Entry 28 - Rowing Down the Dreary Stream

Entry 28 - Rowing Down The Dreary Stream.

I haven't written since I left with the Heroes of the Lunarch. I thought now that I found some time while resting in Burmich I might take advantage of catching up on this adventure of mine:

Master Fjerd was more than generous to allow me to stay with him for so long, but I think he was ultimately happy to have me go. I thought it was daring of him to pose as my father. Any of the gossips in the shop could have easily called his blatant bluff in front of the adventurers. He was always kind to me, allowing me to use his sparing gear when the shop was closed. He even gifted me with armor purchased from his own pocket. Mrs. Fjerd was equally kind; though, like her husband, I got definite hints to not get comfortable. She reminded me of my late aunt who would smile at your approach, but would never vary from unthought-out small talk. It seemed impossible to get anything deep or telling from the woman.

The heroes seem as strong as the rumors suggest. I have noticed they have a tendency to deviate from the path set by the church of Avacyn. I'm not entirely sure they are all believers in the goddess. During the even blessings, before we sleep, Arcadius stands respectfully, but doesn't recite the prayers with Terrandium, or Krystal. It took only a short hour out of Thraben before understanding Tarlox's religious convictions. Before leaving Gavony I counted nearly 50 profanities named against various dieties; half of them against Avacyn. I don't know much about Miniri. She seems generally care free regarding religion, but perhaps it is that I do not know her well enough.

I'm not writing this to sound patronizing. The 5 have shown only kindness toward me. I have enjoyed my spars with Arcadius very much, though the last 2 weeks have shown my utter worthlessness with a sword.

... It appear the group has returned from speaking with Arnold "The Knife" I had better get the carts ready.

Fair Travelers

Large beeds of sweat intermixed with long strains of tears down Elizabeth's face as she silently gaze out her window. Krystal stood next to her, scanning the young girl who had just recovered from some sort of nightmare.

"I'm sorry for troubling you, Krystal."

"This is no trouble. Please, tell me what's bothering you."

"I feel dreadful. You have just saved my life and prevented an uprising that would have surely cast the church into a generation of darkness. But..."

The room was silent again. The young archbishop's eyes held steady on some point in the distance that Krystal could not discern.

"Anything you should ask of me, I would gladly fulfill." Crystal said, hoping to gain more information from the quiet girl.

"It was a curse, the storms that surround Innistrad, to prevent us from leaving to greener fields. How naive we all were."

"Do you speak of the storms of the Sea? What does..."

"I thought it would be a joyous day when the sun should shine on our coasts. I thought it would be a day of fishing and exploration, all the luxuries that the old prophets spoke of. Alas, a sore day awaits us. A sore age awaits us and we must prepare."

"What day do you speak of? Again Elizabeth, What would you have me do?"

"It has been written that from heaven shall the end of the world come. First the moon should quake and turn aside. The storms will fade, the earth shall crack and the stars shall be right. The angels shall fall and unto all Innistrad there will be a blight. Ageless and fair will be her messengers, but she shall be eternity's hag, come to claim all wickedness that is her's to bare home to endless toil and pain."

Krystal thought about the words for a moment. "Do you think the Red Heron was one of the angels that should fall?"

"Angels have fallen before, but the Heron's sisters are angry to the point of hate. I have received word from Thraben that many have left the holy steeples and travel north to Stensia. But that is not all. A delegate from the west has brought me word that the sun shines on the western shores and fair travelers have visited the rocky countryside. I fear the prophecy is truly unraveling before us."

"Fair travelers? Well, can the prophecy be prevented? Or stalled at least?"

"Perhaps. I can think of only one way to find out. The answer lies beyond doctrine. Travel with your companions to Nephalia, to Jenrik's tower. The steward there, Martin, should be able to help us understand more of what we face and how to stop it. But be warned, he is not to be trusted."

Svtey 12, 627

Svtey 12, 627

Battle Report: Necromancer Camp Decimated In Northern Burmich

Reports from a detachment of Red Heron cathars confirm that the camp of necromancers responsible for the attack on the city of Burmich three days ago has been destroyed. Two necromancers have been taken into captivity. Their sentencing will be determined next week after meeting with the Burmich Inquisitory Board. A statement from the commander of the Red Heron detachment reports a tail of heroism pertaining to four particular members of the group who he describes as "...being the key in eradicating the necromancer forces." Two of these soldiers were also responsible for holding the West Wall during the undead assault.

The commander continued his report, stating: "I was gravely concerned by the potential of our group when we encountered a camp of lowly bandits. My worries were abated however when we finally ventured to the undead camp. Though I may disagree with a number of decisions our companions made on our short escapade, I have never seen such prowess on the field of battle. It was truly nothing short of angelic... When we finally entered the fort to render assistance, all we found were the bodies of the pagan dead. They are blessed of Avacyn."

When questioned why the four adventurers had not returned with the detachment of Red Herons, the commander responded that "They are faithful to the wishes of the archbishop. They didn't wish to waste another moment before embarking on the next leg of their sacred quest." When asked what the next leg was, the commander refused to report.


Report: Team of Inquisitors To Survey the Remains of Northern Necromancer Lair
Complaint: Man Breaks Other Man's Leg in Forrest Glen Fight Club

A Night Among The Orcs Of Innistrad

The Orcs treated you well, but denied you access to the witch, Morgan. The night was a strange one as the goblins had prepared beds for you all to rest. Wolf howls and strange noises in the night made sleeping difficult. Midst
the screeching of far off ghouls you all eventually fell into slumbers rest.

Visions and dreams fill your minds this first night on Innistrad, whether they are true or simply oddities is unknown.

You awake the next morning, energized and invigorated for what tasks might be before you thit day. But upon leaving your tents you notice that Leon is no longer in your company. You search for him along with the members of your party, but all that remains of your companion is a note that reads:

 "I know now that my father is surely alive and thus I have been called another way. May good be done to you.
 - Leon Mclellan"

The Start of Your First Trial

Your guide leaves you in a wooded area, uttering only a few words before departing. "And so your first trial begins." Orange leaves and light snow spot the forest floor as large empty trees hang over you. The smell of campfire fills the air as cold autumn air nips your nose. The sun just barely cracks through the trees, shedding only a hint of warmth against the morning chill.

It might have been a peaceful moment in the beauty of the forest, if it had not been for the tumult of far off screaming and wailing. Sensing the urgency you drop what unnecessary gear you have and seize your weapons and secure your armor. You make a hasty run to the source of the screams.

Coming over a small hill, a village comes into view, along with a number of other persons racing toward the village. The ones you could see were adorned in odd raiment, but you had little time to judge cultures. What was more important was to determine friend from foe.

As you ran past the first few homes and cottages you enter the center of the small town. Though there were no attackers in view, there were a number of men and women racing about in a flurry of cries and shouts. You grab a woman, shouting an inquiry on the situation, but she pushes you away. You look around and see the others who had entered the town with you, all of whom have a look of on-guard confusion.

After a minute of looking around you notice a small tree at the edge of town. A man in priestly attire standing in front of it appears to be holding something that has him trembling. You walk nearer to him calling out: "Priest, what has happened here?"

The old priest turns to you revealing a small cloth doll. His eyes meet yours and with terror in his voice whispers: "The Kindercatch, he's come again."

As the old man's words sink in you begin to slowly understand the shouts and screams of the town:

"Thomas!! William!! Boys, please come back!!"

"Sarah!! Where are you?!!"

"Tim! Timothy!! No!!"

...

Welcome to Innistrad.