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Also working on a post now. I've finished my testing for a while. Holy crap, I'm never taking summer classes again.
I'm going to be AFK most of today, noting, and possibly tomorrow. I'm studying for an online test I'm taking tomorrow. I have a post in mind, and will make it if I can.
I have a post mostly ready, but I'll wait to finish it until others have had the opportunity to post.
The Republic of Erimir
Army Cards
Expanding Trade
After long weeks of trade with the Kingdom of Asax, Erimir has begun hiring shipwrights from the neighboring nation. The excess of lumber imported into Erimir from its trade deal with Belmorn has given it enough wood to start producing a fleet to protect its interests in the southern portion of the continent. Still, it will take a few seasons before Erimir has a fleet worthy of any note.
Trade with the Kingdom of Scharweilt has borne fruit as well. Erimir's goods have begun to bring in fresh supplies of fish from the growing fisheries in the island nation.
Victims, not Victors
This good news, however, is tainted by the dire situation in Belmorn. News of the terrible events of the war have drifted into Erimir, and the people are stirred. Action would not have been taken, however, had a lizardfolk emissary not strode into the City Hall of the capital with an ultimatum: accept the lizards of the new Empire as their ruler or die. High Sheriff Beryl Moss and the Senate have sent the emissary back to the Bloodfang Empire with the following message:
The halflings of Erimir are making good on their promise. The first batch of soldiers trained with the assistance of orcish drillmasters is due to be ready next week. Spears, axes, and thunderers are being prepared for this moment.
One Last Hurrah
It was all desolation. Marshal Tommen Taleteller stared out from the atop the hill at the refugees limping toward Hadelmere. A tent city had formed around the elven capital, a stark contrast to the grandeur of the elven hostels and spiraling treetop homes. Its walls of ivory stone seemed almost taunting next to those ragged pavilions and the bloodstained clothes of weary warriors and widows. All the fighting had brought some sickness upon the refugees, too, and their coughs and groans compared to the quiet, meditative stares from the elves within the city made the scene all the more crushing.
The elves camped outside the city, those soldiers in their finely crafted armor, were receptive of the halfling force, despite the small size of the army that followed Tommen. Nine hundred and fifty halflings, all lightly armored and none astride any steeds, seemed even smaller before the approximately fifteen thousand elven warriors. Still, they were practically cheering as the halfling force stepped into the camp. While it certainly warmed the hearts of some of his men, Tommen knew it did not bode well for their makeshift alliance. If the elves were glad to see halfling soldiers, then that meant they were in dire straits indeed. The elves certainly didn't cheer for the halflings after their battle with Elslen.
Still, he thought to himself, it also means we're having an impact here. We're boosting their morale, at least. That may be just enough to win the next battle. It was no longer time for idle hopes, though. Tommen marched off to meet with the elvish officers to discuss his army's role in the coming battle.
* * * * *
Dusk came quickly. The halflings met with refugees and elves, sharing their rations freely with those who needed them. It was the halfling way, though Tommen knew most of his men would be complaining of empty stomachs come second breakfast when they realized they'd be down to three quarters' rations. Dusk gave way to evening, and the small army slept, though the Marshal did not. Come the morning he was still awake, having been pacing and thinking throughout the night.
Tommen had his officers round up his men, and the Marshal stood at a makeshift podium of barrels in the center of their camp. All his soldiers' faces were on him.
"I am not a man for great, inspirational speeches," he began, setting his hands on the wood before him. "This is... new territory for me. I am a soldier first and foremost. I will lead you into no battle I would not fight in myself. I will give you no order I would not myself obey. You know this. You have all served under my leadership, and I am proud to be your commander."
The Marshal pressed his knuckles down hard upon the barrel, taking a deep breath. "I will not lie to you. There is no promise of victory in the coming battle. We outnumber the enemy, but they hold the ruins of Fengarde. The lizardfolk have unified, and they will certainly send more warriors should we win. This summer will be a bloody one, and we cannot be assured of reinforcements from home. in short, we may win the battle, but the war is an uncertainty.
"But that has never shaken the halfling spirit, has it?" The Marshal lifted his gauntlet high. "You are veterans now, having fought some of the finest warriors to be found in Orysson. You charged at orcish warriors without an inkling of regret, and you stood proudly before the gates of their city as the High Sheriff brokered a peace. Some of you have fought off raiders and slavers, and others have stood as Irioa's sentinels against vandals and buccaneers. We are heroes, and the world would be damned good to remember that.
