Third day on the Coast Way to Beregost, our caravan stumbled into an ambush. Arrows assailed us from the woods ahead, grazing Gunx and myself. Jorad and Tegan spotted a pair of orcish archers, and quickly slew the two with spellcraft. Ogres brandishing clubs joined the fray, and more orcs, but together our fellowship defeated these foolhardy foes.
Everyone in the caravan now hails us as heroes, save the cultist crew, whose every look upon us seethes with bitterness and frustration. The praise I can do without, but the cultists’ ire, I savour like sweet Tantran tea. Blessed Beshaba, thank you for choosing me as the instrument of your merciless power, klaatu barada nikto amen.
Upon the third day of our journey fair,
To Beregost on the Coast Way we wend,
Our caravan ambushed by foemen rare,
Whose arrows rained, and did our skin offend.
But in our midst were mages full of might,
Jorad and Tegan, with spellcraft in hand,
So swiftly slew the orcish archers’ blight,
And felled them where they stood upon the land.
Ogres and orcs, with clubs and swords in tow,
Did then assail us with a fearsome cry,
But through our fellowship and valiant blow,
We did vanquish them, and make them all die.
Now hailed as heroes, save the cultist crew,
Who seethe with ire, and scorn our victory true.
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