The Cannibal Hymn
One more shuffle of the deck before the hand is delt

Flying past a remains of a recent battle a small bird twists and plunges down to the jungle floor. It quickly transforms into the shape of a female half-orc with feathers becoming various totems and talismans of wood, bone and cloth that swing around her waist as she walks the battle field. The figure surveys the ruins around and the various bodies of human, elf, dwarf and mutated lizardfolk. It pays particular attention to the maggot infested carcass of a dragon whist mumbling a few words of prayer. The Half-Orc then leaps into the air and a small bird, no bigger than a sparrow, flies with all the speed it can muster towards Ka’rhashan.

Be careful what you wish for...
Dear Nimbleweed and Ellykins,

You know what, there’s some shrewd goings on round here. We got played again down there. That Vasquez woman turned out to be that evil demon witch thing that I thought Kos had blasted to pieces weeks ago! She’d been pushing us to do something about Marc and I was all for that. I’m kind of confused now though. All I know is he’s really dead now. I know cause I killed him. What I dreamt of way back as a lad. When I thought he’d died during the war I’d not given him another thought, but it all came flooding back when he turned up down in this lizard-filled jungle. I should feel a damn sight better than I do I reckon. I mean I think I’m glad he’s gone. And it was he’s own fault and all. I mean, let me just explain what went down.

We arrived at that obelisk thing and the crew somehow tied the airship off to it and we all clambered down the rope ladders. The Lieutenant was intending to show a bit of good will and stuff by releasing the lizard prisoners that were left on the airship but they all buggered off fleeing into the jungle away from the mutated fly-lizard thing we was supposed to be being all diplomatic with. They looked less happy to see him than they had been up in the bowels of the airship. Didn’t much matter that, cause the lieutenant was piss poor at negotiating, and even worse he got Big Red over to talk with the ugly lizard thing. Well a bit of gossip is all well and good when your tidying up some merchants curly bangs, but this was pretty boring so I’d left them to it while I found me some stairs to an underground temple. Didn’t get a chance to explore cause all hell broke loose. Think Vasquez, cause we still thought that’s who she was, went and shot the lizard when more of them turned up. Me, Brok, and Red hunkered down in the temple entrance before Brok went charging off into the jungle. The lizards had a weird mutant with them that Brok recognised as an old mate, Thadas or something. He didn’t look like much of a mate no more though, so me and Red wailed on him some before I pushed the wall over on a beefy black lizard thing. Kinda got Red with one or two little pebbles too. He wasn’t all that happy about that for some reason.

