Our half of the Good Games Friday game is, well, a little down on numbers. At least it was last week. Maybe it’s permanent, I don’t know. Jamie (the DM) has indicated that he will become more active and we will perhaps be having less guest DMming, which has disrupted storyline a bit. I think the DM’s are still disappointed that the grand Green Crane experiment has devolved into just a couple of ordinary dnd weekly games.
This week, one of our players decided to try a CE character. I … I have a variety of things that I am not writing down nor am going to. We are not from NIDA, so roleplaying doesn’t really happen. We play our characters the way we do because that is how we want to play. Like religion, character alignment is mainly an excuse to behave as you wish, particularly when you pick one because it suits you.
Forgive the tone of this entry. My heart is heavy within me today, and I wonder for the future of our guild, even though by all appearances we have had great success.
Our escort mission is complete. Mikhail of house Cannith is back home in Fairhaven, safe and sound and on time. Milord Schwarzenegger was gracious and has granted our guild a charter to operate.
We decided to reward ourselves with some gold from the treasury. Five hundred each – an enormous sum to most, but not so much so to the various vendors of magic. We rewarded our new members the same as our veterans, as is right. One of them, Azureus, was very keen to get a battle horse. It seems that in a previous life he has had trouble with his mount bolting. A battle horse, though, is not something you simply purchase. Nevertheless, I accompanied him to the local milita compound where at least he could get some advice on the matter.
There was … there was something of a difficulty at the door, as I identified myself as being affiliated with the guild of the Green Crane. All of whom are wanted criminals now, as after our guild split the other members fired our guildhouse, which had been made an orphanage. I covered up as well as I could, and smoothed things over. I all but lied to the guards. Bitter that I must hide, and dissemble, and be ashamed of an association, a name, a sign of which I had so hoped I could one day be proud. Now my sign is no longer a noble bird of luck and good hope, but a gilded poisonous insect. All that sustains me is that despair is as great a sin as dishonour.
The stablemaster explained to Azureus that battlehorses are not simply bought. Nevertheless, a stroke of luck. She had a half-trained horse that had been rejected for want of size. The colt was something of a runt, but with all the spirit one would expect of the breed. In truth, a perfect mount for an fighter who does not use heavy armour. I advised Azureus that he would not find a better deal than “Stampy” for 200 gold (and suggested that he mention tack), and left, for I had asked at the militia after an honest merchant who could outfit our company.
At the chandler – a halfling whose name I do not recall at present – I commissioned a dozen or so simple tabards with insignia, or possibly a basic sash. Gesh was not keen on the idea – the Green Crane has made him cynical of the very idea of openly affiliating with a group. Perhaps he is right, perhaps everyone is snickering behind their hands at me. Nevertheless, we have premises, we have a charter, we have a name and a bank account, and even if our president is lying under an ale barrel as I write this by the scales of the platinum one we’ll wear a basic bloody insignia or admit we are simply a pack of bandits.
I also commissioned a [belt, gloves, or something] for myself, which I hope will come in handy and serve better than anything from Honest Abdul’s.
Our shopping done, we headed back to our hall via a more direct route than the road. We were shortly to find why the road took such a broad detour about this particular part of the world. Some strange elemental creatures of rock emerged from the hills about us, and attacked. We defeated them, and one of them had some sort of amulet. Gesh put it on, and ran into a cave in the nearby hill.
We followed. We caught up with Gesh in a worked room of some kind. He was clearly under some sort of magical compulsion and said that he “needed to be here”. A difficult and dangerous situation. Azureus attempted to snatch the amulet off him, and Gesh – of course, as you would expect by someone under a geas – defended himself with some violence. Azureus chose to attack in reply, using his powers to do so. Perhaps it is fortunate that we were assailed by creatures of elemental air.
I have not the heart to describe the rest of our adventure in that cave complex. There were elementals. We defeated them. We squabbled over loot, and at the centre of these squabbles was always Azureus, literally diving for the amulets that these elementals occasionally dropped. Even our other new member was disturbed. Finally we reached a chamber, a tomb which Vandigan told us was properly blessed. Azureus simply violated the grave. Tore it open. Inside was nothing, just an old corpse.
Occasionally, you are offered a simple choice. We ejected Azureus from the guild then and there. It was the right thing to do. But I’ll beg your pardon as I sit here, writing this journal, fully in my cups. Perhaps tomorrow will be brighter.