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Entry #1 : The Party and the Potions Mistress
Day 01, Year 831;

Fate has brought me to the company of uncanny folks; adept but uncanny. The team that I have been working with for some time are quite diverse in both race, class and expertise. It is more than enough to say that our differences in the aforementioned classifiers definitely come with different ideals, beliefs and objectives.

The small one, Ducky, is perky. I do not remember if she mentioned her full name when she introduced herself and if she did, I must have forgotten but her pet name suites her quite well. She’s very boisterous for a paladin. You would think that a person of such class would collect him or herself in a manner that is noble and of divine elegance but she does not exude that at all especially when she punched me while we were in the dingy kobold’s lair. The little one makes me think that she’s on an adventure for two reasons 1. For the sake of it and 2. To learn more about the world. Her going out of her bubble was a big mistake and I hope she notices it when it’s too late.

It amuses me how the world is slowly corrupting her “sense of self and justice” so to speak. Surely, the world will twist and break her like anyone, who is birthed to this realm, experiences. One would expect that someone would care but that someone is not me.

On the other side of the spectrum is of unholy appearance. He goes by the name Barakas Obamas and almost refers to himself in the 3rd person but let's just call him Barakas. It is of utmost importance that power does not fall in his hands which is regrettable since he has obtained a drake which he calls his son and is responsive to the name, “Jerod”. I have seen a lot of daft sentient creatures in my lifetime but this “thing” is no more than a beast in his conduct. One evening when we were running and hiding away from our pursuers, we failed in avoiding combat and had to fight due to my own bad luck. Instead of grabbing and using his weapon, he opted to throw a pebble which did not do much. Luckily, we were able to defeat them and the members of the team were unharmed.

If this is the kind of able-bodied beings that are being drafted, I cannot say much as to how the army will be victorious against the monsters that we are facing. It will take a miracle to win such a war and I’m pretty sure that you, gods of the realm, are enjoying your little game of thrones - throwing your set of dice around, devilishly enjoying this realm’s misfortune yet being gracious at the last minute no?

Let us not forget the silent but deadly leader of the pack, Corporal Martell. All men, even in their extreme machismo and bravado, know when to stop being such an unwanted thorn on one’s rose. Yet, I am pretty sure that Des would love and look up to this person. After all, my little brother loves a good tragic hero - a man who is in search of power, who wants to prove himself because he feels inferior but blind to his own superiority complex which ultimately causes his demise. To weave such a story, to be able to direct it and to induce suffering to this man over and over again even after his passing would be amazing.

Have you ever then wondered what it’s like to be this guy where people love him but no one actually likes him? If he were to die due to DEATH’s untimely knocking at his door, it would be appropriate to say that he died in vain

Finally, the most fascinating creature that I have ever come across is this anthropomorphic bird who is somewhat a harbinger of death. To say that he is DEATH would be an insult to the being himself but this bird, Jean Luc Pikaw, comes close. This Pikaw has a fetish for feet, dead feet, that he would happily nibble on. The touch of his black flipper was able to disintegrate a drake to its bare frames and when you look into his beady eyes, they are just like endless pits of pure nothingness. I wonder what would happen if I scoop his eyes out of his skull - will it just be literally pits of nothingness? Ah but if I did, he would not be as interesting anymore since no one would have any windows to look into this creature - we would have no way of knowing what he thinks since he cannot be understood and he will be in complete isolation unless he channels his consciousness to what lies beyond this realm. Of course, that is he ever finds someone like him.

To be honest, what I find more unusual is that I have been conscripted into the army even if I am of abnormal origin. Half-elves are, after all, not exactly of the mortal realm nor are we of what humans would think is beyond the boundary.

The mortal beings must be so desperate to defeat these gigantic serpentine creatures that leave nothing but destruction and demise in their wake when they, themselves, are of destructive nature albeit capable of good deeds. If there is one thing I am most aware of and have taken to heart in my 225 years is that no matter how good a person is, if they have no strong sense of who they are and/or what they stand for, give them a little push, inspire their greed, cloud their judgment and they will certainly do wrong. It’s the same for doing the right thing as well and yet, here we are.

Similar to the case that we are currently handling. Commander General Softpaw has given us a task to escort a potions mistress, Lucinda Alhertin, convicted of dragon-worship. Dragon-worship is considered as treason. Her nephew, Dylan, confessed to the crime yet all testimonies are against the boy being the prime suspect and even if he is, it is uncharacteristic of him. Everyone who knew him thought of him as a sweet boy and thus, the party has been led to believe that he has been controlled or brainwashed to murder his Aunt. Supporting this information is the fact that Jerod smelled a third unidentified smell in the area.

