“Damn it man. I’m a Paladin not a pincushion,” I thought as the damnable iron maiden slammed shut around me. Then Iomedae had to get a cheap shot in and have one of the ‘spikes’ get me in the nuts. Everyone laughed as I crawled away but damn it if that didn’t hurt like hell. I don’t know what it was about me, maybe I had ‘Stick it in me’ written on my forehead or something, but then that ghost kept pricking me with magic missiles too. You know, it wasn’t as if the whole ‘He can’t open a door without Vanter’ thing wasn’t embarrassing enough BUT I spent most of the ‘epic battle’ being cured by Grigore or healing myself. Just standing there, “Hey, I Laid Hands on myself, how about a little help.” We should have just got a fire going and made some tea at the same time, maybe we could have crocheted some doilies. Anyways, at least the battle is won and I… I am happy about that and all but I had kind of pictured myself slaying evil not watching evil die with a bunch of people hunched around a book tearing pages out of it! Who kills evil by tearing up a book? Not anyone that anybody remembers, that’s for sure. Well, I am ahead of myself and I should back up and let you know that we did find the freaking keys and given the other option, I’d like to think that the Warden ate them before he was tortured and killed. We also figured out what that creepy Father Charlatan guy was all about, not cool dude, not cool. Kudos on the priest for taking care of that freak. Watching him follow Lazlo around like a pedophile at an Easter parade was more than a little disturbing. Well, our work here is done and I for one feel a little let down. I’ve grown to enjoy our little band of adventurers and as long as that lizard doesn’t learn how to unhinge his jaw I’d like party down with him slaying some badass evil mofo’s on a most regular basis. And, even if Lazlo can’t hit the side of a basilisk with one of those bombs I’m sure he could grow up one day and at least get it in the right square. Maybe…One day…A long time from now…Maybe. Then again, maybe he could be a relief pitcher for the Yankees. At least the sound effect domain specialist wizard can hit anything, all the time, with her ‘Pew pew’ missles, kind of like the way Rogan always seems to hit the hand on the head with his arrows. Speaking of which, I got to mess up a hand myself, that was cool, way cool. I’d also like to think that we could get the town to party down with our funky selves to celebrate the end of The Haunting of Harrowstone. Something tells me they are more of the hearty handshake and, “Thanks, thanks a lot,” kind of people. Boring.