I, Raven, of clear mind and soul, hereby put down my full confession should I perish on the road, in my bed, or more likely, in some dank sewer somewhere. I have done nothing wrong. Here are my words.
Sent word to Iz. A few days later, she comes tramping in telling me she had plans for the prize the whole time. Her plans fizzled so I’m still in the right.
Weather is bad. Weather might always be bad up North, not sure. Hope I didn’t trade one curse for another.
A wight came for us in the night, and our guide Magni, Lethe, and Iz decide to face it in the woods alone. We trap it, then grill it in more ways than one. The thing had strange ideas on whose sword this was in the first place, but I’ve got rights and we put the entire thing to bed.
Now to rest and not die. Sent Lethe with thanks to the old gods, might as well hedge my bets. Iz is still pissy, but what else is new?
Magni is a good one to have in a spot.
Read More of Raven’s Confessions Here.
Read Judd’s Game Write-Up Here.
