Chapter 11
NOW
Only two days prior, we'd saved a group of kobolds slaves, killed all of the Valsharess' troops in the beholder caverns, and then killed the eye tyrant and all of her friends.
Battle won, as we searched the Eye Tyran's chambers for anything of worth, Nathyrra had shown a particular interest in a large seam in the otherwise perfectly circular stone chamber. It was just big enough for Valen to squeeze through without his emerald full-plate on if required. She had called for our attention, drawing her short sword slowly past the opening and watching with a tilt to her head as her blade's magically enhanced glow dulled on every pass of the gap.
With deliberation that had been purely for show, I'd insisted that anything in there wasn't worth the risk, and we'd moved into a different room — as far from the wide-eyed corpses as possible — to sleep and recuperate.
We'd fared fairly well against the eye tyrant and her hive — shots to the eye being easier than usual, given the physical makeup of our enemy.
There had only been one particularly awkward instance in which I'd become a little confused, firing a volley of shots directly at Nathyrra, thinking her one of the Valsharess' Red Sisters.
Thankfully, Valen, who had looked suddenly like a demon summoned straight out of hell — with huge twisted horns and leathery wings — had grappled my bow from me a soon as he'd heard Nathyrra's alarmed cry. At first, I'd thought the hulking demon was attacking me — as he'd hissed something desperately in a demonic tongue. But he only ended up holding my arms at my sides in a powerful grip, ignoring my protests as I'd struggled. I finally shook off the Beholder's confusion when I'd — sheepishly — realised the 'demon' didn't actually mean me any harm and that the 'Red Sister' wasn't attacking me.
Nathyrra had been none the worse for wear.
I mean, I'd barely grazed her arm before she'd realised what had happened; seeking safely behind an attacking beholder's floating body.
For once, we had plenty of healing potions to spare for the next leg of our trip.
Which was fortunate — I had no doubt that we would need them.
The following day, we found ourselves travelling directly to Drearing's Deep, where Nathyrra had reported the Valsharess' undead were coming from. I'd opted to retrace our steps back to Lith My'athar, to report to the Seer and sell our excess items. But we had ultimately deemed that detour more of a risk, than a benefit. I suspected the Valsharesses troops wouldn't attack until we had completed the majority of our missions, but I wasn't going to risk it and fight Valen and Nathyrra on the matter.
Especially after how irritated the drow had been at skipping the Isle of the Maker the previous week.
The majority of our journey from the beholder's cavern had been — whilst not pleasant — lacking the usual horribleness which I had come to expect from the Underdark.
We'd spent most of the prior day travelling through a smooth tunnel, wide enough for us to all stand shoulder-to-shoulder comfortably. Though dotted with the occasional stalagmite, column and rocky formation, the middle of the tunnel was bereft of the obstacles I'd become used to navigating. Rock falls, escarpments, piles of granite, limestone slick floors, even cracks in the ground had been absent.
It was only later that day, when we were back in the open, that I commented on the ease of our travel. And only then did Nathyrra deem to mention that we had spent the day walking one of the Valsharess' maintained roadways.
I counted my blessings that we hadn't been attacked.
Now we stood in the middle of Drearing's Deep; the imposing temple of dark stone and granite at our backs, and the shanty town ahead. An ancient gong stood exactly between the two, a macabre meeting point for all.
All was silent around us, the town's people — a bizarre mix of vitamin D deprived surfacers with haunted eyes — all having made abundantly clear the ancient instrument was not to be rung, lest 'terrible things happen'.
And that's why the three of us found ourselves crowded around it.
Torches, attached to the tips of tall carved stalagmites, were scattered throughout the cavern. They offered me a meagre thirty or so meters of grey and dreary visibility, beyond which was inky blackness. There were small pockets of grey light in the distance, where more torches were set up. Some in the town, most on the temple.
I was bent at the waist, inspecting the runes on the surface of the gong up close with squinted eyes, hands on my hips.
