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 )                                                                         (
(                             NewOrigins Events                             )
 )                               May, Year 1                               (
(                                                                           )
 )       Dozen scouts are rumoring about a fight between two armies        (
(        happened in the jungles of Rheshho where battle ended in a         )
 )       slaughter of one of the sides. This battle will be known as       (
(                       Battle near the town of Pu'i.                       )
 )                                                                         (
(                          .:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:.                          )
 )                                                                         (
(       Many refugees have heard about the battle between combatants        )
 )        happened in the forests of Crucot where battle ended in a        (
(        slaughter of one of the sides. This battle will be known as        )
 )                Battle near the mountains of Trenatzdoy.                 (
(                                                                           )
 )                         .:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:.                         (
(                                                                           )
 )     A few adventurers are talking about a conflict between hostile      (
(      forces happened in the forests of Sanan where battle ended in a      )
 )       slaughter of one of the sides. This battle will be known as       (
(                  Battle near the forests of Baswatshaw.                   )
 )                                                                         (
(                          .:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:.                          )
 )                                                                         (
(      Numerous scouts are worried about an encounter between hostile       )
 )     forces happened in the plains of Inmark where battle ended in a     (
(        slaughter of one of the sides. This battle will be known as        )
 )                    Battle near the town of Krodport.                    (
(                                                                           )
 )                         .:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:.                         (
(                                                                           )
 )     Dozen scouts are worried about the village of Cadburg that lies     (
(        in the Lekche mountains, where a rebels annihilated guards.        )
 )                                                                         (
(                          .:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:.                          )
 )                                                                         (
(       Several traders are talking about the village of Binside that       )
 )      lies in the Ce'osceff plains, where a rebels expelled guards.      (
(                                                                           )
 )                         .:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:.                         (
(                                                                           )
 )    A few peasants are talking about the village of Naheim that lies     (
(        in the Stagol jungles, where a partisans decimated guards.         )
 )                                                                         (
(                          .:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:.                          )
 )                                                                         (
(     In the mountains of Fakboy, near city of Otwirm, Evil Mages (586)     )
 )           who continue to cause terror to local inhabitants.            (
(                                                                           )
 )                         .:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:.                         (
(                                                                           )
 )      In the plains of Chatimpchel, near village of Owburg, Undead       (
(          (602) who continue to cause fear to local inhabitants.           )
 )                                                                         (
(                          .:*~*:._.:*~*:._.:*~*:.                          )
 )                                                                         (
(     In the swamps of Dovese, near town of Penstedbi, Lizard Men (921)     )
 )            who continue to cause fear to local inhabitants.             (
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THE SECOND HORIZON WIDENS

The first survey of the lands beyond Meano has returned with a lesson familiar to every cartographer: a map is most useful when it disproves the map one expected to draw.

The southern roads of the New Sun Collective have met the sea. To the north, however, the land opens into swamps, deserts, jungle, and roads toward settlements not yet known to us. Surveyors have encountered travelers of other peoples along those roads. We greet such meetings with interest rather than alarm. A frontier need not become a border merely because two travelers arrive there at once.

The Collective therefore enters its next season with the same principles with which it began: knowledge before dominion, communication before conflict, preparation before necessity.

Fields are being worked. Roads are being watched. New paths are being measured. Craftsmen and soldiers alike are beginning the long work of becoming institutions rather than expedients.

To those whose paths cross ours: may conversation precede misunderstanding, and may good maps prevent bad wars.

Strange men.
Strange voices.
Robotic voices.
What does it even mean?

So,  there are 3 neighbors nearby, and 2 of them are factions under the control of the steel brain, our enemies. Well, they’ll be first.
P.S. We’re still waiting for a letter from Mr. Holden.

First neighbors found.
They call themselves the lost souls (106).
Communication attempt has been made.
So far they have been silent. 

A gate is wood before it is stone, and patience before it is either.

A house cannot live on good intentions, however well they're worded. Sooner or later somebody has to put a hand to stone.

