Throughout my journal, you will see some red ink marks, in my stylistic cursive letter these reflect my personal and very partial view of the events that unfold. Sometimes, I also use my red pencil to emphasize names or locations.

Howdy. I’m Wilco Mugwich, also known as Redcap. While the journal of some of my fellow brethren are all gloomy and dark, I tend to take a more lightweight view of the world. This is extremely contradictory as I ran from the Southlands to the dread grasp of Icewind dale, where the Frostmaiden curses the land in a neverending Winter.

What a lovely place to hide from my persecutors. I guess that no one expects the Spanish Inquisition. The cold and chill wind from the glaciers constantly remembers us of the whispering curse from the Frost Maiden. The sun barely rises in the horizon and people here are as welcoming as a hungry Owlbear that has just woken from slumber. Nonetheless, that is the place where I had decided to hide and, as any adventurer, I had to make a living.

As squishy and threatening as any halfling can be, I decided that my short life span would be better served in the company of more capable and menacing people, hence I joined a group of adventurers. Wreckage, an artificer, and Or’o, a druid, were both towering Goliaths familiar with the region. Magnus was a mysterious man that worshiped Baal. Ranmorr, a drunken dwarf wizard. Pox, a small gnome who was the savegest amongst us and finally Fate, a halfling spellcaster – I will call us the small towering threat, but enough with introductions…

We were all tending to our own business when Hiln Trollbane, a retired dwarf bounty hunter, approached us. She explained the ways of the north and how the people in the ten towns had tried to please the frost maiden through worship and human sacrifices so the Goddess could end her neverending Winter. The sacrifices involved some sort of raffle were names were put into some box and randomly picked. As expected of any democractic system, someone was rigging the raffle and riggers started to die so our task was to hunt whoever the murder was. I found the whole worship business particularly stupid. If you need warm, pray to Lathander – God of sun.

Hearing that the last murder was related to someone named Sephek and that he was traveling to Easthaven, we had no option but to follow his footsteps through the frozen land. Our travels had one pleasant moment: when we saw the rooftops of Easthaven and we rushed to the welcoming warm and shelter of the city’s inn. Many interesting things unfolded during our time in the city but I’ll revisit these later. For now, it suffices to say that our search lead us to an illegal market where merchants traded goods kindly removed from not so fortunate adventurers. Sephek was among the mercenaries that secured the place. Confronting him here was not an option so we came up with a plan to lure him out by pretending to smuggle people that had rigged the raffle.

Stephen took the bait and he eventually followed us to his doom at an abandoned warehouse. I take no pride in the fact that the seven of us jumped at him as a hungry dog jumps at a chewed bone but who said that life is fair? We killed him, and collected our bounty.

The whole job had much to tell about how the northren people handled things. I started to question whether this was the best place to hide but the small towering threat gave me some confort for facing the things yet to come.

Details were omitted and/or modified, so I don’t spoil much of an official Adventures League game. I am not a native speaker and this is a small exercise to improve my writing. Please be kind.