Author: David Barrentine (Page 1 of 2)

Many know of the glory of Fyr’s Shadow. It’s only THE city to go to when one wants to speak to the Gods. It is the holiest city on earth. Quite a few have even heard of its glorious blue clad paladin guard that roam the city trying to keep the peace known as the Order of the Blue Scale. It is their role to deal justice within the city walls however outside its gates is an order that fewer know of, the Monks of the Sacred Flame. These are the few and most honored humanoids that can tend to Pelor’s holy light that shines down on us from atop Mount Fyr. Their order does not only exist to deal with the flame atop the mountain. Only the most trusted are even allowed to know the secret path that leads to its top. It is also them that help deal with encroaching threat from outside the city.

These monks travel the surrounding country side pushing back threats that present themselves, they are known as great protectors for those traveling to surrounding towns within a week of Fyr’s Shadow, and it is their order that train historians and some clerics in their great knowledge and skill. Their presence has always been a great boon to the city since their founder settled here more than 400 years ago. A bronze skinned dragon born named Fun Ki set up the order in an attempt to bring peace to the weary and train those looking to bring a balanced discipline to their lives. This has been the order’s way for centuries as many have accepted their guidance and even more have heard their tales which rival some of the better bards in the region. Recently these voices have been found silent.

With the growing chaos inside the city walls the Sacred Flames absence was easily overlooked but many are taking note now. Over the course of several weeks their kind have not been spotted on the skirting lines of nature allowing horrid creatures to come dangerously close to the city walls including, as Liam, the young horse tender at Swiftfoot Stables says it, a Froghemoth. When asked further about this phenomenon Liam said the following. “Horses in our stables had been disappearing. Signs of struggle were found near the stables and large footprints leading back toward Fyr’s Reservoir had us worried it was a beast far greater than I or my father could deal with.” He goes on to say that a random band of adventurers moving through the region offered to help and within less than an hour’s time returned with the creature floating before them in the middle of the air. “They offered me meat.” He said with a slight bit of excitement.

While this instance was handled by experienced hands, next time our city may not be as lucky with the Sacred Flame walking less among us. Recently a member of their order had been found lying at the crossroads between the Southern road and the road leading to Ash Mire. It was a dire sign and what is more dire is the condition the monastery was found in. This journalist managed to find his way to the monastery to speak with the only inhabitant there at the moment, a rather flamboyantly dressed monk by the moniker Rahn D. S’Vage.

“It was the worst day of my LIFE!” he shouted with more vigor than was needed. “There I was minding my own when OUT OF NOWHERE the creatures overtake our order. THE SACRED FLAME CAN NEVER BE SNUFFED OUT and we stood our ground. WE FOUGHT THE gooooood fight but we weren’t strong enough.” As it turns out the monastery’s master put Rahn in charge of protecting the crypt while the rest tried to hold them off without hope. “It wasn’t long before I noticed my VERY BROTHERS weren’t of sound mind or body. THEY WERE monsters. MONSTERS of the WORST KIND. Luckily ol’ Rahn D. doesn’t fall easy to monsters. I fought em off, EVERY LAST ONE! When the dust settled, the monastery was mine.” Another source has told me that the group of adventurers potentially the same one that helped Liam was found walking from the monastery the day these ‘Shadow Monks’ as they were called  had been defeated. When asking Rahn about their degree of intervention he admitted he may have had a little bit of help in taking the monastery back.

None the less with the order severely shrank and the higher in command atop Mount Fyr we will need to be more wary when traveling these lands. May the Gods watch over us and guide our fates and may they lead the monastery back into its former glory.

