Nelathrell's Journal My patience with this tomb grows ever thinner! The trip started well enough with the surprise appearance of famed (old) musician Ryck Ashtley who happened to be in the area. His “music” has even reached my homeland, with an area of the forest said to play his song(s?) on an infinite loop that droves those who hear it “rolling” into insanity (although it is the feywild, so that’s not too unusual). In addition, the expected team were gathered. Vilkya has been present every time I’ve travelled out there and while I’d like to say that her aim has improved, I wouldn’t want to start this entry with a lie. I have a vague recollection of magnificent scones produced by the cheery Bellas but alas, I fear I may have underestimated his “experimental” culinary tendencies. The hyperactive Isaa seemed much the same as previous journeys although it does appear he has swallowed a dictionary this time around (it must be true that halflings will eat anything!). Jereboam has returned from Korthos as a true hero with impressive (if slightly briny smelling) armour and a mighty sword. The haughty Thrella graces us with her presence again, although I must say that I find her much more agreeable this time. She at least seems to understand the pain and inevitability of life. I don’t know if it was the smell of Jereboam ’s new armour, or the thoughts of seafood dinners, but Bellas seemed to struggle with his bearings. Between the two of them, we didn’t head south past the farm as usual and instead veered a little off course until we eventually set up camp near the Grung village. I pointed out we should be able to head more or less due East tomorrow but I wish I could say that was the worst of our woes. Midway through the night, I awoke to the sound of a giant bird crashing to the ground just outside my tent. As I poked my head out, I saw a scaleshrike swooping low to attack and despite flinging ice at it, I felt its beak sink into my shoulder. I cursed at the beasts but my attention was soon drawn towards a gain creature charging out of the swamp. It flung itself at Thrella as the brave drow seemed to almost relish the idea of single combat with the thing. Seeing that she had that situation under control, I stepped through the fey and to safety alongside Ryck Ashtley . Or so I thought… as Vilkya got her eye in slaying one of the scaleshrikes and pincushioning the giant, the thunderous claps of a bell tolled as Bellas brought his magic to bear, Isaa bounced and weaved around the tent hitting at the birds with sling bullets and punches, Jereboam awoke from his lumber and roared into the fray with his mighty sword glinting in the firelight, and Ryck Ashtley took cover in his tent, I noticed the giant (or maybe I should say troll?) regenerate it’s wounds and grin at Thrella . Remembering my last encounter with trolls, I shouted a warning that acid seemed to stop them healing but no sooner had the words left my lips, I felt claws raking my side and my body froze up. I watched in horror as a scaleshrike ripped off my hand! I don’t remember much from that point. I do remember dousing the troll in acid finally so it couldn’t get back up and that drinking some of it’s blood helped me recover somewhat… although even when I smeared troll blood onto my stump and the hand, it still didn’t seem to want to heal… The following day we arose and set off early. I confess I may have been somewhat distracted by the fact that I LOST MY FUCKING HAND (which might explain why this entry is barely legible) but we seem to have gotten lost again and ended up at the tomb with the sacrifice area! Cursing the delay, we travelled North again and camped for the night. I may have been a little out of sorts as I tried to hammer in my tent pegs with ONLY ONE FUCKING HAND but I was still shocked to hear Bellas ponder whether it might be an idea to eat my hand… stomping off to bed, I was unable to sleep as Vilkya , Bellas , and Ryck Ashtley were talking loudly about the humour to be found in my state! Giving them all a glare when I took over on watch, I managed to persuade Vilkya to make sure nobody ate my hand if something were to happen to me. I found scant comfort in the company of Isaa or Thrella on the following watch, they both seemed more interested in staring at my stump (I forgot Vilkya cast light on it!) but as I turned to head to bed, we were set upon by giant worm like creatures that burst forth from the river. They set upon Ryck Ashtley who lay sleeping nearby and he seemed to get covered in slime. Backing away, I flung acid at them but it seemed to have no effect. Continuing to back away, I stumbled over a number of pots and pans before I could look back and see how many there were. Thrella was surrounded and getting covered by them, as was Isaa to the North. I saw Ryck Ashtley stop moving after a nasty looking bite. Vilkya hit one with a great bow shot and nearly killed it. As Jereboam and Bellas awoke and threw themselves to help Thrella , I turned to help Isaa but was attacked from behind by another of the slimy things. Grasping it with a trick I learned from Max, I was able to retreat and gradually we cut them all down. Thus, battered, bruised, AND MISSING MY FUCKING HAND, we have arrived at the tomb again. Hopefully we can clear the place out… it had better be bloody well worth it!
