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The Collected Journals of Artemis Heuw Cannith
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<blockquote data-quote="Devo" data-source="post: 2886615" data-attributes="member: 32183"><p><strong>The Collected Journals of Artemis Heuw, Excerpt 6</strong></p><p></p><p>"... single piece of uninterrupted teak wood, with no metal of any sort: no cap on it's foot and no design on it's head. I bought the cane for it's simplistic beauty, thinking, at the time, that it's singular composition would act as a blank slate -- like a clean sheet of paper -- for holding my enchantments. No such luck. Time and again I have drawn the magical matrices that would hold a spell, and time and again the infusion failed to take hold. I know it's not me -- even my modesty cannot deny that I excel at this profession -- so it must be this equipment. I have composed a list of properties necessary for a cane of masterful craft, which must have the following elements...."</p><p> </p><p>. -- An excerpt from the Craft Journal of Artemis Heuw, Volume 3</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"And so ends another fruitless day in my laboratory. I desperately need to restock my supplies if I want to start crafting again -- I simply cannot work in such a deplorable state of lack [ref: CJ-V3-87]. What I need, though, are funds. Maybe someone in the DC will have some employment for us? We'll see tomorrow</p><p>...</p><p>My writing will be brief tonight, as I have been mercilessly pummeled, poked, prodded, and stabbed today. Again, perhaps I should say. Ah, well. "Brevity is a sign of genius," or something like that. I suppose it is no coincidence that I am a man of few words.</p><p> </p><p>The DC met for breakfast in our usual spot: the Broken Anvil [ref: PJ-V1-74]. Ah, the painful joys of greasy potatoes and aged "pork". We were trying to decide how to make some money -- legally, of course -- when the answer fell right into our laps. Little Robin Hazeltine, the halfling we were very nearly acquainted with [ref: PJ-V2-112] came to us with another job offer. Well, the same job offer, actually.</p><p> </p><p>He had heard that the Breastplate of Drakken Khas [ref: PJ-V2-99] was stolen, and he claimed to have some information as to it's where-abouts. Since he had asked us to steal it for him the first time we met, I was instantly suspicious that whoever he did get to steal it had double-crossed him. Those suspicions were wiped clean away, though, as soon as he mentioned that he would pay us each 1500 pieces of gold to retrieve it, then -- after he had a chance to look it over -- allow us to return it to Boromar [ref: PJ-V2-107], it's rightful owner. Since Boromar had a standing reward of 10,000 gold for the armor's return, that meant the tidy personal profit of 3500 gold for what sounded like a simple job!</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the DC wasn't as interested in the prospect, however. Maybe they have some form of income that I am not aware of. They were unseemingly paranoid about RH's motives, and didn't want to trust him at all. IR was still of the opinion that RH would use the map on the breastplate to "loot the sacred graves of the dead." That sounded like an excellent idea to me -- what better way to recover the treasures of the past -- for knowledge's sake -- but to pull them from their place of respectful rest? There's a small bit of coin to be made in the endeavor, as well. IR's argument has always confused me, but she sticks to it and insists that she will not allow RH to do such a thing.</p><p> </p><p>I was most of the way through a rather clever and well thought out conversational stratagem -- an argument that would end with the DC taking RH's job -- when we were very rudely interrupted. The timing was rather inconvenient, as I could see that nearly everyone was seeing things my way. All conversation stopped, though, when we were accosted at our table.</p><p> </p><p>Now the Broken Anvil is not a large place, as these things are measured, but it can hold a fair number of people. Most of the clientele of the Broken Anvil are regulars: why would anyone go down to Lower Dura unless they absolutely had to? Being a regular, myself, I was, of course, on friendly terms with nearly all of it's patrons. Those few I do not know by name I certainly know by appearance. These strangers stood out like shifters at a Jorasco family reunion.</p><p> </p><p>Naturally, my keen senses picked them out as newcomers the moment they came into the Broken Anvil. I had been watching them for some time, but, being caught up in my thesis as I was, lost track of them from time to time. CA and GR had been watching them, too, and after talking to the city watch about the days events, we compared notes. Thus, the complete narrative I am allowed to write here. I'm jumping ahead in the story, though.