"We are going to fight these lizardfolk invaders. They may beat us in battle, but when we are done, they will ALWAYS remember what the littlefolk can do in a fight. So, let us have one last hurrah, for soon the bards will sing of our exploits! Hurrah, men! Hurrah!"
The hurrah was answered in kind. Halflings lifted their swords and muskets into the air, cheering. If there was to be a battle, it would be a battle to be remembered.
The Struggle in Dara
The first shipments of halfling weaponry and foodstuffs have reached Dara. Clan Gnashing has gained a bit of an edge against its opponents with this delivery, but for now is focusing on holding its ground and protecting the refugees from other clans. Erimir promises to send halfling troops to support Chief Agamar soon.
Army Cards
After long weeks of trade with the Kingdom of Asax, Erimir has begun hiring shipwrights from the neighboring nation. The excess of lumber imported into Erimir from its trade deal with Belmorn has given it enough wood to start producing a fleet to protect its interests in the southern portion of the continent. Still, it will take a few seasons before Erimir has a fleet worthy of any note.
Trade with the Kingdom of Scharweilt has borne fruit as well. Erimir's goods have begun to bring in fresh supplies of fish from the growing fisheries in the island nation.
This good news, however, is tainted by the dire situation in Belmorn. News of the terrible events of the war have drifted into Erimir, and the people are stirred. Action would not have been taken, however, had a lizardfolk emissary not strode into the City Hall of the capital with an ultimatum: accept the lizards of the new Empire as their ruler or die. High Sheriff Beryl Moss and the Senate have sent the emissary back to the Bloodfang Empire with the following message:
Imperial Crown of Jouria,
We of Erimir have long spoken out for peace and friendship in our region and an end to the skirmishes that plague our world. Though we have, perhaps, not always been as true to these ideals as we wish to believe, we have always striven to prove that there are other means to forging a lasting tranquility than conquest.
This day, however, you have presented us with a simple ultimatum, and you have threatened our very lives should we refuse to accept your rule. We know you are capable of making this threat a reality. You have marched on Fengarde and razed that great city to the ground. You have won several battles against our friends in Belmorn. There is no doubt in our minds that you would be willing to do the same to us should we refuse your offer.
It is for that very reason that we must fight. While we halflings are not averse to vassalage, we cannot stand to serve tyrants and despoilers. If we were to join you in your conquest, then we would be victims, not victors; the sacrifice of our very moral fiber would be a loss too great to accept. We shall gird our hearts and heft fire and steel to meet you on the battlefield.
Gods willing, conquerors, the halflings will stand beside those who would face your wrath.
High Sheriff Beryl Moss of the Republic of Erimir
We of Erimir have long spoken out for peace and friendship in our region and an end to the skirmishes that plague our world. Though we have, perhaps, not always been as true to these ideals as we wish to believe, we have always striven to prove that there are other means to forging a lasting tranquility than conquest.
This day, however, you have presented us with a simple ultimatum, and you have threatened our very lives should we refuse to accept your rule. We know you are capable of making this threat a reality. You have marched on Fengarde and razed that great city to the ground. You have won several battles against our friends in Belmorn. There is no doubt in our minds that you would be willing to do the same to us should we refuse your offer.
It is for that very reason that we must fight. While we halflings are not averse to vassalage, we cannot stand to serve tyrants and despoilers. If we were to join you in your conquest, then we would be victims, not victors; the sacrifice of our very moral fiber would be a loss too great to accept. We shall gird our hearts and heft fire and steel to meet you on the battlefield.
Gods willing, conquerors, the halflings will stand beside those who would face your wrath.
High Sheriff Beryl Moss of the Republic of Erimir
The halflings of Erimir are making good on their promise. The first batch of soldiers trained with the assistance of orcish drillmasters is due to be ready next week. Spears, axes, and thunderers are being prepared for this moment.
It was all desolation. Marshal Tommen Taleteller stared out from the atop the hill at the refugees limping toward Hadelmere. A tent city had formed around the elven capital, a stark contrast to the grandeur of the elven hostels and spiraling treetop homes. Its walls of ivory stone seemed almost taunting next to those ragged pavilions and the bloodstained clothes of weary warriors and widows. All the fighting had brought some sickness upon the refugees, too, and their coughs and groans compared to the quiet, meditative stares from the elves within the city made the scene all the more crushing.
