The PaxLair Press, Chesapeake (PaxLair Times) – April 23, 2012 – by Ashlynn – While rioters and protesters still take to the streets of our fair cities, most conflicts have experienced something of a lull giving our dear citizens a little breathing room. No doubt such respite will be brief and we should prepare ourselves for worse to come!
Last week court mage Balandar entered the ruined lair of Exodus with a band of volunteers in search of the strange mechanical wonders within – specifically something called a Nexus. It is rumoured that others across the realm have been removing some of these large devices and it seemed Balandar was determined to get one of his own before they were all gone. A not all too unfamiliar feeling amongst some members of the citizenry during past events!
Eventually and after much skirmishing with the minions of Exodus, a nexus was hauled out of the dungeon and brought to his residence in Moonglow where it was quickly erected outside (almost in the blink of an eye). At the time however, Balandar did not know how to activate it and everyone soon left thinking that was the end of it.
A few days later the volunteers were summoned back to the mage’s residence along with Captain Gwen. Balandar had figured out the contraption, or so he thought, and he intended to activate it! After speaking the gargish words “In Vas Rel Chronos”, a strange rift appeared near the nexus and a host of Exodus minions poured through looking for blood.
After fighting them off, we entered a hole near the contraption and found ourselves inside the previously sealed off ruins of Paws where we were accosted by what looked like the previous residents. Whether they were undead or not, I could not be certain but they had murder in mind and we were forced to bring them down.
As the expedition drew to a close an argument erupted between Balandar and Gwen with accusations and insults exchanged. It was at this point that everyone decided it best to leave though some made for the tavern rather than a bed.
As for what happened? I suspect that perhaps the rift pulled us back into Paws’ past but I cannot be certain. Whatever the case, these nexi are clearly a threat to our realm and should be destroyed rather than experimented with. I have heard rumours of mechanical creatures appearing suddenly beside other nexi and I get the feeling the whole thing is some devious plot.
The Goblin Art Faire
While it is something of stretch to call it art, the Goblins of Pitmuck intend to host another of the finger painting events in the coming weeks. What they use for paint pigment and canvas, I dare not think about but for those looking for a little low culture, this event is for you!
A specific date has not yet been fixed but Ozog informs me that those interested should keep an eye on the news both here and on the Tome o’ Stratics.
The Demon Market
I found a curious item in my mailbox a few days ago. A strange, charred letter mentioning something called a Demon Market. What a demon market is precisely, I am unsure but I get the impression it my involve a market. And demons. And perhaps demons selling wares at a market.
It is all just so complex! If such a thing is true and does indeed happen, I can not say how safe such an occasion would be but I imagine one could find all manner of wonders (and horrors) at such a thing.
Unfortunately, no date or time was mentioned, only a location – the City of Moonglow. I shall endeavour to uncover more soon!
I think that might be blood on the paper there but I’m not sure. I suspect that is not a positive sign. You have been warned.
Rat Problem? No Problem. Expert Ratcatcher with 20 years experience. Fast, efficient and thousands of rats to my name. References available upon request. Rates set at 50gp per rat caught. Contact Erst the Ratcatcher at the Salty Dog Tavern.
I AM REALLY MAD BALANDAR. ALMOND SMELLIN BOX LEFT IN YOUR MAILBOX PLEASE LOOK. – Grumpy
The tastiest meat! The tenderest bites! Our diced red meat might not look like cow, but you’ll never taste anything else like it! Come buy from my stall! – Helena of Britain
Thistle. When the clock strikes three. You are summoned. – Anonymous