…made our own camp just outside the encampment of the army amassing around the tower. For several days we sat and we watched, as more giants arrived to join the amassing army.

Observation confirmed that which we had begun to suspect: those who were entering into Mokmurian’s service appeared to be young, perhaps the equivalent of the age at which most human adolescents begin to rebel. It makes a great deal of sense. They are strong, healthy, passionate, and…easily swayed and influenced, something they seem to have in common with human recruits and soldiers. (It’s funny that I do not think of myself as young anymore even though I am not much older than I was when joined the guard back home. A lot has changed since then.)

The more we watch Jorgenfist, the more concerned I become that we are in over our heads. We are isolated, far from home, and surrounded by hundreds of stone giant soldiers which are formidable even untrained. Harpies patrol the skies. A red dragon, quite possibly the same one that we encountered in Sandpoint– we certainly hope it is, for having two dragons in between us and Mokmurian is a very unpleasant thought– appears to live in a cave on the northern edge of the valley. And at night we have seen three more dragon-like beasts that our casters believe to be wyverns hunting for prey.

A frontal assault is obviously out of the question. Having had enough of this, and growing more concerned that we may be discovered the longer we stay at the edge of the valley, we are moving out tomorrow to the ravines east of the tower. It’s probably too much to ask that there be some sort of back entrance that is unguarded, but plenty of these hills have caves and that suggests that there could be a network of caverns underneath us. If we are lucky, that will turn out to be the case, and if we are luckier still one might…

Oathday, Sarenith 19

The giants’ attack on Sandpoint was as bizarre as it was ferocious. As we have made our way across the plains towards Wolf’s Ear we have seen the signs of raiding and scouting parties– campsites, pillaged towns, even a makeshift grave– and heard many stories of the same, but none seemed as well coordinated as what we faced. Perhaps they were just more prepared since Sandpoint is large enough a city to have resources to defend itself, and such an assault cannot be done ad-hoc, but what we have learned suggests that it simply has the misfortune of having been built in an important place, one with ties to the Thassilonian age that is somehow important to a larger scheme. This makes Sandpoint special, and deserving of a level of attention that is sure to make life difficult there for the forseeable future.

The raid, as it was, seems to have served two purposes. The first was exactly what it appeared to be on the surface: attack the town and drag away valuables and people. The second, however, was an attempt to retrieve a piece of the old lighthouse, for purposes that are not yet clear. Our wizards tell us that there are spells for communing with stones, and they suggest that there is something that the artifact…witnessed?…that is of great importance.

It was through a combination of luck, skill, and trickery that we managed to stop them short of their goal. While we have fought a number of foes, we have not been in a position where we have had to defend so many fronts, and so many people, at one time since the goblin assault many months ago. Of course, this time the attackers were larger, stronger, and though fewer, much deadlier. Faced with only bad options, we split our party up into smaller teams to deal with each threat as it came, and some of us very nearly lost our lives for it. And as bad as each encounter seemed, with each new one the situation grew more dire.

I’ll admit to being frightened at the sight of, not one, but two dragons flying over the city. One red that breathed fire, and one white that I am told spread ice and frost. I later learned that the second dragon was, in fact, a clever and well-timed (if not poorly communicated) illusion from Trask, created to keep the real dragon at bay. In that, I can say that Trask was largely successful, as the dragon did little more than torch a few buildings, and only claimed a few lives. Yes, the damage was severe, but what was intended to be a vehicle of panic and fear was instead kept somewhat to the edges of the city, wary and mistrustful of its surroundings.

The giants and dire animals, in contrast, were very real. Fortunately, we were able to use our numbers and our knowledge of the city to gain the upper hand and quickly turn the tide. I am told the last giant was felled just a few hundred yards from the city walls.

From his interrogation we learned of Mokmurian, a sort of upstart, insurgent leader with ambitions of uniting all giants under his reign. His plan appears to be to whip up a frenzy with promises of retaking the human lands, and these widespread raids appear to be early rewards for his followers. While I do speak of it a little flippantly, I have no doubts that he is very dangerous and very capable, and he certainly has the mettle to make it happen. We are told that he has a great deal of magical talent, and was audacious enough to claim a taboo site in his homelands as his fortress. These are the signs of one who knows they have power, and knows how to use it to wrestle control from others.

