From the diary of Hubert le Hugenot

The following text was writting by a player of mine (and a very dear friend) when his character Hubert was still among the living (although his soul is still preserved in Karl's sentient sword). It provides another glimpes of everything that happened between session 3 and 7, of which I was sadly too busy to write any reports.

—

After our last expedition we had a good week of study and rest, but the call of the castle was too great. So once again we planned an expedition. For gold and glory!

With us were brave Alberto , doughty Karl Gruber, careful Bodo and stoic Shubert, with me bringing up the rear, carrying the telepathic brain we found in a jar on my back.

As Auxiliaries we brought the newly recruited Balthazar, Jacques and François and Antoinette the mule.

But first there was the issue of the bandit called 'The Fox' who had forced a chore on us. He had given us our lives but wanted in return his nephew Claude de Malevol. Alberto greased some palms in The Tap and found out Claude was a regular there. A meeting was had with this forlorn scion of the Malevol clan and we found out Claude was a friendly gent, if you fed him lots of liquor. He promised to help us with this 'Foxy' matter, but only if we would bring him the head of a certain family member named Patrice de Malévol. Nothing comes easy for us, it seems. 

So we set out, the eight of us and the donkey. For fear of running into the bandits again we went for the main entrance. The Gargoyle guards gave us the shivers, and when we pushed the grand doors open, the damned statues started laughing! Those stoney voices startled us thoroughly. What startled us even more was the strangled gurgling sound coming from behind us. Two black clad ruffians were strangling François! Before we could react François dropped dead, his head was the colour of fresh blueberries! Dropping their man-catchers the assassins drew blades and cut down Jacques, a shame for he was a dutiful servant. A Sling-stone and a throwing dagger launched by Shubert and me brought down one of the swine while the other was cut down by Karl and finished of by Alberto, who stabbed the blackguard straight through the throat. In great sorrow we loaded whatever our poor retainers carried up on the mule, wondering if our reputation in Tours-en-Savoy would ever permit us to hire more locals. 

We were just about to enter the castle when a terrible voice rang out to us. Up on the parapet stood a figure radiating with power. There stood Aristide Malevol. Patriarch of the family and grand wizard of the Castle. Magical energy oozed from his every undead pore. A fey mood overcame me and in a shrieking voice I called out to this high wizard. “Oh great Aristide Malevol, please allow me to become your apprentice so you can teach me some of your grand power, what we could accomplish together!”. This proved to be foolish. Angered, Aristide cursed at us and we fled inside whimpering… Only Shubert stayed. Standing still as a rock he watched Aristide. This irked the patriarch greatly and he willed the cleric inside with an outburst of magical malice, all the while promising doom to our company for we had vexed him greatly! If only I could be so radiant, so powerful as him!

We hurriedly stumbled into the grand vestibule of the house. Shockingly dusty and poorly maintained I must say… Some odds and ends were lying around in the dust. While I stood around moping at the death of my manservant and porter, how disgraceful for a powerful magician like me to be without servants! The usually very wise halfling put on a green cloak he found. The cloak promptly started trying to murder him. “A cloaker! A cloaker!”. The halfling yelled and the whole room went pitch black.

The dwarf screamed he could see the heat of the vile flying cloth through the magical dark and charged in. The rest of us saw nothing so I helped out. While only using a fraction of my immense power I dispelled the darkness from the room! Everybody applauded. The Rag now started striking for the dwarf, who handled the damage like a true veteran. We charged in to end it. Panicking the cloaker quadrupled himself but this did not ease his trouble. Only Karl, the dwarf, could see what was illusion and what real. Hacking at it with much fury. I tried blinding it with another ray of hellish light but the creature had learned from the earlier spell and was now immune. Very vexing! The lads hacked at it and the  promptly started fleeing down the hall, we charged after it and good archery from the elf, dwarf and halfling brought the devil down.

A ghost had become visible to us, he introduced himself as James the Butler and he gave us a long talk about the tourist information of Castle Xyntilan. This bored me to tears but the dwarf seemed intrigued. Following the directions of the butler we found ourselves in the guest bedroom, just of the hallway. We barricaded that room, and I meditated for a while to regain my used spellpower. The elf, a wise fellow, joined me of course while the more menial inclined members of our company lounged around sullen and simple (as is their character; we magical beings are much superior to those who don’t possess 'the craft'). We continued from the guest bedroom into another room, in which we discovered a skull wearing glasses of gold, and a strange button which activated many mechanisms in the wall but we could discover no effect of this. The dwarf was fascinated by this contraption. The strangeness of some of these dwarves keeps impressing upon me.

The room right after this one was a comfortable study room. The rooms covered in swords, one standing out in particular. There was also an alcohol cabinet and a ghostly fellow reading a book, Merton Malévol. He tasked us with finding a book by Nicholas Flamel, and fled after Shubert tried confronting him with his vanished mortality. The alcohol cabinet was raided granting us Aquavit, Champagne and Brandy. Very useful for later! Meanwhile the dwarf had been eyeing the unique sword on the wall. “The Blade of Rel” a plaque read. The dwarf almost had his greedy paws on it when the brain-in-jar intervened. “If you touch that you are in grave danger!” The dwarf backed off. But in his tiny dark eyes I could see an unhealthy obsession growing.

We returned to the main hall and followed it east. Magical portraits of the family greeted us each in his or her own way. Aristide was among them, he cursed at Shubert and promised us trouble. I find this behaviour not suitable for a man such as him, why would a godlike wizard be troubling himself with vermin like us. When I reach his level of power I will keep my focus on grander business. Aristides trouble found us shortly. A scream rang through the hallway. Alberto was dead, an arrow sticking out of his skull.

Later I found out he had been looking at a painting of Hubert Malévol the Huntsman. His death drained all my energy and left me standing there gaping. My mind racing but not reaching any solution to help him. Alberto! My most loyal companion. I could even have called him my friend if I cared about such trivial emotions… Maybe I did care? Shubert sprung into action and pulled the elf’s dead carcass from his body. I willed myself to action and started pounding at the elf’s chest all the while screaming at Shubert. “We must return to the village! The priest must be able to help us!” Shubert shook his head and said. “The priest of Tours-en-Savoy is only a simple man, such holy miracles are beyond his skill”. Mad with grief I started rummaging in my satchel. Aquavit? Didn’t vitae mean life in the ancient tongue of priests and mages? I poured its contents down Alberto’s throat. And waited for a very long second. A cough rang out through the hallway! Astonishing! Alberto lived!

We mounted the dazed and drained elf on the donkey. Karl the dwarf wanted to continue our search for riches but both the halfling and me insisted we would return to Tours-en-Savoy to rest Alberto up. We sped down the vestibule but found the main gate locked. The laugh of Aristide could be heard ringing in our ears… Curse that lich! Remembering the words of James the Butler we struck out east, aiming for the outer courtyard. Into a doorway we went. Speedily traveling we found ourselves lost in the maze of tunnels. We gathered our senses in a staff bedroom. A fancy mirror showed us undead versions of ourselves. So we looted it to sell later. In that room I left some rations, useful if we ever ran out of food on further expeditions. After a little backtracking we found the stables. Lady Luck was with us. The stables connected to the kitchen we had discovered last expedition! We were on familiar ground now and speedily managed to find ourselves in the yard. With some pride that we had survived this ordeal yet another time, we left for Tours-en-Savoy.