If somebody had told me the circumstances in which I would be writing this entry, I would have called them a fool or a madman. At any rate here I am, and I wonder if maybe I’m the one who’s been a fool.
Despite the many changes in my life, there has always been one reliable constant. The Tormentors, and their horrifying children the Iron Spirits, have bedeviled my people. No good can come of mingling with them. This is known. This is indisputable. And yet here I sit, bruised and stiff but alive in the lair of a Tormentor.
After all of that bloody business with Crog Halfsmile and his gang, I came to Middleborough. It seemed like a good place to lay low for a while until Crog’s boys stopped caring about their oaths of vengeance. Plus, I figured I could make some coin. Bigger towns always have someone causing trouble. As luck would have it, the only posted notices were looking for a Blue Eyed Ghost and some kind of a vigilante going by the rather ridiculous name of “Mr. Big-head”. The ghosts I’ll leave to someone more prepared to deal with that sort of thing. Surely somewhere in this foolishness of “civilization” they’ve got a shaman. The vigilante, though, that one caught my interest. Apparently some kind of three-eyed goblin has been skulking through the shadows and striking fear into the populace. There’s a pretty hefty reward for any kind of information about him, too.
If I hadn’t been half drunk when I found out about the vigilante, I probably wouldn’t have done what I did, but the goblin sitting across from me was clearly passed out drunk. I figured what harm could come of taking just a peak under the bandana he wore on his swollen head. Who ever saw a goblin in a bandana? Destiny truly always attacks from the flank.
Far from being some kind of vigilante, the goblin is question is called Gorgus Hammerthumb. He’s a carpenter, and admittedly not a bad one. Ugly little plug, but that’s not his fault. He came with me when I went to speak to the council to see if I could get any more information about this Mr. Big-head. Along the way, he spun out some crazy tales about the so-called Heroes of Middleborough, and the unlikely things they’ve seen and done. A statue attacking the man it was built to honor? This morning I would have called that outright prevarication. but now I have to admit that I’m just not so sure.
Gorgus and I eventually made our way to the Little Ray of Sunshine caravan, where these “heroes” have been making camp and offering protection for the merchants. Some heroes. They couldn’t even seem to muster up any interest in the fact that an army of greenskins was arming themselves within a defensible location right in the center of their town. But I’d exhausted my leads for Big-head, and the caravan’s owner seemed to be recruiting more talent, so I decided to sign on as a guard, and caretaker for the horses. As an “audition” they squared me off against the most disgusting half-ogre I’ve ever seen. His body is almost completely round. Squeezing through the gaps in the tight white leather, his skin is oily where it doesn’t seem to be made of stone. He calls himself Thoorin, and he’s a coward and a cheat. He’s plenty strong, but still felt the need to wear a set of brass knuckles in his boxing match against me. I would have set Rasher on him, but I choose to fight with honor. Besides, apparently standing off for a minute against the brute was enough to convince the head man that I had what it took, and they gave me the job.
It wasn’t what I expected. Instead of journeying across country stopping attacks by bandits and wild beasts, I went in a company including this Thoorin and a council member for the city, a halfman named Joseph. A strange, stocky woman named Bodil who apparently can sense the activities of the spirits of this place came with us, and despite my reservations and fear that I’d have to protect him at every turn, so did Gorgus.
Shortly after entering we were attacked by giant rats that, when killed, became swarms of smaller rats. This seemed to surprise Joseph, and I confirmed that they were natural rats nests, though certainly not natural rats. Still not sure where they got the materials needed to make their nests, though. They burned handily enough, so hopefully that takes care of the problem.
That’s when my entire world collapsed out from under me. In the very next room of this gods forsaken place I came face to face with an Iron Spirit, which came at me aggressively, then stopped when Joseph threw himself bodily onto my Raven’s Beak, forcing it to the ground. The monstrous thing, which they are calling 13013, broke off its attack and seemed largely uninterested in me or my companions after that. Then we descended down a hole into another level of this horrible place. There we came upon what I first took to be a woman, working at some kind of glowing window. Upon closer inspection, I saw that she was not a natural being at all. I took her to be a Tormentor, and I did the only thing I could think to do – I attacked her. The rest of the party turned against me, and they knocked me out and tied me up with my own rope. I can’t blame them, I probably would have done the same in their shoes. Now, I’m not so sure that she is a Tormentor. Apparently, she’s a “robot”, whatever that means. But she doesn’t seem malicious. And this place, this Psychosis Beacon, is seemingly no longer being used for whatever foul purpose it was originally designed. It seems we’re just here to loot anything of value. Not quite what I call “heroic” behavior. Still, this group is undoubtedly powerful. Maybe they just need someone to show them how to best apply that strength.
I think our time would be better used finding that vigilante menace and bringing him to justice. Perhaps I can enlist Gorgus’ help. He should be able to understand the mind of a goblin, and he’s proven to know how to handle himself in a fight.
Joseph has just left us, and the others seem to be discussing what to do next. I’ll write more soon, but for now I think it’s best that I pay attention to what’s happening around me.