Celonlinn

The day of reckoning had finally come. The journey had been long. The blood of Westernesse had spilt the soil and sons were lost. 

The lust for vengeance wrung Thorontir's heart as he led the force he had assembled. A vengeance forged in the blood of his kinsfolk and friends. He wore a second rayed star on his chest, unlike his own not burdened with the years of grime, but with the blood of a young man that lingered in his mind though it had long since been washed away.

It's a good thing that Jack awoke me before dawn this morning, though I was irritated at first with his incessant stomping and snorting outside the door. The fair weather has him restless and wanting to move about, and though I snapped at him to take his gargantuan black and white hide away from the house, I have to feel rather grateful now, as I have much to record here before I start my day's work. 

Oh, where to begin? I think I must've encountered half of Bree last night, in the space of just a few hours.