Aelfric's Journal: Deep Guano

I am Aelfric of Hardby, Acolyte in the Order of the Holy Chapeaux of the Church of St. Cuthbert. I shall testify of the travels of the group who have come to be known as the Moat House Men. Whether this moniker was bestowed by the good folk of the central Flanaess or by the adventurers themselves is a subject best left for scholarly speculation. Some have named them heroes, while others would tempt the gods with a villainous accusation. It is nevertheless a tale of weal and woe, as is the tendency of all good stories
It all started with a lowly fruit bat, a creature of dark tidings. One day in the late autumn light I was chasing down a much needed ingredient to a number of my orisons. Guano, as any good Chapeaux or naturalist knows, is found on the dank floor of a cave. I had been tracking (as such) one of the winged rodents through the early evening in a particularly unpleasant region of the Gnarley Forest when I happened upon it's batty lair. My obsession was such that the bones and bits of hair outside the maw and throughout the cavern failed to grasp my notice. Only the sharp point of a goblin pike roused me from my odorous ministrations.
"Wuntle prissste, turdish!" the imp at the other end of the poker squealed. I looked up from my feculent studies to find a band of eight or ten of the little buggers. It seemed that my harvest had come to an end and, indeed, my life in service to the god of the cudgel. A sharp sudden pain at the back of my head and darkness were the only things I recall from that moment.