Fyr’s Shadow, the holiest and most sacred ground to many religions, faces some of the most daunting unrest since the time of the Atoka war of 712 I.B. Though it is not out in the open, an unrest fills her streets. There is an unease powered by unfettered aggression that threatens to bubble to the surface of the society behind the city walls. Already people begin fighting in the streets over minor disagreeances. If you are keeping up with the events of the realm it is already apparent what is feeding these events; war. The Northern armies patrol ever closer to the Southern shores threatening our coastal cities. Not but a few short days ago they sought to cripple a plethora of port cities by firing in on them from sea. A few of these towns saw a wanton destruction that only cannon fire can bring but the North wasn’t ready for the opposing forces of General Marius Tullen and his soldiers. Tullen came to the city while patrolling the main roads for Northern men trying to make camp upon our shores. Upon coming here he offered aid to the city paladin guard as they were already being stretched thin.

These events seem to be a be of separate happenstance however they have a common connector and that is the leadership of the city’s Atoka, Arnold. His imminence holds true to the city’s personal philosophy and the ideals set forth from the Treaties of Fyr scripted shortly after the city was rebuilt after the Great Race War. He seeks to maintain a neutral city and offers aid to either side of the war. Both northern and southern soldiers weakened from battle have found refuge behind the city walls. While Arnold may be able to detach himself from the politics of ever more aggressive world, others don’t have the ability to compartmentalize as easily. Many have lost friends to opposing forces, even more have lost family from open combat. Their personal grievances manifest inside the city walls searching to strike out against any they assume to hold loyalty to sides they themselves claim none to.

A young family recently moved here from Elowel has been surprised at the problems the see on a day to day basis in the city streets. “It’s expected to see such issues in a large city. People naturally aren’t going to going to see eye to eye all the time but this is too much.” Kallen Ferron admits. “We came here hoping for opportunity but even more so because we were under the impression the city was trying to remove itself from the quarrels of the war as best it could.” It didn’t take long before he found himself between two groups that broke out in violence. “It was the best I could to try and avoid the situation. Even so I caught more than a couple blows.” His face was blotted in uneven patches of yellow and purple. Still Ferron made out better than some. With the Paladin guard being moved throughout the city to deal with so many uprisings they can’t accomplish stopping all of these scuffles some of which only end when bodies litter the streets. “I wanted away from this. The violence, the paranoia. Even from our small town was subject to it. The Northern army somehow managed to get deep into the forests past Glaring to Elowel. There they build some sort of device to spy on us and our town, weird multi-eyed abominations that reflected light even from the lightest moonlight.”

I sought any that could confirm what these machines were or find any evidence if their purpose was to gather intel on Southern towns but none else seemed to have seen them or had heard of them. None the less Ferron’s unease is flowing through all on the streets. Hopefully Atoka Arnold’s wisdom can see the city through as his influence is respected in both realms even during these trying times. Only time can tell but honestly I would suggest staying inside as much as possible while the infighting floods the streets as it seems only a matter of time before these minor skirmishes break out into something greater.

War is a sensitive time when nations deal decisive blows to their enemies in hopes of weakening their opponents defenses. Sometimes, however, the hardest blows can come from enemies who whisper their friendship in your ear as they press their blades in your back. Sadly it seems this is the case for the great Southern Realm. This past morning Aethelhun Ryder, King of Camorr and overseer of this great Southern nation, brought forth a decree dealing with one such nation. The following was what was presented from his court to the public:

“Friends, Countrymen, Subjects of Camorr and this realm! I beseech thee listen! A great calamity has been brought to us when my nephew was struck down by an assassination attempt heralded by our forlorn friends of the North. A deep, personal insult was sent to me in doing this and a resounding slap was made to my peoples’ respect. What is worse, our Emperor who is supposed to rule in these matters is wrapped up within his own hedonism in Orathos, too busy to respond to our heeds of peace. So it would seem war is our only means to resolve this issue but it would appear our enemy is not just on our open battlefields. They are outside our gates, they hide within our temples, they reside within our allied cities taking refuge from so called kings far too incompetent to deal with the encroaching threat or perhaps hiding in shelter of this king’s graces.”

