Year 781 of the founding of the City
2nd Day of Meloramensis
Fallcrest - The Lucky Gnome
Our journey to Fallcrest was made miserable as autumn gives way to winter and the weather begins its frozen assault on these northern lands. The rain continues to fall but now it delvers an icy shock to the skin that penetrates through to the very bone as cloaks and clothes become waterlogged. Bowstrings, weapons, armour and ammunition have all been stowed away in oil soaked cloth to keep the insidious water at bay. The roads have turned to sludge under the feet of hunched backed, hooded travellers as they make the cumbersome trudge to their destination. As each foot is hauled free of encapsulating suction of the mired road a fresh stench of waterlogged filth is released to the nostrils of our bowed heads.
The journey lasted for just under two days of sodden misery before Fallcrest appeared on the horizon. The first sign that we were nearing the town was the steady plume of smoke that constantly rises into the air above it, a symptom of the many fires that constantly burn in this part of the world as winter approaches. As we crested a small hill the ancient imperial towers that stud the old wall and adorn some of the more grand old buildings within the town came into view, as these lengthened over the falling horizon the myriad of squat buildings, topped with yellow thatch started to cluster around them. We marched over the old many-arched stone bridge that spans the river. Then through the dilapidated gates into what remains of a once magnificent Imperial city.
Immediately upon arrival we headed for the nearest Inn, an establishment by the name of The Lucky Gnome. Minron had his usual effect on the staff and clientele as he ducked to pass through the doorway. A mixture of dumbstruck silence followed, accompanied by urgent mumblings and then finally wary sidelong glances. Its not every day these people see a 7’3” minotaur warrior apparently. The inn was a drab, squat affair. Normally I would consider that it must’ve seen better days but in this case I’m not sure that’s true. After Vicrael had arranged lodgings, food and ale the other patrons largely left us alone as we discussed what we would do now that the threat from Orcus seems to have been mitigated, for the time being at least.
Part way through our discussion an old gnome on the next table leaned over to ask Glenn whether he was “Glenn of Zaram”, which he is apparently. It seems that news of our new companions exploits at Shadowfell Keep has spread quickly around the region and they have achieved some level of celebrity. The Gnome went by the name of William Flannigan and even by the standard of your average gnome he was tiny. Apparently he had done some adventuring in his younger days, I can just see his three and a half foot frame striking fear into the hearts of Hobgoblin warbands. He informed us that great riches and adventure were to be found in the Minotaur city under Thunderspire Mountain. I was unaware that such a city even existed, though Minron had heard mention of it.
Old Flannigan claims that when civil war drove the minotaurs out of the city much of their wealth was left behind just waiting to be taken by those with the mettle to get to it. Getting to it is not going to be a straightforward task however. The city is now infested with goblins and the like and who knows what else in the deeper parts. I studied the old gnome as he spoke and could find no trace of untruth in his eyes. The decision has been made; tomorrow we head for the mountain.