The elves camped outside the city, those soldiers in their finely crafted armor, were receptive of the halfling force, despite the small size of the army that followed Tommen. Nine hundred and fifty halflings, all lightly armored and none astride any steeds, seemed even smaller before the approximately fifteen thousand elven warriors. Still, they were practically cheering as the halfling force stepped into the camp. While it certainly warmed the hearts of some of his men, Tommen knew it did not bode well for their makeshift alliance. If the elves were glad to see halfling soldiers, then that meant they were in dire straits indeed. The elves certainly didn't cheer for the halflings after their battle with Elslen.
Still, he thought to himself, it also means we're having an impact here. We're boosting their morale, at least. That may be just enough to win the next battle. It was no longer time for idle hopes, though. Tommen marched off to meet with the elvish officers to discuss his army's role in the coming battle.
Dusk came quickly. The halflings met with refugees and elves, sharing their rations freely with those who needed them. It was the halfling way, though Tommen knew most of his men would be complaining of empty stomachs come second breakfast when they realized they'd be down to three quarters' rations. Dusk gave way to evening, and the small army slept, though the Marshal did not. Come the morning he was still awake, having been pacing and thinking throughout the night.
Tommen had his officers round up his men, and the Marshal stood at a makeshift podium of barrels in the center of their camp. All his soldiers' faces were on him.
"I am not a man for great, inspirational speeches," he began, setting his hands on the wood before him. "This is... new territory for me. I am a soldier first and foremost. I will lead you into no battle I would not fight in myself. I will give you no order I would not myself obey. You know this. You have all served under my leadership, and I am proud to be your commander."
The Marshal pressed his knuckles down hard upon the barrel, taking a deep breath. "I will not lie to you. There is no promise of victory in the coming battle. We outnumber the enemy, but they hold the ruins of Fengarde. The lizardfolk have unified, and they will certainly send more warriors should we win. This summer will be a bloody one, and we cannot be assured of reinforcements from home. in short, we may win the battle, but the war is an uncertainty.
"But that has never shaken the halfling spirit, has it?" The Marshal lifted his gauntlet high. "You are veterans now, having fought some of the finest warriors to be found in Orysson. You charged at orcish warriors without an inkling of regret, and you stood proudly before the gates of their city as the High Sheriff brokered a peace. Some of you have fought off raiders and slavers, and others have stood as Irioa's sentinels against vandals and buccaneers. We are heroes, and the world would be damned good to remember that.
"We are going to fight these lizardfolk invaders. They may beat us in battle, but when we are done, they will ALWAYS remember what the littlefolk can do in a fight. So, let us have one last hurrah, for soon the bards will sing of our exploits! Hurrah, men! Hurrah!"
The hurrah was answered in kind. Halflings lifted their swords and muskets into the air, cheering. If there was to be a battle, it would be a battle to be remembered.
The first shipments of halfling weaponry and foodstuffs have reached Dara. Clan Gnashing has gained a bit of an edge against its opponents with this delivery, but for now is focusing on holding its ground and protecting the refugees from other clans. Erimir promises to send halfling troops to support Chief Agamar soon.
I'm writing a post now. My apologies for not posting earlier today. I was working outside, and I'll be working outside again soon.
Hey, Syrian - were the halflings involved in either of the battles you had today?
I'll be making a post soonish.
I'll be making a post soonish.
Holy guacamole. I hope you have a new one or just had to reformat. I've had hard drives go bad on me before.
The Republic of Erimir
Army Cards
Halflings March
The professional soldiers of Erimir, the infantry and the musketeers, have continued on toward Fengarde. While battered and bruised, these nine-hundred and fifty halflings are the best Erimir has to offer. The infantry may not be capable of standing toe-to-toe with lizardmen, but they are well versed in flanking maneuvers and are ready to assist the humans of Belmorn however they can. The musketeers come bearing their potent firearms. Under the command of Marshal Tommen, these halflings believe they may provide just enough punch to save their friends. Marshal Tommen has made it clear that while he will do his best to work with the generals of Belmorn's armies, he is more than capable of commanding his unit effectively once battle has begun.
