Vulcarsgrave and the Obsidian Tower

Thunderhead's Journal Part VII

The thrill of victory!! In spite of my beardless state, I was finally given a task worthy of my ability! A steel cage match! Of course, they never could have suspected that Thunderhead Gloamingborn was trained in the art of the squared circle by the greatest luminaries of the day: Andre the Hill Giant, Ric Flayer, and of course, Hulk Drogon. Sentinel Hall has gained a stout ally this day, and the noble Woodbine too, who acquitted himself with a chivalry hereto unknown in the barbarous types. I am proud to share an apprenticeship with Woodbine. Though he is simple, he has seen much suffering in his short years. I think perhaps Sentinel Hall will give him the discipline and purpose he seeks, though, we will both always be Faterinos first. Starting as a homeless dwarf bent on revenge, I find myself in the company of good friends, military comrades, and the lovely Cirrus, flower of my life. Moradin, if you listen, let us stay at high tide, I am not yet ready to diminish back into the sea.

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strange times in the fringe
strangetimes

I am perplexed by the mores of Vulcarsgrave. A simple elven warrior is not equipped to cope with the gnarled nature of such a perilous megalopolis, as Vulcarsgrave. Extol Obad-Hi! For I have the Faterinos to ensure I am not lured too deep into the seedy underbelly of the Fringe and the unsavory characters that inhabit this godforsaken ward. We began our adventures seeking Swazo and killing many humans in the process (highlight of the day). I had a notable kill. I did not learn his name but I do recall his ocular matter staining my boots after his orbits burst into flames. Our BFF from the shit tunnel, Isidro, was got. In an acrid manner, his orbs burned from his skull, slit throat. My simple elven logic leads me to believe his strange feather tattoo may have something to do with it. Scratch got word from Lovne that folk legend, Helliosh is up to no good. Scratch and I seek Helliosh and stumble upon a Isitha, the seeker. This lady has all the answers, which is great, because apparently our fates are entwined. She says the faterinos are dreamy, because she often has visions of our awesome conquests. She was so kind to share her visions of the future, battle royale, Scratch vs Hellios, crossbows, clown suits and jewels. Scary goings on at the tannery, but she did leave us with these words, “Friends come dear, heroes may come from the darkest place”. Lets get ready to rumble. Oh yeah, tryout updates: DY, Thunderhead and Woodbine all took a stab a guild and I am happy to report it was a cage match to the death and the faterinos came out on top. Thunderhead and Woodbine are sharing an apprenticeship, we are making things happening. I am confident in our ability to twist fate and have scratch on the other end of that crossbow and assassinate Helliosh. I am looking forward to quick halfling hash junket with DY, for research purpose only. In order to better understand the mindset of the addict combatants Helliosh has unleashed onto the city. Isitha said it’s good for you. It may help me fit in here in Vulcarsgrave.

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DM log Session 13

Session 13:

People:
Kaylorp
Sactos
Letong
Zuazo
Tworp Browncloth
Isidro
Luvnei
Asitha the Seer
Major Wolveron
Places:
Grainery
bandits’ tent in The Fringe
Asitha’s Tent
Items:
empty vial
vial of Fires of Hell
satchel of Halfling leaf (5 nugs)

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Into the darkness...

We are in strange times, indeed. Under the bustle of Vulcarsgrave lies shadows and darkness. This is now where I reside. I have now been inducted into the order of the Silent Watch. The process was as strange and peculiar as I should have expected. Under very precise orders, Luvnei instructed me to go to [REDACTED]. As the Faterinos slept, I slipped away. Once I arrived at [REDACTED], I waited until the appropriate time. Like I was told, I [REDACTED], then [REDACTED], then [REDACTED]. But nothing happened! I waited a little longer, then left. Only until I went around the corner, I unexpectedly [REDACTED]! Elf alive. At least I have these new [REDACTED]. My only fear now is that this initiation will strain the bond with the Faterinos. Yet I am sure each has their own secrets. They must know that this path we are on is dangerous, yet I am prohibited to tell them details. Our current mission now is to stop the red-eyed, drug fueled fiends from raiding the beastly district. Ironic, as they are the true beasts! I do wonder how our good friend Donaldinho will fare. He is want to dabble in the carefree exercises of many a temptation. Will the allure of this halfling hash be too strong for him to resist? I will keep a watchful eye on him, so he may not stray too far.

