Walkabout I can tell Lady Tiller grew up in the area. I was invited on a walkabout with her, Ethuil and Noemi. Several days of hiking really. Some rough country, and some creatures I haven't seen before. I have seen the giant bees. The wasps grow much larger... although they seem to rely more on their mandibles than their stinger, so far as I can tell. Their poison... seems to become ineffective in air. So, no way to flask it. We saw giant owls, whose feathered pelts seem almost waterproof and SO quiet. Ran into several troops of bugbears, but between myself and Ethuil... they rarely got off many spells. There were bandits, of which I am particularly wary, that Lady Tiller charged into before their casters could get off a single spell... luckily. We fought shambling mounds... these rotting vegetable smelling plant creatures that seemed to give off an aura of some kind. And we saw xorn! Unfortunately, they were not in the mood for trading... I've heard they trade for gems sometimes. These... I think they just wanted to eat us. With an odd number of legs however, they were relatively easy to trip. We saw the largest stag beetles I have ever seen. And dire tigers... near the harpy cliffs! There were strange batlike creatures that used some kind of scream at us... Dragazhar Bats, apparently. I skinned a few after our fight in the woods with them. And several colors of demons that looked like huge imps... reptilian, called abishai. There were some kinds of spirits. Lady Tiller said echoes... but these were much stronger than those close to old Norwick. What that screamed death... although beautiful... a banshee perhaps? One that she called a Spectral Demonbinder. Many whispers, but both my will and fortitude were strong enough to brush them off. Sinister Allips, and a menacing figure... looking like the images I've seen painted... a Dread Wraith. We even fought a small herd of Nightmare. We had no time to see if their hides were useable. I am likely confusing the order of things. I tried to map, but the forsests were thick and convoluted. We ended up in a place called Balthazar? Or something like that. They had a very nice marketplace. And several caravans. We ended up parting ways in this town. Ethuil and I riding to Deadhorse Inn to sell our gains, and then finally back to Norwick. I will try and sketch some of the creatures. Although my skills in drawing are largely calligraphic. Most importantly, I kept my senses to me... and was not laid low. Although Lady Tiller accidentally knocked me down with a hook of her shield. Unexpected, but interesting and something new to learn a defense to. She was quite apologetic, and I couldn't resist poking a bit of fun with her. I did ask Noemi about the childhood song I was humming, to see if she remembered. The one I think my mother hummed to me as a babe. I am crushed that she did not. I wonder if a magical memory enhancement could be used.