"It says 'ring this gong and creepy guys will come out for a ritualistic sacrifice'," I told Valen and Nathyrra with a single nod, doing my best the keep my voice level.
The tiefling followed my finger as I ran it along with the unintelligible language carved on the surface.
I looked over my shoulder with a grin.
He considered me with a raised eyebrow and bemused smirk on his lips.
Nathyrra rolled her eyes with a smile. "Is that just so?" She crossed her arms.
"Well, can you read it?" I stepped back, waving her towards the gong with a flourish.
She eyed the inscriptions only momentarily, a stubborn set to her brow, before shaking her head once.
I held up my hands, letting my grin drop away as I considered my next words carefully. "In all seriousness, though," I continued. "I can't read all of it. But I can make out the general gist." I pointed vaguely at the unintelligible glyphs. "It does mention a sacrifice. Lots of blood too." I shrugged. "I think we're dealing with a cult. One that worships the undead. And there are definitely vampires involved."
Valen pulled his lips down as he considered my words, nodding and accepting what I'd said at face value. It wasn't such a big stretch, not after what the misshapen rock gnome — who'd enthusiastically greeted us upon entering Drearing's Deep — had said of the town and temple.
Nathyrra, however, considered me with slightly narrowed eyes.
I realised suddenly that I was worrying my bottom lip, and let it go.
"It's in draconic," I lied. "I know a little." I offered a casual shrug. "Travelled with a kobold a while back."
"Draconic?" Valen pressed immediately, head perking up in alarm at what that meant.
"Yep," I popped my 'p', nodding enthusiastically and hoping Nathyrra was sated. "So we're probably also dealing with a dragon of some kind."
I saw Valen take a deep breath, considering my words and their implications.
I held my hands in front of me as if juggling some invisible balls. "Undead cult. Dragon." I paused for emphasis. "My bet is on us having to deal with an undead dragon; a dracolich."
They both turned to the looming temple in silence, letting my words sink in.
We're going to need to pull all of the stops if we planned on defeating Vix'thra. So, there's no way I'm letting them go in blind.
Even prepared, this was going to be a hell of a fight.
"And you have fought one of these undead dragon's before?" Nathyrra pressed, her voice sombre, jaw set.
I turned to her with a surprised frown. "Hells no!" I lowered my voice. "But I know a little about them."
Valen considered me, hand on his chin. He motioned for me to continue.
Good. They were at least considering it was a possibility.
"If I'm right, the Vampires — when killed — will transform into mist and escape back to their sleeping forms where they'll be weakened, but alive. We'll have to stake them with timber before they regenerate. Otherwise, we'll be dealing with them all over again." Their eyes silently followed my hand's movements as I spoke. "The dracolich will be difficult, to say the least. There'll be a phylactery; probably heavily protected." I explained. "We'll need to destroy that before even bothering with the dragon. Otherwise there's no saying where it's essence will pop up next."
Valen gave a single nod. "Hopefully, it will not come to that." He considered me, before adding; "But thank you, all the same. If we are indeed dealing with a dracolich, you may have just helped turn the fight."
I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips.
"So," I turned us back towards the gong. "Who's going to offer themselves up as tribute so we can get in?"
And so, sometime later, I found myself ringing the gong with an uncomfortable grimace.
As the sound rang throughout the cavern, the townspeople — who had been watching us from the edge of their shanty's — gaped at me in shocked horror.
Valen and Nathyrra had retreated, and I'd lost sight of them long ago.
God's, I hope this works.
I dropped the rock I'd used to sound the booming instrument by my feet, spreading my stance and waiting.
I didn't have to wait long.
A vampirically pale man, dressed in wizard's robes, emerged from the temple's tall doors. They immediately slammed closed behind him with a resounding boom.
He was flanked on both sides by two hulking men in half plates and purple robes, deep cowls pulled over their pale heads. One rested his hand atop a longsword, a necklace of small teeth around his throat, and the other bore a curved falchion, its massive bone hilt peeking out from the folds of his cloak.
