Diary of Captain Nomed Oppenheimer - Entry Number 14

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The Lost Key Map

Sunday, November 8th, 907 of the Third Age

Either we have survived one hell of a ride, or I’ve died and gone to what my father must think this is the funny version of hell. After this ordeal, I think the entire crew of the Wanton Wench is entitled to plunder one city of their choice, just for the trouble of saving everyone on this stupid continent.

We had made it onto The Lost Key and had made it to the base of the volcano, when we heard the mechanical whirring noises up ahead. We were already on edge and were ready for a fight when we were surprised by the arrival of our local drunk Juju. He had taken time away from his post at the “bowels” of the ship to join us for this last leg of our journey. With our crew made whole again, we made our way up the ancient staircase to locate the wings and make the Wench whole again. At the top, we were met with our fears of what that whirring was, mechanical guards that happened to spit lava for fun. We had a hell of a time fighting these monstrosities, despite our ingenuity of using the wand of water spout and the frozen key to the frost giant’s lair to create a freezing gush to stop the creatures. They were numerous, and with our resources running low, we searched through the first few rooms of the lair and found their control room. Battered and bruised, we shut down the remaining constructs, and entered the central chamber of the volcano, to discover where exactly our wings were. Namely, taped to the back of a young bronze dragon.

The dragon went by the name of Galbraith, and it seemed he was deformed, as he did not have any wings of his own. His mother had kidnapped a group of gnomes who were studying the ancient village below and had forced them to strap the wings of the Wench onto Galbraith in an attempt to make him whole. The dragon would have us believe that the wings worked for him, and so refused to let us have them. He did tell us though that there was an artifact somewhere in the complex that could make him fly, and so he would trade that for the wings.

This deal led us on a frantic search through the mountain lair, only for us to receive several cuts and contusions, but no magical artifact. Bloodied, we returned to the dragon, who laughed and we realized we had been duped to buy time, most likely for his mother to return. Angered by this deception, we finally put away the nice pirate hats and began hacking the copper dragon to pieces. We slew the beast, while keeping the wings intact, insuring that we could use them quickly once we returned to the ship. The only things that survived this rampage were a small green dragon familiar of Galbraith, who flew off before Java could subdue him, and the gnomes that they had enslaved, who we agreed to let on our ship if they helped us put the wings into place.

We worked through the night to get the wings on and managed to get them set just as the outer ring of the storm was starting to hit the island. Without much time, we sacrificed a few minor items to get the Wanton wench afloat, and then we were off towards the eye of the storm. As we approached the center, the storm got progressively worse, as the rain turned to acid, and strange dark tentacles lashed out from the sky. We used the chalk of force to create some magical barriers, and we pushed through this horror. In the center of the storm, we saw its root: a tear in reality to another place that was dumping out the storm like blood from a wound. We sailed straight for the tear and just as we reached it, we broke the storm staff and with a ripple that floored the crew, the tear was sealed, and the storm started to dissipate.

There was much rejoicing and libations to go around, as our curse was lifted, and we were freed from the burden of the storm. Now we are well-conditioned pirates, with a magical flying ship, and no more mission to save the world. Let the good times begin.

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