Our expedition up the mountain, though not uneventful, was predictable enough. We encountered a pack of starving wolves which were quickly disposed of; I even felled one myself via my crossbow. It was the first time I actually dropped an attacking beast and I must confess the rush was exciting and addictive. Later we encountered a truly massive species of bear. My conscious is not proud of how we disposed the noble creature, leading it into a ravine and showering it with missiles from a safe distance, but I was starving and bear meat is a personal weakness of mine. Shortly after we were ambushed by a family of crag cats, in which one broke through our front lines and engaged me. I was able to fell the beast with my sword, but not before receiving a nasty scratch on my forearm. Fortunately I had purchased some healing drought before leaving Nova Vaasa and was none the worse for the encounter.
It was at this point our bickering witches decided to resume their quarrels. Our tour guide, having gone off to scout the spider den appeared dragging some poor girl's lifeless corpse. She was hellbent on exploring these spider caves. The blind one wanted to go to some cottage. Mr. Torden, the brawn if not the brain of the group, seemed content to have 3 ladies all to himself. I myself thought the idea of a cottage to stretch my sore feet and get out of the cold seemed like a fine idea. At this decision we lost our tour guide, who decided to go alone, and though a bit smaller and surely less combat effective, at least the newly restructured group harmony was a relief to my emerging headache.
After a brief encounter with a kindly dwarf, our gang of three approached the cottage. Following a brief preparation period, during which I sneaked a sip of whiskey-did I mention it was freezing and I had a headache, we stormed the cottage. At first it appeared just as I expected it too, desolate; but out of nowhere, we were beset by a flurry of mindless undead that dropped me with a quick arrow shot to the chest. You might ask how I know they were mindless? How else would you describe a creature, that with an armed warrior and a spell hurling witch about to assault him, would choose to fire at hapless victim armed with journal and torch? Fortunately, my comrades quickly disposed of the threat and the kindly witch treated my wounds, or else my situation might have been dire.
After searching the cottage, we uncovered the cellar door, which my confident companions decided to explore. Having learned from the previous encounter, I exchanged my journal for my short sword and descended with them. The sights I encountered in that cellar were eyeopening and life changing. We were immediately beset by a host of horrors and apparitions of numbers and kind that I could not have imagined in my darkest nightmares. Their hunger was ghastly as they tore into my flesh, searching for my life source. I lost track of the witch, but Torden fought with ferocity and courage. When I woke from near death, I was alone before the terrible host of death, I tried to flee, but was again beset by their full hunger. I can only assume they had their fill and were slowly bleeding my life force, as once again I was allowed to rise from certain death. Stumbling, in desperation, I grasped and scurried up the ladder and through the cellar door. I found my recovering companions and collapsed in exhaustion and fear at their feet. Torden tended my wounds and we rested a bit before deciding it would be folly to try recovering my effects. I had lost my sword and my purse, but escaped with my knowledge, my story, and my life- a fair exchange I must say.