Oral Tradition on the Page (Notes by Nerys of the Greyfox)

[Duster47]

* Average skill block script written on average quality parchment *

The nights are longer and colder than last moon. But it is yet to snow.

The maggot curse continues around Triel. Avoid the area.

The camp was blessed with a visiting Cat Sadhe spirit creature named of Lumina. It brought great fortune to the Greyfox while it was with us (gems and fish). My and Sister Healer Layana’s daughter, Faldorn seems to enjoy being with Lumina. This is certainly a sign from the spirits indicating Faldorn’s importance in winters to come. We would later learn this to be true.

The tribe met with new chieftains of the surviving tribes; Yngir of the Battlesong, Gorkar of the Foecleaver and Broli of the Blackfeather and a few of their warriors. Yngir remembered me from my short time with the Battlesong before I went south as one of the pathfinder emissaries. The three chiefs admitted it was a mistake the tribes did not face the Dark Horde together. They are now only remnants of what they were two winters ago. But the Dark Horde is defeated and they are returning to the lands of our fathers’ fathers in the High Moor. They asked if the Greyfox would join them.

The meeting was interrupted by an attack by dark feywild and undead creatures on a Wild Hunt. They attacked the tribe but were initially defeated. The Cat Sadhe joined us in the battle (big surprise to us all). The Wild Hunt party’s champion, Hema, proposed our chief face her (or it?) in honorable combat. If she won, then she would take Faldorn. If our chief won, then they would leave us in peace. Chief Cynric accepted the challenge then promptly defeated (not killed) Hema in honorable combat. Though I doubt the matter is finished. Their Master will probably send other champions for Faldorn. We must be ready for them. Lumina spoke to us with a human voice saying Faldorn must be protected by the tribe. Lumina left us to sleep for the winter. She might return to us in the spring.

After the battle, wounds were mended and ale was shared by all. Then the other chiefs left the Greyfox camp. We discussed moving north among the tribe, but did not commit to going north to the Moor soon. This is mostly because our attention was returned to where it should be; our future as a tribe.

I am honored to write Barilla, wife of Horik and daughter of Rigo, birthed two healthy babies, a son named Agnar and a daughter named Hilga. Mother and babies are healthy. These babies represent the first born of the tribe in these new southlands. I pray to the feywild spirits of the fox and falcon, and my own mockingbird spirit guide, that they guide me and the Tribe into our future.


Nerys, daughter of Taban, skald and Emissary of the Greyfox Tribe

[Duster47]

* Average skill block script written on average quality parchment *

Nights are long and cool, though no snow yet to write about.

The tribe settled into our winter camp on the river. There are trees around us, a fresh water spring nearby and no long-walk up a walling hill. The spirits now speak to us on the morning mist over the river and on the cool north wind through the trees.
Our shamans learned from the feywild spirits that the Wild Hunt is ended.

Layana, the Healing One, is pregnant with chief Cynric’s child. The three of us agreed to merge our tents. I am now Cynric’s shieldwife and Layana is our spearwife. This is a substantial honor and duty for Layana and me. Our daughter, Faldorn, is growing too. She is a true blessing from the North Wind to the tribe.

The tribe raided the village of Soubar with aid of some southlanders to rid the area of the maggot curse from the black orcs. Several villagers were rescued before the village was cleansed with Tempos’ fire; those lost given a sky burial in the process. Others fought at the cursed Triel village, which was completely destroyed. It is reportedly now infested with the dishonored undead.

Captain Mealir asked the Tribe to assist his ship’s crew on a dragon hunt. The hunt was long but we finally found the beast with aid of Mealir’s magic flute. The battle was quick and decisive as the Foehammer teaches us, with the cursed dragon falling to our blades, arrows and magics from the feywild. This was a great honor.

