The Chaos Outside of Kingsport

A Journal Entry by FireLotus​

When I first arrived in New Britannia, the trade routes were still open. I’ve always been very hands on when it comes to my work, so I of course wanted to see where I was getting my supplies first hand of course. Not that getting the chance to dip my toes in the brand new ocean didn’t play a part in my decision. Ok, a chance to swim in a whole new ocean was actually the main reason I spent several days in a caravan headed for Kingsport, but traveling for business certainly sounds more responsible. And I did happen to make a few contacts that are still proving to be useful. So all in all, it was a good trip. I just didn’t know it would be my last.

Then the trade ships from Brittany stopped, and the future of the quaint little seaside town of Kingsport seemed pretty dire. It’s a shame too, I met some really good people during my short time there. Some pretty entitled people too (that over-inflated guild master could certainly do with a lesson in humility) but mostly good folk that certainly did not deserve the hardship they suddenly found themselves in.

They were holding their own though, at least until all manner of creatures moved their way up and into the wilds outside of Kingsport. It was around the time when rumors of the undead started though, that the local trade routes stopped running. Even though most folks refuse to even acknowledge the possibility of the dead walking among us, it wasn’t that unbelievable for me. After all, I already knew first-hand that powerful magics had once again begun to permeate this realm.

You see, where I'm from, magic is more of an idea than a reality. You can imagine my surprise when I was trying to meditate, trying to ground myself, and suddenly, a tangle of snake-like roots shot up from the ground and wrapped around my legs. That was my first experience with “real” magic. After that, not much surprised me anymore when it came to the powerful forces at play here in the Vale.

Whatever darkness has been unleashed here, it is most definitely spreading. It didn’t just stop outside of Kingsport, content to destroy a once prosperous fishing and trade town. No, whatever is out there is getting closer. I can feel it whispering to me; carried along by the night air, sulking in the shadows, and evermore evident in the frightened eyes of the people finding their way into my tavern for the momentary reprieve granted by fermented grain.

Yes, I imagine that Innkeeper Abbott is finding business to be booming at the Hearth of Britannia, as the people of Kingsport are most likely looking to ale to ease their troubled minds. It is easy to order another round and hope that someone else, an Outlander perhaps, will set everything right again. Or to down another pint and blame what is happening on some ancient prophecy. But eventually the darkness will catch up with all of us if we let it… it can’t be chased it away with ale, and we certainly can’t hide from it in the bottom of a keg.

 

*pulls up a rug to listen to Lady FireLotus's story*
~Time Lord~

 

Ahhhhh backstory......

 

Mmm... fermented grain!

Thanks