Kos was busy moaning about a pet hand or something being killed. I don’t know! But there was not many of our folks left by the end so Marc led us down the dark stairs, right into an ambush by some creepy wall-hugger things that tried to grab us. I might have nudged Marc towards one of them, but what can you do? After sorting them out we get off down a long narrow corridor. Marc, in his usual arrogant way managed to goad me into going first. Although I got to say that Dragonborn training they gave me way back when came in pretty handy. I kept my eyes peeled and found a conspicuous slab on the floor. I decided to call Marc over to show him just how good I was hoping he might approve and all, but he’d really been riling me right up so I kind of snapped a little bit. I told him to give me his shield which I slammed down as hard as I could on the trap-slab. Was hoping it’d get crushed or something, but instead we each got a poisoned dart in the thigh. Well Marc took a few darts, so I called Red over to fix Marc up. Last thing I needed was him blaming me for something else that wasn’t my fault! Instead of healing Marc, Red nuts him one, think big bro made some silly quip that Red didn’t appreciate – Ha!, and then he slings me on my arse on the trap-slab! Cue more darts flying into Marc and Red. When I dragged myself up and dusted myself off the pair of ‘em started giving me an earful! I’d had my fill of that crap so I sprinted across the trap-slab as fast as I could, stamping hard on the thing. I heard more darts spiking Marc and Red behind me, hopefully that showed them. I was clear across in some crypt looking dead end, with a bunch of sarcophaguses. Marc hung back while everyone else jumped over the trap. Turns out the sneaky bastard called Mishva using his magic ring. While he was doing that we checked out the tomb room we’d found ourselves in. There was a bit of a big old mural on the far wall. It was all dragon battles and violence with a definite representation of this crown that everyone’s after. There was an actual piece of the real thing stuck in the stone crown so without thinking I snatched it out the wall before Marc came in, but he must have spotted cause he sauntered right up and threatened me to make me hand it over. Red and Brok stepped up as usual to defend me. Can always rely on them two. Brok grabbed Marc and held him steady. It all happened so quick. Before any thinking I’d slit his throat. Was then that Vas showed who she really was with a proper evil witch laugh that made me look up from Marc’s body. She was going on about us lot being all destructive and stuff. She reckoned it was amusing how easily she’d manipulated us all. She’s a bit full of herself that one. Like everything was down to her. Right up till then there was nothing I’d thought of more than paying Marc back for my miserable childhood, but now we’re all calm and back on this airship maybe a gaping throat was a bit harsh. I mean he was always Ma and Pa’s favourite, arrogant bastard couldn’t do nothing wrong. Everything he did was just a calculated insult aimed at me. It’s come right down to this and I ought to feel like I won. I just feel kinda sick though. Pretty sure that’s the pilot’s fault, he’s definitely not steering this thing as well as he done before.

Anyway, that fake-Vas demon-witch would still be bending our ears right now if Kos hadn’t cut her off mid sentence again with that wand of his. She got well pissed off at not seeing that coming again before she up and vanished. Brok suggested stuffing Marc in one of the Sarcophagi when a thick stream of flies blasted out of the hole that crown piece was in. Brok did say there was something up with the wall moving before. We just had to leg it! We left Marc’s body lying there swarming with flies. We all were. I’m still covered in painful bites. When we got back out into the light there was a right old battle going down between the huge fly swarm and the dragonfolk that must have turned up after Marc called them. We all dashed past, chasing the dangling rope ladder of the airship as it drifted away. We all made it back aboard somehow, and now the pilot is taking us back to Ghostwater, away from this mess. He seems to know the way, actually he seems a whole lot more accommodating now. Like a different person. He even has a right old smile on his face. Well, it’s more of a strange grin really, but he can grin all he likes the lucky sod, he was the only living survivor on the airship when we got back on it. Wonder how he managed that.

Now Brok just came and interrupted me demanding one of the crown pieces. He says it’s safer if they’re separate. I started to argue with him but thought better of it. I trust the half-orc’s judgement I guess, and there aint no way I could stop him taking it if he wanted it anyhow.

Don’t know how long till we get to Ghostwater. Thought I’d have a nap, but I keep getting this image of Marc’s body swarming with all them flies. What’s up with that!? This aint the way I dreamt it’d be as a kid.



Damnit, that Demon bitch did it again. She manoeuvers us into a position, gets Kalle to kill his brother only to reveal herself as the puppetmaster pulling our strings. Can we not escape this madness?

If it’s not fighting lizardfolks who want to turn us into ugly mutants, it’s stupid breather humans asking me to “negotiate” for them. Or dropping walls on me, for that matter. Still, I showed Kalle the error of his ways – next time he might be a bit more careful, lest I throw him onto another trap.

To cap it all, the abomination half-orc actually thanked me for rescuing his ass – wonders will never cease. It was a good thing we did too; without his spear and his hammer it’d be just me having to battle everything. As much as he annoys me, the half-orc has a point – Mishva is a bitch, the silver flame are idiots and we’re stuck in the middle. However, the tide has now turned – we’re the ones in possession of two bits of that cursed crown – surely we can use this to our advantage?

Fuck it all. All I want to do is to get back to my chapel at Ghostwater, give a few blessings and forget all about dragons, dragonborn and crowns.