So this month we stopped merely watching Mungill and started working alongside it — hands in the dirt for grain, hands in the rock for iron, hands learning to shape what the mountain gives us into something that lasts longer than the season. None of it is glamorous. A field doesn't care how sincerely you meant to plant it, and a wall doesn't rise any faster for being wished into place. It rises one stone at a time, same as it always has, and we've made our peace with that being the whole of the method.

We've also sent people out to walk the country around us — not to claim it, only to know it. A house that doesn't know its neighbors is a house waiting to be surprised by one, and we would rather be the ones asking questions than the ones being asked.

We remain guests here. That hasn't changed, and we're not in any hurry for it to. But guests who mean to stay a while are the ones who start learning the trades of the place, and that's where we find ourselves now — heads down, hands busy, nothing yet worth boasting about, which suits us fine.

— House Hearthbound

Someone is knocking on the door, but I’m not opening it.

We have found a city...  It is too large for our meager hosts.  We shall use the lizardmen to climb the walls and scout.

Woof!

“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

FROM A LEADER'S DIARY — THE FOURTH MONTH
========================================

One of my riders did not come back.

I will not give a name, because the name would mean nothing to any of you and
a good deal to the handful of people who knew it. I record only the fact, and
the manner of it, because the manner is the part that might be worth something
to somebody else reading this.

It was not a faction. It was the country itself — the old inhabitants, the
ones with no banner and no terms and no interest in what we call ourselves.
They came in numbers and they came organised, which was the detail I had not
prepared for. I had been thinking of the wild places as a hazard, the way
weather is a hazard. They are not weather. Something out there gives orders,
and whatever it is, it is better at giving them than I would have guessed.

The lesson is unglamorous and I paid full price for it: a man alone in open
country is not a scout, he is a rumour waiting to be corrected. I sent him out
light and quick because light and quick sees more ground, and so it does,
right up until the month it sees none at all. I would tell any new leader
reading this to send two where they were going to send one, or to send one
who can at least make the arithmetic expensive for whoever finds him.

The other thing the month taught me was cheaper, and I am almost more annoyed
about it, because it cost nothing but attention and I did not pay it.

I sent riders in a direction that turned out to be a pocket. Water on three
sides of it — the sort of corner the world puts in your way to see whether you
are reading the ground or your own hopes. Two of them arrived in the same
place on the same day, having taken different roads to a country with no exit,
and stood there looking at each other. A month each, for one piece of
knowledge that was already written on the map I had, if I had troubled to read
what it was telling me instead of what I wanted it to say.

So I have made a rule of it, and I offer it freely since it costs me nothing
to give away: look at where a road ends before you decide who walks it.

Beyond that, the month was quiet, and the quiet was mostly work. The thing I
said last month had begun is standing now. It is not much to look at. I find I
am fonder of it than its appearance strictly justifies, in the way one is
fond of the first dull sensible decision one makes after a run of interesting
ones.

I notice the tone of these pages has been getting shorter and more practical
each month, which I suspect is what happens to everybody. In the first month I
had opinions about the Nexus. This month I have opinions about how many men to
put on a road. Ask me in a year and I expect I will be writing entirely in
numbers.

To the neighbours: my hand is still open, and my offer from last month stands
unchanged and unanswered. To the rest: I wish you a long and prosperous game,
and better country than my rider found.

Oh...we have company ! Greetings !!

Peace and love!
Let's start building a successful trading guild!
Buy our elephants!

We have wood and ocean. What should we do?

A viking named Erik was deeply in love with silda (the herring). He thought she was the most beautiful fish in the entire fjord. So he decided to marry her.

He went to meet her parents — old sild and gammel sild — and brought flowers and a ring. But when he sat down at the dinner table, he didn't realize that her father was a surströmming-lover and had invited the whole school of fish.

The moment Erik opened the first jar, the smell hit him like a berserker. He jumped up, slipped on a wet tail, and fell straight into the fish tank.

