I am not mad.
It is the others that are mad. A strange, every-day madness – scurrying around, building homes of mud and stone and wood. Buying, selling, having families. Somehow, they make themselves blind and deaf.
We fought our way through the observatory. Creatures – demons – assailed us. We slew one, our bard charmed the other, suggesting it surrender. (Surrender? Madness!) Their language was … oddly familiar. The language of the whispers in my mind. The language of my prayers.
Behind them, a spell caster. A man? Perhaps. Hooks and piercings in his flesh. Faugh grappled him, pinned him, kept him from casting. We ignored the demons, focussing our efforts on him. He rose into the air, but Faugh did not relent. Something summoned fog onto the battlefield. I did not see who took the final blow.
And then the woman, the leader of the snow-men (odd hairy creatures) arrived on the field, swept away the fog with her magicks. “Is it done?”, she asked, “have you slain him?”. We played for time – we had come to claim an astrolabe, an armillary sphere, and an orrey, and we mean to do so. My companions moved inside the observatory, I guarded the door. “Stay back!”, I warned her, “It may be unsafe in here.”
I do not think she believed my pretence. She tried with magic to influence my mind. And a second time. “Madam,” I said, “the outer dark wards my mind against such magics”. She attacked me with a blast of snow and ice – I shrugged off the damage, Coin’s potion of Yeti-fur protecting me. But she had just revealed herself a witch, and hostile.
But the DM played the witch well. Brus looks like a big, dumb, half-orc fighter. So what do you do? Go the mind-affecting attacks. Oops – he’s actually a cleric: no wonder this shit ain’t working.
As to Brus’ odd behaviour, well, he’s chaotic, she was originally an ally we were kinda working for, and she was pretty hot. We’ve already established that he’s not a beserker. Inquisitors are driven by purpose – we had come to get particular loot, and by Yog-Sototh we were going to get them.
Then all at once, our hobgoblin companion (Morgan’s rogue) flung a strange weapon at them, setting her snow-men ablaze, and the witch ordered “kill them!”. In truth, it was always going to end thus.
Her snow-men attempted to enter the observatory. I fought and was joined. Somehow, the man with the hooks in his face reappeared! I forget the blow-by-blow of the fight: both he and the witch disappeared, became invisible. But one of the snow-men struck a mighty blow on me, his axe placed perfectly. In one blow, I was nearly done, and bleeding.
A focused my intent, my purpose, and by the power of the outer dark my wounds began to close. I called upon the dread name of Yog-Sototh (cast Divine Favour), and struck one more blow – the barbarian man was done. The field fell quiet. Both spellcasters had fled. We searched for what we came to find.
⁂ ⁂ ⁂
We found the items, which we put in Coin’s Bag of Holding, and a great telescope. Our bard William; John, the cleric of Azathoth; and I were keen to look through it. I do not know what the others saw. I looked not at the stars but at the spaces between them, and caught a glimpse. No more.
The words, the whispers – I begin to understand them. The language of the demons, of the outer truth. I prayed for the favour of The Lurker at The Threshold, The Eater of Souls, to grant me to see the unseen, to peer beneath the veil. And so it was. And is.
We will return to Coin. We will bring down the House of Limen. Our lives a brief spark of light, before each our star is consumed.
Also, a second point into linguistics to get undercommon, which Brus has been picking up from Faugh the deep gnome. Pathfinder is build so that every even level you get a feat, and every odd level a class ability, but because I took one level of fighter I will get inquisitor class abilities and feats at the same time. Still – a very handy utility spell and some extra spells per day. Not to be sneezed at.