A Night on the TownDate: 11/02/2018 Time: 1.5 hours
Journal of Freedrik “Siggy” Siggurson, M.D.
Gloomhaven University ‘66
Prelude – A Night on the Town
Having finished my studies of the mind for the evening I decided to retire to the Sleeping Lion for an evening of food, drink, and most importantly, the study of behavior. When imbibing various wines, beers, and liquors I’ve noted that suppressed conduct often emerges which would, under normal circumstances, never come to the light of day. It is why I find taverns such as the Sleeping Lion an excellent place to pursue my studies of the mind.
My reward this evening was stimulating both to the intellect and to the spirit of the body. I’ve always taken some pride in ensuring my physical prowess did not suffer because of my emersion in academic affairs. My daily workout at the gym and practice with the scalpel proved most useful this evening, but I travel in advance of my tale. Let me return to the moment.
I was seated in a corner booth sipping a fine Copperneck Granite 18, distilled by the Orchids who live on and under that inhospitable mountain rage, when the opportunity to study the minds of the patrons presented itself. There was some disturbance; perhaps a spilled drink or an incautious word between patrons. Who can say? In any case an altercation ensued. Normally I retreat to a place of safety and observe the behavior of the various combatants but a fellow next to me had the temerity to take a swipe at me with a steak knife and I found, as they say, my blood at the boil. An interesting phenomenon to say the least. When presented with danger the body is clearly flooded with some sort of chemical agent that produces visceral reactions. Some flee while others fight. In this case the later outnumbered the former and soon the entire Sleeping Lion was embroiled in what I believe is termed a Bar Room Brawl.
Luckily, I had my scalpel at the ready and began to give at a somewhat better rate than I got. I noted several other patrons who seemed likewise skilled in the pugilistic arts. There was a massive Inox who cracked skulls with what can only be described as intense delight, at least the smile on her face indicated as much. A little fellow wielded a knife with great skill and moved with almost preternatural speed. He also used the chaotic nature of the moment to scoop up coins and valuables that fleeing customers had incautiously left laying about. The look of greed his eyes was unmistakable. Finally, there was an older woman with the stained hands of Tinkerer who was clearly quite capable with a cudgel.
It was the matter of only a few moments before us four stood astride the ruined room like a quartet of colossuses while the wounded moaned and the unconscious lay in pools of their own blood. What a glorious feeling it was. I felt truly alive for perhaps the first time in my life. No doubt the product of whatever chemicals were flowing through my body, but not simply a phantom of my mind. The feeling was real and undeniably invigorating.
Afterwards a woman, dressed in fine clothes with diamonds in her ears, approached the four of us and asked to see us in a side booth. I suspect she believes us to be an Adventuring Band and means to hire us for who knows what escapades. I found myself in a willing mood and agreed to meet with her. Soon I will learn the names of my companions and continue this journal.
I suspect my studies of the mind will graduate from an academic environment to that of the visceral world. It will be dangerous, most certainly, but I feel the risk is worth the reward. I will learn more of the nature of the mind traveling the wilds rather than simply sitting day after day in a classroom.
Let the adventure begin!