((Marty's bloodsoaked diary)) Dear Diary, I'm tired. I'm currently on my way back to the Dead Horse Inn after tracking the mammoth herds. I'm still learning their ways, but from what I can tell, it's mating season, and the bulls are doing a lot of damage. The powers of nature have helped me to cull their numbers, but it is taking a toll on me. Even with Skin of Stone cast upon me, and even after drinking enough healing potions to turn my lips green, my body remains battered. My bones have been broken and set so many times, I feel like a clay jug that has been shattered and glued back together over and over again. I feel fragile. I miss home. The last time I left Peltarch, I was blessed to see that the flower beds had started to bloom. The vandals from the bardic college have decided to quit destroying my work in Peltarch's commons. Seeing the city gloom being destroyed by the colour of those flowers was like a weight being lifted off me. My life felt less futile. I imagine that is what it must be like to give birth. Through the frustration, pain and anguish, the fruit of your labour finally comes into the world, and you instantly forget all the misery that brought you to that point. The flowers will die, however. The glacier is growing. The cold is coming, and eventually the frost will kill the flowers. Even now, some in the city are paying "tribute" to Auril, hoping in vain to gain some mercy from her. I can't hold a grudge against people reaching out for hope, however. Jerrick is at the sacred mountain to slow the advance of the ice, but it won't be stopped. Peltarch will eventually need to adapt to the ice or die. Perhaps that's why I'm down here in the south culling mammoths? I'd like to deceive myself that I'm facing the horrors of the Cold Road in defence of the Balance of Nature. In the past, I would have fought against the servants of the Furies to keep balance and to protect Peltarch, but now I find myself shying away from the fight. It feels futile. At least down here in the south, I can kid myself into believing that I'm doing some good. I am almost out of nature's grace to cast spells, and my supply of potions is spent. I can only rest for a moment, barely long enough to write this entry. In these lands, you are always being hunted. Plus, I need to get these mammoth hides and meat to the Inn before they spoil. Hopefully, the hides will make good cloaks and bedding that may help those living rough in Peltarch. At least that will be something. I'm not sure if it will ease my conscience, however. The Dead Horse is just over a few hills toward the south. If I keep moving, I should be able to arrive before the sun rises fully. May your god love and keep you. ============================================ The bugbear peered across the grassy plain. Off in the distance, he could see a tribe of thomil stone spirits locked in battle just outside the entrance of the Dead Horse Inn. With sharp cracking sounds, stones were being launched from the tall grass, shattering the enormous stone creatures one by one. Before long, the battle was over, and the bugbear could just make out a tiny form emerging from the grass, a mop of shaggy blonde hair on top of a half-sized, female body. The bugbear stretched out a hairy paw, uttering infernal words. A wicked smile spread across his face as he detected the being's "goodness". The bugbear blackguard snatched a live rabbit from a satchel, wrung its head off, and poured its blood out on the ground to form a crude pentagram. Tossing the decapitated rabbit into the centre of the circle, he growled out the words that would summon his "witness". Cruel horns of stone violently erupted from the earth around the pentagram as a blaze of fiendish fire burst out from the sacrifice. A massive, scaly arm appeared from the flame to grasp one of the horns. It hauled itself out of the abyss, a hideous, lopsided creature. One arm was ridiculously oversized, while the other was tiny and shrivelled. The Yagnoloth squinted at the rising sun as it straightened itself. "... Yes?" it asked in a vile, otherworldly tongue. "Witness me! " barked the blackguard. "I have found a good life, and I will snuff it out!". The blackguard was eager to maintain his quota, and truly "good" souls were a rare occurrence. The yagnoloth looked out over the field as he pulled out a tome and quill. He spied Martoushca limping toward the Dead Horse Inn. The halfling leaned down to take up one end of the large sack she had dropped before the fight and began dragging it toward the Inn. "It's small," snarled the yagnoloth, "it will only be worth half." The bugbears' fury boiled over, "IT TOOK DOWN GREAT STONE SPIRITS!" "Hmm .. very well. But you must face it alone." The blackguard took up his cruel halberd and began striding toward his prey. As she dragged her heavy sack of hides and mammoth steak, Marty could hear a bugbear shouting something off to the south. Down the road, she could see a hulking bugbear striding toward her, brandishing a savage halberd. He was flanked by the gigantic yagnoloth, one massive arm holding an open tome in its huge palm, the other tiny hand held a quill. Marty looked at the heavy gate of the Inn, then looked back at the bugbear ... and then back at the gate. All her magical protection had worn off, and she only had a little grace left to cast again. She could ditch the sack and scurry for the safety of the Inn, but a wave of guilt flooded over her at the thought of fleeing. Donning her shield, she rolled her shoulders to limber up, preparing herself for the fight. As the halfling came fully into view, the smile on the bugbear's face stretched so widely it began to crack his corrupted skin. The useless runt had donned her shield and was taking a stand! He quickened his pace into a charge. The halfling raised a hand to the sky, chanting ancient druidic words of power. A bolt of lightning lit up the plain, tearing down through the bugbear. Marty turned and sprinted away, the bugbear roaring as he gave chase. With an amused look on his face, the yagnoloth stayed back, amending the appendix to the bugbears' contract in his tome. Again and again, lightning from the sky struck the bugbear. Weaving between the stone remains of the fallen thomil, Marty sprinted for her life. The stench of the bugbears' burning fur wafted across the plain as he swung wildly at the halfling. She was fast, just fast enough to stay out of his reach. Roaring in fury and frustration, the blackguard swung his halberd wide, holding it with one hand at the end of its shaft. The halberd's blade cut through the tall stalks of grass like a farmer's scythe. The weight of the weapon pulled at the bugbear's arm, and with a sickening pop, the joints of his shoulder and elbow dislocated. The arm stretched as the halberd swung, reaching Martoushca and striking across her back. All of the blackguard's hatred, fury and evil flowed through the weapon into the halfling's body, stopping her heart. She tumbled through the grass, barely able to stay conscious as she struggled up onto one knee. With another brutal swing, the halberd's blade flashed through Martoushca's neck, cleanly decapitating her. Sky - dirt - sky - dirt - sky - dirt The world tumbled as Marty's head rolled down the Cold Road. Her last moments of consciousness were filled with confusion, regret, and sadness. How was she going to get those hides to Peltarch now? A Geyser of blood gushed up out of Marty's neck, now just a stump on a kneeling, lifeless body. The blackguard kicked the kneeling corpse down, then strode over to the road where Marty's head had come to rest. With a brutal kick, he booted the head further down the road, sending it tumbling into a bush. The yagnoloth marked another tally stroke onto the appendix attached to the Bugbear's contract, and then closed the tome. ============================================ [[Mechanically, Marty was shooting on the run, taking the odd pot shot at the blackguard while Call Lightning wore it down. The blackguard was on "near death", and Marty was pretty much on full health, when she was suddenly "dead"! Not sure if it was lag or if I was a little slow staying on the run after attacking with the sling, but checking the log, it was two crits in a row! The first hit was a "smite good". 165pts in total! Ugh.]]