Coming south from the Valley of the Red Mists and Obsidian hills always feels lengthier than it need be, but that may be because of the beating he takes from the Giants and their rabble. He rubs his jaw where the Chieftain laid a fairly tough shot. Glad my helm helped soften the blow, he thought. Just, wished it helped a little more. Pulling lightly on the reins of Nelly’s bridle, he guides her through the gate, past the north tower, and crosses the threshold into Norwick territory. He stops in his tracks when he sees the large upturned mounds, and caved in ground. Something must have made its way out from under the surface. Looking at the tracks in the weeds, he can tell it wasn’t an Umber. He’d had more than his share of Umbers try to catch him in their cone-like traps. This looked… more like something had drilled right through the ground. Looking at the debris strewn about, he thinks that it must have come quickly out of the ground. His eyes narrow when goblin tracks become apparent to him. Gobs working with… some kind of worm? Could it tie into that tribe of Gobs that are snatching up other tribes? The one on the war-path with the bloodstained green cloak on their banner? The one the Redcloaks said were sweeping through the Rawlins? Lence smiled grimly. He had no illusions that the blood-stained cloak was meant to be anyone’s but his. He had sent enough gobs to their hell that he knew his name was invoked in the Rawlins by gob hive-mothers to scare their mewling spawn. But… to attack inside the very Norwick lands… that was surprising. Bold, he thought. It almost feels like a return to the days of yore, when the gobs threw themselves at Norwick’s gates with their hob and bug cousins. Shifting in his saddle, he lets out an unintended groan. Favoring his side, he slides his fingers along the links of his chain shirt and they come away covered in blood. “Huh. Guess those Hillies got luckier than I thought.” …Better get into town before I pass out. Riding into the center of town, Lence nods to the town denizens, smiling as a couple of young children splash around in the creek. They turn and wave to him, and he raises his hand in return, wincing, glad that they do not see the pain on his face beneath his green helm. He stops by the side of the temple, and Lence pulls the saddle off of Nelly, slowly, methodically wipes her down, breathing through his mouth to control the pain from his wounds. She nudges him, knowing that he needs to take care of himself. “You first, old girl. You first.” She whinnys and pokes her nose into his shoulder, eliciting a groan from him. He nods. Looking around, he sees a note attached to his stall. He hangs his head. Nothing he’d rather do than just enter the temple and flop onto one of the cots inside, but knows that sometimes messages are… important. He slowly walks over, nursing another newly discovered ache. Pulling the note from the stall, he opens and reads it. “Purple Worms? Yllalynn? What is this?” Wincing a bit, he heads over and pushes the door open to the Temple, hinges creaking as the heavy door slides inwards. He enters the temple, the warmth washing over him as the door swings close behind, breeze making his green cloak sway as the air gets cut off. Smiling grimly at the staff, he limps to the back, stopping when he sees Logan in the center of the temple. “Logan… where is the Lady Yllalynn…?” The friar looks at him, and Lence can see the answer already on his face. The room spins, and before he knows it the floor rushes up to meet him. He wakes up on a cot in the infirmary, Logan tending to his wounds, casting his medicinal salves to heal him. Lence notes the message from Lady Varya is on the cot next to him. He takes hold of Logan’s forearm as the priest wraps a wound. “Is it true? Is it true? They want me for Yllalynn?” Logan puts his wrappings away. Gives Lence a piercing look. “It’s the nature of the beast, Lence. Did you think nothing would happen of all your culling? Goblin folk may be short and ugly, but their memory is as long as that of the Mastadons that wander the plains.” Lence sits up in the cot, swings his legs over the side, rubs his healing wounds. “This assault on my home will not stand. On my priestess. If they think I was merciless before, they have no idea what is in store. I must gather friends to go find Yllalynn.” Lence will lead a group of adventurers into the Rawlins to look for Yllalynn and the new goblin tribes.

Narfell News: Peltarch Abuzz with Revelations in Bardic Tale and Adventurous Quest Peltarch, April 24, 2024 An unknown bard's enchanting melody has sparked conversations and reflections across Peltarch's taverns and inns. Described as possessing a voice akin to "liquid silver" that complements the small scales adorning her skin, the bard's song has brought forth memories of the Seafarers' involvement in Jessica Whyte's coup attempt among the city's residents. However, the bard's narrative doesn't stop there. Delving into the past with poignant verses, the song highlights not only the loss of lives during the coup but also calls out many perceived failings of the king. These include allegations of being lavish with the kingdom's treasury, indulging in grand parties, and rumors of a succession of women passing through his bedchamber. The melody, while weaving a tale of history and critique, has struck a chord with the commoners, resonating with their own observations and sentiments about the state of affairs within the kingdom. Amidst these murmurs of the past, Sir Galin Reynolds, the esteemed Priest of Tyr, call's to adventurers and travelers. His quest for the elusive silver face masks, lost in the annals of time within the region, remains a beacon of hope for Peltarch's future. Sir Galin believes that the recovery of these ancient relic's could hold the key to restoring the city's revered fountain, symbolizing a renewed spirit of unity and purpose. "These masks, though lost for many years, may yet be found in the depths of foul places across our lands," remarked Sir Galin. "Their retrieval not only aids in our quest for restoration but also serves as a testament to our resilience and determination as a city." As Peltarch buzzes with revelations from the bard's song and the ongoing quest for the masks, the city stands at a crossroads of reflection and action. The echoes of the melody intertwine with the calls of adventure. Stay tuned for further updates from Narfell News.

