[AP] Zharillia Campaign Report - 3.8.12 Second Perspective

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[AP] Zharillia Campaign Report - 3.8.12 Second Perspective
Zharillia Campaign Report 3.8.12 Courtesy of the amazing +Jason Biggins [Transcriptionist's note to the reader: the following is all that is known of this particular entry. Neum E'bemmi, Royal Librarian for Xuean Uqu-arus (23rd Lord-Protector of Sitherath), at some point after the year 1484 (common calendar) discovers a previously unknown volume among the collected works. Suspected to have been the grimoire of a minor occultist, no other primary sources of information are known to exist concurrent with the date of this entry with any mention of this individual. Over time Neum became obsessed with this book and its author, eventually amassing every known scrap of information in his retirement from public service (1503). The picture he was finally able to assemble is said to have shocked even a harden native of the City of Courtesans such as himself. Witnesses to his very public act of vandalism -- setting fire to his former trust, the Royal Library in Sitherath -- and his very messy suicide -- laying prone in the path of the clockworks in the main square, crushed between a pair of brass sprockets -- claim that Neum was raving incessantly about demons, horrific rituals, and "pink clovers". Later investigations found no further clues as to the initial cause of his distress (the librarian having destroyed his personal papers prior to his rampage). Unknown at the time, a young maiden standing under the clock tower during the incident discovered a scrap of paper that had fallen from the Neum's pocket at the moment of his demise. The bit of paper contained the following:] After a week of intense study (and the outlay of no small portion of my newly-won fortune) my new found tutor, Oxnard, aided me in gaining a truly unique gift: a Night Owl familiar! Shimmering jet-black feathers. Piercing, glowing blue eyes. Seemingly no real fear of daylight, truly a feat for his breed, but certainly not his favorite time of day {and who can blame him...the best julliber buds are not picked until the twin moons are full in unison, nor does daylight aid one recovering from a previous night's drinking}. Thus it has been a very dry, sobering week...to say nothing of wondering about the envy Zenatos may yet be harboring for such a prize {he bares closer watch and the usual "inducements" to loyalty...and thus more bribes to the blonde wench downstairs to continue her flirting with him}. Also after our last adventure it has occurred to me that holding the secret of the machine-bear lair close may actually be a better solution to future endeavors. Some place nearby which we can use to base our adventures from could be..."enriching" later on. Especially if I am able to obtain some more..."unique supplies" with which to conduct experiments into new areas. During our return to the keep this time around, we discover some standouts among the mercenaries we acquired from our "benefactor": * Alexander "De Rutabega" Manning, Worst Explorer Ever, Dabbler In The Dozen Languages, Hero Of La Mantcha!, fighter from parts unknown...and his rather attractive Zimbabwean {what/when/wherever that is} wife * Rubro, a monk with savage fists of fury & might Replenished and rested we decide to return to the lair of the wretched machine-bears with our new companions, in the hope that they can lend some much-needed resources to our adventures. Having explored the northern & eastern doors, we opted to proceed through the unexplored area to the south. What we found inside was both shocking and amazing: a library -- quite clearly a room of scholarly (and magical) research. However it was, unfortunately, completely blasted and burned to a cinder. Nothing, not a scrap of paper or tome, appears to have survived. Of particular interest was the symbol carved into the center of the room: Shorgoven's Ward, used extensively in demonic summoning rituals, which normally serves to protect the caster against that which is summoned. In this case the caster was either out of their depth or something went horribly wrong after completing the ritual. The charred remains of the room attest to their incompetence. Also among the remnants was a warding circle with the word "Elsbreath" inscribed within it. {further research needs to be done for the purpose of this additional protection.} Of much more worrying concern was the set of footprints burned {BURNED!} into the ground outside the circle. Proceeding with haste and not wishing to upset my companions, I said nothing and we proceed to search the room. A door at the southwestern end led into a more puzzling room. A small room {practically a walk-in dressing suite for a minor noble} filled with copper pipes -- some leaking a smelly green slime. {A quick test of sample materials showed the substance to be 'ecto-plasmic slime', a truly nasty acid-based substance able to dissolve nearly anything but glass into the same sort of slimy substance...truly not to be toyed with, thus I sent Zentanos to collect a sample in some of his glass containers for further experimentation...given its power I need to make sure the sample is secured at the earliest opportunity.