[In a labored scrawl.]
The 14th Sun of Mirtul, 1502 Dalereckoning
It was spelt clearly for us, the troubles that plagued Loudwater of late. Rumors of undead were substantiated, and in quite substantial number. Wights, walking corpses of dark purpose, origins of which we would later discover. A healthy band of them numbering near in a dozen, some raining arrows upon us and others had clearly took more to sword in their former lives. Perhaps more dreadful than the steel they dealt in was their ability to draw vitality from their prey. Most dreadful of all, we happened to be their prey.
In our number was Salviron, a wizard of elfish descent, who peppered the undead with magic. But most effective was his conjured armor that proved a stronger bite than the wights' steel. Slinging spells alongside, a sorcerer, and one of the aasimar among us, Astraelis. Among blessings, she'd also distributed vitality with a touch. A touch I feel would have struck lower than the small of my back and certainly not for lack of trying, but perhaps reach. It should be noted this is not a complaint.
Another, more familiar aasimar I'd met but once before. Artemyeva, a monk who struck in a storm of limbs more deadly than the sword she wielded besides. Adept not only in pummeling, but a dexterity that allowed her to outright avoid strikes that would otherwise find purchase. Stranger still from the pair of aasimar was what I assume to be some sort of small bear by the name of Chappo. But one that could change into a larger bear, a shifting granted by their druidic influence. In addition, they possessed the ability to summon creatures. Most notably a goose whose anger and might were uncanny to say in the least.
We cleared many of the undead from the streets of Loudwater, others had surely roamed for other unfortunate souls. Led by the cleric that tasked us with her escort, we arrived at the cemetery that needed to be dispelled of necromancy. We were met with a veiled woman that turned to be a revenant, scorned by her husband to be that abandoned her at the altar. She made it clear she had sent for the man she believed to still live in Loudwater, and reinforced her malignant anger with the rush of shadows that rose from the earth.
I will admit to some haze in my recollection of events, particularly leading up to the purging of the revenant spirit. I had succumbed to the shadows, drained of vitality until I fell, cold. I am aware that I was brought back thanks to the efforts of the very cleric that led us to that forsaken place to begin with. So I can't curse her name with full breath, and not only due to my weariness as I write. She had even done the kindness of collecting the spoils from the fallen wights, granting me a fairly unsullied and unsulliable set of armor. I could surely turn a good coin for it.