</p><p> </p><p>The three strangers -- it might have been four or five; maybe even six -- had been circulating amongst the tables, looking over the other patrons and occasionally asking them questions. One barbaric looking fellow -- who undoubtedly had some ogre blood in him -- had been rather aggressively questioning... the guy with the red hair and the missing fingers... I don't remember his name. Regardless, learning nothing from him, he was making his way towards our table when another figure walked through the front door, scanned the crowd, looked to our table, and ordered his compatriots to "get us". </p><p> </p><p>The ogre took two strides towards us, plucked our table out from between us, and, throwing said table behind him, bellowed, "Give us the map!" Our poor server -- who has never told me her name -- squealed and ran. Actually, that might have been RH's squeal. I'm not sure what happened to RH after that point. He was there one moment, then gone as soon as things looked dangerous.</p><p> </p><p>And dangerous they were! Naturally, we tried genteel persuasion to convince these folks that we did not know what they were talking about, but they weren't here for conversation. They were here for a map. Before I could take control of the situation, they proved just what they were willing to do to get that map, too.</p><p> </p><p>The ogre-man pulled a pair of swords, though, perhaps, "cleavers" would be a more apt description. GR is a fine fellow, and slightly more skilled than I in physical combat, so I infused his jerkin with an enchantment of endurance [ref: CJ-V3-21] and wished him luck. I backed away. </p><p> </p><p>At the same time, though, one of the ogre's accomplices made his presence known by stepping out of the shadows behind us and throwing a pair of knives into CA's back. He looked sorely hurt by that, and, drawing his double-scimitar, CA charged the man. IR, meanwhile, had engaged the third of our enemies, a priest or warrior of the Silver Flame decked from helmeted head to booted foot in heavy, metal armor. I leant my considerable talent to her aid, infusing the man's armor with an enchantment that would quickly heat his armor [ref: CJ-V3-12] and, hopefully, fuse it into one piece. XL, meanwhile, stepped over to help CA with his foe, and their combined prowess dropped him quickly. The fool had allowed himself to be surrounded, then tried to run.</p><p> </p><p>In the spot where our table used to be, GR and the man-ogre were engaged in fierce combat. CA joined in the fight, but got sliced open pretty badly for his troubles. He fell, bleeding. </p><p> </p><p>Muscle and steel are all well and good in a fight, but I know that there are far more dangerous weapons one can bring to bear. Across the room, a sorceress had involved herself in the fight, obviously part of the attacking group. My trained eye immediately made note of her mystical acumen, and I knew that I had to deal with her before she "dealt" with us. I sidled around the edge of the room, avoiding the grunting, sweating, and bleeding strains of the physical combats taking place around me. </p><p> </p><p>XL was shrinking away from the fights going on in the center of the room, and I was about to reproach him for this when the distraction almost brought me in range of the armored warrior's sword. I jumped back and went around him, focusing on my target, not my friends. It's a good thing I did, too, because the sorceress had just pulled a wand, and with a word, unleashed a lightning bolt at IR!</p><p> </p><p>All of the other patrons had cleared out by this point, so we had a little more room to fight. One of IR's summoned creatures fought the armored knight in the middle of the room, the knight's armor glowing a hot, cherry red. IR herself had just gone over to heal GR, who jumped back into his fight swinging. With this new insult, though, IR turned her attention on the sorceress. You would think that an Aerenal elf steeped in the ways of magic would have recognized the threat right off. Fortunately for the DC, I was there.</p><p> </p><p>IR needn't have worried about the woman, though. XL and I were there to deal with her. Between the two of us, we were able to keep her mostly under control, then, with one good thwack from my favorite cane, she crumpled to the ground.</p><p> </p><p>Some time during this, GR -- with the occasional and opportunistic help from the rest of us -- had taken out the barbarian. He staggered, bleeding profusely, and tried to turn his attention to the knight. On the way, though, he used a wand of healing on the comatose CA. That delay may have cost us our success. The leader of our opponents came back in the front door -- perhaps to see whether his friends had the upper hand yet. As that was not the case, he called for a retreat. The giant-man stood again, at that point, healed by some half-ogre trickery, perhaps. Under cover of his long arms and long blades -- he had quite a reach with those weapons! -- those enemies that could withdrew from the combat, running like cowards through the front door. They left a parting gift, though, in the form of a monstrous, summoned scorpion, easily as large as the table we had just had breakfast at. Another combat was upon us!