Entry 4: Experiences in Small Ville (pt. 1)

Collected Pages from Pindleton's Journal

This entry comes several days after our time in Small Ville (Note: This is the proper, less racist moniker of the gnome encampment. Must us gnomes be seen only for our size, or our more eccentric brethren? Alas. The human race is truly dense.) I must continue the narrative where I left off in the last entry.

After we had regrouped, and doused the flames that consumed Buck, we found the body of this “professor.” This man was naked, his pubic and facial hair smoldering from the alchemists’ fire he had lobbed at us. Although he was nude, there were still several interesting features around his body. He wore a thin rope like a sash – I found a metal tablet dangling from this sash. He also had a leatherbound book full of formulai and equations. I assume them to be excerpts from an alchemists book, or perhaps extracts from his own concoctions

(note: These experimental equations and formulai may be dangerous. I must only attempt to use them on strangers. Preferably weak or feeble minded strangers.)

In a small pouch, we also recovered 2 flasks of green liquid (which I believe to be acid) and 2 flasks of orange liquid (which I take to be Alchemists fire).

While rooting around the body, Tigen was able to find a potion of cure light wounds. I am not sure where he found it or which orifice he pulled it out of.

At this point, Jack T. Buck, who was already scorched from our previous encounter, discovered a small box in the alchemist professor’s lair. Upon shaking this box, it exploded in his hands, knocking all of us back and throwing Buck through a wall. The fellow, now temporarily deaf and fully covered in flames yet again, began screaming and thrashing, destroying anything he could reach.

While the others attempted to help Buck, I stepped aside to examine these boxes. I was able to find another one containing 2 stones with runes on them. Using my powers of deduction, I was able to construe that these are Thunderstones, which explode upon agitation. I also chanced upon a masterworked alchemist lab.

We then spent entirely too much time attempting to coax answers out of our badly-burned gnome friend. (Note: Her name is Bizswazzle. A name so steeped in Valley-gnome culture that I cringe writing it). She continued to ask me if I was a person by the name of “Bizswiggle.” I admit that, aside from the intense burns covering her body, she was quite comely. However, my companions grew tired of her nonsensical chattering and set off to the mine at the edge of town.

This mine had been sealed, ostensibly to protect its inhabitants from the crazed professor. We fit the Thunderstones into the pile of rubble blocking the entrance, and stood back. I then procured my crossbow, and took aim at the thunderstones. Inspiration swelled up within me, and I was able to strike the stones on my first shot. The ensuing explosion cleared the entrance of the mine. However, Jack T. Buck, in his dazed and deaf state, did not understand what was happening, and stood too close to the blast radius. He also did not hear our shouts and cries, and when he turned to the explosion, he was struck in the gut by a sizable chunk of rock. This bowled him over and led to another bout of screaming rage.

At this point, we decided it would be best to leave Buck and Bizswazzle outside of the mine. In their weakened states, they may not have been able to survive any future encounters. Dougal, in a display of patience, waited outside of the mine and tended to Buck and Bizswazzle.

Inside the mine, we encountered supremely odd folk. The vast majority of them were kind and well-meaning, if a good deal simple in the head. But it would seem the professor was not the only eccentric lunatic in the town.

Alas, I must continue this entry another day, for the fire already grows dim. Krawaal and Tig are wrestling beside the fire, while Dougal and Buck wager on their matches. Turok is working on a new song to commemorate the Kolonian landing in Grex, attempting to implement “harsh vocal stylings” to represent the cold hardness of this land.

I shall continue this entry in the morning. For now, I shall rest.


RJONeil Toninasty

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