Franz Lohner's Chronicle - Meterological Maunderings

An absent-minded man of mysteries, Franz Lohner relies on his bulging journal to keep track of occurrences, intrigues and arguments around Taal's Horn Keep. Sometimes his notes are even useful, believe it or not. The Franz Lohner Chronicles are extracts from that journal.

Dear me, it’s got a bit funny outside. Weather just doesn’t know what it’s doing. Blazing hot one moment, pouring with rain the next. Olesya reckons it’s something to do with our little forays into the north - that we’ve upset the natural order of things. Well, insofar as there is any kind of natural order to be had wherever the Dark Gods’ beady little eyes latch onto the landscape. Natural ain’t exactly what they’re known for, if you catch my drift?

But much as I hate to admit it, perhaps the old baggage has got a point. Everything was just fine and dandy until Bardin tried to bring back some of those weapons from the Pilgrim’s Trail. Didn’t work, of course. No, the blessed things evaporated into memory as soon as they were out of the Bridge of Shadows. Another reminder that these pilgrimages are enchanted right up the wazoo. Whatever a wazoo is. I asked Catrinne, and she gave me a funnier look than normal.

Anyway, point is that all this meteorological disturbance kicked in just after. Could be coincidence, I’ll grant you, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my long life it’s that there’s no such thing as coincidence, just a series of jokes where you haven’t yet got the punchline. Bardin broke the rules of the pilgrimage, and now we’re all paying the price. 

I just hope whatever power Bardin’s offended gets bored and sets things right before too much longer. The torrential rain’s made the mountain passes damn near unnavigable, and that’s not good for the supply situation. Worse than that, when the weather brightens, Markus has taken to sunbathing in the nuddy atop the tower. That’s not doing a lot for morale, for one reason or another. Some sights should not be seen by man or beast.

Bah. Why am I wittering on so? Never used to complain like back when I was sellswording. You took your lumps during the day, and were grateful to see the fall of night. Could be I’m getting soft, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something wicked coming this way - something that’ll make a spot of rain and Kruber’s unbridled glory seem like a pleasant interlude. 

One thing’s for certain: I need to have a word with that sticky-fingered dwarf. We don’t need to go borrowing more trouble. 

I don’t suppose we can borrow some peace and quiet? That’d be nice.