Approached Mt. Ash this morning. Active volcano, with fire and smelt oozing from every crack as we approached the summit. Should have known from the name.
Bandits were after the treasure. At first, we thought them merely Vermlings and Inox, the typical brutish scum, but as we fought ever nearer the summit, there began to be fire demons in their ranks. Like the wind and rock summoned by the Cult, these were no mere fire mages. They were fire.
From the moment a Savvas emerges from the debris of the previous Chosen, it trains. We are born from, made by Earth, but a talented Savvas can master any of the four elements. With each new element mastered, an orb appears in their glassy chest. A body of Rock, with a heart of Glass to contain their greatest power.
I trained as hard as any of my rockmates. Nothing. No wind. No flame. No shard. Not even a pebble responded to my command. I came from dirt, and dirt would not yield.
When the best of us began to contain a second element, I knew they would come for me. Drug me to the square. In front of the whole of the Society, they ripped my heart from me. A heart not worthy. It was only to remain empty.
After two decades of training, I remained a child. A golem. A nothing. A Cragheart.
When the pain stopped, I fled. Before they could….
I was nothing.
The Savvas are savage in their sophistication, brutal in their eloquence. But even they would not condone these demons. These fools summon, ally with elements they do not understand. I must fight them.
At the very peak of Mt. Ash, we found an ancient chest guarded by both Inox warriors and a final fire demon. Mary Sue collapsed from exhaustion and wounds, but not before daggers had found their way into every Inox and Vermling foolish enough to stand in our way. I battled the demon over a river of oozing fire, smiting it with a boulder. In the chest was a pair of boots unlike any I have ever seen. As if made from the lava itself. Grabbing Mary’s bleeding body, and wearing the Magma Waders, I strode back to the road through the river itself. No burns.
She breathes. I shall head for Gloomhaven.
–Balboa
Journeys through Gloomhaven 