“Punish them, I hear some of you shout. Bring him to justice, others scream. Some even call for his head rested upon a spit. What savage do you find me? That is not my way nor should it be the way of the people. Ours is that of diplomacy. So instead I lend a hand of friendship. I put forth a parlay, I ask that this king, Haunn Abbasi of Kyaht meet me in Camorr and we go over his treasonous crimes. No harm will come of him should he turn over those fugitives, those defectors to the north that are known to hide within his realm, moving freely within his streets with no ramifications. So far my hand has been slapped away and for such I must become more stern and raise tariffs on trade with the island nation in retaliation for their disrespect.”

“I do not do this out of hate, but rather out of love for if I did not love him, I would not offer him this chance to clean his slate and return to our fold within the Southern Realm. Until he accepts this offer, we must show our power by cutting off his trade routes forcing him to only do business with us until he understands who it is he stands against.”

Ryder continued on with his plans further from here lining out what may come of this should Abbasi not turn over the refugees. Readers, we are already at war with a great enemy. A dark future is painted for our nation should the growing schism deepen further between the nations within our own realm. For the sake of all that make their home within these lands may the problem become resolved. I for one will not sleep easy with such sounding clouds beginning to thunder on the horizon.

Problems are arising for the occupants of Thornburrow. Recently the governing leader, Manik Hollensbee, has been seeking help with invading Centauri, dealing with the disappearing townsfolk, and having to regroup all hunting parties. While issues with the Centauri are being brought to the negotiating table and the townsfolk disappearances are being investigated, real fear is turning to reasons why hunting parties are being brought back to town.

Not but about four decades ago a rampant amount of lycanthropy was spreading in the region by the forceful hand of a crazed occult leader. A group of adventurers sought out this group and dealt a strong blow to the occultists with minor causalities of their own. Eventually the main den was discovered and a fierce battle ensued ending with the leader’s head being ceremoniously removed from his neck. With the swift and chaotic justice being served to these creatures, the second in command managed to slip away unnoticed. Why do I tell the reader of these events already well known? It is important to remember because of who has been sent out to deal with bringing back the hunters.

Jareg Stonecliber Swiftfoot Giantsbane Wolfstalker, has been sent out with a small group of able bodied Gnomes and Halflings to bring back our hunting parties. His involvement is what has brought the attention of many in the region as he is one of surviving members of the original adventurers who dealt with the lycanthropy. He had long since retired after his affairs so to see him back in the field has raised concern from many. Hollensbee has assured the people of the town that nothing has happened as to raise any need for real concern but some things had been brought to his attention recently that he needed Jareg’s expertise with. What these things were, he would not expand on saying he didn’t want to prematurely raise alarm if it turned out to be nothing of substance.

It seems, however, that substance came walking back to town with Jareg’s return. A beaten and battered party of four where once stood seven came bearing burdensome news. After taking one of their members to the artificer’s guild to be fitted with a new limb to replace one that had been removed, Jareg and the others immediately sought out Hollensbee to share his findings. It was the next day that news of his findings was presented to the masses and to this journal. It seems Jareg was sent to investigate claims of remains being found near Moonlight Circle where once the group of lycanthropes had set up their own base of operations. It was hoped nothing would come of it but Hollensbee wanted to be certain in case action needed to be taken. What was found was just as bad and potentially worse.

Jareg found nothing but old, dried blood before moving on to continue searching out hunting parties when he and his men ran across a group of adventurers known throughout the realm for their dealings in Camorr, Stone’s Ridge, and Anarya. Jareg disclosed the information of what he’d found and also made the group aware that Hollensbee was interested in having them help with other matters. They then departed each other the next day. It seemed it would have been more fortuitous had they not parted ways as Jareg and his men were set upon by a group of vampire spawn who surprised he and his men, killing one and taking the rest back to a ruined fortress resting in the woods a days journey from Moonlight Circle. It was there that his men were slowly taken away and, forgive me reader for the gruesome details, but they were then torn apart to be feasted on by these vile, Godsless creatures. As Jareg and his men waited each for their turn to meet the same fate as the others, it seemed fate intervened once again having them meet up once again with the adventuring group from the forest.

