The Frozen Kingdom

Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

So we finally dispatch the evil Flesh Carver that was besieging the good village of Bloodstone, only to be cursed by the artifact that the hobgoblin had got his hands on. It was some sort of fog controlling device. As far as I can tell, each of us have been tattooed with the mark of the Lich of old in different places, mine being on my right butt cheek. Luckily it didn’t happen to show it’s ugly print on any outwardly visable place on any of us. On the way back to Bloodstone, that Artemis guy that Fryvvl was talking about shows up and demands we hand over the artifact and the cask. I gladly gave him the cask, but told him that there would be no parting with anything else that we found in the cave. He didn’t like this response, but if I’m going to be carrying a mark from this damn thing, I want something to show for my mark! Fryvvl wasn’t too happy to upset Artemis, but the others seemed to be in agreement with me. He gave the impression that the goblin hide out was no problem for him, but I think he’s full of shit. If it was no problem, why did he need us to get it for him? Coward is my guess.

To add to all of the excitement, we get back to Bloodstone and Witherspoon, the owner of a local inn and tavern, approaches us about the wagon we sold to Leeroy Jenkins when we arrived in Bloodstone. It turns out that some of the goods on the wagon were to be delivered to him. Oops! I avoided a near disaster by putting on a kick ass show for the old man (thanks to the help of my new stage crew, manager, security, PR department, and roadies (you guys know who you are)). The trouble didn’t end there though. Those fancy pants Lords of Waterhaven decided to crash the show and cast some sort of spell on the crowd, causing the bitch of the groups terrible, out of tune playing to mesmorize them all. This proved nothing I couldn’t handle though, because I took to the stage (and the tavern) and showed her who was boss of the lute in this town. It didn’t matter though, because the leader of the group was so disgusted by his defeat that he started a bar room brawl. In all the huff puff, I was able to find out that they somehow had my precious Ophelia. They must have got it from Slavis some how. I’ll kill them if they damage her…

Just when we were about to drop their rogue and take my Ophelia back, the fancy pants took for the door when some undead decided they wanted a drink. We handlede the undead, but soon realized that the city was overrun. Ezmerelda came out and blamed us for this for some reason though. She told us we had to go to the graveyard and stop what we had started. Some nerve for a woman I’ve never met, even if she was smokin. We were able to get there by the sewers and bypassed all of the dangers of the sewers thanks to my quick thinking and Fryvvl’s quick ritual casting (thank you floating disk!). We popped up in the graveyard and are still fending off the undeaed beasts, trying to protect the undertaker but keep our own lives. It seems we may just have to leave him and bolt for the tome.

I almost forgot to mention that Flesh Carver was blabbering on about someone named Kelver or something like that. I can’t even remember what exaclty the name was that he was talking about, but I’m sure it’s important. My more observant companions were probably paying more attention to him while my eyes were on the loot. Well, I hope they were anyway…

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