A southlander woman visited our camp saying she heard about our fierce and honorable warriors. She asked we send a war party north to search for her missing family at a farm near the Fields of the Dishonored Undead. The Tribe accepted the offer and a few traveled north. Once at the village, it was soon apparent the place was a burning tent for the villagers. All we found were village zombies; cursed with some other vile sickness. We gave them a quick and honorable death in combat. I was glad to see Lida finally put her beautiful sword to use for the glory of Tempos. We found the woman’s family and returned them safely to our camp. Her father is a smith of some skill who gifted the tribe with some protective armors to honor our victory.

Nerys, shieldwife of the honorable Chief Cynric, skald and emissary of the Greyfox Tribe

[Duster47]

* Average skill block script written on average quality parchment *

We are settled down in our new camp for the winter. We take turns protecting the camp from the wandering undead nearby and occasional orc across the river. The southlanders are leaving us alone. Lida was called away by the spirits on the wind. We wish her success in her journey beyond the next ridge line. There is nothing much more to write about the tribe now.

I am putting more songs onto paper. I shared this one at the temple to Milil in the walled village. The Open Stage Night theme was “faith”. The spirits of the feywild guide us in our lives. The spirits most often speak to us when the sun is just below the horizon in the twilight of the morning's mist. This is for my guide, the mockingbird.

/s/ Nerys

Twilight *

The visions dancing in my mind
The early dawn
The shades of time
Twilight crawling through the morning mist

Am I awake or do I dream
The strangest visions I have seen
Night is day as twilight fades away

With your wings held wide
As you fly so high
You came down to me
From the open skies

It's either real or it's a dream
There's nothing that’s in between

Twilight, I only meant to stay awhile
Twilight, I'll give you time
To free my mind
Away from me

Though the mist I saw your grace
Then disappeared without a trace
You brought me here
When can you take me back?

Inside this vision of your flight
That now is day and once was night
You lead me here and then you fly away

It's either real or it's a dream
There's nothing that is in between

Twilight, I'll give you time
To free my mind
Away from me

You brought me here
When can you take me back again?

With your wings held wide
As you fly so high
You came down to me
From the open skies

It's either real or it's a dream
There's nothing that is in between

Twilight, I only meant to stay awhile
Twilight, I'll give you time
To free my mind

Twilight, I only meant to stay awhile
Twilight, I only meant to stay awhile
Twilight

* Shamelessly hacked from ELO’s “Twilight”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3U52sP25ynE


* A separate sheet of paper in her leather folder of papers *

Layana

When I think of Layana my blood burns all around
As gentle as a butterfly she moves without a sound
I call to her across the fire, she says, "We’re joined in our fate."
Tonight's the night we’re merging tents and I can hardly wait.

The way she moves
I gotta say, "Layana let's live together
Brighter than the stars forever
Layana let's live together
Brighter than the stars forever"
Oh, my love forever.

Her eyes become of paradise, she softly speaks my name
She brightens every lonely night, no one's quite the same
She calls to me across the fire, she says, We’re joined in our fate.
Tonight's the night we’re merging tents, it's time to celebrate!

The way she moves
I gotta say, "Layana let's live together
Brighter than the stars forever
Layana let's live together
Brighter than the stars forever."
Our love, forever.

Shamelessly hacked from “Lorelei” by Styx

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oRwqe3Z9Gbc

[Duster47]

* Average skill block script written on average quality parchment *

Another moon is past. The sun is rising higher in the mid-day sky. The camp is mostly quiet. There were two winter festivals by the southlanders. They celebrate the cooler days more than lack of snow would seem to encourage. I remember times from my younger winters of snow covered tents and ground. The quiet stillness under Selune’s light. Thinking back on it, winter in the Moor was better than here, at least for the snow.

Snow

White are the far-off plains,
and white the fading trees grow;
The wind dies out along the height,
And thicker falls the snow
An increasing weight on tent and tree,
Lays down barely audibly.

The meadows and ice covered streams
Lie still without a sound;
Like some soft breeze in my dreams
The snow-fall covers me round;
In wood and water, ground and air,
A silence everywhere.

