Northern Caravan

​Since our caravan has split into two, every day raises desperation. How I wish Queen Jezmina had stayed - her grace and beauty would be a much-needed balm. Just yesterday, I heard Lazlo sobbing in his tent. He misses home... As do I.

​We saw signs of survivors at a Flame Sanctum. It was a whole day's diversion - and for nothing. Despite the Shroud encroaching on them, these fools do not feel the need to join our ranks. They believe this to be a divine Ancient punishment, a curse that may yet be lifted if they atone enough.

​Let's see how long their prayers may feed them. We must stay on track... Pikemead's Reach is still miles away.

​ - Commander Cyrus, 507 D.A.

​Our objective is in sight, but it may be for naught - Pikemead's Reach is nothing but a burnt-out pyre, still choking the horizon in blue smoke.

​If it's foolish to assume we'll find refugees there, then damn it all - a fool I'll be! If just one poor sod still hides out in the sewers, afraid to emerge... if one woman, one child continues to cower inside a locked tower... if any peasants have gathered to rebuild, reshape the heart of their land, their kingdom... we find them and gather them.

​We will forge onward and see what awaits us at the Pike.

​ - Commander Cyrus, 508 D.A.