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Expedition 19B - Rarder's Account

Entry

Another near-death experience that was completely avoidable. I really ought to stop listening to the youth of today. I owe my life to following daring rescuers: Boots, Harry, Percival, Caradog, and Relf. The latter two have perished whilst saving us.

If I understood Hats correctly, we all fell under some sort of charm when we entered the cave with the dusty carpet and glowing orb. He found us feasting from some magically replenishing bowls. They seemed to create tasty food, but alas, it did not satiate at all.

I was slapped back to reality by Boots, Hats's cousin. How many of them are there, I wonder? The rescuing party seemed quite distressed, babbling about some spooky undead or something like that following them.

Oh, how little did they know of Amos's and mine prowess; of our accomplishments obliterating the undead hordes! What could possibly stand in our way?

My recollection is a bit foggy, but we spent a fair amount of time in the cave. I think I was searching some bookshelf with the elf we've liberated from that cursed tower. Nothing came in, that "scary" undead must've been a figment of imagination?

But alas, the moment Boots opened the doors I could recognize a figure that once scared Crane shitless. We slammed the door shut, and our battle-priest Amos came up with an ingenious plan.

As soon as Boots opened the doors, Amos blinded the undead abomination with divine light, and I chucked my silvered hand axe with all my might—the creature recoiled! Righteous bloodlust; insatiable thirst for vengeance; pent-up frustration from being charmed welled up; we rushed the pathetic lich, doused it with holy water and battered it with silver platers.

It perished with a whimper, exhaling its last foul breath in my direction. To hell with it and all its brethren!

Oh, how I rejoiced in seeing my battle-brother Hats, patiently awaiting us on a ship. I'm too tired to scribe all the details of return and our reporting to the baron. The only important thing is that we accepted his offer to recapture an outpost in his name. There was a banquet, but I was in a sour mood for it.

This youth will be the end of me.

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