By Beth Griese

Date:   August 17, 1996

Quote of the Day:
"Mad, Undead mongoose!" -- Beth Griese

To Garen Thundersson, cleric of Mielikki. From your faithful servant, Jade.

With the next morning in Suzail, and all our reasons for being in this monstrous city exhausted, we decided that it was time to return home. Our pockets being as light as they were, though, the Wayfarers decided to look for employment that would take us north. We asked to be pointed to Suzail's equivalent of the job board of Arabel, and was pointed to the Inn of the Stalwart Adventurers.

The Inn, as it turned out, was more accurately a club, with exclusive membership open only to "proven" adventurers. As it turned out, our membership in the Order of the Dragon was sufficient to prove our worth. Now we just had to decide if the Inn had worth to us. After a long discussion with the man at the front desk, we decided to pay the fees for entry. This Inn was, after all, quite impressive, with a nice garden entry that actually allowed me to see the sky unblocked by buildings, books that seemed to line every room of this huge house, a dining room with simple fare to offer, and a huge room devoted to maps of the realm. A fairly impressive list of benefits plus, of course, the job board, a file of potential employers, and contacts far and wide of experienced adventurers who might be inclined to help train a fellow adventurer.

Our admission paid, our party trooped downstairs to view the job board - and sample lunch. We munched on sandwiches while we viewed the disappointing job board. Only three cards were posted, one for the undead war in the north, another for a boat trip to Raven's Bluff (how on earth would I get back in time for Midsummer's Day?), and a post from an Inn member, Lord Digglesby, who was looking for adventurous companions to join him on a journey to... a pub. He wanted to go drinking and look for whatever excitement might befall him. We looked the old gent up, who had apparently gotten a head start on the evening's planned drinks, and decided we might as well accompany him for some free ales before we begin the long march home.

And so, we spent the afternoon taking advantage of our new club. Most of us read books and maps including, as it turned out, a room full of spell books. I enjoyed the accounts of your adventures, and even found myself mentioned a couple of times as your new ward. There was even a mention of me from when I must have just joined your service.

So with the setting sun, we met with Lord Digglesby, who had hired the Inn's coach to take us to a suitable bar, to drink the night away and find adventure. It's amazing how the most simple of jobs can turn so ugly. We came upon the Pleasant Intents Inn, and for whatever reason struck him, Digglesby ordered the driver to stop, and we went inside. The bar was less than high-class. The barroom was dirty, whores beckoned from the balconies, and a pit area featured betting on animal fighting.

The party members were, apparently, just placing bets on whether I would interfere with the next scheduled fight between a snake and a mongoose, when all hell broke loose - quite literally. Borreau had just arrived at my back to warn me; he had looked for evil in the place, Verence for magic, and both had nearly been blinded by the amount of evil, magical energy that infused almost everything there. Before the last of his breath had reached my ear, the bartender erupted into a booming, basso voice that was calling for Digglesby's hide, while he transformed into a horrid beast, towering over the bar, with horns and mottled skin, like a demon from a nightmare. Apparently, he was a demon, for Digglesby remembered his party defeating him in combat years ago. Unfortunately, that's about all Digglesby was good for; he was reduced to muttering and blinking after that.

Verence found a way to melt some of the illusion around us; every person in the bar, it seemed, wasn't a person at all, but a henchthing of this demon with a grudge. And the door that had brought us here faded into the wall. The demon seemed to be enjoying his game; he promised to return our group to Faerun (we weren't on Faerun any more?) as long as Digglesby stayed behind.

Of course, we couldn't abandon the man who had hired us to be his companions for the evening. Our alternative, according to this demon creature, was to face his minions in individual trials. I felt ready to battle one of these monsters - it was certainly preferable to battling fifty of them - but what about the others in the group? What on earth were we going to do if some of us failed and others succeeded? The demon wanted to claim us as prizes if we lost, and I couldn't help looking down at that nearly-forgotten mongoose and cobra who were still at our feet; they didn't act like any natural animals I knew. I had pretty much figured out the fate that awaited us if we failed.

At that moment, I realized we may not leave this building together. No matter the result, I pray Mielikki my logs reach you, and shall remain until the end, as ever,

Your faithful servant,

--Jade

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