Salazar’s notes (session three):
Stupid clerics. I was cursed, and evidently the curse was to be a moron unable to act. No fun at all to see your team in battle, and you can’t do them a damn bit of good. So it became wise, proper and right for us to meander into a swamp where a big crocodile tried to eat Peelp. Permission to consume goblin denied! It was evident enough that we were lost, which made me start to wonder about the elf chick. Elf chicks are supposed to know how to get you through swamps, stuff like that. But hey, everyone screws up. It’s not like I could have done better, except that I’d have stayed the hell out of all swamps.
We also wasted a shambling mound (I was no help there either…sense a trend?), then surprised Cletus the Ogre Farmer and his pet dog and pig. Frosti cut loose with some terrifying piece of ice that just laid Cletus out deader than Pygmy’s sense of tact and humility. Unfortunately for Frosti, that was it for her; she died a barnyard death at the teeth of either a pig or dog. I can’t say I found her cuddly, and I wouldn’t have screwed her with Pygmy’s wedding tackle, but you had to respect her ability to slay an ogre. There’s no way we get through those fights without more dead without the Clerlock David patching us up and shooting warlock stuff out his hands.
After going back to the reptiles to admit failure, they yanked the curse off me and said ‘try again’. To help out, they sent a dude with fire shooting out his mouth, Tennis or somesuch. Nice not to have to cook your food, just hold it up and breathe on it—medium rare! Some illogical efforts to milk them for extra compensation flopped big time. Okay, back to the keep, where I got some odd instructions from Peelp to guard a door. Which I did—I figured he had a plan—but I wasn’t sure why I wasn’t just sent in to do what I do well. Pretty soon I just did that anyway, feeling pretty stupid hanging around outside a door while I could hear us mixing it up with some shadow guys, a mage and a big half-dragon. There was some sort of nasty looking shadow blob in the middle, and the fight was on. Tennis gave them a major dose of breath weapon, but the big half-dragon was pretty tough to whip. They got Tennis; another KIA casualty, all for the sake of a bunch of worried lizards who abducted us. I took my usual beating while elf chick pitched in, once she broke loose from being held. Long ago, in the South, I learned some nasty mind tricks to shake off manipulative mind magic, and they served me well until one got me and sent me running like a freak. Embarrassing, even more embarrassing than standing around like a mental defective during battle.
The room had some statues, which I sensibly let someone else mess with. Peelp, who is handy enough finding hidden stuff, found a pressure plate that would let us in a back room. There were some more shadow guys, a shadow dog of some kind, and a couple lizards peppering us with arrows from a spiral staircase leading up. A good fight for me, two kills, elf chick got one. Part of my job is to charge ahead up stairs to dangerous situations, so I did that. We found the lizard slammer, with a street person and a bunch of lizards chained up by a big lizard jailer. Something supernatural about him, normal weapons didn’t seem to do much. Magical bastard swords and Clerlock energy, however, did rather more. The Pogdog, which is actually a f***ing bear (Pygmy flunked Animal Identification 101 in druid school), came pretty close to dying as usual.
It’s evident that elf chick (who wants from me only to be left the hell alone; I can handle that) is not enamored of the Pygmy/Pogdog relationship, thinking it a form of slavery. Not sure what to make of that but it’s none of my damn business. Anyway, we took down the giant supernatural iguana and let the prisoners go. One turned out to be Brother Gilbert, a monk rather than a street person. He’d have fit in fashion-wise back in the docksides of Athkatla. The rest were lizards we were supposed to spring. Brother Gilbert scares me worse than anyone else in this war party. For one thing, he doesn’t drink. For another, looks like he doesn’t screw. Lastly, he doesn’t want anything. How do you relate to someone without visible motivations? At a wary distance, that’s how, because they will beat your ass. Worse yet, they might try to help you attain enlightenment. There was a brief debate about some unholy water and what to do with it. Clerlock wanted it poured out, which he is kind of obligated to do. Peelp was evidently thirsty and bogarted a vial. What’s wrong with just buying and filling a waterskin?
We took the liberated lizards back to Lizardville, and they were happy with us. Anyway, we did what the lizards wanted, so now they’ll give us some magical gear I can’t use. That’s okay. I’m not dead and this is a good paying gig, with no nosey people and no one getting attached to me. I am not at all sure they’re getting their money’s worth from me, but that really isn’t my problem.