Valeska Gale's Journal

Following a cue from Findel, Valeska has also decided to record her trials and tribulations in their shared D&D campaign. Valeska Gale is a bard turned cleric (though still certainly a bard) of some moderate power, who choses to explore and learn (with some occasional looting) rather than join some stuffy church.

Monday, September 22, 2003

So it’s time to tell you what really happened on my trip “home,” and to give you the beef on where not go for your romantic getaway.

While out and about in the city I happened to need some coinage, and dug around in my purse for some Varre. I found a note from Fatoxhxj, scribbled in his sprawling handwriting. It said (more or less) that if I were told that he was “off visiting friends” that I should assume that he was captured, and that if I wanted to “learn the truth about my homeland” that I should seek it out beneath the city streets. Of course, I wasn’t sure exactly what to think, but considering Fatoxhxj put his life on the line to bring me back to life, I would put mine on the line to find him.

After excusing myself from my cousin, I went exploring through the city’s multitude of parks to find some kind of sewer or utility tunnel entrance. My persistence paid off about an hour later when I found a lid leading to what looked like a service tunnel (fortunately it didn’t smell like sewer, I hate sewers). From here out I’m going to cut it short, details probably won’t interest you in the long run, and you’ll have to trust me when I say that the details aren’t important…what goes on in this wretched city is.

After walking a short while I came to a descending spiral staircase and a large side passage opening into a room. The room’s was easily fifty yards long, and about as many wide. Stacked, not standing, stacked, from floor to it’s fifteen foot ceilings was a sight that would have made anybody’s skin crawl (and if you’re reading this and not freaked out, we have to have a talk). Undead, skeletons, zombies and such were stacked from floor to ceiling. They looked at me with their cold eyes, fully aware that I was looking at them, but not responding in any aggressive manner. Suddenly it all began to make sense.

I explored in a little deeper and came across a truly macabre sight. Three stories deep of dead, nearly dead, or slightly dead creatures from all walks of the world. The fourth floor contained bizarre research rooms, complete with documentation involving the mutilation of living creatures in order to enhance their abilities. I took several documents for my own work, intent that someday I will do something to save these poor souls. I was also able to obtain the, albeit through more nefarious means, help of one of the guards in locating Fatoxhxj, he was on the fifth basement floor with the rest of the ‘live subjects.’

Well to cut it short (as I said I would), Fatoxhxj was on the bottom floor, along with what looked like a Drow with a huge tongue, and a modified ogre. There was also a truly beastly guard watching over the cells. Unfortunately for me, no matter how quiet I tried to be, he could smell me. Thinking quickly, I swapped out his uniform and armor to Fatoxhxj using a little bardic juju, and Fatoxhxj started working on unlocking his cell. This creature (I hesitate to call him a man), started attacking me, his maw transforming into that of a tiger, forgoing the use of his scimitar to instead bite at me. Fortunately, through the grace of Denita, we were able to beat him, and escape from this foul dungeon.

Fatoxhxj informed me to meet him at a beach, while he ran from town, and I ran back to get the remainder of my gear. I fabricated some cock-and-bull story of going out for a long walk, and left my Aunt, and her manor house for what I figure at this point is forever. Leaving town I saw some strange things that night (humans that appeared to be beasts of burden), and I wisely kept off the roads and steadily moved towards the beach. There I found Fatoxhxj’s gear, and a wonderfully designed campsite that didn’t look anything like Fat’s work. Would I be surprised though when I see him running towards down the beach with a few dozen of these creatures behind him, fighting the entire way. I yelled out to him, and he told me to get his portable moat ready. When he hit camp, we put it up, and Fatoxhxj started writing in the sand, while I tried to keep the enemy at bay.

Well, fortunately for us, Fatoxhxj had anticipated exactly this turn of events, and set up a message system to Yanni. After a grueling hour of assault, Yanni and Findel appeared miraculously in the area, and the fireballs and darkness went flying at these creatures. Yanni teleported us back to what I’ll now refer to as the “real world,” a sight I’ve never been so happy to see.

