My General demands a report!
Of late, my General, Maglor's Blades have longed for your counsel....
For, upon the untimely death of Grimbergen's bovine foe,
We didst lead ourselves much deeper into these strange woodlands,
Ever chasing the whim of Malcolm Grey's curse!
(And it doth bear heavily on him, my General!
Watch you how he doth comport himself when in the throes of its madness!)
Perhaps weary of the war that hath raged within our lunatic band,
An odd harmony, an uneasy truce had settled upon us,
And there was little bickering;
'Twas as if each of us realized that the success of our cause, and our various fates, and our sole hope of salvation lay in each others hands....
Maglor doth raise his chalice in support of such a notion!
Upon a time, we met a lad, Lance;
Grief and panic stricken was he,
For he told us that his homestead had been attacked by "rocks"
And that these mineral vestiges had robbed the boy's father of his life!
Desperately, the lad had left his mother, trapped in the cabin they had shared,
to search for the family cow that had gone missing.
Cruel Fate made the missing beast none other than Grimbergen's unfortunate victim, of which you, my General bore witness.
Consolations were offered by all, but especially by Polradia. Grimbergen was sorrowful and repentant. And even the cold logic of Counselor Moonbeam could not dispel remorse.
Be that as it may, we followed the lad, using what magics we could to protect him, back toward his cabin, hoping to rescue his poor mother.
Soon, we did encounter strange, demonic creatures, apparently animated stone gargoyles of the kind seen above church doors in certain lands. They proved treacherous in battle. A lethal fireball caused the death of the lad, much to all of our despair.
Aye, but we had our hands full without our General's mighty axe. At one point, Grimbergen, Kyililiana, Vren, and poor, mad Maglor were sent to the Fugue Plane, each to plead his case before his god, to be returned to the Prime Material. Lonely, indeed, were Malcolm Grey and Polradia, the battle's only two survivors.
It would appear that the destiny planned for us has not yet ripened, for each of us was granted another opportunity.
And so it is that you once again return to us, my General. Come! There is still hope that we may rescue the poor widowed homsteader!
And besides, the Amulet doth bid it!
The "Tainted" within our party,
(Those being Malcolm Grey, Grimbergen, and your humble bard, afixed with the moniker because of our temporary enslavement to the Amulet)
Have been visited with strange dreams.
I leave it to Malcolm and to Grimbergen each to relate his own reverie,
But I will relate my dream to you;
I dreamt we were once again in Esirup,
And it was my wedding day,
Fair Belindra and I were amongst all of our friends and the good people of Esirup,
And my dream-spirit soared!
(Ah, that it were so in my waking hours!)
A great celebration was to be initiated!
But lo!
Of a sudden, a dart flew forth from the throng,
And pierced lovely Belindra's neck, before my very eyes!
And Maglor's heart fell into darkness....
And so, I awoke....
We have pondered these dreams since....attempting to discern whether they be omens of things to be, or delicate messages conveyed from the very gods.
'Tis to be thought upon....
Maglor strokes his chin, deep in thought....
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