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Sivis Gazette; the Sunday Eberron campaign's Journal
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Below are the 11 most recent journal entries recorded in Sivis Gazette; the Sunday Eberron campaign's LiveJournal:

Thursday, July 24th, 2008
9:40 am
Game stuff, also posted to my journal;

Okay, so Sunday we are without the Mundstocks. I'm led to understand that Mike is focused on other stuff, and Cedar is up in Berkeley. That leaves me, Jason, Brendan, and possibly Sianmink.

Kensan is willing to run Paranoia and has also discussed running a paragon level 4e game - just so we can poke at what life is like after 10th level. I actually would be more stoked about 4e (but that's basically selfishness; I don't think I have a good enough sense of humor to really do Paranoia well).

Would people be interested in either game?

And, if we did 4e, what level would people want to play at?
Thursday, June 26th, 2008
10:00 pm
O Toliver, Toliver!
Kal's in an undisclosed location, feeling bored and needing an outlet for his drunken creativity. And what better outlet than to honor (?) the fallen. And so, with no slight meant to more capable bards in the company, begins the ode to the faithful Toliver

Upon the hills and vales of Valenar
A figure stands alone upon a hill,
A warrior by the name of Toliver
Who longs to fight the fight and share the kill

(Regardless of the fact that as of late,
He's found beneath the wagons bunkered down,
Once fled from both the battle and his fate,
Mayhap from this to make his people proud?)

He fiercely stands to arms and leads the charge
(As long as someone stronger goes before)
And taunts the foe with arrows to the targe,
Then distances himself to taunt them more.

O Toliver, o Toliver, alas!
To read from yonder scroll and seal your doom!
When ever-greater sagas come to pass,
That simple page becomes the warrior's tomb!

And you yourself have saved from the commode
That whisked us to this unfamiliar place
To usher in adventure yet untold
In lands unspoken in uncertain space.

Perhaps, indeed, you are the lucky one
To go so valiantly and yet so swift
In hopes to undo that which once was done;
Your name to untold age will be a gift.

O Toliver, o Toliver, live strong
In whatsoe'er place you may be now
Mayhaps your erstwhile comrades you'll prove wrong
And let your valor be forever known.

Current Mood: contemplative
Sunday, April 27th, 2008
11:14 pm
What's another name for pirate treasure?
Here's what we got off the Sable Drake other than the ship herself;
  • 1800 GP
  • 9 x gems - 3 x 100 gp, 4 x 50 gp, 1 x 200 gp, 1 x 500
  • Tarred hemp rope - "Caulking of Repair" which can repair a 10' x 10' area of deck
  • Wineskin, produces various liquors
  • Enchanted cask of preservation, contains perfectly preserved smelly cheese
  • 3 x PO Cure Light Wounds
  • 2 x Crystal Goblets, which may refrigerate contents
  • Non-magical Silver dagger
  • Non-magical Ivory elephant - worth 100 gp
  • Non-magical black oil
  • Rolled up leather bundle with quality thieve's tools (+2)
  • Navigation charts including course to Sahuagin Reef
  • Goblin-Sahuagin Dictionary and Phrasebook

Additionally, we each scored 1100 plus individual awards as appropriate.
Monday, February 18th, 2008
10:55 am
Devious Journal Entry
I had some spare time while watching the con's Hospitality Suite this weekend, and hopefully I got the party more or less right.

Sunday adventuring party
by ~Pachycrocuta on deviantART
Tuesday, December 4th, 2007
12:24 pm
Jeddek Blackthorne - our latest travelling companion, Jeddek is a blue-dyed minotaur artificer who probably hails from Argonessen. None of us seem to be entirely certain.

List o' plunder;

  • 6 x dragonshard books
  • 1 stylus for inscribing dragonshards
  • 40 gp
  • +1 chain shirt
  • Materwork chain shirt
  • 5 x poisoned throwing knives
  • Ring of Invisibility - can we give this to Ali? I mean, halfling rogues and rings of invisibility are traditional.
  • Dagger of Venom
  • 3 x po Cause light wounds
  • Broach of Shielding - I want it, but it had probably best go to Melody, Anni or Cal.
  • 2 x unidentified amulets
  • 2 x holy symbols of the Blood of Vol, 50 gp each. Good luck fencing that.
Monday, November 5th, 2007
9:52 am
The Plunder List
10/21 session;

  • Wanted poster (1000 gp for the crew of... er... we still are waffling on the name of our ship)
  • 900 gp
  • Chainmail +1
  • Studded leather +1
  • 6 arcane wands.

