View source for The Sibylline Spiel of Hogswald Pfifflebottom III the Malodorous

{{diary}} (Deep Dwarf Necromancer)

Log Entry 1,
July 10, 1290:

I woke up in a cave this morning. I suppose my erstwhile family, the Pfifflebottoms, must have placed me here after driving me out of our manor "for practicing unholy arts." I know all they truly despise is the way my feet reek, or so they say. I admit it is a problematic area. I will show them what is who. With this document as a testament, I solemnly swear I will unearth the Fabled Orb of Zot and use its powers to render all their feet with a miasma of decaying stench. He..he...heeheehee...

Log Entry 2,
April 23, 1290:

After a few days of plotting, which mainly composed of eating all the supplies my erstwhile family left me, and crying for my mother, it seems time has moved significantly backwards. I shall receive this as a sign of sure fortune and begin my quest immediately! 

Log Entry 3, April 24, 1290:

I begin my quest by finding a sabre, which has been lying directly next to me and pointing ominously towards me for the duration of my stay in this cave insofar. I think it is going to try to kill me. Well, I shall turn the harpsichord upon it, and wield it to kill other things! 

I have come upon a pair of scrawny rats. Good Lord have mercy upon me.

It appears that the rats went into convulsions as they approached me, as if they were in excrucatory pain. I'm certain they were destroyed by my foot odor. This could turn to my advantage.

A potion. A purple, purplexing, purpetrating potion. And now I am floating.

Log Entry 4, April 24, 1290:

After applying sabre and malodor against more of the ersatz creatures of this cave, I feel stronger somehow. Truly, it is offset by the profusive bleeding cased by me nearly being clubbed to death by an impudent Pfifflebottom assassin in the form of a hobgoblin. But a good feeling it remains.

I stumbled upon a scroll, but the words on it were in no language I am aware of. After sounding out the nonsense upon it, I found myself in a seperate area of the cave, and have no idea where the stairs outside are. It seems I am stuck in this hellhole.

Upon slaying an absurdly large gecko that seemed to be hungering for my blood, something occurred to me: Why would a gecko, let alone a large one, hunger for my blood? Furthermore, why wouldn't it eat the assassin, so pitifully disguised as a hobgoblin, right next to it? And why are there geckos in a cave at all?

Log Entry 5, April 24, 1290:

There seems to be a great number of beasts most ferocious in this cave. I shouldn't complain, my erstwhile mother-in-law could be down here waiting to eat me for all I know.

I found boots. Yet the odor of my feet when properly veiled is no less atrocious.

Log Entry 6, April 25, 1290:

I descended down a slippery and menacing staircase. It spoke to me, and I was thoroughly disturbed. Never before have I encountered an inanimate object so obsessed with violence and consuming the juices of my thyroids. It said to me "Don't slip."

This second layer of the dungeon appears to have only marginal difference from the first. I would hope the pigmentation of the walls varies at some point, or I may go insane.

The first creature I encountered was a beast known as a quokka, a small marsupial native to the mysterious, misty land of Australia. It had murder in its eyes. I killed it, and ate it.

Just around the corner from the nightmare of the quokka was what seemed to be a large puddle of melted ice cream. Imagine my shock when it attacked me as I attempted so salvage some of the rocky road. I will stick to vanilla for the rest of my life, I swear it.

Log Entry 7, April 25, 1290:

I found a cloak. Finding a cloak made me think: "Why is everything in this dungeon so angry? What did I do to them?" I realize now the answer: they want my cloak.

Log Entry 8, April 9, 1290:

I've lost track of time. The 9th seems like a good guess.

After descending another perverted flight of stairs and experiencing that odd sensation of power twice more, I took a gander in the voluminous tome branded with a pentagram I have been toting around. I learned a way to suck the assassin's brains out through their noses. And then I eat the brains.

I found yet another of these despicable nonsense badgerwollop scrolls. It has nothing on it, except for a label. Ridiculous.

Log Entry 9, April 9, 1290:

I found a wooden ring. On it, several words are scribed: "To my beloved Sarah, may we not be eaten by bloodthirsty geckos."

I placed in upon one of my digits. I don't know, however, which digit is which. As I admired the grain of the wood, I was assaulted by a trio of dog-headed men, who I put out of their misery. Such mutants could not be happy existing.

Log Entry 10, April 11, 1290:

There is a open emporium in this dungeon. Bizarre. How does one operate a Magical Wand Botique among feral savages and bloodthirsty geckos? Irregardlessly, after perusing Facerra's meager stock, I purchased a wand of confusion, to destroy my erstwhile mother-in-law's memory in case of a chance encounter.

I found another Magical Wand Botique, this time operated by a gnome by the moniker of Dunwoc. I do not purchase from gnomes, so I left that seedy establishment as soon as politeness permitted. 

Log Entry 11, April 49(?), 1290:

I stumbled upon an altar of Vehumet. In a moment of incredible stupidity, I prayed before it and devoted myself to him.

Log Entry 12, April 29 (back on track), 1290:

I found the entryway to an odd chapel where exactly 12 god's altars were present. What is the significance of the number 12, I wonder? why were the walls green? These are the questions I lie awake at night thinking about.

P.S. I drank water from the fountains by the chapel. Strange happenings ensued. First I was lethargic, then unconsolably angry, then confused. And then I had a magical feeling. I am befrazzled, without a doubt.

Log Entry 13, April 29, 1290:

I enter the seventh layer of the dungeon now. How many could there possibly be? This is honestly getting ridiculous and I have to resist the urge to destroy the stairs as I walk down them. Every monster I destroy turns into my erstwhile mother-in-law. I fear I may be going insane.

My earlier reflections on the nature of monster hostility can not possibly be correct. A mere cloak cannot create all this killing. My erstwhile family cannot afford to send these multitudes of assassins posing as monsters after me. A plot sinister is ahoof here.

Log Entry 14, April 30, 1290:

My latest Theorem on the Nature of Monster Hostility is that the brains of the cave's inhabitants are being affected, and they are all thoroughly hysterical. What could be causing this? A rift in the natural order caused by having geckos and quokkas in a cave is my only guess.

Log Entry 15, April 5 (Confused Again) 1290:

I found a Scroll which gave me a book full of ways to inflict evil on others, and I found a book of "Spatial Distortions." The spells inside have proven most useful for banishing the ersatz creatures which now to a man resemble my erstwhile mother-in-law in every way.

Another Scroll of Acquirement! I received a most delightful staff which aids my use of Unholy Foot Magicks. I think with all I have learned and received in this place, I may not need the Orb to exact my truculent, miasmic revengeance. But I shall continue on irregardlessly, as the orb can do nothing but help.

Log Entry 16, April 35 1290:

I enter "The Orcish Mines" today. Gold is piled everywhere. What is the purpose? All these orcs have all these massive sums of gold, and the illprudent greenskins sit with their thumbs in their rectums not doing anything with it! I am appalled, and will have to appropriate the gold for my of usagillization.

Log Entry 17, ... I don't know what the date is...

As I write this, my lifeblood spills upon the floor of the cavern, and the innumerable orc hordes, despite me killing scores of them, have overcome me. Even now they prepare to enact some barbaric ritual with my body. All I request, for whomever finds this Sybilline Spiel of Hogswald Pfifflebottom III the Malodorous, is to tell my erstwhile family, the Pfifflebottoms, they were right to banish me. My feet are really, really stinky.