Matthew Hunter

#Bern So we decided to stop sniffing around doors and start opening them. The ornate snake door led to a staircase leading down. That’s a nope, at least for now. Maybe when we’re done here. The room without a door led to a small hallway filled with clay snake statues. They all had real metal swords with visible rust, meaning likely they animate if disturbed or somehow activated. We carefully slipped past without touching the statues and checked the far end; nothing noticeable.

#Oscar After my brief foray into the world of the adventurer, the rest of the year seemed to just fly by. I had much to learn from the near death experience at the fangs of a two-headed snake, and indeed spent many days and nights in contemplation, filing form after form with the goddess Denara seeking a boon of her wisdom. Eventually I received her insight; I must work on a series of stretching exercises every day, to improve the flexibility and strength of my lame leg; it will likely always be a weakness, but even a little improvement could save my life.

Feverborne After spending the night camped in a secret room, we took stock of our gains and losses and decided it was time to return to town and reprovision. Having scouted the ruins (and more importantly the path to and from) we could plan more effectively for our next expedition, and with more funds to boot. Buying a mule to carry provisions for example. Though I hear rumors of a mule thief in town lately.

Born on a battlefield from a prior union between her camp follower mother and a soldier. Not the soldier her lovesick mother originally followed. He died early on. Just a random soldier, because her mother stayed on following the army, having nowhere else to go. Her childhood was spent observing what went on in the camp follower tents, and observing what goes on with an army in between battles. From her mother and her ilk, Stria learned what to do to and with a man.

“Call me Leslie. Or Les. I’m one or the other. Some days, I’m both.”

Bern I came to Eastdale looking for guide work, leading people through the wilderness. Don’t really like people much. Animals are much simpler, I know where I stand out in the wilds. Difference between a dog and a wolf and a cat you can see and smell and taste. Humans, well, some of us will lie to ya and cheat ya and kill ya and we all look the same.

Feverborne North of the portcullis were two doors, both closed. We listened and they were both silent as well. Opening the one to the north revealed a closet full of skeletons; someone’s family has a lot of dark secrets. Well, actually zombies. But I couldn’t resist the turn of phrase. There were about 6 of them but they didn’t move when we opened the door. Huh. Oooohya worked up his courage, threw a torch at one, and we slammed the door and took off.

Feverborne We left Bayonetta’s body at our campsite. We weren’t ready to return and there would be no point carrying it with us. A simple cairn of stones would do for now. u-Heury collected her possessions (and wages).. we will see what he does with them. Further south and west we found a cavern floored with obsidian. It was slippery. Very odd, obsidian is normally shiny but not slippery.

Rumor has it that near on a score of years past, a woman mated with a werewolf in the woods west of Eastdale, and the man known as Bern o’ the Wild is the result of their mad, frenzied coupling. His friends, if he had any, would say it was the source of his freakish strength. His enemies say it’s why no one likes him. Bern says it’s mutual and stays in the woods most of the time.

Feverborne We broke camp after a night of bitter cold at the edge of a field of strange black sand. It seems the rumors of an ancient magical disaster there are true. That, or it’s just black sand. u-Heury threw a fit when it was time to go in, and refused. He was packing his bags to head back to Eastdale. I wasn’t having it; it would be desertion in the face of the enemy and I said so to his face.