We have arrived back in town. I have cast comprehend languages on the letter from the halfling. It seems he was delivering a set of masterwork armor to someone in Vikna and he had a fair amount of cash on him. He was set to return to his family in Pebbleton. Also we were approached by the stablemaster and his helper who seemed to think that the halfling's horse was a hornless unicorn. The next morning I cast another comprehend language on the horse and we tried to communicate with no success. It is either not intelligent or does not trust us yet. The party had engaged in a Major debate over what to do with the sword and pedestal. Some were dead set on leaving it in Ezrak's room. I was totally opposed to this, thinking of all the frost damage to the poor smith's building. What were they thinking? So I finally got them to agree on burying it outside the cottage for safe keeping. It will eventually be Very useful if for nothing more than cold item storage (food & my alchemical ingredients, etc) But it was the Mayhem of the debate that appalled me. So reminiscent of the long hours trying to appeal to reason with the elf. After deciphering the letter, we realized that none of use knew the location of the halfling's home town. We spoke briefly with our former patron, & learned he would be reopening soon but that he also did did not know of this place. The party & I paid a visit to Scarza the messenger, and fellow guild member. His lovely assistant was with him - breathtaking ... probably in more ways than one. We spoke a bit very cordially & showed us the location of the town - which was not too far off from the route we must take for the druid. Since time will be of the essense, I assume we'll hasten to the druid's gathering then make the trip to deliver the sad news to the halfling's family. It's a shame we must leave so soon because I am so very close to mastering the new spells I have been working on. The druid was gruff on our return, which is understandable considering the specialty of good master Scarza. Wealsun/7: The journey started well. We made good time, & happily I was well provisioned for the journey. We amiably agreed on a very wise watch arrangement ... and I began working on a camp cot with the canvas I had bought. When we reach the first town, I will buy the needed wood for the arrangement. If all goes as planned, it should double nicely as a stretcher. As we journeyed, our mounts became more & more agitated ... and we ourselves became wary. Out from the brush rushed a HUGE bear with the head of a great owl, & with feathers mixed in with it's fur. We rapidly engaged it in combat, & having learned that I could safely cast color spray at the backs of my fellows, I did so - stunning the beast so my friends got many free blows while the beast was reeling. It was quite a magnificent creature. Feeling my mental energies returning, I then cast a Daze spell upon it. I much later remembered that Daze only affects humanoids. To my dismal it was unaffected & though my friends dealt it much damage, it reared & mauled our locksmith badly (He himself had valiantly & might I say quite successfully attacked the creature doing much of the damage upon it.) He dropped but the rest of our party managed to drop it with weapon attacks. The dwarf was a bit despondent for not landing a solid blow but he was as ever on the front line, so none may fault his courage. After the beast dropped, I began skinning and examining it ... the party, after healing the locksmith immediately mounted up & rode off on me with but a few words. They did not even check the brush for other victims. Rather than race after them like a scolded child, I finished my task and hours later caught up with them at their camp. It was eirie being in the woods alone, but I reminded myself that should I die, my karma would go on, & at least my death would have served to give wisdom to my friends. The fact that my interests are in the arcane do not make them any less valid than if the druid saw a Unicorn, or if the dwarf met a weaponsmith. So, it was a bit harrowing, but Lathander watched over me & I survived the test. Upon reaching camp, I threw the skin onto the fire (though I DID keep the claws) ... I did have some trouble skinning it, it being a bit different from the cattle & deer etc I've done while working with leatherwork. But a few mend spells would have fixed any errors in any case. It is a marvelous spell. I kept silent from the party, still a bit appalled. Fear been right at the dark side of my friends. At least the lady monk showed relief when I showed up safe - so our party is not totally without soul. I think the others actually were relieved also but the fragile mortal egos involved would not allow them to show it. Undoubtedly, they thought that if I died, it was my own foolish hubris that brought it on. A very callous approach to sentient life, regardless of the rationalizations made. I fear that I may have to repeat such a nerveracking ordeal so that comprehension may seep in. Hopefully I do not die in the effort. (Especially considering the entire journey is to help one of them make a religious gathering.) A humorous note against all the bad karma: one of the first days into our journey, the lady monk tried to make a meal. It was so very very bad, we all nearly were ill. I managed to overcome the queasiness