Keep Reading, Thief...

Session 2 Summary

Not every day is full of glorious battle where a warrior can test his strength. This is a sad truth. I have learned more about this land, however, Rocca. If you are still reading this, thief, you are very skilled to evade me this long. But very unambitious. Why are you not out doing further thieving? Very lazy. With your skill, you should not waste time reading my journals.

The old man Valdemar kicked me out of his home. He said I was too loud. Apparently he values only silence and drugs. Foolish, weak old man. I would have grown too soft in such opulence. It is no great loss.

I went on a boar hunt with some fop of a nobleman. The boar was a weak foe, and I slew it with a mighty thrust of a boar spear towards its most vital of parts. We ate its meat, prepared in a most excessively flavorful manner. Though it was well earned, such easy victories and such excessive celebration could also make me soft. I must fight larger, less tasty animals in the future.

I then went back and forth gathering people and delivering messages to my comrades. This was tedious, and I missed anything of note. There was a raving old man from Tian, and a lone goblin which ate a man's face. Both of these could have been interesting - Tian is the birthplace of monastic training, and slaying goblins is amusing. The others dealt with the raving old man, and with but one foe, the pale dandy of improbable strength Vehran killed it without my aid.

I believe Ash is frightened by effigies of dragons. I am only afraid of actual dragons. Effigies have no power to slay me. I do not think this fear will make her a liability in battle, unless our foes are cunning and wear masks of the dragon. I would simply stab through the dragon mask, into the non dragon face beneath it.

There was some other elf, this one entirely an elf. She works for some unofficial colony of Sandpoint, outer lands still in dispute thus not officially a part of their dominion. She was a friend of the half elf. It is comforting to know Sandpoint is an expansionist power, I had thought their leaders entirely without ambition.

I wonder if the half fish woman Coral has friends who are entirely fish? She has friends who are entirely human, after all. I do not know why she left a place where there are others like her, where her tail is not a horrible liability, if she can breathe freely underwater. Perhaps she is using the land as a means of strenuous training, to become even more powerful under the water. I doubt she has such discipline, however.

Session 4 Summary
I write from some hideous chamber beneath a goblin stronghold. The pages are smeared with blood, and I believe that most of it is mine.

We completed the work of exploring the tunnels beneath the glass factory.

There was a room shaped like a sphere where things floated, rather than falling as is normal. I am losing touch with what I thought was rational. I have always known magic and training can achieve extraordinary things, but to see such basics things as the rule of things falling flaunted, in front of my very eyes, makes the theory come to life in a way I was not fully prepared for.

Some demon others called a "Kwa-ze-it" was performing a blood ritual, summoning other creatures. It was in league with the same conspirators who organized the goblins. These things are not of this world. They resistant to blades and bows like nothing else I have seen. I am told blades made out of certain materials can cut them as easily as they can a man. Are we then to carry a blade forged of every rock and stone known to man? I am not against this solution. I will simply need more blades.

After that we journeyed the this briar place, where the goblins cleverly placed their fortress beyond a dangerous maze of sharp thorny bushes where only one of their height could fit without stooping. Part of me still insists that fighting from horseback is the right way for a warrior to do battle, but I see there are many scenarios than render it impractical.

Oddly enough, the goblins had a well-trained warhorse they drug through those briars and imprisoned in a small room within their inefficient lair - too many pointless hallways, dead end rooms. That, and a locked treasure chest, are items I must not forget on our way out. If we make it out.

Some sorcerer woman was working in a concealed chamber, at what, I do not care. Robbed of their hands and breath, most spell casters are useless. She proved no exception. Some of the others insisted we show her mercy. It is not difficult to cause some in a proper choke hold to go to sleep, and not die, so I did so. If we see her again, however, she may not have such good fortune twice. She is clearly in league with the goblins, or rents a room from them. Either makes her no friend of mine.

