|Once, Twice, Three Times an Icky, Nasty, Monster Thing|
Our first major conflict in this benighted city was not entirely what I had expected. It was rather more painful.|
It seems that Anwar, Philippe, Arilyn, Serianna, and William went out while I was asleep. I hadn't meant to slumber so early, but figuring out the secrets of magical gear is always tedious, tiring work, and I'd been at it most of the afternoon. Later in the evening, I was awakened by a scream. The look in Nyran's eyes as I came to consciousness told me it was not some remnant from my dreams, so I grabbed my blade and out we went, followed closely by Elana.
Nyran managed to find some odd tracks in the rain and muck of the streets, while I was still wiping the grogginess out of my eyes. We managed to follow them to an alley, and what did we find, but a werewolf feasting on some poor soul who was already dead by the time we found...um, it. Naturally, we took it upon ourselves to relieve the lycanthrope of its kill and its life. Also naturally, the thing decided it wanted to latch itself to my person, and bear me to the ground, surely infecting me in the process.
Once we'd finished the thing off, we found that we had killed Kellevarus, the Garanlyon agent who'd been imprisoned. It was a pity we had to kill him, but it was surely either him or us. And it may be me, in a week or so. I don't relish the thought of being covered in hair, wandering around urinating on the sides of buildings, and howling at the moon. I suppose I can add it my list of prior ailments: becoming a blithering moron--twice, mummy rot--twice, now lycanthropy. I begin to think that I am a dumping ground for diseases.
Then our luck got bad in earnest.
A truly monstrous werewolf leapt down on us, and the only thing that kept me from being turned into a dog's dinner was the arrival of our wayward companions. As it was, the thing proceeded to shred most of our party to tatters, including myself. I didn't even have the time to get a swing at the creature before it picked me up and treated me very much like a dog worrying at a shoe or some rodent it's caught. I must have slipped from consciousness briefly because the next thing I remember was lying on my back several feet away from the creature, with someone standing over me. I didn't bother with who or where or what, only big shaggy eating machine battling with two of Nyran's..."summonings". There was no time to pick myself up out of the mud, so I didn't; instead, I pelted the thing with a good dose of lightning. And again, putting that pearl to good use right away. After those, and some more general beating from the...creatures, it decided it had had enough and made to escape through the rubble of the buildings behind it. I don't think any of us were about to let it get away, and I certainly wasn't about to watch it walk away, so I picked myself up and moved up to where Anwar had stopped to give herself a shot at the beast. I leaned around her and put two rays into its back...most satisfying, I must say.
When Nyran saw the human remains of the werewolf, he was rather surprised. Apparently he had been the secretary to the Pontifex. He must have been blind indeed not to have noticed some sorts of strange goings-on with his aide. In any event, who should show up at that moment but the Pontifex himself, kept company by some two battalions of his holy troops. He was a hard man, and a stern, but at least he seemed to see some sense when it was showed him, which is more than I can say about the last claimant of a Sun Blade that I'd met. It WAS rather an odd feeling, I must admit, to see someone else holding a blade like mine. In spite of myself, I had the urge to look down and make sure my blade was still in my hand, even though I could feel its weight, and could see its light mingling with the blade in the Pontifex's hand.
As we were on our way back to the temple to discuss matters, not to mention get both myself and Elana out of general view, we noticed people running through the intersection up ahead. When we finally reached it, we saw another running right at us, only to drop practically at our feet, and cough up water, as though he'd just drowned. Nyran flew ahead to investigate, but slowly appeared to us our third grisly sight of the evening: zombie-like creatures shambling up the way, filling the lungs of those who ended up too near them to fill with water.
The Pontifex, being for once entirely foolish, sent his troops charging after the zombie-things, beseeching of us our aid as well. The charge was a complete debacle, for as the men closed, they too felt themselves drowning, and the aged man was forced to pull his man back to a defensive position, while Nyran held the things at bay with a wall of flame.
It seems our work is never done.
|Associated Regions: New Sellador Port|
|From the journal of Islan Diemyn|
Contributor: Chris Schuettpelz