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The 57^th Day of Winter, 59 AD. (2/8/23)

This was it, the beginning of my very first expedition underground, and into a Dwarven outpost no less! What fortune! To think that all my years of studies of the legendary history of the Dwarves had finally come to this moment of actually stepping inside one of their edifices. We were immediately confronted with a choice once down the steps, left or right. On the wall directly ahead was an inscription in Ancient Dwarven, Obroam and myself could actually decipher it: Pain Brings Service. What on earth could it mean?

There was a freshly dead body, presumably of a cultist, laying in the passage to the right side. Something had burned off a third of his upper body, so we opted to go left, following a rhythmic metallic tapping, but finding that many corridors soon branched off the first, creating a twisting maze of tidy flagstone tunnels.

A metal chest was tempting, but seemingly guarded by obscure lights in the passage, and with little to no benefit to be seen from prizing it open, we opted to keep exploring. Around twisting passages some more, past metallic pipes running floor to ceiling that seem to contain a whistling sound. Some minor undead hovered above skeletons shackled to the wall and attacked. Fearful at first, our fighters found them to be easily dispatched, and we investigated the alcove, finding some sacks tucked in the corner. Obroam gave them a poke with his sword, raising a cloud of dust that sent him into a coughing fit.

I inspected the contents of the bags further, find 22 vials of various substances, liquids, powders, that very much resembled some of the magickal accoutrements our school masters instructed with. Stashing them to identify later, Obroam unshackled the skeletons and laid them out, remains of humans and littlings. Brother Calandro reminded us that the Dwarves were not known to have been the good guys, this could be evidence of that.

Pushing deeper into the maze-like passageways, we discovered an alcove housing a pedestal upon which sat the grotesque visage of a foul and loathsome god. Obroam was so offended by the sight of the thing he refused to even approach it. I got close, realizing it must be an idol of some sort of terrible deity, perhaps proof the Dwarves themselves were engaged in such blasphemous worship. Obroam implored Rem to pour holy water on the thing and destroy it, but Rem was so disgusted in his attempt to splash water on the thing and seeing the drops of holy water sizzle and evaporate before even making contact, Rem turned back, handed Obroam his holy water again, and walked away. Shifting Dwarven runes decorated the walls around the idol, but I have not been able to decipher them as of yet.

It is with great sadness that I must write of the death of one of our party today, a skilled archer that we hired who deserved a better fate, but died in a bloodthirsty ambush on us by a band of orcs and goblyns.

We were trying to make our way into an underground complex where we believe the mage we were seeking was taken and imprisoned, but that portal was proving difficult to open and we were too late… a flight of arrows was falling upon us before we’d even spotted our enemies. We had suspected that bestials were about, of course… the evidence of the ferociousness of their attack on the camp our guide Bove had led us to was plain to see. But the goblyns wore a rough camouflage and were obviously trained in stealth… while the orcs that were the muscle behind the attackers were hiding in the woods, waiting for their moment to appear and strike, and we were taken by surprise.

I was injured myself early in the battle, struck with an arrow while trying to chase down the nimble goblyn archers. Two other goblyn arrows flew towards me and would have struck me down, but with the help of the Brotherhood’s “Swat the Mosquito” stance, I was able to deflect them away with my bardiche. When the orcs appeared, I ran for the cover of the woods, where I could reposition and fire crossbow bolts at the enemy, rather than face down what appeared to be very capable line of 10 or more orc warriors. From what I could see from the tree line, the only members of our party that had gathered to face those warriors were Grel, Obroam on his mount… and a bear named Lady Cuddlesworth. Things looked grim indeed.

Thankfully, this is also when the tide began to turn due to two of the youngest in our party, Lindin and Phaedra. I’m told that their spells were key to this reversal of fortune, and in fact the leader of the orcs was put to sleep by magic. I was too busy to see any of this at the time, using guerrilla tactics to pick off goblyns with my crossbow as they entered into the forest hunting for me. The hunters became the hunted, and when I saw the last goblyn fleeing into the woods, I knew it was time to return to the main battle.

Taking up my bardiche, I charged into the rear of the orc line and drove the blade through an orc’s back. As the Brotherhood teaches us, sometimes survival depends on attacking from the Night, unseen. The rest of the party was fighting fiercely with the orcs as well, who showed no signs of surrender or retreat. They fought to their deaths, but we prevailed.

