Beeline for Beluth
The sordid one gets sorted.

Beluth be ready, for the final blessing is upon you. It is like a laying on of hands, but these hands are holding hammer and blade.

Brother Bob and the Ranger are truly blessed! How they suffer and struggle under a razor wire net, I must join them. That Ranger has the mark of Ilmater, he must be one of Ilmater’s favoured to suffer so, and to cause so much suffering to Beluth with those arrows! The Warlock waves his hands about, is he communicating with Beluth? Time to sever communications … and Beluth’s head.

Just as Brother Bob and Ilmater’s Ranger have suffered all they can, the Lorekeeper shows his understanding of Ilmater’s divine providence by reviving them so they may suffer even more! I hope that we may all become so blessed in this battle. The mighty Garrison throws the net aside like a sack of small whippets and joins the battle. Beluth’s blade cuts deep and I am double blessed to be bleeding and fighting alongside the legend Garrison again. Garrison is a legend but Beluth, this is your end.

As the Warlock waves his hands saying something about a whizz, Beluth disappears and reappears, stabbing the Lorekeeper. What a wonderful surprise blessing, like a sweet chocolate filled with broken glass! The battle produces another choc-o-glass as the captive woman walks out of her cell and blesses the Warlock with her scimitar. Ilmater is truly on our side. The mighty Garrison’s blade is soon interposed ‘twixt Beluth’s gut and bladder and the blessing is over. Beluth may have had some tricks up his sleeve, but this was his final performance and it was a tough crowd.

Found on the shores of

Abolith. A damnable abolith. Consumers of minds, stealers of flesh, twisters of nature, one of these children of the insanity of the void has burrowed into the bowls of Vesk. These stinking endless warrens of filth have a parasite that threatens the body of the city by turning the citizenry into weapons.

These scribbles come during a brief moment of respite between the enraged battles with the forgotten and lost who are now the inscrutable horror’s arms, legs and eyes. Blueth the master criminal has now fallen to me and my new companions. His depravity justly would have caused me to confront him. A malevolent smile graces my face at the thought of the torturing knowledge he had as the abolith drove him from himself.

Now we, this motley party, most of whom I barely know, go to face our doom or our fortune. I set these words into this bottle in the hopes that you the finder will alert the city’s guardians of the cancer growing beneath them. If I am not returned to surface with my mind intact be warned I will be nothing more than a beast of rage and you must destroy what remains of me.

Dr. Arcana

The Sewers - Captain's Log.

So, this is the Palace of Fortuity eh? I detest these fancy gambling places, where their opulence is paid for by those who lose rather than those who win. These places make wretches of people and then exploit them. After I find Beluth, I must wreak divine vengeance upon this place. I will deal out some damage – and the dealer always wins.

Hey! Somebody went through that wall! These gamblers should let Arcana through, he is a Doctor after all. Oh no, that rhymes – I must self flagellate tonight. I don’t like these secret doors. Shall I knock? There is no knocker so I had better use my hammer. I knock thrice and the door opens. It’s good that manners cost nothing, because that door might need replacing.

Who are these people? There is a rogue, he has the look of the night about him. He is looking at my purse. And a cleric of … Oghma? I can tell by the spacing of his eyes and the slope of his brow that he too is unusual. And that … is that … no, it can’t be. Can it? Is that really the legend, the man who’ll fight anything – Garrison? I must show my worth. I don’t think any of these is Beluth. Hey Arcana, is any of these Beluth?

They say they want to rescue a princess. Why do they need to rescue a princess? The nobility only need rescue from themselves. Must find Beluth. Not here. Not there. Why is Brother Bob staying behind to check under the table? Down the stairs we go, where they go, no-one knows! Oh, we are in a sewer. Time to flush out some evil.

Hey Arcana, which way should we go? I’m glad these walkways are here, this filth is beneath us.

Hey Arcana, wake up, we got some crocodiles coming for us! Stay to the path all of you! I am The Shield! Time to get down and dirty.

Ouch, these creatures don’t let go too easy but ‘tis better that I take the suffering for the others. Dr Arcana’s frost spell is just in time. Now these crocodiles are skating on thin ice.

