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."