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Desnus, 4711
Oh, these are the times that try mens’ souls... and womens’ too!
Baron Variel has asked everyone to work hard to insure Southshield’s success, but the bandits that pestered us last month have looted the treasury and brought trade to a standstill. We are broke!

Still, it has not been all bad. The Grigs, Dryads, Nixies, and other Fay within our borders have come forth to offer some tribute to our poor beleaguered Baron, easing some of our pain, and possibly allowing us to get by another month.

The increased piety and isolation here in Elkholm has made the locals rather arrogant and pigheaded. If one doesn’t subscribe to their views on “propriety” and faith, you are overcharged and generally encouraged to conform. It bothers me a little, but as I spend much of my time on the road, it is only an irritation. Lord Allistair however has becomes most outraged, and has moved to Tatzlford, only visiting briefly when Baron Variel needs his advice on matters of court, finding the locals “pigheaded” and “small-minded.”

The Baron has ordered a stop to all construction or expansion, at least until we have enough to do so, and do so comfortably.

Sarenith, 4711
We have driven off the bandits finally, but otherwise our suffering continues. The newest member of our court has been established. With Grano retired and off to foreign parts, and Nathaniel doing his best to fill his boots, Bryn has stepped up to handle the axeman’s post as royal executioner. At least she brought her own ax.

Rova, 4711
We have spent several months now, struggling to rally Southshield’s economy, to little success. Worse, fires broke out throughout the Narlmarches, threatening all three settlements. Luckily, we only lost some houses in Tatzlford. It could have been so much worse.

I wonder if Allistair’s house made it?

Lamashan, 4711
We have successfully rebuilt those houses lost in Tatzlford, and another brush with banditry has been rebuffed. Baron Variel has been beleaguered by the court to “get busy” and start a dynasty. He was rather reticent, both to High Priestess Sonja’s businesslike offer, and other’s suggestion that he might take my hand. Oh, if only he had ever shown some interest. But I am not one to settle down in any case. Still, he has been persuaded to send letters north to inquire with families of rank as to the possibilities of finding a wife.

Neth, 4711
Though it is now early winter, the Dragoneyes felt stiff with lack of adventure, and have made some disastrous choices because of it!

Oh, where to begin? No sooner had they left to explore some more of the northern plains and look for better farmland, than an agitator, the mendicant Gregori, arrived to stir up trouble. Oh, he has done nothing wrong, per-se, but each day he stood in the town square, in front of the Temple of the Elk, and spoke to the ever growing crowd as to the litany of faults, rumored crimes, and general failings of the absent Baron! Perhaps, if it were not winter and people had work to do, or we had kept up with the festivals and holidays the general public might have something better to do than listen to the noises coming out of his pie-hole! But they don’t, had so a week went by, with citizens from neighboring settlements to come see the only show in town.

I would not find out until much later the grim misery that had been the Dragoneye Band’s failed search northward. Of how they, along with newcomer Cyris Surtova, who arrived just before they left hoping to worm his way into court, spent much of their time being hunted by a half a dozen Trolls while digging their way through blizzards and heavy snows. They came back, less their pack horse and the High Priestess’ Elk companion (the Trolls found them quite tasty, I understand) to Gregori, standing in the middle of town, listing all their failures. It was the last straw.

Perhaps if Allistair had not immediately tried to bespell or assault him, Baron Variel might have taken a different tact. But the Baron spent what little energy he had just keeping the warrior-wizard from making a scene, before engaging the rabble-rouser in a discussion that ultimately revolved around his own many failures.

How heavy the crown, my lord, to make you fail us so now.

Variel could not refute Gregori’s accusations, so he handed him both crown and kingdom! He has sworn to serve and support him in turn, hoping this stranger may do a better job. We are all still in shock I think. Even Gregori (though he seems to be recovering nicely). Lady Sonja has resigned, recommending Elder Jhod take her place as High Priest, declaring instead she shall follow Variel into whatever exile may come. Meenem & Roska too have decided they shall not serve under this new agitant. Allistair seems the most offended by this betrayal however, and has not only abdicated his post as Magister, but taken the small force of men-at-arms he has slowly accrued over lo these many months and declared he intends to leave for Witchhaven and the Barony of Yossen, believing his services will be much better accepted in a land ruled by law and magic. Sir Jan is just in shock, and lost. The rest of us, however, have decided to stick it out, and do what we can for our chosen home. Maybe Variel and Gregori are right. Maybe this stranger can do better. At least if we can stay, we can say we did what we could.

Kuthona, 4711
Oh, what a trying year. Let us hope the next proves better.