Though we have so far been successful, sometimes comically so, in defeating the bands of giants as we come across them, I do worry about what is on the road ahead. After entering Jorgenfist, we will no longer be dealing with isolated raiding parties of overconfident and under-prepared adversaries. We will be quite literally surrounded by giants. Though our resources are numerous, they are not unlimited and even these small skirmishes have left us drained. And then, there is still the matter of the dragon, a creature that breathes fire and flies high where it is difficult to fight. I fear that we are neither prepared to defend against it– we can all be burned by fire as easily as we burn others– or to take meaningful combat to it.

I will raise this concern with the party in the morning. We need to think, and to plan.

Toilday, Pharast 4

Jakardos and Vale have gone to check on the dam while we stay at the fort to begin repairs and purge the place of any signs of the ogres’ occupation.

We are all exhausted from the fighting of the past two days. Despite our superior numbers and considerable talents, our foes were very nearly a match for us even when divided into small groups. Without the care, caution, and deception that we used to infiltrate the fort, we would have quickly found ourselves overwhelmed and forced to retreat, if not killed out right. Fortunately, our planning was sound and we were able to prevent the ogres from alerting one another so that we could dispatch them two or three at a time. How the rangers were ever able to keep these creatures in check was something of a mystery to me at first until it became clear that they never had to contend with more than a couple at a time. The ogres have never had this level of organization before. Individually they were tough but easily dispatched; organized under the guidance and influence of Lucretia, they were significantly more deadly.

The biggest coup was, of course, finding and destroying Lucretia on our very first night. I took a great deal of satisfaction in delivering the killing blow. For you, Olithar.

The plan to use her image to lure others in was crucial to our strategy of divide and conquer, and it worked so well on these simple creatures that we could probably had kept it up indefinitely (in the end, the opportunity to fireball the mess wagon was too good to pass up). Oh, how they were terrified of her. It never occurred to them that she might be destroyed, or that anyone would even dare to impersonate her.

Of course, this also served as a reminder that there are other sisters, and that Xanesha got away from us in Magnimar.

Fireday, Pharast 7

We are leaving now. As Tekkad had feared the dam has been breached. The river is rising quickly. Turtleback Ferry is in danger.

Starday, Pharast 1

The surviving members of the Black Arrows created crude funeral pyres and Takkad said his words. Then we lit the flames and watched as the fire consumed it all: the obscene house burned to the ground, and the bodies of those slain were reduced to ashes. The smoke was, I am sure, visible for many miles but miraculously we did not attract any unwanted attention. And that was that.

What came next was less pleasant, and in many ways more distasteful. That Kaven would willingly and so eagerly turn on his own, knowing the fate that lay ahead, left me in a bitter mood. There are those in our party who believe he may have been influenced by magic, in the same way that Trask had been, but what I saw was just a young man with no moral compass and a desire to live a life where riches are given and not earned. There is an obsession that comes with the influence of magic, and it is something that I have seen enough of to recognize, but what is most telling is the change in a man’s character. In Kaven I saw no such thing. Magic was not necessary to get him to betray those who put their trust in him.

That Jakardos did not see the connection between Kaven’s convenient excuses and delays and the attack on the fort is not surprising. Who among us would look at one of our own? Who would suspect a traitor? He is fortunate that we were here, not just to aid in their rescue but to also provide an objective eye.

Soon we travel to Fort Rannick, which we hope to retake form the ogres that invaded many weeks ago. While I am sure it will be dangerous, possibly even deadly, I am actually looking forward to the simplicity of battle. We know what side we are on, and what side they are on, and that is all there is to it. This will be a welcome change.

Fireday, 28 Calastril

I am taking a few moments to write while the surviving members of the Black Arrows decide what is to be done with the remains of their companions.

The sights in the farm house will be with me for some time, and were as gruesome and violent as any we have witnessed to date, including those at the Misgivings. We have all agreed that the house and the barn will be burned. This was one of those rare moments where we were all in consensus, and almost no words needed to be spoken to reach it.

An interesting twist to this tale: Jakardros, the apparent leader of the Order, was revealed to be Shelalu’s step-father, who apparently left her after her mother was killed (when? where? how?). There is more to this story– much more– but now is not the time to ask. It does, however, explain Shelalu’s personal interest in our mission, the cold stares once they learned of one another’s presence here, and Jakardros’ breakdown outside.

