Dear diary,
Yesterday (was it yesterday?) was the worst day of our journey yet. As I went down twice this time, augmenting my achievements in that speciality, my prowess in the use of conjury progressed too. But all of that at a high cost, let me explain.
Last entry ended with us crashing into a chamber. As I stood up after the pratfall from the slide turned stairs, it was encouraging to notice that though I had been stuffed between the two halfling men, none of them had this time tried to take advantage of the situation. By the light of Jonathan’s shield and the green gloom of the room itself, the place presented itself as a cul-du-sac. No apparent way out: the way we came in was now too steep to travel, and only some high up and barred windows; this was not looking well.
Finn and Jonathan started examining the room and concentrated on the lunettes, using the enchanted shield trying to peek through. Not that confident any more in the skills of the rogue to spot danger, (And, in all honesty, dear diary, also getting a bit addicted to casting spells.) I took some distance and kneeled down to concentrate. Picking up the spellbook, it felt almost as if it hailed me with a catlike shudder; then the pages seemed to flip by themselves to the correct spot. Reciting and gesturing the power build up in me. (Like, well, like magic, dear diary!). Again my heart rate increased only to be matched, or so I must have been imagining, by the moonstone stored safely and secretly nearby in my dress. Steering the flow of the spell throughout the chamber, the right corner returned a vibe, indicating that there a passage could be hidden.
Now I knew where to push, so I conjured up an unseen servant (You may have a point diary, not only my magic skills but also my magician's arrogance are increasing, thanks for pointing this out!) and commanded the creature towards the right corner, making it push against the wall. To no avail, alas. Not even the abundant growing moss was impressed by my attempt. At my request Jonathan tried to assist, but also to no avail. Finn ignored my appeal, off course, standing back and monitoring our fruitless endeavors. And to annoy me further, he started chewing on a piece of cheese, commenting that the iron scent of the room made it taste like ‘dwarves deep cheddar’. But after some friendly words from my side, the two halflings joined the search on that side of the room. On instigation of Finn, Jonathan started ticking and knocking on the stones, while the rogue listened intensely, every now and then poking the masonry himself.Then he drew a knife and drove it into the seam between two rocks. The blade got in quite deep, but the wall did not start bleeding or moving.
Out of ideas myself, I set my magical creature to thrust the knife as well, with no real effects. Not only I lost it in my frustrations. Finn made some strange steps backwards, then charged in at the wall, kicking it violently. My father would have said: “He attacked like a wind-up dire wolf charging a mirror, lots of noise, all teeth, but in the end just headbutting itself senseless.” Finn however said something completely different, as his foot obviously lost the duel with the wall. Dear diary, luckily I’m trained rather well, by lots of gnomish suitors, in hiding my smile when men do stupid things to impress me.
All in all, I was getting frustrated with the situation and my companions. They were walking in and out of the magical sphere I had created, breaking my concentration. And not achieving anything in the process either. That was until Jonathan pulled the hilt of the knife! Just as I was distracted by Finn bumping into me, the priest set the wall in motion like it triggered a gnomish coil spring. And like I always was taken by surprise by the jack-in-the-boxes at home, the rotating stones achieved the same: Hitting me flat out! Dear diary, this time my collapsing was far from elegant, and the cracking of what was probably my nose bone was the last I heard.
During the time that I was down, Jonathan deployed both mundane skills, setting my broken nose (Dear diary, sometimes it’s nice to be unconscious!), and magical ones, restoring my health. Inhabiting an unsubstantial state, I not only felt the presence of the priest, mumbling his rituals, and of the rogue, cursing and biting his amulet, but also these of the spell book, yelping like a raven fledgling, and the moonstone, somehow calming me. Then Jonathan’s voice started becoming real again, almost physical. His healing chants bursting into my skull, awakening me rudely. As I opened my eyes, I stared right into his sweated face: “Inez, you’re back! How do you feel?”
