Sigurd’s Journal: Flight into Exile
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. . . So having left the War Wizards behind and aided in the escape of the Purple Dragons, I found myself on the road. We headed North towards the wilderness. Trevon's wife, Morain, had fled to Silverhall. Trevon was not in the best of shape, suffering some deeper wounds than flesh alone would bear.
With 4 of his men and a fanatic warrior-priest, we sought for directions to Silverhall and a place to rest. We stumbled upon a nest of goblins en route, and were aided by Thelsin, an aloof elf with a ensorcelled blade.
The Black Talons had scouts in the first town we reached, but we managed to keep a low profile. The smith was a decent fellow, dwarven. A gnomish healer agreed to let us leave Trevon there.
And now, the next move . . .
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We managed to sneak back into town by loading Trevon in a haywain. A local Deputy, named Drago, stopped us, but not wishing to leave anything to chance, I charmed him. Dem Mackel, the gnomish healer, agreed to care for Trevon, but it seems the only way to really keep him from dying is to find a special magic apple. This is traded yearly by goblins from the Sunless Citadel.
Something else sinister was afoot, as we tried to keep the entire town from noticing us (a dauntless task). A large encampment of Black Talons was to the North, and one of the other Pax Draconis was found dead after watch (presumably killed by those tree things we encountered).
With the soldiers Tsaran and Alain, as well as a new Dwarven companion named Hornwood, we headed out for the Sunless Citadel. The latter was a scout, perhaps a ranger, and spent some dubious time with the Elf, Thelsin. The rogue had scouted ahead for dangers. Of course, the entire valley was filled with the presence of something. It was rumored the grass and trees did not grow here due to the flames of a dragon's breath long ago.
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Whilst camping, we were met by a Kaz, priest of the traveler, and the elven scout Thelsin. We decided to join forces and explore the fallen tower.