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<blockquote data-quote="PHDungeon" data-source="post: 5003545" data-attributes="member: 86320"><p>Darren Androsax's (the fighter) second journal (regarding game session #2)</p><p></p><p>Dear Corvin,</p><p></p><p>I have made such progress, brother – you would be so proud! I am writing from a smaller town in the vale – a scrub of spring weed surrounded by marauding orc bands. But before I tell you about our heroism and adventure – let me describe two deeply intriguing family connexions.</p><p></p><p>I may have mentioned the religious scrolls we found in the orc-infested abandoned monastery. They had woodcuts by the artist Albrecht Dix – one of them depicting a man in a tabard of Rao, sword in hand and battling ogres. None other than a Saint Aurielus Androsax! Could this be our great, great grandfather? I knew that our family took on the Nerathi faith after the war – but I had no idea how deep our reverence for the sun god truly ran. </p><p></p><p>A second connexion I am much less conflicted about. We made our way northwest in pursuit of the devil-tainted Flagg, whose feats of strength and savagery grow worse with each tale we hear. On our journey we met a local lord named Ragnar. He had a short-sword at his belt bearing our family crest – the man, full seven feet of Skanzi warrior, had won it in a drinking contest from a local explorer and hero named Sigurd Ironballs – said to hold up in Hammerfast when he isn’t exploring ruins in the vale. With a little of the Androsax courage (three pints of it, by then) I challenged him to a competition for the sword, and he agreed. We locked arms, and I would have lost but for some ill that spread across the lord’s face– but my determination to live up to our great ancestors prevailed – and now the sword is mine! I mean ours!</p><p></p><p>While pursuing Flagg, we came across frightened refugees, a battle field of Orc corpses (from the Bleeding Skulls tribe, I suspect) and some farmsteads under attack. We fought the flea-bitten savages and were victorious yet again- but were too late to save some stubborn stay-behinds and the Rao priest and templar sent to protect them. Have you heard of the Sun Templars? A southern order of Rao, its men wielding curved, jewelled swords and great, piercing devotion. </p><p></p><p>Corvin, do you even wonder if the Androsaxes were meant to be followers of Rao? I wonder sometimes if the light of the sun is calling to me. Of course, Bjorn and Torfinn are living proof that the old gods are worth following. But no matter, we gained access to the village of Winterhaven and helped prepare it for an even greater orc onslaught. At each turn, I made sure Deryl was utterly safe before engaging with our foes. Our little sister was well-behaved as always, and I think our companions are becoming rather protective of her. Bella had taken her for an afternoon to the local forge, and even Torfinn, who I realize now is above worldly desires, seems to tolerate her hanging company and sighing admirations.</p><p></p><p>In the night, the orcs came fierce and from many directions – but we fought them back like Trimenous at the Three Gates during the first tide of the Bloodspear War. I think Bella felled three score of them before they even reached the gate. If that woman pursued seduction the way she pursues killing, no men would be left standing in all the Northlands. Bjorn and I hoisted a ladder full of the grey brutes, and Deryl managed to assist Torfinn as he blasted them with arcs channelled from the thunder god himself. It was glorious. The dawn broke through the horde and I understood something of our legacy. I was made for this. Though it hurt us greatly to leave Grimsburg, and you in the smoking aftermath ... I did not regret it this day. This day we did good, by laying evil unto the orcish infidel.</p><p></p><p>Your brother Derren</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="PHDungeon, post: 5003545, member: 86320"] Darren Androsax's (the fighter) second journal (regarding game session #2) Dear Corvin, I have made such progress, brother – you would be so proud! I am writing from a smaller town in the vale – a scrub of spring weed surrounded by marauding orc bands. But before I tell you about our heroism and adventure – let me describe two deeply intriguing family connexions. I may have mentioned the religious scrolls we found in the orc-infested abandoned monastery. They had woodcuts by the artist Albrecht Dix – one of them depicting a man in a tabard of Rao, sword in hand and battling ogres. None other than a Saint Aurielus Androsax! Could this be our great, great grandfather? I knew that our family took on the Nerathi faith after the war – but I had no idea how deep our reverence for the sun god truly ran. A second connexion I am much less conflicted about. We made our way northwest in pursuit of the devil-tainted Flagg, whose feats of strength and savagery grow worse with each tale we hear. On our journey we met a local lord named Ragnar. He had a short-sword at his belt bearing our family crest – the man, full seven feet of Skanzi warrior, had won it in a drinking contest from a local explorer and hero named Sigurd Ironballs – said to hold up in Hammerfast when he isn’t exploring ruins in the vale. With a little of the Androsax courage (three pints of it, by then) I challenged him to a competition for the sword, and he agreed. We locked arms, and I would have lost but for some ill that spread across the lord’s face– but my determination to live up to our great ancestors prevailed – and now the sword is mine! I mean ours! While pursuing Flagg, we came across frightened refugees, a battle field of Orc corpses (from the Bleeding Skulls tribe, I suspect) and some farmsteads under attack. We fought the flea-bitten savages and were victorious yet again- but were too late to save some stubborn stay-behinds and the Rao priest and templar sent to protect them. Have you heard of the Sun Templars? A southern order of Rao, its men wielding curved, jewelled swords and great, piercing devotion. Corvin, do you even wonder if the Androsaxes were meant to be followers of Rao? I wonder sometimes if the light of the sun is calling to me. Of course, Bjorn and Torfinn are living proof that the old gods are worth following. But no matter, we gained access to the village of Winterhaven and helped prepare it for an even greater orc onslaught. At each turn, I made sure Deryl was utterly safe before engaging with our foes. Our little sister was well-behaved as always, and I think our companions are becoming rather protective of her. Bella had taken her for an afternoon to the local forge, and even Torfinn, who I realize now is above worldly desires, seems to tolerate her hanging company and sighing admirations. In the night, the orcs came fierce and from many directions – but we fought them back like Trimenous at the Three Gates during the first tide of the Bloodspear War. I think Bella felled three score of them before they even reached the gate. If that woman pursued seduction the way she pursues killing, no men would be left standing in all the Northlands. Bjorn and I hoisted a ladder full of the grey brutes, and Deryl managed to assist Torfinn as he blasted them with arcs channelled from the thunder god himself. It was glorious. The dawn broke through the horde and I understood something of our legacy. I was made for this. Though it hurt us greatly to leave Grimsburg, and you in the smoking aftermath ... I did not regret it this day. This day we did good, by laying evil unto the orcish infidel. Your brother Derren [/QUOTE]
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