June 269

Summer is in full swing, the land is lively with farmers tending crops, herds of sheep are getting their first shearing for the summer, and many are out and about enjoying the mild summer for the month. 

In Clan Steinjottun packs are beginning their annual hawking tournaments, showing off both their skills at breeding and training of the birds so many depend on in Mardrun. While some trainers are showing exceptional skill there are a few that are standing above and beyond the rising stars. One of the favourites for getting to the final rounds is a young woman from Pack Bloodhawk who has shown exceptional skill at training more advanced commands to her partner in the tournament. 

Off in Clan Ironmound, repairs and recovery is slow but steady. Some villages are already returning to normal day-to-day routines while others are getting closer towards that goal. The production of arms and armor is also slowly returning to its former ability to meet the high demand for quality arms and armor. However, villages that don’t focus on production of some sort still are in dire need of attention and aid, and while they are receiving support from the clan, it will take more of an effort to help repair and return those villages back to normal.

In Newhope, life is busy at the merchant guilds as they trade and exchange goods at high prices within the city walls. Many smaller trading companies are making bags over bags of silver with the current demand for charcoal. Some others are cashing in on the higher demand for brocade and fine fabrics. Whatever the item is, it is apparent that there is a large economic boom going on in the City State, and no clear idea when it will end. 

In the Riverhead lands, small villages of humans and ulven have sprouted up. However, none of these small communities are tied to any major pack, clan, or city state, but are rather controlled by either wealthy merchants, bandit lords, or warlords. Thus turning the once ancestral home of Riverhead into lawless lands where every individual has to fend for themself. This of course is an outrage to Pack Riverhead, who were making plans to start resettling their ancestral homes. Some groups of Riverhead even started to lead  raids and fights against these new settlers. Which just adds more to the chaos in these now unforgiving lands in the middle of Mardrun’s northern clans. 

There is an odd rumor floating around this month, a rumor that seems to border on that of folktale and spans between Balie Onair and Starkhaven. This past month two individuals, one Human and one Ulven, travelled from tavern to tavern issuing drinking challenges to any who would dare. Those who have said to witness these challenges are baffled by the sheer amount of liquor the individuals would drink. Even more unbelievable is that these two individuals won against all challengers, except against themselves. Towards the end of every story, the two would challenge themselves to drink, shot per shot, bottles of Lunashine. They would then finish their bottles and then match off into the night cheering and laughing. Leaving those who said to have been there, baffled as to who they were and how they were even still alive.


Name: Fiep

Played by: Joel Robertson

Race: Syndar (Serous)
Gender: Male
Age: 63 (269/2020)
Class: Cleric
Occupation: Barkeep, Enforcer, Taskmaster

I am a drop of water in the crashing wave, a dagger in the fortress armory, and an old page in the library; but I’m accepting of these thoughts. My purpose was never for greatness or to be a shining beacon. It was never to be written in history, and definitely not to be chosen by the gods. Known only as Fiep now I carry only my dreams and where fate lands me is where I will rest.

The fall of Faedrun was something of an experience. I can still feel my fingers shake when my memories flood back. It almost feels like another life, which I have taken to heart. I view it as if it was but a long dream; remembering my parents and pulling experiences from it, nothing more.

From the moment I stepped off that seafaring vessel I became lost. So few of our race had made the journey, or even had the chance to start it. Even over here, conflict was still a normal occurrence from the mix of panic, stress, and unknowns of the new world; so I guess we know what fate’s only consistency is. My dream experiences left me with few options for my life, most of which involved creating or solving violence. I couldn’t join the military, I’m afraid that my dreams will become reality again if that happens. Luck found me somewhere else, as one night I found myself walking the streets listening to the city sounds when I heard smashing glass and shouts from a nearby tavern. Two drunkards were attacking the barkeep for cutting them off. I’m not one to prefer violence, but I aim to protect others who do not deserve it. I blinded one of them with a flare and forced the other to the ground by targeting their knee with my walking staff. With no pause I brought the other one down in a similar manner and soon after the barkeep jumped the bar to help me keep them pinned while a patron grabbed the New Hope guards. The one thing I didn’t expect from this was a job offer, but I found myself favored to accept it.

