The Ruins of Myvolia

Wrecked

Idiots!

You spend two centuries trying to purge the only hope for your salvation!! Why try to destroy the one power you have to fight the unnatural? Why should I have to hide my gifts?

So, supper didn’t go very well. After a half smattering of niceties and uncomfortable silence the two priests started arguing again. Near the end of the meal the ship started listing back and foreth heavily and a young deck hand yelled for the captain regarding some mysterious storm thundering in. Everyone rushed to the top deck. I decided to take stock of the stoutness of the ship and see if the bilge was up to the stress of a prolonged storm.

The lizard scuttled under the table to eat the remaining leftovers of the prepared meal. The ship seemed quite stout and well built…the crew seemed to know what they were doing and the bilge look operational. So I thought I would let the professionals do thier job. That was not to be.

There came much more violent lurches and sounds of fighting. A call to arms erupted from the the deck above. I rushed up the stairs to witness a moderate sized water (or air) elemental in full vortex form pounding the crew and ship. I assumed the plannar entity was fueling its ire from the depths of the ocean so it would be very powerful and almost immune to the vain brandishings of the mundane weapondry of the crew and passangers. Several crew members were crushed by the blows or torn from the deck and hurled into the churning waters.

I was loath to announce my powers to this unwashed rabble and expose my secret to the judging eyes and tennants of our Pelorian shipmates. But I saw no other reasonable course: if I wanted to ride this ship to Psionia I would have to intervien. I took out my crossbow and fired a few useless shots into the writhing vortecx of our primorial foe. Then, when everyone else was ensconced in the battle, I let loose as many scorching rays as I could into the upper most recesses of the twisting cyclone…knowing that the magical energy would have a more permantent effect on the creature.

Thankfully, the well sculpted Latern knight seemed to possess a rather ubiquitous example of a energy weapon. The weapon crackled angrily at its user and foe in what could only be described as an indignant destruction of carnage. Put to well use (though it will probably be the downfall of our young knight) his weapon and my magic disipated the plannar creature to its mundane form…but not before the integrity of the ship was compromised.

Everyone started scattering for riggings and lanyard. Trying desparately with thier uneducated lives to save thier own skin. I had other concerns.

If this vessel was to be stroon across the rocks I was going to get us the proper supplies. I walked back down underhold while the rest of the sailors were scambling for air and the water was pooring into the capsizing vessel. I mumbled my incantation for the breath of the water and studied the cargo for useful product and information. I quickly scanned any books I could find but found the water cutting into them destroying them quicker than I could reason thier value. I then decended further to open the cargo hold and cut as much cargo loose as possible to lash together a raft and have enought food and water for survival.

The motions of the ship were eratic and the falling of the ship became intense. I felt my body beginning to be squeezed by the depths of the sea. Strange. I had never thought of that before: the bulk of the water was squishing me, trying to burst my puny body…to make it one with itself. It was trying to disperse my body into itself. I know this knowlege could be applied to life and death: I must study this more.

Knowing I couldn’t have much more time. I decided to recover as much as I could from this loss. I took to the captains quarters. I searched for anything usefull: I found charts and ledgers being soaked by the water and discarded them as useless in a shipwreck. I looked for valuables that I could trade and barter with savages. I found a heavy chest. I assumed it was the treasury for the passage. I decided to take it to recover as much loss as I could.

The pressure was intensifying: as hard as I tried I couldn’t swim strong enough with the heavy chest in my arms. Tucking the chest under my arm I desperately cast a spell to give me the flight of a bird. With the power flowing through me I no longer had to rely upon the mundane use of limbs to propel me through the water.

I breached the surface of the churning waters and scouted about slightly skimming over the cresting waves. I spotted the crew who had already started lashing together the crates I had released from under the hold. The survivors had drifted quite far from where I surfaced so I balanced the chest on my back and shoulders and mimmicked a front crawl as I skimmed the surface of the water toward my shipwrecked companions.

