Fire On the Borders

Journal of Jack Outremer

What have we become? Usually, when people ask themselves that question, they already know they won’t like the answer. They ask it because they don’t want to beleive how far they’ve strayed from their best selves. I ask it because I have a hard time believing how others see us. I ask it because the name Meadowmere has become more than just the name of a town.

It’s become a symbol of hope.

When I opened the doors to the Infinite Hourglass this morning, I thought the best part of the day was that business was good. Indeed, it got off to a good start. With the threat…nay, the reality of war with DeJardin looming on the horizon, even a few coppers of a morning was a good start. But then the first refugee showed up. I was the first to see her, and called out to her, which sent the poor soul scampering for cover. Given the nature of things at our little town, many tried to approach the frightened woman with weapons bared. But from where I stood, she seemed no threat. She was scared, desperate, and hurting. Burns on her hands and feet.

The moment she heard the name of Meadowmere, however, the woman cried out in relief. No, joy. We were her destination, the place she had heard of that took in beastfolk and portal folk. We were the haven she had been seeking. Up to that point, I only thought I knew pride. The moment I took that woman’s hand to lead her to the Po Chi Lam, I understood what pride meant. What it meant to be a part of something worthwhile.

Throughout the day, we were visited by other beings, all fleeing the same calamity to the north and east of us, as I heard. A cockatrice, which was later named Garnet. A living plant lady who we named Blossom. A living tree and a troll who we did not name. Each of them seemed so strange, in truth, even frightening. But when we approached them with open eyes, we found not enemies, but simply…people, in the broader sense of the word. Blossom was looking for a mate. The tree person had calcified deposits. The troll was simply…thirsty. We could have come at them with bared blades, but we found instead a peaceful solution. Now Blossom is planted herself nearby, and the flowers near her are thriving. The tree being has taken root in the woods nearby, bringing with it its own abundance. And the troll….the place it lay down after draining one of the town’s wells smells a bit odd, and the grass and dirt around it have turned a myriad of colors. After spending time in Willow’s company, I can’t help but think that what I am observing heralds some good thing. Indeed, without Willow and Kalen’s advice, we might still have laid these poor folk low. But their wisdom let us help them instead.

Not all of our encounters ended without violence, but where we were able to, we did.

But the one thing we heard time and time again: The border is burning.

The DeJardin are not merely seeking war, they are scorching the earth before them.

I am working now with a small group to help more refugees, and give them a place of safety. I dare not give the details even here, lest this journal end up in hands other than mine. It is enough to say that I am more determined than ever to be even a small part of what Meadowmere has become.

A target for the DeJardin.
A beacon of hope.

Both badges I would wear with pride. Let them both come. The refugess we will greet with open arms. The DeJardin, I offer my condolences for their losses.