So now we must rest and recover from the battle. Rem, Lindin and I have scouted the entry passage, but our venture deeper into the complex and our rescue attempt must wait. I tell you Brothers, I am very much looking forward to being able to explore this area, as we’ve heard that it was once populated by dwarves, who have not been seen in the world in many years. The knowledge I might find down there may be invaluable! I will of course try and relate as much of that knowledge as I can to this journal, and if the Sisters shine on me will be able to return it to the monastery for safekeeping. But for now, I must be patient and hope that we can enter the portal first thing upon the morrow.

The 56th Day of Winter, 59 AD. (1/18/23)

This was an inauspicious day to join the experienced adventuring party as a fledgling magic-user. We found ourselves backed against an artificial mound, faced off against a line of ten uber-orcs and a handful of goblin archers that had ambushed the party out of the woods. Arrows rained down on us from above, finding their targets in hirelings spread across the mound and sending us scrambling. There was a strangled scream as someone fell behind me, punctured by an arrow. I had never experienced such a sortie before, what excitement!

Then there was a tense moment to see who would make the next move, when I, Phaedra the Prestidigitator stepped up, chanted the arcane words and made the hand passes, and caused a wave of drowsiness to hit the uber-orc leader and two of the goblins, causing them to drop to the ground in place, snoozing peacefully. Snarling in surprise, the rest of the orcs moved in to attack. The violent scrum of melee was all flashing swords, bear claws and sprays of blood, and I was terrified the bestials would overwhelm our line as they swarmed in.

Luckily, with bravery and panache, our fighters held the line, but while this was happening, I looked around in fright, after casting one spell I was utterly defenseless apart from my stave. The young warrior Gustave, seeing my distress, came running down the mound towards us, loudly proclaiming, “Don’t worry Phaedra, I’ll protect you!” before being promptly cut down by a goblin arrow buried deep into his chest. He hit the ground at my feet as I screamed “GUUSTAAVE!” in terror.

Seeing my companion fall at my feet suddenly filled me with a feeling of blinding rage as I unwisely charged into the heart of the battle, fully intent on playing golf with the orc-leader’s head. But alas, my strength failed me, and I was hardly able to dent his skull cap with my mightiest swing. It soon dawned on me how bad of a position I had put myself in, when an orc, wielding a strange weapon attacked me, disarming me of my stave and striking a violent blow across my body. Grievously injured, I reeled back and collapsed near Gustave while my companions bravely fought on and forced the orcish retinue into bloody capitulation.

The battle was over, everyone assessed the dead and the dying, laying on hands and bandaging wounds. Gustave would survive, but just barely, and was so injured as to be unable to move, making the journey back to town seem untenable, but the prospect of entering the dwarven underground with an injured party seems even more ill-advised. What are we to do? As I said, an inauspicious day indeed…

1st Entry – I will attempt here to record details of my travels, in the hopes that will be of some use to whoever may find this. If recent events are any indication, the party that I’ve aligned myself with will continue to uncover evidence of supernatural evil and Chaos, and if I and the others should meet an untimely end the knowledge may be valuable to anyone after that may also be trying to rid the world of these evils and make it a better place. My only request is that the finder of this eventually return it to the monastery of my Order, the Brotherhood of the Night.

Morning came with a bit of surprise today for Obroam and me, the sight of the rest of our travelling companions shuffling over to greet us, obviously hungover, bruised and battered, and naked as the day they were born.

After taking a moment to recover from this vision (we may never truly recover), we sprung into action, first securing whatever clothes we could get our hands on (Obroam and I chipped in some gold to help but mostly what we found was ill-fitting). Mort offered to go on au naturel, insisting that his own fur was enough of a covering, but I think it’s for the best that he wound up back in actual clothing.

It turns out our companions had left the inn the night before looking for more advanced revelry after our recent victories (I was celebrating in the manner of my Order, with a good bottle of wine). They had wound up at a rough local establishment which we returned to and learned some disturbing news from a poor fellow with very few teeth left in his head… that they had been attacked and robbed from a group that had splintered off from the Woodstalkers but had also kept that name. And through more digging we learned that they may have gone to make base in some very old, dangerous ruins in the area. If only that were the only disturbing news that we were to discover this day!

While checking in at the church on the poor prisoner we had freed from imprisonment & torture, Hazam (whom we also learned was a friend of the local loremaster, Blind Pete), Mila confided in us that she’d seen the head priest Adran acting suspiciously. Inspecting his room, we discovered a box under his bed that was emanating intense warning feelings towards Obroam’s senses as a paladin. I determined that it was trapped with a poison needle, so we wound up taking Mort’s suggestion of opening it with blunt objects rather than toying with the lock.

