The Sigils of Meshtun

Touch My Ball

Ahh…Returning to the shining star of the inland sea, Enyen. Not wanting my adventuring mates surprised to find a greeting of daggers upon our entry to the City, I confessed several indiscretions committed by Yours truly several months back involving the wives and mistresses of Enyen more notable citizens. The construct named Banyan seemed a bit confused when I explained the process by which a man ruts his partner, funny Banyan. The invoker seemed aghast also, the missionary.

Entering the outskirting villages, I was unable to learn anything new regarding recent events in the city. The local yokels did get us to agree, over my strenuous objections, to cleat out the graveyard of an infestation for 50 lousy gold pieces and a ham breakfast (Crikes—our rates are getting dirt cheap). The graveyard was infested by fell creatures jumping out of a magic circle surrounding a black ball. The elf invoker, dwenadoo-odo, dwe ni, “D”, went into the black ball and disappeared.

After clearing out the graveyard, including a flaming skull-thing, I touched the black ball and knew that I, Kaj, was “master of the Ball.” I tried to get everyone of the group to touch my ball. That gnome shit refused to touch my ball. Banyan would have nothing to do with my ball. Under pressure, Flint reluctantly touched my ball. Me and flint entered a dark place. . .

Next entry, you’ll learn that Kaj is now a rapist. So long mates.



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