Journey To Northland: Diary Entries and Letters from Ianus Glowdew {wip}

Letter From Mr. Glowdew to Queen-archivist Theodora

Listen, I know how you mainland types get about this, heck even on Kykas most people don't believe it. I've heard all the excuses; that those animals could've been killed by a native predator, the smoke could've been everything from volcanic activity to strange cloud formations, and everyone thinks they hear voices when they're alone in the woods. I notice these interpretations rarely mention the well, but I suppose even the toughest skeptics have trouble explaining that.
Just feel the need to clear up, before we get far into this, that I myself didn’t believe the stories when I got on that boat to Northland last May. But I damned well do now, and I won’t be having my experiences used in some quaint little disproving Northland article for the embertonians and ashfireans to laugh off.
Now, with that out of the way, and seeing as I do believe you to be a woman of your word who will only use this for the most honest purposes, I have included the diary I kept for my two months on Northland.

Journal Entry: May 2nd, Oriole 30

The sea ice has finally melted and we are bound for the island of Northland. The ship's crew don’t quite seem to know what to make of me, understandably so. I’m a noble, even if I’m Kykas born and raised, and these voyages don’t typically attract my kind.
I’m fairly certain, as a matter of fact, that the young woman seated across from me on the deck this fine morning is wanted for something or other back on the mainland. She has that feel, and a nervous habit of glancing over her shoulder.
Aside from the two of us, there’s the Captain, three sailors, and an old warlock called Kneecaps. Conversation is, understandably, light at the moment, so I have taken the time to write.
There are many unusual stories about Northland, and no one stays there long. Which is strange, as it has produced a good number of precious metals. However, the sea ice does make passage between Northland and Kykas quite treacherous for much of the year, so it is possible that there is a perfectly logical reason even the most seasoned miners flee from the place once the frosts start/
Those seasoned miners, who you will note are nowhere to be found on this vessel, have already gone ahead with a full battalion of guards to open the port for the summer. They leave in April every year, clean and patch the island’s only settlement, and begin their work for the summer. Then as September comes in and all visitors (like myself) have left the island, the miners and their guards begin to pack up their findings and close up the port. They sail out in late September, or October in warmer years, and find winter jobs on Kykas.
It’s an interesting little cycle , and one of many things I want to explore in my time on the island.
It would appear that the island is now within sight of the boat, so I will have to leave off there for now.

