Battle scarred and bruised, I woke in an unfamiliar bed. I blinked at in the candle light and barely made out the sobbing figure keeping vigil over me. I reached out to stroke that familiar hair…he had found me again…after all these years…he found me. A cry of “mom”snapped me back to the present. Of course he wasn’t here. Fiara, our daughter. My Fiara, my little fiery one…what happened?

I remembered the old Rjurik king. He had fallen in battle as we beat back the orog forces. The keep burned around us, but some how the king’s eye’s snapped open and he surged forward to chase after the retreating scarred orog champion. We panicked. We were bloodied and bruised. We had lost most of the guard forces of the keep. Javiero was still unconscious and Kenrick had just recently been revived. Majid and I were horrified as the king began his berserker charge against the Scarred Champion again with Govannon chasing after him to support him. We all chased after the king, not knowing what we were going to get ourselves into.

The Scarred Champion was focused on his retreat as we hounded him through the outskirts of the castle. We knew that if he reached the causeways and alleys of the city itself, he was as good as gone. The Rjurik king traded blows with his foe but ultimately fell in battle once again, this time for good. Though the battle raged around us, the power of his blood flowed out and around to us and throughout the city. There was no time to mourn the king because the Scarred Champion continued his retreat. Govannon’s iron filing monster harried him to the left and I tried to cut off his escape route. None of us were prepared for what followed. Where the fallen king’s body lay, there was a shudder and his skeleton exploded out from his flesh, eyes glowing, the monstrosity continued the fallen king’s assault on the Scarred Champion. Though terrifying, it was quickly dispatched.

I fell in battle shortly there after, but my poor daughter relayed the rest of the harrowing ordeal. She cried hysterically in telling of how she struck the blow that ended the Scarred Champions life. My poor little one had never killed another living being. I tried to comfort her as best as I could, but I knew there was much left to do.

As soon as I was able I sought out Eoindeln, the elven ambassador whom I had met briefly before the siege. He was no where to be found. I continued to look while the others took to various means to make themselves helpful to the survivors of the siege. Fiara and I found a letter writen in Sidhelien from him, but it was not what we expected. I took the letter to Majid and showed him the warning Eoindeln had left. It seemed the king’s sons were coming home, and they were not friends of my people. We gathered the rest of the Six and prepared to make a hasty retreat before we found ourselves in the midst of possible waring heirs.

We gathered in the stables and as we were about to embark on our journey home, Javiero noticed the horses were spooked about something and it appeared there were wolf prints in the stables. We followed them briefly and came face to face with perhaps the largest wolf I have ever seen. The wolf spoke the language of man well enough and claimed to be the fallen King Bervinig. He instructed us to take the helm of Jarl Skappa for his sons were not worthy to wear it and told us we must also retrieve the ring from where we found the helm. We stood there dumbfounded as the wolf bound away after delivering his message and disappeared off the cliffs near the shore. Govannon went back to retrieve the helm and we found ourselves heading back to the forgotten tomb.

We left the children guarding the entrance, not thinking we would be long. Little did we realize we would be gone long enough to worry. We found a hidden staircase and began our descent down into the forgotten catacombs looking for the ring. As I finish up this entry, I hope we can make a swift escape from these lands and head back home.