Since my previous entries were written on scraps of loose paper, I've transcribed my first few entries into this new tome, with slight enhancements to spelling and grammar. Not that I made any mistakes, these are simply "enhancements" to get the full impact of my heroics impressed upon you the reader.
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Finally, excitement! I've been laboring in this mining town for weeks, guarding these miners from what I thought was an imagined threat. There were rumors of strange noises and workers going missing, but I had seen none of it. As I returned to the mines each day, I contemplated looking for work elsewhere when we were molested by a massive rust colored beast! It had tunneled through the cave walls right on top of the working crews. I sprang into action, along with another guard, a wizard named Deter. We managed to put the beast down, but the miners had already run off screaming like infant banshees crying for their mother's collective teat. Without the miners, or a map, Deter and I wandered the mines for days.
We were about to run out of rations when we spied a patrol of orcs. Knowing that orcs are savage brutes who were probably up to something that needed thwarting, we struck with haste; only to realize there was another haberdashery of orcs waiting further down the tunnels. (A haberdashery is the technical term for a group of orcs in the wild.) We were forced to retreat and fled deeper into the cave network. In our wanderings we had realized the mines went down further than any of the miners could tell; we'd seen signs of ancient people actually living in these dank caverns and erecting temples left to ruin. After two more days we stumbled upon a dwarven shrine of some sort, where we encountered adventurers! A group of diverse races, from all walks oflife and wielding all manner of weapons, magic and armor - a more obvious sign of a band of heroes questing there is not.
Deter and I introduced ourselves, but our heroes were reluctant to reciprocate. They had learned that some of the mountain was still inhabited by a cult of Bane worshipers, populating a series of elementally affiliated temples. These heroes had tried to conquer a temple of Wind infested with the death cult. One of them had fallen in battle and was resurrected in the service of the Dark Lord. Surprised by the betrayal, two more of their comrades had fallen, further breaking their spirits. They retreated back to safe ground and mourn for their lost allies.
I was incensed! I had finally found a task worthy of my skills! By all the teachings of the Order of the Pointed Stick I was obligated to help them avenge the fallen. They finally agreed and we returned to the temple, encountering a foul warlock named Kaiden, his orc sergeant at arms and a poontangle of gnolls. Deiter and a warrior woman, Rikka, a Bahamut worshipping punch master, felled the dog men with ease. This left me and a savage brute named Rog, some variety of half giant, half dwarf, half bull elephant seal to work together to vanquish the orc sergeant. He tried to deny me the privilege of facing him, focusing on the barbarian, but I went upside his head with my hammer and got his attention forthright!
The warlock tried to resurrect his fallen gnoll servants, but Deiter was able to suppress the smelly furred nemeses. Kaiden unleashed a vile torrent of potty talk in frustration, and I was so incensed by his sass-mouth I threatened to wash is mouth with the soap of righteousness! His defenses were formidable, but with my endless pursuit to slow him down the others were able to surround him and introduced his insides to his outsides.
The enemy vanquished, the party took a moment to grieve for the triumphant dead. Leaving them to mourn, I found a pack from which I sought to replenish my depleted rations. I found the belongings of an orc warrior, some primitive battle master of wild magic and armor. His name was Rook, and he had attempted to chronicle his adventures with primitive chicken-scratch drawings. They have journeyed far and long, triumphing over dragons and even something that looks like a grell, unless there's some other "Giant Flying Hate Brain" menacing these lands I don't know about. And there isn't!
Although an almost feral brute, Rook was on to a smashing idea. I've been adventuring since I left the Order years ago, and although I'm fabled in song and tale (probably) I've never physically contributed to establishing my own history. I can hardly read Rook's balderdash hand writing, but it makes a thrilling tale. While I've been complacent defending these miners, Neebo has lead this band into terrible dungeons, abyssal haunts, and whatever it is that Rook mistook for an evil bakery. I'm sure he's in error, but for a moment I wish it could be true - I'd much rather be in a sweet smelling den of haunted baked goods than some dank rotten cave inhabited by scaly fish men and umber hulks. While I'm more of a raconteur than Rook, I must attest his scrawlings add much flavor to the narrative. I shall continue his practice, chronicling my own epic tale joined with this troupe of heroes as long as I am able. This legend has much left untold.
