Gods, Guides, and Worlds Between

Tim's Log: Entry 14322-1b

Allow me to revise some of my previous assumptions: 1)this is not a Hell, but some demiplane proximal to the Shadowfell; 2)I am becoming more convinced that some form of temporal anomaly has taken back in time as well as planar shift; 3)This is in fact not a prison for political prisoners but absolutely morons. These retrograde simpletons revere their bards above their scholars!! That alone proves that the inhabitants of this plane are unforgivably stupid.

Allow me to explain; I discovered that the crazy cat lady that I attacked was a bard of great importance to the town members and, as will later be discussed in this entry, she is in fact undeniably mentally defective. She seems to believe that her position in her community should have some bearing on how she is received. I run into this problem with nobility, they seem to think that because a large group of simpletons believe them to be important that they should be treated specially. I will treat them with all the deference due to the Lords of the Simpleminded, which is to say none. I kneel before no one and expect no deference in return: merit is the only measure of worth I evaluate; but I digress again.

The crazy cat lady(henceforth referred to as “Bard”) gave my companions and I the choice of doing her bidding or execution (like I haven’t heard that threat 7,432 times before….make that 7,433 now). So in the best interest of my new companions I apologized for my earlier hasty actions and agreed to lend my services to her cause; my companions did likewise.

My new traveling companions’ friends had been revived in our absence, much to their….delight would be to strong a word. I get the sense that fate conspired to bring these people together much as I had joined them. The two elves actually introduced themselves as Bladepwn(I’ll have to check my records when I get back to trace that system of naming) and Rydoh. Rydoh(henceforth referred to as “Meatloaf”) is apparently from some elven tribe that are the fey analog of the human mountain barbarians; as I was unaware they made 7ft tall, 350lbs elves. Although given his lack of tact and grace elves are renowned for he may simply have been spawned in a pool of fetid bong-water. They remainder of the group seemed to believe they had a missing member, but given the fall I am unsure of exactly what is going on.

The Bard came back into the cell demanding the shadow cat back for some kind of lesson she needed to teach the children of this town and, as suits this backwards community, followed with half the town bearing weapons. I informed her that I do not respond to threats from anyone, for any reason, and that if she wanted it back there would be a civil dialogue; negotiations concluded on the condition that I could acquire another specimen (By the Nine Hells I HATE Stupid People!).

We were finally taken to the library where I hoped I could actually accomplish something. I was dismayed to find the librarian to be an eladrin(henceforth referred to as “Dorkstick”), and completely disgusted to see that he too had the arboreal anal inclusions that so plague that species. He was slightly less useful than a sheaf of parchment in a swordfight; unfortunately we were chased out of town by the encroaching Darkness(note: edify these people on the importance of onomastics) and fled in search of some magical artifact hopefully left behind by whoever made this place. Apparently Dorkstick has known the basic location of said artifact for some time, but is to big of a ponce to get it himself.

After some length of time we came upon an area plagued by cries for help; the dragonborn informed us of the presence of several individuals out in the darkness. Faster than you could say,”It’s a trap!” behold: it was a trap. The Bard and Dorkstick apparently believed that the light would solve the problem and that we should help, it didn’t. Two succubi and a pair of what I shall dub “darkhounds” appeared; the darkhounds snuffed all light within a radius. After a time, we became increasingly frustrated with the situation and I managed to get a lucky blast of at one of the hounds. With one hound gone the entire group faded out of existence, and I remain unsure of whether we really fought anything at all.

As we approached the are where Dorkstick claimed the entrance to some form of storage are was a massive hoard of darkhounds appeared behind us and chased us into the cave entrance. We quickly found a windlass and released a portcullis, blocking the darkhounds outside. The air got increasingly cool as we walked forward and when I felt a rhythmic chill in the air I knew there was a white dragon nearby. I hate chromatic dragons, really really hate them. Having a black dragon eat you will tend to bias one against these sorts. Not especially fond of metallic dragons, or anything that could eat me, but you can reason with all metallic dragons. Chromatics…..uggh the only one you have any hope against is to talk a bronze dragon to death; a difficult feat but one I have proven is not impossible. I digress: the Bard immediately set about proving that she and the entire residency of the plane is terminally lacking basic survival instincts or the brainpower the gods gave a kobold. She ran forward and began desperately trying to free the dragon on the basis that nothing white can be bad (did I mention I HATE STUPID).

The dragon demanded a meal in return for not eating us and allowing us to pass, which considering it is an elder wyrm locked in this cave since it’s formation is unusually polite for something as voracious as a white dragon(I think being alone so long may have broken its mind, something I shall test for upon our attempted escape). The Bard immediately ran back to the entrance and allowed the darkhound horde in. I was, for a time, fearful that few enough of these beast would be corporeal to do anything more than irritate the dragon. Meatloaf insisted on being incredibly rude to the dragon, further supporting the bong-water theory, but in the end some rudimentary spark of self-preservation made him shut-up and go through the cave entrance as the dragon allowed.

Upon entering the cave I noticed to separate paths, both pulsing with magical auras. The Bard ran off seeking some lever or another to free the dragon; I have given up trying to contain that one and resign to let her kill herself. The first turn was a grove studded with odd trees that gave off an unusual aura with a single chest at the end. Dorkstick had apparently shapeshifted and gone ahead of us; he also demonstrated his inability to accomplish anything by still having the chest locked when we arrived. I immediately blasted the lock and retrieved a single silver coin from the chest. I would have liked to study this coin further but the grove of trees began disgorging legion imps as soon as I took the coin. Using my grasp of the blatantly obvious(which doesn’t sound impressive, but you have yet to truly grasp the density of my compatriots) I discerned that the flow of demons could not be infinite and we should simply wholesale annihilate the lot of them. The flow only increased over time until eventually I was proven correct and the trees withered and died, and the remaining imps discorporated.

We proceeded back to the tunnel and took the other branch and came to a room with rather a large assortment of equipment both magical and mundane. I was dismayed to see that the Bard had not managed to trigger any traps in the room, and she is still set on releasing the dragon. We made camp in the storage chamber and are currently resting, I shall have to sneak out after they all fall asleep to have a chat with the dragon. I think I may be able to get us out of this, but I must keep the Bard as far away as is possible. The dragon could be a valuable resource in my plans; I only pray I manage to get out of here before the crazy wench kills us all.

I wonder if I can research a permanent hold person enchantment…


And price for the most enterprising gnome goes to… Tim! 200 xp prize _

Tim's Log: Entry 14322-1b

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