Mouse - We spent the evening dining with our Wog host, Randa. What passed for food here could be found in any dumpster in Eldred's Cross. The grit of sand penetrated everything here, Including the food. It would take me hours to clean my pics and tools. And I'm sure I will discard much of what I'm wearing once we return. Sand seems to cling to and pocket of moisture and I'm pretty sure I have a reach in places I don't want to look.

Over the sound of the wind outside a crashing sound captured the attention of our host. The look on his face told the story. Something bad was happening outside. Enzo was the first out the door. The darkness and windblown sand reduced visibility. When I managed to get outside for a better look I wished I hadn't. A massive worm with a head made of teeth an little else was crushing Wog huts as it entered the village. The screams of the occupants was testimony to the destruction it rot.

Enzo and Celeste moved passed the barn where Cypress Long and the guards were staying. They had heard the sound as well and were flooding out of the barn to get a look. Celeste called the troops to form up behind her. Ignoring the wise council of Enzo who was shouting for everyone to stay clear of the beast. The wind was so stron that I watch most of Silverhawk's arrows carried away by the wind before string the creature. The creature was enormous, it's toothy maw raised thirty feet in the air, was poised to strike. Crashing through another structure it closed the distance and hurled itself into the crowd of soldiers and Celeste. One unfortunate soul found himself in its maout and disappeared screaming into its belly. Calais fired a mass of arrows into the creature and despite the wind managed to harm the beast. It screamed in a high pitch whine seemingly more agitated than before. Enzo followed blowing his icy breath onto the worm, followed by another unearthly scream. If I never hear that sound again I'll count myself a blessed soul. Casper sent streaking from his fingertips into it further scorching its flesh. It was Celeste standing just below the retched creature who would serve it death. With her slender swords she opened broad wounds on after another until the muscle wall of the creature collapsed. Even in death the creature was not without destructive power. The mass supporting the raised head crashed down on a Wog house killing the occupants.
Randa and Celeste directed recovery efforts for the villagers as Calais saw to the disposition of the prisoner. Though there was a great deal of chaos in the barn during the fight, nothing of consequence happened there. After a while we settled in for a relaxing night. Randa assured us nothing would threaten the village tonight. The wyrm would keep the trolls away for a couple days.

As day broke I found myself in a bit of a panic. I had stashed a pouch of puchino beans in my pack for emergencies. This morning was just such an occasion. Last night my stomach had been giving me trouble. During the night my sleep was interrupted by numerous trips outside. I donated more than my share of dinner to the sand and rocks outside the pathetic barn we were staying in. Now my lost sleep and my missing remedy were conspiring against me. Eventually I turned my pack inside out and the damnable puchino pouch finally fell out of the dark fold it had been hiding in. I knelt down to collect the scattered items and reassert a hold on my frazzled nerves when I was greeted with a view of Silverhawk nestled against Calais in slumber. She and Celeste vexed me in a ways that were difficult to ignore. I have kept company with attractive women in my time, but these two were unusual. I allowed myself a moments pause while I took in the view. Then busied myself with the task of repacking my bag.

We would be leaving soon. The sky was showing signs of the creeping blue of daylight. Though we were traveling with and armed escort I would need my edge today. Irontrees Prison was todays destination. How odd to be intentionally going to the one place I swore never to set foot in. When I first arrived in Eldred's Cross the name "Irontrees" was thrown around by members of the Facci as a kind of substitute for Hell. It was clear from the first utterance that this was a hell for the living. The first time I heard the name I was working a job with my Capo near the auction house. A careless merchant rolled his cartload of goods across the Capo's foot. "Irontrees take you! you're not good enough for buzzard food."

We topped off our water skins and journeyed westward into the stark dry wastes. Once again the only distraction from the heat and dryness was Crux's ramblings. Near the early part of the afternoon we reached a signpost. The road continued to Notrenoc or diverged to Irontree Estate. Ignoring the untraveled road to the ruins we turned south to Irontrees.

We were alone out here. Very alone. Eventually we started seeing gibbets. At first they were sporadic. As we neared the prison they became more numerous.

Near the end of the day we saw what could only be Irontrees prison. A wind weathered keep of sorts had been tacked onto the original structure. Old and new alike suffered from exposure to the elements. It occurred to me that my new status a deputy marshall is a good and meaningful to one who is more likely to break the law than enforce it, but as I looked at the prison that plays host to the worst humanity has to offer I couldn't help rethink my earlier choice.

We were admitted inside the prison after an unceremonious greeting by the prison guards. Guards, mind you, that look more like inmates than enforcers of the will of our sanctimonious emperor. The piss-ant they sent to greet us look like he at least had access to a bath and a barber. It wasn't until we met the real power around here that I say just how little spine a human could have and sill manage to remain erect.

Lord Spade, the prison warden and descendant of the planation owners managed to summon enough personality as to warrant superficial conversation. While we were guest of the warden we managed to get well fed and bathed. A creepy little golem of a man took care of our basic needs. His status as a privileged prisoner did little to set my mind at ease that night knowing he was skulking about.

The next day we departed after a brief informal breakfast. Sand and grit quickly found its way into uncomfortable places, erasing the bath from the night before.

I was looking forward to getting back to Eldred's Cross and putting this mission behind us. Strangely enough I kind of missed the comments coming from Cypress. They were at least a break from the desolate scenery.

Late in the day we encountered a sandstorm. This one was bent on scrubbing flesh from the bone. Fortunately we were close to Eastern Wog. It required significant effort to move man and beast through the storm. I swear I could see something moving at the edge of our vision out in the sand storm, but I could never lock in on it. My eyes would water and sting after even a moment of scanning. The process of settling into the town wore us all down. We collapsed into the barn.

We awoke to a dream. Around us it was still night, but all else was different. A humid breeze and the sound of grasses combed by the wind were the first clues we had awakened to something new. The moonlit sky outside showed us we were in a village surrounded by orchards. In the near distance a tall tower shown its light out on the walkways of the village.