Sometimes, adventurers like us need reminding of our place. We live a strange life, intense danger for untold riches. We live on the edge, often over the edge. When I see an orc, I see a target, an opportunity for murder and glory. When the common man sees a rampaging green beast, he sees death, fear and if he is very lucky he sees that quickly enough to draw his sword and fight for his home.
Days like today bring us back down to earth. I sit now safely by the fireside, licking my wounds and counting myself fortunate to be alive. The same will not be said of those in the keep we failed to defend or of those on the walls who died this night in it’s defence. I’d like to say that I don’t care, that I’m happy that I killed some orcs and that we’re on to our next adventure but that isn’t the whole story.
I would be dead now had fate not smiled upon us in the strangest way possible, a gnome inventor who by virtue of some machine, was able to help us escape.
The castle is now overrun, it’s inhabitants probably slain.
More worrying perhaps is how organised the orcs were. In any case, it was a fruitless trip, our keep was a local joke and now there is another ruin in the hills East of Neverwinter.