The trail before me smooths and fills apace,
and all around the grasses dwindle
And the hills are blotted slowly out;
The naked trees loom sparkly
Into the dim white sky.

Hear then at lonely intervals
Some falcon's call, urged on,
With rustling feathers and sharp turns,
Swings by me and is gone;

Or from the empty night I hear
A sound remote and clear;
The barking of a fox,
Or calls of elks, sharply squealed.
Borne echoing from some wayside cliff
Or valley far afield.

Then all is silent and the snow falls
Settling soft and slow
The evening deepens and the grey
Falls closer to ground and sky
The land seems shrouded, far away.

Its noises sleep, and I sleep
As the buried streams roll bubbly on and dream.

I dream, I dream
I dream, and I dream.

Shamelessly hacked from "Snow" by Loreena McKennitt

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sFVn2nCFX7w

Amid the Falling Snow

How I remember sleepless nights
When we would sit by campfire light,
And on the ground beside
A new world made of snow;

A million feathers falling down,
A million stars that touch the ground,
So many secrets to be found
Amid the falling snow.

Maybe I am falling down.
Tell me should I touch the ground?
Maybe I won't make a sound
In the darkness all around.

The silence of a winter's night
Brings memories I hold inside;
Remembering a blue Selune’ light
Upon the fallen snow.

Maybe I am falling down.
Tell me should I touch the ground?
Maybe I won't make a sound
In the darkness all around.

I close my eyes to the night.
I leave the sky and her tears of white.
And all is lit by campfire light
Amid the falling snow.

Shamelessly appropriated “Amid the Falling Snow” by Enya.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wacyMhxIOd0

[Duster47]

* A story written in skaldic tradition *

Cynric and Tolan at Triel

Cynric, son of Rigo, honorable chief of the Greyfox Tribe and myself, his shieldwife, Nerys, the skald of the Tribe were roaming along the river on a cool winter day. A metal-clad warrior approached us seeking our aid in defeating the dishonored walking undead in nearby Triel. You will recall the Fall of Triel story, about how warriors of coin betrayed others causing the battle and village to be lost. Later, the vile Dark Horde poisoned the land and water completing Triel's destruction. Now it is only inhabited by the dishonored dead. Their cursed corpses stumble about while their spirits are tied to the cursed place. They do not know the freedom of the wind.

Tolan, a warrior of Lathandar, the god of the rising sun, explained he must go into Triel to remove the undead infesting the place. Cynric and I eagerly accepted this chance for combat in the name of Tempos. We arrived to find a few cursed undead who were quickly given an honorable death in combat. Now their spirits were free to find their way to the North Wind.

Soon after, we found a wall of whirling blades of sorsery. Behind the blades stood a warrior hiding behind a black mask. True warriors show their faces so that all will know who they either fight beside or fight against.

The dark warrior issued a warning, "Leave Triel." We responded that we came to Triel to rid the wreckage of cursed undead. The dark warrior claimed she was protecting the cursed undead in the name of her Blackfeather-like god, Myrkul. She said, "An attack on the undead would be the same as attacking her." The honorable warriors scoffed at the idea. I told the others this masked warrior was of same mind with the darkest actions of the Blackfeather. I reminded them how the Blackfeather greatly dishonored their brothers and sisters in the Moor. Expect the same from this masked, warrior of darkness. In a moment, the whirling blades of sorsery faded into the wind. The dark warrior quickly retreated from us.

We pressed on searching for more cursed undead. I saw one, a ghastly shape of a farmer, clouded in vile sickness and rot. I put a few arrows into it, giving it an honorable death in combat. Chief Cynric proudly commented to Tolan, "She rarely misses."

We circled the area and eventually found the wreckage of the walls to the hilltop fort. I reminded Cynric and Tolan that this was the place where the coin-loving, dishorable mercenaries turned on us in the Fall of Triel. Not much remains of it now. Burned tree wall and crumbled stone hut. The scorched ground crunched under our feet; the life burned and poisoned away from it by orc-kin.

