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Oh, she’s heavy. Fuckin’ ...
Oh, she’s heavy. Fuckin’ harpies. Miraculously, I haven’t been hit yet, though one arrow pierces the leather covering my foot, and lodges deep in the earthen floor, so that I have to struggle to remain upright while keeping my grip on Meena, whose slack form is slick with the harpies’ vile shit. I look over and Boudica still lies in filth, utterly motionless. Mirilda and Leon are figuring out how to get her out of here, as Tor casts silence to at least shield us from the shrieking. There are fifteen of them to our six, and I can’t believe none of us are dead yet. Their skill with the bows is inspiring, and what I wouldn’t give to respond in kind, but Meena is more important than my vanity, and it’s all I can do to creep along with her impressive frame. I manage to break the arrow off, just above where it is lodged against the arch of my right foot, and continue unceremoniously dragging Meena toward the relative safety of the hall, with its lower ceiling. I feel a movement in the air above my left ear, and when I reach up, it is to work an arrow out of one of my thick braids. “Thanks, you hateful, winged oath,” I mutter. This goes in my quiver.

I haven’t even had time to come to terms with the fact that we killed an innocent. A paladin. I should have been more mindful. I should have known. I’ve grown accustomed now to killing, and because of that, a creature who dedicated his life to the pursuit of all that is good, is dead. What is this place doing to me?
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Fucking Harpies

Mirilda never would have thought seeing daylight filtered through a rain of shit would ever make her happy, but it felt like ages since she had seen light other than that coming from a torch.

It had only been a few days since they reentered the Barrowmaze, but the endless darkness made it seem a lot longer. Was it day? Was it night? You could never tell. The darkness was oppressive. Even the stonewalls had turned black with mold from years in the damp darkness.

Mirilda had never been one to frolic in the sunlight but seeing the daylight after days in blackness was invigorating. It was mesmerizing.

The sound of the harpies vulgar taunts and cackles faded into the background while Mirilda tilted her face up to the light and closed her eyes. She reveled in the feeling of the distant light hitting her skin, as limited as it was.

Splat! Mirilda was jolted out of her trance as a piece of shit flew past her ear and hit the wall by her head.

Fucking harpies.
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Hurricane Hannah

Rocque was attached by a pirate shade, but defeats it. Rocque is now possessed by Bekendi (Party does not know that this point).

The rest of us on the ship are trying to decide how to get Rocque back. Flayer scrys Rocque and he appears to be possessed as he is floating and casting magic....yeah he is possessed. Hector heals Sharky of one of his two negative levels. Hannah casts invisibility sphere so we can sneak back into the fort and fly on Sharky. Hector casts silence on a coin. Hector gives Bekindi the shard. He is successful, and moves on. Rocque goes through the portal and the shard starts to fall. Sharky reaches out to grab the shard and gets trapped in the shard too!

Hannah breaks the shard open and everyone is released! Sharky and Feredir are now back with the group. Hector casts a 5th level spell into the transporter and we go after Rocque. We find Rocque almost eating paper because he is hungry! Sharky gives him food and we review the papers. Most are about the ritual Bekindi made, but one is a map of the island. The map says there is a shrine to the cyclopean goddess, but it is under water.

The party decides to clear out the rest of the cyclops in the area. We find the bodies and everything has been cleaned up. We explore further and it appears the cyclops have left the building! We open a door and find an outdoor courtyard. We decide to explore the courtyard. The courtyard has an open ceiling that is letting in natural light. Hannah hears cyclops engaged in battle and we investigate. We find a group of cyclops and engage them. We slay the group.
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Boudica unleashed her lightning bolt before the wight had fully risen from its glass sarcophagus. The energy was nearly invisible – there was only the briefest crackle of light - but Leon and Tor still winced as it pulsed from Boudica’s fingertip, as the wight stiffened and convulsed. No doubt they too could feel the energy, feel their skin ripple and their hairs stand on end. Then a sharp, acrid odor, as if the air itself had been singed.

Boudica could feel her power as a magic-user growing each day, yet she was frustrated. This was just another undead monster like the others, and though its sack doubtless contained treasure, Boudica did not care. All that mattered now was the tablet, but no matter how long they searched, no matter how far they delved into the barrows, they still had no idea where it was. How much longer and farther would they have to go?

The longer Boudica was down here, the more the warmth and strength of Pelor’s grace seemed to fade. This worried her. She thought Meena, Mirilda and Aimorel must be feeling even more oppressed, for they had chosen to hide in a room down the hall rather than face this thing. Their behavior was puzzling and unsettling, for she Boudica knew that the Unchained would face increasingly powerful and terrifying foes as they neared the tablet, wherever it was. She promised herself she would press on alone if she had to, but she prayed it would not come to that.

Boudica felt a surge of joy as she watched the wight’s empty eyes brighten with what looked like pain. Her hatred for these undead had grown deep and virulent. This too worried her. Was she becoming corrupted by the evil that permeated these tombs? She shook her head, tightened her grip on Ravager as the wight stopped convulsing and snapped its head around, its eyes glowing with a rage that chilled Boudica to her bones. Boudica mumbled a prayer to Pelor, braced herself.

Then she heard Tor chanting, and the wight shuddered, opened its mouth and shrieked like a quavering banshee. It raised its arms to shield itself from Tor, who lately looked nearly as terrifying as the undead, tumbled from its perch on the coffin and crawled across the dirty floor, pressed itself into the corner of the room like a frightened rat. Boudica lowered her axe, nodded to Tor. She feared his new deity, for it seemed as dark and evil as these tombs, but its power was undeniable.

