These attacks seem to never end. For a fortnight now, they have come, and raided our crops, killed our bravest men, and stolen our goods. I have ordered all Fallcrests citizens in the gates by sunset, and the gates barred, but I am running out of hardy men and dwarves to hold the gates. Goblins, orcs, kobolds, and I’m quite sure yesterday I saw several Gnolls in the mix. They are organized, and they are playing with the city, of that I am quite certain. Were they to ever launch a full on assault, they would sack our fair town and destroy all we hold dear, nay, all we hold…. Until this Gethzerian decides it is time, we hold as best as we can. So far, whom, or whatever, Gethzerian is, they have not revealed themselves. We only assume he/it is their leader, and a formidable foe he must be, to unite these foul creatures to one banner.
I have sent word along all trade routes, seeking help from any brave adventurers as may come to our aid. Better to empty Fallcrest’s coffers to heroes than to usurpers and filth. I pray to Erathis, Sehanine and Bahamut that they will guide help to us.
I sent a message to Sir Keegan, the Captain of the old Nerathi guard at Winterhaven, asking for the aid of the Empire, but the response puzzled me even more than our current predicament. The only letter I received was from his Lieutenant, Sir Thane, saying only “Keegan gone mad. Protect yourselves from the shadow”, scrawled sloppily on a piece of parchment. Whatever evil stirs in the north cannot concern us now, as we face death daily at our own doorstep.
Bahamut willing, I will write more tomorrow, so that if Fallcrest dies, at very least someone can know our tale.
- A. Trowlane, on the fourteenth night of the siege of Fallcrest