} Some of the pipes are warm, some very, very hot. At south end, a large pipe, hollow in the middle, a draft coming out of it. One of our new companions hit upon the idea of poking inside the hollow area with a wooden stick and discovered a hidden catch, releasing a secret door into another room...a treasure room, as it turns out. Inside were found two locked chests: one made of stone, one of a silvery-blue wood with banding. We poked and prodded them for traps and nothing happened. Our monk friend, Rubro, was able to break open the wooden chest with his fist -- and failed to notice a contact poison applied to the surface. His arm began tingling and he fell gravely ill, but my man Cal tended the wound and stabilized the monk's condition. Inside, the chest contained "loads and loads of silver". Brandon's man, Maynard, smashed open the stone box and found more silver. Realizing our good fortune, we elected to remove the haul and return to the keep {vouchsafing it with our trusted banker, Chulin Tomith.} [Transcriptionist's note to the reader: the word "trusted", while included in this version, had been scratched out heavily in the original.] Ever the inventive sort, Brandon recalls our supply of blankets and sacks in order to secure the chests without exposing ourselves to the possible poison(s). However, as our luck would have it... Upon re-entering the "pipe room" we notice the floor is now full of snakes -- large, slimy, gray-green pit vipers. We would have preferred to by-pass them altogether, but the cramped quarters and the risk of exposure to leaking slime made combat a foregone conclusion. Fortunately there were no serious injuries {Cal having already used up his particular medical abilities for the day} -- doubly lucky in that pit vipers are so very, very poisonous, even among reptiles -- and we dispatched them soon enough. Not wishing to waste such a rare resource, we placed the snake corpses into the blankets around the chests {an extra precaution to dissuade the mercs from getting too curious} and headed back out. In crossing back into the library we must have set off some sort of trigger which caused four "mechanical men" with "stinky sticks" {some sort of pungent, sticky residue which could easily incapacitate our most-hardened warriors} to attack us. These automatons appeared to be made of snow-wood {quite unique among such artifices...immune to many different elements} and came out of nowhere...obviously stored in hidden alcoves along the walls. Some of our troupe were hit with the nasty goo {on my next trip back to the lair I must remember to have Zentanos collect a sample} and sudden panic sets in {as well as some projectile vomiting}. Armed only with my daggers and feeling overwhelmed by our trials, I decided to test a theory and risk my life {truly a rush of the humours!}: with all my wizardly manner I stepped forward, and in a clear, commanding voice, demanded that the "men" cease their attacks and return to their areas immediately...and so they did. {A sudden shudder ran through me as I thrilled to the notion of commanding this "army"...and a moment of fear struck me as I truly wondered if my spirit may have been previously vouchsafed by some Dark Force, unknowingly, of course, and perhaps was merely saving me for some future horror...I cannot say that the notion has yet passed from my thoughts.} With that we were able to flee unmolested from the strange caverns. The mercenaries were instructed to break camp and avoid the load of "dangerous snakes" if they valued their lives. We took a separate wagon with the loot and headed back into town. Past the watch guard and right up to the banker's door...off-loading the treasure directly into his vaults {after counting out the sum three times and ensuring his requisite percentage, of course.} It was decided that given the haste of our trek (all of eight hours, all tolled), we should rest, recover, and indulge a bit while planning our next move. While a tidy sum, it is hardly a life-altering fortune...thus plans need to be made to secure the future and plot our next few moves. On this particular point I have been pondering a good deal of late... [The entry stops here. Transcriptionist's note to the reader: in spite of the unfortunate circumstances surrounding the demise of Neum E'bemmi, notions of a dark conspiracy surrounding these works should not be given any credence. That the young maiden who discovered this entry was eventually tried, convicted, and executed in her own village several years later for attempting to resurrect the worship of the demon-goddess Lel-lathuu, should have no bearing on this historical record.] nike air max acg specs , Air Jordan 1 Low "Triple White" 2019 For Sale