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.
Haunted. Abandoned. Snowblighted. Of course.
We made it to my new castle in this wasted frozen land. Weather and disuse makes this place feel dead cold; the walking corpses don’t dispel the notion.
What a wyrd place; not just the Barrow Tower and Starless Tower, not just the giant Phase Spider haunting the grounds, not just old Grim, a serving woman who works and slaves away taking care of an empty keep but has not an ounce of respect on her tongue for her new lord, not just the ghosts of living people still lurking about here and there – but the effect it has on Iz and Lethe. Suddenly the two of them are adverse to putting those that deserve to be dead in their place? Has Grind the old Castellan bewitched them somehow? What is this?
I will lay my trap for him, and once I show them Grind’s skeleton in the tower I will either make them face the truth or leave them and this cursed deal behind me and head back to the road.
***
Time has passed since I wrote that. No skeleton. Grind isn’t dead, maybe he never was. Was I wrong? Was he never a dead man? Was Lord Fergus truly alive, even after all this time, as I slit his throat? Damned the wyrd. But by sword-trade or knife’s point, Wyvern Point is mine. That is all that matters.
Read More of Raven’s Confessions Here.
Read Judd’s Game Write-Up Here.