Then the dark warrior appeared to us again. Around the same time, we found two broken-shield comrads of Tolan. Both were gravely wounded, each breath seeming to be their last. Tolan called on the spirits in the name of Lathandar, who healed the two enough to stand. But they were in no shape for battle. I steadied them while my bow was at the ready should more cursed undead come to us. Cynric and Tolan then traded more taunting words with the dishonored masked warrior of the Blackfeather Myrkul, spitting after saying the name. The dark one demaned we retreat from the place. The chief, would have none of it, hoisting his father's axe, the Axe of Rigo, over his head, saying, "We shall not!"

The dark one then began calling on the dark, cursed spirits, flinging her sorcery around herself then at Cynric and Tolan. Tolan quickly called on the spirits of the light of Lathandar. Cynric did not wait and charged headlong into honorable combat against the dark warrior. Tolan followed a moment later. I raised my bow but dared not launch an arrow into the frenzy of shadows, sword, and blade. I see the Axe of Rigo swing wide then hear the sound of slicing metal and flesh and bone. The dust settles and Cynric and Tolan stand victorious over their fallen foe. "THE NORTH WIND BLOWS!" Cynric calls out for the spirits of the Foehammer and the Wind Walker to hear.

The two warriors wasted no time tossing the limp, bloody body into the nearby poisoned river. It sank quickly from view into the vile, green water, where if anything lives, will feast on broken corpse of the Blackfeather of Myrkul.

After the battle, the five warriors returned to their camps. I, Nerys, daughter of Taban, skald of the Tribe and shieldwife of the Chief was there and saw it with my own eyes. I wrote this story and will share it with others of the Greyfox Tribe. Now we all will know and remember "Cynric and Tolan at Triel."

[Duster47]

We are doing alright. I am confident the spirits and north wind will guide me to where we should be.

Roaming Good*

Once upon a day so dark and grim
The weather changed I rode the horse again
Once upon a cool and windy day
My troubles were dried up and blown away

Below the mist the water flows on by
Trouble's gone and the wind is on my side
Walking in my ordinary boots
Roaming with my customary ease

Now I find myself in a brand new tallwood
Don't worry about me cause I'm roaming good
I'll take tomorrow tho’ not forgetting my past
Nothing but a gypsy roaming good at last

Anyway, I'm alright
Day into night and night into day
Come so far away from the Moor
Take the high road and curse the low

I’m gonna take the high road and damn the low

*Shamelessly hacked from Heart’s “Walking Good”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qs6IXPswGhg

[Duster47]

I’ve been communing lately with my spirit guide. It inspired to write and sing this.

Lead The Way*

Oh let the breeze blow down upon my face,
Mists fill my dream
I have traveled both forest and moor,
To get where I have been
I fly with spirits of feywild grace,
This land has seldom seen
They talk of days for which I sit and wait
For all to be revealed

Stories and songs from spirits of flying grace,
Whose sounds caress my ear
But not a sound I heard could I repeat,
Though the story was quite clear
Whoa Oh, oooooh.

Oh, I’ve been flying... father,
I’m not denying
I've been flying,
I’m not denying

All I see turns to brown,
As fire burns the ground
And my eyes fill with soot,
As I soar above this wasted land
Trying to find,
Trying to find where we should be.

Oh, spirit of the wind who leaves no trace,
Like thoughts inside a dream
Show the path that led me to that place,
A gentle forest stream
My Valhalla beneath the misty moon,
I will return again
Sure as the mist that floats low at dawn,
When roaming through the Moor.

Oh, father of the north wind,
Fill my wings,
Across the cold winters
With no provision but fire in my blood,
Against the spirits of fear
Whoa, Oooohh.

When I'm on,
When I'm on my way, yeah
When I see,
When I see the way,
You lead the way.