In this underground chamber I write from, we fought what the others called "Yeth Hounds." Like the things the other demon summoned, they were far too resilient, their seemingly thing hides turning away solid stab wounds, and their injuries knitting together at a speed which defies reason. Just as things floating in a circular room defy reason.

Clearly, this is not a place ruled by reason, and I believe the places we journey will only become more rife with chaos and madness. Where reason fails, I will have to rely on instinct. I trust my instincts. And I trust my allies, as well. It would seem they have finished their rest. Perhaps where my training failed to prepare me mentally for such horrors, theirs will not. Yet, if this is the case, why is it some of the most able-minded among us have ran from battle, filled with unreasoning fear?

I will trust my instincts. If I am to die, it will be as a lived - only no longer breathing or taking any meaningful action.

Session 6 summary

Do these stories amuse you, thief? Or do they fill you with terror, knowing you have robbed a man who was killed so many strange and mighty things? We were successful in destroying the remaining goblin resistance, Rocca. Nualia was clearly stronger than the goblin king himself, he was a mere figurehead working under her will. His men fell, one pierced by a mighty thrust of my lance from the back of my new steed and companion, Shadowmist. In the face of this, the goblin king's surrender was a logical outcome.

I am losing the order of things, in this telling. We completed our search of the remainder of the under-levels of the place, finding many treasures which have since became gold filling our pockets, or weapons at our sides. Some horrible abomination called a Bar-Guest was far too powerful for us to slay, but this only reminds me that I must continue my harsh training, I must stay disciplined, as there are enemies who would laugh at my current level of weapons training.

Some enormous crab lived in a helm of gold. Worthy a foe as the crab was, fighting the original wearer of the thing would have proven more difficult. It is a large and strange world, and only the weak can turn a blind eye to this, content to hide among other weaklings, denying the powers that would devour them, manipulate them, destroy their false peace.

We freed the warhorse the goblins had imprisoned, and it is a fine mount as any I have ever encountered. Shadowmist is its name, and it is my steed and student. Already we have performed as one, just as to a true warrior the sword is an extension of the arm, so the mount is an extension of the legs.

I have purchased new armaments to deal with the alien horrors that await us, lances of silver and cold iron which I am led to believe may be the materials to kill many such creatures. I have purchased an enormous greatsword, a clumsy but powerful blade to carve through the toughest of foes. I have girded myself in magical armor, a cloak that enhances the mind and body's resistances, a ring that provides invisible protection, and an amulet that hardens the skin. I have even purchased well-made barding for Shadowmist, as the mount is my responsibility, and I wish to keep this one alive.

Still, even with all these precautions, a man must not grow complacent. There will always be those stronger, better prepared, than the last group faced. My training must continue, and Shadowmist's has only begun: My horse must learn to fight as I do. My mount will fight as a monk.

Session 8 Summary

Either you, Rocca Sanitchou, are gaining a great deal of understanding of the strange ways of the people of Varisia, or you, thief, have stumbled upon a most fascinating series of tales. Read now of justice, thief, and know that it is coming to you.

We testified in the trial of Tsuto the half elf kinslayer. The man murdered his father and many glassworks employees. He plotted with goblins against the civilized nations of men, all in the name of his hatred for his family and his obsession with Nualia.

The trial was not to determine his guilt or innocence, but his madness or sanity. What a strange place this is, where insanity is not an additional crime, but a defense of sorts. The question was whether Tsuto would be executed as a sane man, or be confined to an asylum. Though they say no one ever leaves the place, I believed Tsuto's allies would make efforts to break him out, and in doing so free more madness into the world.

There was no clear definition of insanity provided at the trial, thus, I used my own. Goblins are entirely insane, as they act without reason or self preservation. The insane have lost their connection with any shared reality. The mad exist in a plane not shared by men nor spirits nor demons, but a plane in their own minds. They are entrapped in illusions their own weak souls have concocted for them.

