Laerrigan's journal, part III

Day 8 continued
What in the world am I numbering these days from?  Starting new journal book, don't much feel like searching back through last one to find out.  Just go with what works for now.
       After relatively comfortable nap (relative to where we just came from) in jouncing, rumbling carriage, it occurred to me how much I left out of last journal entry.  Not a great lot, really, but important and perhaps disturbing.  With embarrassingly small amount I've actually taught Dor about magic during all this time we've travelled together (I don't think I'm much better than he when it comes to sticking to something over long period of time), he's now spontaneously manifested ability to cast at least a few simple spells.  Fire, of course.  He prestidigitated small flame-ball in hand when facing oncoming horde of kobolds in tunnel under inn.  Then he stared at it and tried to eat it.  Almost thought I'd have to make him invisible and toss him behind us just to keep him safe, assuming I'd have time before enemy was upon us.  Snapped out of reverie, though, upon burning his tongue.  And his subsequent fire-cone did suspicious amount of damage for first time--not only is he surely half gnome, he must have elemental blood or something in there somewhere.  As mixed-up as I am.  I think the little bastard did more damage with that fire than I would have.  I take full credit.  I taught him, blast it all.  Sort of.  I also, without thought, suggested he use ghost sound to spur the lazy carriage horse faster than a plod, when we first started out from inn (he did ask what to do to that effect; rather, he compained about defective horse, and I was trying to write and didn't want to listen to complaints).  Sound of wolves snapping viciously behind its head sent horse into conniptions.  Driver's bench was kicked to pieces, and beanhead actually managed to roll the carriage.  I didn't think that was possible.  Fortunately we were hardly moving at all at that point.  I think I'll agree that this horse is defective.  I gave it whiff of that flask of Overkill Liqueur, hoping to sedate it slightly, and it promptly fell over on its side in daze.  We're currently traveling by using summoned mount in harness.  I'm trading off with Dor on that spell.  There are certain benefits to having another caster around.

