Alalen 8
Alalen's Story


Eventually, our employer returned, paid us, and sent us off on another mission. Fetch some kind of “shadowmoss” from the Wilds. It had been many seasons since I’d seen the south, so I was actually looking forward to it.

After a quick stop in Denerim for more supplies, including more rope and a blacksmith for our town, we set off south, intending to stop off at the city of Lothering. We spent some time talking with the patrons of a tavern, and discovered a number of tasks we could assist with, hopefully for ample reward.

Sam and I discovered the local baron, or duke, or whatever these fools call their idiot leader, needed someone to escort his children down from the north, where they had been staying. When we went to visit, the steward, a lady named Alenka, bade us enter. She dropped a gold coin, which I of course returned to her. Her reaction to it was a bit peculiar, to say the least. But any issues I might have had with her were quickly overshadowed by the Arl, as he introduced himself. I am well aware of how humans treat elves in these cities, and it is one of the main reasons I avoid them, but to have to watch it happen was infuriating. I spent the rest of the meeting letting Sam do the talking, lest I decide to stab the pompous ass. Verbally or physically, I’m still unsure which.

When we rejoined with the others, we found that Legnar had learned of an enormous bandit encampment to the south, which would likely be a problem for us in the coming days. Daryel also told of that there was a sister at the local Chantry that needed to be escorted to Denerim, which seemed an ideal task for when we returned. We all decided to follow through on the Arl’s task first, as it was more time critical, and we set off to join Alenka near the woods to the north.

Sam Holbig 7
Sam's Story

28th of Harvestmere, 9:41 Dragon

With the Dalish scout guiding us, we made good time through the forest heading back to the village. Vintiver, that’s what it’s called! Maker above, not even forty yet and I’m going senile already. Anyway, there was a small encounter with a large spider, but we made short work of it and soon found ourselves back in the village.

Obviously, having had several hours’ head start, Harralan and his elves-turned-darkspawn had managed to beat us to Vintiver, but the townsfolk were doing… not too badly, to be honest. A decent number of them at least knew to stick the bad guy with the sharp bit, which is more than I can say for the folk in the separatist village when they were first starting out. (I learned later that Tyriel decided to call that place something like “Aneth Ara,” which is apparently elvish for “my safe place.” Seems as good a name as any to me.) The town’s sheriff, Tauril Dale, was also holding his own quite well, and who should we see when we arrive but our old friends — the dwarf, the Tal-Vashoth, the tree-shaped elf, the human mage, and their two buddies — squaring off against Demon-Harralan himself. Between them all they were doing a fine job of keeping most of the townfolk alive, though the town itself was in a bad way and getting worse. And then as soon as we run up, Harralan lets out this nasty wave of fire that knocks everyone fighting him on their arses, showing us all that he means business.

Well, that seemed a good a cue as any, so Alalen, Legnar and myself charged into the fray while Enna and Daryel held back and peppered the demon with arrows and magic. (Emery cast his firey weapons spell on us, but I think he must have gotten distracted or something, because I’m fairly certain I didn’t see any flame blasts hit Harralan after that.) The demon put up a decent fight, and let out another one of those fire-waves at one point, but that didn’t stop us from literally beating the hell out of him. Ultimately our attacks must have proven too much for the demon to bear, because it shot out of Harralan’s body like a bolt, leaving nothing but a dead, naked elf on the ground with my spear buried in his junk. (Which can’t have been either of our finest moments, let me tell you.) It must have been the demon’s magic that was keeping the others as darkspawn, because when it fled, they all turned back into confused-looking elves.

So the town was saved… in a manner of speaking. The townsfolk were mostly fine, but Vintiver itself was wrecked beyond saving — and it figures that I’d finally remember the damn place’s name just in time for it to disappear from the map! There was little point in any of them staying, and Alalen managed to convince Tauril that he and his folk could do worse than pulling up roots and starting over at Aneth Ara. We spent the rest of the day salvaging what could be salvaged and honoring the dead, and the rest of the night celebrating being alive. I confess I had a bit too much ale for my own good; I vaguely remember challenging the Tal-Vashoth to a street fight and getting turned down, and I’m pretty sure Enna tried to steal one of my kidneys while we were both too deep in our cups. (I gave her a quick jab in the backside with my spear the next morning, so we’re all squared away.) The Dalish we’d left behind on our dash to Vintiver also arrived in the night to pick up their living and their dead, and we convinced them to travel with us a while until we hit Aneth Ara.