I had to be trained in barkeeping first, but was told that he chose to hire based on the man and not the experience. I didn’t do well at learning the variety of drinks but found myself skilled at inventing my own mixes as needed. After that I was working full time with serving drinks and handling difficult customers. Sometimes I can only remember what I did in those intense moments like they were a dream, perhaps because of Faedrun. The tavern owner was the first person to call me the name “Fiep”, as I did not like using my own name. The name Fiep came from his joke about how I would fight and barkeep, nothing more. From my work I made many connections and business friends, finding myself taking on side jobs out of interest and to make some extra coin to send to my parents; these jobs often included killing rodents, guarding packages, and catering public events.

I continued this life for a few years and got pretty good at it. My name became well known in this sphere and my services were in decent demand, turning me into more of a taskmaster. This allowed me to choose a bit, so luckily no more killing rats in basements. It was at this point that I got a job from an unexpected client, a noble. This was more than I ever expected as I was ready to live out the rest of my days in simplicity. A man who owed a great debt was hiding in the city and the noble knew where he was, but wanted someone to catch him without causing commotion. Well luckily for me I knew a tavern owner in that area, so I took the job. I informed my associate of the plan and paid him a cut, which then I worked at the tavern for a couple of weeks waiting for my target. Eventually he showed up at the tavern and all it took from there was waiting for him to get drunk enough and then help him home, more specifically to the nobles home. Job done clean and quiet, walked away with payment and a pleased noble. I guess news traveled in his circle as I received more job requests from other reputable sources.

There’s an odd feeling I could never shake though. They saw me as a taskmaster but they didn’t see me as a living soul. They saw me for what I could do for them as a tool and nothing more. I’ve now realized that I found that out too late though, as repetition found me and I simply became what they thought of me. I reached my peak and would be nothing further than doing these jobs for them, with me as a living being never being in their concerns; thus ceasing to be of my own concern as well. Sometimes when you live in fog for so long you forget what clear skies look like and just accept the fog as your existence. A whole year of my life just feels empty when I look back.

I’m unsure if it’s fate, luck, or coincidence but I was pulled from the fog. I thought it was just another long term job, but this one is different. They’re not just hiring the skill but the person behind it, and it caused me to realize the fog that I was in and that I could be more than where my life had been led and treated. I think I’ll take their offer and see what happens, either way I have a lot to reflect on. I’ll be honest that I’m a bit nervous, this is my first time leaving New Hope.



Played By: Jake Segor

Half Syndar (human traits) age 52


Class: Cleric

He stands upon the mound of dirt he dug up, looking down at the figure resembling a corpse below him. The hardest part was laying out all of the pieces in the hole, he found the act of making the grave almost cathartic. Tilting his head up he looks upon the grey sky hoping that it would rain, it would feel right if it did but maybe it’s more poetic that it hasn’t. Inhaling, he picks the shovel back up and throws the first scoop of dirt over it’s chest. While he shovels he takes time to give a silent obituary, recounting what brought him here upon this hill.

Long as his memory serves, he lived among the monastery. He never knew his parents, all he had been told was that his mother was a syndar and his father was not. They left him with his name and that was all. Growing up in Saresh as an orphan wouldn’t have made for a promising start to life, looking back on it he wonders how his life would have differed if he wasn’t brought in by the monastery. It was a warm place. He was brought up among the teachings of Mahsai and only knew how to believe, no matter what it was in.

The monastery offered a place for him to grow spiritually, with some help he quickly became adept at channeling divine energies. He could feel the warmth of the gods flow through him and took a great passion in growing as a conduit for their magic. His learning was not limited just to that though, as he grew he learned a great many things stretching from the basics of commerce to mending wounds. He learned to play music and appreciate art. Of all the things he learned, one thing he found particularly satisfying was sword play. The heft of a large sword in his hands felt like a calling. His talents shown and he began to dream of a day where he could learn the sacred ways of the paladin. All of his life he had known of the threat of the undead holding siege to his lands. He had seen clerics and warriors of the Ma’kar Dominion and Vandergon travel through Saresh on their way to fight, and heard of how many would not return. He would make his goal to put an end to the rising dead with his own hands.

When he came into young adulthood he found his way to the battlefield. He had not yet risen highly in rank but he held confident in his skill not only with a sword but with divine powers as well. His unit was a young group, many of them were individuals of other monasteries, some that he even called peers. The confidence that they had held then, he now recognizes was arrogance. They pushed their way against lines of undead, dropping many of them effortlessly with divine righteousness. As they were ready to call their first folly a success a second undead unit came over a hill, lead by one wielding a sword made of curved and blackened bone. They stood their ground, not ready for what was actually in store. His memories of what happened next are foggy, maybe a way of preserving his own sanity. However he can clearly remember regaining consciousness after a violent loss. Surveying the field and seeing a second May’kar unit that pushed the enemy away, but not soon enough. The majority of his unit was lost, most of the survivors had lost limbs or suffered other substantial damage. His body was gravely wounded and would take the next year to fully heal up.

