20th Sun’s Height
The damned ash storm forced us to shelter in an abandoned kwama mine early this morning. Vikalfar’s still coughing up sludge. Told him to cover his face better. Give me a good blizzard any day over this choking Orkey-cursed ash. Worse, I’m convinced our friendly Dark Elf “guide” doesn’t know this route as well as he said.
We’re already three days behind schedule and supplies are running low, and now we’re stuck here until we can at least see our hands in front of our faces again out there. At least I’m hauling furs now and not anything that could expire. Vikalfar’s babbling about hearing something back in the mine; I’ll go have a look to put his mind at rest. I’d be ill at ease, too, if I was coughing up that stuff.
