Golden Fire: the journal of Cluidhn Malta'i'nour

Truly, Apsu's blessings are upon me. Another of the Maker of All's gifts has revealed itself. Yberre, the bearded ones and myself awoke at Brightstar manor to find that Honor had vanished on family business. Uncowed by the lack of thief and mage, we descended into the catacombs via a secret door. We were ambushed almost immediately by two dark stalkers, whom we assailed and bested with sword and sorcery. One we slew, and the craven beast's body exploded with blinding light. The other, we subdued and bound with strong rope, to answer many questions. I learned a valuable life lesson: do not, no matter how tasty it appears, lick a glistening oily substance off of a dark stalker's knife. It makes one feel ill.
Hralf and Hagbard discovered an ancient imperial map room and encountered an Empress's ghost, as above Yberre and I were attacked by a skeletal Praetorian Guard; no mere husk, but a skilled and powerful swordsman. It was then that I felt new power flow through me and Apsu's will smashed the foe's grinning skull into powder. We claimed our treasure: an ancient helm for me, a magical breastplate for Hralf, and a lovely sword of the legion. We then ascended to the surface once more, dragging our captive on the stones.
The priestess of Sarenrae was not at the temple, and the lone acolyte was less than helpful, so on Hagbard's notion we strolled to the temple of Torag, there to meet the dwarven high priest. A crusty sort, he examined (and battered) our captive, healed (and battered) myself and proceeded to pay a very lackluster sort of attention to Hralf and Hagbard's pleas to send blah blah to Forge blah. Aside from the sharp pain in my shins, a dreary experience overall. The priest agreed to watch and interrogate our captive, and we took our leave.
Our captive secured, we decided to investigate the Medusa's Eye, the ship whose sigil had been on the werewolf's crate. We met with dockmaster Joseph, a rotund man whose considerable girth exceeded his helpfulness. He did, however, tell us of the fell ship's captain's sour reputation, and recommended a local watering hole as a possible source of information. The rheumy-eyed old barkeep at the run-down bar pointed us toward some drunken dockworkers, whom Yberre charmed with his silver tongue. Armed with more information, we set out on a reconaissance of a certain warehouse connected with the Medusa's Eye.
The building was large, locked and had no clear windows through which to spy a glance of the interior. We decided to wait for Honor to return before attempting to gain entry. We hied to our next destination, a much smaller warehouse. Upon investigation, we dicovered some dead beggars outside. This gave us all the reason we needed to search within. We discovered a reeking charnel house, filled with butchered bodies. The centerpiece of this grim tableau was my nemesis, the mustachioed half-elf, pinned to the wall by large nails. He had been mutilated at length with surgical instruments, whereas the other bodies that littered the room had been murdered by some sort of animal or monster. As the bearded ones ran to fetch the Guard, we discovered a unique left-handed stabbing dagger. Our friendly guard captain informed us that this sort of dagger was the hallmark of Nixus Sly, an underworld leader and the mustachioed half-elf's boss. So the veils are parted, allowing clear sight...
A charred, burned-out ship all thought to be the Medusa's Eye drifted into port, but our keen eyes detected facets of new planking that suggested the wreck to be a sham, designed to convince any interested parties that the Medusa's Eye was no more. A devious and deceitful piece of work, rather in line with what we had heard about the captain's character. So, upon Honor and Markas' return, we stand ready to raid the warehouse, explore the catacombs, and make it to Starshine in time to meet with Garius Wind and prevent an underdark uprising before the full moon. I am confident that Apsu will bless these endeavors and grant me the strength to prevail. -All praise to the Maker of All-

Golden Fire: the journal of Cluidhn Malta'i'nour

I feel stronger, more... vital. After our bloody encounter with the undead in the undercity warrens, we returned to Brightstar manor to rest our battle-weary bones. Upon awakening, we realized that the mercurial Markas had disappeared, off on another errand for the wealthy Brightstars. We met with an eminent diviner, Garius Wind, and agreed to meet in Starshine for the full moon, where we will trade information for gold. My kin will be assembled there, and the thought of seeing my family plants ice in my soul. The bearded ones returned, having been deported via the devious machinations of my personal bane, the mustachioed half-elf, who I have marked with my claws. With Hralf and Hagbard, we set out to give the elven zombies a bloody release from their undeath. With Honor guiding the way, we returned to the sacrificial pit where we had fought the horde of zombies. Constantly dealing with illusions, we entered the burial chamber, only to be surprised by traps. Hagbard, previously wounded by runerock, was felled by a dart, and I managed to feed him a curative draught. Honor, Hralf & Yberre bested a very unfriendly door and we entered another section of the underwarren, traveling beneath the sacrificial pit. At first we were glamered, but stolid Yberre broke the illusion. A hideous altar was revealed, and the righteous fury of Apsu flowed through me. Dragon fire smashed and burned, and a place of evil worship was cleansed from the world. Honor led us again, and a long walk led us to an abondoned warehouse containing a crate stamped with a medusa symbol. Hoping for gems and gold, I naturally jimmied it open. Something with metallic wings blasted out of the crate and flew skyward, occupying the dwarves for a time. But the real cargo was still in the crate. A crazed, feral human wrapped in rags. He tried to eat Honor, and thus I fired an arrow at the cad. At this point, his eyeballs went black and he howled, body contorting and crackling as he shapechanged into a monstrous wolf-thing. My companions reacted like veterans; I burned the beast, Hagbard assailed it with magical darts of acid, and Honor slashed it with a beautiful silver dagger. It tried to run, but brave Yberre and Hralf coralled the creature. The wolf-thing sprinted to the corner and gave us its throat. As it melted back into manform, we were able to talk with him and ascertain that he had been kidnapped, was unaware of his lycanthropic condition, and had been starved and poisoned by the crate's other monstrous occupant. There was only one course of action left to us. We bound the wretch and brought him to the temple of Sarenrae for succor. The priestess was happy to heal us and promised to do her best for our prisoner. We left her with a small fortune and found a hero's bow, suitable for my strength. We then returned once more to Brightstar manor to rest once more. Hmm... mustache, a shadowy cargo ship, evil creatures under the manor, a trip to Starshine; this is getting very intricate. My priority is still to find the fair folk and release them from undeath... -Apsu guide our path and grant us glory-

Golden Fire: the journal of cluidhn malta'i'nour

The reek of the undead clings to my nostrils, a constant reminder that
three of the Folk remain in a twisted mockery of life, in the dank
underbelly of this stinking city. In typical human fashion, the city
government deported the bearded ones who possess not just expertise in
navigating the underdark, but an avowed specialty in the eradication
of the undead. I have seen many things in my long years, but never
such directed, cunning malevolence. What disgusting, unholy beast lies
beneath the blood-soaked grate? And what twisted intellect spawned and
commands it? The valor of my companions in that room of death made my
blood sing, and it is good to stand alongside the mage from Apsu's
dream-sending. A sense of destiny marks our band of heroes, and I am
certain that the Maker of All will give us the strength to burn out
this foul threat to the innocent. The mustachioed half-breed's face
lingers mockingly in my thoughts; it seems that he is but a thread
that shall lead us to a weave that shall lead us to the hand that
guides the weave... -Apsu's golden wings above me, Apsu's golden
blood within me-