Baron Gregori has sent the Dragoneye Band west, on a trade expedition to Ustelav that should keep them busy for many months. They are headed for the city of Carrion Hill, to arrange for a shipment of Middenstone to speed construction here. Our new Baron has seen fit also to rearrange his court, as is his prerogative. Our court, at the end of 4711, stands as follows:

• Baron Gregori the I, Ruler
  
• Svetlana Leveton, Councilor
  
• Kesten Garess, General
  
• Naleska (me), Diplomat (still)
  
• Elder Jhod Kavken, High Priest of Erastil
  
• Zane, Magister
  
• Cyris Surtova, Marshal
  
• Bryn, Royal Executioner
  
• Nathaniel “the Grinning Man,” Spymaster
  
• Oleg Leveton, Treasurer
  
• Akiros, Warden

Our new month has been most peculiar, and I am hard pressed to say wither it be better or worse than before. The new Baron has seen to it we stop the ban on expansion and construction, managing to claim yet more territory in the northern plains (the region that so bedeviled the Dragoneyes last month), even constructing a road there for further expansion. He has had a statue to himself erected in the town square here in Elkholm, and sent me north to Olegrad to hire girls and set up a brothel to encourage more interest here in the south - not too popular a move with the more pious members of our community. But is seems to be working. He has pushed Oleg to increase taxation, making them positively crippling, while cutting what little festivities and promotional activities we had to nothing, stating it is the only way to get out of this economic depression Variel left us in. THis hasn’t stopped him from pulling out funds from our beleaguered treasury to make sure we are all paid (and paid well), stating that we must all keep up appearances. The people in turn are surlier than ever, as they grow poorer and we richer.

And now I find myself in political scandal! Oh, I had not thought anything of it, having been in the profession of giving comfort for such a long time to those in need, and while the people know this of me and turn a blind eye, they hold their clergy to a much higher standard, it turns out. Elder Jhod had found his new post very stressful, and seemed so overwhelmed, I had thought I might alleviate some of his... tensions... He was resistant at first, but in the end proved far less resistant to my persuasions than Variel or Allistair ever did.

But word of our tryst has gotten out, and his congregation is outraged, demanding his resignation! After everything he has done to rebuild the Temple here, to help this community to grow! And yet they are the ones to be scandalized, to feel betrayed!

Perhaps Allistair was right about the pigheadedness of the citizens of Elkholm!

If we loose Elder Jhod, who then shall be our small country’s shepherd?

Gozran, 4711
Who would have thought we’d make it a year here? But it’s true, we will officially have been in the Greenbelt, taming and exploring for a year.

Well, maybe not exploring so much. Our Baron, sure. But me, not so much.

It’s been getting bloody dangerous out there.

With Grano retiring, Baron Variel has pushed my boy Nathaniel up to the post. “The Grinning Man” has retired from killing the deserving that our good Baron feels uncomfortable in killing, leaving Nate to his hawking and intimidating the public in other ways.

Eager to claim more farmland, Variel has chosen instead to lead yet another expedition north, taking Jan, Nate, Sonja and a new fellow, just arrived in town, Bryn from Rostev. They got up north and west of Olegrad, further than they’ve been before, and found a farm rumored to be cursed. Turned out it wasn’t cursed so much as haunted by something called a Drekavac, which followed them back to camp, probably because Allistar couldn’t leave well enough alone and messed with its’ toys. Well, they apparently dispatched it, and went back to consecrate the graves at that old farm, but both Sonja and Allistar came down with the plague. It was all made worse because while they were out camping in the fields, they were harassed all night by another of those damned wisps! Evil thing wouldn’t let them sleep a wink. Wouldn’t let them fight it proper either, so they tell me. Next day, they sent Bryn and Nate to fetch Elder Jhon for aid, telling them to have him meet them at Erastil’s Statue at the ruined Hunting Lodge. Yet while journeying there they had another run in, this time with a Barghest pretending to be a Wolf, and while they were so distracted, the Wisp revealed itself - opportunistic little monster...

Well, the barghest nearly killed Jan, but escaped before they could do it in. Not so the wisp, which Variel managed to nail with his arrows when it got a little too greedy. They made it safely to the Statue, and a day later Elder Jhon arrived and helped them recover from the disease.

Soon they were all back here in Elkholm, only to find out from Akiros that the bandits so recently chased out of Yossen have arrived to make themselves a pain in our realm, hitting merchants from Tatzlford to Olegrad. On the plus side, Variel placed a few orders in to get road and settlers aimed at the recently opened up stretch for farming. Even got a dump established at the edge of Elkholm. My budget has been slightly increased, so I can actually start making my rounds and get some goodwill going with our Witchlord & Swordlord neighbors. Roska has a bit more to do as well, with her being able to promise some sort of celebration at least once this coming year.

Our Baron, the big spender.

Still, he means well. No sooner was he back than he, Sonja, Jan and Allistar (and one of Allistar’s poor, overdressed, underpaid goons) went charging off to see wither it was wild animals or bandits that had been killing in Tatzlford recently. Turns out it was something else entirely. Apparently a werewolf with an ax to grind - literally - had slipped in to do some killing while the moon was full. They caught up with him, and hammered him so bad he fled, though not without putting fear of the dying into Allistar and his little minion. They tried tracking the beast, but lost its’ trail in the woods south of town.

