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...
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