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<blockquote data-quote="Morrow" data-source="post: 5039254" data-attributes="member: 301"><p><strong>City of Broken Idols 2 (Garnham)</strong></p><p></p><p>From the journal of K. Garnham Vanderboren-Black, Seeker as translated from the Valossan.</p><p></p><p> I have just taken the time to review the journal entries made by my now deceased scribe.</p><p></p><p> What a mess.</p><p></p><p> Ten pages going into excruciating detail about the state of his bowels. Twelve pages devoted to his retirement plans. Thirty-eight pages of tawdry sexual fantasies that pretty much boil down to- Maggie, a jar of orange marmalade and a running start.</p><p></p><p> I trust that this explains the absense of the previous 60 pages of this journal.</p><p></p><p> We are currently on the second day of our assault on the skin-walker lair.</p><p></p><p> We've had mixed luck so far.</p><p></p><p> On our first day Maggie turned into a mist and reconned the lair. She was able to teleport us into the skinwalker chief's room. Unfortunately the chief was able to see the invisible, misty cleric and was able to get some backup into his room before she could teleport us there.</p><p></p><p> Unfortunately one of their spellcasters mindscrewed Elyosha. Unable to cast spells she turned into a rhino. We beat the skinwalkers, but their spellcaster's killed Elyosha and her dinosaur. </p><p></p><p> We waited the day out and Maggie brought Elyosha back from the dead and then restored her to her senses.</p><p></p><p> We will be continuing into the lair shortly.</p><p></p><p> I want to be finished with this place quickly, but that isn't likely to happen. I have to force myself to focus on the task</p><p>at hand, my thoughts constantly turning to Vanthus and Lavinia. </p><p></p><p> Dexter is working on his own journal. He found a partially empty journal among some of the discarded things in the chief's room. There's something about the book that rubs me the wrong way. I mentioned it to Dex and he tore out the used pages and handed them to me.</p><p> </p><p> The pages don't make any real sense. The language of the piece changes with every word in no discernable pattern. Magical </p><p>translation reveals what each word means, but it's still nonsense. Here's a sample:</p><p></p><p> "Vision entry block third insurance rendering mine domain. Format trap crisis sock. Nonmanneristic pimpernel! Verdant saxaphonist</p><p>doll check menstruation. Forensic statement shipment; elaborated, cardigan vulgarity."</p><p></p><p> As I sit here writing this I suddenly know what disturbs me most about the book-the ideogram on the cover. I'm looking at the book now as Dexter writes furiously in his new war journal. I've seen that image before. In a dream.</p><p> I don't remember much about it. There was a gathering of people. The youngest were toddlers; the oldest maybe 50. All were human</p><p>or had human blood. I recognized Dexter, a half-elven shop assistant from Sasserine and a member of the Seekers currently part of the </p><p>Golismorga taskforce. I remember a score of other faces, but have no idea who they are or what connection they might have with one</p><p>another, myself or my brother.</p><p></p><p> There was a great sense of purpose to what we were doing, but my waking mind can't quiet grasp what it was. </p><p></p><p> I dimly recall that music played in the background.</p><p></p><p> And a smell like nutmeg on saltwater.</p><p></p><p> I saw blood being spilt and was dimly aware that it was my own although I may not have been me at the time. The blood spread out in a</p><p>circle on white sands. The pattern it fell in matches the one on Dexter's new book.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Morrow, post: 5039254, member: 301"] [b]City of Broken Idols 2 (Garnham)[/b] From the journal of K. Garnham Vanderboren-Black, Seeker as translated from the Valossan. I have just taken the time to review the journal entries made by my now deceased scribe. What a mess. Ten pages going into excruciating detail about the state of his bowels. Twelve pages devoted to his retirement plans. Thirty-eight pages of tawdry sexual fantasies that pretty much boil down to- Maggie, a jar of orange marmalade and a running start. I trust that this explains the absense of the previous 60 pages of this journal. We are currently on the second day of our assault on the skin-walker lair. We've had mixed luck so far. On our first day Maggie turned into a mist and reconned the lair. She was able to teleport us into the skinwalker chief's room. Unfortunately the chief was able to see the invisible, misty cleric and was able to get some backup into his room before she could teleport us there. Unfortunately one of their spellcasters mindscrewed Elyosha. Unable to cast spells she turned into a rhino. We beat the skinwalkers, but their spellcaster's killed Elyosha and her dinosaur. We waited the day out and Maggie brought Elyosha back from the dead and then restored her to her senses. We will be continuing into the lair shortly. I want to be finished with this place quickly, but that isn't likely to happen. I have to force myself to focus on the task at hand, my thoughts constantly turning to Vanthus and Lavinia. Dexter is working on his own journal. He found a partially empty journal among some of the discarded things in the chief's room. There's something about the book that rubs me the wrong way. I mentioned it to Dex and he tore out the used pages and handed them to me. The pages don't make any real sense. The language of the piece changes with every word in no discernable pattern. Magical translation reveals what each word means, but it's still nonsense. Here's a sample: "Vision entry block third insurance rendering mine domain. Format trap crisis sock. Nonmanneristic pimpernel! Verdant saxaphonist doll check menstruation. Forensic statement shipment; elaborated, cardigan vulgarity." As I sit here writing this I suddenly know what disturbs me most about the book-the ideogram on the cover. I'm looking at the book now as Dexter writes furiously in his new war journal. I've seen that image before. In a dream. I don't remember much about it. There was a gathering of people. The youngest were toddlers; the oldest maybe 50. All were human or had human blood. I recognized Dexter, a half-elven shop assistant from Sasserine and a member of the Seekers currently part of the Golismorga taskforce. I remember a score of other faces, but have no idea who they are or what connection they might have with one another, myself or my brother. There was a great sense of purpose to what we were doing, but my waking mind can't quiet grasp what it was. I dimly recall that music played in the background. And a smell like nutmeg on saltwater. I saw blood being spilt and was dimly aware that it was my own although I may not have been me at the time. The blood spread out in a circle on white sands. The pattern it fell in matches the one on Dexter's new book. [/QUOTE]
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