So journal, where was I?
Oh, that’s right, Varnhold, or what’s left of it. I mean the buildings are still here, the monsters have stuck around, but the people are gone, just disappeared. Where did they go? Well, best case scenario they were spirited off by a malevolent force to a legendary city of the dead. Yeah, that’s right journal, that’s the best case. Worst case? Well, I still haven’t really wrapped my head around that, but apparently it’s got something to do with the fabric of reality unraveling to allow an ancient evil to resume a reign of terror over the moral world. That would probably be worse, right?
Things are weird here…like a slimy kind of unsettling weird. When we got to Varnhold there were a detachment of blue-skinned Spriggans squatting in the deserted city. They attacked us and then we ran ‘em off, but not without taking a beating. We were very close to needing extra slots in Tusknedale’s crypt, if you take my meaning. If not for a streak of killer luck, I would have likely been one of them.
So searching the village didn’t give us many clues. We found out that the townsfolk were not playing nice with the local centaur tribes in way of centaur hides hung up to tan, and read that a few of them might have been onto the whole reality-undoing-evility that we’ve stumbled on. We also came across a couple strange monsters lurking with the blue guys, including a bizarre lobster man who really wanted to hug. That hug hurt quite a bit.
The weirdest part were the birds (I mean, the weirdest part not counting the Spriggan that had been frozen in time and then had his skull caved in). When we arrived there were a huge flock of ravens in Varnhold, just hanging out, as if waiting for someone. Lani tried to assure me that they could have been in Varnhold just for the rotting meat, but that was before we discovered one among them that was clearly a wizard’s familiar. We couldn’t take the risk that it wasn’t up to no good, so Daargan and I put it down. Now all we’ve got to do is find its master.
There’s also the matter of the centaurs. We found a very nice magical bow among the Spriggans’ loot, and after careful consideration we determined that it had to be a legendary weapon of the Nomen people called Skybolt. Being the brave and noble adventurers we are, we resolved to return the bow to its rightful owners. Now the centaurs aren’t known for being particularly fond of strangers, humans, or men. I am certainly all of those things. Fortunately, we had Gideon on our side. I’d say that he had them eating out of his hand, but I’d be afraid that it might be interpreted as some kind of racist slight against horse people.
So where to now? Home? No…unfortunately not as long as the Varnians are still missing. We’ve sorta agreed that they need found, even if they’re dead by now. We’ve sent back to Ursundova to get Ulgar to send a few soldiers to occupy Varnhold’s fort while we go looking for the missing. Ulgar should be here by the time we get back to town. From there we’ll head south, first to the Spriggans’ lair, and then on to the City of the Dead (if we can find it, and if it even exists).
Sorry Nina, looks like it’s going to be a little bit before I can take you out again. Take care of yourself until I get back.