</p><p> </p><p>This one did not last long, though. Between us, we were easily up to the task of sending that giant vermin back to whatever place it had been summoned from. IR had even managed to heal CA into wakefulness, who then tried to charge into the combat. He needen't have bothered, though. Just as he arrived, the creature collapsed, then faded away in the manner of summoned creatures. </p><p> </p><p>We quickly checked outside, but could find no sign of our enemies. They had escaped. We had downed two of them, though, and when the city watch came we were more than happy to tell our side of the story. Many of the bar patrons spoke up in our defense, even though I did not know any of them personally. A couple of them even inquired as to our health. That certainly was polite of them. </p><p> </p><p>Whether we were okay is neither here nor there, however, for we had been attacked in public for a reason that none of us could understand. To be more precise, my companions were stumped -- I knew exactly what was going on, even if I didn't know why. Whereas the rest of the DC thought the map in question was the Breastplate of Drakken Khas [ref: PJ-V2-99], I had more logically rationalized that the map that our attackers was seeking was none other than the map we had pulled from the Cannith vault [ref: PJ-V1-119], buried below Sharn these many years. I mentioned as much to the DC, who had as one forgotten all about said map. None of us knew anything about the it, though, so we decided that it would need more research.</p><p> </p><p>Always one to make the best of a bad situation, I must say that I kept my head about me, even as wounded as I was. The city watch had been given the whole story, so I can but imagine their surprise when they made a list of the weapons and items of our downed foes, and do not find a wand of lightning. I took the wand from under their very noses, and they didn't suspect a thing! </p><p> </p><p>Now I just have to figure out how to use it. If I had the money, I could properly identify it. As it is, I shall simply carry it with me, and call upon it's magics when next the need arises. I am sure that my perfect memory and my very extensive training in the field of artifice will prove up to the challenge of activating so powerful an item blindly. </p><p> </p><p>And even if, by some small chance, I fail, what is the worst that can happen?</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>It's been a full day since the attack at the Broken Anvil, and I am finally feeling up to moving about again.</p><p> </p><p>After receiving word from professor Boramar ir'Dayne at MU [ref: PJ-V2-107], the DC gathered at his office to discuss the missing breastplate. The night that it was stolen [ref: PJ-V2-121] we had offered BD our services in helping him recover it. He was rather out of sorts that night, but has decided now to take us up on our offer.</p><p> </p><p>The little halfling droned on and on about the very complicated history of the armor, it's relationship with two other powerful artifacts -- one a sword and one a shield -- and how the set as a whole was a map of some sort. I have to admit that I wasn't paying a great deal of attention: staying awake during university lectures was always a problem for me. That is why I have always preferred private tutors.</p><p> </p><p>Regardless, he mentioned again the reward of 10,000gp for the return of the breastplate, and then gave us what information he could of the events that evening. I must confess: I was contemplating what ten thousand gold pieces could do to stock and refit my laboratory, and wasn't paying a great deal of attention. GR is the investigator amongst us, though, and he has promised to follow up on everything the professor mentioned. Good for him, I say. I have more important work to do.</p><p> </p><p>We left the Cannith map [ref: PJ-V1-121],in the hands of the professor and his ogre colleague. They showed some interest in the map, and said they would look into the matter. Maybe now we can find out what all the fuss was about!</p><p> </p><p>I spent the rest of the day imagining the possibilities of ancient Cannith treasures."