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The Black Steel

Evonne's Trollshaws diary: Days 15-17

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

Days 15-17

Evonne's Trollshaws diary: Days 11-14

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

Days 11-14

I have little news to share.

Evonne's Trollshaws diary: Days 8-10

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

Days 8-10

These days have not been easy.

To Battle!

What type of content is this?: 
Screenshot: General screen

Remaric engages a formidable Uruk within the wilds of Mirkwood.

Evonne's Trollshaws diary: Day 7

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

Day 7

A long and curious day.

Evonne's Trollshaws diary: Day 6

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

Day 6

It gives me no pleasure to recount the events of the past day. We have lost our chief.

Evonne's Trollshaws diary: Days 4-5

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

Days 4 & 5

There is so much I could say... my heart is bursting with mixed feelings. But this is not the place for all my personal thoughts. I must make some attempt to show a little discipline in my record-keeping!

Evonne's Trollshaws diary: Day 3

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

Day 3

Trapped underground, and with the Dead pounding on the doors, we set out into the reeking darkness below Ost Chall, while Fiontann and Alcott remained behind alone to prevent them breaking through.

Words on a parchment #2

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

It started again. They have ben pounding the door for the better part of an hour now. I almost believed that they gave up and left. But, that's not the case. The others are all awake now. I hope that they have gotten enough rest, this won't be easy, especially in the dark and the stench cannot be used to. It's horrible. At least it's quiet down there. Maybe for once we'll be lucky and we won't have to fight our way through a tomb.

The Brigand and the Scribe: Part III

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Later that evening, Tiverton found himself in a rather humiliating position. More specifically, wrapped within a sack and carried rather clumsily by Tutt through the camp. Nobody paid much attention to them, as if they had, they would have certainly noticed something different about Tutt’s appearance let alone the hobbit-sized sack that he carried. How he allowed himself to be roped into such an affair was beyond him, however here he was, smuggled in sack which smelled vaguely like onions and damp.

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