Diary Entry: May 3rd, 30 Oriole

I am deeply sorry for not writing again yesterday, but so many exciting things have happened and I was quite tired by the time I got back to my inn room. I will endeavor to record it all in detail, however.
Our approach to the island certainly made that curious cycle I mentioned earlier make a great deal more sense. The island appeared out of the mist as a miserable, gray rock. I was certain it was just the unusually foggy weather making the island so grim, but as we landed it became clear that was not the case.
The temperature seemed to drop as I left the boat, and I found myself chilled despite the light jacket I had been wearing. And then there was the island itself, all green rock, dull forests, and the rickety looking buildings that made up the port. Though ‘village’ might have been a generous word for the settlement . Can you believe they still have wooden houses here?
Beyond the bleak surroundings, none of the village folk seemed too friendly. All kept their heads down and the hoods of their cloaks up as we passed, and few even seemed to look at us.
The captain and his crew pointed us in the direction of the inn- yes the inn, it would seem there is only one place to stay on Northland , provided you don’t want to build your own- an old wooden building two stories tall, with no windows and a door that seemed to barely hang on it’s rusted hinges.
It took me some time to drag all my luggage to the top floor, as it seems valets are another thing that simply don’t exist out here. Once I was done, I found my way to the inn’s dining area as it was now at lunch time. I found my fellow shipmates- the delinquent and the warlock, at least, the crew was nowhere to be seen- had grouped together at a table in a far corner.
Considering how friendly the locals seemed, I couldn’t blame them for searching out a familiar face. That must’ve been why I joined them when old Kneecaps waved me over.
Despite the uncouth company, we were able to make quite intelligent conversation. The woman- her name is Delialah- is here to handle some business for her father, who owns a metal works in Glacia. Quite more respectable than I had initially thought, though she is still far rougher than the types I usually hang out with.
Kneecaps, well, Kneecaps is a warlock. He’s here to study, similar to me, but instead of interviewing miners and exploring the island I imagine he will be tasting tree bark and eating strange mushrooms. At any rate, it was an interesting conversation, and made the bland ekipo stew far more tolerable.
After lunch, the others went their separate ways and I set about finding my first interviews. I knew the real motherload would come in with the miners (there didn’t seem to be any other places to eat around here, after all), but the inn’s staff should be a good place to start for my chapter on the town itself.
Unfortunately, the inn’s entire staff consisted of one cook, the inn’s owner/receptionist/book-keeper, and a janitor. None of them seemed particularly interested in talking to me. I don’t see why, there wasn’t anyone around in need of their services at the moment. What I finally did get was mundane, but fascinating.
The port, the first permanent settlement on Northland, was constructed 25 years ago after ore was found on this tiny miserable island. The structures were made of cheap material because it wasn’t worth the gamble to use something valuable, especially since the island is only inhabitable 5 months out of the year.
The inn was constructed 12 years ago, when more miners and travelers who couldn’t afford or didn’t want their own house on Northland started coming. All three of my interviewees had worked at the inn since it was founded, and find winter jobs on Kykas with the exception of the owner who instead stays with his family when they are not in operation.
The inn staff come over on the first boat with the miners and guards .They typically get 12 to 23 visitors a year, most of whom are miners, guards, or ship crew.The janitor told me that he had once stayed the winter at the port, but refused to elaborate and called me several nasty names when I attempted to inquire further. I suspect he was joking about spending the winter, and I have decided to avoid him for the remainder of his stay.
As I suspected, I had far more success when evening came around, and the miners, guards, and ship’s men came in for dinner. (Though the dinner itself was quite uninspiring. I suppose I will have to develop a liking for ekipo if I am to stay here very long.)
I talked to several miners and guards , and though I got the impression that they didn’t take me or my book very seriously, they did provide me with a few solid interviews and stories from their time here. If you wish to learn more about the ins and outs of mining, simply visit Northland. (Or, for a more enjoyable experience, simply read my book.)
Once I had finished talking to everyone who seemed receptive, I joined Delilah and Kneecaps at our table from lunch. Delilah asked me how my book was going, and congratulated me on getting my first few interviews. I was going to ask her about her business ventures today, but was distracted when she struck up a conversation with Kneecaps about his ‘research.’
Now, I’ve made it plenty clear that I have no interest in Warlocks’ brand of science, but I am a polite man. And Kneecaps certainly had a lot to say. Perhaps I should take notes, and write a book on Warlocks next.
As he droned on about the unusual soil composition (and how he could tell, because he had, in fact, been tasting the local flora and sediments all afternoon. Warlocks are truly beyond all civilized comprehension.), it was hard to fault Delilah for disappearing halfway through under the pretense of a sudden headache.
Still, even if Kneecaps’ methods were horrendous, his conclusions are interesting. He claims that the soil here is actually quite fertile, almost unusually so. As if there were a recent volcanic eruption, or unusually high amounts of decomposing organic matter. He also argued that there were a great number of edible plants on the island, and plenty of game species.
Kneecaps concluded that it was entirely possible to survive the winter on Northland, especially if one had proper time to plan and preserve food harvested in the summer months.
“Why is it,” I then asked, “That no one does so? If your observations are true, why does no one stay once the sea ice has come in?”
Then Kneecaps smiled his cryptic, annoying little smile and said simply, “I believe the oddities of the fae mind are more your area of study, Mr.Glowdew” Before excusing himself so that he might catalog the stars visible in the night sky.
So, with an eventful day behind me, and little else to do, I headed upstairs to get some rest. Tomorrow would certainly be exciting!
It was on my way to my room last night that I couldn’t help notice the flicker of a candle was still visible under Delilah’s door, though she had gone up to bed over an hour before. When I paused for a moment, I was certain that I could hear quiet crying from beyond the door.
For a moment I considered entering to check on her, but then remembered myself. One does not simply barge into a strangers inn room to comfort them on unknown hurts. My time with the Dusk Blooms must have truly messed with me.
In all honesty, I don’t know why I write about that in this journal, only that Delilah, the daughter of a wealthy businessman who still dresses like a hooligan all the same, was crying alone in her room on that night. And perhaps the world ought to remember that, for it certainly wasn’t aware at the time.
There is something terribly emotional and strange about that thought. I’m not sure why I even had it. Perhaps it is the growing understanding of just how much suffering is overlooked in this world. Perhaps my next book should be on philosophy….