Whoah, yeah-yeah, ooh,
Yeah-yeah, when I'm flying...
Ooh, yeah-yeah,
Ooh, yeah-yeah,
Well I'm flying,
So high
Ooh, my spirit,
Oooh, my spirit,
Let me follow you there

I was hoping for a clear vision of where to go next. But I didn’t get one. Since Layana is so big with child, I believe it best we stay at our current camp for a while.

* Shamelessly hacked from “Kashmir” by Led Zeppelin

Awesome cover by Heart: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGoF4sGuw0A

[Duster47]

This is maybe more than she deserves but I could not stop myself from writing it.

Bye Bye Beautiful

Now the halls are without your lies
Betrayed by a painted smile on your face
Your deception is our disgrace
We never thought there was so much to lose
Blink my eyes just once then our friendship is in ruins

[Chorus:]
Did you truly hear what I told you?
Did you truly read what I wrote you?
Did you truly listen to what we sang?
Did you truly let in what the world said?
Did we come this far just to meet this fate?
Did we play to become only pawns in your game?
How blind could I be?
I bet you did see?
You chose the dark road, but will you be grieving?

Bye bye, beautiful!

Tyrant’s host is the girl with black hair
Blindfold for the kind
Dead warriors walking the dying ground
Chains around a broken heart
Trust torn apart
Slowly burn the funeral pyres
Do you need to lie to feel alive?

[Chorus]

Bye bye, beautiful!

It's not the wind that forsakes the liar
But the liar that forsakes the wind
Someday I`ll learn to love these scars
Still fresh from the fiery blade of your words

How blind could I be?
I bet you did see?
Our friendship is lost
Though do you even care?

[Chorus]

Bye bye, beautiful!

Do not trust the southlanders!

Shamelessly hacked from “Bye Bye Beautiful” by Nightwish

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hTdhXxxWREo

[Duster47]

* Simple block script on average quality parchment slipped into a leather folder *

Early summer of southlander year 1350 DR.

It was a quick decision. But I believe it is best for the tribe we move. Black orcs returned to Triel. Poison and sickness infests the land, trees, and water. Werewolves are taking over the tallwood across the river. The southlanders bicker or work against each other. We could fight or endure any one of these, but taken together we cannot ignore the danger. So, we move again, northward for the summer as is our custom. It is best, too, we move before Lanaya's babies arrive in another moon or two. We'll go to Secomber where Trasker treated Horik and Barilla with such great respect. Maybe the other tribes will join us if the spirits guide them there? Perhaps a new job for me, the emissary? I hope I do better than I did with the southlanders.

* A sketch on a separate paper. On the back is written, "Nerys, skald of the Greyfox Tribe. Mirtul 19, 1350 DR" *



Portrait heavily Photoshopped screenshot of Tracy Spiridakos that I captured from the Revolution TV show.

[Duster47]

I feel I am writing this more for myself than the Tribe.

Where did the days go? I know we’ve been up the river from Secomber for several moons but it is mostly a blur lost in the mist.

Maybe a moon ago Layana birthed four, yes FOUR, baby girls. One is brown eyed and brown haired similar to her proud father, Cynric. The other three, though individually different, all share subtle, wide cat-like eyes. They are all beautiful babies. The shamans said the three are a blessing from the Feywild spirits; probably from Lumina herself. This is a huge honor and blessing for Layana, Cynric and the tribe. I do not understand how Layana stays on her feet. She has such a strong heart. I’m often so tired but I know I must be stronger for her and the babies. Poor Faldorn, this is all so much for her. I keep her close hoping she’ll not feel lost in the chaos.

I didn’t mention it before, but I am with child myself for many moons now. I seem to be past the sickness, which fortunately for me, was not much. Certainly much less than Layana, though I guess my being that much stronger than her has its benefits. I hope to give Cynric a son, his… our… first by early-winter.

