Dragon Age: Rise of the Runelords

An ill wind (Bral / DM)

With the final death of the mummified black monk the abandoned valley took on an eerie silence. Setting out to our camp ground we found Whisky a hundred yards from our camps corralling some very emaciated horses. Our camp had been found by giants but not before Whisky relocated the pack animals. The journey back down to the storval steps and yet another abandoned city was slow and uneasy work. Garret could, and often did, swear that there was something high up in the mountains following us, but no one else could gain sight of it.
As we moved along the Ravenmoor and into the seldom used paths along the border of the Sanos Forest a fierce storm broke from the mountains and washed over us, dogging us for five days. When we reached a small fishing town they were afraid to brave the waters of Claybottom lake, but needed the coin badly enough to risk both the storm and the beast. The storm was relentless but we made it turtleback cold, soaked, and weary but alive. With news of problems at the fort, Bral headed off to sort out Rennick while the rest of the party continued on to Magnimar.
Our return to the city was more gracious than our departure; word had traveled of our deeds and we were hailed as heroes, the Grew Wardens were restored and commissioned as honorary offices of the city, entitled to go where we please. What’s more the chapter house had recruits again and the Lord Mayor was anxious to see and be seen with us.

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richarddonaldson rapieranddagger

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