Ravos as always is often alongside his wife the Lady Varya Tiller, in matters pertaining to the city, and it is known they share many common ideas on how to combat the Giants and other threats to the respectable order and prosperity of the city. He was also seen to add his voice to her comments to Defender captains. He speaks after a long while listening to the address by Varya, and any intentions expressed by the Defender officers. "It's clear to anyone there's a level of organisation and perhaps even unity among giantkin in the region, of late. And they have demonstrated suitable siege-making capability demonstrating their ability to organise to build centres of siegecraft around what is clearly a skilled cadre of engineers or artillerymen. We can indeed push into giant lands, as their posture indicates probing efforts, and practice of certain tactics. I would suspect this is solidify an element of their tribes as deserving leadership for a kind of future action against civilisation in this region." "There are certain options possible, We radically improve our magical defences on the city borders and walls in order to destroy magically or via our works any attempt to build a siege camp including the ability to outrange any known device. We occupy and build strong keeps along the border as a line of defence, involving multiple layers and techniques As I said at a recent guardsman's funeral, we seek to unify under bonds of mutual defence the towns in the region." And we turn our beach-deployment of defenders, into a far more fortified and draining influence on all giant lines of communication, supply and scouting." "Those are the simplest options, anything more complicated we shall have to speak in private, but i call upon all Dwarven kin, and any carpenters or masons who don't yet work within the guild to seek me out as the Daedalus Guild representative, as truly your people have a long tradition in combatting these foes. However, there are more extreme options, and more diplomatic options. However those are unlikely to be well received by many though as i said a moment ago, there are many options available. We can act with the command of the King, or those of common interest can try with consultation with those such as Lady Varya, seek to resolve the threat alone.." [For those guildmembers, defenders, friends or guards who know Ravos best, perhaps they have a hint that he has something completely different in mind... He then heads off to consult with the current councillors and guilds to gather their thoughts as to the threat]

The following song is heard in various taverns throughout Peltarch. Some say that it was first heard in the Pissing Goat, but as Noemi tells it, she heard it somewhere else. The song starts off with a steady intro on a mandolin or lyre. It start with a background and sung lightly In the heart of Peltarch, the jewel of the land, There ruled a young king with a scepter in his hand. His name was whispered through many cobblestone streets, A tale of lavish excess, and opulent elites He wore silken robes, adorned with jewels and gold, While the common folk starved and shivered in the cold. His feasts were very grand, and wine flowed like streams, But little did they know, it was all built on dreams. At this point the song picks up tempo and sung louder (Chorus) Oh, Thalaman the king, with a crown of deceit, You danced in royal halls, your subjects at your feet. A generation lost, their blood in the soil, As you reveled in pleasures, wrapped in silk and foil. Again it switches back to the quiet, sung narration The war drums beat, and young men marched away, Their dreams of valor, their hopes held at bay. You toasted their bravery, and raised the goblets high, But their sacrifice reflected in the tear-streaked sky. Your palace walls echoed with laughter and good cheer, While widows and orphans wept, and mothers shed their tears. The treasury bled, drained by lavishness, Yet you danced through the night, unaware of distress. It picks up beat like the first chorus, with audience participation welcome (Chorus) Oh, Thalaman the king, with a crown of deceit, You danced in royal halls, your subjects at your feet. A generation lost, their blood in the soil, As you reveled in pleasures, wrapped in silk and foil. (Chorus Repeat) Oh, Thalaman the king, with a crown of deceit, You danced in royal halls, your subjects at your feet. A generation lost, their blood in the soil, As you reveled in pleasures, wrapped in silk and foil. Back to a quiet ending And so goes the saga of Thalaman the king, His legacy tarnished, praises we no longer sing. May the next ruler learn from his deeds and our strife, To lead with compassion, and not a lavish life.

