Of Loss

I write this as we leave Rittersmarche, my thoughts are scattered at the time as my entry will be below:

I have seen death. I have witnessed death. I have given death. Death is a constant in the lives of these mortals.

I write this as I have recently lost someone who has a special meaning in my life. Burton Thunderblood. The dwarf who so many years ago deferred his healing to me, again deferred himself so his fellow warriors (to include myself) could continue to draw breath.

We arrived in Rittersmarche and our worst fears were true. The town was under sway (unbeknownst to itself) of false pretenses. The mayor Hood; while a good man is completely worthless and wastes air when he breathes. We tried to warn him that something was wrong at the manor but he assured us Grudi (the Prince's emissary) said everything was fine. When we asked him what Grudi looked like it did not match our recollections of what he looked like.

So me and my companions decided to keep watch of the manor, and got spurred on by the original Patriots of Ulek (I saw this as a mockery because this is the group that the counsel had originally sent that had enraged the Prince). It turns out they live and they are doing quite well.

They are led by a female ranger named Shayla of the Suss who truly has the personality of a puddle of mud. Shame really because physically she is truly quite breathtaking. I see a lot of pain in her face, and she is fortunate because most half elf women have the broader human shoulders and she does not. Quite lovely, just needs to smile some more.

The group also includes a sailor from Hardby who goes by Kildare Redding. I fear I have insulted him when I called him a dirt sailor. I believe he is truly the leader of this group. He is smart and must be a magi, although I do not recognize his name so his training and schooling must be suspect at best. An intriguing fellow that I look forward to engaging in conversation with.

Another member of this group is a halfling who like the ranger has the personality of a brick. I never did catch his name. He didn't say much and didn't smile. Clearly the rogue. He too looked like he had a lot on his mind. I figure he is originally from this area but has spent a long time away; living on the streets somewhere i imagine.

My favorite Patriot is clearly the cleric, Perry. They had to have pulled this man out of some wondering carnival show. He stands tall nearly 6 and a half feet. He is lanky, pale, and completely daft looking. He has bright orange hair than explodes off his head like some untrimmed shrubbery.

Truer patriots I have never seen. That being said, they have done well up to this point and are really quite a brave group of individuals (or extremely dense).

They began the siege on the manor which took us by surprise and we immediately joined forces. We headed straight to the vault figuring that is where they went; well they didn't. They went upstairs.

Either way, this is where dear Burton met his demise. Drazil and Ruggin were occupied fighting off many orcs and goblins and my back was turned providing them support. Burton fought behind us by the stairs. We were all alerted when he yelled the words "By Moradin".

As it turns out there was a cleric of Incabolus creeping in behind us. Burton's actions prompted the cleric to Hold him and as he did a vicious worg leaped on him and ripped his face off.....

Ruggin went berzerk, nearly knocking me to the ground. He was made impotent by another spell. I ended up destroying the cleric and further destroyed the rest of the enemy. The Patriots showed up later with the Graf of this town.

We found later a group of prisoners laying underneath dead and bleeding bodies. This was an abhorrent find. Turrosh Mak and his minions are the epitome of evil. The madness of our discovery and evacuating the prisoners we did find did not lend us time to pause and mourn our fallen brother. So I do now.

We destroyed the manor and let it burn. Drazil insisted on letting Burton burn where he died. Another honor thing I don't understand but I respect more and more.

I don't know what the cleric had in store for us, but if Burton had not warned us I might not be able to sit here and write this meaningless drivel.

As it stands, we are evacuating the people of Rittersmarche and trying to get them to Havenhill. We travel with the Patriots and honestly would not be able to do this without them. They have turned out to be quite valuable.

I am enjoying the sailor more and more. He has even got some good quips in there at me which I always appreciate. It gets quite dull being the smartest one around all the time.

Kildare was able to Charm one of Turrosh's Chiefs which was really a brilliant move. He has let us know that an ambush is likely because Turrosh had planned for an inevitable retreat from Rittersmarche, and from what it sounds it will be alot. I have a couple charges left in my sword and I do not plan on letting them go to waste.

I feel I have gone off course in this entry, so let me bring it back to the point. Burton Thunderblood, you were a wonderful dwarf and an honorable dwarf. You will be missed and your passing only reminds us that we are one unfortunate incident from being removed from this plane. I hope you drink well with Moradin and continue to watch over your fellow Thunderbloods; myself included. We will continue to fight in your honor.

The Company I Keep

Everyday I think of the first time I met Drazil and his cousins/brothers - whatever they are. I squinted in the sun with blood running down my forehead and I remember seeing a large rough hand reaching down for mine and pulling me out from under the dead orcs.

"You should be fine master elf." The dwarf said to me, his gawdy golden tooth glimmering back at me - hit other teeth white as ivory.

