I’ve decided to record the mission we’ve been given not too many moons ago, I might be glorifying some parts somewhat but the events are very much real from the harsh moments we’ve been through together. What seemed a good idea back then now ended in disaster seeing as I am now stuck together with my group in this dark damp Dwarven Hold infested with Orcs and only the dead to keep us company in this narrow hallway, i’m afraid these might very well be my last breathing moments. If anyone finds this letter, know that I, Riclamin Tarmikos will continue defending my injured companions untill my last dying breath.
I lost track of time for how long my companion Seamus, my horse Lady and I have been travelling for, forests made way to open fields and then changed into hills, and further into mountains. I rescued him sometime ago as the only survivor of his scouting party, barely alive and breathing as I dragged him underneath one of his fellow men. Taking care of his wounds and building a fire I continued saying a prayer for his fellow companions before the fell got to them.
In hindsight i’m not sure if all the things I did were right, but a neccesary evil as I set to work clearing the Elven bodies from the trail, their lifeless eyes almost apologetically staring at the winter sky as I set to work seperating their heads from their cold bodies.
As we followed a creek downhill we stumbled upon an encampment in the shade of a ruined tower on the other side of the creek, my gutfeeling didn’t notice anything wrong in order so we decided to check it out only to stumble upon the elvish avatar of the everqueen and her bodyguard and a dwarf at a campfire, after sharing stories and drinks we have been offered a quest, or an ideal if I have to put this into perspective. The plan was that Seamus and I, together with a Dornish
thief, A kid who I think has been living in the sewer for too long and a Dwarrow,
at least I think its one escorted the dwarf to his main hold and learn the secrets of
mithril and bring it back to the Everqueen. We would have negotiated and thought
this through before distaster struck.
Warhorns flaring through the pass as a patrol of Goblins and a Stone Golem
marched over the narrow wooden bridge crossing the creek, with no time to lose
we were up and at them, trying to fight them off and having the bridge collapse
with the golem still ontop of it.
Ferrying people to the other side after we dispatched the rest of the goblins a
giant stone hand reached out from the water, the Golem pulling itself out of the
water, getting on my horse I jumped over the creek thinking we were safe, if only
that couldn’t have been further from the truth as a panicked shriek came from the
side the Golem climbed up, it wrecking our encampment and then turning his
gaze, along with ours up ontop of the tower where the Dwarf we have been talking
to not too long ago was signalling and shouting for help.
Leaving no time to lose our party hurdled back over the creek, trying to rescue the
bearded fellow, as I was the first one to arrive I shouted at him to come down,
which after some persuasian he finally did, not through the stairs in the interior of
the tower but by jumping, wrecking his leg pretty badly in the process.
Picking him up and putting him on the horse we hurried back to the bridge with
the Golem in full pursuit, the Dornish thief, clever as he was threw a rope across
which I tried my best to attach to the dwarf as the shadow looming over us got
bigger and the sound louder and harsher.
I will never forget the following moments after I threw the dwarf half across the
creek and getting on Lady to follow suit but it was already too late, the moment
we took off from what used to the entrance of the bridge the golem managed to
grab the hindlegs of my trusted steed, pulling her back with me ontop and
dropping her into the water, and myself hurtling towards the dwarf in the water,
grabbing onto him as we got pulled back ashore as the death whinny of Lady
echo’d across the mountain side as she slowly and painfully drowned.
Making camp not far from there the Erenlander kid came up to me lacking a place to sleep, still deeply in mourning of my horse I decided to lend him my bedroll and tent as I took watch over the camp and deciding if this suicide mission would be worth the risk whilst I slowly dozed off at the campfire.
Something was wrong, I heard my parents calling to me in my dreams, the last living memory I have of them before they were taken away to the mines, leaving me hiding under the house we had before the Orcs put it to the torch, I remember crawling out from behind the unlit fireplace and finding everything else ablaze, I dont know why my parents were taken but I do know a voice calling out from behind the flames and a figure barging his way through the front door, picking me up and dragging me out of that inferno, after which the dream slowly faded away again and made way to shouting.
Being roughly shaked from my sleep by one of the elven bodyguards which was accompanying the avatar he brought terrible news.
An Orc war party came across here not too far away, heading into the direction of the Dwarven Hold we were supposed to go to. Wasting no time we cleaned up camp and chased after promptly.
Finding the tracks the bodyguard was talking about, we decided to follow them, which proved fruitful as we found a wounded Orc on our path. Most of the group vouched for torturing the Orc, and I decided against, even though it would be considered a neccesary evil I turned my back on the group and scouted ahead as they went on their grizzly business.
As they catched up with me further down the road a magnificent view came into being, we finally reached the Dwarven Hold, but upon inspecting it closer the
magnificence and grandeure of it faded away, Orcs were plundering every house and shop and killing anyone left alive.
The Dwarf we took with us on a stretcher flew into a murderous rage and after quite a bit of restraining we got him to calm down and show us the hidden passage into the Hold.
Upon entering the passage we were greeted with nothing but corpses, Dwarves, Goblin and Orc as a bloody battle took place in there, almost as if the Orcs knew where to look for this passage, saying a prayer for the dead we continued down the puzzling labyrinth which the Dwarves are so famous for building.
A glint cought the corner of my eye, upon looking at it I found the corpse of a Dwarf covered in three badly cut-up Orcs, looking further I saw the most magnificently crafted warhammer laying on the floor, probably belonging to the Dwarf, saying a prayer for the valiant hero I took up his warhammer, vowing that I will revenge this hold for him. And promptly naming the weapon Oathstone as to solidify my promise.
Upon reflecting on this decision I have to say I swore never to steal or kill innocents. But this magnificent craftwork must not fall into Orcish hands so I will hang onto it as long as is neccesary.
As smoke started coming in over the ceiling as we explored deeper into the labyrinth, and an obnixious stench of burned flesh filled my nostrils, following the smoke we came across a giant hall with Orcs throwing living Dwarves into a giant bonfire and a couple of them making off with the plunder they took from them.
Not hesitating for a moment we were upon them, fighting tooth and nail as some of my companions were badly injured in the battle. After having dispatched the Orcs only the Erenlander kid and myself were still standing with shouts of rage and anger coming from outside the door, wasting no time I pulled out the mechanism and the giant stone slabs rolled over the entrance, sealing it off.
We were safe for now.
After dragging our companions outside of the hall and tending to their wounds as best I could I heard a metal rattle coming from within the room as Dwarves and Orcs were being overtaken by the Fell, dispatching them quickly with a swift strike of Oathstone as the kid continued tending to our bloodied party.
When I reached one of the Dwarves and was about to end him out of his misery he shot up and grabbed my arm and put a scrollcase in my hand followed by his dying whisper that we should take it to the Everqueen.
So sitting by the candlelight here I, Riclamin Tarmikos am writing this journal and just hoping we make it through the night..
Descending into Darkness
Descent into Darkness
The Survivors log part 1