I must go; they are ready.

Fireday, Calistril 21

We are finally putting some distance between ourselves and Magnimar and I am happier for it. As much as I enjoyed visiting with family and friends, there was always this constant reminder of why I had left and I suppose I’ve also become accustomed to our travels, and a lifestyle that ties us to nowhere in particular.

We’ve been joined by Takkad, who refers to himself as a healer. It is obvious to all that there is a religious aspect to this, but for whatever reason he does not talk a great deal about it. To each their own. My friends actually gave me a bit of a hard time for what they say was more an interrogation than conversation when we were finally introduced, but what did they expect? I am told he had been watching us for a few days– at which point I did recall seeing him in the inn on several occasions, I had just not put much thought into it at the time– and with our recent experience with shapeshifters and Xanesha I thought a bit of caution was in order, especially when a man claiming to be a healer just happens to come along at exactly the moment when we are in need, and still hurting from Olithar’s death.

Shalelu also found us again (how does she do that?) and asked to join us on our journey to Turtleback Ferry. At first I was as cautious with her as I was with Takkad. How many coincidences could we have in one week? But it did not take long to put that fear at ease, especially once the stories about Sedgewick came out. How she managed to stay in his company for so long remains a mystery with me, though obviously her patience did have its limits.

I assume her motivations for joining lie in her kinship with the rangers up north. I know she was not “hired” by the mayor as we were. I always suspected our rather large “gift” was something of an unspoken retainer, and now I know. I am not offended by this, it’s just less direct than I prefer to be. This has earned me more a small amount of ribbing from my companions.

We cross the river in the morning, and then begin our travel through the forest. I asked Shalelu what to expect, as she has been this way before, and her reply was a unhelpful side comment about gnomes. It was the voice of someone with a great deal of patience; patience that had not quite reached its limit. I wonder what that says about Sedgewick.

Wealday, Abadius 15

Olithar’s death still hangs over us. Over me.

I am not naive. This work that we do is dangerous and not without significant risk, and Olithar like the rest of us knew those risks and faced them willingly and without hesitation. In the past months we have seen many terrible sights, witnessed violence on a scale unheard of in modern times, and confronted an ugliness that would chill even the most hardened man. Though we never spoke of it directly, we were all aware of how close each of us has come, some of us over and over again, to giving our life for this cause, and that it was but a matter of time before misfortune caught up with us. And so it did.

Part of me understands Olithar’s wishes to not return, but part of me also wishes that it wasn’t so. Such is growing up, I suppose.

I am frustrated that Xanesha lives. We were close. We had her. But we lacked skill with ranged weapons, having relied too much on magic in the past to meet this need. As prepared as we were, the assault on the tower has revealed a critical gap in our capabilities, and it is one that must be filled.

One wonders how much higher a price we would have paid had we not taken the time to plan our rather unusual ascent up the clock tower. It is clear from Xanesha’s meager defenses that she had expected nothing more than a simple, direct assault from the interior stairs. By coming up the outside with magic to aid our ascent we were able to reach the scaffolding nearly unscathed, closing the distance so rapidly that they had no time to adjust to our tactics. The best they could muster were a few bricks that were left over from the feeble attempts to repair the structure, thrown at us as we climbed.

If our plan had a flaw, it was that it simply worked too well and allowed half of our party to reach the roof without adequate combat support. From what Rigel and Kane describe, however, that may not have mattered in the end, for Xanesha had a few tricks of her own and Olithar’s fate was sealed in the first few seconds of her appearance. The best we might have managed had we all been there would be to give her more targets to choose from, and that is a sobering thought.

Even unprepared and disadvantaged Xanesha proved a difficult and capable foe. Had we been forced to come up that scaffolding as she had intended we might be mourning more than just one of our friends. Our cleverness is cold comfort, however, as Olithar is dead while Xanesha lives. I am not one for revenge and settling scores, but…this situation does not sit well with me.

Joaqin says that feeling will pass. I hope so, because I cannot afford to have my judgement clouded.

The mayor has made us rich men (and women) and I have to admit that I am surprised, shocked even, at what he has done. Not just the money, or even giving us his word and then keeping it, but also the actions he has taken to protect his town, and the citizens whose names appeared on Xanesha’s list. This is not the Lord Mayor Blah Blah Horse’s Ass that I thought I knew, or maybe it’s that he’s far more complicated a man than I ever gave him credit for and that I only knew one facet of many. I don’t know. In the end, he is doing the right thing, and not just for himself.

