to Papa and Mama Vanderboren, which was sadly booby-trapped with magic spells, exploding and killing both parents upon opening, leaving the son accused of the horrendous (and unnatural—Patricide and Matricide for pity’s sake!) crime. And we’re looking for the kid. Unfortunately, I was unable to ascertain the political angle, leaving me still uneasy.
Alas, the whole orphan thing. Had to have a damned orphan angle. Being an orphan myself, my whole tribe wiped out by barbarians when I was only a kit of 10, I feel badly for the kid though if he’s guilty I think he ought to suffer proper punishment of the law—I mean killing such precious connections, abomination! So I’m stuck satisfying my own terrible curiosity as to whether the kid is innocent (and thus should be permitted his mourning and responsibilities to his ancestors unmolested) or if he’s guilty (whereupon he should be executed summarily). I would do anything to see my parents again, even my cranky great-aunt Narcissa would be a welcome sight, bad cooking, worse breath and all.
We finally left Dragon Rock a few days later with me at the helm of the ship. After accidentally reversing into the mast of the main ship, I was to make a quiet, discreet entry with the wreckboat, but missed it by a mile, screeching into port and banging up the ship when I attempted to make the narrow entrance. No one really liked that (I heard cussing of all languages—quite remarkable really from a linguistics standpoint), but I feel I leavened the mood by pointing out that the new damage would only add verisimilitude to our story of needing to dock due to damage to our ship. Really though, I was momentarily distracted by that space-blasted purple glittery sword. Freakin’ thing.
After arrival, we began to look about while Violetta recounted the tale of Pirate Captain Haven and his Squidship (apparently there’s a large treasure involved as well).
We ran across a guy in one of the tunnels. The guy tried to run but a large bear-hug from Lemmy stopped him. He was only willing to tell us his name (Jess Furrier) and the name of the village (Haven-Fara) that was ahead of us. He claimed to have no knowledge of our guy and he had no obvious means of return, the landing dock being empty upon our (albeit accidently!) noisome arrival. In thanks, we trussed him up, gagged him and tossed his weapons down another corridor.
We found a large, forested cavern with the village of Haven-Fara in a clearing in the center. Over the village was a large formation of psionic crystals which shed a gentle light over the scene. A weird trident looking thing was in the center of the village, reaching high for the crystals above. And over it all, like a demented frosting, were spiderwebs. We decided we were too hasty about Jess Furrier so went back to let him loose and hopefully gain his help. Silly human tried to run away but I brought him down in a flash with a nice low, sweeping kick. My master would have been so proud.
Furrier is eager to accompany us, wild to rescue his fiancée from the besieged village. According to him, the village was fine when he left two weeks ago. So Henry is accompanying Furrier as he retrieves his weapons. Violetta, Lemmy and I returned to the village where I spotted an opening. Lemmy has decided to enter while Violetta and I stand watch.
Right now, I’m trying to forget all those times I’ve played with spiders in the past. I’d spend all day when I was a kit, following particularly large spiders about, swatting, batting, pouncing on them. My play looks, well, awfully rough in hindsight actually and now I’m on my way into a village with spiders large as hunting dogs. (sigh) I really hope the spiders don’t decide to “play” with me. Wish I could meditate—maybe for a quick second??? Ooooooommmmmm. . .
Facts recently learned:
Lemmy drinks OTP
Mascara opens up the eye area—Thanks Lucille’s Ladies!
Vanderboren murder details
Pirate Captain Haven and Squidship legend
Note to self:
Practice take-offs and landings
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