Chaos Released
Recent events in Q'barra

A Swarm Devil… released within an area thought to be between Whitecliff, Newthrone and the Hall of a Thousand Mirrors

A swarm devil forms when an angel is ordered to be torn asunder. The angel’s soul coalesces in the Nine Hells deep within the Khyber and becomes trapped in a mass of flies that buzz around the form of one of The Overlords. From there, a swarm devil moves to the stagnant pools that near connections from the Khyber to the Xoriat, where it begins to starve however it can never die. Over time, each swarm devil grows desperate and voracious as it awaits its Overlord master’s orders. When it is sent on an errand of death, a swarm devil is a zealous agent of the Overlords will, because the mission offers the creature a rare opportunity to fly free and feed.

The sky of Eberron is full of wonders. The Ring of Siberys stretches over the equator, its glittering stones standing out even in the light of day. Sages trace images of celestial dragon patterns of the stars. And twelve moons circle the planet, filling the night sky with color and light.

Mishva Stormborn cast a gaze to the night sky above Castle Garody and through he haze of a thousand camp fires below she noted Zarantyr, the storm moon, would soon be full. The troops, she noted, must start their march tomorrow and commence the assault of Whitecliff, with or without the crown.

You will have the crown, I believe your ‘heroes’ approach the birthing pool as we… Uuurge! Huh.. ah!!!

RAAAARRRRG! Within the blink of an eye Mishva had crossed the rom to the doorway opposite and had Delphi’s neck in her grasp suspended two feet above it’s normal position… never enter my thoughts without my permission again witch! she shouted. And then .. time froze… but just for Mishva

The room began to fill with pale white ragged scarecrows, forming solid shapes from thin wisps of smoke drifting into the window. The straw men… of various sizes… all happily danced about, pogo style, on their single sticks for a moment. And the they then began to lay their hands and heads or whatever else they could on Mishvas heavily muscled and armoured forearm.

Within the opening of the same eye Mishvas’ shaking arm still had a grip around Delphi’s neck but it was no longer firm nor was the neck above it’s normal position.

Tsaritsa…., please. Delphi croaked. You must know beyond any doubt I intend you no harm. My habits die hard. You have my apologies honoured Tsaritsa… it shall not happen again.

Arg.. far.. Mishva withdrew her hand, her arm was shaking for some reason. She returned to stare out at the sparkling sky.

Tacith has taken her leave Tsaritsa? Delphi enquired.

She has returned to Argonnesse and may be raising more forces for the coming battle. We will not fail Delphi. You understand, we cannot fail! Mishav’s eyes glazed over with brief images of the coming victory as she massaged her arm just for a moment. She then crossed the floor of the room to pour tea from a freshly delivered pot. So you are sure the circus will succeed in their mission? And what of the final piece of the crown?

I have no reason to doubt the success of our heroes in their mission. The mercenaries you sent with them in addition to the forces of Whitecliff should be able to resolve and problems that may be found in the area. Tell me , why this name… Temple of the.. ah.. ‘one eye’ ?

AH, yes, I made it up… Mishva replied. It was one of the stories of my childhood. A place that existed somewhere within the jungle. Your instructions were not very clear on why they were to go to that place. And they needed something

As yes, Delphi responded. Indeed our heroes have a certain defiance about them, they refuse to truckle and distrust any authority. I do not blame them considering their contact with authority and the effects of the Mournland on them. Delphi pause to sip tea. The mercenaries you sent with them… did you trust them?

Of course not, they are mercenaries, mostly from lands far from here. They each have their own agenda… but they will be loyal for as long as it takes. Marc will let us know when to fly.