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>. -- An excerpt from the Personal Journal of Artemis Heuw, Volume 3</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"All Creatures Huge and Tiny: A Field Guide to the Fauna Under Sharn"</p><p>"Dealing with Dragons: A Treatise on Navigating the Customs and Etiquette of the High Courts"</p><p>"Through The Looking Glass: A Traveler's Guide to the Twelve Known Planes"</p><p>"Where's Your God Now?: Questioning the Relevance of the Dieties in Today's Society"</p><p>"All Things Dark and Slimy: A Catalogue of the Things that Lurk Underwater, Under Your Bed, and Under Sharn"</p><p> </p><p>. -- An excerpt from the List of School Papers of Artemis Heuw, Morgrave University, 994YK</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Devo, post: 2886615, member: 32183"] [b]The Collected Journals of Artemis Heuw, Excerpt 6[/b] "... single piece of uninterrupted teak wood, with no metal of any sort: no cap on it's foot and no design on it's head. I bought the cane for it's simplistic beauty, thinking, at the time, that it's singular composition would act as a blank slate -- like a clean sheet of paper -- for holding my enchantments. No such luck. Time and again I have drawn the magical matrices that would hold a spell, and time and again the infusion failed to take hold. I know it's not me -- even my modesty cannot deny that I excel at this profession -- so it must be this equipment. I have composed a list of properties necessary for a cane of masterful craft, which must have the following elements...." . -- An excerpt from the Craft Journal of Artemis Heuw, Volume 3 "And so ends another fruitless day in my laboratory. I desperately need to restock my supplies if I want to start crafting again -- I simply cannot work in such a deplorable state of lack [ref: CJ-V3-87]. What I need, though, are funds. Maybe someone in the DC will have some employment for us? We'll see tomorrow ... My writing will be brief tonight, as I have been mercilessly pummeled, poked, prodded, and stabbed today. Again, perhaps I should say. Ah, well. "Brevity is a sign of genius," or something like that. I suppose it is no coincidence that I am a man of few words. The DC met for breakfast in our usual spot: the Broken Anvil [ref: PJ-V1-74]. Ah, the painful joys of greasy potatoes and aged "pork". We were trying to decide how to make some money -- legally, of course -- when the answer fell right into our laps. Little Robin Hazeltine, the halfling we were very nearly acquainted with [ref: PJ-V2-112] came to us with another job offer. Well, the same job offer, actually. He had heard that the Breastplate of Drakken Khas [ref: PJ-V2-99] was stolen, and he claimed to have some information as to it's where-abouts. Since he had asked us to steal it for him the first time we met, I was instantly suspicious that whoever he did get to steal it had double-crossed him. Those suspicions were wiped clean away, though, as soon as he mentioned that he would pay us each 1500 pieces of gold to retrieve it, then -- after he had a chance to look it over -- allow us to return it to Boromar [ref: PJ-V2-107], it's rightful owner. Since Boromar had a standing reward of 10,000 gold for the armor's return, that meant the tidy personal profit of 3500 gold for what sounded like a simple job! The rest of the DC wasn't as interested in the prospect, however. Maybe they have some form of income that I am not aware of. They were unseemingly paranoid about RH's motives, and didn't want to trust him at all. IR was still of the opinion that RH would use the map on the breastplate to "loot the sacred graves of the dead." That sounded like an excellent idea to me -- what better way to recover the treasures of the past -- for knowledge's sake -- but to pull them from their place of respectful rest? There's a small bit of coin to be made in the endeavor, as well. IR's argument has always confused me, but she sticks to it and insists that she will not allow RH to do such a thing. I was most of the way through a rather clever and well thought out conversational stratagem -- an argument that would end with the DC taking RH's job -- when we were very rudely interrupted. The timing was rather inconvenient, as I could see that nearly everyone was seeing things my way. All conversation stopped, though, when we were accosted at our table. Now the Broken Anvil is not a large place, as these things are measured, but it can hold a fair number of people. Most of the clientele of the Broken Anvil are regulars: why would anyone go down to Lower Dura unless they absolutely had to? Being a regular, myself, I was, of course, on friendly terms with nearly all of it's patrons. Those few I do not know by name I certainly know by appearance. These strangers stood out like shifters at a Jorasco family reunion. Naturally, my keen senses picked them out as newcomers the moment they came into the Broken Anvil. I had been watching them for some time, but, being caught up in my thesis as I was, lost track of them from time to time. CA and GR had been watching them, too, and after talking to the city watch about the days events, we compared notes. Thus, the complete narrative