Inside was an unholy symbol that could only be used in the worship of an evil deity of Chaos.

And so, we now have a new priority: we must hunt down Adran and confront him over this. We were able to convince the local authorities of the need, and the plan is for Obroam and I to go and visit Blind Pete to learn what more we can of this object, while the others complete a mission of their own, and then we give chase to what appears to be a priest that has fallen to the sway of evil. May the Night look kindly upon us!

With the enemy on the back heel, we pushed on, attempting to smash through the door. Not an easy endeavor as it was quite study and things were being piled against it.. Before we could breach the door however, the two leaders appeared upon the balcony, wearing plate and bearing unnatural weapons. The robed figured used a smoking implement to summon the thing we feared most in this campaign, the wraith. Saying a prayer to Tangadorin, I left the door to my fellows and went to interpose myself between the unholy abomination and my friends.

As the party worked the door, and unwholesome aura and wailing grew closer until i saw it. Like a thing dredged up from nightmares, part skeletal and part unnatural blackish green energy, a ghostly vestige of a damned soul.  Margo and I readied flasks of holy water and tossed them upon the creature as it approached. This did little to detour it as it reached out with is hand in an attempt to violate me with its touch. But Tangadorin Protects!!! His holy all seeing light shined before me and staved off the creatures boney claws.  Quickly following this Egill was able to turn the undead monstrosity, sending it back to the building it oozed from. 

Turning my attention back to the main building, a skirmish was taking place at the entrance between the last defenders of the dark ones and my team mates. Short work was made of these two and the final push was upon us as the leaders of this group of villains came down the stairs. Unbeknownst to me, Pickles had detained them up stairs for several minutes by jamming a door, buying us the time we needed to turn the dead and defeat the defenders.

With nothing left but them, we advanced to finish this terrible mess. Blows were traded back and forth, their plate armor making it quite difficult to land a decisive blow and even allowing their head priest to push past us and out the door. The necromancer used his magics to puppeteer our priest Egill, having him move in the way of our attacks and defend him, but it was for not as my blade stuck as true as Tangadorins light pierces all darkness, laying him low.

Now we give chase to the last member of this dark coven, he shall not escape justice!

After regrouping, our company advanced upon the den of the Dark Ones with caution. Not knowing if they had more ambushers lying in wait. The abomination that was once Houden shambled to meet us, speaking in a hollow and unwholesome voice, asking us to join them and that we would only perish if we fought. I had his men give it a volley in response. The undead retreated into the building from our fire. With no other deterrent, we set up for the conflict.

We had the charmed orc commander open the doors, and then the fight was on. We gave the forces inside a volley before their clerics told them to advance, what followed was a bloody affair.  A hoard of goblins and a pair of orcs along with Houden, all undead, fell upon us. Blade cut, spears stabbed, blood and ichor ran freely, and people died. Though they knew the risks and their desire to to right by their friend, Houden’s men fell on by one. First Mitch, then Duncan, Larry, and Stew. Each brought down by the foul creatures and their relentless onslaught. Mal, though wounded is still alive and I will do my best to keep him that way, it will already be a sorrowful task to dig five graves tonight. Two of the Dark Ones were also slain in this melee, one being distracted by our Illusionist’s spell, rendering him ineffective for the fight. The Last of their ilk retreated inside and judging from the sounds has mustered a last stand of sorts.

Today shall be the last of this effort. Now is time for the final push, May Tangadorin’s all Seeing Light illuminate our path to victory. 

1st day of Winter, 59AD

Now is the time. We make for what I hope is our final push into Girffin’s Keep. After recovering from our wounds, the party has hardened their will and we are determined. I spoke with Houden’s men and the ones who helped before have agreed to help us deal with these dark ones and reclaim Houden’s body. We have planned to take out the orc bowmen atop the moathouse first. The Men at Arms will provide distractions from range with their slings, while a small team scales the walls to take the fight to them on the roof. Should all go as planned that will leave a small number of Clerics, a Necromancer, and their undead to deal with.

But….we learned they have one true horror for use to contend with, a Wraith. My will is Strong and my Faith in Tangadorin true, may his light that Shines through my blade be enough to vanquish the dread specter should it appear. I fear not for my own life, as it is Tangadorin’s should it be cut short. But Houden’s death still weighs heavily upon my mind. I fear his body has already been turned into a vile undead form. I cannot stomach the thought of more of my companions meeting similar fates. By his all seeing lighted eyes, may Tangadorin protect us.