This well thumbed tome is usually secured to the hip of Cassius Dain, though as an avid teller of tales and historian, it's content is easy enough to access with a casual conversation at a flickering fireside.

The Book of Dain: A Collected Tale of the Realms



So, at last, we come to Amia. The road has been longer than I would have ever expected. Though my companions look forwards to the horizon with the vigor of youth, seeing it's infinite possibilities, I feel in my heart-of-hearts that this will be my last, great adventure. I do so, with little trepidation. I have lived a long, and interesting life - I have ridden the tides of the Interregnum, and bore witness to the Reclamation of our homeland. I served alongside heroes, and now I shepherd the Grandson of one such friend into the pages of this tome. Young Albrect shall not have an easy road, for he has chosen as his grand-sires did the path of service and duty. Unlike his dear Aunt, who bares the title of Priestess, he wears the mantle of the Church-Militant, Paladin of the Divine Right. Not an easy mantle to bear, as we head into the ports of a Republic. . . But, that is not our final destination. For ever since we received word of the fate of this City of Kohlingen, I have seen in his eyes a desire to put right the fall of a hallowed edifice.

I shall record, in these newest chapters, our travels about this new land. Our interactions with it's people and places - and document the foes and dangers we encounter. I feel once-more the thrill of adventure, almost as keenly as the ache of old bones.

Cordor

I read once of Cordor's impressive navy, and it's ingenious architecture. A city, built upon stilts, with grand canals and a bustling harbour. What met our eyes as we sailed into this once-proud city, however, was ruin. From beneath the lapping sea, the peaks of rooves which should have towered over us, poke from the water in a dangerous reef. Our vessel could not risk approaching too closely, and we traversed much of the city's expanse by the grace of grim oarsmen, who ferried us through the bones of their home to the sections that remained largely intact.

There is a sorrow here, a still open wound on the spirit of this people - though despite this I have seen they fight on. Perhaps it is fatalistic pride, but I cannot help but find some solace in their guards standing unbowed amid a scene of such destruction. We have found the Northern District now serves as a staging ground for the city's remaining efforts - as well as warriors from religious orders which I have yet to learn of. I recognize the sigils of Kelemvor and the Platinum Dragon, as well as Ilmateri, standing guard at a battle-scarred perimeter. I know war when I see it, and this Isle seems truly beleaguered by woes.

The Wave and Serpent Adventuring Guild, and it's attached Inn are where we dwell for now.

The Cordoran People

Cordor's Government appears to be a merchant republic of sorts, it seems to have the legacy of some commonwealth which affords it a settlement in the mountains called Guldorand, which I visited by passing through a portal, and found this hardy mountain town to be something of a life-line for the ruined capitol. Their leaders act from a Council of Ministers, headed by a Speaker. They seem to have a public voting system in place, for the appointing of these offices. -- A reasonably fair system, but we shall see if it's bureaucracy is more of a burden than a boon as we spend time here. I might be biased, of course, as Tethyr's noblity have been just and effective ever since the Reclamation - but I find it troubling that any commoner could find his way to office, without being raised and groomed for the burdens of leadership. Some, would thrive - but how many would cow beneath the weight of responsibility? Food for thought.

Note: A troubling turn of events, the Western District of Cordor, seems to be home to a Separatist movement. Their timing seems opportunistic, and short-sighted. Their people are at war, their fields are in ruin and now they bray for self-rule when their people desperately cling to unity. Vultures are never welcome at dinner, a saying goes. I am unsure how these events will unfold, but they managed to attain information from the casualty reports of the event which sunk much of the city and have leveraged the terrible death toll against the struggling leaders. This has not done much for morale, and there is an ill wind blowing in conversation.

Amian Frontier, and Trade Road

[This section seems to be a collection of hand-drawn maps and field notes, from the perspective of first-person accounts]





Bendir Dale

Halflings are a curious people. Despite the terrible conflict, and the strong military presence that was obvious about their walled settlement, I was greeted with a smile and the offer of refreshment on arrival. They seem keen to ward off their sorrows with small acts of kindness, and an impish sense of humour. Yet, to look beyond their smiles and banter, you would find few of them unarmed. Always are their sharp little ears perked towards the hills surrounding their valley, and they are amongst the first of the adventurers to meet the incoming attacks against their lands.

They guard the central crossroads of this Island, and hold an important strategic position, as an excellent staging ground to forge out from, and halt any marching army from the north, or south. I hope dearly that their spirit holds, and more dearly still that their walls do.

Characters:

Rook - Tiefling Witch

Grumdur Bari'Var - Dwarven Raider

Desimir Maric - Spellblade of Savras

Cassius Dain - Scribe of House Gulderhom

Timezone: UK (GMT+0)

Kohlingen and Chalkcliff

Finally, I have found some good news amid the gathered warriors at Bendir Dale. I spoke with one man, named Andre'us Larson. He claims to be an Oathsworn of The Valiant Order of Imperator. These Templar, seem to make up one contingent of Bahamut's Crusade on this Island. I shall endeavor to speak with them further, as his faith is not one common in Tethyr.

From this warrior, I learnt that the journey to the Kohlinger settlement must strike out from the port of Barak Runedar. I would not have expected a port so far to the north to have ties to Amia, yet it seems our path will take us back across the ocean once more.