“We were saved, though I’m not sure how safe we felt.” Jareg says. He claims that one of the members who rescued them, an Elf name Ellifaine diplomat of Falvindar, may in fact be of the vampiric persuasion herself coming to them in the guise of mist and slowly taking on her true form. “She claimed she was not but her abilities to change to mist and the harshness of her nature leaves me in question.” He then went on to proclaim that she may in fact be telling the truth and he is renown for his ability with lycanthropy not vampirism.

For the time being that is not the biggest issue at hand. Hollensbee has set a mandatory curfew in hopes to dissuade any further problems involving vampirism and has set a stricter circle for hunters within the region so that they can make a quick escape back to town if the need arises.

For a few weeks now Artin Hammerbeard has been in the middle of contemplation on the decision of wether or not to fill the role both his father and Jordon Thrush once held. It was said by those that serve within his abode that it cost him many nights sleep. He was seen pacing back and forth outside his father’s study and poured over many documents while determining the correct path to follow. Recently a choice was set and he came seeking council with the king Aethelhun Ryder on the point he reached. The announcement was heralded in from all corner of Camorr that we now have a new leader of our armed forces.

As the announcement was made, plans began for a feast in celebration and a stage was set for an inauguration as he was sworn in to this new position. The city was abuzz with excitement with news of the beloved son of Camorr and hero to those of Ghatass’s rise to this position. Though not as greatly as his predecessor Thrush, Artin is viewed with a general liking with the common folk for his philanthropic activities. His bringing Ghatass back from the brink of abandonment being one of his greatest achievements. It was expected that people from far and wide would make an appearance to the event and so this particular journalist was not surprised with the overall turnout on the day he was sworn into his new position.

Men and women of all races arrived hours before the ceremony to make certain they had the best seat to view to progression but thanks to the city’s wizards, his words were heard throughout the main city square and what words they were. Over his time lording over the building of new cargo ships, bakeries, and other new projects for both Camorr and Ghatass, Artin has grown into the roles of leadership so it came as no surprise how commanding and inspiring he was when he took the stage. After being sworn in he was allowed to address the audience with his intentions in this office. Many that have taken the profession herald back to the days of Camorr when under reconstruction and the greatness of good leadership. Artin, however, spoke of the war with the north and the issues that have arisen with Orcs within the Southern realm.

He claimed the Orcs are a great problem, one he intends to deal with when the time becomes more appropriate but his intentions lie more with the bigger issue of the now open war with the North. His intentions are to begin transporting massive shipments of weapons to those already on the front lines and begin reinforcing their numbers by rallying even more troops to the cause of the south. To show how strong his initiative for this is, he declared that his own shipment line would be the first ones to move these weapons and that they were already being loaded and readied at the time of the speech. He declared that while it was his job to direct the troops and their movement from within the city walls, he would be leaving with the first shipment headed to Fyr’s Shadow to get a better understanding of the situation so that he could better lead those willing to fight for our nation.

Overall, his comments were met with cheers and exaltations from the audience however there were those that seemed to eye his presence with cynicism. We caught up with one of these nay sayers to find out why he wasn’t quite as overjoyed at this turn of events. “He’s a strongarm. He wants what he wants and if you stand in his way, he’ll damned well move ye or move over ye to get what he wants.” The older, brazen dwarf with skin bronzed and cracked like that of a sailor refused to give his name and aside from the comments he’d already offered, refused to say anything else in fear of causing a riot.

An old philosopher once said ‘In means of accomplishment, not a one committed has any value if there isn’t one who stands against it.’ I suppose her words ring true here as well but this journalist looks forward to seeing what comes of his new role. May the Nine Divines watch over him so that he may better protect us.

It is a big world that we live with a wide variety of religious influences. One such unique influences is that of the Horse Lord of Kyaht. Once the deity praised by those that rode the plains just Southwest of where Elenore now currently stands, the influence has settled into the island city. Nowhere is the deity’s presence felt more than in the annual Horse Games honoring the the tribes that once roamed the plains.

