After a day's ride, we made camp. I tried to goad Alex into recounting some old war stories, but he was fairly tight-lipped. Our campfire serenity didn't last long, however. An Imperial riding party stumbled upon us, led by a beardless dwarf who introduced himself as Morgrym. He was accompanied by a halfling, another dwarf, and an elf named Watcher. They had evidently made camp nearby, and Morgrym had come down to make sure we weren't going to cause trouble.

Alex flashed his badge, and filled the dwarf in on our mission. Morgrym didn't seem to care much, and he bid us good night.

The next morning, we awoke to the sounds of an irate beardless dwarf. Something was off though; the sound was coming from above. We geared up, and crept tentatively into the camp. What we found was the sight of a slaughter. Samson, the halfling, lay dead. One of the horses was missing, and the rest had been cleanly slaughtered. Even the elf, Watcher, was slumped lifeless against a tree. Above us, his foot caught in a snare trap, was Morgrym. He was dripping blood, and had evidently been left for dead.

We helped him down, and patched him up. Apparently his Dwarven companion had tried to escape in the night, but Watcher had caught him. Strife broke out, and the dwarf had made his escape. Morgrym had been careless enough to get caught in the snare trap that Watcher had set the night before, and that was in essence the only reason he survived.

Alex told us that he was afraid of this; the rebel forces had spies everywhere. That dwarf was almost certainly on his way to Rosetown to warn the weapon thieves of our pursuit. We would need to stop him. Immediately, we broke camp and made haste to apprehend him.

In the end, we did catch up, and managed to take him down. Morgrym dealt the killing blow, after he told us that he would rather die than tell us anything about the resistance movement.

We made haste to Rosetown and bought a room for the night. Morgrym disappeared to talk to the local smith, who had crafted his axe. Alex and I spotted quite a few cloaked figured entering the local church, a divine chapel of Moradin. We followed suit, and tried to blend in with the crowd. Tactfully, we learned that the weapons shipment had been ferried inside a secret chamber in the chapel, and a rebel meeting was to be held tomorrow morning.

In the meantime, we had some snooping to do. We learned that a couple of the cloaked figures were staying in the same Inn as us. We picked the lock, and headed inside, ready for any trouble we might encounter.

Unfortunately, trouble did find us. Before we could find anything of note, the two that were sharing the room returned. As it turns out, it was a young blood-mage woman, and a tall, quiet elven man with a curved sword at his belt. Within moments, we were at their mercy.

Oddly enough, they didn't seem concerned by our presence. The woman cut my bandages, and noted my tattoos. She even had the gall to call it a gift. In the end, we were released with nothing more than a threat. With that, we called it a day.

The next morning, the three of us donned our black robes, and headed to the church. As advertised, we were led into an underground chamber, where the weapons shipment was laid out. The rebels were planning on smuggling it down to the frontier lands, for use against the empire in the more war torn territories.

Despite our attempts to hide, we were caught. All of us were ordered to draw back our hoods, and we had no way of hiding our faces. Morgrym had been caught as well, evidently. He was revealed, clad in chains before us.

The elf, named Carson, and the sorceress, told us they would give us another chance. We would be shipped south along with the weapons, and shown the destruction that the empire had wrought. When we inquired as to why our lives were being spared, a young man stepped forward. I saw Alex's eyes widen in shock and recognition. This was one of his comrades, a boy by the name of Davon, who had been reported MIA in Alex's early military days.

The boy, now a man, had recognized his old friend, and pleaded to give him a second chance. His wish was granted, and we were bound, gagged, and whisked away in a caravan. Morgrym was sent along with us.

-Matau Ing'um

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