Dearest Grun,

I am so frustrated! And I have only myself to blame! I let people talk me into a bad idea, and one of our party may very well be dead already because of it.

Last night ended well enough; we took the time to do a little shopping with the carnies, and they had lots of good stuff to choose from. I got a bag of holding (I wasn’t alone, there), and “Pockets” now has an odd-looking dog following him around like a puppy. There’s more mithril mail in the party than before, too.. so I guess that excuse to visit is on hold right now. With our tendency to get in trouble, Drusilia probably couldn’t afford to wait.

This morning, I decided to put the fortune-teller’s words to work, and began digging in the center of town. That happened to also be our front yard, but Father understood the situation (I think). I was expecting that as people heard what I was doing and why, I’d get some help (the beast is attacking us all, after all!), but I’d barely started when the others came up and talked me into trying the tunnels beneath the old Everston Estate.

I know at least one tunnel goes right under town, but we were so deep at the time.. still, I thought to myself, perhaps it had made its lair in the tunnels that were there, and burrowed new ones to the surface. Drusilia suggested leaving the villagers to dig, but I didn’t like that idea - what if it attacked while they dug, and no fighters to protect them? I decided to leave the digging for now, and check the tunnels first, hoping that the townsfolk were warned enough to keep anything from happening while we checked it out. Aramil decided to stay and study his spells while we were gone and headed back to Fafnir’s, but we hadn’t even made it out of town when Fafnir heard a scream from his own house!

It was terrible, Grun - the whole floor of Fafnir’s house had been pushed upward, and he was gone. His toad saw two white arms reach up and grab our friend into the earth; suddenly, our mission had a lot more urgency, as the toad familiar also sensed that Aramil was not yet dead! Off we ran for the Everston Estate!

The Estate was quiet - and full of rotting bodies from our first adventure. It seems like it was so long ago! Finally, we made it to the point in the tunnels where I knew we were directly under the center of town. And the toad was looking straight up! My fears had proven true - the tunnel we were in was too far below whatever the creature was using, and there wasn’t a way up except to go all the way back. The others wanted to look around a little while we were there, and headed down to the cavern with the falling spikes. I did think that was a good idea, as we hadn’t explored it properly before, and it was close - but once we figured out that it was empty, the party headed up a used-looking tunnel on the other side, and walked a good half-mile away from the center of town! If we’re going to trust our information, we were headed right away from the lair, but they had to go on until they reached a gorge, and then pick a fight with black oozes that obviously had nothing to do with our problem! Poor Valon lost his armor and his clothes.. second naked elf in a week..

Finally, we headed back up the tunnel. I’m afraid I was just ready to spit nails at everyone, at this point! Once we were back under the center of town, “Pockets” had a look at the toad, which turned its head a little toward the Estate, so we headed back. Drusilia had a very bright light cast on her holy symbol at this point, so we used it to examine the ceiling for any sign of burrowing. At the lake, we did spot a small hole in the ceiling. Fafnir flew up and set a rope for us to climb, and we followed the tunnel up, hoping for the best - but it was another dead end. Finally, we took the raft back across the lake, but not before “Pockets” tried to go fishing for the undead giant pike in the water. I swear, you wouldn’t know it was his best friend that’s in trouble, he gets distracted so easily!

So, here I am, writing you another letter-journal from beneath the Everston Estate. I guess we’ll be setting out to dig from above, in a while. Or not? The arguing has me frustrated beyond belief! Poor Aramil!

Wish us luck, Grun, we need it again!
With love,
Ghelt