after a few minutes, but some of the party looked a bit would not touch it. But she did try. (I wonder if she was truly sent north to take some cooking lessons?). A few days later, we heard some noise in the brush. The dwarf went to look, but soon was struck stiff - paralyzed. A real live Leprecaun came out, & was an utterly charming fellow. He gave us much information including about an evil god & cult trying to take over, called IUZ. And the sad news that a fellow druid had died in these woods. That indeed was a sad thing. Some very GOOD news: he informed me that the small dragon we had let go was a GOOD creature. I was very relieved that we had not left a thing of evil roam free. We gave the fellow some of our gold, which he seemed quite fond of - a racial trait I would guess. He was also a spell caster, but I did not trouble him about trading ... my guess would be a sorceror as opposed to being a wizard. I wonder how long it will take the druid to realize she should have asked him about the hornless unicorn & the wooden faerie. I should have mentioned it to her, but was not feeling too sociable yet at the time. Being deserted by friends can do that to you. ~joke~ Well, time to put the quill down, and do a bit of work ... Wealsun/11: Arrived at Somna - nice town but lacking a guild. It did have a zoo, but out of respect for the druid we refrained visiting. We found the bard at a local tavern. The performance was inspiring, and we moved to make contact as soon as it was done. The bard told us the history of the hornless unicorn, the content of which I will include below. Basically, the steed was made by the god - who split a normal unicorn into a mighty horse & a great weapon formed from it's horn. The boon was successful but not without cost, and in the final battle the weapon & steed were seperated. The could not be brought together again for 300 years & the steed would think itself a mortal steed all that time. They can now be brought back together, since the time has passed - though where the spear is, we do not know. It could be among the elves it served, in a burial mound, or a thousand other places. Perhaps the druids will have a clue. I stayed to speak with the bards after the others had gone back to the table, commissioning a work of song dedicated to the lovely lady necromancer. I just hope it does her some semblence of justice. We packed up and resumed our long trek to the gathering place. A few days out, we saw many lights in the distances ... torches or campfires from some vast throng. We did a cold camp til morning, but during the long night we were attacked by a while boar. I leaped up from my sleep, grabbing my spear. I cast with all my might, and I must say it seemed a forceful enough cast. But as I released I realized the timing had been off ... the missile flew straight & with massive force straight into the back of the new man. Never had a more forceful & misguided throw been done. It caught him square in the back, and fairly lifted him off his feet. He landed prone on the ground and I could see the shaft protruding a good foot from his chest, having skewed his heart. A heavy weight seemed to fall upon my heart as I realized he was slain. Were it not for my faith, I should have been totally destroyed. The others did manage to finish off the boar, and I think some harsh words were said but truth to tell, I was too shaken to remember them (especially odd for me, as my mind is usually iron cast in it's retention of words). Though this death was not to one as close to me as the ranger, it had the added horror that is was my own hand that had wrought it. Was it again cursed lucky dogging us from the temple, or was it divine justice ... karmic revenge for my abandonement earlier? I hope not. I would NEVER have wished such a thing in retaliation. The gods though are often known as being unforgiving in such matters. It is my only consolation that he will be on to his next incarnation, and a new and hopefully bountiful life awaits him. We continued on, the druid going on to her gathering and bringing the body of the new man with her. Notes to Self : perhaps the druid cankarmically check balance upon us? Mediate on the karmic circle of life Wealson/17: We arrived in Pebbleton & found the widow. We returned the letter & possessions of the halfling we had found, and compensation for the steed. We stayed in town near a week and the druid returned to us. If seemed there was naught they could do for our friend, and had seen to a burial. The druid seemed less happy than would have been expected after a festival but I will refrain from asking. I hope she too has not suffered karmic damage. We stayed in town, and I finished my tent and camp cot. We did find out about some musicians that had found an odd carving on a tree and we went to speak to them. They were the oddest pair - disagreeing on everything. But they did manage, between them, to lead us to the tree with the glyph carved in it. It was a moon with a number of slashes through it. As we copied the rune and discussed it, we heard a voice ... a golden owl spoke to us, informing us that he was Tashek, a mystical being who had advised the elven hero who had seperated iriandel from it's horn. (Note: he had advised the elven hero Against it - and been proven correct). He offered to lead us to the barrow wherein