At my behest, we stayed another hour in the Warrens, searching for some sort of divine fortune that would help us in the battle against the troll army. Collins received a painful burning, scarring his face horrendously, in the sort of manner that, in the arena, would make him more popular.
In the Warrens, however, we found nothing. At the end of patience, Baldin began to head back to Chendl. Giving up hope in turn, the rest of us followed. I don’t know what I was searching for. Maybe I just wanted to delay the inevitable.
I have fought man, beast, and troll. But I do not wish to fight an army.
Life is facing off with the impossible, no matter how heavy one’s heart.
We’ve traveled back to Chendl from the Warrens. Approaching Chendl, we found a wake of burnt farms and corpses of villagers. We just managed to save a single family. Worry still clouded Baldin’s face, but I knew that this victory warmed his heart.
I have my suspicions, however, that while I am writing this, he is sexually defiling the farmers’ horses.
The town has been sieged by the trolls. We defended a gate from an attack, almost by ourselves. We were swarmed by trolls, nothiks, and even the blind grimlocks, well away from their dark caves. Entering the gate, we defended an aquatic attack from the river.
Baldin was clearly disturbed by the carnage taken place in the city. I told him, simply, “we’re doing what we can.” I could say no more truths.
A major attack of wyverns and a manticore-mounted troglodyte had me down. I was on my back throwing cards, fighting for my life. Collins, I believe, was hidden in a building, crying himself to sleep. Alteris, however, was reaping the sky with his necrotic magics, tearing wyverns apart in rot and decay.
Collins redeemed himself shortly after by jumping through a window like a true warrior. With pop-tart filling on the side of his mouth, no less.
Shortly after that, the seeds the troglodyte had been spreading burst the ground and roads into giant vines. Some of the creatures born of the earth attacked us. Horatio heroically took change, using his primal magics, taking both the form of a relentless panther, and the wild shape of a fucking faggot. Who’s the douchebag now, Ron?
After winning the fight, I managed to take the grim and still sinewy bone necklace of the troglodyte rider. Added to my macabre collection of burnt troll hands, no one will doubt our effectiveness as death dealers.
Meeting with the towns true saviors, the elven army come from the nearby feywild portal. We met with them, congratulated the other for surviving, and took count of the dead. Life is about saving who we can.
According to the information Alteris and the sage, Rualis, has found that an artifact used by Skalmad will have resurrected him. This explains the mysterious magical immolation of Skalmad upon his defeat and his promise of return.
Further, if this artifact, the Stone Cauldron, is used a second time, the ancient troll king, Vard, will return.
We have learned that the cauldron is a site, a magic spring, once able to raise entire armies from the dead. And surely, the cauldron has much to do with Skalmad’s recent rise to power.
A portal to the Emerald Dream must be located within the Warrens, to serve as a point for Skalmad’s travel. We will find it. We will find it, we will tear his eye from his still-living body, and we will desecrate his corpse in the same manner his army has done to the good people of Chendl. Life is about following your enemies across worlds in order to exact vengeance.