Scales of War

Rutilius Log3 pg2

I have died here too many times to ever feel comfortable in the Shadowfell. This place always has the most repugnant odor. It’s not like the underdark which smells like death’s foot funk. It’s more like this place is mint tea sweetened with manure. It’s just close enough to something nice that you can never really stop smelling it. Of course the lack of latrine facilities in this camp give something else to dwell on.

It really doesn’t help that I still feel lost here. We’re chasing after Modra, who is bad, but has apparently ticked off Sarshan who is even worse. While Modra is apparently responsible for arming everyone in the vale, he did it out of Sarshan’s surplus. That’s saying something for the size of his war chest. And Sarshan didn’t want to get involved not because he liked the vale (and puppies), but because he didn’t think he could wring enough money out of it to justify the resources required.

I’d be for running back to the vale in a heartbeat if I thought we had enough information to allow for some form of defense. I’m going to go by the dark forge and see if I can gleen anything useful.

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