To Recover a Box in the Land of Mourn

By One, we have grown…

Dear Journal Reader,

I woke up this morn, feeling less than confident and more than anxious about that which our group of travelers faced ahead of us… A mission into the once great country, Cyre, obliterated by the purest of evils. The place now known now as Mournland.

Its not so much the thought of dying that gets me, as it is knowing that my family was killed that dark day that Mourn was created in that hideous flash. Me father was the lead emissary in a group sent by our clan to unite our peoples in a common purpose. So, I find solace in the fact that me mother and two young brothers all died doing the right thing. Though I know the days ahead will be a grim reminder of this loss.

It seemed that our group would consist only of; the Warforge… thing named Gyre, Elvar the girly hippie musician bard, and the wee hobbit known as Henna Fenna bo’benna.

The Marketplace Encounter…
It was a bustling morning and we had supplies and equipment to consider, so, we were quite busy shopping when all of the sudden, our group heard a booming voice ’rattle on about “sinning” and “being brought to justice” from the other side of the crowd! I figured it was some crazy cultist cleric spouting new age hippie radicalism, so, I pretended not to hear it and continued my barter with a shop keeper… It was then that this foreboding, crazy-eyed, cultist, cleric spouting new age hippie radicalism burst out from the crowd and came at MY hippie Elvar – accusing the skinny, girlish musician of killing his paladin brethren!

The Cleric, who announced himself as Davin, shot a flaming blast of silvery energy (that clearly added to my already towerspit start to an anxiety-filled preparation into the land of Mourning morning) at Elvar as she… er, I mean he, fled the scene like a boy discovered mounting a daughter of an irate father armed with a two handed broad sword.

So, with me cat-like, warrior reflexes, I deflected the attack with me shield, clearly saving Elvar’s life… once again. Quickly, the Warforge… thing named Gyre, and myself reasoned with the Cleric that this band of misfits may be many things, but NOT murderers.

Davin listened to our reason when Gyre showed him evidence of his brethren’s valiant struggle and whatever clue that led to his demise, as well as our innocence. Our talk led to Davin’s request to join our party’s search and acquisition of the mysterious box, and his mission of vengeance. Personally, I knew little of the box other than it was/is important to my fellow travelers so, it is important to me. Davin, the new age hippie warrior cleric, knew it would lead him to his brother’s killer and righteous justice.

When Death’s Grip Has You; Do You Lay Down, or say “Not Today Laddie!”
The boat ride across the grand river was hours long, and in that time, I got to know Davin the cleric. His motivations are pure and his heart, strong. As we came to the shores of Mournland, we realized the other boat holding Elvar, Gyre and Henna Fenna was lost to us as a heavy fog covered the area. The cold of Mournland was death’s lick as it chilled to the bone. I gathered what I could on the shore to build a fire for warmth only to see that, when I returned, Davin already had a magical hippy fire burning.

We waited…

Hours went by until finally we noticed the rest of our group off in the distance, making their way to us, shaken and weeping, the Mournland had already made its grip. We decided to set out the next morning though throughout the night, I noticed Davin chanting and bringing as much ease and comfort to those affected as he could muster for the group. It was then that I realized our group had grown by one.

The next morning we headed out on a journey into a land that had taken so much from us all. Every step carried a weight.. Every step, another layer of doubt in the mission. The miles and days multiplied this feeling of dread, and in the end, I found meself looking for “anything” to distract me from the sense of death and absolute sadness that filled me.

For me, that “thing” was almost my end, when we were suddenly attacked by at least a hundred severed hands… Claws as they are called. At one point in the fight, I saw that the wee hobbit and myself were getting hit so hard that I decided to scoop her up and move to a safer location before reentering the fray – it’s called a strategic retreat journal reader, I wasn’t running – however, doing so was almost the death of me. At that moment I mustered everything I had left and bellowed “*Not Today Laddie!*” pushing forward as my brave fellows fought on to beat back the Claws.

