Vhakizla – Chapter 17
"Summer of 67. Second Age. Akiz.Flush from their victory over Caliphar II, the mercenaries pillaged the Summer Palace. In addition to Griffon's sword, they discovered a cache of magic items – a thunderous shield, a bloodletting dagger, effervescent sandals and a terrifying helm – as well as the revelation that the bloody river was transforming, bit by bit, into a river of wine. Mouse made a different discovery – an enormous codex, describing the history of Caliphar II's reign. Thanks to the mummified translator, the party learned that Caliphar II was not killed but only vanquished; for he indeed inhabited the very mist that swirled in the Ghostmire. Deciding not to mention this fact to their draconic patron, they packed their belongings and began the long march back to Vhak. Their plans were thwarted somewhat, however, when they were summoned before Vhakizla herself. Her dutiful translator relaying this truth to the dracolich, she demanded an explanation. Speaking skillfully, the mercenaries managed to convince the dragon that they'd indeed fulfilled the contract and were desirous to depart. Pleased with the work they'd done, Vhakizla paid them and offered Chimera a standing position, as her new strategos, which she politely declined. Relieved to be paid and departing for sunnier climes, the mercenaries returned to Thariza Place one last time. There, Mouse obsessed over their new box, its contents still mysterious to their companions. Remorhaz had a brief confrontation with Pegasus, the two jockeying for Willow's affections. Umber and Pudding reconciled, the dwarf giving his new friend a priceless gift of illuminite. In his bed, the comatose Griffon received a strange letter - sealed with the image of two shackled wrists.
Disregard the last entry. I dunno what came over me.
Pained me some to sit those last battles out but my head weren’t right and my hammer strokes wouldn’t be either. The mist has cleared some now and, with it, my thinking.
When that mist cleared, what I saw were victory. Guess maybe these kids don’t need a cranky old fart like me, tellin’ how to march and how to fight.
Tell you, though. Glad as I am to see an end to all this, for that vampire and his mists to fade into memory, it’s the memories themselves I don’t know’ll be so easy to slay. What I wrote on these pages, what I saw in those mists were things I thought long ago buried. Demons I thought I’d slain in my youth.
I suppose some things can’t be killed with a sword." – Beholder's Log, 67 2A
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