<strong>From the Journals of M. Campbell Garrett, Journalist Extraordinaire and Generally Amazing Person</strong><br/><br/>*NOTE to the EDITOR:  Please make me sound more awesome in your edits.  I know that it's hard to make me sound any<em>more</em>awesome, but you can't have too much of a good thing.<br/><br/>Now what was a rock star world-class adventurer like myself doing with such a motley crew of butchers?  I wish, dear reader, that I was there excavating the deepest, staunchest secrets from the Karrnathi front.  No, instead, I was serving time.  Time owed to the great Capitol of the Eastern Kingdom, Korth, for crimes of debauchery.  It all began when my supplier and P.R. agent, Brotno the Dwarf, acquired an electric car, four belt pouches of glitter and an irresistible desire to get laid by the premier goblinoid prostitute, Enrica.  Somehow we ended up being chased by ravenous dust clouds that chomped at the ankles of timid men and ate brave men whole.  I didn't want to get eaten, and neither did Brotno, so that scumhead kicked the electric car into gear and elbowed the earth elemental in the face to get us moving at an amazing velocity (read:  15 miles per hour).  This was too much for Brotno, and it was too much for the elemental, and so we wound up in a tavern, upside down, with the earth elemental pinning us.  We were also charged with a number of other crimes, such as public exposure, assaulting a member of the clergy and a host of others, but to be very frank, I do not remember any of it.  I was really, really high, and there were dust clouds chasing after me.<br/><br/>And dear reader, you never want to be caught by a dust cloud.<br/><br/>My time in prison was exciting.  I took copious notes on the characters and scenes, and I might have made a few contacts.  It all really depends.  You can't ever<em>count</em>on people when they are in prison.  One shakedown and suddenly they aren't the contacts to have in the yard.  They are yesterday's news, and it all dawns on them that they're stuck behind those iron bars and spit-wad walls.  But I can't relate.  I'll never be yesterday's news.<br/><br/>How did I get here, in this small hall at the Rekkenmark?<br/><br/>I was introduced to this humdinger of a woman named Major Saithe, the leader of this elite crew of hags and weirdos.  Major Saithe is the enemy.  I was introduced to her by my friends Led and Zed.  Led and Zed are guards in Karrnathi, and real nice fellows, too.  One of them said:<br/><br/>"Major, by order of the King, we are placing Mr. Garrett in your custody.  He is to be your prisoner."<br/><br/>"Yes," said Led, I think, "We can't keep him any more.  Real embarrassing business."<br/><br/>"You see, he has escaped prison.  Three times."<br/><br/>"It really wouldn't be so bad if he had escaped and we had caught him again, but each time, he just wandered back into prison.  We weren't suspicious, the first time.  See, he was as high as a kite, so we thought him a numb skull.  The second time, we just thought he was the most unfortunate soul ever.  Third time, well, we got curious.  And... well, it's very embarrassing."<br/><br/>"Mr. Garrett has written three articles on how to escape our prisons*," Led said, I think.<br/><br/>I could only grin at the Major and give her a thumbs up from my manacled hands.  I felt like chewing on a caltrop, because I knew I was grinning like a shit-eating dickhead.  I've looked at myself often in the mirror to know what my face looks like at all times, and even I dislike my shit-eating grin.  I can't imagine what that nasty, ghoul-limbed troglodyte of a woman thought.  Probably surprise, since she couldn't find it in her heart to just kill me, and let me tell you, she's the sort that will as soon as kill you then look at you.  Maybe she felt joy, because the jobs at the Rekkenmark, they aren't of the variety that you just walk back from.  She knew I was dead meat.  Whatever.  It meant an exclusive.  Those parchment writers were so stuck on the fact that I wrote a few articles describing the inefficiency of their prison system that they got a hard-on when I said that I'd coast with their gung-ho naturalists.<br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=53854.msg2491415#msg2491415">Quote from: TheGlyphstone on 28-11-2009, 03:05:59</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Acknowledgement, understood. A potential hazard does present itself, Major. This mission has been classified covert, as indicated by the use of Emerald Claw iconography. However, my chassis and form are unusual in a significant degree, and likely quite difficult to disguise. Total extermination of all witnesses encountered, hostile or otherwise, calculates to significantly outside what would be considered acceptable collateral damage. Thus, to minimize necessary noncombatant deaths, I would request requisitioning an illusionary disguise, or magical item capable of producing such. If this is not available, clarification will be needed as to priorities of mission success versus government deniability."<br/></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>"Oi!  Wot's the furnace jibbin' 'bouts?"  Surprised that this is how I talk?  Me too.  I can't shake the accent.   "Oh, I get it!  He's sellin' insurance!"  I'm not sure whether or not I like Mark.  He seems like the sort of fellow you don't want to house your pastries.  In fact, he's probably the first guy you want to house your enemy's pastries.  But that means that I get to hang out with him, and I can't find anything heart-warming about his frosty exterior.    "No?  Den' what's dis business of calculatin'?  Pfft.  I say bait an' trick 'em, an' I can get my ex--"  I eyed the major,  "Once dis' mission's been declassified, dat' is."<br/><br/>--<br/>*<em>Ten Things You Should Know When You Are Arrested In Korth, How to Escape Prisons in Korth, and Developing Useful Weapons in Prison Whilst in Korth</em>, by Garrett Campbell;  The Korrenberg Chronicle, Vol III (Ep XXXXVI, XXXXVIII, XXXXIX), 998 YK.