All of the surviving crew and passengers were quite surprised to see me, the small Gnome, survive the brutal wreckage…especially the captain whose eyes buldged as I slammed his personal chest on the deck of the makeshift raft.

“Is that my chest?” he sputtered ridiculously.

“Yes. Do you have the key.” He nodded. “Good I want a refund. You promised me passage to Psionia. I would suggest you give all the passengers a refund and double the pay of your crew to make up for your incompotence as a captain.”

He then opened up the chest and gave me back my money.

It took a little over two days to reach the rocky shores of land…and the problems inherent with that.

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Aboard the Osprey

It’s as I fear. The bulk of the passengers are preists and knights of Pelor. I find it hard to relate with any ofthem and am very careful not to show or discuss my occupation. I’ve brought along a small lizard man I bought two villages back: he has been very helpful with distracting others who would otherwise stare at me. He is fully capable of carrying a heavy load and scouting for ambushes…or fish. I think I will keep him for a while longer.

The captain seems a stout professional man, brisk and proficient which is a welcome change from the rabble I’ve continually met throughout my travels so far. How can so many stupid people exist so effortlessly? The first mate is a dour homely man whose dark stares unnerve me a little. He seems to focus his baleful eyes on my lizard more than not: so, mission accomplished. The longer I can use the lizard as a social shield (or physical) the better.

I’ve run across a couple of bickering monks. They seem to have little love for each other but seem bound on some mission for the church. They continuously argue about books and urns and rabble on endlessly abou the will and might of Pelor: as if the empty god has some fraction of control over the events of this world.

A single knight seems to have been conscripted to the protection of the two monks: I can see in his eyes the pain the endless bickering has had on his mind. And the endless proselytising of the yonger monk has even drawn the devout knight into a couple of arguments. I must admit the stern tacturn well cut lines of the Pelorian Latern Knight has arroused more than one feeling in me…sorry Theraspian…I still love you.

I don’t recall any of their names but I hope to be rid of them before long and studing the mysteries of Psionia in under a week.

They are calling for the evening meal.

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Roll into town

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After listening to that blasted lisping skull for more than a week spout about finding our way to Psionia I had to put in at an inn just for the sake of a soft bed. It was close. The bed was straw and softer than the dry dusty earth but the amount of nocturnal insects I had to share it with made me feel the fool for paying more than a single copper.

The room kept the sky away from my head and the earth frommy feet…but that was all. I managed to spend enough time studying my newly aquired books to get a fuller grasp of the necro arcane subtlties inherent of my new skills. That was nice considering that I will be cramped on a narrow drakkar for the next week with a bunch of devout lunks with nothing better to do than preach about the evils of what makes life…life.

Alright, probably not a fair assessment but Iresent having to hide the fact that I’m able to learn comlext multi-realities simply becuase the unwashed bear a fearfilled grudge against thier lack of comprehention. Don’t they see the intrinsic nihlism of life and the logical workings of the world? The bliss of the void will inspire there empty minds on thier deathbed. well, that is if i don’t find a better purpose for them. which reminds me I should findsome more documentations on the limitations and contingencies invovlved in a well performed raise. It would be unfortunate for me to acquire the ultimate skill and be ableto adequately take advantage of it.

Oh, how I will cherish the day when I wrest the life force of a unwasahed and feed it into the quivering bones of a discarded shell of humanity. How I will tremble with pride and extacy as I master the pupetry of life and death. any child with a tinder and spark can spue the fiery waqsh of sorcery but it takes a real dedication to the art to wrestle with the fabric of life itself…to conquer the world of reality and fiction, to encompass the oneness of nothingness…to express yourself with the negative of what energy is…the void of life and deaath.

Alritgh, to sleep. We will find thew path to our studies…we are so close to Psionia that if Theraspian is right we will find our treasure and I can make my man whole again.

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