Journal of Jack Outremer

Journal entry: written on the trip back to the newly named settlement of Meadowmere, just after the Summit at Haven.

The first victim of Lady DeJardin’s war was a halfling woman named Eufie. At least, to this simple merchant. A refugee from another world, like me, she was held by the DeJardin, and, according to her spirit, grouped in with those who suffered from a terrible hunger that made them into something called the Horde. An affliction that only seems to happen in planar folk or possibly Beastfolk, the ones I saw feasted on the flesh of others, ripping out large chunks from our still living bodies. My own arm was so mangled by one of them that it was useless. They were somehow found or inflicted with this terrible cndition, and then sent to us in numbers.

And we killed them.

Did we have any other choice? I can’t say. If there was another way, I didn’t know of it, and other, wiser folk didn’t seem to, either. I can only hope we find a better solution.

Eufie’s story began on the night before the summit. It was innocent enough. She was hungry, and could not seem to get enough to eat. If I had any misgivings about an appetite that seemed outsized even for a halfling, I dismissed it as the hunger of a refugee. Then came the bandits. If such a word fits farmers in need of coin and food. I’ve seen folk driven to brigandry by hard rulers and cruel circumstance, but rarely in these lands. The Royce and Jernigan families are fair enough in thier dealings that it is not so common.

The summit began the next day, and as such things go, it was full of intrigue and, in the end, empty words and futile gestures by the nobles. The hearts of the Royce’s and the Jernigans were likely on the right path, but the events of the rest of the day showed us that Lady Gillette’s words were hollow and her promises naught but lies. From the beginning, she meant to kill Kalen, and had even gone so far as to hire two potential assassins, one of them my friend Marcus, to do the deed. I will say it here, and in public, Marcus NEVER meant to carry out the contract, and had told me as much. Marcus maybe headstrong and brash, but he is loyal to those he cares for.

Not long after Kalen’s rescue, Lady Gillette showed her true face, and threatened dire consequences. And they were not long in coming. Several fires were set, and we were beset by bandits soon after. Then, came the Ferryman, and another hard blow, for Marcus was beset by some madness. So powerful was the fit of paranoia that even a more powerful potion against such ailments was useless in removing it. In talking to Kalen, I became convinced that the Ferryman had somehow hexed my friend. We seeknow both the ritual that might save my friend, and Marcus himself, for he fled into the night after our attempts to cure him. I only hope that, when he comes back to himself, that he can forgive our rough treatment of him.

The morning after the summit, Eufie and other afflicted Horde came. It was…bloody. In the end, we slaughtered them all, but at no small price to our bodies, and I think, to our souls, for many took great pain in what we had to do merely to survive.

Gillette DeJardin (I shall no more recognize her nobility) and her followers owe much for what they have done. Not least for what they have done to the people who call their lands home. The folk of Meadowmere, I think, will have no small part to play in the war to come. Already, certain associates of mine and I work to help folk trapped inside the lands over which the banner of the DeJardin flies. Some of us seek to arm the rebels, and others of us are looking to find ways to help refugees escape the tyrrany of their rulers.

The Ilyani have never been a people of war. We have no king, no kingdom, and no lands to claim as our own. The open roads are our fiefdom, and our families are our nobility. Thus, I knew little of the terrible cost of war. I am no healer, like Kelora, nor am I the warrior Tannas and Simon are. I’m just a tinker and an Honest Tradesman. I can brew potions and craft tools to heal the wounded. I can mend armor and repair damaged weapons. I’m a fair hand with a staff, when it comes to it, but the work of my hands and the things I do unseen, those will be my contributions in this war.

These past few days have made one thing clear to me. I am no longer just an Ilyani. I am a man of Meadowmere. This is my home, and the home of my clan. Woe unto those who come to us seeking bloodshed, for they will find that it is but one of our many talents.