A Battered Leather Journal - Revision history

imported>An Adventurer at 00:23, 10 June 2010

2010-06-10T00:23:11Z

← Older revision	Revision as of 00:23, 10 June 2010
(No difference)

imported>An Adventurer at 00:23, 10 June 2010

2010-06-10T00:23:11Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 00:23, 10 June 2010
Line 1:		Line 1:
	{{Intro		{{Intro
	\| Patch Introduced = [[Hollow Victory]]		\| Patch Introduced = [[Hollow Victory]]
	\| Related Quests = [[Mace of the Explorer]]		\| Related Quests = [[Mace of the Explorer Quest]]
	\| Updated =		\| Updated =
	}}		}}
Line 7:		Line 7:
	\| Name = A Battered Leather Journal		\| Name = A Battered Leather Journal
	\| Icon Image = A Battered Leather Journal Icon.png		\| Icon Image = A Battered Leather Journal Icon.png
	\| Description =		\| Description = A journal written by Sir Candeth Martine
	\| Special Properties =		\| Special Properties =
	\| Author = Candeth Martine		\| Author = Candeth Martine
	\| How Obtained = Found in the [[Banderling Conquest Dungeon]].		\| How Obtained = Found in the [[Banderling Conquest Dungeon]].
	\| Vendors Link = False		\| Vendors Link = False
	\| To whomever may find this, please give to Olivier Rognath. The last I saw of him, he resided in Eastham:		\| To whomever may find this, please give to Olivier Rognath. The last I saw of him, he resided in Eastham:<br><br>I do not know how much time I have. The Mosswart guards are agitated, although they seem to be ignoring me for now. The din of the battle below is constant and loud. And it is getting closer. I had never seen Banderlings and Mosswarts fighting amongst themselves before today, and I had never heard of such instances in the Society meetings. It will be a good story to tell when I get back. And it will be a "when," not if, in this strange world.
	<br>
	I do not know how much time I have. The Mosswart guards are agitated, although they seem to be ignoring me for now. The din of the battle below is constant and loud. And it is getting closer. I had never seen Banderlings and Mosswarts fighting amongst themselves before today, and I had never heard of such instances in the Society meetings. It will be a good story to tell when I get back. And it will be a "when," not if, in this strange world.		\| Who could have imagined a world in which death is no longer the end of one's thoughts and experiences but merely a temporary stage in between? Unless, one day, it changes...but useless for me to think of that now.<br><br>I had journeyed to this Mosswart stronghold to observe what I could of their lives and habits. The Society had heard rumors of some bands of Mosswarts heading westwards, but these had remained as yet unconfirmed.
	~~<br><br>~~
	Who could have imagined a world in which death is no longer the end of ~~ones~~ thoughts and experiences but merely a temporary stage in between? Unless, one day, it changes...but useless for me to think of that now.		\| Sir Alayne had sent me to a relatively new Mosswart outpost to take notes on general Mosswart life, and to see if I could verify whether there were any sort of organized movement amongst the creatures, and if so, why.<br><br>The Society has made some progress in communicating with other races that have been whisked away to Dereth, but the Mosswarts remain mostly opaque to us. All attempts at civilized contact have resulted in casualties for one side or the other.
	<br><br>
	I had journeyed to this Mosswart stronghold to observe what I could of their lives and habits. The Society had heard rumors of some bands of Mosswarts heading westwards, but these had remained as yet unconfirmed.		\| So I endeavored to be as stealthy and inconspicuous as possible as I closed in on the camp teaming with Mosswart life. It was no small feat as the swamp seemed a living thing, intent on invading and festering underneath my clothes. I was covered in muck and mire, every step I made was swallowed by the grasping wet ground, and I stank of things wet and rotting. At first I thought this would help me, as visually I blended into my surroundings, and the mud softened my footfalls.
	~~<br><br>~~
	Sir Alayne had sent me to a relatively new Mosswart outpost to take notes on general Mosswart life, and to see if I could verify whether there were any sort of organized movement amongst the creatures, and if so, why.		\| A note to my fellow Society members: Mosswarts possess an excellent sense of smell.<br><br>Much to my surprise, they did not kill me. I was prepared to take a few of these creatures with me, but before I had time to react, I had been disarmed and surrounded by their long spears. Seeing as how the spears made no further encroachment upon my neck, I was content to remain unaggressive, though very afraid. A strange reaction. What am I afraid of?
