After cleansing the keep, proper, of bandit filth we delved into the root cellar. There we encountered The Stag Lord’s father. The senior Stag was an impressively insane and violent druid who displayed respectable martial and magical prowess. He assaulted us by shape changing and summoning acid spitting ants the size of ponies. The fighting was furious and quite more deadly than anticipated.
In the root cellar we liberated goods valued at thousands upon thousands of gold coins. We left a small contingent with the goods while the remaining unit moved on to Oleg’s Trading Post. Along the way we placed a restless soul to peace be bequeathing The Stag Lords remains to his watery grave. Upon reaching Oleg’s Trading Post we sent word of The Stag Lords demise, and requested troops to aid in securing the fortified abbey.
The Sword Lords are sending an inspector to confirm The Stag Lord’s demise, and to bring us a reward of some sort. I am hoping for a prestigious medal, or title . . . perhaps a knighthood. We have a playwright hanging about, perhaps I could hire him to write a play casting us in proper heroic light.