For her part, High Sheriff Beryl Moss is returning to Erimir with the militia to determine how the nation should proceed. Rumors suggest that she wants to form an official alliance with Belmorn and bring a larger number of soldiers to assist them in their present war, but it is well known such a decision requires the approval of the Senate. Without such approval, there can be no alliance, and no militia can be sent to assist the nation of Belmorn. Such is the price of being a republic.
Weapons of War
Meanwhile, the existence of the Thunderers, a new sort of firearm, has been confirmed in Erimir. While the weapons are still prototypes, they are considered highly effective weapons that can be put to use immediately. These weapons don't have as long a range as the traditional musket but pack much, much more firepower at short ranges. The Thunderer is also considerably smaller than a musket, and is thus also lighter of weight; this makes it easier to handle and maneuver with. Finally, its unique qualities make it a perfect candidate to have a pistol made from it.
The Thunderer is now in production in Elmshire. The halflings hope to have soldiers trained in its use within two or three weeks.
The iron and lumber coming into the province have also led to blacksmiths being able to produce more conventional weaponry. While simple slings and stones are still being gathered for use in the coming wars, halfling smiths are now able to produce more short swords than usual. Daggers and long spears are being made for use by Erimir's militia, and soon they may be more than just rabble wielding farming implements.
The first of the orcish drill instructors from Elslen have also begun to arrive. They have begun training would-be recruits for Erimir's military, but the effort is slow and the results are not yet evident.
Choosing Your Friends
"There are several feuding clans among the orcs of Dara," Ambassador Tallfellow explained to Armand and Jan, his hands cupped around a large goblet of icy water. "It's a bloodbath there. We had to fight off a number of their warriors ourselves. Kipp managed to keep us out of some nasty scrapes, though. He has a keen sense of where to hide."
Kipp stood beside Jan, his hands nervously tucked into his pockets. He was still wearing his leather armor; and truth be told, he didn't feel safe without it. He scratched at the bowl-shaped straw blonde hair on his head. "I just did what I was taught to do," he offered meekly.
"You did more than that," countered Armand, the old halfling smiling just a tad. "You did well, my boy. But, more importantly, you came back alive... and you say there is a clan among these feuding factions that deserves special attention?" Armand glanced back over at the ambassador.
"Its name is Clan Gnashing," Tallfellow explained, tucking his arms behind his back. "Their leader, Chief Agamar, possesses not only strength of the body, but strength of the heart. He is a virtuous man, and a very religious fellow as well, but most importantly wants to protect the weaker clans. He has no actual claim to the throne, but isn't fighting for conquest. He's simply trying to preserve the lives of his people and of the clans that can't defend themselves."
From what Kipp had seen, that description was more or less true. Chief Agamar had personally fought off the raiders attacking the party, then fed and resupplied them for their journey. He had told them of his plight, and there were certainly no shortage of homeless orcs in his camp. His own armor was ragged and worn, but he seemed as proud as any king, at least the few kings Kipp had seen... well, the one. The massive axe on his shoulder might have helped with that.
"Interesting," Janson mused, dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief. "But I do not see how this helps us."
"It helps us because we need friends, and so does this Chief Agamar," Armand said simply, pacing along the floor. "If we can help him secure control of Dara, we would have a friend... and the orcs of Dara would have a ruler that would respect their rights as living beings, and a ruler who will not wantonly wage war across the borders."
"But from what you have told me, this chief is fighting a losing battle," Jan interjected. "He is trying to protect a large number of refugees, yes? And all around him are other warlords? Do we even have the soldiers necessary to bring him victory?"
"Perhaps not," admitted Ambassador Tallfellow, "but I believe if we are to support anyone, Chief Agamar of Clan Gnashing is the moral choice, and our best potential ally should he be victorious."
Armand and Jan considered for a time, each musing over the issue. They debated a while longer, but Kipp simply couldn't listen anymore. He walked out of the room and strode out from the fort's interior and onto the battlements. A cool, wet breeze met him as stepped out into the summer air. It felt nice on his skin.
Lakewatch was one of two forts built by the Empire during Erimir's time as a vassal province. Like its sister fort, Fort Andal, Lakewatch was large and placed in a very defensive position. The mangonels situated on the towers of Lakewatch could fire upon enemy armies before they got catapults in range, though trebuchets could still strike the fort without any real difficulty. Given the lake's size, the only way to the fort was a direct assault at its gates, and the enemy would be at a severe disadvantage. Only the amphibious lizardfolk might be able to sneak up on the fort by swimming through its waters, but even then...
