Blades at Dawn

The Journey Back

Nethri's Journal

An angel met us in that place. Cold and wicked it was, devoid of warmth or emotion. I had always imagined them being more, well, inviting. Not he, nor was his master’s keep. As we scurried through the hallways, lost and guided only by the lack of options, we were able to acquire some gear from the barracks. Low in quality, but better than flesh, so I ought not complain. Nightchill, the goddess troubling Lencia (possibly the world), seemed to be raising an army, or at least maintaining one, which only spells more doom for the mortal races.

We also traveled upon some servant’s quarters, though child-esque in appearance it was. Spotless, immaculate, and lacking passion. The room was a sterile nightmare.

After that boorish room we happened upon five Elven servants who accompany us to a room full of portals. We rush through the blasted contraptions as a patrol passes by, narrowly missing discovery, which would have likely been the most pleasant of what would have happened.

Stepping through the portal, we are instantly taken to a valley between mountains and I feel the strength of Dumathoin wash over me. Sensing my god with my, I quickly disrobe out of the armors laced with Nightchill’s insignia, though Luc insists on keeping his on. Besides a few looks from folk, my conscience was clear; I cannot say the same for D’Urban.

We travel toward the mountains and I regale in the glory of the natural world. Never have I felt so alive! Eventually we came to a road, which led us to an Eladrin city, where Luc trouncing about in the goddess’s armor caused us to land in a jail cell. That boy just does not learn!

Being interrogated and questioned does not a happy Dwarf make, but Luc was all-together rude! He started picking fights and looking for way to piss off the guards, which, in hindsight, was fine, since we’re alive now and the guards aren’t. I won’t ever understand that boy though, as he wanted to keep the damned guard alive for questioning or some such. Dwarven laws prohibit such folly. If the beast is going to speak, it can do so with an axe through the gut.

But we’re in Lencia now, the young D’Urban enjoying Dame Syral’s company and me with a candle and this book I acquired from the servant’s quarters. Quite interesting history within this book…



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