Werewolves, Barghests and Drekavacs, oh my! Can’t wait to hear what else this next year will bring!

Kuthona, 4710
Our heroes have come back on their shields, and yet again we find ourselves in debt to the Witchlords of Yossen.

I admit, events have been grim of late. For months now I have wondered why I agreed to play diplomat for Baron Variel, to live without recompense almost like some cloistered nun and eat gruel. My boys are a noble, rambunctious bunch, but they sometimes do not see the point that when one becomes socially upwardly mobile, that means you must at least dress the part. So I have found more than the obvious to be thankful for in our recent trip to visit Baron Yossen at Stag Castle. But I get ahead of myself.

I am told that after they left for Tatzlford on their mission to reassure them we would be incorporating them soon, Variel and his companions had several run-ins with gigantic spiders that haunted the trees north of town. Those proved not so much the threat - perhaps the cold sapped the monsters of their strength - but once they left the woods, having decided to explore the plains north of the Narlmarches, they met a far more dangerous challenge. Worgs!

Like the beast that was harassing Yossen’s borders not long ago, these evil creatures look like wolves, but are far more evil, and far smarter. They attacked the Dragonseyes as they were breaking camp one morning, and managed to pull down General Jan One-eye’s horse, pinning him underneath, and rent him limb from limb. Nathaniel Green, Variel’s hatchet man whom criminals have come to call “the Grinning Man” met a similar fate before the rest of the company rallied and dispatched the beasts. Grieving, the company carried their dead home, and Variel made no question of pulling ten-thousand gold from our young kingdom’s treasury, in hopes that the Witchlord Kenzil might be persuaded to do for them what he had done for him not so long ago. We packed up and wrapped ourselves tight, reaching Witchhaven not long before a blizzard locked the Greenbelt down tight, turning the very air into a white maelstrom of icy doom.

I envy them their castle, and their warm fires, and their magic that allows them to traipse around wearing the most... revealing... of garments. Witches and their magic allow for rather relaxed dress codes it seems.

A week in Witchhaven has given us all a chance to observe the Witchlord’s court and baronial state. While we strove to establish farms and settlements, they have established mines with their Kobold allies, having found rich deposits of gold and silver in the northern Kamelands. The elf Winterheart has traded his role of “Beater of the Bounds” for High Priest, acting on the tradition that a Ranger may act as a Priest for Erastil when the community so needs them to do so. “Pa” Jessup has become one of their Witchlords, taking the name Hebediah the Brown and taking over for Winterheart as Marshal, while Gregor - Allistar’s old butler - has stepped up to become Councilor and speak for the people. Talya, the artificer from Alkenstar, and her husband Peter, have suffered tragedy in loosing their first child. Even the Witchlords suffer tragedy like the rest of us.

But our young Baron Variel was not to be distracted. Baron Kenzil certainly had no objections to taking our money, and after determining their willingness to return put each in order into his black cauldron, boiling away their old flesh in his foul smelling oils, to bring them back to us reborn, if not a little different in shape. Both are... smaller than they were. The Grinning Man has been remade a Dwarf, though his signature scar still marks him clearly. Jan too is still missing an eye, but is half the man he was - their treasurer, Anando, could be his handsomer brother, halfling that he now is. Both Barons seem to have recognized this for the opportunity this clearly is though, and spent much of the week agreeing to borders between our two states. In principle we have agreed to stick to the Narlmarches, and they the Kamelands. In the north, however, they have ceded us the South Rostland road (or at least as much of it as Brevoy itself chooses not to claim), while we in turn promise to end our southern expansion at the Murque River. I wonder what interests them so in the southern Narlmarches, but we have enough to worry about now with our current plans, and this should do much to allay the constant suspicion and militant posturing Allistar makes over our eastern neighbors. Or not. Allistar is most disagreeable like that.

The Barons also talked about the fashion of court, and the need for “living the life,” as Master Kenzil puts it, a subject Variel understands but finds quite uncomfortable. Variel was born a peasant, and raised lowborn until he took to Erastil’s service. The idea of dressing to his station is hard for him. Lord Kenzil finds his embarrassment amusing though, and points out no one worries about HIS origins. He is a fat old flying man-witch, he jokes of himself, so to his mind nobles not born to the purple are cut from a different cloth. The outcome of all this?

We’re getting paid!

Pharast, 4711
It has been a good, if quiet, three months since midwinter and our visit to Witchhaven. We reached an accord with Garuum, the Boggard we had met last year, thanks to Sonja’s diligent visits and learning of his tongue, and he has agreed to our being neighbors (and mutual allies - he seems to have no more love for interloping Boggards than we do). This has in turn allowed us to finish establishing a road to Tatzlford and placing the Rezbin’s settlement under our protection. Though they only have an Inn and a few houses yet, they look to be growing swiftly. Though rumors of Trolls continue to the south of us, the citizenry seem happy with our efforts so far, especially between a general sense of calm that even Allistar’s worries can’t dislodge over our political situation, and a surplus of food stores left over from winter.

