Sherman's Journal
Entry 1 Ah Liminal, the city between worlds. So many sights and sounds...and smells. Oh the smells can be terrible. I've taken to carrying around a small handkerchief I frequently apply an aromatic spice mixture I've devised to for when I'm roaming the streets. I just spent my last coin on this journal so that I can keep a record of my new life here in this amazing city. First thing on my agenda; find work and somewhere warm and dry to sleep. I've done the gutter thing, I don't recommend it.
Entry 2 My first night in Liminal, I found work at an inn called the Rose & Thorn. I didn't have two coppers to rub together, so I spent the evening busing tables and mopping floors, but was rewarded with a pitcher of beer nearly a quarter my height and a warm place to sleep near the hearth. The beer was a balm to sooth my weary mind as I'd run out of my laudanum supply days earlier. And while it was no feathery bed, the warm pallet was bliss manifest compared to camping in the wilderness. It was also the night I met my current companions. I didn't pay much attention to them at first, save the loud drunken dwarf who chose to put himself well within my comfort zone. Dwarves. They know absolutely nothing of personal space, but I guess that would be the result of living underground. The kobold clan I briefly stayed with slept in heaps upon each other like a hunter's hounds. Atrocious. Otherwise I just noted them as random mercenaries, best to be avoided in case they were the sort of adventurers that liked to collect kobold ears. That night as the inn slumbered there was a disturbance. The inn had fallen under attack by creatures called felltaints, strange entities hailing from the realms of chaos beyond the material world. They had already quietly killed a number of patrons in the inn before we were alerted to the danger. Very quickly, myself and those aforementioned mercenaries assembled and began working wordlessly as a team. It was...rather marvelous actually. I didn't even know their names, but we were working together almost flawlessly. We took care of the felltaints in the area, rescued a damsel, witnessed some shady sort run past us and descended down into the cellars of the establishment as we tracked the incursion to its source. We found the innkeeper below and then went down an old well to find a portal where the creatures were invading from. We dealt with the menace from beyond creation and destroyed the portal. We were rewarded with room and board at the Rose & Thorn. Quite nice of them, but then I guess we did save their lives and livelihood. Before my new companions and I had a chance to drift away to wherever our fates would have taken us, a new job was presented to us by the merchants guilds. We were bound together once again, this time by a contract of financial gain rather than an immediate threat. It would seem, we would all be working together for a while. My mother always told me that adventurers work best in groups, they are stronger and more varied and thus able to tackle a greater diversity of problems and they can watch each others backs. You can accomplish greater goals in a group and thus reap greater rewards. And through mutual back scratching, you can aid each other in taking care of your personal goals. What is good for one, is good for all. Whether or not THIS is the group for me is yet to be seen. But it's the group I'm in for now. Minus the dwarf, he left - called away to pursue a mission from his god or something. For now, the guild has an outpost that's gone silent and they're paying us handsomely to investigate.
Entry 3 I've not written since before we left. That's because this trip has been a nightmare of discomfort. I hate horses. Or ponies or mules or whatever this foul smelling creature made of uncomfortable lumps and hateful fur that gets wedged in between my scales. The barbarian is always drunk and snores. The devil-man and angel-man can't seem to keep their eyes off of each other, I'm not sure if they're (not so) secretly lusting after each other or plotting to murder each other in their sleep. My tincture of laudanum laced absinthe with just a hint of ginger & cinnamon is ready now. It will help me get some sleep.
Entry 4 Well stick me in the spleen with a plus one sword. Kobolds? Really? Gods I hate my relatives. Stupid inbred idiots. And apparently these have pack of wolves they've somehow tamed. I'm not looking forward to the rest of this mission. We rescued some humans that were being attacked and Lloyrian left to escort them to safety and then catch back up to us. Silvestre somehow won one of the wolves over and it's been following him around like a puppy since. A very hungry and ferocious puppy that could rend a kobold in half. So much for every sleeping again on this trip.
Entry 5 I'm back on my pony, which I have named Despair. We are headed exceedingly too close to Tamous, the lands where I grew up, making our way to the Delannwood so that Silvestre can turn in the wolf bitch's head to his people for a bounty. Since my last entry, we found the merchant outpost, which had been infested with kobolds and wolves. Like good little adventurers, we hacked our way through them and invaded the small dwarven stronghold. I must say, laying waste to hordes of kobolds is rather fulfilling. I see why so many adventurers seem to get some sort of high off of it. I'm glad I'm only one kobold and look less like my kin, this increases my chances of not winding up on the end of some random adventurers greatsword. We rescued a blacksmith with a thing for belting out ballads mid-fight and took the battle upstairs. More kobolds fell before us and we faced off with the leader of the wolves, a shifter woman, who apparently ate Silvestre's family. I think that's what he said. Either way, he had major cow meat with her and so we chopped her up and he took her head as a trophy to present to his people. Oh, and there was a tiny red dragon that the kobolds had been worshiping. We quickly made it dead. It's corpse is now strapped upon the horse behind me so that we can sell it back in Liminal. Haha kobolds. We killed your god and now we're going to sell it's cadaver so that others can make tacky jewelry and potions out of it. The "high priest" of the dragon managed to escape. I'm sure that will eventually come back around to bite us.
Entry 6 Lloyrian is weird. He's hacking bits of the dragon corpse off, choosing to take his cut early in claws. He agreed that he would accept the claws as his cut, which comes close enough to his share of the whole for me, so I'm amenable to this agreement. Some of the others, particularly Grok are really upset over this though. Lloyrian is taking off to rendezvous with some elves elsewhere which we visit Silvesre's tribe and will catch back up on our return trip to Liminal. The tiefling and deva continue to smolder (romantically?) at each other. I'm inspired to write some slash fiction involving them. Aye, they just moved off together to whisper. I'm tired and going back to sleep.
Entry 7 Shifter's can't cook it would seem. Well, they can cook, but I refuse to call the results food. And no matter how much spice I bury my meal under, it remains barely edible. Their mead is quite tasty, though.
Entry 8 So, the cannibal wolf woman - she had an alien squid monster inside her head. They gave the cadaver of the thing to Silvestre to carry to Liminal for sages to study, but I got a chance to prod at it and take some notes as well as a few samples of it and the brain-squid spackle it used to patch up the hole in the skull, obviously it's point of entry. Intriguing! Silvestre was given honors and a boy-toy to shag and a tattoo. Interesting people these shifters.
Entry 9 Despair. Again we suffer each others company. Oh, and the elf is back. I'm not quite sure when that happened. I just looked up at some point and he was there. It's kinda creepy how quiet he can be. Grok keeps glaring at him, which makes me nervous. Don't orcs eat elves?
Entry 10 We have returned to Liminal. Despair and I parted company, hopefully never to meet again. I'm back in my comfy bed at the Rose & Thorn. My night cap tincture is brewing and the room smells of bittersweet opiates, wormwood, rosewater and sugar - with just a pinch of sassafras root. We met with the guild regarding our successful mission and were showered in thanks for our deeds, given a very lovely coin reward and some magical odds & ends. It was a good day. Yesterday a few of us took the dragon corpse and met with some potential buyers. They seemed a bit sinister, but...well, okay - they WERE clearly sinister and downright evil and are probably going to use the dead dragon in dark rituals to kill babies and kick puppies, but they offered us more than the corpse was worth, so our cold, greedy mercenary souls took precedence over any conscience whining and we took the money and ran. I'm sure we'll be hired to stop them in a couple of months anyway and have to fight an undead dragonling (with no claws, hahaha) as a result of our actions. ...and get paid for it. Again. Hm. Let me get my abacus back out.
