Karl's Stromdorf Journal

Arryved in the towne off Stromdorf in stynking wether. Wackim Joachimm takin ill and complayns dredfuly. Synce he is to ill to wryte allso and I do doubte that Boris can wryte a propper ackount, I haffe takin up the pen.

Littel to saye regardinn the first nite. Boris wreck’d the coach, wych shoud be no surpryse to one who nose him. Good ale to be had at the coach in. I play’d a gam off cardes with a drunke forainer with a good sworde, needlis to saye I won. I may seeke him owte agin in fewture as he seem’d a man who nose how to handul a blayde and may be wilin to pars on sum trycs.

On the morn we visyted the markette and, with owte Joachimm natterin awaye (altho charmin, he has the gyft of the gabbe as my mum wud saye, the man nevar shuttes up), I was abul to pars miself as a credytor off the myssing man. Thys was fortewitus and led us acrosse ‘towne to the hostelrie were we din’d on a fyne spred. The jolly halflin ownar thin putte us onto the towne gardes, who had spottid a farmer leafin towne with the myssing mans hors. In hot persewte we lift towne to kwestyun thim.

Sadly the farme had bin burn’d to the grownd by beestmin, as Viktor (blesse and curs him, you will se why layter in mi ackount) determin’d. I tuk the leade in kwestyunin the nearbiy farmers with sum heftey if menacin asistans from Boris and Viktor. Having a keyne nos for a conn I was abul to trycke the hedman into showin his hande, and his wyf came cleane. They haffe bin sacrifycin pepul and anymuls to the beestmin! The jolly halflin was in on itte to! Shaymfulli they offer’d to tak us to sumone who coud helpe putte thyngs ryte.

Wat the craz’d farmstris faled to menshun was that she was takin us to meet a beestmun! He seem’d a more sensybul sort tho and from him I gather’d that sum othar is the cors of the trubble. Sadly be-fore we coud learne morre Viktor panick’d and loost severul arrowes that endid the meetin. The beestmun calt on fowle magycke, cryatin vines to holde us wile he escaypd. Now we muste ventuer into the beestmins bogge to steel a “lyghtning stone”, watevar that may be, or no doupte all Stromdorf will be engullff’d in the flaymes of warre.

Karl's Stromdorf Journal

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