Jumping out of a tree at humans and a troll – not the brightest idea. Still – managed to come out a head and get the things needed off of my former party. Poor bastards. The dead don’t need tools.
For that matter – neither does the living. Silly troll – take the hat. Poor troll. I wonder where he disappeared to.
I found us work – and instead of going ruins diving in the desert to the south – we aim for the Mournlands, and decide to go save some Silver Flameists. Take the lightning rail north then west and then through the fog and to the most heinous place I have ever visited. The rail is moved in various directions – the whole city is completely rearranged and destroyed.
So we follow the rail around, aim for the palace, then cut across into town. Come upon some elf dressed in ragged Valenar clothes. He brought us to his seer who showed us… things.
“Death walks the streets of Metrol. Death leads to death, all stemming from the theft of her pride. You must crown the crying son. The portal is dark. The portal is locked. Pierce the darkness, unlock the gate, and you shall fly free of the bonds of time.”
Now to figure out what it means…