The wizard was tall, with thin arms and a long pale face. His pitch black hair bore a deep widow's peak and his eyebrows were thin and perfectly plucked above sunken blood red eyes.
Yep; vampire.
He grasped a long bone staff in his hands — the femur of some unfortunate giant creature — the end of which glowed an ungodly hue of red. He smiled at me, exposing two perfectly pointed teeth. I watched him approach; my stance unwavering despite the fear that shook my core. I crossed my hands crossed atop my chest in an attempt to hide my tremors.
High Priest Sodalis.
The residents of the town all gathered behind me silently, a few risking whispers of surprise in little bursts.
'Probably tutting about the idiot human who just rung the gong they'd all warned her against touching' This Enserric hummed in my head.
The locals left a clear path for the vampire and his silent guardian's to approach the gong —
And with it, me.
"The gong has sounded," Sodalis called, stretching his hands out wide. His staff's light threw shadows across the sharp panes of his gaunt face. "A ceremony has been called for."
I looked over his shoulder to the temple's sealed doors, narrowing my eyes as I tried to see into the shadows around the entrance.
"Vix'thra turns his mighty gaze upon us," he said, eyes roaming over the gathered people. "Mighty is his will, and great is his hunger."
When my eyes roamed back to him, I realised with a start that he was watching me intently.
He seemed amused — eyes twinkling and lips turned up at the corners.
"Vix'thra, Sage Protector, our Safeguard against all peril," he continued. I tried not to shiver when he licked his bottom lip slowly, inhuman eyes unblinking. "To thee we offer one of our own."
I caught my bottom lip between my teeth and held it there, considering his words.
His gaze bore into me and I found I couldn't look away.
I didn't want to look away.
"Are there any here who wish to serve the will of Vix'thra?"
He was talking directly to me.
I could hear people all around me shuffling back. The bat's wings as they fluttering overhead, flying from pillar to pillar. His staff as it grazed the stone at his feet.
And then only silence.
I noticed that his eyes were the colour of rubies, flecked with a light scattering of gold.
I shivered.
"I offer myself," I said, sagging in relief as the words — my own, but not my own — escaped in a gentle whisper.
He considered me with open appraisal, and a lazy smile curved my lips in reply. After what felt like a lifetime, he nodded; satisfied.
I felt a flutter of butterflies in my stomach, and my breath caught.
"Vix'thra approves of his servant," he said.
I tried — and failed — to hide the smile that tugged at my lips.
When he broke his gaze it was to command the two towering men that had — at some point — approached me. I now stood shoulder-to-shoulder between them.
"Bring her," he commanded them.
Sodalis gave a curt nod and then, with one last ruby-red look, turned away. I reached out a hand as he turned.
But then the butterflies fell away into a pit in my stomach.
Suddenly myself again, I tried my best not to resist as the men each grasped my upper arms in their huge hands. Sodalis had begun his steady march back up the slight incline towards the temple's doors.
Silent, we followed close behind, my back ramrod straight as I did my best to keep up.
Their fingers dug into my upper arms, pinching my skin, even with my armour between us.
As we approached the temple, Sodalis looked over his shoulder lazily, fixing his horrible blood red eyes on me in a cold stare. A predatory smile curved his lips and I shivered at the promise in the look.
Slowly, he drew his tongue over his thin upper lip as his eyes roamed over me.
His eyes snapped sharply back to one of the men by my side. "You will strip this one and bring it straight to my chambers," he commanded in a clipped tone, ignoring my defiant stare.
The men nodded silently, pulling me along faster, one step for each of my two.
With even strides, the vampire approached the temple first.
He lifted his staff and waved his arm in a practised gesture, arcane words spitting from his lips. The doors were encompassed by the same ungodly red glow as his staff before they opened before us with a groan.