Diary Entry: May 6th, Oriole 30

I really have been meaning to write. It’s just that not much interesting enough to grace the pages of my personal journal. Until today, that is, when I have experienced something quite haunting.
I will preface this, for any future readers, by saying that I am not one to give into petty superstitions . This is not the tale of another bumbling fool falling for this islands tricks, and I still believe that what I experienced today has some perfectly practical explanation.
I suppose I ought to start by explaining just what I have been up to these past few days. On the morning of the 3rd, I rose from bed early and wrote the previous entry. After I had finished with that, I took breakfast with Kneecaps. The Warlock was quite excited to collect some samples of the local fungi (I did not ask how he planned on collecting them, nor what ‘tests’ he planned to run on them, and I am certain I don’t want to know.) It was only after he had scamped off eagerly into the woods to do as he pleased that I noticed Dalilah hadn’t yet put in an appearance.
I was concerned, seeing as she had felt unwell the previous night. I went upstairs to check on her. After a few minutes of patient knocking and waiting, the janitor appeared quite suddenly beside me.
“Ms. Delilah has already left for the day,” he told me with a tone I couldn’t quite place in his voice. I still remember it so vividly now, it was such a curious way he said it. I definitely think he has taken a disliking to me, especially after I asked if he knew if Delilah was well, and if he’d seen which direction she’d gone in. The foul man didn’t even answer properly, simply raising an eyebrow and leaving. The nerve some people in this port have is astounding!
Following my misadventure with the janitor, I returned to the inn’s dining area and met up with the miner I was going to be shadowing today. She was a tall woman from Dassnia, pushing her late 4000s, if I had to wager. Not especially kind, but far less icy than the others I had asked to shadow.
We set off at a brisk pace towards her claim sight, and I was glad for the extra coat and shawl I had brought. Her claim sight was on the banks of one of the many streams Kneecaps had mentioned, where she had found bits of gold and emerald in the stream bed.
The mining here on Northland is very unusual. There are no large corporations, despite the potential value, the expense of bringing a workforce out every summer and back every winter weighed out any potential profit. Instead, single miners or small groups, most no more than six in number, work small claims.
Several prospect in the rivers, others dig along the exposed bits of precious metal found throughout the island’s cliffs and caves. Many, like the one I was observing today, did both. She could find a nice amount of gold and other useful things just combing through the stream bed, but also had begun to mine away at the banks, turning up more ore.
I have never before seen a place where mining is- or even can be practiced like this. Anyways, more on that can be found in my notes. Or, in my book, once it is done. I shadowed this woman the whole day while she worked, turning up a small sum of gold. After we were done at the midpoint of the afternoon (the miners here are very particular that they get back to the port long before sundown. Likely because they often travel alone and can not carry an abundance of weapons and armor.), she went to have her finds counted, weighed, cataloged, and sealed away in a special building. This is all done to ensure that all of the miners get back to Kykas with their own finds.
I will have to interview one of the clerks that works in that building sometime, as their role in this unusual system would be a wonderful addition to my book.
When I returned to the inn, I was famished (it is not typical for miners to take food with them, unless they are going to a particularly dangerous or remote area where they risk being unable to return to port) and was glad to join Dalilah and Kneecaps for supper. Kneecaps was pleased to have found several ‘excellent specimens’, which he will examine in greater detail tomorrow.
I then inquired about Dalilah’s day, and if she was feeling any better than she had last night. She said that her day had gone very well, thank you very much for the concern but her health was better now. Just a slight disagreement between her body and the island’s weather, I believe is how she put it. And then she inquired about my book.
We talked on that subject for quite some time, and descended into small talk before we each made our excuses and went up to bed.
The next day went much the same, with Dalilah rising early and being off on business. The major difference being that Kneecaps vanished back up to his rooms after breakfast (more ekipo, in case you were wondering) instead of out into the wilds.
