The snow melts as the first sunrays of the new year shine upon Greyhawk City. It has been a long dark winter, so I am hopeful that the warmth of Beori makes the spring more pleasurable for us all. The militia of Greyhawk stand guard ready at a moments notice for Turrosh Mak steadily gets closer but as of yet has made no move. This time he seems content to take a steady pace which is more frightening to think that he has gotten smarter. But in these walls I, and the citizens, feel safe for now.
I haven’t managed to get out as much as I would have liked these past few months. A bum knee, the result of a spat with a rather rude half-orc, has not let me be as nimble as usual. No bother however as my daily walks have led me to numerous taverns across this huge city. The Silver Dragon Inn as well as the Blue Dragon Inn in the Foreign Quarter has served me well lately. Sages and ruffians alike have sauntered in and out of these inns telling me tales the likes I’ve never heard before. So pull up that rickety ole chair and a warm mug of ale for what I’m about to tell you could very well save your life…
“I recently met a young brash kobold name Meepo. Rather charming little thing though a bit strange and carried unusual company but I digress. He mentioned that he knew of a tribe of his kind that followed the goodly dragons and that they were stirring to bring new light into the world. I am not sure what to make of this news as every kobold I have known has either tried to spear me or lame me in some dastardly trap.”
“An odd sage with a crude scarlet patch over his left eye traipsed into the Blue Dragon a few weeks ago. I mostly chatted over small things with him then he went stiff as a board and begun spouting off about an ornate city buried in the earth made of weird metals and crystals. It was long since abandoned by its original creators but something dark and evil dwells their now waiting to resurface. Alas, I know not where this place is but I am certain that it will not be the last time I hear of it.”
“A few halflings loudly entered one evening and promptly plopped themselves down next to me. They were long past drunk but insisted to drink even more. They weaved tales of that were extraordinary and obviously over the top. And to think that I would be fooled by the outlandish rumors that these two lads were spewing. On one hand however they did speak of a brooding nomad in the Dry Steppes that is inciting an army to bring the homeland back to its former glory.”
“Tis not unusual that various magical trinkets are sought after and coveted each and every day. Sometimes the most peculiar part is to find out who is the person seeking them out. A deep source I have informs me that none other than some of the members of the Circle of Eight have begun to collect rare items for some unknown reason. It is not my duty to question why as their sort often do things in a most mysterious way but tis dangerous times if they are once again calling upon adventurers to do their bidding.”
Till the sword’s blade steals my breath….