Good Mythical Morning

Adventure Log - 3
Not enough booze

It’s going to take years of drinking to wash the Ettercap memories away, but at least frying him to cinder helped. It’s a shame the gladiator took both of the decent blades, everything else in here has been shit.

Except the Potentium.

I mean…we found Potentium.

I don’t think he or any of the non-arcane inclined know EXACTLY how much that stuff is worth. Even a SHARE of it is going to fuel a delve or two.

At the least, it’s not ettercaps.

Fucking Ettercaps.

Arden's Written Account #4

Really beginning to regret coming along for this, even if my new swords probably cost more than I make in the arena in a month. Though that vial of Paradisium might be worth it if we manage to get out of this death trap alive.

And it is a death trap, make no mistake. Whatever that infernal machine that brought those skeletons back to life over and over again and kept siphoning off magic… there should be a way to destroy it, a way to just bring everything down on it, at the least.

That sort of thing is why I distrust works of magic as much as my people do. It’s unnatural and a perversion of the way the world should work. But what the hell do I know about it, I just cut things to bits for a living.

If nothing else at least those of us that survive- and I have every intention of surviving, just like I have before- will be stronger and smarter for the experience.

Not to mention richer.

Letters to a Lost Love - Issue 3
Wherein Peyton recalls attendance at a formal ball and tries to ignore the skeletons

Dearest Bryce,

I had a dream last night. I was back at the Thorton’s ball. You know, the one, the harvest ball? Lady Thorton had decorated the staircase of her porch with all sorts of gourds and legumes in honour of the festival. What a waste it was, especially as it created this dreadful maze we all needed to wander through to make it into the house proper.

And once inside, it seemed more of the same. Animals upon the table, crafted from gourds and legumes and beans. Birds were plumed with wheat feathers. It was ingenious, but I can’t imagine the waste of food. It was lavish; what one had come to expect from a Thorton ball.

I wanted very little to do with any of it. I was in the middle of finishing a book. Something terribly important to my research at the time. I’d secreted it away in my pocketbook. My mother would have been appalled. Father would have just clucked his tongue and given me that look (you know the one, that particular one in which all fathers everywhere seem to excel, that indicate that you have displeased them in some way). I think Great Uncle Alten would have understood, but he still would have pointed out that our place in society demands that we fulfill our duty and obligations, no matter how onerous they seem to be.

Yet, I still remember making myself scarce, and venturing out to a moonlit veranda. You found me there, as I recall, and although quite tempting, I still made the attempt to read my book. You were quite diverting, and charming that evening. I may have even danced that night, trying not to tremble in your arms, my thoughts far from my research and lost for the remainder of the evening.

You, kind, dear, wonderful Bryce, achieved the unimaginable and pulled me away from my studies. It was that night I knew what our future would bring, and I knew, that if I were to achieve my goals, see my dreams bear fruit, that I would need to leave you.

So I left, and now I find myself, deep in the bowels of the earth, far below a ruined enclosure created by ancient mages of astounding potential. Likely because they had found a way to mine potentium from the depths of the earth in which we now find ourselves. Although, that seems to come with its own trouble, most of which seem to involve a lot of undead and spidiers.

For now, we’re trying to determine a safe way to disengage the drill and deal with the undead. Perhaps that old bar bet loss may prove of assistance, now that I can converse with the undead, but these don’t seem inclined to speak, and are rather more forceful with their actions.

I will right more soon, and at that time, I hope I’ll be able to indicate how we successfully concluded our business here.

You remain in my thoughts, and my dreams,

Peyton Wright

Arden's Written Account #3

Spiders, ettercaps, apparent and inevitable betrayal: the adventure continues.

At the very least I’m coming away with new weapons- fantastic work, these. I reckon I’ll bring them better use than the mainlander they once belonged to. The new pommels without the noble house insignias will eensure no one attempts to claim them back. They would be wasted on another of these soft mainlander nobles.

I’m not comfortable in this place, it reeks of old magic and failure, and the most valuable things we’ve found were scavenged from the corpses of those we were supposed to have been looking for, I suppose. No matter, the blades alone are worthwhile.

I half expected the sword-mage to either reveal what she knows about me or to at least confront me in private. So far she shows no inclination, though I imagine her little “episode” with the ettercap is keeping her mind occupied.

Arden's Written Account #2

I’m starting to really dislike spiders.

Also I think the swordmage has figured out who I am. I’m not sure that’s entirely a good thing- I reckon most mainlanders wouldn’t knowingly enjoy traveling with a “cannibal.” Foolish, soft sensibilities.

Oh well, we’ll see.

At the very least i’m not planning on leaving until I get something out of this journey.

Xavier's Musings: The Forest of Spiders
Creepy, crawly, far too little alcohol.

It’s been a fair trek today with all but our cleric in tow; He stayed behind to look after our spider-vomiting friend which, if I know something about vomiting, isn’t a normal thing, was a wise and good hearted response.

Everyone seemed to be in good nature, even as we pressed in to this place that seems to be growing darker and more ominous by the second. So ominous in fact that our friendly little druid happened to spot a pair of ‘spider bears’ to which I thought couldn’t exist.

Well, thankfully for me I was correct in assuming they weren’t literal crosses between spiders and bears, and unfortunately for me they were filled with thousands of little arachnid bastards. In some joke of Cayden’s, my best way of dealing with the small army was to roll around in them which has given my fabulous cloak a rather amusing dye to it. It looks pretty decent, but I could use a drink.

Oh. Right. I forgot to bring ale or wine.

