Sunday November 30, The Ermine
After the Great War, the armies of the Dark collapsed and the Fallen Lords
were swallowed up by history. We believed we had entered a golden age, a new era
of peace, and our armies laid down their weapons to begin the long task of
rebuilding the world. For sixty years we worked our fields and tended our
cattle and did all the things that we had fought to defend, until the war became
something that fathers told their sons and grandfathers their grandchildren.
But sixty years is nothing to the likes of a Fallen Lord. And while King Alric
was restoring the Province to its former glory, Soulblighter was plotting its
infinite ruin.
The King has decided to fight fire with fire. He seeks Myrdred, an avatara of
the Wolf Age whom Balor renamed "The Deceiver" after bending him to his will.
Although The Deceiver fought alongside Balor during the last war, he held no
great love for the rest of The Fallen, nearly being killed by The Watcher in a
legendary battle at Seven Gates.
King Alric believes The Deceiver still lives and is counting on this old rivalry
to lure him into joining our efforts to destroy Soulblighter and the Myrkridia.
The King has sent word to Twelve Motion Jeweled Skull, a Journeyman who served
under him during his campaigns east of the Cloudspine, in hopes that he has some
knowledge of what became of The Deceiver after Balor's destruction. A select
group of men from the Legion, myself included, has been sent to rendezvous with
Twelve Motion at the Stair of Grief.
We have decided to go through the Ermine, the homeland of our fir'Bolg allies.
Though the forest seems to be a continuous thicket, we have made good time.
Night has fallen and we have pitched our camp. Time to pick the brambles out of
my bootlaces and then to sleep. At dawn we begin our march anew.
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