If my comrades haven’t noticed my heritage by now, they probably never will. I drew my mother’s elven curve blade for the first time today. It remains too heavy for one hand, but with such large vermin about I can no longer rely on speed alone. The snarky gnome has even shown me how to redirect my arcane energies into each strike. He suggests lightening the blade with magic (if I still insist on such antiquated fighting styles.)
We returned to the old silver mine upon my recuperation to face Tartuk, stopping only to camp and successfully dispatch a pack of hungry wolves. Along with Mikmak, the party moved into the mine quietly enough for a moment of observation. At this point Vistos approached Tartuk as Chief Sootscale and his suspicious servitors made no motions to stop him. However, the uppity gnome’s attempts to close casting distance were interrupted as the shaman enchanted our strong right arm, Tabal. This time I was shocked to witness everyone bolstered by my legwork, for normally they politely look away. Even so, it was not enough for Tabal who fled in fear with brave Mikmak to look after him. The fray ended soon enough as Tarquin’s beast made the rounds and Oligo ended Tartuk’s life with one deft arrow.
It was folly as we suspected. The “cursed” kobold bodies revealed stab wounds and magical trickery that exposed Tartuk’s fraudulent statue. Unless you believe Vistos’ claim, none of us saw it coming when Tartuk reverted in death. He is, or was, a gnome succumb to madness as depicted in his own journals. I wonder if there is any further meaning to his particular choice of disguise…? Anyway, we left the kobolds their “treasure” and confiscated the crazy gnome’s valuables. I have spry new boots and my blade hit true. It was a good day.