Of course he will, of course. Delphi joined Mishva at the windows peering out the admire theRing of Siberys and the many dragon shapes that formed within. One mind among them disturbs me though. And the final piece.. yes I must mediate on that………

I Believe I Can Fly
Fever Dream

Oooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhh Shhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiitttttttttt! Hell’s Teeth this is going to hurt… Yvenne

Dragons… dragons dancing through the sky with tiny riders on their backs… airships and elementals, chained down by the noble houses, yearning to be free… and flies, thousands of flies with tiny kobold faces… swirling around like flocks of swallows over the rice fields back home, devouring the grain, devouring everything… The Devourer, the Stormlord, bringer of floods, why is he here… destruction, destruction and war… the first to arrive, no doubt The Fury and The Keeper will follow in his wake.

Water, water and mud, am I back home again… I can’t see the village… no can’t be back home, too many trees… maybe the northern hills and the Blackear Tribe… no… there’s the village over there… and there’s Murgash and his daughter… Hell’s Teeth I thought I’d got away from this… why’s he turning away… doesn’t he see me? Am I dead? No… no come back…

Argh… fire, my chest is on fire… no, no flames in this jungle… just pain… I’m sure that branch shouldn’t be sticking out between my ribs like that…

Where am I… where is Red… and Kalle… miserable bastards have finally shown their true colours and left me to die here, alone… alone… Yvenne… Yvenne, I’m so tired of it all… so tired… and so cold… Yvenne…

The Kobolds are dancing again, but no kobold can move like that… a swarm of flies dancing like a kobold… and a dragon wearing a crown… an army of flies pouring across the land, devouring everything, devouring the flying snake of burning silver, no one to stand in its way… or a Silver Flame, burning the forests, lizardfolk screaming in the flames, Ghostwater devoured in the flames of self righteousness… do I have to choose? Are these my only options?

Tiger… no, Tiger cub… too small… no doubt come to pick the flesh from my bones… at least the pain will stop… I’m coming Yvenne, soon we shall run free in the Great Hunting Grounds, and eat fresh meat, and drink pure clean water… come on then, finish it you damned beast…

Brelander… warforged Brelander taking me back… back to that hellish army… I won’t fight for your cause again… this time you’ll have to kill me… the rewards of death, the hunting grounds, those are better than serving your kind again… damned Breland slavers… Brelan… Red? Red… and Kalle… and the halfling gatekeeper… what’s going on… no… no leave me here to die… I don’t want to have to choose… let me go to join Yvenne, damn you Red… damn you all.

If it’s not Brok, don’t fix it
Dear Gulnackles

Well that’s a strange thing right there. We’ve been attacked by more fly-crossed-lizard things, traipsed round the jungle again, and I’m completely worn out, but I don’t feel drained. There’s kind of a warm glow. Feels kind of nice…

Anyway, them Dragonborn gave us our actual mission now – infiltrate Whitecliff, pose as new recruits, and find the ‘Cave of the One Eye’ inside the territory Whitecliff controls, and bring back the crown piece. Simple, huh? The Dragons dropped us off a few miles from Whitecliff, and we had to walk the rest of the way. Don’t see why they couldn’t just drop us off at the gate. We had to camp for the night before we got there. There was a bunch of others sent with our lot too. Them lizards seem to have put some planning into this at least. We had a bit of a joke and a chat to pass the night, although I remember a couple that weren’t joining in the fun. That tall blonde elf lass, Vasquez seemed to keep to herself, although Kos was chatting to her at one point. And a dwarf called Frost, pretty good name for the frosty little bugger, and of course Marc. Don’t think he knows how to have fun if it’s not in some way directly torturing me!

Got to say Whitecliff is a pretty impressive place, not just cause there’s no arrogant Dragonborn. Looks like an actual, honest piece of civilisation. Course we got to stay there no more than a day. They accepted our papers, inducted us, we got some snazzy looking uniforms, well Red got a paint job, and we even got a bit of a security briefing too, although that fella was a bit melodramatic. Don’t think he’s a big lizard fan. Most of the people round Whitecliff seemed pretty zealous folk though, we have to randomly say “Praise the flame,” or some such every so often just to prove we’re not ‘none-believers’. Well the very next morning when the sun was barely up, they loaded all us new ‘recruits’ and plenty of, I guess, real recruits onto a big old flying ship, and apparently we’re flying off to have it out with some lizard tribe. I’m sure the idea is to be all diplomatic about it too.

