The Campaign Builder's Guild

[note]This is the Journal of Lord Paladin Fillion Parmodius, a Paladin of the Word, his Order is dedicated to bringing law to chaos, protecting innocence and righting wrongs. These are his stories, in his words. Unfortunately, his earlier journals have been lost now for years, however this text still survives. It is written in a blessed book and filled with a potentially infinite pages upon pages of his life. It has been a lot of hard work for me to gather them together. Fortunately, as it is required in his order, he kept immaculate notes of his day to day, his memory was keen and his skill with the pen unmatched among his brethren. I have tried to do as little editing as possible. I'm going to share a few of his entries with the board, and I hope you enjoy it and would like to see me translate some more.

-Chris[/note]

[spoiler=Day 1,312]Day 1,312

Cloudcroft

Introduction
It has been three weeks since I ran out of pages in my last journal and had it delivered to the high temple. I realized that the closer and closer I get to the Wilds, the harder and harder it is to get a hold of a blank book for writing. It is important to me, as a Knight of the Word, for my story to be written down for others to follow. This is why I paid a city mage twelve gold pieces to make me an enchanted book with an infinite number of pages making this my third and hopefully final journal. Anyone who finds this book, please deliver it to the Temple of the Word in Cloudcroft, they will give you a hefty reward for this book in the event of my death.

For those who don't know, my name is Fillion Parmodius and I have been a Knight of the Word for three and a half years. It is not an easy job, bringing justice to the wild, bringing healing to the wounded, medicine to the ill, and hope to the hopeless, but it is my calling. If the priests of my order would be called the 'Mouths of the Word', then I am the 'Armored Fist of the Word.' I have been tasked with ridding the new world of its evils, and bringing light to my fellow man.

I have been staying in a small and dingy tavern in the poor side of town. Though I have gotten my hands on my fair share of coin, I choose to live a more acetic life. I find that living on only hard bread and weak stew is the best way to see life from the common man's point of view. It has a bed full of straw, better than I have had for a long time, and a full sized polished metal mirror. It has been long since I last saw myself, my beard has more grey in it now than it used to, and my face is leathery from the sun. When I take off my brown leather duster, mithril breastplate, pistols and sword I can see that my body is lined with white scars. My chest looks like a spider had crawled across it in the night and spun her web in my flesh, but each one is a badge of glory, a symbol of my dedication to the Word.

However, my dedication begins and ends with a strong sword arm, or well placed bullet. I am not interested in preaching to deaf ears of heretics. Unlike my brothers in the clergy, I understand that there is just no turning some people, and a quick ending is preferably to a long winded sermon.  

But on to the more pressing news, for two days now I have been following the trail of a known rapist. He is cagey, and obviously skilled in the dark arts. He enjoys creating an illusion of his victim's loved one and slipping into bed when the husband is away at work. He would have gone unnoticed for a lot longer had he not screwed up. He lost his hold on the illusion during the throws of passion one too many times, and now I know who to look for.

The only problem is, how could I tell if he was standing before me or not? I have spent the better part of the day trying to get a hold of the mages of the guild but I find the bureaucracy to be a pain. My rank as Paladin has little use among the godless mages and they have been slow to help me in my investigation. I will remember to press inquiries against the lot of them, to make sure no illegal trafficking with demons or worse is happening.

I will continue my hunt in the morning. This man will die. I am one hundred percent sure of that, I have already made the lead for the shot, and it has been blessed by the Word.

It has his name on it.[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Day 1,313]Day 1,313

Cloudcroft

A Summons
Had a quick breakfast of eggs (poached of course) and fresh rolls. I made sure to wake early before the sun rose so I could get my start. I am constantly amazed by Cloudcroft, it is constantly quivering like an anthill with activity. It is almost stifling, inducing claustrophobia to a man so used to the wide open prairies of the Wilds. Even the Dragonspine Mountains seem to press in, seeming to loom over you waiting for you to approach.  

Sights and sounds aside, a messenger had come late last night with a summons to the mage guild's tower. As I read through the page, a force overwhelmed me. It felt as though someone had tied a chain to my chest, lifted me up, and swung me around and around over their head. I finally fell vomiting on a cold stone floor, no longer in the tavern. When I got up, I reached for my gun and blade, but they were nowhere to be found. I had left them on the chair in my room with my breastplate.

I rose slowly; the worse part about throwing up is the after taste. I tried to spit as much bile out of my mouth as I could and blow as much out of my nose, but the smell of it was enough to make me want to retch again. I looked around, seven men and women in billowing robes stared intently at me. One stepped forward and waved her hand, the puke rose up into a little ball floating above her palm, dirt and grime from my body flowed away from me into the ball, that then blinked out of existence. She smiled like a mother and patted me on the back.

'That's much better.' She reminded me of what a grandmother would be like, if I had ever had one.

'Much appreciated ma'am. No who are you and why am I here?'

The oldest man stepped forward; he wore a long beard that was tucked into his armor. It was an intricate full plate suit, with a forest design inlaid in gold with a silver elk dancing on the chest. It was a rare gift of the Wood Elves, and even more rare on a non-elf. 'I am Timarratan, and this is'¦' he began with the introductions; I really don't remember all the names. But I recognized the Mage Guild Masters when I heard the names. Each one was the top of their field, and they were all likely atheists. Again, I will ensure that charge is added to the list.

