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Expedition 21A - Rarder's Account

Following our last expedition, we decided to stage a two-pronged attack on the Bone Keep. A mercenary force, led by Hats and Artzua, would lay siege to the keep, whilst I and the rest of adventurers sneak in, and lead the assault from within. But, alas, it was not meant to be. In a most disappointing turn of events, Hats and Artzua decided not to join our liberation efforts. My trust in them is irrevocably shaken.

We prepared for three weeks. Amos was doing magical research; Alf, Dalgarn, and Peach were recruiting mercenaries; and Percival and I were scouting the keep for nearly two weeks. We've seen a number of feline creatures, some 20 to 25 by my estimate. And we managed to recruit only nine mercenaries, as well as a blood-smelling zealot. She calls herself Abarran, and lives to extinguish the life-force of any chaotic being. Seeing her with nothing but robe and slingshot, I couldn't help but to gift her my crossbow.

With baron's blessing (and his ships), we set sail for the keep. Abarran and mercenaries were to land east of the keep, and draw as much attention to them as possible. Presence of Brother Amos was most welcome, as we were blessed by heavy rain—concealing our presence, and damping out footsteps.

Through the trapdoor, up the staircase, by the statue, through damp bedroom, to the familiar ghoul lair, up into the keep, unblock the doors of the armoury, up once more, into the wizard's bedroom, through the secret doors behind the painting, into the wizard laboratory. We moved swiftly; with confidence; on a mission; wizard's head our only desire.

Alf, the bravest of us, breached into to wizard's tower, absorbing hits. I followed, stood side-by-side with him, and set the cursed warlock aflame. May he feel what my fallen comrades felt! His two feline bodyguards gave him enough time to put my party to sleep—but I won't fall for the same trick twice! Dalgarn cleaved him in half. May the warlock rot in afterlife.

Only one thing left to do. Cleanse the keep.