That’s when our airship went and got attacked by a bunch of fly-mutated lizard buggers. They blew a great big hole in the side of the ship. Apparently there were a bunch of slaves or something down below. Some of them died a bit, cause of the hole. Oh, and another of them weird fly-swarm lizard-mess-things turned up too. Useless pilot had trouble steering with being attacked and all. He had the ship tipping all over the place! Me and Kos tried to shoot the ugly bastards out of the sky, while Brok and some bloke from Whitecliff jumped on the big old ballistic crossbow thing at the front of the ship. That’s the bow right?

Red and Tulip and Thorgrim dealt with some more lizardy beasts below decks. Apparently Marc was down there too, but I doubt he did anything half helpful. That Vasquez woman was doing a good job defending the pilot though, so he wasn’t flying like he was drunk all the battle. When Red and the others came up top, Tulip did her whole ‘I’m a big vicious pussy cat, look at my claws’ trick and pounced up to help defend the pilot too. Think Brok was being turned into a pincushion with all the blow darts flying his way so Big Red took his place on the huge crossbow. Don’t know where the other guy went. Most of us started swatting at the Fly-swarm disgusting-lizard thing, while Red manned the crossbow, although Marc crept up there with him for some reason. Looked like they were getting all pally too. Damn well hope not, just like that bastard, always taking everything that’s mine. Not that Red is mine of course, but you know what I mean!

We splatted plenty of flies but them that were left scattered, and it took me a moment to realise that old Brok had been tipped overboard! There’s always choices, no matter what’s going on, there’s always choices, you just got to know the best one for yourself, but I tell you, right then. I didn’t see not any choice. I was up in that pilots face screaming ‘man overboard’, telling him he had to land this thing. The heartless bastard wasn’t going to stop! Of course that was before Red stepped up to ‘ask’. The pilot saw sense and agreed to drop low enough for us to climb down a rope to the jungle floor. Well I was straight down there, glad to have Red with me, but it wasn’t till we were wading through the thick undergrowth calling out for Brok that it hit me just what had happened, what I’d done. Can’t say I full understand it, but I tell you what – never felt so relieved when we found Brok alive. Thanks to Tulip that was. She’s a natural out there in the wilds, me and Red’d never have found him if she hadn’t come with us, I guess she knew that.

He’s in a right bad way at the moment though. Broken bones and unconscious they reckon. We carried him back and hoisted him up the rope on a make-shift stretcher. Red did his best for him, but the medics aboard the ship are looking after him now. Sure he’ll be back on his feet soon enough. I’ll feel even better when he is.

Nearly at our destination too. About ten minutes off. There’s a huge obelisk tower thing looming up out the treetops ahead, guess that’s where we’re headed…



As I try to make sense of the events of today, I find that it is indeeed very difficult, and once again I wonder what the hell have I done to deserve ending up here.

The last two weeks weren’t easy, but a Warforged is a machine of war; we may have been trained by Stormborn officers but even their skill and might is no match for one as I. Still, I learnt a new skill to channel the divine power which flows through me to bring more damage to my enemies.

What struck me was that the lizardfolk I trained with talked about how the humans were encroaching into their territory; about how they had lost family members and friends and this was why they were fighting; yet when I “enlisted” with the zealots in Whitecliff the humans there were saying the same about the Lizardfolk. To me it seems that the people fighting are no more than pawns in a game being played by the powerful background figures; warlords and such with kingly or even imperial ideas. This is why I left the army; I’m not a weapon to be wielded by some highborn who wants to claim a land for his own; I’m a sentient being who is the pawn of a higher power – a God – and I’m here to do it’s work. Whilst I figure out what that is I can only do what feels right.