Dear diary, though by now I should have grown a routine of regaining consciousness, as this seems to be my major or even only, adventurer skill. This time however, I was so scared as I brought my fingertips to my face, trying to assess the damage to my face. Never I felt luckier and more impressed by the healing powers of my companion! Though I still felt a pulsating pain behind my eyes, there seemed to be no lasting traces or marks. As I stood up arduously, helped by Jonathan, I thanked him in the most sincere manner (Probably not entirely according to my lessons in Etiquette). Still a bit dizzy, I took some steps like a Owl Bear Cub fallen out of its nest, only to bump into Finn. The rogue and I did not manage to come to a common understanding who was to blame for what. In Nook I would have dragged him into court, here I only could use him as a target for all the disgruntlements of the day so far. Which were plenty. Turning his back, walking out on me, I got even more furious. So, I walked over to Jonathan, paused a bit and waited till I was sure that Finn was peeking at us, then kissed the priest on the cheek. Dear diary, I must admit, that was a bit more than he (and poor Jonathan) deserved. As Dame Tockwhistle would say: “You’re our local Witch’s Lantern; you lure admirers, wrap them in your roots, then digest them slowly.”
The air was cleared by Jonathan. Even literally, as the opening of the passage had allowed a little breeze into the room. Cheerfully he led us through, into a new corridor. And as blind as him we followed, happy to leave the room and our quarrels behind. Only to walk into even more troubles!
The new chamber had a door to the left, which we, entering like steaming engines without a safety valve, completely missed. The room and our journey ended abruptly in the open, where the construction must have fallen apart many years ago. Underneath was a stream of green acid flowing, where Jonathan now was hanging above, grabbing for a grip. As the priest tumbled over the edge, Finn managed to grab him, just holding him by the trousers, and sounds of tearing fabric could be heard.Yelling not to let go I tried to secure Finn's position, solely to watch in horror as Finn’s attempts to help Jonathan failed all; both lost their grasp and Jonathan tumbled down! The splashing sound was horrible! Reaching the boundary to look, green fumes greeted us, burning in our eyes, we found out that Jonathan had stunningly managed to get out the biting stream, onto a small swelling of the side.
Dropping my backpack I started searching for a rope frenetically. Not finding any, I looked up to find Finn already in place with a line. Cursing and blushing, I took the rear position, wrapping the thread around my hands. Together we let it drop, calling out to the mortified priest to take and hold this lifeline. Infuriating, he shouts back that he won’t touch ‘this spider's thread’. After we retrieve the rope as fast as we can, I come up with the idea to color it, hopefully removing any arachnoid association, and spending my cosmetics on it. The second try leads to the same result, Jonathan won’t touch the line like it’s more acid than the green bubbling torrent. “Lower me down.” ; I say to Finn, “I’ll catch him and somehow we’ll work our way up together.” The rogue looks wearily at me, but I’m in no mood to discuss or be talked out of it. Tying the rope around me, I step over the rim, rappelling down while Finn acts as counterbalance. And for a little moment it has the earmarks of success. Until failure strikes again. Jonathan’s grip failed, and as he dropped, so did I: The princess of downfalls following her court into the acid.
Strangely, as I dove into the acid pool, my consciousness had left for other places already. The desperate look on Finn, the fountain of green that surrounds Jonathan and me as we hit the surface are the last impressions before fading out again. Anew entering a state similar to that when casting spells, the moonstone was engulfing this realm with light as a fluid like energy, in slow waves. The spellbook was hugging and warming me, calling up memories of my birth pet hamster. The strange characters on its cover lighting up in slow pulses, mimicking the rhythm of the moonstone. Drifting off, it felt like falling asleep in my bed at home, many years ago. Expecting my mother to tug me in, I looked up and there was: Light. Hard pulsating light. Pulses came faster and faster, brighter and brighter. The moonstone was physically hitting me with punches of light, one hit followed by another. Tearing the sphere apart, until the moment it all collapsed in an explosion of light...