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Day 1 back on the road
Spent three days in town while I experimented with making small magic items.  Dor and Viktor entered hand-to-hand matches in a small arena to pass the time; Podge accompanied them and was quite happy with getting to sneak around the stands and bite people by surprise.  I don't know why I feel this need to send him with Dor when we're apart for a time.  Since then, I'm starting to think I won't bother any more.
       Dor handled arrangements and signed us on with a half-orc bard in a purple coat, named Mahv (suspiciously close to name of color he wears).  Mahv is riding out to intercept a small caravan, wanting to get hold of a particular item.  He says we can have our pick of whatever other loot is to be found.  I need to ask him if he knows of Illyrio.  Wouldn't it be absolutely grand if it just happened to be one of his caravans?  I wonder if I could think up some personally-identifying sign--one he'd recognize--to affix to the head of his caravan master and then find some way to get it to him?  But when has wishful thinking ever become reality in my life?  Rather relaxing to contemplate as I lie and wait for sleep, though...
       I'd thought I wouldn't have long to wait after lying down tonight.  We rode in that carriage all day (I tried to get Mahv and Dor out of town while Viktor was passed out drunk, but Dor especially insisted on no man left behind), then attempted to make camp.  I say "attempted" because Dor had slept in the carriage for most of the ride and was feeling quite bouncy by that time.  I didn't care that the grass and scattered trees were on fire; it was in a ring around us, burning outward.  We were safe.  As I told Mahv, you get used to it, traveling with that beanhead.  But Dor wanted to continue onward anyway, covering more distance before camping, and Mahv gave in (probably to shut him up and keep him from burning anything else).  So we got back into the carriage and traveled onward, driven by a half-orc who apparently had by then been awake for two days straight.  Viktor had wet himself yet again in his drunken sleep (surely nothing to do with the mug of warm water his hand somehow fell into), and the carriage's interior smelled like wine and urine, so I stretched out between luggage rails atop the vehicle for sleep.  Mahv proceded to use me as a table for conjuring muffins for Dor's gastric entertainment.  I've lost track of exactly how things played out from there, but somewhere along the way Dor dealt me a very underhanded blow and tried to shove me off the roof.  I cast darkness on him, and did my best to shove him off in turn while he was blinded and I wasn't.  I ended up losing my balance in the struggle, with the carriage swaying and jolting as horse and driver panicked in the pitch blackness, and I was the one who fell after all.  The carriage wrapped its front end around a tree (the horse disspelled on impact).  Dor was still blinded by the spell, and I threw a dagger as he carefully started climbing down from the roof of the carriage, just barely making myself aim beside him instead of at him.  At least we were stopped for the night.  I pulled out my bedroll and lay down again.  Dor pulled out a shovel and started digging a hole.  I finally got back up and went over to him, but he sensed something suspicious and wouldn't even let me flick at a bug supposedly on his shoulder.  So I transferred the spell to Podge and told Dor he wasn't sleepy and wanted to stay with him.  Podge jumped to Dor's shoulder and hit him with fatigue, and he decided that maybe he should just curl up in his shallow hole and go to sleep after all.  And at last we had peace.
       Except that now I can't sleep.  I want to kill Illyrio.  And I'm starting to think I might like to use Dor as the blunt object for doing it.
       ....It's now several hours later, same night.  I've slept enough.  Particularly in light of energy rush from band of goblins that attacked.  We managed to hear them soon enough for me to toss out a couple of spells in preparation, web on one side (where there were enough trees) and acid fog on the other, making it more difficult for them to flank us.  A number of them just happened to be slinking along close enough to be caught in spells' areas rather than stumbling into them.  I think that even I would label me as rather smug at the moment.  When only the goblins caught in the web were left alive, Dor set fire to the web from a few directions at once.  Pleasant little writhing bonfire.  We prestidigitated jerky to taste like marshmallows and roasted it on sticks.  Mahv was minorly horrified.  Too bad.  You take what you can get, when hiring strangers for illegal activities.
       I now have worg head, heart, and slab of meat carved from its flank, sitting in anaerobic environment of bag of holding.  I think Viktor will wake up to new surprise next time he drinks himself unconscious.

Day 3
Found the caravan this afternoon.  Paid 100 gold each to join it as if seeking protection while traveling.  I tried to barter by offering Viktor as a slave, but was refused.  I did my best job of casing, while Dor lurked out of sight and Viktor and Mahv strolled along just chatting with the mounted guards and wagon drivers.  My suggestion that Dor stay hidden while we joined the caravan was intended to allow us a surprise attack in the middle of the night, so we might have some chance of finding whatever Mahv was looking for, grabbing some loot for ourselves, and getting out of there without too much slaughter (of them or us).  Why do I bother?  Dor sprang the whole thing before we'd even stopped for the night, throwing a grease spell in front of the lead wagon and severely upsetting the horses.  By the time it was over, everyone in the caravan was dead, two of the three wagons were char, and I had three arrows sticking out of me after taking several nasty spells full in the face from the mage who led the caravan.  I'd also lost Handy when I used him in distracting one of the guards (approached him invisibly, got Handy riled up, and let the thing grab hold and wreak vengeance on an unmentionable part of the guard's anatomy).  Dor thoughtfully ripped the arrows out when I wasn't looking, not even giving me a chance for self-anesthetization with that overly-powerful liqueur.  I actually managed to punch him.  Not much of a victory, because I don't think he intended to dodge.
       Mahv's coveted prize, worth the destruction of a wagon train and everyone in it, was a wand.  I think it was charged with knock.  He whipped that teal-green dragonhide box out of his pack and tried to open it with the wand.  It knocked him out and knocked him flat.  I took the box.  I now know one more way not to try opening it.  I wonder if I'll ever see the red one again.  Maybe I'll one day get to kill Illyrio, and I'll find it in his ample gut.
       Feeling slightly better about prospect of facing down another caster such as he.  I took down that mage in this caravan myself.  Odd feeling, after lifetime of vast inadequacy in the face of Tammanath's greater power.
       Our haul from this venture is very satisfying, including an extremely enhanced greataxe and an intelligent sword.  So far the sword has proven to be more stable and understandable company than anyone else here.  Maybe I'll hang onto it, even if I literally couldn't swing it properly to save my life.  Aside from that, we still have a very sizable load to sell off.  I destroyed the crates that bore brands that resembled that bloody amulet Dor had, and also the broken one found on the derelict ship way back when.  And Dor used his magic finger-paint set to disguise the one wagon we kept.  Hopefully nothing identifiable remains.  We'll sell all that we can at the next town.
       Meanwhile, I had a nebulous idea which I tried and it worked.  I was able to animate a dead squirrel that Podge brought in, without even using a spell or its material component.  It only lasted a few minutes before crumbling, but I briefly had a loyal zombie squirrel.  This has potential; must keep thinking, and make more attempts.  Perhaps adding an onyx stone would extend their life.
       I'm making stew at the moment, using ingredients from one of the wagons and some fresh meat Podge and Dor caught.  I'm tired of trail foods.  Mahv is still unconscious.