The Horse Games are a draw to many tourists seeking entertainment but very few participate in the event if they aren’t already a city dweller. This year was different. More than half of those that entered come from outside the city walls and it made for an interesting turn of events.

“I’ve never laughed so hard in my life,” says one of the townspeople who watched the day’s events from the stands. “A dwarf on a full grown horse? It’s like watching a child compete against adults.” What makes it worse is the Dwarf’s amusing display in the first round. He barely managed to stay atop his horse during the archery contest. Whizzing past five sets of targets, he only managed to strike one target on the very outside. It was a poor display of skill but it was  better than one of the riders raised within the city walls who didn’t manage to strike a single target. It was clear from the beginning of the competition who the favorites to win were; a Wood Elf named Adalae who barely took the lead in the first round by two points against our home raised choice to win Killian Soms. However, by the end of the round, out of nowhere came one of the best performances to ever grace the field for the archery contest from an Half Elf named Elwyn.

However readers, the games are not decided in the first round and when the jousting came about all three who were leading were knocked off their horses. Surprisingly it appeared the Dwarf called Veit seemed to quickly pick up skill upon horse back sending one after the next flying from their mount. In the end it came down to Veit and Horus, another outsider participating in the games. The jousting at the top tier was incredibly intense as blows were matched on each side. Eventually Veit won out over Horus taking the top of spot in the second portion of the competition. At this an obvious swift was felt in the audience toward their outlook of the dwarf and many were disappointed with Killian Soms knockout in the first round.

Again, it is the chariot races that where the real winners are decided. The points awarded at the end of the races have had many glorious comebacks from nowhere. This just happened to be the case this year and the crowd loved every minute of it. From the very get go Killian and Adalae raced as hard as they could both vying for first place hoping to take home the prize of the Horse Champion title. Many of those who came from beyond the city walls to compete fell quickly behind but none fell quite as far as Veit and another of Kyaht’s natives who’s horses did not cooperate at the start of the race. Their folly made for great humor out on the field but Veit quickly gained control of his steed and the fire in his spirit drove his horse faster than any we had seen on the track in many years. From almost last place he managed to overcome both Adalae and Killian as the race neared the halfway point. The race was only half way through and you could tell he knew he couldn’t let up. With steely resolve, he pressed his horse with an intensity the Horse Lord himself would be at odds to maintain moving ever farther away from the rest of the contenders.

At one point near the end of the race one of the riders was flung from his horse causing others to come to an almost standstill which allowed the three in the lead to press ever harder toward victory. Killian pushed as hard as he could to overtake Veit getting right on his heels while Adalae’s horse started to lose speed and she fell behind. At the end of the race Veit and Killian were neck to neck but Veit synched the win by half a horse’s length. It was incredibly as he crossed the line the stands stood and cheered belting out his name in unison. You could feel their feet stomping the grounds rattling the very earth. What started as a very poor display of his ability had turned the crowed on their head. Sadly with Elwyn’s poor display in the races and Veit’s poor display at archery neither had enough points to take first place. That honor went to Kyaht’s very own Killian Soms! It was a close game as Veit and Elwyn were both tied with 21 points but Killian’s overall performance garnered him 23 points and the title of Horse Champion.

What great intensity from those not accustomed to Kyaht’s ways. They may not have gained prestige inside the city but it’s clear to me that their names will not be forgotten. I dare say they’ll dance across the lips of the townsfolk for some time after today.

A special report has just come in. Our boys of the south have just had one of their worst losses and on home soil. As bad as this is to say, we have been fairly evenly matched while on the open seas, but when it comes to the strength and valor on our home soil, we have never suffered the blow of defeat that was recently handed us by the North and by the enemies of the South that have been lying in wait.

