O.S.M. and Friends

The Mercenary Journal of Narn Giffouldevant

Reavespoint Mission

This entry was written into Narns journal before rescued by the party. He believed it would be his last…

My name is Narn Giffouldevant, I am a trained warmage from the east. I am writing these words as a warning to whomever finds them, and also as a way to pass the many dark hours away. I have been trapped in this room for, I believe, five days. I know not who trapped me, possibly goblins, but more likely I have been doomed by a treacherous companion. I sit by the door with my ear to the iron door listening, in the dark, trying to save the lamp oil. I suppress my hunger and thirst trying to stretch my rations, but although I have rations for a few more days, I can feel my strength beginning to wane. I must stop my weapon practice and spellbook study, because I no longer know when I am sleeping or awake.

I tried spellcraft to free myself, but my most powerful magic is electrical in nature and has little effect on iron. In fact the thunderclap that followed the blast echoed terribly in this tiny room and deafened me, fortunately for only a day, but I feared that it was to be permanent, and I was to die in silence as well as in darkness.

If the reader of these words is Raylor, then I curse you. May you rot in the deepest pit, in the lowest kingdom of the abyss, suffering the most putrid torment. You dog! If you did not close the iron door and lock me in this pitch black prison by your own hand, they you have forsaken me, and thereby doomed me all the same. I pray to all the gods to curse me, nay bless me, with unlife. I pray to become a revenant and hound you the rest of your life and destroy all the benefits you have reaped by my death. If by some strange fate I am released from this prison, then there is only one mission for me: revenge. Sweet, sweet, retribution for what you have done to me.

I also pray, when the fire in my belly cools and my thoughts wander, for my companions. Crinel, Trevar, and William. Honorable warriors and good men. The last I saw of Trevar his body was crawling with worms, and Raylor’s apprentice Einman pushed him in a well. May you rot in the abyss as well, Einman you rat! Perhaps the fates will decree you the same doom as poor Trevar. I pity the famished worm that tries to eat your bitter flesh! And that goes for you Kim, you halfling, you half-heart, you half-wit! You would barely make a snack for the worms! I saw you stow the box of gold in your robes “for safekeeping”! BAH!

I see now that I was simply a pawn in this little game. My role was to cast combat spells, I agreed to those terms. But I also agreed to share in the rewards. A single paltry share to Raylor’s four shares and you wouldn’t even grant me that. I’m surprised I was even given the 50 gold signing bonus. I would have guessed that they were fake, but I have had the time to proof each one in my ample time.

So be warned, you who reads these words. Beware the worms in this place. First and foremost beware the worm named Raylor and any that call him “friend”. And if you are him or his friend, then be warned thusly: Narn Giffouldevant is your enemy, and there are few things more dangerous than a betrayed wizard, and my vengance burns as hot as a furnace in a dwarf’s forge!


I can hear the sounds of battle through the door. Strange, it has been so quiet for days I’m not sure if I am dreaming or perhaps I am already dead. No matter. I will don my armor, and refresh my spells. No doubt it is the goblins, or worse, but strangely… I thought I heard a few words of common. Perhaps there are others in this place now. Maybe I can enlist them for my causes. I dare not hope too much. If they do not try the door, I will cast my spell again in hopes to draw their attention.



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