Day..... I have lost track of how long I've been here.... it hasn't yet been a year, but it is certainly more than a month. In the monastery time meant little. Each day bled into the other. A corpse was brought in, we tended to it, recorded their name and sent it off to be buried or cremated. Everything none in near silence, the flicker of our hands enough to convey what needed to be said. So different from here... Yet I find myself reflecting on this since despite how close I was to our lord I was there, how steeped in his works.... I have never felt as close to him as I have here. Twice. Twice I have slipped from this mortal coil only to be shunted back to this plane, bleary eyed and dazed as I woke up on a cold hard floor, an unfamiliar voice speaking to me with concern. Lately I have felt closer to my lord, and I can feel his hand on my shoulder, guiding me. This has not been as clear as recently when I ventured out with a group past The Deadhorse Inn. It was a large group, perhaps that should have led me to be wary, but many were people I had ventured with before and I found competent. And they were for the most part. We managed to slay many things that left me feeling a cold sense of dread just looking at them, so perhaps it is ironic that it was mere bandits were our undoing. The first was killed effortlessly before our leader Ax called for a scout to venture forth and see what was ahead, one more adept at blending into the shadows. But we had grown complacent, Axer who had been acting as a... "scout" charged forward to try and lure them back much to the horror of our leader. As he came galloping back... they followed. Bandits. There were a decent number of them, maybe 10 in total, but things descended into chaos as the others met them in battle. From the back chanting rang out and Blue Raven and I sprinted forth to deal with it. That was our error. Magic rained down on us and I watched my companions fall before my sight was ripped from me with a horrible wave of divine power. Blinded I ran, I was no good to them in this state no I needed to retreat and heal somewhere safe before I could come back and help. But with no frame of reference on where I was, I didn't manage to make it far enough away and as I raised a bottle to my lips I felt 5 arrows pierce into my back. I fell, my consciousness fading as I could feel my lifes blood pour from me until I felt his touch once more, urging me to rise. Divine power flooded me and I found myself back on my feet, my eyes clear and my body hale. My god had seen fit to bring me back, to intercede on my behalf, and I wasn't about to waste this blessing granted to me. Slipping into the shadows I began to help gather my fallen companions. Two others had survived, Noemi who had heard the call for retreat and Axer who had seen he was at a disadvantage and fallen back. Together we returned with the bodies and as the other two had seemingly decided that they preferred the Triad, I lent Noemi most of what I had not expecting to see the gold again. As I am barred from that temple, I went to seeing to more mundane matters such as selling items so that we could at least have something from this. I will admit I was still in shock. Would not anyone be in shock when their god goes out of their way to make sure you are safe? Anyways I returned as quickly as I could and found that all had been safely returned, barring Ax who needed ministrations elsewhere. While there was some irritation at my selling of what I had I ignored it, at that moment nothing could drag me out of the feeling of awe I felt. Soon Ax returned as well and what else people had gathered was sold earing us each some small amount of coin. And with that I returned to Norwick, begin pulled aside by the dwarf, Maythor, who gave me a skinning knife he had offered me week previously. I spoke with Ax after and found it rather... insightful if troubling in some aspects. He is of a practical mind but seems to be ashamed of it, idolizing those foolish heroes that if left to run rampant would see us all dead to their ideals. I should most likely speak to him at a later date, I will admit I find him a valuable asset and it would be a shame to lose him to folly. (four names are written in bold each described in various graphic detail on their deaths)

Entry 8 I’ve accomplished so much in this violent land. I know I’ve gotten better. I’ve gone from, “Oh gods…GIANTS!”, and running before I get smooshed to beating them back with crossbow, shield and spear. I’ve gathered some items of magic through the spoils of evil doers and monsters, seen strange lands I’ve only imagined and made some friends. Some of the people here are very generous and just want to help. I’ll have to remember to be one of those people once I’ve made my way. Sometimes I feel like I’m taking advantage of them, and perhaps I am, but there will hopefully be a time where I can afford to give away some of the things that no longer matter to me, but matter to others a lot. A dwarven priest named Thorin has asked me to chronicle some pilgrimage of the dwarves. I’m not sure what this entails, but I told him that I would use this opportunity to pick up their language so that I may record it correctly. I have found the dwarves to be people of boisterous heart, and I look forward to this journey.

After a brief conversation with Thorin, General Theaon can be seen opening the entrance to the Legion Hall and allowing a group of Dwarves inside