The trip back was mostly uneventful. We swung by Denerim, picked up a Grey Wardens representative so we could be damn sure they knew where this chain was going, and I hear our elven party members took the caravel’s lorekeeper to take a look at the quarantined alienages. We got back to Aneth Ara by means of a summoned rock bridge — a fancy trick that, not going to lie — and left the folk formerly of Vintiver to get settled while we tracked down Azrael. Wouldn’t you know it, the bastard’s not here! We’ll have to wait for him to get back from some manner of Circle business before we can properly get paid and get on with this amulet business. (I chatted a while with the Grey Warden during the trip, and apparently this whole scheme has some basis in actual practice and isn’t as trousers-on-head as I’d originally feared, so that’s a comfort at least.) Still, it feels good to have this trek finished and behind us, and I admit I’m actually looking forward to seeing where that crazy wizard sends us next.

Alalen 7
Alalen's Story


Halfway back to Vintiver, we were ambushed by an enormous damned spider. We dispatched it as quickly as possible and immediately set off again.

When we arrived back in town, the whole place was under assault by the rage demon and his army of darkspawn. I slightly regret that Enna and Emory offed their blacksmith and a few other able-bodied fighters, as they would have been useful, but it’s too late for that. Only thing we can do now is fight with what we have.

Harralan, as I later found out the poor demon-possessed elf was named, fought hard, but was ultimately dispatched. This freed the other elves from his curse, though we had to make it clear to some of the villagers that killing them off in their confused state was not acceptable.

The town itself being doomed, I suggested they join us and return to Aneth Ara. The place could use more people who have some idea of how to survive on their own. The rest of the night was spent packing whatever survived, followed by excessive drinking. Sam and Enna are an amusing pair of drunks, as their antics border on hazardous for the unwary. Glad that Tal-vashoth declined Sam’s request for a brawl. There has been far too much fighting this day.

The next morning, we all set off on a largely uneventful trip home. Enna seemed to be feeling the effects of previous night’s revelry, as she spent the first day laid out in the back of a wagon, moaning and heaving.

When we finally reached Denerim, we separated from the caravan to enter the city. We collected one of the Grey Wardens to supervise the transfer of the chain we acquired from Harralan, and Enna and I took the lorekeeper with us to inspect the Alienage. The guards there were as woefully unhelpful as ever, but they did at least allow us to speak to a few elves inside. The Lorekeeper seemed to recognize the malady that had afflicted our city-bound bretheren, though I cannot recall what he said had caused it. Perhaps Enna paid better attention?

We then returned to Aneth Ara. The magic bridge is a nice touch, and certainly beats the disorienting after effects of the magic cloud thing they had used before.

Azrael was, of course, absent… Blasted mage. Well, I suppose the time spent training the residents of the town was not wasted, as they showed much more promise than they have in the past.

Sam Holbig 6
Sam's Story

30th of Kingsway, 9:41 Dragon

Our path to the ruins was taking us deeper into the forest when we damn near fell over the edge of a 100-foot deep crevasse with a raging river at the bottom of it. Do those normally show up in forests? The only way across was by a fallen tree that conveniently served as a bridge. Of course, those of us who weren’t elves weren’t looking forward to making that trip, and as we were weighing our options, somebody did something to startle a whole bunch of crows out of the nearby trees. These crows started circling ominously over the tree-bridge, and most of us, having experienced enough of this kind of horse crap in our lives to tell what was coming next, were seriously considering killing the whole damn flock and getting things over and done with before trying to make the crossing. Only Legnar Talks-Too-Much suggested that perhaps we should just try to cross; he reasoned that, if we didn’t attack the crows, there was a chance they wouldn’t attack us, but if we tried to kill them they’d definitely attack. (For a fellow who seems to have dealt with blighted creatures before, he doesn’t seem to have thought the logic of that through terribly well, in my opinion….)

Well, the rest of us weren’t having that, so the elves and the mages started blasting crows out of the sky. They started swarming, naturally, and Legnar decided to keep the crows distracted by running across the tree-bridge at a dead sprint, making all kinds of noise and ruckus in the process. Talky little man’s got some serious balls, I’ll give him that. Our ranged fighters gave him some cover while the rest of us made our way across, albeit with much more care and much less speed; my bear-hug-and-shimmy method was probably the least dignified way of getting over the bridge, if I’m being honest. Eventually we all made it across without too many of us taking beaks in the back, though I think Daryel might be having nightmares about birds and bridges for a while yet.