And, by the Gods, if I was to fly I would have been given wings. These airships are even more unnatural than the damned dragons.

I wasn’t all that surprised we were attacked in the air; more fly/kobold aberrations. Apparently we’d been pardoned by the Kobold King himself for the last time we handled this problem; he can shove his royal pardon into his excretal attachment tube for all I care. Once more, it was left to I to dispatch many of the creatures – even the whiny human’s bigger brother was left impressed by just how well I could take out the flying abominations. Talking of flying abominations, Brok was thrown out of the airship by the fly/lizard/shaman thing. I’m no fan of the half-orc but like I stepped into the fight with the human last week; these people have fought along side me bravely and don’t deserve to die on the whim of some zealots. And without the half-orc, who would be left to do the bulk of the fighting – that’s right, me.

I had to threaten the pilot (who had taken command) to turn back and allow us to search for Brok; I’d have killed him there and then even if it meant the airship going down. After all, how hard are these elementals to control? That jade statue Kalle has seemed to react well to the water elemental at Ghostlake, maybe we could have used that to steer the airship? The Halfling proved to be some use as we found Brok – albeit a bit smashed up – but I did my best to heal his wounds when he reboarded the airship. If we’re to fight again on landing, we’ll need him and his spears.

I’m now sat here on this cursed airship, waiting to land; and waiting to fight again. I’ve thought long and hard about this, but Brok is right – we cannot allow Mishva his imperial ideals. I’m not so sure that the humans are right in killing the lizards either.

Eye of the Storm

Guard Captain Garrat addresses a bunch of new Whitecliff recruits.

Ladies and Gentleman, PAY ATTENTION!

You are not in Sharn anymore … you are in New Hope.

You WILL respect that fact every second of every day of your tour in this god forsaken dung hole.

If you were in the Last War you might start to wish you were back there for some R & R.

He raises his hand and points out the window, toward a dark treeline.
Out beyond that wall every living thing that crawls, flies or squats in the mud wants to kill you and eat your eyes for afters.

We have an indigenous population of Lizardfolk, Dragonborn and Kobolds.

None of them want us here.

We operate and live under constant threat.

The Lizardfolk are fond of arrows dipped in a poison which can stop your heart in minutes. They also come in various sizes. The Black ones can be up to three meters high and swing clubs about the size… OF YOU! He points to one of the recruits … They are very hard to kill.

Together with the Dragonborn and Kobolds they control almost all of Q’Barra, and they will not relinquish that control to allow for peaceful settlements to be built. New Hope is the only thing that stands between them and the complete destruction of Newthrone and EVERYTHING that your mothers and fathers have built.

We have tried to come to some an agreement….. but they refuse to play nice. They control vast amounts of land that contain of precious metals and dragonshards… and they trade with whoever they can to build forces that are launched at us.

Within hills on which this city is built are tunnels they were once riddled with vile Kobolds.

They no longer exist.

And just as we have defeated those savages so we force others to play by our rules. That is our job here. We will make these natives either play by our rules or – we – will – destroy them. The burning white light of the Silver Flame will be their only memory as we send them on to their rightful place in the pits what they might call hell.

As head of security, it’s my job to keep you alive while we are out… THERE….

I will not succeed, Not with all of you.

If you wish to survive, you need a strong mental attitude, and you need to follow procedure.

You will memorise the following procedures… I will one say them only once…

Many men have been capable of doing a wise thing, more a cunning thing, but very few a generous thing.
Dear Nimbleweed and Ellykins Gulnackle,

Another letter to pass the time, and sort my head out. Plenty’s been going on, but right now we’ve all been hanging around my bro’s castle, I don’t think it’s really his, but he swans around like he owns the place. I’d like to say honoured guests, but we been damn well roped into an army over here! I ran away from home to avoid this sort of crap! Oh well, it seems a little safer here at least than back in Ghostwater at the moment. Last time we were there, there was plenty of folk milling about, they’d all got their hands on a bunch of dragonshards, obviously the miners had hit a payload. Place was far too crowded with all the trading going on.