I remember sitting on a log and looking over at the dwarf talking to another dwarf. The dwarf he spoke to sat on the ground holding his right arm grimacing in pain. The wounded dwarf shook his head and nodded it towards my direction. The gold toothed dwarf shrugged his shoulders and came back to me.

"My stubborn friend insists you have this", the dwarf said as he reached into his pouch and pulled out a potion I instantly recognized as a potion of healing.

I think of this encounter everyday because at that moment I had realized alot of the things I was told throughout my life were misnomers. I got a hint of it during my schooling but the cut-throat nature of that business brought out the evil in everyone.

I informed Drazil that day that if there was anyway I can repay him and his troops to let me know. Well needless to say he has taken me up on that offer, for everytime he has called on me to help him with something I have gone. In retrospect this has been vital in my growth as a magi. I found fighting alongside the savagery of these dwarves to be invigorating. This has allowed me to grow as mentioned earlier and it has allowed me to stay safe. Ever since that day the caravan I was on got ransacked I have rarely felt the bite of a foe.

As one could imagine I get grief on this when I return to Celene. My naturally subversive nature enjoys their discomfort. I hope to one day publish my thoughts and turn the ideas of some of my fellow elves, but I find this unlikely.

I write this as we are on our way to Rittersmarche. It seems Turrosh Mak has pulled wool over the Prince and has been waging a small scale war through various minnions in the Principality. The Prince was furious because his council (in which one of the members was an agent of Turrosh) thought it necessary to send some ragtag bunch of adventurers to investigate the matter. I pray for their souls for they surely have met their demise, but I digress.

The purpose of my journal entry today was to reflect on my companions. I don't make too many entries in here, but I feel now it is necessary. I feel this mission we are embarking on will end up being of some importance, in which even Celene will feel the affects; as much as they try to ignore them.

The Elite Thunderbloods, The Thunderblood Company, The Thunderblood Three; I have heard my companions called all of these and more. I simply call them Burton, Ruggin, and Drazil.

Drazil is an interesting character. He has somewhat of a flair for a dwarf. That is not to say he is weak, on the contrary he is a fierce and rugged warrior; it is just that outside the warrior realm he speaks freely and is quite charming. This is made all the more impressive because of his gruff appearance.

His face is littered with bruises and scars but none more significant than the long ghastly one that runs across his face from one end of his forehead to the opposing end of his cheek before disappearing into his beard. His nose is just one big broken nub. It's been broken so many times that he cannot come close to remembering; he estimates in the hundreds and by looking at it I wouldn't really argue.

To watch him in battle is also amazing. He wields two swords which is somewhat rare for a dwarf, but to see him do it you would wonder why. He is poised, precise, and fast. Very fast. He insists on singing while fighting which at first I found to be a distraction but have grown to enjoy. There is a violent cadence to it that is very invigorating. My drawing of him shows him with a battle axe. He did this as a nod to his heritage, to "throw people off" he says."

He is the most proud of the gold tooth he brandishes. I find it gawdy and hideous, but when he smiles at people it seems to bring them in. I roll my eyes and argue that they are simply too flummoxed by why someone would do that to themselves than really have any interest into what he is saying. He laughs me off.

Where Drazil is a little unorthodox, Burton is not. He is all dwarf. Gruff and grim in battle and gruff and grim when not in battle. I think he was born with a military warbook and hasn't let it go since. He is honorable and loves his kin dearly. It was Burton who deferred his potion to me. He lives by a strict code which is essentially "Service and Family before Self". He has very little to no personality so when I am alone with him it bores me to tears. I could excite him if I wanted to talk about the military writing of some ancient dwarven general but that wasn't on Gandor's reading list.

Ruggin inspires me somewhat. He cannot speak due to a nasty encounter with an ogre. He had the opportunity to have it healed but he refused to. I find an odd sense of honor in that, which surprises me because normally I would think that just stubborn and idiotic. I wish he wrote because I would love to see what is going on in his mind.

In battle Ruggin is the most intimidating Thunderblood to look at. He has armor that is adorned with spikes and he wears a helmet with the same. He wields a polearm with vicious efficiency, but he is more known for his violent and chaotic charges on the enemy, where he launches himself without regard for his own safety at his foe; ripping them to shreds with his armor. It it gruesome but very effective. I find his methods irritating at times, but I can hardly argue with the results.

When I asked to draw him he agreed and surprisingly he too picked an axe. Everything these dwarves do they do together. This is no more evident when seeing them all in battle. Ruggin's chaotic attacks are offset by Drazil's grace and all brought together by Burton's poise.

I adore whenever Drazil reaches out to me. I will never admit this to him and I hope he would never find my writings, even though I doubt he'd be able to read it anyway.

I am ending this entry as I will try and get a bit of rest because I as I alluded to earlier, I believe we are stepping into something that is larger than any of us imagine.