Lord

They're here. I'm sure of it. I cannot fully explain why but I know they've come for me.

Outside the Pony, I saw a group of runes carved against the steps. Most would probably see this as simple graffiti, or an unintelligible scribble, but I know it as much more than that. This is Azkas' work. 

Rumors are terrible things. They create hope. Hope can be powerful, hope can be good. But too much of it can be a dangerous thing.

I'm hearing whispers around this town, whispers that I'm not alone. Whispers that my kinsmen are still searching for me, whispers that my clan has not been forgotten. 

We still have a chance, a chance to push back the growing darkness, but the company needs to be restored; needs to be returned to its former glory. 

I've never liked Bree. It's years since I've been in this town. A town of cheap ale, sellswords and corruption. I'm still weak, my body is beaten and bruised, bloody and broken. I need to find my Kinsmen. I need to send word to the Blue Mountains.

Lord Veinbolt lives, and he shall return.

Valgalin I is one of the few Frithdalian lords whose lives are chronicled in great detail: his own, one of controversy, strife, and infighting.

   I don't know what brought on such a dream, but last night I dreamt I saw Borimi in the flesh once more. I had left the forges, exiting through the gates and into the cool air of the night. Upon stepping out onto the open stairway he had come to greet me, calling me by name. 

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OOC: This piece will be split up into parts, as I, as the author, believe that keeping such a set of information to take in and IC knowledge to learn about certain characters and events should be arrayed across different parts, in order to retain an easier form of reading, and hopefully interest.

The Finding Of Fhlynn

By a True Father

Chapter Two - A memory best kept silent

The Finding of Fhlynn

By A true father.

Chapter One - Death and a true family?

Chapter Five: The Flames of Memory

It had been many years, since Garmorn had felt like this - So shocked, so powerless in the face of events. His younger brother, with emphasis on "younger", had the strength and willpower to offend him, so deeply that he might wonder if this had been some form of curse from Mahal, or a dream - A memory of the past, of his previous pain, and of the dark torture that took place nigh thirteen years ago, relative to the time that this tale is noting.