Fatoxhxj told me a little about what really was happening in my old home city. The undead were used to clean after hours; to keep the city in its full glory. He himself was slated to become one of these mutilations, and escaped at a young age (perhaps this explains a thing or two). Bringing me back there was true to his form, both compassionate and completely insane. For me, if I had let Fatoxhxj rot in that cell one more night I apparently would have been crowned Duchess, and had jewels and riches rained upon me. Small trade-off I say, the life of the person that saved me was worth losing the respect of people I now have no respect for myself.

Well not reunited with my friends, we’ll have to see what lies in store. Yanni has told me that Leena, and Co. have left for Ravenloft to save Savuud and Rudy. For both their sakes I hope they’re successful, but considering it’s Ravenloft, I’m not holding my breath, the stories I’ve heard would curdle your blood. Then there’s Tamil. Yanni’s been watching and says that he’s being tortured by a Drow priestess (why is it that people assume that all Drow are priestesses?) while being subsequently healed for another bout of torture. Findel’s intent on saving him, but I honestly have to wonder, if this isn’t some kind of Karma (you know, what goes around comes around). Of course I’ll have to think long and hard on this one. The group also seems to have brought on new help through an acquaintance named Kurt. Hells if I can remember their names, but one has to be the biggest half-orc I’ve ever seen. The other’s a little weasely elf fellow. Considering my latest bout with Elves, he’ll have to understand if I give him wide berth. We’ll have to see though, I think everybody’s planning on saving Tamil, and I’m still not sure…would he save me if the tides were turned?

Well, off to see a little Zind, I hear the place is very exciting, though I’ll bet the food will stink compared to what I’m used to.

Friday, September 19, 2003

So where did I leave you hanging?

That's right, death and life, and the space in the middle. From here on out you're going to have to forgive me, the names and places where I've visited are not my native tongue. Well technically they are, but they’re not really. Sheesh, let me just start from the beginning and throw in the comment that if my names are not pronounced correctly or spelled with the correct flourish, it’s because I haven’t spoken the language in over 25 years, I didn’t even know I spoke the language until a few days ago.

I was raised by a man named Keledrin Ellenyse, a priest of Malanshius. For those of you not in the know, Malanshius is the god of craftsmanship and shapechanging. I’ve heard rumors here and there that they worship during the phases of the red moon, but unlike most beast cults, they worship an actual God as opposed to the moon itself. While not inherently evil in its own right, I’ll put the religion into perspective in a bit. Knowing what little I knew, the resurrection seemed safe enough, though I certainly did have reservations. First checking to make sure these guys weren’t in league with Lucius, I determined that I didn’t seem to be in any kind of danger.

After a short discussion, and learning that I had been dead for just under a week, I found out a little of what happened to me. I was left outside the city gates with a note indicating that this was my home town. This of course, was news to me. After a little more questioning I discovered I had been brought to the city of Belladiene, on Barnasus, the fabled island off the coast of the mainland. After a little more prodding I discovered it was Fatoxhxj that had dropped me off here, and he was off the next town over visiting friends. Curious that he didn’t stay with me, but to find out that he was born the same place I was!?

What I saw next stunned me. Mendillin, Keledrin’s assistant began to show me a little of the city, while some accommodations were taken care of. The city was beautiful. I can’t put it into words honestly. In all, the place was about the size of Strea-Tarl but 10x more beautiful, with marble walls, towering manor houses, and beautiful architecture. The city must have been a true marvel of engineering, clean from stem to stern, and radiating with that kind of beauty you don’t expect from anything but the smallest of Elven settlements. Oh, did I mention that? The city was mostly Elven and half-elven, with a couple of humans thrown in here and there for good measure.

