So, the Captain’s gone and turned undead, poor sod. We got her locked in one o’ them guard tower cells nice and tight. With her groanin’ locked away, it’s high time we make our way to the blasted old wizard’s tower. The city’s too quiet for my likin’, and I’ve got a bad itch in my axe hand.

We’re pushin’ through the streets when I spot this one building—real overgrown mess, more so than the rest of this stone heap. Smells odd, too. Not foul… not quite. It’s like when ye crack open a fresh keg after a week of sloggin’ through goblin muck. Sweet, inviting. Almost… wrong.

Istrum and Shadowstep, bless their suspicious hides, hang back. But me, Dreafus, and Gerhard? We get drawn in like dwarves to gold. Then there’s Icarus—he don’t hesitate. Walks straight up to the cursed place, and the damn building reacts.

Three flowers hang above the door like death’s bouquet—orange, yellow, and red. The orange one starts leakin’ goop all over Icarus. The yellow puffed spores in his face. And the red… Moradin’s forge, the petals drop like shards o’ glass. Poor lad starts boilin’ up like a stewpot.

Gerhard calls on his god and with a burst of holy light, two of the cursed blooms shrivel like burnt mushrooms. He gives Icarus a bit o’ healing too, though he don’t seem happy about it. I ain’t waitin’ for the third flower to try somethin’ else—I run up and hack the thing clean off. That’ll teach it.

Icarus looks half-dissolved but standin’. Still got some o’ that muck sizzlin’ on his arm, though. He’s out there rollin’ in grass and pourin’ water over himself like a mad elf. Probably makin’ it worse.

Shadowstep, that little madlad, wants me to toss him up to the upper window. Aye, ye heard that right—he wants a dwarf to throw him. I give it a go and of course, he slams face-first into the wall. Dreafus catches the poor sod and carries him inside like a bride on her wedding night. Gerhard makes some joke about ceremonies—I ain’t laughin’.

Me and Gerhard hold back. Something about that place feels cursed from its foundations. Icarus is still floppin’ around outside like a wet badger. Then Istrum yells from inside—more of those cursed flowers up the stairwell. Dreafus gets a faceful of nectar, Shadowstep dances past like he ain’t even there, and checks the upper rooms.

That’s when the stench hits again, that sweet, lurin’ smell. Shadowstep starts screamin’ like a goat in a goblin trap. I watch Gerhard just walk toward the house, eyes glazed like a drunk in a brothel. Somethin’s wrong, so I charge after him.

Next thing I know I’m slippin’ on the steps, gettin’ showered in flower filth. Nectar drips, petals cut, and I’m covered in all kinds of unnatural nonsense. Istrum blasts the last bloom with arcane fire, and Gerhard begrudgingly heals the lot of us again. Then Icarus shows up with a magical rain cloud floatin’ above his head. Handy, actually—I use it to rinse the muck off me beard.

Upstairs we find a ruined library, full o’ scrolls that glow like a treasure chest. Istrum reckons they enchant weapons and armour—that catches my interest. Shadowstep tries to barter a scroll for my last swig of ale. I tell him to shove off. My ale’s worth more than all his tricks. Maybe I’ll share a drop later… if he earns it.

Dreafus finds a book with those cursed runes we saw in the tunnels. No idea what it says, but I don’t like it. As we head out, Shadowstep scribbles “Search Everywhere… Treasure Inside” on the door—in blood. What is wrong with that lad?

We march on. Gerhard pulls me aside and shows me a stone tablet he nicked—has some odd words carved into it: “Where stone once fell, life will rise.” I don’t like it. Sounds like prophecy nonsense, but we keep it quiet for now.

We reach the wizard’s tower just as night wraps around the city like a wolf’s jaws. Tower’s mostly rubble, vines all over. First floor still stands, second and third half-busted. But there’s not enough debris. I know stone—there’s not enough here for a whole tower. Somethin’s wrong.

Naturally, the young idiots—Dreafus, Icarus, Shadowstep—decide to charge in. The rest of us look for shelter. Then we hear Dreafus yellin’. Istrum bolts, and I follow—rage boilin’. The vines are movin’. They’re attackin’!

I call upon the fury o’ the mountains and swing my axe with all the wrath of a thousand forged blades. Istrum lights up the rest with fire magic. Even after all that, Dreafus and Shadowstep are still goin’ deeper in. Fools, the lot of ‘em.

Gerhard says the magic here’s strong, but not dangerous—yet. Then we see it. Dreafus and Shadowstep are tryin’ to leave—but somethin’s holdin’ them in. An invisible barrier.

By Moradin’s beard… nothin’ is ever easy.