I can find little record of our destination. Chalkcliff seems to be place of mystery to the scholars of this Island, and I look forward to documenting that which we find there. No doubt Sir Albrect will have other things on his mind, and I shall do what I can to help him prepare. Try as we might, we have been unable to get to the encampment their forces maintain on the northern shores of Amia. The Minmir Bridge is overrun by a blockade of vicious gnolls, and to attempt passing it would have been tantamount to suicide. Perhaps we can join with a convoy headed North. I shall keep my ears open, at the common gathering at the hin settlement.

Of Chalkcliff

The Island seems aptly named, for it's white cliffs and plateaus. The grassland where the people of Kohlingen seek to make their new home, is expansive, though the terrain may limit the practical area they truly have to build. I hope that they will embrace verticality, for in my minds eye noble towers rising up between those rugged plateaus and rolling hills would make for quite the sight.
Naturally, this is a view of the far future, for much will need to occur upon this isolated place before such grand designs can come to fruition.

The verdant plains they are based on, rise to rolling hills and cliffs. Though the land does not appear to be a true flood-plain, I would like to see what the wet season brings to their planning, for many of the regions closest to the water might become marshy unless proper drainage is implemented.
The hills themselves seem apt for sheep or hardy stock, and their manure could be used to balance any salt content in the soil where they seek to establish crops. Perhaps even the peaks of those plateaus would make for fitting gardens, or orchards; with some respect granted to the winds that must be stronger on their exposed peaks.

Beyond this, lies an ancient woodland. This place, inhabited by game, is a place for hunters; both man and beast. The wolf population is quite strongly established, no doubt due to the Island's prevalence of deer and flightless fowl.

In the centre of the land, over this green border, is the territory of the Wolfpelt Tribe. An alliance of races most would consider savage. It troubles me, that the people of Kohlingen whom venerate the Triad have treated with them.
That they have commanded their people to remain away from those lands. As a man from Tethyr, I find it both short-sighted and foolish to believe that this will last beyond the convenience of this Chieftan's ambitions. They currently fight a struggle against the Underdark races, and this treaty seems little more than an assurance to him that he will not have to fight a war on two fronts.
Whilst it may also grant the people of Kohlingen time to get their foundations set and their fields sown - I hope that the walls of the city are of reasonably high priority, and that watchtowers will be established sooner than later.

I hope to expand on this brief summary of the land, once I can walk it myself with less trouble. Escorts will be needed, as the dangers are steep.

Kohlingen's People

I can see why my lord, Albrect, was keen to meet with them. They are, in many ways, similar to his own ilk. A people with principals and duty in their hearts. I was stunned to find one of their leaders is most openly a gold dragon! Only to learn that the city itself has long had deep ties to the Church of Bahamut, alongside the Triad. Not too surprising, considering the epic tales of legend that speak of Torm's great respect and friendship with that mighty dragon god. To see such disparate races working together comes as some comfort, for I am glad unity is high upon their agenda.

Whilst I have only been present at one gathering of these people, I have noted they have a clear military leaning. Their religious orders have a strong presence of Templar, and Paladins. Yet, they also seem to have a great desire to ensure the safety of their refugees, beyond a desire for wrath and crusading. Perhaps this will change, once they can vouch for the security of their new realm. I hope that their duty of care for their common folk is upheld during times of religious zeal, or at the least that their nobility mind the interests of their people, whilst the Templar do their divine duties far from home. Only time shall tell, for I think their government shall adapt as their people do. . . What is their identity now? For Kohlingen lies in ruin. Such must be a question pressing their minds, as they forge this demesne.

Characters:

Rook - Tiefling Witch

Grumdur Bari'Var - Dwarven Raider

Desimir Maric - Spellblade of Savras

Cassius Dain - Scribe of House Gulderhom

Timezone: UK (GMT+0)

Amia, and The Abyss

I have noted, that the people of Amia seem jaded to things that most would consider terrible and worthy of saga. Hardship has it's toll. Perhaps they no longer equate fear to these topics, but I find their blasé attitude to journeying to the vile realm known as The Infinate Layers of the Abyss, most troubling.

It is with some trepidation, that I even write of this place for it's mere mention is to invite a grave peril. Yet on this distant Isle I now find myself, one of our numerous foes seems to have the ability to summon forth assaults of demon-kind. We battle the very personified evil of the multiverse, in this our material plane. What measures are needed to stand against them seem equally so powerful.

Secondly, it seems that in the abyssal layer known as Zanshibon there is a place most ominously called 'The Gauntlet'. Such a name, no doubt a challenge to those who would die attempting to brave it's perils. Yet a reward does await those willing to try, for it seems there is a merchant willing to deal with those who conquer this place. I find myself asking, why? Are the items cursed? Does this entity stand opposed to the layer's master, and hope to equip someone who might try to topple the structures of rule? Or, for the simple primal desire to be unknowable chaos?

What is clear to me, is that we may one day go to this place. I shudder to think what might lead us to resort to such madness.

I hope, that these words serve as a warning to my future self, and to any who read this. Do not take such a destructive and evil realm for granted; for there are things that lurk in that numberless horde that defy mortal reason, with power beyond accounting.

* It has come to my attention, that 'The Gauntlet' may not be in the Abyss, but is another perilous locale to visit - instead those who venture to Zanshibon brave 'The Wastes', a sulphorous wasteland patrolled by demonic armies. I must seek some clarity from local sources, before I can rework this chapter.

Characters:

Rook - Tiefling Witch

Grumdur Bari'Var - Dwarven Raider

Desimir Maric - Spellblade of Savras

Cassius Dain - Scribe of House Gulderhom

Timezone: UK (GMT+0)