Like hail falling from the heavens, the spell of the Sick Witch is hammering the lands. The Dwarves of Distraction are under it's curse, and are of the Mood Foul. Tjorn, the Hypercrybarian is wailing about like the woman of a fallen warrior. The Sick Witch has summoned forth Carbos, Lord of the Fat Ones, to play me one of his sweet melodies, so that I too may fall under her curse. By the power of the Ancient one, may I be albe to dodge her arrows.
The cold sting of the Frost Giant is still upon the land, but he has not rewarded us with any Treasure of Snow. My heart is starting to long for the soft green touch of the Maiden of Spring. May Lord Helios return to these forsaken lands.
