With the gold from selling my brace of rusty swords and daggers I headed to the Dry Flagon tavern to celebrate my good fortune and the fact I was still alive. This lead to much merriment that went on into the wee hours of the night.

When it was time to return home, I realized that I had left my domicile on the other side of the realm. Looking for a bed, I set off down the path. Trying to navigate the streets at that late hour proved to be difficult. I overshot the mark by an entire town, stumbled into a ferry and was whisked off to Storm’s Reach before I could explain my intended destination.

Taking my coins, the ferryman tossed me ashore and sailed away on the strong breeze. Undaunted, I set a course for the heart of town, expecting I could find a room for the night or at least another tavern.

The first step was my undoing since I was not truly on the path to town, but rather, on the precipice to a cliff. I took many tumbles, broke several branches, and came to rest next to a malcontent miner named Grigor.

He looked at me sternly, and when I asked for directions to the Inn, he said I was a man who get things done and if I was up for a special mission. He explained the elves were working in the mine, extending it to Longfall and that people who went into the mine were never seen again.

“That’s just poor mine spelunking prowess!” I said. “But look here, I like those elves. They are a good sort. Sure, the ears a bit unsettling, but it’s nothing raise a fuss about.”

He dismissed my slurred diatribe and said he was looking for information in the mines to help with the cause. He was looking for papers about the elves and their plans to attack humans.

From my dealing with Alberic, I knew the elves didn’t partake in this sort of mischief and certainly weren’t hatching some sort of hostile plot. Clearly, they’re not capable of planning a bank heist.

I said I would traverse the mine, just to prove him wrong. And if I happened to grab a few gold ore, those were mine to keep.

I may have been in the cups and not thinking as clearly as I should, but it felt rather contradictory to defend myself against elves when I was trying to prove they were a peaceful people.

I tried to explain this dichotomy to the first Elf I met, but only received and arrow in the sternum and buttocks for the effort. I had no choice but to defend myself and so the elves had to suffer a solid thrashing. I took no comfort in the fact and pressed ever deeper into the cavern.

It then struck me that I had no idea what I was looking for. Was I supposed to locate some wise sage with pearls of wisdom to bestow, preferably in written form? Was I to meet with some grand counsel where I was to be their mouthpiece to help them steer a course of peace and tranquility between the humans and elves?

These sounded quite fabulous, but were never meant to be. The best I was able to discover was a meeting hall with “war room” etched on a rotting piece of wood. My presence came as a surprise to all in attendance and in their panic, they rushed out of the room, knocking me into a frigid pool of cave water. Water in these metal leggings is nigh impossible to remove!

In their haste, they left behind an usual letter outlining they had no wish for war and wished to enjoy peaceful lives within the realm. Despite the less than cordial welcome I had received thus far, I was inclined to believe them and took up the paper as proof of their benign intentions.

Sadly, those blocking my retreat had not read said treatise, and proceeded to make attempts to stab me in the back, set me alight with flaming arrows, cause grievous injury to my knees and throw me down an abandoned shaft. I took these to be the more south side and thus aggressive elves. But, I held true to the spirit of the letter I was now holding and headed back to meet Grigor. This should make him relived that it’s been a misunderstanding and the elves were just trying to keep people from falling down a unmarked shaft.

I believe I dashed his hopes and aspirations. He looked at my note with disgust and threw down some cloth armor in abject frustration.

“What might you have there?” I asked.

“A stupid chest piece I was going to wear as we charged against the elves. But, you’ve ruined all that. Take it, I don’t want it anymore! Plus it’s cloth. Anyone who wears that is just asking for certain and painful death.”

With that, he stormed off and began to sulk under a tree.

Seizing the opportunity, I tucked the handsome armor into my bag of holding and decided I would explore the mine further. Amidst his expletives and outrageous claims, Grigor said the mine actually connected to Longfall. I’ve never been there and there might be some extra gold left in the mine. Plus, since I never travel without my bedroll, I might be able to find a quiet corner in the mine and catch a few hours of undisturbed slumber.


I have just taken a rather nasty tumble down the hill, so I’m not entire sure if I’m seeing things clearly, but “Good Evening to you” if you aren’t a figment of my imagination or delusions brought on by head trauma.


This is their nefarious war room? Not to be critical, but it could use a few more ferocious weapons and maybe the body of a defeated combatant thrown hither and yon to give it a sense of foreboding.

Oh look, a secret message left on the table.

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

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