I see the sly dagger of Bob fell a creature and the mighty Garrison swings his righteous blade, I am doubly blessed to be witness to this and to take their suffering! There are still a lot of these creatures. The High City is like a gated community, so I suppose it makes sense that the sewers are a gatored community.

Bob, Greim and Garrison fell more of them while the Doctor scatters the remaining creatures. We cut the final one down. What a croc.

Oh useless Paladin, wherefore art thou?

A few days past, I’m in my cell, I’ve been feeling all is well , I’m laying back upon some benches, Perusing copy of ‘Busty Wenches’, When suddenly, knock comes on my door, Disturbs my reading on a whore, Called Tulula Tulip, she’s quite randy, The knock disturbs my one hand shandy.

Quite annoyed by interruption, Just as I was near eruption, A letter is pushed under door, And slides across the dusty floor, I pull up robes and pick up note, And tie the string around my coat.

The note states that there’s been some grief, I go to straight to the ‘Dragons Teeth’, There I meet with Garrison, And tell him about the deed been done, Next we go to Pipers Fiddle, Where Thorsson is right in the middle, Of what appears to be a troupe of benders, Although I think because of their genders, That they are called contortionists, We’d stumbled on the warlocks tryst, His secret bendy life exposed, None of us would have supposed.

Anyway I do digress, We must find Bob, I profess, We randomly find Bob in Vesk, Sitting at a wooden desk, Dressed up in Bakers attire, Arguing with a town crier.

We tell Bob about the letter, And we decide it would be better, If we all went to the church, Of Bahamut, to continue search. But guards won’t let us through, A negotiation doth ensue, The parlay it goes to and fro, Garrison decides to go, And see his friend Lieutenant Oddvar, His drinking friend from many a bar, The upper city we could venture, For one week we all could enter.

We all go to Bahamut’s church, To begin important research, To find out what has happened there, We find the Archdeacon in a chair, ‘Good day’ Archdeacon Armas speaks, We find out what’s happened this week.

Crayack’s been kidnapped again, This time by some assassins, I wonder if he’s worth the trouble, But this makes the story double, We work out it could be were-rats, Lycanthropes! We need were-cats.

The poem of Father Greim, Day 2

Once we all felt right as rain, We continued on our way again, We stumbled in upon a witch, With guards talking in high pitch, And burly man with chiseled chin, Who turned out to be a paladin.

This motley group they did attack, Garrison cried “I got your back!”, I scared the witch with spell of fear, But I had no cause to cheer, Away she did not really run, But we’d only just begun.

The holy warrior of light, He did join in the fight, On the wrong side, With the witch, She was controlling him, the bitch! Yes, we all were much surprised, The Paladin was hypnotized.

He broke out of the evil spell, Then he really gave ‘em hell, They foes were slain, their spells negated, The paladin he was elated, Reluctantly we took him with, Simon put away his shiv, If he became tool in the cog, We’d feed him to the Otyugh.

Continuing on down corridor, We discovered beggars, more and more, Simon used spell of the day, A thousand beggars he did slay, Garrison refused to fight, He said it wasn’t worth his might.

The beggars they all were dispatched, Then we all climbed through a hatch, Into a room with darkened ceiling, All of us, we had a feeling, That this room, it wasn’t right, And we all prepared to fight, Simon climbed into the rafter, Garrison burst into laughter, As Simon fell out of the sky, An arrow sticking out his eye, He hit his head upon a bed, And with that the thief was dead.

The Paladin rushed into the room, But he had run a bit too soon, He fell head first into a pit, We were really in the shit, We fought the thieves hid in the roof, We hit them hard with nail and tooth, A little girl jumped down a hole, All the fighting had taken toll.

We rested up and set a goal, We needed to go down the hole, After time we all climbed down, There was a sight that made us frown, Shots were fired from Hobgoblin bow, The battle it went to and fro, Our fighting style was best until a, Hobgoblin released a giant gorilla, We need to kill these foes quite fast, Thorsson shouted “Eldritch Blast!”, I stumbled and fell of a ledge, Between some cages on the edge, Of a dock by waters cape, From here we all dispatched the ape.

