| Filthy Foul Necromancers And Other Things That Go Bump In The Night |
| journal 2 |
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Upon Reaching the foul isle of the undead I knew it was all over. We were marooned on a deserted wasteland of Evil and Torement. The home of leigons of undead. Although I couldn't put my finger on I was sure that all these abominations couldn't control themselves now could they. And then it was explained to me by a vary quick footed Aringil. The rock spire that rises in the center is the home of a litch so powerful he is the king of the undead. Upon this information I quickly doubled my pace as we ran southward, I think. Damn directions never did me mutch good any how! We managed to almost get killed three times in our travels. If the turning of our faithful cleric had failed her we surely would have been devoured by the tree spirits. Well, some of us anyway. After that encounter we traveled around the feilds of the dead for what seemed like an eternity. I guess swift travel and horrid things are not needed or cared about by eternal undead beings. We finally came upon a harbor town on the umm.. south side of the Isle. Upon closer investigation Jacques discovered a ship being stocked by scads of Zombies and Skellatons and of course our fearless monk of rightiousness and goodness happened to be they're idea of lunch. Once again endangering all our lives in order to help keep us safe. Bloody ipetious monk and his stupid need to obtaine power through being overly good all the time. Well any way we got into another battle and I did the thing with the fire that goes boom. And then we ran for the ship. Squished it's crew like tasty fey grapes and set sail for the human lands. Oh boy!!!! |
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| Associated Regions: Sellador |
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| From the journal of Dolartu Magmar |
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Contributor: Evan Menz |
