Disastrum Play Report 4

17 Nov, 2024

Disastrum 4

Dramatis Personae

• Balthazar the Magnificent, Magic-User 1
• Tristan, Specialist 1
• Bree the Absent, Fighter 1
• Ezra, Commensalist Specialist 1

[Translator's Note: Careful readers may note that there is a discrepancy between the continuum of dates laid out in this report. In truth, there is no record of what happened in the interim days. Balthazar's notes seem to take on a much more haggard, weary hand than they previously did, and in general his writing seems to become much terser and simpler in construction. What happened at his juncture seems to have died with him.]

The Report

Our journey continued on the morning of the 10th of April in the year of our Lord 1633. By our reckoning, we had approximately one day's worth of food remaining before we exhausted our supply, so we decided to return to the fork in the river where the giant cicada grove happened to be.

This travel revealed itself to be particularly perilous, such that before the midday point of the 10th we found ourselves hopelessly disoriented amidst the Virginia wilderness. 'Ere long we encountered a peculiar fungal mound, flanked on all sides by tall puffballs, nearly the size of the human head. Tristin, recognizing that some puffballs may be consumed, investigated. In his haste, he inhaled a particularly large cloud of spores. Thankfully, the year is 1633 and fungal infections don't exist yet.

The night passed uneventfully, although I dreamt of fowl creatures consuming myself and my companions.

The morning of the 11th proceeded calmly, although our dwindling food supply and inability to locate ourselves continued to be vexing. Tristan's behavior on this morning became erratic and troubled, referring to Balthazar the Intellectually Fertile as "A good priest of Italy". Truly, I walk among strange lands with strange folk.

Travel proceeded uneventfully, if the state of being hopelessly lost counts as uneventful. During the last portion of the day, our Commensalist friends shouted out, as if caught in a struggle. Balthazar the Boldly-Strides-Into-Danger was quick to come to the aid of our newfound friends, coming upon a struggle between the group and this horrible amalgamation of hands, arms, legs, mouths, and all manner of human appendages. Regardless of the horror of the creature, Balthazar the Wielder of the Kaleidoscopic Spray makes short work of them! A moment of solace from the wicked thing's onslaught was all our Commensalist friends needed to make their escape, and Balthazar the Well-Rested was eager to break away from the sight of this creature also.

We reconvened after some time without Tristan, who I did not see again. Balthazar the Empath thinks of him often, but does not know of his final fate.

The night passed uneventufully, besides the absolutely horrible creature that assailed our camp in the middle of the night and forced us to hide shivering in the trees.

The next day we Finally regained our bearings, returning to the Cicada forest post-haste¹. There was nothing encountered along the way. The hours before dusk were spent frantically gathering handfuls of writhing cicadas for sustenance.

During the night, my sleep (which I was excited to return to after scoring an intellectual victory by transcribing strange dashes and lines in the sky into my spellbook perfectly and with total understanding) was interupted by Ezra, one of the Commensalists whom I was most close with; he awoke me to point me towards a mirror sphere, floating in the sky above, that gave us a convex vantage point into our neighboring surroundings. It was not worth being woken up.