Perhaps the oddest event of late is the appearance of a monster, a Gnoll from the desert kingdom of Kapatesh, who has only lately arrived in Tatzlford. The Baron seems quite perplexed having met him - the Gnoll claims to be a merchant, calling himself “Lucky Heegle,” and has come up here hoping to set up shop and sell all sorts of goods from the fair southern climes. He doesn’t seem evil, or particularly monstrous, but he definitely makes the settlers nervous.

Kuthona, 4710
Winter has come, and it is biting cold!

His lordship (ha! so cute calling him such - he doesn’t take on such airs with us or the settlers... the “Pioneer Prince” some call him, dressing and living like the rest of us as he does) managed to scout out and claim much of the plains north of the Narlmarches for farmland, which should mean that while food is tight now, we should eat well next winter. When they explored up there a few months back, Variel and company came back with trophies of a Manticore kill, as well as an ambush by a half-dozen Boggards - frog-like humanoids like the one that lives by itself by the river. Since then, what once was Oleg’s Outpost has been expanded a bit, with a small settlement of houses and Oleg tending their horses at his well-stocked stables. The village calls itself Olegrad, much to the amusement of their mayor, Oleg himself - men are such vain, easy to please creatures. Here in Elkholm the Temple of the Elk has been rebuilt, along with a graveyard to accompany it, and despite a fire and collapse that destroyed much of the early work, we have our district for our honored dead.

Rumors have been running rampant of Troll sightings to the south, and there has been much debate amongst Variel’s court. Jan has been agitating for hunting the beasts down, but Akiros has proven the cooler head, recommending we wait until spring. We are not ready for Troll hunting he believes, and the majority of the court agreed. I wonder if Variel has decided otherwise though. Just recently he has taken a small expedition southward to the nascent settlement of Tatzlford, to check on the Rezbins, and to reassure them of his intentions to again press south so as to incorporate that part of the woods into Southshield. I have just received word that they too have had sightings of Trolls, as well as one logger (named Stas) who encountered some reptilian monster called a Hodog. There is some argument he may have been drunk when he saw it however. Still, Variel and company seem to be using this as an excuse to stay away from court and poke around a bit.

In the middle of winter.

Men!

Arodus, 4710
What a whirlwind couple of months! My my, but I never expected this!
With the Stag Lord dead at the hands of my boys (and girl) in the Dragonseyes, we’ve earned our charter of Colonization, and with Variel’s rebirth, we even have our Baron. Since leaving the Green Hands to found their own Colony down south in the Kamelands, we have founded the Barony of Southshield at the Temple of the Elk. Three months and much blood, sweat and tears later, and we have our capital of Elkholm. It is not yet much to look at, just the restored Temple and a handful of houses, but it’s here. We have also managed to build a road connecting us to Oleg’s Outpost, and he has agreed (with some general complaints about encroaching civilization) to have his fort be part of our domain as well. Between here and there is Tyg’s Bridge, crossing the Thorn River in that same neck of the woods we met the fairies.

Baron Forestwalker has established his court, and it is no surprise he has filled it with comrades from the Dragonseyes. His foster-mother, Roska, is Councilor, while Jan One-eye has accepted the post of General. Sonja Medvyed has taken over as High Priest, and works now with Elder Jhon at the Temple of the Elk, while Allistar Lancerey has become Magister, and has sent word to his family back in Brevoy to join us here. The Druid Meenem Riverstalker has agreed to watch the wilderness as our lord Marshal, while my boy Grano acts quietly as Variel’s Spymaster, and my other sweet baboo Zane counts the money as Treasurer. The Stag Lord’s repentant lieutenant, Akiros Ismort, has been persuaded by Sonja to stay on as Warden, and now patrols Elkholm with a handful of guardsmen, while the cherry role of Grand Diplomat has been given to none other than I! Can you imagine? They have given me a parcel of funds to spread the good word about our little Colony and a role that allows me to still feel the open road beneath my feet! True, they also suggested I might marry Baron Variel, but he hasn’t changed so much as to stop being a stick-in-the-mud as far as romance goes, and likely finds the idea of settling down as atrocious as I do.

There is one other face at court worth mentioning, which would be Nathaniel Green, known to some as the “Grinning Man” (for the hideous scar that marks his face on one side where the Stag Lord cut him from lip to jaw). They say they found him tied up in a room, a torture subject of one of the Stag Lord’s men. He told us he was a merchant, captured and kept for their amusement, but for a merchant he seems remarkably skilled at killing. We kept him on as my escort for the first two months, and recently Variel has seen fit to bring him into his retinue as royal executioner (because some feel others still need killing, and the new Baron finds meting out such punishments... distasteful).