Did Tor feel as oppressed and frustrated as she did? Boudica doubted that, and for a moment her faith wavered. Tor now walked these barrows with confidence, almost impunity, while she constantly fought to maintain her strength and hope. What did Zuul offer that Pelor did not? Had she chosen her faith poorly?

Boudica watched as Tor and Leon sorted through the gems in the bag. No, she decided. If she felt at risk of being seduced by the barrows’ dark power, how much more dangerous was this place for Tor? Already he seemed changed, and she worried that those changes would deepen and multiply the further they delved. Her body and life might be more at risk down here, but her soul was far safer. This thought comforted her.

She whispered a brief prayer, asking Pelor’s forgiveness for her uncertainty. She ran her fingers over the ridged sunburst on her necklace, hefted Ravager onto her shoulder, and stepped back into the hall.
Session: Game Session 20 - Sunday, May 28 2017 from 4:00 PM to 11:00 PM
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Posted in Flameweaver
From the Desk of Dr. Cody, MDe, FCNAS, FUBaR, PCP, DTF, SWF, Esq.
I'm beginning to wonder if I have a problem. No, not the drinking. I can control my habit, and stop any time I so choose. Besides, drink affects my performance as little as a drizzle affects a river. No, not schilling the locals either. I move around frequently enough and have enough aliases to fall back on that it becomes a non-issue.

Honestly, its laughable that this group honestly believes I gave them my true name! I'm at the pinnacle of my craft, and there has never been a better time to cash in on it. It looks like we're getting involved with the Harpers, so skill with words and misdirection just became the most valuable commodity we could have.

And yours truly has a monopoly in this little band. That and healing potions, as it turns out. I imagine we'll be on the road for some time before they realize that no one else seems to have stocked up, and from there it will become a matter of supply and demand. Now don't get me wrong, I don't want them dead or anything like that. Worst case I'll run tabs for them, I just don't plan on being drained dry of money and assets for the 'greater good' with nothing to show for it.

So long as the Harpers pay I don't see this becoming a problem, but until I see coin I'm stuck taking them at their word.

No, my problem is much more worrisome than these trifles. I'm beginning to lose short tracks of time in the middle of battle. Nothing terribly long, mind you. Just enough that it raises concern. I'm in the thick of things, calling up my talent and putting down whatever current opposition is in place and bam! One or two minutes later I'm back, looking up at the sky of the day and missing the time between.

I'm keeping a record for now, in lieu of seeking outside assistance or voicing concern. I'm not ready to make this matter public, as I don't know if it affects any of them.

As for them, I have to say I'm worried. Not in the sense of knowing them intimately, but knowing them in the sense of business. Gain and loss. Risk versus reward. Simile versus metaphor.

They're quick to dismiss me and my talents, and I don't begrudge that. In a sense I almost admire it. They seem to know enough to look before speaking, which puts them above the average coin purse with legs, though its hardly enough by itself.

Their... our? Hmm. Their leader, the female Gnome seems to be a tough nut to crack. She's slow to trust anyone new it seems, and is severe in her mood. It isn't hard to see whom she already has pull over in the group, even if I wasn't watching all of them intently. I'll allow myself to be led so long as I agree with her choices overall, but given her volatility I remain wary.

The other Gnomes don't concern me. The one who was resurrected will follow her no matter what. (Note: Learn. Names.) He's smart enough to know he's smart, which can be either very good or very bad. I'm hoping his ego is smaller than he is, or this outing could be problematic.

Our Gnome cleric is... refreshing? I'm unsure how to define it. Usually anyone in the cloth is stuffy, high-nosed and prude. Him though? His mood is open, he embraces chance and can drink a hell of a lot of swill. Points in his favor, though I worry about the day the drinks run out.

That being said, the other heavy drinker is an oddity to me. He remains passive in discussions the better part of the time, keeps a fairly even keel in most situations... and then goes barreling in during combat situations with little regard to self-preservation or positioning. There's an old saying that a man that drinks like that is going to die, but he seems to embrace that a little too readily.

The new hunter doesn't concern me. He seems obsessed with some omen or vision, and history snuffs out his type without any help from me. He wants to walk the path of a prophet, and that's his business.

The moon elf is a worry. She's clearly seen or been through something horrible, and I'm not sure she won't crack. A normal person's crackup is bad enough, but she can throw around just enough power to be dangerous.

Pearl is keeping her distance it seems, but I don't mind. The Harpers want subterfuge, and this could be an environment that she can flourish in. She needs to learn to blend in though, since a white Tiefling sticks out like a sore thumb. I'm thinking some time around a disguise kit is in her future.

Thaaat brings us to Drit. That man scares the ever-loving shit out of me. He's either the most lucky fool I've ever met or the most unlucky genius I've ever met. It seems like he either misses outright or lands a sure hit that doesn't seem to do much of anything almost every time he raises his sword or nocks an arrow. Then there are those rare moments that his attack seems to turn the tide of the entire battlefield. I've heard the Gnomes mention that he once repelled a blue dragon single-handedly, and after seeing him in action I almost believe it.

That being said, I really really hope he's just a lucky fool. If he knows enough to try and change his own luck he could very well be the death of us all.

As it is, I've got just over forty days to teach this bunch enough about deception to keep them from getting me killed. I'll play nice for now, seeing as how our destination and goals are loosely aligned. But immortality or not, I'm not going to die for them.


Misty! Was it Misty? I think it's Misty. I really need to pick up these damn names.
Session: Game Session - Sunday, Jun 04 2017 from 3:00 PM to 9:00 PM
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Epic × 4!