Superion Journal Entry 2

From the Exile Journals of Lord Prince Superion IV

Entry 16 - Towering Might

Civilization! To build something that lasts, that protects, that will hold and stand the test of time. What else does man desire?

Once having secured the derelict watchtower from zombiedemonwhatthefuck creatures, I and my merry band began the rebuilding of the tower immediately. Several satisfying weeks of building with our hands, hunting and enjoying a break from destruction and partaking in construction has been good for our ragged band. Once Drysdale recieved our message of all clear, he dispatched a good garrison of troops, laborors and servants to the tower, which we are more or less making our new home base in the scar. The cook can do some amazing things with dried herbs and fresh game. Erathis be praised, I do believe there is some hope for this wretched land yet!

In addtion, Drysdale rewarded our service with a mount for each of us. 4 horses and 2 ponies to be precise. The short one who calls himself "Low Rent" was prancing and capering like a child at the summer fair! I do believe I have never seen him happier. Alastair seemed strangely dissapointed, though that is his general disposition. They are all fine mounts and were all given appropriate names in short order. When the bards sing of our adventures, they shall recall that we rode the following into battle:

The mighty steeds:

Princess of Power

Not a Mammoth

Like a Hoss

Guierlmo (ma?)

Secretary

Bacon

Their names and deeds will be the delight of children's story books for years to come, I am quite certain.

While awaiting further orders from Restwell, several of the company headed to the Crossroads to attempt to sell some of the strange "chaos crystals" we recently aquired. From what they told me upon their return, they were successful in selling the foul otherworldly things to the Sehrune Guild mages. (I believe they would buy a bag of dung if you told them it was magical). Unfortunately, the group was accosted by what must have been a Mindflayer trying to buy something it called the "Shard Father". The experience of having one's mind flayed sounded most unpleasant, and I believe if we ever encounter one again, I believe there is a special place on my necklace of valor for a few shriveled tentacles.

A few days after their return, the steward came to notify us that we had petitioners ourside the fort. Uneager to risk any funny business to our work still under construciton, we met them on the grounds.

The first to introduce himself was a surley dwarven "adventurer" who had come to complain about the safety of the road, as he had been set upon by bandits repeatedly. Strangely, the bandits only took his magical items he had aquired adventuring in the scar. Even stranger, the fool had continued to take the same path near the local landmark the "pillar of eyes", after being robbed there no less than three times! After upbraiding him for his foolishness, I struck a deal whereupon we would try to deal with the bandits in exchange for maps of the ruins where he had been propecting for magical items. Such things would be better served in the hands of the agents of civilization, and not incompetent scavengers or bandits.

The second petitioner was a fair haired maiden who named herself "Willow" heralding from one of the villages near the tower. She said there had recently been earthquakes, and afterwards, there had been several portals to the feywilde open up near their village. And, if that weren't bad enough in it's own right, hobgoblin raiders on spider back had been routinely sacking the village and carrying off villagers back to the feywilde. Such audacity! Once my rage subsided, I told the fair damsel that her cry for help had not fallen on deaf ears, and justice would be served against this filth as soon as we were able. "Believe me" I said holding forward a large half rotten hobgloblin tooth from my neckpiece, "We know what to do with hobgoblins!"

The third petitioner was a strange man in full armor who announced himself as "Ser Arryn", herald of "The Duke" of the Crossroads. He came with what seemed to me a strangely pre-emptive request between us and the regime that runs the Crossroads. Even stranger Low Rent with his curiously good memory for historical trivia, said that ser arryns standard matched that of the "Knights of the Seasons"; an order of knights that hunted undead, but hadn't been heard from in decades, perhaps even centuries. After conferring, our party communicates that we had no known disagreements with The Duke, but did ask for any information on the sister of Emer Swift as a token of good faith. Ser Arryn did not have any ready info, but said he would pass word to his leige. Almost as a parting afterthough, as he was turning to go in haste, he informed us that nearby to the tower there were some ruins of a Temple Dedicated to Orcus, god of the undead.

So much glorious adventure, so little time! We decided after brief conference that our priority had to be to help the villagers in their plight with the fey raids, though I know Charna was somewhat torn due to the presense of an undead temple nearby. No matter I say. All these foes of civilization will feel the steel of my hammer. Our deeds will be legend! Like Low Rent on his pony I could barely contain my excitement and battle lust. Sleep would come difficult this night. My dreams were filled with blood and righteous slaughter.