More forest, more walking, and eventually we found ourselves in a narrow valley leading straight to the mouth of the ruins. (I’m still not entirely convinced this terrain is natural, and Alalen backs me up on that.) We made our way down the first set of stairs, and found an antechamber with some decidedly half-arsed defenses: a rusty old blade trap with a tripwire so obvious even I managed to see it, and a trio of decrepit old skeletons. I managed to take down one of the bonewalkers, and Emery managed to trigger the trap in such a way that the swinging blade took out the other two. (He claims this was intentional. I’m not so sure, myself.) The antechamber led to a hallway, which led to some dungeon cells, which held about a dozen beaten-up Dalish prisoners — the remnants of Eshara’s caravel. Apparently Mr. Got-Possessed-By-A-Demon — Harralan, that’s the bastard’s name! — had already turned the others into darkspawn and was on his way back to take out his frustrations on the village. Most of the Dalish were in too bad a way to do much, but one of their scouts agreed to take us back by another path, which will hopefully shave enough time off the trip that we’ll make it back before Harralan destroys everything.

… Hmm. If there’s another, quicker path, I wonder if Eshara knew about it? And if she did, I wonder why she didn’t bother to tell us? Might have to be having words with her about that, if we make it through this.

Alalen 6
Alalen's Story

We traveled on the next morning, reaching another crevasse. There was a lovely fallen tree to serve as a bridge, and a murder of blight crows to harass us the whole way. Legnar ran across like a madman, Sam and Daryel went a-shimmy-ing, while Enna and I laid down covering fire, following at a more normal pace once the others were across.

We eventually made it to the ruins, where we were attacked by three old skeletal creatures. We dispatched one, and the others fell victim to a stroke of fate in the form of a blade trap, though Emory claimed he did it on purpose.

After we search the ruins and found them occupied only by the weak and injured from the aravel, whom we freed and fed, we set off with one of them to guide us along a short cut.

Sam Holbig 5
Sam's Story

16th of Kingsway, 9:41 Dragon

You know, the thought occurs that, if anyone ever bothers to read this again (myself included), using people’s real names would probably be more useful than nicknaming everyone with snarky placeholders.

Our merry band of adventurers left town before first light, in order to avoid running into Colon the unfortunately-yet-accurately named blacksmith and whatever gaggle of racist halfwits he’d managed to drum up. Elf-girl wolf-bait — whose name is Eshara, apparently — came with us to the edge of the woods, and left us with instructions to find her caravel that I was reasonably certain our two Dalish — that’s Alalen the fighter and Enna the kidney-thief, for those keeping score — would be able to follow. We parted ways, and our group started pushing into the forest while Eshara went back to hide under the Chantry healer’s petticoats. (No, I don’t remember the Chantry healer’s name. Sorry, posterity.)

We had been walking for about five minutes when who should appear from behind the trees but Colon and the aforementioned gaggle of racist halfwits. I vaguely remember something about him saying it would be best if we left town, and us pointing out that we’d already left town, but I may be imagining that. Anyway, the gaggle of halfwits decided to get rowdy, and we had to defend ourselves. Alalen, Legnar (the dwarf who talks too much) and I were prepared to give the lot of them a quick swat on the arse and send them home, but apparently Enna decided she’d had enough of this horseshit and put an arrow through Colon’s brain. The two mages (Emery the human pyromancer and Daryel the elf healer) also defended themselves with lethal force because, as they spent the next hour explaining to Legnar, you can’t pull punches with magic. And in hindsight, I can’t say I blame any of them; Colon and his band of idiots had obviously been waiting for us, which means they had obviously left at least an hour or two before we did, which means he and his motley crew had gathered together and snuck out of town in the middle of the night without our watchmen realizing it. That implies a greater level of malicious forethought (and competence, to be fair) than I’d ascribed to them previously. Still, it’s bad luck that the town’s now without a blacksmith; I may have to see if we can do something about that once all this rage-demon business is concluded.