The fire in his soul was not put out from that fight, if anything his will to fight was emboldened. His abilities to channel divine energy however, was weakened. It grew harder for him to call upon the gods in true earnestness. He would claim that it was due to his injuries, even believing it himself on some level, but deep down he felt resentment for his loss at that battle.

Years go by and he rejoins the battlefield, smarter and hardened. He grows to despise the undead and penitent more with each battle and lets that drive push him through to the next day. The more experience that he gains on the field trains his discipline and he learns the ways of tactics and command. Each day begins to feel like the last, pushing undead back and being pushed back upon. Then the Bishop king rose.

He was away on the front lines for some time while it happened. Word spread out about the Bishop King and he wanted nothing to do with a land full of undead. A group of like minded soldiers in his platoon made the decision to join Vandergon’s lines, it was a hard choice but he followed them. He took only what he needed, his sword and armor.

For years he continues to fight, now against what was once his own people. The first year of this endeavor was emotionally the hardest. Torn between the sadness of fighting his own, the anger that they would turn in such a way, and at the same time feeling that he was wrong to fight them. Now and again he would feel a tang of guilt, he would catch himself thinking that there had to be a good reason the May’kar would do this. He was quick to quell these thoughts, reminding himself they were his enemy. By the end of the year he numbs himself of these thoughts and just fights.

As Vandergon pushed into Saresh, he was there. Cutting down anyone he was put in front of, throwing their bodies to the side to be burned. The dry air of the desert can carry a smell quite far when there’s nothing to interfere with it, it only made the funeral pyres that much more unforgettable. He did not see the end of the campaign against the Dominion though. Two weeks into the push he took a spear to the shoulder. Later he would be told that he was lucky to still have an arm after taking such a strike. He travels south for medical attention, this was the last time he would leave the city he thought he loved.

Word travels that boats that have gone out found a new land, a land free of undead. A call is sent out for able bodies to guard caravans heading to boats off of Faedrun. Even in his injured state, he still attempts to be strong enough to guard and finds himself boarding a ship when they arrive. The seas are anything but calm but compared to the day to day horrors of a battlefield, he would have rather take the boat.

When they dock in the budding colony of New Hope he has nothing. He hears that they are looking for strong hands to fight new monsters of this land, and he wants nothing to do with them. He finds a hill near a pond, removed enough from this colony, where he builds a small camp under a willow tree. He spends the following months in solitude living off of what he can find and sorting through the remnants of thoughts he held on Faedrun. His will to fight had been extinguished, the strength he once held had left his body, and the last of his faith had been snuffed out.

He eventually attempts to rejoin society. Unable to commit himself to a trade, he travels and plays music. He had paid enough attention in his youth to know how to play most stringed instruments, but never thought it would be a lifestyle in his future. He drifts from place to place for years, living off of tips and scraps, until the settlement of Serai was founded. He rejoined his people but he never truly felt at home. If anything, the only benefit there was that people were more willing to feed one of their own without asking for much more in return. When Bos Mezar was revealed to have been handling undead, he knew Serai was no longer a safe place and returned to a life of drifting.

He still traveled with his sword and armor, its weight serving as some type of reminder of his past. As he packs it up to leave Serai, he decides that it’s no longer a weight he can carry and makes for the camp he had made when he first arrived on Mardrun. It was makeshift camp to begin with, so he was not surprised to see that after years it was not recognizable. Time and weather had worn down most of it, save for the willow tree that stood over the pond. He decided it was time to bury the life he clung to. He dug down next to that tree and laid out a grave for the armor and sword that he once donned.

The dirt is easy to pack down. He levels off the pile, ensuring that there’s no visible mound of a grave. A bead of sweat falling down his face stings as it gets in his eye and he wipes it clear. For some time he just stands and stares at his work, almost waiting for it to do something. He throws the shovel into the pond and turns to leave, looking back one final time at where he buried the boy who dreamed of being a paladin to save the world. He needs a drink.

