This isn’t over, Hawklight. I’ve seen through your ineptitude, and if you think I will leave the fate of any creature in your hands, you are gravely mistaken. I know a wererat back home that treats his enemies better than you treat those in your custody. You have no excuse! You shame the bird after whom you are named!
I do not believe that the entire Order of Heironeous will hunt me down if I take the other goblin, and if they do, they were our prisoners first. All that we brought back were our prisoners. Hemming was our prisoner, and we left him in the custody of Doster for questioning. The goblins were our prisoners, and we left them in the custody of Doster for examination and healing regarding the current situation. Hemming and one of the goblins is dead. Half of the prisoners we left to Doster are now dead. If that doesn’t wake someone up back in headquarters, then there is no hope for the lot of them.
Even if I have to kidnap the remaining goblin, he will not remain with the paladins. His life is in jeopardy, and I will not stand by this injustice.
In other news, I am making progress with my research. Although the news of Ghorg’s death is informative, it was a wasted effort. These are the magic types that Master Gerard would call “lazy magic,” meaning they rely too heavily on their magical arts for mundane things. Instead of studying this illness and proceeding, they immediately throw magic at it. When the magic fails, they are left without a Plan B. Same goes for a magic user that blows through all his magical energy without thought of needing things for later. It is foolish and often suicidal. In this case, it was homicidal.
I have given the victims names. Ghorg is the previously noted Goblin C, Rotfoot is the previously noted Goblin B, Murch is the previously noted Goblin A, and Tim is the previously noted Troll. They are people too, and it is so easy to forget that when you’re dealing with something different than you. I thought I was pretty good with the goblin names, but I confess I know little of troll names. I know they are not their real names, and I would be happy to find out their real names and call them by those, for that means we have cured them.
Getting the troll out will be difficult, nigh impossible to do without Thunk and the others. If we have a way to roll the cage, though, with the semi-cart that Francis and Larry are hopefully working on, we can at least move him once he’s at the surface. I am not sure what his disposition will be if we can cure him, but hopefully, he will at least be moderately friendly towards us. Having a troll as a best friend could be a great boon, and Deneva and Thunk can speak Giant. I wonder if any of my companions speaks Goblin. I have heard that some goblins speak Giant, Gnoll, Elven, and Orc, and my companions speak those. If I’m really lucky, maybe one of them will speak Draconic, but that is slim.
How does one explain to Thunk that the paladins don’t have the goblins’ best interests at heart? If they did, they would have taken them and the troll to Heironopolis with Nado and the infected paladin. The goblins and troll are expendable because of the form and culture in which they were born. They are just as much victims in this as Nado and the paladin, probably taken from their homes and experimented on. They probably had friends that were also taken and didn’t survive the process. Murch and Rotfoot are now missing one of their clansmen, and the gods only know how many were killed for them to be taken.
To the paladins, they are fodder. I bet they didn’t even feel bad for the one they caused to explode. Why should they? He was just a goblin?
The whole mess disgusts me.
I swear to Boccob, if the men and women of Hextor are just as incompetent, I might lose my mind and claw them all from the face of the earth.
I was looking forward to the party, probably more than the others. We’ve done a lot of work for these people, and I was excited to have a hot meal and wine. I know the ‘no weapons’ rule bothered Korwindel and Deneva, as it should. In my experience, however, it’s only illegal if they catch you with it. I don’t look like it, but I spent a good couple of years stealing my food. I couldn’t get back into Master’s tower, and suddenly I was outside with no clothes that fit, no food, and no money. No one wanted to give anything that looked like I did the time of day, let alone something substantial.
My wererat friend taught me that business. He can be a sonofabitch to those he doesn’t know, but he’s really solid once you earn his respect. By Boccob, I wonder what he’s going by now. He changes his name at least three times a month. I’m not even sure he knows what his real name is. I need to talk to him about some really nice lock-picking tools. He’s highly resourceful, especially at obtaining less than legal things.
Speaking of no clothes that fit, I might be taking Deneva shopping whenever we get to Ignavus. I could use with a few new clothes as well, especially now that I can afford that Whimsey Shire Cotton that supposedly feels like a cool summer’s breeze upon one’s skin…feathers. Maybe it’ll help me out with my flying lessons to wear clothes that feel like a cool summer’s breeze. Yes, I know that’s irrational. Makes more sense than Doster Hawklight!
At the party, I had some wine. It was supposed to be me proving to Korwindel that alchemy is not witchcraft, and for a moment, I entertained that I had numbed my own tongue for about a minute, but nothing I had put in there would have contracted that much of the numbing agent by casual contact with another component.
A wizard with retarded speech is a screwed wizard. I should start making adjustments for this weakness.
I was disappointed that Korwindel dismissed my concern so easily. Let down. Hurt, maybe? Maybe I am growing too attached to these people. Maybe I was stupid to think that I could have friends. Here is a man who wants to learn to kill wizards, and there’s nothing to say that the first one he’ll try and take down will be me. Should I risk it? I cannot guard myself from him very well now, and he’s proved that if he wanted to pick someone off, he could do it in a gravity-defying fashion.
I saw him talking to the guards, and he made him drink from the wine bottle. The guard tried to toss his glass, but Korwindel made him slurp it all down. The guard didn’t stick around quickly after that, which verifies that it was not my doing. Thank Boccob for palette-cleansing ginger.
When the Locusts struck, my pillow of doom was at hand. I’d not checked it in, and the wine made me paranoid. The pillow itself looks fairly harmless when it’s not being hurled at great speeds. You can barely notice the nails in it! With that and all the cutlery in a ten foot radius, I’m ready to fork some shite up. I just have to pretend they’re all Doster. It will be simple.