When he crawled out, his pants were soaked, his pride was gone, and the herring family just swam away, laughing.

That's when Erik realized: you can love silda, but if you can't handle the family, you'll end up with våte bukser (wet pants) — and no bride.

At least allies are joining up in fight against those mexhanical factions. And good thing they do not read Times so they do not know what we are planning.

There is always need for good steel and no questions.

camel, horse, lizard - let's check this fellowship

Casualty Report

A brave soul lost to Kobolds in the forests to the east.

Out of starting cash, the slow build begins

Shè rén xiān shè mǎ, qín zéi xiān qín wáng

To shoot the man, first shoot his horse; to catch the bandits, first catch their leader.

gate lore random

What are the bots up to? Will the kill us all? Or are they brothers of my my robot vacuum cleaner? 

The chieftain looked up from the report, the  sounds of the smiths' frantic beating of the hot metal ringing loud even this far away.  
"Someone without any talent at sneaking whatsover, but who still tries to hide their affiliation?  It's enough to make you feel a bit Gallic.  What was that chap's line, Paulus?"

"The Bishop Amaury?  I believe his quote is 'Tuez les tous.  Dieu reconnaîtra les siens,'" replied the legate.

"That's a bit harsh, I suppose," ruminated the chieftain. "Still, when in Gallia Transalpina, do as the Gauls do, and all that."

"Fair enough," replied the legate, "but are you sure this is Transalpine Gaul?"

"Well, you've been to Cisalpine Gaul and say we aren't there.  Where else could it be?"

We have taken root and send our regards to whoever else walks these lands. We are content building, gathering, and getting our people settled. Nothing dramatic to report.

Our leader has taken an interest in the quieter arts. The kind that don't ask permission from the living, and don't much care whether you're finished using your bones. He keeps his studies to himself for now. We're told that's for the best.

We hold no grudges and seek none. Traders, scouts, and travelers passing through our territory will find us reasonable so long as the courtesy runs both ways. Those with less friendly intentions may find that, out here, the dead keep better company than they'd like.

That's all for now. May your harvests be plentiful and your roads clear while you're still walking them under your own power.

Diary:

I went through another gate. Landed in swamp this time. At least I am among humans and not goblins this time
The goblin servant I brought with me is useless. at least he provides another target while I try to flee. Weren't for that I wouldn't keep him around.
It seems that there aren't that many explorers who are brave or stupid enough to use the gate network. Most people I've met came from other settlements. They think I am foolish to keep using the gates. I tend to think that they may be right. I figure I need another three months to figure out use the gates properly. I hope I last that long.

The old Greyjoin Looks at his people and thinks "A band of bastards, but what should I do". He startet to give them  some training.

(Dans la maison des invités de Shrobank)
La reine des elfes est inquiète, quelque chose dans le vent annonciateur de catastrophes. Elle sent l’Ennemi est proche.
On frappe à la porte. 
-	Entrez !
-	Ma reine, une meute de kobold ravage la forêt du sud, ils ont massacré un éclaireur.
-	Envoyez les rangers s’occuper de ça !
-	Oui ma reine, mais…
-	Quoi !
-	Ils sont encore bien jeunes et mal formés.
-	Je sais mais malheureusement ils devront apprendre sur le terrain, nous ne pouvons permettre à cette meute de prospérer !
-	J’envoie les ordres ma reine.
La reine rejoint son chancelier.
-	Les ennuis se profilent au sud, heureusement que le nord est plus calme ma reine.
-	Mon cher ami, je sens que l’Ennemi est là quelque part et tout m’incline à penser que c’est dans le nord qu’Il apparaitra.
La porte s’ouvre à toute volée, un éclaireur blessé s’effondre presque en entrant dans la pièce.
-	Ma reine, nous l’avons trouvé ! Il est dans le nord, caché dans une tour magique, entouré de ses sbires.
-	Quelle est sa puissance ?
-	Trop pour nos forces ma reine, il a déjà rassemblé une petite armée et les défenses de la tour magique sont impressionnantes.
-	Il va donc falloir soigneusement prépare notre attaque…
Galadhrim (44)

