From the Annals of Habib Al Taib

Entry IV

We managed to overcome incredible fatigue, pushing our bodies to the limits of their endurance both physically and with the aid of magics. Thankfully it bought us the precious time we needed in order to save the Formian Miramar. We arrived just in the knick of time as the Sladdi were mounting their final assault. Our intelligence was correct in that the Sladdi were indeed masquerading as humans. So effective was their deception that I myself was almost fooled as the commander issued orders to his men to, “kill the Sladdi,” when he spotted our approach. Fortunately my companions were not fooled, although in my defense many of their number did indeed retain a human form after having been dealt death. I suspect that these peoples were unknowing pawns in an elaborate game conjured by the Sladdi. However since we did not have time to determine potentially confused persons from bloodthirsty assassins, we chose the easier path of general eradication. I must state that even despite this seemingly easier course of action, we barely made it out with our lives, and it was in the arms of my friends, the greater air elementals that we managed to acquire our target and escape, leaving his brethren behind. In an unusual display of charity, Miss Amber Sessions covered our escape with her life. I did not manage to summon another ally in time to rescue her from her predicament, but her sacrifice did indeed buy us the precious seconds we needed to make our escape. Justina also left her life behind, but not without having given our enemies a taste of steel and strings.

We returned to the Formian hive without incident, our charge having shown us a shortcut to the lair of her queen. We were indeed much thanked, and rewarded with the knowledge that Shadownthrone’s ritual was doomed to fail if one wielding another rod piece claimed the Seerdomain as his home. Shadowthrone's ritual will fail, and as such it will take him yet another week to complete a new one. The queen was good enough to provide us with magical transportation to and back from the Temple of the Old Man, whereupon we resurrected our fallen companions.

And so it was after a quick ritual of devouring something which tasted much like ant feces, that we became native to the Seerdomain. The queen had warned us of potential side effects causing us to perhaps take on some Formian traits. Hoping to acquire one of these powers I did not fight the nausea which overcame me as I ate. The result is that I became sick and unchanged. Kay and Justina were the only ones to acquire traits. It appears that Kay is immune to poison, small price to pay for the mandibles at his jaw. Justina’s eyes took on a completely black coloration. It doesn’t affect her eyesight however, her wounds heal almost instantly. Larger wounds do take longer for sure, but minor knicks and cuts disappear in a matter of seconds. It also appears that they have developed a lesser telepathic link with each other permitting them to warn one another from danger should they be close by. The next assassin who tries and rip them up from behind will be met with a nasty surprise indeed.

I took the opportunity to attempt a link with my familiar Duke Devil, but it appears that the connection doesn’t work across planes. This is something worth remembering for my escape from the bowels of hell.

We have just been called to an audience with the Queen again. It appears she has new intelligence to share with us. I shall return shortly to relate the details of our next expedition.

I am feeling a bit melodramatic these days. I know the causes. The only solutions seem to be time and mastery of my emotions. I will prevail. I have no other choice but to. Like it or not these things will pass, perhaps to be replaced by something else which will also pass. That is the way of things. Life… is a beautiful thing even in its twisted intricacies which so do make us melodramatic. And besides, I have not yet known real anguish. I pray that I never will. I am spoiled. Even in my wallowing I am grateful. Man I hate myself when I am like this. Drama bad. Bad Admiral!

Last weekend I managed to detach myself from the computer screen and spend some time outdoors. I don’t know what drove me except for perhaps a sense of feeling sorry for myself after the multitude of time spent playing KOTR2. But I digress. (I liked it by the way).

The primary motivator for this short journey outside of my apartment is my good friend Nissou, who I’d much rather call Miss Chokesondick, but for fear of offending her, and other people, I chose the former nickname.

Our destination was the Jean Talon marketplace, a bustling collection of tents and stores, out in the open, just like in many European countries. The food is delicious, fresh and cheap due to the vast amount of competition which goes on in this compressed space. There are Lebanese, Quebecers, Latin Americans, Haitians, French, Asians, a true melting pot of cultural diversification and energy. It reminds me much of the market places in France in which I used to spend hours exploring with my grandparents whenever I would go visit. They don’t make em like this anymore, and I fear that such gatherings are becoming more and more scarce due to economic development. Whilst I could argue for hours about weather it is efficient or not to have such market places, and I don’t think its profitable for the seller to setup a stand given the multitude of identical kiosks, there is a cultural consideration in the old school sense.