May 269

The world has finally thawed from the grips of spring and have started to enter the green of summer. With it, comes the waves of activity that erupt from the people who have been so tired of being cooped up.


With the murders in Newhope over the past few months and the body count now in the twenties, a man hunt is on the way to find the unknown killer. However, as soon as the murders had started they had just as suddenly stopped. Nobody has heard of an unusual death the entire month, and many begin to worry if the killer is waiting to strike again once they feel the opportunity is right.


Clan Nightriver and Clan Goldenfield begin a herculean task of creating a series of interlinking roads for their clans to create easier tradeways between and through their territories. Worker’s begin at the Pass and under armed guard as they surely but slowly proceed deeper into the lands. Other than some minor attempts by bandits from the mountains, the month goes by without a hitch in Nightriver territory. In Goldenfield the workers are able to work with less stress and with higher productivity as they begin from one of their preexisting roads and branching out to reach other villages and towns which are spots for potential trade hubs. 


Bandits activity is beginning with the release of the cold, threatening the trade routes. What is noted by multiple merchant guilds, companies, and organizations is the heavy presence of bandits in the Riverhead lands. Multiple companies and armed guards have either left the area with multiple arrows in their carts or themselves, or have been turned back due to the high activity. It seems that these ‘unclaimed’ lands are becoming a new frontier, and it is being controlled by bandits and thieves.


The pressure in the north along the Shield, specifically in Clan Whiteoak have had their numbers pressed over the past two months, with the aid of many volunteers and brave warriors they were able to repel the waves from the abyss known as the Dirge. However, those at the outposts continue to worry about what awaits them with the warmer weather and how they will handle the next wave. Reports indicate that they are starting to wear down and supplies are starting to wane from the last shipments. There is good news though, Clan Steinjottun and Clan Axehound are sending reinforcements along with wagons of supplies to help bring aid and reinforce the defensive line. 


The devastation of Clan Ironmound is slowly starting to reverse as volunteers and donations start to trickle in. Some groups are even sending groups to help with both supply dispersal and physical labor in helping rebuild. While it wasn’t as much as the prideful clan would have wanted, it is plain to see that Clan Ironmound is grateful for the help that they are receiving in their troubled time. However, there is still months of work ahead of recovering and rebuilding the villages along the affected mountains.

May 2020 – A Well Earned Rest at Ti’Volar

Event Info:

With the situation at the Shield of Mardrun turning quite brutal last month, the combined forces of Ulven defenders at the Shield outposts and volunteers and adventurers coming to help were able to work together and defeat the significant Mordok force moving south. Numerous attacks crashed on the defensive outposts, putting their defenses and the mettle of the warriors stationed their to the test. Large bands of Mordok moved past the Shield to the south, heading into Ulven territory. Many groups of warriors and allied forces were dispatched to meet them in the field and defeat them. Outside of the protective fortifications of the Shield of Mardrun, these battles were brutal and bloody. Almost all of these Mordok forces were defeated, driven back to the north, or scattered and routed.  However, the toll was heavy as many Ulven warriors and allied soldiers were wounded or killed. As things quiet down across the Shield of Mardrun, a coordinated effort has been made to tend to those wounded and in need of care.

The small village, Ti’volar, in Northern Clan Whiteoak territory, was spared the Mordok onslaught due to the response of Whiteoak warriors and their allies. The village has opened its homes and hearths to all to come and rest, have their wounds tended to, and tradespeople work their skills to help others. As always, a small economy rises from these concentrated efforts and merchants have come to interact with the efforts.



Event Summary:

The month in the village of Ti’Volar passes with a well earned peace. Throughout the small village boisterous voices recount their tales of battle and greet friends who have flocked to the small village for rest and recuperation. There is a general air of celebration and camaraderie throughout the village with many people taking this chance to drink and tell stories. Several areas of town have sprung up to act as impromptu taverns for the throngs of visitors and other areas have been set aside for tradespeople to work there craft. These areas are quick to draw the attention of merchants and professionals from all over Mardrun and by the end of the first week many of these areas set aside are full to the seams with people looking to aid and profit off of the need for services.

All through the month rumors and tales circulate through the village. Some are lucky enough to hear a snippet here and there, but in the end there’s no real way to fact check the veracity of any of these stories as they run rampant through the area. Seems as though the adrenaline from battle hasn’t fully subsided, this mixed with the flow of alcohol makes for very chatty warriors.