-Scratch

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Thunderhead's Journal Part VI

I am made to look the fool. Beardless! The shame is almost too great to stand, and yet I know it is for the greater good. I am incensed that my companions do not recognize the sacrifice that I have made for our safety. I am of the opinion that my beardless state contributed to my poor performance during the various tests of military acumen at Sentinel Hall. The shame! And yet, perhaps I am simply not made to be a follower. Yes, there is wisdom, and comfort, in the thought. I shall endeavor to try again tomorrow, but if I should fail once more, I will admit that I am not cut out for a life of cowering servitude, even for such an organization as Sentinel Hall. There is still much work to be done. The Faterinos must be ever vigilant in our quest to bring order to a world of chaos. The talk of red-eyed bandits has awakened our curiosity. We will venture to the Fringe in order to better explore the series of break-ins that have plagued the city. Perhaps these fiends can lead us to the Hellions that we have heard Scratch mention. Sometimes I think that this city is just a step beyond the understanding of a simple dwarf. To find out that Swiftus’ father is in fact a member of the Gem Cutters guild is a step too far! Everything seems to be connecting in ominous ways with overtones of extreme personal danger. Still, we are hearty and we are alive. What else can we ask of life?

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DM log Session 12

I’m going to try to do a basic post of people/places/items from each session. Should help to keep things better organized.

People:
Heralderin
Percival Muckraker
Pikorax
Major Wolveron
Sapier Bombottler
Dimici the Pious
Bieron Swiftish
Kyle Malmsteen
Places:
The Ivory Dungeon
Items:
Wand (see items tab)

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Thunderhead's Journal Part V
A great escape

There are days, perhaps not as many as I might hope, that I believe the Faterinos are capable of becoming a force for good in this world the likes of which has seldom been seen. Our ways are inelegant, our company uncongenial to outsiders and those of good breeding, and yet of late our wanderings have allowed us to bring righteousness to a world beset by evil and inequity. Thinking back on the last few hours, it seems impossible that we have come out of it alive. Let me begin at the beginning.

After being rescued by Luvneiduring our botched attempt to prove our worth to the Silent Watchers, he tasked us to rescue a young initiate by the name of Isidro who had similarly failed in his task. We were informed that he would be held in jail in the old part of the city, and that we had until only 5 in the evening to return Isidro to the Soggy Mind in the Beastly District. We set upon our task in various ways.

Scratch decided to search the archives for blueprints of the jail after consulting with the Masons Guild and being told that the old building documents of the city are stored in the Conservatory, though such documents were notoriously inaccurate as a result of their age. He also decided to check in with the Builders Mutual Protection Society, which we were informed handle all public works. The rest of the Faterinos decided to observe the jail and see if we could discover any patterns of movement that might result in easy access.

Scratch tells us that he realized checking in with the old maps would probably be fruitless. At that exact moment, he caught an urchin trying to pick his pocket. The filthy cur! He is lucky that Scratch captured him, as Scratch holds a soft spot for thieves and scoundrels in his heart of hearts. The young scamp was lucky that Scratch only forced the boy to go traipsing through the shit-filled sewers in an attempt to find a secret entrance to the jail. Scratch was rewarded with excrement on his clothes, in the very pores of his skin. Still, his investigation would prove useful.

Meanwhile, Donaldinho Yorge, NabaYo Kinderhookian, Woodbine Grimsleep, and myself were able to discover that several revelers from the Gaiety Squad, as well as other drunks, were being carted in and out of the prison, sometimes escorted by proper soldiers from Marmarin Hall, not just the city guardsmen. With Scratch returned, we determined that there may have been another sewer entrance to the jail.

Donaldino was charged with distracting the crowd while a grate was removed to allow access to the city. We were unexpectedly interrupted by Plinkeratz and Brawny, two members of the Troubadors Guild who did not appreciate Donaldino giving an unlicensed performance. They gave us certain rules that Donaldino would have to follow in order to be allowed entry, but we really just wanted them to go away so our subterfuge would not be discovered. They told us to call upon them at their guildhall if Donaldino was interested in further work.