We walked for a bit longer through the woods, and eventually the Dalish managed to track down what remained of the caravel. It was a right mess, with obvious signs of combat and struggle, but no bodies. Curiously, the only footprints we saw belonged to elves — none to whatever else might have taken them. Sam’s Thinking Cap says there’s three possible reasons for that: one, something came back and painstakingly erased the darkspawns’ footprints while leaving the elves’ intact; two, the elves were taken by something that could float or fly; or three, the elves were taken by other elves. My money’s on the last one, as no creature on Thedas is quite that dumb, and Eshara didn’t say anything about flying darkspawn, but she did mention that the search parties her clan sent out for Grumbleelf McRagepants (whose actual name escapes me — again, sorry, posterity) both disappeared prior to the attack on the caravel.

We spent the rest of the day following the tracks of the elven prisoners, which, surprise surprise, were headed for the ruins. Eventually night fell and we made camp. These cackling jackal-man darkspawn attacked us during the night, but we beat them down without too much trouble. I think Enna climbed a tree to get away from one, and kept shooting it out of the tree as it climbed after her. Clearly these were not the brightest of Thedas’s creatures; who knows, maybe they did think erasing their tracks while leaving the elves’ was a good idea.

Tired. Sleep now. More later.

Alalen 5
Alalen's Story


Rejoined the group, got caught up on the demon situation. Met Eshara and Legnar. –
I was right, back at the farm. This isn’t good at all. At least the girl survived. Odd to find a dwarf up here on the surface, but more company in dire times is always welcome.

Ambushed by an apparently racist blacksmith and his posse –
I don’t know this loud mouth or what his problem is, but I’ve no time or patience for his bigotry.

Enna and Emory killed the blacksmith and a few of his compatriots –
Well that was a good deal more lethal than I would have liked, but judging from Enna’s disdain for that blacksmith, he did something profoundly foolish while I was away. And anybody who takes a pitchfork to a circle mage is just asking for trouble. Hopefully the local law enforcement will refrain from doing anything rash before we have a chance to explain the situation, but there is little time to do anything about it now. The rampaging demon takes precedence.

We continued on, discovered a trashed caravan and signs of combat –
At least there appear to be some survivors from this. But we had best find them quickly. The blindest darkspawn in Fereldan could follow this trail, and I doubt these people will fare any better in round two.

Followed the trail of those who departed –
Set up camp at night, at which point a group of darkspawn attacked us and were defeated –
So these are what attacked those farmers. I don’t like them anymore than I do the blight wolves. Although them being foolish enough to announce their presence before attacking was good. Had they had time to reach Daryel before I got out of that tree, that could have been ugly

Sam Holbig 4
Sam's Story

2nd of Kingsway, 9:41 Dragon

Securing our campsite after the blight wolf attack led to us discovering two important bits of information about the wrecked farm. One, someone had scrawled “Mythal” on the wall of the farmhouse in blood. According to my elf companions, Mythal is the elven god of love, motherhood, and — according to some obscure sources — wreaking bloody-minded vengeance against one’s enemies. I suppose I have to hand it to those elves; whatever else you can say about them, their gods can certainly multitask! Two, there was one other person besides us left alive on the farm: a wounded Dalish girl that one of the others found in a pile of hay in the barn. And what should we find in a bag on her hip but a length of chain that matches the one we’ve been sent to find? Not suspicious at all, no sir.

Anyway, the elf-girl was in a pretty bad way, and though our healer was able to stabilize her he couldn’t get her to wake up again. The thought occurred to us that the healer in the nearby town might do a better job, or at least that the two healers could put their heads together and see what they came up with, so we made plans to head back that way. Come the morning, just before we left, we added another traveler to our merry little band: a dwarf rogue who likes to talk a lot, both out loud in the Trade Tongue, and to himself in what I imagine is some form of dwarvish. Not sure how I feel about the fellow yet, but I can deal with his peculiarities if he proves useful enough.