I searched the shadows desperately, digging my feet into the stone.
At my obvious resistance, Sodalis spoke. "Vix'thra grows inpatient," he warned, passing between two stone pillars. "We must—"
I didn't get a chance to hear whatever it was that they 'must do'.
Nathyrra pounced from the shadows of one of the dragon statues, invisible only moments before — a spell? — even though I'd known to look for her. Her knives reflected the red glow of the vampire's magic as she landed.
Sodalis raised his staff — to parry her blow or cast a spell, I don't know — but it did him no good. She found her way under his defences, cutting along his robe-clothed stomach with a feral snarl.
When he ducked with a ragged gasp of air, dropping his staff in shock and grasping at his bleeding abdomen, she pushed his head forward with the full force of her landing. She forced him face-first into the floor, before stabbing him artfully through the back of his neck. His blood splashed against the stone.
All of this in the blink of an eye.
One of my guard's grips loosened as he fumbled for his weapon.
Grasping my opportunity, I let my legs relax and dropped — sudden dead weight — straight out of their grip and onto the floor.
I heard one of them gasp in surprise.
I rolled aside just as Valen charged them with a roar.
He hit the one with the falchion in the lower back, carrying the swing through, before flicking the chain around and hitting him again square in his surprised face with a wet thud.
The man toppled sideways, immediately dead.
I stepped away from the melee, drawing Enserric.
The other man considered the tiefling and drow before him with trepidation, before — mind made up — charging at Nathyrra.
"Blood is service!" he screamed desperately, weapon raised.
I could hear the fear in his voice.
Nathyrra moved out of range with a careful sidestep just as she finished muttering an arcane phrase — a collection of words I knew almost by heart. A dizzying array of lights danced from her fingertips before each magic missile pelted into her assailant's chest.
His armour bent under the barrage and he staggered back with each hit.
Straight into Enserric.
I pushed my sword through the panels of his half-plate, groaning with the effort of it, as the man gave a surprised gasp. He dropped to his knees — bringing me with him. I let Enserric pull from my grip as the man collapsed slowly onto his face. He didn't move.
My longsword stood proudly upright in the middle of the fresh corpse's back.
We considered each other and the now open door, between gasping breaths. I gave Valen, who was frowning at me with a tilted head, a thankful nod.
Then: "He tastes terrible!" Enserric admonished to u, between one breath and the next.
My breath finally caught, I placed my foot on the body, pulling my sword — with a hard yank — from his back. With a distasteful grimace, I wiped it on the already-stained purple cloak.
"Human?" I asked Enserric, considering the pale body.
A beat, as the sword considered my question. "Human, yes." He paused, humming as if he wasn't sure. "Terrible, all the same."
Nathyrra was appraising the open doorway when Valen kicked Sodalis onto his back. The vampire's eyes were open and unseeing. Blood was smeared across his white skin from the gaping hole in his neck and throat.
Valen considered Sodalis, before looking up at me with a questioning tilt to his head, his boot still holding the body in place for observation.
"So," he hummed down at the body. "A vampire, you think?" He pressed.
Before I could reply, a white mist began to escape from the corpse's gaping mouth. It started forming above us. More was quick to join the steady stream; from his unblinking eyes, his nose, his ears.
Valen stepped back quickly, removing his boot from the body and gripping his flail in a tight two-handed grip. Nathyrra re-drew her blade.
With an air of indifference, I resheathed Enserric.
Soon the form took on the rough shape of a man, bereft any distinguishing features, completely disconnected to the body below.
It hovered over us for a beat, as if considering the scene, before gliding towards the open doors, right past Nathyrra. It disappeared into the temple beyond, without a sound.
"Yep," I eventually said to the silence with a shit-eating smirk. "I think he's a vampire."
Enserric snorted.
At least the sword could appreciate good timing.
I considered the vampire's body, biting my lip in concern.
We had killed him earlier than you could in the game; going for the element of surprise rather than the shit show that was to be the battle in his chambers.