Once in the sewer, Scratch and I were able to discover and ancient rusted gate that seemed to roughly correspond with where the jail should have been above. We rigged up a makeshift rope-bridge by catching a throwing axe within the bar cells. Scratch was able to make his way to the other side of the bridge and successfully pick the lock, opening the gate. His resulting investigation did sadly result in Scratch being once again shat upon by the guards above, one would almost think he was beginning to enjoy the taste, but thanks to his slyness we were able to find a secret entrance into the jail cells on the lower level of the prison.

At this point the true escape was put into motion. Each member of the Faterinos played a part, and I could not be prouder. We are coming together, each member of the group supporting the others, our skills combining into a formidable storm that cannot be withstood. With Woodbine minding the rope, and Scratch and Nabayo waiting beneath the movable grate beneath the jail, Donaldino and I were tasked with the riskiest part of the escape. Donaldino, dressed in our captured tunic, escorted a supposedly drunken Thunderhead Gloamingborn into the jail, convincing the guard to take me below to the drunk tank. In the meantime, Donaldino was able to successfully use his bardic skill to charm a scribe named Blort, a high ranking member of the jail. Blort escorted Donaldino down into the cells.

Donaldino spun a tail fit for the proverbial Golden Loom, explaining that his grandfather had been involved in the construction of the prison. Rorhall and the other guard were skeptical, but they allowed Donaldino to wander around the cells under the “supervision” of Blort the Scribe. Meanwhile, Scratch silently stole into the room. I had to punch out a drunk who unfortunately noticed Scratch, resulting in the plan going somewhat haywire.

I am loathe to admit that in the name of the greater good, there do come times when innocents must unfortunately bear the full weight of our actions. I took an innocent man hostage, threatening to slit his throat with my hidden dagger if I was not released from the prison. The guards did not get quite close enough, but I was able to convince the other prisoners that they were going to be executed. With a timely assist from Scratch and his unfeeling crossbow, we were able to convince the guards to drop their weapons and the key. We freed the men, rescued a drugged Isidro, and released a hideous lizard to cover our tracks. I can still remember the sound of the freed prisoners being slaughtered above as we shut the grate and made our way far from the jail, but the world is a harsh place. I have no doubt that Moradin made the survivors of the battle stronger and braver men.

After freeing ourselves from the disgusting sewers, we were able to bring Isidro around a bit. He mentioned that he was addicted to Halfling-Leaf, a vile habit that has claimed better man than that mere boy, and that his task was to infiltrate a group called the Hellions. Before we returned to the Soggy Mind, we encountered a debtor named Crom Basserack, a breeder of animals, who had welshed on his dues to the Builders Guild. Perhaps in an attempt to balance the scales of justice back in favor of brave Thunderhead after the slaughter in the jail, I paid the man’s debt to the guild. He swore that when his next group of pups were ready, we would be given the pick of the litter. I could do with a pet other than Donaldino.

Once we returned to the Soggy Mind, Luvnie was impressed. After some discussion with Isidro, Luvnie mentioned that one among our number had proved his worth and mettle: Scratch the Thief! I must admit, I had thought the deeds of Thunderhead would have garnered more praise, but then again, Luvnie is a sneak and a craven, perhaps he sees some of himself in Scratch, though Scratch be no craven, but a leal and true friend. Still, if Luvnie is a force for good, perhaps there comes a time when even a Dwarf must admit that the axe cannot always conquer the whisper of a lie or the fleet hand or foot.

One thing did disturb us, the one somber note that overshadows all that went before. We were able to overhear Luvnie saying that he had a great task set ahead for Scratch, and that Luvnie would reveal a great threat to the realm when the time was right. This was not what afeared us, but his somber words that Scratch might have to lie to the Faterinos in order to “protect them.” We are not children who need to be coddled with gentle lullabies and promises of a golden sunrise to send away the terror of night. We are warriors and true. If there is a threat, I would never dare face Moradin in the great beyond and tell him I allowed my brother Scratch to go into battle alone, to face a danger meant for all, alone. I say thee nay, this shall not be. Still, now is a moment for celebration. Tomorrow, I shall overcome my test to enter the fighter’s guild. Tonight, we revel, and though I be but a Dwarf and small, I shall revel so that men shall call me, “Titan.”