We have recently been approached by the Rezbins, pioneers hoping to win over our support in settling the area around the Tatzleford. Baron Variel is very interested in helping them out, as a re many amongst his court, but we are under much pressure to settle the plains north of the Narlwood first, establishing farmland before the coming winter.

Desnus 18
The Dragon’s Eyes have sent out their scouts again, not ones to waste much time in mourning. This time only Variel, Jan, Peter, Grano, Sonja, Isuldor and Allistar will make the trip. Jan has tasked Talya with the job of making him a lance before he left, and the challenge of not making it weird or unusual. He hopes it will be done by their return.
Sareneth 2
It has been two weeks, and we are all worried, having received no word of our scouts. Anando, the Steward of Khoran Lebeda, has arrived with news of the disaster that befell the Green Hands at the hand of the Stag Lord, and now we all worry our boys may have faced a similar fate. It is not as if they too weren’t planning a similar assault on the Stag Lord’s Fortress. They just need to know where to strike first.
Sareneth 9
They have returned! Oh my boys, my boys! What adventures they tell! It is all very muddled, but they not only found the missing Statue of Old Deadeye, but in following the Skunk River, they found a dispute to solve between loggers and the local fey. They have spend much of these last two weeks relocating the loggers to a copse of trees near the Tatzlwyrm’s ford, and cut down some sort of cursed tree that was menacing a Dryad, who in turn gave them magic seeds to restore trees the loggers chopped down. Now all is happy and the Dragon’s Eyes have friends to help watch over the forest. On the downside, apparently there is now some bad blood between Allistar and Variel, Sonja and Jan. Apparently amongst the roots of the tree they found a magical robe which Allistar desperately wanted, but the others put to the torch for being a product of fell magic, and thus an evil thing. They would have been back sooner but for these strange events, and an attack by wild boar that left them badly hurt (and killed Variel’s dog! Poor fellow, he bears it well, but I can tell, he is crying on the inside), and an encounter with a trapped Thylacine that became complex with Peter falling in and being bespelled when Allistar tried to put the monster to sleep with his magics. Luckily they put the monster down before it could eat the masked warrior.
Now the camp is a’buzz with plans to avenge the Green Hands! We will finally be moving the camp, first to Olegs, then south, following Anando to the Stag Lord’s Fortress and an end to this dreadful menace!

Gozran 23
Oh I love weddings! And they let me be a bridesmaid, too! Sonja officiated to see to it the ever mysterious masked warrior Peter has married the southerner Talya. It is about time - the way they go at it, they're bound to have the first children born in these proposed colonies the Swordlords are so keen on establishing!

It has put my new lovers in a fine mood. Spring has infected Zane and Grano, who have taken quite a fancy to me.

Gozran 24
Voriel has left again, with quiet Isuldor, Jan the loud, half-blind Breen, staunch Peter, my sweet Sonja, fussy Allistar, and two newcomers who arrived recently to lend a hand - a wandering cleric of Serenrae named Kyra (another southerner, like Talya I believe), and an old spell-caster who answers to Ezren. That last seems to have become Allistar’s “new best friend,” whether he wishes it or no. Something about Wizards and their books sharing secrets... At least I’m honest about my wants, and get my partners to pay up front about it! I think Ezren could learn a thing or two about how to sell himself... er... I mean, sell his spells... Allistar can be a greedy sort.

Gozran 29
Home are the heroes! The Temple is so dull without them, but where they go, there is simply no room for my wagon! Still, except for finding some hot-springs at the head of the aptly named Skunk River, it sounds like they had a miserable time. Giant toads, fog, thunder storms, a Will-o-the-Wisp and a Troll made for a miserable couple of days stuck by the pond. The Troll apparently rent poor Kyra in ‘twain before they brought the beast down, and Ezren is at a loss over his companion. Ever tactless, I have heard Allistar is still trying to squeeze blood from this stone, so I don’t anticipate Ezren staying with us for long.

Desnus 2
After many days of horrid weather, our scouts have set out again, this time to explore the far side of the Skunk River. I will miss Grano, who has finally decided to leave my attentions for the job he was hired for, while Ezren has taken his leave of the expedition, much to Allistar’s frustration. He has had words with Voriel and Jan, and has thankfully had no traction in convincing the far more sensible members of our party that chasing after and smacking the other Wizard over the head so he may add spells to his collection is anything other than banditry, and that such an action would get him anything more than a good hanging!

And yet they all remain friends. What a funny company of saints and sinners.

