An Angel Has Fallen Session 4: Fire, blood, and the spark of life
From the journal of Amsir the Crippled, written in sprawling, loopy letters. Spattered with blood and sweat.
These old ruins are filled with deadly sorts. During the action today I took a shot. Scribbling this down to try and make sense of it. My ribs hurt.
The day started with Artorias, Merlin, and Vennkat searching ruins for anything worthwhile. They uncovered a snake, some old books, and a building with a chained up spiritless. I called to the creature, checked to see if it was capable of reason. It wasn't. So we killed it and went through the trapdoor it was guarding. Another spiritless behind bars, a woman dressed in newer clothes. They also didn't react to my calls so I chopped them to bits as to not reconstitute.
Artorias dug around in the room and found a journal belonging to some pit fighter named Dwarf. The spiritless was his wife or something. Shame to lose her twice. I suggested we ambush this man as he is a capable fighter, no sense in leaving around a potential enemy like that.
While we waited a loud racket picked up. Ten men took to the courtyard nearby, fortifying it and doing some form of engineering work. Merlin identified them as soldiers of The Company. A whole horde of spiritless followed in their wake, drawn by the racket. The soldiers killed them and we slunk off.
Walking back to the sewers I came across a 32 toothed gear. Still warm to the touch I reckoned it might have been The Company's and saw a means to make allies. I hobbled over as only The Crippled can and a fat boar named Chuckles lured me away from the rest of this squad. I showed him the gear and tried to get him to take it but Chuckles just nervously giggled and said how he couldn't see it. I brought it closer to him when hell broke loose. An explosion around the campfire and screams. Agony echoed through the husk of the courtyard, charred meat hung heavy in the night. The carriage driver leveled a rifle and shot me through and through. The wound took me out of the fighting as Chuckles got the better of me. Merlin pulped the grotesque with a blast from the blunderbuss. The shootist got away though, avoiding Vennkat and Merlin's attempts to catch him.
We came away with woodworking tools, a forge, soil sample kits, and stonecutter's tools. A decent cache of weapons and food. And a wagon and team to drive it all.
We camp here for now amongst the burnt and dead wondering where the shootist got off to and who he might bring back.
And the fire, the damned fire again. First the lantern and now the campfire. Undead and explosions seem to go hand in hand in the ruins. The Grand Investigator may need to be observed...
My wound weeps. I must rest before the party pushes me on.