Spindrift on the Astral Sea

Of Cat Piss and Gnomish Lace

A Custodial Closet

From the Journal of Arroan Roj-Aires: Day 3, Early Afternoon: I am feeling much stronger now thanks to the healing powers of Laurel. As we are resting now, I shall continue to recount the battle that has recently ensued.

After I removed the face of the last living corpse with impressive bow-work, the sanitation engineer grew quite angry and hurled a small vial of cleaning solution at us. The solution came contacted the skin of Aquelle (she corrected me on the spelling of her name after rudely reading this journal without permission) and Pieter. Both fell to the ground in a state of paralysis. The cleaning solution apparently was very potent.

Laurel used her considerable powers to quickly heal Aquelle, who from the ground threw her sword at the janitor, missing him by a proverbial mile. The offensive custodian lunged at Laurel, but I stopped him dead in is tracks with the power of my mighty flaming longbow. He recovered quickly though, and unleashed a blinding light that left us all disoriented. I could see nothing, but I thought I could hear the sound of a blade striking a table, and the sound of the dastardly janitor laughing. I took a wild shot at him, but I must have missed badly, as he taunted me without mercy.

By this time I had a roaring migraine unlike any I had ever felt before. I have learned since that the others experienced the same. My vision began to come back, and I swear I saw a golden owl swoop in and provide some kind of medical aid to Aquelle. I would like to ask Laurel if this actually happened, but I do not want her to think that I have lost my faculties.

Aquelle, still on the ground, attempted again to strike the janitor with her sword, and again she missed. Pieter, summoning incredible strength, rose to his feet in dramatic fashion, only to be knocked down by the despicable custodian, who by this time was strangely wielding a sickle and a broom. Out of frustration I fired an arrow in the general direction of the janitor, only to strike the nostril of the portrait behind him. He turned toward me, but before he could act Aquelle slashed him with her blade.

It was at this time that the most spectacular thing happened. The proud ocelot, wounded and angry, strutted over to the painting I had shot with my arrow, turned his rear toward it, raised his tail, and let loose a magnificent golden, pungent stream that melted all of the paint of off the canvas. He then moved to a different location and repeated the action. He did it again and again. It was as though he were carrying inside of him an infinite amount of urine. He is a magic cat, after all.

Within seconds the room reeked of urine and territorial marking pheromones. The janitor stood wide-eyed and red-faced, then turned to us and said, “I will kill all of you dirty f*cks!” The ocelot let loose a golden shower upon a beautiful lace tablecloth. “That was gnomish lace! Made of real gnomes!” screamed the janitor. As I was growing tired of this asshole, I sent an arrow straight into one of his sinus cavities. As he stumbled back, Laurel knocked him to his knees. I then watched in utter amazement as Aquelle froze her blade, teleported across the room, and cleaved the janitor’s skull straight down to the brain pan. He toppled forward, his last words being “gnomish lace.”

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