Games Logs

The sled journey done, the comrades stretch after the long ride. An absence of strenuous activity in the bitterly cold environment of Stygia has left them stiff. If not exactly rested, then they are at least not exhausted. The party unpack themselves to stand at the mouth of the Cave of Lost Things. The opening gapes, dark and foul smelling. In the doorway stands a sentient Yeti guardian, easily 9 feet tall, leaning on his halberd. The helm he wears upon his head seems more p

The party faces a choice: pay one scrip for a bunk in the dormitory, or sleep outside in the freezing Stygian air. Most of them pay. Those who don't spend the night on the ice, with the exception of Lynx, suffer for it. Morning finds them exhausted. Some nights in Hell are like that. At dawn, one of the sled's hellhounds pads up to Krasnyy with a leather pouch hanging beneath its chin. Inside: a letter from Proctor Azurath. He has taken the liberty of arranging transport t

“Who is next?” The merragon guard, whose name they have come to discover is Ironbrand, stands before the table of bonding items. Before the

The bonfire tips into the seat just vacated by Lynx, who has fallen atop Nesquo in a tangle of limbs. Nesquo’s pack bursts open on impact,