From the notes of Alric Brethencourt of Veluna
Moonday turning Godsday, 18th day of the Readying, inside the strongroom of the ruined moathouse
To stay or to depart. Our fellowship cannot make up its mind. Despite the exhortations of our prisoner March to seek safety, I find it unwise to give up the advantage we have gained here today. Leaving these formidable defenses in the hands of the enemy once again would prove foolhardy, no doubt. Next time we might not be so fortunate as to take the ruins without the loss of life on our side. No, we must make camp here for the night; I fear not the wrath of Lareth. But before we make ourselves too comfortable, we must make sure the remainder of the moathouse is cleared of any potential threats. Who knows where the Blackhand agents might be waiting, hidden, hoping for an opportune moment to catch us unaware.
While Ellaria, Weebrian and Spugnoir searched the room where Hal escaped by means of a secret exit, and Madrak, Wilstan and Chryseis guarded the stairs leading deeper down, as from the bowels of the moathouse mysterious noises had been heard, Kazireh and I investigated the rooms on the other end of the landing. The floors here were caked with dirt and some doors were almost inaccessible, due to the large amounts of rubble from the crumbling ceiling which had accumulated over the years. We discovered a room repurposed for skinning game; though none of the pelts lying about were of such fine quality as those we found in the giant's possession. Behind a second door a small bedroom was revealed, which showed signs of faded splendour, as well as those of a more recent habitation. A large set of double doors, locked, barred the entrance to a larger room, but before attempting to break them down, we deemed it wise to be thorough and to explore the last room left unchecked. Here we found a small kitchen, rife with the stench of mildew; but there was some other odour as well, and I had the feeling something here was definitely amiss. Went in to check the cupboards for their contents, and at this point came under attack by a creature, which later I learned was some sort of giant tick. It nimbly jumped from the top of the pantry onto my back, and sunk its mouthparts deep into my neck. Luckily my companions reacted quickly, but alas, not very competently. The druid Tuffnell had joined the fray by then, and together with Kazireh they tried to burn the tick off, but as their attempts failed, I threw myself to the ground, hoping to crush the creature beneath me, but again to no avail. The last thing I remember a burning torch was shoved straight into my neck, slipping between breastplate and gorget, and I blacked out from the excruciating pain. My companions told me later that Tuffnell quickly healed the wounds using his magical clay, but I remember very little of what transpired next that night...