Other pieces of information found were the green orb and the blood in the bowl. Corporal Martell figured out that the murderer was left-handed and that the swing came from above. He also visibly noticed that Lucinda was kneeling while she was struck from behind as the ceremonial dagger was found lodged in her back. It is sufficient to say that either she was in the middle of her worship or that she was forced into that position to stage that she was a dragon worshipper instead of her just simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It is also worthy to note that she has a lot of cuts found on her arm and a fresh wound was found on her decayed body that the blood found on the bowl could be hers but what if it was made to look like that?

A lot of creatures do self-inflicted wounds for sheer pleasure. Her being a potions mistress could mean that she’s been using her blood to make potions that require blood. Also, the halfling mentioned something about the cabinet/table holding the dragon statue. During our first investigation, it passed over our heads that the dust has been newly settled on both the “altar” and where it has been placed as opposed to the other areas of the basement. I cannot get rid of the nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, the whole town has been under the influenced of the orb and that everyone’s memories have been...altered. Instead of Lucinda being the traitor, she might have been in fact trying to lift the curse since the elf who was posing as a vagrant did mention that she was inquiring about a scroll that could lift the curse.

I am now in possession of the green orb and of the dragon dagger. The team does look at me funny when I nonchalantly cut myself and offer my blood in order to find out the answer to this murder mystery. The vagrant did warn us that this orb is of otherworldly aura and has the power to alter memories and so, I have taken it to myself to write down everything that happens. For as much as I want to forget and just live my life entertaining the masses, I cannot especially my own personal mission. This, however, would be a good story to tell.

I have a lot of hypotheses to this riddle and it has certainly gotten my attention that I have forgotten to look for clues and the whereabouts of my remaining family. Coming from someone who used to be the star of the theatre troupe, you wouldn’t expect such a mind but literature and the humanities do offer insight to the psyche - almost to the point of paranoia.

I’m torn, my dear gods.

On the one hand, I’m still bent on exacting my wrath against those who tore us apart but on the other hand, it has been… fun being with this ragtag group. Who would have thought that it’s possible to find people[I] that you can consider er… a new family? in this wretched world. [/I]

It’s concerning and I hate it. I’m not religious but if you gods are real, someone… anyone, please give me a sign that I’m right.

As above, so below.
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Coming together and the Murder
Mother, Father,

I travelled north as you suggested and have joined with the strangest of folks. Most of them don't like that i'm small, but I'm winning them across slowly but surely. One has a pet drake that we saved when it was an egg, he however treats it as his son. It's quite perplexing and I'm sure the man isn't quite right of mind. Then there is a lady, almost twice my height, can you believe it, so tall!! Anyway she seems a little bit shady although hasn't crossed us yet. Now the next is a really tall man whom definitely didn't like that i was small of stature, and practically laughed when i put on my armour and strapped my sword to my back. We've had a few battles since we met and i think the trust is building - only as far as he can throw me, which actually isn't far with all my gear on but lets hope he gets stronger. Lastly is the strangest of creatures, to be quite honest I'm not sure what he is, but he's proved useful. This one doesn't really like our rations; prefers feet - human, kolbolds and so on, it's rather intriguing.

We are currently trying to solve a murder of a traitorous dragon worshipping lady. By all means i'm glad she's dead, but it seems to not be that simple. Her apprentice has a befuddled brain and does not recall what made him kill her and guilt consumes him for committing the act but not that it needed to be done. I'm tempted to write a letter of recommendation to Father Alstan, I think he'd be an apt addition to the Church.

The war continues to ravage The North and there seems to be betrayers abundant, even within the higher ranks of the military. Of course i can't give you any more details than that incase this letter doesn't make it to you but alas, more to speak about when next we meet.

Your loyal daughter,

P.S. The south seems relatively safe for the moment.

P.P.S. Give my hugs to all our little ducks, and I hope the last hatchings went without problems.

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Posted by the GM
Heroes of Cambria
Episode 1: Murder and Poverty
After sharing a few 'ronas in the local tavern, The Dirty Shame, our group of heroes got into a brawl with some ruffians led by a corrupt ex-guard captain. A few blows were thrown, and the Monk accidentally committed murder! All seemed lost, but clever thinking and quick witted words stopped anymore bloodshed. Visiting the paladins father, Rick, the adventurers were sent to exterminate some "rodents". This proved to be more complicated than assumed, as the rodents turned out to be some local poverty-stricken citizens. Without a second thought, the group quickly dispatched each and every person they found. Impressed by their skill, Rick then sent them to the Guard-Captain Valentia, who gave them a quest to rescue a group of young children from the Dire Swamp, located south west from Rivers-cross.
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Tags: Chronicle , NPC , Recap , Summary
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Posted by the GM
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Posted in PhD&D
Awake in the Underdark
Day 4

“Four days. Four days since I woke up in this prison cell, a slave of the Drow. I won’t bother you with a long tale about my life before this – that’s a story for another day. All that matters is that I had been travelling west from my home in the Taan for several seasons. And then, I awoke here. Somewhere in the waking nightmare known as the Underdark.