Desnus 9
Our explorers return to rest and resupply before setting out yet again. The last week they tell me they have encountered no small amount of dangers, the least of which was some sort of “Frog-hermit” that lives in a swamp just off the Skunk River. The Frog-man doesn’t speak more than five words of Taldoran, and seems quite protective of his hovel, so they gave him and his saber-toothed toad a wide birth. Wild Boar, Thylacenes, heavy winds and a pair of Tatzlewyrms nesting at a good fording spot along the River rounded out their journey. They tell me they’ve marked the spot with the creature’s heads on spikes at each end. Hmm - “Tatzleford” - kind of a catchy name, I think. They apparently found a map tucked away one one of the wyrm’s victims that has quite caught their imaginations, so they plan to set out first thing tomorrow in search of a statue the map alludes to.

Desnus 14
Our boys (and girls) are back again. I really am tired of being stuck on the sidelines - besides, I don’t think Elder Jhod approves of me. While the scouting party had some excitement avoiding a centipede of unusual scale, and wasted several days collecting bear-traps left indiscriminately by a lazy trapper (possibly the same lazy trapper as the one they found dead in a makeshift trap a day or so before), the most interesting thing they seem to have found was news and rumors heard while resupplying at Olegs!

The Green Hands have made peace with the Kobolds! There’s one less threat standing between the Greenbelt and civilization. The other bit of news is that there may be a Monastery on the shores of the Tuskwater dedicated to Gyronna, the wrathful hag goddess so popular amongst the less kind inhabitants of the River Kingdoms. Voriel and Jan seem to think there may be a connection between these cultists and the Stag Lord’s bandits, making the need to dispatch these villains much greater.

Breen is taking a rest (but not with me, alas), to be replaced with that tramp Natasha Surtova on the next trip out. Finally, that witch is taking her leave and doing something other than lazing about, draping herself on any unattended male and teasing them along!

Desnus 17
Oh fie on me for wishing her ill! Natasha Surtova is dead.

The company has just returned and we are shortly to plant her in the ground, yet another grave by Erastil’s temple for a fallen companion. While lured in by the flickering of a campfire, the fire proved false and they were set upon by another Will-o-wisp. There is something in these lands that make the things wish us no end of ill. It snuffed her out before they truly knew what it was that struck at them.

Go in grace, oh kinsman to the King. Let us hope the Throne holds no ill will for failing to keep safe their wayward dove, soiled though she might have been.

Gozran 15
That scoundrel Mierelle Medvyed and his manservant have caught up with us. Mmm... Scoundrels...

Apparently Voriel and the others have made peace with the wee folk that have been pestering them. Tug-Titter-Tut seems to like my singing well enough, and the dragon Perlivash seems sweet, but Voriel and the others are having some trouble running interference with Allistar, who may or may not be considering poisoning them! Foolish wizard. His ego will be his undoing.

Mereen and Breen have left to turn in the Tatzlewyrm's head for the reward, while Voriel heads out with Peter, Mierelle, Jan, Grano, the paranoid Allistar and the noble tramp Natasha to explore north of here. The rest of us settle in to our new campsite, so recently vacated by the bandits.

Gozran 16
Rains were hard today, and we saw a tornado in the distance moving out of the Kalelands to chew through the woods north of us, where our explorers have gone. I do hope they aren't in its' path!

Gozran 18
Everyone is back. Voriel tells us they found the lost Temple of Erastil and slew (or freed?) its' cursed guardian. Mereen & Breen are off to Olegs again to fetch Brother Jhod, so it may be properly cleansed and reinstated, while our explorers head south (minus Natasha - poor thing feels "tired" - sick and tired of stumbling around in the woods with real men who won't pamper her like her family does no doubt).

Gozran 20
Oh gods, please take those gentle souls to paradise. Pavel and Heek are dead. Our camp was set upon last night by wolves while our strongest were away. I was carring for Sonja & Zane, both still very ill with the creeping crud, so all I could do was lock the door to my wagon and pray. Heek was slain in his sleep, while the wolf-pack took down Pavel as he bravely defended his mistresses' wagon and attempted to rescue her dog, Puddles. Poor thing, it failed to fight off the beasts, and it too was gobbled up. Natasha and Roska managed to drive the others off, killing two, but Pavel's body has been dragged off to the woods, never to be seen again. Mereem & Breen returned with Brother Jhod, and the elder priest has placed prayers for our dead.

Gozran 22
Our explorers are back, and Brother Jhod has read last rites for our losses. Our scouting band found and killed Tuskgutter, and so Mereem & Breen are again racing off to deliver a head for a reward. There was some mention also of brief encounters with hunters and a wolf, but no real excitement comparable to ours. With our proper escort, we are now to relocate to the Temple of Erastil. Perhaps under the wild god's watchful eye we will be safe.

Gozran, 6, 4710
That hussy, Natasha Surtova, the King of Brevoy's slut cousin, has arrived with some other late-comers, potential customers all. The Elk-riding Gnome Breen Leafsong, the red-cloaked Rostland warrior Isuldor, and the fragile-looking half-elf Cartographer Heek Moonchor. That Breen looks good enough to eat! Yum!