Nissou and I walked among the energy of the people, the fish seller yelling his prices to the people, attempting to attract attention, samples of fresh fruits and vegetables laid our to entice the potential customer. She purchased some vegetables and fruits, I bought some BBQ sausages which were exquisite. We finally ended up in a Butcher shop where she purchased some Saucisses de Toulouse, whilst I acquired two sexy Saucissons d’Auvergne. I think I burnt a hole in my stomach shortly after arriving home and consuming one of them in a matter of hours with my Opinel knife.

Nissou is from France, and I know she dosen’t feel completely at home in Montreal sometimes. That day a certain peace and optimism radiated from her. I think some of it rubbed off on me.

Culturally I am more American than French. Actually I am neither given my peculiar upbringing, however this trip made me realize that there is a significant part of me which identifies with the French side. I find this odd because I generally don’t get along too well with the French, and hence tend to be rather detached from that part of me. Except for the Mediterranean gastronomy. I am accused, and rightfully so, of picking and choosing my background and culture to whatever situation I choose. Multiculturalism is fantastic.

When I first came to Montreal I was put into a Frosh group at McGill University. Most of these people were just temporary friends, and I never did bond with any of them at any particular level. I do, however, recall some drunk woman hitting on me during the first five minutes of meeting, and then not speaking to me for the duration of the two weeks. I never figured out why. Never mind I am digressing.

I met a man named Eddie. I chose to name him by his real name since Eddie is a common enough name to be attributed to any random person in my world, but his name is unimportant now. In fact I could be wrong and maybe it wasn’t Eddie who showed me this. Anyways the point is that McGill sent us to an Expos baseball game back before they left Montreal, and as method of transportation, we chose the metro, it being convenient and quick. Most metros in Montreal arrive from the left side of the track. If you stand about a foot or so from the edge on the left side whilst the metro comes, you get whipped violently by the rush of air as it zips past you. The rush is an incredible feeling. I know it’s stupid, but I love standing close to the edge and doing it. I am no thrill seeker. I am afraid of heights and violent speeds. But it brings me joy

People commit suicide by throwing themselves in front of a whooshing metro. I wonder if anyone has wanted to jump but been deterred by the thrill I get from this rush. I sometimes think I can see through the eyes of a desperate soul, witnessing the last moments before a life is snuffed out by itself. I don’t understand. I am very fearful of death, but it can make me alive.

I encourage no one to try this sort of thing. It is dangerous and probably illegal.

From the annals of Habib al’Taib, Wasteland Druid of Dejiy

Entry II

The day has been as harsh as the tales of Akaron would suggest. This is not a place for the weak. It is not even a place for the strong. Akaron is a land of perpetual warfare where armies rise and fall at every moment. There can be no peace in this place, only conflict and bloodshed. Only those truly gifted in both body and mind could hope survive here. Akaron is as tough as it is cunning. And it takes a fool to embark on our mission.

I am writing after a hellish day of bringing us ever closer to our mark. Our path has been obstructed by devils, demons, and strange elemental creatures I chose not to investigate too closely lest we waste more time. Tzadzik has fallen again, this time upon the spear of an Ice Devil. I should not have sent him in too closely. I shall bring him back when we complete our mission for I have not the time to perform the ceremony. Time is becoming critical. We are making steady progress, but who would have known that the Seer domain would be so difficult to reach. I am spent physically, emotionally, and magically; my friends fatigued by the rigorous demands of our trip. One can walk for days without stopping, however flying requires the use of all limbs and a tail to stay aloft. Thankfully the gravity between the cubes is forgiving enough so that we may keep a steady pace without collapsing of exhaustion. We have but three days left.

