I was explicitly promised a Dark Sun

Bard's Log 8

A prostitute knows more about the wilderness than I do

Well, we saw Tyr in the distance and it did wonders to improve our spirits. My songs, being the epitome of beauty and creativity, have gotten a bit stale as of late and I was looking forward to inspiration. I was getting tired of trying to rhyme wasteland, misery and other such words. Unfortunately it turns out the Tyr is under siege which was a bit of a surprise. Made even more confusing by finding out that both Urik and Raam were apparently allied for this endeavor which did not bode well for us. I hold on to the thin hope that we are somehow not responsible for this, and this whole thing is just a strange coincidence. That’s actually pretty funny but not very useful as it would have to be explained and those jokes almost always fall flat. I did recall rumors of a disused path snaking its way behind the mountains of Tyr which would gain us entrance without having to explain to the armies why we were just passing through.

Of course here I learn our doppelganger prostitute is also a wilderness expert as she shows us the way. Looking back we probably could have found it ourselves, eventually. Even the arduous act of forcing our cart along a narrow path surrounded by scrub brush and unsteady terrain was clearly not difficult enough for fate, as we found ourselves confronted by a regrettably familiar face.

It began with a dark red portal opening up alongside the road, which as far as things go was a bad sign. Out came a group of slaves led by none other than our old friend, the summoning arcanist from before. I really need to figure out his name the next time we meet, I’m tired of referring to him only as “the summoning mage” or “that asshole.” He clearly remembered us as his first act was to order his slaves to attack. We attempted to sway them to our side by promising them freedom and cheese but the mage countered by incinerating one of them, which I admit is a fairly persuasive argument. The slaves attacked and we did what we do best, make things stop breathing. As usual the mage ran when things started to go poorly for his side, Strug threw a slave after him and, in a moment of brilliance, Strug and I manhandled the vat out of the cart and threw the last of the acid in after him. We completed our fight with a swift and masculine high five while the portal closed with an audible pop.

After a few more hours of travel we found ourselves at a cavern mouth too small for the buggolo to follow. We unloaded the cart and said goodbye to our quiet companion. I do hope we see him again. As soon as we entered we were assaulted by a smell which is almost indescribable. These caves act as the sewers of the city and it smelt like the populace has been having bowel issues. I could almost taste the stench on my tongue and it immediately caused my eyes to water. I knew that I had to put on a brave face for the troops so I calmly strode forward and hoped they wouldn’t notice my attempts at quelling my gag reflex. Uzemaya heard voices behind the first door, speaking a mixture of dwarven and gibberish tinged with a sort of strange infantile dialect. It was fairly easy to mimic and figuring nothing living here would be pleasant company convinced them to open the door. This poor individual was greeted by a salvo of fists and blades. What followed was combat as usual, a lot of weapon swinging, swearing and seeing Cha’ka nearly killed. Most of these strange and stunted creatures wielded weapons but others attacked with bolts of electricity shoving us around and knocking us down. I was actually thinking of an appropriate song to sing as a eulogy at Cha’ka’s funeral as she was leaking alarming amounts of ichor, which I assumed was bad. With a bit of bandaging and some encouraging words she was back on her feet but looking worse for wear. I can only hope we find the exit soon, I don’t think she can take another fight like that.

Find an exit we did, as well as evidence that the thieves guild is alive and well in Tyr as the doors leading out were covered in their cant. We picked one which sounded the safest and had the least amount of blood coming from it and found ourselves in an abandoned house. Here we took a break and I set out to find a buyer for the goods, which it turns out is harder than it really should be. With little in the way of results we headed back and found the unoccupied house brimming with people and noticed our companions were absent. It turns out the thieves guild likes to party occasionally and told us where our friends had gone. They also said they would give us a better deal than the merchant but frankly I don’t trust them, at all, ever. I mean their thieves, they steal things, which might include our things, and they want us to enter a business agreement with them. I rejected them in an offensive way and some threats were insinuated on their behalf, mainly by using my real name which is something I tend to keep to myself. If they become more of a nuisance things might get ugly, though I’d like to think that these past few months have made me a force to be reckoned with. Sigh, we reached our goal only to find it surrounded by enemies and nuisances.


Sorcer-King say: A nuisance is only a nuisance when you allow it to be.

Average commoner respond: Well that’s easy to say if you wield magery and psionics, and live in a gilded palace, and oh no, please dont hurt me, I’ll stop heckling I swear

Bard's Log 8

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