Today I was planning on visiting a few other mining claims. There was a map in the find storage building outlining where everyone had their active claims, both to avoid theft from another’s claim and to know where to send a search party should a miner not return. My plan was to start with the sites directly east of the port, and then to make my way through all of the claim sights over the next few days. I would also like to interview a few miners while they were at work, if they seemed interested.
In order to do this, I spent the morning at the find storage copying the map into my notes. Which brings me to another curious point. The find storage is about the only place to do business on the island, as I understand it. It’s where all the numbers and finances are handled, and while miners do operate as individuals they typically have a find storage clerk who can speak for them on legal and financial matters. (I learned this while shadowing that miner the day before, and it has intrigued me greatly since.)
Despite this fact, however, Delilah was nowhere to be found in the find storage, and the clerk I asked had never even heard of her. This caught my attention as quite unusual. What kind of business could she be negotiating for her fathers’ company without visiting the find storage?
Unfortunately, there were observations to make and a lengthy book to write. So off I went to the first claim site. The miners were surprisingly eager to talk to me, so long as it kept me from wandering off into the woods alone again. At the time, I put this down to the strange local superstitions. After all, voices in the woods were neither the most original nor threatening thing I have heard of.
While my bravo here may seem a bit unreasonable, and in truth it was. But I had with me a fine enough set of brigandine and a short sword with which I am quite well trained, so I felt I was safe enough walking around the woods in broad daylight.
In fact, nothing unusual happened that day. I got a good amount of notes and returned to the inn late. I was hoping to get in a word with Delilah, both out of curiosity of how exactly she was doing business and also to fill out the business section of my book. Unfortunately, she and Kneecaps had both already gone to their rooms, so I ate a hasty dinner of ekipo (I do not believe I will be able to eat that accursed fish again, once this is all over) and went to bed myself.
It was the next day that it happened. I had been passing the day much the same way as I had the previous, making my way between claimsites. This far out, however, they were spread more thinly.
It was as I was walking a particularly far distance between two that I heard the voices for the first time. They weren’t quite as one would imagine them. In fact, when they started I could easily assure myself that it was some trick of the wind.Just a slight whispering of the leaves around me.
Now, I am not a stupid man, I know to listen to the sounds of the wilderness, and not to make bold assumptions. That whispering could be any kind of beast making its way towards me, so while I doubted an island this small could support an animal large enough to pose a threat, I drew my sword and readied myself for a fight.
I did my best not to let my pace change, I didn’t want to inspire the wish to hunt in whatever this thing was. Because the whispering was definitely following me. It was at around this point, I believe, thatI began to notice distinct variations in the sound, as well as a pattern similar to speech.
I strained my ears, certain I must be mistaken, but the sound was getting louder and the inevitable realization was upon me. They were voices, I could now make out at least three distinctive vocal ranges. And while I couldn’t understand the language in which they spoke, it was undeniably a language all the same.
I felt a cold sweat begin to form on my brow. I had heard the local legends many times, of course. But there couldn’t just be voices coming from thin air. Some of the miners must be playing a trick on me! I thought to myself.
So I turned to where I thought I heard the voices, and pointed my sword with all the confidence and skill I could muster.
“Who goes there?” I demanded firmly.
The sound that followed my exclamation made my blood go cold. Not because it was particularly frightening, normally quite the opposite actually, but because of the impossibility of it coming from any meddling miner or bored ship’s man.
You see, there are no children on Northland, it seems far too dangerous and wild a place to bring them. But that morning when I pointed my blade so confidently into the woods, I heard the clear, loud, and unmistakable laugh of a child.