As the month winds down the people who had come to this village see that their armor is repaired and their wounds healed and though the battles of the prior month were brutal, but by and large it seems like the wounded and battered are able to walk away on their own strength. The combined efforts of a considerable number of adventurers and some of their followers has made quite an impact. Proper triage of wounds of various severity, the constant strikes of hammer to anvil day in and day out, and even the coordinated efforts of life saving or even life improving surgeries keep a constant business alive in the town

April 2020 – Skirmishes and Contracts

Last month in March, a combination of a sizeable force of Mordok approaching and attacking the Shield of Mardrun combined with a mysterious illness that has spread and caused issues among the colonies and settlements has delayed Celestial Arragones expedition into the swamp.

While the Mordok force is nowhere near the size of the one during the Dirge Swamp war, it is large enough that constant hit and run tactics against the Shield could make a significant impact. Various Clanleaders and Chieftains of the Ulven are calling for aid to reinforce the Shield. Warriors have been seen in various settlements calling for volunteers and stoking the heart-fires of those looking to earn glory. The defenses of the Shield of Mardrun hold, but make no mistake… answering the call to arms and heading to the Shield to help will most definitely be dangerous.

Prince Aylin has been very busy lately being involved in the various economic expansions in and around Aylin’s Reach. With former Squallborn families getting setup or moved to new locations along with Clan Stormjarl solidifying their hold on the new territories, there is a lot of opportunity to get involved in various deals going on in the area. Representatives to the Prince have been open about several opportunities and are asking for people to signup in exchange for coin.


The Outcome of the Shield Defense

The last several months in the collection of outposts that make up the Shield of Mardrun had been largely quiet. Mordok forces occasionally made the journey south to apply pressure on the defenders, but concerted efforts to pass between the outposts were generally spotted by scouts and hunters with enough time to muster the necessary forces from the neighboring outposts to meet the enemy in the field and repel them before entering the civilized lands to the south. Occasionally some small count would slip through the gaps, but never in numbers high enough to wreak extended havoc. These small forces were always easy enough to hunt down and clear out before they made it too far south. Things changed in the end of March 269.

Hunters and scouts returned to their outposts north of Clan Whiteoak along the eastern areas of the shield, bringing with them reports of several Mordok forces marching south. Some are seen accompanied by their mysterious leaders clad in colors running from blue to teal while others seem to travel in more traditional packs. The southward moving forces were reported to not be to the scale that as seen in the Dirge War push of 267, but the numbers were significant enough to require additional forces on The Shield. Fortunately the hunters arrived with enough advance notice to allow the leadership to put forth a call for aid. Throughout Mardrun, the call was heeded by both Ulven and Colonist alike and with haste individuals and trained combat units marched north to defend their shared home.

The first few days along The Shield were largely quiet. Some Mordok had been seen in the area, but it seemed that the larger forces were still in the midst of their southward march. Some people spent the time sharpening their weapons and patching worn areas on their armor while others made themselves acquainted with their various comrades. Reports of the approaching Mordok traveled quickly throughout the ranks and with them stories  of the sightings of the teal-clad leaders. Many of the veteran Ulven of the shield had taken to calling these special Mordok the Beinbakadur. This word  proved difficult for many colonist tongues, but the Ulven were quick to offer a translation: Straight-Backed.  When the Mordok did come, the defenders were ready for them.

Throughout the eastern Shield, defenders marched from their outposts to meet the Mordok forces in battle. By and large the defenders made sure to keep themselves within accessible range to their home outpost and as the battles ebbed and flowed  this strategy proved to be incredibly beneficial for the combatants. Through the battles, many were wounded, but with the ease of access to support units, relatively few lives were lost.

By and large it seemed as though the Mordok had come with a strategy of their own. A handful of the Beinbakadur stood as something akin to field commanders shouting orders over the units in their command. The Mordok under these leaders seemed to fight with increased adherence to military tactics, but also with greater disregard for their own lives. Willingly these Mordok would throw themselves recklessly into the fray. Were it not for the close proximity of these battles to nearby outposts, an inordinate number of combatants would have lost their lives to this fanatical onslaught. Unfortunately however, a focus on immediate safety can lead to a slow response to new situations.

