Skirmish 3: (Five Klicks: Fantasy)
From the Journal of Sigrún Þórsdóttir, Third Skirmish.
The merchant that was supposed to bring iron to Havensdale was delayed, and so the blacksmith's forges went cold. Figuring it would be a good way to earn our keep, we set off to find the merchant in the marshes.
When we found the merchant, he was wailing and shouting for help. His horse had sickened to the point of delirium and his cart was mired in the mud, rich pickings for any beast or outlaw that might happen by. Only when we got in close did we realize what had sickened the horse. Magic, or more specifically, demonic seals laid upon the marsh itself, designed to poison anyone unfortunate enough to stumble over the horrific hex lines. By the time we realized this, however, we were in the midst of them ourselves, and very much in danger.
Fortunately, Fitztandalus was able to easily lead us all to safety. Working together and using a little healing magic, we helped the horse drag the cart out of the mud and get the merchant back to safer, firmer soil. As thanks, he gave us a bit of armor he'd been carrying around for a while, as well as a strange ring that he could tell was magical, though he could not tell what it might be good for.
Fortunately for us, Marzhin recognized it as a Ring of Dreams, kind of like a ring of wishing for wizards, but with strange quirks about what it could bring into existence. One wish was all it had left in it, but goodness, what a wish! The scroll that popped out was scribed with a powerful spell, one that seemed perfect for use by our Fitzandalus.
Back at Havensdale, we encountered another hero, one more than happy to join our Fellowship. Her name is Meltandis, and she seems quite competent with spell and sword.
The storms are starting to soften. The rain is still coming at night, but less so during the day. Soon, very soon, we will go hunting, and see what horrors haunt the nearby woods in the wake of the rain.