Entry 32 - Collection tallies - so far Norwick- A well-crafted throwing axe Chicken egg Dark Harvest buds 2 freshly picked sin berries 1 scroll of cure disease 1 ring of battlefury 1 potion of clarity 1 rough spell crystal Norwick's devotion to Chauntea is strong, yet I am surprised by the offerings made to the Frostmaiden. My presence is making a difference! Peltarch- 1 wooden cup 1 fish A well-balanced hand axe 1 bottle of frost wine Peltarch’s offerings are pitiful. After last winter’s suffering, this is all they muster? Their reverence is drowned in rain and complacency. Disappointed as I am with Peltarch, there was one encounter in the city that stood out. An eager Half-elf named Vene, fresh off the caravan and all too eager to flirt with the women after a long journey. I was able to squeeze 30 gold coins from him, by forcing a smile, acting sincere and impressed with his "generosity." I used all of my mental capacity for that act and overcoming stomach turning in knots and the sickness. I nearly puked rounding the corner after saying goodbye. The tallies reveal much: Norwick trembles - fearing a harsh winter impacting harvests and delaying next years growth with the pressure of new dwarven mouths to feed; Peltarch forgets; and strangers pay blindly hoping to pierce or thaw out a heart of ice.

Grimvug sits at the Defender barracks contemplating and confused. Mending his wounds and recovering from a resurrection at the Peltarch temple. He woke up at the altar of Mystra with the Priestess and Marty watching him open his eyes. Marty tells him, she found him near the Gypsy camp and he's been missing for a week. Lt. Arniss put out a call for a search party to find him after not returning from patrol. He does not remember much. He does not remember why he was out there or why Marty showed him an amulet of a devotee to Hoar. Apparently he had four more of the same amulets on his person after being resurrected. Rest and light duty will be needed for some time to recover from such a lengthy stay in the fugue, but that will give him time to read old reports and speak with either Lt. Arniss or Sgt. Everard.

A fight for alight. Dear Journal, Been a while since I had some time for my 'personal' pursuits. Among the Cerulean Ranks, they treat me like a doll. 'Do not put yourself into a danger', 'You have great calligraphy', 'It would be a shame if something happened to your beautiful robe', ... and so on. Reports & papers they give me to fill with corrections are numerous, to put it mildly. This evening, however, I've set things in motion, or at least attempted to do so. I've decided to pursue fight against the darkness that inhabits the land, and started with a 'Light' cantrip spell. My boy-friend, Anheim, told me once: 'With weapons one can defeat terrorists, but with education one can defeat whole terrorism. Those who practice terrorism are often desperate, unable to help their families in their poor plight. So they sacrifice themselves in a fight against those whom they believe to be oppressors, causes of their families poor living'. I will use my charms and wisdom in this fight, educating and acting as a diplomat. ... my pet-peeve is so called 'cause for greater good', where priests of some so-called 'good deities' educate their followers to not hesistate to sacrifice the meek when the numerous majority needs to prevail, and there's no other way. I'll try to be like one of more famous of eastern geishas (women companions), who had a smile and kind words even for the meekest and worst. ... I'll not let myself be abused, however. ... We'll see how things will unfold. -- Yours, Chea Allin, a Witch and a Seeker of Enlightened Energies. P.S. I'll try to create some enlightening arts. One could question how Art can bring enlightenment... but well, we are Mind and have Bodies... and looking at the Art can change one's Mind State. I've heard that sometimes Mind State changes can completely alter one's perceptions, and in effect - the whole world in which one lives. People should not underestimate meaning of the Arts, I think.