We made camp with the other tribes we met with last summer. They all agreed to merge with the Greyfox and Cynric be our chief. This is a great honor for us. I pray to the spirits on Shaundakul’s wind for wisdom every morning for him and me as the Tribe’s Emissary. We’ve come so far in the past three winters. Where will the falcon lead us next?

/s/ Nerys, Shieldwife of the chief Cynric and Emissary of the Greyfox Tribe.

[Duster47]

*Simple block script with average quality ink on average quality paper. Slight variations in ink tint from paragraph to paragraph indicate this was written during multiple sessions.*

I am feeling different about writing on these pages. The mockingbird is encouraging me to write about me. It feels strange though I know better than to ignore my spirit guide.

Where did the winter go? It is obviously here all around us. The air is cool and nights long. There is mounded snow in the shadows of the nearby trees though it is mostly melted on the open ground today. But the days are mostly a blur to me since Lorsa was born two moons ago. Our son is a handsome little warrior, growing now to be almost as big as his four sisters by Layana. We share them between us. But five babies and four breasts we often leave someone screaming for a while though none are going hungry for too long. The shamans are pleased with our care of them all. Layana is an inspiration to me to be strong for them all. The days go on and on, seemingly the same things over and over again. The blur I mentioned before. She taught me new levels of endurance through her own. Given all we do, I am surprised Layana has added some meat to her bones, which pleases me (and Cynric I’m sure).

Sometimes I feel I am neglecting Faldorn and Cynric. The babies consume so much of our time. Other times Cynric insists Yngir or I sit with him at Council to remind our Tribe of our traditions. But my fires are so often nearly out when we, or I, can be alone with either of them. Fortunately it is amazing just how much improved our moods are after a nap together wrapped in a warm fur. Those moments do not come often enough. I am confident that we will get through this together. Together we are stronger.

Enough about me.

Faldorn herself is growing so fast. She is three winters old now, talks constantly and is a good helper with the babies. The forest animals are as interested in her as ever and she easily returns the favor. The shamans said to encourage this to please the Feywild spirits. Lumina visits us often. That cat is certainly talking to Faldorn though I am not sure about what.

Cynric is also bonding quiet well with Faldorn. Sometimes she sits on his knee while conducting tribal council. She is probably a good diversion for him to the sometimes silly disputes between our people. I know she is for me when I sit with my husband at these council meetings. I suppose that is a good sign for us all. We are past focusing only on our surviving the night and instead we actually have time for silly disputes to arise.

The tribes are all now one. There were 52 adults in camp the last time I counted. Scouts and warriors come and go as the North Wind guides them. Lord Selarn is honored for our warriors joining his own militia. Together they are keeping the local roads safe for travelers as Father Wind Walker taught us. Chief Cynric is often in the middle of the warrior's contests of drinking, strength and skill or leading their patrols. He clearly has earned their respect. Wylla and Karth offer him council often. It is rare for him to ignore them. Or me or Layana. Sometimes I believe...no, I know... he is testing himself and us. I am so proud of him fully taking this responsibility. He told me he misses me at his side outside the camp. I do too, but we both know we are where the tribe needs us to be. More of that enduring thing I suppose.

The tribe has a dozen former outsiders in it now. Several warriors took spear wives from the local area. We also freed several women during a raid on Uthgardt slavers. The women were so glad to be free they agreed to stay with us merging tents with our warriors. I am a bit concerned though that their influence with their old ways may be testing our own traditions. One of the warriors built a small wood hut at the insistence of his new spear wife. I reminded him and her of the importance to wander and packing light. If you cannot carry it, then do not grow accustom to or rely on it. Though, I do see the advantage of it better keeping the snow out compared to our tent. Layana’s Ilmater sharing are fortunately mostly about enduring. Some would certainly believe the mercy thing as being sign of weakness. We do not need that now.

Though good things can also come from the once-outsiders. I writing on this page is evidence. My mother, Meru, a spear wife was also freed from slavers by my father Taban, taught me to read and write. I remember as a child her teaching me this was a bit of a scandal. But we adapted and overcame it. Otherwise I could only talk about it.