Diary Entry: May 7th, Oriole 30

I apologize for not finishing my writings yesterday. My experience in the woods leaves me quite shaken, though I maintain that there must have been some kind of explanation for what I experienced. I have not told any of the others, they would all think me mad or give me yet another telling of their ridiculous tall tails. I have no time for either of those things at the moment.
I suppose you will want to know what happened to me after that moment in the woods. I’m not proud of it certainly, and while it would be easy to leave it out- to make this the diary of some perfect dashing hero- I feel I ought to finish the story. After all, I am a writer of non-fiction and truths.
After the child’s giggle had sounded, something quite cowardly and weak came over me. I dropped my sword arm and ran from that place as quickly as I could. I finally slowed when I approached the next claim site, with the voices having been silent since I had ran. I stayed with that miner for the remainder of the work day, and made my way back to port with him.
I have not gone out yet today, and I don’t think I will. I need to get my thoughts in order, lest I become irrational.

Diary Entry: May 9th, 30 Oriole

It has been a calm few days after my experience in the woods. I have not left the port since, there is much work to be done here. It is such a silly thing, but I must confess I am still shaken by the experience…
Enough about that, though. I have had a good bit of time on my hands, and have gotten to know my companions better. Kneecaps still seems very strange, and he is often going off to collect samples in the woods or holed up in his room running ‘tests’ and ‘experiments’. If his findings have any truth to them, they would be quite interesting.
For instance, he theorizes that this was once part of a much larger continent, which experienced an extinction level event shortly before Northland broke off from it. He is certainly an interesting fellow, but is unfortunately quite unintelligible when excited and I fear his theory doesn’t hold much water.
The real interest lies with Dalilah however. I approached her with the intention of requesting an interview, but we got off on a different subject entirely. We spent a great deal of time discussing Glacian history and politics. I wished to speak with her more, but she had another headache and had to leave.
I am quite concerned about Dalilah’s health, as she seems to have frequent headaches and I have noticed she is wearing more makeup, as if to hide an unhealthy paleness.
The next day I met up with Dalilah again, this time on the beach just outside the port. We walked along the shore for a good while, just talking about anything. It was good fun, and I think Dalilah was enjoying herself as well. We had gone quite a distance from the port (I hadn’t noticed how far actually. Thankfully we weren’t in the woods, so no risk of voices, right?) and all was well until I mentioned my wish to interview her about her father’s business here.
Dalilah got quite flustered, muttered something about it being confidential, and suggested we turn back so we could make it in time for lunch. Now, I like Dalilah, and I am do my best to give people the benefit of the doubt. However, I do not like being lied to, and I have the sinking suspicion that is what is happening here.
The conversation remained dry and sparse for the remainder of our walk back. Once we arrived, I made a feeble excuse about having ‘plans’ with Kneecaps and wandered off. Hopefully he wasn’t in the inn for lunch, though considering that he rarely returns to the port before supper time I doubt it.

Diary Entry: May 10th Oriole 30

Today I decided to take a break from the Dalilah situation. I got up early, with plans to accompany Kneecaps on his day of exploring. My plans were sidetracked, however, when I instead saw Dalilah leaving the inn.
It was a bit before dawn, and I confess that I didn’t like the idea of her being out alone at such an hour, with all the strange stuff on the island. So, out of concern for her safety, I followed Dalilah down to the beach.
She walked out to a rock outcropping, just out of sight of the port, and sat down. I didn’t see any immediate danger to her, she obviously knew what she was doing and she hadn’t gone far, so I decided then to head back for breakfast.
Something did catch me as… off though. I suppose that’s why I’m even writing about this. I looked back as I was walking back, and it may been the first light of the rising sun but I could swear Dalilah’s face almost looked purple from where I was.
After that moment, though, I continued back to the inn to meet up with Kneecaps. And boy what an adventure that was.
We started out from the port immediately after breakfast, and headed into the woods. I must admit I’m still a little uncomfortable after what I heard earlier this week. It seems so silly saying it, but every time I think of those voices and their strange language I feel a cold sweat starting.
Anyways, we arrived in a small clearing, where I was treated to a pleasant surprise when Kneecaps produced a notebook- admittedly a handmade one of questionable reputability- from the pocket of his robes.
And then I watched him eat dirt and lick fungus for two hours. He claims that he can tell many things about them from their taste (more details can be found in my notes, though I can’t say I understand it all). I however, found my interest decidedly waning when he mentioned a desire to closer study the animals of the island (Heaven knows where that could’ve gone), and I joined a nearby miner for the remainder of the day.
Afterall, the book I am here to write must come first, though I do want to get a good look at those notes . Maybe my next book should center on testing these conclusions. I got some good notes from watching the miner, and I think I’m almost ready to start writing that book. I just need follow up interviews.
I made my way back to port with the miner in the early afternoon. I am currently sitting in the inn preparing to ask follow ups on all my interviewees. Once my notes are organized, I can finally start the actual writing of the book.