Attentus's Character Portraits: Chea Allin: click to download. Anheim: click to download. Kenna: click to download. (warning: this will overwrite one of narfell's default portraits, taken from steam workshop). Adeli: click to download.

Awesome stuff!

Lence sits under the awning at the market in Kront as rain pours down. He sips from his flagon as he looks over the map he's been working on. He leans over, a puzzled look coming over his face. What is this, he ponders as he notices a marking on the map. Leaning closer, he chuckles. "Sap." He picks it off, and runs his finger along the clear areas on the map. Hmmm... that hidden path... perhaps it's accessed via the Icelace? It doesn't seem like we could find a way to get to it from the Cold Road. But the Scar has shown itself to be as treacherous as any other part of the Nars. Perhaps it's time to map the pathways to N'jast. Could be worth it to see what all the fuss is about it. It's been a thorn in the side of the city folk up in Pelt for forever. Almost as if it's become some kind of bogan man that parents use to scare their children at night. Too much unknown, he thinks to himself. I need to step up, and map more of the Nars. Ancalima and Jonty have been most helpful, but I am loathe to go into the Rawlins or the flatlands without any guarantees that we'll make it out. He grins to himself. Who knew that the pursuit of knowledge was so dangerous to one's health?

Evil in the Fort Fish. Since years, there's a place in Nars Pass, where monstrous humanoids like Kuo Toa resided. It's a small fort, named: 'Fort Fish'. They were friendly and succesfully negotiated with local authorities permission to find shelter there. But there was some of 'bad blood' between forces of Aura Runedar (nearby dwarven settlement, in a cave in Norwick), Norwick and Fort Fish. Recently however, things did change. About a month ago I was approached by Priesthood of Waukeen (Waukeen is a deity of wealth and trade), from a Temple near my Dojo. The Priestess said that denizens of Fort Fish have been doing bullying innuendo on passing merchants, requesting tribute. This did ruin businesses of small enterpreneurs, of small traders. I, and few others, were asked to deliver the message to the Fort Fish, requesting them to relocate somewhere far, before someone kills them. We went there as requested. With the help of Dwarven Paladin named 'Silver Chalice' we did find traces of evil in the Fort Fish, and conveyed the message. We said that even if not everyone in the Fort is evil, their leaders are still responsible for doings of a few of miscreants in their ranks. We did leave and waited for their decision. Soon we did learn that they found guilty ones in their ranks and put their heads on spears in front of their Fort. Whether they were only guilty ones, or just were blamed for doings of everyone else is another matter. Also, their leader, named: 'Fish' sent us a letter of reply. In response, we went there to handle the remaining ones. Long story short, we found traces of Kuo Toa leaving in hurry, and one guard. We let the guard flee. There was also profaned altar and statue of Ishtishia (Ishtishia, the Water Lord, is a deity of elemental water and purification). We did smash and break both the profaned altar and statue on it, and killed some outsider creatures there. Searching the Fort, we found - in dungeon - two seductive demons! One female and one male. They were immobilie, like paralyzed, and were guarded by tainted goblins, that we killed. We could not kill the demons, even with our magical weapons, but once blood of goblins reached their bodies they did vanish from sight. Searching further we found a poorly made mining excavation site leading down, but we could not descent further. Rest of our party decided that dwarves of Aura Runedar will level the place and collapse the mining. Because 'there might be demons popping from the hole'. We left the place with some treasures, and allied forces of Aura Runedar, Norwick and Peltarch were put to guard the entrance. We'll see how things will develop from now on. .. and ah! I found one suspicious, if powerful, ring coming the goblins that guarded the demons. -- Kenna, 6th Dan Weaponmistress of the Katana Sword, always in training.<br>

@kayleb In response to Marty asking the Defenders: Private Grimvug, of the Defenders, states that he's found what seems like possible merchant wares, crates, barrels and such have been tossed down into the watery pit. He has seen broken crates scattered around the edges, and some debris floating down below. Perhaps it's a convenient area to "clean up" any evidence, but also... he may have a suspicion that any intact crates that can sink to the bottom for certain creatures who may be able to breathe underwater. Grimvug also tells Marty that he's discovered some bones in the woods close to the "Fort." They are human, and fairly new. "Fella's probably been dead for about a month or so. Not much left to identify 'im. Scavangers 'n animals took just about everything but the bones," he grunts. "I haven't heard reports of any missing persons, but maybe askin' around couldn't hurt."