We have been trapped down here for what seems an eternity, and though my traveling companions put on brave faces, I know their thoughts are with their loved ones above. I can’t imagine the hell on earth Kenabres must be by now, if it hasn’t already been burned to the ground, and I cannot help but feel guilty for being hidden away down here, instead of battling the demon horde with my brothers and sisters in arms above.
As we were resting among some statues, we were attacked by creatures Mikhail called shadowlurkers. They apparently belonged to a suspicious-looking dwarf, who disapeared after a short skirmish. I would have prefered to question him, but he slipped away before he could be captured.
We pushed ahead, and by a collapsed tower spotted a couple of strange looking humanoids. We moved closer, and when they did not seem to wish us harm, we hailed them.
They called themselves Lann and Daera, and claimed to be the descendants of crusaders from the first crusade. Aravashnial excitedly reffered to them as molepeople, a term they (with good reason) seemed offended by, and he kept muttering something about a theory and some research. At least it keeps his mind off his eyes.
They also claimed that only a few hours have passed since the quake that toppled the tower, meaning all hope is not lost of returning to Kenabres and meeting up with the city’s defenders.
The odd pair were attempting to free Daera’s husband from the ruined tower, and not inclined to leave the suffering to their fate, we offered our help. We tried, but it pains me to say that we were unable to save him.
Nevertheless they offered their people’s aid and hospitality. We made our way towards their home, and easily crossed a chasm created by the quake (and by the grace of all the divines I will smite down anyone who claims otherwise). I must admit, I cannot see how we can possibly win against these forces without our greatest defender. How can men stand against creatures who can literally break mountains?
The dragonscales have proven to contain restorative magics. Resting near one leaves one rejuvenated, and although they loose their power after use, it somehow feels wrong to just throw them away. I think I will keep them until I can find a proper way to bury them.
We also passed through the lair of a sporecougher. Lann claimed it was a fierce predator, and that we should be on guard, but in it’s lair we found it slain at the hands of what at first glance seemed to be Iomedean crusaders. After further inspection though, to our horror, evidence of demonworship started to appear. These “crusaders” seem to be followers of Baphometh and Deskari. It would seem that the demons are not our only enemies. We have traitors in our midst.
After a while, we made it to Lann and Daera’s village, where, after seeing a brooch Erros had picked up at the abandoned campsite, we were immediately taken to see the village chief Sull. He told us the brooch belonged to his son, but unfortunately we could give little comfort other than not having found a body.
The chief seems like a honorable man, kept away from the battles of his forefathers by pridefull men put of by his people’s strange apperance. I cannot see how we will ever win against the abyssal horde if we turn away willing warriors, and I gave him my word that if they answer when the call to arms comes, no righteous man will reject their aid.
The chief also told us that with the recent quakes, only one route to the surface remains: through the lair of their traitor cousins. While I do not rejoyce in sheding blood, demon worship cannot be allowed. Justice will be served.