So Pegsworthy’s back. Well, most of ’im, at least.
This map that Jeremiah Tollervey ‘ad was the last place some ’alfling alchemist was seen, but since then it’s been reputed as the ‘idey ’ole o’ some dragon or other. So off they all go to rescue their mate Pegsworthy, who they all reckon’s got ‘imself into more of a mess than what ’ee can ’andle. And they’d be right. Down there under the ground, ’ee’s all cut up an’ lyin’ on a slab as this undead alchemist gets ready to sew a tentacle onto ‘is arm an’ make ‘im look like Washin Von Char (whatever ’appened to ’im, anyway? Prolly still sailin’ on the Wormwood, I expect).
So one thing leads to another’, an’ this rottin’ bloke gets chopped into pieces, and they’re back wi’ what’s left of old Pegsworthy. He’s goin’ to sail back down with us in a flotilla – him in the Cassimir Sprite, an’ us in the Scorned Mistress – to Tidewater Rock for Bert’s weddin’.
What an ‘appy day that’s goin’ to be. I ‘ope there’s cake.