Father Jhon has asked both Expeditions to keep a lookout for some lost ruin sacred to Erastil, which has gotten many excited (apparently he has quite the congregation amongst them). Voriel led a small band out to to a reconnoiter of the nearby stretch of Narlwood, taking Breen, Heek, Isuldor, Grano & Jan with him. Not wanting to feel left out, I unhitched my pony and followed, much to the annoyance of some and potential delight of others.

Gozran, 8, 4710
I have seen my first Kobold. The company found Svetlana's Radishes, and came into dispute with the fat Kobolds that rested there. The lizards die well enough, but the incessant arguing over slitting the throats of the downed enemy was hard fought. I truly do not understand Voriel - he strikes me as far to soft-hearted for this business, unlike Breen, who was with me in slitting the little reptile throats. Still, the point has been made that now that the Dragons have bloodied them but left several alive, the rest of the tribe will not wish to deal with us without violence in the future.

But oh, my boys can fight!

Gozran, 9, 4710
We have returned to Olegs, despite a brief assault from the sky with hail. Some notice has been payed to the new Wanted poster for the death or capture of the Stag Lord. No small amount of change, and a Colony charter as reward! Still, calmer heads seem to suggest we wait. Svetlana was quite pleased with the Radishes, and gave the Dragons a peculiar amulet, a "Wayfinder" I think they called it, as reward. Reward money has been sent down from the Swordlords for reducing the bandit population, which has been split by Oleg between the two Companies for their contributions. Voriel, foresighted as usual, has spent much of it on supplies for the Dragons - a month's worth of hardtack for the next round of exploration in the Narlwood. Tomorrow we all set out, all the Dragons, and our wagons, to explore the woods in ernest.

Gozran, 12, 4710
Oh calamitous day! Oh, miserable forest! It has taken my sweet Barbarian from me - Zorask the mighty has fallen!

WHile the scouting party was out exploring, the halfling Meneem heard a cry in the woods, and he, Anixus and my poor Zorask fell for the malefic bait. Thus lured my sweet Numarian fell into a pit full of spikes, left by some careless hunter no doubt. No sooner had he climbed out, so Meneem tells me, than he and the others were set upon by a flaming skull, a fiendish apparition we have since come to suspect as what local huntsmen call a "Will-O-the-Wisp." The thing "kissed" each in turn, whispering darkness and fear to them. Meneem fled, holding to his wolf for dear life to whisk him to the camp for help, but by the time aid could arrive the monster was gone and they were dead.

I have promised to take my sweet Numarian's beloved sword back to Numaria to his mother. It is the least I can do, given he willed the rest of his wealth to me.

... tear stains blur what is written next...

...We relocated to the Bandit Camp by the Thorn River. Earlier our scouting party stumbled into their ambush, where the waters afforded a fordable spot. These thugs had no stomach for fight once my boys laid out their axe-wielding wench. Still, this witch Kressle nearly killed Isuldor, so Roska, Sonja & I are tending him. That pea-cocked wench Natasha apparently discovered just how useless she is and has spent her time since sulking.

Gozran, 13, 4710
Voriel has returned with the rest of his scouting force from the north-west, and they are badly hurt. Apparently they stumbled onto a herd of River Elk, and the Bucks thought they meant their wards harm. The fight was hard, but we eat well tonight.

Gozran, 14, 4710
Apparently the Elk stew did not agree with many, and there was complaint of a soapy taste. Many in camp had the runs. Otherwise, the night passed quietly, though Roska tells me she heard queer laughter in the night whenerver anyone ran off to the bushes for relief.

later...
The scouts have returned, having had much excitement today. Jan had some trouble with his saddle (which others tell me was both unusual, and funny to see), and more peculiar laughter was heard, leading Voriel and the others to suspect fairies are playing tricks on us. They left offerings on the trail which were not their on their return, but we have yet to discover if such gifts were accepted. They also were ambushed by one of those dreaded Tatzlewyrms! We now have head for Oleg (and dire threats for the Green Hands if they've managed to beat us in bringing one in), but Grano was nearly killed and eaten.

later still...
Well that was exciting! A herd of River Elk apparently thought our camp was ideal for grazing, and were quite upset to discover us. We drove them off, with a few more Bucks to add to our rations, but the camp is a mess, and Allistar, our arrogant, egotistical Wizard, had a particularly hard time of it. Apparently our faerie friends heard his boasts and threats, and targeted him as their new "special friend." When chaos broke out in the camp over the Elk, he crawled out of his tent, suffering from visions of a most peculiar nature - a "bad trip" I think someone called it - with his boot-laces tied together, and his pantaloons undone to further trip him up. He was nearly trampled to death while trying to kiss one of the Bucks! Perhaps this will teach him not to make such boasts to the wee folk. Then again, perhaps not.