Day 6
Back in another town.  We were able to sell some of our loot, but the more valuable items will have to be taken elsewhere to find people with enough money to buy them.  And so we're heading out for, of all places, Lord Reddling's city.  I wonder what I can think up for Alys...

Day 9
Now we're in that town with the arena.  Apparently Dor's and Viktor's reputations got around since last time; a dwarf and a half-orc challenged them personally to a meeting in the arena.  Dor was elated at the chance to beat up a half-orc without consequence.  He was fairly well beaten himself, but he prevailed (almost entirely by repeatedly tricking his opponent and getting in sucker-punches).  Viktor also won his fight with the dwarf, and those two went off to drink together.
       This evening, I browsed back through my journal entries from my time aboard Morgan's ship.  My priorities and goals underwent a fundamental realignment.  Doing something unpleasant to Alys would be greatly satisfying, but finding some means of ruining things for Illyrio would be infinitely more so.  Perhaps Reddling will know something of that merchant, his activities, and his whereabouts, or at least be able to direct me to someone who might; a nobleman would be much more likely to have information or at least access to it.  Maybe maintaining our relative favor with that particular lord would be expedient for now.  If I can only learn more about Illyrio's disappearing ships and/or those amulets, I might be able to contact someone with some degree of power who wishes Illyrio ill.
       I'm still not entirely certain where this obsession with harming that individual comes from.  In all truth, he's done nothing but look after his own interests in the most efficient manner possible at any given time, something I can hardly fault aside from purely personal bias because I happened to be caught in the gears.  Perhaps I'm merely transferring self-hatred for my reaction in his dungeon.  Perhaps a more malevolent side is emerging from my heritage and locking onto that source of irritation, after first rising to the surface in that very dungeon.  I truly don't care.  I wish that fact scared me.

Day 11
A group of ten mounted bandits attacked our wagon today.  The wagon is now burned to the ground.  Fortunately Dor and I are now paranoid enough to keep our packs with us at all times, so we didn't lose anything.  Viktor's few possessions were burned up, though.  Again.
       I had the others just knock one of the soldiers out, instead of killing him.  Dor wants to give him a healing potion and then question him when he wakes, hoping to learn if there are any more of his band around and if they have any hidden treasure nearby.  I want to find out if these men were working for anyone, or simply acting on their own.  Since Baldur's Gate, I can't quite rule out the possibility of conspiracy behind just about anything that attacks us.  But mostly I want a suitably fresh zombie when we approach a town, as I'm sure the one I animated today from among the dead bandits will be in noxious shape by then, and I would like to keep a porter now that we have no wagon.  At least I also have a zombie horse and can thus travel a little bit farther without returning to walking.
       Milestone: Viktor actually hit me.  Might have to retreat back into greater subtlety in dealing with that one.  He's seemed so totally oblivious up to now.  My campaign to get him sober will have to move more carefully...

