Fun in Chult with Sael'Faen

(and the murderous voice in her head)

Dear Diary,

Oh my goodness! Brianna was right! I had to get out of that city anyway, and seeing the world is already much, much more exciting than I ever thought possible! As for the captain’s notion that the world would be safer if I stayed hidden…well, I think I showed him today: I saved, like, four people’s lives! And I only had to kill seven people to do it!

(You saved them?)

Fine. Okay. WE saved them. But now they’re my friends! At least, I think they’re my friends. There’s a big lizardy guy who spits acid into people’s faces…

(That’s pretty cool.)

I know, right? Anyway, his name is Phract. He talks to me, and he has these magical phrases and stuff he can say that heal wounds, speed my movements up, and everything. It was super-sweet. Gonna stick with him, I think, since I don’t know anybody else really well. There’s this skinny guy with marks all over his face – Brion, maybe? He can move stuff around with his mind. He talks some too. There’s another girl, but she doesn’t say much. I bet she’s got a spooky history. She seems all harrowed and cool like that. There’s also a huge, hairy half-orc…

(Nice alliteration.)

Thank you! He smashes faces into walls and grunts a lot. I like him, too. We’ve pretty much formed a team – forged in the fiery fires of battle and all that. It’s kind of uncanny how we came together. We were all sort of just on these carts going through the jungle, and it was really boring for, like, the first week or so. Sure, we lost a few guards: one got bit by a reticulated fang-adder that he thought was a branch or something, and the other got sucked up by quickening sand when he tried to relieve himself out in the jungle. It’s totally his fault. I mean, the jungles of Chult are so dangerous, they even have an expression for it: “Better to go in your pants than out in the plants.”


I thought so, yes. It’s too bad he died, too, because we could’ve used an extra guard a few days later…we were ambushed! A thick mist rolled in, and creeping out of it were a band of lizardfolk, armed with clubs, spears, and vicious magicks.

(You mean magic?)

Nah. It’s the -ks that gives it that arcany feel. May I continue?


Thank you. So at first I wasn’t sure if they were friendly or not, but they helpfully cleared that up right quick by almost killing Brion. Well, Diary, you know me…any excuse to let her come out and play is fine by me, and sister, did she want to play! Before I knew it, there wasn’t a single lizardfolk left, unless you count Phract. I took a moment to breathe in the shredded and tattered vapors of their living souls before the essence dissipated completely, and then we were off again. Oh, yeah, and BONUS! It turns out that just by killing all those lizardy people, we saved a priestess of Kelemvor. She kindly paid our way into the Cauldron for us, which was a load off my shoulders, since I was going to have to sneak or lie my way in otherwise.

Once we got there, we bid adieu…


Yeah, adieu. It’s primordial for goodbye, I think. So we bid adieu to the other people in the caravan and asked around for where we might stay. The Drunken Hippogriff came highly recommended, so we started making our way there. Notice a theme? Yeah, me too. Any time we “make our way” somewhere, stuff goes down.

(Not that we mind “stuff”.)

Nope! More kills for us! This time, another guy with a holy symbol was being attacked. That’s another theme. This time, he was a Tormy.

(I believe adherents to the tenets of Torm are called Tormtars.)

Yeah, like I said, a Tormy. He was getting beat up by creepy mimes. My half-orc friend, Sar-apostrophe-Vol, who I shall henceforth refer to as Trophy, took offense to this – I’m assuming because he hates mimes. Trophy started a fight, and then an entire gang of mimes showed up. That’s right. Backup mimes. Phract melted a few faces off, we killed all the mimes (primaries and backups), and we found out that they were members of the Last Laugh gang. That’s appropriate, because the last time anyone laughed at a mime was a long, long time ago indeed.

(You’re reaching).

Who cares? I’m still funnier than a mime. And at any rate, these mimes, who, by the way, totally cheated by talking throughout the battle, were beating on the Tormy because he was putting up fliers looking for three missing kids. I hope the kids weren’t lizardfolk or mimes, because if they were, I think I know what happened to them…

Now we’re escorting the Tormy back to his temple, just in case he’s attacked by any other street performers. I hear Cauldron has vicious acrobats and magicians.

(Let me guess…they go straight for the juggler?)

Hey! You’re getting the hang of it, murderous voice inside my head! That’s why we’re besties.



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