Tsuto was not insane - he could have been right. But for our intervention, he could have destroyed the city, had his revenge, possibly even had Nualia in whatever physical form he found most appealing.


In any case, the trial showed me that the people of this land consider justice of less important than lunch. The magistrate stated as much. For all their talk of tolerance and religious freedom, the majority of the questions from both prosecution and defense dealt with stereotypes of race and religion. This did allow me to learn more about my companions, but I believe it told me more about the truth of this land's view of justice.

Ash has a longer name, but goes by a shorter one. She is in fact a holy woman of a god of secrets. Being publicly a nun or priestess of secrets must put her in an awkward position with her deity. I am curious what penance such a god might require. It would probably be very difficult to find out, as it is likely a secret.

Xenvia faced more racial persecution than religious. Both prosecution and defense tried to use her in comparison to Tsuto to create generalizations about half elves. She eloquently countered that each half elf, like each member of nearly any sentient race, is an individual who makes their own choices. Insanity does not run in their veins like goblins. I do not believe goblins are entirely sentient.

Coral faced discrimination regarding her being a mermaid, a poorly constructed argument that her vision was poor. The defense attorney must think he dealt with fools. He may have been correct, regarding the magistrate.

Zeldana stated that she believed Tsuto was insane. I understand why it would seem that way - he was consorting with goblins, after all. His embalming the corpses in glass, however, was one of the saner things he did, as it could cover many of the foul vapors that leave a body after death.


They had very little to ask or say to Vehran. Perhaps they find him frightening, I am not sure. I have never found Vehran frightening, but later he gave them reason to fear. That amused me greatly.

Tsuto's attorney created a distracted and Lyrie then attacked with magic. Her onslaught was fierce. I will never return a spell book to a wizard who is not my ally again. Fire, then stinging darts of spell energy rendered me unconscious. The others managed to slay the two, and I was able to deliver a leaping devil combination air kick to Tsuto before magic took me out of the battle.

Evidently sometime while I was recovering Vehran drank Lyrie's blood. There were witnesses. I saw the blood on his teeth, though he drinks blood more neatly than I have seen most men drink wine. Always a dandy, even in cannibalism. He confessed to being a "Damn-Peer," apparently a half vampire of some sort. As he is partially undead, this explained why raw divinity harms him, and why he recovers from baleful energies.

This was a wonderful moment for me, Rocca. Both to see the expressions on the townspeople's faces, confronted with the brutality of the world they would hide from, as well as the knowledge that Vehran is not a superior warrior to me! He is simply a superior being to me. He is stronger and more resilient than any man because of his lineage. I believe with sufficient training, my discipline can overtake his good fortune. In any case, I would rather he be my ally than enemy, all the more so, now.

Now we investigate a murder, Rocca, and I am again deputized to enforce the law in an official capacity. I have no more time to write, as every moment counts when dealing with such crimes. I must not let the trail become cold.

Session 9.5 (Bonus)
Some thought it foolish, my writing a journal, knowing a thief might steal it, along with the rest of my things, and find themselves unable to look away from the compelling words on those pages.

And yet it happened. How foolish am I, now?

After returning from the asylum, I went to sleep in my usual inn room. Word of the reward I was offering for information on the killer had evidently attracted interest, but not interest from a knowledgeable informant, but from a thief. Evidently the thief thought I had the reward in my room, broke in while I slept, and made off with everything I had.

A man in my profession gathers an absurd amount of items and weapons they keep on hand. Adventurers are veritable pack mules, covered in weapons, arrows, bolts, potions, packs, scrolls, rings, bracelets, circlets, belts, and more, all glittering with magical energies for those who can sense such things. Or, glittering with value, for those who can appraise such things.

The thief made off with my savings in gold, both of my longbows, my two lances, my greatsword, my arrows, my cloak, and my chain shirt of armor. I was left with only the items I retained in my sleep, my ring and my amulet.

I have substituted my old journal for a new one, and have put aside the murder investigation to track down this thief.