And I was sitting up, on the ledge where we just had fallen from, Jonathan lying next to me, Finn sitting across. Strangely there’s no pain, only a small burn and bruise at the place where the moonstone was hidden in my dress. And speaking of dress, that is gone, only some rags and stitches remain of the clothes I was wearing! Dissolved by the acid, all the same, my skin looks untouched, even revived. Thereupon I realize that not an awful lot of my body is covered and Finn is planted next to me. Covering up with my hands I inquired: “What happened, how did we get here?” Even as I see that he’s relieved that both Jonathan and I are showing signs of life again, he makes sure his response deepens the crimson of my embarrassment: “Managed to pull you both out. You losing most of your ballast did help lift you up here, both in weight and motivation.” Rubbing my temples there’s Finn’s voice, not from the outside but from within: “Don’t you ever do that again, Red. Thought I’d lost you.” I stare at him, flabbergasted: “What did you just say? And how did you get into my head?” He creates the impression that he’s as startled as I am. On occasion my teacher dr. Vexora would talk about this way of communicating: “Like gossip without the walking over.” And now the most unlikely of folk had just magically spoken-in-my-head. “Does this mean that you hear what I think?” I shouted at Finn. “Luckily I don’t, cause looking at your eyes it would not be much good.” He replied, this time typically through his voice and as typically combined with a joke at my expense.
Calming down I regretted my harsh words, the day's events would also have left an impression on him. One more time this rogue has gotten me out of trouble and I had not shown a lot of appreciation, did I diary? So, a serious expression of gratitude was in place. However, my training in etiquette once more failed, as how to thank someone properly while not dressed, had never been an item in my teachings by High keeper Ironmantle. Still I tried and thankfully Finn accepted them gracefully, stating then that he would attend to Jonathan, and that my backpack was lying in the other chamber. Moving there, I put on my rain cloak, together with a pair of sandals that I had used at home to sneak stealthily through the house. Dear diary, now I look like a follower of Baervan Wildwanderer, but still, better than running around like a hairless Tabaxi.
Getting back to the halflings, I noticed both of them sitting up. So Jonathan was also restored and fortunately, dressed. (Shut up, diary!) Apparently he had some spares with him or got stuff from Finn, or halflings textile is acid resistant? It’s not that they dress to impress, dear diary.
But the three of us had somehow made it through, with no real progress to report. With no energy or initiative left, we decided to somehow camp in front of the door we had entirely missed by falling down. Enjoying the view and the hissing of the acid pit below, but most of all, each other and the realization how this could have ended differently. Or is this just the dizziness in my head I feel, going out two times like this?
Well, dear diary, here it ends for me today. Personally, my theory is that somehow the moonstone was triggered, at first by the magic cast by Jonathan and me. After Finn managed to pull us out of the stream and somehow up, onto the edge, the moonstone started resonating with the remains of the magic energies that our spells had left there. And when it exploded, it recast the last spell, boosted to such a level, that all effects of our baths were washed away. Luckily for us that had been Jonathan healing me (and not an unseen servant pushing stuff around!).
Diary, I still feel awkward around Finn. First off I was quite harsh and mean to him (Yes, diary, point taken). In response he saves me while risking his life! But in the process he's seen and carried me around naked! To Jonathan he said that he looked awful, covered in blisters and worse. But he looked, almost for certain, also to me! That means he’s guilty ab initio (as my father would say). In his defence, he did save me and Jonathan and he was not responsible for my state of undress. And it could be argued that in order to save us, he needed eyesight on the situation. However, he kept peeking afterwards and kept pestering his innocent victim (me)! Which counts as a malum in se. Yes, dear diary, one could state that the corpus delicti in this case looks better than ever. Very funny and thanks for the compliment.
Alright, I will stop rambling about this, but only for now. Ad persistit, we were saved by the moonstone; it saved us once, it can do it again… though I’d prefer without the nakedness!. Write to you soon diary!
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