Adapt. Or better, Adapt or die. I should add that to my maxims.

/s/ Nerys, Wife of the Chief and Skald of the Greyfox Tribe

[Duster47]

*Simple block script with average quality ink on average quality paper. Slight variations in ink tint from paragraph to paragraph indicate this was written during multiple sessions.*

Another winter is approaching of year 1351 DR. So much changed this past year. The most obvious difference is young Lorsa and his four sisters. They are all into their second winter now, running about the camp, keeping Layana and I constantly on our feet. Faldorn is also growing and continues her spirit talks with the animals around camp. The spirits are strong with that one. Many of the spearwives are now new mothers or soon will be. The North Wind and feywild spirits truly are blessing us.

The camp looks different. I’m not sure I like it, but some change is difficult to resist. There are now many huts. Or tents and huts merged together. Nothing fancy. Nothing we cannot quickly leave behind. But it seems we are more stuck to the ground here on the river’s shore. There are also crops to harvest. Harvest. Not forage. Working the ground compared to wandering the tall wood. There is nothing new found with plowing and planting so there is another loss of that mind-clearing wandering. But we can also now brew our own ale which is certainly an improvement. Anyway, we’ll stay put here above the river for the winter. Again. Perhaps next spring the tribe will wander with the wind?

There seems to be more danger across the river compared to last winter. More cursed corpses and dishonored dead stumble about spreading their curses, stench and poison to the land. Raiding parties keep the undead in-check, but the pyres are now too many to count. Chief Trasker Selarn of Secomber is quite concerned about this. He sought council with Cynric and others in our area. They decided we should learn more about why the undead are so many and so restless in the Moor. Surprising to me, they choose me to be their Emissary.

I know it is a great honor. I understand too, why they choose me. I know better than most around here about those greedy, wall-minded southlanders. I also worry that Layana can tend to our children. We often say it takes a camp to raise a Greyfox. I suppose they will test that idea while I’m away. Cynric also asked I search for a few missing warriors who went roaming southward. They are yet to return for the winter.

Feywild spirits and Helping Hand guide my journey and the Foehammer guild my blade, if I need it.

/s/ Nerys, wife of Chief Cynric and Layana, Emissary of the Greyfox Tribe

[Duster47]

*Simple block script with average quality ink on average quality paper. Slight variations in ink tint from paragraph to paragraph indicate this was written during multiple sessions.*

We are past the middle of winter now. I traveled to Baldur’s Gate and learned about a great undead horde threatening the walled village and surrounding lands. What we were fighting were the wandering stragglers from the horde. The southlanders needed more warriors.

The Tribe honored 20 warriors to Wind Walk with me south to take the fight the cursed enemy. Another 45 joined us from Chief Selarn’s Lords’ Alliance militia of Secomber. We arrived not long before the final battle. It was glorious and greatly honored Tempos. I am proud to write our warriors fought valiantly, rallying others who temporarily lost heart in battle. Three failed to return, falling in honorable combat in defense of the southlanders’ walled village: Birger, son of Alva; Carr son of Dagfinn; and Eluf son of Gulbrand. The Secomber militia lost about half their number in honorable combat. We gathered their bodies together for group ritual and freeing their spirits to the wind with fire. All of us wore their ashes afterward. I brought some ashes back to the Tribe where we honored the fallen again.

The walled village has many orphans now. I talked to some of them about joining us in freedom with the wind. Several seem interested with hearts not spoiled and cold with greed of coin of the southlanders. A few seem cursed by dark spirits who are in need of a cleansing spirit walk. Two understand southland farming methods. This is something the Tribe seems more willing to do with the spring thaw not long away. Another is a young girl who reminds me of myself in winters past. I hope Sister Juna decides soon if they can join us.

/s/ Nerys, wife of Chief Cynric and Layana, Emissary of the Greyfox Tribe