It began as a Northern ship ran ashore near Cradleheim, a small fishing village a week’s journey west of Fyr’s Shadow. It didn’t take long before their brutish ways forced all those living within the town to succumb to the will of their leader. Rumors spread of the North setting the village up as an encampment of their own and when troops went to investigate the scene they found the village had been sacked and a meager fortress had been raised in its stead. With Jordon Thrush leading the invasion, it was sure to be a swift defeat as he has proven time and time again his ability on the battle field to out think and most surely outfight his opponent. Initial plans were made and, after setting our troops up in a tactically advantageous spot on the battlefield, the sounds of war were heard breaking the morning quiet. It was expected that as swiftly as the battle began, those whelps to the North would be found surrendering to the better foe but what one expects from time is the last thing that happens. And indeed this is one such time.

It appears that these sniveling cowards, hiding behind their makeshift barriers had sought out an alliance with the less civilized races of the realm. From the moment the horns sounded, the tides of battle did not fall in our favor. Out from the forest came pouring waves of Orcs blood hungry and savage. They sought to protect those in the encampment, or so it appeared. As the South rose up to match the charging band, they were swiftly pushed back. The leader of this band led the charge wearing nothing but what appeared to be a large bird’s feather as those who survived have stated. He swung through the chaos of battle like a well seasoned veteran tearing any who got near him limb from limb. Shouts of “You are not the strongest!” and “None are stronger than our tribe!” belted out above the clamoring of steel and stone bashing together. Right at the thick of it was Thrush beating back all who opposed him blow for blow but even he seemed taken aback by the leader of this clan.

“He just stood there,” says one of the survivors. “I’ve never seen him freeze on the field as he did that day when he saw the Orcs’ leader. I’ve seen the look on a man’s face before when shock ushers all the action away from you but I never thought I’d live to see the day it happened to him.” Indeed he goes on to recount the tale of Thrush meeting the Orcs’ leader on the field. A fierce battle at the heart of an already bloody surprise attack. “It’s like every blow Thrush landed bounded off leaving hardly a scratch. Before anyone could come to Thrush’s rescue, he was already thrown to the ground, the Half-Orc standing over him.” At this I had to question our witness who refused to give his name for it is not a common sight to see a Half-Orc with any standing in an Orc tribe much less at its helm but he did not budge on his description. “I was close enough to hear what he said at the end, I was close enough to know what I saw.”

Readers, what happened next causes mine own heart to forget its place in my chest and instead take up residence in my throat. When asked what was came next our witness says, “He leaned forward and laughed. Just laughed. Then he looked Thrush square in the face and said ‘I’ve taken down Chimera alone and rode with better men than you’ll ever hope to be.’ At that he plunged his axe through Thrush’s skull.”

It’s true readers. Thrush, the hero of the South, was brought home on the back of a cart. With great hope he was rushed to the most powerful priests in Fyr’s Shadow but after several failed attempts it was claimed his soul was lost to the Shadowfell a fate more apt these days than I’d care to recount but this is a story for another time. For now we mourn our loss. First Corporal Hammerbeard goes missing and when Jordon Thrush steps up in his place, he is felled by this beast of creature.

To lead the guard, the King has approached Artin Hammerbeard in hopes that he will put aside his business ventures and take his father’s reigns. For now the fate of this position is unsure but one that is sure is Orcs have been declared an enemy of the South. By decree of the High King Aethelhun Ryder all Orc or Half-Orc found walking these lands is considered traitor to the crown and will be brought in for questioning until the whereabouts of the Half-Orc who fought for the North is brought to justice.

Dear reader, not all that I, Jancho, will report on will be of the current state of affairs of the world around us. Indeed some times the stories can be on new information brought to light of the world we live in. Not too long ago a new room was found deep within the libraries here in Camorr. The room contained several old scrolls which were so old and frail that the wizards of the community needed to be called in to preserve the documents long enough for the information to be copied onto fresh parchment. And let me tell you, reader, the content of what were found were astonishing.