the spear lay. He was a magnificent creature, with golden feathers. A minion of Athena, Queen of Knowledge and Wisdom. Notes: buy paper to record Tashek's history etc, Also summon familiar while we are close to druidic area Lost Pages: I have had a habit of cutting out pages of my journal then replacing them within my book when completed. In a extremely foolish move a few pages of the journal were misplaced then lost. I shall briefly revisit the events which occurred. One horrifying event occurred during which I had let my judgement lapse & the dwarf & the monk went to negotiate with some border guards/toll collectors. Shortly, the monk was throwing stones, invoking them in battle. We rushed to our friends aid, & all but one of the guards was slain - the individual fleeing for their stronghold. I was even more greatly disturbed when I found out the battle was over a few silver in toll. We continued & on our journey to the barrow, we had a night visit of a battle reenactment performed by phantoms of dead warriors. Our sleep was quite disturbed by the scene. We continued to the barrow and I was surprised by yet another act of folly - our party had not brought any digging gear. Luckily I had had the foresight to bring some. We dug our way in & the work was quite refreshing. We made our way in. In one direction we found a room filled with debris and a poisonous plant (the druid again not realizing it). We nearly fell into a teeter totter pit trap, then fought an animated creation of dirt in the form of a man. There was a long deadended hall filled with odd rune covered tombstones. The other way was a hall with a ceramic statue which had a most unusual & fascinating ooze creature within which we were forced to kill. It was quite formidable. Then there was a dozen or so animated human hands in gauntlets. The most fierce obstacle that we faced was a throne room guarded by animated weapons. We crossed with heavy damage & did open a trapdoor to a lower level - an idea of mine to throw junk into the room distracting the weapons but we were too unorganized about it. On the lower level we faced traps, a ghast and then a wight. We did fairly well and recovered much treasure including an ivory spear we assumed to be Iriandel's horn. Weak and weary we made our way to to outside. Without was a very impressive contingent of guards, friends of those we had so dis- honorably slain. The leader was very angry and I hurried out to speak to him before the others had a chance to anger him. I offered him a magic weapon and 100 sov for each man we had slain (4) as his lord's due for the loss we had incurred him. He said to fetch the loot and he would decide on seeing it. We managed to talk and finally get together over 400 sov in cash, the druid throwing in her pin to ward against golems. I also took out the bastard sword & spoke again to the leader of the locals. He examined the goods, then decided that TWO more magic items were in order, as a total of four of their men had died. I went back in & we did agree. I was fearful in the negotiations - caught between the dwarves wanting to fight it out, & the druid who wanted to give away the mysterious conch cup (such an odd looking item bearing a strong potential for being powerful magic. We settled upon the monk's bell which summoned food & my cursed potion of stuttering. I brought them & a spellcaster of theirs cast detect magic & even took a sip of the potion. I thought perhaps he would realized it was cursed but he seemed to resist the effects. I was only slightly fearful of being killed myself but that my entire party might foolishly die also, & to on my mind. The locals agreed to the fee, telling us NEVER to confront their authority again & warn other likewise. I readily agreed, for they were TOTALLY in the right. As they did prepare to go, I half expected them to take our horses & gear also but they did not. This in itself proved them honorable in my mind. We made our way outside & after a brief respite, we touched the ivory spear to the forehead of iriandel. A most unforgettable & magnificent change overtook the beast & it transformedinto a true unicorn, a creature of astounding beauty, power & grace. It made all the hardships seem worthwhile, & it spoke to us vowing friendship & gratitude. It touched us with it's horn, healing us & then trotted off toward it's forest to resume it's long neglected guardianship. I noted as we left that the pond was free of spirits & felt extremely gratified. We made our way back to Pebbleton (paying the toll) and assumed the relative safety of the Inn, our jobs done. As we were relaxing in the Inn in Pebbleton, we hard a loud explosion from outside. We rushed out & saw a man with two fiery looking hounds standing before the bakery. He was laughing, & the bakery was rapidly becoming engulfed in flames. I ran to the bakery but could see no one injured within - as I turned back I saw the druid was detecting balance upon the man, whereat he sic'd his hounds on her. The dwarves did try to intervene but the beasts obeyed his commands, allowing the fighters attacks as they rushed by. I ran back behind the dwarves & blasted the hounds & the man with a color spray. He seemed TOTALLY unaffected, which was odd - usually people at least have the courtesy to blink. One of the hounds DID seem affected. his attacks seeming to