It was a very secure place. Kipp felt a little safer in Lakewatch, though his nerves were still on high alert after several near death experiences in Dara. The air was gentle, though, practically kissing his cheeks, and the summer heat wasn't as hot as it usually was. Perhaps the lake was to blame for the pleasant weather.
Kipp started to relax against the stone when he saw Ambassador Tallfellow coming toward him. He straightened up a little, nodding at his superior. "What news, sir?"
"We're leaving in the morning," the taller halfling explained. "We're to deliver a weapon shipment to Clan Gnashing. The old men say they're going to talk to the Senate about passing a bill to allow us to actually join the fight on Chief Agamar's side."
Kipp gulped. Not again.
Army Cards
The professional soldiers of Erimir, the infantry and the musketeers, have continued on toward Fengarde. While battered and bruised, these nine-hundred and fifty halflings are the best Erimir has to offer. The infantry may not be capable of standing toe-to-toe with lizardmen, but they are well versed in flanking maneuvers and are ready to assist the humans of Belmorn however they can. The musketeers come bearing their potent firearms. Under the command of Marshal Tommen, these halflings believe they may provide just enough punch to save their friends. Marshal Tommen has made it clear that while he will do his best to work with the generals of Belmorn's armies, he is more than capable of commanding his unit effectively once battle has begun.
For her part, High Sheriff Beryl Moss is returning to Erimir with the militia to determine how the nation should proceed. Rumors suggest that she wants to form an official alliance with Belmorn and bring a larger number of soldiers to assist them in their present war, but it is well known such a decision requires the approval of the Senate. Without such approval, there can be no alliance, and no militia can be sent to assist the nation of Belmorn. Such is the price of being a republic.
Meanwhile, the existence of the Thunderers, a new sort of firearm, has been confirmed in Erimir. While the weapons are still prototypes, they are considered highly effective weapons that can be put to use immediately. These weapons don't have as long a range as the traditional musket but pack much, much more firepower at short ranges. The Thunderer is also considerably smaller than a musket, and is thus also lighter of weight; this makes it easier to handle and maneuver with. Finally, its unique qualities make it a perfect candidate to have a pistol made from it.
The Thunderer is now in production in Elmshire. The halflings hope to have soldiers trained in its use within two or three weeks.
The iron and lumber coming into the province have also led to blacksmiths being able to produce more conventional weaponry. While simple slings and stones are still being gathered for use in the coming wars, halfling smiths are now able to produce more short swords than usual. Daggers and long spears are being made for use by Erimir's militia, and soon they may be more than just rabble wielding farming implements.
The first of the orcish drill instructors from Elslen have also begun to arrive. They have begun training would-be recruits for Erimir's military, but the effort is slow and the results are not yet evident.
"There are several feuding clans among the orcs of Dara," Ambassador Tallfellow explained to Armand and Jan, his hands cupped around a large goblet of icy water. "It's a bloodbath there. We had to fight off a number of their warriors ourselves. Kipp managed to keep us out of some nasty scrapes, though. He has a keen sense of where to hide."
Kipp stood beside Jan, his hands nervously tucked into his pockets. He was still wearing his leather armor; and truth be told, he didn't feel safe without it. He scratched at the bowl-shaped straw blonde hair on his head. "I just did what I was taught to do," he offered meekly.
"You did more than that," countered Armand, the old halfling smiling just a tad. "You did well, my boy. But, more importantly, you came back alive... and you say there is a clan among these feuding factions that deserves special attention?" Armand glanced back over at the ambassador.
"Its name is Clan Gnashing," Tallfellow explained, tucking his arms behind his back. "Their leader, Chief Agamar, possesses not only strength of the body, but strength of the heart. He is a virtuous man, and a very religious fellow as well, but most importantly wants to protect the weaker clans. He has no actual claim to the throne, but isn't fighting for conquest. He's simply trying to preserve the lives of his people and of the clans that can't defend themselves."
From what Kipp had seen, that description was more or less true. Chief Agamar had personally fought off the raiders attacking the party, then fed and resupplied them for their journey. He had told them of his plight, and there were certainly no shortage of homeless orcs in his camp. His own armor was ragged and worn, but he seemed as proud as any king, at least the few kings Kipp had seen... well, the one. The massive axe on his shoulder might have helped with that.
"Interesting," Janson mused, dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief. "But I do not see how this helps us."