Hopefully, this doesn't bite us in the arse.
I knelt down, rifling through his belongings in search of the lower crypt's key, that I knew to be on his body.
I felt a sliver of Ensserric's mirth spill through. Then, he said to me matter-of-factly: 'Well, if anyone's going to bite you, it'll be a vampire.'
This time I snorted.
THEN
Once ready, we spoke to Ayala one final time, before leaving Drogan's school.
Outside, we met some resistance; a scattering of kobolds waiting in ambush right outside the doors. Xanos had dealt with the majority of them, exhausting almost his entire repertoire of spells all too soon.
Then, after clearing the barn of two kobolds who had barricaded themselves within, we made straight for Farghan's single storey treehouse.
I'd approached cocksure and confident, knowing that I'd recently sold him all three of the items that Ayala required to stave off the poison that now ran through Drogan's veins.
We'd heard the commotion from outside, Dorna charging fearlessly in, with her axe raised and ready.
We'd been greeted to the sight of his wolf — the white fur on her scruff now stained red — hunched over a dying kobold. It lay on its back, throat torn open, gurgling as it died.
Without any fanfare, Farghan put an end to the creature's helpless whimpers with a dagger to the forehead.
His wolf had bared her teeth at us in warning, before realising we weren't an enemy.
When Farghan had demanded to know what was going on I'd run him through the events of the day.
At his apologetic reply, we'd discovered that he only had two of the three items.
"Talk about bad timing," I groaned, taking a deep breath.
It had been no accident that I'd sold him a large selection of items specifically for healing all manner of poisons. I'd started stocking his supplies when the kobolds had started getting braver. The item he was now lacking — which I suddenly remembered he hadn't had in the game — I had definitely sold him.
Everything was playing out exactly as the game had.
Could I change things? Or were they already predetermined?
More importantly, did I want to change things?
He continued with a shrug. "What can I tell you," he huffed. "I don't have any helmthorn berries. I always sell them to the Cauldron. Why do you think their pie is so good?"
I heard Xanos lick his lips in an exaggerated manner, slapping a hand to his stomach.
"But I've been selling them to you!" I hissed to my mentor, putting the arrow I'd drawn before entering his home back in its quiver. "How much of a profit are you making on those damn things?"
Dorna dropped a jar she'd been looking closer at onto the table, scrambling quickly to right it and its spilt contents.
Fardhan flashed Dorna a warning glance, one I knew too well from our months of working together. "Not my fault you didn't know their worth," he shrugged again, wiping his dagger of the kobold's blood on his breeches.
Xanos snorted.
I rolled my eyes, looking around his home for where I knew he kept his less savoury items. "Well give me the charcoal and tressym tongue then," I insisted.
He shook his head at my demanding tone, turning to rifle through some built-in cupboards.
As he searched for the charcoal, I reached for the sealed jars on one of the overhanging timber shelves.
Pushing those I didn't need aside, it didn't take long to spot the tongue.
It was stored in a foggy glass jar, bloated and floating in the grey water.
I grabbed it, stretching to my full height on my toes, before passing it carefully to Xanos. He gave it a tentative tap with a long-nailed finger. Distaste was clear on his harsh features as he watched the tongue bob in the water. With a shrug, he placed it delicately in his satchel.
"Once you find that charcoal, we can clean up the rest of the town and get those damn berries." Shaking my head, I added: "Are you sure? You really didn't keep any?" I raised my voice an octave in disbelief.
He turned away from the cupboard with a wrapped bundle in his hands, shaking his head.
"I'm not going out there with you," he jerked his chin towards his door, passing me the wrapped charcoal.
I frowned immediately. "What do you mean?"
He motioned all around us to his home. "I've got a house to protect, with things in it — things that you need," he looked pointedly at the charcoal as I snatched it off of him. "Those kobolds aren't going to find an empty home to loot."
Bethsheva gave another growl.
