Rumblings of Change

The wolf isn't the one drooling

From Diala’s Journal

We found our armor and the rest of our gear, which had been taken from us when we were captured. Those of us that weren’t already armed were now able to join into the fight equally, though I still find myself more than a little curious how so many of our small band were able to call their weapons to their sides. I studied long and hard, bonding with my blade in a way that I had considered unique, but so many were able to reach out and make my hard work look pointless…

Focus, I must focus. We decided against leaving the ruins since we couldn’t guarantee that we’d easily be able to do so or make our way back inside. Fleeing was not an option either, since the drow seemed fiendishly set on pitting their infernal allies against us on a regular basis and with increasing effectiveness. We had to end this soon or they’d eventually overwhelm us, no matter where we fled. After some debate, we retreated back to the jail portion of the ruins that we had just cleared, intent on resting and using its impressive fortifications to our favor should the drow decide to attack us before we could renew ourselves. Luck, or something else, was on our side and we were able to rest uninterrupted.

Now, magics and spells fully replenished, we set forth to find and end the drow threat. Moving further into the ruins finally led to a large room and the drow who, after cryptic taunts and what had to be subtle lies, attacked. In the vicious battle, the elf, Marisol, was slaughtered and Corlin reduced to a incoherent simpleton. Though the elf seems beyond even divine aid, I must research more into Corlin’s condition, for though he can still fight to some extent, this husk of a man is not the man I married.



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