Journal Entry #2113 It's been 3 days. Cora is still at her parchment, scribbling frantically. Her face is black from the ink splashes, her eyes the only glimmers of white in an ocean of shimmering darkness. I may have competition as the lorekeeper of this party. Let us just be thankful that Fenix has been dragged from the inkwell at last. My vigil continues. I will return when she concludes her tale.

I can hardly decide which is more wounded: my back or my pride? No doubt Fenix has compiled another dreary account of what was sure to have been the most seamless period of dungeon exploration in history. Loathe though I am to add it to my library, however, I surely must; thus now I shall recount only the most gripping portions of this particular tale. Namely, those involving yours truly. As ever, my skill with the crossbow was on full display as I plugged a pesky flaming booby trap. Unfortunately, this moment of deft wonderment was somewhat overshadowed by Fenix remembering immediately afterwards that he was immune to the flame trap in question. Of all the hell-lords to rise to our mortal plane, we had to acquire the one with rocks for brains. I fear even Dramir to be his intellectual rival, and that lovable fool barely escaped with his life after activating a concealed shock-trap with his own face. The first of my aforementioned wounds came when examining an elegantly carved cog protruding from the walls of a seemingly inconspicuous corridor. What followed was a blur of incredible pain and the acquisition of a chip in my left horn which refuses to grow back, even with magical persuasion. How humiliating. Add to this the constant twinge near the base of my spine and I'm having a miserable time of it. What I was thinking trying to open that enormous door singlehanded was anyone's guess, but I'd rather this discomfort than the oblivion provided by the fist of a giant stone golem. By my mother's horns, if Fenix hadn't arrived to help me push and heave then we would all have had our work cut out with that big bastard. Thankfully our trials were not for naught. A mysterious beast from a world beyond has dangled the tantalising carrot of knowledge before our eyes, and I for one will pursue it until my stomach is full and my eyes can cut through the dark like torches.

The CLockwork Tower!

The CLockwork Tower!

The CLockwork Tower!

Journal Entry #37 Fenix, the magma-brained simpleton, decided to pick a fight with some particularly hardy suits of armour this evening. When I received his message and came to his aid, I was half sure that my eyes were still swimming with yesterday's mead. The armour was devoid of its wearer! This small fact didn't dissuade it from attempting to cleave my friends' heads from their shoulders, however. Of course I struck the final blow with Bianca- where would I be without such a dependable crossbow? All in all, an evening of unexpected events and one that I am in no way keen to repeat anytime soon. I can't believe I left the barkeep's warm embrace for this tomfoolery, honestly...