I pointed at the wolf in disbelief. "She'll be fine on her own!"
He shook his head with a crooked smile. "You'll be fine," he assured me. "They're just kobolds." He dismissed me with a wave of his hand.
I blinked at the fresh corpse of the kobold, blood leaching into the fur pelt it had died on.
"Just kobolds," I repeated in disbelief.
"What?" Dorna cut in, leaving the jars she'd been so intrigued by only moments before. "We're suddenly not enough for you?"
I forced a smile at the dwarf's raised eyebrow, dismissing her comment with a nervous chuckle.
Looking back at Xanos — with his deep frown and tilted head — I forced myself to take an even breath through my nose, pushing past my irritation.
I weighed the charcoal in my hands, before passing it to Xanos for safe keeping.
Sighing, I looked back at Farghan. "Well," I started. "Thanks for the charcoal," I tried my best to keep the bitterness out of my tone."Try not to die."
'They're just kobolds' would look really bad on a tombstone…
And so we made the rest of the dangerous trek through town, my ranged weapons almost completely useless with the sleet and fog all around us.
Twice kobolds charged out of the white nothingness ahead, and twice I almost jumped out of my skin. The first time my arrow went wide, and Dorna charged in front of me as I scrambled for another. She finished the kobold off with a single swing of her axe. The second time I held my throwing knives in hand and — with the assistance of a ray of frost cast from Xanos' hands — killing it messily with a stab to the gut and shoulder.
When we entered the Cauldron we were faced with utter chaos.
But this — this I remembered clearly from the game.
We can talk our way out of this one.
I'd strutted through the crowd of jeering town's men, all red-faced and tense. Some had raised firsts, others hissed taunts, all directed at the kitchen and the kobolds barricaded within.
Lodar was quick to inform the three of us on the hostage situation, a woman's shaken pleas carrying to us from within.
With a muttered "I hope this works", I'd convinced the kobolds to trade me for the cook, Nora.
I'd climbed over the scattered chairs and table to get into the kitchen at their scared yips of agreement. Nora had scurried out without a word of thanks, leaving me alone with the scared and confused kobolds.
I sized them up; four against just me; Xanos and Dorna waiting just outside the barricade.
I tried my hand at diplomacy, convincing the frightened creatures that they needed to be smart and leave. I carefully sprinkled in the warning that I was a lot stronger than the cook had been.
With frightened yips and the hushed grumbling of the tavern's regulars, the four kobolds had fled without any bloodshed.
I'd taken the berries from the larder as payment, and had left the men to clean up the tavern; none wishing to help protect the town against the attack that continued outside.
After some consideration, we spent another hour going house to house, ensuring that the last of the kobolds had been either killed or run out.
Once satisfied, we hurried back to the school with our ingredients in tow.
Under her tutelage, I helped her poach the tongue and berries in water. We drained the liquid and crushed the charcoal into a dark paste. Once satisfied with the consistency, she smeared it on Drogan's wound, binding it in place with a sharp nod of thanks in my direction.
We spent the remainder of the morning at the school, preparing for our trip outside of Hilltop with varying degrees of trepidation.
Xanos insisted we didn't need camping gear, Bloomberg being an appropriate waypoint in our quest for the four artefacts. I had venomously insisted that it would be stupid not to plan for the worst.
Bloomberg is gone, I reminded myself cooly.
I tried not to think of the families I'd seen milling about last time I'd been through the smaller town.
They wouldn't have stood a chance...
Ignoring the voice in the back of my mind that told me to just go back to bed and let somebody else deal with it, we left Drogan's school — and quickly thereafter Hilltop — in relative silence. Our bags filled to the brim with everything we would need, we wore them high on our backs, ready to face the challenges outside the walls.
I found myself smiling, despite it all, when Emma's hawk called out to me with a shrill screech from the town's walls.
It watched us as we passed unhindered out of the gates.