The captivity seemed to have taken toll, The cages housed some hapless souls, A baroness with maids in waiting, An ancient sage, whose health was fleeting, His apprentice and a some beggars two, And priest survived the hullabaloo,

The priest his name was Brother Bob, Thorsson said he could do the job, And fill in for our Simon (dead), But he was no priest, don’t be mislead.

Next we found a wizard charred, And a wall that had been barred, We killed a daunting shadow fell, And returned it to its evil well,

We also fought hobgoblins three, We dispatched these foes with glee, We took down a warlord with some scorn, The warlord he was dragonborn,

Then surprise, we have a fight, Turning into quite a night, A wizard and hobgoblins more, But we crushed them to the floor,

We found a chest that seemed quite empty, But Thorsson thought there was more to see, We crushed the base out of the chest, And we were all impressed, To find a massive emerald, Big and shiny to behold, But the thing most impressed to me, Was an expensive tapestry.

We found a rat god’s statue old, More of the story did unfold, We opened door to see the king, Of Beggars doing evil thing, His body desiccated dried up corpse, His brain by evil had been warped.

We slew the evil looking man, But something else it had begun, The walls they started to fall, We all listened to Garrison’s call, “Run! Right now!!!” the fighter blares, We all scarper up the stairs. We all make it up to the roof, Shouting words, most uncouth, We can’t believe our great escape, When suddenly and Umber Drake, Attacks without a warning cry, Downwards it begins to fly, A mighty battle doth ensue, We all take a wound or two, Till eventually it drops, And our adrenaline it stops.

We solemnly returned to the town, Were we could all settle down, Our time and money was invested, Our bodies needed to be rested, We went into the nearest Inn, Where I drank a load of Gin, This is where our story ends, Of how I made a few new friends.

The poem of Father Greim, Day 1

My tale begins whilst sitting down, With Garrison a fighter (brown), A burly man, with balding head, Many things he had made dead, Many beers this fighter quaffed.

His shiny brown head held aloft, Regaling me with stories old, Of adventures he thought needed told, When suddenly burst through the door, A well dressed man hard to ignore, Following him by his knees, Was a Halfling (Possibly with fleas).

A strange sight in “The Dragons Teeth”, To see a warlock and a thief, Running from an angry mob, Offering Garrison a job, “Protect us please!” the warlock shouted, The nearest thug, Garrison clouted.

Then there was a great furor, The thugs were dropped, there was one more, The last thug ran towards the door, When suddenly he hit the floor, A knife wound appeared in his chest, Made by a man in chainmail vest, The man called Kant entered the Inn, With burly thug, (And the thugs twin),

He told the Warlock (called Thorsson), And the Thief named Simon, That they should go back to the guild, There was a job to be filled, And so we went and truth be told, I didn’t know that I’d enrolled!

Then we met with a short man, A dwarf named Blackforge with a plan, Beggars had overstepped the mark, By stealing things after dark, “Put this to a stop” he told, And so the story did unfold.

We garnered info from the streets, A subtle mix of talk and beats, Till eventually we found some facts, Beggar Kings, demonic pacts.

We made our way to an iron gate, The hour now was pretty late, Through rusted bars atopped with spikes, We’re attack by men with pikes, We finished off these worthy foes, And then rummaged through their clothes.

Through a door we ventured on, To try a very daring con, Of selling our ill gotten gains, To a man with enough brains, To smell that it was indeed a trap, Another fight then, Ohgma’s crap! My legs were grabbed, I dropped a log! The grabber was an Otyugh!

I managed to escape it’s hold, The others could not be controlled, We’d captured one called Arthuro, Who told us where we had to go, To get some gold hidden in a wall, But he was a fool, He screamed and cursed and stared agog, As we fed him to the Otyugh.

Stairs were set into one section, Of this tenement erection, Stealthy plans the thief employs, But sets off traps, makes lots of noise, Alerts the guards who shoot their bows, Another fight, that’s how it goes.

The Dog boys, they were nasty mercs, We killed them all, the stupid jerks, Garrison finds a real nice sword, Once their bodies where explored. Once all our foes were bested, We set up camp that night and rested.


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