Into the Wilderlands

Session L as recounted by Quentenius Weatherby III

18th Day of Firebloom

We thought we had found refuge in a Druidic enclave known as Darnegal, but all we found was a community founded on cruelty, selfishness, and denial. I feel somewhat uneasy even calling this place a community because I have not seen any person show concern for anyone other than themselves.

The druids either do not see the moral decay that has permeated every soul within this wretched land or the corruption runs so deep that even they must tread with caution. I pray that it is the latter.

The wealthy merchant families squabble amongst themselves and see each family and person as obstacles or tools for their amusement and prosperity. This place is so fragmented by constant subterfuge, theft, murder, and crime, that I almost feel that an organized thieves’ guild would be preferable to this land of eternal chaos. But I must not give up hope yet. Perhaps we can tip the balance and help the druids make this place hospitable once again. If we fail, I do not know what good will ever befall these people…

Dorrestral, the man we once rescued from gnolls, still remains imprisoned for allegedly murdering his close friend Surovoy . While the druids claim that there is insurmountable evidence of his guilt, I do not see how anyone could believe that a man so brimming with life and laughter could be the miscreant they claim he is. Though we are beginning to discover what truly transpired, we find ourselves more and more at the mercy of scoundrels of all kind and their ilk. Finding Ogre Magi hairs and ichor at the crime scene and after accidentally telling a man named Karn that we thought he was guilty of deceit, destruction, and spreading the plague, we raced to the inn so that we would not be helpless prey in a town that swarms with thieves in the night.

We were not fast enough.

Though we were able to reunite with friends and find new allies, we were ambushed and Oisin nearly killed! Worst yet, Spark, our beloved gnome with the heart of a giant, had not been seen since he took to the streets, searching for his stolen holy symbol and demanding justice and equity in a land that knows neither

We survived though, which is all that one can hope for when everything and everyone is bent on stealing rather than giving and ignoring evil instead of confronting it. That night we interrogated our assailants, but only gathered that Karn could be found at “The Flop”. As Oisin, Farekith, and I prepared to talk to the only eye witness to the crime, we received a package that contained Spark’s bright red mustache and a letter telling us to “stay put”. It seems that someone wished to trade Spark for the ruffian that we interrogated.

But as my companions refuse to let evil have the initiative, we left the inn and spoke to the only one who could clear the name of the falsely accused. Blood was spilled, but as bloodshed should never be glorified, I will only say that the fair lady who found herself in a desperate time and place finally revealed a host of names that implicate Karn and his thugs in the murder of Dorrestral. I would write more, but our recent actions have made us enemies of both the city guards and the criminals they knowingly or unknowingly protect. We must act quickly and decisively to save our friend, the falsely accused, and the city from chaos, suffering, and death. I hope fate has not yet given up on us.

From the journal of Quentenius Weatherby III

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