Getting as uncomfortable as an elf inside a mountain during our short time in New Haven. This city is crawling with dragonborn troops, and my companions seem unsure of how to proceed. Beginning to get the feeling we may be in over our heads, as certain death seems to loom around every corner. Maybe it’s time to move on to another location, the small village of Hommlet perhaps…
Finally we have fled the occupied town of New Haven. Wanted to liberate the city in which we all met, but security seemed too tight. Large garrisons of dragonborn troops have apparently flooded into the hapless city. But this I promise – we shall return!
Once again we have entered the miserable Misty Marshes, and I begin to wonder what in the nine hells are we thinking. I swear by Moradin’s beard I hate this place, yet here I sit cold and wet once again. Well on the bright side, I seem to be holding up well compared to my half-orc friend Robyn. The poor bastard has all but stopped talking, and now just sits all bundled up while shivering uncontrollably.
Finally out of the deepest reaches of the marshes and pushing toward what we hope is dry land. Been in this miserable place nearly ten days, and am all but sure I have moss and mold growing in more than one unmentionable location.
Yesterday found ourselves surrounded by an entire lizardfolk tribe near the Queen’s Stone! Boy did they seems angry! Undoubtedly due to Fin’s little message etched into the stone column during our prior visit, and then Nightmare’s severed head being placed next to the message for all to see. Lizardfolk were everywhere. Thank Moradin it was foggy, or keeping a low profile would have been nearly impossible. My companions kept telling me to be more quiet, but what in the nine hells do they expect, I’m nearly up to my impressive dwarven abs in wet muck, so how do expect me to stay quiet? I CAN’T be any more quiet! Soon we decided to send Robyn north of the stone column to create a diversion, before we attacked the leaders standing atop the Queen’s Stone. After taking them out Fin severed their heads as well, and then placed them atop the stone column, before carving another message atop the stone – “You Were Warned!”. Then we quietly departed into the distant fog.
Finally after fourteen days we spot the small village of Hommlet on the horizon. Sent Robyn ahead to scout out the situation. Guard patrols walk the streets, but their numbers seem to range from four to six men per patrol, a manageable number if trouble should arise. After a quick discussion we agree to follow the river into town before taking up refuge underneath a local bridge. There we sat in near silence, or as silent as a dwarf can be expected to be anyway, while listening in on the various conversations of passerby’s up above. It appears that the town folk are now living in fear. Many folks now dread what may lay ahead in their future, and all hope seems to be diminishing quickly. One group of guards were overheard expressing their dislike of Hommlet, and expressed hope that they might be reassigned to the army to the south sometime soon. His companions seemed less optimistic however.
We made our way to the castle walls in the southeastern corner of Hommlet. Guards stood at the manor entrance, and visible holes in the walls show the tell tale signs of a siege. We suspected that Lieutenant Ballister of the Queen’s Army may have taken up residence there. We approached using the trees for cover before charging the guards. The guards met us outside the large manor gates as arrows assaulted us from the nearby building. But things seemed well at hand until Altain disappeared inside the manor behind enemy lines. Damn fool, all I could think of was how he’s going to get himself killed, I swear! Then he suddenly appeared near Fin a few short seconds later, but much worse for the wear if I do say so myself. Then, just as quickly, a nine foot tall angel suddenly appeared right behind Altain. But this angel was different than any other I had ever heard of, as it seemed to radiate an essence of pure evil, and it soon sheathed itself in a cloak of chromatic colors that inflicted severe pain unto any who dare strike. The angel also carried two large swords and struck Altain repeatedly until unconscious, and if not for Fin’s gift of healing from the god’s he would have most assuredly perished. It was also in this battle that we finally killed Lieutenant Ballister who we believe to be in charge of the occupying forces of Hommlet. The battle had quickly turned into one we will not soon forget, and we count ourselves fortunate to still be alive.