The rise of Glorath

9 days after the deep in the bog of despair.

The path through hell, is nerror, the places of rest few. The things in these swamps would rather see most of us dead. The night has stalked and attacked us most of the way. Tending to the brid pone has been problematic, as our cleric, was spent tending to the wounded, and the last fight. Apparently keeping the dolt in the air was rather taxing as he could not seem to miss the arrow fire.

My servant has been busy keeping him alive, and the cleric fed him some herbs. Garthroot has stopped most things from attacking, but a swamptical almost took out half the party. The bloody thing ambushed us, and by sheer surprise took Gothroot out, smashing his limp frame into a tree. Me, the mage, and Thesria managed to kill it off. Though if the mage's acid rain did not make it flinch so, I doubt she would have been able to angle her sword in its maw, for that death blow.

The very ground begs to dog our steps, sucking our feet in. The nights hunt us with all sorts of foul things. I even almost got rapped by a raping bush... If it was not for the mage..... I don't think I will ever look at a vine wall the same again.

I sit on watch with Thesria, the moon is full, and soon we shell retair our shift. One more day and these coursed woods will be gone. But the moon is nice, and the night is for once rather peaceful. We banter a little, but for the most, we enjoy the company. I pray that our new friends will last through this ordeal. Yet, I feel we all have come oh so close to death.

But if we give up, we may find that the inaction is worth then death. My people will suffer, and the people of this land will be corrupted, used. They will find many a cruel death. These thoughts drive me to that night, as I sink into my hands, as I sink into the earth.

But she comforts me, tells me stories of valor, of friends and family, lost. She tells me to hold on and be strong. She is right, I can't let those deaths go unpunished, I can't let more fail to the demon lord's cruel intentions. Not to act would be worst than death, even if I could guarantee my survival. I would be a dog and a cowered. Her words, her speech, it set me on fire.

Day 11, the outskirts to the fields of plenty, Owned by the 1st lupin tribe of the stage.

Hostiles on the lupin lands can start wars I am told. We may not be, but as far as they care, we are a war band. With Gorthroot in our midst' I am told we may be such a start, that it could even unify the 20 tribes, We may need that, but not in such a context.

We have been sending smoke signals for a day. Waiting and hoping someone will talk to us. I am told that it is unlikely, and even if we were, they would want to test our honor by some task, before a chief will ever see us.

Though that leaves me confused as to why they also tell me that the messenger is flying the chief flag, and the guards, seem to be wearing his body gourds colours.

Though the confusion only deepens when The chief exits their midst, and ask me by name, for some tea, asking the others to leave. They were confused and hesitant, but I sent them off. Why does he seem to know me, and what does one of such rank wish with a stranger to these lands?

The tea was good, and the small talk, drove me to anxiety, what does he want? He seems to understand the threat knocking at the gates. So why does this pretense?

Yet the more I learn, The more glad that he has offered me some mead to warm my heart. As I take a pull, from this spicy honeyed drink, he puts a foul cube on the table.

Apparently, once a pond a time, It was to be used as a weapon, It is said that it destroyed much of the land. Glorath used it to banish me and my man. My outrage and disbelief were stunted, as he gave me a letter.

If the words are to be believed, I am to use this cube, to travel in time, I am their savior, a great evil will attack them centers from know. If I don't, these lands of them will fall to blight, and this cube will fall to the demon's hand, and it will ruin us all.

Only then can we destroy this cursed relic. The lupins have found a way, It was a mission they spent so many winters on. So many leaders fell to times march. But the chief seems pleased, that he was able to serve me. But who is he? Who are is people? They seem to believe they owe me a life debt that non can pay.