My window was left open, though I always close and lock it. This seems to be the thief's obvious point of entry. I will begin by asking around to see if anyone witnessed the break in.

Perhaps Xenvia will be needed to act as a consultant, so see if she can find any footprints left behind by the intruder, or animal scat, or nature odors, however her strange techniques actually work.

Ash or Vehran might be able to consult with a god, or some long dead blood-drinker, to gain the insight of a higher power.

Zeldana could tell my fortune. It is my destiny to take revenge, and retrieve what was lost. I will consider this, though I understand the Harrow is often cryptic and vague, and will not likely tell me the thief's location, or the weak points in their fighting style.

Coral would probably write some song about this event. I do not see the value in this. I will not consult Coral.

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Ah, help comes from unexpected places. The child I saw the other day riding a broom he called Shadowmist said he saw someone climb into my room during the night. I told him that as he was a good informant, I would excuse him from breaking the city's curfew laws. He questioned whether such laws were in place. I simply laughed loudly, and told him it was a matter of time. He seemed to understand.

He said he witnessed a child climbing into my room, and lowering my things in packs with rope out the window, slowly enough to avoid waking me and making noise. To steal so many things took quite some time, yet no one intervened. He told me where this fat little boy ran off to. Fortunately, I still have Shadowmist, and my fists (and feet, and elbows, and forehead, and all the other traditional monk weapons). I will have these pages added to my original journal soon, when I retrieve it. Though it may be covered in the blood of a thief.

Leopold's Story, part 1:

Leopold continued to turn the pages of the diary, horrified, but unable to look away. This man was heralded as a hero, while he would probably be flogged, or worse, for his thievery? This was the man children pretended to be? Well, Leopold often pretended to be a child, so he gave that one a pass.

Still, what a scary guy, he thought. Pretty good haul, though. Lots of magic things, weapons made out of rare materials, should fetch a pretty good price. He knew he couldn't sell it local. Krupt or one of his friends would track it back to him too easily. Maybe Magnamar. He could do the old bale of hay trick, hitch up some horses. Should make enough to not have to work - or steal - for years, if he stayed away from the dice tables. He would this time, he promised himself.

Glass exploded inward as someone came crashing through the window, feet first. The man was covered in shards, cut and bleeding, but grinning like it was his wedding night, as he approached Leopold with a slightly limping gait. It was him. Krupt.

How long did I spend reading this thing, Leopold asked himself, and thought fast. The man might take him in, he thought himself lawful. But he might just kill him, the man was evil. No, he has pull with the local authorities. He'd arrest him, but make sure he was hung. He was lawful-evil.

But, Leopold wasn't a competent thief just because he could climb, or open a lock, well. He was a fast thinker, and glib enough to avoid consequences. He threw his head forward in a deep bow.

"I was a thief before, Deputy Krupt. But reading your story has changed my life," Leopold began, keeping the fear out of his voice as best he could. "I wish to pledge myself to you. To be your disciple. I want to learn of the martial arts, of justice. I, uh...I want to be the tyrant of my own destiny!"

The next few moments were the longest of Leopold's life, he Morvius cracked his knuckles, circled him, dragging bits of glass as he did. The man re-armed himself, donning his chain shirt, swinging his sword in circular arcs, thrusting the lances in rapid patterns. Satisfied all of his belongings were intact an accounted for, Krupt replied:

"It is only natural my words would change your life, and your entire worldview, half-man-ling," Krupt said in a gravelly tone. "And if I end your life now, I will never see how that change could bear fruit. So be it. You will repay me with interest for this offense. Your training begins now."

Grabbing the halfling by the collar, Morvius leaps along with him out of the second story window. They both soon learned that the technique of slow fall was one neither had mastered.

"You may make a poor student, halfling, but you are already an excellent cushion for a landing."

"Ooof," Leopold eloquently replied. He was already regretting this.