Firstly, history of surrounding areas with names not spoken for several hundred years. History thought long destroyed by the harsh encounters of the the Great Race War. Second were stories of great heroic tales of mythical characters and monsters that speak of such grandiose battles there is no way they can be anything more than bardic enhancements to folk heroes of these bygone times. Thirdly were scrolls of spells in raw form from great masters who perfected the early working of knowledge that all casters practice to this day.

We have Michael J. Wunderblusst, a librarian assistant, to thank for this discovery. A recounting of his happening upon this material goes as follows. He claims to have been rather spooked recently from his job in the library. “Everywhere I turn I swear I hear the fluttering of wings. People working among the library staff claim I am crazy but I keep hearing these sounds. Day after day I find things out of place and at times I swear I hear somebody in the library speaking the devils’ tongue.” His fears drove him into the ire of the head librarian and he was sentenced to clean the dirtier and danker parts of the housing. This punishment turned out to be a great boon for the library as it was this decision that lead to the most recent discovery.

“I was stuck within the dungeons of our library where we keep the historical records of the city and again I started to hear these sounds.” He claims that the speaking in Infernal became more frequent during this time. “I decided to stop hiding from these sounds figure out what they were coming from.” Let it be said the Michael does practice a small level of magic. Though he does not have the ability of the wizards employed by the city, he can take care of himself. It is not recommended that our readers follow in his brazen footsteps to what would most certainly be their doom. That being said he claims that he never found the source of the noise but following it down the dank and dark hallways he happened upon a secret door which hid the room with the content in question.

It will take many years before the content of this room is sorted through completely but already interesting stories are being relinquished to the community. One of these stories includes a myth on the creation of Mount Fyr itself. The story Claimed that some huge creature known as the “Tarrasque” created by the God Veccna in his attempt to destroy a rowdy group of adventurous upstarts came climbing out the base of the newly formed mountain but it was quickly laid waste. An interesting tale surely warped by the imagination of the bards who told the tale repeatedly over a long period of time. The real prize are the raw forms of the spells which the wizards of Camorr will study with great vigor until they can reproduce their effects. When asked what these spells specifically pertained to I was told that among them is the oldest recipe for what appears to be fireball.

How exciting. Hopefully we find out more on this as the documents become deciphered. Until then, this is Jancho keeping you in touch with this crazy world we all call home.

As if the problems of war breaking out weren’t enough to destroy the South’s mighty sea vessels another issue seems to have presented itself upon the shores of a the last islands of the island chain of Kyaht. One of the main lighthouses called the Nightwatch Lighthouse has recently had its flame squelched leaving the rocky shores a hazardous affair for those seeking safe passage to the open waters. I, Jancho, have had the inclination to send one of my best investigative reporters down to find out what has caused this turn of events here’s what we have managed to find out.

After speaking with the sheriff in town, a hard spitting, short tempered, and to the point kind of man, we found out very little. His only comment was that he had somebody looking into it. Considering the amount of paperwork he seemed to be buried underneath we assumed it to be either a deputy or another that worked under his tutelage however, digging deeper we found this wasn’t the case. He had sent his deputy to take care of the job but after days without return and already being understaffed, he set a group of mercenaries to investigate the goings on. We wondered whether these characters had the mettle to handle the happenings of such a task as the cliffs of these islands tend to house rough creatures who will kill a traveler quicker than one has a chance to defend themselves. To find out, we started asking around.

Seeing as the bar is the best places to gather rumors and hear any new changes in town from the locals we stopped in there first. Sidling up at the Slaughtered Ox we found out very little. It was actually quite surprising. That being said, we did manage to find somebody to point us in the right direction which turned out to be the docks where we met an overly friendly Dwarf by the name of Friedrich Silverburn.

“Aye, I’ve heard of those ye be looking for,” he stated. “They’ve the stuff it takes I believe, the right lot of them. Never in my days did I think mine eyes would lay sight on that of a dragonborn in this region so it was something one doesn’t forget.” He went on to tell of a party of Elves mostly and a Tiefling but other than that all he would say was we’d find out if they had what it takes to light the house. This reporter thinks they might for as night fell and he made his way to rest for the evening, in the distance a twinkle of light caught his attention. It seems that ships will have somebody to watch over them again for the time being.