My friends and I have decided that the best course of action would be to contact the Fomorians and attempt to workout a deal, however Edyleen’s intelligence tells us that they have been recently molested by Slaadi, disguised as human warriors. Our initial contacts will probably be violent, however I have faith that we will be able to make them see our point of view. After all the worst that can happen is that their Queen will scan our minds and use us to achieve the same ends we seek. I am not over concerned.

I am grateful, for the day has brought us upon a vast cube teeming with life. It is good to feel the grass again, and such a haven brings me hope that Akaron is not yet completely consumed by destruction and death. I will rest now, for tomorrow may prove to be yet another grueling ordeal.

Entry III

Estand is fool. One sometimes wonders how a powerful servant of the God of war could be so incompetent in diplomacy. We arrived at the Seer domain with great difficulty costing us a small fortune to the God of war. With the help of his servant we managed to escape another intrusion from the minions of Chaos. Our arrival to the Seer domain was quick, and I had another chance to relax before landing on its surface. We quickly encountered a dispatch of Fomorians and attempted contact. Since Estand is capable of communicating with the creatures, it was up to him to plead our case. And so when the Fomorians took control of my mind I was confident that we would eventually be scanned for information, and the truth learned. Not so. Estand fought off the enchantment, which might not have been a bad idea after all, until he managed to make contact with them and turned us into their servants. The Queen still has no idea of Shadowthrone’s plans, or capabilities should he succeed, and now we are off on some fool mission to eradicate the Slaadi, with not 2 days left before he completes the ritual. He insists it would not have made a difference. Fool. We have no time. The words “ritual” or even “complete defeat of Law as we know it” did not once cross his mind. Grand strategist indeed. I think the worst part of it all is that I was under the enchantment of the Fomorians and hence incapable of speaking for him. Next time I will know better.

For now we are on our way to fight Slaadi and recover a Fomorian Taskmaster as proof of our intentions to the Queen. She knows only that we are on, “Some important quest for the forces of Law” or something rather. Since we have no time, we have had to fly all day pushing ourselves to the edge of endurance. I seem to be holding up ok, but the rest of my companions have had to be sustained by magical means. We have no time. We cannot in two days fly back to the Fomorians, then to Iron Fortress and defeat him. The ritual will be complete and when that happens he will be able to search for us. Finally the final holder of the rod piece will come after us rather than us to him or her. Anyway the damage is done, what will come will come. It is unfortunate that the events seem to be even beyond the influence of the Gods themselves. Praying the Huntress for guidance is bringing me no reassurance whatsoever.

There are times when I think that certain things in life are like going to a swimming pool in the spring, begging for a semblance of summer. The swimming pools, during these periods, are full and free during the week, cheap during the weekends. I spend hours every summer bathing in the collective juices of humanity, straining for physical superiority over the people I water wrestle with. I try to swim every day when the weather permits because its fun, and indoor pools just don’t do it for me. However I am digressing.

Firstly. Without loss of generality I will assume that most people, including myself usually find pool water to be cold upon entry. Secondly, I assume that there exists a continuum of methods for pool entry, the extremes of which lie in either throwing one’s self in whilst screaming ,”Geronimo!” and the slower method of careful insertion into the water. I further assume that the latter takes longer time to achieve than the former. That being said agents are faced with the difficult decision of choosing a method of pool entry which minimizes desired level of pain experienced at insertion, and the amount of time it takes to do it, thereby maximizing the level of “fun” experienced by a trip to the swimming pool. (Note: At this stage of my analysis I am still drawing the analogy exclusively to swimming pools).

I don’t know about you guys but I choose to throw myself in. It hurts like hell, but you get over it much faster, leaving you more time spent beating the living crap out of your buddies under water.

Despite the feathers, I could feel the droplets of sweat dripping from my beak, onto the ground thirty feet below. As in the past we had triumphed again, but what about next time? No, no time to think, people are injured and I dive-bombed below to my wounded friends. The creature we had just scared off was a Horned Devil, and after defeating his minions he’d fled the battle, but at what cost? I had revealed our nature and purpose to the thing, and no doubt it would be reporting our presence to its master. No doubt our target knew we were coming after him. I felt foolish for my mistake, very foolish indeed believing that the thing would acquiesce to an unwilling slave of a Duke of Hell.