	<br><br>
	The Society has made some progress in communicating with other races that have been whisked away to Dereth, but the Mosswarts remain mostly opaque to us. All attempts at civilized contact have resulted in casualties for one side or the other.		\| While I have not yet suffered a death in Dereth, by all accounts I will be reborn and renewed. And yet the fear remained, cold and implacable, as if it knew that the immortality offered by Dereth is merely dew on the morning grass, seemingly real for a short time and then gone as if it had never been ( The howling and clash of metal is right outside the walls now. My guards have left to join the fighting outside). But I digress. Again.
	~~<br><br>~~
	So I endeavored to be as stealthy and inconspicuous as possible as I closed in on the camp teaming with Mosswart life. It was no small feat as the swamp seemed a living thing, intent on invading and festering underneath my clothes. I was covered in muck and mire, every step I made was swallowed by the grasping wet ground, and I stank of things wet and rotting. At first I thought this would help me, as visually I blended into my surroundings, and the mud softened my footfalls.		\| I tried communicating with my captors, but neither my language or my attempts to imitate their growling and grunting made any noticeable impact. I had scarcely had time to consider the implausibility of my situation when a large group of Banderlings burst upon the scene, all of them clutching maces or clubs. They did not look very friendly. The Mosswarts reacted in kind.
	~~<br><br>~~
	A note to my fellow Society members: Mosswarts possess an excellent sense of smell.		\| The Mosswart Chieftain barked an order to two of his guardsmen, and I found myself being roughly manhandled through a portal to the entrance of the Mosswart Dungeon, and then down a long series of corridors until finally we came to this damp stone cell. And here I have sat, waiting and writing as the sounds of the battle have come ever closer. There has been silence for the last few minutes, but now there is something moving outside the door. I could stand and open it, but I think I shall sit here and await whomever my next visitor will be.
	<br><br>
	Much to my surprise, they did not kill me. I was prepared to take a few of these creatures with me, but before I had time to react, I had been disarmed and surrounded by their long spears. Seeing as how the spears made no further encroachment upon my neck, I was content to remain unaggressive, though very afraid. A strange reaction. What am I afraid of?		\| Sir Candeth Martine<br><br>Now truly I have not much time. I've escaped my captors, but only for the briefest of times. The Mosswarts won, barely. But new Banderling troops are approaching fast. Hordes of them. I don't know where they are taking me, but the creeping Mosswart scouts have been moving west. The door is [The writing stops abruptly, and there is no more.]
	~~<br><br>~~
	While I have not yet suffered a death in Dereth, by all accounts I will be reborn and renewed. And yet the fear remained, cold and implacable, as if it knew that the immortality offered by Dereth is merely dew on the morning grass, seemingly real for a short time and then gone as if it had never been (The howling and clash of metal is right outside the walls now. My guards have left to join the fighting outside). But I digress. Again.
	~~<br><br>~~
	I tried communicating with my captors, but neither my language or my attempts to imitate their growling and grunting made any noticeable impact. I had scarcely had time to consider the implausibility of my situation when a large group of Banderlings burst upon the scene, all of them clutching maces or clubs. They did not look very friendly. The Mosswarts reacted in kind.
	~~<br><br>~~
	The Mosswart Chieftain barked an order to two of his guardsmen, and I found myself being roughly manhandled through a portal to the entrance of the Mosswart Dungeon, and then down a long series of corridors until finally we came to this damp stone cell. And here I have sat, waiting and writing as the sounds of the battle have come ever closer. There has been silence for the last few minutes, but now there is something moving outside the door. I could stand and open it, but I think I shall sit here and await whomever my next visitor will be.
	<br><br>
	Now truly I have not much time. I've escaped my captors, but only for the briefest of times. The Mosswarts won, barely. But new Banderling troops are approaching fast. Hordes of them. I don't know where they are taking me, but the creeping Mosswart scouts have been moving west. The door is [The writing stops abruptly, and there is no more.]
	}}		}}