Day 15
Sitting in an inn's common room right now.  Traded old zombie for new one outside town; left old one hiding just out of sight of road with orders to peek at any travelers that pass and, if they carry anything marked with the symbol of that amulet, to attack.  Also did my best to make the horse presentable by both mundane and magical means.  Had to claim it had mange when attempting to stable it for the night, but as luck would have it, stablehand knew how to cure mange.  I finally took horse out to far side of town and released it out of sight of gate, sending it ahead to wait for us.
       Right now, Dor is conversing with innkeeper, who has a knack for handling Dor's nonsensical communication.  Much like CW.  I wonder where he went.  If he's still alive.  Can't help but miss him; something reliable in the psychotic three-ring circus that my life has become.  Dor is chasing hallucinatory pillows.  He just climbed the inside of the town wall in his pursuit and lept viciously from the top of it, out into open air, when the pillow did.  Viktor is drunk.  "Again" or "still?"  I used to have a pretty good idea of what each day would hold.  Then I left the tower to see what the world outside was like.  I don't think I'd make that mistake again.  Earlier this afternoon I watched without reaction as Dor and Viktor worked together to kill a thoroughly-bound man by suffocating him unconscious and pouring turpentine down his throat.  Because I needed another undead porter.
       Blast it all, he was as good as dead from the moment he attacked our wagon.  All I did was delay the end until an opportune moment.  I never told him we'd let him go.  Never even implied it.  Like carrying a live chicken on a journey in order to have fresh meat on a night when the hunting is poor.
       Gods above, I'm sick.
       Later same night....Inn nearly burned down.  The burning part isn't surprising; the "nearly" is what strikes me as odd.  Dor is usually very...effective.  I can only assume the innkeeper has tremendous fire-snuffing magic in place on his building.  So we set out on the road again without sleep.  As Dor pointed out, however, we're ahead in the game; we had supper, bathed, and left town.  We're not in a dungeon.  We have all our belongings.  And as far as we know, no one died.  The rest of the town didn't even catch fire.  Unfortunately, we are, as I write, captives of a sort in Reddling's castle.
       Reddling's resident mage appeared from nowhere at our campsite once we stopped walking from that town.  He said he'd been scrying on us for the past few days, and that his lord was convinced we were the people for his purposes.  Apparently he has a job for us.  Reddling's RM teleported us all to the castle and set us up in a fancy sleeping chamber complete with a feast covering a table.
       The door isn't locked.  The hidden door in the back of the closet only leads down stairs to the kitchen (no vampires; I rolled a sleeping Dor down the stairs to make sure).  I've checked the rest of the room and have found no other secret hatches.  Dor and Viktor have gladly fallen into the clutches of the sleep-inducing pillows (I took the opportunity to lightly beat that halfling after all he's beaten me, because he wouldn't wake up, but I did make sure not to actually damage him, he'll just have sore spots on the sides of his legs in the places he always hits when he deadlegs me).  I slept for a short time after getting a faceful of stuffing-feathers from one pillow that Dor burst open, but now I'm awake.  Very awake.  I covered the one little source of light in order to leave the room pitch black, where at least I can see better than many creatures.  And I'm watching.
       I have no idea what I'm watching for.  In his scrying, RM must have seen what we did with that captive bandit.  And how the inn caught fire.  This sort of welcome under the circumstances is highly suspicious.  I can't sleep.  I keep hearing the noise he made when he was unconscious and the turpentine was poured.







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This journal will be continually updated as the campaign progresses.  Keep checking back, and please try not to faint with anticipation.

<--- journal, part II

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