As I began tending to the wounded we spoke of our course of action. Much of my magic had been spent in the fight, and there was no doubt that we would have to rest before reaching our mark. Akaron is a dangerous place for resting, and there is little safety in this world. Valenkel informed us of a means to returning to the temple of the Old Man for rest, but that would result is the loss of two days, and we had but six left to complete our mission.

As we argued, another evil agent made an appearance. The creature was large and ugly, with gargantuan mammaries which sagged almost to the floor, and tiny wings which I knew could serve imperfectly in flight. A Malfeshne. “Beware its illusion,” I managed before transforming into a bear. Tzadik, Kay and, Amber charged in whilst Valenkel fired an arrow.

We came out even more weary than before having defeated two supernatural agents and their minions, one right after another. I patched everyone up as best I could and turned us into birds so that we would be on our way, muttering a plea to the Huntress to guide us to our prey unchallenged. I should have asked louder.

Our next impasse came in the form of a giant wasp swarm so thick that we were unable to keep our mighty breakfast down. However Estand had done his work well, and despite the nausea the poisonous stings did not affect my friends. I do not fear poison myself. I also learned that day that hell wasps have a substantial resistance to fire, and It was only after hitting Valenkel with a fiery aura that they dispersed. Once again we were on our way.

Our destination was that a world which belonged to shadow elves. I know not much about the race, but Valenkel insisted that its peoples knew the location of our mark. Upon arriving we organized a shelter molded from the rocks itself. Valenkel was turning out to be more useful than just a guide, and he fashioned a crude dome for us to rest in before continuing our journey. Our respite was interrupted only by a brief encounter between Kay and some bipedal creature which I did not recognize. It had been content to warn us to stay out of its way. It seemed to think that we should know it by reputation, but not being from these lands I knew not its race or purpose, nor did any of our company. We were content not to fight it and recover our strength. The following morning I communed with the natural forces of the Cube, and determined the location of an unnatural formation in the vicinity. We moved towards it, hopping it to be a shadow elven settlement.

She did not give us her name, but it became quickly clear that she was the mistress of the world which we had landed on. My friends and I are not people of great eloquence, but all things considered we did manage to keep a relatively non-insulting appearance. We offered gold as the price for the information we sought, and were guided to an elven woman who had just returned from a reconnaissance mission on Shadowthrone’s cube. Her name was Edilene, and just as we were about to obtain the information we sought did a dart pierce her neck rendering her incapable to defending herself. The assassins were the creatures which Kay had encountered earlier, and they did not attack us having considered us fearful of their presence. Their overconfidence cost them the battle, and although the leader escaped, Edilene remained unharmed.

Shadowthrone lives on the Cube called the Seerdomain, however his power over the cube is far from perfect as he is challenged by a fomorian matriarch for mastery of the world. He considers her a mere pest, and as such, has not checked her power, working diligently on mastering the Rod of Seven Parts. It is a ritual which we came to prevent. It is why he must die. We were also provided with a map of the Seerdomaine. If we move fast enough it will remain in its current location, although Shadowthrone is by now warned of our quest to eliminate him. It is said he is a descendent of a Dragon God, and master creator of powerful weapons, a true genius in the art, capable of dishing out items rivaling the power of the Sword of Kings or Bloodthirster of Krook Ma’Kali. Normally I would not interfere with such powerful forces, however mother earth has chosen me as its representative as protector Tellene, and no one else is qualified to do the job. I’m also bound to the Duke, by no will of my own. I can still recall glimpses of the torments I endured at his hand. My only hope is that Kassali has worked out something. He’s had ten years dammit, and he had to disappear on me again. So now I am left a slave of a most unnatural beast.

No man, that’s enough quit it, stop worrying. Life is to be taken one step at a time. Resolve this issue, then worry about something else. There is no time, and right now the order of things is more important than my soul. The status quo must be maintained. I am an agent of life. If I am to suffer an eternity of torment in her service I will. I have faith in her mercy. I will prevail.