The Forge…
We took time to heal and prepare for our entry into a large building off in the distance. On the way to the forge, we witnessed the level at which Mournland’s evil flourishes there… It was never more clearly illustrated than with these three greed-stricken gentlemen who argued endlessly over a single cursed piece of gold, until finally their disagreements led to their decay of mind, spirit, and body… forever.

Luckily, they ran when Davin cast them off. I know that their power was felt by us all, and I for one was grateful that the fight was not taken to them.

As we entered the Forge, we were lucky enough to avoid yet another fight with 4 warforge… things when Gyre, our… thing, spoke of finding a way to free them from their torment once and for all. They let us in. We thanked them, and we pushed forward.

Everything was going good until Elvar the hippie kicked in a door and managed to piss off at least twelve Dragon lizard warriors (much like our lizard, who was not there) obviously training for just this scenario… With a curse at me hippie friend, I moved in knowing the fight was on with their captain. He spewed fire from his reptilian mouth in between hisses and the kind of posturing that only a cold blooded killing machine can muster. It was nothing personal when I dispatched his head into two pieces… Actually Dear Journal Reader, it was personal. You can’t just shoot fire from your freaking’ mouth at me and my clan and not expect to lose something in return – in this case, his head!

The fight was short, but we took some hard shots. After licking our wounds, I made sure the next door would include our wee hobbit Henna Fenna changing into something even wee’er and spying the location a bit beforehand.

As planned Henna Fenna transformed into the cutist teeny tiny door mouse and slipped under the doors to find that a group of HobGoblins were trying to hastily make off with some treasure, probably because they heard our scuffle with the lizards, so, we decided to split up and hit them from two sides… Davin and meself went on the other side of the grand room, then Davin burst into it, much like the marketplace incident, yet this time he was disguised as the HobGoblin’s fire god! He told them to bugger off, and low and behold, that they did! Our next encounter was not so easily laid to rest…

The Man and the Box… and the Lizards… and the Warforges
Upon entering a large, rounded room within the forge, I was able to spot the scum-sucking human who possessed the Box we all fought so hard to find, quietly hiding within!

We kicked the door wide open and burst into the room. He fled to the far side. Suddenly, the freaking roof blew off the top of the whole thing.. literally! Me life flashed before me eyes as I thought of that one, terrible moment, my family suffered all those years ago… Then, four Warforge… things, led by an ugly multi-Bladed bloke named Sabre jumped into the room. And simultaneously from behind us, another group of Lizard men led by a Silver Dragon Lizard named, Jarkul (clearly full of himself) poured in through the door… It was clear to me that this was no accident, and suddenly the quest for the Mysterious Box was more like a race to get the damn box before it landed in the hands of ANY of these cretins! I reached the man with the box first, kicked his ass off of it while snatching the box from his grip…

I yelled “_I’ll destroy the Box if you come any closer!_” to the dragons, while Elvar dispatched a warforge bent on beating me to it. As the rest of the warforges began to engage, I yelled to the head dragon warrior to take them out or else the box got it – I noticed they unshackled a half-human half-dragon, blue colored, female – she let out a mighty burst of whoopass on the machines that crippled the lot, while Gyre also slashed away on the Blade leader…

I saw that as me opportunity to throw the mysterious box over the wall where Davin had jumped over. He created a sanctuary for the box in his clericy/new age/hippie fashion!

Me? Well, dear Journal Reader, I did what I do best…

I hit that Silver Dragon leader, Jarkul, so fricken’hard with me battle axe that even his little lizard children will one day come out with a crap case of reptilian brain damage!

As he went to his knees, Gyre and myself grabbed the unconscious Blue Human-Dragon lady and made our way over the wall with the rest of the party so to free her from her captors, and make our way back home.

In the end, we put some serious pain on both of these factions. We also got the Box. And now they know, that Gíron and his clan/family are not ones to rollover easily!

So dear Journal Reader, to Mournland I say “To hell with you!”

… though I know it isn’t really the end, for I know that one day, we’ll have to go back.

DM Note: Giron gains 100 exp and 1 inspiration card for this log

To Recover a Box in the Land of Mourn

Eberron 5th edition Giron