Well, what to say? I think I shall begin this journal with one of our most recent adventures, the same one in which we were inadvertantly trapped in a tomb with a huge and irrate ghost. It seems a good a place as any to start given the touch and run tactics of our party.
It began with us finding a large tomb of sorts whilst travelling back to the underground caverns we have been exploring, on and off, for the last month or so.
The carved scripts on the tomb proclaimed it contained the remains of a king and his devoted servant. What none of us realised, not connecting the size of the statues to the meat of the matter, was that this 'noble king' was a titan of sorts.
Given the mercenary nature of the party (I have lost count of how many swords and pieces of opponents armor we picked up over the course of that trip) it isn't surprising that we not only had a look around and attempted to open every door in our path and I admit I took equal part in that, more out of curiosity than intent of acquisition.
Unfortunately the second door we went through not only relocked but also resealed itself behind us and left us at the mercy, or lack thereof, of a storm giant ghost the king's servant.
We were lucky to survive the swift bout that followed, half the party, my two summoned lions included, promptly turned tail and ran from the creature and I don't really blame them. However it left only a few of us to swing at the thing. Not an easy task when your swords pass through nothing more tangible than mist.
I thanks the gods of fortune for our cleric and mage who, between them, managed to destroy the thing before it got too out of hand.
We didn't find much in that tomb and fortunately managed to convice those more foolhardy to NOT pry into the other chambers.
Our mage, Edward, managed to teleport us out and back to town to recover (and sell all the unwanted equipment stripped from opponents along our travels) before heading out again, once more back into the local catacombes.
I admit I grow weary of trudging back down into those dank and enclosed passageways with no real goal. I still do not know why this party I am travelling with are so intent on going through the place like a common robber through a kitchen in search for silverware. At least there is an occassional puzzle or challenging lock to keep my mind from turning to black pudding but at times it is a little frustrating.

It's about week from my last entry, it is hard to judge time underground... I long for the sun and wind.
A smattering of goblins attempted to ambush us last watch. The brainless creatures may as well have worn bells and boots shod of solid tin they were so loud. It did not take us long to drive the survivors off, only to find we had been watched by something less than desirable:
Cursed beholders!
I had not know their gaze negates magic and enchantments.
Fortunately the only member of the party looking in my direction at the time was the she-elf ranger and she appears to have accepted my frantic gesture for her to remain silent. If I am fortunate she will forget what she saw. Otherwise I will have to make up some tale to allay suspicion.
We have made a bargain of sorts with the beholder to destroy another of it's species that has moved into lairs further down in these catacombes, or at least we said we would. I personally have no intention of going anywhere near another beholder, not unless it's eyes have been permanently sewn shut.
Wretched things.
The place where we had set camp before the goblin attack had a wall bricked off. Bricks! Of all strange things to find in a rough stone catacombe. Needless to say the more zealous of the party's treasure hounds spared no time knocking it down. Within we encountered a ghost of an Elven lady, she only gave her name as Yokim and told us of her death walled up by a human king, transformed to a bean-sidhe when she refused his advances.
I found no trace more of who she was before death in the tomb when we returned later. Alas without more information I cannot carry word to her family, if they still exist. The party for the main part were more interested in what treasure the king might have than any outrage over her death, at least they didn't ransack her grave.
At the bequest of Lady Yokim we set out to find this King Goove and, perhaps, revenge her.
I thank my friend the late mage for selling me his spider cloak. I cannot count the number of times it has saved me from a drenching in this undercavernous realm. We crossed another river at the instructions of the bean-sidhe, though it was only to dive straight into a subterranian lake.
So much for my dry cloak.
I jot this down now, the water's still dripping from my nose, while the others are deciding the order we go on in to find King Goove. I've water-weed in my hair again. I'll comb it out when I can get a few minutes to myself, Im glad my father can't see me now. Fastidious as he is he'd have a fit.

A half day... or is it less? Since I last wrote here
We found the king alright, now a powerful mummy he attacked the party before we had much chance to do anything. I can't remember what happened next properly, I tried to fire an arrow at him then the next thing I knew I had been felled by our cleric, Soshka. The elf Ceole told me he had used a wand of sorts to command myself and Dimbly to attack our fellows. Fortunately Soshka stopped me before I managed to do much harm.
It was a true stroke of luck that felled King Goove, with half the party incapacitated and our cleric being the only one to seriously wound the king, our mage, Edward, in desperation cast magic missile at the undead creature. The spell missed but somehow triggered a weakness in the roof, felling several large stones, most of which struck the undead king.
Gah my hands are stiff. I will never like hold spells but at least no one clouted me on the head this time.
Tired of the stiffness that comes from being commanded, paralised and held I purchased an amulet from a mage guaranteed to protect the wearer from such enchantments. An expensive trinket I will return to stuff it down his throat if it fails.
I sound irritable and I know it. The others are trying to decide which to tackle first, a dragon or the beholder while I unsuccessfully try to dry my socks out.
All manner of wealth has passed through our group and I still don't have a good pair of socks. No one seems to make them around here. I suppose they'd all rot off in this climatel I know mine are.
Alas my poor boots have not borne the adventuring life well. The seams on the left one have split from drying too fast again. I must remember to see a cobbler while I am in town.
Well it looks like it's decided what we tackle next, we are away again...

Please remember this journal is according to Rinn's point of view and so true happenings may not be exactly as he relates them. Also Rinn Fian and the other characters are all the intellectual property of their players.
Please do not alter or redistribute.