Following our encounter we took a bit of a rest and found were the poor sods before us had been assailed. It’s truly a shame that many of these warriors never got the chance to truly live. I wish I could have at least taught this one to oil his blade frequently. Nevertheless, a small prayer was said and the location was marked upon our map.

Upon waking, we pressed deeper. We passed by what looked to be remnants of the Second Great Human Empire, which truth be told? Told us that something old and possibly dark was at work considering the way the spiders were laid out, and how they’d been ending up inside of other creatures. It wasn’t natural. The trees full of giant spiders however would have seemed natural were it not for the spear trap our lovely gnomish guide set off.

Whatever was here really didn’t want us going deeper.

After dispatching a band of rather acrobatic arachnids, we patched up and pressed onward, deeper in to the woods and found a cave.

Something tells me we’ll find what we’re looking for here.

Note to self: Buy more booze.

Letters to a Lost Love - Issue 2
Wherein Peyton extols the rather remarkable experience of being crushed by a diseased bear

Dearest Bryce,

My apologies in advance for the brevity of this missive. I am still recovering from my most recent encounter. It is not one I would recommend. Nor was it one that I had intended to try for myself. However, when you aren’t given any choice, the fates, nay the Gods, deal with you as they will, and sometimes, this results in finding yourself under a very large, very heavy and very smelly bear.

Perhaps I should further explain? When I’d last written, we had been set to the task of investigating what had brought back the expedition team with a belly full of spiders. Having headed in that direction, and found a forest full of webs and spiders, it seemed rather evident as to how it may have happened. Likely some sort of new spider parasite, or perhaps some magic infestation of some sort.

In either case, as we made our way further into the forest, built more of spider webs than trees or leaves, we encountered some larger spiders which attacked us. We defeated them without too much struggle, though the next encounter was more worrisome.

We’d spotted some rather large, and worrisome bears. Even from a distance, we could spot parts of their pelts which looked diseased, puss ridden and they gave off such an odour it would turn our stomach.

Adventuring isn’t always as glamourous as the stories would have you believe! Those bards, liars all of them!

We were attempting to sneak past them, but another member of our party caught their attention, and unfortunately, I was spotted near one of them as a result. My companions made quick work of the one beside me, but the bear, which had turned and attacked me, collapsed directly on top of me in a vile stench ridden gas which seemed to explode from the corpse as it hit the ground, breaking open the corpuscles of puss, and releasing small spiders as well.

As much pain as it was to feel the incredible weight of the bear pressed upon me, with all my strength I struggled out from under it, to find the battle had been all but resolved. Just a few small spiders remained to deal with.

Afterwards, we made our way further through the forest, and now, it appears we’ve found the entrance way. We made camp out in front of it, and after we rest tonight, we’ll be making our way inside.

I’ll need to be well rested, I’ve already discovered one trap on our way towards the ruins, and I expect I’ll be heavily relied upon as we explore the ruins to discover the remaining traps there.

As always, yours,


Day 1
I hate waiting.

Time is fluid, at least our perception of it is. To move and to act causes time to flow like a river, the ebbing tide of the day flowing from morning to afternoon to evening as easy as as leaves float down a stream.

Waiting? Waiting makes time freeze, a single minute feeling like an agonizing hour.

I hate waiting.

We have our task, and in this case they want to wait, to be cautious. They want to let something that is undoubtedly dangerous roam. So what if it won’t be when we arrive. At least the trail will be warmer than waiting for an addled fool who just vomited spiders to recover.

He’ll probably be catatonic.

Combine that with my former student, and this has bad idea written all over it.

Maybe though…I can get a return on the wedding gift I left for her….

I hate waiting.

Zi's Meanderings
A diary of a normal gnome


At first I was almost as excited as Rock. After all, one doesn’t often come across a person spontaneously regurgitating spiders of all things! But then the horse had spiders, and two other people had a case of The Spiders.

Yes, that’s what I’ll call it, The Spiders.

Goodness, I hope I don’t get The Spiders. Imagine them crawling up your throat if one got left behind. Though, I wonder why the bile in the stomach didn’t kill them…. Acid resistant spiders?

Not flame resistant though. And not stomping resistant or crushing. Yes, crushing. That had to be what the big guy did to them. Bodily crush them. So brave, how did he know that he wouldn’t get a case of The Spiders by one jumping down his throat.

But then Rock ate some and he didn’t get The Spiders. Not yet anyway. Maybe I won’t let him do clean up next time… Do you think it’s contagious? Or that it could get caught on the wind? That would be horrible. The wind should carry messages not death.

Ugh, death on the wind. Maybe I should rethink… No! That would simply be another flavor of the wind. After all it was only tall people and animals that got The Spiders. Clearly as a gnome I’m immune.

Now we chase the spiders to stop them. It feels like an abomination of nature and well, that’s what I’m here to do. Begone The Spiders!


Scribbles follow of musical notes and various catchy phrases about being rid of spiders. Clearly Zi has a song in mind for the journey.

Arden's Written Account

I can’t help but think it all a sign from the gods.

And I mistrust signs from the gods.

Perhaps the confluence of events that led this strange, rag-tag group together and left me covered in spider guts and with an apparent mission to retrieve some magical artifacts is all just one huge coincidence.

But somehow I doubt it, and as much as I mistrust these signs, I will follow along for the journey.

My people teach to follow not signs from fickle gods, but to make one’s own choices, to live and die by them.

And it’s my choice to follow this path where it leads.

I’ll probably hate myself for it, but in the end, what else am I to do except return to the arena? That life holds little interest to me anymore.

So, we’ll see.


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