Rest assured, dear reader - there is glory ahead!
Finally, excitement! I've been laboring in this mining town for weeks, guarding these miners from what I thought was an imagined threat. There were rumors of strange noises and workers going missing, but I had seen none of it. As I returned to the mines each day, I contemplated looking for work elsewhere when we were molested by a massive rust colored beast! It had tunneled through the cave walls right on top of the working crews. I sprang into action, along with another guard, a wizard named Deter. We managed to put the beast down, but the miners had already run off screaming like infant banshees crying for their mother's collective teat. Without the miners, or a map, Deter and I wandered the mines for days.
We were about to run out of rations when we spied a patrol of orcs. Knowing that orcs are savage brutes who were probably up to something that needed thwarting, we struck with haste; only to realize there was another haberdashery of orcs waiting further down the tunnels. (A haberdashery is the technical term for a group of orcs in the wild.) We were forced to retreat and fled deeper into the cave network. In our wanderings we had realized the mines went down further than any of the miners could tell; we'd seen signs of ancient people actually living in these dank caverns and erecting temples left to ruin. After two more days we stumbled upon a dwarven shrine of some sort, where we encountered adventurers! A group of diverse races, from all walks oflife and wielding all manner of weapons, magic and armor - a more obvious sign of a band of heroes questing there is not.
Deter and I introduced ourselves, but our heroes were reluctant to reciprocate. They had learned that some of the mountain was still inhabited by a cult of Bane worshipers, populating a series of elementally affiliated temples. These heroes had tried to conquer a temple of Wind infested with the death cult. One of them had fallen in battle and was resurrected in the service of the Dark Lord. Surprised by the betrayal, two more of their comrades had fallen, further breaking their spirits. They retreated back to safe ground and mourn for their lost allies.
I was incensed! I had finally found a task worthy of my skills! By all the teachings of the Order of the Pointed Stick I was obligated to help them avenge the fallen. They finally agreed and we returned to the temple, encountering a foul warlock named Kaiden, his orc sergeant at arms and a poontangle of gnolls. Deiter and a warrior woman, Rikka, a Bahamut worshipping punch master, felled the dog men with ease. This left me and a savage brute named Rog, some variety of half giant, half dwarf, half bull elephant seal to work together to vanquish the orc sergeant. He tried to deny me the privilege of facing him, focusing on the barbarian, but I went upside his head with my hammer and got his attention forthright!
The warlock tried to resurrect his fallen gnoll servants, but Deiter was able to suppress the smelly furred nemeses. Kaiden unleashed a vile torrent of potty talk in frustration, and I was so incensed by his sass-mouth I threatened to wash is mouth with the soap of righteousness! His defenses were formidable, but with my endless pursuit to slow him down the others were able to surround him and introduced his insides to his outsides.
The enemy vanquished, the party took a moment to grieve for the triumphant dead. Leaving them to mourn, I found a pack from which I sought to replenish my depleted rations. I found the belongings of an orc warrior, some primitive battle master of wild magic and armor. His name was Rook, and he had attempted to chronicle his adventures with primitive chicken-scratch drawings. They have journeyed far and long, triumphing over dragons and even something that looks like a grell, unless there's some other "Giant Flying Hate Brain" menacing these lands I don't know about. And there isn't!
Although an almost feral brute, Rook was on to a smashing idea. I've been adventuring since I left the Order years ago, and although I'm fabled in song and tale (probably) I've never physically contributed to establishing my own history. I can hardly read Rook's balderdash hand writing, but it makes a thrilling tale. While I've been complacent defending these miners, Neebo has lead this band into terrible dungeons, abyssal haunts, and whatever it is that Rook mistook for an evil bakery. I'm sure he's in error, but for a moment I wish it could be true - I'd much rather be in a sweet smelling den of haunted baked goods than some dank rotten cave inhabited by scaly fish men and umber hulks. While I'm more of a raconteur than Rook, I must attest his scrawlings add much flavor to the narrative. I shall continue his practice, chronicling my own epic tale joined with this troupe of heroes as long as I am able. This legend has much left untold.
Rest assured, dear reader - there is glory ahead!
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