Where neither Seraphim nor raindrops go...

To Havorstov we go

After receiving word of the untimely death of Jules LeCroix, we decided to brave the Gyrewood to make our way to Havorstov. On the road we encountered Papa Ghulo and his circus, looking for their fellow lost circus members. While setting up camp for the evening, we were attacked by a severed hand. We dispatched the hand, although some had darker intentions than that, and trekked off into the woods after a haunting voice. We encountered an undead, bloated, Halfling hand collector and were able to subdue the abomination. Upon doing so, we were able to rescue the two missing circus members, although not without the loss of one of their hands each. Good thing neither of them were jugglers.

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“Good thing neither of them were jugglers.”

brilliant :)

To Havorstov we go

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