Book has rejoined the worldspirit. His shell of runecarved plates lies cold and empty on the floor of the abandoned mine house. Perhaps he now sees what the Ancients see: that this land is cursed still, yes. But, that his sacrifice was made not in vain. The Brothers Gray are no more. They will no longer plague the local farmers or waylay helpless travelers.
Perhaps my sentiments come too soon. We may someday find a way to bring our warforged ally back, but such magic is beyond me now.
I rest easier tonight knowing that those vile halflings do not share my open sky. Maybe they had cause to hold Baron Lucas Gravehound responsible for their lost family members. Is the baron really so corrupt that he would unleash a pack of trolls on a defenseless halfling village? One cannot help but speculate; these are dark times. Still, nothing can justify the evils the Brothers visited upon the commonfolk, who were just as vulnerable as they once were.
What really troubles me is that there were so many rallied to their unjust cause. I must confess I am forced to rethink my mercenary lifestyle. It was Book, in any case, that was so enamored by coin. Quariont and I have bigger fish to fry. (Debu’s ear just perked up: how did he know I was thinking about fish?)