imported>Arkalor at 18:28, 23 January 2010

2010-01-23T18:28:57Z

← Older revision	Revision as of 18:28, 23 January 2010
(No difference)

imported>Arkalor at 18:28, 23 January 2010

2010-01-23T18:28:57Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 18:28, 23 January 2010
Line 10:		Line 10:
	\| Special Properties =		\| Special Properties =
	\| Author = Candeth Martine		\| Author = Candeth Martine
	\| How Obtained = Found in the [[Banderling Conquest]] ~~dungeon~~.		\| How Obtained = Found in the [[Banderling Conquest Dungeon]].
	\| Vendors Link = False		\| Vendors Link = False
	\| To whomever may find this, please give to Olivier Rognath. The last I saw of him, he resided in Eastham:		\| To whomever may find this, please give to Olivier Rognath. The last I saw of him, he resided in Eastham:

imported>Arkalor: Created page with '{{Intro | Patch Introduced = Hollow Victory | Related Quests = Mace of the Explorer | Updated = }} {{Standard Text | Name = A Battered Leath...'

2009-05-22T16:24:19Z

Created page with '{{Intro | Patch Introduced = Hollow Victory | Related Quests = Mace of the Explorer | Updated = }} {{Standard Text | Name = A Battered Leath...'

← Older revision	Revision as of 16:24, 22 May 2009
(No difference)

imported>Arkalor: Created page with '{{Intro | Patch Introduced = Hollow Victory | Related Quests = Mace of the Explorer | Updated = }} {{Standard Text | Name = A Battered Leath...'

2009-05-22T16:24:19Z

Created page with '{{Intro | Patch Introduced = Hollow Victory | Related Quests = Mace of the Explorer | Updated = }} {{Standard Text | Name = A Battered Leath...'

New page

{{Intro
| Patch Introduced = [[Hollow Victory]]
| Related Quests = [[Mace of the Explorer]]
| Updated =
}}
{{Standard Text
| Name = A Battered Leather Journal
| Icon Image = A Battered Leather Journal Icon.png
| Description =
| Special Properties =
| Author = Candeth Martine
| How Obtained = Found in the [[Banderling Conquest]] dungeon.
| Vendors Link = False
| To whomever may find this, please give to Olivier Rognath. The last I saw of him, he resided in Eastham:
 
I do not know how much time I have. The Mosswart guards are agitated, although they seem to be ignoring me for now. The din of the battle below is constant and loud. And it is getting closer. I had never seen Banderlings and Mosswarts fighting amongst themselves before today, and I had never heard of such instances in the Society meetings. It will be a good story to tell when I get back. And it will be a "when," not if, in this strange world.
 
Who could have imagined a world in which death is no longer the end of ones thoughts and experiences but merely a temporary stage in between? Unless, one day, it changes...but useless for me to think of that now.
 
I had journeyed to this Mosswart stronghold to observe what I could of their lives and habits. The Society had heard rumors of some bands of Mosswarts heading westwards, but these had remained as yet unconfirmed.
 
Sir Alayne had sent me to a relatively new Mosswart outpost to take notes on general Mosswart life, and to see if I could verify whether there were any sort of organized movement amongst the creatures, and if so, why.
 
The Society has made some progress in communicating with other races that have been whisked away to Dereth, but the Mosswarts remain mostly opaque to us. All attempts at civilized contact have resulted in casualties for one side or the other.
 
So I endeavored to be as stealthy and inconspicuous as possible as I closed in on the camp teaming with Mosswart life. It was no small feat as the swamp seemed a living thing, intent on invading and festering underneath my clothes. I was covered in muck and mire, every step I made was swallowed by the grasping wet ground, and I stank of things wet and rotting. At first I thought this would help me, as visually I blended into my surroundings, and the mud softened my footfalls.
 
A note to my fellow Society members: Mosswarts possess an excellent sense of smell.
 
Much to my surprise, they did not kill me. I was prepared to take a few of these creatures with me, but before I had time to react, I had been disarmed and surrounded by their long spears. Seeing as how the spears made no further encroachment upon my neck, I was content to remain unaggressive, though very afraid. A strange reaction. What am I afraid of?
 
While I have not yet suffered a death in Dereth, by all accounts I will be reborn and renewed. And yet the fear remained, cold and implacable, as if it knew that the immortality offered by Dereth is merely dew on the morning grass, seemingly real for a short time and then gone as if it had never been (The howling and clash of metal is right outside the walls now. My guards have left to join the fighting outside). But I digress. Again.
 
I tried communicating with my captors, but neither my language or my attempts to imitate their growling and grunting made any noticeable impact. I had scarcely had time to consider the implausibility of my situation when a large group of Banderlings burst upon the scene, all of them clutching maces or clubs. They did not look very friendly. The Mosswarts reacted in kind.
 
The Mosswart Chieftain barked an order to two of his guardsmen, and I found myself being roughly manhandled through a portal to the entrance of the Mosswart Dungeon, and then down a long series of corridors until finally we came to this damp stone cell. And here I have sat, waiting and writing as the sounds of the battle have come ever closer. There has been silence for the last few minutes, but now there is something moving outside the door. I could stand and open it, but I think I shall sit here and await whomever my next visitor will be.
 
Now truly I have not much time. I've escaped my captors, but only for the briefest of times. The Mosswarts won, barely. But new Banderling troops are approaching fast. Hordes of them. I don't know where they are taking me, but the creeping Mosswart scouts have been moving west. The door is [The writing stops abruptly, and there is no more.]
}}