The winds of fortune were not at our backs this day. We just lost Candy. (Editor's note: She was obnoxious as hell, but she was Randy's sister - whom those of us who knew him miss dearly).
A legion of undead lay at our feet and a necromancer was brought down by many arrows. If only Pint had not been forced to stay behind due to work on his armor delaying his departure.
The accompanying men are of no use. Worthless and Weak. They refuse to engage any enemy and worse, my elfy senses are going "twicha twicha twitcha twitch" whenever I look at this lackluster group which usually means that someone is going to try and kill us soon. I expect that we should not turn our backs on these scoundrels. The others seem to feel the same way.
Following the cleanup after our battle with the undead, Myra and I snuck towards the pit that I had spied earlier behind a woodpile (as part of a scouting/surveillance effort). As we peered over the edge something struck me.
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