I would never have guessed.

Wealday, Lamashan 9

I never understood why Joaqin spent so many of his nights writing in that book of his until now. If it’s not written down, it’s almost as if it didn’t happen, or as if it happened differently than it did. Memories are hazy and the farther back they are the worse the fog. I doubt that I will ever have the same discipline as Joaqin, and I clearly lack his gift for words, but I see the value in recording events, even if I am not very good at it.

I had what some might call an epiphany tonight: I understand why these goblins attack in what is effectively suicide waves. It is because each and every goblin truly believes that he will succeed where countless others failed and died. It is that simple. You can see it in their faces as they attack. It is as if they don’t understand their own mortality. You could send 100 goblins against an army of men and the last one standing would climb over the bodies of the first 99 to press the attack. The irony is that this works eventually…if you have enough goblins to spare.

Put any town under a loupe and you will find flaws. That may sound bitter and pessimistic but it is a lesson I learned early on at home, then later again, and once more here. It does not surprise me that there have been shady dealings between the elite of Sandpoint, though the consequences have been astonishing. I don’t know if their goal was to destroy this town or if these people simply didn’t understand how events can rapidly spiral out of control, but without our intervention I am sure that destruction would have been the result. It may still be for all we know. I have no doubt that we are only scratching the surface of something much larger. This much is so obvious even simplest of the townsfolk have the same suspicion.

The argument with Kyras was unpleasant though not surprising. We have not been together long enough to learn how to deal with differences in our ideologies (Joaqin would be impressed with my use of that word), and some of us are less flexible than others. I probably started the morning in the former camp but now I am not so sure where I sit.

Thanks to Olithar I can stop worrying about money at least for the near future. My extended stay here has slowly but steadily emptied my purse. I suspect we will be here a while longer.

Mother, Father,

News travels quickly, and I wanted to be sure you heard from me first so you wouldn’t worry.

My journey to Wolf’s Ear took me through Sandpoint, where I intended to stop only for a single night. As timing would have it this was a day or two before a church dedication ceremony, the details of which are a long story itself and that you will probably hear on your own, and I chose to stay the extra days for the company and the festivities. That turned out to be something of a mistake.

This town, it seems, has a long history skirmishing with goblins and there are many tribes located in the surrounding countryside. That anyone manages to travel safely along the Lost Coast Road given their numbers is probably because goblins seem to spend so much time fighting each other that there is little left to menace travelers. Every so often they manage to organize enough to harass Sandpoint, though, and there are a number of businesses and individuals here who have made light of the situation despite the threat. (I should point out that they do in fact take this matter very seriously, it is just how they have adapted to the reality of the situation).

The night of the church dedication, the night that you will no doubt soon hear about, was very different. I attended, in the company of some acquaintances- it is perhaps too early to call us friends- that I had met at the inn where I was staying, and it was fortunate that I chose to do so armed. While this decision did invite some expected attention from the town guard, it also came in handy when the town suddenly found itself literally infested with goblins. They came out of everywhere and nowhere, and the chaos that resulted was disorienting, but a few of us organized quickly enough to squash the threats immediately around us.

Let me say this: a single goblin is not a dangerous adversary to a trained soldier, but several dozen of them are a different story. They are small, they are fast, and they are dangerously stupid, pressing a fight past the point of hopelessness. It is this last one that was most distressing since they were almost eager to run to our blades long after they had been beaten, but in doing this they came close to overwhelming our defensive line. This would be a brilliant strategy if it didn’t cost so many of their own lives in the process.

I should also point out that, despite their feeble threat, I and the others fighting with me are still very inexperienced, and their numbers did take their toll on us. We were easy to wear down, but obviously we won or you would not be reading this letter now.

Unfortunately for Sandpoint, it was not just our place near the ceremony that was attacked, and we were not the only pocket of fighting. Fires burned throughout the city well into the night, as goblins had sprung out of every dark corner and simply run amok.

It is early morning now, and I am heading out to look for my horse who was spooked when goblins ransacked the stables next door. I never intended to keep this horse after arriving in Wolf’s Ear, but now I find myself very attached to him. That was my horse they threatened, and I want him back.

Nolin