Deeds and Danger

A Restov missive draws Iron forth!
And so they ride

Sir Thorne’s Letter Home #5

Dear Father and Mother,

It has been a full year of ups and downs as you may imagine. Surely the news of IronHold’s destruction has reached the eyes and ears of Restov by now! Fear not! For after we put out the fires, we slew the beast that wreaked havoc upon the capitol by mine own command.

It was definitely the worst of times...

I believe I was mistaken in believing, when I accepted the challenge of helping my friends build a kingdom, that its leaders could keep the people from bearing the burdens and facing the dangers that such an endeavor entails. Just because no great land has ever succeeded in this, to my knowledge, did not deter my optimism that the innocent need not suffer.

A God Among Lizards
A Mortal Among Men
Expedition Log
Erastus 25, 4709

The Gnome explorer Jubilast has brought to council news of the whereabouts of a troll fortress to the South. I am grateful after months with no leads on the troll presence that an ally was able to discover their base of operations before they discovered ours.

The Quickling and the Dead
Irresistable loot and even more tempting women...

After several baths and almost an entire 24 bells worth of rest, I finally had the strength to pull myself out of bed. Mostly because I can hear Rigg downstairs literally running laps ON his cell room walls. I should remind myself next time to put him in a square room where such things would not be possible for such a speedy creature…

Into the Narlmarshes we go...
...and deep.

Sir Thorne’s Letter to Home #4

Dear Mother & Father,

I write to you stalking upon the furthest stretch of travel we have ever dared delve into the Southern Narlmarshes of the Stolen Lands. It has been quite a ride, or shall I say stride. My dear noble stead still rests in Iron Hold after a most tragic accident on the island of Candlemere and now I must walk! My armor’s clean and gleaming shine is drastically lessened as of late with grime. I will not delve into specifics, but know that Noble Steed is under the care of IronHold’s brightest and his honor hath been avenged!

Men, Wolves and Nightmares
Oh myyyyyy....

I snapped back to reality on our most noble swan boat, a temporary arcane machination gifted to us by my Gnomish cousins in the forest. I find most folk strange, but my own people perplex me the most of all. I wonder if that feeling is connected to the reason for my separation from them. Perhaps I will never know. But the news that our most trusted beasties had been left with horrible lizard men and ghostly wisps was most bothersome. The others were already discussing a return to the island to retrieve them. For the first time I weighed their safe return against our own. It did not feel good.

Electro-Shock Therapy
Wisps and Wizards, err I mean Lizards...

Expedition Log
Pharast 12, 4707

I find no small discomfort in sailing. The lack of ground beneath my feet is unsettling, as is the awareness of unknown depths below you unseen and unheard. Beasts of the dark lurking in wait for a shadow to pass above. It is not fear I harbor but an annoyance, an inconvenience. I know the waters and lakes of the wilds do not hold friends to us, I know that danger will show its head (or heads, as it were). It is simply the knowing that it will catch us in a moment of weakness, one which we have willingly placed ourselves, that irks me.

Dark Passage
Gnomes, crones, and hydras oh my!

I can no longer voice my opinion of the transpired events out loud. My familiar has turned into a dark conduit of communication that my patron uses to spy upon me. A spymaster who is in turn spied upon, the irony is not lost on me. I digress, allow me to scribe out the following…

The Iron Tide rides East!
New Arena bursts Subprime market!

Sir Thorne’s Letter Home #3

Dear Mother & Father,

I write home to Brevoy with a tired hand! It must weigh a mason’s stone at this very moment. In a month’s time I have fought off the effects of an assassin’s poison arrow and been inflicted by a terrible gas trap, both of which have strived to make a meek and weakened man out of me. I owe my recovery to the good men I am surrounded by! Magical craft and know how have never been by forte, but they have been most helpful of late.

The Iron Horizon
A bloody good time...

Neth 7, 4708

Once again it seems the multitude of events that transpire around me force my hand to put quill to parchment. Our glorious festival of Stag’s End is an unmitigated disaster. I can only hope those insolent upstart assassins spent months plotting the ruin of my festival with as much care and attention that I spent making sure it went off without a hitch. A poisoned arrow, really? How terribly cliché.


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