After several baths and almost an entire 24 bells worth of rest, I finally had the strength to pull myself out of bed. Mostly because I can hear Rigg downstairs literally running laps ON his cell room walls. I should remind myself next time to put him in a square room where such things would not be possible for such a speedy creature…
Anyway, to summarize the events transpired. We have come upon a young Quickling by the name of Rigg Gargadilly. Like most of his kind, he is bloodthirsty and has an affinity for evil pranks as well as shiny treasures. We found young Rigg in an abandoned fey tower that was pointed out to us by a Gnomish explorer by the name of Jubilast Narthropple. Needless to say I personally jumped at such an opportunity to explore my ancestry.
Rufus and Sir Thorne, ever the protectors, charged recklessly into the ruins. Fallen tapestries, clothing, and broken furniture littered the floor, hindering our movements. It was at this time that young Rigg attempted to ambush us using our lack of mobility. He quickly dispatched Rufus (clever bastard, knowing to rid himself of the only ranged threat) with a vicious sleeping poison that rendered him unconscious.
Gazl and I were having difficulties trying to make our way through the ruins to be of any assistance. Sir Thorne, in a rare moment of tactical brilliance, remembered and drew the Fey Bane Blade that our dreambound Rufus carried. Sir Thorne held his own one on one with Rigg, but the Quickling managed to escape by levitating high into the spire.
Gazl and Sir Thorne, lacking the ability to fly, made heroic chase upwards into the tower. With only a sleepy ranger and rubble to aid me, I flew upwards against our fey foe. It is at this time that Sir Thorne has mentioned to me (and on several occasions since) that he locked eyes with the “Most Gorgeous Woman in Written History!” (please read that in Sir Thorne’s voice, as I intended to convey). Unfortunately this beautiful creature was an even more vicious style of fey than the one we were facing. Her beauty quickly made a fool of our hot blooded knight, and she had him running wind sprints up and down the tower.
Eventually I incapacitated our Quickling foe, and flew up to the top window of the tower. Inside I found that this evil fey woman had pinned down our young Gnomish priest, and was feasting upon his blood. He tried to resist, but the woman’s unearthly charm combined with a sinewy frame held him fast. I hesitated for a moment, not knowing what to do against such a powerful enemy alone. Luckily I was quickly aided by a recently awoken ranger and a quite winded knight.
It took all of our combined might, but eventually our valiant Sir Thorne took a moment out of his schoolboy infatuation to cut off the fey woman’s head. With a dying hiss, she cursed the mighty knight, withering his normally powerful frame. We decided to spend the night recuperating in the tower, gaining knowledge from the items within. With young Gazl to guide me, I removed the dying creature’s curse from Sir Thorne.
We eventually cleared out the rest of the ruffians in the tower, which included another evil fey and an assassin vine. Afterwards, with young Rigg locked in a box, we made our way back to Ironhold. Unfortunately fate had no plans of making such a journey uneventful.
We came upon a fecal encrusted area which housed a mad hermit and a wildcat with glasses fused into his snout. If you cannot believe what I just wrote, just imagine our surprise when we actually beheld such a sight. Rufus scouted ahead, and returned to remind us that my dear friend Bokken stated once he had a brother that was even crazier than he.
Out of duty to my old compatriot, I tried to reason with the mad hermit, to no avail. He eventually lashed out at us in a crazed rage, flinging feces covered cutlery in all directions. We made short work of “Evil Bokken”, and Gazl used his divine power to attempt to talk to the wildcat. While Gazl would’ve persuaded even the most staunch of forest dwellers, it appeared the cat remained on edge, in no doubt a reaction to the horrid treatment it received from the evil poop hermit. With no more to be done, we sadly left the pitiful creature to tend to its own wounds in the forest.
Upon returning to Ironhold, we displayed the unconscious hermit to Bokken. He quickly explained how it was indeed his brother, and that we should get rid of him immediately because “he’s fucking crazy”. Bokken also demanded a locket that the poop hermit carried, which he explained contained a photo of their mother. I left my friend to his thoughts, but not before our shrewd negotiating knight granted us a boon of potions from the old alchemist.
We called an emergency council meeting, and Alwyn gave us the abridged version of recent events. Once again it seemed that Grigory used our time away to turn our own people against us, appearing in several areas around town to do so. We deduced that Grigory is a professional charlatan funded by a more powerful and wealthy puppetmaster. With a watchful eye, the Iron Tide will be look forward to confronting this shadowy threat…