As the defenders remained in relatively close proximity to their outposts they were slowed to react to a series of Mordok forces that avoided scouts and patrols by taking a path that led through the open and inadequately watched areas between the outposts that make up The Shield. Without anyone to stop them they were able to spill southward into the northern reaches of Clan Whiteoak. In their efforts to repel the attacks from the north while remaining near to their outposts, the shield defenders were slow to notice this penetration, but when they did they rallied available units as quickly as they could to hunt these invaders down as the rest remained to continue to hold back additional forces. By the time the various units caught up to the Mordok they’d already managed to rampage through a handful of settlements, leaving bodies and destruction in their wake. 

Throughout the northern reaches of Clan Whiteoak the defenders of The Shield met the invading Mordok in battle. These battles were quick and decisive as the defenders managed to slay or rout their enemies back toward the north where they were cut off and slaughtered. Meanwhile to the North the allied defenders took the upper hand and were able to rout the pressing Mordok. In the end the defenders stood victorious over the Mordok invasion.

All across the shield, defenders began to slip into celebration after a long and hard battle, but this celebration was cut short as their comrades returned from the south with news of the civilian slaughter that had taken place before they were able to catch up to the Mordok forces. A somber mood fell over the defenders of The Shield as all were given a forced reminder that there is no such thing as safety in war; there’s always a cost.

Several groups of scouts and hunters were dispatched northward to verify the enemy rout and in the meantime the remaining defenders set to the task of building pyres to tend to the dead. When the work was done Ulven warriors and daughters of Gaia throughout the shield led people in rites of remembrance before encouraging them to tell stories and revel in the victory of a battle hard fought and well earned. Well into the night people shared stories of their exploits on the battlefield and boasted the deeds of their friends and comrades, but overall one story seemed to stand out from the rest. A tale of a Whiteoak warrior who managed to slay one of the Straight-Backed Mordok spread quickly throughout the shield over the following days. He tells a tale of a  brutal fight where he and several of his comrades fought this Beinbakadur and in the end only he was left. He claims that they rained blow after blow down upon their enemy who parried and blocked them with ease that they’d never seen and in the end it was nearer to dumb luck than skill when he managed to drive a dagger into the beast’s heart. Apparently this is where things grew even more interesting. The warrior tells of how the Straight-Back stumbled away from him and fell to it’s knees, raised it’s hands toward the sky and bellowed some words he did not understand, but with such visceral emotion that he will never forget them. “Nauhk-BEE-raav MOH-ah-vis.” As these words were spoken the Mordok fell to the ground and it’s body began to immediately rot and decay.

The following days along the shield were quiet as everyone waited to hear word from the various scouts and hunters that had been sent north to verify the rout. Eventually reports did begin to trickle in that the Mordok as a whole have indeed been pushed back and routed; The Shield has been defended with blood and sweat, but it has been defended.


The Outcome of Aylin’s Reach

Expansion brings many new needs to a territory. Infrastructure must be constructed to bring the new areas into cohesion with their new leadership. Roads must be built, trading posts must be erected, and through all of this supplies will need to be purchased and transported. 

As people begin to settle into the new normal in the regions that once belonged to Clan Squallborn eyes begin to shift focus onto the opportunities that arise from the increased needs and growth of the economic powerhouse of Aylin’s Reach. As warriors march north to defend The Shield of Mardrun, merchants and other economically minded individuals descend upon Aylin’s Reach to sell their wares and promises. The streets bustle with activity as people buzz from place to place, their efforts galvanized by word that Aylin will have representatives meeting with merchants and builders to secure contracts. This is not only a money making opportunity for many of these people. Many have come to build strong business ties in the area to make further contracts down the road easier to obtain.

It seems as well that the people of Squallborn that integrated with Clan Stormjarl have been coming along quite nicely. The alliance between Aldoria and Stormjarl has surely helped to move things along smoothly as they continue to pour resources into the area.

Through the month many groups and individuals of note travel to the area, schmooze with the locals, and return home with signed contracts for continued service. It seems that Aylin is indeed putting forth a strong effort to bring the entirety of the area up to his royal standards. Aylin’s Reach seems to be continuing its efforts to act as an alternative home for the colonists on Mardrun seeking to move out of City-State lands.

April 269

With the coming and passing of April, spring begins to fight back against the clutches of winter as the continent begins to stir from the long freeze.

The lands of Clans Nightriver and Clan Goldenfield have been busy this past month. Many laborers have been hard at work clearing trails and roads of brush and stone to make way for improved roads. While they have only recently started this venture, both clans hope to create a series of main roads to help expedite trade caravans and allow for greater ease for those guarding them as they travel along these new roads.

