Session 5, Ndrak

N'Drak research notes 2, Twin Villages, Under Five Kings Mountain

We did it. Mr Glassgrinder, me, and my regular companions in the forms of Mellaril, Aetoin and Kolkar went back. Back and through the fungus cave, into what previously was a minor shaft that was now sizable enought to fit even a cave worm. Being in no physical condition to climb (this weird fungus body of mine still feels strange and weak, though it seems to be showing signs of getting better, though I suspect I'll always be on the fragile end of bodies, as Leshy go) I was happy to find out that Gecko Grip still functions, even if it is with odd fungus tendrils now.

I digress. Mr Glassgrinder's odd sense for where his ancestor's dagger was aimed itself at two spots, and the cave we found ourselves in obligingly presented us with two directions, one of which being further down. Having no way of truly knowing what we'd be in for, we picked the one that seemed most likely not to put us too much further into the cave system.

What we found there was a ruined village, with decently sized (well, to a former kobold/current leshy) skeletons of some sort of reptilian ancestry. We made friends with some of the creatures there, informed a couple of slightly more predatory ones that we'd leave them alone if they did us the same courtesy (on pain of death and/or pain, as one does). We also found two other, stranger things, the first of which being a larger building with a trapped door, creepy dolls, some undead, a gnome's corpse, and the larger mannequin-like doll she'd managed to power with the pommel and ancestral spirit of Taargick's clan. She's still in there by the way, corrupting it. We'll have to do something about that.

The second was in a certain sense less worrying: a xulgath tied to a pillar, with some oversized scavengers menacing his feet and the creatures we politely intimidated out of our way earlier heading for his head. After dealing with that (and observing the slight nervous twitch the elf developed upon seeing and smelling a xulgath, some memory from another timeline or some other occult nonsense) the xulgath informed us about a number of things, namely the sizable population of his people, the fact that surviving the hungering stone he'd been tied to for three days made him innocent or favoured or some such thing in the eyes of Zevgavizeb. Zebgavizeb, whose altar the chief of the xulgath tribe sacrificed things on, using the other bit Taargick's dagger. The altar, that turned out to be a mimick, something our friend spotted, talked about, and got himself tied to the rock for. The chief worked with the mimick, but now had a new friend: a basilisk. Long story short, we allied with the mimick, it ate the basilisk and the chief, our new xulgath friend became the new chief and gave us a collection of pricey boubles to stay away. And the dagger, and the basilisk's skull, which was nice, because mass murder of xulgaths is probably not something Apsu would approve of, even though they are rather unpleasant.

Closing notes: Odd memories of a time I didn't exist yet but clearly did because I remember my time as a nature spirit keep coming back and/or into existence. I found out some of the odd scripts I can read and intuïtively know how to speak are Fey and Aklo, which has me slighty worried about the surroundings of my old home, if -that- is a language my leshy spirit knows. Additionally, I think I've managed to find a way to get the alchemical recipes I craft from my new fungus body to last for way longer than mere moments.

Closing notes on king Taargick: We hallucinated (violently) about a giant purple worm screeching his name (if I were a mammal I'd have things to say about that) and causing earthquakes, dropping rocks on (it seemed) me specifically and additionally slightly setting all of us on fire. We talked it down. Hopefully cleansing the dagger from necromantic gnome, washing the sacrificial knife, and reassembling the thing helps a little. I think I should be able to be of relevant assitance there. For now, we have a party to attend to, and I can no longer drink in the regular sense. Instead, I find myself feeling the urge to go and sit in the sack of rotten grain we found. It does smell lovely.