-Thunderhead Gloamingborn, Soggy Mind Ale House, 57th Day Deidara, F.Y. 609

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A Flibbertribbet Named Manskaganus
ODD PLACES< ODD FACES, MATURITY NAUGHT!

Blangulforb!

The knots in my stomach indicate a Ball of Confusion unheard of in the modern era except when the temptation is 5 and the bees are full of hive? NO! NOT HIVE! DRIVE! CLIVE! Clive, yes, that man is simply no good, you can’t trust him with your chives? I put a batch of uncooked green onions on your turtle wax truffle farmer and wish you good luck with your endeavors both real and imagined. Place the pyramid upside down in the sand and use the centrifugal force of your hand to create a humman rubber band! HAHAHAHAHAH! DO-nald-in-yo-YORG iz str8 killin it today! HAHAHAHA! I love myself almost as much as I hate everyone else!! However, hate is such a loaded word. Loaded like one of your foolish potatoes of cholesterol forces large and flagrant.

I have serious business to discuss. Something that I have never articulated before. Something that trubbles me to the core like an electric razor left to go to seed in the heart of a GLENN FREY! FUCK YOU GLENN FREY!

FUCK YOU DONG HENHLEY! joe walsh, yr cool.

Never leave an unattended child in the realm of a magic bard. I will indeed sell it into sexual slavery.

MY Granpappy was not a stonemason. I am a lyre. HAHAHAHAHAH!
see what I did there!!! I am as proud of my sharp wit as I am ashamed of my own body (It is too whatever, ya know!). I feed on the wealth of lies that I perpetrate within my own realm of cotton candy cocaine comedies and a cornucopia of condensed milk and mickey d parfaits. REMEMBER
I control time in my own mind using some kind of SUBSTANCE? I love to take a sunstance. Stand in front of the sun. Submit to it’s carnal desires. UGGGGGGHHH, I need to get my DINGLEDORF dunked! It is staring to itch and burn in a manner most troubling. When I place my hand on my face, it means the rats are eating my brain! HAHAHAHAHA!

FUCK.

D. Y.

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DM log Session 11

People:
Luvnei
street pickpocket
Brawny
Pikorax
masonic recruiter
Blort
Isidro
Crom Basserack
Places:
Old City Jail
Boar’s Head Building
Soggy Mind Tavern
Items:

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The Failure of Scratch...

I write this page not knowing if anyone will ever be able to read its contents. Not that I don’t believe this journal will see the light of day or enjoy everlasting glory in the halls of the decorated library of Vulcarsgrave. No, I sit in the rear of this much too rugged and lurching tented cart being driven by a mysterious wizard named Luvnei, who just rescued us from all too certain doom. I’ll be lucky if I can place a mark to parchment in this state.
Luck. What a bunch of hippogriff dung. The same luck that had forsaken me when I most needed it. This same curious shaman who is steering us to the unknown, granted us entry in the most exclusive and discreet of guilds, ideal for a cunning rogue as I. He set us on a seemingly effortless task to gauge our worthiness – return to him in 15 minutes with a guard’s tunic. We made haste at once, flashing to a guard post, to which I sneaked in undetected, as the remaining Faterinos distracted the guards outside with Donaldino’s knack for the incredible feat of sword swallowing.
Yet, I failed my brethren. Perhaps my nerves got the best of me, for my skills of sly evasion did not help. I was ultimately discovered. In a rash moment of stupidity, I threw down my newly acquired Thunderstone, not yet ascertaining its total properties at the magical item auction from whence it came. On the positive side, I deafened and stunned my aggressor giving me the chance for escape. On the negative, I also caused myself the same pain, temporarily deaf as a duskhunter basilisk. An explosive roar echoed out into the city streets, alarming all the guards to rush in with the Faterinos in tow. We could not attack the official guards of Vulgarsgrave, for obvious reasons. We fled into the city streets, where the lovely Luvnei magically discovered us and sheltered us in the back of his wagon.
He is giving us one more task to prove ourselves, a new chance at salvation: to break another initiate out of prison. This is obviously more dangerous, perilous, treacherous, and any other death defying qualifier you can envisage. But it is an adventure I shall not acquiesce or abandon. I must prove myself not only to this Luvnei, but to my comrades as well. That I possess what is needed to count myself a Faterino!

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