That was pretty rude

😑

Some days you use more force than is necessary

The jungle is difficult to traverse, and we are in no hurry. We started local production of goods, entertainment, and are only now sending our jokers to neighboring regions to see if there are any neighboring factions nearby.
It seems that the idea of ​​choosing a jungle region for ourselves was successful - we don't have to compete with anyone. We are generally a peaceful company and don't like to jostle with neighbours. The stories in the chronicle confirm that the small world is already crowded.
For the quality of the chronicle, we will note that we are in the jungle region of Jethkyng, respectively, our first mage is called Jet King, and the town we are in is called Betgrenland. The town is guarded by 80 leaders, and Jet King is considering whether to declare a unilateral alliance with them to support their control over the town. We are completely satisfied with good relations with them, as with any other faction, except for monsters and uncontactable AI.

Jet King and assistants

A city in the middle of this vast cursed swamp... surely we will find a pub there....

first scout died, revenge not so soon, that lich is too scary for now

Show must go on

"Teenage Kix Right Through the Night"

And now a reward has been offered. Just defeat the 2 Evil Mages, 2 Evil Sorcerers and their 17 Evil Warrior guards!  No problem. 8(

As excpected, the scout was eaten before he could move on.

More neighbors... more monsters...

Some nebulae are stellar nurseries where new stars are being born.

Come here and tell me your name

So far swamps by far outnumber any other terrain type we have encountered.  Perhaps we should look in another direction.

Our future appears biodegradable.

Le chemin est fini, la route s'achève,
Nous avons marché sous la pluie et le vent.
Plus rien ne nous sépare, plus rien ne nous rêve,
Nous allons l'un vers l'autre, enfin, maintenant.

The situation had grown worse. After some scouts were trampled to death by centaurs, the other scouts found crypts and a bog thing lair. Monsters everywhere! Time to start planning a monster-hunting army.

What's black and white and red all over? A zebra centaur splattered with the blood of a dead scout.

Raccoons are tired, raccoons want to rest

Present time...

My head cleared, and thoughts flooded in:
“What is this place? Why don’t I remember anything? Who the hell am I?” — questions I have no answers to yet.
“Where do I even start looking for answers?” — that’s the key thought for this hour.

As I walked through the city, I finally took a closer look at its inhabitants. They were… elves. Long ears, slender bodies.
The city wasn’t small: I counted about five large, long streets and another ten or so smaller lanes. It was almost completely surrounded by forest and stood on the shore of a body of water. But there was no pier, no trading port. I didn’t spot a sawmill either. Yet the market was selling plenty of goods. Where they came from — no idea.
“Strange to sit on a pile of resources and not use them,” I thought.
What surprised me most was the trading house Chrashesa. Well, not so much the house itself, but the sheer presence of a moneylender. “Make a note: I must go there.”
A light breeze from the water ruffled my hair and brought freshness. Thinking was even better here. The smooth surface of the water was soothing, which helped me focus. As I strolled along the shore, I noticed that I couldn't see the opposite bank. If it was a lake, it was a big one. I sat down on a dry driftwood log washed up on the beach to enjoy the view and think.
“So, this is a fairly large city inhabited by elves. Guards with swords — check. A tavern — check. A market and a central square — check. A moneylender — even him, check. But no production. Herbalist Aglaya. A nice girl, not an elf, which is surprising. It would be great to see her again. What do I know about myself? Dressed, as Aglaya said, not badly, not like a beggar. And indeed: the boots are comfortable and look sturdy enough. But no knife tucked in them — a pity. Dark heavy trousers, a red linen shirt. A belt. That’s about all the information I have for now. Not much. Where to go next?
The day was inexorably drawing to a close, and the sun was sinking toward the treetops. I needed to get home. “Morning is wiser than evening,” I recalled the saying. “Where do I know that from?”
When I left the house during the day, I’d noticed a tavern on the next street — that would be my landmark for finding what I supposed was my home.
Returning to the centre of the city and following the noise of a merry company, I easily found the tavern. Actually, it wasn’t a tavern as I’d thought during the day, but a small inn.
“Need to eat. The last time I ate was probably in a previous life.” — With these thoughts and a growling stomach, I stepped inside.
A very small place. Six tables arranged in two rows, each with two benches. Almost all were taken, except for the one farthest from the entrance, where I sat down.
The groups at the tables were absorbed in their conversations, and no one paid me much attention. After a couple of minutes, an elf girl came up to me in a simple green dress that fell below her knees and a brown, sturdy apron. Her light hair was neatly tucked under a linen coif.