Diary Entry

This entry does not contain a date, but Mr. Dewglow informed me that it takes place the night following the previous entry -theodora
Something quite disturbing has happened. I should sleep now, at least Dalilah keeps telling me I should, but I don’t see how I can. Where to began? I suppose the first point at which knew something was wrong was when the last of the miners had come in and Kneecaps hadn’t yet returned.
This isn’t- strictly- unusual. As I’ve mentioned before, he has a habit of wandering and returning late. But as the minutes dragged on, I began to fill a building dread in my gut.
It was close to an hour after the last miner had come in that the guards began to organize a search. At that point I was still fairly certain that Kneecaps had just stopped to lick another mushroom on his way back, and was simply planning to let the guards handle finding him. But then something happened.
One of the miners pointed to the horizon. “Look!” they proclaimed “The smoke’s out early tonight”
Now, I believe I have mentioned previously stories of campfire smoke being seen in the distance on Northland, particularly at night? I feel that at this time I can say these stories are true without a doubt, for sure enough there were distinct smokey trails making their way skyward all across the horizon.
There must’ve been eight or nine in total, spread out fairly widely, with a few being slightly closer or further from the port. They did indeed look like columns of smoke from campfires, though certainly that couldn’t be right. The miners had been all over this island, hells I could walk it’s entire coast in a day or two if i wanted. If there was anyone else here, we would know of them by now.
“That’s earlier than I’ve ever seen them,” one of the miners next to me remarked, with an anxious tone to his voice.
“One of them could be our missing warlock though,” a guard said authoritatively, “We’ll divide up into teams to search each location. We move out now, everyone else stays here.”
Now, you know me. Here I had not only a fascinating mystery to be solved- no one had ever found a sign of a fire at the locations the smoke came from, or even seen the smoke actively coming from those places- but also a friend who could very well be in danger.
So of course I was going out there too. I had my armor and sword, and I could sneak out just fine. I didn’t have any intention of involving any one else, I’m not that self centered.
I didn’t count on running into Dalilah on the edge of the port settlement, with a crossbow in one hand and a small lantern in the other. After exchanging expressions of surprise at seeing each other, I tried to persuade her to stay.
She refused, saying that she needed to look out for Kneecaps and that she could fight well enough herself. After refusing to elaborate on either of the previous points, she also added that she wasn’t letting “Some crazy noble author go and get killed because he couldn’t ask for help.”
While I take a certain amount of issue with this interpretation of my actions and character, it was clear there was no arguing with her, so we set off together into the woods.
Contrary to my previous experiences in the wood, which were peacefully quiet with the occasional birdsong or animal cry, this was different. The woods were quiet, with not even a breeze blowing. It was as if the island felt our nervousness and was holding its breath as well. Or perhaps more acutely laying in wait, like a predator just hidden from its prey and waiting to strike.
We made our way up towards the last place I had seen Kneecaps, and started searching for any signs of where he had gone next. I started looking on the ground for footprints, though they didn’t seem to be any.There was a sound that echoed through the woods at that moment, sharp and clear and pained in a way that made the hairs on my neck stand on end.
Beside me, Dalilah notched a bolt on her crossbow as I slowly straightened up and headed towards the source of the noise. We crept along in that direction as quietly as we could, with Dalilah following a few feet behind of me.
That was when I found it, nearly tripped over it really. The body of one of the island’s larger herbivores - I can’t remember it’s name for the life of me, and that’s not the important part really. The important part was that it was 1 dead, 2 had died very recently, and 3 upon closer examination with the light from Dalilah’s lantern, it was clear that the creature had been felled by man made weapons.
Though there was no sign of a spear or spear head, the puncture wounds in the creature’s side where too deep and irregularly spaced to be a natural weapon.
I looked towards Dalilah and began to tell her of this fact when I noticed a familiar scrap of cloth caught on one of the branches near her. You see, Kneecaps insists on wearing the dull muted dress of your typical Zeralan warlock. A scrap of that particular cloth had caught on the branch.
“He’s been through here,” I pointed out the scrap.
“So, do we keep heading in this direction?” Dalilah asked, angling her head in the direction of the centre of the island.
“I suppose so,” I answered, so in that direction we continued.
It was a long hike through the increasingly dense forest, especially as the sun went down and the mist started to rise. We could hear, at times, the shouts of other search parties still looking for Kneecaps. The closer to the centre of the island we got, the longer and heavier the silence got.
Suddenly, the tree line ahead of us broke away to reveal a small clearing. The mist was very thick at this point, and I felt chilled to the bone despite several layers of clothes and armour. Dalilah didn’t seem to feel it though, which was strange since she wasn’t wearing any armour and only had a jacket and cloak on over her regular clothes.

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I might get around to finishing this eventually. It started because of an interesting bit of geography and it was fun but I've lost steam on it for now. -theo