Hello friends and countrymen. It is I, Jancho. That’s right. It’s been a long while since I last spoke with you. I’ve spent many a month in stockade for speaking ill of certain figures. But my lesson has been learned and I am here again to bring you the latest interesting happenings from around the world and there are several things that I have missed that I find I must now make a point to document.

Firstly, with this issue, we need to discuss a serious undertaking with the loss of Anarya’s most prominent family. The Lannis family had been missing for well over a month. Sources say the head of the family, Darian Lannis had moved underground when he found his son, Dorian dead on his doorstep. Rumor spread and ran wild about the potential murder. This humble journalist however, couldn’t find any news on the transpirings of this event. Those that had claimed loyalty to the family have either been hung for their involvement or have fled the city. It has made it incredibly hard to find anything that happened before the fall as every potential witness still alive either can’t be found or refuses to speak. Those that we did find wouldn’t even relinquish their actual names upon meeting. One thing for certain can be said though, this family’s time in charge of the house has drawn to an end.

Not but a couple weeks back the body of Darian Lannis was found swaying from the front of a temple in Anarya. The temple itself just two days prior to his body being found had been set on fire with all of those inside unable to escape. Their bodies were found in the charred remains of the fire. It is assumed they were caught in the flames and their lives were lost from them. Nobody knew the cause of this fire. Some said it had to be sign of the change that was coming to Anarya with the loss of the house of Lannis. This was the church where they worshipped. Though it does seem unlikely the gods would smite a holy house to wipe clean the slate of the city from one family the sentiment has been taken up by the people and they continued to hunt down any remaining loyal to the Lannis house. The city was trying to be kept in some sway of order until the Camorr guard could arrive to set up new rule.

According to local sources Faramir Lannis, the rejected son of house Lannis, stood amongst a crowd of people directing their attention to the body of his father the day after it was found and claimed that more would join the ranks of his father if they were caught meddling in the same affairs. With that shouts of “Kill the Lannis” were heard to emanate from the crowd. Faramir rejected his house name on the spot that day choosing instead to change his name to Faramir Stork to drive a separation between him and his past. Many don’t think that’s enough to account for him not joining the ranks of those hung.

“It’s not right,” claims Ned Sinnamon. “He bears the family name. He’s just as guilty as the lot of them.” I ask what exactly they were guilty of. “Druggin’ up the countryside. Turned several farm crops to them opiums for their shops and money for their pockets. Didn’t care that it took from the edible crops of those around. Just did it anyway. Those that opposed them, most weren’t heard of again.”

Now it is true that Faramir was caught in the middle of the drug rings that have plagued Anarya for some time. Some claim that’s enough evidence to prove his guilt and demand his head along with his father’s. Faramir’s involvement left several people dead some of which were a part of the guard moving through the area, but he was caught and sentenced to hang. Whilst imprisoned, he gave up his life of crime and began following the noble path of the paladins that try to keep order in the realm. He had not returned to this city for some time so it seems pretty clear he had no involvement past what was already accounted for. We reached out to the paladins that trained him for comment on his character. Most claimed that they’ve never seen such anger in a paladin before towards their own family. “His rage is what led him to take up the oath of vengeance.” Brodrick Nance, leader of the paladin order in Camorr, went on to say, “If anything, his father’s body was swinging from the church bell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Faramir’s hands had rope burn from hoisting him up there.”

It is for each to decide how they feel about him, but officials have arrived to town and started establishing order again. For the time being conversations are being held over who should take over the leadership of this town. Until then the small militia of of men will hold martial law over the land. As for Faramir, it would seem that he is in good standing with the those in Camorr. They did not find him guilty of any of the crimes of his family and he was last seen leaving the city shortly after the military force’s arrival.

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