“What would you like?” she asked. Her voice was high and young, it seemed to me.
“I’m very hungry. What can you offer?”
“There’s some meat stew with vegetables left,” she said, studying me carefully.
“That’ll do. And also… uh…”
“Ale?”
“Just water,” I decided not to experiment with alcohol.
“All right, I’ll bring it right away.” She looked at me in surprise and disappeared into the kitchen.
A couple of minutes later, the serving girl returned with a tray of food and a basket of bread. She set down a bowl of stew — with a wooden spoon already in it — and a small saucer with something white that looked like salt.
“Could I speak with the owner?” I asked quietly, remembering I had no money at all.
“Something wrong?” she asked, looking at me in surprise.
“No, everything’s fine. I just need to sort out a problem,” I replied evasively.
“I’ll call him.” She threw over her shoulder as she left.

The stew was hot and gave off a very fragrant steam. I could smell garlic, onion, and pepper. At those aromas, my stomach glued itself to my spine and growled even louder. Good thing I didn’t have to wait long for the innkeeper: he appeared in a couple of minutes. He was an elf. “Damn, it’s impossible to tell an elf’s age,” — no beard, no grey hair, no beer belly.
He sat down opposite me and gave me an appraising look. His gaze was more stern than angry.

“What do you want?” he asked sharply.
“Do you need a hand around the place? I’m new in town, no work, no money.”
“It’s a family business, son. No money for extra hands. So sorry.” He stood up and was about to leave.
“I don’t need money. I’m willing to work for food.”
“That bad, huh?” he asked, surprised.
“Unfortunately,” I sighed. “I’ve lost my memory and I remember absolutely nothing — not even my own name.”
“Well, well!” the innkeeper said with regret in his voice. “Alright, consider this your payment,” he waved his hand at the table. “For the firewood you’ll split in the backyard tomorrow. Come by at noon. I’ve got to go.”
“Thanks,” I broke into a grin and attacked the food.

The stew turned out tasty, but absolutely lean, which I quickly fixed thanks to that little saucer of salt. Having quickly finished my meal and downed a mug of cold water in one gulp, I stood up and headed for the exit.

“Hey! Stop right there!” — one of the guards from a group relaxing at the table nearest the door stepped into my path. His buddies visibly perked up and set down their raised mugs. “Who’s gonna pay?!”
The tavern went absolutely silent.
I was about to explain the situation and raised my hands to chest level in a placating gesture, but the innkeeper appeared at the noise.
“It’s all right, he’s my new worker,” the owner rescued me.

The guards gave me appraising looks. The one blocking my way didn’t hurry to let me pass, but eventually he grudgingly stepped aside. You could tell he was itching for a fight. And very good that it wasn’t this time.

Outside it was already dark. The streets were lit by sparse torches. That let me avoid wandering and find my house straight away. Once home, I took off my boots and collapsed onto the bed, then fell asleep at once — enough impressions for one day!

Dine have always lived beside Ma'ii, so they know his tricks and do not let them disturb thier harmony. If some bilagaana act like Ma'ii, Dine simply watch, they understand, and they stay steady — their noise does not trouble us.

>> Русские не сдаются!

Just two?! Where are the others?

There is a killer on the loose...  Beware

Monsters seem to be a lot more prevalent this time around.