*Rollo sits down at Tornbeard Hall and decides to write down the jumbled chaos of thoughts whirling about in his head*

"Bout time I start recording my works for the Mother and her blessings as she reveals them to me."

*Rollo sits at the table near the storage room in Tornbeard Hall, dabs pen to well, and with neat simple strokes begins his Journal*

I never thought I'd say such as this, but I finally learned the name of a Duergar tigereye that had been chilling my soul every time I saw him about town.

The best Duergar was a dead Duergar, I always had thought. My kidnapping by the foul grays and their sale of me to the evil dark elves has tarnished my soul forever, or so I'd thought. I was just an acolyte, and to this day I awake in a cold sweat after dreaming of their cruel visages and mocking laughter as they clamped me in chains and sent me to the Slaver's Block in Traensyr - the Drow City.

*Rollo stops and mutters to himself......"Back to me tale...can't be letting me mind wander."

Seeker Mzibi gathered an odd group of sorts to look for some maps down in the Sewers. The foolish cleric in red plate, named Skret was one of them, and I nearly left the group to avoid his rothe shit, but I couldn't leave good Meriam with such dark company.

I bought some supplies in town, then when I returned - a Duergar by name of Mordur Onyxadze was there. He had joined the group. Anger seethed in my veins, and I wanted to wipe his very existance from the Material Plane when I saw him, but I knew I could not back out on my promise to help the Seeker. So I stayed with this lot.

Gradually on the mission, I mustered the steel to talk to his foul person. I found that he was an exile, and appeared not to share the overwhelming hatred for our kind that I'd expected. In fact, during our adventure into the bowels of the sewers and tunnels underneath town, I found him to be a stalwart warrior. Many Chosen were lurking there, and he and another warrior by name of Gerd handled them quite well, and I needed to heal their scant wounds only ocaissionaly.

I saw many strange places, and we slew many of this vicious rat-men, and drew near the end of our adventure....

But we became separated, trapped, and I had to run back through these foul beasts' lair invisible, with the help of a potion from the Seeker. Somehow, it's magic was dispelled and I found myself fleeing alone from many Chosen that suddenly saw me and gave chase with evil intent.

Then, just beside the exit, I was knocked unconscious by their concerted attacks. The good warrior Gerd heard my cries for help as I went down, as he was fortunately standing just by the door.

He cast a healing using an item he had, and fended off several Chosen while I staggered out of their lair. The gray Mordur stood there like stone, but then surprised me by applying herbs to my wounds.

Then, he and Gerd went in and slew the evil were-creatures and retrived my gear, some of which included divine items created in service to the Revered Mother.

This surprised me, and has now lead me to believe that perhaps not all Duergar, or even dark Drow are all of evil intent. A thought I must admit that hadn't entered my views of this world. I thanked each, and for a minute Mordur was almost as a shield brother of the Clan, until I realized who he was and laughed at my prejudices that I had borne earlier that evening.

I thank Berronar for granting me the wisdom to recognize such a thing, and hope that it helps me to be a better Cititzen, Stout, Clansman and Faenor this moment on.

ROLLO

*Rollo comes back to Tornbeard Hall after the devastating discovery of the deaths of his friends and Clan Elders... and the fruitless search afterwards for their bodies.*

*Sadly he looks at the names of the Stoutheart Clan on the wall in and the small pick that Gimball had used to etch them in small, neat rows....and with a deep sigh sat down at the table and began to write a letter*

Kin and Clan,

It is with a heavy heart that I must report the valiant deaths of two of the best of us:

Akevitt Anvilsmasher - Hammer of Moradin He was the ideal of all good and noble Stouts. His strong arm matched with his equally strong mind, wit and leadership was known and respected by those pure of heart....and feared by those that were not. Moradin gained a mighty crusader to his cause when Akevitt's soul left his mortal shell.

Gimball Harrenhock - A founder of Clan Stoutheart and one of the best known and loved by those of all peoples. Good Gim was quick to offer a hearty chuckle, share his pipe and ale with a friend, or roar in defiance at a band of trolls as he hewed them like firewood. He'll light up the Hall of the Silverbeard with his joyful Stoutish soul, and he'll be sorely missed.

The two were slain in the valiant defense of the Towne of Sanctuary from the invasion of spiders sent by the foul druid known as Breen. He and his kinsman Gimball stood back to back and the remains of the vicious spiders that they slew piled high around them. But the swarm of unnatural beasts proved too much, and both slowly succumbed to the numerous terrible wounds they received, and finally to the powerful poisons coursing to their mighty hearts.

Clan Stoutheart and Sanctuary have lost two that stood bravely against the darkness, and held firm when others ran for their very lives.

But to those of us that knew, and even loved them as brothers as did we me kinsman, we must remember their valiant sacrifice and rejoice as their good Stout souls have been sped along to rest with thieir lords Moradin and Clangeddin.

We all should cherish their memories and try to be true to the Clan and the Mordinsammen by not grieving for their loss overmuch, but instead in rejoicing that they lived and died with honor and glory for themselves, the Clan, and all of the Father and Mother's Stout children.

And kin, if ye could help me, we MUST find their bodies and effects so as to honor them with a proper Stout burial.

ROLLO

*rollo pulls out his journal...the shock of the loss of his kin and clansman has finally settled in hard....the first six ales didn't numb the pain much....so he resorted to prayer to the Mother of Safety, Berronar Truesilver*

Forgive me Mother, I dinna protect me boon kin and Fellow Elders. I've failed them, failed the Clan, and failed ye me sweet goddess, Protector of the Kin....

*a few tears roll out of Rollo's brown eyes and across his rounded cheeks.........he prays for a long time without response....as if his beloved Mother is displeased....he continues unduanted, as unmoving as the granite walls of Tornbeard Hall*

After many hours kneeling in full armor, he says in a small voice, "I'm sorry....so sorry....what can I do?"

*Rollo stands up and his wand of healing somehow falls from his securely fastened pack.*

Aye, what's this then? How did that fall out?...I thou....

*Rollo stops suddenly, stares at the wand for a long while, and manages a small smile when he realizes that his prayer for forgiveness has been answered.*

I've much to do. I'll heed yer call Berronar. There is much pain and suffering to tend to.