I must have been taken while I slept.

I’m not alone. I share my prison with over a dozen others. Most seem to be inhabitants of this place; I couldn’t tell you their peoples’ names, but I recognize a few from half remembered tales from my youth: stories of sadistic slavers from below who snatch wayward children in the night; of twisted, dwarf-like, creatures whose madness spreads to those around them; of dark, deep places where the everlasting sky is never seen.

There are a handful of surface folk here too. I recognize a mighty Dragonborn, an Orc, a Dwarf, a human, a Half-elf, and one who the others call a Gnome. When I first arrived I hoped that some might be powerful warriors or cunning sorcerers, but I’ve since realized that they are all as lost and helpless as I am.

There is no sky here. No stars to guide me.

There’s a good chance I may die deep in the dark.“


Day 5

Ish notices a commotion across from him in the cell. The Human and half-elf speak to each other in hushed, but animated tones. The thing standing behind them, the “walking mushroom” he heard another prisoner refer to as a Myconid, seems… excited? At first Ish tries to ignore the trio, but then notices the big Orc moving toward the Myconid. The Orc is powerfully built, but he’s not terribly good at hiding his intentions. The Myconid must have something the Orc has decided should be his.

Trusting his instincts, Ish springs across the cell knocking the Half-elf and Human aside as he moves past them. Ish reaches the strange mushroom like Myconid, and not sure what kind of danger it might pose, simply lifts it up and places it to one side. The soil where it stood is disturbed. Ish quickly clears away the dirt and uncovers something of true value: a metal bar.

Ish picks up the bar and turns to face the approaching Orc. Ish reads his aggressive intent and without hesitation strikes him across the face with the metal bar. The Orc falls backward, bleeding from the nose, and in a daze. Ish stands at the ready in case the Orc needs further clarification regarding the local Orchish hierarchy. The Orc, still dazed, signals his understanding by not counter-attacking.
Nearby, the Half-elf says something to his Dragonborn companion, but neither move aggressively.

Ish begins to relax.

After days of not speaking, Ish turns to his cell mates while holding the metal bar before him and says, “We can escape using this. Do any of you have other hidden weapons or tools?”

For a moment, everyone is silent. Then the Dragonborn replies, “I have a silk rope”.

For the first time in days Ish feels an intoxicating rush of hope. They have tools, perhaps weapons… and most importantly, his cell mates have not been broken. Several have been secretly plotting against their captors!

Ish is overwhelmed by his emotions and barks at the Dragonborn, “Give me the rope”.

The Dragonborn looks at him and calmly asks, “What will you use it for”?

Ish impatiently replies, “We don’t have time to talk Dragonborn, we must act now! Give me the rope.”

At that moment Ish hears two Drow slavers approaching from the guard house. Ish quickly returns to his spot by the cell door and hides the metal bar behind him. He hopes no one is foolish enough to give away their secret in an attempt at securing favors from the slavers. Ish would rather not kill any of his cell mates if he can help it. Their skills and strength might be useful later.

Everyone remains silent as two Drow guards move to within a few paces of the cell bars. They appear annoyed. The smaller of the two looks at Ish and in heavily accented Common yells,

“You there, what’s going here!?”

Ish stares ahead, expressionless. The Drow guards becomes visibly annoyed. The taller one smirks. He raises his hand crossbow and fires a dart at Ish. Unable to dodge the projectile at such close range, Ish feels a renewed sense of despair come over him when the dart strikes his flesh.

As the world fades, he hears faint whispers in the dark.


Day 6

… kill them all.

Ish wakes with a start. At first he is disoriented and struggles to understand where he is and how long he has been asleep.

Maybe it’s all been a nightmare?

Reality reaffirms itself. He is in a prison cell. In the Underdark.

The metal bar!

It’s still there. His cell mates did not take it while he was unconscious. For a moment Ish struggles to contain his surprise at the significance of their restraint.

Perhaps I’ve misjudged them.

Barbarian raiders are not known for trusting strangers. However, they are eminently practical and know that no warrior survives long without comrades-in-arms at their side.

Ish looks to the Gnome, and for the first time address her by name,
"Szai, why did you not attempt to escape while I slept?”…
Session: Game Session - Sunday, Mar 26 2017 from 10:00 AM to 2:30 PM
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Tags: Chronicle
Epic × 3!
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