    • Lesser Firework - 2 charges
    • Hold Person - 1
    • Sleep - 9
    • Cure Light - 6
    • Repair Light - 9
    • Charm Person - 9

  • Bracers +2
  • 2 Potions of Cure Moderate Wounds
  • Masterwork scimitar
  • Masterwork battleaxe
  • Everburning torch

11/04 Session;

  • 100 pp
  • Silver comb
  • Gloves with jasper
  • Ring (hidden in glove) with quartz crystal

The NPCs from the Wayfarer's Guild are;
Eckbert - paladin
Kadda - priest
Gunnar - warforged merc
Aldferb - Brelish dwarf professor
Seowulf - sailor, missing in palace
Danulf - gnome "professional treasure hunter"
Friday, October 26th, 2007
11:12 pm
Kal's Ramblings Part 2: Messin' with Argonessen
(or Stop Dragon My Heart Around)

I may drink too much, Malachor, but at least I don't . . . drink . . . too much!

Where was I (or more to the point, where am I)? It's very cold, and once again I've managed to find a pub and a captivated (or at least captive) audience for tales of little import about times long past. All of which means it's time for . . .

Kal's Ramblings! (The truth hurts. Don't worry though, this'll feel good.)

It is of course no secret that during our early adventures in Zilargo, and through no small effort of my own, we managed to rescue an adorable draconic infant from certain death (or worse) at the hands of vile cultists. I won't bore you with the details of that. This began a long-standing and profitable relationship with the, er, eccentric reptilian rulers of that most-underrated of vacation spots, the draconic continent of Argonessen.

So . . . what happened? Why are we no longer rescuing hatchlings and retreiving weird and wacky wonders for those wonderfully whimsical wyrms? Two words: diplomatic mission.

So the ever-wise and prudent powers-that-be on aforementioned dragon continent decided in their great wisdom to send us on a diplomatic mission to Breland. The mission was simple; represent the dragons' interests at the upcoming negotiations, and on the side to retreive a dangerous magical flute from the Nymph of the Undead. Both of which goals we met . . . well, not at all.

It's difficult to tell where the trouble actually started in Breland. It might have something to do with the time I got so drunk on the potent Breland wine that I morphed into Nunzio and actually thought I was him (fortunately, he'd had the wisdom to retire early; still, I don't think the poor dwarf will ever live that down.)

It might have something to do with the mysterious disappearance of the brave but dangerous Wolf, Argonessen's appointed ambassador, somewhere on the road. (For once I don't know and had nothing to do with it.)

Or it might have had something to do with the indentured former assassin who we forced to wear the diplomatic dunce cap and clean up after a room full of lettuce-fed conjured rabbits (It's probably best that you don't ask about that one.)

And then there was this girl. Well, I guess there's always this girl, but there was something special about this one. Well, I guess there's always something special about her, but . . . well, it's easier to show than to tell.
(several gasps erupt as Kal takes the form of a slender and bestial woman with fur on her forearms and jaws. She stands up, meets the myriad eyes that have suddenly affixed to her, and says defensively)
Oh, what?! Like you've never seen a strange grey man turn into a shifter girl before? Please, I'm trying to tell a story here! (Kal returns to his natural form and his chair and continues)
Her name was Almira, and she was a diplo . . . oh, let's not sugar-coat it. She was a spy from my native Eldeen reaches. Naturally, after assuring myself she was not out to kill us, I was delighted to make her acquaintance. That's when I started . . . sort of . . . pretending to be a dragon. You know, to impress her. Ladies love dragons. Am I right, guys?
Specifically, I pretended to be Kaladarthi, a youthful and dynamic young copper noble who had taken a changeling form to personally oversee this mission. It was a perfect cover; I mean, who'd ever suspect a changeling of actually being a dragon? Of course, I was only ever able to drop hints, a claw here, a molten metal gaze there, but she got the idea. Of course, so did everyone else at the conference.

