We collect sneaks. Things that fear to stand and see death coming for them. You can only delay that day, but never evade it. The elf speaks of ways sometimes, but they are unnatural magics. The dark and wrong things lurking in bones and decayed flesh.
This thing that follows us now, the gnome called it elemental. Something from beyond our world. It walks through the earth as easily as upon it, and it damaged my armor with it’s claws. Not a simple scratch or dent from the blow of a weapon, this carved a deep gash in the metal. I agree that my can is ugly and too shiny, but it has saved me already since I’ve worn it. Should this thing from the planes break it, I would feel Gorum’s breath on my neck with every fight.
There are other things in this cave. Strange rooms that do not stay one size. Things made of iron that act alive, but are not. There is too much here that has been wrought with mystic powers and the . . . wrongness. . . has sunk into the rock. We have found the Cauldron that the gnome spoke of, guarded by the iron thing. The gnome and the elf and the bard are studying it now, but I just want to smash it. Nothing good will come from the thing.
I can feel the rage in me lessen as we go. My strength and my stride fading slowly. I hope to wrap the chain of my hammer around the throat of the master of this place and wring him from the world soon. The longer we take the further away it seems and the closer the red path into the ground.