From the journals of Wolfsturm, first entry
I write this from a wagon heading off to the east. What a bother.
It seems the Duke took my “escapade” a little too personally. It’s not my fault that justice obsessed freak blew the damn thing up! Regardless of the unfortunate outcome, there’s no way a stunt like that will be forgotten anytime soon! Worth every effort. The bounty on my head has jumped up quite the magnitude. Every contact in The City has advised me to leave immediately, save for the ones that tried to collect me as a reward. They’ve been dealt with accordingly. I feel as if I can leave The City fulfilled. I’ve bested all those who crossed the Daein name and humiliated them in spectacular fashion.
Still, my current predicament couldn’t appear any more dull. Riding on a wagon with some buffoon who won’t shut up about his damn deals (no, I don’t want your bloody wine!) and some spacey shifter who keeps mumbling as he reads into a book. The guards are useless, practically fainted at the first sign of danger. How did it all come to this…?
Several more short, mundane entries pass
From the journals of Wolfsturm, 14th entry
We’ve finally left Tundum for the Fallencairn Valley. This part of the world feels so devoid of action or intrigue. Just petty land squabbles between the locals. Hopefully the Fallencairn Valley will offer the adventure and intrigue that I have been yearning for. How I miss those days of breaking into Lord Salisbury’s private art gallery to steal the head off of his garish statue of himself! How I miss crossing swords with that insufferable inspector!
Fallencairn. I’ll certainly be out of my element here. But that makes it all the more exciting…
... and now we are five! I thought we were an odd trio, but these two seem even more out of place. A half-elf and a minotaur camping on the road? I suppose you wouldn’t find some mundane farmer coming out to this corner of the world. Darkhorn seems alright, straight forward fellow, much like the rest of his people, but the half breed seems broken in the head. When we first entered the valley he simply smiled and said “Look at it all… my kingdom awaits”. The glint in his eye was sickening. Raw greed and ambition. It reminded me of Norman’s eyes as he held Daein’s deed in his hands. Disgusting.
I knew this fool merchant would try and push his dubious wares on nearly anyone, but it seems he’ll even try to push it on anything! Imagine my surprise when he nearly struck a bargain with some fey creature. It was a bemusing tirade to watch, but it became even more hilarious when the savages charged us thinking they could make a killing on his marked up wines! They had no idea what they were getting themselves into. We sent the bunch of would-be brigand fey running off with their mossy tails between their legs. What a trivial battle. It was hardly worth unsheathing my sword. Regardless, it proved a fine break from the boredom of the road.
The town that shall become our launching point out into this great wilderness lies ahead. It shall be the throne from which we strike out and plunder the riches and adventure of this land! I wonder what it will be like…?
What a shithole.
I suppose nothing can really measure up to the City. It’s my own fault for getting my hopes up. Everyone here is too damn serious. Slaves to the brutal nature of the valley they live in, I suppose. It was so oppressive I considered breaking into the castle just to see something happen. From what the half-elf tells me it’s more a historic landmark than actual estate. What a shame.
What a surprise though, to find a fellow City-fairer out here already. A Dragonborn blacksmith with a penchant for guns. An intriguing fellow to say the least. I must admit he seems to have made the best of his new situation. Perhaps he has the right attitude. The City is behind me. A new adventure awaits! Surely we shall strike out to find riches beyond compare tomorrow…
Dear Journal. I’ve come bearing wondrous news! Our ever so wise group has decided to hunt the fey brigands in the forest so that we might plunder their magical bark!
What a joke. I can’t believe this half-elf. “My kingdom shall be devoid of such thieves”. Ah yes, your majesty, let us strike out to commit genocide of an entire forest’s residents!
Blasted fool. Perhaps when the gravity of the situation hits him ( or more likely the wrong end of an ogre’s club ), he’ll come to his senses. What do we have to gain from this?
Sard seems obsessed with some wives tale of an eldritch ruin. Even if such a ruin exists, what of value could possibly remain after nearly 2000 years of history? I’ve my doubts.
The only thing that intrigues me are these tales of Jumpin’ Jack. Split an ogre with a single blow? A duel with him could be dangerous…
... but a feat indeed to best him.
So far we’ve only come on an old hermit’s cabin and some mass of swirling vines and leaves. The day is still young, however…