On the third day, after managing to nearly ruin peace talks while simultaneously baffle the assembly with all of our extremely personal and at times contradictory demands, the real dragons showed up. Apparently dragons don't take kindly to being badly impersonated by their minions to impress romantic prospects. Who knew? They also proved to be not as fond of rabbits as we had previously supposed. They demanded death for our gross misrepresentation of draconic interests, but in the end they settled for our immediate exile from Breland. So we headed out on the next ship. A cargo ship headed for the colorful and troubled waters of the Lhazaar Principalities. A ship on which we met the daring freelance sailors who would come to be a part of our little family. But that is another tale, best told over another ale.

As for Almira, she told me before the guards took me to look her up the next time I was in the Reaches. An invitation I fully intend to keep. In other words, another successful mission!

Current Mood: quixotic
Tuesday, October 23rd, 2007
10:22 am
Kal, you drink too much.
This is the part where I tell you about myself, what my life was like before the Day of Mourning, how I got to be here.

Well, even if I could remember it all, I couldn't tell you, not so's it would make any sense, anyway.

My family have had a farm near the border of Breland since, well practically all the way back to Galifar, and half the time we'd trade with the Brelish nearby before those stuck-ups back in Metrol.

Don't get me wrong, I were Cyre through and through - didn't I volunteer for the Third Light Auxiliaries? Hell, didn't I lose a leg at Fourth Karrnathi?

Hmm. Guess I didn't at that. I remember coming back to the farm after being wounded - heh, wasn't for the Fifteenth Mechanized and Ironhand my farm would be a lot closer to Karrnath, heh heh. Anyways, came back, worked the farm, tried to forget the war and the outside world 'till the Day.

I still don't know how I made it out of the mists, or where the face I shave in the morning came from. Hell, I don't even know what my name was, really. I know that I was cursed that day, and the curse is getting stronger - sometimes in battle it will tell me what to do. I was never more than a pikeman, myself, and I had no interest in magic, but I know things now.. I understand them, and buddy believe me, you don't want to know them either. What I'm worried about now is it calling me Lord Malachor d'Tarkanan of the Mark ... and I'm beginning to like the sound of it.

Wherever this curse came from, whatever caused it, I'm going to use this curse and not let it use me. And, wizard or Dustlord or Dragon Below itself, whatever did this to me is going to eat this curse before I die. That's all I have left.

Current Mood: moody
Sunday, September 23rd, 2007
6:12 pm
Kal's Ramblings volume 1: In the Grey
Part one of a log of, well, Kal's ramblings (some of which might be true)

(Kal, a slim, wiry changeling, leans over a round table nursing a pint of red ale in a dingy pub in Cliffscrape, smiling and laughing, telling his tale to anyone who happens to listen.)
You've probably noticed I'm not like the other changelings you've seen (and believe me, you've seen plenty). Most of us are ashamed to stand before you in the grey. We hide behind the faces and lives of others, never wanting to draw attention to ourselves, never wanting to be noticed. Like you can live in the shadows all your life and never catch a chill. Not me! My folks gave me a rare gift for one of my people; pride. I am what I was made to be and I have nothing to be ashamed of. Sure, it puts people off, knowing what I am, but honesty and dignity demand it.

Don't get me wrong, mind you; I'm happy to use Balinor's gift when it suits me, the hunt, or the team. I've been, among others, private eye Latch Deadbolt, House Tharask scion Tarmak the Indestructible, and half-orc cultist Misery Lavscampani. No, the difference is, I don't let these roles define me. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I was born and raised in the unspoiled splendor of the Eldeen Reaches, right outside the Towering Wood. Tiny little half-elf logging town of Mossmantle. They knew what I was, or course, just like they knew what my folks were, try as they might to look and act like the others. They knew, and they couldn't care less. They welcomed us as their own. My given name is traditional changeling, but the locals took to calling me "Windborne" for my prowess in the hunt (at least that's what they told me). Most of my childhood was spent pursuing my two greatest loves...my faith in Balinor the Hunter and the call of the towering wood...until I met my third, that is.

Her name was Lora Scilarvi, and she was a lovely honey-haired human girl who had just moved to the Reaches. We hit it off immediately and were betrothed on my 15th birthday.