So we made it back to town, and left the wounded elf to the ministrations of the local Chantry healer. (Well, ultimately we did anyway; there was some shuffling back and forth between the farmhouse and the town with the healer’s apprentice in tow, but for all the good it did we may as well have just brought the elf there from the start.) As the day went on, the townsfolk started to get a mite tense, until eventually an honest-to-Maker torches-and-pitchforks mob showed up outside the Chantry demanding that we hand the elf over for some Ferelden countryside justice. Seems the local blacksmith is a hothead named Colon — and with a name like that I’d be pretty angry myself — who is none-too-happy with elves as a whole; he got in a fight with a band that came through town for a festival a few days back, and now he’s got the town convinced that they’re the ones responsible for all the darkspawn running about. To be honest, the thought crossed my mind at the time that he may well have been right — I’ve heard of stranger things happening. Still, the elf was the only witness we had to the farmhouse massacre, so we told the mob that unless they wanted to burn their own damn Chantry down, they could go home and wait until we had a chance to put some questions to her. The mob dispersed, and later the sheriff (who’s a much more reasonable fellow by my reckoning) came by to apologize for the whole affair. I get the sense that everyone except that fool blacksmith had the good sense to be a little embarrassed by it.

It seems that whatever-it-is that healer did worked, because the elf woke up later that night. She told us that her merry band had a hothead of its own, and that he was the one who got in a fight with Arsehole the Blacksmith. After the elves left town, their leader sent Hothead off to scout and cool his temper a little; apparently he never came back, and soon after the elves got taken prisoner by darkspawn and taken to the ruins we were headed towards. Seems there’s a big demon there now that no one seems to have heard of before. Elf-girl managed to escape with that bit of chain we saw, and apparently that annoyed the demon enough to send the darkspawn after her. One thing led to another, and next thing she knew she was back in the Chantry with a farm full of slaughtered innocents in her wake.

Okay, time for old Sam to put his thinking cap on. This chain we’re after was supposed to be binding a rage demon, right? The sort that, I don’t know, might possess a pissed-off elf scout with a bone to pick against human bigots? And then together, the two of them might start slaughtering random farmers and leaving the names of angry elf gods scrawled in blood on the walls, mightn’t they? I realize I’m jumping to conclusions, but it’s not hard for me to figure out a likely chain of events here. Speaking of chains, we’re still getting paid to get our hands on the damn thing, and now we’ve got even more reason to head out to those ruins; elf-girl wants us to save her band, and pretty much everyone agrees that rage-elf-demon-pants and his darkspawn will wipe out the town if we let them be. Looks like our trip is about to get a bit more exciting….

Legnar Umlaut Contract # 1
Contract Completed

For those who are reading this book, These are the adventures of Legnar Umlaut. They are contract summaries that he has taken along the course of journey to find his missing sibling. Please note, everything within these brackets, ( ), are his personal thoughts the matter.

If found, please return this book to the Umlaut caste within Orzammar

Contract Completed

Reward: Free stay at the tavern until the end of the festival with meals included. Free mead on main festival night. (I much rather coin for my work, but I’ll use this time to rest and relax before moving forward trying to find brother and sister)

Nothing wrong with a little R&R and I’ve at this trek for a good four months now with very little knowledge nor lead on where to go next. The Festival in Vintner is not unlike the drunken get together in the Deep Road, just a lot of less fighting. Did notice a group of elves get onto a scrape with the local blacksmith, but couldn’t tell (nor care) what was the issue. The mead and ale was flowing well throughout the night. Stay a couple of days after the festival and I felt like I stay in one place for too long. Left at first light headed to the capital city in Ferelden, Denerim.

Passed by a farm on the outskirt of Vintner, but noticed that it had been destroyed since walking into town, decided to take path through farmstead for possible people needing assistance (and possible rewards). Turns out is was attacked recently and the problem was taken of by a group of adventures, that greeted me, WITH A NOTCHED BOW TO MY BACK!!!! Turns out they believe that I was a shady figure that cause the problem. (Can’t blame them)

With the confusion behind was I discovered that they also came the farmstead in these condition, only with a few dark spawned wolfs within the area. So they introduced themselves, five in total, but I’ve only meet three due to a problem that soon arose. First the one who approached me at arrow point, an archer: couldn’t tell the race, she was keeping her face hidden. (a good number were actually). Her companions often jokes about her affinity of kidneys and collecting them. The next who approach, and diffused situation, is a human and looks like the front lines of the group, wielding a rather large spear and shield combo with a generous amount of armor. A guardian so to speak. The last was another hooded male with the clothing of a non-­combatant with no visible weapon, save for his walking staff. I assume he to be a mage of some kind, perhaps their healer. Mainly because he come with telling for a problem there are currently having with a elven girl, which that found in the aftermath of slaying the wolves, not responding to his treatment.