I am allowed to write here. I'm jumping ahead in the story, though. The three strangers -- it might have been four or five; maybe even six -- had been circulating amongst the tables, looking over the other patrons and occasionally asking them questions. One barbaric looking fellow -- who undoubtedly had some ogre blood in him -- had been rather aggressively questioning... the guy with the red hair and the missing fingers... I don't remember his name. Regardless, learning nothing from him, he was making his way towards our table when another figure walked through the front door, scanned the crowd, looked to our table, and ordered his compatriots to "get us". The ogre took two strides towards us, plucked our table out from between us, and, throwing said table behind him, bellowed, "Give us the map!" Our poor server -- who has never told me her name -- squealed and ran. Actually, that might have been RH's squeal. I'm not sure what happened to RH after that point. He was there one moment, then gone as soon as things looked dangerous. And dangerous they were! Naturally, we tried genteel persuasion to convince these folks that we did not know what they were talking about, but they weren't here for conversation. They were here for a map. Before I could take control of the situation, they proved just what they were willing to do to get that map, too. The ogre-man pulled a pair of swords, though, perhaps, "cleavers" would be a more apt description. GR is a fine fellow, and slightly more skilled than I in physical combat, so I infused his jerkin with an enchantment of endurance [ref: CJ-V3-21] and wished him luck. I backed away. At the same time, though, one of the ogre's accomplices made his presence known by stepping out of the shadows behind us and throwing a pair of knives into CA's back. He looked sorely hurt by that, and, drawing his double-scimitar, CA charged the man. IR, meanwhile, had engaged the third of our enemies, a priest or warrior of the Silver Flame decked from helmeted head to booted foot in heavy, metal armor. I leant my considerable talent to her aid, infusing the man's armor with an enchantment that would quickly heat his armor [ref: CJ-V3-12] and, hopefully, fuse it into one piece. XL, meanwhile, stepped over to help CA with his foe, and their combined prowess dropped him quickly. The fool had allowed himself to be surrounded, then tried to run. In the spot where our table used to be, GR and the man-ogre were engaged in fierce combat. CA joined in the fight, but got sliced open pretty badly for his troubles. He fell, bleeding. Muscle and steel are all well and good in a fight, but I know that there are far more dangerous weapons one can bring to bear. Across the room, a sorceress had involved herself in the fight, obviously part of the attacking group. My trained eye immediately made note of her mystical acumen, and I knew that I had to deal with her before she "dealt" with us. I sidled around the edge of the room, avoiding the grunting, sweating, and bleeding strains of the physical combats taking place around me. XL was shrinking away from the fights going on in the center of the room, and I was about to reproach him for this when the distraction almost brought me in range of the armored warrior's sword. I jumped back and went around him, focusing on my target, not my friends. It's a good thing I did, too, because the sorceress had just pulled a wand, and with a word, unleashed a lightning bolt at IR! All of the other patrons had cleared out by this point, so we had a little more room to fight. One of IR's summoned creatures fought the armored knight in the middle of the room, the knight's armor glowing a hot, cherry red. IR herself had just gone over to heal GR, who jumped back into his fight swinging. With this new insult, though, IR turned her attention on the sorceress. You would think that an Aerenal elf steeped in the ways of magic would have recognized the threat right off. Fortunately for the DC, I was there. IR needn't have worried about the woman, though. XL and I were there to deal with her. Between the two of us, we were able to keep her mostly under control, then, with one good thwack from my favorite cane, she crumpled to the ground. Some time during this, GR -- with the occasional and opportunistic help from the rest of us -- had taken out the barbarian. He staggered, bleeding profusely, and tried to turn his attention to the knight. On the way, though, he used a wand of healing on the comatose CA. That delay may have cost us our success. The leader of our opponents came back in the front door -- perhaps to see whether his friends had the upper hand yet. As that was not the case, he called for a retreat. The giant-man stood again, at that point, healed by some half-ogre trickery, perhaps. Under cover of his long arms and long blades -- he had quite a reach with those