So's I hung back for a day. I had plenty of their guff, and 'cept for the fact that their magic is real, ida gone another way. But them star stones, well they're a sight to see. And supposedly ther'ins more of em – 7 or 8 – so I had to catch up tonight.
Them magisters, well they're a houghty up 'n up full of themselves, but they keep me from hav'n to take the wurst of it. One poor fool called John the Rotund is a volunteer, but two others are charmies: a goblin – Tub (like a container of butter, definitely mush between then pointy green ears), and new to me one of the dwarve's dark kin goin' by the strangest name yet – Bob.
So's I find 'em hunkered down in some ole kitchen, complainin' agin bout how they runt outta spells and jokin' about ground poundin' and some other sort a poundin'. Seems they found an ole bunkroom within a few skels. Spindly things all dried up. So I rouse the group up and head for the door. Can't believe the cowardice. Pull out a couple iron bits holdin' another door to th' north and lead the way in.
Sure enough, them mages got nothin' but hidin' in the back. So's I say just chuck stuff that burns at 'em and I go to work tryin' out this new axe with a purty sharp edge and seein' about getting the timing down with my bastage sword. A couple misses on my part and I get whomped once, heh – jest a tickle. John and me toe the line with Bob an' Tub. One o' the mages throws all his oil at a pair, crisps one and lights the other (they wuz nothin but walkin' tindling wood). John takes one skel, Bob gets a shot in an' I finish 'em off. Okay room – one of the rooms long gone inhabitants (one of the skels?) left a nice silver chain an' locket with an inscription (May Balus bless you my dearest brother) an' a picture of some scrawny human lass (them humans yre so naked an' hopeless without a good dwarven beard).
Nothin' more there, we head on into one of the best rooms yet. All around, lookin' like painted murals, is a good view of the trees outside the dungeon's entrance – 'cept there's Satyrs and Satyresses (that's what the mages called 'em) including one guy that must be the group's elder or some sorta God. Centered in the room is a carven crystal skylight looking like a sun and shinin' down on a pedestal. I gets an idea and grabs our star stone, puts in on the pedestal and everything gets all shimmery. Boy'o that light was nice an warm 'n comfy. I look over at the elder sat' and give him a thanks an' a wave, and sure 'nuf, I'm pretty sure he winked at me outta the picture.
Now the mage, the real snotty one called Conner, gets in his head to check a hunch and pulls out a dagger. Gettin' his meanin' I offer to give Bob a Dwarven head butt'n greetin', but noooo, Connert "asks" Bob to cut himself, an' only a tiny bit. Bob does (lapdog) and heals up in that light. So'kay we're off again.
Round a corner we come to another room, fight over door openin' procedures (yes human sized doors might allow for higher shootin' traps, but if ye were to trap a door, it'd be dumb not to take the trespasser in the low center). Anywho, we go in to a little bedroom with a wardrobe and chest. I open the wardrobe first – lookin for a secret back or floor – and sure enough, one of the ROBES attacks me. Nice of them to tell me about this thing after it's almost got me. I shrug it off, cut it in half, and go help with the chest (who ever heard of a linen golem?). A key under the matress unlocks the chest and I open it. We find a silver statuette, some gold, and, paydirt, the next starstone. Purty.
Yay – time to celebrate. Into the next room to fight some more skels. Again I lead (you know why right – dwarves would rather be in front than starin' at a human ass). John fights valiantly (yes I'm exaggerating, but he was half dead to start carrying all that weight of his) but not successfully – down he goes – after a good shot on a first skel he'd drawn too much attention. So – more practice time for me next time! A lot of smart mouthin' from one mage, and Bob and I finish off the last three skels. I've taken another shot, but I wrap it up. Turns out we're in some kinda library. Egbert, in a characteristic fit of passion, looks at his torchbearer who is lamenting the loss of his friend, and says "Don't worry there's more where he came from." Poor dudes – yes, he does not care about you.
So we find a hidden panel with a scroll of protection from magic 10' in the skel's library, and an attached laboratory with a potion bottle – looks like healin'. That first one was good after the first fight. Since I'm up front, the "meat shield" gets first dibs on the best drinks, an' well it help'd remove a big ole skel splinter.
We're about to camp out an I suggest we head back for some more sun rays (healed me up). The pillows look a bit used, but despite the jokes about stains, this is a pretty cool room. I like this Satyr dude. He's a better companion than the arrogant mules I've got for a party. At least they're sincere.
From the journal of Sandy, dwarven bucketeer and noble buckethead.