Journal of Ceurelian
Drawing the appropriately short straws, I found myself escorting a fishmonger for a few days. Silver lining: Ghost was with me. The black bastard woke me up with a rock the first night. Somehow I am less irritated when it comes from him. I suppose this is because I know not to expect any different. I put my armor on, grabbed my scourge, woke the others, and prepared to do battle with what turned out to be a scorpion. We went back to sleep instead.
The next day we were beset by a group of Kobolds. I do not recall how we killed them, but clearly we did. A day or two later, or perhaps on our way back to camp, we were ambushed by another damned scorpion. I killed it this time, but only with the help of the Deva. Ghost decided it would suit him better to do nothing. I was hurt. By poison. Ghost took the tail when we were finished. I’ll need to remember to do something terrible to that man at some point.
We delivered the fisherman, but not without learning a great deal about his trade. I will spare this document the details as I am hoping to let them slip from my memory as soon as is possible. Friendly guy, though. I tried my best to direct his attention towards the Deva, it seemed to work towards the end. I am sure they will miss each other terribly.
Our work behind us we had some time to relax, so the Deva, Ghost, and I headed into the city. It was the day of Bahamut, so the god-thing was excited. I thought about my sisters for some time that day and am reminded of them now. I hope they are well.
We managed to get the Deva to drink with us that night. To be honest I wasn’t certain if they were capable of it, but this one clearly was once his initial hesitation was lifted. I told him Bahamut sent me a vision and was waiting for him at the bottom of a pint, then kept telling him he was drinking from the wrong glass when he finished without meeting the dragon god. I hope I laugh this much every time I recall that. I’ll have to remember that logic in the future.
I woke up the next morning naked in a friend’s bed. Something awesome totally happened. After getting dressed and speaking with the Drow we discovered a murder had been committed that night. An unknown Eladrin male lay slain, the beautiful sword still in him. That sword belongs to me now. The blade appears magical, though we were unable to identify its exact qualities. It is truly a magnificent weapon. I shall use it for now until I find someone able to create a scourge of equal quality.
Ghost and I did some work to uncover to truth, but with few leads there was little we could do. We made a deal with the publishing company to share information, so I’ll remember to keep in touch with them. They seem to be a useful group of people.
Returning to the camp we received wind of a small group of Ogres, 3 in total, terrorizing the citizenry. There may also be a pink Dragon. Polka-dots? Regardless, we set off in search of a lead. We instead found one of the Ogres attacking Meadowhaven, home of Jhohn the Dog. The battle was crazy. Lots of heavy hits, and an equally surprising number of pathetic failures, some sadly my own. In the end we survived and managed to kill that particular Ogre, along with his war priest buddy.
1 Ogre slain, 2 more remain. Possibly some sort of odd (or more likely just poorly-described, possibly non-existent) Dragon. Uncounted Kobolds to be killed.
Truly we are heroes, or something like it.