be off. The man blasted at me with a spell - a bolt of black energy came toward me but his aim was horribly off but he did manage to graze the dwarf - who recoiled as if struck by horrid dazk energies. I myself would probably have died from such a surge, being not nearly as physically stalwart. The battle raged on, the locksmith getting in a number of fine shots with his crossbow. We shall have to try to arrange to keep him at a point of vantage in the future. It was impressive. The dwarves had a streak of bad luck, even our new tall friend who was using the magic longsword. I myself did very well, achieving shot after shot with my darts. I got the final shot in on one of the hounds, & was engaging the other when the druid dropped & the monk dragged her into the inn. I was left alone facing the hound for a bit, but took only minor injury - then retreated behind the dwarves as they came up having finally dropped the madman. In the confusion I lost track of who got the final shot on the second hound, but it was a team effort. We did regroup in the inn, and the druid seemed okay. She would be a great loss to us if she died, especially as she is one of the few remaining members of her tribe to survive. (The only other member I know is not likely to either avenge them or even cared they were destroyed.) It also would be odd not to have her nearly perpetually annoyed presence with us. I recovered all the bodies, & took my time skinning the hounds - also removing the heart, brain, glands, etc. I kept the skull & bones also. The druid took the spear, the dwarf the shield and chainmail. The man we stripped, & he had magic chainmail and a masterwork flail. Neither of which I could use but the dwarf thought he might be able to have it retooled to fit him - though he will have a little extra material from the sleeves & waist, etc. We divied up the monies from selling the non-magical loot of the dungeon after paying for identifies. The halflings actually having a man in town capable of it which did please me no end. To whit, we had a +1 obsidian spear, a +2 longsword, a darkwood shield, a +1 light mace of throwing & the magic cup. The cup was by far the best item for myself - it creates a random potion once a week (Until the charges run out - the mage thought there were perhaps 20 or so, but as these items go, there is always the chance for depletion. I took the cup, promising to give some of the potions to the party. Perhaps the necromancer might like such a skeleton? The dwarf took the longsword, the locksmith the mace, but the monk took little. She seems to share my disaffection for the material things. I have been keeping track of major picks magic items : the dwarf took one of the gauntlets of dexterity before, as did the locksmith along with the dagger of shocking (now out of charges but still a magic dagger). The druid has taken nothing major up until the spear. The monk did on one adventure take the ring of protection. I myself have taken nothing of much use to me, though I have taken items which if sold have a good cash value, Oh, there were 4 spells on ceramic tablets - an odd form of spell page as it were but these are of little cash value. I have always believed that the members who can use something should be the ones who get it. & the party seems most agreeable to this ideal. The dwarf has had the lion's share of items, but then I prefer to have the one's in the front of the fray best protected. What protects them protects me in the long run. I was thinking though, that perhaps the darkwood shield would be better in the hands of the locksmith or monk - since it seems to have negligible encumbrance and little weight. I would opt for it myself but I must always keep a hand free for casting. The dwarf will probably be agreeable to this, as it doesn't really aid him except cutting his weight a bit. I packed up my gear, including the canvas wrapped body of the madman and the hounds, etc. And we made our way back to Leirfjord without incident. The madman had a holy symbol of Cyric, a powerful but mad god who wishes to be the ONLY god, and to rule with his clerics even more tyranically then any current personae. I remembered this from my studies. I was VERY happy to get back to Leirfjord for I have but minor finishup on my studies & I will have more spells in my book. The druid has expressed a dislike for the Cottage being in the forest at all, and though I initially did want to settle in it, I aquiesced to her line of reasoning. My plan is to hire laborers to remove the stonework from the place, move it to town, where we might use the materials to build a small house. The party again is discussing the sale of the frostbrand/pedestal & I am about to give up though we have no use for the money. Note: Bring bodies etc to Scarza Make scrolls/potions/etc ADDITIONAL NOTES ......... A letter found in the pocket of the madman: "Whoa the world of Oerth, for the dark one rides collecting the souls of his people, and gaining strength. He of the black cape, hell's chosen one, shall take one of purity of soul and great virtue, and will make her his. And from his seed, shall grow the greatest darkness to befall this land, destroying all before it. Let it be known that when the sun does streak across the sky in the dark of the night the daemon's child will be born, & the darkness will crawl