Couple days later, we came to a place called “Nettle’s Crossing”, on the river. I’ve seen a lot in my days, but I’ll say what I saw nearly made my breaches wetter than the river it crawled out of. A man, a dead man, crawled out of the river and came shambling up to with, lookin’ just like he was about to tell us the good news ‘bout Abadar. Always thought clerics were full o’ shit when talking about “undead”. Must be some powerful stuff, this dark magic, ’cuz this “Nettle” was falling apart all over, rotten inside and out. Gods, the smell!
“Bring me the Stag Lord, or join me,” he said, over and over, actually. My fear was soon boredom, but Megil stepped in with some wisdom and said the best choice was to go for the Stag Lord. We agreed, I guess, to bring the dick lord to Nettle, eventually, lest he “bring us down to join him in ’is watery grave” or some such unholy fate. We left.Later, off in the distance, Tarquin spotted somethings very big. After some squinting, four gods-damned trolls showed up in sight. Megil said it would be a good idea to go around. I was looking for some excitement, but he put his little hand on my shoulder, and just shook ’is head. The next day played out showing Megil had the right idea.
The details are fuzzy for me, likely ‘cuz the troll hit me first, last, and middlin’. But one of the big monsters found us. Megil unleashed a wave of melee I have not seen in life. Back and forth he danced, bleeding that troll like pig on the rag. I"d have been impressed with all his dodges if the Troll didn’t decide to hit me more after. Despite Megil’s onslaught, Oligo got the killing blow, right in the heart.
Trolls, turns out, heal fast. Our lucky gnome used his gnomish magic to burn the big’n back down, and keep ’im down. Good gnome.
I’m fine. bleeds all over.