Old Brok landed himself a short lived position as Tavya’s doorman. Tavya paid me a shiny penny to smarten him up too. Gave him a good old shave, and shaped that oddly dwarven beard of his. He looked pretty dapper I thought, even without the pretty bows. Even tracked down a snazzy suit for the big brute from Mr. Neegla, on Tavya’s expense of course. It didn’t survive very long, cause I think that’s kind of the reason I’m writing, not the nice suit, but how it got broken in.

Was kind of a bit of a surprise, them coming all this way, but bloody Orien caught up with me out here in the back of beyond! Didn’t know where else to go so I kind of dropped old Brok right in the middle of my mess and the big bugger came up trumps, sorting them bounty hunters out for me. I ran off and hid while Brok had to deal with the big guy with the axe. Every instinct in me was telling me to run, but I didn’t, and I’ll be damned if I know why! Brok can handle himself, and hell, even Big Red waded in! Bet the pair of them didn’t even break a sweat. Do Warforged sweat? Anyway, instead of doing the sensible thing and legging it, I snuck into the crowd that had gathered to watch the show. Figured I’d stir up some trouble for these mercs, get their attention off Brok, so I told everyone who’d listen that they were after Ghostwater’s hard earned Dragonshards, that they’d come with huge taxes and they’d take what they want by force. I just start getting them riled up for a riot when one of the bounty hunters gets her magic hat on and starts blasting the crap out of the crowd. Well all hell breaks loose then cause the crowd scatters in a blind panic and a big ugly bruiser body tackles me onto my arse. When the world stopped spinning I legged it across the street past Red, he must have started wailing on them bastards when they turned on the crowd. Think I even spotted that Thor and little Tulip beating on someone too, probably for the same reason. All them distractions should have been great for me making a clean escape, but I can’t help thinking now, that there was more than a few dead folk, that ought to be a lot less crispy if not for me…

I don’t remember too much else from that fight. Plenty of pain, more than enough blood, and a mouth full of dirt. And Red and Thor shaking me awake and yelling at me when waking up seemed like the worst idea. I had to spill everything for them too of course, about Orien, the shop, not Fran though. No point in that. I’ll not forget that whole thing in Ghostwater was down to me, heck I’ve got a permanent reminder right here, I don’t care how much that Thorgrim thinks it suits me this scar is vicious sore and my head’s not stopped throbbing for days, don’t think it ever will. God damn, it look at me feeling sorry for myself, nothing changes! Sat down to write you to tell you how I’m finally taking some responsibility. I even recognised that I’d let these guys down. How’s that for ‘emotional maturity’! Fran can eat her snide remarks now if I she wasn’t, well. Anyway, Point is I know I owe Brok and Red my life many times over, and I ain’t got a clue what to do about it. You know me, I’ve not exactly been good at looking out for others.

Well I got plenty of time to figure out how I’m supposed to pay them back, cause after we was all arrested for ‘disturbing the peace’ we’ve been hauled up in Marc’s castle until they send us off on some suicide mission to track down more of these useless crown pieces. Told you I already gave Marc one, I got another one right here, but he ain’t getting it. He’s put on a few pounds of nasty bastard too since I remember him, still talks down to me like something he trod in. That Mishva, she’s like Marc’s dragonborn chick or something, she’s more hardnosed than my brother, and you know, not cause of the scales. She’s the one been shouting the odds. I mostly been keeping me head down though, but Brok and Red both reckon these dragonborn guys are organising like an army ready for war. We didn’t exactly have much choice so we agreed to go on their wild crown hunt. They reckon we’re in for some training first then they’ll send us off. Don’t know why they don’t think we’ll just do a bunk as soon as they let us out, but right now I’d follow Brok just about anywhere…



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