With stinky fish, cheese and bottles of red wine in tow, the destination was Pinnacle. Once in town, I took the opportunity to chat with the local merchants and felt now was the prime opportunity to purchase and roast 45 whole chickens. This battling in the dungeons is hard and hungry work and the stinky fish offered none of the sustenance needed for the long journey ahead. It had merely left me feeling hollow and empty inside, not to mention ruined several buckets and killed plants of unknown origin.

Now that I am the King of Food Seasoning, it was time to visit the actual King of Pinnacle and the best opportunity presented itself while he was sleeping. Since I am draped in robes and wear a mask, stealth is my specialty.

But as I was making my way to see the King, I was interrupted by several exiled magi who felt compelled to share their plight with me. Apparently, there are some dark robed fellows going out after dark causing mischief, stealing goods and generally making a hash of things. This gives the regular magi a bad name. I was asked to discourage the Dark Magi from continuing their wicked ways. Very well, I will add that to my list, right after I see the King and drop off these infernal letters I’ve been carrying around for an age. I never should have stopped for that Postman!

The King was a bit on the addle-minded side and I kept having to introduce myself and restate my purpose for sneaking into his boudoir under the cover of darkness. But in the end, the King passed blame for all the misdeeds related to the embers onto his son. Very well, as long as someone gets jostled vigorously for their crimes, I’m not picky who it is. Simply speak the names of those responsible and give me the evidence so that I might parade it about and ruin careers. The King did precisely that, then forgot who I was and why I was there.

The Prince spends a great deal of his time in the Bastille working on strange experiments and making a nuisance of himself. The Bastille was a foul place full of all sorts of criminals, degenerates and rule breaking miscreants. This type of rabble should be put away somewhere so they don’t bother the rest of the citizenry.

It didn’t take me long to realize the Prince was not only up to some devious smuggling, but he was also employing the Dark Magi to carry out nefarious deeds. Well, that little riddle is solved.

When I approached the Prince and explained he needed to cease and desist all his evil doing, he merely laughed and conjured up his minions. This unto itself was not all that foreboding. I’ve had minions called to stop me many times. It was the fact they were at the controls of some infernal machine that prevented me from causing injury to their leader that put me in a bind. In order to throttle the Prince soundly and abscond with my evidence, an epic battle would need to be waged and glowing green devices would need to be smashed.

I admit, the first few attempts did not yield a stunning success. The Prince had the upper hand as he was able to reanimate the dead and use them against me. This caused no end of consternation for myself and my party members. Usually when you stab something dozens of times, set it on fire and harpoon it with poisonous darts, it stays down.

With poor health, low energy and boots caked in zombie extract, it was time to regroup and formulate a new plan. It was determined that a stock of Health and Energy potions would be needed and maybe grab a few of those Ironskin vials. Corra thought she was clever when she offered that a shield wouldn’t be a bad idea. Since I had the coin purse, I bought a 12-pack to go, grabbed a shield and returned for a final showdown.

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This is the worst welcome mat I have ever seen. Are they trying to spell out something?

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Ok, so this is rather a nefarious looking den you have here

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Ok, so on the whole good/bad scale, this is way out there on the bad side. If it’s glowing and shooting out beams of light, it’s usually bad.

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Well, that concludes our business for today. Let me just wipe off my boots and perhaps take a moment to have some of this roasted chicken I made earlier and then it’s time to rat you out to your father.

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

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