6th of Hammer, year 152.

Having returned to my home of Sanctuary after what came to be an almost six month long trek into the bleak North, I shall now try to catalogue my experiences here on these pages. May Torm grant me the wisdom and grace to be the faithful chronicler of the happenings that took place in the caverns beyond the comfort of hearth and home. May my hand not tremble as I start to relive the past and revive the feelings of uneasiness that oppressed my heart as we exited the battlements.

Three we were, faithful of the Loyal Fury, three we were that set out from Sanctuary and three we were that wished to explore the northern trail around the Dark Lake. Manion, our paragon of virtue, Deseld, tracker and stoutest of hearts and myself, a humble warrior of Torm's grace. We had talked to the Helmites before our departure, and they told us to abandon our mission, calling it folly to leave the protection of the well-guarded bastion with but a handful of men. Looking back on it now, they were right to tell us so, but we fancied ourselves crusaders of the True Deity and thought us capable of dealing with any problems we might have to face. And so, we embarked on our perilous journey.

The first day went by in cheerful fellowship, only interrupted by a few goblin bandits and a cluster of blood-thirsty bats. Our light-sources served us well. But already on the second day of our journey, we found ourselves in a tight spot as a blackish-red feline beast attacked us from the shadows. This ravenous creature was truly fearsome, attacking us tirelessly even as we impaled it’s bestial form again and again. Finally, we managed to slay it, Torm be praised, but it had wounded all of us, me worst of all. Even our prayers did not fully mend my busted leg, and our continued progress was slow. We came to a ravine and started to search for a place we could cross without endangering ourselves more than absolutely necessary. Manion had always been good at telling time, but somewhere between the third and the fourth day, we lost track of time. We had all tried this before, however, and were not immediately alarmed, albeit the inconvenience was notable. So, sometime between the third and the fourth day we crossed the ravine, using rope, and narrowly dodging the rush of a big funnel-web spider. This was most unsettling I have to admit, since I could only cross the ravine very slowly. But thankfully, we made it. Now we were well beyond charted territory and my leg was still causing us to make only very slow progress.

Thus was the start of our trek and we had no idea of what lay ahead. ______

And now; my heart is warmed by returning to our peaceful haven. What luxury to be able to wear my finery again. I so have missed strolling the streets of my Upper Sanctuary, open spaces teeming with hopeful souls and corners occupied by merchants with gold rings on their fingers. Maidens carrying water, Adventurers preparing to depart on a mission and stern Watchmen on patrol. Welcome home...