Gozran, 5, 4710
My my, but my friends amongst the Dragons got themselves bruised mighty fierce by those wild pigs. 2nd day here Veril and company charged off into the oncoming rain, only to have to be brought back in a cart. Luckily, none of them died. The Boars sounded quite dangerous. But on the other hand, Oleg and Svetlana are happy for the meat - the four should be providing enough to feed this veritable army forming out here on the frontier. Still, Sonja seems to be warming to me, even agreeing to my price to play grooming consultant.

Yesterday they left early: Variel leading Allister, Sonja, Jan, Peter, and Grano off to fully map the surrounding local lay of the land. It went swimingly, now the storm has passed. They apparently nearly had another run-in with more of their pig-faced friends, but it was the bandits that ambushed them last night that gave them a nice run. Even bleary-eyed they managed to kill two and drive off another. They even brought back a prisoner to hand over to the guards here.

The prisoner seems happy we have no stocks to put him in (yet - I understand those Jessups are carpenters, amongst other things), and has provided the Dragons with a good deal of information, not the least of which is that the woman the other band followed is not the top bandit in these parts. That would be someone (or some-THING) calling itself the Stag Lord. Apparently this "lord" makes his haven in some sort of ruined Monastery down by the Tuskwater.

Tomorrow the Dragon's Eyes will be heading out properly to explore this new frontier (or is it a very very old frontier?), and I plan to follow and tend my boy Zoresk... and the others... if they should happen to need a soft pillow and a warm bed...

Gozran 1, 4710, Oathday
And so we arrive, a slightly disheveled mess. Just the way I like to wake up.
Ah, a new place, new faces, new friends. New special friends. With benefits. I think I'll like it here at this little outpost, though I think Oleg's wife is giving me the stink-eye. Heh.

She needn't worry. The Dragon's Eyes seem to be giving me all the business I need.

Can it be only a week ago they came through the droll little town I'd hitched my wagon to? That Numarian barbarian of theirs, Zorask, quite took my breath away. Seemed time after that to hitch my wagon to their train and follow their trail to Olegs.

And just in time for Spring. Flowers in bloom. Good times. Times for dance and excitement!

These Drangon's Eyes, they're one of the two companies the Swordlords up in Reslov chartered to scout out the Greenbelt. Some like me, some don't, but Zorask likes me, and his buldging muscles seem to have persuaded the rest to let me tag along.

I've made a little list of them. Making plans for future notches in my bedpost, perhaps, or perhaps not. We shall see...

• Zoresk, my favorite customer. I'll have to give him a discount if he keeps this up. My big burly barbarian has an even bigger sword!
  
• Jan One-eye, a knight in not-so shiny armor, always preaching about justice and defending the weak. I think he's hiding more than his ego behind all that bravado. A real man with something to prove. I think his fancy steed, Frost Dancer, agrees.
  
• Morthin, oh Morthin. I'd do the poor little bookworm for free but I think his heart would give out. He fits the stereotype of the elf that will blow away in a stiff breeze, poor little thing.
  
• Allistar Lancerey, my my. Cranky Elf with magic under his mantle. Not a euphemism, but an explanation of his ego. The arrogant, paranoid magi seems convinced I've be-spelled his compatriots. Silly wizard, my enchantments are all-natural.
  
• Arixus Phae,a warrior-woman with a sword every bit as large as my Zoresk. Which makes one wonder. What IS she compensating for?
  
• Gregor Garess, the creepy Dwarf butler. I wonder, just who is he Butlering for?
  
• Sonja Medvyed, prim and proper priestess of Erastil. She was too tightly wound when we met, but I seem to be getting her to unwind, little by little.
  
• Sebriel Zane, yet another elf, and this boy likes to play with chemicals! The Alchemist seems to like playing with his lab equipment a little too much, I think.
  
• Peter, the mysterious masked man. Always wearing his armor or wearing a mask, he seems to be shacked up with that foreign girl, Talia. Or maybe he's just her bodyguard? Heh, only her bodyguard...
  
• Talia. What can I say - I thought I was an exotic flavor. She's one of those dusky skinned southern girls, hailing from far off Alkenstar and always messing about with her peculiar inventions, when she's not making time with Peter.
  
• Pavel, her long-suffering assistant. A bit on the ugly side, but I'm sure I can ease his suffering a little...
  
• Grano, a slippery little fellow. Barely notice him when he's here, I have the feeling I'd better notice him if anything goes missing.
  
• Variel Forestwalker, half-elf, all man. Charming, charming man. A little too dedicated to his faith in Erastil, maybe, but he takes charge without taking charge and the others follow. I'd follow even, if he'd ask.
  
• Meenom Riverstalker, spooky little loner Halfling Elk-rider. Who knew Halflings rode Elks?
  
• Roska, my new best friend. The old 1/2 Orc hag knows a thing or two about being a Wise-woman, so we've been trading recipes.