Upon exiting the town, we were greeted to the sight of three red caravans, slanted timber roofs topped with a light scattering of snow.
Some of the caravan's halfling's paused in their tasks to stare at the massive bird of prey as it flew from the town's walls to the highest point of one caravan. Confident that the large bird meant them no harm, they returned to the task of clearing the immediate area of the kobolds' bodies.
Katriana, the caravan's director, greeted us with a sombre expression on her sun-lined face, telling us of the attack they'd just witnessed.
And just like that, the first leg of our adventure began. I slipped into the script I'd been preparing for, for the last couple of months.
All that time spent going over the events that were to happen. Plotting out how I could twist everything to my advantage. How I could make things better. Make things easier.
But I only made things worse.
NOTEBOOK EXTRACT
The following few pages are rushed and short, a journal of Jane's travels through Hilltop's Foothills, The Nether Mountains and The High Forest. A few rough maps break up the text.
The first map is of the Hilltop Foothills, icons marking people and places of note.
Wounded Bear
Managed to remove an arrow from its hide and apply Woundbind Poultice. Doing this in the game was beneficial, but I can't remember why…
Ferran Valiantheart
Camped with for the night. He's after the Shadow Hart's horns to cure his 'ailing wife'. Noticed its tracks, didn't have time to follow it. He told me about the kobolds that retreated into the crypts.
The Hurst Farm
Residence: Nathan Hurst (farmer, duergar), Becka (daughter, half human/half duergar - kidnapped)
Rumgut the Hill Giant kidnapped Becka to be his wife (!?), offered reward for saving her (decent enough Amulet of Natural Armour)
Rumgut's Cave
Saved Becka by challenging Rumgut (appropriate name) to a drinking contest (cheated)
Elven Crypts
Mummified hand? (See next page, for details)
To the Nether Mountains
Kobold's cave and ice dragon are here. Deekin introduced himself to me (has the tower statue - will give it to me if I free him from servitute).
To Bumberg
Destroyed - Deekin's set up shop here
To the High Forest
Ferran mentioned heavy gnoll activity
The second map is of the Elven Crypts, icons marking places of note. There's a lot of scribbled out areas.
Namaldor's Tomb
The spirit offered to reward us if we dealt with the level's spider infestation. Not on your (un)life, buddy!
Spider-Infested Tomb
Avoided.
Eastern Passage
Locked.
Western Passage
Elven Warrior's Spirit - after his stolen sword. Can't find it.
Southern Passage
Secret door near the entrance.
Secret Room
Found a lever, full-face mask, and longbow (better than my current one). Left the lever (can't remember purpose - too risky)
Kobold Ambush
Avoided.
Kobold Hideout
Talked them into letting me in. Convinced Urko (leader) into giving me the mummified hand (yuck!) Fought faction of kobolds lead by Yazka, with allied faction. Left with the hand.
The rest of the entry outlining this leg of Jane's journey is even more rushed. Almost entirely unintelligible to probably anyone but her. It's so hard to read that one section looks like she's written that 'a stampede of ox killed The Freezer'.
The following is all that can be read:
…the mask! Scribbles …Tymofarrar promised to free Deekin if I kill J'Nah… Scribbles …some powder to weaken her… Scribbles …saved some of Bloomberg's residence from gnolls. Finally found Glendir! Scribbles …couldn't bring myself to kill the bears. Scribbles …Gishnak agreed to help in the fight against J'Nah!
More frustrated scribbling and a messy map with a collection of question marks. For some reason, she's drawn a water droplet, a flame, a lumpy circle, and a swirl of air. Five places on the map are circled aggressively.
After this drawing, her writing — whilst never neat — has become legible again.
Fuck me but J'Nah was tough! Xanos, Dorna and I used our focus rings to get out of there and recuperate at the school for a few hours. Boy was she surprised when we zapped back in; stocked up and ready.
The next section of the journal, outlining freeing Deekin and claiming the statue tower, is a lot neater.