Malakin Flann

UP: Atlantic

    As I woke this morning, my back began to ache. I slowly began to equip my studded armor and finally my backpack. As I walked towards the Minoc provisioner�s shop, the local town crier grabbed my attention. Though she was yelling the usual �Hear Ye, Hear Ye�, what she continued to say sparked my attention : apparently the royal horticulturalist on his way to Britain had a bag filled with corpser seeds.

Brigands had waylaid the poor sod as he was about to cross the large swamp near the Desert. His bag had spilled all over the ground and hundreds of corpsers began to grow in the middle of the road. As the crier finished telling me this news, I rushed towards Vesper to inform my fellow warriors, who were refreshing themselves with frosty ale at the Ironwood Inn.

Those with vision still clear gathered their weapons and we began to ride our steeds towards the desert. As we approached the swamp, hundreds of tentacles filled the road ahead. A few adventurers had already begun to thrust their weapons into these huge writhing limbs that threatened the citizenry of Britannia. As time passed, and the strange battle wore on, more and more adventurers began to pour in through moongates summoned by the mages that were already there.