Well, I made a few mistakes in the past few weeks, grievous mistakes that will haunt me until I find enough mind altering substances to forget. I forget about my fans. I know, it seems to happen to a lot of musicians but I had always tried to give the audience what they wanted. Instead I made a selfish decision and embarked on a solo project. It seemed like a good idea at the time but it was merely a sign of my own hubris. Oh well, back on to current events.
We made our way over to the garden area where we would hopefully meet lord Davick, sell the residuum and become fabulously wealthy. The only thing in our way was a group of templars. Unfortunately, being a bit unfamiliar with Tyr it took a bit of very clumsy bribery to make our way past them. Moving through the templar district at a swift pace we found ourselves at the garden and quickly realized we were woefully under dressed, being covered in a thin layer of dust, blood, sewage and who knows what else. We were frisked for weapons and magic at the entrance but I managed to keep both my crown and my full blade through a bit of legendary legerdemain and convincing lying. We talked to lord Davick who turned out to be a bit of a bastard, who directed us to the captain of the guard who turned out to be worthless. Neither having the means to turn our residuum into coin. We were told that the ziggurat dominating the center of the city might have the rituals we need, though none who have entered have returned, though to stay positive it might be because they found the best party ever inside and never wanted to leave. Or the far, far, far more likely scenario of them meeting an untimely and gruesome, defiling fueled, end. Being a bit frustrated at the lack of progress I filled my pockets with hor’dourves and we made our way back to the inn.
The thieves guild decided to stop by and tell us of the mistakes we were making and that the residuum would be put to better use in their hands. At this point I’m negating them out of sheer spite, if for only their thinly veiled threats that seem to permeate the conversations we have with them. I think they don’t realize just how many things we’ve killed to get here and that their deaths would somehow weigh on my conscience. I suppose only time will tell how this gets resolved.
We met the captain of the guard again the next day at the base of the ziggurat and after a bit of small talk we made our way into the structure. The first floor turned out to be a heavily trapped maze and this is where I made my second grievous error of the week. In my exuberance I thought igniting some of the greased walls would make them less treachorous. Had I thought this plan through I probably would have stopped myself with a quick punch to the throat. The grease ignited filling the area with smoke and making us hurry. This was a situation I couldn’t talk my way out of and nearly died several times, each time saved by one of my comrades, which made my earlier selfish decisions that much more embarrassing.
We did manage to make it through the maze though, with my own life considerably shortened by the layer of soot coating my lungs, and found ourselves in an arena-like area, populated with groups of stone statues. We decided to attack the elf and eladrin group as our previous encounters with these folks had given us a sour taste in our mouth. Predictably they became animate and what followed will be described in several different ways. When I write the song of our adventures which will bring me the fame I deserve I will describe this as an epic battle in which we crushed our foes in a glorious display of combat prowess. What actually happened was a long and drawn out conflict in which each side was vying against the other only in sheer incompetence. Not our proudest moment to say the least. We did win, eventually, and sitting in the settled dust I pen out our adventures thus far. More to come.