"It helps us because we need friends, and so does this Chief Agamar," Armand said simply, pacing along the floor. "If we can help him secure control of Dara, we would have a friend... and the orcs of Dara would have a ruler that would respect their rights as living beings, and a ruler who will not wantonly wage war across the borders."
"But from what you have told me, this chief is fighting a losing battle," Jan interjected. "He is trying to protect a large number of refugees, yes? And all around him are other warlords? Do we even have the soldiers necessary to bring him victory?"
"Perhaps not," admitted Ambassador Tallfellow, "but I believe if we are to support anyone, Chief Agamar of Clan Gnashing is the moral choice, and our best potential ally should he be victorious."
Armand and Jan considered for a time, each musing over the issue. They debated a while longer, but Kipp simply couldn't listen anymore. He walked out of the room and strode out from the fort's interior and onto the battlements. A cool, wet breeze met him as stepped out into the summer air. It felt nice on his skin.
Lakewatch was one of two forts built by the Empire during Erimir's time as a vassal province. Like its sister fort, Fort Andal, Lakewatch was large and placed in a very defensive position. The mangonels situated on the towers of Lakewatch could fire upon enemy armies before they got catapults in range, though trebuchets could still strike the fort without any real difficulty. Given the lake's size, the only way to the fort was a direct assault at its gates, and the enemy would be at a severe disadvantage. Only the amphibious lizardfolk might be able to sneak up on the fort by swimming through its waters, but even then...
It was a very secure place. Kipp felt a little safer in Lakewatch, though his nerves were still on high alert after several near death experiences in Dara. The air was gentle, though, practically kissing his cheeks, and the summer heat wasn't as hot as it usually was. Perhaps the lake was to blame for the pleasant weather.
Kipp started to relax against the stone when he saw Ambassador Tallfellow coming toward him. He straightened up a little, nodding at his superior. "What news, sir?"
"We're leaving in the morning," the taller halfling explained. "We're to deliver a weapon shipment to Clan Gnashing. The old men say they're going to talk to the Senate about passing a bill to allow us to actually join the fight on Chief Agamar's side."
Kipp gulped. Not again.
Question: if I want the superior firearms export (I have the imports needed to make it now), do I add it to my list of exports or do I have to replace an export?
The Republic of Erimir
Army Cards
Letters to Rulers
In High Sheriff Moss's absence, the representatives within Erimir's Senate have sent letters to important foreign officials.
Finally, upon hearing of the lizardfolk attacks on Fengarde, the High Sheriff sends a messenger to Belmorn informing them that the Halfling army is returning home, but that should Belmorn wish to formally form an alliance with Erimir (and should the Senate agree to such an alliance), the Halflings are willing to march to the defense of their neighbors.
"It Roared Like Thunder"
Meanwhile, the first shipments of strong orcish iron have made their way from Elslen to Erimir, and the industrious halflings are already experimenting with its use in weapons. Some new weapon designs are being tested in small numbers, including longer-ranged muskets and some sort of new weapon. While most do not know how far in development this new gun is, those who happened to be in earshot have dubbed it a "thunderer." It is still far from being ready, but rumor has it its destructive force is impressive.
The Scouts Return
The scouts sent to the war-torn region of Dara have returned to the borders of Erimir with a few of their number missing. They await the High Sheriff's return in the prosperous forest town of Elmshire.
Army Cards
In High Sheriff Moss's absence, the representatives within Erimir's Senate have sent letters to important foreign officials.
Finally, upon hearing of the lizardfolk attacks on Fengarde, the High Sheriff sends a messenger to Belmorn informing them that the Halfling army is returning home, but that should Belmorn wish to formally form an alliance with Erimir (and should the Senate agree to such an alliance), the Halflings are willing to march to the defense of their neighbors.
Meanwhile, the first shipments of strong orcish iron have made their way from Elslen to Erimir, and the industrious halflings are already experimenting with its use in weapons. Some new weapon designs are being tested in small numbers, including longer-ranged muskets and some sort of new weapon. While most do not know how far in development this new gun is, those who happened to be in earshot have dubbed it a "thunderer." It is still far from being ready, but rumor has it its destructive force is impressive.
The scouts sent to the war-torn region of Dara have returned to the borders of Erimir with a few of their number missing. They await the High Sheriff's return in the prosperous forest town of Elmshire.
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