So I woke up in the hallway of the tavern. That was fun. My back is aching from sleeping on the damned floor but whatever at least none of my stuff was stolen.
The morons exchanged some information with the Half-Orc. I served with many Half-Orcs before but I never seen one who can hold his grog like this one can. I don't remember his name.. I'll have to ask him when we return with the Half-Elf Ambassador who's dumb enough to get lost or kidnapped out here.
We left for the marshes and fought some Zombies. It wasn't the first time I met them and my Axe cleaved one right in half, starting from the head and making its way down the spine. It was like peeling cheese off a knife. It was glorious! The Gods of Battle will be pleased. This Druid guy, he's proving himself in battle. While frail and brittle, he changed into a bear and mauled a few of them. Almost kept up to me in battle. Almost. The others are weak, throwing little punches and dashing in with brittle rapiers like its going to do anything. A real dwarf uses an axe. It cleaves, it chops, it eviscerates. None of this stabbing shit.
We reached the a shrine of some sort in a graveyard. The others were to shitting their pants and staying at the edge. Damned pussies, all of them. There was no signs of any enemies. Just go in and deal with shit if there's shit to be dealt with. Unfortunately, it was abandoned so we opted to rest, the bard strumming away on his lute or lyre or whatever fey instrument he stuck up his ass to carry.
No sign of the Half-Elf.