When I got back to the temple, I was surprised to find out that my Aunt (I didn’t even know I had relatives) found out I had been brought “home,” and was not just anticipating my arrival, but EXPECTING my arrival. Not one to turn down a chance to learn a thing or two about my past I of course took up the invitation. Words again can’t describe my surprise when I was taken to a glorious manor house, five stories tall, with gardens and sculpture that put Yanni’s pitiful estate to shame. A kindly butler named Wendlar met me and showed me my room, a veritable suite, with a bath, and king four-poster bed! After settling for about an hour, I was taken by Wendlar down to one of the many gardens to meet my aunt. A little poking and prodding later I discovered that it was true, I most certainly was from this city, and that I had been, “sent away for political reasons.” The law apparently states that if any banished at such a young age ever make it back home again, they are welcome back into society as if they had never left. Unfortunately my mother and father had both passed away (my father recently), and my closest relative was my Aunt. Also curiously, everybody is measured by his/her relationship to another. I found out more about my relatives than I ever expected I would learn in a lifetime. I went to sleep that night not knowing what to think, but learning so much about my history in such a short time was a little too much to take in at once. I slept like a baby; it was amazing how quiet the city was at night.

My next day was spent with a little city exploring with the company of a second cousin. We took down to the artisan wards and dock district to shop a little and to give me the opportunity to take in the culture. While everybody was kind enough to speak Elvish with me whenever possible, I began to realize that the tongue really was imbedded in me; a melodic singing language with an amazing ability to reflect emotion and adjectives. I must say, I saw a lot that morning, everything from the clean streets, to the utter lack of any beasts of burden, yet everything ran flawlessly. The city truly was an amazing sight!

I should also put in something about the people. You see, their styles are a bit odd, but worth noting. Most decorative features are entirely on the right side of the body. Hair is pulled to the right, earrings, tattoos, and other jewelry is worn solely on the right side. Conversely, the arm of the other side of the clothing is cut short, and most individuals wear some degree of tattooing (as far as I can tell it’s based on stature) over the entire forearm. I must say that I prefer the lose cut of my adventuring gear and other formal clothing any day over the rather odd cuts found there.

It was on my morning jaunt though that I found something disturbing, something that may haunt me for a long time in the end. I’ll have to come back to that in a few days though, until then…just know that I doubt I’ll ever be “home” again.

Tuesday, September 16, 2003

Well…

That’s the last time I die, I swear. I don’t care if I have to find a method to immortality, if that’s what death is… It’s just so damn boring. Let me give the uninformed a little detail on what exactly death encompasses. First you die. In my experience this is quite a bit more painful than you can possibly imagine. Both physically as your flesh is torn from your body and contusions form within, and mentally as your psyche is ripped from your body into what I can only assume is the plane of Limbo. I really need to attend some of those magic university classes on the Planes (note to self, ask Findel about this one). I can imagine though that dying peacefully while you sleep wouldn’t have those kinds of side-effects, but I refuse to test my new theory.

Once you’re dead this Limboesque place is just plain dull. No music, no real color worth mentioning. No conversation or pleasant dance, nothing but you, a twenty foot wide rock, and your thoughts. I should also mention to all of you who expect to commune with your patrons from this locale; it appears that our deities either chose to ignore, or cannot communicate with this plane. I of course will tend to believe the later. There is a silver lining though as the plane itself is serene, where you don’t feel as if time is passing at all, and really you could care less that it’s so damn boring. Of course from my vantage point I could see dozens of other rocks floating in space with quite a few other people in the same boat, though none were close enough to strike a conversation with.

Now if you’ve slept through this description so far, let me tell you…pay attention to this next part, because it could be very important. The holes in your personal rock (did I mention the holes?) typically reach through the planetoid. I heard thoughts in my head, explaining that somebody wanted to raise me from this place, calling me back to my body, while at the same time I had a sensation that I should crawl through one of the holes. Conversely I felt that another hole would take me away from this place forever, never to come back, and to my final fate. I also was fortunate enough to learn the identity of the individual calling me back, as well as the deity he worshipped and his general demeanor.

Coming to is also an experience to behold, as the air rushes into your lungs again for the first time in days (in my case, longer in others) and you’re able to smell the stink of your own decay (which by the way does wash cleanly off with a good bath). Though all these are merely after-effects of being raised, as you do come back in (at least my case) your full glory, I can only assume this is because you enter your body as the damage is being repaired.

Thing is, none of this was really all that surprising or exciting (remember, being dead is a very dull ordeal), it was what happened after; involving who raised me, why, and how the hell I got here. I’ll have to get back though on that one, I have some things to attend to.