Faerun Adventures

(The following letter in Goblinese was sent from Underhall to a nearby goblin settlement. All spelling errors are the fault of the original writer) To Grik, You not believe what we been threw last day! Roxx might move clan to another ruin! These adventurers keep coming and bunging up place. Even worse than last ones who broke statue. At least we feast off of them. This time, lot of big jobs come in, kill my favourite two headed doggies AND the giant spiders Roxx was saving for silk harvest. They tie me up, muck up all the dirt and get blood everywhere! And mess up my ear collection! And they burn dinner all up! Say it some rite or something. Perfectly good meal wasted.             I tell them about tentacle thing, hope maybe they take it out or just LEAVE already, but they faff about and wander all over like they drink too much Gnrglbrsh.             I tell you funny thing tho—they run right into gargoyles! Almost kill them! I laugh til I almost wet pants. Bash! Crash! But stupid ventu

An accounting from Greeba. Greeba had already lost one javelin to the rust-making ooze, but she hefted another one to her shoulder cheerfully, as it was destined to pierce the two-headed death dog coming out of the left passage.  Underhall was a dark and smelly place, neither of which bothered her, really, as long as there was some treasure to be found, and foes to be felled.  The snarling beasts emerging ahead were much more alive, and therefore easier to kill, than the slime that had oozed out of the murky underground pool. The new guy Trystan, the bard that bonded with Gorlock, spelled the beasts with a piercing sound that made one bleed from the ears.  The warlock quickly hexed it with another spell, and Wisteria followed the curse with necromancy, probably, and killed one of the dogs.  Greeba didn’t really understand spells, except that it was better to have them cast by your side than by the enemy.  Thibault, the paladin, rushed in to attack the second death dog with a glowing sw

An accounting from Arian. Much had been accomplished at the Ironwolf Keep in the last ten day. A new well had been dug and the old one cleaned out. Grimsby, the stonemason they had hired in Ravensburg, had made much progress on the new entry to the Keep, even putting in a murder hole. Thibault’s servants had been busy cleaning and many of the rooms were now habitable. Frank and his boys were busy patrolling and training. Arian and Wisteria quickly put in a small garden plot so that the plants and herbs they had brought with them from The Grove would not wither and die. With a bit of searching, Arian also located the remains of an old orchard full of apple and pear trees – very promising for future cider or perry concerns! She brought back as many of the late fall fruit as she could carry. Trystan the bard had accompanied them back, having made fast friends with Gorlock. He regaled them nightly with cheery songs of conquest. Elia in particular seemed quite taken with him, much to Sirond

 An accounting from Arian. The Fort was bustling with activity when she returned; the new recruits had arrived and been put to work. The sounds of hammering and sawing filled the air punctuated by the surprisingly authoritative barked commands of Frank as he drilled some guards in the yard. Arian took care of her horse and nodded hello to anyone she passed. She’d felt a growing sense of unease since Jaroo’s sending, especially after casting shillelagh on her staff and seeing it suddenly sprout sharp thorns. Something was amiss. But the others had rightful concerns; there was much that needed doing at the Fort and training besides. Could they hold off for a ten-day before leaving for Feycircle Tor? Or needs must they leave immediately? She hoped – she prayed – that the Forest Father could give her the answers that she sought. She spent the afternoon preparing the things she would need; grinding acorns into a paste, collecting mistletoe leaves, and rainwater from a barrel. She also gathe