from its womb of purity & will swallow the light of this world." Madness, all. But I took pains to memorize it, should subterfuge be needed against their people at some point. I shall have to refresh my studies on their religion. Perhaps the Goddess of Winter isn't such a vile diety - she is harsh, but not insane. And winter has a beauty to it also. Oh, speaking of writing, we stopped in Somna & picked up the work I had commissioned from the bard. I have planned the small house I would like to have built. Just large enough to be comfortable. With bunk rooms it will have beds for 8, with cot and couch in the main room also if preferred. Continue The Tale of Iriandel as retold by the bard of Somna About five centuries ago, when this land was covered by a much larger forest and inhabited by a tribe of wild elves, the nearby plains to the south, now called the Barrens, were home to a clan of semi-nomadic riders called the Lorai. Their descendents are now known as the Rovers of the Barrens. Even though the elves and the Lorai were not friends, they co-existed peacefully. The leader of the Lorai, Turiew, was handsome and strong. The elves had no single ruler, but they revered a guardian of the forest, a unicorn, named Iriandel. One early summer day, Turiew was hunting in the woods. There he met Deleflin, a beautiful lady of the elven tribe. She was riding the noble Iriandel, which immediately bolted out of Turiew's sight. However, the brief encounter was enough for the human and the elf to fall in love. For three months, the two lovers saw each other only from afar, for their races were forbidden to mingle. The sylvan elves distrusted the proud Lorai, and Turiew's duty was to marry a woman of his people. Iriandel was worried about Deleflin's feelings and somewhat jealous of her human beloved, but he soon began to look at their deep and unusual affection with sympathy. With autumn came a horde of barbarians, the Sya-Negan. They were cruel humans whose blood had been mixed with that of orcs and ogres. The Sya-negan rode horses and giant wolves. Their leader, Tamaich, was a powerful sorcerer and warrior. He wanted to drive out the Lorai, pillage their supplies and spend the winter in their territory. Even though they were outnumbered, Turiew and his men prepared for battle. Tamaich challenged Turiew to a chieftain's duel to decide which people should leave the land. Turiew agreed to the duel despite rumors that Tamaich was invulnerable to most weapons and that no horse could approach him withouttaking fright. In the meantime, the elves had decided not to assist the Lorai, knowing that they would be safe in their forest and that the Sya-negan would leave them be. Deleflin and Iriandel however, decided to help Turiew. The elven lady, who was a priestess of Corellon Larethian, asked her god to give Turiew a suitable weapon and a fearless horse. Deleflin was granted the power to transform her unicorn friend. She took away Iriandel's horn and turned it into a magic, silver-tipped spear. In the same instant, the unicorn transformed into a strong, grey-maned horse. However, with this power Corellon laid one condition: Iriandel could be returned to his normal self at anytime within three days. However, if the spear and Iriandel remained apart for more than three days, they would remain so for another three hundred years. Only after the three hundred years have passed would the two be able to be rejoined, and thus restoring Iriandel to his normal self. Turiew was given his mount and weapon with a warning to return in three days, no later. He said goodbye to Deleflin with a kiss and went to confront his nemesis, Tamaich. The duel occurred at dawn. Turiew's steady mount was not frightened by the half-orc's presence and charged Tamaich readily. After a brief fight on horseback, both riders fell to the ground. Combat continued until the exhausted Turiew pierced Tamaich's chest with a fatal thrust. The half-orc died, but not before striking a final blow with his poisoned knife. Thus both chieftains lay on the ground, facing death. The Sya-Negan immediately attacked the Lorai, and a great battle ensued. The outnumbered Lorai, though brave, were overcome and slaughtered by the barbarians. Turiew's spear remained on the battlefield and was captured by the victors. His horse fled toward the southern wood, the Fellreev. The Sya-Negan burned the corpses of their enemies and buried their own. Through the cold winter, they covered the core of their fortified camp with earth and stones, raising an enormous barrow over their chieftain's mortal remains and treasures. This length work was finished by the following spring, when the barbarians left the land to return back to their homelands in the northeast. Deleflin was sunk in despair. Her beloved Turiew was dead, and Iriandel's spirit was torn from its body. The three day limit to reunite the spear and horse had elapsed. Some courageous elves who had attempted to recover the spear from the watchful eyes of the Sya-Negan were quickly slain. Deleflin's prayers to Corellon went unanswered, and the divine gift turned into a curse. Nothing would restore Iriandel's true form for at least three hundred years. Finally, bent by guilt and sorrow, Deleflin decided to leave this world for the place where elves are immortal. Poem & Song for Aseneth, Mistress of Necromancy