'We have watched your career with great interest Paladin. We are intrigued your work, how many fugitives do you say you have caught?'  

'I don't like to brag'¦'

'Humor us.'

'835 alive and 693 dead.' Which is true, since my first days as a squire in the temple at least 835 fugitives have been brought to justice. Most of those were high level offences; your average paladin does not keep track of lesser infraction. 693 criminals have been brought low by my hands, whether through execution or self defense.

'Does it bother you that you have crushed the lives of so many Paladin?' A small weasel of a man stepped forward leaning on a crooked staff, 'What gives you the right to do so?' His thoughts bordered on treason, I will add that to the ever expanding list of charges.

'This does.' I lifted the book that is changed to my person at all times. It is thick and heavy, capable of caving in a skull when necessary as I found out. The chain cannot be removed, never rusts, cannot break, and reminds me of the oaths I swore. 'The Book of the Word is the law and faith of the republic, I suggest that you remember that Guild Master. This is ridiculous, if you wanted to banter with me, why not just invite me over instead of teleporting me?'

'Straight to business Lord Parmodius, I appreciate that.' Timarratan smiled and set his hand on my shoulder. Should I count that as battery? Eh, why not. These mages irk me. 'We understand you have been searching for the Cloudcroft Rapist for a few weeks now, correct?'

'Your spies prove to be well versed.'

'Please Lord Paladin; minds are but open books for the powers of the arcane.' An old toothless crone grinned her gums at me, she must have been the divining sorceress, tossing bones and reading entrails to learn as much as she could about me. She was probably trying to read my mind now, she's bluffing however, my own skills and training protect my mind from others. I just smiled back.

'So what is it that you need Lord Timarratan?' The mage began to shift, looking uneasy. He finally met my eyes.

'This morning Master Juridan was found dead.'

'So.'

'So we have reason to believe this rapist did it.' I met him with 'the stare.' It is a look that moves between hatred and loathing, and it scares the truth out of most people. Timarratan stared back. 'Juridan was the head of our council, we feel this may have been an assassination attempt and it requires the eyes of a Paladin.'

'Only the best.' The crone added.

'Only the best money can buy.' I added.
[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Day 1,314]Day 1,314

Cloudcroft

A Meeting with the Victim
Last night I stayed in the Mage tower, I didn't mind, knowing their shrewd ways, they most likely wanted to keep an eye on me. No matter. I definitely felt safer with my armor and weapons back. While it is impractical to think I would my breastplate to bead, I kept my pistol loaded and under my pillow, the sword was close at hand. I chose not to magically ward my room from intruders, it would have been a waste of time and they would have bypassed it anyway.

More importantly, the guild and I were able to negotiate a price. Rather than turn the rapist to the Republic, I would give him to the Guild alive, for 300 pieces of gold. Sounded like a fair deal to me, and I was running dangerously low on supplies here in the city.

That morning, I was met by Timarratan who took me to the Master's chamber. It was under surveillance by three golems, immense and forged from iron, these constructs stood as still as statues, and saluted respectfully when Timarratan walked by. He commanded them to open the door and allow me into the room, they did their duty silently. Sometimes I shudder to think about being replaced by the machines of the mages, but I know that a soulless construct does not compare to a real human being.

Juridan's chamber had not been touched since he died, Timarratan told me, and the dry musty smell of incense and rotten corpse told me he was right. Lying in the bed naked was Juridan, I was shocked to see he was not a man, but in fact a she, and she was a High Elf. Her beautiful blonde hair and soft complexion looked as though it had lost the glow that most High Elves carry. I was shocked; she seemed like a beautiful rose, plucked from the bush and pressed between the pages of an immense book. Timarratan reached into his pocket and laid a smooth stone on her forehead. It was black as jet and polished. Timarratan laid a liver spotted hand on her lips and began to mutter.

A minute later she shuddered as life was forced into her, her soul was temporarily transplanted back to the real world and she began screaming. The scream was high and wailing, and grated against my skull. Eventual her screaming died to soft sobs. Timarratan leaned close and began speaking to her in elven, well versed in many languages; I have translated it for you.

'Juridan, daughter of the High Elves, it's me, Timarratan.' She turned her dry zombie-like head to him and spoke in a rasping voice.

'Timarratan?'

'Juridan, did the rapist we have been searching for kill you?'

'Yes!'

'Juridan, was this a coup?'

'Yes!'

I stepped forward; I had to get my questioning of the witness in.

'Juridan, who killed you?' she began to convulse, she shoved Timarratan aside and grabbed my by the breastplate, pulling her close. My hat flew off and I could smell the rank of her. She screamed in my face.

'Kill him! Kill him! Send him to me in Hell so I can torment him for all eternity. Kill him!' Timarratan had recovered and knocked away the stone from her forehead, she fell back dead again.

'The spell is only good for three yes or no questions Lord Paladin, you should have asked me before you spoke.'

'Why haven't you tried to resurrect her?'

'We did, the High Priest of the Word came himself, her soul is trapped in a bad place, and cannot be released until her killer is brought to justice.'

I remained silent. It all seemed too convenient.


[/spoiler]