The guards of Newhope are baffled by the recent string of killings occurring in the outlying villages. These individuals and families seemed to have been butchered in their own homes, either sleeping or at the dinner table. The City Guard of Newhope continues their hunt for this mysterious mass murderer which plagues the common folk.

Fisherfolk from Clan Stormjarl report of a monstrous shark spotted while diving for clams and fishing further out. While large creatures like sharks are not unheard of off the coast, what made this shark different from the others was that it was easily around twenty feet long at only a glance. While the divers and fisherfolk were able to get some distance from the beast, it was still a close call. One diver noted the large amount of scars on its snout across its body, even mentioning a broken harpoon in its flank.

To the north in the Great Wolf’s Forest, some Clan Axehound lumberjacks were hard at work when they found what appeared to be a small shrine or totem inside a small grove. While the grove didn’t look recently inhabited, the totem did look as if it was built within the last year. When one of the lumberjacks touched it however, he screamed in agony and fell to the ground. When he was brought before a Daughter of Gaia, it was later revealed the individual had contracted Creeping Corruption.

February 22nd, 2020 – Politics and The Arcane Arts

Many heeded the call from Celestial Arragones for assistance, arriving to give their expertise and opinion on how to continue on. The options presented to those who were present were as follows: Did the want to enhance the divination ritual further, delve deeper into the mystery behind corruption magic, study the previous year’s pylon further, a more in depth understanding of the siphoning, or perhaps growing an even more powerful ritual.

Many debated and stated their opinions while others worked steadily on deciphering notes from the Celestial Arragones’s laboratory in hopes of finding more information that could be hidden between lines and forgotten lore. Others smoozed and socialized, making connections with those in power, forging friendships over drink and song, scheming for their own ambitions, and observing all that occurred. The entire time, the research team made progress with what each page deciphered.

As night began to close, the research team decided the time had come to perform the grand ritual that they had been planning for the day. They called together a group of interested participants and decided to focus on what the majority showed interest in, the mysteries behind the corruption. The guards got up, and warned everyone not to approach, or they shall forfeit their life. While some edged closer than they should have, no blood was spilt and the ritual concluded without error. The scholars immediately sent their data to their researchers to begin parsing with the promise that what ever they learned would be shared with the people of Mardrun. It was then they declared where their next venture shall take them, to the center of the swamp, to the center of the Mordok infested land to find out what caused the magically abnormality that hovers around the Dirge.

January 18th, 2020 – Divination and Research

Snow fell lightly upon the land in the village of Garjnatka, creating a scenic landscape for all those who traveled there to either help the Celestial Arragones’s research team or for their own gains. However, while the land looked peaceful there was danger lurking in the woods surrounding the village. Mordok were spotted skulking through the woodlands, while few in number, there were enough to put people on edge. Thankfully there were plenty of armed volunteers to drive the threat away whenever it did rear its ugly head.

Many gathered and assisted the research team, heading out into the snowy foothills of the Great Wolf Hackles to help further hone the divination ritual that was being used to locate items of interest across Mardrun. With help from the volunteers, the research team was able to work outside the village without much worry from the wandering Mordok. Back at the camp, many peddled their wares and feasted around the campfire throughout. Some even celebrated a Syndarian holiday which was taught to and shared all around the village.

However, at the end of the day all of the efforts of the research team and those who aided them paid off. The data collected from the multiple tests out in the field paid off as it gave the research team and those aiding from Clan Spiritclaw a direction to further enhance and improve the ritual. Those present began to celebrate before the icy cold winds from the Great Wolf Hackles bellowed down and reminded the village that winter still held the land in its frigid fingers.

December 7, 2019 – Surgeries and Celebrations

With the tensions between Clans Grimward, Stormjarl, and former Clan Squallborn dying down, there was little else to do but breathe and recover from a year’s worth of stress and work. With no battle to fight, no war nearby, no mordok or bandits to kill, or puzzles in need of solving those gathered at the settlement, many decided to relax and share a drink around the fire.

While drinking went on, some decided to heal the wounded, repairing their heavily damaged bodies to the best of their ability. Some others labored around the camp, improving it in some way shape or form to keep away the cold of the winter that was approaching or because being still not in their nature. Some plotted towards the future, and some told stories of the past. 


However that time was spent, it was spent in good company around a warm fire reflecting on the past, and looking towards the future.

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