Chronicles of Azvar: Journey to Ornthas


  • Baron

    Rain’s Time, 28 SC
    Two weeks after arrival

    Though I am no wordsmith, I feel it is my duty to begin the chronicling of this history of our people in this new world. The promise of Azvar faded because we forgot our history of bravery and greater purpose. We succumbed to fear and selfishness. I swear on my life that I shall not let the promise of Azvar find its end on these shores.

    Despite our first foray into diplomacy, the locals have taken us in and largely tolerated our presence. There was distrust at first, to be sure. What would I have thought had three score foreign-tongued appeared through the mist on the shores of Azvar? Followed by nearly a hundred other common folk a few days later? I would have gripped my steel tightly. A few gifts seemed to have persuaded them that we are not to be feared, though trust lingers beyond our reach with some as of yet. Some of our scholars are learning their language, but it is a painfully slow process. I know they call us Mistwalkers, but perhaps one day we shall be called friends.

    Many of us have taken to working in their fields, forges, and quarries. Alas, this is not solely out of kindness towards those quartering us; we have found ourselves landed upon an island an require coin with which to travel. We brought supplies to survive, but not to barter. I dare not trade away our weapons and armor lest we find ourselves on less friendly shores one day.

    I thought I would feel at peace in a place bereft of fell beasts. Their venom is as equally potent in the mind as in the blood it seems. Sleep has eluded many of us. There are none in our number that have dared sleep outside of a fortress whilst in Azvar. To be out here now, with no walls nor garrisons to stand watch, has tried even the bravest souls. Those that do sleep lie with weapon in hand, even when sleeping indoors. I hope that one day we will be able to see the night sky and not be filled with dread.

    Heat’s Rise, 28 SC
    One month after arrival

    Word of our people must have spread, for we received a strange visitor today. They are surely some kind of lord or king, as they came with more than a score of attendants in tow. He introduced himself as a Nemertingi and wished to know how we came to the island of Arcos. Our people have spent centuries honing our magic, so I have shared little with him. I have said only that we built a portal to travel from the continent of Azvar to a new home. He pressed on the means of our travel, but I refused. The discussion changed to why we had come. I told him of the promise of Azvar: to create a great sanctuary to weather the great darkness brought on by the end of the world. I spoke of the line of kings and its fall nearly a century ago, the abandoning of the promise of Azvar by the ruling council, and our plan to leave our home and fulfill the promise elsewhere. Our discussion lasted until the sun graced the horizon. Perhaps the curiosity of this Nemertingi will serve our own interests?


    The arrival of the Nermertingi was fortuitous indeed. He has seen the nobility of our mission and has offered us free passage to his realm. Though I have some reservations that he may have ulterior motives, it seems this is our best chance to leave this island and begin our work in earnest. Our host as summoned a number of ships from the realm of Ornthas to bear us hence. Word has spread among our people of our departure and a wave of cautious optimism has overtaken us. A new beginning is now on the horizon.

    Warmth’s Reign, 28 SC
    Four months after arrival

    It has been too long since I have last written, as the labors of our people have kept me otherwise occupied. The Nemertingi have been kind and generous hosts. They have given us choice land along the River Ester and ample supplies to found a settlement of our own. The industry of our people is on full display as our settlement spreads along the banks of the Ester. Though the waning of the year has prevented us from planting and harvesting our own crops, our hosts have kept us well fed. Much effort and toil has been spent on preparing the land for the coming year. I have little doubt that we shall be more than amply supplied by our own labors this time next year.

    We have not been without our struggles in this new world. Hands that once wielded sword, spear, and bow now must find new purpose with axe, shovel, and hoe. As strange as it may be, some still yearn for the rush of battle. There are still beasts in these lands, though they pale in ferocity to the fell beasts of Azvar. I have kept an ample guard at the ready lest these beasts grow in number or strength. Henoc has led his men admirably and there has been little disruption of our efforts. For the first time in my life, I have heard the sounds of joy and laughter both day and night. The somber tone of Azvar sown by fear has been replaced by happiness born of our newfound freedom. I cannot help but feel that destiny has led us to our true home. I may die before it is realized, but I know now that the promise of Azvar shall not fade under my ward.


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