I offered to lead them to Vintner and bring her to the local chantrey and see if they can assist her their. The group was… not ecstatic with the idea (I don’t know why) but compromised in with one people accompanying me to see if chantrey could offer a hand with her case. Once back in town, the air felt different and uneasy about something. We made it to the chantrey, explained the situation and they offer a scribe to assess her condition, so we rode back to the farm. The scribe couldn’t believe the state of the farm seeing that is was an active farm a couple of weeks ago but quickly started examining the girl. Here I met the other two members of this group. Another hooded male with a good amount of weaponry on him. Probably an all round combat expert. And the other of a human male with the obvious marking of a circle mage. The scribe determined that there is little that they can do here and need to return the the chantrey for proper care, and that the girl was safe to be moved. So back to Vintner……AGAIN…..

I found myself is this town for a third time in one day, and I started to noticed the looks that everyone is giving to us. Unsure if those looking are intend for me, the group, or the unconscious girl I couldn’t tell, but the air felt heavier still and I something was going to happen soon. Once in the chantrey, I discovered why the hooded members of the group were hooded. They were elves. (Not that I cared, but they did) I have notice a discrimination between elves and humans, and is gotten worse the farther I traveled east. I assure them that it didn’t concern me what race they were and I completely despised people looking down on others based on their race, caste, clan, or noble standing. The rest of the day went mostly uneventful, just a explanation why the group is traveling together, a proper introduction to myself, how and why was my travels lead me out here, and it turns out that they may need someone of my skillset. They explained that they are send in search for a magic chain which housed a demon within chain. Odd thing it, they may have found the chain already! Only trouble is the mage and healer can’t sense any magical properties within the chain and they only lead is the eleven girl which they found with the chain in hand. And so we wait……

During the down time nearing twilight, the town started problematic, to the point where the blacksmith created a mob and started demanding the chantrey to give up the elves. They believed that the elven are the cause for the misfortune at the farm and that they have been causing problems ever since the festival. Sam, the guardian, tried to defuse the crowd only to the blacksmith counter back, claiming the he wasn’t at the festival and the group isn’t allowed to be trusted. I step into the conservation and started to speak my mind. Seen that I’ve done a service for the town and couple days ago, some members to the mob started to sway into our direction. The warden of the town shows up and calm the mob further down and with that the healer, Daryel, step out a reveals himself as an elf asking the mob, “If you believe that the elven girl is responsible for the misfortunes, then let her speak for herself! But for now she is currently injured and healing up at the moment!” And with that speech the blacksmith lost the favor of the mob and everyone started to clear out and head home. As the mob dissipated, I thought is was it for a little recon on the blacksmith. Seeing that he was the inciter of the mob, I grew suspicious that he has a motive in the elven girl. Mainly for the fact that the group never said anything about the farm and he was the one who brought it up. I shadowed him back to his shop and waited till he was asleep to have a closer look. A simple lock on the window, easy enough to slip in undetected. After entering the shop I found nothing pertaining to the elven nor anything involving him with the farm. Just a bad blood with elves. (Each day, i find more and more discrimination against elves, has it always been like this?)

Once I head back to the chantrey, I found the warden, Tolden, it speaking with the group. He apologizes for the blacksmith and the rest of the town. As I was trying to catch Tolden
attention, the elven girl starts stirring and waken in a panic. She introduces herself as Azshara and she escaped from captivity from an old set of ruin within the forest. The warden states that many adventures head to the ruin, looking for it’s secrets, but nothing ever turns up in those quest and the adventures leave disappointed. So this is a recent thing that is happening. Azahara explain that she was with the group of elves that partook in the festival, until the incident with the blacksmith. Their caravan left shortly after, but on of the main scouts took off after the fight in a rage. Not wanting to leave the scout, they sent many scouts to search for him. None returned. The next day the caravan was assaulted by creatures and took the survivors from the attack into the ruins and she escaped from their, grabbing the chain that Daryel currently has. After a quick investigation about the chain, we discovered that the chain was holding a demon of rage within itself and it seems to have found a way out and possess the enraged scout.

Alalen 4
Alalen's Story


I’m decided to do some scouting the of nearby countryside, as well as hunting in the area for additional supplies. Parted company with the rest of the group with plans to rejoin in town in a few days time.


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