Games Logs

Orbart pounds down the hall and finds Bayleaf braced in a bedroom doorway, weapon up. The minotaur rounds the corner into the room and stops. The one who called himself Viktor lies where he fell. His daughter is gone. The Vistana swordsman stands at the ready, a dangerous glint in his eye. Bayleaf comes in beside Orbart, and his blade lands, knocking the elbow of the Vistana, who swears. Together they drive the swordsman back, and for the first time something moves behind t

The safe house is too small for a battle, but a battle has come anyway. In the narrow hallway, a Vistani swordmaster lunges at Bayleaf, his blade flickering once, twice. The paladin answers in kind, and on the second cut, a surge of divine power skitters up his sword's edge. For one blinding instant the corridor is lit white, every face carved from shadow. Torgan, bleeding from a half a dozen wounds, hefts his greataxe against a Vistani lieutenant. "If I go down," he growl

The forest is very quiet when a man is dying in it. Torgan stands over the body of the first Vistani, the fallen leaves around him already gone dark with blood. The second one — his captain, a lean man with a crossbow slung across his back and a pair of scimitars still in his hands — circles to the left. Viktor watches from somewhere behind Torgan, breathing in shallow pulls. Arabella, round-eyed, does not make a sound. The captain is not going to fall easily. Torgan can

The cave beneath the Gulthias Tree smells of wet stone and worse things. Two warrior druids are working through the party with methodical patience, spears leveled now rather than thrown. A druid at the back holds concentration on an Entangle spell, and the vines have made the tunnel floor nearly impassable. The second druid — the one Krelldutt has been trying to reason with — shows no sign of being moved by anything short of catastrophe. Catastrophe, as it happens, is clos

Wintersplinter is already gone, its colossal form crashing through the treeline in the direction of Vallaki. Violet Robin has been sent back to the Martikov vineyard for horses. On the muddy slope of Yester Hill, the old druid still fights. Blinsky and his monkey, Piccolo, lie where they fell — victims of the old man’s lightning. They are still, likely dying. Torgen, Feesh, and Krelldutt have closed around the druid, who has proven far stronger than his age suggests. He does