But our union was not meant to be. (Kal empties the tankard in a single gulp and signals the serving wench for more) We were alone in the forest the night my life changed forever. About a dozen men in oddly-patterned cloaks surrounded us and demanded that Lora come with them. I fought tooth and nail then, as hard as I could, but in the end was left with only a concussion and a strange medallion which I later discovered was a symbol of the Dragon Below. I swore my revenge that day on the cultists, a revenge that has yet to be taken, yet a vow I will never break. I left home the next day, in search of my lady's abductors.

What I found was a brisk trade as a bounty hunter (I mean, it's only natural a hunter like myself should turn to that, especially given my, er, unique skills). Long story short, I made my way through Droaam, ever with my ear to the ground, and into Zilargo. Odd that my coin should run dry among those too small to impersonate. Fate works that way sometimes. Fate also united me there with my, er, eclectic band of comrades. As luck would have it, the powers that be in Zilargo had need of, shall we say, hired hands of a deniable sort, and they would pay good coin for the privilege. An offer I was all too eager to accept. And I was not alone.

Far off in the Talenta Plains (so I hear say from very reliable sources) a Kundarak representative named Nunzio, a stout and fearless dwarf if ever there was one, was conducting trade negotiations with the local halfling nomads when the summons from Zilargo came. Eager to help his cousins in need, Nunzio departed post-haste, accompanied by Alibah, a fine young thing (though she be more than the match for either of us in maturity and talent) with a knack for stealth and lockpicking fingers like you wouldn't believe. A few miles to the west they encountered a strange sight; a lone elf attempting to hide in the sagebrush. This was Toliver, a canny fighter of the brave and honorable Valenar. When asked about his presence here, he mumbled something about dodging the draft and was all too eager to follow them as far from Valenar as possible. And so two became three, and was soon to be five.

In western Breland, they crossed paths with a stunning bard named Melody, a minstrel of some renown despite her soft-spoken demeanor. She was presently engaged in nursing back to health a strange victim of the Day of Mourning, a farmer who went simply by the name of Malachor. He had awoken to a ravaged home with a strange and potent mark on his arm. He called it the curse; seeing it in action, the group was disinclined to argue. But he was determined to use his newfound powers for the greater good, so he as well came along.

Of course, during this time I was entrenched in Droaam, arriving at the Zil royal palace at roughly the same time as my comrades. I eyed my prospective employers and my would-be companions with a dubious eye. But hey, I decided, a gold's a gold. "I'm in," I said with a smirk.

But that's enough of me talking for one night, ain't it, folks? (Kal empties his fifth [?] tankard and slams it on the table.) I'll tell you more after I've had . . . . some . . . . . . . . (our hero elegantly slumps off his chair and falls to the floor, snoring loudly.)
Monday, August 27th, 2007
9:40 am
List o' Plunder from goblin raiding party and kuo-toa
  • 320 gp (I believe we split the gold, but none of the other treasure)
  • 2 x bottles (unidentified)
  • 2 x round black objects (unidentified)

  • 2 shortspears
  • 3 heavy wooden shields
  • 1100 gp
  • 80 pp
  • 3 white opals (800 gp each)
  • 2 pearls (100 gp each)
  • 2 black potions (alchemical, cannot read my handwriting)
  • Potion of Endure elements
  • Dwarf battleaxe
  • Dwarf ugrosh
  • 2 arcane scrolls with;

    • ventriloquism
    • mount (?)
    • message
    • (illegible)
    • rope trick

  • divine scroll with;

    • fog cloud
    • shield other
9:32 am
List o' plunder from the Cathedral of Glass
  • 160 sp
  • Crystalline dust worth 2000 gp, from astral constructs
  • ring (not yet identified)
  • scrolls with;

    • tongues
    • hypnotic pattern
    • cure moderate wounds
    • wood shape
    • dominate animal
    • speak with plants

  • crystalline rod; Rod of Body Adjustment, 40 charges, heals 2 points temp stat damage
  • bottles of;

    • magic oil of firey weapon
    • magic oil of magic bonus to weapon

  • 2000 cp (I believe Melody claimed all of the copper pieces)

Additionally a prior session granted the following bonuses;

  • Locale Binding (Cathedral of Glass)
  • Part I of the Rod of Storms, summons bound eel-creatures Xeimont and Teimos
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