An Excerpt from the Journal of Lord Ororn Renath

September 11th, 766KE

It's been about three months since they caught me and I'm just getting my stuff back. Those bastards. Here I am in Doomfront ready to live out the rest of my natural life in a prison colony. The irony of someone of my status rotting away here isn't lost on me.

Those damn elves were less arrogant than I gave them credit for. They were prepared for my ambush. It looked like just a couple of knife-ears transporting some product, which would have been a piece of cake. What I didn't see was the dozen or so guards hidden in the back of the wagon.

Once they realized that all of the other murders were close by, they sent me straight here to Shallorin. Calling it "Justice" seems like a stretch, but it sure is Poetic.

When I arrived in Doomfront, they put a magic item around my neck. I can't seem to take it off or identify what it is.

September 23rd, 766KE

The leader of our so-called prison, Vrethan, has invited all of the residents to a meeting. Most aren't turning up but I smell an opportunity. I arrived in a large room with fifty-some-odd people, most of whom were new arrivals by the amount of life they still have in their eyes. I've been here not two weeks and I've already started losing hope.

Here's the opportunity. If we fetch a magic artifact for him, a certain helmet, we'll be granted our freedom. Unfortunately leaving the island is still very treacherous, but we would also be free to join Vrethan's Coldsea Guards. Sounds like a deal to me.

After he made his pitch, I saw a knife-ear talking to two of my brethren when he suddenly lifted his wizard's staff above his head. From the magic item around his neck, I heard a voice:

Hostile intent detected. Dispensing liquid that makes people explode.

And just as the herald said, the wizard exploded into a mist of blood. I ran over to see if my fellow dwarves were alright. The paladin, Hekju Moneth, seemed fine, but the cleric, Bulgor Chiselfoot, got a little burned. He healed himself without too much trouble.

It turns out the three of us had all independently dispatched our fair share of knife-ears. We decide to stick together for the coming journey. The artifact we are to search for is a helmet. It's stored in a tower three days journey north of here. Although "North" is somewhat subjective, this land doesn't seem to follow the usual rules.

September 26th, 766KE

We have arrived at the entrance to the tower, but the way is blocked by a very deep pit. We cannot even see the bottom.

Bulgor has a length of rope that seems to be long enough to get down to the entrance if we head around to the northeast edge of the pit.

It took us about an hour to get through the forest around to where we wanted to be. Bulgor tied his rope and he went down with Hekju. I stayed at the top to untie the rope and throw it down so we couldn't be followed. Then I jumped down and used my "Misty step" spell to land safely on the ground.

We are now at the door to the tower, and inscribed on it is a riddle:

The key is found within your head
Use the key to paint me red
Be aware of what you spurn
For what you give shall be returned

Bulgor decided to headbutt the door until he bled. Then he started using his fingers to spread the blood around the door. It took a lot of blood but eventually he managed to get the door open. He was expecting to be healed because "what you give shall be returned", but nothing happened. He used a healing spell to get back into tip-top shape.

Bulgor not getting healed should have been a clue that something was wrong. As soon as we passed the pair of braziers by the door, all of them were lit but some kind of magic trap. Three blood-forms appeared before us looking remarkably like Bulgor. I guess that's what the riddle truly meant.

The bloodforms had the element of surprise, but before attacking they all curiously dropped the weapons they were holding (exact copies of Bulgor's) and donned the shields from their back. Only after this did they start firing spells at us.

The battle only lasted a couple of minutes, and all three of us were unharmed. I have a feeling that if the blood-forms hadn't taken the time to don their shields, it would have turned out differently.

We hadn't expected to get to the helmet so quickly, so now we have to figure out how to get out. If only we had just left the rope there.

After some discussion, we have decided that Bulgor will use his masonry tools to carve handholds into the stone high enough for me to use my "Misty step", which as a range of 30ft, to get up to the treeline and let down the rope again. This takes a while and involves him standing on our shoulders for a good amount of time.

While Bulgor was working on the handholds, he was attacked by a large hedgehog-looking creature. The quills looked poisonous. Before I managed to even get there to assist, Bulgor and Hekju had managed to push it off of the ledge.

September 27th, 766KE

Bulgor has finished the handholds, and I've set up the rope. Hekju and I are waiting for Bulgor to retrieve the helmet. We had decided to leave it on the corpse in case there was some kind of trap.

A couple of minutes later, Bulgor arrived at the top of the rope. We begin our journey back to Doomfront.

September 30th, 766KE

We have returned to Doomfront. Vrethan removed the amulets around our necks and the brands on our thumbs. Given the choice to leave Shallorin or stay and become part of his Coldsea Guards, we all decided that staying would be better than trying to make it back to Ethurun on our own.