The Farmstead of Fourfist Begine, Giant, and Ringwaist Megan, Dwarfess.

Hi Ma and Pa,

Welp, things here at the Keep been reel busy fer us. We found this hurrible terribul wicked Chaos temple of Evilawful badnesses. It’s taken weeks to explore and clean out. Why since we first stepped in it our luck has been twisted out a bit. First we had huge battles with skeletons, and dozens of zombies and bonemen at a time. Seems like each battle was so hard we had to pull back and heal up at the Keep again. So, like a ratchet, we go in a bit, fight, retreat, return fight some more...

It’s a dark and terrible underground complex, carved of black marble, veined in bloody red rock and full of all the charms of a sewer, though it smells worse. Honestly ma, hog killing week is sweet as turnip pie compared to an evil temple of evil.

And Zombies, they HURT when they bite! Why one place we had more than 20 of them fighting us at once. And my favorite trick of hurling a barrel of oil has turned up a weak point. Sometimes yew gotta get out of the way; fire kin bite us as much as them.

Well, that brings me to this weeks entertainments; after recharging at the keep a bit, cause I had to replace my favorite halberd, and buy Krask a new longsword, also we needed some more medical poultices, and we all wanted to drink up some rootabega-beer at the wobbly owl to steel our courage before the final spelunk into Doomygloom Chapel, we girded our waists and strapped on our arms and faced the task of scrubbing the darkness out of the sewers of evil.

Goin’ back into the dark maw of awfulness almost immediately we came across a passel of 8 zombies, bad-uns full of fight. They weaved and bobbed and dodged like Granney Bistle used to when she was frying bacon.

Well it wuz a good fight, Krask hisself Osterized a zombie right in half with a single blow! Loric hit at one with his magic sword, but he slipped and broked it, the sword, not the zombie, luckily Wendi had a spare pottery sword, and gave it over so Loric could fight on.

So, like I said, it was a good big fight, even if the baddies were slow and shuffled about like old folks at a hoe-down. Busk broked his favorite mace over one of the zombies, not the first of the week either, and finished the fight with his spare. Then Busk got bit hard. Of course I said our luck was not so good of late, Wendi slipped and almost broke her tool. Mortaleg was put down oncet, twiced, THREE times in one fight! Lucky for him we bought lots of healthbrew. Even I had the brains knocked outta me, and if it weren’t for magic health brew I’d be bones in a tunnel by now!

Anyhow it was a SPLENDID fight, just glorious! Sadly we didn’t make much profit by it, and we wuz hurt so dang bad we retreated to the keep to drink at the Wobbly Owl and lick wounds again.

We do THAT a lot.

But we are entreppid, (Clarance sez that means stubborn). And as soon as we got our breath back we resolved ourselves to finish this bizness oncet and fer all. Re armed, and in my case re-barreled with a cask of oil, we spelunked back into the temple. By now we know the layout there pretty good so we’d figured out where the main lair of the temple’s chief priest had to be. We headed straight there; so far so good. Welp, turns out them evil types really go in for showey religious decoratin’. The main temple was hand carved in eerie black and red, hanged with velvet drapes, and featured this big iron bell. Krask we could hardly hold back from ringing’it, but we redirected him to a door we found behind the curtains; he got it opened right in the face of the big bad Priest man. Turns out the badman had bedrooms back there.

Boy-howdy, the guy was wicked looking, and scary, so of course we asked no questions and took to walloping right away. It didn’t go so good as it might of. Neshem tried to sneak around him while we occupied his attentions, but got caught (he thinks he’s thiefly, but usually he’s...not). Anyhow, that’s when Mortaleg hurled a light spell to blind the Vicar of Villainy, it missed, and the timing didn’t do anyone good, except it helped Busk break another mace. Clarance sez he thinks Breakmace will be a good sobriquet hereon out. He also sez sobriquet isn’t an insult, but a nickname.

Anyhow turns out two zombies have crept up behind, and they wallop Krask pretty hard, so now we are between a plate-armored clerical rock and a rotting zombie hard place! Mortaleg breaks another dagger, and poor Neshim gets the stuffing knocked outta him. Then the bad black bishop of doom strikes with a snake-staff. Varish gets wacked so hard that he died of it, Clarance slipped and broke his favorite iron frying pan, and even I got the dayllights smacked right outta me. But before I went to my knees I got my oil jug broked open and still we had a heck of a time setting the grease alight...by the time we got a good flame going things were looking dire. Bad Bishopman spooks most of the party with some kind of bone chilling fear and more than half of us-uns took to running. Anyhow, by this time fire is everywhere, and the bad man flees into his last resort, a final little room, we’da liked to have finished it all then, but we was only three left afoot, and our chances were too slim to push any harder. We retreated I’m afraid. I managed to swipe some hammers and two candelabras on the way out, but now we are guzzling and crying and holding a wake for poor old Varish; for a spell caster he was a good egg, and will be missed.

Still, I’m awright. Nuthing that won’t heal up fine. We plan on settling with the creep next week but good. Anyhow I can only spare 7 crowns this week, but it’s yours. All my love,

Thewsome (the fifth one).