A song of Ice and Dice

From the journal of Johanna Schwarz: 13. Vorhexen, 2498 Today was a long chain of horrors. The Sea of Claws has definitely lived up to its name, although the Sea of Fangs would be equally apt, as we learned. Lashed more or less continuously by foul weather, our ship neared the dreaded Norscan coast, when a foul manyheaded beast rose from the waters and nearly decimated both the ship’s crew and my team. Even though I have heard of monstrosities from the deep assailing ships, I am sure the attack was no coincidence, but vengeance for us rooting out the foul Stromfels cult in Wulfhafen. The dark powers do not take kindly to having their plans thwarted. We managed to fight the beast off, but not before it almost tore Eldur’s shoulder off. I rushed over to him and managed to staunch the torrent of blood with a healing elixir and a few hastily wrapped bandages. The look on Sunnivas face as she ran to her stricken brother shook me. It was as if a part of herself had been chopped off, and the ...

 Still high after the successful recovery of the second tablet, our victory feels short-lived once we see where the compass is now pointing...home. Across the sea, towards Bjorling. I dart a look at Eldur, who's unusually quiet, his face set in grim determination. We take stock. Three of our party are heavily wounded. We have water for a month, which is enough only in theory. We could wait for spring - braving the sea of claws in December is only for the foolhardy. On the other hand, braving it in spring when all the wreckers are just desperate to cave in the skulls of some southerlings is also foolhardy, so we'll be doing some foolish hardying no matter what.  We settle on going back to Wulfhafen to regroup, buy up some stock and other goodies. After an uneventful two days, we sail into port.  Wulfhafen Cold and damp if not wet (those sealskin clothes are worth their weight in thrones!), we open the door to The Deranged Lantern , a surprisingly cozy little inn in a not s...

 After our "death of a thousand cuts" victory against the undead, with Eldur playing such a pivotal role with his powerful fire magics (...), we decide to camp in the tomb itself. A far cry from the soft beds of Altdorf it may be, the alternative - sleeping on the goblin-infested and Shallyah knows what else - plains seemed even worse.  What a great plan! At least until brother dearest roughly shakes me awake, claiming he heard something outside. He is a bit of a scaredy pants in the dark (though I'd never say so to his face...too often), but apparently he's feeling bad things through his sight as well. I sneak towards the (only!) exit, and my heart nearly stops when I see a huge...thing moving towards us. It's as if the swamp itself has come alive, in all the worst ways. It slithers, staggers and gurgles its way forwards, clearly moving towards the tomb. I rush back inside and yell for everyone else to wake up RIGHT NOW, and we get ready for battle.  The beast is...