weapons! -- those enemies that could withdrew from the combat, running like cowards through the front door. They left a parting gift, though, in the form of a monstrous, summoned scorpion, easily as large as the table we had just had breakfast at. Another combat was upon us! This one did not last long, though. Between us, we were easily up to the task of sending that giant vermin back to whatever place it had been summoned from. IR had even managed to heal CA into wakefulness, who then tried to charge into the combat. He needen't have bothered, though. Just as he arrived, the creature collapsed, then faded away in the manner of summoned creatures. We quickly checked outside, but could find no sign of our enemies. They had escaped. We had downed two of them, though, and when the city watch came we were more than happy to tell our side of the story. Many of the bar patrons spoke up in our defense, even though I did not know any of them personally. A couple of them even inquired as to our health. That certainly was polite of them. Whether we were okay is neither here nor there, however, for we had been attacked in public for a reason that none of us could understand. To be more precise, my companions were stumped -- I knew exactly what was going on, even if I didn't know why. Whereas the rest of the DC thought the map in question was the Breastplate of Drakken Khas [ref: PJ-V2-99], I had more logically rationalized that the map that our attackers was seeking was none other than the map we had pulled from the Cannith vault [ref: PJ-V1-119], buried below Sharn these many years. I mentioned as much to the DC, who had as one forgotten all about said map. None of us knew anything about the it, though, so we decided that it would need more research. Always one to make the best of a bad situation, I must say that I kept my head about me, even as wounded as I was. The city watch had been given the whole story, so I can but imagine their surprise when they made a list of the weapons and items of our downed foes, and do not find a wand of lightning. I took the wand from under their very noses, and they didn't suspect a thing! Now I just have to figure out how to use it. If I had the money, I could properly identify it. As it is, I shall simply carry it with me, and call upon it's magics when next the need arises. I am sure that my perfect memory and my very extensive training in the field of artifice will prove up to the challenge of activating so powerful an item blindly. And even if, by some small chance, I fail, what is the worst that can happen? ... It's been a full day since the attack at the Broken Anvil, and I am finally feeling up to moving about again. After receiving word from professor Boramar ir'Dayne at MU [ref: PJ-V2-107], the DC gathered at his office to discuss the missing breastplate. The night that it was stolen [ref: PJ-V2-121] we had offered BD our services in helping him recover it. He was rather out of sorts that night, but has decided now to take us up on our offer. The little halfling droned on and on about the very complicated history of the armor, it's relationship with two other powerful artifacts -- one a sword and one a shield -- and how the set as a whole was a map of some sort. I have to admit that I wasn't paying a great deal of attention: staying awake during university lectures was always a problem for me. That is why I have always preferred private tutors. Regardless, he mentioned again the reward of 10,000gp for the return of the breastplate, and then gave us what information he could of the events that evening. I must confess: I was contemplating what ten thousand gold pieces could do to stock and refit my laboratory, and wasn't paying a great deal of attention. GR is the investigator amongst us, though, and he has promised to follow up on everything the professor mentioned. Good for him, I say. I have more important work to do. We left the Cannith map [ref: PJ-V1-121],in the hands of the professor and his ogre colleague. They showed some interest in the map, and said they would look into the matter. Maybe now we can find out what all the fuss was about! I spent the rest of the day imagining the possibilities of ancient Cannith treasures." . -- An excerpt from the Personal Journal of Artemis Heuw, Volume 3 "All Creatures Huge and Tiny: A Field Guide to the Fauna Under Sharn" "Dealing with Dragons: A Treatise on Navigating the Customs and Etiquette of the High Courts" "Through The Looking Glass: A Traveler's Guide to the Twelve Known Planes" "Where's Your God Now?: Questioning the Relevance of the Dieties in Today's Society" "All Things Dark and Slimy: A Catalogue of the Things that Lurk Underwater, Under Your Bed, and Under Sharn" . -- An excerpt from the List of School Papers of Artemis Heuw, Morgrave University, 994YK [/QUOTE]
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